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thenextdawn-temporarilyclosed · 1 year

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I’ll do anything

Word count: 2.3k

Summary: the day of the final battle, after Wednesday killed Crackstone and Thornhill showed up, things didn’t go as expected and you were there to protect Wednesday from being shot. (You two had already been dating but hadn’t defined you relationship yet.)

Warnings: blood, hospital stay

Pairing: Wednesday x Fem!reader

Hey there! Second short story with Wednesday! This is something I’ve been wanting to read but haven’t found it anywhere so I decided to make my own! I hope you like it✨

———

You reached the quad soon after Wednesday had disintegrated Crackstone. You thought you wanted to hug her, but she didn’t allow you to yet. As of now she only allowed you to stay close to her, but when you two were alone she would let you hold her hand. She was still getting used to this whole relationship thing.

You soon got to where she was and she turned around having heard your steps and your voice “Wednesday! Are you okay? Does your shoulder hurt!?” You asked her worriedly, unconsciously and gently putting a hand on her cheek, the one not covered in blood, And she surprisingly let you do so.

However she never had time to reply because suddenly you heard a noise you knew too well, the noise of a gun. Wednesday turned around to look at the redhead woman holding a gun onto her. “You brought a gun to a sword fight. That’s probably the first smart decision you’ve made today” the braided girl said with determination, to which the teacher replied “I might not get to kill every outcast, but at least I get to kill you Wednesday” she got the gun ready.

Unluckily it wasn’t like In every movie where someone would come rescue you, and luckily you were quick enough to react when the woman pulled the trigger. You pushed Wednesday away, taking the bullet that was meant for Wednesday. “(Y/N)!!” You heard Wednesday yell as you took some steps backwards and Thornhill giggled “well I guess two is better than one!” She was about to shoot again but this time Eugene came to the rescue with his bees.

As Eugene attacked Thornhill with his bees, you had the time to realize what had happened. You had taken a bullet in your stomach, and you did it for Wednesday. You did it for the girl you loved.

———

A COUPLE MONTHS BEFORE

You were in your history class when the class eavesdropped and started talking about sacrifice with your teacher. You weren’t really paying attention to what they were saying, as you were doodling on your notebook. You were drawing all kinds of things but you put a lot of effort in one specific drawing, a cello. Not just a random Cello, Wednesday’s Cello. Recently you had been going in her and Enid’s room a lot to hang out with them, and because well, you wanted to be with Wednesday. She enjoyed your presence, even though she didn’t show it much.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when you heard the teacher talk “I would never take a bullet for someone-“ he was about to add more to the conversation, but you interrupted him. “I would” everyone’s eyes turned on you, saying you were crazy for even wanting to do that and sacrificing yourself for someone else. “Why would you, (Y/N)? Do you not want to live your life to the fullest?” He asked crossing his arms, thinking you would take back everything you said.

“I do, yes. But at the same time I would rather sacrifice myself for someone I truly love and watch them live their life to the fullest. It wouldn’t be fair, to just be standing there and watch them die. If you love someone you’d do everything for them, taking a bullet at their place is one of those things. I know life should be worth living, but why live it with the remorse of not having done everything you could for your loved one?”

The class went quiet. Somehow everyone agreed with you now, and they looked to their loved one, except for you. Wednesday hadn’t wanted to make everyone know that you were dating, but with the tail of your eye you saw her expression soften, very slightly hinting a smile.

———

You fell on the ground. You fell on the ground and immediately put a hand over the wound. You didn’t know if the bullet had gone out from the other side but the only thing you could do to prevent loosing too much blood was put pressure on the bullet wound. You watched as your clothes started becoming a reddish color and tried to breathe regularly, but it was so freaking hard because of the pain.

Wednesday rushed to your side and she immediately moved you to see if you had an exit wound. You didn’t, the bullet was still inside of you and you were pressing it further inside of you. Having known her for a while now you could see a hint of worry in her eyes as she carefully moved your hand to see the wound.

“(Y/N)! What the hell did you do?” She asked with a mix of worry and anger, trying to find ways to prevent more blood from coming out. She couldn’t press on the wound or she would risk hitting some vital organs but at the same time there was nothing much she could do to help you.

“I t-took a bullet for you… I couldn’t just stand there and watch you die” you saw how she tried to keep her composure, but deep down she was going crazy. “Eugene go call for help, NOW!” Wednesday commanded. She was trying so hard not to freak out. You started whimpering more in pain even though you tried to be strong in front of her, but Wednesday could see how much you were in pain. She wanted to take it away from you, she wanted to be at your place because even though she enjoyed so much seeing someone in pain, seeing you in pain no, she couldn’t stand that.

“Wednesday it hurts-“ the pain was becoming unbearable and tears formed in your eyes. You looked at her deep in the eyes, you just wanted to feel her close to you. You slowly felt as strength was slipping out of your body. Wednesday looked at you as you said so, she was slowly starting to lose it: You were the first person she loved, she couldn’t have you die but right now she just had to wait for help to come your way. “I’m right here” Wednesday replied in her unusual soft voice tone, tears forming in her eyes as well as she took a hold of your hand which you held on tight to immediately.

Her free hand went up to your face, she delicately moved away some strands covering your eyes, then she wiped your tears and eventually kept a hand there on your cheek to comfort you. It was just the two of you, so she could afford to do so. You leaned into the touch of the girl you loved as you kept staring deep in her eyes. If you wanted to see one last thing before you die, it would be her.

Your breath was also slowly slipping out from you and you coughed, blood coming out of your mouth which made Wednesday even more worried “I’m tired…” She knew this was a bad sign. The tears she was refusing to let out became even more as she gently hit your cheek because you closed your eyes “No, no you have to keep your eyes open (Y/N)! Open your eyes!” Wednesday’s voice tone was getting even more panicked as she moved you to lay in her lap. You did open your eyes but it was unnoticeable “I l-love you Nes… s-so much…” this was the last sentence before you exhaled your last breath, and you had called her with the nickname she only allowed you to use.

“No you’re not doing this to me! Wake up!” She shook you by your shoulders and even tried slapping your face “(Y/N)! I swear to god if you die I’ll kill you! Even if you live I’ll kill you because you can’t leave me like this” she said, by now panic had taken over her and she couldn’t control her emotions… finally, a couple tears left her eyes and just when help arrived she recomposed herself and dried her tears, hoping no one would see she showed emotions.

She stood aside as she watched you being taken away to the hospital, the doctors trying to reanimate you as they said they heard a heartbeat. Enid ran to Wednesday “Wednesday! Are you okay?” The blonde asked as the brunette in front of her looked at the floor, most specifically at the place you had just bled out on. “You can cry you know..” she talked again. Wednesday looked at her, some tears were still in her eyes and Enid could see that, but she refused to let them go. “She will be okay right?” The brunette asked, back to her normal and emotionless voice tone. She had already explained to Enid why she wouldn’t cry. “We just have to hope she will.”

———

It had been hours by now and Wednesday had gone at the hospital with Xavier, Bianca, Enid, Ajax and everyone else, all of them worried and anxious to hear news about you. Wednesday was the most anxious of them all, she hadn’t sat down once and had been roaming around the waiting room. Her friends knew it was useless to tell her to sit down because of course she wouldn’t.

Eventually the doctor went to them and Wednesday was the first one to go up to him and listen to what he had to say. “She’s fine, but not as fine as we hoped.” The doctor started “and what does that mean?” Xavier was the one to talk, Wednesday even if she didn’t show it, was too shocked to even breath. “The bullet damaged some of her vital organs and we had to pur her in a coma to give her organs time to recover and regenerate the missing parts. Though we expect her to make full recovery within a couple weeks” he said before leaving. Everyone’s eyes turned to Wednesday, who soon walked away from the rest of them to go into the public bathroom. Everyone else told Enid to go check on her.

“Wednesday? Are you okay?” Enid said as she walked in the bathroom. Luckily it was empty and it was just the two of them. “It’s my fault Enid. It’s my fault she’s in this state” the short girl started. The build up of emotions was getting too much even for her “Nes it’s not your fault-“ she interrupted her “don’t call me that! Only she gets to… and yes it’s my fault, I brought this onto the school and I brought this onto her” tears were forming in the brunette’s eyes again. She only trusted Enid and (Y/N) with her emotions.

“Wednesday listen to me!” Enid said, pulling Wednesday out of her shock state as she put both her hands on her shoulders “she’s fine now, sure she needs to get better and wake up, but she’s fine okay? She’s not dying anytime soon. So now just go to her and talk to her. She’s in a coma and she must be scared as hell, she needs you”

For once, Wednesday took her friend’s advice and soon enough she was in your room. Seeing you attached to all of those machines and seeing the painful look on your face didn’t make her feel good at all. However she sat by you, holding your cold, lifeless hand and just like last time, moving some hair out of your face.

That week Wednesday was a mess. She did go to class but she was always thinking of you, she wanted and needed you to be okay, her friends constantly trying to cheer her up, but to no avail. The following week was even worst, until Enid received a call from the hospital saying that (Y/N) had waken up. Of course Wednesday was the first one to go there, and as soon as she entered your room, a wave of relief washed over her as she ran over to you, immediately taking a hold of your hand as her eyes filled with tears again.

“It’s okay to cry, you know” you told her which made her smile slightly, a tear escaping her eyes and rolling down her cheek “why did you do that?” She asked you, meaning why did you take the bullet for her “like I said that day In class, I would take a bullet for the person I love the most. And I love you, so…” you said smiling as you raised your hand up to caress her cheek and wipe the tear that had stained it. “You’re an idiot.” She said snd that made you giggle “wow I save your life and that’s the thank you I get?” You pouted jokingly and looked away from her, crossing your arms.

In that moment a weird atmosphere filled the room, that’s until Wednesday got closer to you and put a delicate hand on your cheek, turning your face to look at her “I love you too, (Y/N)” her voice was very low, only for you to hear. In the next second she closed her eyes and leaned in for a very soft kiss. Her cold, soft lips meeting your warm ones in that sweet action from Wednesday day. Eventually both of you pulled back for air, both your faces so close as the love of your life looked at you with nothing but love and lust with your eyes.

“I should get myself hurt more often if this is what I get next” you said smiling, this was the first time you two kissed and you couldn’t ask for anything better. “Shut up” she told you and sealed your lips in another kiss, just as soft as the other one.

#jenna ortega #wednesday adams x reader #wednesday adams #wednesday addams #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x you #wednesday addams x you #wednesday x reader

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haeroniel-doliet · 2 years

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a bonus thought post for the night!!

on that nostalgia raising feelings train but it derails so it got long so its under a readmore :*

scrolling my old art made me a bit sad and nostalgic (who doesnt get those feelings though doing the same) specifically i really have my heart going out to kid me who got basically no notes on anything. (im not saying i shouldve, art was definitely kid art and questionably tagged etc!) but some i put effort into and it made me so happy to get those 10 likes or whatever. it made me post post and post even what i was working on and unfinished bits (Sure, being me? many of those never got finished bc posting gave the hit of reward chemicals, no response meant no motivation to finish to get more yknow?)

its weird thinking ive now as an adult got a handful of posts with -hundreds- of notes. one over a thousand!! (sure, the really good and popular artists may have thousands but hey they deserve it!!) its weird that i sort of maybe now know what to do to get a reaction out of my prefered niche of the internet. that if i tried w some more consistently, who knows?

im proud of everything in my current art tag. (mostly. no. i am proud shut up brain) i feel slightly like posting more wips. bc i have a ton. surprisingly? ive been drawing way more in the past year than ive been posting (new for me). of course, there is no obligation to post it. why post stuff im not happy with? only to get anxious abt it? sure posting that one teaser when i was actively working on making it better was kinda fun. sure maybe posting some wips would make me go back and finish them bc some of them are good ideas?? but also some are just. theyd make sense to nobody but myself. and why should i share every crevice of my creativity like i used to as an attention craving kid?

my blog is my blog its me, its not a nice art blog its got all my vents and whatever i like to reblog on a given day on it all together. i could make a new tag that feels less like a portfolio to post wips i abandoned or doodles that never went further. it might be nice having them out here. but somehow i feel like id be too embarassed to post them, for my few followers to actually see them. what if i actually tagged them and ppl in tags saw my nonsense doodles? is it worth it? right now my art tag feels like its: dinluke and finished at that ONLY. things that people who come on my blog would like to see perhaps...

hahahhahahha i just crashed my Krita trying to with brash abandon look at all the unposted wips i have at once

turns out i have like. a handful of original works that never got past a rough doodle stage which is fair yknow they were just ideas that could be fleshed out but dont need to. some of them are very personal vent art

ive got a few sketch to tiny doodle to questionable attempt at painting etc bits of the star wars ladies. reminds me that i should branch out in my star wars posting and that drawing women is just way easier and more natural to me why dont i do it more?

ive got a good few fic inspired sketches that never got legs and tbf? theyre olddd now.

ive got like 12 frames of the inktober challenge from last year... in the style of posting 5 at a time, theyve all been sketched out and like half are i think finished. obviously october went long and at some point it just felt weird to post them even if i finished them. i sort of decided if i finish them up early autumn i could get away w posting them for beginning of october while i had a try at the new inktober? idk why i like a challenge to force me to draw more than i do in a year. and then it takes me a year lol. i have a set of 5 that are all inspired by fic, and like. i still like the idea of them. unfortunately? some of the references were old.. A YEAR AGO. sure theres like, the appreciation for vintage and telling ppl we like their work ages on. but i worry the authors no longer are in the fandom or want to be reminded of their work? etc etc. some of them are meh, some i like.

ngl i am especailly happy w my oct 31 post, which i really wish id finished on time for last year. heres to seeing if i post it this year? maybe i’ll finish what i want to finish of them (theres like. 2 im just really not inspired for and never was) and then have a wee collage of them to post, w the oct 31 prompt seperate, as a sort of. hey wip clear out! these are the stragglers from last year :))

maybe ill post original art one day when i get drawn enough to finish one.

ok ok hi welcome indepth to my thought process, bonus thoughts for every thought included. this doesnt need to be on the internet SURE but its a small time capsule for myself ok?

i dont think right now making a doodle tag to post wips is gonna bring me anything but anxiety and feelings of inadequacy i know too well from posting art as a teen. maybe at some point itll help break the barrier and ill just. post shit but it doesnt have to be on my ““portfolio tag”“

i could pick up an wip to finish now, ive got a good few candidates. but i think i should best just, shake off the cobwebs on smth new so i dont feel like im ruining it. it might be a rey or a leia or other star wars heroine portrait. it might be grogu bc hes an already ugly gremlin. it might be something else. i might be talking a high load of shit bc its 3 am again and i should go sleep rather than push myself in delirium. odds are tomorrow im exhausted again, feel like i should do things that actually benefit me in my life and address responsibilites, and shut down under the weight of the thought of it and not do anything until i go crazy at night again? time will tell but rn im stuck in that loop.

perhaps i should never have posted this bc its very long and personal but also? i kinda doubt anyone will read it and thats ok :)) if you are here, hi sorry that you know me better now! uhhh thoughts on the above?

#haeroniel talks #this ramble ran away from me!! it got long sorry #basically im wondering if posting wips as they are would be fun bc i used to do that but concluded itd probably give more anxiety than fun #had a look at said wips in the process and have some thoughts on them #kiss kiss goodnight i should try sleep but the brain is a fun little organ and i process thoughts best verbally (or over text #same thing)

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demonicheadcanons · 3 years

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Can I get the brothers reacting to finding MCs sketchbook and it’s filled with drawings of the demon who picked it up? All of them are masterpieces and some are angsty or sad, others happy, some just them doing mundane things. When confronted, MC just says “Of course I draw you all the time, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen. You’re my muse.” Thank you in advance, if it’s too complicated you can skip.

AN: This cute prompt has been sitting in my inbox for far too long. Thanks for sending this in Nonny <3 I love this idea. I tried to keep each scenario short so I could get this done quickly, as you’ve waited long enough for it. Tried is the key word here ;u;

You’re maybe already dating the boys in these? Or very close? They’re not explicitly romantic but have some affection. I also didn’t make the MC say these exact words, or even anything at all in some of these prompts, but the general feeling is still there. I hope that’s alright!

Lucifer

You left the book behind when studying together, rushing off to meet up with Mammon after you realised you were late and would hear hell for it. He notices it sometime later, too busy relishing on even the short period of time he’d gotten to spend alone with you in relative peace.

He picks it up and, curious, with no worries that you might not really want him to look through it, he flips it open to the first page. He realises what it is right away, and continues to flip through the pages until he gets to a drawing of him. Its such a perfect represention of the moment that he can recall exactly when you must’ve drawn this.

You’d come into his room to have a break from all the noise in the rest of the house, and you had laid on your stomach on his bed and worked away at something as he went through paperwork at his desk. He’d wanted to ask you, at the time, what had you so focused, but he hadn’t wanted to ruin the sight.

He continues to flip through the pages, and frowns slightly for every drawing he sees of one of his brothers, but his lips twitch up every time there’s even a simple doodle of him. He counts, unconsciously, and realises you’ve drawn him more than anyone else. Pride swells in his chest, so very familiar and not at the same time.

He hears the tapping at his door and calls out, immediately, for you to come in. He knows that knock, after all, and you’re one of the few members of the house that he wouldn’t hear coming down the corridor. He leans against the front of his desk, holding your book open in front of him, not bothering to hide the fact that he’d looked through it.

The particular sketch he’s looking at is one where you must’ve been close - you’ve detailed in every long, delicate eyelash, his hair falling in front of his face and his lips slightly parted, only the faintest frown on his face as he focuses hard on his work. He smiles as he tips the book forward, watching as your eyes are drawn to it. To his surprise, you only smile, relieved, raising a hand to your chest.

“Thank goodness, I did leave it here after all.”

You walk over and hop up onto his desk, leaning towards him as you try to see which sketch he’s looking at. He slouches a little more to make you comfortable and shows the sketch.

“You’ve drawn me a lot,” he comments.

“Of course. You’re beautiful, how could I resist?”

He presses a kiss to your temple and rests his head against yours, smiling. He doesn’t often like people commenting on his appearance - he was confident enough about it, knew how he looked, but he didn’t need to hear about it all the time. Still, from you, it didn’t hurt. Especially not if you felt inspired enough by it to draw him.

[[Other brothers are under the read more]]

Mammon

Mammon had burst into your room and you weren’t there. Frustrated by your absence and unsure of when to expect you back, he decides to pick through your stuff. He wasn’t going to steal any of it - he’d been called out by Beel about that, before, and whilst he’d denied it at the time he knew it was true. He’d much rather steal something for you than from you.

The book is open on your desk to a page full of mindless doodles. It piques his curiosity, and he grabs it and sits down, kicking his feet up on top of your desk. It wasn’t like you were there to tell him not to, and you’d left without telling him where you were going so he was going to do whatever he wanted until you got back.

He flicks back to the start of the book, and honestly his first thoughts are about how you could easily sell these drawings for a lot of Grimm. Sketches of the Devildom, of flowers and creatures you couldn’t find in the human realm, of how the Devildom looked all lit up with the moon overhead, from the highest balcony in the RAD building. He’s in awe, mouth a faint ‘o’ shape as he continues to turn page by page.

The first drawing of him makes him freeze up. He was a model, Mammon knew he must be handsome. But he’d never felt it like he did now. In the drawing, he’s sitting on the floor, cushion in his lap as he plays some game on a controller. His expression is somewhere between frustrated and delighted, his hair fluffy and messy because he’d been running his hands through it.

He remembers - you’d been having trouble adapting to the Devildom so he stole- borrowed a console from Levi, but you were too tired to play. He played anyway, hoping that at least watching him would distract you enough, and to convince himself that he was in part doing it for him too and not to entertain some random human.

You walk in and he slams the book shut, but its too late - you’ve seen him holding it. You don’t seem mad about that, though, and instead glare at how he has his feet up on your desk. He adjusts quickly, fumbling as he tries to put on his confident act, walking over to you as he waves the sketchbook in the air.

“What’s this, then? You’ve been drawing me without asking me first?” he asks, teasing lilt falling flat in his voice. His face feels far too warm, as it often does when he’s around you.

“I couldn’t help it. You’re so pretty I just had to.” You shrug, nonchalant. You swipe the book from his hand and sit on your bed, tapping the space beside you. “How far in did you get?”

Mammon pouts as he goes to sit beside you. “Not far.” As he sits beside you, he grabs your sides and pulls you to lay down, holding the sketchbook open up in the air. He’s desperate for some attention right now, but he wanted to keep looking at your art. “Let’s look through the rest together.”

Leviathan

Levi was flustered. You’d been spending time in his room, and he loved your presence but it took him so long to get used to it each time that you stopped in to hang out with him. You’d brought the book you always had with you, and were working away on something, laying on your stomach on the floor with a Ruri-chan plushie in one arm.

He fumbles with his controller and sighs as he misses yet another jump in the game he was trying hard to distract himself with. Every time he glances over, he wants to ask what you’re doing, why you’re here with him when you could easily do your work elsewhere or with any of his brothers, if you were really happy to just sit in his presence like this. His voice dies in his throat and his face flushes when he catches sight of you, so he never does get to ask.

He’d messed up one too many times and was starting to get frustrated when he glanced over and realised you were looking at him, too. Heat floods into his face, and his frustrations die before he can even mumble out his signature ‘this is so unfair’. You smile, going back to your work before dropping your pencil. You wiggle around until you’re sitting, cross-legged, and hold out your sketchbook.

It was a drawing. You’d been drawing, and you’d been drawing him. Levi leans closer hesitantly, wanting to get a better look at it, trying not to think about how giddy and anxious your proud smile made him feel. He works up the courage to take the book out of your hands and looks over the drawing. It takes a long time before he can say anything, too busy focusing on all the little details - how his face is scrunched up from frustration and concentration, how his headphone cord is coiled around his fingers from when he’d been playing with it and hadn’t untangled it fully, how his head was tilted to stop his hair from fully falling in front of his eyes.

“You... its really good, but, I don’t... I’m not this handsome,” he mumbles, face bright red, and he flinches when you laugh.

“You are. More-so, actually, but its hard to capture from this distance.”

Levi can’t respond, just swallows. You sigh, something fond in it, and walk on your knees until you can fall against his side, cuddling up to the Ruri-chan plushie.

“Look through the other drawings. I only draw what I find beautiful. That’s why I drew you.”

His smile is faint, but its enough. He’s hearing your words, even if they’re hard to process for him. He relaxes and flips back to the front page, ready to look at the rest of your work with you.

Satan

Books were commonplace in his room. They were part of the furniture - quite literally, as they were piled up everywhere, even on top of his bed, although he’d made an effort to stop putting them there so long as you were spending time with him, so that you had somewhere comfortable to sit or lay whilst you were reading.

And yet, he always noticed when one was out of place, or when a new book had joined his collection without his knowing. Sometimes this happened because his brothers had found something interesting but weren’t willing to say aloud that it had reminded them of him, or that they bought it because he might enjoy it, so they’d simply popped into his room and added it to a stack. It was normal at this point.

That’s why he didn’t question it when there was a new book left on his bed, and when he didn’t hesitate to lay down and open it up, curious as to what story one of his brothers had left for him this time. Instead, he’s met with drawings. Amazing drawings of the Devildom, of his brothers... and of him.

There are notes, as well, few and far between, that allow him to place this as being your book. He knew that scrawl. He felt guilty to look through your sketchbook without your permission, but now that he’d already opened it, he was too curious to leave it be. He’d be honest about it later and deal with the consequences then, or joke about how you’d been drawing him without his permission so you were equal now.

The drawings were beautiful, more detailed that he’d seen for casual doodles left in a book without being shown to the subjects in them. He takes his time to look over each page carefully, each drawing filling his heart with something foreign, sweet and sticky like berry pie. He spends extra time focusing on each drawing of himself, wonders how and why you’d made him look so soft. It was hard for him to get portraits done as his presence could invoke anger in others and leave harsh and angry lines and brush strokes on the canvas, but clearly he didn’t have that same influence on you - instead, each drawing of him was more delicate than any of the others, like you’d put more effort in.

Satan returns it to you later, a smile on his face. He does apologise immediately, for looking at the drawings without your permission.

“Its alright. I’m just glad you found it for me.” You’re completely cheery, not bothered at all, and Satan sighs in relief.

“You’ve drawn me quite a lot,” he notes.

“Well obviously. I spend the most time with you,” you say, smiling when you catch the faint pout he covers up. That wasn’t what he had expected or wanted you to say, clearly. Nor was it all you had to say on the matter. “Also, you’re very beautiful. I wanted to try and capture that and keep a little for myself.”

He smiles now, content, and pats you on the head. “If you want me around, you only have to ask.”

