#you have no idea the fangirl noises i was making while drawing this | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jadedxrealityw · 3 years

Text

-Amortentia- Blaise Zabini x Female Reader

☼-☪-☼

Kody: BLAISEEEEEEE DADDY- im sorry. yeah yeah i’m changing the canonical storyline- cry about it. I’m also fully aware Amortentia does not work like this lmao.

Request: you can make the summary short and less revealing for more fun hehe. Also it's totally up to you, dear! Only if you feel comfortable with it and no pressure! I hope you had a great weekend and drink more water ily <3 - 💐

House: Hufflepuff

Possible Triggers / Warnings: Slight slut shaming in the beginning, Draco being a little shit,

☼-☪-☼

you had been alone most of your life with your parents being on constant business trips from the ministry that would last for months on end. You were practically raised by your nanny, but she couldn’t teach you everything. You became socially awkward.

you never had any friends back at home which meant you had no experience communicating with people your age. You were walking awkwardness basically. It came at no surprise when you were sorted into Hufflepuff, even though both your parents were Slytherins- they weren’t disappointed in you though.

you had just managed to scramble by through your first four years of school. Four long years without any friends, but you didn’t mind. You could get by just by yourself. You were a strong independent woman and knew how to get yourself out of sticky situations.

unless it was stuck up Hufflepuff’s- then you were screwed

one fine day in your fourth year you were heading to the quidditch field so you could go watch the game. Slytherin against Hufflepuff. They were both tied at two wins against each other so you were eager to see who would win. You wore a brown buttoned sweater with a nice pear of tan overalls.

the fallen leaves under your foot made a satisfying crack noise as you walked along the field. The cheers and other various sounds of students were definitely drawing nearer. You popped another flavour bean into your mouth when a harsh push came to your shoulder, causing the box of flavour beans to fall.

you watched as they spilled out onto the grass with a look of solemn in your eyes “Dang- that was my last box” you mumble before a couple of snickers were heard in front of you. You look up to see three students wearing their regular Hufflepuff robes with there own casual clothes underneath.

“Drop something?” one asked. A girl with light brown bobbed hair and green eyes spoke. You nod once “Uh yeah, just my flavour beans. I- uh i can just buy new ones” you spoke, already starting to clam up “Your a hufflepuff aren’t you? Why aren’t you wearing yellow?” the girl asked somewhat accusingly.

alert alert. Confrontation detected. Activate escape protocol 17B

you didn’t answer and went to walk past them when another one of the three, a blond boy with blue eyes pushed you back to where you were standing. Shit. You fold your arms over your chest, looking at the ground “Your one of those Slytherin groupies are you, a house traitor?” the brown haired girl accused.

you opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. This made the two Hufflepuffs more annoyed “What? Cant speak? Let me guess, your like those Draco fangirls. Sweetie. Your def not pretty enough for him” she adds, making the boy aside her laugh.

did she just say def? Have you ever even talked to Draco Malfoy? Not the time to be thinking about that. “I uh-” before you could speak anymore the girl held up her hand “Don’t even try to defend yourself, Slut” you went wide eyed. No one has ever been so nasty to you.

“I’ve never seen two Hufflepuffs go at one of their own, before” a girls laugh came from behind you. She had black shoulder length hair and bangs with brown eyes. Pansy Parkinson. In front of her was two boys dressed in Slytherin Quidditch uniforms.

You quickly identify the platinum blond boy with pale skin as Draco Malfoy. The hair was always a dead give away and the other boy was slightly taller then him with dark skin. He was very handsome for a boy your age. What was his name again? Oh! Blaise- Blaise Zabini.

“For Hufflepuff’s you two are quite nasty” Draco spoke, a grin playing on his lips. The boy Hufflepuff rolled his eyes “Yeah whatever Malfoy, what’re you going to do. Tell your father?” that struck a nerve in the young Malfoy as he went to lunge at them until Blaise put a arm out, blocking Draco.

“Now, Now. Let’s not get physical. You see, me and my fellow housemates overheard your very deplorable conversation with this what seems like sweet girl. Honestly, how can you bully someone who can’t even get a word in?” Blaise spoke in such a proper way that you almost couldn’t tell he was insulting them.

the girl and boy were silent as he spoke for a while until the girl spoke up once more “Oh so she’s one of your play things, Zabini?” she questions with a smug look. Blaise’s neutral expression switched into a disgusted one “I don’t have play things. I actually have respect for other woman”

Blaise didn’t let them get another word in before he stepped in front of you “Are you alright? They didn’t hurt you did they?” he asked, using his hand to lift your chin and inspect your face. Touching- “No” you say in a meek voice. He nods once with a small smile “Good, now let’s go”

you tilt your head sto side. Go? “Um- go where?” you ask. Blaise gestures towards the quidditch field “The game of course. Me and Malfoy here have to get ready and you and Pansy will meet Theo in the Slytherin bleachers to watch the game of course.” as he spoke, Pansy skipped to your side, linking arms.

“Yeah! We can watch them make fools of themselves. Now lets go new friend!” Pansy said excitedly before practically dragged you towards the bleachers, leaving Draco and Blaise alone. The young Malfoy turned towards Blaise with a puzzled look “Since when did you involve yourself with Hufflepuffs?”

Blaise rolled his eyes before walking off, not answering his housemate

☼-☪-☼

7th year

after that day you became part of Blaise’s friend group. He’d talk to you as much as he talked to Theo, Pans, or Draco. Ask you how your day was, invite you to sit with him at lunch and even sneak you into the Slytherin house at times.

some people found it strange. A slytherin spending so much time with a Hufflepuff, but as stated Blaise didn’t care much of opinions hat didn’t come from his friends, but all his friends adored you. Case closed. It was around the end of sixth year is when your feelings changed from platonic to romantic.

you no longer saw him as your best friend that saved you from a bunch of nasty Hufflepuff’s all those years ago. You now saw him as someone you wanted to be with, all the time. To hold his hand, have him hold you, for him to just call you his. You fell hard.

but there was this fear, this fear that it would ruin everything you had with him. It was too great a risk, so like any normal person. You kept quiet as mouse and refused to let anyone know your feelings. Except for Pansy of course, but she found out on her own. Then told Draco, who told Theo.

everyone knew except Blaise actually

it was lunch and the Slytherins were waiting for you to arrive, Draco cleared his throat, getting the attention of the rest of them “I have a terribly good idea” he says, making Blaise look at him curiously “And that is?” he asked, leaning in to here what his housemate had to say.

Draco reaches into robe and pulls out a pink heart shaped bottle. “What in the hell? Why do you have a love potion?” Pansy asked with a amused chuckle. “Well- Y/n confessed to me that she had a crush on someone, but was too afraid to tell them. So i’m going to slip this into her drink to move her along”

Pansy and Theo both look at each other knowingly. They know full well that little ferret was lying. Y/n told Pansy first. What was he playing at? “That is so wrong on so many levels, Malfoy” Blaise spoke up first, looking at him in distaste.

“Hey! She told me that she wished she was more confident so she could tell this person there feelings. I’m being a good friend!” Draco retorted, another lie. Blaise face drops a little “Who even is this person she’s confessing to. It better not be some low life Gryffindor” Blaise grumbles.

Pansy’s eyebrow wiggles “Is that jealousy i here, Zabini?” she teases. Blaise rolls his eyes before looking back at his plate “Y/n can like whoever she want’s” he grumbles. “Really? ‘Cause your stabbing your steak” Pansy asked, leaning over across the table.

Blaise was indeed repeating jabbing at his food with his fork “I will use the slug-vomiting charm on you” he spoke, gritting his teeth. Pansy just smiled innocently “Cursing Pan’s i see” a voice came from behind him. Blaise turned his head around to see you, holding a textbook “Sorry i was late, got caught up”

you take a seat next to Blaise, seeing a full plate and water put out for you “Thanks for saving me some food?” you say with a small smile. “I did actually, because i’m your favorite” Draco gives you a sweet smile, one that you laugh nervously at “Uh- sure?” you reply.

☼-☪-☼

once finished your food, you reached for the cup of water and took a sip. As you go and place it down you notice that they were all staring at you? “What?” you ask and Theo gives you a smile “Feel any different?” he asked. You purse your lips together and slowly shake your head “No, i feel alright”

Draco huffs and places his head in his hand. You look over at Blaise who had went back to eating his food. You notice something on the corner of his mouth and grab the napkin on your table. Reaching up you wipe away the food on the corner of his mouth.

Blaise flinches and grabs your hand “What’re you doing?” he asked, gazing down at you. You snicker a bit at his reaction and gently tug your arm out of his grip “You had something on your mouth, didn’t want it to mess up your handsome face” you reply.

Pansy chokes on her water, which turns into a coughing fit. Blaise stared at you blankly, just blinking mindlessly while Draco punched the air.

☼-☪-☼

now, mind you. A typical love potion last up to 24 hours, but Draco being the idiot he was accidently poured half the bottle into your drink. So it was safe to say it was going to last more than a day. “Your a bloody fool, Malfoy!” Blaise exclaims.

“I didn’t mean to pour half of it! Someone bumped into me!” Draco retorts while both Theo and Pansy eat a box of flavour beans they were sharing, just casually watching the chaos unfold. “That my be true, but you still served it to her! You took advantage of her vulnerability!” Blaise shouts back.

Draco’s face fell, yeah could be a little prick sometimes, but he also cared about you deeply. He couldn’t tell Blaise he was your crush, but he could try to make it right. “I’ll make the antidote, but it will be a couple days” Blaise nods “Sorry for shouting” he says. Draco nods once before leaving the hallway.

“Hey guys” jeez- you just snuck up on people. Blaise steps towards you “Shouldn’t you be heading to charms class?” he asked, crossing his arms “What? Do you have her schedule memorized?” Pansy questions with a small laugh.

Blaise exhales deeply “I have a copy of it actually. Anyway-” he says and turns his attention back to you. “What do you need?” he asks, his tone changing to a more calm one. “Can you walk me to class?” you ask. Blaise raises a brow “Why?” he asked, not that he would have a problem.

“I want to spend more time with you” you spoke very nonchalantly. You almost wondered how you even spoke those words yourself. Blaise looks stunned for a moment, before a smile made a way to his face. This was just the potion talking, you were spewing nonsense he thought “As do i? Let’s get going shall we”

you smile brightly and grab his a=hand, interlocking your fingers. Blaise gives you a small nod before covering his mouth with his hands. Both Pansy and Theo watch them walk away “5 galleons Blaise confesses to Y/n by the end of this whole ordeal” Pansy points, chewing on a flavour bean.

Theo watched along her and nods “Your on, 10 galleons they both end up being friends again”

☼-☪-☼

it has been TWO days and Draco still hasn’t made the antidote. He claimed it was because he had to gather all the supplies without Snape around, which was probably true. Blaise had started to kind of- sort of- maybe- like the attention you were giving him.

oh yeah- surprise! Blaise had had a crush on you even longer then you did, he just knew how to keep his composure around you. It was easy for him, but it didn’t make him any less terrified of what would happen if those feelings were revealed.

currently, you were both sitting in the courtyard, studying on a bench, your choice. “I think that’s enough for the day. I’m surprised you asked me for my help. You usually never ask me for any academic advice” Blaise spoke, knowing full well why she asked him. The love potion.

you look up at him, closing the textbook in your hands “Well, you and Draco are the smartest people i know, but i prefer your company more” you smile lightly as you begin to cram the textbook into your bag. Blaise feels his heartbeat pick up once again.

It’s just the love potion. It’s just the love potion. It’s just the love potion. Think rationally Zabini! “I’m glad to hear that” he nods once. You both stand up from the bench and the curiosity gets the better of him. “So, what people have you’ve been talking too the past couple days?”

he wanted to know if you had actually been talking to your crush. So he could murder them talk to them man to man/woman. You shrug your shoulders “Just you guys, who else would i be talking to?” you spoke “Oh! i have an exam to take in potions! i’ll see you at dinner!”

you spoke with haste before leaning up to kiss his cheek “Bye Blaise!” and with that you ran off towards the entrance. Blaise held up his hand for a moment before exhaling “She’s- been only- talking to us? Who the hell is her crush then?” he thought aloud before picking up his things and walking away.

both Pansy and Theo pop up from behind the bushes “For a genius student, he sure is a idiot” Pansy spoke, eating the last bit of her cauldron cake. Theo nods “I thought Draco would be done with the antidote already?” he says. Pansy grinned evilly.

“Yeah...he should, but i keep hiding the ingredients. Blaise needs more time to realize she’s into him” she spoke, wiping her mouth off. Theo gasps and wacks her shoulder “That’s cheating! and you ate my last cauldron cake!” he sighs, crossing his arms.

“Yeah? Cry about it Nott”

☼-☪-☼

“It’s done!” a loud shout came from the dorm hallways of the Slytherin house towards the common room. Draco came running towards them, panting like a dog. “What’s done?” Pansy asked, sitting next to Theo eating a bowl of popcorn. No- they don’t know where she got it either.

“The antidote for Y/n’s love potion. It took so long because i kept misplacing everything. All we need to do is sneak it into her drink at dinner tonight” he explains. Blaise shot up from the loveseat he was sat on reading a book and snatched the vile from Draco. “Hey! What the hell?!”

“I’m not lying to Y/n anymore then i have to. I’ll catch up with you guys later” Blaise said before walking out the portrait door. “Alright that’s our cue!” Pansy and Theo stood up “What’re you guys doing?” Draco asked with a confused expression on his face.

“Spying on Blaise and Y/n to make sure they confess to each other” Theo explains, walking away with Pansy. Draco blinked a couple times before shaking his head “Guys that is such an invasion of there privacy and trust, they are our friends and we should be respectful......i’m coming with you”

bestie things i guess

☼-☪-☼

Blaise had just made it out the dungeons when he bumped into someone “Watch where your- oh Y/n. Why are you down here?” he asked. You chuckle and push away from him “I was going to see if Pansy wanted to have another sleepover, why are you out here? Dinner hasn’t started yet”

Blaise thinks of his next words before holding up the vile “I need you to drink this Y/n”

“What why?”

“Just do it”

“But-”

“If you trust me you will. I would never harm you”

“...Okay”

you grab the vile from his hand and pop the cork off. You look at the vile then Blaise who nods once. Exhaling, you pour the strange liquid down your throat, twinging at the unfamiliar taste. You feel almost a swirl around your chest before you look at Blaise again “What was that?”

Blaise places his hands on your shoulders, your face heating up slightly. Once again you were back being unnerved by this guy, but you didn’t notice “How do you feel about me Y/n?” he asked, making your E/c eyes widen a bit. “I’m sorry- come again?”

he sighs deeply and looks you in the eye. Ooo eye contact, scary. “the same i did yesterday?” you say vaguely. because who the hell asks that kind of question. Blaise lets go of your shoulders and rubs his face with his his hands. He was frustrated. “Y/n, how do you feel about me?”

you shrink at his gaze. The first thought that ran through your mind was that Pansy had snitched to him that you were in love with him “I’m so sorry- i didn’t want to tell you because i thought you would think i was weird!” you spurt out, confusing Blaise just a tad more.

“What are you talking about!?”

“Pansy told you about my crush on you didn’t she!?”

“Your what!?”

oh if the world could swallow you whole now “Oh merlin- i thought that’s what she told you!” you shout before trying to activate escape protocol 17B again and walk away. Blaise almost thought about letting you leave but you liked him! he was terrified you didn’t! but you do! So, why would he let you leave!?

he reaches back and grabs your arm, stopping you from walking any further “I get it. You don’t want to be friends anymore” you spoke sadly. Blaise stepped towards you, but you looked down at your feet instead of him “Your right, i don’t want to be friends anymore Y/n”

you felt your heart shatter. That was until one of his long arms wrapped around your waist and other pointed your chin up to look at him “I want you to be mine and i, yours” he spoke, a slight grin on his lips. Say what now? did Blaise Zabini just confess to you?

“Oh...”

“Is that all you have to say to that? I just spilled my heart out to you”

“What- what should i say?”

“Yes?...No?”

“Oh! yes- yes. Definitely yes! ”

“That’s a relief. I thought i had just made a full of myself”

“You are no fool Blaise Zabini”

Blaise gave you a small smile before leaning down. Oh shit. He stops midway, lips centimeters from yours “It is okay if i kiss you, correct?” he asks. We love a consent king. You nod slowly, making his smile grow wide before he presses his lips to yours.

“5 galleons you little shit, hand it over!” you both pull apart as three idiots come falling out a nearby broom closet. Pansy spilled her popcorn all over the hallway floor in the process. “Screw you Pansy, you cheated you pig!” Theo snaps back, Pansy hitting the back of his head “I am no pig!”

Draco was just lying face first on the floor, hoping no one would notice his presence. “Oh right pug-face!” Theo smirks. Pansy gasps before pulling out her wand “You are dead you queer!” she shouts. Theo pulled out his wand as well “You have a girlfriend, homo!” he shouts.

Pansy sputters for a moment “That’s besides the point!” they both circle each other as Draco picks himself off the floor “I shouldn’t have come” he mumbles, dusting off his robes. Both you and Blaise look at each other before bursting into laughter.

☼-☪-☼

Taglist: @the--queen-of-hell @sonbelleame @dracosathenaeum @pxroxide-prinxcesss

☼-☪-☼

Kody- I have no words for this other then- what the fuck did i just write? Anyways, peace!

269 notes · View notes

mmvalentine · 3 years

Text

The Bargain Pt 8 | Feysand

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

Feyre stared and stared.

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

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

Rhys pulled his hand back uncomfortably.

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

Feyre opened and closed her mouth, in shock.

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

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

Feyre's jaw snapped shut.

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

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

Rhys coloured again.

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

Feyre held her arm next to his.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Feyre shook her head.

"Then yeah. Yeah I do."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Rhys was not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

****

MASTERLIST

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

#feysand #feysand fic #acotar #mine #fluff

90 notes · View notes

shinsouskitten · 4 years

Text

Late Kinktober: Lingerie (hcs) - Multiple

I kinda wanted to do more than one person for this particular one so I defaulted to my hcs to include more space. I hope that’s okay

🍗 Keigo Takami (Hawks) x gn!reader, 💙🔥 Dabi x gn!reader, 🖤 Shota Aizawa x gn!reader

Warnings: kinktober so yk… nsfw, minors DNI

---

Keigo Takami (Hawks):

🍗 Chances are, if you don’t buy some within the first few months of you dating, he’s going to buy it for you. There’s just something special to Keigo about seeing you all dolled up just for him, and if it’s Hawks themed, that’s even better

🍗 Though lingerie is often used to set the mood, with Keigo it’s not uncommon for him to pause everything to get a particular piece he purchased for you, just so he can see how beautiful you look in it. Sure, it can sometimes take you out of the moment when he stops screwing you to run to the closet and grab a new piece of lingerie for you to try on, but with the attention he shows you after? Definitely worth it

🍗 He doesn’t let you take it off. Or well, he doesn’t let you take it all off. If it restricts access, Keigo will either remove that single piece or find a way around it. But he prefers to see you in as much as you’re able to wear when he spends special time with you

🍗 He likes seeing you in red most (figures). A high amount of buckles or straps don’t bother Keigo, he can just send his feathers to untie them without having to move attention away from you. In fact, he kinda likes having more restrictions, cause it means he gets to take him time taking it off you once you’re finished (while he does this he also kisses you all over cause he’s cute like that)

🍗 He also likes seeing feathers (the non-him kind) on your lingerie, and even as much as he wants to ravage you, he won’t ever tear or destroy the stuff you wear for him (not that it would really matter with the sheer amount of lingerie he buys you)

🍗 Chances are there’s a whole ass closet just for lingerie. And he’s the one that buys it all. You can try and tell him to calm down with the spending, but he wont. He wants to see his baby bird look special for him (*Yagami Yato fangirl noises*). No amount of money is too much

---

Dabi:

💙🔥 Wear lingerie within a mile of Dabi and you’re not leaving until it’s completely and utterly ruined. Torn, cut, burned, it’s reduced to such a state that it’s not even wearable. If you want to keep anything you wear for him, you’ll have to remove the pieces yourself to save them from destruction

💙🔥 Although sexual moments with Dabi tend to consist of quickies in alleys when he’s not on missions, there is the rare occasion when you get more time to spend together. That’s when the lingerie is brought out (never to be seen again)

💙🔥 He’s not preferential to color or style, and to be honest, he kind of finds it pointless to get all dressed up just to take it all off again. Neither of you really have the time to make an event out of the time you get together, so really he prefers easy access. Hell, you could probably draw fake lingerie on your body with a sharpie and he’ll still think you look like the sexiest person in the world

💙🔥 He tends to get frustrated if there are too many straps or buttons or ties or clasps, so much so that he usually ends up burning through them just to get it off you (so, as a word to the wise, don’t splash out on expensive lingerie to surprise Dabi)

💙🔥 Possibly the best way to use lingerie to your advantage is as a build up when he’s not quite close enough to you. Say nearing the end of a mission, when things begin to cool down, a small ping on his phone alerts him to your text. A single picture. That’s all it takes for not-so-little Dabi to jump at the thought of getting back to you. When he does, I’d suggest removing the lingerie in advance, or you’re not leaving with it intact

💙🔥 If there’s anything he’ll allow you to keep on it’s thigh-highs and garters. They don’t restrict access to the important areas - so there’s no need for Dabi to burn them off you - but they do make your legs look extra delicious

---

Shota Aizawa (Eraserhead):

🖤 Lingerie will go down one of two ways with Shota. The first, it’s your idea to surprise him after a rough day, in which case it ends up as a long night of body worship. The second, it’s part of a plan to tease the living hell out of him for ignoring you (he wasn’t doing it on purpose, hence why it’s not malicious revenge)

🖤 Best way to tease him? Send him photos of you wearing it when he’s meant to be in class. Whether he checks his phone right then and there or waits until he’s in the teacher’s lounge on break, he has to excuse himself quickly to call you up and tell you just how he’s going to punish you when he finally gets home

🖤 He doesn’t necessarily have a preference on color, but out of all the styles to choose from, he prefers the simpler and less extravagant pieces. You’re already the most beautiful person in the world to him, too much drama would just distract from that, and it’s not like you need the lingerie to seduce him. All you have to do is look at the man and he’s already weak at the knees

🖤 When you actually get down to business (to defeat the huns) he’s a mix between Dabi and Hawks. He doesn’t want to be restricted from exploring your body, but when he reaches his limit he’s more than happy simply ripping the lingerie off you to gain access (anything he destroys he always replaces though)

🖤 He’s also incredibly wary about your comfort. Some lingerie is designed purely on sex appeal - made to photograph well - so it doesn’t take into account actually performing sexual acts while wearing it. Simply put, if a piece is uncomfortable to have sex in, Shota will take it off you. It doesn’t matter how good you look if you don’t feel good

🖤 No matter how many times you stand in front of Shota in lingerie, each one is just as amazing as the first. Your beauty is astonishing, and each and every time he sees you a fire is lit in his heart (and other places). He never disappoints

520 notes · View notes

lonelyreputation · 4 years

Text

Arpeggio

A/N: Woooo a long one! The idea has been on a stick note for three months and it’s finally here 🤧 It was a very fun one to write! I hope you enjoy it & let me know your thoughts! Ahh! 💥🥰💗

Summary: You’re a ghostwriter for a famous singer and Shawn is head over heels in love with the singer who he thinks writes her own music…But little does he know it’s you.

