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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Note

Ok so Ik this has already been done with ej, but I’m a toby simp, and I wanted to ask. Reader finding out toby is cheating on them? Maximum of 1k words, a scenario idk, smth. Ty!

-👾

It's Dangerous, To Love the Sun

[Ticci Toby X F!Reader]

[Warnings: angst in general, physical and emotional cheating, violence, language]

[AN: I listened to Brooksie - Not Into You slowed + reverbed while writing this, I hope you enjoyed! Also went a lil over,,, the word count because I kinda liked this,,,,,,,,,,,]

You love Toby. Ever since he came into your life, you’ve been happier with him at your side. He makes you smile, he makes your heart sing. You’ve never felt so complete.

The way he looks at you is akin to gazing at a masterpiece. His eyes are so full of love when he gazes at you from across the room, wondering when you’ll finally break away from your conversation with Jeff to be at his side again.

His touch is gentle, never harsh. Toby’s fingers trace up and down your forearms and back, ghosts, whisper-like kisses of physical affection in an attempt to show you what he verbally cannot express. He’s always so warm, so loving, so whole.

He completes you, is what you’re trying to get at.

The two of you like to sit on rooftops late at night because neither Masky nor Hoodie can stand the two of you giggling at odd hours of the day in their presence. Kate’s not around long enough to actually care. When it’s just the two of you sitting up here, quiet, against each other and breathing in the sweet night air, you feel more complete than you’ve ever felt before.

You hum out, watching the stars twinkle in the sky, a dreamy expression on your face as Toby momentarily stops playing with your hair.

“What’s o-o-on your mind, b-baby?” He asks, a brow raised. Toby shifts on the shingles, his arms wrapping around you like an octopus, bringing you closer and closer into his warmth.

You find yourself blanketed in him and relax. “You’re so good to me, y’know that?” You say.

Toby scoffs and rolls his eyes. “O-Other way around,” he corrects.

You tilt your head and shake it slightly, telling him he’s wrong. “You’ve always been so good to me,” you continue, brushing off his attempts to play down your saccharine words.

He knows you’re not fibbing, but at the same time, he refuses to admit to your claims. “I d-d-did what w-was expected o-of me, you know t-that,” he states plainly.

You take in another deep breath before resting your head on his shoulder, melting into him. You pick up his scent: oak and burning winter, before retorting against him again in a voice a hair above a whisper. “You’re wrong.”

Toby laughs, his lips pressing to the side of your head. “If y-y-you say so,” he murmurs, pressing more kisses to your head and eventually your face. He revels in the sound of your laughter as he does so, leaving no inch of you unkissed.

“I know so.”

The two of you fall back into a pleasant silence.

You’ve always viewed Toby like he has power over the sun, because, as far as being a proxy goes? He does. When you were first plucked from your life and called for something ‘greater’, it was Toby who had taken pity on you, trained you, taught you all you needed to know and the ins and outs of this life. He was the one who shielded you from Masky, Hoodie and even Kate at times.

It was by his hand that you survived, and it is still by his hand that you thrive.

It was such a blinding adoration for a man you believed held dominion over the sun that kept you veiled from the truth of what he had been doing behind closed doors, yet could be seen through the windows.

Naturally, you didn’t want to believe it. Who would? The person you love’s heart has fled the place it used to live with you and taken up residence with someone else. That’s not an easy thing to admit, not when you realize that love truly is not all it takes.

Toby doesn’t want to admit it either. It started out as some strange infatuation, a fleeting crush - someone he would forget.

But her eyes? Her darling eyes? One of them the most beautiful shade of peridot he’d ever seen and the other a literal clock? They say the eyes (in her case, eye) are the window to the soul, and she had absolutely snared his. She was beautiful in a way Toby couldn’t describe, beautiful in a way that had him seeing a sky full of stars in the middle of the day, and beautiful in the sense she was timeless.

Toby knows he should be ashamed, that she’s his little secret, that what he has with Natalie can’t be compared with you, but he knows he can’t let you find out lest you go too far you can’t come back.

That blinding sun made you shrug off the bruises that were too keenly placed to be a victim’s sorry attempt at freeing themself. You shrugged off the scent of roses and wine. You shrugged off how his eyes saw past you, no longer at you. You shrugged it all off, choosing to stay blinded than face the truth.

And you would’ve happily lived in that ignorance if Toby didn’t grow cocky and arrogant and so fucking careless.

You’ve never really felt your world crash and burn until today. You've never been burned by the sun until this moment.

You’re looking into the eyes of a man you think owns the sun and see nothing but fear, regret, and pleading. Pleading for what? That you won’t leave him? That you’ll stay with him? You feel tears well in your eyes as you see him laying in your bed with her. The woman who had been naught but a shadow until now.

“R-Reader,” Toby begins, quickly wrestling up in the sheets, watching as your soul leaves your body in the doorway. “B-Baby, it’s n-no-”

You’re at a loss for words, and frankly, you don’t think he even deserves the right to your thoughts at this moment. Instead, you hold your hand up, silencing him, and turn to leave the temp house. You were out doing work for your fucking boss and get rewarded like this? The man you loved in bed with another woman, looking at her like she owned the moon. You take in a sharp breath and then begin to beeline to the front door when Toby finally gets out of the bed, ignoring the cries of confusion pouring from Natalie’s mouth.

Your heart races when you realize Toby is gaining on you. Your vision blurs through your tears.

He’s calling out for you, his stutter even stronger than before, bones popping louder and louder as he gets hit with the weight of what he’s done to you. “Stop! S-Stop fucking m-m-moving!” He hisses, his calloused hand reaching out for your wrist, successfully grabbing you.

You snarl like a caged, wounded animal, flesh burning at the contact. “Don’t fucking touch me,” you sneer as you attempt to rip your wrist from his iron grasp. In your other hand, you already have the car keys ready. You just want to be anywhere but here.

“I-I’m so s-s-sorry,” Toby says, attempting to pull you into a hug.

You struggle against him harder, hissing to be let go. The keys in your free hand are getting threaded in your fingertips. Your tears feel warm and boil your cheeks as they roll down like waterfalls. The harder he grips you, the more you feel you’ve been burned to a point of no return. “God fucking damn it, let me go!” You shout, not even noticing how Natalie has come out of the room to get Toby off of you. She’s quickly gaining in the hallway, confused on if she should step in or not.

Toby tries harder and harder to pull you into his embrace, and that’s when you strike.

You take your car key filled fingers and punch as hard as you can, the teeth of the keys dragging across Toby’s cheek, successfully shocking him into letting you go. You don’t even consider how badly you’ve hurt him and take the opportunity of his shock to flee the temp house, quickly hopping into the car.

“Reader!” Toby shouts, hand on his right cheek, not even caring about the claw marks you’ve left. “B-Baby, let’s t-talk about t-this-”

You start honking the horn to drown his voice out. Your eyebrows are furrowed, a scowl on your face, glare holding nothing but bullets towards Toby and Natalie as she attempts to wrangle him back into the house.

You watch as her arms wrap around his waist - she’s surprisingly gentle for dealing with such a belligerent man - before peeling out of the driveway, hand still honking the horn and practically waking up the neighborhood while you’re at it.

Your mind overloads as you drive, thoughts of the sun getting eclipsed by the other celestial body that overtakes it in full, swallowing it whole. You mutter angrily to yourself, turning on the radio for just noise as you finally get onto the expressway. And you drive. You drive until your head feels clear again, and when it does, you’re finally able to focus on something other than what’s in front of you on the endless stretch of road.

Autumn is making its way in, that much is apparent. Every now and then, specks of orange and red zip past your high beams. It’s cooler, and you swear you’ve passed a few flowering pumpkin patches.

You look to your left, gazing out the window for a moment or so.

The moon is decidedly absent this night.

You sigh as the fires extinguish in your heart, loneliness, sadness and any other emotion draining alongside it leaving a pit in your chest.

The emptiness quickly takes its place, haunting you like the ghost it is.

#ticci toby #ticci toby x reader #ticci toby headcanon #creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #x reader #reader insert #ticci toby x y/n #clockwork #natalie ouellette #angst

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alfredosauce50 · 3 years

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The anatomy of the obsessed artist [2p! Italy x reader]

Synopsis: You have the golden opportunity to display your art at a newly opened gallery. Nobody stops to look at your work until an eccentric connoisseur praises it, even asking you if he can buy it. Touched and fascinated by his personality, you agree to meet him over coffee. Now that he’s no stranger, he keeps inviting you over to his lavish estate until he realizes it’s not the art he’s so obsessed with. It’s the artist. Wordcount: 3, 686 The reader is referred to as she/her. “Nihilism represented a crude form of positivism and materialism, a revolt against the established social order; it negated all authority exercised by the state, by the church, or by the family.” - Encyclopedia of Britannica

“It's hideous.” He murmured, his eyes narrowed with contempt. They were a hot magenta hue, quick-moving and critical of everything they fixed on. How much he wished to say he was standing back to admire a masterpiece. Tossing his paintbrush into the kitchen sink with a sigh, he sauntered to the couch and plummeted down on it.

A loud clang was heard, but it never fazed his companion, who barely dodged the trajectory of the brush. “Oh, really?” They snorted. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done.”

He whipped his head to him and glared.

“Like you'd have an eye for these things, Lutz.”

Said man gave a shrug. This was probably the hundredth time they had this conversation, so he could practically predict what Luciano was about to say—and how he would wind up listening unwillingly to his passionate spiels.

“Just listen to me speak for once.”

Lutz scoffed and poured himself a hot cup of coffee. “Here we go again...” He grumbled with a distinct droop to his features.

Rolling his head back to the pristine, white ceiling, Luciano threw his hands up in emphasis. “It's the only damn thing that gives this room some color. I need to do better, Lutz. Otherwise, I'll tear this whole place down!” Even then, his animated movements were minuscule compared to the tall walls that surrounded him.

The other sipped on his mug. “If you're so stuck—” He smacked his lips. “—how about going to the new art gallery downtown? Anything to get you to shut up.” Lutz grinned at that, half-expecting him to launch a few throwing knives his way. But he never did. Instead, he jumped up and extended an index to point at him accusingly.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo? Well, I might just go. Just to prove you wrong.” Grabbing his coat hanging over the couch, he threw it on and marched downstairs. As the echoes of his footsteps faded, he gave one final reckoning. “You can't rush art, dumbass! I'll turn the place upside down, and I still won't find anything worth my time.”

The volume of his thoughts had never been so loud. It was the only thing he heard in this quiet institution during its downtime. Nobody was around, save for him, but that allowed him to ramble to himself--whatever he was staring at, it was everything he had been looking for.

“This was definitely worth my time.” He muttered with a pistol grip on his chin. As he scanned over the canvas to take in the brushstrokes, he shook his head. “I hate to think he said something smart for once.” They were so violent, yet so gentle. A unique balance of nihilism and faith. Reaching up to his dark maroon hair, he dug through it and laughed in awe. “This is magnificent. Bellisima!”

“I hope you mean what you say, sir. That means a lot to me.” He turned to the voice ended up gawking at a woman. As he processed the words, he was at a loss for his own.

“Oddio--you don't mean you painted this, do you, signorina?”

She nodded coyly, much to his delight.

“Mhm. The name on the label is mine.”

At the sound of that, he gleamed and took both her hands into his own. “How much?”

She blinked, unsure of whether she heard him correctly. Was he offering to buy her work? “Sorry?”

“How much do you want for your painting? I'll pay you handsomely. One grand. Ten grand. However much you desire! I just need this in my living room. Whatever you ask for, it's a done deal!”

In your short career, you never imagined capturing someone's attention so passionately with your work. Your initial impression of the man was a rich art collector of some kind--an eccentric enthusiast--and not a connoisseur by any means. He even dressed the part, having adorned himself in a loose, silky blouse with a coat tied around his waist. His fashion was flashy and exuded confidence, though nothing else could have suited his personality.

As you talked to him over a coffee, however, it became clear to you he was much more than that.

“I've never seen somebody use color like that! You must've done lots of practice to get that good, eh?” He mused, watching you light up at his praise. There was no denying the sincerity in his voice, so you couldn't help being drawn to him and his zeal. “I'll be honest with you, bella. I'm not letting you run off before we settle on something.”

He could tell from the way you leaned in so subtly, never once breaking your eye contact as you listened to him. And knowing this did wonders--he slowly found himself drawn to you.

“Thank you, Luciano. I'm really flattered, but I can't just sell it to you. It's part of the gallery now.” You smiled gently, curling your fingers around the cup handle. Even as you sipped on your beverage, your gaze on him never faltered. And before you could catch any disappointment on his part, you waved your hands at him.

“I don't mean anything by it, honestly. I'm glad that you understand what I'm trying to say--like, you could've interpreted it completely differently. I wouldn't be able to stop you, either. But the fact that you didn't...” He followed you attentively with those sharp and mysterious orbs, but you were strangely comfortable under his scrutiny.

“Maybe we have similar minds.”

The man had been studying you as you spoke. While he did, this one, singular thought occurred to him. There was nothing in the world he loved more in the world than being heard.

“Hearing you talk is the same as being listened to,” Luciano admitted with a small laugh. Deep inside, he knew Lutz always listened. Unwillingly, that was. But being heard and understood was another story. “You take the words right out of my mouth, bella. I don't know how you do it, but you have to stop reading my mind. It's invasive.” He darted his eyes over your expression that morphed into dumbfoundedness--which served as a prelude for embarrassment.

So he couldn't help but smile flirtatiously. “Take me out to dinner first. Only then will I let you finish my sentences.”

You furrowed your brows together, but his smile was far too contagious to be staved off. The end result was an endearingly stupid face that was a cross between a frown and a grin. “Does lunch count then, you impossible little man? I mean, it's around noon.”

He shook his head, amused. Luciano expected you to pull away, but it seemed like he bit off more than he could chew. You were a handful. He was never a fan of handfuls or really anything that required his energy, but he'd be damned if this was the last time he saw you.

“But seriously, (F/N). I need your paintings. And it doesn't have to be something you've already painted.” Standing up at that, he neared your side lowered himself to your level. He settled a hand on your shoulder, much to your surprise. But you never tried to pull away. “I want you to paint for me at my place. I'll do whatever it takes. I'll drink my weight in this mediocre coffee if I have to.”

With his intoxicating personality, all he needed was a few more espressos to do the convincing.

“I can tell from your taste that you're pretty nihilistic.” You commented with a hint of disbelief. “But this is just crazy! What do you even do for a living?” All the expensive decor and extravagance of his stupidly large mansion must have costed a fortune! Lifting your head to take in the sheer size and height of his living room, you then shot him an incredulous look. “Well? I'm curious.”

Luciano leaned against the couch and folded his arms. “Oh, you don't want to know, trust me.” He grinned devilishly.

“What, are you in the mafia or something?” You joked.

He craned his head from right to left.

“Eh. Something like that.”

You blinked, not expecting him to be so frank. Then, you laughed sheepishly, suddenly feeling as if you've walked right into a trap. “... Are you serious?” The man sensed your uneasiness and walked over promptly. Before you could react, he held your arm, but it was much too gentle to stir any panic.

“Don't worry. Nobody would go after an artist I hired.” He leaned in to keep you hostage to his piercing eyes. The close proximity only heightened the tension you didn't know existed. What he said next, however, would have you blushing like a bride. “To have a target on your head means you're a liability. So unless we were an item--”

He smiled contently at the sight of your reddening cheeks. “--nothing will happen.”

Fortunately, your mortification was short-lived as you remembered your circumstances. Giving him a light shove, you walked off to his hallway. While your back was turned to him, he bit back a sharp grin, but to no avail. Man, were you feisty.

“Stop being such a womanizer and show me your studio, Luciano.” You mused, pausing in the doorway to glance at him over your shoulder. Was that playfulness he saw in your eyes?

“It isn't very professional.”

He hung his head and threw his hands up. Being scolded and ordered around was his worst pet peeve. But when you did it, he was only more compelled to misbehave.

“Mi dispiace. But I was only kidding. If I was part of the mob, my windows wouldn't be this big. Nor this abundant.” Making his way to your side, he walked with you to the said studio.

“And Luciano is a bit of a mouthful, no? You call me Luci.”

Unbeknownst to the two of you, someone else had entered the kitchen to pour themselves a drink. And boy, were they in for a show.

“You got it, boss. You call the shots.” A voice spoke in a gravely-exaggerated mobster accent.

“You're milking it...”

“I'm just joking, Luci. Let me have this moment.”

“Fine. Maybe I should've kept pretending. That'll get you to be a little more obedient.”

“And where's the fun in that?”

“Hmph.”

Lutz narrowed his eyes once the voices faded into silence. And he thought he hated being called Luci.

A mischievous smirk plastered across his face.

“Looks like somebody's found their inspiration.”

A few hours later, he appeared in the studio with a canned beer in hand. Even in such a lavish estate, no form of entertainment could beat pestering an old friend. Waltzing inside like he owned the place, he grinned toothily at what he saw. You and Luciano were busy working on a painting. But rather than using brushes, you both used your fingers.

“Hey.”

Luciano glanced at him and immediately felt the beginnings of anger simmer inside. “What do you want?”

Lutz laughed breathily. “Heh. No knives today?”

“If you don't get out, there will be!” The other whisper-shouted.

You stopped painting and turned to the newcomer with nothing short of curiosity. “... Hi. Are you Luci's henchman?” The joke was probably long dead, but you couldn't resist. Not when the stranger was built on six feet of pure muscle. “Nice to meet you.”

So this was the mysterious artist who managed to tame the bastard, huh? Lutz flattened his lips thoughtfully. “... In a way.”

“No, he's not. Now, get out. Your presence is ruining the mood... And killing my brain cells.” At the sound of that, you exploded into a burst of hearty laughter. Seeing Luciano push him out and leave colorful handprints on his tank only intensified those laughs. Once he managed to get his henchman out of the room, he whipped his head to you with a flustered glare.

“What's so funny?” He frowned. For one, he was rather taken aback at how he wasn't annoyed at you. At all. If someone like Lutz pushed their luck by teasing him, there would be more than one scar marring that punchable face of his.

“Nothing, nothing. I just thought... Maybe we could ask for his top and sell it. That was definitely a masterpiece.” You sighed, catching him off guard yet again. “It's the best work you've done today...”

The blush on his face deepened. A comment like that should've ticked him off, but he only found himself thoroughly infatuated. But that was preposterous! He was only letting this slide because you weren't that German bastard of a bum. That had to be it. But no matter what you did, he didn't have a single mean bone in his body for you. And he was about to test that theory.

“If you thought that was a masterpiece, I'll make you some more.” Marching over and undoing your apron, he wiped his fingers all over your once crisp white shirt. Looking down with a gasp, you weren't prepared for him to clap your cheeks and leave two brown handprints.

“You bitch!”

In his whole life surrounded by the worst potty-mouths, himself included, he'd never heard somebody cuss with so much sincerity. So the most logical reaction was to return the favor, if not be a little annoyed. But even as you ruined his blouse, which happened to be more expensive than everything in the room, he was cackling hysterically.

By the time you both calmed down, he had settled his chin atop your head and wrapped two arms around your neck. The paint on his face was drying up, but he was in no hurry to wash it off. Giving you a squeeze, he leaned down and pressed his cheek to yours. “You're coming tomorrow, aren't you?”

“Mhm.”

“And the day after that?”

“I don't see why not.”

“Then what about the day after that?”

You faced him and pinched his cheek affectionately, but he never complained. “If I was, what's the point of leaving, hm? I have something on that day, but I'll update you.”

Standing up at that, you felt his arms slide off of your shoulders. Luciano pulled away reluctantly, and as you left his studio, he found himself trailing after you against his own will. As quiet as he was, inside, he was tearing himself apart, torn between asking you to stay in the guest room and driving you home. But in the end, he got in the car.

Once he arrived outside your house, his body acted out unexpectedly when he shot his hand out to grab yours. The sudden contact startled you, though you could only gleam at his paint-smeared face that stifled back a thousand words. “What, do you miss me that much already?” You chuckled, much to his pleasure.

“You're just missing me too less.” He closed his eyes for a satisfied look. When he opened them again, he added this. “I'll pick you up here. Same spot. 9 am. If you don't show up in five minutes, I'll break inside and pull you out of bed.” Only then did he let you go.

“You got it, boss.”

With that said, you waved at him and made your way inside. Once the door clicked shut, he returned his gaze to the dashboard and shook his head with a defeated smile. “Oh my god.”

When he climbed the flight of stairs to appear next to the kitchen, the hiss of an espresso machine was heard. Rolling his head to it absently, he dropped his keys on the island and dug his hands through his sticky hair. Without addressing the blonde, who took an obvious interest in his disheveled appearance, he sauntered to the couch and flopped down on it.

“... Luciano.”

“What do you want?” He muffled his voice into the cushion.

