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dollfacefantasy · 3 months

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Cool Rider

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon gets you ready for a ride on his motorcycle

word count: 1.4k

a/n: just a little fluff drabble i've been thinking about while i go back and forth on my other longer fics. imagine this to be a little bit after vendetta when leon's starting to get better. hope everyone enjoys, reblogs and comments are appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

“Quit joking around or you’re not going anywhere,” Leon grunts as he continues to mess around with the tire pressure on the rear wheel of his motorcycle.

“I’m just saying-” you chime before being cut off.

“You’re saying nothing more or I’m changing my mind,” he says and gives you a warning look.

Despite his attempt at being stern with you, affection clouds his eyes. You play along for him and mime zipping your lips. With a sharp exhale and shake of his head at your antics, he returns his focus to fidgeting with the pressure gauge hooked to his bike. But you’re happy just because you saw him smile.

You’d been begging him for months to take you for a ride on his bike. Every time you’d asked, you were met with “no” or “in your dreams.” You’d always ask him why, and he’d just brush it off. Too dangerous. It’s something he does alone. You eventually just gave up. He deserved his space, and you knew he’d seen so much pain and death in his life that he was probably a little overprotective by nature. It came as an absolute shock to you when he approached you last week and asked if you’d wanna go for a ride this weekend. He’d said it so casually, like he hadn’t shot you down time after time before. You weren’t sure what had changed, but a win is a win, right?

Now sitting on the stool by the bench where he kept all his motorcycle stuff, you swing your feet back and forth. As much as you’d been teasing him for the last thirty minutes about taking forever and a half, it was fun seeing him so locked in on his task. You studied his face, the way his brows furrowed and his eyes hardened, his lips curling a little with dedication.

“Hey stalker girl, instead of staring me down, maybe you should finish getting ready,” he teases as he finishes up and starts putting the tools away.

“I am ready,” you say.

“No you’re not. Where’s your helmet?” he asks while walking to you.

“Mmmm… you don’t wear a helmet,” you playfully point out.

You were just being difficult because he was so easy to mess with. You weren’t dumb, and you had no desire for your brains to splatter across some pavement. In general, motorcycles kind of scare you to be honest. If anyone but Leon was driving it, you wouldn’t even consider hopping on the back. So there was absolutely no way you were gonna get on that thing without a helmet strapped on.

“I didn’t ask you if I wear one. Where’s yours?” he says.

He stands between your thighs and looks down at you, taking in your pretty eyes, pouty lips, the face he couldn’t get enough of. His fingers run along your jaw, his thumb stroking over your chin. Every detail had him enraptured. He made fun of you for staring, but truth be told, he was just as guilty. The only difference was he hid it much better than you did.

“I’ll get it in two seconds. You were just taking so long, I figured I had some time to relax,” you joke with a quick peck to his lips, hopping off your seat.

“You better get it. I want your pretty little head kept in one piece,” he murmurs and lays a kiss on your hairline. He lightly swats your ass as you walk away, drawing that laugh from you that he loved to hear. He’s smiling while grabbing the keys, not that you could see it with your back to him. You were easy to mess with too.

“I just don’t think it’s fair that I have to wear one if you don’t,” you say as you lift the helmet up and inspect the one he’d bought for you.

“Too bad. I know what I’m doing. You don’t. God forbid I actually let you do this, and you end up with a concussion or something,” he grumbles while grabbing the keys.

“If we get in a crash though, your experience won’t matter. We’ll both go flying all the same. Then you’ll be the one with the concussion or worse, and I’ll be flat outta luck having to take care of you,” you explain while fidgeting with the straps on the helmet.

“Here, gimme that,” he says, taking it from you. He fixes the straps and gets them where they should be. Yeah, you’re being intentionally stubborn, but you had a good point and he knew it. “If it’s so important to you, I can wear one too.”

“It is important to me. I always want you safe,” you say, taking a moment to be genuine between all your teasing.

“I know, baby,” he says softly. It’s all he could say. Obviously, with the life he had, he couldn’t “be safe” all the time. But god, you made him want to try.

He gives you one last kiss before putting the helmet on you. He fastens it into place, making sure it’s nice and tight. Tilting your head around, he inspects it thoroughly. Has to be certain this shell of hard plastic is gonna do its job and protect his precious girl.

After he’s done examining the efficacy of the helmet, he pulls back to give you a once over. Really look at you.

“Does it look good?” you ask, voice slightly muffled.

He chuckles and nods. “Yeah, it looks good. Pretty cool,” he confirms.

Of course you looked more than good. The sight of you completely melted his heart. He just didn’t know how to say it. He’d never been too good with words when you were involved. You made everything foggy, hard to think.

He couldn’t see the grin on your face right now, but he could just about feel the excitement radiating off of you as you pulled him into a hug, the shiny dome covering your head resting over his heartbeat. His palm runs up and down your back before you pull away and head to the motorcycle.

“Are we ready to go?” you ask.

He could hear the anticipation in your voice too. It was infectious, made him want to get on and speed off without looking back. But he still had a little hesitation left. Rationally, he knew he’d done everything he could to make sure this would go smoothly. In all likelihood, you would just have some fun and then come back home and everything would be fine. The irrational part of him just wanted that to be 100% guaranteed. He’d lost so many people. He couldn’t survive losing you, especially to something as trivial as a motorcycle accident.

But he was stalling now, and he knew it. You deserved this. Deserved to have the fun he’d offered you. You’d been so good to him for the last several months, putting up with him when it would’ve been reasonable to leave him in your rearview mirror. He swallows his doubt and nods.

But as he sees you start to look at it like you’re gonna get on, he stops you.

“Wait a second,” he says, starting to shrug off his jacket, “It’s cold out, and with the wind and everything. Just put this on.”

He can’t see how you lovingly roll your eyes at this which is probably for the best anyways. Knowing him, he’d probably get all huffy and defensive about it. Argue the practicality of his decision rather than just admitting he’d gone soft for you.

Regardless, you let him wrap the leather around you, sliding your arms into the sleeves. You give him a thumbs up, and he pulls you close to him, thoughtlessly planting a smooch on the cool helmet like he’d normally do to your head.

“You better hold on tight. This isn’t a video game. You don’t get extra points for riding with no hands,” he teases before grabbing the extra helmet he had and putting it on.

This time you give a mock salute and watch him swing his leg over the seat. He waves you over and you gladly get on behind him. The warmth of your front presses against his back. He looks down, admiring the way your hands lock around his waist, your arms adorned in the white stripes of his jacket.

He wheels the bike out of the garage, taking a deep breath as checks to see that the street is clear. One more sigh and mental reassurance later, he’s speeding out onto the road. He knows it’s all worth it as soon as he hears your laughter and feels you clinging to him even harder.

#leon kennedy x reader #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil fluff

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strawberrystepmom · 8 months

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cw omegaverse, cw yandere, cw predator prey dynamics. f!omega reader, alpha!geto. wc 698

pt. 2

“Fuck,” you mutter to no one in particular while inspecting the ingredients label of a jar of sesame paste to try and hide the flush that you know is painting your cheeks and the bridge of your nose crimson.

It has been a long time since you’ve felt like this and your hand shakes as you barely hold onto the jar enough to slide it onto the shelf in front of you.

You don’t even need sesame paste, you just need a distraction. Something to keep you from focusing on the twist of your stomach and the sweat prickling across your hairline and the back of your neck.

Today was clearly not the day to forego your heat suppressant, limbs feeling simultaneously light as air and heavy as lead as you drag your feet down the aisle with a basket dangling from the crook of your elbow. Your head hurts, your senses are dulled, but you don’t miss the clearing of a throat behind you nor the way it makes the hair on the back of your neck stand on end.

“Excuse me?”

The voice is rich as the cake you allowed yourself to indulge in on your last birthday and it wraps around you like a velvet ribbon. As if you cannot control yourself, you turn your head and gasp looking at the man who is beckoning you in a way that makes you feel completely out of body.

He’s tall, his raven hair spills across his shoulders, and his broad chest blocks out the sight of anyone on either side of him. Swallowing but your throat feels more dry after doing so somehow, your pulse speeds up as realization dawns.

Alpha. This man, Suguru Geto, is an alpha.

“I’m sorry, I know this is a strange thing to ask, but are you…” he trails off, indicating you should know what he’s asking, but your blank stare tells him otherwise. Your eyes are narrowed but suspiciously glossy and he knows, instinctively, the answer is yes.

You are an omega standing in the middle of a busy grocery store filling the entire place with the aroma of bergamot and vanilla. Unbonded, he can tell as his dark eyes dip downward and check out the contents of your small basket - all for one, he can tell. No ring. No visible mating mark.

Brave or stupid, he can’t tell which.

Your scent is overwhelmingly sensual to the man, his mouth filling with saliva if he dares inhale too deeply, and he can feel his natural urges overtaking any sense he has left in your presence.

“Forgot my suppressants for a couple of days,” you clarify with an embarrassed whisper, eyes still narrowed despite the pull you feel to go to him - to give to him - and you take a step backward to put distance between your bodies, giving yourself a victory in the battle of wills.

“Better be careful being out here then, you’re bound to catch a lot of attention.”

His voice is just as velvety despite the low note of warning in it and if you were less controlled by your base urges in this moment, you’d bare your teeth in an overly polite smile and walk away. Right now, though, you are frozen in place and your eyes meet his. They are molten bronze framed by the darkest lashes you’ve ever seen and you’ve never felt as pinned as you do right now, beneath his gaze.

Like a frightened rabbit, you become skittish. Two further steps backward put even more space behind you and you turn on your heel, eyes wide as you look over your shoulder to have the last word.

“Thank you for your concern but I’ll be fine.”

He nods politely and plasters on a serene smile, inhaling just deep enough that his pupils dilate after another overwhelming rush of you inside his head.

“Take care,” he raises his voice to speak back and you shiver, stomach twisting even more as you fumble your way toward the checkout and force yourself to keep looking forward to prevent running back in his direction.

You’ll be back in a day or two, Suguru assumes, and his alpha instincts rarely fail when it comes to getting what he wants and he’s more than content to wait.

#cw omegaverse #cw yandere #cw predator prey #kendall writes #suguru geto x reader #geto x reader

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jessiexcorner · 1 year

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Heartbreak Highs

Description: Amerie, Harper, and (Y/n). The three were the best of friends until the incest map. A heartbreak high x reader.

"I met Ameire when I was five."

A little brown girl with blue overalls and a pink shirt walks over to two girls one blond hair and the other (h/c). The blond draws a crocodile while the (h/c) hands her green crayons as she makes her own painting. “What’s that?” The new girl asks,

“It's a crocodile.” The blond responds.

“It's shit.” The brown girl states. The blond drops her pencil to flip off the new girl, making her smile, while the (h/c) hair girl giggles.

"For a long time, it had just been me and Harper, but with Ameire we were unstoppable."

The three girls run as a teacher chases them through the hall, “Stop it!” The girls giggle and run faster.

"They were my ride or dies. Nobody could come between us. Well, that was until the incest map. Ameire and Harper were super into romance, not that I wasn’t, it's just they tended to watch people.”

(Y/n) takes out her books from her locker clutching onto them as her friends, Amire and Harper giggle holding their books while staring at a couple making out against the lockers. The (h/c) color girl tries to pull them away from the scene but they don't budge.

"In so a creepy way.”

The girls now older, still watch as a couple fights making fun and guessing what the couple could probably be saying. “Oh, I swear to god Jessica you know I'm good for it eh?” Harper makes her voice deeper playing the man.

“If you touch her again I’ll fuckin smash ya, ya cheatin’ dog.” Ameire uses a high pitch.

“No babe, I'm fuckin’—“

“Kiss me!” Both girls make kissing noises. (Y/n) watches the teens quietly shaking her head.

“I don’t exactly know when it started to happen, but somehow I ended up drifting apart from the two,”

Amerie and Harper giggle as they write on the Incest map while (y/n) stands in the corner watching quietly. “You’re obsessed,” Harper comments as Amerie draws a line with a gold marker across her name and dusty.

“Destined,” Amerie says with a smile, (Y/n) looks down playing with the small rock on the floor, kicking it around, bored.

“Harper tried to include me in their activities, Amerie on the other hand seems to forget me more often. Maybe it's because Harper knew me for longer. Eventually, Harper left me behind too. I used to miss them from time to time and the fun we used to have, but now when I look back at those times, I remember they mostly kept me around because their parents trusted me, and if they were around ‘(Y/n) the good kid who gets grades and doesn’t do drugs’, they thought maybe their kids wouldn’t either, which gave harper and Amerie more freedom to actually, go out and do drugs. I completely stopped talking to them after the fight.”

“Ugh, I can't wait for the festival,” Amerie states sitting down on (Y/n)’s floor while eating a bunch of junk candy. Home worksheets thrown on the floor, harper lays on (y/n)’s bed taking some junk food from Amerie.

“I know right, I even got Cash to come and sell us some drugs, we are going to get so wasted.” Harper boasts. (Y/n) sits on her desk trying to finish her homework, ignoring the girls.

“Ah, no way? I can't wait, I got the tickets too! Look,” Amerie says taking out the tickets from her backpack and holding them out for Harper to see. Harper takes the tickets to inspect them noticing something.

“Am, there are only two tickets,” Harper states sitting up now.

“What?” Amerie looks up.

“You only got two tickets, what about (Y/n)?” Harper asks confused.

“Oh, well, she didn't give me the money for it so,” Amerie says glancing at the (h/c) hair-colored girl who sighs.

“I'm not coming.”

“What? Why not?” Harper questions.

“Because I don't want to keep being your guy’s babysitter when you get high or drunk.”

“..well you can just, drink with us,” Amerie states as if it's the easiest solution in the world.

“No, I can't Amerie, because if you knew anything you would know I don't want to.” (Y/n) snaps a little putting her finished homework away.

“..why are you so pissed off? It's just—“ Amerie gets cut off.

“Why am I so pissed off? Amerie. It's like the only time you guys ever hang out with me is because you want something from me or when I have use to you!”

“That's not true.” Harper defends herself and Amerie.

“Yes, it is! You only hang out with me because your parents think that you wouldn't possibly be going out to get drunk with me, and you guys are literally here because you wanted to copy my homework answers. You never hang out with me anymore just doing things like normal, it's always watching the latest hook-up or gossip or getting high and drunk. You never even invite me out anymore.” (Y/n) says angrily shaking a little trying to keep calm. The other two girls are silent and look at each other before collecting their things ready to leave.

