#not really how i imagine bubbles to look like but i just felt like doodling some cat so here ya go | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meowufff · 10 months

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This is my first actual post on Tumblr ever so pls bear with me. Also, English is not my first language so pls excuse any mistakes I make :)

So, this whole thing here started just as a joke bc I was curious if anyone else was feeling constantly tired all day no matter how long I sleep. But it all somehow escalated a bit and I may have started hyperfixating on it so well, now it actually became a little survey.

I also wanted to mention that I only asked the artist in my little Tumblr bubble, which is mostly tmnt content, so my results are mostly referring to tmnt artists.

In total, I asked 143 people if they could remember the last time they woke up and just felt actually rested for more than half of the day.

I probably could have been more specific with my question but again, I did not actually planned to let it become so big. Personally, for me being rested means, having a clear head, no headache or foggy mind without consuming any caffeine.

So out of 143 people, 100 answered me and I tried my best to sort all of the answers after the criteria “good-sleep-schedule” and “bad-sleep-schedule” and also noted when exactly they last felt actually rested into either the last days, weeks, months, years or “???” when they couldn’t remember or didn’t mention anything specific.

And let’s just say… it does not really look good. Out of 100 people, only 18 have an actual good sleep schedule. Out of these 18 people, 13 felt really rested in the last days, 2 in the last weeks, only one person in the last months and 2 in the last years.

Out of the 82 of people who have a bad sleep schedule, 10% lastly felt rested in the last days, 11% in the last weeks, 11% in the last months, 30% in the last years, and 38% couldn’t remember or didn’t specify it.

While reading all your answers I came to realize being sleep deprived is not just bc any of them thought “Oh it would be really neat to stay up till 4 am!” or smth like that.

A lot of the artists who answered me mentioned that they have trouble falling asleep or staying asleep due to stuff like insomnia, chronic pain, other issues, or children (yeah, ok, there was just one who had a child but still).

While analyzing I mostly referred the situations to my own experience with going to sleep or rather not going to sleep...

I usually don’t have problems falling asleep but trouble actually putting my stuff away and going to bed bc I don’t want to end the day or just don’t want to go to sleep (don’t ask why, I have no idea why I am like this). While having these “episodes” I often doodle smth, binge reading some fanfics, or watch whatever I can find on the internet until I’m just falling asleep or can convince myself that it is 3 am and I really should go to bed now.

So, my personal theory about why sleep deprivation is so common among Tumblr artists is not bc they do art all night. My theory is that a lot of people who have trouble falling asleep due to insomnia, pain, or other issues are filling the time until they hopefully fall asleep with their art, doodles, writings, or whatever their creative minds can bring up, to help the time pass.

In total that would mean that not all artists are sleep deprived but more that a lot of people who have trouble falling asleep do a lot of art or creative stuff in general.

Something I could also imagine is, that if they start doing art while waiting for sleep, they start to concentrate a lot on creating more and start procrastinating sleep even if they actually get tired bc they wanna do art and fuck up their non-existing sleep schedule even more but that could also just be me projecting here.

I know that is probably no kind of big revelation but for me it was kind of surprising to see how many people here are as sleep deprived as me and due to what reasons.

I’m not going to preach to any of you to get that problem solved or smth, I have no right to tell you what to do and would be a major hypocrite so instead I really which everyone to get some kind of good sleep schedule one day and the joy of waking up and feeling completely rested at least thrice per week.

I absolutely love all your art and thank you a thousand times for helping me with this spontaneous survey!

I would love to hear your opinions on my theory and conclusion so pls don’t be shy and feel free to point out any mistakes I may have made or tell me your own theories :D

Also, if my question is still sitting in your inbox, feel free to answer! I’m gonna keep ma big ass excel table so I can edit all the results anytime. And maybe, one day, I'm gonna continue this survey and go into more detail but for now I need to leave it like this.

Ok, that's all I got

BYE!

Thanks to all participants

@abbeyofcyn @angelpuns @beannary @bulbabutt @camilieroart @cementgeek @cheesyescapade @cokowiii @easterartist @frosteaart @gemini-forest @happyfoxx-art @heckitall @hellishgayliath @holy-sweetsour-milk @icepopcider @idiot-mushroom @iscreamkitty @kovalitics @laseralligator @lieutenantbiscute @matchstique @mightyanxiety @miiukkaa @mr-doodles @pezhead @probably-not-a-rutabaga @pumpkster @sad-leon @sassatello @sewercrocodileart @sheep-turtles-and-pizza @signanothername @spectra-bear @stephuart @tangledinink @tapakah0 @tasenwiththerobots @tblsomedoodles @thegunnsara @triona-tribblescore @turrondeluxe @valen-timez @vangh17a @wraenata @zinovi768 @debb987 @dianagj-art @goatedgreen @indieyuugure

#Average Tumblr artists sleep deprivation #Sleep survey #Survey #If I had put at least half the effort I put into this survey into learning I wouldn't need to do a retake of my finals #Hyperfixiation is kicking HARD #that escalated quickly

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alumort · 8 months

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ao3

nejilee beach episode. enjoy

His skin itched, yet there was no way anybody would take him away from the sea now. He would need to go through an intense hair treatment as soon as they returned to the hotel room– for now, Neji would enjoy swimming between the waves, hearing nothing but the ocean in his ears and maybe a couple of gulls here and there.

He knew Lee didn’t like it, yet perhaps he could convince him to join if he asked him once again… although, the other man seemed too focused on his sand castle to care.

Walking towards him while his feet buried themselves on wet sand, Neji tried again.

“The water is wonderful. C’mon, love, stay here with me for a while,” he said with a smile, chuckling a bit at seeing Lee pout.

His partner denied with his head, turning around to look at him in the eyes before replying.

“I will stay here, dearest! I am more comfortable in land!” Lee promised, doing a thumbs up before focusing on his small building again. The only reason he ever approached the sea

Being under the waves was freeing, somehow. Neji could move to any and all direction he imagined, not caring about anything as his goggles (that he had only because Lee insisted they weren’t goofy) would keep any and all water far away from his eyes. It was dark and, by mere impulse, the brunet tried to activate his Byakugan only for a headache to annoy his gaze.

He had died in the war, even if only for a few minutes. His cursed seal had made it so his special eyes became as normal as a fly… he would never be able to use his Kekkei Genkai again– and it was alright. Though, finding pretty shells would be an arduous task now…

At one point, a crab tried to pinch his fingers, defending something that seemed brightly colored with all its might. His chuckles made bubbles float by his side, and all Neji had to do was gently push the crustacean away to grab what he wanted, going back to the surface in no time.

His hands were full of shells in a couple of minutes, and he deemed it enough to leave the sea, ready to go back to his partner to show him his findings– until he was met by an interesting situation.

Lee was still distracted, digging up holes around him and not really caring about anything else– it was his chance. Neji was quiet enough as to not startle the other man, approaching him in silence but with a smirk on his face; he left the shells on the sand and leaned towards Lee, hugging him from behind and chuckling at hearing his surprised gasp.

“Hi there,” the brunet mumbled, resting his ear on his boyfriend’s back, pouting as Lee dodged his touch. “Hey…”

“You are cold!” he complained, crossing his arms over his chest. It was then that Neji showered his small treasure to the other man, whose eyes sparkled at the countless colorful shells.

“It’s Summer, Lee. I prefer to be cold… plus, I got you these,” Neji replied, placing the shells beside his partner, who looked at him as if seeking a silent approval. “I thought they would make your castle look better, what do you think?”

In no time, Lee began ordering everything on the sand by shape, and his boyfriend helped him without saying anything at all.

And just like that, their work of art was finished in no time– a sand castle with a couple of towers, decorated by the colorful shells that Neji had collected earlier on. Some feathers worked as banners and they doodled abstract patterns on the walls with their fingers, always careful enough as to not destroy it.

“It is awesome! Thank you for helping, love!” Lee exclaimed, his eyes shining with pure joy. The brunet held his hand, still filled with sand, and made gentle circles on his palm with his thumb.

Seeing how excited Lee got by seeing the small castle they made was enough to make Neji smile– he was like a little kid, sometimes still seeing the world with awe-filled eyes and neverending grins. He couldn’t help it but lean towards him, placing his lips on his warm cheek, giggling as he felt it become even warmer than before due to that small gesture.

They had been together since before the war, and Lee still became a mess with his kisses. It was yet another thing Neji thought was adorable of him.

#nejilee #leeneji #neji hyuga #rock lee #naruto #naruto shippuden #naruto fanfic #naruto au

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eunkimmie · 3 years

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hi! I really liked your sal friends with benefits headcannons and I was wondering if you could do one for larry? :)

larry didn’t think of sex as something that was sacred or that had to be cherished, he just thought of it as a desire. if two people wanted to fuck, so be it. larry thought of himself as a relatively emotional person, even if he didn’t show it all the time. he also knew he wasn’t the worst looking guy out there, he definitely fit into a “type” though. with the long hair occasionally pulled up into a messy bun, the oversized and overworn shirts, loose fitting pants that pooled around his beat up converse with doodles all on the fabric. his tanned skin was even, save for a few patches of acne and some body hair. point is, larry was an attractive guy.

now, there weren’t a whole lot of people in Nockfell that were falling on their knees for him, especially since they knew him as a weird kid in high school, but y’know. tinder was a thing. sometimes he just wanted to chat, or sometimes he did use the app for hookups.

wasn’t much, really. he’d bring someone to his shared house, fuck, then he’d let them choose whether they wanted to stay or leave for the night. maybe if he took a shine to them, offer some weed and cook some shitty eggs for them in the morning.

one day, he matched with you. cute, interesting. and by the way you chatted with him, you didn’t seem too interested in a relationship at the moment either. he invited you over after talking for a day or two, and that was that. you stayed the night, waking to an offer of coffee, maybe some cereal? you agreed, and the two of you sat downstairs laughing. larry was an easy guy to chat with, and almost everyone found that they got comfortable with him and his laid-back nature relatively quickly.

“and what kind of move was that?” you snickered, moving the spoon around in your cereal bowl idly. “i mean, if you’re gonna throw someone on your bed, at least make sure you aim correctly.” he tilted his head back as he let out a boisterous laugh, fist slamming down on the table. “fuck, don’t bring that shit up! sorry for being eager.” the two of you joked like that before you decided it was well time to go home.

after that, larry gradually stopped hooking up with random strangers, and instead turning to you. the both of you were well aware of the relationship and had no issue. but, eventually, the two of you learned that, hey, you actually had some common interests. after a session, you say up in his bed and tried to fix your hair to the best of your abilities after being fucked senseless. “you have a switch?”

“is that a sex question?” he asked, and received a pillow to the chest. “yes, you wanna play something?” you shrugged, pulling a shirt over your chest. he rattled off some names of the co-op games he had, and the two of you had settled on mario kart, cliche as it may be. and of course you beat ass. larry wasn’t a sore loser, instead offering you a lazy smile every time you told him to “eat shit you fucking second place”

larry didn’t question it much, but eventually the two of you became friends. it was bound to happen, your chemistry was more than just sexual, and he was sure that if the two of you had met in person before tinder, you would’ve been friends as well. was it so bad that his fuck-buddy was coming over midday now to play games or watch movies? larry decided that it may be better not to question it. besides, the two of you had a good dynamic going here.

but here’s the thing—when two people spend that much time together in the day and are having sex at night, at least one of them is bound to grow feelings. larry would run his calloused hands up your waist, grasping for as much of you as he could get as his mouth placed sporadic kisses all down your neck. the way your voice sounded as you let out small whimpers made his heart beat faster and faster, but the best noise was when he was fucking you at such a fast pace that had your hands gripping tightly at the sheets, before suddenly he’d stop. he’d watch as you cried out and desperately tried to create some movement between the two of you, and larry would tilt your chin up and give you a lingering kiss, staring down at your tear-filled eyes before he’d finally move again.

every time you two had sex, he would pour all of his affection and feeling into it. he didn’t want to fuck up your friendship, so instead all of his pent up emotion would turn into multiple rounds of sex, sometimes rough, sometimes passionate. he didn’t think he would ever confess, he knew he couldn’t. it would be best to just ignore it, right? right.

so, he never did. he never uttered a word to anyone, not even his friends, about the feelings he harbored for you. and when he asked if you wanted to stay the night, his heart would leap as you nodded and cuddled up to him in bed. and how he felt such a surge of disappointment rush through him when you decided it was time to get going, and left. he fantasized about grabbing you by the arm, stopping you from leaving, and proclaiming that he did have feelings for you, that you were so much more than just a person to hookup with at night. that he wanted a real relationship with you, that he wanted you to stay with him and wake up to him every day, and how much it killed him to open his eyes first thing in the morning and not see your face, and that…

fuck. was he in love with you? was it more than just a crush? it didn’t matter, you didn’t want a relationship, and that was that. larry wasn’t going to push your boundaries, it wasn’t your fault that he had to go and develop feelings for someone he was just supposed to be having sex with. he was in love with you, and the thought made him embarrassed. he’d stay up at night thinking about how quick you’d be to reject him if he ever did confess. the thought of you reciprocating his feelings wasn’t even a possibility in his mind.

you bit your lip as you knocked on the front door to his house. it was strange. you were always attracted to him, of course, but lately you’d been having…thoughts. you spent so much time in his house, his room, that an image of you staying there, with him, had briefly crossed your mind the other night. how would it feel to wake up in his arms every day as the sun peeked through the curtains? to be able to walk over to your shared closet before tossing on some clothes and walking to the kitchen and make breakfast for him? you wondered if he’d help, if maybe he’d come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist before kissing you softly. “the eggs might burn,” you’d say, but he would turn the burner off and kiss you anyways. how he’d lift you up on the counter and run his hands gently down your sides and plant soft kisses to your lips.

your fantasy stopped right there as he opened up the door, greeting you with a lazy smile. his hair was up this night, small strands falling from the bun he had loosely tied together. and then, the two of you were in his room. but it felt different somehow. maybe it was your imagination.

he closed the door behind him, pressing you up against the wood after it locked with a small click. his hands worked your shirt, pulling it off before tossing it aside. he ran his hand down the side of your thigh, your legs wrapped around him as he supported your body with ease. your hands had cupped his cheeks as you kissed him, his breath shaky as he pulled back for air for only a second.

you didn’t go home that night. you stayed, waking up to larry’s arms draped lazily over your body as your back curved against his chest like a perfect puzzle piece. you turned over, slowly as possible as to make little movement. now, you were face to face with him, his eyes still closed and lips parted slightly. you sighed, pushing a few strands of hair from his face and planting a gentle kiss on his lips. you mumbled out a strained, “fuck,” before you decided that maybe it was better to go back to sleep.

he acted like he was asleep. cheap move, he knew that, but when he felt your fingers softly brush his hair aside, his heart practically jumped out of his chest. he laid there as you kissed him once, and he swore that if you put a hand to his chest you would be able to feel just how fast his heartbeat was going.

for weeks, the two of you unconsciously pined over one another, both of you too afraid to say anything. you continued as you were, meeting up for either video games or sex.

his room was dark, dimly illuminated by his LED lights, your body reflecting a slight sheen of blue as the lights hit your skin perfectly. his hands grasped at your hips, his back against the wall behind his bed as you bounced yourself up and down on his cock, face to face. he supported your movements with his hands on your hips, eyebrows furrowed. you were so fucking tight around him, and your bodies seemed to come together perfectly, like it was meant to be. the way your lips were parted as you moaned his name, and how you almost screamed when he met your movement by thrusting upwards, and how he had to cover your mouth with his hand as to not disturb his roommates. he had moved you to lay on your back now, his body hovering above yours as he fucked you into his mattress. your hands intertwined above your head, and you could fe that all familiar feeling of a bubble about to burst in your stomach.

“f-fuck..fuck! im so, i’m so fucking—“ your sentences weren’t even coherent as he fucked you rhythmically. your back arched, letting him hit an even deeper spot inside of you that made you cry out his name. you removed your hand from his, moving up to cup his cheeks as you stared into his eyes. “fuck..don’t stop. please, don’t stop.”

“fuck…” larry groaned back. he was close, and the way you looked at him as if he was the only thing that mattered right then and there just drew him closer. it was all too much. the way you cried out his name and pulled him into kiss you. it just came out. he mumbled, “fuck…i love you,” and the way immediately after that you pulled him in for another kiss sent him over the edge. you could feel his cum drip out as he pulled himself out of you. you laid on his bed, chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. he uttered that he was going to get you a towel to clean up with after he pulled on some sweatpants.

as you laid there, now partially clothed but still sweaty, you thought about it. you thought about what he had said to you, and how the words alone were enough to make you come undone. your face burned as you thought about it.

larry could really just kill himself. he was so fucking stupid. he stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror, fist clenched so tightly that his skin turned paler. he was going to act as if it never happened. it was for the best. it was always for the best.

as the two of you laid in his bed, you couldn’t help but think. and in an impulse, you blurted out, “do you really love me?” as soon as the words had left your mouth, your face heated up with embarrassment. you had meant to phrase it more carefully, but the sound of his voice kept repeating that same line in your head.

larry recoiled, barely visible, as he stayed silent. what was he supposed to say? he couldn’t even act cool in the moment as his mind scrambled for words, any words, to come to mind. “uh…” he said, gulping. he could feel his hands getting clammy. “you can, uh…you don’t have to feel obligated to stay if you’re uncomfortable. i don’t want you to feel like you have to pity me.” that came out a bit self deprecating, but he meant it. he was the one who had fucked it up. he was the one that couldn’t even keep his words to himself.

as you processed his sentence, you furrowed your eyebrows. you had been seeing larry for a few months now, was it? the time you spent together, you felt it had become more than just sex. you guys built a friendship, a bond. maybe it was soon, but life didn’t wait for anyone. “no, fuck..! no, i don’t want to leave, i just…” you paused, thinking about it for a moment more. “i think that i might, um. i don’t know, i can’t really think straight right now, i just…i know i have feelings for you.” and you left it at that. you didn’t know if you loved him yet, but you were sure of yourself.

larry’s brain stopped working for a split second in that moment. he took time to replay your words in his head, but only for a second, because before he knew it he was rambling. “wait, seriously? like, actually? you don’t have to say anything to try and make me feel better, know that. i don’t want to try and—“ you cut him off by shaking your head. “no, no! im not just saying this shit, seriously. im really sure of it, actually.” you laughed softly, half heartedly. it was hard to make eye contact.

larry let out an incredulous laugh as you smiled at him nervously. maybe this moment should’ve been more serious, but all he could think in that moment is that he felt happy. truly, genuinely happy. “let me take you out on a date,” he said, to which you responded with a bright smile and a nod. he couldn’t help but laugh again at the situation, and how unorthodox it all felt. he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

the two of you had stayed up late talking. just talking about life, about feelings and emotions. you two didn’t wake until late noon, but waking up to see your face snuggled into his chest was just about the biggest surge of serotonin that larry could’ve received.

#got a little lazy at the end there hmm #writing #sally face #sally face x reader #larry johnson headcanon #larry johnson x reader #larry johnson #headcanons

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bloody-bee-tea · 3 years

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18, 15, 11 for sadness! love your fics sm

18) "Promise me that if I don’t make it back that you’ll watch out for them.”

