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1kook · 3 years

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crunchyroll & rail

the 10th installment of my netflix & chill series !

SUMMARY Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. WARNINGS smut in the forms of making out, jk nipple play, some 69 action, cunnilingus, blowjobs, brief choking, jk trying his best to listen to oc but he doesn’t rlly :/, fingering, missionary bc his eyes are pretty, unprotected fuckin raw, its romantic but when is it not… MISC fluffy and domestic <3, weekend getaway <3, the Big Question, shy jk, sailor moon supremacy, jk makes this big elaborate speech about the sun and moon, mentions of 240p YouTube quality, RATING m (18+) WC 8.7k

NOTE (!) the smut in this chapter is relatively short ! I was more concerned with writing this monumental step in their relationship, so sorry to all the lads who come here specifically for the p0rn but today we focus on the l0ve <333 anyway nc 10!!!!! Can u fuckin believe….

Jungkook mentions it at the dinner table one night. You’re not eating— well, you are not eating; Jungkook has been stocking up on his protein intake like a madman —but finishing up some work you had brought home. Your back aches, your eyes burn. The mere sound of his soft voice has all those feel-good endorphins shooting through your nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. “We should take a trip,” he says, fork clattering against his plate to signify the end of his feast.

Your fingers tap across your keyboard, eyes flickering between an Excel sheet and the report you’re typing out. It takes you a moment to respond, a delayed, “huh,” that even Jungkook doesn’t find convincing.

In the background, you’re listening to what has to be one of the worst voiceovers of the original Sailor Moon series in a language you don’t even understand. But you know the series like the back of your hand, know what exactly is happening even if you don’t understand what they’re saying, because you’ve watched it only about a million times. It’s mostly just there for background purposes anyway, some white noise to try and replicate the noisy soundtrack of your office.

To make matters worse—complicated?—, you had been too lazy to get onto your usual pirating sites and had settled for the five minute, five part, 240p clips of Sailor Moon on YouTube (you know the ones), and Jungkook has to wait until Episode 74: Part ⅖ ends before you grace him with a proper response. “Where do you wanna go, baby?” you ask, giving your eyes a break from the data as you move to scour YouTube for Episode 74: Part 3/5.

He’s stretching back now, arms wound up above his head. His hair— god, his hair —is an ashy color now, a faded version of its golden ancestor from a few months ago. Soon, he’s planning on going back to brown, claims he’s getting too old to be dying his hair, whatever that means. For now, you watch his inked fingers run through his scalp; he looks delectable. Maybe you’re hungrier than you initially thought. Or at least thirstier. “A cabin,” he suggests, and he offers this little half shrug that would otherwise seem normal had you not been well-versed in the art of Jungkook Body Language. His front teeth nibble at his lip, eyes laser focused on his empty plate. Even now, he still gets nervous asking you out. That thought alone makes your ego soar as high as an airplane. “Just something small.”

Usually, “something small” with Jungkook ends up being something big and, in most cases, something expensive. Which you’re totally not opposed to— you’re at the point in your relationship where you don’t even bother trying to dissuade Jungkook from showering you with gifts. It’s one of his many, many, many, many forms of loving you and, well, he knows you like the back of his hand. He rarely misses.

Lo and behold, it is a grander affair than a simple cabin. “Well, it’s more like a resort,” he confesses, reaching across the table for your hand. Immediately, his thumb finds itself rubbing over the simple band of your promise ring. “Just wanna do something nice for you. I know you’ve been tired lately,” he adds on, voice a quiet murmur that nearly gets lost under the intensity of the pout that appears whenever he becomes even the slightest bit bashful.

You smile, the fondness in your heart skyrocketing to impossible heights when he lifts your hand to press those pretty petal lips against your knuckles. “Well, just let me know when,” you tell Jungkook. “So I can request time off from work.”

Episode 74: Part 3/5 starts playing after an ad, and you’d pause it for the sake of preserving this moment with Jungkook, but it’s hidden under so many tabs on your laptop that you lose it the second you leave the tab. Jungkook’s head tilts to the side, sending his ashy locks cascading beautifully. “You know that show is on Crunchyroll,” Jungkook says, seemingly moving past his bout of shyness now. “And you have the password.”

“Do I,” you murmur, but he’s lost you once more, your true talent of typing with one hand showing itself as you return to your Excel sheet, the other still firmly squeezed in his grasp. Jungkook releases soon enough anyway, cleans up the table quickly, and disappears off into the kitchen. He sings when he washes the dishes, likes to pretend he’s a terrible singer even though you’ve told him countless times he could easily take X Factor by storm. (And you know exactly what it takes to wow those judges— you spent the entire last month psychotically watching multiple X Factor seasons from multiple different countries, nearly considered joining the damn audition yourself.) The horribly dubbed Sailor Moon is yelling now, shrieking really, and Jungkook calls from the kitchen, “don’t forget to take your contacts out, sweetheart.”

It’s domestic and it's nerve-wracking.

You want Jungkook, that much is a fact. Aristotle and Socrates and that other guy could debate the philosophical intricacies of the world, turn this dimension in on itself until it was a scrambled mess of emotion and thought, but the one thing they could never change, could never even question, is your love for your boyfriend. You want Jungkook badly, but more importantly, you want Jungkook forever.

And you’re sure Jungkook probably, maybe, hopefully feels that way too. But the way you feel is… slightly concerning to say the least. For starters, you’re convinced your love for Jungkook was meant to be, and that’s saying a lot coming from you. You’re not one for cheesy, soulmate tales— that was more Jungkook’s thing —but the more you think about it, the more you become convinced that you and Jungkook were destined to meet. Like the planets aligned one year, the stars conferred, a tectonic plate somewhere in California shifted; whatever it may have been, something happened somewhere that led to the birth of this beautiful romance of yours.

Lately, being with Jungkook has this inexplicably fiery feeling blossoming in your chest, these waves of emotion that sometimes have you fantasizing about the weirdest of scenarios with him. Like yelling at him for not taking the garbage out on time, or bumping into each other as you make dinner in the kitchen, or buying a new rug together.

(Most drastically, the other day, you had a dream where you were pregnant and Jungkook was there and there was a house and a dog and an annoyingly friendly neighbor and this god-awful tile in the bathroom.)

Long story short, you’ve been fantasizing about a forever with Jungkook. The concerning part is the timing; was this too early? You’re nearly halfway through your second year with Jungkook now, and you know most people date for many, many years before the mere thought of union even occurs to them. In another life, maybe you were the same, would have held off until the very last moment. But with Jungkook things just feel right (at least for you), like there wasn’t going to be anyone else after him. And you sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be.

You slump back into your seat, eyes fluttering shut. Too many thoughts swirl around your mind, and the screech of the Sailor Moon voiceover on screen certainly doesn’t help. How you managed to spiral that far down your thoughts in the span of one 240p, five minute clip of a larger episode amazes even you. To add onto your worries, the clip abruptly ends and Episode 74: Part ⅘ is nowhere in sight, a fact that draws a frustrated moan out of the already sensitive you.

Luckily, Jungkook eventually returns, standing closely behind you. His presence is enormous, the room suddenly overflowing with a shit ton of those feel-good endorphins all over again, except this time they reach an all-time high when he leans over and quietly shuts your laptop. “Come sleep,” he says softly, and it’s a pleasant mixture of his genuinely caring voice and that horndog purr of his that lures you into bed. And it’s that same voice that croons softly into your ear, fingers nestled between your folds until you’re orgasming yourself into a deep slumber.

Much to no one’s surprise, the cabin turns out to be quite the luxurious lodging; two floors of dark oak everywhere you turn, a stunning stone fireplace in the bedroom, and a truly breathtaking view of the resort’s snowy hill (read: front row seats to watch all the snowboarders and skiers wipe out in the snow). Jungkook had splurged quite the pretty penny on it, so you make a point to clap it up for him when he first opens the door to your temporary home for the weekend.

The main bedroom is beyond words. It’s got an attached balcony (that you doubt you’ll be using in this chilly weather), and a wooden canopy bed that makes you feel like a royal (that you will certainly be using). It’s separated into two areas, the bed space and a tiny entertainment area on the other side of the room. Perhaps the best thing about the room— and the cabin itself —is the huge, smart TV mounted above said stone fireplace and the fact it allows the phone mirroring option in lieu of not having any streaming sites. And as is with every and anything to do with televisions, Jungkook is the most excited of the two of you. “Baby, look,” he beams, pointing excitedly at whatever he’s got mirrored onto the television this time. Knowing him, it’s probably another documentary.

You had the forethought to finish your work before the trip, spent two days in the office going absolutely ham on this month’s final reports until your department head promptly sent you home to finish the rest there. You had given yourself a fright upon entering the bathroom that night, the state of your under eyes so severe, you feared it was sufficient cause for a national emergency. Similarly, Jungkook had done the same with his work, cooped himself up in his study until he was free from the shackles of capitalism for the weekend. All this to say you’ve missed him these past few days.

But even though you’re sorely malnourished in the affection department and craving a good kiss or two, you wouldn’t dare interrupt one of Jungkook’s little nerdy, tech-induced fanboy moments. They’re cute, in their own geeky way, providing some insight to a mellower side of your boyfriend who looks on with childlike wonder; Jungkook’s eyes always get so big when he talks about nerdy stuff. You get to work hanging up the silk shirt he packed for tomorrow night’s fancy dinner at the resort, listening to some British narrator’s detailed description of the functionally extinct Northern white rhinos living under 24-hour surveillance in Kenya.

(Jungkook’s really into nature documentaries again, had spent a few nights sniffling as he watched that one Koko the gorilla film.)

The original plan was to head to the nearest store and whip up something small to eat at the cabin. But Jungkook is a little tired from the long drive, slumps down into the couch in front of the now lit fireplace like a limbless blob as he tunes into his documentary. His nose is a little red from the outside chill. It’s so cute. He’s so cute. You love him so much, you fear you’ll accidentally squeeze his cheeks to death. It’s a thought that occurs more times than you’d like.

According to the pamphlet on the nightstand, the resort has its own room-service to order from. Normally you would do that, but not this time; you had gotten into a bit of a squabble with the man at the front desk after he had tried to withhold Jungkook’s reservation for arriving two minutes past your check-in time, called each other all sorts of names before he backed down and gave you your room key. So you’re still a little salty, to say the least. Instead, you settle in for some pizza in front of the huge TV, calling up the nearest place to order some of Jungkook’s and your favorites.

You plop down beside him, instinctively cuddling closer when he wraps an arm around your shoulders. “So,” you start, flipping through the rest of the resort’s introductory pamphlet. There’s a loud roar on screen. In all honesty, you didn’t even know what Northern white rhinos sounded like until then, and you probably never would have if not for the man beside you. “What are you in the mood for tonight, sweet boy?”

You’re not sure if it’s the fatigue or the overall relaxed vibes he’d been exuding since the moment you entered the cabin, but Jungkook is weirdly cooperative today. “Whatever you want,” he responds, head on your shoulder. He even places the remote in your hands, gives your enclosed fist a gentle tap as if he’s just handed you the secret to eternal youth. In other words, it’s a rare sight to behold. “This is your trip, pretty girl.”

You appreciate the sentiment, but feel the need to clear the air, tucking your feet up onto the couch as you snuggle closer. “Our trip,” you clarify, and snatch the remote anyway before he changes his mind.

Jungkook releases a quiet huff of laughter, head rolling back against the couch cushions to display his thick, juicy neck that definitely doesn’t awaken any vampiric tendencies in you. “We can even watch some anime if you want,” he murmurs, casually throwing an arm around your shoulders in a way that would have made any teenage girl in the early 2000s squeal with excitement. It’s one of those barely there touches, but the way he holds you makes you feel so safe and warm and loved. So loved and in love. “The ones on Crunchyroll, though.”

For the sake of preserving these good vibes (and your ears [and Jungkook’s sanity]), you navigate to the Crunchyroll app on your phone, quickly finding your latest obsession and mirroring it onto the big television before Jungkook can react. “Sailor Moon?” he asks with a tone that implies a feigned interest, mostly out of respect for you; he’s, sadly, still not the big dorky anime fan you had hoped to convert him into.

“In the name of the moon, I’ll punish you,” you recite dutifully, snatching up the throw blanket on the end of the couch. It’s barely big enough to cover the both of you, has Jungkook’s outstretched legs and your booty subject to the chilly air. Who cares, Jungkook is a furnace anyway.

He snorts. “Punish me,” he mumbles, as if he doesn’t believe it. His snarky comment wins him a playful pinch against his doughy cheek, not that he particularly defends himself against it anyway, eyes fluttering shut as you tug at the pale skin.

“Don’t fuck with the moon, Jungkook,” you warn him, snuggling closely against his side as your favorite opening song begins filtering through the speakers of the television before you. It’s infinitely better than the 240p YouTube clips you had subjected yourself to the entire last week, the graphics scarily clear.

“Right, of course,” Jungkook says, but a hint of amusement seems to curl around the sound anyway. Nevertheless, he lets it go, cuddles into your side as you pour your full focus into watching yet another group of ragtag teenagers with supernatural abilities kick some ass.

You can tell Jungkook isn’t really into it, and you’re torn between just snuggling him into a well deserved nap or taping his eyelids open so he can become a fan of this show with you.

The loving, caring, adoring side of you says Jungkook deserves the entire world and more (the more in question preferably being a fluffy blanket and a nap). He worked hard this week, just like you, and on top of that he was the one who planned this entire weekend getaway for the two of you to enjoy. You want him to rest up.

The obnoxiously in love girlfriend-slash-best friend in you says Jungkook is sorely missing out on one of the greatest shows on planet Earth and that naps are for the weak.

Your jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a loud sound on the television, a yelp from Ms. Sailor Moon herself that has you jolting up in surprise. Jungkook welcomes you deeper into his embrace, chuckles at your little fright. “Scared?” he teases in that low voice that makes you feel like you’re going crazy, really. So crazy and irrational, and the only thing that stops you from bombarding him with an unexpected outpouring of love is that hard and sharp thing that pokes your side when you get too close to him. It’s not Jungkook, sadly, but something in the front pocket of his hoodie instead.

And for some reason, part of your brain is stuck all of a sudden, rewinding the last two and a half years like a broken cassette tape that had the tape reel hastily stuffed back inside by a toddler. It’s choppy to say the least, and it certainly doesn’t help when Jungkook calls your name softly, tenderly. “__,” he murmurs. It’s a little weird; it’s not often he says your name, mostly referring to you with one of the many pet names from that part of his vocabulary that focuses exclusively on terms of endearment. Your heart skips a beat.

Now, if anyone were to ask, it’s approximately around this time that you begin to spiral. The pink curve of his bottom lip is just too close, the mole on his nose too prominent. Paired with the obnoxious tittering of Usagi on screen, you can feel your thoughts begin to overlap, bumping into each other within the realm of your brain until all that comes out are the messiest of messy thoughts.

They go like this:

Most episodes of any anime run for approximately thirty minutes. Take out the commercial breaks, the opening and ending credits, and it becomes something closer to twenty. Twenty minutes per episode, filled with plot and gags and tears and whatever else necessary to make you feel something, anything really.

“What’s in your pocket?” you ask tentatively.

In contrast, it takes approximately two seconds for Jungkook’s lips to quirk up— first the right side, always the right side —and his eyes to crinkle. Two seconds for him to smile, a sweet expression that reminds you of Netflix and college and quiet laughter and tattoos and silly YouTube videos and cookies and cell phones and job applications and blond hair; two seconds to make you feel everything all at once.

“There’s nothing,” he says, but his cheeks are pink, and it’s not from the cold anymore. His smile is so big it makes your own cheeks ache just looking at it. You can’t even hear the television anymore. Never mind the fact you really like Sailor Moon, or that you really want to pay attention to every little detail; the moment becomes Jungkook and his big smile and his red cheeks and the tiny box he produces from within his pocket. “It was supposed to be for tomorrow,” he admits, unwrapping his arm from around you.

It’s a little funny, somehow, because his hands are covered in ink, in tiny doodles and intricate pieces of swirls and words that ooze this aura of strength and toughness. But they tremble when he opens it, as unsteady as a wispy dandelion on a windy day, fumbling with the box. And when you look closely, he’s been biting at the skin along his thumb again, that nervous habit you’ve been trying forever to help him overcome.

Someone is saying something on screen, something important to the plot. The volume is loud, but not as loud as your heart. Not as loud as Jungkook’s quiet murmur when he speaks again. “Will you marry me?” he asks softly, looks at you with flushed cheeks and big eyes and his heart on his sleeve.

The answer has always been the same, hasn’t changed since the first time he planted the seed in your mind. Still, it catches in your throat, nearly loses out to a surprised and emotional sob that you barely manage to bite down. You had just been speaking, had just been ready to deliver a whole spiel on the importance of him watching Sailor Moon with you. But when you try now, it’s raspy and dry, as if you haven’t used your voice in years. “I— yes,” you exhale, surprised by the lonely tear that trails down your cheek. You go to wipe it away, but Jungkook beats you with a gentle hand cupping your cheek.

His smile is wobbly, patches of red blossoming across his face that eventually consume his entire appearance as he leans his forehead against yours. Only then do you realize he’s crying, and you laugh out of reflex. “You’re crying,” you say, and Jungkook snorts.

“You cried first,” he sniffles, smiling. “You made me cry.”

He looks like a wreck, but, like, a hot wreck. An engaged, hot wreck who’s eyes flicker back to the TV to remind you to pause your anime, always so considerate. You do, hastily smashing buttons on the remote before remembering it’s controlled by your phone, hands flying back and forth as your nerves actively work to retire themselves after Jungkook’s proposal. “Easy there,” he soothes, eventually catching your hand in his, drawing it up for a kiss against your knuckles.

The ring fits perfectly, snuggly. Vaguely, a memory drifts through your thoughts of Jungkook and Doyeon on a rampant mission to reorganize your jewelry box a few months ago, but it disappears as quickly as it came. You’re taken by the ring, a simple band with a pretty diamond on top. It’s a good mixture of you and him; flashy yet mild.

“You love me,” you marvel, a revelation you’ve had the honor of experiencing time and time again with Jungkook. Still, it never fails to render you speechless. He hums.

“I do,” he says, taking your hand in his. “It’s the easiest thing for me. Like breathing, or existing. I think I was made to love you.” And normally, you’d be the first one to correct him. Jungkook was made for so much more, a fact he’s proven time and time again with his abilities and the sheer size of his heart. He was your golden boy, could do anything he set his mind to. Always amazing you, always making you fall in love all over again.

But now, with the weight of his words sitting heavy in the air, you find yourself incapable of negating the fact, instead sniffling at the meaning.

Pleased with your silence, Jungkook places another chaste kiss against your ring. “I love you, __,” he confesses, voice nearly a whisper. Your entire body feels as if it is doused in gasoline, lit aflame over and over again. Your heart threatens your rib cage, pounds away with the strength of a world renowned boxer. Jungkook’s hands curl around your wrists carefully. “I used to think we were like the moon and the sun,” he admits, “that you were my sun and I was your moon. In love but always separated by those thin veils of the sunrise and the sunset.” He pauses, nuzzling sweetly against your palm once more before gently guiding them down between the two of you. “But that really sucks— saying goodbye to you every night? I hate that, __. I hate watching you leave, I hate watching you run off in the mornings or halfway through the day, having to drive back and forth from your place to mine. I hate having to be away from you when all I wanna do is hold you. I— I want to be by your side,” he rambles, eyes nervously meeting yours. They’re still glassy, dark lashes framing his chocolate irises wonderfully. “Forever.”

Your heartbeat stutters, the simple word looping itself in your mind like that night in his dining room all over again, all the fantasies of having a forever with Jungkook bubbling to the surface. Jungkook pushes on. “You are my sun,” he says softly, mostly to himself. “But… I don’t wanna be the moon anymore. Being the moon means, eventually, I’ll have to say goodbye. In the night or in the morning, it always comes to an end. And I don't want there to be an end with you,” he insists, clutching your hand tightly. “I wanna be another star, the closest one to you. The one who gets to be with you forever. I wanna be by you and shine with you and—“

“Explode into a gazillion little fragments of cosmic dust with me,” you offer, and Jungkook nods along eagerly, too amped up on his speech to bother scolding you for your playful comment.

“Yes, I want to— to—“ The words catch in his throat. So much emotion from the man you once thought was the dictionary definition of calm and collected. “To—“

“Marry me,” you fill in, and Jungkook practically blows a fuse from how emotionally fired up he’s become, exclaiming a resolute, “yes!” that leaves you stupidly grinning back at him.

His outburst leaves him with flushed cheeks. “I do,” he reiterates in a softer tone, averting his gaze from you as if embarrassed by his cheesy outpouring of emotion. Usually, it’s the other way around; you make all the corny declarations of love and Jungkook laughs along suavely. It feels nice to have the tables turned.

There’s so much to say, but the words all fade away when Jungkook shyly looks at you again. You settle on tackling him back onto the couch cushions, taking his surprised little yelp in stride as you suffocate him in your embrace. “Save those words for the big day, superstar,” you giggle, peppering his red face with tiny kisses that make him scrunch up cutely. “I can’t wait to blow up into one huge supernova with you.”

Beneath you, Jungkook groans. “I’m sorry,” he huffs, voice muffled against your shoulder. Begrudgingly, his arms come up to envelope you, pulling you closer until the blanket scrunches up uncomfortably between you two. “That must’ve sounded so lame.”

Leaning back so you’re not completely squishing him, you carefully push his silvery hair away from his forehead. “Don’t be,” you assure him, placing one chaste peck against his pouty lips. “I thought it was cute. I didn’t know you were into astrology.”

A sigh. “Astronomy,” he corrects, “astrology has to do with zodiac signs and placements.”

You run your thumbs over his cheeks, collecting any of the drying tears that paint his face. “Oh, like how you’re a Virgo and I’m a“—

The TV remote you had lost somewhere along the way is suddenly rematerialized beneath your knee, sends the speakers blaring to life with a deafening screech that has both you and Jungkook leaping up like two frightened cats. “You always do this,” he laughs, that loud boyish sound that makes you feel like you’re sitting on a cloud. He watches you with a gentle smile as you hurriedly shut off the television, the remote haphazardly tossed somewhere behind you afterwards. You return to his embrace, wrap your arms around his waist and snuggle into his warmth. His heart thumps a steady rhythm beneath your ear.

“You’re gonna be stuck with me forever,” you warn him, clutching at the fabric of his shirt like he’ll suddenly disintegrate before your eyes.

Above you, Jungkook hums, placing a kiss against the crown of your head. “I look forward to it,” he responds, pulling you impossibly closer, until you can feel the wrinkles in his shirt imprinting themselves against your cheek. He’s back to being that suave bastard again, and you find yourself wishing you had milked those big crocodile tears out of him for just a little bit longer.

Fingers gently press against the muscles in your nape, push themselves in deeply until you can feel all the tension seeping out, turning you into a limbless blob over Jungkook. “Jeez,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut. “And you wanted to wait until tomorrow.”

He huffs out a laugh. “I just thought you’d rather get engaged at a fancy restaurant with a pretty dress,” he defends, and you can hear the grin on his face. “For the photos.”

“Fair point,” you concede, eventually pushing yourself up so you’re not entirely squishing your boyfriend beneath you. Jungkook is already looking at you when you lift your head, has got this funny double-chin from this angle that makes his normally sharp jawline disappear. You find yourself tapping a finger against his chin, on the chocolate chip mole that hides itself beneath his plump bottom lip. “If anything, just propose to me again tomorrow at the restaurant.”

It wins you an eye-roll. “I’m not gonna propose to you again tomorrow,” he laughs, doesn’t even push you away when you become annoying and start tapping your fingers against all his beauty marks like you’re playing Whack-a-Mole.

“Booo,” you frown, but let it go soon enough, foregoing your little game to press your lips against his. “Then I better make this a night to remember,” you murmur, tilting your head to the side.

Your hands dip into his luscious locks, fingernails tracing thin lines along his scalp that are certain to send tingles down his spine. As predicted, Jungkook releases a quiet groan soon after, a sound that’s muffled against your own lips. He’s pliant tonight, but not in a way that would elude fatigue. Pliant in a way that suggests he wants you to take the reins tonight, exhaling softly against you as he parts his lips.