“We’ll talk when you've calmed down,” Amerie says picking up her back.

“Oh fuck you, Amerie, just leave, I don't wanna talk to you again.” (Y/n) snaps. The brown girl walks out leaving Harper.

“..I,” Harper starts but then pauses not knowing what to say, muttering an apology while she walks off following Amerie, leaving (Y/n) by herself.

“After that, Harper would occasionally text me, and ask to try to hang out and watch movies like old times, but it wasn't the same. There was always this weird tension. I made new friends though, better friends. Quinni and Darren. Those two are actual ride or dies. They made me feel like I didn't have to pretend or have to get high for them to like me, they treated me right. I had almost forgotten about Harper and Amerie for a while, well that was until that night..”

At school grounds early in the morning, (Y/n) walks up to Quinni and Darren who are talking before someone bumps in between the two, squealing, ‘Dusty spoke to me!’ And giggling. “‘Dusty spoke to me’ what a pick me bitch. Also rude.” Darren mocks the brown girl who bumped them. (Y/n) chuckles lightly, agreeing.

“Maybe she didn't see us,” Quinni says kindly giving Amerie the benefit of the doubt.

“Oh please, Check the material. We are beautiful, exquisite jellyfish.” Darren says linking arms with both girls, brushing Quinni’s hair lightly, “of course they saw us.” They all walk heading to the school building. (Y/n) looks at her phone, sending a quick message to a contact labeled ‘H.’, ‘you coming soon?’ There’s a pause before the person responds with ‘yea see you there.’ The trio walks towards the steps seeing a new face. “Fresh blood,” Darren whispers to the two girls, (Y/n) looks up from her phone noticing a boy in a yellow t-shirt and multi-colored striped pants, asking for directions. As they walk past him to the stairs, the boy makes eye contact with (Y/n) giving a small awkward smile. (Y/n) smiles back and walks with her friends up the stairs, “What was that?” Darren questions,

“What?”

“Were you trying to flirt with him? Oh, baby (Y/n), growing up so fast.” They say teasing.

“Shut up.” (Y/n) ignores the taller stylish kid. The three are about to head to class when someone shouts gaining everyone’s attention.

“Oi! There’s a fully-gacked sex map in the old stairwell. It's called the incest map!” The person shouts walking away, everyone intrigued follows, heading to the stairwell. (Y/n) looks over noticing Amerie stood still with a look of panic. Both girls rush to the stairwell, (Y/n) catching up with her friends. She looks over the map noticing it has grown much bigger than the last time she saw it, then again she stopped coming her long before the fight. She notices new names, including those of her friends Quinni and Darren, she looks over and notices her own name, not connected to anyone just having the words ‘Fish.’ In bold written in familiar handwriting. She tries to swallow the lump in her throat. She notices Missy walking away from her girlfriend upset about what she saw on the map.

“Darren jerked you off? Nice bro, you into dudes now?” A kid, Spider, teases their friend Anthony, also named Ant.

“Little cheeky huh?” Dusty comments, making a crude hand gesture.

“Who says I'm a dude?” Darren retaliates.

“Oh! Look (Y/n)’s a fish!” A couple of boys laugh. “Awe, I can change that for you if you want (Y/n)” Spider says making kissy faces at the girl who clenches her jaw. Looking over at Amerie who looks panicked and avoiding the girl’s gaze. Quinni searches the wall for her name before finding it, labelled ‘lazy kebab’

“That’s not true, what’s a lazy kebab? Spider what's a lazy kebab?” Quinni calls the guy who is said to spread the rumor.

The kids are called for a school meeting and they all sit in the hall. “It's mostly kids from our level, it must be someone we know,” Quinni comments her observation to the other two, who sit down.

“It's probably Spider or one of those idiots. Most of its bullshit anyway,” Darren says sitting in the middle comforting the girls. (Y/n) sits quietly beside Darren, glaring at Amerie, and forcing the kid in the seat next to her to move, leaving an empty seat beside her.

“So crazy right?” Amerie comments. (Y/n), although sitting a couple of seats away, hears this and scoffs. A girl walks into the hall wearing a grey shirt and red pants and having a shaved head.

“Holy shit is that Harps? Oh my god her hair,” Sasha comments sitting next to Amerie, she throws a paper ball at Harper only to miss. Most kids turn to look at the girl. Harper walks towards (Y/n) and sits next to her in the empty seat quietly.

Amerie notices and stands calling out, “Harper,” only to be ignored and told to sit down by the principal.

“Fish, really couldn’t think up anything more clever than that?” (Y/n) comments blankly not looking at the girl next to her, Harper turns to glance at (Y/n) and mutters an apology.

“I didn't write it.”

“I know but, you didn’t stop her either.” (Y/n) sighs as she looks over at Harper before turning away and focusing on the principal. Both sit quietly next to each other.

There is complete silence. “I am a woke woman.” The principal starts. “I enjoy sex as much as the next person.” She states, making a couple of kids laugh and snicker. “But reputation is everything and this map has jeopardised your reputations and the reputation of our school on the first day back. We are currently in the process of contacting all the parents of everyone on this map and have strongly suggested that there are to be no more parties, shindigs, or gathos.” The students erupt in protest, while Amerie continues to look at Harper and (Y/n), who are sitting quietly. “Hey, hey, unsupervised parties equals alcohol. Alcohol equals poor choices. The risk-taking behaviors outlined on this map are unacceptable. Hartley High prides itself on being a safe environment.” Darren laughs at this. “But clearly this is a wake-up call that we are not doing enough. Oh, and we will find out who did this.” Amerie gulps. “Get to class, go, go, go.” Students stand and head to their classes, (Y/n) and Harper stand and walk together while Darren and Quinni follow.

“Harper, (Y/n) oi!” Amerie calls out only to be ignored and stopped by the principal. “Miss Wadia. Come with me.”

Ameire sits in principal Stacy’s office. “Well, I’ve had quite the education this morning, Amerie. “Wristy? Oh, right.” She reads off her phone. “Doughy? Fish?” Her dog, Joan of Bark, whimpers sitting in his bed. “I think I can work out ‘tongue punch in the fart box.’” She sighs and puts her phone down, while Amerie sits smiling. “I know it was you, Amerie. One of our maintenance staff saw you in the stairwell multiple times. Who else was in on it? Your usual accomplice, Harper? Did you also force (Y/n) into it with you two?”

“Nobody else was in on it,” Amerie says confidently no longer smiling.

"Do you know who I just got off the phone with? The Guardian, Amerie. The Guardian."

"...Okay?"

"Were all of these acts consensual?"

"I guess." Amerie shrugs confused.

"Are your mates using protection?" The principal questions.

"I don't know."

"Well, how can you know that Alyssa scissored Nina, but not know if they're using contraception?" She asks suspiciously.

"I don't think you have to use contraception when you scissor someone, Miss." Amerie sarcastically retorts.

"I'd say that's a very dangerous assumption actually, Amerie. What do we have to do to get through to you? We've done the classes. We've watched the videos. We've had the police consultants in. And yet, here we are with this map." Miss Stacy scolds, "One foot out of line, one late slip, one phone infraction, and I will expel you. Understood?"

"Can I go to class now?"

"Yes, you may."

"Okay."

"Wait! You call this the Incest Map. I'm assuming that's just a play on words and not the actual..."

"Play on words, Miss." She quickly assures the principal.

"Okay, good. Now, get out of my office before I do expel you, by the count of three. One, two, three!" She sighs.

Pt.2; https://www.tumblr.com/jessiexcorner/716409910079913984/heartbreak-highs-pt-2?source=share

#heartbreakhigh #heartbreakhighamerie #amerie #harper mclean #malakai #malakai x reader #harper x reader #heartbreakhigh2022 #darren #quinni #heartbreakhighdarren #heartbreakhighquinni #heartbreak high x reader

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devildom-moss · 5 months

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Sfw, 10, w/ Levi x mc? Thinking about that one chat where he shows up drunk to a student council meeting and having to take care of him urrggg

Honestly such a cute first request!

1 year anniversary flash request event - SFW

(Leviathan x gn!MC)

Prompt 10 - Drunk Tipsy

You were just sitting in the library, studying by yourself, when Levi came up to you and sank down on the floor next to your chair. He pressed his cheek against your thigh and clung to your legs tightly.

“What’s gotten into you?” You were taken aback by his sudden clinginess – in public no less. He was never this affectionate. How was he not dying of embarrassment right now?

“Feel warm, MC. Hel’me.” Levi’s words slurred as he looked up at you, his eyes wide and watery. A deep pink flush painted his cheeks up to his ears.

You pressed your hands to his cheeks and forehead. He didn’t feel particularly warm or feverish. You smoothed your hand through his hair. “Are you sick, baby?”

Levi broke into a grin and released your legs from the grip of one of his arms to dig around in his bag. He produced a 700ml glass bottle with Ruri-chan surrounded by a bunch of cherry blossoms and cherries on the label. “S’all gone now.”

“Cherry juice? Is it cursed or something?” You took the bottle from him to inspect it, checking the nutritional label for any warnings. You sighed, “Baby, this has a 17% alcohol content. You drank all of it just now?”

“Mhm,” Levi nodded cutely, “big oopsie.”

“Big oopsie, indeed. That’s like 6 glasses of fortified wine.” You chuckled and began to gather your things. With everything put away, you pat Levi’s head. “Come on, baby, up you go. Let’s get you somewhere quieter for a while.”

“What for? Are we going to makeout?” Levi stood up excitedly, almost collapsing under the sudden alcohol-induced vertigo. You caught him in your arms and led him towards the nearest exit.

“Careful now, baby. Just take it slow and lean on me if you have to.” You kept your hand firmly on Levi’s back.

“Can I do it jus‘cause I wan’?” Levi asked, not waiting for permission before he balled the hem of your shirt up in his fist.

When you finally got him to an empty, dim-lit common room with a couch, you sat him down carefully. Then, you set your bag on the floor and sat down at one end of the couch.

“Why s’far away?” Levi pouted. “You’re mad at me?”

“No, baby,” you reassured him. You pat your thigh gently. “Lay down for a bit, okay?”

“Pillow MC?” Levi cracked a hopeful smile. You nodded. “WAH! I’mtheluckiestdemonever!!”

Levi dived into your lap, snuggling into your body. You laced your fingers through his hair and scratched his scalp gently. “Comfy?”

“Comfy-cozy like a normie.” Levi nuzzled your thigh. The tint on his cheeks grew a deeper shade of pink. “S’happy I could die.”

“If Lucifer finds out you got drunk at school, you might actually die,” you teased while still scratching his head. He let out a quiet yelp. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll keep you safe. Just rest for now. I have water in my bag whenever you get thirsty. Everything will be okay. I’ve got you.”

“Promise?” Levi turned his head to look up at you. His face was still flushed, and his eyes were large and trusting.

“I promise.” You leaned down and placed a kiss on his forehead.

Levi turned quickly in an attempt to hide his smile and blush in the flesh of your thighs. He mumbled, “love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

A/N: requests are still open for the rest of today if anyone else wants to enter. (rules here)

#moss 1 year event #anon #requests #moss 1 year event sfw #gn!mc #leviathan #obey me leviathan #leviathan x reader #leviathan fluff #leviathan x mc

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harlowcomehome · 11 months

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Bentleys and babies:

A Father’s Day fic. 😌

“Daddy! Daddy!” Jade crawled into bed, lightly tapping at Jack's face to wake him up.

“Hmmm?” he groaned, rubbing his eyes. “What's wrong Jadey?”

“There’s an emergency! I need you to come to the living room! Quick!” She hopped off the bed and ran out of the room. Jack who was still half asleep, and now fully panicking, quickly put on a pair of new balance slides and stumbled his way into the living room.

“What's wrong?” He tried to adjust his eyes to what he was seeing but he was pretty helpless without his glasses.

You already knew that he would forget to put them on, so you had a pair ready for him to wear. You quickly ran over to him, giving him his glasses and then standing back with the girls.

Jack had been busy doing press for his album, but you made him promise to be settled at home for Father’s Day. While he was away, you and the girls got to work, making him a few homemade gifts.

You and Jade made a giant banner, which the three of you were holding up for him. It was covered in flowers and hearts made out of watercolor paints, and giant bubble lettering that you had to do yourself.

“Happy Father’s Day!” is what the banner read, simple and to the point but the effort was definitely there.

Hazel had made him some cookies, she had gotten better at baking over the years and did it fairly often. He always requested chocolate chip and walnut cookies, they were easy to make so she didn’t complain about it.

“Wait, so there isn’t a fire?” He teased realizing Jade was only being dramatic for the sake of him getting out of bed.

Lucky, ran over to him and pawed at his legs. Jack bent down to pick up the family dog before walking over to you and the girls. “This is for me?” He asked Jade teasingly and she couldn’t help but giggle.

“Well yes? You’re my daddy, duh” she giggled again.

Jack looked over at you, realizing you had dressed up for him. You were wearing a light purple summer dress and he couldn’t stop staring at how it hugged you. You pretended not to notice, subtly smiling to yourself.

Hazel brought Jack over a gift bag and you asked him to sit down to open the gift, his brows furrowed.

“I have to sit for this?”

“You might want to” you played coy, shrugging as you took Lucky from him and placed him safely back on the floor.

Jack held the bag up, it was light and you couldn’t contain your excitement. He always did this with gifts, he usually tried to guess what it was before he opened it but you were impatient.

“Open it!”

“Okay! Okay!” He laughed as he took the tissue paper out of the bag, he saw a key in the bag. The leather covering exposed exactly what kind of car it was.

He gasped, looking at you first and then the girls. Hazel smirking because she had been there for a lot of the process and had heard her dad discuss this car several times.

“Baby, you didn’t?” His hand was covering his mouth and he was nearly frozen.

Hazel and Jade shared giggles as they watched their dad remain in total shock.

Hazel handed you your phone out of her pocket and you called Clay, “You can pull into the driveway now!”

Just then you heard the rev of an engine and the four of you walked to the front of your house, you practically dragged Jack outside.

The car he had been talking to you about for the last year or more, was now in his driveway. It was a Bentley from the current year. It had luxury customized interior and was completely customized to Jack specifically.

