#Found this little doodle I did a while ago in my sketchbook and decided to add some color | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

mandoalorian · 3 years

Note

Hi 👋 hope your staying safe! Can I request something with Santi, please? Could you write something where Santi and reader used to be friends as kids, Santi having looked out for reader when she was picked on or if she fell over at school, but then after he graduated they lost contact until years later reader reaches out to him randomly and they reunite, maybe fall in love??

Sorry if it's strange, I'm going through something similar but I'm trying to get the guts to reach out to the guy, it's nerve wracking!! 😳😨 Maybe reading something will give me a boost 😂

Tinder [Santiago Garcia x F!Reader]

Word count: 1,700

Rating: 18+ I guess? I don’t know. Nothing explicit, it’s just Tinder is an 18+ app.

Warnings: food mention, tinder mention, allusions to sex

Masterlist

Tinder. It was so tedious. An app that had gained it’s reputation for being nothing more than a “hookup app” or even a “sex app”. It was associated with superficiality and laced with sexual innuendos. It was the app that had been accused of igniting modern day hookup culture. It was the app that Santiago Garcia frequented every damn day. The man even paid a premium! It was a quick and easy way for him to meet girls for drinks and a quick fuck. It’s all a man like Santiago had time for. Falling in love wasn’t an option for him. It was something he’d never considered until Games Night last week.

Once upon a time, Will’s small living room was just filled with him, Santiago, Frankie, Benny and Tom, but the head count had grown extensively over the past few years. Tom had reconciled with Molly, Yovanna and Benny had something going on, and now even Frankie was engaged to the blonde haired, blue eyed girl who sat quietly in the corner sipping tea and doodling in her sketchbook.

Santiago didn’t mind the girls. In fact, he actually enjoyed their company, but their presence only had him yearn for something more. He’d never been one to think about settling down or starting a family of his own, but he felt an indirect pressure. Maybe trying out one long term relationship wouldn’t be so bad after all? But he was so used to his flings. How was he ever going to grow out of his commitment issues and find someone he could really connect with.

Truthfully, he’d already found her, about fifteen years ago.

You and Santiago Garcia were the best of friends. You used to do everything together; walking home from school hand in hand, singing and dancing when you thought no one was around, playing LEGO and building up jigsaw’s. He was your soulmate, in every sense of the word. But you can’t stay young forever and eventually Santiago left your small neighbourly town to join the military. And you never saw him again.

Which is why it was a surprise when you, half asleep at 2 am, and drooling on your pillow, lazily swiped right on his profile. You weren’t even paying attention. Just another tanned skin man with dark brown hair and chocolate eyes. It was a haze, and your desperation to move on from your ex boyfriend had you yearning to meet someone new. You groaned tiredly, deciding you were never going to find someone as good as your ex, switched your phone off and shoved it under your pillow before finally getting some sleep.

At around 3 am, Santiago still wasn’t asleep, thanks to his roommate Frankie and his fiancée keeping probably the whole apartment complex awake. He pulled out his phone from his nightstand and checked Tinder. That’s when he saw you. Before even checking your name, he could tell it was you by that familiar sparkle in your eyes, and the way your perfect lips curled into a smile. It might have been fifteen years since he’d last seen you, but just looking at your photo made it feel like yesterday. He couldn’t contain his wide grin as he flicked through your photos. You looked just as beautiful as ever, and Santiago recalled the crush he had on you when you were both kids. He wondered how come you hadn't settled down already. He knew you always dreamed of getting married and having kids, with a big house and a big dog. So why were you on Tinder?

In a simple spur of the moment, Santiago swiped right.

‘It’s a match!’ the words blew up on Santiago’s screen and illuminated the dark bedroom. Streamers and confetti exploded around your photo; the typical thing that always happened when he matched with women on Tinder, only now it actually felt like celebrating. This meant that you must’ve swiped right on him too.

You spent the morning the same way you always did, laying in bed and checking the notifications on your different social media. Just before you were about to get up, you remembered how you’d impulsively installed Tinder the night before and, on a whim, you opened the app to see if you had matched with anyone.

You scrolled through the eight matches you’d gained through the night, frowning and twisting your face in disgust at some of the profiles. You really hadn’t been paying attention to who you were swiping.

Your eyes went comically wide when you read the name at the end of the list.

‘You have matched with: Santiago Garcia! Say hi!’

It was like time had frozen and you read the words over and over again. Santiago Garcia. Santiago Garcia. Santiago Garcia. You wondered how many Santiago Garcia’s lived in New York City - or more specifically, only three miles away?!

You hammered your thumb into your screen to view his profile and you were blown away as you went through his photos. That was definitely him. That was definitely your childhood best friend. Although his hair was once dark and curly, it was now short and slightly salt and peppered. He had a slight graze of facial hair in all of his photos, and in most of them, he was seen to be hanging out with a bunch of other guys. Wait- was that Francisco Morales too? They were still friends?

You were so nervous to say something. Truthfully, if you had come across his profile at any other moment where you weren’t half asleep, and hopelessly desperate for love, your fear would’ve stopped you from swiping right. You’d been in love with Santiago since pre-school. It had been over a decade but you still thought about him every single day and cherished those long lost moments you spent together.

But the reality was, that he’d swiped right on you too. He was interested in you as well! Which had to count for something. You took a deep breath and typed out the words “Hello :)” before quickly turning your phone off and throwing it across your bedroom.

You sat bolt upright in your bed for a few moments, contemplating what you had done. You told yourself it would be okay and asked yourself what was the worst that could happen. You sighed and forced yourself out of bed to get ready for the day ahead.

Turning off your phone was a good idea because you’d actually forgotten about messaging Santiago until about lunch time. You flicked through the television channels, holding a lazily put together sandwich in your free hand, and landed on a dating game show. You considered applying, thinking about how fun it might be, when you remembered you might already have a shot with someone else. Santiago. You dropped your sandwich on the coffee table in a frenzy, ran to your bedroom and turned on your phone. The painful minute it took to completely boot up sent butterflies rampant in the pit of your stomach.

Santiago: Hey! How you doing? I gotta say I was really surprised to see that we matched last night. It’s been a long time!

Oh my god. He’d replied. He’d replied three hours ago and you hadn’t said anything back. Shit. You wondered if you had already blown your chances, but little did you know, Santiago had been holding out for a message from you for a long time.

You: Right...almost fifteen years, I think! I’m okay. How are you?

You pressed send and took a deep breath. It was okay. Just casual small talk. It would be okay. You slid your phone into your pocket and went back to eat your sandwich. No matter how hard you tried to focus on the game show, you just couldn’t stop thinking about Santiago.

“Santi! You got a new message!” Frankie called from the other room, taking a huge, messy bite out of a candy bar and picking up his phone.

“Frankie! I’m literally on the toilet… can it wait?” Santiago cried, face palming and chuckling incredulously. Living with his best friend for five long years meant that Santiago had become accustomed to interactions like this.

“No, I don’t think so,” Frankie mumbled, knotting his eyebrows together as he read the notification that had popped up on the screen. “Hey, are you talking to Y/N L/N from high school?”

“Wh- what?” Santiago asked, feeling his cheeks flush.

“Oh my God you are!” Frankie gasped excitedly, typing in his friend’s passcode for his phone and getting inside. “On Tinder!”

Santiago finished up washing his hands and walked out the bathroom, an unamused scowl drawn upon his lips. Frankie swallowed at his best friend’s expression.

“This has to stop,” Santiago warned, taking his phone from Frankie’s hand. “I love you buddy, I really do. But you’re getting married next Summer. You can’t keep trying to talk to me while I’m on the toilet!”

Frankie laughed and rolled his eyes before getting back to his video game.

Santiago was shocked to be reminded that you had remembered exactly how long it had been since you last saw each other. He began to compose his next message. You practically screamed when you felt your phone vibrate at the notification.

Santiago: I’m well, thanks for asking. Would you be interested in meeting up sometime for a few drinks? I’d love to catch up.

Drinks. A catch up. It sounded perfect. You already found your mind racing as you wondered what to wear.

You: That sounds great!

Santiago’s reply came fleetingly.

Santiago: Are you free tonight? X

Tonight was so soon… but you were free, and it felt like you’d been waiting forever to reunite with your childhood crush. And he felt the same way. It was so exciting for both of you.

You: Tonight sounds great. See you then :) x

You and Santiago spent the rest of the day in anticipation to see one another. You didn’t know then, but the accidental Tinder encounter turned out to be the long lasting and perfect relationship both you and Santiago craved. The soulmates were reunited at last.

Taglists - let me know if you wish to be added!

Permanent: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat

#santiago garcia #santiago garcia x reader #oscar isaac #oscar isaac x reader #pedro pascal #frankie morales #triple frontier #santiago pope garcia

110 notes · View notes

doexoeyes · 3 years

Text

Of Finches & Firsts

In case you wanna read ahead:

Archive Of Our own link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26707513

Wattpad link:

https://my.w.tt/ZoUHpu1e59

Summary: “A Hufflepuff? Crushing on a Slytherin? Sounds like the start of a terrible joke to me, but ok.” You’ve harbored feelings for Draco Malfoy since your first year at Hogwarts. Secretly, of course, and very much from afar. But when you’re finally taken out of your role of being a background character in his life, will it be what you always wanted, or what you wish you never knew?

Chapters

Chapter 1 ♡ Chapter 2 ♡ Chapter 3 ♡ Chapter 4 ♡ Chapter 5

Chapter 4: Dirty Pants

Your latest run in with Malfoy had consumed your head for the majority of that week, even, unfortunately, during the tournament.

You were, of course, over the moon at Cedric’s success at capturing the golden dragon egg (Harry’s too, however you would keep that to yourself for the time being until the tension between him and your house blew over), but you just couldn’t shake off the feeling of having had Draco be so close and how he decided to take something of your’s for himself.

It sent you through an overwhelming spiral of thoughts and confusion and you so desperately wanted a friend to talk to, but you knew that Mauve and the others would immediately disapprove.

Anything Draco did was a red flag to them.

Still, that did lead to your most important question; why did Draco do what he did? He couldn’t seriously have had any real interest in your ribbon. It just all seemed like he was...toying with you, but if so, why would he waste his time toying with you in the first place ?

All of these questions received no answers for days until you had finally deemed your endless hours anxiously dwelling on it enough and decided to find your own answers.

Thinking back to the first day you had interacted with Draco, you grabbed your sketch book and pencil pouch and headed to the astronomy tower after dinner, waiting to see if you would run into the Malfoy boy.

Thankfully the universe seemed to be in your favor, because you did.

“Finch,” he greeted upon seeing you, his infamous smirk on its proper place. “Been running into each other more lately. I think you’ve become a bit obsessed,” he teased as he made his way towards you with slow steps.

You clutched your sketchbook to your chest, silently pretending it was a shield of sorts to encourage you to hang onto what little courage you had.

You then took a breath and began.

“We need to talk,” you stated cautiously, not knowing how this would turn out. “I need you to be honest with me.”

Draco frowned, clearly not a fan of your words. “Talk? About what?”

“About what happened a couple days ago. About the umm...” you weren’t sure why, but the words you were looking for escaped you so you chose to point to the top of your head where your hair was done up in a ponytail once more.

Draco stared at you, confused, before giving out a scoff, eyes twinkling in amusement. “Oh, your ribbon? Why, want it back? Has no one taught you about sharing, Finch?” and you clutched your book tighter as he once again placed himself inches away from you.

He really wasn’t a fan of personal space, it seemed.

“Why would I have to share my ribbon with you?” you questioned, feeling silly and small in his presence.

“Because I wanted it. Simple as that,” he answered, eyes looking at you as if to challenge him in saying something else about the subject.

You had no plan to do so.

“Ok...” you said, disappointed that that was all he had to say on the matter.

This was definitely not going according to your plan. Then again, you weren’t even sure you had one in the first place.

His eyes then flickered to the sketchbook you were holding to your chest. “What’s that you’re always bringing up here with you?” he asked nosily and your cheeks immediately flushed.

“It’s, umm...it’s a sketchbook. I like to draw in my free time.”

“Oh really? Well then you’re going to have to share that with me,” he said, moving as if to grab the book but you immediately stepped back, shaking your head with wide eyes.

“Oh no, absolutely not,” you blurted out, taking Draco aback at your sudden outburst.

He frowned once again. “And why not?” A ghost of realization then hit his face and he smirked knowingly. “Oh, I get it. It’s filled with drawings of me. Am I your muse, Finch?” he taunted, lifting his brows.

You unfortunately couldn’t control a small laugh from escaping, nerves setting in as you knew now that you had to explain. “No, actually, I’m...quite terrible at drawing and I’m terrified of you looking at them because...well, they’re really bad,” you confessed, and placed a hand over your mouth to contain the rest of your nervous giggling.

Draco eyes you now like you were completely mad.

“So, you’re telling me you spend your time doing something you’re horrible at?”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to figure out a way to explain it to him best. “Well, yes. Have you never done something not because you’re good at it or you have to, but simply because you enjoy it?” you asked, and the very blonde boy remained starring at you oddly.

“No, actually, that sounds bloody ridiculous and like a terrible waste of time.”

You subconsciously pushed your bottom lip out, your expression resembling a small pout, as you stood there awkwardly, eyes avoiding his. Feeling the weight of the book on your chest, you looked at it for a moment before handing it towards him, wondering what was possessing you to do so.

He looked at your offering with furrowed brows, eyes asking you the same question.

“Just pass through it. No point in not letting you see it now that you know that I’m awful at it. You might find some amusement in it. Just, please, be prepared. I wasn’t being hard on myself, I really am crap at drawing.”

He snatched the book from your hand then, an action you thought was a bit too dramatic, and opened the book, eyes analyzing every page as he flipped through it.

You stood there, watching him pass through the book as you chewed on your bottom lip nervously. You were never usually this bold, letting someone (especially someone like Draco Malfoy) go through your sketchbook knowing very well how terrible your sketches were. Yet, you felt that the only way the tension between you two would dissipate was to be honest and open with him, like how you wanted him to be with you. Maybe then he’ll tell you the real reason why he took your ribbon...

How silly of you to still be hung up on such a little thing.

“Wow, you weren’t wrong. You really are shit at drawing,” he commented midway through his flipping.

You blushed, embarrassed, but also found his blunt honesty amusing, and couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle. “I know. It’s a good thing art isn’t part of our curriculum. I would absolutely fail, without a doubt,” and you felt your chest swell up at hearing him laugh along with you.

“Honestly,” he said, handing the book back to you once he finished. “You know, you’re very strange.”

“And you’re very judgmental,” you quickly threw back, causing Draco’s eyes to widen slightly, not expecting your response.

You raise a brow at him, lips forming into a soft smile. “You only think I’m strange because you don’t understand what I’m talking about,” you elaborated before leaning down to sit on the floor.

You patted the spot next to you, looking up at Draco as you did so, but the boy shook his head with a frown.

“Are you mad? I’m not sitting on the floor. I’ll get my pants all dirty,” he said in disgust.

You playfully rolled her eyes, looking up at him from your lashes. “They won’t be, but if they are, I promise I will clean them for you. Just...please sit with me?” you asked, eyes silently pleading with him.

He stood there stubbornly, arms crossed against his chest and you were sadly made aware of what his answer would be. Just as you were about to tell him to forget about it, however, he sat himself on the floor next to you with a huff.

“There. I’m sitting. Now what?” he asked begrudgingly and you had to keep yourself from grinning.

You opened up your sketchbook to an empty page before handing it over to him, along with a pencil. “Take this and just...go with the flow,” you instructed.

He looks at you like you told him the most insane thing possible.

“You want me to sit here and draw?” he questions in disbelief.

“Mhm,” you said, smiling sheepishly at him. “Just one drawing. It could be of anything you want. A bird. A flower. Even a stick person. I just want you try it out for yourself.”

“I’ve drawn before, you do know that right?” he scoffed, finding the task you had assigned him to be entirely ridiculous.

“Doodling while taking notes in class doesn’t count,” you pointed out.

With a heavy sigh and a roll of his eyes, Draco took the book and pencil from your hands and began to do as he was requested.

It was a funny sight, you admitted to yourself, seeing the boy draw with a frown etched on his face. He looked very unamused at first, but as he continued moving his pencil throughout the page, the frown on his face softened and a more concentrated look falls on his features. You smiled softly to yourself, trying to keep your eyes away from the page he was working on, wanting to see it only when he finished.

After a couple of minutes, Draco cleared his throat and handed the book back to you.

“Personally, I don’t think I did too bad,” he admitted, eyes on the page you were now able to see.

A snake graced the middle of the once empty page and you were surprised to find that it was a very well drawn one. Lips slightly parted in surprise, you noticed he had even shaded in the scales.

“Don’t think you did too bad?” you repeated, eyes taking in the details he was able to add from memory.

Draco immediately frowned once again, taking your tone the wrong way. “Well it’s at least loads better than your pitiful attempts,” he spat out.

At that, you immediately looked up at him, shaking your head. “No, I mean that in a good way. As in you did way better than just ‘not too bad’. You actually did a wonderful job,” you admitted sincerely.

You were aware of Draco’s infamous temper. The way he’d snap at the drop of a pin, especially if it was dropped in a way he didn’t like, had him labeled as a simple hot head by others. And although that could be true, you understood why he reacted in such a way; he was taught his whole life that people could be cruel, so he needed to be cruel first.

You knew all about the Malfoy family, namely Draco’s father, Lucius. You remember the day you went back home after your first year at Hogwarts, how you gushed to your father about your new school and your new friends and the new boy you really wanted to befriend.

You father had recognized the name ‘Malfoy’ immediately, and frowned as he looked at you in concern.

“You have to be careful with that boy. I can’t judge him, because I’ve never met him personally, but if he’s anything like his father, then he’s not someone you want to surround yourself with.”

You were snapped back to reality when Draco spoke once again.

“Really? That good?” he asked, looking his drawing over.

You nodded. “Yes. I guess you found something you’re naturally talented at.”

He looks up at you, expression unreadable. You feel your face warm up at the sudden intimacy you felt, realizing how close he sat next to you and how you could notice the different shades of gray in his eyes.

Clearing your throat, noticing how flustered you were becoming, you closed your sketchbook and put your pencil away. The sound of the pouch zipping fills the silence and you feel even more awkward until Draco finally speaks up.

“Are you going to go on the trip to Hogsmeade tomorrow?” he asked, causing you to turn your attention back to him.

“Oh, umm...yeah. I am,” you answered, attempting to play it cool despite your still blushing self.

“Perfect. You’ll join me then,” he said, standing up and dusting his pants off. Your eyes widened but Draco didn’t acknowledge it, simply stating “I’ll see you tomorrow, Finch,” before exiting the tower.

You remained staring at the spot Draco had been, processing the entirety of your latest exchange, feeling your heart race a little at the realization that he had just formally asked (well, demanded) to hangout tomorrow.

.....

What in Merlin’s beard just happened?

