#AND NOW YOURE TEARING THROUGH THE PAGES AND THE INK? guys. its so good

[god-of-this-new-blog]

What if the two worst guys in the whole world were madly in love with each other?

#ANOTHER ONE #(in that annoying meme voice) #hold on real tags ugh #death note #lawlight #light yagami #l lawliet #my art #l x light #light x l #anyway drew this while listening to my Halsey playlist from middle school #I love turning 13 again it feels great #ALSO colors by Halsey is so lawlight and NONE OF YOU are talking about it #like come onnnnn its soooo red and blue #AND NOW YOURE TEARING THROUGH THE PAGES AND THE INK? guys. its so good #also L smokes. soooooo that is ALSO in the song #get on my pre teen Halsey wave length please #I WAS RED AND YOU WERE BLUE COMEONNNNNN #okay sorry im listening to it while tagging whoops #also I literally did this sketch and rendered it from scratch THREE TIMES #it just wasn’t doing what I wanted. #even now im honestly not thrilled with soooo many parts I could write an essay #but I am giving up. #this is what giving up looks like xoxo

[ohthewh0rror]

ETERNALLY YOURS.

˚₊ ⋆ ☠︎︎ ⋆ ₊˚ prompt — The follow up to ‘I’ve Dug Two Graves For Us, My Dear.’ Now that your marriage has been irreparably damaged, where do the two of you go from here?

Pairing: Tom Riddle x Reader

Word count: 2k

A/N: I changed my mind after writing a completely different ending. At first I wanted to make it angst-filled and unhappy but I keep writing sad stuff, and you guys deserve a break. Thank you to my best friend Madie for proof-reading/editing this once again and to @brooklynscherry-z for helping me get a better understanding of Tom & Mattheo’s lore. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this (much shorter) continuation to ‘I’ve Dug Two Graves For Us, My Dear”!

“A letter arrived for you this morning, Y/N,” came the soft voice of your great aunt Delia, her wrinkled hand holding the letter out for you. For a second you were confused, unsure of who would have sent you a letter, especially at such an early hour, until it dawned on you.

Your husband.

A pang of hurt hit your heart at the thought of him. It had been two months since you had seen or spoken to him and though you hated him, another, smaller, part of you missed him terribly. He had been your first love and dearest friend, and his infidelity wasn’t enough to completely erase the love you’ve held for him since the two of you were only seventeen.

As you held the letter in your hands you contemplated not opening it, to instead toss it in the trash and forget it ever arrived. You eyed the entrance to the kitchens, the trash was right through that door, you could throw it away and leave the contents of the letter a mystery. But, as you turned the letter over in your hands, you felt curiosity eating at the back of your mind, beckoning you to open the letter and dissect its contents.

‘Well…it couldn’t hurt,’ you thought, gently unfolding the parchment. As your eyes skimmed over the opening of the letter, you soon realized this was not a letter you should read in the company of others. Folding the letter back up, you looked at your aunt, asking “may I be excused?”

Her eyes darted between the parchment and your eyes, and she looked as if she wanted to ask you something but she waved you off instead, wordlessly telling you that you may take your leave.

You gave her a nod of gratitude before heading to the room you were staying in, trying your hardest to seem normal. Once you entered your room, you made sure to lock the doors and cast a silencing charm for good measure. You did not want your aunt to hear you in the event that you became upset.

Sitting at the desk in the corner of your room, you unfolded the letter and began to read it once again.

Dear Y/N,

I hope this letter finds you well. It has been two months since I have seen or spoken to you, and I must admit that I miss you more than I thought myself capable of. I understand that what I did was unforgivable in your eyes, but I hope by telling you everything it will help you process what is going on so we may move forward from this.

A year ago I approached Bellatrix with the proposition of conceiving and carrying my heir. I explained I did this out of a need to produce an heir and you had not been able to get pregnant yourself. Once she had the child, the child would be ours to raise, she was merely going to be a surrogate of sorts; she understood and agreed to the terms and from there we began the affair.

She finally fell pregnant 6 months ago with a boy. While I should've told you about my plans before approaching her, I most definitely should have told you once she was with child. I am sincerely sorry that you found out the way you did. I wish I could have told you myself, under better circumstances.

Please consider coming back home so that we may be a proper family.

Eternally yours, Tom

You felt a few tears slip out and drip from your eyes onto the parchment, smearing the ink that stained the page with its terrible words. Oh how you wish he hadn’t written to you. His answers did not bring any form of acceptance of his actions, only further heartbreak. It was hard for you to comprehend how he could have sex with her and then return home to you as if all was normal.

“Reducio,” you muttered, shrinking the letter. You carefully folded it, being sure not to rip it, before you got out of your seat and made your way to your closet. On the top shelf, in the furthest corner, sat an intricately carved wooden box with flowers lining the top and sides. The initials M.R sat right above the lock. You conjured a small stepping stool, but even with the stool you were still unable to reach it, leaving yourself to blindly swipe your hand across the shelf till you finally felt your fingers bump the edge.

With what you were looking for finally in your grasp, you got off the stool and went back to your desk. You sat down again, reaching towards one of the desk drawers, and pulling it open to retrieve the small key for the box. As soon as the lock clicked, you opened the top, revealing an empty interior.

The box was made to hold important milestone objects and keepsakes for your son. You planned to fill it with your own letters and pictures so that you could look back on it when he is older and no longer needs you, to remind yourself of simpler times. You hadn’t planned on putting anything related to Tom in there. The thought of him was far too painful, and you didn’t want to taint the little bits of happiness within.

Taking the shrunken letter you placed it in the box before sliding off your wedding ring and putting it on top of the letter. As you closed the box once again, you felt as if you were also closing the metaphorical lid on your marriage. You wouldn’t grace Tom with your presence, a simple letter would have to suffice as you decided you were going to effectively cut him out of your life.

Dear Tom,

I will keep this letter simple and to the point. I appreciate your honesty and your willingness to take some form of accountability for your actions, as I know it’s not something that comes easy to you. But, I will not be returning home nor will we be playing at being a happy family. If you want to be a family as badly as you say, then leave our marriage intact but let us live separate lives. Don’t worry, I do not plan to date or remarry, for you are my first and final love.

That all being said, do not contact me again unless it is with divorce proceedings.

P.s. congratulations on the heir you always wanted.

Sincerely, Y/N

Putting your quill down, you read over the letter one more time to be sure this was what you wanted your final words to him to be. Satisfied with what you wrote, you got out of your chair once again and left the room, heading towards the back garden where you knew the owl belonging to your aunt would be.

Walking into the small building that housed her owl you saw the bird, Chipp, still here and not away delivering mail for your aunt. You gave Chipp a few treats as a thank you for going out in the cold for delivering this letter for you before holding the letter out for the owl to take. Chipp happily took the parchment and flew off to take the letter to its recipient.

That was the last time you spoke to Tom. As the months turned to years, Tom became a distant, painful memory.

11 years later

“Mattheo! Wait up!” You called out to your son, as he excitedly ran ahead of you. You were winded trying to keep up with him, trying hard not to lose him in the crowd of teary-eyed mothers and nervous children. When you finally caught up to him, you grabbed him by the shoulder, halting him. “I understand you’re excited, but will you try not to run off,” you were panting slightly, “I would at least like to tell you goodbye.”

Mattheo looked exasperated, trying already to seem too cool to tell his mother bye. “But mum—” he started, trying to justify his running off. “No buts; now, let me see you,” you said, motioning him to turn around. He groaned, turning around to face you. You held him by his arms in front of you, “listen, and actually listen to me for once; listen to your professors and don’t cause trouble, I know how—” you paused mid sentence when something out of the corner of your eye caught your attention.

It was your husband.

Your husband, who you hadn’t seen in 11 years, with a young boy standing beside him. The two of you locked eyes and you felt a wave of discomfort hit you. How could you have been so stupid? Of course he would be here, his son and Mattheo are close in age, they’d obviously go to school together.

You decided to skip the speech and quickly walk further up the platform, trying to put more room between you and Tom. You didn’t want Tom to approach you and attempt to talk to you or your son. Mattheo didn’t need to go through such a confusing altercation on such an important day. This day was only about him and you wanted it to be special.

Once you put a satisfying amount of room between the two of you, you stopped and your son decided to ask why that man was staring at you. Waving him off, you explained, “he’s just someone I used to know, that’s all.” Mattheo looked like he had more questions, but you didn’t give him the chance to ask them. Instead, you gave him a parting kiss on the forehead and told him goodbye before all but pushing him onto the train.

You backed away and watched Mattheo walk further into the train before he finally disappeared from sight. You felt your eyes well up with tears at the reality of your son leaving for Hogwarts, giving you definitive proof of how old he was getting. It made you wish you possessed a time turner, just so you could go back to the beginning and do it all over again.

As you shuffled back toward the exit, you were lost in thought over how Mattheo would do at Hogwarts. What house would he be in? Would he make friends? How would he do academically? You were so lost in thought that you hadn’t noticed someone closing in on you until it was too late.

You felt a hand wrap around your bicep and pull you back slightly causing you to stumble into their chest. You whipped around, about to give the owner of the offending hand a piece of your mind when you saw who was touching you.

Tom looked at you, and though his face remained neutral, you swear you saw a glint of hurt in his eyes. He released your arm only to place a hand on the small of your back, “walk with me, Y/N?”

You hesitated for a second before giving him a small nod and walking with him back towards the entrance to platform 9 ¾. There was a moment of tense, awkward silence before he spoke.

“What is his name?” Tom asked. You thought about whether you wanted to tell him or not, as you knew where this conversation was headed.

“Mattheo,” was all you said. Not giving away his full name, as you weren’t ready to admit you’d given him Tom’s last name.

Tom went silent again and you looked up to see him deep in thought. Not wanting to make the situation any more uncomfortable by just staring at him, you looked away, waiting for him to speak once again. Though, once he spoke, you wish he had kept the awkward silence between you two.

“Have dinner with me tonight.”

Taglist: @the-sweet-psycho @mypolicemanharryyy @jessysfangirlworld @homan-oid @motherofdragons1998 @theeslutintheroom @pasta01 @lovefks @mwahbella @storminacloud @brooklynscherry-z @eri-s-big-sis @eversei @tomhollandisabae @rlblackbarbie @cyphah @cookielovesbook-akie

#tom riddle #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x y/n #tom riddle x you #take it #I’m going to bed

[zg0nuwa]

colors ; lin kuei trio

you guys are not going to like me after this one

cw ; angst, hurt&no comfort, character death, unrequited love, this is a song fic (personally i’m not the biggest fan but damn does this work so well with these three), might be a little ooc, i would like to sincerely apologize to tomas enjoyers, NOT PROOFREAD!!!

bi han

“ You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece ”

you knew him from the start, you were there when his father presented him the title of the future grandmaster as he was the firstborn of the family, you were there when he screamed and yelled how it’s not fair that his brothers don’t have to endure the same training as him.

you were there when his mother, the only figure in his life he could consider a parental one, died and you were there when he finally got granted the title of the grandmaster of lin kuei.

you were always there, no matter his failures, small mistakes and fits of rage as something didn’t go the way he wanted. no matter how ragged he seemed to be you saw the same little boy that strived to make everyone proud, strived for perfection.

“ And now you're tearing through the pages and the ink ”

who would’ve thought that the same boy you so admired for his commitment, for his determination would be the cause of your downfall. of course you loved him, how could you not? he tore through your thoughts like spilled ink through paper.

day and night, dawn and noon, sunrise and sunset it was about showing your worth to him. and of course it didn’t matter. he was so oblivious, so engrossed in his goals and ideas that he didn’t even consider spending his time on foolish matters like love.

he believed a person in love is a fool, an idiot, a naive moron that believed anything the loved one said. and he was right.

“ Everything is blue; his pills, his hands, his jeans ”

after the betrayal you tried so hard to rid yourself of the color of his vest. the blueness spilling everywhere from your walls, your clothes, the sky outside your window during exhausting days and sleepless nights. it was like a ghost was following you, eyes playing tricks and your brain showing the so dreaded color in the corner of your eye.

so when he actually arrived at the doors of shirai ryu you didn’t believe it. it was like a fever dream, they way his eyes gazed at you with pure hatred and resentment. you stared hoping to see something deep in there, like a confession, that he wished he didn’t have to do it, that he did it because he cared about you, that he loved you.

but there was nothing there, just the endless pit of rage.

“ And now I'm covered in the colors, pulled apart at the seams ”

you knew you wouldn’t stand a chance, not because you were not a warrior, you were, a great one even but even Achilles had a weak spot right? the only difference was that while Achilles had his heel you were standing face to face with your weakness. and he knew how to use this advantage.

“ you were supposed to be on my side. what a disappointment you are. ”

the hunting blue about to drown you, his clothes, the dark sky, the ice forming around his forearms, the color that now represents the clan which brought so much destruction to your home, the same color you once could even said you loved to death, just because it belonged to him.

“ And it's blue… ”

he stood above you with the bloody ice spear in his hands, directed perfectly at your beating heart. the heart that beat of him, at the pace he played. and of course he struck right where he wanted. he just couldn’t be more perfect, right?

tomas

he thought he lost everything he could, two families torn apart and he couldn’t comprehend what sins he must’ve committed to deserve such thing. but even with that he never lost hope, he didn’t care how childish it sounded. he still had kuai liang, he still had you.

“ Everything is grey “

you know what they say right? how everything has its end? good or bad, things will always end one way or another. and tomas knew, but oh how he wished things never ended. not now that you finally setteled in together at the shirai ryu he thought things will finally go the right way for him.

not everything was picture perfect, he still felt the immense guilt for “separating” the brothers and dragging you just by affiliation into this mess. sleepless nights spent with silent tears while you slept peacefully. harsh trainings and to top it off clumsiness from lack of sleep.

bruises and cuts becoming a normalcy for him. and so did become this far away, clouded look on his face.

“ His hair, his smoke, his dreams ”

you tried everything to get him out of that state, but if there’s one thing he shares with both bi han and kuai liang it’s the god damn stubbornness. you loved each other dearly, theres no denying that but the wall he created between you was becoming too much. for both sides.

the last time you confronted him about all the nights you spent alone or the times he ignored you during the day it ended in a screaming match. even if for him it was like a nightmare come true he couldn’t help but think he deserved you walking out on him with a loud and heart-wrenching scream.

“ i’m tired tomas, i cannot take this anymore! ”

oh how he wished it had never come to this.

“ And now he's so devoid of color ”

and now as he holds your body close to his chest, both your faces covered in blood, he understood that if there was someone to be deserving or undeserving of something, it’s you. you deserved better than him, better than what he had put you through, and you certainly didn’t deserve for your life to end this way.

“ i’m sorry, i’m so so sorry, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. ”

he didn’t know what hurt more. the sight of your face slowly losing color, eyes slowly losing life, and the hold on his cheek becoming less and less firm or the fact that after all this, you still forgave him. it felt like someone had just shot him in the face, right between his eyes…

…and the scar stayed, for a long time. just like the shades of gray in his eyes and heart after losing the only source of color in his life.

“ He don't know what it means ”

the hope was all lost now.

kuai liang

“ You were red and you liked me 'cause I was blue ”

‘childhood sweethearts’ was what a lot of people described you two as. friends from day one, that’s what comes with being a child of the grandmasters closest friend. you did everything together, all of your firsts were with the other one present.

“ But you touched me and suddenly I was a lilac sky ”

a sweet reality, truly. your best friend being your actually first ever friend, being your first handhold, your first kiss, even your first time. but isn’t it somewhat normal? teenagers exploring their possibilities, their sexuality, their bodies. it all seems harmless until feelings come in the way. they started after the kiss and only got worse.

it would be normal to consider that he liked you too, right? so when he asked you to meet up in your secret spot because he had something important to tell you? oh boy you were losing your absolute mind.

choosing your best clothes, doing your hair, you obviously wanted to be your best in that moment. waiting in the spot was becoming an agonizing activity, you came over half an hour earlier then you were supposed to because of excitement.

“ And you decided purple just wasn't for you ”

it was supposed to be the best day ever for you until you saw him leading a girl you recognized. harumi, of course you knew who she was. you were always jealous of her, her stupid perfect face, her stupidly beautiful hair, her stupid smile. and yet here she was, standing in a place you wanted so badly to occupy.

and kuai liang stood proudly in front of you, a smile on his face, his chin held high in pride. he looked happy, maybe even happier then he ever been. happier than he has ever been when with you.

“ i wanted you to be the first one to know, harumi is my girlfriend ”

because best friends since childhood always share their firsts. and it’s so sweet.

feeling a bit silly tbh :3

#bi han #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #sub zero mortal kombat #bi han mortal kombat #bi han sub zero #bi han x y/n #tomas x reader #tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke x reader #smoke x you #kuai liang x reader #kuai liang #scorpion x reader #scorpion #scorpion mk #mk1 x you #mortal kombat x reader #mk x reader

[freetobeeyouandme]

Chapter 2: At Least the "Prophecy" Comes With a Free Sword

The next chapter of my Byler Isekai AU is now up on Ao3! Mike meets the rest of the gang, has an audience with the village kook, and learns how to get home...sort of.

Tags: M, Graphic Descriptions of Violence, Fantasy AU, Canon Typical Violence, Canon Typical Horror, Friends to Lovers, Slow Burn

Summary:

Mike Wheeler hates High School, so when he almost dies and falls through a portal to another world, he’s not going to complain. Especially not when that world does not only have swords and magic but seems to work exactly according to the rules of his favorite tabletop role-playing game. But his euphoria might be short lived because the party of adventurers he falls in with turns out to be the target of an evil god and the fate of the world might rest on their shoulders. So, exactly like his games of D&D. Except the wanna-be Paladin soon realizes that being a hero is much harder in real life than it is in-game. - Or, Mike gets isekai’d into a world where D&D is real.

An excerpt and taglist below the cut:

Excerpt:

The group’s worry about his appearance feels a little overstated as they make their way down to the village, avoiding the main road in favor of a beaten path through the fields, and then don’t even really enter the village. Will’s parents’ cottage sits at the outskirts of the town, not as far away as the farms but still not nestled close to the other houses. Behind it there is only a large backyard, fenced in with wooden poles that have seen better days, and then only fields and trees. A little herb garden sits beside it and a large oak tree with a little weathered swing, rocking happily in the breeze, sits out front.

As they reach the front door, Will takes the lead.

The door opens on the smell of something hearty and savory – stew, Mike thinks, although he can’t place the type – and a warm voice calling out: “Hi, sweetheart. You guys are back early.”

Will steps inside, holding the door for the rest of them. El slips in past him, tearing off her cloak as she does. The others gesture for Mike to follow, so he does, even though the thought of meeting even more new people has him feel suddenly very tired. Part of him wishes the party was on the road on their own and he just had to contend with them at a camp fire. The other part of him misses his mother and wants some warm food to comfort him.

The layout of the house seems to be as simple as its exterior. The entrance opens into a big room with a kitchen in the back, a dining table almost in the entry, and a couple armchairs and a couch in front of a fireplace to the far side. A hallway branches of right beside the kitchen, leading towards the back of the house. In the kitchen stands a blue-scaled Dragonborn woman with her back to them, stirring stew in a large cauldron over an open fire. Another Dragonborn, this one with purple scales like Will, hunches over the table, writing something.

He dips his quill into the ink before him, briefly glancing up as they enter, then at his paper and then, with his hand frozen above the page, looks back up at the group in the doorway with wide eyes trained on Mike.

And Mike understands the feeling.

“I’m guessing your meeting didn’t-” the Dragonborn woman begins and breaks off as she similarly turns to the group and counts one more among them than had left the house.

Will, without preamble, grabs the hood at the back of Mike’s head and pulls it free to reveal his face.

El takes no note of the way the mood perceptibly shifts from warm to something…not quite less welcoming but certainly more tense. She drapes her cloak over one of the free chairs and makes her way beside the Dragonborn woman, sniffing the stew. “Smells good.”

The woman smiles at her, brushing her short hair affectionately with a claw-tipped hand, and says: “I just put it on, so you’ll have to wait until later.” A little less affectionately she nods at Mike: “Who is he?”

El shrugs. “Human. Is Hop still out back?”

The woman sighs. “Yes, your father’s still out back. Where did you find a human?”

At the mention of El’s elusive father Mike tenses, remembering Lucas asking him about some capital ‘F’ father earlier. He hopes it’s not the same guy. The Eleventh of the Circle and the Crown Prince seem like enough main characters to meet in one day. He really doesn’t have to add the Father, whoever he is,to the list.

Beside him, Will steps forward, gesturing towards Mike. “Mom, Jonathan, this is Mike, he fell through a portal by accident. Mike, this is my brother, Jonathan, and my mother.”

Mike feels a little awkward as he waves. “Hi.”

Jonathan rises to his feet, waves equally awkwardly, and then disappears towards the back of the house.

Will’s mother crosses the room and offers Mike her hand. She clasps his warmly and it’s almost not strange even though her skin feels as leathery and cold as her son’s. “It’s nice to meet you, Mike.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mrs., uh-”

“Byers,” she replies. She squeezes his hand before moving on towards her son. Placing a hand on top of his head the way she had just done with El, she says: “Your father won’t be pleased to hear this, though. We had a visitor just after you left, and well…”

She doesn’t elaborate, but she doesn’t have to. As the party behind Mike spreads out, hanging up their cloaks and beginning to loiter around the room, a door slams at the back of the house and then someone complains, loudly: “No, no, no. No, no, no, no!”

Jonathan returns first, taking a place against the back wall. “Hope you guys have figured out who to blame for this already,” he says. It sounds like a joke.

Mike hopes it’s a joke.

Unofficial Tag List (aka you interacted with my snippet posts, please tell me if you want me to not tag you in the future (or want to be added)): @smalltownwheeler @wheelerpilled @wrong-energy @willthelies @foodiewithdahoodie @doggo9 @gardenfairie @beelikesbyler @beverlysclown @yickarus @sourdough-el @hessolivagant @hesquietoday @oldfashionedmorphine @total-serene560 @bylersrise @hawkinsunderground @longtallglasses @generalstorecashier @usnaavi @camel-casing @bylersbear01

#byler #mike wheeler #will byers #stranger things #kingslayer fic

[slasherscream]

hear me out crazy ass boy gang with a s/o that writes them songs but has never shown them. randomly the guys find them knowing them some are gonna be insufferable with the amount of arrogance they now possess and some of them have no clue what to do with the concept of someone loving them and verbalizing it 🥺

A/N: oooh my gosh i'm obsessed with this concept

billy loomis: Was waiting for you to get back from school/work, and couldn’t keep his hands to himself. He wasn’t necessarily trying to find anything, but the book was on your desk- you were asking him to read it, at this point. He’s only halfheartedly looking until he realizes the words are lyrics. It doesn’t take a genius to realize the love songs are written with him in mind. At first it makes him smirk. But he can see the evolution of your relationship through the lyrics. General feelings of infatuation melting into the deeper connection of being in love with him, as opposed to being in love with love itself. It’s an ego boost, for sure. Mostly it’s a relief. Here are your feelings, written out on page, clear as day. Your every unfiltered thought. He doesn’t tell you he read the book. He just walks around with a knowing smirk on his face that you’re very suspicious of. You’re easily distracted from this onset of smugness by his sudden romantic nature. He’s never been a bad boyfriend, but he’s certainly never been so downright doting. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, you decide to just enjoy this random streak of tenderness.

josh washington: You two were moving in together and he was just trying to unpack some of your boxes for you. He’s honestly just setting up your desk for you. All the boxes are marked so that either one of you can unpack anything inside with at least a vague idea of where the stuff should go. Something about the unmarked notebook that doesn’t look like its for school makes him take a look inside. When he realizes how personal it is he wants to put it down. Then he spots his name... and well, he isn’t a saint.

He melts as he goes through the pages. He knows the two of you love each other. You have to love each other, with all the bullshit you’ve been through. But he knows it’s not easy to be with him. Sometimes he worries that you’ll wake up one day and be done with him. Be done with all the problems that come with being with him. He wouldn’t blame you but the thought leaves him hollow. He doesn’t know what he’d do without you. He doesn’t know if he could handle you being gone. You love him though. It’s inked into the pages. Some songs written out slow and careful, and others written out sloppy and fast, like you had to get all the feeling out of your chest because it hurt to have it all trapped inside. You’ll walk in carrying takeout and find Josh crying. You nearly drop the food to run and comfort him. When he tells you what’s wrong - or really, what isn’t wrong, you won’t even have the heart to be angry. He looks somewhere between overwhelmed and awe. All he can think to do is pull you into his arms. He holds you so tightly you wonder if he’s afraid someone will come and take you away.

stu macher: He was just going through your stuff because he was bored, honestly. He wasn’t expecting to find anything juicy. The minute he realizes he’s holding onto a notebook full of songs he’s giddy. It’s practically a diary! You'll come into your bedroom and see him poring over your words without shame. He won’t even have the decency to stop. “Hey babe!”, will be his absentminded greeting as his eyes stay glued to a far-too-familiar book. You’ll have to literally snatch it from him. “Didn’t know you felt this way about me.” His teasing will be relentless. You’ll have to threaten to break up with him, and give him a bit of the silent treatment too. Eventually he’ll ease up on you, his grin going soft around the edges. “You should show me them on your own next time. Else I’ll have to go hunting for ‘em.” It’s not an idle threat. Now that he knows the book exists he’ll really tear up your entire house looking for it. Don’t bother trying to hide it. It won’t be worth the headache. 

jd: His first instinct is to become insufferable. As he reads more of your lyrics, he starts getting overwhelmed. Even as he holds the proof in his hands, he can barely wrap his head around you feeling so strongly about him. He traces over your handwriting and relishes every word. You'll catch him in the act but you won't have the chance to get angry. He kisses you like a man starved. Whispers every thought of love he's ever had against your lips, uncaring if he sounds obsessed. He was allowed a glimpse at your soul. It's only fair that he bares his in return.

kevin khatchadourian: Honestly was indifferent at first. He was going through your things because ‘why shouldn't he?‘ when he found all the songs. Page after page he reads. Slowly but surely it starts to get to him. The only person who's ever loved him is his father, and that love is built upon an endless tapestry of falsehoods and manipulation. His father loves someone who doesn't exist. His mother knows him, always has, but she despises him. Celia loves him, but it's pathetic. The hopeless and unthinking love of a dog. And now there's you. When he's with you he drops the act of normality he puts on for everyone else. You were around so constantly that he couldn't stomach wearing the mask 24/7. Beyond that though, there was something about you that made him want to show you everything. At first he thought he wanted to scare you. Now he doesn't know what he really wants from you.

As he reads through the pages he's sifting through your words, finding the deeper meanings. Watches as you stop writing about his mask, and start writing about him. Jagged and malicious and apathetic as he might be. You're infatuated          maybe you even love him. You've written out the words in a hundred different ways. He can see it every time you look at him, reach for him, follow him, talk to him. Reading it is different, somehow. You probably never wanted him to see these words. To know the depth of how you feel. You were probably afraid he'd mock you. A few months ago he would have. Now? He puts the book back, exactly where he found it.

He won't tell you about reading it, but the words are always on his mind. You'll think you misplaced the book one day and be beside yourself over losing it. Eventually you’ll find it again, out of the blue. Something is off about it though... but you’re not sure what. You’ll never know that what you have is a replica of the original book. A good replica, granted, but a replica nonetheless. Kevin thought about the songs too much, and committing them all to memory hadn’t scratched the itch. The constant cycle of the words running through his head. The irritation he’d feel when he forgot a part of a song, or mixed lyrics together. Having the book itself? It quieted his mind. He’s uncomfortable with the fact that he keeps it under his bed, tucked away inside a lock box, just so no one would be able to look at it. He’s never felt so protective over an item before. He tries not to think about it too much.

nathan prescott: He actually looked at your song book on accident. He needed to borrow some notes for a class and you told him he could just go to your room and grab them. He would never go searching for something like that. Saying he values his privacy would be an understatement, so he'd never disrespect yours. As soon as he realizes these are songs he wants to stop reading... but he's desperate to know what you think of him. People lie so easily, but here's a chance to see the raw truth of how you feel. He's terrified as he starts to read. Then he's just shocked. He'd hoped you weren't like everyone else around him. Wanting him to fail, to lose it, waiting for some sort of pay-off or trickle down. Even if you were, he wanted you so badly he was willing to have you any way you came, as long as you stayed. But here you are, your deepest feelings written out in ink, and you love him. You don't even pity him, you ache for him, want him. The next time he sees you he tells you he loves you for the first time. You'll never know that he read your songs, you'll only notice how much your relationship seemed to change over night.

sebastian valmont: Has to deflect. The only reason he’s being such an asshole about your songs is because he’s trying to deflect. He’s the only one here who has also written about you. Maybe not in lyrics, or in poetry, but he’s written about you. His diary is full of you. He started writing about you the moment he met you. Not unusual for him, considering absolutely everything is in his journals. But from the start there’s been something different about the entries that mention you. All his words suddenly become electric, leaping off the page. His descriptions of you, of the time you spent together, nearing obsessive in their detail. As if you were a puzzle he was trying to solve.

If there’s anything Sebastian is good at its manipulation. He knows he has you. He can have anyone, if he puts his mind to it. He’s made people fall in love with him before. There’s a long line of people who wants his head on a platter for that very reason. You’re the only prize that’s ever mattered, though. He has you now, sure. But what about tomorrow? Or the day after that? It’s easy for eyes to wander, for the heart to turn fickle. Sometimes he watches you and tries to imagine what you might want from him. Tries to figure out what he could do to keep you interested from moment to moment. If he ever shared his worries with you, his worries that you could just get bored with him and leave, just like that - you’d tell him you don’t want him to be anyone but himself. And Sebastian doesn’t want to be anyone but himself, he doesn’t. But people contain multitudes, are more than a single face. He’d rather be a version of himself that captivates you then a “true” version of himself that you can grow tired of.

But here’s written proof that you love him. As he is. All the long nights you’ve spent talking to one another, side by side. The conversations where you traded barbs and philosophy, and everything in-between. The dinners, and picnics, and phone calls, and rooftops. He was so busy observing you, and trying to create a version of himself that you could love, that he forgot that there was something real for you to fall for. Didn’t even know how much of himself he was earnestly offering to you. Now he can see it in ink, and it’s scary, even with how much he loves you, to realize how much of the real him you know.

So he’s an asshole for a few days. When you confront him he falls apart like a wet sandcastle. You won’t have time to get angry before he’s pushing his own journals into your hands. Sebastian has never played fair, but something about you seeing through him despite all his masks made him want to show you more. As scary as it had been, it was also a moment of pure connection. The most electric, addicting thing he’s ever felt. He wants to feel it over and over again.

#billy loomis x reader #stu macher x reader #jd x reader #kevin khatchadourian x reader #nathan prescott x reader #sebastian valmont x reader #josh washington x reader #crazy ass boys gang #heathers #scream #scream imagine #until dawn imagine #i am not proofreading this if you see an error no you didn't

[apocalypticgargoyle]

I read the edgy!karl, I’ve just finished reading the alt!dream, WHEN IS GEORGE GONNA BE NEXT 😩😩

*cracks knuckles* the hcs that everyone has provided me with has hella prepped me and I'm ready. this is dedicated to 🍭 anon, whose fanart always steals my entire heart. i love u babe

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐌𝐄. ᶤ 𝐩𝐮𝐧𝐤!𝐠𝐧𝐟

± pairings: punk!Georgenotfound x fm!reader

± word count: ~3300

± warnings: smut (18+), language, tattoo work, sadism, pain kink (if you squint), domination, mentions of needles, asphyxiation

song recommendation: Cent Fois by Alice et Moi

George’s mind wandered to his curiosity of the shop across from his tattoo parlor; bright neon signs advertising the local psychic. It was a stark contrast to the dark, wet city housing the businesses. Each night he locked up, he found himself standing on the other edge of the street, staring at the signs and draperies peeking from behind the glass windows and considering shedding his skeptical nature just for one night.

