#but yeah if anyone wants to see speed draws of past art just ask! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

moonlightperseus · 5 months

Note

I get that. I was kind of like "it won't be good, bit it WILL be babs" and that was almost enough for me. I tried. I just didn't succeed.

I am an hour away from finishing the Graceling audio book and I just? Cannot get myself to listen to it. I had to renew it just for AN HOUR. That's my biggest issue with audio books. But everyone's different. I understand you liking them for long drives.

I liked seeing Dinah have a mom lmao. That was literally my favorite part I don't even remember what else happened.

That's fine I haven't continued bombshells. We're in this together 💔 I'm glad you're enjoying the others though!! I forgot actually that I was going to look into buying my brother a zatanna comic for Christmas. So thank you for accidentally reminding me.

I went to them a lot when I was little because all of my big siblings were super into them but then I stopped for a while and only wanted to go this year for art I didn't buy. They ARE fun but also yeah I spent like a solid 4 hours too overwhelmed and just not wanting to be there.

And I DID draw her. I hate it, because I'm not good at what I do. But the cosplayer did lead to me drawing a Dinah and posting her on my silly little art account.

The delay is fine dw. We're equally bad at being timely it seems.

I will just add a quick note though: I was scrolling through Amazon and saw leverage and I ALMOST watched it because of you. (until I remembered that I am a disaster and cannot sit through a single episode of anything and it was a lost cause)

i would like to apologize because it has been basically 2 weeks since i received this ask. i apologize. i have been busy and tired 😔

oh yeah i def have a harder time remembering to read audiobooks when i’m just chilling at home. it’s like. yeah i could put my headphones on and listen while i do chore stuff but that requires me to motivate myself to do said chore stuff 😭 sometimes i’ll listen to audiobooks when i’m alone at work (sometimes it’s a little hard when dogs are barking) or when i go on a walk with my dog and that’s been helping me with reading outside of just long car rides.

i think i started the annual of injustice2 before i went on my unintentional comic break (had a friends wedding and just Life happening) but i need to actually commit to continuing my read. for a little bit before my break i had started on some of the old dc/marvel amalgam comic specials because i think the concept of mashing characters together, especially from different comic universes, is really fun.

oh!! so i was away at the beach for my friends wedding (wild that i am old enough that the friends my age are getting married.) but while we were there my family went to a flea market and i found some of the old guard tales through time comics for 2$ each and i bought three of them. i haven’t cracked any of them open or even taken them out of their plastic sleeves yet but i’m proud of myself for getting them bc they are used (though in pretty good condition) i’m not a fan of the traditional tog comic art but, at least for the one joenicky one, the art is a lot more my speed. and i got the andy and nile cover ones too because. women.

i think i would like to go to a comic con eventually. at some point. a smaller con though probably.

if you ever feel like sharing i would love to see ur art/art account!!

omg i love that you associate me w leverage. i do LOVE that show and heavily recommend it to anyone seeking out a new show but i completely understand you not seeking out a show rn! (if u ever do feel like checking it out i would love to hear ur thoughts but no pressure)

hope you have been doing well in these past two weeks and i promise i will try to not unintentionally ghost you again for two weeks i really kept meaning to reply to this ask but also kept forgetting 😔

#comics anon #anon #abby replies

1 note · View note

thewritetofreespeech · 3 years

Text

MC + Cursed Toddler-fied Boys

prompt: All the boys suffer the same fate as Satan by reading ‘The Forbidden Book of Toddlerization’

Lucifer

You have to wonder why they kept so many cursed books around, just out like this. You would think, like any normal person, with this continuing to happen, that they would keep them locked up or something. But no. They just leave them out for anyone to find….

“I’m going to the meeting!” Lucifer yelled, stamping his foot. His face twist in a petulant frown. It would be rather adorable, if you hadn’t been arguing with him for the past 20 minutes

“Lucifer, we talked about this. You can’t go to the meeting. You need to stay here.”

“No! I wanna go to the meeting! It’s very important and everyone is counting on me!” His arms are wailing now as he stamped his foot more.

Of course, you couldn’t let him go to the first of the month meeting like this. His pride would be wounded beyond compare if anyone else saw him like this. But reasoning with him wasn’t working. You had to resort to more, unsavory tactic to win. “But the meeting was cancelled. Lord Diavolo called earlier to let me know.”

Lucifer stopped stamping his feet and waving his arms to look at you with a vacant expression you didn’t know he could muster. “Really?”

Gods help you. “Yes, really.”

He seemed to think about this for a moment before he beamed, “ok!” His mood instantly brightening. “I believe you, because [Y/N] would never lie to me.” ‘Forgive me Lucifer’ You think to yourself. “What are we gonna do instead then?”

“Why don’t we play a game instead to pass the time? Would you like that?”

“I know chess!” He exclaimed loudly. “Let’s play that.”

Of course, knowing and being good at it were two different things. In this state you were actually able to beat Lucifer several times. When he retuned to normal the day was ‘conveniently’ put away for sometime after.

Mammon

“Mammon. Please. I’ll just be gone for a minute.”

“Nooooooo!” Mammon wailed when you tried to get up again. Clinging to your waist tightly to keep you on the couch. “Onii-chan said you had to stay with me! Stay with me! Stay with me!”

After reading The Forbidden Book of Toddlerization, Mammon had, of course, reverted to the personality of a small child. His brother made fun of him, say ‘what’s the difference’, but Lucifer knew that this could be a disaster if he was set to wander free in this state across the Devildom. So he sat you to babysit him.

“Mammon, I promise I’ll be right back. I’m just going to get us some snacks for our movie.”

“Then let me come with you!” He whined, still clinging to you. In this state it seemed he had also taken on the personality of a baby duck. Imprinting on you and following you around everywhere you went in his room. He hadn’t left you alone for 5 seconds since he got this way. “I promise I’ll be good!”

“It’s not a question of you being good or bad Mammon-chan.” He liked to be called Mammon-chan right now. “It’s that you need to stay here. If someone sees you like this well…they could use it to tease you.”

“No…I don’t want to be teased anymore….” His voice was low, and sad. His bright eyes looking on the verge of tears, like kids do when they’re said, before he buried his face into your side. “Mammon-chan doesn’t want to be made fun of anymore. Mammon-chan also doesn’t want to be alone anymore.”

You sigh. Unable to argue with him when he was like this. Your hand lifted to pet his head, which he seemed to appreciate, before you text Satan to bring you some snacks. He was always reliable and would do it for you.

Once the affects of the book had worn off, Mammon denied any of this happening. The mere mention would cause his face to turn red and yell about how, “that didn’t happen!” You almost wish you had taken a video of it to show him. Guess you would just have to keep Mammon-chan forever in your heart.

Levi

You went to Levi’s room after class to check on him in his….condition.

Since he did remote learning a lot of the time, being an otaku, it was pretty easy to keep him away from people so they did see him in the current state he was in. Apparently as a toddler he didn’t like being around people either.

So, you had set him up comfortably in his room before heading to class. Promising to come back that afternoon to be with him.

“Levi! I’m back! How are you—what are you doing?!?!”

“Playing with my toys.” Levi replied, with an obvious expression, as a sea of toys stretch out in front of him where he laid on his belly on the floor.

Your brain stopped. Completely at a loss for words. Levi was going to kill you when he returned to normal, because toddler-Levi, left unattended, had unboxed nearly all of his figurines from their packaging. Some of which were incredibly rare, and unable to get anymore.

“I just…I mean…Why?? Why would you do this??”

“They’re my toys.” Levi replied with a pout. Sitting up. “I can do what I want with them. What’s the point in having neat toys if you aren’t going to play with them??”

He did have a point there. But adult-Levi was going to be so mad!

“Do you want to play with me?” The demon asked with a hopeful expression. “You can even be blue Ruri-chan.” The limited edition, color swap Ruri-chan from 1999. He was gonna blow a gasket!

“Yeah. Ok.” But then again, when were you ever going to be able to touch them again.

As expected, Levi totally lost it when he came to his senses. Of course, there was no one to blame but himself, in the end, so he just had to be upset and mope alone. Thankfully, none of them were broken or beyond just out of their originally packaging. He bought them all clear showcase boxes for his ‘ruined’ figurines. Some of them he could rebuy to replace; which seemed to make him happy to have two.

Satan

It had been hours since the affects of the book had taken ahold of Satan. You were starting to wonder if they would ever wear off.

Lucifer had left in search of another book, one that might help speed the process along, and left his younger brother in your care. Of course you were happy to help, but you were getting nervous you would never see the old Satan again.

“[Y/N]-chan?” You look up from your phone, waiting for Lucifer to text you back, to see the blonde demon looking timidly at you from around the corner.

“What is it Satan?”

“Would you….read to me?” His hands holding out the small children’s book he had some how found in the piles of books covering his room.

You smile softly at him. Your heart warmed by his request. “Of course,” you tell him, and the demon scampered over to sit on the bed beside you. His long legs and body tucked neatly into you as he waited for you to tell him the story of a little lost chicken and it’s journey back home. “[Y/N] tells the best stories!”

After 3 stories, he had fallen asleep. When he woke up, Satan was back to normal. He doesn’t answer your questions on where the children’s books had come from, but you spot the red & gold spines on his book shelves sometimes.

Asmo

There was no denying that Asmo was fascinated by art and all things beautiful. He went on and on about it any chance he got. So you shouldn’t have really been surprised when his toddlerfied self just wanted to draw all day.

“Look, look [Y/N]-chan! I finished another one!”

“That’s great Asmo.” You praise. Just like you had done with all the other ones he had handed to you. “Wow! This is really great! Is that a….chicken?”

“No, silly! That’s the white horse for our carriage when we get married!” The demon beamed, then shuffled over on his knees to instruct you on his picture properly. “That’s you, and that’s me. That’s the princess carriage that’s going to ride us off into the sunset. That’s Solomon and Simeon throwing flowers at us. That’s my brothers crying because I got to marry [Y/N]-chan and they didn’t.”

“You certainly seem to have all the parts here.” You praise. Giggling at his enthusiasm and picture.

“I want to have a perfect picture of when we get married. Because I love [Y/N]-chan! And we’re gonna get married and live happily ever after.” He replied, with certainty, with a smile.

“Well, I’ll be glad for that. Why don’t you draw me our perfect house for after we get married?” Asmo scampered off and did just that.

When Asmo came to, and back to his normal self, he took all the pictures he had drawn and framed them. Forcing his brothers and Solomon to take a tour of his mini-art gallery. The piece ‘Marriage of Two Bonded Souls’ was met with some controversy.

Beel

Beel, in his younger days, seemed to have boundless energy. Or you at least had to assume he did, because ever since he had read that stupid book he had been running around.

Lucifer had told you to take him outside. Irritated at hearing his large feet clump around the house, but trying not to show it since it wasn’t his fault. He even let you both take Cerberus outside to help run Beel out. It would be good for the pup too. Get some exercise, he said.

That had been sometime ago, and it seemed baby-Beel and Cerberus were an even match in energy. They had been running around, chasing each other, and play fighting in the back yard all afternoon. You were tired just watching them.

“Beel! Do you want to come in? I think it’s time for a break.”

Both Beel and Cerberus pop their heads up, in a comical and adorable unison head tilt, before jogging over to you. “Break time means snack time right?!”

You chuckle a little. Somethings never changed. “I brought some apple slices & peanut butter for you, for now. We can get you something bigger when we go inside.”

Beel grinned and sat in the grass with the container. “I like apple slices!”

“You do hn?” You don’t think you’ve seen Beel eat an actual fruit on its own. It was usually attached to, baked in, or covered in something, to get him to eat it.

“Yep! They’re crunchy and sweet. Just like you! Though, I guess you aren’t crunchy. Do you want one of my apple slices [Y/N]?”

You blush a little at Beel’s bright, unwavering expression. How could he look so innocent while still looking like that?

He finished his apple slices, minus one, before asking if he could go play again. You let him, but then all of a sudden he spotted playing with Cerberus and stood straight up. Seeming confused on how he got out here and what was going on. “Did I eat an apple? I haven’t had one since….do you think we have more in the kitchen?”

Belphie

It was honestly hard to tell if Belphie was under the spell of the forbidden book or not. He’d been asleep for most of the time; which was not uncommon for him. Then he would wake up and whine a little about something; again, not uncommon for him. Then he would take another nap.

You had figure out that he was still under it’s spell by the requests he was making when he woke up. Juice boxes. More plushies. His ‘blankie’. Eventually it would run its course though, and Belphie would be back to his own sleepy eyed, grown up self. “[Y/N]?”

You walk over to the bed when the demon called your name. The boy half sitting up, but still tucked under his covers. “What is it Belphie?”

“I can’t sleep.” He stated. Which seemed ridiculous since he had been sleeping most of the day. “I miss Lilli. And Be-be. Can you sleep with me?��

You blink at little at the request. You supposed it made since. Kids often wanted someone to sleep with them, so they didn’t have bad dreams or could keep them safe. Maybe that’s why he had been sleeping so much. Because he hadn’t been sleeping well, just sleep.

“Sure Belphie. I’ll lay down with you.” The demon smiled softly, sleepy, before he scooted over to give you some space to lay next to him.

He slept for a while this last time. Clinging onto you in his sleep, with a soft smile on his face. When he woke up, it seemed he was back to normal. “Gosh [Y/N]. If you wanted to sleep with me, all you had to do was ask. You didn’t have to trick me with that lame book.”

626 notes · View notes

bestiesenpai · 3 years

Text

tattoo artist sukuna

I am way overdo to get my sleeve finished and I’m already itching to get a full back piece, so this is right up my alley. Gender neutral reader, and if you’d like to see the tattoo style i reference please go to @/novchild.jpg on instagram :)

It was a spur of the moment decision that led you to drive downtown with your friends at nearly midnight, drunk off each other's energy and eager to do something reckless. Speeding down the motorway, you scrolled through Instagram in search of a tattoo artist.

“Are you guys sure about this?” Your nerves had finally caught up to you as the car was parked in front of the studio you all chose. It was a typical brick and mortar building with a large skull painted on the only window to the outside world. There were a few bald men smoking cigarettes right outside the door, scrawling ink covering their exposed hands and faces.

“Yeah, c’mon!” No one waited for you, everyone climbing out of the car in excitement. Slowly, you got out of the car as well, head down as you walked past the men and into the shop.

Loud, blaring metal music met your ears, jarring you upright and tense. There wasn’t anyone you could see at the front desk, the only workers were huddled in a back corner leaning over something and laughing.

“Which one should I get?” Your attention was drawn away from the men in the corner and to the art hanging on the wall, all different flash sheets from various artists. Some were more gory, clearly drawing inspiration from horror movies while other pieces were bright and colorful, like bubblegum pop come to life.

“Hey.” A gruff voice cut through the loud music, and a man was now leaning against the front desk, spiky black hair in a ponytail with a bored look on his face and several piercings in both ears. He was clearly sizing you up, the black bar going across his nose moving as he did.

Unprepared to speak to him, you were happy when someone else stepped in and started chatting about prices. The man at the counter had on a hoodie with the sleeves rolled up, exposing one full arm and hand that was completely blacked out.

“Choso, any customers?” Another shouted, a man wide in stature with long hair. He sauntered up to the counter, tight black t-shirt showing off the traditional Japanese work covering every inch of skin.

“Getou, can’t you see?” Choso rolled his eyes and gestured to your little group.

“I can’t make conversation?” Pulling a face at Choso, Getou leaned his elbows on the counter and flashed a wide grin at all of you. “So, who’s the first to get some ink?” His narrowed eyes looked over your bare skin and you could see the wheels turning in his head.

“I am! I want that one!” One of your friends pointed at the wall, making Getou hum and nod.

“That’s Gojo’s work, he loves to draw the cute shit. I’ll call him over.” As a white haired man walked over at Geto’s call, one by one your friends made their decisions and were paired with artists.

“What did you choose, (Y/N)?” A friend asked, seeing you still stuck staring at the wall.

“I don’t know!” Throwing your head back, you were beginning to regret even tagging along. There were simply too many options and the task of picking something was daunting.

“Having a hard time choosing?” A flash of white crosses your vision and soon Gojo is leaning down into your field of vision, piercing blue eyes staring at you curiously.

“U-uh yeah.” Stumbling back from how close his face is, you realize how tall he is when he stands up straight, hands shoved into his pockets.

“Me and another guy just got done making a new flash sheet, lemme show you.” It takes him only a couple seconds to go back to his station and come back with a piece of thick paper with drawings on it.

Taking the paper, the drawings were unexpectedly cute. A lot of them looked like rough sketches or crayon drawings, simple in concept but intricate in detail.

“I’ll take this one.” Pointing at a mid-sized crayon drawing, your mouth ticked up in a smile as Gojo took the paper from you with sparkling eyes.

“That one is so cute, good choice! One sec!” Tossing the paper down, he dashes away shouting nonsensical words towards the back of the shop where they’d all been huddled up. “Sukuna! Someones here for ya!”

Rising straight up from a chair with a loud groan, a shirtless pink haired man glared sharply at Gojo. Even from a distance you can see the sharp black lines tattooed across his face and down his body, circles on each shoulder, dashed lines across his chest down his stomach and around his wrists as well.

“Geez you can really yell, you know that?” Running a hand through his hair roughly, Sukuna stands up, flexing his muscles and unknowingly giving the whole shop a show of his chiseled physique.

“There’s a client here to get a piece we made together earlier.” Shoving the paper in his face, Gojo points to the piece you selected. Sukuna mumbles a few words and sets his eyes on you, walking over with a swagger that makes you nervous.

“Alright, where do you want it?” Leaning close to you, Sukuna quirks a brow.

“I don’t know.” You sigh softly, looking down at your arms and legs. “I don’t-”

“Your arm, right here.” Grabbing onto your arm, Sukuna turns it outward to expose the flesh of your inner arm. “It would look good right here, about the size of my palm.”

“O-oh okay.” Nodding quickly, your face is burning when he lets go. His touch still lingered on your skin, the edge of his black painted fingernails digging in briefly as they squeezed you.

“I’ll be ready in ten minutes, go sign the paperwork.” Sukuna speaks with his back to you, already walking to the station he had been sleeping at and setting up. Rushing to fill in the proper papers, you wait nervously at the front of the shop for your turn.

The rest of your friends are already getting started, the whir of the tattoo machines adding to the ambience of the shop. With a wave Sukuna calls you over to his corner, still shirtless with a pair of gloves on.

“Hold out your arm.” Grabbing you once again, Sukuna angles your arm in front of a mirror by the table. Rubbing ointment on your skin, he sticks the stencil on and rubs firmly, making you squirm from the tickle of his hand getting close to your armpit.

“What do you think?” Stepping to the side, he looks at you in the mirror. “Little to the left? Right?”

“No, it’s perfect.” The longer you look at it, the longer you love it. Giving you a pat on the shoulder, Sukuna led you to the table, having you lay down and stick your arm out.

“This your first one, I can tell.” He said, adjusting your body how he seemed fit and rubbing more ointment on you.

“It’s that obvious?”

“Oh yeah, only a first timer would get something like this from me.” A cocky grin spread across his face and he gestured to the wall behind your head, covered in realistic black and white portraits. “This is normally my speciality.”

“You drew yourself?” Pointing up at one of the pictures that looked exactly like him minus the face tattoos, you chuckled.

“Nah, that’s my twin.” Your brows rose in surprise and you looked between Sukuna and the picture.

“Does he have-?” You waved over your face and body.

“He’s too scared to get a tattoo, says he’ll get ink poisoning and die.” Sukuna laughed, pouring out the various colored ink into little cups. “Won’t even let me do a tiny dot on him!”

“Safe to say you two are pretty different then.” You found yourself laughing a little as well, eased at Sukunas laid back nature.

“Mhmm, he’s busy going on the straight and narrow while I’m here ‘ruining my body’ as our grandpa likes to say.” Flashing quick air quotes, Sukuna revs up the machine and fiddles with the buttons. “Alright, you ready for this? Won’t have virgin skin anymore after this.”

“Yes!” Clenching and unclenching your fist, you pushed a deep breath through your mouth.

“If you start to cry, I won’t stop. And if you pass out, I’ll just wake you up.” That was his final warning before he leaned forward, using one large gloved hand to spread the skin of your arm taut.

The first prick of the needle against your skin made you jolt, sucking in a sharp breath and making your eyes fly open. Sukuna snorted, wiped your arm with a towel and kept going. Honing in on the marks and exposed pipes in the ceiling, you tried not to twitch from the needle anymore.