Asmodeus

You’d been working away at something as he picked out an outfit and fixed his hair, and he’d been dying to ask but he just needed to adjust a few more strands first - you were going out to Majolish together and he wanted to look perfect. He always did, of course, but when the two of you were going out together he put in even more effort than usual.

When he finally finishes, he jumps up out of his chair and rushes over to you.

“How do I look?” he asks, beaming, full of confidence as always.

“Fabulous,” you say, reaching out to readjust a few strands of hair that had fallen out of place from his quick movements. He sits down on his bed beside you and pulls you up until you’re sitting beside him, hugging you around your waist.

“What were you doing whilst you were waiting? You looked so focused, it was adorable~” Asmo chirps, looking pointedly at the sketchbook. His eyes widen in genuine surprise. “Wait, is that me?”

You nod, lifting your sketchbook up so that the two of you could see it properly. You’d been drawing him, just little sketches as he flitted about the room doing this and that to get ready. You couldn’t have spent long on each one, and yet they captured him perfectly. He looked elegant in each, determined and beautiful.

You flicked back to the previous page before he could comment, and Asmo’s breath caught in his throat. This drawing was him, it was so brilliant an example of everything that he was. He was looking at you and smiling, and you’d captured the love and admiration in his eyes so perfectly he wondered if this was somehow a photograph.

Asmo tears up and hugs you tighter, burying his face against your neck. You can feel him smile wide against your skin. He stays like that for only a moment before his excitement bubbles up to the surface and he litters your cheek, nose, and forehead with feather-light kisses. He’d do anything for the one who saw him as he was.

Beelzebub

Beel had a pretty normal schedule for each day - he’d exercise, go to school, spend time with you and Belphie or his other brothers if they were around and alright with it, and of course, he’d eat quite a lot. You had a good idea of where he’d be throughout the day, and when you had the time for it, you’d accompany him so he wasn’t alone. Whether that meant sitting on the counter as he dug through the fridge, or laying on the sofa with your head in his lap and your feet in Belphie’s, you just liked to spend time with him.

And, a lot of the time, he noticed you had this little book with you. He’d caught you glancing at him many times, but didn’t think anything of it. He glanced at you a lot, too, so maybe it was only to be expected. He’d gotten used to the butterflies in his stomach when you two randomly linked eyes and you grinned, twirling your pencil around in your hand.

A lot of your time was spent together in relative silence, as well, and he was accustomed to hearing your pencil scratch against the paper. But he never asked what you were doing, because if you wanted to tell him you would. He trusted you to do that. And his trust paid off, when you were both watching a show together.

He notices early on that you're paying more attention to him than the screen, and when the episode finishes you tap him gently on the shoulder before stretching out your wrists. He looks to you, tilting his head in curiosity until you hold the book open in front of him.

It was a drawing of him, focused on the screen, odd lighting casting shadows against his form. He had something in his hand, some sort of food, but you’d put more attention into actually drawing him. So much attention that he was sure no matter how long he looked, there would always be something more to notice.

“Its me?” he asks, unsure lilt in his voice. He looks bashful, like he’s done something wrong. “Why?”

You stretch out your arms again, thinking, and finally answer, “Because you looked beautiful, and I wanted to draw you?”

It was neither easy nor hard to make Beel blush, and most of the time it just seemed to happen. You hadn’t caught onto the pattern yet, hadn’t been able to perfect it so that you could make it happen whenever you wanted. But you smile in silent victory now as his ears and cheeks flush a reddish pink, pairing nicely with his wide eyes.

His surprise gives way to a smile, and he leans over to wrap his arms around you, holding you close. All he can manage is a thank you, but with that you know how much he appreciates it, how much he appreciates you.

Belphegor

Belphie would often drag you off to the attic, and whilst he enjoyed the times where you would curl up in his arms and nap with him until you absolutely had to get up, he knew he couldn’t expect that of you constantly. You were still human, and you could only sleep so much before you had to get up to stretch or eat or just do something else to occupy your mind.

You’d built up a habit together, now, where if you wanted to get up you’d tap his arm twice and he’d reluctantly let you go. He’d stay awake if you left the room, just enough so that he’d be able to tell when you returned. If you didn’t, he’d have to go seek you out again by himself to drag you back with him and absolutely not just to make sure you were okay. If you did return, he’d go back to sleep and let you do what you wanted, opening his arms up if you tapped on them again to crawl back into his grip. It was peaceful, and though he never said it aloud, he loved it.

Often times, when he did wake up, you’d be sitting nearby in a little bundle of pillows and blankets that you’d made with a book and pencil in hand. You were quick to notice when he woke up, so Belphie could never just watch you to figure out what you were doing, which frustrated him to no end but at the same time it was nice to be known. Still, he was determined to figure it out.

His determination is unnecessary, because one day he wakes up and you’re looking straight at him, smiling contentedly. He woke up too fast, then, heart pounding as he tried to remember that expression. Did you admire him so much to look at him like that, even when he was just sleeping?

“You’re awake,” you say, voice light and cheery.

“And you were watching me sleep, as always,” Belphie scoffs, pulling the blanket up over his face to cover up his blush. “What’s new?”

You pout and stick out your tongue at him, and he lowers the blanket enough to return the gesture. It was hard to remember just how old he was when he acted like that.

“With good reason,” you tell him. He raises an eyebrow, and you smile and hold out your sketchbook. He takes it immediately, trying to act nonchalant as he opens it up and flicks through the pages. You barely catch how his eyes widen, how his breath catches and he slows down, taking in each drawing carefully.

“There are... a lot of drawings, of me sleeping,” Belphie says, swallowing, raising the book enough to try to cover his smile. Too late, you think. You’d caught him.

“You look cute like that. Plus, its the only time you sit still enough for me to draw you.”

“Or you’re just that obsessed with me. Weirdo.” He closes the book and hands it back to you, sitting up to stretch. He keeps his eyes on you, notices when you frown the tiniest bit. Was his teasing too much?

He sighs and slides out of bed, sitting in your pile beside you. He leans against you, like a cat looking for attention without wanting to admit it, and takes your hand in his, playing with your fingers.

“Thanks, MC.”

#surprise request! i felt like writing and it just all kind of flowed out with this one #Anonymous #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #my headcanons #my writings #fluff #i had a lot of fun writing this ashdashj even tho i only did bc i couldnt sleep ;u;

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imjeralee · 3 years

Note

i request that you drink plenty of water and take care of yourself !!! ·o·b after thats done, came i pretty please get headcanons with link, Kaeya and maybe Childe about an s/o who draws them one day as a confession and gives it to them? :) (maybe they already knew and saw them drawing them before ? who knows) thank you in advance!!

Thank you anon! *looks at cup of green tea beside laptop* yep I think i’m doing well in keeping myself hydrated recently hehe but thank you :3

Anyway please see below for the ask! (it’s pretty long)

Link

He was grooming one of the ponies when he saw you standing behind a tent peeking at him curiously and when he turned round properly, you quickly scampered away and he got worried so he followed you to the room you share to see you sitting on the bed with a wine red book propped up in your lap but upon his return, you immediately hid it behind your back, smiling widely at him

He wonders what it was but decides not to pry, but he later discovers it was actually a sketchbook when he’s packing up for tomorrow and you’re taking a bath and the sketchbook drops out of your pack and onto the floor, opening at a random page

He picks it up with the intention to return it to your bag but then he sees the various drawings of him in his Ancient Armour set, Hylian and Snowquill set. They’re fully coloured and it looks like you’ve spent hours on them. He didn’t know you were this artistic and wondered why you hid this from him

The date you wrote on the bottom of the page indicates that you drew all this in one day! He’s super impressed

Then he sees the note you wrote below: “To my Dearest Link, I hope you like my drawings of you. All I can think about is how lucky I am to be able to be by your side, you’ve changed my life for the better and-”

Obv half complete so now he knows why you didn’t want to show him and he respects your privacy, so he puts the sketchbook away

Outside, he sees Beedle and goes over to see what’s new for sale. Beedle has some cool art stuff (well, it’s more like stuff that can be used for dye but can also be used as paint) so he buys some for you as a present which he will give to you later.

Next day, you get chased by a group of Bokogoblins and the book and all your drawing supplies drops out from your bag.

You didn’t see it drop and returned to the stable, ransacking your bag like crazy only to find your stuff missing

When you realise everything must have dropped out when you got chased, you quickly leave the stable to go back to the area but it’s thunder and lightning so Link chases after you

“Link, what are you doing? Go back, the weather’s awful.” You tell him but he shakes his head, unable to leave you alone in the rain like this

He helps you with your search and you end up locating your book and your supplies which are lying in the mud

The book has been trampled over and some of the pages have been torn out. The remaining pages are soaked with dirt and grime. Your pencils are snapped in half and your paints have been left to bleed all over the grass. All of your drawings are ruined, too. This is your worst nightmare.

Link observes you silently as tears begins to form in your eyes and you look at him, sniffling slightly.

You’re experiencing a mixture of devastation, frustration, anger and exasperation - from your carelessness to the stupid bokogoblins - and this incident infuriates you so much you throw the book to the ground angrily

Before you can march away, Link grabs your wrist

Turning round, your gazes meet and he looks at you softly, intently.

‘What’s wrong?’ he is saying.

“I was going to use those to confess to you!” you end up roaring out by accident.

Link looks at you, a little stunned

“N-Never mind! Everything’s ruined!!!!”

You’re about to storm off again when Link suddenly pulls you into his chest and gives you a hug

“!” you’re so shocked you can’t speak

He pulls away though, and leads you to the hollow of a nearby tree trunk where he gestures for you to sit down to shelter from the rain whilst he glances around, then sprints back over to where the ruined sketchbook is

He picks it up and holds it against his chest as if it’s dear to him. That’s not all, you watch as he begins to pick up the remaining pages that were torn out and once he’s collected them all he returns to you, clutching the pages tightly

"Link...” you murmur breathlessly as he he kneels down in front of you before he fishes around in his pockets to reveal a random bunch of paint pots in his hand.

You’re a little confused, but realise he has some spares which he must have bought from a merchant

it’s not much but...

he nudges it to you for your offering

You gawp at him for a few moments before you smile and chuckle and upon seeing you back to your usual self again, Link smiles and helps you back onto your own feet to stand

You thank him as you cradle the paints to yourself. You will need to restart from scratch from somehow it feels ok and something tells you you don’t need to hide it from him anymore

And you return to the stable, sheltering from the rain by sharing a large leaf together

Kaeya

Let’s begin with the fact that alongside you, there is a maid who also likes Kaeya as much as you do and she’s a bit of a sneaky bugger and you don’t show your drawings to anyone or watermark your artwork until they’re complete. You can probably see where this is going

One day, Kaeya finds out you are drawing a picture of him when he comes to your office to inform you that there’s a group of abyss mages outside Mondstadt so you hurry off to dispatch it and leaving Kaeya in your office

He accidentally comes across your drawing when he sees his face on a piece of parchment and his interest is piqued so he heads over to check it out

It’s a really good sketch!!! the amount of detail is insane! he had no idea you possessed such skill and who knew that you could create such beautiful art like this? He also finds some rough doodles and sketches you made earlier on some scrap paper you had also written on so he knows it’s you

Anyway, he puts everything back to join you in battle, but not before passing a maid along the way who is heading to your room to clean up

She comes across your drawing and she’s always fancied Kaeya herself, so for some reason other than just thinking she might be able to get away with it if she’s sneaky enough, she takes your drawing and sets off with it

Meanwhile, you return to your room after the battle, take off your coat and sit comfortably in your chair, reaching for your quill

“Ah, time to get back to my drawing of Kaeya.” you say with a smile, looking at your desk.

Wait a minute.

Something is wrong.

Very wrong.

It’s GONE!

After checking the rest of your office (and its clearly not there), you rush outside, wondering what happened to it when you see Kaeya and a maid talking in the corridor

they didn’t see you, so you quickly hide

“Please accept this, captain Kaeya!” gushes the maid, presenting your drawing to him. “I drew this picture of you to show how much you mean to me.”

What in the Samachurl shit is this?

You’re about to storm over when Kaeya takes the drawing with a delicate brow raised, studies it intently and goes, “Oh? But I’m not so sure about that.”

“W-what do you mean, Captain Kaeya?”

“There’s no watermark on it,” he points out, “....one could’ve taken anyone’s artwork and claim that it’s theirs.”

“T-That’s - ! Ah, Captain Kaeya, h-how could you think so lowly of me?”

“I’m only just stating some simple facts, that’s all. You won’t hold that against me, will you? And I’m certainly not accusing you of anything...unless you...?”

“Oh....uh....I...I-I’m so sorry, Captain Kaeya, you’re right! I-I....please excuse me!”

The maid’s too embarrassed to proceed any further and leaves, running away.

Indeed, what in the samachurl hell had just happened?

It goes quiet and you wonder if he’s still there; you step out of your hiding place only to go nose-to-chest with Kaeya.

He greets you with a smirk. “if it isn’t the little kitten, what are you doing here?”

“Um...uh, I....that....that drawing - “

What he said is right, there’s no watermark. How can you prove it’s yours? Would he believe you if you told him?

“Hm? Ah, yes, this drawing. I was going to keep it for myself.”

“No, wait! I mean...er...it’s not finished yet-”

“So you drew this then?”

“Yes, I did. it was me.” Though you wonder if he would believe you after everything you had just heard.

“Why?”

You lamely tell him you really like him and wanted to use it to confess to him.

He watches you for a few seconds, then hands the drawing to you. “I’ll wait until you’ve finished then.”

“Huh?” You gasp. He gave it back to you so easily despite what he said to the maid! “You...you’re not-”

“I knew it was you who drew it. I recognised your style.”

“Then why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“If I said so earlier, how else would I get you to confess to me?”

“KAEYA!!!”

(from then on he’ll want you to draw him more often)

Childe

Saw you sitting on the grassy hill near Qingxu Pool drawing earlier and because he is good at sneaking up on people, you didn’t hear him as he casually leaned over to peek over your shoulder and said, “Hey girlie, what’re you up to?”

You’re like “UWAGH!” and quickly close your sketchbook before turning round to see Childe.

“N-nothing!” you exclaim, before you get up and run down the hill, leaving a very amused Childe on his own

Later, when you’ve finished your masterpiece, you nervously approach Childe and tell him, “Um....this is for you, let me know what you think.” before rushing off in a blushing mess and Childe will open the sketchbook to see that you’ve drawn a very nice portrait of him in a battle stance, wielding his bow, surrounded by his hydro blades

Childe stands, staring at the picture

Then he sees the words ‘do you like me?’ scribbled at the very bottom

Childe staring hard now

He’s used to giving people gifts but now that he’s received something so thoughtful, he’s a bit overwhelmed. he can tell you put so much effort and hardwork into this. Ah, what is this feeling?

He closes the book without further ado and scrubs a hand over his face

he actually wasn’t expecting you to do this. he knew you were drawing him but the result is really....something else

You don’t hear him from Childe in a few days and you are so nervous and worried.

Is this a rejection? Maybe he didn’t like your picture after all...

You’re walking in the streets and sigh and sit on the stone steps of Liyue, staring at the sea, upset and dejected

But then you hear a whistle from behind and throw a glance over your shoulder to see Childe standing on a higher step, a hand in his pocket

“Hey girlie, heads up,” he tosses a paper plane into the air which makes this little loop before you stand to catch it

Looking up, Childe has gone

You unfold the paper plane to its proper size to reveal that Childe’s drawn a little sketch of you in return and he has written: ‘Yes I do’.

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jaeminzie · 4 years

Text

lover boy | n.jm

↳ na jaemin x gender neutral!reader

synopsis: jaemin’s best friend, donghyuck, overhears you and your best friend talking about your big phat crush on jaemin. and of course, hyuck just had to tell him.

genre: lowkey fluff and hyuck being annoying hehe

word count: 1,758

“god did you see him today?” i gushed over the boy, who i’ve been crushing on since middle school, to my best friend as we were walking down the school hallway, trying to find our way through the big crowd of students. “he just looks so good in that beanie.”

“y/n, when will you ever get over your crush on him,” my friend sighed. “plus, he’s too much of a fuckboy to treat you right.” i bit my bottom lip slightly while letting out a deep breath through my nose. “i know.” i replied.

it sucked. the crush started when we were seated next to each other in 6th period world history class in 7th grade. at first, i would dread going to that class because all jaemin did was doodle on my paper, ask me what we’re doing in class every five minutes, and step on my shoes just to annoy me. then gradually, i began to laugh with him and i was actually able to have proper conversations with him without rolling my eyes or scoffing at every other word that would come out of his mouth. my crush for him naturally unfolded but i was such in denial for the first couple months.

it wasn’t until i started to notice that he would sit with lonely kids at lunch even though his friends would tease him about it, he would just call them off and tell them to ‘fuck off,’ which was when i began to accept it. i then noticed that he did try in class even if he didn’t understand something, he wouldn’t feel ashamed to ask for help or stay after class just to fully understand the lesson.

he even asked me to tutor for him one time, but i thought he was joking so i made fun of him and turned him down. i mentally slap myself still for doing that to him. he must think i’m a bitch now.

well now, we’re juniors in high school and my crush for him has only gotten bigger throughout time. unfortunately, we don’t talk no more. we don’t even greet each other when we see each other in the hallways. i doubt he even remembers me.

“i just can’t help but believe he’s actually a sweet guy,” i tried to reason with my friend but it was no point.

“jaemin?! sweet?? babe, there’s absolutely no way,” my best friend said a little too loudly and laughed at me as if i was being delusional. and maybe i was.

“can you please shut up! i thought we promised to use code names when we’re in public.” i whispered harshly.

“pleeeaaasee, nearly everyone in this damn school has a crush on jaemin. you’ll be fine, y/n, you’re not special.” my friend tried to tease me to lighten the mood but we were interrupted by a loud intentional cough behind us.

i didn’t look back because why would i? my nosy friend did tho. they looked back for a millisecond then faced me with regret and fear written all over their face. mouthing the words, “don’t kill me.”

i didn’t have time to question them on what was going on since a tall boy with honey skin and brown parted hair made room for himself between us and hooked his arms around our shoulders.

“na jaemin huh, y/n?” donghyuck, one of jaemin’s greatest friends since childhood, faced me and his shit eating grin was so clear in broad daylight. “i did not expect that at all.” he chuckled at my red face.

“how much did you hear,” i asked him, now getting really irritated and was ready to deck him.

“literally all of it, you guys are really shameless talking about crushes so fucking loudly in this crowded hallway.” his arms still on us and he was walking sluggishly, of course his smirk was still there. “i can do you a favor, y/n, by telling your lover boy.”

“you better not!” my friend yelled at him for me. “look, this is my fault ‘kay. don’t do y/n like that.”

donghyuck fake pouted. “what’s the fun in that? i think jaemin would be fond of the surprising news honestly.”

my stomach churned at the last sentence but the feeling immediately went away when i remembered who was talking. donghyuck was infamous for being a teasing bastard so no one takes him seriously. “dude, seriously just get out of here.” i said.

“if you please, babe.” he snickered and took his arms off of us and walked away.

“oh my god, i am so sorry y/n. oh my god, i’ll treat you lunch after school. please forgive me. i should’ve kept our promise. are you mad? please don’t be mad, but you have every right to be if you are.” my friend rambled on as we finally made it to our class.

“y/f/n, it’s fine. really, it’s fine. you didn’t know and honestly, i don’t care anymore. maybe, this will help me get rid of my crush on him.” i shrugged it off like it was nothing to avoid worrying my friend, but inside, i was losing it.

what if donghyuck actually tells him? will jaemin makes fun of me? is he going to give me dirty looks now? at least now, he’ll notice me. ugh, he’ll be confused as to why the girl who was a bitch to him in middle school likes him. karma.

i took a deep breath in attempt to calm myself down. he wouldn’t act that way. he’s a nice guy, i know he is deep down.

the conversation me and my best friend had with donghyuck earlier in the day still stayed on my mind all day. i avoided all the routes i’d take around the school where i’d usually see jaemin walking around. i kept my head down while walking down the halls. i tried my best to avoid him, even though on regular days, i’d try my best to ‘bump’ into him.

the last class of the day was near. i was walking up the flight of empty stairs peacefully, trying to get to class even though, i’d rather be at home under my bed sheets trying to forget today.

“y/n,” a painfully familiar presence was behind me. jaemin stood a couple stair steps behind, his hands in his pockets of his baggy pants. i turned around slowly and admired him the second i saw his figure. his beanie fitted his head so well, a couple hair strands were sticking out. i could see his silver chain that stayed beneath his orange hoodie slightly. he stood there with confidence radiating. “hey,” he avoided eye contact but he was wearing a smile.

“hi,” i couldn’t keep my eyes off of him. he was just so nice to look at. his cheeks slightly tinted pink and i could see his fingers fiddling in his pockets. i decided to suck up my pride and just be straight forward as i couldn’t handle the painfully awkward silence no more. “if.. you’re here because of donghyuck then just forget about it please. i’m sorry about that.” he finally looked me in the eyes after i finished talking and i was surprised that i was able to maintain the eye contact. my face grew hot immediately.

“why are you apologizing?”

i honestly didn’t know. i just can’t imagine how awkward he feels right now because of me. “i just hope you don’t feel obligated to talk to me because of what happened. it was stupid. i’m just. sorry. i guess.” i was preparing myself for the rejection but jaemin’s puppy eyes made me second guess that.

“god you really are oblivious.” he sighed. “i know hyuck can be an asshole at times but he wouldn’t embarrass anyone like how you think he’s done to you by telling me about- uh.. your crush.”

i was so confused. my mouth was open but nothing came out.

my breathing hitched when he slowly started to walk up the stairs and was now so much closer to me. “tell me, is it true?” his voice was a lot quieter and softer. “you’ve liked me for that long?”

i gulped. not knowing if i should lie or not. but god, he already knows because of donghyuck so might as well just go for it. i nodded.

a big smile creeped onto his face. my eyebrows furrowed. is this entertaining to him? my misery and embarrassment is entertaining to him? i was just about ready to get out of there and flip him off for making me feel like this but he trapped me between his body and the wall behind me.

“y/n, have you not been noticing how i look at you? since 7th fucking grade, i’ve always been putting an effort to just see you for even a second outside of class.” his breath fanned my face. “i like you too if it wasn’t obvious enough.”

clearly it wasn’t.

before i could even process anything, he gently put our lips together. his slightly chapped lips fit so perfectly with my soft lips. he hummed as he tasted the strawberry flavored chapstick on my lips. his hands were placed on the wall, while mine were gripping his purple pullover tightly.

my mind and heart were racing. what the hell is going on? is this real?

he didn’t move his lips at all. it was a simple but meaningful kiss. “i like you too.” i whispered, looking into his brown eyes, slowly releasing my grip on his pullover.

he laughed at me. “you’re cute.” he walked back, allowing me to have room to move. “how about i take you out this friday?” he smiled at me. “only if you want to.”

“of course i want to.” i rolled my eyes playfully and smiled back.

his smile grew bigger, i didn’t know that was possible. “perfect. i’ll see you later.” he went closer to me and cupped my jaw and kissed my heated pink cheeks. his other hand placed something inside my tan cardigan pocket.

he pulled away and right before he left, he had to say, “also, can you change your chapstick flavor? i don’t really like strawberries.” he flashed me a bright smile and left.

i shook my head smiling uncontrollably, not believing what had just happened. i put my hand into my pocket and saw what he had slipped in there.

a note.

call me when you get home. 283-xxx-xxxx <3 we should catch up :)

-your lover boy

#na jaemin #jaemin #jaemin fluff #na jaemin fluff #nct fluff #nct dream fluff #nct #jaemin imagine #jaemin scenario

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

handmaid - 12

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, anxiety

A/N: hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N stood in her bedroom considering Daniel’s words. Clueless. God, the word itself stung coming from someone she had grown to see as a big brother. Clueless. Well, sure, she did not exactly know what happened behind closed doors with both the Stan family and Forrest family business but neither did Daniel, or at least as well as he bragged to know. She had heard both families were cruel but in all honesty, she just couldn’t imagine any of the heads of both families being those monsters people spoke of. She specially could not imagine Sebastian to be the monster Dan wanted to paint him, no. He had kind eyes, he didn’t have the type of darkness that she had seen in various other lesser associates, he had peaceful ones like the sea after a storm. Besides, Y/N liked to consider herself a good judge of character so maybe Dan was just being overprotective.

Annoyed, she huffed, turning on her side with her phone on her hand as she searched for the contact she wanted to call. She took her phone up to her ear, hearing the dialling tone for what felt for ages until the familiar operator voice came through. The number you have dialled is unavailable, please leave your message at the sound of the tone.

