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samkerrworshipper · 16 days

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las 15.

mapi leon x reader, alexia putellas x reader (platonic)

warnings: the spanish federation ick

erm look at me posting something 😮 anyways enjoy haha i kinda hate it but need to feed yall somehow

“You need to be aware of the consequences of what could happen if you sign this document.”

You stared down at the mahogany surface of your lawyers desk, it was dark, sanded, smooth and shiny. Contemporary, but it also looked old, like a heirloom. It distracted your from the non stop drawl.

“I don’t care, I’m signing it.”

Your eyes travelled along the surface, lookinbg at the different waves of wood and the way that the dark colours marbled together.

“The RFEF could come for you, they could try and take your license. You might not compete at the world cup, the press will come for you, Vilda will come for you, Barca could reduce your playing time, it could be the end of your career. There are other negatives.”

You’ve thought about all of them of course, how could you not?

“I’ve already said it, I don’t care. Let them come for me, let them do whatever they want. I am done with it all. Fourteen other players have signed it, no? I will be the fifteenth and that is final.”

You weren’t a big fan of your lawyer, he was old and money oriented. He also didn’t have your best interest in mind, his sole focus was earning you as much money as possible, which had been fine up until today.

“So what? You plan to be the best in the world and never play international football again? This will ruin your career, it will put an end to the Ballon D’or campaign, it will change things for you, you can’t just do this because your girlfriend does it as well, this will be detrimental for you.”

The wood grooved at the edges, flattening out and curving so the edges weren’t too sharp.

“I refuse to stand by and submit myself to abuse. That’s what happens every time I go to that place, every time I go to camp I submit myself to abuse, torture, horrific conditions. The fact that you would even dare imply that I would do this for anybody but myself is preposterous. I am better than the condition I am being subkmitted to, I deserve better than to be objectified and treated as if I am dirt on that man’s shoe and I refuse to be treated as such. I have standards for myself and the people around me and I refuse to live by these for much longer. I’ll draft up the letter, I’ll send it to you for editing purposes and once your done you will send it to the RFEF, consequences be damned. You should be glad that I lasted two more windows then everyone else, honestly I’m ashamed that I didn’t do this earlier, but I’m ready to take a stand with everybody else now. I don’t want to play in a World Cup if it means this is how I will live my life.”

You looked up at your lawyer, hoping the fire burning in your soul was reflective in your eyes.

“This is a bad decision, you are thinking with your heart and not your head, this is unlike you.”

You pulled your eyes from the mahogany, standing up from your seat slowly.

“No, I’m thinking with my own interests, not yours, not my managers, not my bank accounts. I’m thinking with my mental health, my emotional health and my physical health. For the first time in my life I am taking time to focus on myself, so tyeah maybe it’s unlike me, but I’d like to think this might be the a better version of me, I’ll email you my letter, all you havr to do is forward it, if it’s such a struggle don’t even bother reading it, I don’t care what you have to say, I’m legally obligated to make you aware of any contractual issues so here I am. Give a fuck, don’t give a fuck, it doesn’t change anything for me, I’ve made my decision and nothing or nobody will make me change my mind.”

You didn’t wait around to hear what he planned to say in rebuttal, exiting the stuffy office as quickly as your legs would allow.

You made it to your car before you felt the tears flooding down your face. Even now, even after you’d tried to speak out you still felt like you were being silenced, like nothing had changed. That’s why you were doing what you were doing, why you knew this was what you needed to do. It didn’t make it any easier though, knowing that no matter what choices you made, even if they were for the good of you there were still going to be people around you who condemned them.

You were supposed to be at training, but you’d taken the day of to finalise all this bullshit. It was frustrating, knowing that the choices you were making for the good of yourself could end up being harmful to your career in a multitude of ways, it was all so fucking hard.

Everybody was at training, and yet here you were balling your eyes out in the carpark of your stupid fucking lawyers office.

If you hadn’t hit rock bottom at the last camp, the this was it, this was your final straw.

It was all too much, you’d been holding out for too long, but the mixture of the other 14 girls refusing to come back and Alexia’s injury had been enough of a motivation for Vilda to try and ruin your life. It had started with extra training after your sessions, then sessions in the mornings, then separating you from the rest of the team, limiting your diet, gym sessions, changing your schedules to everybody elses, punishing you for nothing, treating you like you were a slave to the Spanish Women’s team.

You were the best midfielder they had, excluding Alexia, and she was hurt, you were the scapegoat for the team, you were responsible for the wins and the reason for the losses.

You knew that with your leave, somebody else would end up taking your role, probably Aitana who was far to young to deal with that kind of pain, and you felt bad, you felt more guilty than you thought possible, but you couldnt do it for any longer, you couldn’t act like it wasn’t killing you on the inside for every second that you spent away with those people.

You hated it, you hated feeling like nothing, you hated feeling worthless, you hated living your life like it was pointless, you couldn’t do it for any longer, not when you were giving up every single part of yourself to keep yourself together.

You couldn’t stay how you were, crying in the drivers seat of your car milling over the memories of your last camp, you needed to leave, needed to go somewhere, needed to talk somebody.

Before you really knew what you were doing you’d started driving, letting the tears drip onto your lap and the steering wheel as you frantically drove your way through the city.

You couldn’t be alone, but you also couldn’t handle all the eyes of your teammates, so you drove to the one other place that you could think of where you hoped somebody would be.

You tried your hardest to wipe the tears from your face, but they kept falling, the sleeve of your shirt getting damper by the second as you tried to wipe up the evidence of your breakdown. It was useless, and eventually you gave up, stepping out of your car and ducking your head as you walked towards the lift and navigated your way through the apartment building.

The person you were looking for didn’t answer the door, instead you were put face to face with Olga.

“Hola chica, Ale didn’t tell me she was expecting visitors.”

You bit down on your lip, tapping your foot against the floor as you peeked around Olga, searching for the person you were seeking out.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t tell her, I can go home, I know she’s been busy with her rehab, I don’t even know how I ended up here.”

Olga tugged at your arm before you could spit anything else out, tugging you through the door and closing it from behind you.

“Nonsense chica, you’re very welcome here, Alexia is sitting out on the balcony doing her exercises, she’ll be more than happy to have your company, just head on through, your always welcome here.”

You nodded at Olga, smiling at her as much as you could with your lip still stuck between your teeth.

“Thank you, thank you so much, I really appreciate.”

You tried to ignore the tears that were still dripping down your face, it didn’t feel like you were crying, even though you were, it more felt like you were shedding a layer of yourself, the layer that was holding all of the trauma that you’d been holding in, like it was your way of getting rid of it all.

Alexia’s apartment was meticulously clean as ever, but you spotted her out in the sun easily.

She was standing outside, in a pose similar to ones you did in your yoga sessions.

She looked at peace, like she was calm, like she was serene, the complete polar opposite to how you felt and you really didn’t want to burden her with your problems, but you were here now anyways.

You tiptoed over to the glass sliding door, pushing it open, causing Alexia’s head to peak up at you. She looks at you with curiosity, but doesn;t move, instead her head nods you towards one of the outdoor lounges beside her, which you beeline for.

She stays in her position as she addresses you.

“The appointment with your lawyer didn’t go well then?”

You did a double take as you stared at Alexia, shocked at the information she’d somehow managed to obtain.

“You don’t take me for a idiota do you? Mapi told me you had a appointment you were keeping quiet about this morning, it doesn’t take a genius to figure it out who it must have been with, considering recent events. Although your girlfriend wasn’t smart enough to work it out herself.”

Alexia stayed in her stretch, looking at you as if to prompt you to tell her more.

“Yes, I had a appointment with my lawyer, Alexia.”

Alexia smirked to herself, she was one of the most obersvanet people you knew, nothing got by her, you weren’t all that surprised to find out that this hadn’t.

“You’ll be joining the group then?”

You hadn’t really comes to terms with it, let alone saying it out loud.

“That’s the plan, should be official by tomorrow.”

Tears were still dripping down your face, you couldn’t find yourself caring though.

“Good for you. You deserve better, we all deserve better, may we all hopefully make a change.”

Alexia wasn’t officially a part of the movement, but she was everyway besides a signature as equally involved as everybody else.

“It just feels like i’m letting the team down, that I’m letting everyone down.”

Alexia nodded at you, finally coming out of her stretch and walking over to sit down next to you.

“You’re doing what’s good for you chica, your doing something that is going to make you happier, that is going to make your life better. Nobody else matters beyond that, trust me.”