“You’re doing pretty well.” Sukuna mumbled, briefly sitting up and dipping in for more ink.

“Really?” Taking a look at the tattoo, you were surprised to see only one line had been done. It felt like at least three were placed into you.

“Yeah, don’t screw it up.” Sticking his tongue out at you, Sukuna went back to work. Transfixed on watching him, you saw the lines go into your skin, overflowing with ink and being wiped away repeatedly. You were also watching the way Sukuna’s arms flexed, the muscles in his body all on display right in front of you.

“Tell me about yourself while you stare at me.” Sukuna said, not looking up from your arm. Immediately, your head whipped away from him and a deep burn ran over your face. Sukuna laughed at your embarrassment, patting your arm with the paper towel a few times.

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay, you’re not the first one to do it.” That didn’t make it any better. Slapping a hand over your face, you let out an unintelligible noise from the back of your throat.

“Just great.”

“It’s okay to say you have a crush on me, a lot of people that come to the shop do.”

“Sukuna!” Laughing through the shame, you glanced over at him.

“Hey, it’s the truth.” He shrugged nonchalantly.

“Well can you blame them when you’re built like that?” Feeling emboldened by the late night hour, you took a rather obvious look at Sukuna’s body. With only a pair of sweatpants on, you could see nearly all the tattoos he had.

“Aw thanks doll, I work out.” Sukuna shot a wink at you, briefly flexing both arms and making you blush again. “But enough about me, what about you? What made you come here so late at night?”

“My friends and I wanted to do something spontaneous.” Returning your gaze to the ceiling, the ache from the tattoo gun was beginning to settle into your skin. “And what better way to be spontaneous than to get a tattoo?”

“Ha, I hear that.”

“Why’d you get the ones on your face and stuff?”

“Thought they’d make me look cool, and I was right.” Giggling at his honesty, you quickly nodded in agreement.

“The ones on your face, did they hurt really bad?”

“The ones near my eyes yeah, those hurt the most. But thankfully Choso has a steady hand, so it didn’t last too long.”

Absentmindedly, you ran your fingers over your own face, drawing along the edge of your jaw and eye socket. There was no way you could get your face tattooed as heavily as Sukuna had, if at all ever. You had only just now gotten used to the pain of the needle on your arm and you were still twitching every so often.

“How’re you holding up so far?” Sukuna whispers close to your ear ten quiet minutes later. He’s completely focused on tattooing you yet his face is close enough that if you leaned up a little, you could graze his hair with your nose.

“Fine.” You whisper back, suddenly feeling awkward with the low tone of his voice.

“That’s good doll, real good.” His voice dropped even lower, overcompensating for the song ending over the stereo speakers. Trying not to stare at his serious expression, you look over at the other stations. Gojo is chatting up your friend excitedly, and there’s a number of colorful inks laid out before him. Choso and Geto are hard at work as well, with Choso pointedly not speaking, and a blonde man you’d noticed drinking a large mug of black coffee earlier with his button up sleeve rolled up to reveal two dragons on his forearms.

Just as the pain in your arm was starting to truly burn, the tattoo was over. Sukuna washed it down gently, patting your arm and humming to the song playing. Sitting up with a short grunt, he flicked his head to the mirror.

“Go ahead and take a look.”

Sliding slowly off the table, you held your arm out awkwardly and stood in front of the mirror. Your arm was slightly swollen and stinging, shoulder stiff from being in the same position for so long, but a smile spread on your cheeks.

“I love it.” It looked exactly like the picture: a crayon style drawing of a brown haired girl in a giant green frog, a big pout on her lips while the frog sat on a lily pad.

“Lemme snap a couple quick photos before I wrap you up.” Already with his phone out, Sukuna was quick at taking pictures, posing you like when he’d put the stencil on. “I’ll run down the aftercare stuff with you, also give you a card in case you forget any of it.”

You didn’t hear a thing he said about aftercare. Standing nearly chest to chest with Sukuna while he rubbed ointment on your skin and wrapped your tattoo up, the way his arms nearly wrapped around you to put the cover on, the gentle touch of his fingers pressing medical tape to your skin, even the way he was breathing softly and looking at you - it all had you distracted.

“Alright, you’re all done.” Sukuna patted your arm, breaking you from your trance.

“Thank you so much!” Looking down at your tightly bandaged arm, you could feel the intense heat radiating out of it. You quickly snapped your own picture of the bandage as Sukuna dug around in a drawer.

“And since I could tell you were zoning the fuck out just now, I wrote my number down on the aftercare sheet, so text me if you have any questions.” Holding the paper out to you, Sukuna had indeed scribbled his phone number on the paper in thick black marker.

“Can I really just text you?” Taking the paper hesitantly, you fiddled with it in your hands.

“Of course! I want your tattoo to heal well!” Sukuna nodded, throwing his arms out dramatically. Waiting for you to gather your stuff, he walked you to the front of the shop. “Text me anytime doll, I stay up late.” He whispered right before you got to the front counter, making your jaw drop and ears burn.

“(Y/N), you really got a girl in a frog?” A friend laughed, a bandage wrapped around their thigh.

“It’s cute!” You defended it, holding your arm close to your body.

“The cutest fucking one.” Sukuna added on, slapping the counter and pointing at everyone.

“Aren’t you cold without a shirt on?” Choso mumbled, typing away on his phone in the corner.

“No ‘cause I’m not anemic like you are.”

“It’s still cold outside.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s cold in here!” The two of them quickly devolved into petty squabble, giving each other light hearted shoves in the shoulder while Geto collected the money from everyone.

“Bye, thank you so much!” You all called out as you left, waving goodbye and shrugging your jackets back on.

“I’ll be waiting for that text, doll!” Sukuna shouted right as you stepped out, blowing you a kiss when you whipped your head over your shoulder in shock.

“Text? Were you flirting with him?” A slew of curious looks were thrown your way, making your shock even worse.

“N-no!” You stuttered and immediately grimaced at it, face getting warmer as you climbed into the car. “We were just talking while he tattooed me, he just wants to make sure it heals right.”

“Mhmm, whatever you say. Let’s go to the drive through now, Geto told me to eat something after getting tattooed!”

“Hey check Sukuna’s Instagram story, he already posted your tattoo (Y/N)!”

“Really?” Rushing to pull out your phone, it was indeed true. Sukuna had posted one of the pictures he took of your arm, a few silly frog gifs surrounding it, with the caption ‘painted a pretty doll with a pretty frog, hope they come back for more xx’.

“You two were definitely flirting!” Shouts resounded in the car, everyone giggling wildly at the caption. Giggling along with them, you quickly typed a message to Sukuna.

(Y/N): hey Sukuna this is (Y/N). Thanks again for the frog! And the picture you posted on your story looks really good :)

(Sukuna): no problem doll

(Sukuna): next time you want a tattoo, text me and i’ll draw up whatever you want

“Sukuna said he wanted to tattoo me again!” You announced to your friends, all of them oohing and crowding around your phone. “What should I say?”

“I’ll do it!” Someone snatched your phone before you could say anything, rapidly shooting off a message and tossing the device back to you.

(Y/N): are you free tomorrow?

“He’s not gonna-” Right as you were beginning to shake your head and type another message, he replied.

(Sukuna): for you? of course

#jujutsu kaisen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #jujutsu kaisen scenarios #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen imagines

563 notes · View notes

mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

The Bargain Pt 8 | Feysand

Modern AU. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9

Feyre stared and stared.

Rhys went red and tried to yank his sleeve back down, but Feyre reached out and took a hold of his arm. Turned it over in her hand, inspecting the pop of colour amongst the sharp black lines that lived there. Although she had drawn the design a whole year ago, the swaths of red, orange and green were still intimately familiar.

And then she suddenly remembered signing her name. Flipped his wrist over thinking surely not- but there was her scrawled signature just under his palm.

Rhys pulled his hand back uncomfortably.

"Shit, Feyre," he said. "I'm so sorry." "You... you tattooed my drawings?" "I honestly didn't think I'd see you again. You must think I'm an absolute creep."

Feyre opened and closed her mouth, in shock.

"When?" she asked. "Uh, maybe four months ago?" Rhys guessed. "Not right away. You left, and the drawings faded but I liked them so much I kept tracing them back on. And then I had traced the so many times my hands learned them, so months later I could still remake them from memory.

"One day I had a cancellation and I was sitting there bored, and I just did them on a whim. I hadn't heard from you and I assumed you'd decided you didn't want to be friends after all. But I should have told you, should have asked you first. I'm so sorry." Rhys reached for her hands, and looked at her with pleading eyes.

Feyre's jaw snapped shut.

"That... is... awesome," she said finally. Rhys blinked at her.

"It is?" "That is so cool, I can't believe you did that!" Feyre grabbed his arm back and took another look. His golden-brown skin was satiny beneath her fingers. "You even tattooed my stupid signature!"

Rhys coloured again.

"Yeah well, it was sort of part of the design, and it doesn’t look like a word. I didn't mean to like, stamp your name on me, that's so weird.” "No," Feyre disagreed. "I mean yeah, a little, but also I'm so honoured. And it can't be that weird, because I have your art tattooed on me too." Rhys laughed. "Well I guess that's true."

Feyre held her arm next to his.

"We permanently marked each other," she said in wonder, and then looked up at him, and found him staring back at her. Closer than she realised.

"No wonder we found each other again," Rhys said softly.

A minute or so passed before Feyre noticed they had been kneeling on the concrete, just staring at each other. She pulled her arm back, and Rhys cleared his throat. They stood up, and then moved about collecting their paints.

Like any other day, they loaded everything back into Feyre's car, but after the revelation of Rhys' tattoo, and the completion of the mural, Feyre didn't quite know how to drive away. So instead, she said, "Rhys? Do you... do you want to hang out tonight?"

Rhys put his hands in his pockets and tilted his head to one side.

"You're not scared off by my stalker tattoos?"

Feyre shook her head.

"Then yeah. Yeah I do."

Feyre smiled. "Okay," she said nervously. "Should we meet up later?"

Rhys shrugged. "I have no plans. I don't know anyone else in this city, remember?" "Oh yeah," Feyre said. "Well. I don't have any plans either. Do you... want to come home with me?"

Rhys' eyes darkened, and suddenly he looked positively dangerous.

"Are you asking me back to your place?" he asked. Feyre rolled her eyes to hide the fact that her heart was speeding up.

"Okay now I think you're a creep," she said. "Come on." She tossed her head toward the front of the car, then got in the driver's side while Rhys laughed. A second later, Rhys slid into the passenger seat.

He shut the door and the outside world was cut off. The silence was suddenly quite loud. Feyre looked at him, his long frame squished into her tiny car that she could have sworn was bigger this morning. He seemed to fill the space with his legs, with his shoulders. After days of sharing a wide open space, he was suddenly everywhere in this crammed little capsule. She wondered if her breathing sounded as loud to him as it did to her right now.

She looked away, and started the engine. The noise cut into the quiet that had wrapped around them, and felt like it gave them a little more room. She tried not to look at him as she drove, tried to speak but suddenly couldn’t think of anything to say. Rhys started humming under his breath, and Feyre bit her cheek to hide her smile.

Feyre's apartment was not far. It was why she had turned down Tarquin's offer to stay in the hotel where Rhys had been put up. They pulled up at her block, parked, and then each picked up a box of paints to carry up to Feyre's place.

She walked ahead of Rhys, listening to the syncopated rhythm of his footsteps echoing on the stairs behind hers, and felt nervous. Felt silly for feeling nervous, and had to remind herself that they were just going to sit up in her apartment drinking tea, nothing scandalous or nervous-making about it.

Still, it was the first time she had been alone with a man in her house since she and Tamlin had split up.

And for all the times she had scrolled through Rhys’ Instagram, she never thought he’d be here.

"So, this is me," Feyre said, setting her box down on the kitchen counter. Rhys did the same, while Feyre took her coat off and draped it over a chair. "You can take a seat while I make tea, if you want. Sorry about the mess."

Rhys smiled at her and wandered toward the couch, looking around as he did and touching a few leaves on her many houseplants.

"Art supplies everywhere?" he said. "Feels like home, to me."

Once the kettle had boiled, Feyre brought their mugs over and sat next to Rhys. She set the tea on the coffee table, amongst a few scattered pads and palettes, and then, unable to drink it while it was so hot, was at a loss of what to do with her hands.

Rhys was not.

"Okay you've seen my new tattoo," he said. "Let's have a look how yours has healed up."

He picked up Feyre's arm, and ran his thumb over the black pattern. She shuffled closer to give him a better look, folding her legs under herself on the seat.

"Anything you'd change now?" Feyre asked him. Rhys shrugged. "Change? No, of course not. But if you were expanding it I'd have ideas." "Oh yeah?" Feyre picked up a ballpoint pen off the table, and handed it to him. "Go on, then." "Alright," Rhys said, "but don't be all obsessive and get my doodles tattooed or anything." He wagged the pen at her. "Just draw, you self-deprecating weirdo."

Rhys chuckled, then pulled the cap off with his teeth and put the pen tip to her skin. His knee knocked against her thigh.

Unlike the last time Rhys inked her, this time of course did not hurt. So Feyre was so much more conscious of his fingers brushing over her skin. Wasn't trying to distract herself from pain, which just left her to stare at Rhys' face while he focused. Slight frown on his brow. Pen lid still in his mouth. Hand holding hers, as he extended the pattern downward past her wrist. She leaned in to see what he was doing, and when he moved his hair tickled her chin.

"There you go," he said eventually. He stopped drawing, but he didn't let go of her fingers.

"I love it," Feyre said, looking at Rhys' lips instead of her arm. "You have to sign your name too, like I did." Rhys found a gap on the outside edge of her wrist, and obliged.

"Now we match," he murmured. He looked up, his face now just inches away. His violet eyes went on forever. His thumb stroked Feyre's palm, and his fingers felt rough and hot in hers. Their tea cooled on the table.

"Why is it," Feyre asked him softly, "that I like my body better once you've changed it?" Rhys hadn't moved, and she hadn’t meant to get so close to him. But here they were. So close she could see the rise and fall of his chest with his breathing. His fingers trailed up a dark line of her tattoo.

"I think you're always perfect," he whispered. Feyre‘s cheeks heated.

"But if I still want your marks on my skin?" she said. "Then I'm at your service." He leaned in even closer, as he followed the pattern up her elbow. "You'll still tattoo me?" Feyre reached out and traced his tattoos, too. "I'd mark you however you'd let me." "And how else would you mark me?" she asked, the words barely making it out. She stared at her name on his wrist. He brushed a thumb down her jaw, and when she looked up his eyes were lidded and on her mouth.

"Well for one," he said, and then tugged her gently toward him and kissed her with his teeth on her bottom lip.

****

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST: @ghostlyrose2 @highladysith @stardelia @feysand-loml @tillyrubes10 @ratabrasileira @live-the-fangirl-life @maybekindasortaace @annejulianneh111 @thebonecarver @rowaelinismyotp @loosingdreams @whythefuckdoiexist @inejsarrow @swankii-art-teacher @sjmships @courtofjurdan @teddytdr @positivewitch @thalia-2-rose @darling-archeron @rapunzel1523 @fairchildjace @philosophorumaurum02 @story-scribbler @allthecolorsneverseen

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #mine #fluff

90 notes · View notes

fantastic-rambles · 3 years

Text

The Snakes’ Deception

Fandom: Haikyuu!! (@aikk00's Racing AU)

Characters (in order of appearance): Kozume Kenma, Kuroo Tetsurou, Yaku Morisuke, Sakishima Isumi, Daishou Suguru, Fukunaga Shouhei, Yamamoto Taketora, Haiba Lev, other Nekoma members (not mentioned by name)

Warnings: Physical Violence, Language

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: When the Snakes, led by Daishou Suguru, come to challenge Kuroo for the title of Drift King, the Nekoma Crew isn’t going to take that lying down. But when the Snakes start to play nasty, the stakes are raised even further, and Kuroo has to fight to stay calm and prove that he’s the undisputed champion.

[A/N: RIP my dozen other drafts for other stories. I actually was planning to write this a few days before the Daishou art (also by aikk00), except I knew practically nothing about drift racing so I needed to do research, lul. I watched Tokyo Drift, some Initial D, some Grand Tour, and did a lot of reading online on drift racing and drifting in general, but tbh, I still don’t quite understand the mechanics (I don’t drive stick and I can’t go out and learn how to drift), so I apologize if this is horribly inaccurate. :P]

"The road condition looks good today, but it's still a little wet from earlier. Watch yourself going into the turns so you don't end up spinning out. The Snakes will probably do something though, especially since they asked you to race with Sakishima before Daishou. It should be okay when you're in the lead, but be ready to take defensive measures when you're chasing. My guess is that they'll try to take advantage of your skill at closing the gap and your power-over drift to orchestrate some sort of accident," Kenma commented quietly without looking up from his laptop, his fingers tapping away as he inputted a continuous stream of data. He seemed oblivious to the roar of the crowd outside the car, and Kuroo reached over to tousle his black-and-gold hair affectionately.

"Got it, Kenma. Anything else?"

"I know you won't listen, but you should just go all-out from the start. Not your usual way of racing. But if you do end up chasing, just do a normal drift and keep space between you and Sakishima. If they are aiming for an accident, it's more likely to happen when you're on the outside, so it'll slam into your side and Sakishima will be safe. But your numbers look good. I'm just going to tell Yaku-san to put a little more air into your rear tires," Kenma replied, closing the lid on his laptop and pushing open the passenger-side door, letting the sound of cheering and taunts into the vehicle. After he'd left and closed the door, Kuroo rolled down his window to light a cigarette, letting the smoke drift out into the night sky. Kenma hadn't said anything that he hadn't expected--especially with regard to the Snakes--but it was always reassuring to get their analyst's perspective before a race. Kenma wasn't the type to get fired up like the rest of the crew, but that cool-headed analysis was part of the reason they were able to climb so high in the rankings despite not always having the best cars or the best drivers. The ridiculous title of "Drift King" that he'd somehow ended up with was the result of Kenma's work as much as his own.

Still, Kenma was right. Even if it meant getting into an accident, Kuroo didn't intend to change the way he drifted. Part of the thrill of these races was the pure adrenaline high from going fast, especially when there was the risk of injury or even death. It was the reason why he'd mastered the power-over drift so that he could keep accelerating through the turn, and swung close enough to his opponents during his chases to make them panic. Even against the Snakes and their underhanded dealings, he'd show them that his way of fighting was still better, no matter what they threw at him.

He looked up when a shadow fell over him as Yaku leaned over his open window, the electric pump in his hand.

"You're good to go, Kuroo. Go ahead and show off," Yaku shouted over the din. Kuroo nodded, flicking his cigarette out the window and rolling up the glass. Yaku stepped back as he revved the engine, pulling up to the starting line where Sakishima was already waiting. Unlike most racers, Kuroo preferred chasing from the start to throw his opponent off his game. Before he'd inherited the title of Drift King, he'd been known as the Comeback Kid for his knack for overcoming what was traditionally seen as an unfavorable position. But the psychological benefit of overtaking the opponent and the pressure it put on the other racer, in addition to his skill with his clean lines and sharp angles that allowed him to do so consistently, had eventually shot him to the top of the Tokyo drifting world.

At the signal, Sakishima peeled past the starting line, and Kuroo quickly shot after him, staying close to his tail as they sped down the course. Even though his heart was racing, his head was completely clear, every sense focused on the view just beyond his windshield. Both he and Kenma were confident that Sakishima wouldn't try anything until the turn, but that was no reason to relax, especially at the speeds that they were going. Still, nothing happened when they reached the first clipping point, and Kuroo's eyes narrowed as he quickly estimated the distances and speeds between their cars, making his calculations swiftly and throwing himself into a drift just a heartbeat after Sakishima.

And it was perfect. His hand rested casually on the wheel as his tires squealed, sending up plumes of smoke as the tail of his car whipped around the curve, flying nearly parallel to Sakishima. The Snake seemed rattled as he spun into the next turn, turning slightly wide as Kuroo effortlessly stuck to him, their cars nearly touching as Kuroo grinned. It was pretty clear already which of them was the better drifter, not that it had ever been a question.

He let the car carry itself into the third point with just a few adjustments on his side, almost laughing as Sakishima had to drag on his own wheel to make the turn. The perfect chance presented itself almost immediately, and he aimed for the gap in Sakishima's barely controlled swing. But then, suddenly, the other car was spinning out as the Snake overcompensated, an out-of-control, two-ton wrecking ball flying toward him.