MASTERLIST | LET’S CHAT 🥂

Warnings: Few swear words

WC: 13.7K // Angst & Fluff

You sat on the edge of your seat, legs crossed, as you stared intently at the “famed” singer-songwriter who was reading over your lyrics. She shuffled papers back and forth either humming in distaste when she didn’t like a particular lyric, or slamming a lyric sheet down on the table for a song she wanted to keep.

This was the third album cycle you had done this for her––writing songs and pitching them for her to sing. All while you sat in the background and collected royalties off the copyright you owned.

When you were sixteen, you wrote a song that circulated around a publishing company, and she––Zilla––did whatever she could to have the song be put on hold for her. She was a newer artist, but you heard whispers that she bought out Kacey Musgraves in order to record your song.

It started with one song as a work for hire, which grew to an EP where you had copyright ownership, and then to a full album…Which led you to sign a contract with her management team as her ghostwriter.

You remember it clear as day––you in their office, with your own entertainment lawyer, as Zilla and her manager slid an NDA across the table. You remember the manager trying their best to not outright say that Zilla wasn’t talented in songwriting––She just spends so much time making sure her vocals are perfect that she doesn’t have time to write and everyone wants personal songs nowadays.

Zilla’s real name was Willow––but in order to keep the artist name the same as the songwriting credits––she picked a stage name. So, her stage name was just Zilla, and your songwriting credit would be listed as Zilla Greene.

While the public knew that Zilla was a stage name for Willow, they thought that she also wrote her own songs under the pseudonym Zilla Greene…But nobody knew how far from the truth that was.

The sound of papers slamming down on a wooden table snapped you out from your daydream, “None of these work,” Zilla leaned back on the couch and crossed her arms over her chest, “I want to change my sound.”

You had spent months crafting the songs in front of her. Carefully crafted rhyme schemes, imagery that was similar to the second album you wrote for her that won her three Grammys, it had an even mix of upbeat songs and ballads…And she didn’t want any of them.

Your mouth dropped, “But what––You want––Why?”

Zilla shrugged her shoulders and picked at her nails, “The last album was so…Pop,” she cringed, “Too colorful. I need to change it up––Keep listeners on their toes––I’m seeing this album aesthetic as more black and white.”

You picked up your little notebook and scribbled down aesthetics and moods she wanted to match. With each sentence she rattled off, you wrote down key words––songs that connect in a story, feeling lost, black and white, heartbreak––a bit of your soul crumbled as you saw the songs you worked so hard on lay abandoned on the table without a second thought.

“Give me an album that gives me a perfect score on Pitchfork.”

The pen you frivolously scribbled down ideas on dropped from your hand, “That’s––I can’t control Pitchfork!”

Zilla rolled her eyes and scoffed, “Then you better write a damn good album.”

“But you––Red!” You shouted out to grab her attention as you saw her packing up her bag, “That’s a nine. Literally one point away from a perfect score.”

Hiking her back over her shoulder, Zilla flicked her perfect loose curls over her shoulder, “Red was a good debut album, 1989 was a good Grammy album, I need something great.”

And with that, the “famed” singer-songwriter walked out of the room. The clacks of her heels were as loud as the sound of your heart shattering as you continued to stare at the songs on the table…That’ll never have the chance to see the daylight.

---

It was a new day and the sun shining through your half-opened window as the thin white curtains softly blew with the breeze. You were sat crossed legged on the floor in a little corner of your apartment that you claimed as your “writing room.” It wasn’t much of a room––because you literally sat on the floor––but it was where you wrote the best.

You sat in the corner, right under the window, on a small pink and teal woven rug, with a few throw pillows, and lyric sheets scattered all over the floor.

How were you supposed to create a whole new album when you had a perfect album already written?

With your head buried in your hands, you were at standstill, never having writer's block hit you this hard. You had songs already written––An album that was hopefully a 7 on Pitchfork’s scale––but it wasn’t good enough for her.

Nothing seemed to be good enough for her.

Your phone dinged with an email and you read the preview that it was just a Google Alert for Zilla. You ignored the notification, not wanting to think about how angry you already were at her…even though you were currently writing for her.

A melody slowly came into your mind as you started humming into a voice note. But it was quickly cut off short when you heard the stomps of Mia––your roommate––come running from the kitchen to where you were.

“Did you see this interview?”

You raised an eyebrow at her and directed your eyes to the strewn papers on the floor, “I’m a little busy?”

She waved you off and couldn’t stop smiling, “Shawn Mendes is like in love with you.”

The phone dropped from your hands, and you cringed because you knew that was going to sound horrendous when you played back the voice note. But that wasn’t what was on your mind.

“What?!”

Mia nodded at your shocked reaction, but then backed up with her explanation, “Well, not you––Zilla,” she made a little throw up noise, “But he loves your songwriting.”

“How––”

Mia shoved her phone into your face and you saw a paused YouTube video. In the video you saw Shawn Mendes sitting on a chair, holding a white poster board, as he was in the middle of ripping a paper off. He was doing a Wired Autocomplete Interview. You skeptically looked up at Mia, and she gestured with her hands for you to hit play.

So you hit play and immediately cringed at the sound of his nails coming in contact with the poster board as he ripped off the blocking.

“Did Shawn Mendes write a song on Zilla’s last album?” Shawn let out a small laugh as he shook his head, “I wish she would write a song for me.” His smile only seemed to grow as he continued talking about her, “She posted an acoustic clip of this new song she was working on––I’m hoping it’s on her new album.”

You felt a flutter of butterflies swarm your stomach because you knew exactly what song he was talking about. It was the chorus to a song called Cardigan, the first song that Zilla hadn’t turned down for the new album.

The video Zilla posted on her Instagram was dimly lit as she sat on the ground with her guitar. And while she frustrated you to no end…You couldn’t deny that she had a beautiful voice.

And apparently Shawn Mendes thought so too.

“Ever since her self-titled EP, I’ve been obsessed with her,” at Shawn’s words you looked up at Mia who mirrored your smile, “There’s just something so personal about her songs and I…” he looked down at his shoes before looking back up at the camera, “I’m fangirling, but I really admire her songwriting. I hope to write with her one day.”

He went to rip off the next question, but you paused the video, not wanting to hear the scraping sound again.

With the phone slightly shaking in your hands, you slowly picked your head up to look at Mia with a wide smile, “Oh my God.”

Mia nodded excitedly and jumped around in a circle, “Shawn Mendes likes––no loves––your songwriting! He’s so in love with you––He wants to write songs with you––He––”

You started to feel an overwhelming sense of pride as a jolt of joy was sent from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. Shawn Mendes––an artist that you admired for his work ethic––admitted to fangirling over your songwriting.

You were about to get up and dance around with Mia because it felt like a celebration, but with one look at the lyric sheets scattered on the floor…Your excitement slowly diminished. Because all of these songs––all of your feelings, your poetry, your deepest regrets and highest of loves––were going to her.

Zilla got the credit for your art.

People told Zilla that she inspired them to write songs.

And Shawn admired what he thought was Zilla’s songwriting.

You picked up the pen and twirled it around your fingers, clenching your jaw, as you casted a regretful look at the songs on the floor…They were your pride and joy, even the ones you didn’t like very much, because each song took a little bit of your soul and was then shared with the world.

“He’s in love with Zilla’s writing,” you sucked in a deep breath, “Not mine.”

----

Instead of your safe writing spot at your apartment, you were in the studio for a change. Since the only people who knew about Zilla’s secret were you, Mia, your lawyer, her manager, and Zilla herself…The record label still booked sessions for Zilla to write. So you found yourself in the studio a few times a month whenever it came time to write her a new album.

“How’s the album?”

You had been writing for hours and felt so exhausted that you should’ve been surprised when you didn’t hear a door open. But you were absolutely dreading this album writing process, you were creating emotions––trying to draw from real experience––but nothing was working.

You stretched your arms over your head, squinting an eye when you heard your back crack, and looked up at Zilla with tired eyes, “I have a few songs.”

Her mouth dropped, not liking the progress you were making, “A few?”

“It’s been two and a half months since you said you wanted a whole genre switch,” You snapped at her, “You’re going from pop to some sort of folk alternative––”

Zilla scoffed, “You did this before. Red was country and 1989 was pop. This shouldn’t be a problem.”

The two of you were in a glaring match as you set your pen down, “You demanded a seventeen song album––Do you know how hard that is with the soft deadline Columbia gave you?”

“You had songs written before––”

“Then why didn’t you take those songs?” It was a genuine question, but also a question you knew the answer to. And you were right when she spurted something off about wanting to change up her sound.

“People love me because I’m not predictable,” Zilla walked over to where you were sitting and picked up a lyric sheet, humming in approval before letting it slowly fall to the ground, “And the songs you wrote before weren’t good enough.”

“What do you mean––”

“It’s just writing a few songs,” Zilla huffed out, “I don’t see how you can’t do that between now and the soft release date.”

You closed your eyes and let your head fall on the back of the couch cushion. You brought your hands up to rub the inside corners of your eyes, “You want a heartbreak album––I’m not in that headspace and you also need to record the songs.”

You opened your eyes and immediately glared, “Do you remember how Rob Stringer nearly flipped because I still had to finish writing Clean but you lied and said it was just the backing vocals that needed to be done?”

As much as Zilla wanted to refute you, she knew she had no place, because what you said was absolutely true. That was not a fun phone call to be a part of with the C.E.O. of Sony Music––even if you were on mute.

“It won him Album of the Year at the Grammys,” Zilla said in an unsympathetic voice, “And this album is going to be better than that.”

You let out a very loud and exasperated sigh, “That won’t cut it this time around! At least I had some inspiration for that album, because I have none––”

“You’re crazy,” Zilla narrowed her eyes, “Just find a random person and have them break your heart.” You had your mouth open for a rebuttal to tell her that that’s not how songwriting worked, but she picked a piece of lint off her sweater, “You’re pretty…enough.”

You squeezed your eyes tight as you felt yourself begin to seethe at her. You started to feel a slight pain in your jaw with how hard your teeth were clenched together, but your eyes were still shut as you tried to simmer your anger, as your voice came out dangerously low, “Out.”

“You can’t kick me out!” Zilla laughed and you opened your eyes to look at the woman who had no respect for your artistry…Even though you were the one to give her a career in the first place, “I’m paying for your studio time.”

“No, technically,” you glared over her shoulder at the door, “Columbia is paying for the studio.”

Zilla huffed as she crossed her stiff arms over her chest, “No need to get so angry––”

You felt yourself becoming more angry at her presence. Her presence was driving you insane and you knew that she was being a nuisance on purpose––poking you like a bear until she got her desired reaction out of you.

“Out!”

She looked at you with shock written all over her face. You were never one to raise your voice at anyone, and you always bent over backwards to comply with whatever Zilla wanted. But not now. You only felt angry and crazy in her presence, and those feelings only intensified in you when she pointed out how crazy and angry you were acting.

Zilla left––you don’t know if it was after you screamed at her or if she stayed for a few moments longer––because for the first time in writing this album for her…You felt inspiration for a song hit.

You heard the light piano keys first, humming the pitch in your head, as the light sound of finger picking on a guitar creeped into the back of your mind. Fresh off your argument with Zilla, the chorus of the song came first. You channeled your anger into inspiration as your hand gripped the pen until your knuckles hurt.

You don’t know how long you were writing the song for, but it was almost finished––I’m taking my time––Oh, how you wished you could take your time with this album––Taking my time––Well, maybe you will take your time with this album and get her in trouble with all of her deadlines, even though it would technically be breaking your contract too––Because you took everything from me.

She took your songs away from you.

“Oh, Sorry I––I might be in the wrong room?”

You dropped your pen and slammed your writing journal closed because no one was supposed to be in this room. With eyes wide, your heart stopped, because there were papers all around the room of potential songs for Zilla’s album.

Lifting your wrist to look at your watch, you saw that you were eleven minutes past your allotted amount of time Columbia reserved. Immediately, you scrambled to get off the couch as fast as possible, crunching your lyric sheets in the process.

You shook your head, still not looking up at the person because you wanted to make sure all of the songs were in your possession, “You’re probably in the right room. I––I’ve stayed past my time just a little and I––This is most likely definitely your room––”

“Wasn’t Zilla in here before?”

You froze and gripped the song sheet that you were currently stuffing in your bag.

Shit.

Slowly, you took a deep breath, and looked up at the person who had the room reserved after you. And your already wide eyes doubled in size when you saw that it was Shawn Mendes standing in front of you. The guy you saw on Mia’s cracked iPhone screen a few months ago––fangirling over songs you wrote.

His knuckles were white as he gripped his guitar case––in what you assumed to be excited nerves––as his head darted around the small studio space, hoping to catch a glimpse of the singer-songwriter.

“Oh, yeah she––She was done like forty minutes ago,” you spewed out a lie, “And then she let me use her remaining time.”

Shawn’s shoulders sunk in disappointment, and his smile faltered just a tad, undoubtedly disappointed that he missed his chance to meet a songwriter he admired. But little did he know that songwriter he actually admired was standing right in front of him.

You never wanted to be in the spotlight, never liked having attention on you, and it’s part of the reason why you agreed to work as Zilla’s ghostwriter. But with how her career took off, her songs––your stories––were gaining much more recognition than you ever thought. And it was times like these that you wished you could tell someone––other than your roommate––that they were your songs.

“So…” Shawn rocked on his feet a few times, quickly breaking eye contact with you to look at the remaining papers on the ground, “Are you friends with her?”

You nodded your head as you bent down to pick up the remaining songs, stuffing them deep in your bag, “We’re like––Uh––Yeah, pretty good friends.”

How else were you supposed to describe your business relationship with her? In the beginning, you hoped it would be more of a collaborative experience––Zilla telling you stories about her that you could write into songs––but that wasn’t the case.

She didn’t want to do any work besides reap the benefits of traveling the world and having millions of people adore her.

He ran his free hand through his curls, following your every move of cleaning up your mess, “Do you sing?”

His question caught you off guard, “Pardon?”

Shawn let out a small laugh and gestured to the recording studio the two of you were in, “Are you a musician?”

You immediately shook your head, “Oh no, I’m––I write.”

“Ah, a songwriter,” Shawn softly smiled in appreciation as he went to set his guitar down by the other couch in the room, “Without people like you, us singers would be useless.”

“You write your own stuff. Not many people do that anymore,” you rolled your eyes at his compliment, “That’s a redeeming quality.”

Shawn shrugged his shoulders, “Yeah, I…I do write my own stuff. With some help obviously, but it’s rare to find that nowadays.” You nodded in understanding as the two of you stood in silence. He slipped his hands into the front pockets of his blue jeans as a smile lit up his face, “Except for Zilla. Now she…Wow,” he whistled low, “She’s a once in a lifetime artist.”

You felt your throat tighten up.

“Yeah, that’s…” You let out a fake laugh as you bit the inside of your cheek, “That’s one way to put it.”

Shawn eagerly nodded as he continued to talk about your least favorite topic, “Her words––Her experiences––It’s all so personal. Sometimes I feel like I’m eavesdropping or reading her diary,” He plopped down on a black rolling chair and his smile grew wider, “Now she’s someone I respect.”

And while you knew he was complimenting your work, he didn’t know it. The person who he thought he respected so much was in the music industry for all the wrong reasons. The person he thought so highly sent you a text on the day she got her first Billboard number one––a song that you wrote––and demanded a new song in a few weeks time all while she popped open a bottle of champagne on her Instagram.

You nodded your head, knowing that if you said something, it wouldn’t be what he wanted to hear.

“I’ll let you get to work,” you picked up your journal from the couch cushion and slipped it in your bag, “I’ve taken up enough of your time.”

You turned to walk out the door but Shawn’s voice called you back, “Hey––You, um…I think this is yours?”

Turning around, you saw Shawn looking down at a familiar white piece of paper with words scratched out and arrows changing up verses, “This is…This is really good…” he looked up at you, “I didn’t catch your name?”

“Y/n,” you rushed out as you snatched the paper out of his hold.

Shawn nodded his head and stood up from the chair, leaning over your shoulder to continue reading the lyrics, “Centennial park…” he scratched his chin, “Nashville?”

You folded the paper in half, shielding your story from his eyes, as you lied, “Different park.”

Still stuck on the song, your mouth dropped as Shawn yanked the piece of paper out of your hands, opening it back up to skim over, “Maybe in the bridge––The last line…” you reached out to grab your paper from him, but he held it over his head, tilting his head back so he could still read the lyrics, “Change string to thread? Change up the lyrics like you did with the chords.”

Once he got his thought out, he lowered the piece of music and you grabbed it back, glaring at him as you stuffed it deep into your bag, “These aren’t mine,” you said bitterly, because while they were your words, they would eventually belong to Zilla, “They’re Zilla’s. So I’ll let her know.”

Shawn’s eyes bugged out of his head, mouth wide open in shock, “You––You have her lyric sheets?!” His eyes quickly darted down to your bag. You pulled your bag closer to your side out of protection, “The things I would do to have whatever job you have. I mean––To be able to read her songs before they’re out? That’s––I will literally trade places for a day with you.”

You let out a weak laugh, wishing that you got out of the studio on time, “I’m sure your job pays much better than being her…assistant.”

Shawn’s eyes glistened with excitement, “You’re her friend, assistant, and you get to read her songs?” Shawn ducked his head as he let out a chuckle, “I’d do anything to be you for a day.”

You pulled your eyebrows together, but tried to keep your face neutral, “I’m sure you wouldn’t.” But his smile only widened as he daydreamed about being so close to someone you thought was cousins with the devil, “I should really get going.”

Shawn nodded in understanding but called your name out, “Y/n––I don’t know if this is too forward, but…I mean––You don’t have to do it––But could you give Zilla my number?” He didn’t get a chance to look at how everything about your appearance dropped.

You were stunned as your mouth hung open, your eyes drooped in sadness, shoulders deflated…But he couldn’t visibly see the weight that you felt like was dropped in your stomach. He picked up a pen you left on the table and scribbled his number on a sticky note and you couldn’t remember a time where you felt so defeated.

He tore the sticky note off the pad and handed it over to you as he blushed, “I’d really love to write with her.”

You’d love to write with me, your brain screamed at you. But outing yourself as Zilla’s writer wasn’t worth all the lawsuits you would face.

You swallowed the lump in your throat and numbly nodded, “I’m sure she’d love to write with you too.”