Alexia looked at you, like she was genuinely struggling to help you out in the moment. She had been your mentor at Barca for forever, you seeked out her advice more than anybody elses, especially in this moment.

“I don’t know how to do it anymore, it’s like he was trying to ruin my fucking life, like his whole purpose for everyday was to make my life a living hell, and I just couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t walk around camp acting like it was fine, I couldn’t smile at cameras and talk to the press and tell them about how great I was feeling when it was all lies, all I wanted to do was leave, or sleep, or die, all because of his and his staff. They were hardly feeding me, hardly letting me sleep, hardly giving me a break and expecting me to perform at the same level as everybody else, if not better. I just couldn’t do it anymore Ale, it was too much.”

Alexia’s arm placed itself on your knee, squeezing your covered skin.

“You shouldn’t have to, you needed to leave and you did, you made the right decision chica, you made a impossible decision that will make your life 100 times easier, it doesn’t make you weak, it makes you so incredibly brave for being able to identify that you were being treated wrongly and that you needed to remove yourself from that space.”

The tears kept falling, your pants were slowly becoming soaked with the raw emotion.

“Mapi did it because of the abuse, because she had a legitimate reason, I’m leaving because they worked me a little bit harder than everybody else, it feels like I’m overreacting.”

You could feel Alexia rolling her eyes from beside you.

“Really? Has Mapi told you that?”

Mapi had told you that you deserved the world, you deserved everything you wanted, you deserved to be treated like a queen, not how the RFEF was treating you. She’d told you the decision was yours, that she would support you no matter what you did, but she’d also told you that after every camp you came back with a little bit less of yourself, that Vilda was stripping parts of you away to use at his mercy.

“It’s not the same thing, Patri, Pina, Mapi, they all have good reasons, they’ve all been hurt, Vilda is just trying to make me better, trying to make me worthy.”

Alexia’s hand squeezed tighter.

“You’re lying to yourself and you know it. As long as he is in charge, you aren’t going to get treated how you deserve, none of us are. We’ve all paid our dues, yet they don’t give a shit, they break us all down until we’ve got nothing left to give. They broke me down until I did my acl, if you hadn’t of left they would have done the same to you. It’s nonstop, even if it isn’t the same kind of abuse as Mapi, it’s still abuse, they still rip out every part of you in the process. Each time you come back you have less of yourself to offer, but they keep taking, and taking, they make us feel nothing. It’s a waste, it’s a waste of the wonderful life we’ve all been gifted. We deserve to be happy, we deserve to be free of the pain.”

You nodded your head, you’d been avoiding telling Mapi about all of this. You were conscious that she was still working through a lot of her own trauma, and you didn’t want to reopen scars that were only just beginning to heal.

“I don’t know what to do Ale, I sign the papers, I write the letters and I’m taking a stand, I’m trying to make a change. I stay, I wreck it all, but I keep my career. It feels like I’m at a crossroads with myself, and I can’t talk about it weith Maps because god forbid shes already been through enough with her own struggle through it all, she doesn’t need me on top of that.”

Alexia stood back up, getting back onto her mat and pushing herself into another stretch, all whilst she maintained eye contact with you.

“Mapi’s talked to you about her struggles, si? She’s burdening you with her own problems, yet it doesn’t feel that way, because you love her and you’d do anything to make her pain less. I guarantee she’d feel the exact same way. You’ve been through a lot, none of us will ever be able to completely comprehend what you’ve been through, but if you started talking to your loved ones about it we’d be able to support you better. Or a therapist, I know Barca has been giving you sessions, but I mean a real psychologist, not just a person who tells you that you need a day off. You need somebody to help you, to actually make you feel like you deserve better than how they treated you, because I know that you know that but I don’t think you really believe it.”

The tears were slowly coming to a standstill, slipping less frequently down your face as Alexia talked to you.

“I don’t want to make her hurt any more than she already has.”

Alexia just looked at you, with that double eyebrow raise and little crinkle in her forehead.

“If you think that Maria wouldn’t do anything for you, even if it meant sucking every single inch of pain from your body and putting it into hers, she would do it and she would do it with a smile on her face. Her whole world, her whole solar system revolves around you and she’d want you to talk to her about this. She knows better than anybody else what you’re experiencing, she’s literally been where you are, so why not talk to her about it?”

It was true, for as long as Mapi and you had been together she’d tried to fix every single thing, she would do anything to make you feel better, this didn’t feel the same though.

“She deserves to live in a world where Vilda, where the RFEF, don’t affect her anymore. She signed the petition, she’s cleaned her hands of it all, and I should have done it with her, but I didn’t. I chose to keep playing for the benefit of my career, because I was greedy and decided that a Ballon D’or and any kind of accolade I was a shot at was more important then taking a stand and I hate it. I hate that now that I’ve won things that suddenly it’s all hit me that I don’t like what’s been happening, and I don’t want to support it. Mapi doesn’t deserve to go through it a second time, all because I was greedy.”

Alexia switched sides on her stretch, the sun was radiating off of her olive skin and her blonde hair, she looked ethereal.

“Have you told her anything about it?”

Alexia was frowning, like she was shocked by your actions.

“She knows that I was struggling at camp, she told me I was welcome to talk to her. After the last one she knew something had changed, she told me she was worried and I shook her off, because I thought she was being overprotective, but she was right, she had reason to be worried, I wasn’t okay. I’m not okay, i don’t know how to process it all.”

Alexia nodded.

“Go home, tell her what’s happening, see what she says, I think it’ll be a lot better than whatever you’ve thought up. Mapi has been my bestfriend for years, she’s dated my sister, she’s dated my friends and I can confidently tell you that she loves you more than any of them, you’re her do or die, all she’ll want to do is support you, please just go and talk to her.”

Alexia looked at you with such conviction and honesty that you couldn’t find it in you to try and fight her on the topic.

“Thank you Ale, I needed this, I needed to talk to somebody, needed to feel less crazy.”

Alexia did one last stretch before standing up, pulling you into a tight hug before you could pull away.

“You’re not crazy chica, you’re going through a very real, very hard time, and you deserve to have the people around you show you how much they love you.”

Alexia let go of you, shoving you back towards the door.

“Go talk to your girl, and sign those papers, and be happy, enjoy life, enjoy peace. You deserve it, chica.”

You nodded into Alexia’s shoulder, letting go of her and slipping back into her apartment, leaving her to get back to her stretching.

You shivered when you spotted Mapi’s car already parked in her spot. You knew you’d be cutting it close with getting home earlier then her, but you’d held a silent hope that you would be the first home. You hesitated to exit your car, scared of what the inside of your apartment held. You weren’t scared so much, more a little bit tentative of the conversation that you were about to have, knowing that it could majorly impact your relationship. In your heart, you knew that Mapi would love you no matter what, but it didn’t calm the nerves inside of you as you pulled your keys from the ignition, pulled out the papers that your lawyer had given you and exited your car.

The whole walk from your car, to the elevator and then down the hallway to your apartment had your heart thrumming inside of your chest. Your hands were quite literally shaking as you pushed your key into the door.

You toed your shoes off at the door, slotting them down beside the door before slowly walking your way through the entrance. It wasn’t hard to find Mapi, she was right in front of you, sitting down at the island bench, patting Bagheera and eating a post training salad. You knew that there was one meant for you still sitting on the shelf of your fridge, from when the two of you had meal planned yesterday. She looked so undisturbed, with the afternoon light coming in through the gaps in the blinds and the general silence that you were about to break.

You announce yourself by slinging your bag down against the wall, a loud enough noise that seems to wake Mapi from her happy daze.

She smiles as soon as her eyes set on you and it only makes the weight in your gut feel ten times heavier and the pain in your heart ten times worse.

You wanted to turn around and walk right back out the door you’d just walked through, but you couldn’t, not with the way that Mapi looked at you, like her whole day had been made by your appearance.

“Hola bebita, how was your meeting?”

Mapi’s smiling ear to ear, quite literally, you swear you can see every single one of her teeth. It had hurt you to lie to Mapi about where you were going today, telling her that you’d had a crucial appointment with your manager about some media things, it wasn’t a direct lie. You had met with your manager, instead of it being positive though, it had been quite the opposite.

You didn’t have any words to reiterate to Mapi, so instead you just picked up the papers that were tucked away in your hands and placed them down on the island infront of her.

Mapi looked at you with confusion for a few seconds.

“Just read them, you’ll understand it more once you have.”

Mapi didn’t hesitate, picking up the first piece of paper and scanning over it, before moving onto the second, then the third and so on, till she’d made it through the entire stack.

