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halcyone-of-the-sea · 9 months

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FLOWERS FOR THE SICK AND GONE (II)

NAVIGATION || RAVISHING ALLURE MASTERLIST || NEXT: CHAPTER III

PAIRING: Nikto x F!Reader (Soulmate AU)

WORDCOUNT: 6.3k

WARNINGS: Angst, mentions of stalking, talks of death, weapons, explosives, violence, gore, strained mother-daughter relationship, suggestive thoughts, mentions of sex, toxic modeling standards, etc. (Series 18+)

A/N: I started this before Nikto was confirmed for MWII multi., but I'll be using the 'Powercell' skin as his main attire now because it's literally so attractive.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You look at your hands as they rest in your lap, right foot jumping up and down in a display of internal anxiety under the table in your Mom’s office. It was cold, and the AC was turned all the way up; the floors barely helped—tile covered by thin rugs and windows open to the chilly morning. Like the opposite of Hellfire.

Two days had passed since the explosion and you’d only just gotten the ability to leave the hospital. The doctors had wanted to keep you longer, but you had turned in a favor from your matriarch to have them ease off with their prodding and poking.

The fact that they had been more interested in your permanent colorblindness had tipped you off that all the help you were going to be given had already been passed out. As a whole, that had been in the form of pain medication and surgical glue to the minuscule cut on your temple.

The head bleeds a lot, you know, even if the injury is minor. You weren’t overly surprised the gash had been tiny; you know what a violent wound to that part of the skull looks like.

Feels like.

Your lips thin at the thought of the nurses and their curious and narrowed eyes—the doctor wanting to do more in-depth tests as if you hadn’t gone through a slew of them before.

There was a reason you hated hospitals.

Shivering, you take a deep breath to calm down right as the door behind you opens with the sound of heeled feet and a hurried sigh. The door automatically shuts with a slam and a click of metal hinges.

“Thank God nothing happened to your face!” A hand sets itself on your shoulder and you restrain a flinch, looking to the side to the familiar face of your mom as her head tilts to look you up and down in your seat. “Stand up, let me see you.”

You open your mouth to speak but you’re quickly cut off by her serious expression.

Standing, you steady yourself by placing a hand on the side of the seat, knuckles tight as your casual sneakers take your weight. “It’s just a scratch Mom, promise. I got lucky.” When you can stand without the fear of falling over, you release it and study your mother’s fancy attire.

Dress pants, blouse, and pounds of extravagant jewelry around her neck and wrists like shackles. She looks just the same as you’d always seen her. Cold.

In some ways, she was more suited to this city than you were.

“I’ll say—you could have damaged your skin.” She motions to your body, shaking her head and sighing before moving behind her desk to sit down. A large window is behind her—shining in chilled light. “We’ll have to hope and pray that the cut heals before the next photoshoot you have scheduled. Have they told you when you’ll be back in the Agency?”

“...three people are dead, and you’re worried about me?” you say quietly, gut-twisting. “What about them?”

She pauses, her hand half holding a piece of paper from her pile. She glances up at you and thinks for a moment. Your eyes dig into hers, dejected. But she doesn’t think much of this, judging by the confused emotion that swirls behind her gray pigment.

“I’m sorry, Beauty,” no, she’s not. Your face pulls at the nickname, but you say nothing until she’s done talking. “But their job was to keep you safe. They succeeded, it’s unfortunate, I know, but if they had to…pass,” she strains through the word, not wanting to say the other. For your benefit or hers, you know not. “To keep you alive, then I say it was an even trade.”

It’s nearly like a slap to your face as your body goes tight, sitting back down into the seat with a puff of air. Like you’d just been slipped poison, your throat starts to fizzle with bile.

Yefim’s dead body slashes in the back of your mind; the lower half gone and the rest spilling out. Confused eyes and burned skin that smells like something out of a kitchen no matter how morbid the thought was.

She wasn’t there, you tell yourself. She doesn’t know how bad it was.

Screaming mixed in with crying and Alyona’s insistent barks of orders. Her hands pulled you up and shielded you from the disintegrated ash of Petya and Aleksandr. One splayed out the broken window and the other lay in an unrecognizable heap a foot from the bakery.

The only people to survive were the Baker’s boy and the two of you, but then again that was half.

“I don’t think that’s right—”

“If you were a mother, then you’d be agreeing with me,” the Consul explains, shaking her head. “But that’s not why I wanted to bring you here.” With your mom, sometimes it was better just to let things go and have them disappear into the past; you’d gotten good at brushing past comments just to satisfy her. It was just easier.

“Okay,” you whisper, looking down at your lap before closing your eyes. Looking back up, the woman is signing papers and doesn’t glance at you before speaking.

“There was a break-in at the bakery an hour before you went there,” your body stills, a strange feeling in your gut as it tightens. “Nothing was stolen but Mr. Morozov,” the owner, “says the locks were broken off; he never told authorities until now because it was minor. I think that leaves us with the answer about how that explosive got under the floorboards.” The scribble of a pen before it’s placed down and your mom’s eyes settle back on you with a frown on her lips. Her makeup makes her look like a stone statue you’d see in a museum; blank with an undertone of something else.

You stutter in broken intervals, repeatedly tapping your finger on your wrist, “How do you know about this?”

“I’m paid to know,” your mother mutters but offers more. “One of the employees is American. He’s here and planning to extend his visa for four years to care for his dying father.” Her voice drops. “Thank God that he wasn’t working.”

Being one of the two American Consulate Generals in Russia, your mother’s job was to, officially, “...Preserve and protect the relationship, and be a point of contact, between the United States of America and Russia.”

It also meant that any American citizens in Yekaterinburg were under her watchful eyes. This Consulate building provides a multitude of services—issuing visas, and renewing passports were the big ones, while registering births and deaths was also added to that chart. You’d never looked much into it, but knew it was intensive work. Everything ‘American’ going on in this city, your mom knows about.

“I’ve got a landfill of paperwork, so I’ll have to cut this off at the base,” she continues and you rub at the base of your cut with a flinching hand. You carefully tense as if a bombshell is going to be dropped on you, thighs shifting on the seat and feet unconsciously putting themselves farther under the chair.

The woman blinks at you and folds her hands on the table, knuckles tight.

“The Russian government is eager to keep lines of communication open with the USA, which means me.” You don’t like where this is going—certainly not with that folder that your mother was grabbing from out of her top drawer; having to unlock it with the name tag around her neck. A small beep echoes over the large room. “I don’t think I need to explain how much this puts me in a hole now that a stalker is after a Consul’s daughter and everyone knows about it.” You feel guilty but you don’t know why. This wasn’t your fault….right?

“I have meetings planned into next week from the second the sun rises until it peaks its stupid ass back up on the other end.” She speaks low, running a hand over her head but still keeping you in her sight. She slaps a bulging manila folder onto the desk and leans back with a sigh.

Your eyes meet in a locking of wills and you restrain yourself from apologizing. In your lap your hands clench.

“Any weapon,” she speaks slowly so you take in every word—as if you were a toddler. You hate when she gets like this. “Any goes through so many hoops to be owned it’s practically not worth it, and the same goes for possible parts used to make them. Whoever did this either has connections or a pile of money to use for bribes; I don’t know which I’d prefer, but based on his presents I have a good guess.”

“But why would someone do that?” You have to speak—to ask. How could someone be so cruel and malicious? Kill someone—multiple someones? To you, it was just unthinkable. Even just being a part of it had wreaked your sleep schedule, left you writhing in bed from an inability to sleep out of fear of seeing Yefim’s face again—gray blood; colorless gore. It was a chore to get up in the morning and eat what little you could.

Being unable to see color had never left you more terrified than when that pretty boy’s eyes had stared into yours until everything was snuffed out like a matchstick.

“Because this person,” the Consul states, answering you firmly. “He doesn’t care about you as an individual. To him, Beauty…you’re just an object that he wants to own. Your picture is all he thinks about and everyone else needs to be out of the background, do you understand?”

You go lightheaded, face quickly tilting down and contorting into itself.

Your mother sits straighter and reaches a hand across the table, lightly saying your name with the voice she would use to read stories in your youth. Skin burning, you look at it, but after a moment you weakly place your own into hers, heart hammering and brain laced with a primal fear. Though the woman’s grip tightens and squeezes lightly, you get no warmth from the gesture. Yet still, it’s better than nothing.

Alyona was away with her relatives and fiance since she’d been released from the hospital earlier; you’d spoken there briefly, but it wasn’t the same as it would have been if you’d had her here.

“We’re going to get this figured out, okay?” You nod, trying to smile as she studies your face—lingering on your temple before she frowns deeply and pulls back. Loudly, she states, “I’ll order some scar cream to your penthouse when we’re done.”

“Alright,” your lips mumble, ribs like iron cages for too-large lungs.

“But now into the important part. I need you to pick one.” She pushes the folder closer to you, and your hand snaps out to grab it. It instead punches the desk and you hiss, bringing it back to your chest. Your mother minutely blinks in shock, eyes confused. “Still with that Spatial Awareness? I thought you said it was getting better?”

“I’m…still working through it,” you grumble. You wanted to tell her there wasn’t any ‘getting better’ from this. It was just another problem you’d have to deal with your entire life. But, again, it’s easier.

She huffs as you correctly locate the folder and pick it up, placing it gently into your lap and flipping it open. Inside you find file after file, taking the first one into your fingers and propping it up before blinking in confusion at the black ink and tiny picture of a man.

You briefly look at the name, processing, before gazing back up at the woman with a furrow in your brows.

“Mom?”

She smiles.

“I have three men of Russian descent who are candidates to be your next around-the-clock guard.” Your matriarch is oblivious to your apparent hesitation to take on another person into your life, your shoulders hunching in. “All part of a PMC group called KorTac. I’d ask for a broader scale, but being born here and previously serving in the military would give them far more privileges than any others.”

You’re already shaking your head, “I don’t want anyone else to get hurt. I still have to send my apologies to all the others’ families. I–I,” your voice cuts before you can let the tears weigh your sentence down with emotion.

Your mother didn’t do that kind of thing.

“Sweetheart,” the woman draws out, shaking her head, “they don’t want to hear from you, you know that.” Her voice hardens. “You’re my responsibility. Now, look at the options.”

Gritting your teeth, you want to stand and stalk out, say to hell with her PMCs and her bland eyes. The way she talks with care but hides it behind a wall of knives like some protective barrier; like she needs to do that.

But you stay your voice and look back down, brushing past pages to have all of the pictures lined up right next to each other.

Blinking, you ask, numbly, “What kind of privileges?”

Your mother smiles though a thankful breath. “Weapons, body armor; they’ll be allowed to enter and go about business as they see fit without normal blockades. People here trust their own.”

Fire races through your mind, all-consuming black smoke and the bland ash of a burning building. Trust their own? One of their own had just killed three people and injured three more just to get your attention. How was that trust?

Your eyes gloss over words, or what little of them you could read beyond inked-out sections. Names smudge and achievements blurr; medals with no hold on you and a list of missions accomplished with what you assumed to be perfect records.

“These men have killed people,” you say, shifting to the last file as you don’t look at it right away, instead leveling the Consul with a pleading twist to your lips. “A lot of people.”

As an individual, you wouldn’t say you were very confrontational or quick to jump to violence—you did damage control and appeased more than antagonized. There was less stress when everyone could get a portion of what they wanted.

You just didn’t like senseless brutality.

“Then there’s no one better for the job.” Sometimes you wonder if your mother even raised you at all.

Forehead creased, you shift back to the papers, staring at the last man of the three in a moment of flickering orbs. His intimidating appearance makes your eyes go slightly wider with shock as you focus in.

Nikto is all that was given for the man’s name—Russian: Никто—and the individual was shrouded in so much black you wondered if he might create a void of energy around him; some kind of gruff and grueling cloud. Even from the picture, the pale, contrasted, eyes dug into you, even brighter than Petya’s had once been. Though, these eyes were inlaid into some strange mask, the top of the covering a type of Kevlar and the bottom covered in rough canvas that pulls back and completely covers the rest of the head. There are straps that extend to hold his chin and on the sides of his nose…

Your face pulls with mild disgust. Are those two screws? What the hell…?

This Russian was, plainly put, the face of death. Perhaps even something worse.

The theme of black continued, as it was the only color besides white you could identify. Strapped vest of armor plates, arms and hands that rest behind his back covered by long sleeves. Ammo was clipped at the sides of his upper chest and a large collar of armor stamped with the letters and number of ‘MP-0’. Your eyes slide to what you can read about him, morbidly intrigued as you frown at his belt full of grenades and knives. An assault rifle hangs from his chest by a long strap, limp as a dead limb.

But as you look, there was even less information available about this beast than there was visible skin behind the face-paint smeared into his sockets. Not even an age.

“Nikto,” you murmur. You wondered why you liked how it slipped off the tongue.

But you’ll also wonder in the future why you choose him at all.

Maybe it was the way for the first time in two days you’d felt something other than fear and regret; something that spread like water into the lines of your face to make them smooth. Maybe it was because out of the others, he would be the type to do his job and then leave entirely without a trace.

A blink and then…gone.

You can't have anyone else die on you—and Nikto seems the only one able to take death by the throat and throttle him with the handle of his own scythe.

Maybe.

Your head tilted, and you blinked.

“This one,” you toss the file to your mother’s desk and watch it hit off-center. the woman’s face twitches at the monster-esc profile. It’s like she ages ten years.

“...Lovely.”

—

One day later you meet Nikto, but before you do, you make a quick visit to the hospital with a bundle of fresh flowers. You’d brokenly asked for blue and white, but you can’t verify if that was really what you were holding.

At the front desk, you ask for room three and are simply pointed down the hallway without a word. A small smile is handed over, but no one answers as you slink away, guiding your legs along the lines of the tile on the ground. Standing outside you knock softly and grasp the handle, pushing it open after a deep breath.

The Baker’s Boy lays in a bed and his dark eyes snap to yours immediately, widening. His curls are crisped and shorter now, singed at the ends. Arms taped with bandages and gauze, his wounds are not wide-spread but severe enough to keep him for longer than you and Alyona.

“Sergei?” You ask, standing in the doorway and plastering a soft smile on your face. You’d gotten his name through a text with Aly, where she asked you to give him a kind word as you dropped off your gift.

Sergi blinks quickly at you, and something like fear slashes his face. You raise your hands rapidly, flowers in the crook of your elbow.

“N-no, I’m sorry. I know you’ve probably heard a lot about me, the news has been…uh…” Your words trail to a fake chuff of laughter, looking to the side wall for a moment. “Well, it’s not right of me to take no blame.” The man only stares and stays silent, sitting up straighter in bed and thinning his lips. His body is tense.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to drop these off. I-I’ll leave.” Walking quickly to the side table, you place down the flowers and clear your throat, sending him a very guilty glance. “The woman I was with gives her well-wishes for your recovery. I’m sorry,” you say again, nodding your head and locking your hands in front of your abdomen.

Turning on your feet like an elite track star, you dart quickly back to the door.

“Girl.” You halt in the doorway, one arm quivering just as it had before the explosion. Your head swivels, surprised.

Sergi gazes at you, his dark eyes large and serious, tinged with unease. His English is barely understandable, and he struggles through the words with an accent so deep it’s a series of throaty grunts.

“Do not come back.”

Your lungs tighten as if someone squeezes them in a ruthless fist. Nodding shakily, you dash out and don’t stop until you’re back outside, breathing in gasps and putting a hand to your mouth to stifle your ragged breaths. People who come and go look at you as you lean heavily into the wall, some concernedly furrowing their brows but ultimately walking past.

You suppose they didn’t recognize you in all of the normal clothes—a thick turtleneck under a jacket and sweatpants. No makeup with a ball cap atop your head. Clearing your dry throat, you get a hold of yourself and keep your face down-cast, slithering off with a zig-zag pattern of feet.

It’s okay. It’s okay. He has a right to feel like that. It’s going to be okay.

But it doesn’t stop the pit in your heart from growing until it threatens to swallow you whole.

It’s only when you’re five minutes late to the Consulate building that your mother levels you with an unimpressed look, standing at the entrance with her arms crossed. You walk quickly to hide the rings around your eyes from her, not wanting to start an argument about what went wrong.

“He’s been here for half an hour, Seraph,” you cringe, waving to the woman at the front desk who nods and gives a pitying tilt of her head.

Half an hour? Talk about a time freak.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just lost track of time.” Hands take you by the side of your arms and swivel you back around as you hang up your jacket, making you flinch but go along with the action.

Your mother levels you with a stare that the long it goes on, eases. It mingles on the border of comfort and concern before she awkwardly squeezes and lets go of you, eyelids blinking to study the trash can near the door.

“Stop…apologizing, Beauty.” The curtain re-falls and your mom stands straighter, brushing down her fitted blouse and clearing her throat. “It’s unbecoming. Now, remember to smile—everyone loves your smile.”

You hide your yearning and plaster on a fake grin, feeling nervousness infecting your blood.

In your career, meeting new people was a requirement. Photographers, other models, business associates who reach out for brand deals; the list was long. Beyond a desirable body and the mask of provocative expressions, physical image was only a part of it—being good at playing sales broker added to appeal. At the parties AMA shipped you off to, especially.

