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tehriel · 1 year

Text

Terzo x reader

A snippet of my first chapter

No warnings needed for this, a little spicier in later chapters. Slow burn, lots of character interaction.

Reader insert is a commission painter, little murder, little intrigue. Ghouls. Fun.

Ps. I don't speak Italian, google translate take the wheel.

“You can speak, you know?” You said after a while, as the stench of oil paint streamed out the church’s window and into the warm of early autumn. The set was then together with satin drapery in the background, golds and purples to compliment Papa’s robes and a gathering of ornate trinkets you found might be interesting to paint. Basket of apples on a pedestal for temptation, fig leaves, Adam, Eve, interesting goat statue. But Papa had started fidgeting, they alway did. Especially someone who is as strangely pent up as Papa. “I'm only sketching in shapes, expression comes in much later, I've got basics for the skull and hand. You can rest them for now, if you'd like.”

“I see,” he said quietly, setting down the skull and stretching his hand to rest on the arm rest. “So uh, hmm, what got you into painting, caro Pittore?”

Caro Pittore, he’d said it enough you googled it while setting up, ‘dear Painter’ in masculine. The man had game, and still, you couldn't bring yourself to ask him to stop on that front.

You gave a soft sigh, pretty much everyone asked that question, “I don't really have an exciting plot for you, Storyteller, same as anyone got their job, except for maybe you, is that a lineage…?” you raised a finger to stop yourself. “What would be more fun, and something I've done with clients before, we play a game of assumptions. You only get to meet a person for the first time once in your life. Why ruin the surprise with real answers? Life is so boring. Tell me, who do you think I am, or shall I start with you?”

A glint blossomed in his eye just long enough for you to catch it in your piece, just a sketch, it could get lost in the layers but for now, it was there. “Please, Pittore, it’s your game, show me how it is played.”

“Let’s see,” you turned your head this way, then that, sizing him up. “When you were four, your best friend was a goat. You were of course born within the church and so goats are very friendly faces to you.” A smile cracked over his face, “his name was Stanley.”

“Stanley the fucking goat? From Italy, huh?”

“Why are you laughing at his name? He was your best friend! Goats don’t live as long as you are old, so may he ever Rest In Peace.”

“Old, huh? Shit, we can't be more than ten years apart.”

“If I'm honest I cannot tell, your makeup makes it completely ambiguous. Your turn.”

“Okay, uh, you said you've painted for churches before, you grew up religious, si?”

“The detective work!” You leaned into it with a surprised look.

“Boarding school, horrible catholic nuns, you saw through the dogma but to this day some sexual acts are too taboo for you to even consider… or did it entirely push you in the other direction, huh?”

“Yes, I am still scared of nuns, her name was sister Josie and she liked hitting kids with rulers entirely too much,” you said very seriously.

“How close was I, caro Pittore?”

“Somewhere between very close and not even in the ballpark.” You laughed back, “is that a back story or a personal kink, Papa?”

“Eh, you know, religious trauma, anti-pope,” he pointed at the hat with his free no- longer-skulled hand, “it's a thing.”

“What is the pope-hat called?”

“Pope-hat?!” He almost broke posture in laughter, but he restrained himself. “It's a mitre.”

“Ah, such a sexy name for a pope-hat. Either way, I’m glad I fit your bill Papa, and you--you became Papa Emeritus the third, because there was a bloody tournament where all the Papas fought eachother and though you won, you had to consume all the others to gain their knowledge.”

“Yes, of course, it was a very uh, prestigious tournament called the, 'tournament where we just fucking eat eachother’, but it's in old Latin so it sounds better than when I say it. Si.”

“You must be very knowledgeable then.”

“Eh, only the bedroom expertise tracked across unfortunately, but you know, in their name I make sure it doesn't go to waste,” he actually winked at you.

You shook your head with laughter and scribbled in a wink with your burnt umber, to get lost in the layer but stay marked there forever. You took a sip from your water bottle, legs growing tired from standing.

“Along with the religious trauma, you have ‘daddy’ issues,” he accused.

“Ah, I’ve seen what you've done there, Papa.”

“Si, you know, really heavy issues with your father, you once fought him on a yacht, he fell over the side, pshhh.” He looked like he wanted to move his hands in an animated kind of way but held back. “You never saw him again. You thought he was dead but he faked it… found him in Mexico years later with a new step momma,” he shook his head and looked genuinely crestfallen for you.

You nearly spat out the water you had been sipping on. “Oh, well, my ‘daddy issues’ make me fight the patriarchy and get spicy in bed. Obviously not too spicy, don't want to stoke the vengeful ghost of sister Josie…”

“When did she pass? I'm so sorry,”

You giggled, “but your mummy issues just make you sad and unable to control your emotions!”

“Is that fucking right? Not projecting are we?”

“I don't know what you mean, Papa~ and yes, she treated you so poorly, she used to use you as a footrest while she watched her shows. Even now ‘the days of our lives’ opening theme gives you flashbacks.”

“And through all my shitty violent outbursts you think you can fix me, si?”

“Yes of course, naw, Papa, we’ve all seen how far you've come and we are so proud of you.”

Papa Emeritus gave up holding his pose and leaned forward laughing. “I very much like this game,” he raised a gold clawed finger.

“Oh, bless your unholiness, you miss your mother so much, you wear her nails.”

“Stop, fermare, non, it hurts,” he held his stomach.

Thank you for reading and thank you tumblr for removing all my lovely italics,

More here:

#ghost #ghost band #ghost fanfiction #terzo x reader #terzo #reader insert #ghost bc #the band ghost #fan fiction #fanfic #ghost fanfic #papa emeritus lll #papa terzo #papa emeritus iii #terzo fanfic

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sipsteainanxiety · 2 years

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< MERMAN BAKUGO 3 i’m so so in love with the way you write him!!!!!! you’re so right about katsuki being the type to do things on his own terms, even when it comes to forming relationships. also these are my favourite types of slow burn, i’m super impressed with the detail & the research that went into this!! the one part that sticks out in my mind is the part when katsuki doing his sketches in the journal ( which in and of itself is a mind numbindly adorable concept, big merman bakugou hunger over this little sketch book like a little kid is so cute, i loved that imagery ) but the part that made me take a second to just be like, woah, was the bit when you went out of the way to mention how the pressure of his pencil markings changed the more comfortable he got with using it. it’s a bit strange now that i’m writing it out, especially since everything else about this was SO good and heartwarming <33 but it made me take a moment to rly appreciate all the finer details, even something as small as that contributes to how it comes together & i just think it was a brilliant touch. you definitely have katsuki pinned down, everything from the way he speaks to his mannerisms just seems so natural for his character & i love this interpretation of him! the way you describe him too is just !!!!!! just big & powerful but ethereally pretty with a handsome grin, got my heart racing man <33 other little details like the genus and species of coral were really interesting! i looked up each one which was nice to have that added visual aspect which made it all the more immersive. merman bakugou is one of my favourite aus ever and you did just such a brilliant job, hands down one of my favourite bakugou fics now! can’t wait to read more of this of its a series because i cannot get enough of the way you write him my heart is in a FRENZY <33333

AWEEE THANK U FOR SENDING THIS IN <33 i’m glad you like it so much!! merman bkg my BELOVED i always want more fics for him but i’ve only seen like. 2 rly long ones out in the fanficverse. we need MORE!! the people are starving!!

admittedly it was lowkey rough thinking abt how he’d react to certain things. there were actions i wanted reader to take and ways i wanted bkg to react but i couldnt add them in bc it was just too early in their relationship yk? like. for instance, i wanted to add in a part where reader would towel off his hair for him so tht the water from it wouldnt drip onto the sketchbook but bkg would NEVER allow that and it seemed to early to let that happen. thats okay tho there will be other opportunities in the future✨✨

i am SUCH a sucker for small details so it makes me happy that you noticed them!! i wrote in that pencil bit after i did the doodle of the sketchbook at the end of the chapter so i was like ah yes, rough harsh lines and angles. it suits him anyways.

i did a lot of research for this fic in general LOL i wanted it to seem as legit as possible. admittedly some of the scuba diving details will probably not be all too accurate but the reefs and the experiment stuff should! i love the ocean and i did take a few classes that helped out with some of the more sciencey details!

i’d been writing bkg fic since 2018 so id hope that his characterization would be spot on LOL sometimes i go back to my older works and im like… ew i wrote that? but i definitely feel like i have a more solid grasp of him now LMAO merbaku with his pretty face and scarred arms 😌✨ i lov he

but yes thank you for sending this in!! im rly rly happy you enjoyed the first chapter so much!!! it only gets better from here!! 💞💞

#a nonny mouse #makes my heart go 🐬🐋🐬🐋🐬🐋#sipping tea with shay

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pop-punklouis · 1 year

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Hi babe 💗

(I'm answering both of yours in this one) it's fine! I figured you'd be resting up from the trip, I just wanted you to have a message anyways! I hope you managed to get in some nice relaxed time.

Oh yes. We form a good chunk of ourselves when we're young through observation. You grow up and you can see the ways in which you often mirror your parents, it's crazy.

I get that though. Somedays when I wanna read I get through like a few pages and I fall asleep. Or I'm just not in the mental space to read even though reading is my absolute fav thing to do. Maybe you'll find a better time to read if you wanted to, someday, y'know?

Ahhh okay this is a reminder to send pictures of your cats! One of them is a Persian-angora mix and the other is a lil tuxedo cat. They are lowkey enemies even though it's much better than it used to be but you're never gonna catch them becoming friends :((

Stop I love supernatural/paranormal stuff! It's endlessly fascinating to me and I honestly should be delving into it deeper but I often feel like I've too many things I wanna do and too little time. Those are all such cool interests! Umm I love love love psychology. Quite passionate about writing, I suppose. Spirituality. Ooh and space!!

Second ask: thank youuu I mostly just plan on pulling my fic together and maybe reading!

Ahh I've always wanted to play the guitar! Even had bought one but never got around to it rip. Cross stitching, that's pretty cool!! Used to cross stitch a tiny bit. And I kinda wish I had gotten like, art classes of some sort bc I do paint but I've zero training and I'd love some. If I could sketch?? I'd be untouchable. And learning any musical instrument really.

Today's question: what is a very fond memory of yours?

Have a wonderful day love xx

~🌱

HIIIII i just woke up. i pulled an all nighter last night to finish some orders for my shop so i didn’t go to sleep until 5 AM 💀

but! yes, fic used to be a big part of my fandom experience when i was younger so i miss it sometimes yk the nostalgia of it all. wishing you all the best with pulling your fic together 🤍🥺

both of my indoor cats are enemies so i completely get that dynamic lmao but my younger cat likes to bully my older cat more than anything else rip your cats sound so pretty though 💕 here are mine as promised!! (elvis, jagger, dorian, keanu) 🌼

i’m so glad we share that same love for the supernatural/paranormal. it’s just an endless pit of knowledge and intrigue. i can never get enough of it. oooo psychology is a good one. if i had taken one more psych course in undergrad i would’ve minored in psychology which is funny bc all i did was take those classes as electives bc i was interested in them. what’s your favorite interest in psychology? criminal psychology and abnormal psychology are two of mine 👁 and spiritually and space!!!!! yes i also love both of those as well. i used to be a huge space buff when i was younger ✨

playing an instrument takes so much dedication and motivation. two things i did not have growing up lmao i love that you bought a guitar but never played it. very big me energy djdkdkd i had to sell my keyboard bc of the same exact reason years ago. painting would be a dream to be talented in. any type of art actually, but yeah painting would be super cool. the power one holds with a paintbrush astonishes me sometimes ❤️‍🩹

hmmm i think one of my fondest memories is when i went to my first concert. 10 years old going to see hannah montana and the jonas brothers. it’s what turned me on to music and live music as a whole. never stopped breathing it since then 👐🏼 how about you? what’s one of your fondest memories? x

hope you have a great tuesday, love!! 🔮

#holiday pal 1 #grey

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slytherweasley · 3 years

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Sketches (Dean Thomas x reader)

Warnings: smut- unprotected sex, penetration swearing

Summary: Dean sees y/n sketching in one of his favourite spots in fourth year, he approaches y/n and they sketch together. In the present day, Dean gets back from a quidditch match and just wants a night with y/n instead of partying.

The first time Dean realised you were special was in your fourth year, he had his sketch book and got to his favourite sketching spot and you were there. You had your sketch pad sketching the area around you.

“Y/n?” Dean sits beside you “Oh, Dean! Hi” you smile “You sketch?” “Yeah, I keep them to myself, they’re not as good as the ones I’ve seen of yours” “Thank you” he smiles “Do you mind if I sit beside you? This is my favourite spot” “Please do, it’s my favourite spot too.”

You both sit and talk sketching the same surroundings. “I can’t believe we weren’t better friends before this” he says “I know it’s quite strange. We have similar friends but never became good friends.”

At the end you showed each other your sketches, it was interesting to look at how someone else interprets their surroundings compared to you. “Dean I love your so much” “Yours is just perfect, I can’t believe how good you are” “I guess I have a sketching buddy then” “Definitely.”

You and Dean would go different places around Hogwarts and sketch together, you’d always end up at your favourite spot. You became such good friends, you started to hang out after you did your sketches together.

It took him a year of friendship to ask you to be his girlfriend.

He met you at your favourite spot to sketch again, this time he had gathered a collection of sketches he’d done of you at random times of the year you spent together. After you sketches he gave you the sketches of yourself.

“Dean oh my Godric this is so kind” “You’re my muse, Y/n. I was wondering if you’d be my girlfriend?” Your cheeks blush pink “Yes, I’d love that” you lean in to kiss him.

Dean would always call you his muse, he told you his favourite thing to sketch was you.

You’ve both started your sixth year this year, Dean is a chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team. You were so proud of him for getting that position, he was hesitant to try out in fear of not being good.

You and Dean were cuddled up in his bed the night before tryouts. “Seamus is also trying out, he’s been playing quidditch before I even knew I was a wizard. Most people have had years on me” “You might not have played Quidditch but I’ve seen you ride a broom and you’re quick, so much better than Seamus. You also played football, you’re just good at sports, I believe in you.” You press your lips to his “Ok, I’ll do it” you smile “You’re going to do great.”

He was so happy when he got the position as chaser and you were so happy for him. Since then you went to every single game he played.

You kiss Dean quickly before he leaves for the Quidditch game “Good luck! I love you” “I love you more” he runs off with the rest of his team mates. You and Hermione support the Gryffindor team together against Slytherin. Gryffindor won and everyone was so excited.

At dinner the Gryffindor table is booming with chatter. Your arm is wrapped tightly around Dean “I want to celebrate with just you tonight, I don’t feel in the mood to go to a party” he says “Of course.”

You and Dean slipped past everyone celebrating and got into his warm dormitory. You and Dean get changed into something more comfortable. Dean gives you his hoodie and sweatpants.

You slip out of your Gryffindor jersey with Dean’s number and name on the back. You turn away from Dean. He comes behind you and wraps his arms around your waist and kisses your bare shoulder. He sucks on your neck leaving a love bite. Your breathing becomes heavier as he unbuttons your jeans, you step out of them leaving you in your underwear.

His hand rubs your inner thigh, he notices your breathing become louder and heavier. “Are you okay, darling?” He asks softly “Uh yeah” “Do you want me to stop?” “N-no” “Relax, I got you.”

His body is still pressed up against your back, his hand travels to your stomach rubbing up and down before slowly moving the tips of his fingers into your underwear.

Your heart rate fastened as he dipped a finger into your folds, you were so wet and he could feel it. He doesn’t do anything “You want me to stop?” He asks again “No, keep going please.”

He uses a single finger to spread your wetness around your folds, he circles your clit gently and slowly. You inhale sharply at the feel of his fingers touching your clit. He presses a kiss to your shoulder again comforting you.

You knew for sure you wanted to lose your virginity to Dean.

You let out a small moan making your knees go weak. With his free hand he moves it to your back un clasping your bra with one hand. You get out of it and it falls to the ground, his other hand massages your breasts, he also pays attention to your nipples. You whimper at the feeling.

He pulls down your underwear, you wriggle out of them standing naked, you were almost too scared to turn around to show him your naked body. You hear him undoing his pants and you turn around, he looks up from undoing his pants to admiring your body.

“Godric, you’re so beautiful Y/n” you play with your hair nervously as he get out of his pants “Get on the bed” he says, you get onto the bed and wait for him. He pulls his underwear down stroking himself a few times. Your breathing becomes much heavier and your heart races.

“Are you okay darling?” “Just a bit nervous” “I promise I’ll make it as pleasurable as I can.”

He lines himself up with your entrance and slowly pushes the tip inside you, it felt alright until he kept pushing himself in, it didn’t hurt just felt uncomfortable. “Dean?” You say softly “Yes darling” “Can I please hold your hand?” “Yes” he smiles and gives you his hand to hold “Squeeze as tight as you need.”

He continues slowly pushing himself in until he’s fully into you, you could tell Dean was trying hard to go slow. “Thank you” you almost whisper “I love you.”

After a while it felt alright and you let him go at whatever pace he liked. You still held onto his hand, he pushed his weight onto his arms and hovered his face above yours while keeping the pace.

He let out small groans of pleasure, he speeds up a bit, you feel him hit your g spot inside you, “Shit” you moan and he continues hitting the same spot inside you. “Feel good baby?” “Mmhmm” you nod, he kisses your lips, you both moan against each other’s lips.

You break away from the kiss “I feel it in my stomach” you tell him “Good girl, let it go” you take deep breaths staring up at Dean and let it go. You finish around him, Dean lets out a moan as you involuntarily clench around him as you finish.

“Fuck” he moans so close “Please cum inside me, Dean” you tell him “Ah shit, I’m about to” you feel Dean finish inside you. He pulls out and cleans you up. You sit up feeling numb “Did you like it, Y/n?” Dean asks “Yeah, it was so much better than I could have asked for, thank you. Did you enjoy it?” You ask him “So much, I am glad I waited to lose it with you” “Me too” you smile.

Dean grabs you his hoodie you were going to wear before everything happened and helped you put it on. He grabs you a pair of his boxers for you to wear and the two of you cuddled until you fell asleep together.

Everyone coming back from the party were talking loudly, it woke up Dean but luckily didn’t wake you up. “Shut up” Dean tells his dorm mates “Where were you mate?” Seamus asks “Here with Y/n” Ron chuckles “I know what they were doing up here” Ron kicks your underwear across the floor “No way” Neville says.