You stood anxiously on your toes the whole time, balancing from one foot to the other as you contemplated how Mapi was going to reply to this sudden change.

When she did finish, she looked up at you, a lot of questions hidden behind her curious eyes.

“I’m resigning, or requesting they don’t call me up. I don’t want to play for a federation that doesn’t care about me. I’m sorry I didn’t do it earlier, but I wasn’t ready and I’m sorry I’m bother you with it now but I’m also sorry I didn’t tell you about it earlier, I met with my lawyer for the first time today to sign the documents and write my statement. If it all goes to plan then they should be out in the next week. I don’t want to do it anymore, I can’t do it anymore, I’m sorry.”

Mapi blinked a few times, like you’d just blindsided her completely, and you figured you had.

“I didn’t even really know it was happening until after last camp, and I just realised that I was so exhausted and so tired and so sick of it all that I couldn’t do it again. I should have done it earlier, I should have been a part of it all from the start but I was scared and I still am scared Maps. This is supposed to be my job, I’m supposed to be grateful for the opportunities I’m given and yet I feel like I’m a fraud and I’m lying when I say that because I’m not grateful and I’m not happy and I can’t do it anymore, I just can’t. I’ve been praying every night that I get injured, so that I get a break like Ale, and I don’t want to feel like that anymore.”

Mapi just stood up and pulled you into her arms, silencing the rambling and making you realise that you were now crying again.

She slowly led you towards the couch, bringing you into her arms as you tried to take control of yourself.

It felt like every piece of anguish, every piece of fear, every piece of internal hatred was slowly being pulled from your body and it felt so good, like you were somehow being healed.

Mapi wiated until you were coherent enough, until you felt more resurfaced, and less like the bloodn was rushing through your ears and every though of self-doubt was spirally through the different ridges of your brain.

“Princesa, you’ve made this decision for you, si? Not because of me, not because of anybody else, because you believe this is best for you?”

You nodded into her chest, enjoying the feeling of your own skin pressed directly to hers.

“I’m sick of them making me feel this way Maps, I don’t like it, I don’t think it’s right.”

Mapi’s body was surrounding you, her scent, her feel, her everything, and it was all you’d needed today, everything that Alexia had assured you would make you feel better.

Mapi’s salad was forgotten on the counter.

Bagheera was somewhere else.

It was just the two of you, just the two of you to face everything.

“We’re put into boxes, as women, men try to make us be everything and yet nothing. It’s not right, we’re expected to be as good as the men, but we have to behave eloquently, say our pleases and thank yous and never be ungrateful for the piss poor conditions we put up with. We’re supposed to be passionate, but we’re not allowed to over react in any way. We can only underperform, not overperform. There are no expectations for us, because we’re women and we’re supposed to be worse than the men, but they’re are also so many expectations for us to meet. It’s okay for you to be done with that, there is nothing wrong with you saying no to constantly being abused. You’re not a fraud bebita and I’m here for you no matter what. You’re my girlfriend first, a person second and a soccer player last. It doesn’t matter, none of it matters, you matter, you’re feelings and how you feel is what matters.”

Mapi’s hand pulled your head from her neck, her lips connecting with your forehead with ease.

“I’m not doing it anymore Maps. I want to be strong, I want to say no. I want to be a part of the right side of history. I don’t want to sit around pretending everything’s fine when it’s not fine. It’s nowhere near fine and until there is a change it won’t be.”

Mapi nodded, pressing a series of kisses to your forehead.

“Then we’ll work it out, you’ll keep me in the loop and we’ll figure it out together, no more hiding these big feelings from me. We’ll go and see our therapists and take soe time off and do whatever you need to feel safe and happy, because what matters is you, nobody else, si?”

You nodded your head once again, enjoying the same smile that her face was covered in. her lips migrated down to your cheeks, pressing kisses to the rosiest parts, pushing the tears away.

“I’ve got you bebita, we’ve got each other, we’re going to be fine, we all are.”

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risuola · 6 months

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I DON'T NEED MISTLETOE TO KISS YOU — F. READER x SUKUNA RYOMEN, who doesn’t exactly agree with your human traditions

It is the first Christmas party Sukuna ever went to and it’s really safe to say that most of the traditions are surreal, borderline absurd to him. Especially the one with the hanging weed…? A mistletoe? You couldn’t be serious when telling him that if he wants to kiss you, he needs to find himself underneath it with you.

cw: fluffy, suggestive?, lot's of kissing (duh), Sukuna has his own body and he's a grumpy old man — 2,5k words

kissmas masterlist

There is a certain amount of respect Sukuna has grown to expect from people around him ever since he’s got a body of a human. Even though now somewhat mortal, he’s still a king of curses and that alone is enough of a reason to assume that he deserves some honors. You, of course, as his partner, are allowed to respect him a little less, but as Ryomen was sitting on the couch in the apartment you share, wearing the absolute atrocity that you called a Christmas sweater and listening to your rambling about a weird weed he wondered if it could still classify as “a little less”.

And it was a fact that you looked quite pretty in the little sweater-skirt combo you wore, the high socks made your thighs look absolutely delicious and the white, fluffy edges from the Santa hat you had on your head made you look almost too cute for your own good, but he wouldn’t be mad if you just shut up.

“Ryomen, are you even listening?” You whined, pointing a finger of accusation in his direction and, again, looking too adorable for your own safety with the pout your lower lip formed. It took the greatest art of control to not kiss it off your face immediately.

“No, honestly, not really,” he replied and it should touch him, the way you groaned upset, but at the same time he couldn’t help but find you oh-so-sweet at the moment. So sweet, in fact, that he’d gladly eat you.

“I was trying to get you into the Christmas spirit and you are ignoring me,” and you were pouting even more. Great. “It’s our first holidays together and it’s your first Christmas party in this era, you could pay me a little more attention.”

“No, I’m paying you all of my attention,” he retorted quickly, his eyes slowly scanning your figure from the tip of your head, down to your feet and back up. “I just tend to lose my interest when I hear something foolish.”

If you wouldn’t know the ex-curse well enough, you’d probably feel insulted, but thanks to the many months you’ve already spent with him, you know it’s just his way of expressing his thoughts. It made you sigh deeply.

“You are a human now, you know? You could indulge a little into our foolish traditions.”

“I am wearing this atrocity, am I not?” Sukuna scoffed, getting up and catching you quicker than you managed to run away from him. His strong, long arms wrapped around you, enclosing you in the warm embrace of his chest. “I admit, the human traditions were always below me. Even in my era, I never truly participated in whatever people were doing, but what you’re now telling me sounds straight up absurd to me. I mean, this… whatever the fuck that is. Weed thing with kissing?”

“It’s a mistletoe!”

“It’s preposterous,” he snapped quite softly, one of his hands sliding down your back and onto your ass. “I don’t need a mistletoe to kiss you and you have my word that I will snap the neck of anyone who dares to use this tradition to touch you.”

“You will not snap anyone’s neck, Sukuna Ryomen,” you warned, poking his chest with one of your prettily manicured fingers, the one on which you wear a ring he gifted you not too long ago – golden band with dark red diamonds embedded into the metal, the stones being a perfect representation of a color of his eyes. It was a warning, but he couldn’t help but smirk. “And during the party you will look for the mistletoe, otherwise you’re not allowed to kiss me.”

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am.”

And you were, to Sukuna’s greatest dismay, in fact avoiding his kisses as the evening went by. The party at Gojo’s apartment was annoying, but not nearly as much as the fact that you were just so damn stubborn. But you looked so pretty, all smiley and so open, he was willing to push through it all just to see your face twisted in so much happiness. It is, after all, only for you that he even agreed to come and surround himself with the celebrative aura that he had no will to understand. It was enough for him that you enjoyed it.

The apartment had been festively decorated for the holidays. Filled with the warm glow of Christmas lights that were scattered throughout the space, hanging from the walls and even wrapping around the legs of some of the furniture, along with the rows of ribbons and tinsel. A Christmas tree stood tall in the corner, decorated with sparkling ornaments and colorful lights, a large star on top of it. The party was already in full swing and the laughter and cheers of the guests warmed up the air, together with yummy smells of homemade treats, hot chocolate and mulled wine, the merriment adding to the festive magic. Everybody was chatting with one another, enjoying themselves and sharing stories, catching up on the holiday season, cherishing the time.