While your business was alluring in and of itself, his true draw to the place came after he had spotted you moving into the apartments above. Your clean appearance completely juxtaposed the business you ran. In his opinion, all natural healers and psychics were born scam artists only focused on the quickest way to pinch a penny.

Yet day after day, he found himself having to tear his eyes from your business just to get home or he would actually venture inside. He was rather subtle about his fascination when it came to his co-workers and regular customers, but each day he prayed you would wander in, requesting some kind of tattoo in a place hidden from outside eyes.

A place he’d like to see again in a less professional setting.

You flipped the textbook page after finishing your paragraph, highlighting a date you were looking for before leaning towards your notebook and scribbling down the fact. You gnawed on the end of your pen absent-mindedly, positive you still didn’t know what your professor had been rattling off about in class a few hours prior. Your sights drifted up to the incense burning across the store from you, the stick on its last few centimeters of wood as the smoke went stale.

You chew on the inside of your cheek, debating if you should light another or wait until morning. You capped your marker and stretched your back, the bell over the door letting out a telling chime as a man peeked in.

You leaned over the counter, closing your books. “Good evening! Welcome to After Life. Can I help you find anything?” You rambled, your mind flashing to the sheet of paper tucked into the frame of your bathroom mirror so you didn’t forget the basics of customer service.

The man stepped further into your view, stuffing his fists in his jean pockets as he walked closer in a cautious motion. His dark t-shirt advertised a band you had vaguely heard of, but couldn’t think of a song even if your life depended on it. What really drew your attention were his tattooed arms; branches from a grand tree twisting every which direction to peek out from beneath his sleeves; bright floral designs and litters of birds decorating the dark wood limbs. You bit back a smile at the small mushroom tattoo near his wrist that seemed to be out of place.

The laces of his Chuck Taylors grazed the floor before he was standing in the middle of your store, looking around briefly. “I actually co-own the parlor across the street. I realized I never welcomed you officially,” he stated, hints of nervousness reflecting in his tone. His accent was calming and husky from the season change.

At the mention of the tattooist across the street, your memory flashed to the various walks of life that found themselves in your store after getting work done. You also thought of the fact that you had seen the man before you break up fights in the street stretching between your properties. The tall muscular people seemed to have no effect on him as he’d pull them apart like school children on the playground.

You pushed your books further to the side. “Oh yeah, that’s right! I should have come over and introduced myself, so don’t worry about it,” you eased, swatting the air of his comment.

He chuckled softly before reality seemed to snap into his head, making him step forward and extend a hand to you. “I’m George, by the way,” he introduced. You took his hand, muttering your own name and hoping your attention span would hold for long enough that he would be entered into your long-term memory.

His hand was calloused in yours, something that you wondered came with the job or if he was some kind of carpenter in a past life of his. You gently pulled his hand closer to you, slipping your hold out of his to look at his palm. He tittered nervously, peering at the flesh with you. Your finger traced along the mounts in his hand, finding Jupiter to be the most prominent. “That checks out,” you mumbled to yourself, nodding softly.

His eyebrows perked up. “What? Am… Am I gonna meet a tall dark stranger and take a trip across the sea?” He joked, making you smile as you looked at his Sun line.

“I didn’t peg you as an Outlander fan,” you chided.

His brows flattened for a moment, chewing the inside of his lip and playing with his snake bite piercings. You found it hard to look away from him. “Honestly, I wasn’t. A girl I was fooling around with really liked it. I don’t know…” he trailed off, making you giggle.

Your nail grazed along his heart line. “You guys were just fooling around?” You quirked, eyes meeting his. His expression narrowed smugly as if urging you to continue. “Your heart line begins below your index finger. You’re not the fooling around type.” He let out a snort. “You fall in love easily too.”

He sighed with a slight sparkle in his eyes as he looked at you. You couldn’t tell if he was amazed or mocking you again. “Well, yeah. That’s…” He paused with a swallow, biting back a grin as if he was uncomfortable, but didn’t retract his hand from you. “... That’s why we’re not anymore,” he admitted. He leaned his elbows on the counter as you sat in your chair. “What else does it say?”

Your lips curled into a soft smirk, his curious eyes trailing over your face as if to watch your brain work. “You have a fire element hand which indicates that you’re confident and passionate. Maybe a bit cocky sometimes,” you teased, making him chuckle with you. You could feel his eyes on you, sending heat to your cheeks as you tried not to focus on the mount of Venus under your touch.

You wanted to ask him about his sexual indulgences, mainly because of the prevalence of Venus in his palm. “You have a mount in Jupiter, which means you’re a natural leader, and rather dominant.” You looked up at him again, watching as he bit back a smirk, seemingly understanding the subtle innuendos behind your statements.

George seemed to have some kind of effect on you, your thoughts clouding with the idea of what his snake bites would feel like against your lips. He smelled like cigarette smoke, but there was no discoloration to his skin to suggest he was the one smoking. He watched you through the hair threatening to dangle over his eyes, his gaze hinting at an attraction he had for you below his collected form. “Go on,” he murmured, voice soft and wispy as the space between the two of you seemed to warm.

You made a conscious effort to keep your sultry thoughts at bay as your thumb brushed over the area you had been avoiding telling him about. “You’re driven by desire,” you answered, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re… very in touch with your sexuality and you thrive on your indulgences.”

You couldn’t help but meet his eyes, the dark irises swimming with some kind of cocky smugness at what you had just told him. He pulled away from you, gently standing up. Part of you wished the counter between the two of you would vanish just so you could be pressed up against George at the mercy of his driven mind. “I feel it's only fair I tattoo you now,” he quipped, making your eyebrows raise. Your confidence shriveled yet you swore you wouldn’t let him know that fact.

You chewed on your lip, looking up at him with a hint of suspicion. “Oh, I’ve never been tattooed,” you avowed, voice carrying the slightest bit of your coaxing nature.

He smirked. “I’ll take care of you, I promise,” he cajoled, teeth playing at his piercings again as you were sure he was already undressing you with his eyes. “You read me, I’d like to do the same.”

And how could you refuse such an appealing offer?

You leaned back on your elbows, your skin sticking to the leather chair beneath you as you watched him pull back his hair, elastic band dangling from his white teeth. Despite securing back his locks, bits of his bangs still hung over his forehead. You liked the interior of his parlor, maybe because it was only the two of you.

George began to fill small caps of dark ink. “I think you should get some crystals in here,” you teased, making him smirk. “I could hook you up.”

“What, like a salt lamp?” He joked, pulling on a pair of dark plastic gloves.

You snorted, lying back and looking up at the ceiling. “It might be good. Lighten the place up a bit.” George swiveled his chair closer to you muttering some kind of line about only getting them from you, but his words fell silent on your ears as his hand pushed up your shirt. You were silently thanking whatever divine force above for swaying you towards slinkier lingerie earlier that morning.

You knew he could see the lacy edges of your bra by the way his eyes nonchalantly flashed up to you before laying out his template on your ribs. You could feel hints of his warm breath against your skin as he studied it. “You can look at it if you want,” he stated.

You shook your head, wanting him close to you as long as he could be. “I trust you,” you muttered, your eyes meeting his again. His tongue pressed against his cheek as he struggled not to smile at your statement. He had promised to cover a small scar for you and by the way he explained it, you were ready to be in his hands. You wet your lips as he adjusted the speed on his tattoo gun. “Will this hurt?” You asked, tucking one of your arms behind your head.

The look of unadulterated lust that he gave you made your toes want to curl. “Probably a bit. It feels good sometimes, though,” he answered. He came closer to you, resting his forearm on your stomach to angle himself in the right position. At the feeling of his skin pressed against yours, you swore your body was on fire. It took everything in your power not to moan. It could have been the adrenaline pulsing through your veins, but his soft breath and the anticipation of the needle made you feel like a junky. “I’ll be gentle, darling,” he leered, his accent muddy and low. He let the needles drag against your skin and you bit your lip, trying not to hiss at the pain. His eyes met yours. “See, not bad.”

You let out a breathy wheeze. “Shut up, you sadist,” you quipped, his chuckle coming out rather roguish as he focused on the work in front of him. Your nerves were more focused on the way George’s hands were barely caressing your body as if teasing and hinting at what he could do to you.

You drew in a sharp breath as he hit a particularly sensitive spot. “Shhh shh. It’ll be over soon,” he cooed, his voice sending goosebumps spreading across your body as his lips tugged into a light smirk. By your palm reading, you knew he was enjoying having this much control over you.

Part of you found it almost torture when George would look at you with soft and lusty eyes for merely a second before his gaze jutted back down to his work, murmuring soft praises about how well you were taking the pain. You would go under the needle anytime he asked, just to receive the sultry treatment he gave.

He was so close, you could have driven your fingers into his dark hair if you wanted. “How did you get this scar?” He asked, cleaning off some of the ink before continuing.

“A knife fight,” you answered without missing a beat, making him scoff. “Actually, I fell into my grandma’s glass table one time. My cousin was teaching me the Electric Slide,” you corrected, making him laugh, shaking his head slightly as he filled in a spot.

He let his tongue dart across his lips. “That’s so cute. Did you ever get it figured out?” To this you shook your head, the both of you laughing. You let out a groan as the needle dug into another area on your ribs, the sound making his eyes dart up to you. He leaned off of you, slipping one of his gloves off. “Wanna hold my hand, sweetheart?” He joked, but you took his offer, squeezing his hand in yours when it got painful enough. You held it close to your chest, hoping he would feel your heartbeat quicken each time he looked at you.

As he finished up his work, his thumb brushed against your hand absent-mindedly. You could tell by the way he gripped your hand as well that he enjoyed that the tattoo hurt you. Most of your mind was excited by how easily he was stirred up by you, while the rest was completely unsurprised and even threatened to bite out that he was a cliché.

When he was finally satisfied, he cleaned you up and stuck on a SecondSkin, biting back a grin at his work as he pulled you up by the hand he was holding onto you with. You couldn’t help but smile at how excited you were to see, swinging your legs over the side of his hair and walking towards his mirror. You held your shirt up, chewing on your bottom lip as you grinned at the ink. George rested a hand beside the mirror, watching you beam at his work.

All of his lines were flawless, your scar completely disappearing within his shading. You’d pitched the idea of an ode to the Creation of Adam. While it was cliche, what better to fit in the space below your breast and give George the impression that you were cultured. Yet you told him he could do whatever he wanted to it, resulting in one of the hands resembling a skeleton and the other holding a sucker. As you praised him, he shrugged off your comments, murmuring about it being his pleasure. He reached out his free hand, letting his thumb smooth over one of the edges of this bandage, which brought you closer to him.

Your cheeks warmed at the close proximity to him as his eyes grazed over your body before meeting your own. His hand moved from the bandage to your back. You leaned on your toes, pressing your lips to his. The tension between the two of you dissipated as he hungrily reacted, pulling you against him and savoring your moans as his tongue slipped into your mouth.

George’s hands moved down your body, swiftly hooking around your thighs and wrapping your legs around his waist to bring you back to his chair. Your hands moved into his hair, letting it loose and wrapping the band around your wrist. The leather was cold as your back pressed to it. George leaned back to pull his shirt over his head, revealing more of the tree painting the expanses of his skin.

If you weren’t so eager to be touched by him, you’d be studying the work of art.

As his lips met yours again, you ground your hips against his, eliciting a moan to vibrate through his chest. You raked your nails down his back, trying to further draw out reactions from him as his hands attentively played with the lace of your bra, fingers ghosting over the skin pressing against the cups.

His lips left yours only to travel the length of your jaw and inch his way toward your waistband. Your pants were discarded with a swift tug from him before he pulled your thighs flush against his, grinding his hips against yours, hands gripping onto your sides to keep you in place. You tilted your head back, relishing in the friction as your body screamed to finally feel him take advantage of you.

You reached between the two of you, tugging at his zipper as your hunger for him escalated. His tongue flattened against your collarbone before his teeth pressed into your skin. You could feel his arousal through his jeans at the sound of your whimpering.

He pumped himself in his hand before pressing into you, the feeling of him inside of you making your head spin as if you were on some kind of ecstasy. Your moan came out needy and desperate as he thrust into you, gripping the edge of the leather seat as his breath hummed against your skin. Your fingers threaded into his hair, raking your nails down his neck as he groaned in your ear at the feeling.

One of his hands grasped your wrists together, pinning them above your head while the other wrapped around your throat. His eyes burned into yours as he leaned back, leaning his weight on your wrists and squeezing your throat, the lack of oxygen making each of your senses more heightened as he pounded into you.

Your moans of George’s name were grated as they slipped through your mouth, his relentless pace and intense hold nearly making you drool from the stimulation. By the practice of his actions, you wondered how long he had been stewing on demolishing you in this way.

He loosened his grip on your neck, leaning down to press his lips against yours, dragging his teeth along your bottom lip just to hear you groan from the rough action. You rolled your hips against his, letting him slow his pace to reach deeper within you. A sadistic grin spread across his face as he rubbed a thumb across your cheek, wiping away the makeup smudging around your eyes from his antics and the heat between the two of you.

He pressed his lips to your neck, wrapping his hand around the edge of the chair again to drive himself into you, the new angle muddling your mind and vision as your body ached to come undone. You sank your nails into his back, earning his low, raspy whispers of your name.

At his praises, you came, tugging on his hair as he bit into your shoulder again, basking in the feeling of you clenching around him.

The next day, George stretched his shoulders, peering through the front window of his shop. His mind sparked with the feeling of your legs around his waist and the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He could practically hear you whimpering his name in his ears as he went back to touching up a fading tattoo on his friend’s arm.

“OW, George,” Clay rumbled, thigh flinching at the jab from George.

George snorted, his mind still on the high he got from your pure trust in him as you laid out on his chair. “I’ll give you something to bitch about,” George grumbled, releasing just how gentle he was during your tattoo. The way your voice got soft and quiet when he rolled over a spot that was rather tender already would most definitely be a guilty pleasure of his.

Clay barked at him again as George jerked his hand, fulfilling his promise. “I’VE BEEN NICE TO YOU ALL MORNING.”

Tag List: (to be added, follow this link :))

@karlkitten @more-like-reyna @honk-izzie-was-taken @marrymetheonott @froggyy06 @savingpluto @marshmallow-babe @drunkpumpkincake @little-gremlin-in-the-walls @tinyegg @mintmochiii @clubfairy @aroyaldarknessblr @camerondiaz48104 @madsbbg @rat-poisin @alm334 @cdizzlevalntyne @phsychopathetic @froggerrrr @robinslie @jemalovesmarvel @sbi-is-my-onlysanity

#punk!georgenotfound #punk!george #punk!gnf #georgenotfound x reader #georgenotfound imagine #georgenotfound au #georgenotfound smut #gnf x y/n #gnf smut #gnf x reader #gnf imagine #mcyt x you #mcyt au #mcyt x y/n #mcyt smut

[boowanie]

Pairing: Wonwoo x Reader

Genre: Angst and fluff

Warnings: Minor character death and slight mention of a panic attack. 

WC: 6.7K+

Summary: You never thought that the stranger you met one night would become someone special to you.

“What’s happening?” Wonwoo called out as soon as he set foot into the house he shared with his close friends. He could hear the distant shouting happening somewhere in the house, a possible indication of a fight occurring between his housemates again. And he was right, there stood Seokmin and Mingyu, throwing harsh words at each other; something to do with dirty laundry sprawled across the kitchen floor.

“Didn’t I tell you to do your laundry THREE days ago Seokmin?” Mingyu bellowed at the top of his lungs. Seokmin’s glare only intensified as he clenched his right hand into a fist. Wonwoo stood at the bottom of the stairs, worried eyes observing the two.

“You yell at me for nagging you but here you are doing the same thing!” Seokmin snapped back. Before Mingyu could reply back, Joshua came in between the two, stretching his arms out to separate the fuming boys.

“Alright boys, it’s just laundry. Seokmin do your laundry now and Mingyu, take a nap to cool off or something.”

Seokmin turned on his heels, rushing down the stairs to do as he was told, greeting Wonwoo with an apologetic smile. Wonwoo sighed, walking up to his room to get the rest he was yearning for for the past week. He closed his door, padding towards his window to move the curtains shut. Without any source of light coming into his room, he laid down on his unmade bed, sighing as his head softly hit the pillows.

Wonwoo didn’t realise he fell asleep until a gentle nudge awoke him from his nap. “Wonu, it’s dinner time,” Soonyoung whispered, afraid to frighten Wonwoo with his normal tone of voice.

Wonwoo hummed in response, nuzzling his head against the pillow, “I’ll be down in a sec, Hoshi.” Soonyoung patted his cheek gently before making his way out of the room while Wonwoo tried his best to sleep again. However, Wonwoo’s ear perked up to the sound of his phone ringing in the pocket of his jeans.

He released an irritated sigh as he unhurriedly answered the phone. “Hello?” Wonwoo greeted with sleep dripping from his voice. “Wonwoo?” the person on the other line asked. Wonwoo’s sleepy eyes widened at the sound of Jiyeon’s, his ex-girlfriend’s, voice. An uncomfortable silence lingered in the air as Wonwoo sat up on his bed.

“What do you want?” he asked without any hint of friendliness in his voice. He heard something shuffle on Jiyeon’s end before she began to sob uncontrollably. Wonwoo could only roll his eyes at how pathetic she could be.

“P-please take me back, I promise I’ll be faithful to you and only you. He was a mistake, you have to believe me,” Jiyeon cried but Wonwoo remained stoic despite her pleas. He muttered a quick “no” before ending the call with her. He sighed for the last time before laying back down on his bed again.

—

Wonwoo devoured the pork belly Jeonghan left on the kitchen table for him since he took another nap after the unexpected call from Jiyeon. He began to ponder on the idea of getting back with his ex while he placed his plate on the rack. However, he quickly dismissed the idea after he remembered the pain he went through when he caught Jiyeon and her classmate in the middle of a makeout session on her bed. Wonwoo couldn’t believe his eyes and his first instinct was to punch the guy before fleeing the scene in tears.

But he couldn’t deny the hurt coursing through him after the phonecall he had with her but he also knew it was wrong to keep hurting himself like that. His eyes lingered on the washed plate, blinking once in awhile to stop the tears gathering in his eyes. Mingyu, who entered the kitchen not too long ago, watched him as he leaned silently on the fridge, careful not to scare him although it failed as soon as Wonwoo faced the door. The older male jumped, clutching his chest in the process. “Kim Mingyu, what the hell?” Mingyu waved at him from where he was standing, a sad smile on his lips.

“Wanna talk about it?” Mingyu asked. Wonwoo shook his head, knowing that he had already drunkenly poured out his feelings to Mingyu and the rest of his housemates for weeks after the breakup. He didn’t want to burden them more with his personal problems.

“Nah, I’m good. I think I just need to get some fresh air.”

—

He wandered around his university campus, finding the empty rooftop Mingyu mentioned the night before. Mingyu discovered it after a stressful exam where he walked around campus, trying to find somewhere to spill his tears. And that’s when he found the rooftop of the science building, empty and abandoned through the blurriness of his tears.

Wonwoo spotted the science building and made his way up through a secret passage that Mingyu instructed him to take. He climbed the rusty stairs that creaked with every step he took which alarmed him but he continued his way up anyway. When he got to the top, he found the door shut tightly which he nudged open with all the force he could muster.

When the door finally budged, Wonwoo heard a loud curse which made him panic at the sound coming from the other side.

“Who the fuck?”

“Shit I’m so so so sorry-”

“Well don’t just fucking stand there, help me up.”

Wonwoo blinked at you for a couple of seconds before your words registered in his mind. He let out a faint “oh right” before offering you his hand. You gladly took it, wincing at the shooting pain in your elbow which you were convinced was bleeding.

“Fuck, my elbow’s bleeding. Thanks a lot you idiot.”

Wonwoo reached out to grab your elbow in his hand. His eyes lingered on your bleeding elbow before taking some unused tissues that were shoved in his coat pocket. He dabbed the tissue on the bleeding wound, wincing now and again.

“You do know I’m the one bleeding and not you?” you scoffed, your eyes focused on his face rather than the blood trickling down your elbow.

“You shouldn’t have been standing there anyway,” Wonwoo muttered.

“So you think it’s my fault?” you questioned.

“No, why are you even up here at this ungodly hour,” he whispered, not wanting you to hear.

“I could ask you the same,” you replied. Wonwoo took out another tissue and asked you to hold it in place since he didn’t have any band aids with him, but you shrugged off his order and thanked him instead before taking a seat on the ground. You chugged the remaining beer in your can and crushed it with your hands.

Wonwoo watched you with curious eyes as you cracked open another can and handed it over to him. You stood up and gathered the cans of beer lying on the ground before making your way towards the door.

“Rooftop’s all yours.”

You were gone before Wonwoo could answer. He began to wonder who you were and what you were doing on the rooftop at this hour of the night but he realised that maybe you were here for the same reason he was; to get away from reality. He took a long sip of the beer you handed him, his eyes spotting a notebook where the crush cans were once scattered.

He reached out, reading the black ink across the cover of the notebook, y/n. he didn’t mean to flip through it but curiosity got the better of him and he opened the notebook to find art pieces scattered on the pages.

“Huh, aren’t you a mystery.”

—

You awoke the following morning to the sound of your roommate yelling at you. As soon as you opened your eyes, you instantly massaged your temples to soothe your throbbing headache but it wasn’t enough to calm the soreness you were feeling. Your roommate’s voice did nothing to help ease the pain and Seungkwan only worsened it by pushing your bedroom door against the wall with a loud thud.

“Drunk again?” he huffed, pinching his nostrils close to stop the smell of alcohol from making him gag. Seungkwan never liked it when you drank, he didn’t like the smell and he certainly hated the fact that you were slowly drowning yourself with alcohol to make the pain of losing someone go away. Seungkwan tried to convince you that he could help but you always turned down his offer with a lousy excuse that you “can handle it”. As a year passed by, your drinking habit only worsened but you still managed to ace your classes and somehow function with all the alcohol that was in your system.

“That’s the last time I’ll ever drink Seungkwan, I promise,” you stuck your pinky finger towards him, wiggling it as you waited for him to wrap his own around your finger. You really wanted to stop and this time, you wanted to keep your promise to your bestfriend to ease the worries he had for you and your health. Seungkwan could only sigh at his bestfriend as he took your pinky finger around his.

“I made you hangover soup y/n” is all he said after he turned on his heel and left your room with a quiet sigh. You looked around your room, the curtains still shut to prevent any source of light from shining through the window but the god awful smell of alcohol that reeked in your room was enough for you to stand up and pull the curtains open. You nudged the window with your hand and the sudden gust of wind had you almost stepping back by its force. You still welcomed it and as you cleaned around your room, the smell of alcohol slowly dissipated (with the help of some yankee candles).

When you entered the kitchen, the smell of bacon made your stomach churn and your nose wrinkle at the slight scent of burning food. “Seungkwan! your bacon is burning,” you yelled, walking over to remove the bacon from the frying pan. You heard Seungkwan yell something you couldn’t quite hear so you shrugged and turned off the hob. Your eyes landed on the hangover soup he made you and your stomach growled at the sight. 

“Thanks for the soup, Kwannie,” you yelled out to him.

You were thankful for the fact that your photography lecture didn’t start until one in the afternoon so you had plenty of time to soothe your headache and plan out your night carefully without having to involve bottles and bottles of soju this time. You wanted to go up to the rooftop to retrieve your notebook that you forgot to take before leaving the handsome stranger all alone. 

Your mind wandered back to him. You remembered the panic in his eyes when he saw the blood gushing down your elbow and it made you chuckle slightly. You lifted up your elbow to glance down if a scab was starting to form on the wound. Your grimaced at the sight and continued to eat your soup again.

“Hey, I found this in your jacket,” Seungkwan held up some bloody tissues with a worried look on his face. You shook your head at him, raising your pointer finger asking him to wait.

“I fell yesterday,” you finally spoke once your mouth was clear of any traces of food. Seungkwan quirked an eyebrow at you, his hands settling on his hips to wait for an explanation. 

“I was up at the rooftop last night and some guy pushed the door open and I happened to be sitting right in front of it which was totally my fault,” you explained. You watched as your bestfriend sighed, walking over to the bin to throw at the tissues.

“You should be more careful next time y/n.”

“Sorry Seungkwan,” you picked at your food guiltily. You didn’t want to worry him all the time but you always manage to anyway. He watched you pick at your food for a while before making his way over towards you.

“Look at me,” he muttered softly, bringing his hand under your chin. You raised your head to look up at him. He gave you a small smile before pressing his lips on your forehead.

“You know I’ll always be here for you y/n, right?”

—

Wonwoo awoke not too long ago because of Seokmin and Mingyu yet again. He rolled his eyes when he heard Mingyu yelling as Seokmin chased him around the house. He stretched his arms above his head, his top slowly riding up to reveal a small section of his lower stomach. He grabbed his glasses that were sitting on his bedside table along with the notebook that belonged to you.

He mentally noted to ask Minghao if he knew anyone called “y/n”. It seemed like you were an art student so Minghao was the first person he thought of. He stood up from his made and made his way over to his bathroom to start getting ready for his morning lectures.

He brushed his teeth slowly, his mind wandering back to how you cursed at him last night which made him chuckle at the memory. He didn’t mean to continue flipping through your artwork last night but he was mesmirised by your pieces. He even found a picture of you tucked between the last few pages of your notebook and he admired the small smile that you gave the camera. 

“WONU!” Mingyu yelled from outside, making him slightly choke on water as he gargled.

“Food’s ready downstairs!” 

“I’ll be out in a sec Mingyu.”

—

You fished out your phone from your pocket, turning the flashlight on to help you see the rusty stairs better. The sound of the stairs leading to the rooftop creaked slightly with every step you took. 

“These steps are going to break one of these days,” you muttered to yourself, keeping the cup of coffee near your chest to warm you up. The weather didn’t co-operate with you tonight. You were forced to wear something warm by your bestfriend and he even made you wear a beanie to protect your head from the cold.

As soon as you got to the top, you pushed the door open with your frame. When the steel door finally opened, you quickly heard a loud thud when it hit something or someone as soon as it opened. 

“Shit,” you heard a deep voice say from the other side.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry,” you began to apologise as you pulled the door shut to reveal the person that was standing behind it and to your surprise, you found the stranger from last night, clutching his arm tightly. You both gave each other a look of shock before bursting out into a fit of laughter.

“You again?” you both said at the same time.

“I guess I deserved that,” Wonwoo said, sitting back down on the ground. You gave him a guilty look before sitting beside him. 

“I’m really sorry about your arm,” you said, poking it before sipping on your hot coffee. He quirked an eyebrow at you, “I’m surprised you’re not cursing me out right now.” You gave him another guilty look, blowing on your coffee and taking another sip to before answering him.

“That wasn’t me yesterday,” you said, giggling as Wonwoo rolled his eyes at you.

“I don’t even know your name,” you laughed.

“I remember you giving me a name last night though.”

“What?”

“Yeah, something along the lines of idiot,” he teased, watching as your eyes widened in surprise again.

“I’m so embarrassing,” you groaned, placing your coffee on the ground to cover your heating face with your hands. You heard Wonwoo laugh at your embarrassment, patting your back as you continued to mutter words to yourself.

“Don’t sweat about it y/n,” he giggled. Your ears perked up to the sound of your name leaving his lips, not remembering if you told him your name or not.

“How’d you know my name,” you asked, removing your hands away from your face. He gave you a shy smile before pulling your missing notebook out of his jacket. He waved it around before handing it back to you.

“You forgot this last night and I may have snooped around.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to..I was just really intrigued by your art. They’re all amazing by the way,” he complimented, rubbing the back of his neck while looking at you.

“Oh no, it’s absolutely okay. Thanks for bringing it back to me and thanks for the compliments,” you shyly replied, picking up your cup of coffee again. Comfortable silence enveloped you while you both looked at the bright moon. You suddenly remembered why you were up here.

“Shoot,” you whispered, fishing out your camera that was tucked carefully in your jacket. 

“Do you mind if I do something for my photography class?” you glaced at Wonwoo.

“No go ahead,” he smiled.

Wonwoo watched as you brought the camera up to face, adjusting the lens before taking multiple shots of the night sky. Wonwoo would be lying if he didn’t think the view before him was mesmerising. He didn’t know why the beating of his heart fastened when you looked satisfied at the shots you took.

“Can I ask for your opinion...” you started.

“Wonwoo.”

“Right, so can I ask for your opinion on these pictures Wonwoo?” you shyly asked him, tucking piece of hair behind your ear.

“Let me see them,” he scooted closer to you, leaning down to look at the pictures.

And that’s how you and Wonwoo spent the rest of the night, chatting about your art, his course and anything that you and him could think of. You and Wonwoo didn’t realise it was past one in the morning until Seungkwan texted you to come home.

“Oh shit,” you muttered, quickly standing up and gathering your notebook and the empty cup of coffee in your hands. Wonwoo also stood up, taking his phone out before thrusting it in your direction.

“C-can I maybe have your number y/n? I’d really like to talk to you more,” he asked, his ears turning red at his own question. You nodded, taking his phone to put your number in his contacts. 

“I’ll walk you back to your apartment if you want?” he offered.

“If it’s not too much to ask,” you replied, chucking the empty cup into the bed as soon as you got down from the rooftop.

“Let’s get you home then.”

—

You tapped your fingers on your thighs, waiting patiently for Wonwoo to come pick you up from your apartment. It had been four months since you and Wonwoo met on the rooftop. You both realised how much you complimented each other. It was nice that he got you to experience some of his hobbies while you taught him the things you were learning in your photography lectures. He was also patient with you whenever you were in one of your moods while you gave him the space he needed whenever he was having a hard time with things he would rather not tell you, yet.

Seungkwan and Mingyu even thought that you and him were good for each other. You were barely drinking now and even if you did, it was always with Wonwoo at the convenience store, talking about everything and anything your minds could think of.

You’ve grown to love Wonwoo’s company.

Woo 🐱: I’m outside your apartment bld ☺️

You: Be down in a sec 💕

You yelled out to Seungkwan that you were going, slipping your shoes on by the door before leaving your apartment with a big smile on your face. You and Wonwoo decided to visit the museum outside your university campus. You were excited to to find some inspiration for your upcoming art project and Wonwoo just wanted to spend time with you.

“Hey,” you walked over to Wonwoo, giving him a side hug.

“Do you think you’d be able to come with me to the recording studio after going to the museum?” he grabbed your elbow before crossing the street to get to the bus stop.

“Yeah, are you and Jihoon recording a new song?” you hummed, taking out your bus card when you saw the bus approaching.

“Yeah, it’s for our music theory class. Jihoon wanted to put some vocals on his new track so he asked me to be his partner.”

You’ve never heard Wonwoo sing but according to Mingyu and Soonyoung, he sounded angelic whenever he sung.

“Can’t wait,” you tapped your bus card, taking a seat at the back by the window. Wonwoo followed you, sitting beside and leaning his head on your shoulder. He yawned, closing his eyes and nuzzling his head against your shoulder.

“Tired?”

“Just a little bit,” he yawned again.

“I’ll wake you up when we’re near.”

—

You walked around the museum in silence with your notebook in hand, doodling some pieces that sparked your interest. Wonwoo, on the other hand, read each and every information that came along with the art pieces. You found it adorable when he would tilt his head as he focused on reading the information. He would look at you whenever you giggled at him, smiling and nudging you with his hip.

Your eyes landed on the final artwork in the museum, a grin making its way to your face. It was a simple artwork of the moon but the different shades of dark colours to mimic the sky made you more and more interested in the artwork. Wonwoo finally caught up to you and stood by your side.