“Please shush, she’s asleep” the boys laugh “Knocked out after a long night huh?” “Looks like you’re next Neville” Seamus says.

You slightly open your eyes at the commotion in the room. You sit up, Dean turns his head to you “Sorry sweetheart, go back to sleep” he wraps his arms around you and kisses your forehead.

Dean cuddles you rubbing your back trying to get you back to sleep.

#harry potter #smut #hp imagine #dean thomas #dean thomas x reader #dean thomas smut #dean thomas imagine #dean thomas fanfiction #dean thomas x you #dean thomas x y/n #dean thomas x female reader #dean thomas x fem!reader

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mssirey · 3 years

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Some agentreign, with a tattoo artist Alex!

Alex knew the roughly sketched symbol, of course. How could she not recognize the insignia of the character her sister played on her show—the campy series with its sometimes shallow commentary or ham-fisted allegories of the world, but that left enough room for interpretation that lent to a beloved view of its main cast.

When Alex glanced up at the woman who had booked her afternoon slot, there seemed nothing outwardly fan-ish about her—her aesthetic one of corporate power, her blazer a sharp cut from a designer Alex couldn’t be bothered to know the name of, her palette choices bold, but smart—not someone she would have read as having much time for fun. But then, Kara was much the same, and she knew better about how deeply her sister loved being a part of a show about superheroes.

“My daughter really loves the show,” the woman offered with a little wave of her hand at the drawing, a jittery air around her, as if she anticipated the judgment she might face, “and Supergirl is her favorite character, of course!” She laughed, a short puff exhaled as her shoulders sagged and her hand returned to ring together with her other. “She said I was her Supergirl the other day, and if you knew how much she loves the character—“

Alex stopped her then, a gentle smile touching her lips. “That is a beautiful base for a tattoo,” she assured. She stepped forward, reached out without thinking, hand covering the nervous twist of fingers, warm against her palm. That close, she realized how tall the woman was—especially as her shoulders pulled back and she straightened up just a little.

Alex almost withdrew her hand as the woman’s teeth clacked sharply together. She watched lashes flutter over warm chocolate eyes as they dropped to where their hands touched, lingering while their breath was held as one.

“Wow— ” one hand pulled free of hers, Alex’s stomach ready to turn, only for fingers to run so gingerly over her own skin—from wrist up her forearm—drawing her gaze down to the full sleeve of ink that she had poured her own heart into, disappearing beneath the once-tidy cuff of her shirt, since stained with the efforts of the day. “Your tattoos are… so…” she had heard all manner of words to describe the art she wore—everything from ‘intense’ to ‘troubling’—rarely a favorable opinion coming from someone who wasn’t an enthusiast, “catching.”

Alex swallowed as those fingers traced a line of color, meant to accentuate the form of the figures at the center of the design—both a representation of herself, stood back to back; one stripped down to blood and bone; the other painted in an unnatural light, too ‘perfect’, meeting all the expectations placed on her, shackles on her wrists and chains weighing down her shoulders.

“I designed it myself,” she said the first thing to come to mind, her eyes almost rolling at her own lack of wit.

“I really like it,” the woman commented before seeming to realize how long she had been touching Alex, her hand jerking upward, a marvelous warmth reaching her cheeks.

They parted, a full pace put between them by the time Alex found the breath to offer her thanks.

“So, um, did you just want the insignia?” Alex held up the sketch to bring them back to business.

The woman faltered, a plea writing itself into her expression. “Well, um, so, you might be able to tell, but I’m not much of an artist,” she exhaled, a laugh bubbling up after, plucking at the chords of Alex’s heart. “I know I want to use the symbol, but I… I don’t know what else to include.”

Alex chuckled along with her. “That’s alright,” she assured. “Come on, let me stretch a few ideas for you,” she waved for the woman to follow her, leading them to her drawing table. The sigh of relief she heard tickled up her spine, and she had to resist shivering.

Drawing on little bits of knowledge she had picked up from Kara, Alex started with a simple base, offering the traditional symbol along with a few alternate designs—some softer, some sharper, some with broken or doubled lines to add a bit of extra dimension—before getting into a range of accenting options.

The woman was vocal with her thoughts as she looked over Alex’s shoulder, humming approving notes when something stood out to her, or commenting on the touches she liked, allowing Alex to easily evolve the piece. There was particular interest when she mentioned the phrase ‘el mayarah’ and explained its meaning.

“Oh! Ruby has definitely said that before,” she gushed, the happy little sigh that accompanied the words tugging at the corners of Alex’s lips, her grin so effortless. “We should definitely include that!”

It wasn’t long before they had a final design— staying true to the show’s version of the insignia and incorporating both ‘el mayarah’ and the script of the language used by Supergirl, wreathed by a flowy, cape-like backing.

“This will likely take two visits— one for the linework and base coat, and then another for the detailing. Is that okay?” She certainly wouldn’t be sad to see the woman again and grinned when she agreed. “You said you were hoping to have this on your back,” Alex prompted as she led the woman to her station.

“Over my heart, yeah,” she confirmed.

“I really like it,” Alex echoed the words spoken to her, and she genuinely meant it. She loved the way the woman talked about her daughter, how every word ran deep with love, how cherished the little girl was.

“Is there anything I should know... going in?” There was a surge of nervousness buzzing in the air as the woman shrugged out of her jacket, folding it neatly over the chair at Alex’s desk.

There was a moment—as Alex watched buttons slipping free of their holes—that she forgot herself, staring longer than might have been polite before she busied herself with putting on her gloves and arranging her inks. “Mostly that when I’m over your ribs, you will feel it,” she sucked in a sympathetic breath. “But, I’ll be gentle, and you can always take a break, if you need.”

She waved the woman toward the chair, turning away as she divested her bra and slid into place against the padding.

“Comfortable?” She got only a nod before she pulled up her own stool. “Relax,” she coaxed, placing a gentle hand on the woman’s back. “I’ll take good care of you and you can swear all you like.”

“Glad to know it.”

As Alex had warned, the woman did feel it. Her breath hissed through her teeth, a sharp inhale that tugged at her, but then she relaxed beneath Alex’s hand. “Good girl.” The words slipped out before she could think to question them, and her own breath caught in her lungs, her gun lifting away from the woman’s skin. There was a soft shiver and then stillness, the barest whimper bubbling out of the woman.

Alex could have perished. The woman was so pliant beneath her, and it took everything to concentrate on the design. But she leaned into that soft praise, continued to encourage her to stay loose, and things went very well—hardly needing to hold the woman still and working straight through without a break. And in the end, she did manage to finish the whole piece, running only slightly overtime.

There was a little disappointment knowing that she likely wouldn’t see the woman again. “If you need any touch-ups, you can always reach out,” she offered.

“Thank you,” the woman said as she gingerly slipped back into her jacket. She bent over Alex’s desk, scribbling something down on the sketchpad with all the trial drawings. “Maybe we could get dinner some time,” she nodded down at the page, where her number was scrawled.

“I’d like that,” Alex grinned, excitement blooming in her chest. The woman’s name was also there on the page. “Then, I’ll see you later, Sam.”

“I look forward to it, Alex.” The sentiment echoed through her for days, accompanied with the image of Sam’s haughty little smirk.

#tattooed!alex #tattoo artist alex #agentreign #danvarias #alex danvers #sam arias #mssirey #my writing

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cower-before-power · 3 years

Text

Naked Attraction

Summary: A typical day in your art class turn into anything but when you’re introduced to your nude model for the week- a devastatingly gorgeous man named Levi.

Pairing: Modern AU Levi Ackerman x F!Reader

TW: Nudity, swearing, suggestive content, age gap (reader is 20, Levi is 30), dick jokes, reader is thirsty and lewds Levi hard, perhaps poorly written stuff about art and drawing because I literally know nothing haha

(minors please do not interact, just to be safe)

Link to A03 here

A/N: Hello all! This is my entry for @ghost-party’s Meet Cute Collab with my darling husband Levi. I’ve never written for him before so I was a little nervous haha, I hope I did him justice! Thank you to everyone who reads, likes, comments, and reblogs- you are all wonderful and I appreciate your support! I hope you enjoy, my sweet potatoes!

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“Morning,” Jean greets you with a crooked smile and a steaming cup of coffee. It’s the good stuff from the café by his apartment, your favourite thing to help your brain shift into creative mode. “You’re later than usual.”

You grab the cup from him, sighing as you feel the warmth bleed into your hands. “Overslept. Barely had time to get dressed and brush my teeth.”

Jean’s eyes rove over you as you sink into your chair, humming to yourself as you sip on your drink. “I can see. Do you know you’re wearing two different shoes? And I think your sweater is on inside out. Why do you still even have that ugly thing anyways?”

“Thank you for your comments,” you roll your eyes. “I know I look like a hot mess and I don’t need any words from you, Mr. I Asked The Nude Model Out And Got Shot Down.”

Jean’s ears turn red, and he shoots you a dirty look before busying himself with arranging his pencils. “Shut up.”

You snicker to yourself as you set up your own area. Last week’s model had been a soft, pretty brunette that had instantly made Jean all starry-eyed, like a teenage boy with his first crush. It was generally considered a bit taboo to ask out the nude models, but he’d thrown that aside and gone for the kill after she’d slid back into her clothes. She’d laughed and patted his cheek like he was a naughty child asking for candy before dinner. Then proceeded to walk out and climb onto the back of her boyfriend’s motorcycle (but not before making out with said boyfriend for a good 5 minutes, minimum).

Jean had been left with red cheeks and no date, and you’d been left with great blackmail material.

“I wonder who will be our victim today,” you decide to take mercy on your poor friend and change the subject. “Most likely a guy, since we had a woman last week.”

“We’ll know in about 5 minutes,” Jean looks up at the clock on the wall. “Old Cueball is never late.”

Sure enough, in exactly 5 minutes your very bald and very punctual professor casually strolls through the door. A short man in a green coat is following him, presumably your newest subject. You crane your neck, trying to get a better look at his face, but all you can see is dark hair falling like a curtain over pale skin.

“Good morning class,” Professor Pyxis greets you, tossing his briefcase down on his desk with his usual nonchalant air. “I see you are all ready, so let’s get right to it.” He gestures to the person beside him. “This is Mr. Levi Ackerman. He’s your model for the week.”

The class murmurs in curiosity as the mentioned Levi Ackerman turns to face the room.

You swear your heart actually skips a beat.

Steel gray eyes observe the room from a face that practically begs to be immortalized through art. Every line is hard and strong, covered in clear skin that looks like it would slide under your fingers like the smoothest silk. Your eyes drink in his features greedily, from the regal bridge of his nose to the proud edge of his jaw. You decide your favorite thing though, is his cheeks. They are utterly cherubic, round and full and dusted ever so lightly with the lightest shade of pink.

He’s possibly the prettiest man you have ever seen.

“Hey, I know him,” Jean whispers, cutting off your entranced thoughts. “That’s Mikasa’s distant cousin, the one I told you she found on Ancestry.com last year. I’ve met him once, he’s got a stick so far up his butt, he’d need surgery to remove it. Never would have pegged him for the type to do this sort of thing.”

You vaguely remember a previous conversation involving Jean’s childhood friend and some long lost relatives.

“He doesn’t look that uptight,” you muse, too busy admiring the way his lips glint temptingly under the fluorescents to really process Jean’s words. “He’s beautiful, like something out of a Renaissance painting.”

Jean opens his mouth to reply, but Pyxis begins to speak.

“As usual, draw whichever side of him is facing you, all angles will be graded equally,” your professor plops himself down in his chair, already scrolling through his phone to find the playlist for the day. “Completed drawings to be submitted to me by the end of class on Friday. Please remember be respectful and courteous to our guest. Mr. Ackerman, whenever you’re ready.”

The man nods to your professor, already slipping out of his coat as he steps up onto the platform in the center of the room. You watch, mesmerized, as he proceeds to shed himself of his clothes. It’s rigid and methodical (he folds his clothes like he’s worked his whole life in a department store), but somehow oddly endearing. Every inch of his body that is revealed is consumed eagerly by your shameless stare, and you sincerely hope you don’t start drooling. By the time he carefully removes his final items, you feel like you are vibrating in your seat.

Holy fucking shit, he’s built like a god. Like Michelangelo himself carved him out of a block of the most pristine marble. You trace your gaze down the column of his throat, over the strong shoulders and sinewy arms, the impressive set of abs, the thighs that look like they could crush your head and you’d be nothing but happy about it. It takes a minute before you’re able to make yourself look between his thighs, and when you finally do, you have to looks away immediately. Good grief, even that is stupidly handsome. You can’t help but wonder if it would feel as nice as it looks.

Your face heats from your lewd thoughts, and you grip your pencil so hard it almost snaps. Beside you, Jean snickers.

“You okay over there? It looks like you’re about to explode.”

“Can it,” you hiss, glad that the ambient music Pyxis chose will probably keep your conversation private. “I can’t help it that I’m looking at the most gorgeous dick attached to the most gorgeous man I think I’ve ever seen.”

“You haven’t seen mine.”

“I don’t own a microscope.”

“Ooooh, see if I buy you coffee tomorrow, bitch.”

You stick your tongue out at him before turning back to your easel. As you move, you catch the gaze of Levi, his expression unreadable. Warmth creeps up the back of you neck, and you duck behind your sketchpad in embarrassment. You seriously hope he didn’t hear you, he’d probably report you to Pyxis for being creepy. You decide to lock all your stupid horny thoughts deep within the recesses of your mind, and take a few deep breaths to clear your head.

It works, and as you touch pencil to paper, the desire to create overflows inside of you.

Unsurprisingly, you become utterly engrossed in your work, your pencil sweeping over the pad with almost a mind of it’s own. Levi is the perfect model; you swear he’s not even breathing as he majestically hold his pose without even a quiver. The contours of his body spring to life on the page, and you can’t stop the joyful smile that blooms on your lips as you work. It’s times like these, when everything is so perfect, that you truly realize just how much you love making art.

Before you know it, Pyxis announces class is over, and you’ll resume with Levi tomorrow. The man of the hour begins to re-dress as your fellow classmates pack up their supplies and file out. You absent mindedly wave to Jean, who is practically sprinting out the door so he can make his next class all the way across campus. You’re still engrossed in your drawing, staring at it with critical eyes. It good, one of the best starts you’ve had all year, but now that the high of creating has worn off, you can see where you need to improve.

“You’re very good.”

You gasp and jump, whirling around to find Levi standing behind you, eyes fixed on your sketch. How did he even get there? You hadn’t seen him or heard him.

“Oh, uh, Mr Ackerman!” You squeak, your heart racing like you’ve just run a marathon. “T-that’s very nice, I mean, thank- thank you very much!”

“It’s Levi,” your muse says, seemingly unbothered by your stammering. “Yours is going to be the best one here.”

You blink stupidly at his bold statement. “Did you look at all of them?”

“No,” Levi’s voice is firm, a tone that brokers no argument. “But you had the most joy on your face while you worked. That much passion doesn’t churn out stuff that looks like shit.”

“Oh, that’s only because you are such a great model,” you gush, insides turning warm at his praise. “You stayed so still and you looked so damn regal and you’re just so pretty and-” Your eyes go wide as you realize the absolute words vomit leaving your mouth, mortification slithering up your spine.

“I’m pretty?” Levi raises an eyebrow. “You think I’m pretty?”

“No!” You shout, and the man’s other eyebrow joins the first. “No wait, yes! I mean, fuck, I mean you are probably the most handsome man I’ve ever seen!”

Levi’s eyebrows have now practically become one with his hairline. You wring your hands, wishing the floor would just open up and swallow you. “I-well- come on, people must tell you how good looking you are! I can’t be the first.”

“No, but you certainly are the most enthusiastic about it,” Levi deadpans.

Oh, someone just put you out of your misery now.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, cringing internally at your complete ineptitude to hold a conversation with an attractive man. “I....get carried away sometimes.”

“It’s fine,” Levi’s stoic expression softens just a little. “It’s kind of nice to hear, actually. Usually I’m told I’m good looking, but ‘far too short’.”

“That’s bullshit.” you say vehemently, honestly shocked people would deny this man his godhood over something as trivial as height. “Who cares if you’re shorter? It doesn’t detract from you. What’s that phrase again? Good things come in small packages? Well, not that you’re small, I’m not saying that, I just meant-”

“Yes, you did seem to find my package....good,” Levi interrupts, and you swear you see the corners of his lips twitch upwards.

Your eyes widen in horror as your brain replays your hushed conversation with Jean. “You heard that?!”

“I’m told I have exceptionally good hearing.”

“Oh fuck me,” you groan, burying your face in your hands. “I am literally so, so, sorry. That was completely out of line. I have no excuse other than it’s clearly been too long since I’ve gotten some, but that’s no reason to make you uncomfortable. Please, if there’s anything I can do to to make it up to you, I’ll do it!”

“Have tea with me.””

Your head shoots up, surprise coloring your features. “What?”

“Tch, you heard me,” Levi tuts, reaching into his coat pocket and pulling out his phone. “I haven’t got free time till Saturday-stupid Shitty Glasses wanting to trade shifts-but if you want to go out, give me your number and we can work out the details.”

You stare at him with your mouth open, unsure if this is really happening or you’re vividly daydreaming again.

“Umm, are you sure?” You ask, wondering if you should pinch yourself to see if you are indeed imagining things. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m wearing two different shoes and my sweater is inside out. Believe me when I say these sorts of fashion statements happen more often than not. Plus, I practically salivated over you like some sort of horny middle aged suburban housewife who hasn’t been laid in years.” You pause to take a breath, once again unable to stop the words from spewing forth like a fountain. “And I’m so awkward! I mean, are you comfortable in this conversation? And I can’t stop talking once I’ve gotten going, and I say the weirdest shit, and, and-”

“I like you,” he says simply, as if he’s just declared something as obvious as 1+1=2. “I couldn’t give a flying fuck about all the stuff you just said, you’re just... you, and I like it. So, do you want to go on a date or not?”

“O-oh,” you suddenly feel shy, your tummy filling with butterflies at the look of sincerity on his handsome face. You’d never met anyone quite like Levi Ackerman before, and you weren’t about to pass up the opportunity to get to know the man behind the drool-worthy muscles. “Uh, yes, please, I would like that. Very much.”

An almost relieved expression crosses Levi’s face, and he hands you his phone to type in your number. You notice the time as you do so, and sigh sadly as you hand him his device back.

“Well I better go,” you say reluctantly, suddenly fervently wishing it was Saturday already. “I’ve got another class in 15 minutes.”