Jiang Cheng is four when he writes something to his soulmate for the first time. He begged his sister to teach him to write hello, just so that he could let his soulmate know that he’s there and thinking of them and today his sister finally deemed his strokes readable enough to write them out.

Jiang Cheng’s hand shakes a bit—the brush still too big in his tiny hand—but under Jiang Yanli’s watchful eye he manages to write it down on his arm in a way that is at least readable.

“I did it!” Jiang Cheng yells excitedly when he is done and Jiang Yanli smiles at him and pets his head, clearly proud of him.

“And now we wait,” she says and Jiang Cheng sits down more firmly, his arm always in sight so that he doesn’t miss his soulmate’s reply.

It doesn’t take long at all for some new characters to show up, but they are a lot more complicated than what Jiang Cheng just wrote, and he’s not yet old enough to read them properly.

He eagerly holds his arm out for Jiang Yanli to read his soulmate’s message out to him, but he knows something is wrong when her face falls.

“What does it say, a-jie?” he still wants to know and Jiang Yanli pats his head again.

“It says ‘don’t write again’,” she reads out for him and Jiang Cheng pouts.

“That’s not very nice,” he mutters and climbs into Jiang Yanli’s lap when she pulls him over.

“No, it’s not. But it means your soulmate is older than you,” she says and flicks his nose.

“Like you?” Jiang Cheng wants to know and Jiang Yanli laughs.

“Maybe, yes,” she gives back and Jiang Cheng stares at the characters on his arm again.

He has a soulmate! And they are older than him!

“I will draw for them,” Jiang Cheng decides, because his mother berated him often enough that doodling odd shapes on his papers is actually not the same as properly writing characters, and his soulmate only told him to stop one of those things.

“You should do that,” Jiang Yanli encourages him though and Jiang Cheng gets started on it right away.

And he doesn’t stop, not even when he doesn’t receive an answer from his soulmate.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is nine when he tells his soulmate his name.

He never again received an answer from his soulmate, but that never stopped him from continuing to doodle on his skin, much to his mother’s despair.

‘My name is Jiang Cheng’ he writes out one day, early in the morning, so he can scrub it off before breakfast and before his mother can say something to him about it.

He fears that his soulmate might not yet be awake and that he won’t get an answer until a much later time, but then he already feels the tell-tale tingle of his soulmate writing something.

Jiang Cheng has only felt it once in his life before, but it’s not a feeling you easily forget.

‘I don’t want to know’ is the reply he receives and Jiang Cheng’s face falls.

He scrubs his own name off his skin and sees with relief that his soulmate does the same on their end, but then the implication of what just happens hits him and he crawls under his blanket again.

His soulmate doesn’t want him. They didn’t even ask for his name before or any other identifying feature and now they didn’t even offer anything in return and Jiang Cheng has to bite back tears at that.

Fine, he thinks after long miserable minutes. If his soulmate doesn’t want him, then he doesn’t want his soulmate either.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is sixteen when he has to watch Wei Wuxian write obscenities on his arms in broad daylight and he’s also sixteen when he has to see Lan Wangji blush as he tries to cover the characters on his arm up.

There’s an ugly feeling forming in his chest and Jiang Cheng knows that it’s jealousy.

It seems like at least Wei Wuxian has a soulmate who is not completely against the match. It’s not like Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli can relate, and that thought at least brings some comfort to Jiang Cheng.

He’s not the only one who’s soulmate doesn’t like them.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is seventeen when his Sect burns and his family dies.

He knows it’s stupid, even as he puts a brush with shaking fingers to his arm, but he has to warn his soulmate.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t know if they are a cultivator or not, if they are in danger or perfectly safe, but he has to warn them to give them a fighting chance.

‘The Wens are attacking. Please stay safe’, he writes out, his strokes barely legible and then everything is a blur.

He does not get a reply from his soulmate.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is eighteen when he goes to war.

He spends three months looking for his brother, before he finds him and brings him home, and then he can only remember battlefield after battlefield.

Jiang Cheng simultaneously doesn’t feel old enough to be doing this and like he has never done anything else as Zidian swings in a wide arch over his head, but then everything blurs again as the next wave of Wen soldiers hit.

He always feels exhausted down to his bones these days but at least he knows that his siblings are safe and that’s more than many of the other soldiers can say.

Jiang Cheng tries not to think about his soulmate too much.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when he feels alive for the first time in months as Nie Mingjue pushes him against a wall and follows the motion up with a kiss.

Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he’s been looking for a while now but then again, who hasn’t? It’s Nie Mingjue after all and Jiang Cheng cannot believe he gets to have this, if even for only one night.

He moves his hands over Nie Mingjue’s shoulders, leaning back against the wall and letting Nie Mingjue bite kiss after kiss down the length of his neck.

“This is no strings attached,” Nie Mingjue rasps out between kisses. “Don’t make it into something it’s not.”

“I’m not that naïve,” Jiang Cheng bites out, but his voice threatens to break away into a moan when Nie Mingjue sucks at the hinge of his jaw.

Jiang Cheng damn well knows what a war hook-up is, and he’s aware that after this is all done, things will be completely different.

Neither of them will have time to look at the other again, no matter if they even want to or not.

Though Jiang Cheng can’t deny that he really, really wants to. He wouldn’t mind if this became a more regular thing, if he’s being honest, but he keeps those thoughts to himself, which is not that hard when Nie Mingjue lowers his head to kiss a mark into the base of Jiang Cheng’s throat.

“Fuck,” Jiang Cheng pants out and his hands dig into Nie Mingjue’s shoulders. “Come on, tent, tent!” he gets out despite the mind-blowing things Nie Mingjue is alreadydoing to him and he doesn’t even want to imagine how he’s going to survive the night.

But that is something he can figure out after they’ve had sex. For now, Jiang Cheng pulls Nie Mingjue on top of him again, after he pushed him down onto the bed, and he can’t wait for them to undress.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen and freshly fucked when he finds out that Nie Mingjue is his soulmate.

Jiang Cheng wakes up in the middle of the night, plagued by nightmares like he so often is since the burning of Lotus Pier, and despite him being absolute exhausted he can’t fall asleep again.

So he takes his time to admire Nie Mingjue—and reminding himself that this is a one-time thing only—but when he can’t quite keep still anymore he starts to draw shapes onto Nie Mingjue’s arm.

He stopped drawing for his soulmate a long time ago, but it seems like old habits die hard, because Jiang Cheng is just mindlessly drawing shapes into Nie Mingjue’s skin when he feels an answering tingle on his own arm.

Jiang Cheng freezes because surely it can’t be. Surely this is just one big coincident.

He makes the same motion over and over again, always keeping an eye on Nie Mingjue to check that he doesn’t wake up, and Jiang Cheng shudders when he feels the phantom sensation of the same movement on his arm.

“No,” Jiang Cheng whispers, because he doesn’t trust this; Nie Mingjue would have told him.

But now there’s this niggling doubt in Jiang Cheng’s mind so he cranes his head around to check if there are any brushes nearby. When he sees one he quickly gets out of bed to retrieve it, together with some ink, but when he turns around to the bed Nie Mingjue is staring at him.

“What are you doing?” Nie Mingjue wants to know, warily eying the brush in Jiang Cheng’s hand and a tiny part of Jiang Cheng thinks that’s already confirmation enough.

“You’re my soulmate,” Jiang Cheng says, and it feels strange to say it out loud, and he can see how Nie Mingjue immediately closes himself off.

“I’m not. I told you this is just a one time thing, don’t get any ideas in your head.”

“But I’m not just getting any ideas in my head, am I?” Jiang Cheng asks and before Nie Mingjue can say anything else, he dips the brush into the ink and moves it over his arm.

It’s just a wiggly line, but it’s enough because the same line shows up on Nie Mingjue’s arm, no matter how much he tries to hide it by pulling the blanket up.

“What the fuck, Mingjue,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and then the anger bubbles over.

He always thought he was more sad that his soulmate doesn’t want him, but it seems like the anger was not far off, either.

“It doesn’t matter,“ Nie Mingjue snaps out turning away from Jiang Cheng.

“You could have at least told me. You could have at least told me that you don’t want me,” Jiang Cheng says and he puts the brush down with deliberately careful movements, because otherwise he might just break it.

“It’s not even—” Nie Mingjue starts but he cuts himself off. “It doesn’t matter, Wanyin. We’re at war!”

“We weren’t when I was four, or nine, or fifteen, or any other time,” Jiang Cheng spits back because what kind of excuse is that even. “What are your excuses for those times, huh?”

“I’m going to die young, Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue says and suddenly he sounds tired. “Either I die in two days, or in two years at best, but it’s going to be young. And I wasn’t about to do that to any soulmate. I’m not about to do that to you.”

That confession leaves Jiang Cheng speechless for a moment, before he manages to hold on to his anger again.

“So you just thought you’d fuck me once and be done with it?” he hisses and he can see how Nie Mingjue flinches at his words.

It feels like a very hollow victory.

“I just thought—I thought I could have this, at least for one night. Know how it felt like to be with someone that was intended for me,” Nie Mingjue whispers and he’s still not meeting Jiang Cheng’s eyes.

“You could have had it earlier. You can have it after we kill Wen Ruohan, too,” Jiang Cheng tries, because he doesn’t quite understand why Nie Mingjue is so pessimistic about everything.

Jiang Cheng is the one who already lost everything, and even he has more hope than Nie Mingjue it seems.

“I’m not sure—the assault in two days—” Nie Mingjue starts, but he trails off with a shrug. “There’s so much that can go wrong.”

“Then don’t lead it,” Jiang Cheng immediately says, but of course Nie Mingjue only laughs at that suggestion.

“You think I really could just send our people to die, while I stay behind? While I stay safe? Maybe we’re not made for each other, after all,” Nie Mingjue tells him and Jiang Cheng grinds his teeth together.

“Don’t you dare,” Jiang Cheng hisses, because how dare Nie Mingjue try to turn it around like this. “The intel we got from Lan Xichen’s spy was good so far, wasn’t it? What makes you think this one will be different?”

“It’s too good,” Nie Mingjue says with a sigh. “Something is bound to go wrong sooner or later and with our luck it’s sooner. All it needs is one missed troupe movement; one wrong time and we’re all done for.”

“You really don’t think you’re going to survive that mission,” Jiang Cheng whispers, because he can hear the quiet acceptance in Nie Mingjue’s voice.

“It doesn’t matter if I do or not, Wanyin. That’s not the point.”

“Then what is the point, Mingjue? Please do enlighten me, because so far it doesn’t make that much sense to me.”

“I’m going to die young. It doesn’t matter if it happens at Wen Ruohan’s hands or if I succumb to a qi deviation, but I probably don’t have more than two to three years left. You really think I want you to suffer through that?”

“What do you mean, qi deviation? You seem perfectly healthy.”

“It’s a family thing,” Nie Mingjue tiredly says and scrubs a hand over his face. “My father died of one as did his father before. As will I.”

“I thought Wen Ruohan killed your father,” Jiang Cheng gives back and he shrugs awkwardly when Nie Mingjue stares in surprise at him. “What? I was the Sect heir, even back then. I did listen to politics and I heard you loud and clear.”

“Well, then you heard more than the other Sects did,” Nie Mingjue says with a bitter smile, but then he sighs. “It’s part of our cultivational style,” he then admits but Jiang Cheng won’t have it.

“No. I’m not going to let that happen. You can’t use that as an excuse, because I will find a way to prevent that.”

“And how are you going to do what my father and his father and his father couldn’t, huh?” Nie Mingjue wants to know, but he slightly turned towards Jiang Cheng, which gives him more hope than it probably should.

“Dual cultivation, for one,” Jiang Cheng says. “Your father’s wives were already dead when it happened, right? That could help. That could give you time.”

“It’s not a permanent solution,” Nie Mingjue warns him and Jiang Cheng stubbornly shakes his head.

“But it will give me enough time to figure something else out. Our Clarity Bells are not called like that for nothing,” Jiang Cheng admits, his eyes falling to the bell fastened to his belt. “We don’t make a big deal out of it, but we Jiangs are pretty good healers.”

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue lowly says and Jiang Cheng can tell that he still wants to tell him no.

“One good reason, Mingjue. Give me one good reason why not, especially now that I know. Something apart from your qi deviations.”

“The mission in two days,” Nie Mingjue immediately gives back. “I don’t have a good feeling about it and it’s more than likely that we both won’t survive the war at all.”

“So you just make sure you survive the mission and then we can give this a try, is that what you’re saying.”

“Wanyin,” Nie Mingjue starts but Jiang Cheng shakes his head.

“No, tell me,” he begs, because he needs to know if there are other reasons for Nie Mingjue to hold back all this time. “It’s—if you have a problem with me, just tell me that and we can move on, but don’t use these excuses.”

“Why would I have a problem with you?” Nie Mingjue asks and he seems honestly taken off guard by that. “Did you already forget what we just did? Why would I do that if I want nothing to do with you?”

“I don’t know, Mingjue, I’m not the one who willingly stayed away from my soulmate since he was four,” Jiang Cheng bitterly shoots back and Nie Mingjue’s entire face softens.

“Wanyin,” he breathes out and then he offers his hand to Jiang Cheng. “Wanyin, come here,” he cajoles him and Jiang Cheng is helpless but to go to him.

He slides their hands together and when Nie Mingjue tugs him onto the bed, Jiang Cheng snuggles into his side. He can feel that Nie Mingjue is still reluctant, but in the end he puts his arm around Jiang Cheng.

“My father didn’t make a secret out of my fate,” Nie Mingjue admits. “By the time you wrote me that very first time, I already knew I wouldn’t live past 25.”

“It won’t happen,” Jiang Cheng says again, because maybe if he just says it often enough he can will it to become true.

“Maybe,” Nie Mingjue amends and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head. “But back then—I just didn’t want to do that to you. And then you told me your name and suddenly I had a face to go with my soulmate and it honestly just made things so much more difficult. Huaisang kept me updated on you and Xichen couldn’t stop talking about how Lan Qiren likes you and I knew I could only make you unhappy, so I stayed away.”

Nie Mingjue takes a deep breath.

“And then you lost your family, your Sect; even your brother for a while. I wasn’t going to add to that misery.”

“That’s very nice of you,” Jiang Cheng says, and he is honestly a bit choked up, but he will still not allow this. “But I refuse to be coddled. Yes, I already lost everything; I’m not about to lose you, too.”

“This is not something you can out-stubborn,” Nie Mingjue tries, and Jiang Cheng doesn’t understand why he still simply won’t accept that he’s settled with Jiang Cheng now.

“Did you see the people I brought to this fight? I out-stubborned the destruction of my Sect, your health problem is nothing to me,” he says, much more confident than he really feels, but he’s sure if Nie Mingjue would just give them a chance, they can figure something out.

“God, I adore you so,” Nie Mingjue whispers and presses a kiss to Jiang Cheng’s head.

“Then finally accept that I’m your soulmate and that I’m here to stay,” Jiang Cheng bites out, furiously trying to keep the blush off his face, but of course he’s failing.

“After the mission,” Nie Mingjue amends. “After the war. If we survive this—then we can try.”

Jiang Cheng is not happy with that, not at all, but it’s better than anything else he got so far, and so he’ll take it.

“Okay.”

“But promise me that if I don’t make it back that you’ll watch out for everyone. They will need a new leader and Xichen isn’t cut out for this,” Nie Mingjue says.

“Fine,” Jiang Cheng gets out, trying to keep his tears back, because Nie Mingjue is already so convinced that he won’t survive this, it’s almost like he’s already dead. “But Wen Ruohan doesn’t get to kill you, too.”

“Okay,” Nie Mingjue soothingly whispers and while Jiang Cheng is aware that there’s still a lot to talk about, he doesn’t resist when Nie Mingjue pulls him down with him again.

They can talk after the war.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when he hears that Nie Mingjue and his people have been caught; the mission was a trap, just like Nie Mingjue feared and now he’s in Wen Ruohan’s hands.

When Jiang Cheng brings a brush with shaking hands to his skin, it almost feels familiar, but in the last second he thinks better of it. He can’t let Wen Ruohan know that Nie Mingjue has a soulmate; the man is already sadistic enough. Who knows what he will come up with to torture Nie Mingjue.

So Jiang Cheng can do nothing more but to trace shapes into his skin over and over again, hoping that Nie Mingjue can feel him.

Apart from that, Jiang Cheng can only fight.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is just shy of nineteen when Meng Yao stabs Wen Ruohan and just like that the war is won.

Jiang Cheng doesn’t bother to celebrate with the other’s just yet; he needs to find his soulmate first, before he can get to that.

He makes his way into the palace, letting his instincts guide him deeper and deeper inside, until he finally finds the throne room.

Nie Mingjue is there, laid out on the floor, and for a split second Jiang Cheng is afraid that he’s too late; that all of Nie Mingjue’s dark premonitions were true and that this is it for them.

“Mingjue,” he yells, running up to Nie Mingjue and skidding to a stop on his knees right by his side.

He’s almost afraid to touch him, to feel his cold skin, but then Nie Mingjue’s eyelids flutter and Jiang Cheng could sob with relief.

“Mingjue,” he whispers again and pulls Nie Mingjue up, so that he’s laying in his lap.

“Don’t trust him,” Nie Mingjue mutters, turning towards Jiang Cheng. “Meng Yao. Don’t trust him.”

“Okay,” Jiang Cheng immediately promises him, and if this is important enough for Nie Mingjue to tell him in this state, then he will heed his warning. “I got you now, don’t worry.”

“Didn’t die,” Nie Mingjue says with a small smile, even though Jiang Cheng can tell that he must be in agonizing pain, judging by the wounds all over him.

“No, you didn’t,” Jiang Cheng breathes out and he thanks all the gods for that, as he leans down to press a kiss to Nie Mingjue’s forehead.

“You get your chance, then,” Nie Mingjue says and raises a hand to cup Jiang Cheng’s face. “I didn’t die, so you get to find a way to keep me alive.”

“Done,” Jiang Cheng promises him and covers Nie Mingjue’s hand with his own. “We’ll figure it out.”

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is nineteen when his brother-in-law, his sister and his brother die in quick succession.

He wants to crumble with his grief, but the baby in his arms relies on him to stand and it’s not like Nie Mingjue would let him fall, either.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is twenty-one when he marries Nie Mingjue, and despite how close his grief still is, it’s the happiest day of his life.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is twenty-three when Nie Mingjue starts to suffer qi deviations. While Jiang Cheng hates to see his husband suffer like that, it finally gives him the opportunity to see what the Clarity Bell can do for him, and from then on it’s almost easy for him to figure out how to make it have a permanent effect on Nie Mingjue.

~*~*~

Jiang Cheng is twenty-six when he and Nie Mingjue adopt a little sister for Jin Ling and when Jiang Cheng looks at the tiny four-year-old held securely in Nie Mingjue’s arms, who’s beaming with happiness, Jiang Cheng wonders what’s in store for her life.

It’s not like he could have ever imagined to end up this happy when he was four and he hopes his daughter will have the same happiness waiting for her.

Dialogue Prompts

Link to my ko-fi on the sidebar!