He saw it and his jaw dropped.

He was speechless, standing at the top of the driveway as Clay got out of the car, tossing you the extra key.

“Surprised huh?” Clay laughed as his nieces ran to hug him.

“How did you keep this a secret?” He laughed, standing in front of the car and inspecting the exterior. “How did I not see this on any of the credit card statements?”

“You are so analytical” you laughed, walking over to him and holding him closer to you by the waist. “I’ll explain later but for now, do you like it?”

“I love it! Can we go for a drive?” He turned to you with a big smile on his face.

“Yeah! That’s also why I had Clay come. Go change your shoes!” You giggled looking down at his slides.

He ran inside and the girls were giggling as they poked and played with their uncle.

“I’ve never seen him that shocked in my entire life” Clay laughed and you did too.

“His face was like this” Hazel mimicked the stunned look on Jacks face making you, Clay and Jade laugh.

Jack came running out of the house ten minutes later in an entirely different outfit and his sunglasses. “I can’t be looking bummy in my new car. Especially when you look so beautiful. I also had to brush my teeth” he laughed.

You felt your cheeks warm up and he kissed you as he jogged to the passenger side to open your door for you.

“Thank you Mr. Harlow” you giggled.

“That’s Daddy Harlow”’ he winked as he walked over to the driver's side. You both waved at the girls and Clay as you pulled out of the driveway.

Jack drove to the end of the street, parking the car on the side of the road.

“Baby, thank you so fucking much” he practically shouted and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride for pulling something so big off.

He leaned over to kiss you, you could feel his kisses getting sloppier by the second, his hand reaching up against your neck.

You pulled back, honestly needing to come up for air. “You’re welcome, baby! You work so hard and do so much for us, it’s the least I could do. I love you so much.”

“I love you too, so damn much. This fucking interior is so-“ he rubbed his hands across the steering wheel.

“Sexy huh?” You wiggled your eyebrows.

“Now I know you didn’t wear that dress for no reason right?” He rasped, clearly in a mood.

“Jackman!” You giggled. “It’s daylight!”

“So tonight?” He chuckled but you knew he wasn’t joking.

“Yeah, your mom already said she’d watch the girls” You bit your lip.

“You thought of everything today, didn’t you?”

“It’s your day!” You smiled knowing he deserved it all.

“You knew better than to kiss me like that in this car too” he smirked, his dimple prominent.

“Mhm, put it in drive baby.”

The two of you drove around for an hour just talking about the future, your love, and all the things in between.

#Jack Harlow #Jack Harlow x reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow blurb #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow imagines #Jack harlow fluff #dad! jack

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talesfromthesnogbox · 10 months

Text

Nailed It

Summary: Eddie paints Steve's nails, Steve realizes some stuff. That's it, that's the fic.

Words: 1,745

Notes: This is all because I got my nails done on the weekend and thought "hmm, it's like super intimate having someone touch your hands for the better part of an hour"

AO3

-----

“So, whaddya say Harrington, yours next?”

His Saturday afternoons off had become Steve’s sacred Eddie days. He loved hanging out with Robin, but she usually worked the closing shift Saturday, and ever since adopting Eddie into their rag-tag group, Steve found himself wanting to hang out with him more.

On this particular Saturday afternoon, Steve and Eddie found themselves in Eddie’s messy bedroom of the new townhouse the government had gifted the Munsons. It wasn’t anything unusual for them, lounging on Eddie’s bed, a joint half-smoked between the two of them, a Bowie tape on in the background. But today, Eddie had pulled out something new.

From his closet, he’d pulled a dusty basket out, filled with nail polish in a rainbow of shades. He’d picked a forest green one, and got to work on himself, buffing his nails carefully and painting the varnish in smooth coats. Steve watched aptly, almost missing Eddie’s question.

“Sorry?”

Eddie smirked, and gestured to the basket. “Pick a shade, you want in?”

Steve scoffed. “Isn’t nail polish—”

“Dude, if the next words outta your mouth are ‘for girls’, I—”

“No! No, that’s… I just… I don’t think it really fits my whole…” Steve waved his hands around his torso. “You know? You’re… well you’re you, it goes with the whole metal thing. I’m…”

“Hawkins royalty?” Eddie deadpanned.

“Come on, that’s not what I meant. You don’t think it would look out of place wearing black nail polish with my whole… I dunno… prep thing?”

The other boy scoffed. “Who said it had to be black polish? There’s a world of colour here Harrington, pick one.”

Steve eyed the basket carefully, looking through all the options. Eddie really did have a wide array of colours to choose from. It was clear Eddie used nail polish as yet another way to express his loud personality, stomping over gender norms and challenging people’s perception of who he is by the array of soft pinks next to the shiny black and vibrant red. He thumbed over the tops, picking up a few colours he thought could look nice, pretty even.

It had taken El calling Steve pretty for him to understand that it wasn’t just something you could call girls. Boys could be pretty too, hell he’d even thought that on a few occasions, seeing men in passing with soft billowy shirts and perfectly coiffed hair. Steve looked back up at Eddie, his tongue between his lips as he focused on steadying his non-dominant hand, his hair half tied up falling in his eyes… and oh, he thought, a moment of understanding washing over him, Eddie is also sort of… pretty.

His cheeks burned red and he turned his attention back to the basket of varnish in front of him, picking a random colour from the bunch. It was fairly neutral, a soft terra cotta orangey brown that didn’t seem to be totally opaque; he thought it would look nice against his skin. “This one?”

Eddie nodded his head in approval of Steve’s choice, shaking his hands to dry the paint on his own nails. “Go wash your hands, scrub the gunk under your nails, I’ll start after mine are dry.”

Once Steve’s hands were sufficiently clean, Eddie got to work. He shook the bottle and twirled it between his hands, then took Steve’s hands in his to inspect his canvas. Steve almost immediately flushed.

You see, Steve loved holding hands with the girls he’d dated. It was customary to hold a girl’s hand while you walked, or over the table waiting for dinner, but he’d never had his hands held so delicately by someone else.

Eddie thumbed over Steve’s nails, checking for rough or sharp edges. He definitely didn’t notice how Steve gawked at him.

“Looks good man, tell me if you hate the colour and I can start over.”

Steve nodded, speechless in the moment while Eddie shook the little bottle again and twisted the lid. He took Steve’s hand again, shaking it a little.

“Dude, let go, you’re tense as hell.”

Steve chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, just not used to this.”

“Don’t worry big boy, I’ve gotcha.” Eddie threw to him with a wink.

Steve flushed at Eddie’s words, watching him go to work on his nails. The other boy was once again lost in concentration, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips as he swiped the paint over Steve’s pinky finger. He gave Steve a look, searching for approval with the colour, which Steve nodded to, and let Eddie continue.

It was a wonder to Steve just how soft Eddie’s touch was. His hands were rough in a way that he could tell Eddie had been helping his uncle with their new vegetable garden in the backyard, the tips of his fingers calloused from playing his Warlock. But despite all that, his touch was just so damn gentle. Loud, boisterous Eddie with the touch of an angel.

“You good up there Steve-o?”

Steve blinked, and shook some hair from his eyes, coming out of his Eddie-induced trance. “What? Yeah, yeah I’m fine, why?”

“Well I’ve asked you like three times what you think Robin is gonna say about this.”

“O-oh.” Steve chuckled as a deep flush painted his cheeks. “Robs will love it, she’s begged me to let her paint my nails every time she stays the night like a ‘proper slumber party’, maybe I’ll actually let her do it sometime.”

“Oh? And why haven’t you?”

She’s not you.

Steve shrugged away his answer, brushing off Eddie’s question. Every instinct within him told him to flirt, but this was Eddie, this wasn’t some random Hawkins girl he’d met up with on a whim. The Harrington Charm™ wasn’t meant for just anybody and —oh… did he want to flirt with Eddie?

“Dude.” Eddie snorted. “You look like you just saw a ghost. You’re not gonna hurl on me, are you?”

“You wish Munson.” What???

Eddie’s brow furrowed and he paused. “No, I really don’t actually.”

“Yeah, no you’re right.”

The other boy tightened the cap on the nail polish bottle, setting it aside. “Are you like… good? Like are you okay man?”

Steve straightened, taken aback by Eddie’s question. “Yeah, yeah! Totally. I’m great, I’m just…” Eddie looked at him expectantly as he looked down to check out his nails. “Do you think they need another coat?”

Eddie smiled and took Steve’s hands again. “That can definitely be done. But I think they need to dry off a bit more first.”

“Cool.” Steve and Eddie locked eyes, Eddie still holding Steve’s hands.

“I can like… let go if you want me to.”

“Yeah… no… yeah I’m good like this.”

“Cool.” Eddie echoed Steve, not letting go. A few moments passed, before Eddie broke the tension with a sharp inhale. “Alright I think they’re dry enough for round two.” He got back to work, and this time, Steve had no issue unabashedly staring at his friend.

The tongue poke of concentration was back, and Steve wondered if he even knew he was doing it. His hair was a mess as per usual, but today he’d pulled the upper half of it back into a messy bun, leaving his neck exposed. His jaw looked strong, clenched, and his neck long and biteable. Biteable. I’ve never thought someone’s neck looked biteable. Eddie wore a tank top today, loose around his thin frame, but Steve noticed the definition in his arms; it was clear that toting around amps for Corroded Coffin had been paying off, among other things.

But still, his touch was so incredibly soft.

People had Eddie all wrong. Sure, he was an oddball at times, making nerdy references, listening to loud music, wearing all the chains and the leather and the hanky that alluded to his preference for S&M, but he wasn’t some big scary mean nerd. Eddie could be a lot, but he could also be caring, and sensitive, and funny. He didn’t take bullshit from his friends, he held his inner circle to a higher standard, and knew that they’d expect that of him in return. Eddie was good, and oh god, do I have a crush on Eddie?

Steve flinched with the realization, Eddie smacked his hand, bringing him back to the present. “Gonna make me get it all over you, hold still.” And wasn’t that something Steve had probably said in a much different scenario.

When he was done, Eddie pulled Steve’s hands up to eye-level to admire his work. “Not bad, usually Red complains that the colour bled into her cuticles but I think she just likes to complain. Whaddya think?”

Steve (reluctantly) took one of his hands out of Eddie’s grasp to look at his newly painted nails. It actually looked quite nice, and something about the fresh coat of paint made him feel different, like he was breaking out of a mould he once shaped.

“It looks awesome, thanks man.”

Eddie smiled bashfully, fiddling with the bottle. “No sweat. Hey, give it a sec and I’ll give you some lotion.” He pulled out a green tube and spread a dollop on each of Steve’s palms. “Wayne swears by this stuff in the winter, his knuckles get really bad.” With both of his thumbs, Eddie got to work rubbing the lotion into Steve’s palms and over his knuckles. “Wouldn’t be a proper manicure without a little massage, would it.”

All thoughts left Steve’s brain, it felt like Eddie’s fingers left a trail of fire where they went, gently but firmly coating his hands with lotion. It was good, Steve was relaxed, and he felt closer to Eddie than he ever had… but he didn’t want to move away.

“There. Now you’re done.” Eddie brushed his thumbs lightly over Steve’s palms, still not letting his hands go.

“Hey Eds?” Eddie quirked his brow in response. “You wanna grab dinner?”

Eddie’s face was unreadable. “Like… out somewhere?”

“Yeah.” Steve paused. He’d never asked out a guy before, would Eddie think he was asking him to dinner just because he was the only gay guy Steve knew? Would he think Steve was trying to make fun of him? “Or, I dunno, we could order a pizza or something.” Nailed it coward.

The other boy smiled. “Sure Harrington, but if you fuck up those nails with pizza grease or something, I’m not redoing them.”

Steve chuckled and smacked Eddie’s arm lightly. Maybe next time.

#steddie fic #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing

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agentmarcuspike · 7 months

Note

ZIGGY can i request number four with joel?

prompt: painting their nails pairing: joel x reader (ft. sarah) word count: ~750

(idk what this header is lmao please forgive)

“What’s that smell?” Joel shouts as he kicks his boots off in the hallway. “You guys playing chemists in there?”

When he enters the kitchen, he stops in his tracks immediately and swallows a yelp, his hand covering his heart as he leans on the door frame. You and Sarah look back at him with faces covered in white sheets. For a second he wonders if he’s started hallucinating ghosts, until you open your mouth to reply.

“We’re having a spa day!” you explain.

Sarah giggles at her dad’s sigh, and he makes his way over to where you’re sitting at the kitchen table, faces covered in facemasks, and Sarah’s fingers covered in polish as you paint them with a tiny brush.

“Smells like a factory,” Joel mumbles, stealing a piece of cucumber from your bowl of “healthy snacks”.

“She’s painting my nails!” Sarah quips, wiggling her finished hand towards her dad.

“Lemme see,” he says, holding her fingers carefully between his, inspecting them.

He nods, face radiating approval through his trademark impressed-dad-upside-down-grin. “'S'a nice color.”

Sarah beams at the compliment. “I picked it!”

“Great job, kid,” he smiles, carefully stroking her hair instead of ruffling it like he used to when she was younger, and cared less about her looks. He can tell that you've played hairdressers on each other, and doesn't want to ruin it.

“Want me to do yours too?” you wink at Joel.

He laughs. “Nah, the guys at work would have a field day.”

You raise your brows in surprise, slightly disappointed with his attitude. “Oh. Didn’t peg you for someone who cared about that…”

“I don��t,” he says defensively. “I just…” He clears his throat as he grabs a chair.

The air is thick with anticipation as you and Sarah look at him.

“Oh what the hell,” he says eventually, and Sarah claps in victory. Joel throws a leg over the extra chair and scoots it closer to the table, giving you his hand. “Just not, like, underwear red or somethin’. ‘S’not really… my color.”

Sarah looks quickly from her dad to you and back before getting up.

“Okay, I don’t wanna know what that means…”

She gives her dad a playful shove. “I’m gonna go take this mask off.”

“Your nails aren’t dry yet!” you yell after her, but she’s already halfway out the door.

“I’ll be careful!” she shouts back, before the door to her bedroom down the hall slams shut.