♡

Tag list: @sadgirlnumber92899, @yea-that-potato, @avellanas-nutty-empire

#draco malfoy #harry potter #hufflepuff #slytherin #draco x reader #draco fanfiction #draco imagine #draco x oc #imagine #draco lucius malfoy #draco x y/n #draco x you #draco x hufflepuff!reader #wattpad #aoo3 #harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy fanfiction

52 notes · View notes

soda-drabbles · 4 years

Text

Doodle Break | Arin x Reader

Request by @nonsense-on-main : Tiny lil x reader thing where Arin finds a drawing of him that you did and you get super embarrassed about it but he absolutely loves it (and possibly gets a lil flustered but like in a good way)?

Type : Fluff

Pairing : Arin x Reader

Art was always your passion. Growing up, your sketchbooks and pencils were your best friends. During recess, instead of playing with other kids on the slide or playing tag, you sat on the ground with your pencil and paper and doodled whatever you liked. Nothing about it has changed much since then other than you just don’t draw as much since you’re an adult now and working a full time job.

That still never stopped you from bringing your sketchbook and a pen during your spare breaks, drawing whatever was on your mind. The break room was your preferred and perfect place to get some good sketching done while you ate. You even had your own special spot, one farthest away which worked well since you were a little insecure about others seeing your art.

Thankfully, the room looks fairly empty today. You assume your co-workers went out for lunch this time and with a ding on your phone, your suspicions were correct. A message notification was staring you back in the face, from Jory specifically.

‘We’re gonna get some McDonald’s so let us know what you want. ‘

With your free hand, you type out what you want and hit send. Afterwards, you place your phone back in it’s pocket. Although you’ve been to the break room plenty of times, it never ceases to satisfy you with how peacefully quiet it can be. Which is honestly laughable, considering that rooms over Dan and Arin were probably giggling themselves shitless right now.

Thinking about it now, your mind drifted to Arin. Nothing that unusual nowadays, as he took over most of the thoughts.

His name pops into your head and you can’t help but sway a little. As cheesy as that was, nothing was cheesier than the fact that you actually ended up drawing him more. It sounds like it’d be better suited for some high school Disney movie. Yet here you were, flipping through many already drawn pages to a new clean one.

Your pencil traces out the features you can remember. His broad nose, those delicate eyes, his warm soft smile. Things that for some reason you can’t forget, the little details. Sometimes you found yourself getting annoyed after drawing, as if somehow drawing him over and over will make you forget about him. Of course it doesn’t, and sometimes you’re glad for that.

“Holy shit, where is everybody?”

Speak of the devil.

“Uh, I, they-“ Your words nearly trip over themselves, an underlying guilty tone in them as if you were caught doing something you weren’t supposed to. “They went out to grab something.”

“Shit, really?” He groans, as if he’s been betrayed. Your eyes watch as he brought his hand through his hair in a frustrated manner, the blonde streak and brunette being pushed back. Your throat dries, the muscle under his arm clenches and you notice. “You didn’t go with them?”

“Nah,” You clear your throat, tapping the table repeatedly with the eraser of your pencil. “Jory texted me like, five minutes ago, asking me what I wanted. I thought he would’ve texted you or something.”

His hand falls from his face to his pocket, the once held up ball of hair falling back around him. Arin’s once frustrated expression settles into a relieved one, one that is also a little annoyed with himself. “My phone was on silent,” Another Arin groan. He quickly texts them back and his phone returns to his pocket. The attention is back on you now, as he walks over. “What’s on the drawing menu today?” He takes it upon himself to lean over the table some, elbows resting on the table. It wasn’t unlike him to ask something like that. Working at the Grumps office for nearly a year brought you guys close, a lot closer since video games and art were something you had in common.

Still, in this case, this art was on the secret menu for your eyes only. Your arms were over your work nearly instantly, cheeks feeling like they’re on fire. You can’t imagine how red you must look right now.

Arin’s eyes slightly widen and he teases, “Dude, if you’re drawing hardcore porn, at least let me give an opinion on it.”

A soft crack fell on your flushed face, lips curving into a bit of a smile. Maintaining your serious look was hard, especially when Arin decides to crack jokes like that. Jokes that were meant to fluster you. “It’s not porn, Ar. It’s not really anything bad but..”

He laughs and puts on a dramatic scrunched pouty face that made you snort. “Not even if I say pretty please?”

“Especially not that. God, don’t ever make that face again.”

His face falls back to a neutral yet pouty face. Your heart is practically heaving in your chest but the relief settles in. You think that you may have ceased his curiosity or at least put it off. Now though, his eyes were practically setting on you and the gears in his head were turning. Problem was that they’re looking more curious than before.

“Ah!-“ A light feathery poke near your side was all it took for your arms to jolt downward, drawing a sharp gasp from you. You were hugging yourself at this point, to defend yourself from any new attacks. “Arin!-“ Your scolding falls short, eyes landing on your now bare sketch of Arin for all to see. Your eyes fart away and the heat that fills your cheeks is immaculate.

Thankfully, with your head turning the other way, it was impossible to see how he looked right now. You really weren’t sure if you want to either. Sure, he was a popular Internet personality and yeah, you were sure he’s seen his fair share of fan art (some dirtier than others) but still, this held a much more deeper meaning to you. Especially since you have a crush on the guy. At some point, you gather to courage to finally look at him. Instead of the look you expected him to have, Arin was seemingly stunned. About what is something you’re unsure of.

“When did you draw this?” He asks, bringing the sketchbook a bit closer to him. “Is this me?”

“I don’t know. Maybe five minutes ago.” You find yourself murmuring now. “Yeah, it’s uh, it’s you. Why?”

Arin breathlessly chuckles, in awe. “Dude, this is fucking amazing for five minutes. I also gotta say, I look hella handsome in your style~.” Although he’s teasing you right now, you turn to get another look and he looks sort of, what’s the word, flustered? It’s a look you’ve only seen Arin have once or twice.

“So you like it?” You ask, awkwardly rubbing the back of your neck. “If it’s weird, you can tell me. Seriously, I-“

He shuts you up by giving your shoulder a firm pat. “I think it looks awesome. Seriously.” He smiles, a light tint of pink dusting across his face. A part of you knew he wasn’t lying and the relief dawns on you once again. Another part of you knew that you probably shouldn’t worry as much as you do, as things usually went the opposite from what you assumed they were.

“McDonald’s train coming through!” calls Jory, who comes bustling through with a bag of McDonald’s that holds yours and Arin’s order.

Arin’s hand leaves your shoulder to grab the bag, leaving the spot warm and tingly. “Thanks, Jory.” He says, sitting the bag on the table.

“Woah, that’s really good, (Y/N)!” Jory exclaims upon seeing your ‘doodle’. “I knew that you drew in your free time but— wow.”

You awkwardly laugh, not being as flustered as you were when Arin got to see. Arin smiles again, sounding like a proud dad. “They’ve got talent. No other artist has been able to capture the Hanson essence like (Y/N)~”

“...Anyways.” You say after letting Arin’s cocky comment sit a moment of silence, which brought the burliest of laughs from him. Your heart sort of flutters. The fact that you can make a man like him laugh like that kind of brings you hope about your little love situation.

#arin x reader #x nb reader #x male reader #x reader insert #game grumps x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fluff fic

77 notes · View notes

chimpukampu · 4 years

Photo

Additional links at the reblog

Summary: “White lies are illusions you build with your words to protect the hearts of those you love.”

When Rayla found a lead that could bring her to Viren, she decided to cooperate with a peculiar Skywing mage who bears a strange resemblance to a certain Prince she abandoned two years ago.

Little did she know, her companion has a mission of his own.

"You draw?"

Jofus suddenly yelped, slamming his sketchbook shut so hard on his face, and the sound he caused almost frightened the birds in the area. He whipped his head towards her direction with startling green eyes as if she caught him red-handed stealing her Moonberry juice.

"I'm sorry," Rayla apologized as she stepped back to give the Skywing elf a space to recover his bearings. "I didn't mean to spook you. I've been calling your name several times, but you're not responding, so I went here, and then I saw you busy...doodling."

"Did you see it?"

"What?"

"My drawing," he asked evenly. "Did you see it?"

The Moonshadow shook her head. "Not even a smudge of your pencil."

"Oh. Oh, thank Nexus," he sighed, slipping his sketchbook and his pencil case inside his knapsack.

He patted the loose dirt on his trousers as he stood up. "Are we leaving now?"

"If you're ready."

The two decided to take a short break near the stream to refill their water flasks and to gather enough supplies for their journey. But when Jofus told her that his food keeper was still full, Rayla roamed around to forage for herself instead, leaving him her Moonstrider with an assumption that the Skywing mage would meditate somewhere peaceful and alone.

She didn't expect that Jofus has a hobby.

"I'm sorry if I was rude back then," the Skywing said, rubbing his nape shyly as Rayla mounted her ride. "I was surprised, that's all."

The Moonshadow shrugged him off. "You don't have to explain everything to me. Everyone is entitled to privacy."

"But still."

"You know," she gripped the reins of her Moonstrider while giving him a coolly stare. "You were lucky I found you first, and not some bounty hunters or someone who works under Viren. Don't lower your guard - I've seen some people who did that and lost their head literally the next day."

He gulped audibly. "D-Dully noted."

"Good."

Rayla didn't want to sound mean, but she had to address his carefree attitude before someone ambushed them along their way. Everyone in Xadia has been looking for the mysterious key, and for an elf like Jofus to carry such vital information, she deemed it impossible that no one caught wind of it.

Besides, she wasn't joking when she told him about the possible consequences of being complacent. And the way his face paled at her morbid implication, she knew that he was fully aware of her reputation as the Grim Reaper.

Death follows her wherever she goes.

(Read more in AO3)

#tdp #the dragon prince #dragon prince #rayllum #tdp rayllum #tdp fanfic #my fics #tdp fics #callum #rayla #two-faced lies #tdp through the moon

32 notes · View notes

harlot-of-oblivion · 4 years

Text

The Devil’s In The Details

You wait in the diner for a pesky devil to arrive before launching into more detail about the case. After some flirty banter and a heated rant, both of you come to an accord and you walk away with a new partner what may know how to melt your icy walls.

Chapter 4: The Devil’s New Partner

You knew from reading Dante’s profile that he would be unpredictable and possibly dangerous. And after some light digging around outside the city, you have learned just how much of a troublemaker he really is before setting foot into Devil May Cry. But you were not prepared for this the undeniable truth that came to light after your meeting with him:

The Legendary Devil Hunter annoys the fuck out of you.

You are hunched over a table in the corner booth of the Simmer Down Diner, still reeling from your first encounter with the infamous Dante while you wait for your food. The only saving grace from your irritable thoughts are your pensive drawings. You put the finishing touches on the Devil May Cry sign and readjust your glasses before turning a page of your sketchbook to doodle the shop itself…which is just a total mess. That didn’t really surprise you at all, but the sheer amount of empty whiskey bottles tells you that his carefree attitude might all just be an elaborate act. And as for the rest of the trash…you get the impression that he really loves pizza and doesn’t even bother paying the bills on time.

Your pencil glides across the paper as you draw a rough sketch of the jukebox and the rotting demon pinned to the wall with swords before moving onto the exasperating owner himself. Everything about him just irks you for some reason; maybe it’s the lack of professionalism or his not so subtle flirting in between the jabs at your profession. Never in your life have you felt such a strong urge to punch someone immediately after meeting them. Not even Fuller has ever managed to get this far under your skin after years of knowing him…and yet Dante somehow has you breathing fire in just a few short minutes!

The lines of your drawing get darker as you press the pencil harder against the page, being careful not to break it while you channel your anger into the sketch of Dante. You got a good look at him during your little tirade as you leaned in real close over his desk, noticing little details such as the silvery sheen of his messy white hair and scruffy beard. And those striking blue eyes…flashing red for a split second before twinkling with amusement while watching you rant just a few inches away from his face.

You hate to admit it…but a part of you also finds him infuriatingly fascinating.

The soft ringing of a bell breaks your concentration as the door swings open. You glance up from your sketchbook to see the devil himself entering the diner. Well, this is a surprise, you thought with quirked brow, partly convinced that maybe he’s actually interested in helping you with the case. The striking blue eyes you were just pondering about start scanning through the modest crowd. You straighten yourself up in the booth, revealing your whereabouts with a patient wave while you hastily close your sketchbook.

Dante’s lips curl into a playful smirk when he spots you among the crowd. You take this opportunity to check him out while taking a long sip of your drink. The first thing you notice while he struts on over to your table is just how intimidatingly tall he is compared to you. His long red jacket flares out behind him, allowing you a sneak peek of the guns strapped to his lower back. Your eyes linger over his broad shoulders and muscular chest before moving further down his body. You almost choke on your drink once you get a load of the very prominent bulge at the front of the black leather pants.

Either he’s packing some serious heat down there…or that’s the cleverest way to hide a gun I’ve ever seen!

You casually clear your throat as you set your drink down, hoping that it’s enough to cover up the sudden flush of heat rushing through your body. But the subtle twitch of his mouth tells you that he totally noticed you staring at his crotch. “I know, I know,” he starts when he gets close enough to your table, “if being this sexy was a crime, then I’d be guilty as charged!” he boldly claims while pointing at himself with a confident grin.

“Pff! More like if vanity was a crime,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes before leaning back in your seat while crossing your arms. “I’m assuming since you’re here that you’ve changed your mind?”

Dante doesn’t seem to be bothered by your chilly retort as he rests one hand on the table, really showing off his incredible height as he leans over the table with that stupid grin still on his face. “Lemme hear more about this case of yours and we’ll see, Detective.”

You study him for a moment before letting out a resigned sigh. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat, Mr. Dante?” you offer while pointing to the vacant seat across from you.

“Hey, there’s no need for that…just Dante is fine,” he informs with a charming wink, blue eyes gleaming with mischief as he slides into the booth. He pushes the table a little closer towards you so that he can fit into the small booth comfortably, long legs stretching out until both of his knees are on either side of your own legs. You grunt at the inconvenience but do not complain since you can’t blame him for being so damn tall to begin with. He rests his arms on the table as soon as he’s all situated and gives you his undivided attention as he picks up right where you left off.

“So, what’s this about needing my help to catch a serial killer?”

You slip off your glasses and sit up in your seat. “I believe that either demons or a Devil Arm is involved with some disappearances as well as the five murders,” you explain, but stop short when the waitress approaches your table. She offers you a refill before asking Dante what he would like to drink while batting her eyelashes at him. His roguish gaze never strays from you as he politely declines to order, only giving the simpering young woman a once over from the corner of his eye. The waitress pouts and lets him know that she will be nearby if he changes his mind before sulking away.

“Okay...let’s go back to the beginning,” you sigh while putting your glasses back on. “There’s been a drastic increase of missing people over the past two months. Most of them seem like your typical case of runaways and such, but some of them are highly suspicious. And when I looked a little closer…” you trail off, lacing your fingers on the table as you continue in a more hushed tone. “I noticed a pattern with every single case: all of them exhibited dissociative behavior before disappearing.”

Dante tilts his head and narrows his eyes while considering your first suspicion. “Alright…some people go missing, but what’s that gotta do with demons?” he questions with a small shrug.

“Not a damn thing at first, but I didn’t even see a connection until the murders,” you admit while sliding your sketchbook to the middle of the table, turning it around so that he can see your drawings and notes as you flip to the correct page. “This is the first victim: shot through the chest by a shotgun.” You give him a moment to study your grisly sketch before turning the page. “The second victim was stabbed multiple times.” Another pause to examine the gruesome scene before flipping the page. “The third victim was shot in the back of the head at point blank range.”

You feel his knees twitch against your leg, but you chalk it up to him being lost in thought as he scratches the back of his head. “I dunno…these all seem pretty random, Detective,” he contends, looking back at you skeptically through his silvery hair.

“And yet they all have one thing in common: a wound inflicted by a needle of some kind was found on all their bodies,” you counter while flipping back through the pages, pointing out your depiction of the wound in your autopsy notes. “At first, the medical examiner thought it was from drug use. But when he found the exact same wound again on the other two victims, he took a closer look and discovered the residue of some unknown substance.” You turn to the next macabre drawing and reveal your first break in the case. “It wasn’t until the fourth victim came swinging in that we were able to extract a small sample for testing.”

Your explanation gets put on pause when the waitress appears with your food. Dante picks up your sketchbook as she places a huge plate of the diner’s special down on the table. Your stomach growls hungrily as you stare down at the pot roast sub smothered with gravy resting atop a heaping pile of fries. The waitress asks if you need anything else, looking a bit perturbed going by her pallid face as she hurriedly refills your drink despite doing so just a few minutes ago. That’s what you get for eavesdropping, Sweetie, you thought wryly, showing her some mercy with a shake of your head. She rushes off to the back of the diner while you grab some utensils with an amused smirk.

You take off your glasses and catch Dante staring at you with a quirked brow. You glower right back at him as your mouth twists into an annoyed grimace before digging into your hearty meal. A husky chuckle rumbles from his throat as he nonchalantly flips through your sketchbook, adding more fuel to your already inflamed temper by not even asking permission first. But as you take a bite of the delicious roast beef and gravy, you decide to just let it go since it’s just your investigatory sketchbook; there shouldn’t be anything private in those pages anyways.

“Did you draw all of these?” he asks, genuine curiosity evident in his voice as he continues to look through the various sketches of past cases.

Your head nods while you chew and swallow your food. “Drawing important details helps me organize my thoughts,” you answer before munching on some salty fries.

Dante looks up from your sketchbook. “You’re really good,” he admits, knee bumping playfully against your leg again with the compliment.

“It’s nothing special,” you reply coolly despite feeling warm tingles coiling within the pit of your belly at his sincere praise. “It’s just a glorified version of doodling during class when you think about it...anyway, where were we?” You quickly move on before making a complete fool of yourself in front of the cocksure devil who is currently smiling like a smug cat while brushing your leg with his knee yet again. What are we? Teenagers? you mentally scoff, shooing his knee away with a swift kick against one of his leather boots before carrying on with your explanation.

“This is the fifth and most recent victim,” you continue while reaching across the table towards your sketchbook, barely managing to flip the appropriate page since you are a great deal shorter than him. “We’re still in the process of determining the exact cause of death, but we found the same exact wound on the body as well.”

Dante nods and turns the page while you take a few more bites of your meal. “What’s up with Frankenstein’s wife here?” he chortles, turning your sketchbook around and flashing you with this morning’s drawing made in the morgue.

“Oh!” you gasp, covering your mouth with a cheap paper napkin. “It’s uh…an inside joke,” you mumble with your mouth full, thankful that he cannot see your sheepish grin as you gulp down your food. “The strangled victim’s body is now missing from the morgue.” You dab the corners of your mouth with the napkin and take a sip of your drink before meeting his intrigued gaze. “And the test results for the unknown substance came back completely blank too,” you divulge with frustrated sigh.

“Alright, so lemme get this straight,” he mutters, closing your sketchbook as he leans in closer over the table. “All these people ended up dead with some kinda poison inside them?”