Alyona often called the two of you exceptionally well-paid and up-standing sex workers, but withholding the intimacy of sheets and panting breath. You sold the idea of sex just by being there, which, oftentimes, is far better than the sin of flesh itself. Your agency knows it well.

Your face was an asset; just like your body and expressions—a tool.

But somehow you knew that whatever face you put on, model or the woman who’d just seen immense horror, it wouldn’t matter in the slightest. Just on a picture alone, Nikto had ingrained himself in your mind as an idol of seriousness and blunt orders. Not like Yefim, but somehow that made you feel better about this situation. It was even the reason you had chosen him in the first place.

No getting close to this one, you reason as your mother guides you down a hallway, hand firm on your back.

“Is there anything I can know besides his name?” Watching room after room passes you, you’re brought to the far back of the Consulate building. You study the large wooden door.

It’s a moment before your mom responds, rubbing lightly along your spine. “I’ve heard he’s a former FSB Agent. Spetsnaz as well. He has an extensive record, but no...concerns to worry about. You’re in exceptionally good hands.”

“Concerns?” A huff. “Like if he’ll kill me before the creep has the chance,” you’re leveled with a stiff look.

“No one is going to die, Seraph.” People already have.

With a frown, you grasp the handle and shrug off your mother’s touch, entering the room and letting the door shut behind you with a thump as you pad through. It’s only a millisecond, but you plaster back on a content expression and loosen your muscles; the internal warfare of constant tension makes everything ache.

You lock eyes with a standing absence of light.

In person, he was even more dark…and you didn’t just mean the outfit. Staring, bright eyes dig into your soul with no emotions—so departed from normal expression it’s like looking into a corpse.

Nikto’s standing with his hands behind his back, his shoulders loose but pulled with soldier-like authority. He’s tall, and the large bulk of his chest and thighs make you swallow down saliva as you stand still and blink quickly. His stomach bulges with muscle from under his armor—the same you’d seen in his profile.

The Russian was all the same except for the lack of weapons, though, the duffel bag at his side certainly held them in its inky depths.

He’s built like a damn brick wall, your mind blanks, not lying with the feelings of slight unease. Nikto was just…still. Not blinking. Watching you with a gleam of something strange. The Russian man’s eyes narrow with…disgust? Maybe you were reading too much into that, but one thing was certain.

He was studying you... aggressively. Prodding.

A second passes like this.

Oh, your face remains a plastered calm but your heart skips a beat, he’s waiting for me to introduce myself. You quickly clear your throat and walk forward, not seeing the way he tenses and sets his feet harder into the ground.

“Umh,” scolding yourself for your hesitation, you shakily put out a hand for him to shake, keeping a respectable distance away.

Finally, a slight movement; a dart of his eyes down to your limb.

“I’m Seraph, nice to meet you. You go by Nikto, right? Just Nikto…? I’m sorry, that was all I was able to read on your file.” You’re blinked at slowly, left gazing up into this beast's covered face and his terrifying mask of fabric and rigid material.

How tall can a man be before it becomes insulting to be standing next to him?

As the silence continues, your hand stutters before you let it fall, awkwardly stuffing it into your pocket.

Alright.

“There was…” You lick your lips, glancing off to a gray picture on the far wall. “A lot of black ink, to be honest. Quite the record, huh?”

A strained chuckle bounces off the small space.

Nikto doesn’t respond and you blink quickly through confusion and growing embarrassment. Your face burns like a heat gun was set on it. A highly uncomfortable silence falls, but you very much doubt that the man in front of you even feels it like you do—a slow deterioration of your confidence.

And why in the hell was he still looking at you like that?! All you’d done is walk through the damn door and lock eyes with him!

But then he speaks as you’re just about to turn away and walk out of the room with your tail between your legs, mentally exhausted and needing to put ice on your forehead.

“Seraph, like angel?” Broken English, but better than Sergi’s. What caught you was the depth of it—the rough scrape of vocal cords and raspy grit. Sandpaper, nearly. You restrain yourself from cringing. Nikto scoffs and he looks away from you, stance immobile. “You do not look like angel.”

Your mind takes a moment to latch onto the words, jaw slackening in shock and lashes fluttering for a second. “E…excuse me?”

Nikto grunts and glares at the door.

It’s your turn to stare, mouth opening and closing with small smacks of lips with a sudden blankness to your brain. Your ability to speak seems to leave you in a small instant between the stab of insult and brief anger. While you felt yourself above the base instinct of vexation, Nikto’s words had soaked you in their substance of prodding bluntness.

Your beauty was all you had, certainly, he hadn’t meant that. Surely it was just a translation error. Your lips darken with a frown, eyes flashing.

But something else pierces you in the chest, too.

Without another exchange, you turn around and begin walking to the exit, hands in your pockets clenched into your palms. There’s a silent padding of feet right behind you and the shuffle of a duffel bag. Your body freezes and you slowly look over your shoulder.

The Void follows, bag in hand and dead eyes peeling back your psyche as if this was normal; you find him a few steps forward from where he was, like your own personal shadow.

He freezes as you do, but this is more… purposeful. Both of you lock gazes, nothingness and veiled discourse flaring.

But you were better than that.

You had to be better.

So you soften your expression and, under your breath, sigh heavily. “I’ll write you up my schedule,” Nikto blinks, brows barely pulling in. “Get you a copy from AMA or something.”

“Already acquired.” His hulking figure seems to always be tense and ready to strike. For a second you’re reminded of Petya with a sharp slap to your face. But Nikto’s bark is far sterner if that was even possible. Almost like a single sound.

You bring a hand to itch at your temple, stopping before you can peel at the soft skin covered in scar cream.

“...Right,” at a slight loss of what to do, you shuffle your feet and open the door—leaving the room and holding the thing partially open behind you for the Russian. “Of course.” Your grumble only meets your ears, put off.

Nikto moves out of the doorway, having to slightly tilt his shoulders to fit through the opening without slamming into the frame. He does so fluidly and almost robotically.

“Has anyone ever told you that you walk like a scary dog?” You let go of the door and pull ahead, smiling somewhat more real as the light eyes snap down at you. There’s a brief grunt of breath from behind his mask.

Nikto is silent for a long while, growling out, “Hет.” Formal. Brisk.

No.

You get the feeling that you’re annoying him, but you can’t help but slightly enjoy it. Finally, some semblance of normality you could cling to. “Well, they should,” you admit, studying the loping walk—a slightly tilted pace that would suit a wolf or a bear, even. Making sure your own hand slides against the wall to keep you in a straight line, you continue, cheekily. “Because you do.”

Nikto stares straight ahead and stays silent, something akin to irritation in his visible portions; free hand twitching. You tilt your head.

“Y’know, this would be better if you could hold a conversation.”

“Да.” You smile wider.

“So you’ll have a conversation with me?”

“Hет.” Nikto glares from a side-eye, the words hissed through clenched teeth. If he was this easy to rile up, this would be more fun than you thought.

Your eyes linger on his form, the biceps, and the forearms that strain behind padded pieces of thick material. Combat boots and loose black cargo pants shoved into them.

This might be a good distraction, at the very least. Let the authorities work in the background and keep this cut of the crop. No feelings, of course. Not like Yefim, you remind yourself again. Never again like Yefim.

The dead man’s face slips behind your eyelids and you blink your face forward.

“Are you only going to say ‘yes’ or ‘no?’” Nikto’s bulk enshrouds you heavily as you take a right back to the lobby where your mother waits. He hums in his throat, before muttering something under his breath in harsh Russian. You have no idea what that means or if you even want to decipher it, you shrug and shut up.

It was probably a curse anyway. Or a plea for reassignment.

Your mother’s face pulls tight as Nikto shows himself beside you, his sights locking onto the Consul as you grab your jacket, missing the hook once before you grasp it firmly and slip it on.

“If everything is in order…?” She trails, before frowning at the man and coming over to you.

“We can always find a way to bring you back to the States,” you blink, her face serious as it slashes through you. “Get your passport up to date and find a different modeling agency.”

What’s with the change in attitude? You ask yourself, brows pulling in and studying your mom’s expression. She’s older, but maybe you’re only realizing it now that you care to look. Wrinkles and a certain film to her gaze that parents seem to grow when they’re trying to convince you of something.

Nikto watches and listens closely a few feet from the door, duffel bag still in hand.

“You know that’s not an option. Allurement is exclusive—I won’t get a better deal than the one I have.” Your words come out confused. “Weren’t you the one that told me this was the best option, that they would be the only ones to take me?” You pause. “Especially with the way I am?”

Her face twists, shaking her head instantly with a scrunched nose and flashing orbs. Even mentioning what happened made her act like water near the brim of a glass; one shake and the liquid would seep over and pool to the counter. “I don’t remember saying that.”

You close your mouth before changing the subject, offering an easy, yet strained, smile.

“I’m going to be okay, Mom. Besides, the guy’ll get caught before we know it. All of them do. Petya, Aleksandr, and Yefim,” your voice tightens, “will get to rest easy.”

Your matriarch gives a small twitch of her lips back, kisses your forehead, and says, “Alright, Beauty,” you hide your cringe, “I’m one call away.”

She walks off with a click of her heels.

“Girl,” you look up from zipping your jacket. Nikto glares at you. “быстро. Hurry up.”

“Hurry up?” Your voice bounces as you make your way to the exit, sending a thinly hidden face of amusement. “I’m just going home, there’s no rush to things.”

“We need to secure the premises.”

We? You nearly ask, wondering what he meant. Obviously, he didn’t mean you and him, based on general attitude right now. Maybe that was just a strange quirk of his.

“Around my penthouse?” Nikto’s shoulder presses on the barrier and he’s outside before you can finish your sentence. You narrowly catch the door and slip past like a horrible snake, elbow slapping the frame—you hold back a hiss and enter the street. “I…I don’t think it’s overly necessary, the police move through that area a lot—”

“Not the penthouse, Whelp,” you struggle along, feet rapid to stay at his side and multitask by staying in a line. He walks in long strides, parting people away from him with only a sharp glance and a scoff. “Inside.”

Your body halts before you blink back to your senses and make a noise in the back of your throat.

“I-inside, Nikto? I’m sorry, I’m not following.” You huff under your breath and stick beside him, using his presence as a sort of barrier. He walks near the road. “I never agreed to that. And Whelp? What the hell, man?”

“I do not care.”

“You’re just a ray of sunshine, aren’t you?” You grumble, sighing.

I guess I’m having guests.

Has your mother given permission for that? A stranger with weapons thumping inside of your penthouse like he was your live-in boy toy? Eating in your kitchen and putting his feet up on the coffee table? God, the public would have a field day with it when they saw him walking down with you in the morning to go to work.

He couldn’t have been put in the building across the street? But you suppose there are worse things that can happen—you have the space for it. With a dejected expression, you sigh; you seem to be doing that a lot recently.

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Nikto stares down at you as your feet stutter along, seeming to raise a brow in annoyed question as to why you were struggling to keep up.

You wondered how much he had been told beyond some rich Consul's daughter needed a new bodyguard. Did he know any of it?

“What?” Your lips twist, smile flicking out. “See something you like?”

“No. You’re slow.” You hide your groan and face forward, brows falling into a line.

But you’re not oblivious to the way his piercing eyes survey the crowd, and while the mask is drawing attention, random people peeping break off like sticks as he’s clocked by you, darting to make room. How his large shoulders span and block the road from you, pace pulling back to fit right behind you with a low grunt as your arms brush.

A grunter too—he really is a scary dog.

“Why do you walk like this,” Nikto growls. “Are you unable to feel your feet? It is pathetic.”

“Are you going to stop insulting me?” You glare ahead and cross your arms. “Or are you going to keep playing the jerk until this is over?”

His eyes burn into yours for a moment, before he places such a heavy hand on your shoulder that you almost squeak at the pressure. It nearly slants you forward before your back tightens.

“Keep quiet. Walk.”

“Well, now I don’t think I’m going to,” his eyes flash, those colorless films going into themselves with tiny flecks of surprise. You suppose no one’s ever had banter like this with him before, being in a PMC…or really just being him as a whole. He doesn’t seem the joking type over a back-handed sarcastic comment.

“So, how has your day been, Nikto?” Your voice is smug and your smile large, perfect and bright, and ravishing. “Today I woke up at five AM and ate an apple with yogurt. Then I—”

Nikto growls deeply and forces you on through a gawking crowd.

The rest of the walk is filled with a one-sided conversation coming from a grinning face, pale, boiling eyes, and the shadow across the street who watches through the thin glass of a bookstore. The perfect view.

A hat on his head.

A slight distance to his addled expression.

A medium slip-joint knife in his pocket.

TAGS:

@anna-banana27, @random-thot-generator, @midwesternwitchery, @pumpkinwitchcrusade, @halfmoth-halfman, @alpineswinter, @blingblong55, @cryingnotcrying, @lxne20, @not-eclipse, @theecoffeebean, @phoenixhalliwell, @h3ll-guttz, @tiinkerbell, @genjilvr, @azush4rp, @escapefromrealitysm, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @finnigansxz, @cowboybaby2, @delaynew, @doggydale, @zapphir, @littlemisstrouble, @xxtmoe, @grizzersmamma, @andreas-river, @blogdddxx, @jade-jax, @emthegrace, @lovebugmsyd, @makariaspresence, @noisyprofessorhoundsalad-blog, @scythebot, @blueoorchid, @kra-rino4ka, @caramlizedtomatos, @strawberymilk,@frazie99, @homicidal-slvt, @develised, @crispyhusband, @cathnoneofyourbusiness, @ghostslittlegf, @generalcloudtraveler-blog, @azsteris, @rvjaa, @creminemisinthehizzyforshizzboy, @comsyki

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milfsloverblog · 1 year

Note

hello! I love your Larissa fic and I was wondering if you would write for Jane Murdstone (ik she is a red flag but I’m colorblind) ? Jane and reader are in a secret relationship, maybe a oneshot about reader waking up in Jane’s bed after they spent the night together ? Some fluff and angst ? Thank you 🛐

A/N: Hi anon!! Thank you for your request, sorry it took me so long to write it. I’m in post con/post meeting Gwen depression lol. I hope this exceeds your expectations, I added some smut because why not ? Thank you again for the request <3

Unlace me (NSFW)

Jane Murdstone x fem!reader

TW: smut, internalised homophobia, Jane is a tw in herself

You could talk about it for hours, the feeling of waking up next to Jane for the first time. And yet it was indescribable.

—————

Jane had waltzed into your life a few months ago when her brother had married your Lady. You knew right away that she would be trouble, not only in your Lady’s household but in your personal life too.

What had struck you first was, of course, her height. When she had walked into the kitchen where you had been working to introduce herself, you looked up right in time to see her duck to get through the door. Her face had been hidden by her black bonnet and when she finally lifted her head, you dropped the whisk that you had been holding. Her cerulean eyes looked you up and down and the corner of her lips tugged into what you later learnt to be Jane’s way of smiling.

Your Lady had told you that Miss Murdstone would be living at the manor, ostensibly to relieve you of some of the housework. It didn’t make much sense to you as you’d never complain about the number of chores you had to do, but it was not your place to question your Lady’s decision. Quickly after that, the Murdstones siblings moved into the manor.

It didn’t take you long to realise that Jane Murdstone thought of herself as superior to you, and treated you more as her maid than a fellow housekeeper. And so you had found yourself, more often than not, caring for the tall woman’s needs. Not that you minded, you would be a fool to complain about tending to a woman like Jane.

You had been another kind of fool though, for your heart skipped a beat every time Jane’s eyes bored into yours and your knees went weak each time your name was on her lips. You still had a hard time admitting that you had fallen in love. Not only had you fallen for a woman, but a cruel one at that. One who only seemed to acknowledge you when she needed someone to brush her hair or unlace her corset.

But then again, you didn’t mind. You thought there was something deeply intimate in unlacing the woman’s corset, allowing her to close her eyes and take a deep breath as she stretched her back.

Jane rarely said a word as you helped her disrobe before leading her to the dressing table. You would take the pins off her hair and carefully brush through it, your fingers often lingering there for a second too long once you were done braiding it. And if Jane noticed, she never mentioned it.

Once that was done she would usually gesture towards the door, silently letting you know that your help wasn’t needed anymore. You would nod and leave the room, never forgetting to wish the woman a good night. Jane never answered, but as soon as you were out of the room her lips always spread in a small smile as her fingertips grazed her braided hair. Perhaps she was a foolish woman too.

—————————

You knew that evening would be different as soon as the woman stepped foot inside the manor. You heard her climb the stairs two at a time and close her bedroom door a little too vigorously.

“Miss Murdstone ?” You called from the hallway, waiting for permission to walk in. After a few long seconds of silence, you decided to push the door open and walked inside the room. Jane was standing in front of the tall mirror, hands twisted in her back as she unsuccessfully tried to loosen up her corset. She was muttering something under her breath that sounded unintelligible to you, making her look like a crazy woman.

“Let me help you, I will unlace it.” You said as you took a few long strides, hands reaching for the woman’s back.

“Keep your dirty hands off me!” Jane immediately snapped at you, making your heart squeeze painfully in your chest. “I do not need your help. I do not need you, or anyone else for that matter!” She said nearly out of breath, hands still fumbling with the lacing on the back of her corset.