Joel gives you an embarrassed smile. You grab his hand, guiding it to where you need it on the table, and pick out a few colors for him to choose between. The bottles clink as you put them down on the table in front of him, one by one. You end up with a light blue, a deep brown, and a bright pink.

“Personally,” you say before he can decide, “I think this would look amazing on you.” You point to the pink one. “And the guys at work can call me if they have a problem with a man confident enough in his masculinity not to care.” You shoot him a daring smile.

That gains you a chuckle from him. “Fine…” he says defeatedly. “Try it out on one first.” He lifts his pointer finger to signal where he wants the color.

“How about two,” you challenge, meeting his eyes while holding his pointer and middle finger with one hand as you expertly unscrew the small bottle of polish with the other.

“I don’t think it’ll go with any of my shirts,” he jokes, blushing slightly and paying close attention as the brush spreads the bright color on his nail, instead of looking at you.

You pause and squint up at him until he meets your gaze. “I know something of mine they’d look really good in.”

The slight blush on Joel’s cheekbones spreads to his entire face at that, eyes bulging as he realizes which place you’re referring to. He shoots a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Sarah’s out of earshot before he answers.

“Oh yeah?” he all but whispers. “You’d like the look of that? My fingers with painted nails on you?”

“Mhm,” you mumble through tight lips, biting down on your bottom one. “On me… and…”

Under the table, your foot slides casually up to rest on the seat of his chair between his thighs before you finish your thought.

“In me…”

A growl escapes Joel from deep in his chest before he can stop it. You wiggle your eyebrows at him as you rise from the table.

“Good thing you only wanted two nails done,” you say, grabbing him by the arm, guiding him towards the stairs to your upstairs bedroom. “I don’t think I’d have the patience to wait for all of them to dry.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller drabble #joel miller x you #jhasgdkjsah what even is this sorry #my writing

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disneeznuts · 1 year

Note

Hello 👋 can I Ask for A Tiana x Reader with a darling that likes to Draw/paint??

a/n: ahhhhhhh this is so cute i love

(tiana x reader)

summary: “give yourself more credit”

Masterlist

——

A sneeze passed through you as dust tickled your nostrils.

"You can always step outside if you need to, honey," Tiana called over her shoulder, a broom in her hand as she swept across the wooden floor.

You brought your wrist up to wipe your nose.

"No, it's fine. I'm fine," your stated, voice slightly nazly. Looking back at you Tiana raised a brow but you shot her a rather uneasy smile making her shrug and mumble a quiet 'Suite yourself.'

As she resumed her former movements you did the same. The paper in your hand resting on a chipped clip bored. A pencil was tilted to rest on your chin as you looked at the brief sketch you had already drawn. Bringing the lead tip towards the already traced lines you made a broader stroke.

“I’ll never understand how talented you can be with a simple pencil,” a sudden voice said softly into your ear. Jumping in your seat you instantly tugged the drawing to your chest as a response. Looking up Tiana stood leaned over, hand reaching out to retract your hold. “Honestly, I think you could go off and start your own thing with the things you got,” she stated, taking the piece into her only hold while you twiddled your thumbs.

“You give me too much credit,” you laughed nervously. Tiana brushed her finger gently across the paper.

“Can I keep this when your done?” She asked, peaking at you from behind the wood.

“I mean sure but it’s really not that good,” you mumbled, accepting the item back as she handed it over. She clicked her tongue and picked her broom back up.

“Anything that you make deserves to be framed for all of America to see.” Your cheeks warmed at the compliment. Turning once more, Tiana took your chin between her fingers and pulled you towards her to place a quick peck to the corner of your lips. “You’re the one that needs to give yourself more credit, hun.”

Placing your hand over where her lips touched you you smiled gently to yourself. Looking back down at your artwork you inspected it carefully.

Maybe it wasn’t so bad.

#disney x reader #tiana x reader #princess and the frog x reader #tiana x yn #tiana Disney #Disney #princess and the frog #naveen x reader

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gvfmarge · 1 month

Text

Lighthouse of my Soul - Chapter One

Hi everyone!

This is my very first multipart fic! I hope you enjoy it! I’m feeling a little underwhelmed with how this first chapter turned out. I want it to be more, so hopefully you’ll stick around! I’m hoping to grow my writing a with this fic and maybe get some feelings out while doing it. This is going to be a bit of a slow burner, so be gentle with me, I’m a baby!

(Ghost)Jake x Reader

Warnings: none? Some cussing, some slightly spooky stuff but not too much for now.

I’ve also never had a tag list, so if you’re interested in the next parts just let me know and I’ll tag you! Xoxoxoxo

Were you running away? From what? It didn’t matter. You felt like you had finally reached your destination. You felt the ocean was your new beginning. The Outer Banks had always been your comfort place, growing up vacationing here was always your favorite. It felt like home every time you visited, so it was a no brainer when you had been offered a temporary position at the local newspaper in Hatteras. You felt that you were going to finally make something of yourself. All the hard work you had put into studying and writing was going to pay off.

You had luckily stumbled upon a tiny cottage to rent. The owner explaining it had been built in 1874 and had weathered many storms and tribulations. It had originally been part of the life-saving station before they had built a newer building and eventually became the Coast Guard. The house had endured damage along the years from storms and each time had been repaired. When you stepped foot inside, you could feel the history. The floorboards squeaked with each step inside, taking a deep breath it smelled like sea salt and fresh air. Everything in the house was basically original. The dark hardwood floors showed signs of wear, with little scratches here and there and you could see the discoloration throughout the house where many footsteps had worn down the stain. The walls were fully covered in shiplap and had been sanded down and painted a beautiful light blue color. The kitchen was small, with only 3 overhead cabinets, a small older fridge and a stove. The living room was connected to the kitchen, you could barely see where the owners had taken out the wall to try and have somewhat of an open concept. Slowly inspecting each room, you came to realize just how small it was compared to the pictures you had viewed online. You realized you might not even have enough space for a couch and a table, but you would figure logistics out later. Walking up the steep rickety stairs you came upon a short hallway, at the end was a window stretching from the ceiling to the floor with an amazing view of the beach and ocean outside of the house, from the second floor it seemed you could see forever over the horizon. There are two bedrooms split by the hallway. Looking inside the room to your left, you noticed a small desk sitting underneath a window looking out to the ocean. On it, sat an empty white vase and a typewriter. It piqued your curiosity, the home came unfurnished and you were not made aware of anything left behind for you to use.

Walking over to it, you sat down in the tiny wooden chair and ran your fingers over the vintage keys. As soon as your fingertips met with the cold metal, you felt electricity flow through your hand, up your arm and down your spine. Goosebumps rose over your skin and you quickly pulled your hand away. The shock and stress of moving must be getting to you, you thought. You gazed out the window taking in the ocean waves. You were finally alone, it felt peaceful but somehow, you felt a longing in the house. There was something that you couldn’t quite place your finger on.

You felt a presence with you and quickly turned around to the entrance of the room. You could have sworn you felt eyes on you but there wasn’t a soul there. You slowly turned your body around again to face the window and your mind wondered back to the memories you had that led you here. Suddenly, a faint smell of tobacco burning filled the room. The sweet but heavy aroma seemed to swirl around your body. It was intoxicating but slightly overwhelming. You felt frozen for just a moment, not quite understanding what was happening. With another deep breath you slowly stood up and scanned the room for any sign of someone else. As quickly as the tobacco smell came, it was gone. You shrugged the smell off to the history of the cottage and made your way back downstairs to begin unpacking and making yourself finally feel at home.

The sun had slowly crept through your first floor windows and shown brightly against the kitchen cabinets. You looked at the clock you had just hung on the wall to see that it was 6pm. You had worked for hours trying to unpack all of the boxes the moving company had just piled into your living area. Thankfully, the moving company had taken your mattress upstairs for you so you didn’t have to figure out how to lug it up the tight cornered stairs by yourself. Deciding it was best to take the empty bedroom, you asked them to place it under the window that overlooked the ocean. The bedrooms were narrow, with only about two feet of space between both sides of the mattress and the walls. At the other end of the room was a built in closet that was actually a nice size considering how small the whole house was. The door opened up beside the closet, so there was really no other option for your bed. You were not a fan for your bed to be facing the door or the closet, but it would have to work.

Boxes on top of boxes had somehow dwindled down to a select few that you didn’t know what to do with. As you carefully climbed the steep stairs with box in tow, you felt just how tired your legs really were. You had climbed these stairs at least a thousand times today just trying to get everything in your desired spot. You had been avoiding the typewriter room. It just felt odd to you and you really had no use for it now, so deciding to use it as storage for now, you slowly pushed the heavy wooden door open with the cardboard box and peaked inside. No one, just the lonely typewriter. There was such a sadness in the room and you didn’t know how. There was no explanation but you understood with old houses came a lengthy wrap sheet of history inside the walls. You finished bringing the random boxes into the room to go through later. Slowly exiting the room, you once again felt goosebumps raise across your skin. You quickly slammed the bedroom door shut and almost ran down the stairs.

“You’re just imagining things, it’s an old house. You’ve watched too many scary movies.” Scoffing to yourself. You turned to the front door which was from top to bottom glass and stared out to the ocean. You felt such a connection. There was just something special about the ocean. It always made you feel whole, even as a child when you didn’t know you were missing something, you knew it was to be in awe of.

You made a mental note to buy curtains to place over the front and back doors to keep your privacy. The two doors mirrored each other in the house, you could walk a straight line from the front door to the back door and see right through both doors of glass.

That night you sat in the floor of your living room, using an empty cardboard box as your coffee table to eat the pizza you had ordered in off of. Thankfully you did have a TV, so there would be a little bit of entertainment to keep you occupied before you started your new position on Monday.

After watching what seemed like hours of trash TV, you decided to tuck yourself in for the first night in your new home. Brushing your teeth and doing your skincare in the only bathroom downstairs, you stared at yourself in the mirror. “Am I actually doing this? Is this actually real?” Your mind was spinning miles a minute and you hoped you would be able to turn it off enough to get a little rest. The first night in new homes never seems to go smoothly. You either can’t sleep because it’s too quiet or the ceiling fan is too loud, or the room is too hot or too cold. You were nervous for what you would find when you made your way upstairs in the darkness. You huffed when you realized the owners hadn’t thought of putting a light in the stairway when they remodeled the house, so you had to use your senses to make sure you didn’t fall tumbling down to the bottom.

At the top of the stairs, you sped walked to get inside your bedroom and practically slammed your bedroom door shut. “What are you so afraid of.” You laughed at yourself. This would be a long summer if you couldn’t get it together. Crawling into bed, really just your mattress on the floor, you turned the switch of the lamp off and faced the window that was on the left side of the bed. You could only see the stars and the moon through the window panes, you stared for what seemed like minutes until your entire bedroom was suddenly lit up with a bright white light. You shot up in bed and stared. “What the hell” is all you could say. Until a few seconds later, your bedroom was lit up like the Fourth of July again. “There’s no fucking way, are you serious.” You hadn’t realized on the drive here or even unpacking your things, that Cape Hatteras Lighthouse was literally in your back yard. The lighthouse was close enough to shine its light through your bedroom window and make you feel like you just got busted for drugs by the police. The lighthouse’s light rotation takes about 7 seconds, which is more than aggravating when you’re trying to sleep. You flipped your body over like you were trying to slam through the floor and groaned. “Of course, I would get stuck with a creepy old house and the lighthouse in my backyard.” You grumbled. After calming down, sleep finally found you and you more than gladly welcomed the darkness.

How long had you been asleep? You picked up your phone and the time read 3am. You huffed out another long sigh. Your bladder felt like it was going to explode. There was no falling asleep like this or you would most definitely wet the bed. You laid there for a few moments until you felt like you could brave the dark house in the middle of the night. Of course the only bathroom was downstairs. Why wouldn’t it be?

You turned your bedside lamp on and rolled out onto your feet. Creeping down the dark stairs with only your phones flashlight, you didn’t sense anything. Everything felt calm to your surprise. There was no uneasiness and you didn’t feel like the devil himself would pop out around the corner. You finished your business quickly and started the ascent back up to your room. On the fourth or fifth step up, a rhythmic sound stopped you in your tracks. You stood silent and as still as a statue, your heart pounding so hard you could feel it in your toes. Your ears became hot as you realized what the sound was. The vintage typewriter. You were frozen. Even if you wanted to turn around and bust your way out the front door and squeal like a baby all the way back home, your body wouldn’t let you. Your feet felt like they had been cemented to the step.

Suddenly the bell of the typewriter rang out in the upstairs bedroom and the keys were being pressed in a quick but precise fashion. The person using the typewriter knew what they were doing and they seemed to be in a hurry to write whatever they were writing. You heard the paper being ripped out of the roller. Silence. No foot steps, no more typing, nothing but the ocean waves outside. You took a deep breath and steadied yourself on the wall of the staircase. Did you imagine all of it? Are you still just half asleep and dreamed it? Are you actually going insane? Everything felt like it was moving in slow motion and turning black, the world felt like it was swirling around your head and you squeezed your eyes tightly shut to try and stop the uneasy feeling.

When you opened them, you were staring at your wooden bedroom ceiling. You followed the grooves of the shiplap until your eyes met the window you had been looking out to see the lighthouse light. The sun was warming your face and the brightness almost seemed too bright. You scrambled around your comforter to find your phone, which showed 8:45am.

“There’s no possible way that’s right.” You quickly googled the time and realized it was correct. You had somehow blacked out on the stairs and made it into bed? How? Your mind was racing with confusion and then you remembered, the typewriter.

You quickly opened up the text thread with your landlady and hit the call button. Hearing the ringing tone you couldn’t even conjure up what you were about to say. Were you just giving up? Was this going to break you?

“Hello?” The sweet lady answered in a joyful tone. “Hi Mrs. Hartley, did you accidentally leave a typewriter and desk in one of the bedrooms upstairs?”

There was silence on the other end of the line and you were becoming more and more anxious the longer she took to respond. “No honey, I didn’t leave anything in the house. It has been empty for over a year now.” She quietly answered in her sweet but concerned tone. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes. No worries at all. I had a great first night here. Thank you so much again!” You hit the red button before she could even think of a reply.

You looked up to your bedroom door that was wide open and felt the goosebumps rise once again down your spine. What the actual fuck is happening here?