- Hi Sebastian, it’s Y/N. I just ... I just wanted to check on you, to see if you’re alright. Give me a call when you can. Okay ... bye.

She sighed, throwing her phone to the side table before getting under her duvet, her mind finally getting time to wrap around what had happened days prior. Why didn’t she feel guilty she had kissed a very engaged man? She always thought that cheating was a terrible thing to do to someone yet right now all she could think about was that maybe ... maybe she would be able to do it again. It wasn’t right but he was just so electric, magnetic even and his words echoed in her mind like a drum ... I’m here for you, no one can harm you.

Sure, she had protection at most times considering Elias and Christian, whenever not in Gwen’s bedroom, were constantly around ensuring that no one got in or out of the house without permission or reason to do. However, protection from Sebastian sounded ... sweeter, warmer even. No man had ever told her they were there for her, much less they would fight their own wife for her (this mostly due to her preference at avoiding married men). It was unfair, very unfair that the very first time she felt seen and protected ... maybe even fully appreciated was by someone she just couldn’t have.

As her mind raced through various excuses as to why she kissed the mob boss, the sleepless nights caught up to her and soon she found herself surrounded by the familiar darkness of slumber. She woke up once again with the sun beams cutting through her window and decided that maybe right now what she needed was a good amount of food.

Going down the stairs, the familiar sight of Amelia in the kitchen preparing a fresh brew of coffee made her sleepily smile. This was the normality and home life she needed after all of Paris’ events.

- Good morning, Miss Y/N. How was Paris? - she turned on the kettle at the sight of the handmaid to prepare her favourite infusion.

- Paris was lovely. - she smiled softly, not pulling too much at the skin of her cheeks as she sat on the high chairs. - Do you think I could have some grilled cheese this morning?

- You can have whatever you want, Miss Y/N. It is always a pleasure to cook for you. - Y/N couldn’t help but smile wider at that statement. It felt nice to have someone to talk to who wasn’t about to married to a mob boss, a mob boss, associates or bodyguards. - You look different.

- How so? - she raised an eyebrow at the statement. Oh god, had Gwen discovered she kissed her husband to be and cut her hair in disdain?

- I don’t know ... there’s a spring in your step, you look very happy. Might there be someone in Paris? - yeah, sure, he is in Paris, he’s just not her someone, he’s Gwen’s. - Maybe it’s the European air.

- Maybe ... You wouldn’t know when Mr. Stan is coming back, would you?

- I don’t know, Miss. Mr. Stan shows up when he wants, never leaves a message, he’s just like his father in that sense.

- Did you know his father? - Y/N had never actually known his father but from what she heard from Gwen he was a tall, stern man who managed to put fear and respect in everyone’s hearts without giving it much of a try.

- Just between us both Miss Y/N, I am very glad he only resembles his father in that sense. No man should be that comfortable with death and power and not fear it all the time. - she shrugged, flipping the sandwich on the skillet. - If I must say, I think Mr. Stan is much more like his mother. I’ve always said this house needed another kind woman after she left.

- I just can’t picture it. - Y/N didn’t exactly knew who Sebastian’s mother was. In all honesty, not a lot of people knew and Sebastian wasn’t one for big speeches about his family. However, she had always pictured him as being much more like his father, a powerful man. - He doesn’t really talk about his family.

- What about you, Miss Y/N? What about your parents?

- Oh ... - she toyed with the chain of her necklace, slightly bitting her lip. - I don’t really know. Mr. Forrest told me my father was one of his workers, never told me much about my mother either. They died shortly after I was born.

- I’m very sorry, Miss Y/N. - Amelia slid her the grilled cheese on a nice porcelain plate. - I’m sure that they would be very proud of creating such a nice, beautiful lady.

- Thank you, Amelia.

- Oh ... good morning, Mr. Daniel. - she pipped up and Y/N rolled her eyes, not in the mood to speak with Daniel after last night’s events. He, however, had other plans as he sat right next to her.

- Good morning, Y/N.

- Good morning, Daniel. - she slid away from him.

- Oh c’mon, you’re not gonna sulk at me are you? - he poked her arm with one of the forks that had been laid out to him. - You know I’m sorry.

- You’re always sorry but you never actually say it. - Y/N huffed, grabbing her plate from the table and walking up to the sink. Dan sighed, knowing that, despite her being generally a kind and forgiving woman, whenever she was upset, she just remained upset for a while before forgetting it. However, this could take ages.

Y/N decided she was still not ready to deal with Daniel or any of his opinions towards her view of the people she surrounded herself with. In all honesty, she had no time to worry about him or what he thought of her as her mind was filled with worry towards Sebastian. She knew he was notoriously hard to harm or even shot at however she hadn’t gotten a reply to her call and knew nothing of when he was about to return.

The days passed by and Daniel had managed to somehow get Y/N to get less mad at him by taking her to see his daughter. Sophie had been born while he was at university and Y/N had grown very attached to the little girl as she had been at home with Gwen when she was born. However, not even young Sophie could take her mind away from Sebastian. Her brain had quit making her feel guilty about the fact she had kissed the man who was to marry the only friend she ever knew and had instead turned all its efforts into making her picture all the horrific things that could happen to him. She knew it was reckless and pointless to worry about him, he clearly seemed to be invisible at what he did and part of her pitied the poor unfortunate souls who had dared to shot at him.

Those days turned into weeks and as the third week hit mark, she was absolutely unconsolable. Gwen was not much help. In actuality, the heiress was rather happy that her fiancé wasn’t around as this gave her plenty of free time to do what she wanted with her newly found interest in her private bodyguard, Christian. Meanwhile, Y/N had taken to spending her days in the kitchen with Amelia and in the library, but not even that could take her mind off if he was alright despite Amelia and Elias constantly telling her it was normal of Sebastian to disappear and then suddenly return.

Nevertheless, Y/N was anxious about his fate, spending most of the night sat by the window, listening as the rain fell down on the bright city that never slept. This was one of those nights where her fingers lingered on the fogged rainy windows, lightly doodling. This quickly grew tired-some and, wrapped around in one of the very expensive white cashmere blankets Sebastian had placed around the house, she went down the stairs and into the kitchen. Mindlessly, like a movement so familiar it didn’t need her attention, Y/N put some almond milk, cinnamon and honey in a pot and brought it up to the heat before taking to slowly mix it with a wooden spoon.

The sound of the bubbling milk and rain was enough to make her feel like every corner of the world was home and as she poured the mixture into a mug, she softly smiled at the overview of New York from the countless amount of ceiling length windows. It almost made her forget her worries. Almost. The heart warming atmosphere was interrupted by the ring of the lift that gave way into the entrance of the penthouse. Y/N turned around abruptly, the sight bringing a sparkle to her eyes. Placing the mug on the first surface she came in contact with, she rushed to the entrance, wrapping her arms around the mob boss as if they had been separated for over 10 years.

- Night, angel. - Sebastian was tired and that was noticeable by the dark bags under his eyes and his dishevelled appearance. However, he could surely get used to having Y/N wrap her arms around him every time he came home. Y/N, on the other hand, came to her senses and stepped back, feeling the heat coming to her cheeks.

- We were worried about you. - she shifted her weight from feet to feet.

- Who’s we, angel? I’d gather we would mean you. - his hand traced down her forearm to her hand, softly holding it on his. - I’m sorry I didn’t answer your message, I didn’t want to lie to you as to when I’d be back. Besides, I assumed Gwen would enjoy a holiday from me.

- You could’ve said something. - she rubbed the side of her neck, eyes fixated on the ground. - I was worried.

- Ah ... - he smirked, taking a step forward. - You were worried. That was what I wanted to hear.

- Well, I ... I just wanted to know so I could warn Gwen. I shouldn’t bother you anymore, you must want to rest. I can fix you something to eat if you want.

- You’re not the housemaid, Y/N. Although something smells really good in here.

- Oh ... - Y/N rushed into the kitchen, turning off the hob and bringing the pot back to one of the metal bases in the kitchen. - It’s just something me, Gwen, and Dan used to have when we were little and couldn’t sleep.

- What’s wrong? - Sebastian noticed the shift in her tone.

- Do you think I’m clueless? - she leaned onto the kitchen’s wall.

- Why do you ask?

- Dan seems to think I’m clueless.

- Daniel Forrest? - he asked and Y/N nodded. - What does he know of the world to make assumptions?

- He’s sort of right. - Y/N took a place on the chair next to his. - I don’t exactly know what Mr. Forrest or you do, specifically. I don’t even know what you were up to these past weeks.

- It’s entirely way too boring besides I’d rather be surrounded by clueless people than the ones I’m surrounded by. You really shouldn’t worry about what he thinks of you.

- Do you worry what others think of you?

- I’ve lived long enough to have certain names hauled at me. Some deserving, some undeserving but I tend not to stress about it. My mother used to say people like to talk about those they can’t be.

- Well, if it’s any worth .. I don’t think half the names I’ve heard given to you do actually have any truth to them.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld @sarge-barnes-sir @captainchrisstan

#sebastian stan #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan/you #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan/y/n #mob boss!sebastian stan #mob!sebastian stan #mobster!sebastian stan #mafia!sebastian stan

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ayzashl · 4 years

Text

Pairing: Shoto Todoroki x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Crack (i think)

Also um, im new to these so sorry for possible gramatical errors or typos (i dont double check bc I literally was bored doing this and just, decided to share it on tumblr lmao)

Disclaimer, I made this out of boredom because I was thinking about exams and stuff and was wondering about how my husbando would react about my situation, having placed on high ranks barely putting efforts towards studying lmao (Not rlly bragging im sorry if it came out as bragging :((, i jusy rlly be curious and hopefully I portrayed it like how I expected for him to react, sorry im new to writing bc I mainly draw🌚👉👈)

***

It was already sunset. The hues of yellow, orange and red envelops the dorms of U.A high school, its gradient tinting the windows of the students occupying the rooms shine bright, displaying its vibrant colors on the inside of each dorms facing the sunset.

You, who were sitting on your knees, switching positions time to time, searching for a particular pose to get comfortable while drawing on your boyfriend's kotatsu in his dorm, door leading into the balcony open, making the cold breeze of late October allow itself to enter the room.

Autumn has already arrived, and that also means midterm exams. It had just finished today. After a almost whole month of preparing for the exams, and the 3 days of taking it, the students of 1-A was relieved and relaxing in their rooms as the days of hardhips were finally over, plus its a Friday so the students were scattered on each others dorms due to the upcoming weekend.

You were taking a sip of your juicebox, almost emptying it now out of frustration for having a hard time drawing a hand. In your opinion, the struggle was equal or actually a lot harder than your midterms. Art frustrates you a lot and your boyfriend wonders why you still do it, yet never really ask you since he can also tell you're really passionate about it than your other hobbies.

He was sitting on his futon, leaning againts the wall as he stare at your back figure, watching you scribble something on your sketchpad and aggressively erasing it afterwards, making the papers crumble into the direction on where you rub it, making you groan in annoyance even more.

As he observes your actions, a thought runs up his mind, asking himself the same particular questions over and over again.

"Why?"

He asks himself. Why were you putting most of your effort into this drawing? Why were you more irritated in this than the midterm exams?

"Just..... why?"

Shoto had noticed you since the start of your so-called-library-dates, although its mostly just you accompanying him to gather resources for the upcoming exams while you just scan your notes or draw, or read a completely different book whose topic is not related to your exams.

Its always been like that everyday, he never really saw you offer a lot of your energy in terms of studying, like most of the students does, as he noticed the library being almost full as soon as October started.

He saw you scan your notes time to time, yes. But full on concentration on studies? no, never seen you. The most of what he saw were you fixate immensely on your math notebook before exams started, and that was it.

The exams ended abruptly on the second day but there was extra curricular on the Hero's Course on the third day before their final grade were posted. And yes, both of you did well. After the announcement, Shoto (and you) were shocked to find out that you were in 6th place and he placed in 5th. You both exchanged congratulations, you mostly squealing out of joy to actually achieve this particular rank.

Shoto on the other hand was, doubting?. Of course he feels happy for you, but at the back of his mind, he was a little agitated. You both got the exam results at the end of the third day and to his surprise (and also yours, but internally) your scores were high, almost having the amount of same mistakes as him, except your math which you devastatingly, almost failed (lmao), which merely affected your overall result since your scores were high anyways.

Your boyfriend wasnt the type to get irritated over these things, heck yeah he feels ecstatic over your accomplishment, signal the kiss he gave you on your forehead plus the soft look he gave you with a slight smile displayed on his face. But there was a faint thought of doubt running through the back of his head, how did you get such results when you were barely even studying? There was no way you would cheat right? He didnt want to accept it, he didnt want to doubt you, but it was the one of the highest possibilities that was mostly that likely happened, as he could think of right now.

He couldnt let go of this thought unless he confronts you about it right now, so he decided to ask you, waiting for a few moments, observing you, waiting for you to calm down a little from your work.

"Y/n...."

"Hmm?" you hum, not turning yout back at him, eyes and most of your attention fixated on the paper.

"How did you manage to get a high rank even though I barely saw you studying?" he finally asks, hoping you wont get offended by it, but this thought had been bothering him a little, and he wouldnt be satisfied until he gets his answer, as the stubborn man that he is.

"Are you doubting me?" you say in an offended tone, although you meant it sarcastically, turning your back, giving Shoto your full attention now as you crawl towards him, pencil dropping in the background as you make your way towards your boyfriend, offering him to lay down as you pat his futon. He complies so, already knowing you wanted to cuddle whenever you do that certain action.

You cuddle next to him, facing him as you give him a smile to reassure him that you werent offended by him back then. "Did you notice that in class, I always, almost bury my head on my notebook, writing on it almost 24/7 whenever lecture starts?" you ask him, as you start to fidget his hair on the sides which you and him really enjoy, making its way up to his bangs, and back and fort.

"You were.... writing?" Shoto asks, raising an eyebrow with the same stoic face who seemed not to show a lot of emotions, a little dumbfounded. "I thought you were doodling". You burst out in laughter from the small misunderstanding of your boyfriend.

"Of course I was. You see, whatever the teacher blurts about that sounds important to me, I write it down because, you know, its usually what appears in exams" you explain to him, closing your eyes time to time as if you were a philosopher, passionately explaining your beliefs, only with an added self-sense of humor. As he was on the other had was, fascinated.

I mean, who knew?

"Also just to clarify things, I do put some extra effort on, some of my studies"

"By some you mean just the science topic you reported you keep rereading everyday"

"......yes"

Shoto lighlty chuckles as he moves your head to his chest, placing an arm on your head, planting a kiss on your forehead, as a sign of affection like he always does. He feels a little guilty, assuming you were cheating but in the end, you were just and always has been the genius that you were. Heck if you actually put a lot of effort in your study, you might actually come out at the top in the class, but he's aware you have other things to focus and worry about as his eyes gaze at the table with a slightly crumpled juice box standing out.

"Were you mad?" you ask, out of curiousity. You had assumed he was maybe upset about the results because he gets a little too competitive or has the sentiment that he has to prove that he only isnt good with his powers, but in academics as well, considering his situation.

He lightly shook his head as he fully encloses you to his grasp, leg placed on your sides, locking you in as he settles his face on your hair, inhaling the sweet scent of your lavender shampoo in which he always adores.

You on the other hand, was relieved now that the matter was somehow resolved? Putting those thoughts at the back of your head, your perception of relief was shortly replaced by a wave of worry as you lightly chuckle of uneasiness.

"Shoto?" you tap his sides, body tightly secured onto his. This was the one that made worry. His hands tightly clutching you, but not too much, leg on your sides, locking you in so that you wont get away easily, to him it made him feel happy, knowing that you werent going away and draw for a while. You've had situations like these already and all you ever do is give up and shower him with affection, already knowing he was slightly, probably getting a little touch starved, craving for your attention and affection. But in your situation right now, it was, unpleasant, so to say.

Not after you just finished your juicebox.

-Disclaimer, uh, I made this from

He hums in response, head tilted a little more into your head's direction. He was sure you would have given up already, knowing that he will never let you go.

"I need to pee"

"..."

"Shoto..."

"........"

"Sho"

"All I can say is good luck getting out"

"......"

"Noooooooohohohoooo!!!" you exclaim, with a sarcastic crying in your tone. This was gonna be one hell of a struggle.

Im bad at explaining things, hope you did enjoy reading this as much as I did though :))

#shoto todoroki x reader #shoto torodoki #todoroki shoto x reader #shoto x y/n #shoto x you #todoroki x reader #todoroki imagine #one shot #bnha oneshot #bnha crack #bnha fanfic

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quickspinner · 4 years

Text

Stuck On You (I’ll Never Not Know You)

This one was a suggestion in the comments on AO3 from Fern:

Soulmate’s AU where one can hear in their heads the song the other one is thinking about? Imagine Marinette’s headache when Luka gets stuck on a creative loop (and she doesn’t even recognize the song but it’s good damn it)

Marinette smiled to herself as the music in her head began again. It often started this time of day. It must be a boring time for her soulmate too, she thought as she doodled flowers in the margin of her notebook. At least he could get away with playing music. Maybe he had study hall or something and he could wear headphones.

She, unfortunately, had history, and while it could be interesting sometimes, it often wasn’t. Her notebook was as full of tiny sketches in the margin as it was notes. Really, she was grateful for the soundtrack her soulmate provided, since she wasn’t allowed to listen to music in class.

Marinette sighed wistfully. Of course, everybody hated the waiting. Well. Almost everybody. Aside from some chronically optimistic people who insisted that the anticipation was part of the “fun” and heightened the experience of meeting their soulmate at last (never mind that the people in question met their soulmates criminally early). Marinette knew that the waiting was something that everybody had to endure, so she tried not to think about it too hard, even as her curious mind went over the few things she knew about her soulmate. Which...wasn’t much, unfortunately.

His taste was eclectic. He preferred rock music but he listened to a little bit of everything. He really liked guitar music, that much was obvious. Sometimes the songs in his head that echoed through hers were nothing but guitar, electric or acoustic. She wondered if he played, and thus remembered the guitar parts of the songs he knew better than the rest of it. Unfortunately, she seemed to have a hard time recognizing the melodies without the other instruments, so it was a little frustrating. He probably didn’t know it, but he was the one who had first introduced her to Jagged Stone’s music, years ago, and Marinette was now a huge fan. She’d love to check out some of the other things he liked, but her attempts to find any of it were rarely successful.

Someday, when they met, Marinette hoped he would share all of it with her, because even with just the guitar part, she really liked what she heard most days.

She doodled another flower in her notebook and sighed again.

***

It had been four days of that awful XY song and Luka was about ready to lose his mind. He’d thought his soulmate, whoever she was, had pretty good taste in music until now, but...ugh. Luka tried not to judge, he liked a lot of things himself and he’d never want to be considered a music snob, but...XY? Really? The man’s music had no heart. It was bad enough hearing his latest single constantly on the radio, but to have it haunting Luka’s mind all the time was torture.

Luka put his head down on his desk and groaned. Enough was enough. He thought for a minute, and then focused on one of his soulmate’s favorite (he assumed, based on how often she was thinking about it) Jagged Stone songs, and began playing it mentally at full volume, fingers tapping absently to the rhythm as he tried to overwhelm that awful song. Hopefully whoever it was would forgive him for this but he just couldn’t listen any longer.

The XY song warped and twisted in a way that made him wince, but Luka was nothing if not focused. He visualized turning up the volume knob on his mental stereo, his left hand beginning to mimic the fingering for the guitar piece even as his right continued to drum. Eventually the warped tune began to follow his beat, and slowly the melody shifted as well, and there was almost an audible snap when they were back in sync again, the familiar Jagged Stone song playing without resistance.

Luka’s shoulders slumped in relief and he sighed, just listening to the song.

Then he gasped as he felt a sudden rush of relief and gratitude that definitely did not come from him. Luka sat frozen, his head still on the desk. Then a smile gradually grew on his face. “Ear worm, huh?” he murmured. “I knew you had better taste.” He closed his eyes and concentrated on the song again, falling into the flow of it. Then he tried to send his feelings back to her.

He didn’t know if it worked. He hadn’t even known it was possible to sense anything besides the music. Luka wondered if it was just him; he had a rather unique and intense relationship to music and the emotions it carried. Maybe that, plus being so intensely focused on the bond at that moment, was what allowed those feelings to come through.

It didn’t matter; that awful song was gone, and now that he knew his soulmate didn’t like it either, he’d be quicker to intervene if it came back.

***

“It’s gone!” Marinette cried, elated.

Alya looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

“That stupid song Chloé kept playing!” Marinette grabbed Alya’s arm. “It’s been in my head for days and I couldn’t get rid of it. My poor soulmate must have gotten as sick of it as I was and somehow he made it go away!”

“Does that mean you’re finally going to stop humming it? Because if so then I owe that boy a coffee when you finally meet,” Alya said dryly. “And Nino might actually put him up for sainthood.”

Marinette just sat back in her chair and sighed, relieved and happy and very grateful.

She stiffened as she felt a wave of amusement and affection wash over her. It was a little overwhelming but also calm, steady. Comforting. Marinette sighed wistfully. She hoped it was a sign they would meet soon.

***

Luka growled and set down his guitar. He’d been so inspired once he’d helped his soulmate finally get rid of that awful song, but now he was stuck. Nothing felt right. He went up on deck and leaned against the rail, folding his arms and dropping his chin onto them. The cool breeze raised goosebumps on his bare arms and he realized he’d left his hoodie downstairs. He dropped his head on his arms and groaned.

He stayed at the rail out of sheer stubbornness a little longer, playing the melody over and over in his mind and trying to figure out where he was going wrong. Maybe if he...no, that didn’t work. He turned the pick still in his fingers absently as he considered the possibilities, but nothing spoke to him.

Luka groaned and chucked his guitar pick into the river in frustration. Or rather, he tried, the wind blew it right back onto the deck and he rolled his eyes. “Well that about sums it up my day,” Luka observed wryly, leaning down to pick it up and shove it back in his pocket.

He went back down and sat back on his bed, picking up his guitar.

“If you play that damn song again,” Juleka warned without looking up from her homework, “I’ll snap the neck off your guitar and stab you with it.”

Luka threw himself back on his bed and pouted.

***

Marinette was starting to wonder if something was wrong with her soulmate. He’d had the same song stuck in his head for a long time now. It was a nice song, she liked it, but...it always stopped around the same place, and it never felt finished. It was a consistent melody up to a point, and then it would vary before it either stuttered to a halt or...shattered, she supposed was the best word.

Marinette wondered if maybe her soulmate had heard the song in passing, but either hadn’t heard all of it, or hadn’t remembered how it ended. Unfortunately she didn’t know it either, so she couldn’t finish it for him. It must be frustrating for him since he kept dwelling on it.

Frowning, Marinette settled herself more solidly in her chair. Maybe she could help him the way he helped her. She paused to think of a song, and then concentrated, trying to play it over the song she was hearing.

It was harder than she expected; her mind wanted to follow the tune in her head and even finding the right melody for the song she wanted was hard. She didn’t make it very far before she lost it completely.

To her surprise, despite her failure, the song shifted immediately. When he’d done this for her it had taken some time and effort to replace the old song with the new one, the two competing at first before his overwhelmed hers, but when she tried, the old song yielded easily, even though she hadn’t managed to hold the right melody in her mind. Just like before, she felt a wave of feeling. This time, though, it was more like...remorse. An apology?

Oh, no, she hadn’t meant him to think that. She just wanted to help, but if this was something he wanted to be thinking about, she hadn’t meant to stop him.

She wasn’t conscious of doing anything, but she must have, because the next thing she felt was gratitude and forgiveness, tinged with amusement. The song gently shifted back to the first tune.

More perplexed than ever, Marinette just shrugged and sighed and went back to her sewing, grumbling at yet another mystery that wouldn’t be solved until someday finally got here.

***

“Ugh, I’m so not ready for this test,” Alya moaned, slumping onto the library table. Mylène patted her back sympathetically.

“That’s why we decided to meet up,” she reminded Alya. “At least we can all get slightly less unprepared together.”

“Actually...” Marinette pulled out her notebook. “Look, I’ve divided up the material. If we each take a section to review, we can cover everything on the test and then make copies of everything so we all have the notes to study from!”

Rose squealed. “That’s brilliant Marinette!”

Marinette grinned, shoulders hunching slightly as the other girls joined in the praise. “Okay, great, if you all agree, then who wants to take which section? She put her color-coded outline on the table and the girls leaned over it. It only took a few minutes to get the assignments settled, and then they all got to work.

Marinette was so focused on what she was doing that she jumped when Juleka spoke suddenly.

“Where did you hear that?” Juleka asked sharply.

Four heads lifted and stared at the normally quiet girl, whose eyes were fixed on Marinette. Marinette blinked as three heads swiveled to move their gaze from Juleka to her. “Sorry?” she said.

