#he looks older than how i usually draw him oops | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

joshfutturman · 3 months

Text

'birthday wishes’

oneshot (request) - you and abby throw a surprise birthday party for mike! (2.1k words) pairing - mike schmidt (five nights at freddys) + gn reader tags: pure fluff, you and abby put up decorations together, you’ve been her babysitter for a year, there’s lingering feelings between you and mike that neither of you have talked about.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

✰ mike was never a fan of his birthdays, abby had told you. they sort of came and went every year with little fuss. you never brought it up to mike, knowing it was a sore spot for him. being abby’s babysitter, it was rare you and mike had a chance to talk anyway. he’d often come home, nod hello to you and you’d leave. a few rare times he’d sit on the same sofa as you instead of his usual armchair and smile at little things on the tv. you spent more time looking at him than the tv.

✰ but his birthday was coming up and you wanted to do something nice for him, as did abby. it had been a whole year since you’d began babysitting her, you guys were best friends - it was time for a team up attack.

✰ that night, you and abby got to planning. sitting on her bedroom floor, surrounded by crayons and different drawing stationary. she drew little pictures of different decorations, ideas for banners, balloons, the whole works. you smile on as you watch her, happy at how much she had warmed up to you over the year. but she notices you watching, arching an eyebrow and pushing some paper and crayons towards you. your turn.

✰ oops, it was well past abby’s bedtime by the time you both finished. gathering the papers with your master plans on them, you neatly place them in a drawer within her desk before tucking her into bed. you thank each other for the fun, and you disappear down the hall to the couch, your bed for the night. curling up, your eyes are quickly closing as you try to focus, and fail, on the tv. before you know it, your eyes are closed.

✰ mike comes home, but you don’t shuffle in your sleep and wake up like you normally do. he takes a few steps towards the couch, peeking over at you to find you still asleep. mike smiles, admiring you for a few seconds until he feels like a creep and retreats away to his bedroom. a few seconds later he returns with a blanket, placing it over you.

✰ you wake up a few hours later, embarrassed you’d slept in so much. mike actually cooks you some breakfast, you leave with a smile and butterflies. and he won’t admit it, but mike was glad you stayed for as long as you did.

✰ the next night - its go time. you brought home all the decorations you had both planned for mikes big day tomorrow, keeping them hidden in your car until mike left for work as well as some secret ice cream for you and abby. abby excitedly runs around with some of the balloons, giggling and debating keeping them for herself until you pull out the ice cream.

✰ “i think mike is gonna love this,” she says with the wisdom of someone much older than ten, nodding with the spoon still in her mouth. “you think?” you smile, glad to have abby’s stamp of approval. abby looks at you like you’re crazy for asking, “of course!”

✰ after ice cream, it’s time to finish the decorations. abby helps hold your chair steady as you stand on it, pinning up the blue bunting around the living room, attaching some balloons at the end. but there’s still more balloons to blow up, and it takes a while for you both to finish them - red in the face from all the hard work.

✰ you both stand in the middle of the room, hands on your hips, admiring the decorations and how you’ve both transformed the place. it truly looked like the party of the century was about to go down here. abby looks up at you with a great big smile, one that makes your heart melt.

✰ the cake is set on the table, a cute little round white one with blue icing and some blue candles. as you inspect it, you suddenly feel a little nervous. what if mike didn’t react the way you thought? what if he got angry? an image of him flickers in your mind, jaw clenching with that usual look of frustration in his face.

✰ abby gasps as she sees the cake and peers over the table at it with a wide grin, “it looks just like the cake he got me a few years ago for my birthday. . . he’s gonna LOVE it!” - and that puts your worries at ease slightly.

✰ you both wrap up on the sofa, ready to get a nap before he gets home at half six in the morning. there’s a movie on the tv you both enjoy, but abby is out for the count before long. once you know she’s asleep, you begin to relax too, drifting off.

✰ beep. beep. beep. in a groggy state you open your eyes and yawn to find your phone beeping on the coffee table. six twenty-five am, your phone reads. abby is up too, way too chipper for this time in the morning as she springs out of the blanket and begins putting the finishing touches on the decorations. she’s giggling all the while, running into her bedroom to get the picture she drew him for his birthday.

✰ she’d kept the picture a surprise from even you, but you knew it would be amazing - abby was definitely going to be a famous artist one day. with that talent, how could she not?

✰ you’re nervous as you place the small gift you got mike on the table beside his cake. it’s neatly wrapped in gold paper, a dream journal. he’d mentioned in passing about his interest in dreams, it was only once but you remembered. maybe he could use something like this? or maybe he would think it was silly. . .

✰ the sound of the car pulling up outside pulls you from your thoughts and you turn towards the window, seeing mike’s old beat up ride pulling into the driveway. “abby!” you call out, “mike’s home!”

✰ she runs through at the speed of light, stopping at the table as she holds the picture she drew tight to her chest. she’s bouncing a little as she stands, face absolutely beaming. you smile as you stand behind her, feeling yourself chuckle - her energy was so infectious.

✰ hearing mike slowly begin to open the door, abby lets out a small giggle. you watch on as you see him enter.

✰ mikes eyes are on the ground like they normally are when he comes in, not noticing much of anything. but after a few seconds, something catches his eye in his peripheral, something blue. his eyes dart up, noticing the decorations as he absentmindedly closes the door behind him, too preoccupied with scanning the room. he doesn’t even notice the two of you there, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. was this for him?

✰ “happy birthday!!!” abby yells, pulling him out of his daze and he looks over at the two of you. it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him smile like this. it’s soft and gentle and. . . genuine, sort of like how he smiles at the tv but this time it’s on you and it feels different.

✰ “happy birthday, mike!” you yell after abby, a little quieter.

✰ mike’s not sure what to say, shrugging off his backpack and leaving it by the door. he walks over to hang his jacket up, still looking around at all the cute decorations. “you guys did this for me?” he asks as he makes his way back over to the two of you. his eyes find the cake and his face softens even more.

✰ the only reminder he had of his birthday each year was the picture abby drew him, he kept them in his bedside drawer and looked at them on particularly hard days. he’d forgotten his birthday was coming up at all, choosing to let himself forget it. each year it had been a reminder that he was no closer to finding garrett - this year was different.

✰ “we wanted to surprise you!” abby admits, jumping towards him and giving him a small cuddle, he pats her back and glances at you with a shy expression. you’re caught a little off guard by this. what was that?

✰ “you did huh.” mike says, pulling back from abby and smiling at her.

✰ she holds up her picture to him, “surprise!” mike’s face shifts, eyes widening slightly as he takes in the drawing. he accepts it and holds it to look at it properly.

✰ abby glances back at you, and then to him with a sly grin.

✰ “this is. . . really good abby, really cute.” he mumbles and though his smile is shy, it’s also sweet, the same smile he only offered in private.

✰ “can i see? she kept it a secret from me too, but i wanna witness this masterpiece.” you smirk at abby and step over towards mike, standing beside him.

✰ the picture - your eyes widen too. abby had drawn the three of you all together, abby was beside mike holding his hand, you were on the other end of mike, holding his hand. there’s little birds flying around you, a cute little sun in the corner and everyone has big smiles. there’s a little love heart above you and mikes connected hands.

✰ “that’s. . . a really sweet picture abby,” you nod, feeling your cheeks run a little red. mike’s cheeks do the same and abby watches on in complete glee.

✰ “think its my favourite.” mike admits, half joking, half serious. he looks to you for your reaction and you look back at him with a laugh, nudging him with your shoulder.

✰ “i got you something too, just a small thing,” you say, sneaking towards the table and grabbing your little gift, “doesn’t compare to the masterpiece though.” mike sighs softly, “you really shouldn’t have. . .” “well, i wanted to.” you admit with a smile, handing him the present.

✰ mike reluctantly takes it, unwrapping it and holding the dream journal in his hands. he blinks. you remembered. he mentioned in passing being interested in this kind of stuff, maybe seven months ago. he remembers that specific night because you were half asleep. your head kept drooping and mike found it so adorable. again, a smile overtakes his face without him knowing.

✰ “thanks,” is all he says at first, opening it to trace his fingers across the pages, “really, thanks.” his eyes find yours and you can tell he means it. “it’s no problem, just something small but - i remember you said you were interested in dreams and. . . you can use it for notes and stuff.” you say clumsily, almost tripping over your own words.

✰ he nods and stands awkwardly.

✰ abby looks at the two of you, “completely hopeless. . .” she mutters under her breath, too quiet for either of you to hear before she waddles in, pulling you both into a hug. with a hand each on abby’s back and one on each other’s, you and mike embrace a little. this is the closest you’ve ever been and it feels. . . nice.

✰ pulling back, you all let out a little chuckle. this was the nicest birthday mike had experienced since. . . well, since.

✰ you turn away from mike, breathing a small sigh of relief to be away from his gaze for a second - were your cheeks still super red? whatever. you pulled a small lighter from your back pocket and bent over, lighting the candles on the cake.

✰ “come on. . .” mike laughs in disbelief, “you’re not seriously gonna-“

✰ before he can finish his sentence, you and abby begin singing happy birthday to him in sync. abby gladly takes the role of holding the cake with pride, aiming it up towards him. mike stands, glaring at the two of you as you finish the song. you both beam big smiles back at him.

✰ mike waits a few moments, cursing you both with glares before he reluctantly blows out the candles dramatically.

✰ “what did you wish for!” abby blurts out before correcting herself, “no wait, don’t tell! then it won’t come true!”

✰ but mike looks at you. he wished for another birthday next year just like this, with you and abby. unable to wipe the smile from his face, you catch his stare and smile back.

✰ you already had ideas for his next birthday, and it involved a lot more balloons.

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

‧₊˚ dedicated tags: @helen-on-earth @fatinhadesiners06 @boonam @sun-spider13 @laurrrelise @sammygirlism @sleepyhutcherson‧₊˚ ily all sm!! thank you!

.・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・. .・。.・゜✭・.

174 notes · View notes

carrymelikeimcute · 7 months

Text

I'm in my feels again so lets talk about Izzy Hands and violence.

I read a novel ages ago, where an older guy takes a young orphan boy under his wing and teaches him a trade - it's medieval times and said boy becomes a young adult and wants a sword, but his pseudo-father/boss/friend tells him he can't have one, because if he has one, he'll draw it and if he draws it, he could be killed. The safest thing is, paradoxically, to carry no weapons. To learn control of one's temper and control over your surroundings.

The scenes of Izzy and Stede in ep.7 at Jackie's reminded me of that novel.

Obviously Izzy has weapons, tends to put his hand on his sword during arguments and we do see him fighting and killing people. HOWEVER, I think it's really interesting that, given how often we talk about Izzy being repressed (emotionally/sexually/gender-ly) and how controlled he attempts to be, we don't often talk about his controlled approach to violence.

A lot of fic characterises him as someone who is hot tempered and violent, but looking at s1 with fresh eyes, between him and Ed, he's definitely not just the cooler head when it comes to instigating violence, but the one who takes less interest in violence for its own sake as a performance - e.g. Ed's very creative instructions with the tiny fork, the toe thing etc vs Izzy just stabbing Stede. It's a means to an end.

Don't think I'm not saying he has a fucking temper and a half, because he obviously does, but that seems to mostly be vented non-violently through yelling - not yelling at strangers either, but at people he knows and can (usually) judge where the line is.

Until he puts a toe over that line and...oops.

On first meeting Stede, Izzy cuts up his shirt without actually hurting him. It's a threat, but he hasn't drawn blood, hasn't started anything violent...yet. It's almost a display intended to dissuade actual fighting, by showing your potential opponent that they're probably going to lose.

I think one of the reasons Izzy's so annoyed about their losses in the battle with the Spanish is that it's not their fight. They didn't get anything from it - it was pointless (to him, not to Ed obvs). He wants to avoid facing the Spanish again in the following episode, because they stand to lose more than they will gain.

Even when he's actively calling for Ed to kill Stede, he isn't fussy about how. (And he uses manipulation to keep his hands clean - something he does again when selling Ed out to the navy.) Stede needs to be gone, and this is the easiest way to do that. And when he does finally lose it he doesn't just attack Stede without warning - it's within the controlled setting of a duel, which, when Stede starts improvising, breaks down Izzy's control and leads to him becoming emotional, making a mistake and getting his sword broken.

In s2 the pointlessness of the raids is obviously getting to him, disrupting a wedding for no real gain. Losing Ivan for nothing. I don't think the violence is what bothers him, he's a very active participant, but the fact that it's not for anything - it's not enough of a reward in and of itself. (It's like not really caring one way or the other about being a barista, it's just what you do and it's fine, but then suddenly you're not being paid and also your boss keeps burning you with the steam wand on purpose and you just sort of wish you could just get on with your job and make rent like before.)

S1 Izzy seems to lack the whimsy and imagination that Ed/Stede bring to piracy and to violence, but that doesn't make him stupid. They're playing some kind of made-up game that only they know the rules for, and he's trying to play chess with everyone, even when the rules are only a burden to him.

When we see him training, he's being a dramatic candlelit bitch, but he's also measuring his movements, focusing intently and not just hacking away at everything. Even the candles are interesting to me in this context - we see him playing with candles several times in S1/2 and while yes, there is a certain amount of 'Izzy likes pain' in there to unpick, it's also kind of a metaphor for control - fire is one of the most dangerous things to have on a 'wooden vessel' but a candle is like a tiny pet fire that you control - so long as you're careful and respectful. It's all about risk management, respecting dangerous forces and being aware.

When Stede kills Ned, Izzy looks impressed, even seems to smile for a second, but then he looks more subdued and tells Ed that the first kill is a head-fuck. It's like he's proud of Stede being ABLE to kill, but regretful that Stede CHOSE to kill in a situation where it wasn't necessary at all.

I don't think for a moment that Izzy regrets killing most of the people he kills as part of pirate life, but I think he would regret killing someone he didn't have to. Most people wouldn't want to carry that around with them.

We see in ep7. that Izzy is well respected at Jackie's. He tells bigger guys than him to fuck off and just takes people's chairs. He gets called 'Mr. Hands' instead of by his first name. There's a lot of respect there and I think some of it comes from his reputation with Ed, but also, from people knowing that he's not insane - he can be treated respectfully and everything will be fine for all involved. He's not some menace that's going to stab you as likely as pat you on the back.

For all that people are afraid of Blackbeard (and maybe slightly in awe of Stede as of the Ned thing) for their unpredictable natures and occasional violent outbursts, people are still attacking them or pandering to them, actual respect is something else entirely.

Later, Izzy doesn't pull a weapon and tries to discourage Stede from doing so, even tries to get him to leave to prevent a fight from starting. In the fight, he smashes a stool over someone and doesn't just start killing people - it's an appropriate level of violence for the situation, not an escalation.

It feels like Izzy is very much in that place of controlling himself, being aware and knowing when and how to use force practically, proportionally and effectively. This might be age related, but it's also a big part of his personality. I think that's also why he looks impressed by what Zheng does to Steak Knife (rip) because it's so precise, bloodless and quick. She's basically the best captain for him - she's efficient and controlled.

It's easy to confuse 'is willing to kill' with 'is eager to kill'. I don't think Izzy necessarily loathes that part of his job, he seems ambivalent, but it is still a job to him. It's what pirates do, much as the crew of the Revenge do still kill people, it's just part of their life and not some kind of performance or fun activity. It's work, and it's hard and it's unpleasant and if something can be done an easier way - a smarter way - then that's probably the best way.

#ofmd #ofmd spoilers #izzy hands #israel hands #ofmd meta #izzy hands is a character and a half #character discussion #long post

177 notes · View notes

lenafromthenordiccoven · 1 year

Text

Finally working on that Bob x afab!reader x Hangman thingyyy and, uh, reader’s gonna be a bit of menace. Oops. Nevertheless: got a snippet! Let me know what you think :D

The moment you stepped over the threshold of the Hard Deck, you felt his eyes on you. The noise of the other patrons hit you, as soon as you entered the bar, but you didn’t mind the anonymity that came with it – this time, at least. It didn’t take you long to find him in the crowd, sitting at the back of the bar in a corner surrounded by what you assumed were his new squad mates. Bob was staring shamelessly at you, and even from across the room you could see the surprise on his face.

You smiled to yourself. Originally, the plan had been for you to arrive to California on Sunday. But you’d managed to book an earlier flight without telling Bob, wanting to surprise him – and, admittedly, get to spend a little more time with him. The surprise seemed to have worked, if you were to judge the way his eyebrows shot up as he watched you walk over to the bar.

Although you wanted nothing more than to run straight to him and throw your arms around him, you decided to draw out the greeting a bit. You weren’t sure how much Bob had told his coworkers and new friends about you. He’d hardly been able to tell you anything about the last detachment that had taken him back to Top Gun, and probably into more danger than he’d wanted to admit to you. Now, he was set on staying in California for the foreseeable future, had even bought a house.

You finally reached the bar and were greeted by an older woman and a warm smile. “Hi, what can I get ya?”

“Can I get a Whiskey and Ginger Ale?” you asked. The woman nodded and you thanked her, paid for your drink and then turned back to face the rest of the bar while you waited for your drink. Again, your eyes landed on Bob, who still hadn’t let you out of his sight, and you were reminded of the first time you had met.

Dicky, a friend of yours and pilot for the Royal Air Force, had invited you to join him at an air show in Austria – a rare occasion, since Dicky usually didn’t go to these. Just like now, you’d been standing at a bar and Bob had been staring at you from afar. That was until Dicky had introduced you two.

‘It’s not often I meet a US naval aviator at these things. What, is there another war brewing in Europe that you need to save us from?’ you’d joked and had relished in the way Bob’s face had turned an embarrassed shade of crimson, before you’d apologized for the joke.

‘Oh no, no. Please, don’t apologize for that. It’s just... Don’t usually get called out like that,’ he’d replied. And the rest was history. You’d asked him out that same night and you’d developed a long-distance relationship that you had never thought, you’d agree to.

Somebody clearing their throat next to you pulled you from your memory. You turned your head and were met by a thousand-watt-smile in a handsome face. Green eyes were looking down at you. “Haven’t seen you here before, sweetheart. You’re not Navy are ya, I would have remembered a pretty face like yours.” The Texan drawl sent a shiver down your spine, while the blond man’s words made you roll your eyes.

“Let me guess,” you said and looked him up and down for a second, “you’re an aviator. Pilot by that grin. And you’re lonely, otherwise you wouldn’t be standing here and flirting with me? But you’re right, I’m not Navy and I’m not from here, either.”

The grin faltered for a second, before he turned up the wattage. “I like a woman with sharp eyes. And a brain. I’m Hangman.” He extended a hand towards you, and you took it, despite yourself. While you had to admit, he wasn’t bad looking, you weren’t interested in flirting with another cocky pilot. You got enough overblown male egos to deal with at home.

Still, you decided to play nice. “Y/N,” you replied. Then you took your drink and pushed away from the bar. “Just gotta say, uh, Hangnail: I’ve got a boyfriend. So, while this was … admittedly weird, I’m not interested in flirting with you. And I’m going to go find my boyfriend now, thank you very much.”

The grin turned into a smaller smile, but it didn’t lessen the sparkle in Hangman’s eyes. If anything, you felt like you’d just given him a challenge and he’d jumped at it. “It’s Hangman, sweetheart,” he corrected you, but didn’t step closer to you. A point for him.

“Whatever. I like Hangnail better; you can hang your big ego up on that callsign of yours.” You turned and finally made your way over to Bob, who’d watched the whole exchange quietly.

#robert bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #robert bob floyd x reader x jake hangman seresin #this is only temporary - snippet #sophie writes #top gun maverick fanfiction

40 notes · View notes

aecholapis · 9 months

Text

@spacedebris1993 There are two versions of Polarfront that differ in characterization and role, one for TF and the other for an original story.

Polarfront of Sonatus is a teacher for close combat fighting techniques at the capital city's Royal Guard Academy of the Diurnal Kingdom and the main characters' form teacher (one might even call him a sort of mentor figure). He is not a people person (anti-social, not shy), yet his teaching skills leave nothing to be desired and he's good at judging people.

This is the reason why he introduces the main characters to Om who is considered to be the Chosen One that will save Aether in the future. They accept them into their friend group and together they and other students from all across the planet search for a way to fight the corruption spreading from inside their planet's core where a parasite is absorbing its energy.