The music was playing softly in the background, the holiday hits spreading its warm melodies throughout the entire apartment, but in the midst of all the holiday cheer Sukuna’s attention was drawn to you. He watched you laughing and chatting with other guests, with people that usually he would hate but for you he forced himself to tolerate. He observed you mesmerized by your beauty, the way you moved, and though he had seen you countless times before, yet somehow it still never ceased to take his breath away. His eyes drank every detail of you, from the way your eyes sparkled just as brightly as the twinkle lights on the Christmas tree to your bright smile, the soft and subtle curve your lips had on all the time during the evening. He admired the way the few stray strands of hair had fallen from your hairdo and he could have sworn they were just for him to push back behind your ear. The cozy sweater you wore that though he deemed as atrocious, he couldn’t deny its vibrant colors made your skin tone pop. You were a sight to behold, an angel he knew he never deserved and yet, you were his. And yet, some of these beautiful smiles you aimed at him, and your hands searched for his, not caring at all about how much red and sorrow his skin had soaked during his lifetime.

“You’re not enjoying this, aren’t you?” Your soft, sweet voice poured into Sukuna’s mind, pulling him out the trail of thoughts and admiration.

“I couldn’t possibly care less about the Christmas spirit,” he replied, wrapping his arm around your waist as you sat down next to him on one of the sofas. Out of habit he leaned in to have a taste of your lips when you put a finger on top of his own. “What the fu—”

“Mistletoe, remember?” You grinned, a playful tease apparent in your voice.

“I already told you that I don’t need a mistletoe to kiss you, did I not?”

“You did but I also told you that you will need one during the Christmas party, didn’t I?” Your retort was both funny to him and annoying and if it wasn’t for you, he would have already snapped. There was a thin layer of patience Sukuna had and you were poking through this layer constantly, pushing his buttons and pulling on his nerves. He was ready to say something less than polite, when you spoke again, “please, ‘kuna, just for this night,” and the pout that your lips formed made it just that much harder for him to not kiss it away.

Ryomen found it comedic, really. He was considered the strongest of them all, the King of Curses feared for hundreds of years and yet when he was with you, he felt like he could melt into your arms and soften. As he stood in the face of danger, he never felt fear. Whether he was battling nations, facing enemies who had never seen defeat or fighting back a raging fire, his strength and determination never faltered. He was used to people looking up to him, he was used to giving orders and degrade the pawns and yet with you he let his guard down. In your presence, he felt comfortable and at peace with things he would never consider himself doing. The sweater you made him wear, he wouldn’t ever even think of putting on because someone asked. The party he was now sitting through, he would never attend if it wasn’t for you. And most importantly, there was no way throughout heaven and hell that someone would tell him what he can and cannot do, except from you. You were his weakness and his strength and he knew he would do anything for you, gladly following you to the ends of earth. The very thought of hurting you sent a chill down his spine, you had the power to make him forget everything else in the world and when everyone else would cause his blood to boil, you had the ability to unleash a huddle of butterflies into his stomach. It took him a thousand years to feel something like this. Your love was the only thing that truly scared him, the force that rendered the king completely powerless. But he wouldn’t have it any other way and though it made him conflicted, he was willing to follow the silly tradition just to see you smile. But on his own conditions.

“Fine.” He grumbled, a smirk already forming on his lips and just by the look of him you knew there’s an idea blooming in his head and for a moment you wondered if you should be worried or not. He wasn’t going to do anything inappropriate in here, right?

“Love you,” you whispered to him to award his willingness to bend his own rules and even gave him the softest of pecks onto his temple before you got back to chatting with your friends. Sukuna was, let’s say, okay with coming to the party but it didn’t mean he was going to carelessly chat with sorcerers. He already spent some unwanted time with the brat Yuji, wondering why on earth was that kid so happy. Needless to say, Sukuna was vibing much more with Megumi.

As the time was passing and your boyfriend was looking uncharacteristically relaxed in the festively twinkling surrounding, you managed to feel more at ease as well. You felt the slight burden at first, that you forced him to take part in something he had no wish to participate, something as odd and unknown to his nature as friendly people gathering but turned out he was able to push through the party and not kill or threaten anyone too much. He was sitting so calmly that you managed to forget about the mistletoe.

That’s why it took you by the biggest surprise when the strong, familiar arms wrapped around your middle as you got to the balcony to breathe some air and cool yourself, the hot chocolate in your system making a great job at raising your body temperature.

“Got you,” Sukuna’s low tone sounding right next to your ear made you smile and you turned in his embrace to face him. He pulled you close, pressing his large body against yours. “And I also got this,” he chuckled, showing you the little branch of mistletoe that he most likely salvaged from the much bigger bouquets inside Gojo’s apartment. He gave you no time to respond when he pressed his lips to yours, kissing you deeply. The impact of his passion pushed you back and as your butt touched the railings, instinctively you grabbed onto him more, melting into safety of his form. If your mind wouldn’t be so consumed by the feeling of Ryomen’s lips on yours, you’d probably curse the seventeenth floor Satoru got his apartment on.

There was a hunger to the kiss, it was intense and the passion was electric. It felt like time stood still and all you could do was to lose yourselves in one another.You felt as if you were about to melt into your lover’s body, his warmth pulling you in like a magnet, closer and closer. You leaned into the warmth of his love that sheltered you from the chill air. His embrace made you feel the cold night slip away, when he kissed you, you felt like you and him were the only two people in the world. One kiss led to another and another kiss led to the tongues dancing to the melody of longing and desire. It was magical, it tasted sweet, it was addicting.

You were breathless when Sukuna pulled away, just enough to look at you. The cold winter wind blew through your hair and the knit of your sweater making you shiver as you stood on the balcony overlooking the world below and yet your cheeks were hot and flushed. He was looking at you for a moment, saying nothing but the silence was comfortable. He was examining your features, just softly washed over with the lights coming from inside the apartment. He watched the snowflakes stick to your hair and reddened cheeks and allowed his fingers to brush it away. Then he was kissing you again, pressing himself to you even harder, the kiss sizzling in the cold of the night.

As your lips met, your heartbeat began racing again. Every touch felt like a jolt of electricity, the rush of adrenaline filled both of you with ecstasy and lust that made you forget about the frigid winter air nipping at your nose. Your tongues danced and your breaths grew heavy. Sukuna’s hands were roaming around your body, exploring your curves and sneaking underneath your sweater, but the chill air that he invited there was no match for the heat his hands were leaving on your skin. It was as if he wanted to devour you right here and you couldn’t help but to touch him as well.

“’kuna—“ you whimpered against his lips, feeling his calloused fingers gripping your thigh. “Wait ‘till we get home.”

“Why would I? I got the weed,” he mumbled, a smirk apparent on his mouth as he let his other hand squeeze your butt.

“Yes, to kiss me, not to fuck me,” you chuckled, cuddling to his chest, seeking the heated safety his form provided.

“If you’re gonna tell me I need another herb to—”

“You don’t,” you cut him, giggling softly. “But the balcony at Gojo’s apartment, during the Christmas party is not the right time for that. Besides, I’m freezing, so let’s get back inside.”

Sukuna rolled his eyes and you couldn’t help but feel all giddy. Of course he was going to find a way to get what he wanted, and of course he was going to do it in the most scandalous way possible.

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solomoniscriminallyunderrated · 7 months

Text

Lucifer is suspicious of you.

Of those butterflies you tell him you get when Mammon is next to you, of the smile that your face melts into when you realize that he's watching you.

He has seen it before, he thinks. You looking at Mammon like you look at him. He knows what that look is, and the idea that he might have misread you makes him sick.

And then, of course, the thought that you could ever have the ability to deceive him in the first place is preposterous. You would not dare.

And he is right. You would not dare. The way Lucifer has you hooked around his fingers is enough to make anyone with any common sense wary.

But you? You have no common sense. And your sense of self-preservation has been warped since you fell through the portal and ended up here, in Devildom. You don't understand what he's capable of, not really, and you find yourself wanting to test it.

The fact that the demon who is always on your mind is Mammon? The brother he is the closest to? The brother he is the most protective over? That doesn't make the idea any less alluring.

That is why, one night, after a day of hanging out with the Avatar of Greed, you are back in your room, and you text Lucifer.

'Can I come over?'

You know that he will let you in.

'What is it, MC?' he asks. He sounds tired. But he lets you in nonetheless, and you're sure he's got an idea of what's going on.

"I have to confess something," you say, sitting down on his bed. He takes a seat next to you, and the way his eyes shine in the light makes your breath catch in your throat.

"Oh?"

"I think," you say, voice barely above a whisper, "that I have a crush on Mammon."