“That tune you were humming, where did you hear it?”

“Oh, was I humming?” Marinette straightened in surprise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”

“Never mind that,” Juleka nearly snapped. “Where did you hear it?”

Marinette tilted her head. “I didn’t, actually.” She tapped her temple with her pencil. “My soulmate’s had it in his head for a while now and I guess he’s thinking about it again now. I didn’t even realize I was humming along. Do you recognize it? It keeps cutting off, and I’d love to be able to hear the end. Maybe if I could hear the end and—uh...think it for him? Maybe he’d finally get it out of his head. It must be driving him crazy.”

“It is,” Juleka mumbled, and everyone’s heads whipped back around so they could all stare at her again. “You need to come home with me when we’re finished here.”

“Oh...kay,” Marinette agreed, exchanging a look with Alya, and then with Rose, who just shrugged. Apparently she didn’t know what Juleka was talking about either. Juleka just went back to her work without any further explanation. After a moment, Marinette sighed and did the same.

***

Luka was in a mood again, sitting in a deck chair and still trying to work on this song. He’d actually thought he’d made a breakthrough a few days ago, and he did make some progress, but only a little. He was starting to wonder if maybe he should just give it up, but the song just wouldn’t leave him alone.

It was weird. He didn’t usually have this much trouble when composing. If something didn’t work, he let it go and worked on something else. He wasn’t sure why he was so set on figuring this one out. It was like...like he’d heard it somewhere, in a dream or something, so he knew somewhere deep down what it was supposed to sound like, but he just couldn’t find the notes to make it work.

He let his head fall back and closed his eyes, trying to just feel the sun on his face and the wind in his hair and the rock of the ship, but he wasn’t having much luck.

After a moment his lips quirked in a wry grin. Apparently his soulmate had his song on the brain now too, because he was still hearing it even as he tried not to think about it.

“Hey dumbass.”

“Juleka,” he sighed, not opening his eyes. “What’s up?”

“That new song you’ve been writing. Play it.”

“It’s not finished,” he grumbled. “I’m still stuck.”

“Don’t care. Play it now.”

Luka sighed, shifting the guitar in his hands. “Fine,” he muttered. Apparently the whole damn world was against him at this point, he might as well give in and play the stupid song one more time. He sat up and got comfortable and played that damn, frustrating, unfinishable song.

As the song trailed off at the same place that it always did, he heard a gasp behind him that definitely wasn’t Juleka. He craned his neck back over the chair, frowning. There was a girl standing next to Juleka with her hands over her mouth. “Oh, sorry,” he said, standing up and sliding his guitar to his back. “I didn’t realize we had company, I didn’t mean to be rude.”

He offered his hand to the girl, expecting Juleka to introduce him. When she didn’t, he added, “I’m Luka, I’m Juleka’s brother. Welcome to the Liberty.”

She still stared at him, without moving. “You...write music?” she asked, and Luka pulled his hand back and ran it through his hair awkwardly.

“I try,” he said with a lopsided grin. “Not having much luck with this one, honestly.”

“That’s why I never recognized your music,” she breathed. “You were writing it yourself. I’m such an idiot, I can’t believe I didn’t think of that, of course you’re a musician…”

Now Luka was the one staring, or rather they were staring at each other. He was barely aware of Juleka turning and walking away without a word. The new girl’s words jumbled up in his mind and he couldn’t quite make them make sense—or rather, he was so afraid of being wrong that he didn’t want to admit what they meant.

But the longer he stood and stared into her eyes, the more certain he was, and he suddenly realized where this frustrating, insistent song had come from.

“Oh,” he said softly. “It’s you.”

“Yeah,” she smiled. “I guess...it’s me. Um, I’m Marinette. By the way. That’s my, you know...name.” She held her hand out awkwardly.

Luka took her hand, stepping nearer, but forgot to shake it as he gazed at her, his smile slowly growing. Marinette began to blush.

“What?” Marinette asked finally, hunching her shoulders slightly.

“I got it,” he said quietly, still smiling as he looked at her. “I know what I was missing now.”

Marinette blinked in confusion. Luka took another step toward her, and Marinette jolted slightly as he let go of her hand and brought both of his up to curl them behind her neck, resting his forehead against hers. Marinette closed her eyes automatically, and it was only a moment before she heard that familiar beautiful but frustrating song...only this time, it didn’t cut off.

She smiled delightedly, eyes still closed. “You finished it.”

He gave an affirmative hum. “I finally found what I was looking for.”

“It’s beautiful,” she sighed, bringing her hands up to rest on his wrists.

“It’s you,” he breathed, pulling back slightly and opening his eyes to look into hers, hands sliding up to frame her face, caressing her cheeks lightly with his thumbs. “You’re right. It is beautiful.”

For a long moment they just looked at each other, and then Luka’s eyes flicked down to her lips. He started to lean in, and then hesitated, glancing back up at her. Then he closed the distance and kissed her softly. Marinette closed her eyes, and as he pulled back suddenly there was a new song in her head, and it both made her blush and made her burst out laughing.

“Are you ever not thinking about music?” Marinette giggled, and had the satisfaction of seeing Luka blush. “Really, at a time like this?”

Luka shrugged, dropping his hands from her face to wrap them around hers. “What can I say? You’re inspiring.” He smiled at her.

“Are you idiots done yet?” Juleka yelled from somewhere out of sight. “Because you’re totally buying me dinner.”

Marinette giggled, and Luka hung his head with a sigh. “At least you already know her so I don’t have to figure out a way to explain her,” he chuckled. “Well, can I take you and apparently my annoying sister out to dinner tonight, Marinette?”

Marinette smiled. “I think that sounds like a good start.”

“A start,” Luka’s smile grew into a grin. “I like the sound of that.”

“Don’t you dare,” Marinette warned, laughter bubbling up as another melody began to form in her mind.

“Get used to it,” Luka chuckled. “I think it’s going to be happening a lot from now on.”

#quickspins #i'll never not know you #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics #meet-cute #alternate meeting

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thirsty-x1 · 4 years

Text

Tulips | Han Seungwoo

Request:

Hiya! I’m back with another request. Imagine a CEO Seungwoo, who often intimidates everyone he works with, gets smitten and whipped for the new secretary [who he might have met in the club the week before and had an AMAZING and fun one night stand with ;) ] maybe it sounds like a smut (and there can be hehe) but I was picturing an absolute fluff 😀 the big bad scary seungwoo all flustered and nice to y/n (making everyone’s jaw drop).

↬ Pairing: Seungwoo x fem!reader.

↬ Genre: Fluff, minor mentions of smut.

↬ Warnings: some explicit language, slight harassment from one of the other characters.

↬ Word Count: 2.2k

↬ Song Recommendation: “Tulips” by Snuper. Such a fucking amazing song, really, they deserve better.

The headache got stronger as he flipped through the papers in front of him, groaning in frustration as he noticed the mistakes that his employees had made on numerous occasions. Seungwoo wasn’t the kind to let anger take over him, usually patient and calm, but whenever he was tired and annoyed about something, it showed on his semblance: his shoulders stiff, his back straightening up, passing his hands through his hair a few times and brushing the edge of his nose with his fingers. Somehow, the fact that he never yelled and never lost his temperament made everyone become more scared of him in the office, always waiting for the situation where he would finally show his true colors, which hadn’t happened in the last few years.

Going out with friends and losing control wasn’t what he had expected to happen the night before, and neither ending up with an unknown girl in an unknown room, questioning each small thing about the world. He smiled slightly remembering the conversation and her voice, the way she had laughed when he accidentally burped, the friendly feeling of regret making way on his mind for not asking her phone number. His fingers folded the corner of the pages absentmindedly and the images started to flash behind his eyes.

Loud music, shining lights and another round of shots being delivered to the table where he was at, Seungyoun pushing a glass in his direction while Wooseok screamed some gibberish, Hangyul quickly shushing him and causing Yohan to giggle. It wasn’t long until the alcohol started to affect him although not enough to go and dance ridiculously in the middle of the place the way that Seungyoun and Hangyul were, nor to talk to other girls the way that Yohan and Wooseok were trying to do. At least until a hand appeared before him, the obviously drunk girl smiling sweetly at him and insisting in taking him for a dance. He flushed, declining the offer as respectfully as he could, eyes opening as her smile faded and sat on the vacant spot next to him, finishing his glass in one gulp.

“Don’t you want to have some fun?” He stared incredulously at her. “Let out all that stress from work, forget about the world for a bit?”

Seungwoo frowned, as if avoiding his responsibilities were a choice. “I think I can handle it.” His gaze followed her every movement, mostly worried about his wallet or phone being taken away, but her hand got closer to him, fingers brushing his forehead and then to the corners of his mouth, stretching a smile.

“You look prettier like this.”

After that, he doesn’t remember when or how they ended up on the hotel, her riding him and caressing the tattoo on his shoulder, kissing his cheeks but avoiding his lips the same way she did the whole night. There is another empty memory, his suspicion is he was asleep, and then seeing her laugh at him, the sheets covering her body partially as she turned around and talked with him, patiently waiting until he sobered up. It was then when they connected, or that’s how he decided to name it, talking about their problems and difficulties. Maybe it was because he wasn’t going to see her again, or maybe because since she didn’t know him she couldn’t feel guilty for him or pity him, but for the first time in a while, he felt comfortable letting all his feelings out. When he finished, he expected some kind of reaction from her, something like a sad look or an awkward silence, but she took one of the tulips of the vase next to the bed and put it on his ear, mumbling a soft “walk a flower path” while smiling sweetly.

She had left before him, the room feeling way too bigger and cold without her presence when he woke up again. They hadn’t exchanged numbers, not even their names… so that was a one night stand, what his friends always recommended to feel better, but it made him feel worse than before. Knowing he had to go back to work, to the world of responsibilities, to the CEO Han Seungwoo and leaving behind his identity as a random stranger.

The night played on a loop on his brain, his headache starting to soothe until he realized he had been doodling on the cover of one of the projects he had to present soon. With a long sigh, he looked for the file on the computer, printing it again and jolting as a cup of water and an aspirin were placed on his desk.

“I already interviewed all the applicants. This one seems the most suited one.” The old woman gave him a curriculum. “Now stop complaining and take that, it will make you feel better.”

It pained him that Ms. Lee was going away, getting a new one that would understand him as much as her was going to be complicated, the first reason why he asked the lady to hold the interviews since she would know better what suited him.

His eyes stopped on the picture, or rather the lack of it. “No way to identify herself?”

“She said it wasn’t necessary to look at her physical appearance when she was perfectly qualified in all the other areas.” Seungwoo raised his eyebrows. “She is pretty, if that is what you are asking.”

“I don’t care about that as long as he does her work right. Tell her she starts in a week.”

The rest of the week went by with no major incidents. Seungwoo was at the resting lounge, waiting for the machine to finish with the coffee when he listened to a few of his workers speaking.

“Did you see his new secretary? Sure it was a big change…”

Were they talking about him? How come they had met her already? He had yet to meet up with her, it being her first day.

“Who cares about that? He barely looks at the women in the office in the eye, we can have her for ourselves.”

“Oh, yeah, as if she would notice you.”

He had heard enough, the chatter bothering him as he forgot about his coffee and walked closer, standing imposingly behind the group of men, clearing his throat a few times before speaking.

“I suppose you have finished with the report I asked, Mr. Kim?” A slight annoyance invaded him as he saw the color drain from his employee’s face.

“Uh, n-not really–”

“I want another five, each based on the development and progress of the departments. For tomorrow. Hand them in to my secretary.”

Not giving them the chance to complain, he turned around and walked away. It sickened him the way they were always lazing around, always chatting and criticizing everyone for doing their work while they did none of theirs. This kind of acts always angered him, his pace becoming quicker while ignoring the stares of the other workers as he got inside his office, sitting down on the chair and covering his face while trying to calm down.

“Uh, I can come back in another moment…” The voice startled him, he didn’t notice anyone inside the office, and the second his hands slipped off, he froze in place and so did the other person.

It was her.

It was the girl from that night, standing up behind her desk a few meters away from him. Her eyes opened wide, stuttering a few times while fidgeting with her fingertips. He could feel people staring at them through the glass doors, waiting to catch something that was worthy gossiping over.

“Ah, secretary y/ln, yes. Sorry for that.” His eyes pleaded that she would follow his plan, and it must have worked because next she walked out the desk with a few folders in hand.

“Here are the reports that you asked for yesterday, Ms. Lee told me to give them to you.” She cleared her throat, trying to hide a smile as she read his schedule, and if he was honest, he didn’t pay attention to anything at all.

That’s how it went the rest of the next weeks. She would fill every single task even before he could ask, and he wouldn’t ask because his shyness overtook him. Whenever they were in the same room, his eyes would drift to her, a smirk twitching on the corner of his lips as he caught small habits of her, quickly calling it a day if he noticed she was tired, changing his schedules to fit hers… They hadn’t talked about that night since they grew comfortable with each other, the talk not being necessary anymore.

Of course, everyone had noticed the change in Seungwoo, even if he tried to hide it. He would act coldly only to turn into a melted pool whenever she walked by, completely serious during meetings and starting to stutter whenever she came into the room, his tone when reprimanding someone softening if she was around, how he walked with two cups of coffee into his office and left one on her desk, or when he laughed at a joke she made when spending time with her co-workers, blushing if he was found out. It was too obvious, no matter how much effort he put into not making it that way.

It was early in the morning, a few employees here and there as he walked to the office before stopping on the door when he listened to her speaking over the phone.

“… good, he’s good, mom… No, my boss hasn’t tried to touch me, he isn’t that kind of man… Why does it matters if I work on my birthday? He worked through his as well… No, he isn’t forcing me to work through it… No, I’m not saying it just so that you don’t worry about it… The rest- they treat me well, a few out of place comments as always… I waited for a long time to get this job and it’s really good so I can deal with that…”

He didn’t wait for the conversation to be over. In a minute he was outside, roaming around the streets, his shoes making a loud sound against the floor as he walked faster, sighing in relief as he found what he was looking for. Hurriedly went inside the shop, picked what he thought was the best and came back into the building, not really caring about the way the males were watching him and ignoring the soft gasps from the women as he entered the office only to find the so-called Mr. Kim leaning over his secretary’s desk.

“Just once, darling, c’mon… you want all this attention with the outfits you wear.”

“Leave me alone, really, this isn’t fun.” It pained him to see her going through it, wondering whether he should interrupt the scene. It would certainly cause havoc in the office, but…

“Oh I don’t care if you find it fun, I could easily force myself on you, you slut–”

“I believe this is enough, Mr. Kim.” Seungwoo’s tone was cold as ice, his hand on the man’s shoulder tightening its grip as he pulled him away from her. “You are fired.”

“What? It’s not what you think! She was the one that–!”

“There are cameras in this room, so please abstain yourself from lying. And the reason isn’t merely because of this incident; your lack of discipline and responsibility for your work it’s undeniable, and this is considered harassment, so I will kindly ask you to pick your personal belongings and get out. We can schedule a meeting to talk over all the mistakes and reasons for me to have taken this decision.”

The silence could almost be heard, the rest of the people outside the office completely in shock at the situation, which in a certain way was something positive: even if he chose to sue him or something, he had the evidence and the witnesses to win the case over. Although from the way that Mr. Kim was shaking, it didn’t look like that was going to happen at all. As soon as he left, Seungwoo ordered everyone to go back to their work, closing the door for some privacy as he checked on the woman.

“Y/n, are you okay? Do you need anything?” She looked at him with fondness at the mention of her name instead of her last name, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“No, that was good enough, but… What are those for?” Her chin pointed at the bouquet that rested on the small coffee table between them.

He grabbed them hurriedly, his cheeks blushing. “I heard you say it was your birthday and… Well, I thought that a gift couldn’t hurt…”

“Hmm, tulips in the workplace, Mr. Han?” She caressed the petals slightly. “You sure have a good memory considering you were pretty gone that night.”

It was that joking tone, the same one that she had used back in the club and on the hotel room. He had missed it after listening to her talk to him formally, no matter how ridiculous it sounded.

“It was an interesting night, to say the least.” A slight knock on the glass door caught his attention, the woman behind it signaling him to get out. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Mr. Han?” He turned around right before going out the door. “I hope we get to walk on the flower path for a long time.”

I intended this to be much longer but the distractions around were just too many... so this is it ㅠㅅㅠ

~Nani

| Masterlist |

#not tulips but aye #han seungwoo fluff #han seungwoo #han seungwoo scenario #seungwoo #seungwoo scenario #seungwoo fluff #victon #victon scenario #victon fluff #x1 #x1 fluff #x1 scenario #victon han seungwoo #victon seungwoo #x1 han seungwoo #x1 seungwoo #han seungwoo x reader #seungwoo x reader

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rosaline-kei · 4 years

Note

If it's ok may i request a yandere!armin x mikasa fanfic set in the aot world? If that's comfortable for you of course.. I loved your fanfic, Bared and I am in desperate need of some arumika content.

Disclaimer: I do not own Shingeki no Kyojin / Attack on Titan nor its characters.

Title: Yandere

parts: 1/2

Synopsis: Unknown to everyone but his victims, there’s a side to Armin that he dedicates to protecting his beloved.

Rated: T / M (I’m not that sure; but it’s a fanfic about yandere so there’s that. Read it at your own risk. I might finalize the overall rating depending on the second part.)

Pairings: Armin Arlert / Mikasa Ackerman

Read it also on / Please Leave a Review at: my Ao3 / FF net (might post there soon.)

A/N: i’m chill with writing yandere stuff i guess? But remember guys, don’t be a yandere in real life lmao. I hope this was okay, considering i don’t really watch/play yandere animes/games?? I think?? Except for the classics y’know, like Mirai Nikki haha. That aside, thank you for enjoying Bare! (which y’all can read on my Ao3 lmao). Also, the time period / current time setting of this is messy but shhh.......

Control.

While many cadets would think otherwise, Armin had always struggled with control, sometimes even more than Eren.

Murderous urges never ceased to come creeping up his spine, crawling its way into his heart; strangling it and him entirely—pleading for him to let them go. To let loose whenever anyone goes a little too close to her; whenever anyone dares to invade her personal space, trespassing in his territory.

But Armin knew how to play his cards. Behind his innocent and naïve appearance, deep inside the insanity that dances around his heart like a frisky pup, he was an intelligent and strategic man, who knew how to play this game.

Killing Eren was never, could never be an option. Even if that reckless boy dragged Mikasa down into the turbulence that surrounded him, even if that dense idiot carelessly spat insensitive rubbish in Mikasa’s direction, even if one day he might finally become a sensible man, who was capable of loving her—he can’t kill him. And it was not just because they shared a history together, because they shared a bond.

It was because he knew Eren’s death would send Mikasa in a spiral down into the depths of hell or null. He had the horrid chance of witnessing it once; the impact of Eren’s death on Mikasa.

And it was because he loves Mikasa, he didn’t want her to suffer through that again, so he kept Eren and a few others that appeared to be close (but not that dangerously close) to Mikasa. He didn’t, and never wanted to see her hurt. Besides, he would often think, there are other fathomable and less bloody ways of making her mine, before anyone else.

For now, Armin wasn’t fixated in eliminating the ‘what if’ possibilities where Mikasa winded up with someone else that wasn’t him. For now, he chose to instead focus on his next step in this messed-up game. And for now, in this game, he decided to let them live.

Call him obsessive, but the blonde was lovesick.

Armin didn’t remember how his feelings escalated into this splendid travesty; how this wicked side of him woke. What he did remember was that one day, a day where Eren was absent, a day where it was just the two of them, a day where Armin really had the chance to admire and marvel in the Ackerman’s heavenly presence, did he start to fall.

“Armin…? Are you alright?” Mikasa asked softly, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. “You appeared… troubled earlier, was it because you saw him?” The concern emanating from her tone was enough to throw Armin’s senses off a cliff; and that was barely an exaggeration. Anything, and maybe everything that came out of her mouth was considered a melody to Armin.

Her.

Everything about her was a soothing melody. Her voice, her breath, her heartbeat. Even just her looks. That much was enough to compose a symphony in Armin’s head.

“No… it’s nothing.” Armin assured with a hum as he turned towards her direction, putting on the brightest smile he could manage in the dim-lit room that they were to rest in. For a motel in the underground, this far exceeded Armin’s expectation. Despite the poor lighting along with the peelings of decayed wallpaper hanging loose from the cracked, yellowed walls, Armin had honestly anticipated for the condition of this room to be much worse, with insects possibly crawling about, spiders readying to defend their territory or hunt.

Regardless, as long as Mikasa was comfortable, it was fine.

That aside, the last thing Armin had expected was to see that man who harassed him back then, when he was forced to doll up, dress up as Historia Reiss. Then again, the fact that the two of them were ordered to investigate these parts of the underground for clues regarding a separate issue (one that was fortunately not about Eren being kidnapped, again) was even more unexpected, bewildering even. The crippling world existing on the surface was chaos enough, and Armin would’ve had expected for Levi to keep them around in case that Ripper would show up since they were vital members of his squad. Or at least, not send two cadets on a mission alone, having to navigate the unfamiliar underground the first time by themselves, with a poorly drawn map that could’ve been mistaken with a child’s doodle. Then again, as much as he’d like to question his decision, he didn’t have an opportunity to. Who knows what was going behind the scenes? Armin couldn’t help but ponder.

On the bright side, he was alone with Mikasa.

On the darker side, however…

“If anything, I should be asking you that, Mikasa.” Armin remarked, his smile and other features morphing into something more worried. “You looked… uncomfortable, out there.” It took him every ounce of effort to not let his maliciousness seep through and poison his tone when he thought back to the stares Mikasa received—particularly by one herd of obnoxious barbarians that were bold and foolish enough to cackle out inappropriately snide remarks about her oriental features as they made their way towards the bar.

It made his blood boil.

“…I just don’t understand why people like them exist, that is all. I don’t have time to be concerned with people like them.” She said coldly; a tone and sentiment Armin hoped to never be on the receiving end of. What’d he ever do if Mikasa were to hate him? Or if Mikasa were to find out his… tendencies?

Armin didn’t plan to find out. He was a curious soul, but not that curious.

Slowly, Mikasa shifted herself slightly to the left side of the bed before patting the vacant right side. “Lay down… there’s room. Besides, that couch looks like it could be invested with termites.” She offered calmly, resisting a yawn.

“E-Eh?!” Armin stuttered, face flushed. He had been too busy… scheming, and had forgotten that there was a possibility of them having to share a bed.

It wasn’t the first time but… he wanted to feel her warmth, so badly, so desperately. He wanted to cling onto her, and never, never let her go. He wanted to be close to her, to be overwhelmed by her godly presence again and again. It would just be the two of them. No distractions, nothing.

Unfortunately, Armin had to reject, or rather postpone her offer, as reluctant as he was.

His hand stretched back, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “I… would love to, but… I haven’t eaten any dinner yet since we left. I saw a store selling bread nearby, so I’ll head there for a bit.”

“What?” Mikasa’s eyes widened, shocked to hear that he was running on an empty stomach. “I’ll come w—”

“No, it’s fine!” Armin reassured. “You need to… rest. Please.” He didn’t want to trouble her.

Despite his plea for her to rest, she stood up in protest, stomping her way towards him. The fierceness in her eyes clearly made it evident to him that she was against the idea. Cute, he thought. He adored how dedicated and devoted she could be to the people she made room for in her heart, he greatly appreciated her concern, but…

“But it can be dangerous—”

“If I don’t come back within forty-five minutes… then come looking for me.” Armin smiled. “Don’t worry. It’s just a quick stop, and I’ll head back. I can handle my own.”

Mikasa looked at him, stared with him eyes brimming full of genuine worry, concern and conflict. It made Armin’s heart skip and flutter. That look served a reminder to Armin that she cared about him, so much.

After a long tangible silence that stood between them (that Armin didn’t break, couldn’t break. He was too hypnotized by her looks; by her), she finally resigned and with a sigh, “Fine.” She said.

Armin was perfectly capable of handling himself, she knew that. He wasn’t weak. Even if he didn’t excel in physical strength as much as she did, he made it up with his brains; his intelligence that always aid in his and their escape in whatever tricky predicaments.

“But… please,” She muttered, her hands reaching out to grab his free hand, holding them closely, tightly. “Don’t stay out too long… the later it gets, the more ruffians are out there.”

“U-Uhuh!” Armin nodded, savouring her touch, her warmth, feeling the heat rising to his cheeks and a mad rush of blood surging. It was thrilling, and an expression nearly slipped from his control.

Control Armin, control. He reminded himself. Now wasn’t the moment for Mikasa to witness how much she had an effect on him. He was practically wrapped around her finger, in some sense, and he didn’t mind. It was relieving, he was glad.

