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peterspinkrobe · 10 months

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Communion | AU Priest Miguel O’Hara x female Reader

A/N: I commissioned the above Priest Miguel. Ever since the artist sent the sketch, (@ ejpuki on twitter plz go show love!) this story has been a brewin’ in my cranium. I am not a newbie when it comes to fanfic, but a virgin to writing Miguel. Please accept this offering to the mania that is fandom. Feedback is appreciated. I know the tenses are probably all over the place. Part 2 is live!!. Let me know if you’re interested ~~

Warnings: Religious content, parents, dirty-minded reader, no mention of Y/N

As you sat in the middle pew, aisle seats, you fiddled with the dress your mother guilted you into wearing. The hem of the skirt had a little fraying and you couldn’t help but pick at it.

The meddling was met with a small smack on your wrist from your mother.

“Stop! You’re going to make it worse! I know it’s an old dress but it will only look that way if you pick at it.” The sharpness in tone and the lacy lilac dress from high school brought you back to all of the Sunday mornings you’d been ripped from the comfort of your bed to attend church.

Church. Your head was already starting to hurt from the early morning light pouring through the stained glasses windows, but your tried to remain neutral to spare mom.

Your relationship with the Almighty soured not long after your father passed. Faith was hard to come by and the struggles you’d faced recently only strained that even further.

“Sorry, mama.” You say quietly, acting like you’re still twelve and not in your mid twenties.

Ever since you moved back in you’ve had to live under “her rules”. Sunday service is one of those rules. Considering the headache you’ve caused her recently, you ignore your own and do as she asks. It’s only fair.

But church? Last week was your first time back inside a church since leaving for college five years ago. It was the same one you’d been dragged to in your younger years. The same stained pews, same old books of Psalms, same feeling of estrangement despite being surrounded by the same old folks.

Your mom had turned her attention to the lady that lived on our street and you turned your own attention to your fingernails, scraping underneath them for dirt that wasn’t there. You think about how you had dropped the habit until moving back in, but was interrupted by microphone static.

You pulled your gaze to the front of the church and saw Father Steen tapping the microphone. Despite only being five years since you last saw him, the man seemed to have aged decades. His frail frame balanced on the podium as he spoke. You realized why the microphone was needed when he started speaking - amplifying the hushed tone of the elder addressing his congregation.

“Good morning and many blessings to you all this Sunday morning,” he began and you couldn’t help but lower your gaze back to the frayed bit of your dress. His monotone voice was… kinda boring. You hated thinking that way because Father Steen was such a good man and he cared for your mother greatly when dad passed. He was mentioning an upcoming surgery and you were back to picking at your fingernails. His voice eked on through the speakers, “so we will be having a transitional deacon come in to take over my position until I recover. This fine young man has graciously accepted this position as he is working to become a priest himself. Please welcome Mr. O’Hara as he leads us in prayer to begin communion for this month.”

There is respectful applause and your eyes are still on your hands until your mom elbows you gently. You start to apologize again for not paying attention but notice she and her pew neighbor are giggling as they clap. You start to clap your own hands as you look up at what they were giggling like schoolgirls about when your hands freeze in their clapped position - almost like you’re praying.

The deacon that Father Steen introduced was… gorgeous, and he was looking at you. You blushed, embarrassingly, under the gaze of the dark eyes. Could he tell you hadn’t been paying attention?

Well, you most certainly were now.

You pulled your eyes away from him to look at your mother who was wiggling her eyebrows at you, causing you to blush even deeper and turn back to the front.

The first thing you notice about the man standing at the front of the church was his height. He towered over the podium he placed a hand on. Father Steen came up to only just above his elbows with his hunched body.

The eyes that were watching you now surveyed the room and the light from the windows shown dark, warm pools of irises. His face…

Sharp symmetry made up his countenance. Distinct cheekbones bobbing as the smooth bronze skin stretched upwards into a smile. The strong jawline accentuated with the muscles of his lips pulling back, revealing a dazzling toothy smile.

When he spoke for the first time, you understood why your mom cried during Psalms at times. His voice was gospel.

“Thank you, all, for welcoming me into your parish. I know that you have received excellent spiritual guidance from Father Steen. I can only hope to at least partially fill his shoes in his absence.” His voice boomed throughout the church with no need for a microphone. “Before we begin the sacred ritual that is communion, let us bow our heads in prayer.”

The church around you dutifully lowered their heads, and you did the same. Hating closing your eyes to the alluring man in front of the church. At least his voice still filled your ears with song.

“Heavenly Father, we are gathered here today, in your house, in the name of your Son to receive the Body and Blood of Christ…” you decide it won’t be such a terrible sin to sneak a peek during prayer. You lift your head up to catch another glimpse at the ethereal creature leading prayer while he wasn’t looking.

But he was looking. Right at you as he continued to recite, “We are all sinners, and we are all in need of your grace and forgiveness.” You start to think about how much you needed his grace, when you pinch yourself for the blasphemy.

You’re still staring at each other as he finishes, “We pray that You will bless this communion and that it will deepen our relationships with You.” You instantly feel heat in your gut when you wonder just how deep it can go..

You think you see him grin slightly, but he pulls his eyes away from yours and you quickly put your head back down.

“In Your Blessed Name, Amen.” He ends. “Amen”, the church responds in unison and you squeak it out as well.

The first pew stands and approaches the front of the church, choir boys retrieving the communion goods. You notice that there is a split in the line as one is given the small wafer and grape juice shot by Father Steen and the other line the new deacon.

You can’t keep your eyes off him as he offers the sacrament to each person in line. He is taking longer than Father Steen, seeming to ask questions before presenting the body and blood of a savior.

As it came to be your pew’s turn, you stood. With only a few people in front of you, you studied Miguel’s figure in short glances.

Along with being a towering figure, he was a wide one as well. Muscles filled in the long-sleeved black button down shirt. His large upper body tapered off into a slim waist, tucked neatly into dark pants. A belt accentuated the fit waist even further. Your eyes trailed quickly across the thick neck that was accessorized by the all too familiar white collar of priesthood. When you were just behind one more person, your eyes fell to the floor.

Part of you wished you would be on Father Steen’s side as you feel as though you’re about to burst from this proximity of the giant man. He was bent over speaking to an elder of the church, giving her a soft smile as she blessed him for coming to ‘our little church.’

The man in line in front of you stood to Father Steen and the woman was letting Mr. O’Hara go from a sweet embrace.

Thank God, you guessed, for the years of attending communion as your muscle memory tore your legs from their form rooted position at the altar.

You approached the tall figure and your eyes are locked on the lips of the man in front of you. You see them move, hearing nothing but the beating of your heart in your eardrums.

“I-I’m sorry. What?” You sputter the words and heat creeps into your chest and face.

A soft chuckle escapes his full lips and he smiles as he repeats, “What is your name?”

You give it to him. And he says it. The way your name sounds in his music makes you smile up at him. He holds your gaze for a moment before speaking again.

“The Body of Christ.” He extends his hand in an upward position, the white wafer between his index finger and thumb.

You bow your head slightly in reverence of the offering. As you start to pull your head up again, his pinky and ring finger catch under your chin, lifting your face the rest of the way.

You breathe out a small gasp and open your mouth. He seems to mirror the action slightly as his own mouth drops slightly open. You extend your tongue a little as he places the thin wafer onto it.

His gaze is heavy as he watches you take the offering into your mouth. Your breath hitches when he runs his thumb across your pouted bottom lip, catching some saliva with it.

“Amen.” You respond and it’s not until he pulls his hand from your face when you turn to grab a small glass of grape juice. “The Precious Blood.” You hear him say behind you as you bring the glass to your lips, relishing the sweet refreshment.

Your face is red hot as you turn to walk back to your pew, ignoring your mother’s glances as she had already been back to her seat.

The burning in your cheeks is even more fiery as it dawns on you that the whole church saw the exchange. You hope, you pray, that it was perceived as a normal moment between a new Shepard and a member of his flock.

Communion wraps up and Father Steen takes a seat behind the the new head of church as he begins his sermon. The slight pressure of his thumb on your bottom lip created a pool of heat in your belly that wouldn’t go away.

You try to pay attention to the Good Word, you really do, but your mind is other places. Definitely not holy places.

Maybe coming to church won’t be too bad after all…

#miguel o'hara #miguel x reader #priest au #atsv miguel #miguel x you #how do i even tag this #fanfic #spiderverse fanfic

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ashwhowrites · 1 year

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Angst with a happy ending where Reader has been Chrissy’s best friend since childhood, and has had a huge crush on Eddie for a while? They’ve only really interacted in a select few classes over the years until his third senior year.

Reader had been trying to convince Chrissy that she can find someone that will treat her way better than Jason. So, when Chrissy finally breaks up with Jason to pursue someone else, Reader is supposed to be happy. If only Chrissy hadn’t set her sights on Eddie Munson.

Chrissy is pretty, sweet, popular, and always gets what she wants. Right?

Chrissy always gets what she wants, right? NO

⚠️angsty at first but I made it happy!

Y/N hated Jason more than anything. She hated how he treated her best friend like shit. And she hated that he treated her crush like crap. A secret crush though. No one knew she had a crush on Eddie Munson, not even her best friend.

There's a good chance Eddie Munson knew her name, but nothing else about her. She was popular, and Chrissy's friend. But called Jason out on his shit all the time.

She's only had two real conversations with Eddie. Two she remembered and played in her head. Two that he probably didn't even know that happened.

But she stopped by his desk every morning, a small hi on her tongue when she walked to her seat. Her heart skips beats when he looks up with his own smile. Always saying hi back.

When the teacher told them to partner up, she always ran to him.

Chrissy always went to Jason so it wasn't a big deal. Chrissy was always caught up in her boyfriend she never noticed her best friend staring at the hellfire leader with hearts in her eyes.

She was so close to asking Eddie out. Taking the leap but then Chrissy dumped Jason, and set her eyes on someone else.

Y/N felt like she lost all air in her lungs when Chrissy admitted that Eddie Munson was cute. That after their deals she thought he was so funny and smart.

"he's nothing like what people think" Chrissy sighed as she looked over at the hellfire table

"I know. Why do you think I told Jason to shut his mouth?" Y/N snapped

She can't believe she was going to lose the one guy she's ever had a crush on to her best friend.

"he smells so good"

I know Y/N thought. She remembered complimenting him on a random day. Watching as his face blushed.

"he's so creative too!"

Another thing Y/N knew. She caught him sketching during class. Peering over his shoulder as she walked behind him.

Y/N silently ate her lunch, refusing to look at Eddie's table. If Chrissy was now in the picture, there was no way she even had a chance.

But maybe if she did look, she'd see Eddie staring at her.

Chrissy slowly began to be everywhere Eddie was.

"hi Eddie" she said with a huge smile as she walked past him to her seat. Y/N walked behind her. Not bothering to say hello, not like he'd notice now that Chrissy Cunningham was interested.

"um hi" he said fast, eyes following her as she walked by

Shoulders slumped as Y/N ignored his presence. Watching as the two girls sat at their desk. But only one pair of eyes looked back at him.

Y/N felt a ball in her throat when the teacher said to partner up. Chrissy racing to sit next to Eddie. His brown eyes looked at her confused, quickly snapping to see where Y/N was walking to.

He felt himself slump even further in his seat as she sat next to a random student.

"so, I'm thinking..." Chrissy began speaking but he wasn't half listening. Staring as Y/N laughed along with the random boy she picked over him.

Eddie Munson was the only thing Chrissy talked about. Y/N just silently nodded. Never speaking on how much Chrissy was breaking her heart.

She accepted a long time ago that Chrissy was going to end up with Eddie if she wanted to and she couldn't stop it

Eddie wasn't sure what he did wrong. Or why Y/N acted as if he didn't exist. He was mad at himself. Of course a popular girl wasn't going to be interested in him. She just dangled him along for fun. Something to keep her busy.

He wasn't sure why Chrissy was now doing the same thing. Or why Jason suddenly stopped being an ass to him. Maybe Chrissy told him to? Maybe she felt bad for all the shit her boyfriend did so she's trying to make it up to him by being a friend?

He really didn't understand what was going on. But he missed his small interactions with Y/N, and that's all he understood.

"I think I might ask him out" Chrissy said excitedly as she shoved her books into her backpack

"oh wow, really?" Y/n asked, fear in her stomach. This was it. Her chance with Eddie was officially gone

"yeah, I mean I think he's interested. He's always staring at me" she blushed

Neither girl knew he wasn't staring at Chrissy

"yeah that's true" Y/N slightly scoffed. She can't count the times she saw those pretty brown eyes staring at her best friend

"should I do it?" Chrissy asked, anxiousness written all over her face

"yeah definitely. I always said you deserve a great guy and he's definitely the best out of all of them" she said with a small smile. Taking a deep breath as she walked away.

Tomorrow she'd have to watch her best friend date the biggest crush of her life

"Eddie I have something to ask you" Chrissy smiled as Eddie sat across from her

Digging through his lunchbox of weed

"what's up?" His eyes still looking through the lunch box

No idea that her blue eyes were forming into hearts as she watched him

"do you want to go out sometime? Like on a date?"

Eddie froze. His eyes stared at the same bag of weed for minutes. He coughed awkwardly, his throat felt like a desert.

"sorry, uh?" He asked. His eyes looking up at her

Chrissy was asking him on a date?

Why?

"it's just that I really like you and I feel like you like me too. So why don't we get dinner?"

"Chrissy, you are amazing and beautiful. But I'm into someone else and I'm not quite ready to give up on them" he said as gently as he could. He never once thought he'd have to turn down the head cheerleader but life is full of surprises.

"oh! That's totally fine. I'm so sorry, I didn't know you liked someone!" Chrissy apologized

"um yeah. She's kinda been ignoring me so I can see why you didn't know" he tried to laugh it off

Ignoring that it truly hurt that Y/N acted like he was a memory to her

"ignoring you? Why?" Chrissy asked. Her heart of gold wanting to help him

"I have no idea. But maybe you'd know?" Eddie tried to hint

"me? How would I know?"

"it's your best friend"

Chrissy felt her stomach drop

No no no

She did not spend the last few weeks ranting about her huge crush on Eddie while her best friend liked him

"oh my god. Y/N? She likes you? Oh my god, fuck" Chrissy whined, throwing her head into her hands

"well I kinda thought but I was definitely wrong" he shrugged. Closing his lunchbox and pushing it to the side

"no Eddie. She does. I just can't believe I didn't notice. I fucked it up!"

"what do you mean?" Eddie looked at her confused

"she stopped talking to you when I started right?" Chrissy feared the answer. If he said yes she was easily the worst friend in the world

"um yeah I guess? It was like once we became friends she acted like I didn't exist anymore?"