“Jane for Heaven’s sake! You will make yourself faint, let me help!” You said urgently, so urgently that you didn’t notice you had used her first name until she spun around to face you, her eyes wide and her face flushed.

“How dare you ?!” The tall woman spat the words out and raised her hand, making you flinch as you waited for her palm to hit your cheek.

Jane realised what she was about to do as soon as you flinched and her hand immediately dropped to the side of her body. You were scared of her. You were expecting her to hit you. And she almost had.

A strange feeling crept inside the woman’s chest, making her take a step closer to you.

I am so sorry, please forgive me. Jane wanted to say, but she was unable to. She’d never said those words before and they died in her throat before she even managed to push them out to you.

You watched as Jane’s brows furrowed, her mouth falling slightly open as she seemed to be searching for something to say. Her eyes were filled with something you’d never seen in them, something you did not think Jane Murdstone could feel. Remorse. Guilt.

“I love you.” You whispered barely audibly, eyes still locked on her face. You had no idea why you’d said it, but you did. You knew Jane thrived on power, and you had just given her the power to ruin your life with this simple admission.

And so you waited for her harsh and cruel words to hit you, for her to call you unnatural or deviant, but she didn’t. She let out a shaky breath and the next second her lips were crashing against yours.

It wasn’t soft nor sweet, Jane’s kiss was almost as demanding and almost as bruising as she was. You couldn’t help but wonder if she had wanted this for as long as you had, thought about you the way you had thought about her.

You grabbed her waist, your fingers digging into the fabric of her corset as you pulled the woman impossibly closer. Don’t let go, you wanted to say. But you wouldn’t take the risk to pull away from her lips to speak, too afraid to ruin this moment.

Jane eventually broke the kiss, her blue eyes searching for yours. “Speak.” the word came out sounding like an order and she cleared her throat, her voice softer when she added, “Tell me what you want, what this means to you.”

“You.” You answered, your hand moving to cup her cheek. “I want everything you are willing to give me. I have no idea what this means, I simply…want you.”

The older woman blinked a couple of times, taking in your words. When had anyone ever wanted her? She knew what people thought and said about her, most of it being true. But you, you’d always been nothing but nice to her, even when she rarely returned your kindness.

This isn’t right, Jane. You can not, you should not, the thoughts flooded the woman’s mind.

You could see the fight that was happening inside the tall woman and gently rubbed your thumb on her cheek. “Jane…” you whispered and her blue eyes bored into yours again. You got on your tiptoe and claimed the woman’s lips, making Jane’s hesitation wholly dissipate in an instant.

It was only a matter of seconds before Jane took control of the kiss again, her hands grabbing your waist to push you up against the wall.

Your heart started racing in your chest when you felt one of her hands bunching up your dress. You had never done anything like this before and by the look of it, Jane had way more knowledge on the subject than you did.

Her fingers grasped a handful of your hair, tipping your head back to latch her lips on your neck. You couldn’t hold back the whimper that passed your lips when her mouth sucked on a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear.

“You are such a sweet girl, offering yourself to me so easily.” She whispered in your ear, her hand slipping inside your knickers only to find you soaked. “Have you been thinking about this ?” She wondered aloud.

You felt dizzy, your head spinning when her fingertips grazed your clit. “Please-“ you whined, not even knowing what you were begging for.

“Please-“ Jane mocked you, a low chuckle escaping her throat.

“Look at me.” She demanded and you happily obliged, the tall woman relishing the way your eyes widened when she pushed two fingers inside you until she was in knuckle deep.

There was nothing like it, Jane thought, watching a woman being made love to for the first time. And to be the one making love to her.

You knew Jane was a passionate woman and the way she pulled and pushed her fingers in and out of you in a perfect rhythm only further proved it. And just when you thought it couldn’t get better, the older woman curved her digits inside you to rub on a spot that had you writhing against her in a couple of minutes.

“Can you feel it ?” She asked looking into your eyes. “The coil tightening inside you? How close it is to snapping ?”

You answered something unintelligible, your mind hazy from the incessant movements of Jane’s fingers inside you. All you could focus on were the sinful wet noises coming from between your thighs.

You felt something, yes, something growing inside you and on the verge of exploding. And for a second you feared that this is what dying felt like. Oh, what a beautiful way to go it would be, you thought, to die in the arms of the woman you loved and with her lips on your neck.

“I wish we could let the whole household hear you. What would your lady think knowing you are nothing but a depraved whore, fucking a woman under her roof…” Jane grinned, giving your collarbone a harsh nip.

To hell with your lady and the whole household, you’d let the whole world know you were in love with Jane Murdstone if only you could.

“Look at me, please.” You managed to say, feeling your core tighten around Jane’s fingers when her blue eyes locked with yours.

You threw your head back against the wall, the older woman’s name leaving your lips in a streak of moans as you came.

Jane didn’t let it show, but her heart swelled with a feeling she hadn’t felt in a long while, making her hold you a little closer as you came down from your high.

“I love you, Jane.” You repeated, a small giggle escaping your throat as you watched Jane’s cheeks turn a pinkish colour.

“Silly girl.” She simply answered with a shake of the head and turned her back to you. You quickly unlaced her corset and helped her out of her heavy black dress.

You expected her to dismiss you as soon as you’re done braiding her hair but instead, Jane turned around and unbuttoned your dress, leaving you in your underwear.

“Stay for the night.” You knew it was neither a question nor an offer, not that you would have declined anyway.

It felt weird, lying down next to someone else. Next to her. Next to the woman you loved. You wanted to ask what this meant, if there would be more moments like this, or if it had just been a one-time instance. But you stayed quiet, listening to Jane’s breathing becoming slower and evening out as she fell asleep.

“I love you.” You whispered, knowing the older woman couldn’t hear it this time.

—————————

You watched as Jane’s eyes slowly fluttered open and it was the sweetest thing really, waking up next to the woman you loved. But it made you want to cry knowing it was morning and this moment wouldn’t last. In just a moment she would go back to being the cold and often cruel Miss Murdstone, and you would go back to being a housekeeper. But it didn’t matter, you thought, not now that you knew what it felt like to be kissed by her lips and touched by her hands. No, it didn’t matter anymore. You would walk through Hell and back for a chance to wake up next to her again.

#gwendoline christie #jane murdstone #jane murdstone x reader #the personal history of david copperfield #jane Murdstone fic #jane is a red flag but we’re colourblind #what can I say I love mean women #my requests are open btw

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thelargefrye · 1 year

Note

(colorblind was rlly good !!)

For the title game, how about “broken hearts, some cavities” ?

BROKEN HEARTS, SOME CAVITIES

pairing : idol!woosansang x f!reader genre : hurt / comfort, established relationship warnings : language, not confident in your relationship, crying, san is grossly in love with yn

when san came back to the dorm after his practice, he was surprised to see you there. you were cuddled up on the couch between wooyoung and yeosang, you and the wooyoung were fast asleep, leaning on each other and a blanket thrown over the two of you.

yeosang on the other hand was awake, eating popcorn and watching gravity falls for probably the hundredth time in the past six months. san knew how much you loved the show and so yeosang was always willing to watch it with you whenever you came over.

as he walked further into the living room, yeosang looked over and greeted san with a smile.

“how long have they been asleep?” san asks his bandmate as he crouches in front of you. now he fully takes in your and wooyoung’s positions, you resting your head on wooyoung’s shoulder and wooyoung resting his head on top of yours.

“maybe an hour. y/n came over earlier because apparently you guys were suppose to hangout today,” oh shit, he was suppose to hangout with you today. that’s why you were texting him earlier asking when he would be done with practicing and he completely forgot and blew you off.

he feels guilty for having gotten annoyed with you, and for ignoring your texts. you were just wanting to hangout like he promised and he was just blowing you off.

“i know it’s not my place but… how you treated her today really hurt her. she told woo and i how she’s worried about being a good girlfriend to you and that’s she thinks you’re growing tired of her. i think us being on tour really messed with her confidence or something,” yeosang said, his voice hushed as to not wake you or wooyoung, but san could clearly hear the worry in his voice.

“i know i was a major jerk to her. i should have come home hours ago, fuck, i’m such a bad boyfriend.”

“you’re not a bad boyfriend, sannie, you made one jerk mistake and i know you’ll make it up to her.”

“i am a bad boyfriend!” san could feel the tears beginning to form in his eyes, “how long has she been feeling like this? feeling like i’m growing tired of her when i love her so much it hurts.”

yeosang doesn’t say anything, instead he places the bowl aside and tugs the dancer into his arms. yeosang knows how much san loves you, he knows he could never grow tired of you. when they were at their hotels or sightseeing, you were all he talked about. anything that reminded him of you, he bought it.

at this point san couldn’t stop the sob that escapes him and the sound is what catches your sleep-filled brain. somehow registering that san was close and so you opened your eyes, head being weighed down slightly by wooyoung’s.

“sannie…” your voice is still sleep-filled as you turn to look at san still being held in yeosang’s arms. “san, what’s wrong?”

you gently take his face into your hands, tears running down his flushed face and the sight alone is enough to make your heart hurt.

“i love you so much, y/n, please don’t think i could ever get tired of you,” he says catching you off guard. you look to yeosang who refuses to meet your eyes.

your a little hurt by the fact that yeosang would tell san something you told him and wooyoung in secrecy. him betraying your trust when you were vulnerable and crying. but you’ll deal with him later.

“i’m so sorry for being a jerk to you today. i can’t excuse my actions, i forgot our promise and was a jerk to you. please forgive me, i’ll make it up to you.”

“san, of course i forgive you, i love you too,” you say as you rest your forehead against his own. a moment passes before san is pressing his lips to yours in a slow and passionate kiss.

“hey take it to your room, san, before one of the others come out and see you two,” yeosang says nudge you both with his hand.

you pull away and san immediately picks you up from the couch and takes you to his room. yeosang watches the two of you, not being able to ignore the just pure love you have for each other. he feels his own heart clench slightly at the sight before his eyes filter over to wooyoung who only just now waking up.

“where’s y/n?”

“with san.”

“oh… oh. so i guess they’re going to make up?”

“yeah.”

“good, good, hey yeo?”

“what?”

“do you… love them too?”

yeosang pauses for a moment to let the question sink in, “yeah. i do.”

#ateez x reader #ateez blurbs #ateez imagines #poly ateez x reader #ateez wooyoung x reader #ateez san x reader #ateez yeosang x reader #ateez fluff #ʚ・◞🍥 // ask game.

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pbs-theundeadmaggot · 3 months

Text

Stay

Steve Harrington x fem!reader

[a/n] sorry for the lack of posts for valen-cries I’m still working on my requests but I thought I’d finish this wip. Also if it wasn't obvious this is a songfic based on stay by Colorblind

[warnings!] self deprecation, metaphorical abuse? Implication of drugs but not actually taking any cause it’s also metaphorical. Its just angsty and ambiguous, feel free to interpret the ending how you wish.

Valen-cries masterlist available here!

Abuse me, I like the punishment

You keep me focused, I don't need no Ritalin

I like when you keep me guessing, its alright

Its alright

It was only supposed to be one night but one night turned into two., two to three until there were too many to count. It had started with just some light flirting and the odd touch yet it quickly became so much more, so much so that you weren’t sure where you stood anymore.

Steve was so persuasive with his sweet whispers and cheeky looks, how could you refuse? It didn’t help that you had a major crush on him back in high school and the moment he’d so much as looked your way, you’d fallen again.

How pathetic, here you were fighting off your feelings for a guy who only ever saw you as a fuck buddy. Just another toy to warm his bed like numerous others before you, as if you even stood a chance. However, saying that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

Can we turn our feelings off?

I need you baby, just for one night,

One night

He’d call at the same time every night you spent apart, his gravely voice sending chills down your spine in the silence of your bedroom, where the boundaries of friendship and romance blurred across the distance. Some nights you’d talk for hours and hours, others simply bask in each others silence finding the need for words overrated.

In the darkness of the night you’d find yourself tracing over the freckles and faint scars that kissed his skin, trying to memorise every inch of him as if he would disappear at any second. If you could contain this memory forever you would, alas that would only make the pain harder when you inevitably parted.

I know what you’re looking for,

You make it feel like its the first time, every time

Every time

Coming down from the high was always difficult, doubt crippling you as you lay cold and empty. You tell yourself it will be the last time and it never is, the unhealthy hold he has over you enticing you back again and again. Unsure of wether you could do this anymore and chest tightening with every breath, what other choice was there but to run?

I don't really wanna fight right now,

I don't really see the point right now,

And if the love wasn’t real enough what the hell we gonna do when the truth comes out?

Steve wasn’t really one for commitment, you both knew that, so why did it hurt so much watching you leave each time? Would you stay if he asked? Or were you only in it for the sex? He had no right to ask, his reputation made sure of that but that didn’t stop the conflicting feelings threatening to spill with your presence.

I’d rather start it on a blank page,

I think I like it with a new face

You dont wanna wait for me, its safe to be

Stuck inside this place where we keep faking things,

Running in circles looking for an end that didn’t exist seemed pointless but anything was easier than confronting your feelings, even uncertainty felt more stable than the mess you were floating in, head barley above water and still refusing to swim. You hadn’t realised that in the ocean of your mind Steve had been searching for you, begging you to stay afloat with him.

I think you’re finally breaking me,

The way it seems you’re making me,

Stay

#stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #steve harrington #steve stranger things #steve harrington imagine #stranger things x reader #x reader #steve harrington stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington angst #joe keery fanfiction #joe keery imagine #pbs-thedesecrated #stranger things au #steve harrington au

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strawbubbysugar · 9 months

Note

Hi hello I binged your fic in two days, scrolled through the tag until chapter one and I am full of ✨questions✨

So Matt sees both his wife’s and DJ’s as green, right? Is that bc green’s his favorite color? And that’s why he confused his wife’s string as romantic?

Did Matt’s wife divorce him after the DJ realization or did she die during childbirth? By the little info it sounds like he has full custody of Maddie??

If Matt’s wife IS dead, what happened to the string? In general what would happen if a soulmate died? Does the string disappear?

Idk if I’m overthinking it, but is Monty becoming.. too friendly? Based on the latest chapter with the tail wagging, I feel like he’s become more invested with YNgineer? Maybe he has a platonic string with them? Again, might be overthinking???

Saw some art with Rockstar YN in the So(u)l tag and I COULDNT HELP BUT NOTICE they’re wearing sun and moon colors?? Have they unconsciously been wearing their colors even before their awakening because that’s ADORABLE

So I know YNgineer’s string is silver/grey for the DCA because colorblind, but did you have a specific color in mind, like if YN COULD see color, what would their fav color be? Or is that reader interpretation? In which case fair lol

YNGINEER WROTE A SONG FOR SUN IM???????? THATS SO CUTE AND I HAVE TO KNOW IF THERES ANOTHER SONG FOR MOON? Chapter cliffhanger got me bad man I sense incoming angst but auuughhhhhh I hope they get back to fun sleepover times soon!!

Tysm for an amazing fic love it so much! The chapter lengths are so delightful! Not too short and not too long! Idk if that’s intentional but chefs kiss!! Looking forward to more, but of course no pressure!!! Take care of yourself!! Sorry if any of the questions are spoilery but I can’t wait to find the answers one way or another! 👁️👁️

^^ I recommend goin through the blog since I dont tag everything as so(u)l and a lotta these questions are answered!! Ill answer the ones that havent been/are incorrect though!!

Matt saw his wifes as a dusty green, and he sees the DJ's as rainbow. Dj sees his string with Matt as a more electric green, woven with black! already answered! When your soulmate dies, the markings you had for them fade even more than they already wouldve if both of you confirmed the bond. Theyre still there though, they just lose all colour. shrug! hehehehe Silvery would still be the colour I imagine, though with more of a hint of teal! Its really up to reader interpretation though :) There is another song for moon! :)

#ask #so(u)l spoilers #so(u)l lore #^^ hehe tysm!!

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cassiefromhell · 8 months

Text

Cursed Creatures: Chapter Two, "Stupid Ideas"

Chapter One

fanbase: jjk

S. Gojo x Reader x Sukuna

Summary: After a long night of hunting, you come up with a plan - probably a very bad idea, actually.

WC: 4.9k

Warnings: none on this chapter

A/N: Requests are open.

This is a bad idea.

A very bad idea.

My human soul screams at me, yet I continue my trek. Coated in curse blood, body aching, I make my way to the student dormitories. The sun has yet to rise, shying away under the horizon, as if it too is avoiding my plan.

It takes me less than a minute at my speed to reach the window I want. I slip in, knowing he isn’t asleep. I’ve spoken to him about sleeping hours, and know for a fact that he wakes up before sunrise to shower, get some work done, and then nap until classes start.

“Psst.”

“Jesus shit fuck—“ Fushiguro exclaims, stumbling back from the bathroom door, where he just emerged in a towel.

“Sorry,” I whisper, raising a finger to my lips in a plea to keep quiet. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I need a hand with something. I trust you to help.”

His eyes flick over me, and he frowns. I’m sure he’s disapproving of the blood that’s seeped into the leather fighting gear I summoned and donned. Dripping onto his floor.

“The blood is for a purpose.”

“…Sure,” he crosses to the dresser and pulls out a pair of pants. “What do you need?”

I turn, allowing him the privacy to change. “I’m going to say a little hello to Sukuna.”