Lutz walked over with a mug in hand and sipped it. Pointing to his own face, he swirled his index in circles. “You have a little something there.” When the other rolled his head to him, so did their colorful face.

The next two days saw steady progress in the project he paid you to do. While the painting moved closer to completion, he cared less and less about the finished product. At the same time, his eagerness for you to come grew exponentially. He could never admit it, but that didn't mean Lutz couldn't see right through him.

A single glance at him working in the studio was more than enough to deduce the conclusion that he was hopelessly head over heels for you. For one, it wasn't right to say he was even working anymore. Instead, he was staring at you, and sometimes, for twenty minutes or more if you were particularly immersed in your art.

This was only confirmed in due time.

Trotting downstairs to the cellar, he discovered that over ten bottles of wine had disappeared. And the culprit promptly made an appearance when he returned to the living room. Luciano was holding an empty bottle when they bumped into each other, the contact on his shoulder causing him to drop it. When it shattered on the marble floor, so did his patience.

“What the fu--watch where you're going, you fucking idiot!” He hissed, giving the other a strong shove back.

Beer fizzed out of the can and splashed onto his white tank. Lutz couldn't care less about ruining his clothes, but wasting beer? He pulled back with a growl. “I could say the same for you. I'm not the stumbling drunk here cuz' I can actually hold my weight.”

Luciano rolled his eyes and inhaled a deep breath.

“You know what, just leave me alone.” He huffed, kicking the shards on the ground. Once he scattered the glass all over the hall, he stormed off to his studio. Letting out a frustrated string of colorful words, he tore through more canvases than he cared to count. Punching a hole in one, then using another as target practice, half of the artwork was completely destroyed by the time Lutz showed up.

“I don't get it! Why am I so angry? Why can't I paint something like this?” Luciano exasperated, gesturing forcefully to the painting you were working on. Then, he marched up to the man and gripped the front of his tank. “Am I just that shit? But that can't be!”

At this point, Lutz was done with arguing.

“... You know what I'm about to say.”

Luciano threw his hands up as they chorused the same line simultaneously. “It looks the same as every other painting you've done--yeah, I know! I didn't really expect you to give me any useful advice. I just wanted you to listen to me.”

“Don't I always listen to you?”

“No--”

“Wasn't it me who suggested for you to go to that art gallery?”

“Yeah, but it's not like--it's not like you knew she was gonna show up! (F/N) being there only happened once in a blue moon. You were just lucky, so don't think you're a genius or anything, ha!”

Lutz scoffed, but his unimpressed expression quickly morphed into a shrewd one. “Accept it, liebling. You're down bad. Down astronomically. Just invite her over, and when she comes, you'll know what I mean. It's not the paintings you're making a fuss over.” He watched Luciano's hair spike up like a cat, then him light up like a Christmas tree. That little man was many things, but an honest person was not one of them.

“You think you're so smart, huh, cazzo?” Luciano pointed at him accusingly. “Well, I might just do it. Just to prove you wrong.”

When he left, Lutz clicked his tongue with raised brows.

“That's what you said last time...”

And invite you over he did. When he spotted a silhouette on the other side of the blurry glass, he sprung up from the couch and swung open the door with great gusto. There you were, as effortlessly charming as he remembered, and a little startled. You never had the chance to knock, nor process his scruffy appearance.

“Luci--hey! You look... A little more tired than I remember.”

Without a shred of hesitation, he grabbed your hand and pulled you to his bedroom. Yet again, his body was acting against his will, but perhaps, this was what he wanted in the first place. He just never admitted it. As he slowly came to terms with it, his eyes widened to dinner plates, and his heart pounded obnoxiously in his chest.

“Hey, what're you--”

He pointed wordlessly to the bed.

You shook your head, unable to figure out what he meant. “What do you want me to do?”

Luciano glowered at you, but it served as a stark contrast to the softness in his voice. “I'll pay you. As much as you want. Just stay there.” Seeing that you had yet to go along with his requests, he marched over to you and laid you down. Before you could object, he threw the blanket over you and tucked you in.

Sliding himself in from the other side, he scooted in and coiled his arms around your stomach. “Now, sleep.”

Breathing out a soft sigh, you rolled to him and brushed his mussy bangs back. “For someone so straightforward, you're not very honest, are you?” Sitting up to unzip your jacket, you proceeded to take your shirt off. When you stripped down, blood rushed to flush his cheeks as he came to realize he was completely love-struck.

“... Holy shit.”

Climbing onto his lap, you laughed over his lips and squeezed his neck. “You're really bad at hiding things. But like you said, I can read your mind.”

Luciano knitted his brows together. Then, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to your mouth. “And it's very invasive. Please stop it.”

“Only if you promise to pay me in the morning.”

“... You're not a prostitute.”

“Oh, but you are one too. We're all whores, if you think about it. We just sell different parts of ourselves.”

“Go to sleep, idiota.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

#hetalia fanfiction #hetalia fanfic #hetalia x reader #x reader #reader insert #xreader #2ptalia #2p! italy x reader #2pitaly #2p italy x reader #2p!italyxreader #2p hetalia #hetalia world series #aph #axis powers hetalia #request #ask answered #alfredosauce50

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who-ever-said-i-was-nice · 3 years

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Hi! I like your writing so much 🥰🥰🥰. How incredible they are! So, I have a resquest about how Napoleon, Mozart, Leo, Comte,Vincent, Will ( sorry if it is too much) react to a MC who is taller than them 😂😂😂 ( like her height is 185cm) and how they fall in love with her. Thank you so much ☺️☺️☺️

Ah girl. I'm sorry for taking so damn long. I am buried under so much work, but now I have a few minutes to spare so I decided to finish this for you. I hope you enjoy and It was worth your wait. Love you and thanks again.! Here is the part 2!

Napoleon

Napoleon was strolling around the mansion one evening. It had been a surprisingly good day. He want out with Isaac and taught the children, he sparred with Jean. It was fulfilling. He walked passed the Door, but when he got to the end of the corridor he heard something. He turned around and hurried back, only to find..nothing. He looked both ways and was ready to dismiss it, but then he heard a small sniffle come from behind an open door a little down the hall. He opened it to reveal a very beautiful girl. And she was so tall, which only added to her beauty.He, Napoleon, The nightmare of Europe, The emperor of France, felt like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. He quickly recomposed himself and glanced back to the woman who looked about ready to cry. He closed the door and took her hand. "Why are you hiding behind a door? Everything's alright you don't need to hide. And - he paused a little - please don't cry nunuche. He smiled at the woman and extended a hand.She took it without much hesitation. "Can I have your name?" he questioned, looking slightly up to gaze into her E/C colored eyes. " Y/n" she responded rather timidly and Napoleon felt his heart flutter. -------------------Time skip to two weeks in-----------------

Napoleon still felt an odd stirring feeling whenever Y/n was around. Fortunately he had now realized why. He had fallen in love with her. He wanted to tell her, he really did, but he couldn't figure out how. One cold winter night he plucked up the courage to tell you, which was a lot harder then he would have thought. He walked out into the garden looking for a very specific flower. Finally he found it. An Algerian Iris.

He picked it with careful hands and hurried to Y/n's room. He got there and swallowed hard before knocking on her door. Y/n opened it and stared down at the man. He cleared his throat. " Y/n, I know I haven't known you for too long, but I can't suppress these feeling anymore. Over the past month you have always been there for me. We laughed together, shared memories together and even made new ones. Your smile always lights up the world and no matter what happens I want you to remember, I love you." He smiled up at Y/n. Tears of happiness streamed down her face. He offered her the tiny flower. She held it with such gentleness, as if it could shatter at any moment. She then embraced her lover as she sobbed. Napoleon hugged her back, his face buried in her neck. He urged her to lean down a bit and he kissed her. She kissed back smiling into it.

Mozart

Mozart sat alone in his room. A thousand thoughts swirling in his mind, as he tried so desperately to perfect his new masterpiece. His skilled hands glided over the keys gracefully. Suddenly he was pulled out of his thoughts by the loud noises coming from the dining room. He got up. Annoyed at all of the residents for ruining his concentration. He walks out of the room in a hurry. When he makes it there, he turns the corner ready to throw an insult at them, however the words die in his throat as his eyes land on the tall figure standing in the middle of the room. He's baffled at how tall that woman was. He quickly composed himself and walked over to her. The closer he got, the more he noticed about her. The way her eyes sparkled as she talked to the residents, how she would bring her hand up to her mouth when she laughed, the sway of her hair, the way she shifted her way fro one long leg to the other. But most importantly, he noticed her eyes dart around a little when looking down, as if she was afraid of something. Mozart, however could not put his finger on it. He was soon spotted by the infamous flirt, Arthur. " Mozart! Our loved composer. Come over here don't be shy." he flashed his boyish grin and Mozart made a small noise of irritation, but cam up to her. " Hello, I am Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, composer" He looked up to find her eyes shining with excitement. "Hello! I'm Y/n. It's a pleasure to meat you! I love your music and..." She just kept going, rambling about how amazing he and his music was. Mozart will never admit it, but it warmed his frozen heart. As he watched her talk all he could think about was: ' You innocent, little lamb. Where you the one I was missing? I didn't even know I was missing something till now. Someday, somehow I will make you mine'

-------------------Time skip to two weeks in-----------------

Mozart was playing the piano, channeling all his anger into it. He missed a note and jumped up immediately. He was angry and sad, but worst of all he felt betrayed. He banged his fists against the wall as tears streamed down his face. He didn't want to cry. He fought with all his might. but the river just kept flowing. He could not have her, he could not. That was the truth. He heard a small knock on the door. He yelled an angry 'go away', but the door opened anyway. In stepped Y/n. When she spotted him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion and worry. She hurried over to his side and placed a delicate hand on his back. Mozart tried to trow a sarcastic comment her way, or at least push her or get her away from him, but he was rooted to the spot, crying his eyes out in front of this sweet, little lamb. " Wolf? What happened? Why do you cry?" her voice was cracking with worry and fear. Mozart lifted his head from the wall, but did not meat her eye. Instead he starred at the ceiling and spoke in and unusually quite voice. " That man...downtown. He had his arm around you....I didn't know you had a lover." He finally looked at her, only to find an expression of shock on her face. " You mean the man that walked up behind me, put his arm around me and attempted to flirt, only to get punched by Jean?" Now it was his turn to be surprised. However he could tell she spoke the truth. Had he watched a little longer he would have seen it all happen, but he was consumed by his emotions and as his anger turned to a forte, he could not look anymore. Everything slowed down. It was a peculiar feeling. It seem like all noise had been muffled and all the thing and events faded. She smiled. A soft, sweet smile. She reached up and gently whipped his tears. She found his jealousy a bit childish, but she knew that she loved him and she would have broken down too. She understood and so she could accept. Mozart's eyes softened as he gazed into her smiling eyes and basked in her tender touch. They both moved at the same time and met in the middle. It was a sweet and gentle kiss filled with love.

Leo

Leonardo da Vinci. The renaissance mastermind.That is what people called him, or so he had been informed by Sebastian. He always thought long and hard about that. He had invented and created a lot of things, yes, but he was not always certain he deserved that title. A nagging fear always crept up on him. Was he really that special? Was he worth it at all. After all, he faked his death. He lied to all those who adore him now. He did not deserve anything in his mind. And even if he did, he could not keep it forever. Time kills everything he loves. The people he cared for turned to dust in his hand and the hand on the clock just kept ticking. On and on and on. For eternity. He shivered and set the pocket-watch he had been fixing down. He needed some air. And a cigarillo. As he wandered the corridors he heard a bang coming from the direction of the magical door. Curious, he walked towards it only to find a simply ethereal woman standing and yanking at the doorknob. He walked up to her. " Can I help you Cara mia?" She spun around with a glare on her face looking ready to fight, but she relaxed when she saw that the man standing in front of her was not a threat.

-------------------Time skip to two weeks in-----------------

Over the course of the week, Leo found himself enjoying her company more and more. The truth was, that he had caught feeling for her. She had beautiful h/l h/c hair and e/c eyes that sparkled every time she talked about something she liked. Not to mention, she was tall. Really tall. Taller then him actually. And he loved that. He thought it was the most beautiful thing in the world. Whenever she wore her 21st century pants or skirts you could see her lovely long legs. However he tried to push these things away. He could not harbor feeling for a woman he knew he was going to loose. He could not control or tolerate the ace in his heart every time she would pass him by, or help him with something. Unfortunately, he knew that if he gave in he would hurt a thousand times more. It was 12 o'clock at night and he could not fall asleep. Well not that he was trying to hard. He got up and decided to walk around the mansion. As he passed Mozart's door he heart Y/n's small sobs. He stopped dead in his tracks and listened. He couldn't hear what she was saying, but he caught a few words. ".. Can't have him......doesn't love me....I'm too tall" Those words where like an electric shock to him. He could make out Mozart comforting you and another voice that he believed was Jean, but he couldn't concentrate. It felt as if the whole world caved in on him. He was selfish. He had chosen his comfort over your and now this was the price he had to pay. He should have known. The bill comes due. Always! He pulled himself together the best he could and knocked on the door. Everything went silent. Mozart opened the door, looking even more pale then usual. He was about to shut the door in his face when Y/n soft voice rang out. "Don't, it's alright. I will talk to him" Jean looked ready to protest, but he let her go anyway. The stood facing each other in the hall. Leo looking slightly up to meat her teary eyes. He reached up and wiped her face. He met her gaze once again and whispered: "I'm so sorry." He pulled her in and kissed her with everything he had. Pouring all the hurt, denial, pain and love he felt. She kissed back with just as much passion. Finally he had to pull away for air. He looked back at her again." Don't ever say, you are too tall, mia bella"

As you can see, it got really long. Idk if this is what you had in mind, but yeah. I will do the other half and maybe other residents too, because this was really fun. Once again thank you for your patience and have an amazing day/night.tags: @nad-zeta @dazaiswindow @blu-tigerr @jeanstan @ichigoamamiya @shookspearewrites @chaotic-coyote I ummm taggd you guys here, idk if you want me to tag you again next time or you want me to stop, ummmm tell me i don't really know how this works so if this is not how I'm supposed to do it, tell me. I appreciate it😅

#ikemen vampire #cybird ikemen #ikemen vampire leonardo #ikemen vampire mozart #ikemen vampire napoleon #asks #i am kind of confussed #like when the hell did it get this long #bruh

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sharktoothedboys · 3 years

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Heavily Tattooed Girlfriend

I love this idea because I myself am a heavily tattooed female and I think we need more representation in the head cannon world!!

This is my second time typing this up because tumblr deleted it as I was finishing typing Todoroki’s and he was the last one! furious!!

For future reference when i take head cannon requests i will be doing them for up to 4 characters, so please keep that in mind if you wish to request anything!

This head cannon will be with Shoto, Katsuki and Izuku!

Anyway lets go!! (Again)

IZUKU MIDORIYA!

Please, this man baby would absolutely adore them! They are what makes you, you and he has memorised every single one, lets not pretend he hasn’t

stares at them all the time and isn’t subtle about it at all

loves to ask about them and hear the stories

You sighed heavily as you finally walked in to the front door of the apartment that you shared with Izuku, a more content sigh as you closed the door behind you finally putting the long hard day to rest, being a pro hero was no walk in the park and today was just more proof to that statement.

You, happily took your shoes off and headed towards the bathroom to shower, grateful that Izuku was not home yet as you stank and were covered in dirt and filth from fighting a villain with a soil quirk, just what you wanted.

However, he wasn’t far behind you, stepping in to the apartment as you stepped in to the shower, he heard the water start to flow as he removed his shoes, smirking he headed to the bathroom to join you, why waste water, right?

He stopped in the doorway to the bathroom as he took in your beautifully painted skin, he watched the patterns dance as you moved, He adores your tattoos, and he loved to tell everyone who would listen all about them and his inked up princess, He could talk about them for hours, he was so proud that you were proud of who you were. As much as he liked to talk about them to others he loved to listen to you tell him all about them and the meanings behind them, not that they all had a deep and meaningful story, but some did and he loved to listen to you tell him as he watched you run your hands over the art work that was on your body, he smirked to himself as he imagined kissing the work that adorned your spine and found himself lost in staring at you. Until you spoke and broke the spell.

“Are you joining me, or are you just going to stare at me all night?” You asked a smile plastered on your face and you look at him over you shoulder.

“Probably both.” He replied as he stepped onto the bathroom removing his clothes to join you.

Damn, he was lucky.

KATSUKI BAKUGO

He absolutely is obsessed with them, loves how they make you look like such a badass!

Pe4ople sometimes whisper wondering if you are in the yakuza, he doesn’t tell them you aren’t...

His favourite ones are the ones only he gets to see.

Another night, another stupid event he was obliged to attend as the current number 2 hero, But you also had tonight off, so tonight was definitely not going to be as bad as he had thought it to be.

You looked stunning, you were in a long line low cut black satin dress with a slit up the left leg to your hip, with silver chains dancing along your bare back that attached to either side of the garment. You were a little dubious of wearing it at first as it was a formal event and it showed off a lot of your body work and you didn’t want to embarrass Katsuki, but he quickly made all your insecurities fade by telling you, you could never embarrass him.

You were just pulling up to the venue in the chauffeur driven car, Katsuki took your hand and you looked at him as he gave you a reassuring smile, these events always made you super nervous. He took in your nervous face and his eyes drifted down you arms, your beautifully decorated arms that he couldn’t get enough of. The car had stopped and you had to pull him from his own staring as you asked if he was ready to go. He nodded and guided you out of the car with ease, his hand immediately wrapping around your waist as you both emerged from the vehicle.

Camera flashes almost blinded you straight away, shouts to look here and there could be heard, and then you heard the horribkle comment come from somewhere,

“Dynamight! can we get one with just you? It doesn’t look good for the number 2 to be seen with a gang member wannabe, and her tattoos will make people not want to buy our material!”

You hung your head down low, you knew this dress was a mistake, you began to step the side when a strong hand grabbed yours.

“No.” Katsuki replied sternly. “Its both of us or neither of us, you dirty rotten extra.” He said, in a surprising calm manner. he took your hand and lead you back to the car, you guys got in and left the event.

“I hope you don’t take any notice of what that no body said, you are beautiful, your body is a temple, so what if you wanna decorate the walls a little?”

You smiled at his comment and sweetly kissed him as he asked the driver to take you to the nearest cafe, and that’s how you ended up spending your evening all dolled up in a coffee shop.

SHOTO TODOROKI

Loved every single new tattoo you came home with, as never surpised when you came home with a new one

loves to trace them while you lay together

his favourite is the half ice half fire heart you had done for him

He stepped in to the apartment, silence. Which was strange, it had been your day off and he expected you to either be cooking up a storm, or lost in your 76th game of Mario kart. But neither of those things were happening, He could see a dim light coming from your shared bedroom so he headed that way, probably napping, is what he thought as he made his way to you. But that theory was out the window when he heard faint sniffles and quiet sobs, his walk quickly turned into a run to get to you.

He threw the door open, his hands in a defensive stance in case of danger, but no, he found you snuggled up with a cushion to your chest, quietly crying in to it.

“(Y/N)?” He quietly asked, prompting you to shoot your head up from the cushion, “What’s the matter peanut?”

You smiled at his cute pet name for you that he had used since 1A, “Nothing, Sho, I promise I am ok.”

“Well that’s a lie” he smirked “Tell me please.

He made his way over to the bed and got in beside you as he opened his arms for you to fall in to his chest. You happily obliged. Snuggling into him tightly, he wrapped his large arms around you.

“Now tell me what has you so upset.”

“I went to the shops today, for some snacks, i was feeling snacky. A little girl recognised me as Data and got really excited and ran over to me, leaving her m other behind, She was speaking to me and asking me for my autograph when he mother let out a scream and began to insult me and telling me to get away from her daughter, saying i couldn’t be a pro because no self respecting agency would take on a yakuza lookalike, then she dragged her daughter away from me.”

Shoto stiffened up at the story, mad at how someone could be so rude, but also at how anyone dared to question your heroism.

“Well she needs to get an education in some manners.” he started, as he began to trace along the outline of your tattoos, his favourite thing to do. “She also needs to find out a little something about art, because she clearly doesn’t know a masterpiece when she sees one.”

You grinned at his comment and instantly felt much more at ease in his arms as he lightly touched your tattoos.

“Don’t listen to anyone like that peanut, they are all ignorant and blind to the beauty of you and your artwork, you are stunning and i love you just the way you are. He said kindly as he kissed your head gently. He felt you nod, if he ever ran in to that woman he was going to freeze her and make her get a face tattoo.

THERE WE GO HOPE YOU ENJOYED IT AS MUCH AS I ENJOYED WRITING IT!!!

PLEASE LIKE IF YOU WOULD BE SOME KIND, I’LL LOVE YOU FOREVER!