"this is all my fault. I....I broke up with Jason because she's been telling me I deserve someone so much better. And being with him I easily ignored all the signs of her liking you. I knew she liked someone but I never asked. And after Jason, I set my hopes on you, right in front of her. Oh my god. She was just going to suffer and watch. I need to go" Chrissy raced out of the woods

She needed to apologize to her best friend

Eddie tried to absorb all of the information thrown in face

Y/N liked him?

Yes she did

She was hurt because she thought he'd want Chrissy over her

Eddie grabbed all his stuff and ran after Chrissy

Y/N was sitting outside as she finished some homework. Waiting for Chrissy to come back from her deal...or date with Eddie

"Y/N!" Chrissy yelled out breathlessly

Y/N took a deep breath, preparing for the news

"where is he going to take you?" She asked with her best fake smile

"Eddie Munson is the guy you like"

Y/N felt herself stiffen. An awkward chuckle released from her throat

"haha what? No. No I don't. You do. That's you, not me"

"it is. Why don't you tell me? I would have never gone after him"

"Chrissy, come on it's you. Eddie Munson would not look at me twice if he knew you liked him. And that's okay. Really"

Chrissy hated that her best friend thought so low of herself. Just accepting that she wasn't enough

"that's not true"

Y/N felt her body cringe as she heard his deep voice from behind her

She refused to look. Staring terrified at Chrissy, who gave a small smile of encouragement

Eddie rounded the table, sitting across from her. Chrissy gave her a thumbs up and ran to wait in the car

"Eddie it's fine. Chrissy is amazing and she really likes you" Y/N said with a smile.

"that may be true but what about who I like?"

She hated how Eddie stared way too deeply into her eyes. She grew nervous under his stare

"well Chri-"

"I don't like Chrissy gorgeous" smiling as she shut her mouth in seconds

"um huh?"

"I like you Y/N. And I can't even begin to tell you how much I like you. And how hurt I've been watching you ignore me"

She felt guilt bubbling up in her gut. His brown eyes looked so sad. His lips were in a frown as he watched her body deflate.

"I'm sorry. I just thought I'd get in the way" she apologized, eyes looking down at her hands

"you did" her eyes snapped up to his. Hurt clear across her face

"but you didn't get in the way of Chrissy and I. You got in the way of us" he continued

His hand slowly reaching out to touch hers

She swallowed as she felt his skin on her

"us?" She choked out

"I want to take you on a date. And I really want to kiss you. I want to be your boyfriend. I want to always be your partner in class. I want my favorite hi back in my life. My favorite smiling face to be looking at me. I want you" he laced his fingers with hers

Smiling as she clenched his hand tight.

She bit her cheek, trying to keep down her cries as she felt so overwhelmed.

Eddie Munson wanted her

"I want that too" she said quietly

Looking shyly at him through her lashes

"good" he said quietly, slowly leaning over the table towards her

"good" she said breathlessly as she felt herself leaning over the table to meet him half way

His hand softly held her jaw as he connected their lips. Sighing as he felt the softness of her lips.

Kissing Eddie Munson was so much better than she thought it would be like

Throwing her arms over his shoulders as she leaned even more across the table.

Chrissy pumped the air from inside the car.

It was time Y/N got swept off of her feet

Tags!

@bmunson86 @mxcheese @ladymunson @michaelfuckinglangdon @z0mbie-blah @biittersweet @mirrorsstuff @slightlyvicked @micheledawn1975 @ago-godance @magnificantmermaid @tlclick73 @hargrovesswifee @cityofidek @manyfandomsfanvergent @silky-luxe @lokiofasgard616

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie stranger things #eddie munson angst #eddie munson request #eddie munson angst x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson fluff x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x popular!reader

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queerponcho · 3 months

Text

Transfixed | part 1

collage made by me with pictures from pinterest

moonknight!system x female!reader

a/n: been writing this fic for about a year now so it's nerve-wrecking to finally post the first chapter. I hope you'll like it!! (pls be gentle...)

thanks to the lovely @nexusnyx for motivating me a few weeks ago, would've never considered posting without having our convo the other day!! Thank you so much<33

Warnings: no use of Y/N, fluff, NOT beta read, gushing about the moonboys, flustered awkward dorks, plot-twists, (eventual smut, the chapters will be marked individually), inaccurate depictions of DID, egyptian mythology and religion (although I did extensive research I took liberty in changing some things to adhere to my plot...), if I missed anything or made any spelling mistakes pls don't hesitate to tell me!

Summary: You're a woman who as been visiting the same library for all your life. One day a handsome new face comes walking in. That's the moment when the ball starts rolling and your entire life changes. Will you accept the new challanges coming your way...?

2,200 words

You have been visiting the same library all your life. While you were in school you would go there to have a quiet place to study. Since at home you always had a lot of family and busy energy around, you needed the library as sort of an...escape from all the noise. Later when you got into university, the library had become kind of a safe space for you. So you would rather sit in the bus for half an hour to and back to study there instead of the grimy and packed library on campus.

Even now that you work and have enough books at home to basically open your own library, you still can't part from your little paradise. Everyone knows you here and a few months ago the owners of the library even adopted a cat that seemed to really like you. So chances of moving on from here had definitely been ruined.

You loved reading all kinds of story based books, but spending so much time here made you curious, so you also picked up a few skill based ones. you had read a few gardening and science books but the ones you would actually start applying were the books that had to-do with art. Autobiographies of different artists and painters, different studies and research on colour and brushes. You became almost a bit obsessed at some point. So you started sketching and drawing things around you based on the knowledge you'd gathered from your extensive research. you would draw people around the library after work or before meeting friends in the nearby café. You'd never claim to be an artist but you were proud of your drawings nonetheless. for the past few weeks you had started to draw one very specific person. You saw them for the first time a bit over a month ago…

It was a rainy day and you'd just finished lunch with a friend. You said goodbye and you decided to head to the library to continue on with your sketches of the cute ginger kitten. After saying hello to the owners and giving the kitten a treat, you made your way to your usual corner in the back. Since the library wasn't very big you had a good view of the entrance and a few tables. you'd been sitting and drawing for about ten minutes when you noticed the kitten smelling your coat pocket in search of more treats. You smiled down at her 'hiiii kitty!' you picked her up and placed her on your little round table. 'you want another treat huh?' She looked back with big shiny eyes 'alright alright...there you go'. She happily chewed on the fish-shaped cookie while you continued drawing her.

The familiar noise of the door opening caught your attention....a man came in, he was wearing a brown flat-cap which was obscuring your vision of his face. He reached to take it off with a gloved hand and pushed his black curls back to reveal the face, of what you could only describe, a Greek god. He had strong and angular features, a sharp jawline and a beautiful slightly crooked nose which you felt the need to trace over with your finger. He had crows feet decorating his eyes, you'd assume he had them from laughing but seeing his resting facial expression, smiling almost seemed to be a foreign task to him. He brushed the remaining rain off his shoulders and made his way to the history section. When he disappeared behind a shelf you were brought back from your trance and took the first breath in what seemed like minutes.

You wondered what he would be looking for in the history section of this old library. You were in London, a place with alot of people, then again this library was old and in a secluded part of town so it was usually the same people walking in and out. You would definitely remember his face if you had seen it before. Whatever it was that he was looking for he had apparently found since he was making his way to the register with a thick leather bound book in his glove covered hand. You had a bit of a thing for hands and you knew you'd be sketching hands for the next few hours because of this stranger. He hastily left the library and was gone as fast and suddenly as he appeared. After that day you couldn't stop drawing that pretty stranger, you'd given him multiple names during this time. His name had been Jack, Edward, Steve, Malcom and many more. you'd started just drawing his gloved hands and his forearms but quickly you would switch to drawing his intense gaze and soft curls. The amount of times you fantasised about running your fingers through them and tugging slightly had you embarrassed. It had been weeks since you'd seen him and you wouldn't stop imagining him in your apartment just sitting next to you, sometimes you would also imagine him a bit closer and wearing a little less clothing…

A month had passed since you'd seen him and you finally managed to stop drawing him and went back to drawing people around the library. Though you still looked up when the door opened and a new customer came in hoping for your handsome stranger to come in and maybe stay a little this time so you could find out more about him and his movements, for drawing references of course...nothing else. It seemed the universe wanted to help you out, because the next time the bell chimed and a customer walked in, the familiar brown flat-cap wearing stranger entered. This time it was warm and sunny outside so he wasn't wearing any gloves and wore a white fitted polo. His muscles were visibly moving underneath the fabric of his sleeves when he reached up to take off his hat and ruffle through his hair with the same intention as last time. He was also holding the same thick leather bound book from his last visit to the library.

According to the owners he couldn't buy that one since it was rare literature, so he got to borrow it for a month...you knew this because you may have asked about him and his purchase after he left. This was also when you found out that the book he borrowed was about an Egyptian god. During your time in this library you have read books on Egyptian history and it did peak your interest. All this time you’d never even noticed that book before? Recently, you’d been spending a lot more time studying in that part of the library, so overseeing such a unique looking book was very strange of you.

You see him talking to the owners, it was quiet enough to make out parts of the conversation. It was 10am on a Tuesday so you were pretty much the only customer here. He had a pretty strong Latin accent and you were pretty sure he was from mexico. part of your family is from south America so you grew up learning Spanish and you remember hearing them speak English with that exact same accent.

He was thanking them for the book and asking if he could take a look around the library again. The owners kindly told him to go ahead and that he didn't even need to ask. He briefly nodded his head mumbling a quick 'gracias' and went over to the history section. You watched intently and spontaneously decided to head in the same direction. You felt a bit creepy lurking on this man but you were sure you wouldn't get caught since you were rarely a very visible person. it's not that you didn't have a strong presence but you know how to blend in really well and when to use that to your advantage. You hid behind the shelf of the history section facing his profile. He really was a pretty man, his eyes were squinting and his bold eyebrows furrowed. There was a stray curl hanging over them and you badly wanted to brush it back and feel his thick hair between your fingers...you couldn't of course, since you were too preoccupied drawing him at the moment. The window was creating beautiful shadows beneath his hooded eyes and high cheekbones. His jaw looked sharper than ever and his neck extremely kissable. His lips needed an honourable mention, they were like two squishy pillows that were begging to be bitten. You've been paying special interest to them and trying to get the details just right, so you didn't notice that he had moved from his previous spot.

You couldn't see him anywhere and were actually kind of disappointed to think he probably left. you were about to turn around and go back to your discarded belongings when you accidentally bumped into someone while moving backwards. 'ohssshit! i- i am so so sorry um- i didn't mean to wal-'

you had managed to pick up your pencil, sketchbook, and hopefully all of the scattered pages- when you finally looked up just to be faced with the god-like looking man you had been fawning over for a month now. he was practically towering over you and… was that a smirk? If you weren't already kneeling on the floor right now you would've probably lost your balance. 'hola~ I don't mind this view but do you need help standing up, muñeca?' This is when you realised that you were on your knees in front of the most attractive man you have ever seen and you quickly scrambled to your feet 'nono um thank you-'

'Jake, my name's Jake' he stuck out his hand and you introduced yourself after thanking him again. So his name was jake...huh pretty basic for a man like him. You were kind of joking when you temporarily gave him very basic names but you guess his parents weren't much more creative than you are.

You realised you were staring when he raised his left eyebrow and started grinning.

'So...why were you spying on me?' He asked cockily and it had you word-vomiting all over the place 'what? i wasn't-? I-I was just…drawing-?' pretty hard to sound convincing when finishing every statement with a question mark... 'yeah I know-' he looked you up and down and coming a bit closer 'I saw you get lost in your notebook and I just had to come see what you are drawing that garnered all of your precious attention, hermosa'

The nicknames were really starting to get to you, making you feel all sweaty and nervous. you were clenching the book to your chest accidentally pushing up your breasts and making your cleavage much more noticeable. you saw him glancing down, taking his time in bringing his eyes back up your neck and finally to your face. This entire time you were basically pressed into his chest, you were leaning on the shelf and he didn't seem like he wanted to move anytime soon 'h-how long were you looking over my shoulder exactly?'

'Long enough to see what had you so...como se dice...transfixed' Your breath hitched and he answered with a toothy grin.

'I am flattered, preciosa. I really am, didn't think someone as pretty as you would follow me around the library just to draw my hands and ass'

You push him back- 'I did NOT draw your ass! I-' You were interrupted by his chuckle and him moving closer again and grabbing your chin between his fingers and caging you in with his other arm. 'I know muñeca , I just like seeing you flustered...toda nerviosilla...it's cute.' At this point you’ve decided it's best if you just don't speak. '...maybe next time you can draw me shirtless? I would love to see you solely focused on my abs for half an hour.' He flashes you a toothy grin. Oh he’s getting too cocky…somehow you manage to move away from the bookshelf, momentarily getting even closer to him. After seeing his eyes flicker with surprise you move to the side, backing away from him. Turn around finally being able to take a breath of normal air that wasn't deliciously tinted with his aftershave.

'Sure, next time you can waltz into the library without a shirt on and we will see how far you get before being kicked out' you say while looking over your shoulder.

'Seeing your reaction would be worth it, nena' he called after you, not even registering your feet carrying you back to your corner. you took a deep breath replaying what just happened. He should not have this effect on you, it's almost embarrassing how easily he got so close to you. You are a grown woman, damnit! How did you not shove him away and get mad at his advances? You should be creeped out but you notice how you’re wishing to bump into him again soon...you hear the doorbell ring and see him walk out. He takes one look back and holds up a piece of paper. ‘Oh fuck me’ you feel your feet glued to the floor when you see what it is…its a drawing you made of him. It was a closeup of his torso upwards. You had drawn him from above and he was laying in your bed with heavy lidded eyes and parted lips. you were absolutely mortified- he was grinning like an idiot and winked at you before storing the drawing in his back pocket, crossing the street and vanishing from your eye-line. leaving you in the library, plagued by his stupid masculine scent and his dumb pretty face.

a/n: I really hope you enjoyed the first chapter, I've got a few already locked and loaded sooo the next one should be posted soon. Pls like and reblog if you liked it<3 it would mean the world!

part two

#ponchosworks<3 #moon knight #steven grant #steven grant x reader #marc spector #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #marc spector x reader #transfixedseries

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nightgoodomens · 23 days

Note

Can you elaborate your opinion on the coincidence of that BI with DT being in CA, Michael's PR explanation and miserable pics? The fact that Enty picked this very specific Disney story out of all the sus recent accidents sounds like a choice. Or jumping on MS's answer in less than 24h. AFAIK, Enty also gets info from reliable sources, could someone in CA participate in an "act of self-sabotage" to catalyze things? It sounds unlikely cause on the other hand it wouldn't be a good look to coincide coming out with breack ups and I think they know that. It's obvious whatever unhappiness there is between 2 couples( which is being put out, deliberately by themselves) has nothing to do with DT/MS, being poly and happy is a common thing. However, there seem to be separate conflicts between couples which we're not pervy to their nature but they're out there. (G admitted in a written press that she found an identity via social media and now she complains... says something.) As for media picking things up, I'm not sure what it'll take. If it was a hetero situation with 1/10 of the material we have from those two, surely it was the #1 hot gossip everywhere, years ago. I just hope whatever solution they come up with, doesn't smear a beautiful love with unrelated breakups.