“What?” He hisses, and I feel his gaze scorching the back of my neck. “Gojo said you were revealing yourself to him tomorrow, in front of him and the council.”

“Yes, well I gave the council a few.., white lies, about my full history with Sukuna,” I chew one of my long nail-claws. “His reaction may be different than they initially expect.”

Fushiguro sighs and grumbles something incoherent under his breath, and then he steps out in front of me, now donning a uniform. “What do I need to do?”

“Stand guard. Give me a demon dog, and I’ll bring it with me. I’ll send it back with red or green fabric: red means I fucked up and you need to go alert the council, and more importantly Gojo, while green means you can go to bed and sleep peacefully knowing that hell has not broken loose,” I explain, pulling two scarves out of the pockets at my thighs. “Easy peasy.”

He seems wary, eyes flicking between me and the fabrics. He frowns, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Don’t tell me you’re colorblind.”

He snorts, but shakes his head and moves for the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

I grin, patting the boy on the shoulder with my only bloodless hand. He winces anyway, but leads the way towards what I assume must be Itadori’s room.

At the end of the hall, he gestures towards a door and summons a pitch black hound to his side. It pants happily in my presence, and I give it a good pat.

“This is his room.”

“Is he a heavy sleeper?”

He snorts, nodding. “It’s an effort to get him up for classes.”

I give him one final confirming gesture, and slowly open the door. I levitate myself off the ground, not leaving any bloodied footprints as I slip into the bedroom, allowing the dog in with me before saluting Fushiguro and clicking the door shut.

I motion for the dog to be quiet, and I slip through the room, finding a sleeping Itadori. I float to his side, allowing a finger to graze his hand.

“I wonder,” I breathe. “When he’s asleep, are you asleep, too?”

Nothing.

I skim a hand down his smooth cheek, imagining what this boy looks like with Sukuna’s tattoos. My breath hitches at the thought. “No access to his body when he’s asleep? Not at all?”

I sigh, pricking my finger. No reaction. I slide the blood under his nose, and then across his face, painting Sukuna’s tattoos. I repeat the action for his hand, painting the twin rings around his wrist — and then a third.

The triplet rings cause memories to flood through me, and I stifle a gasp.

I took the ink brush out of his hand, laughing softly at his frown. “It’s my turn.”

He opened his mouth to protest, but I shook my head, silencing him with a soft kiss. He breathed cursed energy into it, either intentionally or accidentally granting me more power.

“Careful,” I whispered, pulling my mouth away and taking his wrist. “If you give me more power, Athalia may struggle.”

He fell silent, allowing me to ink a third ring around his forearm. After a long pause and only half of the ring complete, he spoke. “You deserve all of my power.”

My eyelids fluttered, but I gazed up at him nonetheless. “Sukuna, I-“

“So formal,” he interrupted, giving a cocky grin.

“My love,” I fixed the name, reaching up to trace his tattoos with an index finger. “I am half mortal. I’m sitting in my human form. Your power would destroy me — and give me less control over Athalia. And boost her ego.”

He snorted, nipping my finger when it reached his lips. “I have already given you most of what power you have. What’s a little more?”

“It could strain you, too,” I murmured, lowering my hand to resume painting the ink band.

“Nonsense. I see your soul. You could handle it. I can feel that.”

I loosed a breath, raising his hand to allow access to the soft bottom of his wrist. I painted over thick veins and muscle. “I don’t want your power. Besides, you’re here anyway: you can just watch my back.”

“They’ll kill me. Soon.”

My breath hitched in my throat. My eyes flitted up to his, catching a rare moment of vulnerability glimmering in his eyes. “What do you speak of?”

“The humans. Sorcerers. They are gathering. I can sense it, I feel their planning. This may be this body’s downfall.”

I stared down at his hand in mine, swallowing becoming difficult as saliva flooded my mouth, stomach churning.

“You said this body.”

“Yes. I’ve learned how to push my soul into each of my fingers. When I die, they will be severed and they will be indestructible special-grade objects. Eating them will grant great power to curses, which will keep my soul shards effectively passing between holders, and give me the best chance at one day gaining a vessel.”

“…You don’t mean…”

He took my chin between his index finger and thumb, tipping my head up to meet his gaze. “Take three of my hands, my princess.”

I gawked, my resolve faltering at the thought of all that power—

“No,” I sputtered. “No. That’s a dangerous power, not one that I am comfortable with Athalia having access to just yet.”

A mouth formed at the base of my neck, revealed by the deep V in my silk robe. It grinned, and then spoke. “Then take two hands. You don’t have to use the power for killing like he does. It could bring good.”

Sukuna tsked, placing his hand over Athalia’s opened hole. “Let her decide,” he murmured, then flicked his eyes up to me. “She has a point.”

I scowled, finishing the ink band and standing. “I’m done here. Athalia, close it.”

She didn’t, and I felt a tugging at my skin as the mouth frowned prettily. “Two hands. That’s not terrible.”

“I’ll make a pact with you,” Sukuna said, halting me in my tracks with a tugging on my energy.

“I’m not going to eat any corpse fingers—“

“I’ll stop bothering you with the queen of curses question.”

My heart fluttered. He had repeatedly and consistently asked for my hand in marriage, and for me to sit by his side as his all-powerful queen. Not consort, nor princess, his queen.

But I had denied him that, rejected him, crushed his one wish each time he uttered the words. And each time I felt my heart tear a little, pain coursing through my veins.

I loved him, I really did. But what he was asking… We would have to be a unified front. I would have to kill innocents.

It would tear me apart, and he knew that.

“I’ll never ask you to be my queen again,” he continues, gazing up at me with blank eyes. “You may point out any amount of humans, curses, or other beings or objects, as many times as you’d like, and I will not harm them. In exchange, you allow me to grant you as much power as I physically can while this body breathes, and you take ten fingers upon my death.”

I turned on my heel to face him, not wasting a moment, for fear that he may withdraw the pact. “Three fingers.”

“Seven.”

“Four,” I hissed, “and you’re pushing it.”

“A hand. And you can use all four of these arms for your personal pleasure while I still breathe.”

I snorted a laugh, then approached him once more and held out my hand. “It’s a pact.”

I snap out of my dreamy memory haze, blinking at the sleeping boy under me.

I shake my head, huffing in frustration at my own foolish mind for getting so distracted. I review my work quickly. My blood tattoos will make sure that Sukuna knows I’m asking for him, and the third ring will tip him off it’s me.

Still, for security measures to make sure that it isn’t Itadori who follows me, I conceal my path. I rub my bloodied shoulder over a wall, applying a thick layer of red. Then, I use my pricked finger to draw an arrow through it — facing the window. My blood blends with the curses’, and you can’t see the arrow with human sight. Only Sukuna will be able to tell the difference in the energy.

I slide open the window using energy rather than my bloodied hands, and float out. I gesture for the dog to follow me, and he happily obliged, leaping out onto the grass. I shut the window behind us, and float into the woods. I occasionally leave a drop of my blood on the back of a tree or under a leaf, just so Sukuna can be effectively guided to the clearing I’m headed towards.

When I break through the forest and enter a flower field, I can’t help but sigh. The moonlight strikes my face, illuminating my bloodied clothing. Deciding to fix that, I change into a sweatshirt and leggings with a snap of my fingers, and then crouch down to the hound by my side.

“Okay buddy. Go wake Itadori up, then run back here without letting him see you. When you’re back, hide in a bush. Capishe?”

The dog pants a yes, and then sprints into the foliage.

I sigh heavily, climbing a nearby tree. I crouch on a branch, and then allow my curse features to melt away, leaving me in my natural human body.

I peer down and poke my thigh, frowning.

I need to work out in this form more often.

A bush rustles, and I take that as Divine Dog’s arrival. I train my focus entirely on the clearing, allowing my energy to slip out and look around. It snags on a moving form headed this way, and I pick up on two voices.

“I’m so tired. I just wanna go back to bed, grumpy curse,” the first grumbles. It’s the voice from earlier — Itadori.

“This is important,” my heart flutters at the sound of his voice. Sukuna. “It would be a whole lot easier if you’d let me take over, brat.”

“And have you go on a rampage? No way,” Itadori scoffs, growing nearer with each word. “You’re lucky that I’m even indulging you this much. If I had it my way, I’d have showered and just told Gojo about the weird blood shit in the morning.”

“Well you could sleep in this body while I take over. Those ‘weird blood tattoos’ you’re on about were her way of saying she’s asking for me.”

“She!?” Itadori halts his steps, and my energy picks up on him holding his hand out — presumably where Sukuna is talking from. “Do you have a sneaky link that we’re out here to meet?”

I stifle a laugh, pressing the back of my hand to my lips.

Sukuna definitely picked up on that, because he urges Itadori forward. “Move. Quickly. You gotta trust me for a moment, damn it. This is very important.”

Itadori grumbles, but moves forward anyway, trudging along the path I set with my blood.

I release my energy once they’re close enough for me to hear them on my own. I chew my tongue, wringing my hands — human nervous habits that I never quite dropped.

“If nobody is out here and I missed beauty sleep for nothing, then I’ll exorcize you even if it means I have to slit my own throat.”

“Trust me, she’s here.”

The forest falls deadly silent as they step into the clearing. A few trees back, I wait for one of them to spot my form.

An eye on Itadori’s cheek locks on to me. “Hello, kitty,” he purrs, and the mouth below it spreads into a wicked grin.

I laugh, slinking from tree to tree until I’m easily visible on the edge of the clearing. “If you knew I was the cat, why’d you let Itadori leave?”

“You were the cat? Man, I knew something was weird about that encounter!” Itadori yells, pointing up at me.

Sukuna ignores him. “I didn’t entirely know. I suspected. And Gojo was there.”

There’s a pause, with just his eye burning into me. This time, it’s not predatory. I don’t feel an urge to slink away.

This time, I’m the one in power.

“Itadori,” I say, summoning my certified curse paperwork, plus my academy ID and my registration badges as both a special-grade curse and a special-grade sorcerer. I toss them all at him. “I’m a friend of Gojo’s, and of the academy. Let him take over, and turn a blind eye to our conversation. This is official high-ranking Jujutsu High business.”

He reads over the papers, eyebrows shooting up. He tosses everything back to me, and I let the items vanish back to where they belong. “Yeah, okay… maybe Gojo should be here for this.”

“Gojo knows this is happening,” I lie. “This is fully sanctioned.”

Itadori sighs heavily, and allows his eyes to slip shut. When they open once more, Sukuna’s tattoos have formed under my blood markings.

“Come down, princess,” he grins, holding out his arms.

“I don’t think so.”

“Oh, it’s been all these years, and you don’t want to jump into my arms?”

“How are you going to play this?” I ask, leaning against the tree trunk. “Are you going to try to fight me? Try to run?”

“Not at all,” he purrs, and in a blink, he’s gone. I scowl as he appears at my side on the branch. He brushes a piece of hair out of my face. “I want to see what you’ve done with all that power I gave you, and what you’ve accumulated on your own. What techniques do you have?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“Fine. How many?”

“Nine.”

He laughs, snaking a hand around my waist and tugging me to him. “I’d bet two are mine. Dismantle and Cleave.”

I shake my head, reaching up to gently push his face away. “I count them as one.”

He scoffs, grabbing my wrist and pulling my hand away from his face. “You merged my techniques.”

“Not really. Nine just sounds cooler than ten.”

A low chuckle rumbles from his throat, and he takes both of my wrists, pulling them together and then pinning them above my head in one swift movement. His hips press me to the tree trunk, and I raise a brow.

“You’ve changed.”

“How so?”

“You and Athalia are one now,” his voice drops to a murmur as he places a hand against my chest — the hand with the third ring. “You’ve merged. You have full access to all of her abilities.”

“Athalia was made of my own emotion. I just had to be older, smarter, and wiser for her to allow me access to her arsenal of abilities. After that, she went silent.”

“Her soul is still there,” he brushes a kiss to the fabric over my heart. “Right next to yours. She maintains your curse abilities. Incredible.”

A short silence. He gazes down at me, and then eventually quirks a brow. “Show me your true form.”

I laugh, and plant my foot in his abdomen, pushing him back. “No.” I jump off of the branch, landing smoothly in the center of the meadow. “Come here, puppy,” I pat my leg, and Fushiguro’s dog comes to my side. I give it the green scarf, and motion for it to run off.

“What was that for?” Sukuna is by my side again in a flash, cocking his head to the side as the dog runs off.

“In case I needed backup,” I reply, pulling out the matching red fabric and holding it up. “I’ve decided you’re not going to go for my head.”

“Don’t speak too soon,” he purrs, taking my hand and twirling me. “Show me your true form. The curse form.”

“No.”

“Why, princess?”

“It would bruise your ego. Seeing as you’re stuck in a fifteen year old’s body now, lacking two arms and most of your muscle,” I drop my voice to a whisper as I pout. “And you’re down a few feet.”

He snarls, and I laugh, slipping my hand out of his grip and walking around to his back. I trail my hand over his waist the whole time, and I don’t miss the way his back tenses under my touch.

“I wonder if you’ve lost a few inches too.”

His dark laugh fills the field, and I can’t help the little smile that crosses my lips. “I’ll show you if you show me.”

I bite, literally, sinking my teeth into his shoulder. He tenses, but only reaches a hand back to stroke my hair. “Pretty little princess, biting your king?”

“I was testing,” I murmur, carefully dislodging my teeth and brushing the wound with my fingertips. His flesh heals under my touch. “If your blood would change to be curse-like when you’re in control. It doesn’t. You stay fully mortal,” I creep a hand around to his abdomen, tracing a circle around his navel. “Just with a shit ton of cursed energy in here.”

“Show me,” he growls, losing patience.

“You always were persistent. I’ll do it in a minute. For now,” I pull my hand away, tracing my steps back until I’m leaning against the tree. “I’m calling in our pact. I have names for you.”

“You made a pact with Sukuna?”

My head drops at the familiar extra voice, and I raise my hands to cover my face, groaning softly.

“Gojo, you are not supposed to be here,” I hiss, sinking into a defeated crouch.

“We totally missed that in your report,” he goes on. “Did you mention it?”

“It doesn’t need mentioning. Listen, could you leave? I’m kind of in the middle of this-”

Sukuna’s laugh booms through the air, and I hesitantly peel my hands away to look up at him. “So you came and invited me out here without telling your precious sorcerer friend? So sneaky, dear {Y/N}.”

I plant my head in my hands once more, groaning at an obnoxious volume. “Gojo, how did you end up here?”

“I found Fushiguro lurking outside of Itadori’s room, and then one of his dogs came with a green scarf. With your scent on it. I tracked your trail, and now I’m here. Seriously though, you have a pact? And what do names do?” He crouches next to me, yanking my hands away again.

“Sukuna, we’re done here,” I glance back to the curse in a human body. “I’ll find you later for the pact, but for now, I name Satoru Gojo, Megumi Fushiguro, Nobara Kugisaki, and Yuji Itadori.”

“What. Does. That. Do?” Gojo grits out, watching me stand and head into the foliage.

“I’ll be back in time to take the second years out on that job,” I say, trudging through the bushes and forming a quick energy portal. “You follow me, and I borrow your technique until dusk. Sukuna, switch out.”

Cursed Technique #5: Borrow and Steal. I can temporarily steal cursed techniques, but it cancels out most of my own, and makes controlling my energy difficult.

I ignore Gojo’s protests and then his pleading hand on my back, stepping through my portal and shutting them all behind me.

I land exactly where I wanted to. The eight-car garage at the base of the mountain. I grin as I survey the eight classy and shiny cars for my choosing.

All mine.

The academy does lots of things to make me happy. The cars is one.

I grab the keys to my favorite, and hop in.

“God’s plan, God’s plan, I hold back, sometimes I won’t, yeah,” Maki sings, hitting the passenger side of the dashboard to the beat.

Panda and Inumaki are quietly munching on the McDonalds I bought everyone on the way. Inumaki taps his foot to the song that Maki picked, and I grin.

“See? I should take you guys on jobs more often. I have nicer rides, I buy food, and you guys get aux.”

“Tuna, salmon,” Inumaki gestures around, a grin on his momentarily uncovered mouth.

“It is a good car,” I reply, tapping the wheel gently. “Ford Mustang, 1969.”

Panda ‘ooooohs’, and I chuckle.

“Whoever lands the finishing blow on the curse we’re headed to can drive it. And picks what I bring in for lunch tomorrow.”

“Okay,” Maki grins, rubbing her chin. “Could I drive the Lambo Aventador?”

“You’re hurting me, that baby’s fresh in the garage,” I sigh, running a hand over my head. “But you can, if you exorcize that curse and pick a restaurant Gojo hates tomorrow.”

Maki laughs, smacking the dashboard. “Are you beefing with Gojo right now?”

“Yes,” I smirk straight back. “And winning. Please get the curse.”

I park outside of a graveyard, and everyone starts to clamber out of the car. I lock it once everyone’s out, and lean against the hood.

“Alrighty, obligatory speech time,” I start, sighing softly as the three groan. “I know, I know, but it’s my job. One, try not to get hurt, and if you’re in over your heads call for me. Two, this curse has kidnapped specifically highschool women, so keep an eye on Maki. Three, should you need to contact me, say my name thrice and I’ll open a mental line. And four,” I gesture to the trio.