#head cannon #my hero academia #my hero academia head cannon #mha #mha headcannon #katsuki bakugo #shoto todoroki #izuku midoriya #fluff #scenario #tattooed girl #tattooed female

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wellhellotragic · 3 years

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These Wounds Won't Seem to Heal 1/2

Summary: It’s not her fault. She’s still new and doesn’t know. He’s not flawless. Not anymore. He’s got scars, ones she’s seen first hand. Ones she helped tend to. His body is covered in them. There’s a thin red line where he took a bottle to the face during his early beat cop days. There’s another angry red mark on his torso from where he was stabbed with a knife in his ribs. The one where he had his hand slammed in a locker as a teenager has long since faded, only the barest hint remaining, only visible in just the right lighting.

There’s two oval scars now too. One in his stomach and one on his chest. Those are from the worst day of her life.But none of those scars compare to the ones he carries on the inside. The self-inflicted cuts he makes to his soul never quite healing over. He blames himself. It’s not his fault.

There’s a scar on her soul now too. One he left. A piece of her heart forever missing.

Rating: Mature (mostly for language)

A/N: I'm a day late but hopefully not a dollar short. Happy birthday to @searchingwardrobes. This woman has the most generous heart and I hope she knows how much she is loved and appreciated by all of us! If AO3 is more your jam...

She’s been listening to Annie drone on for the better part of their lunch break. The girl is sweet, she really is, but she talks. A lot. So much so that Emma started to tune her out sometime between finishing her chips and opening her brownie. She nods her head in what she hopes are all the right places. But when she hears Killian’s name, Annie has her full attention again.

“I wonder what he’s like in bed.” It’s said with the longing sigh of a high school girl with her first crush and Emma has to physically hit her chest to dislodge the bite of brownie she just choked on. “Have you and he ever...”

The sentence drops off but Emma knows exactly what Annie is getting at. Have she and Killian ever slept together. The answer is no, despite half of the station house being 100% sure they have before. Past tense. No one thinks it’s happening anymore.

“No.” Her voice catches and she hopes that the woman doesn’t pick up on it.

“Well he’s a goddamn masterpiece. I mean, just look at those arms!” Emma is well aware of how toned his arms are. She used to be intimately familiar with them. "I can only imagine how cut he is under that uniform. Like a flawless Greek God.”

It’s not her fault. She’s still new and doesn’t know. He’s not flawless. Not anymore. He’s got scars, ones she’s seen first hand. Ones she helped tend to. His body is covered in them. There’s a thin red line where he took a bottle to the face during his early beat cop days. There’s another angry red mark on his torso from where he was stabbed with a knife in his ribs. The one where he had his hand slammed in a locker as a teenager has long since faded, only the barest hint remaining, only visible in just the right lighting.

There’s two oval scars now too. One in his stomach and one on his chest. Those are from the worst day of her life.

But none of those scars compare to the ones he carries on the inside. The self-inflicted cuts he makes to his soul never quite healing over. He blames himself. It’s not his fault. Liam was always so headstrong and there was no way Killian could have talked him out of confronting the guy.

Sometimes she still has nightmares. She sees the gun raise in slow motion but she’s frozen. In her dreams the bullets get her too and she falls to the ground right next to Killian. She watches helplessly as he tells her that he loves her, and then he’s gone and all she can do is wait for her turn. That’s when she wakes up gasping for air, clutching her chest.

That’s not what really happened. But the truth almost feels worse. She heard him yelling for backup over the radio. Heard the officer down call and then nothing. The speaker went silent. She and Boothe raced there, sirens blaring, red lights run. They were the next on scene.

Liam was already gone. Boothe told her that, but at the time, her only focus was on Killian. There was so much blood and it was all she could do to keep it together enough to keep pressure on both of his wounds. Boothe tried to help, but she wouldn’t let him. She couldn’t bring herself to let Killian go, so instead she screamed at him to get away. That she had it.

She heard the ambulance coming, but it was still blocks away and Killian was fading. She pleaded with him to hold on. To stay with her. To stay for her. But he was tired and she knew he’d given up. When he told her that he loved her, that he’d always loved her and he was sorry that he never told her before, she knew it was a goodbye.

He lived by some miracle. The doctors couldn’t even explain it, but he didn’t come back whole. He changed after that. Those fleeting glances, the flirtations and innuendo, the easy physical affection all gone now. He’s shut her out. He’s shut out the world and whatever chance they once had is now long gone. She’s never stopped loving him, never will stop, despite him being lost to her now.

There’s a scar on her soul now too. One he left. A piece of her heart forever missing.

He’s a Captain now, a dream that came at the expense of his brother’s life. One that he resents to his very core. He puts on a mask, but she can see it when he doesn’t know she’s looking. When he’s in his office with the blinds only partially drawn. The way his barely visible hands ball into fists. It’s a nervous habit, one she noticed for the first time when they were studying for the detectives exam.

He’s been clenching the armrest of the couch for the better part of twenty minutes, and while it didn’t bother her at first, realizing that he’s now starting to leave marks in her favorite sofa may be the final straw in an otherwise frustrating night. He knows all of the answers, more than her and he’s still stressed about failing, when it’s become painfully obvious that she’s the only one that should be worried.

It’s not that she hasn’t studied, she’s just not great with standardized testing. She over thinks everything and starts contemplating of all of the unnamed variables that could affect the answer, and how is she supposed to know if the drop of red paint is significant? Are they in an industrial warehouse or in the middle of a grassy park? Are they sure it’s paint and not blood splatter? How is she supposed to answer without knowing the facts?

He’s told her twice tonight to get out of her own head, to focus on her gut, that it’s never lied to her before, but it’s easier said than done, especially when she hasn’t been able to convince him of the same damn thing.

“Killian, you’ve got this. Why are you so worked up?”

He takes a deep breath and she can see a storm brewing behind his eyes. He’s rarely like this. So serious and stoic.

“It’s not,” he pauses, thinking over his words. He’s also rarely at a lose for those too. “Swan, I’m not worried that I’m going to fail the test. It’s more that I’m worried I won’t live up to expectations.”

“What expectations? Everyone up at the station loves you, lord knows why, but they do.”

She shoots him a wink, hoping that he realises the teasing for what it is, but the sad lift in his lips he gives back shows that her attempt at cheering him up has fallen flat.

“Liam wasn’t just top of his class in the academy, and he’s not just the fastest promoted officer in recent history. He’s always been the best at everything, and he’s one of only three people in the history of the Boston PD to get a perfect score on his detective’s exam. He’s set this bar and it’s so high that I’m scared I’ll never live up to it.”

She’s up and off the floor before she knows it, at his side, grabbing one of his clenched fists.

“Hey, you have to stop trying to compare everything you do to how Liam would do it. You aren’t the same person. Liam, he’s, well, he’s a little self righteous if you ask me.” He tries to interject, and she knows he’s about to defend his brother, but she won’t let him. “No, he is. And I get it. You two had it rough and he had to grow up too fast. But Killian, it’s okay that he’s so formal and by the books and that you aren’t.”

He’s eyes are fixed on hers, and she can still see the doubt, the fear of failure he lives with daily. He’s usually better at hiding it, but sometimes when it’s just the two of them, he lets the mask slip. He’ll let her in, just in the rare moments that he needs her support to fight away the self doubt.

“And just between us, of the two Jones brothers, yours is the company I prefer.”

She can hear him take a hard swallow just as she closes her eyes, letting her body move forward. Letting her feel his lips against hers, unresponsive, but only for a moment before he’s moving in tandem with her.

The kiss isn’t long. It’s happened a handful of times before, usually when one of them was drunk or had just made a big bust. And it never went beyond that. It’s never gone beyond that, and even though sometimes she fantasizes about what it would be like to be with him, to really be with him, she’s not sure she can take the risk that she's wrong about him. She’s been burned before, and can’t lose Killian that way too.

She thinks he understands, that he feels the same way since he’s never tried anything more.

They break apart and without hesitation, she moves back to her spot on the carpet next to the coffee table to grab her book.

“Just making you take your own advice to get out of your head for a minute.” She winks at him again and this time there’s an audible chuckle.

He got a perfect score on that exam, just like his brother before him. She did well enough to promote not long after him. She got assigned to homicide while he got his dream job in the narcotics division one floor up.

It was strange at first, not seeing him everyday on patrol, instead only getting glimpses of him on the elevator or in the lobby in the morning. Having to schedule drinks at the Salty Wench a couple of nights a week, which eventually became a once a month thing. It was okay though. Both of them were excelling in their careers. She got partnered with August within a month of becoming a detective, something she still thinks was likely a PR stunt from media relations. Something to boost the PD image. The two of them, the posterboard for troubled teens now respected law enforcement professionals. What a glowup story.

“And what pray tell are we talking about over here ladies?”

August wastes no time in pulling up a chair to their little table in the back corner of the breakroom. Emma’s always admired him that; the ease he has in any situation with any group of people. He’s always been confident in a carefree way. Guess that’s a win for nature over nurture.

“Oh, not much. Just the renasonician piece of artwork that is Captain Jones.”

“Whoa. That’s a big negative ghost writer. That pattern is completely full.”

Emma doubt’s that Annie understands the reference, but the point is made as Annie’s face falls.

“So he’s taken then?”

“No, I wouldn’t say that taken is necessarily the word for it. He’s just not into dating any of the lovely ladies right now. Hasn’t been for awhile.” She appreciates the way August keeps things casual. Taking the emotional boulder from Emma’s shoulders onto his own. “But, I can give credit where credit is due.”

There’s a moment, just after Annie notices the way August is taking in Killian’s form as he leans against a beam, reading a file while he waits for his lunch to finish warming up. Emma can see the exact second that it finally dawns on her. That August Boothe has a type that neither of them fit.

“Wait!” It’s almost a screech and Emma has to move her hand in front of her face to hide in embarrassment. “Is he? Are you two, you know?”

He’s about to make a quip, something that will leave Annie guessing for days, but she can’t do that. Can’t let the rumor mill stir up anymore about Killian than it already has.

“Please, he couldn’t handle it. Even on a bad day Boothe here is way out of Killian’s league.”

“Damn straight!”

She and August don’t even have to look at each other to give the perfect high five. It’s just muscle memory at this point.

August does make another quip, one about how the new DA is more to his standards and how he’d catalogue his evidence any day. It’s a stupid joke but it makes them all laugh. She doesn’t even think, the amusement slipping from somewhere deep inside her.

She usually tries not to call attention to herself when Killian is around, preferring to blend into the background like a wallflower. But this time she’s caught off guard, and between the three of them, they’ve made a scene. She stops, but it’s too late. Even without looking up she can feel his eyes on her, can feel the contempt he has for her even just being in his presence.

She doesn’t know how to fix it. The thing that broke between them. She’s not even sure what she did wrong. But it’s done, whatever it was, and there’s no mending it.

He grabs his tupperware out of the microwave, not even letting the timer finish and throws it away in the trash can next to the counter, and without so much as a word, only the tensing of his jaw, he’s gone.

It stays the same, day in and day out, week after week, month after month. She does her best to avoid him, and he her. Her assignments usually come by way of Lance, the poor middle man trying to keep the peace. Her case reports move through Lance as well. The only congratulations she and August ever get for closing some of their tougher cases comes from the lieutenant, or from their colleges. Never from the Captain.

It’s Emma’s birthday, or what she celebrates as her birthday. It’s a little hard to tell considering the way she was left on the side of the road. The way that anyone in the foster care system that might have known never bothered to keep up with the paperwork.

But it’s okay, because she’s got August, and he’s been there for almost every birthday since she was six years old, when they both lived with Ingrid. She still remembers that first cake, she’d never had a birthday party before, and even without having any real friends to invite over, Ingrid had made it so special, just the three of them.

She’s got friends now though. More than she ever thought possible. And she’s got August, singing along to Smooth Criminal with a childrens reverberating microphone that he bought just for that very purpose. She’s laughing harder than she has in months, the tequila in her veins helping her to relax for a change.

“Emma, are you okay? Are you okay, Emma?”

He’s not a horrible singer, but he’s not the best. Neither is Ruby from the forensics lab either, but the sound of cheers around her from most of the 56th precinct is music to her ears.

She’s so engrossed in Ruby’s encore of Hit Me Baby One More Time that she doesn’t even notice Killian standing in the doorway, but August does.

“Oi!” Emma realises too late what’s happening and is powerless to stop it. The mockery in August’s voice. “Look at this cheeky bloke here coming to get pissed with us mates!”

There’s cheers from the crowd, and now there’s no way Killian can just leave unseen. She also knows there’s likely going to be a massive pile of grunt work on her desk first thing in the morning as retribution.

“Captain!”

“I uh, I can’t stay. Just wanted to drop by and wish you all well.”

He’s waving them off, and Emma just prays that August knows well enough to let it go, but he’s had too much to drink to think clearly. His inhibitions are lowered, and long gone is his ability to think clearly.

“Bollocks! Come have a cuppa with us,” August continues, raising his nearly empty beer bottle, “in Emma’s honor.”

She can see the smugness forming on August’s face as he challenges Killian. It’s only matched but the sneer Killian shoots him in return.

Killian doesn’t say anything, just walks to the bar and orders a drink. She knows what’s inside the glass the bartender is handing him. She knows that it won’t be the only drink he orders that night.

Things mostly go back to normal. Everyone mingles amongst themselves, and as the night goes on, she assumes that August’s little outburst earlier was the worst of it. But August hasn’t stopped drinking, and a drunk August has awful judgement.

It’s almost midnight, and she should be leaving, knowing that all of the aspirin in the world isn’t going to save them from having to be at work in the morning. She’s trying to leave actually, but Ruby and Annie convince her to stay for just a few more minutes.

It’s one minute too long. Especially when August stands up near the bar, calling for everyone to be silent so he can give a speech. Considering that he’s probably way past the legal limit, the speech is actually impressive and emotionally moving. He knows her better than anyone after all.

It’s the perfect ending to the night, except that it isn’t. Because August has no plans of letting her leave without some words of encouragement from their mentor, Captain Jones. Killain declines, warning him that he’s drunk and should go home. August won’t let it go though.

“Seriously man, what’s your problem?”

“Boothe, you’re inebriated and you need to think carefully about what you say next.”

Emma grabs August’s arm, trying to drag him out of the pub, but he won’t budge.

“No, no. You’re right, I am inebriated. And what’s that saying? A drunk man’s words are a sober man's thoughts?”

“Boothe.” It’s a growled out warning. Killian’s never been a fan of August, even in the early days, and Emma knows that he’s been looking for any chance to put the man in his place.

“So here’s the thing. Both drunk me and sober me want to know what your deal is. What the hell crawled up your ass? Is it because she wouldn’t sleep with you, so now you’re punishing her?”

“Patrol duty, one week.” Killian’s malcontent is evident in every word he yells, and now the entire pub is silent, watching the carnage taking place.

And there’s nothing Emma can do to stop August’s arm from pulling away and decking Killian clear across the jaw.

There’s just silence, and the hissing sound August makes as he shakes his hand out.

“That’s it. You're suspended indefinitely.”

She hears Killian mumble the word prink under his breath as he makes his way to the door, and she’s torn about what to do. But when Archie hands her a bag of ice, the choice is made for her, and she goes after Killian.

Maybe it’s the tequila making her brave, or maybe it’s making her stupid, but she just needs to know what she did to make him hate her so much. She’s tortured herself, going through every interaction they had at the hospital. Trying to dissect every word, but she has nothing. No explanation for what could have happened between him confessing his love for her and then forbidding her to go to Liam’s funeral.

“Killian!” She has to jog to catch up to where he’s standing on the corner trying to hail a cab. “Here. Take this.”

She tries to hand him the bag of ice, but he won’t meet her gaze.

“Go back inside, Emma.”

Emma. He’s never called her that before and its stings for some reason. She turns, but the last shot if tequila is still kicking in, and she needs to know, and as horrible as August’s approach was, it’s the first real opportunity she’s had to be alone with him. Choosing to stand her ground for once, she turns back to him.

“Look, I know that this probably wasn’t the best way to approach this, but I think I deserve to at least know what I did. What was so horrible that you can’t even stand the sight of me anymore?”

“Go back inside, Emma.”

It stings just as much the second time, and gives Emma the fight inside of her that she needs.

“No. I don’t get it. I don’t understand. Please, just help me understand it.” She’s got tears forming in her eyes from the anger of it all, and he’s still just so damn dismissive. “You don’t get it do you? I saved your life and somehow I still lost you that night!”

“I was scared I was dying. I didn’t mean it. God, don’t you understand? I never loved you. You’ve just been clinging to me all of these years, this sad little orphan and I felt guilty, like I had to say it!” There’s so much spite in his voice.

“You told me you loved me. I was there, covered in your blood, fighting for you, for us, and you told me you loved me. You don’t get to just take it back.”

She hasn’t seen him in the better part of a year. It was only supposed to be a six month assignment, he promised her, but eleven months later, he’s still undercover. Liam won’t tell her anything, and even if he would, the chances are that he doesn’t know much either. Somewhere around month seven Killian stopped checking in regularly. He was paranoid that they were on to him and didn’t want anyone to see him with his handler.

The only reason she even knows that he’s still alive is from security footage at the docks where a deal had gone down about a week before. All of the men were in masks, and anyone else reviewing the tape probably would have missed it, the barest hint of a tattoo sticking out from just under his left wrist sleeve. From the camera angle, it looks like the tip of a dagger, but it’s a point, one of eight. She knows the meaning behind it too, a compass that he got etched into his skin on his eighteenth birthday. Something to always remind him of where he’s been and where he was going.

To keep him always moving forward in life. Aside from letting down Liam, Killian’s biggest fear has always been turning out like his dad, a poor, unfortunate soul. A lost boy who never grew up into a man worthy of his children’s respect.

It’s hard. Knowing that he’s out there, only being able to imagine what he’s going through. If he’ll still be ‘him’ when he comes back, not letting herself wonder ‘if’ he’ll come back. They’ve both seen what can happen when someone goes too deep, how they come back fractured. A part of them left behind, the humanity shed away, sloughed off to make room for their new toughened skin. Peter went too deep and came back in a bodybag, courtesy of a bullet from her gun.

He promised her he wouldn’t lose himself though, that he’d come back to her. That he was a survivor.

But then again, he’d always promised her he wouldn’t go undercover without talking to her first, and he’d broken that promise, volunteering without much prompting, only telling her as he was leaving the station for the last time. The truth was that they’d grown apart in the year before he left. Their careers pulling them in different directions, and she wasn’t sure how well she knew him anymore. Of course, she’d also never expected him to develop a romantic relationship with a heroin king’s sister, but she’d seen evidence photos of the girl sitting on Killian’s lap, so what did she know.

There’s a commotion coming from down the hallway near the bullpen, and Emma doesn’t want to be around people, not like this. Not when it’s taking everything she has not to let the tears welling in her eyes fall, not to scream and punch the wall. Trying so hard to hold herself together when she’s barely hanging on.

She takes a right, ducking into an evidence room, closing the door behind her. She walks to a table, lets her hands grasp the edges, the cold metal against her skin helping to anchor her to reality. She takes a few deep breaths, the air burning her lungs in a way that reminds her she’s still here. She has to accept it. He’s gone, and she’s just going to have to learn to live with that fact.

Except he’s not gone. Her eyes go wide at the sound of his voice behind her, not even realizing that someone had slipped into the room with her.

“Swan.”

It’s soft, like he’s testing the sound of it on his tongue.

“Killian?”

He’s standing toe to toe with her in a flash, his arms going around her, one hand tangled in her hair. It’s suffocating almost, how hard he’s pressing her against his chest, but she doesn’t care. Not when he smells of leather and salt air. Not when he’s there with her just like he promised.

“How are you here?”

He leans back and there’s something in his eyes that she’s never seen before. A fire burning behind the icy blue. He opens his mouth, but before he can say anything, the door to the evidence room is thrown open and Emma can hear the proud bellow of his brother. Liam tells him to come to the bullpen, and Killian tries to object, but Liam won’t hear of it.

“I, we’ll talk later, ya?”

She nods, wrapping both of her arms around her torso keeping away the chill that’s entered the room, the way she feels the distance growing between them already.

They never talk about it though.

There’s something in his eyes that she’s never seen before. A haunting. Shadows filling in the recesses of his soul. And he’s encroaching on her space, making her feel like a small empty shell of herself.

“Killian, please. Stop it.”

“Liam was right you know. You’re nothing more than a pretty blonde distraction.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because, I want to hurt you, like you hurt me.”

He gets into his cab, driving off and leaving her alone on the sidewalk. It’s ironic, the way she’s ending her birthday just as she started her life. Completely alone and unwanted. But it gives her peace in a way. It’s a form of closure. The true end of what they had. She now knows that it’s over. That chapter of her life. She’s ready to finally close the book altogether.

