#I rarely get any anon so I’m always delighted every time I get one
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hihi, this is ur 🎀 anon. how are you holding upp? hope you're all well by now considering your crazy schedule with school and work🫶
i just wanted to ask if you still take written oneshot requests? if you do can you write some angst with any member. a short one is fine too. it's perfectly fine if you don't want to do it tho
all the best for twisted ties. ilysm always🫶
hi anon!! i’m doing well, the semester is almost over so i’m just pushing through!! tysm for your request! hope you enjoy🫶🏻🎀
situationship w/ heeseung (1.4k words)
it’s been five years since your friend group last came together. tonight was the rare chance to relived shared experiences and create new memories.
You remember college with a fondness tinged with the bittersweet. Back then, Heeseung was a constant in your life, a presence both comforting and exhilarating. Your relationship was an intricate dance of deep conversations under the starry night sky and laughter echoing through the dorm halls. Yet, it was never defined, always hovering on the edge of 'more'. Classes and coffee runs blurred into a montage of moments where the possibility of 'us' was a silent whisper in your every interaction. Now, as you get ready for the gathering, those memories weave through your thoughts, a tapestry of 'what-ifs' that still make your heart skip a beat.
The day Heeseung announced he was leaving for the States, the world seemed to stand still. The job offer was too good to pass up—an opportunity of a lifetime. But what did that make of the time you had spent together? You couldn't help but wonder if your heart was just another stopover on his journey to success. The laughter and shared dreams suddenly felt like echoes of a reality that was never meant to last. He packed his bags, and with every item he tucked away, a piece of your shared story was folded up with it. You were left with a hollow feeling and questions that had no answers. Was it all real? Or were you just a chapter in his life that he had closed as easily as his suitcase? The doubt crept in, a shadow over your self-worth. Was it something about you, or was it just the way of the world, pulling people in and out of your orbit, with no regard for the gravity of your heart?
As you walked into the restaurant, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursed through your veins. The chatter of your friends filled the air, but your gaze immediately locked onto Heeseung, standing at a distance. Time seemed to slow down as you took in his matured appearance, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled. Making your way over, you greeted everyone with a warm hello, feeling Heeseung's lingering gaze on you a little longer than the rest. As he greeted you, a hint of nostalgia danced in his eyes, and you couldn't help but wonder how much had changed since you last saw each other.
As you settle into the lively conversation at the table, your friends mingle and share stories, their laughter filling the air. But amidst the cheerful chatter, you can't help but feel a sense of fluster. Every time you steal a glance across the table, you catch Heeseung's eyes fixed on you, his gaze filled with a mix of curiosity and something more. It's like a magnetic pull, drawing your attention back to him, making your heart race a little faster. The way he looks at you, it's as if he's trying to decipher the unspoken words between you, the emotions that still linger from your shared history. It's both thrilling and nerve-wracking, leaving you with a delightful sense of anticipation and a touch of uncertainty.
The group's laughter spills out into the cool night air as you all decide to make a quick jaunt to the nearby convenience store. The city lights cast a gentle glow on the streets, creating a cozy atmosphere for the post-dinner stroll.
Heeseung falls into step beside you, naturally creating a space away from the others, a quiet bubble amidst the friendly commotion. You can feel the warmth radiating from him, his presence both comforting and unsettling in its familiarity.
He breaks the silence first, his voice casual but with an undercurrent of genuine interest, "So, how have you been? What's new with you?"
You glance over, meeting his eyes, and there's a moment where the world seems to pause. "I've been good, busy with work and all," you start, your voice a mix of excitement and calm. "I picked up some new hobbies, got into gardening. There's something about watching things grow... It's fulfilling, you know?" You chuckle softly, turning the conversation back to him, "What about you? How are things going at your job?”
Heeseung's eyes light up as he begins to share about his marketing job. His voice is filled with enthusiasm and a sense of fulfillment as he explains how rewarding it is to be back home.
"You won't believe how amazing it feels to be back here in Korea," he says with a wide smile. "Working in marketing has been such a journey. I get to be a part of creating campaigns that connect with people, that make a difference. It's incredible to see the impact we can have on the market and the lives of our customers. Plus, being surrounded by the vibrant energy of Seoul every day... it's truly inspiring."
Heeseung's passion shines through his words, and you can't help but feel a sense of admiration for his dedication and love for his work. It's clear that he has found his calling, and his excitement is contagious. As you listen, you can't help but feel a renewed sense of motivation and curiosity about your own path.
“it’s nice seeing you so passionate about something. you were always such a hard worker. i’d knew it pay off eventually” you tell him.You can't help but smile as memories of your shared past resurface. The late-night study sessions, the determination in Heeseung's eyes as he pursued his goals—it all feels like it was just yesterday. It's heartwarming to see how far he's come and how his dedication has paid off.
Heeseung begins speaking after a moment of silence, his voice carries a mix of vulnerability and sincerity. "Listen," he starts, his tone gentle yet filled with regret. "I've been doing a lot of thinking lately, and I wanted to talk about our situation. I want to apologize for not ending things properly between us."
You can sense the weight of his words, and a rush of emotions floods your thoughts. Memories of the past resurface, moments shared and left unresolved. It's a bittersweet realization that he's acknowledging the unfinished chapter between you. Heeseung continues, his voice filled with sincerity, "I should have been more honest and communicative about my feelings. I never wanted to hurt you, and I'm truly sorry if I did. You deserve closure, and I want to make things right."
His admission takes you by surprise, but you appreciate his willingness to address the past. It opens up an opportunity for healing and understanding, a chance to move forward with a sense of closure.You take a deep breath, feeling a mix of emotions, and respond, "Don't be sorry, it's not like we were a couple or anything," you say, trying to keep the mood light, but there's a sharp edge to your words that you didn't intend.
Heeseung's expression changes, a look of hurt flashing across his face. He quickly gathers himself and says, "I know we never put a label on it, but my feelings for you were real. I might have been terrible at expressing them, but that doesn't mean they weren't there. I cared about you a lot, and I still do." You can tell by the earnestness in his voice that he's being genuine, and it makes you reconsider the complexity of your past relationship. It's a lot to take in, and you find yourself at a loss for words, realizing that things were more serious for him than you thought.
", it was hard when you left so abruptly ," you admit, your voice filled with a mix of vulnerability and honesty. "I felt confused and hurt, and it took me a while to process everything."
Heeseung's eyes soften as he listens to your words, and he takes a deep breath before responding, "I'm truly sorry for the pain I caused you. I never wanted to hurt you, and Ive spend everyday for the past five years regretting how i treated you. if you’ll let me i want make it up to you. His sincere apology touches your heart, and you can see the genuine remorse in his eyes. It's clear that he genuinely wants to make amends and rebuild the trust that was lost.
You take a moment to gather your thoughts, appreciating his willingness to make things right. With a soft smile, you respond, "i appreciate your apology heeseung.” he gives you that perfect smile that you’ve been longing for all this time. “let’s start over” he offers you his hand “i’m lee heeseung”. you let out a chuckle at his antics “y/n l/n, nice to meet you heeseung”.
#🎀 anon#enhypen#lee heesung x reader#heeseung angst#heeseung x reader#lee heeseung#enhypen heeseung#heeseung fluff#enhypen angst#enhypen x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen fic#enhypen scenarios
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Narcissa ship meme edition: Narcissa/Hermione. ; Narcissa/Snape. ; Narcissa/Lily Evans ; Narcissa / Arthur WEasley
thank you very much for the ask, anon! delighted to see narcissa getting some rare-pair fun.
hermione granger/narcissa malfoy
so i don't back this, but not for the reason that you might expect...
why i think it's flopping is because hermione is someone who values unshakeable - and public - loyalty. and while she predominantly values this loyalty in relation to the cause that she herself supports, i think she'd equally apply the principle to those on the other side.
which means that i think she can understand - even if she doesn't like or agree with - the unwavering commitment bellatrix has to voldemort. narcissa - no matter her late-in-the-game turn against the dark lord [which i think hermione would approve of since it keeps harry alive, which isn't to be sniffed at] - is someone i think she would regard as a bit sly and insubstantial.
narcissa, for her part, would think hermione was hugely interpersonally off-putting and needed to learn to shut up every once in a while.
neither would be wrong.
narcissa malfoy/severus snape
canon.
no, really. i've explained why here.
lily evans/narcissa malfoy
ok, so i’m afraid to say that narlily is one of those marauders-era ships which i don’t fully get the increasingly popularity of - and so, if you do ship it i would be thrilled to get your recs and manifestos as to why.
my objection doesn’t actually have anything to do with narcissa being a blood-supremacist [although i don’t think i’d vibe with a story which didn’t address this at all - and i’m not compelled by a common version of fanon!narcissa which has her as not sincerely holding these beliefs: she is just as much of a bigot as lucius] - i think something quite interesting could be done with narlily [as in all death-eater-with-a-non-pureblood ships] as a vehicle for an examination of the hypocrisy of blood-supremacy; and with narlily as a femslash ship specifically as a vehicle for an examination of how sex with a non-pureblood which has no chance of resulting in pregnancy would be more acceptable in a culture which is so obsessed with heritage and lineage than sex which could.
why i don’t really think it would slap for me, though, is that narcissa always comes across in canon as someone who is conformist and a bit staid - largely, as i’ve written about elsewhere, because she feels a desire to perform according to the gendered conventions expected of a woman of her class background as a way of deflecting the shame brought upon her family’s standing in polite society by bellatrix and andromeda’s behaviour. lily - on the other hand - is famously a bit bolshy - cheeky and adventurous and argumentative and stubborn.
and so i simply do not imagine their personalities either working well together in any meaningful way or clashing spicily [they’d clearly both regard the other as not worth their time popping off at].
please change my mind!
narcissa malfoy/arthur weasley
yes. a pure, unadulterated [except - well - for the adultery] banger.
my justification for why... here.
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I posted 4,850 times in 2022
2,832 posts created (58%)
2,018 posts reblogged (42%)
Blogs I reblogged the most:
@sapphireicecream
@rfaromance
@just-mysme-headshots
@jinjinranran
@marshmallowprotection
I tagged 2,973 of my posts in 2022
Only 39% of my posts had no tags
#mod kait - 2,710 posts
#ask - 2,693 posts
#anon - 1,383 posts
#mystic messenger - 848 posts
#saeran choi - 743 posts
#mysme - 669 posts
#choi saeran - 623 posts
#mm - 608 posts
#mysticmessenger - 543 posts
#saeyoung choi - 371 posts
Longest Tag: 140 characters
#he should have come to that conclusion himself. it's probably for the better that i'm not actually his assistant because the rfa would be in
My Top Posts in 2022:
#5
I knew what I was talking about when I wrote that Photographer Saeran AU, and I am vindicated tonight. Saeran getting into photography is something that really warms my heart and makes me choke up. Saeran could never see things when he was a kid... going outside was always a rare treat, and through a photograph of something, he could see anything. But, if he gets to take photos now that he’s free... not only is he able to always treasure the memory of visiting a place with a lot of beauty, he can share those photos with other people who suffered just like he and Saeyoung did.
I’m so happy to see Saeyoung here, too. He’s just beaming at the camera as he gets to spend time with his brother without fear anymore. Yoosung and Zen are waving at the MC like dorks as usual, and it’s nice to see them shining. Jaehee and Jumin are both a vision of delight. They all seem really happy, and I’m just so happy to see them shine. I wonder if there’s penguins around... Saeyoung, I need you to show us the secret Penguin dance you learned!
123 notes - Posted February 14, 2022
#4
Saeyoung is so cute im gonna cry
when 707 when luciel when saeyoung when he when when when
128 notes - Posted August 30, 2022
#3
Man I love Saeran, any version of him. I’d actively fight for him because he’s been through so much. Anyone who tries to hurt him gonna catch these hands and I’ll be sure to let him know that. I just wanna protect him.
182 notes - Posted August 5, 2022
#2
Mystic Messenger 6th Anniversary
I woke up a little late today so you can imagine my surprise when the photo was already out and people were posting it out in the open. However, I had to take a few minutes to collect myself and cry after I saw the photo because it struck me so quickly and hard that my heart couldn’t help but weep. Happy Six Years, RFA. I’m happy to be here with you. Let’s get into it and have our breakdown together for the day.
Now, if you pay close attention to the background of the photo, you’ll notice that there’s CGs from every route. Every character has a portrait on the wall that is a reflection of their relationship with MC. The only photo that isn’t actually clear to me on the wall is the photo from Yoosung’s Route. I can see the outline of that frame but I don’t have enough detail to guess what photo they wanted to use for him. I’ve been hunting the clearest photo I can find of this title screen but this is the only one that’s clear to me enough to reveal details.
I’m doing my best over here since it just came out! Hopefully, we’ll get clearer photos as the day progresses. You don’t know how badly I need to change my icon to this photo. You don’t even know. Anyway, I’ll show you photos that are used in the background if you’re not able to see them! There’s a mixture of the birthday photos and route photos.
See the full post
186 notes - Posted July 5, 2022
My #1 post of 2022
Guess what arrived in the mail today?
344 notes - Posted April 6, 2022
Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →
#tumblr2022#year in review#my 2022 tumblr year in review#your tumblr year in review#crying about these#long post#longpost
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Hi :) could you give me a little background on omd? I don't know anything of the band except for a few songs, so maybe you could say your knowledge of the band and the members?
OH MY GOD YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW THRILLED I AM TO DO THIS
Let’s get to the band members first!
Andy McCluskey
Here’s the bossy one. As he puts it, he’s the butcherwho cuts off the raw materials of the song; the director who basically tellsPaul what to do, the one who sees the big picture, while Paul is the surgeonwho splices the details. He sings, plays bass, and writes the lyrics for mostof their songs. And he always dances madly, even in the recent years! For a58-year old guy with bad knees, he’s VERY energetic. So as you can see, he’sthe dominant one. Powerful, loud, cheerful, salty as fuck, thoroughly hatesrock ‘n’ roll, claims he hates cliché love songs but writes them anyway. I lovehim nonetheless
Paul Humphreys
THIS IS MY FAVORITE GUY OFF OMD. MY LOVE. MY HANDSOMEHAMSTER. HE’S CUTE ISN’T HE? Alright, so… he’s the keyboardist, the creativeand technical one. He’s the one who usually comes up with a melody and thenAndy directs how the song should turn out. He’s the one who does most of thesynth sounds! In the old days, he used to build his own “noise machine” bymessing with the circuits and such of old, broken radios. Don’t tell me that’snot badass. He also sings in a couple of OMD’s songs, most notably in“Electricity”, “Souvenir”, “(Forever) Live and Die”, and “Secret”.Personality-wise, he’s the complete opposite of Andy. He’s more quiet, shy,soft, and just lovely overall
Other members are MalcolmHolmes (the long-haired one in the picture above) who was the drummer from the beginning of the band until 2013. Inthat year, he had a cardiac arrest and temporarily died so he had to retire.From 2013 onwards, Stuart Kershaw tookthe drummer position. Another member is MartinCooper (the one with the blue shirt), the saxophonist/keyboardist/occasional bassist. He’s still with theband until now! Except when OMD broke up because he and Mal went along withPaul instead of Andy, but I’ll get to that later…
They embrace the “punk” attitude in terms of music. Youknow, making music as simple as possible. They always say this joke of “We’rethe punks of electronic. Punk plays with one chord, we play with one finger!”
Now, it’s history time. Let’s go back to the 70s
Andy and Paul had always been the hipsters of that era. Theylistened to electronic bands like Kraftwerk, Neu, La Dusseldorf (Kraftwerk,mostly) while their peers listened to prog rock. Andy was in a band and Paulwas the roadie. Despite always being in the same school, that was when theynoticed how they shared the similar interest towards Kraftwerk, so Andy quitthe band and formed his own with Paul that we now know as the pretentiouslynamed Orchestral Manoeuves in the Dark
They started off as a supporting band fo Joy Division inEric’s Club in Liverpool. They didn’t expect to have a longlasting career… theyreally thought it would be their first and last gig. They just wanted to provethemselves and their mates that they dared to go on stage doing somethingdifferent; doing weird electronic music, hence the odd band name. With such apretentious name, they wanted to show the audience how they were doingsomething different
And then they were offered a second gig in Manchester.That’s where they met Tony Wilson, and he signed them up to Factory Records.Then “Electricity” was recorded, and Tony sent it to various major labels, oneof which was Virgin Records, so they moved to Virgin. It was in 1979/1980 Ithink? And with their 1980 album, Organisation (their second one. Their firstone, the self-titled one, was released in the same year) – which they claim asbeing influenced by Joy Division, so this album is basically the child of JoyDivision and Kraftwerk – which included “Enola Gay”, they became well known.They got even bigger with the Architecture and Morality album, which has“Souvenir”, “Joan of Arc”, “Maid of Orleans”…
They commercially dropped dead with Dazzle Ships (1983). Itwas an experimental album, which I personally think sounds great, but probablynot acceptable enough at that time. Despite having quite successful hits like“Telegraph” and “Genetic Engineering”, that album almost single-handedly killedtheir career. So they took a safer path in their next album, Junk Culture(1984), embracing a more pop-ish sound. It can be heard on their catchy hitsfrom Junk Culture, like “Locomotion” and “Talking Loud and Clear”
Their 1985 album, Crush, was produced by Stephen Hague, whowas also the producer for New Order and Pet Shop Boys. They finally got intoUS’ charts with that album, I guess?? Regarding that album and that year, theyoften say something like “We were trying to break America, but America broke usinstead”, so I can’t be quite sure of what happened… commercially, it waspretty successful, I think… with singles like “Secret” and “La Femme Accident”
It was also in circa 1985 where their most notable song, “IfYou Leave”, was also made. Fun fact: they only wrote it in a day, because JohnHughes changed the ending suddenly and called them and said, “Hey, the song youwrote won’t fit to the new ending, could you write a new one?” right beforethey went on tour. The track that was initially going to be used in Pretty inPink, “Goddess of Love”, was later put on The Pacific Age (1986). Speaking ofwhich, that album has “(Forever) Live and Die”, which is a BANGER and is sungby my handsome hamster, Paul
Then they broke up sometime in late 80s. 1989, I think. Theyowed the company a lot of money, so they made a Best Of album. But even thatwasn’t enough. Their choice was either to make another new album (which canmake money, quite possibly, but due to their past experiences, they barely gotany money left because the touring expenses, royalties to their manager, etcwere so expensive) or to stop and just wait for the money to come from theirprevious albums’ royalties (I’m not really sure about this one, they’ve toldthe story a couple of times during interviews but I could never 100% understandthe story). This is where Andy and Paul went their separate ways. Andy chose tocarry on while Paul chose to stop. So Andy carried the name OMD alone (underhis stubbornness). A couple of years later, Paul, Martin, and Malcolm formedThe Listening Pool. Both were obscured by the new trend in 90s that was Britpopand such (Andy often implies that he blames Britpop for the obscurity ofelectronic bands and I loathe him for that smh I’m a Britpop hoe, fuck youAndy). Andy (as OMD) released 3 albums on that decade, tho. Later on, he formedAtomic Kitten
And then they were reunited in 2006/2007, because they wereasked to perform in a German TV. Then they thought, “Oh, people still like us.Maybe we could make music again.” And so they did… they released History ofModern in 2010, English Electric in 2013, and their latest record, ThePunishment of Luxury, was released a month ago! Unlike the 80s, they are nolonger pressured by their record company, so they’re really doing this purelyfor fun. By the way, their latest single off their latest record, “What Have WeDone”, is sung by Paul and it’s fucking glorious. You should listen to it ifyou haven’t
On a more personal note, I find it weird how they’re bothvery influential and infamous. I mean… they don’t only influence other synthpopbands, but also an alternative like Radiohead. I heard that “Fitter Happier” byRadiohead was influenced by “Genetic Engineering”, and now that I think aboutit, “Fitter Happier” does sound like something out of Dazzle Ships. I’ve been aRadiohead fan since 2011/2012 and yet I literally never heard of OMD until thisyear; not until I got to New Order and was getting more cultured regarding 80ssynthpop acts
Lastly, here are some trivia you might not want to know butsounds like fun to share:
Before realizing that they could be actual musicians, Andy wanted to be an archaeologist, while Paul wanted to be an electric engineer
Atomic Kitten was basically Karl Bartos’ (Kraftwerk) idea. Andy wanted to keep writing songs, but he wasn’t confident enough to perform the songs as OMD, so he thought of just handing them to someone else. Then Karl suggested that he should create a pop group where they would sing his songs. Andy thought, “What’s the most popular group nowadays? Oh, I know, 3-piece girls!”