“Don’t break the veil at all costs,” Panda and Maki drone back.

“Salmon,” Inumaki confirms, holding up a thumb.

“Alrighty,” I allow my eyes to slip shut and press my fingers together, focusing on the area I want covered. “Emerge from darkness, blacker still. Purify that which is impure.”

A black veil begins to spread over the sky, and I wave them away. “Have fun, and get that curse.”

The trio sprint into the graveyard, and I sigh, patting my car. “Hopefully they won’t need to call me,” I murmur as the veil hits the ground at my feet.

I slink back into the car, leaning back against the seat. I pull out my phone, greeted by twenty-two missed calls and ninety-one texts from: Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️

I roll my eyes, skimming the more recent messages.

Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 10:35 am:

Answer my calls.

Your phone has literally never ever in my lifetime been on silent.

Did you block me?

No orgasms for a WEEK if you blocked me.

Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 10:39 am:

Okay so

I know we do the whole “fuck and just be friends no strings thing”

But

I was kind of hoping that meant that we can’t break up

Is this a FWB break up??

Missed call from Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 10:40 am.

Missed FaceTime from Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 10:41 am.

Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 10:49 am:

girl

honey

darling

whatever you want me to call you

answer me

Missed call from Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 10:50 am

Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 10:55 am:

What is this

People usually don’t ignore me

What is this feeling :(

Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 10:59 am:

is this depression?

Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 11:09 am:

fine. you don’t wanna talk? i’ll stop messaging you.

Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 11:20 am:

So that line usually works for me.

Baby why you doing this to me (ohhhhh, bruno mars in the background)

(sorry)

Over Sukuna? Because I busted your DANGEROUS little meetup woods party???

Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 11:28 am:

he could have killed you.

Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 11:37 am:

Call me.

And don’t steal my technique pls n ty

(7) Missed Calls from Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 11:40 am:

Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 11:58 am:

You do realize that I know what job you’re on, right?

Like I have the address.

Don’t make me come to you.

Sexy Albino 🤞🧜‍♂️ at 12:08 pm:

I’m coming.

I check my phone clock, cursing when I realize it’s 12:13. I speed dial him from my favorites tab, praying that he hasn’t already left.

It only gets through half a ring, before his voice hits my ear. “Why in actual fuckery are you ignoring me?” He whines.

“I was driving,” I grumble, reaching into my glovebox for a chapstick. “With the kids. I couldn’t talk.”

“You guys only left for the mission like an hour ago. I asked the scheduling guy to check. I’ve been trying to reach you since nine. What’s your excuse for then?”

“I was busy then, too,” I murmur, glancing back to the trunk where one would find filled shopping bags from Prada, Coach, and Louie Vuitton.

“I’m not even sure why you’re mad at me,” he whines. “I literally sensed your blood and went to the source, and accidentally bumped into your little forest party.”

I open my mouth to respond, but a knocking on my window distracts me. “One sec, Gojo,” I murmur, pulling the phone away from my ear.

I turn my head to the window, pulling off my Ray Ban sunglasses and rolling it down.

“Uhm, hi,” the boy on the other side starts. He can’t be older than 18, lean and awkward. “I saw your car, and I thought it was really cool… and my friends and I think you’re really pretty, so…” He trails off, glancing from me to the ground.

I give my best friendly smile. “Uh huh. So let me guess, you came over here because you want my number?” I tilt my head forward, allowing hair to fall in front of my face.

“Y-Yeah, actually, that would be really cool,” he stammers, a grin lighting up his face.

I mute the phone as it lights up in protest, and I take out a napkin and a pen. “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

“J-Jack,” he stutters, practically leaning into my car.

I write, in my graceful handwriting, ‘Call me, Jack. -Annie’ followed by a phone number. I hand him the napkin with a wink.

“Have a nice day.”

He takes the napkin and stumbles back, grinning widely. He must not have expected to actually get the number. I give a little wave and roll the window up, then pull my phone back to my ear.

“Sorry. Where were we?”

“Did you actually just give your number to a strange boy?”

“Of course not. I gave him yours. Now, where were we?”

“Why are you mad?”

I sigh softly, running a hand over my hair. “Because I’m a one-thousand year old curse with anger issues.”

He sighs straight back, and his voice grows softer. “Look. I’m sorry. I know you have your own past things and I shouldn’t have intervened.”

“Thank you,” I murmur, tucking my knees up to my chest. “Sorry about being so salty. But it’s a little late, so lunch tomorrow might end up not appealing to you.”

He snorts. “Right. Does this mean you’ll come to my place tonight and pick up where we left off?”

I laugh, but falter as I feel the tug of my name being said three times. “Hold on,” I breathe out, pulling the phone away from my ear and squeezing my eyes shut. I reach out with tendrils of energy, snagging on Maki.

What’s wrong?

We’re in over our heads, she pants out. Panda’s nearly down, Inumaki’s throat is trashed and one of the curses just broke my best weapon.

One of? There’s more than one?

{Y/N}, there’s three special grade curses in here.

I breathe out a string of curses, picking up the phone. “Three special grades. Unregistered. Possibly others. Alert the council.”

I hang up the call without waiting for his response, and leap out of the car, heading for the veil.

I’m going in, I reply.

#jjk #jjk gojo #jjk sukuna #jujutsu sukuna #sukuna ryomen #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna #gojo x reader x sukuna #jujutsu gojo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #fanfiction #fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #writing #cassiefromhell

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hanisdaisys · 1 year

Text

The colours of you- S.JY

Pairing: Sim Jaeyun! X Reader!

Informations: A spin off of Filipino movie " Love is color blind"

Warning: death of character

Summary: When an embarrassing story turns into a sweet melody. You and Jake were just students when it all happened, and that explains why it was destined to end. Years later you face him again to start over again, will it be a good idea? Is this the same old sim jaeyun you remember?

Word count: ~2.7k

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Colours. Everything revolves around colours. The sun is yellow, the grass is green and the sky is blue. From dark red to bright blue, colours consist of our everyday life. But it’s hard to fill in the pages when the outline is the same shade as the pens. Jake swore he tried. But he was colorblind, unable to distinguish between different hues. Even when he tried to fill in the pages with different shades, he would often mistake one colour for another. When he picked up a red pencil and called it green when he didn’t see what everyone else saw. “Hey Jake can you pass me the yellow pen,” his friend asked. Jake didn’t see yellow, he saw different shades of gray.

PRESS ON KEEP READING

The world felt dull to him, almost monochromatic. Gray was the only colour he could see, which made everything look even more depressing. There was still warmth in gray. But it’s saddening. When you open your eyes to a dark room, it looks ten times darker. You can’t see the beauty of colours. But he wasn’t always colour-blind. Both his parents were artists and he loved painting with them. The last Color he had seen was red. When he got so angry at his mom he did notice the truck rushing in their direction. Fortunately, he survived, but his mother didn’t...His karma? Losing sense is colours. His dad had left him early on, and now, he was all alone. He couldn’t tell between the sun and the sky anymore. Everything was just gray. He refused to let anyone know. It was embarrassing enough to be known as an orphan.

When you showed up in his life years ago, you were an embarrassing teen. You moved to a new school, in a foreign country you had never seen. You were just erasing the board as people started laughing. “Look at her pants!”. Great what an amazing day to wear white. Everyone just laughed at you as you locked eyes with Jake. He just stared at your pants and he said “A new shade of red”… What the actual hell? You ran out of the class, tears flowing. He followed shortly behind, offering his jacket to cover the stain. “Hey I’m sorry for what happened back there… I just love painting and that’s the first time I saw this shade of red,” he said rubbing the back of his nape. You looked at him again, noticing his plump lips, blonde hair, and beautiful eyes. He had you captivated. “Oh no worries” you mentioned before walking away.

Well, now you kept seeing him everywhere. Posters of his soccer games, of course, he had to be the main player. Damn him and his sexy face. You’d go to his every match. Staring at him as he ran across the field. And oh, of course, he had to be part of the violin team. Just like a pied piper, charming you with his instruments. But you were just a watcher, you’d never been close to him. Just far admirer. That was until the last year of school. Your school had organized a dance party for couples. Little did you know, Jake was making a painting of you with the prettiest Colors to ask you out. But of course, he hadn’t finished in time. He was late and Jay had already asked you out, you agreed. If you couldn’t get Jake maybe his friend was good enough. The whole night you wished Jake’s hands were holding you instead of Jay's. You didn’t enjoy the night and went home. Crying in the rain, in a bright purple dress.

Jake was stopping by the convenience store when he noticed you crying on the street. Where was Jay? And how dare he let you leave this way. He came up to you and brought you home. The rain wasn’t stopping anytime soon so you invited him into your room. “Sorry, it's messy..” You mentioned, sniffling while picking out some clothes for him. “ These are my brothers.. hopefully they’ll fit,” you said staring into his eyes as you passed him a sweatpants and a white shirt. He nodded while you continued your phrase “I'll go change in the bathroom, you can stay here..” He had already finished changing and you were still in the bathroom. He decided to look around when he spotted a picture of you and your friends back in the US. While grabbing the photo, he accidentally dropped the picture you had beside... It fell to the floor while he looked up the see the huge letters written in red. You walked into the room and screamed. “WHAT HAPPENED OMG” You quickly used your body to cover up the words on the wall... “Jake and Y/N forever together… interesting” he moved you aside as he kept staring at the wall.

“You know I was going to ask you to prom” he stared into your eyes “but that bastard Jay beat me to it” You were shocked. “ I wanted to paint the picture of you in the flower field, but I was missing my carnation pink paint… and by the time I bought it Jay had already asked you.” He told you holding your hands “I like you” you blurted out “Well me too..” he confessed. And that’s when your journey had begun. He’d take you out on picnic dates, showing you the prettiest Colors he had ever seen. He took you to see his mom, of course, he liked painting because of her… their house was full of Colors and painting supplies. You were together for years, an inseparable couple. That was until your family fell into debt, and you had to go back to America to help out your dad with the family business. Lots of tears and sadness were shared. Jake knew he had to put on a smile on his face if it meant he could see you happy. And so he did. You left.

Years later you found yourself back in Korea. You had missed your childhood here, with Jake. Your sister begged you to let go of him and focus on work. After all, he has cut you off and completely ghosted you. Yet his face still showed up when you’d go to sleep. You’d be lying if you said you had gotten over him. But you were ready to start again. To find him. You walked through your old school, looking at the mural he had painted, The trophies he had obtained and the soft gentle music he had created. He was everywhere. You take the bus home, the same one you used to take after school. Arriving at your small cozy house. You stepped into your old room, seeing the red words still engraved into the walls. This didn’t age well. As much as your sister wished you forget his ass, she'd rather see you happy than sad. So she helped you find where he worked.

When you walked into the tattoo shop, you were shocked he didn’t open a painting business. Yet when you saw his tattoos spread across his body, it all added up. The bright Colors engraved into his skin. He looked like art. “Welcome-“ he stopped when his eyes met yours. “Jake…” you said walking up to him. “I need to leave..” he said packing his essentials and leaving the room. You followed shortly behind getting into the taxi with him. The taxi driver was confused on you had randomly entered the taxi. yet he just shrugged it off and started driving to jakes destination. “you can't be here, and I’m going to tattoo a client!” He said. “It’s okay, I won't say a word” he rolled his eyes at you. The ride to the hotel was quiet. You stayed in the room as the client walked in. “Good evening ma'am! My name is Jake and I’ll be tattooing you” he said giving instructions to the woman for her to sit down. While he started working you two were arguing over the fact that he had left you hanging while you waited for him to call back.

“oh come on Jake! you could've left me a message! yet im here following you like a crazy lady on my first night back” you argued. His eyes were glued to the lady's skin, tattooing a beautiful tiger lily. “I'm sorry to interrupt your lover's quarrel but could you fill in the tattoo with some orange?” the lady asked. Jake looked around in his colours…. Putting your anger aside, you noticed he was confused. he couldn't tell them apart. They were all different shades of gray. “Ma'am your butt looks gorgeous without colour! Don't add anything to it” you said looking at her. “Really? okay ill keep it simple” she said going back to her phone. Jake finally let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

When the client had left the room was quiet. “thank you..” he said. “what?” “I said thank you..” He repeated. You nodded sitting on the bed beside him. “when you left Korea, I stayed to look over my mom... We got into an argument one day-“ he said. “you don't need to continue Jake, take your time. You said rubbing his back “No I need to tell someone. I was driving when she started crying. She said I reminded her of my dad. I got mad, my dad left us. He was a horrible man. We started arguing. I hadn't noticed the truck speeding our way and we got hit… I survived and lost all sense of colours,y/n, my world is black and white... But my mom, she fought, she tried but she didn't make it..” he was smiling but you noticed the tears falling down his face. “Oh, Jake… im so sorry. I couldn't help being mad at you but it all makes sense. You lost both the things you loved in one day… It must've been hard. I'm sorry Jake” You said hugging him. “no y/n it's not your fault at all” You smiled at him while he packed up his bags.

“So where do you live now?” You asked following him. “I live a few minutes from here if you don’t mind coming with me,” he said putting his bag onto his back.

You nodded and followed him through the narrow alley. The wind was blowing softly and you noticed how much he had grown. His height, his hair, his body… he was completely different. When you arrived you noticed the building looked quite expensive. “Jake…” you said. “It’s not much but you know I try my best,” he said saying hello to the bodyguard and swiping his card. When you got into his apartment, it felt cozy. “Sorry if it’s messy!” He said picking up a few cans of beer that were on his coffee table. “Hey, Jake can I know where the bathroom is? I just need to go real quick” you said looking around. “Yeah it’s right down the hallway, second door to your left” You nodded again and walked as the lights opened. Something caught your attention on the walls. Pictures. Pictures of his mom, pictures of his art and mostly pictures of your first date. You slowly passed your hand over it. “It was beautiful wasn’t it” You jumped a little looking back at him. “Yeah, it was nice, Jake.” You said smiling

“Didn’t you need to use the bathroom?” He said clearing his throat “Oh? yeah!” You rushed off entering the small room. What will you tell him???? Without knowing it, you spent a few minutes in their pacing around. Suddenly you heard a small knock “Hey you okay in there?” He asked. “Yeah give me a second I’ll be right out!” You pretended to flush the toilet, washed your hands and exited the room.

“So how were the states,” Jake asked. “It was good, there weren’t many companies interested in what I wanted to give… I came back here because I didn’t want dads business to fail.” You said, playing with your hands. “Hey it’s okay, don’t worry, you know even I wasn’t able to succeed….” Jake mentioned looking down at his legs. “My dads paying for this room here, I just need to work and give him back some money once in a while… even if he left us, he still takes care of me from away… he got a call the other day asking to finish my mom's paintings…. I wanted to decline because I can’t see Colors but they’re offering so much money Y/N and I don’t think I can reject that…” Jake added. You nodded listening to him. “I can help you, you know? You’re the reason my childhood was so good Jake. When I went to America I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You never left my mind, and now I don’t want to make the same mistake. I’ll stay and help you” you told him caressing his hands. He gave you a genuine smile while you talked the night away.

For the next few months, you tried helping Jake regain confidence in his work. You’d bring him outside on trips to make him realize that maybe colours do look different. Even if he could only see gray, he was able to start noticing the difference between colours and complete them. His Sun turned yellow, his sky turned blue and his flowers turned a beautiful array of colours. He was so happy that you had accompanied him throughout this journey, taking him back to the world of colours. He was so great full for you and you were happy to just help him out.

When it came to D-Day, helping him out to complete his mom's work, you stayed by his side the whole time. Letting him know what colours he was using and letting him know if it made sense. He added new meanings to the paintings that not even his mom noticed. He tried to honour every little stroke to his dear mom. Once the painting was completed he was in awe. He couldn’t believe that after years of setting this aside, he was able to finally complete it. You were so proud of him for doing this. When the photographers arrived at the exhibition, everyone praised him for his work. He was able to complete a whole painting without even being able to see colours… While you were admiring the work, Jake came running to you.

“Hey, I have something for you!” He said. He takes your hand and began pulling you outside. “Close your eyes!!” He sounded too excited so you trusted him and closed your eyes. “Open them!” He said. When you opened your eyes you saw the most beautiful thing. There were a bunch of paintings and pictures of you guys together. You began walking down the alley of pictures, admiring each and every photo. “It’s beautiful Jake… I don’t know what to say..” you said. Jake just smiled and followed you while you walked. At the end of the walkway, you started noticing a few rose petals and candles lit. A beautiful picnic was set up for you two. “Jake thank you so much… I’m not sure how to react. This is the most beautiful thing ever” you said tears falling out of your eyes. Jake wiped them as he began talking “Look, my love, thank you so much for being here the past few months. My mom's project, you were the reason I was able to complete it. You were the reason I continued working every day to see progress. Ever since we were kids, you were always my reason why. And even if I left you alone for weeks and months, you still came back to me to treat me the same. I’m not sure what I would’ve done without you. I love you, Y/N… thank you this is all because of you..” he looked at you again “Can I?” He asked as you nodded. His lips touched yours as you smiled.. whispering against each other's lips soft words of love … “I love you more than I loved colours”.