Kuroo jerked his wheel, pulling himself out of the drift and spinning out himself, the two cars making donuts on the road until he couldn't tell left from right. But the ominous crunch of metal never came, and when his car finally screeched to a stop, Kuroo slapped himself out of the harness and kicked his door open, stepping out onto the asphalt and casting his glare out at the spectators, looking for one specific slit-eyed face in particular.

"Daishou!" he bellowed, stomping toward the crowd and seizing the Snake by the collar, dragging him over the barrier. "What the fuck was that?"

But the other man just stared at him, all wide-eyed innocence. "'What the fuck' was what, Kuroo-san? Isumi made a mistake. Everyone saw that. He's not used to wet roads, but that's why I asked you to run with him so he could get some practice, because you're the only one good enough to not get hurt if he really fucks up. Like he did."

"Don't give me that bullshit!" Kuroo spun and slammed Daishou onto the ground, making the Snake wince as his back made contact with the asphalt. "That trick had your slime smeared all over it. You wanted to use Sakishima to take me out so you'd win the next run by default. If I hadn't been expecting something like that from you, I'd probably be in an ambulance on my way to the hospital right now."

Sakishima had caught up to them and was now clinging to Kuroo's arm, trying to pull him off while babbling insincere apologies. Kuroo shrugged him off impatiently as Daishou's hands landed on his wrist, trying to make him let go, but Kuroo shook him like a terrier with a rat, the adrenaline and testosterone giving him an incredible high.

"Really, Kuroo-san. Ask anyone. They would all say that it's a normal accident," Daishou protested. "You know these kinds of things happen all the time. But you're okay, Isumi's okay. No harm, no foul, right?"

The crowd was murmuring in the background, but Kuroo couldn't hear what they were saying through the blood pounding in his ears. He was just drawing his fist back to punch that smarmy smile off the Snake's face when a deluge of water crashed over both of them. Sputtering, he looked up to see Shouhei holding an empty bucket, Kenma standing beside him.

"Cooled off, Kuro?" Kenma asked in his deadpan voice as he approached them. "Or should I ask Fukunaga to get another bucket?"

Kuroo grimaced, shaking the water out of his eyes and hair as he leaned back slightly, still not letting Daishou go. Kenma crouched beside him, speaking softly, so that the crowd couldn't hear.

"You know that the Snakes are just like this. To everyone else, this does look like a normal accident. If you go any further, you're the one that's going to get a bad reputation. Right now, we can still pass it off as the heat of the moment. Let him go, Kuro."

"Yeah, listen to your girlfriend, Kuro," Daishou taunted. Kuroo's expression shut down, and he drew back his arm again. But this time, Kenma clung to it, still hissing in his ear.

"Stop it, Kuro. You know that everyone says that. They've been saying it for years. It doesn't mean anything. Stop letting him get to you!"

Kuroo grimaced again, but he listened to Kenma, letting his friend quietly talk him down until he was calm enough to shove Daishou away and get up. Accepting a towel from Shouhei, he tousled his hair dry while glaring at Daishou, who got back to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster.

"Sakishima-san forfeited the run," Kenma continued, still talking in his flat, measured tone. "So you'll be up against Daishou later. Are you up to it?"

"Fuck yeah, I'm ready to beat his ass," Kuroo snarled, and Kenma nodded at Shouhei, who ran across the asphalt to retrieve Kuroo's car. They'd probably replace the rear wheels to be safe, and then Kenma would have to run his checks again, but when they were done, his car would be better than new and more than ready to run the cheating bastard into the ground.

He reached into his pocket to pull out his pack of cigarettes, bending over to accept Kenma's offer of a light, and took a deep drag to steady his nerves. Being emotional during a race was the fastest way to get a ride to the morgue, so he needed to re-center himself. By then, the rest of his team had caught up to him, and Tora's particularly heated spiel about Daishou and his team helped bleed away most of the anger as they walked back to the starting line. Kenma had slipped away at some point, and Yaku was nowhere to be seen, so they were probably working on the car while he settled down. Really, he didn't deserve his friends.

By the time they arrived back at the beginning, the cool night air had washed away the rest of his irritation, which was probably Kenma's intention in making him walk back with the others. Shouhei and Yaku had just finished installing new tires, and Kenma was hunched over his laptop again on the curb, only looking up briefly when Kuroo sat down next to him.

"Thanks."

Kenma shrugged, his face bleached by the light from his screen. "I'm just doing my job."

"I mean earlier."

Kenma shrugged again, and a comfortable silence settled between them, broken only by the clicking of the keyboard. The rest of the team was huddled around the car, making checks and occasionally bringing Kenma more numbers, gradually shifting to sit around their captain and his brain, filling the silence with their chatter as other drifters made their runs.

"Hey, wait! You're playing a game, Kenma!" Lev protested, peering over Kenma's shoulder. "What about the race?"

"Kuroo will be fine," Kenma replied calmly as Kuroo looked over at his screen too, which seemed to be displaying the view through a sniper's scope. "His car's fine, and Daishou wants to beat Kuroo. If he tries the same thing, it'll be suspicious, and even if he did, if Kuroo doesn't spin out again, then Daishou will lose. And Kuroo is better than him, so if he does try anything else, it'd be more likely that he'd mess up and Kuroo would still win. His best chance at this point is a fair fight, and that means Kuroo could drive laps around him all day."

Kuroo grinned, standing up and stretching. "Well then, I guess that's my cue to get ready. I'll see you all at the finish line."

He walked over to his car, standing by the driver's door and just running a hand over the shining, red exterior for a moment. Then, taking a deep breath, he got inside, strapping himself down. The familiar feeling of exhilaration that he got just before a run made him smile as he pulled into place behind the next pair of cars, watching out of the corner of his eye as Daishou pulled up next to him.

And then, soon enough, they were flying down the road, Kuroo chasing again, keeping the pressure on his opponent. As Kenma had said, there was no way for Daishou to beat him, and he proved that as he took the lead at the very first bend, hitting the edge perfectly while gunning his engine through the whole course, making the best run that he'd probably ever done and leaving Daishou in his dust. If it was possible, he was even sharper on the turns than he had been against Sakishima, pushing himself and his car to the utmost limit. And there was no better feeling than watching the Snake come up to him to shake his hand after his loss, smiling like it hurt his teeth.

"As expected of the Drift King. But it won't last forever. Someday, someone will knock you off that throne."

And Kuroo had smiled back, the smirk that he knew infuriated Daishou more than anything else.

"Come at me whenever you want. I'll beat you down every time."

[A/N2: This isn't KuroKen. They're just really good childhood friends, so Kenma knows how to calm Kuroo down because they've been part of each other's lives for so long, and Kenma in particular is good at paying attention to people. Kuroo gets pissed at Daishou for calling Kenma his "girlfriend" not because of the implication that he's "whipped" (because Kuroo is perfectly secure in his masculinity), but rather because I have a headcanon that Kenma got teased a lot for being "girly" (weak, thin, kinda androgenous, etc.) growing up, so Kuroo still gets upset when that's used to insult his best friend (even though Kenma honestly doesn't give a fuck). But they're not in a romantic relationship; they just spend a lot of time together.

Of course, if you wanna interpret it as KuroKen, that's your prerogative, but that wasn't my intention in writing this.]

#haikyuu #haikyuu!!#haikyū!!#hq #hq!!#hq racer au #fan fic #fanfic #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo #daishou suguru #daisho suguru #daisho #daishou #nekoma #mine #at least i finally wrote something lol

88 notes · View notes

dilf-hater-blog · 3 years

Text

Invisible Lives (s.r. x fem!reader)

(age gap, reader being dense as hell, awkward tension, only one bed cliché)

Summary: Pairing two of the most average-looking Avengers seemed like a good plan on pen and paper, but when asked to pose as a couple, it seems as if God was finally telling Steve to admit his feelings towards you. (2.5k words)

a/n: there WILL be a part 2! stay tuned :]

“Alright you two, do we need to go over it one more time?” Tony asks and your consciousness felt like it wasn’t in your body.

“Okay! It looks like we need to go over the mission AGAIN. Pay attention this time.” he calls out your name and looks at you

“Sorry.” He just nods and suddenly, pictures show up on the screen.

“You and Capsicle will go undercover here.” he points to the screen and the picture enlarges, “It’s a remote village in France, we think HYDRA has a facility right under this house over here.” a red circle appears beside a house in a somewhat suburban area. “And you, our lovely couple, shall stay over here.” he points to the house right beside the encircled one.

Steve looks over at you and squints his eyes “Are you getting all of this?”

“Uhh yeah, I just...we’re staying right beside them?” “Pretty much, just you and Rogers alone in a house while an evil terrorist organization is RIGHT beside you guys-”

“Tony.” The disappointment in Steve’s voice was evident and Tony rolls his eyes, “We’re a call away kid, we’ll be in the neighboring city. There’s absolutely nothing to worry about.”

You let out a shaky breath and both men look over at you “You’ll do fine, now, we have to go over your roles.” Steve’s and your picture show up on the screen with text right beside it.

“Rogers, your name would be George Blaine. You’re 32 and you like...I don’t know, history books?” you burst out laughing and when they both look at you, you clear your throat.

“Your name would be Ivy Webster, and you can both thank fake name generators for those. Ivy Webster is 20 and-”

“Why do they have such a big age gap?” Steve questions.

“Makes them focus on something else other than asking more questions.”

“Carry on.” “You’re both in a relationship.” Your heart drops and your eyes dart over to Steve, he’s fidgety and he keeps crossing and uncrossing his arms.

“Tony, you said we were playing siblings?” “Last minute change of plans, it’ll be a lot more convincing if you play lovers-“ while he’s talking, he walks over to a side table and opens a drawer.

“Here are the promise rings and do take care of those.” Tony hands a ring to Steve and you, you wear it on your left hand’s ring finger.

“Just remember, no storming their base, no blowing of covers, act casual and just do whatever you guys do. We leave in 3 hours.”

♡

“Act normal, we’ll be fine.” you chant like a mantra while you’re folding clothes and placing them in your luggage. A knock sounds “Mr. Rogers is at your door, should I let him in?” “Yes FRIDAY, thank you.”

Steve gives you a tight-lipped smile while he walks over to sit at your bed.

“You feeling okay?”

“No, I’m anxious and scared and-” You let out an exasperated sigh

“Why?” You stop to think.

“I...it’s my first time going undercover like this, and HYDRA would just be right beside us and-”

“Doll, you have nothing to worry about, not while I’m there with you.” Steve cuts you off and you give each other a tight-lipped smile “and besides, Tony did say act natural, you’ll be fine doll.” he leaves the room and you lay sprawled out on your bed.

You close your eyes and steady your breathing, everything you need is in your suitcase, you’ll be safe, there will be a terrorist organization right beside you, you and Steve will pretend to be lovers-

Your breathing quickens and your heart rate speeds up, your palms sweat and suddenly there’s a bang on the door. “Kid come on! Let’s go! Meet-up was 30 minutes ago!” fuck, did the time go by THAT fast? You grab your suitcase, and your extra bags; the door slides open, and Tony glances over at you, “Kid, this is an undercover mission, you look like you’re going to the Bahamas.” you try to suppress the urge to laugh but you burst out laughing.

“Sorry, Tony.” you apologize.

“Nah kid it’s alright, I just noticed you were nervous so I had to do something.”

“Thanks.” He pats you on the back and walks you over to the quinjet.

The door opens and you’re greeted with some of the Avengers just sitting around, “Glad to see you’re early.” Nat suddenly speaks up behind you and you turn around.

“Sorry I-” “Was rehearsing about how your date with Steve is gonna go?” Sam cuts you off and Steve pipes up from the cockpit “Come on, stop harassing the poor girl, she’s gonna go into shock if you keep teasing her.” you mouth out an ‘it’s fine’ to Sam and Nat and they smile at you, Sam suddenly makes his way past you and to the Captain.

“You two are gonna play LOVERS, all ALONE in a house...might as well tell the poor girl what you’re FEELING.” you could hear Sam’s voice all the way from the back and then you hear Steve’s shushing “Will you keep it down?” he whisper-shouts and Nat giggles.

“What’s Steve feeling? Is he nervous too?” you ask her and Nat just laughs harder.

“What? What is it?!” You start to panic and Tony pats you on the back “Alright! We’re ready to go!” He claps his hands and you sit down and buckle in while everyone else does the same.

Tony sits by the cockpit and the telltale feelings of nervousness disappear.

♡

You wake up to a feeling on your shoulder and Nat smiles at you. “Is she up now?” Tony looks behind him and you give him a thumbs up. Steve walks over to you and smiles down at you, he unbuckles your seatbelt and he offers his hand, you take it and he pulls you up.

Tony stands up from his seat in the cockpit and walks over to you, “Okay, we’ll drop you off at a safehouse. From there you are officially George Blaine and Ivy Webster, you’ll use these-” he hands both of you fake passports and IDs “-and the house telephone immediately connects you to us.” Steve nods.

“How will we get to the house?” you ask and everybody turns toward you.

“Oh, Capsicle is driving you guys. It’s not like the old man can’t drive.” everybody snickers except for Steve who has somewhat of a disappointed smile on his face. “Go fix up, we’re landing in 3.”

The plane shakes and you almost fall but a pair of arms stop you from colliding face-first with the ground “Easy does it.” Steve sits you back down and Tony turns his chair towards you, “We haven’t even landed and you guys are already in love, gross.”

“Do you want me to call Pepper?” Nat asks and Tony’s eyes grow big.

“That’s what I thought, now, keep your eyes on the sky.” Tony turns his chair back around and you all laugh.

The quinjet descends and you feel a short period of moving around before you come to a complete stop. “You need to work on the landing Cap.” Sam remarks and Steve just sighs under his breath and mumbles “I know.”

You pull your luggage along and sling your extra bag onto your shoulder and the quinjet doors open. You’re greeted by Nick Fury and the rest of the Avengers.

“Hey doll!” someone exclaims and you squeal.

“Bucky!” he picks you up with ease and spins you around.

“How was the flight?” “It was okay.” he nods and calls Steve over, they shake hands and start a conversation, you see Wanda and Nat talking so you decided to go over to them.

“Oh hey!” Wanda gives you a hug and whispers in your ear, “You’ll be fine right?” “Yes mom, I’ll be alright.” we all burst out in laughter until Nick Fury calls everyone over.

“I don’t want anyone blowing their covers, got it?” everyone simultaneously nods “We’re here for recon, we’re NOT on vacation, are we clear?” everyone nods once again, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

“Blaine and Webster, go get ready.” both you and Steve nod and you pick up your bags. “I’ll help you doll.” Bucky carries your bags.

“Oh no! It’s fine.” you wave your hands in front of you and Bucky just shakes his head.

“It’s alright doll, I insist.” he gives you a warm smile.

“Come on guys.” Steve opens the trunk of the car and you just give Bucky a sympathetic smile.

Both men start loading the car and Nat and Wanda surprisingly give you a hug. “Guys, I’ll be back.” “Yeah but we won’t be seeing you and we’ll probably miss you.” Nat rebuts and you all just laugh. You hear the trunk close and then the two men talking to each other.

“That’s probably my cue to leave.” you let go of the two women and they give you a sad smile.

“‘Till the end of the line,” Bucky says and Steve just gives him a smile.

“Be careful with her.” Bucky eyes Steve and he just nods.

Everyone waves you goodbye and you enter the car, Steve drives off and suddenly, silence greets the both of you again. It was pretty awkward so he puts on a random radio station, it played some old French songs and it sort of eased the tension; it was still pretty awkward so he clears his throat and you bring your knees up to your chest. It was pretty late in the afternoon and the sun was setting, you looked out the window and you see the countryside, the sun disappears behind the copious amount of houses by the water.

“You ever been to France?” Steve cuts the silence and you look over at him.

“Non monsieur, et toi?” you ask him, and he just smiles whilst still paying attention to the road.

“I think I have, we were only out at sea though.” you turn your body to face him.

“That’s a story for another time, but tell me, how do you know French?” he asks and you laugh.

“I don’t know it per se but I know SOME phrases, I learned it in like the 10th grade.” You snicker and he just raises his eyebrows to acknowledge your sentence.

“Well, they didn’t teach us that good in art school,” he remarks and you give him an amused smile.

“They probably did, Bucky showed me some of your drawings, especially the one you did of me; I’d say you’re pretty good!” you chirp and his eyes widen.

“Buck did what?! I swear to God-”

“It’s fine! Your drawings are really nice, I appreciate you taking in this face.” you bring your hand to point at your face and he just laughs.

“Do you...do you like Bucky?” there was a bit of silence, you fiddle with the end of your shoelace and think about your answer.

“Yeah I do.” there was silence on Steve’s end and you could hear yourself gulp.

“Why wouldn’t I? He’s a pretty good friend.” you continue and you hear Steve’s sigh of relief, his composure was back to normal and the small conversation you had just eased up the tension a little.

You lost count of the time due to the constant playing of French love songs, it was nighttime when you finally reached the house you were staying at. The neighboring houses around the area were quiet, most especially the one besides yours; the lights were closed and you could only hear the sound of a cricket in the distance. Steve turns the engine off and opens the trunk of the car.

“Do you want some help with your bags?” he asks and you nod.

“Yeah hold on, let me open the front door.” you turn the key and you’re greeted with an average-looking house, it was semi-furnished with some labeled boxes scattered around the house. You flip a switch and the living room lights open, Steve follows after, holding both of your bags while having his bag slung on his shoulder.

You both enter the house and you look around whilst flipping some light switches in the process. He climbs up to the second floor and you follow him shortly after; he enters the first room and to your horror, there’s a big master bed by the middle and some drawers and closets around the room.

“It’s a pretty cozy house.” he drops the bags by the bed and acts as if he didn’t see the same thing I saw. Steve explores the other rooms while I tail right behind him, the only other room on the second floor was a bathroom and an empty room with a stack of labeled boxes in it.

“Probably a guest bedroom.” I shrug and he closes the door to the empty room, he goes back to the main bedroom and starts unpacking his clothes.

“You fit that many clothes in a tiny bag?” you question and he just laughs.

“I didn’t know what else to bring.” you burst out laughing and he just gives you a shy smile, you both unload clothes in silence and he yawns. You fold the last bit of your clothes and place them in the drawer on the opposite side of the room, Steve sat on the bed and he rubs his eyes; you take your toiletries to the bathroom and stock up, you do your nightly routine and return to the bedroom.

You see Steve all sprawled out on the bed and you snicker.

“Tired, are we?” he sighs and gives you a smile.

“You think?” He waves you over and he sits up, patting the empty spot right next to him. He stands up and grabs a blanket from the closet and lays it down on the floor, you immediately stand up.

“What are you doing?” you ask.

“Making my bed.” he continues and places pillows on the carpeted floor.

“Wha- no-no, you’ll sleep on the bed!” you exclaim and he turns to look at you.

“Are you...okay with that?” you tilt your head.

“Well, yeah, I’ve slept on the floor multiple times.” you pat down the blanket he just laid out and you sit down on it, he shakes his head and extends his arm, you tilt your head once more and you take his hand; he pulls you up.

“No doll, I meant are you okay with us sharing a bed?” you walk over to sit down by the edge of the bed.

“Oh I don’t mind.” he looks down at his feet and he nods, he sits on the bed, making sure to put a hell of a distance between each other. You lay down against the pillows and snuggle in with the comforter, trying to get comfortable; Steve does the same and he gets into bed as well.

He turns to face you and you could feel his eyes staring into your soul, the lights were turned off but the moonlight captured his face enough.

“Goodnight doll.”

“G’night.” you slowly close your eyes, unaware of the blue eyes still lovingly staring at you.

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #captain america x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers fanfiction

20 notes · View notes

moonlit-jeno · 4 years

Text

high sex + jaemin

warnings: semi-public sex, minor drug use (weed), alcohol mention

The party’s already in full swing when you get there, your way blocked by people laughing and dancing in their own world. You cringe with every person you elbow past, apologizing mentally. It’s probably unnecessary, most of them don’t even notice.

Mark and Johnny are in the kitchen, making wild drink combinations that have you wrinkling your nose. You try one and nearly throw up. Johnny cackles and pours you all shots.

Chenle’s found the controls to the lighting and he changes them as fast as he can, cackling at the disoriented looks on everyone’s faces. Jeno’s quick to stop him, replacing the controller with a camera and telling him to catch all the drama. The lights settle on a gentle blue that joins with the hazy quality to the living room and makes you feel like you’re underwater, moving in slow motion towards Jaemin. He’s melted against the couch, head tipped back as he finishes taking his hit. White clouds float past his parted lips and he watches with heavy lids as they fill the room. A satisfied groan leaves him and his eyes fall shut.