Okay so what exactly is going on nobody can say apart from them but let’s just look at the timeline

(This is loooooong)

Since the beginning of GO there has been clear hints that something happened between Michael and David. Then it was made clear that they have gotten much closer during Staged. And then we saw them going a little insane over each other after lockdown all thorough GO2 promo including Michael not stopping on Twitter.

Then GT posts about the child being a drunk accident and MS goes a little nuts on Twitter telling people he sets David on fire fairly regularly, tells one of the major accounts to ask David face to face which part of him is 2% WELSH, and likes half naked GO fanart.

Then he goes dead quiet which was sudden and clearly related.

Then comes back only the moment David is on stage in New York. Quite obviously.

Goes quiet again, we start getting a lot less Good Omens and David content until the unfortunate moment where trolls made him basically quit Twitter for a while.

The answer to his 2% was that David is still thinking about it and he will let him know…

Then this timeline begins:

The infamous Macbeth look of love between the two of them in a room full of people

David arranging Lapland and takes a couple picture with Michael

David arranging BAFTAs to be about him and Michael, making a point of wearing a kilt that’s the main point of focus during the sketch and uses Gaiman’s infamous “wait and see”, from Good Omens, that brought him and Michael together.

Michael making this face after BAFTAs and later stating during his interview “He did good, the boy did good! And he looks good in a kilt doesn’t he?!”

Happy sincere smiles from both.

David promotes Michael’s NYE twice. Shows he’s been there on the opening night - during the day before the show - as he takes a selfie in front of the theatre.

Can you see how much “content” started coming from David for Michael? Now think back to the way Michael snapped at the end of the year and asked him how much of him is his… oh wait sorry what part of him is 2% Welsh. Maybe he wanted more than 2%… maybe the snap was that he didn’t want to be so hidden anymore hence his outburst of basically telling people they’re together. Whatever it was - funny how suddenly David started controlling the narrative.

Anyway

Another selfie on the press night, this time with the “real” Michael. Over the years is a nice hint. Also it starts to become clear that these two do not have an unhappy selfie together, yet Michael makes a point to look miserable with just AL, and David is not only looking more and more miserable with GT, but GT begins post breakup songs. She’s also known for humiliating David to the point of her own kids calling her a creep on video, and we hear him saying “this will never stop” as she videos him without his knowledge again. Or later “Oh god” “no they don’t need to see that”. What a happy chap.

The kilt keeps on getting mentioned by David, after Michael made a point of stating what he thinks about it.

Michael and David keep on bringing up each other in their interviews or media asks them about each other. They’re indeed seem the happiest when it’s about the other one.

GT and AL called them husbands and boyfriends.

Meanwhile:

Now the elephant in the room - the wives.

The wives began the second AL posted her modelling pics which she automatically assured everyone of not being paid for. Darling when you scream before anyone even had a chance to say anything… but this is something about AL - she is so insecure she keeps on snapping at fans and acting defensive regarding herself and her relationship. Which makes no sense considering she’s apparently in a happy happy happy arrangement.

GT was clearly asked to do the PR for her. So what did they do? After years of showing that they’re not even close friends, they called each other wives to mirror the husbands. It was so blatant it made me cringe how quickly their fans jumped on the bullshit that even GT laughed in their faces when she sarcastically replied to the fan “sooo linked.” Fair play, GT, I’d roll my eyes too seeing people eating it up so easily.

Just them on its own wasn’t enough so obviously they based their promotion on their men. Mirroring was awkward because the reason their men are popular is because their chemistry is real which AL/GT obviously don’t have. They knew they won’t stand on their own, hence the “family” (sooo close that David nearly fell off the bench to not touch AL accidentally) and they can be called husbands and boyfriends if they can be called wives, and they can have pics together… but mostly group shops so the women get promoted with them.

Hey, if you ignored them, at least we had lovely MS/DT moments who became a little more public.

It was clear the arrangement was only until BAFTAs - because this was the end.

David did three interesting things that day.

He did massive PR for GT - both magazines and red carpet and a kiss on front of the camera, which I said then will result in a job for her - soon after she announced a new agent - his agent - ding dong.

Then the rest was all Michael and him. Go figure.

And he completely excluded AL.

Next day we learned that Michael excluded AL from The Way. A show that included GT watching an intimate scene between two men who were neighbours. Which Michael and David are confirmed to be.

AL had a bit of a mental breakdown looking for validation on Twitter and Instagram. Obsessively reposting BAFTAs, whining about The Way.

Another blow came when GT cut her out. AL tried to keep the charade going but GT was done.

When GT announced her agent, AL ignored it.

There’s no more “family” things either.

My take is that AL perhaps was meant to have something sorted out for her by BAFTAs, unfortunately her totally not paid for photoshoot that she was totally picked up for… didn’t do the trick. GT got an agent out of David’s PR though.

AL’s heart grows fonder as she realises shit is going down and she starts hardcore convincing everyone that her and MS are happy because no modelling career is happening.

Meanwhile MS stays every night with fans or at the bar to not go home as he contradicts her.

GT meanwhile gets colder regarding David, showing she basically doesn’t give a shit about his accomplishments or tries to put her attention on herself instead. It’s a cold and harsh difference compared to what he did for her at BAFTAs.

Break up songs continue.

Both GT and AL go very quiet on social media. AL posts depressing things, GT is just being an ass about DT.

Both go to separate Disneylands.

Then a few things happen at once:

Neil posts that Michael and David are still very much in love.

David looks depressed as GT posts that picture with “Breakdown” in the background, song about a break up.

Michael struggles through a question about AL - talks about them not looking for it, but -the kids- so it was worth it - refuses to say he loves AL, refuses to say anything about her personally - it’s spoken like a rehearsed statement about an arrangement that at least they both have something out of.

Michael automatically switches to David unprompted - he turns into a sunshine, goes personal about him calling him lovely and very nice, and this is when asked about the rudest actor so also an awkward Q - which he made the most affectionate thing in the world.

Michael also keeps on bringing David up. Constantly.

David still in California.

Enty releases a blind about two men who went to Disneyland separately and one wife and one girlfriend are pushing a narrative of happy families while the men only look happy with each other or while talking about each other.

AL milks Assembly to her advantage for a whole day desperately while Michael stops performing because he’s too sick.

Neil reblogs all the moments Michael spoke about David.

Michael suddenly interacts with fans avoiding thousands of tweets of people totally seeing the love between him and AL (he didn’t use that word).

So what I think… - I don’t think the family unit was ever true. That was just PR to get the women out there. Because when they didn’t need it, it abruptly stopped. Perhaps men thought if these two get work, things will get easier. Unfortunately they’re not most employable.

The problem is that it looks like Michael and David are not happy with their women anymore and it’s bad enough that they’re showing it. The women know - perhaps AL is aware things are ending hence milking it until it gets public that they’re over. GT is hinting hardcore that things are falling apart - but are they going to sort it out or not? What stage these two couples are actually at - I don’t know.

Is David so unhappy he’d tip off Enty? I wouldn’t be shocked. Especially since his and Michael’s best friend told everyone David and Michael are in love right before the assembly. Which makes me wonder whether Enty and Neil dropping a 💣 was very much planned by Michael and David. Did they lose GT/AL support and looked for it in Neil, did the women only were happy to “help” when they were getting something out of it, or is this actually following a plan since the very beginning - Hard to tell. I’m not 100% sure because with GT promoting her and him being unhappy, maybe she is on it in some way. But… it is hard to tell at this stage. Maybe DT got her his agent so the agent would make sure GT doesn’t post shit about him when/if things are over. Maybe the agent is controlling the narrative now and helping to make the breakup least damaging for both.

We will see. This can still go so many different ways… the only stable thing is Michael and David and their love for each other.

#NightGoodOmens talks PR #NightGoodOmens talks Michael and David

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redheadspark · 11 days

Note

Helloooo!!

May I request Benedict Bridgerton with #8?

Thank you in advance :)

A/N - Thanks for requesting this, friend!

Nonchalance

Summary - Benedict hates making decisions, whereas his wife doesn't mind

Warning - just some fluff

“Ah, there you are darling!”

Benedict popped his head up at the sound of your voice, you closing the door behind you to give the pair of you privacy in his personal studio. He had a sketch book in hand, sitting at his desk that was clustered with paperwork and some ball invitations, a common custom for a newlywed couple during the Season. Though that was not on your mind, and clearly not on Benedict’s since he liked rather stressed and anything with his charcoal in hand and a knitted look to his brow.

You eyed him in concern, “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing highly important, my dear,” He replied in a huff, though he smiled at you as you glided over to the desk and perched slightly on the top with your arms folded, “I’m simply too stressed to draw anything.”

“Is it the invitations?” You asked him, looking over at the pile briefly to see the plenty of enveloped labeled “Bridgerton” on the top. There had to haven been at least 15 invitations there in all shapes and sizes. You and Benedict were looking forward to some time before as Newlyweds, initially you both going to go a holiday together away from the city for at least a few weeks before finally settling into your new life together. But of course, society and the new season around the corner seemed to think otherwise, already sending you plenty of letters and invitations to both friends and aquaintances of your families. Although you both loved going to these balls, mainly because you two met at a ball one season ago, it was much better to be together and have that alone time.

“You know, we can always say no to these,” You admitted to him, seeing him crack a slight smile, “I bet you anything that some of these balls are going to be happening at the same time anyways. I think some of these families are going to understand us not attending,”

You loved your new husband to death, but sometimes he was a bit of a people pleaser when it came to society and his reputation. His family was well known throughout the town, and the last thing Benedict and his family wanted to do was to have negativity against their name. Even when you met him and knew of his name, you heard plenty of stories and fake gossip. But those rumors and tall tales were swept away as you fell in love with Benedict and how he slipped into your heart.

“You make it sound very easy, darling. But we can’t just—“ You stopped him from talking anymore as you huffed and grabbed the large pile of invitations in your fingers. You placed them in your lap, Benedict watching with wide eyes as you were now flicking through every single envelope while looking at the label to see the family who sent it.

“Yes….not them…..their parties are mediocre…..hate that family,” You were sorting them rapidly, putting the good invitations on the left and tossing the rejected ones to the right. Benedict’s mind was spinning, his head moving back and forth as you were still going over each other and looking rather calm and cool about it.

“Their reputation is terrible…..the party last year was a disaster….they’re lovely….I love their mother….and done!” You said in a smile, placing the last envelope on the approval pile before look over at your husband again with a shrug, “That was easy!”

Benedict was still in shock, getting up from his chair and gesturing back at forth between the two piles,

“How….how did you..”

“Darling,” You replied, sitting up to be toe to toe with Benedict as he was grinning down at you, “I happen to know all of these families thanks to my mother and father. After going to plenty of these balls, I tend to pick up on the good ones and the bad ones,”

“Yet you choose so nonchalantly and with ease,” Benedict comment as you laughed.

“I’ve done it before, plenty of times when I came out in society. In fact, the very ball where you and I met was a result in me doing this very practice,” You explained, Benedict tilting his head at you as you admitted that to him. It was true, you choosing the ball to attending as a guest so long ago and making your mother go ballistic. She thought of it as brash, too bold, and because of your own stuborness you would not be seen or eligible for marriage.

She almost lost it from the news of Benedict asking to court you.

“I’m glad you decided to go that night, as was I since I was smitten with you and that midnight blue dress you wore,” He explained, lacing your fingers together and leaning down to kiss the top of your head with gentlest and affection, “Since then, you’ve been so good to me,”

“As you to me,” You hummed in agreement, “I do believe that we compliment each other rather well compared to our friends,”

“I don’t tend to think of other couples and other marriages, I happy to like my own marriage,” he joked, though you could see the love in his eyes and hear it in his voice. Benedict was over the moon when you two danced for the first time, even after when you two snuck away and talked about art and going to art school. He was surprised with your interest in art, though you were no artist yourself but you wished to learn the history. You in return would listen to him for hours in end talking about his own love for art and how he preferred painting over sketching.

It was obvious that you two liked one another, and the rest of history.

“Don’t think I don’t, because I do,” You agreed, kissing him lightly and giving him a slight tug with your joined hands, “Now, let’s get to bed. No need to think of these invitations.”

Benedict followed you willingly, leaving the stack of envelopes behind as well as his sketch that he was drawing, that sketch happened to be your profile.

The End.

April Prompt Session

#benedict bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #benedict bridgerton x female reader #fanfiction #writing

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rosainta · 25 days

Text

Team Fortress 2: 12 Flash Fiction Excerpts

('ms pauling' by makani on DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/makani/art/ms-pauling-208768568)

(Author's Notes (A/N) at the end. For now, enjoy these slices of TF2 writing cake, baked with the batter of my mind!) * * *

1 "The Runner's a Fool."

[Written 10-3-2024]

Scout’s heart was bursting as he ran through the underbrush.

He didn’t look back; he couldn’t. Not after what he saw. If he had known sooner, he might not have spent so much energy trying to woo her...

Maybe he wouldn’t have made such a fool of himself.

2 "Player of The Heart."

[Written 10-3-2024]

“Fine, one more time”, he grumbled.

Pauling gleamed as she turned to the tape player. Changing the song to something more romantic, she hummed along and placed herself into his arms. They began to sway with the music.

Sniper felt his heart racing, but his thoughts raced quicker.

He wondered: would the one he really loved be into this too?

3 "Long Overdue."

[Written 10-3-2024]

Spy knew what he had to do.

He sat down next to the crying boy, gently putting a hand on his back. “Screw off!” the younger yelled, pushing him away.

Seeing him like this broke him; it did every time. But he took a deep breath and said what he should have all those years ago:

“I am sorry, Scout.”

4 "What Happens if You Feed the Machine? (Or In This Case, Water It?)"

[Written 10-3-2024]

“Yer no fun, lad!”

“Come on now, you know how I’ve been goin’ dry...”

“What’s one bottle a’ scrumpy goin’ to do to you?”

“Well, let’s see here. How many eyeballs o’ yours do my teleporters teleport per use?”

“Er, one.”

“Well, expect that to be one less the next time ‘round, pardner.”

He chuckled, and in an instant, he gulped it all down.

5 "Soldier's Solace."

[Written 11-3-2024]

Soldier stared at the grand moon from the roof of the base.

After the day’s fighting and bread teleporting, the other mercenaries were off to bed. But Soldier remained, smiling contentedly from under his helmet without another care in the world.

Somehow, he knew that right then and for as long as he dreamed, everything would be alright.

6 "Буквы говорят о любви."

[Written 12-3-2024]

If Heavy learned one thing in all his years of studying Russian literature, it was that writing wasn’t something you did; it was something you became.