#bt writes #mingcheng #soulmates #hurt/comfort #angst #fluff #getting together #canon-compliant #mostly at least #the untamed #mdzs #jiang cheng #nie mingjue #anon

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quillsanddaydreams · 3 years

Text

teddy bear

fred weasley x reader

—author’s note: I really have no explanation for this except that I saw an old fic of mine and the idea just struck. This is a re-imagined version of 'don't say goodbye' from my main i.e. @with-love-anu Fred had been spending lesser and lesser time with you every day and you couldn't take it anymore.

—warning(s): mentions of food and drinks, break up, angst but it's hurt and comfort, low-key descriptions of anxiety attack. gender neutral!reader (pronouns haven't been used throughout the story)

—wordcount: 2,190

The fire crackled orange and gold, painting the dark walls. You were sitting right beside the mantle looking at the wall ticking. It was 11:35pm. Fred should’ve been home hours ago.

Tilting your head, you ran your thumb through the sharp edge’s of the photo frame. Friendly— happy faces smiled back at you. It was you and Fred from your 6th year. He had an arm around you, kissing your cheek before winking at the camera. Oh you remembered that day. Vividly. The two of you had just started dating after months of pining. Fred had been an absolute sweetheart. One date led to the next and you didn’t realise you two had spent years together. From graduating from hogwarts, to working your way up on your jobs, moving in together… You were madly in love and nothing else seemed to have mattered.

Everything looked great. Looked. Your parents often told you about ichs. A common rash. Ignore it and it will go away. Scratch it, and it will make your life hell. They never told you however, how long it takes. And you had been shutting your eyes to this one far too long. Fred was never there. Never. Both of you had jobs. Demanding jobs. Yet it seemed Fred was the only one without a moment to spare.

Your morning began with you getting up and ready for your day. Freshening up, making breakfast for the two of you— storing Fred’s with a quick warming spell and a note because you knew you’ll be gone by the time he woke up. Never having the heart to rouse him you simply smiled and pressed a kiss to his forehead, apprating to the ministry. When you came back, he would still be at the shop, working late into the night. Exhaustion caught you, you were unable to keep yourself from falling asleep after 12.

Heaving a sigh, you pushed your head back staring at the ceiling above. The thing was that you missed him. Terribly. You couldn’t even remember the time he held you, let alone ask about your day— it had been months. There had been a hundred times, sitting alone having dinner or seeing his side of the bed empty. Loneliness caught with you reminisened all the times he would pull you over his lap, pressing kisses all over your face. Telling you about the newest invention at his shop. All confrontations with him about the same had ended the same way. With him promising he would try. He never did.

Glancing at the clock again, you felt your body grow hot with anger. It was nearly midnight. You had left him a note to come home early that day. Promotion at work had flashed like the perfect occasion to catch up. Happiness had been bubbling through you all day. Although as time passed, your excitement dulled. The food turned cold and ice in the firewhiskey bucket had melted. Your eyes pricked with tears as you felt your stomach churn. There was a pop as the door opened to reveal a disheveled Fred. He gave you a small smile before moving straight towards the bedroom.

“Fred,” you called out, clearing your throat and wiping away the tears. Did he really not notice? “Did you get my note?”

“Hmm?” he said, shuffling through his drawer. “Oh! Yes I did, sorry but work came up love, couldn’t make it.”

You clenched your jaw.

“Work?” you asked, agitated. “What work keeps you out until midnight Fred?”

His answering sigh infuriated you further.

“You need to change your work schedule, Fred,” you said, crossing your arms. “George comes back to Angelina before 8. I’m sure you can manage before 9. I don't see you Fred. I don't get to talk to you or spend a moment with you. It's like I'm living alone— I spent more time with you before we moved in!”

Fred squeezed his eyes shut, tired.

“I’ll try, I promise,” he said after a minute. “Let’s eat first, shall we?”

“No, Fred. You promise me that every time,” you hissed. “I want you to tell me you’ll be home tomorrow before 9. Like a normal person.”

“What do you want me to do, huh?” Fred snapped. “I thought you would be more supportive of me and my business.”

“Don’t you dare say that,” you threatened. “I’ve been there for you every step of the way. What I am asking you is for you to take out some time for me. I need you to be there for me too!”

“Well excuse me for wanting to earn enough money for our future. For wishing you didn’t have to work to live a happy life.”

“Fred,” you said, your voice a dangerous whisper. “You know exactly how much I love my job. I’ve always been happy working. What has gotten into you? You were always so supportive of me!”

Something crossed Fred’s eye and he took a step back, shaking himself. He took a deep breath.

“Listen,” Fred said calmly. “It’s late now, we can talk about it tomorrow.”

“When, Fred? When? In the morning, when you are asleep or at night which is the time right now?”

Fred remained silent. It felt like you were bursting. All the frustration, sadness and disappointment poured in.

“It hurts, Fred. It hurts and it feels like I’m alone in this. People ask me how we are doing and I don’t know what to tell them. I have no idea what’s going on with the person I live with. I don’t even know where our relationship is goin—”

“You know what?” Fred said, finally losing his cool, throwing his hands in the air. “If you feel so alone, maybe you wouldn’t find a difference if we even separate.”

You gasped.

“I’m going to give you a moment to take that back,” you hushed. Fred crossed his arms. “Think about it before telling me you meant it.”

“Listen, you know I put my work above anything else,” he said, gritting his teeth. “I’ve always wanted to be rich enough so people like Malfoy wouldn’t dare to insult me or my family. That shop. It’s my life. It’s everything that lets me afford the things I never could.”

“So the shop’s more important to you than having me stay?” you said, your throat heavy. Digging your nails into the palm of your hand you searched Fred’s face. The face you had fallen in love with, the one that didn’t quite meet your eyes now which forebode tears. No you couldn’t cry now. Not when he disregarded your job you had been so passionate about, not when his status in life was more important to him. When Fred didn’t say anything, you let out a dry laugh. Shaking your head you moved towards your wardrobe, your head thumping. You took out a couple of your clothes, money and some documents, packing up a bag. Fred stared at you wide eyed as you went for the door.

“What are you doing?” he demanded as you opened the door moving out.

“Well, since you don’t care if we separate and your shop is the only thing you’re living for; it only seems fair that I leave,” you said, furiously rubbing away the tear that fell down your cheek. “Oh and Weasley? I hope you become the wealthiest wizard in the country.”

The last thing you saw was Fred’s shook form before a familiar house came into view. Knocking on your best friend’s door, you wondered whether you should have taken a hotel. It was very late after all. Before you could turn back and leave, Ruhaan opened up. He looked sleepy but his expression changed on seeing you.

“Hey, are you alright? What’s the—”

“Can I stay here tonight?” you blurted. “I’ll crash on the couch... ”

Ruhaan wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leading you in.

“Of course you can,” he said as your throat felt heavy. “You’re always welcome here, what happened?”

“I… we broke up,” you croaked. Admitting things aloud often made things real. Stating your breakup to Ruhaan made you really assess the situation. Blood rushed to your head as you realised you really just left back someone you had loved for six long years. Still did. Your legs wobbled making you lose your balance but Ruhaan held you steady.

“I can’t believe it… I… love him…” you gulped.

“Let me first get you some tea,” he said, rubbing your sides.

-♡♡♡-

Fred was a mess. He fell on the floor with a thump, realising what happened moments ago. You left. The person he had loved all his life had left him. And it was his fault. All those months he had been trying to get the latest product to work. George had given up on it long ago knowing well how dangerous it was to work on. Yet he stood back, working extra hours determined to get it done. It made him lose sight of what was important, you. His heart constricted as he felt like he couldn’t breath. Hot tears fell down his cheeks as he let out a frustrated shout. He had finally lost everything.

For the next few days, Fred worked as an auto pilot. Numbness had caught up to him. He couldn’t bring himself to eat or sleep. Your thoughts plagued him. It was like he was watching your face fall as you moved out over and over again. The apartment felt devoid of spirit— dark and cold. Fred missed you, your smile as he sleepily joined you in bed, pulling you closer; your notes with little doodles telling him to take care… George vaguely knew about what happened, he couldn’t bring himself to talk about it. Visits to your best friend’s place have always gone the same. Ruhaan told him you weren’t there.

Fred wanted— needed you. He loved you. Always did. And he would be damned if he failed to show you. Again. Washing his face, he apparated to Ruhaan’s door again. Biting the inside of his cheek, he waited as a familiar face came into view sighing on spotting him.

“Fred,” he said, taking a deep breath. “I’ve told you…”

“Please,” he said, cutting him off. “Please, I know what I’ve done. Terrible won’t start to describe it. Just give me a chance to talk. I won’t push. I won’t. I am really ashamed of the things I did. At least let me make it right…”

Ruhaan searched his face, mentally debating with himself. Fred was pleading, begging. He would do anything to make this right.

“Alright, don’t screw this up,” Ruhaan said, ushering him in directing him towards your room. “The first door on the right.”

Fred nodded, moving briskly to where he indicated. Heart pounding, he knocked. Your voice came throaty, calling him in. When he saw you, his breath caught up. You looked terrible. Dark circles under red puffy eyes, nestled up in blankets. Noticing him, you sat up straighter.

“I told Ruhaan I didn’t want to see you,” you muttered. Fred moved to sit beside you. You looked away.

“I…” he began, not finding the correct words. “I brought this for you…”

He fished out a small box out of his pocket, handing it to you. It transformed into a teddy bear as the pack touched you, splaying itself over your hand like a rock. You narrowed your eyes at Fred.

“I’ve been working on this in secret for the last six months,” he rasped. “A teddy bear for blue days. The more I worked on it, the stiffer it became. I could not imagine what exactly I was doing wrong. I tried charming it, transforming it, twisting and twerking it around...”

“Fred,” you said, cutting him off. He blinked as streaks of heavy tears fell down his cheek.

“I was so fucking angry and determined to make it work that I couldn’t see anything else than that,” he sobbed. “I’ve said and done things that I couldn’t forgive myself for. I’ve made promises I never followed and I’ve let you go. I… I know that there is no reason for you to even hear me out right now. But I can’t lose you. I can’t… I can’t. I’ll do whatever it takes to have you back but I don’t want to say goodbye to the best thing in my life. Please. You don’t have to excuse me but give me one opportunity to make it up to you.”

You inhaled sharply.

“You’ll come home before 9?” you asked.

“At seven everyday.”

“You’ll spare time for me?”

“Dates every other weekend.”

“You’ll cook everything for the next 3 weeks?” you said as Fred let out a breathy chuckle.

“Only your favourites.”

You looked at his face, wet from crying. Eyes praying for your answer.

“You’ll kiss me right now?” you said as a dull surprise crossed his face. He cradled your face, kissing you softly. You closed your eyes, body relaxing for the first time in days.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, his voice low. You held his hand, squeezing it.

“I know.”

—as for the taglist: I don’t make taglists, I have a blog @from-my-quill which is updated whenever I post fanfiction. You could have the notifications on for it and it will work just like me tagging you.

⟨⟨REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED⟩⟩

#fred #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley angst #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley imagine #fred x reader #fred x you #fred x y/n #from anu's quill #hp #harry potter #george weasley

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sup-hoes-its-me · 3 years

Text

Golden III (Kakashi x Reader)

A/N: Hi guys! Thank you so much for keeping up with this story. Here is the final part, I hope you enjoy!

Word count: 4500

______

Kakashi could safely say that he and Y/N had become friends over the following months, right after he decided to let her back into his life. They went to eat at restaurants together, and he spent time reading in her bookstore when he wasn’t off on a mission. After his missions, she was there waiting in her storefront waiting for him, regardless how dirty and worn down he was, she would hug him tight to her chest and thank him for coming back home safe.

Things almost felt normal between them; the affection felt so good. Sometimes, he felt like he could just melt away at the soft touch of her fingers against his skin. They weren’t exactly the same as before, her hugs and touches here and there, but it was good enough for him. If anything, they were more than good enough, he longed for them.

The pair had more time together than ever, with her dreams coming in surplus as the time passed, more and more little things popping up each night. Any time he was home in his apartment, she would run over that evening to jump into his bed and tell him the latest information she had in her dreams.

He always explained things the best he could, and she listened so intently, repeating certain things so she could remember them easier. It was a little difficult for her to process so much information at one time, and she often forgot things he taught her, but he never got frustrated. Whenever she would mess up, she’d just smile and ask him to please explain it again and he would, making sure to emphasize the important parts. It felt like they had all the time in the world together when in their little bubble.

It was so soothing. He found himself slipping back in love with her so deeply, each day they had together only furthering the inevitable. It didn’t scare him as much anymore, the thought of falling for her again. Whether she got her memories back or not, she was still the same woman he knew before, he knew that now. She laughed at her own jokes and rambled on about books in her store. She giggled at inappropriate jokes like a little kid, and doodled flowers and animals in her notebooks. She wore her same old ink and coffee stained aprons as before, tied into a big bow along her waist.

She was still his baby, and he was coming to terms with that. He welcomed her back into his life happily, and she matched the gesture.

Once again, she sat in his bed, her legs crossed in front of her and a notebook in her hands. For her sake, she started keeping a dream journal in which she wrote down every single dream she could remember and brought them to Kakashi to either learn more about or dismiss as just a regular nonsense dream. She flipped through the pages covered in her handwriting and doodles before coming to a stop on the most recent night’s visions.

“In this dream last night, I saw a huge man with white hair, like he was ginormous. He was in my store for some reason, looking at those books that you have on your shelf,” she told him, pointing at his favorite series of all. “He had on a lot of fishnets on his legs and arms, too, if that helps any. Do you know him?”

He nodded. “The book series is call Icha Icha and it’s a masterpiece. The man you saw is named Jiraiya, and he is the author of the series.” She corrected that in her notebook, and took down what the real information was. Writing some of the memories and facts down only helped to reinforce them in her head. “More importantly, he is also one of the Legendary Sannin. He trained with Lady Tsunade and Orochimaru.”

“Ohhhh, wow, okay. Every ninja has so much history in this village. It’s fun connecting the dots with you, Kakashi,” she told him, “It’s like we’re reading from a story book.”

“The ways of the five great nations and the shinobi are definitely interesting. Some terrible things happen, and some amazing ones do as well. Makes for some unique people.”

Secretly, he was glad she liked to sit with him and go over all her memories, organizing and learning. She always wanted to know more and more, and each day she seemed to be growing slowly into a person he could call familiar. The way her eyes lit up at his stories, and her showing him little doodles in her notebook that she just couldn’t put into words: he loved being such a big part of her life. It always felt like she was so close to tipping over the edge, all that potential for her memories to come rushing back in at once.

They never did, but she got so close so many times.

He still didn’t know what he was going to do if she did remember him again. He loved her, yes, but he had already made up his mind to distance himself enough that their relationship wasn’t intimate like before. He wanted her to be safe, that’s all he wanted. He couldn’t imagine another accident like this one ruining her life a second time

And so, he smiled and laughed with her. He let her give him hugs, but not too many. He struggled to control himself at times, to not let go and give her his everything like before. He kept his distance, but at least he could feel her warmth in the same room now. He knew a relationship would only lead to more pain, but they could be friends. Just friends. So long as he could make her happy even for a little while.

He noticed she had flipped the page to the next entry, and suddenly, she was fiddling with the edges of the paper, staring down at the words intently. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head to snap out of her thoughts, raising her eyes to meet his. She was smiling, as usual, but he could tell it was fake. The sadness was creeping up her cheeks and showing in her eyes, the way they had lost their shine. “Yeah, um, this page is just nonsense, No use talking about it.”

“I’m sure it’s not. Any dream you have probably means something.”

She shook her head, swallowing down what she actually meant to say. “It’s just not something we need to talk about.”

“Ah,” he exhaled, his eyes taking in her disposition, an obvious change in the way she held herself. She’d lowered her eyes, and stroked the edge of her book, a tremor in her wrist. “It’s fine, Y/N. Whatever is good for you.” He wasn’t going to push. He was just here to give her knowledge and a friend during this rough patch. He wasn’t going to divulge in emotions that she obviously wanted to keep to herself.

She scanned the next page for a more recent dream, but the last page had changed her tone. He sighed, nudging her thigh with his foot. “Let’s stop for today. I’m off tomorrow, you can come back when you’re feeling better.”

The woman nodded and brushed back a bit of loose hair that had come undone during their time together. She was just about ready to leave the apartment and head back to her own place. As she shut the book in her lap, she snuck another peek at his face, only to eyes with no words. As usual. He was always more into observing than speaking, and she was fine with that. She was more than talkative enough to fill the empty space.

He just liked listening to her voice, seeing the way her lips moved. He wished she would stay for longer, continue talking to him and filling the empty place in his heart.

“You’re probably right,” she mumbled. But he was not unaware of the way her lip quivered with each syllable falling from her lips. Nor did he miss the tears that had gathered at her waterline, that she kept from falling. It made him confused, the way he felt. He didn’t want her to get too close to him, but the thought of letting her leave his apartment about to burst into tears made him feel like shit. Recently, he was beginning to feel like one of the shittiest people alive.

He shifted from his spot lounging in the bed to reach out and grab onto her wrist, keeping her from leaving her seat just yet. “Y/N, tell me what’s wrong? You don’t have to pretend you’re not upset when you're around me, you know that right?”

“I-I know, but it’s just...I don’t know what to do. I don’t know if I want to keep coming to see you like this, Kakashi,” she whimpered, pulling her wrist from his hold, as he wasn’t holding with any strength. “I don’t even want to talk to you anymore.”

He felt a tug in his chest from fear. He never expected to hear those words from her. Not with her like this and not before either. He thought they got along. He was really trying to make things easier for her. He wanted to go back and fix whatever he had done so she would want him again. He felt sick, knowing she didn’t need him now, or even want him.

“What do you mean?” he asked calmly, despite the storm brewing in his chest.

She turned away from him, squeezing her eyes shut to keep the tears from overflowing. They dripped into her lap and stained her work skirt. She had to bite her lip to keep her herself from crying out, so sad it burned in her chest right above her heart. Minutes passed of her harsh breaths and his eyes trailed on her weak figure, lips just ajar. He wanted to apologize, to tell her he was sorry for whatever he had done, sorry for everything possible. He wanted to wrap her up in his arms and promise that he would never let anything happen to her ever again.

But he would never do that. She wouldn’t let him. Not with the way things were.

Eventually, she found the breath to speak. “I keep having more and more dreams about you. About us. I just can’t keep coming here and acting like none of that stuff ever happened, Kakashi, and that’s what you want me to do.”

“Y/N-”

“On that page that I skipped, I had a dream written down, and it was one of the longest memories I’ve had so far. I just can’t stop thinking about it,” she cried, furiously bringing the heels of her palms up to her eyes and wiping away the bitter tears from her eyes that stung when she blinked. “We were younger, and you were holding me. We were sitting on a bench by some trees and there was rain falling and I just remember crying so hard, I just couldn’t stop crying. I remember the pain in my chest and the way my lungs burned struggling for air.”

He nodded, and he felt like he knew what memory she was recalling, but he would let her finish. She continued to cry into her hands, her arms shaking as they curled into her body. She lifted her legs to the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around them, hugging anything she could to her quivering form.