In the recent years, OMD often have underwears thrown at them lmao. Especially during “(Forever) Live and Die”. Poor Paul having to deal with nasty fans (but honestly… I’d do the same). But sometimes they have hazardous shits thrown at them too. One time, Paul had his head hit by a glass bottle (I’LL FUCKING MURDER ANYONE WHO DID THAT. HOW DARE THEY HURT MY BABY). And Andy almost got decapitated when someone threw a metal tray aimed to his neck. Terrifying
Somehow, when they were touring, the bus they rode on resemble a group of terrorists’ bus, so they were surrounded by guns… and luckily, “Enola Gay” was already a big hit, so Andy just waved a magazine with their faces on it and said “’Enola Gay’! Pop stars! Not terrorists!” jesus Christ
There’s actually a version of “Souvenir” where it was sung by Andy. In 2015, Paul was hospitalized in New York, but he insisted that they should do this gig in Perth, so they did, only 3 of them… “Souvenir” was on the set, and Andy sang it. It was… okay, I guess. I’m so used to Paul’s soft voice singing that, so it’s kinda weird to hear Andy’s powerful voice singing it
…I’m sorry if you expected a shortsummary and get this re-writing of OMD’s Wikipedia page instead. I never realizedhow deep I am in their ass until I answered this message with a 1600-word essayabout OMD that was based on my memory alone. Good god
I’m awfully thrilled every time someonementions OMD-related to me, so don’t hesitate if you want to talk about them tome!!
#I rarely get any anon so I’m always delighted every time I get one#ESPECIALLY THIS ONE#the 1600-word part is not an exaggeration… I wrote this on word and it was literally more than 1600 words#which is why I took a long time to answer this… sorry!#also I made that gif especially for this anon
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- a oneshot for artem wing when he finally mustered up courage to ask out their s/o to hang out as friends (theme parks or just garden strolls, you can pick which type of place you want i won't mind!) to confess to them and when he confesses their s/o confesses at the same time too? and the s/o is kinda shy and awkward with him so he gets surprised and all flustered with them confessing at the same time?
(ackk this has been stuck in my head for a while, sorry if there are any grammar mistakes since english isn't my first language! i hope u have a great day!! :D <3)
- coomkie anon ♡
Artem Wing and his s/o confessing at the same time pt. 1
Title: Dedicated
Pairing/s: Artem Wing X Reader
Pronouns: Gender Neutral
Genre: Fluff
Warning/s: Grammatical errors probably
Notes: blushy artem is best artem, and we have celestine being the best wingwoman again
enjoy an amusement park date with Artem <3
Artem Wing is a dedicated man.
If it had been any other person, they would be home right now.
but not him.
Even now, as the looming hours of the night began to tick, he sits at his swivel chair, busied with the love of his life called paperwork.
"Aren't you overworking yourself?" He looked up from his papers to see Celestine waltzing inside his office with documents in hand.
The question should've made him stop and think to at least consider getting rest, but no, we're talking about Artem the workaholic here.
He has heard Celestine's question directed at him for the past few days, and from different people at that.
"Overworking means I have more time to double-check these documents," Artem said as he reached out for the folder that Celestine brought over, "Don't you think it's pretty convenient?"
"Artem," She started with concern in her blue-green eyes, "I know you're trying to distract yourself."
Artem was silent for a few moments before coughing, "Whatever do you mean? There's nothing I have to distract myself from." He said with complete calmness in his voice that he could even fool himself.
"You don't have to hide it, you know? I see the way you look at them," She smiled as she recalled the lingering stares and soft smiles setting display into Artem's face when he's around his colleague "The way you act around Y/N." she added with a hint of teasing.
The mention of your name seemed to short-circuit Artem's brain, Celestine took advantage of this with delight.
"Also... They've been getting friendly and close with that new employee.." She puts her hands on her chin, thinking.
Earlier today, she caught Artem's looks of distraught while his eyes were on you and the new guy. You were having a friendly conversation.
Too friendly.
After that, The youngest senior attorney even requested you to work with him at his desk, claiming that he, quote "needs to keep close tabs on the files that Y/N is handling." end quote.
but Celestine knew better.
Jealous is the only word that can describe how Artem was acting. She decided she will push his buttons tonight.
"Aren't you... threatened?" She beamed at him, waiting for his reaction.
"..."
"They've been on your mind lately, I reckon."
"..."
"They're getting closer with each other, don't you think?"
"..."
Hopeless. Celestine thought.
To say that she's frustrated with this whole situation surrounding the two of you is an understatement. Everyone in your circle clearly sees it - you and Artem like each other.
In the way he bought cake for the whole office that one afternoon the day after an episode of an office drama aired, or in the way that he went out of his way to take care of you in the hospital when you overworked yourself to sickness, or in the way you blushed around each other, the lingering touches, oh the lingering touches. It was all obvious.
The both of you spend your time together more than anyone else, everyone thinks your blooming affections were inevitable at this point. Solving controversial cases meant having the mental and emotional intimacy to get to know each other better compared to your average professional relationship.
You don't see each other as "working partners" anymore, it's clear that you guys want each other as a different kind of partner.
It was known to everyone except for the two of you, apparantly.
Celestine sighed before rummaging through the magazine shelf in the office, grinning when she found what she's looking for.
Artem shot her a look of suspicion. He has a bad feeling about this.
"There." She said with satisfaction before dropping the magazine into his desk.
The magazine lays there, with an eye-catching font and colorful cover page, Artem blushes as his eyes read, 100 cute date ideas...
Judging from the cover, the magazine might actually be useful when giving date suggestions. Under the big font however, there was a smaller text that read, Your significant other is waiting!
What is this...
"I'm sorry but I have work to finish." He tried his best to unsee what he just saw, and decided to turn his focus on the headache of workload in front of him instead.
Celestine raised her eyebrows at him with a frown, "Don't be stubborn now, I'm your boss, I'm giving you both a day-off tomorrow. I mean, you haven't used your day-off at all ever since you started working here. So please. " Her voice is laced with concern.
He looked away with a sentimental look in his eyes, "You don't have to do this for me. I'm fine with... Giving them affection without them realizing it."
Celestine just frowns deeper.
"Come on now Artem, doesn't it sound tempting to you?" She clasped her hands and continued a little too excitedly like a schoolgirl in love, "Having alone time with Y/N, finally asking them out on the date so the other guys threatening your future can back off."
It does sound tempting, Artem admits.
He looked away with reddened cheeks, "I'll think about it."
He doesn't need to look at Celestine to know she's sporting a big grin right now.
Later that night on his bed, his mind keeps flashing images of you. You, wearing a big, warm smile on your face. You, with your little mannerisms that he came to memorize from hours of being with you. Every little thing, every moment, as long as it's with you, he cherishes it.
Oops. The butterflies are starting.
He didn't mind.
You looked stunning today, but then again, he finds you stunning everyday.
When was I this cheesy? He thought to himself.
His thoughts kept racing with reveries about you when a new image interrupted every nice thought.
It was of you and the new employee laughing together.
He frowned and his stomach churns.
"Are they interested in each other?" He finds himself asking the wind. His mind was reeling.
He thinks about the time when he first heard you say that you were married to your work. Surely, you aren't interested in being in a relationship with some guy, right?
Right?
Groaning, he then realized that he needs to make a move now before it's too late.
To him, you're the loveliest person he's ever met, your kindness, your welcoming smile, the passion that you present when you're in the court, the way you always remain headstrong no matter how many people clash with you and try to break your principles.
The only one that occupies his heart, you.
Artem is sure he won't regret giving you his feelings, and eventually, reveal them.
He got up from his bed and sent a glare at the magazine that is now resting on the lamp table beside his bed, mocking him. He picked it up with less hesitation than before.
'What should I choose?' Artem asked himself before flipping the pages, a faint blush adorning his cheeks.
This is a big step for him, and he wants to make sure that he's going to do it right.
7:00am
You rubbed your eyes and stretched your limbs as the sunlight permeated through your bedroom window, the yellow glow giving you a peaceful feeling, a new day is about to start.
A new day without work at that.
You had been ecstatic when Celestine called you to inform you last night of your long awaited day-off, you smiled at the memory as you stand up to brush your teeth.
"You deserve it for all your hardwork!" Even through the phone, you heard the smile in her voice.
Soon, your thoughts drifted to a certain raven-haired man.
'How about Artem? I'm his assistant, does he get a day-off too?' You wondered as you finished washing your mouth, finally heading off to the kitchen to prepare for breakfast.
You were about to choose what to eat from the fridge when you hear a song play from your phone in your room.
You hurriedly went back as you recognized that ringtone - that ringtone you had set for a particular contact.
There on the screen, displays the name of the object of your affections.
Mr. Wing.
'Why is he calling this early? What could he possibly need?' you thought to yourself before pressing the green button.
"Good morning Artem, what is it?" you didn't even try to hide the happiness from your voice, Artem calling you this early doesn't happen often, after all.
"Good morning. Do you have plans for today?" His morning voice echoed through your ears. It was husky and rough, filling all of your senses.
Realizing that he just woke up, you can't help but blush at the thought of being the first person to talk to him today.
He thought of you first thing in the morning!
You tried to control the lingering heat in your face as you replied, "Uhm, yes uhh- none. I have no plans for today, Artem. I'll be thinking of what to do though. Why did you ask? " You hoped he didn't mind the sttuttering mess presented to him this early in the morning.
You wondered if there's an emergency case needed to be taken care of, he rarely ever calls outside of work.
Then again, you're always at work.
"That's good," the other line was silent for a bit. As your anticipation for his reply grew, he finally said, "A new amusement park is going be opened today. I heard they'll be having a fireworks display tonight to celebrate the opening."
You've heard about the said amusement park from your coworkers yesterday, you even heard that it was a project from PAX.
Marius' wealth truly knows no bounds, you thought.
Kiki even invited you to come with her this sunday, as it's the only freetime the both of you had before Celestine's sudden news of a day-off.
Is Artem coming there today? He doesn't seem like the type to go to amusement parks, but now you know that he likes them, or at least he didn't mind going, you added this info to your list of things about Artem that make you fall in love with him more and more. Because let's be honest, what's there not to like about the man?
He's handsome, sweet, a good cook, a senior attorney you can look up to, and he always makes sure to reassure you that you're doing well, that he's proud of you.
He cleared his throat, breaking you out of your thoughts, "Do you want to go there..." He paused, his nerves getting the better of him, unbeknownst to you, "With me? I have two tickets, and I wanted to invite a close friend. Is that alright with you? "
What?
'Is he asking me out on a date!?' you were practically screaming internally as you paced frantically in your room.
No. No way. This isn't a date. Not until he says so.
He said 'close friend' so you shouldn't overthink this. You were partners, after all!
At least you try to convince yourself.
"Of course Artem. I'm glad you invited me, I'm really happy." You weren't lying, his invite was the most unexpected thing that happened to you this week.
He hummed, "I'm happy, too. I'll be there at 2:30pm to fetch you, they'll open around 3pm. " He said in a gentle voice before hanging up.
You pumped your fist in the air. You have plenty of time to prepare.
2:30pm
Among all of the outfits that you could've worn today, you decided to wear a cute, beige, knitted sweater. A pair of faded ripped jeans, white sneakers, and a beanie to top it all off.
The amusement park being your destination, you decided to wear casual clothing since you'd be hopping on rides left and right.
You wouldn't want to wear a skirt just for it to blow on the wind while you're in the air, screaming for dear life.
Nope. You definitely don't want that.
You're now waiting outside your apartment after Artem sent you a text 5 minutes ago that he's on his way.
Your head is plagued with expectations on how this friendly date is going to go. You've never felt as giddy as this before.
It's understandable, right? The person you like asked you out to go with him to an amusement park - using his morning voice, nonetheless, so it wouldn't be strange for you to think that this is like an actual date.
You bonked yourself mentally.
You keep reminding yourself that it's just a friendly date. It's just a friendly date. You believe in the power of your mind, it's a friendly date. He even said so himself.
Artem's going to think you're weird. It's not like you're going to hold hands or anything...
Yet, you didn't even try to stop the daydream clouding your mind.
While you were busy indulging yourself in your fantasies, your eyes caught a familiar spot of black in the parking lot. Artem's car!
That's your cue. When his car stopped, you made your way over to him with a small smile on your face.
His black car opened, spilling out Artem clad in his casual clothing.
You scanned his appearance, taking in those breath-taking, familiar eyes. Taking in the beige, knitted sweater he's wearing, paired with slacks and black shoes.
Wait.
You did a double take- beige, knitted sweater?
You looked at his clothes, then looked down at your own, then back at his again.
Red and warmth crept up to your cheeks as realization hits you.
You kind of looked like a couple.
"What's wrong?" Artem inquired with concern as he stepped closer and reached out his hands to your flustered form.
He even placed his hand on your forehead to check your temperature.
Yes, you think you have a fever.
It's only when he got to take a good look at you when realization hits him the way it hit you.
He retreated his hand and looked away, face as warm as yours.
"Uhh..."
"..."
Why are you acting like a highschooler!? You're better than this, getting flustered just because you wore identical clothes.
With the person you like, you added.
The both of you stayed silent for a few seconds before you spoke up with a grin, thankful that the pink that dusted your cheeks is now cooling down a bit, "We should get going now."
You expected the ride to be as awkward as earlier, but to your relief, that wasn't the case at all.
Artem played the radio on your drive to the amusement park, and even asked you about how you're feeling lately and whatnot.
Honestly, with how he's always so concerned about your well-being, you're doomed to fall even harder.
"What are your favorite rides, Artem?" You decided to talk about something connected to where you're going to go.
"Hmm," as he hummed, you looked in front of the car to see the gates of the amusement park came into view. You can even see the familiar structure of a rollercoaster and a really grand ferris wheel turning slowly.
Majestic.
Is the motif for this amusement park golden!? The railings are shimmering with gold, some parts of the rides are adorned with gold, wherever you look, gold!
PAX outdid themselves with this one, definitely took "shining, shimmering, splendid" to a whole new level. Too much for the word grandeur, you think.
You can't even imagine how wide the place must be. You haven't even stepped foot inside, yet your eyes were oogling as some more rides were seen from outside the gates.
"We're here Artem! Look!" From your side, Artem turns to take a look from the road to the park, his eyes screaming nothing but amusement.
"It's beautiful," He breathed while you nodded furiously with agreement. He shot you a look, "I'm glad I get to spend my first time here with you." The softness is his eyes is blinding as you stared at him and processed his words.
"Me too..." you managed to choke out, turning away to hide your blush.
While you were taming your flushed cheeks, Artem had parked the car already.
He opened the doors for the both of you as he offered you his arm. Confusion takes over your features.
"So you wouldn't get lost, it's a big crowd out here, " He tilted his head to have a better look at your still sitting form inside the car, "Let's go?" He said with that gentle smile, as comforting as ever.
You stood up and linked your arm with his and suggested, "How about the bumpy car first?" excitement was evident in your voice.
He shook his head and chuckled, "Whatever you wish." He said as he locked the car doors with a click. You both headed to check in and do the formalities first. After all that, with a skip to your step, you pulled Artem to the bumpy car's ticket booth, and went inside.
You're elated.
"I can't believe the Artem Wing, the youngest senior attorney, is losing to me!" You sound hysterical as you bumped Artem's car with yours over and over, your bumpy car dominating his.
This is fun! Just minutes earlier, the atmosphere between you and Artem seemed a little tight because of the matching clothing incident. Just a little. However, the laughter of everyone playing in this space is infectious, it leaves you in a really good and playful mood.
It makes you feel like you were a kid again. You hope Artem feels the same.
Before playing, you made a bet with him earlier that whoever bumps the other the most, wins.
"Y/N. I think this car is defective." He said with a frown, his eyebrows furrowing as his hands tinker whatever there was in the steering wheel.
You looked over to him and replied, "We can switch cars, let me see." The two of you switched from each other's bumpy ride and you assessed the supposedly 'broken' car.
You realized he didn't push the right buttons to ride the bumper properly.
"Artem..." You looked at him blankly and said, "Have you ever been to bumpy cars before?"
He was silent before replying with darting eyes, "No, I haven't," He cleared his throat, "I have only been to the ferris wheel and escape rooms, I haven't been to bumpy rides before. Sorry."
You beamed at him.
"Don't be sorry!" You flail your arms to disagree, "There's nothing wrong with that. I'm actually happy that you allowed me to drag you here despite you not having played it before." You flashed him a thankful smile.
He looked a little surprised at first, but then that warm smile of his came back, "Thank you." You stared at each other's eyes for a few beats in time, his ocean eyes containing a sparkle you rarely see them hold. It looks so gentle, so welcoming.
So fond.
You stared at each other for a while, his deep eyes were enough to drown out the crowd. To drown out everything that existed but him.
Blinking, you snapped out of it to teach him how to drive the car.
The cars were booster types, different from the old models wherein you just turn the wheels and you'll be good. In this specific model, commands are needed to be performed in order for the car to execute it's special feature.
"You turn it like this..." Artem is a fast-learner, so the both you were back on track as soon as you guided him the directions.
In the end, you were tied, the bumper time limit resulting the draw.
"I'm definitely beating you next time!" you declared with a smug look, hands on your waist.
After the bumper, a receptionist from what seemed like a family raft ride made his way to invite the two of you.
"You guys look like you're having fun!" He then pointed at the paper he's holding and said with persuasion, "You're going to have even more fun here! The family raft ride is the only free ride we're offering in the park for it's first day, be sure not to miss out on this special bonus!" He then turned his heel to find more costumers.
You blinked, "Too bad we don't have extra clothes..." You hung your head low and you sighed as your mind thinks of a different ride to enjoy.
"Well, he did say it's a special bonus," Artem pondered, "They sell clothes here anyway, and there are restrooms we can change on," you wondered if this is going the way you think it's going, "I can see no harm in trying this free ride." He finished with the corners of his lips turned upwards.
Your eyes sparkled with so much joy that he's glad he suggested this.
"Then what are we waiting for!?" You squeal and jump from where you stand and Artem could only shake his head at you with an adoring look in his ocean eyes.
You both headed to the line of people waiting to get their tickets for the raft.
"That's a long line..." You're already mentally tired as you stared at the single file of people in front of you.
"There's still plenty of time before the fireworks at 7pm, I can go and buy us ice cream. Do you want some? "
You're face fell, remembering you were on a diet, "I appreciate the offer, but no thanks, I'm on a diet." An ice cream sounds really tempting right now, but you must resist.
"I heard they sell low-fat ice cream in here. How about that?" He proposed as his eyes glinted with satisfaction.
He knew this would do you in, sure enough, you gave him the biggest grin you could muster.
"You're the best, Artem! Any flavor is fine, by the way. " You beamed as he turned his heel to the ice cream stall, you just stared at his back the whole time he was away.
A minute later, the man wearing a cozy beige sweater that matches yours turned around and went over to you, two chocolate chip ice cream in hand. You reached out to take your ice cream, your fingers brushing.
You ignored the tingling feeling and the chills. He looked away.
While eating, you talked about how the line for the rollercoaster was two times longer than the raft's even though it's literally free.
"I believe they added a new feature to the coaster." Artem reasoned.
"You bet. The rides' golden theme is already impressive enough," You eyed the unbelievably long line from the coaster's ticket booth, "We can go back here some time to see that feature for ourselves." your face heated as you realized the implications in your words.
His eyes widened for a single moment and then looked at you with such intensity you can't bring yourself to look away, "I'd love that." a gentle look worms it's way in his features once again.
Comfortable silence dawns on your own, little world while you both busied yourselves in your ice cream.
The two of you were thrilled as it was your turn to ride the raft, ice cream long gone, replaced by the life-vest in your hands.
"Ah," you sighed, fumbling with the vest a little longer than you should have.
Artem, of course, noticed your movements. He was kind enough to help you adjust the vest.
Of course.
"Come here." He said as his arms finds it's way to your waist, pulling you towards his stature. His hot breath hitting your face while he circled his arms around you to wrap the vest securely.
This is not good for your heart...
He's so close, you could kiss him if you wanted...
He pulled away, his warmth lingering still.
Even when the both of you sat down on the raft. The ride is going to start in a few and here you are, lost in the feeling of Artem being near you.
"Y/N," You abruptly turned your head to him when he suddenly called you, "are you nervous?"
You blushed so hard you wanted to evaporate with the water, 'Yes. You make me nervous.' you're tempted to respond.
"Yes, but don't worry about me." was your reply instead, and you smiled awkwardly and stared at his blue eyes, blue eyes laced with concern.
He leaned closer, probably so that the other people within your raft wouldn't hear, "I care about you and I want you to feel as comfortable as possible," he whispered in your ear, sending chills to your spine.
This is definitely not comfortable, Mr. Wing.
Your heart is doing flips, this isn't normal!
"Please tell me if you need something." The gentleness in his voice took your breath away the way it did as the first time.
The fact that he's unaware of his effect on you angered you so much. You scanned his face for signs of teasing. Smirk, maybe a playful glint, anything.
Yet you found none.
The raft began to move, a perfect timing to change the subject!
You leaned on him, but not too close, and whispered, "It's starting."