“Let me take care of you,” you hum, the hand that had been mindlessly hovering along his cheek drifting down to caress the side of his neck. Jungkook nods, his irises swimming in lust. You smile at his silent compliance, give his throat a light squeeze that makes his breathing hitch in surprise.

He’s always at his prettiest when he’s beneath you like this, limbs moving in slow motion as you guide him along. You can already feel the beginnings of his arousal stirring beneath the front of his sweats, his cock slowly making its presence known against your thigh. You press your lips against his once more, making sure to make it rougher than the first kiss. Your tongue is met with little resistance, slips past his lips and dips into the hot cave of his mouth where Jungkook releases another trembling breath.

Two hands come up behind you, trail themselves over your back and down to your ass, where he gives the two globes a tight squeeze. It draws a whimper out of you, one that Jungkook greedily swallows up. His tongue rubs up along yours, the wet muscle daringly pushing back against yours. His rebelliousness is only quelled with another press of your fingertips around his throat.

“Slow down,” you tell him. The first roll of your hips against him is slow, cruel in that you cut the motion short just as Jungkook begins to push back. A bratty huff escapes him, swollen pink lips pushing out into that endearing pout you love so much. It makes you grin, releasing the grip around his throat to carefully brush a stray strand of hair away from his eyes.

It’s a gesture that works to soften Jungkook as well, the petulant look on his face melting away as you trail your pointer finger along his cheekbone. It’s replaced with a more tender one, dark lashes blinking up at you slowly. “Open,” you command upon reaching his mouth, finger pressing down against his pink lower lip. Jungkook obeys, opening his mouth until you can see his pink tongue and the dark abyss that leads down his throat. Your finger pushes itself in, and Jungkook certainly doesn’t try to resist. His lips suction around the digit fairly quickly, tight enough to keep you there but loose enough for you to slowly draw your finger in and out, each short plunge pressing down against his tongue.

It’s a rather short affair, one that comes to an end when he accidentally bucks up against you, pressing his hardened member against your core. You retract your finger. “Can you,” he tries, but his cheeks are stained red and he refuses to meet your gaze. “Just…”

You intercept him with a chaste peck, maneuvering your legs until your knees are firmly pressed into the couch cushions beneath him, his thin waist trapped in between. When you sit up, you feel drunk on power and the way Jungkook looks up at you certainly doesn’t help. “Can I sit on your face?”

He chokes. “I— sure, please,” he blurts out. His gaze follows you as you slip off of him, quickly discarding your pants and top on the floor. One pat against his thigh has him hurrying to shimmy out of his clothes, his sweatpants caught around his ankles.

“You’re excited,” you laugh, stripping him of his bottoms when the frustration takes him over.

Jungkook scoffs. “Well, yeah,” he mumbles, tugging his shirt off with one smooth motion. The ink around his bicep is as dark as ever, contrasts wonderfully against his warm face. “My fiancée is gonna sit on my face.”

The title makes you preen, quickly finding your place on his lap once more. With your clothing out of the way, Jungkook really does become a furnace. Every inch of his body is hot to the touch, soft too. “Fiancée,” you giggle, hands on his chest. They slide down, fingers playfully nudging his brown nipples. Jungkook flinches at the touch. “Gonna sit on my fiancé’s face,” you parrot back, delicately pinching one nipple between your fingers. A moan spills from his lips, his cock pushing against your thigh once more.

It’s the reminder you need, pushing back dutifully against him as you continue to toy with his chest. He’d look pretty with piercings, you find yourself thinking, watching on in fascination at the way his pert nipples stand at attention. Beneath you, Jungkook begins to grow desperate, his hands finding their place on your waist to encourage you to grind down against him once more.

Jungkook swears up and down that he’s not particularly sensitive about having his nipples touched. But when you’ve got him like this, sinfully laid out before you, you can easily confirm that his claims are nothing but lies. He loves having his nipples touched, squirms beneath you impatiently with each playful tug and twist you bestow upon them.

You duck down, pressing a kiss against his pectoral, just beside his nipple, and Jungkook’s entire body shivers. A few careful drags of your tongue against his warm skin only serve to string him along further, the prettiest whimper pulling itself from his lips when you finally envelope one of them in your mouth. “Wait,” he gasps, clawing at your clothing as if he both wants to push you off and push you closer. You grin, brandishing one mean nip at the sensitive nub.

Eventually, your incessant need to play with Jungkook’s chest is fulfilled. “Lay back,” you instruct, watching as he shuffles down flat on the cushions, silver hair tumbling away from his eyes. He’s so red, eyes hazy. Your panties are discarded, joining the ever growing pile of clothes on the floor.

Once upon a time, the idea of sitting on Jungkook’s face had terrified you, filled you with nightmares of crushing his windpipe or breaking his nose. For the most part, they’re pretty unrealistic fears, ones that can be easily shut down after one careful Google search on safe sexual practices. These days, it’s all too easy; in the mornings, especially, it’s become natural for him to guide you on top carefully, holding your hand as you whimper and sob over his face.

In the current moment, you find yourself stroking a hand down the side of his face, completely enamored with the huge puppy eyes he levels your way. Jungkook likes having your pussy in his face just as much as you do, loves making you feel good in any way he knows how. But there’s a separate matter at hand, one that stands at attention beneath his black boxers and successfully wins your attention.

Truthfully, there is no dilemma to ponder over; you want both to ride Jungkook’s face and suck him off. The solution?

“We’ve never done this before,” Jungkook mumbles in amazement, his voice slightly muffled from his position beneath you and slightly behind you. Still, his arms dutifully wrap around your thighs, guiding you closer to his mouth where his hot breath fans against your glistening folds. You rock back willingly, hands preoccupied with pushing his boxers down and away from his engorged cock.

“Really?” you ask, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with the cock before you and the tongue that gently laps at your folds. Jungkook makes a sound, something between a hum and whimper, his mouth slowly getting to work against your folds. “M- Maybe,” you stutter, all thought processes coming to a halt as you carefully take him in your hand.

His cock is hard and long, his tip an angry shade that weeps with precum. From this angle, you get to watch Jungkook’s huge thighs twitch at the sensation, the tattoo that marks up one of them doing little to hide the fact. Your hand squeezes him, watches in awe as another fat droplet oozes out of his tip. A moan tears itself from his throat, and it’s so goddamn sexy it nearly drives you insane.

It’s one particularly long lap of his tongue over your clit that sends you into action, back arching at the tingles that shoot down your spine. Wasting no more time, you guide Jungkook’s cock into your mouth, let your own tongue shower his mushroom tip in kitten licks that have him bucking upwards. He releases your clit with a lewd pop, hot breath fanning across your lips. “Fuck,” he gasps, voice harsh.

Admittedly, it’s more difficult than you thought it would be.

You’re not one to be easily overwhelmed (says you), but with Jungkook’s twitching cock in your mouth and his teasing tongue dipping into your entrance, it becomes hard to juggle your attention between the two. Even Jungkook, who is quite frankly the master of cunnilingus, seems torn between the two, his breathing shallow and quick against your folds.

With each slow descent around his cock, he shudders, thigh muscles tightening in anticipation. It causes a lull in the pace of his tongue, the generous kisses and licks against your folds subject to a somewhat uneven pace that, surprisingly, leaves you more on edge than you’d ever expected it to; right when you think he’s about to suck your clit into his mouth, you’re met with a harsh exhale instead, one that makes your lips flutter.

You’re both disappointed in yourselves for never having tried this mind-blowing position before, and equal parts understanding as to why you haven’t tried this position before— it’s a lot. His cock is halfway down your throat when it twitches, sends a gush of precum into your mouth that has your eyes rolling backwards, a whine slipping out around him. Jungkook appreciates the vibrations, letting it fuel him as he plunges his tongue into your hole. It’s a two way street, you realize, one that is constantly experiencing traffic.

“Baby,” you gasp, pulling off of his cock with a slick sound, hypnotized by the trail of saliva that connects your lips to his tip. Jungkook’s tongue prods along your slit, makes your eyesight go blurry when the tip of his nose brushes along you as well. The idea of his cute nose buried deep someplace it shouldn’t be has you grinding down on him. “We can— we should stop,” you stutter, your trembling hand reaching forward to grasp the base of his cock.

He’s slick with your saliva and his precum, and your hand makes a squelching sound upon contact. It must feel good, because Jungkook moans against your folds, his thighs unconsciously falling farther apart as you slowly jerk him off. You think you might’ve heard your name slip from his lips, but your mind is fuzzy, lost in your lust as Jungkook licks a sinful line from your hole to your clit, curling his tongue at the end. “J- Jungkook,” you cry, flinching away because it’s become too much, your toes curling as the beginnings of an orgasm threaten you.

Before that can happen, he relents, leaning back with a heavy exhale, his hands loosening their grip against your ass and plopping back down against the cushions. “Fuck,” he pants, his cock twitching in your hold. A lonely droplet of precum trails down the side, your knuckles coated in the glossy substance. Beneath you, Jungkook rubs one soothing palm against your hip.

You slink off before he can get any funny ideas, maneuver yourself around until you’re kneeling between his parted thighs, his fat cock standing at attention between the two of you. From here, he looks ravenous, and you begin to question who exactly is taking care of who. Jungkook looks like he’s a second away from pinning you down and swallowing you whole, a thought that makes your toes curl.

It’s with a cautiously horny hand that you reach for his cock again, holding him with both hands. Jungkook growls, head lolling backwards until all you can see is his neck and his chin, thick veins protruding along his skin. Jungkook doesn’t waste a moment longer. “C’mere,” he purrs, hauling you up until you’re clumsily leaning over him, palms framing his face. A lone finger runs down your spine, its faint touch making you arch forward. “Sorry,” he says, securing an arm around your waist. “I know you wanted to take care of me, but…”

You roll your eyes, submitting yourself to his clutches as he masterfully rolls the two of you over. The couch is soft beneath your back, and Jungkook looks pretty from above too. “You just can’t sit still, can you?” you murmur playfully.

Jungkook’s forearms find their place beneath your thighs, the fold of the back of your knee perfectly slotted against his warm skin as he shuffles closer. “Maybe another time,” he laughs along sheepishly, his hard cock gliding over your slit, teasing your clit. You gulp, eyes scanning over his lean build as if it’s the first time. “Sorry,” he repeats, but he’s got this stupidly dopey grin on his face as he glances down at your pussy; he’s insane, he’s got to be, what man makes heart eyes at a pussy?

Your man, apparently. Grasping the base of his cock, Jungkook takes care to drag it along your folds collecting your wetness along his length, a deep shudder wracking his body through it all. “I knew you would do this to me,” he mutters, so low you nearly miss it under the thundering sound of your heartbeat.

“Huh,” you mumble, and you’d like to defend yourself and say you weren’t as cock-crazy as Jungkook was coochie-crazy, but that would be a lie. You’re staring at his cock as if it holds the secrets to the universe right now.

Jungkook juts his head to the side, a motion similar to the one he does when he’s trying to crack his neck. His tongue prods along his cheek, eyes laser-focused on the point where your two bodies meet. “From the moment you walked into my house,” he grunts mindlessly, finally lining himself up with your entrance. He chances a glance up, meets your gaze with a patient look, “all good?”

“All good,” you hurriedly reply, fingers finding their place against his broad shoulders. With the way he had prepared you earlier, mouthed along your clit and your folds until you were pleasantly aroused, the glide now is too easy. Tight, but easy, has the two of you releasing twin moans that echo off the wooden walls of the cabin.

Jungkook’s forehead is covered in a thin veil of sweat, one that glistens when the evening sunset pours in through the balcony doors, highlighting him in a golden light that makes you dizzy. The angry tip of his cock sinks into your walls, Jungkook’s ashy strands sticking to his forehead and his cheeks. For some reason, you find yourself reminiscing on the aforementioned moment Jungkook had spoken of. Of the soft sweater he’d worn that day and the dinner he had made, the blond tips on his chestnut hair and the way he’d clung onto every word you’d said.

It makes you tear up, and, after laughing at Jungkook early for crying, you quickly turn your face away.

Jungkook isn’t dumb. “What now,” he chuckles, though his breathing is labored, every inch of his cock that penetrates you further bringing with it another rush of adrenaline. At the hilt, you’re embarrassed to say there’s multiple tears streaming down your face, so you can’t even play it off as you usually do. “Crybaby,” Jungkook teases, but his voice is so soft and tender you don’t know what to do with yourself.

“Just move,” you bite out, shamefully covering your face with your hands. Jungkook leans over you, the movement pushing his dick deeper inside of you, your walls clenching around him. A kiss is placed over your knuckles, just shy of your engagement ring. Your chest lurches with a silent sob. “Jungkook,” you whimper, sinking further into the cushion, “please, just—“

“I got it,” he assures you, placing one final peck against your handmade (literally) shield. And then, so quietly you almost miss it, he makes sure to whisper, “love you,” before unsheathing himself.

You shudder, your heart feeling so full, you fear it’ll burst. You both love and hate when he treats you like this, like an ice sculpture in the scorching heat that has him doing everything he can to keep you solid. His touch is soft, the roll of his hips too slow for your liking. You feel so small and vulnerable— too pampered. “Harder,” you beg, your voice an airy whine that has Jungkook chuckling above you.

He lives to please you, hiking your leg over his shoulder with a renewed vigor. His hands find themselves on your waist, forcefully pinning you down against the couch cushions as he sets upon fulfilling your latest request. The next series of thrusts are jerky, have you jostling in his grip as Jungkook pounds into you with an all new mindset. “Lemme see you,” he huffs, thumbs painfully digging into your skin. You tremble in his arms, heart swayed by the quiet plea in his voice. “Let me see your face, pretty girl.”

Reluctantly, you do, brandishing your tear-stricken face his way. Jungkook smiles, that stupidly handsome smile, his hips snapping into you roughly. “Fuck,” he moans, the expression never leaving his face, even when run your nails over his chest harshly. “You’re so pretty.”

You ignore him for the sake of your already weakened mental state, focusing instead on the brutal force of his hips, the way his cock stretches your walls out. Each push has you seeing stars, thighs quivering from the sensations that shoot up your spine and down your toes. “Oh,” you mewl, hands gripping his biceps as you lose yourself to him. Your eyes roll back, vision a mess of colors and nothingness all at once.

“Is this hard enough?” Jungkook husks out, and he sounds so close. His proximity is confirmed when his mouth slots against yours, his harsh breath mingling with your own as he continues to frantically buck into your inviting heat, each new round of thrusts leaving you weaker and weaker than before. “God,” Jungkook cries, the sound nearly lost beneath your own moans and whimpers. “Gonna k- keep you forever,” he spits, tongue slipping into your mouth.

He’s messier than usual, moves with unrefined movements unlike his normal self. You don’t care, you love him all the same. His sloppy kisses turn into desperate ones, matching the pace of his hips. “Kook,” you sob, arms wrapping themselves around his neck, pulling him close until his thrusts are reduced to a shallower depth.

“I’ve got you,” he croons, lips against your jawline. His cock presses in and you swear you feel it alongside every inch of your walls, a warmth blossoming in your stomach. He’s layering messy kisses down your face now, lips sucking dark marks any chance he gets.

True to his word, Jungkook indeed has you. His cock pistons in and out at an astonishing pace, each surge into your folds making you dizzy over and over again. It’s a feeling you fear you’ll never grow tired of, in fact, it’s a feeling you fear you’ll begin to crave even more in the future. The good thing is, that future will extend into forever.

You yank him towards you, swallow his low laughter with your lips. Jungkook doesn’t complain, lowering himself until he’s practically squishing you beneath his beefy body, cock ramming in and out despite all that. His tongue glides along yours, makes it his mission to muffle each of your cries.

It doesn’t take long for you to be fulfilled. Given the fact you had sucked him off like a lollipop whilst having him eat you out, you’re not entirely surprised. That and the emotions of tonight have you melting into him sooner than you’d like, his name falling from your lips as your thighs clamp down around his waist. Jungkook takes it in stride, slows the maddening pace of his hips to cradle you in his arms. You’re like jelly, practically flop back into the cushion when he slips an arm beneath you. “You’re so good for me,” Jungkook praises, lavishing your throat in tiny pecks as his orgasm circles around. “My pretty girl.”

“Love you,” you sigh, and your body feels numb, his intrusion but a small touch now that he’s tired you out once more, your walls tender and raw. Jungkook presses a smile against your throat and, moments later, releases inside of you.

Even minutes after the deed, the feeling refuses to return to your legs. He didn’t go that hard— well, you’re not entirely sure. The memories always become blurry toward the end of your escapades. Everything rushes back in waves, and for some reason, your first thought is, “where’s Sailor Moon?”

Your post-rump conversations have never been the most coherent, usually filled with pretty weird thoughts and ideas. Still, more grand things have happened tonight for you to be worried about a magical anime girl. Jungkook draws himself out of your core with a huff of laughter. “On the TV,” he answers, unfazed by the oddity of your question.

That’s how you know he’s a keeper.

It takes a while, but eventually Jungkook responds. “Avocado toast,” he says, though his answer is dripping with uncertainty. He’s naked as the day he was born, snuggled up beside you in bed. He’s propped up on one arm, looking down at you over the ample swell of his manly bosom. It takes everything in you to keep your hands off his chest.

“Correct,” you respond, “and what movie did we watch?”

Without missing a beat, “Transformers, the first one.”

You nod, glancing at the ceiling as you rack your brain for any other trivia questions to ask your fiancé. “The title of the playlist you made?”

A flush paints his cheeks. “Date Night playlist,” he answers through a pout, reprimanding you for bringing up such a memory with a flick to your forehead. You wince. “I was young and silly,” he defends.

You beam, cuddling into his side until he’s forced to lay back down. “Yeah, yeah,” you tease. “We’re only gonna get older from here,” you lament. You’d say it’s difficult to picture him with a gray head of hair, but his current silvery locks don’t leave much room for your imagination.

Jungkook pulls you close. A beat of silence passes, and then, “so who are we telling first?”

Definitely Namjoon.

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whaleofatjme1920 · 3 years

Text

Right Back Where You Started

[Masky/Timothy Wright X F!Reader]

[Warnings: slight blood, slight violence, language]

[AN: Four of my OC's are in here! This was also requested from a friend a while ago.]

The beauty about being able to live a life outside of murdering people and being at the whim of a monster that fancies itself as a god is a variety of your own accord.

For instance, you can wake up whenever you feel like, take a job wherever there’s openings, meet new people and not have to bash their brains in just for asking about your life and only need to pick up a blade to cut food or occasionally packages you impulsively bought on the nights that feel like too much and not enough all in one. You can breathe and not worry about inky black tendrils crushing your throat for doing so without his permission. You’re able to sleep at night knowing that no higher up in your group will attempt to kill you in an act of proxy related hazing. You can clear your mind temporarily of the thoughts of what may come next in trade for semi-normalcy even though you know those thoughts won’t go away anytime soon. The weight of what you’d done was too much to bear, and Atlas can only disappear for so long.

When you first decided to betray your boss, the tall man in the woods, the faerie that steals children away, you acted on impulse. It was an impulse that was born from being all too exhausted with risking your life, committing sin upon sin and other terrible, no good things that should ever be uttered. The decision you made on impulse had no foresight or planning, and when you decided to run, you ran as far and as hard as you could away from him. Away from them. Away from it all. Of course, you know there were going to be repercussions for running like so few others did.

The ire of the Slender Man being the worst.

Most days, you try not to think of him. There’s no point - well, maybe there is a healthy fear you still have - but to worry yourself into a stupor would be silly now. You’ve been free of him for a year. He hasn’t sent you any signs, nor has he sent anyone… Maybe you weren’t important enough to set him off like some of the others had.

These are the things you like to think about as you sit on your couch watching the late night news that’s barely audible as you scroll through your phone. You never really did like the total silence an empty house provides. There’s a simmer cup of tea on the coffee cup and a few snacks laid out that you have little plans of eating while you relax and enjoy the midsummer night. Outside, you can hear crickets sing and cicadas accompany them. It’s peaceful, and while your mind would like to think of it as such, you can’t ignore the ringing in the back of your head. Things have been pleasant, too pleasant. There’s bound to be a storm due to roll in.

Still, you try not to think of these things, and instead focus on the content that scrolls in and out of your vision. It’s nothing particularly interesting, but helps get your mind off the things that often keep you up. And you continue to sit there on the couch, wrapped up in a light blanket to combat your AC as the hours of the night tick by. Your mind is completely off of really, any higher cognitive thought, when you hear something. It’s soft, low, sounds like two, maybe three people and they’re out in the distance. Must just be stumbling onto the borders of your ‘farm’.

See, the funny thing about trying to integrate into normal human life is that you physically can’t. You can follow all their customs, get into their society, look like them, but you’ll never be fully human. You want to know why? Proxies can never go back to what they used to be. They’re forever changed, and no force on heaven of earth can ever get rid of that. He can take your memory and dump you on the side of the road, but your biology has forever been changed. In most cases, it’s a nice thing to have: faster healing, better pain tolerance, heightened senses, and a better sense of problem solving than most people. Other days, it’s a hindrance for reasons you can’t quite explain. Some call it Slender Sickness, and the only way to remedy it is to be under the tall man’s care.

Because you’re not, you’ve found other ways to remedy the sickness he inflicts on practically everything he touches. Pills. You find them in odd, strange places, but they get the job done. So long as you have them, you can be free of his grasp and his connection.

But goddamn, the hearing is mostly a hindrance. On the account of you living on the edge of a college town, you’ve got land and are surrounded by farmer’s fields. You heat it all- critters in the night, teens messing with the patches, arguments, sometimes crimes, and it keeps you up at night. That’s a downside to not having him in your life- he’s not there to dampen its effects when it becomes too much. However, in this specific instance, your heightened hearing is a blessing.

The feeling in your gut only furls together tighter as you hear the three strolling down your dirt road. They’re close, much too close. You know that they’re here for you.

Frantically, you jump off the couch and start to damage control by making the place look like no one inhabits it. The TV and lights are turned off, the mug emptied of its contents, snacks put away and other leads buried. Your heart pounds a mile a minute - you know that if he finds you, it’s all over.

He’ll kill you - the Slender Man is not known for his mercy.

You feel like a chicken with its head cut off as you look around the house for weapons before settling on the kitchen knife. It’s cliché and reminds you of someone you once heard whispers about, but it’s all you can think of in this moment. When you left this life, you left the physical parts of it as well. All your gear, weapons, they’re hidden in a place that’s too risky for you to even attempt getting. Armed with the kitchen knife, you debate running out the back or hiding, then running. You always were good at staying out of sight, hiding it is.

Your eyes dart to the basement door and you slip through right as you hear the three outside your front door. There’s a window that opens in the direction of the town. If you slip out of it, you’ll be able to get a good headtstart through the field. The moment you start booking it down the stairs, you hear your front door get blown open.

“Wallace, what do you think?” You hear a male’s voice ask.

“Someone’s been in here recently,” a deeper male voice responds - must be Wallace, eyeing over your living room.

In the darkness, you quietly maneuver the crowded, cluttered basement, mentally cursing you left your phone upstairs in your haste.

“It feels like someone’s been in here,” Wallace’s voice continues. You can practically hear him smelling the air. “Ruth, tell Nyein to sniff this one out.”

You hear boots scuff against your wooden floor and stop somewhere in the doorway. “You could always just ask them yourself,” the female voice identified as Ruth verbally shrugs. She clicks her tongue, and you hear even more steps. How many of these people are there? You hope it’s just four. That’s a well sized group, come to think of it. “Ny, can you please sniff this one out? Seems like they’ve done a good job at scent covering.”

A beat of silence passes.

“Don’t give us any attitude,” the first male voice hisses slightly. “Do what you’re told-”

“Theo,” Wallace sharply reprimands.

You hear Theo sigh right as you reach the window. You pray to whatever deity will have you that it won’t squeak or make any loud noises, but the thing hasn’t been opened in gods know how long. You use the blade to lightly cut through the layers of off-white paint before the window is free. You mentally smile before attempting to lift it.