“And-And, you were just hugging me and I remember feeling so comfortable in your arms, like that is where I was supposed to be all the time. I loved you, Kakashi. I loved you so much, and I could feel it, this warmth in my chest that made me know things would be okay. That whatever was going on would resolve itself,” she confessed, “And then, you...you kissed me. I-I couldn’t tell if it was the first time, but I remember how special it was to me. I remember not wanting it to be over.

“I keep getting back my memories, and it’s making me fall in love with you all over again. And I know that you don’t want to be in a relationship with me anymore. It just hurts. I think maybe if I could just get away from you it wouldn’t be so bad. I feel so stupid telling you how I feel- how those memories with you felt,” Y/N explained, wiping more soppy wet tears away. She could tell her eyes were puffy and red at this point from crying so much, and that just made her feel worse on top of everything else. “Kakashi, I’m just so sorry for doing this to you.”

“Damn, I’m an asshole,” the man cursed, pressing his face into the crook of his arm, shame pouring off his skin in waves. “Stop saying sorry for something you can’t help. You’ve literally never done a single thing wrong in your entire life. Just stop that.”

“Kakashi-”

“Y/N, I’m still so in love with you. I just couldn’t give up on you, even if you being with me means you’re constantly in danger of an attack like the one that happened months ago, I just can’t let you go,” he told her, exasperation heavy in his voice. He was just so tired with everything. He was tired of these emotions. It never used to be like this, long before he met her. He was cold and hard, and she turned him into the softie, perverted ninja that he was. After all this time, he was only a human like everyone else. He had these selfish desires like everyone else. “I just miss you, baby.”

She felt her heart race at the term of endearment, at the sweet words he said, at the declaration of love. Even though she didn’t know everything about him, and there were so many bits and pieces missing from her mind, she still cared about him. She still felt her heart beat just a little faster when he was around. She cared about him. After everything that happened, she still loved him.

“I need you in my life, Y/N. I know things have changed, but it’s the truth. I’ve gotten too used to you being around, I don’t know if I’d be able to do it without you.”

Yes, he was rough around the edges, everyone is. But to her, he was already perfect. She didn’t need to know everything because it didn’t matter. He was charming, thoughtful, and equal parts humorous. He made her eyes light up with joy and her knees weak. He was the type of man she could only dream of being with, and here they were, confessing their love for the second time.

“Kakashi?”

“Hm?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

She crawled up to where he sat against the wall, mask still up over his nose as usual. Carefully, with hesitation in her shaky hands, she reached to pull down the cloth. His unmasked face had appeared in her dreams on more than one occasion so it wasn’t like this was the first time he was revealing himself to her. Still, she felt like this was a moment she should savor.

She pulled down the mask, and his face was just as handsome as she imagined. She let her hands rest on his cheeks, thumbs running over his cheekbones, and he relaxed into her touch. Softly, she pressed her lips to his, and a cozy warmth filled her entire being. This is what she was missing out on. Absolutely tragic.

When she pulled away, all she could see was a dopey smile across his lips and starry eyes peering down at her. “I missed that, Y/N.”

“I missed it too,” she breathed out, so intoxicated by the kiss she could barely think. It wasn’t anything serious just a peck on the lips but to her, it meant the entire world.

Maybe she would never recover every single memory she had. Maybe things would stay the way they are. That would be okay with her, so long as they had each other to lean on. He could tell her all his stories another time, just so she could understand, but the love would always be there.

_________

A few months passed before she found herself waking up in the morning, thoughts rushing through her head quickly, heavily in her mind. Memories of her friends and family, the village, each little piece of trivia she had been missing out on consuming her thoughts. She placed a hand over her eyes and groaned, a headache pounding in the back of her skull, despite her joy that more of the holes had been filled in her mind.

Y/N leaned over onto her side, propped up on her elbow. On her bedside table lay a few pain pills and a glass of water, something she kept there regularly. The intense dreams often brought on pain in the mornings, as if she’d been drinking all night long. After a bit of the pain subsided, she would head down to her bookstore and get ready for a day's work, like usual. Just because she went through trauma did not mean she could slack off. Time is money as they say, and books would always be selling in this bustling village.

She stood from the bed and threw on one of her plain brown dresses, complete with a once baby pink apron, now stained beyond belief with things she just could not scrub out with a brush, heavy black ink and wine and coffee. Money was tight, and she wasn’t just going to go out and buy herself new clothes, when these were perfectly wearable.

As she walked around her home, she straightened her hair just enough to look decent and heated up a kettle of boiling water on the stove, a couple bags of black coffee steeping inside. The caffeine would only further remedy her headache, she sighed, pouring herself a cup for the morning.

Downstairs, her bookstore waited for her, lights off and shelves properly stocked and readied from the night before. Kakashi had been over helping her clean up and put up her latest shipment. He was more serious about alphabetical order than she was, and she found it hilarious when he would switch around two books she misplaced. She flipped on the register, turned the open sign and switched the lights on, ready for a few stray customers to walk in, usually the older people who woke up at this time of day.

Hours passed, and villagers visited one after the other, asking her for suggestions and help on where to find something that they were looking for. It was relaxing, and all the while she continued to sip her coffee, feeling her headache completely melt away.

It was around noon when she was greeted with one of her friends. That young girl Sakura who helped heal her while she was in the hospital. Y/N remembered a lot of things about her at this point down to her hopeless crush on a rogue ninja and her tiniest insecurities that she’d once confided in her. It was nice to have a girl to talk to. The village girls came by now and then, and she enjoyed their company as well, but there was something about these individualistic, unique shinobi that just drew her in.

She loved this village. It was her home, and she loved everyone within it.

“Y/N, wanna go get some lunch with me? It’ll only be an hour and it’s on me,” she asked cheerily, and Y/N couldn’t deny such a nice request. After all, having her meal paid for would probably mean more money than sitting around in her shop. She shut off the lights, flipped the sign and locked the door.

“Where do you want to go? Pick any place.”

Wow. Y/N was getting the special treatment today, it seemed. Free lunch of her choice wherever she wanted. There wasn’t a price limit either. She felt like she was on top of the world. “Wanna go get dango?”

“If that’s what you want, Y/N-chan.”

She nodded eagerly. “Yes, please. I’ve been craving something sweet. You know Kakashi isn’t the biggest fan, so we don’t go too much.”

“Of course. I’ve been craving some anmitsu myself.”

The pair walked over to the sweet dumpling store and sat around for just about an hour, as Sakura said, munching on their red bean and sugar syrup desserts, just talking about anything and everything going on. Sakura was getting closer to finding Sasuke and bringing him home, and she was honing her medical ninjutsu even more. She was quite versatile with her strength and desire to care for others. Y/N really admired the girl.

She was the other side of the coin opposed to Y/N’s moments of weakness. It wasn’t like she was jealous, she was just amazed at the sheer talent. Kakashi, Yamato, Naruto, Sakura, all so talented. It was amazing. Pride bubbled up in her chest for her friends.

“Y/N, how’s it been with Kakashi?”

The woman snapped out of her thoughts and peered back up at the pink haired kunoichi, twirling a wooden skewer in her fingers. “It’s been great. He really is a wonderful man. Intelligent, charming, romantic, helpful. Everything you could want, really.”

“I see. Well, I’m really happy you guys could work through what happened, even if you didn’t get all your memories back,” Sakura hummed happily, finishing the last bite of agar on her plate.

Y/N sighed, a dreamy smile on her face. She placed her cheek in her palm and trailed her eyes down to the table again. “I don’t think it really ever mattered whether I got my memories back or not. I’m still the girl he fell in love with and he’s the man I spent all those years chasing after. He can tell me everything over again, but really, it was our personalities that drew us together.”

Sakura smiled, feeling her heart turn to mush at the thought of such a deep love. She stood from the table and waved for Y/N to follow her. There was just one more place they had to go before she could go back to work. “Follow me. I have to show you something.”

Y/N followed as she normally did. Secretly, she liked hanging out with Sakura and skipping work. The store was tiresome and often boring when customers were few far and inbetween. It was refreshing to get lunch with a friend and waste sunlight together. She had a lot of free time anyway. Kakashi wasn’t going to be around for the next few days. He’d informed her yesterday that he had a mission for 2 days in the next village over.

And apparently, he was going with the two boys from Team Eight…

Then how come Y/N just saw them walking down the street with that Hyuga girl?

Plans must have changed, Y/N thought to herself. Maybe he went with some other chunin for this one, she decided and continued to follow her friend through the streets of the village. They passed by store after store and walked through alleyways on the way to wherever they were going.

Sakura walked slowly enough that Y/N could keep up. Some tendons never healed themselves, and she walked with a sort of limp, but nothing hurt. With all this walking, Y/N was suspecting that Sakura must have something big to show her. They eventually ended up walking through the woods a bit to end up at the training grounds, the one with the huge waterfall that crashed loudly in her ears.

Birds were chirping and bees buzzed around by her feet. She turned around to see Sakura standing there with her hands clasped in front of her, just a tiny bit of red dusting her cheeks. “Sakura, what did you want to show me?”

“Y/N.” A voice called from behind, and she turned back to the waterfall to see Kakashi walking up with his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Her brows raised and her head fell to the side in confusion.

“Kakashi, I thought you were supposed to be on a mission. I-I saw those two boys walking around the village and thought you went with someone else.”

“I kinda lied about the mission. I just needed to prepare something.”

“Ah, okay. So what is this about?”

He stood in front of her now, merely a couple feet away. “I know that these past few months have been really hard for you,” he began, taking a second to think of the next words he was about to say. Y/N could only stare up at him in wonder. This entire situation was out of the ordinary for sure. “I didn’t think we could work through our issues, and I didn’t know if it was right for us to even be together knowing what my curse had done to you.��

“Kakashi, it’s okay.”

“Y/N, these past few years have been some of the best of my entire life. I never thought that I would be able to find comfort in someone as beautiful and kind as you. I thought I was destined to be alone forever because of the things I had done. But then I found you.”

He pulled one of his hands from his pocket, and held out a little brown bag to her, urging for her to take it.

When she opened the pouch and tipped it into her hand, a shiny ring fell into her soft palm. She felt her heartbeat race in her chest, and she pressed her free hand to her chest to steady herself. “Kakashi...”

He shifted his weight onto one foot, his lips cracking into the smallest of smiles.

“What do you say? You and me, making memories for the rest of our lives? Ones you'll always remember?” he asked softly, staring down at the woman he had come to love more than anything else in this entire world.

She lifted her hand from her chest to take the ring and slide it on her finger, staring at it on her hand and watching the gemstone glimmer and change color with the sunlight. It was so gorgeous and bright, it shined like the sun sat on her finger. The thought of Kakashi picking this out for her made the ring even prettier.

It was perfect. Everything was perfect.

Tears filled her eyes at his words, and she could only nod, no words coming to her head that made any sense. All she could feel was love burning through her body and happiness threatening to overflow. She threw her arms around his neck and threw herself against him, laughter sounding from her lips. He wrapped her up in his arms and let her cry into his shoulder, sobs and giggles mixing together.

Yeah, maybe he had to wait a few more months than he wanted to, but that never mattered; they had all the time in the world.

Their love was special. Their love was golden.

#kakashi x reader #kakashi hatake x reader #kakashi one shot #kakashi imagine #naruto one shot #naruto x reader #naruto imagine #kakashi #naruto #did i cry obsessively while writing this?#absolutely #i might do a prequel at some point idek #im so distraught #asked my boyfriend what naruto character i was most like and he honestly said orochimaru...#smh

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jujutsubabe · 3 years

Text

Library

Synopsis: (This is set when Gojo and Getou were in highschool) You are all in the library trying to practice presentations but Gojo can’t stop being distracting.

(I mean,,, no ship tbh? Kinda platonic reader insert but u can take it as Gojo flirting)

Word count: 1.7k

—————

A library is supposed to be silent, filled with studying and well focused people. It’s a place meant for peace and quiet, so everyone there can get a good grasp on their subjects without any distractions.

The library is known for being the best place to work in, you are surrounded by peers and books and computers of all kind. The amount of resources is unlimited, mixing alone and social time all into one setting, a beautiful design.

However, if you mix a quiet respectable place with three idiots, you tend to get the opposite of what a library is supposed to be.

The library was filled with your quiet snorts and giggles as you sat in the back of the room, you putting your hand over your mouth did nothing to silence you as you shook.

Gojo bit down on his lip as he tried to contain his laugh as well, waiting for the right timing to say another dumb joke.

You felt the stares of a few of your peers, but couldn’t help from giggling in your corner. It was one of those rare moments where you felt air escape your lungs in a good way, the crunching of your sides was a ticklish feeling. It was so carefree and fun, a simple memory you would keep every time you entered a library.

You turned to Gojo at the same time as him, trying to put on a serious face but when you saw his struggling one you couldn’t help but crack a huge smile and fall back into your lap cackling. He turned away snickering to his side as well.

You had been here for what felt like hours, you trying to go over your presentation but barely getting through the first slide with how Gojo suddenly wanted to be a comedian. Not letting you catch a break each slide.

It didn’t help that you were already behind in your presentation, he just fed into your procrastination. Making this workload ease into other hours of your day, it seemed like the only thing you could do for the day was work on this presentation.

Getou rested his chin on his hand, “You egg him on when you do that.”

“I know!” You wheezed, “But its so—so hard, I can’t focus.”

Gojo leaned in to whisper something else but Getou tilted his head, “Satoru, you’re a distraction.”

He pulled back, fixing his sunglasses with a wide grin. The class clown couldn’t help but make light of such a boring atmosphere, what was he even supposed to do in here? (Study Gojo… study…)

Picking on you two was way more fun than doing his fifty-billion already missing assignments.

“What?” He looked over his glasses, “It’s not my fault I’m this funny.”

“No, he’s right!” You took deep breaths, pulling into your center, “He’s right, let me try again and don’t distract me!” You pointed with a warning intent.

He grinned at you, playing on his innocent expression, which didn’t come across as very genuine.

It was like he called for attention to himself just by entering a room. No one could ignore him. So imagine how much harder it would be to ignore him if this giant ray of sunshine was sitting right next to you, pestering you every second.

“So,” you skimmed over your notes, “for this presentation, I wanted to research how the possible extinction of polar bears is such a condenen— conquential—conquista-- conse-”

“Are you trying to say consequential?” Geto asked.

There was a slight moment of silence, maybe half a second before, like a burst of a bubble, Gojo snorted and turned his head to the side giggling away. It didn’t help that his laugh was so contagious. It was like a yawn, when one person did it everyone else did.

Geto looked away, covering the slight curl of his mouth. He tried his best to be the mature one in the group but sometimes Gojo broke down that expectation with something as simple as giggling like a child.

Him trying to not smile mixed with Gojo’s actual laugh made it so much harder to not give in yourself. These two really couldn’t stop goofing around, no matter the situation.

You forced a frown, “Guys, It’s not funny!”

Gojo made a look at Getou, and Getou let out the lightest huff of air before shaking his head. “You’re right. Continue.”

“Thank you,” you cleared your throat, getting your notes in order, “I think it’s important to note that a big factor that could lead to their extinction are greenhouse gas em… emm...emnio—”

You squinted at the page, pulling it closer, you ignored Gojo’s pestering smile beside you. If you even looked at him you knew this would be all bad, he had a way of pulling you from work and not letting you get back to it.

Getou tapped the paper, “What’s wrong?”

You slid the paper to him, “I don’t know how to say that.”

He pulled the paper to his face with a slight frown. He blinked a few times, trying to not let confusion seep onto his face. With a little bit of inspecting, he eventually slipped the paper across for Gojo to help.

Gojo blinked back at the paper, a smile curling onto his face, “Is this your handwriting…?”

Getou hid his face while Gojo’s smile widened into a grin, then a chuckle, then a full on laugh, the both of them snickering onto themselves. You rolled your eyes, as Gojo banged his hand on the table like he saw the funniest thing on the damn planet.

These two were rolling over themselves over your sleep filled handwriting! It wasn’t even that funny!

You scoffed as the two went into hysterics over your handwriting, trying to fight off the smile crawling it’s way onto your face. It took so much to not give in.

It was all fun and games until a few students started to share a few looks from across the room. A few glared your direction, some actually leaving the place for a quieter place to study. No one seemed to enjoy your table's joy the same way you all were.

The three of you were being a nuisance to the quiet work environment, contradicting the point of a library with your presence. But why was laughing in the library more fun than laughing in your room with each other?

Was it the concept of breaking the rules that tickled you? Or maybe it was the hysteria of working on something for too long without breaks, forcing you all into taking a different kind of break.

None of you noticed when a select few students got up to talk to the teachers about you three. Whispering to the side and pointing a teacher your direction.

Your head popped up when you heard the light tapping of heels and keychains coming your direction. A more than pissed off adult looking straight towards your table.

You shook Gojo and grabbed his arm, “Dude shut up! Shut up the teachers coming!”

Before you could grab yourselves together, the teacher already arrived by your table, tapping on the desk until she got your attention. “I’m going to need you all to quiet down or leave. You’re being a distraction.”

Gojo quirked a brow, opening his mouth, but you spoke up before he said something disrespectful.

“Sorry.” You nudged the guy next to you, “We’ll be more quiet.”

She pursed her lips as she did a once over of you all, definitely memorizing your faces. You lot were making this poor lady do more than needed on her shift. She probably couldn’t wait until you guys messed up again so she could kick you out for good.

“Thank you.” She did a last sharp look before she eventually turned, walking away to the front desk again. Full hawk eyes on your table.

You turned around to the group, trying to regain composure. It was so awkward having her stare and know that you had to be on your best behavior. Everyone sat silently, no one even moving.

Until Gojo leaned back in his seat, twisting his head to look at you. You tried your best to not look at him…you could literally feel his stare through your head. He was insufferable.

…However, you couldn’t help the curiosity and slowly turned your head to meet his eyes. Just one look and his face flooded into a winced grin, already trying to hold back laughter with a squeaking sound from him.

With that, your composure broke and you released a set of giggles while Getou covered his mouth. Just like that Gojo won, he ate this attention up, releasing his own dumb fit of laughter.

You guys really couldn’t go a minute in silence could you?

Getou smiled and stood from the table, “Were not getting anything done. Let’s get food.”

You nodded, you were surprised it took this long for someone to realize that. This was a highly anticipated break you put off for too long, not realizing just how much time was wasted goofing off until now.

“I want ice cream!” Gojo slung your bag over his shoulder.

You blinked between the two as they gathered their belongings, starting to disperse from the table. You were still getting yourself together, scrambling with your things as the tall pair strided to the exit. “Guys wait up!”

They very much did not wait up, if anything it seemed as though their pace got quicker. (Gojo even looked back before grinning that sinister smile of his and walking faster.)

When you darted out of the seat, you just so happened to glance back at the table.

It had a few balled up sheets of paper under it, (that Gojo made and threw at the both of you) the chair’s weren’t pushed in, and if you looked closely you could see a few doodles sprawled along it.

For some reason, the table setting that would definitely piss off that teacher, made you smile. It showed proof that you and your friends had been there, that a few teens were messing around and having fun before they left.

Which you did, you made a good memory today. Those small moments of laughing at dust with friends, warmth from being so happy, comfort from having a tight bond.

It was all you needed, and all you wanted to remember anyways.