You hear the sound of his hands clenching into fists, and a dark chuckle from his mouth.

"A crush, hm?"

"I feel awful for it," you continue, leaning in, your hands gripping the sheets.

"Oh, but you do?" He moves closer as well, and the heat between your bodies is palpable.

"It's like my heart belongs to you, but my head belongs to him." You look away, feeling your face heat up. "And it's not fair."

"You're a selfish human, aren't you, MC?"

He lifts your chin with his gloved hand, and your eyes meet. His expression is a mixture of disgust and amusement, and it's making your insides stir.

"I... I guess I am," you murmur. "Is it wrong to want to be happy?"

"Oh, you poor little thing," he snarls. "Did you really think it was the right choice to confess this to me?"

You should have known he would react like that. After all, he's the Avatar of Pride. The last thing he would want to do is to share you.

"No," you say, biting your lip. "I didn't. I just wanted to see how you would react."

He chuckles again, and the sound makes your hairs stand on end.

"Oh, my dear. You do not want to play these games with me."

"What if I want to, though?"

"You wouldn't."

"Maybe I will."

Lucifer laughs, and it's a low, deep, dark sound that echoes throughout the room.

"You don't know what you're getting into, little human. Are you sure this is what you want?"

His eyes glow, and a smirk is present on his lips.

"Yes."

"Then you're an even bigger fool than I thought you were."

Your heartbeat quickens. You don't know why, but the threat in his voice is making you feel things you can't explain.

"I'm willing to take the risk."

Lucifer's hands are on your face, and he's looking at you with an intensity that's hard to describe.

"You'll regret this."

"I won't."

You're not sure where this sudden burst of confidence has come from, but you're thankful for it. It's the only thing that keeps you from running out of the room screaming.

He leans in closer, and your lips are almost touching.

"Let me be the one to teach you a lesson, then," he whispers.

And the kiss is a mix of fire and ice. His lips are cold against yours, but his hands are burning as they roam across your body, setting every part of you aflame.

"You are mine," he growls.

He's got you pinned against the bed, his hands gripping your wrists tightly. His claws are digging into your skin, and his eyes are glowing.

"Say it."

"I'm yours."

You're panting, and you can't tell whether it's because of his kisses or because of his possessiveness.

"Do you love him?"

The question catches you off guard. You've never heard him ask a question like that.

"No," you say, voice trembling. "Not in the same way I love you."

You see his lips curl into a smile.

"Good."

The rest of the night passes in a blur. You don't remember much, only his hands all over you, his kisses leaving marks all over your skin, his words whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

You wake up the next morning with him still sleeping beside you, and you can't help but smile.

#obey me smut #lucifer obey me #obey me brothers #omswd #obey me crack #obey me #obey me angst #om solomon #obey me beelzebub #obey me headcanons #obey me incorrect quotes #obey me swd

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ashlynredonovitch · 5 months

Text

Secrets In The Street

Warnings: none

Prompt: “basically y/n is a poor girl on the streets and pickpockets/shoplifts to survive, and she does that to willy but he’s super kind to her instead of telling the police on her. Then they fall in love.” - @riordanness (THANK YOU!)

“Come back here you!” A woman’s voice yelled from behind, as you sprint down an alley, a bright, crisp apple in hand from her cart.

You weren’t a runner, not in the slightest, so being chased by a woman for having an apple -well, stealing an apple- wasn’t on your list of things to today. You couldn’t help it, you were hungry. The woman wasn’t even around, you had no clue how she saw you.

You hear the woman groan from behind and turn around just in time to see her give up and walk away. Who knows some other person on the streets could’ve stolen more of her produce.

“Oh well, at least it’s something,” you muttered as you trailed along the darkening alley, holding it carefully so you can keep it safe for later. Walking in the direction towards the bench you spent most nights.

It was obviously nothing special, but no one dared to take your bench. You had a raggedy blanket that you stole from someone a while ago. A little bag with a few things of clothes you found that others had gotten rid of, and that was it.

You had heard of Mrs. Scrubitt's boardinghouse when you first arrived, but initially said no when Bleacher had came up to you. He came to your bench many times, and he eventually stopped insisting after many denials. After everything you had heard through the chain of the Galeries Gourmet, you were glad you hadn’t taken his offer though. At least there was a chance of something out here, better than being stuck in a laundry house for twenty-something years.

Nothing new ever happened in the Gourmet, the same Chocolate Cartel shooing everyone away, you had heard of one man getting through though. Willy Wonka, you had heard of his name. Apparently some magic chocolates? Even though the idea seems preposterous, you were intrigued. You, however, had heard from the gossip that his looks had caught the attention of many along the streets too. So, it apparently wasn’t only the chocolate that had gotten people interested.

Carefully hiding your apple, you started your walk towards the way of the Gourmet, wanting to investigate this new Wonka chocolate yourself.

“It’s certainly grand,” you say, as you walk into the store with the velvety magenta curtains, with a chocolate-looking tree as the centerpiece of the store, “I’m impressed.”

“Hi, I’ve never seen you around here,” a man with a can walked up to you, a top hat on his head, wearing a pleasant smile on his face.

“My name is y/n, y/n l/n, I don’t hang around the Galerie Gourmet much, not really my place of adventure.” You muttered as you look at all of the hanging candy around you, children brushing past you, trying to reach for different sweets.

The man nods his head, as he takes in your appearance, “I get it, I lived on a boat for seven years. My name is Willy, Willy Wonka”

You were not expecting that, he lived on a boat for a while, this interesting looking man who owned this place. You tried to send a brief smile in his direction, “so you’re the one who I heard sent the chocolate-trio to jail, I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Wonka looked out the windows, to the places where the old chocolate stores resided in the Gourmet, now empty, as he quickly smirked, “well it had to be done, they were breaking the law, it was just a matter of time.”

You chuckled as you saw the man’s face beam towards a woman and small child who was excitingly grabbing a chocolate bar, “I have to go, it was nice meeting you, y/n.” Wonka said as he smoothly strides over to another family to talk to them.

“Likewise,” you whispered as he was already gone. You felt awful, you wanted to try his chocolate, people here have talked ‘it’s the best chocolate I’ve ever tasted’ many have claimed, and now you wanted a bite. How do you steal from someone who seemed so nice?

The trick to being a pickpocket though, is not getting caught, and you’ve had your own share of the situation going both ways. You quickly grab a little wrapped chocolate and pretend to exam it, glancing to make sure no one else is watching, before quickly stuffing it in your pocket.

“Hey!” A voice yelled, you turned to see if anyone was there, and was met with a small, orange man? You had never seen anyone, if it was a human at all, like it.

“Lofty?” You heard Wonka yell as he came running towards the area your standing in. Bolting quickly, you dodge the running kids and chasing parents, as you try to weave your way to the exit. Just about as you were at the doors, a cane came in front of your middle, stopping your motions rather quickly, “and what do you think you’re doing?” Willy asked, you were close, so close.

“Nothing, I don’t know what that man was talking about, I don’t have anything I promise.” You say as you did a little circle to prove your innocence.

“Why don’t I believe you?” He asked, as an audience formed around you two.

“I don’t know, I didn’t steal anything, Mr. Wonka, I assure you that.” You muttered, wishing everyone would ignore you two, you just wanted to try his chocolate.

“Come with me y/n, we can talk back here.” Wonka guided you towards a room in the back, something that looked like an office of sorts, “I know you took a piece of chocolate.” He sat down in his chair, prompting you to sit down on the one opposite the desk.

You felt defeated, you hadn’t ever actually gotten caught by someone, “I’m sorry.”

Willy quirked his brow as he stared at you across the desk, “so you admit it? Surprised, honestly, I didn’t think you would.”

At that you got upset, “listen I might’ve tried to take chocolate, but I’ve heard everyone talk. People say it’s the best chocolate they’ve ever had. I’ve only had apples or other stolen things to eat for a year and a half. The chocolate cartel knew me well, they would stop me at the door cause they knew I couldn’t pay for it. So do it, call the new chief of police, at least in jail I’ll have a bed.”

Willy stood and put his hands on the desk examining you, transferring his weight, “no.”

“I’m sorry, no?” You were shocked, he caught you stealing and isn’t going to call you in?

“No, there’s something about you. You intrigued me when I first saw you walk in. I’m not going to call the new chief of police. I’m actually going to give you twenty silver sovereigns.” Willy said as he opened the drawer with the money inside of it.