Water began to splash, as the raft moved with the current.
The track was smooth at first, you getting small splashes here and there.
Until a bumpy track decided to present itself.
Like before, the raft went with the flow of the water, except that it bounced and rotated harshly that one particular splash of water was enough to wet you and your clothes completely.
"OH MY G-" you exclaimed when the raft hit a rough spot again, soaking everyone wet.
You were making a surprised pikachu face as the water seeped into your clothes.
You turned to look at Artem to see his state and you suppressed a giggle with how he's making the same face as you did earlier.
Never in your life you thought you'd see Artem with the surprised pikachu face.
You took pride in knowing that you're one of the very few people who gets to see this side of him.
"Artem!" you shouted through the noisy stream of water. "We look silly!" you laughed as the water rocked everyone in the raft as harsh as it possibly can. Round and round, back and forth.
"We do!" his laughed mingled with yours even when the water relentlessly kept soaking your already wet bodies.
You smiled once again, gazing at his form with profound fondness longer than just a friend would've done.
6:00pm
"That was really fun!" You shouted to the air while Artem scooted beside you, offering his arm like he did earlier, which you eagerly took.
The both of you went for another round on the raft after the first round, not caring about the long waiting line. The ride was worth it!
All you ever did was scream and laugh at each other's state, but it was the most enjoyment you've ever had in years.
You were completely dry now, changed into fresh clothes that were sold as the park's merchandise.
Even with the change of clothes, the clothes you were wearing right now still matched Artem's.
You weren't complaining.
The crowd continues to enjoy themselves, all while the sunset was making everything in the theme park look like a fairytale.
"Yes, it was. I enjoyed it very much." Artem flashed a smile so genuine, you wanted to see this sight a thousand times more. The orange glow of the sunset gives his raven hair a golden shade, light reflecting on his blue eyes, making him look so bewitching. So you carved it to your memory, not knowing how to elicit that same image from him once again.
Looking up at him, and looking back at the things that happened today, you realized something.
You couldn't take this silent pining anymore, you wanted to tell him how precious his smile is to you, to tell him you're glad he's spending his time with you, to tell him to make more memories with you.
To tell him he's the reason of the warmth flooding your whole being right now.
'I'm in love with you' is what you first thought of saying. No matter how cliche that may be, you wanted to let him know, that you're in love with him.
"Uhh, Artem, I-" You were about to spill your feelings then and there when a voice boomed the speakers of the park.
"Everyone! One hour more to go for the fireworks! Please look forward to it!"
Your confession's gonna have to wait for later.
part 2 here
do not repost © lavynrose 08/15/21.
#tears of themis#tears of themis x reader#artem x reader#artem wing#artem wing x reader#tears of themis imagines#tears of themis headcanons#zuo ran x reader#tot x reader#tears of themis oneshots#tears of themis artem#tot artem
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What if Bella got possessed by a demon in Twilight? Like pretty standard, The Exorcist type of stuff.
A lot of you anons should just head on to Ao3 instead of my inbox because whereever you went with this fic idea, I’m sure it’d be delightful. Lulzy, but an absolute delight.
Since you say Twilight, I’ll just set the timeline to the beginning of the series, when Bella has just arrived in Forks. She got possessed just before leaving, as Renée wanted to try an ouija board.
So, for the purposes of this ask, demons are real within the Twilight universe. They have to be very few and far in between, though, since humans don’t know about them and they presumably don’t care about following the Volturi law.
Bella is Reagan and the demon Pazuzu has taken up residence within her.
As happened in The Exorcist, this isn’t very noticeable at first. Bella starts saying some messed up things, yes, enough so that the other kids at school avoid her and the teachers give Charlie a call, but she’s not running down the stairs like a spider. Charlie is worried about her behavior and calls Renée about this, but he’s not dialing up any priests just yet.
Well, Bella gets worse.
Edward, for the record, was interested in this delicious smelling girl with the mystery box brain up until she started spouting profanities in the hallways at other students. Not being able to read her mind, he assumes Bella Swan is just like that. There’s no challenge, no reward, nothing to keeping her alive, his only real reason for not eating her at this point is Carlisle. Though his sheer distaste at that vulgar human who dares to tempt him so makes him resistent to drinking her blood, just out of spite. She’s not his perfect damsel with the delicious blood, and that ruins a lot of the appeal. Not all, mind, because that blood is still delicious.
Though it does help when she’s pulled out of school. Edward can pretend vulgar hamburger doesn’t exist, even as he ruffles through her wardrobe for sweaters to huff.
Back to Charlie, whose daughter is now running down the stairs like the spider.
He sends her to every shrink he can afford, has all the doctors in Forks look at her, and none of them give him an answer he can believe. He’s at his wit’s end.
And this affliction, whatever it is, that’s affecting Bella, it doesn’t seem natural, not human. She speaks in tongues, sexually assaults herself (yes, this happens in the movie), growls and hisses like an animal, in every way acts like- well, whatever it is, Charlie’s ability to deny that this his daughter’s affliction is supernatural in origin is growing thin.
But none of the shrinks can help him with that, and Charlie is a “lapsed Lutheran”, so I doubt priests is something he’ll consider all that seriously. He needs occult help, yes, but from someone who will actually help Bella.
His mind turns towards Carlisle Cullen and his children, and how Billy reacted when they moved into town.
Charlie laughed off his friends’ fears then, thought it was ridiculous to believe the Cullens could ever be anything but human. He dismissed their unusual looks as just that, unusual looks, their too-good-to-be-true cover story as them being that wonderful, and was quite happy about it.
That was then, now his daughter is fast becoming proof that the occult is indeed real.
And Dr. Cullen is so very kind, excellent in his work as a doctor and above all knowledgeable.
Say that Billy was right, that these guys aren’t as human as they appear. Well, that makes them the only people in the world, in Charlie’s world anyhow, who might be able to help.
Which is how Carlisle has the town chief walk into his office, tell him his daughter is possessed by a demon, and that Carlisle has to come over and have a look at her.
Now, as I think demons would be extremely rare, we’ll allow that Carlisle with all likelihood hasn’t seen any of these before. Quite the contrary, he was once a man who persecuted women suspected of witchcraft. He understands Charlie a little too well, but is also not touching this exorcism quest with a ten-foot pole.
Except, the chief seems convinced that Carlisle himself isn’t entirely human.
What would a human doctor do?
Carlisle really has no choice here but to come with Charlie. Besides, no matter how one looks at it what Charlie said about Bella is highly disturbing, the girl obviously needs medical attention.
So Carlisle has a look at Bella, and his “ahahaha we’re all human in here” smile quickly stiffens as he finds that whatever’s going on with Bella, it is indeed not human. She’s spitting green goo, talking Latin backwards, inhumanly strong, impersonating Carlisle’s father, and depending on how closely we follow Pazuzu’s actions in The Exorcist she may have killed a man. There’s scars on her body spelling out pleas for help.
It becomes clear to Carlisle that this girl really does need an exorcism. Or something, anyway, this is terrifying new territory for him.
But he has neither any clue nor the authority to perform an exorcism, and he lacks the network to get his hands on a human priest who’ll do this. More, even if humans could help (and considering how misinformed they are about vampires, the odds of that are extremely slim), involving more humans than have already been pulled into this would not make the Volturi happy.
There’s really only one place to go where someone will have the resources to help this suffering human, and that’s Volterra.
There’s a risk that demons are like immortal children and Aro will kill her on the spot, but Carlisle, still spooked from father Cullen’s voice coming out of this 17-year-old girl in the 21st century, has no other recourse.
So he tells Charlie he’s taking Bella somewhere Charlie can’t follow, and it’s likely they’ll never see each other again, even if Bella is saved. Charlie is devastated, but the promise that his daughter could get better means he can’t refuse. Just the fact that Carlisle isn’t entirely human yet benign makes him the best help Charlie is able to get her.
Carlisle takes Bella to Volterra, where Aro puts on his best Max von Sydow impression and says “Ah, demons... I’ve seen this once before, in the memories of a merchant from Ur...”
Knowing Aro while not knowing the lore of The Exorcist well enough to know what to do about a demon possession if you don’t have a Catholic priest on hand, I imagine Aro dresses up in whatever it is that Sumerian priests wore thousands of years ago (he always told Caius those bedazzled costumes would come in handy someday, and look who was right! VINDICATION) and tricks Pazuzu into possessing one of the humans Heidi brought in instead. This human is promptly killed. Ta-da, Aro smiles to Carlisle, he solved the problem!
Bella wakes up surrounded by insanely beautiful people in an underground palace in Italy and remembers nothing. Carlisle gets the honor of explaining to this human girl that she was possessed by a demon, Charlie asked Carlisle to fix it, and now the nice man who makes jingling noises whenever he moves because he’s dressed head to toe in gold wants her to be a different kind of demon because he can’t read her mind.
Bella caught maybe half of that.
Carlisle refuses to elaborate on the “possessed by a demon” part. No, Bella, you did nothing embarrassing, no one thought you were weird. We hardly noticed you were possessed at all!
But he was serious about that last part, Aro noticed she has a special ability so he’d like for her to become a vampire.
Bella, still, overwhelmed, makes a phone call to Charlie explaining nothing at all but assuring him that the demon is gone. She is then made a vampire.
Edward arrives too late to the party, so late that the party is in fact over, as he didn’t believe Carlisle when he said hamburger was possessed by a demon. Now it turns out that the disgusting, vulgar girl was in fact a delicate flower and a damsel in distress this whole time. Except, now she’s a vampire. Woe! Theirs is a love that never bloomed.
Bella has no idea who this guy is, and asks Renata to make him go away.
#long post#the exorcist#twilight#twilight meta#twilight renaissance#bella swan#charlie swan#carlisle cullen#edward cullen#aro
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hiii i love your writing so much! i wanted to request maybe a junhui + reader barista au >< the plot can be anything i'm just a sucker for fluff aaaa
hope you have a great day <33
you | w. jh.
pairing: barista!junhui x g.n. reader
genre: fluff
warnings: mentions of food (please tell me if i missed anything!)
word count: 1.2k+
💌: i am currently working from home and finally managed to finish this! thank you so much for requesting anon! i hope you like it:’)
The coffee shop you frequent has a newly hired barista. You assumed that said barista is new because ever since you started taking comfort in their coffees and pastries while studying, this is the first time you’re seeing the tall and handsome man. He’s really handsome, you have to admit and emphasize that. Most especially up close, where you can fully grasp almost every detail of his sharp features; you can tell he’s out of this world.
“Hi! I’m Junhui,” he happily greets before taking the cap off of the pen he’s holding, “What can I make for you today?”
Junhui. You remember his name and his voice. If you can fall in love with the sound of a voice, it would be his.
You reciprocate his happiness by answering his question in great delight (pretending you don’t have two final papers due by the end of the week). You notice how Junhui’s smile grows as he gets your order down. Although he really won’t be making your drink as he takes charge of the cashier, you don’t mind. After punching in your payment, he hands you the coaster that would buzz once your order is ready. You thank him and leave a generous amount of tip.
Not because you’re trying to impress him or give him any special treatment. You just think he deserves it. Actually, everyone in this coffee shop deserves it for how they have given you a place to study comfortably and at the same time a place to have fresh brewed coffees and baked goods. Junhui is now a new addition to the staff that you’re grateful for.
The first meeting with Junhui was good and you thought you were off for a great start. You thought he would remember your name, your usual order or maybe even your face. But to your dismay, he doesn’t.
At all.
It’s a little disheartening. Just a little bit. You’re pretty much torn on how you feel about him anyway. For one, you’re used to the regular baristas here greeting you every time you come in. It doesn’t matter what time or day it is. But, how come Junhui doesn’t even glance up at you unless you’re talking to him directly?
On the other hand, you also don’t know why you have so many high expectations for him. Do you fancy him? Or are you just attracted because he’s handsome?
Nonetheless, you ignore your disappointment and continue going to the coffee shop like how you always do. What you feel doesn’t matter anyway. What matters at the moment is you getting through the semester without any failing marks so that you can get the stress free vacation you’ve been yearning for.
You can always go to the library, but a warm cup of coffee and a decadent slice of chocolate cake is too good to turn away from.
“Hi Junhui,” you shyly greet as you stand on the counter with your wallet at hand.
The coffee shop is quiet right now as it is almost nine in the evening. You haven’t been going during your usual late afternoon study session due to circumstances so you haven’t seen Junhui on his regular shift. But tonight, it seems like he took the night shift. This is the first time you’re seeing him after a while.
“Hey.” Junhui smiles, his pen ready. “I’ve been excited to see you all day.”
That last sentence makes you blink in confusion. Huh? You look behind you and the rest of your surroundings to check if he’s really talking to you. When it’s just really you that he’s talking to, you silently point a finger to your chest, confirming if it’s really really you that he’s talking to.
Junhui only laughs. “Yes, you. Now, what can I get for you?”
You narrow your eyes at him. “What have you done to the Junhui of this place? Who are you?”
“Y/N, are you going to order or not?”
You gasp in horror (dramatically). “Did you just say my name?”
Junhui rolls his eyes. “You know what, no free cookies for you tonight.”
“No!” You hold a hand out in surrender. “Okay, okay. One cafe latte please.”
That night was both amusing and bewildering. You have no idea where the sudden turn around came over Junhui, but you will take it.
From then on, Junhui’s smile is a little different and you can see it in his eyes. He still rarely calls your name but when he does, it’s genuine. He still asks for what you’ll be ordering, but it doesn’t bother you anymore.
“I think scrolling through every Instagram story is not a good idea if you really want to get at least an eighty on that essay.”
In this particular study session, Junhui has kept an eagle eye on you. He’s not taking any excuses from you when he clearly ordered you to not touch your phone in exchange for a free slice of cheesecake.
You pout when Junhui picks up your mug, pouring the refill he promised when you reached three hundred words. “Can’t I take a break now and have the cake?”
Junhui gives you a “in your wish” look while planting his other hand on his hip. “Nope. Your goal is to finish tonight so all that’s left to do is to review and revise.”
“Since when did you become so strict,” you grumble and return your attention back to your laptop.
“Ever since I started giving you free pastries, that’s when,” he replies and takes the chair opposite your side.
You scowl. “I can always pay. You’re the one that’s declining.”
“I’m not complaining,” Junhui says and picks up one of your notes.
Junhui admitted later that it was hard for him to approach you differently from how he usually addresses every customer in the coffee shop. Not because he doesn’t like you. Of course not. It was difficult because just like you, he found you cute and even cuter whenever he hears you call his name or whenever he sees your happy smile as you tell him your order (even though he already knows).
Junhui’s guess is you make him speechless and that he gets stuck with his regular programming as a cashier slash barista catering to the caffeine needs of everyone. As much as he wants to be your Junhui, he can’t help but be blown away by you, your face, voice, presence.
You.
However, when you started to visit the cafe late and during his off, he knew he needed to change and develop your awkward encounters into something else, something intimate and affectionate in the sincerest way possible. That’s how he ended up finally and excitedly calling your name.
That’s also the beginning of the best relationship you could ever ask for.
“Shouldn’t you be going back to work?” You ask, confused as to why he’s lounging around.
“Sweetheart, my shift ended thirty minutes ago.”
Your eyes widen, immediately looking at the time. It’s way past ten and you’re still here. Way past closing hours. Way past Junhui’s shift. You can’t believe you lost track of time.
“I’m so sorry,” you apologize and quickly gather your belongings. “I didn’t notice the time.”
“Hey, hey,” Junhui calls and holds your hand to stop. “It’s okay. Calm down.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” You pout and zip close your backpack.
Junhui just gives you his signature grin and waves a hand. “I told you it’s fine.”
“Is that your excuse to keep me to yourself and stare at me all night?”
Junhui giggles. “You got me.”
#seventeen#junhui#wen junhui#seventeen scenarios#seventeen scenario#junhui scenario#junhui scenarios#seventeen fluff#junhui fluff#seventeen imagines#seventeen imagine#junhui imagine#junhui drabble#junhui drabbles#seventeen drabble#seveneteen drabbles#junhui svt#svt#svt junhui#drabble: adore u#drabble: you
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an obikin fic in which Obi is pining (and is hopelessly in love) with Anakin from afar but he thinks he is too old and that Anakin deserves only the best but Obi has his happy ending
Hi anon, thanks for this! I hope the below fic is something you had in mind. 😊
Anakin was next on the Council’s agenda, and from the hastily written report they had received hours before, the meeting was unlikely to be a quick one. They hadn’t seen each other in weeks, what with Anakin mostly touring the outer rim and himself left on Coruscant. It wouldn’t do well for the other Council members to know, but Obi-Wan had missed him. He missed them. The Team.
And if Obi-Wan missed Anakin more than was entirely appropriate, then only he would ever know. There was no need to embarrass himself after all.
Sweat and dust darkened Anakin’s robes as he walked into the chamber, his curls plastered to the back of his neck and usually golden skin a chestnut brown. Tivol was a hot world, Obi-Wan recalled dumbly, with scorching heat that rivaled Tatooine’s, and Force, if possible, it had made Anakin even more beautiful.
The sight of him hit Obi-Wan hard, both by the frantic thud of his old heart and the deep and low drum below his belt, sparking adrenaline in his veins like the crackle of an electroblade. He shook his head, urgently trying to gather his wits after having them knocked out of him due to the simple sight of his former Padawan.
“Masters,” Anakin said, bowing respectfully and casting them a small smile, his eyes lingering on Obi-Wan.
“Knight Skywalker,” Master Windu said, “the Council is glad that you have returned, your report was most...brief in its detailing about your success on Tivol.”
Anakin flushed, the red tint wonderfully darkening his cheeks even more. “My apologies, I was too engaged with the mission whilst there and only remembered the report on my way back.”
Oh, Anakin, he thought fondly, chucking his erstwhile Padawan an exasperated look and privately delighting in watching Anakin squirm as a result.
Master Windu leaned forward, disappointment written plainly on his face. “You forgot?!”
Anakin’s face went from endearingly embarrassed to outright irate, turning a telltale purple as his anger grew. That wasn’t what Obi-Wan wanted to see. Anakin had had a difficult few weeks, he didn’t deserve to be reprimanded so soon upon his return.
“No harm has come from it, surely, Master?” Obi-Wan interrupted softly, stubbornly keeping his composure as Master Windu’s deep brown eyes settled upon him rigidly. “Anakin can add to the report today if necessary.”
A few seats down from him, a baritone chuckle sounded. “Knight Skywalker, your former Master has come to your defence once again. He does that quite a bit you know,” Master Plo observed.
Obi-Wan spluttered, indignant. “I do not.”
“Don’t you?” Master Windu asked, an eyebrow arched knowingly.
Now it was his turn to blush, except when he did so his face turned awfully red and splotchy. Charming on someone as lively and youthful as Anakin, but utterly demoralising on an older man like him.
Anakin peered at him with an odd intrigue in his sharp blue eyes. “Do you?”
“I-I…” he fumbled, victim to a verbal ineptitude that he very rarely experienced.
Apparently, Anakin found that amusing. Those enigmatic eyes shined with mirth and a mischievous smile settled on his face, no doubt delighting in the flustering of his usually impervious former Master.
“Perhaps I am guilty of doing so on occasion,” Obi-Wan admitted reluctantly.
It was worth it. Anakin ducked his head shyly, coyly looking at Obi-Wan from beneath long, golden lashes. They stared at one another intensely for what felt like an infinite moment. Each agonising second made him hot all over, heat making his vision hazy, and he fought every instinct telling him to go to Anakin. To pull him into his arms and to bite at that full bottom lip.
But he wouldn’t. Anakin didn’t want him like that, why would he? There were others who could give him what Obi-Wan could not. Younger, better, people who were able to give him everything that he deserved.
“Perhaps you can tell me about those occasions over dinner?”
What?—
Obi-Wan’s wandering gaze snapped back to Anakin’s face. Embarrassment had returned, but there was also the familiar hardness of determination. Had Anakin really just said that? Was Anakin flirting with him? Right here, in the Council chamber—
“Force help me,” Master Windu suddenly muttered. “Can we please get back to the mission report?”
Obi-Wan slowly turned to look at him, face beet red and mortified by what had just transpired. He rubbed a grounding hand through his coarse beard. “Of course, Master.”
Throughout the remainder of the meeting, Obi-Wan kept his eyes firmly planted anywhere but on Anakin, convinced that should their gazes meet then he would do something horribly inappropriate. Just when exactly had he become this man? Wildly passionate and besotted with a man who could enchant him with his insufferable teasing and his loud, booming laugh.
Oh, how Obi-Wan ached to hear that laugh. It had been too long since he had enjoyed the thrill of Anakin’s company.
By the time the Council adjourned for the day, Obi-Wan had mostly been able to purposefully forget what had occurred hours earlier. So sure that he had misinterpreted Anakin’s request, and certain it was only a result of his own hopeless longing, Anakin wanting him in return never being a possible explanation.