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yunhowhoitiss · 3 years

Text

𝐜𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐮𝐦

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭!𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐡𝐨 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐚!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 (𝐟𝐞𝐦)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.5k+

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fluff, fantasy au (?), slow burn, angst if you squint, ft co-worker jongho :)

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: You’re finally starting to make ends meet when you start working at your school’s local café, but the world is so full of surprises.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: reader panics a bit(?)

𝐚/𝐧: I came up with this at 4am a couple days ago so it’s not my proudest, but I felt bad just letting it sit in my drafts so here you go :) enjoy!

masterlist

The gentle smell of freshly baked pastries, accompanied by the stronger aroma of ground coffee beans, wafted through the comfy café. There was a constant chatter as customers scattered around the joint whilst waiting, disguising the soft hum coming from behind the coffee machine. Your face was out of sight, except your hair peeked out above the espresso machine where you were pouring a latté, entertaining yourself by decorating a small heart in the foam. A smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your eyes turned to soft crescents when soft wisps of your hair had fallen out of your bun and across the sides of your forehead. The steam floating from the cup caressed your hands as you picked up the mug along with an assortment of macaroons.

“Order for Julie: four macaroons, a chai latté, and an espresso affogato, extra dry!” You announced through the coffee shop, turning a few heads.

You made your way back to the station to continue other orders but stopped as you noticed something missing; you had run out of cinnamon to top off drinks. Your coworker ought to know where another carton would be, so you turned towards the kitchen to find him wrist-deep in bread dough.

“Jongho, where are the extra containers of cinnamon again?”

“Oh, those are in the grey cabinet below the pastry display,” he smiled back, all the while kneading the dough.

Flashing him an ‘ok’ sign, you headed back to the front of the shop. You hadn’t been working at the Crescent Café very long, but you happened to be a pretty fast learner, according to Jongho; you could make latte art before other trainees could even make a latte. Quickly getting back to work, you served a customer until something caught you eye whilst jotting down an order on your notepad; had the writing been on your wrist all day? It must just be something I wrote down earlier, you thought.

As the sun made its way towards the horizon, you returned to the comfort of your small apartment to freshen up, eat dinner, and momentarily forget your academic responsibilities— homework, ugh-- before heading to school again the next day. You entered you apartment with a relived sigh and threw your keys onto a nearby dresser, mumbling "I'm home" to nobody in particular. Too lazy to go to your room, you simply undressed as you walked towards the bathroom, leaving a trail of clothing behind you. Note to self: clean that up later.

The moment you stepped into the shower, your shoulders loosened as the hot water washed away your tension. The writing on your wrist caught your eye again. Scrutinizing the messy handwriting, you saw what seemed to be a shopping list.

“Eggs, lucky charms, and aftershave,” you read aloud.

Aftershave? I don’t use that. Could it be… you were lost thought, not noticing the warm steam filling the bathroom. You rubbed at your soapy skin frantically in an attempt to wash off the pen, to no avail. Lately, although rarely, you’d started to notice small bruises or random marks on your skin; you’d never seen writing, though. You briefly wondered if there was possibly another person causing this, but you only saw such things in movies or books... right?

Your heart rate started to pick up, and a heavy sensation built up in your chest. It isn’t possible, it can’t be. The cramped space of your shower started to feel suffocating. Nearly slipping, you jumped out of the shower and dried yourself off. You got dressed in whatever shirt and sweats you found hanging around your bedroom. Was something wrong with you? Am I imagining things? I’m not going crazy, right? Worrisome thoughts flooded your mind as you spiralled deeper into a panic. Calm down. Don’t skip to conclusions. You threw yourself onto the bed. In and out. It’s that simple, you consoled yourself. Slowly but surely, you felt your heart come to a rest.

When you lifted your hand up above your head the writing was still there, unchanged. So you weren’t losing your mind. Could somebody else be the cause of this? Was someone else somehow writing on your skin? No, you felt stupid for even considering the thought; otherworldly things like that only happened in comics or movies. Nevertheless, it was the only possibility that made sense to you in the moment. You let your curiosity get the best of you, and paced towards the living room to grab a pen off the coffee table. On your right hand, you simply wrote "Hi," in hopes of eliciting some sort of response.

The following day proved to be a rather sunny, warm Monday, but you had to spend your time in a closed lecture hall. The cold-toned ceiling lights were much too bright for your liking, and the monotonous professor spouted information maybe only a handful of people were genuinely listening to. That morning, you had woken up to find the list on your wrist gone, leaving only your own message from the night before. You started to think you'd really had a hallucination of some sort.

Half an hour into the lecture, you were already bored out of your mind and absentmindedly sketching intricate doodles on your notebook. I should just give up on biochemistry and become an artist, you mused to yourself. You remained focused on your art, while marks started to take shape on the back of your hand. Your soft eyes widened almost comically at the sight, and you shot a brief look to the people around you to make sure they hadn’t seen anything. Whipping your head back to your hand, you saw that the words stopped writing themselves, leaving a short message saying “Am I going nuts?”

Wondering the same thing yourself, you jotted down a response below it: “I dunno, you tell me,” followed by a cheeky smiley face. If this really was real, you might as well make a good first impression.

Weeks trickled into months as you made short exchanges with your newly discovered friend. Some nights you would write “good night” followed by a drawn heart, earning a sweet “sleep well” in return. You would frequently wake up to thoughtful words written on the palm of your hand, or you'd kindly ask your companion how they were doing when you had a quiet day at work. Even so, all you had learned about this person was their name, age, and that they were a student as well. Yunho was a twenty-one-year-old elementary education major with a minor in physiology-- he also worked as a dance teacher on weekends. You still didn’t know much about each other, so the messages never went further than greetings and simple conversations.

Be that as it may, you liked it like that. Your relationship wasn’t complex; it felt comfortable and pure, and you didn’t want to change it.

Mellow spring afternoons at the café had always been your favourite. The wispy clouds in the sky were painted a buttery yellow by the slowly setting sun, and a steady stream of nearby students stopped by for coffee. Your new friend had sweetly noted "It's golden hour. Made me think of you," on your palm, leaving you in a bubbly mood. You had started your shift by drawing a heart on your wrist, hoping your secret companion would see it.

You worked by the espresso machine as usual, humming to yourself as always. The bell rang, indicating that customers had arrived; it was a group of what seemed to be three guys and a girl.

“We’ll be right with you!” you called. You turned towards the kitchen. “Jongho, can you take their orders?” Silence. “Pretty please? I need to clean up my station.” you persisted.

“Fine, yeah,” you heard your colleague grumble.

As you tidied up behind the machine, you felt as though someone was watching you from the counter. You lifted your head curiously, meeting a pair of inquisitive doe eyes coloured a soft hazelnut brown. The warm eyes instantly turned into friendly half-moons as the boy smiled shyly upon being caught staring. You hurried back to cleaning up your station, hoping to hide the pink tint of your cheeks, but the red shade consuming your ears gave you away.

Jongho handed you the cups for their orders and walked over to the pastry display. You got started on a hot chocolate and three iced americanos, getting back into your “barista brain,” as you liked to call it. After finishing the drinks, you called out "Three iced americanos, a hot chocolate, and two blueberry muffins!”

You turned around to grab straws, and you overheard one of the guys say “I’ll grab ‘em, you guys can stay here.” You made your way back to the counter, looking up only to be met with the boy from earlier. Butterflies littered your stomach, fluttering up into your chest. “Oh, um, here are some straws,” you smiled gingerly.

“Thanks. Could I please get a sleeve as well?” he asked, “For my hot chocolate.”

“Of course!”

As you handed him the cardboard sleeve, his hands caught your eye. Not only were they the most beautiful hands you'd ever laid eyes on, but the boy had a heart drawn on the valley of skin between his left thumb and wrist, exactly where you had drawn one on your own hand just a while earlier. He seemed to recognize the message on your palm as well; a confused expression ghosted over his face. Gathering all your courage, you nodded towards his hand and did your best to form a coherent sentence. “That’s—”

“Your heart,” he interrupted, “Right?”

You giggled softly in response, barely containing your excitement.

“Right,” you smiled down at your feet in an attempt to hide the bashful grin that pulled at your lips. A hand popped up in front of you.

“Nice to meet you, y/n. My name’s Yunho-- Oh, but you know that already, don’t you?” Yunho chuckled sheepishly. You looked up and slipped your hand into his, shaking it gently. His hands were warm, fingertips ever so soft.

“Nice to meet you too.”

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reki-of-the-valley · 3 years

Text

Boy Like a Fading Dream

A part two of the uni AU? More like a "I wanted to characterize the Langa of this AU". Wrote it a couple of days ago but didn't want to back-to-back post, just give a few days for the first part to settle in.

Find it on AO3 here!

Context: For his skills on a snowboard, Langa landed himself a scholarship. But he hates it. He hates his studies. He hates the athletic training. He just wants to go back to the time when it was fun, racing his dad to the bottom of the mountain.

“Where’s dad?”

Langa lets his bag hit the ground with a thud as he kicks off his shoes. His mother is in the living room; she’s cutting carrots in front of some sitcom. She lifts her head to smile at her son as soon as he enters her line of sight.

“How was your day, baby?”

Langa sighs as he crashes next to her. He feels her watch him as he picks up a carrot from the bowl before snapping it in half between his teeth. He feels her gaze, just as heavy as his eyelids are.

“Tiring.”

It’s all he manages to say to her. It’s all he finds to say. Tiring. His days are always just tiring.

“Did you have fun at practice?”

Fun? Langa barely remembers what that feels like. Fun, it feels like a foreign word now. He knows he must have felt it in the past, the thrill of gliding down the snowy slopes, but now it’s anything but fun. Snowboarding isn’t fun anymore, especially when there’s no snow outside. Especially when he’s cooped up in a gym rather than out on the open mountains.

So was training fun? No. No, it wasn’t.

“It was fine,” he lies. He can’t tell his mother how much he hates it. He can’t tell her when it’s what’s paying for his education – an education he also hates. “The usual, you know.”

Nanako pats his arm, her smile sweet and ever so motherly. “That’s good, baby. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.”

Langa sucks in a breath as his mother presses a kiss to his hair. I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. If only she knew how big a lie that was. He would have done anything to just quit everything right now and lay in bed for the next ten years. Everything lost its appeal. If only everything could stop just for a moment, just for a minute, just enough time for Langa to catch his breath.

“Dad’s not home yet, is he?”

Nanako shakes her head. “He’s staying late tonight. He has a project that’s due, I think, tomorrow? Something about his team not being up-to-date so he has to stay late.”

Langa sighs again as he straightens out on the couch. He grabs another carrot before getting up to fetch his bag.

“I have to go study.”

Nanako doesn’t say anything as he leaves to climb the stairs that lead to his bedroom. Langa knows she’s watching him, watching his every move, but she doesn’t say anything. Maybe she can sense his disappointment. Maybe she knows that he’s lying to her.

Langa crashes in his bed, slinging his bag at the end of his mattress where it bounced before falling among the pile of dirty clothes he’s thrown aside. His room is a mess, but he can’t bring himself to clear out his trash. He’s already in a deficit of energy when just doing his mundane daily tasks. So he crashes among his pillows and pulls out his phone.

It's automatic, the swiping left and clicking on the app. It’s become a routine, crashing in bed and opening Instagram to scroll mindlessly. Langa doesn’t actually care for what’s on his screen, he just needs something to do, something to make him forget about the emptiness that’s formed in his chest.

So he scrolls. Pictures of old friends from high school, professional pictures and reels of snowboarders, screenshots of old Tumblr posts, reels of animals being cute, Langa scrolls through them all. He scrolls, scrolls until everything on his phone becomes a big blur. He scrolls until his phone slips from his fingers, falling flat on his face.

Another sigh as he turns to his side. His phone rests against his pillow as he goes back to scrolling. Always scrolling, numbing everything he’s ever felt. Because Langa does feel. He feels a million things, but none of those feelings are good. Frustration, loneliness, exhaustion, the list can go on. He hates all his feelings, especially that hollow feeling of disappointment that has been growing over the past year or so.

A notification pulls Langa out of his mindless scrolling. He usually ignores them, swiping them away, but for some reason, this one catches his attention. For some reason, he clicks it rather than get rid of it. The flash of red catches his attention.

.MechanicStarReki. – Suggested for you

Langa squints at his screen. The name doesn’t ring a bell but the face seems familiar. Familiar, but he can’t pinpoint where exactly it is that he’s seen it. His memory of the familiar face is hazy, like that of a dream starting to fade as morning takes shape. Familiar yet so foreign.

Langa scrolls through the profile, careful to not make his presence known. Most of the captions are in Japanese and he can’t find it in himself to decipher their meaning. He knows with a little effort, and maybe a little help from a translator app or from his mother, he could read the words, but he doesn’t bother. He contents himself with the scarce English. He contents himself with the many pictures of a boy with red hair.

The last post dates back a few weeks, a set of pictures with the caption “See you for Christmas.” The pictures show the redhead hugging who Langa assumes to be his sisters. They all look too much alike for them to not be family. Langa swipes between the pictures, taking in the scene: two school-aged girls cling to the boy, identical in all ways except the color of their dresses. He’s hugging them, a wide grin stretching across his face. Langa swipes again. Another girl is shown in the picture – she must be around 15. She’s pouting, but the sun reflects against the tears that had started to form at the corner of her eyes as she hugs the boy. Her eyes are the same color as his, a deep amber color that Langa knows he’s seen somewhere. He knows he's seen the boy, but he also knows it’s impossible. He can’t have seen him, not with the location associated with the picture: Okinawa, Japan. There’s no way he’s ever seen this boy; Langa’s only been to Japan once, the summer before he started high school.

Langa moves on from the set of pictures. He scrolls down, analyzing everything that has been posted over the years. Skateboards, sketches of various types, doodles, the boy with his friends, more of his family. Langa always pauses on the pictures of him. He always squints at him as if that would help him remember where he’s seen him.

A part of Langa knows that this is obsessive behavior, that he should just let it go, but he needs to know. He needs to know where he’s seen those faded freckles against sun-kissed skin. He needs to know where he’s seen those bright amber eyes. He needs to know where he’s seen that lopsided grin. He needs to know where he’s seen this boy, this boy that feels like a fading dream.

Does he resemble an actor from one of his mother’s shows, the Japanese ones she puts on while she cooks? No, that’s not it. He’s too young to look like any of those actors. Anyway, Langa never pays attention to the actors on the screen; he only knows the story because his mother has been following the ridiculous drama for years now. So the boy doesn’t just look like someone Langa might have seen on tv.

Does he look like an athlete Langa’s watched perform time after time, desperately trying to analyze his technique in hopes of recreating whatever is being done? No, it isn’t that either. Langa never recognizes the athletes, even when they tell him they've been competing against each other for years. He remembers their boards, but never their faces. So it isn’t that.

No matter how much Langa rakes his brain, he can’t find where it is that he’s seen the grin, the bright eyes, the freckles. Maybe the boy really is a figment of his imagination, a face given to a faceless dream that comes back every so often. Maybe he’s caught a glance of someone who looks like him in the street, or maybe it’s just a mere coincidence that the boy Langa’s made up looks like him, a mixture of a bunch of features that gave someone real. Or maybe Langa is delusional from his lack of sleep.

Langa drops his phone as his door is pushed open. He knows his mother knocked, but when he gets lost in his own little world, nothing else exists. Nothing exists until his bubble bursts.

“Langa sweetheart?” Nanako is standing in the doorway. She's looking at him, a slight frown pulling at the corners of her mouth. Her usual worry is evident in her features. “Is everything alright?”

Langa shifts, pushing his legs off of his bed to sit up. He nods at his mother, his words failing him. He hates how he finds himself unable to speak.

“Are you sure?” She shifts her weight to the side. Worry. “I’ve been calling you to set the table for the past 10 minutes now.”

Langa blinks at his mother before apologizing. He hadn’t heard her, he says. He had gotten lost in his own little world. He’s sorry, he’ll be down in a minute to set the table.

“Langa.” Nanako’s voice pierces through him as he fishes his phone out from under his pillow. “Are you sure nothing’s bothering you?”

Langa almost cracks. He almost tells her. He almost admits that he hates everything he’s doing. He almost admits that he hates going to school. He almost admits that he hates training. He almost admits that the thing he hates most is himself. Almost, but he doesn’t. He wouldn’t be able to survive the disappointed look on his mother’s face. He knows she would understand, that she’d tell him he’s allowed to quit, that she would support him no matter what, but he also knows she would be disappointed.

So he just smiles at her, that closed-mouthed smile he’s been practicing for years.

“I’m just tired.”

Nanako nods before making her way to him. She holds him tightly against herself, the warm embrace of a mother. And for a moment, Langa doesn’t hate himself.

“If you’re tired, I can bring your food up. You don’t have to eat downstairs if it’s too much.”

Langa shakes his head. Dinnertime is the only time of the day where he can spend time with his parents. Between classes and training, he’s barely ever home. It’s the only time where things feel normal, like they were back in the day when Langa was young, doing homework at the kitchen table while his mother cooked, explaining to him what he had to do. It’s the only time where he feels like they’re a family again.

“Just give me a minute and I’ll be down.”

Nanako sighs as she steps away from him, nodding. A small, tired smile pulls at the corner of her mouth as she turns back to him, halfway through the door.

“You promise you’d tell me if something was bothering you?”

Langa nods, promising, but the promise is hollow, his fingers crossed behind his back. It’s broken before even being uttered because Langa knows that he can’t make that promise. There’s just no way that he can promise such a thing. He can’t bring himself to tell anyone about how he feels. But still, he smiles and nods at his mother as she makes her way out of his room, down the stairs, back to the kitchen. He smiles until he can’t bear it anymore and crystal tears fall from his eyes, fall right onto the picture of the grinning boy in his phone, the phone he's been gripping so tightly.

#oh yeah Oliver is alive for this one #Given that I want to make Langa miserable I had to give him back one happy thing #and his dad seemed like a good thing to give back #And without a dead dad he can stay in Canada #Sorry for the lack of concrete Renga #Given that I like this AU but don't actually have a plot for it it'll be a bunch of snippets #and snippets means that there will eventually be concrete renga content #but I had to establish this 'background' first #Also it's 2021 all the kids are miserable in one way or another because I'm mean and have been feeling like shit lately #I really hate the titles of these but I don't have the energy to think of something good #renga #snowgear #lanreki #langa x reki #reki x langa #langa hasegawa #langa #hasegawa langa #reki #kyan reki #reki kyan #nanako hasegawa #hasegawa nanako #sk8 #sk8 the infinity #lils writes

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itskatastrophe-x · 3 years

Text

Far Off Places (CH 4)

Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5

Word Count : 3,919

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

When you walk back into the den, Ranboo is writing viscously. You want to ask what he’s writing about or if you could read anything, but decide against it and instead head to the kitchen to make something to eat. The analog clock on your wall reads 12:48. Too late for breakfast, so you pull out some fish, carrots, and broth to make some soup. You hoped that Ranboo would be ok with whatever you made so that maybe he might join you for lunch. You started preparing the fish first and then brought the broth to simmer. Just as you were going to check on Ranboo, he came through the door and he let off a soft grunt as you bumped into him. You gasp in shock and look up at him and laugh. He looks around at the half prepared meal and smiles. “Do you need any help?” He looks back down at you and you shrug. “It’s honestly almost done. All that needs to happen is to dice the carrots and put everything in the broth to boil.” He nods and makes his way to the counter where the carrots are drying and begins to cut them up. You thank him quietly as you dump the fish into the bubbling pot and he hums a happy response back.