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spadesolace · 4 months

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big 4 univ but newjeans editionnnnn

lasallian engineering student minji na nakikipagcompete sa botb every year - typical famous sa campus and has a lot of admirers (maraming nagcoconfess sa anonymous page 😭😭😭😭) (very malinis tignan, has cool school fits) may car ‘to for sure (something honda civic)

thomasian literature (ab) / tourism (cthm) student hanni na nasa honors lagi and kasali sa singing competitions every event - maraming admirers and maraming natatanggal na letters and gifts kapag valentine’s day (amoy baby, literal talaga kaya maraming nagccling sa kanya 😭😭) (kasali sa mga kind and conyo girlies - nagala after class always and everyday) (joyride girlie since malapit lang naman condo niya sa campus)

atenean culinary student na kasali sa student council danielle - laging nanonominate sa school pageants and lagi ring nananalo 😵‍💫😵‍💫 (chika and acads yung priority) (girl’s girl 😭😭😭 feel ko siya yung nagaapproach sa girl kapag natagusan or ganyan then bibigyan niya ng unused napkin niya na available) (lagi kang issave sa kahihiyan 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻) (fave student ng professors niya) (maraming naffriendzone 😬😬😬😬, friendly kasi sa lahat)

thomasian fine arts student (cfad) / nursing (or something related sa med) and ust salinggawi dancer haerin - famous pero lowkey and private person na minsan lang makita sa campus kasi busy sa acads pero kapag lumalabas na, maraming nagggreet sa kanya sa hallways (friendly and smiley naman once na makaencounter mo sha - maganda ngiti neto masyado kaya maraming nahuhulog), amoy baby daw (proven and tested - out of league ng nakakaramihan, happy crush ng lahat) BASTA MARAMING ADMIRERS 😤😤 (may car din, color gray or white - siguro mazda cx-50 na gift sa kanya ng dad niya) (maraming nagpapapic after ng shift niya??????) (fresh pa din kahit med student)

thomasian shs humss student hyein na sumasali sa mga debate competitions - future attorney hyein me thinks (typa girl na aakalain mo na masungit pero maingay and approachable pala) (maganda na, nageexcel pa sa acads fr) (laging hinahatid ng daddy niya pagpasok 😭😭😭😭😭) (suited din sha sa feu actually, kaso big 4 edi ust nalang 👍🏻👍🏻👍🏻) (may kalog moments 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫) (may tiktok acc para sa vlogs niya for her ust journey - short vlogs sa tiktok na puro vids lang na kumakain at gumagastos siya)

halata ba na haerin biased ako……. bye

- 🩵

3/5 thomasian… girl, why?

engineering major lasallian! minji with atenean! reader, for sure this girl is both brains and beauty but downside girlie has no time for you bc HELLO ENGINEERING MAJOR???? famous on and off campus, always ALWAYS being posted on the freedom wall

shoutout to my crush minji, looks like a red flag but i’m colorblind so idc

but then again, who said atenean! reader isn’t famous as well

thomasian! hanni… i still see her as an architecture major. she sorta screams red flag behavior. for this ask, tourism major thomasian! hanni. SUPER FRIENDLY! this girl is an introvert but her major requires her to be an extrovert. paired this with lasallian! journalism major reader and that’s a pair that is required to be extroverts in their own world. well known at campus - like she probably has been picked to model the uniforms.

CULINARY MAJOR ATENEAN! DANIELLE!!! i have nothing else to say but she’s the greenest or green flags - problem is you’re the delinquent in the relationship. will cook her way to your heart but will also find a way to understand you to the point that everything can be communicated… its for sure a thomasian! reader

HAERIN 🫵 tbh i don’t see haerin as a thomasian, sorry anon but similar sense with minji, this girl is just too busy to have a relationship at the moment. CAREER DRIVEN BUT HELLO, EVERYONE LIKES HER AND IS GETTING SHOUTOUTS IN ALMOST EVERY MAJOR EVENT! fresh after duty at ust hospital like she is very meticulous with everything - probably the only green flag in the thomasian! idols… i feel like thomasian! reader would be a good pairing for this

pre med major! haerin… but lasallian biomed major haerin!!!!! who you met at campus during arw as an officer of your org and getting her to sign up (even getting her socials in the process). yes, she’s busy af but so are you and tbh your majors aren’t that far and you see each other at the science building 😭

hyein as a humss shs student - about to be a lawyer but also lowkey influencer. IF THIS GIRL IS TIKTOK FAMOUS YK WHERE SHE’S GOING FOR COLLEGE 🫵 hyein and eunchae would be besties for sure. stem! student eunchae and humss! student hyein superior pairing (platonic alright) daddy’s girl or- thomasian! hanni’s girlfriend would be willing to drive hyein to school 🥰

yeah, halata na haerin biased ka anon…

#tei talks a lot #🩵 anon

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jayfortheday · 2 years

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Still My Favorite (Dwayne Hoover)

Pairing: Dwayne Hoover x GN!Reader (romantic or platonic)

Word count: 726

Description: After Dwayne returns from the road trip, he talks to Y/N about what he learned about himself

Tags: angst, emotional hurt/comfort, you can't fly jets if you're colorblind, crying

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You sat on your bed, reading a book, just like you would any saturday afternoon. You were suddenly pulled from the pages at the sound of a knock at your window. You looked up quickly only to see Dwayne standing outside. He waved and pointed at the window lock, signalling for you to let him inside. You smiled and sighed a little before getting up to open the window.

You undid the lock and opened the window, allowing Dwayne to climb inside. After he entered, you closed the window again. You quickly looked him up and down, refamiliarizing yourself with the sight of him.

“How was the trip?” You asked, remembering how Dwayne said he wasn’t looking forward to it. You layed back down on your bed while you waited for Dwayne to pull out his notepad.

“It was fine, I guess,” he responded monotonously. You shot up from your laying position and looked at Dwayne. It had been just over 9 months since you had heard Dwayne’s voice, and now he talked as if he had never stopped.

“Um, Dwayne,” you started, concern in your face and voice. “Is everything OK?” Dwayne looked at you with a bit of resignation before walking over to your bed and laying down on top of you, an action which was not unfamiliar. You lay one hand on his back while the other went beneath your head. He lay his hands under his chin, tapping his index finger on the back of his palm. “I, uh,” Dwayne fumbled over his words, trying to find the right thing to say. “I don’t know. I feel like I’m not, but it’s weird.” You bring your hand up to rest in Dwayne’s hair. He tensed slightly at the touch, but relaxed quickly.

“Just tell me what happened,” you said to him, concern continuing to grow in your mind. Dwayne sighed a little before starting.

“Apperantly, I’m colorblind,” he said matter-of-factly. You looked at him with a little confusion, your eyes asking him to explain further. “You can’t fly jets if you’re colorblind.” That statement hit you hard. You had known Dwayne since that dream of his was just a seed in the back of his mind. You had seen him invest so much energy into this for it now to be snatched away by simple luck-of-the-draw.

“Dwayne, I…I’m so sorry. I don’t know what to say,” you tried to think of something to comfort him, but you were coming up empty.

“You don’t have to say anything. I think I just need time to think about it.” Dwayne’s words were quiet, like he was restraining any indication of emotion in his voice, but you were well trained on picking up on Dwayne’s subtle emotional queues. It wasn’t difficult for you to hear the tears in his voice beginning to form.

“Take all the time you want, D. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling right now,” you sighed. You started absent-mindedly stroking his hair, something you often did when you two assumed this position. This seemed to trigger something in Dwayne. You could feel the wetness of tears on your shirt and the quiet sobs that emerged from the boy. He grabbed a hold of your shirt and curled up into himself.

“I gotcha, kid,” you did your best to assure him. You held onto Dwayne, continuing to stroke his hair, letting him ride out his emotions in this moment. After about 15 minutes, Dwayne’s cries slowed to more of a dull sniffle. He picked up his head to look at your face. His eyes were red and a bit of snot ran down his face.

“You said that once I became a pilot, that I’d be your favorite,” he sniffled. “Can’t exactly be your favorite if I can’t be a pilot.” You could tell he was trying to lighten the mood. You smiled a little bit.

“It was never about being a pilot, stupid,” you chuckled lightly, ruffling his hair. “It was about you. No matter what you do, you’ll be my favorite. Whether my favorite doctor, my favorite teacher, my favorite Target employee, whatever you want.” This seemed to lift his spirits a bit.

“Promise?” There was hope in his voice, asking if you were really being truthful. You smiled at him sadly.

“Promise. You’ll always be my favorite, Dwayne.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: Dwayne is definitely one of the first Paul Dano characters I remember seeing. They made us watch Little Miss Sunshine in my 10th-grade psych class and I'm so glad they did.

#dwayne hoover #dwayne hoover x reader #little miss sunshine #fanfic #fanfiction

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joongwooclub · 2 years

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opened my eyes || P. SH.

genre: soulmate au, colorblind at first until soulmate is found, angst (just a tiny bit~), fluff, third pov, seonghwa x fem!reader, a/n : h/c means hair color, e/c means eye color!

Synopsis : In a world of black and gray, Seonghwa finally found his colors

warnings? none!

✩: reblogs / reblog comments and feedbacks are appreciated!! story under cut!

requested? yes! thank you for the request, hope you like it~

The world was always in black and white, the only time there was color was when two soulmates met each other. Everyone grew up with the stories, find your soulmate and you’ll see all the colors in the world! Well, no one said finding your soulmate would be the hardest, heart aching task to ever exist. Seonghwa went years without a relationship, he had small moments with crushes but nothing more, the thought of finding his love out of millions of people just discouraged him, there was no way he would be able to find them. So all he did was focus on his studying and making memories with his friends.

That’s where he is today, out with his friends Wooyoung and Mingi, those two being the most chaotic two out of his friend group. “Hyung, what do you want to eat?” Mingi asked, sitting down with his ice cream. To Seonghwa, the cup he was holding was a deep gray color, and white colored ice cream, which he was assuming was vanilla from his other friends that saw color. Seonghwa hummed and thought about it, “Hm I don’t know..how about that diner downtown?” He spoke, “the one with the red balcony roof?” Wooyoung commented. Mingi shoved his elbow into Wooyoung’s side causing Wooyoung to groan. Seonghwa bit his lip, “Mingi it’s fine.” “Yeah but I know the colors sometimes bother you-” “Why would it bother me? You and him found each other’s soulmates.” Seonghwa said, giving them a small smile. His two friends smiled sadly at him and went back to their conversation, the low tones due to the environment they were now in.

The group finished their ice cream and walked towards the diner. Downtown wasn’t that far from where they stayed from their dorms, so the walk didn’t take too long, sometimes being filled with awkward silence when no one knew what to talk about. Seonghwa noticed how his two friends were always careful not to mention some colors they were able to see, but he genuinely didn’t mind, his friends were happy and he was content with his life. Was it difficult to see all the dates and snapchats from his friends? Yes, but he told himself that not having a soulmate wasn’t the end of the world. A small ding rang throughout the diner as they opened the door and walked in. “Good afternoon boys” “Hi Ms. Janet, how are you?” Wooyoung smiled while greeting the owner of the diner. “I’m doing good Wooyoung, go ahead and get y’alls seats, I’ll bring out your usual.” The three boys smiled and nodded, walking to a booth in the back, Seonghwa sitting on one side and Mingi and Wooyoung sitting together on the other side. The three talked among themselves waiting for their usual order. A small clatter was heard from the kitchen, a few yelling and screaming were heard, and Seonghwa furrowed his eyebrows, usually the diner never had those incidents, even if they were busy. A girl came out with trays of food and went to each table in a quick manner to the hungry customers.

The girl reached Seonghwa’s table and set down the food, mumbling a small “sorry” for delivering the food late. His two friends gave her a smile and told her not to worry, as he looked up to look at her features, the least he expected was to be hit with a strong punch of air in his chest. His vision flashed and slowly small hues of color appeared, as Seonghwa tried rubbing his eyes, the girl in front of them gripped the table as her knees buckled from the sudden hit Seonghwa felt. As Seonghwa opened his eyes and looked around, he saw his friends look over worried and was speaking, but he couldn’t hear what they were saying. His focus on the fact that he saw his friends in a whole other light, he was able to see color, the red streaks in Mingi’s hair, the blonde hair on Wooyoung, their neutral colored shirts blended well with their tan skin. “Hyung! Are you okay?” Wooyoung screeched, reaching over the table to hold Seonghwa’s shoulders. “I..I..” Seonghwa spoke, but no words came out. Mingi helped the girl up, Seonghwa stared at her. Her now h/c was all over her face, her cheeks burned with blush, as she looked around, her surroundings changed from black and gray to vibrant hues of blue and red and yellows at certain spots of the diner.

Ms. Janet heard the commotion and ran out, “oh my! Is everyone okay?” she exclaimed, patting on Seonghwa and the girls’ back. “M-Ms. Janet..I..I think i need to go on break.” the girl said, before running off to the back without Ms. Janet’s answer. “Y/N!-” Seonghwa wanted to stand up but his friends stopped him, “Seriously hyung, what happened?!” “Listen, I need to talk to her!” “why?” “I'm seeing colors, you idiot!” Those words made his two friends freeze in shock, and Seonghwa took this as an opportunity to get up and leave. Running towards the kitchen door, ignoring the sign of “employee only beyond this point”, he ran in and looked for her. He never realized how big the diners’ kitchen was until now, the colors of silver metals and colored walls made the space look bigger. In the corner of Seonghwa’s eyes, he saw a glimpse of h/c, his feet reacted quickly to get to her.

The moment his hand touched her shoulders, it felt warm, glimpses of Seonghwa and the girl ran through his brain. It was as if they already knew each other, as y/n lifted her head, their eyes made contact and Seonghwa took in a sharp breath. Looking into the eyes of y/n’s e/c, the world seemed to stop. Time slowed, the environment around them didn’t matter, everything he thought was important didn’t matter in this moment, he felt warm, cozy, like he was stuck in a winter storm in a house and y/n made him the warmest cup of hot chocolate with melting marshmallows, allowing him to feel safe. “It’s you..” he whispered. His hands slowly engulfed themselves into hers, “You’re my soulmate..” she says, not believing it. After all these years, her soulmate was in front of her, and he felt so right in her arms, she could finally see color and with him, she saw perfection. From his dark brown hair, to his boba round brown eyes that held the world in them, to his tan sun kissed skin, she was able to admire him. Tears welled up in her eyes, Seonghwa’s eyes did the same and he gave a small smile. “You opened my eyes sweetheart.” he whispered lovingly.

#seonghwa #park seonghwa #seonghwa x reader #ateez fluff #ateez angst #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #anon request #writing request #🐇

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iamafalseprophet · 2 years

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Hi I would love to request just a little drabble or something with Dwayne just being super cuddly and mushy, there's just not enough Dwayne fluff in world. :]

except you, you can stay · dwayne hoover x reader

a/n: my first time writing for dwayne and i love him so much. let me know if you want more chapters added or if you have any criticism. sorry if dwayne’s ooc:(

summary: after being friends with dwayne for a bit (after his family’s roadtrip), the two of you develop crushes on each other. coming over to his house, you decide to confess while hanging out and the two of you cuddle until you fall asleep.

tags/warnings: fluff, cuddly stuff, dwayne crushing hard, gender neutral reader

word count: 1,596

ao3 link

•°. *࿐

Sunny out, you were standing across from a house, looking on from the sidewalk. You hesitantly walked up as you turned your head to check that it was the right house number you’d been given. You looked down at a small piece of paper with an address written, then shoved it into your pocket and pushed the doorbell, hearing a ring that echoed throughout inside.

This was presumed to be the house of your friend, Dwayne. you two had met a few weeks ago, meeting (surprisingly) at a store while your parents both dragged you along for errands. You had complimented him on his shirt, most likely some obscure band, and it went on from there—though, Dwayne wasn’t really much of a talker when you first became friends. He radiated ‘don’t talk to me’ energy, but you couldn’t really help yourself talking to him, as cute as he was. He came around to you eventually, especially after finding out the many similarities between you two.

Snapped back into reality by the sound of a shuffling doorknob, you suddenly straightened up your posture and smiled as a little girl with frizzy hair and glasses answered the door, smiling back at you. “I’m Dwayne’s friend.” You put simply. A confused expression formed on the girls face, she then opened the door quickly and yelled, “Dwayneee!”

In a few moments, the skinny teen appeared out of his room from a hallway, a slight smile upon seeing you (that he tried to hide) as he gestured you to follow him. Your head perked up and you nodded, quickly taking your shoes off and leaving them near the door to be polite; then following him into his room. It was pretty cool—he had lots of plane related things, posters and models and whatnot, and a bunch of CDs you’d probably ask to go through.

“That was your sister Olive, right?” You recalled, observing the various items inside Dwayne’s room before turning to look at him, where he was sitting on his bed. “Yeah,” He nodded, as you then walked over to sit beside him. This is the first time you’d been over to his house, only ever really hanging out in public places like music stores or parks. You may or may not have been trying to reach Dwayne how to skateboard.

“Put on some music, Dwayne. Don’t be so quiet.” You joked, causing him to roll his eyes lightheartedly. “If you think I’m quiet now, you should’ve seen me in the last nine months.” He had briefly explained his vow of silence for the air force academy and him finding out about his colorblindness before, but not a lot else.