“I..i think this is my favourite out of them all y/n,” he whispered beside you.

“Mine too.” You took out your notebook again, doodling on your notebook while Wonwoo watched you. You didn’t notice that Wonwoo took out his phone and backed away from you slightly. He tapped his phone to get his camera to focus on you, taking a picture of you as you doodled on your notebook.

“Beautiful,” he whispered quietly.

You looked up at Wonwoo, smiling brightly at him.

“I think I’m done ‘Woo,” you finally showed him your drawing, his eyes looking at the artwork.

“You’re so talented y/n!” He ruffled your hair before placing his arm around your shoulder. Wonwoo and you looked at the artwork for the last time.

“To the studio we go?”

“To the studio we go.”

—

“If you keep staring at Wonwoo like that, he might melt,” Mingyu sneaked up from behind you. You jolted in your seat, clutching your chest as you tried to calm your beating heart.

“Are you serious Kim Mingyu?”

“I didn’t realise you were this jumpy y/n.”

You threw a piece of crumpled paper at his face which he dodged, knocking the spare seat along the way. This caught the attention of a couple of people that were quietly sipping on their beverages in the coffee shop. Wonwoo watched you and Mingyu bicker while he took another coffee order. He chuckled softly when he saw you throw another piece of crumpled paper at Mingyu’s face.

While you and Mingyu were bickering about your apparent feelings for Wonwoo, both of you didn’t notice Wonwoo’s face drop when his ex-girlfriend entered the coffee shop. Mingyu finally looked up to find Wonwoo arguing with Jiyeon at the side of the coffee shop. Seungcheol who now took over Wonwoo’s shift, glanced at the younger male with worry evident on his face.

You didn’t notice what was happening until Mingyu tapped your shoulder.

“C-can you do me a favour y/n?”

You hummed in response, looking up to see Mingyu’s face. You dropped your pencil immediately and gave all your attention to Mingyu.

“I need you to pretend to be Wonwoo’s girlfriend like right now,” he blurted out.

“What the fuck?”

He nibbled on his lower lip before pointing his finger at Wonwoo who looked distressed as he talked to a girl you didn’t recognise.

“Who-”

“Wonwoo’s ex-girlfriend who cheated on him.”

With that piece of information, you stood up quickly and made your way towards Wonwoo. You looped your arms through his and placed your head on his arm.

“Baby,” you whined, catching both of their attention.

“I-”

“You have a girlfriend now Wonwon?” she sounded hurt as she looked you up and down.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Yeah, now please leave before my girlfriend makes a scene. And you wouldn’t like that. Trust me.”

You waved at her mockingly, grabbing Wonwoo’s hand and dragging him where you and Mingyu were sat at.

“I want the ground to swallow me whole,” you groaned when you and the boys watched Jiyeon disappear from the coffee shop.

“You owe ME Jeon!”

“How about a free kiss?” Mingyu suggested making you and Wonwoo glare at him.

“How about an explanation? Meet me at the rooftop at 8 tonight?” he glanced at the clock, realising that his break was nearly over.

“I’ll see you later,” he placed a quick peck on your forehead, leaving you and Mingyu by yourselves again.

“Forehead kisses, multiple dates and rooftop sessions? And you two still AREN’T dating?!”

“Oh fuck off Kim Mingyu.”

—

“So she fucking cheated on you and now she’s asking for you to take her back?”

Wonwoo nodded, eating another cheeseball that you bought for him before coming up to the rooftop.

“And are you going to?” you asked nervously, not knowing why your heart hurt at the thought of Wonwoo taking back Jiyeon. It’s not like there was anything going on between you two, you thought.

You saw him hesitate, swallowing another cheeseball.

“I kinda thought about it but no, I’m never going to take her back. I don’t want to go through the pain all over again.”

You sighed in relief, “Good.”

“Why? You scared I won’t spend as much time with you anymore?”

“To be honest, yeah.”

Wonwoo watched you shyly eat a piece of chicken, avoiding his eyes. He scooted closer to you until your arms were touching. He placed an arm around your waist and placed his head on top of yours.

“Never, sweetheart. You’re very special to me, you know,” he whispered softly.

“O-okay.”

—

You were gasping for air once you woke up from your dream. You saw the look of disappointment on his face again, making your heart clench with sadness all over again.

“Not again,” you cried, placing your covers over your mouth to muffle your cries. Your hands were shaking at this point and you knew you were having an episode again. You tried to breathe calmly but memories of your time with him kept appearing in your mind.

“F-fuck,” you reached out to grab your phone from the bedside table. You dialled Wonwoo’s number, placing the phone on your ear. After the fifth ring, Wonwoo picked up humming as you called out his name.

“H-help me,” you cried, tears streaming down your cheeks as you tried to tell him the passcode to your apartment door.

“I’m on my way sweetheart. Please breathe for me okay? I’ll be there in no time.”

Wonwoo arrived ten minutes later, panting when he finally entered your room. He rushed over to your bed and removed your covers so that he could take you in his arms.

“I’m here baby, i’m here,” he took you in his lap, and began to rock you body gently to soothe your cries.

“I’m right here,” he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head, on your forehead and finally, on your cheek.

You gripped his shirt while you attempted to calm yourself down. You focused on his lips and then on his hushed voice.

“Woo,” you finally called out.

“I’m here y/n.”

“I’m s-sorry I called you here.”

“Don’t, you know I’ll always be here.”

—

After that night, you made it your job to avoid Wonwoo at all cost. You were embarrassed. You also realised how attached you’ve become to him. Seungkwan tried to get you to meet up with him and even Mingyu begged for you to stop avoiding Wonwoo.

“You’re leaving him in the dark y/n,” Seungkwan argued for the nth time. You sighed, leaning your canvas on the wall.

“I’m really busy Kwannie, can we not talk about this today?”

“Just admit that you’ve grown feelings for Wonwoo and you’re afraid that he might leave you!” Seungkwan blurted out. You dropped your paintbrush on the ground when Seungkwan snapped at you.

“I KNOW!” Seungkwan flinched as you yelled back at him.

“I’m scared I might lose him too but you can’t blame me for my own trauma Seungkwan! Now get out,” you picked up your brush again, turning your back away from him.

—

You knew you were dreaming. It had to be a dream because he was here. He was in your arms while you talked about your on going piece of artwork. Vernon leaned his head on your chest while he played with your fingers that were placed on his chest.

“I love you, you know that right?”

You gripped his fingers tightly in your hands, not wanting to let him go incase he disappeared like he always did whenever you had a dream about him.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do anything to save you, Vernon-”

“Shh, what happened to me was not your fault y/n,” he got up from where he was laying on your chest and took you in his lap.

“Nothing was your fault, okay?” he kissed your forehead.

“I shouldn’t have fought with you that day,” you mumbled, tears starting to stream down your cheeks. You gripped his shirt as he continued to whisper calming words into your ear.

“I want you to be happy. I’m at peace now, y/n.” Vernon kissed your cheek before he disappeared again.

You jolted awake, gasping for air again. Clutching your chest, you called out for Seungkwan who heard you since he was sweeping outside your door. He barged in with the sweeping brush in his hand.

“Vernon again?” You nodded, sniffling while you opened your arms for him.

“I know he’s watching over you y/n.”

You sobbed in his shirt, seeping the piece of clothing with your tears. Seungkwan’s heart broke when he continued to rub your back. He shook his head at how unfair the world could be. You didn’t deserve the heart ache of losing Vernon to a crash. You didn’t deserve to lose the man that was once the love of your life.

“What happened to Vernon wasn’t your fault, y/n.”

“I-i know,” you breathed out, “V-vernon told me it wasn’t. Seungkwan, he finally talked to me in my dreams.”

Seungkwan gave you a soft smile, soothing you with comforting words again.

“I know he’d love for you to be happy with Wonwoo.”

—

A month passed by when you saw Wonwoo again. It was only for a couple of minutes until him and Jihoon entered the studio. Despite only seeing him for a few minutes, you noticed the dark circles under his eyes and the smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes when he looked at you.

You clutched the canvas tighter against your chest as you made your way to the arts building to go into the studio to finally finish your painting that was going to be included in the exhibition a few days. When you entered the studio, you flicked the lights on and settled your canvas against the wall. You rolled your sleeves up and began to prepare your paints and paintbrushes that were going to finalise your artwork.

It took you 5 hours to complete your painting, your cheek and denim overalls sporting splotches of paint on them. You stood back and admired your work of art. You fished out your phone and captured a picture of your painting to send to Seungkwan.

While you were cleaning your brushes, your mind wandered back to a memory that inspired your artwork.

You and Wonwoo were walking home after spending hours on the rooftop. He urged you to go to the rooftop after he had a rough day. When you arrived at the rooftop, Wonwoo was already sitting on the ground with a can of beer clutched in his hand. He heard you but he didn’t bother turning around with how tired he was. You leaned down behind Wonwoo and wrapped your arms around him, placing your chin on his shoulder. You remembered Wonwoo spilling everything that went wrong that day while you hugged him tighter to calm him down.

After spending hours on the rooftop, he decided to walk you home. He was back to his normal self, nudging you with his hip as he teased you about hugging him on the rooftop for hours. You giggled when he tipsily laughed at a joke you told him. You reached for your phone that was in the back pocket of your jeans.

You quickly took a picture of Wonwoo while he laughed at another joke you told him.

“Hey! No fair,” he whined, chasing you down the empty streets of Seoul.

—

“Hey y/n, are you inviting Wonwoo to the exhibition?” Seungkwan chewed on a piece of gum while typing something on his phone.

“I already did.”

“What did he say?”

“Left me on read.”

“I’m sure he’ll come y/n,” Seungkwan reassured, squeezing your hand.

—

It was the day of the exhibition and you were walking around the hall to look at your other classmates’ paintings. You chatted to some of them and complimented them on their work while they gushed about yours. They loved the idea of your painting of the moon and a boy who was admiring the night sky. You thanked her, smiling at her art work again.

The event was coming to an end but you saw no sight of Wonwoo. Mingyu, Jihoon and even Soonyoung dropped by to see your work of art. The three of them admired your painting for awhile until it finally clicked in their minds who the boy was. They whipped their heads towards you at the same time, wearing matching smirks to tease you.

“Wonwoo huh?” Mingyu wiggled his eyebrows making you chuckle at him.

“Do you know if he’s coming?” you bit your lower lip, fiddling with your hands as you awaited for their answer.

The three boys looked at you with sympathetic smiles, “We’re not sure y/n.” They bid you goodbye after you chatted with them for a while, leaving you on your own again. Some people came up to you to ask you about your painting, asking what prompted you to paint the moon and a boy.

“Just someone special,” you smiled at the old lady.

The event came to an end at 8pm and your professor thanked all of you for presenting your paintings to the public. You were beyond tired when you grabbed your back from the staff room, wanting nothing more than to pick up some food from your favourite takeaway shop and watch reruns of your favourite show with Seungkwan.

You were the last person to leave the hall as your other classmates have already left while you were grabbing your belongings. You would be lying if you said that you weren’t disappointed that Wonwoo didn’t come to the event. However, you knew it was your fault for pushing him away when all he wanted was to be there for you.

You started walking away from the hall, halting once you heard a familiar voice calling out your name. You froze when you heard footsteps nearing you. He was here, you thought.

You turned around to see Wonwoo with a small bouquet of flowers in his hand. He smiled softly at you once he was in front of you. Wonwoo handed you the flowers and you gladly took them from his hand.

“I didn’t want to disturb you when you were talking to people so I decided not to come up to you and just admire your work from afar.”

“Did you like it?”

“I loved it y/n,” he stared at you, silence enveloping you both.

“Good, you were the inspiration for that painting,” you sheepishly revealed. He blushed at your words, tucking his hands behind the pockets of his jeans.

“How about I walk you back to your apartment?”

“I’d love that.”

You walked side by side in comfortable silence with only the noises of passing cars filling in the silence that enveloped you both. It was nice seeing Wonwoo again and you loved the new hair colour he was sporting now.

When you neared your apartment building, Wonwoo spotted the playground that he frequently passed by whenever he collected you from your apartment. He nudged your hip with his own, pointing at the swings nearby.

“Wanna chat for a bit?” You could only nod, following him as he led the way to the swings. You sat down on of the swings while he sat on the other, immediately pushing himself off. You watched in amusement as he got higher and higher, wanting to do the same. But you were too tired to even move your legs so you decided just to watch him goof off.

“Woo,” you called out.

He suddenly stopped, using his feet to stop himself from swinging any further. He turned towards you, raising his eyebrows to urge you to speak.

“I-i’m really sorry for avoiding you,” you started, fiddling with the flowers that laid on your lap.

“Wanna tell me why you did?”

You looked up at him, his eyes staring intently at you. You gulped, feeling nervous the more he looked at you with curious eyes.

“I didn’t want you to get to close..because I was afraid I’d lose you like I lost my ex-boyfriend,” you confessed, running your hand through your hair. You saw him furrow his eyebrows, probably confused as to why you were afraid of losing him when you knew he wasn’t going anywhere.

“H-he died after a drunk driver knocked him over,” you whispered, “He was going home after we argued at my apartment and that was the last conversation we had before he died the same night.”

Wonwoo gasped softly, standing up and kneeling in front of you. He tilted your head up with his pointer finger to get you to look at him. You didn’t resist, wanting nothing more but to look at Wonwoo. Tears started to form in your eyes once they met his.

“I’m really sorry Woo,” you sobbed, pulling him into a hug. He hugged you tightly, both of you nuzzling your heads into each other’s necks. You and him stayed in that position until he his knee started aching.

“You gotta let go of me for a bit, baby, my knees are starting to ache.” With the mention of the term of endearment, your heartbeat quickened.

“Baby huh?” You asked, your eyebrow raised at him.

“Yeah, because you’re my baby now,” he teased, offering you his hand to take. You gladly accepted it, swinging it softly as you and him continued to walk to your apartment building.

“I’ve something for you to listen to before you go to sleep, baby,” he smiled. You turned your head towards him, seeing the faint blush that coloured his cheeks. “What is it?” you asked. “I already sent it to you, you just have to play it when you get home okay?” You nodded, wrapping your arms around his torso. You rested your chin against his chest while you both stood outside your apartment building. You didn’t want to let him go nor did he want to leave you just yet.

“Wanna go out on a date with me tomorrow?” he asked, leaning down to peck your forehead with his lips. You nodded again, placing the side of your head against his chest. “I’d love to.”

“No more running away okay?” You pinched his back lightly before nodding again to reassure him that you weren’t going anywhere again. Despite the fear of losing him in the future lingering in the back of your mind, you were only certain of one thing. You were completely and utterly in love with the man who pushed a steel door against your body that one strange night. He was someone that your heart was longing for and he was the one who helped you heal your heart piece by piece like you did with his.

#wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo scenarios #wonwoo oneshots #wonwoo x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen angst #svt imagines #svt fluff #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you

[yeojaa]

( NEVER LET YOU GO. )

You do things without thought, making impulse decisions that’d make Freud proud.  Sometimes they pay off, sometimes they don’t.

(or:  Jeon Jungkook’s just as impulsive as you.)

pairing.  tattoo artist!jjk x f!reader.

genre + rating.  slice of life fluff, light smut.  explicit (but only at the end). 

tags / warnings.  mentions of heavily tattooed!JK, casual drinking, tender lovemakin’, JK with the bad jokes, honestly just him being funny and chill like that one guy you never get over...

wc.  7.6k.

beta reader(s).  @hobi-gif​, @papillonsgf​, and @yeoldontknow​​ 💛 ty for always indulging me and most importantly, supporting me when i begin to spiral. 🤠

author note.  i got this idea into my head one evening in the shower and now... it is this.  it’s not your usual bad boy tattoooist!JK fic but i hope you enjoy regardless.  as always, feedback means a lot! 

You and forethought aren’t close friends.  You really aren’t even distant cousins, or part of the same family tree.  You consider it a stranger, wave loftily as it passes you by, squinting like you can’t properly make out what it is.  Careful consideration?  Thoughtful patience?  None of that exists for you.  At least, not when you really, really want something. 

It’s what has you here now, bumbling your way into the tattoo shop like a newborn baby bird.  

You wonder how it must look, whether the shop assistant is used to this.  Random girl shows up on a Sunday afternoon looking like a fish out of water, eager yet afraid.  By how she greets you - with a curious stare and not quite a smile - you’re sure she is.  

“Do you take walk-ins?”

You’d meant to make an appointment.  Had sat for hours on the shop’s Instagram page, combing through the residents’ portfolios, trying to decide who to reach out to.  When you’d finally decided, you’d realised books were a thing and most of them were closed.  (Just your luck.)

Still, it never hurt to try, right? 

“Everyone’s fully booked.”  The girl sounds bored, apathetic yet genial.  (You don’t blame her.)  By the way her stare swings over you, it feels like a dismissal.  You’re ready to admit defeat - head half-bowed, words draped over your tongue.  “But our apprentice might be able to squeeze you in.”

An apprentice?  Well— that’s not exactly what you’d been hoping for, but this shop is reputable.  Well-known.  Considered one of the best in the city.  Surely their apprentice would be fine.  Just less seasoned, not as experienced. 

You all but snap your neck nodding along, gratitude tumbling out in the form of awkward laughter.  “That’d be great!”

The girl passes you off with a nod of her head, gesturing down the hall.  “Last room on the left.  His name’s Jungkook.  His schedule says he’s all clear, but maybe knock before you go in.”  It’s not the sunniest smile you’ve ever received, but the small thing she offers helps with the nerves.  Stills them beneath your skin as you do as you’re told. 

“Jungkook?”  There’s not really anywhere to knock, every wall neatly frosted glass and no doors in sight.  (You had passed a few folding screens but otherwise, it’s open concept, each room offering a glimpse into the artist who works inside.)  It feels too disruptive to tap your knuckles on one glass pane, lest it interrupt someone else. 

(His studio is minimally decorated but inviting:  one big cabinet; two of those typical IKEA shelves in the 4x4 grid that every new homeowner and their mother have; and a shop table, upon which a black backpack sits.  Various plants dress the room - both hanging from the ceiling and along the window - and Polaroids string over walls, held aloft by twine.  A Roomba sits by itself in a corner and the tattoo bed dominates most of the space, positioned closer to the dividing wall;  one teeny tiny rolling chair sits beside it.  There’s a bench on your left, with a pair of Birkenstocks tucked beneath.  All in all, very homey.  Reminiscent of your own apartment.) 

Hidden behind the bed, crouched low to the ground beside the cabinet, is a head of dark hair that speaks, drawing your attention from studying the cozy space.  “Oh?”

You’re not expecting the face that turns to you, all big doe eyes and the sweetest dimples. 

For a moment, you forget what you’re here for.  Why you’re standing in the empty door frame, staring down at the guy like you’ve spent your entire life secluded and have no idea how to speak.  

The longer you’re quiet, the more his concern seems to grow, single brow disappearing into his inky fringe.  It hangs in his vision at certain angles, shields the brightness of his stare with each turn of his chin.  “Are you okay?”  He’s even risen - stopped what he was doing - so he can see you more clearly, without any obstruction in the way.  Good for him, but worse for you. 

He’s so cute.  Were you prepared to look like an uncertain idiot in front of this… angel?

“Y-yeah.”  You manage after what feels like forever, sweeping your nerves under the rug that sits on the floor, separates the sole of his sneakers from hard concrete.  “Um— I was told you might have some time?  For, uh, a walk-in?”

(Why’re you stuttering?  You’re never shy.  Or rather, you’re not this nervous mess.  People have always called you an extrovert, outgoing as hell, a social butterfly.)

(You aren’t those things but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless.)

“Oh!”  Realisation dawns across his features, throws his kind smile into greater relief, and you have to actively tell yourself not to stare, tearing your gaze away to focus on the wall of stencils past his shoulder.  He moves into motion then, stepping around the bed to meet you still rooted in the doorway.  “Yeah, I’ve got time.  Come in.”  Up close like this - there’s only maybe two feet between you - you can make out the little scar on his cheek;  the tiny beauty mark below his bottom lip;  each individual lash that frames his Bambi eyes and flutters when he blinks.  “I probably can’t draw you anything new right now but I’ve got some flash, if you’re interested?”

Even if you weren’t interested, you don’t think you’d say no.  You were always a sucker for a cute boy and this Jungkook?  He was that.  In spades. 

“Sure.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular?”  He’s retreating back into the room, moving to grab his iPad off the far table.  It’s balanced on his arm when he swivels to you, prominent front teeth on full display.  “I’ve got a pretty big selection.” 

When he drops onto the bench - a wayward vine above his head tickling his cheek - he gestures to the spot beside him.  This time, you don’t stare for a stupid amount of time, instead taking up the seat without hesitation. 

“So—”  He’s swiping through the photo library with his Apple Pen.  You’re sure there are pretty sketches on the screen - you just can’t focus on them, too preoccupied by the artwork that crawls across his hand and into the sleeve of his oversized, well-worn shirt.  It’s an intricate chrysanthemum, impossibly well-shaded with bold colours that demand attention and stand out over his fair complexion;  it creeps halfway up the back of his hand to tickle over his knuckles.  He notes your attention with a quiet chuckle, fingers wiggling.  The ink moves, flows, ripples with the motion, before his hand relaxes, knuckles unravelling as he offers the limb to you and your curiosity.  “Do you like it?”

“It’s incredible.”  It really is.  You’ve never seen anything like it, as if a painting has been done across his skin, laid in watercolour rather than tattoo ink.  “Did it hurt?”

(You almost want to hit yourself for the stupid question.  Of course it did.  It’s a hand tattoo.)

Jungkook only laughs again, doesn’t hold it against you despite the verbal barrage you’re faced with internally.  “Like crazy, but it was worth it.  This was my first tattoo and all the rest have just sort of been—”  He shrugs, fabric of his shirt bunching around his collar.  

“A piece of cake?”  You can only imagine.

“Exactly.”

You nod thoughtfully, as if that means anything to you.  (It doesn’t.  You’re bare as a baby’s bottom, blemish free save for the occasional hellish pimple and the scar you have from surgery on your hand when you broke parts of it in sixth grade.)

If he can tell you’re talking out of your ass, he says nothing, redirecting your attention back to the iPad propped on his lap.  “Do any of these interest you?”  He’s resumed scrolling, swiping carefully through pages of flash.  There are assorted floral pieces (plum stems, lily stalks, fully bloomed mums) and various skeletons (what looks like a deer, a dragon, a wolf).  They’re mostly blackwork with fine lines and heavy contrast, so wonderfully detailed you spend too much time studying one piece before he’s flipping to the next.

“That one.”  It catches your eye more than the others have.  Likely because it’s one of the few pieces in colour, soft hues spilling over neat lines.  A pretty little cat with a braided collar, big golden bell centered beneath its head, unravelling petals sweeping around it.

“You like cats?”

You do.  “She looks like mine.”

“It’s settled.”  He beams then, rising so quickly you’re startled;  you watch as he moves around the space with decisive steps, putting your plan into motion.  A paper is pulled seemingly out of nowhere, laid on a wooden clipboard and offered with a blue ballpoint pen.  “If you can fill all of this out, I can get the stencil ready.”

Well, that was easy.  Somehow, you’d thought it’d be more complicated, a ton of back and forth and yes and no.  You can’t deny you’re nervous, staring down at the consent form.  

(It doesn’t mean you read it any more than you normally would, though.  You gloss over all the points, making note of what you’re agreeing to without really considering any of it.  You’ve wanted a tattoo for most of your life.  There’s really no going back now.)

(You just hope it turns out like you want - that you’re not just being blindsided by a sudden superficial crush and a lack of critical thought.)

“I think I’m done,”  you mumble, slashing the date into the paper with gusto.  

“Do you have your ID?”  You’ve got it ready for him when he returns to take both it and the form.  “I’m just going to make copies and then we can discuss more.”

He’s gone with that same smile, disappearing back the way you’d come. 

Alone, the nerves set in.  You’re actually doing this.  Getting a tattoo.  Putting something permanent on your body.  It’s exhilarating and terrifying all at once, shaking your hands in your lap.  Maybe you should’ve eaten more before you’d come.  (You’d woken up late - had only shoved two pieces of raisin pinwheel bread into your mouth before you’d made up your mind about this.) 

(But had you really made up your mind?  Was this going to be it?  It feels mostly like yes, though the repetitive thud of your toe against concrete seems to indicate otherwise.  It’s as if you’re tapping out something in morse, telling yourself—)

“Okay!”  Jungkook’s back before you know it, driver’s license returned to you along with an unsealed envelope.  You eye it curiously.  “A copy of your form and an aftercare sheet.”  

He’s really thought of everything.  Or the shop has.  Either way, you appreciate that when you’re not so sure, caught somewhere between giddily excited and vaguely worried, as if someone’s pulled a weight off your shoulders, taken on some of the burden of this spontaneous choice.

“So, where do you want it?”  It’s like he has a one track mind, utterly focused on the task at hand.  (Probably a good thing, given you’re about to voluntarily let him needle your poor skin.) 

You hadn’t thought about that.  You’d always liked the idea of a back of the arm tattoo, positioned somewhere along your tricep so it could be seen while turned away.  “My arm?”

“Upper?  Forearm?”  There’s not an ounce of annoyance or exasperation or anything else negative.  He’s just genuinely curious, peering over his shoulder at you. 

“Tricep area, I think?  Would that look good?”

“If you like it, it will.”  Then he grins - beams so bright you half expect the sun to come zooming out of his mouth - and laughs, a funny little cackle that makes you do the same.  “I’m kidding.  That was cheesy.  But I’m sure it’ll look fine.  We can try laying it down first, so you get an idea?” 

“That sounds good.”  A lot better than endless years of regret for poor placement. 

“You’ll, uh— need to take your shirt off though.”

It’s then you realise your mistake:  wearing a turtleneck.  “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat of silence passes, then another, and he smiles so kindly you wonder what your expression must look like.  Sour, like you’d sucked fresh lemon?  Awkward, as if you’d never worn anything less than double layers before (a proud Never Nude)? 

“If you’re uncomfortable, we can reschedule.  Or I can put a divider up so you don’t have to worry about being seen from outside.  Whatever you’d prefer.” 

The longer you stay quiet - a seemingly common occurrence today - the closer his brows furrow, preparations coming to a standstill.  You can tell he’s not trying to rush you, politely waiting for an answer with transfer paper in one hand and scissors in the other.  

(If only he could peek into your brain, see the whole reason you’re hesitating is because you can’t quite remember which bra you’re wearing, whether it’s the slinky black one that offers absolutely zero support or the lacy blue one with the cute detailing and practically see-through cups.)

(Did it really matter either way?  He was probably desensitized.)  

“It’s fine.”  You find the confidence somehow, nodding firmly.  Jungkook’s still studying you carefully, though.  Waiting as you strip your purse off your shoulder and reach for the hem of your sweater.  It feels funny in your fingers, more like steel wool than sheep’s.

One breath.  Two. 

You fold your turtleneck neatly, laying it beside your bag and turning back to face him.  “All right.  Let’s do this.” 

“So, which arm?”  He’s close now - crossed to you in two strides of his long legs - and holds up the stencil.  

Your right rises, fingers wiggling as if to say hello. 

He lays the design down, pats it into place with deft fingers.  You don’t realise the breath you’re holding until he pulls the sticky paper away, leaving neat line work in its wake.

“Oh.”  It slips out of its own accord, almost a whisper as you stare at the design in the mirror.  “It’s so pretty.” 

There’s pride in his eyes as he stares with you, bounces his gaze between it and your face.  “Thanks.”  He lets you linger, peering thoughtfully at your reflection before speaking, casually hopeful.  “What do you think?”

“This is it.  Right here.”

Maybe he’d fist pump, if he were any less cool.  As it stands, he simply nods, cheeks round like fresh baked bread, nose scrunched with glee. 

“All right.  We’ll shave you down and get started.  You like the colours, right?”  Once again, he’s buzzing around the room, gathering up all his materials and snapping black gloves on once everything is laid out upon his cart.  It’s heavily stickered, covered in video game vinyls and anime mattes.  (You recognise a handful of them, make a note to ask him where he got them from.)  He pats the tissue papered bed top when you make no movement toward him.  “Hop on up.  Face down, if that’s okay.”

You do as he says, climbing atop with minimal grace.  It takes you a bit of adjusting to get comfortable, folding your left arm under your head and allowing your right to simply dangle, uncertain of where it should be.  

“You’re sparkly.”

“What?”  You’d misheard that, right? 

“Your skin.  You’re sparkling.”  He sounds a little in awe, surprised as wetness spills across your arm, the edge of a razor following closely thereafter.  

“Oh.”  Heat creeps over your cheeks, slinks all the way up into your roots and has you chuckling awkwardly.  “It’s my soap.” 

“Sparkle soap?”  Whether he’s just making conversation or genuinely curious, you’re not sure.  He does seem delighted by the fact, though, as if he’s never seen a girl covered in glitter before.  (Which, fair.) 

“It’s this specialty holiday soap.  It has pigment in it.” 

“That’s cool.”  He’s laying the stencil down again, smoothing it over your now-hairless arm.  “It smells nice.”

Obviously, you agree.  It’s honey and citrus, brightly fragrant but not overpowering, lingering on your clothes like the subtle golden glitter does.  Still, you flush, heat crossing from a casual day under the sun to burning-on-the-stove hot.  “Thanks.” 

“Was that weird?  I hope not.”

“No, you’re fine.” 

He hums a tiny noise, something that sounds like understanding and appreciation all at once.  

Then the buzzing starts - a steady, inescapable brrrrrrrrr - and he’s gripping your arm, steady yet gentle.  “Ready?” 

Honestly, you’re not sure.  Hearing the noise makes it seem scary, has your entire body tensing up like Pavlov’s dog.  Your honesty can’t be helped, a nervous giggle chased off your tongue.  “I think so.” 

“I think so too.”

By the time you’re done - a good almost five hours later, your arm stinging so bad you wonder why you’d ever sat down in the first place - you’d fallen asleep twice, started drooling on your other arm once, and really, really have to pee. 

“All right—”“  The incessant buzzing stops.  Liquid spills where the pain centres, followed by rougher paper towel.  “You are finished.”

(You might be imagining it, but he sounds about as relieved as you.  Maybe because you’d been sitting for hours on hours, turning down his offer for a break because you just wanted to get it done and therefore forcing him to do the same.) 

“Can I see?”  You don’t want to leap to your feet - feel a bit too lightheaded for that - but you’re bouncing with excitement, the thrumming in your arm intensified when you shift to catch a better look at Jungkook’s face. 

“Yeah, go ahead.  Just be careful - you might be a bit—”

He’s right.  You nearly topple over the moment you stand, none-too-gently rolling off the edge of the bed and barely landing safely on your feet.  It’s only his close proximity that prevents you from falling to your knees, one degloved hand darting out to steady you. 

“Careful!”  It’s politely reproachful, coloured soft with worry.  

“Sorry, sorry.”  You seize the edge of the bed, gripping tight as you wait for everything to settle, the lightheadedness to recede.  Everything straightens out quickly enough.  “Got up too quickly.”

“Do you need a snack?”  He’s already up, moving faster than you, rummaging through the cabinet against the far wall.  “I’ve got seaweed and Choco Boys and shrimp chips and—”

You can’t help but laugh, hobbling to the mirror to inspect your new piece of art.  “I’m fine.”  That, and you’re too occupied with the ink that now sits embedded beneath your skin, a flurry of lovely colour and impressive line work.

“Choco Boys it is then.”  The familiar yellow package is thrust toward you, a pack of his own already ripped open.  Mushroom-shaped treats are tossed into his open mouth, lips curling around chocolate and his next words,  “it’ll help with your sugar levels.”