Jaemin’s beautiful, you realize. He always is, always has been, but it’s different now. Under the blue lighting that fills the room, he looks almost ethereal. The type of pretty that makes you stop and stare when you see them in the street, the type that looks like they’ve just stepped off a magazine cover. You stare for a few long moments, taking in the way he’s got his legs spread wide, head tipped back to expose his neck, the loose collar of his shirt doing nothing to hide his collarbones.

His eyes are shut when you sit down but they slide open when you snuggle up next to him. A lazy smile comes onto his face, then, the type of smile that’s all teeth and happiness with no reason behind it besides the fact that he’s loose and feeling good. He looks you up and down, moves one arm to your back and pushes you onto his lap. His other hand sways gently in the air, the lit end of the joint glinting when you look at it.

“Hey.” You giggle, smiling up at him. He tips his head down to be able to see you better, the hand he’s got on your back sliding up to cup your cheek.

“Hey.” He says back, a little dumbly but it works nonetheless. “You high?”

You glance up at the joint before pouting at him. “Not as much as I should be.”

Jaemin makes smoking weed look like an art form. You watch as his pretty lips wrap around the joint before he tips your head back, leaning forward until your lips just barely brush. And you know the drill, you know what’s about to happen, but you’re never quite as prepared for it as you should be. Jaemin blows the smoke into your waiting mouth with ease, watches as you inhale it, watches as your pupils bloom that much extra and listens to the soft moans of contentment that leave with the smoke you blow out.

It’s easy for Jaemin to close that gap between you, to slide his tongue past your lips instead of smoke. You’re happy when he does, pressing yourself closer against him because he tastes like weed and the cotton candy liquor johnny had poured down your throat and it’s somehow the most addicting thing you’ve ever had.

His kisses are playful, kissing you before drawing back just enough that you have to curl your hand around the nape of his neck and pull him closer. His kisses are slow, acting like he has all the time in the world and refusing to speed up when you get impatient. His kisses are hot, his teeth nipping at your lip before his tongue sneaks out to soothe it, and he’s not shy about sucking on your tongue hard enough to send fire down to your pussy. It leaves you squirming, rocking your hips against him just to get something.

Jaemin stubs the joint out and his hand falls to your lower back, just above the curve of your ass. He feels you rock against him, he must, because his cock is hard and his fingers flex against you, sighs leaving him with every kiss.

“I need you.” You gasp out, moving to press a wet kiss at his earlobe.

“Yeah?” He asks lazily, raising his eyebrows as if he can’t feel the way you’re grinding against him, as if you’re not sliding your hand under his shirt, as if your nails aren’t scratching against his abs. “You need me?”

“So bad.” You moan out, playing it up a bit. He doesn’t need to hear it- he already knows how badly you need him, but he’s always liked hearing you beg. And you’ve always liked begging, especially on nights like these when your inhibitions are loose and you lips are even looser. “Jaemin, please. Your cock is so fucking good, fills me up so well. Want it.”

Jaemin takes his time tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You want it that bad that you’d let me fuck you in a room of strangers?” He asks, sliding his hand down to palm at your ass. “Want everyone you see what a whore you for my cock?”

A quick glance around the room reveals that everyone’s too out of it to notice what’s happening and you bury your face back in his neck. His body tenses under you when you suck a mark into his throat, the groan he lets out vibrating against your lips. “Mhmm, want them to see.”

It’s easy to convince him. He leans into the couch while you undo his belt, tugging his boxers down just enough to free his cock. His eyes roll back in his head when you dig your thumb into his slit, giving him one harsh stroke before sliding your panties to the side, taking him down in one go. Your skirt covers everything, or at least you hope it does. You couldn’t care less if it doesn’t because Jaemin’s cock feels so good in you, stretches your walls in the best way possible and fills your vision with stars. Your head falls back on your shoulders, mouth open in a silent moan, and start to roll your hips against him.

Jaemin looks utterly blissed out, one hand squeezing at your ass and the other landing on your back to pull you flush against him. His groans are rough in your ear and you muffle your whimpers into his neck.

“So big.” You manage your gasp out, rocking your hips and finding an angle that makes you really feel it. Your nails dig into his chest through his shirt and his curse gets lost in your moan, in the bass vibrating through the space around you. “Fuck Jaem, I fuckin- oh God.”

Everything feels like so much, the rawness with which you bounce on Jaemin settling deep in your stomach and making your skin burn. There’s a confusing mixture of desperation and laziness to the way you fuck and it makes your head spin, makes you grab onto your boyfriend to ground yourself. Jaemin clings onto you like he’ll die if he doesn’t and yet he does nothing to chase his high, just pulling you closer against him and sinking into the couch cushions.

“Pretty girl.” Jaemin whispers, brushing his lips against your forehead. It’s not like Jaemin to get talkative when he’s high and his words surprise you, make you gasp and clutch a little tighter at him. “My pretty girl.”

Everything blurs together for you. The music, the lighting, the knowledge that anyone in their right mind could look over and know what you’re doing, the tenderness that Jaemin touches you with compared to the rawness that his cock splits you open with: it all blurs into one endless feeling of ecstasy, consuming you until it’s all you can feel, all you can think about.

Jaemin’s name leave you like a prayer as you come, your orgasm sending you higher up into the clouds than you already were. He holds you through it, whispers “I’ve got you” as you shake apart in his arms, his lips pressed to your neck as he finds his own end.

Your eyelids feel heavy and your body feels too warm, your throat screaming for water. Jaemin’s stroking your back, whispering that he’ll get you water, that you’re amazing, that he loves you, pretty much whatever comes into his brain. And you don’t want to move, you’re so fucked out and comfortable that you want to stay like this forever, but Jaemin convinces you with his lips and a surprisingly hard smack to your ass.

His cock slides out of you and leaves you feeling so empty that you can’t stop the whine that leaves your throat, pussy aching with the need to have him back. He brushes your complaints away with his lips, leading you to the bathroom with his hand firmly on your waist, his chest pressed flush to your back. Renjun scoffs at the two of you when you push past him into the bathroom, high fiving both of you. Jaemin misses his hand.

You clean up with one of the nice fluffy towels folded neatly in the bathroom, Jaemin wrinkling his nose as he tries to wash the come out of your panties in the sink. He presses a soft kiss to your nose and smiles down at you. “You want to go to my room?”

“I want a burger.” You give him your best puppy dog eyes and you must look ridiculous but Jaemin doesn’t comment, just cooing and laughing.

“You want a burger? Then you’re getting a burger.” He wraps his arms around you and leads you back to the living room. “I’ll get Doyoung to buy them for us.”

#jaemin smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #na jaemin smut #kpop smut #jaemin scenarios #kpop scenarios #jaemin x reader

1K notes · View notes

arhvste · 4 years

Text

KOZUME KENMA - WORK OF ART

request - could it be possible to get a kenma fic/scenario where his gf or girl crush is an artist and often draws him- probably hides it n testu or someone finds it and shows him so now they go on lip dates where kenma just plays his games and she draws him just like extra fluffy if you can I love kenma so much 🥺🥺🥺 if it’s too much then just something fluffy with ken ! thank you!

warnings - none

an - thank you for the request anon i just know kuroo the little shit would show his best friend all the drawings he finds 😈

classes were boring enough as it is but learning about the history or hiragana? what was the need?

sitting by the window seat, you had the obvious choice to stare outside the glass as class dragged along but you hardly found yourself looking outside at the window. instead, you would look and admire a classmate of yours.

kozume kenma.

he was one of the prettiest boys you’d ever seen. even his actions were so delicate and gentle to which would encourage the light butteries in your stomach to flutter a little more while you watched him. it wasn’t long before you found yourself sketching the bleached haired boy.

you were an avid artist with a beautiful talent. drawing kenma seemed a little out of your comfort zone at first. when you noticed you’d been sketching him for a few weeks you tried to consciously stop yourself, you didn’t want to feel like a creep who would just stare and draw someone. these sketches captured the boy’s calmness perfectly though and you found you couldn’t help yourself but continue, even deciding to add more detail into particular pieces you liked.

you told yourself that you were just using him as inspiration. you weren't infatuated with the boy, just inspired. no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself of this though, you found yourself enjoying drawing him more than anyone or anything else bringing you to the conclusion that yes, maybe you were perhaps a little smitten with him. not that you’d ever let him find out though.

your sketch book was littered with an assortment of drawings. some finished down to the smallest detailed and others half done, lazily sketched and yet to be completed. kenma took up most of the occupation of the pages though. surrounded by statues, flowers and other pretty things you often drew kenma as the centre piece for all your pages.

the drawings you skillfully created depended on your mood and kenma’s mood on the day. some days, kenma would be struggling to keep his concentration on the lesson going on in front of him, other days he’d be almost interested and looked as if he was putting more effort into his work. your most favourite days, were ones where kenma was lazily interested in the lesson. he would often propt is chin under his hand, eyes prettily fluttering occasionally while trying to stay awake (probably sleep deprived from excessive hours of gaming) and he would sometimes even use a thin black bobby pin to pin his long hair out of his face to stop his field of vision from closing in tempting him to fall into a slumber in the midst of class. those days were your favourite. he looked extra pretty.

today just happened to be one of those days as you gazed at kenma who at this moment had his hair messily pinned out of his face, eyes drooping every so often with the setters head dropping ever so slightly every time he felt the weight of sleep too heavy to handle. one hand placed under his chin, keeping his head from completely falling onto the desk and the other weakly holding his pen as he attempted to keep up with the classes notes.

you wanted to draw him in this moment really, but you did happen to feel bad for the blonde. he was obviously struggling to keep his head clear enough to focus so you decided now was a good opportunity to step out of your comfort zone a little.

“kozume-san? you whispered ever so gently.

kenma’s eyes widened slightly at the sound of his voice being called. he tilted his head in you direction and blinked his twinkly golden eyes at you

“hm?”

“d-do you want me to uh keep up with your notes for you?”

kenma’s eyes softened at the sound of your gentle voice.

“why would you want to do that l/n?”

“i can see you’re struggling to stay focused. we sit near the back and the teacher isn't interested in looking in our direction. you can catch up on a bit of sleep - o-only if you want though you don't have to!”

you knew you were blushing now. maybe you should’ve just minded your own business but in a split second you knew it was all worth it.

kenma gave you a small but genuine smile. fuck. it was so pretty. he was so pretty. his smile wasn’t blinding no, more of a gentle angelic glowing light that warms ones heart. the rare sort of golden light that can only be captured in a small time window each day and only through clear skies. you had made kozume kenma smile and you knew you were right to have stepped out your comfort zone.

“you’re observant. its much appreciated l/n, thank you. let me know how i can repay you after.”

his soft voice heavy with sleep sent the butteries in your stomach to go off in a frenzy. his delicate hands handed you his class book and he blushed so lightly it wasn't even noticeable at the subtle contact of your fingers brushing past each other.

he gave you a gentle nod as he laid his head down gently on his desk and gave into the strong craving to fall into a sleep.

drawing and writing were two things that came naturally to you. you were able at completing both tasks at a quick speed but you did it so flawlessly. you took a shy pride in your notes and classwork as you did with your drawings. both aesthetically pleasing to look at, but full of appropriate and useful content.

writing kenma’s notes alongside yours wouldn’t be a problem to you.

however, this would cause one in the unbeknownst future to you.

class ended about 50 minutes after you had encouraged kenma to have a small sleep. classmates were closing their notebooks and packing up their things. you gently tapped the sleeping setters shoulder with notes in your hand.

after a few taps the boy slowly lifted his head and gently rubbed the sleep out of his eyes. your heart melted at the sight of his eyes flickering while adjusting to the light. the slightly darkened sun depicting his eyes as gold speckled pools of honey, his nose scrunched up as he allowed his body to wake up. was there ever a time this boy was ugly? he seemed to be attractive doing everything, it wasn’t fair.

taking the book from your hands he nodded and gave you a shy smile.

“thank you, l/n. please tell me how i can repay you”

“oh! please don't worry about it! you looked like you needed a recharge i’m just happy you were able to do just that.”

“you’re a kind person l/n. but don’t hesitate to let me know if you ever need a favour.”

and with that, the setter packed up the few papers he had been resting on and then slightly bowing at you before heading out the door most likely to get ready for practice.

you smiled to yourself and headed out your classroom to leave for home knowing you had done a good deed for the day and you had happened to have your first direct interaction with the boy you’d been delicately sketching for the past couple of months.

“kenma! you’re 2 minutes and 38 seconds later than usual! we can't afford to have the brain of the team slacking.” kuroo teased his best friend with an irritating smile.

“was talking to a classmate. she helped keep me up with the class notes.” kenma spoke boredly as he set his bag down so he could change into his gym clothes.

“notes eh? offended you wouldn't just ask me for help. this feels like betrayal.”

kenma rolled his eyes at his friend’s childish behaviour and dug through his bag to look for his clothes.

“the offer was there so i just took it. besides, l/n’s handwriting is much more eligible than yours.”

“ouch. are they as detailed though?”

“probably even more.”

“i don’t believe you.”

“look for yourself.” kenma shrugged nodding towards his schoolbag.

kuroo wandered over to kenma’s bag and pulled the classwork book out.

“uh yeah i guess these are pretty ne- oHOHO what do we have here?”

kuroos eyes danced over the pages, a shit eating grin spreading across his face.

“i hate when you pull that face what’s wrong with you?” kenma’s disgusted face looked up at kuroo who looked like he was having an internal field day.

“l/n eh? i think someones got a little crush on you kenma.”

“what?”

kuroo turned the book around to show the pages to kenma who’s eye widened.

there was the pages you had littered with beautifully depicted drawings of kenma.

both boys were silent as kenma’s eyes scanned over the pages.

“no reaction? personally i’d be flattered if someone drew me that much and with such good detail too.”

kenma was still processing all the drawings as a million possible reasons for why you’d drawn him so much ran though his head.

did you think he was attractive?

was it a crush like kuroo had teased?

did you just need a reference and he just so happened to be there?

were the drawings actually him or were they just someone scarily similar?

“sooooo... you gonna talk to her then?”

kuroo smiled teasingly at the now blushing setter.

“i’ll just give this back to her. it’s obviously personal and she might even explain herself when she sees that i have her book.”

kuroo shrugged and put the book back in kenma’s bag.

“i think it’s cute kenma, take my advice, you should take the opportunity to get to know her a little, she's obviously interested in you.”

kenma snorted at his friends words slightly as he begun to follow him out the changing rooms and into the gym to join the rest of the team.

“ironic the relationship virgin is giving me advice.”

kuroo could only roll his eyes and laugh.

“to think you’d be the one to get a girl first, in my defence i’m too busy for relationships.”

“okay mr docosahexaenoic acid, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

you had just arrived home and you felt the weight of the day lift itself off of you as you threw your shoes off and dropped your bag to the floor in your bedroom.

you bag tipped over with some of the contents spilling out causing you to huff but get up and pick it up anyway.

then you saw it.

your heart dropped.

“fuck.”

‘kozume kenma’ was written on the front of one of your classwork books. how had you been so stupid in getting them mixed up.

you began to panic and think of solutions to this fresh dilemma.

“maybe i should just tell him that i just like him nows a chance? no that's stupid why would i do that? i’ll just tell him it’s a model that just looks similar to him. no, that’s not believable is it? fuck it. i’m moving country.”

you screamed into your pillow but then stopped when you remembered something.

kenma was in practice right now. there’s no way he could’ve opened the book and bothered checking the work right? why would he bother doing that?

you checked the time on your phone. 3:28pm. you still had a while until practice was over. that would be more than enough time to go into the changing rooms and swap the books before anyone notices. and even if he had opened the book already, when he saw his book was back in his bag, you could easily play it off as if he had dreamt the drawings up as he would’ve just woken up and still been drowsy.

you wasted no time grabbing your shoes and the book to sprint out the door. school wasn’t too far from your house, a 17 minute walk to be exact. your legs started to ache at the sudden intense action of you sprinting like your life depended on it. well, your life did depend on it. if kenma saw them and thought you were weird, what were you to do then? dropping out of school seemed like the most reasonable option.

finally reaching the gates you caught your breath. getting to school was a 17 minute walk but a 9 minute run. once you gathered your thoughts you quietly approached the gym to peek inside. there the team were training and focused on the court. going in through the front of the school and walking through the halls to get to the changing rooms through the back way, you gripped the book tightly as you got to the boys changing rooms.

a quiet prayer was muttered before entering. the changing room was surprisingly clean and didn't smell like over sprayed deodorant and excessive sweat like you’d imagined. you let out a sigh of relief as you scanned the room for kenma’s stuff before noticing it at the end of the room.

“just in and out.” you muttered under your breath as you walked swiftly over to the setter’s belongings

digging through kenma’s stuff proved to be quite stressful. you were so focused on not getting caught, you failed to noticed the door separating the gym and changing rooms open.

“uh l/n?”

you jumped and turned your head to the owner of the voice.

there stood a slight sweaty and tired looking kenma who had offered to return to the changing rooms to grab one of yaku’s extra kneepads.

“uhhh i can explain.. our books got um mixed up and i uh well -”

“you’re talented you know.” kenma gave you a small almost ghost smile.

your face instantly heated up at the small praise the boy had given you.

“w-what?”

“the drawings. i must say, i was surprised when i saw them but, you have talent y/n and... i don’t mind if you keep drawing me...”

kenma’s shy persona caused the last part to come out so quietly you almost didn't hear him.

“i’ll keep that in mind.” you smiled as you approached kenma to give him his book back.

he muttered a quiet thanks and went through his own bag to fish you out your book to give back to you. the tension was awkward but not heavy enough to drive either of you away instantly. both of you holding back in anticipation waiting for one of you to talk.

“so um, do you wanna maybe go out sometime? you don’t have to.”

your eyes softened again as you shyly nodded.

“i would like that kozume-san.”

“kenma. call me kenma.”

months had passed since then. you found you had things in common with the setter and found his neutral presence calming. he wasn’t too loud or in your face but he also wasn’t completely extroverted to the point where you’d sit in awkward silence like people often assumed he was like.

you had met his team and family and they all welcomed you with open arms eager to get to know the girl who had drawn kenma not only on paper but drawn him out of his comfort zone gently.

the two of you weren’t big on going out on dates. you would both often opt to stay in and enjoy each other’s company. kenma would game and you would draw, the two of you engaging in soft and relaxing conversation. kenma would never admit it out loud, but he loved the days where you would draw him. he would act like he was too immersed in his game to notice you sketching away but he felt a sense of pride in him whenever he noticed you using him as your model.

you had grown more confident in yourself and often allowed kenma to see your drawings. you decided since you were using him as your reference, the least you could do was show him how you portrayed him and every time he would compliment and praise you for your work.

“you know i’m glad i felt extra tired that one day you offered to do my notes.”

you hummed and looked up at your boyfriend.

“yeah? i’m just gad you weren’t weirded out by my book.”

kenma offered a gentle smile at you.

“weirded out? i was taken aback but not weirded out. i was ever so slightly flattered even. thank you for seeing some sort of beauty in me.”

brushing his hair out of his face you smiled softly as you leaned closer to his face to whisper your final words before pressing a delicate kiss to his lips.

“no, thank you for being a work of art.”

#kozume kenma #kenma x reader #kenma x you #haikyuu fanfic #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!

234 notes · View notes

fiddlepickdouglas · 3 years

Text

Viva Las Vegas, Pt. 10 - Clean This Up

Summary: Sunset Curve Alive AU, Willex, who is he really?, 2.9k

@trevor-wilson-covington is the bestie who makes these lovely edits, we stan supportive friends

WARNINGS: abuse, mild violence

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Alex had said to check the diner, so Victoria opted to have dinner there and asked to see the owner. She was aware of the vigilante-style work she was doing, but with everything else going on in her life, this couldn’t possibly hurt any worse. Folding her hands, she breathed calmly as she peeked at the menu. It was important not to act as authoritative as she usually did, she reminded herself. A portly man with short gray hair and a mustache came over and took the seat across from her.

“Hi there,” the man said, shaking Victoria’s hand. “What can I do for you?”

“Hi, I’m Victoria Molina,” she introduced herself. “I was actually trying to find someone and I was told you could help me.”

The man raised his eyebrows in surprise.

“Oh, alright. Who are you looking for?”

“I’m looking for a young man of about seventeen, he goes by Willie? I was told he works here. I just have some questions for him. Would he happen to be in at all today?”

“We don’t have anyone named Willie here anymore,” the man told her. “I actually just bought this establishment along with the hotel about two weeks ago and a few of the staff followed the previous owner to a different business. You might want to talk to him instead.”