“It’s more like a venom since it has to be injected,” you correct with a brief nod.

Dante hums in thought while you go back to eating your meal in silence for a few moments. “Some demons can kill that way,” he muses with a casual shrug before nodding his head in a questioning manner. “But what about the missing people from the start? Did they have this venom too?”

“Some relatives and close friends report seeing what looks like injection marks on some of the missing people prior to their disappearance. I know, I know,” you murmur when that damnable brow of his quirks in disbelief. “It’s a bit of stretch. But when I talked with the victim’s family and friends, they all noticed that something was off with them before their death as well.”

You push your plate aside to lean in closer as you list off some key similarities. “Spotty memory, bouts of dizziness, and just overall despondent to the world around them…it’s the exact same symptoms of the missing people before they all disappeared!” you exclaim softly with a light slam of your fist against the table. “I know it’s a long shot, but everything in my gut tells me that all of this is more than just coincidence. And with the amount of people involved along with the fact that we’re the capital of demon town right now…” You close your eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply through your nose before letting out a shuddering sigh while your mind glosses over old memories.

“Something horrible is going on in Red Grave again,” you murmur, eyes snapping open to meet his intense gaze. “And I’m gonna stop whatever or whoever is behind it all before it gets worse.”

Dante stares at you from across the table, mouth slightly agape while his blue eyes shine with wonderment. Your determined gaze stays on him while you wait for that fiery red flash to appear again, heart skipping a beat when it flickers for a moment before receding back within those stunning blue depths. “You’ve definitely caught my attention, Detective,” he admits huskily, eyes now gleaming with rakish charm as he fidgets around in his seat. “There’s just one thing we need squared away before getting this party started.”

You nod your head, already knowing that he wants to bargain for his services. “The RGC P.D. can’t technically pay you for your assistance, but we can offer you a certain deal in exchange for your cooperation.”

“Like a plea deal?” he quips with a cheeky grin.

“Not exactly…unless you’re guilty of something,” you explain with a puzzling tilt of your head before shooting him with an icy glare. “And if you say anything about your good looks one time-”

“Being this handsome is not the only thing I’m guilty of,” he cuts you off, completely ignoring your warning as he leans in even closer over the table. “But you’re gonna have to do better than that to get a confession outta me, Detective,” he murmurs, eyes darting down to stare at your frowning lips while a suave smile spreads across his scruffy face.

Your eyes squint in suspicion, sensing that he’s purposefully trying to get a rise out of you for some odd reason. “I’ll have you know that I’m one of the best at conducting an interrogation,” you boast, slowly leaning in so close that you can feel his hot breath blow across your face. “So, don’t think for a minute that this cheap and debonair act will distract me.”

Dante meets your challenging gaze while you hear what sounds like a low and gravelly purr emanating from deep within his chest. The clamor of surrounding customers in the diner seems to fade away as both of you just stare unblinkingly at each other. Neither of you are willing to back down until the waitress hesitantly comes by your table just a few seconds later. You ask for the check while slowly leaning back in your seat without breaking eye contact, feeling his knee buck against your leg in amusement.

As soon as the waitress scurries away, you let out an exasperated sigh while crossing your arms. “Now, as I was saying…in exchange for your help in this case, we promise to wipe your ridiculously long record clean.”

“Record?” he repeats while blinking in surprise. “You guys actually have a file on me?”

“Yep,” you affirm with a nod. “Most mercenaries in your line work have a file in Red Grave, but none of them are as colorful as yours,” you remark with an impressed shrug.

Dante scratches his chin thoughtfully, but then his eyes light up with what is probably a maddening idea. “How about this,” he begins while flipping through your sketchbook, stopping on the page with your most recent drawing before holding it up next to his face. “A clean record plus…you draw me like one of your French girls?” he proposes with a wicked grin while his eyebrows wiggle suggestively.

The last strand of your patience snaps at your sketch of Dante staring back at you. You stab the remainder of your meal forcefully with a fork as you hop out of your seat. “Let’s get one thing straight,” you snarl vehemently while reaching over and snatching your sketchbook away from his grubby hands. “I better not hear anymore pickup lines from that crude mouth of yours if we work together! And while we’re on the subject,” you sneer, not able to hold back the oncoming flood of pure rage surging through your body as you sit back down.

“I will never see you as something more than just my partner during this case because it’s very unprofessional and quite frankly, I find you incredibly annoying! And I can’t believe that out all the hunters I could’ve chosen…I just had to pick the most infuriating man I’ve ever met!”

Some of the babbling conversations nearby noticeably dies down as your explosive rant comes to an end. You pinch your brow and take a couple deep breaths, ignoring the gawking devil sitting across from you as well as the curious stares from some of the customers. Great…I had one shot at this and I fucked it all up, you mentally berate yourself as the angry humming of your mind turns into quiet regret. Nothing new there…I should be used to it by now. You prepare yourself for inevitable rejection and open your eyes…only to be taken aback by the infatuated expression on Dante’s face.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask warily, squirming in your seat a little while he continues to gaze at you with that strange look in his eyes.

Dante smiles as he leans back in his seat. “You’re really cute when you’re mad.”

You scoff and roll your eyes at him. “I’m not mad.”

“I can hear ya buzzing like an angry honeybee from here,” he snickers with a shake of his head. He watches you for a few moments, silently sizing you up while you put your sketchbook back inside your riding jacket. “Just add free pizza and beer to the clean record and you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “Really? Even after I was such a bitch to you?” you murmur, wondering why he still insists on helping you despite showing him your cold façade and terrible temper.

“I got nothing else better to do,” he replies with a small shrug. “Plus, you’re one helluva spitfire…I really like that,” he adds with a lascivious wink before turning the flirty tone down to a minimum. “You have a warm heart behind that icy wall of yours…maybe if I stick around long enough it’ll thaw out.”

“Like I’ll ever let you get that close to begin with,” you grumble under your breath while crossing your arms defensively.

Dante chuckles softly at your stubbornness. “We’ll just have to wait and see now won’t we, Detective?” he teases with a roguish smirk while his husky voice ignites the warm tingling in the pit of your stomach once more. “Do we gotta deal?” he inquires, playfully poking your leg with his knee again while raising an expectant brow.

You grunt and kick his boot again before giving his suggestion some thought. “I do know the best places for pizza and beer,” you muse aloud, listing off all the pizza parlors and bars in Red Grave City in your head. “Fine… It’s a deal,” you accept his terms with a firm nod of your head while offering your hand for a handshake to solidify the agreement.

Dante clenches his fist victoriously before clasping your hand and giving it an earnest shake. You cannot help but notice just how warm his huge hand feels against your skin. The corners of your lips curl into small smile of relief, finally feeling like you’ve successfully taken the first crucial step in cracking this perplexing case. You pull your hand back as the waitress dashes over to drop off your check before zooming away as quickly as possible.

“So, when do we get started?” he asks, clapping his hands and rubbing them together in anticipation.

“Right away,” you inform while taking out your wallet, throwing down some cash for your meal plus a little extra for any trouble you may have caused while dining here.

“Ooh sounds like someone’s eager for more,” he notes playfully as you slide out of the booth, pushing his leg aside with an aggravated huff.

You make your way towards the exit while Dante follows suit, slipping by you to hold the door open while you exit the diner. “I need to head back and prepare for your arrival at the station,” you proclaim as he follows close behind you. “Don’t want anyone arresting you on the spot,” you explain while walking towards your motorcycle, which is parked just a little way down the street.

It only takes Dante a couple of long strides to get ahead of you. “Wouldn’t mind getting arrested if it meant getting frisked by you,” he jests while spinning around to face you, never breaking his pace as he gives you a flirtatious wink.

“I thought I told you quite clearly that I’m not interested,” you tersely remind him with a harsh scowl.

“Whaaaaat? I’m just enforcing the law of attraction,” he claims while holding his hands up in mock defense.

You scoff at his cheesy pickup lines as you briskly brush past him, never looking back until you arrive at your bike. “Think you can come by the station tomorrow?” you inquire, checking out your ride for any problems before picking up your helmet and turning around to face your new partner.

Dante bends down into a dramatic bow. “It’s a date,” he boldly declares with a quick flick of his wrist.

A single red rose suddenly appears in his hand and he offers it to you with a captivating smile. You look down at the rose skeptically as you reach for it, wondering if he always keeps fresh roses up his sleeve…or maybe he just stopped by a florist shop on the way here. Either way, it still does not stop this warm fuzzy feeling from rising in your chest as you take the rose from him…but you quickly slip your helmet on in hopes of hiding the fact that this romantic gesture had any effect on you.

“I’ll uh…see ya then, Dante,” you murmur with a small wave, noting the gratifying sound of his name against your tongue as you hop on your bike.

Dante waves back with triumphant smirk. “Adios, Detective. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

And with those final words of farewell, you switch on the ignition and rev your bike a couple times before bolting down the street. The rumbling roar of the engine drowns out all thought while you drive through the city, completely focused on the road and not on the insufferable man that really grinds your gears. Your mind is buzzing with elation despite agreeing to work with a man that takes joy from annoying the fuck out of you. But then again, he just agreed to work with a woman that has no qualms about giving him a piece of her mind at the top of her lungs…and that’s what you find most puzzling about your new partner.

You slowly step on the brakes as you come to a stop light at an intersection. As you wait for the green light, you happen to look down and notice that the red rose still in your hand. A few of its petals have been torn off, but it’s surprisingly no worse for wear from the harsh winds. You flip up the visor of your helmet and hold the romantic flower up for closer inspection before bringing it to your nose. Its signature fragrance rekindles the warm tingles within the pit of your stomach, licking like some smoldering flame at the cold shell that constantly surrounds you. You melt for minute while Dante’s words from earlier whisper in the back of your mind:

You have a warm heart behind that icy wall of yours…maybe if I stick around long enough it’ll thaw out.

People have called you a lot of things: a buzzkill, a surly hothead, an ice bitch…but no one’s ever called you warmhearted. Hearing those words makes you feel-

The blaring sound of a car horn knocks you back down to reality. You immediately notice that the light has finally turned green, so you quickly put the pedal to metal and take off like a bat out of hell. Your mind focuses on the road once more, but the sight of the red rose still in your hand enduring the rough wind reminds you that you’re no longer working alone…you have a troublesome devil with a pension for rousing your temper on your side.

And together you’re going to find and stop this new threat lurking beneath Red Grave City.

My Ao3

My Masterlist if you want more 💖

Tagging: @bettybattaglia @drusoona and @exsultry

#dante x reader #dante #devil may cry #detective reader #murder mystery #crime drama #eventual romance #the devil's in the details #THE GAME IS AFOOT MY DEAR DANTE #harlot writes

52 notes · View notes

be-ready-when-i-say-go · 4 years

Text

O’ Captain, My Captain

Thanks to the Old Me music video, I unearthed this old fic. Here is Football!Calum. With a hint of Artist!Calum.

Calum took his chance. To be selfish. To have both things. Football and Art.

if you like what I write and post, consider supporting me on ko-fi. It helps me save up for graduate fees!

_________________________________________

The grass feels different beneath his sneakers. He’s already walked with the team to put the equipment up. The coaches have already clapped him on the back, smiled at him, told him that he made his team proud. Though most importantly, they had hoped he had done himself proud. His mom and dad have already wrapped him in hugs, grins plastered to their faces. They’ve already taken him out to dinner, stuffed him with the fanciest thing on the menu. He’s already cheered in the locker room. His voice is still a little hoarse. Three championship games in a row under his belt. This game, that took place less than three hours ago, was his last hurrah. His freshman and sophomore year weren’t total defeats. They made it to the finals, but didn’t quite make it all the way. And now with junior, senior, and this first year as a postdoc have felt like fever dreams.

It’s amazing to go out on such a high note. He can’t help but smile at the thought, the adrenaline that fueled him as he drove the ball downfield with just seconds left. They were up by one goal. It’s not like they needed another one. Calum was greedy for it. No, he was starving for it. It was the fire in his bones that kept him running down that field. The goalie, normally pretty good at reading fakes, took the bait as Calum juked left a little. He dove a second too early, clearing the right side of the goal and Calum watched the ball sail before hitting the back of the net. Time did not exist. He wasn’t breathing. Just watching the ball, praying it didn’t hit the beam.

Folding his arms behind his head, he stretches out onto the grass. It’s cool even beneath the hoodie. He’s had some good memories on this field. The summer before he started his undergraduate career, he conditioned with them. He was picked up by his team at his secondary school. He could’ve gone pro. School was never supposed to be his thing. It never was his thing if he was honest. He was bored one day in school and decided to crash one of the art classes, skipping the ever so important free block built into his schedule so he could study and work on homework that was coming up or forgotten until the last minute. The teacher knew him fairly well and he wouldn’t rat him out. They broke out another sketchbook and some pencils. “If you’re going to avoid the other schoolwork, just doodle. I’ll give ya extra credit.”

So Calum figured what the harm, besides a potentially insurmountable stack of after school detentions. He could skip class, fuck about in a sketchbook and get some extra credit. He was all for it. But he found himself skipping his other classes more often. He wasn’t terrible at drawing. He definitely wasn’t great. It was just something he wanted to get better at. He came by the art hall after class and sat, sketching the lockers lining the walls. He sketched classrooms. He was getting good and he was enjoying it. The next year he made sure he was taking art classes. Calum never thought he’d give a shit about school, but he gave a shit about art. While he cared for art, he never saw it as viable. Football was his only option.

“You thought about uni?” His teacher asked right at the end of Year 11.

“Not much. School’s not my thing.”

“But art is.”

“So is football,” Calum countered.

“Aren’t some schools looking to give you a scholarship?”

Calum looked up from the sketchbook, back out the window to the benches for lunch when the weather permitted. “Yeah, some in the States. A couple in the UK, a few local schools. But I can’t. You know, football’s my thing.”

His teacher sat down next to him, gently sliding the book out from Calum’s hand. He already knows what’s on the inside but flips through the pages gingerly. The football field, his friends, his parents and sister, scenes of everyday life. The way Calum captured light was amazing, and normally took years to get just right. It was so easy to see the sort of knack Calum had for it. “What if both could be your thing?”

It wasn’t as easy as just having both things. He needed to keep his grades up in order to play at a university. He had to give a shit and it was quickly showing in his first years that he wasn’t. He was nearly dropped from the team for his grades. The general education requirements were ridiculous and all he wanted to do was run on the field and draw not the other bullshit between. But a chat with his mother changed all that. She was never unfair but always firm. He went to the tutoring center. He got off academic probation. He kept his head above water and pushed through the general education stuff.

Now here he is, going into his second year of graduate studies for studio art. Here he is, at the end of his football eligibility. Here he is laying in the middle of the field.

He can still hear the roar of the crowd. The sidelines are still packed with people. His body is sore no doubt. Even the cool down stretch can’t take all the pain away. When he goes to sit up, he’s definitely going to feel it in his quads. Right now in his memory, he is still dribbling downfield. He is still sweating, panting, praying he can get that final goal. Right now he is the little boy in his parent’s backyard, grinning ear to ear as his mother takes a picture before his first game. He is twelve again, running drills after practice until his legs felt like they would collapse beneath him. The only thing that matters right now is the echo of his heart thundering in his chest. He will always miss this feeling, everything on the line. Blood, sweat, and pain all pushing him to keep his eyes open, pushing him to be two steps ahead.

“Hey!” Calum hears the shouting but thinks nothing of it. “Hey!” the voice calls again. It’s closer to him now. The sounds of running over grass hitting his ears. He’s all too familiar with the sound. “You’re Calum, right? Calum Hood?”

He opens his eyes, squinting up to the voice. He sits up with a nod. “Yeah. Yeah, I am.” The girl’s dressed in a leotard and leggings, duffle bag hiked up onto her shoulder.

“Sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to say congrats on the win. My brother’s on the team.” Now as the sun clears and he can see her face a bit more properly, she does resemble Hawkins. Sophomore. Good guy, pretty kick-ass center fullback.

“He never mentioned having a sister.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not exactly cool to go to the same uni as your sibling. But I got picked for academics and he got in on football.”

“Looks like you play something? Maybe the dance team?” he questions, gesturing to the bag.

She nods. “Yeah, sort of.”

“Sort of? Either you dance or you don’t,” he laughs.

“I do, dance I mean. I also do baton twirling. But didn’t mean to interrupt your moment too much. Just wanted to say congrats. I’ll miss you on the field.”

Calum nods, hugging his knees to his chest. He glances over the opened field. “I’m going to miss it too.”

“It’ll always be here though. In a way, you know?” He hums in agreement with her statement. It will be. Just won’t be quite the same. “We’ll be practicing at the other end of the field. But if it’s too loud or anything, don’t be afraid to shout at us or anything.”

He smiles. “We are outdoors. Only so much I can really complain about it.”

She grins, a small tuft of laughter escaping her. “Touche.” She takes another step. “Well, congrats again, if I don’t see you at the party later.”

“Thank you. It means a lot.”

Calum watches her cross the field for a few seconds longer and continues to sit, knees to his chest. His legs are still sore. They will be for a couple more days. He’s alright with that. Calum reaches into his bag, pulling out his sketchbook and pencils. He tries to capture the scene from memory, the packed crowd, the anticipation, the desire. His chest squeezes and his grip on his pencil slacks.

The sting behind his eyes confirms the tightness of his chest. He brings his gaze back up to the slightly clouded sky, blurry due to the tears. He’s won. He actually won and he’s leaving. The end is sweeter than he imagined. It’s bitter too, to know that he won’t ever step back into his jersey. But it’s somehow sweeter. To know that his legacy will leave on, for at least one more year as he finishes out his degree in studio art. It’s sweeter to end like this. To end on top, to end knowing that he followed a path that allowed him to chase both loves.

_________________________________

The house is loud, even from the end of the block. It’s a good thing that the football house is situated pretty close to the rest of the frat houses, or else issues would ensue. Calum’s sure something is up as he closes in on the house. The ruckus isn’t from the football house, it’s from the house next to it. He’s unsure if he should try the door. The lights are on, maybe he’s early. The text he got told him nine. He’s only a few minutes late. Public transit was a little late getting him from the stop near his apartment, which isn’t terrible.

The door’s locked. So he knocks, stuffing his hands back into the pocket of his jacket. When it opens, he’s greeted with cheers, slaps to the shoulder. “The man of the hour!”

“Nah, nah,” Calum smiles, slipping out of his coat. He drapes it over the pile forming in the corner, over the back of one of the chairs. He turns to the kitchen. There’s a fixing for just a beer hitting him. He freezes though, staring at his coaches. “Coach Ball, Coach Hobbs, what’re--what’s happening here?”

They grin at him. Coach Hobbs steps forward. “We know. It’s not cool of us to crash a party like this. But, we figured you might want to know this before ya get sloshed.”

Coach Ball steps in. “We can’t extend your contract. Shite we know. But what we can do, is make sure you always keep a part of us with ya.” He extends a white box with a red bow wrapped around it.