----

Two and a half weeks later you found yourself writing in the same studio. And while you normally felt cooped up when in the studio, it was better at being at your apartment. Ever since you told Mia about your run in with Shawn it was the only thing she talked about.

She told you that it was the perfect time to tell the truth about your career––bring that witch down once and for all––were her exact words. But you didn’t want to deal with the mess of breaking an NDA.

So the next time you saw Zilla, you told her about your run in, and unenthusiastically handed her the sticky note with his number. Her smile was as wide as his when you told him you worked with Zilla. And while Zilla portrayed herself as a down-to-earth singer who transcended all genres of music…She was nothing but the opposite.

And from your brief run in with Shawn, you knew he was completely opposite of Zilla in every way, shape, and form.

The sound of your phone ringing brought you out of your songwriting process, without looking at caller I.D., you answered, “Hi, this is––”

“Y/n.”

You sucked in a breath when you heard her voice, “I have half of the album written. I’ll send you the songs and then you can record them,” You doodled in the margin of your journal, “So that way we don’t get in trouble again––”

“No, stop––Shawn is on his way to the studio.”

You let out a bitter laugh, your grip around the pen tightening as it scratched a hole in the paper, “I’m sure the fans will be happy to see pictures––

“No. Shut up for a minute,” at her strict tone you straightened your posture, not liking the way she was talking to you, “He’s coming to you. Where you are.”

You were about to make a quip about how she should talk to you with a little more respect, but when you heard the news of Shawn, your mind went from lyrical songwriting to ultimate panic.

“What?!”

“And I’m like an hour away from you,” you heard a car horn beep on the other end, “God, I hate L.A.––But he––He wants to write songs with me––”

“But you don’t write your own songs.”

“Don’t I fucking know,” she sneered through the phone.

A victorious small smile crept on your face, “Then why did you agree?”

“We had lunch and I told him I had a studio time slotted and he just texted me that he’s ten minutes away,” Zilla said all in one breath as she honked her horn twice, “because he wanted to surprise me.”

“Not much of a surprise if he’s texting you.”

She honked her horn again, “Y/n.”

“Sorry, sorry…I just,” you looked around at the mess you created in the studio. There were your usual papers strewn around, empty coffee cups, some takeaway food containers on the table that you were too lazy to throw out, “I’ve been here for like seven hours and there’s no way it’ll be clean before he comes.”

“Well do something––”

“Y/n?”

At the sound of your name being said gently in the same room as you, instead of it being yelled at through a phone, you quickly hung up on Zilla and threw your phone to the other end of the couch. You snapped your head up, and like the first time you saw him, he had his guitar case clutched in his hand, knuckles white.

“Shawn,” You said his name carefully as you looked wearily at him, “Hey.”

He slowly nodded his head, “Is…” and you cringed when you saw him looking around the mess you created in the studio, “…Is Zilla here?”

“Oh she––she just––” you had to think of something quick, “Had to pick something up at the pharmacy and it’s a bit out of the way––and she––so she called me and wanted me to uh––keep watch.”

Shawn looked at you, letting out a confused laugh, as he tilted his head, “Keep watch in a highly secure recording studio where the rooms lock?”

You nodded your head, keeping up with your lie, “She’s very very protective of her work space.”

Again, he nodded his head as he took another look around the messy studio, “I can…see that.” He shrugged his shoulders at the mess and took a seat on the ground.

You gathered up some of the papers that were on the couch around you, and on the table, and on the floor, “She had to go across town so she’ll be some time,” you shuffled the papers together until they all lined up. You set them aside and flipped to a clean page in your notebook, “So like––Make yourself at home.”

In the midst of gathering your stuff up to leave, he called you back in, “Y/n,” you lifted your head up to see an amused smirk on his face, “Leaving your watch position in her studio?”

Your eyes widened, “Well, uh––You’re here now so like––I think it’ll be fine if you’re here, and if you have stuff to work on, I don’t want to get in the way––”

Shawn shook his head, “Stay.”

As if you were trapped under a spell, you set your bag down on the couch and sat on the ground across from him. You sat with your legs criss-crossed as he opened the lid to his guitar case, “So…” you started off slow as you watched him carefully pull out his guitar.

Once he got in a comfortable sitting position with his guitar, you saw him pluck some strings and adjust the tuning pegs. There was one string that sounded off and you couldn’t hide your cringe.

“That B is flat. It needs to be higher.”

Shawn moved on to tune the E string, “I think it sounds fine.”

Even though he was looking down at his guitar, you still shook your head, “Get your tuner. It’s flat.”

Shawn let out a playful sigh and picked his head up to look for his tuner. Once he found it in the case, he clipped it on the head of the guitar, “If it’s not perfect, I buy you a coffee,” he smiled at you, “And if it is perfect, you buy me a coffee.”

You only offered him a smile as your response, already knowing that he would be the one buying you coffee. And when he got everything set up, plucked the string again, he looked at the tuner and frowned. He started twisting the peg as he continued to pick at the string until the B string sounded like music to your ears.

Shawn lifted his head up, a small smile toying at the edges of his mouth, as he looked at you through his eyelashes, “Do we have perfect pitch over here?”

You smiled and shrugged your shoulders, not wanting to brag because you did have perfect pitch, “I like a cappuccino––light on the foam with an extra shot of espresso.”

Shawn laughed at your response and rested his arm along the body of the guitar, “Working on anything exciting?”

You saw him eye the small stack of papers to your left, “Um…” self-consciously, you moved the papers further behind you so they were out of eyesight for him, “No…Not really.” Shawn gave you a look saying that he didn’t believe you, but you flipped the question to him, “What about you? Getting some inspiration for new songs?”

On the outside, you wiggled your eyebrows in a suggestive manner, trying to lighten the mood with a bit of joking. But on the inside, you felt your heart squeeze and your lungs collapse.

And it crushed you even more when he ducked his head and blushed, “I’m sure she’s told you plenty.” You laughed, pretending like you knew he was talking about, but Zilla hadn’t told you anything.

“She’s just so…Not what I expected,” a part of your spirits lifted, hoping he had seen her for who she truly was, but that was diminished when you noticed the far off dreamlike look in his eyes, “I think it makes me like her even more.”

You breathed out a silent laugh, twisting your hands together, “She’s a tricky one. Always…always surprising people.”

Shawn nodded his head and slowly strummed the guitar, “I think I like being surprised.”

This time, you threw your head back in genuine laughter, but when you saw his confused stare, you coughed in the crook of your elbow, “Stick with her if you like to be kept on your toes.”

Shawn tried to conceal his smile, but you knew he was already enamored with Zilla, too far gone to be swayed by anything you could say, “I’ll take that advice.” The two of you sat in another silence, as he softly strummed some chords on his guitar.

“Enough about her,” Shawn offered you a friendly smile, “I’m having trouble with something––Partly why I wanted to see her in the studio––” he leaned over to his backpack to grab out his sheet music and handed it to you, “See, I wanna do this,” he tried playing a chord, “But it’s not––I want it to sound different.”

You snorted and laid the sheet of paper on your knee, “That’s a good way to describe something you want changed.” Shawn glared at you, and you rolled your eyes, “How about…Have you tried an arpeggio?”

“You definitely went to music school.”

You waved off his comment, “I’m sure you know what it is––just maybe not it’s technical name,” you pushed yourself off from the ground and walked over to grab your guitar. Having already tuned it when you got in the studio, you sat down and situated the guitar on your lap.

“It’s like; do, do, do, do, do…” You tried humming, but when his face was still confused you started to play one of the most recognizable guitar riffs, “House Of The Rising Sun, the opening is an arpeggio,” you continued to hum along with the notes as you saw everything click in understanding in Shawn’s head.

You continued to play the opening chords on loop, “It’s a broken chord. So that way you can hear the individual notes,” you explained, “Say on piano, you would play an arpeggio by just playing each individual key, and it’s the same on a guitar. So when you play it slower,” you slowed down your strumming, “You can hear them more individually.”

Shawn nodded his head in awe of his little music lesson.

“They’re usually played in either ascending or descending order,” you picked up the pace of your strumming, before placing your hand flat on the strings, over the sound hole, to stop playing completely, “They’re also pretty common if you play them in a triad.”

Again, Shawn only nodded, enchanted by the sound of guitar.

“How much do you charge for music lessons?”

You let out a loud laugh and set your guitar over to the side, “I think you’re probably good in that department, but just buy me coffee then we’ll call it even.”

Shawn eagerly nodded his head, “I’m holding you to that––So like, with an arpeggio, is it always obvious that it’s there? Or do you have to listen to it really really closely?”

“I mean…” you tilted your head to the side, trying to find wording for the answer, “I think they’re more common than people realize? It’s a bit technical, because you're consecutively picking notes on different strings, but if you listen really closely, you’ll pick up on the broken chords.”

Shawn nodded, eyes seeming to be unfocused on something behind you, “Broken chords…” he mumbled under his breath a few times.

Feeling a little unsettled with him staring off into space, you cleared your throat, and that did the trick to snap him back to reality.

He smiled and then nodded his head toward the lyric sheet he handed you, “And these lyrics…I can’t––” He leaned over and slid the lyrics across the floor so that they were placed in between you two, “Something’s off.”

You nodded your head, biting your bottom lip in concentration, trying to figure out the root of the problem. Because while the lyrics were good, and you were able to hear the melody he had written down in your head, there was something off about them.

“Your rhyme scheme,” you mumbled, eyes still concentrated on the lyric sheet, “It’s a bit all over the place. So I would just narrow that down, figure out if you’re doing an arpeggio or not, and you should be golden.”

When you looked up, you saw Shawn look at you with the same admiration he had in his eyes during your first conversation when he said how much he respected Zilla’s songwriting.

You broke eye contact with him and scratched the back of your ear, “But only if you want––I don’t––Zilla is probably the person you should ask about this––”

Shawn shook his head, “She keeps blowing me off whenever I ask for her opinion,” and when you brought your gaze back up to him, he looked unsure of himself, “I know I’m not up to her level, and she’s…nice, but she always seems too busy to write.”

The insecure downcast of his eyes, and shrunken up body language, was a look you knew all too well. He didn’t think he was good enough to write songs with her. And what killed you was that he thought that way because she kept giving out false hope to him. It angered you because if only he knew that he was actually writing songs with the person he admired, he would have a different perspective on everything.

You let out a sigh, knowing exactly how rejected he must feel, and slid the song sheet back over to him, “For a cup of coffee I’ll give you music lessons.”

Everything about Shawn’s demeanor switched like a light. His posture straightened out, eyes beamed with joy, and his smile looked to be a little too wide after just offering him music lessons, “Please.”

You shyly nodded your head, feeling heat raise up to your cheeks, as you pulled down your phone from the couch and handed it over to him, “You can put your number in and then we can find a time.”

“I really appreciate this,” Shawn said as he swiftly typed away on your phone, “I can’t even––”

“Shawn?”

The voice sounded like nails on a chalkboard to you, but you regained your neutral composure before Shawn had the chance to notice any change. You looked up to see Zilla in the doorway, glaring down at the two of you––with your guitars out and a music sheet in between you. Shawn quickly handed your phone back to you, his full attention captured by Zilla.

“Hey, Z,” Shawn waved at her, still sitting, “Y/n was just helping me write––”

“Was she?” She gave you a pointed look that was meant to be a silent yell at you to not help him whatsoever because it could blow both of your covers.

You nodded your head, standing up with your guitar, putting as much distance between you and Shawn, “I only helped a little. I told him you were the one he should go to.”

And with that answer, you still received a glare from her because of course she was useless in helping him with anything music related. You could never win with her.

He handed his lyric sheet out toward Zilla, “If you want, you can look at what I have––”

“Actually,” Zilla cut him off with a smile, “I thought we could get some lunch.”

Shawn looked down and tapped the screen on his phone, the light illuminating a small portion of his face, as he looked up with eyebrows scrunched together, “It’s five fifteen?”

Zilla clapped her hands together, “Early dinner then.”

When you looked over at Shawn, you could see that he was disappointed that Zilla––once again––brushed off his attempt to write. With a slump of his shoulders, you heard a barely audible exhale of annoyance come from him, as he packed up his guitar with a nod.

Once his guitar was packed away, he stood up and offered you an apologetic smile.

“Come on,” Zilla reached out her hand for Shawn to take, “There’s this really good sushi restaurant we can go to before it gets too crowded.”

And even though you could tell that all he wanted to do was sit down and write songs, when he looked at her, his smile was genuine. He melted right at her touch and his eyes softened.

His eyes flooded with admiration for her because he thought she was the one who wrote the music she sang. He looked at her like she was his inspiration to keep writing better music. He’s looking at her the way he should be looking at you, your mind screamed.

His eyes only added insult to the injury that started the day you signed your contract agreeing to be her ghostwriter.

“I’ll see ya for a music lesson later, Y/n.” Shawn smiled over his shoulder as Zilla dragged him out of the door.

Before Shawn looked back at Zilla, she shot you a smirk, as if she was claiming Shawn in victory. And in a sense, she had won whatever contest she made up in her head.

She won by becoming a household name, she won by not doing any of the grunt work of composing music, she won by having people do the work for her, and she won the heart of the second most famous pop singer-songwriter in the world because he thought she wrote all her own songs.

And just like that, with the slam of the door, you were left exactly in a position you found yourself in plenty of times before. You were left alone in a studio, with all of your songs, while Zilla pranced around with the newest person who caught her attention.

But this time, instead of both of you not caring about what the other one did, you could feel yourself being exiled from any part of her life that revolved around Shawn. And you knew she did it purposefully. She was threatened that your songwriting could easily sway Shawn away from her. She was threatened because she knew she couldn’t give Shawn exactly what he wanted; a partner to write songs with.

And just like every other time Zilla left you aggravated with too many feelings, you began to write a song.

----

You took your sunglasses off and squitend your eyes as you scanned the outside patio of the coffee shop. You were about to take your phone out, but when you saw Shawn stand up from the table and excitedly wave his hands above his head, you smiled and weaved through tables.

When you approached the table, he wrapped his arms around your shoulders and your smile widened as you brought your arms around his waist.

“My favorite music teacher,” Shawn hummed as he pulled away from the hug.

You were a little disappointed he cut the hug off short, but you had to keep in mind that he was somewhat kind of seeing Zilla. You tried to get her to define her relationship with Shawn, but she would just wave you off and say it was nothing serious or kept asking if you were jealous.

While you might’ve been a little jealous whenever you saw a low quality paparazzi picture of them out in L.A, knowing that Zilla kept lying to Shawn about her songwriting “ability” always made you sleep with a smile on your face.

Just like the past month and a half when you met Shawn for coffee for one of your “music lessons,” he was always there first. And like every other time before, he had your cappuccino––light on the foam with an extra shot of espresso––at the spot across from him.

Not wanting to waste any time, Shawn eagerly took out his songwriting journal and flipped open to a random page. He slid the journal over to you and a laugh escaped your lips every time you saw how chaotic his journal looked.

He had different color post-it notes sticking up from the top, corners of pages that were worn down because of how frequently he dog-eared them, and the occasional loose leaf paper that was folded up and stuck between two pages.

Taking a sip of your coffee, you leaned closer to his journal, trying to decipher the messy script that was his handwriting.

You leaned back in the chair, nodding as you took another sip of coffee, “I like it.”

“Just like?” Shawn wrinkled his nose.

Shrugging your shoulders you took another look at the lyrics, “I mean…It’s a compliment?”

Shawn let out a sigh and buried his head into his hands for a moment before looking up at you with a pout, “Something’s not right.” He leaned over the table a bit and pointed at the second verse, “I don’t know what it is, but something isn’t right.”

“I like it.”

Shawn crossed his arms as he leaned back in his chair, “No, there’s something you’re not telling me,” he glared at you, “You ripped apart my song last week and now you’re too quiet.”

You took another sip of your coffee to cover up the fact that you did think something was wrong with it. But like he said before, with the way you tore his song up last week, you felt a little bad. You didn’t want to make him feel like he wasn’t a good songwriter, because he had a way with words that you found yourself learning from.

He didn’t have quite as many songwriting awards as you, but you knew he wasn’t too far off.

With a sigh you offered him a weak smile, “You’re too vague.” And with your first point of criticism, Shawn leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he took out a smaller journal and began to write down what you said, “You’ve already had songs that have touched on feeling lonely, and you’re really specific in the first verse, but too general with the second verse…” you trailed off your sentence and pointed at some scribbles on the paper, looking up at him, “Why’d you cross this out?”

Shawn stopped his scribbling to see what you pointed at, and when he saw the lyric, his cheeks turned red and he let his curls shield his embarrassed face, “It’s nothing,” he grumbled, “What should I change it to?”

You shook your head, “Nuh-uh,” you gave him an encouraging smile, “What did you write?”

He shook his head and looked down at the table, “I don’t like it.”

Under the table, you lightly brought your foot up to tap his shin. You didn’t stop nudging his leg with your foot until you saw a small smile grace his lips when he shyly looked up at you, “I’m wondering.”

Shawn rolled his eyes at your poor pun and retaliated by nudging his foot against yours in order for you to stop teasing him, “It’s…” he shook his head, “It’s too embarrassing.”

“I’m sure it’s really not as bad as you think,” you smiled at him again, “If you tell me what the lyric was, I’ll tell you what I think you should do music composition wise at the end.”

He narrowed his eyes at you and stepped on your foot, “You’re evil.”

You let out a small laugh as you rounded your hands around the hot coffee, “I see your three starts next to it, I know that’s your little ‘I need help’ symbol.”

Shawn flipped you off and it only caused the small amount of butterflies in your stomach to grow even more.

With a deep breath, he looked down at his hands and started picking at a loose piece of skin, “I wonder…” He peered up to see your anxious gaze, but then diverted his stare back down to his hands as he tore up the paper napkin in front of him, “When I cry into my hands, I’m conditioned to feel like it makes me less of a man.”

You were in the middle of lifting your coffee mug up for another sip, but when you heard the rest of the lyric your hands froze mid-air. You felt rooted to your seat as you stared at his face that still hadn’t looked up from tearing little pieces off the napkin.

How did he think that that lyric was not good enough? That was something that you wished you wrote.

It was so vulnerable and honest and most of all, it was true to who he was. In songwriting, no matter how personal a person thinks their experience is to them, there will always be hundreds upon thousands of people who will resonate with your story.

That was something you learned and used to your advantage.

On Red, you fought hard for one particular breakup song to stay on the album that Zilla thought was too personal. She kept saying––No one will care about leaving a scarf at his sister's house…No one will connect with dancing around the kitchen in the refrigerator light…And absolutely no one has had anyone ever call them up again just to “break them like a promise.”

But you fought hard and it was the song that solidified Zilla as this generation's greatest lyricist. And it was also the song she performed on the Grammy’s when her debut album was nominated for Album of the Year.

Nervously, Shawn peaked up and saw the neutral expression on your face as you sat frozen. He ran a hand through his hair and reached a hand across the table to pull his journal back, “See? You think it’s stupid. I––That’s why I crossed it off. It’s too vulnerable and if people heard me say that?” He let out a somber chuckle, “They would think of me as less of a man.”

You pulled his journal back toward you and snatched the pen he had laying next to his other notebook, “That’s…Shawn that’s an incredible lyric.”

You re-wrote the lyric on top of where it was originally scratched out, “There’s so much strength in vulnerability. Not enough people––especially male artist’s––are comfortable with their vulnerability. It’s refreshing and amazing and what you wrote––That lyric…”

When you looked up from re-writing the lyric down in his journal, you saw that he was trying to contain his growing smile by biting his bottom lip. And this time under the table, when you brought your foot up to his, you gave it a single tap in reassurance, “It might be my favorite lyric ever.”

His voice cracked, “Really?”

You nodded your head, “It fits so well with the theme of self-discovery and being honest with yourself,” his smile widened with every compliment you offered him. You leaned back in the chair, arms crossed over your chest with a proud smile on your face, “I think you knocked it out of the park with that one.”

Shawn ducked his head again and went back to ripping small pieces off the napkin, “That…That means a lot coming from you.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as you felt an electric current jolt through your veins, “If that lyric doesn’t make the song I won’t listen to the album.”

With a laugh so loud that it caused a few coffee shop patrons to look at your table, you let a smile overtake your face as you admired how the corners of Shawn’s eyes crinkled in joy.

“I’ll keep that promise,” Shawn scratched the bridge of his nose as he came down from his laughter, “So…” He briefly looked down at his songwriting journal with a smirk before looking back into your eyes, “What should I do with the end?”

You noticed a new flame of confidence in his eyes as he pushed his journal toward you more. You let out a laugh as you looked at him with your eyebrows raised in excitement, “I’m thinking of a choir and horns…”

----

As your “music lessons” with Shawn continued for the next few months, so did your writing for Zilla’s next album. And unfortunately, Zilla and Shawn also continued to see each other. And while it was always a punch in the gut whenever Zilla brought it up, your conversations with Shawn were solely on writing and experimenting with different synthesizers for his new album.