“Oh,” Victoria sat back in slight disappointment. “I take it you’re not Caleb Covington?”

“No, he’s the guy I bought it from. I’m Frank Wolfe. I can give you his contact information, though.”

Nodding, she smiled politely.

“I would appreciate that. Sorry I had to come bother you, though.”

“Not at all,” he said. “I apologize that I can’t be any more useful. If you like, I can take your order.”

“Oh, thank you. I’ll actually have the carne asada.”

“Perfect,” he smiled as he took her menu away. “I’ll have that information for you in just a minute, too.”

Taking a gulp of water, Victoria sighed. It certainly felt just like any regular case. The fact the business had recently changed hands made her want to be suspicious, but she fought to remain level-headed. It was enough that she was going off the word of a teenage boy and an old poster. If it was a dud, if this trip led nowhere, she would buy Carlos a gift and head home safe and sound.

After finishing her meal, she returned to her hotel room and pulled out the business card Frank Wolfe had given her. Something about the dark purple design and the old-fashioned lettering he’d chosen made her feel like Caleb Covington was at least a little pretentious, if not flashy about his business. Picking up the phone and dialing the number, she held her breath waiting for an answer.

“Caleb Covington, who may I be speaking to?” a baritone voice chimed on the other end. The touch of sing-song in his tone was unexpected.

“Hi, my name is Victoria,” she introduced herself for the second time that night. “I was told you were the guardian of a young man named Willie?”

“Are you with social services?” he asked.

She furrowed her brow. “I’m sorry?”

“I usually only get a call when we have a hearing scheduled, but our last one was just a couple months ago.” His tone had gone from happy to serious at such a jarring speed it took Victoria a moment to process his words.

“No,” she said finally. “No, I’m not with them. I didn’t mean to confuse you. I’m actually reaching out on a personal favor. See another young man I know says they met a while back.”

“Oh, is it the band that came through a few weeks ago?” Caleb immediately picked the cheer back up.

“Yes, I’m glad you remember,” she responded, surprised.

“How are those boys doing?”

“Oh, they’re just fine. I think they’re gonna be a success.”

“Good to hear it,” he said. “Listen, no harm done. I own a swanky little club just in the south of town. I would be delighted if you gave me a visit, and I’d be happy to chat.”

“Sounds great, thank you,” Victoria smiled, unable to believe how easy that felt. “I can stop by tomorrow evening.”

“Wonderful. If it isn’t too much, I’ll make you a reservation.”

“Well, I can’t say no to such generosity!” It had been a long time since Victoria had gone on a night out. This was a much needed vacation, and if it killed two birds with one stone, all the better. She said goodbye and decided since she was practically getting everything she needed at the club, the rest of the day would be spent treating herself for once.

Willie skateboarded up the driveway and only just remembered Caleb’s rule about the pool in time to hop off before pulling off his helmet and going around the back. He took the back route into the house and dropped a number of grocery bags on the counter. One of these days he would age out of the foster system and not spend the morning being Caleb’s errand boy, but for now he just laid Caleb’s credit card on the table and went outside toward his shed.

Opening the door, he saw Caleb standing in the middle of the room, looking around at all of his drawings. Paper covered most of the walls now. Faces with no names to them, locations with no map to their destination - only snippets of a past life. Willie couldn’t stop drawing them. There still weren’t many memories returning to him, but any detail was an important one. He hadn’t drawn this much in ages, since before he found Sheldon. The backwards dream had become a recurring one by now, and there was still very little that he understood about it. Still, he had so many scenes made out of it that he could almost recreate the dream in a very rough animation.

“Hi C-Caleb,” Willie stammered. This never happened. It made him immediately nervous.

“What a collection, William,” Caleb said, not exactly sounding like an awed patron in a museum. “I mean, the sheer volume of work that went into these is absolutely mind-blowing.”

A small pebble of pride rose in Willie’s chest.

“Really?.... Um, thank you.” He couldn’t suppress his smile.

Caleb held up a hand and looked down at his well-manicured nails, and then back up.

“I just don’t understand why I look so hostile in this one,” he said, pointing to the picture in question. “And that one. And all of these in this corner.” His gaze returned to Willie with unprecedented menace.

Willie immediately shrank away, his mouth gaping open.

“Well...I..they’re from a dream.”

“A dream?” Caleb repeated, not liking what he was hearing.

“Yeah, I think it was a memory.”

Willie watched the man straighten his posture, a calculating expression on his face.

“Are these all memories?” Caleb asked after a tense moment, casting his eyes about the room.

“I think so,” Willie said hesitantly.

Caleb lifted a hand and grabbed the bottom of one. It was the first one WIllie had done of his dad sitting inside the truck and smiling at him.

“Hm,” was all that he said for a second.

And then he tore it in half.

Willie made toward the picture in alarm, feeling a part of him inside being torn just the same, but was stopped as Caleb held a hand out.

“Ah ah,” he said. “What have I told you about becoming your own person regardless of the past?” He took a handful of another drawing and ripped that one too.

Ignoring what Caleb said, Willie lunged forward to try stopping him anyway. Caleb was faster, grabbing his shirt and tossing him backward into the wall. He couldn’t help but begin crying.

“But these are my memories, why would you - ” he sputtered, lost for words.

“Because, William,” Caleb continued loudly, pulling as many as he could off the wall and shredding them into smaller pieces. “Your history? The one full of loss and being shuffled here and there? That is all that awaits you. You know it’s the truth; that’s how you ended up here. I offer you the opportunity to become a new person, and I can’t allow you to spoil yourself with reminders. And besides, those little friends you not-so-secretly made a few weeks ago have started snooping around in my business, and I can’t have that.”

He didn’t even pick anything up, he just left paper strewn all over the floor and walked all over it. As he made for the last wall, Willie made one more attempt to overpower him. He leapt onto Caleb’s shoulders and tried to pull him back with all his weight. A fist landed in his eye and he slacked his grip. Caleb wrestled him onto the bed and held him down, a crazed look in his eye that Willie swore he’d never seen no matter how familiar it felt.

“I don’t understand, what do they have to do with it? Why can’t I have friends?”

“I’m doing this for your own good,” Caleb hissed at him. “You” - he reached up and touched the scar on Willie’s head with his finger - “You got a reboot and you know how many people are lucky enough for that? You should thank me. Unfortunately, you can’t have friends when they send someone asking me questions about that little past of yours. That’s just asking for trouble.”

All Willie could do was hold his eye and lay back as Caleb tore up the last of the drawings. Once he finished, Caleb patted himself off and made his way out the door.

“Clean this up,” he told Willie. “And don’t bother doing any more art.”

As the door shut behind him, Willie scrambled onto the floor to search for just one of the drawings. Shuffling through smudged pieces of paper, he saw a few tears drop onto his ruined work. Eventually, he held the picture of his father in two pieces in his hands. Sobbing, he tried to hold them together evenly, but Caleb’s work had made that hard to do. His only hope was to try drawing it again, but he was already terrified of what Caleb’s reaction to that would be if his first one had been this.

A piece of another drawing caught Willie’s eye from underneath. He recognized Caleb’s snarling face from the dream and was surprised at how well it captured what he’d just witnessed. His mind went back to the way he knew the look in Caleb’s eyes. Suddenly, the awful realization dawned on him: he finally understood the dream.

Victoria walked into the club that evening, glad she had taken the time to look and feel fresh. This place was clearly up to snuff and then some. A live band played with dancers scattered throughout, all in bright, sparkly, feathery getup. A tall man with neatly styled dark hair was mesmerizing the crowd as he sang, keeping the energy high. As she was led to a table, Victoria simply sat and watched, greatly impressed with the talent.

Once the man’s solo finished, he bowed, gestured at the band to play on without him, and exited the stage. To Victoria’s surprise, he took the seat directly across from her.

“Ms. Victoria, you look so lovely, how are we this evening?” he asked with a charming smile. “I’m Caleb Covington.”

“Are you kidding me?” she started. “That was you up there? You’re a man of many talents; I’m already dazzled.”

“Oh, well, I hope that remains a constant while you’re here,” he said. "But you came to ask me about some other things, what were they?”

“Yes, I had some questions about Willie.”

Willie sat outside the bodega, unwilling to move for a while. He felt like everything inside of him was empty, as if Caleb had possessed claws and dug everything out until he was left hollow. The many ideas that had risen in his mind in the past few hours were all too much, all at once. If he dared, was he sure he could handle everything that might come his way? Every time he’d heard that ridiculous speech about starting over, becoming his own, yada-yada, he hadn’t considered any of the options he was now contemplating.

He’d already done some things. Already bought some things. Now he got up to collect Sheldon and held him tightly as he nodded to Escobar, who saluted him back. The man had said he didn’t want a dramatic thank you. Stuffing the items he purchased in his bag, he kept a hold of Sheldon as he skated off into the darkness.

“So, you see, Willie isn’t missing. He was abandoned,” Caleb was saying to Victoria. “Poor thing has struggled to adjust. I’ve dealt with some handfuls in the past, but I really have been doing the most for him, and he’s been with me for more than three years. I think it’s really sweet of those boys to raise a concern, and I hate to be a dead end, but that’s the truth of it.”

Victoria sat, nodding in acceptance.

“That makes a lot of sense, Mr. Covington, thank you for providing that for me.”

“Oh, call me Caleb. We’re all friends in here.”

“Okay, then, Caleb,” she corrected. “What got you into foster care?”

He put a hand over his heart and a fond look came over him.

“The youth are just full of so much magic, and I hate to see that their parents have chosen to lay it to waste. I’m the one who takes some of the tougher cases so I can bring out the best in them. You see that young man over there, Dante?” Caleb pointed at one of the dancers. “Classic rebel when he was young. You wouldn’t even know, he’s turned into such a gentleman. There’s a few more here and there in the club. I call them my graduates.”

“Well, I will tell you,” Victoria said. “When I first talked to you on the phone I wasn’t expecting you to be so generous. But now I can see that it’s just how you are.”

Caleb shot her a playful smile.

“Victoria, no need to butter me up. I do have some tight business practices to keep up.”

Fluid poured over every inch of the shed. Willie had made sure it was more than enough to get things going. He’d made sure to get the essentials: food for himself and Sheldon, a few changes of clothes, and a stash of money he’d taken from the safe in Caleb’s bedroom. The man shouldn’t have given him the combination in the first place.

Stepping out of the shed he looked at it one last time. What a sad, lousy existence. Living to perform for this man who shut him up inside this little thing and he had actually called it home? The further he was into his plan, the bolder he began to feel. He remembered when he had missed getting into the Pearl and that feeling of wrongness that had made him so frustrated. This feeling he had right now? It was so right. It was so right it drowned out anything scary about this whole idea.

He looked back at where he had put Sheldon on a small leash and tied him along the fence around Caleb’s backyard. It was definitely a safe distance. Then Willie pulled a box of matches out of his pocket, lit one, and looked at the flame for a minute. He held it just over the threshold of the doorway so it would land inside. It was so weak, like he had been ever since his accident. But he knew it was going to become so powerful, and he desperately hoped that he could retain some of that power for himself.

“Clean this up, Caleb,” he said, and he let his fingers go.

Victoria had stayed just a little longer to enjoy more food and music before standing up and heading toward the door. Caleb saw her on her way out and made her stop for a moment.

“It’s been a lovely night, and I’m grateful for everything you told me,” she said to him.

“Well I’m glad you took the opportunity to see what I have here,” he replied. “If you’re ever in the city again, please stop by. We’re always partying and putting on the best show.”

“Oh, I most certainly will,” she said, smiling as she made her way outside.

Someone tapped on Caleb’s shoulder from behind. Wordlessly, he turned to see who it was and why it was important.

“Sir,” one of his servers said. “You have a phone call. It’s the fire department.”

“What?” Caleb spat as he went to pick it up.

Willie sped along on his board the best that he could with Sheldon in his arms. He carefully made it down the ramp onto the freeway, controlling his speed as well as he could. He could picture Caleb now, just getting back to his home, eyes wide as he came upon the blaze. It was a very strange feeling, but right now Willie chose to focus on his newfound freedom. The cost wasn’t the matter right now. Freedom was all that was going to take him and his cat as far as they could go. The destination for now was Los Angeles.

#julie and the phantoms #jatp #fanfic #jatp fanfic #willex #alive au #alex mercer #willie #luke patterson #reggie peters #bobby wilson #aunt victoria #caleb covington #tw abuse #tw mild violence #viva las vegas #clean this up #fiddlepickdouglas

22 notes · View notes

tokoyamisstuff · 3 years

Text

Betrothed Ch. 9 - Illumi Zoldyck x Reader

Epilogue: Beauty and the Beast

Summary: Leaving the Zoldyck estate to search for your husband, what will await you once you find him?

Warnings: Angst, Violence.

Words: ~2500

Story Masterlist

A/N: The plot is connected to the “Phantom Rogue” movie. In case you haven’t watched it yet (no spoilers don’t worry): The antagonist of the movie uses Nen to create puppets taking after real persons, which even possess their personaliy and memories.

All I ever wanted All I ever needed Is here in my arms Words are very Unnecessary They can only do harm

Depeche Mode - Enjoy the Silence

People tend to say you should be careful what you wish for. Apparently they were right.

At least it worked...somehow.

The last thing you knew was that you had sneaked into Alluka’s cell, wanting to free her just as much as you wanted to find Illumi. Of course her parents weren’t really fond of the idea, so you waited for an opportune moment and asked for Nanika to appear before the family could realize and act against it.

Your wish was pure and without any ill intend - so there would be no consequences.

“Please: Bring me to Illumi. I need to save him!”

So she did as she was told.

You found yourself having been teleported to an unknown place, at bright day even though it was night at the Zoldyck estate. That means you’d be at least on the other side of the world, gladly far enough away for them to quickly try and retrieve Alluka.

All you could make up in between miles of nature was an old building, almost like a chapel.

And in front of it stood Illumi.

“These eyes are strange” he thought out aloud, taking in his environment. “Everything looks so bright.”

“Illu-nii-!” You put a finger in front of Alluka’s lips, signalizing her to stay quiet. Gladly you had appeared in somewhat of an hiding, so no one had noticed you up until now.

Something was off. That thing was surely not Illumi - even if it painfully appeared so.

“Gon!” a blonde girl shoutet in visible distress, “Hang in there! Gon!”

And then it dawned to you: A Nen ability.

Cloning? But why and how? It should be impossible to make such a perfect image of another person, which even seems to think and act on it’s own.

“Give gon his eyes back!” Killua demanded, but got shut down by the clone through a proper kick in his guts. “I can’t do that, Kill.”

You were too late to stop the poor Killua from running away, instead of chasing him deciding to follow the spitting image of your husband - but he had detected you earlier than you anticipated.

“Weird...” he spoke with the voice you had missed so much, staring at you with an empty glare. “You don’t look different.”

A surprised “Huh?” was all you managed to get out at his weird assumption, defendingly standing in front of Alluka.

“Those eyes make everything shine so bright. But you look just as always” the clone statet, almost as if amazed by your sheer appearance.

“You’ve always shined to me, Y/N.”

And like that, he was gone.

There wasn’t much time to think about it, since the screams of that unfamiliar girl got you down to earth again.

“Please, Gon!” she encouraged him as he tried to leave after she wrapped a bandage around his empty eyeholes. “Don’t-”

But he was already gone, chasing Killua to god knows where.

“What the hell...” you mumbled, still holding Alluka firmly in your arms.

Now the girl, which appeared like a puppet as well given a second look, turned to both of you. “Just...who are you? And where did you came from?”

“Long story.” Your answer was short, not wanting to tell anyone about Alluka’s powers. “But I’m a friend of those children. And...I need to find the man from earlier.”

“That was just one of Omokage’s puppets” she explained, pointing towards the direction Gon and Killua ran off to. “I can explain anything on the way. But we need to find them!”

It was already night when you found those two, because even with your superhuman speed you still had a child to take care off.

Seemingly, the two had resolved whatever internal trouble they were having, and much to your surprise Leorio and Kurapika had joined them as well.

“You guys...”

“Y/N?!” All of them went into a defensive position, ready to fight you in case you were a puppet as well. You weren’t mad, though. It was the only plausible reason for them to have magically appeared in here.

“Killu-nii!” Alluka cheered, approaching her brother as fast as her small legs could carry her. You wanted to prevent a reunion like that, but well...

Of course the boy broke out in tears as he remembered his sister he was forced to forget about all those years, the weight of his guilt crushing down on him once again. “I’m so sorry, Alluka...I think I was still under Illu-nii’s influence.”

Your lip began to tremble at his words, having to bite it so they wouldn’t notice that you were about to cry.

“Y/N? Is everything alright?” Damn. Of course they noticed the shift in your aura.

“Come to think of it...” Gon said, unusual sharp intellect considering his usual, blunt nature. “How come you accompany Killua’s sister? Doesn’t that mean you would’ve broken in Kurokoo mountain and fight all the Zoldycks for it?”

“I...uh-”

“Wait a second!” Good for Killua that he regains his cool so fast after having been emotional, but you wish it weren’t like that. “Isn’t that my great-grandmother’s ring? Did you stole it?!”

“Wha- no! Of course not!”

That wasn’t his greatest concern: Did you know about Alluka’s powers, and wanted to have them for yourself? Was that the reason? But how could you ever just invade the Zoldyck property and take what’s theirs without dying at their hands?

None of it made sense, no matter how much he racket his brain around the matter.

“Illu-nii gave it to Y/N for their wedding! Isn’t that cute?”

Everyone’s breath hitched at Alluka’s innocent words, and you could feel even those whose eyes were stolen widen in shock.

Before you could even defend yourself, Killua had tackled you down before sharpening his fingernails and pressing them against your neck, drawing blood.

“Why...?” Kurapika spoke the word that went through everyone’s minds, followed by Killua’s disappointed whisper “Traitor....”

“Because I love Illumi. That’s all.”

The boy then grabbed your shirt, shaking you as if to wake you up from a deep trance. “Love? LOVE?!? You know my brother, damn it!”

“Yeah!” Leorio joined the scolding. “You know very well what he forced Killua to do all those years, and that he tried to kill Gon!”

“I know very well what he’s capable of.” Against all resistance by your friends, you still remained calm and cheerful. “But he’s my husband, and I’ll fight for him until my dying breath.”

You’ve never seen Killua so furious and hurt in your life, and you could understand him:

The man responsible for all of his pain - and someone he considered a friend to fall in love with and defend him.

“Don’t give me that bullshit...” he growled as he let go off of you, tears of anger collecting in the rim of his eyes. “He obviously turned Y/N into a needleman!”

The only one to remain silent was Gon, knowing that he shouldn’t intervene until Killua was done having his rage.

Since the truth was simple, yet hard to accept for someone who had suffered under Illumi’s influence for that long.

“Don’t bully Y/N!” Alluka suddenly blurted out, softly punching her brother’s back.

Killua then refrained from interrogating you any further, turning around to hug his sister once again. You knew the anger he let out was not just against you or your husband, but also out of wdisappointment in himself.

“I’m so sorry, Alluka...I should’ve saved you. Instead, I tried to leave my past behind and also left you alone!”

Alluka was a smart girl, at least emotionally - her mind worked different than the other Zoldycks. She gently put her hand on her brother’s hair, consoling him even though she never really understood how severe the situation at hand was:

“It’s okay! I was’t alone!” she cheered, smiling all innocent from one ear to another. “Big brother Illumi played with me all the time, together with Y/N! We had such fun!”

You smiled gently at the naive girl, knowing everyone would believe her to speak the truth. Picking her up and on your shoulders as she always wanted you to do, you waited for everyone to just process her statement.

“Alluka has spent almost every day at home with us” you proudly declared, as if you were actually her parent. “He’s a bit reserved, of course, but he loves her very much!”

“...that’s so fucked up” Leorio declared as he thought back to the creepy Gittarackur.

Killua was at loss for words, only managing to get out a consensual nod at Leorio.

“Hey!” you snickered mischievously, rumpling up his hair. “I’m your sister in law now. A little more respect!”

“Anyway” Kurapika interrupted, “Where’s Pretz?”

Seems like changing the topic was easier for the group than to keep thinking about that almost impossible constellation.

“She’s a puppet” Gon revealed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, just for you to confirm his thesis.

“And you let Illumi steal your eyes just to follow the nen connected to them?” Giving him a head-butt, you added. “Still the idiot.”

That wasn’t fully true: Those kids sure grew since the last time you’ve met them at the Hunter Exam.