He didn’t want to be vulnerable, afraid you would for some reason leave or laugh at him, since you seemed to be his only friend right now—which, he typically didn’t care much about but you proved to be pretty special to him so far.

Dwayne obliged to your request, picking himself up from the bed as he wandered over to his many stacks of CDs and its player, searching for the write one. He picked out one from The Cure, their album Pornography. He knew you’d like that at least, since you’ve both exchanged comments about music artists you both enjoy.

While One Hundred Years started playing, he moved back toward the bed and sat back down next to you. “What do you wanna do?” He asked, not moving to fix his bad posture.

“Talk about ourselves? I dunno. You’re too mysterious sometimes. It makes me want to know more about you.” You answered, falling backwards on to the bed and pulling Dwayne down with you. He stifled a laugh, fixing his gaze on your own as you both laid there, your hands placed neatly on your stomach. “What do you want to know?” He questioned you more.

Dwayne began to become increasingly aware of the space that was between your faces for some reason now, not being able to prevent his cheeks reddening ever so slightly. He didn’t know how to really handle this emotion. His eyes wandered over you as he awaited an answer.

“What would your dream life be?”

You tried to think of a somewhat interesting thing to talk about between the two of you. You bit the inside of your cheek as a sort of habit, eyes tracing over Dwayne’s face as he thought for a moment.

“Being of this house, and being a pilot. But I don’t really know how attainable that is now.”

Maybe that wasn’t the best thing to ask. You almost forgot about the whole situation with him discovering he’s colorblind, but to be fair he didn’t like to really talk about it. Even if it was brought up though, you tried to tell him something could change, encouraging him to keep chasing it.

“Well, it’s your dream, Dwayne. I don’t think that it’s impossible. You’ll find a way, promise.”

You both laid there, facing each other. A smile fell onto your lips and Dwayne nearly hid a smirk that crept up his own. “I will.” He affirmed, your reassurance making him feel a little better at the mention of his colorblindness.

Even as silence fell between the two of you, there was almost a mutual acceptance of it in the glances you shared. You both allowed it to stay, before he began saying something.

“What about you?” “Huh?”

“Your question, your dream life.” He replied to your confusion. Your eyes lit up as you felt stupid for a moment, remembering what you were talking about just before. You thought for a second, and Dwayne secretly loved to see your brows furrowed as you looked up in thought.

“I don’t know really. Probably art school. Something there. Writing, music, painting, acting,” You went on, responding as honestly as you could. You still didn’t know what you wanted specifically, but.. a general idea, mostly.

“That suits you. I’d watch, or listen to, whatever you’d make.”

A small smile was actually there on Dwayne, and you could feel a little flushed just from the sight of it. You then took everything in at once—how close you seemed to be to his face, his little grin, and the topic at hand, your futures. Dwayne made you feel content and happy more than anything, you’d realized. His presence was just comforting, regardless of what you discussed.

He watched you blank for a moment, wondering if what he had said was weird, silently beginning to panic just a little. His worry was put on pause as you pulled him closer to you, wrapping your arm over him and laying your head on his chest.

“I really like you, you know.”

You huffed out, voice wavering slightly. You’d attempted to sound all calm with that line, but you’d be lying to yourself if you tried to say that you weren’t going crazy right now.

What if he was just being nice and you were making everything weird? Poor Dwayne, having to deal with this. Oh God, he just wanted a friend and you had to be so forward. Stupid, stupid—

“I like you too. Really.”

You were now full of both happiness and shock as you just pressed your face into his t-shirt, smiling and blushing wildly against it. Hoping he meant it as much as you did, if that was even possible. You felt Dwayne combing through your hair with his hand, and you just leaned into the feeling, far too embarrassed to look at him in the face right now.

Honestly, your little confession had caught Dwayne by surprise completely. He’s never really felt this way about anybody, not to mention anybody feeling like this for him. He wanted to kick himself for developing a crush, oddly enough. It made him feel. A lot. But, he just couldn’t help but become happier seeing you, the way your lips curved up into a smile or how you laughed or how you looked talking about things you like. His face was resting against your head, free hand rubbing circles onto your arm.

“Thank God. Otherwise this would’ve been really awkward.” You spoke softly after a little, grinning and turning to rest your head on the side so you could actually breathe in more than just the scent of Dwayne’s shirt (though, it’s not that you didn’t like the smell).

He let out a chuckle, closing his eyes in bliss to just sit there a few moments. You lifted your head up a little, pushing yourself up to give him a small peck on the check, seeing his eyes flutter open and cheeks go red.

It was new, but Dwayne found himself liking the cuddly mushy stuff, surprisingly. He’s never given much thought to relationships or dating or all that crap, his focus on training and his vow, in the mindset that it would ‘get in the way’. But, he’s seen that it isn’t everything and that he actually wants you to stay. Here.

“Thanks for being here.”

He spoke genuinely, moving the hand he was tracing your arm with to the side of your face, looking down and tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “Thank you for encouraging me..” His voice trailed off, a slight embarrassment growing over him as he felt your eyes stare into his.

“Of course, you can count on me.” You breathed out, brushing some of his dyed black hair out of his eyes, smiling as you did so. You two laid there for a while, falling into a midday nap.

#paul dano #paul dano x reader #paul dano x you #dwayne hoover x you #dwayne hoover x reader #dwayne hoover #dwayne hoover (little miss sunshine)#little miss sunshine (2006)#!friendstolovers #📂.emfics #dwayne little miss sunshine #fluff!dwaynehoover

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shotorozu · 2 years

Text

ドキドキ (heart fluttering)

character(s) : bakugou katsuki, todoroki shouto, shinsou hitoshi, kaminari denki (bnha)

part two — tokrev ver.

legend : [Y/N = YOUR NAME] gender neutral, quirk’s not specific

headcanon type : fluff, crack-ish🤔(x reader)

note(s) : things you did that caused these characters to blush for the first time 💀 i had a hard time sticking with ideas for this one— either way, i’m sorry for the lack of posts 🧎‍♀️

bakugou katsuki

calling him by his full hero name

as we all know, his hero name has gone through several revisions. the reactions of his classmates and teachers after hearing about “king explosion murder” deemed them unacceptable, unworthy (for the time being) to hear of his official, on the paper hero name.

even then, “great explosion murder god dynamight” still has its mixed reviews— mostly questioning the blond’s naming process. they all sincerely wish he’s not in charge of naming whoever’s kid.

which is why, hearing you say his full hero name and in it’s correct order— mind you, nearly caused him to erupt into shades of red, which could rival his very own irises.

the self control he possesses sometimes

he thinks you’re mocking him at first, naturally. considering that, everyone either stuck to the name’s simplified version, “dynamight” or, they just completely avoided the mention of his hero name all together.

until he sees the sincerity in your eyes— confusion swirling in your irises at the lack of katsuki’s response.

he goes to correct you, until he remembers that the order’s absolutely correct. so then, he asks you to say it again, a hand cupping his ear, so he could hear the way the name rolls off your tongue, as you stare at him with anything but ill intent.

katsuki doesn’t realize he’s blushing, until kirishima innocently points it out, believing his blush was the work of the newly purchased hot sauce.

“was the hot sauce i bought really intense? if so— i’m really glad, y’know! i scavenged the aisles for that specific bottle”

“the hell are you talking about?”

“uh, you’re like.. really red, bro. that’s.. that’s what i mean.”

“… i’m not. you’re just fucking colorblind. are you sure the hair dye isn’t seeping into your brain?”

“…i’m sure that’s not how it works—”

“no.”

katsuki ends up not sleeping on time, and it’s all due to you. he concludes he might need professional, medical attention (no, katsuki. you just have a crush— and that’s perfectly fine 😭)

todoroki shouto

calling him his first name

his family only ever called him by his first name, which is a given. but, ever since he made it his official hero name, more and more people have been calling him by his first name.

is it something that he regrets occasionally? yeah, sometimes. did he choose that as his hero name, because he wanted to be recognized as him, and not the child of endeavor? yeah.

did he also make his hero name “shouto”, so he could erase the less than kind memories that associate with his name? maybe.

despite it all, he finds himself fighting the heat that threatens to spread along his cheeks, when you whisper his first name for the first time— addressing him as shouto in private.

not in a training set up, or in front of other classmates— but in each other’s company alone.

activating his right side, to regulate his temperature, he tilts his head to the side— prompting you to speak further.

“you weren’t responding, and i also never said your first name before so.. yeah. wanted to test that out.”

shouto holds down an uncharacteristic stammer. with shaky hands, he slowly (maybe even cautiously), approaches you.

“was that out of line—”

“no.” he starts, “it was quite— nice. yes, nice.” he nods with vigor. he likes the way you say his name, is what he wants to say. but, the words don’t come out as well.

“my first name. it’s free for you to use as you like.”

“oh— thanks, shouto!”

even when he says that, there’s undeniably some redness sprinkled across his cheeks. unsure of what just happened to him— he quickly turns around, hoping you don’t question the uncharacteristic action.

he only notices that he’s blushing, when midoriya takes one look at him, and offers him aloe vera gel

“aloe vera gel?”

“it’s for your..” midoriya gestures to the entirety of his face, “i don’t know what it is, but it looks like a rash?”

“why? what does my face look like?”

“really red, todoroki-kun.”

it dawns onto him on what it actually is, “oh.” not knowing how to reply to that, he accepts the gel.

it occurs to shouto, that there’s something he needs to figure out. whatever it is, it is causing him chest issues. he also believes that it’s detrimental to his ever so perfected temperature control. in reality, this was all because of his feelings towards you, but he’ll figure it out soon enough

shinsou hitoshi

oddly specific

for as long as he could remember, hitoshi has gotten used to paying attention to people, and their voices— because he needed to, if he wanted to pursue being a hero.

gradually, he just knew when to expect something, just by reading the conversation’s pattern, or maybe even their body language.

he thinks that people can be so predictable sometimes. so, when something else happens— it throws him off the loop.

like now, when you complimented him on his bone structure. something so oddly specific, and something he’s never been complimented on before.

to the point that heat flared up on his face— or a blush, he doesn’t know. either way, he just hopes it’s not obvious.

hitoshi knows a part of him would’ve been pretty amused at this compliment— then again, he’s never received such compliment before.

“bone structure, huh?” he questions, hand flying up to his nape, something he does as a fidget, or— when he finds himself shy.

the insomniac teen sincerely hopes this action does something to control whatever blush, or heat that’s about to emit off his face to no end.

“yeah. you have good bone structure. has no one told you that?”

“no, not really. but uh.. thank you?”

you smile, patting his back, “don’t sweat it.”

oh but, he will.

hitoshi only realizes he’s blushing, when aizawa points it out first (he wonders, why it had to be his mentor out of all the people.)

“shinsou, you good?”

“yes, sir. why?”

“you look like you’re burning up.”

“i am? ..huh.”

“don’t “huh” me, i don’t want you to be unwell during training. it won’t benefit you, and it’ll only worsen your condition.”

“uh.. i don’t think..”

“—unless, i’m misreading this all, and it’s not what it appears.”

“…yeah.”

hitoshi wonders if he was blushing because he was given an unexpected, and oddly specific compliment. or— if it’s because you were giving him the praise. but knowing himself, it’s probably because of you. (he’s screwed, he thinks to himself)

kaminari denki

when you flirt back

kaminari denki can flirt, but he doesn’t actually expect any form of reciprocation.

he knows when to back off and all— he’s not a creep. regardless of the fact, whenever he does flirt with someone, they either shyly shrug it off, or they ignore it all together 💀

then there are those rare occasions, where he gets told off, but hey— at least he tried, and at least they were honest.

denki thought you were just being nice, when you only smiled at his borderline cheesy attempts at throwing flirtatious punchlines.

which is why he doesn’t know what to say, when you actually flirt back with him. it was totally unexpected on his end— especially since you’ve never mirrored him in like, ever.

“i think if we were a couple, you’d be the pretty one,” he says in an flirtatious attempt, and he opens his mouth to move onto the next topic, when you reply back with

“hm, i don’t know— you’re pretty good looking yourself. we’d really be one pretty couple.”

denki stares at you dumified, and the lack of words only cause the smile that was already on your lips to spread even wider.

what time is it? where is he? is the room spinning? is the world spinning? he knew, but it seems to be that he forgot about all concepts of time and location.

he believes he short circuited— the way his agape mouth closes and opens like a fish, and the way he stares at you dumbfounded is just enough to wrap a conclusion around his head

but he doesn’t see sparks of electricity, or an expression of worry on your face— which is something he catches a glimpse of, whenever he short circuits due his quirk

so maybe, it’s something else entirely.

denki only realizes that he’s blushing, when bakugou lands a slap on his back, straightening his posture.

“ow, bakugou! what was that for?”

“your expression, ��s fucking haunting. the hell happened to you? got struck by lighting on the way or something?”

“huh??”

“your face, dimwit. look at your face— it’s red as shit!”

“what— oh. oh.”

“what?”

“i just realized something. i think i’m screwed.”

“sounds like a personal problem.”

in reality, it really was. in a span of few hours and a hamburger, denki came to realize this unlabelled fascination, is him actually developing a crush on you— the subject of his daily banter.

likes and reblogs are appreciated, thanks for reading!

i do not own bnha/mha and it’s characters. boku no hero academia/my hero academia belongs to horikoshi kohei, i only own the writing and i do not profit off of my hobby

do not plagiarize, reupload, translate, or use my works for audio readings without permission :))

TAGLIST (bold couldn’t be tagged 😔 lmk if you’ve changed your url ‼️) :

@baku6o @angelicsano @anactualfuckingnerd @kitsuji @tamewkii @astridismissing @sweethcnvy @why-couldnt-it-be @kioyoki @t0ra-kazu @givingeraserhead @uxavity @snowymaltese @escapenightmare @taurus852 @han-the-fanboy @crack-squirrels @keisukeist @vdoesthings @gravity-gacha @blxck-hxney @electricpainterwobblergoop @nopenotallie @mhasimp666 @shelteredheart @lovingshoto @lxislxis @luluwiie @avengs @princ3rae @solaxena

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writing-fanics · 2 years

Text

Paul Dano (Characters Fic Ideas) Request Open

(Dwayne Hoover: Little Miss Sunshine)

. Vow of Silence.

.summary: Dwayne meets y/n, someone else taking a vow of silence until they get into art school.

. Creep .

. summary: while reading in alone in the hallway at school, Dwayne hears someone singing in the music room.

. Comfort .

.summary: when Dwayne found out he’s colorblind. Y/n immediately comforts him crying alongside him.

.Moving Out.

(aged up to around 18 nothing happens)

.summary: after a huge argument with her mother, y/n’s ready to move out and live on her own. And she asks Dwayne to move in with her after, dating for around 2 years.

Jay (Okja) Warning: mentions of animal cruelty

.the cruelty of the world.

.summary: y/n is sick to the stomach to the point of throwing up, after seeing the atrocities and torture. Okja is put through.

.right now you’re my priority.

.summary: when Jay gets injured they don’t leave his side.

.Puppy.

.summary: y/n surprises Jay with a puppy

<?> Edward Nashton

. why? .

.summary: all y/n can ask is why her husband why he did all this, leaving her to raise their child

. I’m sorry .

.summary: after finding out his s/o’s parents where corrupt edward makes the hardest decision of his life

. Choice . (Not really x reader)

.summary: Bruce Wayne has to make a choice save his pregnant wife, or let thousands of people die in Gotham City.

#little miss sunshine #Paul dano x reader #Paul dano x reader imagines #Dwayne Hoover imagines #Jay Okja #Okja fanfic #Jay x reader #Paul dano #Edward Nashton #the riddler x reader #dano!riddler x reader

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barnesmurdock · 3 years

Text

You go to my head.

Pairing: Pre-serum!Steve x tall!fem!reader

Summary: Bucky can't stop flirting with Becca's best friend's sister but, turns out she has her mind set on someone else.

Word count: 3890

Warnings: Fluff, insecure Steve, mentions of Steve being colorblind and not hearing well, flirty Bucky but he's actually a good bro, alcohol consumption.

A/N: The title references a Billie Holiday song that I think fits with this fic, if you wanna give it a listen. Sorry if this is too self indulgent, I'm just a tall girl in love with Steve Rogers 🥴

Please consider reblogging and leaving a comment if you enjoyed it <3

Masterlist

“Whaddya think, green or blue?” Bucky asked a bored Steve, showing him two ties. He was dragging his best friend to a dancehall again and this time they didn’t even have dates.

“Buck ya know I’m colorblind, right? I’m no help with that." Steve sighed, resting his elbow on the dining table to rest his head on his hand.

"Right, sorry…" The brunette sheepishly scratched the back of his neck. "I'll go ask ma."

"Ma will say the blue one, she always picks that one, James." Rebecca commented as she passed by the two boys, carrying some games in her hands.

"Well, then. Which one would ya choose, Bex?" Bucky raised his voice so it would reach his little sister.

"I don't care!"

"Y'know, if you can't decide, we could just stay here." Steve suggested, well aware Bucky wasn't going to agree to that, but hopeful nonetheless. He wasn't in the mood for another night of nursing a coke while Bucky flirted with someone.

The doorbell interrupted their conversation and, before Bucky could reply, his mom's voice asked him from the kitchen to open the door.