You both sit down to eat and chat idly through mouthfuls of warm stew. He talks more about his life living with Phil and Techno, as well as his platonic husband and adopted child. He talks more about the latter, smiling all the while, and you could feel the love and enthusiasm practically radiating off of him with every word he spoke. He told you stories of his kids first moments that he could recall, the journey to the house, and even flipped to a page in a journal where he had hastily drawn a doodle of him in the margin. Michael and Tubbo. The three of them sounded the most trustworthy out of any of them here, and you came to find out that they were some of the youngest people living here.

After lunch was finished, you took to the kitchen to clean and offered to let Ranboo stay for as long as he liked, which he respectfully declined, saying he had things to take care of in Snowchester. You said goodbye from your place at the sink and he turned and left your house, only to come back minutes later to knock on your door and let himself in again. “Did you want to go with me?” You looked at him with a puzzled expression as you set the last dry dish in the cupboard. “What, to Snowchester?” He nodded, an air of caution surrounding him. “If you trust me enough to, I would love to. I haven’t seen anything outside of this house and the surrounding land. It would be good to get out.” He nodded happily and patiently waited as you went to your room to pack a light bag and attach your weapons and fresh armor. When you came back downstairs he was idly messing with the strap of his own bag, completely spaced out.

“So,” you started quietly, snapping him back to reality. “What will I say to anyone we see along the way? No one knows who I am and I doubt they’ll accept a stranger so willingly.” He smiles at you and looks at the clock, as well as flips to a page in his book. “Well, most people will be out doing their own things today at this time. The trip should only take us a little while and not many people live in Snowchester. Foolish has been working on our mansion there but he’s really sweet and accepting. Other than that, we just have to avoid Bad and Ant. They’re with The Egg and we don’t need any of that kind of interaction.” You nod and fasten a buckle on your boots and follow him out the door, turning to lock it, then back to catch up to Ranboo. Curse his long legs.

You both didn’t say much on the journey there. You were mainly amazed by all the sights and buildings. You had to travel through the nether at one point, which he gave you a gold helmet so as not to be attacked. He fought off any of the mobs that neared you so you didn’t make them angry, and also since he had the best armor and weapons. The cobble highway was a sight to behold, you thought. They told you about it the previous day, but you were not expecting this much cobble and obsidian. From the portal you came out of, it looked like a maze with paths leading in all directions. Off in the distance you could see a large structure, to which Ranboo said was the main portal that led directly to DreamSMP. You weren’t sure what kind of name that was for the land but he said it had been that way since before he even arrived. When you went through the portal, you were in shock by your surroundings as they blurred in and out. The teleportation affects made you dizzy and nauseous, something you were sure you would never get used to.

Ranboo took you past what he called the community house. He said it was one of the first buildings to ever exist on this land. He quickly gave you a summary of George and who he was, but said it would be rare to ever see him, seeing as he was almost always sleeping. You travelled on, only passing one person on the way. They didn’t say anything, but waved from their spot under a small dirt covering. You smiled and waved back and turned to Ranboo. “Who is that?” Ranboo hummed and turned to where you mentioned but gave you a confused look. You turned back to where someone had previously been just seconds before, only to find the small space completely empty. “I swear someone was just there,” you muttered. Ranboo only shrugged and turned on his heels to continue on, you following closely behind.

You both neared a long tunnel full of water, gates holding it back from spilling out. Ranboo stopped a few feet away, rolled up his sleeve, and tapped a small gem on his arm that would have gone completely unnoticed if he hadn’t brought attention to it, seeing as it was so small. A virtual screen popped up and you gasped in shock. He looked at you as you stared at the screen and tried to tap it, your hand phasing through it completely. “What is it?” He dropped his arm and the screen disappeared. “Don’t you have one?” You stood there in shock and looked down at your own arm, nervous to pull back your sleeve. Eventually you did, but saw nothing. Ranboo extended his hands, asking permission to touch your arm, and you held it out for him as he inspected it closely. He asked to see your other arm, so you rolled back the sleeve and he looked at that one as well. He smiled up at you and took your other hand, extending your pointer finger, and tapped a spot on your wrist just under your thumb. You felt a small bump there and rubbed gently as Ranboo took back his hands. A screen popped from where the bump was and you put your free hand to your mouth.

“What is it,” you ask again, staring at the translucent, light grey panels in front of you. “How did I never notice this before?” He chuckles at you and brings his back up. You put yours next to his, noticing that his boxes were full of little icons. “We call it the inventory. We don’t really know how it works, but it stores extra items you can’t carry in a normal bag.” He taps one of his icons and the screen fades away as a box fizzles into reality and drops into his open hands. He sets it down in front of him, purple sparkles dancing around it in a flurry. He opens it and scans another screen until he finds what he wants, clicks it, and a trident appears in front of him. He grabs it and hands it to you, clicks on another one to make it appear, then grabs the box and opens his inventory to put it away. It blurs out of vision and you watch as the little icon reappears on the box it was previously on. “These tridents have what’s called ‘riptide’. We’re going to go into this water and activate them to cross to the other side as fast as possible.” You looked down at the heavy weapon in your hand and stood it up next to you. It was tall and cold and gave off an iridescent glow, signifying that it was in fact enchanted.

Ranboo opened the gates, took a big breath, and stepped into the water. The trident in his hands caused the water to pulsate around it, casting a dim glow on the liquid around him. He motioned for you to get in as well, and you did. You shut the gate and watched as he activated the enchantment. He looked at you and motioned with his free hand to follow him, and just like that, he was gone. The jolt caused the water to rush around you violently and you had to put your hand against the glass to steady yourself. You looked at the trident and imagined what he had just done, and the trident reacted, lighting up the water and causing your hand to tingle. You positioned it in front of you the way Ranboo had done himself, and it flung you forward at an alarming speed. You used your opposite arm to shield your eyes, and when you slowed down and uncovered them, you were at the end of the tunnel. You swam the short distance to the exit and let out your breath, gasping in oxygen and hunching over. Ranboo closed the gates behind you as you shook out your hair and leaned your weight against the trident that acted as a staff.

When you finally caught your breath you looked up to see Ranboo covering his mouth, trying to hold back his laughter. “What?” That sent him, and he burst into full laughter. It was contagious and you couldn’t help but also laugh, though you were still unsure what had caused the fit in the first place. Ranboo calmed himself and smiled at you. “The look on your face was priceless,” he said in between gasps. “It’s always funny to watch people’s reactions the first time they use the loop. Just wait until we go back. It’s even faster that way!” You stare at him in shock, and he giggles more. “Come on,” he says as he turns and waves at you, his tail swishing side to side as he walks with a pep in his step.

You walk the rest of the short distance in comfortable silence until you hear a small rumbling and the sound of wood being put in place. It didn’t take very long until your eyes landed on possibly the biggest mansion you had ever seen. The largest building you had seen was your castle and this mansion in front of you had to easily be almost as big as it. Ranboo called out to someone out of sight and you followed him forward and into the mansion. There was a glass chandelier high above your heads and a grand staircase in front of you, the railing carved with excruciating detail. “How long has this been going on?” Ranboo ran his hand along the railing and smiled. “Three weeks almost. I think he might take a break here soon, though.” Ranboo called out again and finally got a response. An excited sounding voice called back to him from somewhere farther back. You followed Ranboo through the main hall behind the staircase to a door in the back, a strange statue displayed through the open doorway. You saw a shimmer of gold that looked like it was almost moving, and as you got closer you noticed that it was in fact moving. You came through the door and squinted, your hand coming up to protect your eyes from the harsh midday sun. Your jaw dropped and you stood there in awe.

There, standing next to a very tall, poorly depicted Ranboo, was a man. A man dressed in gold robes and chains, rubies glinting in the sun from a large necklace, and what looked to be a shark helmet over his head. He looked down at you both and you couldn’t help but gasp at his shining emerald eyes. “Ranboo,” he boomed, a large smile spreading across his face. He turned to face you fully now, his jewelry and chains jingling as he took a step and squatted in front of you both. “Ranboo you didn’t tell me we would be having guests! I would’ve gotten out the fancy silverware!” He laughs at his own joke and you can’t help but to giggle.

Right before your eyes, you watch as he shrinks in size slowly, until he’s roughly the same height as Ranboo. He looks very much more human now than he did before and he extends his hand out to you. He beams at you as you place your hand in his and he tugs and pulls you into a short hug, then releases you again. “My name is Foolish! Well, it isn’t really, but that’s what everyone calls me! Sorry if I gave you any kind of spook. I’m part demi-god. Part totem of undying, part shark god. So I guess I would just be a regular god. Anyway,” he cuts himself off with a wave of his hand and walks past you. You turn on your heel and jog to catch up to his fast pace. He hums a happy tune as he leads you through some empty halls then up the stairs all the way to the top floor balcony that overlooked Snowchester. He smiles at the sight before the three of you, then turns to look at you.

“What do you think of it? Pretty neat, huh? I think this is the biggest build I’ve done for anyone other than myself.” You leaned over the railing slightly to look down at the walls of the structure then looked back at him, eagerly waiting and bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’s really impressive! I’ve never seen anything like it. Ranboo told me how long you’ve been working on it and that in itself is just amazing.” He was visibly pleased with your response and let out a yell in excitement, bouncing around in circles. He stopped mid circle and pointed a finger to the sky. “I think it’s celebration time. Would you two like to accompany me in some arson?” Ranboo laughed heartily and you looked at him in confusion. “Arson? Will you be burning the mansion down?” Foolish chuckled as he lead you back through the halls and out the back door to the statue. “No, this! I make a ‘muppet’ statue of people and then on big events I do a sort of ritual to burn it down!” He got out his flint and steel and opened his inventory, bringing out a jukebox and a disc. “I made this disc special for these moments,” he said, looking back at you before placing the disc in.

Low drums sounded from the box and he began the ritual. To what and for who he was doing this for? No clue. But he seemed to be having fun dancing around the statue to the music. He lit one of the feet on fire, then another, then reached up to about mid level to get the front and the back. The smell of burning wood and wool hit your nose and it made you anxious. Thoughts of your kingdom came back to you and you had to turn and leave. Ranboo took notice and followed you away, catching up to you in a few swift steps. He put a hand on your shoulder to turn you and past him you could see the smoke. He spoke in a careful tone as he asked you if you were ok. “Honestly, I don’t know,” you replied quietly.

You watched over his shoulder as the statue of him was falling apart, raining fire down as Foolish stood in front of it, looking up in awe. “Could… Could Foolish have…” You cut yourself off, hoping Ranboo would catch on. Ranboo looked back at Foolish and was quiet for a minute. “I’m not sure why he would. We’re nowhere near you, according to your details of your trip. He does love arson, but he’s a pacifist. He’s never even killed.” He looks at you in a soft way and you relax slightly, almost comforted by his reassurance. You were still wary, but for now you trusted what Ranboo had to say.

Foolish looked back at you and waved happily, the fire dying down behind him as he jogged his way inside. “Wasn’t that fun,” he sighed happily. “Why’d you come back inside?” You looked away and Ranboo cleared his throat. “They were just a little tired is all. They had a long day and wanted to just relax for a minute.” You internally thanked him for not telling the truth, but you knew one day he would have to know. They both talked for a while about the mansion and the layout, so you sat on the stairs, lost in thought as their voices echoed through the halls. They walked up the stairs and down some halls and soon their voices were barely a whisper to you. You leaned against the pole for the railing and shut your eyes, not focusing on any thought in particular, but letting things pop out. Soon enough, you were drifting to sleep without even meaning to. Your body slumped farther and eventually you shifted to lay on the stairs next to you instead of the pole.

The sun was blaring hot. Your legs kept giving out on you and your vision was black. It took you a minute to squint in the sun to get a good look at where you were. There were trees everywhere, not a building in sight. Just you in the woods, completely alone. You looked down at yourself and took note of your clothes. Tattered and torn. Your bow and arrows were missing but your axe was next to you leaning against a tree. The smell of flowers and citrus filled your nose as you grabbed your weapon and began walking. Honeysuckle was growing nearby so you grabbed a couple flowers to suck some of the nectar out to try to hydrate yourself slightly. Your arms were sore and your head was pounding. Your vision blurred at the corners and you had to catch yourself from falling over, using your axe as a crutch.

Then you saw it. The same green as before. Adrenaline kicked in and your senses came back to you as you yelled out. The person stopped, back facing you, then started to sprint. You readied yourself and held onto your axe tightly as you took off after the person. They were fast, but you knew how to use your terrain to your advantage. The person turned quickly and shot an arrow at you and you dodged it by a hair, hearing it whistle past your ear. You dipped behind a tree and caught your breath momentarily and listened to the person's footsteps as they slowed, then came to a stop. You took this time to attach your axe to your hip and reach up to a branch, bringing yourself quietly up into the trees. You peeked out and watched as the person cautiously made their way closer. Their hood was pulled up and the angle from where you were perched made it impossible to see their face.

When they were almost under the branch you were on, you silently brought out your axe and prepared to jump. The fall wasn’t far but the wind from it felt nice on your heated skin. You landed directly in front of them, the shock causing them to stop and stagger backwards. You used this opening to grab the handle of your axe with both hands and shove it against the person’s torso and push them to the ground. Their hands came up next to yours as you both fell. Your left knee landed next to them, your right foot on the opposite side, and the bar of your axe pushed against their throat. The only thing from keeping this stranger from choking was their own two hands pushing back.

“Who are you,” you practically yelled. You looked down at them as they chuckled roughly through gasps of air. They wore a mask with a simple smile etched into it, a crack going down the right side. “Who’s asking.” By their voice, you now identified them as male. “I am,” you state. “You aren’t supposed to be able to interact with me. Now answer me. Who. Are. You.” You pushed harder and he squirmed, trying to get a better grasp on your weapon. He coughed and took in a breath before speaking again. “I go by Dream,” he says quietly. “And why should I trust you, Dream? I was told you were put into prison for murder, arson, and a whole list of other things.” He let out a laugh. “So you met them. That’s what they told you? And you believed them without a second though?” He brought a knee up and pushed against you as hard as he could. The sweat from your palms loosened your grip and he broke free, taking your axe with him as he stood and backed up, readying said weapon in front of him. “You know, I saw your kingdom,” he started. “You should know then that you should always listen to the other side before coming to a decision. You listened to those people and took their word for everything without even hearing what I had to say.” You breathed heavily from your spot on the ground.

Dream lowered the axe and threw it behind him as he extended a hand towards you to help you up. You stared at him for a moment while you calmed your nerves and decided to take his hand. Pulling you up seemed effortless and you wondered if he had held back at all and allowed himself to get captured. “You wanted to tell me your side, and yet both times I ran after you, you ignored me. Why?” He shrugged and laughed a breathy laugh. “I’m bored,” he said nonchalantly. “I’ve been stuck in a prison cell for months with only a couple visitors. I reached out to see if I could do anything else and found that I could hop into dreams. But only yours. So I thought maybe you would be the one that would be able to help me.” You stared at him, partially confused. Your body shook and you fell to your knees. “God damn it,” you whispered. “I guess I’ll see you in another dream,” he said as he turned and ran off.

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samwrights · 3 years

Text

➳ » 𝕞𝕪 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕥𝕙 𝕚𝕤 𝕪𝕠𝕦𝕣𝕤 «

⤷ ℂℍ𝔸ℙ𝕋𝔼ℝ 𝟞.𝟝𝟘—missed calls

» warnings and stuff

Language, written portion and the moment you’ve all been waiting for

» playlist is here

»»————-　 ✿ ♡ ✿ 　————-««

As carefully as you can, you tiptoe past a sleeping Matsukawa in the living room and make your way down the hall directly in front of you. Dim lights from the city streets illuminate the walls of the apartment, allowing you to see the door that you perceive to lead to Hanamaki’s room—the only room with a light still on. Still trying to keep quiet, you rap on the door with a nail, hopefully loud enough for him to hear but quiet enough not to disturb the sleeping patrons.

With equal caution, the knob turns before the door is pulled slightly ajar, just enough for Hanamaki to grab you by the wrist and drag you in.

“What’s that face for?” He grimaces when he sees the stupefied look you’re wearing. “Did you really think I was just gonna let you sleep on the floor?” Grumbling to yourself, you toss your overnight bag onto the floor near the doorway, hoping you didn’t have anything in there that was particularly fragile.

The strawberry-brunette resumes what you assume was his previous position—resting on his queen-sized mattress that had the covers made up while you stood on edge before him. The fuck were you supposed to do? You didn’t know—it was the reason you had even called Terushima in the first place.

Listen to what your heart tells you.

Taking a moment to come to terms with the fact that you were standing in Hanamaki Takahiro’s bedroom, you glance all around the stylized space. You could faintly make out that the walls were a rich navy blue and he had an affinity for gold accents, but most of that was hidden underneath what was probably thousands of drawings. From the first Christmas gift he had given you, you knew art had been a hobby of his, but this?

This was far beyond your imagination.

The wall to your right was littered with flash sheets of various themes, large paintings that echoed to his neo-traditional style, quick sketches and doodles, as well as a large, weekly calendar that served as a planner for his work schedule. Flowers, as it seemed, was one of his specialities. Every work of art had a floral accent that screamed of his signature, regardless of how rugged the piece might have been.

To your left was a simple white desk that housed his laptop, tablet, and a few floating shelves that held various sentimental knickknacks. Your hands reach over to grab the dusty golden pocket watch you’d given him for secret Santa in your third year, not even needing to search for it on the shelf—it screamed its presence all on its own. Albeit hesitantly, you gather the courage to sit next to him on the empty space in his bed, mimicking his posture with your back resting against the grey, tufted headboard. “You really couldn’t open this fucking thing?” You ask, holding it up between the two of you before letting it lay flat in your palm, offering it towards the former wing spiker.

“The clasp didn’t work and I didn’t wanna break it.” His nimble fingers take the pocket watch, clicking the clasp that made repeated noises to signify it should open. However, the lid remained shut. Hanamaki shrugs before handing it back to you, turning away so he can hide the overwhelming bubble of emotions boiling in his chest.

You were here.

In Sendai.

In his apartment.

In his bed.

Right next to him.

And the thought that he couldn’t do anything about it was killing him.

Abruptly, you get up from his bed and carefully step towards your overnight bag. Unzipping it, you pull out a small, thin pocket knife that Daichi made sure went with you everywhere before sitting back down next to Makki. Maybe it was you feeding off the anxiety he was putting into the air, but you hesitated on prying the watch open for the first time. “The guy I sent it to for engraving must have ruined the clasp,” you muttered as you forced the tip of the knife at the seam of the watch. Your mind was relentlessly speeding at several hundred miles an hour, unsure of what was to unfold.

Once you opened this watch, everything was laid out on the table.

The pocket watch was meant to be a symbolic confession of the love you held for this man in your younger years—held?