A thank you comes, fingers curling around the snacks, but you’re still in deep, so focused on the lovely hue that bleeds over your skin, marks up previously unblemished flesh and holds your attention.  It’s better than you could’ve possibly imagined, a piece of artwork forever yours.  It makes you giddy as you stare at it - almost reach for it, but stop when you catch the alarmed widening of Jungkook’s eyes.  

“You like?”  

“I love.”  You’d stare at it for hours, if you could.  Likely will, once you get home, sitting in front of the mirror like a zombie.  “Thank you so, so much.”

The brunet beams as he polishes off the last of his Choco Boys, tossing his dark hair back with a flick of his head.  Triumph rolls off him in palpable waves, sitting pretty in the lines by his eyes, the scrunching around his nose.  Seeing how it blooms in his stare is like a straight endorphin shot, as if you’ve done more than just be the canvas he’s laid all his hard work into.  “It was a pleasure.”

It’s a whole month later - enough time for the piece to heal - before you decide you want another one.  It’s not as spontaneous as the first time, instead led with an Instagram direct message to @jeonink.  (You half expect him not to answer;  you’re utterly delighted when he responds not five minutes later.) 

Maybe it’s fate or maybe it’s luck that has him with availability the same day you reach out, bringing you back to the studio three hours after you’ve messaged him.

He’s just as cute as before, black baseball cap pulled low over his ears, silver-lined ears twinkling beneath the shop lights.  

“So, what’re you thinking?”  

Truthfully, you hadn’t done much thinking.  Just like before, you’d decided you wanted a tattoo and, well, the rest had been history.  You figured you’d let him have free reign, given how happy you were with your first piece.  “A sleeve?”

That surprises him.  His whole face lights up, eyes wide, mouth rounding curiously.  “Like, a full sleeve?”  It’s not necessarily a no - more of an are you sure? he hides between the syllables.

“I think so.”

He nods slowly, knowingly, arms folded over his chest, expression suddenly unreadable.  “You caught the itch.”

Your own features twist, brows shooting high.  “The what?”

“The tattoo itch,”  he clarifies with a laugh, the sound sweeping your concern away like the sea.  “People say once you get one, you get addicted to the feeling.”  He’s extending both arms to you now, hands palm up.  For a moment, you’re note sure what he’s doing.  (In actuality, you’re distracted by the fact that he’s in a tee, muscle cording his limbs, undulating as he turns his arms over.)  “I got bit by it when I lived in Japan.  It’s actually what got me into tattooing myself.”

You remember what he’d said last time - how he’d spent a handful of years overseas, working in restaurants after having followed his last partner there.  He’d shared lots about his life, giving you the Sparknotes version while you’d ground enamel to fine dust.  

“I guess I have the itch then.”

“Guess you do.”  

Your dream comes to life in four excruciating sessions.  It’s some of the worst pain you’ve ever endured (you’re never going to get an elbow tattoo ever again) but you’d do it all again in a heartbeat, utterly in love with the mural that now lives on your skin.  A peony caps your shoulder while one runs halfway up your bicep.  Another takes up the entirety of your forearm.  There’s a darling little bird and delicately inked koi.  It’s breathtaking, greater than anything you could have dreamt up.  

You’ve been staring at it for at least three minutes now, tracing over the freshly laid colour with a tender touch.  You’re grateful for the SecondSkin, the clear bandage that wraps everything up and keeps it safe from your over eager hands.

“You did it.”  Jungkook’s grinning at you, feet kicked up where he sits, his usual bag of Choco Boys balanced in his lap.  “Big girl.”

From anyone else, it might sound condescending - might rub you the wrong way and have you glaring daggers.  Instead, you take it in stride, beaming at him from your seat.  He’s been there with you every step of the way, been there for every hour (seventeen over three months, to be exact) you’ve dedicated to finishing this beauty up.  Tease you as he might, you know he really is proud of you.  

“You mean we did it,”  you return, giddy like a child.  

“Ah, right.”  The chocolate-covered snack he’s devouring goes crunch crunch crunch before he speaks, mouth still full, eyes crinkled.  “I guess I did do all the work.”

“Hey!  Screw you!”  You’re glowering at him, middle finger raised in defiance.  

(How curious that your relationship has grown like this, turned from tattoo artist and client to what feels like more.  It probably makes sense, given the long hours you’ve spent together, the support he’s had to offer each time the pain has gotten this side of too much, chattering your teeth and dizzying your head.  Solidarity in pain and all that.)

(You really had tapped out once, when he’d crept his gun into the ditch of your elbow.  You’d asked him whether it’d hurt beforehand and he’d only laughed, shrugged off the question and continued with the careful shading to your inner arm.  That in itself had hurt like a biiitch;  you hadn’t thought it could get worse.)

(You’d been mistaken.)

“Am I wrong?”  He drawls, full of laughter and that big dumb smile of his you’ve grown accustomed to.  It eats up his cheeks and disappears his eyes, makes it hard to be mad at him when he looks so sweet.  

“Yes, you are.”  You’ve got absolutely nothing to back it up, but who cares.  This is the sort of banter the two of you have developed, like two old friends forced to spend too much time together.  (Not that you’d complain.  You’ve loved hearing his stories, all the tales he regales you with whenever you’re in his chair.)

A snort is his answer, the full roll of his eyes over-exaggerated and playful.  “You’re lucky we’re all finished or I’d sneak in an ugly fish somewhere on your arm.”

You think he’s kidding - know he takes too much pride in his work to do that.

Still, you stick your tongue out, hopping down from the bed with your freshly inked arm, hands clapping together in celebration.  “You wouldn’t dare.”  You’re confident, crossing to the bench to tug your flannel on, careful of the dull pain that throbs beneath the thin medical dressing.  

“Wouldn’t I?  I’m leaving anyway.”

You’re ready to call him out for it, insist he would never ruin the sanctity of his profession in such a way, when you realise the words he’s spoken, the casual tidbit he’s just dropped like it’s nothing.

“Leaving?”  

(Is it you or do you sound disappointed?  You can’t dwell on it for long, worried you’ll miss his explanation.  Had he mentioned it previously?  Slipped it in when you’d been delirious from pain?  No, you would’ve remembered that.  You swear you would’ve.)

“I’m moving to Tokyo.”  How he’s so casual, you have absolutely no idea.  You suppose it’s not a big deal for him - he’s not from here anyway.  Home is back in Korea, the place he’d spent most of his life before moving to Japan and then here, just two years ago.  (God, your memory is good.  If only you’d retained knowledge like this when you were in school.)  “My flight’s next weekend.”

Your face must be hilarious because Jungkook’s laughing, cackling like the evil villain in an anime.  

“Gonna miss me?”  

Would it be inappropriate to say yes?  Because you will, you realise the moment he’s posed the question.  You’ve grown to consider him a friend, someone who you send random memes to on Instagram (usually pertaining to #tattooartistproblems or one of your shared hobbies, like video games and finding the best noodle soup restaurant in the city).  

You go for the safe bet, answering with a question of your own.  “Are you gonna miss me?”

“I’ll miss your restaurant recs,”  he answers, offering honesty to your reticence.  “You can still send me funny photos though.”  

You can’t help your laugh, the tiny quirk of your mouth into a smile.  “I guess you’re right.  Will you still be tattooing?”  It’s an innocent enough question - you really do want to know.  You can’t imagine going to anyone else, even if it means you’ll be shelling out an absurd amount of money for a plane ticket.

“Yep, new shop.”  Something twinkles in his stare, has him giddy as he rises to his feet, tossing his empty packet of snacks into the trash bin.  “Actually, where I got most of mine done.”  You understand it then - that it’s a move of faith.  He’s finally come full circle.  You’re unbelievably happy for him, brimming with delight to mirror his pride.  

But you’re still going to give him a little bit of a hard time because you have to.  It wouldn’t feel right otherwise.  “Whoa, big shot.”

“I am actually,”  he sniffs, raking an ink-strewn hand through his hair.  It’s longer now than it was when you met him, curling over the tops of his ears, hanging in his eyes at every turn.  “You’ll be lucky if I remember you when I’m famous.”

“Famously lame, maybe,”  you tease, slipping your bag over your shoulder.  You busy yourself pulling your keys from the interior pocket, checking your phone as if you’re ready to go.  It’s only when you’re standing in the hallway - you have no real intention of departing like this and he knows that, considering you haven’t paid yet - when you level him with a half-formed smirk.  “But I guess I should take you for a drink?”  

His hoodie is on before you know it, yanked over his head and tugged into place as he joins you.  It’s become your regular routine - leaving together after your sessions, a perk of always booking the last slot he has available.  (Not that you relied on that, but simply because your work schedule didn’t really allow for anything else.)  “Obviously.”

Jeon Jungkook is a talented artist, a dedicated snacker, a lover of the colour black.  You discover, sitting on the patio of the nearby bar, that he’s also really, really good at holding his liquor.  

(Not that he’d ever indicated otherwise.)

“Do you think you’ll get anything else done?”  He’s on his sixth pint, casually leaned back in his chair as he picks at the fries you’d ordered but that he seems perfectly happy to help himself to.  (Payback for all the times he’s forced snacks on you maybe?)  “Like, a face tattoo?”

You scoff at the question as if greatly offended.  “You think I’d get a face tattoo?”  

While a little glazed in the eyes, you can tell he’s altogether coherent, grinning across the table at you.  “Hey, I don’t judge.  You like making surprise decisions, so I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Okay, so he’s got you there.  Used your own impulsive history against you.  “I would never.”  

“If you change your mind, do I get first dibs?”

“Dibs on what?  Tattooing me?”

He nods as if it’s the most obvious answer in the world.  “Duh.”

You can only roll your eyes, tossing a wayward burnt fry end at him.  “Yes, Kook, you get first dibs on ruining my face.”

His expression twists, mouth shaping around words he’s keeping caged behind his teeth.  There’s something he isn’t saying, a comeback he’s chosen to lock up.  You wonder what it is.

“Hey - nothing wrong with face tattoos.”  

“Really?”  You’re leaning forward, a clear challenge written across your face.  “Then why don’t you have one?”  He has a million others as it is:  a hand, nearly the entirety of both arms, his chest, his shoulders, one of his legs.  (You haven’t seen them all in person but you have seen them online, memorialised on his Instagram feed.)  

“And hide all this?”  One inked hand is gesturing toward his own face, gesticulating wildly as if that’ll drive his point further home.  “I would never.”

“That’s what I said!”

It doesn’t matter to him, not when he’s fully sober and most certainly not now, when he’s slightly buzzed, eyes glossier than usual.  “But I’m cuter.  It’d be a shame if it were me.  You…”  The way he trails off is suggestive, indicative of something mocking and mean.  (Except it’s never cruel - far too friendly and soft to ever hurt your feelings.)  “—not so much.”

Another fry hits him right between the eyes and then another disappears into the hood of his sweater, lost to the black fabric that bunches up around his neck and hides the flush he’s been battling since you two got to the bar an hour ago.

“Don’t be rude!”  

He beams at you then, so unnecessarily endearing you can only throw one more piece at him. 

“I’m kidding.”  You knew that already but pretend to ignore the pseudo-apology, choosing instead to polish off the last of your now-cold fries.  A bad choice, you realise when he continues, surprising you with the words that come out of his liquor-laden mouth so much so that you almost choke.  “You’re actually pretty cute.”

(So what if you’ve sort of maybe been waiting to hear them?  Wondering if the tiny crush you’d developed was in some way reciprocated?)

(Not that this meant it was.  Only that you perhaps weren’t alone in thinking he was the most lovable - and somehow simultaneously hot - person you’d ever met.  It’s almost rewarding to know the long hours together hadn’t left him unscathed.)

“You all good?”  The look on his face is worse than that smile he usually offers, instead a devilish smirk that makes him look like Satan himself.  

Were you?  You’re not sure.

“I can’t believe you just said that.”

“Really?  You can’t?”  You’re not sure what that means, whether you’re simply reading too far into it.  But then he’s dragging his bottom lip through his teeth, head cocked curiously.  It’s a bait, you realise—and one you’ll gladly take.

“Should I have expected it?”

Shoulders hike, rising up around his ears.  “I thought I made it sort of obvious.”  

Had he?  Thinking back on it, you can’t really recall.  Of course, he’d always been friendly, indulging you in your pursuit of body art, sketching up the loveliest things you’d never even think to dream of;  accepting your distracting Instagram messages without complaint, always tossing you a like or some sort of acknowledgement no matter what you’d send (and you’d send some random, random stuff).  Chatting with him daily had just become the norm, conversation flowing freely whenever you’d pop in for your next session.

But that was just because he was a nice guy - or so you’d thought.  You realise now how wrong you’d been, too occupied with your own crush to notice his (if it could be called that).

“You like me,”  you hum, surprisingly nonchalant despite the little pitter patter in your chest, the flutter of your heart within your ribcage.  

“I think you’re cute,”  he retorts, though there’s no real weight to his rebuff.  The two statements are really one and the same and you’re giddy with the knowledge, absolutely tickled pink.

Except for the fact that he’s leaving, fully prepared to start a new life in another city in just one week.  The irony isn’t lost on you, like fate’s laughing even as she offers you this little crumb.  (You feel like Oliver Twist, frankly.)

“Same difference.”

He huffs - you’re reminded of how adorable he is when he does that - and downs the lukewarm remainder of his beer.  “I take it back.”

“No, you don’t.”  Where the confidence comes from, who knows.  You grip it tight with both hands though, hold it snugly as you level him with a stare that has his own unwavering.  It’s almost as if you’re caught in a staring match, a battle of unspoken wits. 

It drags on longer than it should, just the two of you locked to each other with nowhere to go. 

Then he does the last thing you expect:  shoves his chair aside and leans across the table, stealing a kiss and returning to his seat, all in the span of time it takes you to blink.  

(His lips are so soft.  A little chapped, a tiny bit dry, but soft - deceptively delicate.  Bitter, touched with sea salt and something else distinctly him.  French fries and beer and his Chapstick.) 

(For the briefest moment, you wonder whether you’d just imagined it - if your imagination had truly gotten the best of you and you’ve absolutely lost your mind.) 

“You just kissed me.”  It seems like you’ve found your new favourite hobby of just repeating things, giving live play-by-plays like an awkward narrator in a romcom.  

“Yeah, so?”

“You’re leaving.”  Speaking the words into existence feels bad;  you see the way his eyes tighten, the subtle sobering of his expression even while he tries to keep his cool.  

“I am.”  At least he’s realistic.  It saves you from any uncertainty, keeping the what-ifs at bay. 

You suppose it means you have nothing to lose. 

“Do it again.”

And Jungkook does - over and over, sinking the taste of him almost as deeply as ink, offering a piece of himself you want to keep for just as long.  

It takes you longer to add to your collection of art, nearly four whole years before you decide what you want next.  (It’s a back piece this time - a full body suit from your shoulders down past your ass.  Another cat, dressed in traditional Japanese clothing and surrounded by flowers.  An ode to your first tattoo, to the one that had started it all.)

(You’re not sure you’re ready for the pain, though.)

“Lay down,”  the artist instructs, back turned to you, busy preparing his materials.  You’d stripped down while he was occupied, discarded all your clothes to the allocated basket and stood quietly in anticipation. 

You do as he says, dropping atop the tattoo bed with a quiet oof.  The stencil has already been laid, the entire outline ready to be inked into your skin.  You can’t deny you’re more than a little nervous.  It’s been years since you’d last gotten anything done, uninterested in finding a new artist since Jungkook had left. 

(Which he had, exactly as he’d intended, gone on a 6 AM flight that you’d driven him to, teary-eyed and embarrassed.  He’d laughed at you standing outside of the departure gate, his suitcase at his side, arms wrapped around your shoulders.  You’d refused to show your face, burying it instead into the warmth of his neck, into the familiar scent of him that was going away for who knows how long.

“Stop being a baby,”  he’d said, smothering you in kisses, the full weight of his laughter palpable through your close proximity.  It'd rumbled out of his chest all the way into yours, finding a home behind your ribcage, right alongside where your heart fluttered, shaded blue and sad.

“Stop being mean,”  you’d countered, petulant like a child.

It couldn’t be helped.  You’d had only one week with him - one glorious, chaotic week filled with eating too much junk, rewatching your favourite animes, and generally making up for all the lost time you’d never even known there was.  As amazing as it’d been, it still hadn’t prepared you for the goodbye.

That was your fault, though.  You’d wrongly entertained the idea that maybe things would work out, that he’d change his mind or ask to take it - whatever you had, that is - with him, keep it going somehow.  He hadn’t.)

“Do you have a preference where I start?”  You’re unbothered, hair loosely knotted over your shoulder.  Ready for the session to start - ready to feel the familiar sting again.  (You’re proud of that.  It might have taken you years and years but here you were, tackling something huge.)

“Nope.”  

“Sounds good.”

The buzzing begins and pressure lands upon the small of your back, a gloved hand laid over the centre of your spine.  You remind yourself to breathe in, out, focus on something other than the pain that fizzles over your skin and then ebbs into tenderness.  Where he’s started - just above the fattiest part of your butt - isn’t too bad.  Tolerable and yielding.

You can do this.

Your back aches in a different way than you’d anticipated, soreness buzzing beneath inflamed skin and making it uncomfortable to move around.  It’s not any worse than your arm had been - the lines along your spine had felt comparable to that of your elbow - but it’s fresh, not dulled by years like your sleeve now was.

The artist is stripping his gloves off, your back neatly covered and the bed stripped of its original tissue paper.  He’s leaned against the sink, onigiri held in his now-free hands, nibbling at the edge of the rice ball as you turn this way and that in the mirror.  “You did good.”

You’re still undressed, admiring the linework from different angles, shimmying closer to your reflection to catch the lighter inking that makes up the undefined edges of the various florals.  Something tells you that you should be shy - eager to redress after spending nearly five hours naked in the secluded studio - but you don’t care.  Your back is quickly becoming a masterpiece, something that might as well be hung in the halls of the Louvre.  You’re in love with it.

“Thanks.”

You mean thank you for his compliment but also for all his hard work, the long hours he’s put into bringing this beauty to life.  It means so much - like progressing to the next level.  

Which, you suppose it is.  This is a fresh start for you.  A new beginning in a new city.  

“Proud of you,”  he hums, suddenly close, broad palms searing heat over your hips.  He’s careful to avoid the edge of the bandage that wraps your back and holds you delicately, like fine china or the most precious jewel in the world, lips sweet against your temple.  

You meet his eyes in the mirror - the same sweet doe-eyed stare from five years ago.  A little darker now, aged by the hand of time but endlessly kind, shining beneath the overhead lights.

“Proud of you,”  you chirp, identical smiles spreading over your faces.  

Jungkook’s having none of it though, bratty as usual.  “Proud of us.”

You suppose you can settle for that.  You really are proud of the two of you - for how far you’ve made it and all the obstacles you’ve overcome.  From the first few weeks of sadness, all the melancholy that’d set in when he’d left, to exactly one month after, when he’d called you in the middle of the night, drunk and stumbling home.  

(It’d been infuriating at the time - incoherent and foolish as he was - but it’d bloomed something between you, something neither of you could ignore.)

Four years of miserable long distance had become this:  a love that's brought you back to his side, to a city you’re unfamiliar with but that he calls home; to a city that never sleeps, loud with pachinko machines and some of the best food you’ve ever had;  to the place you’ve been missing every minute you were apart.  

You’d never thought you would move for someone, uproot your entire life for a relationship, but he’d changed that.  Made it worth it in ways you had never considered.  Convinced you more and more with each trip you’d taken, two visits twice a year, for a measly two weeks at a time.

“Should we head home?”  He means your physical home - the apartment the two of you had decided on in Roppongi, the one you haven’t seen yet, that he’s had to move into all by himself.  It’s not quite as nice as the home in his arms.  

You say yes anyway.

“I’m so talented.”  The words come entirely too whole for your liking, loud somewhere above your head.

“Are you serious?”  You’re levelling your boyfriend with the most incredulous look, whole face scrunched up, hands fisted into his dark sheets.  It’s uncomfortable at this angle - kinking your neck as you look over your shoulder - but you really can’t believe he’s just said that.  He’s knelt between your legs, knees spread wide around his own, his hand halfway up your back and tracking heat over your spine.  

Somehow, he has the audacity to look surprised.  “What?”

“You’re really patting yourself on the back right now?”  Now, when he should be pounding you into oblivion, working that big fat cock of his through your fluttering walls, making you moan his name into his pillows like it’s his only job? 

(It truthfully could be.  You’d rank his skills in the bedroom on par with his skills in the studio.)

“Oh.”  All at once, he’s the devil - sin personified. Or would be, if he didn’t somehow still look infuriatingly cute.

The gentle touch turns bruising, heel of his palm pressed hard into the tender notches of your spine.  “You don’t like when I admire my own work?”  Asked as he shifts behind you, length dragging out of your dripping cunt to gently tap against your aching clit.  The head of it glides through your folds, mercilessly teasing but never slipping back in, never filling you whole like you need.  (Because you really do need it.  You haven’t seen him in six months, left to your own devices - literally.)  It feels like heaven and hell, too good and not nearly enough all at once. 

“Kook,”  you snap. Try to, anyway, his name far too whiny and breathless to hold any real weight.

“I’m just admiring you, sweetheart.”  He’s dragging the hand over your back, tracing all the lines he’s embedded into your skin.  They make up his favourite piece, inked permanently into his favourite canvas.  A testament to his hard work, his dedication, his love.

Any other time, you might not care.  Here and now, after not having felt his touch in what feels like forever, you’re burning from the inside out, a million volts of electricity tripping your circuits.  When you speak, it’s more a plea than a reprimand, uttered so sweetly you know he can’t deny you. “Admire me later.”  

“I’ve missed you” is his only answer, punctuated by a fluid roll of his hips, the heavy press of his cock back into your dripping cunt.  “I’ve missed this,”  he breathes out, sinking all the way in, so slow you can feel every ridge and vein as he fills you.  

“Missed you too,”  you parrot back, a little delirious now that you’ve gotten what you want.  

Now that he’s right where he should be - with you.

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice​​​ @youwannabelostandnotbefound​​​ @snackhobi​​​​ @codeinebelle​ @xjoonchildx​

#goldenclosetnet #magicshopnet #ficswithluv #thebtswritersclub #networkbangtan #heartsforbts #bts #bts au #bts imagine #bts fic #bts oneshot #bts smut #bts fluff #bts jungkook #jeon jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook oneshot #jungkook fluff #jungkook x you #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #work.zip #oneshot.zip #jungkook.doc #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut

[notchesandbullets]

Vintage Books and Midnight Promises (Tattooed!Bakugou x Bookworm!Reader) Modern!AU

Warnings: none, just fluff. features Child!Eijirou, Child!Izuku and brief Dadzawa at the end

Synopsis: Your days are brightened by the appearance of Eijirou and Izuku but you don’t recognize the tattooed man who accompanied the two children into your bookshop one day. But he finds his way into your heart and before you can stop it, you’re already in too deep for the man with tattoos that rippled like the purest form of water and smelled like blueberries hand-picked on the warmest day.

Inspired by: @all1e23 ‘s series “Astrophile” (this is one of my favorite comfort fanfics, i highly recommend it)

Words: 9.8k

It was a beautiful, sunny day.

Steam coming from a hot cup of coffee curled in the air and you sighed as you set down the porcelain teacup that had been a gift from your grandmother on the front desk, sinking deeper into the velvety cushion of your seat as you basked in the tranquility of the empty store before the bell on the door would inevitably ring again.

The musty yet homey scent of secondhand books clung to the worn pages in all the stories of mystery, fantasy and nonfiction that filled the old and rickety oak shelving you had bought at an auction five years ago.

The cornershop sat at the end of a particularly quaint neighborhood in the small town you lived in and you couldn’t imagine anything else more relaxing other than grabbing a cup of coffee from the loft upstairs and curling up with a good book until store hours were over.

You got a steady stream of regulars and occasionally a few new faces here and there that ended up coming back quite frequently. You hoped that had something to do with the notion that they liked to read, since that’s all you could really hold a conversation about.

The latest thriller that was published or that underrated author that never seemed to get enough attention in your opinion, even though their work was such a delight for you to read, whatever it was, you could talk about books for hours.

Maybe that’s why it was so hard to act normal around those vastly more social than you.

Ever since you could remember, you had your nose buried in a book, bumping into street lamps and crashing into people as you failed to look up for even a second to see where you were going.

People never seemed to quite understand you, why you preferred the company of books over people, but you didn’t need them to understand. Books were all you had and you liked to keep it that way.

Books were consistent and there would always be more literature to read.

Luckily, it was a weekday so business was pretty slow and in just another hour, you would be free to finish up repainting the storefront.

But first, you needed to conclude this book. You were so close to the ending and the author had been stringing you along on a thread of hope that the protagonist was going to make it out and save the day, you were on the edge of your seat!!

Your eyes flitted across the pages at a speed too fast for human eyes to comprehend and you were so engrossed in the book that you didn’t notice the shadow that passed by outside.

You jumped as the door to your little bookshop flew open with a bang, losing your balance from where you had been perched on your favorite stool and crashed to the floor.

Sitting up with a groan of pain, you rubbed your now sore bottom and winced. “Ow…”

You hadn’t anticipated someone coming and wreaking havoc on your little shop. It was a good thing you had a good memory and had marked the page you left off of in your head or else that customer that had so rudely barged in would be getting more than just some curt words from you.

“Sorry.” A curt and gruff apology came from over the counter and your mouth pressed in a hard line as you got to your feet.

“Is everything alright?” You asked slowly, brushing the dust off of your clothes and making eye contact with the stranger for the first time.

In front of you was some punk who had incredibly intricate tattoos visible on his arms.

You eyed him up and down. He was pretty tall. Okay, correct that, he towered a good head over you, but what was the most intimidating was that scowl on his face that looked like it was permanently glued there for some reason.

His shoulders were broad and even under that sleeveless tank he was wearing, his muscles rippled and you rolled your eyes.

So he was one of those.

But you stopped a bit of ink twining up his neck and cocked an eyebrow at the prospect of him having more underneath his clothes.

You didn’t react despite where your mind just went, internally screaming at yourself to get a grip.

Guys like him didn’t randomly walk into a bookshop like yours. You had half a mind to call the police, thinking he was about to loot your store, but hesitated because he hadn’t done anything and it was wrong to judge someone you didn’t know under stereotypes that were groomed into you from a young age.

Not to mention, if he actually was going to rob you for whatever reason, he wouldn't have announced his presence like that.

Unless he was an idiot. Either one was equally possible at the moment while you waited for him to say something. Anything.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” He said shortly after a pause, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly and your stance softened a bit when you noticed how uncomfortable he looked. You could understand that feeling.

Plastering a smile on your face, you leaned back and shrugged, accepting what you suspected to be his version of an apology. “It’s okay, it was an accident.”

“Miss Y/N!!! Miss Y/N!!! Down here!!!”

“We’re down here!!!”

The small, childish chorus had your eyes brightening up in an instant as you recognized the voices and you were racing out from behind the counter within a second.

“Eijirou, Izuku!!” You knelt down to hug both of the toddlers tightly. “I didn't know you two were coming today!!”

They normally came on the weekends with their dad, it was so rare to see them on a weekday, with a new face nonetheless.

Eijirou’s shiny red eyes blinked up at you and he beamed brightly while Izuku shuffled his feet self-consciously, sniffling as he clutched his All Might plushie tight to his chest.

You cooed, lifting his chin sweetly to wipe away the tears. “What's wrong, Izuku?”

He sniffled, hugging his comfort plushie tighter as he pointed up to the scowling man that had accompanied them. “He… He’s mean.”

The ash-blond’s forehead creased in annoyance as you sent him a questioning look. “Shut your mouth, you fucking brat!!”

You covered Eijirou and Izuku’s ears, glaring at him. He matched it in intensity and it wasn’t until you saw how he wasn’t going to back down that you sighed, breaking off eye contact and conceding as you caught the tears streaming down Izuku’s round cheeks.

“Yeah, he’s big and scary, let’s leave him here, okay?” You said to the little boy, pretending not to notice the punk’s glare following the two of you as you led the now cheered up Izuku over to the back of the store.

Every time they came, you made sure to have the children’s area brushed up for them. The floor to ceiling windows in that one corner in the back had deep purple curtains drawn open during the day, shining light directly on the soft leather sofa that belonged to your family.

The perfect place to read.

A tug on the man’s hand had him looking down.

“Bakugou!!” The red-haired toddler shouted excitedly, frantically pulling him to where you were at only to run out of breath from his efforts as the man didn’t budge. “I want to go too!!”

“You’re staying here where I can see you, Shitty Hair.” Bakugou grumbled, running an exasperated hand through his spiky hair as he waited for the other brat to come back so that they could leave.

“You can come with!!” Eijirou begged, still trying to convince the stubborn man who was their guardian for the time being while their dad was busy. He huffed and puffed but still he didn’t move an inch.

He snorted haughtily, his grip tightening on the brat’s when he switched tactics and tried to pry off the hand that was holding his. “Like hell I would.”

Eijirou’s lower lip wobbled dangerously as he stopped fighting. “But you promised!!”

Bakugou inwardly groaned and looked away from the toddler. Tears from the brats were his fucking weakness and he hated it. But he still wasn’t going to let him.

The only reason why he agreed to take them here in the first place was because they wouldn’t shut up, begging for him to take them to the bookstore that they visited every week with their dad over and over again, promising that they wouldn’t ask for anything else the whole rest of the day.

They just wanted to see you.

Bakugou only agreed because they crossed their hearts that they would be quiet if he took them and if they didn’t make good on their word, then he would blow them up.

But what he didn’t mention was that he was a little intrigued by the girl that they talked about excitedly all the way there.

Tch, shitty brats. Fucking annoying.

Eijirou never cared about his threats when he declared that he would blow them up, going so far as to smile brightly in his face, completely unaffected while that shitty nerd’s face went ashen and lost all its color as he cowered behind his brother to avoid the scary man that towered over them.

Izuku lacked the spine that Eijirou had.

Bakugou pushed off the counter that he was leaning against as you came back into view with a happy Izuku in tow.

Eijirou visibly deflated and tears welled up at the corners of his eyes. “You’re all done? B-But I wanted to pick some out too!!”

You hushed him softly as you saw how close he was to sobbing, crouching down to his level and ruffled his hair. “You can choose what you want too, Eiji.”

His whole face lit up. “Really?!”

“Of course!!” You reassured with a smile, the edges of your eyes crinkling as you stood up and offered him your other hand that wasn’t joined with Izuku’s. But after Izuku swung your hand, you took that as your cue to let go. “Come on!!”

This time, Bakugou wasn’t fast enough to intervene as Eijirou took your hand and zoomed off with you trailing behind him, practically dragging you behind him as he took on the personality of a race car. He gritted his teeth in annoyance, wanting nothing more than to leave this place that had absolutely no business with and he clenched his hands into fists, storming over to where the two of you ran off to with full intention of grabbing the shitty brat and exiting with nothing more than a word.

But he faltered at the sound of your laughter bouncing off the bookshelves and unconsciously retracted his hand as he turned the corner.

To be honest, he didn’t know what made him stop. But seeing you there, with Eijirou tuckered out in your lap as you read him a book, Izuku bounding past him just to cuddle up on your other side was making him soft.

Fuck emotions. He hated having a heart.

You were seated on a huge, tan leather sofa that looked worn with age and was packed with brightly-colored pillows that looked much softer than he wanted to admit as he found himself drifting towards the three of you.

Truth be told, he only took them here because they were begging for either this or the zoo and he could not fucking stand the zoo.

What the fuck was so interesting about animals locked in a pen?

“Get up brats, we’re leaving.” Bakugou barked, glaring pointedly at the fucking brats when they cracked their eyes open as you stopped reading.

A chorus of whines and protests followed by some very pouty begging made you crack a smile at his unchanging demeanor.