Her legs carry her into her precinct, she doesn’t even bother with the elevator, taking the stairs instead. Just taking it all in. It’s been her home for years. She’s spent more time there than she has at her own apartment. She knows every dent in every way, all the uneven floor planks. She knows that there’s going to be food left out on Leroy’s desk, and that the only thing that will be on Arthur’s desk is an excalibur shaped letter opener that he uses as a fork more often than not. And she knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her desk will have someone new sitting at it before anyone else realizes that she’s gone.

She fills out the form, leaving it as ambiguous and impersonal as possible. It isn’t until she’s signing her name that she hears someone else walk into the bullpen.

“I thought it was your big birthday. What are you up here instead of celebrating with everyone?”

She looks up to find Lance standing behind her.

“And I thought you would be at home with those cute kids of yours.”

“I forgot my phone.”

It’s peaceful, this small moment shared between them in a dimly lit room.

He sees the form, and by the way his face drops, she feels like she’s disappointed him in some way.

“It’s our loss.” There’s something in the way he says it, and she knows he's talking about more than just the precinct transfer order she’s filled out. “May I?”

Emma hands him the pen he’s gestured to and watches as he signs the approval line. He hugs her before he leaves to rejoin his family. The calm feeling he left stays though, even after it’s just her there again, even when she steps into Killian’s office to set the form on his desk. There’s a picture of him with Liam on the desk. She picks it up, letting her fingers brush over Killian’s form, only the barest hint of her shoulder still showing from where he’d cropped her out.

Closure.

#captain swan ff #captain swan fanfiction #captain swan #wellhellotragic #Happy Birthday Mel!!!

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wackatoshi · 4 years

Text

winter’s fanfic recs

last updated: 5 July 2020

ok so you want good fanfics?? emotional rollercoasters?? gut wrenching angst?? toe curling fluff??? well listen I have you covered. keeping this pinned (maybe) and ill try update whenever i can!

listen i consume so much fanfiction per day it tends to all get blurred in my head, plus life lol. so these fics are truly standouts because they resonated that much with me that i have reread them countless times, and will continue to do so!!!

below the cut are links to the fic and some brief comments where i tried to encapsulate as much as I could, as concisely as possible LMAO but it was really hard okay

anyone who follows me knows i am Rain’s Biggest Fan lMAOOOO so it comes as no surprise that i recommend everything by @/revasserium

but here are a handful...that, you know, if the world ended and all the libraries burnt to crisps and the internet emptied itself...these r the ones i’d salvage:

found among the ruins - kageyama x reader all time favourite, nothing will change this from being my #1. this has lines you won’t forget!! fantastic historical references just woven into this story, ties in amazingly with kageyama like. damn. “when they lose to seijoh, he doesn’t cry” is just such an iconic line, it randomly comes back at me and i HAVE to go and reread this. brilliant. brilliant. brilliant.

universal truths - kageyama x reader ok this fic is barely a day old and it’s pinned on my blog so go and read it now. just read the author’s note at the beginning and tell me you’re not immediately enticed lmao. i can't say anymore about this bc words just don’t do it justice so just read rain’s tags:

and tell me this isn’t poetry

love as dead as one of the languages - oikawa x reader (assassin au) LIKE...THIS IS NOT A STORY THIS IS A WHOLE MOVIE. oikawa n iwaizumi duo as assassins and yes it’s just as sexy as u think. perfect undertones of angst, oikawa angst by rain is the Best thing ever. man read this so you can talk to me about it, im obsessed w spy aus and this comes rlly close

so this is how summer ends - oikawa x reader

first paragraph in this is probably singlehandedly the most phenomenal metaphor i have ever come across. it just sets the tone for the story incredibly well and i have no words, this really, really, really hurt me but i Always come back to it, because there’s a hopeful part of me that thinks it might be different each time lMAO

hate - tsukki x reader this is AWESOME. the pacing of this fic is just to die for, you’ll know what i mean when you read. the cold open, but then the way it just develops throughout the story and you finally get the full picture - phew. absolutely a masterpiece, yet again, and it’s so so perfect. don’t be shy read it

stolen kisses - sakusa x reader imsidjakjdha this is awesome, great reading of sakusa, so fluffy and adorable and toe curlingly sweet. i love this, really adore this and it’ll make you feel so much better if you’re having a bad day, trust me on this. fricking adorable

those who make sandcastles - kakashi x reader

so I’ve never watched naruto ever lmao (except two episodes rain generously linked me which...I still never recovered from) but this is so so unspeakably beautiful to me. I don’t think you understand...like from a person who didn’t know who this guy was, god reading this was a raw experience and I just. it’s gorgeous please talk to me about this fic. I’m sure it’ll hit way different when u actually know his character. but omg I just. 😭 so many gorgeous lines in this fic in PARTICULAR I am never gonna be over this one

next we have the iconic @/bleedinqhearts and you’ve probably come across her work at some point or another, so good!!!! well i have more to show you!!!!!!!

what we owe to each other - oikawa x reader (spy au) THIS is the fic that inspired me to write no sound like silence lmao so go and read this one bc it’s infinitely more superb and snappy and WOW. it honestly takes a lot for me to EVER reread fanfics, but this one is One i easily, easily come back to because it’s so addictively well-written. the cliffhanger at the beginning tho ooooffff ;)

we were thieves - kuroo x reader (heist?au) one of the most criminally underrated fics if i’m honest!! so great so great, kuroo is just OOOF in this like, just WAIT til he comes in. honestly sad this is the only part but hey there’s just so much description that you can easily insert this as ur emotional support daydream and enjoy ur own spin-off in ur head

with time - ushijima x reader yeah like, this has 1000+ notes for GOOD reason. fricking amazing, absolutely tore me apart but the ending is so endearing, so sweet, you’ll probably shed a couple tears. ushijima being a big oaf is all i live for and UGH this will literally make you squeal, it is SO helplessly adorable and sweet and i just want to be in love so bad

ok next writer is @/xuyue who you all know i Stan. just go and read all of her works please i beg of you, she’s got some incredible lines and fricking gorgeous pacing, i feel like im on cloud nine with every one of her fics. but you ALL know which one my favourite is:

asteria - yamaguchi x reader I WILL GO TO THE GRAVE WITH THIS FIC I SWEAR ITS AMAZING...i fell head over heels in love with yamaguchi after reading this lmao like wow. and the last line will haunt you forever and ever...just go to the reblogs of this fic and you’ll see the trail of my comments and delirious ramblings lmao

between us - iwaizumi x reader (historical au)

HI LMAO THIS SERIES WILL ABSOLUTELY RUIN YOU ITS THE FRIKCIRHH BEST historical aus have NEVER been done better yue clearly put in a ton of effort to research this and FIRCK Japanese edo period just...comes to LIFE before your eyes like GOD...but this fic encapsulates forbidden love, mutual pining but 100x angstier, and I think you’ll just be overwhelmed by a sense of hopelessness all the way through. goddd iwaizumi is just SO noble in this and part 6 will fricking obliterate you also please read if it’s you which is oikawa x reader (historical au) ahahaah ahaha

ok ok. are u ready for the kicker coz yes its the amazing @/krystallisert my blog is currently named after two of her fics because i am but a Shrine to god tier writing. so check out the link in my description box (god who am i) and browse throughhhh <3 NOT my masterlist do NOT interact

da capo - oikawa x reader x iwaizumi (soulmate au, unrequited love) THE FACT WE STANNED THIS SO HARD THAT NIGHT LMAOAOOA I LOVE IT. i even have a tag for this fic, that’s how bad it got me. honestly my hands are shaking as i type this bc i really don't know how to explain how incredible this fic is..how much it means to me. i CRIED so hard, i screamed and cursed like this GOT me. i said it once before, but this story EVOLVES before your eyes - each chapter is in a new perspective and you collect all these new details, you see things in a new light, and iwaizumi’s chapter will properly break your heart...but also oikawa’s chapter shook me to the core n i really LOVE the characterisation here.

bitter/sweet - ushijima x reader (fake dating au, billionaire au) uMMMMM THE FACT I ALSO HAVE A TAG FOR THIS WHY DIDNT ANY OF YALL MESSAGE ME ABOUT THIS ??? i had a TIME reading this fic. i had the best time of my life. god when you find people who can write ushijima it’s the best fricking thing ever. like...he is so amazing in this oh my god. this fic in particular brings the characters and the scenes to LIFE. it just feels so real, so tangible, and you...you just know what i mean if you read it ok. i was blushing all throughout this fic, tingles up my spine...the LOT

highways: in defiance - oikawa x reader (dystopian au)

oh my god. ok I am really not coherent right now as I type this bc my emotions have seriously been sucked dry...THIS fic is absolutely stunning. please read it. the relationship building is so gorgeously executed, you will fall in love with ever-observant, rebellious oikawa, he is just a DREAM in this. I am so in love oh my gosh it’s so beautiful, I love them, I’m in love, it hurt in a lot of places but the ending will just make you so soft for the universe 🥺

highways: in colour - akaashi x reader (dystopian au)

HEY THIS FIC BROKE ME LMAOOOO GODDDD this is the first instalment of the highways series that I read and yeah it’s GORGEOUS. the language is so vivid and colourful, you’ve got smuggler/painter akaashi vibes whose creativity has been repressed because of this totalitarian regime, and this secret lil relationship is just doomed from the start but it makes you hope, so desperately, it just makes you hope and hope and hope because that’s what dystopian stories are all about right? the ending will BREAK you

a new addition bc this writer is so brilliant, so big-brained, I am genuinely in love with everything she’s ever written MUAH I LOVE @/wander-lu5t

underwater — ushijima x reader

this basically follows canon post timeskip so WOW it’s amazing and so beautiful. a long fic but seriously not to be missed, every chapter is so engaging and beautiful and you will just feel so so so much. the characterisation is absolutely impeccable!!! I love it so much...I have so many feelings...ahhhh

into the new world - atsumu x reader, ushijima x reader, kita x reader (soulmate au)

HAHAHAHA FRICK THIS SERIES IS ACTUALLY JUTST BLOODY INCREDIBLE WOULD PAY FOR A WHOLE BOOK FILLED WITH EVERY CHARACTER FROM HQ IN THIS SETTING!!! so it’s a three part series featuring diff characters in which reader is thrown into a new world and meets her soulmate, discovering their name is written somewhere on their body. it’s just amazing. I do not know which one is my favourite truly. they’re all so incredibly good in their own right and of course the characterisation is amazing. to summarise the way I feel:

atsumu: HILARIOUS. you will be laughing from start to end, I swear. he is such a drama baby but it’s so funny lmao. the dynamics are seriously to die for, everything is just brilliant!!! if you need a pick me up, read this!! and the ending is just AGHHH IT TIES THE FIC TOGETHER IN SUCH A LOVELY MANNER

ushijima: THIS WAS SOOO INTERESTING OMG. reader is low key so dodgy LMAO we love to see that scoundrel energy contrast against prim and perfect ushijima. another gorgeous one, there’s one line in here that especially broke my heart and you will know which one it is. sigh...OH AND TENDOU IN THIS LMAO

kita: ok this is possibly my favourite one of the three...I’m so??!?! it’s especially magical ahhh and romantic, you will swoon so much. if you want to feel particularly swept off your feet, kita’s your man, and this fic is the one for you. I am so in love with him after this LMAO like to an unhealthy degree. I just want to move into the countryside on a farm and live my best life with that man <3 and his grandma LMAO

here’s a RANDOM RANDOM rec bc it’s not haikyuu, it’s star wars, it’s reylo aka one of the most controversial ships in the world yes, i know -

crossroads trilogy - reylo YEPPP this series absolutely ruined me and it will ruin you too. the plot in this is like crazy good and the fact it was written pre-the last jedi always kinda freaks me out bc of how many parallels it had to the movie. wow. yeah i should reread this bc it was absolutely incredible

in conclusion please go and tell your favourite writers that you enjoyed what they wrote! it’s a simple gesture of appreciation & it really does mean a lot, so don’t forget to say thank you!! they work hard ya know!!

#fanfic recs #fanfiction #honestly this was done very poorly by me but i don't want you to get bogged down by my fluctuating emotions #just read the damn fics ok and come into my arms as we sob together #all of u #im so floored by this writing and it just inspires me so so so much but #mostly just makes me rlly appreciative #these fics in particular are just gonna stay w me forever...#stannable fics

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dreamescapeswriting · 4 years

Text

The Night Tour ~ KNJ [Request]

↬↬↬Word Count: 2K

↬↬↬Genre: Fluffy!!! Non!Idol Au, Street artist Reader! Museum worker Namjoon

↬↬↬Pairing: Namjoon x Gender Neutral Reader

Namjoon walked down the streets with his glasses on, he'd heard that the famous unknown street artist was out again and he was dying to get a glimpse of their work again. He'd slipped into a hoodie, jeans and put on his thick-rimmed glasses, he wanted to be ready to see the work that was bound to be amazing just like the rest. He had been walking around the streets for hours trying to find out where the artist would hit but it always changed whenever they did something, the last time it was an abandoned factory floor and Namjoon had just missed the artist. The paint cans were thrown to the side and the paint dripping wet so the artists couldn't have been far. His head spun around when he heard the familiar sound of a spray paint tin hitting the floor, he thought it could have been them but it was just kids spraying on the side of a dumpster. The first time he'd ever seen some of the artist's work was when he was walking home from a night shift at the museum he worked in.

The museum he worked in was four floors high, it was just an art museum where he took night shifts patrolling the corridors to make sure nothing was ever stolen he had hoped the night work would eventually lead onto the day work but it hadn't happened. So he spent most of his night walking around the museum and taking note on everything he saw, learning everything he could on each piece that was there. So much so in fact that he could probably give the guided tours with his eyes closed taking people around there.

"See you tomorrow Namjoon," The day guard said as Namjoon walked out of the back entrance and into the alleyway of the museum where he was shoved against the wall quickly as someone in a hoodie raced past him,

"Hey! Watch it!" He yelled out at the person when he was pushed against the wall again by two policemen who were racing after the first one.

"Sorry, sir!" He shook his head at the officer that had apologised and began his slow walk home towards his apartment in the middle of town but that was when he noticed it, a giant spray-painting across one of the walls of a building in the alleyway. It was beautiful, the painting was telling a huge story about global warming and what it was doing to everyone around them.

"Whoa." He ran his hand over the paint when he felt how wet it was, whoever the police were chasing must have been the artist that had created this masterpiece. He took a step back to admire it, even more, when he noticed the tag along the side of it,

'Zee'

He took a photo of it on his phone before searching for the tag online, there had to be someone else who had seen this artwork before and as he walked he dove deeper into the artist.

"An unknown street artist who goes by the name Zee, are they ruining property or just spreading a message?" He whispered to himself as he walked up to his apartment building and opened the door, he held it open for an elderly lady who thanked him before leaving. He clicked on images scrolling through to thousands of posts from people all sharing what amazing work that artist had done, it was incredible. Whoever Zee was, took things that were happening within the world and painted them onto the side of buildings, tracks and billboards so that people would finally come to their senses.

"Who are you?" He whispered seeing the same black hoodie that had sprinted past him in the alley, people had caught glimpses of Zee before but never their full face. No one knew who they were or what they looked like. It was clear Zee wanted their identity to be hidden for a reason - mostly because of the cops Namjoon thought but this only intrigued him more as he continued scrolling for hours. Learning everything he could about their art style and being captivated by each masterpiece that could be found.

As he was about to give up on finding Zee when he heard sirens and someone yelled out a string of curse words before dropping something against the stone floor, his head snapped around to see the same black hoodie as before racing towards him only down the opposite side was four policemen.

"Here!" You frowned hearing someone calling out to you, a guy who stood around 5''11 dressed in a hoodie and blue jeans was grabbing onto your wrist and pushing you against a wall,

"Get off me!" You screamed wiggling against his grasp when he stood in front of you and titled his head to the side, he ripped down your hood and smirked.

"Hi Zee," You groaned at him when you heard police rushing down behind him,

"Excuse me," Namjoon turned to face them and you froze thinking that this was it, it was finally the moment you were about to get caught after all the years of work you'd done.

"Yes, officer?" His hand linked with yours and automatically your heart began to pound against your chest, looking up at his sharp jawline and taking in his appearance. It was only now you were realising how good looking he was, his hair was blonde and to the side, he had huge glasses on that made his big brown eyes look adorable.

"Have you seen someone rush by here? They would have been carrying paint with them?" You swallowed the lump in your throat trying to hide your paint covered hands behind Namjoon who pulled you closer and chuckled.

"Sorry officer, I was a little preoccupied with my partner." The officer nodded before bidding you goodbye and going back towards the alleyway exit.

"You covered for me...Why?" You pulled your hand away from him not wanting to give in to the fact that just because he was incredibly good looking he could touch you like that.

"I find your work to be great Zee, always wanted to meet you." You nodded at him slowly and held out your hand for him to shake,

"I'm Namjoon." He shook your hand and you felt that same intense spark from before rush through your body, sending shivers up and down your spine as he looked down into your eyes.

"Y-Y/n." You stuttered out, you'd never told anyone your real name before. Sure fans had met you but you never told them who you were, it took away the allure to your work but with Namjoon it was different. The longer he stared into your eyes the longer you wanted to tell him everything about your life, as if he had some kind of weird superpower that drew you into him.

"What got you into street art?" You laughed softly as he questioned you, heading straight in for the questions but instead of being creeped out by the sudden interest it made you smile and feel warm inside.

"W-well I-" You didn't know, you just viewed it as art and a way of sending a message,

"I'd tried as a normal artist for years...Canvas's, photograph and stuff but it just never took off...Street art was a way of vocalising myself and what's happening in the world." Without even realising you were now walking together and towards the work you'd just done, it wasn't finished because the police had shown up,

"I think your work is amazing." You smiled at him and began walking together towards your car,

"I feel like I've seen you before." You mumbled as you reached a parking lot, you always parked in the same one next to the museum and he chuckled.

"You pushed me against a wall a couple of months ago...Completely my fault I'd just walked out of work." You stared over at where he was pointing at the museum,

"You work there?!" He nodded his head at you frowning as to why you seemed so excited about it,

"I love it there! I used to go all the time as a kid!" You yelled excitedly checking the time to see if you had time to head inside but it was getting close to their closing time, you never had time to go anymore. Between painting and work it had been hard to fit fun stuff into your life,

"Damn it."

"What?" He asked he hated that your smile had faded into a frown,

"It's closing soon, I just- I wanted to go." You sighed leaning against your car and staring at it, he could already tell you were disappointed in not getting to go.

"Meet me there tonight? In two hours? I'll sneak you in and we can have a night tour together." You stared at him with wide eyes, was he serious.

"Like a date?" You whispered looking him in the eyes and biting down on your lip, it had been years since anyone had even come close to asking you out and your heart was thumping against your chest.

"Yeah...Yeah I mean if that's okay." He stuttered out looking at you with a giant smile on his face to match the one that was now painted across yours.

"A night tour sounds perfect," You leant up taking charge of the situation and kissed his cheek,

"I'll see you later Namjoon." You whispered before getting into your car and driving away from him while he sat there smiling wildly.

"This is my favourite," You watched as Namjoon raced over to a painting of a huge garden full of couples. He went into a lengthy talk about what the painting was about and who had painted it, he had done it throughout the whole night and you smiled the whole time just listening in 'awe' as he spoke lovingly about every single thing within the museum,

"You should be giving the tours," You whispered when he returned back to your side, you took his hand in yours as you turned around one of the corners and walked towards some sculptures. You were almost done with everything inside of the museum and it had taken the whole night to get around everything because he would go into length talks. You didn't care though, spending all of this time with him made you feel special.

"What's this?" You asked walking over to a rope and he chuckled just shaking his head,

"Just a rope," You titled your head to the side and pulled it, it drew open the curtains that were on the skylight right above you and you gasped looking up to see a clear night sky with the stars and moon right in front of you.

"Whoa." You whispered

"Looks like something you would paint." Namjoon chuckled looking up at the sky before down at you, you were busy staring into the sky you hadn't felt his eyes on you.

"W-What?" You stuttered out looking back into his eyes when he cupped your chin between his index finger and his thumb tilting your head up to look at him in the eyes before he began leaning down, your eyes fluttered shut as our lips came into contact with one another. Your arms moved around his neck while his wrapped around your waist, drawing you closer to him and kissing you softly under the starlight night. It felt like something that only ever happened in books and movies, the whole world seemed to brighten up the moment he kissed you and you.

"Whoa," You whispered pulling apart from him and staring into his eyes, that was when there was small laughter coming from the other side of the room. You both pulled apart to see someone covered in tattoos with long black hair standing there,

"Jungkook-" Namjoon when to complain but Jungkook held up his hand and shook his head,

"You enjoy your date, I'll go back downstairs and main the first floor." Jungkook laughed leaving you both there embarrassed that you had just been caught in a makeout session.

"Friend of yours?" You laughed softly pulling back and holding his hand, he nodded.

"Yeah...He works here on the bottom floor. I'm sorry-"

"Don't be, you can make it up to me later...On another date?" You questioned looking into his eyes and praying that he said yes,

"I'd love to."