With your contract that essentially hid you from the public, it was so refreshing to be able to collaborate with someone instead of writing by yourself. Even though you mainly just helped Shawn with a bit of writing and composing some music, it was an experience that gave you new inspiration.

You always thought you worked best alone, but collaborating with Shawn opened your eyes to everything you were missing out on.

It was all fun until Shawn approached you saying that he wanted to give you credit on his upcoming album. That was when reality hit you because there was an exclusivity clause in your contract with Zilla stating that you could only write for her. You tried to politely decline Shawn’s offer, but every time you saw him he brought it up.

It wasn’t until you told him you would stop your music lessons with him if he kept asking you.

The times after that, you could tell he wanted to bring it up, he was fair in wanting to give credit where credit was due, but you told him not to worry about it. Someone had been taking credit for your songs for years.

And soon enough the end of July came around and the album you wrote––Zilla’s album––folklore, was released to the world.

The public’s reaction to this album was more than you could’ve imagined. It started off as an album with no inspiration, just meaningless stories, but it morphed into an album that you held close to your heart. It had your true feelings, real experiences––that might’ve been exaggerated just a little––but it was still an album based on personal experiences.

And while it only got an eight on Pitchfork––two points off from a perfect album––Rolling Stones gave it a 4.5 out of 5 rating with possibly the most beautiful review Rob Sheffield ever wrote about your songwriting. You made sure to hound Zilla to send him a thank you basket.

It might’ve been your favorite album you’ve ever written, and while you sipped on a glass of red wine at the album release party, all you had to do was look over to see Shawn’s laughing face to know why it was your favorite album.

He was still clueless that you wrote the album.

He still didn’t get any of the signs you gave about being the true songwriter. It was always you writing with Shawn while Zilla pulled him away to go out to an expensive restaurant. And while he still looked at Zilla like she was the most inspiring songwriter of today’s generation…He was starting to look at you the same way.

The inspiration behind the album came from everywhere. It was mostly centered around your frustrations with Zilla and how most of your regrets lied with signing that contract at sixteen. No matter how hard you tried, it still felt like you wasted most of your potential writing for her instead of yourself.

But then Shawn came into the studio that one day. He came in and your perspective changed.

You took another sip of red wine as the opening chords of the 1 started to play around the small venue ZIlla rented out to celebrate the release. Bitterly, you took another sip of wine, as you looked at the boy who inspired the song and threw an arm around the person you despised most in the world.

If one thing had been different…If you were the person who rightfully got credit for your work…Maybe it would’ve been you he threw an arm around and pulled in close to his chest.

Your wine glass was still half full, but you tossed your head back to finish it off. And when you brought the glass down, you saw Shawn turn his head toward you and offer you a wave.

You tightly smiled back at him and whirled around to the bar to get yourself another glass of wine.

You took full advantage of the open bar Zilla provided and another glass of red wine was placed in your hands. And as you tasted the alcohol hit the back of your throat, you couldn’t keep your eyes off of them.

If only all of your wishes came true.

----

“And we’re back!” James Corden cheerily smiled at the camera before turning to face the three guests sitting on the couch.

You were backstage watching with Shawn as the crowd clapped at the “return” from the commercial break. While you never went with Zilla to any of her interviews, you started tagging along to them to fit your “assistant for Zilla” cover story you told Shawn.

And with folklore released just a few weeks ago, you had accompanied Zilla on more than enough of the press tour. You were back in L.A., which eased your spirits a little, but it didn’t ease the bubble of animosity that you felt toward Zilla every time she talked about her experience writing folklore.

“So, Zilla,” James started off, “Congrats on the new album––folklore.” Everyone cheered and a smile lit up her face as James continued to praise her songwriting, “I’ve got to say, it’s probably my favorite album of yours. It’s so different than anything you’ve ever written before.”

Zilla crossed her legs and folded her hands on her knees, “It was…It was a totally different experience writing this album, and when inspiration hits you just have to get it all out…”

As Zilla went on about her fake inspiration for the album, you tuned her out. You could care less about what she thought the songs meant, but when you heard James bring up a little segment he wanted to do with Zilla, you felt your heart jump to your throat.

James deviously smiled, “As one of the greatest songwriters of our generation––Oh, stop blushing you know you are––I think we should play a little game.”

Zilla let out a small laugh, “Oh?”

Even though you couldn’t stand her, you knew when she was nervous. Her foot started to bounce and she ran a hand through her hair as she quickly looked down at the ground.

And before James explained his little game, you felt someone rush past you with an acoustic guitar in their hands. You felt your stomach churn with anxiety because Zilla had already performed on the show, and she was the only musical guest on the show.

The crew member rushed on stage to hand the guitar to James and then quickly ran off. Your eyes widened and you felt your breath come out short.

“We here at the Late Late Show are obsessed with folklore––and even more obsessed with your songwriting.”

Oh no.

James handed the guitar to Zilla who took it with shaky hands, “And we challenge you to write a mini-song. Right here,” The crowd cheered, “Right now.”

Oh no.

Your jaw dropped the same time as Zilla’s and she whipped her head to look backstage at you with petrified eyes.

“Oh, James…” Zilla nervously laughed as one of her hands gripped the neck of the guitar, “You can’t just write a song in that amount of time.”

One of the guests spoke up from the couch, “But earlier you said that it only took you seven minutes to write the chorus of hoax.”

But there was a small little detail that everyone was missing. It didn’t take Zilla seven minutes to write the chorus to that song…It took you seven minutes to write it.

Zilla glared at the guest, “It needed some tweaking after––”

James let out a loud laugh and waved her off, “Oh stop being modest,” he then turned in his seat to face the audience and speak into the camera, “After the break we’ll have a brand new little song from singer-songwriter, Zilla!”

The crowd erupted in cheers while both you and Zilla stood frozen in place. Never in your wildest dreams did you ever think Zilla would be in this position. Before every single interview or T.V. appearance, Zilla had her manager carefully pre-screen all of the questions and segments she would be part of to make sure nothing like this happened.

“This is exciting,” Shawn bounced on his feet, and for a moment, you forgot that he was standing next to you, “She always changes topics whenever I try to talk songwriting with her.”

This was definitely not an ideal situation for either her or you.

“That’s…” you looked around to see the audience excitedly talking amongst each other. You heard one girl in the front row say how she couldn’t believe she was going to witness the Zilla write something in front of her. You were beginning to feel increasingly hot with ever second that passed, “That’s one way to put it.”

“And we’re back!”

Zilla’s head whirled around again to look at you, but you turned your head to the side to try and find the nearest trash can in case you threw up.

“Zilla…” James started off with a smirk, “You just sat here looking off to the side…I’m hoping you heard the music in your head.”

The audience laughed, Shawn laughed, and Zilla just sat there in silence.

“Well, go on then,” James gestured to the guitar, “Play us what you wrote.”

At least Zilla knew how to play the guitar, and she started off strumming a random chord as she let out a shaky breath before singing.

“Oh…You make me feel like the sky…So…Blue,” you visibly cringed at her lyrics and were reminded as to why you were hired. But as she continued to sing, you started to feel more and more nauseous, “Oh…I wish you made me feel like…The sun, so bright and…Yellow.”

Everyone was silent.

You couldn’t keep your eyes off her as she still had her eyes shut tight. You knew exactly how she was feeling; embarrassed, nauseous, and utterly humiliated. You took a peak at Shawn and saw that his mouth tugged down in a frown, lips slightly parted, with his eyebrows furrowed together in confusion.

James’s stare was blank before he let out a forced chuckle, side-eyeing the audience, before he turned his attention back to Zilla, “Nice warm up, but now, let the magic flow and sing us the real song.”

Zilla opened her eyes and took in a deep breath, “That––I told you––You can’t push inspiration.”

James nodded his head, eyes wide in surprise at how Zilla snapped at him. Zilla was always poised, always charming everyone in the room, and never had she ever snapped at anyone in public before. Her jaw was clenched and you saw her shoulders tense up.

“I––I get that,” James tried his best to de-escalate the situation, “But you––your songwriting––You’ve always been so vocal about how you can write so fast, even without inspiration––”

You were surprised Zilla hadn’t snapped the neck of the guitar in half with how strong her grip was on it. She glared at James, “Well, I’m just not feeling it today––”

“I could’ve written something better,” the guest next to her laughed, which caused the audience to laugh along with them, as they continued their teasing, “Might need to take away your songwriting achievements––”

Zilla snapped her head to her right, turning her anger away from James, to the unknown actor who sat next to her, “I hired the best songwriter in in the business. She writes only the best for me––”

“––Because what you just sang was horrific.” They finished off their sentence.

For the third time tonight, you froze. All of the second-hand embarrassment you felt when she sang disappeared and was replaced with absolutely nothing. You had no thoughts––You just felt empty. You only had a feeling of absolute devastation, paired with a slight ringing in your ear, as your throat closed up.

You thought that her revelation couldn’t be heard by the actor talking over her. You thought that no one caught her slip up. But with the stunned look James had on his face, a few audible gasps of confusion from the audience, and Shawn stiffening up next to you…You knew that she blew her own cover because she didn’t know how to keep her cool.

James cleared his throat, “Your…Songwriter? You have someone else write songs for you?”

Zilla’s mouth formed a perfect ‘o’ as she realized her mistake, and her face lost color, “Well, no––Of course not––It’s me––I’m my own songwriter––”

The other guest to Zilla’s left let out a snort, “There’s no way you wrote exile––”

“And we’ll be back after the break!” James interrupted the trio on the couch before Zilla completely lost her head.

Right as the studio lights lit up more of the room, Zilla tore off her mic and stormed off the stage. Her hands were balled tight into fists as you could visibly see her face turn a darker shade of red with each stomp she took toward you. You felt your heartbeat stop as you noticed her fiery glare was tunnel visioned toward you.

“She––You write her songs?”

Oh, shit.

For a moment, you forgot that Shawn was standing next to you because all you were focused on was the death glare Zilla continued to shoot your way as she walked toward you. You had been at the end of many of her glares, but nothing compared to how she looked at you now. Everything she had built her career on was crumbling and you knew she was going to blame you.

You rapidly shook your head, and when you looked up at Shawn, all you saw was betrayal and sadness, “No––Of course not––How’d you ever come to that conclusion––”

“You’re always in the studio when she’s supposed to be there,” Shawn cut you off, “She never wants to talk about songwriting while you––we’ve––been writing songs together,” his eyes widened as you saw something click in his mind, “Invisible String…” His voice tapered off as he mentioned the song, “You––You said you were just holding onto it for her.”

As you felt your heart plummet down your throat and into your stomach, you continued to shake your head, “I was just holding it on for her––It’s not––I––”

“I gave you a suggestion to change a lyric and it…You changed it,” his eyes that were full of despair suddenly narrowed at you.

Your voice cracked as he took a step away from you, “Shawn––”

He shook his head, “You lied––”

“This is all your fault,” Zilla shouted at you as she took hold of your elbow, spinning you away from Shawn to face her wrath, “If you could’ve––”

“How is this my fault?!”

Zilla shook with anger as you saw fire in her eyes, “It’s just––You,” she stomped her foot as she continued to throw her tantrum, “It’s all your fault! If you hadn’t been so caught up in writing with Shawn you would’ve been more focused on me. Because newsflash,” she took a step forward, “You still work for me.”

“You––Y/n? So she is your ghostwriter?”

Zilla’s eyes widened because she forgot that Shawn was also backstage with you. And she basically just confirmed everything she tried so hard to deny when she was on stage.

You were long forgotten as Zilla turned to face Shawn. She tried to take hold of his hands, but he shook her off and took a step back, “It’s––We have a partnership––We both write–––”

“You take credit for the songs that Y/n writes,” Shawn said it more as a statement than a question, but his voice was still one of disbelief.

Zilla’s face crumbled. She knew the only hold she had on Shawn was that he thought she wrote all her own music, “Shawn––”

“Zilla,” her manager came rushing toward her with panic written all over their face, “This––This is bad. We need to do some serious damage control––”

“The show––It’s pre-recorded,” Zilla hastily said, “Can’t we––Is there any way we can pay them to edit it out?”

Her manager grimaced as they shook their head, “Someone had their phone out, recorded the whole thing, and posted it to Twitter.” Zilla let out a noise that was a mix between a cry and whine, “Billboard already has a whole article written. TMZ is having a field day…” Her manager rubbed their temples, “It’s really not looking good.”

This time, Zilla did let out a soft cry as she tilted her head back to look at the ceiling. Everything she built her career on––The authenticity of songwriting––It was over.

“And you,” her manager gave you a disinterested look, “You should probably leave. If people saw you two together they might think––”

“Loud and clear,” you grumbled at them, not feeling the least bit sorry that Zilla had a meltdown on television and that it was all on video. This was the Zilla you knew. This was the “famed” singer-songwriter you had to deal with for years. She was rude, nasty, and the most self-centered musician in the industry.

With a deep breath, you were about to turn around and leave, but if this was how they were treating you after everything you gave up for her, you wanted to make one thing clear, “Don’t ever come to me asking for another song again.” You angrily breathed out, “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer as I expect that she,” you glared at Zilla, “Violated some term in the contract by admitting to having a ghostwriter.”

You whirled around, hoping that would be the last time you saw Zilla until you had to meet again to officially terminate your contract. When your back was facing her––all you heard was her crying––but you couldn’t find the one person who deserved an apology.

Shawn was gone.

----

Two months after the public meltdown Zilla had on James Corden, people were still trying to figure out who the ghostwriter was. But unlike the day you signed the contract at sixteen, there was an extra person who knew that you were Zilla’s ghostwriter. Shawn was added to the list of you, your roommate, your entertainment lawyer, Zilla’s manager, and Zilla herself that knew your secret identity.

Zilla had come out with a tearful apology less than twenty-four hours after multiple music publications came out calling her a fraud. And the next time that you saw her in person was with your entertainment lawyer to terminate the contract. When the contract was labeled “null and void” it felt like the chains Zilla had around your wrist were broken.

And ever since Zilla confirmed she’d been working with a ghostwriter in her tearful YouTube apology video, the internet had not stopped searching. In her video she said, “out of respect to the writer I worked so closely with over the years, I’m not revealing their identity.”

It was a low blow. Because everything about that sentence was a lie. The two of you never worked close together on any songs and you knew she had little to no respect for you. She made that clear during the years you worked for her.

Even after everything…You still liked the anonymity that came with the deal. Especially now, if you were to come out as her ghostwriter, you would have the attention of the world. And while you wanted credit for your work, you didn’t know if you were ready to be put on that stage yet.

But the thing that killed you the most was not being able to explain everything to Shawn.

He hadn’t responded to any of the messages you left him. You felt a pang of pain in your chest whenever you pulled up your messages with him and read back through your texts. You listened to the voice notes he sent you a three in the morning when he was struck with inspiration and you mourned the ridiculous selfies he sent you.

You had taken up a hobby of cooking complicated recipes, that needed your full attention, to keep yourself from hyperfocusing on the regret you felt by not explaining the situation to Shawn sooner. As you put the beef wellington in the oven, coming to a painful understanding that you would probably never hear from Shawn again, your phone dinged on the counter.

Two months after not hearing from him…He sent you a text. It was simple, and to a stranger looking in on your friendship, they wouldn’t know what it meant. But you understood it loud and clear.

Music lesson in twenty?

You yelled out to Mia––telling her to keep an eye out on the oven––as you grabbed your keys and dashed out the door. After you buckled up, you sent him a response––of course––and broke about every traffic law in the book as you raced to the coffee shop you always had your “music lessons” at.

Your park job was pitiful, but it didn’t matter, because you made it to the coffee shop in a record thirteen minutes with only one person on your mind. Automatically, your feet carried you through the coffee shop and to the back patio. You were about to sit at an empty table when you saw that your music partner was already sitting at one.

He was slumped down on the chair, arms tightly crossed over his chest, and even though he was wearing sunglasses you knew that he saw you enter. But unlike all the other times you had your music lessons, he didn’t jump up and wave his hands above his head.

Like routine, you weaved through the tables until you got to him.

You stood in front of him for the first time since the James Corden incident, and even though you could feel the irritation he felt toward you…You noticed two cups of coffee on the table. He had his usual black drip coffee and there was a cappuccino.

“Light on the foam with an extra shot of espresso,” Shawn mumbled.

You didn’t know what to say. So you didn’t say anything. You promptly sat down and circled your hands around the mug. Because even though it was October, you still felt cold in California.

The two of you sat in silence for a few moments longer; Shawn was still slumped in his chair while you sat with perfect posture, wanting to be ready for anything that came your way.

It was a silence that came when two people understand each other.

You let out a sigh as you looked at the latte art this particular coffee shop was known for, before you looked up at him with wide apologetic eyes, “I––I know saying sorry isn’t enough of an apology.” Shawn stayed slumped as he nodded his head. You saw your reflection in his sunglasses and gulped, “And not telling you because I was contractually obligated to keep quiet about being her ghostwriter…” you let out a pathetic laugh, “Just sounds shallow and shitty.”

“Why’d you do it?”

Why did you do it?

Truthfully, you didn’t think you had it in you to captivate the attention of record labels and you didn’t think you were interesting enough for a fanbase. Your plan was to hopefully get a publishing deal, write songs for that specific music publishing house, and have various artists cut your songs for their albums. But then you caught Zilla’s attention. And just like how she was with everything else in her life, she was selfish and wanted your talent all to herself.

Wanting to stall before you answered, you picked up the cappuccino and took a sip, but even beneath his sunglasses, you could feel his hard stare on you.

You sighed, “I––I didn’t like the idea of being in front of people. I was sixteen, didn’t want to be pulled away from home, and I felt like I was better suited for writing and not performing.”

You tapped your fingers on the side of the ceramic mug, “And before I knew it…Zilla heard one of my demos floating around a publishing company, liked it enough to cut it, and then it turned into signing a contract with her to be her ghostwriter.”

Shawn shook his head as he leaned forward, taking off his sunglasses, tired eyes staring straight into yours as he rested his elbows on the table, “Why’d you let her pretend that she wrote your songs?”

Shawn briefly covered his face with his hands, before looking at you with a pained expression, “As a songwriter, I can’t…Just thinking about someone else claiming my feelings as their own?” The look he gave you made you want to hide in a cave for the rest of your life, “Why did you do that?”

You sucked in a breath and shrugged your shoulders, “I––I’m not sure.”

He nodded his head, not because he understood your answer, but in understanding that he wasn’t going to get anything else out of you.

“How’d you do it?” He stared straight into your eyes, not backing down until he got this answer out of you, “I looked at the songwriting credits and they were all under her name. I searched every performing rights organization database and saw that she––you––whoever––was with B.M.I. And I called the people I knew there and they said that they didn’t have anyone by your name.”

He let out a defeated sigh, “The only person they had registered for her songs,” the fact that he couldn’t even say Zilla’s name had you smiling just a tad, “Was a Zilla Greene.”

You nodded with a sad smile, “That’s me.”

Shawn tilted his head and scrunched his eyebrows together, “No, that’s not––Zilla Greene––That’s Zilla, not you––”

You shook your head and held up a hand to him, he quickly stopped talking and let you explain, “When Zilla approached me to be her ghostwriter, it was her manager’s idea to have Zilla––whose real name is Willow––perform under a stage name that synced up with a pseudonym for me.” Shawn slowly nodded his head, “So that way if anyone were to look at the songwriting credits and search her up on a database,” you gave him a pointed look, “It would just look like it was still her stage name. First name, last name, and all.”

Shawn let out a small laugh of disbelief, “I can’t believe you pulled it off for years.”

You shared his laugh and took a sip of your coffee, feeling a small sense of dread in your stomach, “And it would’ve kept going on if she didn’t practically admit it on James Corden.”

The atmosphere went back to feeling tense.

“So, are you…” Shawn lifted his head and looked at the people sitting around them, before he leaned into the middle of the table, whispering, “Still her ghostwriter?”

You let out a small laugh as you shook your head, “She technically broke our contract so, no,” you genuinely smiled for the first time when talking about Zilla, “I don’t write for her anymore.”

Shawn took a sip of his coffee before he mirrored your smile, “All this time…” He looked at you with a hint of remorse, “Whenever I told you how much I wanted to write with Zilla,” he smiled sadly, “I was actually writing with her.”

You nodded your head, “Don’t feel bad,” you waved him off, “I knew the whole time that it was me you wanted to write with.”

Shawn rolled his eyes and lightly nudged his foot against your leg under the table. At the gesture, you didn’t try to hide the blinding smile that overtook your face.

“I was literally fangirling over you in front of you,” he briefly looked down at the table, letting out a chuckle, before looking back up at you with soft eyes, “And I didn’t even know it.”

You smirked, “Don’t worry, it still boosted my ego all the more.”