“It’s about time.”
Frowning, Obi-Wan finished standing from his Council chair and turned to Master Plo. “Excuse me?”
Obi-Wan wasn’t sure, but he thought the Jedi Master was grinning beneath his mask. “I said it’s about time. That doesn’t mean I want to hear about all the sordid details in the morning though, Master Kenobi.”
Obi-Wan gaped at him. Sordid details? About what? “I’m afraid I still don’t understand, Master.”
Yes, Obi-Wan thought, the Jedi Master was definitely smiling, he could see the recognisable creases by his eyes now.
His gleeful reply also gave him away, “Go and get him, Master Kenobi.”
Obi-Wan stared after him as he walked away. Go and get him, Obi-Wan repeated to himself as he made his way to his quarters. What in the galaxy did that mean? Today had been one of the strangest in recent memory. Force, what was he even going to say when he next saw Anakin?
His quarters should have been dark when he entered, but they weren’t, something was...flickering?
What in the Force—
The room was lit by a slew of candles placed around the dining room, light blinking alongside the subtle shifts in the air. The room looked remarkably serene, the candles backlit by Coruscant’s sunset providing hues of a dusty orange-pink. On the table was some food, steam rising from plates, and a bottle of red wine placed in the middle.
Alderaanian wine—Obi-Wan’s favourite.
“Hello there, Master.”
Obi-Wan swivelled to look at Anakin, the alluring lines of his body resting deliberately casually against the kitchen counter, surveying Obi-Wan with a nervous, but amused smile tilted on his lips.
“Hello, Anakin,” he croaked. “What’s all this?”
“Dinner,” Anakin said, grinning when Obi-Wan rolled his eyes.
“Yes, I can see that,” he retorted, voice dry and fond. “Why is there dinner, and err—” he blushed furiously, hoping that the darkness hid it, “candles.”
“Because I said that we should have dinner together.”
Obi-Wan tugged at his beard, thinking. “No, you asked if we could.”
Anakin sighed, naked, frustrated affection sitting on his face. “Details, Master.”
Obi-Wan hummed and continued stroking his beard, trying to calm the pounding of his heart. He observed the situation again, considering the impossible...Anakin was not known for subtlety, perhaps...Anakin wanted him? Maybe Anakin was trying to tell him something.
He swallowed the lump in his throat and took a deep breath. “Anakin—”
Before he could say more, Anakin smiled at him, almost shyly, before walking up to him, and then...then—
Anakin’s lips were on his. They fit together as he had always imagined they would, their lips slanting together and meeting with an intoxicating heat. Obi-Wan wound one hand to cup his head, fingers threading through dishevelled locks, the other hand falling to his lower back, pulling him close. Their lips parted at the instinctive pressure, their tongues slipping into each other’s mouths. Anakin moaned obscenely, the sound more erotic than his wildest dreams.
Eventually, Obi-Wan gathered enough awareness to break the kiss with a wet sound. “Anakin—what?”
“Master,” Anakin panted, the honorific making Obi-Wan groan indecently, “I can’t believe how oblivious you are.”
Obi-Wan scoffed. “I resent that—”
Anakin laughed and kissed the underside of his jaw. “It’s true.”
“I just…” he murmured against bitten lips, “I never thought you would be interested in an old man like me.”
Anakin’s brows furrowed. “You’re not old.”
“I’m sixteen years your senior, Anakin.”
“So? That doesn’t bother me, I’ll want you even when you’re actually old.”
“Hmm,” Obi-Wan sighed, gently biting at the hollow of Anakin’s throat. “You might not feel that way when you’re older and you meet someo—”
Anakin jerked his head back up and kissed him again, desperate and deep. “No,” he stressed, “I want you, I’ve wanted you for years, Obi-Wan.”
Obi-Wan’s eyebrows jumped at that. Years? His observation skills clearly needed improving.
“Do you believe me?” Anakin asked, pulling back to look at him.
Futilely, he looked for any indication of deception. It was pointless, want and need sat as clear as day on Anakin’s face.
“I do.”
Anakin surged against him, pressing their mouths together once more, and the both of them smiled in delight as their dinner lay forgotten.
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The Brothers Reacting to a Tattooed MC (SFW)
Aw, you’re so sweet Anon! This is a lovely ask! I’m so sorry that you’re family weren’t receptive to your new tattoo. That’s terrible, and I hope this makes you feel a bit better!
So, I’m assuming you meant an MC with a large tattoo on their back? If not, feel free to tell me and I’ll make a new hc! This hc has a reader with a large back tattoo and/or multiple tattoos. Since this has all 7 brothers, each one will be shorter than my usual hcs. (Also, I’m posting a rules page soon, so stay tuned!)
This is SFW, with a GN! Reader. Reblogs, likes, and comments are greatly appreciated!
The Brothers Reacting to a Tattooed MC (SFW)
Lucifer:
To be honest, it doesn’t really make a difference to him.
He didn’t fall in love with you for your physical looks, so it doesn’t really affect him much.
That doesn’t mean he won’t find it lovely though.
He admires the time you had invested in this, along with the fact you felt so strongly about a particular subject/object, that you had it permanently inked on your body.
If you feel self-conscious about it, he won’t stare, but his eyes stray to it from time to time, admiring the details of it.
But if not, congratulations! You have the avatar of pride enamored with your tattoo(s).
If you’re ever stressed, he’ll sit you in his lap and trace over your tattoo(s), attempting to calm your nerves.
All the while whispering words of affirmation.
Any time you’re feeling insecure of your tattoo(s), Lucifer’ll make sure to praise you, something rare from him.
“My love, your tattoo(s) is/are a part of you, and it’s/they’re a stunning piece of art. Don’t let anyone else tell you otherwise, it’s a testament of your conviction. Be proud of yourself, and never feel ashamed of your tattoo(s).”
Mammon:
Now, I hc that Mammon has tattoos other than his demon markings
So he probably wouldn’t be caught off guard, as he’s used to seeing humans and demons with full body tattoos, or tattoos that take up a large area on their body.
However, that doesn’t mean he won’t react
As soon as he sees it, he’s swooning
If you’re ok with it, he’ll be bragging to whoever would listen about how strong you were, and how awesome you looked.
Definitely the type to get a matching tattoo with you if you ever want to get another.
If your tattoo(s) are of a crow or feathered wings, he swears he falls deeper in love with you.
Well, if that’s even possible
Any crow/avian wing tattoos, would make him just melt, knowing you have his symbolic animal tattooed on yourself.
If you ever show any insecurity about your tattoo(s), you bet he’ll do his best to soothe them.
The moment he picks up on your insecurities, he ramps up the affection and love he shows for your ink.
“Ya ain’t serious, right? Yer stunning, better than any other piece a’ art! There ain’t no way I’m lettin’ anyone tell ya yer not tha most beautiful person in all three realms.”
Leviathan:
He’s awestruck when you show him your tattoo(s).
You’re like his favorite action anime protagonist!
Levi is just in disbelief at the fact he has such a badass partner.
He adores any type of tattoos, but one as large and powerful as this?
Oh he has heart eyes-
Especially if you had a scaly/reptilian one, it’d make him nearly faint in delight
We all know he loves reptiles -gestures to Henry-
A reptiles had always been seen as symbols of reality and power, and he admires you greatly for having one tattooed on you.
Whenever he cosplays, he’ll ask if you’d like to cosplay with him as a tattooed character.
He’ll fawn over how incredible you look, bragging on his Devilgram about how kickass his lover is.
Your cosplays together always end up with thousands of likes and comments, fans adoring how much of a power couple the both of you are.
You notice, that after you show him your tattoo, that he starts playing with tattooed characters.
Upon asked why, he responded with,
“W-well...you’re really cool, and tattooed characters remind me of you. Badass and someone who deserves respected. Even when you’re not physically with me, playing with a tattooed character makes it feel like you’re playing with me.”
Satan:
He’s intrigued and fascinated immediately
What’s the symbolism behind it?
What motivated you to get it done?
He’ll try and memorize every detail, wanting to remember how it looks against your skin.
But if you’re uncomfortable with the origins of the tattoo(s) or don’t want to talk about it, he won’t pry.
If you want, he’ll give you essays upon essays of knowledge on it’s spiritual meaning, and what past cultures had those marks for.
He’ll be sure to have some questions for you as well.
‘some’. By some, he means dozens, maybe hundreds of questions
He’d absolutely write poetry about how your tattoo(s) crawl across your skin, painting a masterpiece.
Any time insecurities pop up about it, he’ll be sure to dispel them immediately.
“My love, your tattoo(s) are a wonderful part of you. They’re/It’s a part of you, and I love you wholeheartedly. With or without the tattoo(s), I fell in love for you for your personality and intelligence. That will never change, so don’t think you’re less-than because of your tattoo(s).”
Asmodeus:
Oh you bet he’s going to fawn over it.
As soon as he finds out, expect to be showered in praise and words of adoration.
Complimenting how well it matches your color palate, outfit aesthetic, hair color, etc.
Immediately takes you out for clothes that show it off, and compliment the style of it.
How could he not want to show off such pretty mark(s) on his lover!
Absolutely supports you all the way, and would love to throw in his two cents if you ever decide to get another tattoo.
If you’re up for it, he’ll get you a page in Majolish, maybe even the front cover!
For sure, wears clothing to match your tattoo(s), and does his nails a similar style.
He’d even commission designers for special pieces, that mimic the design of your tattoo, and expose it, showing the world your beauty.
Definitely the type to take selfies with you and make aesthetic boards of you including your tattoo.
He adores you, and every part of you, no matter what.
“Darling you are more beautiful than anyone who criticizes you! All those haters of yours are just jealous, hon!”
Beelzebub:
In S3, he has one while in the human world, so he’d probably find it pretty cool that you have one(+).
I hc Beel to doesn’t care much about physical looks, so he probably wouldn’t pay it/them any special attention.
Why would he think of you differently because of it?
He’s fairly curious though.
Doesn’t it hurt? How long did it take for you to get it done?
Either way, he sees it/them as a nice mark on your skin, but not something he’d make a fuss about.
Another one of the boys who would get a matching tattoo with you, after all, he doesn’t mind tattoos, so if you wanted to get a matching one, he wouldn’t say no.
One of the types to absentmindedly stare at your tattoo, unaware that he’s staring.
If it’s of food, he may or may not drool at the sight of it, so you may not want to let it near his mouth, lest he accidentally bite you.
He’s more perceptive to people’s emotions than others give him credit for, and does his best to comfort you.
Any time you’re slighted for your tattoo(s), he’ll leap to your defense asap.
“A tattoo doesn’t define a person. Having your skin inked doesn’t make you less than anyone else. Whether you have one or not, it doesn’t give people the right to judge you based on that.”
Belphegor:
Honestly? He’s pretty neutral on this
He doesn’t really care if you do or don’t have a tattoo, and won’t pay it any special attention unless you ask.
He loves you because of your personality, your physical appearance had nothing to do with it.
Your determination, patience, and tenderness are traits that attracted him to you.
But if you have a tattoo of anything cow related...
He may feel a bit smug
His lover has his symbolic animal tattooed on themself, how could he not be?
It practically screams that they’re taken, and taken by him.
Now he doesn’t have to worry about other demons trying to take you from him.
Sometimes, if you’re cuddling, he’ll trace your tattoo(s), a way to soothe you, on the chance you’re stressed/anxious.
Tbh, it calms him down as well.
Knowing that you’re physically there, keeps his anxieties about you leaving at bay.
Probably the brother that is most angry when someone insults your appearance.
“Y/n, others have no right to judge you based on your physical appearance. It’s your body, and no one else should control how you make yourself look.”
#my writing#obey me#obey me x reader#obey me scenario#obey me headcanon#obey me lucifer#obey me satan#obey me mammon#mammon x reader#satan x reader#lucifer x reader#obey me asmodeus#asmodeus x reader#obey me leviathan#leviathan x reader#belphegor x reader#obey me belphegor#obey me beelzebub#beelzebub x reader
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Intrinsic: Jameson in Therapy
Prompt from Anon: If you're still taking prompts... "Have you tried NOT doing that?"
CW: Noncon survivor discussing future consensual spice, Jameson’s masochism, frank references to noncon and pet whump, brief internal victim-blaming, world-building detail about WRU
Dr. Berger tucks a bit of graying hair behind one ear, smiling slightly at Jameson from her place in the soft armchair she uses during appointments. “Well,” She says, thoughtful, “have you tried not doing that?”
He looks up at her from where he sits curled up on the long sofa, knees to his chest, picking absently at loose threads across the knee of his baggy blue jeans. As always, she is careful not to let her eyes move to the places where hair is slowly growing back in over bald spots where the straps of a leather muzzle had rubbed, careful not to look at the scars he wears on every inch of exposed skin - she’d made the mistake of being caught looking, however briefly, and had discovered that the newest of her clients was deeply insecure about the visible evidence of his captivity.
She’d apologized, but it had taken time to develop enough trust to come back from her initial mistake. She would not jeopardize that now, after they’ve made so much progress and she’s begun to see a shift in how he talks about and relates to his new life, his world.
He even told her the name he chose for himself, and that he’s been telling the others in the house, one by one. Accepting that it won’t be taken from him like his original name was - that it belongs to him, and is his to share or not.
She would never, ever admit it, but... Jameson is one of her favorite clients to work with. He’s working so hard, every week that they meet he trusts more and more that the path he’s on is one that will move him forward.
“What?”
His voice is slightly rough - someone who has screamed enough to have permanent vocal chord damage, she thinks. She makes a note to speak to Jake Stanton about having a physician check on the potential for nodes or other issues that might pop up later. She’s not a medical doctor, but… well. She’s had a lot of clients with vocal chord damage in the sixteen years she’s been working in the pet lib movement, and you start to pick up on the little signs and symptoms they don’t necessarily declare out loud.
“My question is really just me being a little facetious, I won’t lie, but I do want to talk through the spirit of the question. When you mention feeling guilty that you are having a physical response to your housemate, that you are attracted to them and have been struggling with... well. I’d like to really dig in to where that guilt comes from. Now, I am aware that adjustment houses tend to discourage relationships between household members during their time in residence to cut down on the chance for conflict, but that’s not where your guilt lies, is it?”
He goes back to picking at the hole slowly wearing through his jeans. Dr. Berger waits, giving him the silence and time he needs to think his way through the question and the possible answers. After a long time, he says softly, “No. It’s not. I don’t give a fuck if Stanton wants me to hold somebody’s stupid hand or not.”
She has to force her smile not to widen, wondering if Jameson is aware of just how like Jakob Stanton he really is. No wonder they don’t always get along. “Okay. So can you talk to me about just what you sense of guilt, this worry you feel, is rooted in?”
She watches with some small surprise as the angry, defiant recovering Box Boy who has spoken frankly and openly to her about being maimed, injured, treated as an object, referred to as an animal... blushes.
“I want-... It’s not the, um, the response. That I hate.” He won’t look at her now, and he’s one who loves to stare her down whenever he thinks she’ll be shocked or disgusted by what he has to tell her. But this… this, he’s ashamed or embarrassed to say. “They’re fucking gorgeous, that’s... anybody would like them. It’s… it’s what I want from them that... scares me.”
“You are accustomed to a certain level of unwanted physical attention, it’s not at all uncommon in Romantic rescues to continue to feel sexual attraction and desire after freedom-”
“No. It’s. It’s not that I-... I know that’s normal. It’s… I want…” He shifts, uneasily. “I want… I want Allyn to hurt me.”
The last sentence is whispered. It’s not sharing a thought, it’s confessing what he feels is some kind of sin he is committing or intending to commit. Dr. Berger sometimes feels like a priest in a confessional booth, although she’s never been one to suggest atonement - no, fear of oneself is where the core of most of her clients’ pain lies, in her experience. Instead, she works on reconstructing the impulse or fear from its foundations, breaking apart the horror of its weight and reconfiguring it so it’s easier to understand.
To take control of, to direct.
She helps them to own themselves, not to fear the prospect but to see in it freedom they have always deserved.
Fear is the absolute last thing any of her clients should ever have to feel again. They have been taught to devalue and debase themselves, to fear what their bodies can be made to do. If she does nothing else, Dr. Berger hopes she is able to help them be just a little less afraid of the bodies they live in.
“You want your housemate to hurt you?” She asks, gently. “Do you mean in the sense of a serious injury, or…”
“No. Um. No, I fucking… I think about them, um. Hurting-... like… like they used to do. Biting me, or... or scratching... I th-think sometimes about Allyn h-holding a... never mind. Just. Hurting me. I’m-... made to be hurt.”
“You are made only to be yourself,” Dr. Berger reminds him, her voice low and without any hint of judgement. “We’ve talked about your captors before and how you were held. You believe that you were made into a masochist as part of your training, and so you’re frightened that your mind is thinking about your housemate in ways similar to how you were once forced to think about your captors.”
His nose wrinkles - he’s more dismissive than most of the language she uses, and early on delighted in insisting on using words like owner, handler, master. Things he thought might shock her. But Dr. Berger has heard nearly everything she thinks there might be to hear, by now. She only smiles slightly at his expression, jotting quickly down on her notepad a few notations.
Finally, he offers hesitantly, “I-I guess. Allyn is… good. They’re soft, and nice, and they’d never-... but I want them to. And it’s-... it would make-... them be like Robert, or… wouldn’t it? It’d be… treating them like… I don’t ever want to be what I was again, so why the fuck can’t I stop thinking about it?”
He is so rarely vulnerable. Dr. Berger doesn’t take for granted the gift he gives her by letting her see past the wall of anger and derision he has built to keep himself safe. In many ways, he reminds her of when she saw Jake Stanton after his own brush with WRU’s handlers and their methods. Bristling, defensive, and with wounds that cannot be bandaged. They instead need to be exposed to the light.
“Intrusive thoughts that contain elements of your captivity are absolutely normal. You are still in the early stages of making progress, and progress is never linear, Jameson. There is no starting line, no ribbon at the end of the race. There is only moving forward, bit by bit, even if sometimes we move back.”
“You mean I move back,” He says, sullen now. “You don’t do shit. You’re already fine.”
“Mmmn, that’s not… quite accurate. I actually see someone myself, you know.” Dr. Berger smiles at his obvious, visible surprise. “My mentor once told me he never trusted a provider of therapy who did not themselves seek it out. I have my own progress to work towards, just as you have yours.”
“Problems are probably real fucking different, though.”
“Well, that’s true.” She allows herself a warm laugh - and is rewarded when he doesn’t bristle or assume mockery like he used to, but relaxes and even gives her a very small smile in return. “But I would advise you not to compare yourself to others. Your situation, while not unique in some ways, is still unique to you. You’ve been through a kind of horror that no one else has - even if others have experienced some similarities, the traumatic events they experienced will never be entirely like yours.”
He nods.
“But-” She holds up one finger “That doesn’t mean we can’t use what we know as a framework, a foundation you can build your own way on. Think of an ancient Roman road paved into a highway in modern Italy, for instance. The foundation was there, a path laid by people who came through before. But you can take what you need and use it to find your own way. I know that you’re scared of your thoughts, I know that you are frightened of wanting to find gratification or satisfaction in pain because you think it means a return to how you were treated before, or that you are inherently changed in damaging ways by your captivity, but…”
When she trails off, he leans slightly forward “But?”
She chooses her words carefully. “Jameson, would you be willing to consider something that may make you a little uncomfortable?”
He looks at her, depths of feelings in his brown eyes, and slowly nods. “Why not? I’m already fucking uncomfortable. All the time.”
His thin shoulders under the oversized band shirt he wears make angles under the fabric as he shrugs, although in the time she’s been seeing them those sharp edges have already begun to round out, the lines of his jaw and cheekbones are softening.
She’s seen it over and over again, the physical changes reflecting the rebuilding of an entire life. It never ceases to amaze her, how hard each and every one of them works.
“Okay. This may be hard to hear at first but I think it will help you.”
Eventually he nods. “Yeah,” He half-rasps. “Yeah, okay. Just say it. Everything… everything else you’ve said has helped. Go ahead.”
“Okay. So, what I would like you to consider… perhaps what you see as an enforced flaw, a crack that was put into you, a danger you present to your housemate due to your conditioning and mistreatment… it might be in fact an intrinsic part of your sexual expression, and simply an aspect of your attraction to them, and the wish you stated to me to perhaps escalate your current relationship.”
He swallows. The color drains from his face, except for two spots of bright red high along his cheekbones. “What?” His lips barely move.
“Jameson…” Her tone dips, reassuring and soothing. “I know what you were told. I know you were likely given a series of half-truths and whole lies designed to engender dependence and teach you to loathe yourself and therefore disconnect from your body. But… that body? It’s very real, and it’s entirely yours. I think that we need to look into the possibility that you already had certain tendencies that were exploited and twisted. Those tendencies are not inherently unhealthy or damaging if you learn to pursue them in a safe environment.”