Perhaps if it wasn’t just the two of them, he would have more control about his expressions that had a possibility of exposing what he felt for her. He loved her, but at the same time, what he felt for her was more than that.

There was no going back, now.

Once Mikasa had let go, he left, knowing that there was no time to waste.

As he left, he felt a wave of ecstasy swinging within him as he relished the lingering warmth that Mikasa’s hand had imprinted on his. Ahhhh! The warmth is all the same… He thought, humming to himself as he skipped towards his destination. Her touch is all the same… ah… sometimes I just want it all to myself.

Upon arriving at his destination, his humming stopped, and what took over was a determined look mixed with some animosity. Taking a deep breath as he re-calculated his plans, he entered the bar with a thirst for vengeance.

#snk #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #arumika #Mikasa Ackerman #armin arlert #armin x mikasa #mikasa x armin #mikasa #armin #my fanfiction #my fanfic #aot fanfic #snk fanfic #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction

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gwoongi · 5 years

Text

acts of love

bts / reader, all members / reader genre: best friends au, fluff + crack rating: general words: 9.6k warnings: platonic relationships, smoking, so much fluff you might need to book an appointment with ur dentist for tomorrow morning ASAP a/n: if u want 2 be bts’ best friend, raise ur hand *thousands of hands raise*. this fic fuels my genuine need to be their bff. i saw this post last night + wrote this immediately. hope u love it like i do :D

➸ As long as you’ve got a good group of friends, anything is possible. Thankfully, you’ve got the best group you could ever ask for.

(01) taking pics of ur friends without them asking u to bc they looked so pretty in that exact moment

“Well, at least the views not so bad. Honestly, I thought it would be a lot worse.”

Beside you, at the top of the bleachers that surround the large football pitch below, Taehyung huffs and kicks his feet up onto the empty row in front of him. It would be easy to just move rows, considering the game’s due to start in ten minutes time, and there’s plenty of empty seats closer. But, he’s bought these seats, and by the looks of things, Yoongi and Hoseok are already comfortable where they are, sharing a big bag of sticky popcorn between them. Casting a look to the right, you notice that Sana and Seunghee are making their way up, dressed in jerseys and caps, and you suddenly feel very out of place.

“Tell me why I came again?” you ask, not looking away from the pitch below. The grass is bright green, and every wandering body down on the pitch is just a small speck.

“Because,” Taehyung starts, unlocking his phone and checking his messages. You snoop- one missed text from Jeongguk and two off his Mom, which makes you smile. Taehyung’s always been a Mommy’s boy. “You love me, and you know that I worked my ass off for two whole months saving up for these tickets. And, since Jimin’s sick and couldn’t come, you decided to be a good friend and take his place.”

With a frown, you look back towards Taehyung. “I don’t know shit about football.”

“Cheer when we do,” Taehyung suggests honestly.

Yoongi perks up, patting your arm roughly. “Do what I do, and cheer for the team with the prettier uniform.”

“Don’t!” Taehyung hisses, grabbing you back. “The other team have a prettier uniform, but if you cheer for them on this side of the stadium, you’re going to get mobbed. Hey, Yoongi, don’t tell her that, she doesn’t know any better.”

“Just football,” Yoongi shrugs.

“Just football…” Taehyung scoffs and shrinks back down in his seat.

You laugh quietly, petting Taehyung’s leg with faux sympathy. As you move your body to glance around the stadium, strangely anticipating the start of the match, a flash out the corner of your eye makes you look over in Hoseok’s general direction. Hoseok holds his phone up, taking a photo, and then smiles as he checks it on the screen.

“Jung Hoseok, delete it now!” you gape, realising what he’s done. “Oh my God, I bet I look so ugly...you could have warned me.”

“Sorry,” he laughs sheepishly. He then shows you the screen, “you looked pretty! And it’s your first live match ever, we had to document it. Yoongi, look. Wow...I’m sending this to Jimin for proof that you’re having fun.”

“What if I’m not having fun?” you ask.

He glances up, “you are.”

Well. If he says so.

(02) randomly giving tiny gifts (a comic book that ur friend likes, a heart-shaped piece of paper with a sweet message on it)

“Can anybody here share the exact chemistry behind Elephant Toothpaste?”

Chemistry is the absolute bane of your life. It’s only been a few weeks, and you’re already regretting taking additional classes in it. Technically, it was Jimin’s fault you were here in the first place. If it wasn’t for the fact that Jimin was afraid of enrolling into classes alone and therefore had guilted you into taking advanced chemistry with him, then you wouldn’t be here. You sigh for the fourth time in the last ten minutes and shove your chin into the palm of your hand. The clock above Professor Han’s head seems to be still, taunting you with zero movements.

Can boredom kill you? You wonder about that, letting your mind wander as Professor Han continues to quiz the front two rows on the exact chemical formula of the affectionately named Elephant Toothpaste. You’re so close to finding the answer when you feel somebody poking your upper arm. The finger that pokes belongs to Jimin, and you angle your head to look at him with a questioning glare.

Jimin smiles, his hair falling into his face. Like you, he rolled out of bed this morning and tried his best to look semi-presentable; if you counted borderline pajama wear and a serious case of bed-head to be presentable and acceptable for a 9am lecture. Jimin says nothing, just smiles and pushes something towards you with two fingers. The sound of the paper sliding towards you brings your gaze down, and as you look away to stare at it, Jimin returns his attention to Professor Han. Bare in mind, his notebook is empty, save doodles of Yewon on the front row, occasionally losing focus and staring around the room for long periods of time.

What Jimin has pushed before you is a small little piece of paper, smoothly cut into a heart shape. Now the sound of scissors makes sense… It’s just scrap paper from the back of his notebook, decorated with tiny stars and circles, a pathetic hand drawn galaxy on the front like a book cover. You slowly pick it up, more interested in this than the lecture. You turn it over curiously, your heart thumping endearingly and a smile picking up on your face as you read what he’s written on the back.

you and me have some serious chemistry. love u

Jimin refuses to make eye contact again. He’ll say something along the lines of, “you’re taking it too seriously” when you’ll no doubt ask him about it later, but really, Jimin’s just a softie, with the sudden need to tell his friends that he loves them. You’re not complaining.

(03) handwritten letters with cute stickers

Something’s been left in your shared kitchen, something with your name on it and closed in an envelope with a small Gudetama sticker. You set your cup of tea to the side, sliding up onto a stool near the breakfast bar to read it. The front is in a bold font, in handwriting you don’t really recognise. Careful of the time and effort put into the appearance, you carefully open the envelope and take out the contents.

Y/N

Good morning. I hope you slept okay - when I came home last night after judo, you were actually passed out on the couch in the common room so I piggy backed you up to your room. Hehe, your room is so dirty though...I think I definitely tripped over a plug that connected your fairylights, so sorry if that doesn’t work anymore. Anyway. I left this morning and left you some nice tea and some tablets (Yoongi said that I should put them in your bathroom, so I literally just left them on your sink). I know you haven’t been having a fun time with midterms and you need to take care of yourself! If you get too sick and can’t do anything, then how will we eat?? You’re our uni mom!!! We need to live too!!!!! D:

I also rented out Harry Potter for later. I know you get really sad and lonely when you’re stressed out, and so we can watch it together when I’m home after my shift at work :D

Hehe, feel better <3 Just remember that Jeonggukie loves you!!!

Drink tea and stay warm :)

Lots of love, Jeongguk :D

The paper is signed with Jeongguk’s messy handwriting, like he ran out of time as he was writing it. The page is littered with tiny Gudetama stickers and the sight of it makes you smile. Along with other little notes Jeongguk’s left for you over the last few months, this one earns a spot on your cork board above your desk.

(04) remembering what ur friend likes or dislikes

You were so late.

Almost getting run over by a bus in the process, you sprint across the small road that separates your flat and the University central campus, missing a deep puddle as you step up off the road and onto the pavement. It pours, your hair soaked and makeup no doubt running and staining your cheeks. Holy fuck, you were so late.

Every Friday, without fail, Flat 6 (aka the large and slightly stinky flat you share with two of your best friends) host an annual movie night, inviting literally all of your extended friendship group which definitely is not allowed, but who cares? You noticed Namjoon’s car pulled up in the car park next door and curse again, knowing you’re the last one to arrive to a movie night you’re technically hosting.

You rush up the stairs, since the elevator is still down for maintenance, and burst into the flat with an announcing groan. From somewhere in the living room, Jeongguk looks up with happy surprise and jumps up off the couch, approaching the hall.

“Y/N! You made it.”

You wince, smiling as you hang up your coat to drip dry on the mat near the door. “Yep. I made it. To my own movie night. That I’m technically helping host.”

“No sweat,” Jeongguk shrugs. “It’s okay. Here, I’ll dump your bag in the closet. Get changed, I think Yoongi’s still preparing snacks, anyway.”

“Okay. Thanks, Jeonggukie.”

He gushes, smiling and raising his shoulders cutely. “It’s okay, Y/N.”

Jeongguk swiftly takes your bag from your clutches, faking the weight with the droop of his knees just to hear you laugh, and then he turns to shuffle down the hall to quite literally toss it into the shared storage closet. You’re not too worried; on days like today, in which you have one 1 hour seminar to attend at 5pm and nothing else, there’s nothing inside your bag worthy of being broken by Jeongguk throwing it to the ground. As he does this, you shudder out of your shoes and make your way to your bedroom, to change into something warm and comfortable for the movie.

The sound of laughter makes you hurry to change, one leg out of your damp and cold jeans whilst simultaneously fishing for some old jogging bottoms out of your bottom draw, a jumper from Yoongi that he thought he lost left for you to grab on your bed. What he doesn’t know and will find out in five minutes won’t hurt him. (Yoongi also doesn’t care, because he’s a whipped best friend who lets you do what you want, including steal clothes he actually needs and can’t really afford to replace. Oh well, sharing is caring!).

Your hair is still soaked, and you move towards the single bathroom squeezed between two bedrooms to ring it out in the sink. Once you’re done, and your hair is thrown up into a scrunchie-decorated pony, you pace back towards the kitchen where, rightly so, Yoongi stands with his back facing you, filling up a glass with Pepsi.

“I thought we threw that shit out,” you announce as you walk in. “You know this flat is Team Coca Cola, those are the rules.”

Yoongi sighs, not looking up. “Yeah, I know, but Namjoon is a monster.”

“He’s so annoying...why can’t he just admit that Coca Cola is better?” you sigh, moving towards Yoongi to see the small bowls of snacks he has ready to be taken into the living room. It’s full in there, people stuffed onto the sofas and the floor where a bed of blankets lies like a mattress.

Yoongi’s outdone himself; the bowls are neatly organised by colour and ingredient, and you smile. Yoongi was a lot of things, one of them a secret perfectionist. Even when it concerned bowls of snacks. God, you love to love him.

“Namjoon’s a man of unpopular opinions, I mean, he really thinks the live action of Attack on Titan is good, like, who actually thinks that?” Yoongi rants, and then he glances to the side towards you, is silent for a moment, and then asks, “is that my jumper?”

You look down at it with a smile. “Yep. It’s comfy.”

Yoongi hums, like he’s bored. “Whatever, looks better on you than it did on me. Who the fuck lied to me and told me dark green was my colour...?”

“Every colour is your colour,” you say, patting his back and reaching for the bowls. “Should I take these in?”

Yoongi then nods, humming again. “Yeah. Yellow bowl is for you, by the way.”

You look to it. “And why is that?”

“Cause I know you don’t like the barbeque flavour chips that are in the red bowl, but everyone else does, so I went out and got you the salty ones. Oh, and there’s a bar of Galaxy in the fridge. Don’t tell Jeongguk, cause he’ll get pissy about how I didn’t get him something.”

As Yoongi tells you this, your heart flutters. You had told him that when you first met, after he offered you some of his chips noticing you were the only person not eating.

“You remembered that?” you wonder, and Yoongi looks at you like you’ve lost your mind.

“I’m a good friend,” he states, as though it were obvious. “Don’t get it twisted, though. I only did it because I don’t want to hear you complaining about it all night.”

You’re sure that’s a lie, but if it makes him feel better, you’ll accept it. You’ll also ignore the embarrassed tinge of red on his cheeks.

(05) inside jokes

[15:16PM] jeongguk: alright fuckers 🔪😡 [15:16PM] jeongguk: who left the kitchen window open all damn night [15:17PM] jeongguk: there’s three spiders in the sink and it rained so the work surface is all wet [15:17PM] jeongguk: [1 Image Attached] not happy bois [15:23PM] jine: i dont even live with you why are you asking the gc this [15:24PM] jeongguk: yoongi has the flat gc muted and idk how else to yell at him [15:28PM] y/n: blame me,,,,i have failed u,,,,,,,im sowwy [15:29PM] jeongguk: hehe its ok ❣️💘💕💓 i’ll clean it up 🥰 [15:32PM] haseul: eye….. [15:39PM] jimin: YALL LMAOODIUGJFKDSLJ [15:39PM] jimin: guess what TF just happened in my maths class [15:41PM] jimin: i forgot that on one of my assignments me and y/n had drawn a camel in the library on the back and he saw and asked me 2 stay behind after class so he could have stern words with me or smthn…..anyway so i go to the front of the class at the end and he’s like “mr park what the hell is this camel doing here” [15:42PM] jimin: and i said sir thats not a camel [15:42PM] jimin: thats my WIFE [15:43PM] y/n: HA HA HA… [15:45PM] yoongi: IF YALL DONT STOP [15:47PM] taehyung: THIS IS THE THIRD TIME YOU’VE MADE THIS REFERENCE AND I DONT KNOW WHAT IT MEANS [15:47PM] taehyung: this inside joke stinks….someone explain to me please what this means 😭😭😭 [15:48PM] hoseok: i hate this damn gc

(06) long phone calls

[Incoming Facetime Call From: Seokjin 👪]

“Hey.”

“Hey. Y/N, are you sitting down because I have some major tea on Professor Kwon and Professor Kim and I’m not supposed to be saying anything and it’s killing me.”

“Oh shit.” Audio shuffles. “I’m lying down now, bitch. Tell me everything.”

“Okay. So…”

[Five Hours Later]

“I’m still in shock about Kwon and Kim.”

“Me too. What’s Kim gonna do, lie and say she had heat rash on her titties?”

“Hopefully she doesn’t get them out for people to see.”

“Literally. God, I hate how our life has resorted to teacher gossip. Are we those students?”

“Yup. Two students bitching about teachers at...like ...midnight?”

“Oh, shit, it’s midnight already??”

(07) facetiming while ur both doing something else (study dates like that are on another level of intimacy)

Jimin’s had the same cold for about two weeks now, and nobody knows what the hell’s up with it. He walks around his flat, according to Hoseok, wrapped up in a blanket and surrounded by a necklace of matted tissues. To be honest, it’s not as bad as he’s making it out to be, but he’s a guy, and so anything that involves a slight stomach pain and a blocked nose instantly translates to man flu, which is almost as bad as the plague.

That being said, Jimin’s set himself under “house arrest” and is therefore glued to his bed or desk chair, still managing to move his sore and aching joints to write a few words on his lab report. With the first round of finals creeping up, Jimin actually wants to go to the library, but, man, what with his man flu and everything, he just can’t seem to do it.

On the other hand, he has you to set the mood for him. After snagging a corner table in the library near the big windows, you make a barrier out of your bag and books to watch the sunset, Taehyung opposite using minimal space with his laptop and headphones, watching a documentary he’ll need to cite for his essay. Jeongguk naps next to you, having exhausted himself from his shift last night that ran into the early hours and Sana secretly paints her nails, blowing them dry as she takes a break from writing.

Once you’re settled and comfortable, you reluctantly peel away the slice of tape covering your webcam (because Black Mirror has forever scared you into thinking 4Chan are watching you and will hold your endless hours of Games2Girls dot com against you) and open up Facetime, ringing Jimin who waits patiently back home.

After a few rings, Jimin’s bright and tired face pops up on the screen and you both silently wave. Jimin has his mic muted, but yours is on, allowing the ambience of the library trick Jimin into believing he’s actually there. It’s not quite like an ordinary study date, but for now, it’ll do. He opens his textbook and starts to work, comfortable and happy now that he’s listening to his friends discuss work, like he’s there. He smiles, occasionally glancing up to see your face working or Jeongguk unintentionally leaning into frame. It’s comforting. He works well.

(08) cooking something for ur friend

“Merry Christmas, Tae. Oh, wait, I have something for you.”

Taehyung is hosting a Christmas party this year, in the apartment he shares with some of the girls in your group and Namjoon. His flat is lit up with lights, draining the electricity, the tree sparkling like diamonds in the front living room that looks out onto the Seoul city. The sound of Michael Bublé sings out festively and Taehyung leads you through to the kitchen, out of the loud madness of the party that’s getting into full swing. In one hand, you have a big bag of presents that both Jeongguk and Yoongi kindly left for you to haul all by yourself to Taehyung’s flat, and in the other, you balance a box across your arm, the corner sharp on your inner elbow.

“Cool. Your gift is under the tree,” Taehyung says.

“Oh, yeah. No, this is an early gift.”

“Just for me?” he asks.

You set down the box. “Well, you can share if you love us all a lot. But, it’s for you.”

Taehyung wastes no time in opening the box, a smile widening across his face as he reviews the contents. The box is stuffed full with cookies, baked big and crumbly for his tasty pleasures. They’re decorated too, because you love him so much and you know he liked them last year.

“Last year you ate nearly all of my batch, so I just decided to make you some of your own this year,” you tell him casually. It’s really no big deal, but Taehyung feels like he might actually cry because the thought is so sweet. You notice this, the glassiness of your eyes. “Ew, don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry, I’m touched!” he exclaims. Taehyung turns on his spot and wraps an arm around your neck, pulling you in for a hug. With your arms wrapped around his torso, Taehyung smiles with a thrilled sound and kisses the crown of your head. “Thanks, Y/N, you’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know.”

(09) sending texts when u randomly think abt them

[11:15AM] namjoon 👨🏼‍🚀: i stopped by at kyobo’s today and found a cards against humanity add on pack that was harry potter themed and i thought of u lol [11:15AM] namjoon 👨🏼‍🚀: i bought it for u btw 😊

(10) listening without judging

When the front door slams shut, you know that something’s wrong.

Having opted for sitting in the natural light of the living room to finish your lab report, the sound of the door echoes loudly throughout the empty house. It’s only you home, since Yoongi has volleyball practise until six this evening, which means it’s Jeongguk who’s home and apparently, not in a very good mood.

Jeongguk doesn’t realise you’re in the living room until he enters it, stopping suddenly in the doorway when he sees you cross-legged on the carpet near the coffee table. His eyes are red and swollen, his nose shiny from where he’s been crying and sniffling. The sight makes your stomach churn with an indescribable feeling, and you immediately rise to your feet.

“Jeongguk? What’s wrong- did something happen?” you ask him, not stepping forward until you know he’s okay.

Jeongguk’s sensitive, the baby of the friendship group, and sometimes you forget to go easy on him. He sighs loudly and drops his backpack to the floor with a thud. His books curl inside loudly and he drags his feet across the floor to get to the couch. He moves as if he’s going to sit down and then stops, turning to you. His bottom lip curls like he’s about to cry, and then he opens his arms for a hug. You immediately move forward.

“Oh, Jeonggukkie,” you coo, stroking his hair and moving to sit on the sofa. Jeongguk comes down with you and you rest his head on top of your breasts, granting him this once in a lifetime opportunity and he doesn’t even register it. He just cries, loudly and comfortably, his arms around you as he sobs. “Oh, my baby. What happened?”

Jeongguk hiccups. “Do-Doesn’t matter. It’s dumb.”

“No, it’s not. Something hurt your feelings, and your feelings aren’t dumb,” you tell him seriously. Stroking the hair out of his face, you peer down at him. “Come on. Tell me, I won’t judge or tell anybody else. You can trust me.”

He sniffs loudly, but you don’t cringe. He blinks, tears falling and he embarrassingly wipes the tears away, nodding. “Okay.” And then the words come out like vomit.

“I just. You know how I liked Sooyoung, right? Well, we were talking- everyone knows we were, but still, we were talking, and I just really liked her and wanted her to like me. I did all this stuff for her, planned all these dates and got her flowers. I thought she liked flowers, girls like flowers. I know we joke that you’re one of the guys, but even you liked those flowers I got for you. So, I got her this pretty necklace with an S on it and was going to give it to her and so I went to her practise room. She does dance, you knew she does dance, right? Yeah. And so I went to the room and was in the room talking to her when the door opens and this guy comes in and he comes up to her and they kiss and I just. She. She told me she didn’t want to rush into dating and that she liked me, and then she suddenly started dating someone else and I’m just really hurt and confused. Did I do something wrong? Am I ugly? Am I annoying, I just...I don’t know what I did. I really liked her.”

You don’t say anything as he talks. You just listen intently, nodding against his head with a low hum and stroking his hair gently.

“I know it’s silly and stupid that I’m crying over a girl, it’s just…” He sighs. “It hurts.”

You sigh, too. “It’s not silly and stupid. What Sooyoung did was really shitty and it’s natural that it hurt your feelings. You did absolutely nothing wrong, though. The flowers were pretty, and you didn’t force her into anything, and you were so kind and patient. Any girl would be lucky enough to have you as a boyfriend. Sooyoung missed out! You’re so good, Jeongguk, one of the best guys I know. And you’re not ugly! That’s an insult to actual ugly people! If you’re ugly, then what are we?” He laughs shyly and you smile, “Huh? What are we?”

“Okay, sorry,” Jeongguk laughs, pressing his cheek into your torso with a wide smile. His hands loop together behind your back, meek and timid, and he sighs, this time less sadly. “Maybe I’m destined to be alone forever…”

“You’re being dramatic, now,” you sigh. “The right person is waiting for you. Just give it some time.”

Jeongguk thinks about that for a moment. “Wanna date me if I end up alone and single aged thirty?”

Loudly, you let out a laugh. “Yeah right. You know what, fine. Even though I know you won’t be, if we’re both single by thirty, I’ll marry you. How about that?”

Jeongguk hums. “Cool. Is it safe to have kids after thirty?”

You let out a wheeze, taken aback by Jeongguk’s question. “Woah there. I said I’d marry you, not birth your children! Besides, you’re acting like thirty is ancient! Lots of women have kids aged thirty.”

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t know! My Mom was only young.”

“I can’t believe you just asked me to have kids with you when we’re thirty…”

“Might as well make our marriage interesting,” Jeongguk shrugs.

You quite literally have nothing to say to that.

(11) making someone laugh so hard that their whole body shakes

“Ow- stop! I’m going to pee!”

You don’t think you’ve seen Seokjin laugh at a joke that’s not his own in quite some time. Tonight, across the table in the retro diner that’s been converted and opened in town, he has surprised you. The entire booth shakes with laughter, from all sides and directions. Seokjin leans up against the window, clutching his side with Jimin, Mina and Yoongi all stuffed next to him on the skinny one seater. Next to you, on either side, is Hoseok and Taehyung, with Jeongguk and Namjoon at the counter ordering more drinks.

“What?” you ask, laughing. You’re not laughing because it’s funny, but more so because you have no idea what it is you did to make him laugh so hard. “What did I say?”

Seokjin can hardly get his words out, choking halfway on air and having to reach for his drink which shakes in his hand. He sips and gasps for air: “Just-your...face!” Then he cracks up again, like it’s the literal joke of the century. You just don’t get it.

“What did I do?” you ask. “What’s so funny?”

Seokjin can’t breathe.

“Oh my God,” Yoongi comments, smiling with disbelief and covering his mouth as he laughs. Mina’s french fries are stone cold as she laughs and leans into Yoongi’s side for support.

“Fuck. Y/N, you’re so funny, I love you so much,” Seokjin cries. Cries, literally; there are tears pooling out of his eyes, and he wipes them, sighing loudly as he laughs a few more times.

You’re going to take the compliment happily, and move on. To this day, you never found out what was so funny…

(12) hanging out in furniture stores and testing every couch there is

“Take a picture of me so we can pretend this is our house for Instagram.”

You sigh, taking out your phone and snapping a photo of Taehyung, lounging his legs apart across a lime green sofa that looks like it’s been hauled out of a 70’s magazine. One of the best things about Taehyung is that he’s easy to please, eccentric and adventurous just like you. Taehyung could be taken to a junkyard for a first date and somehow he’d still find it fun. He didn’t watch Bottletop Bill and his best friend Corky and leave not taking some inspiration on what to do with scrap junk.