The air’s not even pressing itself into his lungs it feels. Calum’s hands shake a little as he takes the box, pulling on the mesh bow. Pulling the top off, there sits a white jersey, decorated in his number, 11, staring back at him in green. The school’s name and logo also printed onto it. He pulls it out of the box, tears still slightly blurring his vision. As he turns it over, he notices his name also written across the back. He’s normally got a crier. Not that he’s crying right now, it’s just a few tears. It’s not like they can retire his number. But the ability to still hold onto it, the memories make him happy. The fact that he can still hold onto this.

“Thank you,” he whispers, putting the jersey back. He pulls both of them into hugs. His lungs can now fully expand as his coaches pat him on the shoulder, whispered praises falling gently between the three of them. Both coaches leave after that, but not before taking a beer each with them. The room chants for Calum to don the new jersey. He sheds the black tee, draping the white material over his body. A can is passed to each of them.

“This round’s for Captain Hood,” Trundle shouts. He’s taking over as captain now. “He always sailed this ship to success.”

The words catch in his throat. “It-it wasn’t me. It was the team. You guys sailed yourselves.” There are another round of cheers, cans clinking together and the first seem is bitter as always but Calum gets choked as his throat seizes attempting to not let any more tears fall down his cheeks.

The party continues, the music thumping throughout the house. Less dancing but more mingling is the call for socialization. The same girl from early comes up to him, leggings traded in for distressed jeans and a lacey cropped top. “Drink looks a little low,” she grins at him, before holding out another can.

He has no clue if she’s younger than Hawkins or not, so he politely declines the drink. “Thanks though. Gonna drink up on some water right now.” She nods and then shimmies through the crowd.

When the party dies down, around one in the morning, Calum lingers around to help clean up some before his ride pulls up. The driver is nice, keeps conversation pretty short during the five-minute drive. As he walks back into his apartment, the first of his roommates to arrive from their nights of mischief, he settles onto the couch. He unzips himself out of his boots, pulling the jacket off his shoulders. He inspects the jersey, thankfully no spills, no stains. He pulls it off, walks to his room and drapes it over the back of his chair at his desk. He’s unsure of whether or not to frame it. Though, his brain is completely sober right now to even consider that. He shimmies out of the jeans and lies across his bed, sleep finding him fast.

His alarm blares, the next morning. He groans, partially cursing himself for leaving it set. But he knows he needs it. Even though his shift is later in the evening, he’s still got a paper to finish up and his portfolio to clean up. It sucks to have to worry now about tuition, his scholarship covered him for all his years as a player, but now, with one last year and no more sports eligibility, him and his parents are figuring out the best way to cover the costs.

Calum sits up, the jersey staring back at him. It’s real. He didn’t really dream up the coaches handing him that jersey. He didn’t conjure it up in his subconscious as his own selfish desire to never part from it. That jersey is real and his, his number with him forever. It continues to hit him that his time is up during the week. More and more people stop him in the hallways, on the paths that lead to buildings, in the library, in the cafeteria to congratulate him. The older ladies serving him, heap his plates with extras, smile at him in the way that only older ladies can that make you feel fuzzy on the inside.

He settles down at the benches in front of the library and works on sketching the fountain. He’s been working on it for his final portfolio for a long time. He watches some kids, kicking a football around. His chest warms as they laugh amongst themselves. He decides to put them into the drawing too. He wishes he could capture their laughter, the way they grin at each other and shout at what should be a foul. He wishes he could capture the smiles on their parents' faces as they watch their children. Glancing down to his watch, he notes that his whole break is just about up, so he packs up his things and starts towards the art building.

In his brief walk, he realizes he could’ve chosen pro. That would’ve worked out for him. But he wouldn’t have these opportunities to still feel human, to chase for that rush of getting the lighting just right in a drawing, in the huge release when his brush hits that canvas. Art is the same need to emote like on the field. It’s just on canvas this time. He could have both things and he’s glad he got them.

#calum hood #calum hood fic #calum hood fanfic #football!calum #calum 5sos #calum hood imagine #5sos #5sos imagine #5sos fanfic #5sos fic #h writes #5 seconds of summer #5 seconds of summer fic #5 seconds of summer fanfic #5 seconds of summer imagine #artist!calum

127 notes · View notes

yukiobeyme · 4 years

Note

Hi! I saw your hc of the brothers reacting to a mc playing the harp. Do you think you could do hc with an skilled painter mc too? I study art, but due to a depressive episode i stoped painting, i started painting again a few days ago and remembered how much i enjoy it. Maybe due to the studys of the devildom she didnt have time for a while? Its ok if you dont want to or feel uncomfortable:)

Sorry, it took forever but hopefully, this suffices. It’s the longest thing I have ever written for Obey Me (5.6k words) The picture that is included is drawn by me, which is a painting that is featured in Detroit Become Human. It was in chapter 6 for Marcus, and the painting is human- hope. So, yea I hope you all enjoy and it’s just as good as the harp fic I did.

This is also like how the brothers try to help you with depression too because I need it lol. The first half is them noticing that you aren’t doing art anymore then you randomly paint then its the brother’s reaction though I don’t know if their reaction is long enough.

I am behind on requests but feel free to send stuff, I’m doing online classes so I have more free time and on my computer constantly. I think I’m finally gonna catch up on everything.

Trigger Warning for Depression and not necessarily Eating Disorder Otherwise Nonspecific but MC struggles to eat while depressed.

Art was something you always did. It was started as an innocent hobby, then you started to doodle on your assignments and notes. If there were paper and pencil around, there was bound to be one of your drawings on it eventually. In high school, you decided to take Art as your elective of choice, and during that time you learn what your favorite medium was and what your art style is. You found out you like paints the most; acrylics were the easiest for you, it was the most forgiving of the paints, watercolor you loved but it took work and concentration to do, and oil paint you practiced loved to hate. Oil was always so hard to work with, at first you always overworked the paint and left it looking dull and sad looking, but you were determined to get it right. Your final project was a huge oil painting, you took your time to plan and layout that painting. The topic you chose was the fall of angels, which you didn’t know much about. You knew about the Celestial Realm and Devildom, everyone does but it’s not like humans can walk freely in either of the realms. You debated back and forth if you should do a generic angel or if you should have more fun with it and recapture the fall of a true angel. Your research led you to learn about six brothers that fell around the same time. You recognized the first name easily, Lucifer; he was prideful and what everyone refers to the most powerful demon. He fell from Heaven after he became so impressed with his own beauty, intelligence, power, and position that he began to desire for himself the honor and glory that belonged to God alone. This pride represents the actual beginning of sin in the universe—preceding the fall of the human Adam by an indeterminate time. The other names, Mammon, Leviathan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, and Belphegor didn’t seem to ring any bells, but you took the time to try and research each on. You decided to capture all their falls in one painting, they fell in the order of power. Lucifer would be the furthest one down the canvas and that’s why Belphegor would be at the top still within the clouds. The painting ended up looking amazing and still hangs on the wall in your living room, it was the first decoration piece you ever put up.

Fast forward to when you were whisked away to Devildom to be an exchange student. They were nice enough to give you time to pack things, only 15 minutes to pack a year's worth of things. You grabbed random clothes and stuffed them in a bag, you grabbed your favorite stuff animal and went immediately went to your desk where you kept all your painting supplies. You made sure to grab as many different colors as possible, all different brush sizes and your two sketches that could handle the paint medium. You decided to grab your phone and its charger though you knew it probably wouldn’t work in Devildom. With one last glance around your house, you paused and looked at the oil painting before telling the demon that you were ready to start this adventure.

Much to your surprise, you were met with faces that were familiar. Though it wasn’t because you had met them before rather it was because you studied their faces and bodies to paint them. You were flushed the whole time they introduced themselves and was even more flustered when you realized you would be living with them for the next year. If they noticed, they didn’t say much about it. You knew they noticed your stares though. You were studying their faces, trying to recall if you captured them right, if your references were accurate or not.

You tried to do some form of art every day, from doodles or painting. Usually, you would sketch something during your breaks and paint them once you were back at the House of Lamentation. The brothers knew you painted but you always requested to be left alone. This was the time you played the music you wanted and get lost in the brush strokes. It was your stress release, something you found joy in, the way you reconnected with your body.

But within a month of being an exchange student, your RAD work piled up and instead of sketching during breaks you had to start studying and doing work to ensure you stayed on top of everything. The mix of stress and not taking care of yourself led you down a spiraling depression. You gave up painting and daily self-care was sparse and very little. You stayed up late and woke up early to get as much work done as possible, food was on the small side and on the go food.

You had gone shopping with Asmodeus and grabbed canvases, the now gathered dust in the corner of your room. Somewhere still blank and others left unfinished, but you could never push yourself to pick up your paintbrushes. Sometimes you would pull out all your material and just sit and stare at the canvas until you gave up and left it alone. Soon the brothers decided to make a schedule so that you never alone and offer you different types of support that were unique to them. They never pushed you to pick up painting again, though they tried to encourage it and encourage you to take care of yourself.

Lucifer:

Lucifer noticed how your habits changed, while he never saw your finished art pieces, he saw bits and pieces. He noticed that you like to draw what was around you, he had seen you draw the RAD, the House of Lamentation, and even sketches of his brothers and himself. When you stopped drawing in the morning, he just figured you weren’t as inspired, but then the dark circles under your eyes formed, skipping meals or eating too little, and how you sometimes drifted in class.

He thought it should be his job to help you, but he didn’t know how. For the first time in centuries, he felt powerless. He decided whenever you skipped meals, he would find ways to get you to eat. In the morning if you skipped breakfast, he grabbed a fruit and a granola bar to hand to you. Or when you skipped dinner, he brought the food to wherever you were studying. He made the time to sit with you, while you ate, bringing work of his own to do. He would try to brush off as he simply wanted to work in a different area when in reality, he wanted to make sure you ate.

Finally, Lucifer would ask if you had drawn or painted recently. Your grimace told him everything, “No, I haven’t been inspired recently,” you shrugged it off hoping he would drop it. But instead, he poked and tried to get more information from you. You broke after a while spilling all the struggles you have been facing and how the stress-induced depression, you assured him you been through it before and you would be fine but right now it just felt like loneliness and darkness.

While Lucifer didn’t show it, it broke his heart to hear you say that. He figured you were stressed, and you seemed down, but he didn’t know it was too this magnitude. He did his best to support and encourage you in any way he could, hoping that it would help somehow. He offered to tutor you and help you with homework in hopes to lighten your load. He knew he should tell Diavolo, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. This felt too intimate to disclose to him, he felt happy and privileged that you shared it with him, and he didn’t want to break that. At least you were talking to someone.

Mammon:

Mammon was oblivious to how your schedule and habits changed. It wasn’t until Beelz mentioned that he hadn’t seen you eat yet today during lunch. Then it clicked how he hadn’t seen you as much or rather how he had to seek you out constantly to get the attention he deserved from you.

He started to pay more attention to you and something seemed missing from your stack of books but could never place it until he came to your room and say your sketchbook on the floor under all your books. It clicks he doesn’t remember the last time he saw you drawing or doodling.

He then noticed your tired eyes, your slow-moving, and you did skip a lot of meals or at very little. He totally increased how much he spent with you, even when you claimed to have too much work to do. He would simply sit at your feet and lean against you. You would occasionally drop your hand down and play with his hair. You noticed the increase of affection and time he spent with you and at first, you were annoyed with it but soon you enjoyed the quiet company. Once Mammon saw you were happy to have him around, he started talking to you about his random schemes; which never failed to make you smile and laugh. He soon made it his goal to make sure you were always laughing and smiling, he never wanted it to stop.

You didn’t disclose everything to Mammon, but you talked about your feelings to him. In some ways it was hard not too, having him so close but you couldn’t help but feel vulnerable. He comforted you to the best of his ability, sometimes he said the wrong things, but he tried and attempted to fix it.

He would surprise you with small gifts, one day at lunch he managed to get a yakisoba bread and you were surprised when he offered you the whole thing instead of just wanting to split it. You offered to split it with him and you wouldn’t take no for an answer. You both ate you halves outside, and you couldn’t help but cuddle up against him. When you finished your food, you gave Mammon a peak of the cheek. He flushed immediately and you hooked your arms together and walked to class with him. Needless to say, he bragged about it to the brother’s group chat and he was made fun of because of how he blushed for the rest of the day.

Leviathan:

Noticed the symptoms immediately, he had been through similar things. That there were times he stopped video games and anime or stopped finding the enjoyment from it. Though because he was constantly in his room, no one would notice.

He simply offered you silent support, making sure you were never alone or in one place for too long. He would try to drag you away for a quick game or anime or watch him play a game. You finally asked why he was spending more time with you and he would bashfully say while he didn’t know how you felt, he felt like he had been through similar things. It broke your heart to hear that and you pulled him into a tight hug. Later that night, you went to his room bringing tea for both of you and you both stayed up way too late talking to each other. It seemed like talking about it help life some of the pressure off you.

He said his door was always open to you, and while you didn’t always take him up on it, you occasionally when to study and watch him play whatever game he was currently playing. It was nice to have his company, even if you didn’t talk, it was comforting to be in the company that understood your feelings.

During class, he sat to your left while Beelz sat to your right. Levi made sure to nudge you if your attention seemed to diverge from the lecture and always offer you his notes if you missed anything. He also showed you places to hide in RAD, if you wanted to hide during lunch but his only request was you took food and ate it. He said he would prefer to hang out as well but respected your privacy if you truly wanted to be alone.

Would try and encourage you to paint or draw again. Asking you to draw him some character from his games or anime. You occasionally you would indulge in drawing whatever he wanted. Overall, Levi was your quiet support and you were grateful for it, to be able to sit in quiet and not to be asked what is wrong or must talk was a perfect escape sometimes.

Satan:

He was worried about you, he offered to take you to the library for a new place to study. He would read your textbooks to you. He would read it whether you were in his room, the library, or curled up on his bed. Though most times if he read to you on his bed, you would drift off to sleep listening to his voice. He would always smile whenever you managed to fall asleep, it comforted him that he was able to help you fall asleep.

Satan would find books about depression, but he was uncertain because it sounded to clinically and he doubted that it was really like how the book described. Though he continued to research, trying to find out ways to support you. Online forums and talking to the brothers about the things they were doing and what seemed to help you.

He would stumble sometimes but you couldn’t help but feel touched he tried so hard. When you say the help guide and books he had, you cried. You couldn’t believe someone would care this much about you and want to help you. He was there to comfort you and once you calmed down you thanked him and laugh, “I was wondering why your actions seemed straight from a self-help book, Thank you,” you kissed him on the cheek and gave up studying for the day to hang out and cuddle with him. He would ask what he could do to help, what things he did that helped or hurt you. You would drift off to sleep with a smile on your face.

When you weren’t reading together and Satan would play drama, especially Korean Dramas, something you introduced to him. He would play your favorite one, the one you have already watched together and that you have seen a million times, but still loved it and reacted to the story every time. Sometimes Satan would quote the show and act dramatically to make you smile and laugh.

But there were hard times with Satan, he was the Avatar of Wrath, after all, he would get annoyed at the situation, but never at you. He always made sure that you knew that, though occasionally he would say something that he would immediately apologize for it. He tells you; he feels worthless and helpless. He wanted to help you and make it all better, but he knew that isn’t how it works.

Asmodeus:

Much like Mammon, offered you comfort and affection. Whisking you away to get the newest coffee or tea at the café, shopping, bubble baths, and doing skincare with him. While you tried to protest, he was consistent, and most times was a success. He starts to offer to go the café to study for a change of scenery, offering to quiz you while you took the bubble bath, or doing face masks that you could put on and study for a bit while it dried.

“Stress isn’t good for your skin. Neither is not sleeping,” Asmodeus would tell you pointedly.

Never directly asked what was wrong, but constantly reminded you he was there for you if you ever needed him or wanted to talk. While you didn’t to it often, instead of talking to him you would seek him out to cuddle and of course, he never denied it. It was a guaranteed break for you and most times you fell asleep.

Whenever he took you shopping, he would drag you to the art store encouraging to buy art supplies, he ended up buying you new paintbrushes, paint, and canvas. Telling you there wasn’t any rush to paint anything, but it would just be there in case you hit inspiration. He would always joke that you could paint him or “paint him like a French girl,” and would flash you a cheeky grin. You would laugh and shove his shoulder.

Sat behind you in most of your class and whenever he had the change, he would give you affection. He would pass you notes constantly, sometimes it was drawings of his own. Sometimes they were beautiful and amazing other times he drew funny sketches. You quickly found out who drew Lucifer riding the unicorn and Diavolo in the dress. The funny sketches also included exaggerated drawings of the teachers or his brothers, which was so hard not to laugh in class so you could only turn around and glare at him, that didn’t last long before you broke out into a smile and shook your head at him.

Beelzebub:

Noticed you lack interest of food and lack of eating immediately. Was constantly bring you snacks and sharing them with you. He sometimes was sneaky with it, dropping it off fruit slices and sitting it beside you and leaving. Then coming back later to see the empty plate and he was beaming. Would study with you and sat near you in class, whenever he pulled out a snack, he would set it in between you, in hopes you would snack on his food.

Whenever it was his turn to cook, he would find out your favorite comfort food; whether it was something from Devildom or Human food. Trying to make sure the food was as appetizing as possible and mouth-watering in hopes to entice you.

Would always be proud whenever you ate and encouraged yourself to be a glutton sometimes. Beelzebub was also your teddy bear, always down to engulf you in a hug and study with you occasionally. He would also tell you stories and memories about Lilith, times in the Celestial Realm, or random memories that were simply used as a distraction or calm you down when you got too tense about your schoolwork.

Beelzebub would also be the one that read you bedtime stories when you couldn’t sleep, it always made you laugh. He would do the voices and everything, as you cuddle against him. It became a normal thing to wake up to see Beelzebub leaning against you bed, he would admit he was checking on you during the middle of the night and decided to stay just in case you needed him.

He always checked up on you and while he was the Avatar of Gluttony, he indulged you in other things than food. He gave you a lot of praise and even small trinkets he found while he was out shopping.

He was just always there for you and he had his alerts on specifically for you. He would always reply with lightning speed. He was also the one that came up with the idea to not let you be alone too long and create the shifts between the brothers. While it was annoying in some ways you couldn’t help but feel touched by their efforts

Belphegor:

Consistently offered and told you take a break and naps. He would drag you to the planetarium to study and while he offered to study with you, he would end up dozing off at some point. It always made you smile. You would go snag his blanket and tuck him in.

He would constantly wrap you up in blankets and cling to you like a koala, trying to make sure you were as comfortable as possible as you study. He even would offer you to use his pillow that he carried around. While you were hesitant, but you adored how Belphegor smelled and often found comfort in that. He would be able to help you learn about the stars and constellations. He could talk forever about it and often did. He knew all the stories behind them, what they looked like and could point them out.