Since the Diurnal Kingdom is a constitutional monarchy, they need to present their plans in front of the parliament and the Luminescence (religious leader). It just happens that the current Luminescence, Searchmark, was once one of Polarfront's students and more or less his secret lover. They were both young and foolish and when Polarfront discovered that Searchmark had been dared by his friends to start dating their teacher, a relationship which lasted ten years, they broke up and Searchmark joined the royal guard. Now, circa 350 years later, they meet again and the now blind Searchmark recognizes Polarfront by his voice and they have a bittersweet reunion after the presentation.

Aetherians age differently and looking back at the age chart, it doesn't follow any rules nor does it make sense. But it can be used as an approximation to how age works for humans. Polarfront is about 470 years old now (equivalent to a 37 year old human) and Searchmark is 370 (35 year old human).

They have what they call a First Line of Defense type build: sturdy and strong armor protects their organs and their extremities are powerful enough to serve them well in battle. Most main characters are of this build, only Rhiza, one of the older students, is a Second Line of Defense type with a nimbler, more agile physique.

Their armor is fully customizable and represents their heritage, but the fabrics and how they wear them play a more important role in society. Sonatians wear cold colors in honor of their home city that is located in the far south of Aether (it's like a high tech cyberpunk Scandinavian city but on the southern hemisphere). First Line Defenders usually wear them on their shoulders, Second Line Defenders around their hips. If it's on one side, it has to be their dominant one, if it's on both sides then this person does not do manual work. It's different for Second Line Defenders where the placement on both sides means they are a fighter and on either side means they are not.

The general population only wears fabrics in public and it's easy to lie by moving the cape to a different position. The royal family and a select few nobles may wear capes in more than one color. Oops, I strayed too far from the subject. Back to Polarfront. His turquoise shawl is on his left side because he's a leftie.

Polarfront is also the founder of the Exercitus Crudelis ("cruel army", Rhiza suggested the title just for fun and they agreed, much to her dismay) that starts out as a small group of students who promote Aether's environmental protection program. After his death, Searchmark will leave the Luminacy and take over as their new leader, hellbent on avenging his death and slowly turning it into a specialized combat unit with only the original line-up remaining.

First drawing of him (2020)

#light of aether #my ocs #oc stuff #his proportions are ridiculous. big man with tiny t rex arms #sorry for the late reply #i still love how the metal blade was rendered. it almost looks like ice. very fitting

8 notes · View notes

someheroescarryfloss · 8 months

Note

for the fic writer ask: 🥺, 🤡, ✨, 💖 andddd 👀

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

Hurt/comfort for sure. I don't know why, but I seem to be obsessed with it! That and fluff of any kind. It doesn't have to be romantic, it can just be two friends hanging out making cookies or something. Especially if it degenerates into a food fight. You know, where one 'accidentally' throws flour on the other, and oops, now they're throwing bits of cookie dough at each other.

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

Well, this one's kind of dirty, and it's not in this fandom, but I have an unfinished LONG fic involving Dr. Jaming from Dark Cloud 2, and there's this scene I wrote on a dare. He and his (my OC) girlfriend are sick with the flu, and she's visiting his house since she's got the bug too. They're sitting on his bed making pukka shell necklaces, and their conversation is overheard by another character who decided to eavesdrop. It's an innocent exchange, but taken out of context it sounded like they were 'doing things'. Turns out she just got stuck with the needle. It went something like this.

Her: Ouch!

Him: Are you okay?

Her: Sure, it's just a little prick.

And you know me and puns. So...yeah. I don't usually write that kind of story, but I was laughing to myself the whole time imagining the darer's reaction!

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

Ooh, I'm not good at giving myself compliments. But here goes! I'm good at writing emotional stories. I'm partly drawing on my own past experiences (not literally, but similar situations) and partly putting myself in the character's position and asking myself how would I react if I were them. Not so easy to do when the character's personality is really different from mine. Hopefully I pull it off!

💖 What made you start writing?

My fifth grade teacher said I had a talent for it. Thinking back, I was a jittery kid with ADHD who couldn't sit still, so maybe she told me that hoping to get me to focus. Like some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. Well, I never became a published author like I wanted to be when I was younger, but I do still enjoy writing.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

I don't have any new stories in the works, but I do have something planned for ASB and IAB. I just don't know how or where I'll have it! So, here's a BIG spoiler.

I mean a BIG one.

Not kidding.

You ready?

Okay.

Brandel was NOT Fergus's biological father, and he realized this as Fergus got older and didn't look like him...but looked an awful lot like another Fairy who isn't in town very often.

Roy's biological grandfather is completely unknown to him so far. Not only that, but he's a member of a small subsection of Fairies who aren't pleased with the caste system in their town. Things happen, Alpha is banned from the Fairy Town, and TF basically says, "Fine. I'm going with her." TF's grandfather eventually introduces himself, tells him "You and Alpha have more friends than you think", and that's as much as I'm going to say for now. ;)

Except I've sort of written myself into a few corners, so I have to pull something out of my butt at some point to fix it!

#Asks #For the fic writer #Spoilers #The Santa Clause #The Santa Clause 2 #The Santa Clause 3 #Thanks! These were fun!

5 notes · View notes

mickules · 3 years

Text

ASK DUMP

But first:

OOPS [for context]

My hand slipped.

Yous all ready for a MAMMOTH ask post? I mean it this is LONG

[edit: completely forgot to add the ‘read more’ rip your dash this is L O N G]

(next set of asks are [here]! in smaller bites this time)

Honestly I’m kinda boring when it comes to headcanons, they’re mostly canon compliant or I end up floating about on the general consensus of popular fanon. Here, however, is a bunch of little titbits!

~Hifumi draws like Boichi. The idea he has a super detail oriented style and not a cutesy one cracks me up.

~The difference between Taeko and Celeste; those colour contacts are prescription. (Taeko doesn’t look too dissimilar to Toko and she hates that)

~Likewise, Gundham takes forever to get ready as he re-applies the “wards necessary to allow mere mortals to withstand the presence of The Supreme Overlord of Ice”

~Kazuichi on the other hand is au naturale. He just looks like that.

~Hiro is right, where do you think his clairvoyant abilities came from?

~Taka has had to shave every morning since he was 13, (he looks like Masaaki Sakai from Monkey if he grows it out) Mondo will never be able to grow any facial hair, and he’s salty about it. His hair is naturally curly but he straightens the back for that Pomp Aesthetic

~Taka is a very restless sleeper, never wakes up in the same position as he went to sleep. At Hope’s Peak he usually finds himself waking up across the room, on the floor.

~Additionally, He eats like a gannet - maximum efficiency (until he gets indigestion) [more on this]

~Red eyes and a diabolical resting bitch face is the dominant trait of the Ishimaru Bloodline. (POV trying to have a casual conversation)

~Takaaki is a divorcee not a widower; his marriage was an arranged one organised by Toranosuke, and when the scandal went down the marriage was dissolved by the bride’s family. [more on this]

She was 5′3′’

Takaaki just wants someone tall enough so he can take a nice photo (I had to google ‘no homo with socks’, I hope you’re happy)

---

30% of Takaaki’s intimidation is his height, the rest is his Glare™

Ah! I can understand the confusion! That was actually an older Mondo, as the anon had asked about Kaito being Mondo and Taka’s kid. I’m easy going when it comes to pairing characters together, I don’t mind answering questions along that vein! I love to see other people’s interpretations, and how they imagine a relationship develops. I’ve seen some absolutely adorable art of them as a couple! Personally however, I don’t have a good idea of their chemistry in my head, so I don’t think of them as being together. At the very least not in this weird AU thing I’ve got going on.

---

Bold of you to assume Takemichi hasn’t been keeping it a secret. Not out of fear or shame, but rather because Michi would do anything to keep nosy, overbearing, meddling Daiya out of his love-life. He’s seen how Daiya absolutely ROASTS Mondo every-time he strikes out, and Michi ain’t about to open himself up to that. I imagine Daiya finds out whilst frequenting a gay bar- like that Doctor/Donna Doctor Who scene:

He is then resolutely recruited as a Gay Consultant™

They become very popular regulars. (tags got me creasing)

@hawklanthebard

You’re not wrong - that’s a fabulous concept, but they’re gonna have to catch him first. Surviving middle school gave Taka an unusually highly developed intuition for trouble and an excellent default flight or fight response

Mondo having to deal with his gang associations negatively effecting his ‘civilian’ life and friends? *Chef’s Kiss*

---

Taka with his wooden sword would be a sight to behold. Unfortunately, I doubt brandishing a sword would be welcome in a school environment - so he’d unlikely use it for anything other than exercise. ISHIDA ON THE OTHERHAND

Hifumi might have had a bit more trouble

@emiefaunwrites

(Thank you so much! That’s so very sweet! I’m glad you like! :D) SO I didn’t originally have a timeline when I started making the comics, but NOW I do, so it’s a bit of a mess lol! BASICALLY: ~Daiya survived the bike crash ~Mondo & Taka go to Hope’s Peak ~They become friends (I have a comic planned for this, and it’s NOT a sauna scene *wiggles eyebrows*) ~[The Yakuza Incident] this is when Mondo catches feelings, but chalks it up to the adrenaline of the situation ~[Mondo meets Takaaki] and [makes a great impression] ~Daiya is introduced to Taka, and gives him “The Shirt” unbeknownst to Mondo ~Taka has his own Gay Panic™ (this is another comic comin’ in the pipeline!) but he doesn’t recognise it for what it is. ~[Takaaki finds The Shirt, and him and Daiya make their plan] ~[The Hershey’s Kiss Incident] Mondo has to ask himself some PRETTY SEARCHING questions after this, whilst Taka has to wrestle with the revelation that if Mondo asked for a kiss, Taka would not hesitate to do it. ~ and Finally, eventually, a Confession (this is another comic, but it’ll deffo be a while before this one is done)

---

@crackinwise

Takemichi sees the Oowada brothers as a single unit - he is 'second’ to both of them. So, whilst Mondo is at Hope’s Peak, Takemichi defaults to keeping an eye on Daiya to give Mondo some piece of mind, since Daiya still a target for rival gangs. Takemichi’s title of ‘second’ is just a formality of the gang. Daiya doesn’t really go in for the hierarchy stuff, but it’s the gang that insists on it and Mondo unfortunately really internalised it. From the gang’s perspective, you have the suave leader, his sharp, loyal 2nd in command and his volatile brother he has to reign in, when in reality Daiya delegated a lot of his responsibilities to Mondo and Michi over time, and was more a figurehead than an actual leader by his retirement.

(I’ve got some more Leon in a future comic - have a peek, he’s got such a cheeky face) [this comic is now done!]

Mondo’s unsuccessful romantic attempts are the favourite gossip topic of a surprising amount of class 78 tho’ not within earshot of Mondo obviously - They’re secretly cheering him on but they also have a betting pool based on how quickly he’ll scare the girl away. Celeste has made a very tidy profit.

---

Taka is 100% the type who’d inform the mcdonald’s cashier that they gave him too many nuggets and try to pay the extra. He’s IMPOSSIBLE to do a favour for.

[persona ref here]

@chinchillasinunison

I agree, Mondo in specs is A+, but yes, ‘tis a persona reference. I FULLY recommend Persona 4 if you get the chance! It’s a JRPG, but the ‘dungeons’ are people’s psyches, and when they’re inside they have to confront a ‘shadow’ which is basically some aspect of themselves they’ve repressed or heavily dislike. The stress of being in the dungeons causes people to get dizzy and confused, and the glasses stop that- it suggests Mondo has already confronted his own shadow, before Taka had to confront his. . .

---

That’s some excellent analysis right there! Taka 100% has some deep seated issues to do with his relationship with control. I think his new friendship with someone so far outside his understood norm of ‘acceptable’ would have rattled some of those insecurities loose. There would be an inherent need for Taka to try to ‘improve’ Mondo’s behaviour - to try to make Mondo more “acceptable to society”, the way Taka was taught to be. But by doing so, he would be removing something that makes Mondo who he is. It would come down to an internal fight of being a hypocrite for overlooking Mondo’s anti-social behaviour, or trying to control Mondo and making him into something he’s not. Taka would hate himself for not being able to accept Mondo wholesale, the way he wishes people would accept himself, and the way he knows friends SHOULD do - basically a microcosm of the wider span of his anxiety with his chosen path and future.

(ahhhh! !Thank-you! That’s supremely kind! I’m still really enjoying the Dangan stuff, and if I move on to other things and folk don’t vibe with it - It’s all good! No worries! My only goal on this tumble is to enjoy myself, and so far that ain’t changed :D)

---

NOICE! Excellent recommendations I’m lovin’ them! Always happy to get more! 👀

Also, from that DR chatfic:

“TAIL ‘EM NAEGGI”

I have been outdone.

---

(AH! You flatter me! I’ll keep on tryna be cool!) [pic is here!] Daiya and Takaaki being casual allies is definitely a dynamic I really enjoy; Crazy Crafters is such an enjoyable fic! All the little interactions and character chemistry works so well together! Chasml’s fics are ones that I keep coming back to - I ADORE Their characterisations.

@rc-hetalia-mun

Dang you right, Honestly I needed a kid and his mum for the Crazy Crafters [pic] and Hiro has such a fun design; it was inevitable.

---

(AH! Thanks!! What a compliment!! :-0 !! ) Normally, someone as jacked as Mondo would have a craggier face, not unlike Sakura’s sharp nose and defined cheekbones - but he’s got surprisingly soft features, I think those big eyes and long tapered eyelashes really add to it.

---

(!!!!!THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!!) Taka doesn’t even smile that much in his in game sprites but I CANNOT HELP IT! He has such a wide, welcoming smile and I LOVE DRAWING IT!!

---

(Thank you! I loved doin’ it!) All credit 100% goes to @monikamarkovova They have the most SUPREMELY FLUFFY MOTHMEN art and I am in AWE, I cannot compare. I do not know how they do it. [here for ref]

---

(ahh! <3 thanks very much!) Here’s a bit of a behind the scenes! I do all my sketches in colour ‘cos I find it easier on my eyes. I have trouble telling the difference between colours of a close tone, so it’s easier to see when distinguishing between the sketch and the black lines when I’m doing lineart. Red just happens to be my go to since it’s quickest to get to on the colour slider and I’m lazy. The sketches you see are pretty much 1 to 1 what I use for lineart, minus the half tones. If I have multiple sketch layers, I’ll use multiple colours so I can see easier, but usually I do all my sketches directly on my guideline layer because I’m a madman. Here’s a coupla examples:

here’s a rare one where I didn’t draw directly onto my messy af guidelines- but I always start with red, then blue, then green and very occasionally purple if I need a fourth.

I keep the mini-comic sketches in red since I think it looks better. Black is harsh and can be unforgiving and I think it makes it easier to see how rough my sketches are. In colour it’s a little softer - and to me - more pleasing to the eye! (and even when I do use black- it’s usually at partial opacity to soften it out)

---

AND cos I’ve been watching too much Natsume Yuujincho (FULLY RECOMMEND it’s delightful) Have a quick redraw:

As my brother described it “Kiyotaka and his Fat Biker Cat”

And that’s it for now! The ask box is nice and empty, thanks for so many brilliant asks and sorry it took so long! I’m working on ‘Taka and Mondo becoming friends’ comic and ‘Taka gets a clue’ (edit: this one is [done]) comic, and I hope neither will take too long! :)

752 notes · View notes

lyssahlyssah · 3 years

Text

Obey Me! The Present

a/n: not suitable for work

Well, this took a week of my life, but it's ok! It's obviously something I needed to get off my chest (ahem). I hope you enjoy. 🟣🔵⚫

pairing: F!MC x Belphegor, category: (very) not suitable for work, warnings: some angst, virgin sex, penetration, oral sex, teasing, man-eating petunias. description: Belphie give F!MC the present she's always wanted. wordcount: 2.1k

"Is there anything else I can do for you for your birthday? Being your present and all. "

In your room, Belphie stands in front of you with his usual coy smile. Tall and gorgeous, he cocks his head to one side causing hair to fall into his violet eyes. He confidently holds your gaze. As the gaze lingers, his smile deepens, playfully suggestive.

Today is your birthday and you've spent it on a date with Belphie. Feeling guilty after forgetting to buy you anything, he had cleverly volunteered to be your present, granting you any wishes you wanted.

Excited by his creativity (and the prospect of time with him alone), you had taken full advantage, first visiting the planetarium and then the botanical gardens. You'd laughed together, played around, took naps under a tree with his head in your lap. At the botanical gardens, he'd even rescued you from man-eating petunias after you took a wrong turn, and had shamelessly teased you about it since. Everything was effortless and fun when you were together.

And now, looking at his smiling face, you reflected on how far the two of you'd come. This wasn't Belphie from long ago in the attic; the angry and vengeful demon that once tried to kill you, heart twisted with hate from the loss of his beloved sister. No, he had changed. As time had gone on, he had warmed to the whole world, even to his older brother Lucifer, whom he had once admitted hating to the point of murder. He was now letting people to get close to him again. And especially you. He had opened the door to his heart and was inviting you in.

Because of the complicated history you shared, a special bond grew between you. His aloofness drew your open and loving nature like a moth to a flame, and you clicked like magnets due to your differences. Over any of the other brothers, he made you feel comfortable. Facing him now, you realized you've fallen hard for the infamous sloth demon. It was for those reasons, a response to his question immediately floated to your lips.

"Kiss me", you say, giving him a smile of your own.

"Sure", he agrees, a blush on his cheeks. Your lips meet. It's soft and sweet. Somehow, even though you aren't sure where he found the time between naps to become this way, Belphie is an incredible kisser.

His lips push down on yours with a little more force, then abruptly pull back, leaving you breathless. "Is that all?" he asks. "In that case, I'll give myself to you every day" his eyes crinkle in a smile, ever teasing.

You wet your lips, heart pattering in your chest. You did want more from him...a lot more. Now or never. you think. You catch his hand and hold it. "Ah...Belphie...actually, what I want instead, is to give m-myself....to you." you stammer a little in getting it out. His eyes widen as he realizes what you're insinuating. Silence.

"MC...you sure? With me?" Belphie stares back at you, no longer joking. He pauses. "Why me? Why not Lucifer...or...or...The Great Mammon?" he says, with a sarcastic flourish.

When he sees your face drop, he immediately apologizes and runs a hand through his thick hair, ruffling it. His voice softens. "I'm sorry...I've been angry for so long, you know? Sometimes it just comes out when I don't mean it to."

He takes your hand again and pulls you to the bed where you sit down together. Color rises in his cheeks. "Really though...I've lied to you, I've manipulated you. Not that long ago...I even tried to kill you. Why am I the one you want for this?" He searches your face for an answer.

"You're my master, I can't refuse you, and I'd be crazy to anyway, but...why me?" Standing up, he paces a few feet in a circle, then sits down again. You've rarely seen him this worked up; it's obvious he still hasn't totally forgiven himself for hurting you.

"I love you Belphie", the words fall out of your mouth. Your eyes widen. You search your feelings and know it isn't a lie. His eyes are wide too. "Do...do you mean that?" he questions, leaning back.

You nod, "I need you, Belphie. I feel safe with you; I know you'd never hurt me now. And...I know you need me too". You continue, your voice low. "I want you. More than anyone else".

The words visibly shake him. He drops his head, staring into his lap, then slowly brings his head back up and gazes at you. You're taken aback by the open desire you see there. It's as if a mask has fallen off and you're seeing the real him for the first time.

When he speaks, it's slowly, deliberately.

"I want to know you that way, MC...More intimately than anyone ever has." His eyes start to glow a fierce purple. "You're mine, and I want to be your first. I want to give you something to remember me by when you go back to the human world." You swallow hard, your heart starting to race and nod.

He leans forward, takes your face between his hands, and kisses you. And again. Deeply, tongue reaching hungrily into your mouth. You whimper against his lips, full of want.

You give yourself over completely to his touch. His hands are on your face, guiding the movement of your heads. It feels so good, all the strength leaves you, and you fully let him hold you up. Between kisses, he makes small sounds of passion.