Flabbergasted, shocked, surprised, there weren’t any other words to describe it. You were stealing from him, and now he was giving you money? What kind of man is this? Well…a cute one, but that’s besides the point.

“I can see your shock, my mom raised me well before she passed. If you want to steal a small piece of chocolate, you must be desperate, please take it.” Willy said handing you the sovereigns, a pink flush presenting high upon his cheeks.

“Of all the times to be caught,” you whispered, glancing up in time to seem him removing his coat and hat, “at least it was by someone nice.” A faint blush forming on your cheeks as well.

Willy smiled as he walked around in front of you, “I don’t want you sleeping wherever you are, you can work here, there’s an extra room, we could put a bed in there or something.”

“I can’t believe you’re offering me anything, you could’ve had me arrested.” You told him, examining his brunette curls framing his face for the first time.

“I was taught to help someone in need, and you seem like a good person, you just need a little help. No shame in that, I was caught by Scrubitt and Bleacher when I first arrived. I needed help too. Look at this place, I have more than enough sovereigns to help you out right now.” Willy whispered inching closer to you, as he held out his hand.

Your eyes welled up with tears, no one had been this kind to you in a while, “you have no clue how much this means to me.”

“Well, then you’ll just have to stay here until I know.” Wonka smiled as he leaned in to press his lips to yours.

Let’s just say, you never had to worry about sovereigns or spend another night on that bench ever again.

#wonka x reader #fanfic #timothée chalamet #willy wonka #wonka #wonka 2023 #wonka movie #i love him #he has my heart #the way he says chocolate itches my brain #chalamet wonka #willy wonka x reader

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salaimoi · 1 month

Text

“Remove your dress.”

“Oh my gosh. Can’t we at least have a decent conversation first without you trying to unclothe me like some sort of common whore?”

“I don’t do ‘normal’ conversations. Don’t act like this is something new.”

Even if you were aware of his insufferable impatience, you continued to pester him nonetheless — for the sake of being equally as insufferable.

“Can’t you try? Tell me what your trip was like, for starters.”

“Are you saying that you’d rather talk than please me? You’d rather hear about my mundane travels than to satisfy your husband’s needs? Do you not love me, wife?”

“For fucks sake, Sukuna. All I’m asking is that you share your travel experiences once in a while before you start humping me like a dog in heat.”

“Watch your mouth, woman.”

“Oh boo.” you pout, leaning back on the desk you were so comfortably sat on — as if it were yours.

“If you must know, my trip was fine. However, I feel there is only one place left I must explore now.”

“Haven’t you been all around the world already? What more could you possibly be missing?”

“You,” he growls with a sultry voice. “you’re the only part of this world that I have yet to explore.”

He leans forward on his seat, at perfect eye length with your knees — but most importantly what was in between them. His impertinent hand begins to roam up your skin; the warm touch sends a tinge across your spine as he makes his way into your inner thigh.

You tsk, unfazed by your husband’s advances.

“You’re ovulating aren’t you?”

At your failed attempt at a joke, he stares dead into your eyes — almost as if he were contemplating the possibility of uxoricide.

“Do you have a death wish, brat?”

“Only that you’ll talk to me like a proper human being for once, instead of trying to get in my pants :( Is that too much to ask for?”

“You’re the one who insists on always wearing dresses around me.”

“GASP! Have I been such a preposterous wench all along for merely choosing to wear dresses? Burn me at the stake, why won’t you!”

His eyes narrow into thin slits, almost feeling amused by your words — almost. He flicks your forehead unexpectedly, followed by his finger nail digging at the space between your brows, as if trying to intimidate you — but failing in the attempt.

“Expect your replacement with a more obedient wife to happen soon.”

The last thing Sukuna would do was replace you — probably. The second to last thing, though, would be to behead you for daring to be such a cheeky wretch in his presence.

Basking in the fact, you dig your grave just a bit further.

“My prayers to that poor woman, whoever she is.”

#✰ bestsorcereralive is online #talk to me nice 𐙚🧸ྀི #can you tell i was giggling like a dumbass when writing this #reader is so insufferable and I love her for that #MDNI PLEASE!#sukuna ryoumen x you #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen #reader x sukuna #sukuna x brat reader #sukuna x you

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tmntxthings · 4 months

Note

Could we please have some head cannons with the rise boys reactions to their best friend/crush laughing and giggling on the phone like a maniac?

Who would be the most jealous and how would they go about it?

Also, i love your work sm. 💜💜💜💜

Jealous Headcanons

author’s note: thank you, hope you enjoy this one as well, sorry for the wait c:

warnings: none to note, unedited

—————————————————————————

Mikey wouldn’t be jealous, though he’d definitely get nosy and ask, “What’s so funny angel??” He’d have a grin on his face just from your laughter. Because duh even if it’s not due to his jokes he likes to see you happy! Dare I even say he would be the least jealous of all his brothers? I think Mikey would instantly be trying to befriend all of your friends just so everyone could hang out together! Though if you ignore his question and just keep on laughing he may get a little butt-hurt. Expect him to start getting closer, and closer to wherever you’re lounging. His eyes twitching with a bit of mania in his grin now, “C’monnn I wanna know too!!” If you’re still keeping quiet and ignoring him then maybe you should get ready for him to jump you completely. In your lap, wanting recognition, “Hellooo I know you hear me!!! Is this a prank?? Am I being recorded???”

Raph is honestly just happy you’re here. The worst you can do to this turtle is be gone too long from his side. Remember he isn’t too keen on being alone. I think he would be like Mikey in that your laughter is infectious and he’d probably be grinning to himself despite not knowing why you’re even laughing. If the phone call goes on forever though he may get a little jealous that you’re here with him yet not really paying much attention. He’ll go grab one of his stuffed teddies for comfort. All the while giving you looks of longing. His snaggle-tooth digging into his lower lip because he doesn’t really want to interrupt your call. But his body language is begging the person on the other end of the call to hang up already!!

Donnie would play off his jealousy with annoyance. You were over in his lab and the incessant giggles were becoming a distraction. He’d huff and throw glares your way, trying to catch your gaze so you would maybe feel a tad guilty for being so obnoxious in his presence! Who was making you laugh so hard anyway?? And he thought he was the funny one! He’d start grumbling and mumbling to himself that maybe you should just go over to this person’s cool lab and listen to all their jokes in person! He’d sulk once you were off the phone, completely denying any form of the word jealousy. “Jealous?! Hah! That’s preposterous does he have a fully decked out turtle tank? Or a genius-built lab? OR-“ the list would go on and on until you sedated him with cuddles and compliments.

Leo would be the most jealous. Why? Because he thinks he’s funnier. Plain and simple. Laughing at even his brothers makes him twinge with a bit of jealousy. So you can just imagine his heated stare from above his Jupiter Jim comic when you answer a phone call from “just a friend” and its been over ten minutes with nonstop laughter. He loves his comics but this one may be a bit crinkled due to his own strength getting the best of him. When your phone call is over he doesn’t know whether to ignore you purposely out of spite, or try to get you to laugh even harder at his own jokes to rebuild his pride. If you told him whatever joke had made you laugh so hard, he’d deny it was funny at all. “That’s funny to you??” He’d sneer. “If you say so!” Leo is p-e- to the t-t-y!

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jakes3resin · 2 months

Text

Drops this here and flees back to my A/B/O fic doc

"You're a Brit?" The question comes from Curt, and Bucky bites the inside of his cheek.

"Parents were." Bucky says simply turning back to his drink, but Curt's three drinks deep and knows Bucky too well by now to let him get away with that answer.

"But you said you're from Wisconsin?"

"I am," Bucky nods. Curt gives him a look, and Bucky can feel Buck staring at him. "I was raised there after I turned 3. Came here for a few years for boarding school, but my aunt and uncle brought me back before I turned 18."

"How come?" Croz joins in setting down a tray of drinks, and Bucky wishes they'd let this go. There's a reason he doesn't talk about all this.

"I asked." Bucky smiles. "The weather sucks, and I was bored."

"Sorry chaps, did you just say you went to boarding school here?" One of the RAF pilots that likes to stick their nose into Bucky's conversations butts in. Bucky resists the urge to bang his head against the table.

"This fella, right here." Curt smacks Bucky's shoulder, and Bucky sends him a look to cut it out. He catches Buck's eye and sees the questions building in his blue eyes. Bucky turns away. He can't answer those questions.

"Where abouts?" The RAF pilot clearly doesn't see how done with this topic Bucky is.

"Scotland." Bucky answers with a sharp grin. "Old school, but you won't know it."