Sometimes you would count the stars with him to fall asleep. Belphegor was known to tuck you in, he would kiss you on your forehead and whenever he found you asleep, he would join you. It was the simple things that made you feel a little better and loved. Never forced you to talk about anything, but whenever he noticed you were staring off into space, he would begin to ramble about everything and anything. Trying to ground you and bring you back to the present.

He knew where to find you whenever you couldn’t sleep, and you weren’t in your room and he told the other brothers but always told them he would go and comfort and hang out with you. You were in the planetarium, it where he went when he couldn’t sleep or felt restless. He would sit beside you and sit in silence, he usually had a blanket to drape over the both of you. You would lean again him and rest his head on your shoulder, bringing in his smell and feel some of your tensions melt away.

Finally, one random day, you had inspiration hit you. Asmodeus had bought you a canvas and it was huge, and you knew the painting had to be just right. You decided to paint it outside, thinking maybe getting some vitamin D would help as well. You gathered your art stuff before you headed out. You ran into Satan as you made your way outside, you flashed him a shy smile and he offered to help you carry out your things. You were in the garden and you slowly set up; Satan helped you set up before disappearing. You grabbed your pencil and started to sketch out your painting. You heard someone approaching you and it was Satan though he was carrying a book before finding a place to sit near you in the shade. You gave him a soft smile before you went back to work. Before you knew it, you were loaded up your pallet with all different colors and started to paint. You allowed yourself to get lost in the painting. Letting your mind go blank and allowing your hand to take over the paint strokes. You didn’t notice the crowd that gathered behind you, you were completely lost in the joy of the painting. Your smile only continued to go the more and more you painted, you remembered how much you loved painting; the tension in your shoulders started to release and you felt renewed. Once you were finished you stepped back to see the painting in the full picture. You looked behind you to see all the brothers behind you, looking at your painting.

“It’s beautiful,” Satan said setting his book down and the other brothers nodded in agreement.

“Thank you… for everything,” you started and continued when you saw the brothers confused looks, “For supporting me and reminding me to take care of myself,” you flashed all of them a small smile.

“It’s inspired by all of you. That you reached out to me and reminded me of the hope that it gets better, even if it takes a while or doesn’t feel like it ever would.” All the brothers looked touched, but your words and it was Beelz that pulled you into a hug first. Soon you were getting hugs from all the brothers except Lucifer who gave a nod, you knew that later in private you would get a quick hug from him later.

Lucifer:

Lucifer had a sense of pride in seeing you paint again. Seeing you so engrossed in your work and how confidently your paint strokes were. He loved watching how the colors swirled together and how the painting slowly came to life. He realized he could watch you paint all day; he would later ask if you were willing to paint him something for his office. He would let you in his office and look around to get an idea of the mood of the room and how much space you had to work with. When you finished the painting, Lucifer hung it up almost immediately. He whenever he was stressed and tense, he would find himself looking at it, following the swirls of the colors to calm himself.

He also adored to indulge you in more expensive paints, which always took your breath away. He would allow you in his office to paint if you wanted. Most times Lucifer was working on papers, but occasionally he would play the piano, soft melodies that were soothing. It became a tradition that once a week, you would go to his office to paint or draw. Asking his opinions on sketches and if you should follow through with them or change it up.

Mammon:

He was taken back by how beautiful you looked as you painted. You were so carefree and happy; it took his breath away. He watched how your body moved as you painted, how smooth and elegant it looked. It was angelic, he was the only brother that dared to approach you; he would sit down on the grass and watch you.

He never formally requested any paintings from you, but you ended up painting him something anyway. You bought a copy of the magazine he was on the cover of and recreated it for him to hang up in his room. He was speechless when you gave it to him, you decided to do it more of an abstract with lots of colors. He hung it up on his wall and whenever he looked at it, he would smile and blush, it seemed so intimate that you painted him. That you probably spend a lot of time looking at his face to recreate it. He was greedy and craved watching you paint; for some reason, it was soothing for him and it made you happy so in turn, it made him happy.

Leviathan:

He watched in amazement, seeing you so shy and in a shy to being confident and standing tall. HE was in awe; his mouth fell open at some point. He felt like a child again, recalling how he has memories of having similar reactions when Lucifer did things. He followed you paint strokes, watching the painting come to life. When you turned around, he gave you the biggest smile, he was so happy to see you so passionate and happy with your work.

Even though the memory of being chased by Henry 1.0 was fresh in your mind, you decided to recapture him for Levi. So he could always have him hanging in his room. Levi was speechless when he saw it, he would whisper thank you to you. His smile made it so worth it.

Satan:

He found it super important to text his brothers that you were painting in the garden or about to start. The chat blew up with excitement. He grabbed a random book; he had no intention to read the book, but he didn’t want you to think he was staring at you. He sat underneath the trees near you and opened the book and started to pretend to read. He was amazing and honored that he could watch the full process of watching your painting coming to life. From the rough sketch, then the base paint, and then watching you add more and more color. When he saw his brothers come out, he raised one finger to his lips, to ensure they stayed quiet.

He didn’t ask you to paint him anything but asked if he could watch you occasionally. Which you mostly agreed to, though with more intimate projects you would tell him next time. You ended up painting himself something anyways. It was an old-world map, Fra Mauro map. It was made in Italy and even included the Garden of Eden. When he first saw it, he was speechless, he was excited though. This painting would go so well in his room, it matches the old-world library setting he had in his room. He was even more excited because he has a book about old-world maps that Fra Mauro is featured in it. The hug he pulled you into took your breath away, but you felt so happy because of his reaction.

Asmodeus:

Asmodeus was excited to see you painting again. He would be lying if he said it wasn’t attractive to watch you get lost in your art. While he was watching you paint, he couldn’t stop thinking about what other things you could paint and wondered if you would be okay with painting him like a French girl. Soon he disregarded the thoughts and simply appreciate the art in front of him, though he decided that you were really the masterpiece here.

Instead of painting Asmodeus a picture on canvas, you asked him to take off his shirt and lay down on his bed. You had brought your paints and paint brushed, while he was confused, he complied.

“This is going to be cold, sorry,” you gave him a heads up before you painted the stroke on his back. Asmodeus love it, you were turning him into a piece of your art. It felt intimate and precious. Though it was cold, and he complained and shivered, he was excited to see the final product.

Once you were done, you took a picture of your painting on his and yours D.D.D. You told him you combined two of your favorite paintings by Vincent Van Gogh, Starry Night but instead of the yellow stars, it was Van Gogh’s sunflowers.

Beelzebub:

He was the most excited out of the brothers, he was so happy to see you painting again. Seeing it come to life right in front of him, gave him a new appreciation for art. He could have watched you paint forever, you looked so carefree and relaxed. He didn’t know how much he missed your smile. After you were done and the painting was dried, he would ask if he could trace the colors. He would pull you into a huge hug and spin you around, making you cling onto him and laughing.

Beelz would ask instead of painting him something if you could have a paint night with him. You decided to pull up a Bob Ross video and follow it together. The results were dramatic, yours look close to Ross’ but had your unique style, while Beelz tried his hardest and it did resemble the reference paint. You started to giggle at his painting and before you knew it, Beelz took his extra paint and flung it at you. You let out a shriek before joining in, in the end, you both ended up covered in paint and laughing at each other.

Belphegor:

Belphegor was napping when his D.D.D started going off like crazy, he was annoyed until he saw that it was about you were about to paint. It gave him a jolt of energy to rush out to the garden. He was the last brother to get there. Standing behind you, he watched how your brush danced across the page and how your body swayed. You seem in your element and lost in your work. It was so relaxing to watch you paint, how the colors swirled together and just seeing how relaxed and happy you were seemed to rub off on him.

You knew you didn’t have to paint Belphie anything, but you couldn’t help yourself. You knew exactly what you wanted to draw anyways. You set up in the Planetarium and went to work to capture the sky above you. Belphie ended up joining you, he grabbed his blanket and sat behind you before curling up and watching you paint. It wasn’t long before you heard his soft snores behind him. You chuckled at him before going back to work. When you were finished you saw he was still asleep, you couldn’t help yourself. You crept near him with a paintbrush in hand and touched his cheek with it. He woke up immediately due to the cold paint, you soon were fighting over the paintbrush. You didn’t stand a chance against him, once he had the paintbrush in hand, he gave your cheek the same treatment. You both began to laugh and once you had calmed down, you showed him the painting you did for him. He pulled you into a hug, rubbing his painted cheek against yours to smear the paint even more.

When it was time for you to leave Devildom, you gave the brothers the painting. They tried to refuse but you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Please, it’s a way for you to remember me. You inspired me to do and it’s a reminder to have hope that I’ll be back soon,” you told them a little teary-eyed. You knew you were going to miss all of them so much, but you had a renew sense and passion for painting and the brothers and Devildom has inspired a lot more pieces as soon as you got back to Earth.

#obey me lucifer #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #leviathan obey me #satan obey me #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #asmodeus obey me #beelzebub obey me #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #belphegor obey me #Yuki Writes!#yuki writes

88 notes · View notes

subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

Complexities Unknowable Chapter 3

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23274334/chapters/57175900

Chapter Two link: https://tha-best-url-evar.tumblr.com/post/614327945408987136/complexities-unknowable-chapter-two

MasterPost

Relationships: Established Relationship Dukeceit, eventual intrualiceit, background analogince.

Warnings: Remus says some things (mentions of biblically accurate angels, gore art description), food mention, mild sleep deprivation, cursing. As always everyone is sympathetic. Roast me if I forgot something.

Word Count: 1,851

Remus was, once again, sitting on the counter in the light side kitchen. It was an ungodly early hour of morning, so the Commons were deserted. He was supposed to be waiting for Morality, according to the spiteful little plot Dee had offered him that he hadn’t listened to all that well, but he surmised it meant he was supposed to fuck with a light side, so… Duh. Of course he was in.

Truth be told, three out of four of the self-proclaimed ‘light sides’ hardly bothered him! They were stuffy prudes, sure, but their insults slid off his back like blood off of steel. As long as he was doing his own thing with Deceit alongside him, everything was fine (he was still pointedly ignoring the existence of another Creativity). But looks like what Deceit wanted to do was torment Patton into, like, repenting? Or something? Like he said, he wasn’t listening.

Anyway! Waiting and watching was what he was doing! And doodling, because sitting still was literally impossible in Remus’ experience. Thankfully, he soon saw the paternal trait springing down the stairs. Straightening his back, The Duke put on his best intimidating face (which he thought looked rather silly, but Deceit assured him was very unsettling). He set down his sketchbook and blurred his edges. It didn’t work very well up here, but it was a little trick that they’d all- Virgil included- learned years ago. Honestly, he just used it to get cheap scares every now and then.

Patton strolled into the kitchen, whistling some jaunty tune and holy shit , Remus had figured it was some shtick, but was he just a cartoon character all of the time ? That was- sure, very adorable- but mostly all the more entertaining to scare!

“What’s up, Dilf!?”

Patton shrieked, nearly dropping a mug. With wide, startled eyes, he found the source of the noise. Said source watched the emotional trait force his expression into something amicable, laughing loudly.

“Um- good morning, Remus! I, uh, didn’t see you there.”

“That was the point, MoMo,” Remus replied, dragging his claws screechingly down the side of a cabinet; Patton winced at the sound.

“Can I help you with anything?” Read: Why are you still here? Sometimes Remus wondered if he was too good at his job!

“Nope! Just enjoying the atmosphere, sketching, terrorizing…” He flipped onto his back, throwing his arm out and presenting his open notebook.

“You draw?” Patton seemed weirdly happy about that fact, managing a more natural smile. Seemed he thought he’d found something to work with, but that was likely to change.

“Of course I do, I am Creativity, after all! Here .” He handed over the sketchbook with a Cheshire smile. The creative trait had ensured it was flipped open to a detailed depiction of a being composed of several flaming rings, all of which absolutely covered with bloodshot eyes. It had an indiscernible amount of wings that could only be counted as ‘too many’. In the center of the rings was a swirling black void (a type of ink that took Remus weeks to conjure properly, thank you very much).

He watched carefully as Patton studied the image, looking bemused.

“It’s an angel!”

That seemed to only confuse the moral side more, making him tilt his head to a few different angles to look at the drawing. But he still didn’t seem upset by it, oddly enough.

“It certainly is an interesting interpretation,” He responded at last, “and all of these little lines must have taken you forever, that’s so impressive!”

Truth be told, they had taken a while, and Remus was very happy that the effort had been noticed- but that wasn’t the point!

“That’s nothing,” he took the sketchbook back from Patton and flipped through more pages. Aha! This would fuck him up, for sure! A full-color illustration of someone hung up on a meat hook, rib cage pried open like a spike trap to reveal very painstakingly rendered organs. He was actually quite proud of this one.

The only response that Patton gave, however, was a slight wrinkling of his nose when he first saw it, followed by more quiet observation.

“What do you think?” Remus prompted, watching as Patton set the drawing back down on the counter and began to assemble things for breakfast, seemingly unaffected.

“I wish I could draw that well, but I’m still not super good at it,” he said admiringly.

“I had to crack open my own ribs to make sure it was accurate, you know!”

Morality yelped at that one- score one for Remus! Finally!

“You wanna see my re-imaginings of my favorite Final Destination deaths? I’ve painted some with real- well, conjured- but real enough blood!”

But Patton didn’t even flinch this time; he looked more determined even!

“Art is a healthy outlet for expressing yourself,” he was almost certainly parroting Logan there, and he even seemed to believe the statement. Perhaps Remus would have to be a little more creative to get more reactions.

. “I agree! I didn’t expect you to have such an open-minded point of view. I’ll be sure you’re the first side to know when I make my next amateur taxidermy sculpture! Emphasis on the amateur!”

“Great!” Patton practically shouted, very stubbornly staring at the stove.

Before Remus had the chance to continue, the distinct sounds of Logan and Roman arguing their way downstairs met his ears, and he cut himself off. That was enough for one day, he decided. And anyhow, he looked forward to trying new ways to bother Patton next morning.

Deceit rose into the shadows of the Light Side commons with a smirk. It was an awful hour of the night, which was part of the plan. Not only was Patton the first awake in the morning, he was also often the last to sleep. Deceit supposed that Logan was looking after Roman and Virgil’s sleep schedules nowadays, which made it much easier to catch the artificial patriarch alone. That isn’t to imply that Dee had been tracking their schedules or anything, but the overwhelming lie that Morality surrounded himself with made him easy to track- especially in the night, when he had to pretend even harder that he was fine without the presence of his little family. Deceit entertained the idea that he should feel bad for the side, and maybe he did somewhere deep down. Deep, deep down. No, further than that.

Regardless of any such feelings, he was here to mess with Patton. Still unnoticed, he watched quietly as his target scrolled through Netflix, illuminated only by the dim glow of the television. The side looked so tired that he could’ve passed as a corpse, but gave a tiny smile after finally selecting whatever it was he was going to watch.

Wait. Wait. He was watching that ?

Deceit stared at the unmistakable green text that was the intro to The Good Place playing across the screen. If there was one thing he was expecting Patton to watch (Cartoons? Friends reruns? Slime videos?), it wasn't his own favorite show.

“Hm.” Deceit hummed.

In response, Patton shrieked and fell halfway off the couch. His head darted around until he finally spotted Deceit, who had slid down to sit on the sofa as well.

“Oh- um- good evening, Deceit! Wow, today is just full of surprises!”

“ Surely you won’t mind if I join you? This is one of my favorite shows, after all.”

Patton fixed his position so that he was no longer partially on the floor and looked the snake up and down. He paused the episode.

“ Really ?”

“Really,” and then, after some trepidation, “Honestly.”

Suddenly, Patton lit up dramatically, a happy smile stretching across his face. Fuck, wrong direction, Deceit wasn’t supposed to be cheering him up!

“I’m surprised that someone like you would like it,” Deceit continued hastily. Patton’s smile fell a little and he tipped his head in confusion.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean ,” He lounged back against the couch, “I didn’t think you’d approve of a show where all of the characters are such bad people .”

“What?! The whole point is that they aren’t bad!” Good, Back on track .

“Oh? Then what are they? Last I checked, the main character was very selfish .”

“I- okay, I see what you’re trying to do,” Patton turned to face Deceit entirely, “But they’re- they also-”

“Also what ?” Deceit was also sitting sideways on the couch now, his eyes glinting. He was certain that he’d talked the trait into a corner, which was why he was so utterly unprepared for Patton’s response.

“It’s, like, they all start off not great, but that’s because they were all set up for failure before the afterlife! They had it hard before dying, but when they were finally given the chance to actually get better, then they got better! They aren’t perfect , but they care about each other! And I think it really shows that sometimes, somebody can be wrong over and over and over again, but that doesn’t mean that they’re hopeless, or that they’re a bad friend, or…” He trailed off, looking down at his lap and blinking very quickly. “Or that they’re a bad person.”

Suddenly, Deceit wasn’t that sure that he wanted to see Patton upset anymore.

After a very uncomfortable silence that lasted far too long for his liking, the scaled side realized that he should probably be the one to say something.

“That’s… a very in depth analysis, Morality. I’m inclined to agree with you.”

“Thanks,” Patton replied. When he looked up, his eyes held an odd recognition. It was a look that no Light Side had ever given Deceit, but they gave it to each other plenty of times. The side in question wasn’t sure if he liked it, but he sure knew that he was uncomfortable.

“So… The show…” He prompted.

“Oh, right!”

Patton pressed play.

Deceit had planned on doing some more provoking of Patton as they watched, but he found himself rather caught up in the program. The conversation he did end up making with the other incidentally slipped into chatting about their shared views on the show. It was almost nice. Maybe. Whatever.

After a few episodes, Deceit elected to return home for the night. As he was sinking out, he heard a sleepy voice bidding him farewell.

“G’night, Kiddo.”

He popped up in his bedroom after that, eyes quickly landing on a half-asleep Remus half-watching Saw 4 . The lights were dimmed to a glow, and the TV’s volume was so low that it might have been inaudible to anyone other than the more animalistic sides.

“You didn’t have to wait up for me,” Deceit murmured warmly, sitting beside his fellow Dark side. The trait yawned and rubbed his eyes, instinctively leaning into him.

“Wanted to,” he responded, voice groggy, “How’d it go?”

Deceit snapped his fingers to change into sleep clothes, reaching across Remus to flick off the lamp. As he settled in to semi-watch the movie, fingers automatically moving to card through his partner’s hair, he carefully considered the question.

“Fucking. Weird.”

Chapter 4

Tags: @deceits-left-glove @princemesscharming

60 notes · View notes

catlliecal · 4 years

Text

Cecilia is ready to beat up shit and Bloom is not having it

Or, in other words, a one-shot set somewhere in the second year of the Winx Redux AU by user @drops-of-moonlights Happy birthday, Drops! Have this little piece! I ran out of time to get it proof-read by someone, so I apologize for any errors that might be there. (Rated G, 1.7k words)

Despite living for a year around magic, there were somethings Bloom never found herself fully digesting. Like how apparently the natural appearance of her eyes was actually included slit pupils and not round ones like she had known for eighteen years. And that she had a sister who used to talk from a mirror via dreams. That took some time to adjust to (at least now they could meet face to face whenever they wanted).