Meanwhile, upstairs, Nyein got your scent. Their pupils dilate upon realizing you’re the one the Slender Man has requested alive. You hear someone rapidly padding to the basement.

Panic fills your veins as you struggle to get the window open, not even caring that it’s making all the noise in the world. You need to get out!

“She padlock this thing?” You hear Ruth ask before she grunts. The door can’t hold them back forever.

You frantically push up on the window - it's a quarter open, not near enough for you to slip through. Shit, shit, shit! You need to go NOW.

“Jesus- just break it already,” Wallace sighs.

A few more grunts and you hear the wood splinter. You hear them descending the steps quickly.

“There!” Theo points.

You hold your breath and push the window up with all your strength before hosting yourself up.

“Shit! Out the front! Ny, keep on her,” Wallace commands as he smacks Ruth and Theo’s shoulder, the two quickly following him up the stairs.

You begin to shimmy out the narrow window as the being called ‘Nyein’ eyes you down. You don’t think you’ve ever seen an independent like that before. They look absolutely feral, and the scent of you has them locked on your crawling form.

Their eyes narrow, teeth bared, and they quickly lunge across the space for you, right as your legs reach the windowsill.

You cry out in surprise as their clawed hand digs into your ankle, drawing blood you know you can’t afford to worry about.

“Get off!” You shout in retaliation, kicking at their face. Freed, you begin to sprint into the field.

Nyein snarls and crawls out the window as well, running after you with a speed that has you on edge. You continue to run. Behind you, you can hear the other three quickly gaining on you as well. How badly does the Slender Man want you? Your lungs light on fire as they chase you through the field. Soon, you’ll be hitting the small stretch of trees before you reach the town. With other people, you’ll have a better chance at being safe. But the stretch of woods is an awful mess of brush and loose soil. You can’t afford to misstep now.

You take in a deep breath as you hurl into the small stretch of trees, all too aware of the proxies and independent that are hot on your trail. In the back of your head, you can tell they’re tired of you. Good. They should be. You narrowly avoid twisted roots and piles of mud and grow closer and closer to other people.

It’s so close that you can almost touch it.

Lost in your thoughts and too tunnel visioned in on reaching the town, you fail to recognize the steel jaw trap in the darkness and send your shoe right on it. It clamps down, bites, and holds you. You screech and fall forward, careening into the forest floor. The pain in your leg is absolutely agonizing, and you claw at it in vain to free yourself as your pursuers close in on you.

“Gave us quite the chase, Reader,” Wallace says with a slight scowl as he crouches a healthy distance from you. “Should let you rot here,” he muses. You can’t see his face both from the darkness of the night and the fact he’s wearing a mask, but you can tell he’s upset.

“Or let Ny eat her. Been a while since they’ve last had anything,” Theo adds on, glaring at you through the eyeholes of his mask that’s the head of a pig.

“He said he wanted her alive,” Ruth chimes in, a sigh in her tone. “She’s already fucked herself up enough, let’s not rub salt in the wounds.”

“Put her to sleep then,” Wallace shrugs.

You look up at these people like a caged animal, your eyes narrowing and slightly watering at the pain of the steel jaw trap. You feel yourself inching closer and closer to the earth subconsciously as Nyein eyes you like a prize.

\ They reach their hand out to touch you before you smack them away. Their snarl, their eyes traveling down to your ankle where the blood smells the strongest.

“Do it before they eat her,” The deep voiced man says again. “Though, last I checked, Ny doesn’t eat proxies.”

“She’s a traitor, not a proxy,” Ruth lightly corrects, her gaze alone shushing you from making any noise.

Not wanting to work yourself up, you settle for cursing them under your breath.

Without any other words, Ruth comes up to you, resting her boot on your chest to keep you down. You attempt to grab at her leg, throw her off balance, but she’s stronger than you on account of still being an active proxy. Her dark eyes scan you up and down before she reaches into her back pocket. “Take a deep breath for me,” she murmurs before smacking the rag to your mouth and nose.

You flail about, screaming and cursing before reluctantly taking that breath.

“... Thank you, you’ve done well. Head out to - yes, that’s right, Theo - head there and I will give you further instruction.”

You blearily come to on the carpet of an office you hoped you’d never be back in. The smell of jasmine and incense hangs in the air. You hear a door shut and catch the boots of the people who brought you back to him leave the room. He must be sending them out to their next assignment; it’s probably some poor other bastard that won’t escape like you did. You take in a few timid breaths and allow the light to filter in.

There he is, your boss. He stands in front of you like a god. He has no face, but you can tell he’s more than upset.

“Miss Reader, what a pleasure,” he says in a deep, authoritarian tone.

On instinct, you feel yourself shrinking.

“Really?” He muses, inky black tendrils sprouting from his back. “You have the nerve to run from me, suppress me, and now you do this? You dare show your submission?” He hisses. The tendrils move like bolts of electricity as they wrap around your exhausted, terrified form.

You cringe as the tendrils take over every part of you, squeezing as if they’re threatening to break your bones if you so much as breathe out of turn. Tears well in your eyes as you remember the fear you used to feel rushing back and overloading your senses.

“You’re absolutely pathetic,” he spits as the tendril wrapped around your neck begins to constrict. You notice his body language bristle as he looks at you longer. “I could pop your eyeballs out of your sockets. I could tear you limb for limb,” the Slender Man continues like it’s nothing.

You feel nothing but malice radiate off his form. It’s heat that singes your very soul. “S-Sir,” you gasp out. “Why would you b-bring me here just to k-kill me?” You attempt to reason, eyes watering and vision going fuzzy. You weakly attempt to use your fingers as a barrier between the constrictor and you. You can’t take this low oxygen any longer - not with him physically inhibiting you.

A cold chuckle reverbates in your head while the vision of wolf’s teeth smile at you, as if they’re ready to snap. “You always were smart,” he notes, loosening his grip ever so slightly. “I could rip your head from your shoulders and it would make none of the difference.”

“Answer my observation,” you weakly cough out before he holds you tighter. You struggle to move your limbs. Your blood feels hot.

“Masky,” he suddenly calls out, hand gesturing to his office doors.

You’re barely able to move your head and settle on shifting your eyes instead to those large, oak doors as they open just a crack.In slips a man in a tan coat. He’s got dark hair, bags under his eyes, and he looks exhausted - more exhausted than you feel. He doesn’t look at you but instead focuses on the Slender Man.

“Sir,” he greets, bowing his head slightly in reverence.

The Slender Man hums, clearly pleased. You see the wolf’s jaws smile in your mind’s eye.

“Reader, you will be under his care now,” the Slender Man says. “If you successfully spend half a year at his side, I will reconsider tearing you apart.” He says it so nonchalantly that you feel chills run up and down your spine.

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?”

“Do you oppose me?” The Slender Man asks. “I am being more than generous, aren’t I?”

“Don’t take this offer for granted,” you hear Masky quietly add. Somewhere, deep in the back of your mind, you can hear Masky telling you not to push him too far.

Hesitantly, you nod, voice too weak to say anything physically.

The Slender Man’s tendrils suddenly retract from you, sending you roughly to the carpeted floor.

You yelp as you come into contact with the carpet and slowly gather yourself as you try to push down the aches and pains that bloom on your joints and shins that hit the ground particularly hard. You cough a bit as air returns to your lungs and struggle to stand.

“Do what you must,” the Slender Man waves off, turning his back to both you and Masky.

Masky finally breaks from his stance and moves quickly to your side to help you up.

At first, you try to smack his hand away, but upon realizing you’re too weak to even see straight, accept his hand and his arm when you’re standing upright. He smells of cigarettes and some out of date cologne. It’s not bad.

The two of you hobble out of the Slender Man’s office with Masky’s eyes never leaving your form. After all, you are his responsibility now. He continues to lead you through a mansion you’ve grown to despise and out into the warm summer morning. The Slender Man could never imitate the beauty of earth to its entirety, that much was apparent.

“Where are we going?” You ask in a rough voice, attempting in vain to clear it by coughing.

“Stop that,” Masky sighs as the two of you cross the lawn. “To the parking lot, getting in the car, then driving across the border to Mississippi. We’ve got a temp there,” he murmurs. “You good?” He’s mentally wondering why your healing hasn’t damage controlled this yet. Probably the boss still being mad at you is the best reason he can come up with.

“Do I look like I’m good?” You dryly respond, eyes squinting slightly as the fog begins to kick up. You know you’re reaching the end of his reach. Once the fog clears up almost as quickly as it appeared, you realize the Slender Man’s practically kicked you both out of his realm. The walk was always longer when you truly were his. He must be severely pissed off at you. In a way, you’re lucky he didn’t kill you from the get go.

It’s best not to dwell on that thought though.

The rest of the walk is quiet and you’re in the car before you can count to 100 (your numbers are very jumbled though). You slide into the passenger seat and feel a little better at being able to rest.

Masky slides into the driver’s seat and sighs as he grips the wheel. “You have any questions, you ask them now in the car. I’m not putting up with your bullshit when we get to the temp.”

You roll your eyes and look out the window. “Who are you?”

“Masky, you heard him,” he’s pulling out of the parking lot and mentally thanking the gods he wasn’t killed alongside you. When the boss is in such a questionable mood, there’s no telling what’ll happen.

“You know damn well what I meant,” you cough slightly.

Masky scoffs before reaching into the backseat for a moment. His fingertips brush a water bottle, and upon realizing that’s what it is, grasps it and then tosses it to you.

You nod and take a sip, mentally frowning that the water’s been heated in the morning summer sun.

“I’m a group leader. Probably haven’t heard of us though, we’re not terribly monumental,” he begins as he flicks the turn signal on. “You’ve got three other people to watch out for. Hoodie, he’s the right hand, Toby, he’s essentially our middle child, and Kate. You’re replacing her and the hazing process will start up,” he finishes, now matching pace with the other cars that sparsely decorate the expressway.

You pout slightly and press your lips into a thin line as you gaze out the window at the rolling scenery. You’ve been here before. You’ve brought people back here this exact way before. They’re all unwanted memories. In response, your body language becomes unreadable.

This does not go unnoticed by Masky. “Yeah the attitude isn't gonna work,” he says as he glances over at you. “C’mon, you’ve been through this process before. We all have - what gives?”

With a sigh, you flick your eyes over to him to gauge his mood. He seems genuinely curious. “You do know that I ran away for a reason, right?”

Masky nods. “Sure, it was stupid though.” He takes a hand off the wheel for a moment to open his window. “What did you think would happen?” Sounds like he’s trying to pick at your brain.

“Anything but this,” you gesture angrily to your current situation. “I hoped to never see him again,” you groan, clearly frustrated. You chug some more water.

Masky breathes out slightly, as if he’s judging your answers. “Whatever. Forget about pulling something like that again because I’ll personally come after you if it comes to that,” he claims in a tone that’s far too serious.

You roll your eyes slightly, “sure, like you’ll-”

His eyes shift on the expressway, and after ensuring there’s no one that’ll cause a pile up on behalf of him, he hits the brakes, sending you lurching forward into the dashboard.

“What the hell?” You cry out in an exasperated tone, struggling to peel yourself up from the dashboard. You cry out in shock again as you feel his hand at the back of your head, successfully grinding your skull into the heated polyvinyl chloride.

“Get that thought of your fucking head,” he hisses, raising your head slightly before smacking it back down.

You growl back and relent. Once the pressure from his arm is gone, you shove him off of you. The car picks up pace again and you notice him wave to a person who passes by - they have a mildly concerned expression - and he smiles like he didn’t just slam your skull into PVC.

Welcome back to the proxy life.

You make it to Mississippi by mid afternoon. Masky brings the car down some dirt path where a house lays right on the Mississippi river, and you can smell traces of blood. They must’ve cleared the previous residents out.

There, on the porch in a muscle tee holding a can of coke is a man with his left cheek missing. He twitches slightly as he waves at you and Masky.

“T-This her?”

Masky nods.

“Can’t b-believe she g-g-gave Wallace’s g-g-group the s-slip,” he says in a slightly amused, slightly annoyed tone.

“Word travels that fast?” Masky replies with a slight chuckle.

The proxy before you nods with a small smile, “c’mon. I wanna g-g-get out of this h-heat. It’s a-a-awful out here,” he says with a playful grimace as he slowly rises from the front step where he had been sitting.

“Is Kate happy?” Masky asks as he watches Toby head in, then nods for you to go.

With a small frown, you do so. At least it’s air conditioned.

“Over the moon,” a feminine voice cuts in from the kitchen. She’s stirring a thing of lemonade.

Masky smiles slightly and takes a seat at the table. “We weren’t that bad,” Masky notes as Kate slides a glass of lemonade to the group leader.

She raises a brow at Toby who glances down to his open pop can. “So, this is the one he wanted alive for this term?” She questions as she glances at you, silently asking if you’d like some.

You mouth a ‘please’ before getting comfortable at the table.

“Weirdly, yeah,” Masky replies before taking a languid sip. “Thought he was gonna go for someone with more street cred, but, whatever. She’s our problem now,” he shrugs.

You look down into the pastel yellow liquid and furrow your eyebrows in annoyance. All of this, it was wrong. You hadn’t had to play by proxy rules in a year, and here you were, bottom of the rung, the runt. You hadn’t been a runt in gods know how long.

Conversation begins to flow between the three people around you as glasses of lemonade are poured. You sit in silence, listening because you know it’s not your place to speak. As far as proxy culture goes, you don’t really have any rights. Well, you’re in a better place than independents, but according to other proxies, you’re a glorified errand boy. They say to jump and you’re supposed to ask ‘how high?’ Your group’s word becomes gospel.

Apparently, Kate was this group’s runt before you came in. But, runts only stay runts for a certain amount of time. It’s possible for groups to not have runts - and that’s essentially what this group was doing. Kate had outgrown her runt status and was well considered the youngest (in experience) member of their group but had the same social standing as Toby. While it was a joke to refer to her as a runt, they hadn’t had one for a while.

That’s where you come in. You’re the first member to be considered a runt in quite some time. And you can tell they’ve been itching to take it out on someone.

“Where’s Hoodie?” Masky asks as his fingertips trace the lip of his glass. “Should be thrilled to see we’ve got another one.”

“Only t-thing holding h-him back from h-hurting you is the f-f-f-fact the O-Operator asked f-f-for us to t-take her,” Toby giggles slightly as he crushes another pop can. “He’s h-h-handling something, Should be c-c-coming back now, though.”

“Speak of the devil and the devil will appear,” you hear another man’s voice chuckle as the front door swings gently open.

Standing in the doorway holding a crowbar and wearing a white t-shirt is Hoodie - sans hoodie. It’s much too hot to be wearing one anyways. He haphazardly tosses the crowbar to the floor before closing the front door behind him, then begins walking towards the kitchen.

“This is her?” He asks as he takes a seat next to Masky, silently thanking Kate for the lemonade.

“Disappointing, right?” Kate lightly jokes, making Hoodie smile.

“In this form, sure,” Hoodie observes as his hazel eyes rake over your form. “She looks weak, scrawny, low endurance, probably forgot all her skills, what, with her being missing for a year?” He says it like it’s a game but looks at you like he despises you. “Not training her. Not my problem, and especially not in this heat.”

“She’s part of our group,” Masky replies in a slightly exasperated tone.

“No-Nose goes,” Toby suddenly blurts out.

Everyone presses their index to their nose except for Masky, who sighs dejectedly.

“For fuck’s sake,” he grumbles. “Let’s go, Reader. You’ve been awfully quiet.” The brown haired man says in a less than pleased tone, picking his glass up and momentarily pausing to place it in the sink.

You quietly follow in suit, nodding to your other comrades before following him out.

The nice thing about waiting for Hoodie to stir things up was that it was the late afternoon. The sun was beginning to sink below the horizon, and a breeze was beginning to shift through the air. It wasn’t near as hot due the sun no longer beating down on you. Besides, it was nice to get out of the house for a bit.

Masky and his group must have been staying here for a while, because he walked into the woods on this deer path like it was nothing and led you to a clearing. There were a few training things, but nothing of any substance - just a temporary fix until they were somewhere more permanent. Proxies are nomadic, after all.

“You still have a knife on you?”

“I would’ve stabbed you with it.”

He shoots you a look as if to tell you to watch your mouth and you holds your hands up.

“I’m joking,” you defend. “When I meant I wanted to never look back, I truly, deep down to my bones, meant it.”

Masky’s hand goes to his belt loop where he takes out a knife. It’s… severely dulled. Looks like he doesn’t trust you just yet.

“See that dummy? Show me what you remember and I’ll decide if we’re out here until midnight or not.”

The dummy in question looks gods awful. It’s missing an arm, the stuffing is all over the grass, and the poor thing looks like it can’t support its own weight anymore. You wonder which one of your comrades got it to this state of if this was a group effort.

You narrow your eyes and get a hold of the blade in your grasp. It’s much nicer than a kitchen knife - reminds you of what you used to use when you were but a shadow in the night. You glance at him, then the dummy, and decide to get to work.

There’s no use in running. The Slender Man will hunt you down regardless, and he won’t be as merciful the second time around.

“Stop stalling,” Masky chides.

You take in a breath, and do as told.

To say six months passed with ease would be a lie. It’s been six months of hell - and that’s mostly because you’re a runt paired with the fact you never wanted to be back here to begin with.

It’s been strange, you’ll give it that. The proxy in you took over faster than the human side of you could and you integrated back into proxy culture and society far easier than anyone expected. Of course, there were some moments where your group members would ruffle your feathers and put you in your place, but that was expected. To be a proxy is to be put under fire until you prove yourself otherwise.

You’ve gone on operations with them. Took lives again. Stole things again. You settled back into the life you originally left behind as if you’d never departed to begin with. That’s how deep the proxy mindset and muscle memory is embedded into those it takes hold of. It sets itself out to be the only thing you’ll ever know. You live by it, you die by it.

So, where have you been for the past six months? Well, still in Mississippi. About two weeks after you first arrived with your new group, you and the group moved down south near the ocean and have been staying there the entire time. Luckily, this place was considered a temp house for the people who owned it - they liked spending time in Europe - which left this place as yours. Besides, the Slender Man likes having you close. He was able to periodically check in on you with you being a few hours away as opposed to days. Why he was so interested in you, you’ll never know.

According to both him, and Masky, you’d been making good progress. By the end of your six months (lovingly referred to as a “trial run” by your group), you were half way back to what you used to be. It was disheartening to only hear “half” but it was better than nothing. A part of you wonders why you’re so inclined to get better when you should be focusing on leaving.

It’s not like you didn’t try.

You tried so many times that your group started a tally board and whoever found you first got a mark under their name. Whoever hit five before the board was reset got the next operation (or operation of their choosing) off. For the first few weeks when you were but a stranger with them, the punishments were harsh and unforgiving, like they hate you to your core. But, as the months went on, they went from fists to phrases. Eventually, you stopped trying to run so they no longer had to beat you. Every time you got that far off look in your eye, someone would reprimand you. It’s probably because they cared about you.

That’s common for proxies, bonding with your teammates on a level outsiders can’t understand. It’s mostly to keep you safe while out in the field. And unfortunately for you, you’ve been feeling that way towards your group. You’ve covered for each one at least once, and that gesture doesn’t go unnoticed. You’re in a strange place, if you’re being honest.

Take for instance now, back in the passenger seat of a car and heading back to Rosswood with Masky (he told you his real name is Tim) to talk with the Slender Man face to face. While the others in your group have been keeping up with him regularly, you haven’t seen him in person since well, six months ago. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have butterflies in your stomach as you draw closer to the woods you once considered home.

“You nervous?” Masky hums as he turns the radio down.

“Yeah,” you reply, gazing out at the rolling fields again. “What if he-”

“It’d be stupid of him,” Masky cuts you off. “Six months of putting all this time and effort only to off you? Just… Just don’t say anything stupid,” he reminds you, a slight teasing tone lingering on his words. He looks at you with gentle eyes.

You scoff playfully. “Eyes on the road, weirdo.”

Standing in the Slender Man’s office this time as a welcome guest is weird. There’s still the scent of jasmine and incense, but there’s also something sweeter - like a memory he’s trying to provoke specifically for you. It’s warm, but not uncomfortably so, and it doesn’t feel near as suffocating as did that first time.

“You’ve certainly changed,” a deep voice says with an audible smile as it reverberates through your head.

“Sir,” you bow your head slightly.

“I’m going to make this short,” the Slender Man begins. “Miss Reader, I am satisfied with your progress these past six months.”

“Thank you, Sir,” both you and Masky reply.

The tall man hums. “However, you have only reached half of what you used to be. I believe the longer you stay in this group, the better you will become.”

You take in a sharp breath.

“Does that bother you?” The Slender Man doesn’t sound mad.

“I…”

Masky mentally clicks his tongue at you, and you glance over through the corner of your eye.

You decide to respond carefully. “I know normalcy… Sir, I don’t know if this life was ever meant for me, but,” you take in a deep breath and ball your fists to ground yourself. “If this is what you want of me, I will do it.”

The Slender Man chuckles. “Timothy, you’ve done an excellent job with this one. Perhaps I should have placed Pariah with you,” he emptily thinks aloud with another slight laugh. “I regret to inform you Miss Reader, that normalcy was never an option. You will go back with your team and you will continue to better yourself until I say otherwise.” He makes no move to stand from his desk, but his hands reach out.

Taking that as a nonverbal cue, you and Masky stand and each take a large hand.

The Slender Man’s fingers close around your much smaller hands before his hand leaves your grasp entirely. Instead of striking you, he gently cups your cheek. “Now go. I look forward to seeing you in six months.” The warmth is gone from his tone but lingers like doused coals in a still simmering fireplace.

“Thank you for your time,” Masky bows slightly, nodding for you to follow.

Without any other words, you nod to your boss and follow Masky out. The two of you trade silent conversation as you exit the mansion and back to the car. You slip in just like you did six months ago, and so too does Masky. The car comes to life, and you begin to peel out of the parking lot, back to Mississippi.

“How are you feeling?” Masky asks as he pulls down the sun visor after squinting at the beams of light.

“Not as bad as I thought,” you say in slight surprise. “Maybe it just hasn’t sunk in yet.”

“Or,” Masky begins. “You were always meant for this.”

You laugh in response and smack his shoulder lighter. “You know you’re not slick, right?” You tease as you stick your tongue out.

Masky chuckles deeply and gets back on the expressway. “I try when I can.”

“Oh really?” You pretend to be shocked. “Where was that smooth talking when I first met you?”

“Out the window because I just met you,” he retorts, a smirk playing on his lips.

“You are literally the worst,” you teasingly scoff.

“Right back at you,” Masky breathily laughs. His dark eyes stay focused on the road as

you get comfortable in the passenger seat.

“Really though,” you say as you stretch slightly. “Thanks for not killing me.” You look at him with such gentle eyes that he can’t help but smile just as genuinely in response.

Masky won’t lie, he was admittedly worried for you in the beginning. What with you running away all the time, speaking ill of literally everyone, almost getting everyone caught by the cops… You were colorful, for lack of better words. It’s been nice cultivating that into something better. Maybe you’d make something of yourself out of this garbage fire of a hiccup.

“It’s nothing,” he shrugs. “It’s my responsibility to watch out for you anyways,” he says as before honking at someone who almost swerved into your lane. “Besides, you’re not all too bad, and as long as it’s me making sure you don’t set shit on fire… Think we’ll be just fine.” He looks over at you and smiles warmly - it feels like the sun - before he turns back to the road.

You hum contentedly as your hand reaches for the radio. You turn up the music and let it play, a serene, comfortable silence falling between the two of you.

#reader #x reader #reader insert #masky #hoodie #marble hornets #creepypasta x reader #tim wright x reader #masky x reader #slender man

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monster-noises · 2 years

Text

Mmmmm

I'm having a good time working on this commission, but i don't know whether i should take that as a sign that i should loosen the gates a bit and be open to accepting more commissions in a more official capacity instead of just telling everyone who asks 'yeah sometimes'

There's a feeeew.. factors at play here.. that just.. idk i'm cautious about my proverbial eyes being bigger than my proverbial stomach y'know?