So, picking up the ink pen, he let his hand go and embodied with all he had what meant most to him.

“It is time I tell you, Doktor.”

7 "Like The Warmth of a Fireplace."

[Written 13-3-2024]

Pyro looked at Engineer as a child does a Mall Santa, clapping. “Huddah, huddah!”

“Okay, one more, just for you.”

The technician took a deep breath and began to strum on the old guitar, his low voice singing a song of pink skies. Pyro swayed to the beat in bliss.

And, with every hum, the two grew closer.

8 "A Smile Means A Million Words, That Is Until You Speak."

[Written 14-3-2024]

Scout liked sketching.

While words weren’t his forte, art allowed him to express what he felt but could never say. He licked his lips, furrowed his eyebrows, and furiously scratched at the page with a pencil. Every detail, every form-- they had to be perfect.

When he was done, he proudly smiled at his creation.

And it smiled back.

BONUS!

As he admired his creation, he didn’t notice Sniper approaching him.

“And just what are you scribblin' off today, mate?”

Scout snapped around, flustered. He wasn't expecting company, and especially not from him.

“A-ah, hey, Snipes!", he blurted out. "It's nothing, really. Just another drawing of Spy screwin’ those... stupid French bread swords, whatever ya' call 'em.”

As he stammered an excuse, his face slowly turning red, he didn’t realize that his creation's rough, sketched face-- a picture of the marksman himself!-- was peaking through the corner of the sketchbook in the crook of his arm. Sniper paused for a moment as he stared at the work in awe, its own happily gazing back at him. Then, snapping out of his trance, he wordlessly turned back to smile at the younger man.

“You’ve got some talent, kid," he said, softly. "Please, don’t waste it.”

Then, quick as he came, he ambled away.

Scout was left standing, bewildered, and admittedly a bit confused, and he slowly turned back to look back at his drawing.

He traced the rough face of the man, looking wistfully with a tinge of giddiness in his eyes.

“If only you knew...", he whispered to himself without thinking. "Maybe then I could draw you like one of my French girls.”

Then, upon realizing the stupidity of his own remark (and of its disgusting, Spy-related... Frenchness), he immediately gagged.

“Ew, crap, no!”

Somewhere in the distance, Spy instinctively rolled his eyes.

9 "I Feel Olive!"

[Written 15-3-2024]

Medic pinched his nose, a low groan rumbling from him.

"What is wrong, Doktor? You seem stressed", Heavy asked, concernedly lifting his nose from his book.

Medic turned to him, tired eyes smiling weakly. "Ah, it iz nothing. Just... ze dull, useless legal documents. You know, as per usual."

"Well, if it makes Medic feel any better, Heavy ran out of olive for sandvich, so eating it was practically useless! I could not even digest it without big frown", he said, frowning in turn.

He grumbled, continuing, "What Heavy means to say is... you are not alone in your troubles."

Medic paused for a bit, before laughing and grinning back at the giant. He was grateful for this goofy big old man.

"Oh, you alvays know what to say, Heavy. Come on, let us escape this prison of an office and find you that olive. I am getting quite hungry and ze papers can wait, after all!"

10 "Off-Target."

[Written 29-3-2024]

Scout's mind just. couldn't. think.

His head was jumbled, a puzzle with the pieces too lost in the messy maze of his brain ever to solve. He wished he could crack open his skull like he did the BLUs on the field; maybe that would knock some sense into him.

He really needed to focus. Sniper always did.

So, why couldn't he?

11 "Our Paths Shall Cross Again."

[Written 4-4-2024]

It pained him to see her like this.

So, for the first time in his life, he put his pride aside and took one last glance at the sleeping lady before leaving the room.

Scout wished he could stay all night and marvel at her familiar, sheer beauty, even as she slept so frail. But he knew what she needed most was not him, but help.

Who knew what she went through those 2 years?

He resigned himself to the couch, closing his eyes. His affections for Miss Pauling would have to wait, as they always did, but he was fine with that.

She was safe, and that’s what mattered most to him.

12 "Guess Who's Up For Surgery?"

[Written 6-4-2024]

Medic was practically laughing with joy! Or, in his peculiar case, cackling maniacally.

Ah, it was of no matter— the doctor was filled to the brim with inspiration! So many projects to start and bodies to stitch; oh, what a wonderful feeling!

Heavy smiled as he watched the doctor go about his merry way.

Sure, when he was in this mood, that likely meant imminent danger for all those around him (they’d be his newest experiment, no doubt), but seeing him happy always made Heavy’s heart feel a little lighter.

So, as the doctor bounced up to him with his newest rambling, he didn’t protest!

* * *

Author's Notes: Over the past weeks, I've been working on being more spontaneous in my writing—no planning, just writing with the flow! And what better way to do that than to write flash fiction about my favourite fandom? (Plus, I have been practically absent here (post-wise) for, what, months? So why not use this as an excuse to share them with you? Ehehe... Okay, let's forget I said anything; moving on!) Flash fiction, with its creative liberties and curt nature, is an excellent medium (not forgetting to mention the fact it's a disgracefully UNDERRATED form of media!) that inspires me to write because it sort of... brutally invalidates any excuse of author's block I have... since it is literally spilling the words from your conscience into text WITHOUT the worry of length (ah! My greatest enemies...). Plus, it is... sort of, maybe, kinda addicting because it's just so freakishly simple, and the more you do it, the more productive you'll be and feel! Isn't that wonderful? (It could even be a drug! Er, well, a good one... wait, is there even a thing as a good drug? Ah- nevermind.) Anyway, if you're struggling with author's block, I'd heavily recommend trying it. Of course, it may not work for everyone (and I am not here to legally endorse this like a paid sponsor!) but it's still worth a shot if you haven't yet already. And hey, if it doesn't, you can feel free to blame me for the waste of time! Don't worry, I won't mind. Before we go on, I have to take this moment now to thank the one sweet old woman (whom I've unfortunately forgotten the name of) who first taught me about it a few years back during a summer writing course. She taught me much about what I know and love today, so I owe this and much of my writing happiness and technique to her! Thank you, lady. May you continue to write on!! Anyhow, to give you more context, these are all excerpts taken from a private account (but not a secret one! It's out there... somewhere...) of mine, edited for quality purposes and also because a few of the original excerpts bugged me due to their... well, innate cringiness. Hopefully, there's less of it now, but I wouldn't count on my eradicating it as it seems that cringe is just a part of my habitual writing style (I am sorry to disappoint, unnamed woman from the course... I have failed you). I hope that at least is is bearable enough for you to read. However, if not, I offer you my greatest condolences. If you'd like some bleach for your eyes, I have that too. You can also tell by the number of Speeding Bullet and Red Oktoberfest excerpts that I was... in quite the shipping mood for some of them. So, if that doesn't bug you, feel free to indulge yourselves in these characters as I obsessively have over the course of writing these!! It would be my pleasure to offer that liberty to you (and perhaps, shamelessly to myself as well, ahaha..), so please, go ahead. Anyway, that's all of the random blurbs I have to ramble on about today. Thank you for reading- or skimming, at the very least- and please have a marvellous day, pally~!

~ Rosain Quivan

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hh0320 · 2 years

Text

☆ 🖇️ 𖥻 ＜꒱

— 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞.

pairing: art school! hyunjin x fem! reader (+felix)

genre: light enemies to lovers, love at first sight, angst, smut, barista (y/n).

warnings: profanity, jealousy, mature themes, chainsmoker hyunjin, unprotected sex, mentions of death (very brief).

word count: 4.6k

🏷 : @ughbehavior ty sm for your help! 🤍

i. 08:43am

Hyunjin was contemplating murder.

“You’re holding up the line, hotshot,” he deadpanned, burning holes in the dude’s back.

Awful pick up line cut in half, the man of the hour turned around, eyeing Hyunjin’s stoic face.

Well, not so much eyeing, all things considered. More like looking up, intimidation failing to quite…reach. Hyunjin wasn’t the tallest of men, standing at 5’ 10’’, but this guy was a fucking joke.

You couldn’t seriously be entertaining him.

Hyunjin grinned down at him, honeycomb hair falling in his eyes. “Scutter along, playboy.”

The man was too stunned to speak, grabbing his drink and fucking off to wherever he’d come from. Fucking finally.

You weren’t amused, to say the least, but then again, you never were when it came to him. Instead, you glared. Hard.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he smiled warmly at you, hands resting against the counter, arms flexing.

Your gaze dropped to the veins popping through his skin. You blinked, once, twice—ah, there it was, Hyunjin thought.

That rosy blush that painted your cheeks every time he did that—it made him weak inside. He wanted to see you blush for him, but in a different setting entirely.

Specifically, under him—

“What can I get you, Hyunjin? Surely you don’t come just to scare away my customers,” you snarled, wiping the espresso machine.

He ignored your little comment. “And, surely, you, my angel, know my order by now.”

He noticed the way your breath caught at the pet name, enjoying watching you make his coffee, flustered, avoiding his stare.

It had started as harmless teasing; freshman Hyunjin had walked into this small coffee shop, craving an iced americano, sketchbook in hand, excited about starting art school.

And then you’d turned around, and— well. Well. Hyunjin had never been in love, but he was pretty sure that was fucking it. You’d ruined him for any other person.

Too bad you hated his fucking existence. He’d tried his best everyday, to be soft, to tone down that damn sarcasm that always got him in trouble. He left you generous tips, came to hang out after or in between classes, sketching away as he stole glances at you.

You had called him a stalker, and he’d laughed in your face.

“A psychopath, then,” you’d claimed.

“Only for you, sweetheart. Why don’t you tell me your name?”

“Fuck off.”

He’d smirked at you, arms crossing over his chest. “I’ll take my time breaking you, angel.”

“I’d like to see you try, pretty boy.”

So he did. And, fuck, has it been fun, because he could see, underneath the tough exterior, and adorable mean faces, you secretly loved it. The attention he gave you, his overprotective ness of you, how jealous he’d get when boys would try to flirt with you.

You knew, deep down—you belonged with him. You did ever since he found you, almost two years ago.

Hyunjin carried himself with a sort of elegant arrogance; popularity had come to him easy. His talent was unmatchable—a product of numerous hours of hard work; acrylics, oils, coal, he’d practiced it all, and he can’t not admit that it had been lonely, locked inside a room, thoughts turned into color, painting becoming an undistinguishable extension of him.

Had the brushes and the pencils, and the papers not been there, he wouldn’t have survived. Perhaps, some thought that to be an over exaggeration , but there had been nothing else for him, except this.

The smell of graphite, the hard callouses whispering of softwood—blank, textured paper waiting to be filled. All he’s known.

And then you. His coffee shop girl.

ii. 15:31pm

“Put that out, it’s disgusting,” you commented, picking up after a table that had just left.

Hyunjin sat by the door, smoking, sipping on his coffee. Sun out, and a pleasant wind blowing, his sketchbook lay open on the pavement.

“What do I get if I do?” He dared, turning to you.

You had a beautiful neck, he’d always thought so. Sometimes he thought you did it on purpose; clipping your hair away, exposing it. He wanted to leave open mouthed kisses along the side, just below your ear, traveling down to your collarbone—

Hyunjin looked away, tongue licking against the inside of his cheek, and took a drag of his cigarette.

You mused over his question, tray in hand. “I don’t know, a longer life span, maybe?” You said sarcastically.

He hummed, chuckling. “Tempting as it is, sweetheart, I’ll pass.”

You raised your eyebrows, taking him in. Mid length, soft looking hair, sunglasses hiding, what you know to be dark brown eyes, an oversized t-shirt, and blue jeans, with black vans. Rings adorning long fingers.

Picture perfect boyfriend material.

And yet, he got on your last nerve every time he opened his mouth. You couldn’t figure out what it was, exactly—maybe the relentless flirting, or the smugness of him. But it was a shame, because he—

Well, he was fucking hot.

You shook your head, denying your own thoughts.

“Suit yourself, prince. That’s just what I think,” you went to pass by him, to go inside, but his hand shot out to stop you, grabbing your wrist.

You gasped, trying to balance the tray in your palm again, and looked down at him angrily.

“Are you fucking crazy, Hyunjin? All these glasses could’ve smashed on your head!”

He smiled at that, moving his sunglasses to the top of his head, squinting up at you. His hand was warm against your skin.

Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it—

“I would, for you,” he said. “Quit. I would do it for you.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you went to pull away from his grasp. He let you, that same smile staying on his full lips.

Your heart skipped several beats, bewildered. He confused the hell out of you, with his pet names, and longing looks. But you couldn’t ignore your mind, telling you what a bad idea it was to let such a person in.

He’d ruin you. There was no getting over someone like Hwang Hyunjin, that you were sure of.

Later, when he brought his empty coffee mug inside, he left a piece of paper underneath it.

Pretending to clean, you avoided him, making sure he was well gone before taking a peak at what it was.

A sketch of you—of your profile, more like, pouring a shot of espresso in a to go cup, colored in innocent pastel markers.

There your heart went again, betraying you. You looked around, before shoving the picture in your bag, dusting off your apron, awkwardly.

You hated Hwang Hyunjin. He was conceited, and pompous—he thought everything revolved around him. Talented, no question, but you wouldn’t fall for it.

You wouldn’t fall for him, period. You absolutely refused.

iii. 09:02am

Lee Felix would be your new coworker, your manager announced, and went back to his receipts.

“Train him good, yeah?”

You remained in your place behind the counter, broom in hand, staring at his blonde head and constellation freckles.

“Hi, (Y/N)!” He waved at you, beaming, as he grabbed an apron, and awaited instructions.

You knew Lee Felix—he was Hyunjin’s best friend, from what you’d gathered. At times, they’d walk in together, one iced americano, one strawberry smoothie, looking like they’d just jumped out of a magazine cover, and it would be very hard not to gape at them the whole time.

Felix was the extreme opposite of Hyunjin; this boy was made of the purest sunlight, the kindest customer you’ve ever had. He always asked how you were, and made small talk with you, as his friend scowled, and stared at you. Felix didn’t give borderline creepy vibes, unlike some—he was a genuinely sweet person, that always managed to make your day simply by smiling your way.

But—he hated coffee, always complained that the smell of it made him nauseous, so—what was he doing, working here?

You couldn’t help but be suspicious of his motives. You hoped it had nothing to do with a certain ‘I’d quit for you’ boy.

Not that everything had to do with him—

Ugh. Thinking of that interaction had your stomach doing backflips, and you weren’t certain if that was good or bad.

“Hey, star shine,” you gave him a small smile. “Ready to learn?”

He wasn’t horrible. He caught on fast, and tried his best, but the menu was long, and the recipes extensive, so it would take him a while no matter how bright he was. Not to mention working the espresso machine, something that had troubled you greatly—working with you he’d be okay, but if he ever was to open by himself... Suffice to say, you’d have your hands full for a bit.