Yet the biggest thing Bloom found herself questioning was her roommate’s plant: Cecilia.

It made sense for the fairy of greenery to have plants. What didn’t make sense is how the plants seemed to die every other Tuesday. And what made the least sense was the one surviving plant could talk and move her leaves like arms and blackmail her caretaker (Bloom swears that she saw Cecilia blackmailing Flora at least once).

It just so happened that Bloom’s disbelief made it very awkward to be alone in a room with Cecilia.

Bloom was busy in her sketchbook, doodling out random drawings. She had begun to include a rabbit hole thought, drawing what she thought her childhood friends Mitzi and Selina would look like as fairies. Yet the plant was making this simple task five thousand times harder.

“That top is horrendous,” Cecilia said, grabbing onto the sketchbook. She had waddled her way over to Bloom’s bed, leaving behind a small trail of dirt. “Do something different.”

“I think it looks fine,” Bloom yanked her sketchbook away from the plant. “So I’m not changing it.”

“If you’re fine with trash, then I suppose you can keep it,” Cecilia said. She then began to look at her flowers as if she were judging a manicure. Bloom let out an annoyed sigh. She turned back to the paper in front of her and continued her project.

Barely a minute passed before Cecilia spoke again. “Man, she’s ugly,” the flower pointed to the drawing of Selina. “And she’s barely any better,” the flower pointed to Mitzi.

Oh, that was it. This plant did NOT just insult Bloom’s friends. No one, absolutely NO ONE was allowed to insult any of Bloom’s friends, and certainly not an overgrown weed.

Bloom dropped the sketchbook on her bed, “You know what?” She began, “I’m getting sick of you.”

“Funny, because I’ve been sick of you for a long time,” Cecilia spat, “maybe you should leave for both our sakes.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass,” Bloom said. Before any more words could be thrown, Tecna opened the door to the room.

“Could you keep it down?” She asked. “Stella asked for my help studying, and it’s hard to help her when it sounds like you two are about to enter an argument.”

“I’m sorry, Tecna,” Bloom earnestly said. Cecilia frantically nodded, likely in fear of Tecna unleashing her knife roombas again.

Tecna closed the door again and Bloom turned to Cecilia. All Tecna had asked of them was to keep it down. That simply meant that she didn’t want to hear any noise. Technically that meant Bloom could take this knock-off Audrey the second somewhere out of Tecna’s range and all would be well.

And that’s exactly what she did.

•••

Bloom lost count of how long she had Cecilia had been duking it out behind the school. Despite her simple appearance, Cecilia was strong. Like, real strong. So strong Bloom couldn’t help but wonder where this machine of destruction was when the Trix were attacking the school last year.

The two were about to start round six when a familiar voice rang out.

“Bloom? Cecilia? I saw the note and– what are you two doing?”

Flora had found them (along with the small crowd that had gathered) and was just staring at the sight in front of her. Musa was by her side, a huge grin on her face.

“You two formed a fight club and didn’t tell me?” Musa said.

“We didn’t,” Bloom said, “and even if we did, it only started, like, and hour ago.”

“Yo!” An upperclassman by the name Yvonne raised her hand above the crowd. “Are we allowed to get in the fight?!”

Musa looked at Yvonne then back at Bloom. “Have you been charging tickets?”

“No?” Bloom asked, absolutely puzzled.

“You’re missing out on a goldmine!” She said before turning to the crowd. “Listen up! The free trial has ended! If you wanna see the fight, it’s gonna cost a dollar! If you wanna fight Cecilia herself, it’s five dollars!”

What Bloom expected was for people to complain and start leaving. What she was not expecting was for people to raise up their wallets and move to be the next person to fight the crazed flower.

Musa took the cash and settled at the edge of the crowd. “Alright! Welcome fairies of all ages! Welcome to the Cecilia smackdown! I’m your host, Musa Lu! In one ring, we have Bloom “Nina” Peters! And in the other ring, we have Cecilia the Florialinguis! Will Bloom finally be able to defeat her nemesis? Or will Cecilia rise up on top again? Let’s see! Also, I’m gonna need someone to text Aisha and get her down here! She won't wanna miss this! Now, one, two, three, go!”

Well, this was unexpected.

•••

Bloom was watching the current fight– another upperclassman, this one by the name Luan– along with the rest of the crowd. What had started as a simple stress reliever had turned into an event to put professional wrestling to shame. Over the course of several beatdowns from Cecilia, the Winx had collected a huge amount of cash and became even more famous. Who knew a bunch of students were so eager to fight a plant?

As Luan’s fight came to a close, the crowd became eerily silent, the only sounds present soft gasps. Bloom, along with everyone else, turned to see what could hush such an energetic crowd. It turns out the very thing that could hush such a crowd was a young underclassman who had dragged Griselda out.

“What’s going on?” Griselda asked, her glare alone freezing the entire crowd. “I was told students were being put in danger.”

Students looked at one another, no one wanting to speak. Bloom was one of them. The last thing she wanted was Griselda’s wrath. But she was the one who started the fight. Better she take the blame than everyone.

“Ms. Griselda?” Bloom said, her voice slightly shaking. She pushed her way through the crowd to the other side. “I was the one who started this. I had come out here to fight Flora’s plant, and then people started joining in. If you’re gonna punish anyone, punish me.”

Griselda looked directly into Bloom’s eyes. Seconds moved at the speed of minutes.

“Why would I punish you?” She said, her expression softening.

Wait what.

“Huh?” The underclassman said, utterly shocked.

“Why would I punish a fight like this?” Griselda continued, “From what I had heard, it sounded like reckless roughhousing, or worse, that troublemakers from another school had broken in. This?” She gestured over the crowd, ending on Cecilia. “This is the good kind of fighting! The kind that takes off stress and sharpens your skills!” Griselda made her way to Musa, the students in the crows parting like Griselda was Moses and they were the red sea.

“Miss Musa,” she began, “Are you the next to fight?”

“No, ma’am,” Musa replied, “I’ve been monitoring the fight.”

“Take five,” Griselda said, “I’ll run this round while you show us what you’re made of.”

Musa didn’t need to be told twice as she bolted over to where Luan was standing. The crowd began to relax again. Bloom made her way back to the front, excited to see what one of her friends could do.

•••

The fights finally ended when it was time for dinner. Students were bussing with conversations over the dining hall as many tales were recounted.

“What exactly happened?” Tecna asked.

“Oh, ya know,” Must said, “just the normal accidental formation of a school-wide fight club.” She took a large bite of her dinner.

“How?!” Tecna asked.

“Um,” Bloom began, “remember how Cecilia and I were arguing earlier?”

“Yes,”

“Well, she kinda hit a huge button and I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“So you decided to go outside and fight the plant?” Tecna asked, though it sounded more like a statement.

“Ding, ding, ding…” Bloom weakly raised up a fist. “We have a winner…”

“What did Cecilia do to make you so mad?” Flora asked.

“She kinda insulted my drawings,” Bloom sighed.

“Just that?” Stella asked.

“I was kinda drawing my friends from back home,” Bloom continued, “and Cecilia kept criticizing their appearance. I guess I kinda lost it.” She shoved a huge bite of food into her mouth, hoping that the rest of her friends would leave her alone.

“Aw, Bloom!” Stella said, “That’s so sweet!”

“Really?” Bloom said, mouth half full. Tecna looked at Bloom, causing the girl to blush out of embarrassment as she quickly swallowed her food.

“Stella’s right,” Tecna said, now smiling. “You couldn’t stand your friends being insulted, so you stood up for them. Even if your methods used were not the most conventional.”

“Who cares if they were conventional?” Aisha said, “I don’t know about you, but I feel pretty good knowing I’d have a friend willing to fight for me.” Her kind words made Bloom smile.

“Come on, Aisha,” Stella said, smiling, “I thought we already proved that to you with the whole Shadowhaunt thing.”

“I know,” Aisha said, “But there’s something different knowing you have a friend who’d go on a crazy rescue mission with you and knowing you have a friend who’d accidentally form a fight club while defending your name.” She held out her fist, and Bloom bumped it.

“I’m going to need to talk to Cecilia later,” Flora sighed, “none of this would have happened if she just knew to keep her nose out of other people’s business.”

“Please do,” Bloom said, “I do not need another accidental fight club forming.”

“The fight club is dead?” Musa asked. “Come on, you can’t kill the fight club when it’s so young!”

Bloom looked Musa in her eyes, which were watering up like a puppy dog’s.

“Okay,” Bloom said, “we can keep the fight club. Besides, it was kinda therapeutic to punch a plant.”

“Yes!” Musa cheered. “The official Alfea fight club is a go!”

#Winx #winx club #winx bloom #winx flora #winx stella #winx tecna #winx musa #winx aisha #cal writes #Tumblr please work with the page break

21 notes · View notes

devinsfm · 4 years

Text

joe keery. cis male. he/him. ／ jack devin just pulled up blasting video killed the radio star by the buggles — that song is so them ! you know, for a twenty - four year old radio show host, i’ve heard they’re really impulsive, but that they make up for it by being so captivating. if i had to choose three things to describe them, i’d probably say obscure vintage horror comics, blurry photographs of mysterious figures in the woods, and vivid descriptions of spine - chilling tales . here’s to hoping they don’t cause too much trouble ! ( sam, 23, est, she/her )

hey there, demons ! *ba tum tss* i’m sam and i never do this, but i really felt like it was time for a change, so i drew lots of inspiration from some of my favorite ocs and i love what i’ve come up with ! character info is under the cut and please feel free to message me if you would like to plot !

i. stats

𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢: jackson willard devin

𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔫𝔞𝔪𝔢𝔰: jack, spooky guy, the night watchman

𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔫: salem, massachusetts

𝔡𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥: ocotber 31st, 1995

𝔷𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔞𝔠: scorpio

𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: demisexual

𝔬𝔠𝔠𝔲𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫: host of the graveyard shift, a radio program airing every weeknight from 12am to 5am

𝔭𝔬𝔰. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: captivating, witty, resolute.

𝔫𝔢𝔤. 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔰: impulsive, gauche, naive.

ii. history

jackson willard “jack” devin was born on halloween day ( yes, really ) in salem massachusetts ( yes, really ). his mother stayed home with him as he was growing up while his father is a boston cop turned sheriff of the county and he’s an only child.

outside of the popular tourist spots, his hometown has a very close - knit, stuck in the 80s vibe. it’s the sort of place where everyone knows everyone for their entire lives because no one ever leaves and no one new ever moves in. phone and internet signals are nearly impossible to come by, so the local arcade and the video store still have quite a booming business in the year 2020. jack grew up in a not - so - typical small town suburban gothic environment, his dad’s income being just enough for them to get by every month.

he was an energetic kid who cycled through all sorts of interests, trying out everything from little league ( disaster ) to music lessons ( not as much of a disaster, but he wound up getting bored of it ). nothing seemed to really stick until he got his first horror comic : a vintage issue of tales from the crypt with tattered, yellowing pages. he was five years old and paid five cents for it at an elderly neighbor’s yard sale and from that moment on he was hooked. it started with the comics, but he quickly expanded his horizons to movies, books, and television in the genre of horror.

he got intro drawing and that was the only thing besides his newfound interest in horror that he could sit still for. at first he would just try to re - draw the panels in his comic books, but soon he was drawing anything and everything that caught his interest and he was getting good. he was being homeschooled by his mother at the time, but once friends and family and, well, everyone took notice of his skill, they were encouraging his parents to nurture his talent.

his parents fought about it. his dad didn’t see the value in his skill and wanted him to instead focus on academics, aspiring towards his son one day becoming a lawyer or a businessman or even following in his footsteps. jack never wanted that for himself. he was homeschooled by his mom up until then and she believed in him. it was with her blessing that he would go to a real school for the first time at the age of fourteen, starting off his freshman year at a high school that was a thirty minute train ride away in boston and catered exclusively to youth who demonstrated an exceptional talent in some area of the fine arts.

jack did well in school, but his grades probably would have been a lot better still if he didn’t start purposely acting out as his relationship with his dad got worse and worse. he started skipping classes, getting caught trespassing in cemeteries at 2am, and smoking a lot of weed.

when it came time for college, jack planned to attend art school. he swears he did. he looked a few schools on the west coast to get away from his dad for a few years yikes and planned to apply, but on the deadline date he got so high that he forgot to submit his portfolios. yes, really.

he loaded up his van ( a turquiose monstrosity he painted to look like the mystery machine ) and headed out to california anyway after telling his parents that he would be attending UCLA. of course, they quickly found it that it was a lie and his dad was furious. the two got into a huge fight over the phone and things were said. the result is that jack and his father haven’t spoken to each other ever since.

he did lots of odd jobs while he was on the road and basically lived in his van, which didn’t change right away when he decided to settle in LA, but he eventually got a job fetching coffee for the late night employees at a local radio station.

it was the typical, cliché story : the regular late night host called out of work at the last minute, there was no one else around and they were going to be on air in ten seconds. jack was thrown in front of the microphone and told to think fast !

he did, and the listeners loved him for it. whether it was his ramblings about horror movies or his thick boston accent or his reckless use of swear words on live radio, he turned out to be a massive hit. the successful night earned him a gig as an occasional substitute deejay, and with each broadcast he grew more and more popular, and about two years ago he was finally given his own program.

the graveyard shift is a radio program that airs every weeknight from 12am - 5am in the los angeles area and on apps such as iheartradio. jack hosts the show as his ( thinly veiled ) alter ego the night watchmen and discusses topics such as the paranormal, conspiracy theories, and all things horror. it’s one of the most popular programs of the time slot in the country.

it’s something that he never expected or picturing himself doing, but now he can’t imagine doing anything else. he’s become really passionate about revitalizing the field and bringing radio into the 21st century. he signed a HUGE contract with the studio when his show first started and now he’s a quite well known radio personality in the area and across the country.

iii. extras

huge stoner. high as fuck 90% of the time, and the other 10% of the time he’s probably still high, just not as fuck.

well known for his on air antics. he’ll light a joint in the middle of his radio show, he’ll prank call a friend and broadcast it to the entire city, he’ll curse in every single sentence and skate by on the after hours excuse when he’s reprimanded for it. he’s so outlandish and bizarre and like nothing that’s ever been heard on the radio before, and it just draws people in.

he often seems shy in person, but it’s more like he’s just a little socially awkward, something which also shines through in occasional non - malicious but blunt remarks and general lack of regard for what people think of him. he really just...doesn’t care.

genuinely seems to believe it’s either halloween day and / or the year 1986 at any given moment as that’s about as recent as his pop culture references get. he’s never heard of the k*rdashians, he doesn’t know what the mcu is, and the phrase yeet means absolutely nothing to him. mention any of it to him and he’ll just stare blankly bc he honestly doesn’t have a clue.

HOWEVER, he did start the area 51 meme from last summer. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

still draws. especially if he has to still for a stretch of time, then he’ll take out his latest sketchbook ( he goes through a lot of them ) and start doodling. he’s still quite good, mostly in his favored comic - esque style.

BIG CHAOTIC ENERGY and ZERO IMPULSE CONTROL

a chatterbox with friends but don’t be fooled...he’s been giving his own dad the silent treatment for almost seven ( 7 ) years now. it’s his preferred method of expressing anger towards someone because he isn’t really a fan of confrontation, but he’s maybe a liiiittle bit stubborn.

most of the time he’s a really easygoing person, a good friend and very loyal to the people he cares about. well - meaning, not the best at advice but he’s more likely to try and cheer a person up anyway.

he has a pet pied ball python named the crypt keeper ( tkc for short ) who he sometimes just carries with him because he likes to just chill wrapped around jack’s hand and arm.

iv. wanted connections

maternal or paternal cousins ( their grandparents probably live in boston or new england but otherwise anything goes for this )

close friends

friends

guests on his radio show

fans / haters of his radio show

people who don’t like him / find him annoying

exes ( 1 - 2, can be on good or bad terms )

“casually dating” but it might get real complicated soon - allie james

( these are just ideas and i’m trash at coming up with stuff, so please don’t feel limited by what’s listed here. )

#excess:intro #drugs tw #i decided that i needed something new but i just ''created'' this ''new character'' instead #countdown until i mess up his name has officially begun

11 notes · View notes

draconesmundi · 4 years

Note

Which dragon has gone through the most redesigns?

Good question!

But also a hard one to prove as I started this project years ago so a lot of my sketchbooks are hidden away in a box somewhere at my parent’s house, so I can only go with the images on my computer.

So my first fully illustrated draft is called ‘dragon book 2′ (2nd draft I guess?) from 2017. My current working document is ‘book 6′ which is actually my 7th draft, although I am slipping into my 8th draft right now. ‘Book 6′ only has 14 /15 fully illustrated dragons.

The longdraconid or ‘eastern’ dragons went through a huge design change between book 2 and book 6, mostly in that their manes went from hairy, fluffy things to wattles. Of the longdraconids, I think Huanglong went through the most changes; at first Huanglong was two species - Yinglong (a winged dragon) and Huanglong (a yellow dragon with complex black markings on it).

In the later versions, these two dragons were combined - the winged dragons were adult males.

In my latest rewrite, currently in a document called ‘w’ (the computer did not let me type a full title, booooo) I’ve changed the design A LOT. I went to a Buddhist temple with my partner and there were dragons EVERYWHERE - and 99% of them were yellow dragons with GREEN MANES (the 1% being yellow dragons with orange manes). After much ‘visual research’ (image searching on the internet for ye olde dragon art) I found a few things about Yellow Dragons - they have long white whiskers under each eye, they have green manes and beards, and they have long white horns usually with one branch.

The white wattles I had used in my 2018 ‘book 6′ design were based on ‘dragon wall’ designs, where 9 dragons are depicted usually with white manes and whiskers, but dragon walls are not the majority of dragon art, so I’m going with green manes for now (dragon walls however are very famous works of art, and have very good looking dragons on them!)

So huanglong has 3 definite visual styles, so that’s 2 redesigns.

However, a lot of dragons have gone through many doodled redesigns, none of which I have saved on my computer at present!

The knucker and the lindorm were two different dragons back in ‘book 2′, and now the knucker is just a type of lindorm. The new lindorm has NEVER had a proper face drawn for it, and gets doodles every day.

I have not settled on a proper makara/grootslang design so it gets drawn anew every time, with some 30 doodles of a snake-elephant-dragon-naga thing, none of them truly getting what I am after.

One that has a lot of drawings but not a lot of finished pictures is the yong, or Korean dragon. At one point I had a red-and-gold Chinese dragon, and I decided to make this a dragon also found in Korea. I was advised that Korean dragons should not be an afterthought, and to make the yong it’s own species. The yong became a red and gold dragon, while the Chinese red dragon (a mix of the futsanglong/fucanglong - dragon of hidden treasures - and the vermillion dragon of the south). I presented this design to someone who knew more about Korean dragons then me, and they pointed out most Korean dragons tend to be blue - after doing a little digging I found Korean dragons tend to be blue with green manes and white whiskers, so I drew another dragon, but to this day have not fully finished and coloured the drawing in. The current profile pic of Dracones Mundi was the red yong - red/brown/yellow dragons had one design of wattles and horns whereas blue/green dragons had another. In my current rewrite things are changing again.