“I’ll walk you there,” Levi says briskly, slipping his phone back into his coat. “To make sure you get there safely. Someone might murder you on account of their eyes being assaulted by that garish sweater. ” The corners of his lips twitch upwards once again, and you grow warm all over, from both his gentle teasing and the knowledge he isn’t quite ready to say goodbye yet either.

“Excuse me, I thought you said you didn’t give a ‘flying fuck’ about my attire,” you huff, but you’re grinning as you quickly pack up your bag.

“I don’t care it’s inside out, but you have to know that is the ugliest fucking color know to man,” Levi says, holding out his hand. Your brain malfunctions slightly for a moment, until you realize he’s offering to carry your bag for you. The butterflies inside you whip themselves into a frenzy as you pass him your stuff, your hand just grazing over his. Handsome, funny, honest, and sweet? How is this guy even real?

“I’ll have you know, this sweater is an absolute delight. When it’s inside right,” you stick up your nose, but unable to stop he laugh that slips past your lips.

Levi rolls his eyes in an almost playful manner. “Doubtful .”

You’re not sure where it comes from, but a sudden rush of confidence fills you. “If you’re so offended by it, maybe you should just rip it off of me.”

The tips of Levi’s ears turn a delightful shade of pink. You’re sure your own skin is hot enough to cook an egg on.

“Wear it Saturday then,” Levi’s ears may be flushed, but his eyes flash with something that makes your spine tingle. The insinuation of his words has your gut clenching and your mind whispering fervent prayers to please please please make Saturday get here faster, I don’t ask for much, please!

“Only if you wear your modeling outfit,” you manage to say, trying your best to sound coy when you feel like you might combust into a pile of lust and giddiness. “I’ve never seen someone wear it so well, and I want a closer look.”

If possible, Levi’s eyes grow even darker, and you just know Saturday is going to be one of the best damn days of your entire life.

“Deal.”

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Taglist: @clovertitan @millenialfanfictionaddiction @stigandr-the-cat @axoxtxhxh @bowandcurtsey @chaotic-nick @manjiroarchiviste

#meet cute collab #levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman imagine #levi x reader #attack on titan #attack on titan x reader #shingeki no kyojin #shingeki no kyojin x reader

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therealvalkyrie · 3 years

Text

Painter’s Hands and Guatemalan Coffee: Part 6

sketch

Pairing/setting: Levi Ackerman x Female!Reader, modern!college!AU

Summary: When you catch your idiot boyfriend cheating, your grumpy roommate is there to pick up the pieces and watch your back as you toe a carefully drawn line in the metaphorical sand.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: fluff, romantic vegetable chopping, the chapter of realizing things

AN: Well, it’s been six fucking months, but it’s finally here!! It’s a little shorter than I’d prefer, and took a lot of iterations to get here, but I’m very satisfied:) Thanks, as always, to my lovely @doinmybesthere for editing and encouraging. I hope you all enjoy! I think there’re maybe 1 or 2 parts left in this story, that’ll hopefully be out more quickly than I managed this one. Please let me know what you think! Be kind to yourselves and others. ~valkyrie

—

(read chapter 5 here)

Finals week passes in a slow blur, barely leaving enough time for you to breathe between essays, exams, and one presentation that you think takes at least a year off the end of your life. It’s much the same for everyone else, as well — you barely see Levi, not counting the nights you spend alternating between your bed and his, and you don’t see Hange at all. Consequently, there’s no opportunity to break apart what happened on Saturday. No chance to peel back its layers and find how you really feel. Although, to her credit, Annie doesn’t appear again, so you’re able to shove it into a corner of your mind for the time being.

Saturday brings with it both a new winter storm and an overwhelming sense of relief. You let it fill you completely as you sit and watch snow swirl outside. The street below your kitchen window is bustling with students trying to outrun the storm to get home for vacation. But you have nowhere to be, nothing to do. It’s nice.

The door opens, bringing with it the stomping of Levi’s boots. You turn to watch him shake snow from his hair, sinking deeper into the reassurance of knowing that everything you need is here under your roof. Safe.

Hmm. What the fuck?

You choke on the next sip of your tea as the realization of what you just felt hits you square in the chest. Through your coughing and hacking, you reach again for that fleeting sense of home. Childish, content, warm.

“Are you okay?” Levi calls from the entrance, looking at you with pinched brows halfway through hanging up his jacket.

“Fine,” you cough out, pushing back from the table to hunch over and catch your breath. “I’m okay.”

It takes a moment for you to stop breathing hard, though when you do, your heart rate doesn’t return to normal, instead pushing blood to your face and neck and making your body feel light. Levi doesn’t help when he finally joins you in the kitchen, all floppy hair and bright cheeks from the snow. All leisurely about the way he stretches his lean body to take his favorite blend of Earl Grey from the top of the fridge.

“I was thinking about dinner,” he starts, completely oblivious to the way you’ve started sweating under your cardigan. “We shouldn’t order because of the snow, so I brought home stuff to make soup.”

“What kind?” It’s a miracle the words come out normally.

“Chicken noodle.” He turns to face you. “My mom’s recipe.”

—

“I don’t get why guys are always so uppity about kitchen knives,” you say, picking up what Levi’s told you is a utility knife. “Like, it’s just a knife. I’m not about to stab myself with it.” Your finger drags along its sharp edge for only a split second when Levi’s slim fingers are suddenly around your wrist.

“Don’t. Touch. The knives,” he growls, taking the utility knife gently from your other hand and placing it back on the counter. “I just sharpened them last week, you could’ve seriously cut yourself.”

His steel eyes hold yours for another long moment until you nod your head mutely. You haven’t been able to shake the knot of hyperawareness that’s been settled in your belly since your what the fuck moment, and it only twists tighter when he’s so close to you. His hair is dry now, curling slightly because he hasn’t bothered to comb it since he got home. You have to actively resist the urge to twist a particularly enthusiastic curl around your finger in the split second before he backs away again.

Muttering under his breath, he returns to the simmering pot on the stove that he claims has turned into stock, though you hardly believe it. Growing up, you’d never been taught kitchen skills, let alone anything close to actual labor.

For a while, you’re content to watch, sitting at the table and nursing both the ache in your chest and a fresh cup of chamomile, but the urge to join him in his quiet work overwhelms you as he’s washing the vegetables.

“Levi, please, can I help?” Your tone edges on whining, prompting him to huff and shift on his feet. “I promise I won’t touch the knives! There, just, must be something I can do.”

You see him roll his eyes, swear under his breath, then turn towards you with a glower.

“No talking, no questions, and go wash your hands.”

“Yes!” you cheer and stand up with a bounce.

The scent of the bar of soap as you lather and wash cuts pleasantly through the spices and thick scents already filling the kitchen. It’s not something you’ve experienced often, and you relish in what you realize must be home comfort, your grin settling from enthused to contented.

Levi is arranging carrots, celery, and onions next to the cutting board when you join him again.

“I thought I wasn’t allowed to touch the knives?”

“You’re not, until I show you how to do it without chopping off your fingers.”

“Oh, ye of little faith,” you tease, but nevertheless settle in beside him to watch as he lines up a carrot and picks up the utility knife.

“We’re generally going for even pieces, though it doesn’t matter much because it’s a soup. Put your fingers like this,” you lean over a bit to see how he’s arranged his left hand holding the carrot, the tips of his fingers just barely tucked under the knuckles, “so that you can chop like this—“ he begins slicing, knife guided by his knuckles “—and not lose your fingers. Always point the blade away from yourself and others, and never hold the handle like you’re going to stab something. That’s not effective, anyway. If you have to use this as a weapon, it’s much more effective to slash rather than stab, considering bone density—“

“Uhh,” you cut in, “pause. Are we slicing carrots or fending off home invaders?”

He stops chopping. “What did I say about asking questions?”

“Right. Sorry.”

“Anyway. Considering bone density, you’ll have better luck aiming to cut big veins than forcing through ribs.”

He’s done with the first carrot, now, lithe fingers flipping the knife so the blade is up.

“Never drag the blade along the surface sideways. Flip it over and use the blunt edge to move food.” He demonstrates, moving the little pile of carrot slices to a corner of the cutting board. “Your turn.”

And then, like it’s nothing, he’s offering you the handle with a flat expression.

“Uhm.” You press your lips together and eye it for a long pause. “Are you sure?”

“It’s just a carrot. You’ll be fine.” He lets another unsure moment slide into being, then sighs and reaches out to wrap your hand around the handle. “Here, like this.”

And like you’ve suddenly stepped into a poorly-written romcom, he’s guiding your hands under his to the next waiting carrot, curling your fingers exactly like he showed you before, and scooting over to let you stand in his place. You just let yourself go along with it, hoping desperately that he won’t feel your hands grow clammy or see the way your chin has tucked itself shyly to your chest so you can watch.

Fucking shit carrots, useless goddamn root vegetable, can’t chop itself, has to make me do all the work—

Your aggressive inner monologue takes you all the way through the second carrot, then his hands are leaving yours and he’s placing a third under your waiting blade. Time to fly solo.

—

When you fall asleep in the armchair that night, sated and full of comfort food, Levi sketches in pencil on scrap paper. He sketches his hands over yours in the kitchen and he sketches the steam rising from the pot on the stove. He sketches you sitting with a bowl of soup in your lap, face illuminated by the TV and he sketches your sleeping body curled up, hair in your mouth. He sketches a close-up of your face, with special attention to the curve of your bottom lip, and he considers it practice for finishing the painting in his room.

Levi doesn’t think about how if he doesn’t do something soon, all of this will change. About how you’ll get over your heartbreak and move out at the end of the year and he won’t see you every day and every night. And he definitely doesn’t think about how he’ll have to adjust back to sleeping without your soft body tangled in his, and he doesn’t wonder how he ever slept before you.

No, instead of thinking, he just cracks his knuckles and gently scoops you from the chair and into his arms.

It’s as he’s climbing into his side of your bed that you stir and snort and blink sleepy eyes open.

“What time is it?”

“Ten forty,” he whispers, “go back to sleep.”

You hum and turn on your side to face him, face half hidden by the squish of your pillow. He settles more comfortably in, tucks your head under his chin even though you’re taller than he is, and drapes his free arm around the curve of your waist.

Quiet breathing is the only thing that fills the room for a long while, and he finally thinks you’ve drifted back off, when:

“Hey, Levi?”

“Hmm?”

“I... I’ve been thinking a lot, and...”

The tone of your voice is odd and it makes Levi’s throat seize up for a moment while you hesitate. He swallows deliberately.

“And?”

Your next words are more confident, like you have really been thinking a lot, your voice not sleepy in the slightest. It’s matter-of-fact and soft and lovely.

“And you make me feel really safe. Just, like, all the time. And I’m glad I met you. You make me feel, um...,” a small sniffle, “You make me feel held.”

Levi tightens his arm around you and swallows again. It feels like he’s balancing on the head of a pin, and a thousand angels are swirling around him, and it’s taking all he has not to get pushed off.

“Well, I am holding you.”

“Psssssht,” you wriggle slightly back so you can look at his face. You look simultaneously exasperated and vulnerable in the shadows of your bedroom. “You know what I mean.”

“What if I don’t?”

“Well, I guess...”

You pause to think for a moment, eyes flicking away from Levi’s face for a split second. Then, they’re back on his and he can feel the vulnerable honesty already spilling from you.

“I’ve never really, um, gotten a lot of physical affection? From people in my life? And, uh, it’s not just that, it’s that you’re so... so— so familiar, and not just because I know you, godimnotmakingalickofsense, but because it feels like I’ve always known you?” It’s said like a question, like you want to know if he feels the same. “And you just make me feel held.”

You pause on a shaky inhale of breath, then cover your face with your hands and roll onto your back away from him.

“God, I’m sorry, that doesn’t make any sense at all, I’ll just—“

“Stop,” Levi cuts you off, pushing up to lean over you and grasp your wrists in one hand and cover your mouth with the other, a mirror of the pair of you in the kitchen weeks earlier. “It makes sense. I get it.”

Your doe eyes stare up at him just like they did then and he selfishly indulges in an extra second of staring back before he releases you and slides back to rest on an elbow. Your hands stay demurely tucked by your chest where he put them and your tongue flicks out to lick at your lips as your eyes follow him.

“Really?”

“Yeah. I get it.”

“Okay. Good.”

Suddenly, Levi doesn’t feel like going to bed. He feels like running for miles or painting until his hands ache or hitting something, anything to distract him from doing something incredibly stupid right now. The mattress sinks as he sits up and spins his legs out of bed, muttering something about tea and not tired yet, and he almost doesn’t catch the sensation of you sitting up behind him.

He turns halfway back to tell you to go back to sleep, but your fingers catch his chin and he’s abruptly out of breath.

The curve of your bottom lip is perfectly, exactly the way he sketched it in the semi-dark. It’s slightly chapped.

When you kiss him, soft and certain, he topples off the pinhead and back into his body just in time to do something incredibly stupid and kiss you back.

—

(read part 7 here)

#levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi x fem!reader #aot fanfic #attack on titan fanfic #snk fanfic #shingeki no kiyojin fanfic #female!reader #levi ackerman #fluff #swearing #painter's hands and guatemalan coffee #valkyrie writes

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shemarmooresfedora · 3 years

Text

Rebuilding Family

Summary: Y/N and Spencer were college sweethearts at Cal-Tech but once Spencer got accepted to the FBI Academy, he ended things deciding it was not fair to make Y/N wait for him. When they meet again years later, he discovers something unexpected.

Pairing: Spencer x Fem! Reader

Masterlist

Chapter 10

You were packing up your stuff as students filed out of the lecture hall, it was your last class of the day. As you were walking out towards the parking lot, your phone started to vibrate in your bag. It was the school.

“Hello?” you answered.

“Hi Y/N. It’s Mrs. Flynn. I was just calling to let you know that Jo is now waiting inside with me because she was getting cold outside,” she informed you.

“Spencer’s not there?” you questioned, looking at the time displayed on your phone.

Pickup time was fifteen minutes ago.

“I’m on my way. I’ll be there in ten minutes. Sorry for the inconvenience,” you opened your car door and set your bag down in the passenger seat, turning on the ignition.

“No worries, I have to reorganize the classroom library anyways so I was already planning on staying after.”

Once the call ended, you tried to call Spencer but it went straight to voicemail.

“Hey Spencer, I don’t know if you forgot but it was your day to pick up Jo. I’m getting her now,” you said as you reversed out of your parking spot.

Minutes later, your phone rang again. Expecting Spencer’s contact to show up on screen, your brow furrowed when the name read “JJ” instead.

“Hi JJ?” you said, more of a question than a greeting.

“Y/N, Spencer has been shot. I already told Will to go back to the school to pick up Jo. You should get here if you can. He’s in surgery now but there has been no update since he went in,” JJ explained.

“Oh my god. Okay, I’m turning around now. How did this happen? He didn’t mention he was on a case?” you pulled into a random parking lot to turn around.

“Well technically, we weren’t. We had a lead on a possible local case and we went to interview a potential witness who could give us some more information. We realized too late that he was the unsub. He thought we were on to him and shot Spencer in the leg while trying to escape.”

You had silent tears running down your face.

“I’m five minutes out” is all you could muster and then you hung up the phone.

You ran into the ER doors to find the rest of the team in the waiting room. You were glad you went to Rossi’s dinner party now or else this would have been a much more awkward first meeting.

“Any updates?” you asked frantically.

“No,” Derek sighed, “But no news is good news.”

You took the empty seat in between JJ and Penelope and put your face in your hands, not wanting everyone to see your tears.

Two hours of crappy coffee and vending machine snacks as your only source of sustenance later, a doctor emerged from behind the double doors.

She had a completely neutral expression that you couldn’t read but then again you weren’t a profiler.

“Dr. Spencer Reid?” she asked, glancing down at her clipboard.

All of you stood and desperately crowded around her.

“Dr. Reid is in stable condition and awake. The bullet went into his thigh but it wasn’t through and through. He will need to be on crutches for about a week or so but luckily the bullet wound is near the edge of his thigh rather than the middle, meaning recovery time will be shorter,” she explained.

There was a collective sigh of relief along with a few “thank god”s.

“Although he is awake, I don’t think it’s best if you all go in at once since he is very drowsy. He has been asking for a Y/N?” the doctor looked around at you all.

All eyes fell on you. You collected yourself, grabbing your purse and following the doctor down the hall.

“I’ll let you know how he is,” you told everyone before you disappeared past the double doors.

The doctor guided you into a room at the end of the hall. You thanked her quietly and she nodded in acknowledgement, leaving you two alone. Spencer had his eyes closed but his hospital bed was inclined so he was sitting up slightly. You briskly walked over and took the seat right beside him. You took his hand in yours and squeezed it lightly, combing his messy hair out with your fingers.

As you were softly massaging his scalp, you heard a light groan. You retracted your fingers immediately as Spencer began to open his eyes.

Once Spencer took in his surroundings, he quickly sat up completely in bed, letting out a yelp of pain.

“Jo...it was my turn to pick up,” he said frantically.

“Hey, look at me, Spence. It’s okay, she’s at JJ and Will’s. You were shot in the thigh though so you’re not going anywhere. Please lie back down,” you assured him.

He nodded his head, relaxing a bit and looking down at his hands in his lap. He seemed to be processing something in his head.

“You called me ‘Spence’,” he stated.

Shit. That was twice now. It keeps slipping.

“Sorry, I-,” you began to ramble some apology that you didn’t even know where you were going with it. Luckily, he stopped you before you could further embarrass yourself.

“I didn’t say it was a bad thing,” he spoke softly as he looked up at you, tears threatening to fall.

“I was so scared, Y/N,” he sobbed.

You swiftly pulled him into your embrace, tucking his head into your neck as you began to gently stroke his hair again.

“It’s okay, let it out. I can’t imagine what that was like. I’m so sorry you had to go through that but you're safe now, I promise,” you whispered to him.

“I was so afraid I was going to abandon you and Jo again. It hurt worse than the actual bullet,” he muttered into your neck.

You removed your hands from his hair and cupped his cheeks, forcing him to look up at you.

“Spencer Reid, you did not abandon Jo in the first place so there is no ‘again’. Second of all, you would have died a hero saving lives and I would have made sure Jo knew that and she never forgot her Daddy or how much he loved her,” you spoke earnestly, never breaking eye contact.

Spencer’s eyes softened. A second later, his lips were on yours again. This time, however, you didn’t pull away. Life was too short and this was already complicated as is, what’s the harm.

You basked in the familiarity of his lips locking with yours. Once he finally pulled away for air, he rested his forehead against yours.