Like.. I'm slow.. as an artist? My speed can vary certainly but if you want anything done Nicely i'm a bit of a snail... It can take me WEEKS to get something done if my hands+mind aren't cooperating, or if i get in one of those loops where i just don't have Time for anything.. sometimes it's a reasonable slowness and sometimes it's like... A Bit Much and I know people can be patient but it's not necissarily something i would want to Risk

I also know that i have a Lot of personal projects i want to get done and i don't want to take up all my limited working time doing commissions and sideling everything i'm working on otherwise, cause that's the fastest route to me burning out and falling away from art.. there's a Reason i have ended up casting aside any ideas about working in animation or game development, hell, even traditional publishing to a degree or traditional freelance, because art for me is by and large about getting whats in my head Out of my head, not the act of creating itself...

Which makes it kinda feel like commissions are something i should do.. once i'm already a full time artist for myself and have the time to split? Which seems counterintuitive....

As it stands though i have to scrape out my art time out around my day job and life needs and what i'm able to scrape is sacred and limited. i just don't work fast enough to make the most of it.. particularly if i'm handelling a queue of folks and not just one or two people on special request... It just wouldn't be good for me or my potential clients

which is kinda a TL:DR of my concerns i guess...

But on the flip side.. money for my work is.. Nice.. making people happy with my art is Really Nice (i just think about how i feel about my commission from Lucy and it's like AH! I wanna do that for people, and people seem to want it!)

if we face another lockdown it would be reeeeal helpful if i can't get back on EI or if they've changed the system, and i'm going to be making a job transition soon hopefully and maybe that will lessen the burden of my Time Problems, and it would help cover that transition period if anything gets Loopy.. plus the experience is good! In a professional capacity..

And it might be fun who knows! I have more of a.. Niche now, there's definitely stuff people Want Me Specifically For (okay "stuff" it's heisenberg.. probably.. but i'm happy to oblige! I work best when i'm invested in the things i'm working on, which was a problem last time around) it could be a good experience to branch out a lil, take in other ideas, not have to come up with everything and still draw excellent picture of the metal husband and/or other people's OCs! Or the other lords! Or whatever people want really! It's got the potential to be enjoyable!

I've grown a lot since the last time i tried to open commissions, and so idk maybe it would be different! But I don't want to let these lofty ideas get into my head for something that just may not be realistic for me... GAH

Hhhhh....

They'll stay on an ask-and-see-if-i'm-available status for now.. and of course those who've already approached me take precident when they want somethin', but i'll keep thinking about it..

Who knows! Maybe like most things that happen to me, I won't get to make the choice and i'll be forced into a position where i Have to open them!

#monster noises #my limited time i think is the root of all my concerns #if i wasn't so constrained by that i think i'd be way more open to putting out the word publically #still don't think i could handle a queue any larger than 3 people at once thought #even THAT feels iffy #and not that i think That Many people would be interested #it's just that.. enough Have been over the last few months to get the wheels turning #it always feels like the highest compliment to get those asks.... like holy shit! people want to put down Money? for MY art??????#like.. wow....#pricing too.. i'm just now thinking.. would be an issues #i know what i'be quoted to people is Way undercharging myself #(especially because i mainly do traditional commissions which can be much more labour intensive and challenging #but are easier for me to focus on)#but i absolutely do not know how/what to charge to get a good baseline of Reasonable but Afforable #like what are Most people willing to spend on (continuing yo make the assumption about subject matter here) fanart?#admittedly special and often personal fan art granted but None The Less #what would they pay? what can they on average afford?#i know what I would pay (the answer it Quiet a Bit - I love supporting artists) but i'm not a good means measurement for Anything #how do i deal with shipping???!!?!#there's so many questions @~@

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leftonraed · 3 years

Text

The Night We Met - Episode 1

pairing : Taehyung x OC genre : bodyguard!au, singleparent!au, idol!au word count : 2.4k summary — Taehyung gets terrible news and finds himself in a delicate situation

Prologue | ep.1 | ep.2 | ep.3 | ep.4 | ep.5 | ep.6 | ep.7

The past month has been a complete blur. If you asked Taehyung to narrate the course of events after the moment he had been in charge of his niece, he wouldn’t be able to, especially when that small time frame included the one event he thought he’d never attend this quickly in his lifetime —

Hwiin got a little startled after he answered the door. While gauging his mood after several weeks of silence, she couldn’t take her eyes off the sullen man who seemed absent.

He was dressed in a dark suit. His hair was fully covering his eyes and had been dyed black, she was just at that moment able to notice it’d never been that long before.

The small heels of his shoes echoed loudly inside as he shuffled towards the living-room.

The gloomy winter sky, visible through the wide windows, narrowed the penthouse and gave the impression they lived in a black and white movie.

The shades of grey clashed unpleasantly with the barely audible cartoons displayed on the wide flat screen where Hina was sitting in front of. She hardly glanced Hwiin’s way.

She removed her purse and coat and put them on the couch while Taehyung kissed and whispered words to his niece. He didn’t get any response either. He stood up and joined Hwiin.

“I didn’t know how to do this-” he trailed softly as her eyes followed his hands feebly unfolding a paper with her eyes. He cleared his throat constricted with sorrow, “I wrote a couple of things down. If I forgot anything, send a text.”

She took it from him and realised she hadn’t said anything yet. What were you supposed to say in this situation, she wondered. The man she thought she knew so well almost struck her as a stranger and left her struggling for the right words.

Hwiin carefully looked up at him and felt her heart hurting at his sight. She should’ve been there for him those past weeks. She became angry with herself the longer she stared at his forlorn expression.

“Taehyung...” She hugged him tightly, as her way to make it up to him. He remained still. He didn’t want Hina to see him break down and cry.

“Thank you,” he only managed to whisper before she took a step back.

She quietly watched him walk out and never before had she felt a greater need to be by his side. She didn’t do anything of this sort.

She walked around the couch to sit next to the little girl she had been requested to look after for the day and tried to empty her mind. All she wanted was for this day to end.

So did he.

___________________________________________

He didn’t seem present during the entirety of the funeral.

His parents, he used to be so close to but had drawn away from after his debut as an idol, didn’t even manage to make him say anything. They didn’t bother him about it and respected his own way of mourning the family loss.

Taehyung could sense his brother’s in-laws itching to ask him about Hina but held themselves.

While he made other attendees think he looked elsewhere and “too expressionless” in their opinion, he’d actually been doing his best to keep it to himself. He couldn’t tell what helped him hide his emotions, it was so unlike him but he had held steady.

He was right behind his home’s door when he heard Hina’s cries before he even walked in.

Worry instantly frowned his face as he found Hwiin holding the little girl in her arms, soothing her.

“She’s been crying the whole time since she woke up from her nap,” she informed him with a hint of despair. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Hina looked at him and he felt his feet naturally pulling him towards her when her arms stretched outward in his direction.

He held her closely and she tightened him to herself, burying her face in his neck.

He would never know for sure but she sounded grief-stricken and gave him the impression that he was the only one left capable of assuaging her.

Taehyung felt his legs give in and knelt down.

He was finally giving in.

Tears, held deeply back within, coursed down in an unbroken stream to dampen her dress. His body hiccoughed his ache so violently, it seemed it wanted to retaliate for the strains he’d inflicted himself.

Hwiin watched silently with sorrowful eyes as the two of them sought comfort in each other. She caught herself wondering if his niece somehow understood she’d never see her parents again.

__________________________________________

Taehyung never questioned his brother’s wish to have him take care of his daughter if something were to happen. He isn’t living the ideal kind of life to raise a toddler and there are many to criticize him about it, his manager being the first of them, but having Hina feels surprisingly right.

He’s grateful to have her keeping his mind off things but she also reminds him unintentionally of her father and the other way around will inevitably happen.

He sometimes ponders the doubts he has as a caretaker, unpleasant thoughts that come flooding his mind every time he’d fail doing the right thing or get rejected by her; he gives a chance to others scenarios playing out different outcomes but they never satisfy him.

He seeks comfort in the reality that he needs a lot of time to get better at it and that there’s no reason to rush. It’ll give him enough to make his mind about the way he’ll have to address their reality one day.

One of his priorities is to make sure his home has everything his niece would need. This meant visiting his brother’s empty house. Hwiin had asked him if he’d need her but he preferred to be on his own and planned not to linger longer than necessary.

__________________________________________

“You didn’t tell me what you’re planning to do about the few shows left,” Hwiin suddenly initiates, locking her phone.

Taehyung sighs when Hina whines at his umpteenth attempts to keep her from drawing on the wall. Defeated, he stands up to show his manager out.

“Did you hear from Seojun?”

“Nope. I sent him a text a few days ago. He never answers my calls.”

“I can’t see myself going anywhere with her. And I’m definitely not bringing her with me.”

It’s Hwiin’s turn to sigh, although she does it out of light exasperation. “What about my babysitter idea?”

“Out of question.” She lifts her head at his sudden firm tone. “I don't want her to be around strangers.”

“What will you do if you don’t hear from him anymore? Taehyung, you can’t stay at home indefinitely.”

“If I have no choice-” He cuts off himself. “I’m sure everyone will understand.”

She pinches her lips and cranes her neck up to stare somewhere in the empty hallway, keeping her calm.

Leaning on the hand he’s holding the door with, Taehyung tilts his head to glance at her with a hint of amusement.

“I’ll call him myself.”

She looks back at him and blinks slowly, thankful. They say their goodbyes and he closes the door.

When he comes back, Hina’s still putting the finishing touches to her art and Taehyung ponders the thought of throwing the felt tips away once she’s done with them.

He plops himself down on the couch and takes his phone out of his pocket. He quickly finds his bodyguard’s number and makes a phone call. The line rings once.

“Taehyung!”

“H-hi,” he answers, surprised at the man’s quick answer. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

“I’m happy you called! I’m doing really good. What about you?”

“I’m okay- I think.”

“I know you’ve heard it when we last talked but I’m really, really sorry.”

“Thank you. I’m doing okay, ‘promise.”

Seojun doesn’t need to see him to doubt his words but gives him the benefit of the doubt. He tries to change the subject, “How’s the little one doing?”

“Good…” Taehyung’s gaze is directed at Hina's long hair. “I still didn’t get one word from her though.”

“Don’t worry about it, she’ll talk when she’s ready. You shouldn’t force these things.”

Taehyung hums in thought. “How did your break go? How’s everyone ?”

“Very good. Everyone’s doing great.”

“Glad to hear that!” Taehyung smiles a lazy grin and remembers the purpose of his call. “Seojun, I’m sorry I bring this a little abruptly but- when do you think you’ll be coming back? Hwiin told me she tried to contact you-”

“Ah yes,” he suddenly exclaims. “I actually wanted to talk to you directly.”

Amused, Taehyung’s brows furrow slightly. “Right.”

“I’ve never liked the way she looked down on people. But you do well to bring that up.”

He frowns a little more, anticipating.

“I… I don’t think I’ll be coming back anytime soon, Taehyung.” There’s a short pause. “I've been thinking about it lately and we’ve talked a lot with my wife… The fact is that- my family misses me and I miss them.”

Taehyung doesn’t know what to say immediately, “I’m sorry to hear that... But I understand.”

“Really? It’s just that- they’ve barely seen me the past six years and I thought maybe I needed to extend that break for a little longer while.” Seojun feels terrible now that he’s brought the news. As if the death of his brother wasn’t enough of a change.

“I totally do- I just- I don’t know what to do to keep working and look after my niece at the same time. I mean, th- there’s no one else I trust equally to look after her when I can’t.”

“I know and I’ve made sure you guys wouldn’t be left hanging.” He’s quick to reply, “I found someone to take over. Your agency’s already abreast of it. They’re okay to hire that person but they told me they wouldn’t make any decision until they get your last word.”

“Can you tell me more about him?”

“It’s actually a woman, she’s around your age. She’s attended the same security school I did and was the top of her class. I know her personally and was the one who offered to take the helm. I wouldn’t recommend anyone else to stand in for me.”

Taehyung would never doubt Seojun. They regard each other as family, so if Seojun trusted that woman enough to take charge of his responsibilities, he wouldn’t question him further.

“Okay.”

And it’s not like he could think of a better solution to tell Hwiin.

Seojun is relieved when he hears his answer, however he can feel he doesn’t seem totally convinced.

“I promise you, you won’t miss me once she starts.”

___________________________________________

“Hina,” complains Taehyung. “Why are you being so difficult? I thought you liked mashed carrots.”

He’s helpless and covered in what once has been her lunch. She’s on the verge of crying and shaking her legs, irritated. Her arm sways her small plate and Taehyung catches it before she makes an even bigger mess. She starts whining loudly.

“One second,” he mutters while cleaning her stained face before standing up to take her out of the high chair. She stops crying and leaves to watch cartoons still on T.V.

“I’ll go change. I’ll be in the bedroom,” he announces like he doesn’t know he’ll be ignored and leaves.

The doorbell rings a couple of minutes after, taking both Taehyung and Hina by surprise.

Seeing her uncle nowhere around, she stands up to totter toward the entrance holding onto her soft toy. Taehyung just got rid of his dirty clothes when he decides to come out only dressed in a pair of red boxers, remembering he’s expecting Hwiin to come by.

He finds Hina trying to reach for the handle, perched on her tippy-toes.

“Let me help you,” he smiles lightly at her when he looks down, seeing her small face after she craned her neck to the fullest. He taps in the security code and opens and she hurries to push it wide open.

“Hello.”

Hina walks to go behind him at the sight of a stranger. There’s a short silent while that lasts awfully long the second Taehyung understands he’s in his underwear and that he doesn’t recognize you.

“You’re not Hwiin,” he trails quietly.

You shake your head looking back at him very calmly.

From the corner of your eye, you notice his niece hiding behind his leg, peeking shyly at you. You squat at her level and blood rushes up Taehyung’s cheeks.

“You’re Hina, right?” You look at her. “This is for you.”

He pulls himself together. “You didn’t have to,” he chuckles abashed.

His niece stares at the toy piano you offer her. You press one key to make a sound and lit it up in hopes to get her pleased with it.

Taehyung can’t help but think a gift is the last thing she deserves after the tantrum she threw just minutes ago. “Say thank you, Hina.”

She carefully takes it from you and there’s a hint of a satisfied smile on your lips.

“Who’s Hwiin?” You gaze up at Taehyung.

Shit. You need to get up. He needs to put on some clothes, he thinks.

“My manager. Are you-”

“Y/N, your new bodyguard.” You straighten up with your hands behind you.

“Taehyung. Nice to meet you.” He feels Hina, pulling the hem of his boxers and swiftly takes her in his arms. She keeps an iron grip on the toy. “Uh- Please, come in.”

You step inside when he moves away and closes the door behind you. He stares at you as you take a look around, surprised you remain unaffected by his lack of clothing but still thinks it’s not the appropriate way he should have welcomed you in.

“I’m sorry about the mess, I didn’t know you’d come home so early.” He explains as he puts down Hina. “Make yourself at home. ‘Be right back.”

You watch him disappear without a word, his niece follows him while gazing curiously at you. You bring your eyes back on the splendid view the penthouse overlooks.

When Taehyung comes back, closely followed, you’re still standing nearby the window. He’s intrigued and curious as to what made you so special in Seojun’s eyes.

///////////////////////!\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\

Feedback very much appreciated Reblog if you wish to read more

#taehyung smut #taehyung scenarios #Taehyung fluff #bts smut #bts scenarios #taehyung angst #bts imagines #bts reactions #Taehyung x oc #taehyung x reader #bts fluff #bts angst

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tendercrispstan · 2 years

Text

The Worst That Could Happen, Pt. 3

Eventually Viktor x OC fic based on Netflix’s Arcane. No warnings beyond what’s already in canon. SFW. Prev: Part 1, Part 2. Cross-posted to AO3.

Unfortunately for Ada, there were a few other people that still needed to agree with the bargain. The Hextech founders, for one (or two).

Heimerdinger went straight from the holding cells to the laboratory to tell them the good news in chipper tones.

Their responses were mixed.

“That’s great!” Jayce said.

At the exact same time, Viktor said, “Why would you ever agree to such a thing, much less suggest it?”

Jayce shot Viktor a look. Then he turned to Heimerdinger. “Will you excuse us for a moment?”

“Of course. I understand this is quite a surprise to you gentlemen. Please, take a moment to confer.”

“Thank you.”

Jayce clapped Viktor on the shoulder and guided him away from Heimerdinger towards their desks. Viktor, scowling, let himself be guided.

“What was that about?” Jayce hissed.

“I could ask you the same thing.”

“I thought you wanted to get back to research.”

“Yes, and Heimerdinger shackling us to some ridiculous bureaucrat is not going to help matters.”

“She’s a stray he picked up! He does that sometimes. What part of ‘she got arrested’ makes you think she’s a ridiculous bureaucrat?”

“The part where the Council, besides you, would ever agree to go along with it.” Viktor paused. “Although, wait a minute… if you didn’t know about this either…” He turned and raised his voice. “Professor, what did the Council think of this idea?”

“I haven’t asked them yet. I was going to request a hearing for approval after speaking to you boys.”

Viktor rolled his eyes and made an irritated noise at Jayce, too quietly for Heimerdinger to hear.

Jayce was undeterred. “See? The Council hasn’t approved anything. She’s a rogue element. Maybe she won’t be a ridiculous bureaucrat, the others will hate her, and they’ll think it’s a terrible idea.”

“It is a terrible idea.”

“Why?”

“Because having someone sitting around inventing reasons why our work cannot move forward or adding needless layers of complexity is not my idea of progress!”

“At least if we have someone finding specific problems we can fix them. Then maybe Heimerdinger will be satisfied and we can get on with our work instead of this abstract ‘maybe in a decade’ thing.”

Viktor sighed. “I don’t like this.”

“Yes, I gathered that. But I don’t see a lot of alternatives that let us keep doing our research and keep Heimerdinger happy. We can keep doing our research, I’ll keep chasing down leads on the break-in, and we get someone else to do the boring work figuring out where we need safeguards. Everyone wins.”

Viktor looked unconvinced. “I don’t like this,” he repeated quietly. But he turned back to Heimerdinger with a look of resignation. “When can we expect her to start?” he asked. “Pending the Council’s approval, of course,” he added, in a lower voice and with a pointed look at Jayce.

“I’ll draw up a proposal, and we’ll add it to the agenda for the council meeting later today. If the rest of the Council agrees, she can start tomorrow.”

“You’ll have my vote,” Jayce said firmly. “And I suspect Mel—darda will vote in favor as well.”

Viktor’s eyebrow twitched up in surprise at Jayce’s slip, shooting his friend a curious look. Heimerdinger didn’t seem to notice.

“Splendid. I will see you at the hearing. Both of you, if you would be so kind.”

Viktor nodded in acknowledgment, and waved farewell to the Professor. He waited in silence for a moment, until the grand door to the laboratory had shut firmly behind the Yordle. Then, without turning his head, he said…

“Meldarda?”

*******

Viktor always dreaded sitting in on Council meetings, and yet somehow they always managed to be worse than his expectations. He tried to keep his mind occupied, framing it as an exercise in observing how many words a person could use without saying anything of substance. But it soon became clear that the answer was “too many” and Viktor found his mind wandering back to the lab, planning out the things he would work on when he got back.

He was debating with himself whether or not he should repeat an experiment for a third time (it had worked the first two, but results needed to be replicable) when Jayce elbowed him lightly. He sat up a little straighter and shook his head to focus on what was being said.

Councilor Medarda was speaking. “Our last item for the day, a proposal from Councilor Heimerdinger regarding the security of the Hexgates.”

Heimerdinger gestured to the guards. “Bring her in please.”

A few moments later, the guards returned through the enormous doors of the chamber with the subject in tow. Apparently some of the councilors had been expecting someone very different; he heard Hoskel let out a scoff, and Lady Kirammen murmured something to Councilor Shoola.

He could see why they were surprised. For one thing, she was wearing a fancy dress and had her dark hair pulled back in an elaborate updo secured with a large decorative pin — not the garb usually associated with prisoners brought before the council. For another, she didn’t look like a hardened criminal. She looked… sweet. She had a soft figure and a soft jawline, with dainty facial features that wouldn’t have looked out of place in Zaunite artwork. The only thing amiss with the picture of innocence was her sharp gaze, scanning the room.

Heimerdinger cleared his throat. “As some of you may know, in the aftermath of the break-in and the explosion, the Enforcers apprehended several individuals who they deemed suspicious. Among them: Miss Adelaide Gibson. Upon closer examination of her personal effects and a thorough discussion with her in person, it is clear to me that Miss Gibson meant no ill will to anyone. What’s more, with her remarkably astute notes and observations on the Hexgate’s operation, I believe she could provide valuable insight into the serious question we have all been pondering since the theft occurred: what could malefactors do with Hextech?” The professor let the question hang in the air a moment before he continued, clasping his hands behind his back. “I propose that all charges — except trespassing — be dropped, and that she be brought in to work in our laboratories to study Hextech and mitigate its weaknesses.”

Immediately and unsurprisingly, some of the councilors objected.

“If we are worried about the dangers of Hextech,” said Salo (in a voice that suggested he personally was not), “I’m not sure having someone invent ways to utilize those dangers is the most helpful activity. The thief already has the crystals, no need to hand them blueprints on a silver platter.”

Bolbok chimed in. “How can we trust her? She was found in possession of suspicious artifacts near a massive explosion. She could have been trying to blow up the Hexgates.”

At that, a flicker of irritation crossed Miss Gibson’s face — quickly suppressed, but unmistakably there, as if she was holding back a retort to the councilor’s remark but couldn’t school her facial expressions in time.

Councilor Medarda cut in smoothly. “If there are dangers to Hextech,” she said, “then surely those dangers already exist. Miss Gibson will simply be highlighting what is already clear to anyone clever enough to see it.”

“And helping us to fix those problems,” Jayce added.

The councilor nodded in acknowledgment, smiling faintly. “However, Councilor Bolbok does make an excellent point. She was brought into custody under suspicious circumstances. It would be imprudent to ignore those circumstances outright.”

She let the statement sink in a moment, the councilors muttering and discussing amongst themselves. Then she went on. “I propose that we amend Councilor Heimerdinger’s request. Miss Gibson will be cleared of all charges except trespassing, and will be tasked with helping Councilor Talis and his colleague identify weaknesses in existing Hextech and counteract those weaknesses. However, she will be on probation for one month, limited to the confines of the Academy and its grounds, and shall only enter the Hextech laboratories with an escort. In one month’s time, we shall re-evaluate based on her behavior and performance.”

At ‘his colleague’, Miss Gibson’s eyes flickered over to Viktor, visibly curious. Viktor averted his gaze, suddenly overcome by the feeling that he was staring at her. (Of course he was. She was the subject of the hearing.)

Heimerdinger nodded. “A wise suggestion of compromise from Councilor Medarda,” he said. “Shall we put it to a vote?”

Councilor Medarda surveyed the room. “All those in favor?”

Jayce put his hand up almost immediately, then Heimerdinger. There was a moment of consideration before Councilor Kirraman followed suit. Councilor Medarda raised her hand gracefully, then turned to look pointedly at Hoskel. He grimaced and shook his head, but reluctantly raised his hand in agreement.

Viktor heard Jayce let out a quiet sigh beside him. Evidently he hadn’t been sure what the decision would be. Miss Gibson looked equally relieved.

“We have a majority,” announced Councilor Medarda. “Miss Adelaide Gibson will be remanded to the custody of the Academy for probation and granted escorted access to the labs for one month.”

#arcane viktor #arcane oc #oc: ada gibson #arcane netflix #arcane jayce #jayce talis #heimerdinger #viktor tendercrisp

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enamoured-x · 4 years

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Can I get a Riot with plus sized WOC with a whole BAWSE ass attitude running her own shit. Rio hears about her from Mick and he goes to meet her and is hella surprised by her but loves it?