"You drive me crazy" he murmurs, looking into your eyes. A thrill runs up your spine. He's here, fully here - with you. No distance. Not a trace of sleepiness. In this moment of closeness, Belphie has completely overcome his sin.

You gasp as his fingers effortlessly snap off the button to your jeans with an audible pop. "Oops", he says, not sounding sorry in the slightest.

He leans you back onto the covers. Continuing to kiss you, he slides his hand into your jeans and caresses your lower stomach, playing with the hollow of your hip bone. Ticklish, you sharply draw in a breath, causing him to smile at you. "Don't be nervous" he says reassuringly. "I'll take care of you".

He sides your pants down, and then completely takes them off. You shiver, all at once feeling vulnerable.

"Mmmm..." He murmurs, looking over your body. "You're so beautiful. I've dreamed about getting to touch you like this". He reverently slides his hands up and down your thighs, your hips, your waist. Goosebumps raise up at his touch.

Holding your gaze, he leans down and pulls your shirt over your head then sits upright and does the same for himself. His hair is even more disheveled afterward and the thought of it being that way because you're in bed together turns you on.

Even though you've napped together endlessly, you've never seen this much of his body, and you sigh with pleasure drinking in the width of his shoulders, his flat stomach. He watches you just as avidly and the small smile returns as he sees the effect he has on you.

Leaning in, Belphie captures your lips once more in a steamy kiss. Running his hands up your shoulders, he cups your cheeks, then traces down your back and unhooks your bra. You respond by thrusting your own hands into his hair and pulling him to you.

He kisses his way down your chest and your stomach, where his lips leave little trails of fire on your skin. You try but can't remember ever feeling more aroused. He playfully nips your belly button as it goes by, and smiles when you jump and protest, eyes glinting.

Belphie stops between your legs, breathing out slowly, and kisses up one of your thighs. At the top he hugs it to his face, cheek pressing into the flesh. Pausing, he looks at you sideways and says, "I've wanted to do this since we met".

Taking his time, he hooks your panties with one finger and pulls them down. Admiring the view, he runs a finger down your core, lightly teasing your clit. You sigh, then jump when he gives a jerk. "You're so fucking wet down here" he utters in awed tones.

Seeing you so excited for him seems to unhinge him a little. Looking at your soaked slit with total attention, he raises his finger to his lips and lightly sucks off your excitement. His eyes flutter close and a low groan of desire escapes him. Leaning in, he buries his face in your folds. His soft tongue pushes roughly against your swollen clit and it's your turn to gasp.

He continues to work on you for a few minutes. The pleasure overwhelms you, but still, you want him deeper. Parts of yourself you aren't familiar with are showing up and demanding to be satisfied. You try to stretch your legs further and wider apart so his tongue can reach every needy part of you. More than happy to help, he greedily tongues your tight hole. "B-Belphie!" Your voice rises as you near your climax. He reaches one hand up and laces your fingers through his. "Go ahead, MC...I've got you, you're safe. I want to taste you when you cum." Soothed, you let yourself go fully, shuddering, waves of euphoria threatening to drown you. "Mmmm..." Belphie says contentedly. You can feel his lips as he captures every last drop on his tongue.

You collapse into the pillows as the pleasure ebbs away, but he doesn't give you time to rest. You feel manicured fingers slide into your slippery hole. At first, it's a gentle in-and-out getting you used to the sensation. You squirm, your flesh still sensitive from his earlier attentions. After a few moments, he picks up the pace and starts pushing into you faster and deeper, turning and curling the digits. Mewling with every thrust, you blush bright red, still a little self-conscious From his place cradled between your legs, he watches your face possessively. "I love your sounds", he says.

Pleasure begins to fill your abdomen once again as you near climax, and you involuntarily start to grind against his hand, desperate to increase the tempo. Loving your impatience, he dips his head down and bites you on the inside of your thigh, near your core. Surprised by the unexpected sensation, you're pushed over the edge, launching into oblivion for the second time. This time he can't help himself and covers your mouth in a passionate kiss, jealously swallowing your cries of pleasure.

Thoroughly ravaged, you look up at him through half-lidded eyes. Belphie looks back at you, spellbound by the state you're in. "B...Belphie", you manage to get out. "What, MC?" he softly answers. "I need you inside me", you pleadingly say to his violet eyes. He shudders and pulls back from you.

"Okay", he says, unfastening his pants button. He pulls them down and his length springs out, large, strong, and perfect. Dazzled, your mouth drops open slightly. He smiles confidently at you and crawls back up your body. Once there, he turns your hips so you're lying on your back with your hips to one side, lined up to your exposed slit on his knees. He runs his hands over your ass, squeezing it, testing its softness, before bringing his hands back to grip your hip with both hands. "Tell me if I hurt you", he says with unexpected tenderness and starts to push inside you.

Due to the position of your hips and your overall tightness, his first thrust is shallow, but the friction makes you both groan. Pulling out slowly, drawing out the pleasure, he pushes inside again, going slightly deeper. Your eyes roll back in your head. He feels blissful, way past anything you had imagined.

Using your hip to pull your ass against his lap, he starts to move more quickly. With abandon, you throw your arms against the covers above your head, your face falling to one side and breasts jiggling as the snap of his thrusts push you up and down. Also lost in pleasure, his eyes are closed and low groans rumble from his throat.

It doesn't take long for you to climax again, and then again. Your walls clenching tightly around him, each climax earns you a growl, but Belphie shows no signs of giving you mercy. Finally, even though you wish it could last forever, he thrusts deeply within you and you feel his warmth spread into your abdomen.

Completely spent, you lay together in the candlelight, your head on his chest, legs intertwined. Your core aches sweetly. He holds you close. Happier than you've felt in your entire life, you both start to drop off. As you do, you raise your head to look at him, and you see he's already asleep. Full of affection, your chin on his chest, you breathe, "Thank you for granting my wish". Seconds later, fading into darkness you hear him whisper, "I love you, too".

#obey me swd #obey me reader insert #obey me smut #obey me!#obey me #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #belphie x mc #swd belphie #belphie #swd: obey me #obey me writing #obey me imagines

205 notes · View notes

starglow-xx · 3 years

Note

(About the brother!atsushi) aRE YOU READING MY MIND MISS?! Because that has been on my mind for MONTHS. TYSM For writing it was amazing!! If you don't mind, may I request (if requests are open) atsushi, still an older brother, but with a sister that's 10-13 yrs old? It's totally fine if you don't wanna do it. Keep up the good stories, ily mwuah!

*sobs* you’re so kind thank youu 🤧🤧

i wrote this a bit differently i hope that’s okay anon! at first i planned for this to be mainly abt atsushi and the reader, but i decided to add in relationship hcs with the agency bc i ran out of ideas

if you guys liked this don’t worry! im planning a special part two for this one so be the look out for it hehe

atsushi with a tween! sister

ft. the armed detective agency

like in my baby sister hcs, you’re still the most important thing to him period

the two of you got picked up by dazai and kunikida when he was 18 (obviously) and when you were 12

for a 12 year old, you were a bit small bc of malnourishment (which makes atsushi feel so bad) so both dazai and kunikida thought you were a bit younger than you actually were

they assumed you were about 9-10ish

you and atsushi both share a favorite food !! chazuke :)

so when kunikida treated the two of you, he made sure you got more bowls bc like i mentioned above, he feels really bad that you were malnourished and under weight

(don’t bring this up but kunikida felt bad too hehe)

when dazai went with your brother to the warehouse, you were with kunikida

imagine the surprise of the other ada members when kunikida came in with a little girl dressed in rags that popped out from behind him

kenji was the one who vocalized his thoughts

“kunikida-san you have a daughter?! wow! i didn’t know that! :D”

when you found out your brother was a tiger, you were a bit concerned but you were actually kind of excited

you were even more excited when you found out the two of you were going to be taken in by the agency

anything was better than the stupid orphanage

and besides!

you got a tiger for an older brother and a bunch of other super powered agents to take care of you! who could want anything else?

at your age, you’re very impressionable and can be influenced easily so atsushi makes sure to teach you more in depth of good morals and the importance of kindness

his heart swells with pride and relief when he catches you being kind to others

pride bc he’s proud that even after all the two of you have gone through, you still ended up being a good kid and having a bright view of the world

and relief bc he hasn’t failed as a big brother

pfftt like he could ever fail

but please, from time to time reassure him that he’s perfect and the only big brother that you’d ever want bc he rlly needs that kind of validation

with his salary and savings, he tries to buy nice things for you

what a sweetheart 🥺

he saw you eyeing that one dress at a store window? fast forward abt a week and half and it’s inside a pretty gift bag for you

you wanted to try that dessert from the nice bakery? that’s dessert after dinner at one point

but other than buying you things, he sets money aside for you

like all the time

(y/n), here have this, you might need it”

“but nii-san you just gave me—”

“take it”

#1 spoiler

also your #1 confidant and source of physical affection

you tell him anything and everything (except crushies and those kinds of things)

atsushi loves it when you talk abt your day and he can see the big smile on your face and the sparkle in your eyes

it gives him the strength to keep going 😖😖

the two of you aren’t as touch starved as you’d probably think, but that’s only bc the two of you had each other

in your opinion, no one can match the hugs of your big brother

and it got even better bc YAYY he has tiger arms now ٩(◕‿◕)۶

if you ask, he’d carry you around too hehe

you also get nightmares quite often so he’ll always be there ready to calm you down, talk if you need to, and rock you back to sleep

god i love him 🤧🤧

atsushi will do everything in his power to protect you and make sure you get to grow up happy, supported, and loved

port mafia attack? oop he’s already taking you to the nearest escape route

someone is starting to harass you? they just got suckered punched into the next week

you want to go out to have some fun? he’ll go ask the president for a day off

you’re not feeling well? he’ll take another day off and take care of you

whatever you want to do, he’ll do it with you! (as long as it’s within reason)

will always be your #1 supporter! and he’s the president of your fan club hehe

he loves you so so much and will do anything for you; your life and happiness will always be more important to him

you are his reason to keep going

agency head canons !!

atsushi is your big brother, but kunikida is most definitely some sort of father figure

everyone can see it

except kunikida of course

kunikida scolds you lightly if he thinks your manners need work or if you make a mess in the agency

you listen to him of course and in turn as some sort of a reward, he’ll give you pieces of stationary

he always gives you the nice, good quality kind and you’re over the moon

atsushi adores it when you come running to him showing your new notebook or fountain pen and blabbering what you’re going to do with it

sometimes it isn’t even as a reward for being a good child; he’ll just give it to you and he’ll say smth like “i noticed you’ve used up your last notebook quite quickly, so here’s another one” or “did you run out of ink? here have this then”

he usually has a soft spot for children in general, but he most definitely has a soft spot (or a thousand) for you

yosano is kind of like a motherly figure to you

she gives you the guidance a mother should and goes on shopping trips with you!

atsushi always gets dragged along by you, but he thinks it’s worth it seeing you look so happy

yosano being a doctor also tries to teach the things you should know, or things that would be helpful to you

she’ll teach you the basics of cooking, sewing, how to treat a cold/fever, etc

also gives you excellent advice 1000% of the time

“remember (y/n)-chan if someone hurts you come tell me and then i’ll chop them into—”

“yOSANO-SENSEI DONT TELL HER THAT—”

fukuzawa is like a father to most in the agency but you see him more as a grandfather figure

bi weekly tea and gossip sessions hehe

along with cat talk!

most of the time though, it’s just you talking and him listening to you, but the two of you enjoy it nonetheless

“and then kunikida-san ended up crashing into a pole and dazai-san started to laugh at him and i did too because it was really funny but we ended up getting scolded—”

“hmm i see...”

he’ll let you stay in his office as he fills out paperwork; you’re usually doodling or drawing in your notebooks

sometimes he’ll meditate and you’ll join him, but 4/7 times you’d fall asleep

you always wake up with a blanket over you

dazai is like a cool but a highly concerning and kind of high maintenance uncle

frequently takes you out with him when he ditches work

walks in the park, eating at uzumaki so he has the excuse of treating you so he doesn’t have to pay his tab avoiding kunikida and sometimes chuuya and akutagawa, all that fun stuff

also tries to not talk abt suicide in front of you especially if it’s just the two of you alone

he knows that you mean the world to his pupil and that said pupil would probably hate him for putting suicide inside your brain

he teaches you random but useful things like how to pick a lock, how to steal kunikida’s notebook if you’re looking for some information, how to sweet talk your way out of things, etc.

is also the one to tell you that if you ever get a significant other to introduce them to the agency first

he always wants all of your gossip; some of them work pretty well for blackmail

“dazai-san! dazai-san! did you know that kunikida-san lost his glasses and he was looking for them for nearly an hour when he was just holding them the entire time??”

“woah really (y/n)-chan?! hey hey can you say it again into this recording device so kunikida-kun would believe me when i tell him—”

always ends up giving kunikida a heart attack when he says that you’ve been with him all day

ranpo is also like a cool but a highly concerning and kind of high maintenance uncle

will share some of his snacks, but don’t push it or you might not get anything at all

loves it when you compliment him

if you tagged along with him and your brother on a case, he will show off to impress you

“...and that’s how the crime happened”

“UWAHH RANPO-SAN YOU’RE SO COOL”

atsushi is lowkey and kunikida is highkey stressed that ranpo’s eating habits will rub off on you

“ne (y/n)-chan do you wanna try this highly caffeinated drink and this concerning amount of sugar filled snack?”

“can i really?!”

“rANPO-SAN NO—”

ranpo definitely does stuff like that on purpose

the tanizakis are like siblings to you!

a weird set of siblings but siblings nonetheless

the two of them adore you and think you’re precious

atsushi definitely knows how to do your hair whether it’s long or short but he got even better at it when he asked the two

hehe braid trains are definitely a thing + kyouka and kenji (and maybe even dazai)

sometimes you have sibling swap days

you’re with junichiro for most of the day and atsushi is with naomi

strange i know

each of the tanizaki siblings try to make it fun bc they know that the two of you did not at all have a happy upbringing

junichiro likes spending time with you by taking you out to different places that naomi likes to frequent

like the mall, different stores and restaurants, the park, places like those

naomi does the same thing with atsushi so if you ever bump into them, you go out and eat together :)

besides atsushi, the next one in line who spoils you the most would be junichiro (and yosano & kunikida both coming in at a close third)

he honestly can’t help it; you remind him of how naomi was when she was younger

and besides

he’s always been a sucker when it came to the happiness of a little sister

“would you really buy this for me junichiro-san?!”

“of course! don’t worry about it” :)

wanna talk abt boys/girls/celebrity crushes things like that? naomi is your girl

you feel a bit embarrassed to go talking to yosano or your brother abt that and kyouka does not know a thing abt them either

“uwahh naomi-san look at all these people in this magazine! they look so good!”

“right?! but of course onii-sama is still the best—”

you get along with kenji and kyouka quite nicely being roughly the same age as them; they’re also like siblings!

just pure, wholesome vibes from the three of you

you’re over the moon when she finds out that kyouka is staying with you and your brother

atsushi is twice as happy seeing you talk your mouth off and finally having a girl around your age to talk to

“do you think demon snow can change how she looks?”

“hmm... im not sure...”

you and kenji talk abt anything and everything

he even teaches you how to take care of plants!

sometimes the two of you are kind of in the same boat bc you don’t know much abt yokohoma being stuck in the orphanage and kenji doesn’t know much abt cities in general

“wait where are we again kenji-san?”

“ah we’re close to the ports! but im not really sure how close because i don’t know what the symbols on this sign mean”

“don’t worry! neither do i!”

bonus things!

yosano was kind of too late teaching you abt you know what

“NII-SAN IM BLEEDING IN BETWEEN MY LEGS”

you’re sobbing in the agency’s bathroom and atsushi is panicking trying to get you to open the door

“Y/N?! H-HOLD ON LET ME GET YOSANO SENSEI”

ranpo overhears and cackles making everyone around him confused

suddenly atsushi bursts in the agency basically on the verge of tears rambling incoherent sentences abt the bathroom, you, and blood

it just clicked for everybody in the room

(im going to pretend that kenji has sisters back home so that atsushi is the only one who remain oblivious here hehe)

atsushi is genuinely confused and sort of concerned that no one is freaking out with him

yosano waves her hand saying smth like that she’d take care of it and junichiro pulls atsushi to the side to talk to him

fast forward like half and hour and dazai and ranpo are cackling on the looks of both of your faces

honestly not sure who’s more traumatized, you or your brother

“why does this have to happen” :(

“ne ne (y/n)-chan!~ you’re too young but at some point you’re not going to have it!”

“uwahh really dazai-san?” :D

“yeah! but first you have to have ANFK—”

next thing you know your ears are being covered by your brother and dazai is thrown across the room by kunikida

you know

the normal

you’re twelve and have never gone to school, but the agency takes care of that

it’s too dangerous to go to school so they teach you what’s necessary and whatever else they can

kunikida takes care of math (obviously)

yosano takes care of science/biology/anatomy/health (whatever you wanna call it)

ranpo even dragged poe to help you with english

atsushi even got lucy to help you out with english too!

as tanizaki and naomi used to be students, they give you their old work books and they try to teach you all the other subjects

sometimes kyouka and kenji are there learing with you too!

sorry if there’s some errors! i’ll read through it again later :)

and as always, reblogs and shares are appreciated! i hope you all stay safe! and just in case nobody told you they loved you today, i love you! you are enough! <3

writing belongs to me! please do not plagiarize! the reblog button is there for a reason

726 notes · View notes

sorryimananti-romantic · 3 years

Text

Mist | Choi San | Chapter 1

Pairing: Choi San x OC (Seohyun)

Genre: supernatural (ghost), romance, high school

Trigger Warnings: paranormal, death mentions, violence

Words: 7.2k

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except my original character and the story. I do not own any gifs or pictures used.

Full story on Wattpad (don’t spoil here if you read there too)

chapter directory

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

Seohyun kicked a pebble with her boot, sending it flying in the air. The black cat following Seohyun meowed as it wandered between her legs, rubbing itself along her naked legs. Seohyun kicked another pebble, and the cat meowed louder.

"I know, I know," she said, sighing, "I shouldn't have helped him."

The cat's grey eyes twinkled and it jumped a little to keep pace with Seohyun. She adjusted her sunglasses with the tip of her finger and tucked her long hair behind her ears, keeping her eyes fixed to the ground in hopes of finding more pebbles that she could kick.

Seohyun's hands went to the straps of her school bag on her shoulders as she finally found one, and she smirked. "Hey kitty, I'm gonna kick this one real hard."

As if the cat understood, it sat near her to watch the scene. Seohyun aimed her foot, sending the pebble flying with full force as a short laugh escaped her. She waited for the satisfying sound of the pebble hitting something hard, but a wail of pain answered her instead.

"Oops," Seohyun grimaced as she motioned the cat to follow her, trying to flee before she was caught. However, luck was rarely on her side.

"It was you, right?" She heard a boyish voice call out. She sneaked a peek, seeing a group of colourful heads belonging to boys that grew larger and larger as more joined them.

"I thought I hit one? Why are there so many..." she muttered, then turned back, bowing her head in a quick apology and turning again to run away, almost tripping on the cat and it howled in pain before following her.

"Hey, stop!" She heard voices, and she just sped up. She had enough to worry about.

"Where are my ghost friends when I need them.." Seohyun muttered under her breath as she sped up, cursing mentally. She could hear steps draw closer by every second, and she finally turned abruptly, making the group of boys stop dead in their tracks, bumping at each other.

"I apologized, what do you all want now?"

"You never apologized," the blue haired one said.

"Why do you think I bowed? To thank you?" Seohyun retorted. The blonde snickered, earning a kick in his ribs from not one but two of them.

"We couldn't see from so far, at least apologize properly!"

"Alright, alright. Was it you who got hit?"

"No, it was-"

Seohyun sighed out loud. "What got you so worked up then, if it wasn't even you?"

"He's my friend?" The blue haired boy said, making it sound more like a question.

"I told you all not to make a fuss, it's not like she did it on purpose," Seohyun heard one of them say, and her eyes shifted towards the boy with black hair, the eyebrow slit further defining his sharp features. Indeed, he was hurt. There was a painful scratch where the pebble must have grazed his cheekbone.

"Ah, so it was you..." Seohyun bit her lip. She thought she should apologize properly, so she bowed properly this time, and got up. "I never meant to hurt anyone. I'm sorry."