“Go out with me. A real date. No more college dorm dates with takeout,” he smiled.

“You know you didn’t have to get shot to ask me out, right?” you teased.

“I thought I needed a grand gesture,” he beamed, chucking lightly.

“Yeah, Spence, I’ll go on a date with you.”

His lips found yours once again.

“Jo, are you ready?” you called out from the kitchen, packing snacks.

“Mommy, I’m already at the door!” she exclaimed.

Jo was eager to go see her Daddy at the hospital. You would spend the day there until he was discharged and then he would live with you guys for the week. You insisted on being there to take care of him while he was healing. You didn’t want him hobbling around all alone in his apartment.

When you walked out to the front entryway, there was a stack of various toys and books that hadn’t been there when you came down the stairs.

“What is this?” you gestured to the pile, amused.

“Daddy has big boo-boo so he needs stuff to cheer him up,” she stated.

“I don’t think we are going to be able to bring all this. Plus, remember Daddy is coming home with us later today. So here’s what we will do,” you handed Jo her dinosaur backpack, “You pack all the stuff you can fit in this bag that you think Daddy needs right away and the rest of the stuff can wait.”

Jo made quick work of sorting through her massive pile, trying to decide what would make her dad the most happy.

“Daddy!” Jo excitedly screamed, running towards the bed.

“Jo!” he returned with the same sentiment.

She was unable to get up on the bed herself so you had to lift her up.

“Remember what I said, careful with Daddy or he won’t get better,” you reminded her.

“You can sit her on my good leg,” Spencer patted his right thigh where you gently set Jo down.

“We brought you loads of stuff, Daddy,” Jo chirped, looking over at you.

You revealed a box of donuts from your bag and the coffee tray you had been holding. You handed him a chocolate frosted donut with sprinkles and Jo a strawberry frosted with sprinkles. The two ‘cheers’ed their donuts before biting into them.

“Jo also brought you some things to cheer you up,” you handed her her backpack.

First, she promptly pulled out a pink Disney princesses band-aid and stuck it on Spencer’s already bandaged thigh.

“You need that so it doesn’t get infected,” she repeated Spencer’s words from when she fell at Rossi’s dinner party.

“Thank you, princess. What would I do without you?” he kissed the top of her head as she rummaged around in her backpack some more.

She set up her five favorite dinosaur toys on his tray table in front of them, glancing up at him for approval.

“Perfect,” he smiled, nodding.

Next, she pulled out a piece of paper that had been colored on.

“Who’s this?” Spencer asked, looking at the three stick figures doodled on the paper.

“That’s you, that’s Mommy, and that’s me,” she pointed to each of the sketches.

“Aw, that one is definitely making the fridge,” you smiled.

Finally, Jo took out her Magic Tree House book that she was currently reading. She needed help with some of the words but either you or Spencer or the both of you would help her read it every night.

“You already finished the last one?” Spencer picked up the new book that was next in the series, examining it and smiling proudly.

“And I didn’t need help with a single word on the last chapter,” Jo beamed.

“You’re so smart,” Spencer kissed her head again, “let’s see how far we can get on this one before we can go home.”

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #reid x reader #spencer x reader #cm fanfic #spencer reid #criminal minds

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after-witch · 3 years

Text

Sketch Memory [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Title: Sketch Memory [Yandere Overhaul x Reader]

Synopsis: Chisaki lets you indulge in your little hobbies. But he’s starting to suspect that you’re taking advantage of his “generosity.”

For request: @hello-lucky-luka said: Remember that one ask about overhaul’s angel having a boyfriend? Can I request a scenario where she misses her boyfriend a lot that she draws pictures of him to the point where overhaul got his attention and get jealous?

Word count: 2700ish

You’re not lying, you reason. You’re not, technically speaking, hiding anything. Overhaul never asks to see your sketchbook. And he never said you couldn’t draw someone you know. So the fact that you have been drawing your boyfriend every day since your captor gifted you the hefty, nicely bound thick sketchbook is something you force yourself not to worry about.

Sometimes you find yourself sketching just a bit of him--his hands holding onto his favorite coffee mug, the profile of his face, looking up, staring at a movie marquee on a date night.

Sometimes you draw his face in all its glory--smiling, frowning, annoyed. When you have lots of energy, lots of drive (which is not often, you feel so tired now, all the time; the lack of movement and weariness of captivity is getting to you) you draw an entire scene. Your favorite is the one you’re doing now, though to be fair, every new drawing is your favorite because it’s new. This one, you admit, is exceptionally special. You’ve drawn him sitting in the park, with a book in his lap.

The park, like everything else, is from memory. You wavered on where to put the tree behind the bench, because you can’t quite remember if it’s off-center or not, and whether or not it had a knot in the trunk towards the bottom or the middle. But it’s realistic, and that’s enough for now.

It’s your boyfriend that gives you the most pride in this piece. You’ve outdone yourself, you really have. He looks… alive. Weighty. Real. Real enough that you wish you’d done this in color and not just with your sketch pencils. Real enough that you close your eyes and imagine you’re in the park, that he’s sitting there with his book, engrossed in a story, so engrossed that he doesn’t see you coming. You stop in your tracks and admire his face, preserve the way he looks so focused, so far-away, to memory. You admire the way the breeze gently blows his hair, and a hand absentmindedly pushes his bangs (he needs a trim, or a style) away from his face before he flips a page.

Finally you can stand it no longer, and though you hate to break his concentration, you glide up to the bench and sit next to him. He jumps, but once he sees its you his body tension melts away and he slides closer until your thighs touch. “Good book?” You ask. He nods, then looks ahead. He looks concerned. Or focused. You’re not sure. “Are you okay?” He gives you a look of surprise, of worry, then a smile. “Of course. I just…” His hand fiddles in his pocket. There’s something there, something bulky and square. “Wanted to ask you something…” Your heart is hammering because you know what’s in his pocket and his hand is moving and he’s about to ask you and you’re smiling--

“Who did you draw?”

You’re not in the park--you’re not in the park--and your boyfriend is not here, and Overhaul is looming above you and he’s looking right at your sketchbook.

You slam the book closed and you know in the instant that you do that it was the wrong move. Defensive. Obvious. Shit, shit, shit shit.

You stare ahead and will yourself not to shake.

“I asked you a question, angel.”

“I…”

You don’t know where it comes from, but the courage to lie comes from somewhere, and you deliberately, slowly reopen your book to the exact page.

“Sorry,” you say, finally, looking up at him. You laugh, breathy and light. His face is impassive, as always. “You scared me. I was really focused, trying to, you know, think of what’s missing.” You pick up a pencil and fiddle with it, make a line here and there, useless things really, to make it look like you want to keep going.

“Mm.”

Your heart is beating so hard that it almost hurts.

“You didn’t answer my question. Who did you draw?” To anyone else, his tone might seem casual, neutral. Bored, even. But you know there’s something simmering underneath, the low threat of perceived bad behavior, the low threat of him sitting you down for “a talk,” or the distant promise returning to a particular small room and confinement.

You force yourself to smile, nervously. No point in hiding the anxiety that he knows is there, after all. “Oh! It’s,” and in a split second the idea comes to you, genius--”just a character from that book I was reading the other day.” You set your book down and casually--you hope it looks casual--reach up to the shelves installed along the walls behind your desk to pluck the book out. “The one about the guy who came home from war and no one remembered him, so he starts a new life in a new town.”

You set the book back in place and glance up at Chisaki, who stares down at you. You’re about to blurt out something, anything, to fill the silence when he nods. It’s a tension-cutting nod, a nod that tells you you’re okay, you haven’t fucked up, he believes you and you can stop feeling like you’re going to throw up now.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying the book.”

He’s fine. You’re fine. It’s fine. For now, you think, for now. You want him to leave before he starts asking more questions.

“Kai?”

“Yes?” His eyes crinkle ever-so-slightly. A smile, you think, behind the mask. Maybe.

You smile in what you hope is a sheepish, not nervous, expression. “Could I take a nap today? I’m feeling kind of tired.”

He doesn’t answer right away, which makes your fingers curl on the hard back of your sketchbook. Does he know?

He reaches out with a gloved hand and there’s a split second of fear--you’re done for--before he simply brushes your cheek. One of his rare, yet increasingly common, touches.

“Of course you can. I’ll set a timer so you don’t sleep too long.”

He turns and leaves your room through he unassuming door that connects to his office and you mumble a quiet thank you as it shuts. He’ll know if you don’t nap--you swear he has cameras in the room, though he denied it when you asked--so you tuck your sketchbook into the drawer of the desk and decide to hop into bed. A nap might help you feel less anxious, anyway. Your captor doesn’t let you nap long enough to dream, so you’ll be spared a nightmare.

You wake, almost jerking up, to the sudden, loud beeping of Overhaul’s watch--which is strange, because he usually sits in his office while you nap and wakes you up in a condescendingly gentle manner.

You open your eyes and Chisaki is standing silently next to your bed.

“Um?” You rub your eyes, the gentle rest of the nap falling off you abruptly as you take in the unusual circumstances.

You sit up and oh.

He’d holding your sketchbook.

He’s flipping through your sketchbook.

And he’s really, really pissed off. The air suddenly feels heavy and there’s nothing of the cold staleness that usually permeates your mundane interactions with your captor, the awkwardness replaced instead with the gravity of your situation. For the first time in a long time, you remember who has you captive. You remember what he can do. He could hurt you. He might hurt you. Did you anger him enough to break down whatever barriers that have kept him from hurting you so far?

He flips another page and another and lets out a sarcastic hum of approval. You feel your heart beat faster at every sound.

“Is that his hand? Remarkable shading, but…”

He rips the page out and crumples it, tossing it into the large trashcan before flipping the page. “Ah,” he says, voice low and cruel. “Another one of his face.” He rips that one out with particular gusto but it doesn’t crumple--it explodes, pieces of paper flying into the air. Some of them land on you, in your hair, and you furiously bat at them and your heart hurts and you know you’re tearing up and you don’t care.

“Stop,” you say, weak. A whimper. “Stop it.” Fat tears roll down your cheeks and it’s hard to see.

“Don’t argue with me.” His tone is quick and curt, and you know there will be no mercy, no coddling. No soft hushes and shushes. Only coldness. “You’re already in enough trouble.”

At the word ‘trouble,’ you wrap your arms around your chest. Trouble, trouble, trouble. The word carries memories and connotations. Isolation. Anxiety. Boredom. Helplessness. All things you experience on a daily basis, amplified, rolling together in a thick ball that rests at the bottom of your stomach. You can’t go back in your punishment room.

“Look at me,” he says--and you do. You want to get out of trouble. If that’s possible.

Chisaki doesn’t glare at you, not precisely, but his eyes are stern and unforgiving. You wonder if he’s frowning behind the mask, but maybe it’s better not to know. Once he’s satisfied that you’re paying attention, he continues.

“You are going to get out of bed. You are going to stand next to me. And then you’re going to rip out every drawing you’ve done of this… trash. And you will throw them away.”

You can feel the bitter, acrid taste of your lunch threatening to rise up to your throat.

“Please.” You’re whispering. You don’t have the strength to talk. “Please don’t make me do that.”

Somehow, you know--you know that if you rip up these pages, you’ll start to forget what your boyfriend looks like. The earliest drawings have the strongest features, the ones you flip to when you’re not sure about something. If those are gone, if every study you’ve done from memory is gone, you’ll forget. Just like you’ve forgotten the combination to your locker at work and the street your favorite bakery was on. You’ll forget, without the pages, without the reminders.

You know this. And Chisaki knows this, too. He always knows what you’re thinking, somehow, someway. If you could get a few steps ahead of him for once, keep yourself guarded, maybe he wouldn’t be able to effect you so much.

“If you don’t want to destroy drawings of this garbage, I can always pay him a visit.” Your entire body goes rigid and you want to cry out and beg him--no no no--but nothing leaves your throat, thick and tight and trapped. Chisaki’s eyes practically glint as he continues. “It might be more satisfying to destroy the real thing, now that I think about it.”

Something in your throat loosens and you stand up, nearly tripping over your own feet. You grab the book and he lets you, lets you hold it out in front of you like a burden. “I’ll do it,” you murmur, your body trembling. “I’ll do it, just… just don’t hurt him. Please. Please?” You look up and there’s no softness in his eyes, no agreeable smile that you sometimes see when he’s agreeing to give you a treat (because that is your life now, your captor agreeing to let you watch a movie is a special treat to be celebrated)--just passive coldness.

“Do what I told you, and we’ll see.”

It’s a start.

But now you have to do it.

Your drawings. Your work. Your memory of him. All pages and pencil and smudges and tears. Your entire body is trembling--you feel like the ground is moving, swaying beneath your feet. Your hands shake as you flip open to the nearest page.

An early sketch. One where your boyfriend’s face was so clear in your mind that if you had the skills to make photo realistic work, you might have been able to do it. You try to capture it to your memory but the second your hand moves, rips just a little, it seems to fly away. You pull harder and quickly wrinkle the paper in your hands before tossing it towards the trash bin.

You pause too long, apparently, because Chisaki speaks up.

“Keep going. I won’t tell you again.”

And you do. You tear out page after page, your tears flowing freely. You begin to feel numb, after a while, even as you rip out drawings that took you hours--drawings you poured your soul into, whatever is left of your soul after months and months of captivity.

One more to go.

Your hand gingerly touches the sketch that you’d been so proud of earlier. The last page. The last visual memory left--the only one not ripped apart or crumpled or shredded and nestled in your hair.

You want to lose yourself in it again. You want to close your eyes and pretend you’re at the park and he’s about to propose and your life will be nothing but sweetness and planning for the future. But the air is too thick and Overhaul is staring and he can’t read your thoughts, but he’ll figure it out anyway.

So you rip the page out of the book and tear it in half, jagged and uneven, before throwing it into the garbage.

Your hand recoils from the ghost-like memory of the paper on your fingers and you press them against your chest, above your heart.

Your boyfriend has probably moved on by now. Maybe he’s months deep into a rebound relationship, finding himself brushing away tears at new firsts with another woman, a woman who can’t replace you but who will heal the wound you left in his heart. Who will heal your wounds?

Chisaki is staring at you, you realize, and you drop your hands. You don’t want him to think you’re fondly reminiscing. He could always change his mind about leaving your boyfriend--your ex? What do you call him? What does he call you, you wonder?--alone.

“We’re going to have a long talk about this later,” he says, voice leaving no room for argument. He pauses, and your chest feels tight. Will he tell you that you’re being sent to the quiet room? The thought of being there for days, alone, unable to do anything, barely able to move in the tight surroundings makes you shake and you dig your nails into your arm.

“You can stay in your room. You listened well.”

You swallow, throat tight, and nod. You almost want to smile. You don’t have to go back there, if you listen. You know how to listen, when it comes down to it.

Chisaki glances down at the trash bin and picks it up with his gloved hands, dragging it towards the door.

“One more thing,” he says, glancing back at you.

“Go wash your hands. They’re filthy.”

#yandere overhaul #yandere kai chisaki #overhaul x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #afterwitch writes

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bxtchforstyles · 3 years

Text

You Better

Harry Styles x CEO!Y/N

Harry's girlfriend is the CEO of Gucci, and it is no easy job, but getting to design her boyfriends suits makes it all worth it.

Warning: minor swearing

Word Count: ~1.5k

gif not mine

"Hi baby," Harry was quick to greet her at the door, planting a small kiss to her cheek. "How was work?"

"Long." Y/n sighed as she took her coat off, hanging it on the hook near the door. "Very, very long. never thought I could go to that many meeting in one day."

Harry loved when Y/N came home, and she loved coming home to him. He was an absolute angel to her, especially when she was stressed and annoyed. Always greeting her at the door with kisses, making her dinner, running her a bath. Harry was everything that Y/N dreamed of in a relationship.

"I have a question for you, love."

Y/N nodded as she followed him into the kitchen, seeing there was a large pot on the stove, most like some type of pasta that Harry loved making for her.

She sat down at the island of the kitchen as he went over to the stove to tend to the dinner, looking back at her occasionally. "Ya know how I have the tour for the second album coming up, right?"

She smiled, "Yes I am well aware that Love On Tour will be stealing my boyfriend."

"Well, that leads me to my first question." He takes a step towards the countertop she was sat at, looking across at her. "I was wondering if, maybe, you wanted to go on tour with me, or at least the American leg of it.

Y/N smiled even brighter this time, "I would love to go with you! I'm sure I can work something out to where I can work virtually for a couple of months."

He was gleaming with excitement, never being able to experience tour with her the last time around because she didn't have much seniority at her job and didn't want to abuse her power of having a flexible schedule.

"Now, what was your other question?"

Y/N noticed how he almost immediately got nervous when she said that, making her stomach start to sink.

"I don't want you to see me asking you this as rude, or as if i'm using you, because that is definitely not the case whatsoever,"

"Babe, I know that you're not using me." She almost laughed, "what is it that you want to ask me?"

"The last tour, the suits I wore were a large part of my performance, since the fans loved them so much," He was completely rambling now, "and I loved them too, they were amazing. I just wanted to know there was any way-"

She cut him off, already know what he was going to ask. "You want me to design your suits for tour again."

He let out a sigh of relief before nodding.

"Of course I will bub!" She was now the excited one, "I've been waiting for you to ask me, I just didn't want to overstep if you already had picked out a designer."

"Oh thank god." He let out a sigh of relief.

"I've had so many designed that i've put aside for you. Home many shows are there going to be?"

Y/N was a very smart woman, and Harry knew that from the start.

When the two of them first met, it was when Harry had done the Gucci campaign in 2018. Y/N was just an employee at that time, working in the design as well as the management department.

She had been the one to style him for all of his photo shoots for that day, and at the end of, Harry knew he had to see her again.

That's when Gucci offered to design a suit for each one of his tour stops, which he was ecstatic about.

Y/N had been apart of the main design team working on all sixty of the suits, top to bottom. She had always secretly been a little star struck by Harry, always wanting to impress him.

Now though, four years later, they had been dating for almost three years and Y/N was now one of the CEO's at Gucci.

Her dream.

Some people thought that the only reason Harry got special promos, suits and other things of the sort was because his girlfriend had such an important role in the business. But what they didn't know, was that everyone in the entire Gucci enterprise work team loved Harry.

"Can i see some of them?" He asked, speaking of the designs she had mentioned.

She immediately got up out of her seat at the barstool she was sat in, trekking quickly towards the foyer to retrieve her work bag. She pulled out her design binder, where all of the pictures of the modeled suits were.