"Bloody hell," The man stares at Bucky wide-eyed, and he can feel Buck tensing, whether it's to defend Bucky or to stop him from doing something stupid that's still unclear. "You didn't go to Hogwarts, did you?"

Bucky freezes. He stares up at the Brit, grin sharp and eyes a bit dangerous. Most wizards know not to talk too loudly about magic around Muggles and No-Majs, but this guy's deeper in his cups than half the bar.

"For a few years." Bucky confirms sounding like he was pulling out teeth with each word. "You go there too?"

"Of course! Sorted right into Gryffindor!" The man straightens up suddenly affronted that Bucky would dare even think the opposite. "It's the finest school!"

"This side of the Atlantic sure." Bucky leans back, trying to distance himself.

"If you went to Hogwarts, what are you doing palling around with this bunch?"

"Cause I want to." Bucky watches Curt glare at the Brit, but he's calling over more Brits before any of them can stop him.

"Reginald! Listen to this, this chap here says he went to Hogwarts!" The shocked looks on the faces of the gathered British pilots makes Bucky question how the hell they've kept magic secret for centuries. If a few drunk flyboys can talk this openly, what the hell are they doing to keep the secret?

"Preposterous," Bucky thinks it's Reginald who says that, but he doesn't care. "Hogwarts doesn't allow Americans. You, what family are you from?"

"Family?" Croz murmurs looking lost. Buck's gaze is still sitting heavy on Bucky's shoulders. Bucky sighs, truly over these idiots.

"Why do you wanna know all that?" Curt glares up at Reginald. He doesn't understand what the man's on about, but he knows he's insulting Bucky.

"Only the most noble houses could pull an American into Hogwarts." Reginald sniffs, and out of the corner of his eye, Bucky sees Buck finally turn his attention away to place a calming hand on Curt's shoulder. Curt settles back unhappily. "Riffraff doesn't make the cut."

"Right, riffraff," Bucky murmurs. Buck swings his focus back to him now.

"So, out with it!" One of the other Brits urges.

"Out with what?" Bucky says with a laugh. "You boys know my name."

"Yes, but what Noble House do you come from?" The original Brit rolls his eyes at him obviously over Bucky's stalling.

"Is this really that important?" Croz tries to intervene, but the RAF boys steamroll over him.

"Unless of course, you're lying about attending Hogwarts." One of the flyboys grins mockingly. Bucky grits his teeth. This is why he doesn't talk about his family. Brits always going on and on about blood and prestige. He hates it. "Trying to fit in, are we?"

Bucky stares up at them. There's a reason he'd kept his old name quiet. He doesn't want the fuss. But it looks like he has no choice here. These boys won't leave him alone until he coughs it up.

"Scamander, got it?" Bucky grins up at the idiots surrounding him. His hands twitch, a phantom weight in his palm that he ignores. "Now beat it."

"Great Scott, don't tell me you're related to Theseus Scamander?"

Bucky sucks at his teeth.

"That's my cousin." He admits, hoping this will be enough to sate their curiosity. He's wrong. The boys explode, some asking questions, others denying that he's related to such an esteemed gentleman.

Buck's gaze has never felt so heavy.

#mota #masters of the air #bucky egan #john egan #john bucky egan #gale cleven #gale buck cleven #buck x bucky #clegan #my writing #magic au

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seat-safety-switch · 3 months

Text

In art, there is a concept of "outsider art." That's art that was made by folks who weren't trained in it, who didn't practice its rituals and take its lessons to heed. Those people still managed to make art, but its convention-defying freshness and bizarre arrival out of nowhere is important enough to define it separately from the usual stuff.

You might think that this is elitist, and it definitely is. Just because you didn't read the right magazines, go to the right schools, sleep with the right folks dressed like vampires, your art is reduced? Preposterous. Better to dwell on the positive, in that you are perfectly positioned, with your unique perspective on life, to shake up the tedium of what has come before and show them all that they were very, very wrong.

Why am I talking about this right now? Oh, no reason. It's just that recently, I got to meet my hero. No, it's not a famous explorer, scientist, or politician. My hero is the dude who invented the Plymouth Volare. I thought he would be excited to see what I'd done to improve and modernize his invention for the modern era.

He was very gracious about the whole thing, until the onrushing heart attack finally caught up with him. I tried asking him, as the paramedics were wheeling him into the ambulance: what part was the most "out there," the most innovative, the daring-est? Unfortunately, by then, he was on supplemental oxygen and I couldn't hear his yelling over the sound of the rotary vane pump. Let's just say it's the wet-layup trunk lid that I made out of carbon fibre sheets stolen from NASA. The original one rusted away, so I didn't exactly have good dimensions to go off of, so I kind of eyeballed it. I think I got pretty close! The trunk only fills with water once in awhile – only when it rains or is wet outside – and the other holes in the trunk help it to drain out.

They do say to never meet your heroes, but I have to put something on the end of that advice. Never meet your heroes with a car that fucking sucks. You want to knock their socks off, which is coincidentally something that the doctors had never seen happen either.

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deadbydangit · 11 months

Text

Taking care of them when they're sick. Killers.

Trickster, Pyramid Head, Mastermind, Huntress, Dredge (Platonic), Legion (Frank)

Trickster

Oh my God, please stop whining.

Ji-woon world's biggest baby.

If you get sick, he won't let you near him.

When he gets sick? Clingy, needy, brat.

Get me soup! I need more blankets! Don't leave me alone!

He's used to being pampered. So he expects you to do the same.

A sickening amount of cuddles. You aren't getting away.

You get sick? So what?

You get the honor of taking care of him.

When he's better, he'll be appreciative.

More snuggles, lots of kisses, lots of praise.

He may be annoying, but he really appreciates and craves attention.

Pyramid Head

He can't really get sick.

But he can get hurt.

Usually, his wounds close up pretty quickly.

But if he gets hurt real bad, he's going to need some help.

He isn't a huge fan of staying idle, so you're going to have to force him to rest.

He's very dedicated to his job, so keeping him still might prove a challenge.

Patch him up and clean his wounds.

Despite his lack of ability to show emotions or speak, it might seem like he's irritated.

He really isn't. Don't worry. It's actually a relief for him.

Oh, and, if possible, kiss the wound. That will really make his day.

As a token of appreciation, he'll pat your head and pet your hair. It isn't much, but it's how he shows his love to you.

Mastermind

Preposterous, he'd never get sick.

How dare you assume he's that weak.

He's Albert Wesker. He's the man that is going to shape the whole world in his image.

But, whether he likes it or not, he is sick.

The total opposite of Trickster.

A sick Wesker is a grouchy Wesker.

You're going to have to force him to stay in bed.

Because when this man gets sick, he really gets sick.

As independent as he wants to be, he needs help.

Because of the virus, he needs a lot more medicine than most to actually work.

Warm tea and enough medicine to drug an elephant usually does the trick.

After sleeping the full day he's usually recovered enough to start moving around again.

If you get what he gets, then of course he's going to complain.

"I was just fine on my own. Why can't you take better care of yourself? What would happen if I wasn't here?"

It's just his way of showing he cares and loves you.

Huntress

Oh, she's sick?

She never would've known

She's so used to taking care of herself that any sickness was ignored.

Anna doesn't mind how much you're taking care of you though. Even though she has no idea why you're fawning over her.

The attention and affection is more than welcome.

You might need to hide the medicine in a soup or something, because she won't take it otherwise.

She'd feel really bad if you caught whatever she had.

She would return the favor tenfold.

Home cooked soup. Hand hunted prey.

Lots of snuggles and kisses.

You're her little rabbit and she's going to take the best care of you.

Dredge (Platonic)

Probably shouldn't have eaten that.

Might've been one of the dead cows hanging from the trees in Coldwind.

Or maybe that horse?

Whatever he ate, it's making him really sick.

He's spewing up random objects that he's eaten throughout his lifetime.

A lot of objects that have been missing throughout history.

Airplanes, historical objects, some bodies, etc.

The biggest challenge with him is stopping him from eating more or everything he just spit up.

He is, quite literally, a bottomless pit. So safe to say he is hungry.

A hungry Dredge is not a happy Dredge.

After a day or so he'll be feeling better and willing to eat everything again. Just not the things that made him sick. He's learnt his lesson.

He'll find you some little trinkets to show his appreciation.

Just don't be offended if it's something gross. He's really trying.

Legion (Frank)

He's a stubborn little shit.

"I'm not sick. Shut up!"