“You know~” You sang, holding back a giggle at the suspicious look the man shot you as you shut the children’s book you were reading in favor of glancing at the two kids out of the corner of your eye. “I do have a ton of pizza that needs to be finished today. I don't suppose there's anyone out there that can help me with such a big task.”

Izuku and Eijirou shrieked in delight, bouncing up and down on the sofa, alternating between screaming yes and pleading for him to let them stay.

Bakugou, on the other hand, was fucking irritated as hell.

You were trying to bribe him with pizza? How un-fucking-believable. You were worse than the two troublemakers shrieking so loud, it felt like his head was going to split. He didn’t believe what he just heard. But was it working?

Yup.

Because your sundress flared around your knees as you crossed your legs to accommodate both the boys. The tresses of your hair fell around your face so softly he vaguely wondered if it was even possible for someone to look so innocent while conducting a pizza scheme.

Izuku scratched his head cutely as he yawned widely, exhausted from all the hopping he just did as Eijirou began to jump up and down around you, his endless energy coming off of him in waves.

“We can help!!!” He cried, tugging Izuku upright and the little boy stumbled, landing on his rear on the couch with an ‘oof’.

But he didn't cry. Instead, he tilted his head curiously and blinked. “We can?”

“Yes!!” Eijirou insisted. He wanted pizza. He loved pizza. And Bakugou never treated them to it whenever he watched them, he said it would make them fat. “Please Bakugou!!!”

You raised an eyebrow as you heard the punk’s name for the first time. It sounded fitting for such a stoic and emotionless person that he was portraying at the moment as he crossed his arms over his chest and glared at the red-haired toddler.

Bakugou rolled his eyes. “What did I tell you about referring to your elders, Shitty Hair?”

“Ahh!!” You blurted out, sending him a sharp look that was meant to reprimand him. “Don't swear in front of them!!”

Bakugou glared at you uncaringly and you matched it, throwing in a pout for good measure.

You had no idea what was giving you all this confidence now. You had never been this comfortable interacting with a stranger. You blamed it on the children. They were far too familiar.

The moment of silence as you glared at each other was broken when both of the boys jumped down from the sofa at the same time.

Weird.

“Ahh, don’t go too far!!” You called out after them as you sprang up. “And don’t leave the store!!”

“M’kay!!!” Eijirou shouted back as he tugged Izuku, who was struggling to catch up, behind him. “Can I flip the sign, Miss Y/N?”

You giggled, hiding a grin from Bakugou as you nodded even though they couldn’t see. “Yes, just be careful and don’t go outside!!”

As he yelled that he knew back at you, you moved into a better light so that that one bookshelf wasn’t blocking your view of them so you could see them. Once you were in direct line of sight, your smile softened as you saw Eijirou lift Izuku up so that he could reach the sign and flip it around to show that you were closed for the day.

“They’re so sweet to each other.” You murmured to yourself.

The closeness of Bakugou’s scoff had you jumping back in surprise and you winced as your back crashed into the bookshelf behind you.

“Geez, I was going to say hell no.” Bakugou started as he chortled, smirking at you as you collected yourself. “But you’re even more of a klutz than that shitty nerd is.”

Brushing down your skirt, you coughed a couple times to cover up your blush of embarrassment. “I am not.”

“Uh, yeah you are.”

“Oh hush.” You snapped at him as the boys came bounding back, Izuku proudly holding up another book he wanted you to read for him that he found on the way back.

You giggled and ruffled his hair affectionately before asking if they’d like to continue reading here or up in the loft, to which they both sprinted to the stairs.

Well, that answered that question.

You sent a smile over your shoulder, inviting the grumpy man to follow you. “You coming or what?”

Bakugou hid a smirk as you turned back around and followed the hyperactive kids up the stairs.

You sure were interesting, he’d give you that.

And that night, the four of you fell asleep in the loft, with four boxes of cheese, pepperoni and half-eaten vegetarian pizzas surrounding you as Izuku curled up beside you and Eijirou snored on top of Bakugou’s head.

You were very happy to see that it wasn’t the last time you saw the forever annoyed man who had barged into your store.

It had been a month since that day. And since then, Bakugou had become a regular face and you dreaded how you subconsciously looked forward to when he would show up randomly.

One time, he had popped in your store just to grunt out a greeting and toss a bag at you, demanding that you eat it or else he would fucking kill you, before leaving.

Opening it up, you saw the freshly-baked blueberry muffin inside. And when you bit into it, it was delicious.

The only thing that confused you was that there was no good bakery around here, so you had absolutely no idea where he got it from.

Today, another weekday, they came again all bright smiles and sunshine and you bolted off your stool, abandoning your freshly-brewed coffee to greet them before they could even step into the bookstore.

There were still a few hours of daylight until closing time and you had some more things to finish up.

Bakugou leaned against the wall as you rearranged the display on the top shelf. The ever energetic Izuku and Eijirou had sped over to their corner the second they ran into the store, greeting you over their shoulder as the two boys tunneled past you.

You had pouted but let them go have their fun since tonight would be another night of pizza and soft drinks while you read them their favorite books.

Last time, Eijirou came to you with a stack of at least fifteen and you nearly had a laughing fit when one of them was a little too high for his age group.

He could read all those young adult novels with glorious battles featuring knights and dragons when his vocabulary increased a bit more.

A green-haired boy with freckles toddled up to you with his counterpart and buddy in crime nowhere to be seen.

Giggling, you approved the ones that Izuku held up to you with wide eyes blinking slowly.

“I’ll read it for you a little later, yeah?” You said, patting his head.

“Okay!!”

You flailed for a second as you lost your balance, the little boy disappearing from sight once again before he could realize you were off kilter due to the speed that he zipped at but a pair of strong hands settled on your waist to steady you.

Lips parting in surprise, you turned around to see Bakugou’s trademark sneer as he stared up at you.

“Dumbass.”

“Hey!!” You protested, all gratitude gone, and your lips pursed in a firm line as you disputed his claim.

But you were startled at the rough rumble that emitted from his chest and it took you a second to realize that he was laughing. At your expense, but still, it warmed your heart to hear.

“Well, look at that.” You teased. “He’s not so cold after all.”

“Tch.” Bakugou’s amusement faded as he glared at you for that but you just brushed it off.

You turned your attention back to the top shelf but misjudged the distance as you stretched out your hand. Yelping as one of the stool legs gave out, you careened to the side and squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the impact.

But your eyes shot open as you didn’t hit the ground like you expected. Instead, you landed on something softer than the hardwood floor.

When a pained groan sounded underneath you, you scrambled upright.

“Oh my gosh!! I’m so sorry!!!”

Bakugou had somehow cushioned your fall, making you land on him rather than crash to the ground.

Your cheeks flamed when you realized you were straddling his waist, hands splayed on his chest and you squeaked when he caught you staring.

“Oi, are you going to fucking stare at me all day?” Bakugou snarked and you huffed, clambering off of him clumsily.

It was a good thing you weren’t wearing a dress today. That would’ve been so embarrassing.

“I’m really sorry.” You apologized again, sheepishly tucking your hair behind your ear as you tried to appear less frazzled than you felt as he picked himself up from the floor.

Before he could say anything, though it was probably something not very nice, Izuku ran around the corner with Eijirou hot on his heels.

“Miss Y/N!!!” Izuku called out breathlessly, his chubby cheeks flushed pink from running so fast. “Miss Y/N!!! I have a secret to tell you!!”

“Izuku, I want to tell her!!!” Eijirou complained with a small pout.

“No, I want to!!!” He pushed back fiercely before he turned to you with bright forest green eyes and beamed. “Miss Y/N—”

“Bakugou has a crush on you!!!!” Eijirou interrupted, dancing in circles around you and out of Bakugou’s reach as the man swiped at him.

Bakugou snarled as the toddler screeched and dived in between his legs to escape him. “Get back here, you fucking brat!!!!”

Izuku tugged on your pant leg, tears brimming in his eyes as his lower lip trembled. “M-Miss Y/N…”

Your giggles died down as Bakugou continued to chase Eijirou and you smiled reassuringly, bending down to pick him up.

“Aww, it’s okay, Izuku.” You reassured with a chirpy smile. “If you want, we can just pretend you told me, yeah?”

He smiled and kicked his feet happily, giggling as he waved his All Might plushie back and forth.

“Do we get to stay tonight too?”

“Yup!!” You beamed, hoisting him higher as you collected the book that you needed to put away and balance it on your head so that you could hold the toddler with two hands. “I already checked it with your dad and he said it was okay!!”

Aizawa had sounded stressed when you called him but that was to be expected. His line of work was tough but he had quickly agreed to it. He had interacted with you enough to know that you looked out for them almost as much as he did.

Besides, in the small town, word got around fast. If there was dirt on you, he would’ve heard about it by now.

Izuku tugged on your braid innocently to catch your attention. “Can we leave him downstairs when you read to us?”

You giggled and booped his nose, watching it scrunch up cutely. You already knew he was talking about Bakugou. “Why do you want him to stay downstairs?”

Izuku pouted. “Because he snores too loud.”

“Hah?! Say it to my face, Deku!!!” Bakugou’s yell echoed from somewhere on the other side of the store and you slapped a hand over your mouth to stop yourself from bursting out laughing.

“C’mon,” You said softly, bouncing Izuku on your hip as you crept around the other side. “Let’s go see if we can help Eiji and then we’ll sneak upstairs before he finds us, yeah?”

“Yayyy!!!” Izuku cheered happily.

“FOUND YOU, SHITTY NERD!!!”

“Uh oh, Miss Y/N, run!!!!!”

An hour and a lot of duct tape later, Bakugou was sitting in the punishment chair for those that misbehaved while you read to the boys upstairs.

About ten minutes later, you flicked the lights off upstairs as you headed back down, being careful about which lamps to turn on since you didn’t want to wake the kids.

You fought back a grin as you saw the poorly wrapped duct tape tying his wrist to the chair. Apparently you could’ve been more clear to the boys that since the stuff was sticky, they didn’t have to necessarily tie it around his arm like string.

You were quite sure that Bakugou could've gotten up if he wanted to so you left him down there but when you finished the last book and he was nowhere to be seen, you came downstairs only to find him in the exact same position you left him in.

“What's wrong? Tied you up too tight?” You teased, knowing it had no merit.

“Ha ha, you’re so fucking funny.” Bakugou glowered at you, then his blank expression morphed into subtle curiosity. “The brats asleep?”

“Yeah,” You said, rubbing your arms as a breeze blew by and you frowned as you held out your hand and started to follow it all the way to its source and it only furrowed deeper when you deduced that it was coming from a crack in the front door. “Rats.”

“What the…” Bakugou trailed off as he came up behind you and at this point you didn’t even flinch.

For someone who was so tall and had such a fit physique, he sure moved like the wind. You were used to it by now.

You sighed, planting your hands on your hips after testing the lock to make sure it still worked properly. Thank goodness that was still fine. “It happens every winter. I think it has something to do with the wood and the weather when the temperature drops but I already fixed it this past season so I don’t know why…”

Burrowing your face in your hands, you groaned and tried to put it in back of your mind for now.

But Bakugou’s brow knitted at the safety concern and he jangled the knob to play around with it.

By the time you had stopped trying to think of ways to solve this problem temporarily until you had the means for a more permanent solution, Bakugou had fixed it.

Your jaw dropped as you saw he had stuffed some kind of weather strip you had laying in the corner with the rest of the maintenance tools collecting dust and bluntly claimed he’d fix it in the morning for you.

“You don’t have to do that!!” You cried out, feeling bad and not wanting to owe him anything.

Bakugou snorted. “That wasn’t a fucking question, dumbass.”

You opened your mouth to protest but the pitter-patter of tiny feet scaling down the stairs made you both raise your heads.

Your eyes filled with concern as you saw the little boy dragging a blankie behind him with his thumb stuck in his mouth.

“Izuku?” You rushed over and dropped down to the floor, not caring how you scraped your knees in the process. “What’s wrong?”

He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.

“... had a nightmare…” He mumbled under his breath, close to tears and your gaze softened sympathetically.

Opening your arms to him, you caught yourself as he ran into you and you walked back to where Bakugou was observing.

Nightmare. You mouthed at him and his eyes grew dark for a second.

You didn’t understand why but you didn’t ask any questions as you focused on consoling the crying boy.

“Hey, Izuku,” You whispered softly when he had calmed down enough to be coherent and tell you a little what it was about. “You know what always makes me feel better?”

He blinked up at you. “Pizza?”

You giggled and tapped his nose gently. “Well yes, but I was thinking more along the lines of ice cream…”

You didn’t miss the way eyes lit up and he automatically turned to an indifferent Bakugou watching the both of you while leaning against the wall with a pleading expression, and immediately, the man was shaking his head violently.

“Hell no.” He refused flatly. Upon the fresh tears that welled up in Izuku’s eyes, he turned to you, as though he needed to prove to you that he had a good reason for saying no. “It’s late out.”

“There’s a 24/7 store that carries ice cream right down the street.” You supplied helpfully, smiling innocently when he glared at you.

Bakugou sighed heavily and ran his fingers through his hair, gripping it in frustration. “It’s dark, Y/N. It’s dangerous.”

“I can go.” You suggested, trying to pry off an Izuku who was clinging to you.

“The hell? Fuck no.” Bakugou hissed and you sighed, giving up on trying to make the green bundle that was pretending to be a leech unstick from you.

“I’ll be right back.” You negotiated. “It’s not even that far—”

“You’re not going.”

You balked at the unrelenting tone he took with you but shut your mouth when you saw the look in his eyes. The look that told you he had seen things that he probably would never tell you.

You saw it in the way his hands shook ever so slightly when he held either Eijirou or Izuku, like he was afraid they would disappear on him the second he let go. You knew that kind of fear and you didn’t argue against him.

But before you could smile sadly at Izuku for letting him down, Bakugou was stomping upstairs and waking up the other slumbering toddler.

There was a muffled shout and then a grunt from above.

“Wake up, Shitty Hair.”

“Eh?! Where are we going?!”

You winced as a crash sounded from the upper level. You didn’t want to know what he broke this time.

But you followed Bakugou’s thinking. Even if the door was sturdy for now, it wasn’t a good idea to leave a child alone for whatever reason, even if you weren’t going to be gone long. If Eijirou woke up all alone, there was a good possibility he would venture outside by himself and that wouldn’t be good.

Besides, Eijirou would be sad if he missed out on this adventure.

It had taken five minutes for Bakugou to wrangle Eijirou, who was way too energetic this late at night, and an additional ten just before the four of you left the store.

Bakugou locked it behind you as you carried Izuku out.

Initially, he had insisted that he could carry him to give you a break but you told him you didn’t mind.

And you really didn’t. The little boy was snoozing softly against your shoulder and you were happy that you could provide some small amount of comfort to him after such a scary bad dream.

The trip was pretty uneventful. Nothing happened, you guys got there safely, Bakugou paid for more ice cream than you guys could consume in one night, saying something about how it was so he didn’t have to do this whole thing again and you walked back.

There were some stragglers out and you got a couple of glances that normally would’ve made your skin crawl but for some reason, this time you felt reassured as Bakugou drifted to your side and kept you close as he made sure Eijirou didn’t let go of his hand.

Eijirou was good, for the most part.

He was unusually serious and didn’t goof off inside the grocery store like he did in your bookshop and you were grateful for that. You didn’t know if you had the energy to chase him down like Bakugou had done earlier if he decided he wanted to play hide-and-seek.

At one point, Bakugou’s free hand that wasn’t busy holding onto the tubs of ice cream or Eijirou, to make sure he didn’t wander off, crept around your shoulders and pulled you close when someone who was drunk out of their minds strayed too close to you.

“Back the fuck off.” He growled protectively as he tucked you and Izuku into his side, glaring at them until they got the message and went on their way.

You were thankful that there wasn’t enough light for him to see the blush present on your cheeks and as you stepped back inside the safety of your bookstore, the boys going after the comfort ice cream like puppies with ice, you didn’t know quite how to feel when his scorching touch left you.

And you wondered why your heart was beating so fast.

By the time the next weekend had rolled around, it was their twentieth time coming together and you were starting to get a bit alarmed at how familiar their appearance was. You actually had to stop in your tracks when you realized you not only were looking forward to seeing Izuku and Eijirou but also Bakugou.

Crap.

That punk had wormed his way into your heart even more but you’d be damned if you let him stay there.

Convincing yourself you’d get over this petty little crush before it became a problem, you picked out some gifts for the two boys the next time you would see them.

By the time you had walked down the street to your shop from the toy store, you actually realized that they beat you to it. You had to calm the two toddlers down as they ran up to greet you, Eijirou vastly quicker on his feet than Izuku, even though the little boy tried his hardest.

They squealed as you gave them presents, showing them off to Bakugou and sped off into their corner to go play. Just like clockwork.

“So…” You started, cringing at how awkward you sounded now that you were alone with Bakugou. “Where’s their dad today?”

Bakugou coughed, then cleared his throat. “You mean that scruffy old man?”

You cracked a smile. “That’s the one.”

He was always with them. He was the first one to bring the boys in on a slow day, which quickly livened up due to the endless amount of energy contained inside a little Eijirou and a tiny Izuku.

Midgets. You loved them so much.

Their cheeks were so squishy, too. Adorable.

It had been months since you had last seen Aizawa and you were a little bit worried about him. But you figured if anyone would know if he was okay would be the man entrusted to watch his sons.

Bakugou sighed, crossing his arms over his chest so that his muscles bulged out from that sleeveless tank he was wearing. The patches of ink rippled in the light and moved almost like it was real. “Aizawa-sensei’s not their dad but he acts like it too fucking much to pretend that it’s not true anymore.”

You giggled at his harsh words edged with a bit of something else you couldn’t quite put your finger on. Something that sounded like begrudging fondness.

Bakugou jerked his chin to where Izuku was chasing after Eijirou, begging him to help him get a book down from the shelf. Usually, you’d go help them but the adorable little toddler puffed out his chest and started clambering up the step ladder to get it.

Bakugou had bought that one himself to replace the rickety one you had accidentally broken and fallen off of so you knew it was sturdy. They would only fall off of it if they weren’t careful but you were within sight of them so you weren’t too worried.

“He’s enlisted in the military so he can’t always watch them even after they blacklisted him. His old unit just recently got reinstated.” Bakugou said with a scowl, not bothering to elaborate on that, but his eyes softened the tiniest bit as Izuku huffed and puffed to catch up with Eijirou, his little legs working overtime to compensate for his lack of height. “So he gave the brats to me to make sure they didn’t kill themselves or something.”

You grinned, clasping your hands behind your back and stuck your face close to his, skirt swirling around your ankles as you sent him a cheeky smile.

“You volunteered, didn’t you?”

“Shut the hell up, no I didn’t!!” He shouted but you bit back the smile threatening to overtake your entire face.

“You’re too easy to read~” You teased.

Bakugou grabbed for you but you dodged easily. Gritting his teeth in determination, he ran after you and you yelped at how quickly he was gaining on you.

Damn, it was a bad day to wear these shoes.

You ducked around the corner only for him to catch up to you in a split second. You squeaked as he slammed you into the bookshelf, caging you in between his arms as he smirked down at you.

“I won.” He declared triumphantly.

You rolled your eyes and stuck out your tongue. “Such a child.”

Bakugou scowled. You were one to talk, taunting him like you two were friends or something. “Oi, fucking take that back.”

Your eyes glinted mischievously. “Or you’ll do what? Try to punch me again? Maybe this time you’ll actually land one and not miss like a lose—”

You gasped as his chest bumped into yours, his red eyes glimmering dangerously. His breath was hot against your face and your heart stopped.

“I don’t fucking lose.” He growled.

You gulped. Perhaps you had crossed a line. Your gaze darted away from him for a second, not even bothering to push him away because you knew you couldn’t.

“Thank you.”

Bakugou raised an eyebrow in surprise but masked it quickly. “For what?”

“For the other day.” You clarified. “I think I would’ve been screwed if you hadn’t come with, so thank you.”

He snorted and looked away. “Don’t mention it, dumbass.”

You were going to leave it at that but at that moment, a soft giggle floated through the air along with some very loud and obvious shushing.

Bakugou immediately tore after the little brats without a second thought as both Eijirou and Izuku poked their heads around the corner to spy on you and you threw your head back and laughed.

They were so goofy but maybe that crush they had told you about that you had so easily dismissed at first wasn’t so ridiculous after all.

While you were busy helping other customers throughout the day, Bakugou occasionally came to check in on you and make sure you were taking your breaks and eating, all while reassuring you that the shitty brats were fucking fine and you didn’t need to be worried about shit.

He could handle it.

You smiled and waved a hand at him when he left, giggling when he flipped you the bird before turning to the next person who wanted to check out.

The sun set and night fell, all along with the comfortable routine you had grown accustomed to having with all three of the boys.

But you bolted upright as Eijirou nonchalantly revealed something you didn’t expect the instant you finished setting up the tent for movie night.

“IT’S YOUR BIRTHDAY?!?!” You screeched in Bakugou’s ear.

Bakugou clapped a hand over your mouth, sending you a death glare, undoubtedly for your insanely loud volume, but you wrangled him off of you.

“Bu— You— Why didn’t you say something?!”

He looked at you as though you were crazy. You two barely knew each other and if he knew it was going to spur on this reaction, he definitely would’ve stopped Shitty Hair from saying that shit.

Too late now.

Bakugou slumped back against the makeshift fort you had set up for the boys in the loft. Said troublesome toddlers were currently going to town on your DVD collection so that they could choose a movie for tonight.

You only had cartoons from your childhood so it was a perfect selection for them. They were currently hunting through the bookshelf in your room that was connected to upper floor, just down the hall.

“What the hell is there to tell?” He grunted in your direction, a deep seated scowl on his features from the starry blankets and pillows that surrounded him.

You frowned. Growing up, birthdays had always been days that you looked forward to. The parties, the presents, family and friends to celebrate it with, you always loved it. Maybe there was a reason he didn’t want to celebrate it.

Glancing at him out of the corner of your eye, you idly rocked back and forth as you thought about how best to approach the reproachful man.

Bakugou sighed and glared at your crossly. You weren’t going to let this go until he gave you an answer.

“There ain’t no deep reason for it, none of that bullshit.” He ground out eventually and you perked your head up, listening attentively. “I don’t see what’s so special about the day I was born, it’s the same as every other fucking day.”

He was caught off guard as you rapidly shook your head, crying out at his words.

“It’s not!!” You implored earnestly, the roots to your ideals running deep as you leaned forward. “The day you were born is so special!! It celebrates your life, Katsuki!!”

Bakugou swallowed hard. Your proximity was making it very hard to breathe. That light in your eyes, the one that was able to find happiness in even the smallest of things, he didn’t understand it.

It was the same kind of light that Deku had. How fucking annoying.

“Damn idiot.” He muttered as he turned your face away from you so that he wouldn’t be tempted to kiss your lips. They looked so soft…

Fuck, he was screwed over. Quick, he had to think of something else.

Luckily, the distraction came in the form of two very energetic boys barreling into the tent. You collapsed in a fit of giggles as Eijirou returned from his adventure and tunneled into you, Izuku tripping on the way in only to be caught by the back of his collar by a reluctant Bakugou.

Eijirou quickly fumbled with the DVD, holding the cartoons he and Izuku had selected together up proudly for you to see.

You cooed, pinching his cheeks and praised them for making such a good choice. This one was one of your favorites when you were younger and you hadn’t seen it in a while so this was as much a treat for them as it was for you.

The little tent was a bit more cramped than you had anticipated, especially with the two hyperactive boys added into the mix, but it was doable for now. Your leg was pressed up against Bakugou’s warm thigh but you tried not to think about it as you popped the DVD into the small TV you had set up on a table outside of the cozy fort.

Eijirou snuggled up in your lap while Izuku hesitated to climb onto a very comfy looking hothead, who was actually quite tame at the moment.

Unfolding his arms, Bakugou's lip curled back in a scowl. "Tch, hurry up, nerd."

You couldn't even bring yourself to say anything about his language because while Eijirou seemed largely unaffected by it, Izuku’s forest green eyes actually sparked as he recognized the indirect permission granted.

It was actually quite adorable how the boys could read the disgruntled older man like a book.

Bakugou attempted to hide it from you but he couldn't stop you from seeing how gently he rested his large hand on top of Izuku’s little green curls. The tent didn't provide that much privacy.

Not wanting him to stop showing the rare display of affection towards the affection-starved child, you averted your eyes so that he could carry on. You knew he would retract his hand so fast if he thought you were looking at them.

You didn't want to ruin the moment.

Snuggling back into the plushy pillow, you held onto Eijirou as he curled onto your stomach, straining to see the small screen that lit up with moving pictures.

“Izuku, it’s starting!!” He exclaimed excitedly.

There was a crash and then a loud swear and as you looked over to make sure that Izuku and Bakugou were both alright, you had to clap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from laughing at the scene that you were presented with.

At Eijirou’s well intended announcement, Izuku had hurried upright, knocking back into Bakugou at the same time as he scrambled forward to be able to see.

But in doing so, he had tripped over the cord connecting the TV to the outlet that was behind you and fell forward. Right as the box came crashing down, aimed directly for his head.

Luckily, no one was hurt.

Bakugou had caught Izuku by the collar of his shirt and hauled him back, out of harm’s way before anything could happen to him.

Any other time, you would’ve voiced how impressed you were but now you were just worried about the little boy, who was openly crying, apologizing over and over again for breaking it.

“It’s alright, Izuku.” You reassured gently, patting his head comfortingly. His emerald eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he blinked up at your, his freckled cheeks flushed an embarrassed shade of pink and your eyes softened. “You’re safe, so no harm done!! Don’t worry, okay?”

He sniffled and shakily nodded.

Bakugou had yet to say anything but his fingers were still curled protectively around Izuku’s stomach, ensuring that he didn’t move around carelessly. Next time, he might not be as lucky. Not that he was going to admit that he was scared or anything.

How fucking ridiculous.

While you switched out Eijirou with Izuku to calm him down, Bakugou took charge in cleaning up the shattered shards of cheap plastic that had broken upon impact.

Your TV wasn’t completely destroyed but the plastic screen had cracked at the corner. For something so old, it sure was robust, he’d give it credit for that.

Eijirou tugged on his hand, losing his balance and Bakugou’s arm shot out to prevent him from face-planting in the shards that he had just swept up.

“Watch what you’re doing, Shitty Hair.” He growled, concern masked under his sharp reprimanding and he glared at the now sheepish toddler.

“C’mere, Eiji.” You coaxed, waving your hand to have him come closer to you so that he was out of the way until Bakugou got rid of the small, clear pieces hiding on the floor. “I don’t want you to get hurt, so let’s stay out of his way, yeah?”

Eijirou nodded vigorously, finding the logic in your words with relative ease and agreeing with them instinctively.

Sighing to yourself, you unplugged the TV so that an electrical surge wouldn’t cause a fire. That was the last thing you needed.

You were sad that the boys were disappointed with the short-lived movie night. But Bakugou insists that he can fix it just like he fixed your front door so the three of you waited for him to work his magic while you curled up with a good book to read to them.

You had already asked if he wanted help but he glowered at you for suggesting such an insane thing and you backed off with a shit-eating grin.

After almost an hour of reading books and playing games to pass the time, he got it up and running again, laying the cable on top of the fort you built so that it was out of the way, making it impossible for anyone else to trip on it again.

This time, everything ran smoothly and all of you gorged yourselves on popcorn and soda as the cheesy cartoons played out on the screen, thoroughly entertaining the two little boys while you and Bakugou stole glances at each other the entire time.

By the time it finished, Izuku was already fast asleep and Eijirou was struggling to keep his eyes open.

You put them both to bed, Bakugou’s soft half-smile going over your head as you tucked them into the spare futon you had set up for them specifically, almost three months ago, when this all started.

“You’re too fucking soft.” Bakugou decided as you two went downstairs to let the boys sleep.

It was familiar, it was routine. After every night when they fell asleep, you two would stay up talking for hours about anything and everything.

He eventually opened up to you about the life he had been involved in before he met Aizawa, who saved his life. After that, he reformed, he got clean, the whole nine yards.

And you were proud of him.

You told him about your life, though it probably was nothing at all that interesting compared to his problems that he dealt with. But surprisingly, you found him nodding along understandingly as you voiced your hardships with being anti-social and having a bunch of insecurities and anxieties that often made talking to people a nerve-wracking experience and you were astonished to find the weight that uplifted as soon as he put in his two cents and said that he really did understand.

You skipped ahead of him, spinning around to tell him how much you’ve grown to look forward to your conversations when the guarded look on his face made the confession die on your lips.

“You okay?” You asked concernedly, approaching him cautiously to give him enough time to push you away if he wanted to be left alone.

He grunted in your direction. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But he didn’t sound fine. His voice was strained and a bead of sweat ran down his forehead.

Biting your lip, you tilted your head contemplatively. Ice cream and books generally made you feel better when you had a bad day but you realized you had no idea what comforted him.

Gingerly, you took his hand and frowned when you saw the faded scars. He had been hurt.

“What do you need?” You asked softly and he sighed in defeat.

“What’s your favorite book?” He grumbled out and your mouth parted in surprise at the odd request.

Wordlessly, you led him over to the counter to grab the same book you had been reading that day he had first barged in and so rudely knocked you off your stool.

You held it up to him and still holding your hand, he led you in the back where you normally sat with the boys to read to them.

“Katsuki?” You questioned.

He gritted his teeth, mumbling something under his breath.

“Um…” You trailed off nervously. “C-Can you say it again? I didn’t really hear you…”

Bakugou whirled around and you squeaked at how close his face was to yours.

“Read it to me.” He demanded without pause and you would’ve laughed, thinking he was playing a prank on you if it had not been for his steely gaze.

“Okay…” You drew out slowly, wondering where this was suddenly coming about as you sat down on the tan leather sofa and patted the spot beside you, turning on the table lamp beside you so that you could see him. “Do you want me to start from the beginning? I’m not sure if you’ll even like this book, I have no idea what you like to read—”

Bakugou shook his head to cut off your anxious rambling, recognizing that it was stemming from your nervousness at him possibly judging you for what you liked to read and he leaned back, resting his arms behind his head.

“Doesn’t fucking matter.” He mumbled. “Just start.”

Even though you had numerous questions running through your head, you obliged and began reading, the words flowing off your lips with practiced ease.

Bakugou never told you but he was jealous of how you always read to the brats. Granted, he was a full-grown adult who shouldn’t pout in the corner when they got more attention than he did but it was so fucking stupid how soothing your voice was and how much of an effect it had on him. 

He could listen to you for hours and never get bored. Why do you think he always stuck around when you hopped up on the same tan leather sofa to read to those shitty kids?

It wasn’t just because he liked to look at your face, but it was because of the smile you had whenever you would read to them, that soft tilt of your head when the books evoked emotions from the children you were reading to and the giggle that bubbled past your lips when they laughed at something that the character did.

It never failed to do things to his heart.

Bakugou’s eyes eventually drifted closed after an hour of reading to him and you tensed when he careened into you by accident.

“Sorry.” He said shortly as he righted himself and you shyly reassured him that it was okay.

He didn’t say anything but you knew.

Ever since he got out of his old life, he had found a steady job but it was in construction and the risk was incredibly high. The hours were long and often the conditions were unforgiving. He had seen things happen on the daily and you were cautious to ever bring it up to him when he pressed closer to you than usual or who stayed longer by the front desk while you worked during operating hours.

You were about to stand up and leave so that he could sleep since he was obviously exhausted but his hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t go.”

It was quiet and it wavered but you didn’t hesitate.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you eased him down and swallowed hard when his own encircled your waist, bringing you close to him.

“I’m not going anywhere.” You promised.