I suppose one of the biggest changes was the Ethiopian elephant-eating dragon:

One was a wyvern that was a pack-hunter, lots of little wyverns envenoming an elephant then waiting for it to die like some sort of komodo-dragon ripoff, followed by a giant majestic noodle that kills elephants by constriction. Both based on the same medieval concept of ‘dragons hunt elephants in Africa’, but one is more closely based on the source material.

So for visual designs, most have gone through at least 1 redesign, now many are going through their 2nd redesign, but some go through hundreds in the form of doodles which have not been scanned into the computer.

Thanks for the question!

#Asks #Anonymous #My Art #Dracones Mundi

9 notes · View notes

thebeethathums · 5 years

Text

Observers - 5

Pairing: Sherlock Holmes x Reader

Warnings: None

It was only a couple of hours before John looked up from his computer to find you dozed off, pencil in hand, the activities of the day finally catching up with you. He slid the sketchbook off your lap, glancing briefly at your work – an array of sketches of him, Mrs. Hudson, the head, and quite a few of Sherlock – before setting it and the pencil on the table beside you.

You stirred when he did, groggily mumbling, “Just let me sleep here,” as you pulled yourself into a ball around your hand and shifted to rest your head on the arm of the chair. “You could take my room,” John offered, to which you grunted and rolled so your back was to him. He gave a half-smile; ever since you were a kid, you had liked to sleep curled up in an armchair. You felt safe in the small space. He covered you with a blanket and went to bed himself, leaving you in his chair and Sherlock on the couch with his eyes closed.

Once John was gone, his eyes snapped open and he examined you carefully before standing to quietly pick up your sketchbook and settle into his chair. He opened it carefully, taking note of the date, location, and name scribbled in the front.

You had started this particular one fairly recently – about six months earlier in Paris. Logically, that meant that there were many more of these books filled with countless sketches. He began to flip through it. There were pages upon pages of Parisian architecture and people you’d likely drawn while watching the crowds. Every few pages there were doodles – just swirls, little cartoons, or vines – which either took up the entire page or only an empty corner of something bigger. Then there were sketches of John, drawn, he assumed, from memory, as he looked much younger. Many of the pages, he noticed, had small notes in the corner – things you needed to remember or things you’d observed. Sherlock came to a series of sketches, loose and unformed, though still distinctly him, just before he reached the sketches from the Wellington Arch. He looked over these carefully. You must have stopped to draw him after you’d left. In the corner, there was a line of almost illegible notes that read, “Sherlock Holmes. Cheeky. Arrogant. Genius. Intriguing. Caring perhaps. Further study required.” He smirked at your crude observations before flipping to your most recent sketches and his eyes widened a little. Despite having been drawn with your non-dominant hand, they didn’t lack in quality at all and a good portion of them were of him. Your written notes may have been simplistic, but the drawings you put down on paper relayed a much deeper understanding. Each time the lines were simple, varying in thickness and pressure, but every single one revealed details about him that he hadn’t believed others able to see. Maybe it wasn’t that others could see it, he reasoned as he examined an image of him smirking, maybe it was just that you could see it. He also noted there were positions and expressions within the pages he was sure you’d never actually seen from him, yet they didn’t look forced or unnatural. He glanced up at your sleeping form with narrowed eyes and wondered, how did you do it? It was obvious your brain couldn’t compare to his, but then, whose could? Besides Mycroft's and that was something he’d never admit. You shifted slightly in your sleep to pull the blanket tighter around you and he decided that you were worth keeping around. At least until he figured you out more completely. When John got up the next morning, he found Sherlock watching you from his chair and you still asleep, your breathing soft. “That’s creepy you know.” John’s voice rang out through the apartment at its normal level, you weren’t a morning person or a light sleeper, so he assumed it wouldn’t wake you. Turns out he was wrong, as Sherlock shot him a glare and you bolted up from the chair, tumbling to the floor before bouncing to your feet. You kept your eyes scrunched shut as you cringed slightly and words tumbled out, “I’m so sorry! I must have overslept. I’ll make breakfast right away. Please don’t be angry.” “Why would I be angry, Squeak?” John asked, tilting his head worriedly. Your eyes shot open and you glanced around, remembering where you were, mumbling, “Oh, right. London,” before turning to give your brother a sheepish grin. “Sorry, John. I just got a little disoriented. Now that I’m up, breakfast sounds like a fantastic idea.” You rushed past him to the kitchen to avoid any further questions, calling over your shoulder, “Are you eating, Sherlock, or is this a brain day?” John had told you how he rarely ate. “No case. I’ll eat.” You were opening cupboards when you heard his answer and found them to be quite empty, shaking your head disapprovingly. You had expected it, to some extent, but still. “I’ll have to go to the shop first,” you announced, going to the door and pulling on your jacket. John finally had a chance to get a word in, offering, “You don’t have to make breakfast or go to the store, (F/n). I can do it.” You just gave him a small smile, pulling open the door. “We both know that I’m a better cook and that you hate the chip and pin machines. I’ll be back in an hour or so.” “You don’t even know where the store is,” John said as you dashed down the stairs. “Down the street and to the left,” you called, ducking your head back around the corner to catch his quizzical look. You smirked as you left, explaining, “Cab rides are useful in many more ways than getting from point a to b. Laterz!” He just stood there looking at the empty space where you had been seconds ago, lost in his thoughts, before wondering aloud to himself, “What has gotten into her? She never gets up early. I used to have to steal her blankets for her to get up and get to school on time and even then she was never properly awake till noon.” “People change, John,” Sherlock offered lamely, trying to stay true to his promise to you despite the new wave of observations he now had. It was proving quite difficult and he found himself wondering why he felt a need to keep his promise at all. He frowned and decided that it was because he wanted more time to figure you out, to study you, before John inevitably found out and things got complicated. It was for himself and not you that he did it. Yes. That was it. John gaped at him before narrowing his eyes. “That’s all you have to say? Where’s the long list of observations and deductions?” Sherlock rolled his eyes convincingly, sighing, “Not worth my time.” John sighed, thinking, ‘Of course, he was just being an arrogant bastard, as usual,’ and went back to his morning routine as he continued to wonder about you. Sherlock gave the slightest of smirks over having tricked John’s simple mind into believing him. He had his moments and he wasn’t totally oblivious like most of the populace, but he could so easily miss the reality of a situation. In truth, Sherlock was just as intrigued with you as you were with him. It seemed the more he ascertained about you, the more questions he had. And he needed those questions answered.

#Sherlock x Reader #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #Watson!reader #reader insert #BBC Sherlock #Sherlock #Sherlock Holmes #John Watson #sibling!reader #reader #artist reader #slow burn #x reader #fanfic #fan fiction #thebeethathums #Observers

187 notes · View notes

professionally-unprofessional · 5 years

Note

Shouto's bashful crush/interest being caught shifting behind the school (after he went to give her sketchbook she dropped) into his fuzzy black furry friend that keeps him company on weekends (cat shifting quirked reader) confusion & embarrassment clouds his mind for he has told that fuzzball many secrets. confrontation? maybe. thinking about the embarrassing things she did to make him feel better? (playing with a Cheerio dropped on the floor) definitely.

Oh geezums this ended up being really long. OOPS. I’m so sorry for the wait with a bunch of requests. I’ve been trying to make more time for fic writing and somehow managed it. Then I got halfway through this one and got stuck with a specific idea I wanted to do that I just couldn’t write and it didn’t fit and ahhh xD but I’m alive. Sorta. I’m trying my best to get back into writing. Also this is super long and I’m really tired. I didn’t quite finish my final proofread so there might be a couple of mistakes in here. Please ignore them if they’re there.

Anyyyywayy I hope you enjoy. I’m finally getting back into requests so I hope more should follow soon.

Ah, this was the life. You smiled and continued to doodle in your sketchbook. This was the best time to sketch. You were in some kind of creative spree which meant that - soon enough - a creative block would kick you into an abyss where inspiration did not dare to dwell. It was fine though. Hatsume would drag you out again with her endless chatter focused around her babies.

You heard a loud bang and smiled lightly, knowing that the pink-haired girl was likely in the design studio right now. The spotlight focused on the heroes was merely blinding to you. A role like that demanded too much attention. Even less popular heroes sometimes got dragged into the light. Despite the path of the hero not suiting you, you still wanted to make yourself useful to the hero society in some way and what better way for a tinkerer to do so than to make support items and hero costumes?

As your latest creation began to take shape on the paper, you wondered if you should go and save Hatsume from forgetting to eat lunch. Again. Despite the large personality differences between the two of you, your duo managed to function reasonably well. It seemed that Hatsume was always happy to enthuse about her ‘babies’ and, since you tended to prefer to be quiet and listen, it worked out well for both parties. She was a fountain of inspiration and you were a companion.

A win-win situation.

However, it wasn’t the pink-haired inventor alone inspiring you to live up to the school’s motto. Your other big sources were the two first-year hero classes. As much as you knew Monoma would hate to hear it, class 1-A enthused your creative mind more than 1-B. It wasn’t your fault that their class just had so many heroes with such interesting quirks and personalities.

Deciding to actually move, you headed back inside to the support course workshops and found your friend with a soot-covered face and a determined grin. Of course. With a small wave, you called out for her and she immediately turned around, greeting you warmly. Ignoring her rambling about her latest failed experiment, you pulled her out of there and into the lunch hall to grab something to eat. Settling down, you noticed that lunch was already halfway through. Oh well. You’d spent it in a way you enjoyed.

You noticed a familiar group of heads nearby as you took in the large dining hall. Looking over to them, you noticed a pair of dual coloured eyes lowering back to the meal in front of the individual. He was sat at a table with the green haired boy who needed something done about his arms and the gravity girl who had the big pink boots on her outfit. Oh, and there was the guy who had the white suit like Ingenium.

You smiled as you watched the bi-coloured boy for a moment. If memory served correctly, his name was Todoroki. He’d come to you a couple of times to help with tweaks to the temperature sensors in the vest on his hero costume.

Since he’d started using his quirk for both fire and ice after the sports festival, he’d needed small adjustments to the sensitivity of the heating and cooling elements in his jacket. You’d been overjoyed when Power Loader - Maijima-sensei - had assigned you to it. Apparently you were much better at doing live work than Hatsume. On two accounts; you were less likely to cause injury and you didn’t make students uncomfortable by touching them all over to determine if they were as muscular as they seemed.

Todoroki was a pleasure to work with; he gave instructions and feedback perfectly when you needed it. Not only that, but he was patient and polite with you. Smiling to yourself, you wondered if he may need anything else again soon.

Realising that you probably looked like a loon smiling to yourself like that, you quickly shook your head and cleared it. You were just thankful that your companion was still so deep in thought about how she could improve her work that she hadn’t noticed your little daze. You shifted a little in your seat and debated on how you’d spend the evening after school.

A yawn left the bi-coloured boy as he headed back from meeting his mother. It was later than he’d thought. He kept walking and soon came to see a familiar black bundle of fluff on a bench outside a coffee shop. As he approached, he paused and noticed that the little creature wasn’t asleep but merely curled up. Raising its head, the cat unfurled itself and stretched luxuriously as a light breeze ruffled its fur.

He extended a hand in greeting and waited. Once a soft muzzle had rubbed against his fingers in a feline hello, Todoroki stroked the small one’s head and was given a quiet purr in response. His gaze followed the cat as it hopped up onto the back of the bench and then looked to be making a calculation for a jump. He remained still as the feline soared and landed on his shoulder lightly.

Todoroki could remember the first time it had tried that. It had been such an epic fail that it’d pulled a small chuckle from him before he’d softly scooped up the fuzzball and put it where it desired. For the rest of the evening the cat had seemed almost indignant, puffing up and lashing its tail slightly… at least until it was given a nice scratch behind the ears and calmed down. He began walking back towards home and heard a small, uncomfortable mew as a spot of water assaulted his nose.

The forecast hadn’t predicted rain for today. He picked up his pace and headed for home. Endeavour was away with work this weekend in another city so at least it would be quiet in the house. Having a bit of company wouldn’t hurt and his companion always seemed to like curling up on the tatami flooring. The soft rumbling of a lazy purr was rather comforting in the silence of the house. There was either that, or the black bundle of fur would bat something around the floor of his room while he worked. He’d dropped a small bit of cereal before and had gone to retrieve it only to find the cheerio halfway across the room with playful paws spurring it on.

As he settled down, the cat descended from his shoulder and began rubbing its head against his side. Smiling, he stroked their soft fur. It was soothing to some extent and he didn’t feel so bad whenever he had this friend by his side. The companionship was fine and the more he had the cat around, the more he found he enjoyed and appreciated the quiet comfort.

Sometimes animals were far better company than humans.

He sighed softly and looked down at the papers he’d taken from his backpack. Homework. Fine. After a while, he looked up and realised that a pair of eyes had been watching him. For a moment, he thought the feline’s face held an expression of concern. It must’ve been his imagination, but sometimes the bundle of fur felt almost… human.

Smiling wryly, he patted the small head as though in reassurance that everything was fine. He was alright. As the head tilted with what felt like a slight frown, he blinked and unloaded a little. It was nice to be able to talk to something and even better that they couldn’t speak back and pull him to pieces. He didn’t want to be told that all of his thoughts were wrong and that he shouldn’t be concerned with some of the situations that plagued him.

Just because he was a hero-in-training didn’t mean that the rest of the usual teenage problems didn’t apply to him at all.

It was easy to forget that everyone in their class- no their entire year… they were all still children, really.

After a while, he tilted his head back and found that your face came to mind. Why was he thinking of you now? You’d helped him out a few weeks ago with his hero costume and hadn’t minded when he’d been finicky about how finely-tuned the temperature-sensitive vest was. You’d been so happy to help with such quiet cheerfulness that he’d found that the experience rather pleasant rather than long and draining.

Even if you were just another student in another course, he recalled your name. Maybe you’d forgotten all about him, but he couldn’t get your quiet patience and positivity out of his head. Even when the vest had decided it didn’t want to adjust, you’d kept going. Your tiny smile hadn’t even wavered.

He wished that he too could face everything with such indifference to challenges.

There was a muffled bump and Todoroki found the fluff-ball had tipped itself over batting a loose pencil around on the table. When the pencil fell off, a paw reached down and tried to touch it, only for the figure to slip off the table and tumble down. He smiled and the feline face that met his seemed more bright than before. Could this cat really understand him?

“Are you trying to cheer me up?” He questioned blankly and received a small nuzzle to his outstretched hand as a response accompanied by a soft mew.

“Hey… there’s someone I like. Do you think she’d like me back?” At this, the form paused and looked up at him with big, warm eyes. After a moment, a fluffy belly was exposed to him and he fulfilled the request and earned a quiet purr. Perhaps if a feline could be so comfortable around him, so could his crush. The thought warmed him and he uttered a soft thanks to the cat, receiving a number of headbuts and purrs as a result.

A cat for a councillor. Who would’ve thought?

You smiled happily to yourself as you left the UA campus the next week. The weekend had been a nice break. Time to get back to work. Hatsume had conjured up yet another baby but this one needed some more fine tuning before it could be set loose on human beings.

As her friend, you’d helped. You were better at the tiny, extremely boring and equally frustrating adjustments that were required before any piece was fully finished. Half of Hatsume’s unfinished work was because she’d almost be done and then another amazing idea would sweep her away into a frenzy of creation. Who could blame her?

No matter how hard you worked, thoughts of a particular student plagued you. Despite your mind being flooded with different thoughts, you continued onwards. The hours of the school day ticked by and after lunch you were given a new assignment. Designing work would come first. Personal woes could wait.

After an hour and a half of sitting with no inspiration or ideas, you huffed and closed your sketchbook. Hatsume had gone into her hyper-focus mode where she went quiet and worked really hard. That inventive glow never left her face. Yet still you didn’t seem to be able to work. The temptation to gently hit your face against the table was overpowering.

Nothing. No ideas. Useless, empty brain!

Wow. Washed up as a first year… So sad.

After another half hour of fruitless struggling to come up with anything half decent, you’d had enough. With your face resting on the desk, you let out a small, frustrated huff. A mop of pink hair moved in the corner of your eyes and you felt those quirk-filled eyes staring directly at you. A blink. Another. The gaze shifted back to the item in her hands.

You couldn’t blame her for not saying anything. Not only did she have her own work, but you doubted that she’d have anything useful to say and she probably knew that too. From what you’d seen, either Hatsume didn’t understand how normal people worked or simply didn’t care to try and work with that.

You still hadn’t figured out which yet.

Sitting back up, you had a look at the now filthy page. There were tiny indents from the previous sketches that you’d erased and a couple of extremely rough sketches on paper around your workbench. Pencil met paper again, sketching lines and curves but everything was too stiff and unimaginative along with the fact that it didn’t fit your brief and just—

No. This wasn’t your day. As you picked up the eraser to get rid of your latest set of failures, you found a piece of familiar yellow headgear beside your bench. “Are all the ideas feeling terrible?”

A small nod was all you could manage with the frustration churning inside.

Your short teacher took a glance towards the clock at the back of the classroom. Half an hour to go. This designing didn’t need to be finished today but you still needed to have something to work from in the next lesson. You nervously waited to hear what solution or punishment you’d get only to receive a sigh from Power Loader.

“Why don’t you get some air from the studio? There’s only another half hour. Just don’t leave campus early.”

You nodded, knowing what he was getting at. Frustration would lead to more frustration and it would only amount to a mental block, generating more irritation. The spiral of unproductively would get worse and more self-destructive until it became unbearable. Calming down was the best option. Agreeing, you packed up your things as the headgear and ginger hair disappeared further into the classroom.

As you threw your things back into your bag, you wondered where to go. One of the windowsills in the large corridors would be good. It was raining outside and you always felt worse when the weather was bad. Perhaps it was a side effect of your quirk. Placing the sketchbook down against the wall as you would rather it didn’t get crushed in your bag, you pulled out some headphones and decided to cool off with some good music.

Your mind raced back to the previous night. You’d been enjoying your quirk as you usually did… with Todoroki. Despite what he’d said, you smiled. It was fine if he liked someone else. You allowed yourself to wonder if it could be you that he liked. Some sort of storybook cliché where he’d actually confessed to his love but didn’t know it. Nah. That couldn’t be it. Not when there were people like the ginger-haired girl with the big hands and the black-haired girl with the creation quirk in his year.

They were amazing. They were upcoming heroes. You were just someone cheering everyone on from the sidelines; a cheer which couldn’t even be heard. As much as you took pride in your skills, you knew that you’d forever be a world apart from heroes. You were fine with that. You didn’t want the popularity or fame. So you would watch as your gear assisted them and you would smile and feel that you’d at least done something worthwhile.