Around lunch time, you made him his signature smoothie as a reward. Felix perked up at it, putting the straw between his lips, and chugging the entire thing.

“You’re the best,” he said, watching you prepare some pick up orders, back turned to the door.

“Eh… I’ve just worked here for too long,” you replied, simply, looking up when the little bell signaled a new customer.

“I got it! Hello, how—Hyun!”

Fuck. You put the Frappuccino’s in the cooler, filling plastic cups with ice. Anything to distract you.

“My two favorite people working together, huh?”

Felix laughed, leaning across the counter to greet his friend. You couldn’t help it, then, you caved.

Hyunjin was standing tall, and handsome, in his workshop overalls, paint all over them, a white t-shirt underneath, hair away from his face, in a half bun.

You nearly gave in. No person should be allowed to look that effortlessly good, especially when that person was supposed to be the enemy.

But why? Why did he have to be? Sure, he had a big ego, and rattled your nerves incessantly, but—that surely wasn’t reason enough?

You realized then, there was no justifiable cause for your hatred towards him. You just convinced yourself to dislike him, shoving him in a box and keeping him there, just cause of a smart comment he’d made when he first met you.

That was years ago.

Your heart told you it wouldn’t be for long. You can only deny the truth for so long.

Fuck.

iv. 18:10pm

Locking the shop, you threw the keys in your bag, turning to walk to the bus station.

You would’ve done exactly so, if you hadn’t noticed Hyunjin sitting on the stairs outside his school, cigarette in hand, sketching away. Normally, you’d leave him to it—many evenings he sat there, in his own world.

But today, he looked upset.

It’s none of my business—

But what if he needs someone?

Felix had classes, where is he at?

Sighing, you clenched your bag closer to your body, and crossed the street. You closed the distance between you, careful not to scare him, and even then you second guessed yourself.

You weren’t entirely sure why you felt responsible to fix his mood. But Hyunjin was rarely so visibly distressed, in all the time you knew him. He’d fake anger, sure, when he kicked male customers out with his snarky comments, and mean looks, but you’d never seen him this closed up.

You silently sat down next to him, peaking at his sketchbook. He was outlining the wings of a very intricate butterfly, tobacco ashes smudging the page.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he murmured, not once lifting his head.

“Hey…” you trailed off, not really knowing what to say. “What are you doing?”

He brought the cigarette to his lips, hair sheltering his face. His pencil continued its way to the main body of the butterfly, slightly shading the edges of the wings.

“Making a gift.”

A gift? You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “It looks pretty.”

He exhaled through his nose, smoke coming out of his nostrils. Then, he finally tilted his head towards you, face supported by his hand.

Your mouth opened, and closed. Hyunjin was sad—the kind that withered flowers, brought clouds, and caused rain.

You did not like seeing him like this, at all. You’d much prefer the cocky boy that was obsessed with bitter coffee, if that meant he got to keep smiling.

Perhaps, you cared about Hwang Hyunjin more than you let on. Perhaps, that terrified you.

“Why are you here, angel? Thought you hated me,” he said, putting the cigarette butt out.

“Yeah, I thought so too.”

He stared at you, unblinking, and then moved ever so slightly, ever so slowly—

He kissed you.

And it was many things, but his lips tasted like smoke and mint, his lips were soft and plumb against yours—he kissed you like he didn’t mean to, but couldn’t help himself, guarded and yet entirely at your mercy.

You kissed back. And you understood, then—you’ve always loved him.

Always dreaded him.

It very much felt like hate.

His hands cupped your cheeks, softly caressing the skin with his thumbs, his hair tickling you, his breath mixing with your own. You fall, and fall, fall fall fall, leaning deeper into the kiss, into him, and he lets you, guides you, opens the door greeting you warmly—

This is what I’ve been feeling for you. This is what I feel, and for the longest time I thought you felt nothing.

You pulled back, getting up suddenly. Losing your footing, you almost collapse on top of him, but he holds you up by your arm. You’re panting, denying, denying, denying, scared, fucking shaking, because—

What if you lost him? What if it ended? You’d build your walls up, keeping him out for this exact reason.

No one gets over someone like Hwang Hyunjin.

You had caved in, and you had lost already.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you told him, overwhelmed, panicking.

He looked at you from his place at the stairs, unmoving, quiet.

“You shouldn’t have—you—I,” you took a deep breath, willing your thoughts to make sense, “I hate you, I—I’m sorry, I just wanted to see if you’re alright.”

Hyunjin took his time closing his sketchbook, while you stumbled over your words. He took out his lighter, lighting what would be the last cigarette of his pack, taking a long drag of it, meanwhile never taking his eyes off of your embarrassed figure.

You were blushing profusely, looking at anything but him.

“I’m alright, sweetheart,” he finally replied. “Are you?”

You had to leave. “I’m sorry, I can’t—”

Hyunjin watched you go in a hurry. And even though, you freaked out and ran away from him, the fact that you kissed back made all the difference.

v. 08:35am

The next day, Felix opened with you, so he could begin to learn the routine of the morning shift.

Hyunjin didn’t come in, as he usually did on a Thursday. If Felix knew something, he didn’t say, instead focusing on grinding coffee beans, merrily humming to the song that played low throughout the shop.

After a rush—students getting their caffeine fix before classes started—it was just you and Felix again, wiping surfaces, and cutting cake slices for the display.

You had to ask. You had to ask, because it was killing you. You didn’t sleep a wink, instead running through the events of the stairs. You could still feel Hyunjin on your lips, even after washing your face, even when hours passed, and you lay wide awake on your twin sized bed, praying he would seep through your skin, at last, so you wouldn’t feel the ghost of him remaining.

“I have a question.” You braced for impact, thinking this would definitely get back to Hyunjin.

Felix threw an irresistible smile at you, waiting. “Shoot!”

You chewed on your lip, before breathing deeply. “I saw Hyunjin yesterday, by the stairs… Is—is he okay? He looked sad.”

Felix pursed his lips, and took a sip of his smoothie. “His mom’s one year death anniversary was yesterday.”

What? Oh my God. And you made it all about you, telling him you hated him, and disappearing on him after he took a risk kissing you!

You were a horrible person. If anything, you were the self absorbed one—you’d never asked, never cared—if he was okay, if he was having a good day. Yet, he always did.

In his own way. But he did, nonetheless.

“He never told you?”

You shook your head.

“I’m guessing he didn’t want you to pity him. He really likes you, you know.”

To that, you nodded, shamefully. “I do, too.”

Felix raised his eyebrows, smirking. “About damn time, no?”

“Now how about you tell him that?”

vi. 19:47pm

On Saturday, Hyunjin showed up just as you were about to close.

Dressed in jeans, and a band tee, hair wet falling across his forehead, he waited patiently by the door, while you gathered your stuff, lollipop hanging from his mouth.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly, as you moved past him.

Shop closed for the day, you two walked side by side, in comfortable silence. The sky was a thousand colors, and the weather was warm—life didn’t feel real, with him by you, like this.

“What’s with the lollipop?” You asked, trying hard not to look at him directly.

It was unfair to look that good sucking on candy.

“I quit smoking.”

‘I’d do it. For you.’

After everything, you couldn’t bring yourself to act as you did before, around him. It had seemed forever ago that your feelings for him were hostile.

You were incredibly ashamed of how you’d treated him. Everyone’s fighting a silent war, used to be something you’d tell yourself everyday, going through high school, but there you were, not giving the time of day to a guy that, if you were being totally honest, protected you from weirdo’s on the daily.

Challenged you, made your days interesting just by lightly teasing you. He never crossed a line, never insulted you.

“What’s that you got there?” He asked you, changing the subject, looking at the bag you were carrying.

You looked at it, too, remembering it was there. “Oh! Strawberry cake. It came fresh today, and I wanted to try it.”

You both looked up at the same time, eyes locking.

“Angel…” he seemed in a trance, time stopping.

Angel. Before, you’d roll your eyes, call bullshit. Today, where you stood, that word coming from his lips was heavenly.

You wished for nothing more but to hear him say it again.

Hyunjin cursed, arm reaching out to get your hand in his.

“We need to talk. Can I take you to my studio, sweetheart?”

Too caught up in his beauty to form words, you nodded, stupidly.

He smiled at you. A real, genuine smile. All for you.

vii. 20:05pm

His studio was utterly and uniquely him.

One huge room, half of it dedicated to art, filled with half finished canvases, and art supplies, backdrops hanging from the ceiling, projects piling on a desk on the far end of the window wall with the stained glass.

The other half a normal kitchen and living room, the two separated by a table counter. The mess appeared almost purposeful. The apartment wasn’t dirty, it was just—

The mind of an artist. Chaos.

“Amused by my inability to clean?” He joked, studying you taking in his space.

You scrunched your face, biting your lip. “It’s not that. This…makes sense.”

He chuckled, leading you by the hand to his couch.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

He brought spoons, and the two of dug into the cake, the fresh, ripe strawberries melting in your mouth. You moaned, excited to be eating something sweet after a long day at work.

Sharing cake with Hyunjin, at his house of all places. This was something out of your wildest dreams, and yet, it all felt a little too normal.

After all, this is a guy you’ve been seeing almost every single day for the past two years of your life. You’ve served him countless coffees, watched him sketch for hours—he’d even walked you to the bus station one time, worried a creep that had been flirting with you a little too aggressively, would try something.

In the moment, you never really realized, but in retrospect, you and Hyunjin had been together a lot.

Never this close, though. And you’d be lying if you said it didn’t feel different, this time, more personal.

You were sure your feelings were painted on your face, and surprisingly, you didn’t particularly care. You wanted it to happen. You didn’t want to keep hiding behind your finger, anymore.

“I owe you an apology. I’ve been nothing but a bitch to you.”

Hyunjin shook his head. “Don’t say that about yourself, angel. I came on too hard, and freaked you out.”

You turned to face him completely. He looked so calm, so content. How had you never seen it before?

Why had you been so adamant on pushing him away?

“No. I was still wrong. Let me do this—”

“(Y/N), please—”

“Hyunjin!” You sighed, exasperated. “This is why we fight. Because you’re so hardheaded!”

He laughed, then, hands reaching out to grab your face. You froze, astute.

“We don’t fight, angel. We bicker. I love bickering with you.”

His mouth attacked yours, pushing you down on the couch. Your back hitting the pillows, you circled your arms around his neck, hands caressing the nape of it.

It was like a fire lit between you, engulfing you both in its flames. Your whole chest was burning with the need to feel him closer, to touch him.

“Angel,” he whispered against your lips. Your eyelashes fluttered, the desire to kiss him again too strong.

“Tell me. Before I continue, tell me,” he pushed the hair out of of your face, lovingly, eyes gazing deep into yours, “if you feel the same. I’ve been hooked on you, sweetheart. Ever since I met you.”

You were about to tell him the scariest three words you’ve ever said—but he had to know. It was overdue, it was necessary he knew.

You touched his cheek, leaving a kiss on the edge of his mouth. He followed your movements like his life depended on them—on you.

“I love you,” you whispered.

The way his eyes lit up, that rare, addictive warmth of his that you’ve only witnessed a handful of times—you would never get enough of his happiness. It was such a whole experience, so very precious.

“Took you fucking long enough, my sweet girl.” He picked you up, wrapping his arms around you in the most delicious way, bringing you on his lap.

You could feel every inch of him—your hunger grew ferocious.

His eyes scanned your face, silently asking for consent, his hands at the hem of your shirt. You kissed him, instead, guiding his hands underneath.

He wasted no time getting you both naked, unhooking your bra, his tongue trailing down from your mouth to your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples.

“Fuck, angel, you’ve no idea how many times I’ve thought about this...”

His other hand moved down, unzipping your jeans, getting lost in your thighs. When he cupped your cunt, you were soaked.

“Goddamn, (Y/N),” his mouth devoured yours, crazy with want, cock painfully hard.

Pausing to remove your pants, you straddled him once again, running your hands over his firm arms, mouth moving to his neck, sucking on it. He groaned, his fingers finding your wetness, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

“Fuck… Hyunjin…”

“Tell me what you need,” he pressed his forehead against yours, your scents becoming one.

You, you, you, everywhere, always—

You moved against his fingers, rubbing yourself on him. The idea of you, doing this with him. It was absurd.

Nothing had felt more right.

All of your senses were wide awake, so entirely consumed by him, and his hands, his breath, his clean scent, the sweat forming, the way his hair fell in his eyes—

His eyes. The way they stared you down, feral, growing darker by the minute. The sounds that escaped your mouth were sinful, and he could absolutely not fucking take it anymore, he’s waited long enough, has wished for this, for you, in any way he could have you, take you, make you his.

His moans were a guttural sound, coming from the back of his throat. You put your hands on his chest, feeling the vibration of them, moving upwards, fingers wrapping around his neck, his head falling back.

He was the angel. He looked unreal, his naked body clenching, his movements never faulting, carrying you through an intense orgasm.

There were no words to describe—all of the buried emotions you refused to accept, they were all bubbling up, spilling out of you, destroying you, and Hyunjin was picking up the pieces.

“I need to be inside you, angel. Please.” Never breaking eye contact, he flipped you, positioning you underneath him, while he stood, one knee between your legs, arm extended over you, holding the back of the couch.

He stayed like that for a moment, just drinking you in, sprawled out, in his house, ready for him. He thanked whatever God granted him such joy, for he had dreamed of this many times.

You, wanting him back. His coffee girl embracing him, trusting him.

The moment he entered you, you both clang to one another, the feeling of his stretching you alone, overwhelming. His mouth against your ear, his heavy breathing scorching. You dug your nails in his back, moving with him.

“Fuck, (Y/N)…” His thrusts were slow, savoring, learning the ways you responded to him.

“Please, Hyunjin, please…”

Hyunjin watched you come apart, your broken moans music to his ears, a melody he’d like to memorize by heart. The way your body synchronized with his, your open mouth, head thrown back, unraveling before him—

“My beautiful girl…never leaving you—never allowed to leave me.”

A symphony. Heaven.

You made love like that, time no longer a concept, exploring each other, until you both came undone, shuddering, breathless, tightly enveloping.

A kiss on your forehead, and a silent question.

Will you stay?

You did; you stayed. You and Hyunjin talked till the early hours of the next morning, hands clasped together, hearts whispering, connected.

I found you.

I’m with you, now.

viii. 05:04am

“I’m sorry about your mom,” you mumbled against his chest, half asleep.

He froze, momentarily, a deep sigh escaping his red lips, fingers drawing circles on your naked back.

“She had to go,” he replied quietly. “That’s what she told me. The cancer was eating her alive.”

Your head rose to meet his eyes, your chest heavy. He looked calm, if not a little tired. He gave you a soft smile, his eyes forming crescent moons, promising you he was okay.

“It was just me and her, but I guess that’s why she introduced me to painting. So I wouldn’t be alone.”