Tagline:

@writingdreamsnottragedies @snowy-meowl @jooniesdarlingdimples @lynnthevirgo @lyoongx @mitzwinchester @fan-ati--c @rjsmochii @callingmyangel @kneel-begyourpardon @taestannie @innersooya

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heycallmeladytypewriter · 3 years

Text

The Call of A Siren - Chap. 5

Chapter One / Two / Three / Four

A/N: I’d like to thank seenalready for agreeing to be my beta! It’s been a huge help. Also, thank you to those who not only took the time to read but to favorite, follow, review, or leave me a message on this story!

I don’t own My Hero Academia. I only own my own characters and the story I create within Horikoshi’s masterpiece of a world I’d love to live in.

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“So how’s school going, Cordelia?” Her father asked while passing her the mashed potatoes. She smiled as she plopped some on her plate. “It’s going fine. Just some normal start of the year stuff.”

Her mother was cutting her baby brother’s food into small pieces across from her. “Make any new friends? You didn’t have any last year.” Delia ignored that small barb. Her mother was Miss Popularity when she was in school - something she was reminded of constantly in these small sweet ways.

“Yes, mom. No official friends yet but definitely some classmates I seem to get along with fine.”

“Give her time, Amaya. She’ll make friends but make sure not to forget to focus on your studies. Bells always get top marks in school. Right, Cordelia?” Her father is ever the peacemaker between them but always manages to slip in his opinion in the same sentence. She hoped neither of them noticed how tense she became, because despite going ahead with her plan of secretly attending U.A she still hated lying. She was good at it but hated it. She distracted herself and took herself out of the conversation by wiping the gravy off of Henry’s mouth who just painted more on with every uncoordinated bite.

Later in her room, she made sure all her U.A stuff was hidden because her parents, especially her mother, who didn’t believe her children were entitled to privacy. She would deny it until she was blue in the face even when Delia confronted her with obvious evidence. Delia would find some things moved or pockets left unzipped that were closed when she left for school or a run so now she just made sure anything she didn’t want discovered to be hidden. She had hiding places in between her mattress and bed frame, one in a loose floorboard by her dresser, a notebook taped behind her desk, in her suitcase in the back of her closet, and it goes on. Her mom wasn’t too creative in looking but Delia didn’t want to take any chances. She changed into pink leggings and an old Mayday Parade t-shirt and went for her usual run to the beach.

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Shake it out, shake it out

Shake it out, shake it out, ooh whoa

And it's hard to dance with a devil on your back

So shake him off, oh whoa

'Cause I am done with my graceless heart

So tonight I'm gonna cut it out and then restart

'Cause I like to keep my issues strong

It's always darkest before the dawn

Delia laid on her back in the grass to catch her breath as she ran an extra mile on the sand today before running back. Once again, she was grateful to have a park like this near home to gather herself before returning home.

She had her eyes closed as she listened to Florence and the Machine but opened them when a shadow came over her. Angry Boy stood over her and his mouth was moving but because of how loud her headphones were she couldn’t hear what he was saying. She rolled her eyes and closed them again as she felt no need to listen to his rant during her peaceful time.

Her left earbud was roughly yanked out of her ear. “I was talking to you, dumbass!”

She rubbed her ear and glared up at him. “So? Since when do I have to listen to you?”

“Move out of my spot.”

“Uh, yeah no.”

“Move before I make you.”

“Try it, Big Tits.” She raised her eyebrow at him in challenge because she knew damn well he couldn’t use his Quirk here without getting in trouble. It was far more noticeable than hers which she would definitely use if he tried to physically move her. Knowing this, he growled and stomped over to his workout bag a few feet over. He picked it up and then threw it on the ground practically on top of her legs. “Fine, brat. If you won’t move, I’m working out right here still.”

Delia was going to push it further, but her watch beeped signaling she should start heading back home. “Saved by the bell, jerk.” Pushing herself up onto her feet, she kicked his bag off her leg and brushed off some grass on her shorts.

“Yeah, fucking sure brat. I’m saved.” Delia rolled her eyes and walked away a few steps before stopping and turning back towards him, unable to help herself from asking.

“Why did you do that?”

He was already doing sit-ups in the spot she had just vacated. “Because you were in my spot, idiot.”

“No. Not that. Battle training.” Bakugo slowed to a stop for a moment and then continued like she hadn’t said anything.

She tried again. “Was it worth it?”

No answer again but he picked up the pace on his sit-ups. Delia hummed, “Thought so.” She went to turn away when he finally spoke up, “I kicked that weakling’s ass. Its always worth it to put Deku in his fucking place.” He wouldn’t make eye contact with her. Delia pursed her lips and turned away finally. Before she went out of hearing distance she said one last thing, “You didn’t put him in his place. It seems more like you were shown yours. It wasn’t as high as you thought it was, was it?”

___________________________________________________________

As she jogged back home on the trail, she could feel those red eyes trying to burn a hole in her back.

As she walked up the hill to U.A, she was fiddling with her stupid tie when she heard a lot of voices. Looking up from what she was doing, Delia saw a mini army of reporters covering the entrance of the school.

“Oh, crap!” Delia started to panic as she realized she had to go through them to get inside. She grabbed some sunglasses from her bag and took her hair out of her usual braid and tried to cover her face. They were jumping on students as soon as they got close, but Delia wasn’t having that.

“Hey, kid!” Someone put their hand on her shoulder. Nope nope nope! Shaking them off, she passed Uraraka and Iida getting questioned and walked even faster. A few other reporters tried to get her attention, but she was not risking getting caught on her second week of school by her mother seeing her on the morning news.

Mr. Aizawa was in the front of all the reporters to stand guard and crossed his arms as a particularly aggressive woman demanded All Might. Delia was safe now on school grounds but didn’t dare to take her glasses off or fix her hair until she was in the building. Out of curiosity, she peeked through her hair to see Mr. Aizawa finally walking away and an aggressive reporter took a step too far only for these giant alarms to start throwing up walls all around the school. Ha, serves you right, Delia thought a bit smugly.

She finally fixed her hair into a braid when their homeroom teacher walked in and called them to attention. He ruffled some papers and then addressed the class on their performances from last week’s combat training with All Might. “Decent work on last week’s combat training, you guys. Due to technical difficulties, I wasn’t able to review the video feeds until yesterday. I went over every team's results. Bakugo. You’re talented. So don’t sulk like a child about your loss, okay?” Delia fought to keep her face straight as she was seated in front where Mr. Aizawa could easily reprimand her if she didn’t. “ And Midoriya. I see the only way you won the match was by messing up your arm again. Work harder. And don’t give me that excuse that you don’t have control because it’s already getting old.”

He called out a few other students with some advice before she heard, “Bell. I see you have the ability to think and react quickly as shown in your battle, but you have a long way to go with understanding your Quirk. That is basic and essential. You need to work on that as of last week.”

She nodded, “Yes, sir.”

When he finished, Mr. Aizawa switched gears to something a little more mundane. “You all need to pick a class representative.”

Kirishima stood up with his hands in the air, “Pick me, guys! I wanna be class rep!”

Kaminari raised his hand, “I’ll take it.” Jiro followed suit with her hand up as well, “Yeah, you’re gonna need me.” Ashido and Aoyama threw their hats in the ring too. Bakugo even started yelling behind her to be elected. Delia, despite knowing what a big deal it would be, just sunk further in her seat wanting no part of it.

“Silence, everyone, please!” Iida grabbed everyone’s attention to tell them the responsibilities of class rep when she decided who better for this job than Mr. Responsibility and Lecture himself? She was sure he’d thrive at the job as he already organized how they would choose and simultaneously advocated for himself.

She snorted when Aizawa basically told them to figure it out before his nap was over and curled up in his weird yellow sleeping bag on the floor. Despite how strict he was, Delia loved how weird their teacher was.

After everyone handed Iida their small pieces of paper with their vote written, he quickly and very neatly wrote the results with his shoulders slumping along the way.

Izuku Midoriya - 3

Momo Yaoyorozu - 2

Well, that was unexpected and immediately questioned by even Midoriya himself. Who exclaimed, “How did I get three votes?”

She turned in her seat when Angry boy slammed his hands on his desk, “Okay, you idiots, who voted for him?” Delia raised her eyebrow at him, “You mean instead of you?”

“What, did you honestly think anyone was gonna vote for you?” Sero said. She barked out a laugh at that and put her hand up in a high five. Sero returned the gesture while Bakugo fumed even more.

“What did you idiots say?!”

“Hey, Bell!” Delia’s head snapped up from her tray and saw Uraraka waving at her from a table. “Come and sit with us!”

“Thanks, guys. What’s up?” She greeted as she sat down next to Midoriya.

“Hi, Bell. We were just talking about how Midoriya would be a great class rep. His courage and quick thinking will help make him a worthy leader. Not to mention the strength you’ve demonstrated. Those are the reasons I voted for you, at least.” Iida explained before taking the next bite of his lunch.

She nodded. “Oh, for sure. You’ll be great.”

Uraraka looked puzzled. “Iida, didn’t you want to be rep really badly? I mean you look the part cause of the glasses!”

“ Well, that's not exactly how you should base things.” Delia jokes, pointing her fork at the small brunette. She just shrugged in response and grabbed another ball of white rice.

“Wanting a job and being suited to it are quite different things. Observing the Iida family’s hero agency has taught me that much.”

“Right there. That’s why I voted for you.” Delia pointed her pork at him before shoving the deliciousness in her mouth. Ugh, I’d go to this school for the food alone.

Iida had his mouth open as he stared at her, “You were my one vote?”

She smiled at him, “Well, yeah! You seem perfect for the job to me based on everything I’ve seen so far.” Her eyes widened when she remembered who she was sitting next to and waved her hands at the boy, “No offense, Midoriya! You’ll be great at it as I said.” He waved her off before turning his attention back to Iida.

Taking a few more bites, she heard her phone chirp in her pocket. She pulled it out to see that her mother had texted her.

Mom: Cordelia, we are having dinner with Josephine this Friday at 7. Make arrangements to pick up Henry from the babysitter’s house. I’ll write the address on the fridge.

She rolled her eyes but sent back a quick ‘okay’ that she will pick him up. Whenever her sister was free, they ran to her side to devote all attention to their favorite child. It probably helped that their favorite child encouraged it every chance she got which irritated Delia to no end.

Brrrrrrriiiiiinnnnggggggg.

She was pulled out of her thoughts as the bell went off abruptly.

“Warning. Level Three security breach. All students please evacuate the building in an orderly fashion.”

Orderly fashion, my ass! Everyone was soon swept into a massive mob of pushing and shoving which Delia did not care for.

“Ow! Goddamn watch those elbows dude!” She held her side and then was shoved against the window next to Iida. “Oh seriously! Iida look out the window!”

“Who would dare try and - it's the press that was outside!” He immediately tried to yell to everyone which proved useless. She heard Kaminari and Kirishima trying to calm the herd as well, but that wasn’t working either. “Iida we have to tell everyone that it’s just the stupid media!” Delia yelled to him as her face was smushed up against the glass.

“I have an idea, Bell. I need Uraraka! Will you be okay?”

“Go and stop this, and then I’ll be fine!” She used her free hand and helped shove him forward to their poor classmate who was getting dragged away by the frenzy. Her braid was then yanked which caused her to smack her forehead against the glass again. Freaking jesus! Calm the fuck down people! C’mon Iida!

She managed to get her head up in time to see Iida flip thirty times in the air then smack into the wall above the exit sign. Ouch.

“Listen up, everything is okay!” With that, everyone stopped pushing and looked up at the guy balancing on an exit sign. “It’s just the media outside. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about. Everything’s fine! We’re UA students. We need to remain calm and prove that we’re the best of the best.”

Within the next half hour, the police pushed back the reporters and the teachers came inside to corral them back to class. Delia clapped a hand on Iida’s back who blushed a bit when she said, “That’s why I voted for you.”

__________________________________________________________

In a strange turn of events, Midoriya had stepped down as their elected class rep and nominated Iida in his place. Something that made Delia grin when he walked up to the podium with barely concealed pride and immediately went into his responsibilities. She especially liked that he sent a nod her way with a small smile before strutting back to his seat.

“Now that’s out of the way.” Aizawa rose from the corner where he was attempting a short nap and slipped out of his sleeping bag. “We can head to the training room for Combat class. Everyone change into your gym clothes and meet me in ten minutes.”

A few minutes later, Delia sat on the floor next to Jiro and Tsu stretching. Aizawa was already setting up a row of punching bags while they waited for the rest of the class to trickle in from the locker rooms.

“Yo, whassup girls?” Jiro, Tsu, and Delia turned to see Kirishima and Kaminari heading over to them on the mat. They plopped down next to them. “Hey, guys. Ready for training?” Delia asked as she turned to Jiro with hands outstretched. Jiro caught on to what she wanted and had her feet meet hers and grabbed onto one another's arms then pulled back to stretch Delia’s back.

“Oh, we’re ready. So pumped to finally get into real hero stuff!” Kirishima pumped his fist in the air with excitement.

“It’s a bummer that it’s a non-quirk class though. I was feeling extra juiced today!”

“This is even more manly in a way, Kaminari! Real combat without quirks can be a whole ‘nother level of seeing what you’re made of!” He said to the blonde who shrugged in response.

Delia slowly pulled back to stretch Jiro and laughed at the boys, “I agree. You don’t need a quirk to punch someone in the face which can be just as great as electrocuting them.”

The class was finally assembled and facing their teacher who stood over them with a small tablet in hand. “Alright, class. As you know this is our Non-Quirk Combat Class which is self-explanatory so if you weren’t aware of that already you shouldn’t be in my class anymore. Now, we are going to start with basics to see where everyone stands before we up the ante. Grab a spot in front of a bag, and we will be doing basic 1-2 punches until I say stop.” Aizawa quickly demonstrated what he meant with the correct form and then shooed them towards the bags he had set up earlier.

Delia grabbed a bag in between Midoriya and Todoroki who was already hitting the bag with perfect form. Seems like he’s done this before. She curled her hands as Aizawa showed them and hit the bag. Huh. She side-eyed Todoroki before trying again. It felt awkward at first but once she found a rhythm...Man this feels great! Her knuckles were beginning to hurt as she hit as hard as she could but she sort of liked it. The past week and a half had been stressing her out and running was usually her only outlet, but she was finding this was a great way as well.

“Midoriya, turn your back foot a bit more. Good.” She heard her teacher making the rounds as the class hit the bags non-stop. “Good, Bell and Todoroki. Keep it up.” Delia practically glowed and hit the bag with even more energy than before.

Through the first half of the class, they were shown punches, kicks, and then some fighting moves when they were joined by Ectoplasm. He demonstrated some defensive and offensive maneuvers before the class was split into partners to practice for the remainder of class.

Delia was paired with Kaminari which was fine as she had nothing against the good-natured albeit immature guy, but the moves involved getting physical with your partner. She had played twister as a kid but not for some time and never held hands with a guy much less threw her whole body at them. Oh my god, you prude. Get over it. She chided herself.

Kaminari gave a confidant smile and squared up to her, “Don’t worry, cutie. I’ll take it easy on ya.”

Delia raised an eyebrow at him, “You’ll take it easy on me? How kind of you.” Okay, nerves have left the building and have been replaced by a mini super pro feminist ready to hand him his ass.

Their teachers had them go through the motions one step at a time collectively as a class before they were given the go ahead to let loose. As soon as Ectoplasm gave the green light, Delia felt a bit more solid with her moves and was ready to try in real time especially since Kaminari hadn’t lost his smirk. “Ready, babe?”

“Let’s go, Sparky.” Ectoplasm hit a buzzer and Kaminari swung at her almost immediately, but she grabbed his wrist and pulled towards her. Before he could react, she used the momentum of pulling him to knee him in the stomach (reminding herself to not use full strength as this was training). While he was coughing, she swept her leg under his causing him to fall on his back.

“Did I take it easy enough? Cutie?” Delia stood over him grinning. Kaminari held a hand on his stomach and grimaced. “Okay, point taken.”

Delia huffed a laugh and held her hand out to him which he grabbed tentatively like she was going to hit him again. Pulling the blonde up, she felt someone’s eyes on her. Bakugo was standing coolly across the room with his hands in his pockets while Sero got himself off the ground. He looked away when he saw her looking back at him. Hmm.

Bakugo:

He would never admit it, but he was impressed on how quickly the brat took down the blonde idiot. However, he also would never admit that he was watching her in the first place as his eyes slid over to her laughing with her partner as she helped him off the ground. Katsuki chalked it up to pure convenience of sight as he had laid out the guy he was fighting in about five seconds, and she was in his direct line of vision. Since the park, what she had said unsettled him. Katsuki couldn’t get it out of his head and hated that she got under his skin and then walked the fuck away with the last word.

As if she could sense him, the brat turned towards him curiously. Shit.

Katsuki looked back down at his partner who was now getting off the floor and rolled his eyes. Tch. I didn’t hit him that hard. Fucking wimp.

“Hit the lockers. You’re done today.” Aizawa announced. Ectoplasm had left already. “Remember to make sure you do the assigned reading and grab the extra worksheets on my desk before leaving for home. We are skipping Ethics tomorrow for a longer class activity.”

A longer Quirk Training Combat Class, he meant. His eyes flitted to stupid Deku who was flapping his arms at some round face girl and then over to the brat who was walking back to the girls locker room. He was ready for his next combat class despite what the annoying girl said. He was going to be number one and damn anyone who got in his way of that.

He pushed the locker room door hard enough that the purple dumbass who was walking before him flew forward across the room but Katsuki was too in his head to bother looking where he landed. He kept seeing those stupid blue eyes looking at him, judging and unimpressed. He shook his head as if to shake the image out of his head. I don’t need anyone's damn approval.

#bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo fic #bakugou x oc #bnha fanfiction #mha fanfiction #mha smut #class 1-a x reader #tcoas #mha x oc

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lonelier-version-of-you · 3 years

Text

Thoughts on Long Lost that no one asked for, but I’m sharing them anyway

Or, In Which Annie Pretends To Be A Music Critic Because Why Not. I wrote these up as I listened to the album, so they’re my first impressions (except for Not Dead Yet, Mine Forever, and Long Lost, which I’d already heard).

The Moon Doesn’t Mind: An interesting little song, but there’s not much to say about it given it’s only 1 minute and 10 seconds long. I like it. I wish it was longer.

Rating: 7/10.

Favourite lyrics: N/A, because it’s too short to pick any, lol.

Mine Forever: This song was a banger when they put it out as a single, and it’s a banger now. I LOVE it. Songs about unhealthy, obsessive love are like, my favourite thing.

Also, not to bring my favourite unhealthy pairing of two fictional queer neurodivergent middle-aged doctors from a semi-obscure medical soap opera into this, but this song is still incredibly Johnrik vibes.

Rating: 10/10.

Favourite lyrics: “Love is strange, I can’t sleep without you / maybe in the grave I can dream about you / Everybody lies, but I’ll never doubt you / I don’t wanna die, but I can’t live without you”

(One Helluva Performer): A fun vocal interlude track. Not much to be said for it.

N/A for both rating and favourite lyrics.

Love Me Like You Used To: The moment the lyrics started, I immediately decided I loved this song. It’s great. If there’s any justice in the world, they’ll put it out as a single and it’ll go mainstream.

It’s also vaguely Johnrik vibes, though not as much as Mine Forever.

Rating: 8/10.

Favourite lyrics: “I’ve been lost before / and I’m lost again, I guess / but I never lost this feeling / or this pounding in my chest / I have travelled many miles, I don’t want to walk no more / every road and every highway led me right back to your door”

Meet Me In The City: The title immediately brings to mind Strange Trails’ ‘Meet Me In The Woods’, so I was very intrigued to hear what this song was going to be like. I like it. I think it’ll take me a few listens to fully appreciate it, but I like it.

I like the Strange Trails callback - “put on the dress you wore the night we met”.

And the reveal in the second verse that the narrator and his lover are actually having an affair was very clever. I love LH’s way of telling stories through their songs.

Rating: 7/10.

Favourite lyrics: “Forget the life you had and don’t look back / Get your courage up and drink this down / If our love is so wrong / tell me, why does it feel so right?”

This is getting a bit long now, so I’ll put the rest of my thoughts under the ‘keep reading’ button...

(Sing For Us Tonight): Such a brief interlude I have no opinion on it.

Long Lost: I wasn’t a big fan of this song when they released it as a single - I didn’t hate it, but it didn’t do much for me. In the context of the album, though, it’s fantastic! I can see why they picked it as the title track now.

Also, more Strange Trails callbacks - “out in the night all alone in the way out there...”

Rating: 9/10.

Favourite lyrics: “For a while I was held in the myth of the lost highway / In the spell of the night and the lights of the great white way”, and “Send me to the mountains / let me go free forever”.