Shawn let out a loud laugh as he flipped you off just when you were about to take another sip of the drink he bought for you.

“So…” Shawn started off slow, briefly breaking eye contact with you, “I’m not sure if you’re comfortable with it yet, but I…I’d be honored if I could credit you as a songwriter on my next album.”

After years of being brushed under the rug, years of someone taking advantage of your feelings for their own monetary benefit, having Shawn saying he would be honored to credit you––actually you––for your work…You felt yourself get choked up at the thought.

You sniffled, trying to hold back the small tears of joy you felt behind your eyes in, “I would really appreciate that.”

Shawn’s smile was wide as he nodded once at you, before he leaned over to reach for something under the table.

He pushed his songwriting journal over towards you and opened it up to a page with music notes. You looked down and his messy note placement as you heard the composition in your head.

“So, I’ve been practicing arpeggios,” you looked up from the journal to see a sheepish smile on his face, “And while the sound of broken chords sound really cool,” and again, under the table, he brushed his foot on top of yours, “I’d like it better if the chords were together.”

You smiled as you felt a familiar warm feeling in the pit of your stomach cause a shiver to run through your whole body.

“Together,” you repeated his words that most definitely held a double meaning, “I think I’d like if the chords were together, too.”

taglist (add / remove yourself!): @adelaidestreets, @alilovesshawn, @alina--jpeg, @fallinallincurls, @lights-on-mendes, @mendesficsxbombay, @now-that-i-saw-u, @particularnarry, @shawnmendez, @shawnsreputation, @turtoix, @vinylmendes, @5-seconds-of-mendes, @pupsandducks @musicalkeys, @madatmendes @im-salt-but-not-salty @sunkisseddreamer, @crossedties @fortheloveoftheaussies, @illuminatepotter , @par_r, @perfectlywrongsm

#Shawn Mendes fanfiction #Shawn Mendes imagine #Shawn Mendes fan fiction #Shawn Mendes writing #Shawn Mendes x reader #Shawn Mendes fanfic #Shawn Mendes imagines #Shawn Mendes fluff #Shawn Mendes x y/n #Shawn Mendes x me #Shawn Mendes fic #Shawn mendes writings #Shawn Mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes oneshot #Shawn Mendes oneshots #Shawn Mendes one shot #Shawn Mendes angst

457 notes · View notes

fragileizywriting · 3 years

Text

New fic is out for this AU!

pairing: Cat!Marinette / Ladybug!Adrien (Lady Noire / Misterbug) word count: 3,247 chapter: 1/1 rating: G summary: “You make me feel safe and wanted.” “You are wanted, little kitty.” “You know what I meant.” “I meant by me. You are wanted by me— and I know you know that— but I want to repeat it anyway. I always want you to be happy here.” AO3 | Start AU Here | Previous Fic in AU

“Kitty?”

“My mom.” It’s all Lady Noire can reply through all of her sniffles. She curls up tighter into a ball on the couch, pinching her eyes shut to the point it hurts, curling up her arms and legs and tail and head so that she becomes a single black smudge on the couch. A stain. Just simply a stain. “My mom. Always my mom. It was my mom again.”

Her head hurts. It’s foggy and full of cotton, so stuffy from everything. She’s grateful for the shade in his room that gets darker and darker as the minutes tick by, casting the space in total darkness, so that way he doesn’t have to see how miserable she is.

It must be horrible to have to live with an east-facing window. Her plants would love it. Her eyes, though, not so much.

She grabs for a decorative couch pillow above her head, swiping it and hiding her face, giving her even a bit of reprieve from the light.

Adrien sits down in front of her on the couch. She hears the noise of his pajama pants crinkling as he sits cross-legged on the rug underneath the coffee table, hears how he drums his fingers on his thighs, and hears how slow and steady his heartbeat is. He’s always so steady. Always so firm and anchoring to her. Even if the world continues in its attempt to rock her boat and tip her over and submerge her. Adrien always holds on for her when she’s too tired and too scared and too lonely to do so. “I’m sorry, kitty.”

“Her idea of comforting me is by telling me to be stronger. Whatever it is.”

He pauses. “Do you… do you want to talk about it?”

“It— it doesn’t matter. What I was upset about in the beginning is gone— I’m more upset at my mom now. Tell me how your day was first.” Because it’s always better to ask first about others than talk about her own problems. She doesn’t want to think about it for so long. If there’s any chance of forgetting about it, even for a little while, she’ll be happy.

And Adrien knows this. He knows this, because he knows her, and knows that her changing the subject is a cry for help. A flag upside down, calling out in distress. She’s sinking. It hurts. She’s injured. It shows. The silence is enough to make her remember the turbulent storms that made her cry in the first place, causing her to coil tighter, causing her to coil smaller, all in an attempt to get rid of the noise in her head.

He puts his hand on her head.

The hand at her scalp is soothing, and still damp from the shower— her lashes flutter when he gets a purr out of her, even if it’s a little watery. “My day was okay.”

“What did you do today?”

“I had school,” he shrugs a bit, jostling the hand that pets the soft parts of her ears. She knows about school. She’d spent the entire day boring a giant hole at the back of his head, chewing on her tongue like it was personally causing her grief, doing her utmost best like she always does to not accidentally tell Adrien that she’s the superhero that vaults through his bedroom window every afternoon. “Nothing, really. No extracurriculars for me today, either.”

She knows that, too.

She’d asked him at school.

He’d managed to stammer out a whole sentence to her today. To Marinette today.

He doesn’t have a problem talking to Lady Noire. But Marinette is an obstacle that he genuinely can’t conquer, no matter how many times she tries.

“I just came home and did homework and went to take a shower and suddenly…”

“And suddenly I’m here crying into your couch. I’m sorry,” she tries to fill in the gaps when he struggles on what to say next. “I’m always showing up with some kind of problem, aren’t I?”

“I don’t mind. You know I don’t. I love taking care of you— you’re my best friend. You know that, right?”

She does. Of course she does. That’s why it hurts so much.

“Some hero of Paris I am, huh?” Oh, she sounds bitter. “Showing up at a civilian’s house crying about personal life?”

“Hey,” he whispers, with something stern in his voice. “Stop that. Don’t talk like that— that’s not nice to yourself. You know you’re allowed to have problems outside of fighting Hawkmoth.”

And that’s it, really. That’s what gets another round of tears to freefall down her cheeks, but they come out sideways because she’s laying on her side— she can’t feel the tears track down on her black hexleather mask, but she knows she’s crying. She knows there are tears sloping across the bridge of her nose and joining with the tear pattern from her other eye, because she can feel how wet the whisps of her baby hairs feel against her ear when the tears finally get there. “I wish I didn’t have this.”

“Oh, kitty— I’m so sorry—”

“My mom just wants what’s best for me,” she feels herself get smaller and smaller, hiccuping hard enough for her to jump. Will she disappear? She wants to. Can she? Will Adrien let her? Probably not. He has a habit of wanting her to be happy, even when she wants to do nothing but disappear forever. “But we get into arguments about what that is all the time.”

“I know.”

“How I should be trying harder in school.”

“Yeah.”

“How I should”—she pauses, trying to think of something, anything, to fill in the gaps—“be trying harder to balance my civilian life and superhero duties.”

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, kitty.”

“How I need to be better. How I need to stop crying. How I need to do everything except what I’m doing now, because it isn’t enough.”

“Kitty…”

“She wants me to succeed, but instead of comforting me, she keeps adding more stress onto my shoulders by telling me how I should be dealing with my problems instead. And it hurts. And it’s painful. And I’m lonely. And I can’t do anything about it.”

“You have something you can do. You can stay right here with me. You can stay right here until it feels better. All of it. Everything.”

“It’s hard being a superhero,” she whispers. What an understatement of a lifetime. What does she choose to talk about first? What does she pick to say? “I don’t know how Mister Bug does it without breaking down.”

“Maybe he does. Maybe he struggles just as much as you do.”

“I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine that. Do you think he’s okay?”

“Well, he’s just a human. Just like you are. He has problems too, doesn’t he?”

“I can’t picture Mister Bug having problems. I should ask him.”

“I don’t think you need to,” Adrien shrugs. “I think he already knows how much you care about him.”

“Then, should I be going to him and telling him what’s wrong? Do you think he’s upset, knowing that I choose to talk to someone else about my problems?”

“I think he’s happy that you have someone you trust,” he whispers, damp fingers tracing the shell of her hexleather ears. She can’t feel it like her normal skin, because it’s a magical suit, but the little triangles at the top of her head twitch as if they’re sensitive to touch. “I think it makes him feel content, knowing that you go to someone you like and talk about your issues instead of bottling them up.”

“Love,” she corrects. “Everyone knows that I love you.”

“Love,” he repeats back to her with a smile. “Right. Yes. I think it makes him feel good, knowing you go to talk to someone you love about your problems.”

“The whole world knows, you know. Even Hawkmoth knows that you’re my best friend. People talk about it on social media all the time. We’re a pair. We’re a duo. We’re a matching set.”

If only people knew just how close the two of them actually are. Selfies taken on the street when either of them finds each other, pretending to act like simply a celebrity finding another celebrity on the streets of Paris, instead of being two best friends.

“We’re a team,�� he whispers.

“Team shark.”

“Exactly,” he talks even softer. “We’re a team, little kitty. You and me.”

“Because no jaw is too strong,” she replies.

“No smile is too full of teeth,” oh, there’s a smile in his voice.

“And no mouth is too wide to keep me away from you. Never. No Akuma. No Lady Noire’s mother. No stupid photoshoots that they pencil you in at the last minute. No world-ending apocalypse that Mister Bug and I have to fix every month. Nothing will keep me from you.” They settle into a silence that is only partially filled with her sniffles and the occasional wipe of her mask with the back of her hand. It’s a shame she can’t feel his fingers on her back, following the lines of her spine like she knows he’s doing— but it’s the sacrifice she pays up in order to stay protected from Akuma battles.

“Nothing will keep me from you, either. No nightmares, no Akuma, no fangirls that drive me crazy.”

She listens to the silence, opening her eyes to the darkening room, watching the sky outside his floor-to-ceiling windows start to orange and purple. It’s such a pretty sight, watching those clouds drift lazily by as Paris turns into a sight reminiscent of a dream. No wonder he doesn’t draw the curtains closed. Or maybe he just wants his room accessible to her at all times. “You know, sunshine, my uncle said that if I bottle up too many emotions I might start to break things.”

His eyes look like stars, looking at her in alarm and worry. “Like, you’re going to get violent?”

“No! No. Never. Not really. You know I wouldn’t.”

“Oh. Wait, then I don’t understand what you mean.”

“It wouldn’t be my choice. It would be just like a misfire of my powers.”

“A misfire?”

“It’s kind of like a protection, or a last-resort. When I’m so stressed out that my body just goes into self-preservation, making sure that it’s impossible to take my miraculous ring in case I’m indisposed.”

“Oh. I never knew this.”

“It’s to stop me from getting Akumatized.” As if the explanation makes this any better. “But it’s still not a good thing. Self-preservation is a pretty selfish thing to happen.”

“What”—she watches him lick his lips, as if he’s trying to choose his next words carefully—“what does it look like?”

“How do I explain this— it’s kind of like— uhm. Do you remember that movie we watched?”

“We watch many movies together,” he snorts, scrunching his nose into something silly when she cracks a smile.

“Come on. The one with the wizard.”

“Do you know how little that narrows it down?”

“The one with the demon.”

“Oh boy. Remind me not to join any charades groups with you— we’d lose every round.” The two of them snicker at each other.

“Okay, it’s the one where the woman who falls in love with—” she pauses. “A guy.”

“Wait a minute. What were you going to say?”

“Just some guy.”

He narrows his eyes. “Some guy you really like.”

“He’s okay.”

“What’s his name?”

She twiddles her thumbs. “Howl.”

Recognition sparks in those beautiful emerald green eyes of his. “Oh. Oh. The love of your life, yes. I’m aware.”

“He’s not—”

“Yes he is.”

“I’m not—”

“Don’t bother lying, little kitty. I know why you love rewatching the movie with me, you little gremlin.”

“The music,” she argues, feeling her cheeks heat under her domino mask. “The atmosphere. The flowers—”

“The magician boys,” Adrien grins. “Howl especially. Admit it. You have a thing for blondes.”

“I— I do not. Anyway,” she tries her hardest not to grin back. If only he knew. If only he knew that she’s not thinking of Mister Bug when he says that. “Shut up. Stop looking at me. Stop it.”

“Am I right? Am I?”

“You’re harassing me.”

“It’s not harassment, it’s endearingly interrogating.”

“I’m moving on! I’m moving on from this topic!” She paws at him when his mouth twitches hard, trying to keep his laughter out. “Do you remember when Howl got so upset that his hair changed color?”

“And there was goo coming off the walls?”

“Yeah! Exactly! The room was shifting super weird and goo was dripping everywhere? Something similar happens with the black cat miraculous when they’re super upset.”

“Similar? Or do you actually make goo?”

“Just similar. I’m not a gooer.”

“Are you sure?”

“I promise, I’m goo free.”

“How free of goo are you?”

“Pretty gooless.”

“I don’t want to see you all gooey,” he ducks his head, smiling at her with a quirk of his mouth like he always does when he’s teasing. “I don’t ever want to see that happen. Ever. And it’s not going to happen, because you and I are a team, and team members don’t turn into goopy sludge.”

Does he know how much that means to her? To hear the words out loud that he doesn’t ever want to see her get to the breaking point where her miraculous powers start to drain and create vacuums in the air around her? That he’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure that she never gets to the stage where she breaks windows and concrete and whatever surface it is she’s standing on— whatever object she’s holding?

Her smile is so watery.

So, so watery.

“What? The concept of a jelly Lady Noire too strange for you?”

“Anything that isn’t my kitty in her normal and natural form is too strange for me,” he shares a smile with her, those beautiful green eyes looking at hers. “But don’t worry. If it ever gets to that point where you’re a gelatin, I’ll love you. Even when you’re gooey.”

“Gross.”

“And oozy.”

“Ew.”

“And goopy.”

“Ugh. Why do I sound so disgusting?”

“I’ll love you even if you’ve turned into a slime.”

“Watch out, Hawkmoth. Slime Noire is here. Even though I don’t actually turn into slime physically, I am emotionally. Try taking my miraculous now.” They share laughter hard enough to hurt in the spaces between her ribs. His laughter soothes an itch that is somewhere next to her heart— it’s a warm and gentle balm. She loves him. She loves him so much.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he tells her when she finally picks up her head from the couch, wiping at her eyes, smiling down at him. He has to crane his head up to look at her from where he is, sitting on the rug, but it doesn’t look like he minds it. “I’m glad you showed up, kitty. It’s lonely without you here.”

“I like coming here.” As if she even has to admit it. As if he doesn’t know. The only reason why she doesn’t stay permanently in this room is because of all the plants she’s populated her room with. And, of course, the whole problem that Adrien doesn’t know her secret identity. Hard to take a shower in a hexleather suit. It’s not like she would be able to move in and be able to use the bathroom. “You make me feel safe and wanted.”

“You are wanted.”

“You know what I meant.”

“I meant by me. You are wanted by me— and I know you know that— but I want to repeat it anyway. I always want you to be happy here.”

“You already make me feel happy. Always.” Oh, she can feel how her cheeks stain harder underneath her hexleather mask. “I know your house is quiet, but— when I’m here with you— it doesn’t feel so overwhelming. Being in my house makes everything so loud. So many cousins asking me to help them. So many aunts and uncles begging me to cover their shifts or go do errands. And my mom—”

Well.

“You don’t have to do any of that here.” He lifts his arms up, offering himself for a hug when she cuts herself off and starts to think about it all over again. She slips off the couch quick enough to startle him, planting a knee at the side of his hip and another between his legs and crushing his broad shoulders into a hug. His fingers find a way through her braid, just like always, massaging a certain spot on her scalp that makes her eyes role and see stars. “You don’t have to do anything. I want you here.”

“You’re just trying to make sure I don’t turn into Goopy Noire.”

“Maybe I like the idea of being able to save the citizens of Paris from a sludge,” he laughs so warmly into her shoulder. “Being a superhero of my own. Who knows. Or maybe I really do care about you, kitty.”

“What a weirdo.” Oh— her voice is cracking.

He doesn’t mention it. “God, I know. Caring about my best friend is so stupid these days.”

“Yeah. Who does that?”

“People who love one another.”

“Wait. Are you admitting you like me?”

“Don’t tell anyone. No one will hire me for modeling gigs if they found out about my secret.”

“You know what? Just because of that, you’ll be the first one to get consumed by my goo.” She dissolves into laughter so hard that the both of them tumble backwards on the rug from how much the both of them shake, grinning at each other like the idiots they are, snickering and poking fun at each other.

“Ew,” Adrien manages to say at some point during their laughter. “That sounds disgusting.”

“It’s the price to pay.”

“What price? What am I paying for?”

“No idea. But it’s the price you’re going to have to pay,” she wheezes out between snorts, peeling away from their hug just enough to make eye contact.

He can’t see her as well as she can see him. It’s dark now, and it’s way too dark for human eyes to see in his room. She can see him in perfect clarity, of course, because her miraculous allows her to see in the dark as if it were still daytime— so she gives herself the luxury of looking at him without him pulling a face or teasing her.

Just a little snippet.

Just a little indulgence.

Just a little moment that is hers that she won’t share with anyone else.

And yet, it’s as if he knows what she’s thinking about anyway, like he can read her face in this much darkness. His thumb rubs circles on her domino mask, wiping away her tears and her worries and her problems with that smile he only gives her. It’s not his Agreste smile. It’s Adrien’s smile. Toothy and stupid and silly and his— he’s not self conscious about himself in front of her. He never is. “You’re important to me, little kitty.”

“You’re important to me too, Charming,” she wiggles her toes in her boots before tackling him into another hug that makes her feel all warm and fuzzy. “I love you.”

“I love you too. Always. Every day. Gooey or not.”

AO3 | Start AU Here | Previous Fic in AU

#sharks and sugar extras #fragileizysasfic #fragileizyadrienette #ladrien #ladrien fanfic #cat!marinette #lady noire #kwami swap

25 notes · View notes

ikevamp-annalyne · 4 years

Text

Annalyne Sonata [IkeVamp OC]

Hey guys! I am so verry happy to finally being able to officially introduce my IkeVamp OC, Annalyne! ٩(●ᴗ●)۶

This is a very long post, but I hope you won’t be discouraged and will enjoy learning a bit more about her, and the story I imagined for her (^.^)ゞ

I also commissioned the MOST AMAZING ARTIST EVER @lemonsqueazie for drawing my baby OC! ღවꇳවღ She is my favourite artist, and also an amazing human being that I love very much. She is so attentive to what you tell her, always doing everything to meet your ideas and make the best art for you! I highly recommend to check out her blog @lemonsqueazie alongside her Instagram and her DeviantArt post about her commissions! You can also find all the infos here.

NOW, ON WITH THE OC! (๑ゝڡ◕๑)

Name: Annalyne

Last name: Sonata

Nicknames: Anna, Nana, Lyn

DOB: June, 19, 1995 (25 years old)

Origin: French

Languages: French, English, Spanish, Italian, German, Japanese, Korean

Height: 160cm (5.25ft)

Sexuality: pan

Job: freelance fashion designer, blogger, gamer

Passions: fashion, drawing, eating, baking, cooking, videogames, reading, music

Phobias: larvas and maggots, bugs (except ladybugs)

Lover: Leonardo Da Vinci

"Heh? What is this? Kinda like a storage room?"

Annalyne is a very chill woman, taking things at her own pace and working hard towards her goals and dreams. When she doesn't work, she becomes a lazy slug chilling with a good book or videogames -part of why she is also a gamer-.

Her most prominent traits are definitely: her kindness, her humour -made of bad puns and references-, her caring side, her clumsiness and her supportive behaviour. Number one fan of her family and friends.

She will always go out of her way to make her loved ones feel loved, supported or just important. She can also easily throw hands if needed. No one messes with her or her close ones without getting punished.

She has a hard time trusting people. It looks like she is close to everyone, but she hardly confides in people. It takes a hecking long time to build a relationship of trust with her -due to some childhood traumas-

She is strong-willed and -way too- a tad stubborn. But she compensates by being very sweet and cute. She can be very anxious but eating calms her, explaining her chubbiness. Also, count on her for helping everyone.

She is very good at cooking and baking, and loves making things herself. She loves dogs, but honestly, she loves almost every animal ever. She has a talent with them, understanding them beyond reason: animals love her.

"Call me the PUNisher."

She is easily triggered by disrespect, racism, homophobia, bullying and abuse. She can kick your ass off if needed, being very rude and violent when angry -she already broke the arm of a racist, and slapped Shakespeare...-

Comte is the one engaging conversation with her, asking her if she likes this painting. She is hyper excited talking about it and Comte cannot help but giggle, finding a Da Vinci's fangirl in modern days being pretty rare.