#jake kiszka x reader #greta van fleet #gvf #gvf smut #jake kiszka fanfic #Jake kiszka #Gvfmarge mine

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offbrandkyoya · 5 months

Text

78 the art of love

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In such a short amount of time, you’re able to finish your painting. You lost a lot of sleep but seeing how it turned out, you figure it was worth it.

You yawn as you walk to the art building. Your painting was covered with a cloth and you held it tight. It was pretty big but not so big that you could fall to your doom. You stand in front of the door the artists were using and knock before letting yourself in. Once you entered, everyone’s eyes are on you. Todays the last day so the instructor was observing the people’s artwork.

“Ln?” “I’m sorry for the outburst I caused a while back.” You bowed. “I know you told me to step down but I just couldn’t. I promised someone I’d show them this piece as they’re very dear to me.” You look back up, “Please let me show this.” The woman stares at you with a blank expression. She doesn’t say a word. You stand up straight, “I-I know that it’s unbelievable but it really is finished! A-And I do think it’s great!” You look behind her and see Albedo giving you a thumbs up.

“Hm.” She reaches her hand out and you immediately give her your canvas. You fiddle with your fingers as she sets the canvas on an empty easel. She takes off the cloth and everyone huddled around your painting. You hear whispers but none were from the head of it all.

“You did this?” “Yes ma’am.” “In this short period of time?” “Yes.” The lady continues to stare at it still with no expression. After a few minutes, she covers it with the cloth again. She faces you with a small smile. “You’ve really outdone yourself, Ln. It’s beautiful.” You smile wide, feeling a bit emotional. “Despite the obstacle in your way, you didn’t give up. You’re a true artist, Ln. I can tell that this painting is made with care. I hope that the person you dedicated this to is happy to know what you’ve accomplished.” Your smile wobbles and you wipe a few tears that slipped out. “Thank you so much!”

After inspecting the rest of the paintings, the instructor explains the details. “Everyone in the city is welcome to come and see these paintings. In the end, I’ll make the decision on who wins. I’m hoping everyone will be here tonight.” You blink, “Tonight? I thought it was tomorrow.” She shakes her head. “No, tonight. Didn’t you see the date?” You stand there in shock. Albedo makes his way to you and taps your shoulder. He whispers, “But yn, we have the concert to go to!” You tap your chin.

“Are you no available, Ln?” You jump, “N-No! Um,” You nod, “I’ll be here don’t worry!” She smiles. “That’s good to hear.” You sigh and Albedo looks at you a bit unsure. “Don’t worry.” You smile. “I’ll make sure we don’t miss it.”

The two of you exit the building once the meeting was over and head to the train station. The concert was a bit far but it’s not going to be so bad. Thoma was already there and you wave to get his attention. It works and he waved back. The three of you reunite and wait for the train. Despite the concert not starting till later, it’s best if you go earlier to avoid crowds. “Yn, did you get enough sleep?” Thoma asks and you shake your head. “No, but, I won’t miss this!” He sighs, “Okay.”

The train arrives and the three of you hop on. “Do you think we can fit?” You ask. “Isn’t it two per seat?” Albedo brings up two fingers. Thoma nods. You look at them. “Albedo, you’re pretty small we can fit.” “Huh?!” You shove him towards the window seat and then sit down so you can be in the middle. You pat his chest. “Don’t worry, Thoma will break our fall.”

After everyone is seated, the train starts. You looked out the window and slowly, you feel your eyes close. After fighting to make them stay open, you lose as your eyes close and your head leans onto Albedos shoulder. He looks at you, startled before noticing you’ve fallen asleep. Albedo carefully taps Thomas arm and the blonde turns around only to be met with your sleeping figure. Albedo puts his finger in front of his lips and Thoma nods and repeats the action.

The boys don’t wake you until your destination.

- nobara nation how are we feeling…

- bro my leg is ASLEEP 😭😭😭😭

- my morning class dementia course final is on Wednesday GREAT!!:$;;& (I’m going to kms)

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writeawaythepain · 23 days

Text

Oblivious

Tango Tek x (gn!reader)

Anybody else really miss watching Tango’s videos when he left?

Word count: 2.4 k

Prompts:

“I would be nervous too in your shoes. But you’d be telling me that I got this, so I’m telling you: You got this.”

Doing each other's hair.

Summary:

You convince Tango to finally take a break from his new big redstone project by inviting him over for a sleepover. You start to wonder if it was even a good idea, as your normal teasing back-and-forth banter starts to hit a little too close to home when you realize your crush for the redstoner was just getting worse…

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“I would be nervous too, in your shoes,” I try to reassure him with a smile. “ But you’d be telling me that I got this, so I’m telling you: You got this.” You look directly into his fiery red eyes.

“….Aaaa- you’re just making me more stressed!!” Tango yells out dipping the nail polish brush back into the bottle. “Why am I even so stressed?!”

“Cause I made your nails fabulous, and if you mess mine up I’ll never forgive you.” You answer simply, trying and failing to suppress a smile.

“You did do my nails fabulously, you did…but I think I’m actually going to go for a more abstract look-'' He flashes you a mischievous smile as he slowly lowers the brush closer to your finger, and nowhere near where your actual nail was. You instantly pull away, gasping in mock offense.

“Don’t you dare-“ You start.

“Wha -at, do you not trust me?!” He says snickering. You eye him suspiciously.

”Not when you say things like that!”

Your plan for making sure Tango took a break from his new big project was going well so far. Sure you felt a little childish when bringing up the idea of a sleepover, but Tango’s enthusiasm dashed most of your concerns instantly…Most, that is, except for your growing concern that you may love your friend in more ways than just platonic….

You usually always push those feelings to the back burner, not wanting to ruin the thing you two already had going, but seeing the way he stuck out his tongue in concentration while still managing to get polish all over your finger wasn’t helping. ”How are you so bad at this?“ You tease, smiling.

”I- you shush! I’m trying, ok! You keep squirming-“ He says trying to readjust his positioning by grabbing and tilting your hand slightly.

”I’m not squirming! I’m laughing. At you.” You say still giggling. He huffs, and eventually decides that his technique wasn’t working, and decides to try a new one. He gets up from his cross-legged position on the floor, pulling his knees up and toward himself to form a resting place for your wrist. His grip on your hand tightens a little as he yanks you closer.

”Just shut up and come here-” The rest of your body follows your hand, and you scooch closer to him, shutting up. Tango doesn’t even seem to notice your close proximity, too focused on trying to paint your nails neatly. After a few more beats of flustered (on your part) silence, he looks up beaming. “There, first hand done!”

You blink, your brain still catching up, before you inspect his work. The first finger he did was quite bad- unevenly painted and there was some color accidentally splotched onto your skin. But each nail got progressively better, and all in all… “Well- I’ve had worse. And I like the color!” He’d picked a bright red for you, a shade that reminded you of his bright eyes. You picked your favorite color for his nails, and you now wonder if he did the same.

”Ok- ok! See- I’m learning!” He says before holding out his hand again, “other one?”

You give him your other hand, and are forced to look at his adorably concentrated face again as he paints your other nails. You start talking to distract yourself. “So I assume this is your first time ever doing this?”

”Zed’s painted my nails before- but it was with some kinda poison for one of his science-y experiment-o thingies.” If he had been talking about anyone else you might’ve questioned it, but it was Zedaph, so you weren’t really even surprised. “I’ve never painted someone else’s before- no.” He responds not looking up, still entirely focused.

”Really, I couldn’t tell?” You say sarcasm dripping from your voice as you smile. He looks up at you for a second just to roll his eyes.

“I thought I told you to shush-“ He says, almost scolding if it wasn’t for the smile on his face. He rolls his shoulders, and it seems like being hunched over in concentration was starting to make him sore, so he instead leans back a little, pulling you even closer, and holds your forearm between his knees. Ok- this was getting ridiculous, there was no way your face wasn’t getting a bit red now.

“Do you want me to just detach my hand and give it to you?” You laugh trying to keep your composure.

”No- “ He laughs, seemingly oblivious to your suffering. “-I like you just as you are, all in one piece thanks.” You chuckle, looking anywhere but directly at him until he finally finishes, and releases your hand. ”Done! Now don’t you look absolutely fanta-bulous! The color really suits you-“ He cheers, sending you a wink that makes you wonder if he was doing this on purpose.

The second hand looks even better than the first, and if you were being honest, it really warmed your heart that he tried so hard. “It does look great, the red makes me feel like a model.” You pose in a silly vogue showing off your nails as if in a commercial, and it succeeds in making Tango laugh. He tries a pose of his own, showing off his nails in front of his face and pursing his lips. He looks at you, and winks. You burst out laughing, and he joins in as you both have goofy smiles on your face. When your laughing finally calms down, Tango looks up at you.

”So, what else do you usually do at sleepovers?” He asks, tilting his head slightly.

”Well…me and my friends would sometimes play truth or dare, or do each other's hair-“ Tango’s eyes light up.

“Why not both! Though, I don’t think there’s much you can do with this mop on my head-“ He responds pointing at his spikey blonde hair, “I kinda just have to let it do what it wants.”

You squint at it, sizing up his hairdo like it was a challenge. “I think I can figure something out…”

”Go ahead! Be my guest.” He says sitting up and taking off the goggles he had on.

You get up to grab some supplies from the bathroom, before returning and kneeling down behind him, trying to find a longer chunk of hair that you can work with. Satisfied with finding a section near his pointy ears, you start braiding. “Right, you go first. Truth or dare?”

”Well, I can’t really move- so truth? I did not think this through, huh?” He chuckles, and you pull on his hair slightly to keep him still.

”Stop moving!” You say, laughing as well. You think for a second, trying to come up with a good question. “Ok…When you first met me, what was your first impression of me?”

Tango smiles, and flushes slightly as he thinks back on the moment, remembering it fondly. You're too focused to notice. “Well- If I’m being a hundred percent honest. I just thought you looked really cool! But in kinda a like- a slightly intimidating way, you know?” You spare him an odd look.

”Really?” You ask, finishing up the first little braid before gently tilting his head the other way to do the same thing on the other side.

”Yea! Then, I got to know you and realized you're just a big ole softy!” He says chuckling. You roll your eyes and shake your head, but you don’t stop the small smile that spreads across your face.

”Yea, yea, whatever.” You chuckle, focusing back on his hair.

”Your turn now, truth or dare?” Tango asks.

“Truth, I’m still trying to finish this braid-“ He takes a moment to respond, giving you just enough time to finish the second braid, so you tie it to the end of the first one, forming a sort of halo around the back of his head.

”What’s a secret you’ve never told anyone?” He asks. One instantly pops to mind, but you shake your head, dismissing it instantly.

”Actually, nevermind, I'm finished. I switch to my choice to dare.” Tango turns around to face you, almost pouting.

”Wha- You can’t do that!”

”Yes I can, and look!” You pull out a hand mirror you brought and show him what you’ve done to his hair, his frown instantly turns into an excited smile.

”Woah- it’s so cute!” He says, turning his head a little to inspect the braids, grinning.

”You are! And your hair looks nice too.” You say shooting him wink, he laughs but you swear you saw his face get a little pink. He looks off to the side like he’s thinking, and then turns back to you with a toothy smirk.

”Alright, I thought of a dare. Give me your absolutely worst pick up line. Just- the most cheesy, corny, awful pick up line ever.” Your eyebrow raises a little at his request, and you take a moment to think.

”Worst pick up line huh…? That’s hard cause we both know how amazing I am at flirting.” You say sarcastically, just buying yourself some time to think of something clever.

Tango laughs, “Yep, uh huh. Totally. You're like, the flirting master.” He teases back.

Finally a really stupid one comes to mind, “Tango, are you a campfire? Because you’re hot and I totally want s’more-“ You say, barely able to get it out without laughing.

Tango stares at you blankly for a moment, before his face reddens and he bursts out laughing. “That- that’s actually terrible.”

“Hey you asked! I’m starting to think you just like the idea of me flirting with you.” You joke, turning your back to him so he could do your hair. Instead, he decides to lean forward and whisper directly into your ear.

“Maybe I do~” He pulls back and starts laughing, but you're frozen. Your face feels flushed and you try to calm your racing heart. You keep reminding yourself that it was all just a joke, that you needed to calm down or you’d risk making it weird. “Aw, too much?” He asks.

“I- just-” You stutter.

“Well too bad, it’s my payback for you not letting me work on my redstone stuff.” He says gently running his hands through your hair and…you were just now realizing how bad of an idea this all was. You were supposed to be getting over your feelings for the hot tempered blaze, but instead you’ve found yourself falling for him even more.

“Yea well, that’s what I get for being a good friend I guess.” You chuckle, but it comes out a bit strained.

“Friends? Is that all we are?” Tango asks slightly…disappointed?

“Alright Tango enough with the jokes, you keep doing that I might actually fall for you.” You try to keep up your chipper and teasing tone, but your voice wavered towards the end.

Tango stops playing with your hair, and moves in front of you again. He seems nervous, and looks down at his hands a lot. You don’t dare hope, you don’t let yourself think anything, too scared to lose the friendship that you two had, no matter how much you cared for him.

“Maybe…uhh…maybe I might’ve actually been the one, that has done the falling…for…you.” He ends it with a dry chuckle, wringing his hands and struggling to keep eye contact. When you don’t respond right away, he finally looks at you. You search his eyes, searching for any sign that this was all some sort of weird bit.

“Are- are you being for real…or…” You finally ask, still not sure.

“Uh…yea? I mean…I thought I was making it obvious and all but I guess...” For some reason you feel tears well up in your eyes. “...Ah! Oh my gosh, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have-” You interrupt him, quickly wiping the tears from your eyes.

“No! No it’s fine I’m just- I’m glad! I promise!” You reassure him, a huge smile spreading across your lips. His eyes are still wide with concern, and slight confusion.

“Wait so- I’m confused. Do you also…?” You bob your head up and down, laughing a bit as you try to regain your composure after the roller coaster of emotions that had been the past few minutes.

“Yes, Tango. Obviously, I’ve fallen for you too.” You finally respond, he grins and grabs both your hands in his.

“Well, obviously- neither of us are really good at reading the obvious-” He snickers, gently stroking your hand with his thumb.

You giggle, “Wow, and now someone has spilled about their crush, we’ve checked, like, all the sleepover boxes but-”

“-but sleeping?” Tango asks, quirking an eyebrow.