It slowly became a tradition to go to the weirdest places with Taehyung as your date. On weekends or free weekdays you shared, you’d text Taehyung and get him to come with you to somewhere new. On today’s list, IKEA. It’s not totally crazy, or weird or wacky, just something you don’t think you’d do with Yoongi for fun. Taehyung loved the idea.

Taehyung’s making it a mission to sit on every bit of furniture he can find. As he takes a ride up the elevator to the first and main starting point of IKEA, he immediately notices the display couches and stares at you excitedly: “Let’s pretend we’re about to buy our dream house and test all the couches.”

Your eyes light up. “Yes! We can pretend we’re on a TV show reviewing them.”

You don’t think you’ve ever seen Taehyung more excited. “Oh my God, yes!” Then he grabs your hand, tugging you towards a cream themed living display. “Let’s go, wifey! Time to review.”

(You very nearly leave IKEA with a bright red sofa that looks like it’s been handmade and the bottom pillows are patterned with tiny cherries. Sadly, you’re both broke and you don’t have a car to take it home.)

((Taehyung’s devastated.))

(13) deep conversations when it's deep in the night

Sometimes, Yoongi stays awake until the early hours in the living room and kitchen. On days where you can’t sleep, you can hear him pacing around, softly grunting as he walks, something he does without really realising and something you love about him. On occasion, you join him. Like tonight, for example.

Yoongi’s curled up on the kitchen counter when you wake up and leave your room to find him. He sits with his back up against the cupboards, the kitchen window open with a cigarette out the window. Catching your gaze wide-eyed, he moves as if he’s going to put the cigarette out but you stop him.

“I told Jeongguk I’d stop,” Yoongi explains. Inside, he’s just grateful you’re not Jeongguk tonight. The cigarette lets off steam. He doesn’t smoke as often as he used to, just when he needs to. Yoongi looks away from the window as you pick yourself up to sit on the cupboards parallel to him. A bottle of wine is out, and you quietly take off the top and take a large swig.

“You don’t have to explain anything to me,” you tell him honestly. “It’s okay. I won’t tell Jeongguk, too. There’s a new air freshener in the cupboard under the sink. Use that when you’re done.”

Yoongi nods. “Yeah. Thanks, Y/N.”

“Why’d you go back to smoking anyway? Didn’t you tell Jeongguk that you were stopping because you didn’t want to die, or something?” It’s a joke, Yoongi snorts in reply.

“You know how he feels about it. I do too, and I guess I just felt bad about it. It was bad enough for him growing up and at home, and he told me about his brothers asthma attacks because of it and how he almost died, and how his parents smoked religiously and it made them act a certain way.” Yoongi sucks in his breath, like he’s realising what lighting the cigarette means. “It’s not weed. Not what his parents did, but. Still, fuck.” He decides to put it out.

For a while, you don’t say anything to Yoongi. Staring at him is telling enough, and you watch as Yoongi regrets what he’s done so much that he pales, his eyes watering.

“I don’t want to let him down,” Yoongi admits truthfully. “He’s like my little brother. I don’t wanna hurt him, fuck.”

He rocks his head back, sighing into the night. Down below the window, over the small little cliffside that he can see from his window that looks down onto the freeway behind the flat, he watches the lines of traffic whiz by, like long white lights, the honks like ASMR in his ears.

“If you’re going back to bed, can you go in my room and take the rest of my cigs out? Don’t wanna feel tempted by them. Toss them out or something, will you?”

You nod immediately, taking another drink of wine. This gulp stings. “Course. Yeah, I’m gonna go now actually.” You hop down off the counter, handing the bottle and placing it next to Yoongi. “Don’t stay up too late, mkay?”

“Yeah. Thanks.”

You shrug in reply, Yoongi frowns. As you walk towards the doorway that separates the kitchen and the hall, you turn around and look back at Yoongi, calling his name. Yoongi looks over and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

“Love you,” you tell him. A smile follows, and Yoongi blinks tiredly.

“I love you too. Goodnight, Y/N.”

He watches as you disappear into the darkness of the hallway and then faces the nighttime again. The smell of cigarettes lingers, and his stomach churns. Yoongi reaches for the air freshener you mentioned and sprays it generously, sniffing and then turning off the lights to the kitchen. Jeongguk will wake up and complain about the window being open, and might even notice the ash on the windowsill, but, like you, he still loves his big brother regardless.

(14) holding hands while jaywalking so that u Both get hit by a car

“Now!”

A squeal leaves your mouth as Jeongguk grabs a hold of your hand and literally pulls you across the road. A car that speeds down the road presses the horn loud enough to turn a few heads and Jeongguk grins boyishly, raising his hand as if to say sorry even though you’re far enough away to not get hit. Jeongguk’s motto for jaywalking is We Hold Hands, Because We Go Together Or We Don’t Go Down At All, or something. You know he stole half of it from an All Time Low song, but it works, and the song slaps.

From across the road, on the side you and Jeongguk are running towards, Hoseok gapes at the both of you and his eyes bulge out of his head.

“You two have a death wish!” he yells.

“But we lived, bitch!” Jeongguk replies, raising a gang sign to which Hoseok pulls a face at.

“I literally cannot stand you,” Hoseok seethes, walking away even though he’s supposed to be going out for dinner with the both of you. You and Jeongguk share a look that ends in a burst of giggles and run after Hoseok, capturing each of his arms with your own. He complains all the way to the restaurant, even though he loves it.

(15) randomly buying a flower for someone

“Delivery.”

Namjoon’s voice lifts your head. He stands behind the reception desk of your flat complex with a small bunch of flowers in his left hand. If he didn’t already know that you were working your two hour shift today, then he’s lucky he caught you. The sight of a bouquet of wildflowers makes your heart soar curiously.

“For someone special?” you wonder. Maybe he’s delivering to someone in the complex. Namjoon’s a sweetie like that.

Namjoon blinks. “Yeah. You.” He holds the bouquet outwards, with a bright smile. “They were for sale outside as I got off my subway. Thought of you, again. Happy early birthday.”

“My birthday’s in, like, seven months,” you say.

“That’s why it’s for your early birthday,” Namjoon replies.

You don’t know what to say. “They’re so pretty, thank you. Hey - can you go up to my flat and put them in a vase? I’ve still got an hour here, they might dry out if they’re kept down here.”

Namjoon nods instantly. “Sure. Gimme your key?” You slide the key across the desk towards Namjoon and he takes it swiftly. “Cool. Glad you like them. Enjoy your shift, Y/N.”

“Unlikely,” you groan. “Thanks, Joonie!”

He smiles as he reaches the door, sticking his tongue out to you as he prepares to climb the stairs. That elevator needs fixing urgently, and all you can think about is how much you love your friends.

(16) letting ur friends taste ur food and also tasting theirs to the point where u basically ate a fair amount off of each plate on the table

“What do you mean you’ve never tried a steak before?” Yoongi sighs so loudly that it turns a few heads. “Okay. Take a bite, it’s called charity and I’m generous. Come on.”

Yoongi even cuts you a slice and leans over the table to let you taste it. Beside you, Namjoon cringes when you close your teeth around the fork and pull the steak off, taking several bites and widening your eyes with wonder a Yoongi. You have just unlocked a taste sensation!

“Like it?” Yoongi asks.

“Mhm! It’s so easy to eat,” you observe. You look at Namjoon, “try his.”

Yoongi sighs. He willingly shares his food out. You glance down at your own meal, a pretty pasta dish that Jeongguk looks at from next to Yoongi.

“What is that? It looks good,” Jeongguk asks.

“Spaghetti Al Pomodoro,” you quote from the menu. Jeongguk laughs, because who goes to a restaurant and orders spaghetti? “Stop, I don’t know the menu, I played it safe!”

“Lemme try,” Jeongguk invites himself to try the taste, twirling his fork around the pasta and sucking it up like a scene in Lady and the Tramp. This sets off a sequence around the table, something you can’t help but snigger at. Namjoon lets you try some of his curry and Yoongi tries Jeongguk’s burger. By the time everybody on the table has tried everybody elses meals, you finally look back at your plate and notice that literally half of the meal’s now gone. Yoongi has about one bite of steak left, and Jeongguk could easily finish his burger in one bite.

“I hope everyone enjoyed my meal,” Yoongi says sarcastically, and he angrily chews his last piece of steak.

Namjoon looks up with a bright smile. “Yeah I did. Thanks!”

(17) "give me that I'll carry it for u"

Sometimes, Hoseok stops by at the reception to help out, especially during finals or midterms when you could really use those two years of monitoring an empty email inbox to study. Today, one of the newer residents, Somi, is on the desk and is playing Club Penguin on the computer, and you’re shoved into the back storage room with Hoseok, filing everybody’s mail and parcels.

It’s so messy in here, and looks like it hasn’t had a good clean out since it was first built, which might sound ridiculous, but have you seen all of this dust?

“Can you guys take out the trash?” One of the other workers, Siwon, pokes his head into the back room.

“You only just asked us to do this, though,” Hoseok points out with his hands on his hips.

Siwon shrugs, “Okay. And? Get to work.”

He turns and leaves as Hoseok gives him the middle finger, groaning as he arches his back to relieve pain that’s developed from being hunched over for too long. The trash bags are enormous and bulky with weight, shoved into a single room that absolutely honks. Hoseok grimaces as he opens the door and drags some bags out, deliberately ignoring a suspicious juice leaving a trail behind one of the ones he’s just brought into the back room.

“That literally stinks,” you complain.

“Yep.”

While Hoseok continues to haul bags out of the trash room, you take it upon yourself to drag the bags out to the back, towards the giant tip that’s collected by the bin-men the following day. After two or three trips, Hoseok steps out of the room and notices you struggling to pick a big bag up off the floor over your shoulder, like Santa’s sack.

“Give me that, I’ll carry it for you,” Hoseok offers, already stepping forward.

“No!” you protest stubbornly. “I’ve got this.”

“You’re so full of bullshit,” Hoseok howls. He ignores you and snatches the bag out of your hands. You’ll never admit it, but it feels good to not have the twisty material burning your fingers. “Sit down. You’ve worked hard.”

“Don’t patronise me,” you scold.

He giggles, “sorry. You’re too cute. Keep filling in those forms, kill two birds with one stone?”

You wait until Hoseok’s out of the room to cradle your fingers. Fucking hell, that hurts.

(18) helping ur friend decide what to wear while also reminding them that they look amazing no matter what

“You’re not going to the Met Gala, Jimin. Just wear jeans, my dude.”

“No. No, no, ignore him.” You throw a glare in Jeongguk’s direction and shift on your stomach, watching Jimin frantically search through his wardrobe. “This is important. This is serious. He’s going to see a potential employer, Jeongguk.”

“Yeah,” Jimin taunts, “so go be jobless and broke somewhere else.”

Jeongguk snorts, “I have a job, though…”

“Okay, get out of my room. Y/N, help me.”

“You looked good in the last four outfits,” you say to him honestly. “What’s wrong with this one, hm?”

You stand up, moving to one of the outfits laid out on the floor. It’s a pretty combination of clothes; a patterned white shirt that’s both formal and casual, with black trousers and brown shoes.

“I don’t like the shoes,” Jimin mumbles, continuing to search.

“Okay...Why don’t we just…” You crouch, moving a pair of black shoes from outfit number three to outfit number two. Now the shoes are black, and the outfit looks great. “Do that? What do you think?”

Jimin looks down at it, biting his bottom lip. “Is it good?”

“Yeah, totally,” you nod with enthusiasm. “It shows your personality whilst also remaining professional. And you looked super handsome in it.” Jimin faces you with a shy smile, “Trust me. It’s the one.”

It takes some reluctance and convincing, but Jimin eventually settles on outfit number two. All it took was some convincing and abuse of his praise kink.

(And he got the job.)

(19) being involved in every bad hair decision (dyeing ur friend's hair grey in between playing with their switch)

Three games into Mario Kart, you realise that you urgently need to email Nintendo and play I’m-Karen-Let-Me-See-The-Manager. Nintendo Switches are so dangerously addictive that Seokjin has you watching him play as grey hair dye bleaches his scalp. You can’t help but watch as he wins race after race, a streak of ten to beat tonight with King Boo as his racer every damn time.

“Fuck, your hair!” You must have said that so many times that Seokjin’s bound to get sick of it. He glances up at his reflection and eyes the sight on his head.

“Looks fine,” he shrugs.

“Let me remind you that it looks fine because the colour’s okay at the front. It looks kinda...patchy at the back.” You reach for the dye, “We’re low. Seokjin, we’re in trouble.”

He shrugs again. “Whatever. We can make a new trend.”

“Hell no. If it looks shit, I’m paying for you to get it done professionally ...which, you should have just done in the first place. I'm not a hairdresser!”

“And thank fuck for that!” Jimin steps into the living room and laughs nervously. “That looks hideous!”

This time, Seokjin’s eyes raise icily.

“It’s not that bad…” you mutter. “It’s okay. I’ll fix it.”

“The only way to save your hair is to just sacrifice it all,” Jimin sighs. “You know what, I’ve got a razor in my cupboard, let’s bring forward bald Seokjin.”

“I’ll take the patchy scalp,” Seokjin threatens.

“It’s really not that bad,” you pout quietly, attempting to fix the mess at the back of his head.

Okay - you’re lying. It’s awful. It’s a total disaster. But when Seokjin gets a good look at it, and he does take a good long look, he just shrugs and puts down the mirror.

“It’s a trend,” he decides. Mario Kart resumes and you’re rendered absolutely speechless.

(20) paying attention

When forced into a group of friends outside of your own, you always had a tendency to stand out in the worst ways possible. It’s not as if you stood out for being different, or funny or pretty. No; outside of your close circle of friends, you were the obvious outsider. You stuck out like an imposter, like a red flower amongst white ones.

This get together hosted by one of Jeongguk’s other friends, Joshua, takes place in his crazy expensive lake house in the countryside, owned by his parents and left to him when he turned eighteen. It’s remarkable that you got invited, to be honest. But, when Jeongguk’s your best friend, you get vouched for, granted permission to stay for the weekend in the one of many rooms, with the exception of sharing a room with two other guys. Jeongguk doesn’t mind sharing a bed for the weekend with Jimin, as long as you’re comfortable in your own.

And you’re not blind - it’s not hard to figure out why a big group of girls who had managed invitations were clinging to your circle of friends. You had lucked out in a way that ensured your entire group were visuals, everybody stunning in their own unique way. Joshua and his friends are here too, obviously, but their eyes are only on a certain segment of the group. From this angle, one of the girls who made her way over to the sofas sits with her back in your general direction, and it sort of feels like primary school all over again where you were the odd one out.

You try not to let it bother you, though. As the guys play polite and laugh when needed and talk casually, something slips up in conversation: “Well, actually-” One of the girls is talking, blinking repetitively in Namjoon’s direction with a sweet smile, “I think I have more guy friends than girls. Girls are so hard to talk to sometimes.”

“Right?” one of the others says with a sigh. “I wish I had more male friends. I want to move in with some in the future.”

You inhale. This is a good conversation to jump into. “Same,” you say. The girl in front of you turns around slightly, perhaps only just remembering that you were there in the first place. “I’ve been friends with these guys forever now, and living with them is so…” You notice after a short ramble that the girls turned back around, and she’s not even listening. You trail off, looking bored, “who am I even talking to?”

But from across the coffee table on the other couch, Yoongi furrows his brows and sets his glass down. “Y/N’s right,” he announces, and you look up at the same time as the other girls. Like they’re confused, they look at the group and then back at you, as if wondering the connection. “You know, guys are always told being friends with girls is impossible, but Y/N’s the glue that keeps us together.”

Jeongguk nods, “Mhm, exactly! You know, they said that it would be hard being friends with girls because you’d catch feelings, but Y/N’s so repulsive that it’s not even that hard...”

You glare at him, “Ha-ha. Very funny.”

“Trust me,” Chaeyoung pops up, having been sat silently in between Taehyung and Mark for the past twenty six minutes, “it’s not all that.” The girls look at her, “Men are disgusting. I don’t know how Y/N does it. These guys are the repulsive ones...I was in their flat for five minutes and I think I caught three diseases.”

“Hey, don’t drag my apartment into this,” you pout. Yoongi shakes his head with a smile and watches you, happy that the frown that was once on your features had disappeared into a smile. Hey, in a weird way, this was a good conversation to jump into!

The girls around you share glances, as though they’ve just clocked on to how important you are to these guys and how ignoring you won’t make them like them more, and eventually, you’re included in the conversation. You make a mental reminder to thank the fuck out of Yoongi for paying attention to you, even when you’re silently in the background.

(21) being aware and understanding of someone's financial situation ("dw I'll pay for u")

“We all need matching ones. Look, one each!”

Jeongguk excitedly crouches in front of one of the display cases, marvelling at the sight of tiny little charms on foam boxes, smiling up at you all. It makes you weak seeing how childlike Jeongguk actually is, how he gets excited over shiny things like a little magpie. Today is one of those rare afternoons where you’re all miraculously free, and it had been Namjoon’s idea to go out somewhere and hang out. Seoul is filled with beautiful and secret places to explore like a tourist and he takes up the opportunity.

This shop is dinky and in a weird place between an ice-cream shop and a fish market, probably scammy and has definitely seen better days. But Namjoon likes it, and Yoongi vouches for it because he’s been here before with Namjoon when they brought a watch for Jimin. Okay, yes, it was a designer watch, but it was way cheaper from this shop and, wait, who cares if it’s fake? Nobody noticed until now.

You stand behind Jeongguk, peering down at the charms. They’re all so cute and cartoon-like, each charm you view immediately reminding you of another friend. For Jeongguk, the rabbit. Taehyung could have the paintbrush or camera, Jimin definitely could have the apple because of the fact that his new favourite thing to say is An Apple A Day Keeps The Demons Away. It makes no sense, but he learns to roll with it.

“They’re cute,” Hoseok comments, smiling widely.

“They should be cute, for thirty dollars a charm!” you gape, pointing out the price. “I thought this was a shop that sold things cheaper?!”

“They’re usually around sixty,” Namjoon shrugs.

“For why?” you exclaim.

Nobody hears that, or if they do, they ignore it. With a sigh, you turn away from the case and start looking at something else. Thirty dollars for a small charm is insane, and you don’t have that kind of money. As Taehyung and Jeongguk start picking charms for everybody, your heart rate quickens.

How can you tell them that you don’t want a charm because you can’t afford a charm without disappointing them and sounding like you’re asking one of them to buy you one? In your panic, Seokjin worms his way up behind you and rests his arm up on your head like an arm-rest.

“Have you picked a charm?” he asks, and you look away instantly. “Hey,” he says, noticing that, “what’s up, buttercup?”

You sigh reluctantly. “I can’t afford to get one of those…”

Seokjin blinks and frowns slightly. “Oh. Well, that’s okay. I’ll pay for you.”

“No way!” you hiss at him, poking a finger into his chest. “Kim Seokjin, don’t you dare-!”

“Hey, I owe you, it’s cool,” Seokjin assures you.

“Owing me because I paid for your McDonalds is not the same as spending thirty dollars on a tiny charm.”

“They’re friendship charms,” he explains. “It’s symbolic for our friendship. Look, stay silent and pretty and let me get you something nice. Please?”

In this one instance, Seokjin doesn’t take no for an answer and invites himself into the small huddle of guys around the charms and picks one out for you. Seokjin picks you a love heart, because he knows that no matter what, there’s a love between the guys and you that nothing can pull apart.

(22) looking stupid in public together (dancing in stores to overplayed pop songs)

You hear it at the same time as Jeongguk.

One thing you don’t mind that much about Korea is that the sound of random K-POP groups follows you around everywhere you go. You actually kind of like it, because the songs are catchy enough and Jimin and Hoseok like it for the dances. But, my God, if you have to hear Momoland’s Bboom Bboom one more time, you might explode.

Over the hum of the refrigerators in the small GS25, where you and Jeongguk are examining the surprisingly large collection of flavoured milks, you hear those guitar strums and just as the horns roll in, you and Jeongguk share a glance and immediately do The Thing.

The Thing is recreating the entire dance routine to the song, which you had both decided to learn when you were bored and procrastinating during midterms. Everybody else in your friendship group deems it the single most embarrassing thing that you and Jeongguk do in public next to jaywalking, and maybe you can see why. The chorus rolls by and you’re both shimmying, pointing finger hearts to each other, and it’s rolling to an end when one of the cashiers turns the corner with a big tray of iced coffee in her arms.

She pauses and so do the both of you, in an intense stare off until she cowers and scurries to put down the tray and carefully shelf the drinks. Jeongguk looks at you with the urge to laugh and picks a random milk off the shelf, urging you out of the aisle to pay. When you’re outside and free from the judgement of the cashier, Jeongguk laughs on the floor for about five straight minutes.

(23) looking stupid in public together (singing loudly in ur car)

“JUST GO AHEAD AND HATE ON ME AND RUN YOUR MOUTH!”

“So everyone can hear!”

“HIT ME WITH THE WORST YOU GOT AND KNOCK ME DOWN!”

“Oh, baby, I don’t care.”

“KEEP IT UP AND SOON ENOUGH, YOU’LL FIGURE OUT!”

Both of your voices: “You wanna be, you wanna be, A LOSER LIKE ME!”

In the backseat, Yoongi shrinks further down until his bum is hanging off the chair, in the footwell where his knees are. “Please kill me.”

(24) hugging people when u say hi and goodbye to them

Hoseok is one of the best friends you could ever ask for. One, he’s friendly. Two, he’s funny. Three, he’s cute. Four, he hugs you when you arrive somewhere and again when you leave, and you absolutely love it.

“Y/N, hi!” His voice is the first to call out to you when you walk into the Open Day fair at your Uni. You look awful, overslept and still half asleep, but he comes towards you with a smile and engulfs you in a hug. “You look cute. Sleep well?”

That’s not to say the other guys don’t hug you, because they definitely do. But, Hoseok’s always the first.

(25) being there for someone even if u can't help them

“Go ahead. Laugh at me like everybody else.”

Jimin and Jeongguk are the ones who are unfortunately tasked with dealing with a tragically grieving Y/N. It’s unfortunate to you, but they don’t mind one bit. The last thing they expected to see when they came back to Jeongguk’s apartment to watch more episodes of Mindhunter on Jeongguk’s TV, was you curled up on the window seat with red eyes and a runny nose.

“Why would we laugh at you, baby?” Jeongguk asks, rubbing your back. He’s sat next to you and Jimin is by your feet, rubbing them and your legs with his soft hands.

You sniff uglily, but none of them say anything. “Cause. Cause it’s just a fish, I guess.”

“It was still your pet,” Jimin points out sadly. “Susan was a great fish.”

You sniff again, crying some more. “I just feel like a bad owner. Maybe the bowl wasn’t big enough, and maybe I didn’t feed her enough...I don’t want her to have died because of me.”

“Hey, now,” Jeongguk assures softly, “I’m sure she died peacefully. You were the best fish Mom ever. Susan’s in a better place now.” He glances over at Jimin nervously, “Like, fish heaven?”

For a moment you don’t say anything, and Jeongguk thinks maybe that was too much. But then you turn to him with a hopeful expression. “You really think so?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jeongguk replies.

“Susan’s still with you in your heart,” Jimin adds. He’s not too great at the comforting thing. “You were so good to her. If I was a fish, I’d want you to be my Mom.”

Jeongguk looks at Jimin with a deadpan face. Maybe that was too much, but you smiled, and that’s something to Jimin. Even if he doesn’t know what to do to help, the least he can do is be there for you.

(26) "this reminded me of u"

[03:15AM] namjoon: hehe [03:15AM] namjoon: this reminded me of u ^__^ [03:16AM] namjoon: [1 Image Attached]

[03:20AM] y/n: there r no words….

(27) allowing people to be human, with everything that this entails

University truly has been the best years of your life. There’ve been rough spots financially and mentally, but your key support system has been the circle of friends you’re proud to love and live with. Even when they’re a little bit chaotic, sometimes really annoying and loud and tiring, you still love them, and every quality that comes along with loving them.

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sadwsocc · 5 years

Text

Kenma x Reader soulmate au

an au where whatever they wrote/ drew on their skin would show up on their soulmates skin too

word count: 3,473 words

genre: fluff??? idk

a/n: i really liked writing this one because kenma is actually my fav lmao but i think i wrote his name too many times so it might be a tad bit weird

Kenma was partially annoyed by how often his soulmate would doodle on their body, more specifically their left hand and knees, yes, knees. And he would be annoyed by the amount of questions he got from his teammates about the doodles on his body whenever they had practice. there were always a bunch of stars tethered on his knees in colourful ink (mostly green, purple, black and blue) Whoever his soulmate was, he was definitely annoyed yet intrigued by them.