The past tense didn’t seem to be accurate.

Your nail holds down the clasp as you gingerly twist the knife, breaking the inner mechanisms of it and allowing the golden pocket watch to show the custom engraving you had gotten for it. Hanamaki reaches for it, but you yank it away before he can read the inscription.

“Makki...” you whimper out, unsure of how to proceed, “Hiro, what comes after this?” From the corner of your eye, you can see one of his large hands tugging at his slightly longer locks in frustration.

“I dunno, yn. We won’t know until we move forward.” The trembling watch in your shaky hands like an unsteady rhythm of a snare drum as you cautiously place the slightly ajar watch in his hand. Much to his chagrin, the pocket watch no longer worked, the ticking dying down after a couple years. Not that Hanamaki had even noticed in the first place, his own wallowing drowning out the noise back when it had still moved. “‘After all this time, it’s still you’,” he reads aloud, calloused pads of his fingers tracing the inscription and stopping when they reached your initials.

Then he laughs.

He laughs so hard that he all but falls off his bed, not slightest bit concerned at the volume of it, as he clutches the gift to his chest.

“H-hey, don’t laugh!” The tips of your fingers snap against his bare arm as you back hand him, though there’s no real force to your playful strike.

“I’m not laughing at the gift. I’m laughing because...” Makki pauses, fixing himself up so he could face you. “Because it hurts that this is how this all comes out.” There’s a deep cloud that settles over his grey eyes, the pain in them swirling black into the stone. Meeting his eyes, you gnash on your lip, subconsciously grabbing at your sunflower necklace. “You kept it...”

“I’d never get rid of it.” There’s a thick silence much denser than what’s hanging in the air, though neither of you are unsure if you should break it, or even how to. Steely grey eyes drop to where your hand cradles the necklace, reaching out to run his fingers over the back of your hand. Your muscles tense at the touch, dropping the pendant and allows him to hold the golden sunflower.

“So what now?” Takahiro’s voice barely comes out as a whisper, the pads of his fingers still tracing every ridge in the pendant. He won’t look at you—not right now; he can’t. His control is wearing thin and it takes every ounce of him to not be selfish, just this once. But at the end of the day...

At the end of the day, he loved you.

And he would never do a single thing to intentionally upset you, regardless of how much he wanted to close the gap between you and finally feel your lips on his.

“I-I don’t know, Hiro. I’ve never given this particular scenario much thought.”

“I have,” he says immediately. Despite the self-control he’s exercising at the moment, his mouth moves faster than his brain. Hanamaki pulls his hand away from your necklace, finally, opting to rest it on his belly before the thin threads of his self-control snapped.

“Yeah? And how do you see this playing out?”

“Honestly? You rolling over and going to sleep and nothing changing.”

Huh?

You turn to your side, removing yourself from the headboard to rest on your elbow while you face him. What was that supposed to mean? That he had moved on and that you were reading too much into the moment? Shit, wait why were you reading into it in the first place? The feelings you once had—past tense—were exactly that: of the past.

Right?

“Yn,” Makki mirrors your position, resting on his own elbow while his free hand gingerly cradles the space between your shoulder and neck, “we can’t move forward if we’re stuck dwelling on the past. So...” the strawberry-brunette closes his narrow eyes slowly, long lashes dancing along the tops of his cheekbones as he does so. Rather than opening his eyes, however, he leans forward until his forehead rests against yours. You’re vaguely aware of the various spots in his body pulsating, drumming with blaring volume that you swear will wake the whole apartment. “I love you, and I will always love you. But, I came to terms with it a long time ago, that you aren’t mine to love. And I can’t ask you to just up and leave your life just because I’m no longer afraid to tell you I love you, that’s not fair.”

It feels like nails are piercing your throat, your own heavy heartbeat the hammer pushing them deeper and deeper into your chords. Nearly a decade you had waited to hear that this man returned your feelings, and here he was with his forehead pressed against yours doing just that. All while you were engaged to someone else.

Someone you’d fallen so hard and so fast for—a complete one-eighty from the way you’d slowly cultivated your affection for Hanamaki Takahiro.

“None of this is fair.” Before you had time to process the scenario, warm, silent streams of tears clump at your mascara-clad lower lashes before spilling past the dam. You inhale a shaky breath, closing your eyes to match Makki, exhaling forcefully because you can’t fucking breathe.

Perhaps it’s the trepidation in your breath or the rattling of your bones against his that causes Takahiro to pull away, opening his eyes. It almost felt like looking towards the sun, he muses, until he sees your crying form just below him. Instinctually, he wraps his free arm around your waist, pulling you closer until your smaller frame is tucked underneath his chin. “Hey, hey. No crying,” he attempts to soothe, his large hand roaming the cloth covering your side, “there’s no reason to cry, yn. As long as you’re happy.”

Maybe that was why you were crying?

Were you happy with Daichi? And if you were, why was that the second time of the night that you were questioning it?

“W-what do you want, Makki?” You ask quietly, hoping his answer will offer some sort of solace or guidance. Instead, he squeezes just a little bit tighter before relaxing his arm to hold you like a fragile China doll.

“Nuh uh,” he tuts, “this is about you and what you want. I will not let anything I have to say about what I want be any sort of influence.”

Part of you is grateful for that because maybe you don’t have to be the one to wonder what would happen if you left Daichi. Or if you got up and just drove to your parents right now. Or if you decided to indulge yourself for one night. There was no pressure, no hidden agenda to force you into a precarious situation. But if there’s anything you want to do at all in this moment, it’s the fact that you want to tell him for real, so that he can hear it from your lips. “I love you,” you whisper out, curling deeper into his chest so maybe—just maybe—he won’t actually hear you, “and I’m so sorry I waited too long to say it.”

“I’m glad to hear it, even now.”

The two of you remained entangled with one another, your tears and hiccups finally subsiding enough for you to be aware of your current state. You’d probably stained his pillow covers with clumps of black mascara or had it hoarding together in blobs down your face. Even so, neither of you dared to move, enjoying the feeling of being in one another’s company while being enveloped in your own thoughts. Or rather, thought, as in the singular. While you’d pondered the question long before your current state, you took the time to bask in his certainty to wonder what the fuck you did want. Clearly, you hadn’t the faintest clue.

You love Daichi, that’s a fact. He’s passionate and compassionate, he’s the pressure you need to keep you grounded and level-headed. Daichi isn’t afraid to tell you when you’re stepping out of line whether it be going out one too many nights in a row with Terushima or when you’d fallen into a depressive episode and can’t find motivation to do little things like bathe or clean. He keeps you together, despite the broken and dismantled soul you felt you were sometimes. Sawamura Daichi is the present and the future—the matured love you gladly welcomed.

Right?

So why did being in the arms of Hanamaki Takahiro, even in a rather platonic way considering the confessions, feel like a catharsis? Like you’d been drowning further and further into a sea only to finally break the surface and breathe fresh air? Like he was the reason your lungs had been able to inflate and take in oxygen. And the warmth he was bringing to you on a crisp spring evening echoed the comfort of a homemade hot chocolate in front of a fireplace after playing in the snow. Yet, all he had was his arms around you and his head caressing the crown of your scalp, restraining himself from speaking his truth so as to respect your reality. Hanamaki Takahiro was the past—the love of your youth belonging entirely to him.

Maybe you didn’t have to come to a decision right then and there—perhaps thinking it over would be a smarter decision. If anything, your focus should shift to the fact that if you move away from his chest that you’ve precariously buried yourself into, your resolve will crumble.

It’ll crumble, because the only thing you’re certain about in this moment is how much you want to kiss him right now.

But you have to swallow that thought like a bitter, too-big pill and wash it down with limbs wrapped around you carefully as you fall asleep.

»»————-　 ✿ ♡ ✿ 　————-««

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥

@levinneheart @hoe4hq @veelafyre @its-the-aerieljeane @disgvste @sunflow3rbab3 @kiyoojima @urdads @kuroos-babie @more-stuff-of-pi @dabi-hates-fish @chao01248 @kuroos-roosterhead @cremepuffingwaldio

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣'𝕤 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖:

THEY FINALLY CONFESSED. SOUND THE ALARM Y’ALL. also, i don’t know why I totally see Mattsun looking for a cougar. But in all seriousness, I KNOW. You guys want them to live happily ever after already, BUT I really like showing how Makki’s grown up over the years without ya.

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aceofspadegrass · 3 years

Text

Broken Arm Bath Time

Characters: Aguni Morizono, Hatter

Genre: Fluff. Aguni washing Takeru's hair and it's so soft.

2.1k words

Jokes on you slimy meatball I fucking did it! Of course, I can't say shit without getting a teensy tiny bit inspired by @hatterstan-shameblog 's latest fic (Please go take a gander it is neat), but otherwise this is wholesome and neat, perhaps 50% gay energy-

Aguni doesn’t get the chance to step into his apartment before he got a call, his phone vibrating rather exuberantly for 5 in the afternoon within his pocket. He sets down his groceries and pulls out the phone, a simple black flip phone as he didn’t really need to use it for much else. The number was all too familiar, Aguni pressing the answer button and holding it up to his ear.

“ Hello.”

“ Mori, hi! My good pal, best barbecue corn chip in my life, my beautiful-“

“ Get to the point Takeru.” Aguni takes his keys out of his pocket to unlock his door, Takeru humming nonchalantly.

“ Well, you know how I broke my arm last week?” Takeru chirps. Aguni answers with a simple short noise of acknowledgement, mentally imagining Takeru’s calm yet dopey smile on the other end.

Aguni remembered it quite well actually, briefly reminiscing as he opens his door and hauls his groceries inside. The two were actually out on a fishing trip together, although it was less for the fish and more for Takeru to hang out on a boat they rented all day wearing fishing hats that Takeru found in storage in the back of his shop. It was supposed to be a simple trip, catch some fish, drive around the lake, nothing tiring.

That is, until Takeru managed to hook in a monster one. The force of it yanking, coupled by him leaning a little too far (Aguni did try to warn him), led to him falling off and slamming his arm against some rocks that they were parked near.

The force managed to break it upon impact. It was a freak accident, but Aguni did have to get their driver to drive them back to the docks and call an ambulance for his friend. He had to hand it to Takeru though for keeping a brave face and not cry too loud as they used some ice from the fish cooler to keep it somewhat numb from pain until the paramedics arrived. Takeru did whine a little about the fish that stole his rod and how the day didn’t go as he hoped, but Aguni wasn’t focused on the results of the fishing trip. He somewhat knew Takeru was worried as well, but Takeru probably didn’t want to dwell on it and feel the effects more than if he focused on anything else.

The doctors said that it was a clean break, but he’s still need a cast to keep it in place, Takeru receiving all the instructions about how to care for it.

“ Well, you see….. I need to take a bath.” Takeru explains, Aguni saying nothing as he stocks his fridge and pantry, letting Takeru continue. “ And as you know full well, I can’t get my cast wet. Adding on to the fact that a I can only do so much with one arm…..”

Aguni swears he can hear Takeru pouting on the other end. He sighs, shutting his pantry and leans against the door. “ Do you need me to come over.”

“ Oh that would be wonderful. Yes, please do. I’ll be waiting!” Takeru hangs up, Aguni slipping his phone back in his pocket and walking right back to the front door. He leaves his apartment not even ten minutes of finally getting inside, and after locking the door Aguni makes the rather short distance to Takeru’s apartment. It was easier for them to live close to each other, even if it meant Aguni got minimal heads up before Takeru let himself in to his apartment.

Aguni enters with the spare key Takeru gave him when they first got the places, shutting the door behind him and switching to the fuzzy slippers that Takeru leaves for him and him only.

“ Mori!” Takeru peeks out from the hallway once Aguni comes in, waving with his free hand that was attached to his only good arm, Aguni not bothering to wave back as he closes the distance, Takeru smiling and dragging him to the bathroom.

The cast that rested in the sling was a soft red colour, which he insisted wasn’t just pink — not that Aguni cared, it was just a cast — and already covered in small doodles made by Takeru himself among other people that likely pitied Takeru’s poorly arm and wanted to decorate it. Even Aguni had something on there, on insistence of Takeru the day he got the cast done. It was a simple and poorly drawn flower done in black marker, but Takeru was happy with it. Compared to all the other, much more colourful and creative things that surrounded it, it almost looked like such a sad excuse for a doodle.

Still, Takeru assured him that he loved it. Aguni watches as Takeru pulls out a plastic bag and some rubber bands that he was going to use to cover the cast, sliding the bag over his right arm. Aguni didn’t have to be told anything as he grabs the bands and pulls them over the bag and cast, holding it firm so no moisture would accidentally get inside. It wasn’t too tight to cause his friend discomfort, and the two head together to the bathroom.

The bath, unsurprisingly, has already been run, Aguni dipping his finger in the still warm water. Takeru strips into nothing from him, and Aguni steps back to let him sink into the water, Takeru letting out a satisfied breath. “ Ah, this is nice~”

Aguni kneels down next to the tub and positions Takeru’s arm so it rested outside, Takeru grabbing a bottle from a metal rack that was within his arms reach. Takeru holds it out to Aguni with a smile, Aguni wordlessly uncapping it before pouring a little into the water and turning the faucet on again, bubbles soon emerging along with the scent of lavender and apples.

“ You are such a saint, Mori. Who knows how I would’ve survived without you in here!”

“ You would have done okay, you know.”

Takeru chuckles, leaning his head back and sinking further into the water, Aguni laying a hand on the arm that had to stay outside. “ Yes, but I would have felt oh so uncomfortable! Curse past me for getting bottles that don’t work with one hand.” He lays his other hand over his forehead as he lets his head loll to the side in anguish.

Aguni lets him be to soak for a bit, getting up and going through his friend’s rather extensive soap options. Unlike him, Takeru preferred to smell nice everyday instead of going about in a natural scent or, as Takeru calls it, ‘The artificial man scent of trying too hard sometimes’. He did own said artificial man in a bottle, but they were only for very specific uses.

“ Which one do you want today.” Aguni brushes his fingers through the bottle, Takeru humming as he thought.

“ Obviously something to pair with this!” Takeru splash taps the surface.

Aguni grabs a random bottle and holds it down to hover in front of Takeru’s face, not bothering to read the label or check if it paired. He didn’t even know what would pair with the bubble bath, Takeru was always the one that knew the answer and differences. All Aguni ever did in his own shower was a simple shampoo and body wash before leaving. Takeru had a ritual in his own bathroom, and Aguni barely could comprehend it outside of a lengthy process that Takeru religiously followed.

“ This is a body wash, Mori. Try again.” Takeru pushes the bottom of the bottle up, Aguni putting it back and choosing one that he actually read to be a shampoo.

“ Hmm….. not today, Mori. We’re going for a nice floral today, not woody.”

“ It’s both nature based. Smell like an apple tree today.”

Takeru snorts, Aguni putting the bottle back and choosing the next one that almost was promising. Takeru inspects it for a bit, before letting a pleased note out from his throat, Aguni kneeling back down and setting it on the bath mat. He grabs the shower head and guides it down to Takeru, reaching over and turning it on. Takeru lets out a sigh through his nose as Aguni starts washing his hair, Aguni staying steady and firm as he wetted Takeru’s locks. Setting the head down after turning it off, he opens the bottle and dispenses a fair amount before rubbing it in his hands, getting a good lather before massaging it into Takeru’s hair.

“ See Mori? How would I get such sublime treatment for my hair care by myself. You do it so well.”

“ Thank you. You could have at least tried by yourself.”

“ Mori I can’t simply get a good lather with one working hand.You, maybe, because you have less hair and the bathroom routine of the average male. I would not be surprised if you used your own hair as a method to work one up. Me? I could never. It would be like rubbing dish soap on a plate raw.”

Aguni nods, making sure to be thorough as Takeru liked it to be. He’s gotten enough lectures about his friend that he had a decent idea of what Takeru liked during bath time, or even a shower. To be honest, this wasn’t even his first rodeo of washing his friend’s hair, for many different reasons that always ended with a platonic bath or hair care.

“ Alright Mori, that’s enough. You’re gonna rub out too much oils at that rate.” Takeru tells him after a few more seconds, Aguni turning on the shower head once more and rinsing out the shampoo. Takeru quietly hums as he did so, and once Aguni was satisfied that he got it all, gets up and tries to find some conditioner for him. He finds it after a short look, kneeling down again as Takeru confirms that he took the correct bottle. Aguni squirts a fair amount into his palm and lathers it just like the shampoo, although it didn’t made suds as it simply spread it across his palm to apply to Takeru’s hair. He picks up the hair in sections and rubs conditioner into it, Takeru idly humming some tune that Aguni vaguely remembers.

He doesn’t register his own quiet singing along until Takeru joined in at the chorus. “ Stay with me~ 真夜中のドアをたたき~”

“ 帰らないでと泣いた…. あの季節が今目の前….. Stay with me…”

“ 口ぐせを言いながら二人の瞬間を抱いて~”

“ まだ忘れず大事にしていた….”

Takeru peeks at Aguni with a small smile, Aguni offering the slightest one of his own. He rinses off Takeru’s hair of the conditioner thoroughly as they both end up going through the rest of the song in a gentle duet, making sure not to leave a single strand unwashed of the product.

“ Now the body wash. Can you do it yourself since I did your hair?” Aguni asks, Takeru nodding and sitting up to reach for the loofah and grab some body wash in reach, using the edge of the tub to click the bottle open. Aguni still had to help him get the soap onto the mesh mass, but he at least could sit back and let Takeru finish by himself.

“ You can help yourself to a snack in the fridge, Mori. As thanks.” Takeru tells him as he scrubs himself, Aguni briskly nodding and leaving the bathroom. He washes his hands in case of any spare suds left on his hand before raiding Takeru’s fridge. He procures a single pear and stands in Takeru’s kitchen eating it — after he quickly rinsed it, like he should — until Takeru finally emerged, towel still on head as Takeru dried it one-handed and fluffy white robe around his frame and bagged cast.

“ That was a good bath~ Thank you ever so much~”

Aguni lets out a soft grunt noise in response, pear still in the stage of being dissected between Aguni’s teeth.

“ Oh, and while I heal, would you mind coming over ever so often to do it again? A man’s gotta keep his routine after all.”

Aguni breaks a piece the pear from its body and silently chews, staring at his friend idly smiling from where he stood, towel now draped over his shoulders.

Aguni swallows his pear, and after careful deliberation, offers a short nod.

#aib #alice in borderland #aib fanfic #alice in borderland fanfic #morizono aguni #hatter #takeru danma #very soft very wholesome #takeru owns a lot of different scents in that bathroom alone just for any occasion #aguni on the other hand only owns the scent of standard care in his for every occasion #yet they can respect the others decision to smell as they do #them singing together? bop #aguni has been with takeru's takeruness for so long he's gained an understanding of what his friend wants #they both came out of that experience smelling like floral #aguni doesn't care about his friend being butt naked how else is he going to bathe-#yes I borrowed the lyrics straight from the source and yes takeru starts the chorus first

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hansols-yoda-boxers · 3 years

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I just discovered the cns au today but I love it so much 🥺 Not sure if you discussed it before since I’m still reading through stuff but — do you think the staff who are on their 1st year did some sort of a bonding activity tgt at some point? They seem to be a diverse group to say the least (lol) but I think someone could’ve tried to put them together and say it is a mandatory activity for the ‘newbies’ at camp??? (my heart says boo seungkwan but maybe you have another candidate for this lmao)

Lee Gahyeon x Lee Chan

I thought this was cute but it got really long oops. Chan gets kinda mean at one point. That’s the only thing I think needs a warning.