His eyes burned holes in her even though she wore sunglasses. He pursed his lips, nodding. "It's okay, just be careful next time."

She nodded. "Can I go now?" She didn't wait for an answer and turned, motioning the cat to come along, who meowed.

"Wait!" The eyebrow-slit boy sat down on one knee, motioning the cat to come to him, who gladly obliged and Seohyun rolled her eyes. He smiled at the cat, rubbing its head and offering it a biscuit, which the cat graciously accepted, munching right into it.

"Do you even give your cat food? It's so thin."

"It's not mine," Seohyun said and the boy's head turned up to look at her, curiosity in his eyes obvious. "It followed you rather gladly."

Seohyun just shrugged, looking away from his gaze and observing the group now. They were all dressed in school uniform like her, but it looked like it was a different school. She internally smiled at the interesting mix that stood in front of her.

"San, let's go," she heard the red-head call out. San, she thought.

"I need to go now too." Seohyun said, waiting for the boy to stop playing with the cat.

The boy- San- got up and said, "You said it's not yours. Can I take it then?"

Seohyun almost said yes, but hesitated. It was true the cat was not hers, but at this point, she could call it hers, the way it always followed her around whenever she was out. She had rather grown attached to the constant presence of her black furry friend.

"Uhh, I mean you could, but..." she bit her lip as she looked back as if for help, and then turned back to the boy. "This cat is my only friend."

Seohyun hated how it had almost come as a whisper, but the boy looked like he understood as he nodded, taking a step back. "I'll see you around then," he smiled sweetly at the cat, who meowed at him.

Seohyun finally turned, not bothering to check if the cat followed her or that boy, San. She was too scared to check. But when she heard the cat meow and rub at her legs, she smiled in relief.

"I'll feed you more now, I promise," she smiled at the cat.

Meanwhile, San watched the odd pair walk away in the distance.

"So rude!" the blue haired boy said, and everyone laughed. San turned and shook his head. "Not my fault you decided to act like my parent, Hongjoong."

"Doesn't look like she's from our school, but isn't it the school near the place we usually go to eat dinner?" The blonde asked.

"Yeah, it looks like it. You're treating us to dinner there tomorrow. You remember, right Yeosang?"

"You're always hungry for food Wooyoung, how could I forget?" He answered.

The group started to walk their way, talking about their plans for dinner, but San couldn't stop thinking about the girl with the grey streaks in her hair, the girl who had no friends other than a black cat. He unconsciously shook his head, finally paying attention to his present.

----------

"I said I'm sorry!" Seohyun yelled, "Now you leave my hair, and I'll leave yours."

"You first," the woman replied.

"Together, okay? One, two, three- YOU! You lied!"

"You lied too!" The woman shouted, and pulled at Seohyun's hair, earning a satisfactory groan from her.

"It's not like you can feel pain! You're a freaking ghost!"

"Doesn't mean I'm not insulted," the woman smirked, "Alright, I'll leave you first, and you leave no more than a second after, otherwise I'll make sure you feel the pain you love." The woman let go of Seohyun's hair and Seohyun did so right after, taking quick steps backward as she massaged her head.

"Bitch..." she muttered, and the woman laughed out loud.

The woman- ghost- had been keeping Seohyun company for about two months now, occasionally popping out of nowhere and leaving just as abruptly. At first, Seohyun had tried to help her in some way, help her move on and come to terms with her sudden death by accident, but the young woman had quite a difficult death and she was the first of a kind- a ghost with amnesia. No memories of how she had died and why she hadn't moved on.

Seohyun had to admit that she had grown used to her presence. She often found herself narrating her uneventful day to her, just like today, when she had excessively complained how useless of a friend she was and how none of her ghost friends had ever done her a favour. Somehow that had turned into an argument and then to them resorting to pulling each other's hair our, except her ghost friend couldn't feel any pain since she was, well, a ghost. Dead.

"I mean," Seohyun continued, fiddling with her hair, "it would have saved me from embarrassment had you popped up and helped me out there."

"What could I have done?" The woman sat down on the pavement, the black cat gladly jumping on her lap as the woman ran her hands through her fur. "It's not like anyone else can see me."

"Hello? You could have made me disappear."

"You know it's not good for your health. Why do it unless absolutely, absolutely necessary?" The woman glared at her.

"YES! That was absolutely, absolutely necessary. There were 8 of them! I was alone!" Seohyun whined and the woman just ignored her.

"Unnie~" Seohyun sat down near her, and the woman slid away from her.

"I told you not to call me that. I have a name, and it's Jiwoo."

"How can I call you by your name? You're much older than me." Seohyun grinned.

"And that's why I don't help you. Because you're a stubborn one. Also, I'm pretty sure I'm not that old."

"That's rich coming from you," Seohyun retorted, ignoring the last remark, "I'm not the one refusing to move on just because I can't get enough of worldly pleasures."

"And that's my cue to leave you alone, like you always are. There's a reason you don't have friends, Seohyun." Jiwoo got up, putting the curled cat on the pavement.

"I do have friends-"

"I'm talking about human friends. Your sharp tongue and stubborn heart, it's about time you change that."

"I-" Before Seohyun could complete, Jiwoo disappeared. Seohyun sighed, her heart sinking a bit at her harsh but true words.

There was indeed a reason that she had no friends. And it wasn't her ability to see ghosts.

Seohyun pulled her knees to her chest, shutting her eyes. She wanted to disappear.

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

Senior year of high school was supposed to be tough, yes, but Seohyun had to face challenges other than academic ones.

And it wasn't just the fact that she had no social life at all; she only had a group of people she could interact with if need be, otherwise she was perfectly content on being on her own. She had no problem staying amused in her own company.

The problem was with Seohyun, though not directly. It was the problem that she could see and interact with some of the dead. And the dead made sure she got in trouble if she didn't hear their woes and skipped school to maybe find them something (or someone) they had an attachment to, or didn't take them to their loved ones immediately.

She had often tried to reason with them; she tried to explain that she was perfectly aware how bad they must have it, but she had it worse since she was still alive, and with life came unforeseen consequences, such as having to face her mother if they caused a scene (which they usually did), or if they tried to grab her attention by any means necessary, such as causing her desk to fall, her stuff to fly (where she would immediately have to either hold it or pretend to have thrown it).

She tried, oh she tried so hard to tell them to wait until she was free from school and then she would do whatever they asked her to, but no. Apparently whatever they wanted to do was more important than her school, her reputation (already in ruins), everything. There rarely was someone patient enough, and those she made sure she looked after properly. Like Jiwoo.

She wished Jiwoo was here so she could get rid of the old wrinkly man in front of her. She was trying to focus on her mathematics but it was hard to when a fat belly blocked her vision. And she couldn't even say anything out loud, so she just sent daggers through her eyes, the message in her eyes clear. But the old man just smirked, continuing to block her vision.

Seohyun sighed and turned the page of her notebook, scribbling in it, then turned the notebook to the ghost in front of her. The man was short so he didn't have to bend as he read what she had written.

"IF YOU COULD STOP PESTERING ME FOR A FEW MINUTES YOU WRINKLY OLD MAN I CAN'T FOCUS ON MATHS BECAUSE OF YOU"

The old man smirked, and Seohyun wished she could kick him somewhere he would surely feel pain even though ghosts couldn't feel pain. She was so absorbed in thinking of ways that she could make this ghost feel pain that she didn't notice him take her notebook and run away before she could snatch it back.

As soon as Seohyun noticed, she jerked in her seat, stopping herself from getting up and following him. He stopped a few feet away, teasingly coming closer and closer, the frown on Seohyun's face getting deeper and deeper until he stopped near the girl sitting in front of her, tore a page from her notebook and gave it back.

And then he did what she dreaded. He made a ball out of that paper, aimed at the teacher, taking one last look at the very satisfying horrified face of the girl who could see ghosts but refused to help them, and threw the paper ball at the teacher with considerable force, hitting him on his head.

The teacher turned, running his eyes across the classroom, not missing how everyone was glancing between the teacher and Seohyun, who folded her arms rather defensively, silently praying he wouldn't actually pick the paper ball. But the teacher bent down, and it so happened that he was also old, and a bit wrinkly, so when he read the scribbled message, his face went red.

"Who was it?!" The teacher pushed his glasses up his nose-bridge and watched as the students hesitantly pointed to Seohyun, who sank deeper into her chair, as if somehow a pit would open and swallow her.

"You meet me in my office after class." The teacher shook his head in disappointment and continued where he left.

Seohyun was given a warning, and it was her second. She had only one left before she would be kicked out of school (if something big happened, which usually did if she waited for the third warning) so she decided it was time for her to move on again.

And this time she dreaded. It was always a hassle to explain to her mom what had happened. Her mom knew she could see ghosts and when she was little, she had tried all sorts of methods, of almost all religions she could think of, hoping her only daughter would turn out normal, but she had failed. But now she liked to pretend that she had forgotten all about it, and when Seohyun told her she had gotten into trouble, she would silently nod and get her to change schools before something big happened and it got written in her school record.

So a few attempts from the old ghost trying to get her in trouble and a few days later, Seohyun was finally free of struggling. She changed schools. And tomorrow would be her first day, hopefully the last time she had to change schools before her senior year ended. Before high school ended.

Seohyun was still dressed in her old school's uniform when she went to her new school to submit her files and make sure everything was good before her first day. She had her baseball cap on this time, making sure she would hide most of her face since a lot of people would be staring at her. It was normal to stare when someone from another school came.

The black cat found her once again, following her as she walked to the building. Seohyun motioned the cat to stay and it obeyed, watching the girl walk into the building.

From a distance, San and his friends were watching the whole scene. They had recognized the girl not by her face, which was half-hidden anyway, but her cat and the grey streaks in her hair.

"Let's hope she doesn't attack you with a pebble again," Yunho snickered, and San smiled, his hand unconsciously going to the now faint scratch on his face.

"I'm not going to your rescue if that happens," Hongjoong said and Seonghwa chimed in, "Neither will I."

"I never asked you anyway..." San trailed off.

"The cat looks like it wants to escape," Jongho pointed his finger at the hoard of girls that gathered around the poor cat. "Poor cat."

"San, you should go bring the cat. It would recognize you," Mingi suggested and San considered. The cat was worth saving.

A few moments later, San was back with the cat in his arms. The cat did recognize him. He bought the cat to the boys, who lightly patted her one by one, taking turns so she wouldn't feel scared.

After about five minutes, the boys heard someone clear their throat right behind them. They turned to see it was that girl.

"Aren't you the same group from that day?" Seohyun wondered out loud.

"The cat was scared because people were gathering around her, so we brought her here," Yeosang said.

"That's... kind of you," Seohyun met eyes with each of them, and the boys got a proper look at her face for the first time without her glasses. She had light eyes. The shadows beneath her eyes were dark, which contrasted with her eyes rather strikingly.

"What were you doing here? You're not from our school," Wooyoung commented.

"Oh, I'll be joining from tomorrow..." Seohyun realized somehow she's ended up in the same school as the boys. "What class are you in?"

"Senior year, all of us," Wooyoung replied, and they didn't miss her groan.

"I'm guessing you're senior year too," Seonghwa asked, earning a nod of confirmation.

"How ironic. What if you end up in our class?" Yeosang wondered.

"God forbid," Seohyun shook her head, making them smile despite her remark. "Now, should I leave the cat here, or..."

"Does it have a name?" San asked, rubbing under the cat's chin.

"Uh, no actually," Seohyun faltered when she saw San give her a disappointed look, "I just call her kitty. You can give it a name if you want to."

"I'll think about it," San shifted his arms to hand the cat over to Seohyun, and she took it, placing the cat on her shoulders, waiting until she sat around her neck like she usually did.

"I guess I'll go now," she met eyes with San for the last time, noticing the mole on his eyelid. San nodded, and she muttered an awkward bye before walking past them, cursing at herself mentally for being so awkward with them.

"It's you who got me in trouble, you dumb cat," she muttered under her breath. The cat didn't even bother reply.

The boys watched her leave, and Yeosang finally spoke, "I have a feeling she'll be in our class now. Oh, how the tables have turned."

"Interesting," Jongho smiled, "Does San have a new friend now?"

"The cat? Sure." San smirked.

"Ah, let's see how that changes," Jongho retorted, smirking back.

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

Seohyun tried to calm her nerves as she looked at herself in the mirror of the girls' toilet in her new school.

The nerves always got the better of her whenever it was her first day at a school. It usually took her about three days to get comfortable with a new environment. Seohyun sighed as she wiped her sweaty palms on her black skirt, staring at her light brown eyes. She wished she could cover them with her sunglasses so she could avoid the excessive eye contact with humans and ghosts. Sadly, she couldn't do that in class.

She finally took a deep breath and somehow managed to make herself walk to the office, where she met her homeroom teacher, a middle-aged woman. She walked along with her to her class, and the teacher smiled warmly at her as she nudged her to come along.

They entered the class and watched as the boys and girls went back to sit at their seats, the room slowly falling silent. The teacher cleared her throat.

"Good morning class, we have a new student today. Please introduce yourself."

Seohyun, who had been looking down the entire time, finally gathered whatever courage she had and ran her eyes along the class as she finally spoke.

"Good morning, I am Lee Seohyun. I hope we can get along well."

"Alright, why don't you find yourself a seat?" The teacher said and Seohyun nodded, looking at the few empty seats and considering her choices.

Her first priority was to sit as far away as possible. Preferably by the window. There was one empty seat in the furthest row, but it was next to the seat by the window already occupied by someone-

It was one of those boys. She only knew San's name for now, and it was the blonde one. She quickly scanned her other options and decided this was the best for now.

As she made her way, she realized the 8 of them were all sitting around the empty seat that she was about to sit on. San was in front of her, the strawberry blonde on her other side, the rest around them too. She wondered if the seat belonged to one of their friends so she quietly asked the blonde, "Is this seat free?"

He shook his head and she internally sighed in relief as she settled herself, focusing on whatever the homeroom teacher said, trying not to stare holes at the back of San's head, until she left a few minutes later and she slumped back in her chair.

San finally turned, raising his brows, "What a coincidence."

Seohyun shrugged, straightening her skirt. "Ironic, really."

"Is there a reason you changed schools?" The blonde turned towards her, resting his head on his hand as he looked at her curiously.

"Uh," Seohyun hesitated as she tried to recall her excuse for every time someone asked her this, "for convenience. It's closer to home."

"That's an interesting reason to change school," he replied, earning a shrug.

"Maybe she doesn't want to tell you why exactly. Am I right?" San locked eyes with her, his smirk growing.

"Maybe," Seohyun teased back.

"How's your cat?" She heard someone call, and she looked at the black haired boy.

"It's not exactly mine, but it's fine. Probably."

"That's... reassuring. I'm Wooyoung by the way. This is Yeosang-" he pointed to the blonde next to her, "San, and that's Yunho next to you."

She looked at Yunho and he waved shyly. "That's Seonghwa," he pointed in front of him, and when Seohyun nodded, he continued, "The blueberry is Hongjoong, the red one is Jongho, and that's Mingi over there."

Seohyun nodded slowly, looking at them all slowly. "Yunho, Seonghwa, Hongjoong blueberry,-"

"I heard that!" Hongjoong shouted, turning around and making a pout at Seonghwa. Ignoring him, she continued, "San, Jongho in the front, then Mingi beside him, Wooyoung and Yeosang. I got it."

"You're quick," Yunho grinned. Seohyun wished she could tell him that it was because of the several hundred ghosts she had met and had promised never to forget their names.

"So the 8 of you are friends?" She asked, and San nodded. "Why was this seat in the middle empty then?"

"Mingi used to sit here but his eyesight got worse so he moved to the front."

"Well, that explains..."

Their teacher walked in, a man in his 30s, and she found out he was to be her math teacher. At least he's not old and wrinkly, she thought as she took out her notebook.

---------

The rest of her day was uneventful, except for the break when the boys asked if she wanted to join them but she didn't. She said she had to go to the office, but that was a lie. She wanted to take a breather.

When they left, she looked again at her options. She was already regretting sitting among the group of friends. She was going to be a disturbance to them, or something even worse. She didn't want them to think she was weird. Not yet.

She surprised herself at the thought. Why did she care? She had never cared before. But she told herself it was probably because she had a few encounters with them before and it would be weirder if they found out now. That she was strange. They'd probably stop talking to her very suddenly. That part always hurt her, which was why she always avoided making friends.

Seohyun shook her head and looked at the empty seat in the middle of the room. The spot was out of question. Being in the middle of the room meant she could be surprised from anywhere by those damned ghosts.

Then there was one in the very front with the wall. She could go there, but...

She felt more comfortable here. The spot was perfect. The problem was the boys. They were in for disappointment.

She saw some girls staring at her. They were probably considering if they should talk and make friends with her. But Seohyun was in no mood for friends, so she just put her head on the desk and closed her eyes.

She almost drifted to sleep when she heard someone put something on her desk. She got up and saw that it was San. "We figured you didn't have time for lunch, so."

Seohyun looked from the bread and juice to San, and back at the food presented to her. "Thank you, that's uh... very kind of you?" She looked at San and Yeosang, and they laughed shamelessly at her.

"You don't sound so happy," Yeosang commented and she shook her head, sipping at the juice to prove her point as she said, "No, actually I'm glad, but it wasn't necessary."

They just shook her head at her, smiling as they absorbed themselves in some discussion. Seohyun silently ate the bread, wishing she could disappear because she didn't even know how to thank people properly.

At that moment, Jiwoo the ghost appeared, and Seohyun muttered, "About freaking time."

Jiwoo laughed and said, "I see you're having a good day."

"And I don't expect you to ruin it, so please live up to my expectations for once," Seohyun hissed, keeping her voice as low as possible, but it still made Seonghwa look at her once before he focused back on his friends.

Seohyun sighed. She couldn't write in her notebook now because they would definitely see it. And she couldn't talk. So she just folded her arms as she slowly sipped on the juice while Jiwoo danced around the classroom.

As soon as the bell rang indicating the end of the day, Seohyun sighed in relief. The day was over without any incident. She slowly packed her bag, thinking about her promise to meet a new ghost after her school. It was a girl about her age, and thankfully she understood what school demanded of her, so she had promised to not disturb her.

"You look ready to go to your bed and fall right asleep," Yeosang commented.

"Tell me about it," Seohyun muttered, wearing her bag and making her way out of the class, the boys not far behind.

San watched Seohyun walk as if she was in a hurry but couldn't care less at the same time. She would speed up, then slow down again, and repeat.

"Are you in a hurry?" Wooyoung asked her, falling in step with her.

"Uh, not really. Just can't wait to get home," she said, but her voice didn't match what she said. She sounded the least excited to do that.

"Long day, huh?" Wooyoung said and she finally passed him a smile. "So you know no one at this school?"

"Well," she said, "I am new."

"Well, you can be our friend. Only if you want to."

She stopped in her track, making San almost bump in her, and she muttered a sorry to him as she continued walking again. San decided he would join them now.

"Something wrong?" he asked.

"Not sure you'd like me as a friend."

"And why do you think that?" San looked at her curiously.

Seohyun sighed, "I'm... how do I put it? I don't think I need friends. But that sounds rude. I don't mean to sound rude, it's just... better if you all don't mind me. I'd only be a bother and make everyone uncomfortable."

"We don't mind. We weren't all friends from the beginning. The group grew larger with time."

"And why do you think you don't need friends?" San asked.

Seohyun looked at him, then looked away, trying to avoid his steel gaze. "Not the type of person anyone would like as a friend."

"We won't know until we try though," Wooyoung said and smiled at her, making Seohyun wonder why the world didn't have more Wooyoungs.

"No harm in trying, right?" Yunho, who was behind her, vouched in.

Seohyun stopped to look at the odd group of friends, who were all smiling cheekily.

"You sure, blueberry?" She asked Hongjoong, who gasped in surprise. Yunho laughed out loud.

"If you don't call me blueberry, then why not?"

"Blueberry." Seohyun said and turned to walk away, hearing everyone laugh and make fun of Hongjoong. She saw the familiar figure of the ghost she had decided to meet, and she motioned with her eyes to turn to their left.