How she met Comte:

Annalyne lives near Paris and absolutely loves museums. Therefore she spends a hella lot of time in the Louvre, especially contemplating Da Vinci's works. She meets Comte in front of Da Vinci's painting Saint-Jean-Baptiste.

They spend some time debating and chatting over Leonardo Da Vinci's life, works of art and other controversies. He smiles a lot throughout the whole chat, since he wonders how his old friend would react.

How she ends up in Comte's mansion:

Comte bids her goodbye after they have finally seen Mona Lisa from up close. She thanks him for the delightful conversation, happy she has met someone as knowledgeable as him on her favourite historical figure.

She is taken aback, quite surprised, and thinks the mansion is a storage room. Maybe the man is actually an employee? She is curious though so she walks through the hall and stares at everything in awe.

When he leaves, waving his hand, his pocket watch falls and Annalyne picks it up. She chases after Comte all over the museum and sees him going through a door. She opens it and ends up in the mansion's hall.

Who she meets:

While discovering the hall, she stumbles upon Leonardo who's asleep. She doesn't want to wake him up but God, she stares for a good minute at the sleeping man. "I have never seen such a gorgeous man..."

She walks past him and continues looking for Comte. But then, Napoleon appears and asks her who she is, and what she does here. She tells him she wants to find the gorgeous blonde man to give him his watch.

He offers to give to him in lieu of her. But she is wary of him, a stranger. And Comte appears, the noise having caught up his attention. He recognises Annalyne and is surprised she is there. She gives him the watch.

The first dinner:

Comte gladly accepts the watch and asks her if she wants to dine with him and the residents of this mansion. Mansion? She stares at him, dumbfounded, and frowns. "Mansion? Isn't that a storage room or something?"

Comte giggles and promises to explain it all over dinner. Her trust for Comte and her love for food makes her accepting the offer. How surprised she is upon seeing all these people gather around a huge table!

She sits down and gets served by Sebastian, under all the surprised looks. Comte then proceeds on explaining it all to her: how all the residents in there are famous historical figures, and how she is the past.

How she reacts:

She is surprised, but she believes in timelapse, magic, etc. So she just stares in surprise and shock but is soon overexcited to meet all these people who changed history and inspired her throughout her whole life.

She will ask a bunch of questions to each of them, questions she has always been curious about, like the rumours and alleged controversies. Even when she hears about not being able to go back in her time, she is strangely chill about it.

"Well, there's no helping it! I will come up with a lie when I go back there!" But she will write letters and leave them -along jewels of hers- in places she thinks her friends or family could find them in the future.

Meeting her soulmate:

Sebastian shows her her room and then tells her to explore the mansion if she wants to. What she does! She then remembers the man sleeping in the hall? He must be a historical figure as well, but who can he be...?

She wants to know so she goes to find him and stumbles upon him, nearly falling on top of him. He seems awake since he is sitting on the floor. He had heard her footsteps so he smiles at her. "Well, who do we got there, Cara Mia?"

She smiles at the Italian nickname and tells him everything about her being here. He is surprised she is so chill about it but he smiles and introduces himself. "Well Cara Mia, nice to meet you. I'm Leonardo Da Vinci."

Upon hearing the name, her eyes widen and her breath catches in her throat. She stares, her heart beating faster every passing second. His smile is intoxicating and she cannot help but blush and stutter.

"W-well, nice to meet you, Leonar- huh Sir Leonardo? How, how should I call you?" He laughs."Leonardo is enough, Cara Mia." He smiles and pats her head before standing up. "Watch yourself, Cara Mia."

Her reaction upon the vampiric reveal:

After having talked with Comte and decided to stay in his mansion, she actually wonders how he could resurrect them. She decides to ask Sebastian, her new colleague, and he just shows her the Rouge and Blanc bottles.

"What's that?" She asks, pretty curious."Take a look and you will understand." She first goes for the Rouge and recognises the metallic smell of blood. She stares at Sebastian. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"They are all vampires. Except I, who is human." She widens her eyes, sueprised, and then goes "Aaaaah, that's how he did! Makes sense!" She smiles. "Is Comte the one who transformed them all or no?" "He did, yes."

"So, is he like, a pureblood vampire? A superior vampire who can turn humans into vampires?" "How do you know about this?" "Oh please, Sebastian. Cinema, animes, mangas and books are full of vampires."

Sebastian stares at her, bewildered. "And you are not afraid? They could easily feed off of you, even kill you." "Oh please Sebastian, they're more like puppies than wolves! If they were capable of this, you wouldn't be here!"

"Plus," she says while flashing a big dumb grin. "If they wanted to eat me, they would have already bitten me and emptied me of all my blood. They are not dangerous." Sebastian is shocked at how chill she is.

Her relationships with the residents:

She gets close to every resident ofthe mansion pretty fast, especially since she is not pushy, funny, kind, calm and knowledgeable on a lot of matters. They all grow a soft spot for her, even shyer and harsher residents.

Napoleon: they bond over cooking and baking. Also, since she is French, she can tell him about the impact he had on her country.

Mozart: music is common ground for them. She knows a lot about him and will sing for him, being allowed in the music room.

Arthur: writing sessions together, in his room or hers. They tease each other a lot and she is quick to react to his flirting.

Vincent: they are very close, bonding over drawing and painting. They talk a lot about art and have art sessions.

Theodorus: she doesn't let him win with his harsh replies and he likes that. She is strong and adores Vincent: he likes her a lot.

Isaac: she isn't pushy and gives him room so he likes talking with or teaching her a few things. They often meet in his room.

Jean: he likes how pure she is but she doesn't let him avoid her. She will do anything to befriend him and he gives in.

Dazai: sharing writing ideas brings them closer. They also laugh a lot because they are both airheads amd chaotic walking memes.

William: she likes his work but hates him. She will always avoid him, or shoot sharp daggers glares at him.

Comte: the father figure. She loves going to him to talk or when she needs some calm, and having tea together.

Sebastian: always laughing and teasing each other. She will flick his forehead when he assumes things for her.

Her relationship with her soulmate:

She is a Da Vinci's fangirl so of course, she is a mess around him. At first, she just blushes a lot, stutters a bit around him and she fangirls when he is not around. "Omg I can't believe I witnessed him sketching!!!"

They bond very easily since they both love arts. And Leonardo is very curious about her fashion style, her job, and basically how the world works in modern days -she spent an entire night talking about phones-

One day, he finds her sighing in her room: "what's the problem?". "Ah, nothing, I'm just, not comfortable in Comte's dresses. I'm more into trousers or skirts from my time." He is curious so she tells him about modern day fashion.

"Ah, so women wear pants and shirts. Whatever they want." She nods excitiedly."Yeah, and I hope one day men will be able to do so as well! Wear skirts and dresses and heels. But toxic masculinity is still pretty deep..."

"Wait for me, Cara Mia" and he dashes off the room, to come back later with a stack of shirts and trousers. "Here, take these. They're mine but for now, it will do. Tomorrow, we're going shopping for you."

And they do go shopping the next day, buying loads of men clothes alongside jewels and shoes. Also, they buy fabrics, needles and everything for Annalyne to sew her own clothes. He loves seeing her so happy.

She spends the next days adjusting Leonardo's clothes and the ones they bought to her chubby curves. And Leonardo surprises her by wearing a dress. They go have dinner like this: her in men's clothes, him in women's clothes.

Legend says every resident nearly choked themselves of either shock or laughter. And Leonardo and Annalyne really enjoyed it a lot and decided to do this at least once a week -Leo enjoyed the dress, actually-

The purebloodness revelation:

She catches very early on that he is a pureblood, without him even telling her. She is extra sensitive so she kinda feels auras and saw how Comte and Leonardo's eyes are similar. His genius made even more sense.

"Leonardo. Are you like Comte, a pureblood vampire?" She asked him while they were shopping for fabrics. Leonardo nearly fell out of surprise. "What are you talking about, Cara Mia?" "Well, you know..."

"Same eyes as Comte, genius who can do anything, super strong and intimidating aura. Open-minded as if you've already seen everything, and laziness that can be explained by already having done everything possible..."

He stares at her and then laughs, patting and ruffling her hair. "You're awfully clever and intuitive, Cara Mia. Yes, I am a pureblood. Does it change anything between us? "HELL NO!" she shouts. "But I've got questions!!!"

She drowns him under questions on everything he's done, seen, lived. They spend almost all of their time together, teaching each other about their lives and their knowledge. Residents are jealous of the Leonardo monopoly.

How it "ends" between them:

She is a strong woman and will go back to her time. But she promises Leonardo she will find him, right after returning to her time. He asks her what day it was, when she entered the mansion. "March, 15th, 2020."

When she leaves, while everyone is crying, Leonardo calculates. "Okay, gone for a month in her time, so she'll be in the Louvre in April, 15th, 2020. Ah. My birthday." He smiles. Almost 200 years, but it will be so worth it.

When she passes through the door, she is back in her time. Asking a guide what day it is. "April, 15th, 2020". The day they agreed upon, and Leonardo's birthday. She smiles and then proceeds to rush out of the Louvre to look for him.

But then she passes in front of Saint-Jean-Baptiste. Her favourite painting. A tall and gorgeous man is standing there, in a blue shirt and blue jeans. She feels it. She goes to the man, pats him on the shoulder, and asks: "Leonardo...?"

The man turns around, a huge grin on his face, bright golden eyes shining with love: "Was about time, Cara Mia..." she cries and throws herself at his neck; he spins her, crying as well, burrying his face in her neck.

"I missed you so much. Never do this again. 200 years was worth it but it was too long." She is a mess while crying. "I, I pwomiss Leo, I will neba leaf you again-" he laughs at her messy face. "Look at you, silly girl." He kisses her.

"I want you to see how much I love you in my eyes. They speak on my behalf."

Trivia facts:

She has a tiny water spray bottle she labelled as "Holy Water". Whenever a resident smiles or laughs, she opens it and "collects" their happiness. Thus, when one is talking shit about himself, she sprays the water on them.

"There, you have been blessed with Holy Water. Now love yourself or I agressively hug you." -the mistake on the label,on "thoughts" is intended, as it is is a mix between thots and thoughts, bitch thoughts she's gonna spray away.

She hates Shakespeare, Faust and Vlad. Whenever they pass by the mansion, she grabs the garden hose she labelled "Garden Hoes" and splashes water on them. "Oh no, you walking sin, stay away from my babies!"

She eats A LOT and puts shame on Theo when it comes to eating sweet things. They have pancake-eating competitions -and guess what, she wins-. She will be snacking 24/7 when nervous, anxious, sad and basically under negative emotions.

She listens to every type of music. She really enjoys any kind of rock music, and is also very knowledgeable on classical music. She likes to dance on Kpop and sing on Disney songs: her favourites are definitely I’ll Make A Man Out Of You and Why Should I Worry -in French-

She used to practice martial arts so she can beat the crap out of anyone being a little sh*t with her or her loved ones. She also has a very scary aura when furious, leading to most people just running away from her wrath.

She loves gossiping with Arthur. Whenever she knows about some rumours, or when she needs to talk about something that upset her, she goes to his room with coffee or tea. They both irradiate chaotic gossiping energy when together.

She is the mom friend, and becomes the mom of the mansion. She already told Jean to “get his bottoms in the living room to eat with all of them”, else she was going to kick his butt so hard he would be unable to sit or practice fencing.

All the animals LOVE her. Chérie is missing? She is cuddling with her in the patio. Lumiere is not under the bed? He is sleeping on her laps while she reads. King is nowhere to be found? She is playing with him in the garden. Snow White vibe.

She loves flowers and will put some all over the mansion. She puts one every day in front of every resident’s door, with a message written on a tiny piece of paper, something like: “You are a sweetheart and you deserve the best, keep going, dearie!”

#Ikemen Vampire #IkeVamp #ikevamp oc

59 notes · View notes

artzystarlight · 4 years

Text

((Reposting cause there was something in the drawing I had to fix that was bugging me for a while,,,perfectionist things-))

_____

Preston why?!

Nikki internally cursed while burying her face into her hands, her palms feeling the heat emitting from her cheeks. She felt like she was stuck in one of those trashy TV love dramas that Gwen was INFATUATED with. She could distinctly hear her heartbeat rampant as she began to tremble from embarrassment and fear.

She knew telling Preston was a mistake, but she was desperate! She never had a crush before, especially on Max of all people. He was her best friend and she didn’t even notice she was feeling something NOT platonic until she voiced her feelings out to Nerris and Dolph.

...

“It’s weird...” Nikki wrapped up her rambling as her fingers played with the soft grass beneath her legs. “It feels like the period except worse and this happens only around him! It’s like a bunch of bugs are crawling around in my stomach and maybe even my lungs? My heart is being mauled by a wolf and NOT in a good way.”

Her view was so fixated on the buttons on her overalls that when she finally looked up, she was met with an expression of pure awe and happiness from Dolph, and the biggest smirk that Nerris could wear.

“It sounds like to me that Nikki the brave is harboring romantic feelings for Max the cynical.” Nerris’ voice was dripping with smugness as she turned to look at Dolph waiting for an agreement from him.

“Oh definitely! I am so happy for you Nikki!” Dolph’s eyes were shining and his smile beamed bright.

“Oh jeez...I was hoping it was just a bug I ate...” Nikki felt her cheeks heat up, and it wasn’t from the sun shining down on them. “So what do I do now?! Can I just ignore this and wait for it to die?! That sounds easy.”

“Trust me it’s not. I do know of a person whose intellect in this field ranges far superior to ours...but...” Nerris looked at Nikki with a look of uncertainty now. “He can’t exactly keep quiet about it.”

Dolph immediately knew who Nerris was referring to.

“Preston does know a lot with romantic feelings...but if we tell him, he’s going to go all out with it!” Dolph exclaimed with a bit of concern in his voice. Preston has always been known to blow things out of proportion...

“...why couldn’t it just be a wolf going at my heart? That would have been so much better...”

Nikki sighed as they all reluctantly agreed to go and ask Preston on what to do about the matter. Once they told him, he put every fangirl reading this to shame. He was practically jumping with vigor and spinning around the stage, reciting Nikki’s newfound feelings for Max like poetry. Eventually, Preston calmed down and decided on a way to help Nikki.

“A musical! One about a love story similar to yours! I’ll perform it tonight and as everybody is watching my award winning performance, Max should realize how similar the story is to his relationship with you! It’s the perfect way to encourage that ruffian to confess his undying love for you.” Preston’s pupils almost popped off his face, and Nikki swore she could see stars in them. Nerris and Dolph agreed with Preston, but not without a bit of hesitation.

“Don’t use their real names Preston!” Nerris reminded him of something that should have already been obvious.

“I will help with the backdrop!” Dolph smiled as his fists shook with excitement.

“....fine. As long as you don’t make it obvious...and please don’t go all out...” Nikki gave a light command to Preston.

“Yeah yeah of course! Now all of you off the stage! I have a musical to write!”

....

Needless to say, Preston went all out.

Nikki was brought back to reality, and felt frozen in her spot. She refused to look to her side where of course, the cynical best friend she has feelings for, was standing.

Max has absolutely NO idea how to respond to this.

He felt frozen as well, his eyes fixated on the backdrop with Preston’s singing becoming simple background noise. To say his face was dark red was an understatement, and he knew that he was rivaling the color of David’s hair at that point. His mouth was slightly agape and his pupils became dots, but he didn’t care at all to try and conceal his expression. Why was that?

He was still in shock that Nikki actually liked him back.

And of fucking course, Neil had the exact same revelation as him.

“HOLY SHIT SHE ACTUALLY LIKES YOU BACK?!”

Neil was flabbergasted at that point. Max would constantly rant to Neil on a nightly basis about his confusion regarding the teal-haired girl, and Neil always thought it was one sided. He secretly thought that Nikki was too sweet to like someone like Max, and that she was probably just being nice. That didn’t mean he didn’t want them to get together however, cause he REALLY wanted them to get together. It was frustrating watching them act the way that Gwen and David did except in their own Max and Nikki way.

Neil covered his mouth in regret, realizing that he more or less confessed for Max out loud...in front of everybody.

“NEIL WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Max was sweating like hell underneath his hoodie now, and he felt his heart about to leap out his throat. Meanwhile, Nikki was ready to pass out at this point. All hell broke loose now, and a pandemonium of mixed reactions started.

“Holy shit!”

“I knew it! I fucking knew it!”

“Alright which one of you owes me ten bucks?!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAA-“

“Wow Neil and Preston...confessing their feelings for them? Not cool.” Ered looked at the both of them in disapproval, although she was secretly content that the feelings finally got out into the open.

“Dolph! I thought we agreed to keep their identities secret! Why did you draw them like that on the backdrop!” Nerris questioned Dolph in bewilderment, Dolph responding with nothing more than “Preston ordered me to!”

“The love they have for each other almost rivals the magic I perform! Only almost.” Harrison pulled out his hat and allowed a mixture of doves and butterflies to take to the sky.

“Damn I really thought Max would tell her himself...not Neil.” Nurf mumbled to himself as he reluctantly handed ten dollars over to none other than their female counselor.

“Gwen! Making bets with the campers is very unprofessional, especially during a heartwarming moment like this!” David wiped the tears of joy from his eyes as Gwen placed the crumpled paper into her pocket. “I should probably stop this.”

“Don’t even try it David!” Gwen was brainstorming countless fanfic ideas at this point, and if there was a bigger fangirl than Preston, it was definitely her. “I missed the series premiere of the newest Bachelor, and this was completely worth it!”

“Oh my stars...look at them! They look like they’re about to pass out!” Space Kid smiled in innocence, merely pointing at the newly proclaimed couple.

Max and Nikki finally looked to their sides, and locked eyes.

In a matter of seconds, Nikki did just what Space Kid said, cause the next thing she knew was that she woke up in the middle of the night in her cot.

And she was wearing Max’s hoodie?

__________

And y e s this was based of T H A T ICONIC SVTFOE moment-

190 notes · View notes

browneyedhimbo · 4 years

Text

Bet

Pairing: Sam x fem!reader

Summary: The team decides to make a pool of when you and Sam get together, completely unknowing of the fact you already are. Both of you come up with a plan to tease the hell out of them.

Prompts: 3. “Apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.” and 13. “You couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.”

Warnings: language, alcohol, sam trying 40’s talk, fluff

Word Count: 1.4k

A/N: This is my entry for my bro Laura’s 200 writing challenge (@justmebeingtheweirdmeiam) Congrats on reaching 200 bro!! You deserve that and more! Also beware possible grammar errors. Hope you enjoy!

Stark parties were, in your opinion, entertaining. It wasn’t the talking or the different stories you’d hear nor was it the music or drinking. It was because the guys would dress up with slacks and button ups and try to have a low key flex off. It was stupid yet highly amusing.

“Look at those idiots.” Natasha shook her head, making drinks behind the bar for you, her, and Wanda.

“Total goofs,” Wanda chuckled, turning around to see what they were doing now.

“Complete and utter fools.” You agreed, also turning to give them a glance. You sighed and shook your head as you saw Thor and Steve pointing in different directions trying to show off. Your eyes met a certain pair of soft chocolate brown ones, a small smile appeared on your lips and you turned your head back to face the bar, a shy blush slowly creeping up your cheeks.

“Hey,” you heard his soft voice call out next to you.

“Hey yourself,” you smiled looking up at him.

“What’s a nice girl like you doin at a place like this?” He smiled bashfully, eyes dancing with excitement.

“Well, if you’d like to know, fella don up and left without another word. Gone without a single goodbye.” You faked a small frown, laughter bubbling inside you.

“Oof doll I’m sorry. Where’s this fella at so I can give 'em a talkin' to?” His voice may have sounded stern but his face held pure amusement and joy. You couldn’t hold the act much longer.

“You know something bird brain,” you giggled, “You’re getting pretty good at that. Bucky must be a good teacher.” You winked at him causing him to roll his eyes playfully. You held each other’s gazes for what felt like forever, smiles toying on the ends of your lips. All of a sudden your favorite song comes on and your face lights up.

“Wanna dance?” Sam offered his hand to which you happily accepted. You took a sip of your drink before hopping off the stool and walking hand in hand to the dance floor with him, completely unaware of the goofy evil grins that rose upon Natasha and Wanda’s faces.

The moment your feet hit the dance floor, Sam had a strong grip on you, leading the dance. You didn’t mind, you’ve done it multiple times. Not that the team knew.

“Hey baby girl.” Sam whispered in your ear, goosebumps prickled your skin and a shiver ran down your spin. Another goofy smile appeared on your lips.

“Hey handsome,” you whispered back. No one knew of your secret relationship. You had started dating about a month ago after a mission. Sam almost got knocked out of the sky and it was then you realized your feelings for him were more than just platonic. The moment you got back you two talked about what happened and simultaneously admitted your feelings.