You couldn’t help but laugh at the situation, feeling like a stone was falling off your chest just by being with them.

“I’m glad to meet you again. I’ve missed you so much, guys!”

Leorio had volunteered to take care of Alluka, so she wouldn’t get dragged into the fight, while the others of you headed for Okogame’s hideout.

It was a giant church, so old that it was on the verge of breaking down.

Fitting place for a showdown, you thought.

“You don’t understand the beauty of my art!” was Okogame’s answer as Kurapika demanded for him to set his dead friend free.

“See?” he yelled dramatically as he revealed his puppets. “Pairo’s beauty together with Kurapika’s passionate eyes.”

To be honest, that wouldn’t revoke a reaction inside of you as your mind was always wandering off.

But then, he revealed his other creation.

“And Illumi’s madness, together with Gon’s pure eyes.”

“...”

“Still the damsel in distress, I see.” God, even his voice was just like him. “I thought I’ve teached you better than that, Y/N.”

“Here he comes” Gon stated the obviously, but you had something to tell Killua.

"This isn’t completely him” you whispered as the puppet slowly approached you. “I can sense it: He isn’t nearly as strong as the real deal. And do you know what? He’s influenced by our memories of Illumi. They shape this puppet. That’s why he’s so scary to you, do you understand? That’s just how you depicture your brother.”

Killua knew what you really wanted to say: As you were now, you could easily end this - but Killua needed to defeat his fears himself.

The puppet came to a halt in front of his younger brother.

“Emotions are obsolete.” Ironically, it seemed that the puppet couldn’t avert his gaze from you, only making you crave your husband more. “Don’t value any of those pathetic commitments.”

“T-That’s wrong.” You were so proud of Killua, because even though he was almost frozen in place out of fear he was able to talk back to his brother. “I made friends, and it’s a great feeling.”

“You’re being silly, Kill” he declared as he pointed at you. “Do you see Y/N over there? I tried it myself. And guess what: They betrayed me. Ran away from me, scared. And now I’m all alone again.

Ouch. Even the puppet was hurt by your actions back then.

“But killing is something we can always do. It gives us power, makes us feel alive. Fear is the only reliable way of controling someone. We don’t need friends. We can manipulate people. Otherwise they will only hurt and betray you. So if they disobey: Kill them.”

“S-Shut up!” both you and Killua shoutet in unison.

“Kill me, then” he whispered into Killua’s ear, “Come on. Prove that I’m wrong.”

So that’s the monster Killua saw in Illumi all those years...

“Lumi...” you couldn’t help but sob, “I didn’t want to let you down...”

“Don’t interfere” the puppet spoke, throwing several needles at you at once. “I don’t have any business with you anymore. This is a family matter.”

“I like the outfit!” you laughed it off, avoiding the needles as if it was nothing. “Feels just like sparring back then!”

“You’ve always been too careless, Y/N. Because I had a soft spot for you. But I’m not going easy on you now - my order is to leave none of you alive.

A few needles pinned you to the wall, making you realize you weren’t fully concentrated.

You didn’t want to fight your husband, even though that’s not really him, so you were unknowingly holding back.

“We knew it would eventually end that way” the puppet spoke, the dark void in his eyes reminding you of the Illumi you got to know before your marriage. “Even though I’m almost sad about it.”

Your head fell in defeat, too hurt to see the love of your life suffering for so long. May as well let him hurt you a bit, to punish yourself and feel what he felt.

“I’m so sorry, Lumi.” Your answer and lack of struggle actually made him taken aback for a second, until the mission that Okogame’s nen imprinted on the puppet forced him to continue.

“Hey!” Killua yelled as he kicked another set of needles out of his hand, “We are your enemies! You said it yourself!”

Of course they had their own intentions: Getting back Kurapika’s eyes, save Pretz, overcome the trauma Illumi had put on Killua...

But you were thankful that your friends tried to avoid you having to end Illumi’s life, even if only in a metaphorical sense.

The real fight didn’t even take a whole minute, with Gon and Killua only taking a few hits until they pierced the puppet’s heart with unified strenght.

Immediately, you rushed to his side, caughting the stiff body before it hit the ground.

“Why do you stay with me, Y/N...?”

You grabbed his hand, feeling honest compassion for the artifical being as you cried out “Because you’re being loved. By me, and Alluka and even Killua! I’ll find the real you, and save you no matter what!”

“I see...” The puppet robotically touched your cheek, movements not really different from the real Illumi at the beginning from your relationship. “Maybe I was wrong about trust after all.”

A small smile played on his face as your lips hesistantly touched, while you simultaneously pressed a knife inside of him to end it all.

“Rest now” you said what Illumi had always told you when you were upset. Okogame’s curse couldn’t force his will onto the puppet now that he wasn’t able to get up ever again.

And Illumi collected the last bit of strenght as his body slowly dissolved into nen.

At least in the end he wasn’t alone - until death does you part.

“I guess dying through your hands doesn’t feel all that bad.”

_____

If you want to get on the taglist or get removed from feel free to ask! ♡

@roseburry-jam @food-cures-all @oprah-winfriess @ullinic @sun-and-moon-elfingsmeme @chocolateislovr @sapphic-ghoul@coco724 @jessiejunebug @yukiwins@weflyinfluff@readlatersnowy @gibk @spasmodicterror @djgirl66@pweeenis@trblsicheng @theromaniangirl @cluelessmxnd@s1sterofthemoon @spasmodicterror @note-reblog @tamxixxx@orophaea @frankenduffy @cinnamon-beans @8-ash@cherryyongs @destructive-memories @patheticgay69@sappyisyourpappy @sadferalgremlin @selca11 @itsfakearies@djgirl66 @rizawantspizza@g-creevan913 @oprah-winfriess@actressania @rolo-at-midnight @slutforpapawise @myminmango @scatter-mind001 @mimilovesfantrolls @the-temple-pythoness@g-creevan913 @jovialnoise @gibk @callumi @jiminie666@justhavefunwithit @nadzhaf @corpse-deactivated20011031 @mariana-127 @menhwra @rolo-at-midnight @jaz-plaz @loser-alert @illumifucker69 @leenaofarc @catlovesdogs17 @softvgold @gibk @bungeedummy @cinnamon-beans @illum1swhore @avaskylynnbrook @winchescumberholland @beifongt @kalxswin @reblogmeplease @kola95 @xxx-angelic@megurururu @melkuuu12 @angrymuffoun @illumiswifx @lunasin @yukiwins @angrymuffoun @shinakugo @avaskylynnbrook @heda-mikaelson @toandtvd-daily @aryu-azaha @bbunnycore @night-shadowblood-writes2 @jasonpetertoddismygod @oya-noya @lolnoyoudontknowme

Feedback is always appreciated!

#Illumi Zoldyck #Illumi x Reader #Illumi Zoldyck x Reader #HxH #Arranged Marriage AU #Self Insert #Fanfiction #Illumi Zoldyck x You #Illumi x You #Illumi/Reader #Illumi/You #Illumi Zoldyck/Reader #Illumi Zoldyck/You

85 notes · View notes

strange-lace · 3 years

Text

Did you think I was joking when I said my Monkie Kid, Nagi, becomes a pseudo therapist for the team? FOOLISH, SHAPESHIFTING MEANS FREE THERAPY! But I have no idea what this is, I just started writing for some hurt/comfort (I think) post episode 9 and wanted to post it without editing because why not? Plus I just wanted to do some more with Nagi since it’s been a hot minute since I talked about her.

Enjoy and hopefully you get some chuckle worthy mental images like it did for me!

It was an odd sensation to Nagi, shapeshifting that is.

The closest way she could describe it is like that of her body becoming clay, free to be morphed into anything that she desired as long as she had a clear image in her head and enough practice. Hair length, color, height, weight, vocal cords, all were free for her to change and allow herself to fit into any setting like a chameleon. Or more accurately, like a snake camouflaged into its surroundings, waiting for the perfect moment to strike at its prey.

The sensation of always feeling like she was hiding among others was one Nagi had felt since birth.

It had only gotten worse with the sacrifices forced on her that made her shapeshifting even stronger.

Some days, she felt like her ability to become anyone was more trouble than it was worth.

But this was certainly not one of those days.

“Are you sure about this kiddo? Remember, the moment it becomes too much for you, all you gotta do is say something and I’ll shift into something else. This is meant to help you above all else, got it?” Nagi lectured for what felt like the third time, wanting to hammer in the point to MK before they began. When the little guy had entered her cave at the crack of dawn asking for a favor, this was certainly not what she was expecting.

Then again, Nagi was still a sluggish mess when MK had shaken her from her slumber in a frantic desperation.

“Uhhh, what’s goin’ on kid? What time is it?” She slurred, noting the faint rays of blue, pink, and orange barely providing a break from the darkness in her cave. The last traces of sleep snapped away from her eyes once she took notice of MK who, to put it bluntly, was an absolute mess.

Dark rings circled his eyes, hair a tousled mess without his signature headband, and clothes rumpled as if he had slept in them. Though Nagi genuinely questioned if he had even slept throughout the night. Wait, were those bruises?

“Nagi can you… can you shift into someone you’ve never met before?” MK asked, completely ignoring her questions. He seemed almost tense as he stood at the edge of Nagi’s nest, a giant cluster of pillows that she had collected over the years.

“That depends bud. If you give me a detailed enough picture, then sure. No guarantee I’ll have the voice right, but it can be done. Why do you ask? You need my help with something?” She pulled herself out of her nest, letting out a groan as her stiff bones cracked yet kept her eyes on MK. He seemed almost relieved at this answer, heavy shoulders relaxing the slightest bit before pulling out one of his many sketchbooks from his jacket. Pages were flipped through with frantic speed before he found what he was looking for, practically shoving the book in Nagi’s face.

At first she had thought it was a drawing of Sun Wukong until she took notice of the dark fur and, more importantly, the almost sadistic smirk on his face. He was surrounded by shadows that seemed to sprout from the ground at his feet, all with matching grins and empty purple eyes. Overall, it was certainly an ominous picture of an individual that Nagi hoped to never have the misfortune of meeting.

But evidently, MK did.

“Would that work?” Okay, now MK was starting to make her worried.

“Uhhh… sure, yeah. And not that this isn’t a wonderful art, but you mind telling me who this guy is? A friend of Sun Wukong’s perhaps?” Nagi asked and internally winced when he seemed to flinch at the question. MK was silent for a moment, as if debating with himself whether to tell her, before simply giving a sigh.

“That’s Macaque. I… I’ll tell you more later, I promise. I just need you to do this important favor for me.” She was starting to not like where this was going. But the demon could never say no to the kid, the heavens help her.

“Alright, you already know I’m willing to kill for you so out with it bud.”

“I need you to shift into Macaque and just… I don’t know, whatever with me. I just want to not be afraid of his face anymore,” MK mumbled, his knuckles white at how tight he was holding on to his sketchbook. All sorts of alarm bells were going off in Nagi’s head at this and a part of her wanted to push for more information now, so she can find this Macaque and skin him alive. But that wasn’t going to help MK right now, so she pushed that heat in her chest down.

“Alright, that I think I can do bud. Let me go get my rollerblades and KO!”

And that led to where they were now, at the outskirts of the city with Nagi wanting nothing more to ensure that MK was comfortable.

“I know, I know Nagi! Just… do it before I chicken out, please?”

“Alright, alright, as long as you’re sure.” With that, Nagi closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She focused on the image MK had given her and felt her very being soften like clay to be molded. Her hair morphed into thick, black fur which spread over her body, clothes shifted to match the armored garments in the drawing, and she gained a familiar tail and large ears. It felt none too different to when she shifts into the Monkey King himself if she were to be honest.

Yet the look of uneasiness and fear Nagi was met with when she opened her eyes made her want nothing more to shift into anybody else.

“You still with me MK?” She asked tentatively, remaining perfectly still despite her wanting to scoop him up in a hug. MK gave another flinch, this time at hearing Nagi’s squeaky, hissy voice coming out of what looked like Macaque yet at the same time he couldn’t help but chuckle at the bizarre contrast. It quickly became a full on laugh as Nagi gave him an expression of exaggerated offense, the demon quickly catching on to the best idea on how to make this face less terrifying.

“I’m- I’m sorry, but hearing your voice come out of Macaque’s mouth is too funny!” He stuttered and the ache in her heart started to lighten up, just relieved to see the young man not as tense.

“I’ll have you know I have the voice of a goddess, young man!” Nagi said with an over-the-top huff, hands on her hips and a pout on her face. That only caused another bout of uncontrollable giggles from MK and she couldn’t help the smile on her face before taking the opportunity to put on her rollerblades. She was completely aware of how ridiculous she looked since said rollerblades were bright pink and decorated with numerous stickers courtesy of Mei.

Oh, Nagi was going to have so much fun ruining this Macaque’s reputation, whoever he was.

“Now, do me a favor and push me. I’m gonna skate down this entire hill backwards!”

“Isn’t that, I don’t know, kind of dangerous?”

“Oh it is, which is why I’m doing it and not you.”

Despite the look of skepticism on his face, that was enough for MK as he gave her a hearty shove. Nagi didn’t bother to hold back the scream of both terror and joy as gravity pulled her down the hill, frantic giggles punctuating the air. MK merely watched the spectacle with amusement as Nagi continued on into the city streets. She practically flew past confused pedestrians at the speed she was going, a number of those did double takes to be sure of what they saw.

The sound of a crash caused him to wince and quickly use the staff to pole vault over to where the demon had come to an unfortunate stop.

“You okay?!” Despite being covered in trash and hit a dumpster hard enough to make a dent in the metal, Nagi looked giddy as a child.

“I’m all good bud, thankfully I didn’t break my spine so it was totally worth it!” She said, prying herself out of her dumpster crater and happily brushed herself off. Seeing such a toothy but genuine smile combined with Macaque’s face was strange to MK, but he managed to not flinch as Nagi rose to her full height so it was a start. “Want to hit the arcade next? Or are you too afraid of your big sister beating you at all your favorite games?”

That certainly perked him up.

“Oh you’re so on!”

“That’s the spirit! Race you!” And like that, Nagi was off again though at a much more controlled speed and MK wasn’t too far behind.

“Hey that’s not fair, you’re on rollerblades!”

Up above the streets on his nimbus, Sun Wukong watched the two with an unidentifiable expression.

“No way, you absolutely cheated!” MK repeated for the third time, being carried on piggyback by Nagi as the demon skated down to Pigsy’s Noodles. It was now dusk and the both of them were still riding the high of spending a whole day goofing off for therapeutic purposes.

“I don’t know, that sounds like sore loser talk to me. But… did you have a good time bud? How are you feeling?” Nagi asked, tone turning completely serious. MK was quiet a moment, tightening his grip around her shoulders the slightest bit before speaking.

“Yeah, yeah I had a great time. I feel… weird. Because a part of me knows that I spent the day with you, not… him. But at the same time, I’m gonna remember you crashing into a dumpster if I ever see his face again and possibly die from laughing.”

“Then it sounds like my work here is done, ruining reputations is my forte after all!” She came to stop in front of the noodle shop, ears downturned in disappointment. Yet the demon still put MK down, knowing that Pigsy would have her head if she kept the kid out after dark when he had work the next day. “But I’m glad I could help you out kiddo. You get some good rest, alright? I’ll be around to bother you and Pigsy tomorrow.”

And Nagi thought that would be that, until she found herself pulled into a tight hug by MK.

“Thank you.”

She returned the hug without hesitation.

“Don’t mention it.”

Nagi stayed put until she was sure MK made it inside his apartment safely before turning around to return to her cave. After such a busy day, she was ready to curl up in her nest and finish that book Tang had loaned her weeks ago. Maybe brew some tea while she was at it.

Or that was the plan, until she caught the scent of peaches and mischief on her serpentine tongue as she stopped at the entrance of her cave.

“Oh no, not him,” Nagi groaned, secretly hoping that was just the remnants of MK’s scent. Unfortunately that was not the case as she walked inside to find the Monkey King lounging about her home like he owned the place and eating her apples. Resisting the urge to lose it for that alone, the demon took a deep breath and forced a smile that was all teeth.

“Sun Wukong, to what do I owe the pleasure?” She said as if it were anything but a pleasure to be around him. Despite the venom in her tone, the Monkey King continued to lazily chomp on an apple as he finally faced her. Her displeasure quickly evaporated once she noticed how tense he seemed despite the forced nonchalance.

“Hey Nag, took you forever to get here! Saw you hanging out with the kid today.” And despite his attempt to sound serious, Nagi could only blame hanging out with Mei and MK for what she said next.

“R-Rebecca it’s not what you think!”

“I won’t hesitate bitch!” Seems the Monkey King has been around the kids too long too.

They were both silent for a moment in an attempt to process what happened before the tension broke as they both giggled.

“I don’t know what to tell you man. He just woke me up this morning, asked me if I could shift into this guy called Macaque, and we just did dumb, fun stuff all day. Went out of my way to make the kid laugh until I was sure he’d lose a lung. But he never did tell me why he was so afraid of this face…” Tea. She really needed tea right now. So tea she began to make, not even realizing she had grabbed two cups and was making peach tea until it was too late.

“Oh he didn’t, huh?” Nagi gave him a silent nod, tail twitching in agitation as silence took over again.

“What did this guy do to the kid Wukong? What happened?”

“It’s a long story but let me say you don’t need to hunt him down because we beat him up plenty, it was mainly the kid though.” His pride in MK was infectious as she found herself smiling at that, handing Sun Wukong a mug of warm peach tea as she sat down next to him.

“Good, saves me the effort of doing it myself. I won’t push if either of you don’t want to tell me. But… listen, I’m not just here to help the kid and the others. You annoy the hell out of me but I’m here for you too Wukong. That’s what family does, right?”

The Monkey King was silent at that yet leaned in when Nagi wrapped her tail around his shoulders to gently pull him closer.

“Thanks Nag.”

“You’re welcome.”

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #mk #sun wukong #monkie kid oc #nagi #fanfiction #my writing

39 notes · View notes

ayoungpadwn · 4 years

Note

Ohhhh anakin is so the main pitcher on the high school baseball team. He is very popular and well known around the school. Obi-Wan is like a classic art kid, his only friend is the Ceramics teacher, and he spends his lunches in some hidden spot reading alone. One day Anakins friends find Obi Wan and start to bug him, and while he does nothing, he comes back the next day to apologize and get to know Obi Wan. Over time they become inseparable and every art project Obi makes from then on is for Ani

this has... literally been sitting in my ask box for WEEKS. I’m--so sorry...

but carrying on with the idea because YES

- Anakin is most definitely the star pitcher since the beginning of his sophomore year all the way to his senior year. EVERYONE knows him. He is Coruscant’s poster boy, the golden child. The /Chosen Pitcher/ if you will.

- He became most well known for getting Coruscant to the finals his sophomore year, which hadn’t happened in, like, 20+ years.

- All this praise obviously boosted his ego, especially his sophomore year when he first became the star pitcher. That made him super arrogant and he got roped into the super popular group, so the not-so-popular crowd tends to steer clear of Anakin, since his arrogance and popularity tends to fall with the stereotype of a bully.

- BUT whenever people do have an interaction with Anakin, they are always surprised to find that he can be strangely down to earth, really chill and kind. This made him even more popular his Junior year, since now he’s known as the super nice, yet arrogant, star pitcher.

- He can basically be friends with everyone.

- Girls fall for him left and right, and he has a reputation as a player just for that reason.

- Yet, strangely enough, no one has ever actually seen him /with/ anyone. 👀

- Anakin’s whole reputation of being a player, an arrogant pitcher, super popular, and oddly kind is what made Obi-Wan steer clear of Anakin throughout most of their time in high school.

- At least... Obi-Wan steered clear of him when he knew people were watching. His own friends liked to make fun of the baseball team, just as the baseball team tended to like to make fun of his friends: the theatre and art nerds.

- That’s when Obi-Wan started to sneak out to watch the baseball games during Anakin’s sophomore year, just because there was something about the pitcher Obi-Wan couldn’t get out of his head and he needed to know more about.

- He was taking a big risk going to the games, since he ran the chance of being made fun of not just by the baseball players, but his own friends as well. Even if his friends joked about it in a playful way.

- Obi-Wan was definitely a loner in high school. He had a small group of friends, but who he was closest to had to be his arts teacher. He spent most of his lunches with Mr. Qui-Gon Jinn, either to just talk or work on an art piece.

- For fun, Obi-Wan started to draw and paint some of the baseball games he went to. The pivotal moments of the games, when everything came down to a single pitch, or hit, or run. Soon enough he had an entire collection of baseball works, and Qui-Gon /loved/ them. He insisted that Obi-Wan work on more and submit them to the College Board for AP credit.