"Well, if it isn't the most beautiful dame in New York…" Bucky flashed a smile at the eldest of the two girls in front of him." … And you're here too. Becca's in her room." He informed your sister.

"Hi, Bucky." You responded to the brunette with a polite smile, unphased by his comment. "I just came to drop this bug, Becca invited her for a sleepover."

"In that case, please come in." He moved to the side to let you in, your sister simply passing by him, then Steve, who she waved politely before running off to her friend's room.

"She didn't even say goodbye." You huffed and rolled your eyes, making Bucky chuckle.

"Hey, you can come in too." He gestured with his hand. He knew you were about to decline, so he rushed to say, "I need someone with taste to help me pick a tie. No one in this house is being helpful."

You sighed and made a face, but you ultimately agreed and came in, your breath hitching after finding Bucky's best friend sitting right in front of you.

You'd always found Steve Rogers handsome, with his big bright blue eyes and his beautiful lips, his permanently rosy cheeks. Ugh, you couldn't help but steal every glance you could at him every time you encountered Bucky with him attached to the hip.

Steve rushed to sit straight when he saw you coming in, nervously flattening his tie. Bucky was right, you were the most beautiful dame in New York. If you asked Steve, you probably were the most beautiful dame in the whole damn country. The two of you never actually had a conversation, most of your interactions were with Bucky, since your sisters were best friends. He relentlessly tried to flirt with you and you dismissed him every time, which was certainly amusing for Steve to watch. Refreshing, almost.

"Hi, Steve!" You offered him a genuine smile, approaching the table where he was seated to inspect the ties.

"H-hi." He managed to reply looking up to your face, brushing his hair out of his face.

"Couldn't you help him with the ties?" You eyed the blushing blonde sitting to your left.

"I'm colorblind, so… nope." He sighed self deprecatingly, giving you an awkward tight lipped smile.

"Oh, that's fine." You leaned towards him to get closer to his ear. "It's always this one, though." You whispered before stepping back, showing him the blue tie and winking at him before turning to hand it to Bucky.

"Would you be a doll and do the knot for me?" Bucky asked, pouting at you half flirting, half trying to piss you off, which he knew was easier than his flirting working.

You rolled for eyes at him but did the stupid knot, just to shut him up.

"So… where are you two headed?" You asked, looking at Steve and ignoring Bucky's beaming smile. Yes, Bucky was handsome, really handsome. Like, almost painful to watch. But you he just didn't do it for you. You didn't like the arrogance, the overconfidence he had. And you were well aware he didn't want anything actually serious. He was just a flirt. So, you weren't interested.

Instead, his beautiful, shy, respectful friend Steve, with his nervous smile and his ticks. That's what you liked.

"Bucky wants to go dancing." The blonde responded, since you directed your attention to him.

"You could join us, if ya want. I'll buy you a drink if you dance with me." Bucky interfered with a cocky smile. Steve's gaze shifted to Bucky and sighed, making you chuckle.

"You know what? I'll come. But I'll pass on the dance." Your eyes lingered on Steve for a second, who softly smiled at you, before looking back at Bucky, patting his chest once your work was done.

"Oh, c'mon! Just a friendly dance!"

"Let it go, James, it's not gonna work."

Since you had agreed to go out with them, Steve and Bucky walked you home and waited outside while you changed clothes and dolled up.

"Y'know? It's funny to see someone reject you for once." Steve commented with amusement, his hands inside the pockets of his jacket.

Bucky made a bit of a face, but ended up smiling at his friend. "Yeah, she keeps me humble, I guess. But hey, I got her to come to the dancehall, didn't I?" Bucky shrugged, content with you simply agreeing to spend some time with them.

Yes, Bucky tried to butter you up every single time he saw you because you were truly beautiful and he loved your snark and he… Well, he was a flirt. He couldn't help it. But in all honesty, he was just playing and ultimately, he was okay with just befriending you.

"You're unbelievable." Steve huffed, looking at the door as if that would make you come out faster.

Bucky regarded him for a moment before a smirk appeared on his face. "Hey, why don't ya try flirting with her? Perhaps she likes blondes. That's the only explanation for why she doesn't like me." He said pointing at his gelled brown hair.

Steve sighed and shook his head, moving his hair out of his face again. "Stop trying to set me up, Buck. It never works."

You came out of your apartment just as Steve was checking the door again, your eyes locking as you shut the door. The blonde stared at you, his mouth slightly agape. You smiled shyly at him, making him blush when he realized he was just staring like a dumbass.

Bucky turned around when he heard the door, wolf-whistling at the sight of you.

"Okay, okay. Let's not make a big deal out of it, Barnes, let's go." You said as you chuckled, gently pushing Bucky's shoulder to make him move.

He started moving without objection with a chuckle of his own, leaving you and Steve to walk behind him.

You looked down to your side, where you found Steve looking back up at you. His eyes widened when you caught him staring, but he relaxed when you smiled at him, offering you a shy smile in return.

On the way to the dancehall, Bucky ended up convincing you to dance with him. But you demanded some ground rules. No slow songs and no touching more than necessary. Fair enough.

Steve watched you two dance and talk and laugh with resignation. Perhaps you did like Bucky and you were just playing hard to get. Even if you weren't, he didn't stand a chance. Regular women didn't even look his way as it was, but a gal like you, so tall and confident, who didn't even indulge Bucky's advances? Yeah… no chance.

But Steve did not know what you were telling his flirty friend.

"Y'know, you really have to stop flirting with me." You said, your attention still on your steps as you danced with Bucky, not wanting to step on his toes.

"Oh, c'mon! You know it's just a bit of fun." The brunette protested while he guided you.

"I know, I know… I have to admit it, it's amusing sometimes. Flattering. But, I'm already interested in someone else." You let him know,your gaze leaving Bucky's to look past him towards the scrawny, frowning blonde waiting for the both of you on a table, nursing a bottle of coke. He felt you looking, so he glanced up at you and offered one of his small shy smiles. You discreetly smiled back before turning your attention back to Bucky.

"Oh, I see. I'll behave, then. Someone I know?" Bucky asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Nosy." You chuckled as he twirled you around for the last time, since the song was coming to an end.

"You're choosing another man over me, of course I wanna know who that lucky fella is." Bucky sighed dramatically once the song ended, draping his arm around your shoulders. "I think you earned that drink, doll."

"Buy me two and I'll tell ya who it is." You said cheekily, allowing the friendly close contact as he guided you towards the bar.

"Done."

As promised, Bucky bought you two drinks of your choice for the dance and the gossip and then left you alone to go mingle with the ladies. Steve saw you walking towards the table he was sitting on, lazily swirling your drink in it's glass, grinning and glowing after your dance. He gulped and combed his fingers through his hair again, his eyes following your movements as you sat in front of him.

"Hello, handsome." You greeted with a cheeky grin, sipping on your drink. You had already downed the first one with Bucky before making your way to the table and you were definitely feeling it.

Steve's eyebrows flew up at your comment before breaking eye contact, looking down at his coke bottle with a nervous chuckle.

"Hello… So, you finally gave in to Bucky's charm." He commented, twirling the bottle on his fingers.

"Not at all." You laughed. "Just wanted that free drink." You nudged at his foot with yours under the table so he would stop staring down. Once he did, you wiggled your brows and sipped on the cocktail again. "Want some?" You offered your glass and Steve hesitated for a moment, but he remembered he wasn't sick at the moment, so you should be fine.

He nodded with another smile as he carefully took the glass from your cold hand, his fingers inevitably brushing against yours making the corners of your lips tug up.

Holding his gaze to yours, Steve took a sip and smiled after putting the glass down.

"S'good." Steve approved, nodding with a smile.

"Right?" You exclaimed before picking up the glass to drink, leaving it in front of him again, inviting him to continue drinking.

You ended up sharing your whole drink with Steve as you looked around the dancehall and commented on everything worth commenting and shared stories.

It turned out Steve was snarky and funny and amazing and your cheeks ended up hurting from alll the smiling and laughing. You were fairly sure the alcohol helped Steve loosen up a bit with you and you couldn't thank Bucky enough for buying you two drinks instead of one.

You looked around at all the people dancing a fast paced song, just like the one you had been dancing before. You even spotted Bucky having fun with a pretty redhead. Then, you looked back at Steve, who was doing the same thing, and regarded him for a moment.

"Hey, would you like to dance?" You asked, resting your head on your hand on the table.

"I…" Steve sighed before continuing. "I don't know. I don't usually dance." He said instead of the truth that he'd never danced with a girl before, lowering his voice and looking down at his fidgeting hands. He had practiced before, forced by Bucky, before he arranged some double date for them. But it never happened.

"What? Why?" You frowned a bit as you asked with genuine curiosity. You weren't dumb. You knew how people thought about someone like Steve and you'd guess he probably wasn't very lucky with the ladies. Just like you didn't interest many guys due to your height. But still, there must've been someone who had seen in Steve what you saw.

Steve looked at you, opening his mouth as he thought how to respond, but nothing came out of it, making him look away in embarrassment.

"We could wait until they play a slow one to dance. Easier than swing, in my opinion." You shrugged, trying to salvage it. You noticed he didn't want to talk about it. In the end, it didn't really matter. You did want to dance with him.

"Wouldn't want to step on your feet." He side glanced at you with what looked like a sad smile. Hell no.

"Ugh, don't worry about that. I'll definitely step on you too." You rolled your eyes and then chuckled, making him laugh too.

It died down as he thought about it. You seemed genuine in your intentions of dancing with him but he couldn't help but think about what people would think. He was so… scrawny. And you were so tall. Way taller than him. People already gave him weird looks by simply existing and he thought perhaps you experienced that too. But you were absolutely beautiful and he… well. You looked better with someone like Bucky.

"Hey. I don't know what's going on inside that head of yours, but stop it. Don't overthink it." You said as you put your hand on top of his on the table, with that big perfect smile you had been flashing at him all night. He had to look at you again, then what your hand just did. You grazed the pads of your fingers up and down the back of his hand and he felt his heart start beating erratically. "We don't have to dance if you don't want to, just know I'd love to dance with you."

He missed your touch the moment your fingers retreated from his hand. Damn, he was so not ready for this. You were not only a dame who was interested in him, which was already rare, but you were the girl he had been interested in for a long time. And you wanted to dance. With him. A slow one. Suddenly, he had forgotten everything Bucky had taught him. He was afraid he was gonna embarrass you in front of everyone and then, they announced they were gonna play something slow. He had to do something now.

You could see Steve freak out inside his head as he had his eyes fixed on the hand you'd touched and decided to give him his time.

Steve finally came out of his thoughts and looked back up at you. He got up clumsily and brushed his hair out of the way before offering you his hand.

"Yeah?" You said, unable to contain the wide smile growing on your face, reaching for his hand and standing up to go to the dancefloor.

"Yeah."

You were giddy and excited and you were sure anyone could hear your heart pounding in your chest as he gently took your hand and put his other one tentatively on your waist. You looked down to Steve, squeezing his hand for reassurance and placing your free hand on his shoulder.

This close, he had to tilt his head back to look up at you but he decided he didn't care. Not when you were beaming at him like that as you started to sway to the music, your gaze fixed on him and nothing else.

Steve was so entranced with you he didn't notice and ended up stepping on you. Mortified, he looked down and then back at you with wide eyes, his cheeks rapidly turning a bright red.

You started laughing, shaking your head and not allowing him to pull away after that, the hand you had on his shoulder going to the back of his neck as he apologized profusely.

"Steve, I thought we talked about this. It's fine." You leaned a bit closer to his face to whisper at him, your fingers gently brushing the hair at the nape.

Steve's breath hitched at the feeling, his eyes threatening to close in delight.

"I apologize…"

You giggled and lightly stepped on his foot on purpose, making Steve's eyes go wide again.

"There you go. It's only fair." You said with a wink, making him smile.

You ended up dancing for a couple more songs, Steve confidence building back up as the songs went by.

You two ended up getting closer until your bodies were flush against each other, which you thought perhaps was somewhat uncomfortable for Steve, having to crane his neck so he wouldn't have his face almost on your chest. In that moment, Steve was sure he died and went to heaven and this wasn't even real so it didn't matter if his neck ended up aching or not.

You decided to go back to the table once a faster paced song came up, satisfied with how much you had danced for the night.

After a while, the place started to empty and you saw Bucky coming towards the table with an amused smirk on his face, his hair slightly mussed.

"You're not leaving with that pretty blonde you've been dancing all night?" You asked the brunette as he approached the two of you, cocking a brow at him.

Bucky's smirk grew bigger at your words as he glanced at Steve. He could ask the same thing, apparently. "Your ma will kill me if I don't walk you home. She doesn't know Steve."

"That's true." You sighed, smiling apologetically at the blonde who you had been dancing and flirting with all evening. Your mom only trusted Bucky (because he was an absolute gem every time he came home to bring or pick up Becca). She even mentioned how handsome he was from time to time, in hopes you'd tell her you liked him.

Bucky had been keeping an eye on his two friends while he danced and flirted around and he decided to walk a couple of steps in front of you so you and Steve could have some space, walking with an amused smile on his face and his hands inside the pockets of his pants.

Behind him, Steve seemed to get shy again. You didn't mind walking in silence, having talked for hours, but you knew by now you had to reassure him of your interest or he wouldn't dare to make a move. So, after the back of his hand grazed yours a couple of times, you decided to take his hand, interlocking your fingers with his.

Steve's eyes went straight to look down at your joined hands, then up to your face, where he found you already staring down at him with a smile. He huffed and smiled back before looking away.

Bucky made some small talk along the way, unable to just walk, while trying not to look back. God, he was so obvious. You giggled as you thought about how he had been flirting with you for years and yet, the moment he learned you liked Steve he stopped did everything in his hand to make it happen.

Once you got home, he made sure to speak loud enough your ma would know he got you home and stepped back a few feet, casually looking away and turning his back to wait for Steve to do his thing.

"Thanks for tonight, I had a great time." You said, not letting go of Steve's hand just yet, both of you half way up the entrance stairs.

"Me too. I…" He huffed and chuckled, looking down at his feet. "I honestly never had a night like this." Steve confessed, still not believing it happened.

"We could do it again. Without Bucky." You whispered, tilting his head up with your finger curled under his chin.

Steve gulped and went to brush his fingers through his hair again but you beat him to it, doing it for him as you smiled softly and got down one step so you could be at similar heights, your eyes never leaving his.

"I'd love to." Steve smiled just as softly, silent for a moment as his eyes dropped to your lips, then went back to your eyes. Perhaps kissing you would be too forward, but he would love to do it.

You were now with your back towards Bucky and Steve could see him from his peripheral vision mouth something to him. Having hearing problems, he got pretty good at reading lips but it was dark, so he couldn't see shit.

"Just kiss her already, ya punk!" Bucky whispered-shouted at his friend when he realized he wasn't getting the message, making you start giggling.

"Sorry about him." Steve giggled nervously, glancing back at you.

"He's right, though." You said, trailing the fingers from your free hand down his tie and then going back up.

Steve's giggle died down instantly, his big blue eyes taking you in for a moment. "Yeah?"

"Yeah." You nodded, your hand wrapping around his tie to pull him in, your lips pressing softly against his slightly chapped ones.

It was brief, both of you would've kept kissing but you knew it wasn't appropriate.

You smiled against his lips and gave him another one before pulling away.

Steve's lips followed yours for a second, and you couldn't help but kiss him again, the sight too cute to ignore.

"Okay, you have to go now. Ma will worry if I don't go inside soon." You explained with a smile, letting his tie go and making sure it was in place.

"When can I see you again?" Steve asked still holding your hand, even though his hold loosened, knowing he would have to let it go soon.

"Friday?"

"Would you mind if it was sooner?" He asked sheepishly, a shy smile on his face. He was embarrassed to sound desperate, but he couldn't help it.

"Wednesday afternoon. Final offer." You joked with a chuckle.

"Wednesday. I-I'll think of something nice for you." He confirmed with a nod, letting go of your hand to put his hands back on his pockets, dropping to the step you were on.

"Alright. Don't overthink too much, though. I'm a simple gal. I'll like whatever you plan." You said, trailing your finger across his jaw down to his chin in a tender gesture. "I'll go pick up my sister from Bucky's house tomorrow. Be there?"

Steve nodded with a soft smile in response. You then smiled back and leaned down, tilting his head up again to kiss him one last time, your fingers caressing his soft cheek.

Once you pulled away, you looked at Bucky, who was giving you a thumbs up behind Steve with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

You shook your head and rolled your eyes at him, making Steve turn around to see what was going on.

"Jerk." He whispered to himself as he went down the steps to join Bucky.

"Bye James!" You waved at him as he waved you back.

Steve walked backwards, unable to peel his eyes from you and you waved at him too, throwing him a wink that made him smile again. You mouthed a goodnight at him, getting the same response from the blonde before he finally turned back and walked away with Bucky.

Your cheeks hurt like hell from smiling and you knew you had to shake it off before getting inside. You pulled your key out and took a deep breath before stepping in.

"Hello, ma! Yeah, yeah, that was Bucky…"

#Steve Rogers #Steve Rogers x tall!reader #steve rogers x fem!reader #preserum steve rogers #preserum steve x reader #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #preserum steve x tall reader #preserum steve x tall female reader #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fluff #Juno's fics

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