“She liked butterflies.”

You laid back down, burying your face in the crook of his neck, in fear of him noticing the tears in your eyes. He felt them, anyway.

You would never forgive yourself for telling him you hated him. You never did. Hate him.

You hated the way he made you feel.

You would never be able to get over Hwang Hyunjin.

That was fine with you, as long as you got to love him, first.

#ficscafe #hyunjin scenarios #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids #hyunjin #skz #kpop scenarios #hyunjin fanfic #skz fanfic #mine.

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mrdixon · 6 months

Text

A Rugged Muse | Chapter 1

pairing: eventual daryl dixon x f!reader

wc: 3.1k

warnings: swearing, violence, slight depiction of gore, vomiting

summary: reader has a shit day. basically the day of the outbreak.

A/N: FIRST CHAPTER WOOOO i am clearly not an art major…. im in the different arts. so apologies to you visual artists im going off from my lack of knowledge from my hobby lol. i really hope you guys enjoy this series because i am EXCITED to write it.

a rugged muse masterlist |regular masterlist

“Fuck,” you groaned, slamming your forehead onto the desk in front of you. A few heads turned to look at you in the library, you cursed under your breath and looked up again after a moment. Adjusting the glasses askew on your face before looking at the paper on the desk. The paper before you was worn with erased pencil marks, slightly wrinkled. Art block was the worst, you’d rather be ten feet under than stuck with art block.

You sighed, it’s been months since your last project and even that was a fail. It didn't help that you only worked at a fucking minimum wage job, maybe you should've listened to your parents and became a doctor or something. It wasn't like it was always like this, no… art school was a breeze. You had hosted real galleries where people came to see your art, and now look at you. Moping around in a library, desperately trying to find something to draw.

After tapping your pencil against the table which by the way, earned many dirty looks, you scooted closer to the table. Picking up your old sketchbook and frantically flipping through it to find…. so many god damn drawings of, him. Your god forsaken ex boyfriend, but he was gorgeous.

You met him ironically enough in art class, way back in high school. He was there by choice, you were not. Yet everything about him was just so captivating that you couldn't help but not switch out of the class, thank god you didn't. You enjoyed the class more than you expected, painting being one of your favourite forms of art, oils being your preferred medium. You painted and sketched every moment of the day, not putting down that brush for one second. Your ex boyfriend was your inspiration, every detail on that stupid face was engraved in your mind like a marble statue. His beautiful plump lips and the beauty marks that scattered over his face being two of your favourite features.

Art was everything to you, and so was he. He was all you drew, he made life seem prettier and happier. But then he dumped you for some random chick he met in a bar, that was six months ago.

Since then you've had no motivation and no inspiration for your projects. Flowers no longer had their charm, abstracts looked dumb to you again, oils looked muddy. Nothing worked.

You picked up your pencil and started at the paper again, pushing your glasses up before hesitantly sketching out lines. Your mind wandered back to him, you still couldn’t believe it. After years of being together he’d just leave like that? Those years of pure, innocent love where you’d make breakfast with him, take baths together, even paint each other for fun. Date nights that were full of giggles and messily painting on each others skin, his fingertips grazing over your eyelids and nose as he sculpted you out of clay. He threw that all away for a woman he’s known for one night.

Your pencil moved furiously against the paper, scarring it like he scarred you. When you looked back down at it you noticed it was him, those hostile eyes from that night staring right through you. Those words of heartbreak echoing through your mind, words that came from lips that used to kiss you every morning. You huffed angrily, no matter how much you hated him, he always came back. He was always in your mind, plaguing your thoughts like venom. Slamming your pencil down you stood up, ripping the paper furiously.

Now there were whispers, people looked at you weirdly. After remembering your place in the world, you picked up your things and packed up quickly, aching to get back home to your bed. While in your haste, you dropped something. You already were in an irritable mood so you took a deep breath before causing a scene over a dropped item, crouching down to pick up just to notice it was the painting knife he had gifted you months before you broke up. The words ”To the love of my life…” engraved on it. After shoving the painting knife back into your bag angrily you quickly got back on your feet and headed towards the door, not before throwing half your sketches into the bin. As if you couldn’t get any more frustrated, someone bumped into you which caused you to whip around. Though no words came out of your mouth as you took in the sight of the person.

They were sickly pale, sweating profusely and trembling. Their eyes were bloodshot, matching the… bite wound on their forearm? They shook looking at you, mumbling a meek apology and pushing their sleeve down over their arm before walking away. Weird. Anyway.

You turned back around, must be some weird prank or something. Whatever, you were extremely tired and needed to get back to your apartment asap. As you left the library the humid August air hit you like a truck, not helping your heated mood at all. Grumbling to yourself you tried not to let it affect you, instead pushing your hair behind your shoulders, what a convenient day to forget your hair tie. Nothing was going your way, it was like the world was against you. A scream broke your thoughts, it came from somewhere ahead of you. Great, someone probably got mugged and now you were next. Just another thing to keep you moody.

A woman turned the corner, running towards you. You braced yourself for the mugging but to your surprise, it never came. The woman’s face was drained, it was as if she saw a ghost. She didn’t stop running, she was terrified and stuff was falling out of her purse but she didn’t even bother to pick them up. You watched as she ran past you without batting as eye, what is going on today? Shrugging, you picked up the stuff she dropped, finders keepers. Gum, tissues, tampons, condoms, and… her wallet. You almost jumped in joy, you could really use the money right now.

Finally out of your mood you practically skipped down the street, looking through the wallet and counting the cash. $10… $28… $48… $130… $135— oh wait that’s a Canadian $5 what the fuck— $140. One hundred forty fucking dollars in cash, that woman must’ve been loaded to carry this much cash. Well, now you carried it.

Another scream broke your daze, but this time it was closer. You looked up and saw another terrified woman running towards you, this time knocking into you which caused you to crash onto the floor, the cash scattering across the pavement. Back in your mood.

“What the fuck is your problem!?” You yelled, watching the woman continue running and not even look back. Is there a goddamn marathon you didn’t know about or what? You fiercely picked up the scattered cash, shoving them into your bag immediately before crossing your arms and continuing your walk back to your apartment. Fixing your glasses you saw a man get tackled to the ground by another man a street in front of you, was this happening to everyone???

Much to your horror you watched as the man on top mauled into the other’s neck, tearing through the skin and splattering blood everywhere. You froze, feeling your blood run cold at the sight. You watched as the man kept eating away at the now, dead person. The man’s head turned slightly to grab at more of the bloodied flesh, you now noticing the cloudy eyes and gray skin. This man was already dead, so how was he…

You snapped out of it, turning the other way to avoid whatever was happening. This had to be a sick joke. Your heart was beating in your ears, weaving through the back lanes to find a different path to your home. Hair stood at the back of your neck as your senses were now alert, if whatever that was is real, you had to be way more careful. It was quiet in the alley, calm. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Stopping for a second to catch your breath and recollect your thoughts, bending over slightly and placing your hands on your knees.

“Jesus christ,” you muttered. You couldn’t get the visual out of your head, that man was murdered right in front of you. His eyes bulging out of his head when he couldn’t even scream for help, that… monster ripping his throat out and devouring him in broad daylight. You shook your head, running your fingers through your hair frantically as you tried to rid your brain of that image.

A low groaning filled your ears and before you could register it you were falling to the ground, a grunt escaping you as you quickly turned onto your back. One of those things were falling over you, your quick reflexes holding them up by their shoulders. You got a clear view of what they looked like, their eyes were clouded over, veins more visible under their pale skin, their lips and chin dribbling with blood. You grimaced, trying to scream but nothing came out, nothing but a flow of air. They were strong, jaw snapping closer and closer to you. If you didn’t do anything now you’d end up like that guy on that street. No fucking way you were going to die like that.

Struggling a little, you lifted your legs under them and kicked from their stomach. Throwing the thing off of you, grunting you scrambled to your feet. The thing quickly following, their leg twisted as they got up from the position you flung them in. Surely it would’ve hurt if it were you, but unlike you, they weren’t living. You opened your bag and shoved your hand in, cursing yourself in your head for shoving everything in there. You held out your other arm protectively while stepping backwards from the thing. The hand in your bag searched wildly for something to defend yourself with, something to kill with. Could you even kill them?

Your back hit the wall, panic filling your body as the thing got closer. Before it could get any closer you tucked your forearm under their chin to hold them back, a loud cry escaping you as you fought to hold them back. When you were starting to give up, the hand in your bag finally found something metal. Ripping it out you immediately swung at it with the item, sinking it into their head which was surprisingly easy. Adrenaline probably. The thing fell to the ground, dead again.

You let out a heavy sigh, sliding down the wall. You looked down at your hands, bloodied with what you could only hope wasn’t your own blood. You were shaking profusely, your breathing uneven. You closed your eyes, trying to steady your breathing as you pressed your knees to your chest, the heel of your palm placed on your forehead. You stayed like this for a moment, you don’t know how long. But once you were ready you let out one last shaky breath before opening your eyes again, and glancing down at the thing on the ground in front of you.

You almost laughed as you realized you used the painting knife to end the thing, but you didn’t. You silently reached over and pulled it out, swallowing as it made a gross squelch sound. Looking down at your painting knife which was now covered in its blood, you wiped it off on their shirt. Taking a closer look at the body and noticing a bite mark on their shoulder, much like the person in the library. Your lip quivered as you imagined what had happened to them, what might’ve happened to you if you stayed. There was a low pit in your stomach as you stood up, your mouth suddenly filling with saliva before hunching over and vomiting. Your eyes filled with tears just realizing how close to death you were, throwing up your lunch.

You coughed, wiping your mouth on your sleeve before shoving the painting knife back into your bag. You had to get home, now. Your feet moved quickly, not stopping for even a second. There were barely anyone on the streets and you wondered if your home was even safe. Stop, your feet stopped. Don’t think like that. With a heavy breath you took off again, walking even faster towards your apartment building. Please, please, please….

You jolted suddenly as your phone started ringing, you grabbed it but didn’t stop walking. Answering without even checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” You said almost too quietly, still shaken up from your encounter with the thing.

“(Y/N)?? (Y/N), are you okay!?” The anxious voice yelled, it was your older brother, Glenn. You almost cried in happiness, walking even faster now.

“Yes Glenn, yes I’m fine…” you mumbled into the phone, breathing a sigh of relief that your brother was alive. “What is going on?”

“God, I don’t know. All I know is people are dying and coming back to life and eating each other and dying and coming back to—”

“Yeah, yeah I get it!” you cut him off, “I almost—” you stopped, deciding not to tell him about your fight. He was anxious enough, he always was but you didn’t want to worry him even more.

“Almost what?? You didn’t get bit did you!?” He yelled which caused you to pull your phone away from your ear in discomfort.

“No I didn’t, stop yelling.” You replied irritated, you heard him sigh on the other end. Hearing distant voices in the background. “Where are you?”

“I was at work when I saw everything go down, I drove back to the pizza place immediately.” He said more calmer, “but we’re gonna move out soon.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion, “wait why? Isn’t it safe there? Why not wait for help?”

“You didn’t hear? I thought you were always on your phone,” you scoffed in annoyance at his probe. “They’re setting up camps, courtesy of the military I think.”

You chest filled with hope, you were going to be safe. “Oh thank god, okay wait I’m going back to my place to grab some things. Where is the camp?”

When Glenn responded his end was filled with feedback, static. “It’s gonna. Arou— Ta—”

“Glenn?? You’re… you’re cutting off.” You said nervously, nearing your apartment.

“A— Yo— I’m—” And the call failed.

Dread filled your body once again, now you really were going to cry. You shakily walked through the apartment building, keeping guard for potential things around. Opting for the stairs, you walked swiftly up them. Out of breath by the time you reached your room, fortunately there was nothing to stop you.

Once you got in you immediately dropped everything, locking the door and collapsing to the floor. Tears filled your eyes once more and you let some of them escape and trickle down your cheeks, you were scared. Scared of those things roaming around, they could kill, you’ve seen it. You removed your glasses momentarily to wipe your face. You shook your head you took a deep breath and stood up, you had to pack and leave immediately. You didn’t know where you were going but you had to leave, you had to find Glenn.

Putting your glasses back on, you crawled over and rummaged through your closet carelessly, trying to find a backpack that was big enough to carry all your necessities. Your apartment was already a mess so you didn’t bother being slow and careful right now, which might have been a bad idea as you snagged your finger on a stray box cutter.

“Shit,” you muttered while pulling your hand back, a cut dragged along your index finger. You rushed over to the sink, washing it quickly before throwing a bandage over the cut. While doing so you heard a police siren drive by, the sound dying off as it drove farther and farther away. You sighed before returning to the closet, grabbing a big enough backpack and shoving as much clothes you could get while also leaving room for extra things.

You stood up and looked around your small apartment, your bed looked so inviting. You were exhausted beyond help, your body aching with the need to rest. I shouldn’t. You thought and continued scrambling for items to take with you, the amount of scattered pages of sketches filled the space that was your floor. Your heart broke at the thought of leaving your things behind but you knew it’d be useless to take with you, but you couldn’t take nothing.

You grabbed a few pencils and brushes, along with a small paint palette and placed them carefully into your bag, an empty sketchbook joining them. While searching you opened your desk drawer, three daggers which you made in a welding class a couple years ago. They were sturdy and well sharp enough, thank god you were good at making things. You took them and put them into a sheath to prevent stabbing yourself. You grabbed a few more things like a lighter, some bandaids, and batteries. You frowned at the lack of supplies you had on hand, but you tried to convince yourself that you’d be taken care of at the camps.

You moved over to your small kitchen and grabbed a water bottle which you filled, also grabbing a couple snacks that would keep you full for a few days at best. You heard a few distant screams outside, some screams of pain which caused you to wince. The sudden thought of living in an apocalypse dawned over you, a feeling of dread rushing through you. You couldn’t shake the feeling off but you chose to ignore it. You did not want to go into a panic right now, you had to have a clear and positive mind if you wanted to live.

You pulled your bag over your shoulders and walked over to your mirror to take a look at yourself, grounding yourself for the world outside. You wanted so badly to sleep but you knew you had to get a move on if you wanted to get to a camp safely.

“I can do this..” you whispered under your breath, clutching at the handle of one of your daggers, turning to the door. You just had to get to a camp, but more importantly you had to find Glenn.

★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★○★★○★○★○★○★○★○

more a/n: for the sake of having glenn as reader's older brother im having him be around 24-27 years old right now, reader being like 23 ish. and daryl will be like 32….??? i dunno im trying to make this as canon as possible BUT UGH IT IS SO $&£”*^%*£ so yeah there will be a little bit of an age gap between reader and daryl but i hope that wont be too much of a problem for you guys…. probably not. and do not quote me if i get settings or the timeline wrong like twd is confusing enough for me……….. again im also like rewatching and making sure to make everything as close to the show as possible, but theres also the possibility of me altering the timeline (muehehehe). anyways tysm for reading and stay tuned! ★

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl x reader #twd daryl #daryl x y/n #norman reedus #mrdixonposts #a rugged muse series

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vaard · 5 months

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Hey I just wanted to let you know, I've followed you for years in and out of WoW myself, but I've just always loved your art regardless of the game. There's just something about it that I adore. I can't put my finger on it, but I just wanted you to know that you inspire me to be a better artist too, and especially I love your raw sketches. So much love friend!!