She set the large binder in front of him on the counter, "Now, I know that most of these drawers are on female models, but please, keep an open mine."

"When do I not?" He sent a smirk at her before opening the binder.

The couple spent the next couple of hours looking at all of the suits that Y/N had sketched, deciding what on the designs to keep, and what parts needed to be reconfigured.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Baby, I love how you look in pearls. They make your eyes shine." She gleamed as she walked into Harry's fitting room in her designing room.

"I really like this, actually." He told her, before attempting to adjust the suit jacket.

She took over, "Here, let me." He fixed the Jacket and the collar before directing him back towards the large mirror.

"Perfect." She stated.

"I really love it."

Y/N was over the moon looking at her boyfriend, seeing the many visions she had of the suits she designed for him come to life. The black suit jacket was lined with pearls, along with some pretty gold buttons that laid against Harry's torso.

She was smiling from cheek to cheek. "I'm really glad, hopefully you like all the suits I've designed for you."

That's when Harry turned around to walk into her office, immediately stopping in his tracks as soon as he entered. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, wondering what he was looking at.

Until she herself walked in her office behind him, then she knew exactly what he was looking at.

"Please tell me that one is for me." His pleasing eyes were already begging her.

In the center of her room, was a standing mannequin, covered in a dark purple suit, covered in pink and silver rhinestones.

"Um-"

He widened his eyes, grabbing his girlfriend by the shoulders dramatically. "Y/N, angel, I will literally pay you however much you want if i can have this suit."

It was in fact not meant to be for Harry, but looking at his face, Y/N didn't think she could ever say no to him.

"You don't have to fucking pay me for it, Harry." She laughed at her boyfriend's offer, but he only narrowed his eyes at her playfully.

"But I will."

"I don't want you to." She protests back before beginning to take the suit jacket off of the standing mannequin. "Let's see if this even fits."

As soon as she put the jacket on him, his eyes lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Fits like a glove." Y/N smiled, adjusting the buttons on the suit.

"Okay, you have to give this to me now." Harry looked at himself in the mirror hung on the wall of her office.

"I'll see what I can do."

He sat down on the couch that was sat against the wall, opposite of Y/N's office. "Who was it originally for anyway?"

She sat on her desk, facing her boyfriend. "Well, it was supposed to be for Justin Bieber, he wanted a suit for the Met Gala that matched Hailey's, but i'll figure something out."

"Oh my-" He gasped in shock at the fact he was wearing a suit that was intended to be warm by Justin Bieber. "Wait," He then started.

"What now, Harry?" Y/N rolled her eyes playfully.

"You're telling me my girlfriend is the CEO of Gucci, and i've never got to wear a cool matching suit with her? What the fuck is that about?"

"Ya know, I usually don't have the time to make myself a fancy dress to match Mr. I want a bright red suit that is entirely covered in hand sewn crystals."

"Oi! You have to admit that suit was one of the best I've ever worn!" Her boyfriend protests.

"One of them? It was the best!" She shoots back with a hint of shock in her tone. "Anyways, maybe I'll design us some fancy matching suits for when my insanely talented boyfriend sweeps the Grammys."

"Holy shit, I love you." He gasps as he plants his lips against here.

Y/N smiles into the kiss, "You better."

AUTHORS NOTE:

i hope you enjoyed, please send any requests that you have and I will try to respond to them asap!! thank you for reading! TPWK<3 xoxo- hails

#harry styles x y/n #harry styles x ofc #harry styles blurb #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles blog #harry styles imagine #harry styles one shot #solo harry #harry styles #ceo! y/n

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bucky-hues · 3 years

Text

stucky fic recs

here are some stucky fic recs! as always, be sure to read the warnings for each fic <3

one shots

finding home | @thedamageofherdays

cap steve x modern bucky

After he is caught in a terrible rainstorm while hiking, Bucky is glad to find shelter at the cottage Steve shares with his daughter and his dog. Bucky ends up finding so much more than just a safe place to spend the night.

x | @dreadlockholiday

steve x bucky

Request: Bucky looking through a glossy magazine and saying something like "God, can you imagine being paid for just looking cute?" And without thought Steve replies, "you'd be a millionaire" and Bucky just blushes furiously while Steve's all like 😳 *oh no, I just said that out loud*

x | @dreadlockholiday (18+)

steve x bucky

Bucky finds his BFF Steve's sketchbook... and it's full of nothing but sketches of Bucky... naked.

sweethearts | @musette22

steve x bucky

Steve confesses his feelings to Bucky using sweethearts

my moon, my man | @musette22 (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

AU meet-cute. Strangers on a Train, but with less murder and more sexual tension.

make it till you fake it | AggressiveWhenStartled (AO3)

steve x bucky

“Ned,” Peter said, like a drowning man sighting land. “Ned. Captain America and the Winter Soldier are fake dating right now and it is the most painfully awkward and obvious thing I have ever seen, all of us want to die, Ned.”

things my heart used to know | Nightwing11 (AO3)

steve x bucky

In a world where soulmates can communicate telepathically with their partners, Steve Rogers has always had Bucky Barnes with him, a calming voice in a sea of turmoil. And, when Bucky falls off the train during World War II, Steve experiences deafening silence for the first time.

Now, after crashing a plane in the Arctic to save the world and being frozen for 70 years, Steve’s still trying to figure out how to live without Bucky there. His new friends are trying to help him adjust, to move on. And he thought he was doing better, he really did.

So, why is he suddenly hearing Bucky’s voice again?

catfish | @buckmebxrnes (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers is a famous movie star, known for his role as Captain America. Bucky Barnes is a bored law student who drinks too much wine. Bucky gets on match.com to boost his confidence. What he doesn't expect is a guy using Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating profile. Bucky decides to mess with the guy. After all, what idiot uses Steve Rogers' pictures on a dating site?

Not like it's really him, right? Bucky may need more wine.

let's go have fun | @sebastanbucky

steve x bucky

“Nat wanted me to-” Nat clears her throat and he rolls his eyes. “I wanted to tell you something.” He looks at Steve with a look he hopes says ‘play along’. “Okay. What did you want to tell me?” Bucky has to take a deep breath to keep from laughing again, it helps with his performance as Nat nods encouragingly at him. “I’m gay.” He says, making his voice sound shaky and weak.

the way you came around | sokaless (AO3)

steve x bucky

After a while, Bucky says, “You know, this song sounds like it was written for you.” “That's funny,” Steve remarks. “I chose it because it reminded me of you.” Steve gives Bucky an iPod full of his favourite songs from the 21st century to help him deal with his nightmares. Bucky has a new mission- to find out who Steve is in love with, because there are a few too many unrequited love songs on that iPod.

stuck on you | wearing_tearing (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“Bucky? You don’t look so hot.”

Bucky makes a tiny little sound in the back of his throat, only to start coughing. Of course he doesn’t look hot. He’s sick and he’s dying and Steve obviously isn’t attracted to him.

you have the place next to my place | justanotherStonyfan (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

prompt: “We live in adjacent apartments and our bedrooms are on opposite sides of a very thin wall and one night I heard you crying and talked to you through the wall” AU

Captain America helps the Vet next door.

you’ve got (30) new matches | williamkaplans (AO3)

steve x bucky

When everyone finds out Steve's bi thanks to Bucky's recovering memories, Natasha kicks up her match-making into high gear. Steve has zero luck, but Natasha won't give up, especially when Sam (jokingly) suggests online dating. It isn't long before Steve finds someone, a someone who seems eerily familiar.

perfectly right wrong number | melonbutterfly (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

It all starts because Steve is too dumb to handle his smartphone.

A wrong number AU in which Bucky Barnes doesn't enter Steve's life (meaning: Bucky wasn't born until the eighties, but Steve is still Captain America) until Steve accidentally dials the wrong number. Wherein there is a lot of texting, some advice via Natasha and Darcy, a bit of pining, and a first date in an amusement park. Oh, and on top of being a disabled veteran, Bucky is a professional catwalker. Literally.

put your number in my phone | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve tucks his phone back into his pocket and turns back to the computer. He only has to click a few times before he finds the link to the questionnaire and opens it, inputting the participant number before hitting next. The beginnings of the consent form fills the page, and all Steve has left to do now is wait for the participant— one James Barnes, according to the website— to show up.

Thankfully, Steve doesn’t end up having to wait very long. James Barnes shows up ten minutes early and knocks on the door before cracking it open and peeking in.

“Oh, hi,” he says, when he spots Steve sitting at the desk. He pushes the door open all the way and steps into the room just as Steve spins in the chair to face him.

“Um, I’m, uh, a bit early, but I’m here for the decision making study,” James continues, clear blue eyes flickering around the room before landing on Steve again. The skin between his eyebrows crinkles up a little, and god, Steve probably shouldn’t find his uncertainty as cute as he does. “Am I in the right place?”

wouldn’t it be nice | MacksDramaticShenanigans (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

"You are never going to believe what just happened," Bucky bemoans, shaking his head. He's at Steve's side in a moment and doesn't bother to give any warning before he dramatically falls into Steve's lap. Steve just barely manages to save his book from getting squashed.

"What is it?" Steve asks, matching Bucky's dramatic tone. "What am I not going to believe?"

"I just got off the phone with Natasha," he starts. "She cancelled on me!" Bucky throws his arms up, nearly smacking Steve in the face in the process.

Steve carefully places his hand on Bucky's forearm and lowers it away from his face.

"You're kidding," he says, a frown curving onto his lips at the news.

"I wish I was," he sighs. Bucky presses his lips together into a disappointed line and deflates against the back of the couch, slinking down Steve's thighs a little. "Who goes to Coney Island alone? How pathetic is that?"

Steve snorts, earning a glare from Bucky, and pats Bucky's thigh. "Aw, don't be such a sourpuss, Buck," he says. "Who said anything about going alone?"

all jokes aside | darksknight (AO3)

steve x bucky

"Before we know it Banner’s gonna be makin’ insinuations.” (Everyone "jokes" about Steve and Bucky being in a relationship until, eventually, they admit that they are.)

barnes & rogers and the goddamn truth

steve x bucky (teacher au)

There are three well-known facts at Shield High:

1. The history teacher Mr. Barnes is a stone-cold terror, and it’s not even because he only has one arm. 2. The other history teacher, Mr. Rogers, is a mysterious enigma, and it’s something to do with the body of a Greek God and contradicting stories of his past. (They’re all rumours, anyway.) 3. Mr Barnes and Mr Rogers hate each other.

Bucky wouldn’t have it any other way.

in the shadows | DragonWannabe (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Five times they thought they were almost caught, one time someone found out, and one time they didn't have to hide.

OR:

Bucky and Steve grew up in a time when people like them went to jail.

single and looking | Jaiden_S (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

"Bucky held his place with his index finger and turned the magazine over to check the date on the cover. It was brand new, just out this month. An unexpected cord of anxiety tightened in Bucky’s chest. Single and looking? Frantically, he flipped back to the article. What exactly was Steve looking for? According to the article, Steve’s dream girl should be intelligent, altruistic, well-versed in current events and have a wicked sense of humor. Oh, and he had a thing for high heels and red lipstick. Bucky’s stomach churned as he re-read the article. Was that really what Steve wanted? Make-up and stilettos?"

A slightly sappy tale of two utterly besotted super-soldiers who excel at miscommunication.

these american dreams (ain’t no white picket fences left for me) | kariye (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

In which Bucky has a house, a dog, an herb garden, and a serious case of insomnia. Welcome to Havensport, Indiana (population 8,294), where Tom’s Neighborhood Grocer stays open all night, little old ladies call the car shop to get their refrigerators repaired, and the heat of summer days and the length of summer nights can make you think that this perfect world will last forever.

i’ve been careless with a delicate man | paraxdisepink (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Steve lets SHIELD think he and Bucky were boyfriends so they’ll let him see the Winter Soldier in medical.

knock on wood | 74days (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers lives a quiet, steady life, until his next door neighbour moves in and starts having incredibly energetic sex every night. All Steve wants is for him to move his bed away from the wall so the damn headboard doesn't knock a hole through his wall.

progressively bigger keys | spinawren (AO3)

steve x bucky

“A very little key will open a very heavy door.” ― Charles Dickens, Hunted Down

Steve and Bucky, it appears, have less need for a key and more use for a battering ram in trying to come out of the closet.

(The one where Steve tries to do one thing (one thing!) without causing a national ruckus, but the press are determined to see Bucky as Steve's best friend. And nothing more.)

stucky discover gay rights | Alicia_Borealis (AO3)

steve x bucky

“Then, why-” Steve stopped himself and looked at Bucky, who had tears rolling freely down his cheeks. “We’re- we’re not sick?”

“Wait, what?” Tony asked.

“Being a homosexual, it isn’t… wrong?”

The story of how Steve Roger's loved and lost Bucky, then how he got him back and then how he realised he was allowed to love him after all.

thursday nights with bucky barnes | Ellessey (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve has a comfortable, well-worn routine for his Thursday nights, until the old man who runs the laundromat breaks his hip.

Then Steve has Bucky instead.

to seek a nood-er world | jehans (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky

Send noodz

Steve has been staring at his phone for the last six minutes, eyes narrowed so much they’re almost closed at this point, trying to figure out what the hell Bucky means. Noodz? What the fuck are noodz?

Listen, Steve is at least marginally aware of modern pop culture. He’s heard of nudes — not that nudes are exactly a modern invention; artists have been creating them for millennia — and he does know that people tend to misspell words to be cute or funny. They did that when he was young, too. Because time is a flat circle, apparently.

But, wait—does that mean…?

No. Not possible. Bucky isn’t asking Steve to send him…nudes.

Right?

tied ‘round your throat | sleepypercy (AO3) (18+)

police officer steve x serial killer bucky

Steve's a small-town police officer trying to track a serial killer who's been in Steve's bed the whole time.

much tattoo about nothing | Deisderium (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

Steve Rogers gets a lot of email requests, but never one like this: James Barnes wants to use his healing factor to practice tattoos.

Turns out tattoos give Steve boners.

the perfect man | Ellessey (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Setting up a dating profile is decidedly not in Bucky's skill-set, but against all odds he manages to connect with someone who makes the one-night stand he thought he wanted feel like not nearly enough.

kiss me and take off your clothes | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve Rogers is dared to send a dick pic to a blog which critiques dick pics (run by none other than Bucky Barnes). Hilarity ensues.

i can’t dare to dream about you anymore | steveandbucky (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve considers himself to be a pretty open-minded guy, which is why he can't quite understand why he feels so uncomfortable whenever he sees his gay roommate kissing guys. He's not homophobic, but how else can he explain the way his stomach twists at the sight?

It takes him a while to catch on.

exam room b | steveandbucky (AO3)

modern steve x nurse bucky

“Wait, what do you mean he asked for me?”

“He asked if the cute male nurse with the ponytail was working today. I assume he meant you.”

kickstart my heart | Kalee60 (AO3) (18+)

doctor steve x modern bucky

Bucky’s Wednesday wasn’t off to a great start. Not only did he wake up in a hospital with his annoyed best friend staring down at him, his treating Doctor just happened to be way too familiar, and the reason for that was slightly mortifying.

With misunderstandings in the air, a snarky nurse who is a pain in his butt and the ugliest neck brace known to man attached to his body. There was no way his Wednesday was ever going to improve. Could it?

you make me feel.. | kalika_999 (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

All Steve wanted was to take a breather, decompress after a mission and go out for a jog in the rain. He wasn't expecting to hide out in a bookstore filled with new and used books or that the employee that worked there thought he was an absolute loser and didn't even realize he was insulting Captain America.

nothing in the world that could stop it | rainbow_nerds (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky just wanted to send his best friend a picture of his cat being an idiot while he was taking a bath. Was it really his fault for forgetting the full length mirror right opposite the tub?

rescue me and hold me in your arms | 74days (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky is on the worst date of his life, and what he really needs of for this waitress to get the message he's sending her with his mind to rescue him. She doesn't, but she does send someone to extract him from a night of torture...

odd ways | peterbparker (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“And it would have been an amazing night with my son if he wasn’t distracted by the hot guy on the other side of the room,” Sarah sighed, shaking her head. “He’s been looking over at you for the past fifteen minutes.”

Bucky choked on the mouthful of beer he had just taken.

“What?” he croaked. Things were starting to make a little more sense now.

“Right?” Sarah said, waving her hand towards her son. “He completely ignored my garden stories because he’s been making eyes at you so I decided to come over and introduce myself.”

series

rare is this love (keep it covered) | @musette22 (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

It’s 2014. Captain America has been out of the ice for three years and is trudging along, saving the world and trying to get used to living in the future. Steve thinks he knows how the rest of his life is going to pan out – a life of duty, which he chose when he signed up to be Erskine’s science experiment. But then, he meets Bucky Barnes: the out-of-this-world-gorgeous mechanic and war vet, who turns Steve’s life upside down and makes him question everything he thought he knew. Slowly, Steve comes to realize there is more to life than duty and punching Nazis. Just one problem though: how on earth does a 96-year-old virgin who only just realized he may not be entirely straight make the transition from crush to relationship? Cue healthy amounts of self-doubt, awkward flirting, pretty blushing, existential crises, emotional growth, and maybe, possibly, a sexual awakening.

coming up easy | @musette22 (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

“Listen, I was just thinking,” Steve says, his face open, eyebrows raised in a tentatively hopeful expression. “Why don’t you come stay at my place for a while? I’ve got an office that I barely use, and a change of scenery might do you good, right? Help you beat that writer’s block?” With a crooked smile, he adds, “I promise I’m not a serial killer.”

While Bucky would normally crack a joke about how that’s exactly what a serial killer would say, right now, all he can do is blink at Steve in surprise, heart tripping over itself in his chest. Steve wants him to come and stay at his place. In Massachusetts. Just the two of them.

"Oh," Bucky croaks. "I- Wow."

“I mean, no pressure,” Steve says hastily. “Totally fine if you don’t wanna. I just thought I’d offer, in case it might help, y’know?”

“Yeah.” Bucky ignores the little voice in his head that sounds an awful lot Nat and Becca, telling him he’s setting himself up for heartbreak. “I mean, if you’re sure, that would be amazing.”

4 minute window | @cesperanza

steve x bucky

"Look, if they catch me," Bucky muttered, "they're either going to kill me or they're going to put me in a box with a little window and—Steve, I can't."

swapped | writeonclara (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

if u wanted my number u couldve just asked

u didnt have to steal my whole phone ;)

Steve stared down at his phone, confused. He didn't recognize the number – except, oh wait, he really did. That was his number. On his phone.