Head laying on his chest, your heartbeat eventually synced with the rise and fall of it and you drifted off, unaware that Bakugou sealed your promise with a soft kiss to the top of your head.

The fragments of his heart gently pieced itself back together as he held onto you as though you were his lifeline and he couldn’t help but whisper brokenly.

“Thank you.”

Bonus:

“Papa!!!”

“You’re back!!”

Aizawa held a finger up to his lips as his boys reached for him at the same time, chuckling softly as he caught them both as they launched into him. He didn’t change out of his military gear yet, he wanted to see them first.

“Shh… “ He hushed quietly, ruffling both of their heads at the same time. Damn, he missed them. “Y/N’s sleeping downstairs.”

Instantly, both the boys shut their mouths and shot out at the speed of light.

Aizawa followed them downstairs just in time to see the two of them screaming silently as they danced around in rings around their favorite couch that you and Bakugou were cozied up on.

Your face was tucked under Bakugou’s chin and you were sound asleep. Meanwhile, the man beside you had his arm draped over your waist, the other one supporting your head as a makeshift pillow. The blankets on top of you were rumpled, as though they had been kicked aside in favor of you both seeking out each other’s warmth.

It was cute. Aizawa admitted it was one of the most heartwarming things he’d ever seen.

“Don’t wake them up.” Aizawa instructed as Izuku reached out to touch Bakugou’s spiky hair since he wasn’t awake to tell him off. “Not yet.”

Eijirou was curious but a wide grin broke out on his face when his dad pulled out his phone and snapped a few pictures.

“Oooo, Papa, can I?! Please?!?!”

Gesturing for him to lower his voice, Aizawa nodded and handed it off, watching Izuku and Eijriou briefly squabble about who got to use it first when they sorted it out amongst themselves and Izuku took the first turn.

You awoke to the sound of a shutter clicking right by your ear and blinking slowly, your eyes shot open and you jerked as you realized where you were.

And who you were with.

“Katsuki, get up!!” You hissed as the boys laughed loudly. Hell, even Aizawa cracked a smile and you threw him an apologetic look, though you didn’t know what it was for. “Katsuki!!”

He groaned and turned his face the other way.

This time, Aizawa couldn’t help but tease him a little. “Katsuki, huh?”

Bakugou turned back around and glared at the offending person smirking at him. “Shut the hell up.”

Aizawa clicked his tongue. “Respect your elders.”

“Oh f—”

“OKAY!!!” You shouted, clapping your hands together before he could cuss him out. “Who wants breakfast?”

“Oh, oh, oh, me!!!” Izuku cried, jumping up and down excitedly.

“Yay, food!!!” Eijirou cheered.

Bakugou blearily rubbed his eyes and yawned. Thank goodness he didn’t have to go in today. “Oi, didn’t you just eat?”

“Yeah, but that was last night!!” The little boy protested. “My stomach is hungryyyyy.”

“Fucking Shitty Hair.”

A warning tone came from Aizawa. “Bakugou.”

“... Sorry.”

“Coffee?” You offered to Aizawa as you all traveled back upstairs, the little ones racing ahead of you.

He sighed gratefully, blinking his eyes tiredly. “That sounds perfect.”

He was exhausted and the trip back was even more brutal than the one that took him to his destination. But he didn’t want to get into all of that now.

Eijirou and Izuku shot to their designated seats at the kitchen island and you put on an apron before pulling open the fridge to see what you could make.

“I meant what I said.” Bakugou confessed quietly while you cracked the eggs and prepared the bacon.

You didn’t look at him, not wanting to give it away to the other three who were watching you both like some kind of TV show.

“I know.” You murmured, a soft smile playing on the corners of your lips. “I did, too.”

Your heart fluttered as he boldly pressed a kiss to your temple and you blushed violently when the boys whooped and hollered at the two of you, Eijirou making faces of disgust and pretending to gag when Bakugou made it look like he was going to kiss you on the lips in front of them.

Aizawa chuckled as he handled the coffee machine, able to easily figure it out as he brewed enough for the both of you. “Look at that? You have learned how to play well with others, Bakugou.”

And this time, Bakugou didn’t even spare him a glance as he gazed at you until you looked his way.

“What?” You asked nervously, wondering if you had something on your face.

Bakugou hid a smirk.

“How ‘bout blueberry muffins to go along with that coffee, sweetheart?”

#bakugou x reader #bookshop au #modern au #bnha bakugou #bnha bakugou x reader #bakugou x reader oneshot #bakugou x reader fanfiction #child izuku #child eijirou #dadzawa #aizawa #kirishima #midoriya #deku #bakugou x reader bookstore au #bakugou x reader fluff #platonic izuku x reader #platonic eijirou x reader #platonic aizawa x reader #tattooed bakugou #my hero academia #my hero academia bakugou #my hero academia oneshot #bakugou katsuki #bakugou katsuki x reader #bnhacity

[alicee1]

Stories of time (I)

Platonic! SBI x GN! Reader

Warnings: none 

Word count: 2.1K

Synopsis: You tell the story of the Soldier, the Poet and the King, and place the book in Karl’s library for past Phil to find. Maybe with this, you’ll be bale to prevent the suffering and pain the family goes through in their future, which is your history. Inspired by the animatic ‘The soldier the poet and the king’ by  ‘Кир!!!’. Contains memories and mild angst.

Requested: No

A/n: I actually wrote the sequel to this first and this part after when i wasn’t satisfied with the sequel and couldn’t add the bits i wanted to. Then i came up with this and it was so much fun to write, and i really enjoyed it. For story purposes some details may be switched around. 

Italics are memories

Stories of time (II), Rules, Masterlist

Your hand wavered, quill gripped in your hand with ink ready at the nib, although you hesitated before putting it on the paper. So much had happened, everything was a chaos, but where did the story truly start?

Simply writing down what would happen in their future wouldn't do, it would throw everything for a loop and have unforeseeable effects.

No, you had to be discreet about this. If you wanted to change anything, then you'd have to be careful with your words.

Setting the quill on the paper, you started to move, words forming on the parchment paper as you weaved sentences together to form a story. On occasion your hand wavered, memories flashing through your mind as you wrote the words.

Telling a story that wasn't yours.

Not yours to know, to change, and perhaps to tell.

But you couldn't leave things as they were now. Too much had happened, too much pain, suffering, and anger.

The words turned to sentences, turned to a story.

Your eyes scanned the words, "There will come a soldier, who carries a mighty sword. He will tear city's down, empires down, people will speak of him as immortal."

A pained sigh left your lips as you remembered Technoblade. You hesitated, although you wanted to name the male in the book, you knew the weight it would ultimately carry.

"He will lead revolutions beside the most important figures in history, take down armies on his own, before raising one of his own, an army full of hounds."  

Skipping a line, you put down the quill on paper once more, "There will come a poet, who's weapon is his words. He will slay you with his words."

Wilbur. He had been there since the beginning, perhaps he started the story all together. He formed L'manburg and tore it down. He died by the hands of his father before returning again.

"Able to turn anyone to his side, motivate people in the darkest of times. He will tell stories, lead men and create great things with his words alone."

For a moment you reconsidered, maybe this wouldn't work. There was an uncountable amount of books in the library, getting in there at the right moment was the easy part, it was much harder however to get it to Phil. You couldn't show yourself to him, he wouldn't even know you and in the end it would only complicate things.

Nevertheless you forced yourself to continue writing.

"There will come a king, who will lead countless of men." Tommy. He had been there at the beginning of L'manburg and fought for its survival, seen it rise and fall.

Once more you remembered how young he was during all of it, he had gone through so much that you could barely keep count. He fought for, and with, his friends countless of times to protect what he believed in.

"He will raise nations, lead men into battle and come out victorious. His confidence will be earned, and he will have people look at him for guidance."

Hours passed as you wrote, but your quill only left the paper to get dipped into ink once more. Lost deep in thought you told the stories that were written in your history.

"The poet motivates the people, those following him, and the king. He will be someone people turn to for guidance, for advice."

Tommy looked at Wilbur, eyes unbelievable as the older male placed his hand on his shoulder. His face was stern, forced by the pressure and stress he was enduring.

"Tommy, we can't keep talking now, this is it. This is where we take it all back. Either that, or we get nothing… Are you ready?"

 Memories flashed before your eyes as you recollected the events. It felt as if L'manburg was from a distant past, somewhere far away, a lifetime ago, with everything that had happened in between.

Shaking your head, you gathered your thoughts, pulling them back to the parchment in front of you as you continued writing.

"The soldier will stand by his king, protecting him, putting his trust and loyalty in him."

 We have something you'll never, ever, have," a smirk formed on his face, confident and mischievous, "We have The Blade"

He had been forced on his knees before, but from the trees behind him a large figure emerged. Cloaked, with his face hidden behind a large pig skull, and a glowing Netherite axe in his hands.

Techno placed his hand on Tommy's shoulder, who couldn't help his smile growing bigger as Techno positioned himself in front of him.

 "but the king will rule, and his people will follow him into battle. He will bring hope to those standing beside him, those who put their trust in him"

 "It's all destroyed." Niki's mutter was almost inaudible over the loud chaos that ensued in front of them. The hellish withers floating over the area and raining down their destruction over the hole where once had stood a powerful nation.

"No, it's not all destroyed yet, Niki! Kill the withers!" Maybe Tommy's persistence was naïve, but it motivated those around him.

"We need to take them down together, now everyone!" Gathering them to head into the battle with him, taking down the creatures one at a time.

 All the good things come to an end, and maybe L'manburgs end was too soon, but for the time it lasted it was magnificent.

"These people will leave their imprints on history, influencing the world around them in unthinkable ways. Although they won't be able to last forever."

You dipped the quill into the ink pot once more, allowing it to scratch over the paper as you continued the story.

"The poets gift will become his downfall, for his words cannot save him, and his wondrous mind will betray him with lies and deceit. He will lose himself in his own mind, where the end shall near for him."

 The smile on his face was tired, but satisfied. Oh so satisfied.

He stood in the dark room, hand caressing the button as his father stood across from him. He hadn't seen him built the nation, but he would see the end of it.

The amount of TnT hooked to the button made his heart beat faster in an unnatural kind of way, a satisfaction he wanted to achieve. His hand reached for the button, as Phil reached for him.

"It was never meant to be."

He couldn't reach him in time, hearing the hiss of the TNT setting off around him. He couldn't stop his son from pressing the button, so he protected him from the damage instead.

He sacrificed his wing as it shielded the two of them from the stone as the room collapsed on itself.

"My L'manburg Phil! My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished!" His voice was loud, madness evident within as he yelled out, looking over the ruined landscape before him.

His companions, who he once had considered his closest friends looked at him from a distance, from the battlefield. They looked confused, mad, although they struggled to believe what he had done to the nation he had helped built.

"Kill me Phil, kill me!"

Maybe he hadn't been here for the beginning of the nation, but he could see how his son had lost himself in the process he hadn't been there to witness.

Wilbur collapsed in his father's arms, Phil's blade pierced through his chest as he laid limp on the ground.

 Unconsciously, tears had formed in your eyes at the memories. Blurring your vision as you stopped writing for a second, wiping your tears with your sleeve as you gathered your thoughts. The book had been filled steadily over the past hours as you wrote, reminiscing in the old memories.

"The soldier, bound by the loyalty and trust he put in those who he deemed worthy, will fall to that same loyalty and trust. He will be betrayed by those whom he trusted, stabbed in the back by his friends and companions."

 Rage filled his veins at the sight. How could he have been so blind? How did he not see that coming? History repeated itself, it always had and always would. How were they ignorant enough to ignore that?

He acted on instinct, years of training and battles had automated his movements. Voices chanted the same words in sync in his mind, fuelling the rage inside him.

"I did not spent WEEKS! Planning this revolution! GIVING YOU GUYS POWER! For you to go in, and replace one tyrant with another!" The words left his mouth without filter, and he didn't regret any of it.

They had it coming for them after deciding to betray his trust.

 You were nearing the end of the book, the amount of pages left thinning out as you continued. Hours had passed, although you weren't sure how many it had been at this point, just that it had been many.

"The king will turn everyone on him, for he will never be able to satisfy everyone. He will be exiled from his land, abandoned by his closest friends, and suffer before death will arrive as a sweet release"

 Tommy's eyes widened, watching the stage in front of him in disbelief. His hand anxiously tugged at the sleeve of Wilbur's uniform, "Will?" his name came out unsure.

They couldn't do more than watch the scene in front of them play out helplessly, holding their breath anxiously as the male on the stage spoke.

"My first decree as president of this great country, Manburg, is to REVOKE! The citizenship! Of WILBUR SOOT, and TOMMY INNIT!" all eyes seemed to turn to them as Wilbur watched on from beside Tommy in disbelief.

He motivated Tommy to start running, feeling an arrow pierce his shoulder as he took off behind him, away from the nation they created.

  They stood in Pogtopia, Wilbur standing in front of Tommy in the brown cloak he had traded for his L'manburg uniform.

"Tommy, when I said you will never be president, you've got to understand, that was never a challenge." Tommy looked confused at the older male, his brother, the one he would lay his life on the line for.

"That's the truth. You're never going to be president Tommy." An almost taunting smile played on his lips as Tommy looked at him, the pure disbelief and hurt evident on his face.

  Techno's posture was broad, towering over him with ease as he spoke, voice eerily calm making a shiver shoot up his spine.

"Tommy the thing is, you're using words." Techno spoke, for once the mask didn't cover his face, allowing him to see the way his eyes squinted at him.

"The thing about this world, Tommy, is that the only universal language is violence. And we've had that conversation. We've spoken that language. In the pit." Techno turned away from him, grabbing the mask and positioning it on his head as he moved to the exit of Pogtopia where Wilbur stood waiting.

"It's over Tommy, onto a new day, a new plot, to destroy Manburg." He turned his back to him, and despite his collected composure, Tommy had heard the way his voice rose when he spoke of the pit.

Techno had left him for Wilbur and Dream.

  Now he was faced with the one person that had started all of his suffering to begin with. The curtain of lava fell back down behind him as he stepped off the platform and took one last look at Sam.

It didn't take long for the lava to entirely cover the entrance of the cell once more, leaving him alone in the isolated cell with Dream. The one person he despised most on the entire server.

Loud sounds echoed through the walls of the prison, it was almost as if an explosion went off. Furrowing his eyebrows, Tommy turned back to the lava wall, anxiety rising inside him as he called out for the warden.

"Sam? Let me out! Sam what are you doing?"

"SAM LET ME OUT!"

#mcyt fanfiction #mcyt #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt x you #x reader #phil x reader #wilbur soot x reader #technoblade x reader #tommy innit x reader #tommyinnit x reader #sbi x reader #sbi #sbi x y/n #sbi x you #dsmp #dsmp x reader #dream smp #dream smp x reader #dsmp techno #dsmp fanfic #dsmp philza #dsmp wilbur #dsmp tommy #philza #philza minecraft #philza x reader #technoblade #techno fanfic #technoblade x you

[duvetsandpillows]

Lucky One

Pete Davidson x Reader 

Word count: 2k

Warnings: Swearing, mention of needles, slight angst, drug use

A/N: This is my first Pete fic but I think I will definitely be writing more. Please let me know what you think!

I sat in bed, joint in one hand, lighter in the other. I’d been staring at the wall for the past half hour or so, drowning in my thoughts, forgetting the joint I’d been fiddling with was there to be smoked.

I was thinking about everything and nothing all at once. Have I taken my antidepressant? What do they do with the bagel holes? You’re gonna be alone forever. Don’t forget your earring is behind the back left leg of the desk. New thoughts beginning before the last one could end. I was exhausted yet I hadn’t done anything to warrant feeling so drained. I’d only left my bed to piss.

“Hey you home?” I glanced over at my door, reality setting back in, before realizing how messy my bed was; sketchbook and pencils scattered everywhere, weed crumbs and ash from not paying attention to what I was doing and empty monster cans. I kicked as much as I could off the end of the bed before putting the long forgotten joint to my lips and sparking it. The door slowly opened, Pete standing in the doorway holding a bag and a coffee.

“Whatcha doing in bed B?” he asked climbing into the bed handing me the coffee. I took a toke and thanked him while passing him the joint.

“I just don’t feel like moving. I feel like shit, my brain won’t stop for just a second. I just want everything to stop.” My voice breaking as I began to fight back tears. He blew smoke into the air, putting his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into his side, handing me the joint.

“Breathe B, you’re gonna be okay. I know that sounds like bullshit but I’m here to help you through it.” I took a take and wiped a stray tear from my eye. “It’s always been me and you hasn’t it, that’s not gonna stop now. Did you take your antidepressant today?”

“I can’t remember,” I squeaked, letting the tears win the battle. Pete put his other arm around my chest and squeezed tight, resting his hand on the back of my head and rubbing his thumb.

He would whisper little pick me-ups every few minutes while I cried. “At least you didn’t walk straight into a street light like I did.” I looked up to see him pointing to a small bruise on his forehead. “I saw a woman carrying a dog in a baby sling thing and then boom! Street Light.” I giggled before taking a deep breath and wiping my tears with my sleeves.

“I guess you could say she threw you off your rhythm.” He rolled his eyes and pushed my head playfully before chuckling.

We’d been friends practically our whole lives, yet it was rare for us to talk about deep shit. Not because we didn’t care but we were good at talking each others minds off all the bullshit. 

“Movie, smoke, munch? I brought gushers and twizzlers.”

“Only if I get to pick.”

“Obviously, you always pick.” I scoffed and sat up, rolling my eyes.

“Bullshit, we constantly watching The Mule.”

“Not my fault you can’t appreciate a masterpiece,” he said as he grabbed my rolling tray from the end of the bed and I began flicking through Netflix for something to watch.

“Your hair looks nice by the way,” he mumbled, eyes focused on rolling the joint. I glanced over at my reflection in the mirror, I looked as if I’d just climbed out of the hedge. I smiled and thanked him, deciding to put on Knocked Up.

Pete told me what he’d been up to all week and who the guests were gonna be while we watched the film. I made him a twizzler ring and he attempted to make me a bracelet but he couldn’t work out how to get the knot to stay tight.” After a couple more joints I sat up on my knees and faced him.

“Could... I maybe colour in your tattoos?” I asked, placing my hand on his leg to stay balanced, realizing how high I was after not moving for so long.

“Yeah of course, which one first?” I smiled and pointed to the unicorn on his arm and leant off the end of the bed to grab my pens, Pete grabbing hold of my foot as I almost fell off. After I’d finished the unicorn I moved onto the direwolf underneath. Pete was flicking through the pages of my sketchbook as I added icy blue to the eyes.

“Y’know,” he started, passing me a joint, “I reckon you could be a tattoo artist. You could even practice on me.” I stopped and looked at him a bit taken back.

“I’ve never thought about it before.”

“Maybe you should.”

Once I finished the direwolf I looked up to see Pete had dozed off, I smiled and pulled a blanket over him, moving the sketchbook off his lap. I rolled a joint and glanced at the open drawing of a group of clouds I’d been working on but hadn’t yet worked out what should accompany them.

I thought about what Pete said and picked up the sketchbook and a pencil. I smoked while drawing Frank the bunny’s head from Donnie Darko. It was my favourite film and Pete had watched it with me countless times.

After an hour or so I finished the outline and most of the infill with different shades of blue. I felt Pete roll over and put his arm across my lap. I looked down to see him, eyes half open, observing my drawing.

“That’s amazing.” His voice gruff and low.

“Thank you,” I said passing him a monster from my bedside table. He sat up partially and took a sip before handing it back to me. “Good nap?” He nodded and laid back down into my side.

“You should put that on me,” He kicked his leg out from under the blanket and pointed to the side of his thigh. “Here would be perfect.”

“If you’d like.” He sat up again and gently tore the sketch out of the book.

“Come on then.” I frowned and tilted my head slightly. “There’s a guy that could do this now, you could get one too?”

I stared at him in a bit of shock, not expecting him to actually want one of my pieces on his body. I thought he was saying it just to be nice. Also as I’d never considered getting a tattoo before. Not because I didn’t like them but more because I was nervous; I wasn’t great with needles and if tattoo’s would suit me.

“You up for it?”

“What if I look awful with one?” I blurted, Pete’s smile morphed into confusion.

“Why would you look awful?” You always look great.” I could feel my cheeks getting warm and I couldn’t help but ever so slightly smile. “Plus I think you’d look hot with one,” he mumbled handing me the sketchbook, open to a small drawing of a sheep I’d done high while watching Shaun the Sheep.

“It’s small, if you want it to be hidden then it’s easy.” I looked down at the doodle and thought about it for a moment.

“Fuck it lets go.”

I sat on a chair next to Pete watching as the tattoo artist, Jon, carefully traced over the light purple outline in dark blue ink. I began adding to my sheep. A few clouds in the background, similar to the ones on Pete’s.

“What you doing?” I handed him the paper, glancing over at his leg, in awe at how it was turning out. I looked back at Pete who was smiling at the drawing. I held out the pencil to him, when he didn’t notice I poked his arm with it.

“Ow, dick,” he said pouting and rubbing his arm. “What am I meant to do with this?”

“Add something to it, you got a piece of me,” I pointed to his leg. “Your turn.”

“I can’t draw like you and-”

“And I don’t care. Draw.”

While Pete drew, not phased at all by the needle going in and out of his leg, I chatted with Jon, asking him question about how he became a tattoo artist and what it’s like. I was slowly becoming more interested the more I watched him work. Once he was done he turned to me.

“You ready?” he asked, I nodded nervously and Pete passed him the design. Pete swapped places with me after taking a look at it in the floor length mirror. I decided to get it on my arm as I decided I wanted to always be able to see it now Pete had added to it. I told them I didn’t want to see it until it was finished, wanting Pete’s addition to be a surprise. I looked over at Pete, nerves starting to kick in a little.

“Have I ever told you I’m not brilliant with needles?” He chuckled and took my hand in his.

“Yep,” I winced as the needle hit my skin. “Like the time you gave blood because you thought that nurse was cute and threw up all over him before fainting.” I chuckled before biting the inside of my cheek and gripped his hand tight. “You’re good, just keep your eyes this way,”

Pete kept chatting with me and rubbing his thumb on the back of my hand, keeping me distracted from the pain.

“Should I be nervous with what you drew? It’s just clicked how much trust I’ve given you.” He pursed his lips, holding back either as smile or a laugh. “Pete...”

“Nah nah nah, it’s not that bad, but you said to add a bit of me. Trust me you’ll love it.” I raised my eyebrows before gripping his hand again, feeling a muscle in my arm unintentionally spasm.

“You’re good, it happens sometimes, we’re almost done here.”

After ten more minutes it was all done and he was wiping it up. It was aching it a little but I was really excited to see it.

“You ready to see it?” I nodded and looked at my arm to see the best tattoo I could imagine. The clouds were a beautiful combination of greys and whites, my sheep now with a spliff in its mouth and a second, slightly wonky looking, sheep with a spliff also in its mouth and sunglasses on. It kind of looked like a child drew the second sheep but I loved it even more for that.

“I put our initials at the bottom so we don’t forget who is who.” I giggled looking at his scruffy handwriting underneath. “So... what do you think?”

“I fucking love it!” I said wrapping my arms around him hugging him as tight as I could. “Thank you Pete.” I pressed a kiss to his cheek and let Jon wrap my arm up in cling film.

We grabbed some Taco Bell on the way home, I was designated DJ and he driver. I was, questionably, rapping along to Colson and Corpse’s new song while Pete laughed at me. He slipped his hand into mine, giving it a small squeeze and continued driving and started rapping along as if that was a normal for us to hold hands. I smiled and gave his a squeeze back even though I was a bit shocked. Shocked but yet it felt normal.

“You can roll the next one, my arm aches,” I said flopping onto my bed.

“Is that gonna be your excuse for the next week?” 

“Did it work?” I looked up to see him shaking his head and chuckling as he picked up the rolling tray.

“You’re lucky you’re cute.” I smiled and winked as it sat up. 

“You’re lucky too, you get to look at this cute face all the time.” Pete leant forward and took my hand, pulling me into his lap.

“What would you say, if I asked you out... to dinner or something?” I wrapped my arms around his neck and furrowed my eyebrows.

“What like a date?” His smile and confidence drained from his face immediately and I had to force myself to hold back a laugh.

“It doesn’t have to be no, I just- aw fuck.” I started pissing myself laughing, holding onto him tight to keep my balance.

“Yes I’d love to go on a date, if you hurry up and roll that joint, I teased winking at him, swinging myself off his lap. “I’ll even put on The Mule yeah?”

“I’m definitely the lucky one.”

#Pete davidson imagine #pete davidson x reader #pete davidson x you #fuffy #angst

[spookyceph]

Pull Test

Summary: Shigaraki and Kurogiri meet with the League of Villain's newest candidate.

Rating: Gen Fic, SFW

Relationships: Shigaraki & Magne

Characters: Shigaraki Tomura, Magne, Kurogiri, Giran, mentioned Dabi, mentioned Toga Himiko

Words: 2,732

Warnings: Implied/Referenced transphobia and deadnaming when Magne's background is mentioned, swearing

The manila folder dropped from the air like a dead bird, hitting the bar top with a slap. Tomura jerked back, stool wobbling beneath him, and grit his teeth as he heard the staccato sounds of his fighter taking damage in his game. Recovering balance, he hit the pause button before glaring at the warp gate that swirled into being across the way.

“Another one already?” he snapped the moment the tall figure of his caretaker stepped out of the darkness.

Kurogiri straightened both his tie and metal gorget. “I was quite impressed myself. Giran is proving to be as professional and efficient as advertised.” He motioned to the folder he’d air dropped in. “Shall we consider this new candidate together, Shigaraki Tomura?”

Tomura wasn’t in the mood to consider shit. He hadn’t been hanging around the bar for going on two hours hoping for work to come along. One of his hands strayed to his pocket. He touched the lump that was the jar of salve he’d taken to carrying at all times. The serpentine ridge of a friendship bracelet (I used red, white, and black string so it would match you, Tomura-kun!) had joined it a week ago. Of course, he’d die before admitting to lurking just to catch a glimpse of Dabi. Or that he’d agreed to let Toga show him her favorite otome games as soon as she came back from her shopping trip. He definitelycouldn’t tell the smug old ink splatter to fuck off and let him get back to his goal of a high score—not without having how wrong he’d been about those same two people rubbed in his face.

That left being a responsible leader as the only option.

Tomura growled and set his game aside. He flicked the folder open. “Fine. What’s this new asshole’s name?” Giving in didn’t require him to be gracious about it.

“Ah. About that. I believe there’s a conflicting issue in her files about that point. Her family name is Hikiishi, however, her given one, or both, may require an update.”

A look at the top of the file filled in the blanks. The picture Giran had included showed the candidate flashing a bold smile at the camera. Shoulder-length auburn hair framed prominent cheekbones. Slightly darker fuzz lined her jaw and chin. Tomura couldn’t tell what color her eyes were behind her sunglasses, but they locked with his through lenses and stock paper alike. Hikiishi Kenji, read the first line of information on the page beneath the photo. A police report, by the looks of it.

“I see. Well, for now let’s just call Hikiishi by her alias until she confirms with us.” Tomura skimmed through the info again. “Magne, right? Related to her quirk, I assume.”

The currents of Kurogiri’s mist slowed and relaxed into looser coils. “Correct.”

Tomura frowned. “What? Did you think I’d have some sort of problem with the name thing?”

“After the misunderstanding with Dabi—”

“Dabi and I talked.”

The yellow eyes glowing within the darkness widened. “Did you now?”

Fuck, he wasn’t turning red, was he? Was he? “We’re adults. We worked shit out, okay? Not everybody has a stick up their ass about being polite all the time.” He scooped up his game, more than ready to retreat into something he could control. “When are we expecting Magne?”

“Giran can bring her by tomorrow evening.”

“Fine. Let’s get the stupid meet and greet crap over with.” When only silence followed, Tomura raised his gaze from the screen to glare at Kurogiri. “What?”

The wisps curling from the smoggy bastard’s head looked suspiciously like smiles. “Nothing, Shigaraki Tomura. Nothing at all.”

-

Taptaptap.

Tomura’s finger rose and fell on the bartop fast enough to give a sewing machine needle a run for its money. The ball of his right foot bounced on the stool’s crossbar in time with it.

Taptaptap.

Giran had promised he’d be there between 9:00 and 10:00. The clock by the door pointed to 9:51.

Taptaptap.

Lots of people would be riding the trains on a Friday night. Or roaming the streets, looking for food and alcohol, karaoke, strangers to stave off loneliness. Heroes would be out in force as a result, watching for any predators stalking the herds of humanity. Tomura didn’t know how to calculate exact probability rates for shit hitting the fan, but he got the sense they were on the higher end under such conditions.

Taptaptap.

Why couldn’t he just run into party members along the way as needed, like in games? Each one would specialize in a skill, forming a well-rounded team. Everyone would follow him to the bitter end because they believed in him and not some ass goblin named Stain. Why they believed in Tomura wouldn’t matter, though money would be a reasonable guess. Idealism didn’t pay much from what he could tell.

Taptap—

“Be calm, Shigaraki Tomura. This meeting will go well.”

He bared teeth at Kurogiri. “There has to be a meeting for it to go a certain way. And I am calm, damn it.”

“So I see.” He finished wiping down the glass he held before setting it on the bar and grabbing another. “My apologies.”

Tomura twisted on the stool to give the smart ass shadow a piece of his overthinking mind.

Knock, knock, knock.

Without missing a beat, Kurogiri stuck his free hand through a small warp gate and turned the handle of the door across the room. He went back to polishing as two figures entered the bar.

For someone who charged such high fees, Giran went out of his way to look cheap and kitschy. Little round tinted lenses pinched to the bridge of his nose. A scrunched scarf like someone’s guts slung around his neck. One front tooth missing in his low-key sleazy smile. The woman following right behind him and surveying her new surroundings made for a more welcome sight. Sunglasses (her and Giran both, for fucks’ sake) hid her eyes just like in her picture, but her lips held a hint of a smile.

The essence of good manners, Kurogiri bowed to their guests. “Good evening. Welcome to our humble home.”

Tomura, to balance the scales, snorted and folded his arms across his chest. “Took you long enough.”

Giran shrugged and twirled his hand, leaving behind a smoke spiral from the tip of the cigarette between his fingers. “Our train was delayed by some prankster threatening to blow up the tracks.”

“Doesn’t sound like a prank.”

“It wouldn’t have been if the lazy bastard hadn’t been trying to pass off children’s clay as plastic explosive. One of the cops noticed the stuff was bright yellow and they rushed him. They didn’t even call in a hero.” The broker shook his head. “What’s this world coming to? People can’t be bothered to find and pay for real weapons anymore. It offends my pride as a businessman.”

Behind Father, Tomura grimaced. His short-lived venture with Stain had indeed moved people to lash out at society. The problem was most of them were fucking morons. He doubted any decent candidates the League managed to net would make up for all the secondhand embarrassment he’d suffered in the past couple of weeks from watching the news.

“Oh, I don’t know,” the woman said, tapping her chin. “I felt kinda bad for the poor guy. He looked like your average office wage-slave. I thought he was going to break down in tears when they hauled him off.”

“Serves him right for cutting corners. No conviction, no integrity these days I tell you.”

She hid a grin behind her hand. “You’re heartless, Giran.”

The broker snorted smoke from his nostrils like an exasperated dragon. “I’m practical.”

“And yet you still haven’t introduced me.”

Posture straightening, Giran tugged at his weirdly anatomical scarf. “Sorry, got sidetracked. Magne, Shigaraki Tomura and Kurogiri of the League of Villains.”

“Pleased to meet you.” Slipping off his stool, Tomura gave her a short bow. The way Kurogiri swayed slightly, as if he’d swoon from shock, made the display worth it.

“I take it I’ve earned my fee?” chimed in Giran.