- So, that became Obi-Wan’s excuse for going to the games. He had to “work on his art concentration for class.”

- During the baseball games he would hide at the very far point of the field, past the scoreboard. It gave him a terrible view of the pitching mound, but it kept him rather concealed. At least the first year.

- Obi-Wan wasn’t popular in any sense of the word, only known as the quiet liberal arts kid. So he thought that going to the games he wouldn’t even be recognized if he got caught. But how wrong he was...

- It was Anakin’s junior year, Obi-Wan’s own senior year, when he finally got caught by two of Anakin’s teammates.

- “What’chu workin’ on, sweater?” a couple of the Coruscant players had chosen to warm up their arms by tossing to each other at the back of the outfield, which gave them a perfect view of Obi-Wan.

- Obi-Wan had glanced down at his sketchbook before bringing it to his chest, trying to hide the sketch he had made of Anakin practicing. “It doesn’t concern you,” Obi-Wan had said back.

- The situation escalated from there. One of the players hopped the fence to come grab the sketchbook from Obi-Wan, resulting in the coach coming to yell at the player. And of course Anakin, the newly voted-in captain came to investigate as well. Because that is just Obi-Wan’s luck.

- The player finally ripped the sketchbook from Obi-Wan’s grasp and laughed at what he saw, “He’s drawing Anakin! What, you got a crush or something?”

- “It’s for my art class!” Obi-Wan bit back and reached for the sketchbook, only for the player to toss it to Anakin before he could grab it.

- It felt like the breath had stilled in Obi-Wan’s lungs as Anakin looked down at the piece, his face totally unreadable. There was a brief moment that Obi-Wan was terrified that Anakin would flip through the pages, but the star pitcher simply folded the sketchbook up before passing it back to Obi-Wan.

- “Get back to practice, you two,” Anakin had said to the players before walking away.

- Obi-Wan decided he needed to stop going to baseball games after that.

- It was exactly four days after the incident when Obi-Wan was coming back late to school to pick up a ceramics piece he had accidentally left. As he made his way to the art room, he realized he had to pass by the baseball field. Just as practice was getting out. Shit.

- He tried to speed past the players, and it seemed that he was home free as he passed the dugout. Except, “Hey, you!”

- Obi-Wan froze to the spot, turning on his heels to see who had called for him.

- And honestly Obi-Wan could hardly believe that it was /Anakin/ who was jogging after him, face flushed red and sweaty from practice.

- The pitcher panted to catch his breath as he came to a stop in front of him, “Kriff, you walk fast,” Anakin laughed.

- Obi-Wan blinked at him waiting for him to continue.

- Anakin cleared his throat, “Anyway, I just wanted to apologize for the other day. My teammates are--”

- “It’s fine,” Obi-Wan hastily said, ready to bring the conversation to a close. He need nor did he want Anakin’s sympathy. Obi-Wan was just embarrassed, it was best to leave what happened behind him.

- Anakin smacked his lips, “Right, well... I just wanted to say I thought your drawing was really cool. I’d love to see more of them.” Obi-Wan blinked at him, so Anakin hurriedly added, “Only if you want me to, of course! You don’t have to... y’know. Yeah, okay, I think I’m gonna--” Anakin motioned behind him with his thumbs as he started walking backwards, nearly tripping over his own two feet. “I think I’ve embarrassed myself enough for one day,” Anakin laughed awkwardly, “See you around, Obi-Wan!”

- Obi-Wan watched as Anakin turned and rushed away, disappearing around a corner.

- How had he known his name?

- The third time Obi-Wan had an interaction with Anakin was during lunch one day. He was sat outside reading against a tree when Anakin approached him once again. At first Obi-Wan disregarded the other’s presence, but it became harder to do so when the pitcher set his bag down and sat directly in front of him.

- Obi-Wan dropped his book into his lap and pulled out an earphone, looking at Anakin quizzically.

- “Hey!” the pitcher chirped, his face split in a grin.

- “Hello there,” Obi-Wan greeted as he leaned forward and fluffed out his sweater.

- Anakin’s eyes tracked the movement, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you without a sweater on. It’s like ninety degrees out, how are you not dying?”

- Obi-Wan shrugged, “I run cold. Though I could say the same for you, you have a jacket on in this weather.”

- “I come from Tatooine, that place is literally a desert. I’m used to it being twice as hot as it is now.” Anakin shifted his weight as he leaned back onto his hands, “Anyway, I came to bug you again about the... art pieces?”

- Obi-Wan couldn’t help but laugh, “You are incredibly interested in those.” Anakin smiled proudly and tilted his head. “Well,” Obi-Wan continued, “I don’t have any with me at the moment. I suppose if you would like to stay after school and come with me to the art room, you can look through as many as you would like.”

- Anakin had done just that, much to Obi-Wan’s surprise. The pitcher was already waiting at the art room door by the time Obi-Wan had arrived.

- Obi-Wan was still somewhat hesitant to show Anakin all that he’d done, but his nerves were quickly eased by Anakin’s reactions. You would have thought that the baseball player had never seen art before with how he praised the pieces Obi-Wan showed him.

- Qui-Gon kept flashing Obi-Wan knowing glances from his desk, much to Obi-Wan’s dismay.

- Eventually, though, the art teacher had to kick them out, which meant it was time to go their separate ways.

- “I’d love to hang out again, you’re a super cool guy, Obi-Wan.” Anakin had said as they walked to the student parking lot.

- “Super cool guy,” Obi-Wan repeated and laughed, “I do not think anyone has ever said that about me before.”

- Soon enough, Anakin and Obi-Wan became inseparable. In secret, of course. No one in their own friend groups knew that they were hanging out with each other.

- Obi-Wan quickly came to realize why people always had nice things to say about Anakin. While the pitcher was arrogant, he was accepting and kind and more down to earth than Obi-Wan could have ever anticipated.

- There was one night where they decided to go stargazing in the back of Anakin’s truck, when Obi-Wan finally found the nerves to ask:

- “That day when you came up to me to apologize for your teammates, you knew my name. But I never told you what it was. How did you know it?”

- Anakin had paused, and it was hard to read exactly what the pitcher was thinking in the darkness of night.

- “Don’t be... weirded out, okay?” Anakin began.

- Obi-Wan had taken pause but said, “I won’t be,” nonetheless.

- “I was sorta watching you for a while before that day at the game. Not in, like, a stalking way!” Anakin was hurried to say, “But you just struck my interest. You were alone most of the time yet you always looked so peaceful and there was something in your eyes that I couldn’t get out of my mind.”

- Obi-Wan swallowed and opted to not reply.

- “I noticed you at nearly every game, ever since last year. And I wanted to go up and talk to you, but I didn’t necessarily know how to go about it. That’s why I’m sort of glad my teammates tried to bully you. It gave me an excuse to actually /talk/ with you, the person who I was too scared to approach since last year.”

- Obi-Wan paused and turned his head to watch Anakin, “Anakin... do you like me?”

- The pitcher flinched away quickly, as if burned, and whipped his head around to look at Obi-Wan. “What--I’ve never... I’m not... I don’t like guys.”

- Obi-Wan blinked at him before pushing himself to sit up, Anakin following suit. “Dear one,” Obi-Wan began, and even in the pale light he saw Anakin’s face turn a shade of pink, “Have you ever kissed a guy?”

- “I’ve... kissed girls.” Anakin provided.

- “Okay, and how did it feel?”

- Anakin fell silent.

- “Anakin,” Obi-Wan murmured and lifted a hand to run his fingers along Anakin’s jaw. The younger’s eyes were trained to his lips, as if an animal preparing to pounce.

- Obi-Wan inched forward, their lips a hair widths apart. He had to know if Anakin was going to...

- Anakin crushed their lips together, their teeth clattering together with the force of the kiss. Anakin quickly swiped his tongue along Obi-Wan’s bottom lip, asking for entrance.

- Soon enough, Anakin had lowered them to the back of the truck, laying together lazily as Obi-Wan let Anakin map out his mouth and body. The pitcher was moving with a burning hunger, as if he were a man starved of the touch he had so longed for.

- Neither of them truly knew what the kiss meant in that moment, but neither of them truly cared.

#obikin #ask

61 notes · View notes

spnwriter · 4 years

Text

Yes, you idiot

Summary: What happens when Sam accidentally catches you getting off.

Warning: Language, Smut.

The brothers were going on a hunt together. I had just gotten back from my own. I decided that I was going to stay behind. I have never been so happy to have the bunker to myself. I love Sam and Dean. It's just sometimes they're a bit much to be around all the time. Alone time is rare. When you hunt with someone you live in their pockets. The concept of space is nonexistent. Sam and Dean try to give me as much privacy as they can. Ever the gentlemen, they get me a separate room when they can. All though they try to give me space when I am in the bathroom, it doesn't always work out that way. There have been many times we've all accidentally walked in on each other

I can confidently say that both Winchesters are packing. It's interesting how little shame the pair has when it comes to nudity. I guess they're used to it only being the two of them. I do catch Sam blushing when he remembers that I can see his entire naked ass. Both Winchester's are a work of art. They are so pretty. I don't think they realize how beautiful they are. The real reason I'm so grateful to be alone is to have space away from Sam. He's shown more skin in the past couple of months than he has since I've known him. It's starting to affect the way I see the taller Winchester. I tried my hardest to never see the brothers in a sexual light. I knew that if I ever started having feelings for either of them, it would get complicated. I am hoping that this whatever it is with Sam is the result of sexual frustration. It's been a while since I've had time to get myself off. Let alone have sex. Yeah, that's it. I just need some time with my vibrator. Now that the bunker was empty that's precisely what I plan on doing. I have the luxury of being able to take my time.

I strip down before laying out on my bed. God it's been so long. I take the time to tease kneed my boobs. I pinch my pierced nipples. I run my hands down my stomach to my thighs. I tease myself by running my hands up and down my thighs. I want to draw this out. It's been so long since I've had the time to tease myself. I run a finger through my lips. Nice and wet. I tease my clit with my fingers before I turn on the vibrator. I start on the lowest setting. I open my eyes briefly and think I see Sam standing by the door. I brush it off, closing my eyes. I turn up the speed. I hear the sound of my door hitting the wall. I jump as I pull the blankets over myself. I did see Sam standing in the doorway. My eyes widen. Sam bumps into the door as he runs away. Needless to say, the mood was ruined.

Neither of us said anything about it when he got back. He hardcore avoided me for days. I don't blame him. I'd do the same. How do you talk about that? Oh, Sorry I watched you playing with yourself. I'd never seen the younger Winchester so flustered before. When he finally stopped avoiding me. I thought things would go back to normal. I was wrong. I didn't think I'd ever heard Sam Winchester stutter before. He couldn't get out a full word without a stammer in his speech. Dean thought it was amusing seeing Sam so flustered. I was honestly tired of it. I missed my friend. I didn't have anyone to go running with me anymore. I asked Dean one morning. He said no among other things. Whatever is up with Sam had been going on for three weeks at this point. I am getting fed up with his constant uneasiness. As awkward as this conversation is going to be, we have to have it. The last time I had seen him, he was hiding in his room. I hesitate to knock on the door. I can't chicken out. Sam and I need to clear the air. I knock lightly. I don't hear an answer. He's going back to avoiding me I guess.

I let out a frustrated sigh as I open his door. "Look-" I start to speak. I stop when I notice that Sam is fully naked. He's got his hand wrapped around his impressive erection. He covers himself quickly. His face flushed and slightly sweaty. I can't tell if he's blushing or not. "I guess we're even now." Sam attempts to joke. "You watched for longer," I say. Why did I say that? I'm supposed to be making things less awkward between us. "I did." He admits. He looks me up and down. He takes his bottom lip in between his teeth. "To be truly even, you'd have to watch me." Is he serious? I can see the lust swimming around in his eyes. He's giving me the option to walk away. I knew that if I did, he wouldn't bring it up. We'd just forget this whole thing happened. I don't know if I can walk away from him. I can't stop thinking about how he looked at me. "I haven't stopped thinking about you since that day," Sam admits. "All spread out, dripping wet. So fucking beautiful." And just like that, I've made up my mind. "Well, what are you waiting for?" I ask. I take a seat in the chair at his desk. He smirks at me. He pulls the sheets off of his body. His length bobs as he adjusts. I knew he was packing but, damn when he's hard. He wraps his hand around himself. He strokes himself slowly while eyeing me. "Need some inspiration, Sammy?" I ask. He nods as he speeds up his strokes. I stand up. I pull my shirt over my head. I tease both of us as I run my hands down my sides. I cup my boobs still in my bra. His eyes glaze over with lust as I squeeze myself. I turn around. I unclip my bra. I let it slide off my shoulders. He moans at the action. I decided to stop teasing him. I turn to face him showing him my chest. His eyes find the shiny metal on my nipples. I play with the piercings briefly. He uses his thumb to swipe across the tip. "Get over here." Sam moans. I finish stripping quickly. I straddle him. His hands move to my hips. He leans up to kiss me. It's all teeth and tongue. One of his hands moves to run along my pussy. "Already so wet." Sam moans. "Does seeing me jack off turn you on baby girl?" I whine at the name. He hums as he inserts his middle finger into me. "Sam" "So tight too." He adds another finger. He rubs against that special spot that no man has ever found. "Sam, please," I whine. I grind against his hand. "Please what?" "Please fuck me." He doesn't respond but, he pulls his fingers out. He takes them into his mouth moaning at the taste of me. God, that's so hot. "I have to taste you later. I've got to be inside you now." He reaches for his cock. He runs it along my center. He bumps it against my clit. "Sam," I whine. I lift myself to press down on to him. The burn of him stretching me feels amazing. It seems like he's never going to bottom out. He lets out a groan as he finally bottoms out.

"Feels so good." Sam groans. He grips my hips to help me bounce. The drag of his cock on my walls feels fantastic. He catches my lips as I ride him. He suddenly wraps his arms around my body. He moves me to my back. His face is pressed against my neck. He pulls almost all the way out before he slams back into me. "Fuck." I moan as he grips his headboard. He's ramming into me. He brings one of his hands to my clit. His thumb makes tight circles on it. "Gonna cum for me? Cum all over my cock." Sam groans. He grinds into as he thrust back in. "Fuck, so tight." "Holy shit, I'm gonna cum." I warn as His thrust quicken. I can tell he's close. He starts to lose his rhythm. The band in my stomach snaps. I moan out a series of his name.

"Fuck, Y/N." Sam grunts as he cums. His warm seed releases inside me. He thrust a few more times before collapsing on top of me. He keeps most of his weight off of me. He takes his head out of my neck. He places a soft kiss on my lips. A stark contrast to the other kisses we've shared. He pulls out. I feel his cum run down to the sheets. He wraps his arms around me and, pulls me into his chest. I rest my head on his solid chest. I don't question what happened or why. I just enjoy the feeling of having him close. He presses a kiss to the side of my head. "I uh... I know it's usually done the other way around but, I like you, Like a lot. It's okay if you don't feel the same. If this was a one time kind of thing for you. That's cool. We can pretend it never happened. I just, I don't want it to be a one time kind of thing." Sam whispers. "I like you too," I admit. I've known all along that I had feelings for the giant. I just didn't want to admit it. I was afraid of losing him. "You do?" He asks hope filling his voice.

"Yes, you idiot."

#Supernatural smut #sam winchester smut #spnsmut

108 notes · View notes

taetaesbaebaepsae · 4 years

Text

Hues

A/n: Part 3 of soulmate au commission for @if-i-rise-with-yoongs!

Summary: Taehyung has lived his life in a world of gray, using clay to express his artistic ability - until he meets you.

Warnings: mostly fluff, hint of sensuality and a titch of angst, no real smut just hints, arthoe!taehyung

Word Count: 2163

Taehyung loves the way clay feels in his hands, how it smells like earth and home, how it sticks beneath his nails, works itself into the creases of his palms.

His love of art started early, despite his condition, and sculpting was a way to get past it, a way to create, letting his hands bring forth what's in his head.

You'd think one couldn't miss what they'd never known, but Taehyung buys art that is said to have the most vibrant colors, runs his fingers along the paint as if he can feel them through his skin.

He's seen the world in dull gray his whole life, and it's rare but not unheard of, and for anyone else it wouldn't be much of a handicap but Taehyung longs to be able to see them, wishes he could dream in color.

Instead, he sculpts, and he gets good at it, ends up selling his work at a local gallery and eventually, a showcase.

He's a bit nervous at the opening, has two glasses of champagne, and of course his friends come, although Namjoon is uncharacteristically distracted, scratching at his forearm, eyes darting around the room.

Taehyung accepts a third glass of champagne and wanders around the room, finds himself standing behind a girl trailing her hand along his favorite piece, a female angel with wings instead of arms, nailed to the ground.

You jump when he says hello, yank your hands away. "I'm so sorry," you mumble. "I shouldn't touch."

You turn and look up into his eyes, smiling, and nervously tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and Taehyung can't help but notice the rose clip in your hair, it stands out for some reason and when he realizes why he gasps out loud, can't help himself from reaching out to touch it.

You don't pull away, just give him a quizzical look.

"Your clip...is it...is that red?"

"More of a dusky rose, I'd say. Why?"

Taehyung swallows, doesn't know how to say it, how to tell you suddenly he's seeing colors when he's lived in black and gray his whole life.

"What's your name?" He blurts.

"Y/n. You're the sculptor, right? You're so talented." You gush, and he feels his cheeks flush at the praise.

Taehyung has never been very good with words, using his hands instead so he lets them guide him once more, takes your hand to guide your fingers over the grooves of the wings of his sculpture.

"You were right to touch," he murmurs. "Sometimes our touch can show us things our eyes cannot."

"She's beautiful," you breathe, and he nods but he's looking at the profile of your face as you say it, wants to trace the line of your jaw with his fingers.

Taehyung ends up following you around most of the night, enamoured by the passion in your voice when you tell him you're an artist, too, when you talk about your work, the vibrant colors you use. He wants to see it, now that he can see shades of pink, and now that he thinks of it, he can see the color you'd mentioned, a dusky rose, stains your lips as well and he can't take his eyes off them. When your tongue darts out to lick champagne off the edge of your glass, he can see that it's a lighter pink and it makes his mouth run dry.

The night ends with you giving him your card with a shy smile.

"I'd be honored if you'd come to my opening."

"I wouldn't miss it," he promises, and he almost mourns when you disappear around the corner.

When he looks down at your card, he runs his fingertips over the rose in the corner, still marvelling over the color there, and this time it's almost as if he can feel it.

Your opening is over a month away, and Taehyung finds himself jumpy and frustrated, unable to finish any sculptures, pulling your card out of his wallet over and over to see that rose and think of the color of your lips, the tip of your tongue.

It's less than a week later when he breaks down and calls you.

"Hello?" You chirp, answering on the second ring, and he's silent for a moment.

"Hello?" You say again, and he clears his throat.

"Ah, hello. It's Taehyung. From the showcase?"

"Taehyung! Yes, hello!"

He hadn't planned what he was going to say, so it just comes out in a rush.

"I keep thinking of you," he confesses. "I was hoping to get an early look at your work."

"O-oh. Well, sure! Would you like to meet for tea first? I can take you to my gallery, there's a few pieces there."

He's so relieved he almost drops the phone, thanks you a bit awkwardly before hanging up, getting dressed quickly in a button up and slacks, running a hand through his hair and washing the stray bits of clay from his face.

You end up taking the tea to go and Taehyung is intensely aware of every time your hand brushes his as you walk to the gallery.

When you enter the gallery you stop him at the door, hesitantly putting a hand on his chest.

He stops in his tracks, your touch sending a jolt through him.

"I know it's silly but...will you close your eyes?"

Taehyung obeys immediately, his heart speeding up when you take his hand and lead him.

"You can open them now," you say softly, but your hand lingers in his a moment and he doesn't open his eyes until you let go.

Taehyung loses his breath when he sees it, a sky with colors he can't even name and he can see almost all of them. There are tears standing in his eyes as he looks and he doesn't bother to fight them.

"Y/n," he says softly. "The colors…"

When he tears his eyes away to look down at you, you're biting your lip and looking down at your hands.

"Do you like it? You're so talented, I was nervous-"

He can't stop himself from lifting your chin with his forefinger and when you tilt your face up it's almost visceral, the urge to kiss you.

"It's wonderful. I've never seen anything so beautiful," he says earnestly, and your smile makes his heart skip.