He flipped the phone over, then slid one hand down his face. Not his phone.

“Fuck,” he muttered.

[stupid fucking] brooklyn hipster bros | relenaflanel (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Bucky's mother gives him an ultimatum. Bucky doesn't respond well.

All Barneses are stubborn assholes, Steve observes, as though he doesn't see the irony of calling someone else stubborn. Or an asshole.

And Bucky can't even deny he is a total asshole for lying to his mother about dating Steve just so he doesn't have to bring someone else to her wedding, but damn if he's not going to give the lie everything he has.

brought to brightness | eyres (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

Army veteran Bucky Barnes has fallen in love with Steve, a guy he met online a few months after he returned from Afghanistan. Only problem is, he doesn't know Steve's last name or even what he looks like.

When his sister helps him send his story into MTV's Catfish, he's hoping they can help him meet Steve or, at least, let him move on with his life if Steve isn't real. Little does he know, Steve and Captain America have more in common than just a first name.

slide to answer | relenaflanel (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

"What do I do?” Steve appealed into the phone. “I’m freaking out.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. It lasted so long that Steve pulled the receiver away from his ear and frowned at it. Pay phones were old. Maybe this one wasn’t working despite the obvious dial tone when he picked up.

“Ok,” a stranger’s voice said over the phone. “First acknowledge the fact that you dialed the wrong number, but be quick about it because my cab is a few blocks away from my own plans and I’m about to drop some truth bombs on you.”

how to woo the winter soldier | writeonclara (AO3)

steve x bucky

“I think I’m ready to date again,” Steve said.

“What,” Natasha said.

“What?” Clint said, lowering his binoculars. He blinked at the dumbstruck look on the Captain’s face, then followed his gaze to where he was staring dopily at—at the Winter fucking Soldier.

“Steve, no,” Clint groaned.

Or: Steve courts the Winter Soldier.

all these things that i’ve done | @not-withoutyou

steve x bucky

Steve was the patron saint of waiting too long. Bucky was atoning for his sins. Maybe they’d both been forsaken, abandoned by the light. Maybe they’d find a way back to each other again.

Post civil war, if things had gone differently.

find a way (to make it back home) | belwrites (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (college au)

Fresh off a year abroad, Head Resident Assistant Steve Rogers finds his senior year of college to be full of changes, and he's not just talking about the growth spurt. He's more concerned with the fact that his best friend...isn't talking to him? Is dating his ex? May or may not be missing an arm?

In which Steve has no fucking clue what's going on, but he's trying, Bucky learns how to communicate with his best friend again, and everyone quietly panics about the future.

is it pretending if i already want you? | OhCaptainMyCaptain (AO3) (18+)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Based on prompt: Pretend Boyfriends AU where one of their families is always wondering why they're never in a relationship, so the other offers to pretend to be their boyfriend for some family event

the roommate | layersofart, Niitza (AO3)

cap steve x modern bucky

In which Steven G. Rogers, a.k.a. Captain America, gets a roommate. Who rapidly turns into his "roommate"—in the euphemistic sense of the word.

It takes SHIELD and the rest of the Avengers an absurd amount of time to notice.

dear mr. postman | odetteandodile (AO3)

steve x bucky (modern au)

Steve and Bucky revive an old friendship, get married (but totally just as friends, for reasons), and navigate a few of the many trials of the heart that come with falling in love with your best friend.

fate will play us out | steveandbucky (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x modern bucky

Bucky has landed himself a job with Stark Industries. He doesn't know yet that the job is actually being the PR manager for the Avengers.

Bucky has also started dating Steve Rogers. He also doesn't know yet that Steve is Captain America.

Bucky's life is about to get a whole lot more exciting.

the avengers hate club | notebooksandlaptops (AO3)

pop star steve x modern bucky

Bucky falls hopelessly for Steve and starts an Avengers hate club with the lead singer of the Avengers.

songbird | chicklette (AO3) (18+)

modern steve x musician bucky

At 43, James Barnes is a washed up old man. He’s got a dozen Grammys in the hall closet, an agent that can’t get him a deal, a decade-old case of writer’s block, a moody teen-aged daughter, and the gorgeous actress Natasha Romanova for an ex-wife. Well, one of them anyway. He’s a man who’s given up on finding joy in his life, and if it wasn’t for his kid, he’d have probably found a way to quit the world a long time ago.

Enter Steven Grant Rogers, struggling twenty-something, orphan, and someone who has no idea who Barnes is, other than some musician his mom liked a lot. The two men meet by accident, doing nothing more than passing the time in a quiet bar. But when a pap gets a shot of the two men embracing, Bucky takes it as a chance to finally come out as bisexual, and his agent makes him a proposition: Ten new songs and one very sweet boyfriend will get him a new record deal that will maybe, just maybe put him back on top.

Now all he has to do is write the songs, convince the kid, and not fall in love. Should be easy, right?

the right partner | LeeHan (AO3) (18+)

cap steve x ws bucky

Steve meets a beautiful man with a bright laugh on a sunny day in Italy. Captain America meets the elusive Winter Soldier moments later.

Date Bucky Barnes. Defeat the Winter Soldier. Bring down Hydra. How hard could it be?

#stucky fic #stucky fic recs #steve x bucky #steve rogers x bucky barnes #stucky #bucky barnes #steve rogers

139 notes · View notes

kyouxa · 3 years

Text

Diabolik lovers Chaos Lineage: Shin Tsukinami (Story 12)

In terms of the gameplay: The black choices lead up to a bad ending, the white choices lead up to a good ending. Please no reposting onto other sites, ask me before translating this into another language too! If you enjoy these translations, please consider supporting me on ko-fi.

Place: Abandoned house — Outside

Yui: (Yesterday I was apparently the first one to fall asleep. Was I really that tired though?)

Kino: How nice. C’mon, it’s hot now.

It’s some food I’ve been stealing beforehand, so please eat it as carefully as you can.

Yui: Kino-kun, thank you.

Shin: Did you steal things like this before us knowing about it too?

Kino: I might’ve taken some while you two were resting a bit.

For once, I wasn’t just playing around as you see.

Shin: No, that’s an extension of playing around, don’t you think?

Kino: Meanie. I only brought it with me because I thought that girl might be hungry to begin with.

Yui: Really? Thank you for your concern then.

Kino: Ah, yeah! I also found something really interesting while I was searching for food!

I want to show it to Shin, so wait here for a hot minute. I’ll go get it.

*Kino leaves*

Shin: What could be so interesting? Well, whatever. I shouldn’t be surprised about anything that guy pulls up anymore.

Go on, you can eat without holding back now. You’re hungry, aren’t you?

Yui: Yep, after everything that happened, I really am. Thanks for the food!

Ah, it’s hot… !

(The meat is really hot because it was freshly roasted… !)

Shin: You’re not a child anymore, so eat more calmly than that. Nobody’s taking it away from you after all.

Yui: Yes, you’re right.

...Nn, it hurts… it looks like I burnt my tongue

Shin: Haa. Your clumsiness is showing, seriously.

*Shin gets closer*

Shin: Alright, show me your tongue. I have to check on it before it might get even worse.

Yui: Eh!? I’m fine, really! It’s not that big of a deal.

Shin: If it gets worse you’ll suffer deterioration. It’s better to show me yourself before I’m forced to pull your tongue out myself, right?

Yui: (Uhh… it’s no use, but I still hate it… let’s see)

Fine, I get it. I’ll show you myself.

Shin: What? I would’ve been fine with pulling it out myself as well.

Yui: No, thanks… ! Alright, Nn…

*Yui shows tongue*

Shin: Ah, it’s getting really red.

Should I take care of it? It would heal way faster like that, don’t you think?

Yui: Eh!? No! You don’t have to go that far, I’m fine.

Shin: You shouldn’t decline. I would be glad to help you out for the sake of it healing faster.

Yui: T-That’s not...

Shin: Perhaps you would rather want to be bitten by my fangs than simply being treated? Well, if that’s so you could’ve told me earlier.

Yui: That’s not what I asked for… !

Shin: Looks as if the third wheel’s about to come back. I’ll settle this now or never then.

Nn…

*Shin kisses Yui*

Yui: Nn…

Shin: Kuku, your face is bright red. You’re still shy even if it’s just kissing.

If you don’t get used to it, there might be some difficulties in the future.

Yui: It’s embarrassing to me, therefore I can’t help it, okay… !?

Kino: ...Ahem, Ahem!

Yui: Ah, Kino-kun! You’re back!

Kino: Yep, I’m back. Ah, don’t worry about me, just keep going.

*Shin backs off*

Shin: We can’t easily continue now. There’s nothing more we’re gonna show you either.

Kino: How lewd. Well, whatever. Apart from that, I want you to look at this.

*Kino gets closer*

Yui: Ah, talking about it, you wanted to show us something interesting, right… ?

Kino: Hm, yep! Tada, look at this! It’s a caricature of Shin!

Yui: Eh? Of Shin-kun?

Shin: Uwah! Where did you get this from!?

Kino: I found it when exploring the Orange mansion. I brought it reflexively with me because it was kinda an amazing sketch, in my opinion.

Hey, did you draw this? I found it in Shin-kun’s room, but...

Shin: T-That’s...

Yui: But it looks really good. Did Shin-kun draw this all by himself?

Shin: It’s not like that. Because I had no time to do it myself, I let a familiar draw it for me instead.

Kino: Hmm, so it’s a portrait? As expected from a founder, they really act differently.

But even so, do you really like yourself that much? This portrait is way prettier than you actually are though.

Shin: Shut up! I mean, you’re not beautifaction yourself in person either! I at least let them draw me faithfully.

I’m totally fine with how this turned out. We have to talk about way more important things than that anyway.

Kino: Yep, Yep. Let’s talk seriously about this matter from now on. Does any of you got something?

Shin: I… I want to regain my brother’s memory.

After I first got to observe the situation, I immediately felt as if it’s an impossible task. We met each other face to face several times, yet I haven’t noticed any change in him.

Yui: Shin-kun…

Kino: Well, guess so.

Shin: So I think it’s best to find a way to get out of here first, before trying anything with him again.

Kino: Don’t you think that this is also difficult? We’ve just been looking around the mansions for now, that’s it. And even there were no clues.

Shin: I know that. I just want to get out of this ridiculous place if possible. Maybe his memory would come back naturally then.

...I thought that if I can’t somehow shake his memory, they might be able to come back themselves by any chance.

Kino: By chance, huh? Does that mean you actually cared about what I said yesterday?

Shin: ...Not really.

Yui: Yesterday?

(I wonder what happened while I was asleep?)

Shin: So, what’s it? Do you think it’s the opposite?

Kino: No. As you said it yourself, I think it would be quicker to get out of here first.

Shin: Thought so. What do you think?

Choices

1) What about Carla-san then? (black)

2) I want to know how to escape (white)♡ ♡ ♡

— What about Carla-san then?

Yui: What about Carla-san then? You’re the one who wants him to remember the most after all.

Shin: It can’t be helped. I’m worried about my brother, yes, but I can’t let this be a constant priority that weighs on my mind.

Yui: You’re right. As long as Shin-kun’s fine, I think it would be better to find an escape route first too.

Kino: Aight, it��s unanimous.

— I want to know how to escape♡

Yui: I think it would be best to find a way to escape from here first as well. Maybe Carla-san’s memory will come back once we escape.

Shin: Right? It wouldn’t make sense if we meaninglessly return home without all of their memories coming back to them. We, Kino and everyone else.

Yes, that would be a reason to postpone my brother. This is what we should aim for in the future...

Yui: (He’s speaking to us as if he’s entirely trying to convince himself about this)

(Maybe Shin-kun really wants to go and actually see Carla-san as soon as possible)

(I can’t get this feeling of them wanting to desperately kill us off either though…)

It’ll be fine, Shin-kun. I’m sure this won’t last too long anymore.

Shin: Yes, it’ll be fine. I know that.

Alright, unanimity agreed to it then.

Yui: Yes.

Kino: Okey-doke.

end Choices

Shin: That’s settled then.

Kino: I guess he’ll be able to manage his memory somehow or another. If I could go back to my original house, Yuri would probably help me for sure.

Yui: Yuri-san?

Kino: He’s my loyal servant. As soon as I get home from here, I’ll let him do some research in order to restore your brother's memory.

Shin: Yes, that would help a lot.

Kino: But, y’know… Even if we’re looking for an escape route, we have to first of all figure out how we were brought to this place

Shin: It’s worse, especially since we know nothing about this place. If there are at least any hints somewhere...

Yui: That’s true. It was also one of the reasons we went into each of the mansions...

Shin: Seriously, did you notice anything?

Yui: What I noticed—

*flashbacks*

Yui: Ah! Speaking of that—

Shin: What?

Yui: Each of the mansions had the exact amounts of chess pieces on their chess boards

Shin: Now that you mention it, I do think I noticed one standing in the living room of the Orange mansion once...

Kino: Ah, there was also one in Scarlet’s mansion.

Yui: I remember there was also one in the Violet mansion. Besides, the floor of the church also has a checkered pattern of black and white marble—

Kino: Like a chessboard.

Yui: Yes!

Shin: I see. But what exactly does this have to do with this? Both are probably just there as decorations.

Kino: No, I doubt that it’s just for decoration… I see now.

Yui: Kino-kun, did you figure something out?

Kino: I wouldn’t call it “figure”. It’s just that I thought of something...

We were forcibly dumbed off in this unknown place and also got a fake memory. In my opinion, this all seems as if it’s definitely someone’s work.

Shin: So you’re saying there’s a mastermind?

Kino: Exactly. If there’s an ongoing game, there also has to be a mastermind behind it.

Us, as the players, were given those hints to probably keep this as interesting as we can.

Shin: Hah? In other words— ...Nn!

Yui: Shin-kun? What’s wrong? Why did you suddenly stand up?

*Shin sniffs air*

Shin: Hnff

Damn it! We’re surrounded!

Yui: Eh… !?

Ayato: Guess we finally found you, traitors!

Kanato: You did terrible things to us, remember? There is no way we would let you kidnap Eve and then join hands with the enemy—

Yui: (Ayato-kun! Kanato-kun! And—)

Ruki: —Shin, I get it now…

I would’ve never expected for my most trusted person to end up betraying me as simple as that.

Shin: Ru… Brother…

Ruki: A traitor, such as yourself, has no right to call me his brother any longer!

Yui: ...Nn!

Shin: It’s useless even if I’ll try to explain. But I never intended to look as if I was about to betray you or anything, I swear.

I know you were a good brother, even if you’ve never been my real older brother in the end...

Ruki: I’ve got no idea about what strange things you’re blabbering, yet the confirmation of you being here is fact enough.

It doesn’t change the situation, even if you start coming up with excuses.

Ayato: Hey, Ruki! Let’s take these guys out quickly!

Kanato: That’s right. Let’s rightfully punish them. I’ll tear them into pieces once I get my hands around them.

Yui: (What should we do now? If we’re doing nothing, they’ll start a battle—! Am I really not able to somehow avoid this?)

Kino: Shin, what do we do?

Shin: The only ones with fighting skills are you and me. It would be 3 vs 2...

Kino: Besides, it would be a battle while we’d also have to try to protect the girl from being taken away from us.

Yui: (What should I do… I’m holding them back from what they have to do because I’m with them)

Shin: We have no choice, seems as if we really have to confront our problems head-on and fight them.

Kino: Eh? That’s not true. If you transform yourself into a wolf, you could carry her and easily run away.

Shin: Hah? I can’t just do that!

Kino: ...Why not? Do you really have to complain about my strategy now?

Shin: My back is limited to only giving one of you a ride! I don’t know if you’d be able to get away without me helping you!

Kino: ...Nn!! What… why would you say something like that…

*Kino mumbles*

Kino: Ahh… I guess I have no choice but to save you as a repayment now too.

Yui: ….. ?

Shin: So instead of running away, I’d like to break through this in our own ways...

Kino: No, we’re gonna avoid confronting them head-on and not fight them. We’re changing strategies.

Shin: Hah? Why change them so late...

Kino: Ready? When I’ll give you the signal, you have to run.

Shin: Eh? What do you mean?

Kino: With this, we’ll easily be able to get away right in front of them… you guys, close your eyes and noses!

*Kino throws something*

Ayato: What the!? What did he throw!?

Kanato: A pouch… ?

Ruki: ...Nn! That’s not just a mere pouch. Close your eyes and hold your breath!

*pouch explodes*

Kanato: Ahem, Ahem, Ahem

Ayato: Ngh! What’s going on here!? I can’t see shit anymore! Ahem, Ahem.

Ruki: Kch… Ayato, Kanato can you see the enemy?

Ayato: Don’t bullshit me! I can’t see anything!

Shin: Damn, that guy’s really something. But he saved us! We only have to run away now!

Yui: (Shin-kun’s voice!)

Where? Where are you? I can’t see anything!

Shin: Over here!

*Shin grabs Yui*

Yui: (The one holding my hand right now… it’s Shin-kun!)

Kino: Hurry, both of you!

Yui: (I also heard Kino-kun’s voice. I’m sure I’ll be fine as long as I follow the sound of their voices— !)

Place: Outside — Forest

Yui: Haa… Haa… Haa—

Shin: Haa… Haa…

Kino: Haa, Haa…

Shin: Kino, what was that about?

Kino: It was a wheat bomb.

Yui: Huh!?

Kino: I secretly made it when we were in the Violet mansion back then. All I did was wrap the smoldering wheat in a cloth, get it?

Shin: And you really made that yourself? You’re an unexpectedly shrewd guy.

Yui: Thanks to that, we were saved! Thank you, Kino-kun!

Kino: I have to admit… I’d love to hear you praise me more, but we have to worry about running away first!