He blinks, once, twice, his eyes glittering.
She’s made a misstep and she knows it immediately, clear as the tears Jameson never allows to fall. She didn’t time it quite right. They should have spent more time working up to it…
“Are you saying I’m just-... like this?”
“Not the way you are suggesting,” Dr. Berger says softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t express myself clearly enough. Please let me elaborate a little.”
“I fucking hope you d-didn’t mean that I’m-... that I’m just fucked up,” He says, looking away from her, down at the floor. She pretends she doesn’t see one hand go up to curve around the side of his neck, recreating some of the weight of the collar they are so often taught to rely on for a sense of safety.
“I absolutely did not mean that. One thing WRU excels at - one of the reasons they have been so successful - is that they utilize very effective techniques that encourage a sense of complicity and responsibility in the people they abuse and violate. I’m going to hazard a guess that you were told that you chose what happened to you.”
“I signed up for this,” Jameson whispers automatically, rote and robotic, without hesitation. At least, Dr. Berger thinks, she’s been doing this job long enough that hearing that no longer gets to her like it used to. “I wanted to be some rich asshole’s-”
“Yes. That. One way I think they are able to convince so many individuals so thoroughly isn’t only because of the standard methods of sleep and nutritional deprivation, the repetition, memorizing, the mistreatment… no, I think one thing WRU does is find in each of its victims a core truth they can exploit and cause you to fear in yourself, making you more vulnerable to the idea that this company is somehow saving or helping you by ‘making use’ of it. They find your weak point and use it to shatter you, but what WRU never realizes is that the very weakness they exploit is also often the same piece of you we can recover, that we can reclaim. In your case… Jameson, have you ever heard of consensual masochism?”
He’s hooked, she thinks, on this line of logic. On the lifeline she’s thrown him, something to grab onto. A way to begin to believe, in some small way, that he isn’t ruined. They all think they’ve been ruined, by the time she meets them.
None of them is.
“No, I-I haven’t. Does this mean… there are people like me who aren’t, you know, fucktoys-”
“Recovering Romantics,” She corrects, gently. “And yes. Masochism is a not-uncommon mode of expression that many people engage in consensually in the context of healthy sexual expression.”
He swallows, hard. She watches his throat move. Sees the look in his eyes, the minute changes in his expression. The hand pushing against the side of his neck slowly drops. She can see the gears turning within him, a shifting point of view maybe. She can see what he doesn’t want to speak out loud.
There’s another silence. This one is more comfortable, and as always she gives him all the time he needs.
“How-” His voice cracks, and he clears his throat, blinking rapidly again. His knees slowly uncurl and his feet, clad in old hand-me-down sneakers, find their way to flat on the floor. Without his ever-present scowl, he looks years younger. Terrified.
Hopeful.
“How can I-... how do I-...” He takes a deep breath. “If it’s just… part of me… how do I make it safe?”
-
@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @whump-tr0pes @raigash @moose-teeth @orchidscript @doveotions @pretty-face-breaker @eatyourdamnpears @boxboysandotherwhump @vickytokio @whumpfigure @outofangband @downriver914 @justabitofwhump @thehopelessopus @butwhatifyouwrite @yet-another-heathen @nonsensical-whump
#whump#recovery whump#referenced pet whump#recovering whumpee#wru#bbu#box boy#box boy universe#masochism tw#condtioning#deconditioning#jameson bb#dr. berger#trauma recovery#noncon survivor navigating consensual spice#referenced consensual spice#referenced noncon#internalized victim-blaming#whumpees in therapy
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Hello, may I request a Merthur ficlet where they’re teens during war ish times and they dance to O Children I just know you’re a potter head and thus there is no way you don’t know which scene I’m referring to 🤧 (Also I’m actually frequently on your page and we’ve interracted and I’m so fun and quirky that I decided to go anon for this one just to spice things up hoho) BONUS POINTS for soft cheek touching and sweet first kissing but whatever yk not that important 👉🏼👈🏼
This is a hilariously late reply to this prompt. Thank god tumblr doesn’t put dates on asks, because I’d be too embarrassed to post this ficlet. Anyways. I had to look up this scene lol, but it was very cute and I loved this idea. Soft cheeks kisses here we goooooooo.
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The radio on Merlin’s shoulder crackled, and he quickly turned it down. The forest was quiet, and Merlin’s magic hadn’t detected anything besides animals in a mile radius, but that didn’t mean he was going to let a radio give away his position. He crouched down and waited for a minute, listening to the sounds of the forest around him. The pack of supplies dug into his shoulder, but with only a mile left to go, he knew he had better keep it on his back and feel the relief later, rather than try to get it back on his sore back.
With another quick spell to ensure that no one was around, Merlin continued on his route. His boots crunched in the autumn leaves and the air was crisp. Merlin could feel the magic in the forest like electricity before a storm.
There was limited access to electricity in the forest, it was mostly used for lights and any emergency medical equipment that Gaius needed. Otherwise everyone endured without it and magic was used when it wasn’t being used to defend the camp. Before the war, the thought of living without constant electricity seemed unreal, but after three years of living in the forest and running supplies between encampments, it was hard for Merlin to remember what life was like before.
When Merlin pictured the end of the war, the only luxuries he longed for was a warm bed and a large bath. Mostly he wished for his people to be free once again.
When Merlin entered the edge of the camp, he felt the wards shimmer around his form. Although invisible to most people, Merlin could always see the magic, it glimmered in the light like dust motes in a sunbeam. As soon as he passed through the wards he heard the commotion. His hackles raised and instinctually looked around for danger, before he realized that the sound wasn’t screams of fear but rather the raucous sounds of celebration.
The supplies tent was at the back of the encampment, where it could best be protected. Merlin wound his way around the tents until he found the large green tent. When he stepped inside, he was greeted by a young Druid woman, Ferridel.
“What’s happened?”
“Oh Merlin, you’ve returned. The battalion came back with news of victory while you were gone. We’ve taken the valley.”
Merlin nodded, his heart racing in his chest. Too many questions to ask, he was left dumb.
Merlin dropped off the supplies, but he was too anxious to stay and speak with Ferridel. He rushed to the center of camp, where a large bonfire was blazing and soldiers were gathered with tankards in hand. Their coats and rifles were strewn about the benches around the bonfire. Some soldiers raised their hands in greeting, but Merlin was looking for a familiar face.
“Looking for someone?”
Merlin whipped around to see exactly who he was looking for.
“Arthur,” Merlin said, his breath leaving him in a whisper.
Arthur smiled, looking far too pleased with himself as he cocked his head to one side. “You look awful, Merlin. What have you been doing? Rolling in the dirt while we fight this war?”
“You’re an ass,” Merlin said, but his harsh words were soon softened as he engulfed Arthur in a tight embrace. Arthur’s arms wrapped around him and he could feel Arthur shake a little. Despite his bravado, Arthur wasn’t a fool. Every time he stepped onto that battle field, it could be the end. Merlin knew that when Arthur left last month, it could have been his last time seeing his best friend’s smile.
Arthur pulled back and gripped Merlin’s shoulder, “Now you look like a man who could use a nice glass of scotch.”
“You have scotch?” Merlin said.
Arthur tilted his head towards the residential tents. “Come on,” He tugged on Merlin’s jacket.
Before Merlin knew it, Arthur had gotten Merlin a warm basin of water and a large pile of food. As Captain of the battalion, Arthur was granted some privileges, and usually Merlin would tell Arthur he was a spoiled prince for it, but now the warm water felt nice and the Merlin was starving. When he was travelling between encampments Merlin usually only ate jerky and whatever bread hadn’t gone stale.
As Merlin ate, Arthur told him about the battle. He was brief, very limited in his details. Merlin was grateful. He hated hearing about battle plans but he also knew that for every positive note Arthur said about the battle, there was a price they had paid. Merlin knew that as the men celebrated their victory, they also mourned their fallen brethren.
“So where is this infamous scotch?”
Arthur smiled, crooked and sly. He opened up a trunk and pulled aside clothes that cushioned a large bottle of amber liquid. Merlin raised his brow. Alcohol was hard to come by nowadays. Merlin ran essential supplies between encampments, and alcohol was rarely on that list.
Arthur cut the wax seal with his pocket knife and poured a heavy serving for both of them.
“To victory,” Arthur raised his glass.
“To freedom,” Merlin said, and clanked his glass against Arthur’s.
The scotch was warm as it ran down his throat. He coughed, not used to the feeling anymore. Arthur laughed at him and pounded his back. They drank and told each other stories of friends and foes alike. They talked about before the war and they dreamed about afterwards. Soon enough, both of them were laughing in drunken delight. Perhaps on a different night the scotch would have made them somber. But not tonight, after an essential victory.
Music had started to play outside and Merlin could hear the shuffle of people dancing and drunkenly singing along to the music.
Arthur stood on unsteady feet, a warm smile on his face as he reached for Merlin.
“What are you doing?” Merlin laughed as Arthur hauled him to his feet.
“Dance with me, Merlin,” Arthur whined, pouting like a spoiled child.
“You don’t want to see me dance, Arthur. You know how clumsy I am.”
“That’s not true,” Arthur pouted. His hands had settled on Merlin’s waist. He was warm from the alcohol, and it burned Merlin to be this close to the sun. “You’re not clumsy when you do magic. Come on, do some magic for me.”
“You’re such a spoiled prat.” Merlin held his hands against Arthur’s chest, but did not push him away. Despite his words, Merlin was not one to deny Arthur anything, especially when he was inebriated. So he let his magic loose. Dozens of small lights filled the tent, bobbing in the air like fireflies.
“Beautiful,” Arthur said, but he hadn’t turned his head to look at the lights.
The song outside was slow, but the tune was uplifting. Arthur took Merlin’s hands off his chest, cradling one in his palm and the other he slid up so that it rested against Arthur’s shoulder. They danced, albeit horribly, but nonetheless they did dance. Merlin stumbled over his own feet and Arthur did not know how to keep a beat, but they laughed and that was more important than skill.
As the music dwindled, they heard cheers outside. Someone was speaking to the crowd by the bonfire. Then someone started playing a somber tune, the same they always played at the end of any victory or defeat. They lost men, no matter the outcome. Their mood had changed just as quickly as the songs had changed.
Merlin felt his throat close up. He reached up to touch Arthur’s face, cradling his jaw in his palm.
“Thank the gods,” Merlin said, the rest of his sentence stuck in his throat. The thought of losing Arthur was too overwhelming, any words to express it were lost to Merlin.
“I’m right here,” Arthur said, holding Merlin’s wrist, “I’ll always be here.”
Merlin shook his head, “You can’t promise that.”
“I’ll always come back to you.”
Merlin shook his head, feeling tears run down his cheek even as he closed his eyes against them. He was always an easy crier, and usually Arthur would make fun of him for it. But Arthur stayed silent this time.
“Oh, Merlin. I hate when you do this…” Arthur shook off Merlin’s hand and cradled Merlin’s face in his own hands, wiping the tears with his thumbs. “I fight this war for you… For your freedom. For your happiness. One day, I will never see you cry again.”
Before Merlin could answer, Arthur leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to Merlin’s cheek and then pulled away and kissed the other, right at the edge of his lips.
Merlin gripped Arthur’s wrists, his eyes flickering between Arthur’s trying to read his expression. But he was so grimmly serious, as if Arthur was vowing that he would fight every enemy soldier himself just to protect Merlin.
“Live through this war...that’s what will make me happy.”
“I will,” Arthur vowed with a solemn nod.
Just a few inches of air separated them, but they felt like miles. Arthur looked Merlin in the eye, and then down, and before Merlin could register what was happening, Arthur was kissing him. Merlin gripped him tight, feeling Arthur’s hands tighten on his jaw.
Arthur pulled back, “Is this...? Are you alright with…?”
“And you say I talk too much,” Merlin said, and shut him up with a kiss.
***
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Behave
Notes: For the anon request. The request was slightly vague, so I tried to improvise a little. I hope you like the result! ^^
Summary: Shizuo has a habit of picking Izaya up whenever he tries to stir up trouble, to mischievous results.
Causing general mayhem and disaster was one of Izaya’s favorite activities, and Ikebukuro was one of his favorite cities to do so in. The chance of bumping into some kind of natural disaster was almost inevitable, and on the rare occasion of peace among the streets, Izaya was always willing to stir something up himself. Sometimes this something could be the beginnings of a gang war. And sometimes it was merely messing with small children.
Life was full of surprises that way.
“And just what do we have here?” Izaya inquired, folding his hands in front of himself as he stopped before a group of children gathered on the park asphalt. There were three of them, a young girl with a box of chalk clutched protectively to her chest, and two boys, who had previously been drawing out an outline for hop-scotch, who both looked to be about a year or so older than her.
The first boy glanced up at his comment, shooting him a suspicious glance. “Playing a game,” he answered stiffly, clearly waiting for the man to say anything in the negative about it.
“So I can see,” Izaya agreed, surveying the scene before them. “Hop-scotch… I remember playing that game as a kid. How do the rules work again?”
“Well—” the girl started hesitantly, but before she could say anything more, Izaya had begun hopping from one foot to the next over the squares provided. He wobbled a bit as he went, all with an assured smile. For his finale, he jumped forward with both feet, landing on the discarded pieces of chalk and cracking two of them easily.
“Hey!” the girl cried, eyes widening. “I just got those!”
“Oh!” Izaya clucked his tongue, placing his hands on his hips as he surveyed his work. “Well that will never do. I guess we’ll just have to break the other ones to match. Would you terribly mind handing over that box?”
The girl hid the box quickly behind her back, which wasn’t the smartest of defensive moves but it was all she had. The second boy appeared to be taking in the scene cautiously, clearly not wanting to get himself involved. The first one however, took an angry step forward, glaring up at him.
“Leave her alone!” he protested, portraying a level of bravado he didn’t feel. “Or I’ll—I’ll—”
“You’ll… what?” Izaya inquired, leaning down to face him with a devastating smirk. “No, continue, I’m truly curious—what exactly could you do?”
The boy stammered over his words, trying to think of any kind of witty reply but coming up blank.
“Leave the kid alone.”
Izaya sprang up, whirling around at the sound of the telltale voice. “Shizu-chan~! So nice of you to drop by. Decided to enjoy the spring day as well?”
One hand shoved carelessly in his pocket, Shizuo Heiwajima stood bathed in the gentle lamplight of the sun, surveying the scene casually. In place of his usual angry scowl, however, there was a bored, almost dismissive look on his face, as though dealing with Izaya’s shit simply wasn’t worth his time. Instead of answering, he stalked over to the other with quick, forceful steps, until they were inches away.
Izaya staggered back a little, taken by surprise by the direct approach. He opened his mouth to say something, but before he could Shizuo had leaned down, grabbing Izaya around the waist, and hauled him over his shoulder. Izaya squawked in an undignified manner, gripping onto the back of Shizuo’s shirt for support.
Shizuo kicked the broken pieces of chalk back over to the children with a grunted, “here”, before turning around and heading off in the opposite direction, Izaya in tow.
By this point a burning crimson had begun to overtake Izaya’s features, and he could see the faces of the children from his vantage point, all of whom seemed delighted to see him in the embarrassing position. “You know, you can’t simply pick me up whenever you feel like it,” he huffed, reaching back in an attempt to swat at the back of the other’s head.
“Oh?” Shizuo easily avoided him as Izaya struggled to maneuver his arm in the right position. “And what exactly are you going to do about it?” he asked, parroting Izaya’s earlier words.
Izaya narrowed his eyes. He kicked one of his legs out, aiming to get a direct hit at his stomach. Unfortunately, legs do not generally go in that direction and he primarily ending up flailing around a lot and sometimes hitting the other’s arm in the process. This was not troublesome all on its own (Shizuo had definitely endured far worse from the flea), but it did prompt an idea. The next time one of Izaya’s legs came too near his face, he grabbed it with his other hand, gripping his fingers into the denim protecting the backs of his thighs.
Izaya let out a strangled noise, managing to somehow disguise it as a cough at the last moment. Shizuo’s hand remained on his thigh, his fingers gently tapping where they curled around his leg. Izaya’s breath caught in his throat as he realized suddenly how very, very fucked he was.
“S-Shizuo,” he said, trying as desperately as he could to keep his growing panic out of his voice. “I really think you should let me down now.”
“What’s wrong?” Shizuo asked calmly, his fingers tapping out a rhythm of doom against his jeans, each and every one causing Izaya to twitch against his will. “You sound suddenly concerned. Is something bothering you?”
“Shizuo, not again,” Izaya gritted out. Memories were flooding back to him of a week ago, causing butterflies to excite uninvited in his stomach. “If you think you can simply pick me up like a common stray and t—” he broke off, pressing his lips together into a firm, irritated line.
“And what?” Shizuo questioned, tossing a teasing glance back at him. Amusement danced in his eyes, and never had Izaya wished to punch him more than in that moment. “What exactly is it that I can’t do?”
“I believe you know perfectly well what I mean,” Izaya replied with a sickeningly pleasant smile. “After all, seeing as it has for some reason become one of your favorite activities to do to me, I dearly hope you know what it is.”
“And I would hope you know what it is, considering you appear to love it so much,” Shizuo shot back, pinching the back of his thigh suddenly.
“I w—shit!” Izaya lurched forward, his body’s instinctual response to save himself from the sensation. His arms flailed wildly, searching for a handhold, and eventually clinging onto the back of Shizuo’s shirt. Shizuo stiffened, trying to ignore the strangely pleasant shudder that ran down his spine as Izaya’s fingers brushed his back. He shook it off, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand.
Shizuo outlined a path of small pinches down the back of Izaya’s thigh, making the man jerk and squirm with each one, though he managed to stifle any noises this time. Once he had gotten Izaya properly ramped up, he removed his hand entirely, giving the other a momentary reprieve.
Izaya exhaled slowly, glad for the break. After a moment of nothing happening however, he threw a confused glance back at the other. “Are you done t—ahAHAHAHA, ohohoho shIHIHIHIHihihit!”
Izaya burst into wild, uncontrolled laughter as Shizuo suddenly dug his fingers into his thigh, pressing into just the right pressure points to make the other go positively mad. His hand came back instinctively to try to rip Shizuo’s hand away from the spot, but his current position prevented him from doing so. The sudden, intensive tickling caused a hysteria that weakened Izaya instantly, his eyes crinkling up into a series of wild giggles and shrieks, a euphoria he didn’t often allow himself to feel lighting up in his chest. His legs kicked out with reckless abandon, but nothing he attempted saved himself from the relentless attack.
Just as suddenly as he had initiated it, Shizuo stopped, allowing his hand to merely rest on the other’s leg. Izaya wheezed helplessly, burying his face in the back of the other’s shirt. His skin tingled with phantoms of the earlier attack.
“I’m sorry, you were going to say something?” Shizuo asked innocently.
Izaya weakly lifted his head, shooting back a venomous glare. “You utter ahahAHAHASSHOLE, nohohoho, nOHOHOT AHAHAhagain!”
Izaya fell back into hysterics as Shizuo once again started up with his thighs. It was a testament to Shizuo’s skill that he was able to keep a firm hold on Izaya whilst torturing him, all the while continuing to stroll through the streets as though nothing was happening. By this point, people had started to stare, dumbfounded by the sight of a grown man thrashing and howling with laughter, hoisted like a misbehaving child over another man’s shoulder.
“S-Shihihihizuo!” Izaya squawked, pounding his fist against the other’s back. “StahAHAHAP IHIHIHIT!”
“Sure,” Shizuo agreed, smirking as his fingers found a particularly unfortunate spot that had Izaya screeching. “Just say, ‘Shizuo is superior to me in every way’. You can do that, can’t you?”
“F-FuhuhUHUHUCK YOHOhohou!”
Shizuo clucked his tongue in disappointment. “I’m afraid that’s not it. Want to try again?”
Izaya tried. He really did. He used every ounce of self-control he had to try to either bear the sensations wracking his body or to somehow escape from Shizuo’s hold. But the embarrassing position combined with the results of a death spot being targeted in such an effective manner eventually did him in and he cracked.
“OhOHOHOKAY! OHOHohohohokay!” Izaya cried, frantic giggles interspersing his words. “S-Shihihizuo ihihis—ahAHAHAha, nohohoho wahahait—Shihihizuo—gahAHAHA! Gihihive mehehehe ahahahaha seHEHEHEHehecond!”
Shizuo reluctantly complied, momentarily stilling his hand. Izaya panted heavily, attempting to get any amount of air back. Once he’d finally regained enough breath to speak any semblance of coherent words, he raised his head and grinned back at the other. “Shizuo is… a fool for thinking I’d ever say anything inherently false as that. Sorry, try again next time.”