The ghost understood and it waited for her to turn left too. Seohyun looked back once at the boys who were now a good few steps behind, and she turned left, hoping no one had seen her, saw the empty road and joined hands with the ghost. She felt the familiar feeling of her heart sinking and her stomach flipping as the ghost teleported her to where it wanted to go.

The boys, who did notice her turning left in a hurry, followed soon after, only to find a very empty road with no where she could have gone or hidden.

"She did turn left. Right?" Mingi asked.

"She did. Didn't she? Or am I losing it finally?" Jongho muttered.

"Maybe it wasn't her?" Wooyoung suggested.

"But it was her. The grey in her hair..." Yunho said. "Maybe she turned right?" He looked at his right, where a few students were walking too.

San had been watching her and he was very sure she had turned left. Where she had gone... was a mystery.

"Strange..."

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

"That's... horrible."

Seohyun stood in front of a small house, the white walls glaring back at her. The ghost, a young girl only her age, had just teleported her to an empty alley near this house, which belonged to her best friend. The ghost had just finished telling her how she had died; a road accident by a drunk driver. Since she had died an untimely death, she couldn't do anything about it except mourn over her own death.

"But... people who die in such accidents usually like to make sure justice is served, and get the perpetrator punished. Don't you wanna do that?"

"Oh, I did," the girl pushed her long black hair back, "my parents are doing a good job there, so I wanna let them continue. I don't... want them to know that I'm still here. They should find their peace with all this."

"Wow," Seohyun couldn't help but be amazed at how thoughtful this girl was, "that's very wise of you actually. So what are we doing here?"

"I checked on my friend, Chaeyoung, and it seems like she's not... doing well. I want to somehow let her know that I'm okay. I think that's when I'll be able to move on."

Seohyun, for once, felt actually sorry for the friend. She didn't have a best friend so she couldn't relate, but having someone like that in your life and so suddenly losing them... must be very sad.

"Okay, let's do this," Seohyun said, taking a deep breath and taking off her baseball cap off. She smoothened her uniform and finally rang the bell.

"What if someone else is home, and she creates a ruckus-"

"I checked, she's alone for now." The girl said, and again, she mentally applauded the girl for being so thoughtful.

"Hey, what was your name again? I mean how do I introduce-"

At that moment, a tall girl sporting a bob and puffy eyes fresh from crying opened the door.

"Hi," Seohyun said.

"Do I know you?" Chaeyeong asked.

"You don't, but I'm here to talk to you. I heard your friend recently passed away-" Seohyun paused when Chaeyoung rolled her eyes and attempted to shut the door at her face.

"Wait!" Seohyun said and Chaeyoung paused.

"My name is Soojin." The ghost finally said, and Seohyun looked at her once, catching her nervous stance before turning back to Chaeyoung.

"You might not believe it, but Soojin is here," Seohyun said, and Chaeyoung pursed her lips. "And I don't have all day, so I'll just prove it. Soojin told me some stuff only the two of you would know. How you had a crush on her brother for the longest time, how you want to meet your childhood best friend who's moved to the States, how-"

"Wait," Chaeyoung stepped out, "How- when did Soojin tell you this? Are you Soojin's friend?"

"My name is Seohyun. and I'm sure you've never heard of me from Soojin," Chaeyoung nodded and Seohyun continued, "Soojin is here. She hasn't been able to move on to the afterlife or whatever it is ahead because she can't stand seeing you in pain and blaming yourself because you invited her over to meet with you. She wants you to know that her parents are doing a great job at making sure the drunk driver gets punished, and she wants you to know it's not your fault."

Seohyun watched Chaeyoung's eyes fill with tears at that, and she put a hand in front of her mouth as tears fell, "She's really here?"

"Right here," Seohyun pointed towards where Soojin stood.

"Can't I see her?" Chaeyoung asked, "I want to see her one last time. If I can."

"I'm afraid not," Seohyun sighed, "I don't know if that's possible. But she can see you and hear you right now, just like me. So I'll leave you to say your last goodbye. You can call me when you're done, okay Soojin?"

Soojin nodded and Seohyun went into the little garden in the house to give them some space. She watched as Chaeyoung cried and spoke to her best friend for the last time, falling to her knees. Soojin couldn't touch her, but she patted her head and it was like Chaeyoung could actually feel it.

Seohyun looked up at the cloudy sky. For once, she wished it was sunnier.

After a few minutes, Soojin called out to Seohyun. She awkwardly patted Chaeyoung on the back, and Soojin started speaking as Seohyun told Chaeyoung that Soojin loved her, and yes, it was her who kept sticking their photo back at the wall to give her a sign, and she wanted Chaeyoung to stop talking to the walls because she won't be there to listen to her anymore and that would only make her look crazy (at which Chaeyoung laughed).

"I don't have a best friend, but you guys, you both had something special. And I'm saying this from my self, that I hope you cherish the bond you both had in your heart and really move on. Do what you want to, because life is short," Seohyun said and smiled.

"Thank you. I'll do my best," Chaeyoung wiped the last of her tears.

"She's going now," Seohyun said, "She wants you to smile so that's the last thing she sees."

Chaeyoung smiled as tears fell from her eyes, and Soojin said, "This fool. I told her to smile."

"Stop being so petty, Soojin, she is smiling!"

"What did she say?" Chaeyoung asked.

"She said she asked you to smile, not cry," Seohyun said and Chaeyoung burst out laughing.

Soojin thanked Seohyun for helping her, and she watched as she shut her eyes, and disappeared in an instant.

Seohyun sighed, and Chaeyoung understood. "Thank you, Seohyun. I hope we can meet again?"

"Oh, you don't have to do that," Seohyun shook her head, "I just hope you'll have a good life ahead."

"I feel bad for not doing anything for you, maybe I could take you for some coffee next time?"

"Well, actually," Seohyun looked around, "there is something you can do. Can you tell me where I am? And can you call me a taxi?"

-----------

It turned out Seohyun was actually quite a while from home, so Chaeyoung ended up paying for the taxi because she felt bad for Soojin being so thoughtless when she teleported her here (at which Seohyun admitted Soojin was one of the wisest ghosts she had encountered). About 40 minutes later, Seohyun decided to drop by at a food street, because she was starving.

Seohyun walked through the hustling street, various food carts lining the street, several restaurants and cafes amidst them. She decided jjajangmyeon would do, so she sat alone at the table in the street, waiting for her meal. She was too tired to look at her phone so she just watched the people walking and eating.

She wished Jiwoo was here. Better than having no company. She wouldn't admit it, but she had grown quite used to her company. Jiwoo still hadn't been able to recall her memories of who she was and how she died, and why she was still hanging around. So Seohyun had left her at it.

Seohyun was so lost thinking about Jiwoo that she didn't notice Seonghwa, Hongjoong and Mingi approaching her until they stopped right in front of her.

"Of all the places," Seohyun wondered out loud, not caring how it might sound to them.

"It seems like we were meant to meet today," Mingi said dramatically, and Hongjoong slapped his arm as he said, "It looks like you haven't gone home yet. Isn't it very late?"

Seohyun sat back in her chair, putting one leg on top of the other. "And what do you care?"

"Ah, so that's what you meant when you said people don't like to have you as a friend," Hongjoong said, and Seonghwa gasped at his friend as he scolded him, but stopped when Seohyun laughed out loud.

"Since you're here, are you gonna take a seat or will you be continuing to walk aimlessly?"

"I guess we'll take a seat," Mingi said, and they all sat and decided to order food first.

"Aren't you cold?" Seonghwa asked, as he noticed how Seohyun put her bag on her bare legs.

"I am. But I'm okay," she said, and Seonghwa shook his head as he started to take off his jacket. "Oh please, I'm okay, I'll feel really bad if you do this."

"Nonsense, this is an extra layer anyway," Seonghwa handed her the jacket and she realized it was true; he did have many layers on him. So Seohyun put his jacket on her legs, muttering a thank you.

"So what's your story?" Hongjoong asked, and Seohyun raised her brows as she said, "You first. I'll talk after I have some food."

"Alright then," Hongjoong said, and told her how they all had been classmates since elementary, with Seonghwa and Hongjoong being friends since that time, until Wooyoung and Yeosang who had also been friends joined, then one by one the group grew.

"Interesting," Seohyun said, "And the 8 of you... How do you get along peacefully? I can't even get along with one."

Mingi pfft-ed at her. "We aren't exactly saints ourselves, but with us being 8, it becomes hard to take anyone serious."

Seohyun scoffed, "So the reason you all get along so well is because you all don't take anyone serious."

"Basically, yes," Mingi answered proudly, and food was served. Seohyun hungrily dig in, and Seonghwa scolded her for eating so quick.

"So with Seonghwa as a mother figure of the group," Seohyun began, "I can imagine why there is peace among all of you."

"Ha. ha. Very funny," Seonghwa rolled his eyes but Hongjoong and Mingi laughed, agreeing with her as they said, "She's not wrong."

She watched them bicker back and forth and wondered if this could really work out. They seemed very tightly knit, and she felt like an intruder. She wasn't even sure if they would feel comfortable with her. Why had they even asked her to be their friend?

"It really does show. That you've been friends for a long time," Seohyun commented, fiddling with her noodles.

"It does, huh?" Mingi smiled at her.

"Can I ask you something?" Seohyun said, and they nodded, "Why did you ask me to be your friend? I mean, you guys look okay as you are now. You don't need an extra friend in this group of yours. So why ask, and why me?"

"Well, how do I put it..." Hongjoong wondered out loud.

"You've got good aim," Mingi said, and for a second, Seohyun was lost before she realized.

"I didn't do that on purpose!" Seohyun's eyes were wide, and Mingi told her that he, of course, was joking, But he winked right after, which made her wonder if that was actually one of the reasons.

"Our group needs a girl. There are too many boys." Seonghwa said, and Seohyun raised an eyebrow.

"I'm sure there's no lack of girls in your school."

"There isn't... but they are too... girly?" Hongjoong seemed to think how to put it, and Seohyun folded her arms.

"And what if I am girly too?" Seohyun countered.

"You're just the right amount of weird. Yeosang already clicked so well with you. San loves your cat. You sit in the middle of us. You have no friends. Now you can't avoid it."

"Wow, okay," Seohyun finished her noodles as she thought about what they had said. "And what if... we don't get along?" Seohyun asked.

"We're not exactly forcing you, are we?" Hongjoong asked and she nodded, "If you like to stay alone, then fine. But Wooyoung, it was his idea. And he really knows when a person needs a friend."

"Oh," Seohyun realized what he meant. She looked like she needed friends.

"Plus, we do get along well, don't you think?" Mingi smiled.

"Well, what can I say, except that you'll find me really weird. And okay, I can try. But one day, you're gonna wonder why you even thought we could be friends. You'll wish you'd never asked me."

The three of them stared at her. Seohyun stared back and once again, the three of them burst out laughing.

"We're already regretting. Was it so hard to make friends, Hongjoong?" Mingi asked.

"I don't even remember. Wow."

Seohyun couldn't help but laugh as she thought how it was gonna be. It was true. No one took anything serious.

Maybe they'll never find out about her ghost problems then.

Or maybe they'll never believe her.

----------

94 notes · View notes

coldmorte · 3 years

Note

bro i'm a sucker for soft Vandermorgan....dutch reading while arthur sketches.....leaning on eachother.....dutch reaching over to rub arthur's back every few pages........running his hand through arthur's hair...soft k*sses and giggling...

Howdy, anon! 💜

My apologies that it took me a week to get back to this one. I gave time to consider it, and I hope the fic I wrote in response makes up for that!! It’s a very cute ask, and I love tenderness between them, too. But despite my affection for lighthearted stuff, I usually struggle with writing it (I’m a very dark and morbid person - oops 😅). Anyway, I’ve been getting quite a few soft VDM asks lately, so I figured I would accept another challenge!

I was hesitant about actually posting this, but I figured, what is there to lose? It does have some angst sprinkled in (I couldn’t help myself), but I hope I did your idea justice!!!

Oh, and to anybody else who sent VDM asks recently, I am still giving them some thought! So, stay tuned 😉

In the meantime, please enjoy…❤️🖤

“Why are you avoiding me, Arthur?”

Hand freezing and pencil ceasing its scratching within the journal on his lap, Arthur furrowed his brow as he peaked over the fire at Dutch. Yet, his eyes remained wide and questioning as he pushed back, “I’m not avoiding you. I just didn’t think you wanted to be bothered while you read.”

“Oh, come on. You know I never minded it in the past, especially not on a cold night like this. We could use all the heat we can spare between us,” Dutch flipped his book shut, patting the ground beside him.

Likewise, Arthur slid the bookmark of his journal in place as he closed it. “Well, I guess… it’s just…”

Dutch chuckled as he noticed Arthur bite his lip to suppress a timid smile. He gestured to Arthur, beckoning him over once again. “I know it’s been a long time since it’s been just the two of us, but you don’t have to be shy.”

“Alright,” Arthur agreed as he pushed himself to his feet, journal still clutched in one hand. He walked over and knelt next to Dutch, but before he could properly get seated, Dutch reached forward and grasped him by his shirt collars. Pressing Arthur’s back to his bedroll, Dutch pinned him there as he straddled his hips.

The journal got cast aside as Arthur grabbed at Dutch’s back. Their lips met, hungrily and impassioned. Dutch pressed his chest firmer against Arthur’s and moaned at the warmth that radiated between them. He pulled back and grinned down at Arthur through heavily-lidded eyes, “See, isn’t it better on this side?”

“I was afraid this might happen,” Arthur laughed as he reached a hand forward and brushed some loose curls away from Dutch’s face.

Emitting a soft hum, Dutch felt himself glow with a warm, fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach. Leaning in close once more, he whispered, “And are you complaining?”

“Never.” Arthur pulled Dutch in for another kiss, before Dutch backed away and sat up.

“I didn’t think so.” Dutch smirked as he reached for his wool blanket and unfolded it. Motioning for Arthur to sit up as well, he handed him a corner. They each wrapped part of it around themselves as they huddled close to the fire.

Arthur scooped his journal up and leaned against Dutch, his back pressed into the older man’s arm and shoulder for support. He reopened the journal on his lap, but his position hid his face and the journal’s contents from Dutch as he returned to sketching.

Attempting to peer over Arthur’s shoulder to no avail, Dutch asked, “What are you working on?”

“What are you reading?” Arthur shot back.

Dutch felt his heart briefly flutter. He couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice as he responded, “Since when do you care about what I read?”

When Arthur gave no response, Dutch slipped one hand around Arthur’s chest, hugging him and pulling him tighter. Gradually, he let his hand glide lower, until it reached the top of Arthur’s pants. Tugging at the shirt tucked in there, Dutch moved it out of the way and slipped his cold fingers inside. Arthur jumped at the sudden intrusion and gave a shriek, “AHH! Dutch! Your hand is freezing!”

Nuzzling his nose against the back of Arthur’s neck, Dutch pressed a soft kiss there. His lips grazed the sensitive flesh as he muttered, “Why are you being so difficult tonight, my boy?”

“Too bad you just ruined any chance of seeing my sketch.” Arthur’s voice had a teasing edge, but it was lighthearted. “Read to me, first. I always liked listening to your voice.”

At that statement, Dutch pulled his hand away from Arthur’s warm skin but still kept it wrapped around him as he moved his head back in surprise. His mouth hung slightly agape at the boldness in Arthur’s tone, though he felt the corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. “So, that’s how you want to play this game… fine.”

Picking his book up in his free hand, Dutch opened it in his lap and scanned the pages. Arthur continued to sketch as Dutch’s other hand rubbed small circles over his chest.

Landing on a passage that caught his eye, Dutch began to read, “‘But whether the resistance against tyrants is non-violent or physically violent, the overarching efforts to overthrow oppression justifies the means.’ What do you think of that, Arthur?”

“It’s very nice, Dutch.”

“‘Nice?’ That’s the word you’d use to describe it?” Dutch protested, though he affectionately wrapped his arm tighter around Arthur as he did so. He flipped through the pages for a few more moments of silence before his eyes landed on another. “Well, how about this one? ‘The whole point of America is freedom. Freedom of thought, freedom of deed, freedom of action.’”

Letting out a sigh, Arthur tilted his head back so he could look at Dutch. Their faces were close - mere inches apart - as Arthur spoke, just barely above a whisper, “Does it always have to be about politics, Dutch? Some greater good? I thought we came out here to escape all that.”

Dutch wanted to argue and explain how important Evelyn Miller’s writings were to their mission as a gang and their survival. But he knew Arthur was right. This was their moment to share, and it wasn’t any use wasting it on philosophical debates. Those could wait.

Tipping his head forward, Dutch pressed a chaste kiss to Arthur’s lips and nodded as he pulled away. “Okay.”

Arthur smiled at him as he turned his head back towards his journal and continued to work. Looking back at his book, Dutch searched for a different passage to read. Though most of the ones he noted were about ideological teachings, he did finally settle on one that made his eyes narrow and lips tighten in consideration.

Taking a breath, Dutch traced the words with his finger as he read aloud, “‘Say what you have to say, not what you ought. Any truth is better than make-believe.’”

Arthur did not say anything in response, though Dutch felt his hand stop drawing, as if Arthur was thinking about it. Dutch could feel the steady beat of Arthur’s heart as he gently massaged his chest.

Eventually, Dutch buried his face in Arthur’s blond hair as he asked, “Hmm, was that better?”

Arthur flipped his journal shut in his lap and rocked lightly into Dutch as he muttered, “You know I was never much good with words.”

“Oh, son… and you know that I wish you wouldn’t downplay yourself like this.” Dutch squeezed Arthur’s breast as he cradled him closer. “You speak from the heart, that’s what matters most... same goes for when you draw in that journal of yours.”

At that, Arthur bent his head down towards the journal in his lap. He tied the leather flap and slid the pencil in place underneath it. Lifting the journal, he set it in front of where the two of them were seated and pushed it forward. It was like a silent invitation, placed just out of reach.

Adjusting his position, Arthur turned around so he could lean his chest against Dutch as he wound both of his arms around the older man’s waist. He buried his head in the crook of Dutch’s neck, and Dutch couldn’t suppress a shiver as Arthur’s warm breath vibrated across the bare flesh at his collar when he spoke, “Thank you for reading to me. ‘M getting tired…”

“Rest up, it’s been a long day.” Dutch set his own book aside so he could readjust himself and wrap his arms around Arthur’s back. He rubbed soothing circles as he rested his chin atop Arthur’s head and watched the flickering glow of the fire.

This was real.

This wasn’t make-believe, or some long-lost memory. Arthur’s steady breathing and the warmth of his flesh confirmed that fact. Dutch let his eyes flicker shut in thought as he was once again reminded of how right Arthur was.

At the end of the day, all those fancy words in his books and his own philosophizing would be meaningless without Arthur by his side.

Dutch furrowed his brow as he blinked his eyes open. Biting his lip, he took a sharp breath and paused. He hesitated to say the words on the tip of his tongue, but he released a long exhale as he tightened his grip on his boy.

He felt safe here.

“You know, Arthur… you’re right. This life of crime, even I sometimes wonder where it all ends, or if it even ends at all. I try to do what’s best, I really do. I know I talk a lot about loyalty and how important it is to keep faith, but these moments when I’m alone with you….” Dutch let his voice trail off. Even amidst his own speaking, he couldn’t fail to notice the light snore coming from Arthur’s lips.

But rather than feeling anger or frustration, Dutch merely smiled. In a way, it was a relief. Arthur couldn’t hear him, and if he could, he would never remember Dutch’s words come morning. Somehow, it was easier this way. Whatever he said aloud, he knew he wouldn’t have to prove or justify it to anybody. He could speak from the heart.

The truth.

“I don’t know how I could ever go on without you. Please, don’t ever let go…”

At that, Dutch squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath. He focused on the way Arthur maintained a tight grip around his waist, despite his steady snores. The words weren’t meant to be literal, but for the moment, Dutch could allow himself to believe it was possible both physically and figuratively.

Dutch blinked the dampness away from his eyelashes as he looked back towards the fire. The journal was still sitting there, illuminated by the orange glow. Shifting on the ground, Dutch lifted his head away from Arthur and peered down at him. He seemed unbothered by the movements, so Dutch decided to push it further. Unwrapping one arm from around Arthur’s back, Dutch leaned slowly forward, until his fingertips were just able to land on the journal’s leather cover.