Hey, babe! So I didn’t incorporate part of this request because I don’t usually describe how the reader looks in any of my drabbles! (unless the story’s main focal point revolves around looks or if it’s an oc). It’s always up for interpretation and this way it’s never tailored to anyone specifically and anyone can fit into the reader! Does that make sense? Either way, I had so much fun with this and I lowkey want to include more parts and make it a mini series but… we’ll see. I hope you like it still! (gif not mine)

Rio hated to say that he was single and most definitely ready to get back into the game. And he hated to say that luck was not on his side. He went on a few dates but nothing ever stuck. Most of them seemed like they were only going out with him to spite their over protective dads. He was also having a hard time trying to sort out who would accept him and everything he does. That was obviously hard because there wasn’t a full proof plan for that. All the girls he gave a chance to seemed like they’d walk away as soon as they got a whiff of what he did. It was frustrating. He needed someone who understood him, someone who wouldn’t bat an eye at who he was. Which was what he expressed to Mick one night while they were playing pool. He usually wasn’t so straight forward with his feelings but he was growing tired of the failed attempts of finding someone right for him.

“You’re looking in all the wrong places.” Mick had told him as he took his turn.

“The hell you mean?”

“All these girls you’ve asked out are just like those suburban bitches. They’re too clean. You need someone who knows what it’s like to be dirty.” Mick explained as he kept taking turns after knocking balls in the sockets left and right.

“And where the hell do I find someone like that?” Rio asked, finally taking a turn on the table.

“I think I know someone you might like.” Mick suggested.

“Well, it wouldn’t hurt to try.” He shrugged and Mick agreed to make a call tomorrow.

You were busy today, well you were busy everyday it seemed like. You knew it came with the territory of building your empire. You had appearances to keep up, money to collect, and people to put down if they messed with any of it. It was hard, most days you were glad to get home and curl into bed. But lately you felt like there was a piece missing, someone missing. You were craving intimacy and love, something real. You had tried your hand at some blind dates that your friends set up but they were all busts. Guys who were threatened by a powerful woman such as yourself. Guys who clearly wanted to own you in some way or another. You needed someone who could match you. Someone who was fine letting you take control sometimes, someone who was your equal. Someone who wouldn’t be threatened by your power, only enthralled by it.

You felt like fate was hitting you over the head the day your old friend, Mick, called you. He had explained that he wanted to set his friend up and figured you two would get along really well. You had thought you were done with other people controlling who you went out with but Mick was different. You grew up with him and he knew what you liked and what you didn’t. He knew what you did as well, so you figured it wouldn’t hurt to give it a shot.

Fate was not with you the day your date was supposed to be though. Your right hand had explained to you that two men who had owed you money were trying to skip town. You had eyes on them at all times for this very reason but you never thought they’d be stupid enough to do it. So you had to call Mick to cancel, he seemed to be relieved as he was about to call you to cancel as well, explaining that something came up. You were fine with it. You could reschedule, after all. So you and your right hand, Gabby, went to pay the idiots a visit. When you got to the run down warehouse they were supposedly staying at, they were more than surprised to see you.

“Trying to run out on me?” You asked the men as you stepped into view. They had been laying low here. The sun would be setting soon but it was in full force right now as it shone through the windows, illuminating the space.

“Back the hell up.” One of them said, pulling a gun out and aiming it at you. Gabby straightened up and pulled her gun out, aiming it at him. You huffed out a laugh.

“Drop the gun, don’t make this worse for yourself.” You didn’t bother mentioning that they had already fucked up.

“Her first!” He flicked the gun in Gabby’s direction. You rolled your eyes but gave no orders to her.

“You’re a lot stupider than you look. First you try to cheat me and then you point a gun at me. Some would say you have a fucking death wish.” You said, not worried in the slightest about the situation. You had the situation handled. You just liked to play with your toys one last time before you tossed them.

“Look, I don’t have the money, okay? If you would give me time I could get it for you. You’re not the only one I owe money to!” He was frustrated and scared. The man next to him, Todd, looked ready to run as he watched the scene unfold.

“Oh, Johnny, are you in bed with someone else?” You asked, feigning offense as you put your hand over your heart.

“Who?” Gabby asked him.

“Me.” It was your turn to draw your gun and point as you whipped to the side to see two men. You lowered it slightly when you saw Mick. The other man you hadn’t seen before. He was fucking hot though. The tattoos, the laid back demeanor. Now what not the time.

“Mick?” You said his name, waiting for him to explain what the fuck was going on.

Gabby kept her gun on Johnny, making sure he didn’t try to run.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” You asked Mick.

“This is Rio.” Is all he said, motioning toward his friend. You heard about Rio in passing, but nothing that ever concerned you. You kept to your side of the city and he kept to his.

“We’re here because these pieces of shit owe me money and we caught word that they were trying to leave town.” Rio said as he glared in their direction before looking at you again. You didn’t miss the way his eyes roamed you up and down.

“Well, he owes me money too. Get in line.” You sassed. You didn’t want to be doing this right now. You tucked your gun back in your jeans knowing they weren't going to hurt you.

“Mmm, I think I should be getting paid first.” Rio said, making your blood boil. Who the fuck did he think he was?

“Well I was here first so wait your damn turn.” You crossed your arms.

He stepped closer to you, a small smirk forming on his lips.

“Why don’t we ask them who they’re going to pay first?” He suggested and you both turned to look at the two men. You were pretty sure they were about to piss themselves at the attention now on them from both of you.

“Seems like we’re not getting paid.” You confessed. You already knew it wasn’t going to happen on your way over here. If they were planning on skipping town and laying low in this shitty place, they barely had a few hundred to their names each. Nothing that could touch the thousands they owed you, and who knows how much they owed Rio.

“Well, if that’s the case, I can take these two off your hands.” He said and you scoffed.

“I can do it just fine, thank you.” You bit back. It was always the same shit, people thinking you couldn’t handle your own because you were a woman. Like you couldn’t get dirty.

“Maybe you can share then, mama.” He offered. You bit your lip. You looked to Mick who seemed amused but he nodded his head at you, silently vouching for Rio. You then turned to see the men practically shaking now.

“There are two of them…” You trailed off and Rio smirked.

“Fuck you!” Johnny yelled.

“Rock, paper, scissors? Whoever wins gets Johnny.” You suggested. Rio shook his head and laughed.

“You’re savage, I like that. But I’ll let you take him.” You were surprised at Rio’s words but you smiled.

“I’ll shoot you before you even get a chance!” Johnny yelled. You kept your eyes locked on Rio’s, now having a little more respect for him. And finding him suddenly more attractive.

“Your magazine is empty.” You said, not bothering to break your stare from Rio. He looked pleasantly surprised at your words.

“Wha-what? No it’s not.” He stumbled over his words. You had it on good authority that Johnny and his buddy got into an altercation a few days ago, resulting in a shootout. Of course you were just betting, but, you figured if he already used all his bullets, there was no way he’d spend what little money he had left to buy more. Besides, the gun was threatening enough. At least enough to get out of town without any problems. But he forgot to factor you in. He was counting you out and people usually regretted it.

“Really? Then shoot me.” You finally turned to him raising your arms from your sides. He swallowed hard at your words.

“Go on, do it. Sure, Gabby here would put a bullet in your head as soon as you pulled the trigger, but at least I’d be gone, right?” You taunted him as you stepped closer to him. His hand was shaking. You knew it was a bit reckless to put all your eggs in one basket, stupid to go off a hunch that he was out of bullets. But that's just how you operated. And besides, the way he was acting, well it was a dead giveaway in itself that you were right.

“It’s okay, Johnny. You tried.” Is all you said before you were close enough to snatch the gun out of his hands before he even knew what was happening.

“Run and I’ll shoot you in the legs.” Gabby said as the two men started to back up. They stopped at her words.

You released the magazine and showed it to Rio just for fun. Empty. You even made a show of checking the chamber but nothing. You smirked. You loved being right. Rio nodded his head in approval.

“Shall we get this over with?” You asked him.

Thirty minutes later, you and Rio were walking out of the building. Gabby and Mick taking care of the bodies for you both. Weirdly enough, they seemed to be getting along quite well.

“Have to say, you were kind of a badass back there.” He said as you two stopped walking once you got outside.

“Kind of?” He laughed.

“Okay, okay. You were a badass in there.” You smiled at his correction.

“And you were alright, I did get here faster than you.” You pointed out.

“Was getting ready for a date before I showed up here.” His words were the last puzzle piece. You had already sorted out that Rio was most definitely the man Mick was trying to set you up with.

“Yeah, a date with me.” You said.

“Wait, you were who Mick was talking about?” He asked confused but he was still smiling.

“It would seem so.”

“But how did you know?”

“Because you’re exactly my type.” You refrained from saying you never really had a type but you most certainly did now. He smirked at you.

“Well, how about a late dinner?” He asked. You were pleased he still wanted to go out with you after everything that just happened.

“You read my mind.”

#rio good girls #good girls rio #rio x reader #rio x you

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dimigex · 3 years

Text

Author Questionnaire

Thanks for the tag @cinlat This took forever so I'm not going to tag anyone else but please do it if you want, I'd love to know more about so many of the people I follow! And if you do it after seeing it here, tag me!

1. Name: Dimigex

2. Fandoms: Mostly Naruto and Overwatch. I've dabbled in Fullmetal and there are some others I think I could, but there's never enough hours

3. Where You Post: here on tumblr and A03 and Fanfiction.net

4. Most Popular One Shot: Hints (1331 kudos) which is a Kakashi/Iruka slow burn one shot in which Genma plays matchmaker. Honestly, I have no idea why it's so popular.

5. Most Popular Multi-chapter: Altered Reality (381 kudos lol) which is a Kakashi/Rin fix it fic that I honestly never meant to write lol

6. Actual Worst Part of Writing: Making it perfect through editing. I have always said that I am a terrible writer and a great editor but it is so time consuming. I want to get to the fun stuff and get bogged down fixing the plot and setting things up that I lose interest.

7. Favorite Story You Wrote: This is actually a really hard one for me. It's a toss-up between Falling Cherry Blossoms and I'll be the Moon. Falling Cherry Blossoms is an exploration of grief and what it would take to break Kakashi. and I'll be the Moon really delves into the complexity of love and relationships.

8. Story You Were Nervous To Post: Honestly, I'm nervous to post every story. No matter what someone says, writing is putting a piece of yourself out there for someone to take a look at. I was pretty nervous posting my first KakaYama smut which was in Surprised Disguise, where Kakashi surprises Tenzo as Sukea and gets way more than he bargained for. Distraction also made me nervous. It's a KakaSaku mututal pining where they enjoy themselves since they can't have each other.

9. How You Choose Your Titles: Luck of the draw? Most of my titles come from song lyrics that inspired the story in the first place. Sometimes they're spot on descriptors of what's in the story, but it's normally song lyrics because I'm not terribly creative. By the time I get to the title, i've used up all my creative prowess elsewhere.

10. Complete Works: Are you serious right now? There are so many if we count one shots. I started doing them all, then got bored about one page in and decided to hit the highlights after a point. These are the most recent one shots or notable ones.

- Collateral Damage (Overwatch, In which Ana has has had too many friendly fire incidents)

- Silent Pleasures (Naruto, Kakashi/Iruka have some not safe for work fun at work)

- Forever and Always (Naruto, Kakasaku one shot where he's badly injured on a mission)

- Aftermath (Overwatch, Jack has some regrets about how he left things with Gabe)

- Imposter (Naruto, Kakashi/Tenzo in which Kakashi is jealous of Tenzo's stuffie that looks like him)

- Relapse (Naruto, Kakashi/Sakura in which she slept with Sasuke while she and Kakashi might have had something between them)

- Worlds Collide (Naruto, Kakayama in which Tenzo is captured by Obito and turned against Konoha and Kakashi. Kakashi will save him no mater the price)

-I'll be the Moon (Naruto, Kakashi/Sakura in which she's married to Sasuke but it having an affair with Kakashi. It's a complex look at love, life, and relationships)

- Find Me in the Dark (Naruto, Kakashi/Tenzo in which Tenzo gets captured and tortured by Orochimaru)

- Lightning and Starlight (Naruto, in which Kakashi wasn't fast enough to stop Sakura from putting a chidori through Sakura's chest)

- Surprised Disguise (Naruto, Kakashi/Tenzo, in which flirting as Sukea has unexpected results)

- Flood (Naruto, in which Kakashi pulls a prank on Genma by telling him that Sakura is pregnant)

- Falling Cherry Blossoms (Naruto, Kakashi centric, where he loses nearly everyone and falls apart)

- Muddy Water (Naruto, Genma/Sakura, the crack fic that built a ship? When I wrote thie, there were almost no other stories with this pairing. Sakura takes a mission she's not prepared for and Genma saves her in more ways than one

11. Incomplete Works:

- Drabbles, Requests, and Things I Should Have Left Alone (this is my catch all file for all the random things, multiple fandom)

-Heart in a Silver Cage (Naruto, Genma/OC, enemies to lovers slow burn mission fic)

- Healing Hands (Naruto, Tenzo/Sakura glacial burn that deals with ptsd and mental health)

- Losing Control (Naruto, Genma/Sakura or maybe Kakashi/Sakura, in which Sakura is pregnant with Genma's child)

- Tongue in Cheek (Naruto/SWtoR crossover in which Genma and @cinlat s OC Fynta get into all kinds of trouble, probably in both worlds)

- Altered Reality (Naruto, Kakashi/Rin fix it fic in which she lived, they got married, and she's pregnant with their child but she can't remember it)

- Run to You (Naruto, Tsunade/Jiraiya falling in love, falling apart, and trying to reconcile together, spanning their whole relationship with vignettes)

- Save Yourself: Shadows and Regrets (Naruto, Kakashi/Tenzo falling in love in Anbu with a healthy dose of Genma humor thrown in)

12. Do you outline: Rarely, we die like men here. Honestly, once I outline it all, I lose interest. That said, both AR (Altered Reality) and Caged (Heart in a Silver Cage) have outlines. HH (Healing Hands) is roughly written and needs all the editing and shaping.

13. Coming Soon: Heaing Hands is the big coming soon because it's written, but I'm working on several Overwatch fics. My favorite is (You Held the Gun that) Fired First which is a massive reaper76 that includes Vincent, falling in love, falling into bed, and falling apart.

14. Best writing trait: Personally, I think I write emotions well. Angst is my favorite tbh @birkastan2018 once called me their angst dealer and it literally made my year lol

15. Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write: Gabriel's background story in Overwatch. I have all the ideas and none of the writing lol

16. Spicy Tangential Opinion: Honestly, I don't get triggered by too much either way. To each their own and if I dont' agree I can move on without blasting someone over something.

#Dimi Answers #Author Questions #Feel free to ask anything #I'm an open book #I write too much #there's so much more under the cut

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pink-imagines · 4 years

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a matter of strength

request: So I wanted a really self-indulgent fic with me and Todoroki. My friend started shipping us and now I can't stop thinking about it. Friend even got me to do some kabedon art and I don't remember what led to the discussion of kabedon but then I was like "Well I guess I'm drawing Todoroki trapping me against a wall." So I want a fic of my self-insert OC meeting Todoroki and whatever the hell leads up to him doing a kabedon. It's certainly preferable for him to like me back, but more than anything I want him to be in character. So if the kabedon is because he's fed up with me flirting or something, then so be it. (requested by @kawayuni)

a/n: i hope i wrote your quirk in the right way!!

warnings: self doubt, a fight scene but nothing too gory

masterlist

requesting rules

If it wasn’t for the the fact that Todoroki was with you, you would’ve probably been dead.

You really didn’t know what happened, you just froze. To think that today would finally lead up to this moment.

You woke up that morning feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day! Sure, maybe it was a bit hard to get out of bed but you did it eventually! Which is really all that counts. Around 7 am you were almost out the door to get to work and you were at the train station at 7:30. The station was crowded but you did your best to slink through to get to where you needed to be.

Once you got to work you immediately went into the office to see if you had any paperwork you had to get done. “Good morning, Y/L/N.”, a familiar voice said from behind you. “It’s indeed a good morning, especially now that I got to see you!”, you jokingly said and smiled at the receptionist who walked past. “You’re too sweet, Y/N.”, she laughed and walked over to the break room. Without hesitation you got to work and finished what needed to be done, you really just wanted to get out to the action. You weren’t always needed out, since you were a rescue worker but sometimes you got to go out on patrol. Today was that kind of day! You were actually patrolling with Todoroki, which you were very excited about. You had first met him at UA during the sports festival, and since then you had developed a little crush on him. Who wouldn’t, really, tough?

“Ready to go, Y/H/N?”, Todoroki asked as you got out of the changing room. “Ready as I’ll ever be, handsome!”, you grinned at the way his face got slightly more red. You were what people would call a flirt. Really you just tried to compliment people in that way, and most people were fine with it. Todoroki was one of those people and you had a fun time teasing him about the fact that he would easily blush. Sometimes you’d get a smile or even a chuckle out of him, which is why you usually saved your best one-liners for him personally.

During your patrol you kept it flirty and lighthearted, calling him by nicknames and telling silly pick-up lines. Todoroki didn’t complain, and simply went along with it, sometimes he’d roll his eyes but he’d always have a smile on his lips while doing so. “I appreciate you serving looks, but I’d also like to be served some food.”, you joked, “Wanna go out for lunch after patrol?” Usually you’d go out for lunch with the person you were patrolling with after doing your job, which is why you loved patrolling with Todoroki. “Yeah, as long as we get back in time. I have some paper work to do.”, he nodded, ignoring the flirty remark you made even though his ears were turning slightly red as well as his cheeks. “Great what do you want to-”, you didn’t look at where you were going and bumped into someone, “Oh, I’m so sorry!” “Watch where you’re going.”, the man growled at you. “Sir, it was just a mistake. They apologiesed.”, Todoroki said in your defense. “Heroes these days... they’re so incapable...”, the man kept walking in the opposite direction of where you were going. You looked back at him for a while, there was just something that rubbed you the wrong way about him and you couldn’t get it out of your mind. “Are you okay? You know you shouldn’t take what he said to heart, right?”, Todoroki brought you out of your own head. “Yeah, yeah! I’m fine.”, you shrugged it off and decided to not focus your energy on a grumpy man.

Once your shift was over the two of you went out to get soba, still in your hero costumes mostly because you were to lazy to take it off but also in case of an emergency call. You could never be too careful, the only downside was people staring at you and the commotion around it. “We always end up eating soba when we’re going patrolling together.”, you commented at random, after there had been a long pause of silence where you had just been eating. “It’s my favorite...”, he shrugged and looked up at you, “... I like eating it with you.” Todoroki wasn’t much of a talker, he wasn’t a flirter either, but in some sort of way, in certain moments, his words would make your heart skip a beat. Maybe it was the fact that he usually didn’t talk much and that when he did it left a much bigger impact. Or it was the fact that he chose his words so carefully that each of them really meant something. Before you could respond to this with another one of your flirty remarks both of you got a stress call. It was an area near you, which is probably why you got it in the first place. “Let’s go.”, Todoroki said, got up and threw some money on the table to pay for your food.

When you reached the scene it was a building on fire. You approached one of the medics helping out at the scene. “What’s going on here? What can we do?”, you asked. “There are already heroes inside, but there are still hostages being held.”, the nurse said stressfully, “Just try to get them out safely. There’s a villain in there- I don’t know what he wants-” “Alright, thank you!”, you said as the nurse ran off to help some other victims, “Let’s go!”

While Todoroki helped out in trying to put the fire out, you were helping people out of the building. “Not too many people at once!”, you told them, “Five is just enough! Don’t worry, I’ll get all of you down.” You got them down by lifting and sinking rocks, almost like an elevator, which is why they couldn’t all get down at once. With the best of your abilities you tried to focus on helping them, but you could also feel the steps of someone approaching quickly through the vibration in the ground. The only thing you could do was to hope that it was just another hero, or a hostage further in the building that had managed to escape on their own. “Y/H/N, the villain is approaching your area!”, you heard through your earpiece. “Got it!”, you answered. Shit... As you helped the next five people on the hovering rock you put up a stone wall against the door. “The door is barricaded, but I’ll need back-up. I won’t be able to hold it that long.”, you said to your mic. With one hand holding up your barrier and the other one slowly sinking down the five people, your energy was about to reduce faster than normal. Still, there were only three people left after this one so you told yourself to suck it up and finish the job. “Back up is on the way, but please keep the door barricaded!”, the sound from the earpiece startled you a bit, but you kept your balance. “Thank you.”, you answered shortly to keep as much energy as possible. You heard the door open and a familiar man’s voice groan, probably a reaction to your barrier. With a sigh you told everyone to keep quiet, hoping you wouldn’t get caught or that he wouldn’t bother. “Heroes these days... they’re so incapable.”, when you heard the voice say that your entire body froze. It was the man from before. You looked down the building to see that the people down there had gotten off. With as much power you could muster you brought the rock back up. When you turned to tell everyone to get on you were met with the villain smashing through your barrier. You dropped the rock to the ground and hurried to the three people left, creating a new wall around them. It was a wall that you didn’t have to hold up yourself, though you knew it would soon turn into gravel so you had to work quickly. You tried capturing the villains legs by incasing them with stone, but he just broke himself free. Every single attack you tried to stop him with failed, and you were slowly getting more and more tired. All the while you were trying to protect the innocent citizen from this delusional man he was mocking you. “What kind of training are they even putting you through nowadays? It doesn’t seem like it’s working.”, he laughed. You heard the agonizing sound of the wall around the people you were trying to protect crumble to the ground. You fell to your knees out of exhaustion and pure disappointment over the fact that you were uncapable of doing this by yourself, even if you were a rescue worker and not a hero. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a tiny figure. Your head snapped over there, only to see a child who had been in hiding until now. You hadn’t even noticed the fact that there weren’t only three people left. Because of the movement of your head, the villain followed your eyes. In a moment of pure panic you did the only thing you could think of; use the last of your energy to build two stone barriers, one around the child and the other around the other three people. “You’re just gonna leave yourself open for me like this? You do realize that I’ll just kill them after I take you out, right?”, the villain laughed, “You really are useless, aren’t you?” He raised his hand towards you, and as you were expecting the blow something cold appeared right in front of your face. A wall of ice had stopped the villain from giving you one last blow. “You’re alright, Y/N...”, you heard Todoroki whisper, “... come with me, the civillians are gonna be okay. We brought back up, it’s just a matter of time-” You blacked out.

When your eyes fluttered open again you were met with a bright light. It smelled like carbolic acid and a distracting hint of flowers. A slight beeping was heard every second or so. Once you got your vision back and looked around the room you understood that you were in a hospital. The slight smell of flowers came from the boquet on the nightstand next to you, and of course the beeping was from a heart monitor. A nurse came into the room with a relieved look on her face. “Oh, you’re awake!”, she smiled kindly. “Where am I?”, you muttered out. As you tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes you realized you were hooked up to a drip. “You used too much energy and blacked out. Don’t worry, it’s only been a few hours... and you should be ready to head out if you just rest for a bit longer.”, the nurse explained, “You’re recovering quickly, but I recommend you take a few days off work.” As the nurse left the room you thought about what had happened. You weren’t strong enough to take down the villain, and in return those innocent people probably got traumatized. With a deep sigh you put your head in your hands. If it wasn’t for the the fact that Todoroki was with you, you would’ve probably been dead.

When you got back from the hospital you didn’t take those days off that the nurse recommended. Instead you went to work and did paper work. You would’ve gone out on patrol but that was too far according to the agency. On top of that, you had been avoiding Todoroki like the plague. Whenever you looked at him you just felt helpless, and you didn’t want to show your face to him after what had happened. You didn’t want to face him because you thought you were too weak for him.