“No? No one sleeps at sleepovers, come on dude-” You respond and he laughs, “the only thing we haven’t done is watch a movie!”

“Hey well I’m not complaining. As long as I get to do your hair first, since it was um- interrupted.” He smiles, blushing slightly.

“Why not both!” You say mirroring his tone from earlier.

~ ~ ~

This time when he runs his fingers through your hair, you allow yourself to melt into his touch. You're seated on the ground, while Tango sits on the couch. You're situated between both his legs, as he tries, undos, and retries to braid your hair. You realize you don’t really mind if he ever gets it right, you're just glad to finally relax with the knowledge that he loved being near you just as much as you loved being near him.

”Ok…I’m done…I think?” You hear Tango’s voice from behind you. You haven’t really been paying attention to the movie much, instead just enjoying the redstoner's company, so you lean over and grab the hand mirror.

”Aww, I love it.” You giggle a little, “But…maybe don’t quit your day job, hot stuff.” You tilt your head up to see his reaction, and he just rolls his eyes and snickers before leaning down and closer to your face.

”Is it good enough to get a little somethin’ at least? For trying?” He smirks, leaning just a little closer. Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, but you smile and sit up, turning slightly, before gently grabbing his collar, and meeting him in the middle. And you swear, when his lips hit yours, you feel fireworks.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

#Tango x reader #Tango tek x reader #c!Tango x reader #Tango x gn!reader #x gn! reader #x gender neutral reader #Tango x gender neutral reader #hermitcraft x reader #life series x reader #traffic smp x reader #hermitcraft fanfic #traffic series fanfic #life series fanfic #mcyt x reader #x reader #slimewrites

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tsukimino · 7 months

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Kenzan Substory: Izumo no Okuni

We’re back, and since Ishin now has an official English release, it’s time to move on to other things! Without further ado, below the cut is a complete English translation of Kenzan’s Izumo no Okuni substory – better known as the substory in which Kiryu Kazumanosuke inadvertently invents kabuki.

[Kiryu walks toward the temple at the east end of Rakugai; right in front of the doors, he runs into a trio of rough-looking swordsmen. Their leader confronts Kiryu.]

Swordsman: Huh?! Is that Miyamoto Musashi? We’ve finally found him!

[The leader reaches for his blade.]

Swordsman: That’s as far as you go! Die!

[A fight ensues. Naturally, Kiryu trounces his opponents, but when the fight ends, he’s crouched over and breathing heavily.]

Kiryu: (Was that all of them…?)

Swordsman: He’s hurt! Finish him off now!

Kiryu: (Shit…! I’ll just hide somewhere until this blows over…)

[The screen fades to black. When we return, Kiryu has found a hiding spot of some sort in an enclosed, dimly-lit space.]

Kiryu: Hah…! Hah…!

[The camera pans over to reveal a woman standing nearby.]

Okuni: Wh- what the!? What happened to you?

Kiryu: It’s nothing…

Okuni: That’s not nothing at all! Those injuries – they need attention!

Kiryu: Sorry. I’m being chased. Would you mind if I stayed here for a bit?

Okuni: Chased, huh?

[We hear muffled shouts on the other side of the wall.]

Swordsman: Where is he!? Dammit! Find him!

[Kiryu falls dramatically to the floor at Okuni’s feet.]

Kiryu: Ugh…

[The screen fades to black.]

Okuni: Hey, now! Hang in there!

[When we fade back in, Kiryu’s lying on the floor in a set of unfamiliar clothes. Okuni is standing around with a trio of men, having a conversation of some sort.]

Kiryu: Where am I…?

Okuni: Well, maybe now’s the time…

Lead Actor: What are you saying, Okuni-san?

Clown: You said we were gonna put on a play like no one’s ever seen! You were so excited!

Okuni: Quiet! This is all happening because your acting won’t cut it!

Heartthrob Actor: H-hey! We’re doing our best!

Lead Actor: That’s right! We’ve come up with all sorts of things, and you’ve hemmed and hawed about all of them!

Okuni: But in the end, you haven’t been able to pull any of them off, have you? When you’re all talk, you can say anything you like!

Lead Actor: …

Okuni: If you’ve got time to complain, you’ve got time to rehearse!

Lead Actor: Y-yes…

Okuni: Ahh, good grief…

[After the actors leave, Okuni looks down at her guest.]

Okuni: Oh, you’re awake?

Kiryu: What’s this outfit…?

Okuni: We couldn’t take care of your wounds the way you were, so we took the liberty of changing you out of your clothes. And besides, if you walked out of here in those bloody rags, they’d find you right away.

Kiryu: I see… Thanks.

Okuni: But I can’t guarantee that they won’t find you if we stay here, so…

Okuni: I’ve got it!

[A full cutscene begins: Okuni grabs a brush and attempts to start painting Kiryu’s face.]

Kiryu: Hey!

Okuni: Sit still!

[Kiryu turns his head away again.]

Kiryu: Hey, quit it!

[Okuni grabs him by the chin and forces him to look at her and stay still. Kiryu finally stops acting like a petulant child and sits (mostly) still while she paints. When she’s finished, she stands up and gazes down at her work.]

Okuni: How’s this?

Okuni: Ah, it came out pretty good! Now nobody will even know it’s you.

[There’s a shout from off-screen.]

???: He’s here!

[The swordsmen from before rush in, blades drawn. One of them bends down to inspect Kiryu.]

Swordsman: What the hell? What’s with that getup?

Okuni: Darn, they saw through it after all.

[Kiryu grabs an umbrella and stands up. Just to be extra dramatic, he begins to speak without turning to face his would-be assailants.]

Kiryu: You guys sure are persistent… But I can’t let loose in here. Let’s take this outside.

[Kiryu pushes his way through a set of curtains; the men follow him while Okuni reaches out in a vain attempt to stop him.]

Okuni: Hey! That’s the way to…

[Of course, Kiryu stomps out directly into the middle of a stage, where we finally catch a glimpse of him in full kabuki face-paint, wielding his umbrella as a weapon. Four enemy swordsmen surround him with their blades drawn and ready.]

Kiryu: You’re gonna break more than just a leg!

[A battle begins, in which Kiryu gives the men a thrashing with his paper umbrella.]

[Afterwards, as he stands in the middle of the pile of bodies, Okuni starts clapping for him offstage.]

Kiryu: Sorry about that – I’ve caused you a whole lot of trouble.

Okuni: Trouble?! Far from it! Look at that!

[Okuni gestures toward the crowd. The place is packed, and everyone’s cheering enthusiastically for his performance.]

Okuni: Thanks to you, the crowd’s going wild!

[We fade to black again, and when we return, Kiryu’s in the backstage area once more.]

Okuni: I never imagined I’d see so many happy playgoers. It was one last fond memory – thank you so much!

Kiryu: Last?

Okuni: Yeah, it’s time for this troupe to call it quits. Attendance has been way down, lately.

Kiryu: You’re bound to have times like that if you’re in this business long enough. Isn’t it a little soon to be giving up?

Okuni: We’ve tried a bunch of different acts, but in the end, the only thing a little troupe like ours can do is rehash old material, and young actors these days think that’s tedious. They get bored. We’re always squabbling, and I’m getting sick of it.

Kiryu: …

Okuni: If we only had a performer like you…

Okuni: Oh, don’t worry, I’m just kidding.

Kiryu: You really want to keep this theatre going, don’t you?

Okuni: Huh? Well, it’d be nice if I could, but…

Kiryu: Well then, mulling it over on your own’s no good, right?

Okuni: But those guys still don’t know the first thing about acting…

Kiryu: Now, I’m just an amateur, but wouldn’t you say it makes for good theatre when everyone’s in step?

Okuni: In… step?

Kiryu: Have you ever taken them seriously? From your point of view, they’ve got a long way to go, yet, but those players must have their dreams riding on you. That’s why they’re here now.

Okuni: …

Kiryu: You can quit anytime – but before you throw in the towel, try putting more trust in your players and talking to one another.

[We fade to black yet again. When we return, Kiryu’s back in his usual running-around-town outfit.]

Kiryu: (That troupe’s gonna be just fine – after this, they’ll carve out a path for themselves. I should hurry up and get out of their dressing room.)

[The screen fades to black once more. The three actors from before are standing together, mid-conversation.]

Lead Actor: But what a surprise! That fight scene was amazing!

Clown: Right, right! And that makeup was fantastic! A real transformation! But kind of strange, too.

Heartthrob Actor: Totally! I’ve never seen such a strange-looking actor before!

Lead Actor: A strange-looking actor…? Or maybe a kabukimono…*

Heartthrob Actor: Hey, why don’t we try making a play out of that fight we saw just now? We’ll call it “kabuki”!

Clown: Fantastic! Just a sec – let me go tell Okuni!

Lead Actor: Huh? But she’s already said that the theatre…

Clown: Let’s give it a shot! That performance was amazing – she’ll definitely get it!

[We return to Kiryu, who’s standing outside the temple again. A notice pops up saying that Kiryu received 10,000 EXP. Before Kiryu can bumble off to intervene in anyone else’s problems, a guy waves to him from the gates.]

Actor: Hey, you! Hold on a second!

Kiryu: You’re one of the actors... What do you want with me?

Actor: I wanted to say a quick thank-you.

Kiryu: Thank me? What for?

Actor: For getting Okuni’s spirits up again! Your acting inspired her – and us too, of course!

Kiryu: Oh yeah? That’s great.

Actor: Yeah! Your work was cutting-edge! Amazing! We’d never seen anyone act like that before!

Kiryu: Uhh, that wasn’t really acting…

Actor: I was completely enthralled by your performance! I’d love to know your name.

Kiryu: ……Kiryu.

Actor: Kiryu-san, eh? We’re gonna come up with a new play based on your performance! And we’ll make a fresh start with Okuni.

Kiryu: Sure. Good luck.

Actor: Thanks! For now, our troupe’s going to keep playing in this town. …Oh, hey, Kiryu-san! Could you stop by the stage once in a while?

Kiryu: Huh?

Actor: You’ll be a real crowd-pleaser if you come out, and we’ll help with the production. And I think it’ll make Okuni really happy!

Kiryu: Uh, but I…

Actor: Yeah, it’s perfect! Just show up whenever you like – it’ll be great!

Kiryu: Wait, but…

Actor: How does five percent of the proceeds sound for your performance fee? I’ll talk it over with Okuni!

Kiryu: Uh, but I’m…

Actor: Huh!? Five’s not enough? Ohh, I’m in a real bind, here… I can’t go any higher than that… Would you settle for five percent – please?

[Kiryu is then given a choice.]

> My art doesn’t come that cheap!

> I don’t need your money.

[Kiryu can pick the first option, but when he does, the actor won’t accept it.]

Actor: Uhh… Please don’t say things like that.

[The game then dumps you back on the choice screen, where Kiryu has to pick the more magnanimous option to proceed.]

Kiryu: Alright, alright, I get it. I’ll help you, but I don’t need your money.

Actor: Huh!? But that’s no good…

Kiryu: I’ll help you out for free instead – it’ll be a parting gift as you all set out on the next stage of your journey.

Actor: Really!? Thank you so much! Everyone’s gonna be thrilled! Well, whenever you feel like it, let me know! I’ll always be waiting right here. Oh – but when I say “always,” I mean only at night. We don’t perform during the day.

Kiryu: Okay, got it.

[End of substory.]

—

Translation Notes:

*Reader, I’m going to be honest with you: this section of dialogue between the actors is basically untranslatable in a way that retains all the significance of the original, because it involves a lot of wordplay that doesn’t really have an equivalent in English. The three players talk about Kiryu’s performance admiringly, and they note that his appearance and behaviour were like nothing they’ve ever seen before. So far so good, right? But the specific term they use for his performance is kabuku (かぶく): a verb that means “to slant” but that was also used to describe the act of dressing and comporting oneself oddly. It’s this term that leads them to conclude that Kiryu himself looked and acted like a kabukimono (傾奇者): a term derived from the verb kabuku that refers to gangs of rowdy, flamboyantly-dressed swordsmen – mostly ronin – who ran around making trouble in the early seventeenth century. It’s from this last term that one of the actors comes up a name for the new style of play they want to put on; they’re all so impressed by Kiryu’s wild appearance and his rowdy sword-fighting performance that they decide to replicate it in their own work and call it kabuki. (This theatrical term seems, in fact, to have been derived from kabukimono, so Kenzan’s writers weren’t just pulling things out of their asses.)

This wordplay is difficult to replicate in English because while we have kabuki as a loanword, we didn’t nab any of the other terms in this chain of associations – sure, I could’ve said that Kiryu looked “kooky” or something because that sounds a bit like “kabuki,” but that term doesn’t carry the historical significance that kabukimono does.

—

Izumo no Okuni is a real historical figure who’s said to have invented the theatrical art of kabuki, which exploded in popularity in the early seventeenth century. As this substory suggests (and as you probably already know), kabuki is known for its flashy costumes and especially for the white makeup and bold lines with which performers’ faces are painted. Initially, the performances were heavily dance-based and were put on by women; Okuni’s own company consisted (in contrast with what we see in Kenzan) entirely of ladies. By 1629, however, lady actors were banned from the kabuki stage out of concern for the potential morally deleterious effects of female kabuki troupes’ often ribald performances. Of course, this didn’t put an end to the art – it just meant that men (often younger men) were left to play women’s parts instead, and while the ban was later lifted, kabuki performances generally remain all-male affairs to this day.

#rgg translations #kenzan #substories

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rougepancake · 10 months

Text

notre dame

Ft. Rohan Kishibe & Jotaro Kujo x Eldest Daughter!F!Reader

Warnings: None. Just some hcs for how they’d act with a stubborn gal like the eldest daughter. (Please it’s mostly fluff I couldn’t help myself). Not proofread.

ROHAN KISHIBE

Upon first meeting, he finds you incredibly unbearable. He hates that attitude of “everyone just depends on me, I can’t let them down” or “if I don’t step up then no one else will, and I can’t risk that”

What didn’t help was that you were a well known painter, which meant that he would constantly be seeing you at exhibits whenever they opened.