Kurogiri’s misty form shuddered as he roused himself. “Of course. We’ll hear from you again soon?”

“I’ve got a few candidates lined up.” The broker sketched them a mock salute before turning and closing the door behind him.

“Please, have a seat.” Tomura motioned to the row of barstools beside him.

“Thank you. Don’t mind if I do.”

While Magne approached, he studied her movements. She strode across the hardwood floor, work boots making minimal noise with each step. Grace as well as power. She knew how to use the muscle under her shirt’s rolled up sleeves rather than relying on pure size. Although, that didn’t hurt either—Tomura put her at over ten centimeters his own height at least, and she definitely outclassed him by weight. He wondered whether she had speed to go along with strength. She slid into the next seat over and rested her chin in her hands.

“Would you care for something to drink, Miss Magne?” Kurogiri asked, jumping at the chance to play host.

“Oh, my. So formal. Sure, I’ll have whatever you recommend.”

Tomura waited until a small glass of something amber-colored had been set in front of them both (ginger ale for him) and she’d taken an approving sip before getting things rolling.

“You have quite a record, Magne.” Though he’d already memorized the relevant bits, he flipped open the folder container her information.

She glanced over, shades slipping down her nose as she scanned the first page of the police report. “Twenty-nine attempted murders, huh? Is that what they’re calling those? I’m surprised you guys bothered having me come in after reading that garbage.”

“Why?”

Like a small bird, Tomura’s stomach dipped and fluttered when Magne looked at him over the edge of her glasses. Not quite in the same way it did when he caught Dabi watching him from across the room, but close enough to classify the sensation as pleasant. Her irises shone like polished agates, made up of rich layers of browns from a starburst of mahogany around her pupils to flecks of burnished copper. Tomura suddenly understood her hiding them behind lenses. Such a beautiful detail would stick in anyone’s memory.

“Somebody who tried and failed to kill that many people would look pretty incompetent, right?” she replied. “Or like they chickened out at the last second. I don’t enjoy killing. I’ll tell you that up front. But…I didn’t hesitate with the three I did put down, let’s just say that.”

Tomura, a multiple murderer himself, examined the square set of her shoulders, the twist of scorn to her mouth towards her accusers, and found no reason to doubt her. He nodded.

“The so-called attempts were from the robberies you pulled off then?”

“Mostly, though I’m sure a few of the bullies I smacked around exaggerated just to prove what big, strong men they are.” She harumphed and took another sip from her drink.

“And the actual murders?”

Her lips puckered, as if she tasted something more bitter than whatever alcohol Kurogiri had given her. “Personal matters.”

“I see.” Tomura turned the page and ran his finger further down the information. “Your quirk has some unique parameters.”

The lines of Magne’s face eased into a smile. “Oh, the gender thing? A theory really. I haven’t had much opportunity to test it seriously. It might be nothing but my own perception…but I guess that doesn’t make it any less real, does it?” She lifted a hand from her glass and reached halfway toward him. “Care for a demonstration?”

Tomura caught himself drawing away from her, his nails latching onto the sides of his neck. Cowering—great way to display his leadership skills. “What’re you going to do?”

“Oh, just tug on your arm a little. Go ahead and put it down by your side for me.”

Resisting the urge to look to Kurogiri for reassurance, he did as asked. For safety’s sake he curled his fingers into a fist.

Magne smiled. “Ready?”

According to the knot in his stomach, no, but he nodded anyway. His arm jerked and leapt up as if it were tied by a string. Tomura gasped, almost slipping off his seat. Magne caught and steadied him.

“Sorry, honey! Got so excited to show off I put a bit too much oomph into it.” She patted his shoulder as if there weren’t dead, gray hands clutching it.

“’S’alright,” he mumbled. And it was—his skin showed no marks, his muscles and joints registered no pain. He readjusted the delicate hand decorating his wrist. Cold, waxy, and pliant. Nothing like Magne.

“So, can you manipulate people’s movements? Turn them into your puppets?”

She hummed and pushed her sunglasses back into their proper place. “Not really. I can move someone with the proper amount of push versus pull, but it’s such delicate work that they could break free pretty easily. Hold out your arm and I’ll show you what I mean.”

Still making a fist, Tomura followed her suggestion. Magne positioned her hands on either side of his forearm, spread about half a meter apart. Concentration dug a V between her brows. A thrum jolted through Tomura’s bones. He startled at the rush of tingles in his elbow and shoulder but kept his balance. Something like a low electrical current pulsed along his arm, raising its pale little hairs. Eyes wide, he watched as the limb drifted from one side to the other, then up, down—anywhere the poles of Magne’s palms guided it. He could even see, feel his skin being tugged and pressed by her quirk. Taking a deep breath, Tomura drew his fist back. He met some resistance, but didn’t have to put up any real struggle.

“Weird.” He shook his buzzing fingers out. “But kinda nice. Tingly. Like an electrical field.”

Magne tilted her head and smirked. “Oh? That’s a new one. Then again, maybe I’d have heard it before if I used my quirk for something besides bashing jerks.”

What would he have done without Father hiding the fact he blushed at the slightest fucking thing? He’d never get used to talking to people at this rate.

“Your skills would be a great asset to the League, Miss Magne,” Kurogiri said, saving Tomura from having to pretend he could be witty. “I presume Giran discussed the expenses we cover? Upon joining, you would also be welcome to claim a room upstairs, should you wish.”

Magne went still. Even her breathing stopped for a moment. “You’d let me stay here?”

Tomura knew right then he’d never live down being wrong about not letting League members move into the hideout. Kurogiri would never be crass enough to say it out loud, of course. He didn’t have to. Tomura sighed, accepting his fate.

“Two members live here already, including another woman. We can introduce you to them both before you decide.”

Gaze aimed at the ceiling, Magne touched fingers to her pursed lips. “I’ve already made up my mind.” She met Tomura’s eyes, a smile lighting up her face. “Sign me up.”

Well. He had no clue whatso-fucking-ever how they’d convinced her, but results were results. Besides, she hadn’t mentioned Stain once. She deserved free room and board for that alone.

“Ah, wonderful. We’re so delighted to have you, Miss Magne.” Kurogiri steepled his fingers. “Please let me know if you require any assistance in moving your belongings. I can warp them to whichever room you choose.”

A soft laugh huffed out of her. “No need, honey. I travel light these days. Would tomorrow evening be too soon?”

Tomura shrugged. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure Toga and Dabi are around so you can meet them.” Even if he had to staple the latter to a chair to make him comply.

“Sounds like a plan.” Magne raised her glass. “To new friends then?”

There was that word again. Offered with the same ease Toga had shown. And Dabi…he’d never said it maybe but his gift had implied…well, something. Tomura touched his pocket. The weight and shapes of the items inside it. With the same hand, he picked up his own glass and clinked it against Magne’s.

“Sure. I’ll drink to that.”

#big sis magne #bnha magne #mha magne #magne #shigaraki fic #league of villains fanfiction #league of villains fanfic #lov fanfiction #lov #league of villains #fic series #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki #kurogiri #giran #bnha giran

[wreckofawriter]

Minnie's Daughter

Pairing: James Potter x McGonagall's Daughter!Reader

Word Count: 3,984

Warnings: Swearing? None? Fluffy

Summary: When James finds out his favorite proffesser has a daughter he can't seem to keep her from his head

A/n: I fuckin loved writing this, I wrote it all today and I'm now finishing it at 12:46 at night. This is #12 from the fanfic vote and got the second highest number of votes, hope y'all enjoy! Look at me posting twice in one week

“Potter!” 

James flinched slightly before turning around a large grin plastered onto his visage, “Minnie! So good to see you!” He cheered 

The older woman rolled her eyes on instinct, “I told you not to call me that James. I am your professor you shall treat me accordingly.” she spoke sharply.

“Jeez, Minnie you seem more angry than usual.” The boy shuddered in his usual fashion; dramatically. 

She sighed rubbing her temple with one hand, “Just come with me, Potter.” 

“Yes, ma’am!” He saluted smile not faltering despite the nerves which now slowly consumed him. 

The two slowly made their way towards McGonagle’s office, something James knew a bit too familiarly. As they walked everything he had ever done flashed through his memory, the thousands of school rules he had abandoned, the laws he had broken, pranks he had pulled. What was he in for this time? It seemed there were far too many possibilities. 

The second that the door shut behind him he opened his mouth. 

“Minnie if this is about the Grindylows in the prefects’ bath, I had nothing to do with it, I swear on my life. That prank was simply untasteful and you know I would never do something so dull.” He defended putting on his most innocent mask. 

“Potter you aren’t in trouble, I simply- wait, what Grindylows are you talking about?” She asked brows furrowed.

The boy’s eyes widened, “Oh, um, i-it’s nothing you need to worry about.” He spoke his voice gaining false confidence. 

Another exasperated sigh left the professor’s lips but she didn’t address what she was sure to become a problem, “I simply wanted to talk to you about your plans for the quidditch team now that you are the captain.” 

“Ooohhh,” The boy nodded in understanding, a wave of relief washing over him. Excitement built in his stomach as quidditch was mentioned and he bounced happily on his heels a shimmer appearing in his dark eyes. “I can show you my workouts and plays and stuff if you want.” He offered eagerly, “I have some written in my bag.” 

“That sounds perfect James.” She grinned, “Bring them to my desk.”

He nodded walking forward while rummaging for the notebook he had spent the summer scribbling in. He found it and placed it on his professor’s desk before opening it’s worn cover and flipping through the pages. 

Both individuals quickly became immersed in the plans as the captain explained his workouts, strategies and more. In fact, they became so engrossed they didn’t notice a third figure enter the room.

You rolled your eyes as you heard your mother jabber about the sport she loved so much. You sighed walking up towards the pair being purposefully quieter than needed. You suppressed a giggle as you neared the duo. You stood just to the right of the boy who was crouched over his notes, you then leaned your head so your chin was resting just above his shoulder, you could smell the cologne he wore but ignored its sweetness. Your lips centimeters from his ear you spoke, “Whatcha guys talkin’ about?” 

The dark-haired boy let out a shrill shriek as your mother gasped in surprise.

You burst into a wave of laughter doubling over as the quidditch star glared at you, clearly offended.

“You scream like a four-year-old girl Potter.” You cackled blinking back tears. 

James opened his mouth to shoot back an insult but something stopped him. You looked oddly familiar, your eyes gleamed in a recognizable fashion, your smile all too common to his view. Despite this, he had no clue who you were. 

“Merlin y/n!” the professor gasped, “That was uncalled for.”

“Sorry, mum.” You giggled, “I couldn’t help it.”

In that exact moment, James’ bain imploded. His jaw dropped, eyes growing to the size of saucers as if he had just been slapped. 

“Minnie! You have a daughter!” he gasped, completely appalled by this new information. 

“James! You have a brain!” You mimicked him, false surprise emerging on your face. 

“Y/n, be polite.” Your mother scolded although it was hard to miss the smirk on her lips. 

James wasn’t even bothered by the jeer, he was far too preoccupied with attempting to figure out what the hell was happening. 

“It’s nice to formally meet you, James.” You grinned sticking out your hand for him to take, “I’m y/n y/l/n. Minnie’s daughter” 

He shook his head quickly his hair bouncing slightly before he took your hand, which he found surprisingly soft and slightly cold, “James Potter.” He mumbled before turning to the woman who had returned to the notebook. 

“Minnie!” He shouted.

You giggled at the nickname biting your lip lightly.

McGonagall’s eyes snapped upward dangerously but at this point, James was too shocked to care. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that you had a daughter!?” He asked in complete dismay, “I thought we were friends!”

The witch simply rolled her eyes, “If you had paid any attention to those around you, you would have noticed I had a daughter years ago.” She spoke, seemingly unfazed. 

“Minniiieeee. That’s not fair.” He pouted.

McGonagall shrugged. 

“Oooo, are those quidditch notes?” You asked peering over James’ shoulder like an excited puppy. “Mind if I take a look?”

“Yeah sur-” 

“No way.” your mother interrupted eyebrows raised as she peered over her glasses at you. 

Now it was your turn to pout, “But mum.” You attempted to reason.

James choked in a breath as you widen your eyes and jutted out your bottom lip. Did you always look this adorable?

“Nu-uh.” She shook her head.

“Why not?” You whined placing your hands on the desk and leaning over it attempting to catch a glimpse of the ink-stained pages. 

“Because last time I made the mistake of letting you ‘look through’ my quidditch notes, you charmed it and gave a copy to the Ravenclaw Captain.” She huffed, closing the notebook from your prying eyes. 

James gasped again, “That was you!” 

You nodded, smirking proudly.

“We lost the quidditch cup because of that!” He heaved. 

You just shrugged, “Yeah well, we won because of it.”

He glared back at you, tucking the notebook protectively under his arm. 

“Shit!” You swore glancing at the clock behind your mother’s desk. 

“Language y/n!” 

“Sorry, mum,” You yelled over your shoulder scrambling from the room, the door thudding against its frame as it closed behind you. 

James opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by you dashing back into the room. 

“I forgot what I came here for.” You groaned, “Where is my herbology textbook?” 

McGonagall opened a drawer in her desk handing it to you.

“Thanks, mum.” You rushed as you snatched it from her and sprinted back towards the door. 

“I still can’t believe you didn’t tell me you had a daughter.” James sulked, his eyes glued to where you had resided moments before. 

McGonagal was met with a hell storm when James spread the news of his new discovery. That hell storm’s name was Sirius Black. He had crashed into her classroom while she was in the middle of a class and began his tearful act. He whined and gasped and pouted, stating his betrayal and his loss of trust. 

The professor tiredly massaged her closed eyelids as his antics continued.

    Thankfully the other marauders were surprised but lacked the same gusto Black held, although James seemed to have a sudden problem on his hands. For some reason he couldn’t seem to pull you from his head, it was like you were cemented there, your giggle rinning in his ears as your voice echoed through his head. You were strangely captivating. 

He wondered if that’s how his professor had been in her youth, although he refused to picture McGonagall as beautiful. You were simply alluring, your entire aura drawing him towards you. He wasn’t quite sure what it was but he found himself needing to be near you. He foolishly allowed himself to wonder if you thought the same of him.

Your heart pounded lightly as you snuck to the owlery, you fought a wide smile as you climbed the seemingly endless steps, taking them two at a time out of excitement.  When you finally reached the top you let out a slight squeal noticing your large barn owl perched near the door. 

You whistled once and let it land lightly on your outstretched arm. You then carefully untied the thread from his leg taking the note in your hand and dropping your arm as your owl departed. You unthreaded the scroll and began slowly down the stairs as you read it. By the second line of words, your throat went dry. You could feel your heart beginning to throb painfully as the back of your eyes began to sting. 

You sped through the remainder of the letter a sob ripping from your throat as the words sunk into your skin. Your vision blurred and you grasped at the stone wall to your right. The wind tore overhead, suddenly the pleasant breeze felt threatening. You crashed downwards, the stone step you sat on causing shivers to conquer your body. You let tears drip down your cheeks and slide off your chin as you raked your hands through your hair. Another cry unlodged itself from your throat and echoed around you. You pulled one of your hands from your hair slamming it over your mouth as you squeeze your eyes shut in mental agony. You bit your lip harshly bringing your shaking hands to your cheeks and wiping them dry. You gasped in a sharp breath blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay. Finally, you shoved the letter into your robe pocket and stood continuing down the stairs as if nothing had happened. 

You saw this coming, you thought, you knew it would, why are you so surprised?

You shake your head blinking rapidly again. You slipped into the castle feeling emptier than usual, your heart still aching, your head starting to. You ran your tongue over your lips, feeling just how dry they were. Water rose to your eyes again and you swore, leaning your head back and squeezing them shut. 

“Y/n?” 

You snapped your head forward, eyes opening wide.

“Are you okay?” James asked walking towards you, concern etched into his sharp features. 

“Uh, hey James.” You spoke attempting to sound normal and failing miserably as your voice came out in a croak. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

He didn’t believe you, he narrowed his eyes, “Are you sure?”

You coughed attempting to clear your suddenly clogged throat, “Yeah seriously, I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look like it.” He responded eyebrows still furrowed. 

“Thanks.” You muttered sarcastically attempting a small smile. 

James felt his ears grow hot, hoping you didn’t notice in the dull light of his wand, “I-I didn’t mean it like that.” he spoke quickly, “I mean you look pretty today, umm I mean you always look pretty and uhh you just look a little worn out...But like not in a bad way! Just you uhh-”

Your giggle cut his rambles short, you bite your lip looking down at your feet, “You’re fine James, I was only joking.” You mumbled.

“Oh.” He replied sheepishly his cheeks flaming. 

The hallway fell into an awkward silence, tension feeling thick, like the air on a humid day. 

James coughed uncomfortably, “Do you want me to walk you to your common room?” he asked ruffling his hair, something you had the sudden urge to do. 

“Yeah, that would be nice.” You smiled sticking your hands in your pockets. You felt the letter you stowed away in your hand and you swallowed another sob. 

The two of you walked in silence, the only noise being your shoes on the floors of the castle. 

Your mind reeled, the words replaying, still raw in your head. 

You’re always gone at that boarding school. I never even see you anymore… I don’t know y/n/n we just lost something.  

You could feel tears begin to well again, your world falling blurry.  

 I just don’t love you anymore. I’m sorry.

You couldn’t hold it back anymore. You let out a strangled whimper halting where you stood and burying your head in your hands as your body shook. 

James turned toward you in alarm, his heart throbbed as you cried into your hands attempting to muffle the sound. He stood there for a second before taking a step towards you and wrapping his arms around you shaking form. 

You leaned into his touch, your head thumping as you wailed into the boy’s chest, your hands still pressed to your face. 

“Hey, you’re okay.” James cooed as he gently ran his hand down your back, “You’re gonna be okay.” 

He continued whispering sweet nothings in your ears, until you calmed a considerable amount, your sobs turning into shaky breaths and small sniffles. 

Your face felt hot, embarrassment took you over as your head began to clear. You pushed yourself from James’ hold.

“I’m sorry,” You chocked out, “I must look pathetic right now and I barely know you and I’m a fucking mess, I’m so sorry James.” you gushed attempting to wipe your face clean. 

James looked confused, “Y/n you have nothing to apologize for.” he spoke so softly you almost swooned. 

You stood quietly shifting back and forth on your feet, unsure what you were supposed to do now.

“What happened?” James asked, “If someone hurt you y/n I will beat-”

You laughed lightly, “No one hurt me, James, I just um.” You took a large breath release it slowly, “I just got dumped.” 

James's eyes widened, “Oh.”

“Yeah,” You huffed picking at your lips, “I mean it wasn't like I didn't see it coming, we had barely seen each other at all for the past year and honestly I don't think I have loved him since then, but we were together for so long, it just hurts. And I guess I’m just scared to be alone again.” You laughed bitterly at your own self-pitying rant.

“Did he just break up with you tonight?” James asked he seemed to hold a mixture of anger and concern in his dark eyes. 

“Well umm, he’s a muggle.” You spoke awkwardly, “I just received the letter.” 

“Oh.” James mentally slapped himself for repeating that word so many times. 

You chuckled stiffly, “It really shouldn’t be that big of a deal, I mean I saw it coming, I just didn’t think it would happen this soon.” 

“Obviously it’s a big deal y/n, you can be sad after a breakup.” He smiled down at you a certain shine in his eyes telling you there was more. “Do you still have the letter by any chance?”

You tilted your head in confusion, “I do.” You answered hesitantly, “Why?” 

“Wanna burn it?” 

You never wanted to do anything more. 

The two of you sat shoulder to shoulder in the astronomy tower watching as the letter your ex-boyfriend had sent burned. You felt a sense of relief as it turned to ash, its words and meaning disintegrating before your eyes. You sighed suddenly feeling exhausted as if someone had flipped a switch and drained you of all your energy. Your eyelids became heavy, breaths became longer and soon you felt yourself drifting into a dreamless sleep. 

James felt a light pressure on his shoulder and turned to see your head resting on it. Your y/h/c hair gleamed in the light of the small fire you had created. He smiled softly carefully brushing the loose strands of y/h/c from your face. He then leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his heart thumping as his cheeks flushed red. 

He softly shook his head, what was he doing?

You and James grew surprisingly close, surprisingly quickly. It was frightening how well you got along. Whispers coated the halls of some secret relationship that blossomed between you. You always laughed it off as James grew pink and denied it entirely. 

The head boy had come to terms with his feelings for you the moment you fell asleep on his shoulder and he had been forced to carry you back to your common room solve an impossible riddle and get you in bed.  

He wasn't as smooth as he thought he was when it came to you. When he had liked other girls it was easy, he would just make a few flirtatious remarks ad then ask them out, but with you, it was complicated. 

First, there was the fact that you just got out of a two and a half year relationship. Then the fact that your mother was McGonagall. And of course, the fact that every time he tried to confess to you his words would get lodged in his throat and refuse to move. 

Day after day he told himself he would tell you, he would share the feelings that lodged themselves into his brain and heart. But as cliche, as it sounded days, turned into weeks and weeks turned into months and soon he was sitting across from you in the library thinking about how badly he wanted to push your hair from your face and decorate your neck with hickeys. 

But he kept his mouth closed cursing himself for every moment he let tick by which he didn't hold you in his arms. 

When he hit month four Sirius said he was hopeless and Remus agreed. James had become completely intoxicated by you. The dreams he had of you becoming lewd, looking you in the eyes became difficult as he could only think of how your lips would taste. 

Month five rolled around and James had decided he was hopeless, he had tried desperately to convey the message he kept bottled to you, but for being so smart you were extremely oblivious. Then the unthinkable happened. 

“James, can you stay after class please,” McGonagal asked, her voice sharp, but her eyes soft. 

James nodded numbly his mind wandering back to you, wondering if you had eaten enough for breakfast, you had slept in and only gotten there for the last five minutes. Maybe he would grab you a snack from the kitchens on his way to his next class and drop it off for you. Slughorn wouldn't mind if he was a bit late to potions.  

The class was dismissed and he stood from his seat absentmindedly standing to leave.

“James!” McGonagall called and he snapped back to attention. 

He walked up to her desk and stared at the women, deja vu making him blink rapidly. 

“I'm not going to beat around the bush Potter, I know you like my daughter,” McGonagall spoke peering at the now blushing boy over her glasses. 

James sputtered desperately for an answer, looking for a sentence to deny such a claim but he was cut off.

“James, I’m not here to hear your denial, I am here to beg you to ask her out.” 

And his brain exploded again. 

“She talks about you constantly, she cannot get out a sentence without your name being in it, it is simply ridiculous. Even worse you are getting spacey not only in the classroom but on the field. We almost lost our last game because you couldn't keep your head in the game. So please for both of your sakes, just ask her out.” McGonagall stared at the boy, looking desperate.

After a moment of silence, James spoke: “You aren’t mad that I like her?”  He chose his words carefully, not sure if he was on thin ice or not.

“No James.” The professor sighed, “If any of the boys in this school were to date her I would hope it to be you, I know you, you’re a good kid.” She admitted painfully. 

“You actually want me to ask her out?” James asked hesitantly, unsure if it was a type of test or if he was going crazy.

“Yes, James.” She huffed, “Please just do it so I don't have to hear about how adorable you look in hoodies ever again.” 

James flushed again, “Y/n said I look cute in hoodies?” 

“Oh, Merlin.” She muttered under her breath, “Just do it James.” 

And with that, he ushered him out the door. 

You hummed quietly, music blasting far too loudly through your walkman, you lay on your back a book held above your head as you thumbed through it. 

You didn't take notice of your roommate busting into the room, a giggle on her lips as she smiled brightly. 

She called out your name twice, groaning and rolling her eyes before walking over to you and plucking the headphones from your ears. 

You sent her a glare. 

“Don’t glare at me,” She huffed, “I'm just here to tell you that James Potter is waiting outside the common room for you.”

“He is?” You asked. You were pretty sure you didn't have plans with him today. 

“No, I’m making it up.” She scowled rolling her eyes. 

“Okay, okay, I'm going.” You exhaled loudly pushing yourself from the bed. 

You wandered down the spiral stairs waving to a couple of people who seemed to be staring. You noticed a few girls whispering something to each other before catching your gaze, almost looking… jealous?

You frowned before exiting the common room.

“Hey James, what’s up…”  Your voice died in your throat at the sight in front of you. There stood a blushing mess of a boy, a bouquet of bright yellow roses and daisies grasped in his hands. He was adorned in his school pants and dress shirt, a yellow hoodie thrown over it, his dark curly hair springing from underneath its hood making him look positively adorable. 

He refused to meet your eye, his cheeks so red you swear they must have been on fire.

You felt your own cheeks heat as you stared up at him, his glasses perched lazily at the end of his nose as he stared at his feet. 

He finally raised his gaze meeting your own and instantly regretted it. Your head was tilted slightly in confusion, your cheeks dusted pink, your eyes wide, shining with a doe-like innocence. You were simply stunning. 

He pushed his glasses up his nose nervously and he spoke. He spoke the words he had wanted to say for five months. 

“I think I’m in love with you.”

Your heart stopped, jaw-dropping eyes growing wider, you were left completely speechless as your mind reeled with the words he just spoke.  

James’ throat went dry and he nervously fiddled with his glasses again, “I totally get it if you don't feel the same way, I just I can't stop thinking about you, and honestly I just couldn't keep it bottled up anymore.”

You just stood there. So stunned your mouth forgot how to move. 

“Say something,” James spoke his voice practically a whimper. 

You still didn't speak, you weren't sure you trusted your words at that moment, so instead, you took two steps forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling his lips onto yours. 

The kiss was messy at first, your noses collided at the speed you pulled James towards you, his arms soon reached around you, bouquet still secured in one hand as he straightened you and plunged his tongue into your mouth. He tasted like honey and cinnamon. His scent surrounded you, the soft odor of expensive cologne and the tinge of sweat. 

You pulled away slowly lips still touching a moment after the kiss broke, breath mingling as you looked up into his deep eyes, you could feel yourself begin to fall into them, your heart pounding at an inhuman rate. 

“I love you too James.” You whispered and the smile he wore was brighter than anything you could ever imagine. 

Taglist:

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

Masterlist

#james potter x you #james potter x oc #james potter imagines #james potter x reader #james potter imagine #james potter #marauders au #marauders era fic #harry potter marauders #marauders roleplay #marauders era #marauders x you #marauders x reader #marauders imagines #marauders imagine #sirius black imagines #sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x oc #harry potter au #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter imagine #harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter ships #fluff #harry potter fanfic rec

[auroracalisto]

as fate will have it

request: Can I please request a Sweet Pea x sweet/innocent!fem!reader when soulmates meet, something important to themselves appears on their soulmate’s wrist as a tattoo. So since being a Serpent is so important to Sweet Pea, a Serpent tattoo appears on Y/n’s wrist, and since being loving is so important to Y/n, a heart would appear on Sweet Pea’s wrist. It would be especially cute if Y/n found out that she’s actually FP’s daughter/Jughead’s year younger sister (but was raised by her adoptive parents in the Northside and maybe FP didn’t know that he had another daughter because her birth mom never told him she was pregnant) because she has “Serpent blood” so it’s like it was fate.  Oooo also, I don’t know if this would be good to add to the plot, but it would also be interesting if Y/n’s adoptive parents told her she had to pick between them or FP & Jug, so an it’s us or them type of thing. Y/n picks FP, her birth dad, and her newfound older brother, Jughead, so she would go to live with them in the trailer.  — @kpopgirlbtssvt​

summary: request covers this 

word count: 2.4k words

warnings: rude parents?  adoption (idk if that’s something to trigger, but just to be safe).  being kicked out of home.  it’s also very possible that it’s ooc sweet pea BUT it’s fineeee

author’s notes: i wanted to clarify that it’s been like two years since i last saw the first season riverdale, so some things could be a little off.  the show is wack but i love the characters.  i also might have somewhat gone off from what the request was, and if i went off too much, just let me know and i will write something else!

Your friend quickly took her seat beside you, smiling.  "Did you hear?"

"Hear what?" you looked up from your book, slipping a piece of paper in between the old pages.  

She let out a soft giggle.  "Well, uh, I know you don't really care, but everyone else is busy—"

"—is that why you're talking to me?"

"Oh my god, no," she blushed.  "No, sorry, that came out totally insensitive, didn't it?  I just... okay, well, they're closing down the southside."

Your eyes widened a bit.  "What?"

"Yeah.  They're gonna consolidate the schools.  So everyone from the southside will be coming up here.  They're supposed to start coming in today.  You should try to see if anyone is your soulmate," she grinned.  

"Yeah, okay, but you've already found your soulmate," you sighed softly, standing up.  You had hardly touched your lunch at all.  From your book and the mention of your soulmate, you didn't want to touch it.  You wanted to meet your soulmate.  Oh, you wanted to love them like they deserved to be loved.  But here you were, finding it hard to believe that you had a soulmate.  

Your friend just smiled.  "You know I love you, right?"

You rose an eyebrow but you soon returned the smile.  "Yeah, yeah.  I know."

She just smiled before she rushed off, gods only know where.  

You stuffed your book back into your backpack, carrying your tray to empty it.  You needed to stop by your locker before your next class.  

Walking out of the cafeteria, you started towards your lockers.  New faces filled the hallway the farther you walked.  You could feel the anxiety start creeping into your veins, but not because of the southside—you had began to wonder if you would find your soulmate from the people who transferred.  

You sighed softly to yourself as you came to your locker—and you had even been prepared to get into it when you saw a man leaning up against it.  He was tall, his hair was dark, and he had gorgeous brown eyes.  He was talking to a short girl with streaked hair and another guy with equally dark hair.  

You cleared your throat to get the tall guy's attention and your blush only darkened as he looked over at you.  

"Would you mind moving?  You're on top of my locker..."

He stared at you for a moment before he nodded, pushing himself off from the locker.  But before he could move too far, a searing pain took over his wrist.  Just as quickly as it had came, it disappeared.  He quickly looked down at his wrist, only to realize that the same exact thing had happened to you.  And now, you were staring down at a serpent tattoo on your wrist, whereas a heart took its place on his own.  

The girl with streaks in her hair was smiling.  "Uuhhhh," she grabbed a hold of the other boy.  "Have fun," she quickly said, before leading him away.  

You blushed and looked up at the man.  "Uh—"

"—a northsider?" he asked, but he couldn't help his smile from forming.  He was about to tease you, but he couldn't help his happiness.  He finally found his soulmate.  "Do you know how much hell I'm gonna get for this?"

Your blush only darkened.  "I—I, well," you breathed out, but your own smile spread across your face.  "That's exciting.  I still need to get in my locker."  You were buzzing with happiness.  The boy moved out of the way and you quickly got into it, looking up at him.  He was far taller than you.  You couldn't help the grin that showed up.  

"I'm Sweet Pea," he said.  

You blushed.  "That's cute."  He rose his eyebrows.  "I mean—" you let out an awkward laugh.  "My name is [Your name]."

"It's nice to meet you, [Your name]," he blushed a bit.  He just smiled.  He would have said more, but his name was shouted from across the hallway.  He looked at you and bit his lip, before he suddenly grabbed your arm, taking a permanent marker from your locker.  He wrote down his number before he looked up at you and grinned.  "Text me, okay?"

You blushed and nodded, before you watched him leave.   

[]

That night, you were too excited to tell your parents about your day.  You finally found your soulmate.  And he was totally attractive.  And worth your love.  You had decided this just moments after he grabbed your arm to write his number down.  It felt like the stars were aligned, just for you.  Perhaps that's what it felt like when you found your soulmate—like nothing could go wrong.  

But as you walked in to your home, dropping your backpack to the floor, it was dead silent.  You walked into the dining room, seeing your parents sitting there with a couple of papers laying out.  Your mother was close to tears, but your father seemed angry.  He cleared his throat as he saw you.  