Sometimes, even though you weren’t allowed to patrol, you’d just take a look at your hero costume. You missed getting to go out, but you had to fully get better before you got to do so. One time when you were in the changing room for your break, looking at your hero costume, someone opened and closed the door quickly behind them. “You’re back?”, a familiar voice asked. When you looked back to the voice’s owner your face blossomed with different colors of red. Todoroki walked closer to you. “I got back four days ago.”, you muttered out and closed the locker door, ready to walk out of there. “You didn’t think of stopping by my desk? Maybe say ‘hi’?”, Todoroki wasn’t usually this forward, “I was worried about you, you know.” “You shouldn’t have been.”, you sighed, “It’s not like I’m that important to the agency.” When he tried to take a few steps closer you backed up, but was met with the cold material of your locker behind you. “Y/N, what are you talking about?”, the way he said your name so softly made your heart flutter, but you couldn’t give in. “I’m just saying that I’m not as powerful as the rest of you, so I’m not important to-” Todoroki’s hands slammed down on the locker behind you, his hands were right by your head. “Did you ever think that I’d be worried about you for selfish reasons? Or do you think I’m some sort of machine?”, he walked just a bit closer to you and let his forearms lean against the metal behind you, “You don’t think I take what you say to me to heart?” You had never been this close to him before, he could probably hear your heart beating out of your chest. You really didn’t know what happened, you just froze. To think that today would finally lead up to this moment, a day that seemed so normal as if it was any other day. “I talk like that to everybody, Todoroki, I-” “Look me in the eye and tell me it’s the same.”, he said with a low tone. You finally met his gaze, his piercing eyes were almost unbearable but you kept yourself steady. “I can’t...”, you admitted. “So why can’t you believe me when I say that I was worried? I don’t care if you don’t think you’re strong enough to matter. To me you matter, and what you did during that mission was nothing but strong.”, he had calmed down a bit and now talked in a softer voice, “I’d really like for you to see that too.” “Todoroki...” “Please call me Shoto.”, he said. “Shoto...”, you tried the name out, “... Shoto, you matter to me too and hearing that from you means a lot... but could you maybe back up a bit?” At this point you could feel Shoto’s breath against your lips and your face had become increasingly more hot every second. “Right! Sorry...”, Shoto backed away from you, and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t miss his warmth. “... so you’re saying you... knew that I like you?”, you muttered and he nodded, “And you like me back?” Shoto nodded again, and that tiny motion made your heart burst with fireworks and butterflies and your head was buzzing as if you had just gotten drunk for the first time. “No more mindless flirting?”, he held out his hand to you. “No more mindless flirting.”, you took his hand gently. As soon as you did so he started walking out the door, dragging you with him. “Wait, where are we going?”, you blurted out. “I’m taking you out for a coffee, so that we can finally have a date.” “You don’t think that could wait?” “No.”

extra:

“How did you find out that I like you? I mean I act like that around everyone.”, you asked and took another sip from your cup of coffee. “I didn’t know...”, he admitted, “I was talking to the receptionist and she kinda let it slip, actually.” “Are you serious!?”

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franeridart · 4 years

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Anon said: How are those doodles?? Your "doodles" are a million times better than any of my finished drawings (i love them btw they are so f*cking cute!!!!)

AHHHH THANK YOU!!!! They really are doodles though haha

Anon said: What are your OCs' names?? They are so cool I'm in love with them ♡♡

If you’re talking about the four in the latest original art post I made, then they’re Chris (with the undercut), Josh (with the long hair), Max (with the scarf) and Leo (with the eyepatch)!! I’m so so happy you like them, they’re old enough to be part of me by now so seeing them liked is always such a warm feeling!!

Anon said: Do you take prompts/suggestions? Sorry I don’t know your policy but would you consider drawing Bokuro ft jealous!Bo? I’ve always headcanoned that Kuroo is really popular with both boys and girls because of his confidence and effortless charm; whether he’s oblivious to this attention despite his intelligence or aware of it yet ignoring it is anyone’s guess~ I always look forward to your art and recently got into Haikyuu!! And damn, I do ship Kuroken too but you have me addicted to Bokuro now *_* || Aah finally got the FAQ open (blame mobile tumblr for being a bitch), and yup my last ask is def a suggestion and I hope you’ll consider using it~ Somewhat unrelated, do you regularly add stuff to your red bubble? I love your Kiribaku art but I’m a huge fan of Momo (&Todomomo) and Kuroo (&Bokuro), is there any chance you have something in the works with them up for sale soon? Thanks

GOSH thank you so much for liking my old hq stuff enough to ask for more!! I’m not sure if I’ll get back to drawing bokuro soon, honestly? So I can’t promise that if I’ll go through with the suggestion it’ll be soon, but I’ll definitely keep it in mind for when the mood strikes!! And about the shop, I add to it whenever I feel there’s enough stuff piled up to? Though I plan to start adding more often than that from now on - I don’t really have anything for momo and kuroo to add on rb that isn’t already there, but as soon as I’ll have more of either of them I’ll remember to put them up! Thank you so so much for the interest in buying from me!!

Anon said: Ok but that Kirishima art was absolutely amazing

THANK YOU!!!!!

Anon said: Hi! First I really really love your art and I make this little muffed scream every time I see your stuff pop up on me feed. You’re amazing!! Second, can I ask how you do shadows? I can never make them look right or lay across my character correctly. Yours always look so amazing

Thank you!!!!!! I actually used to have that same problem with shadows? However much I kept track of where the lightsource was and the shapes I was working with it always looked wrong, somehow - the way I fixed it was by adding more shadows, actually. If you’ll pick any of my colored pieces you’ll see I don’t really put down lights all that often, which means the base color ends up being my light color too, and everything else is just shadows getting darker the further I go from where the light hits the object I’m shading - generally, I use a soft tool like a brush or a marker to very roughly put down where I want the shadows to go, and then using the same tool I smudge and darken it till it looks right to me. I can’t really explain it any better than this? But I have a small tutorial for how I do this in my art tips tag, if you wanna give it a look!

Anon said: I come back to look at your art almost every day, especially when I’m feeling down; so I’d just like to thank you for posting your beautiful art for all of us to experience. On behalf of all of your followers, Thank you! :,)))

Anon you’re gonna make me cryyyyy!!!!!! ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; thank you so so much, both for this ask and for liking my stuff to begin with! <3

Anon said: Your anatomy is so so so so good! And don’t even get me started on your colours! Perfection

GOSH I still have a long long way to go, but thank you so much for thinking so!!! It makes all the effort feel worth it! ( TT^TT)<3

Anon said: I love everything about ur art! from the sketches to the full colored pieces, it's the highlight of my week whenever you post! I was actually wondering where you get the ideas for clothes! I always see the variety and was wondering if you came up with them or are they from somewhere ^v^ keep up the amazing work!!

It’s a mixture of both, actually! I like to look at clothing, both irl (on people I see, or stuff in the shops I visit, or even pics and movies and tv shows!) and drawn too - in anime and illustrations and manga and cartoons! I look at them and try to remember how they’re made, and then when I draw I think about it all and come up with my own by mixing stuff I liked from all those things - unless I see a piece of clothing that’d work just right as it is on a character, in which case I just draw it either as best as I can from memory or, if I have it, using a ref! It’s one of the things I find the most fun when drawing, I’m glad to hear you like what I come up with!! Thank you so much!!!

Anon said: Thoughts on KiriTodo? Because I. Am. Hooked.

I like it!! I don’t actively ship it, since my only actual ship for Kirishima is kiribaku, but I like the look of him with todo, aesthetically, and their friendship is highly entertaining to me, which means their potential relationship in a romantic setting is too - and, as we’ve seen with my very random dip into the non-existent kirijiro fandom, that’s more than enough for me to decide maybe I’ll wanna go and draw for them, one of these days haha

Anon said: Haven't seen KiriSero or KamiSero Fusions yet! Got some ideas for those? (Filling out the Bakusquad pentagon XD)

I really never got around to drawing those, did I! That’s actually surprising, hadn’t you pointed that out I’d have never realized - I’m not doing fusions anymore right now, but maybe I could make an exception for these two............ if the inspiration strikes, why not!

Anon said: Did you see the newer bnha episodes?! Miritama made it feel like a shoujo... (In a good way)

THIS IS SO OLD OH GOD sorry I didn’t get around to answering this sooner!!! The miritama relationship is really wonderful, isn’t it? They make me cry so much, soft warm boys, so in love............. TT’’’TT <3<3<3

Anon said: This whole year has been a trainwreck for me and your blog was one of the few things that stayed constant, so thank you for being my favorite spot on the internet. Hope you keep drawing and I love your art so much!

AH, THANK YOU! I really really hope I’ll keep on drawing too!!! I’ll do my best 💪💪

Anon said: Some days I’ll just sit in bed at 2 am and be like “I need a hug” and then I read ur blog and it’s like a safe mental hug. So thanks for that.

That’s!!!!!!!!!! so sweet oh my god!!!!!!!!! ;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;; I’m so glad my stuff can make you feel warm like that, anon!! <3<3

Anon said: So it says you don't do requests in your faq does that include commissions as well

Not right now!! Maybe sometime at the beginning of next month, ✨Stay Tuned✨

Anon said: Hellooo hope you are having a good day. It's always so fun to scroll through your blogs and enjoy your art 💕💕 Idk if it's a little weird to ask but I also love your old aokaga art and I was wondering if you had any interest left in that fandom or would ever consider drawing for it again? xx

Gods, I really don’t know? It’s been so long since I’ve last engaged with anything related to knb........ I still do love the ship though, so, maybe? I really have no clue, I might though!! Thank you so much for liking even such old things from me!!!!

#fran answers #................i'm deeply ashamed of how long it took me to answer some of these #in my defense i was taking an unplanned break #but also it shouldn't have been unplanned so #i'm very sorry about leaving you all hanging so long orz #let's try to not have that happen again any time soon

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crownandwriter · 3 years

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Hii again!!! I don't even know where to start. Ok, so first things first, I'm infp, I love daydreaming about impossible relationships and making stories in my head before falling asleep ( I do this since I was 10 I think). I'm a very creative person and I like to imagine all kinds of monsters lurking into the waters or forests or even flying above the clouds. I love animals (nature in general, really) soo much, I always begin to tear up before thinking about nature. And the animals seem to understand me, I really love interacting with dogs (I kind of learned their body language on my own, through observation). I'm a very loyal person, but if someone doesn't want to talk to me anymore, I don't hold any grudges. I'm such a romantic person, even though I've never been in a relationship (and I'm almost 21... sorry mom), but I love the idea of being in love. I get flustered kinda easy thinking about my crushes (mostly fictional, but shhh). I'm also very intuitive and empathetic, I love giving, it makes me super happy. I try to be a better human everyday and I love helping the people in need.

I love drawing, writing and listening to music, I can't live without music. I love taking pictures of the nature. I have a huuuge respect for both life and death, but I also like to believe in fairies, elfs, different spirits of nature.

I have green eyes and love to dye my hair pink.

Aaanndd that's all, I think. Thank you for taking my request 🤗💜💜🤗🤗💜🤗💜 -🐰 anon

P.S. I hope I will see your drawings sometime 😊

Hopefully soon! My art instagram is linked at the top of my account, but otherwise I’ll be making actual posts for genshin fanart I make. And maybe also for my oc but im unsure on that one

I ship you with Bennett!

(I couldn’t find a canon art header for him forgive me--I’ll be sure he’s one of the first ones I make)

-This relationship would be a very fun, fantastical one! Bennett is, preciously so, very gullible and would not only become very absorbed in the ideas and stories you craft, but believe in many of them wholeheartedly! I think it’d be adorable if you two met because he overheard you talking to a friend about your daydreams, or doodling them whilst out in public, and he approached you to ask why you’d never placed a commission at the guild about these creatures/monsters because they sound very dangerous!!

-He’d drag you out on “adventures” wherein you hunt for proof and sightings of the creatures and monsters you like to dream up. Occasionally, if it’s said (by you) to be particularly dangerous, and Benny is of the mind, he may make it into and official “hunt.” Of course, whether or not you reveal to him that everything is just from your internal fantasies determines whether or not Benny does this all in earnest or as a game, but he’d still do these either way.

-Of course, you never really find anything except some hilichurls (not to worry, he’ll protect you) but it’s fun all the same. During your down periods, Benny loves to hear more of your stories and designs! Huddled around a campfire, with his belly full of non-poisoned food, and listening to your pretty voice tell him about all sorts of fantastical creatures and adventures--that’s the life.

-Benny also loves animals but, probably due to his bad luck, they don’t usually seem to like him. That doesn’t deter him, though! YOU CAN BET HE’S GONNA CATCH THAT SQUIRREL YOU WANTED TO PET. Or at least one of Timmy’s pigeons. If you ever tear up in awe and excitement around him, he’ll automatically think the worst. Once you explained, though, you can expect Benny to catch your passion like a virus and start crying with you.

-You can’t fathom how much your loyalty and forgiveness means to him. Many a companion has turned their back on Bennett for things he really can’t help, but as long as you’re with him it’s hard to feel too down about it. Neither of you are the types to hold grudges too, and that makes for a particularly sweet shared affinity. Arguments and disagreements are easy hurdles to mount when you’re both so willing for forgive, and your shared empathy and couple-teamwork will topple all other challenges. <3

-Benny tries his very best to be romantic, too! He reads books often and asks for advice from the adults in his life--with mixed results. Lisa’s advice is usually the most solid, and luckily he figures that out pretty quickly. For example, he’s going to bring you flowers often! ...but the quality of said flowers is usually not great. How was he supposed to know there’d be a freak windstorm on the way back from Windrise? The windwheel asters are missing some petals...but they’re still pretty.

Runner Up: Chongyun

#matchup #genshin matchup

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midnight-circus · 3 years

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sometimes you just gotta meme for the new guy.

this is two memes combined so sorry if theres similar questions i couldnt be bothered to post them separately lmao

it’s fuckin huge My Bad

Names? If you were to choose another name for your oc, what do you think it would be? Did you choose their name for how it sounds or for its meaning?

Tbh it was a toss-up for a long time between Mallory, Felix and Everaud, and eventually the first two won. I chose it for how it sounded, but as it turned out the meanings of his first two names juxtapose pretty well together (first name Mallory - ‘unlucky’, second name Felix - ‘lucky’). His surname, Valkner, I also picked for the sound - the meaning of ‘warrior’ doesn’t really pertain to him lmao

He hasn’t gone by his legit first name of Mallory since he was about 12, and has used Felix almost exclusively since then. he fuckin hates it. most of the time.

Can your oc play any instruments? Have they ever wanted to learn how to play any? Why?

No, he grew up without much money and instruments would have been a luxury. He’s vaguely considered it as an adult, but is pretty certain he’d be useless so hasn’t bothered trying.

How does your oc fare in the dark? Are they scared? Do they trip over things really easily or navigate like they have night vision? (Or do they have night vision?)

He doesn’t like the dark much, but he’s not scared. He’s just got bad eyesight.

How well would your oc fare as a teacher? What subject would they be best at teaching? What about the worst?

tbh he’d probably be pretty good as a teacher to a group of like...primary school kids, maybe from 5-11 in age. He’s quiet-voiced, fairly mild-mannered, and has a strong sense of fairness and justice - the problem would arise when it came to older pupils, teens and up, trying to get the upperhand, bc he’s not authoritative in the slightest and would probably cave. Give him a room of toddlers tho that he’s only responsible for in short bursts and he’d cope pretty well. Either history or english lit would be his forte; sports would be worst. the boy can’t run.

What was your oc’s relationship with their parents like? If they didn’t have any parents/didn’t know them, who in their life was the closest to a parent to them?

It’s...good? I guess?? It’s complicated. his parents love their kids dearly and Felix didn’t go wanting for affection, but if anything it went too far the other way. He was absolutely smothered as a kid - after several near-death experiences with childhood illnesses (bacterial meningitis, which developed into encephalitis, then sepsis in his leg), his mother wrapped him up in cotton wool and never really let go. He couldn’t leave the house alone, he couldn’t go outside on cold days, he couldn’t move at anything faster than a walk - after being in and out of hospitals from 5-years-old to 8, and then being kept on a shelf from then, it really had an impact on how he learnt to interact with other kids his age. It’s also given him an unstable footing in life itself - he’s never quite certain if he’s going to lose everything at the drop of a hat, because that’s how they used to act around him. Now, with the distance of adulthood, he loves them and appreciates that they were trying their best, but he can’t help but resent them a little if he really thinks about it. He gets around this by not thinking about it.

Does your oc have any allergies, intolerances, or other sensitivities? How dangerous is it? Does this affect their daily life in any way?

he’s got an allergy to letting himself be happy it’s very serious

Does your oc prefer being in a crowd or being completely alone? How many people can be around them before they get uncomfortable?

Generally he’s more content alone - conversation doesn’t come naturally to him, particularly if it’s a crowd of strangers, and he’s more content in his own company. If he does find himself in a crowd, he will take himself to the edge of the room and people-watch rather than mingle.

How open is your oc to trying new things? Are they the adventurous sort, or would they rather stay in their comfort zone? Why?

He needs to be talked into things, otherwise he’d never try anything - he knows his comfort zones and he’s very comfortable in them, and is not inclined to venture outside. If he’s nudged into doing something, he may end up finding that he enjoys it - doesn’t necessarily mean he’d do it again under his own steam, but he doesn’t always regret the experience.

Does your oc have any best friends? Who was/is their closest friend? What about their worst enemy?

Pathetically enough, he doesn’t, really. Sylvia was his best, and to be honest his only friend, and when she left his social life left with her. He loves her still, but he loves her platonically (even if he hasn’t realised that yet) and that wasn’t enough for her, understandably. Outside of her, there’s not really anyone else.

No enemies. He’s not important enough to have enemies.

How dangerous is your oc? Are they completely innocent, or someone to be feared? Do others know?

tbh Felix’s level of danger is about the same as a puppy with a knife in its mouth. like yeah it might get you by accident but its way more likely to hurt itself and its not really done anything to deserve that so really its more important to get the knife away from it for its own benefit than yours

What is your oc’s vision like? Do they require glasses, are they completely blind, or do they have 20/20 vision? Does this have an effect on their life?

He wears glasses for pretty much everything - he’s not blind without them, but his vision’s bad enough that he wouldn’t be able to cope for the whole day if he left them at home.

If your oc were to be arrested for something, what would it be for? For being too kind, for a legitimate crime?

Probably for getting mixed up in something he didn’t mean to get involved in - Felix is the sort of person to say ‘yes’ to one request because he felt pressured and then find himself 20 ‘yes’s down the line embezzling money from the government for the Serbian mafia with no idea how he got there. He’s quite easy to manipulate - a person who knows how to press his buttons can generally work the answer they want out of him.

How quiet or loud is your oc? Are they easily capable of sneaking around without being heard, or do they feel it’s impossible to stop talking?

He’s pretty quiet - tries not to draw attention to himself if he can avoid it, and he doesn’t really speak unless he’s spoken to.

How stylistically fancy is your oc? Or would they rather go for comfort and plainness instead?

His primary concern is durability and price - he needs something that will either last for as long as possible so he doesn’t have to replace it any time soon, or something that is cheap enough that it doesn’t matter if it wears out, and ergo, Primark. He oftens window-shops for nice-fitting, fancy clothing in the London boutiques he passes on the way to work, but has never bought anything like that in his life and can’t bring himself to even consider it.

What’s your oc’s preferred mode of transportation? Walking, vehicle, (or in a sci-fi/magic setting) teleportation?

His preferred mode of transport is a car, but his isn’t always working properly so when he has to, he takes a bus - he doesn’t like walking if he can avoid it, partially because it wears him out and partially because he’s kind of physically lazy.

Is your oc always late, always early, or always right on time? Is there any reason for this?

He’s always early, because he leaves early, because he’s already envisioned about 20 different disasters that could make him late on the way and he’s trying to circumvent all of them.

How empathetic is your oc? Or are they closer to being a sociopath? Any reason why?

Felix doesn’t really realise that he’s empathetic - he thinks he’s just doing what everyone does, but in fact he will go out of his way to improve a situation for someone if he thinks they’re being hard-done-by for no benefit to himself, even to the extent of bending or breaking rules. It’s partially why he got into the law-scene - he wants to see things bettered for people who need it.

How much does your oc swear? Or do they keep completely clean? Why is this? Is there any situation where they would be the opposite?

Swearing doesn’t come naturally to him - he’s one of those people who will swear only under their breath and still manage to feel guilty about doing it. If he is going to swear out loud, he does it in German and it always comes out clumsily.

How does your oc’s own perception of themselves compare to how other people see them? Is your oc aware that other people see them differently (if it’s different)?

It’s pretty different. In his mind, he’s pretty useless - a bit of a waste-of-space who has coasted through life by pretending to be better than he is, kind of dull, kind of boring, kind of unattractive, altogether too much of Nothing Special for anyone to really be bothered with. Realistically, he comes across as responsible and competent at his job, perhaps a little highly-strung and nervy but nevertheless perfectly capable of managing the responsibilities he has. It’s his own self-doubt that cripples him, for the most part - people see it in him, and perhaps it makes them wonder if there’s a reason for it.

Is your oc a workaholic, or do they find it hard to be busy at all? Do they find it easy to relax, or must they have something to do at all times? Why?

if he’s not working, he’s thinking, and that simply won’t do. Felix’s whole life is work, for the most part - he throws his all into it, and isn’t sure what to do with himself when he’s sitting at home alone in a dead-quiet flat.

How energetic is your oc? Do they have trouble sitting still or do they feel low on juice all the time? Any reason why?

He’s constantly exhausted. It’s because he’s depressed. He hasn’t figured that out yet.

How does your character sleep? Peacefully, fitfully? What position do they sleep in? What is their typical bedding like?

Not very peacefully - Felix is a light sleeper, so although capable of getting to sleep relatively quickly he wakes up in fits and starts throughout the night. He tends to sleep curled on his left side, on bedding that is cheap, serviceable and durable. He can’t afford to buy anything decent. He finds it easier to stay asleep if there’s ambient noise in the room - white noise, the TV, whatever.

Does your oc have dreams or nightmares? What are they like? Is there a recurring one?

He’ll suffer a pretty bad nightmare here and there, generally to do with hospitals or medical procedures, but they aren’t chronic.

How easy to annoy is your oc? Do they have common pet-peeves or are they stoic in response to everything? What is their reaction if the source doesn’t stop?

he’s real easy to annoy lmao. He’s got a list of pet peeves a mile long and he’s very easy to get a rise out of, so people who enjoy getting a reaction (Lyon) find him very entertaining pickings. He keeps telling himself not to get so worked up because it only encourages things, but he can’t help it.

How does your oc view housework? Do they absolutely hate it? Do they enjoy having their surroundings neat and tidy or do they not notice?

He hates doing it, but he really enjoys a clean space afterwards and goes a long way to keep things organised. Disorder stresses him out - he particularly can’t bear people coming into his space and messing it up.

Your oc has to make something for an art exhibition. What would they make? How terrible is it? Would they enjoy making it?

oh christ. the thing is, he’s actually not that bad at art - he’s got a good handle on anatomy and perspective and can reproduce images or photpgraphs fairly well - but he thinks he’s useless and has never shown anyone anything. he’d produce a pretty solid sketch of like a coffee shop at 5pm or something dull like that, apologise profusely for the result, and hate every second of it.

What is your oc’s vocabulary like? Does it match the way they talk? How would you describe their speech?

He speaks pretty well - he’s precise with his words and keeps a quiet, even tone, and his vocab is fairly developed. If there’s a flaw with his speech, it’s that he speaks rather too quickly, because he’s used to being constantly interrupted - it becomes a race to get the sentence finished and his point across, before someone can cut him off.

He has a south German accent, but it’s a little softer for years of living in England - it gets stronger when he goes back home to Munich.

Is your oc more likely to follow instructions exactly, throw them out and figure it out on their own, or make it all up? What are the results like?

He follows instructions to the T, and doesn’t have the impulse to experiment and mess around with them for fear of making a mistake that he’d then have to clean up; that being said, if it becomes a matter of fair treatment, he may be inclined to bend the rules here and there.

Is your oc afraid of touch or do they actively seek it out? Is there a reason for this? What are the exceptions?

lmaoooOOOOO he’s petrified, whilst at the same time desperately craving it. He’s horrendously touch-starved, but his childhood lizard-brain learnt to associate touch with painful medical procedures, so he shies from it by nature.

How is your oc about medical care? Do they avoid any form of healthcare that they can, do they seek it out over every little scrape? Do they treat their injuries/illness all by themselves?