Shizuo’s confident smirk quickly transformed into an irritated scowl. “You little—” Instantly there were hands at his thighs again, only this time he attacked the other one which had thus far received no attention from their little game. Izaya let out an honest-to-god squeak, unprepared for the switch. He pulled at Shizuo’s shirt, needing a handhold as he faced the unbearable sensations. As he did so, however, he noticed the way his tugging had ridden Shizuo’s shirt up slightly, revealing the bare skin of his lower back and hips.
Izaya was struck with a sudden idea.
Shizuo flinched as he felt two hands grab onto his hips, fingers curling into the skin in a manner that was unmistakably ticklish. His hand faltered on Izaya’s thigh as his lips tugged into a reluctant grin, a couple growled giggles escaping him.
“I-Izaya,” he threatened, still holding onto Izaya but doing little else besides that. “Whatever you’re thinking, don’t.”
“Why?” Izaya teased, scratching his hips once more and feeling the man shudder beneath him. “Feeling a bit nervous now that the situations have reversed?”
“I’ll drop you,” Shizuo threatened.
“I’m not worried,” Izaya dismissed, clearly having fun with the sudden power dynamic. “Haven’t you heard? Cats always land on their feet.”
“Mind if I test that theory?”
“Now, now, no need to be grumpy.” Izaya squeezed his hips again and Shizuo choked on a stifled giggle. “I get it. You can dish it out, but you can’t take it. It’s fine, really. I’ll just be using it to my advantage now, is all.”
“L-Like hell you are!” Shizuo stammered, attempting to pull Izaya off his shoulders. Izaya yelped, grabbing onto Shizuo’s hips for support, causing the man to stumble forwards, releasing him in one go. With a startled cry, Izaya tumbled off his shoulders, and Shizuo jerked around, just managing to catch him by the arm as he hit the ground. It wasn’t a complete save (and Izaya would be complaining about being sore for days after), but it did prevent him from slamming into the concrete.
Izaya stared up at Shizuo, panting a little, his gaze focused on the place where Shizuo still gripped his arm. With a cough, Shizuo quickly released him, straightening up. “Are you…” he started slowly, rubbing the back of his neck uncertainly. “Okay?”
Izaya blinked, at a momentary loss for what to say, before his usual smirk returned to him. “Of course I’m okay, dear Shizu-chan. More than okay, at that.” He clambered to his feet, dusting off his jeans and trying not to focus on how his tailbone ached from slamming into the ground. “Because now I know your weakness, locked away in my brain for all eternity. But don’t worry—I’ll only use it against you as often as you’ve used mine against me. Now if you don’t mind, I really have some important business to be attending to, and must take my leave. Farewell, my dear brute.”
He saluted the other mockingly, whirling on his heel and quickly walking away. Shizuo’s frown of confusion as he watched him go quickly transformed into one of irritation. “You bastard, get back here!” he exclaimed, taking chase after him. “Who said you get to have the last word, huh?”
Izaya laughed merrily as he sprinted ahead, the two quickly disappearing into the chaos of the city. No matter what happened, nothing ever really changed between the two. One info broker, one bodyguard, locked together in continuous battle.
And as Izaya rounded the next corner sharply, his smirk turning into something almost giddy from the chase, he found he didn’t really mind if it meant he could hold the beast’s attention for even a moment longer.
#tickle fic#fic request#shizaya#durarara#durarara!!#shizuo heiwajima#izaya orihara#tickling#fanfic#fanfiction#requests
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scenario request: enemies to lovers au! w atsumu, ✨ thank you 💛
paper daisy chains — miya atsumu
5.5k words | genre/s: fluff, a little angst, enemies to lovers!au | warning/s: language, lots of arguing | pairing: atsumu x gn!reader
↪︎ in which three hours of detention leads to your hatred for your former best friend to fall apart all due to a kiss
a/n: you had me at enemies to lovers anon 😏 ngl tho this is not my best work considering i procrastinated on writing this and i needed to post something today ✨
in a mere afterthought—after everything had gone to shit already, it was then you had some forming recuperation of the situation you were in despite always finding a chance to snake your way out was no longer in your hands. so, perhaps you could have handled the situation a little bit better. emphasis on ‘little’ as there was very little you could do about your absolute hatred for miya atsumu and that sly grin on his face.
it wasn’t like this before–this messy relationship between you and atsumu. if anything, you were the bestest friends in middle school, by each other’s side like you were stuck together with glue. yet a single assumption ruined it all, tearing everything down into nothingness.
did you sometimes yearn for things to go back to the way they were before? the simple answer was yes, but your pride would never let atsumu know.
“as for you (y/l/n) (y/n), atsumu is now sporting a broken nose after you punched him during lunch.” the principle states matter-of-factually which earned a quiet scoff from behind you.
despite not standing directly next to you, atsumu was still far too close for your liking as his right shoulder often brushed against you at every small and sudden movement. you could practically feel his breath grazing the exposed part of your neck. however, you couldn’t exactly blame the setter no matter how much you wanted to as both your teacher and his coach had sandwiched you two together.
“disrespectful little swine that one.” inarizaki’s coach grunts loudly towards you, “you oughta teach that one a lesson before she hurts my starting setter again before nationals!”
you flashed the man a toothy grin as you grit them together. he always had an odd way of speaking, “yes, of course, it’s completely my fault for defending myself.” you deadpanned with your own sarcasm of poisonous venom, surprising almost everyone in the office—everyone except atsumu of course. if anything, he’s the only one still smirking in amusement while all the adults had their faces all contorted.
however, his eyes did widen a bit as he looked at you the moment you smirked up at him with proud delight written across your pretty face.
your teacher cleared his throat, elbowing you slightly in the ribs discretely. “my student didn’t mean that, sir.” he excuses, quickly giving you a warning look as a sign for you to apologize.
“i’m really sorry,” you weren’t sorry.
the principle simply smiled at your scornful apology that left your lips in the most condescending manner. he then switched his gaze back to the atsumu’s coach who has been arguing against the old man for a good fifteen minutes on only punishing you and not atsumu as it ‘wasn’t his fault,’ but you hadn’t been listening. why would you, anyway? in the end, you were going to get the short end of the stick once again with atsumu getting away with everything. from his annoying teases to his backhanded compliments that caused him a blow right on his nose in the first place will never be called out.
enter atsumu’s twin, osamu, through the office doors. to your surprise he (in a way) defended your case by saying that atsumu was provoking you all day. so, you and atsumu were both in the wrong. then again, that’s what happens between two enemies since middle school.
“based on what osamu has said, i have no choice but to give them both detention.” the principle concludes, “atsumu and (y/n) will be on cleaning duty in the library for the time being.”
“if you don’t mind me commenting,” the coach exclaims, drawing himself up to perhaps argue for the umpteenth time again, “atsumu has volleyball practice to—”
the principle immediately cuts him off, “there’s nothing i can do about it.”
“can’t he serve detention after nationals?” he tries to express once more but is cut off yet again.
“then that goes against our policy of having no behavioral issues in order to go on field trips.”
“then it is decided,” your teacher confirms with a nod. even he was getting a bit tired on this back and forth. “i’ll make sure both students will report to the library the moment the final bell rings, sir.”
great.
there was always something unnerving about the after school noon at inarizaki as you teetered on the edge of boredom and monotony. and that’s saying a lot considering you spent the majority of your time after classes secluded in your own room or wandering the streets of hyogo by yourself instead of going to club activities. you’d come to think that maybe, in the absolute inevitability that for once atsumu’s company would be much better than being alone, but you were wrong. so incredibly wrong.
you would much rather stay locked up in your bedroom all day than be stuck mopping the library floors and dusting off the shelves upon shelves of textbooks and novels.
a sigh escapes from your lips as you bring your gaze up to atsumu on the other end of the aisle, his tall figure reached at the tops of each book shelf as he dusted them off haphazardly while you too care of the bottom layers. it was understandable though as the task was not only tedious but simply counterproductive. the shelves were going to get all dusty again weren’t they? granted, punishment was punishment no matter how futile and impractical.
the library’s fluorescent lights had created shadows upon atsumu’s face, creating deep grooves and shadows upon his jaw and cheeks that perhaps you didn’t think he looked absolutely repulsive for once (even with the bandage on his broken nose).
you lift yourself from your crouched position and brushed any lingering dust off of your uniform, which at this point was a bit unkempt from the light labor you were forced to do. approaching the preoccupied setter, the rag within your hand was tossed back and forth between your left and right.
however, your eyebrows furrowed as you stopped only a few feet shy away from atsumu who should at least be sensing your presence at this point. he always had a knack of being aware of where you were and honestly you found it plain creepy. your gaze fell upon the rag in your hand, shrugging to yourself before chucking it at atsumu’s face.
the setter’s expression contorted slightly in confusion as the piece of cloth smacked him on the side of his cheek before falling onto the floor. his gaze followed the rag before turning his stare towards you.
“i’m bored,” you sighed out in a mutter with little to no emotion coating your words.
“me too,” he replies, crouching down to pick up the rag before tossing it to you lightly. you caught it within your hands as you feign the look of surprise on your visage. you honestly expected him throw it as hard as he could, but he didn’t. “the faster we get this done the faster we get to go home–or whatever you do after school like wander around hyogo or something.”
you nod, yet curiosity stroked you. how would he know about that? gently placing one foot in front of the other, you steered closer to the boy. “and how would you know i do that everyday after school?”
it was then, you could finally feel the striking tension between the two of you. as if it was heat emanating and merging simply from the proximity you two were standing, a beat had passed again the moment you confirmed that whatever answer atsumu was going to give you would be complete and utter bullshit.
“just to make sure you were safe,” he mutters so nonchalantly. something so out of his character, especially for you would obviously be more alarming than a simple shrug and a brow raise.
your arms braided over each other, your gaze hardening by the second. “safe?” you repeat in disbelief that was accompanied with a scoff, “that’s rich, miya, anymore shitty lies you want to tell me before i could ruin that pretty face of yours again?”
a smirk had fallen on his lips as he flickered you an entertained look. “so, you think i’m pretty?”
you roll your eyes, turning your back towards him. you knew talking to him was a stupid idea and if only your teacher didn’t force you to try to make amends during detention with him, you wouldn’t have to feel your brain cells deteriorate every time you look his way. so much for taking sensei’s words into consideration into making friends with him again when your patience was being tested every five seconds. “whatever,” you scoff for the umpteenth time as you going back to your previous spot.
“the thing is, what i said just then wasn’t a lie.” he concludes while his eyes follow your figure to the other end of the aisle, “but, it’s not like you’d believe me or care for that matter.”
you’re right, i don’t. you thought to yourself, and yet you were still taken aback from the sudden ardor in his tone. it was less of atsumu’s usual bite from his arguments and more of a laceration to the skin, near rather than cutthroat despite both being some form of verbal wound. one hurt more than the other and you were sure atsumu was holding back.
“and what makes you think that?” you question.
atsumu shrugs, “nothing really groundbreaking.” he pauses as his eyes fall upon your expression of nothingness as for once he couldn’t find the right words to say. on the tip of his tongue laid words that would definitely hurt you and that hollow chest of yours, and usually he wouldn’t care just the same as you wouldn’t, yet something was stopping him.
come to think of it, this was one of the rare occasions that you and atsumu were actually alone together. nothing but the confines of the library bookshelves to obstruct you and your enemy. if anything, you and atsumu are constantly surrounded by others who are aware of your mutual resentment towards each other. hell, the only reason why your name was even as near popular as atsumu’s was because you had beef with him that was never serious in the first place. even after the numerous altercations you had since middle school with the blond boy, it was always him who provoked you.
it was almost as if you only kept up your act because that’s all you’re known for in this damn school. and you hated it.
“just the fact that you hate me is the biggest reason.” atsumu adds.
a sarcastic laugh emitted from you as you turned back towards him. you were well aware how priceless your expression looked, all muddied in disbelief and annoyance. “the feeling’s mutual.” you seethed through your teeth, stopping yourself from suddenly dumping fuel to a slow building ember. you had dirt on atsumu, but so did he and you had to be careful in order to play your cards well.
yet atsumu was already one step ahead of you, “you know hiding you emotions and feelings isn’t very healthy, is it?” he evoked. it was starting again and you knew it—from the way he inched closer to you and the way he held that godforsaken smirk on his lips again.
this guy was really asking for it wasn’t he?
a chuckle leaves your lips as you fully face him, your skin pulsated with arising anger, you couldn’t wait for miya atsumu to pull your final strings so you could finally land a punch on his face again. “it’s not like stalking someone after school is any better,” you hissed in the same venom. “i heard that shit can go on your permanent record if you were caught following someone. who knows, miya, maybe you’ll be surprised one day when you’re kicked off the volleyball team all of a sudden—”
“that’s hilarious coming from you, (y/n), you piece of—” atsumu had cut himself off in the midst of his retort, pursing his lips together as his hardened gaze suddenly dropped. “whatever,” he scoffs before turning away.
he let out a frustrated sigh as he attempted to walk back to the other end of the bookshelf so he wouldn’t have to look at your widening smile of provocation on your visage—slick with the taste of ash and synthetic amusement. it covered you in a downpour of emotions, most of which (if not all) were just synonyms of anger and acrimony. your tone was almost elated, drenched in salty irritation that couldn’t wither. you waited for him continue his words knowing damn well he could hit you with something stronger, something that can hurt more.
atsumu had to admit that he wasn’t as nearly as tough as you, though. you were someone that grew up surrounded with constant thunderstorms of a family and had a chest filled with bruising epiphanies waiting to be spewed out if anyone were to ever fuck up. it would’ve been best if he stepped himself away knowing that you both had no crowd to entertain, and yet there was an aching within you that wanted atsumu to continue whatever insult rested on his tongue.
pull that string, miya, i dare you.
“whatever?” you miffed, testing the waters you knew was tainted in tension. “no, please continue what you were about to call me, miya. i’d love to hear a new rendition.”
the setter shook his head as he couldn’t bring himself to meet the fury in your eyes any longer. “i hate how it had to be you,” he muttered under his breath.
“what was that?”
atsumu shook his head, “nothing.”
detention was flying by slower than you had hoped.
within the first hour, you and atsumu had finished all the work assigned simply due to the fact that keeping yourselves busy on opposite sides of the library was best for both of your mental health.
two hours left of detention and boredom was dangerous for the likes of you two. now that you were both situated at the array of desks, it was common sense that some form of dispute between the two of you were bound to happened despite being separated and sitting at your own tables.
stupid atsumu, you thought. he really thought he was sly trying to sneak glances at you every five seconds like he was just waiting to get you riled up. what was his problem anyway? you thought that atsumu was the one who stopped himself from making matters worse earlier but it seems like he wanted to start something again.
you ignored him like you usually do. you were far too busy making a second pair of paper daisy chains and you needed the utmost focus cutting out each individual paper daisy to string into a faux flower crown.
atsumu had some audacity thinking he could keep throwing glances at you when you literally had a pair of scissors in your hand.
“keep staring and you’ll lose all of your piss-blond hair,” you deadpanned. you didn’t even bother to look at him as you were too preoccupied in your latest craft activity to fight your boredom.
however, it wasn’t atsumu’s fault that you were a complete enigma to him. he hated the way his friendship with you ended up like this after one big misunderstanding. sure, the first signs of your wavering friendship on the cusp of the big chasm of hatred you both created started in the middle school, but it truly formed in your first year.
granted, it wasn’t like he was wrong for worrying about you. he thought you were in danger last year when he thought you were getting involved with terrible people and simply reporting any suspicious behavior was his best way to go. the report was anonymous, but after you received the news, you were immediately suspended for a week all because of him. atsumu wasn’t going to negate the fact that perhaps it was his fault, but despite his numerous trials and errors of apologizing to you, it turned into nothing but heated arguments that led to your relationship now. all jagged and broken.
the topic has been taboo since.
atsumu’s gaze left yours, scoffing under his breath as he rolled his eyes. why did it have to be you? it wasn’t like this before, but you were all well aware how stubborn you two were.
you were an absolute wildfire that couldn’t be contained and atsumu was constantly treading over fresh embers that threatened to ignite at any form of friction. he was tired of always having to be careful around you, especially now that you broke his nose, yet he still wanted for things to be different.
“here,” your voice interrupts the tense silence as you toss him a finished paper daisy chain. it landed on his crossed arms, raising an eyebrow of confusion when he picked it up. “give that to osamu.”
atsumu was a bit perplexed to say the least, but he simply sighs to himself before gently placing the flower crown over his temples. “why osamu?” he knew damn well why, “i think it looks better on me.” he mused.
“you look hideous with it on,” you scoff, “besides it’s for your brother for a reason.”
“cause you like him better?”
“no doubt about it.”
(can you believe you liked atsumu more than osamu back in middle school?)
the setter shrugs, “too bad, you gave it to me so it’s mine now.”
“no it’s not, you don’t deserve one.” you say as you stand from your chair that screeched against the dark oak flooring of the library. you try to reach for the flower crown on atsumu’s head, but his hand snatched your wrist before you could grab it.
atsumu’s adams apple bobbed up and down when he realized how close you were, “let. go.” your voice was hushed, yet still spat out your infamous venomous tone.
but he didn’t let go.
“aren’t you tried of it?” atsumu brings up instead.
“tired?”
“of this,” he continued before motioning to each other, “of us having to act like we hate each other everyday?”
you feigned a scoff, yet you couldn’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes to the absolute bullshit coming out of atsumu’s mouth right now. “i’m not acting.”
“well i am,” remarked atsumu before a millisecond could even pass, “i’m tired of having to act like i hate you all the time.”
it was then it seemed like something just cracked within you. lies, lies lies, everything was a lie with atsumu—from the moment he ruined your trust last year to every altercation, big or small, that happened until this point was nothing but lies. you swallowed a lump of pride, fear, and anger collecting in your throat as you let out a huff. “your lies are becoming progressively shittier, you know that right? i don’t need your sorry excuse of sincerity.”
you tugged at your wrist again, this time harder for atsumu to finally let you go, but he wasn’t budging. it wasn’t like you to admit this either, but it was starting to hurt.
“too bad i’m not lying.”
a sigh of frustration left your lips as you felt your anger suddenly swell within you. bottling up your emotions until they exploded was something you were explicitly good at and you could feel the bile rising in your throat, burning you along with words that threatened to spew out of your mouth. “what the fuck is wrong with you? you think that saying that bullshit now is going to make up everything that had ever happened between us?”
“no, I just—”
you didn’t bother to let him speak as you cut him off, “your volleyball fangirls harass me everyday for treating how i treat you, not mention i get constantly watched on like a hawk because of what you did! you made me lose my parents trust after i got suspended and i can’t even go out freely anymore! the only reason why i wander around hyogo alone after school is because that’s the only time i can have to myself since my parents think i have club activities—”
atsumu didn’t mutter a word as he waited for you to continue. he knew there was more inside you yearning to finally be verbalized and he was ready for it to come his way.
“you think i’m acting like i hate you out of pettiness, but that only proves how self-centered you are atsumu,” you huffed, not bothering to pull your wrist out of the setter’s vice-like grip anymore. “for once, i did consider finally letting this whole thing between us go and make amends, but not like this—not when you just keep fucking up and digging yourself a bigger hole.”
a few beats of silence passed between the two of you as you felt the heat rising within your slowly deplete. even atsumu’s hand on your wrist had loosened up a bit, sending a wave of relief within you knowing that you had a chance finally walk away.
“so you’re tired too?” the setter suddenly interjected.
here we go again, you thought with a dejected sigh. “can you—”
his hold around your wrist suddenly tightened again, but not as harsh as before. “answer my question.”
“no.” you pursed your lips together.
“liar.”
“atsumu, please—”
“listen, i’m really sorry about what i did.” the setter expressed, hoping the sincerity in his voice was reaching you. “what i did was fucked up, but just say the word and we can stop everything right here.”
“let go,” you muttered in between, but atsumu only continued.
“no more arguments, we could go back to how we were before or we could start over again—”
“i said let go!”
it was then atsumu’s grip left your wrist and caught your face in between his hands and leaned in.
it wasn’t like this was your first kiss, but it certainly felt like it. granted, this was the first time you kissed some you hate—or rather, someone you’re supposed to hate. you’ve kissed numerous people before, all of which were fueled with nothing but boredom and was nothing more than a simple peck. and yet, this was everything out of the ordinary. you were kissing miya atsumu for fuck’s sake and for once there wasn’t a clear instinct in your body to move away fom him.
your mind blurred so much that the confusion written all over your expression and in your head was muddied by the roaring of your heartbeat. perhaps it was the way atsumu had managed to somehow run his hand from your face and through your hair while the other gently caressed your cheek as if this was how it was supposed to be for ages. it certainly didn’t feel like some cheap thrill atsumu had devised as the way he pulled you closer to him felt like a missing puzzle piece finally being placed.
and for once, you didn’t feel absolutely disgusted when he touched you like this.
it was then when the bandage on atsumu’s healing nose tickled the bridge of yours had suddenly pulled your out of some dream-ridden euphoria. as if it was a reminder that this is what you did. the person who was supposed to be your best friend turned into your enemy after one misunderstanding. he hurt you once and that was the most he did, and yet it only made matters worse when you’ve come to the realization that all of atsumu’s quarrels with you was far less hurtful than what you ever said. they were all for the same reason and that reason was how he felt for you. the feelings had been simmering within him since middle school was finally revealing itself and you’ve been throwing it away for so long.
you didn’t deserve this type of love.
the swift beating of your heart was no longer from the burning sensation of atsumu’s lips against yours, but rather the adrenaline of every single worry tucked in the confines of your head were coming out of their shadows all at once. no matter how intoxicating a forbidden kiss like this felt, you were suffocating beneath the drowning ocean of the unspeakable.
your swollen lips, all tinted red parted slightly before biting down on atsumu’s lip.