[10:02]

“Do we have to do this?” Gahyeon grumbled.

“Believe me, I’d much rather be hiking than here right now,” Chan scoffed.

“Yeah, I had plans today,” Yeosang said.

“Quiet,” Seungkwan warned. “This is fun. We’re going to have fun and get to know each other better.” He looked at Yeosang. “And no you didn’t. I know you didn’t.”

Yeosang crossed his arms over his chest, disgruntled.

“It really will be a good time,” Mingi said brightly. “You guys will have fun and get to know each other. It’s good to bond.”

Gahyeon shifted closer the Chaeyoung as she looked at the small group. Seungkwan and Mingi had insisted on collecting the new staff and spending the day doing... something. She wasn’t sure what. They had done ice breakers before, they didn’t need more trust falls and silly games to remember everyone’s name.

At present Chaeyoung and Yeosang looked bored. San looked sad. Chan was obviously ignoring her in the loudest way possible. And Jongho was just staring at his feet.

Sure. Fun.

“I’m not doing more trust falls,” Gahyeon said.

“Those were lame,” Yeosang chimed in.

“You are all so ungrateful,” Seungkwan sighed, pinching his nose and a hand on his hip. “We’re doing something fun for you.”

“Doubt it,” Chan mumbled. Seungkwan shot him a glare as Mingi started to talk.

“It’s not trust falls. We know you all know each others names and don’t need ice breakers. We want you to actually work together. Do you remember bingo night?” Mingi asked.

Chan stood a little taller, puffing out his chest. “Of course we do.”

“You’d think he’s a peacock the way he postures like that,” Gahyeon muttered to Chaeyoung, earning a giggle.

“He’s too full of himself,” She chuckled.

“Well,” Mingi continued. “We have a scavenger hunt for you. You will have to work together, all six of you for some things. But you also will spend most of the day with your partner. It’ll help you get to know them.”

Gahyeon looped her arm around Chaeyoung’s. “Perfect, I call Chaeyoung!”

“Oh no,” Seungkwan said. “We’ve already decided the partners. You just have to deal with it. Also, if you are the first or only pair to finish your list you win...” He pulled a bag of candies, chocolates, and some home baked cookies from his backpack. “...a prize!”

The whole group was much more invested seeing the prize. Even San and Jongho seemed much more interested.

“Alright, give us the lists,” Chan said impatiently.

“Last thing, you finish by 9 tonight and have to have proof of each item,” Seungkwan said. “And unlike bingo night this is pg.”

“Let us get started,” Yeosang said.

“Okay,” Mingi said brightly. “Jongho and San.”

The two looked at each other, Jongho seeming a little shy. They grabbed their sheet before pouring over it.

“Chaeyoung and Yeosang.”

“Wait,” Gahyeon said, feeling her stomach drop. “no.”

“Seungkwan, what the hell!?” Chan protested.

Gahyeon was sure Seungkwan was smirking at them. “Enjoy your day together,” he said, handing Chan the paper.

[12:15]

“Oh hey!” Gahyeon looked up, relieved to see the others approaching them. The last two hours had been snark and silence and it was driving her nuts.

“Perfect,” Gahyeon said. “Let’s do that pyramid.”

“Whatever,” Chan mumbled. Gahyeon threw him a glare. Why did he have to be difficult for no reason?

“Sounds good to me,” Jongho smiled. He seemed a little more comfortable now. “How should we do it?”

“I’ll be on the bottom,” Yeosang said. “I don’t mind. And you’re pretty strong, Jongho.”

“I’ll join then.” He said.

“I’m strong too,” Chan said quick. Gahyeon bit back her laugh. What did he have to prove so badly. “Gahyeon you’re pretty small, maybe you can be on top.”

“I- sure,” she mumbled, feeling a little flustered. Was that a compliment or an insult?

“Looks like you’re having fun.” As Chaeyoung and San climbed on the other three’s backs you looked up to see Minji coming closer.

“Can you take the picture?” Gahyeon asked.

“Of course,” she said. “It’s cute to see you all working together.”

“It’s painful,” Chan muttered.

Gahyeon climbed up to the top. “Chae, will you knee him in the back for me?” The whole pyramid giggled as Minji took a series of pictures, asking you all to smile for at least a few.

“I took a bunch,” She said. “Good luck with your day.”

“I feel like we need it,” Gahyeon mumbled.

[2:48]

“Okay, what’s next?” Gahyeon sighed.

“We’ve done a lot of it.” Chan looked at the list. “We can climb up on Cheol’s roof once the kids are in bed so they don’t see us.”

“Should we get the boring ones out of the way?” She suggested.

Chan groaned. “I don’t want to do them. The interviewing each other thing is dumb. What do I even need to know about you?”

“You think I want to do it?” She questioned, plopping down in the grass. “I didn’t ask for this. But I want to win.”

“Me too,” he said. “Otherwise I would have dipped. I don’t need to spend any more time with you than necessary.”

Gahyeon rolled her eyes, ignoring the slight sting of his comments. “Yeah, whatever, we can just do this then it’s done.”

“Sure,” he said, sitting down and grabbing a notepad from his bag. “Best moment at camp so far?”

“I don’t know,” She mumbled. “We put music on the first night the campers were here cuz one girl was sad. And we all just danced and jammed out. It was just fun and wholesome.”

“Cool,” Chan said flatly. Gahyeon felt frustration bubbling up inside her. He could at least pretend this didn’t suck for 5 minutes. “Worst moment so far? Should I just say this? Cuz I’m putting down it’s spending the day together.”

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. “Actually last night one of my campers got sick. I held her hair for an hour while she was throwing up and had to get Minji to call her mom.”

“Oh,” Chan said, his tone much more sincere. “That actually sucks.”

“Yeah, I know. I was there.” Gahyeon replied coldly.

“Uh-” He looked back at the questions. “What worried you most about coming to camp?”

“You know what,” Gahyeon said, crossed her arms over her stomach. “I’m doe with this. If we lose we lose.”

“Come on,” he whined. “I won’t say anything this time. I’ll just shut up and write.”

Gahyeon looked away from him, pulling her knees into her chest. “I don’t get along with people easily. I was worried I wouldn’t fit in and everyone would hate me.” She didn’t hear the sound of pencil on paper, instead of Chan placing the notebook down.

“I’m an ass, aren’t I.”

“Yeah, you are,” Gahyeon mumbled.

“I’m sorry. That probably doesn’t mean much.”

“Nope.”

She heard him writing. Then the notebook poked her leg. Gahyeon spared it a glance before taking it reluctantly. Chan didn’t meet her eyes as he passed it. She looked down and read his answers, realizing he’d written something else for the third question.

“You didn’t write what I said.” She said.

“It kinda felt like something you didn’t want everyone to know,” he shrugged. “I don’t think you wanted me to know.”

Gahyeon doodled a star on the page idly. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” he said. “You can take a turn asking some questions.”

Gahyeon nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

[8:40]

“Come on,” Gahyeon giggled, dragging Chan to the side of Seungcheol’s office. There was an antenna with a metal base that was easy to climb. “This is the last thing.”

“I’m coming,” he said. “We have time.”

“I like a good margin,” Gahyeon said. She rushed to the metal structure and started to climb. Chan let her go up first. The climb seemed easy but as the evening came dew was settling on things. Gahyeon felt her foot slip as she scrambled.

“Oh my god!” Gahyeon grabbed the metal as she screeched, managing to get a had hold as Chan caught her waist. “Be careful!” He scolded.

“I’m okay,” she said. Still, she climbed more slowly. Chan followed her up closely until they were both of the roof. He took a picture as Gahyeon sat down. He was quick to send it off to Seungkwan before settling beside her.

“Job well done,” he said.

“Looks like we can work together,” Gahyeon said. “Imagine what we could achieve.”

“But then, who’s my competition?” Chan questioned.

Gahyeon felt a smile tug at her lips. “True, it’s more fun that way. So long as you stop being an ass.”

He gave Gahyeon a sheepish grin. “I can do that. We can compete civilly.”

“Agreed.” Said Gahyeon. “But let’s start again tomorrow.”

“Sound good to me.”

#seventeen imagines #dreamcatcher imagines #ateez imagines #twice imagines #dino imagines #chan imagines #lee chan imagines #gahyeon imagines #lee gahyeon imagines #cns au #camp north star au #spin off #friendly competition

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lewalrus · 2 years

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Do I LIKE it??? It's literally all I've ever dreamed of! 😭 I was grinning uncontrollably and giggling like an idiot the second I saw it, thank god I was home alone, your art always pops up in just the right moment for me 😭 I loved I so much that I wanted to shove my phone into my mouth because I was so giddy and didn't know how to handle all these positive emotions I've felt (don't worry, the phone stayed away from my mouth ultimately) 😭 Deadman literally looks just how I always imagined him, I love his expression and I love that little doodle of him as a bear in Sam's thought bubble, just adorable 😭 and the second drawing is just the sweetest, that's exactly how I headcanon they often sleep, I love Deadman's hand on Sam's back, just keeping him close 🥺 what a lovely gif, thank you, you shouldn't have, really 😭💖 I hope that you didn't strain your hand more than you should 🥺 for your first piece on a tablet, it looks great! Thank you so much once again, have a great Valentine's day with the people you love 😊

I'm so glad you liked it! You're always giving me great ideas with your headcanons. <3

#asks #death stranding #deadsam #deadman #sam porter bridges #my art

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trashy-slashy · 4 years

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yooo do you write for soulmate AUs? because like... the sinclair brothers finding their soulmates and that's what spares them from getting killed tho

I have such a soft spot for Soulmate AU’s and for these boys! I’m so excited for this prompt ee

Bo heard stories as a child about soulmates. That touching the person who you were meant for would burn, a searing pain that would mark you both, sealing your fates together. He talked about it with Vincent, mulling over what sort of soulmate they would like. “You don’t get to pick” Vincent would grumble, earning himself a pout from his twin. “I know, I’m just wonderin’”. But then came dinner. Bo hid. He knew what his father would do. “There you are you lil’ fucker” He snarled, slamming open the closet door. Bo screamed, thrashing against his grip. “Stop it boy! It will only get worse!” The chair. The restraints. Tears flowed down Bo’s face, his mother tutting at his behaviour. “You are never gonna find a soulmate Bo, you’re a monster.”

Bo never thought about it after that. Never even the possibility. He was a monster. At least he had Vincent. Every hitchhiker he picked off the road made Ambrose a little less lonely, for a little while. Bo forgot how to feel human for a long time. He forgot how to feel anything. He supported and loved his brother, the way Mama used to, but his heart wasn’t in it. He chased and maimed his victims, hoping to feel something. Nothing worked.

When you showed up in Ambrose, Bo sighed. “Here we go again.” He threw his cigarette to the floor, crushing the flame with his heel. “Hey darlin’, you lost?” You smiled nervously at him. Bo smirked, running his fingers through his hair. This one would be too easy.

Bo toyed with you, letting you wear yourself out, darting all over Ambrose in an attempt to find help. He could have killed you hours ago, but chasing you was more interesting than doing nothing. “I’m not gonna hurt ya sweetheart” You had your back pressed against one of the buildings, wishing the wall would swallow you up. The sky had turned dark an hour or so ago, giving you some cover between the houses. You glanced around frantically, desperating trying to hear what direction your attacker was coming from.

Bo spotted you a while ago, but wandered past anyway, letting you think you were safe. It was always so much sweeter when they still had a fragment of hope. He heard you scuttle around the back of the house, sneaking around to cut you off. “Found you-“ Bo sprang at you, his fingers wrapping around your throat. As soon as he touched you he yelped, retracting to cradle his singed hand. “What the fuck did you do!?” He snarled, vein pulsing in his head. You froze entirely, a deer in the headlights. “I... you...” You began, the burning sensation dulling from where his hand had been. Bo grew angrier at your useless mutterings, producing a blade from his pocket to press it against your throat.

“You little...” The weapon clattered to the floor when the realisation hit him. It had been so long since he even thought about soulmates, he forgot they existed. His handprint marred your neck, claiming you as his own. “No, this ain’t right.” He shook his head in denial, backing out of the alley. “FUCK!” His fist collided with brick, busting open his knuckles. This was a cruel trick, probably Lester thinking it was hilarious to try and make him completely lose it. Yeah, that must be it. He had no soulmate. Just him and Vinnie. Bo turned back towards you, each breath racking his shoulders.

“I don’t think this was ideal for me either.” You laughed nervously, keeping stock of the situation. Bo was deathly still. Feeling a little braver, you shuffled towards him. “You’re fake.” He barked defensively. Your heart went out to your soulmate, watching the torment flash across his eyes, every muscle in his body pulled tight, ready to run. You were close enough to feel his breath on your face. Something ethereal tugged at your hands, the appendages moving of their own volition. “Am I?” Without thinking, your fingers wound around his wrists, biting your lip as fire scorched your palms. You expected him to lash out, not let you burn your marks into his skin. The flesh felt mottled under your touch, reforming and melding around your palms. Bo let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, suddenly exhausted from his outburst, every bolted down emotion bubbling out of control. You smiled as his chin rested on your head. “Bo.” He muttered into your hair. Bo was terrified, but damn it if he didn’t want to stay like this a little longer.

Vincent

Soulmates were just something that happened. Not to Vincent, but to normal people. He never brought it up, knowing that Bo had bad memories surrounding the concept. He’d had to kick Lester a few times for not shutting up about the pretty girls on the highway. Vincent always hoped he had some chance, but between his deformities and lifestyle it wasn’t really possible. Instead he threw himself into his art, doodling ideas of what his soulmate would look like, staring into the eyes of his sculptures. ‘It could have been you’.

There hadn’t been any reports of people touching their soulmates after they died. It wasn’t really a common occurence after all. Everytime Bo threw him a fresh body, Vincent was always hesitant to touch them. His brother had forgotten, but he hadn’t. As he grew lonelier, Vincent found himself spilling hot wax on himself, relishing the sting, wishing he could feel it on someone else’s skin.

“Vinnie, I got two, give me a hand would ya’?” Bo poked his head around the corner, disturbing Vincent’s concentration. He jerked his head in response. Vincent knew the drill. Bo would go, act charming, lure their prey into the house... so they could recreate Mama’s vision. Waiting patiently, Vincent patrolled his underground cavern, listening for his cue to strike.

You tumbled down the trapdoor, howling when you landed on your leg unnaturally, the sound of bones snapping reverberated off the walls “Please, stop!” Vincent had chased you through the house, dropping down after you. He sighed at the state of your leg; an extra job before he could turn you into a beautiful model. You sobbed pitifully, clutching at your thigh. Vincent lifted you up effortlessly, throwing you over his shoulder. You thrashed pointlessly, whimpering as each step sent a jolt of pain down your leg. “Please...” Your back connected with what seemed like a medical bench as the masked man manhandled you as he pleased. You gulped. There was no escape with your injury. Shears glided towards your throat, your shirt falling to ribbons below you. Vincent retrieved a large syringe, splaying his hand on your stomach to steady you.

His skin was on fire. Surely his imagination? Vincent recoiled, eye blowing wide as he saw the perfect indentation of his hand on your belly. It couldn’t be... You gasped at the sensation, propping yourself up to check the mark. “We’re... soulmates?” Vincent stepped back from you, trembling. He didn’t expect it to ever happen. And now that it was... he panicked. You wouldn’t love him, you’d just been fleeing in terror, you’d broken your fucking leg trying to get away from him. Bo wouldn’t let you stay, he didn’t believe in soulmates after all. Maybe he could fix this, salvage it. He had to try.

Vincent dropped the serum on the side, dropping to his knees beside you. If he ever had a reason to be alive, you were it. But what about his face? You would surely be horrified. “I’m sorry” He wheezed, looking down at the floor. Death would surely be preferable to a lifetime with him. “Can I see?” You gestured to his mask, curious to see your soulmates real face. Something pulled you to this place, and yes, being shit scared and breaking your leg wasn’t ideal but damned if you didn’t trust in the soulmate system. There was a reason you two were connected and despite everything, you weren’t going to throw that away.

Vincent hated taking off his mask. Even around Bo. He saw the side glances, the looks of disgust. His twin loved him, but that didn’t make him any less of a freak. But the way you looked at him, your eyes so warm and kind. He sighed, avoiding your gaze as he freed himself from the wax barricade.

He waited for you to scream, to gasp, something that proved how repulsive he was. What he didn’t expect was your palms cupping his cheeks ever so gently, the invisible flames licking at scarred flesh. You whimpered at the burning in your hands, blood running down your chin as your teeth sunk into your lip. Vincent pressed his head against yours, fingers weaving into your hair to lock you against him. You were real. You were his. And he’d never been happier.

Lester

The most optimisitic of all the Sinclair’s, Lester had a bad habit of trying to touch literally everyone. Everything he knew was from magazine’s he’d ransackes from the twins’ victims, considering that Bo wasn’t a believer and Vinnie wasn’t much for conversation.

When he found you trawling the highway, Lester jovially offered you a lift to Ambrose. “Ma brother’s got a phone you can use I bet” He beamed, chatting away as he took you down the beaten path. “What brings you out here then Missy?” You sighed. It wasn’t a particularly pleasant topic and you didn’t really want to bother him with your worries.

“Almost there, d’ya mind givin’ me a hand?” You bent over the hub of the truck, unaware of Lester oogling at your ass. He smirked to himself, trying to subtly brush against you and failing, horribly. “Hey, asshole!” Your hand connected with his face, the crack reverberating through the trees. Your hand turned to fire in your hands, clutching at it pointlessly to try and stifle the pain.

“I was only tryna-“ Lester turned into a puppy when he saw your hand burning, the initial sting of the slap turning into the warm sensation of a soulmate’s mark. “You’re my soulmate!” He jumped on the spot, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “I knew it, I knew I had one!” You groaned underneath him. This was going to be exhausting. “Ma name’s Lester, you gotta come meet ma brother’s Bo and Vinnie-“ He trailed off when he saw you leaning against the car, your arms crossed. “Oh I’m sorry darlin’ I get a bit excited”

“I can see that.” You giggled, running your eyes up and down him. “Why’d I have to get some nasty pervert though?” Lester pouted like a child until he realised you were being sarcastic. “Oh real funny, I was gonna give you the world but I guess I’ll keep it to myself now” Despite the gruff demanour and constant waft of roadkill, you could tell he was an absolute sweetheart. You extended your hand towards him, waggling your fingers. He entwined his hand with yours grunting at the foreign sensation. You pressed a kiss to Lester’s cheek, squeezing his hand. “Now that’s simply not true, is it?”

#bo sinclair #lester sinclair #vincent sinclair #house of wax #house of wax 2005 #soulmate au #bo sinclair x reader #lester sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #can you tell im a total simp for bo #he would be SO smug having his mark on your neck #and i’m cracking up at lester having a permenant bitchslap

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