Felix carries an awful lot of medical trauma with him; he’s terrified of medical care, whilst simultaneously being something of a hypochondriac convinced he’s got some sort of Terrible Disease at all times. to be fair, this is because he once had a Terrible Disease, which then led to a second and then a third Terrible Disease before the first could even be treated, so he does have form for it. He also can’t handle blood and has been known to pass out at the sight of it, but would rather do that and recover on the floor than go to hospital.

He will avoid hospitals At All Costs.

How competitive is your oc? Is every little task something that they can win, or are they just in competitions for the fun of it? Is there anyone they’re most competitive with?

He’s sort of competitive accidentally - he doesn’t want to be, but he feels like he needs to be in order to succeed. He is desperate to prove himself, desperate to show his mother than he is more than capable of managing his own life, but he will run himself to exhaustion trying to get there. He’s happiest when he’s left to do his own thing without feeling like he’s competing against others, when he’s content that he’s appreciated by the people around him and is able to take that appreciation at face value, but he hasn’t come to that realisation in himself yet - he just thinks he’s doing it wrong.

How skilled at lying is your oc? How frequently do they lie? For what reason? What situations would be the exception?

lmao he can’t lie to save his life it’s actually kind of sad to watch. he’s a Blusher, for one, so he’s already tripped coming out of the gate, and then he starts falling over his own tongue the second he’s asked a question he can’t give a truthful answer to until it’s painfully obvious to everyone. it’s just sad.

What is your oc’s immune system like? Are they invincible to illness, or are they compromised completely from the slightest of dirt?

His immune system is terrible - a side-effect of his childhood. If there’s an illness going around, he will catch it.

Does your oc do anything “just for the aesthetic”? Or are they completely practical in everything?

Totally practical by habit, but perhaps he’d be happier if he wasn’t. He’s not used to doing things just because he wants to, because he’d enjoy the experience - there has to be a reason for it, else he’s not justified in doing it. Same goes for purchasing things that he wants - if he can’t come up with a good, solid, practical reason to buy himself something, he won’t buy it. ‘Because you want to’ is not reason enough.

If you had to choose a single object to act as a symbol for your oc, what would it be?

One of those candles that re-ignites itself when you blow it out.

If your oc could only eat one thing for the rest of their life (while miraculously not suffering from malnutrition), what would it be?

He’s got a massive sweet tooth and spends a lot of time baking, so probably cake - he’s fond of little gay French patisserie nonsense.

How prepared is your oc? Ready for the worst no matter what, or completely lost in every situation? Would they have a medkit when it was needed? Would they have an umbrella if it rains?

As much as he panics, in a legitimate bad situation he is capable of keeping his head - he runs on adrenaline and suffers the consequences later. He carries a first-aid kit in his car, but has never needed to use it, and yes, he always has an umbrella.

How charitable is your oc? Or are they more stingy with their resources and money?

god. He is stingy, but not out of a miserly nature - he just legitimately does not have much money. He never has, ever since childhood, and that shit is ingrained in him - you watch what you’re spending, because you never know when you’re going to need to make an emergency payment.

If someone was describing your oc to someone who had never met them, what distinguishing features would they mention? How would one identify your oc in a crowd?

Short guy, kind of round-faced, round glasses - kinda looks like he’s lost even when he isn’t. Jumps if you bump into him.

Does your oc have any pleasure that embarrasses them so they keep it secret? Or are they open about all the things they enjoy?

literally everything that he enjoys, he’s embarrassed about. He likes old black-and-white movies and he’s embarrassed about that. He reads shitty romcom fiction and he’s embarrassed about that. He enjoys cooking, he’s embarrassed about that. He actually enjoys sex, believe it or not, and he’s embarrassed about it. Don’t even fuckin get him started on his kinks because he’s embarrassed about them. tbh Felix doesn’t really know how to enjoy himself without guilt or shame, because he always feels like he needs to justify the things he likes and he doesn’t know how to do it. He’s just embarrassed.

What is your oc’s stamina like? Would they be able to run a marathon, or not run at all? What about walking/another physical activity? How are they with exercise in general?

Shitty stamina - he’s got weak lungs and the extent of his running ability is running for a bus and then needing literally four hours to recover. He sort of makes a vague attempt to exercise at home, but is easily discouraged and would just rather lie on the couch having a crisis of body-image.

How long can your oc stay focused on one task before they get bored? Do they constantly have to switch things up or do they hyperfocus? What sort of things is it the opposite for?

Felix is the king of repetitive, menial tasks. Set him in front of a diary or a spreadsheet and he’s well away. He really doesn’t mind thoughtless admin labour, even as he insists that he’s capable of handling more responsibility - and although he is more than capable, he also feels comforted by the predictability of data-entry. A nice mix of both would be ideal.

What smells bring back specific memories to your oc? What are those memories like?

Antiseptic and rubber floors, with that underlying stink of sickness. They’re not good memories.

How jumpy or easily spooked is your oc? Do they have a fight or flight reflex to being startled, or are they never startled at all?

He’s super-jumpy and easy to startle, which is delightful to some people. Between fight or flight, he’ll fly.

How polite is your oc? Do they do everything with the utmost courtesy, or do they completely refuse to say please and thank you?

He’s unfailingly polite, because his mother would have beat him with a shoe if he wasn’t.

How flexible is your oc? Can they touch their toes or do they have trouble just sitting down because of how stiff they are?

He doesn’t think he’s flexible at all, but certain intercurricular activities with Lyon suggest that he’s more flexible than he thinks he is.

What is your oc’s typical walking like? Do they speed-walk everywhere, do they take quick short steps or long paces? How loud are their footsteps?

Because his legs are kinda short, he walks pretty quickly just to be able to keep up with people - quiet steps, because he’s trying not to draw attention to himself.

If your oc was in a video game, what would their idle animation be?

Cleaning his glasses, putting them back on, squinting through them, then taking them off and cleaning them again ad infinitum.

What topics does your oc know the most about? Are these obvious or would these be surprising to others?

He’s a talented cook and has absorbed quite a lot about flavour profiles and all that shit that I know nothing about so I’m not going into details lmao. He’s also got a bank of knowledge about classic films that he keeps to himself, as he’s never convinced anyone would be interested. He’s got a lot of shit that he keeps to himself for this same reason, and therefore there’s quite a lot he could surprise people with if the right topics came up.

What time of day is your oc most awake? What about most tired? Do they get up at the same time every morning without need of an alarm, or is their sleep schedule all over the place?

Tries to tell himself he’s a morning-person. He isn’t. Left to his own devices he’d wake up about 10 and fall asleep about 2am, but he’ll insist if asked that he’s naturally inclined to wake up early.

What would someone blackmail your oc with? Would they be successful in getting what they wanted?

they’d get hold of a list of his pornhub browsing history and yes, they would absolutely be successful.

How easily does your oc get attached to things? Does everything have a sentimental value to them, or do they see nothing as more valuable than its practical use? What about with people/animals?

He gets attached to people and animals very easily, but as for things - he gets angry when he breaks or loses items, but that’s more to do with being stressed about having to pay to replace them than anything sentimental. He’s thrifty to a fault and won’t throw anything out until it’s absolutely unusable, to the point that he’s gotten pretty skilled at sewing repairs in order to avoid getting rid of clothes. He does have sentimental attachments to a few things, but not the majority.

How stubborn is your oc? Are they easily convinced of the opposite opinion, do they not agree but let it happen anyways? Or do they cause conflicts with their inability to budge in their decisions?

He’s not stubborn, as such, but he does know his own mind. He can be talked around or into things quite easily, but he does like to feel as though his voice has been heard.

How much has your oc traveled? Why is this? Would they like to travel more? Or are they perfectly fine with staying home?

He’d prefer to stay home - there’s too much room for error travelling abroad, and the risks don’t really outweigh the benefits for him. He travels back and forth between England and Germany, and he has visited France before as a boy, but that’s about it.

What signs tell that your oc is nervous? Do they fidget, is it in their expression or the way they say things? Or are they very skilled at hiding it?

He fiddles with his glasses and fidgets his hands around, and is also (as mentioned) a blusher - he’s Not Subtle when he’s nervous or flustered, which in turn makes it worse.

How superstitious your oc? Do they end up following them ‘just in case’? Or are superstitions incredibly important to your oc? What are some that they believe? What about the ones they don’t?

He says he isn’t superstitious, but I’m not certain that’s true - I think he’s superstitious despite himself. He follows them, then gets annoyed with himself for following them and assures himself that he won’t do it again, but then when it comes to it next time he follows them again anyway. He won’t walk under ladders, won’t open an umbrella indoors and he broke a mirror once and almost died. The only one he doesn’t believe is unlucky black cats, because he’s never met a black cat that was unpleasant.

#felix1 #god PLEASE let the cut work this is huge

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ghost-ghost-baby · 5 years

Text

Misunderstanding // Hybrid!Izuku x reader oneshot //

a/n: there’s slight yandere themes,,,,,, sorry it’s been so long y’all all i can do is fuck around w my ocs and draw,,,, we l o v e depressive episodes,,,,,,

requests: open

“Izuku! Did you steal my blue sweater again?” You sighed as you sat down, discarded pile of washing in front of you. There wasn’t an answer, which you took as a ‘yes’, eyes narrowed as you marched down to his room.

“You know I’ve been wearing that a lot lately, you can’t just take it without asking.” The door opened to reveal your trembling bunny, green sweater clutched to his chest as he stood by the dresser.

“Gimme the sweater, ‘Zuku.”

“No.” Izuku shook his head, clutching your sweater even tighter.

“C’mon, Izuku, Shoto is meant to be dropping off the work soon, I can’t answer the door in something this revealing.” You didn’t know why he was acting so weird, but you’d have to deal with it later. You grabbed onto his arm, ignoring the sounds of protest as you tugged him to the living room.

“And no hiding in your nest when someone comes over, or when you’ve done something wrong and you know it.” You growled as you deposited him on the couch, hand running through your hair as you took in your bunny. His ears were twitching more than usual, and he had a death grip on your sweater, foot tapping against the floor. A knock at the door had you turning with a sigh, phone chiming at the same time to let you know Shoto was here.

“Y/n? I got the work you wanted?”

“Thank you so much Sho, you’re saving my ass here.” You greeted your friend with a hug, trusting the cat hybrid to hold your weight. You’d been doing it for years, after all. You took the work when you pulled away, making idle conversation and catching up, you’d have to grab a coffee together sometime. Izuku chose this moment to make himself known, sneaking up while you and Shoto were talking, using your distracted state to drape himself over your shoulders. That would have been fine by itself, but your bunny rubbed his cheek over your neck, scenting you loud and clear. Your brain froze, trapped between shock, Izuku never did this in front of people, and embarrassment, because Shoto was here.

“So uh yeah, I’ll see you around Y/n!” Shoto didn’t stay long after that, green eyes glaring at him until he was out of sight.

“Izuku! What the fuck was that? You can’t just fuckin… do that! In front of people, without seeing if I’m okay with it!”

“But I always do that, Y/n! It’s never been a problem before!”

“Not in front of people, Izuku! You can’t just do that!” You dropped onto the couch, sighing as your hands ran through your hair, wow, you’d really been sighing a lot lately.

“You’ve been acting, I don’t know… just… not like you should? Or like you normally are? I don’t know Izuku.”

It’d been about a week since that, and thankfully your bunny was back to his usual self. He’d needed a few… days… honestly they were the loneliest days of your life, but you’d go through even more for your bun.

“Hey Zuku, you in for a cuddle session? Maybe a marathon of Harry Potter? Or something? You can pick!” You looked up from your phone at the sound of footsteps, it was an off day for you, and you were bored. Izuku smiled, happily coming over to the couch and taking a seat next to you. The two of you were the same height, but the way he’d curl into you always made him seem smaller.

“You don’t have any plans for today?”

“Nah, I need a rest day, and we needed a day together too, ya know?” You shrugged, too preoccupied looking at your phone to see the way Izuku blushed.

“Yeah, it has been a while.”

You were almost asleep when a knock at the door made you jerk, accidentally disturbing the hybrid that had been cuddled against your front.

“Huh? Did we order pizza or something?” You rubbed your eyes, nose scrunching as you tried to figure out who it could be. Izuku was still half asleep, arms wrapped around your waist as you tried to sit up. The hybrid let out a whine as you untangled yourself, pressing a kiss to his forehead before you went to answer the door.

“Shoto? What’re you- are those flowers?” Your eyes widened, confusion setting in.

“Ah, yes. I wanted to ask… if you’d go out with me sometime?”

“I-ah, Shoto… that’s really sweet and all but… I can’t.” You smiled, glad when he didn’t look too upset.

“Is there someone else?”

“Y-Yeah, there has been for a while now…”

“It’s Izuku, isn’t it?” Shoto’s words made your face go redder than a tomato, but you couldn’t deny them.

“Yeah, it’s always been him.” You shrugged, rubbing the back of your neck.

“I hope… we can still be friends?” Shoto frowned, flowers lowered to his side.

“Oh, of course we can Sho! We’ve been friends for years, I wouldn’t let anything change that!” You leant forward to hug him, it was comforting.

“I’m glad. Good luck with Izuku.”

“What is up with the world.” You shook your head, finally closing the door and looking back towards the couch. Brows furrowing when Izuku wasn’t there.

“Zuku? Where’d you go?” You called out, worry growing when there was no answer. Your feet carried you towards the kitchen, and you froze when the back door was open. Izuku wouldn’t go out without you, right? The forest was dangerous, there were all kinds of things that would attack him. Not to mention it was raining. You didn’t think, running out the back door into the rain. It didn’t matter if you weren’t wearing shoes, or that your t-shirt would be soaked within minutes, you had to make sure Izuku was safe.

It was dark now, you were shivering and hugging yourself as you walked through the woods, calling out for your hybrid despite how raw your throat felt. How could he be so stupid? A flash of emerald green caught your eyes at once, and relief flooded your system as you headed towards the crouched figure.

“Izuku? Oh thank god, thank god you’re okay baby.” You collapsed next to him, arms wrapping around his shaking figure.

“Y-Y/n? What’re you doing out here?”

“Looking for you! You stupid fucking bunny. What the fuck were you thinking?” You couldn’t stop your voice breaking, burying your face in his hair to hide your tears.

“I-I… why?”

“Why? Because I love you, you’re my baby Zuku! W-When I saw you were gone I couldn’t- couldn’t even think! Why would you run way? Weren’t you happy? I can do better, I promise.”

“N-No, you-you’re amazing, Y/n! B-But when I woke up and Shoto was there I just- I couldn’t deal with you being with anyone else! And I didn’t wanna act bad and upset you so I just-”

“You’re stupid, you’re so fucking stupid, Izuku. I’m not interested in Shoto, we’re friends that’s it. Why didn’t you talk to me? Do you know how dangerous it is to go running off like this?” You were shaking, hot tears poured from your eyes and you had to wipe away the snot from your nose. Izuku was crying too, clinging to your shirt and apologising over and over again.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you, stupid bunny. You’re my everything.” You could barely hear yourself, but Izuku’s ears perked and you knew for certain he’d heard when he pulled away to rub his cheek against yours. A laugh bubbled up from your chest at the action, and then you were grabbing his face between your hands and kissing him like you’d never get the chance to again.

“You’re soaked, baby bunny, we gotta get you into some dry clothes.” You pushed Izuku into the bathroom, grabbing towels and fresh clothes from the laundry. You peeled off his shirt, throwing it in a wet heap, shortly followed by his pants. Izuku was a blushing mess, ears and tail twitching as you draped the biggest towel you had around him. You used the other to gently dry his hair, being careful of his ears.

“Okay, underwear off.” You were too worried about Izuku’s health to consider anything else, brows furrowing when he let out a squeak.

“You’re covered in a towel that goes past your knees, Izuku. Underwear off, now. Or do you want your dick to get frostbite?” You’d have time to be embarrassed later, right now you needed to make sure he was okay. Stuttering and trembling, muttered words of how embarrassing this was, Izuku let the last item of clothing drop to the floor, and you let out a happy sigh.

“That’s my good bunny!” You cooed, peppering his face in kisses, “Such a good boy for me!”

“Here are your clothes, I’ll go make us some tea!”

“Y-You still haven’t changed.” Izuku frowned as he came into the kitchen, seeing you setting two cups of tea down on the table. Still wearing your wet clothes.

“Oh it’s fine, I’ll change later-” You looked up, eyebrows cocked when Izuku had disappeared. You walked back towards the living room, confusion building when your bunny ran out of the bathroom, grabbing your hand to drag you back there. Izuku proceeded to strip your outer clothes off, quickly wrapping a towel around you before he moved on to drying your hair. You were speechless, mind going completely bank because what was he doing?

“You al-always take care of me so… I wanted-wanted to take care of you.” Izuku avoided your eyes, face resembling a tomato as he finished drying your hair.

“I-uh… thank you Izuku!” Your face flushed to match his, grin overtaking your face because this… this was more than you ever could have hoped for. Sweatpants and a hoodie were pushed into your arms, Izuku going bright red as he mumbled something about dinner and left the room. The smile stayed glued to your face as you got changed in record time, all but running out of the bathroom to hug Izuku.

“Why don’t we get take out for dinner? Your pick!” You chirped as you pulled him close, letting the hybrid scent you as he considered his options.

“Can we- can we get pizza?”

“Of course bunny!”

#izuku x reader #yandere izuku x reader #izuku midoriya #hybrid!au #hybrid!izuku x reader #bnha x reader #yandere x reader #x reader #bnha yandere #yandere #yandere imagines #deku x reader #midoriya x reader #yandere boku no hero academia #yandere my hero academia

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justanotherwannabeclassic · 4 years

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prompt 1: tattoo artist

For those of you who still pay attention to this nonsense blog, I’ve been working with @distant-rose on creating this wildly expansive second-generation Marvel AU. It’s pretty wild, has 20+ AUs of itself, well over 100 characters, and a timeline spanning 40+ years.

Thanks to her urging, and the support of @ohmightydevviepuu, @@optomisticgirl, and @shireness-says, I’ve decided at trying my hand at the Writers Month 2020 prompts, and writing stories within this universe. I honestly don’t know how much this will make to absolutely anyone because of it’s something that exists mostly in mine and Ro’s heads using previously established comic characters and OCs, but it’s fun and maybe you’ll enjoy the writing. So here it goes.

Characters: Olivier LeBeau, Eleanor Rogers, Kimiko Watanabe

Prompt 1: tattoo artist

Date: October 7, 2011

The design was simple enough: thirteen stars in a circle. “Like the Betsy Ross flag,” the client had said proudly, like it wasn’t the most cliche thing in the world for her, of all people, to request. Still, a client was a client, and Kimiko was smart enough not to draw attention to that very fact, especially since her favorite client was the one who brought her here. She was making a pretty penny using his body as a canvas, and Kimiko wasn’t about to disrupt that cash flow.

Still, it was very hard not to crack a joke that America’s Sweetheart Eleanor Rogers was getting a Betsy Ross tattoo on her wrist. She was taking it like a champ. Wrist tattoos had the tendency to be quite painful. Thankfully, it meant less flinching. God, Kimiko hated the flinchers. It made her job that much harder.

“I’m guessing a little tattoo sting is nothing compared to the shit you superhero types put up with,” Kimiko noted as she finished the first star.

“Gunshots are worse,” the blonde woman in the chair said with a wry grin, like she wasn’t just talking about the painfulness of being shot. “And not all of us can steal a healing factor to make the pain go away, like some people in this room.”

“It ain’t stealing if Logan lets me use his abilities, chere, you know that,” Olivier LeBeau, Kimiko’s favorite client-slash-X-Man replied. “Aren’t you always saying sharing is caring? Or does that only count for milkshakes and french fries?”

“Sharing french fries is caring. Which, clearly you don’t care, because you don’t share with me nearly enough.” America’s Sweetheart reminded him. The tone of her voice almost made Kimiko think that the other woman was flirting, but according to the magazine covers she saw in her corner bodega, Eleanor Rogers was dating Sonny Stark.

“Oui, because I get matching tattoos with people I clearly don’t care about.” As far as Kimiko was aware, Olivier was still seeing his old high school girlfriend. He’d never brought her in for matching ink. Then again, considering the eyes he was making at his friend, it was probably for the best.

Kimiko wanted to press for more details on that front, but again had no intention of drying up any revenue stream. Instead, feeling that the question was now safe, she inquired, “Betsy Ross a big thing between you, or is it some secret inside joke?”

Eleanor Rogers giggled. “Not really, no. The tattoo actually has meaning to me. Oli’s just a history nerd and thief, as we previously established.”

“And we already established that borrowing Logan’s healing factor ain’t what makes me a thief.” Well, he wasn’t buying that big. “Mais...I am fond of history. Besides, getting a matching tattoo commemorates that I was able to convince America’s Sweetheart into sullying her flesh with black ink. It’s a big deal, if some circles are to be believed.”

“You make that sound dirty. Sullying flesh.” Kimiko glanced up from her work to see Eleanor wrinkle her nose, but she didn’t look too upset. “It’s art. I’m getting art on my skin. Permanently.”

“C’est vrai. But I am the one who put the idea in your head. It’s okay to admit that.”

“Fine, I’m woman enough to admit that, but using the design was my idea.”

“Actually, I think the specific star pattern was Betsy Ross’s idea.”

“Sometimes, I don’t like you.”

“Well, too bad, because we’re getting matching tattoos.”

Kimiko halfway listened to their banter as she continued her work. If she were a betting woman, and if she knew where to place bets on that sort of thing, she had a feeling that these two were soon to be the superhero community’s next hottest hookup, if they weren’t already doing that on the down low. There was too much flirting going on, not at the normal level between friends of the opposite sex, and despite the earlier conversation about pain and gunshot wounds, Olivier had taken hold of Eleanor’s hand to help out in case it started to feeling like a gunshot wound. “You never know, chere.” Eleanor hadn’t pulled away.

“So, if you don’t mind me asking, why am I putting this star pattern on your wrist?”

“Well, for me, it’s a family thing. The Americana thing is obvious, but there’s more to it than that. My mom’s old code name was Agent 13. So the stars represent both her and my dad. It’s like having them both with me no matter. My brother had something similar, except it was part of the Great Seal,” Eleanor explained, pride seeping into her voice. So Kimiko had been wrong. There was more thought to it than the simple cliche. “This is my own spin on it….and Oli’s an American history nerd who is obsessed with 1776. So my reason is cooler.”

“This might be my first US History tattoo, but it won’t be my last.” Kimiko liked the sound of that. “I’m thinking ‘Liberty or Death’ right over my heart.”

“Any excuse to take off your shirt.”

“I normally don’t hear any complaints about that.”

The back-and-forth continued on as Kimiko worked on the few stars. Olivier was normally a talker when she was working on him, but that was increased tenfold with Eleanor. They happily chattered and teased away. If it wasn’t for Kimiko loudly announcing she had finished, she was certain they wouldn’t have noticed her.

“This is absolutely perfect,” Eleanor beamed as she studied the work on her wrist. Sincerity laced her praised, and Kimiko began to understand why she earned the nickname America’s Sweetheart. She was pretty damned earnest. “I’m going to have to tell Francis. He was talking about maybe getting something. 10/10 I will recommend you.”

Kimiko walked Eleanor through proper care and maintenance while the tattoo healed before turning to her favorite client. “Okay, your turn. Where are we putting this one?” He already had so many.

“My ribs.” He flashed a smile.

Eleanor laughed.

“Like I said, any excuse to take off his shirt.”

Kimiko went to work.