Kenma didn't know why his soulmate would be up at 2 in the morning while he was playing video games but during those times, a bunch of smiley faces and random doodles would appear. yet, Kenma never made an effort to do make it known that he knew those doodles were there as they would rub it off after awhile. Kenma had no intentions of contacting his soulmate anytime soon.

That was until one fateful midnight, he noticed that there wasn't any doodles appearing on his skin, he assumed his soulmate fell asleep, finally. he decided it would be fun if he took initiative and doodles something, pausing his game he went over to his desk and grabbed a pen.

right when the tip of his pen was about to touch on Kenma's skin, it stopped. Kenma thought long and hard about what to draw or write since he didn't think he could be par with his soulmates clean and neat doodles. deciding on writing a small message, he proceeded to write on his forearm "took you long enough to sleep". he hoped that he would get a reply by morning when she awoke but to his surprise, a new message popped up on his right knee, "im not asleep yet".

"oh" he spoke aloud even though there wasn't anyone in his room. grabbing his pen, he wrote again, "oh". 'Very original' he thought to himself. he waited for a few moments and got an answer back on his other knee, "hi" beside it was a smiley face. Kenma was surprised that he would finally get to have a proper chat with his soulmate... at two in the morning— on a school night. Kenma thought about what to reply to her, 'a simple "hello" would be enough' he thought, which was what he wrote below the 'hi' his soulmate wrote.

moments later his soulmate wrote back with three dots, not knowing what else to write to him and continued, "sorry for the constant doodles—i get bored easily". Kenma sighed, at least his soulmate was self aware. he replied with "its fine", to which a smiley face was drawn again by his soulmate as a reply. that was the end of their little rendezvous, life continued onwards. the two of them made no effort to try to find each other, the doodles were still constant, the weird little notes that appeared on Kenmas palm sometimes would still be present, it was as if their short lived chat never occurred.

———

(y/n) liked to draw. a lot.

whenever you saw a piece of paper that was blank, you'd fill it up with doodles and drawings and when there were no paper in sight you would result in drawing on your own skin or your friend's. your friends didn't mind, nor did their soulmates as they all knew the only person who would draw such things was you, if they ever saw stars appear or little cat doodles or just basic characters from shows you had watched, they would know it was you. it was a known fact.

your skin would never be blank, ever. there would always be that one smiley face or that one random quote that would be hidden somewhere that was noticeable. it was fun for you.

you always wondered when you'd meet your soulmate, your friends all met theirs, mainly through telling them their names and what school they went to, it was— as you liked to call it— the easy way out. a good example of that would be your friend, Kaori, she found her soulmate when she wrote her identity and her phone number on her forearm last year, which was also the two of your first year at Nekoma High. Turns out, her soulmate was some kid named Kuroo that was a year older than the two of you. you had met him like once or ten-no-twenty times when he visited you and Kaori's class, his bedhead had never gone unnoticed to you, in fact it left quite an imprint on you, it was just too... unnatural.

from what you heard the way Kaori found Kuroo was when she told you that she once wrote on her hand that she would be going to Nekoma High, which she knew that her soulmate would be there (they keep in touch through writing i guess) and from then on they would write to each other profusely.

the first day of school and you had saw her anxiously walking around trying to find some dude that was drawn on her hand by her soulmate (it didn't look that good and you could hardly tell it was even a person at all until she stated it to you knowingly). you snickered as she tried to tell you how she thinks it's sweet and thought how her soulmate would go as far as to draw a 'self portrait' for her to find him.

you were in awe when a tall dude with hair that kinda fitted the drawing on Kaori's palm showed up and introduced himself to her, they were blushing and all. you remembered seeing a boy with rather long black hair (first year Kenma didn't have pudding hair, author checked) shielding himself behind Kuroo. you paid no mind to him, of course, you weren't really going to school to make friends.

back to present, it was two in the morning and you were up all night reading, what exactly? we don't talk about that. well, you were reading until you felt someone writing something on your hands and saw a few words written on your hand. one led to another but eventually nothing really happened so you never mentioned it to anyone.

———

weeks after that little midnight incident, one day, Kaori dragged you to your school's volleyball gym —you didn't even know your school had volleyball much less a club— to accompany her visiting her boyfriend, Kuroo.

before she started dragging you, you were writing down your day's to-do list intently. Kaori's green pen that you were using to write down on your palm was suddenly dragged out, ruining you beautiful to-do list. you grunted and sighed, clicking the pen to put it in you pockets as she took you hand and hooked it to hers, forcing you to go along with her rendezvous.

Kaori pulled the gym door opened and there stood about a dozen boys in gym clothes staring at the two of you. they all greeted Kaori but not to you as you didn't know any of them, sure you've heard Kaori talk about them here and there, but most conversations about them were about Kuroo.

Kaori promptly introduced you to the volleyball team, "hey guys, this is (y/n), i dragged her along because i wanted you guys to see her drawings that i mentioned before." this earned a stare from you to your cheery friend and you finally spoke, "since when did i agree to this?". Kaori looked at you and simply said, "when i was dragging you here" with a smile.

you sighed and handed her your sketchbook which was inside your school bag. she thanked you and then went over to the crowd of boys who were intrigued by you sketchbook, leaving you on the side.

———

a little before this, while (y/n) was being dragged by Kaori to the gym:

Kenma felt a little tingly feeling from his palm again and assumed that his soulmate started writing something, he looked at his palm and saw a little to do list being written only for it to be ruined by a sudden line being dragged across. confusion arose from the pudding head as his bed headed friend took notice and glanced at his palm.

a little idea popped into Kuroo's mind as he thought about the only person he knew would have that kind of handwriting and would use that type of green pens. he knew for one that his girlfriend always complained about her pens being taken from her by her (h/c) haired friend and knew what (y/n)'s handwriting would be like from the constant borrowing of her notebooks from his girlfriend. Kuroo always has a fleeting suspicion but it never occurred to him that he would notify Kenma.

He also knew that Kenma had a slight interest on the (e/c) eyed girl from the one or two times he saw him glance at her during lunch or walking in the halls, Kuroo also somehow never mentioned that he knew the girl and the thought just kinda slipped through his mind.

"what's with the weird to do list?" Kuroo finally spoke earning a nonchalant glance from Kenma. "i don't know" Kenma said with a slight confused tone. Kuroo thought about how his girlfriend would be dragging her friend here to show off her friends talents to the team and how his girlfriend would drag people by the hand and the dots started connecting.

———

You were left alone while your sketchbook was being the star of the show resulting in you sitting on the sides next to a boy with overgrown blond hair. It was Kenma, the boy you saw on your first day of school and in the halls and everywhere. you constantly thought about him, though you don't know why. Perhaps it was his slightly long hair? Or the way he looked whenever you saw him playing on his handheld gaming console. He always intrigued you and you thought he was quite cute, whenever you walked pass his class or saw him in the halls your heartbeat sped up. Or could it be the soulmate attraction thing you heard rumours about? Part of you hoped he would be your soulmate but the other felt bad if he was due to your constant drawings on your skin.

The two of you were sitting with your legs close to your chests. You felt yourself becoming a bit jittery and anxious from sitting next to the boy you always thought about. Finally, throwing your dignity out of the window you asked, "Why aren't you going over there like the rest of your teammates?". He finally looked at you and said, " I don't like crowds." You gave him a soft smile, nodded and replied, "me neither". you didn't like crowds, you tended to stay away from them, sometimes avoiding them at all costs.

You realised it would be odd if someone you didn't know suddenly came in to the gym, sat down and started talking you so you promptly introduced yourself. "hi... I'm (y/n), (l/n) (y/n)." you paused thinking about what to say next and then continuing, "Kaori's friend" pointing to the energetic and cheerful girl over with the rest of the volleyball team.

Kenma looked at you for a few seconds longer and you started overthinking, 'What if he thinks you're weird?' 'What if he hates you?' 'Why would he hate you?'. You started a debate with yourself as he finally spoke, "Kenma, Kozume Kenma..."

Of course you knew his name already but it would make you sound like a stalker if you said something like, "I'm (y/n)! And you, sir, are Kozume Kenma, Kuroo's friend and a second year setter, whatever a setter is!" you didn't know much about volleyball but your friend told you about the boys volleyball team once and you ought to remember a few roles.

You glanced over to the game he was playing and immediately recognised the art style of the game. Your eyes lit up and blurted out, "hey! isn't that MonHun?" Kenma looked at you with a bewildered expression, "Yes... do you play it too?" he asked in a soft and quiet tone. You grinned and put your left hand on the nape of your neck, awkwardly rubbing it, "ah, umm... no... sorry. I just know a lot about games and I suck at it too to be honest."

Kenma looked at your for a second and went back to his game as you continued to look at his console. Little did you know, the two of your friends were silently gushing about how adorable and shy and awkward you and Kenma were being. One might not know if they weren't close to Kenma but Kuroo knew on an instant that Kenma was actually freaking out on the inside, to an outsider his attitude might not seem to change but to Kuroo, even the slightest difference was noticeable to him. Kenma seemed a bit giddy, his hand movements were quickened, more unstable as if he was panicking —which he was.

With a smirk playing on the bed headed teen's lips, he nudged Kaori with his elbows gently, "how long do you think they'll realise?" Kaori too had a fleeting suspicion about the two of you and now she was almost a hundred percent sure that her suspicions were confirmed. She stared at the two of you and pondered for awhile, with her right hand on her chin she said, "an hour?" Kuroo laughed a bit and ruffled his girlfriends hair, "you're so adorable." This made her blush profusely. Kaori then inquired, "should we tell them?" "Nah"

You realised that the team was taking a bit too long on admiring your sketchbook, you started to wonder if they were still absorbed in your art or they simply acted like they forgot they had practice. Making a small huff, you turned to look at Kenma again, staring intently in his game, he was on level 37. You heard the game was quite hard, you always wanted to play them but due to the fact that you inevitably sucked at it, you never bothered.

Minutes later, boredom got the best of you and you finally decided to ask, "Hey Kenma-san, can I borrow your console?"

"... after this level" he replied. Kuroo stared in awe as he saw you achieve something he was never able to —borrow Kenma's games whilst he was in the middle of a level. The third year captain was so proud of his friend's character development that he nearly teared up, whispering , "he grows up so fast" to Kaori, to which she giggled to.

After Kenma had beaten that level he handed it to you, setting his game level to the very first one. You awkwardly took it and stared fumbling with the controls. "I think I know how to play this" You said, "it's just dodging and attacking, right?" You rhetorically asked.

"Essentially, yeah" Kenma replied. Your heartbeat quickened and you suddenly felt awkward. A few button smashes and frantically waving the console around, you surprisingly passed level 1. You gave Kenma back his gaming console and raised up both your hands to celebrate beating the first level, you weren't expecting to actually win it, you were used to losing and being killed off. Kenma smiled at your cheery sight.

"High five, Kenma-san!" You said enthusiastically. Holding out both your hands towards him and waited for him to return your high five. Pausing his game and looking up from his console, he saw what you had written on your palm. Wide eyed, Kenma raised his hands to high five you, realising that you had the same green ink on your palm. You were too busy celebrating your victory you didn't bother to realise that he too had what you written on you palm. Putting down your hands, you saw that Kenma was still holding his out, you stared at him and then to his palm. It was then realisation hit you.

You lifted up your palm and stared into your hand and then to his, repeating this gesture for a sold three times before one of you spoke out.

"Are you-?" You asked, not bothering to finish your question. You quickly stood up and patted down the invisible dirt and wrinkles on your skirt and ushered him to wait as you ran over to your bag and grabbed out a baby blue pen you 'borrowed' from Kaori and went back over to Kenma. You turned over to show your wrist and started doodling a simple tulip on your wrist, Kenma in turn, turned around his arm and saw that he too had a baby blue inked tulip on his wrist.

Dropping the pen, you both stared at each other intently. "You're my soulmate" you both said quietly in unison. You let out a sigh of relief and immediately thought about the amount of times you've drawn on yourself.

"I'm- uh, sorry for the constant doodles, I get bored easily" you said meekly, covering your mouth with the collar of your shirt to hide the blush that was starting to appear on your cheeks. You smiled at you and told you that he rather enjoyed them and wouldn't mind if you continued to do so.

Kuroo and Kaori high fives each other as the other teammates were finally done looking at your sketchbook. They were now all looking at the two of you quietly sitting next to each other, cheeks tainted pink.

"What's up with Kenma-san?" Lev asked Kuroo. Kuroo smiled and told him, "he found his soulmate." Lev perked up and went over to where Kenma was and shook his hands to congratulate his senpai. "Kenma-san, congratulations! Today must be your lucky day! Your soulmate is very pretty and so are her drawings! You should look at them too!" As he said the last few parts, Lev looked at you. You gave him a shy smile with a faint blush and looked away, over to your short friend, you knew she was the one who had set this up indirectly.

After the whole ordeal, the two of you exchanged emails and talked about little things that had no meaning to it. You felt butterflies in your stomach the whole chat. He decided he would walk you back home along with Kuroo and Kaori, you assured him you would be fine but he insisted that his house was not far from yours so it was nothing.

"You know, Kenma-san, I kind of always liked you, even if you might've not been my soulmate," you said quietly while the four of you were walking back. You and Kenma walked as a pair while your friends walked behind the two of you at an excruciatingly slow pace which made the two of you decide to walk ahead of them.

Part of you hoped that he didn't listen as it would be rather embarrassing by the other half wanted him to know how much you love him as cheesy as it sounds. He heard it and stared down on the pavement you were walking on as did you. The two of you were so awkward together it was just too sweet. "Me too" he returned you a tone as soft and as quiet as yours.

"Do you think I can go over to your house someday, I kinda wanna play those games of yours" you voiced our in a shy tone. Kenma's eyes widen as he stared at you, thinking.

"Yeah".

The doodles never stopped from then on, maybe it even multiplied but Kenma didn't mind. He would sometimes show it to Kuroo and tell him thing like "Look what (y/n) drew," with hints of interest in his voice. It was absolutely adorable every time the two of you walked back home talking about your day. Somedays you would even stay over at his home and play his games, yet you still inevitably sucked.

#hq kenma #kenma x reader #best boy #haikyuu!!#haikyū #kenma #kozume kenma #nekoma #kuroo tetsurou #hq kuroo

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dvp95 · 4 years

Text

quiet on widow’s peak (6)

pairing: dan howell/phil lester, pj liguori/sophie newton/chris kendall rating: teen & up tags: paranormal investigator, mystery, online friendship, slow burn, strangers to lovers, nonbinary character, trans character, background poly, phil does some buzzfeed unsolved shit and dan is a fan word count: 2.9k (this chapter), 19.7k (total) summary: Phil’s got a list of paranormal experiences a mile long that he likes to share with the world. Abandoned buildings, cemeteries, and ghost stories have always called his name, and a particular fan of his has a really, really good ghost story.

read this chapter on ao3 or here!

Hope my friends and I didn't make things weird for you yesterday. We're heading to the city around noon if you're still up for helping us with the boring part.

noon?? fucking alright i guess i gotta put pants on

lmao yeah, sorry. My parents woke us up at EIGHT like that's a normal time to be awake????

desgostang

What?

ill send u the link later and also no i didnt feel weird yesterday you guys are nice

That's good! And hey I wanted to ask. You were kind of put on the spot with introducing yourself, would you rather we called you Dan or Winnie? I just wanna make sure we aren't making you uncomfortable at all lmao

no its all fine you can call me dan idc and actually its best if you do call me dan when youre in my work lmao

Are you totally sure?

why would i lie abt this. dont be an idiot it isnt a good look on you

haha okay. I’ll see you around noon.

“Christopher is a nice boy,” Phil’s mum is telling him as she helps him with their fancy new coffeemaker. There are so many buttons and Phil is so, so tired. “And Sophie is lovely, such a soft-spoken thing. Why haven’t we met them before, dear?”

“Dunno,” Phil says instead of the truth, which is that he’d had no idea how he was supposed to introduce them. “You have now, though.”

His mum laughs and reaches up to pat his cheek. “True enough. I’m so happy that you’ve got good people around you, Philip. I’ve gotten quite worried about you down there by yourself, you know.”

“I’m not by myself,” says Phil. “I live with, like, thirty people.”

“Bunch of strangers, I’ll bet,” she says, because she knows him. “Aside from those three.”

The thing is, she’s not wrong. Phil’s obviously exaggerating about the number of people under the roof of the creaky Brighton house, but the truth is that he can’t keep track half the time. A lot of the rooms get sublet out randomly, or a significant other will start spending so much time around the place that they might as well pay rent, and Phil really isn’t good with new people. He gets along fine with Holly and Dave, but they’ve been there as long as he has and the closest they’ve ever come to a heart-to-heart was comparing anxiety meds over burned pancakes.

Chris and Sophie were there when Phil moved in, and they’d taken one look at him and decided to just keep shoving into his space until he liked having them there, like they were on a mission to adopt PJ’s sad, ghost-obsessed friend from the internet.

“You might be right,” Phil says, feeling a smile tug at his lips for the first time all morning. He’s already had a coffee - and a half, when PJ declared that not even Kath could make coffee taste good and shoved the rest of his Phil’s way - but he still doesn’t feel fully awake. “I’m only really friends with Chris and Soph because of PJ.”

“PJ is a good friend to you, isn’t he?” his mum hums. That slightly pointed tone doesn’t get to Phil the way it usually does, because he knows that she’s just trying to understand him.

It doesn’t escape Phil’s notice that he’s looking into a mirror whenever he sees his parents watching him carefully, waiting for him to tell them something he hasn’t explicitly said, because he’s been doing the exact same thing to his housemates for nearly two years.

Maybe he’ll tell his parents when he’s got someone serious or even, like, semi-serious. Longer than two dates would be a record at this point. But right now he already feels like he’s been one misstep away from disappointing them, and he doesn’t want to take the gamble that his sexuality will be that misstep.

He’s not up for this conversation, though, isn’t sure he’ll ever be, so he just says, “Yeah, he is.”

Dan is late. They’re so late, actually, that Phil’s wheel of worst case scenarios has been spinning silently and getting faster and faster the more caffeine he chugs. They roll in with flushed cheeks and a jacket that looks too thin, apologies on their shiny lips that Phil doesn’t even hear for a couple of seconds because he’s too busy staring at them.

“No worries,” Sophie says, interrupting their rambling before they lose another half hour to it. “You want something? I’m getting a refill.”

“No, no, let me,” says Dan. They shrug off their jacket and hang it on one of the empty chairs. Phil and his friends have co-opted the largest table in the place so they can spread out with their laptops and notebooks, and it doesn’t escape Phil’s notice that Dan has decided to sit next to him when they’ve got a couple of options. “I get free drinks if Gabe’s in a good mood. Anyone else need a refill?”

“Me,” Chris says, not looking up from his screen. “Not Phil. He’s cut off.”

“Hey,” Phil protests weakly. His heart rate really has picked up since they sat down, so he knows Chris has a point.

Dan grins, their soft cheeks giving way to the dimples that Phil is very quickly growing obsessed with. He just wants to make Dan smile and laugh constantly, to hear them cackle and see all the lines in their round face deepen with happiness.

Right. Phil watched a horror movie with PJ instead of unpacking this fluttering start of a crush last night, and now he’s just got to deal with it for the rest of the day.

As if it’s a compulsion, Dan clears the empty mugs from their table before heading up to the counter. Phil focuses on the EMF readings so he doesn’t get caught up on Dan holding four mugs by the handles with total ease.

PJ has got headphones on and his eyes closed, so he might not even have noticed that Dan is there. He’s been going through Sophie’s footage and his own audio recordings to try and find some anomalies while Chris looks for the weird visual stuff - they’re a great team at that, and it makes Phil feel like he’s not doing enough. Sure, he could find those things on his own, but not as quickly as they can when it’s a team effort, and they’re on a bit of a tight schedule here. Well, his housemates are. They’ve got actual jobs to get back to once the weekend is over.

Allegedly, Sophie is doing research on sigils, but it looks to Phil like she’s just doodling. Not that he really blames her if she is. He’s barely been paying attention to the chart he’s making of spikes in electromagnetism because he’s been so busy watching the door for Dan.

And Dan looks… good. They’re wearing chunky boots and a shirt that falls to their thighs - a dress, maybe, but it looks like a regular black t-shirt that got extended at the hem - with tight white jeans. The only colour on them is the plaid shirt around their waist and the shiny red product on their lips to match it. Phil watches them lean against the counter and grin at the older barista, and he’s so distracted by looking at their profile that he startles when a foot connects with his under the table.

“Stop staring,” Sophie says, quiet and smiling. “He’s going to notice.”

Phil considers correcting her, but then he remembers that he probably doesn’t have to. Dan had said any pronouns, that they didn’t care how they were referred to, so it would definitely be weirder to act like he knows better than Sophie.

He knows he won’t be able to use masculine terms for Dan. Not because they aren’t true, because he’s pretty sure they’re no less accurate than neutral or feminine would be, but because thinking of Dan as a maculine person is only going to allow Phil’s brain to fall into the familiar traps of gender in ways he doesn’t want to allow.

Gay monkey brain doesn’t need any more leeway in finding Dan attractive, that’s for damn sure.

“So, what are we doing?” Dan asks, interrupting Phil’s thoughts, and, wow, four mugs is a lot more impressive when they’re full of hot liquid. Phil marvels at Dan’s ability not to trip and spill it all as they dole out the coffee and teas.

“I’m doing the boring part,” says Phil. He turns his screen so Dan can see the Excel spreadsheet and laughs at the face they make. “Yeah. It's not glamorous, but it's the easiest way to find patterns in the EMF readings. Honestly, most of my job is just staring at things and finding patterns in them. Like, uh, what's that guy? With the butterfly splotches?"

"Worcestershire," Chris suggests.

"Rorschach," Dan corrects him, lips twitching like they aren't sure if they're allowed to laugh in Chris' face or not.

“That’s exactly what I said,” says Chris.

“You know EMF meters don’t have anything to do with ghosts, right?” Dan asks, ignoring Chris completely and leaning a bit closer to Phil to get a better look at his laptop. “I mean, none of this has anything to do with ghosts, really, but you’re more or less just measuring electricity.”

Phil is aware of that. He wonders if Dan thinks he just stumbles into haunted houses with equipment he hasn’t researched and waits to be spooked. He’s too distracted by how close Dan is and how good they smell to work up to proper offense, though. “Yeah,” he says simply. “But don’t you think it’s weird that the place still has electricity to begin with? Who’s paying for that?”

“A Wilkins, I’d imagine.”

“But why? If they’ve forgotten about the property or abandoned it on purpose, surely they wouldn’t still pay the bills.”

“Maybe they don’t handle their own finances,” Dan suggests. “How rich were these assholes?”

“I honestly don’t know,” says Phil. He taps his fingers in an erratic pattern on the edge of his laptop, trying to spark something in his mind.

It’s almost disappointing when Dan pulls away to dig out their own sleek Macbook out of their messenger bag, but Phil is also glad for it. He can think a lot easier when the warm scent of spice and mint isn’t clogging his brain.

Dan slots into the work as easily as if a space was left for them. They’ve got dozens of tabs open already and they start to go through them, cross-referencing magic things with Sophie in quiet tones and digging deeper into the Wilkins family than Phil ever would have thought to. Every so often they tap Phil on the arm and drag him into whatever rabbithole they’ve fallen down, chatting animatedly.

Phil knows, objectively, that Dan is a fan of his and that Dan is weird about research. It’s another thing entirely to watch it happen in real time, to see Dan pull up local census PDFs from the eighties and explain why chaos magic is bullshit in the same breath.

An hour or so goes by like that, all of them working on their own things with minimal words exchanged by everybody but Dan, and then Chris shouts loud enough to make the barista jump. Nobody else is in the coffee shop right now, which is lucky, because Dan’s got a hand over their chest and Sophie has slopped tea down her front. PJ, with his headphones on, simply cracks an eye open.

“What the fuck was that about?” Phil asks, putting his own palm against his chest to feel his heart race. Dan raises their eyebrows and looks at Phil, seemingly distracted from the startling, wordless exclamation.

They don’t get a chance to say whatever they’re thinking, though, because Chris is turning his laptop to the rest of the table and grinning wide like the Cheshire Cat. “I found something.”

Everybody gathers round, PJ getting up to lean over the back of Phil’s chair and Sophie getting so far into Dan’s personal space that Phil is certain they’re uncomfortable with it, and then Chris presses play upside down. It’s part of Sophie’s footage, Phil standing in the dim foyer and looking frustrated. Even without sound, Phil can tell that this is when he was arguing with Sophie about going upstairs. He squints, but he can’t see whatever it is that’s got Chris being so loud.

“What am I looking at?” PJ asks when the short clip ends, and Dan hums an agreement. Chris makes a frustrated noise like they’re being obtuse on purpose and rewinds to the beginning.