“Wanna hear somethin’ funny?” He had that gleeful smirk in place and it took everything in you to not kiss him right there.

“Always,” you nodded as he led you into a spin.

“So I overheard Steve talking with Bucky in the bathroom,” you griminced a bit and Sam chuckled at your reaction. “It was something about dates and money. I heard our names being tossed around a couple times. I put two and two together and apparently all our friends have a bet going that we end up together.”

Your jaw dropped slightly, a scoff leaving your lips. You shook your head in disbelief, not wanting to believe that was true. But they would do something like that. The more you pondered over it the more it made you laugh. Especially since you were already dating.

“Well then,” you chuckled, shaking your head again. They were literal children.

“Right?” He laughed along with you. “I have an idea though.” His eyes were full of mischief and it had you drawing closer to him.

“What’s that?”

“Flirt extra hard, kiss, say we’ve been dating for a month, steal the winners money.”

“I like that plan,” you nodded slightly. Wicked smiles plastered to both your faces as you parted ways, waiting for the party to die out to be left alone with the team.

-------→

“No no, you’re wrong!” Sam said defensively, chuckling along with the others.

“No I’m not! Look here, bird for brain.” Tony said, getting closer to Sam. “DUM-E is better than Redwing. And those are facts.”

“Incorrect facts!” Sam pouted, crossing his arms.

“No they’re not! Take it from a genius.” Tony cocked his head to the side, pride and cockiness just oozing out with hints of alcohol. You shook your head from your position on the sofa, laughing at them.

“How many times have you argued about this already?” Natasha asked with a sigh, clearly done with this topic.

“A lot. And still counting,” Tony smiled, stuffing a hand in his pocket and picking up his drink.

“Yea. I’m pretty sure it was simple to build it anyway.” Sam retorted, knowing it would irk the genius.

“Oh really? That’s what you think?” Tony nodded solemnly, quirking an eyebrow. “Hey Y/N/N, penny for your thoughts?”

“Don’t bring me into this Stark.” You threatened. You looked to Sam and he gave you a slight wink.

“Yeah Tony, just let her be.”

“Cause you couldn’t handle her right?” Tony laughed, quickly muttering ‘I’m jokings’ while grabbing Sam’s shoulders, bringing him into a half hug.

“Oh I’m sure I could,” Sam gave you a flirtatious wink and blew a kiss, to which you giggled and covered your face with your drink, hiding the blush that threatened to show.

“Sammy, you couldn’t handle me even if I came with instructions.” The guys oohed and the girls chuckled. You bit your bottom lip and winked back at Sam, causing him to smirk.

“Wanna bet baby girl?” He strode to where you sat on the sofa, hands landing on either side of the headrest, arms encasing you. Gradually, he leans down and captures your lips with his in a slow sensual kiss. You part for air and lock eyes, feeling everyone gaze on the two of you.

His breath fans your face as you’re still only a few inches apart. A small smile dances on his lips as he leans down for another kiss. Your hands travel to his neck, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss. This time when you break, he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, a glint of heat and mischief shining in his eyes. He stands up fully and smooths down his grey button up, clearing his throat with a smirk.

“What?” Tony voiced everyone’s reaction. They were slack jawed with their eyes blown wide. You and Sam shared a look, chuckling at how no one had expected that.

“So who had today’s date?” You asked looking at everyone. They all had their brows creased, still trying to figure out how and why.

“Uh, Bucky did. I think.” Steve said eyeing Sam. “Wait how did-”

“Pay up!” Bucky cheered, extending his hand out. Grumbles and protests soon filled the room as they started handing bills to the metal armed man.

“Nu uh,” Sam shook his head. “Best give half to us.” Buck scoffed but when he saw Sam wasn’t playing he turned to you.

“I’m with Sammy on this one. If it weren’t for us you wouldn’t have that money anyways.” You crossed your arms, standing next to Sam. Bucky sighed, while counting half off to split. He sighed as he extended your share.

“Thank you,” you smiled as you grabbed the money. A scoff and chuckle could be heard and you looked up to see Natasha shaking her head.

“I don’t know how I missed it.” She chided to herself. “How long?” Your smile widened and you looked up at Sam to see him with the same look plastered on his face. Everyone else stared at the three of you in confusion.

“A month and three days tomorrow.” Sam said, intertwining your fingers. You leaned your head on his shoulder as the noise in the room escalated. ‘Unbelievables’ and ‘seriouslys’ were mumbled as well as congratulations.

You smiled to yourself looking up at the man who held your heart. He looked down, a goofy grin on his face. Pressing a kiss to your temple, Sam played with your fingers. He could finally show you were his, and he was yours.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Permanent tags: @becausewhyknotme @disasterbuckley @imma-new-soul @justmebeingtheweirdmeiam @officialtonystarkprotectionsquad @theladyoffangorn @itsunclebucky @mushyjellybeans @damnyoudameron @agentpeggybarnes @fangirl-introvert @ninjabucky @cosmicbucky @yougottakeeponkeepinon @this-kitten-is-smitten

Sam Wilson tags: (don’t have one for him yet) (tagging who may be interested) @thorfanficwriter @sebbbystaaan @stuckonjbbarnes

#laura200 #sam wilson x reader #sam x reader #sam wilson #falcon #falcon x reader #sam wilson x you #sam wilson x y/n #sam x you #sam x y/n #sam wilson fanfiction #sam wilson fluff

117 notes · View notes

keeponshouting · 3 years

Text

After Infection

Chapter 2 of my original character massive multiverse mash-up. ...only like four people are reading this but whatever.

After Infection: Chopping Mall

“My name’s Shannon,” she says as they all sprawl about in the middle of a department store’s ransacked home furnishings section. “I’m a daycare worker and lifeguard. I—I saw one of those things run straight into the pool. He just…tackled the other lifeguard and—and dove right in. God, it was—it was terrible! Everything was—I—I just got in my car and started driving and my boyfriend… My boyfriend worked here so I came looking for him. He—he wasn’t here but the parking lot was a mad house! Someone hit my car and drove off and I was just—” She takes a deep breath and forces a shaky smile back into place. “Eric saw me stranded and let me in.”

“I’m Eric.” One of the security guards takes the mention of his name as a good segue into his own introduction. “Me and Jamie were on duty when everything just…went nuts.” The other guard raises his hand in a wave but says nothing. “There, um, used to be four of us but… Well, some of those things got in before we locked down.” His grimace says it all. “We’ve run into a few since then but only on the first floor so we mainly stay up here unless we need to make supply runs and no one goes down there alone.” He laughs, though it comes out hollow. “I was supposed to be going off shift, y’know? Then people started attacking each other in the parking lot and…” He shrugs.

The other girl who had been waiting inside clears her throat, anxiously tugging at the photo ID around her neck. “I, uh, I’m—” She clears her throat again and sits up straight. “Jo. I’m Jo. I was on a manager shift at—Well, I guess it doesn’t matter where I worked anymore, huh? Um. We were supposed to have a meeting last night – new stock and all that – but everybody’s always tired of eating at the food court so I just let them all go out and get dinner from this place across the street and then they’re supposed to come back and…” Her hand closes into a fist around her lanyard. “N-nobody came back. I had my headphones on when I heard a gun go off somewhere and Scott – he was one of the other guards – he came in and told me to get upstairs. There was—there was blood fucking—it was everywhere! Blood and—”

Shannon places a hand on Jo’s shoulder.

Someone else clears their throat and a low, slightly uncertain voice pipes up. “Uh, hi. My name’s Dennis and I’m a zombie survivor?” There is a small ripple of laughter and that seems to bolster his confidence a bit as he stretches out his absurdly long legs for a moment, then folds them loosely in front of himself as he leans back against his boyfriend’s knees and smiles. “So, yeah, I’m Dennis and this is Nate. We, uh… We were in town to, uh…” That seems to be where his confidence wavers again, though, and he leans his head back to look up at Nate.

Nate sighs and gives a small wave, taking stock of the group of people around him. His smile looks far more preoccupied than the one Dennis had to offer. “We were visiting some friends in the area. Planned on going out to do some hunting.” He points to the shotgun leaned up against the arm of his chair as evidence. “That went about how you might expect.”

The next speaker looks almost as nervous as Dennis at first but a deep breath seems to change his demeanor entirely, leaving him with an easy smile and a new air of confidence. “I’m Alex.” That confidence is put to the test as he glances down at the flakes of dried blood and god alone knows what else left on his palms. It leaves his face a little paler when he looks back up again and he distracts himself by introducing his friends instead of delving into their situation. “This is Val…Macy…Sasha…Nick. The dog’s Parker. We’re—”

“5 Year Mentality!” Her anxiety forgotten, Jo sits forward, eyes wide and excited. “Oh my god! I knew you looked familiar. Alex Niccols. Holy shit. I was supposed to go to your concert tomorrow.”

Val grunts, lip turning upward in a not at all subtle scowl. “Great. End of the world and we’re still stuck with a fucking fangirl.”

Jo’s face goes red and Alex sighs, confidence dissolving nearly as quickly as it had appeared. “Uh, yeah. We’re on tour. Well, we were anyway. Our driver stopped to help somebody on the side of the road and…yeah.”

“So, uh,” Dennis seems to have either regained his own courage or decided that helping Alex regain his is just more important and leans forward with a faint grin. “You usually tour with a vintage T-bird in tow?”

Alex actually laughs and grins right back. “Figured the guy who bought it wasn’t gonna be using it any time soon. If I’m gonna die anyway—” He shrugs. “—might as well drive to hell in style, right?”

Most of their circle laughs as well, taking any chance they can to relax for however short a time, and as soon as they go quiet again there is a little squeak and “I’m Amanda! I’m five!” Which gets all those who laughed before to do so again and finally draws attention to the last unwitting member of their little village.

Nate is the one who finally leans forward, perfectly nonchalant as he drapes his arms down over Dennis’s chest and yet… “Your turn, draugs.”

The man now holding everyone’s attention leans back into his chair, eyebrows raised as he takes a lazy drag off of his cigarette, ignoring everyone else in favor of studying the young man who seems to be so intent upon studying him. “Viktor.”

There is an uneasy shift among the others and Nate narrows his eyes for a moment before nodding. “Pleasure to meet you, Viktor. Just out of curiosity, since I couldn’t help but notice that you’re packing pretty heavy and you’ve got – what? – a sniper set up somewhere out there?” Around them, everyone else shares a few wary glances. Dennis sighs and mutters something in Nate’s ear but his words are ignored. “So, what exactly is it that you do for a living?”

Viktor takes another drag and leans forward, blowing a long stream of smoke out of the corner of his mouth as he plasters on a perfectly placid smile. “Former FBI, current investigative specialist. Federal reserve.” He shrugs. “My partner just happens to be manning the military surplus shop across the lot. Hell of a shot, ne?”

It is silent for a full minute, everyone just watching the two men stare at one another before Shannon sits up, her voice cracking just slightly as she suggests that they start making plans for the best way to make sure everyone is comfortable for the night.

---

“Any bright ideas, bossman?”

Viktor scowls and knocks cigarette ash over the sea of undead below as he looks toward the distant rooftop where he knows his partner to have set up camp. “Aside from shooting the perky daycare woman who won’t let me smoke in peace? Ne.”

There is a snort on the other end of the line. “Patience, ’mano. Not your strong suit with people, I know, but a good thing to have. Necessary even.”

“Sklapni. I’m not threatening to shoot the five year old. What more do you want?”

Everything goes quiet for a moment aside from the groaning and howling of the jostling horde and then, “Five year old?”

With a grunt, Viktor takes a seat on the edge of the roof and flicks the smoldering butt of his cigarette into the crowd. “Ano. Yes. My army consists of a daycare worker, a store manager, two security guards, a couple of hunters, a bunch of rockstars, and a five year old.” He pauses for a moment before adding, “And a dog.”

Miguel sounds distracted as he laughs in his ear. “And the only one you get along with es el perro.”

“Pretty much.”

“How did I know?”

“Hn.”

Another cigarette flashes into life on either side of the plaza and there is another quiet moment.

“Just try to play nice over there, sí?”

“Define nice.”

Viktor can almost hear the roll of the other man’s eyes and that, at least, puts a genuine smile on his face.

---

“So, uh, we got a plan yet?”

Nate frowns, glancing up toward Dennis’s place at the door to the main store before returning to rummaging through the rear of the hatchback. When the group as a whole had decided that they might as well just hold tight in the mall for a while, what with how many undead currently had them surrounded, Dennis had suggested that the two of them should probably head back down and see what sort of useful supplies they could believably scrounge up while maintaining the cover of a plain old hunting trip. Eric and that band kid, Alex, had come down with them but they had since headed back upstairs with a bunch of luggage that had been left in the T-bird upon first arrival. It is painfully quiet, aside from the muffled groans emanating from the zombie horde outside and the intermittent noises of the ventilation system kicking in and out and that obviously has Dennis on edge. To be fair, it has Nate pretty twitchy, too. Occasionally the garage door rattles but whatever Alex had done to the gears earlier is thus far doing an extremely impressive job of keeping any creeping fingers from wiggling their way underneath. Unless the zombies managed to full-out bust their way through, that door is going absolutely nowhere.

“The way I see it,” Nate says, “we don’t actually have a lot of options. In fact, all we’ve got right now is the knowledge that we’re relatively well-armed and stocked on food. Twelve people and a dog could probably live in here for a month or two without any trouble.”

There is a pause before Dennis takes a deep breath and blurts out, “What about Viktor’s partner?”

That makes Nate stop and he slowly raises his head to peer over at Dennis again, finding his eyes met and locked. “What about him?”

Dennis furrows his brow. “We’re supposed to help people, right? Protect them from—I mean, this kind of thing would—Zombies are in the bestiary so…”

“Yes.” With a sigh, Nate moves out from behind the car and leans his shoulder into passenger side instead, arms crossed over his chest. “Yes, zombies are in the bestiary and yes, we are supposed to help people and okay, fine, that includes the secretive asshole and his sniper, despite the fact that I am absolutely certain that both of them can pretty obviously take care of themselves and—” He holds up a hand to hush whatever is about to come out of Dennis’s mouth next. “—yes, I am aware that we should be grateful for his sniper’s help. We’d have had a hell of a time getting in here without him. Satisfied?”

There is a pause, Dennis pressing his lips together in thought, then he offers a sheepish smile and shrugs. “Yeah. I guess so.”

“Any other questions? Things you want to tell me off for?”

“Actually, yeah, question. Am I allowed to play with Amanda or would that be considered befriending your enemy by association?”

Nate throws his hands up and just goes right back around to finish resorting their supplies for easy transport. “He’s not my enemy, you dope, he’s just keeping secrets and I don’t like it. Besides, I know what everyone else is thinking and I’m not convinced that Amanda’s actually his but…”

Dennis grins and comes over to join him, bending his knees and stooping to bridge the height gap between them as he kisses Nate on the cheek. “She sure does seem attached to him, though, huh?”

“Stop trying to throw your back out, you fucking giant.” Nate gives him a proper kiss, then shoves a bag of camping gear into his chest to hide his own smile. “Now let’s get out of here. This place is giving me the creeps.”

---

“So here’s the deal,” Eric had said the moment that they were all gathered again. “This is the best furniture department in the mall so I’m making the executive decision that we stay put. We’ve only got three storefronts between here and the nearest restrooms but I’d still rather we didn’t let anybody go alone or unarmed just in case. We’ll take turns keeping watch overnight because I don’t know about the rest of you but that’ll definitely help me sleep easier. Anybody needs PJs or just some clean clothes—” He makes a point of looking toward Alex with only a quick glance toward Viktor. “—I can open up pretty much any store you want. Not like anybody’s asset management is going to come yelling at me any time soon. Just stick to the second floor. Agreed?”

Half an hour later, they are all down to the varying levels of undress in which they intend to sleep and are discussing the logistics of who is going to sleep where. Well, most of them are, anyway. Some people have simply taken up residence in their own selected spots and silently informed everyone else to fuck off. Luckily, Viktor’s selected spot happens to be on the furthest sofa away from pretty much everyone else. Meanwhile, the band kids have pulled a futon off of its display and tucked it in behind the nearby help desk with an assortment of pillows and blankets piled up around it like an extremely compact sleepover and Shannon and Jo have moved a few curtain display units to create their own little room. Nate and Dennis find things a little more difficult and have to hunt for a display mattress that isn’t going to completely kill Dennis’s back, a task which no one else seems to have realized would be such a feat until the giant finally stood at his full 7-foot height in front of everyone to help retrieve some bedding from a higher shelf. Even Viktor had looked a bit shocked by that.

By the time the main lights cut out, everything seems to be just about settled, and Eric does one last lap of the group before dropping a couple of blankets into the recliners that he and Jamie had selected. “We all good? I can dim the security lights a little if they’re bugging anybody too much. Want make sure everybody gets some sleep.” His words, however, draw very little attention as there is a much more pressing matter in need of attending just beyond the next display.

“Amanda, honey?” Shannon is crouched down by the little girl who is currently curled up on the floor, clinging to Parker and using the dog’s broad back as a pillow. Not far away, Dennis and Nate share a quick glance, one worried and the other significantly more frustrated.

“Amanda,” Shannon says again, still receiving no response. “Do you want to come sleep with me, maybe? Jo and I have our own little space. It can be just us girls. What do you say?”

The five year old just bites her lip and curls up a little bit tighter.

“She can keep Parker out there if she wants,” Alex quietly offers. “He’d get too hot over here anyway.”

After another moment, Macy gets up and pads out with one of their blankets and an extra pillow for the little girl even as Shannon keeps trying. “Amanda. Come on, baby. You can have your own bed and everything. We’ll make it up nice and soft and—”

The exasperated grunt that finally makes her stop causes everyone to jump and though most of them are unable to really see him from where they sit, Viktor’s one arm rises just barely into everyone’s view. “Jdeš sem, holčička.” His hand motions her over somewhat roughly. “Come here.”

Still biting her lip, Amanda slowly sits up but only hesitates until he finally opens one eye and turns his head to face her, brow arched with an irritable, “Well?” Then she hops to her feet and scurries over to curl up on the man’s chest. He simply ignores their audience, tosses part of his blanket over her, and closes his eyes once again.

---

The first morning comes and goes in a general whirl of coffee and the occasional cigarette, breakfast provided courtesy of Shannon and the nearest break room, until they all hear a whole lot of noise coming from somewhere downstairs and everything immediately goes quiet amongst them. It only takes a few minutes of hushed discussion for them to decide that the security guards and hunters will run recon and see if they can find the source. They return almost as quickly with the news that some of animals have escaped from the pet store and are now wandering freely about the first floor. This, of course, begs the question of how that might have happened and leads to the subsequent decision that they are going to have to do another sweep of the lower level in the very near future.

“So…” Alex watches as Macy and Amanda play with a box of kittens that Dennis had collected from the shop’s window, the little furballs happily climbing all over the ever patient Parker. “In all likelihood, there’s at least one more of those things still down there.”

“That’s all we can figure,” Eric agrees with a shrug. “By the time we got to the pet shop, it wasn’t there anymore but I can’t really think of any other explanation.”

Nate nods. “Half of the cages were on the floor. Even if the animals just got spooked by something, there’s the matter of what could have scared them.”

Val is the one who finally gets tired of the ensuing silence and leans forward to place her elbows on the table with a pointed thunk. “So, boys and girls, are we hunting this bitch down or what?”

---

The mall is basically shaped like an X and it only makes sense that they divide up into four hunting parties. Eric and Jamie stick together to cover the wing with the food court so they can be sure to check all of the nooks and crannies but the rest of the teams are divided with weapons proficiency in mind. Nate and Val take one hall, Dennis and Jo take another, and Alex finds himself headed down the last one with Viktor. It takes a great deal of arguing with a very panicked little girl to get that last one to fly, though.

“We don’t know which way it would’ve gone,” Eric had told them, “so watch your back.”

Val had checked her gun and flashed Viktor a glare at that, adding a simple, “And your partner’s.”

Aside from the occasional shop still playing its music mix through the in-store speakers, however, and a video place with ads still looping on their front display, their slow walk down hall four is proving to be surprisingly quiet. Watching some random anime character run across an absurdly oversized tv screen, Alex figures that the silence is really what creeps him out the most. He feels pretty safe assuming that the others are at least talking to their partners enough to strategize but his companion? Yeah, not so much. At least he can be sure that Viktor, of all people, is going to completely ignore the sight of the four-by-six-foot poster of his face plastered to the inside of some alt shop’s front window, signs around it displaying a countdown to a concert that will never happen. Anyone else and there might have been some sort of comment but no. With Viktor, he gets absolutely nothing. Just keep on walking and get the job done. For that much, Alex is pretty damn grateful.

Contrast to the eerie silence, the crash of a sign falling somewhere down an exit corridor is nearly enough to make him piss himself. “Fuck.” His voice cracks in a tremendously unflattering fashion. “Please just be a puppy or something.”