Twenty Long Years: A melancholy song about the perils of addiction, and another example of Ben Schneider’s gift for storytelling. Just an absolutely brilliant song. I love it.

And I love the outro, with the crowd singing the song. It really adds to the atmosphere of the album.

Rating: 10/10.

Favourite lyrics: “I destroyed my health searching for myself / but there ain’t nothing there to find”, “I made a life out of chasing a ghost / twenty years takes its toll”.

Drops in the Lake: I thought from the title that this would be Johnrik vibes. I was not disappointed. I fucking love this song, oh my god. It’s perfect. It has me lost for words.

Rating: 10/10.

Favourite lyrics: Can I say the whole song? But especially “I go down to the edge of the lake / where I wait through the night for the dawn light to break / Memories of old crash like waves on the shore of my mind / And I pray that the stars will align / I just want us to be like we were long ago”, and “I look up at the uncaring sky / with a prayer on my lips and a tear in my eye”.

Where Did The Time Go: Another short but sweet song. It’s good.

Rating: 7/10.

Favourite lyrics: “May you laugh and sing your life full / may you learn the reasons why / may you live until you die”.

Not Dead Yet: This song got me hyped up for the album when they released it as a single in February, and I still love it now. It’s just so good, catchy, and danceable. I hope I get to go to another LH concert soon (I saw them in 2018, it was fantastic) just so I can rock out to this there. It’s one of those songs of theirs that feels downright magical.

Rating: 8/10. It’s just a damn good song.

Favourite lyrics: “There’s a stranger in my eyes again / I swear to God I don’t know him”.

(Deep Down Inside Ya): Another vocal interlude to add to the atmosphere of the album. It works for its purpose.

I Lied: I know they released this one as a single, but I’m only just now listening to it for the first time, because having already heard NDY, MF, and LL, I decided I could wait to hear this one. I think I made the right choice – it really works with the rest of the album. It’s a beautiful and bittersweet song, with some more great storytelling.

I love the idea of this song – a relationship where both partners are falling out of love, but they think the other one still loves them, until eventually one partner gives up and leaves, thinking they’ll be breaking the other’s heart… only for the other partner to be relieved the relationship is finally over. Good god, it’s like the definition of bittersweet. I love it. I’m a sucker for a good tragic love story.

Rating: 9.5/10.

Favourite lyrics: “I told you I’d be coming back again for you but I’m not / I’m going way out where the world will never find me / I made a claim that I would dance until we’re bones with my bride / I told you I would never leave you all alone, but I lied”

At Sea: Another shorter song. It’s pretty good, I like it. Gives me Lonesome Dreams vibes (as in the album, not necessarily the specific song). Indeed, you could easily read it as being from the POV of the narrator in Ghost of the Shore.

Rating: 7/10.

Favourite lyrics: N/A. It’s too short for me to pick any.

What Do It Mean: This sounds like a perfect mix of Lonesome Dreams, Strange Trails, and Vide Noir. It feels like a mix of all three albums, too, in terms of the themes. I am in love with it. It’s beautiful, and the lyrics resonate with me a lot. It might actually be my new favourite Lord Huron song ever – and that’s saying something, because it’s very hard for anything to overtake ‘Hurricane (Johnnie’s Theme)’, ‘Moonbeam’, or ‘The Balancer’s Eye’ for me.

Rating: 11/10.

Favourite lyrics: The entire first verse. “So much to say, but my words mean nothing / A life spent talking when my epitaph would do / Wasting my days with my mind on the future / And my past like a chain that won’t ever let me go / Where would I go, and would a lone soul miss me? / If I leave in the night, I’ll only be running / With the weight of the world at the tips of my fingers / A long lost soul in the wilderness alone”

Time’s Blur: LH’s longest song ever – and I’m pretty sure it’s their first wholly instrumental piece, too. Sonically, it reminds me a lot of the songs on Vide Noir. It’s a gorgeous piece of music. Gives me chills. The first few and last few minutes especially just feel downright otherworldly, and I mean that as a compliment.

Rating: 10/10.

Overall, I give Long Lost a 10/10. It’s a masterpiece, just like the rest of LH’s albums. Lord Huron are geniuses and I will die protecting their vision. (Kudos to you if you get what that’s a reference to, lol.)

#Lord Huron

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psychedellic-phase · 4 years

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Fifteen (pt 9)

A/N: it’s reader backstory time! This part also includes season 6 spoilers :) xx

word count: 4.0k

tw: mentions of violence, abuse, cursing, other criminal minds stuff!

masterlist:

The beginning of letter #8 was scribbled out, like you’d written but decided the words weren’t quite right. Spencer tried to look through the black ink lines to see what you wrote, but most of it was smudged from tears.

“This was the night everything changed, Spencer. This was the beginning of the end, but at the time it just felt like the beginning. It was a little over a year ago, sorry for skipping some of the middle. I could’ve written a 5,000 page novel about every little moment I had with you. If I had the time, I would. I’d write about every date night, every bouquet of roses, every case you held my hand through. I thought about writing about a lot more of the ‘happy’ parts, but they would’ve just been fun, little, anecdotes and made my heart hurt more. I decided on only highlighting the important parts, not that the happy parts were unimportant. I think they may be the most important, they’re the only things that kept me going at the end. Those parts gave me hope that maybe one day we’d get back to those people. But we didn’t and those people are long gone. Now all the bad memories outweigh the good ones. I need you to see the ugly parts. I always showed you those, and you still told me they were beautiful in some way.

“Everything is a masterpiece if you look at it in the right way”

So here’s the ugly Spence, any clue how to make this beautiful? How do I make this a ‘masterpiece’? Because I don’t know.

Before I start, I want you to put on some regular clothes and pack up the box and put it in your car. Remember how in the first letter I said you’d need to go somewhere? This is that letter. So get in your crappy car that brought us together and drive to the place where it all started to fall apart: Meridian Hill Park.”

Spencer stopped reading and did as you asked. He took the sweatshirt off and hung it in his closet in a place he’d see it everyday. He didn’t really own any ‘regular clothes’ so he ended up in slacks and a dress shirt, his version of regular. He grabbed the box and the last of the coffee in a to-go mug and got in the car. He slipped the disc from letter 2 in and listened to Stacy’s Mom on a low volume. Between that and the snow, he felt like you were right there with him.

When he got to the park, he sat in his car for a moment and reopened the letter.

“There? Good. The bench we sat at is next to the blue bird bath and under that huge oak tree. Go sit at it.”

Spencer got out of the car, now wearing a heavy wool coat and scarf, and made his way to that spot. After most of your dates you’d go for a stroll around that park and always end up at that exact bench. You’d talk for hours, or sometimes you’d people watch. Either way, that bench became another one of your places. He set the box down on his left, the spot where you usually sat, and kept reading.

“That particular night was in December, during that weird week in between Christmas and New Years when time doesn’t feel real and the world is almost at a stand still. (My favorite week of the year) I had begged you to go to the movies with me. I dragged you to see Frozen.

“Frozen?” You said, crinkling your nose, “Out of all the movies?”

I laughed and told you that I needed to see it because Mia had and already loved it. I think I said something like, “If I’m going to be her cool Aunt we have to see it.”

And you agreed, because you’d do anything for me. You always would. So two thirty-somethings went to see a six o’clock showing of Frozen on a Tuesday. We looked ridiculous; your messenger bag was overflowing with snacks and we were the only people there without a child.

I loved it though, and you did too. When the movie was over we sat in the lobby at a table and I finished my slurpee as you told me about the real story of Frozen.

“It’s loosely based on ‘The Snow Queen’ by Hans Christian Andersen from 1845. They both have a snow Queen, reindeer, trolls, frozen hearts, and snow creatures, but that’s where the similarities end. In the original story there is a horrible magic mirror and,” You finally paused to breathe, “ROBBERS!”

I laughed, “Aren’t all fairytales actually awful? We’ve just disney-ified them for kids?”

You nodded, “Most fairy tales in their original form were gruesome to the extreme. In Cinderella, the step-sisters had their feet mutilated to fit into the shoe.”

I yawned, “That’s why I always stuck to Pixar.”

We laughed and threw away our million candy wrappers. As we were leaving I saw a photo booth, one of those old one’s like I went in with all my high school boyfriends. I pulled you over to it and you grimaced, “It’s a small space CRAWLING with germs Y/N!” you whined to me, “Do you know how many people have been in there?”

I rolled my eyes, “It’ll take thirty seconds and I will sanitize after!”

I tugged your arm in and we both barely fit in the booth. You pulled me onto your lap and four poses later we had two photo strips covered in pictures of you kissing my cheek and us smiling. That’s your momento for this letter.”

Spencer reached in and grabbed the photo strip delicately between his fingers. It was one of those tacky ones that looked like a roll of film and all the pictures were in black and white. The first one was the two of you smiling as wide as you could, the second you stuck your tongue out and Spencer scrunched up his nose, for the third he kissed your cheek, and the last one you turned your head to meet him. His heart softened for a moment, remembering how soft and sweet your kisses were. They were usually delicate, like you were kissing the finest of china. Or they were intense, like you were drowning and he was coming up for air. He felt warm, despite the snow falling all around him.

“This is my copy. We printed two. I don’t know where yours is, I just hope it isn’t in the trash. I know it’s another photograph; you just got one of those from JJ’s wedding. But I love photographs. I have a million of you and I. I always used to shove my phone in your face and you’d block it with your hands. I haven’t been able to bring myself to delete them yet. I just love pictures. They capture moments, the good and the bad. Sometimes the only thing that can get the feelings across is a photo, so here’s four.

I remember sticking them in my purse as we walked out of the theater hand in hand and found ourselves in this park. I love it when the cherry blossom’s bloom, but they weren’t blooming. We found our way to this exact bench that you’re sitting on right now. I think it has the best view of the fountain. You put your arm around me and I snuggled into you. You were trying to talk about work; something about Rossi and Gideon? I didn’t know. I was so tired, I couldn’t even focus. I remember just staring at the dry fountain; they turn it off when the weather gets too cold.

“Don’t you agree?” You said, but I didn’t register it, “Y/N?”

I looked up at you and blinked a few times. I sat up and moved myself off of you, “What? Sorry about that I—“ my own yawn interrupted me, “I’m just really tired.”

You looked at me so concerned. Your pretty, honey brown eyes always could see right through me.

“Tired? But we went to sleep at ten last night, you should’ve had at least seven hours.”

I just shrugged and you raised your eyebrows at me, waiting for me to spill.

“I couldn’t fall asleep the last few nights.”

I avoided your prying gaze that felt red hot on my skin even in the freezing air and played with the locket around my neck, as I usually do when I’m nervous.

“Y/N,” You said and grabbed my two hands to make me look at you. I looked you straight in the eyes.

“Talk to me.”

I sighed, “No.”

“No?” You looked offended, I don’t blame you.

“No,” I said plainly. It looked like I was picking a fight, but I wasn’t. I just wasn’t ready to tell you. It’s so weird, we had spent over two years together by then, and I still couldn’t tell you. I don’t know why. It wasn’t you. You make me feel comfortable and safe. I think talking about it made it more real for me, you know? And I just didn’t want it to be real.

“Is it the nightmares? Are they back again?”

I just nodded. Of course you knew, you always knew.

“Y/N, we’ve been through this. You have to talk about them.”

I groaned and you dropped my hands to run yours through your hair. Frustrated is how you felt in that moment, and I don’t blame you. I was mad at myself too.

“I know! But can’t I just not want to talk about it?”

You stood up and paced in front of me, “You have to talk to someone! Even if it isn’t me.”

“That’s the thing! I don’t trust anyone except you with it!”

You sounded defeated, “Then why don’t you tell me? You haven’t slept, Y/N. You need to take care of yourself. I can’t just sit back and watch you do this to yourself. It’s not healthy.”

That isn’t the last time I heard you say that, but it was the first. That became your favorite phrase at the end. “It’s not healthy,” as if you’re the judge of what’s healthy and not.

My heart ached at the sight of you; purple scarf disheveled and your eye bags a similar color. Your hair was tousled from running your hands through it and you looked like you might cry. I patted the seat next to me so you would sit down and then before I could even think them, the words were tumbling out of my mouth. Every. Damn. Detail.”

He remembered it so clearly, as if it were yesterday. The cold air bit at your skin causing you to shiver and pull your coat tighter. The only warmth either of you felt was what was radiating off the other. It wasn’t much.

“It’s the nightmare, like the nightmare. The same one from Jacksonville. It just won’t go away. I wake up sweaty and disoriented and I can’t breathe.”

Silence came. How hadn't he heard you wake up the last few nights? Why didn’t he notice? He silently scolded himself while watching your feet draw little shapes in the snow. The flakes landed on your hair perfectly and the light made you look like you had a halo. An angel. His angel.

You got yourself together and back tracked, “Do you know what I did before the BAU Spence?”

He thought for a moment and realized he didn’t. He had no idea. It was a strange feeling. He knew the last four or so years of your life so well. He spent two and some change of them with you, together, but he knew little about you before then. He knew about your family and your childhood, but that was it. Your early twenties were a secret.

“No, I don’t,” He croaked, running his hands nervously down his pants, as if they were sweaty, “Rossi just called you one day and the next you were here.”

You sighed and didn’t dare look at him, “I worked with Organized Crime in California. With the Bratva.”

“The russian mafia?” His voice went high, like it always did when he was confused.

“Let me start at the beginning,” You took a deep breath and held it for a moment, “I went to school, got my criminal justice degree, you know the usual stuff. I worked on various other criminal psychology and forensic degrees and certs until I turned twenty-three.”

“So you could join the bureau,” he finished your sentence.

You pursed your lips and nodded, “Yeah, it was my life long dream. So I joined at 23, found myself in organized crimes twenty weeks later. I was on the fast track. Not as fast as you of course,” You smiled and bumped your shoulder with his, earning a warm smile that made you feel more comfortable.

“I worked various cases for a year or two. Low level stuff, you know? Until they actually needed me.”

He was nervous to hear it now, half regretting asking, and half celebrating the fact that you’d share your deepest darkest with him.

“You know like in old movies when the gangster has a pretty girl in a skimpy dress on his lap? And she pretends to know nothing about what he does? Yeah that was me. Turns out I was the right age and type for Alexei. So there I was. Twenty-five. Had no idea what I was doing, going undercover.”

“Like Emily did with Doyle,” he said.

You nodded, “Like Emily and Doyle. That’s part of why we got along so well, we both had similar experiences. She knew what the long haul was like.”

“How long were you under?” Spencer whispered.

“Sixteen months.”

His eyes went wide, “Sixteen?”

“Yup,” you popped the ‘p’.

“That’s a long time.”

“You don’t become a mafia kingpin’s girlfriend overnight, Reid.”

He laughed. You didn’t.

“See you guys do the short stints. A night, maybe a day or so. It’s different. It’s draining. Constantly worrying about knowing the details of my cover while also not losing myself in the process. Sometimes I couldn’t tell where the cover ended and I started. I was paranoid, looking over my shoulder constantly. If they knew who I was, I’d get killed instantly.”

He stiffened next to you, but you carried on.

“And you can’t break character. You have to do whatever they want. I had to be his girlfriend. I had to pretend to love him. You know how tiring that is? Pretending to be in love with a man you’re trying to take down? Pretending to like what he likes? Pretending to want to be a part of the sick shit they did?”

He sighed, “You had to do everything he wanted.”

His heart sank and he suddenly felt angry. He needed to punch this guy in the face.

“Everything,” You practically spit out, venom dripping from the words, “And Alexei’s favorite pastime was killing people who he thought were disloyal. He’d switch it up. Some days he liked to make them suffer, others it was one between the eyes and out. He liked to make me watch. He liked hurting the dancers too. They had a club, they always have a damn club, and those girls were the only friends I had for months. He liked to hurt them too, defile them. ‘Ruin them’ he’d say.”

Spencer’s arm reached around you now. The cold was getting to both of you, but you didn’t budge from the bench. You didn’t curl into him for safety. You just stared at the snow.

“He liked when it hurt. He liked to throw things at me. Bruise me. Pull my hair. God I hated it,” your voice was a mere whisper now. Spencer’s grip around you tightened with every word. He wanted to protect you. He always wanted to protect you.

“Shh, it’s okay,” He mumbled into your hair. A few frozen tears dripped down your cheeks. You sat like that, silently sobbing while remembering what had happened to you. What you’d seen.

“What happened to him?”

You took a shaky breath, “I begged them to let me out. We had enough. I had stacks and stacks of pictures and evidence. But they didn’t let me. My awful handler would always say ‘just a few more days, Y/N, just a few.’ Then that would become another month. The job only needed eight months. I was there double that. Finally, they did the raid. I got kudos and congratulations. A promotion and a couple extra bucks, as if that would take away what I had been through. I wasn’t myself anymore.”

You took a thick swallow, finding it hard to breathe, “So I quit.”

Spencer held you still, not moving a muscle.

“I quit. I gave up my dream. I moved back to Connecticut. I made coffee at Starbucks for $7.25 an hour. I read. I went on trips and vacations. I needed to find myself again. Then one day you guys stumbled into them and Rossi called me since I knew first hand how they worked. That was all I needed. A taste of it again, and I was all in. So a week later I showed up, Rossi raving about my ‘ability to get information out of people.’ I developed the skill to survive, Spence.”

You turned into him now, head on his chest.

“So the nightmares are those memories. The girl’s faces. The young kids who messed up jobs. They’re hurting and I can’t save them. That’s the nightmare.”

You sat in silence, letting the words hang in the air between you. You were tired and spent, leaning your full body weight into him. He was just trying to relax and keep calm. He was pissed, and a little bit was directed at you.

“I’m so sorry Y/N, but thank you for telling me,” His voice was low and raspy, his head spinning. For just over two years he had been your person. Your rock. And he didn’t know this about you? Why couldn’t you tell him? He told you all of his dirty secrets; his dad, the kidnapping, the drugs, and you ‘couldn’t tell him?’ Why?

“That’s why I was so scared when Emily ‘died.’” You used air quotes around the last word, “Her nightmare came true.”

“Yours won’t.”

You sniffled and rubbed your ice cold nose, “I know. You guys keep me safe.”

You looked up at him, falling into his big doe eyes. They were hurt and twisty, but full of love. And you looked at him like he was everything in the world. In that moment, he was.

He treated you differently after that night. He was always kind and gentle, but he approached you with a new sense of care. He didn’t mean for it to happen, it just did. Someone finally understood you, and it felt so good. But one thing always bothered him, why did you wait so long to tell him? He didn’t think he’d ever know.

“I loved you and trusted you enough to lay it all out for you, and you took it all in. You told me you wouldn’t let it change anything, but it did. I thought it changed us for the better. Maybe it didn’t, I’m still not sure. You told me it made me stronger, more resilient. It made you love me more, if that was even possible. It made me human. You told me Ernest Hemingway once said “The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.” You said I was strong at those broken places.

So that’s what this photostrip is to me. It’s the day I officially took all of my walls down and showed you the parts of me that aren’t pretty, and you didn’t run away. You stayed and kissed me on that freezing cold park bench and warmed me up with a hug I never wanted to leave. I thought after that it would take something much greater than you or I to break this apart, like divine intervention. We were impenetrable, but then again, so was the Titanic.

That night I didn’t have any nightmares. I didn’t have a bad one until a few weeks ago. I missed having you next to me during it. You were right, talking about it does help. I’ll find someone out here to talk to, I promise.

That night, all the walls were finally down. I think that was my fatal mistake, if only I kept them up a little while longer.

So look at us, all young and innocent before the world left us jaded and hurt. I miss your cheek kisses and the way your hands feel snaking around my waist. I miss your fact dumps and the way you feel like home. Thank you for taking me at my worst, loving me, and leaving me better than I was when you got there. Just like being under, it’s now hard for me to tell where I end and you begin. So many parts of you became parts of me. I’ll have to work on finding myself again, and this time I won’t do it over grande java-chip frappucinos, I’ll do it over case files. I’m finally done running away.”

Spencer’s throat was dry and his palms were so sweaty the ink was bleeding underneath his fingers. How was he sweating when it was barely ten degrees outside? He put the letter and photo strip back in the box and stuffed it in the passenger seat of his car before walking back into the park.

The fountain was off again, but he remembered what it looked like running. He walked the same paths you had walked with him a million times. He never wanted to walk them alone. He wondered if Seattle had any nice parks like this for you to walk through. He hoped you were close to Pike Place Market so you could order a coffee at the first ever Starbucks. He hoped you were happy.

He remembered the way the park looked in the summertime, all lush, green grass and kid’s playing. He remembered the picnic you went on when the blanket flew away. He remembered kissing you under huge trees and feeding birds. As he walked around, he could almost see it, shadows of the people you used to be.

He walked for maybe an hour before retreating back to his crappy car and crying for a moment. He didn’t turn the music back on as he drove home. He just thought of the way your body racked with tears at the nightmares and how he could always calm you down, almost instantly. He wondered who would see you through the nightmares now? They’re too hard to do alone.