"There," Chris says, excited like he hasn't been since they got to Manchester. He taps his finger against the laptop screen. "D'you see it? D'you see the shadow?"

Now that Chris has pointed it out, Phil does see something. He moves his own laptop and notebook out of the way to pull Chris’ closer with a frown. Chris lets him do that, bouncing in his seat a little bit.

“That’s straight up a person,” Phil says slowly, tracing the outline of the shadow with the mouse. It’s behind him, in the entry to the kitchen, and it looks tall. Quite a bit taller than Phil, anyway, if he’s remembering that doorframe correctly. He decides to measure it next time they go so he isn’t going off memory. “I knew we weren’t alone in there. Like. I’m not crazy, that’s a human being.”

“That’s what I thought,” says Chris. “But press play.”

So Phil presses play. He watches the shadow stay perfectly still in the kitchen doorway until, suddenly, it’s not there anymore. He blinks, rewinds, and watches it disappear again.

Phil’s caffeinated brain is firing on all cylinders now. He grins and shoves his sleeves up to his elbows before he starts fiddling with the clip. The lighting gets played with until the shadow is more obvious and then he slows it down to 0.25 times speed to see if the shadow really just vanishes.

He presses play again. This time, with a very slow-motion Phil talking in the foreground, he sees the shadow move. It runs sideways, further into the house.

“What the fuck?” Dan breathes.

“We are not going back there without some serious protection,” PJ says, even firmer on the topic now.

“What, like sigils?” Dan asks, their pretty eyes wide even as they scoff. “You’d be better off with a fucking, like, baseball bat, mate. That doesn’t look like something that wants to be your friend.”

“I’ve got a crowbar in PJ’s trunk,” Phil says, absent-minded as he plays with the clip some more.

“Excuse me? When did you put that in my car?”

“Couple months ago.”

“Huh. How have I not noticed?”

“You’re not the most observant person I’ve ever met,” says Phil. He looks up at Chris, who’s got the same exhilarated look that Phil is sure he’s mirroring. They don’t get evidence like this very often, something so clearly there that it’s even got a skeptic’s mind racing. Phil exports the edited clip and then the original, putting them both into the Cloud and emailing them to himself. “Was this the only time you saw it?”

Chris nods, accepting his laptop back when Phil is done with it. “I’ll look through everything again, now that I know what I’m looking for and all, but I think that’s it.”

“Okay, cool.” Phil looks around at his friends and Dan, beaming. “Something weird is happening. I love it when something weird is happening.”

“I hate it when something weird is happening,” PJ says, which is a blatant lie.

“Well, we can’t go snooping around until it’s darker out, anyhow,” Sophie reminds them.

“Wait, we’re snooping?” Dan asks, their voice going up an entire octave in disbelief. “Like… you just saw that someone is there and probably not happy about people sneaking around, right? Don’t you have enough for a video already?”

“We’re spending the night,” says Phil. “It’s what we do.”

“It’s what you do,” PJ corrects him.

“Okay, yeah, you guys don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“No, I’m coming,” says PJ.

As if she can’t hear them bickering, Sophie turns to Dan with a sweet smile, her eyes twinkling with the same excitement in Chris’. They love this, just like Phil does. “What about you, Dan?” she asks. “Are you going to have a ghost sleepover with us?”

“There’s no such thing as ghosts,” Dan says, their eyes still glued to the back of Chris’ laptop like they can see the shadow through it.

“Guess you don’t have anything to be afraid of, then,” says Chris.

“Uh, axe murderers, maybe?”

“We know what we’re doing, Dan,” Phil reassures them. He reaches a hand out to pat at their arm, feeling a bit awkward about it. “But you don’t have to come with us if you’re scared.”

That makes Dan’s gaze shift. Suddenly, those brown eyes are staring right into Phil’s soul, defiant and beautiful and impossible to look away from.

“Who said I was fucking scared?”

#phanfic #phanfiction #dnp fic #words words words #quiet on widow's peak #this chapter is a little short thanks to me prioritizing my mental health BUT i am still happy with it #so i hope you like it too #even if you might think the plot is slow!

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sprnklersplashes · 4 years

Text

not beyond repair (18/20)

AO3

“So my mom made a proposal,” Veronica announces. She’s leaning against JD’s chest, the two of them half-lying on the grass outside their school and their hands joined and his arm around her shoulders. His cheek rubs against her hair gently, and her thumb strokes the back of his hand. The weather is as close to perfect as Sherwood, Ohio ever gets; the sky is as blue as the blazer she’s sitting on and the grass is so perfect it looks like it’s out of a cartoon. There’s a warm buzz in the air that’s practically tangible, weaving its way into Westerberg High life and turning what were sad-eyed, sullen and slow walking teenagers into bouncing, giggling little messes. The sweetness of summer and freedom is so close they can almost touch it, and for the seniors, that means graduation is closer than ever, something they wouldn’t be able to forget even without the constant announcements of caps and gowns, extra credits and practice ceremonies.

Veronica’s still not sure how she feels about it.

“What?” Martha asks, Heather’s head in her lap and her fingers running through the other girl’s hair.

“It’s this graduation party at my house,” she explains. “My parents had it planned for months and it was just going to be my family.” Martha nods, having already known about it. It would go without saying that family includes her. “But my mom asked last night if you guys wanted to come.” She nudges JD gently in the ribs and nods over at Macnamara, pulling some blades of grass out of the ground. “And your parents can come too if they want. What do you say?”

“I say ‘hell yeah’!” Heather squeaks apparently rejuvenated after being half asleep for most of their lunch hour. “I mean, I don’t know for sure if my parents can come, but I’m definitely going.” Martha kisses her finger and taps Heather’s nose with it, making her scrunch up her face in a way that makes Veronica want to reach over and squish her cheeks. It’s getting harder and harder to make the connection between Heather Macnamara-head-cheerleader-whose-dad-is-loaded-and-who-would-ace-blackmail-if-it-were-a-class and Heather Macnamara-her-best-friend’s-girlfriend-who-doodles-flowers-in-notebooks-and-helps-colour-code-her-flashcards. Back in the day, Heather was definitely the one of the group she got along the most with and was the closest to what she would call a real friend, but even then it felt like there was a sheet of plastic between the two of them and stopping any real bonding. But now, Veronica’s squeezing her hand and shooting little finger guns at her like they’ve been doing it all their lives.

“J?” she asks, pulling his hand into his lap to play with his fingers. “Are you in?”

“Of course I’m in,” he replies, kissing the top of her head and hugging her tighter. The corners of her mouth turn up as he nuzzles into her. “I wouldn’t miss it.” She hums contentedly and continues idly playing with his hand. “So your entire family?”

“More or less,” she sighs. “Perks of being an only child, your parents decide to put all the effort into you.” She squeezes his hand and leans back into his embrace. “That’s why I need you guys there. So I don’t go insane with my extended family.”

“And there I was thinking you actually liked our company,” JD jokes.

“Eh, you’re okay,” she answers teasingly before tilting her head back and planting a kiss on his jaw. She checks the time with a pained groan, bumping her head against JD’s chest before wriggling out of his hold, which isn’t easy considering how he’s tangled himself around her. “Come on. I still have to go to my locker.”

“Me too,” Martha agrees, gently shaking Heather awake. The other girl pouts as she follows Martha to her feet, even if it lessens a little when Martha presses a whispered kiss to her cheek. She rests her cheek on her shoulder as they walk back into school, their bodies pressed close together and their hands clasped. If anyone notices, they think nothing of it.

Inside, kids are sitting on window ledges or cross legged against the walls, jackets off and the freshman girls with their sleeves rolled up to compare tans. It’s Ohio, after all, the first spot of sunshine does insane things to one’s mind. Especially since the weatherman and the growing clouds promise it won’t last.

“Oh, nice,” Veronica sighs, coming to her locker. Someone from prom committee stuck a flyer on it, reminding them of the upcoming event. At least it’s a poster and not an insult, she tells herself as she opens her locker and starts exchanging books.

“Well that’s one way to show school spirit,” JD remarks, taking the flyer off the door and examining it. “If a little tacky.”

“You think prom is tacky?” Veronica asks, ducking her head so he won’t see her face fall.

“Not prom,” he replies. “The amount of glitter on this poster.” She brightens at that, her calm restoring as she closes the locker and takes his hand to pull his arm around her. “I guess the freshman art club lent a hand.”

“Oh, that reminds me, Martha what colour’s your dress going to be?” Heather asks, swinging their hands together. “Because I don’t want us to clash, but I’ve already got my eye on a few.”

“Oh… I don’t know,” Martha replies, scratching behind her ear. “I guess I haven’t looked at any yet. But you should wear what you want.”

“But since you’re my date, I don’t want to wear the same colour as you,” she sighs, her chin leaning on her fist and her mouth screwed the way it normally is when she’s thinking hard.

“Well, why don’t you show me what you’re choosing from when I’m at your house on Friday,” she suggests, rolling her eyes just enough for Veronica alone to notice. “That way I cane make sure I don’t clash with you.”

“Okay!” she beams, her worries flying out of her head. She shares a gentle smile with Martha and their hands brush against each other’s.

“I’ll see you guys later,” Martha says, turning to JD and Veronica as they come to the bottom of the stairs.

“See you later kids,” Veronica replies.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” JD adds, earning him another poke in the chest from Veronica. It can’t have been more than slight pressure, but he lets out a squeak and rubs his ribcage with a pout.

“I should fear for my safety around you and your elbows,” he remarks, twirling her under his arm as they start in the direction of their class. He swings their joined hands slowly, a slight frown on his face. “So… about the prom… do I need to know what colour your dress is? Or am I not allowed to know anything about it until the big night?”

“I think you’re confusing it with a wedding, J,” she says. “I guess not. Why would you need to know?”

“Well if you’re my date, don’t I need to buy you a matching corsage?”

“You don’t have to.”

“Okay, let me try this,” he begins. “Since you are my wonderful girlfriend, who I love and to whom I want to give the most amazing prom experience she could ever wish for, shouldn’t I need to buy you a corsage?”

“You’re sweet,” she giggles. Sweet is an understatement really. “You don’t need to.” She looks up just in time to see his smile faltering, so slight and changed so suddenly anyone who didn’t know him like she did would think they imagined it. So she squeezes his hand, losing this battle with no qualms. “But if you want to… I might go with something blue.” She tugs on her blazer. “My lucky colour, I guess.”

“You always look beautiful in blue,” he tells her warmly. She leans her pink cheek against his shoulder, slightly conscious of the eyes of passers-by, even though Fleming isn’t around and hardly anyone from their grade is either.

“I didn’t think you were into prom,” she remarks.

“You didn’t?”

“Just, you never mentioned it,” she replies, slightly regretting it now, even if his amused grin should put her at ease. “We never talked about it.”

“I just…” He trails off and after a moment’s hesitation, pulls her over to the window ledge, sitting up with one leg curled underneath him. He takes her hand as she sits beside him, running his thumb over her knuckles and his face creased in gentle confusion. “I just assumed we were going together.”

“Yeah,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s stupid.”

“Ronnie-”

“Well, I just don’t really know how all this works,” she says. “Even now. You’re my first boyfriend and this is my first time going to a dance with a boyfriend.” She shrugs, toying with the chain of her necklace. “My only reference is romance movies and I don’t think they’re entirely realistic.”

“Aw.” He tickles her cheek and under her chin, making squirm and swipe her hands at him.

“Don’t aww me,” she tells him, shaking her head fondly.

“So… were you expecting me to ask you to prom?” he asks with a grin.

“A bit redundant now.”

“Not the question.” She rolls her eyes, looking over at him. Her JD, his hair pushed back, his eyes sparkling as he waits for her to answer. He almost looks excited, her dork of a boyfriend asking permission to ask her to prom.

It’s moments like this that remind her what being in love is.

“Yes, then.” Although she begins to regret her decision, when he gets up, swirling around in a grand fashion and making the sophomore girls across the hall from them look up from the homework they’re working on last minute.

“J-”

“Sh,” he commands, holding his hand up. She leans back against the window, laughter breaking through her falsely unamused exterior. JD clears his throats and takes in a deep breath, beginning with a straight back and a facial expression to rival Mr Darcy. “Miss Veronica Sawyer. Since the day I laid eyes on you in seventh grade, I knew you were the one for me. You captivated me with your mismatched scarf and your jean jacket, and I knew I wanted to stare into your… into the endless pools of your eyes forever.” She buries her face in her hands, her face red from embarrassment and from holding back her laughter. “And now that we have found each other again, I must ask you a most serious question.”

“Okay what are you and Claire watching?” she asks him between laughs, shaking her head fondly.

When he gets down on one knee, she loses control entirely, barely managing to prop herself up on her elbow all while looking at his completely too serious expression.

“Veronica Sawyer, will you be my date to the prom?” he asks with shining eyes, struggling to keep himself composed as well.

“Oh my God.” She buries her face in her hand, trying to catch her breath and pull herself upright. Every time she’s close to it, she falls again as her cackle continues to echo down the hall. There’s an ache in her chest and God does she love it. “You’re such a dick.”

“I might be a dick, but I’m a dick who is on my knee here,” he reminds her. “And this position is not comfortable, so…”

“Yes,” she interrupts, taking his hand and pulling him up. “Yes, I will go to prom with you.” He pulls her up against him, rubbing their noses together. Her toes tingle as she curls her fingers into his jacket, giggling against him. “You’re such a loser.”

“Oh really?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. She presses her finger lightly against the dimple in his cheek.

“Yep,” she replies, running her fingers through his hair. “Big, dumb, sappy romantic loser.” She presses a short and sweet kiss to his lips. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t stop smiling, nor could she chase away that giddy warmth in her chest. “That I am very lucky to have.”

*****

Veronica has thought about her dream prom dress more times than she would care to admit. Less now, of course, but in her preteen and early high school days, most of her daydreams involved finding her perfect dress, having her hair done and coming down the stairs looking like a princess, preferably with a wide-eyed boy at the bottom of the stairs. That fantasy was discarded as she grew older and wiser and her classmates became beasts that even she couldn’t ignore. But for a year or two, the idea of her perfect prom had kept her young imagination entertained and active for hours.

So when she walks into the dress store for the first time, she doesn’t mind the flurry of excitement in her chest. She almost feels like her twelve year old self is beside her, holding her hand and jumping up and down as they enter. With its spotless white carpet, sky-blue walls and the silver lights twisted into intricate and enchanting patterns, her own little hometown seems a world away.

“So Heather said she’s either going to wear yellow or white,” Martha says, running her hand along the rack of dresses, pulling at the ones that catch her eye. “So I can’t wear anything that clashes with that.”

“I’ll place bets on her wearing yellow.” Veronica pulls one off the rack, pale pink and thin straps, the top covered in tiny flowers. Holding it up, the lights shine through the net skirt and the flower petals impossibly soft between her fingers.

“That’s pretty.”

“Yeah, it is. Go try it on.” She takes it off the rack and presses it into her best friend’s arms, chuckling somewhat proudly at the confused expression on her face.

“You’re not getting it?” she asks.

“Nope,” she replies, shaking her head. “Pink doesn’t really work for me. Works for you though.” She winks, pulling her into the changing rooms and falls back into one of the white wicker chairs, her long legs dangling over the edge. “Now go. Be pretty.”

She does look pretty in that dress, even as she crosses her arms over her chest and pulls herself inwards, her eyes wide and anxious and silently pleading as she looks over at Veronica.

There’s a strange mixture of anger and compassion in Veronica’s heart. She thought that at this point, maybe she’d gotten over it, but she still finds herself clenching her fist when she’s reminded of how Martha views herself, and who exactly is responsible for it.

And then there’s guilt. A little punch of guilt that comes in, right in the middle of everything. The price of popularity, however temporary, she thinks.

“You look amazing,” she tells her, standing up and taking her hands. Sincerity creeps into Martha’s smile and hope into her eyes as Veronica admires her on her own before twirling her around to face her reflection in the full length mirror. The Veronica in the mirror rests her chin on her Martha’s shoulder, her arms coming around her waist and squeezing tightly. “So…”

“I…” Martha toys with the straps, shifting nervously on her feet. “I don’t know.” She runs her hand down the skirt with a shrug and squeezes her waist. “I mean, it’s pretty. I just don’t know if it’s for me.”

“Okay.” She takes hold of Martha’s hand. She looks stunning in it, but she doesn’t want to press. If it’s not for her, it’s not for her, she reasons. “There’s still a shot load of dresses out there to choose from.”

“For you too,” Martha reminds her with a poke in the chest. “You’re not getting out of this.”

“Wouldn’t ever dream of it,” she replies, giggling, the twelve year old taking over with almost no resistance from her. She follows Martha out of the changing room with bouncy little steps and a light tingle in her chest. Her cheeks start to hurt as she tries to school her features and give a calm front in front of the other patrons, but by the time Martha starts lifting dresses and raising her eyebrows suggestively at her, they can think she’s mad for all she cares. Together, they twirl around and get lost in the world of glittering skirts and spaghetti straps, playing at being princesses in the mirror and matching dresses to shoes to bags. If she closed her eyes, Veronica might be able to think she was back in her bedroom, adjusting a tiara on Martha’s head and tripping over a too-long skirt.

“Hey, this would look really good on you,” Martha suggests, lifting a dark blue one off the rack and holding it up against her, tilting Veronica’s chin up to get a better look of it. “Are you going to wear that necklace to prom?”

“What, this one?” she asks, touching the ever-present butterfly at the case of her throat. “I… don’t know. Maybe. I never really thought about it. Sometimes I sort of forget I even have it on.”

“You should,” Martha tells her. “It’s pretty. And it would look really pretty with this dress.”

“You know, I sort of feel like you’re pushing me in the direction of this dress,” she remarks, taking it off her. It is lovely, a shade or two darker than her necklace and silver sequins clustered around the waist. She finds that the more she looks at it, the more she likes it, with minute details calling out to her, one being the impossibly soft material of the skirt beneath her fingers and the pattern weaved by the little diamonds along the single strap.

In fact, she’s so busy being captivated by it that she doesn’t even register the bell ringing as the door opens, nor does she pick up on the new customers until she catches a flash of a red blazer approaching her.

Yet strangely, she doesn’t crumple in on herself the way she used to, nor is she overcome by a desire to impress. She definitely doesn’t look at them with a wistful awe like she did in her pre-Heathers days. Instead, she merely smiles in Heather’s direction, even as Martha stiffens a little beside her.

“Are you… getting that?” Chandler asks. It’s only when Veronica looks up she sees Duke behind her, holding plastic-covered dress close to her chest, her lips rolled into a thin line and her eyes trained on the floor. She’s seen Duke looking like that before, in the privacy of a bathroom cubicle, where she thinks Veronica can’t see her.

“Yeah… probably,” she answers, looking down at it again. She reaches out and taps the back of Martha’s hand gently, brushing her fingers against hers.

“Well…” Here we go. “You should. It’s pretty.”

Wait, what?

When she looks up again, she doesn’t find the poison-laced smile and raised eyebrows she’s come to associate with compliments from Heather Chandler. Instead, she offers an offhand shrug, her face halfway to a smile. A real one too, even if it look false on her face.

“Thanks,” Veronica says. Heather nods, drumming her fingertips on her arms. Behind her, Duke takes a deep breath, her face softer than Veronica’s ever seen it, before tugging on Chandler’s elbow.

“Mac isn’t with you?” Duke asks just as they’re turning to leave. It comes out so quickly and haphazardly that it all sounds like one word and Veronica takes a moment to sort through and separate it into something coherent. Even Chandler seems surprised at what she said.

“She didn’t want to see what I was wearing,” Martha answers. “She wants to be surprised.”

“Oh,” is all she says, nodding quickly and holding her own dress tighter.

Thankfully, they take the tight, tense air with them as they leave, their heels hitting the floor in a confident rhythm that doesn’t match their fidgeting fingers and unsure faces.

“Are you okay?” Veronica asks, noticing Martha’s eyes following the two of them out the door.

“Yeah,” she says, turning back to the rack with an unfamiliar determination and picking one off, one she had hastily dismissed mere minutes earlier with a wistful look down at herself. Now she holds it up in front of her, taking in a long, deep breath, her jaw set. “I’m going to try this one on.”

“Really?” she asks, breaking into a smile. Martha nods, a spark in her eye that Veronica hadn’t realised she had missed until now. “Good.”

She’s just pulled the single strap of the dress over her shoulder when Martha knocks on the door, quick and apprehensive and tinged with impatience. Despite the door between them, she can almost see her beaming smile and wringing hands, see her biting her lip like she’s trying to hold herself together.

“Come on. I don’t want to look in the mirror without you.”

“Okay, I’m coming,” she laughs, shaking her head a little and running her hand down the skirt. From her perspective, it’s pretty perfect, but she’s looking from the neck down. She tucks the label in, pulls it down one last time and steps out, met with a sight that makes her catch her breath.

“Woah,” they say at the same time. If it was the Heathers’ arrival that made Martha pick that dress, then thank God for them, because it’s amazing. Pink and purple flowers are weaved onto the white fabric, her hair falling over her bare shoulders, a deep purple ribbon around her waist and a full, flowing skirt. It’s uniquely Martha, she thinks, like God hand-picked that dress for her.

“You look amazing,” Veronica breathes, gently taking her arm and moving it away so she can look at it properly. Martha looks down, half hiding her smile.

“You should see yourself,” She responds, taking Veronica’s hand and turning her around to face the full-length mirror.

The girl in her reflection looks everything and nothing like her. Same long limbs and pale skin, big brown eyes and dark hair she can never truly get under control. Everything is the same as when she left the house that morning, except for the fact that she’s in the most lovely thing she’s ever worn and might ever wear in her life. Everything she loved about it on the hanger comes alive on her, the diamonds on the top winking at her every time she moves, the ruffles on the skirt move like ripples on a lake and when she turns it spins around her, floating on the air and pulsing like butterfly wings.

She lets herself be arrogant for a moment and appreciate the colour against her skin, how the skirt hugs her waist before flowing outwards. She lets herself think ‘damn’ and turn around a little to look at the back, lets herself be in love with the way it shimmers under the overhead lights. She lets herself smile and gasp and be excited for herself. She lets herself believe she looks beautiful, and she won’t feel bad for it.

“Told you,” Martha says, brushing her hair off her shoulder. “You think this is it?” Veronica takes her hand and wraps her other arm around Martha’s shoulder, smiling back at their reflections.

“Yeah, I think it is.” She squeezes her best friend’s shoulders tightly, rocking them a little. “As long as you’re getting that one too.”

“I think I am,” she says, pulling at the skirt again, half-gasping and half-laughing. Martha’s never been one to hide her feelings, but she probably couldn’t now even if she wanted to. Neither could Veronica. They exit the store with broad grins and borderline infectious giggles, their dresses neatly folded in white paper bags, throwing suggestions for shoes and accessories like they’re frivolous pieces of paper as they bounce along the streets.

The twinge of sadness kindly doesn’t make itself known until she returns home. But when it does, she feels it.

Dear diary, Veronica writes that night, retreating to the best source of comfort she knows. She looks over at her wardrobe, where her prom dress sits in wait, a plastic sheet protecting it from any dirt or dust that might dare to spoil it. She clicks her pen in and out again. I’ve spent my entire life waiting for the day I leave. I started researching colleges when I was fifteen. I knew where I wanted to go when I was sixteen. I threw all that work into getting out when I was seventeen. And now I’m eighteen and all I want to do now is stay.

She turns her head, not sure why until she catches sight of two of the photos on her nightstand. One of her and Martha eating ice cream cones on the beach in the era of braces and bad hair, one of her and JD, her sitting behind him and kissing his head while he laughs at something. She turns the photos over in her hands, both memories just about clear in her head, and takes a deep breath.

I changed this year, she writes. More than I thought I could. Everyone did. The Heathers leave us alone for one. Martha has a girlfriend now and I’m in love with JD, and I’m happy. I never wasn’t, but it’s a new kind of happy. I guess I didn’t realise it existed until I had it. She chews on the edge of her pen, breathing through the heavy weight sitting in her chest. She doesn’t feel like crying, not exactly, but when she looks up on her calendar and sees the days marked until graduation, there’s a flash of panic inside her, followed by a little melancholic kick. She looks out at the town she grew up in, one that for better or worse has marked her soul. A car ride away is the girl who’s held her hand since before she could walk and the boy who now holds her heart. And while she doesn’t regret applying to college, she starts to wish that it wasn’t so soon. And I don’t want it all to end yet.

#jdronica #heathers the musical #veronica sawyer #jason dean #heathers fanfic #fic: not beyond repair #what if i told yall the next chapter is coming tomorrow to make up for this less-than-good update?#huh?#would you love me again?

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