Pulling the book towards him, Dutch was able to pick it up in one hand and place it in his lap. He briefly feared the action disturbed Arthur, for he whined and pressed his face harder against Dutch’s shoulder. However, his heavy breathing continued, and Dutch proceeded to slide the journal’s strap out of its place. Holding the pencil in his hand, Dutch turned to the bookmark at the back.

There, he found a sketch of two animals - a buck and a wolf. Despite serving contrasting roles in the wild, they looked perfectly at ease within the sketch. They curled around each other as they laid down to rest, their noses nearly touching. The way they huddled together made it seem believable that they really could find harmony, regardless of their true natures.

On the opposite page, a message was written, “‘Couldn’t resist, could you?’”

Dutch chuckled, Was he really that predictable?

Using the pencil, he scrawled his own note underneath, “‘It’s no use trying to fight who we really are.’”

Taking one last look at the sketch, Dutch ran a finger over it. Just as he could speak in metaphorical language, Arthur could draw in it. But the meanings underneath it all remained the same.

Just because it wasn’t literal, that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth.

Closing the journal and placing it back where he found it, Dutch kept a firm hold on Arthur as he pulled the both of them down to lay on his bedroll. Adjusting the blanket, Dutch made sure it was draped snugly over them as Arthur soundlessly snuggled his face against Dutch’s chest and hugged him tighter. Once Dutch was comfortable, he likewise wrapped his arms around Arthur, one holding him by the small of his back and the other rumpling his hair.

Feeling tired as well, Dutch shut his eyes. With his final words for the night, Dutch thought of what he just wrote in the journal as they held each other close. Continuing along the same line of thought, he whispered, “We just gotta embrace it.”

55 notes · View notes

amphxtrite · 4 years

Text

george weasley x fem!reader

part two: our future together

warnings: swearing, spelling/ grammar mistakes.

summary: George falls head over heels for the reader at Quidditch try-outs.

word count: 2.2k

enjoy <3

___________________________________

Ah Quidditch, one of George’s favourite activities, other than pranking. The feeling of cool wind blowing against his face and the rush of adrenaline he gets hitting bludgers, and flying across the stadium at full speed makes him feel on top of the world. He’s adored the sport every since he was just a little kid watching in envy as his older brothers and his dad flew around throwing quaffles, catching snitches and, his favourite, hitting bludgers. He’d always dreamed of being to play real quidditch, not just the scrimmages at home, so when Fred suggested they try out for the gryffindor team in second year, he jumped on it. George smiles at the memory of their first try-out, they’d dusted any other kid in the beaters department and since then always have. Fred laughing loudly brings George out of thought.

It’s the start of a new year, which means try- outs again. George tries not to worry about it, he’s been on the team for years now, what could go wrong? He tries to focus on how excited he is to get back on the Hogwarts Pitch, but his anxiousness is shown, he’s tapping his foot and figeting with his bag string. “Let’s get a move on Fred, we’re going to be late!” He starts to drag Fred out the door of the gryffindor common room. “Alright, alright! Just quit your pestering.” Fred sighs, rolling his eyes and stuffing a dungbomb he was poking at back into his bag. “I don’t understand what’s got you in such a worry.” Fred starts. “We’ve been on the quidditch team for the past three years, we’ve got this!” The older twin smiles, patting George on the shoulder, “I know, but who knows who’s going to try out this year, what if there’s someone bloody amazing.” George says nervous. “Can’t be better than us, eh?” Fred smiles back. George manages a weak grin.

The twins make their way into the changeroom and get into more suitable clothing, swapping out their uniforms and ties, for their quidditch jerseys, and shin guards. Grabbing their brooms, they make their way onto the pitch and are greeted by their captain, Oliver Wood. “Hello lads.” He greets with his usual heavy Scottish accent. “How’s it going Oliver?” The twins answer back in sync. “Not bad, just excited to start try-outs, you guys have got competition this year!”Olliver laughs pointing over to a small group of gryffindors huddled together. “Well I guess we’ll just have to show em who’s boss, right Freddie?” George nudges his twin. “Right on George.” Fred answers back smugly.

The try out begins with a couple laps around the pitch, so Olliver can start to pick off those he sees unfit. Fred and George decide to have some fun looping around people and pestering their friends. “Heya, Harry how's it going?” George smiles at the blue-eyed brunette, while flying upside down above him, Harry flashes a smile and rolls his eyes at the twins' antics before making small talk with the red-head.

Oliver finally calls everyone back down and starts each round of try-outs starting with chasers, he and Fred began to cheer on Angelina, Katie and all their fellow gryffindors, feeling pride watching his classmates play.

George starts to grow nervous as the try-outs for the beaters roll around, he figits with his broom as Oliver begins to call them out in twos. “Alright let's have y/n and Finnick go first!” Oliver motions for two people. George sees a tall, skinny boy walk out first, sizing him up, he turns to Fred and shrugs slightly before turning back to look at whoever y/n was. His breath catches in his throat. You were stunning. He watches you in shock as you climb onto your broom with a bat and push off, taking a moment to admire the way your h/c hair blew in the wind and the look of excitement plastered on your face as you flew around, your e/c eyes seemed to shine like diamonds in the sunlight. How did he not notice you before? “Blimey.” George whispered out watching you race back and forth hitting bludgers back with such elegance and force. He had a dopey grin stuck on his face as he watched the way your eyebrows scrunched together when you spotted a bludger and how you retaliated quickly after a not-so-good hit. You were perfect. “Freddie…” he turned to his twin next to him. “I think I’m in love.” He concluded a blush littering his freckled cheeks. Fred eyes widen and his brows shoot up, looking back towards the pitch, he’s in time to see you landing back down, a huge smile plastered on your face as you pant slightly, giving a high-five to your partner. Fred looks back towards his twin “y/n?” Fred questions, George nods, still gazing at you, stuck in a daze, as you take a sip from your water bottle and spoke to Angelina. “Mate, that’s Angie’s best friend, she’s going to rip you to shreds!” Fred laughs. “Really?” George questions, he tries to think back to if he’s ever seen you before, but draws a blank every time. “How come I’ve never seen her before?” George asks, his eyebrows knitting together in a confused expression. “Well you’re pretty bloody clueless for one.” Fred smirks and continues, “You know, she goes to games a lot to cheer on the team, you probably haven’t noticed cuz you’ve got your head so far stuck in the game.” Fred laughs loudly. “She’s also in the year below us so that explains why she’s not in any of our classes.” Fred finishes explaining, rolling his eyes as he watches his twin’s love-struck expression.

“Weasleys’ you’re up!” Oliver shouts. The twins shoot up immediately, walk over and quickly ascend into the sky. “Alright George it’s go-time so put your goo-goo eyes away, alright?” Fred warns. George blushes bashfully, sneaking a glance down at you one last time, he almost has a heart attack when he sees you looking back at him, cheering him on with Angelina. He musters a smirk and decides to show off a little. Oliver releases the bludgers and George grips the bat a little tighter, he lets his usual competitive nature consume him and he flawlessly hits back the incoming bludgers with a strength only to be rivaled by his own twin. Flying back and forth down the pitch, doing loops and laughing, he looks back at you again after hitting the bludger several yards back and sees a look of amazement cross your eyes, your lips slightly parted in shock at the sheer talent of the twins. George’s smile goes even wider and taking a chance he shoots you his signature wink and speeds back into the game. Praying that he’d gotten the reaction he wanted.

Back down on the ground, you watch in awe as the Weasley twins loop around, hitting bludgers and laughing their heads off, you could kiss being a beater goodbye when the twins were this good. Your focus was mainly on George, his loops and turns were just so amazing and the ways his arm flexed made you blush. Continuing to watch him, he makes eye-contact with you and winks, before swinging his bat again, You smile and feel your heart swell. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Angelina, who comments on the small interaction.

“Oh what’s this I see?” she teases, “does someone fancy a certain Weasley?” Angelina continues a wicked grin crossing her face. “Don’t be ridiculous Angelina, there's nothing there.” You say brushing her off as the twins land, pushing each other around smiling. “I don’t know y/n, I’m pretty sure that wink was something.” She nudges you. Ah shit so she saw that. You feel your face grow hotter as a devilish smile grows on Angelina’s face.

George had just touched down. Wiping the sweat of his brow with his arm he nudges the boy beside him, “Nice job Fred!” he says high-fiving his twin. “You too!” Fred laughs back, bumping shoulders with George. Oliver calls up the next duo as Angelina calls out for them. “Oi, you two nitwits, i have someone for you to meet!” she yells for them. George can see you bury your face into your hands and he frowns. Was something wrong? Fred saunters over with George in tow and the two groups meet halfway.

“Well hello there Miss Angelina, you called?” Fred says as he approaches the two friends.

“Yes, I’d like you two to meet my very best mate y/n.” She laughs wrapping an arm around your shoulder. You blush and mutter a thank you to Angelina before speaking.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you, you’re very great at quidditch by the way, y-your skills I mean.” you stutter out, mentally cursing yourself for messing up your introduction. George couldn’t care less in fact, he could’ve melted right there, your voice was adorable and your nervousness made him just want to wrap you in a hug.

“Thank you, haha y/n right?” Fred answers swavely before George could open his mouth, The younger twin turns and glares at his brother, what was he doing? “Yeah, that’s me.” You respond.

“Hey Angie, how come you haven’t mentioned little y/n before?” Fred teases. Angelina rolls her eyes.

“Oh I have, you two twats don’t seem to listen though.” She says coldly. Panic takes over the older twins face. “Oops?” Fred cringes. his answer coming out more like a question.

George decided to speak now while the other two were bickering. “You’re really good yourself you know, you’ve got a mean swing.” George compliments, your face lights up like a kid in a candy store. “Wow! Thanks George, it means a lot.” you smile sweetly at him. His breath hitches.

“W-wait you can already tell the difference between us?” he asks, trying to be nonchalant, but his voice comes out very excited. “Of course!” You laugh. “Angelina’s been telling me loads about you guys, and I’ve just drawn the personality to the person.” You giggle out. “Of course, she obviously can recognize the better looking twin.” Fred butts in puffing out his chest smugly. You roll your eyes, “Fred’s the confident and cocky twin and George is the sweet and compassionate twin” you explain with a smile playing on your lips. Fred opens his mouth in mock offence looking to Angelina for an answer, Angelina stares back at him and mutters a quick, it’s true.

George could tell he had to be beaming, you thought he was sweet and compassionate! He was going to burst with happiness.

“Hey Freddie can I talk to you, alone, for a sec?” Angelina asks, pulling Fred away. “Uh-yeah of course.” Fred follows slightly confused. Angelina shoots y/n a wink and George a look that said, don’t fuck up, as she continues to pull Fred away.

Oh shit she saw his blush didn’t she? Feeling nervous he turns back to face you and he can’t help but stare into your gorgeous eyes, tracing your adorable nose and perfect lips, he can feel himself falling. Hard.

“Lovely weather we’re having” you started, George accidentally cuts you off “Uh- hey, y/n how’d you like to grab a butterbeer with me this weekend?” he asks with a grin, silently kicking himself for interrupting you. Your eyes widen at his sudden boldness, but it’s replaced with a smirk. “Are you asking me on a date Georgie?” His face must’ve been on fire now, he hoped you’d think it was because of the try-outs. Godric he loved the way you said his name.

“I might be, what if I was?” he questions sarcastically. You grin playfully, you pretend to think it over, tapping a finger on your cheek. “I’d say, I’d love to go with you George Weasley and do this.” George looks at you confused as you walk closer to him, but it’s replaced with happiness when you wrap your arms around his torso. He was going to faint, he was sure of it, serotonin was coursing through him at such a fast pace he felt himself physically wobble. You step back a bit, not wanting to over step any boundaries.

Regaining a sliver of his confidence he flashes a charming smile. “Well then y/n what do you say then? Will you go on a date with me?” He opens his arms. You roll your eyes playfully and step back into his embrace. “Yes George I’ll go on a date with you.” you murmur into his broad chest. He hugs you tighter as Angelina and Fred walk back into your view, “alright love birds, y/n and I have got to get going.” Angelina pulls you by your shirt out of George’s embrace, you pout and say one final goodbye to both the twins before grabbing your bag and rushing to Angelina’s side, waving before turning and chatting with her.

Fred leans closer to the blushing red-head, “I take it, it went well?” Fred teases. George doesn’t answer at first, too busy watching you fade in the distance. “Perfect. It went perfect.” He feels himself grinning like an idiot and turning to his twin, “Freddie, I think I'm in love.” He says again joyously, “Alright, loverboy, let’s go get showered and changed so you can go hang with your little y/n again.” Fred suggests. George nods excitedly and grabs his bag, walking alongside Fred back towards the castle. Smiling all the way back.

George didn’t think it possible, but he found himself loving quidditch even more, tuning out Fred’s voice, he silently finds himself hoping he’d get to play quidditch with you by his side.

#george weasley #harry potter imagine #harry potter #weasley twins #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #quidditch #fluff #harry potter fluff #george weasley fluff #imagines

257 notes · View notes

moonlights-inkwell · 4 years

Text

Why Don’t You Just Tell Them All to Fuck Off Love, And Be Mine

Jaskier x Reader

Word Count: 5,670

Summary: You and Jaskier partake in a game of pretend, with some unexpected consequences.

AN: The sequel to Oh Can’t You Hear The Scratching that no one asked for. Oops.

Warnings: Smut. Oral (female receiving). Dirty Talk. Feelings.

“You know,” Jaskier says lightly, cutting through the silence of the empty tavern, making you look up to meet his eyes. “You wore that dress the first night I met you.”

You had almost forgotten Jaskier was still in the tavern. He was being strangely quiet before speaking up, so quiet you could have sworn he had gone home when the drinkers had, yet there he is. Sat there, still holding his Lute on his knee and watching you like a hawk. He’s taken to performing on nights when you work. Locals love him, bards seldom come through your village, and those who do don’t stay for long, so Jaskier's songs have been well received, even if your employer has been shooting your lover death glares every night he has performed. You don’t know if he recalls that it was Jaskier that swept you out of your life in the village so long ago, or if he’s just jealous of how you allow Jaskier affection so freely, but the older man scowls and jabs and jibes, and with him going through the coins earned tonight upstairs, there has been silence. Just you and the rag and a silent Jaskier.

It’s true though, you did wear this dress the first night you met him. It’s a white and wine-coloured affair, pretty enough to flatter your frame but easy enough to move in during your hours working. It’s nice, flares out when you turn too quickly and dips to a respectable if a little coquettish square neckline that makes your chest more obvious. The dress is usually enough to encourage men to be more generous with their coin without hearing any comments about your being some sort of whore, and your hands leave the rag you had been using to clean to smooth the fabric about your hips. You hadn’t paid that much mind when you tugged it on this morning, but under his watchful eyes right now, you flush as though it had been deliberate. Clothing has never been something you pay much mind to but, with how Jaskier is eyeing you, you can tell that he has paid attention to it, and you realise something you hadn’t noticed earlier. He too is wearing the exact same thing he wore the night the two of you met, deep violet and sky-blue doublet and trousers, pretty and attention grabbing- but somewhat toned down compared to his usual garb.

“it was clean.” You say shyly, tucking a few stray curls behind your ear to hear him chuckle quietly.

“It’s beautiful. You're beautiful.” Jaskier says things like that as if they’re obvious, unintentionally making you feel foolish for any insecurity. A pathetic laugh comes from you and he tilts his head like a pup, the island of the bar between the two of you makes you feel safe; he'd never hurt you, that much you can stand your life on, but the distance between you keeps you from doing something foolish. Like kissing him.

He’s been distant since the first night he returned to you, never letting his touch linger longer than would be considered chaste, his kisses never turning passionate, never finding his usual respite between your thighs as he once did. He sleeps beside you, presses kisses to the space beneath the corner of your lips, still sings and leans into you but doesn’t... touch as he once did. It’s as though you've fallen into some sort of time warp to before the first time you were intimate, when he was so concerned about making you uncomfortable that progressing seldom seemed like an option at all. You have no clue how to fix this rift that has developed, unsure if this distance is simply because of the time you spent apart or because he’s no longer interested in you as you’re interested in him.

“It’s just a dress.”

“It’s a dress that makes you look beautiful, Little Miss.” The bard insists, settling his Lute down on the newly cleaned surface of the table before walking around it to approach you. Be it nerves or something more embarrassing than that, you turn from him to continue your cleaning. “...The moment I saw you wearing it, I knew I’d laid my eyes on the most divine creature the lands have ever known.”

“The moment you saw me you had a woman hanging off each arm.” You retort. It’s intended to be playful, but comes out colder than expected, and you cringe at the sound of your own voice. Petty. Absolutely fucking petty, because you know as well as him that once you smiled his way and brushed past him to serve drinks to a group of patrons his lady-friends were gone, and Jaskier had sat at the bar and spent the night talking to you as if you were the only person in the world. You aren’t jealous, truly you aren't, the person your Dandelion had been before you had even known him has never been your concern, and now you sound like an envious adolescent. It’s enough to make your flesh crawl with shame. Were you paying more attention to anything but your own words you might have heard Jaskier say your name firmly, but no, you remain in your own head until your stomach is pressed gently against the counter, kept in place by his warm, firm body behind you. “Jask?” Stupid question. Who else would it be?

“I thought you were the most beautiful woman I could ever lay eyes on.” He breathes into your ear, sending shivers down your back. “A muse, a godsend, beautiful and intoxicating and...” His voice trails away to nothing at all while his hands rest on your hips. “Gods above and below, Missy. The sight of you alone had me willing to spend a whole night ignoring everyone else, content to spend my night obsessed with the Beauty before me and fisting at my cock until i slept to the thought of you rather than try to find someone else to spend my night with.” His voice is little more than a growl, and breathing is growing harder with every honeyed word that drips from his lips. “You, beautiful you, who didn’t care about my songs or my reputation- just so kind and perfect and fucking beautiful.” Cold hands slide upward from your hips to rest in the dips of your waist. “So perfect I asked you to come with me. So perfect I feared telling you how I felt. Skilled with a sword and with your tongue and so much better than I will ever deserve.”

“Julian.” You start, but no other words will follow his real name. You could worry that he's going to do something foolish, or give in and push his hands up to your breasts, but instead you simply sigh and relax into his touch. His lips press to the expanse of your throat and you feel him smile against your skin.

“Even before I asked you to be mine, I wanted you. Needed you. Came with my fist in my mouth to the thought of you so I wouldn’t wake you. So, do not question when I tell you how I feel about you.” His growl is enough to send a rush of heat to your cunt with each word, and a painful sort of warmth to your heart. “Even without being with you, my heart has been yours since the moment I met you.”

Logical thought dies an honourless death at the suggestion of Jaskier's want for you. Weeks of nothing at all and he decides that he ought to break that run by informing you that the first night he had even met you he had worked himself to climax to the thought of you. That the thought of you alone was enough to have him spilling onto his hand even before he had so much as kissed you. You swear you could choke at the thought, but there’s something more you want to choke on. Still, he pulls back from you, the world is off kilter and you swear you’re going to fall to your knees until you turn about to press your back to the counter, it takes less than a second for him to all but throw himself onto you- mouth over yours, tongue dipping into your mouth as though he's some adventurer trying to map out uncharted land.

Eyes shut, his mouth on yours, you feel the tavern around you fall away, the wind gusting through your hair and along your décolletage. There is no tavern, no employer, no cleaning, no childhood home that will almost definitely be cold as death by the time you get home. None of that exists, none of it matters at all. All that exists is his mouth, his tongue, how he manages to somehow be everywhere and nowhere at once, intoxicating and intangible. You could be anywhere, everywhere, with your eyes clamped shut as they are. With no effort at all, you could imagine yourself anywhere, the hidden spot behind a curtain while a ball happens less than a foot away from you, the sandy alcove of some far-off beach, but the place your mind settles on is somewhere you don’t know at all, making you fill in the gaps to create something out of your own memories. Oak coloured, and warm, furnished all with deeply coloured leather, books and instruments, like Oxenfurt, but cast half in shadows by flickering lights and scented like smoke and molasses, like Yen's home. In spite of all of that, or maybe because, it feels like home: especially when Jaskier's lips dip down from your lips to the corner of your mouth once more to kiss at the space he calls Your Kiss.