“shit!” he suddenly exclaimed, suddenly pulling away to touch the bleeding wound on his bottom lip.
you took this chance to finally get away like you always did. and to your surprise, atsumu didn’t follow you into the labyrinthine aisles of the empty library for once. perhaps this was the one time you were glad that you and atsumu were alone in this huge room as it at least saved you from any humiliation of whatever the fuck just happened.
the inkling within your gut felt familiar, but too peculiar to fully comprehend. yet, with the blush that stretched from your cheeks to your ears still at it’s fullest opacity to the loudness your heartbeat still thumping against your chest and in your ears, it was obviously what the feeling was.
this can’t be happening.
you let out a sigh.
fifteen minutes. that’s all that’s left of the three hours of detention and after this, you were free from the confines of the library walls that suffocated you.
just fifteen more minutes before you can leave and avoid atsumu for the rest of your life. after those fifteen minutes, you would no longer give two shits about inarizaki’s setter and he could no longer confuse you anymore. and all you needed to do was wait in the most obscure corner of the library that most wouldn’t even go to.
the thing is, it was genuinely a good plan, but lately you’ve come to the conclusion that you had been underestimating atsumu for such a long time. this was one of those moments where you believed he would leave once detention was over, and yet he made sure to go through each and every aisle of bookshelves only to find you with your nose stuck in a book to keep you occupied. you didn’t even see him at first, but atsumu was glad you didn’t as he spent a good five minutes forcing himself to stop blushing just by your presence.
and to your (quite unfortunate) luck, here miya atsumu was now—approaching you in all his broken-nosed glory. it certainly didn’t help the fact that this entire time, you couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss. it was the way he spoke about his feelings for you via the sparks from the sudden excursion that had your heart blossoming out of your chest even an hour after it happened
atsumu plops himself next to you, yet still leaving enough room that you wouldn’t run away from him again. his arms rest over his knees as he picked at his nails in uncertainty, as if he was treading over thin ice and a single misstep would eliminate any progress that was created between the two of you. “we’re free to go in fifteen minutes,” his voice was gentle, yet hesitance laced it to soften it a bit more as you didn’t even spare him a glance. “...just to let you know.”
there was no response from you. a simple nod was a good enough answer even though you weren’t obligated to. if anything, you feared that atsumu could hear the wavering in your voice when if you did say anything verbally. you hoped just by a simple nod would be a sign for him to get up and leave you alone in your furrowing thoughts, but he just sat there. in the deafening silence and the flipping of the pages of your book, he stayed for you.
atsumu wanted to make sure you got home safely and not do anything stupid. he knew what you were capable of especially after something out of the ordinary transpires (see: the kiss from earlier).
you had to admit that maybe you didn’t care that he was right next to you anymore. before, you would always yell at him to leave you alone or give you space, but for once his presence felt comforting to you (you wouldn’t confess that for you the life of you, though). you just hoped he wouldn’t notice the heat rising in your neck again.
(he did end up noticing)
the setter cleared his throat then, his fingers still playing with each other to spare him from the awkwardness. “are you okay?”
you huffed, “i knew you were an idiot, but i didn’t think you were this stupid.”
there it was, atsumu thought. despite the severity of your response, he couldn’t help but feel a smile creep on his lips knowing that you were at least talking to him. throughout the past year, he had come to realize that having you throw insults at him was better than not talking at all. granted, you wouldn’t even spare a single breath to someone you truly hated and not give a shit about. so if anything, you being mean to him was a sign that you think of him as something more than a stranger.
it was an odd case of stockholm syndrome, atsumu had to admit.
“is it because of the kiss earlier?” he asked, yet you didn’t utter a word. rather it was the sudden bursting of red tinted ears and burning cheeks stopped you from forming proper words. you would never get used to this feeling. “if it makes you feel any better—”
“just shut up about it,” you hissed as plunged your face deeper into your book. atsumu seeing your tomato-red face was the last thing you wanted as you shooed him away, “i don’t want to hear it.”
a chuckle left atsumu as he took the book out of your hands, loudly slapping it shut that the impact of paper hitting one another echoed throughout the library. it forced you to look at him in the eyes as he smirked at your expression. he hasn’t seen a look of embarrassment on your visage before and he found it adorable. “if the next words that come out of your mouth is to forget about the kiss ever happening, i’ll do it again and make sure you remember.”
your jaw tightened slightly as you peered your eyes at him, “fine.” you affirmed, “it did happen, but it meant nothing.”
“well, it meant something to me.” atsumu countered, not even noticing the way he leaned in closer.
it felt almost impulsive the way your emotions just crumbled before you. with the sense of betrayal between your mind and your heart had you dragged into the tide of finally giving into the guy you’re supposed to be hating. it felt criminal the way you even let your eyes flicker back down to his lips that was still a bit swollen from last time.
it just had to you, huh?
“i hate you,” you say before pulling him his tie towards you.
the kiss was slower than last time, deeper even. you were sure this was how serendipity felt like, sweet against your tongue like marmalade and soft like feathers with the way atsumu was trying to chase that euphoria when he made his way down your jaw. the ghost of his lips left trails down your neck and to your collarbone before recoiling back to your lips. you tasted like mocha and atsumu already found himself addicted to it.
“miya! (y/l/n)!” the advisor in charge of detention’s voice suddenly thundered throughout the library, forcing you two to pull away from each other. “detention ends in five minutes! the hell is this? daisy chains?” he suddenly interjects before letting out a loud scoff. “if i don’t see the rest of the trash from these tables thrown away, i’m giving you two another after school detention next week!”
a disappointed sigh emits from you as you and atsumu make your way back to the other end of the library. you hoped the exchange between the two of you wasn’t too obvious as your lips were all pink and your uniform disheveled.
the advisor gave you two a look before turning away to leave the library. humiliation struck you then and atsumu couldn’t help but laugh.
“i’ll make sure osamu gets his paper daisy chain.” the setter reassures playfully as he snatches both flower crowns from the table and hands the other to you.
your hands brush together as you take it from him, muttering, “you can have it if you want.”
“what was that?”
“nothing,” you say as you make your way towards the library’s entrance, “i said you look like a cunt.”
#haikyuu!!#haikyuu#haikyuu imagines#haikyuu scenarios#haikyuu x reader#atsumu x reader#atsumu imagines#atsumu scenarios#miya atsumu#atsumu fluff#atsumu miya#atsumu hcs#hq atsumu#haikyuu atsumu
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fic request: hyrule "getting lost" on purpose for some alone time from the group, and bringing someone with him to find a cool spot and just hang out a while! bonus if it turns out he very rarely actually gets lost and just uses it as an excuse xD extra bonus if it's legend 👉👈
Anon, I love you. You're the epitome of big brain.
Have Hyrule and Legend having a wholesome moment. It's not much, but it's honest work. <3
Bold of you to believe Hyrule gets lost easily
Being on an adventure with a party was quite different from what Hyrule had imagined; truth to be told, the thought never crossed his mind. But when it finally became a reality and he found himself surrounded by people 24/7, the closeness, the noise, started to suffocate him.
Don't take him wrong, he loves his new friends. He absolutely does. Ones more than others, but he still loves them all. But he could do with fewer people from time to time. And since some of the others didn't seem to be willing to separate for more than a couple of minutes, unless extremely required, he decided to take matters into his own hands.
The first time was almost accidental. He did go off-trail for a bathroom break, but as he waited for his business to be finished he realised how quiet the woods were; no clinking of armour, no footsteps, no small chat, just birds chirping and treetops rustling gently against each other. Just pure, comfortable quiet. He didn't even notice that he had finished already, so lost contemplating his surrounding and how much he missed this. Soon enough, he snapped out of it, fixed his clothes and started heading back to the main trail. The group was probably far ahead, so he didn't rush to reach them. Instead, he took his time, idly following the trail and admiring the beauty around him: massive trees, so tall they covered the sky, the only source of light slipping through the gaps between the leaves; so lovely and delicate and warm. Without the noise of a full travelling party, he noticed that the small creatures of the forest didn't mind his silent steps, some hares peeking from their burrows and a couple of squirrels chasing each other down a tree trunk.
He didn't know how long it took him to catch up with the group, but he knows that it must have been a good half an hour or more; their faces showing nothing but annoyance, maybe a bit of worry etched on their youngest companion, but irritation definitely took the lead.
"Where were you?!" was the first thing one of them asked, followed by some concerned queries about his well-being.
He took exactly one second to think and answer "I got lost on my way back."
And from then on, he was never allowed to leave the perimeter without a partner. Which, mind you, fucking sucked. There he was trying not to hurt anybody's feelings, yet his answer ended up backfiring in the worst way possible; not only was it harder to have some quiet, but the group also started to underestimate his sense of direction in a way that felt almost insulting. Did he have to remind them that there are no maps in his Hyrule and yet he knows the land like the back of his hand? But go off, not like he cares, anyway.
He tried to not let it bother him, and not past a couple of days, he found a solution to the very same problem he got himself into. He started to sneak out without anyone noticing, and if they did notice, they were nice enough to not rat him out. To each their own, whatever. It became a habit, whenever he would feel the tingling sensation at the nape of his neck, he would begin to fall behind and leave the group as soon as he saw an opportunity. Often times, it was Wild and his weird wolf who found him pacing around somewhere, the blue-clad hero with a mischievous smile on his face while the wolf sported a frown, not thrilled to be on hunt duty. Other times, Hyrule made his way back to the group a couple of hours later, before anyone started arranging a rescue team for someone who clearly didn't need it. But he appreciated the sentiment; at least he knows that they wouldn't just ditch him anytime.
One day, though, he noted that their veteran was in a sour mood, more than any other day. He had no idea that could be possible, but, hey, you learn new things every day. He felt kindness fill his body more than usual and was willing to let the veteran in on his little secret. He didn't need to worry too much before turning to him as they unpacked their stuff for the night.
"Hey, I'm feeling a bit restless," he said and the other just hummed in response, "do you want to go for a walk with me?"
"No."
For a moment, he thought of dropping it right then; but on the other hand, he was feeling a tad overwhelmed by the noise coming from the guys helping the cook with dinner and the others taking care of their gear. Couldn't they be a bit more... silent? For mostly mute companions, they sure were extremely loud in their tasks sometimes.
"Please, everyone is busy," he pleaded, now moving to be face to face with the veteran, "please, Leg. It won't take long."
He saw the Legend drop his shoulders in surrender before agreeing to a short walk around the area. And as soon as they had their stuff ready, they took off.
Hyrule was excited to have some alone time after what had been entire days without the opportunity to sneak out. He didn't even mind Legend coming with him. In fact, he was delighted to have him around. While Legend often worried about his disappearing habits, he was also the most chill about it. He really liked him. He hoped that this walk would ease his mind of whatever was bothering him; he wasn't going to ask, that was not the point of this. If Legend wanted to talk, they would.
"It sure is nice around here," Legend said, as emotionless as ever, making Hyrule question if he even meant it.
There were no trees blocking the sky, the sea of constellations shining brightly above them as they walked up a hill. Hyrule guessed it was most likely a small mountain if his adventure had taught him anything. The path was becoming too steep for them to trek in a straight line. Just as soon as they got to what seemed to be a dead-end, Legend whistled, catching the traveller's attention.
"It was a great walk," he said, boots already turning around and retracing his steps. "Time to go back."
But Hyrule didn't follow him. Instead, he reached in front of him.
"Last to get to the top is a bald cuccoo," he shouted as he started his climb.
He didn't even look back to check on Legend, he knew he would be following him. They climbed in silence, saving their energy and attention for the slippery rocks that fell from their hands and under the weight of their boots.
About ten minutes later, when the moon was at its highest point, Hyrule reached a small plateau on the side of the mountain. It might not be the destination they had in mind, but he couldn't deny that the view from there was stunning. To their south, he could see the prairie they had passed through early in the day, the light of the moon illuminating every single patch of grass and rock; on the other side of the mountain, to the north, Hyrule could spot the light and smoke coming from their campsite. They weren't that far, after all. Just enough to relax.
"What the fuck? You can't just say shit like that and start climbing, Hyrule!" Legend wheezed as he dragged his body over the edge, completely out of breath and slamming his back against the cold ground.
Hyrule ran to aid him to stand up, extending small apologies as he offered his hand, his shoulders shaking with a stifled chuckle.
"What are you talking about? That was fun!"
He gave Legend the time to look around, hoping that the view would make him forget his irritation. In the end, he guesses he succeeded; a soft smile adorned the other's face.
"I wished we could stay longer, but we gotta head back."
Hyrules ears perked up in interest and a grin that showed nothing but mischief appeared.
"Oh, it would be such a shame if we got lost on our way back and we had to wait until morning to avoid getting even more lost in the dark."
It took Legend 5 seconds before the gears in his mind began to work and process what Hyrule said.
"You little shit," he punched him on his arm playfully, earning him a cackle from the traveller. "You. cheeky. little. shit." He marked each word with a punch, each less hard than the last.
Hyrule rubbed his arm, "so, what do you say?" He looked at Legend expectantly, " If you want to go back to the others, we'll go. I'm not keeping you here, but I think some time off would do us good."
It was then that Legend noticed that Hyrule had brought his bag with him. He sat down and started pulling a variety of items from it, a fabric too thin to be a blanket being one of them.
With a snap of his fingers, a nearby bush lit on fire, and in no time they had their own little impromptu camp set up.
"I have some fish if you want me to make something," he pointed to his bag, but as always, he didn't wait for a response, already elbow-deep into the bag looking for the food, "caught it this morning, it's basically fresh."
Two small fish stabbed through the middle with a stick later, he handed one stick for Legend to grill over the fire.
"So... you get lost... on purpose..."
"Yep."
"Why?"
Hyrule bit the inside of his cheek and flipped his fish over, " for the exact same reason you accepted to come with me, I suppose." He took the fish off the fire and inspected it. "Unlike most of you, I didn't have a companion during my adventures. Having someone to talk to whenever is nice and all but... well, I simply value my privacy. I like being alone."
Legend could only hum in agreement. He rolled his stick, half of his fish almost burnt, "Wow, thanks," he said, his words coated with sarcasm.
"I like being alone with you," he laughed at his own words, a bit unsure of how to fix what he had said, but no less true.
A soft smile pulled at Legend's lips. He sighed in contentment and extended an arm to ruffle Hyrule's hair.
"I like being with you, too."
#linkeduniverse#linked universe#anon#ask#fic request#kyo writes#anon come let me give you a big smooch on the forehead#ilu#i had a great time writing this#this prompt? fucking exquisite#write more self-suffcient hyrule you cowards#jkjkjk#unless....#kakskskks#anywho#im sorty the format fucking sucks#im editing thia from my phone#and uuuuhhh#it's weird#lu hyrule#lu legend
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Same anon thank you for answering my question! I was wondering if you could do headcanons for MTMTE Rung, Megatron, Rodimus, Minimus, and Swerve with an Artisic human reader that just sees the good and creative artist side of everything? From books to pictures to even their own bot? Like they can just look at their bot and go out on a whole rant on how beautiful their optics are from the color to their expression. if that’s too many characters you can take any one, I don’t mind! Thank you and have a good day ❤️
You're welcome! I'm always open for clarification, so feel free to ask questions about whatever you'd like if you're unsure on anything. I took a little liberty with this one, but I've got all the requested bots because darn it all these beautiful mechs deserve recognition!
Rung
·He discovers your artistic inclination thanks to years of experience reading personalities and emotions at a glance, but he wasn't prepared for the depth of your conviction in seeing the world through a creative lens, which he learned upon speaking to you about your process as an artist. This surprise grows as he sees you sketching around the ship, your exuberance for the inherent beauty in everything coming through in every conversation you share.
·When he praises some of your sketches on a quiet day in his office and is compelled to ask how you developed your style, he's fascinated by your explanation, and his spark is warmed by how beautifully you describe the world around you and credit it for inspiring you. He's visibly shocked when your list of current subjects and muses includes him specifically, and you can't help but chuckle at the usually calm bot looking so absolutely flustered. There's no way for him to hide any of that feeling when he requests a bit of clarification; there's hundreds of bots on board, what about him could possibly stand out?
·You're happy to elaborate on your process to a bot who so regularly underestimates his worth and lay out why he in particular piques your interest. The warmth and goodness of his being is such a rare and beautiful thing, you explain, but also so rarely appreciated that it drives you to try and capture that essence in a manner one can see. How could you not? Such compassion and empathy and forgiveness should be remembered! You've also seen that he's capable of accepting any genuine apology, and to have that level of mercy after so much war is beautiful, enough that you have to try and show it.
·To say he's touched is an understatement of unfathomable proportions. Removing his lenses to clear optics blurred with tears, he doesn't even know how to begin processing your praise of his character when you add that his physical self hardly fails to encourage you either. His glasses nearly slip from his hands when he hears you say that. You continue quite easily; the kindness in his optics and the sweetness of his smile, combined with his genuinely handsome profile, simply inspire you to start sketching.
·He's touched, but you have to understand, he is NOT accustomed to this level of praise. Between the near tears and the blushing he has to politely excuse himself to recover from this absolute tsunami of emotions, but being flustered and melted at once is enough to have him smiling through a little blush all day long. While he tries to take a little bit of your mindset into his everyday life going forward, he gets a bit dazed every time he sees a sketch of yours that includes his face, as that level of artistic devotion being dedicated to him is more than he'll ever be able to process. Not that he minds...
Megatron
·Being more familiar with the written word, he enjoys the arts but has little experience with those who create them, and time has not been on his side in regards to learning more. Thus, you're one of the first artistically inclined individuals he's been able to discuss the topic with, which he was motivated to do after catching a glimpse of your work. He could swear some of your sketches bear a resemblance to him, but he says nothing on the matter and is certain his optics are tricking him.
·Your talk of technique quickly surprises him by shifting to inspiration, which to you is the primary driving force of your work, as it influences how you go about conveying the subject matter. Eager to share what you mean, you explain that anything can have beauty worthy of capturing if you just take the time to look at it right. Even the most mundane or seemingly unappealing things can be remarkable if you know their story, and you want to convey that energy as wordlessly as possible.
·A little overwhelmed but quite impressed by your manner of reasoning, he rather jokingly asks if even beings like himself could ever inspire you, or perhaps another artist with your mindset. He's caught off gaurd like never before when you, quite enthusiastically, reply that he most certainly can and does! To keep his composure he recalls portraits of his likeness being commissioned to inspire his soldiers, but never believing these fell under the category of art so much as they did propaganda. They often depicted him quite... violently as well.
·Having never seen these pieces, you reply that your own experience is tied more to how you see him now, and you flip through your sketchbook to demonstrate. As close to your level as can be, he's speechless while you explain what you wanted to capture about him in each sketch, whether it's a quick study or a detailed project; and that's how safe he makes you feel. Hearing himself referred to as a protector cuts straight through his powerful armor.
·You depict him looking almost... gentle? Hearing you describe the his immense size as a source of comfort and his strength as a tool of keeping peace processes about as clearly to him as a foreign language, but he nods along and keeps the conversation going until his duties call him away. Though he says nothing of it, he volunteers himself for more of the physically demanding work around the ship. His body's purpose had always been decided for him, but you've reminded him he has the only true say in its use, and that everything really is a matter of perspective. Perhaps he'll take up sketching once this is all over.
Rodimus
·He's certainly always had an appreciation for visual appeal, even if his idea of beauty doesn't often overlap with what most would consider artistically valuable. This and his natural alertness makes him quick to notice you often sketch about the ship, frequently when he's present, but at first he leaves you alone to work in peace. Having a hobby on this crew is beyond valuable, and he doesn't want to distract you from a passion... That is, until he decides on one especially slow day to just ask you what you like to doodle about.
·You can tell he wants to be a little nosy, if only because he's naturally a curious bot about these things, but you're more than happy to share regardless. There's a lot due to the ample downtime on the quest, and he has to squint so he can properly scan the many sketches on the human sized paper. He happily recognizes friends, locales about the ship, even earth things he knows about... but he's not ready when he finds a picture of himself.