Viktor actually snorts at that as he returns from checking the entrance space to the nearest restrooms. He still says nothing, just brings his gun to the ready and starts toward the source of the sound. Alex takes a deep breath before following close behind, then has to literally bite his tongue to stop himself from swearing when he jumps at the sound of something running into the doors on the other side of a massive fountain and welcome sign. It is definitely not a puppy.

“I take left,” Viktor instructs, voice low and eyes focused on whatever lie ahead.

Well, shit. Alex takes a deep, steadying breath, and carefully creeps off to the right. He barely has to round his side of the fountain to see it.

What looks like it was once a janitor is there at the locked door, smearing blood all over the class as it claws at its own reflection. On the left, Viktor whistles to get the thing’s attention. To the right, Alex’s heart just about stops when it turns toward him instead. Luckily, it hits the ground with a hole in its head before it even gets close enough for him to properly smell.

“Well,” Viktor mutters, “that was a bit too—Duck.”

“Huh?”

The shriek behind him is more than enough to help Alex process the order, though, and he dives out of the way at almost the exact same time as a bullet whizzes past, not nearly far enough from where his head had just been for his liking. It leaves the second janitor sprawled in a double-dead bloody mess on top of him and he finally lets the curses he had been holding back burst right out.

Like some sort of terrible chain reaction, you shoot one and the sound draws the attention of another. A good dozen or so are banging on the outside doors now with another wave coming up behind them and when he looks back—“Behind you!”

A few trips to the shooting range with his grandfather had shown Alex early on that his aim was shit under pressure which is just another reason why he appreciates being paired up with the big, mean, Federal agent. All that Alex has to manage is a single shot that does enough to slow the attack and then it feels kind of like watching a high-end action film in real life. Viktor spins with the warning barely out of Alex’s mouth and has his hand perfectly positioned to catch the creature by the throat as it loses its balance mid-lunge. The weight and momentum are enough to knock Viktor’s feet out from under him, sure, but he keeps his hold, hand locked tight under the joint of the jaw, even as they both crash into the fountain’s pool. Not two seconds later, his pistol is still pointed at where the monster’s right eye had once been and the entrance hall is splattered with… Well, Alex would really rather not think about it.

That silence comes in again, everything gone deathly still aside from the splashing of the water and the rattling of the undead at the doors, and then Alex’s voice cracks again. “What the fuck do you pack, man?”

Viktor tosses the corpse aside and spits a wad of red and grey as he climbs back out onto dry land. “Glock 20C. 10 mm Auto. Good for hunting deer.”

“Fuck.”

“Hm.” There is a pause as the man looks himself over and grimaces before spitting again and mutter more to himself than to current company, “Well, here’s hoping the infection requires them to swallow bits of you.”

Alex simply stares up at him, slack-jawed, from his place on the floor until Viktor arches a brow. “Co?” “You—” Alex blinks, splutters. “Dude. You have a sense of humor.”

Viktor huffs and the sound very nearly sounds like a laugh. “Lose your new sweetheart and let’s finish this job.” Another blink, a look of confusion, and then Alex slowly turns his head to all but shriek as the dead janitor’s face falls a little closer to his own.

---

There is a low whistle over the line as Viktor pulls a chair up to the edge of the roof. “Mierda, ’mano. What happened to you?”

So begins an excellent afternoon, much as zombie hunting had begun such an excellent morning.

“We need a plan before I shoot something living,” Viktor states some time later as he levels his sights on another target. “The zatracený daycare girl is still trying my patience and at least one other person in here would be more than happy to see the store manager gone.” He fires. “If we don’t get out of here soon…”

“Just don’t forget me once you get out, sí?”

Viktor snorts. “What do you think I’m going to do, just leave you on the roof with your rifle and drive off into the sunset with a bunch of people I can’t even stand?”

“Watch the sarcasm, ’mano. I might be tempted.”

Looking up, Viktor smirks directly into the rifle’s sights. “Go ahead. Most people in here would likely be relieved.”

There’s a tsk-ing noise and he can see the weapon being lowered on the other rooftop. “No fun if you make it easy.”

#otto writes #writing: after infection #writing #original characters

2 notes · View notes

sp00ks-odyssey · 4 years

Text

*deep breaths* okay i got this

I’m gonna post the first one here It’s a self ship of me In real life and Ink Sans....umm...I might draw something for one of the days but I can’t really draw well right now so I’m just writing it into a little story....I might just make the whole thing into a book but I don’t use AO3 I use Quotev and Wattpad so I don’t know how that will work....I also don’t do NSFW stuff cause that’s gross to me I am sorry if it turns out bad....

Also umm trigger warning for the depressed, insecure people this will have insecure thoughts, artists hating their work and will be kinda depressing

....*sigh* okay here we go......

_______________________________________________________________

I threw the pencil down in frustration sighing as I leaned back on my bed,

“I can't make this right!!”

I looked down at the drawing I was trying to make and cringed at how uneven it looked: A drawing of Blueberry/Underswap Sans and his brother in front of their house in Snowdin town but I couldn't get it right, at this point I forgot how many attempts I’ve done.

“Look at this! The skull is uneven! Blue is too tilted and I can't get Papyrus' shorts right!”

I glared at the drawing a few more times before crumpling the paper and throwing it on the floor where a growing pile of failed drawings lay, I stood up stretching my legs popping from the lack of use.

“I think I should take a break from this” I left my small messy room that I was sharing with my little sister tripping on the mess of toys a little and went down the hallway, I opened the fridge to get my water bottle for a drink of water.

My parents left to go see my grandparents who lived far away from us and took my little sister and little brother with them saying they wouldn’t be back until much much later, I stayed home: My excuse was that I was sick and I had a headache so now I was able to be alone for a while and calm down after a fight I had with my Mom that morning.

I glared at the ceiling remembering my terrible drawings and the fight I had with my Mom while chugging my water bottle at the same time before putting the water bottle back in the fridge, I wiped my mouth and walked back down the hallway to my room where my laptop was sitting on a stool with the picture I was trying to draw on the screen, I glared at the screen still standing in my doorway.

“I still can't get this picture right, *sigh* maybe I should just give up and try a different drawing” I sat down on my bed and clicked out of the picture and started looking for Ink Sans drawings while blushing a little:

[I have a crush on this character and I really need to snap out of it and accept that he ain’t real and wouldn’t choose me if he was]

“Hmmmm, maybe I could try drawing Ink in his new design! I love his new design it's handsome and adorable on him! I just need to learn how to draw skeleton feet and-” I started muttering to myself not even understanding the words I was saying and scrolling through pictures.

A loud crash on my roof startled me and I shrieked making my usual inhuman noise similar to a dog whimper and a puppy whine jumping up and knocking over my charger plug that my laptop was plugged to, doing that caused my laptop to power off and I groaned.

“Awwwww man! That's the only way I can use this computer! Keep it plugged in and I just unplugged i- AARRGGGHHH!! Now I gotta replug it in and start it back up and it's gonna be slow and annoying and I just got a good picture to try and draw!!”

I groaned forgetting the loud thump I heard and sat back down plugging in my laptop and turning it on watching it slowly start to turn on glaring at it and muttering, a knock on the back door startled me and I jumped up unplugging my laptop, I groaned loudly glaring at my laptop that now had a black screen again.

“You know what!? I'm just gonna quit, COMING!!” I picked up my laptop and closed it putting it away and put the stool away as well before tripping over the cord and toys all over the floor to reach the backdoor, I opened it putting my hand over my eyes to prevent the sunlight from blinding me and looked up to see.......wait...... how-

“I'm so sorry human! I was fighting with some bad skeletons with my friends Blue and Dream and I suddenly fell into a portal and landed here and ummmm..... I wanted to know who owned the house I fell on and say-”

He stopped and looked at his scarf and blinked his eye sockets changing colors and shapes each time he blinked before he looked back up and shook his white skull.

“Hi! I'm Ink Sans but just call me Ink, I wanted to know, uhhhh.....” He looked down at his scarf sticking out his rainbow tongue and squinting trying to read the small black words in the blinding sunlight before looking up,

“What AU is this?” He asked tilting his head,

I stared at him my jaw opened as I blinked in complete shock my mind racing:

Oh my Stars it's Ink! How is he here? I thought he wasn't real? How did he come here of all places? This is really cliché to be honest, holy crow he is actually taller than me! He is literally taller than me! I'm right up to maybe his knee or hip or pelvis bone what is that called again? How tall does that make the other Sanses'? Does that mean Blue is taller than humans too? This is awesome!!...I forgot what I was talking about but holy stars he's tall and here on my doorstep, I don't want to seem like a fangirl and start squealing but EEEE! he is literally in front of me and- Oh no! This world-well...the town I’m in isn't gonna be very kind and welcoming to him what do I do? what do I-

“Ummmmm Human??” Ink said snapping me out of my thoughts and waved one of his gloved hands in front of me. I blinked shaking my head and looked around the backyard before pulling him in quickly and shutting the back door rushing him to my room and shutting the door and locking it.

“Ummm Human? Why are we in here? What is here?? Is this a bedroom?”

I peeked out each of the windows closing all the blankets that were used for my window's curtains while he stood in the middle of my room watching me, after I checked all of the windows and closed them all I looked at him fearfully.

“No one saw you falling onto the roof and knocking on my door did they?”

He blinked looking at me confused, “Uhhh not that I know of, why?”

I carefully walked around the mess in my room before sitting on my bed and picking up my phone and reading my parent's messages again re-reading the time they were gonna be home:

Ok my parents come home at 6:45 pm it's only 1:00pm.

I put down my phone and looked at him, he was still standing and staring at me with his confused look.

“This isn't an AU Ink-” I started waiting for him to process that small part of information before I told him the rest, he tilted his head looking around confused but observing his surroundings and I kept quiet letting him get used to what he was seeing: He looks so adorable!

I looked down and noticed he was actually barefoot like the new design showed and I took a minute to notice what it looked like so I could try to draw it later. Both of his feet was covered in brown stocking-like clothing and went up his legs, only his heel and toes showed through them, looking farther up his baggy white shirt was tucked underneath his brown overalls which went down his legs like big baggy pants and the bluish greenish overall sleeves were hooked and showing a little behind him as he looked around, his oversized brush I knew he called Broomie was attached to his back by a grey-ish looking sash that held colorful heart shaped veils of every color of the rainbow in the front of it in their own little cubbies and two pencils were attached in the front as well, his small brown top with yellow sides that went over his white shirt lifted up a little when he lifted up one of his arms to scratch the back of his skull confused still observing his surroundings, his sleeves were brown and then white and then showed his grey patterned bones and brown gloved hands with all of his bony fingers showing except his pinkie finger which was the color of a greenish blue all the way down making his glove look half brown half greenish blue, his long and large brown scarf trailed behind him not even touching the ground: I hid my head in my oversized black hoodie blushing before he looked back at me again.

“Then where am I?” he finally asked, I got up hoping he didn’t see me hiding and blushing and pointed to one of the windows to the outside world.

“You are in the real world, the world where Undertale is just a game created by a creator named Toby Fox. In this world all the Aus are created in someone’s mind, made and drawn by them and told by others and then it gets bigger with all of the fandom’s ideas and theories and art”

His eye sockets widened at this, he suddenly made a small noise and barfed black ink, I backed up a little as he wiped his mouth and grabbed my shoulders both of his eye sockets different colored stars as he literally shook me to death.

“ARE YOU SERIOUS!?!? I'M IN THE WORLD OF CREATORS!!?? THERE ARE CREATORS HERE!?!!”

I nodded turning a little red at his closeness, he was practically in my face yes he was shouting but this is Ink we are talking about I cleared my throat trying to not look obvious.

“Uhhh....y-y-y-yeah...your in the world of creators......but that means-” I didn't get to finish cause he let go of my shoulders and backed up making the noise again and barfing more black ink on the floor, I watched in defeat as my floor and my pile of failed drawings got coated in black ink.

“OH NO!!!!” I shouted suddenly remembering something, my shouting caused him to blink at me confused as he wiped his mouth again looking embarrassed and guilty blushing rainbow.

“No what?” he asked quietly,

“How am I gonna clean this up? My parents are gonna kill me when they get home!” I started pacing in my spot away from the ink vomit and started muttering,

“They are gonna be so angry and I can't lie about it what do I even say? My mom isn’t really happy with me either so she will use this as an excuse to get me yelled at by my step-dad. There is no way to clean that up! What do I-" I stopped my pacing looking over to see the spot gone and Ink grinning.

“All clean! You are welcome!” He said proudly putting Broomie back where it was before and crossing his arms grinning as I looked at the floor with a confused look.

“Never seen magic before human?” He asked as I looked up at him with a shocked face.

“Ummmm.....No? Well only i-i-in movies and....” I started stuttering and speaking nonsense as he chuckled before sitting on my bed and looked up at me suddenly with a serious face and a blank look which cut me off and I flinched at his stare feeling like I did something wrong.

“So what else is here besides creators?” He asked in a serious tone still staring at me, I noticed his eyes were grey.

I stuttered and sat down on my little sister's bed trying to focus, "Ummm....I d-d-d-don't know?? Didn’t I already answer th-th-that?? I-I-I-I think I did??” I took a deep breath and tried again.

“Ummm....h-h-here in this world....umm there is no magic, no such thing as Aus and-”

“-Monsters aren't real” Ink finished for me sounding empty,

“........yeah” I said looking down scared and trying to think of something else I can tell him about this world, I heard the sounds of gulping and I knew he was drinking paints to feel again.

“Hey! Don't look so down, it must be cool to be living in a world of creators and creations being made everyday-” he said suddenly cheerful,

I nodded forcing a smile still not looking at him instead looking at the spot where the ink vomit used to be, he stopped talking mid-sentence:

he probably forgot what we were talking about. I thought chuckling,

“I gotta say human you do really good drawings of animals” he said chuckling.

I snapped my head up to see Ink and the reason he stopped talking: HE WAS LOOKING IN MY SKETCHBOOK! I yelpt getting up quickly, my goal was to grab it from him but before I even took a step I tripped on a few toys and instead fell on my bed, face first, next to him, as he still flipped through my drawings, not even paying attention.

I cursed my stupid clumsiness silently and got up grabbing my sketchbook from him and he blinked looking at me as I held my sketchbook to my chest and sat cross-legged on my bed hiding under my hood my insecurities making my mind race:

He saw my art! I'm terrible at art, why would he want to see my art of all things!? I yanked it from him though, that was rude of me, Why did he fall here of all places? I bet this is just a joke and I'm just sleeping or something, I bet he hated my art, I'm bad at art anyways, why would he think it looks cool? Why did he even come to my town? But still he is here and I know a lot about him and his fandom, he has other fangirls, this is just one of those things were he will just go hang out with other artists now that he knows he's in the creation world and forget all about me. He probably doesn’t even like me I’m annoying. He will probably leave then come across a fan of him and they will like each other and live happily ever after, but that fan won't be me, it won't, I'm not worth-

“Hey.....human?” I flinched by the sudden jolt out of my thoughts by someone touching me making me alert......I peeked a little out of my hood to see Ink's gloved hands on both of my shoulders rubbing them a little and he was eye level with me looking at me concerned and curiosity in his eye sockets, I probably was red in the face by now but I ignored it.

“Y-y-yeah?” I asked cursing my croaked voice that indicated I almost cried.

“Are you okay? Your arms were crossed and you were scratching your skin rather roughly and rocking back and fourth, is that normal?” I nodded looking down,

“That happens when I get insecure about stuff and have an anxiety attack.....I kinda just you know, dig myself and well kinda comfort myself, no one else comforts me at those times so I kinda just do it myself that’s why I was rocking, haha” I looked at him and he nodded still rubbing my shoulders and staring at me.

I will NOT admit that I like feeling him rubbing my shoulders!

“You know you never told me your name human what is it?” Ink said smiling.

“OH SHOOT I AM SO SORRY!!!” I pulled away from his hands standing up and he flinched backing up a little his hands still in the air from where I once was as I started rambling.

“How could I be so forgetful?! I'm such a stupid head, bring someone in the house don't even tell them my name-” I continued rambling putting my sketchbook back and turned to face Ink who still had his hands in the air.

“My name is....well, I don't really like telling people my real name until I get to know them so uhh...call me Stitches” I smiled rubbing the back of my neck nervously as he slowly put his hands down and sitting on my bed finally looking up at me.

“What were we talking about? Where am I? Who are you?” he asked in a confused and wary tone.

I giggled a little at his forgetfulness and sat down next to him as he looked at me with confusion.

“I'm Stitches, you are in a world that's not an AU but the real world where creations are made and monsters aren't real and we were talking about how I didn't tell you my name and-” I stopped watching his eyes widened and he smiled,

“Ohh I remember now! Hi Stitches!” He brought his hand out towards me and I flinched looking at his hand and tilting my head before looking up at him confused.

“Ummm. What is the hand for?” I asked confused

“It's how you greet someone new! We both know each other's name so we shake hands as an introduction...do the humans not do that here?" he asked as I looked at him feeling stupid.

“Yeah they do I just- I never actually met someone who does that, the humans here well in my town aren't really nice I don’t know about other towns.....I'm not really social so I don't meet new people and I'm kinda shy at first, I'm sorry I really didn't know what you were doing I've never had that happen before I really don't like being touched either to be honest with you and-”

“Oh! I'm sorry! I was rubbing your shoulders earlier that must of triggered something now! Do you have Haphephobia? That would explain it” Ink put his hand down and looked at me waiting for an answer.

I shook my head, "No no! It's fine you don't have to be sorry, and no I don't it's more of a trauma from past......things" He nodded.

A yellow portal appeared in the middle of the room and two skeletons I knew very well appeared in the room.

“INK!! HERE YOU ARE!" Blue's very loud voice said as he jumped up and down clapping his hands repeatedly,

“I thought we would be going in and out of portals forever" Dream's soothing tenor voice said as he appeared behind Blue into the now crowded room.

“Oh hi guys! Meet my new friend Stitches" Ink said standing up and gesturing over to me as I backed up a little intimidated: I was right! Blue is taller than me as well! holy stars and Dream is taller than all of us!!

“HELLO NEW INK'S FRIEND!” Blue said starting to rush over but Dream put a hand out to stop him mid sprint.

“I don't think she is a hugger Blue, I feel a sorta sadness and deep negative despair in her and probably you going to hug her is going to scare her or worse make her traumatized” Blue looked up at Dream and nodded looking at me and waving.

“HI!!” He said loudly

I shyly waved back muttering 'hi’ feeling a little called out by Dream’s emotion reading.

“Hello as well, I am sorry to cut it short but I sense my brother Nightmare and his group, they are attacking Story-shift right now, Ink, we need to get going” Dream said his arm still out and holding back Blue.

Ink nodded at Dream's words and looked over at me smiling. "It was nice to meet you Stitches, I hope I see you again someday”

I nodded at him smiling my mind telling me all the negative things of us not seeing each other and yeah right's he is happy to go went on in my head, Blue waved at me and I waved back as Dream flinched probably sensing my negativity before opening another portal and all three of them went through, Ink looking back once more to wave at me before it closed and I was left standing in my room. I sighed and looked at the time yelling at how fast time flies and ran out of my room, the sounds of my parent's car door shutting in my ears.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ink's pov:

That was something new! I thought as I went through the portal.

Dream and Blue rambled to each other about where in Story-shift Nightmare and his group were, I was thinking to myself my mind racing, I felt a weird pinch where my soul would of been but ignored it though I felt sadness and longing to see Stitches again, Stitches.........

She was really nice to meet and her drawings were amazing! She was a bit insecure about herself and her art I noticed, I bet I can help her not be so hard on herself, no one's art should be hated and her's were very well made! She is very talented! Man she was something, her greyish blue eyes were very pretty to look into, I couldn't stop staring into them and seeing the swirls of grey and blue, her hair was soft, dirty blonde but in the light it looked light and golden and it went down her back stopping midway, that giant oversized black hoodie made her even more adorable, I loved to watch her hide in it and practically vanish into it, she had such a pretty smile her eyes crinkled a little when she smiled, that voice of hers.....that was beautiful to hear I really hope-

“Ink!? Did you hear me!?!” I snapped out of it looking up at Dream,

“Huh?” I asked hearing Blue chuckle next to me,

“I said my brother and his group are right over there with a few monsters held hostage......I've been saying that to you three times why didn't you answer?” he looked at me concerned.

“I was.......thinking......” I said confused as to why I wasn’t paying attention.

“Uh-huh~” Dream smirked looking at me,

I forgot he can sense other's emotions.

I quickly shook my skull and looked behind the snowbank me, Dream and Blue were behind and nodded to myself: I will meet Stitches again and I'm not gonna forget.

I wrote something down on my scarf and nodded to Blue and Dream and we got ready to battle Stitches still in my mind.

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

Done I hope this is okay @selfshipperapproved

#Ink Sans SelfShip #sanship #fanfic #this probably sucks

63 notes · View notes