Mainly because your pieces were being put on display. (That only infuriated him more)

Upon further inspection, he realized that your pieces were of abstract things. And there was always a girl with her back facing the audience who was enjoying said things

He hated that he liked your style

In fact, he convinced himself that he totally hated you so that when Koichi brought you by the next time, he had a reason to be a dick

EXCEPT KOICHI DIDN’T BRING YOU BY

YOU BROUGHT YOURSELF

And to say he was stunned would be an understatement

He was genuinely surprised that you had just appeared because you were… worried??

“What do you want?” He leaned in the doorway, sneering down at you. “I’m a busy man so spit it out.” He was nagging you but he wasn’t really that annoyed. You were in front of him, your arms full of your art supplies and your tone serious.

“Koichi told me a while back that you tend you shut yourself up when you’re writing.” You began, and he had such a hard time understanding your tone. “So I figured I would give you some company. It wouldn’t hurt, right?”

And for whatever reason, he couldn’t tell you no. Which he also hated.

Dude was stunned that you went out of your way tbh. Was even more stunned when you began to paint in silence

He got distracted tho and accidentally ended up scratching himself with the pen pretty badly

You asked him if he was okay and immediately began cleaning up his ‘wound’ even though he didn’t ask you to

“Hey! Get your hands off of me!” He pulled his hand away from your grasp, shooting you a sharp glare.

“It’ll get infected if you don’t clean it.” You said stubbornly, returning his glare and grabbing his wrist harshly. “And I know you don’t want that to happen.”

That’s when it clicked for him

You spend all your time taking care of others. It was best demonstrated in the way that you often defended Josuke or Okuyasu in battle- even though you didn’t have a stand

Even if you were injured, you wouldn’t let Josuke help you. And your stubbornness bothered him

Rohan seemed to realize that you put yourself last for everything. Even when you guys have gone out and there’s something you want, you put it off for another day

Or if someone offers to pay for you, you refuse and pay for yourself

You’re just always last on your list of priorities

And in that moment he seems to have some sort of epiphany

“Why do you paint?” He looks down and into your eyes, ignoring the stinging in his hand as you tend to it.

“I don’t know.” You shrug it off, and he swore he heard your voice shake.

“Fine. Be that way.” He huffed and crossed his legs. “What do you paint?”

You froze. “Excuse me?”

“What do you paint?”

You sighed softly and looked up at him, your eyes shining in slight awe. “No one’s ever asked me that before.” You paused. “I paint my favorite things. Why do you ask?”

“Ah.” He said simply, looking away from you. “I’ll let you have this one.” He sighed. “You’re not as annoying as I thought you to be.”

After this he pampers you and gets called out by Josuke

But pampers in the sense of like “hey I saw these paints and thought they would look good with your style”

IMMEDIATELY BACKTRACKS AFTERWARDS

Watches you paint in silence a lot. He has come to the conclusion that it’s peaceful for the both of you and has found your presence to be quite comforting while he’s working on a project

Still finds that “everyone before me” type of personality annoying and calls you out on it A LOT

JOTARO KUJO

Rohan found you insufferable but Jotaro finds you ABSOLUTELY INTOLERABLE

He genuinely hates it and he hates how you’re okay with it

Like people come to you and just dump their woes on you and you’ve come to accept it and he’s like tf??? No???

It makes no sense to him because you just seem to take care of everyone and put yourself last. Like every single time someone gets injured, you pull some mom type bs and suck it up and help them

Even when Josuke is right there- like you insist on helping (Josuke heals them when you leave or turn your back since you don’t have a stand and won’t understand what’s going on)

Jotaro finds your “I don’t need people to take care of me but I need to take care of others” vibe to be useful, but at the same time he just can’t stand it

When he first met you, he had come across you while you were working. He found out later that you’re a good friend of Josuke’s mother and that’s when he officially got to meet you

Your arm was broken and yet you were running around the house, shouting at Josuke and helping his mother with her chores

It left him stunned in a way that he didn’t know was possible

When you introduced yourself to him, he brushed you off. He could tell you weren’t down for his tough guy act

BUT HE DIDNT CAREEEE RAHHHHHH

He figured if you really wanted to get to know him, you’d push past his stubbornness and do so, but he soon found out you were equally as stubborn as he was

You found him at the Grand Morioh Hotel and offered to put your stubbornness to the side if it meant that you got to know him better

I’ll be so honest the first thing you asked about were the various scars on his body

He was surprised because typically people don’t ask about them. They just assume that they were from his delinquent days and move on

It was so weird to him that he just kinda stood there awkwardly and looked at you

“Since I’m here and all- why don’t we get to know each other?” You shrugged and walked over to a nearby chair, sitting down and crossing your legs as you looked up at him.

“Makes no difference to me.” He grumbled and crossed his arms, tilting his head just right the brim of his hat covered his eyes.

You sat in silence for a while, observing him. “Tell me about those scars. The ones at the base of your neck.” You pointed and propped your elbow up onto the armrest of the chair.

“Excuse me?” He looked at you and you saw the hint of surprise shining in those eyes of his.

“If you’re uncomfortable, then you don’t have to. But I’d like to know what happened. They look pretty rough.”

He told you and internally LOVED how you listened intently, asking questions and paying attention to his every word

But he didn’t tell you that 🙄

He’s picked up on how you both tend to put others first, and bit by bit, he warms up to you

It starts with slowly agreeing with what you’re saying, or helping you do minor things like clean up. It’s things like that that he secretly enjoys doing with you

And while helping you pick up after Josuke while his mother is away, you wound up cutting your hand on a shard of broken glass

Hurt like a bitch but you didn’t let him know that

He forced you to take a break and sit down so he could clean it up and OH BOY it was worse than he thought

Especially your reaction to it

“I’m fine, alright?” You huffed, trying to pull your hand away from his grasp. The palm of your hand was oozing with blood, and you just knew it was going to scar. It stung so bad that you had tears in your eyes, but you bit your cheek to prevent yourself from seeming weaker than you already looked.

“Shut up and let me clean that thing.” He argued, rolling his eyes and grabbing your wrist harshly, resulting in a hiss of pain from you. He slowly wiped away the blood from your palm, furrowing his brows in concentration as you worked. He felt his heart drop when he saw you shaking slightly.

“I said it’s fine.” You choked out, sighing at his determination. His grip on your wrist loosened and he hummed in response to your words.

“You don’t seem fine.”

“That doesn’t matter. I will be soon enough.”

He began to disinfect it, his arm instinctively flying out to hold you in place as he worked. You tensed up in pain, but said nothing, refusing to look down at him for fear that he might see your tears.

“You’re right.” He mumbled. “You will be fine.” He paused and grabbed the gauze. “But you can’t be stubborn all the time.”

He’s still a bit of a douche to you, but then again you are too

But then you guys come to a mutual realization that it’s okay to confide in someone and after that you really begin to warm up to one another

He still enjoys helping you, but hates doing it where Josuke can see or hear because he knows he’ll never hear the end of it

“Oooh you like my mom’s friendddd” “Shut the hell up.” “Yes sir.”

Takes no shit when it comes to you at that point. If he sees someone giving you hell after you’ve been through enough then he’s gonna kick their ass.

Tsundere type like Rohan but we love him so it’s okay

Is so willing to listen to all your family problems and such, constantly telling you that you’re his favorite out of all of them or cheesy stuff like that. (He hasn’t met a single one of your family members and would like to keep it that way for fear he’d beat them for looking at you the wrong way)

Both of you still nag each other for being stubborn, but now you’ve come to an understanding, so it’s slightly more tolerable than your first encounter

#jojo’s bizarre adventure #jojo’s bizzare adventure x reader #jjba jotaro #jotaro kujo #jotaro x reader #jotaro cujoh #jotaro kujo x reader #kishibe rohan #rohan kishibe x reader #rohan au louvre #rohan kishibe #jjba fanfic #jjba x reader #x reader #comfort #eldest daughter reader #trauma bonding #😩😩😩#x eldest daughter reader

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mickimomo · 10 months

Text

Smile At Me For Once - (Attoye)

I finally got the motivation to write Attoye again! I figured I’d do a few warm ups again, by writing out little prompts that have been living rent free in my mind while working on the next chapters of my fics. Enjoy! :)

p.s. this isn’t set in the Sun and the Sky AU. It’s just post-BPWF, after a treaty has been signed.

Since the treaty was signed between Wakanda and Talokan, little workshops were being held between the two nations to give the people opportunities to learn new skills and build friendships.

Okoye had been very eager to sign up for a few artsy and combat workshops. The midnight angel was hopeful to learn some new ways to kick ass but also embrace this foreign culture. Throughout the entire cultural exchange, she had been very openminded about it all until she had crossed paths with Attuma in a sparring workshop where they played a rougher version of hot potato mixed with floor hockey using a weaker water bomb and wooden spears.

Essentially, you had an unknown number of hits to get the ball in a goal.

If it explodes while you’re maneuvering it around, you’re out until your team scores a goal.

It was a fun game that really boosted everyone’s morale but seeing Attuma and Okoye go against each other while their teammates sat on the bench with bated breaths really got everyone invested.

The man had used every chance he had to be near her, trying his hardest to start a conversation as he maneuvered around her. Through mean mugs and stank eyes, Attuma refused to leave her side. Even causing his team to lose a couple of rounds until she made it clear that she only wished to kick his ass.

Attuma understood that as, ‘I will only respect you if you defeat me or lose to me after giving your all.’

Okoye left the workshop sore, wet, and tattered while Attuma watched her retreat with a bruised grin and blood-filled rebreather.

He had managed to win a few rounds, but he played nastier than she ever wished to discuss or think about after today.

It wasn’t even nasty in a dishonorable cheating manner.

He just played without mercy or restraint or any sense of personal space. This resulted in Okoye having to literally fight for her life or peel him off of her.

There were moments where the wind had been knocked out of her and other moments where Attuma had sent her flipping across the field. He’d always be there to break her falls though, unintentionally groping her during inspections that often ended with gentle touches and the occasional Band-Aid.

Okoye never complained out loud though.

If he wanted to be rough, she could be just as rough.

She had been successful enough to knock him down a few times, but it always left her muscles screaming at how much strength it required to send the blue titan into the muddy earth.

Once she claimed the final victory, earning cheers from her team, Okoye left. She could feel Attuma’s gaze on her back, but she refused to turn around.

She was a wounded cat, desperate to lick her wounds in private.

“Um...Okoye...why did Attuma pin you down like that-”

“-Because he is an idiot.”

“Well, you look like you had fun.” Aneka grinned.

“Do I look like I had fun?” Okoye turned to glare at her friend.

“Well, now you don’t.” She pouted.

“I hope I never have another workshop with that man present.”

“Eh? Why?”

Okoye’s eyes burned into the midnight angel, forcing her to lift her hands in surrender.

“I’ll be quiet.”

“Good.”

Aneka remained quiet as they left the muddy field.

Okoye’s wish of not seeing Attuma had been granted by Bast temporarily.

She’d gone to weaving workshops, cooking workshops, and even carving workshops without seeing Attuma.

It was all going well until she went to the painting workshop that was being led by the king of Talokan.

She should have known Attuma had been praying to Chaac to see her when the sky opened and dropped an ocean’s load of rain.

The downpour was relentless as it soaked her clothes and pebbled her skin, scolding her until she moved faster.

Sandaled feet carried her towards the citadel and down a gilded hallway before she entered the workshop room that was at the beginning of a well-lit corridor.

Rain dripped from her eyelashes as her eyes scanned the room, eager to find a seat without disrupting the class.

Attuma was the only one sitting by himself in the back, while the king paced the front of the room, talking about a painting he had created.

Namor seemed fixated on the painting he had done while he talked, so now was the best time to go.

She gritted her teeth and mouthed a slew of curses as she took off her shoes and tip toed to the empty seat next to the warrior.

Dark brown eyes locked onto her as she quietly pulled out the chair and sat down, successfully making her way in without Namor noticing.

Attuma breathed out a single word.

“In ba’ate’el.” (Warrior.)

But this time, it made her skin feel warm as it fell from his covered lips.

It had somehow gone from something he called her out of respect to perhaps a term of endearment. A nickname between foes to something Okoye refused to acknowledge.

Attuma accepted her glare as a warm welcome before sliding her a few pieces of paper.

“I.” He gently touched his chest. “Write.” He pointed at the papers.

She glanced at the papers apprehensively before taking them when she realized they contained details on the culture behind today’s workshop. Little fun facts and important moments of Talokanil history written neatly in English.

She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t impressed by his act of kindness.

It was clear that whatever his king had written on the board had been duplicated neatly- just for her.

He stared at her, patiently waiting for an ounce of praise.

“Thanks.”

He allowed his lips to curl upward behind his rebreather before he refocused on the speaking king.

Her eyes moved forward too, watching the king pause to put down a piece of paper.

“Alright. Now that we’ve covered the history, let’s jump into today’s craft.” Namor smiled. “Today, you will be working in pairs to create a mural of each other. In Talokan, we keep our culture strong by spilling our history into our art. We tell stories, sing songs, weave tapestries, write music, carve statues, and paint grand murals to record the past. Then, each generation adds to it. This makes our art better and the culture richer.” He lifted up a large painting. “Here is a small example I whipped together for this class. Here we have Chaac leading our priest to the plant that helped our ancestors move to the sea.”

He began to repeat himself, speaking in his mother tongue.

Her ears were able to pick up a handful of words to verify it, but she eventually tuned him out as she took in the large painting.

Namor was talented.

Talented felt like a small word.

An insult almost.

His painting skills were known to be amongst the greatest between both nations, so it made sense that he was leading this workshop. However, seeing his craft in person truly left the group speechless.

The mural was detailed, swirling with various cool tones.

Somber ceruleans, rich viridians, and regal violets.

Sprinkles of sand and clay browns as painted hands reached for a plant that floated down from a watching deity.

Everything was outlined with obsidian and highlighted with white and lighter cool tones.

He pointed at each component of the painting before looking up at everyone. “The story is clear that this is how Talokan came to be.” He put the painting down. “I want you all to work together to make a story about the two of you and paint it. At the end of this workshop, you all will present it to the group.”

He repeated himself once more in Yucatec Mayan before he moved forward to start handing out materials. “If you have any questions for me, please do not hesitate to ask. We have three hours to work on this, so please pour out your creativity and make something beautiful and meaningful with your partner.”

Okoye recoiled at the word ‘partner’ as he began his final translation.

Attuma on the other hand was elated.

His eyes moved to the woman beside him, drinking in her soaked attire.