Even when you wondered if the students you’d helped remembered your name.

Why would they? You were just another gear-head in a support course classroom. You weren’t even outstanding like Hatsume. You smile widened and you felt the facade beginning to crack. You had nothing to complain about seeing as you wanted to melt into the background. Gosh, being a cat was so much easier. All you had to do was be cute and the world would come to you. Well, give or take the odd shady stranger that looked as though they might try and kick you.

There was always the option of confessing, but what would the point in that be? Brutal rejection happened to be well… brutal. Not exactly a desirable experience you wished to go through. So you’d continue to shove down a blush when he came into the design studio. You’d continue to feel a strange warmth in your chest when you heard about his successes in his class from other students.

You’d continue to be unable to look him in the eye as a human but do so as a cat.

Todoroki blinked as he noticed something against a windowsill in one of the corridors. A black notebook? Despite the fact that merely leaving it be would be the best and easiest option, he picked up the item and looked it over. There was something strangely familiar about the object but he couldn’t place where he’d seen it before.

It was none of his business, but he wondered if there would be a name in the front. Opening it, a scrawl of designs met his eyes. No name, but the ideas were proof enough of who it belonged to. For some reason, he couldn’t help but quickly glance through. The neat final designs that had been put together with such care and attention were beautiful. However, it was the messy rough sketches that he preferred. Namely, the personality that shone through in each and every one.

This was important to you. It was always beside you. Wherever you went, this went. It was always beside you when he saw you in the design studio, or in your hand when you wandered through the lunch hall with Hatsume.

Todoroki remembered that he’d seen you walking in the opposite direction only a few moments ago. You usually hung around in your classroom for a few moments after school finished since he’d seen you there when he’d gone to request one of the capsules on his belt be replenished after a training session.

Trying to think of which way you’d have gone if you were leaving school in that direction, he walked off. If he couldn’t find you now, he’d go back to your workbench and leave it there.

He hurried and caught sight of the back of your head turning a corner. How lucky. You exited the school from a back entrance and the bi-colored boy wondered why you’d leave this way. Oh well. Each and every one to their own, right?

He caught the door before it latched shut and found you tucking your bag behind a large bin. As he was about to call out, there was a flash. Standing before him, no taller than his shins was his black fluffy friend.

Surprise and confusion instantly rose to the surface. Wait, that was you? Or wasn’t it? Well, there were probably other black cats in the city, not just your other form, right? Why hadn’t he asked what your quirk had been when he’d been with you getting adjustments? Why hadn’t he shown more of an interest and figured this out—Wait.

He’d confessed. The realisation of everything you knew came crashing down upon him and he almost swayed. You knew everything: his mother and his father along with his scar, his frustration, his pain, his fears… everything.

You knew… everything.

A sudden feeling of vulnerability crashed into him. You had a huge wealth of knowledge on him. Blackmailing him would become child’s-play to you if you really tried.

Then something else came to mind. The cheerio— you’d played with it and always done something silly as a cat to try and get him to laugh. Even when he’d almost frozen his room solid in an emotional outburst similar to what had happened with Sero at the sports festival… you’d still sat on the table when you could have fled through the open window. You had hopped onto his lap and nuzzled your head against his hand.

All the times when you’d brought him a gift while he was doing homework sprung to mind. You’d offered him erasers or pens by batting them across the table. Other days when he was feeling a bit blue you’d move something across the table and away from him, making him chase you around the room a couple of times to get it back.

He’d never deigned to freeze you. Freezing an animal was just cruel, even if he could melt it afterwards.

Not to mention that your little bean paws happened to be so desperately soft. Damaging them with ice would be a tragedy. For both parties involved.

He fought down the urge to turn red at the realisation that you’d been present when he’d changed. Wait, you’d always either left the room quickly or gone out of sight. Had you been saving his modesty?

Coming back to his senses, he realised that his breath was crystallising in front of him and frost was creeping up his arm. There had been one night where the rain had been thrashing down outside and you’d been shivering in the cold. He’d let you curl up beside him atop the futon. When your shivering didn’t stop, he’d put his hand over you and used his quirk just enough to keep your form warm.

You wouldn’t do something with the information. You weren’t the type.

But what about how you saw him? You’d never acted differently around him. What did that mean?

Either way, you were gone for now and he was still holding your sketchbook. Glancing down at your bag, he slipped the sketchbook carefully into a position where it wouldn’t get wet if it rained nor damaged should the bins be moved. Once it was safe, he stood and left.

You couldn’t focus. Not at all. Someone had put your sketchbook back into your bag but how had they known where your bag was? Who would’ve known that the sketchbook belonged to you, anyway? There was no name in it, you remembered that whenever you thought you’d lost it.

So who had recognised your drawing and followed you outside? There wasn’t anyone who knew about your little evening adventures. Some part of you wondered what was so alarming. Your quirk was cat-shifting. No big deal.

The thing that was alarming was the fact that you had heightened senses as a cat. Which also meant a greater sense of smell. You’d caught a whiff of Todoroki on your bag before you’d shifted back and disregarded it. Until you’d noticed the notebook.

Did he know? Had he witnessed the shift or just recognised your bag? Either way you weren’t exactly happy to contemplate what you’d do with this knowledge. You weren’t sure what he’d do with it either. Oh, how had you gotten yourself into this mess?

Huffing softly, you slumped further and buried your face in your arms. Nothing was going right today. You just couldn’t focus. You’d try and then your mind would bring Todoroki up and you’d have a whole inner argument about how this was going to ruin everything but that it was also going to be fine.

“(Y/N)?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin as your name was called. “Y-yes?!” You blushed at your own flustered response and whipped your head up to see whoever it was that needed your assistance. “Todoroki. Um, how can I help you?”

You gaze hit the desk and remained there as he merely stared down at you. With a jolt, you realised that only you and Hatsume were left in the studio out of all the support students. When had the day ended?

“I just wanted to ask if you could note down for one of the capsules of disinfectant to be refilled.” You blinked. Slowly. Nothing he said was registering. “The capsules on the belt of my hero costume.”

At his clarification you nodded and tried to tell him that you’d do it, but the words died in your throat and you were left just sat there. Why wasn’t your voice working? This was the worst. Biting down on the warmth that was rising to your cheeks, you shook your head and gave a firm nod. Professionalism. You could do this!

“That’s fine. I’ll leave a note for Power Loader. It’ll be done before your next training exercise.”

“Thank you.”

He was about to leave. For some reason, you didn’t want him to go. Maybe you were ill today. There must have been a reason that you were doing so badly today. Even if you had a bad time, you never messed up in every aspect of life all at once.

“Uh, how are the adjustments in the heat sensors doing? Is the sensitivity better than before?”

He paused from turning away and politely explained that it had been better. Somehow, you managed to smile and tell him that you were glad it helped.

This was awkward. You should really let him go. Thanking him for stopping by and letting the support course know about the problem, you threw your bag over your shoulder. As you went to pick up your sketchbook from the table, you noticed Todoroki’s gaze lingering on it.

He didn’t attempt to comment on it.

You were leading the way to the door when Hatsume’s cry of alarm reached you. Well, it was more a cry of “Baby!” Either way, it functioned the same as an alarm call. You turned to see what the issue was and were met with a metallic arm shooting towards your face.

You weren’t entirely sure what happened in that moment. Instinct took over.

One moment you were staring at it and the world felt like it’d frozen. The next, you were opening your eyes a mere few inches from the floor with cold hitting your sides. Shaking your head to clear the sudden fuzziness, you looked around. Your bag was just behind you and was bigger than you were. Brilliant. Shifting right in front of him had been at the top of the things you wanted to avoid. Guess there was no running from it now. No chance of hiding this anymore.

Todoroki was looking down at you with his usual poker-faced expression. Well, that solved the mystery of who had put your sketchbook in your bag and who might have seen you shift. It took a few moments for you to realise what it meant. However, you had other things to worry about at this moment in time. Transforming back into a human being would be a good start.

Focusing on your quirk, you let the familiar image of yourself fill your mind. Your hair, eyes, form and all the little details came back and when you opened your eyes again you were seeing the world from the comforting height of a teenager. Fantastic. One issue down and probably many more to go.

You looked at Todoroki and gave him a shy shrug. For some reason, it was all you could think of to offer. There was a silent apology in that shrug but he merely rose a hand to the wall of ice and melted it.“We need to talk.” Despite being used to the lack of emotion in his voice, it had never been so harsh when he’d spoken to you as a cat. It hadn’t been quite as chilly when he’d spoken to you as a support course student.

“Yeah.” You managed out.

He turned and walked out of the classroom. You picked up your bag and followed him, head hung low. You’d blown it. Well and truly blown it. Your little times of happiness beside him as a feline were over.

You’d both left the school and turned into a small side alley just outside the school when he stopped.

He opened his mouth to speak but you knew you had to say something first. You couldn’t take this. Despite the embarrassment and shame coursing through you at being found out like this… You could do it. You’d go first.

“Before you say anything,” you took a small breath and managed to raise your gaze to meet his. Bashful, perhaps, but not weak-willed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I didn’t mean to cause any discomfort, I just enjoyed being in your company. I should have told you or stopped—”

“You enjoyed those evenings?”

You nodded. As much as a part of you hated the attention, you would stand here. You wouldn’t back down. You weren’t a coward. It didn’t matter that you didn’t want to shine brightly and draw attention like the hero course students and Hatsume. You could still muster the courage to say what you wanted to say now.

When push came to shove, you could do it.

“I did. I’m not sure why, but I really did like being there. It was rude of me to hear about what’s going on in your family. That was personal, but I couldn’t just run away or block it out. I didn’t know what to do other than listen.” You shifted slightly, feeling more and more uncomfortable as Todoroki’s gaze remained on you. “I promise I won’t say a word about it to anyone, so don’t worry about that.”

“Why did you come back so many times. It must have been boring after a while.”

You took a moment to collect your thoughts. You’d gotten this far, so you might as well go the whole way. Why was he asking so many questions? It didn’t matter. This was it. You were ready for rejection but at least you’d have it out. You could combat this shyness if you wanted.

“I liked your company. I enjoy being around you and well, I didn’t like seeing you sad. Cheering you up is just like helping the hero course out in another way.”

Inwardly cheering at how flat you’d managed to keep your face for that small confession, you went to move past him. There was no need to get told that he didn’t want you around. You knew that he’d never stop by the bench you’d used to wait on. Those times were gone now.

“I enjoyed having you around too.”

You paused and looked back. A small spark of hope had ignited in your chest. “Would it be okay if I did it again. Just an evening every so often. It’s fine if that’d be strange now.”

“That would be nice.”

You turned fully to see him and gave him a shy smile, unable to stop the redness rising on your cheeks as a joyful warmth filled you from head to toe.

“Would it be alright if we spent an evening like that with you in your human form as well?”

Shhhhh I’m a Ghibli fan and there was a black cat in this fic.

#todoroki shouto #todoroki #shoto todoroki #shoto #my hero academia #my hero academa x reader #boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia x reader #oneshot #fwuff #fwuffy

72 notes · View notes

forehead-enthusiast · 5 years

Text

To the Moon and Never Back

Pairing: Moon!Moonbin x Reader

Genre: Fantasy, fluff, slight moment of angst

Word Count: 1.7k

Summary: You thought the moon was something to be admired from a distance, but as it turns out, he’s much more beautiful up close.

A/N: Okay I have like three things so bear with me: trigger warning for slight suicide mention; somewhat based on the purple moonbin mb poem i made ages ago; I never actually say moonbin’s name in this so tbh project whoever you want

You sat on the roof, clutching a pencil and shivering only slightly. The wind slid through your hair, whispering secrets in your ears in a language you didn’t know. Goosebumps crawled up your arms, but you didn’t mind. It was a full moon tonight.

It had been years since you had started coming up here. It began at first as an escape from real life, from whatever you didn’t have the patience to deal with. You still remembered the first night you stuck your head out the window and decided you could make it to the rooftop if you only tried. And you did. And the moment you caught your breath and confirmed you were stable, you fell in love. You had never known peace until then. The freeway was far in the distance, and only a gentle hum reached your ears. The bushes beneath you rustled at every breeze, and the silhouette of far off trees were just barely visible, practically a mirage. The streetlights drowned out the stars above, but couldn’t overpower what captured your attention most.

The moon was almost completely alone in the ocean of darkness around it, but still shone with dignity and serenity that took your breath away. On that night, years ago, you told yourself that next time, you’d bring your sketchbook. It was a different sketchbook you held now. The one you’d first used had been filled up ages ago, and it sat beneath several others, equally completed. They had sketches and doodles of all you could see from your little spot on the house, but no subject was as prolific as your precious moon. You must’ve had drawings of it at every moment of its phases and then some. You were drawing it now, the scratching of your pencil all that kept you company. Your fingers had traced this image thousands of times by this point, but you were still just as captivated. As you finished erasing a small mistake, you looked up at your model for reference, but were blocked by a young man peering at your drawing.

“What are you doing here?”

The words fell easily off your tongue. You realized their oddness a moment later, and wondered why you hadn’t asked, “Who are you?” or “Why are you on my roof?” You wondered why you hadn’t screamed, hadn’t shoved him off the roof in surprise. Nonetheless, you weren’t scared. If anything, you felt comforted by his presence, and waited for a response.

“I just thought I’d come visit for a change.”

“Oh, I see. Have we met before?”

“Not formally, but we know each other.” He smiled, his eyes scrunching into crescents, and you knew he wasn’t lying.

“Alright, just give me a hint.”

He reached out and tapped on your sketchbook. You looked down at your drawing, back at him, and it clicked. A smile of your own spread across your face. Unbelievable as it was, it somehow made sense. That didn’t make you any more eloquent, though.

“Huh… how about that?”

He giggled a bit, and you giggled back. He felt like an old friend. You supposed that he kind of was. He sat beside you, and you asked if he minded that you had drawn him so often. He laughed again at that, and shook his head. He told you about how he first noticed you, when you had only just started. How he thought you’d get bored quickly, as many do, but that he enjoyed your company despite his resignation. When you didn’t stop climbing out your window, though, he began looking forward to your nightly visits.

“So you just… decided to come on down? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m honored and all, but why? Why me?”

“No one’s ever drawn me with so much…” He paused a bit, bashful. “With so much, um, love.” Not even a second later he held his face in his hands and sputtered, “Oh God, that was so cheesy! You’re probably thinking I’m so presumptuous, I’m sorry, I-” You grabbed his wrist, and countered, “It’s fine, it’s true! Calm down.” He set his hands down, and you internally noted that the moon could blush. He turned to you and grinned shyly, the pink on his cheeks just visible in the light, which you realized, was probably coming from him.

“Could I... draw you now, like this?”

He eagerly nodded, and shifted his weight around, trying to find an acceptable pose. “I haven’t really had to think about this before, I need a second.” Once he settled in, you flipped to a new page in your sketchbook, and began drawing. Your pencil began at his forehead, slipping down to his cheekbones, his jaw. His nose was next, then his eyes, which he struggled to keep from squeezing shut with more nervous smiling. You found yourself forgetting to draw every so often, more mesmerized than ever before. A lifetime later, you finished the last strand of hair falling over his brow, and held up the finished picture. He held out his hands gingerly, then looked to you for approval. You nodded, and he took the pad from you, holding it like it might shatter if gripped too tightly.

“I never thought I’d ever really be drawn. Not like this. I- thank you. It’s wonderful.”

You looked at him as he studied the sketch, butterflies in your stomach. It was rare for you to share drawings with anyone as it was, but to share it with the model of so many pictures, the moon, no less, tickled you with anxious anticipation. Your eyes flicked from the drawing to him, just to check its accuracy. He was so engrossed in the image, with only his eyes betraying how emotional he was. After he had looked for a while though, you knew there was something he was keeping from you.

“Why did you really come visit me? It’s been years since I started, why now?”

He looked up to meet your eyes, then escaped to the drawing again. You could see the turmoil in his eyes as he looked for a satisfactory answer. Eventually, knowing that there wasn’t a fib that would placate you, he sighed, and set down the pad. “I know that you come up here when you’re troubled, or sad, or just exhausted. I loved it when you came up, but I knew that whenever you did, it was because you needed cheering up, and… recently you’ve been coming up more than ever. It’s awful to say, but I didn’t know how much longer you’d be content to sit and not, well…”

You almost answered him reflexively, that no, you’d never even think of doing something like that, but stopped yourself. It had happened before. Just once. You were sitting on the rooftop as usual, and looked down, then up. You wondered how close you would get to your favorite moon before gravity dragged you back down to harsh reality. That day, you went back inside without drawing anything, afraid of your own thoughts. Thinking of it now, you smiled at the fact that the moon you’d longed to jump to was sitting beside you, worried.

“I’m,” you searched for what would best convey your feelings. “I’m okay. I wanted to reach you, you know, and here you are. You can’t get rid of me if you wanted to. No one loves drawing you more than me, right?”

His shoulders subtly but visibly relaxed at your reassurance. A smile, softer this time, warmed his face, and you jokingly condemned him in your mind for not showing you how truly lovely he was sooner. You could’ve filled three sketchbooks just recording every millisecond of this expression. He turned to you, and your heart stopped.

He slid his hands beneath yours, and lifted them gently to his lips. He held your fingers so delicately, graphite-smeared as they were, and set them down carefully a moment later.

“I don’t want to leave you.”

The simple phrase overwhelmed you. Your hands tightened around his, and you desired nothing more than to never let go.

“Don’t. Please.”

“I can’t stay forever.”

“Then… take me with you.”

As the suggestion escaped you, both he and you were stunned by the thought. You couldn’t believe your own boldness, but your heart raced at the prospect. He blinked his way back into clarity, and asked, “Do you really- Don’t you have things you want to stay for? Here?”

You thought for a moment, but were certain in your answer. “You were the only thing that got me through things here. Please take me with you. If you can. Or want, of course, I didn’t even ask if it was okay-”

“Of course it’s okay. I- Nothing would make me happier than having you with me.” The now familiar boyish grin overtook his face again, and reminded you of the only thing you needed.

“Can I bring some sketchbooks?”

He nodded, his eyes still overcrowded by his cheeks, and once you were ready, he wrapped his arms around you. Suddenly, the rooftop was gone. The stars once erased by the city lights burned back into view one by one, until you were surrounded by an ocean of fiery pinpricks. Beautiful though they were, they couldn’t even hope to outshine the glow cast by the man whose arms were wrapped around you still.

You looked up and pushed some of his wind swept hair from his face, and lightly pressed your lips to the forehead you had uncovered. You chuckled a bit, shy at your own actions, but grew serious when you met the eyes of the man before you. He leaned in cautiously, and paused to ask softly, “Can I?” You answered him by closing the distance between you. You never imagined kissing the actual moon could feel so natural and just… right, but his arms around you felt like they belonged there. You knew they did. He pulled away, breathless, and was unable to maintain his stoic expression. He beamed as he spun you around the stars, and you practically squealed with laughter.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

23 notes · View notes