Yui: (Seriously, it’s all thanks to Kino-kun that we’re safe right now. He’s a really good person after all)

#Diabolik Lovers #diabolik lovers translation #chaos lineage translation #chaos lineage #diabolik lovers chaos lineage translation #diabolik lovers chaos lineage #shin tsukinami #tsukinami shin #kino sakamaki #kino diabolik lovers #diabolik lovers kino #Komori Yui #shin tsukinami chaos lineage translation #diabolik lovers shin tsukinami #Diabolik Lovers game

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elijahs-wife · 3 years

Text

butterflies

requested by @lessons-you-taught: “first of all, I love love love your writing. as much as I love Elijah Mikaelson, I'd love to read a fluffy imagine with Klaus where the reader wants to get her nails done so bad. him being the artiste he is, decides to do some fun, cute nail art for her. like "i'm the big bad alpha, I can do anything" so, he actually gets so obsessed over doing it for her that he plans what to do and paints it so perfectly. the result is super cute.” thank you for requesting this and also for the lovely compliments!! i’m not sure how good it is but i didn’t want to make it overly fluffy and ooc, but i had fun writing it so i hope you like it 💘

pairing: klaus mikaelson x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

warnings: not canon, mention of a pandemic, fluff (?), klaus is a cocky bastard

a/n: these nails are the ones i was inspired by!! i think the tiny header looks good, i might do it for more of my fics. also, this is set in the early months of the pandemic. like and reblog this if you enjoy it <3

my masterlist

The past month had been such a rollercoaster for you, what with getting used to working from home, not being able to go outside and dealing with this pandemic-induced cabin fever. You were beyond glad that Klaus had been there the entire time to keep you sane; as soon as lockdown had been announced in NOLA, he'd insisted that you come and stay at the compound with him and his family, saying that you would be safer with him—although he would later admit that it was mostly because he didn't want to go for weeks without seeing you.

After getting into the swing of staying at home, you had gotten much more productive with your newfound free time, trying out hobbies like baking, learning how to play Elijah's piano, even knitting (Klaus laughed very hard at that one—you had only managed to make half a scraggly scarf before giving up out of boredom) but today, you weren't feeling it at all. All you wanted to do was go outside and indulge in a little superficial self-care and get your nails done. Your natural nails had grown much stronger and reached a nice length, so you had filed them into a pretty, almond shape. However, you were absolutely rubbish at painting them yourself, which you attributed to having the shakiest hands on Earth.

Staring at the Pinterest board open on your phone that showed you pictures of all the gorgeous nails that you couldn’t have, you walked into you and Klaus' shared bedroom where he was seated on a futon, silently sketching. None of the shops in the Quarter were open, let alone a nail spa. With an exaggerated sigh, you flopped onto the mattress, making your boyfriend momentarily glance up from his sketchbook. "What's got you in a huff?" he asked, directing his gaze back to the pencil and paper in his hands.

"I want to do this pretty design on my nails, but my lack of artistic skill doesn't permit me to actually do it," you pouted, staring at your screen wistfully. You had Klaus’ attention now—he was staring at you, looking unusually thoughtful for a few moments before setting his sketch down and walking over to you. “Let me have a look at it, then,” he said, sitting next to you on the bed and waiting expectantly, although you weren’t quite sure for what. You showed him the picture; nude-coloured nails with an orangey-red butterfly pattern on them. You ached to see them on yourself.

He nodded lightly and handed your phone back to you, saying “Alright, I can paint your nails for you.” You stared at him for a while, not knowing if he was being sincere or not, but there was no sign of a joke on his face—he was dead serious, and you couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a laugh that was a little too loud for his liking. The mere thought of Klaus using nail polish, even if it wasn’t on himself, was so bizarre. “What’s so amusing?” His brow was furrowed, lips stretched in a thin, straight line.

Trying your best to swallow the rest of your giggles, you replied, “I’m sorry, it’s just… you don’t seem like the type to paint his girlfriend’s nails. At all. Are you sure you can do this?” The slight frown on his face melted away and was replaced by a quick eye roll and a chortle. “Sweetheart, I’m an artist. I can paint on actual canvas—one of my paintings is hanging in the Hermitage right now, for crying out loud. I think I can handle a few bloody butterflies on a fingernail.”

“Yeah, but oil paints and nail polish are two drastically different mediums,” you retorted; the corners of his mouth turned up into his usual, devilish smirk, his eyes twinkling with the kind of confidence that only came with a massive ego. “I’m the Klaus Mikaelson, love. There’s nothing that I can’t do.”

You snorted derisively, but then raised both hands in mock surrender, “Alright, alright, you can give it a go,” you conceded. “It had better be gorgeous though, after all that ‘I’m the Klaus Mikaelson’ crap you just spewed.” You deepened your voice comically to imitate him before you burst out laughing.

He rolled his eyes again, but you didn’t miss the soft chuckle that left his raspberry lips.

***

You were sitting at the small desk that was previously in the very corner of the room, that was now near the window—Klaus moved it there, for lighting reasons, he said—while he grabbed his thinnest paintbrushes from his supply. He needed to make fine lines when painting those butterflies. It didn’t take very long, he was sitting opposite you in a few minutes. You had brought all the bottles of nail polish that he would need, and he was ready to get started.

He blew through the clear base coat and the pinkish-nude nail polish in no time, using only a few swipes to cover the entire nail bed with such precision and neatness that if you hadn’t known better, you would have thought he was a manicurist in a previous life. “How am I doing so far?” he smirked, while you both waited for your nails to dry. Stretching your arm out to look at them from a distance, you nodded approvingly, “You’ve done very well,” you admitted as he gave you a smug grin. “Don’t get cocky now, Klaus,” you advised him, “you still have the pattern to paint on.”

Smiling, he picked up the finest paintbrush that was on the table. “Let me show you my artistic skill,” he said, and started work, using black nail polish to draw the outline of the butterfly. He worked in total silence, his face completely still with concentration, eyes trained on the strokes of the bristles—and he worked fast. His talents would never fail to amaze you, apparently. It felt like no time at all had passed by and he was already filling in the colours of the wings. You watched him in awe as he painted the red in with just a few expert flicks of his wrist, and he was done.

“Okay, I am never doubting your skills again,” you said, examining the very pretty butterflies that were now frolicking on your nails, “this looks incredible.” You felt him kiss the top of your head—you couldn’t even draw your eyes away from the masterpiece—as he murmured a thank you, before heading back to his futon and sketchpad. “Wait!” you exclaimed, and he turned back to face you. “How did you even do that so quickly? You took like, what, ten minutes tops?”

The twinkle in his eyes returned, and he couldn’t stop the impish grin on his face. “I told you, love, I’m the Klaus Mikaelson. There’s nothing I can’t do.”

#klaus mikaelson #klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson imagine #klaus mikaelson fluff #the originals fanfic #the originals fanfiction

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hotpinkhoshi · 3 years

Text

kiss it better | five

pairing: mark tuan x reader

genre: angst, eventual smut, brother’s best friend au (sort of)

warnings: tw for death, death of a parent, reference to drug addiction

word count: 4.5k

summary: you were off limits for more reasons than mark could count. but everything changed for him the day you walked into his tattoo shop with those big innocent eyes and a laugh like his favorite song. he couldn’t. he wouldn’t. and yet…

a/n: hi babies thank you for your patience, i know it’s been many many months since i’ve updated! the last time i posted for kib was all the way back in may, which is crazy, i know. but life has been weird and it’s been difficult for me to find the motivation to write. it’s slowly coming back for me and i’m so glad you guys have stuck around with me even if i haven’t been consistent. i’m more grateful than you know!

✩ index here ✩

“She did what?” Dahyun asked, her bite of gimbap nearly falling right out of her mouth.

Youngjae threw his head back and broke into laughter entirely at Mark’s expense.

Mark ran his tongue over his teeth and refused to look up at his friends, focusing awfully hard on the sketch he’d been working on in between appointments. He quickly realized that they had absolutely no sympathy for him.

“Yeah.”

It had been two weeks already since that night, and Mark was just now feeling comfortable enough to spill what had happened after he took you home. He liked to take his own time to process his thoughts before he revealed them to others, and quite frankly, he hadn’t even wanted to tell anyone. But he was starting to think maybe he needed an outside perspective.

“She has guts,” Youngjae said, after finally pulling himself upright in his chair. “Was it good?”

“Dude,” Mark warned, far from amused.

Dahyun cut in. “It’s a good enough question. From what I’ve seen, you guys have some intense sexual tension. If the kiss was hot, maybe it’s worth exploring.”

“We don’t have sexual tension,” Mark defended.

Youngjae snorted.

“Sure. But, let’s say if you did, and the kiss was good…” Dahyun trailed off, wiggling her eyebrows.

Groaning, Mark tapped the end of his pencil against the desk. He glanced up at the wall, his eyes naturally drawn to the photo of your shoulder, of the tattoo he’d designed and permanently inked onto your skin. It wasn’t the only photo he had pinned up of his previous work, but it was the one he looked at the most.

“She’s a kid,” he said, little to no conviction in his voice.

But you weren’t a kid. Mark knew in every way, you were an adult. Even mentally, emotionally, you seemed more mature than he felt most days. Packing up your belongings because you refused to live a life you weren’t satisfied with? He couldn’t imagine anything more grown up than that.

“Mark,” Youngjae’s tone was firm, serious this time. “It’s not the worst thing in the world if you have chemistry with someone. I know it may not be the most convenient girl for you, but… you’ve been by yourself for a long time. You can’t tell me you aren’t lonely.”

He hadn’t thought he was lonely until you came into his life. He had been fine, so fine, living on his own. Waking up alone, eating dinner alone, focusing on his work and living one day to the next.

But now, he looked forward to the sound of your keys in the door when you got home from your evening shift. He bought your favorite brand of orange juice instead of his. He didn’t mind watching outlandish and obviously fake reality shows if it meant that he got to hear your commentary along with it. More than anything, he’d gotten used to the way you made him feel. In the simplest of terms, he was happy.

“It doesn’t matter,” Mark said. “I already fucked it up.”

Dahyun narrowed her eyes. “What did you do?”

He rubbed some of the tension out of his forehead, relaying the conversation he’d had with Taehyung that night to his friends. The exchange wasn’t longer than a few minutes, but it was long enough for Mark to potentially ruin everything you’d built for yourself in the last couple of months.

“I didn’t tell him everything - I couldn’t do that. But I told him I’d seen her in the city, that I thought maybe she worked in one of the restaurants near the shop…” A knot of guilt coiled in his stomach. “Fuck.”

He’d just wanted to do the right thing. You were young, you couldn’t see that your parents cared about you. Taehyung cared about you. They deserved to know where you were, especially after everything they had done for him. He could at least point them in the right direction.

“Well, shit,” Youngjae offered, a sympathetic frown on his face.

“I fucked her over, and I haven’t been able to look her in the eye since. We’ve just avoided each other for the last two weeks and I-” Mark heaved a breath, leaning back in his chair. “I hate it.”

He missed you. Even if he couldn’t say it out loud.

“I have an idea,” Dahyun said, her whole body perking up. “Don’t look at me like that, sometimes I have good ideas. Why don’t you invite her along for Yugyeom’s camping trip?”

“You mean the couple thing?”

Dahyun sighed. “It’s not a couple thing. It’s just… everyone there is part of a couple. Anyway, it might be a good way to make things less awkward.”

Mark blinked a few times, waiting for Dahyun to say ‘just kidding’ because it was an absolutely ridiculous idea. “What? How would that make things any less awkward?”

She shrugged. “I mean, it’s a great opportunity to break the tension. If you know what I mean.”

“Oh, fuck off,” Mark scowled.

You spent your entire shift thinking about Mark. Thinking about how you had completely messed up your relationship, and trying to figure out how to fix it all. It had been a stupid, drunken mistake, and you would take it back in a heartbeat if you could.

The past two weeks had been torture, tiptoeing around and trying your hardest to avoid him. You’d picked up extra shifts almost every day, figuring that if you were working, at least you didn’t have to pretend like everything was normal.

All you wanted was to come home, curl up on the couch with Milo and watch your favorite ridiculous TV shows while Mark snickered next to you, entertained by the disgustingly wealthy families on the screen no matter how much he pretended to hate it. You wanted to be able to lean into him, feel the body heat radiating off of him when his shoulder brushed yours.

You missed Mark. Even if you couldn’t say it out loud.

After much debating, you decided that the best way to apologize started with food. And you owed him, anyway, after he opened his home to you and let you stay there free of charge. A dinner was the least you could do.

You could tell once you walked into Paradise Tattoo just before closing time that Mark hadn’t been expecting you in the slightest. He was at the desk, going over papers with Dahyun, when the bell dinged to signal your entrance.

In his ripped jeans and muscle tee, all of his tattoos were on display for you, even the large quote he had inked onto his ribcage. You gulped and shoved your feelings down. That would only make things worse.

“Hi,” you said, greeting both Mark and Dahyun.

“Hey.” Mark scratched his head and straightened his posture. “What are you doing here?”

“Well,” you started, wringing your hands in front of you. “I wanted to see if you wanted to get dinner? On me. I owe you, anyway.”

Dahyun piped up, a mischievous smirk on her lips, “That’s a great idea. Mark was just talking about how hungry he was.

Mark cleared his throat and shot his co-worker what looked suspiciously like a glare. “No, I’m fine. You really don’t have to-”

“Come on,” you said, hiding a smile. “How about burgers? There’s a good place around the corner. It won’t kill you to let me pay, will it?”

You could see Mark weigh his options as he chewed his lip. Either end up hungry, settling for some quick frozen food later on, or bite the bullet and let you pay for his dinner. You knew it would hurt his pride to do so, but you wouldn’t back down. It was more than just the free room and board that you wanted to make up for.

“Alright,” he finally agreed. “Let me grab my stuff.”

It only took less than ten minutes for you to walk down to the burger place, but it felt like an hour as awkward silence hung around the two of you. It wasn’t until you were both seated at a corner booth inside the restaurant that you finally spoke up.

“Listen, Mark,” you said, looking up from the packet of ketchup you’d been nervously squishing between your fingers. “About that night…”

“No, you don’t-” Mark was quick to interrupt, but you held your hand up.

“Just let me, okay?” You sighed.

You’d rehearsed these words countless times in the bathroom mirror, and right now it felt like they were slipping right out of your fingers. Where were you supposed to start? With the kiss, straight away? Or getting so drunk that you’d needed to be taken care of in the first place?

“I’m just… really sorry. I was stupid to drink that much and it’s not your job to watch after me. I should be able to take care of myself.”

Mark stopped you again. “I didn’t mind taking care of you.”

“But it’s not your job, Mark. I’m an adult, and you’re letting me stay with you and asking for nothing in return. The least I could do is make it easy on you.”

“Y/N, if you could have seen me at your age, you wouldn’t feel so bad. We all get drunk and stupid sometimes,” Mark said with a shrug. It almost relieved some of your guilt until you remembered the kiss in the bathroom.

“Well...” You shook your head and looked back down at your hands. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him for this one. “I really shouldn’t have ki-”

“Hi! My name’s Lana, I’ll be your server tonight. Can I get you two something to drink while you look over the menus?”

A cheerful brunette appeared in front of you, a pen behind her ear and a wide grin plastered on her face. You glanced at Mark, then up at your waitress, not sure if you were grateful for the interruption or not.

“Um, can I just have a water?” you asked, voice small and uncomfortable in your throat.

“Same for me,” Mark agreed.

“Perfect! Let me know if you have any questions about the menu!”

You let out a long breath before you were able to look at Mark again. He was biting his cheek, his lips all twisted and holding back a laugh.

“What?” you asked.

“Her timing,” Mark got out, just as he let go of his laughter, throwing his head back.

To your own surprise, you found yourself shaking with laughter as well. Either from Mark’s contagious laugh giggle or the simple ridiculousness of the situation. Here you were, in a burger restaurant, apologizing to your older brother’s best friend for kissing him while you were heavily intoxicated.

You covered your face with your hands to suppress your own laughter, letting your back slump against the cushions of the booth. It all came to you then, just how silly you’d been the last two weeks.

“I am sorry, though,” you said, after you both settled down.

Mark’s eyes glinted as he watched you from across the table, the ghost of a smile still on his lips. “It’s alright. I mean it. Last time I was that drunk, I’m pretty sure I ran around the block in my underwear singing the Canadian national anthem.”

You giggled again at the mental image. “What? How did you even-”

“No idea. It’s like I was possessed by a drunk Canadian mischief demon.”

It was strange to imagine Mark and Taehyung in their teen years, since you’d been so young at the time, you could barely remember anything from that time of your life. You remembered Taehyung wearing the same pair of purple skinny jeans for three months because a girl at school had told him she liked them.

You remembered Taehyung letting you sit in the basement in your favorite cushioned chair while he and Mark played video games on the big screen. It had been your favorite place to read then, tuning out the rambunctious cries of defeat while you got lost in other worlds.

“So we’re okay, then?” you asked, after Lana had come back to take your order and left once more.

Mark nodded, a genuine smile on his lips. “We’re okay.”

“Maybe it’s weird, but…” you began, staring down at the wrapped silverware on the table instead of looking Mark in the eye. “Even though I grew up seeing you as Taehyung’s friend, that feels like a lifetime ago. And now I just kind of see you as… my friend. Like somebody I can trust.”

When you finally looked up at Mark, his expression was unreadable. His bottom lip was between his teeth, but his eyes looked somewhat uncomfortable. You worried for a second that you’d crossed a line.

“I owe a lot to your family,” Mark said after another long moment passed.

Even though you didn’t remember much about Mark from your childhood years, you knew his upbringing had been rough. His parents had been addicts, the kind that never should’ve been together, let alone bring a child into the world.

You’d never met his mom, but your own mother had made enough snide comments about her after Mark had gone home for you to understand just what kind of person she was.

“One of those low life, worthless drug addicts. Sleeping around with anyone that can help her out, if you know what I mean. Never should’ve been a mother.”

She had a funny way of showing her compassion sometimes.

Taehyung brought him over once after school and your mother had gotten one look at his threadbare clothes and hollow cheeks and taken him in as her new project. At first, he ate dinner with your family almost every night, and then she started making Taehyung pass over his any extra clothes he’d gotten that didn’t fit properly or that he simply didn’t like.

Mark did owe a lot to your family.

You didn’t know what to say. You’d been so young there was no way you could take credit for anything your parents had done for Mark, but still, you itched to comfort him. Even now, with the unsaid words lingering in the air, you sensed that he had never been able to fully open up to anybody. Though you didn’t deserve it, you wanted to be the first.

“Your mom,” you found yourself saying. “Is she…?”

Mark shook his head. “She’s gone. Passed away a couple years ago.”

Your face fell. If anything, you had expected her to have taken off for good or maybe gotten into some trouble she couldn’t get herself out of, but you hadn’t expected her to be gone.

“Oh, god, Mark. I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

To your surprise, he only lifted his shoulders in a shrug. “I hadn’t seen her in a long time before that. Maybe two, three years. Then my aunt showed up on my doorstep with a box of her things and told me she OD’d in a gas station parking lot a week before.”

His voice wavered only slightly, but enough to tell you he cared more than he let on. You could only imagine how painful it would be to hear of your own mother’s passing a week after the fact.