#earth 6828 #ship: ollie #olivier lebeau #eleanor rogers #s writes things #writersmonth2020

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daddyfuckinlonglegs · 5 years

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Fallout OC Interview

So @lookbluesoup tagged me to do this, and I… well I did it my own way, as ever. It’s long, so I hope you wanna stick with it. If you wanna do it, I’ll list the questions as a comment. I dunno, I don’t tag people really, do it if you want to. Particularly @bagheera-is-back and @wasteland-mama, and @saltsealed, but really, I’m enjoying reading them, so do it if you haven’t already. Nate ducked through the doorway, shaking the dirt from his shoes before stepping inside. Piper grinned and gestured to the chair opposite her, and untucked a small, stubby pencil from behind her ear. “Thanks for doing this, Blue. I’m sure they’ll get sick of hearing about you soon enough, but for now, we gotta give the people what they want.” Nate nodded, settling quietly into the chair, the leather of his jacket creaking as he lowered himself down. He hitched up his trousers at the knee, sniffed, cleared his throat. Piper smiled at him, and nodded to the table next to him. “There’s a beer, if you want it. Help you relax a little.” Nate raised an eyebrow. “You tryin’ to get me drunk, Wright? Liquor me up and hope I spill something good? Not very ethical.” He smiled, a little curl at the corner of his mouth, and Piper looked alarmed. “Oh, no! No, nothing like, that, I mean, there’s… there’s some water too, just, y'know, thought…” She cleared her throat nervously. “Shall we get started?”

She regained her composure, pulling up a chair in front of Nate, backward, and leaning her notepad on the back of it, legs straddling the seat. “So, first up, tell us some basics; what’s your full name?” “Uhm, Nathan Christopher Stahl.” “Mmhmm, and how old are you?” Nate shrugged, that little smile playing at his mouth. “Old enough to know better? I dunno, I was thirty-seven when the bombs dropped. So, give or take 200 years…” Piper flashed him a small smile. “Okay, give the readers some idea of what you look like; defining features, as you see them, what do people notice about you first?” Nate shuffled, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Uhhh, I dunno, I’m…tall, sorta gangly? Black hair, sideburns. My… my nose is kinda…” He pressed his finger to the tip, pushing it up and exaggerating his nostrils. They both laughed, and he looked away to the ceiling. “What is this, anyway, a personal ad? You tell ‘em what I look like.” “Oh don’t worry, I intend to.” She laughed. He winked at her, and she dropped her eyes to the notepad, blushing slightly. Dammit he made her nervous. “Okay, so tell us a bit about where you’re from? You a Boston native, or…” He nodded. “I was. Been here my whole life, except for, y'know, deployment. I grew up pretty near where Goodneighbor is, right by the Common. Moved over to Newton when I was about eight, nine. It was a nice place.” Piper nodded enthusiastically. “I bet it was! Things must be so different now… What was it like, growing up before the war? Can you tell us a little bit about you as a kid, what kind of things you’d get up to?” Nate sat back on the sofa, slinging his arm across the back. “Well, my dad wasn’t around so much, he was a SEAL, so he - a SEAL was like a really, uh, highly trained soldier, best of the best – so he wasn’t around all that much, me and my mom used to spend most of our weekends with my Grandpa, over in Roslindale. He was a good guy, let me pretty much do what I wanted to do, helped me build campfires and we used to go fishing sometimes. I never had the patience for fishing, so it always turned into a sorta… life lessons in a boat. Let me have a beer, smoke a cigarette, talked to me about girls, y'know, the stuff your parents wouldn’t like. My mom found out once, when I came home with beer spilled all across my pants, and boy she was mad. He was, uh, sneakier, after that. I got a lot of good memories with him.” “My mom, well, she had a temper, but she always did her best. I think all the time alone must have really gotten to her, especially with me, being a mischievous little bastard so much of the time. I didn’t exactly make it easy for her, but I think she was dealing with more than I really understood, at the time. My dad…” He paused, cleared his throat. “My dad and I never saw eye to eye.” Piper let him sit a moment, just in case he’d pick up the thread, but he stayed silent, looking off into the corner of the room, over his shoulder. He turned back to face her. “What’s next?” Piper nodded, licked her thumb and flicked the pages of her notepad. “Uhm… lemme see. Why don’t you tell us a little more about your association with the Minutemen? Rumour has it you’ve been promoted.” Nate laughed. “Nice to hear the Boston rumour mill is still in tip top condition. Yeah, I’ve been… requested to take on a more directorial role. The Minutmen are certainly growing again, there’s more and more settlements being established as a network across the commonwealth, more and more people signing up to watch each others’ backs and have more folks to rely on in a crisis. Lieutenant Garvey has been hard at work, rebuilding the Castle and the ranks are looking stronger than ever, even got a team modding power armour.” He smiled, leaning forward. “For any raiders out there reading this, that’s a real gentle way of saying don’t fuck with us.” Piper grinned. “Might have to censor that one, Blue. Don’t want to offend the delicate sensibilities of the commonwealth’s finest, y'understand. What about the Institute? There’s some, uh, talk that you’ve been inside, some questions about who you’re working with?” Nate sucked his teeth, shuffling his feet uncomfortably. “I’m not in a position to address that.” He leaned forward. “Between you and me, my Geiger counter is in the shop, and this is a bigger shit show than anyone thought. You can say I avoided the question, say I said no, whatever. I can’t talk about it.” She wriggled in her seat, flipping a fresh page, her eyes flashing inquisitively. “Okay, gotcha. So… back to Lieutenant Garvey, he’s one of the people you’re often seen travelling with, and you two seem to have a pretty good chemistry. Is he a squeeze, or is it purely professional?” Nate rolled his eyes. “Wright, this is gossip mag territory. I thought you were better than that.” She shrugged, her cheeks colouring a little. “Hey, not my fault, the people wanna know.” Nate sighed. “No, he’s not a “squeeze”. We’re close, for sure, he’s someone I trust, and we’ve saved each other’s assses plenty of times. But the same goes for Nick, and for Bobby MacCr- sorry, RJ MacCready. Honestly, Valentine is… I don’t think I’d have made it without him. He really kept me in line when I was trying to go off the rails. I owe him a lot.” Piper smiled sincerely. “Yeah, Nicky’s a real good guy. Lotta heart, for a synthetic man, huh?” He nodded. Piper took a deep breath. “So, to press the question a little, is there anyone you’re involved with, currently? Romantically involved with?” Nate chuckled under his breath. “Not exactly. There’s… I’ve got, shall we say, interests.” “C'mon Blue, spill it.” She prodded. “Give us lonely commonwealth folks some hope.” He laughed. “Well, there’s… a little guy, from out of town, he knows who he is. And, well, Diamond city certainly has it’s fair share of pretty girls. Pretty girls with plenty of attitude, girls that make the authorities a little uncomfortable. I’m a sucker for a girl who knows how to get what she wants.” He met her eyes, and Piper’s stomach leapt. He’s kidding, he’s just a goddamn flirt. “Okay, so to move on… Enemies. You gotta have a fair few of them, being in your position?” Nate nodded, drawing his lips tight. “Yeah, unfortunately. The gunners, predictably, are not exactly looking to pat me on the back. The Brotherhood, we don’t see eye to eye either, I blew them off a while back and they’re not exactly pleased that we’re establishing a force of our own with the Minutemen. I spent enough time taking orders before the bombs, I’m really not looking to join up again. I’ve seen enough combat on other people’s terms.” “Do you enjoy the fighting? What’s the wildest combat story you’ve got for us? Spin us a yarn.” Nate considered, tugging a cigarette from his pocket. “Well, there’s… Do you mind?” He gestured at the cigarette, Piper shook her head. He lit up. “There’s a few, to be honest, taking out a deathclaw inside a museum, that was a traumatising experience. That’s where, y'see the scar here?” He tapped beneath his right eye. “Those things are lethal, even when you’re out of arms reach. Threw a big fucking chunk of ceiling tile at me, busted my nose pretty good, but made it out alive.” Piper whistled. “Lucky.” Nate shook his head. “Nah, I don’t believe in luck. I’m just grateful MacCready managed to do more than just shit his pants. Can’t blame him.” He inhaled and blew the smoke away quickly. “Don’t print that, he’ll kill me. There was the Castle, too. Big bastard Mirelurk, Garvey said it was a Queen, that was a close call. If I live my whole life and never have to smell another…” He shuddered, Piper laughed. “Not a fan of the aquatic life then?” “Not particularly. Bloodbugs though, they’re the… fuck those things. Can’t stand them. Bloatflies too, disgusting.” “Any critters you don’t hate?” She smiled. “Plenty. From a distance, Yao Guai are some majestic looking things, aren’t they? And mole rats, when they’re just going about their business…” He held his hands up like paws and stuck his teeth out, imitating the rats’ snuffling sound, and Piper laughed out loud. He grinned, and took another drag. “I don’t know about you, I’ve got a bit of a soft spot for them. And, maybe this is pre-war hagover, but protectrons, y'know, I kinda love the big stupid things. I used to work for RobCo, before I was in the Navy, and I always liked 'em the best.” Piper sat forward. “Used to work for RobCo? So you’re a bit of a whizz with electronics huh?” Nate shook his head, sucking the cigarette. “Not really. I was sales, I can do a bit of maintenance, and shut things down in a pinch, but I never had the flair for that stuff. My speciality was convincing people to buy stuff.” “Ahh, more of a sweet talker, huh?” “Takes one to know one, sugar.” He winked. “Yeah, I’ve always been more a lover than a fighter, and my mouth has gotten me into, and out of, plenty of trouble. Good with my hands, too, for what it’s worth.” He flicked his eyebrows in a quick arc, a half smile curling the corner of his mouth. Piper blushed again, laughing. “I can see why. You’re a rouge, aren’t you? What other tricks have you got up your sleeve?” “Well, I’m not a bad swimmer, my aim’s pretty good, I’m pretty light on my feet, make a good steak.” he laughed. “And I might not be a brute-force kinda guy, but I can hold my own.” Piper nodded. “And how was it, adjusting to the world out here? The radiation? You must’ve been pretty shocked at the mutants, and ghouls…” Nate nodded. “For sure, it was a shock. Coming out of the vault was… I was already in a bad place, freezing and alone and… y'know, everything. When I got up to the surface, I just… my knees just went out, and honestly, I sat and cried, I don’t know how long.” He stubbed out his cigarette. “The next… I dunno, month or two, it was hard. Even just getting up, just walking around, it felt like all my bones were made of lead, my head full of water, y'know? I made it to Goodneighbor, but I was so sick, all the food I’d been scavving was poisoning me, and I didn’t know what the hell was happening. John – Mayor Hancock – got Amari to fix me up, but we, uh… he and I had some pretty serious misunderstandings back then, so I didn’t stick around to rest like I was supposed to. Nick really looked out for me around then, but… in the midst of it all he ended up being out of action, and Mayor Hancock ended up trekking into the glowing sea with me.” Piper’s face dropped. “I know. Crazy. Trust me, it was more crazy than it sounds. But he kept me alive, and we held up pretty well considering. I’ve never seen one man soak up so many chems before, but then, I wasn’t far behind.” Piper tilted her head quizically. “Are you a fan of… recreational substances, then?” Nate looked at the ceiling and chewed his lip. “Uhhh, I dunno, I have a bit of a love/hate relationship there. I’ve… been known to enjoy myself at a party, in the past, y'know, before the bombs. Sometimes a little too much. But things are different out here, and some can really change the tide of a fight. I’m not saying you should, I’m saying it’s an option, in a pinch.” Piper nodded. “D'you ever think about life before the war?” “All the time. All the time. So many places here have bits of my life attached, sometimes it’s like a little niggle in my stomach - “gee, I could really go for an ice cream right now!” - other times it’s like the floor falling out under you.” She sidestepped the obvious sore point, instead asking; “What’s ice cream?” Nate furrowed his brow. “It was… so it’s milk, like a thick cream, and they froze it, but not like a block of ice, it was… it was more like snow, I guess, like thick, sugary snow. All different flavours, you put it on a… a kinda waffle cone, and it just melted in your mouth, or you could put it in a soda and…” He paused, laughing. “It’s a lot harder to explain than I thought. But you’d have liked it. Sometimes couples went out for ice cream, like on a date, before a movie or something. I bet you’d have liked that too. I might even have offered to take you.” She laughed, smiling wistfully, eyes bright. “Sounds… tasty. You a soda kind of guy? I can’t get enough of the stuff.” “Well, I wasn’t,” he gestured, “before the war. But the fact that Nuka Cola is practically the same as it was then… it blows my mind, and it’s a nice little slice of memory. I heard some people are trying to find the formula, want to get the bottling plant up and running again. How’s that for an achievement?” He laughed, and Piper wanted to reach out and touch him, smooth her fingers across the little lines at the corners of his eyes, put her hand on his chest and feel his voice under her palm… She smiled at him. “Speaking of achievements, what would you say is the biggest one for you?” “Uhh, not being dead yet? I dunno, helping Preston re-establish the Minutemen is… it’s a huge thing, and I wouldn’t take credit for it all, but joining them, really making things better for people and really… instigating change. That’s something I’ve always wanted. I’m glad to be a part of it.” Piper nodded, scribbling frantically. “Any regrets?” Nate swept his hand through his hair, looking away again. “I dunno, that’s a big question. Yeah. I have some. I can’t really say more. Sorry.” “That’s okay. Would… would you say you have goals?” She leaned forward. “Things you’ve learned from those regrets? What do you want, what’re you working towards for the future?” He rubbed the corners of his mouth and thought for a moment. “I… guess I want to make a home again. Not just for myself, but for… for everyone out here. Just to make people feel safe, to bring a little bit of the lightness that life used to have. To give people back that… hope.” He looked at Piper, his eyes flicking from deep thought to a mischievous gleam. “Short term, I’d like that beer, and maybe to get laid. I dunno if you want to publish that though.” She laughed, blushing, closing her notebook and hopping to her feet. “I think that’s the perfect ending; giving the people hope, just like you said.” She stepped close to him, extending her hand, and he shook it warmly. “Thanks for being such a good sport, Blue. And… if you ever want to hit the road with someone, you just remember where to find me, 'kay? I’m always on the prowl for a new story, and you seem to just… scoop 'em up, by accident. I think it’d be a lot of fun, travelling with you, and I’m not too terrible with a pistol either. You gimme a shout, y'hear?” He stood, tugging his jacket down over his stomach, and nodded, smiling. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

#fallout 4 #fo4 #oc #piper wright #sole survivor #fanfic #I wrote this

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omgrachwrites · 5 years

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May Queen (Loki Laufeyson)

Pairing: OC x Loki

Summary: Astrid, the princess of Vanaheimr relocates to Asgard to seal a betrothal to the youngest prince. She soon finds happiness and a multitude of new friends. Unfortunately treachery and deceit lie in the court of Asgard in unlikely places, and she learns that true love never dies.

Warnings: little bit of angst, little bit of fluff, mentions of death, slowburn

Words: 2188

A/N: Sorry for the wait on this one guys but I hope you guys enjoy! Please let me know what you think and if you would like to be tagged, I love you all very much! xxx

Part Two - The tourney

Astrid had awoken that morning – the morning that some may say her life began and ended all at once – to see with delight that the frost on the windowpane had all but melted away. Happily and with much joy in her stride she hurried to look outside, over the expansive lands of the palace grounds and the princess saw that the frost had also melted on the emerald green grass. Even from the top of the tower in her chambers she could see the moisture sparkling like precious gems beneath the watery late winter sunlight.

Astrid took the sunlight – no matter how weak it was – and the melted frost as a sign that winter was finally all but over and spring was finally on its way after what felt like an age. Truly, she couldn’t wait to bask in the warm sun again and smell the sweet perfumes of the spring flowers, animals would soon be coming out of their long hibernation and baby animals would be born. The castle would soon be alive with music and the sweet voices of the bards singing of valiant heroes as they came to the palace to pledge their allegiance and loyalty to Queen Eira and her daughter. Winter was a lonely and quiet season with so few bards and performers making the long trip to the palace.

Astrid despised the winter more than any other season, of course the snow was always quite pretty at first but it soon grew rather tiresome, not to mention dangerous. Astrid had been born in the warmest and prettiest spring, her father always used to jest and say that fire lived in his daughter’s veins in place of blood. A couple of winters ago Astrid had gotten so sick from the cold that she’s almost withered and died in her bed, though she didn’t remember much of anything during that time. She hated the cold most of all – and cold people to boot. She hated the way that the cold seemed to creep inside of her and squeeze her heart.

The air that morning was fresh and crisp, it smelled like wet grass and forgotten dreams, she was having breakfast on the balcony of her chambers with Mara. Astrid was licking the honey and crumbs from the delicate pads of her fingers and she was reaching over the table to take another delicious morsel of honey cake when the Queen’s squire interrupted them with a message.

“The Queen requests your presence in her chambers my lady,” he paused with a look of disdain as Mata rose along with her mistress, “alone. There is no need for your maid,” he scowled, his upper lip twitched with disgust. The Queen’s squire had been a boy that Astrid had played with as a child and he’d always been incredibly sweet. Unfortunately, once he was given just a little bit of power it changed him for the worst.

“Do me a kindness,” Astrid hissed, “and never insult my handmaiden again or it may be the last thing you ever do,” she gave Mara a smile and in return she got a beaming grin back. Astrid narrowed her eyes at the squire before she departed from her chambers and she made to see her mother.

When Eira bade Astrid entry into her chambers a small bubble of worry and fear inflated within Astrid’s chest. The Queen looked extremely stressed; her normally elaborate raven hair was wild and askew around her pale face as she paced the length of the long room.

“Mother?” Eira’s head shot up when she heard the sound of her daughter’s sweet voice, “whatever is the matter?” Astrid asked.

Eira smiled serenely – or at least she tried to – as she combed her fingers through Astrid’s long soft hair and she motioned for the princess to sit down. She pressed a goblet of warm milk into Astrid’s hands; it had been sweetened with honey and cinnamon.

“I should have told you this years ago but it wasn’t always set in stone,” Eira muttered more to herself, Astrid raised an eyebrow and gestured for her mother to continue, “do you remember when you were fifteen and you fell in love with Erik? Do you remember what your father said when we both found out?”

Astrid frowned at her mother, that had happened over six years ago, she couldn’t think why her mother was bringing it up now, “yes, I remember. He said that if it was possible for me to marry for love then I could,” the King had always been very kind like that.

The Queen nodded and it looked like she was composing herself for what she had to say next, “about two months before your father died he had been conversing with Odin, the King of Asgard. He proposed a match between you and one of his sons; he thought that a marriage would be a good idea. If we were allied with the Asgardians it would more than likely send a powerful message to our enemies. Your father died before he and Odin could finalise the betrothal and we needed time to grieve for your father.”

Astrid sat there for a moment, gaping at her mother, she knew that her father had meant well but she just couldn’t help but feel horrendously betrayed, her father had lied to her. It took her a couple more moments before she could answer mother, “okay. So if the betrothal wasn’t finalised why tell me at all?” she whispered but she both knew and feared the answer.

Eira chewed her lip and placed a letter on the little table that separated them, “I received a letter from Odin yesterday morning, he wants the betrothal to be made final and he offers his youngest son Loki.”

Astrid knew why it was only now that Odin was so eager for her to be married into his household; his enemies had presumably lifted their gaze to Asgard. A sort of manic fear washed over Astrid, she didn’t want to marry this prince, and she didn’t want to be sold off like a common mule. She’d heard stories about women who married men they didn’t know and they were never seen again. Asgard and Vanaheimr were formidable fortresses but on their own they couldn’t hope to defeat all their enemies.

“I don’t want to,” she said simply, “I don’t want to marry someone that I do not know, I want to marry Erik. But I’m sure you’ve already accepted Odin’s offer, telling me was just so I don’t make a fuss.

Eira’s eyes that were normally so soft and kind hardened for just a second but in that second Astrid hated her.

“Sometimes we have to do things that we don’t want to do. Do you think that I wanted to marry your father? Thankfully I fell in love with him and you may be lucky enough to fall in love with Loki. You will both have a chance to get to know each other before you marry. He and his family will be joining us for the tourney in a months’ time so I don’t want to hear another word about it. Also, your Erik is promised to another.”

“Yes mother,” Astrid muttered like a dutiful daughter, trying not to feel it when her heart split into two and she quickly departed from the room and her mother’s presence.

When Astrid arrived back at her own chambers and she couldn’t stop herself from cursing her mother, her father and the youngest Prince of Asgard along with them. Mara dutifully listened and Astrid was so angry that she didn’t see the saddened longing expression on her handmaiden’s face. In the end Mara suggested that they sit outside under the trees and it seemed to calm down the princess considerably.

“Do you think that Loki of Asgard is going to be handsome?” Astrid asked as Mara combed her hair until it shone a couple of days before the tourney. Mara ceased in her movement for just a second.

“If he was would that make you forgive your mother?” Mara grinned at her through the golden gilded looking glass.

“No,” when Erik had heard about the betrothal he caused such a fuss and he hadn’t spoken a word to her since – even though he was engaged to another – there would be no forgiveness for that.

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Loki glanced at Thor to see an identical glum expression on his brother’s face and Loki knew why. Their father had forbidden Thor to ride out in front of the carriage; the older Asgardian would draw too much attention with his inability to stay quiet. At least Thor doesn’t have to marry someone he doesn’t know Loki thought bitterly. He had been so angry when his father told him that a betrothal had been arranged for him. He’d gotten so angry that he’d smashed his mirror and in the shattered fragments he thought that he’d seen his eyes turn red. Later on, when he’d calmed down he had decided that it was just a trick of the light.

The younger prince sighed and rested his chin on his hand as his icy blue eyes followed the world that was streaming past the carriage window. The land was beautiful; they travelled through lands of trickling streams, expansive lush forests and even a farm that had a little windmill.

“Oh cheer up brother!” Thor boomed, his voice even louder than usual in the small space of the carriage. Loki winced as Thor slapped his shoulder, “she may be a beautiful maiden.”

Loki rolled his eyes, Thor would never understand, he had always been the favourite, “I always have the worst luck so she probably looks like a toothless crone. Now leave me alone and let me sleep,” Loki hissed, leaning against the side of the carriage as he closed his eyes.

Loki could not say how long he’d slept for, maybe it had been for a couple of hours or maybe it had been a couple of days but he was awoken by Thor as they were crossing a little stone bridge. Loki’s first view of Vanaheimr was a magnificent beautiful white castle that was nestled deep into the mountains; it was a thing of fairy-tale.

As the Odinsons stepped out of their carriage Loki spotted the royal family standing in front of the castle, waiting to greet them. Loki’s eyes should have been fixed on the princess who looked very fine in silks of periwinkle blue and a crown of winter roses to match in her hair. However, he looked straight past her to the young woman with long golden hair. As he walked closer and vaguely heard his father and mother introduce themselves to the Queen, the similarities grew unnerving, the woman with the golden hair looked a lot like the fairy he’d met in the forest all those years ago.

“Prince Loki, it is an honour,” Loki quickly drew his attention to his future bride and saw with shock that she was really very beautiful – after all her name translated to ‘divine beauty.’ She had a lovely heart shaped face and big doe eyes with rosebud lips.

“Princess Astrid,” he muttered, kissing the top of her hand like he’d been taught to, “the honour is mine, I have not seen a sight more lovely than you. Truly.” The princess had the grace to blush.

Loki was still feeling slightly unnerved when he sat by Astrid’s side in the stands to watch the tourney, her handmaiden was called Mara but it couldn’t possibly be his Mara. That was just completely impossible, though he longed to have just a moment with her. He scolded himself whenever that thought entered his head. Loki was less than impressed with the tourney, with all that singing of the bards and the clanging of steel on steel as the knights fought for honour.

The tourney was much more what Thor loved, Loki would have loved nothing more than to seek out the library and seal himself inside with a good book until his wedding day. He really did have little interest in getting to know Astrid and he was sure that his mother knew that. Though, he had to admit that she was very lovely as she told him all about the knights from their noble houses.

On the second day of the tourney Queen Eira honoured and delighted Thor by asking him if he wanted to compete in the tourney. Loki was given the same offer but he politely declined. Loki allowed himself to clap and cheer as his brother rode to meet his opponent, a young boy not much older than Loki with flames in his hair.

Loki noticed the misty eyed looks that his future wife was giving Thor’s opponent. He also noticed the way Astrid’s face fell when the boy rode up and asked a lady with silver blonde hair to tie her favour onto his lance. It seemed like Loki wasn’t the only one with a secret and secrets never seemed to last too long at his father’s court.

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@theonelittleone @void-imaginations

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