Lettenhove, your mind supplies the name for the place it has created, faster than you can remember where you know it from. Jaskier's home.

He’s mentioned it to you once, maybe twice, in all the years you’ve known him, only ever to complain and insist how he hated it and would never return, but here you are, creating it in your mind. It seems only right, that he has kissed you in your childhood home that you can at least imagine his. It feels wrong though, even if the thought remains, like a sick secret.

“Darling?” He asks softly, drawing your attention back to him.

“Yes?” You ask gently while his fingers trace circles into your waist.

“You look sad, Dear Heart. I know I’ve been distant but please tell me that look is not disappointment as I assume.”

“No, no. Just thinking.”

“A dangerous past-time.” Jaskier says solemnly with a shake of his head which you ignore.

“Why have you been so distant of late?”

“I. I've had a deal to think about since. Well, since.”

“Since the mountain.” You finish the sentence for him. He nods and you nod in return. He hasn’t told you what happened, except that Geralt and himself had parted ways on less than amicable terms. Why that has meant the two of you haven’t been intimate is beyond you though, and you feel awkward to ask such a question.

“I didn’t want to do anything while my mind was not entirely focused on you, My Muse.” He admits, tracing fingers across the details of your face. “I spent months without you, trying to remember just how your skin turns pink as you climax, the delicate arch of your back, the contortion of your lips. Months of cumming to a memory, and months of cumming to fantasies of you before I had you. I wanted the real thing, and to appreciate it. And that meant not being distracted.”

“I could have put my mouth on you. That always relaxed you.”

“A sweet offer, truly. Probably would have taken you up on it too.” He admits, “But I want to pay attention to you.” Traitors that the mind and mouth are, you can’t find a single word to say, but your lips turn up in a subtle smirk and you pull away from him, slipping from his grasp.

“Darling-" he argues at your sudden movement, but you press your fingers to his lips with a soft shushing sound.

“Play a game with me a while, Dandy?” You ask intently, which catches him off guard, his hand wrapping around your wrist. Pet names are his forte, wordplay his bread and butter, so it doesn’t take a hair out of you when he calls you by one, but you use them fairly infrequently and they always have him blinking like a startled doe.

“Name the game.”

“First impressions.”

“Can’t pretend I know that one, Dear Heart. If it’s anything like Gwent I can’t see my being any good either.” He chuckles and you pull back from him with a laugh of your own.

“Not like Gwent. More of a playing pretend sort of game.” You clarify, though saying it makes you feel childish. “We... we pretend this is the first time we have met.” He smiles at that, head tilting to the side.

“A pretend game.” He repeats, smile growing as he mulls over the idea. “I like it.”

“I’m glad.”

“Are there any rules to this game?” He asks and you blink. Rules had not even entered your mind, but he was right. A game should have rules.

“...We can’t acknowledge anything we’ve been through.” You say easily and he nods. “And we can do whatever we wish we could have done when we first met.”

“Sounds good to me. But one thing before we start?” He asks gently, leaning in and loosening your hair and pressing a kiss to the crook of your neck. “Perfect. Now I can pretend not to have known you.”

“I... think we ought wait for Kacper to leave for the night.” You whisper meekly, and though Jaskier lets out a pained little groan he nods slowly, pulling your hand to his lips to kiss the heel of your palm.

“Fine. Can’t have that vile little man watching as I have my way with you.” That makes you choke, staring at him, wide eyed and gaping like a fish out of water while he smiles down at you like he’s simply commented on the weather.

“You. You say that like I would have let you- “ You falter and snap out a quiet, “That vile little man is the reason we can afford food and clothes!”

“Little Miss, please.” He interrupts you flippantly before bringing his lips down on your own once more, albeit only for a second or so. “I have eyes. I’ve seen how the bastard looks at you. I’ve seen how every bastard looks at you.” You dont know what he means. Kacper, yes, the man is uncomfortable and not someone you want to spend any time about, but everyone? He’s a fool, and a paranoid one ay that.

“Be that as it may!” You say, hoping he doesn’t realise that you’ve essentially agreed with him. “You’re acting as ifi would have let you bed me having known me less than a night.”

“We'll be playing at having just met, not completely forgetting everything. And besides, you said we could do anything we wished we had when we first met, no?”

“I. I did.”

“And, from the moment I met you, I’ve wanted to taste you. And I have every intention of creating a first meeting between us where I was not such a coward as to not even attempt it.”

“I never thought you a coward, Jaskier.” You argue but he shakes his head.

“I know that, Dear Heart, and I wouldn’t change our time together. But it’s just a game of pretend.”

“Just a game of pretend.” You agree.

...

“I’ll be off now, Missy.” Kacper says tiredly, holding onto the door for purchase. “No bard?”

“He's home and asleep by now.”

“You should go home yourself. I can walk you if you-"

“No, no. I'll finish cleaning, it oughtn't take too long. Go rest.” You reply easily, pushing the hair that’s escaped your bun away from your eyes. “I'll be fine. I’m a big girl. I can cope.”

“You can stay in my house if you want to avoid the walk.” He says insistently. Your flesh crawls at his lecherous smile but you fake a smile all the same.

“I’ll be fine, Kacper. But thank you. Sleep well." The response is sharp and firm, and the older man ducks his head in a suddenly sober nod. “Good Night.”

“Goodnight Child.”

Child. The looks he gives you should not be given to a child.

The tavern is empty, and you wipe at the counter in front of you out of boredom until you hear it. The click of the latch lifting followed by the soft squeal that tells you the door is opening. Your eyes stay focused on the wet surface. In this pretence of a night too long ago, you consider pretending to serve drinks to patrons that don't exist, but decide that to be a step too far and instead drop the rag to toy with your hair, leaning against the counter as if watching people that are no longer there.

Try hard enough, and you can make out the people who had been there that night; the table of drunken older men playing Gwent who had always been especially generous in tipping you in the hopes that you might stay a while and bring luck with a smile, your own friends gathered about a table and shouting old pet names to lure you back to their table with ale, the gaggle of older women cawing and cursing about how wrong it is for a girl of your age to be working in a pub, tempting their husbands and sons. It’s familiar and alien and nostalgic all at once, making your heart ache. It was like that not four hours before, and you hadn’t had any such feelings then, but now that it is empty it feels like watching ghosts lingering at empty tables, phantoms sat in empty chairs.

“Is it always so busy?” A voice asks from beside you, making you let out a squeak of surprise. You take in the bard as if you’ve ne’er seen him before, and it’s strange. Gods, he’s beautiful, that you already knew, but the way he’s swept his hair to one side has you convinced he’s testing your patience on purpose. He deliberately loosened your hair so you looked closer to how you had, but his hair is swept to the other side entirely. Bastard. You know he’s done it to see if you will immediately try and sort it out. You’re tempted.

“Oh? It’s early in the morning on Freya's day at a tavern. It’s always busy.” You’re surprised how level your voice is, tinged with sarcasm. “You aren’t from here.”

“Beautiful and Observant. Are all women in this town like you?” He smirks and leans on his elbow, not realising how wet the counter was until it slides along the surface, making you cackle unexpectedly.

“Only in that lines like those won’t work on them, stranger.” You struggle out between laughs. “Ale? Wine? Food?”

“Wine, please.” He grumbles out, pushing himself off of the counter. Any mortal man would be ashamed of having almost knocked out their front teeth on the bar, but not the bard, his lips turn up in a smirk. “And the name of the radiant being in front of me.”

“Wine it is, Stranger.”

“Not a stranger. Stranger has some awful implications, Pretty Thing, and a stranger is only a stranger when you know not their name.” A pale, calloused hand is thrust towards you. “Dandelion. Well, Jaskier, famed bard. Surely you've heard of me.” His voice is overcome with confidence, and you can’t help but lean on the driest part of the counter to observe him closely before breathing out your name, which he repeats.

“That’s my name.” You say simply, leaning back to seek out a bottle of wine and pouring out a glass for the bard in front of him. “And I can’t pretend I know who you are, Bard. But if you’re famed then I presume that you can pay for your drinks.”

His face falls at that, and he begins to ooh and awe, looking through his pockets which you already know to be empty.

“Now, Angel of the Ale, famed doesn’t necessarily mean rich-"

“And, Bard, pretty eyes and notoriety doesn’t necessarily mean you'll get a free drink from me.” Your hand covers the brim of the glass and begin to slide it backwards toward you. “This is an establishment, not a charity.”

“Now, Missy. Let us not be too hasty.” He argues, with a small smile. “surely a song is enough payment for a single glass of wine?” This elicits an unamused sigh from you, and you lift your hand from the cup.

“Fine, Bard. Have it. But not a word of this to anyone. The owner will have my head if he finds out.”

“No song, Missy?” He asks and you laugh and shake your head.

“No, no. I’m. I’m hardly one for a song. You would just be wasting a song.”

“A shame." Jaskier drawls out, taking a sip of wine before settling you with a smile that is just on the right side of leering. “I like to believe my songs are good enough even for those who don't know much of music. I hear I have a very clever mouth, and a talented tongue."

He has a bastard of a tongue. The sort that has you flushing without obscene words, and with them? Oh, Melitele's tits you feel like you'll fall apart. The shock written across your face is true, and he chuckles like it’s a funny joke between just you two. It is, you suppose, or would be, were it not for the vile looks that your employer sends your way when he thinks your eyes away from his.

“Excuse me-?”

“Come, Pretty Thing, play at a role that suits you. Shocked virgin might be believable at your age were you not the most beautiful woman I could ever lay eyes upon.” Jaskier says dismissively, eyes unblinking and following you as you escape from behind the bar. It’s easy to feel like prey under his watchful gaze.

“Not that my sexual activity is any of your business, but I am.” You respond, shakily; watching as Jaskier saunters to you, holding his chalice in one hand. “A. A virgin, I mean.” You all but whisper the last sentence, and he grins; terrible and beautiful, all teeth and gums, and he reminds you of the wolves that lived in the woods during your childhood. But then he slinks closer still, the comparison between Jaskier and wolves are not quite right. No. Geralt, wherever in the world he is, is a wolf; built to survive hardship. Close enough to resemble a person who could be kept, but far too large and dangerous for that. No. Jaskier is no wolf.

Jaskier is a fox. Slim and small and ready to rip out your throat. Easily mistaken for a pet, even willing to play at the role, but as soon as you stop eyeing him, he returns to a state that is closer to feral than kept. You feel like a chick, eyed like a feast, waiting for him to just. Strike. And he does, just not in the way you expected- he cups your cheek gently and swipes his thumb across your cheek.

“Then everyone in this village must be blind, if they aren’t willing to fight to the death to Kiss you, never mind bed you.” His voice is smoke and molasses and you feel like you could drown on dry land.

“They’ve wanted to.”

“But you haven’t?”

“Never met someone who I had any interest in.”

“Is your... employer here?”

“N-no.”

“Then, at the risk of pushing, darling-maid, I’d rather show you what pleasures the flesh can hold.”

“Push. Please.”

.....

Games of pretend as an adult are much different than they were when you were a child. As a child you toyed at being a princess, a dragon, a knight; now, you’re pretending not to know the love of your life as he buries his face between your thighs, shoved over a table that you cleaned while his clever tongue works it’s way inside of you from behind.

The wood under you is so, so cold, but his mouth is intoxicatingly warm. Having his mouth on you is nothing new, not at all, but it has you feeling drunk: like having gulped down a tavern's worth of wine, giddy and all appendages tingling. It’s right and comfortable and new all at once. This position especially, face down on a table with him down on his knees before you, the Bard insists on seeing your face- be it so he can kiss you or see the minute changes in your face that tell him that you’re close, but tonight all you can see is the floor and not the mop of brunet locks and wide, blue eyes. The change is fine, welcome, but not enjoyed as much as the alternative.

He’s made a romantic out of you, you don’t know if you should like or despise that fact. Women in the pub ask often about your musical lover and his talented tongue and fine fingers, asking if the length of them extends to other more personal parts of his anatomy, which you always laugh off. Small villages such as this thrive on gossip and you couldn’t bear it were your intimate goings on to become the talk of the town, but really, you’ve other reasons to be silent on the matter. How do you explain to someone that it’s not about the fingers that crook within you as it is the fact he always knows exactly where to do so? Could you ever find the words to describe that talented though his tongue may be, it’s the fact that you feel him use it to trace the words I love you against your most personal flesh, as he is right now? Can there be a means of saying that large as your lover's cock might be, and that he is well aware how to use it and that he uses it well, your pleasure comes more from the softness in storm-coloured eyes that bore deep into your soul all while that thick length fills you to the point of no return? Never mind a romantic, he's made some poet out of you. You never knew poetry and syphilis were transmitted the same way but you'd rather the former than the latter.

Missing his eyes on you, you whimper and reach back for his hair only to have it pinned to the table beneath you. With a long lick from your clit down to your entrance Jaskier pulls back, only to stare at your sex while panting- the warm air passing along your soaked cunt and making you quake .

“I was right, Pretty Thing. People should fight to the death to Kiss you. Especially kiss these lips you so cruelly hide.” He sounds as drunk as you feel, words slurring over themselves.

“Bard. Bard please.” You whine, digging your nails into the table. There's a breathless chuckle behind you, followed by a wet kiss to the meat of your thigh, where leg meets arse.

“Do you want something, Angel of the Ale?” He chuckles, nipping at the skin.

“Julian~” You whine loudly and Jaskier lets out a whisper of something that sounds suspiciously like finally, followed by a sharp swat to your cunt, wet slap echoing through the empty air. You'll never be able to work comfortably again, instead you'll be haunted by the memory of Jaskier's most triumphant performance to date: being able to bring you to the brink of orgasm without talking. No compliments, no whispered coos of Little Miss or Dear Heart to encourage you. Just his tongue.

“So much for your game of pretend, Little Miss.” Jaskier sighs, but there's nothing but amusement in his voice. “I thought we were strangers?”

“Changed my mind.” You choke out while his fingers spread the lips of your entrance wide open. “If I wanted to fuck a stranger, I would. I want my Buttercup to make love to me.”

“Make love to you, eh?” Words fan across wet flesh and you could swear you have reached nirvana.

“I want the love of my life to stop playing silly buggers and fuck me until I sob, yes.”

He moans at that, weak and wanton as he bucks his hips into your calf, the proof of his want dragged against your skin like a dog rutting. Ever since he called you that in Oxenfurt, it’s been a secret sort of weapon for you. Losing an argument? Tell him he’s the love of your life. See him glaring across the tavern at a man whose eyes have been on you a second too long? Love of your life. It might be cruel were it not true.

“Gods, Dear Heart, you're a cruel mistress.” You feel him smile as he bucks against you once more, thick and hard under layers of fabric. “Play pretend, Jaskier. Make love to me, Jaskier. You're the love of my life, Jaskier. What next? I simply won’t rest until your cock is in my mouth, Jaskier? You're going to be the death of me.” He smiles, you can feel soft lips as he kisses up from beneath the crease of your arse to the thickest point. “I’m half convinced you’re trying to kill me.”

“Never.” Comes the earnest reply. “I can hardly spend forever with you if you’re dead.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you’re half convinced you’ve gone too far but a thought creeps unbidden into your mind to fill the gaps. Something he said in Oxenfurt, which slips from your mouth with honest ease.

“I'd marry you this second if I could.”

Eyes slip closed as if waiting for some inevitable fallout, but none comes. Instead, you’re rolled onto your back and tugged up with such an intensity you worry the table might capsize.

“... A hell of a place to propose, Little Miss.” He returns your own words back to you, eyes soft while his hand comes up to frame your face, fingers ghosting across the scar on your eye. The wound that kept you apart so long. The other rests on the crook of your neck, where if you cast your mind back far enough, you recall a wound being once, from some sort of vampire. He’s held your life inside you with trembling hands more often than you would like to think about, and you reach up to rest a hand over the space on his chemise where you know his heart ought be. It thunders along at a pace too fast for you to know it as you normally would, reminds you of how your own feels after fighting, fucking, but your own heart is beating slowly, pumping along at a relaxed pace under the touch of his fingers.

“Well. I’m no poet.”

“No. No, you aren’t.” He agrees. “I. I recall someone else saying that once before too.”

“Well.” You reply melodiously, fingers straying from the fabric to the thatch of hair across his chest. Downy, dark hair, always keeping you a layer away from him- thick enough to keep you from seeing the flesh beneath but fine enough to feel his warmth seeping through. “He never got about to proposing, so I assumed I could take the line for myself.”

“Excuse you, Dear Heart!” He sounds scandalized, like some rich old bat who asked for petunias and was gifted peonies by mistake. “I think you will find one of us refused to propose in his old place of education and spent every day afterwards trying to earn coin enough to buy you a proper ring, and as soon as I did you near died- oh. Oh shit. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“You. You bought me a ring?” You ask incredulously. It doesn’t sound real. Jaskier bought a ring. For you.

“Of course.”

“You. You, Jaskier, bought me a ring?” You ask again, mind unable to fully understand what it is he's said.

“I told you I wanted to marry you!” He replies sharply, eyes narrowed a little as if anticipating a fight about it, but all you can do is grin up at him.

“You want to marry me.”

“I do.” He confirms, softening from the annoyance as easily as he hardened into it. “Not where I wanted to propose-"

“Then don’t. Not here.” You insist. “Melitele's tits, I like to think I'm quite free and easy about these sorts of things but I’d rather you not propose in the tavern I work in.”

“Good. Especially as I don’t have the ring to hand.”

“As long as you plan on marrying me, I don’t mind when it happens.”

You mean it too, but he shakes his head, leaning down to kiss you softly on the tip of your nose.

“You commandeer my proposal, destroy the element of surprise, make me tell you my plans. What am I to do with you?”

“Keep me forever?” You prompt and he smiles and kisses you gently, hands sliding down to your hips, tugging your skirts up once more to eye your quim. “Jaskier?”

“I need to get you home right now.” He whispers softly, eyes moving from your sex to your eyes. “So that I can make up for lost time.”

“...Why not start here?”

“It’s hardly romantic after admitting I want to marry you.”

“Bath and Bed?” You offer but he chuckles.

“I think some things may need to go in the middle and the end.”

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #jaskier x you #witcher x reader #witcher smut #jaskier smut

200 notes · View notes

percydarling · 3 years

Note

I'll be honest,if the weasley kids had a tv show I would have percy as my favourite. Bill aand charlie arent in it so I wouldnt have an opinion (they're obviously hinted at but never there) Arthur's gonna annoy me kinda, molly is really nice but she always compares her kids. Ron (as lovely as he is) can be really mean to percy and just sucky to him. I love Ginny but everyone knows jk made her because "girl power= not feminine traits!1!1!1!" I love her,I love her love for quidditch but I feel like I still clearly see what she represents and that's jks sentiments (like cho for example, as an asian it's never gonna leave my mind). The twins would be great in theory but 2 twins insulting their older brother, burning a hole through their brothers tongue? Pranking everybody ALL THE TIME? I say I love them but seriously if I studied at hogwarts I would loathe them because hey, were in class- prank somebody in a more boring one or after. Also they're way too mean to percy.

Percy is the kinda dude I'd identify with, I hate how his family shames him alot. Sure hes ambitious but at the same time I hate when they bully him for his pride in his prefect badge and his head boy badge, like CMON! Gryffindor traits??? PRIDEFUL like yeah hes gonna be happy because he feels accomplished. I remember getting into model un and I talked about it at dinner time,my siblings got kinda annoyed but did they insult me abt it? No! They understood that this was a big part of my pride. They teased me a little "Haha model un-er" or "your rooms the country your representing right? Oops I dont have my passport" regular happy sibling stuff. You dont insult your brothers pride and joy, it's obvious hes so happy about it.

If there's gonna be a show on the Weasley family, the only interestee Weasley I would be watching is for Percy. Now let's go through every Weasley.

Arthur- at work, never home, if at home in shed exploring muggle things instead of probably bonding with his children.

Molly-would do chores, help children and maybe chat with next door neigbour. A slight chance of bonding with kids. Not very entertaining really.

Bill and Charlie- I mean depends whether they're even there or gone. If they're there they'd probably argue with each other. Maybe we'll get the Bill earring story and Charlie dragon obsession. Other than that maybe sibling bonding which is always good.