He didn’t remember when he got home, seemingly having driven on auto-pilot the whole time. When he got back inside he dropped the box and made a beeline for where his copy of your photo strip was, on one of his many shelves covered in books. He grabbed the book he had started six months ago. It was a gift from Rossi and he only read half of it, a rarity for him. When he got halfway through, everything happened and he couldn’t bring himself to open the book up anymore. He rifled through the pages of ‘What to Expect When You’re Expecting’ and found the photo strip where it was acting as a bookmark on the page where he had left off. He took it out and slammed the book closed, not wanting to read any of the words, even by accident.

He took the strip over and compared it to yours. His was worn and bent and the shiny photo paper had dulled from the many pages he had stuck it between. Yours was in perfect condition, still shiny and even a little sticky, like it hadn’t been touched. He stared at them, wondering what your life would be now if you could’ve held onto the people in that photo booth. There were so many what-ifs, he didn’t even know where to begin. He knew he couldn’t just leave it at these letters, he needed more. He needed to see you and he fully intended on breaking your ground rules, but not until he was finished. He walked back to the box with newfound vigor, and grabbed #9.

PART 10!

taglist: @l0ve-0f-my-life @aperrywilliams @helloniallslovelies @random-ravings

@ajwantsapancake @andiebeaword @boiled-onionrings @frnks-stuff @icantevenanymore1 @mellifluouswildbluebells @rottenearly @sammypotato67 @blushingwueen @peaxhyjaes @justanotherfangurlz @juniorgman187 @mbowles23-blog @blameitonthenight @goldentournesol

(i think some tags aren’t working so if anyone knows how to fix that pls lmk :)

#spencer reid #spencer x you #spencer #spencer reid fic #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #dr spencer reid #reid #reid x you #reid fic #cm fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic

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genesisrose74 · 4 years

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Karasuno Boys Singing Headcanons!

A/n: By this point I hope that everyone has seen the masterpiece that is Sugawara’s wonderful voice actor singing Under the Sea, which has won the spot in my heart for cutest thing I’ve ever heard. I then proceeded to go off the deep end of Haikyuu voice actors singing and safe to say I was in no way disappointed, so here’s some Karasuno boys singing headcanons! If you have any requests my ask box is open 💖 enjoy!

Daichi

Is it just me or would Daichi not care if someone heard him singing

He seems like the type of person who hums all the time

Partly because it helps relax him after yelling at the team all day LMAO He doesn’t necessarily sing with lyrics every chance he gets, but when he does he’s pretty casual about it

He’ll sing in the car a lot, and it was actually the first place you heard him

Boy has a soothing playlist for school days and you always like hearing his voice when he drives you in the mornings

Will hum when you’re both doing schoolwork in his or your house

Doesn’t realize he has a good voice, so he never tries to show off all that often in front of people and thus the team has not heard him full out sing yet

So when they does hear him like, actually singing for the first time at the end of practice they’re SHOOK

Tanaka and Nishinoya instantly start spamming you with texts, asking why you hid away such a precious secret for so long

You’re sitting in the library staring at your constantly vibrating phone like ??? doesn’t he sing all the time?

When you end up texting the boys this question they go absolutely feral

At this point Daichi is losing his voice yelling at the team to calm tf down

Suga is cackling in the corner of the team gym cause he been knew

It’s absolutely chaotic literally someone come save Daichi please-

Sugawara

HAHA GET READY BOYS

Official team mom of Karasuno sings all the damn time don’t even get me started

Always humming some upbeat tune doing schoolwork, cleaning up after practice, in the car, etc.

Seriously when is this sweet baby not singing

The team is well aware of this, especially the sideline cheer squad (Yamaguchi, moi ippon nice serve!)

Tell me he does not make up rhyming cheers under his breath during matches I dare you

Will literally make up a stupid song on the spot to describe whatever he is currently doing or feeling

Hinata bathroom vibes tbh but it’s even more out of the blue

“Got an A on my exam today, and things are going my way”

“Suga, for the love of everything please stop”

“Daichi thinks I’ll listen to what he’ll say, but I’m singing more anyway”

He is always on board with karaoke whenever Karasuno has team bonding nights

One time you are invited to this by Suga himself and he gets up and starts singing a Disney song haha guess which one

And as often as the team has heard him sing mans is feeling it tonight for whatever reason and y’all can tell

You have never heard anyone sing Under the Sea so passionately before but it’s a gift and you’re not complaining

Asahi

Boy is so insecure oh my gosh please give him some support

Very shy about singing in front of anyone and everyone

The only time you’ve ever heard him sing was when you were over at his house and he was taking a shower

You had gone downstairs to get a snack from the kitchen and when you come back up he’s singing alongside one of his playlists

You don’t know if it’s because of the steam and the solid acoustics in the bathroom but he doesn’t sound half bad

You try not to startle him as soon as he gets out because you know how flustered he’d get

But then a while later while y’all are studying on his bed you just casually bring it up like ‘You have a nice voice, Asahi’ and that’s all

He’s a little shocked at first that you heard him but kind of smiles and sighs in relief because you liked his singing!! 🥺

Precious teddy bear is totally happy for the rest of the week, like that’s how much your praise means to him sdlkgjfdjsof he’s too cute

Eventually warms up to humming little tunes around you

He’s really blushy when he does but you pretend not to notice for his sake lmao

It makes you so warm inside that he feels comfortable enough to let you hear him

Ennoshita

In this house we do not sleep on Ennoshita

As much as he is the mom of the second years he will flaunt his stuff whenever he gets the chance and this is one of those times

If a generic pop song is on at literally any point in time and he hears it, damn right he’s going to sing

When it comes to singing Ennoshita is hands down the most chaotic no question about it

Sometimes he’ll actually sing a verse pretty decently

And then the next line is just the embodiment of a dumpster fire and he does not care

These are the only times that Tanaka and Noya get irritated with him and not the other way around

But Ennoshita doesn’t give a shit, he’s so cheeky

Like he’ll be walking through the mall and a banger of a song like Fergalicious comes on over the speakers? You’re done for

Even if he doesn’t know the lyrics at certain points, or deadass does not know any of them at all, he’ll just power through

If there is a sports banquet complete with dancing and music and the team attends, Ennoshita is tearing up the floor and singing his heart out

Honestly you’re a little scared to interfere cause what is he even doing-

He has made quite a few friends from opposing teams with his frankly lunatic level energy

I’m looking at you Oikawa, Tendou

Tanaka

ANIME. INTROS.

He sounds EXACTLY like that opening singer from Bungou Stray Dogs I wonder why

No but actually we all heard his little song in season one, when he’s late and walking to the gym like what a king-

In summary he is a pretty good singer

Most definitely a frequent participant during team karaoke nights and everyone enjoys his little performances

When he realizes that girls actually like guys who can sing he starts using this to his advantage

And surprisingly it ended up working

You’re out at karaoke with some friends one night and you hop outside to get some more food for your group when you hear somebody slaying Rough Diamonds; your mind instantly goes to Food Wars

It catches your interest and then you realize...this dude goes to your school? You are positively whipped

He sees you from the doorway and when he realizes you’re enjoying the song he amps it up another three notches

Achievement get: girlfriend

Karaoke dates and other such outings happen often, thank you very much

As much as he enjoys singing he does not overdo it like Ennoshita, who has been limited to three songs per night every time the group goes out, please for the sake of everyone’s eardrums

Nishinoya

As Tanaka’s best friend and as the co-president of simps everywhere, Nishinoya is another common singer during karaoke nights

Having fun and maybe picking up a cute girl at the end of it all? That’s literally his life agenda

He either goes for the badass, headbanging songs that are super energetic, or he jams out to the generic and famous pop groups’ songs

There is no in between

Noya has a slightly deeper singing voice but sometimes he’ll go for the stupid high notes for fun and just...completely fails

The fact that he has never successfully hit one of those notes doesn’t deter him in the slightest though; his goal is to get there at least once before he dies

He can sing so many popular TikTok audios and you can’t decide whether to be impressed or slightly disappointed with that fact

Noya doesn’t really sing at practice just because he’s focused, but when he’s walking home or getting food from Sakanoshita afterwards he might start randomly singing something

The type of person who has like a billion different playlists on his phone for the most obscure moods (honestly same Noya)

Like there’s one named “Bad Test Grade But I Won a Free Popsicle Kind of Feeling” don’t even ask

Will put on a concert in his room and perform a whole lineup of these songs for you

Sometimes you think it’s just so he can avoid doing schoolwork but you let him get away with it occasionally

cause you’d never tell him but it’s so entertaining and kinda hot what

Tsukishima

OH GOD THIS BOY

I swear you have tried time and time again to figure out whatever the hell kind of music he listens to with those chonky headphones of his but you have never successfully completed that mission

There are only two - count em, TWO - instances where you have ever witnessed this embodiment of a salt shaker doing anything resembling singing

Number one was a literal meme TikTok where you were using Beyond the Mysterious Beyond from Land Before Time as your audio

You didn’t expect Tsukki to recognize it at all

But he’s in the top corner of your phone screen and he is deadass LIP SYNCING EVERY WORD and you’re SENT INTO ORBIT

DOES HE STUTTER? NOPE

Should have expected that Mr. Dinosaur Obsessed would have watched Land Before Time and loved the all the bops

That video is forever saved in your drafts because he’d literally end you if that went public but you refuse to completely get rid of it

Second time, our french fry child actually sings because Yamaguchi forces him to do a song with him lmao

It only lasts for about three verses but it’s all anyone has heard from him before and is therefore a blessing from above

If anyone has heard these two singing Sarishinohara on YouTube you know what I’m talking about if not look it up it’s an absolute gift

Literal perfection in a duet like?? Everyone is depressed when they realize that Tsukki’s voice had been hidden from the world until that very moment

We will cherish this short taste of Singing! Tsukki for all time amen 😔🙏

Yamaguchi

Like Asahi, this precious bean is also shy about his singing

But he will sometimes get a burst of confidence if he’s having a really good day or if someone is singing with him

When those moments arrive they are wonderful

He sounds like an angel, not even exaggerating he’s just so pure

Has a very light tone no matter how the song originally sounds and it’s really soothing to be honest

When his little bouts of confidence wear off please for the love of God praise him in any way shape or form, it makes him feel good about himself

On team bus rides to games, he and Yachi will sometimes sing fun tunes together to calm each others’ nerves and it’s incredibly precious

Tsukki will send you videos of this pregame ritual and you have a folder reserved for them in your camera roll

Everyone say thank you Tsukki

He will sing for you if you’re feeling super down about something because he knows you love it

Never fails to calm you down and cheer you up, and Yams knows in those moments that he would gladly sing for the rest of his life if it made you smile

We stan one soft, talented bean sprout

Kageyama

Another stubborn boy when it comes to singing in front of other people

He will hum on rare occasion but don’t expect much more

You start to realize that whenever he does start humming, though, it’s always the same song, so one day you ask him about it

It’s a song his grandfather used to sing to him when he was little and he uses it to calm himself down

You almost start crying on the spot because you know how much his grandpa meant to him

Kags says there were lyrics to it but he doesn’t remember them besides a few random words scattered here and there

It becomes your personal mission to find the rest of the lyrics because you’ll be damned if your precious baby goes another day without hearing them again

Finally after countless obscure Google searches you find the song

But you don’t know how to casually bring up the fact that you had spent hours obsessively looking for them into a conversation-

So one day you’re hanging out with Kageyama, but he’s been in an awful mood all week, and you decide to start singing the song that his grandpa used to but including the lyrics

And when he recognizes the words and puts the chorus together, he instantly relaxes and starts singing it with you

He is so touched and thankful that he can finally recall the song in its entirety, and now you both sing said song to each other whenever the other is feeling down

I love him so much my heart-

Hinata

When you find out he can sing you’re absolutely floored

Literally the only time in his life that Hinata can successfully speak English words and it’s in a song? And it’s coherent?? It’s a miracle

The whole team gets on his ass about sucking at English in class but being able to obliterate those lyrics when they come up in a song and the poor tangerine gets all huffy

hE’s tRyiNg HiS bESt oKaY

His range is SO GOOD THOUGH WHAT-

You’re in the middle of a store with him and he’s been occasionally singing along to the music from the speakers and at this point you’re not even surprised at how good he sounds

But then he just starts singing in falsetto

BOI- When I say your jaw is on the floor I am not playing games

The power he holds is beyond comprehension

He’s looking at you confused like did he do something wrong?

When you proceed to flip out over how great he just sounded baby gets so embarrassed how cute

Again, one of those people who just doesn’t know their gift and it makes him even more precious

I would kill to have his capabilities like imagine the talent; if that whole volleyball thing doesn’t work out there’s also the music industry sir-

In conclusion: CAN SOMEONE PLEASE GET THIS SUNSHINE A MIC THANK YOU

60 notes · View notes

justasparkwritings · 3 years

Text

Codename Cupid: Chapter 21

Previous: Codename Black Panther

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x OFC

Genre: Secret AgentAU, Government AgentAU, Smut Lite

Rating: PG17

Word Count: 2.9K

Warnings: Swearing, Grinding, Making Out

Summary: Lee Euna receives a startling message and goes to the one person she assumes will have the answers, or at least, an explanation.

(uhhh didn’t know it was going to be this long)

The Final Notice

Present Day

The note said they’d be meeting me face to face, but months have passed, and I am sitting here, waiting. Waiting for a sign, for another note, for someone to be sitting in my living room when I return home, for a dead rabbit to appear in my pasta pot, Jungkook to be taken for ransom, literally anything. And yet, nothing has happened. No note or call.

I’ve increased surveillance on Taehyung, the only one who seems to connect some of these men, and by a stroke of pure genius, put a tracker on his car and Namjoon’s, as well as a few bugs in their apartment. There’s only so many times you can send flowers with a vague card, and a listening device embedded within the glass. Who gets rid of vases? Hopefully not these men.

I’ve learned few things in my listening, namely that I am correct. The men are connected. Taehyung and Jimin are best friends and spend an innumerable number of hours together. They also spend time with Namjoon, who I think, if I’m correct, knows Hoseok. Hobi is a nickname for Hoseok, right? And if not, I’m fucked. They’ve added a new person to their discussion, someone they call Black Panther, who sounds like a right pain in the ass. All they do is bitch about how they’re constantly on call to deal with Black Panther’s mess, that Black Panther is getting in their way and in turn, ruining all plans. They speak in some code I don’t know, and I don’t know how to crack it. What I’m more startled by, is the fact that they continue to call this mystery person black panther, who calls a friend Black Panther? That’s like, cultural appropriation lite?

It’s not, I’m kidding. It’s totally not.

When I put it all the information together, Black Panther out of the equation because I have no idea who it is, it doesn’t amount to much. Names and addresses, a few yelp reviews, and nothing more. My gut is telling me there’s something here, something more than what Euna believes. Hoseok showing up in Genevieve’s photos, the trio going out to dinner, the mysterious note with the water mark, it has to add up to something. That and they keep mentioning the 7 of them, when the 7 of them are together, they’ll make sense of it, when the 7 of them are all clued in, they can handle Black Panther. Is Black Panther not their seventh member?

The door to my office slams open, and a disgruntled Euna stomps in, lily white, tears cascading through her foundation.

“Euna, what a sur-

“Did you know about this?” She demands, shoving a picture in my face.

“What?”

“They know each other!” She yells.

The photo, a polaroid, of Min Yoongi, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung and Kim Namjoon. I’ve never seen them all together, Euna was right, they are despicably pretty.

“How in your world did you not figure out that they know each other?”

“I-

“They look pretty fucking chummy to me!”

“Euna, please, sit, let’s chat,” I stand to get her a water, which she yanks out of my hand and tosses down her throat.

“Have you been withholding information?” Her voice has simmered, the bubbles of discontent slowly rising to the surface but never popping.

All I can do is sigh and shrug my shoulders. Lying is not going to work, she’s paying me enough to give her one of my unused eggs, the least I can do is be honest with her.

“That’s unfair, I could demand money back for your deception,” Euna says.

“I have withheld information on the basis that I need more time to connect the dots,” I start. “This is season 1 of The Wire and I’m fucking McNulty asking for more time to put the wire up. These men, Euna,” I exhale again, “It’s not linear, I can’t just plot them and see the whole picture. It’s much more complicated than that.”

“Explain,”

“All of it?”

“Yes, all of it, you think I want to fucking understand parts of it?” Valid question.

“Fine. It starts sometime when Kim Namjoon was sixteen, I’m not sure what that something is, but that’s the beginning of it. He was a prodigy, renowned in mathematics and rhetoric, short listed for a Nobel Prize by fifteen. After Namjoon, it moves to you and Seokjin, which leads to you and Yoongi, Jun-Seo and Jimin. Finally, it all ends up at Taehyung and whatever happened there,” I glance at her, hoping she’ll tell me if the supposed abortion was from him or someone else. “Somehow Jung Hoseok winds up at Lee Enterprise’s Masquerade, and Kim Namjoon comes back into the picture as a friend of Jimin and Taehyung’s.”

“Jung Hoseok has taken Kwan on a few dates,”

“Are they still seeing each other?”

“No. That’s all you’ve got?”

“I’ve got more, but I’m not sure it’s going to help you understand this anymore than you already do.” I don’t move to open any files on my computer or pull up any surveillance, Euna doesn’t need that, that information won’t help her in any way understand what these men have in common.

“Does this make sense to you?” She asks.

“It’s all,” I sigh, “fits and starts.”

“Why am I paying you?”

“Euna, you have given me an already impossible job, and then added more impossible tasks on top of that. I have found all of these men, I have addresses, I have occupations and locations of current employment for five out of seven. I’ve done a fucking good job on something that should truly be solved by a governing body, not a P.I. who bought thirty dollar’s worth of Indian food and ate it over five days because I couldn’t afford to buy more. I’ve used all my resources, called in favors, spied, tiptoed on the brink of impropriety in order to get you results. I’ve done a damn good job.”

Glowering, her voice is impenetrable, “Then why can’t you find Min Yoongi?”

“That man has erased himself from the internet, completely, from every website, every search, he’s just gone.” Exasperatedly, I throw my hands in the air as my voice rises. How many times can I explain this to her?

“He’s alive though,” She counters.

“Yes, but that doesn’t mean I can pinpoint him,” I grit my teeth and stand, pacing slowly around my office, her voice trailing behind me as I move.

“He’s really,” She pauses, “Out of any of them, Y/N, he’s the one.”

I run my hand through my hair before pulling at the strands and aggressively knotting it in a ponytail, the anger feeding into the heat of my body and I shed my sweatshirt. A sweatshirt, with a line drawing of a uterus, that my mother refused to buy me for my birthday so I spent $90 on it myself. I know Euna hates it, but it’s my office and I didn’t know she’d be popping in today in her Dior terrycloth jumpsuit. If I did, I would’ve at least put on a J.Crew sweatshirt and leggings that don’t have wax on them from making crayon art with the kids I used to nanny.

“I know, Euna. I know he’s important, I know he’s the one that got away, I know he’s the white whale of this whole investigation. But Euna, he-

In the middle of my breath, the door opens again creating a space for Jungkook to saunter in. He’s parted his hair, a little off center, and hasn’t put in any product leaving the tendrils to fall softly framing his face. His locks are still long adjacent, and his left hand is using his sweater paw to hold a scalding beverage. His eyebrows are sloped, a genuine look of concern reflecting into my irises. The relief I feel cascading over me, of familiarity, of home, nearly bulldozes me into him.

“Cricket, I brought you some,” His voice trails as he takes in my client. “Coffee.”

“Oh thank god,” I whisper. Taking the cup from him, my eyes apologetic as I fall gracelessly into his open arms. The scent of his shampoo and cologne swirl in my nose, relaxing my senses. Nothing smells as sexy as Jungkook. No one looks as sexy as Jungkook does, no matter what he’s wearing, no matter the time of day or night. NSYNC put it best when they sang “god must’ve spent a little more time on you”, because whoever arranged the chromosomes and bone structure within Jungkook truly made a masterpiece. As the kids would say, he’s a whole ass meal. Jungkook keeps a hand splayed on my back while he turns back to Euna. He scans her up and down, no doubt assessing the level of danger she’s presenting.

“Who are you?” Euna snaps.

“This is my boyfriend, he was just dropping off some coffee,” I answer. The arm around his waist squeezes a little tighter, my head still resting against his chest.

“Do I know you?” She wonders.

“Me?” Jungkook asks.

“Yes, you, who else?”

He looks from me to her and back again, “Uh.” He shakes his head.

“You look so familiar,” She eyes him cautiously, “You’re Korean?”

“Uh, yeah,” His affirmation causes a twinkle in her eye, a recognition that if she wanted, she could use the powers at her fingertips to find his life story, overturn any

“Hmm,” She scans him again. “Are you leaving?”