Thank you so much, anon! This was really heartening to read after struggling so much with art the past few years due to very poor health. This is a wonderful pick-me-up, thank you!

I am back to WoW as of a few weeks ago after a very, very long hiatus and do have some sketches in the works. I hope to post them sometime soon in the next few weeks!

Thank you again, I really appreciate the kind words. They mean a lot to me, thank you.

#asks #vaard talks #anon #thank you so much this is so sweet #even though I haven't done anything in color in ages #I think my raw sketches are some of my favorite even if they aren't polished or flashy #it's so nice to hear they're appreciated

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writingpromptsworld · 4 months

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Prompt #56

When villain broke into the hero’s agency, they didn’t expect to see their posters hanging on every wall of the hero’s office. Pictures from years ago, little drawings lay around on their desk, scraps of their clothes held in a frame like some kind of precious diamonds. It was ridiculous.

They knew to some extent that they and the hero had something between them. A strong pull, a powerful desire, holding them both together. Attached to each other like a delicate string. But what they hadn’t expected was this. This obsession. This mad, crazy obsession that they could feel radiating off the hero’s entire office. It was like the place held every part of the villain. From the smallest detail to the biggest one. They felt a kind of unease, perturbed.

They looked around through all the memories from the little objects splayed everywhere. From the newspapers that displayed their headshots to their over-the-years changing costumes. Everything was so admirable and terrifying at the same time.

There was a clicking of a door opening, and the villain froze in mid air, whilst they were holding up a ring that they remember losing the last time they had fought, which was months ago. They couldn’t believe how long it had been since they had seen the hero.

“Oh, look who’s here.” The hero chuckled, locking the door behind them and coming forward to where the villain was standing, their hands now putting down the ring back on the table.

“I was wondering where my ring went. So, it was here. You’re such a dirty little thief, aren’t you.” The villain murmured, leaning back on the said table. The hero raised their eyebrows.

“I wouldn’t call myself that. I saved it from the cliff where we were fighting and thought to give it back to you after, but unfortunately forgot.” The hero explained themself, as they crossed their hands in front of their chest before uncrossing them again and strolling to where the ring was placed. They picked it up and examined it carefully.

The villain scoffed. “So, you’re a liar too.”

“How so?” The hero asked, not taking their eyes off the ring.

“You’ve been collecting all these things of me like a psychopath. And, I’m supposed to be the crazy one here?” The villain rolled their eyes, moving their hand to take the ring back from the hero. But the hero just snatched it away, frowning.

“I haven’t been “collecting” them. I’ve been merely storing them for you.”

“Oh yeah? Sure. That’s what people say when they are caught, hero.” The villain muttered, moving their feet to the suit they used to wear two years ago. How did the hero even find that?

“Hmmm. No comment”. The hero replied, putting down the ring and coming to stand by the villain.

“Where did you find this suit?” The villain questioned, turning their head to the side to look the hero in their eyes.

“It was in your closet, I found it thrown on the floor like some garbage. I couldn’t believe it. It was and is my favorite costume that I liked the most on you. I had to take it in.” The hero went on, staring at the villain back. A blush adorned their cheeks.

The villain’s eyebrows arched. “You liked it on me the best?”

The hero nodded hesitantly.

“Huh. Interesting. What about those drawings? Are you gonna say you were bored and thought of sketching me, your enemy, to get rid of that boredom?” The villain dared, their body now facing the hero as they stared them down with an intensity in their eyes.

The hero shook their head, and looked down. Not able to hide how flustered they were. “No, no. It definitely wasn’t out of…boredom, so to say. I like drawing, and-and you have an attractive face that I could use as a reference.” They gulped.

The villain smirked. “Do I now? Do you really think I’m attractive, hero?”

The hero’s eyes widened as they lifted their head. “You know, for a well-known person like you; I didn’t think you would be such a hideous thing.” The villain continued, amused.

“I’m not a thing.” The hero said, simply. Their blush deepening, as they tried to move away from the villain. The villain grabbed their wrist and pulled them back. The hero hissed, the grip was tight. Perhaps a little too tight and the villain knew it, because they smiled a little before tutoring their head.

“You don’t care that I called you hideous, but that I called you a thing? Tch.” The villain snorted in what felt like a very disappointed manner to the hero.

The hero swallowed, as they tried again to snatch their wrist away but the villain’s hold on them was too strong. They felt weak, just like how they have been feeling for the past few weeks, thinking of the villain. They couldn’t stop thinking about them, it was like a musical record playing on repeat for hours on ends. It felt undefinable. They felt defeated. The force of the feelings that they had for the villain nearly crushing them.

The villain tugged them closer and brought their face closer to the hero's face and smirked. "Does someone have a little crush on me?"

The hero faltered. "W-what? No."

"You're red as a tomato. What else am I supposed to make of it if not the fact that you're clearly blushing?" The villain wondered, their unoccupied hand moving to the hero's face to brush back a strand of hair from their eyes. The hero flinched at the action, taking a step back even though they wished so hard to let the villain continue, this was no time to get lose in their feelings.

"I am not blushing. You should get your eyes checked." With that, they turned around and broke the moment. The villain raised their eyebrows but said nothing and soon enough, left.

The hero sighed.

#writersworld #writing #hero x villain #hero and villain #writing prompt #writing ideas #story inspiration #story prompt #villain and hero #writers on tumblr #hero villain community #heroes and villains #prompts

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roses-artblog · 6 months

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So, this is from a sketch I had pretty much abandoned since almost a year ago, but I picked it up again to practice some coloring and lighting types, and I ended up with 2 versions that I like and I decided to post both of them ✨️

I know I haven't posted any art in a long while, but I've been busy with both work and school.

Yep, I'm back at school and enrolled in Digital Arts degree, surprise *says this after almost being done with the semester*

#my art stuff #rose's art #ygo arc v #arc v #yuzu hiiragi #yuya sakaki #fruitshipping #This time I'm honest on not knowing which I like better #feel free to say in the tags or replies

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idontplaytrack · 6 days

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The Practice

AJ Campos x fem! reader

Warnings: some coarse language, fluff, anxiety mentions

In which a shy reader gets invited by AJ to her house. Reader decides to make a move but is afraid of messing things up

Requested? Yes / No

“

Yourself? You were telling yourself how much you love you?

”

— Piper Halliwell, Charmed. Season 3 E1

(Pictures used above are found on Pinterest)

AJ Campos. Sister of the school’s most popular girl in school. But, also your friend. Or so you thought. For the past few weeks, things have been a little tense between the two of you. The girl’s been flirting with you and you never knew what to do with yourself, always coming off sounding like a lunatic. So, you decided to keep quiet, push her away. Hoping for it just stop. You liked her- you knew that deep down, but you couldn’t admit it to her. You just couldn’t do it. You were scared, scared that you’d read her completely wrong and her flirting with you was just for fun and not meant in a way that was hopefully romantic. So after a full fourteen days of avoiding your best friend, she’s definitely picked up on it— sooner than later, but she also didn’t say a thing about it because she wanted to figure out on her own just why you were acting the way you were.

Spoiler alert, neither of you were getting anywhere with it.

AJ didn’t want to get mad at you, but she was slowly getting there. Frustrated that you weren’t telling her what was bothering you.

“What’s the matter, AJ?” Gabi asks, sitting down beside her sister on the bench. AJ was sketching something in her notebook: a chipped tooth, with the words ‘I have fillings too’. AJ slams the notebook shut, not wanting her sister to ask about it. “Nothing.”

“Really?”

AJ scoffs, “If you know, then why ask?”

“I don’t know what’s going on, but I know something’s going on. That’s why I’m asking- so you’d tell me. And I can help you.”

“Help me with what?”

“Whatever it is. Look- we’ve already been through the whole King Pun situation okay? You not telling me that was fine, I get it. But now you’re upset and I can tell.” Gabi pointed at the book, “So, spill.”

“I don’t know how to explain it.”

“Just…say anything.”

“Someone’s not taking my flirting well…?”

Gabi squinted, “Who?”

“Um.” AJ inhales harshly, “y/n. I like her and I tried flirting with her, she flirted back like- one time and the next day she just completely shut me out.”

“So she’s not talking and neither are you?”

AJ nodded.

“Typical.” Gabi nearly laughs.

“What?”

“Come on. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened. Remember a few years ago when she tried to come out to you and got so anxious she ran off to puke?”

“That is a completely different situation.”

“Yes, but it tells you why she’s shutting you out. She’s probably just scared and not sure you’re actually flirting instead of…I dunno. Doing it for fun because you two have been besties forever?”

“I guess that’s possible…” AJ pondered over her words.

“How’d you get her to open up to you that time?”

“I literally just— I made her cry before she even agreed to sit down and talk to me before she could run away and avoid me. She was terrified and then somehow she just spilled it.”

“But it worked.”

“Yeah, but I don’t want her to cry.” AJ glared at her sister.

Gabi chuckles, “I’m not- I’m not saying you’re gonna make her cry. I’m saying, get her before she runs away from you and tell her you want to talk to her. I mean really insist on it. And if she says she needs time, give her time. But make sure she knows you’re not gonna just give up and drift away.”

With a soft sigh falling from her lips, AJ says, “Thanks, Gabs. I’ll try.”

“Breathe. You got this.” Gabi gives her a hug before AJ leaves, on a mission to locate you. It was lunch, you were eating and you had your phone on the table, face down. It buzzes so you pick it up.

Damn, she still wasn’t mad at you? You’d expected her to wash her hands off you by now. You read her texts but just couldn’t bring yourself to respond. You didn’t know what to say that would make you seem like a complete fool. In the meantime, you spent the rest of the school day debating whether or not to meet up with AJ like she’d asked. You were…distracted to put it mildly. Should you go for it and just see how it turns out? No. Right? You’ve already been making yourself seem like an idiot.

You asked for a lavatory pass and went to the bathroom to think it over, feeling the chatter in classroom too overwhelming for you to be thinking clearly. But it’s not like you were thinking about anything but her for the past two weeks…which was…bad.

Somehow or other, you found yourself leaning against her car, that afternoon waiting for her. Prepared— because you had written down a full fledged confession, but also just as unprepared because you were so anxious and couldn’t stand being in her presence.

————

“Hi.” AJ walks up to you, unlocking her car from a distance. “Thanks for coming to see me.” You gave her a tight lipped smile, one hand clutching onto your strap of your backpack as it hung on one side of your back. “Get in.” She said softly, doing so herself. You followed suit. The drive was silent. She seemed very calm, but you on the other hand felt like you were so on the edge you might throw up in front of her again. Forcing yourself to admit your feelings for her was a terrifying thing so far.

AJ leads you into her house, and up to her bedroom. You excuse yourself to be in the bathroom. “Oh no, am I making you wanna throw up again?”

“No…” You chuckled wryly.

Yes. Kind of.

“Excuse me a minute, please?”

“Yeah, yeah. Of course.” AJ shrugged, gesturing towards the ensuite bathroom.

That was the most you’ve said to each other recently. And it was awkward. Painful almost- that’s what you felt.

You quietly shut the bathroom door, walking to the sink. You propped yourself up by the palms, staring at your reflection in the mirror. “You…you gotta suck it up and admit it. Tell her. You can’t screw this up, y/n.” Shakily, you reached into your pocket to get the crumpled piece of paper.

‘I can’t lose you. I like you too much to take the risk- I don’t know if you like me the way that I like you and I’m so scared that it’d be the case. But I still…I still wrote this anyway: I can’t imagine my life without you. We’ve been in each other’s life since before I could remember and going a day without you is the most painful thing I’ve ever had to endure. I just hope that this stays to be the most painful thing and not you rejecting me…because I love you. I love you so much’

She knocks, the door opens as you said those three words. “Are you okay? Because you’ve been in here for like ten minutes and Gabi over on the other side of the door who shares this bathroom is breathing down my neck about it.”

“I was just thinking and then talking to myself…”

“You were talking to yourself? You were telling yourself how much you love you? Okay, good for you, honey.” She bit back a smile, “Come on out. Bathroom’s yours, Gabs!” As you exited the bathroom, Gabi walks in through her door.

You didn’t know exactly how, but maybe these two, nearly three weeks has forced you to really think about it all. How you felt about her, your fears, what you wanted…also. It felt like torture being apart from her for as long you have. Your heart was going crazy.

“AJ, I was uh-” You grabbed her wrists before she could walk back to her bed, “Actually…I was practicing what I was going to say to you if I could ever do that. In the bathroom. I’m just way too nervous to say it to you right away even though I’ve already wrote it down. I was going to plan a whole thing and give myself the time meanwhile to mentally prepare but I guess…here works too. Because every single moment I spend with you has been the happiest I’ve ever been no matter where the hell we are, no matter how boring or shitty the place or the situation is. It- It was wrong of me to just push you away like that and not let you know what was going on…that I needed the time to think.”

You were looking right into her eyes, and she was doing the same. When you feel the tears pricking your eyes, you saw tears brimming in hers. She sniffles, letting one hand go to wipe her tears away and she looks down for a beat.

You continue, “I don’t know everything, but I- I do know this- AJ, I cannot- I can’t lose you. I like you too much to have even thought of taking the risk and face possible rejection. Because I just know that it would hurt so damn much, AJ. I simply am not able to imagine a life without you. We’ve been in each other’s lives for so long and having to spend time apart from you was the hardest, most painful thing I’ve had to deal with. I like you, AJ. For a long time and I couldn’t admit it because I was so scared of what could or couldn’t happen. But I’ve had enough of fear, I’ve had enough of letting it control my feelings and my life. I don’t want to fuck this up…I don’t want to lose you. I need you in my life. I love you.”

Admittedly, your stomach was very unsettled but you pushed through. “I…” AJ chuckles, “That’s- wow. Took you long enough to figure it out.”

“I’m sorry.” You laughed tearfully, unable to hold back the tears anymore.

She sighs softly, caressing your cheek. AJ shook her head, “Don’t apologise. That was good.”