“I’m sorry,” you said again.

Mark shook his head. “Don’t be. It’s weird,” he said, tongue running over his lower lip as he paused. “I’d stopped seeing her as my mother so long ago that… I felt like I’d already mourned her death. Fuck, that sounds bad, doesn’t it?”

“No,” you answered as you reached across the table, fingers laying across the back of Mark’s hand. “It doesn’t. At all.”

A moment passed between the two of you. You caught Mark’s eyes glancing down at your hand resting on his skin, but he made no move to avoid your touch.

“I never even went through her things. The box is just sitting at the back of my bedroom closet collecting dust.”

“Do you want to go through her things?” you asked.

Mark paused, chewing at the inside of his lip before he answered. “I don’t know.”

You nodded, somehow understanding exactly what he meant. Though you hadn’t gone through the same thing, you were familiar with avoiding a potentially painful and uncomfortable situation by simply pretending it didn’t exist. Hence why you had four unopened voicemails from your brother and parents.

You found yourself stroking the back of Mark’s hand with your thumb. It didn’t feel wrong to touch him like this, even though maybe it should have. All you wanted was to bring him a shred of the comfort he had deserved to have for much longer than you’d known him.

“Alrighty, and here we’ve got the bacon cheeseburger and sweet potato fries for the lady,” Lana exclaimed, immediately bursting your bubble as she returned to your table with your food balanced on a tray. You were quick to snatch your hand from Mark’s. “And a BBQ cheddar burger with curly fries for the handsome man.”

You didn’t miss the way Lana winked as she placed Mark’s food in front of him. This girl was not getting a generous tip from you, that was for sure.

“I told you, after that depressing dinner conversation, we need to do something fun,” you told Mark as you carried your skincare basket out from the bathroom into the living room.

“And this is fun for who?”

You threw him a playful glance and plopped down onto the floor in front of the couch on your knees, setting your basket on the cushion and sifting through it.

“Both of us. Just trust me.”

Catching the skeptic look on Mark’s face, you could only grin to yourself as you pulled out a tube of your favorite clay mask. He didn’t know just how relaxing a good face mask could be, but you were willing to show him.

“I’ll even go first,” you told him.

Mark lifted his feet to prop them up on the coffee table as Milo curled up like a tiny ball of cotton on his lap. You’d both changed out of your work clothes into comfy clothes, and you couldn’t help noticing how warm Mark looked in his white joggers and oversized black hoodie. You wouldn’t mind snuggling up into that space between his side and the couch cushion…

You sighed and shook your head, attempting to clear the less-than-platonic thoughts from your mind. If you were going to make this friendship work, you would need to stop thinking about him like that. Immediately.

“Can I ask you something?” Mark said after a beat of silence as you popped open the cap to your mask.

“Hm?” you asked, propping your personal sized makeup mirror on the couch so that you could see yourself while you applied your mask.

“Yugyeom’s family has a yearly pass to this campground, and every year he does this weekend camping trip…” he trailed off for a moment and you forced yourself not to react, instead focusing on applying your charcoal mask to your cheeks. “This year, it somehow ended up as a couple thing, so Dahyun suggested I invited a friend along. So…”

Lifting your eyes from your own reflection, you watched as Mark struggled to finish his thought.

“So…” you said, helping him along. “Are you asking me to come with you?”

Immediately, a neon flashing red alarm screeched in your mind. ‘This is a terrible idea! You must say no!’ it screamed.

“Only if you want to. I mean, it’s a cool place. Their lot is right by this swimming hole and there’s a fire pit, so we normally bring a ton of booze and cook our own food over the fire…”

Mark ran his fingers through his deep red locks of hair, his nerves displayed clearly on his face. You weren’t sure why he was so nervous to ask you, but it came off as incredibly endearing. Despite the warnings blaring in your mind, you found yourself nodding.

“Okay.”

Mark looked at you then, his eyes finally locking on yours, and the corner of his lips lifted in a hopeful smile. “Really?”

You couldn’t help grinning as well. “Yeah. I mean, on one condition…”

“Oh?”

“Mhm,” you replied, holding up the mask tube and popping the cap back open. “You let me put this mask on you.”

“Aish,” Mark said and shook his head. “No way. Not worth it.”

“Oh, come on, you big baby!”

You stood from the floor and climbed onto the couch, crawling to his side and squeezing some of the mask onto your index and middle fingers. “It’s not that bad!”

“Get away from me!” Mark exclaimed with a laugh, dodging your fingers. Milo hopped up onto the arm of the couch, stomping his cute little paws a few times.

“Just let me pamper you, Mark!”

He let out another laugh, louder this time, trying to reach for the mask to steal from your grasp, but he wasn’t fast enough. You giggled, ducking to miss his hands as he grabbed for your wrists.

Somehow, you found yourself straddling him, thighs resting on either side of Mark’s waist.

“Real men wear face masks!” you exclaimed with a shout of victory as you finally managed to smear a good amount of the clay mask across Mark’s left cheek.

“Oh, you little-” he replied, hands reaching for your sides underneath the long sleeved shirt you were wearing. He tickled your sides, a joyful laugh falling from his lips when you started squealing.

Milo yapped a few times from the arm of the chair, presumably because he thought that you were hurting Mark or vice versa, but his protective barks only made you laugh harder.

“Mark! Stop it!”

You gasped for breath, wriggling on top of him and dropping the mask tube, fighting between giggling and trying to swat his hands away.

“It’s what you deserve, you sneak,” he said, his hands still squeezing and tickling your sides, unknowingly drifting further up your shirt to your ribs.

Twisting and turning, you finally managed to grab his wrists and yanked them from under your shirt. You held them firmly in between your bodies, even though he could have easily overpowered you.

Your chest heaved up and down with the last of your giggles. Mark stared up at you, still smiling and out of breath. The air suddenly became thick as you held eye contact, your hands falling from his wrists to his chest.

“Y/N,” Mark whispered.

‘Danger! Danger!’ your mind yelled.

Mark’s hands, now free from your hold, landed on your hips. You felt his thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt, stroking the bare skin of your stomach. Your heart pounded beneath your rib cage at his gentle touch.

“Mark,” you said, intending on telling him to stop, but it quickly died in your throat.

His chin tipped up, making you realize just how close you were to him now. You weren’t sure who had leaned in first, but only a few mere inches separated your lips from his now. If you only bent forward a bit, you could…

It reminded you, all of the sudden, of the kiss in the bathroom. It had been quick, but long enough for you to slide your tongue past his lips. You remembered the shock to your system the moment you had felt the cold metal of a tongue piercing.

“Y/N,” Mark said again. “Tell me to stop.”

His voice was quiet but you felt like you could read between the lines. He didn’t want to stop, and the only way he was going to stop was if you made it clear that you didn’t want this.

But you did. You’d wanted it from the moment he ran his fingers over the tattoo he’d inked onto your skin one of those first nights, a soft ghost of a touch that made goosebumps form on every inch of your skin.

You weren’t stupid, you knew that this was all wrong for a variety of reasons, the least of which being that he was your roommate. But that meant nothing to you compared to the way his hands felt on your skin.

Before you could open your mouth, tell him that you didn’t want him to stop, an 8-bit version of the Mario Kart theme blasted from somewhere behind you. You jumped, your heart skipping several beats from the surprise.

Mark took in a deep breath and let it out slowly, blinking a few times before he gently guided your hips to climb off of him. “Sorry, I should…”

The ringtone felt familiar but you couldn’t figure out why. Even as you watched Mark grab for his phone off the coffee table and immediately silence it, you wracked your brain to try and remember where you had heard that ringtone before.

It was as if Taehyung had known, the moment that Mark quieted the little voice in his head telling him not to be so close to you and that this was wrong in so many ways, and finally accepted his feelings for you.

Maybe he had a sixth sense.

The moment that had passed between you then had been effectively ruined as soon as he was reminded of two things: you were his childhood best friend’s little sister, and he had already ruined your life even if you didn’t know it yet.

But he’d been so close to giving in. You’d been on top of him, smiling in that innocently beautiful way that you did, your thighs caging in his hips. He hadn’t missed the fact that he could feel you with every inch of him, considering how he’d begged his body not to react, not to harden beneath you. Between the thin layers of his sweats and your sleep shorts, there was no way you wouldn’t notice.

Later, after you’d grabbed a washcloth so you could both wipe the face mask off your faces and awkwardly watch TV for an hour before enough time could pass for you to realistically head off to bed, Mark listened to the voicemail Taehyung had left.

“Hey man. I just wanted to let you know that uh, I’m going to try and head to the city and look for Y/N in a few weeks. If you see her again or have any idea where she might be, let me know. I really appreciate it, my mom’s been going crazy… anyway, maybe we can grab a drink or something once I’m in town. I’ll hit you up. Thanks again, Mark.”

Mark was glad he was in the privacy of his own bedroom when he listened to the message so you didn’t see the way he threw his phone down on the bed, muttering curse words to himself and trying to forget how heavenly you had felt on top of him.

It was impossible. All he could think about was your skin under his fingertips, how your lips had been so soft and smooth and close to his, and how the weight of you on top of him had been enough to make him hard.

His only option was to shut himself in the bathroom and crank the shower all the way to the coldest temperature that he could stand and pray that it would be enough to keep him from sneaking into your bedroom that night.

#mark tuan #got7creators #kibfic #got7 fanfic #mark tuan fanfic #mark tuan angst #mark tuan fluff #got7 mark #got7 imagine #writing

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hangovercurse · 3 years

Text

Blind Date

After being single for three months, your friends decide to set you and Colson up on a blind date.

Request: Hey!! Could you do one about the reader and Colson meeting by a blind date? Let your creativity go wild ❤️

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Cursing

A/N: This is a little bit different from how I normally write, so let’s see how this goes.

Word Count: 1916

It’s funny how the universe makes things happen. While some people are having their first kiss, others are taking their last breath. Every moment in time is so intricately woven together, it sometimes seems ironic how things happen.

Like tonight, on two sides of California, two very different people were having the same conversation.

“I’m not sure about this.”

“What if she thinks my tattoos are too much?”

“What if he thinks I’m too weird?”

“What if she hates music?”

“What if he hates art?”

“I don’t know if I’m ready for this.”

“I don’t think I can do this.”

Your best friend stared at you from your bed as you paced around the room. “Y/N, you’re going to be fine. You said it yourself, you need to get back out there. Baze says he’s a good guy, and I trust Baze.”

Baze was in a similar situation, laying on the couch as Colson paced around the house. “Colson, dude. It’s gonna be good, she’s gonna like you.”

“I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s not like I’ve never been on a first fuckin date before. I used to do this shit every night.” He sighed, sitting down.

You let out a frustrated groan, “I know. I just feel like after everything in the past few years I feel like I’ve forgotten how to do first dates.”

“You’re gonna be great, just be yourself. And remember, it’s a blind date, so if you guys don’t hit it off or something goes horribly wrong, you never have to see him again.” She smiled as you threw her a playful glare.

“Colson, I love you man, but you have to do this. I don’t think you’ve even looked at a woman who isn’t Ashleigh in like three months.”

The light-haired man sent his friend a glare, “I’m sorry that I was recovering from the worst heartbreak of my life.”

You finally sat down, pulling on your shoes. “Maybe it’s too soon. Maybe I’m not as ready as I thought I was.”

Your friend sighed, sitting up and placing her arms around your shoulders, “It’s been three months since you and T broke up. You grieved, and now you need to move on. You deserve this.”

“Dude, you said you were over her. You are over her. Now you get to find someone else and try to be happy. You deserve this.”

“Maybe don’t bring up your disastrous ex, Y/N.”

“But please, for the love of god, bro, don’t bring up Megan.”

You entered the small, classy restaurant, your hands shaking slightly. The entire place was dimly lit, with candles scattered around any surface available. You walked to the hostess stand, “Baker for two.” You told her, a small smile gracing your features.

She nodded, leading you through the floor. “He got here not 30 seconds before you did.” She laughed and you blushed a little bit.

You were grateful he wasn’t late, but you were also grateful he wasn’t extremely early , or else you would have felt awful for making him wait.

You were finally brought to a small table in the back of the restaurant to find one of the prettiest men you have ever laid your eyes on. When his eyes met yours, he stood up immediately, a smile on his face. “Y/N?” He asked.

“Colson.” You responded. He pulled your chair out for you, and you felt heat rushing to your cheeks at the kind gesture. None of the guys you had ever dated pulled your chair out for you, especially not your most recent ex.

“Baze told me you were pretty but this is…” He trailed off, seeming a bit lost for words. “You are absolutely gorgeous.”

He was good at this, good at making you nervous, making you blush like a teenager. “Thank you.” You whispered, “I think you are one of the prettiest people I have ever met.” You returned his compliment with one of your own.

The redness in his cheeks made you smile, a bit of pride rising in your chest. “Baze truthfully didn’t tell me much about you.” He started, “so, what do you do?” He was kicking himself for the lame question, but his mind was half occupied with the color of your eyes and he couldn’t form a coherent thought.

“I’m an artist.” You probably didn’t realize it, but Colson could see the slightest bit of a light in your eyes as you spoke about your passion. “I do graphic designing for websites, making logos and designs and such. That’s my day job, at least. I do some painting and sketching on the side, though. Eventually I’d like to be able to make that my whole job, but it is a hard industry.”

Colson nodded in understanding, his eyes holding the same weight as yours when you spoke of your flailing dreams. You wondered how he knew exactly what you were talking about.

Seemingly reading your mind, he answered. “I get that so much. I’m a musician, so I’ve been there. Luckily, I did make it my full-time job, but I remember before I made it, all the stress and struggles. It gets better.”

You smiled, “easy for you to say, aren’t you like, a big Rockstar?”

He chuckled, looking down, “yeah, sort of. But I wasn’t, you know? Like before all this I was dirt poor and the picture of a starving artist. I mean I’m still not like, winning Grammys or shit now, but I’m not there anymore either.”

You nodded, studying him. “I was lucky, I had support through art school and got a job as soon as I graduated. I’ve never had to struggle in that sense. I don’t think I’d be happy staying where I’m at for the rest of my life, but I am definitely in a stable place right now.”

He seemed so interested in what you were saying. Soon the conversation moved into the type of music he made, and then to your art styles. You flowed together easily, never becoming awkward or uncomfortable. As the night went on, your nerves fell away, as did his.

You were talking about your favorite movies when your food arrived, but even then, your conversation continued. At one point, he paused mid-second. ��You’ve got something, “ he pointed to his face. “Fuck it, this is gonna be so cheesy.” He grabbed his napkin and wiped the bit of sauce you had on your cheek off.

You blushed in embarrassment, “thanks.” He was right, the moment was very cheesy. His hand pulled away slowly, lingering near your skin a bit longer than necessary. You didn’t mind though.

As much as you hated to admit it, especially since you had only known him for one night, you could be really into him. And that scared the fuck out of you.

Colson was, too, scared shitless. Why the fuck was his heart fluttering every time you giggled. He’d just met you. But already he could tell you were something special.

He paid for dinner, like a gentleman, even though you protested. “It’s our first date, I am paying.”

You liked the way that he said, “first date,” implying there may be more. “Well, I guess I’ll just have to pay next time.” You said, smugly.

His eyebrow raised in question, a small smirk on his face. “We’ll see about that. I might just give them my card ahead of time.”

“Then I’ll just have to get there before you.”

You two laughed at your small competition as he led you to the parking lot, his hand in yours. “Did you drive?” He asked and you shook your head no.

“I called an uber. Speaking of…” You reached for your phone before he stopped you.

“Let me drive you home. If that’s okay?”

You let him lead you to his car, hand still tightly in his. He pulled the door open for you, guiding you in. Everything with him seemed like a new experience, his gentleman gestures catching you off guard.

“You should play me some of your music.” You told him when he got in. He smiled at that, pulling his phone out and opening his library.

“I don’t know if you’ll like the type of music I make.” He blushed, scrolling through to find a song he thought you might like.

You rolled your eyes, “well I like you so I think, by proxy, I’ll like your music.”

He bit his lip to hide the way his face lit up at your subtle confession. “Just don’t say that I didn’t warn you.”

You heard a somewhat familiar rhythm, something you had probably heard on the radio. “Wait, this is you? I swear I’ve heard this before.”

He smiled, glancing over at you before turning his attention back to the road. “Yeah, me and my friend Matt dropped this right before my last album release.”

You let the music play, listening to his voice as he sang. “You know, this somehow sounds exactly like you and nothing like you at the same time. Like if you hadn’t told me I don’t think I would’ve known this was you. But I do know so I can hear it.”

He chuckled but didn’t say anything, occasionally looking at you as you nodded your head to the music. A few more of his songs played from Tickets to My Downfall and you seemed to enjoy it. “You’re really good.” You commented. Your voice was truthful, you weren’t trying to flatter him, you were just saying what you thought. Your words were genuine.

He didn’t know why but hearing that from you meant so much more to him than he expected it to. He finally parked in front of your house, getting out and opening your door for you. Like a true gentleman, he walked you to your door, pausing before you unlocked it.

You turned to face him, looking up into his bright eyes. “I had a really good time tonight.” He said softly. “Probably the best night I’ve had in a while, honestly.”

You smiled widely, “I did too, Colson.” You grabbed his hands in yours, swinging them slightly. “I’m really glad we did this.”

He nodded, leaning closer to you, “would you, maybe, wanna do this again?” He asked, his voice falling closer to a whisper.

“I was hoping I had made that obvious when I said I’d pay next time.” You giggled, leaning up closer to him.

He rolled his eyes playfully, “just wanna make sure you didn’t change your mind.”

“Trust me, I didn’t.” You whispered, before leaning up and connecting your lips with his.

The kiss was short and sweet, but it seemed like everything you had ever wanted. When your lips left his, you both stayed very close to each other, hands still clasped. His face was still only inches from yours, eyes studying your every feature.

Eventually he let out a small sigh and leaned back up. “Well, uh, goodnight, Y/N.” He smiled sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck as he took steps backwards towards his car. You smiled at him, waving a small goodbye before turning to unlock your door.

Your hand touched the handle before you turned around, finding Colson in the same situation at his car door, still looking at you. “Do you maybe wanna… come in?” You asked, biting your lip. His face lit up, a smirk highlighting his features.

“I would love that.”

#mgk #mgk imagine #mgk angst #mgk fluff #machine gun kelly #machine gun kelly imagine #Colson baker #colson x reader #colson baker imagine #colson baker fluff #colson baker angst #colson imagine

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