“Oh, yeah sorry to interrupt,” Jungkook quickly glances at me, mouth moving to form SORRY as he scurries out the door. I hate when he leaves.

“Don’t fall in love with Korean men, they’ll ruin your life,” Euna sits back down, tossing back some of her water before looking back at the photo.

“Was something else left? A note maybe?” I hope this will move her back to the topic at hand, the photo in question and whomever left it, not my relationship.

“Yes, there was,” She reaches into her purse and oh how I wish she had gloves on. The note reads like the last one I received, rhyming and all.

“You’re looking too hard / We’ve been in plain sight / Stop looking for us / Or we’ll turn out your light,” I read. “Wow, premeditated violence.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Euna’s gone back to panic, eyes wild and cheeks red.

“It means they’ve been in front of us this whole time, as in, we’ve overlooked them,” I clarify.

“How could you have overlooked them?”

“I’m not the only one, Euna, you have maybe overlooked them too. Maybe it’s a larger commentary on your persona in a relationship.”

“My persona in a relationship? What would you know of that?”

“I know what you’ve told me, and I know what I’ve seen through our interactions. No one is perfect,” I’m trying to soften this, but she’s truly living up to Dae-Seong in her blind rage.

“Don’t try and compare your relationship to the heartache I have endured!”

“Euna, I’m not,” The exasperation cannot be more pronounced as I roll my eyes and sigh heavily.

“Your boyfriend, does what? How do you know he isn’t involved with these bastards?”

“I don’t,” My honesty cuts her off, eyes widening slightly at my levelheaded response. Her pause gives me worry, what is she thinking?

“Well, what do we do with these?” She shifts in the tension I’m brewing, I’m unsure what the solution is.

“I can spend the afternoon trying to trace it, I can fingerprint the note and see what comes up, if anything,” I offer.

“Will something?” A glimmer of hope, the worst emotion to ever contain or blossom in the human mind.

“Probably not, whoever these men are, they are far too good to be caught doing whatever it is they’re doing.”

“We need them all, all six,” Euna demands.

“What do you want from them?” The thousandth time it leaves my lips, it’s complete insanity. This will never change.

“What every woman wants,” She broods.

“Euna, I don’t know what that is,” I’m sinking lower into my chair with every syllable.

“Those who ask don’t get to know,” Abruptly she’s standing and leaving, belongings gathered in one hand, feet stomping heavily into the aged hardwood.

Ah, another hint at her upbringing.

I’m moving slowly through my apartment, Jungkook already sitting on the couch looking deeply cozy in his favorite grey sweats and a sweatshirt with a famous swoosh emblezaned across his chest. Dinner, pizza, is on its way, and a very large glass of prosecco sits waiting for me. I in turn am tossing off my bra, a sight Jungkook is audibly upset by, and coming to sit on the couch, in his embrace.

“I couldn’t leave, she was mad, I was worried about you,” He tells me, his lips pressing to my forehead repeatedly. “I didn’t know if she was going to hurt you.”

“About me? Bunny I’m okay, she doesn’t scare me, at least not physically,” I reply, my lips pressing against his neck in recognition of his vulnerability.

“I didn’t know if she was going to hurt you,”

“Bunny,” I sit up, turning my head to his.

“Cricket,” His eyes move from mine to my lip, his thumb coming to swipe over the bitten cherry of my lower lip.

“I love you, thank you for worrying about me,” I tell him, leaning in to kiss him, his soft, well moisturized lips making up for the bruised state of mine.

“I love you too,” He hesitates, his lips starting to say something but stopping.

“Jungkook?”

“I also found, this,” He pulls out a note, the watermark distinguishable against the light.

In black ink, a date and time is printed, and underneath:

Roses are red / Violets are blue / It’s time for us to meet / We’re ready, are you?

“What does this mean?” Jungkook asks.

“It means that, that I’m meeting with someone who may or may not want something from me, or maybe will hurt me. So just, be prepared.”

“What’s the one promise you made me make when we first started dating?” He pulls me back into his embrace, but I catch the sadness in his eyes.

“Aren’t we still in that honeymoon phase?” I want to lighten the mood and not focus on the way my heart is hurting. I never thought I would be the one concerned about not coming home, having Jungkook panicking over my safety.

I don’t like it, like at all.

“Absolutely, I think we’ll always be in that phase, but Y/N, please answer the question,” His arms tighten around my waist, another kiss to my temple, replaced by his soft cheek.

“If you’re not coming home, tell me. If something is going to jeopardize you coming back to me, you have to let me know,” I quote myself.

“So, if you are going to jeopardize your safety, Y/N, Cricket, my beloved, you gotta tell me. Let me follow you or drop a pin, or use Find My Friends so I can check up on you,” Jungkook rattles off all the apps with ease, a feat I find slightly concerning.

“I don’t want you to –

“No, no arguing.” His voice is curt, his words definite.

“Okay,”

“I love you, Cricks, and I don’t ever want to imagine anything happening to you.”

“I know Bunny,” If I could burrow into him, I would. His embrace is my safe place, my weighted blanket after a panic attack, fuck during a panic attack.

I have to come home to him. Whatever this note entails, it doesn’t matter. Torture me, harm me, beat me up, put me in the hospital, it doesn’t matter so long as when I wake up, or am lucky enough to walk away, I can come through that fucking front door to Jungkook.

“You didn’t say it back,” He teases.

Rolling my eyes dramatically, squirming intentionally in his grasp so that I can lock eyes again, I sigh. “I love you too.”

“Don’t act like that when you’d do the same to me!” He begins tickling me, and I feel beyond grateful for his duality.

“Stop it! Stop it! You’re right, okay!”

Giggling, his “I know,” is coupled with a kiss. He moves swiftly through my laughter to take my bottom lip between his teeth, tongue swiping over the indentations of his teeth before meeting mine. His hands, under my top and massaging my overheating flesh, pull me closer to him. I tug his locks as a moan escapes my lips, swallowed by his own groan as I reach my hand to palm him over his pants.

“Cricket,” He groans.

“Bunny,” I reply.

He pulls away, pushing my torso down onto him, where my hips happily grind against him.

“Lock and key?” He whispers, eyes refusing to close as he attempts to restrain himself from giving into the feeling of my heated core over his.

“God we’re that couple now?” I stop my ministrations, staring at his features. How did I get so lucky?

“Haven’t we always been?” He cocks an eyebrow, and I’m surprised he hasn’t mustered a ‘what’ to accompany the gesture.

“I guess,” I roll my eyes, which he greets with a thrust of his hips.

“Lock and key,” He repeats, hand behind my head, holding my gaze to his.

“You and me,” I answer, the smile on my lips finding his again.

Next: Cricket & OT7

6 notes · View notes

megatraven · 4 years

Text

Heart of Gold, Stardust Soul

Summary: When Alex can’t make it to the charity art gala Deukalion invites MC to, she goes alone and discovers that Deukalion isn’t quite the innocent that he seems. Pairing: Alex x MC A/N: A what-if scenario, exploring what could have happened if Alex didn’t go with MC to the gala and she discovers Aphrodite’s Heart there. It’s got a lot of headcanons thrown into the pot.

AO3

___________________

MC stares at her phone, disheartened by the message blinking up from her screen. Alex wasn’t coming. She understood- of course she did. Their mother’s Heart was out there, and despite everything, they were still working the case, suspension be damned.

There simply wasn’t enough time for them to go to the charity art gala with her.

So, she goes by herself. She’s completely awestruck by all the beautiful works on display, and smiles brightly when Deukalion comes to greet her. He’s kind enough to show her around the room before bringing her to his masterpiece.

She doesn’t think anything strange of it at first, mesmerized by its beauty though she is. But the more she watches it, the more pieces click into place. There’s an undercurrent of power in it, that much she knows- it’s an artifact. She’s seen enough of them, been around enough of them, that she knows it’s an artifact.

Her smile starts to fade.

And then it hits her. The color- the exact same shade as Alex’s eyes, and Aphrodite’s. The shape, reminiscent of a heart. The power, familiar.

Horror dawns on her face as she turns to look at Deukalion, but he only smiles- a little too wide, too many teeth.

“That’s the Heart. Isn’t it?”

“Isn’t it brilliant?”

Her palms are slick from sweat and she has to swallow down a lump in her throat. She tries grabbing her phone without alerting the half-titan, so she can message Alex or May or somebody-

But he sees, and he reaches out quicker than she can react, grabbing her wrist in in a painful grip.

“Don’t.”

His hold tightens on her until she drops the phone and he kicks it away from them before he lets her go. She rubs at her wrist, knowing it’ll be bruised later, but knowing just as well that it’s the least of her worries now.

“Apologies, Ms., I didn’t intend to hurt you. But you must understand why I’ve shown you this.”

She doesn’t want to listen to him, she wants to go, get out, get to safety because she can see it, now. It was hidden before, or maybe she just didn’t want to see it, but there’s a certain madness in his eyes, one that chills her to the bone and sets all her fight or flight responses off. And by his show of strength earlier, she knows flight would win out. But she doesn’t flee. She can’t. Not with the hundreds of other people around them, innocent. In danger.

So she humors him, hopes she can think of some way to get the Heart, to get away from him, to call Alex.

“...Why, then? And why hurt all those people by giving them the artifacts?” she demands. She may be sacred, but she wasn’t going to just sit down and let him steamroll over her. She had to learn something.

His smile widens and she supresses the urge to shudder.

“You see, Ms., it all started so very, very long ago...” he begins, and he tells her about his wonderful wife, his own children. His smile drops then, and anger rolls off him in waves. He tells her how Zeus was angry, and chose to punish the humans for it, how the gods did nothing to stop him, even as Deukalion prayed to them.

How Zeus killed his human wife, Pyrrah, with a great flood

And then he explains why he’s targeting humans- he doesn’t want them hurt, truly. But the gods will only come down if there is chaos that demands them to. And still they haven’t come. Multiple humans now, with an artifact of pure godly power, and no god has come down to stop it.

He tells her that the gods don’t care about humanity, and he has proven it.

She feels some inkling of sympathy for him, and almost reaches out, but stops herself. He’s dangerous. He’s not afraid to hurt people. He was wronged so terribly, but it doesn’t excuse that he’s left people for dead, not knowing if they would be helped in time. Her mind flashes to the man in the park, that nearly died from the artifact around his wrist. She drops her hand back down to her side.

Instead, she asks,

“Why me?”

His smile returns and that feeling that she needs to run away comes back in full force. She takes a step away from him, but he nearly closes the distance between them in one step.

Reaching up, his hands frame her face- not touching, but so close that she can feel the heat of them on her skin. She freezes, eyes wide, torn between cringing back or pushing him away.

“Because, my dear...” that madness in his eyes grows, and dread washes over her. “This is Pyrrah’s second chance.” He gazes deep into her eyes. “Your second chance.”

And before she can react, he grabs Aphrodite’s Heart and thrusts it into her hands, closing them over it with his own.

He’s speaking again- saying something about getting his revenge on the gods with his wife at last-

But MC can’t really hear him, not beyond the singing of her blood, the thrum of power that threatens to crush her under its pressure, her skull threatening to split apart as something far more ancient than she overcomes her.

No matter how she fights against it, the power of Aphrodite’s Heart lashes out, throwing the half-titan away from her as a scream builds in her chest. The aura comes out in waves of deep reds and pinks, striking out at tables and walls and other art pieces, thankfully, miraculously missing any humans.

The scream rips out of her throat and she drops to her knees, howling in agony. Her hands shake and she tries dropping it, tries letting it go- it’s not like the other two artifacts, wound around a part of her body.

But she can’t.

It burns her hands and wraps around them, travelling up her arms so that she can’t release it. Her blood feels like it’s boiling beneath her skin, her ring burning furiously as it tries to form its own aura to protect her, only to be snuffed out each time.

She looks wildly around the room, looking for something, anything to help her, but the only one near now is Deukalion, and she won’t give the Heart back to him, even if it kills her. She couldn’t let him have it again when it was hurting the person she loves. Rather than seek out his help, she holds onto the artifact tighter, and nearly suffocates at the surge of power that results from doing so.

Fighting against Aphrodite’s full power hurts, and Alex’s words ring in her ears, above the scream of the aura.

“You have to stop fighting the power. It’s going to lash out.”

They were calm then, when they had said it. She holds onto that feeling, and uses it to anchor herself against the tide of power.

It takes everything she has to stop fighting it, but she trusts Alex with that same everything, and so, against every instinct that says otherwise, she stops her struggle.

Once she lets it go, that building tidal wave of aura grows to brilliant heights, blinding her. She closes her eyes against it, not that it helps, and curls her body toward the ground, cradling the Heart to her chest.

It almost hurts less, this way. Letting it flow through her instead of fighting it. She tries to hold onto consciousness, but everything hurts, and she can feel herself fading. The edges of her vision go black, and she barely has the energy to lock eyes with Deukalion- his expression horrified, a mirror of her own earlier that evening- before she passes out. Or falls into a trance. Or becomes... not herself.

She whispers a name,

“Alex...”

And the darkness overcomes her.

She isn’t sure what happens then, only that she comes back to her senses, however briefly, when HERA agents swarm the building, and the Heart leaves her hands (finally), and Alex is there, holding onto her... crying?

Somehow, she musters the strength to smile at them. For them. Weakly, but it’s still a smile.

“Thank you,” she rasps out, and she thinks she hears them calling her name as she slips back under.

Time passes differently, when there’s nothing to measure it by. She’s in and out of consciousness, mostly floating in an empty space devoid of anything. Sometimes she hears a voice, one that feels familiar to her, like she’s known it her whole life, but that she swears she’s never hear before. It whispers secrets to her, soft apologies, promises that she’ll be okay. It tells her that Alex is waiting for her, and so are Josh and May.

It makes her heart ache, makes her restless in that empty place.

It seems to like it when she gets restless- those are the moments when she wakes up, for a quick minute, even if she never opens her eyes.

So she tries harder. She misses her best friends, her brother. She misses her job and her home and her life.

She fights against the tide of darkness that sticks to her and tries to keep her in that space where nothing else exists. And she gets closer, each passing minute, hour, day- whichever one passes.

The voice continues to encourage her, but it’s only when she finally speaks back, and asks it a question, that the voice answers her. And it’s not exactly hope that jolts her back into the real world once it does.

“Who are you?” she asks, not fearing the answer, but dreading it all the same.

The voice takes a long moment to reply, but she can wait- she’s been stuck for this long, anyhow.

Then, softly, so soft she thinks she might have imagined it if not for the terrible sorrow that fills her entire being at its words

“I’m Hera.”

And MC wakes up.

Her eyes fly open, and though it hurts, she draws in a deep gulp of air, bolting upright. Her chest heaves heavily and sweat drips down her forehead, over her lips, and down to the hospital gown she’s wearing. A multitude of tubes and needles are stuck in her arms but she hardly notices as she moves on, looking around the room like everything will make sense once she does, until her gaze settles on-

“Alex.”

Her voice is weak and it hurts to say anything, her throat dry and aching from not being used, but she doesn’t care. She reaches out for them, only to fall back against the bed when that sudden bout of strength leaves her.

They stare at her, not fully believing that she’s awake, but then they grab her hand- covered in bandages- and squeeze, so tight she might wince if she had the energy to. Her vision blurs a little, but she hangs on, refusing to slip away again, not before she’s had a chance to talk with them.

“MC... you’re awake, thank the gods. I- I’m so sorry,” they say, their voice breaking as tears begin to crawl down their cheeks. “I should’ve been there. I should have gone with you.”

She makes a sound of protest, and rubs her thumb over their knuckles, shaking her head.

“Don’t. Wasn’t your fault.”

Alex looks like they’re about to argue, but they take one look at her face, all the resolve she has, and slumps in their seat. They don’t seem convinced, but she’s thankful they’ll at least wait for her to feel better before they bring it up any more.

“I’m so glad you’re awake.” They swallow, and their next words come out in a whisper as they press their lips to her hand. “I couldn’t stand to lose you. I... just want you to know that.”

Warmth radiates from their sweet, gentle kiss, coursing through her body in a comforting way, so unlike their mother’s power. Where her energy had burned and blazed, Alex’s soothes and comforts.

“I’m okay now,” she says, trying to comfort them in return. She takes a painful breath- even that is starting to hurt more. But still she hangs on, not quite ready to leave them again. “Is the Heart...”

“It’s back with my mother,” they answer her, knowing where her question would go. They look back up at her, searching her face for... something. She thinks they must find it, because they continue after a short minute. “Deukalion was captured. He had a breakdown when he was hauled up to Olympus- or so I heard. I came here with you after arranging for the Heart’s safe travel back. The gods... are working to rehabilitate him. Once they realized he was lashing out from pain they inflicted ages ago, it only seemed right.”

“That... That’s good,” she murmurs, and takes another ragged breath. Her vision swims, and she can feel her grasp on consciousness fading again. “‘M glad he’s getting help...”

“MC?” they ask, concern bleeding into their voice and expression both.

She blinks, slow, her eyelids heavy.

“Alex... wait for me?”

She watches them, watches their breath hitch and the tears come faster- and then they smile, and it hurts her heart in such a way that she knows they mean their next words with their entire soul.

“Always. I will always wait for you. No matter how long it takes,” they promise, leaning forward to place a kiss on her forehead. It settles something in her, and all that pain washes away as her eyes slip close.

On the edge of consciousness, just before she falls over, she hears them say one last thing.

“Rest, now. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

And then she falls.

And falls.

Until she’s back in their odd nothingness.

“Hera..?” she calls out, hesitant.

The goddess doesn’t respond, but MC can feel her there, in that same familiarity that carried through her voice before.

It’s almost comforting, to know she’s not truly alone.

She doesn’t try speaking to her again. Part of her wants to, but something intrinsic tells her that everything’s okay as it is, and she believes it. Maybe, she thinks, the goddess is resting, too.

At some point, she begins to stir again, or at least, it’s a similar feeling. Images flash before her very eyes, but something isn’t quite right about them.

They’re all painted in hues of red or pink, burning hot, deafening her with the sound of a beating heart. It pounds through her mind and her bones and her blood, calling to her in a way that makes fear clench at her heart. It’s like that moment with Deukalion, when all she wanted to do was run, but this is inside her head, and there’s nowhere for her to go.

Echoes of memories long past, that don’t belong to her, or even Hera, she thinks, fly across her vision- a man with a cruel smile that turned sweet for only her, an argument between her and her children, sorrow and loneliness emphasized by her empty estate, a child with bright eyes that hold a familar edge to them, hope and love that twists into grief when her mother dies, pain when she has to punish her youngest child.

“Aphrodite,” she gasps out, wincing as the pain doubles, bearing down on her, crushing her.

And almost as suddenly as it came on, it stops. Red is overrun by gold, its warmth kinder, reminiscent of the aura from her ring. It washes away all traces of those memories that had clung to her, and she feels lighter for it, as if that terrible darkness she existed in was receding at last.

Whatever traces of Aphrodite’s power were left in her fade away. It’s easier to breathe and she feels stable again. There’s a rumble from all around her, but she isn’t afraid of it, and trusts that when it washes over her, it’s doing something good.

It seeps down into her bones, gentle, and as it does, something in her heals. The shadows of pain that had been haunting her are chased away, and she finally feels whole again.

Golden feathers float past her, brushing against her skin, beckoning her to follow. She does, walking with them until the light of the aura blinds her completely, and the world lurches around her.

One thought strikes her before she leaves- Hera. She was gone.

And then, she opens her eyes, and the world is more clear than it’s ever been,

Alex smiles down at her, eyes twinkling, and she braves a smile back. It’s easy this time, not draining at all- she feels refreshed.

“MC.”

They reach forward and take her hand in theirs, but there’s no painful squeeze- only joy that she’s awake again.

Their aura jumps from their fingertips to her own, and hers does the same, and it comes with the realization that her aura truly feels like her aura, now. Not something that comes from just a ring.

“Alex,” she breathes, and every worry she’s held onto since the art gala leaves her, nothing but pure, unadulterated joy in its place.

They push the call button on the bed so that a doctor can come in, but they take every second before their privacy is interrupted to kiss her- tenderly, with all the care and love in the world behind it.

When they pull away, they run their thumb across her cheeks, wiping away tears she didn’t know she’d been crying. They look at her as if she were the only other person in the world, and maybe, for that short little moment, she was.

“Welcome back, MC.”

Nearly sobbing at their greeting, a fresh wave of tears come down her face, but they’re happy ones. She smiles so wide that it hurts as she reaches up with her free hand to cup their cheek.

“Thank you.” For waiting. For being here. She doesn’t say it, but she knows they know.

And then, they say something that catches her off-guard.

Words she’s waited a lifetime to hear, that send her heart beating wildly.

“I love you.”

#lovestruck #lovestruck voltage #alex cyprin #alex x mc #afk mc #astoria: fate's kiss #afk deukalion #deukalion #alex #cyprin #afk cyprin #afk alex #my fic

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