He's like a kid in a candy store, asks you to name all the colors you'd used and he's so grateful to put a name to them.

Burnt orange for the streaks in the sky, bluejay blue for the sky itself, sienna for the ground beneath, flecks of gold throughout.

He doesn't know why he's been given this gift, all the grays fading to make room for these colors, but he can't help equating it with you.

There's more and more every day that he spends with you in the following weeks, the streaks of auburn you'd dyed your hair, the chocolate brown dress you wore the next time you'd gone for tea, and always, always, the dusky rose of your mouth, and every time your lips parts he daydreams of kissing you.

He asks you to help him pick out paints, is so excited to try it himself he can barely contain himself.

He buys a dozen paints, an easy and a few canvases, but when he's done and you turn to go, his heart sinks.

He grabs your wrist gently. "Y/n... will you help me? I'm… I'm new to this."

You agree right away and back at his house he eagerly sets up the canvas but when he looks at it, staring and blank, he has no idea where to start.

You watch him for a moment, and them hold the palette out to him. "Pick a color."

It's instant, the way his eyes are drawn to the rose that reminds him of your lips, and he dips the brush in it lightly, paints a streak across the canvas but it doesn't feel right, feels flat somehow and he huffs out a breath.

The next time, he dips a finger in the paint and you raise an eyebrow.

This time it feels better and he keeps working, tongue peeking between his lips in concentration, looking at you with a discerning eye off and on, until there are a pair of rose colored lips on the canvas.

"There," he says, satisfied, and wipes at his brow, leaving a streak of paint.

You giggle at him a little. "I've never seen finger painting this good, but your face-" you step closer, reach out to thumb along his cheek and it makes him draw in a sharp breath.

"I'm a sculptor. I don't mind getting a little dirty." He says, low in his throat.

"Yeah?" You're still smiling and he traces your jaw with his fingertips like he'd wanted to that first night, fascinated by the line of rose that marked your skin.

"Taehyung," you breathe, mouth parted, and it's too much, the pull in his stomach, the ache in his chest and he leans down to kiss you, soft at first, and then he slips his tongue between those dusky rose lips.

A moan builds low in his throat and he snakes an arm around your waist, loving the way you melt against him.

You drop the palette and the paint splatters over both of you and the canvas, and Taehyung barely notices but you break apart from him with a cry.

"Oh no! I'm… I'm sorry, I ruined it-"

Taehyung shakes his head vehemently. "Y/n-"

"I ruin everything," you mumble, and Taehyung is alarmed to see tears rolling down your cheeks.

"Hey, don't-"

But you're grabbing your purse and pushing past him before he can stop you.

You don't answer his calls or texts for a week and Taehyung is distraught. He spends hours staring at the canvas of your mouth with the paint splattered around it, leaving it unfinished on the easel.

When Namjoon comes over to borrow a few eggs, he notices the painting.

"Since when do you paint?" He asks.

Taehyung sighs. "Since I started seeing colors."

Namjoon's eyes widen. "Since you what?"

Taehyung lets it all spill out of him, tells Namjoon everything, and an expression almost like recognition spreads across his friend's face.

"Taehyung... what do you know about soulmates?"

It hits him like a ton of bricks and when he thanks Namjoon and ushers him out with a dozen eggs, he all but runs to your gallery, knowing your opening is that night and hoping you'll be there.

He's right, you're setting up all your paintings and he sees you just like he did the first night, your back to him, running your hands over a canvas.

It's different than your other paintings, it's a portrait and as he gets closer he realizes he recognizes the face...from the mirror.

"Y/n?"

You jump, spin to face him and it's such deja vu it makes him smile.

Before you speak, he speaks first.

"I never saw color until the night I met you. Everything was gray and bleak and now...now everything's bright and vibrant and it's because of you."

You blink up at him. "Because of me?"

"You're my soulmate," he explains, as if it's simple and it feels that way to him, explains the pull he feels every time he's near you, the longing.

"Y-your…"

Taehyung takes your hands in his, searching your face.

"Maybe...maybe I'm not yours," he says slowly, his voice low, heart seeming to split in his chest. "Maybe it's just me but I-I'm in love with you, Y/n."

You look down at your intertwined hands, flip his over, trace the lines of his palm with your fingertips, and Taehyung doesn't know how to feel, fights the hope rising in him.

"The night I met you, I started being able to feel my art when I touched it. It was like I could feel the colors through my skin. I thought I was going crazy."

You look up at him and Taehyung doesn't fight it, that urge, he kisses you softly.

"You're not crazy. You're wonderful."

"When I ruined your painting-"

Taehyung hums in the back of his throat. "You made it better. You make everything better."

He pulls you into his arms, kisses your cheekbones and the bridge of your nose, making you giggle.

Your opening goes well and Taehyung stays at your side, taking your hand in his, wrapping his arm around your waist, touching you any way he can.

He takes you out for dinner to celebrate and he can’t stop staring at you, at all the colors he can see now because of you, and you invite him inside for tea after.

Finally, he’s able to run his hands along your back, your arms, feel you under his skin the way he felt the clay under his palms, and it feels just like the clay does, feels like home.

#taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x reader #bts v x reader #taehyung imagine #bts soulmate au #taehyung soulmate au

496 notes · View notes

stansrichie · 5 years

Text

how do you sleep when you lie to me?

summary: reddie soulmate au where when you write on your skin, it’ll show up on your soulmates skin as well so eddie started wearing long sleeves… until one day, he doesn’t.

read it on ao3 here! :]

pairing: richie and eddie

words: 3.3k

warnings: eddie is big dumb, mild angst, mainly pining/fluff, college au, soulmate au, they’re like 19

a/n: i haven’t written in a while so PLEASE bear with me i tried- i also didn’t prooread this yet so ignore typos its 5am :[

Eddie had just drifted to sleep when he felt a faint tingle on his arm; his soulmate writing something.

Sitting up in bed, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and turned his head to look at the clock on his desk. “Are you fucking kidding me?” he mutters frustratedly to himself, flopping back down on his bed and curling further into his comforter, trying to be as quiet as he can since Stan was sleeping less than 5 feet away from him in their shared college dorm. “Why the hell is he up at 4 a.m. when we have class in the morning?”

Eddie had always been a light sleeper, so it was at times like this when he was awoken at the ass-crack of dawn, watching silently as Richie wrote on his arm, waiting and hoping for a response; a response Eddie was, quite frankly, too afraid to give him.

It had only been a few days after he turned 18, the age where you can finally start seeing and writing messages on your skin to your soulmate, that Eddie figured out Richie was his soulmate.

It was their senior year of high school and they were sitting in English class, zoning out while as the teacher continued rambling about some summer reading project they were supposed to have done, when Eddie felt it. He was wearing a sweatshirt, so he lifted the sleeve a little, watching as his soulmate started doodling what looked like an intricate rose.

He smiled as he watched for a few minutes, thinking the flower was beautiful, and moved to tap Richie on the arm to show him the design but paused as soon as he started. His breath hitched as he looked over his shoulder and saw Richie drawing a rose on his arm. The exact same rose that was currently being drawn on Eddie’s.

Up until that point, Eddie had never written a message back to his soulmate, afraid of saying something stupid, and after figuring out it was Richie, he knew he could never write anything back at all. At least not until he figured out what the hell he could say to him because, in reality, what was he supposed to say to his best friend that has shown no romantic interest in him before? ‘Hey, Richie, it’s me, Eddie. I know you’ve said a thousand times that being around me makes you nauseous because I constantly smell like my mom’s cheap perfume, but maybe that’s karma because we’re kinda soulmates. Life comes at you fast, huh?” Absolutely not.

Not only could Eddie not convince himself to tell Richie, but neither could the rest of the Losers. Not Bill, who sat Eddie down and held an impromptu intervention with Mike after Richie had come to them a hundred times, crying about how his soulmate probably hates him already since they never respond to him. Not Stan, who nearly decked him in the face for running away when he was given the perfect opportunity to fess up when Richie asked him why he had drawn the exact same smiley face he had on his hand. And not Beverly or Ben, who cornered and sat him down just last week after his last lecture of the day, telling him it had been almost a year since he found out and had yet to talk to Richie.

Now here he was, lying in bed at 4 in the morning, curling tightly into his comforter as he tried to ignore the guilt he felt in the pit of his stomach and watching Richie write what was probably the fourth message he had gotten today.

I’m sorry if I’ve been annoying you for the past year. Part of me hopes I’ve been writing on the wrong arm this whole time and you’re just not right-handed, but I know that isn’t really it. Just please say something, anything, so I at least know you’re out there and I’ll stop. I promise.

More than half of his forearm had been covered. He could only read over the message once, feeling tears well up in his eyes before shoving his arm back under his blanket and shutting his eyes as tightly as he could. He hated that he was hurting him, but he was scared. He was so scared. Scared that Richie would hate him by now. Scared that Richie didn’t return the same feelings for him that he’s had since freshman year. Scared that this will ruin their friendship if Richie doesn’t. He’s so scared.

“Eddie, it’s the middle of September. It’s like 600 degrees outside. Why the fuck are you wearing a jacket?” Richie asks, furrowing his eyes brows and staring at the smaller boy in front of him, his head slightly tilted as he waited for an answer.

After locking the door to his and Stan’s dorm, Eddie pushes past Richie, nearly knocking the boy over, and throws his backpack over his shoulder as he leads them down the hall and out of the building. This is what they always did. Richie woke up early, got dressed, walked to Eddie’s room, and waited for him outside so they could walk to class together. That’s what best friends do, right? “Because I’m cold, Richie, why else would I wear a jacket, dumbass?” he retorted, tugging the jacket tighter over his body. Ever since Eddie started wearing long sleeves around him, Richie asked the same thing all the time, and got the same response every time. Only this time, it really did feel like it was about 600 degrees outside, and Eddie could already feel his forehead start to get damp as they walked, yet he had no intentions of removing the jacket.

“Whatever, weird ass. I feel like I’m fucking melting out here, and you’re still dressing like there’s a blizzard barreling down on us. Are you okay?” Richie asked, his previously sarcastic tone of voice turning to one of genuine concern, catching Eddie completely off-guard with how fast he switched up.

“Y-yeah. I’m okay. Just been feeling weird. I’m fine, though,” Eddie tumbled over his words, keeping his eyes on his feet as they walked. “I didn’t get to ask you earlier, but how was the trip?” he asked, peering up to meet the same pair of concerned eyes he had been avoiding the entire walk. Over the weekend, Richie was forced to go to some art museum two hours away with his class for an exhibit, and instead of making it a day trip, they left Saturday morning and didn’t return until Sunday afternoon.

Richie knew good and well that Eddie wasn’t as okay as he was telling him, but they were best friends. He told Eddie everything and Eddie told him everything too. If he wanted him to know, he would tell him. Why would this be any different? “It was alright. Kind of boring, but it was required. I know it was only one weekend, but I missed you,” Richie replied nonchalantly, shoving his hands in his pockets. It wasn’t until a few moments later that he realized what he’d said, and frantically tried to backtrack and save himself. “You guys. I-i missed you guys. You know… it was weird not hanging out with you all. Like... all of you. Not just one,” he chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the nape of his neck, and Eddie noticed a faint red tint had taken to his cheeks that couldn’t have been from the heat.

“Yeah…y-yeah. I got it,” Eddie stuttered back, feeling like the combined heat the jacket and the heat from his own cheeks were about to suffocate him. “I bet it was. Didn’t have anyone to fuck around with and call ‘itty bitty Ewok” the whole time you were there.”

This pulled a loud laugh from Richie, who completely stopped in his tracks to grab his chest dramatically at the nickname he had coined for Eddie. “Come on, Eds, if anything you missed me calling you that,” he replied in-between chuckles, wiping a single tear from his eye.

“Fuck you, Richie, you already know I’m insecure about my height and Ewoks are actually pretty badass. They could kick your ass in a heartbeat just like I ca-” Eddie stops himself, sighing and shaking his head as Richie had only been probed to laugh harder. “Fuck you,” he spat, squinting his eyes at the other boy before speed walking ahead. However, he didn’t get very far before he felt himself being tugged backwards into a hard chest.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I was just kidding, I promise,” Richie grinned down at him, though Eddie wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying. What he was paying attention to, though, was the hand on his waist that was pressing him firmly against Richie’s body, only separated by his backpack. “Forgive me?” Richie whispered, leaning right down to Eddie’s ear and making him shudder a bit at the feeling of his breath fanning his skin.

“Whatever,” Eddie breathed out, shoving Richie away and fixing his bag on his shoulder, continuing to walk ahead as he heard Richie continuing to chuckle behind him.

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, getting closer and closer to their classroom building before they finally arrived. It wasn’t until Eddie pulled the door open and held it for Richie that he spoke again.

“Is that something your soulmate wrote?” Richie asked, pointing to the marks peeking out from Eddie’s jacket that had slightly risen up on his arm as they walked inside.

At the question, Eddie’s eyes widened, and he immediately pulled the fabric of his sleeve down, averting his eyes from his best friend. “Yeah… yeah, it’s nothing important. Just a doodle or something,” he mumbled, shrugging his shoulders and silently praying that Richie would accept his answer and change the subject.

“Must be nice. I don’t know what I did to my soulmate or--or if I even fucking have one at this point, but I can never get a response. I’m starting to think that maybe I should just…give up? I mean it’s almost been a year now and all I’ve gotten is radio silence. I can’t keep begging for nothing, you know?” Richie asks, looking over at Eddie with dark, heavy eyes as he finished. His shoulders were slumped in defeat and his head hung a little lower as he walked.

“Yeah. I-I’m sorry, Richie. You don’t deserve that… you really don’t,” Eddie replied, fidgeting nervously with backpack straps and quickly glancing at Richie before focusing back on the ground and walking into the classroom.

He hadn’t been lying. After a while, the messages on Eddie’s arm started coming in slower and slower before stopping altogether.

There were times when he thought Richie had started trying again, feeling the familiar tingle on his arm, only to look down and see a grocery list or a homework reminder.

By now, it had been nearly two months and there hadn’t been a single message from Richie for him to read. Richie had also become a little quieter when they all hung out. Acting a little out of character for his usual self, and the entire group noticed. They also knew Eddie was the one that could fix it, and they’d threatened him at least 3 times this week to tell Richie before they did. To say he felt guilty was an understatement. He didn’t think it would come to Richie completely giving up he just¾he just needed more time, was all. More time to come up with something to say to him.

Eddie was just about to sit down and start on his homework when he felt it again. Writing on his arm.

Study group for comp sci in library @ 6

He stared at the note on his arm for a few minutes before looking at the time on his laptop. It was 3:45 now, so he only had a little bit of time to decide if he would show up or not. This was the first time Richie had written a complete sentence, whether it was for him or not, let alone with something as specific as his afternoon plans. It would be the perfect time to reveal himself to Richie, but he couldn’t help but doubt himself. “Jesus fuck, I’m gonna need a Xanax after this,” he muttered to himself hiding his face in his hands and exhaling loudly.

It was currently 7:30pm and Eddie was standing outside of the library entrance, looking like an absolute idiot. He had gotten to the library over 30 minutes ago, but every time he made the move to walk inside, he walked right back out.

He peered through the glass doors of the library entrance and saw Richie packing up his bags at a table in the back corner of the bottom floor and waving goodbye to a few other students. Panic started to rise in him because it was literally now or never, and he didn’t even use his time standing around outside, let alone the entire year he’s kept this secret, to think of what the hell he’s supposed to say when he walks up to him.

His body starts moving before his mind can get it to stop, and he suddenly finds himself pushing through the front doors and walking right up to Richie, who was seconds away from leaving.

“Hey, Richie,” Eddie called as he neared the table, internally cringing at how awkward and nervous he sounded. Richie looked up from shoving his last book into his backpack, his eyes widening in surprise and his mouth opening to say something before Eddie cut him off. “H-how did your study group go?”

“How did you know I had a study group? I never mentioned it to…” Richie trailed off mid-sentence as he took in Eddie’s appearance. He was shifting nervously from one foot to the other. A faint blush was set on his cheeks, tinting them a pretty pink color over his freckles, and he was completely avoiding Richie’s eyes. Other than that, there was nothing significantly different about Eddie that caught him off guard; that is, until he noticed Eddie’s shirt. For once, he wasn’t wearing anything long-sleeved, and Richie noticed a few familiar scribbles on Eddie’s arm from afar.

Stepping away from the table, Richie started moving closer to the other boy and Eddie felt like he couldn’t breathe. He stood completely still, frozen in place, as Richie stopped right in front of him and took his arm in his hand, holding it up so he could read what was written.

“Study group for comp sci in library at 6,” Richie read out loud quietly before looking up and meeting Eddie’s eyes, causing Eddie to meet his gaze for the first time. They were both silent for no more than 3 minutes, but it felt like an eternity. Eddie was still barely breathing, waiting for Richie to react, and Richie was looking at the message on Eddie’s arm again that was identical to his as if everything was hitting him at once.

Eddie had just looked away from Richie’s face when he spoke up again.

“Why?” he asked, his voice laced with a mixture of hurt and desperation. “W-why would you …hide this from me for so long, Eddie?”

When Eddie looked up, he realized just how upset Richie really was. His eyes had already begun to water, and he knew he was completely overwhelmed with the situation. He felt terrible once again; not that he didn’t deserve to. “Richie, I-”

“Do you realize how hard I tried? Eddie, I didn’t even know if there was someone out there or not. I-I waited so long hoping to get a response, and you--you were there the entire time? You knew the entire time?” Richie cut him off, looking like he had been completely defeated.

“I-I’m sorry. I just- I didn’t know how you would react. You’ve never shown any real interest in me and I didn’t want to ruin anything I-I was just scared of… of losing you,” he replied, feeling his own tears start to slip down his cheeks. “I know I’m the fucking worst and I had so much time to say something but I couldn’t-”

“Are you fucking kidding me, Eddie? Like are you bullshitting me right now? This entire time, you haven’t stopped to think even once that I might have feelings for you? That I might have been in love with you since we were prepubescent 13 year-olds in high school? Not once?” Richie continued, shooting questions at Eddie every chance he could. “Not when I asked you to prom senior year, even if I did try to play it off as a friend thing? Not when I kissed you that one time when we went to the drive-in? Or not even now when I wake up early every morning to walk you to class, even when I don’t have the same classes? Not once?”

Eddie was speechless. Absolutely speechless for at least 2 minutes before his mind finally started working again after that confession. “I really am sorry, Rich, I know I should’ve said something a long ass time ago I was being stupid… I had no idea you felt that way, but I-I feel the same,” he replied nervously, peering up at Richie through his eyelashes, his bottom lip between his teeth. “And to be fair, you told me the kiss was accidental and that you only did it because you were trying to wipe butter off of my lip and slipped-”

But he’s cut off when he feels a pair of lips against his, and he barely has time to react before Richie’s pulling him closer against his chest and deepening the kiss. Eddie feels like his entire body is fire, and even though they’re kissing in the middle of the library, it feels like they’re the only people in the room, as cheesy as that sounds. It was a fairly chaste kiss, but it was desperate and needy, something they’ve both wanted for years, and they were both breathless when they pulled apart.

Eddie’s lips were red and a bit plumper, and when Richie’s eyes flickered down to them and noticed, he couldn’t help but pull Eddie in for another quick kiss.

“That one wasn’t an accident,” Richie finally spoke after a few moments of them trying to catch their breath, his voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re such an idiot,” Eddie chuckled breathlessly. He felt like a thousand weights had been lifted off his shoulders. His insides felt like jelly, like he couldn’t believe that had just happened, but it felt good. He felt good.

“Yeah? Says the one that kept being my soulmate away from me for an entire fucking year,” Richie countered, squeezing Eddie’s hip and making his breath hitch.

“Not an entire year just…close,” Eddie murmured under his breath, hiding his face in Richie’s neck.

“Too long,” Richie replied, his voice slightly muffled as he pressed his lips against the side of Eddie’s face.

“M’sorry,” Eddie responded, which he’d probably said a thousand times tonight. But he meant it. He meant it every single time.

“I know. I’m just glad you’re here now,” Richie sighed in content. Of course, they’d talk more about the situation later, but for now he was just happy he had found out who his soulmate was. Even better, it was Eddie.

Eddie knew it too. Knew he’d have a lot more explaining to do, and a lot more apologizing to do, but for now he wanted to stay just like this for a little while longer because he wasn’t afraid anymore. He didn’t have to be; he never had to be, and he wished he could’ve convinced himself of that earlier because being in Richie’s arms felt like the safest place he’d ever been in his life.

1K notes · View notes