·While he remains outwardly playful, teasing you with how he'd pose if you only asked, he's internally flattered that you took the time to draw him. More specifically, he's touched by the way you drew him. The sketches and portraits portray him as a calm but amicable leader, standing tall and serving as a guide to those around him, a true "father to his men" kind of bot... it's everything he wants to be, but is quite certain he's not. He's barely able to keep up his smooth persona when he asks about your process.
·You explain that you find inspiration in everything, but he's been your chosen subject lately for a lot of reasons. It's no secret he's handsome, but you see something more when you look at him, and you did everything you could to show it here; there's a real leader in him. Maybe some bots don't see it under all the bluster and sarcasm, but you see how much he cares for every bot on his crew. He wants to be the best for all of them, and even if he struggles at times, that effort is beautiful to you.
·It takes everything in him to bite back some very embarrassing tears, and the crack in his voice doesn't help him hide the emotion, though he covers that up with unconvincing coughs and claims something got in his optic. From then on he seems to stand a little taller and find his assigned duties a little easier to bear, but you absolutely notice how he poses in what he believes to be heroic fashion whenever your sketchbook comes out. Inspired by his enthusiasm, you invite him to model more officially, and the crew is just happy to see him so enthusiastic.
Minimus
·Being as observant as he is, your consistent appraisal of your surroundings is not something he'd ever miss, but your frequent sketching in the most random places does leave him absolutely mystified. Every time he sees you there's artistic supplies on your person, but he can't find anything that appears to be worthy of putting to paper, so what could you be drawing? He respects your privacy too much, and feels too silly about his curiosity, to interpret and ask you for an explanation.
·Thus it's with some small eagerness that he finds one of your sketchbooks after it's been misplaced, and he sees the perfect opportunity to slip in a question. For the sake of handling something so tiny, he approaches without his armor, offering the lost item back with barely concealed pride at your delight to have it returned. In the moment of truth he nearly falters, but does indeed manage to ask what you draw around the ship. He leaves out the fact that he's observed you whenever you draw in his presence.
·The question has an answer only he seems to think isn't obvious; him! You spend time together frequently, and while everything is fair game for sketching, he's a very regular subject for you. Whether he's wearing the Magnus armor or not, you explain that the commanding aura he radiates is something you can't help but find beautiful. That word choice baffles him enough that he has to interrupt; beautiful? Commanding? Even without his armor?? You're delighted to assure him that you absolutely mean that.
·Hearing you describe the details of your reasoning, like the quiet dignity of his stance or the calm intelligence of his red optics, touches his spark in ways he wasn't expecting. He's calm and speaks softly as he keeps the conversation going, asking questions about your various works and listening attentively when you answer, processing your view of the universe as being packed with beauty in all the places people don't think to look.
·Any bot that sees him during the remainder of the day absolutely notices the change to his entire demeanor; namely that he's smiling a soft and barely perceptible smile. It's not long after he requests a few sketches from you to keep in his office, whether they're of him or not, and he has them framed in places of honor. He doesn't tell you, but you figure it out, that one particular drawing of him you gift for his sake is kept securely stored in a compartment by his spark.
Swerve
·Many bots may see him being a tad bit on the shallow side when it comes to the arts, but our beloved barkeep has his own unique appreciation for creativity and all the ways it can be visually expressed, and you recognize it not long after meeting him. As his bar is a frequent hangout for everyone, you find it to be a fantastic place to sit and sketch, as the variety of bots makes it quite easy to have your choice of subjects even if you have to sit on a table. Obviously Swerve notices and asks you what you're drawing when traffic slows one evening.
·You're happy to show him your work and he's always eager to hear what everyone is up to, so he starts asking questions about your art in general. How long have you been an artist? What's it like suddenly having a whole ship of aliens to sketch? Why draw here all the time? At that query you light up brilliantly, and he's delighted by your enthusiasm as you describe all the incredible sights the bar has to offer.
·You list some of your favorite things to draw, like the many friend groups on the ship that gather here, the brilliant colors of the glowing vats of enjex, and him smiling and rushing with orders through it all. That last one gets a flash of surprise from behind his visor, which is quickly overtaken by exuberant delight; you've been drawing him?! He babbles out a surge of confusing statements that you're eventually able to interpret as a request to see, just one he's too bashful to say directly.
·Happily obliging, you're touched by how he smiles at every little sketch, and feel compelled to explain that he's a big part of why you love drawing here. You try to see beauty in everything, even what often gets overlooked, and there's so very much of that here. The bar is one of those places that everyone knows is special, but you know he's the reason they love it like they do, and that his enthusiasm and hard work hold it all together. You find that inspiring, and actually quite beautiful. It doesn't hurt that his brilliant smile is always a treat to sketch.
·Trying to play it cool and totally failing, he doesn't quite hide that he's near to tears when he asks if you'd like to hang some of your work up in the bar, or maybe have a little corner for yourself to draw from. He just doesn't want you getting squished while you sketch, is all! And having a better vantage point is ideal for someone so small! When you accept, he gives you your own human sized accommodations not too far from the heart of the bar, and every so often when you sketch he'll glance up at you absolutely beaming.
#transformers#more than meets the eye#mtmte#idw#lost light#maccadam#tf#rung#megatron#minimus ambus#rodimus#swerve#self insert#human reader#requests#anon#my writing#transformers headcanon#my asks
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Lukanette soulmate AU please!
Congrats on 200 followers!
Thank you anon!! Fun thing is, I was working on a Soulmate AU (ViperBug + Lukanette) when your prompt came in! I hope you like the story, read under the cut to find out!
“What do ya mean ya don’t want to eat this, lad? It’s a celebration day for us and above all, it’s yer favorite.”
It had started the night of the music festival.
Luka glared at the plate of Italian Beef, a frown marring his features. Ma was right, the dish was his favorite. In fact, any dish with onions in it was a simple delight. But for some reason, he now had an urge to throw the damned beef in the trash and never see it again.
Pushing his plate away, Luka sighed. “I dunno, Ma. I just… where’s the nearest basin again?”
“But it’s onions. You like onions,” Juleka spoke up.
“Correction: liked,” Luka replied, before pushing the dish further away and leaning back in his chair. “Right now, the very sight of them is making me want to throw up.”
“Laddie, it's celebration day! We always make Italian Beef, and you relish it.” Anarka spoke up in an authoritative tone, causing Luka to look up. “And y’know we don’t tolerate wastage in this house. So right now, you eat what you got on yer plate.”
“I know, Ma. But I just don’t want to.” Luka got up from his chair and picked up his guitar. “I guess I will just go out and eat something. I’m sorry I ruined the dinner.”
Ignoring his mom’s calls, Luka climbed out to the deck of Liberty. As he got off the houseboat and onto the dock, he quickly worked his way up the footpath. His mind was in a turmoil. He couldn’t understand his sudden disgust for onions; he loved them like crazy. Dishes without onions had seemed so bland. But now even the smell of them made him gag.
Searching around for some affordable fast food joint, Luka found himself getting irritated with his stupid condition. The music festival had been one wild ride and with the adrenaline of the day finally subsiding, he found himself growing tired and hungrier with every passing minute. Fast food without onions was unheard of, and given his dilemma, he really couldn’t eat anything substantial off the menu. After a lot of calculations and internal cursing, he (or rather his hunger) finally managed to convince himself to dine on a big block of strawberry ice cream that night, hoping the sugar content could keep him going for the time being.
He dug into his ice cream, relishing the sugary delight despite its insubstantiality. Having something in his stomach made him feel better and energized, and Luka didn’t mind missing the festive treat. After all, ice cream could count as a treat too, right?
Eating the last scoop of the cold delight, Luka chucked the carton in the nearby trashcan and let out a sigh. And that was when his eyes caught sight of something colorful against the grey walls.
A flower.
The Couffaine boy peered at the tiny flower with curiosity, his hand coming up to feel its petals. The flower was soft, the flower was beautiful. The flower was a delight to see. It was colourful and looked absolutely… tasty.
Luka wondered how it would feel like in his mouth.
Looking around and finding no one, the boy weighed his chances. The flower was irresistible and Luka felt totally drawn to it. But was eating a flower actually something sensible?
Then again, sensibility and Boat Kid couldn’t exist in one sentence.
Plucking the flower, Luka shoved it into his mouth.
The flower was as soft on his tongue as he had imagined it to be. And juicy too. The nectar was the right amount of sweet and tangy, and the stalk wasn’t bad eith--
“THE HECK?! ”
Abruptly turning around, Luka found an astonished Juleka staring at him with eyes blown wide, jaw slack open. Her gaze dropped from his face to his mouth, causing Luka to gulp the now crushed flower.
Well, nearly gulp.
The tasty flower was too dry.
Luka coughed and choked and spluttered, causing Juleka to rush over to him and pound him on the back. As he recovered from his coughing fit, his sister pointed at her own mouth in astonishment. Luka reached over his mouth to find a leaf sticking on his lips.
Oh well.
This was going to be a fun explanation.
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“Oh my god, that’s… that’s downright hilarious!” Ladybug wheezed in delight before letting out a small yelp as she overbalanced herself, nearly toppling off the roof. Viperion caught her just in time, helping her straighten up again. Muttering a small thanks to him, Ladybug let out another chuckle as she held her stomach, her other hand coming up to rest on the snake hero’s left shoulder.
“I-I’m sorry,” the heroine giggled, wiping the tears of mirth from her eyes before looking up at Viperion. “But I can’t help it. It’s just too funny! I just...I can’t even imagine Juleka’s reaction to that. How did you explain it to her?”
The snake hero chuckled, shaking his head lightly. “I didn’t need to. Turns out, she had already figured out something was fishy the moment I declared my hatred for onions. And my ‘hunting of an innocent flower’ just solidified her explanations.”
“Hunting of an innocent flower, good lord,” Ladybug let out another giggle before her stance turned slightly serious. “If I know right, onions are snake repellents. Do you think…”
Viperion shook his head in denial. “No. She didn’t connect it like that. Moreover, it was after a month or so that Viperion made his debut so..I don’t think it has to do with the Miraculous.”
“Then what does it have to deal with?”
Viperion remained silent for a moment. He didn’t want to tell the real reason, didn’t want to mess things up. However, seeing no way out, Viperion simply sighed. “Soulmates.”
Her silence served as an indication for him to continue.
Viperion kicked at the air, before turning his gaze to the city of lights that lay in front of him. “It’s some sort of weird rare connection that activated when I first met my soulmate. Apparently, I started liking what my soulmate loves to eat. And whoever she is, she started liking my favorite food.”
“You mean onions?” For some reason, Ladybug’s voice was highly guarded.
“Yep. And we both dislike what we earlier liked, so…” Viperion let out another sigh. “I miss eating onions. Like, I have thankfully developed some tolerance to the smell and can eat an onion ring or two, but I want to relish them like I used to.”
“Isn’t there any way to cure it?”
“Apparently, I have to kiss her,” Viperion mirthlessly chuckled as he picked up a hibiscus from the small basket he had brought, popping the flower in his mouth. He ignored Ladybug’s strangled sound; Viperion was too used to being looked at like some idiot whenever he ate them. A profound silence stretched between the two heroes, and Viperion tried his best to not break it with his munching.
However, the flower was too tasty to give a damn.
“Why do you refer to your soulmate as a ‘her’?” Ladybug’s voice completely shattered the remaining traces of silence. “I mean, they necessarily aren’t a girl, right?”
“I already know who she is.”
Ladybug stiffened as she looked at him quizzically. Viperion weighed the chances in his head. He knew what he was signing up for, and he didn’t want to mess up the friendship he had with the superheroine, but circumstances simply didn't seem to be in his favor. “I only interacted with two new people that day -- one was the girl I love and the other was you. Aaanddd--”
“And?”
Viperion paused, his hand stopping near his mouth, another hibiscus held comically in it. He looked at Ladybug, then at the flower in his hand, then back at Ladybug, eyebrow quirked up in a “are you serious?” expression.
Ladybug looked confusedly at him for a moment, before her eyes literally bugged out as she let out an incomprehensible noise. Viperion immediately hurried to calm her down. “I mean! It’s just an assumption based on the qualities your miraculous gives you and you don’t necessarily like--”
“You!” Ladybug screamed out, causing the snake hero to flinch away. However, the heroine simply grabbed him by the collar and pulled him towards herself, her stormy bluebell eyes inches away from his terrified teals. “You are the reason why I moved from detesting onions to loving them!”
“I-what?!” Viperion squeaked out, before clearing his throat. “I mean, REALLY?! YOU DETESTED ONIONS?! ”
“I DID!”
“But whyyyyyy?!” Viperion let out a whine. “Onions are so good!”
“THAT’S NOT THE POINT! Why do I have to deal with morons?!”
“But why don’t you understand? Onions are so good!” If Viperion couldn’t eat onions, he would make others know the joy of eating that vegetable. “They are tangy, and flavory, and savory. And have you tried them in dishes? They taste so wonde -MMPH! ”
Only to be silenced by a pair of lips slamming on his own.
His eyes widened in surprise as soft lips moved over his own, and before he knew what was happening, Ladybug pulled away.
She let his collar go and grabbed the flower from his hand, popping it into her mouth. Viperion remained standing where he was, gawking at her like a stupid fellow.
“This is so messed up… I just… follow me.” Saying so, Ladybug swung off the roof.
Viperion just watched her retreating figure, his hands coming over his lips. He could taste the strawberry lip gloss and feel the heat in his cheeks. And he didn’t know what the hell had just happened.
The love of his life was Marinette. Soulmates or not, he had come to accept that Ladybug and him were just friends.
He was supposed to be someone filling up for Chat when the latter couldn’t show up on patrols. He was supposed to be Ladybug’s soundboard: talking to her when she needed him, whether it was sharing jokes or stressful events.
He wasn’t supposed to kiss her.
Well, technically, it was she who kissed him, but the problem still remained.
She wasn’t supposed to kiss him!
Ladybug and him were just friends. Friends do not kiss each other on the lips. And he was in love with Marinette, he could not return Ladybug’s feelings, no matter how much his heart broke at that.
What was he going to do?
His lyre chimed, causing him to jump in surprise. He picked up the incoming call from Ladybug and placed the device next to his ear.
That had been a mistake, for it immediately blared to life.
“ VIPERION! ” Ladybug’s voice boomed out of the communicator, and Viperion nearly threw the device off the roof. “Are you coming or should I drag you around Paris wrapped in my yo-yo?!”
“I am! I am!” Saying so, he cut the call and sighed.
It was time to face the music. Literally.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Viperion landed down on the darkened Dupain-Cheng balcony, totally confused. The GPS had shown him that this was the place, but why did Ladybug decide to land here?
Something soft hit him in the face. Surprised, he picked the thing up from the floor. It was a hibiscus flower.
“Glad to see you could make it here, Luka.”
Viperion immediately turned to the source of voice, his advanced senses detecting someone standing there. The sound was definitely Ladybug’s. However, whether she was suited or not was the question.
“Ladybug?”
The girl sighed. “Yeah, that’s me. Now tell me, can you eat that flower?”
Viperion looked down at the hibiscus in his hand. For some reason, he didn’t feel the urge to gobble up the entire thing in one go. He took a tentative bit of the petal and immediately spat the damned thing out.
“Yuck! It’s gross!” The hero exclaimed, spluttering. “No, I can’t eat it!”
“And the onion rings by your side?” came Ladybug’s question. Viperion looked around to find the same beside him.
There had been a plate of onion rings by his side and he hadn’t realised?!
He picked up one ring and put it in his mouth. And his eyes immediately filled with tears.
He could actually relish his favorite food after such a long time!
Grabbing the plate, Viperion popped the onion rings into his mouth, munching on them happily. Ladybug’s chuckle caught his attention, causing him to blush.
“I’m glad the kiss worked, Luka.”
“Thank you so much Ladybug! You don’t know how happy I am and-- wait,” he gulped the food down as he looked at the heroine inquisitively, “The kiss didn’t mean anything?”
There was silence on the other end, before Ladybug let out a sigh. “The day I started liking onions, I knew I had interacted with my soulmate. But who they were, I couldn’t say.”
Viperion put the plate aside, giving Ladybug his full attention.
“I knew it wasn’t my former crush: he loves passion-fruit macarons. I asked Chat, and turned out it wasn’t him either: Chat has a sweet tooth and he had started liking spicy things despite his low tolerance. And I don’t like spice so--”
“You weren’t his soulmate,” Viperion whispered.
“Nope.” Ladybug let out another sigh. “Going around asking for everyone’s favorite food sounded weird, so I didn’t do that. Plus, I missed my flowers and hated onions with my heart. I was eager to know who was the cause of this entire mess in my life. Turns out it was you...and I’m glad of that.”
Viperion could hear the smile in her voice, and he took one tentative step towards her. “I’m sorry for being the cause of your dilemma, Ladybug. But this still doesn’t answer my question. ‘Cause you see, there is someone else who has a claim over my heart.”
He heard her breath hitch, and that alone gave him his answer, Ladybug did have feelings for him.
“I-I see.”
Viperion felt absolutely bad for turning her down like that, and he racked his brains to find something, anything that could remove the heavy lull the conversation had fallen into. However, Ladybug saved him from the trouble.
“Luka?”
“Yeah?”
“It’s-it’s okay. I won’t mind us staying just… friends .” The sadness in her voice broke his heart, but he chose to stay silent. “I just… Can I know who she is? If you don’t mind?”
Viperion smiled despite himself. “It’s the girl whose balcony we’re on.”
Ladybug’s breath hitched, and he sensed her take a step towards him. “You-you mean Marinette? Marinette Dupain Cheng?”
“Yes.”
Ladybug walked towards him slowly and steadily, until he could practically feel the heat radiating off her. He looked down to find her bluebell eyes sparkling at him. Bluebell eyes that didn’t have a mask covering them. Bluebell eyes that, for some reason, had him completely floored. As if he never wanted this moment between them to break.
“Can you… can you please detransform?” She spoke in a voice so soft, Viperion nearly missed her words.
“Scales rest,” he whispered, afraid to shatter the unknown bubble he was trapped in.
Teal light filled the area, and that was when Luka heard Ladybug’s soft whisper to Tikki, asking the kwami to turn on the lights.
The fairy lights slowly came to life, illuminating the balcony the duo were on. And underneath the stars and in the ambient glow of the lights, Luka found himself staring at the love of his life.
His melody.
“Marinette?” He breathed out, his heart thudding in his ears.
“Luka,” came her soft reply.
“Where did Ladybug go?”
“I-What?!”
Luka couldn’t help himself from breaking down into a fit of chuckles.
“Oh my lord, that expression is just… priceless! Marine-OUCH! OUCH! SORRY!! Stop hitting me!”
“That’s for being a jerk!” Marinette wailed, before pulling him by the collar and kissing him full on the lips, catching him by surprise. “And that’s for the confession.”
For the second time that night, Luka was caught by surprise. As Marinette pulled away, he was staring at her with wide eyes, his hand automatically coming up to touch his lips. He could taste the strawberry lip gloss on his lips and felt the heat in his cheeks. Once again he didn’t know what to do.
“Luka? Are you okay?” Her voice broke him out of his trance.
“Marinetteeee,” Luka whined, “You kissed me two times without any warning and you expect me to be okay?”
She giggled, before taking a step towards him, her lips lifted in a smirk. “Well, don’t they say that third time’s the charm?”
He blinked at her, before smirking as his arms wrapped around her waist. He took the hibiscus from her hands and tossed it away. She knocked over the plate of onions in retaliation. Luka chuckled before pulling her close.
“Well, shall we test that out then, My melody?” He whispered against her ear, causing her to let out a breathy chuckle.
Soft lips pressed against his for the third time that night, catching him by surprise yet again. Not by the spontaneity of the kiss, but by how unique it was. Sweet as sugar, fruity as her lip gloss, tangy (and a little weird) as the hibiscus she had earlier had, yet completely Marinette . He sighed against her lips, feeling complete, and she let out a breathy giggle. He chuckled along with her, breaking the kiss.
“Wow,” Marinette let out a relieved sigh, catching Luka’s attention. “It was so... different!”
“Different as in?” He curiously asked, eyebrows quirked up in interest.
“Fruity, citrus, with that slight weird tinge of onions.”
“Onions are not weird, Marinette Dupain-Cheng.”
“Fight me on that, Luka Couffaine” she countered, cutely sticking her tongue out.
Luka laughed as he pulled her close to himself once again. She laid her head on his chest, giggling excitedly. Letting out a happy sigh, he gently crooked a finger under her chin, tipping her head up and finding himself lost in the lights and stars that danced in her eyes.
“You really want to fight on it, Viperion?” Marinette whispered in a tone that sent tingles down his spine. He let out a breathy laugh, looking at her through his bangs as he drew close to her.
“I might just make you understand my point with a night full of kisses, Ladybug.”
The fairy lights and the stars above them were the happy witness of her jovial affirmation.
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