"[Your name].  Sit."

You did as you were told, beginning to frown.  You looked at your mom.  "What's going on?"

"[Your name].  Remember how we told you we had adopted you?"

You looked at your dad and nodded.  "Of course.  But that doesn't matter... because you're both my parents.  What's this about?"

"Your mother."  

You quickly looked at her, frowning.  

"Your mother fabricated a couple of papers.  She wanted a baby so badly that she would lie about who you belonged to just so she could have you."

"What?"

"You belong to FP," your dad said, staring down your mother.  You always knew that your father didn't like southsiders, but this was odd.  

"I don't belong to anyone, dad—"

"—don't," he said, frowning at you.  "Your mother decided that it was okay to adopt the child of a gang leader.  She put us in danger.  Your sister.  Your grandparents."

"What—they've never hurt anyone," you frowned at the man.  "Why would she have endangered them if they swear against violence like that—"

"—you'd be surprised," he snorted through his nose.  He clenched his jaws before he handed you the papers.  Before you could grab them, he just dropped them in front of you.  You picked one up, seeing your real birth certificate.  Your birth mother was listed, and then so was your birth father.  Your father was right—FP Jones was listed as your birth father.  

Your face paled and you looked up at him.  "What is this?  What are you trying to tell me?"

"Choose."

"Excuse me?"

"Choose.  The Jones.  Or us."

You looked over at your mother in disbelief.  "What happens if I choose you?"

"We will forbid you from talking with the Jones."

You blinked a couple of times, confusion washing over you.  "But if they're my biological family, I'd like to know them—"

"—if that's the case," your father frowned, "just go and live with them."

You stared at him, feeling your heart beat rushing in your ears.  You quickly got to your feet.  Your mother wasn't defending you.  Your father was kicking you out.  It only took a few moments for you to decide that you would leave.  You quickly rushed to the front door, grabbing your bag.  But not before you had grabbed the papers your father had sat in front of you.  The proof was in the ink—literally.  

You pulled your backpack onto your back, looking down at the papers as you pulled out your phone.  

It had been literal years since you last talked to Jughead Jones.  You had his contact, still.  At least, the one he had whenever the two of you were friends in your seventh grade year.  You began to hope that the stars were aligned for you once more as you clicked on the contact and listened to it ringing.  By the fourth ring, you were prepared to turn your phone off, but you almost gasped as you heard Jughead's voice.  

"Shh," you heard Jughead, before he said hello.  

"Jughead?  Uh, it's [Your name]—"

"—yeah, I have your contact."

"Right," you blushed.  "I, uh," you cleared your throat.  "Do you mind if I swing by your house?  I need to talk to your dad."

You didn't mention the fact that you had just been kicked out of your home.  That could come at a later point in time.  

Jughead blinked a couple of times and he leaned back in his seat.  "Yeah, of course.  When will you be here?"

"In about an hour," you said.  

"Alright.  See you then?"  

With that, he hung up.  He looked over at Sweet Pea, Fangs, and Toni.  

"Who was that?" Sweet Pea asked.  

"[Your name]."

[] 

You hadn't anticipated the walk to Jughead's house, but you still remembered the way.  It had taken you the full hour to get there from your house.  But you were there.  As you walked up to the trailer, you noticed two motorcycles parked by Jughead's dad's truck.  You walked up the stairs and knocked on the door.  You probably looked a mess—from the walk and from the cold air, you were sure you were as red as the red lipstick you always had stuffed in the bottom of your book bag.  

The door began to open and you quickly greeted Jughead, only stopping short when you realized Sweet Pea had answered.  

He smiled at you.  "Hi."

You began to blush and you smiled.  "Hi..."  

He moved out of the way and let you inside.  FP was in the living room, and he looked over at you, confused.  

"What has it been?" he asked, beginning to smile.  "Three years?"

"Four, sir," you weakly smiled.  

FP took notice and he tilted his head.  Sweet Pea frowned and led you over to sit down.  He looked at the papers in your hands as he sat on the edge of the armchair you sat on.  His eyes widened and he quickly looked over at Jughead and his father.  

"I... I wanted to tell you about this.  I don't... do you remember a Julie Harding?"

FP blinked harshly before he nodded.  "Yes."

You took in a deep breath as you looked down at the papers.  "She's my birth mother."

Jughead looked at you with a frown.  "You were adopted?"

You nodded towards him and handed FP your papers.  He took one look at the birth certificate and he looked up at you in disbelief.  "Are you serious?"

You weakly smiled, once more.  "They kicked me out when they realized you were my birth dad."

Sweet Pea's jaw was locked as he looked at you.

FP frowned.  "Well.  You're always welcome here.  I...  I can't believe this," he said.  His frown soon formed into a smile.  "I have another daughter," he breathed out.  

Jughead looked at the papers for a moment.  "We're siblings?"

"I guess so," you began to smile as well.  

Sweet Pea watched you for a moment.  You were always filled with smiles.  You were always happy, even in moments like this.  It astounded him, but he knew that he needed that in his life.  He knew that the stars were truly aligned in just the right way.  

He suddenly took a hold of your hand and you laced your fingers with his, blushing.  Sure, your parents hurt you.  But you took one look around the trailer and you realized that these people were the ones that you could truly make a family out of.  

[]

Two months down the road, you were still asking Sweet Pea to move out of the way so you could get into your locker.  But instead of him staring at you the entire time, he would just kiss your cheek or your forehead, or even your lips, and move to stand on the other side.  Which side truly depended on his mood, just like where he kissed you.  

Every time you would see Jughead, he would greet you with a smile and a short conversation, but when the two of you were with your new friends, you were truly yourself.  You found comfort in the serpents.  You found comfort in your biological family, and with your soulmate, Sweet Pea.  

Sweet Pea stood by your locker, his arms crossed over his chest as he saw you walk down the hall.  He couldn't help his frown from turning into a smile.  Before you could ask him to move, he leaned forward to kiss your cheek.  He quickly took your books and stuffed them in your already opened locker—Toni had memorized your combination and he asked her to unlock it for him.  

He took your hand.  "Come on.  I have a surprise for you."

You rose an eyebrow but you laced his fingers with his.  You tried to protest when you realized that he was about to lead you out of the school, but you stopped yourself.  FP wouldn't berate you for skipping a couple of classes.  

Sweet Pea brought you over to his motorcycle and her turned to look at you, smiling.  "Wear this," he said, handing you his helmet.  

You just blushed and did as you were told before you got onto the back of the sleek bike.  You wrapped your arms around his torso and he put on his helmet before he started his motorcycle and took off.  He drove fast, but not dangerously.  In a matter of minutes, the two of you were back at FP's trailer.  Sweet Pea helped you off and took a hold of both of your hands.  

"What—"

"I don't have anything to show you.  I just... know that your birthday is coming up soon and I wanted to celebrate alone while we can."

You blushed and gently shoved his shoulder.  

"Not that," he laughed.  "Get your mind out of the gutter.  Nah, I wanted to have a movie marathon with you, but if that's what you want—"

"—movie marathon," you blushed, taking a hold of his hand once more.  He smiled and led you into the trailer.  

He stopped in the doorway to look at you, just taking in your beauty.  He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

"Did I ever tell you how thankful I am that you're my soulmate?" he asked.

You just blushed and shook your head as he let out a soft laugh and hugged onto you.  

Your soulmate acted tough in public—but around you and in private, he was a softy.  Your heart melted every time you saw him, and actions like this only strengthened your love for the man.  You wrapped your arms around his neck and smiled.  

"I love you, Sweet Pea."

His eyes widened as he heard the words, but his smile never left him.  

"I love you, too, [Your name]."

#sweet pea x reader #sweet pea #x reader #reader insert #gender neutral reader? #riverdale #riverdale x reader #one-shot #fp jones #jughead jones #y/n jones #soulmate #soulmate au

[seokjinsdisciple]

Riddikulus - fifteen

jungkook x reader, hogwarts!au, enemies to lovers!au

Warnings: language, memory loss, talks of break ups, bullying lowkey, kinda fluffy at the end

Word Count: 1.7k

this update is trash and i hate it

THIS IS UNEDITED

<previous  fifteen  next>

series masterlist

taglist: @nellaphine @elixirguks @softfluffgirl @sensiblebutch, @deolly, @zeharilisharaban, @jungshookmeup, @elliegrace1999tvd, @mybiasforsure, @minsugapie, @betysotelo18, @purpleheartsfortae, @annoyingpessimist

IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO BE ON THE TAGLIST SEND ME A DM OR AN ASK

“So here’s the deal,” Tae started, sitting on the couch in the Room of Requirement, “As far as I can tell, we can’t undo the spell without seriously fucking up her brain.”

“Like how badly?” Namjoon groaned, burying his head in his hands. 

“Like mush,” Tae said, shrugging as Hobi elbowed him. 

“So we can’t do anything?” Yoongi said, letting his head hit the back of the couch. 

“Not that I could find,” Tae said quietly, a sigh leaving his mouth as Jungkook walked in. 

“Sorry I’m late,” he said, walking over to a nearby arm chair, “When I told Madame Pomfrey what happened she made me talk to the headmaster.”

“And what’d he say?” Hobi perked up. 

“Well good news is that Seonghwa is being expelled,” he started, watching as some of the tension in the room was lessened, “Jin lost Gryffindor 150 house points though!”

“Seriously Kook? That’s what you’re worried about?” Jimin asked. 

“Sorry, it’s just,” He started, running a nervous hand through his hair, “Gryffindor hasn’t lost the house cup since I’ve been in school.”

“Can we focus please?” Namjoon asked, shooting an irritated glare to Jungkook., “What did he say about the memory charm?”

“He said if any one of us tries to remove it he’ll take our wands and make sure we never practice magic again,” Jungkook grimaced, “He said its impossible to undo, and if she really wanted that memory gone, it was none of our business.”

“So we just sit here and pretend everything’s fine?” Yoongi asked, an incredulous look on his face.

“At least he’s getting expelled,” Hobi said, leaning against Yoongi’s side.

“I think I’d kill him myself if he wasn’t,” Namjoon muttered, giving Tae an appreciative smile as he leaned over and started rubbing his shoulders. 

“Jin’s a mess, Joon,” Hobi added, “You should really talk to him.”

“I just can’t right now,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes with the palm of his hand, “I can’t believe he would do something like this without even telling me she was thinking about it.  I just need some space from him for a while.”

“We can respect that,” Yoongi spoke up, “But don’t forget that you’re madly in love with each other and literally soulmates. One mistake doesn’t change that.”

The boys huddled around Namjoon as his shoulders shook, the feelings of the day finally catching up with him as he let his tears fall freely. The boys stayed like that for a while, comforting each other as worries and concerns kept coming up. When they finally called it a night, they all went their separate ways, no one noticing Jungkook heading in the direction of the hospital wing. 

--

You woke up in time for your first class, thanks to Jungkook tossing one of your shirts at your head. 

“Get up,” he said, running his hands through his extremely unkempt hair. 

“Did you sleep here?” you asked with a yawn, stretching your arms before sliding out of the bed. 

“Yeah, I didn’t want Seonghwa messing with you while you slept,” he said, throwing off his dirty shirt and pulling a clean one out of his bag. You couldn’t help but gulp as you set eyes on his abs, eyes roaming the expanse of his bare skin, “Stop staring at me and get dressed.”

You shot him a glare as you spun around, heat filling your body at his laugh. You threw your shirt off, your bare back on display as you shimmied your pants off.  You smiled a little to yourself as his breath hitched from behind you, a strained cough leaving his lips as you pulled on your shirt. Two could play at that game. 

You turned to face him, an innocent look replacing your smile, “Jungkookie can you hand me a skirt?”

“Um, I-, what?”

“Do you mind handing me my skirt?” you repeated, smiling widely now at his flushed face. His eyes looking at everything else in the room but you. 

“I-uh yeah. I can definitely do that. Skirt,” he blushed harder, quickly reaching into the bag beside him and handing you the skirt that was in there, his head turned the other way. 

“Thanks, Kook,” you laughed, pulling on your skirt. You slipped your shoes on, throwing your hair into a bun before turning back to where he stood. 

“Ready?” he asked, hand scratching the back of his head. 

“Yeah, I’m ready,” you said, “Let’s do this.”

Jungkook escorted you to your classes, along with Jimin, for the rest of the day. Whispers following you wherever you went. You half expected your classmates to be understanding about this whole thing, but based on the whispers you had been hearing, it seemed like whatever happened was getting blamed on you.  You shouldn’t have been that shocked. 

“How did they even find out about this?” Jimin hissed,  shooting a glare at a third year Gryffindor who had said some pretty shitty things. 

“I don’t know,” Jungkook said, “No one else knew about this besides the 7 of us and Seonghwa.  And since he got kicked out this morning I doubt he told anyone.”

The three of you kept walking towards the library, silently pondering how the hell the whole school found out about your erased memory. 

“This is giving me a headache,” you groaned, pushing the doors open. 

“Don’t hurt your brain, please,” Jungkook said, “I need it for when we study potions.”

“I’ll try to figure this all out while you guys study,” Jimin said, waving you two into the library and hurrying down the hallway. 

“Well, there’s no point in wasting time then,” you said, “we’ve been slacking off, Kook.”

“I know,” he sighed, sitting down at your usual table, “and exams are only two weeks away.”

“You’ll do ok,” You said, smiling reassuringly at him, “You have me as a tutor, how could you fail?”

His nose scrunched, fake disgusted face as he snorted at you, “That doesn’t reassure me at all, princess.”

You kicked him under the table, a smile growing on your face as he laughed. You started pulling your books out, quill and ink soon following.  Glancing at Jungkook as he bent down to do the same. 

He looked as handsome as he normally did, hair messy in all of the perfect ways. Your heartbeat sped up the more you looked at him, and how far the two of you had come. A few months ago you would have never been caught dead sitting across from him in the library three days of the week. But now you were starting to enjoy his company, and honestly, you considered him a friend. 

“Are you gonna teach me potions or just stare at me today?” his voice drew you from your thoughts, cocky grin back on his face as he shot you a wink. 

“Shut up,” you mumbled, directing him to turn his book to a certain page, and the two of you got to work.

It was a comfortable silence, only talking when Jungkook asked you a question about the work or when the two of you took breaks. With tired, ink covered hands scrawling the last words of your homework you sagged in your seat. You let out a big yawn, glancing at where Jungkook still sat, hard at work. Looking through his potions notes. 

“Jungkook,” you whispered, “I think that’s enough for the night.”

“Mh,” he hummed noncommittally, eyes never leaving his notes. 

“You’re not listening to me!” you exclaimed, mouth pulling into a smirk, “You’re the worst quidditch player I’ve ever seen.”

You paused, waiting for him to have some sort of reaction, but he sat still reading, scratching his forehead. 

“You have a tiny dick,” you said, pouting as he sat with a blank face, “You’re not half bad,” you said, last ditch effort to get him to respond in any way. 

Jungkook just smiled, putting his notes down before looking at you, “I’m the best quidditch player at Hogwarts, you wouldn’t know anything about my dick, and you’re not half bad yourself, snake princess. Now if you’re done trying to get my attention, we really should get going.”

You scowled at him, putting your materials away as he teased you. 

“How was I supposed to know you could hear me?” you whined, pouting as Jungkook tugged your bag into his arms. 

“I responded to you the first time!” Jungkook laughed, holding the library door open for you. 

“You hummed! That’s totally not an answer!”

“Maybe not to you,” he grinned, ignoring the pout the was firmly set on your face, “Ah, c’mon, Princess. Who would I be if I didn’t mess with you at least a little bit?”

“A decent human being,” you grumbled, ignoring his laugh as you turned the corner to the dungeons, not even realizing Jungkook had walked you back, “You didn’t have to walk me back.”

“It’s no big deal,” he said, handing you your bag and stuffing his hands in his pockets. 

“I know I don’t remember everything that happened,” you started, his doe eyes softening, “but I really feel safe around you, Kookie. I was thinking we could try to be friends?”

“Just friends?” he asked, tilting his head to the side, “But what if I want to be more than just friends, princess?”

You swear your heart stopped in the moment, his cocky grin enough to stop it beat in its tracks. Your eyes fluttering shut as he started leaning in. 

“Goodnight, princess,” He whispered, voice ghosting on the shell of your ear. You jumped at his voice, eyes opening quickly at the realization that he was not about to kiss you.

When he leaned back, you could’ve slapped the smug grin he had on his face right off, hand coming out to give you a wave as he spun on his heels. 

You trudged into the common room, ignoring the taunts of your classmates and walking right past Jimin and Yoongi. Giddy smile never leaving your lips even as your head hit your pillow. 

It was the best you had slept in weeks.

#jungkook x reader #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #jungkook hogwarts au #gryffindor!jungkook #jungkook #bts hogwarts au #bts smut #bts fluff #bts fanfic #bts fic #bts

[mammoney-honey]

Summoning Circles: What to Offer the Brothers GN!MC

MC doesn’t need to set up anything to summon them since they have their pact but sometimes its just nice to add a bit of drama. It’s also a good way to get the brothers to accept Just Because gifts. So what would would MC lay out as an offering for their favorite demon in their pentagram?

Lucifer

Lucifer is hard to get gifts for because hes a man of few words and fewer guilty pleasures

MC does their best to keep an eye out for things he does like and finally sets things up when they feel that Luci needs a bit of a break

They mostly offer things that would make for a good date night but with one small exception: special gourmet dog treats 

He won’t admit it, he says Cerberus is just a well trained guard dog, but that big boy gets only the best and MC knows that Lucifer will appreciate the gesture

The rest is all about setting the mood so Lucifer couldn’t possibly say no to staying

The first thing to accomplish this is the finest bottle of hellfire aged wine, a special request put through to Diavolo for whatever he thought Lucifer would like most

And to accompany a good drink you need some good food as well. A charcuterie board supplied with recommendations from Barbatos and Luke. The little guy should be called a mouse rather than a dog with how much he loves cheese. It took a long time for him to stop talking about it

One of the things that MC looks most fondly on of their time with Lucifer was quiet nights in listening and dancing to new music. They didn’t always share the same tastes but they were always willing to give it a go

So MC would find a vinyl, the only thing Lucifer would listen to the purest that he is, of their most recent favorite song or band so that they could share it with him

The last thing offered is that which Lucifer would want above all else as his own, MC

They can think of nothing else that would gain Lucifer’s attention more than offering their full and complete self. His pride could never allow him to deny taking MC when they offer themselves so willingly

He appears in full demon form, he can’t think of who would be ballsy enough to try and summon him and he has to pull back on his full power once he sees its MC

“MC, my dearest love, the pageantry is appreciated but overall unneeded. All you ever have to do is call my name, all I wish is to hear my name on your lips. But now that I’m here lets make sure you are screaming it”

Mammon

He is another one who is hard to gift things to but for the opposite reason as Lucifer. He likes too many things, wants everything and so it makes it impossible to tell what would actually mean something to him

MC tries their best to lay out things that will show how much they love and appreciate their favorite demon

Money of course is the first thing that is set out but not just spare Grimm or human cash

No, MC will put gift cards out for Mammon’s favorite places or for a date that they can have together. It feels more personal that way and they hope it shows that they pay attention to the things he likes

Mammon has a wardrobe to rival Asmo’s but he insists that it all has to do with his job as a model. Gotta keep up appearances and all that yanno. Hes just a label whore though and everyone knows it

He also just melts at the idea that MC might be thinking of what he would look good in so if they put out a new outfit or accessory, even if its just new sunglasses or a belt, he just about explodes

He will scoff and say that hes not sure if human styles are really his thing but of course puts whatever it is on quickly

Next would be a very special edition of the TSL dvds, a directors cut that even Levi couldn’t get his hands on. He has watched it with MC so many times he could practically recite it but they were always borrowing from Levi so it was about time to start wearing out their own copy

The last two things are more personal, something that shows just how much MC thinks of and misses being with him

The first of that is MC’s favorite set of pictures they took with Mammon, a silly photo booth strip that captured their first kiss. MC had surprised him on the first snapshot and it showed a progression of him getting redder and redder before finally kissing them back

Lastly is a page from their diary, as intimate an offering as they can possibly give. Its from a day where the longing for Mammon was at its strongest and filled with sweet words of how much they miss their first man

Mammon is freaked out at first thinking he is being summoned by another witch and is confused to see MC before taking it all in

“H-hey you don’t have to go through all this. I mean of course The Great Mammon won’t say no to the the things he deserves but ... b-but you only ever need to say my name, there is no where I’d rather be than with you”

Levi

Levi has a bad habit of just buying whatever he wants but considering that he has so many fandom’s its not hard to find some piece or another he doesn’t have 

MC feels like his brothers don’t give much thought to his gifts though, just typing in a name they know and getting whatever they find. They want to give him something more personal and can’t just be bought and shipped in two days

MC starts to watch a lot of craft, cooking and cosplay YouTubers to try and put everything together themselves. It felt more genuine that way at least to them

MC tries to keep things diverse, hitting a couple of Levi’s favorites but mostly avoiding anything Ruri related since they are afraid of messing it up lmao

Instead they focus on the anime’s and games that they watched and played together. Almost like a collection of inside jokes that they are using to summon him

The first thing MC sets out is a prettily decorated plate of macrons, doing their best to replicate the colors and flavors described in the one bakery time management game they always played

MC also went through Levi’s super secret fanfiction accounts I will fight you he is totally a fic writer because he has so many self inserts and fix it fics  and wrote out comments for every single thing he had written. They printed them out not because they didn’t think he read them but to show that they were the ones that left them

Along with the comments MC also created art for Levi’s most beloved OC, creating cute enamel pins of them in chibi form with the cannon character he paired them with

 The last two things came as a sort of combo, a couples cosplay from the romance anime they had watched together. The protagonist had been a shut in otaku who had found his soulmate when they were reborn into his world and Levi had latched onto him immediately 

It had taken a lot of blood sweat and tears trying to get both of the outfits cannon perfect but damn it MC was not going to settle for anything less

At one point they forgot they were making it for Levi and just got caught up in the the drama that was finding the perfect buttons and trim color

Overall they were so proud of the sewing skills they just wanted to call on him the moment they were done so he could see but they got a hold of themselves so they could set up what they had planned

Levi was summoned into the circle still wearing his headset and fingers tapping at a controller that had been left behind

His demon side comes out at having been cost a serious match from the sounds of it but his anger turns to confusion at seeing MC and then into wide eyed amazement at all of the things in front of him

He started to gush about every single thing he saw before he realized that MC was there beaming at him 

“You went through all this trouble to prove that you aren’t a normie and yet you summon me this way?? J-just say my name like you’re supposed to! I kind of like hearing you say it anyway ...”

Satan

Satan surprisingly doesn’t like being the center of attention and thus doesn’t really like surprises or receiving gifts. He also doubts that anyone understands him enough to give him what he wants cocky ass that he is

The idea for the things to set out in his summoning circle came to MC when discussing love potions with Satan and Solomon one day. They were talking about how smell plays such a strong part and Satan let slip some of the things he might smell after MC listed some of theirs

So while MC doesn’t have much, well any, experience in magic or potions they do want to try to stir up those feelings those smells produce in Satan

The first thing he had said came as a surprise to no one, the smell of parchment and ink

MC used each of them as their own separate offering on the pentagram. They used a fancy new calligraphy quill dipped in green ink that matched his eyes to write a long love note for him

The ink was still wet on the parchment that they set down and left the quill and remaining ink as the second gift

The next thing he mentioned was another one MC expected: tea leaves

So MC just walked into their local tea shop and let their nose lead the way. Anything that caught their attention or made them want to keep smelling they bought, creating their own special blend just for Satan

It wasn’t necessarily something that Satan would say for himself but MC had started to burn different candles in their room when he would come to rant when he was angry, trying to find a scent that he could associate with being calm when they helped him work through the anger

Whatever candle seemed to work the best is the candle that MC sets out for him. Probably something woodsy, pine or balsam or even sandalwood. It brings back good memories for MC, kissing all those worries of his away and hopes it does the same

The last item is one that made MC blush when they heard Satan admit it, he had liked the scent of their shampoo

He hadn’t said that specifically but he had closed his eyes and described a scent that he couldnt place but that he adored and when MC was taking their shower that night it clicked 

It might have been a little lame, leaving a bottle of shampoo out for Satan but MC knew that when he realized what that scent he loved so much was that he would get the cutest blush

They weren’t disappointed when they summoned Satan. He hid his shock of being summoned this way well, taking his time to walk around the circle and examine each offering. He immediately knew where they had gotten the inspiration and teased them about being such a sap

He stopped when he got to the shampoo though, not sure how that fit into the equation until he smelled it. It dawned on him and there was that blush that he tried to hide by turning his face away

“You always did like to make things difficult on yourself didn’t you? I’m only ever a call away for you kitten. Now come here and let me really breath you in, you’re simply intoxicating to me and I can’t stay away.”

Asmo

Asmo is never shy about when he doesn’t like gifts that people have given him but he has only ever cherished what MC has gotten him. Every small trinket and gift he has on full display in his room and he will wear something that MC got them when he misses them the most

He also will do it when he wants to bother his brothers and show off that MC simply lavished him in gifts (Mammon and Levi are the only ones who fall for it lmao)

So MC decides to offer Asmo things that will allow him to parade around their love for him, things to keep them close when MC isn’t there

The first thing that MC gets Asmo is new nail polish, a color that they agonized over finding because they wanted it to match his eyes perfectly

Asmo has a very organized planner, its how he keeps track of all the events he is invited to, when he has dates, who hes slept with, who hes going to sleep with and everything in between

MC commissions custom made stickers for him so he can decorate the pages of his planner even more. Specifically a whole sheet of cute stickers of them together he could use for when they planned date nights

The next thing was something for Asmo’s room which he was always changing and refreshing so it looked forever interesting for Devilgram pics

MC gets a large print of Asmo’s favorite picture of them together and puts it in a beautiful frame that perfectly matched his favorite decorating style. Perfect to show to the world that Asmo was their favorite demon and that they looked so good together

And so they can take even more pictures of themselves together MC buys a Polaroid camera for Asmo. His phone will always be his favorite thing to take pics on but this way they could have them printed instantly and it continues to let him be trendy

Lastly MC gets Asmo a necklace. A dainty rose gold chain that he can wear with practically everything and with a diamond accented heart shaped locket that could easily be tucked away if needed. It was an enchanted locket, thanks to the help of Solomon, and it warmed when MC was thinking of him

Its the first thing Asmo grabs and quickly puts on, showing it off for MC

“Oh MC you are simply the cutest thing I have ever seen~ I’m sorry I don’t have something to give you in return. I hope the fact that my heart beats only for you will make up for it, now come here I’ve been without kisses too long.”

Beel

Its SO hard not to just grab whatever is in the kitchen at the time and throw it in the summoning circle and call it a day for Beel

But he is more than just his hunger and MC is always striving to show him that they understand that 

It was harder than expected, just because asking anyone what Beel might want always got them food answers. They thought Belphie might be helpful but only got told “he probably just wants a nap ... its what I would want”

MC starts to think of all the most special moments they had with Beel, trying to think what about them made them so memorable and they knew for a fact that it wasn’t the food

The first thing they come up with is a banner that MC made to cheer him on at one of his games. It had gotten a little tattered and torn because it had rained that day but they just couldn’t let it go

Mostly because Beel after winning had ran up into the stands and kissed them for the first time. It wasn’t as if they hadn’t ever kissed but they had always been the one to make the first move but this time Beel had come to them. Of course in the biggest gesture possible

It was cheating a little bit offering a cookbook, it was still food related, but it felt better than putting in actual food 

This particular cookbook was special to MC too, they had spent several months trying to recreate one of the recipes from it down in the Devildom when MC didn’t have it. Even their D.D.D had been no help in finding the human world dish they were trying so hard to recreate

It had finally been Beel who had found someplace that sold the food they had been craving. He had even been able to bring it back completely untouched just so that they could have it all though he didn’t complain when they offered him several bites from their fork

MC pulls the next thing from their own shelves at home, a well read copy of Lord of the Flies. The spine cracked and little notes about their favorite parts scribbled in the margin

It was one of the human novels that Satan had and one of MCs favorites from school. Beel had caught them reading it and thought the title was ironic but the more he watched MC get engrossed in reading the more curious he got

He eventually asked MC to read it to him, he actually liked books even if most didn’t take him for the type it was just that he had a hard time actually reading himself. He always got distracted by food but audio books always worked well for him when he was working out, it turned out to be even better when MC read to him when he was eating

It was the best of both worlds for him and he found the story actually pretty funny, slightly worrying MC but they figured they couldn’t blame a demon for getting enjoyment out of a story like that. He did find their lack of food concerning though so at least there was that

One of the things that Beel often complained about when MC was living in the devildom was that when he went to go eat they weren’t always there. Sure Beel would ask them to tag along whenever possible but it didn’t always happen. He would call them from the kitchen at times and tell them that he missed them

MC was sure the other brothers would have something to say about it but knew that Beel would genuinely enjoy the next thing MC offered. Amagnet with his favorite picture of them. It was MC caught in a candid he took, mid bite in a dessert he had made them and his hand could just be seen wiping some whipped cream off MC’s cheek

It was a way that Beel could have MC with him at his favorite place every time

The last thing that MC laid out was something that was inspired by Beel. He had once given them a coupon for a free meal by him and they had thought it was just about the cutest thing ever

They made him a whole coupon book of favors ranging from cooking any meal he wanted to recording his workouts for him and of course lots of coupons for hugs and kisses

Beel isn’t used to being summoned at all so hes slightly disoriented when he finds himself suddenly in the human world. As soon as he sees MC though its nothing but smiles and he doesn’t even notice the gifts until after

“MC did you know I was thinking about you? Sometimes I just say your name and hope you will appear ... so if you ever think of me just say my name. I want to be here, even if its during dinner” 

Belphie

Belphie is not one to beat around the bush at all. He is a creature of habit and just wants more of the same things that he already has. Dont fix something if its not broke right?

So its fairly easy to fill his summoning circle with things that he loves, just adding to his ever growing collection of happy nap time things

That isn’t to say that MC just grabs whatever blanket or pillows they have laying around, they still want it to be special for him

So yes the first two things they offer to Belphie is a pillow and blanket, there was never going to be anything else but MC spent a long time putting their love into finding just the right ones for him ... and still couldn’t find what they wanted

MC used this as an excuse to create something themselves for their sleepy boy. They dived deep into youtube and pintrest and spent more money than they care to admit on materials until finally they made what they wanted

The first was a quilt large enough for three cause the twins like to make MC a sandwich in a cow print pattern that matched his pillow and demon form marks, lined with the softest fabric she could find that was the same purple as his eyes 

His pillow was another quilted design, this time of a cloudy night sky with a sleepy cow jumping over the moon. MC stitched his name in pretty gold thread on the back long with a sweet ‘I love you’

There was one last fluffy thing to give to him, this one MC knew he would probably scoff and tease them about but they couldn’t help it. They saw the angry looking cow plushie and just could not walk away 

They have actually been sleeping with it when they miss him most and even if he doesn’t like the plushie the fact they have slept with it so much will make him a bit fonder of it

Even though they were pretty sure that Belphie knew every star in the sky MC couldn’t help but get a book with stories about the constellations. He might already know them all but they thought that he might still enjoy hearing them read to him as he drifted to sleep

The last thing MC has to offer him is also star related. A star map of the day that they made their pact. It was the day that MC had fully forgiven everything that had happened before and their relationship had truly began

When Belphie was summoned he was half asleep but knew who it must be even in his sluggish state. He gave a big yawn and looked around at all the things around him 

“At least things are already set up for the perfect nap, including having you. MC next time just say my name alright? Its much more of a drag this way ... and I want to know when you are dreaming of me”

#obey me #obey me hc #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me belphie