He was used to seeing her in uniform, but today she was wearing a cropped orange and yellow blouse that tied in the front with a floor length orange and red skirt that moved like lava whenever she walked. She was heavily accessorized with golden bangles, a gold idzila, and a few jade waist beads.

Before he could take in anymore of her beauty, she snapped her red polished fingers in front of his face, sporting a scowl she always wore around him.

He blinked and she sighed before moving forward to place a kimoyo bead in his ear.

The world sounded foreign until she tapped her bracelet and looked up at him curiously.

“Do you understand me?”

He blinked before nodding slowly. “Yes. Can you understand me?”

She nodded. “Yes. Technology.” She offered jokingly before leaning back. “So, we need to tell a story. Let’s make some draft sketches of the mural and then pick the best one.”

“Ok.” He nodded. “Do you want to work separately, or do you want to work together on these drafts?”

“Separately.”

“Ok.”

“Let’s regroup in twenty minutes.” She tapped her kimoyo beads to set a timer.

“Ok.”

He watched her grab a piece of scrap paper and begin to doodle before doing the same.

Every few minutes, he would glance at her, stare at her longingly, get scolded, and refocus on his work.

By the time the twenty minutes was up, he had twenty drafts and she had four.

“I’m surprised you have so many.”

“I’d probably have more if you didn’t yell at me so much.”

“It is difficult to do my task with a creep staring holes into my head.”

“I’m not a creep. I was referencing your features. Your face has to be a part of the mural.”

She gave him a pointed look before she began to lay out her drafts. “Well, let’s see what we’ve got.”

He nodded before laying out his drafts.

He had drawn Okoye twenty times, each one slightly lewder than the first time.

Okoye on the other hand had drawn both of them, taking inspiration from Namor’s style as she drew out different tales from different battles, they’d fought each other in.

There was depth and details and a story.

Everything that was supposed to be there but was missing in Attuma’s work.

He could draw, but nothing he created told a story.

It didn’t capture anything more than the curve of her breasts and ass- amidst the vibrancy of her eyes and fierce scowl she always wore around him.

Very similar to the one she wears now.

“What do you think?” He smiled warmly at her.

“Attuma, you are talented...” She started. “...but you lack the ability to write a story. In fact, you drew me explicitly in every draft.”

“The way I have drawn you is not offensive to my people. Is it offensive to yours?”

“No, but I am more than my tits and ass.”

“Would it look better if I added myself?”

“Why-” She pinched the bridge of her nose to compose herself. “Quality over Quantity. Have you ever heard that phrase before?”

He thought it over. “Not exactly like that...”

“But you understand what I mean, yes?”

“Could you explain?”

“You have nothing more to offer to this idea besides explicit doodles of me. Although the doodles look nice, it’s the same thing... which means you’ve basically given only one idea.” She held up an index finger. “One idea that can’t be used or enjoyed by anyone because there’s no story or lore or creativity behind it.”

“But you are beautiful.”

“Right, but that’s not the theme of this mural. People will get tired of seeing the same thing over and over again. If I showed someone the same doodle twenty times, under the façade that it was something new each time, they’d grow sick of me. Which is why I’m disappointed with your drafts… beyond the obvious explicitness.” She shot him a look as he listened attentively. “We have to be innovative and creative. Just because it has Attuma and Okoye in it, doesn’t mean it’s good. Especially if it’s just the same thing over and over and over again. Whatever we present has to be new and additive to the story we’re trying to tell and something we’re proud of. We have to present this at the end, you know. It should be something of good quality. Something I would want to hang up in my living room and read books under.”

“Then let’s look at your ideas.” He tilted his head. “Maybe I can help draw one of those in a rough draft before we work on the mural.” He offered a small smile. “Whatever we make, I want it to make you happy.”

Okoye nodded as she looked away shyly. “Ok.”

Her four drafts were amazing, each blending the cultures of Wakanda and Talokan to create an ornate mural.

The first one centered around Bast and Chaac blessing her and Attuma in combat as they fought on a bridge.

The second portrayed a midnight angel descending on a warrior adorned with the head of a hammerhead shark, pointing her spear with a vow of sending him off to his ancestors.

The third centered around her kicking Attuma off the sea leopard and into the sea.

The fourth centered around Attuma pointing down at Okoye while she stood underneath an aircraft, holding a child close.

She spent a few minutes explaining each doodle before waiting for Attuma to pick one to work on.

He stared at each doodle with great focus before picking up the third one. “This one.”

She looked at it. “Why?”

“In that moment, we truly became equals.”

“You looked down on me before I kicked you off that ship?”

“No, but the fire in your eyes burned the brightest that day.” He smiled fondly at the doodle. “It makes me wish we had never been enemies.” His smile dropped. “Perhaps you wouldn’t glare at me as much.”

Okoye stared at him as they sat in silence for a minute or two.

“I glare at everyone.” She huffed under her breath, ignoring how his eyes brightened as she looked away.

“I will keep that in mind and not be offended by your angry gaze.”

“Yeah.” She dismissed him, suddenly feeling uncomfortable by her attempt at comforting him. “How long do you need to add your own style to it?”

“Twenty minutes.”

“Ok.” She set another timer. “I’ll start making paint swatches, so we know what colors we want to use.”

“Ok.”

The pair worked quietly on their parts of the project before regrouping when the timer went off.

Okoye looked the doodle over, while Attuma waited patiently for her feedback.

“This looks good to me.” She looked over the patterns he included to add more dimension to the mural. He even cleaned up the design of her characters, being mindful to not erase the notes of her culture she had woven throughout the design.

There were a few creative differences incorporated, but it was definitely something she wouldn’t mind hanging on her living room wall if everything turned out great in the end.

“Can we start working on the sheet of canvas now?”

“I think so.” Okoye nodded. “You can draw the outline and then I’ll paint it.”

“Do a rough draft of what colors you want to use on the draft I just finished while I work.” He glanced up at her. “I don’t want to be in your way when you’re painting.”

“Ok.”

Attuma took a deep breath as he lifted the roll of canvas and rolled it out on the floor. Azure fingers began to spread out the dense material before he grabbed a piece of charcoal and got to work.

Nimble fingers skillfully mixed different colors of paint on a palette before pressing themselves into the wet paint.

She stamped her finger into the areas to denote where each color would go, occasionally going over colors with something different when it didn’t look how she wanted.

Once she was satisfied with her work, Okoye dried her fingers off on a rag and turned back to face Attuma with curious eyes.

At some point while she was working, he had pulled his hair up into a messy bun, failing to catch every single fly away.

His brows were furrowed in concentration while his hands moved with precision and accuracy across the canvas.

Upon closer inspection, it dawned on her that Attuma wasn’t dressed in his usual uniform.

He had on a long jade skirt that complimented his many piercings and a thick band of cream cloth that wrapped around his waist twice before trailing a line diagonally up and over his shoulder.

He didn’t even have his headdress on.

He instead wore a viridian and a cream feather tucked behind his ear with a few shark teeth charms attached to the handful of braids that had been neatly done throughout his hair.

At a quick glance, he looked like a sculpture of a deity who was heavily invested in something.

He was some sort of sea god or water god.

Enchanting her like a siren, luring a pirate out to his demise.

His gaze lifted to meet hers for a moment before he lifted his brow in curiosity.

“Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“You’re staring.”

“I just wanted to make sure I mixed the right shade of blue for your skin.”

“You can do swatches of paint on my back to test it out if you want.”

“No need.” She turned around, flustered, and ashamed that she had been caught.

Attuma chuckled softly as he refocused on his work.

Once he was done, he got up and leaned over her, forcing her to meet his gaze.

“It’s your turn, warrior.”

“Okoye.”

“Hm?”

“My name is Okoye.”

“My apologies. It is your turn, Okoye.”

She offered a small nod before getting up and retreating to the floor.

“Is this okay?” She held up her rough draft.

“It’s perfect.”

“Ok.”

Attuma sat at the table and watched her begin to paint, being extra careful to be neat with each stroke.

Time moved slowly as Okoye worked.

He watched her every move quietly, being mindful not to gawk or make her uncomfortable.

If he was a water god, then she was a goddess of fire.

Beautiful opposites that could destroy one another if not careful but be steamy if allowed to mix.

Okoye could feel him staring but decided not to acknowledge it.

Once she was done painting, Attuma sat back down to finish outlining and highlighting the mural before they signed the bottom right corner.

The pair stepped back to admire their work, covered in smudges of charcoal and a few flecks of paint.

“We’re done.” Okoye breathed out.

“Mhm.”

“We did it.”

“We did.”

“Alright.” Namor spoke up. “While some of you add the finishing touches to your mural, let’s start presenting so that we can clean up and go.” His eyes scanned the room. “Do I have any volunteers?”

Okoye kept her hand down, but Attuma raised his hand.

Her eyes burned into the warrior as Namor grinned.

“Great! Attuma and Okoye will be our first presenters.” He waved them forward. “Come to the front and discuss the lore of your mural.”

Okoye sighed as she helped Attuma lift their mural and carry it to the front of the room.

Gasps filled the air as everyone took in the painting.

The painting was mostly various hues of blue, teal, and gold.

An unmasked midnight angel, striking Attuma into the waves with fire in her eyes.

Instead of painting a ship or an actual sea leopard, a large black panther was painted fighting with a feathered sea serpent in the sea.

The people of Wakanda were denoted by small purple panther cubs clinging to the panther’s back and the people of Talokan were denoted by small jade serpents trying to move up K’uk’ulkan’s back.

Attuma explained it all in Yucatec Mayan first before Okoye spoke in Xhosa.

He removed the kimoyo bead in his ear to relish in the sound of her explaining things in her own mother tongue.

It was beautiful.

She was beautiful.

Her lips stopped moving as her dark brown eyes moved to meet his.

She looked him over as the sound of clapping and soft cheers filled the air.

It all became background noise the moment she smiled at Attuma.

His skin purpled as she parted her lips to say, “Dios bo’otik.” (Thank you.)

“In k’áatech.” (I love you.) He breathed out.

“Huh?”

“Mixba’al.” (You’re welcome.) He spoke up as his blush deepened.

“Ah.” Okoye laughed softly as she looked away.

“That was a brilliant presentation you two! Thank you for volunteering to share first.” Namor beamed at them.

“Thank Attuma.” She jutted a thumb at the General before taking the mural from him. “I just wanted some art for my home.”

Attuma watched her quietly, drinking in all the joy that crossed her face before looking at his king with wide eyes when he snapped his fingers.

He arched a brow before realizing he was gawking at Okoye again.

Namor only shook his head as Attuma retreated and chuckled. “Alright, who’s next?”

The End

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once-in-a-blood-moon · 10 months

Text

Lux Astrorum

Solomon x GN! reader

Summary: You and Solomon sit on the roof stargazing, and some interesting curiosities arise.

AN: Guess who's back? It has been way too long since I've written anything, but I'm still in the middle of a writer's block and college courses, so this is like a one time thing...for now. Ooh, I hope y'all like this! :)

Warnings: None

Shadows painted across your face as you and Solomon sat on the roof of Cocytus Hall. He had suggested the two of you climb up and stargaze for a little while as a way to unwind after another stressful day. The inky black sky hung above your heads as the soft chirping of frogs filled the silence that surrounded you. Small dots of light shimmered against the dark backdrop, and mentally, Solomon was connecting the stars together and forming the constellations he was familiar with.

If this was the human realm, his eyes wouldn’t hesitate to flicker to every constellation, to every lone star and recount to himself the stories and legends behind them. And while he’s familiar enough with the Devildom folktales, nothing can compare to the sky back home.

“Solomon?”

The sorcerer’s eyes shift slowly over to your figure, whose head is still lifted up towards the sky. His voice stays soft so as to not disturb the tranquil peace between the two of you. “Hm? Something on your mind?”

He watches you take a steadying breath before you speak again. “Have you ever held a star in the palm of your hands?”

Solomon’s eyes spark with interest at your question before he chuckles to himself. “I have, yes. Is there any reason you’re asking?”

“No.” You shake your head, never taking your eyes off the stars. “I was just curious.”

Solomon nods as he glances back up as well. And for a few moments, it’s silent between the two of you once more. He thinks about saying something…anything, after missing your presence all day. He takes a breath to speak but pauses as you begin again; your voice so quiet he wonders if you even mean to say these things out loud.

“Have you ever walked on the dark side of the moon before? Or maybe visited a celestial entity just because you could? Seen galaxies that exist far, far away…or watched a supernova up close?” You finally break your gaze from the sky, blinking at him with a childlike curiosity. “Have you ever done anything like that before?”

He’s taken aback by all your sudden questions, each one more interesting than the last. A soft smile is directed your way as he answers you. “I’ve done all those things and more. But those stories would be too long and complicated to explain.” He sighs as he fondly reminisces those experiences only he could witness firsthand. “I can still feel the light on my skin from the stars I’ve held. Every time I look up at the sky at night, I’m reminded of their radiance and warmth. I may have lived a long life and I may not remember everything that I’ve done…but it’s something you never forget.”

Solomon chuckles at your reaction after having made it out from the darkness; your mouth agape slightly and your eyes wide and intent. “There must be some interest in these subjects if you’re asking so much. If you’d like, I’ll teach you how to summon a star into your hand.”

You gasp softly. “Woah, really?”

Solomon nods with a grin. “Yes, really. And until then…” He waves his hand around with a graceful flourish and a small stone appears in the palm of his hand. He eyes it for a moment, feeling the energy humming from it through his veins. “You can have this.”

It’s a crystal that holds an endless galaxy within it, though its contents are merely a replica that he’s conjured up with his magic. He holds his hand out for you to take it. Your eyes flick down to his extended hand, tentatively taking the object and closely inspecting it in awe.

“This is beautiful, but why do you want me to have it?”

“Why not?” Solomon shrugs, grinning at you. “It’s mine to give to whoever I choose, and that person is you.” He leans in and places a featherlight kiss to your cheek but he doesn’t lean back. He stays close to your face, gently caressing your cheek with his hand and guiding you to lock eyes with him.

“It’s my promise to you. It’s my promise to protect you and to help you cultivate your knowledge for all things magic. It’s my promise that you will hold a star in your hand. And I’ll be there with you every step of the way.”

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me fluff #obey me scenarios #obey me imagines #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #jo writes

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