You licked your lips, exhaling shakily, a whimper gets caught in your throat as you reached out to hug her. Instinctively, she hugs you back even more tightly and was rubbing your back to calm you down. “I love you, baby. I love you so fucking much. You’re alright. Shh. Thank you- that was the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

#auli’i cravalho #aj campos #crush(2022)#hulu crush #wlw fanfic #queer fic #lgbtqia #queer #wlw fluff #x reader #female reader #reader insert #sfw fic #wlw romance

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darsynia · 1 year

Text

Just Right | Ch 1

(Steve Rogers/F!Reader, post-Ultron multi-chapter)

gif by @dailystevegifs

Summary:

You've been in love with Steve Rogers for at least a year, but he treats you the same way he treats every other member of the team-- with respect, but nothing more. It takes an inter-dimensional mistake and a whole second, more assertive, actually interested Steve for you to realize that you don't want just any version of Steve Rogers-- you want the one you've been pining for all this time.

Length: 2,998

FIC MASTERLIST | NEXT CHAPTER | MCU MASTERLIST

Ok so the thing is, I adore @ronearoundblindly, and I decided to write her this. The idea I got also very happily fits with my Avengers Bingo square of 'Is it permanent?' It's not my first Steve fic, but it is my first Steve/Reader! I hope you like it Ro.

Reader's nickname 'Dine is pronounced 'Dean.'

Chapter One

You simply can’t believe this is happening.

Fifteen minutes ago, while you were going over proposed alterations to Sam Wilson’s Falcon suit, a person who looked exactly like Steve Rogers walked through the wall right beside you.

“Oh my God!” you’d immediately said. “Do not tell me that Stark created some kind of matter splitter that lets a person walk through walls, please? I live here. I don’t want to put alarm lasers in my bathroom, but I’ll do it!”

Steve had looked behind him at the solid wall and seemed surprised. “I’m sorry miss, but just a second ago, that was a doorway.”

“If you two are trying to distract me out of noticing that the controls for Redwing are different, it’s not going to work!” Sam said, his focus remaining on the sketch you’d mocked up for him.

You’d looked back over to Steve, and that’s when you noticed that something was… off. First of all, you hadn’t designed that uniform, but he did have a few vintage ones still floating around. Second of all, his hair was longer than it had been the previous day at the monthly midday meeting.

The third difference was the way he was looking at you. Admiringly. Something he’d never done before-- you would have noticed.

Sam asked a question about one of the altered features, and as you went through your explanation, you’d kept an eye on the way Steve was wandering through the large room. He seemed to be growing more and more confused, picking up an item to frown at it, walking around one of the free-standing computer terminals, and generally seeming lost. More than once, you’d caught him looking over at you in confusion.

With alarm bells going off in your head, you had made a decision. “You know what, Sam, I think I just caught a problem with this. Can I fix that and have you go back over it tonight, after the dinner thing?”

“Sure, ‘Dine. How many wings did you sign up for?” Sam had said challengingly.

“Oh no you don’t! That’s confidential information. Not as many as you, that’s all I’ll say.”

“You know it. See ya, Steve,” he’d said on his way out. You’d walked along with him, and once Sam was through the door, you hit a very specific button on the panel next to it.

“I think you know I could probably break through any one of these walls,” Not-Quite-Steve said from across the room. He sounded regretful.

“I mean, you could try, but this room is fortified. We test prototypes here, and not every invention behaves as expected,” you’d replied, a little proud of your deliberate double meaning. The button had sent an alert to just Stark, for now, but it also turned on a live recording of the whole room, displayed in certain spaces all throughout the complex.

“That’s why there are no windows,” Faux-Steve observed calmly. “Basement of the tower?”

You had willed yourself not to react to that. After the disaster with Ultron, after losing Bruce to fury and almost losing Stark to guilt, they’d all moved upstate, away from the bad memories. Was this Steve from their past or a whole other future? Was he really Steve at all?

“What were you doing right before you came here?” you asked, walking slowly over to the locker area. You’d probably fit into a few of the things there, if you had to.

“Arguing with Tony over something I thought he shouldn’t be doing.” He’d offered her a thin smile and slipped his hands into his pockets, like that would make him seem less dangerous. You knew better. “Look, whatever it was, it sent me here, and this ‘here’ isn’t my here.”

Natasha had taught you never to give too much away. “Oh?”

“My ‘here’ doesn’t have--”

Before Fake Steve could finish his sentence, Stark burst into the room completely suited up, and things had gotten chaotic from there.

You’re on your way up to one of the open office rooms to write down everything you can remember, but as you get closer to the correct floor, you slow down. You have a bit of a dilemma, and no amount of reassuring yourself is helping.

The sticking point is how you realized something was wrong, what first made you recognize a discrepancy. The longer hair thing will probably be enough, but it isn’t the whole truth. You don’t want to reveal the whole truth, because the whole truth involves something you’ve kept to yourself for over a year.

The real truth is you are head over heels in love with Steve Rogers. Your Steve Rogers, except he isn’t yours. He’s never looked at you the way this one just did.

You haven’t let that be a problem, of course. You’re in your dream job; after being in armor fabrication and development at Stark Industries for years, you’d been recruited by Tony Stark himself to work with the Avengers. It’s been a genuine pleasure creating individual designs that are tailored to each fighter’s strengths and weaknesses, instead of the mass-produced stuff you’d worked on for Stark Industries.

You’d tried hard not to let yourself show any favoritism, after you’d realized your crush on Steve wasn’t going away. You don’t even call him Steve, except in your own head-- but all of that is at risk right now. You’re tuned to indifference, and the open interest you’d caught a glimpse of today is sending your senses reeling.

“Hey, ‘Dine. Tony sent me up to make sure you’re okay, said you looked a little shaken up.” It’s Natasha, and she’s coming your way down the hall. Now you’re even more shaken, because if Stark noticed, Nat sure as hell will.

“I need to write this shit down, but yeah, a little bit,” you admit. “It’s like if instead of Vision, the model in the cradle was Rogers, and they got him 95% right.” With a 5% ‘thinks I’m cute’ flaw, you don’t say aloud.

Nat follows you inside and stands waiting as you busy yourself with finding an incident report and the exact right pen. You handle it right up until you start writing your name and her shadow darkens the rest of the paper.

“Something you need?”

“You’re freaked out.”

“Well, yeah. If an interdimensional version of St-- Rogers is able to stroll into our test room, we’re going to need some equally interdimensional protections for this place, not to mention a thousand thousand other important locations all across the country!” You’d just picked something out of midair to bluff her, but it’s the truth, and now you’re even more worried. You set down the pen and look up at Natasha. “What if they need him, Nat? What if we can’t send him back?”

“If it’s something Tony built, Tony can build it,” she says pragmatically. “One worry at a time.”

“There she is!”

You’re late to the gathering, and you’re going to have to make up an excuse, because the forty-five minutes you spent dithering over your clothing choices had everything to do with the image you wanted to present tonight. You ended up going with something casual, dressed-down, because as much as you’d felt a little thrill at the way Alternate Steve had looked at you, it had been disconcerting and alien. No way did you want to foster more of that.

You look up and smile weakly at Sam-- until you remember something. “Shit, Sam, your thing! I’m so sorry, I didn’t go back in the room after--”

He comes over and slings an arm around your shoulders, comfort bred by familiarity. “No, I get it. Don’t worry, manufacture isn’t set for another week.”

You relax into the hug, slip a hand around his waist and squeeze before both of you let go. “It’s just that I promised--” This time it’s Sam’s expression that interrupts you.

“You know you design this stuff, you don’t have to act like armor yourself, right? You sensed something right away, didn’t you? And you got me out of the room.”

Stark’s loud, defensive voice cuts through your mumbled explanation.

“-veryone’s giving me shit over this, but I’m not the one who screwed up! And I’m the one who’s going to fix it, so lay blame on the correct Stark! Who is, for once, not me.” He’s been making his way over to you to thrust your favorite beer in your hand without asking. You look around for Sam, but he’s gone. “If anyone should be mad, it’s ‘Dine,” he shouts over his shoulder. In a quieter voice he adds, “Don’t tell them I said this, Brigandine, but I apologize on behalf of my bumbling alternate universe counterpart. Who knows what kind of weird traits IMPOST-Steve has that our version doesn’t!”

You already feel sick, and you haven’t drunk or eaten anything yet.

Stark drags you over to the catered wings and fills a plate for you without paying much attention to the cues you’re trying to give him, which is tipsy-typical. Honestly, you’re kind of grateful; with a plate piled high you’ll have every excuse to focus on your meal instead of the cluster around the Steves. Your gregarious boss at least carries it for you, and you indicate the farthest table. This earns you a bit of a concerned look, but you just clink your beer against his and tell him to shoo.

It’s interesting watching the seemingly identical men holding position, holding court, really, as the various Avengers and associated staff ebb and flow around them. It takes a good hour (and half of your plate) for each person to get some time with the newcomer, after which the lights dim a bit, along with everyone’s senses. This is the open-bar payment for the all-hands monthly midday meeting of the day before. Not all the attendees actually live at the compound; you only see the whole team once a month.

With the lights down low, your corner is practically dark, but when a familiar figure approaches, you know who it has to be.

“Have they settled on a name for you yet?”

“Tony seems to favor ‘Major America,’ which is better than I would have expected,” Not-Steve says as he pulls out a chair and settles into it. He turns his head toward you and smiles, the relaxed, almost-flirty kind you’ve always wanted from him. “I get the feeling that if it weren’t for the contrast in uniforms, most of these people wouldn’t be able to tell the difference.”

You make a non-committal noise and finish off your beer. It takes a few gulps, but he just watches, like there’s anything more to see than an anxious, embarrassed woman incredibly out of her depth.

“What about you?” you ask, afterwards.

“Well, we don’t have this complex, which I think I gave away when we met the first time. Tony asked me not to go too deep into the changes--”

“No, no, I get it,” you interrupt. “There could be something we don’t know about yet.”

“And vice versa, yeah. It might have taken longer for me to figure things out if it weren’t for one of the biggest differences. I’ve never seen you before.”

The half-bottle of alcohol hits you just as he says that, and you stare at him.

“Yeah, seeing Sam so comfortable with a complete stranger in a room that strangers probably shouldn’t be allowed in ticked some ‘danger’ boxes for me,” AU Steve says.

The light from the only nearby lamp edges his profile in yellow, and you decide to call him Gold Steve in your head, because ‘AU’ is the periodic table symbol for gold, and that’s what passes for clever for you right now. You’re so proud of this that you miss the next thing he says, and have to ask him to repeat it.

“I said, how did you know? You knew right away.”

“Your hair is longer,” you say, a little too quickly.

Gold Steve tips his head sideways and regards you with a look that amplifies your blood alcohol content to dangerous levels. “It’s a subtle difference. You noticed that?”

“For all you know, it’s my job to keep everyone up to regs,” you joke.

His slow, easy smile is familiar enough, but for the fact that you’re alone together in a dark corner. “I wouldn’t mind that at all,” he says warmly.

It’s time to get out of here before your lost dignity is your only legacy here at the Avengers compound. Already the tipsy feeling is fading, but the Steve Proximity Alarm is blaring at full volume.

You didn’t actually know how accurate the thought was until Gold Steve stands and gallantly (bafflingly) offers his arm, and you hear a second familiar voice behind you.

“I don’t think that’s necessary, is it? She just had the one beer.”

Gold Steve reaches up to rub the back of his neck, clearly chastened. “No, of course. Just instinct, I guess.”

“This is above my pay grade,” you squeak, and set off toward the door. You’d been looking forward to talking to Clint while he’s here. There’s a containment idea you’d had for some of his more dangerous arrows-- but there’s no way in hell you’re staying around to watch Steve Rogers talk Steve Rogers out of paying attention to you.

As you slip through the door, you hear one of them call out, “‘Dine, wait!” but you have no idea which one of them it is.

The next day brings with it a more detailed plan of what to do with Gold Steve. You’re on the periphery and busy with the planned upgrades to Sam and Clint’s gear, so you only hear about it at lunch.

From Gold Steve himself.

You hadn’t even planned to go to the cafeteria area, but as always, your minifridge is sadly devoid of take-out when it really matters. The kitchen looks safe when you get there at two PM, late as usual, but in your defense, you were really caught up in the creative process.

One of the things you love about the Avengers Compound is the random thoughtfulness scattered everywhere. In the cavernous freezer, there’s always a supply of various frozen meals, almost as if you were living back at home and digging in your mom’s fridge to find something she’d made two months ago. They’re made biweekly but eaten any old time, and you score a hit on the back bottom shelf: your very favorite hearty soup.

You’re mid-microwave with it when Gold Steve walks in to rinse out his bowl. Seems he’d made the same exact thing. You wonder who helped him, where that person is now, and why Stark had thought it necessary to design a kitchen with only one way in or out. Hasn’t he ever seen Jurassic Park?

“Oh, hello,” Gold Steve says. You aren’t looking over at him, but you can hear the smile in his voice. You don’t answer right away (because your brain is running through a fragmented list of things to say, and every time you grab one it’s garbled. ‘Soup is for the winter,’ is right out. ‘It’s nice to not expecting to see you here’ makes you nearly abandon the kitchen and push past him out of sheer desperation), and he fills the silence for you. “Oh, that smells familiar, is it the soup?”

You nod, hoping like hell that his version of Tony Stark hasn’t designed telepathy.

“Maybe it’s bad form to joke about it, but I wouldn’t mind taking that recipe back with me. If we figure out how to send me, of course.”

If this was your Steve you would have said something like, ‘I imagine we’d just write it down and put the notecard in your pocket.’ You do joke with the guy, it’s not like you never interact. It’s just that those interactions are as platonic as two houseplants sitting on the same indoor windowsill.

The microwave dings, and you excuse yourself to grab the spoon over near where Gold Steve is standing. After a stir and a taste determines it needs more time, you grit your teeth and start the timer for another minute.

“I’m sorry I make you so uncomfortable, if you don’t mind my saying.”

“You don’t!” you lie, but Gold Steve’s crossed arms lay on the guilt too much to ignore. “I’m… not used to the attention,” you say delicately. His brows furrow, and somehow there are still forty more seconds on the timer before you can be saved by the bell. “She who is seen and not heard?”

“I don’t believe that for a second. Sam Wilson hugged you at that thing last night, you don’t get there by being seen and not heard.”

“Yeah, well, I’m one of the only people who love Redwing as much as he does,” you mutter.

To your delight and horror, Gold Steve comes over and rests a heavy hand on the microwave door, inches away from you. “I cannot imagine being in a room with you and not seeing you,” he says.

The traitorous microwave beeps loudly, startling you sideways into his arm for one shocking second. You back away, saying the first thing that comes to your head.

“Why?” You close your eyes tightly as you realize you’re basically asking for a run-down of compliments from the guy, rushing to say, “I don’t mean that. I mean, I do, but I’m just--”

You hear the sounds of the microwave being operated, and confused, you just stand there with one hand clapped over your mouth, eyes closed. After two loud beeps and the start button, the microwave runs for a few seconds, beeping loudly again. It’s so unexpected that you open your eyes and see Gold Steve with an encouraging look on his face, one hand held out placatingly in your direction.

“Can we start over?” he asks.

Next chapter...

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