Twins- I cannot emphasize enough as to why I wouldn't watch the twins, if there was such a tv show. Each episode they'll probably prank someone most probably Ron and Percy. And then these pranks would get violent and physical and they would still be the saints and Percy the villain.

I mean the twins cause Ron's phobia, almost make him take the Unbreakable Vow (Ron was 5!) and then beat his Puffskein to death.

AND PUFFSKEIN IS AN ANIMAL.

And that's only Ron. If I start on Percy the jokes are endless but let's just end with the twins tried to locked Percy in a pyramid( God knows how old!). Enough said.

Ron- We already have Ron content in the book. Do we really need more? Yes we do but not if it's Ron insulting Percy. And if this show was before Harry and Hogwarts then Ron would be a young child like 9-10 years old and I personally wouldn't be interested. I love Ron but he loses absolutely no moment to insult or bitch about his brother. Plus Ron is whiny. Sometimes.

Ginny- They'll probably make her a Mary Sue who can do no wrong. They would seriously do that and make her a female version of the twins. Sorry not interested in watching her.

When we come to Percy there are so many things we can do. We can see bonding with Bill or Charlie. Percy being a good older brother and helping with nightmares. Percy being his mother's support system. Percy helping Arthur with his work. Percy teaching Ron chess. Percy planning a prank with twins. Percy playing dolls with Ginny.

With Percy you can relate him to everyone in some way or another. We know Molly loves Percy and probably considers him her favorite. Probably. Arthur with the Ministry so Percy and Ministry. Percy going to Bill with help for studies. Percy helping Charlie research about dragons.(Percy telling Charlie his dormmate is crazy about quidditch and asking if Charlie could give him tips and an autograph)

Percy playing chess with Ron. We know Percy is protective over Ron and Ginny. So we can assume that Percy teaches Ron chess and helps him read. Percy reading to Ginny about Harry Potter.(Really though who else would have? Molly would be busy and Bill and Charlie wouldn't)

Or we can have Percy writing stuff. Short stories and articles. Percy being a writer. Percy singing , dancing or drawing. Percy sneaking to Muggle town and talking to them.

Percy finding Scabbers.

Percy going to the Lovegood residence and talking with Luna's mother because she is such an amazing person.

(And taking her death the hardest)

Also Percy bonding with Luna.

Percy bonding with Uncle Billius or Great Aunt Muriel. Also reminsing time with Uncle Gideon and Fabian.

Percy having babysitter called Lily Potter who looked just like him but with bright green eyes. She reads to him about adventure stories and tells him she loves him very much and once brought her husband with her(who's an animagus!)

(While his brothers rejoiced the fall of You Know Who, Percy cried because Miss Lily and Mr James were dead. That was the time Percy realised that bad things happen to good people)

Well to put it in short there are so many angles with Percy which makes him interesting in my opinion.

If they do make let's hope they don't screw Percy over like they did with him in that damn game.

Also for that Percy interacting with Muggles there's an interesting fanfic called Percy's Diary.

https://m.fanfiction.net/s/7542632/1/Percy-s-Diary

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Percy is the only Weasley who I can relate to which makes me love him more. I am an elder sibling, have been constantly insulted by family and friends for following rules and very rarely been put down for being excited for something.

And the whole making fun of Percy is bullying when they're laughing at him and not with him.

These 2 prepositions make all the difference when it comes to teasing and bullying.

And the twins are bullies. They are.

"Oh, are you a prefect, Percy? You should've said something, we had no idea."

This is one of the lines they say.

How much do you want to bet that the twins didn't say something like this to Bill when he became prefect and HeadBoy?

Percy was a constant butt of their jokes and pranks, including bewitching his prefect and Head Boy badges to read Pinhead and Bighead Boy respectively, and sending dragon dung to his office at the Ministry.

This is from the official wikia. People can try to make the twins saint and say it was all good natured and everything. But I will always see the twins as bullies.

And the thing is the twins and Ron never bothered to praise Percy and that just feels wrong. Everytime they talk about Percy it's qn insult. When I talk about my brother to an acquaintance I don't insult him unlike Ron.

I feel that as Percy fans we love him because he is complicated. He isn't like the rest of the Weasleys. He isn't charming or funny. He's just a normal guy trying to do better and Percy fans get it because it's relatable. We can relate to being ordinary. He doesn't have earrings or pranks or a saviour best friend. He's just a guy who follows rules and wants to be successful. Who wouldn't relate with that?

And maybe some of us have been ridiculed just like Percy so we understand. We also understand that this is Harry's biased view and all he has been told about Percy is usually by Ron or the twins who insult him on a regular basis. And Harry is no better! He uses words like pompously like he understands how a person talks pompously?

So I love Percy a lot because I relate to him and I would never in my life apologise for loving such a complicated character.

#percy weasley #percy weasley deserves better #ask in a box #thanks for the ask!#twin weasleys criticism #all weasleys except for Percy criticism #but not much

52 notes · View notes

imagine-loki · 3 years

Text

Handcuffs

TITLE: Handcuffs CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: 7/? AUTHOR: nekoamamori ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine being accidentally handcuffed to Loki RATING: M NOTES/WARNINGS: Also on AO3 here

Loki was still buried deep inside you and cuddling you close when you were interrupted by a noise behind him. It was a very distinctive noise of someone clearing their throat. You squeaked in surprise. Annoying Stark had been a fun idea when you were pissed off at him for the handcuffs. It was less fun when you were caught in the act.

Loki growled in annoyance and pulled out of you carefully before he turned to face the intruder. He summoned clothes automatically on you both. You doubted it was for your propriety more than his. You had a feeling that he wouldn’t care if whoever was there saw him in all his glory. You didn’t recognize the garment you wore, some kind of Asgardian robe. It was soft and silky and absolutely beautiful. Loki was only wearing a pair of black pants. They were made of a soft material that you’d never seen in any shop on Earth. You realized that he’d summoned familiar clothes to him. Apparently, when he was in a rush, he defaulted to Asgardian fashion, which made sense as that was what he’d been used to for over a thousand years.

You were impressed that he’d managed to turn to the intruder in such a way that he was blocking you from view while he wasn’t hurting your handcuffed hand at all or dragging it into an unnatural position. It was pretty impressive to be fair.

You peeked around him to see who was bothering you while you were illicitly having sex in Stark’s lab. That was the activity you’d very much like to get back to and you didn’t appreciate the interruption. You’d very much like to dominate Loki next time. It seemed like it would be such fun, but your fun was being rudely interrupted. You paled when you saw who it was, though. It was a perfect life-size hologram of Stark.

Oops.

You’d wanted to annoy him, but thought you’d have some time before he actually found out what you were doing. Or had any way of getting back here to yell at you for it.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing? No, hell isn’t a strong enough word. What the ever-loving fuck do you two think you’re doing?” Stark’s hologram demanded as he glared at you and Loki.

Loki chuckled. “I thought that would get your attention, Stark,” he said far too pleasantly. He wasn’t fazed at all by Stark’s glare or anger. You’d expected him to be at least a little affected, but he seemed to be completely immune. Perhaps it came from being a god, or a thousand years older than Stark.

“You have it, now get the fuck out of my lab. You’re not allowed in here, which you know-“ Stark started in on a tirade.

Loki cut it short by raising his uncuffed hand. “We will leave your lab and I will even clean it for you if you help us with one slight problem we are having,” Loki told him, regal and polite as the prince he was.

Stark raised an eyebrow. It looked a bit strange when a blue holographic image did it, but it still got the point across. “What favor would I possibly be willing to do you? I should just have you locked up in the cells until your brother can deal with you,” Stark replied heatedly. He was still very clearly pissed. He looked past Loki to you. “And you’re supposed to be babysitting him, not fucking him in my lab!”

“So, it’s ok if I fuck him elsewhere then?” You asked with more snark than usual. Stark was being a bit unreasonable when you hadn’t actually hurt anything. Loki had even offered to clean the lab, which was far more than Stark ever seemed to do with the place. Plus, you were pretty sure he and Pepper had already christened the lab.

Stark’s eyes widened and he spluttered something incoherent. Apparently, that was not the answer he had been expecting.

Loki chuckled. “So, about that favor…” he segued back to the topic he actually wanted to discuss. He raised your joined hands to show Stark the handcuffs. “If you will kindly inform me as to how to remove these, we will be out of your lab posthaste,” he said pleasantly with an impish grin that you knew meant he thought he was getting his way. There was no way Stark would deny his terms, especially since the terms were so easy to accomplish. Clean Loki-free lab in exchange for no more handcuffs.

Stark continued to glare. “You wouldn’t be in this mess if you’d stayed out of my lab,” he informed Loki cooly.

Loki inclined his head. “Yes, well, I did only wish to know what your new secret project is,” he replied easily, blaming Stark for this whole mess by enticing the god with a new secret. Of course Loki, being Loki, would have to come investigate a secret project.

“And now you’ve found it, congratulations,” Stark said dryly.

“Stark?” You asked, confused.

“I’ve been working on those handcuffs, Loki-proof handcuffs,” Stark explained, at least taking a bit of pity on you, even if he was pissed.

Loki stiffened and glared. “What does that mean? I have more than proven myself-“ Loki started to protest. You were close enough that you could feel his magic gathering at the surface, though you barely understood the sensation. You weren’t magical after all. Loki tested everyone in the tower when he’d moved in.

“I think you have proven yourself by breaking into my lab and activating the handcuffs…” Stark replied dryly.

“So, how do we get them off?” You asked, drawing their attention back to the problem at hand. Those two could bicker for hours if there was no intervention to stop them.

Stark shrugged. “They’re prototypes. I haven’t gotten that far. They’re made of metal that can’t be destroyed by anything on Earth and runes that I researched,” Stark didn’t have magic, but he’d figured something out, it seemed. You saw the wheels turning in Loki’s mind. He would have to find out how Stark had gotten magic to work later. Right now, you both had to figure out how to get out of the cuffs. “You’ll have to wait until I get back and can work on developing an unlocking mechanism. At least we know they work,” he said unapologetically with a shrug. Loki was technically under control and you were still technically babysitting, even if it wasn’t ideal by anyone’s stretch of the imagination.

Especially yours. You wanted to fuck Loki, not be handcuffed to him.

“When are you getting back?!?!” You demanded. You couldn’t just stay handcuffed to Loki.

Stark groaned. “This mission is taking longer than I’d hoped. Another day or two?”

“Stark!!” You protested as if that would actually do anything.

“You best hurry back, Stark,” Loki growled, though neither of you were really in a position to argue too hard.

It was your own damn fault you were in this situation.

#Loki #Lover #Submitted fic #submission #handcuffs #chapter 7 #nekoamamori

65 notes · View notes

ashintheairlikesnow · 4 years

Note

(@whimpers-and-whumpers) concept: Chris in college. He has to do a certain number of gen ed credits to get his degree. He ends up in a mythology class. Chris has a breakdown when the class discussion turns to Baldur, Norse god of light and purity.

CW: Referenced past pet whump, traumatic memories, vaaaaague suggestions about past noncon, past whump of a minor, brief internalized ableism, warning for past Oliver being a fucking creep

“Well, this one just has a stupid name,” Ben says, squinting at his mythology textbook, tapping at a page.

“What, what is it?” Chris and Ben are ‘studying’ together, which today mostly means Ben is studying and Chris is thinking about Laken’s arms when they wear a tank top.

Ben is on is stomach on his bed, book open in front of him, while Chris lays on his back on the surprisingly plush shaggy rug that Ben bought at Target three weeks ago. Chris could sleep on this thing if he wanted, it’s so comfortable. Not that Chris can’t sleep pretty much anywhere.

Chris closes his eyes, thinking about Laken’s smile, with their slightly crooked incisor tooth on the one side, when Ben says, “Baldur.”

Chris’s eyes open back up.

Baldur, darlin’. His Sir is calling him, hand on his head, waking him from his doze hidden under his desk, curled into a ball in the safe, dark space. Baldur, wake up, sweetheart, were you dreaming again?

“Why would you name a god Bald-er? Like, celebrate not having hair, I guess. What a stupid name.”

Nicky’s voice, wrinkling his nose, saying I’m not going to call you that when he heard.

“That’s not, um, not what it, it, it means,” Chris says. Ben doesn’t use the overhead light when Chris is in his room - it buzzes in a way that gets under Chris’s skin. Instead, he uses warm yellowy lamps, and opens the curtains over the window to let outside light in.

“Oh, you know this?” Ben looks up, and Chris’s face is carefully schooled emptiness, as much as it can be. Ben doesn’t know what to look for, so he doesn’t see it, and that’s what matters.

“Yep,” Chris says, shifting uneasily. Laying on his back suddenly feels wrong and also entirely right, exactly how he’s meant to be. He catches himself and pushes up to seated, looking out Ben’s window, focusing on the blue sky, slivers of white clouds, the gentle rattle of wind against the window when it gusts.

He reminds himself that he can go out there whenever he wants.

“Well... tell me something about him that’s more interesting than this stupid paragraph.” Ben taps the page again.

Sir, can, can, can you-... can you, can-

Words, Baldur. Do you need to practice with the metronome again?

No! No... no thank you... Sir. I, I can... can you... tell me about... the mistletoe, again?

Much better. Of course I can, darlin’. Come kneel here next to me.

“Baldur is, um, is, is... Old Norse it means, um, ‘brave’.” Chris sighs, fiddling with the seam of his pants, shifting his hands up to rub at a rough spot on his knee, then up to the feather necklace he’s always wearing, rubbing at the textured, carved plastic carefully. “Or, you know, in, um, in... sometimes they, they think, it’s the same as, as... same root as Belobog-”

“The same what as what now?”

“Um, Belobog is, um, is, is, is... is is is, is a, a day... a god of day. Slavic. Um. But, but so, so there’s this idea that maybe Baldur meant, um, Baltas, or, um, an older word like it, because Baldur was, was... beautiful.”

“Beautiful?” Ben watches him with interest, but Chris doesn’t look at him. His Sir’s voice is in his ear, a hand tipping up his chin. Somewhere his Sir is... is still there, not in the big mansion with the hallway anymore, but... he’s somewhere. And Chris can feel him.

“Yeah,” Chris says, almost breathes. “Baldur was, was, was, was... was the most beautiful god.” He feels every line of his face, that his Sir once traced with his fingertips. He’s pretty. He knows he’s pretty. Too beautiful to be for anything else, sweetheart.

“Wow. So, what else do you know about him?”

It starts like this, darlin’. Baldur had a dream...

“Baldur... had a dream,” Chris says, and his voice shifts, slows down. He goes still where he sits on the rug, staring outside at the sky through Ben’s window. He sits perfectly still, breathing in a slow, even in-and-out, as if guided by the ticking of the metronome all over again. “He dreamed... about dying. And his mother did, too. His mother... dreamed his, his death. Just, just like he did.”

Ben’s face is serious and thoughtful, watching as Chris’s thumb stops rubbing at the feather necklace, and it drops back to thump against his chest.

“He was... sad, because the gods... the, the, the gods-... sorry, wrong, um, bad words, I just-... the gods...”

The gods dream in prophecy, Baldur, pretty thing. Never forget. Gods dream futures.

Yes, yes, yes, Sir.

And I dreamed your future, so what does that make me, sweetheart?

Did Sir ever dream this?

“The gods dream in prophecy,” Chris says, echoing his Sir’s voice in his head. “Frigg was, was, was scared.”

“Wait, that’s-” Ben turned pages in his notebook. “You mean Freya?”

“Frigga, Frija, Frigg,” Chris mumbles. The sky outside the window seems so far away, now.

“She, um, she went around and asked... asked, um, everything on Earth to, to... to promise they would never, never hurt Baldur. And... everything did, except... mistletoe.”

“Mistletoe? Like, the shit you kiss under at New Year’s?”

“Right. Everything but, but mistletoe.” He pulls his knees tight to his chest and sits like that, feeling Sir’s hand drift over the back of his neck, two fingers crook underneath soft leather of a collar Chris no longer wears. “It was... small, and a soft, soft thing, unimportant. When... when Loki-”

“Oh, I know who he is,” Ben says confidently, smiling now - but there’s a hint of something like worry in his eyes as he takes in Chris sitting perfectly still, like he’s carved from stone.

“When, when Loki heard... he had a, a, a spear made of mistletoe. Loki didn’t, didn’t want to get in trouble for murder, so, um... so, so, so so so he gave the spear to, to, to Baldur’s brother, who was blind. Everyone threw things, at, at Baldur, and it bounced off, and Baldur’s smile was... was like the sun. Everyone loved him.”

Who could ever love you, pretty pet, but me?

“Baldur’s brother threw the, the spear. And killed him.”

Ben blinks, shifts forward. “He did? Holy shit.”

“Um, yes. Because, because the mistletoe-”

“Right. Because the mistletoe never promised not to hurt-... wow, that’s dark shit. Loki did that on purpose?”

“Yeah, he, um, he’s Loki. So. But, so, so, so... so this person, Baldur’s own family, um... killed him.”

“Yeah... shit. What happened after that?”

Chris rubs at the back of his neck, and feels the warmth of his Sir’s palm press over his hand, feels his mouth press a kiss to Chris’s coppery hair-

No, his hair is blue now. He did it himself. His hair is blue.

“Baldur,” He whispers, “went, went, went to, to, to... to... to hell-... I mean, um, to, to Hel, the goddess of the underworld. She, she, she saw his beauty and-... kept him. Be, beside her. And... and he couldn’t, couldn’t escape it, and come back, unless everything on earth cried for, for, for, for... for his loss. But one giant refused. So...” He trails off. “That’s, um, that’s... there’s more, but... yeah.”

“Wow.”

Chris swallows.

Well done, darlin’. You’ve never forgotten a single thing you learned for me...

“How do you know all this shit about fucking Norse gods, Chris?” Ben taps his pen on his paper, looking at his own sharp, angular handwriting, the notes he’s been taking all along.

Unlike Chris’s notebooks, covered in loopy scrawling writing and with the margins full of doodles of shapes and little drawings of animals, Ben’s margins are as neat and empty as they can be.

Chris usually feels like what his hand draws, a constant movement, a constant shift, filling his life in with his motion. Right now, though, he feels like Ben’s margins, empty open space. Paint over what was there before, and nothing’s left but the blank spots.

Chris shrugs. He pretends he doesn’t feel the soft weight of his Sir’s hand, resting just over the back of his neck, the brush of his lips over Chris’s earlobe, the whisper of his voice sending a shiver down his spine.

Beautiful boy. Would you like to hear about how Odin got his eight-legged horse today, darlin’?

Yes, yes... yes, Sir. Tell... tell me, tell, but can I... after can you tell me about, about Baldur again?

Silly boy. Of course I can. Lay down on your back for me.

“I, I knew someone,” Chris says, his heart skipping a beat. He can almost feel himself leaning back into a phantom hand through his hair, ready to lay down on navy silk sheets, like none of the good things ever happened.

Like he’s still a beautiful boy, living in hell.

He breathes in, and then out. Tries to replace the feeling of Sir’s arms around him with the daydream he’s been having about Laken’s arms instead.

“I knew someone who, um... who liked the, the stories about Baldur. A, a long time ago.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. A, um... a kid.”

“Like, a brother? I thought you just had your adopted brothers.”

“Um, no, not, not, not... not my brother.” Chris grips onto his feather necklace, again. He can almost feel the warmth of Laken’s skin when they accidentally bump against him in line to get dinner at the dining hall. “Not my brother. Just... just, um, a kid... who was kind of like me.”

---

Tagging: @burtlederp , @finder-of-rings , @endless-whump , @whumpfigure , @slaintetowhump , @astrobly @newandfiguringitout , @doveotions , @pretty-face-breaker , @boxboysandotherwhump , @oops-its-whump @moose-teeth , @cubeswhump , @cupcakes-and-pain @whump-tr0pes @whumpiary - @whimpers-and-whumpers

(Nicky - briefly referenced here - is @orchidscript’s OC Henry)

#whump #recovering whumpee #trauma recovery #chris the strawberry blond romantic #traumatic memories #oliver branch is gross #past noncon reference #past pet whump #trauma recovery whump #flashbacks tw #ptsd tw

107 notes · View notes