It's going to take you and the rest of the Legion to make him take a day off.

"Fine. Whatever."

But he actually wanted to take the day off. He just couldn't let the others see him as weak and lazy.

This was all your idea.

Frank hates tea and soup. He'd rather have soda and crap food.

Well, tough, because that's not what you're eating right now.

And he does not cover his mouth when he coughs or sneezes. It's your own damned fault if you get sick.

He secretly loves all the attention and he really does feel like crap.

"Hey, I'm cold, come here."

You have no choice in that. You're going to have to snuggle with him till he falls asleep.

And, you are going to catch what he has.

He'll be the one taking care of you.

He knows he's the reason and he does feel bad.

He might not be the best at helping you, but he's really trying his best.

And it's all for you.

#dbd imagines #dbd killer #dbd x reader #dbd ask blog #dbd dredge #dbd huntress #dbd mastermind #dbd trickster #dbd pyramid head #dbd legion #dbd frank

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harfanfare · 2 years

Text

Unique Kisses: Heartslabyul!

Hearslabyul || Savanaclaw || Octavinelle || Scarabia || Pomefiore || Ignihyde || Diasomnia || Rollo, Che'nya, Neige || Honest Fellow

Riddle R. (strawberry kisses)

If it wasn’t for this situation, Riddle would consider removing strawberries from a cake a blasphemy.

Fortunately for you, and also his joy, which he could not admit to if it wasn’t the last resort, Riddle isn't sure if his judgement would be a fair one. He is drunk on the taste of strawberries and fluffy cream, but also your fragrance, which has been his favourite aroma even before he thought he would dare to confess his feelings to you.

Riddle knows he doesn’t think soberly, but also believes that Trey didn’t change a recipe for his favourite dessert.

So, it is your fault.

“You should have taken yourself a piece of cake if you crave strawberries so much,” he says, regarding how you stab a little strawberry from his tart on a silver fork. It shimmers softly with honey or frosting or whatever Trey had added. Right now, Riddle can’t remember what his favourite dessert tastes like, and it was your fault as well.

“Kitchen is too far away,” you almost sigh, but don’t do that because it’s not a reason to be disappointed. “And, by the way, you are the one eating your tart. The greater part is still yours.”

“I have an irresistible impression that my serving disappears too fast.”

“You’re such a gourmet then. You will have to take bigger pieces next time.”

You chuckle at his stern facade, face fully covered with blushes, not matching the crossed arms that were probably meant to give his figure a more serious tone.

The strawberry on the fork you put against his lips, and he - used to this, after your multiple pleas - swallows his dignity and bites the fruit enough, not to cut it in half. He blinks a little faster, a little more nervous, and can’t bear to hold your stare when you smile and put the fork aside.

And then, you bite a strawberry held by his lips. A soft crunch attends the moment where your lips brush against each other. You feel how a sweet juice fills your lips and you have to move away to not let it drain over a corner of your mouth.

Satisfied, now less frustrated with your idea, you lick your wet, slightly sticky lips.

You glance at Riddle.

It… was a surprise that he went with your idea. It was a plan to soften him up a bit and have another reason to laugh when he would scold you again for your “preposterous suggestions”.

Surely not for you to stand in bewilderment and quick-paced heartbeat when Riddle pulls out a strawberry on a fork towards you. And as his face is red, crimson almost, his gaze is tainted with warm grey.

“Now it’s your turn.”

And that was an order.

Trey C. (hand kisses)

Trey Clover is a gentleman.

He opens the door whenever you go with him. Helps to carry supplies to the alchemy room at the far end of the school. Forbids you to prepare snacks for yourself, just to serve you beautiful little tarts during a break, that can be eaten in one bite.

His love is elegant and attentive. He likes to hold you in his arms while reading books. By highlighting the most important things in notes he helps you prepare for exams. He doesn’t even complain when you rob his wardrobe and usurp his clothes. He collects - by following all the Queen's rules or while avoiding Riddle's eyesight -- and offers you roses for every greater or lesser success.

A dreamy gentleman.

The only thing that mystifies you every time, is his touch.

You always quiver slightly as he takes your hand in his and entwines your fingers. He turns it over and brings it to his mouth, kissing the back of your hand. You don't know what is more delicate: the way his fingers slide over yours, or your heart, which will probably quickly tear apart itself, not able to bear the darting beat.

It would definitely be a nice death, but more than choosing that, you'd still rather live through this moment.

Trey's lips brush against your skin and move towards your fingers. There, he places another kiss and when he finally releases your hand, he still holds you. A grip slightly tightens when you look at him bashfully.

It was a gentleman's kiss.

Or maybe not gentleman’s, but from a man who pretends. You are not sure if a gentleman would do something like that to his lady: watch her lose her mind with each kiss as she becomes more and more addicted to her gentleman who smiles with a subtle but private smile.

Even as he pulls away, you feel that the spot on your skin where he kissed you tickles you lightly.

"Good morning to you, too, I should say”, you exclaim with a big smile. But you already like that greeting very much, and you're sure Trey knows it as well, as he repeats the gesture every day.

"Ah, and that's not the reaction I was expecting," he snorted as you rolled your eyes. “You got used to this trick already. Should I stop or…” now he smiles, mischievously. Certainly not like a gentleman. “...change the offensive?”

Cater D. (kisses on the eyes)

“Smile!” and snap! With a soft sound, another photo saves itself on Cater’s phone. He immediately enlarges it with his fingers, brings the image closer to your faces and clicks his tongue with dissatisfaction, but doesn’t remove the photo. “No, that’s not it. We look lovely, but- Sweetie, come closer!”

“Yes, yes.”

You take another step towards Cater. He instantly places his arm over yours, drawing you a little closer, as he holds the phone in the other hand. He observes the preview of the photo. And then, he directs you to turn a little to the west, so the sun would colour your faces even more.

An artistic wind begins to blow and ruffles the leaves of the trees behind your back. They form your main background, which Cater wanted to expose as they were famous for their multicoloured flowers. It was the main reason to choose this park as the next place for your date. The strands of your hair began to wave, and you gently brushed a few away from your eyes.

But before Cater can snap that hundredth picture, you lower your head and put hand to your face.

“Ah, I think something is in my eye,” you murmur, with all your will trying not to rub your eyes. “Probably sand, ewh.”

“Oh, oh, wait, wait, wait,” Cater quickly tucks the phone into the pocket of his jacket and with one movement unbuckles his backpack. He pulls out a bottle of water -which he immediately hands to you - and then finds a package of tissues. “Here. Try to wash it out. And blink. You're supposed to blink a lot at times like this, right?” … Luckily for you, you don’t have to vex with it for long, because after a short while you manage to get the sand out of your eye. Cater’s phone is used as a mirror, and he checked himself if there might be any irritation visible in your eye.

You crumple a wet tissue and throw it in the trash can near your bench.

“It’s all right now, I think.”

Cater puts his stuff in his bag and gets up. With a short wave, he says that he wants you to stay where you are.

"I will cast a healing spell on your eyes," he announces and crouches in front of you. He smiles. “Metaphorical one. Please don't trust me when it comes to healing magic.”

And then he moves closer to you, and his hands are on your cheeks. They hold you in place as he gets closer and closer until he completely fills your view and asks you to close your eyes. You don’t have to look at him to know his gaze is trailing your face. And when he stops, it’s because he wanted to turn your attention to the touch as he places warm kisses on your eyelids.

These are some of the softer kisses Cater gave you. They are almost imperceptible and uncharacteristic of him, but you can feel the care in each one... and have a scent of his cologne – jasmine scent, slightly spicy in smell - that he put on himself surround you.

He steps back only when each eye receives at least three kisses.

“I think I feel better now...” You say with a smile which he reciprocates. He pulls out his phone, once again, and points its lens at you. He hums with pleasure, as he finds the perfect angle.

“So~? Will you smile for me once more?”

You can’t say no after such a satisfying spell.

Ace T. (feigned kisses)

“Hey, hey, come here, I want to tell you something...”

You tear your gaze away from your notebook, where the next line of your essay on the history of magic is now cut halfway. Ace's whisper snapped you out of the monologue you've arranged in your head, and you know you won’t recollect it soon. Not even a passive focus spell applied to the library could help, as Ace acted as a truly sterling distraction.

“Come here yourself.”

“It's important”

It’s probably not.

You sigh and shake your head. Ace does the same, but rises from his untouched textbooks. "I lack the motivation to study today," he tells you every time you drag him along to prepare for your next exam together.

He stops in front of you and turns your chair around so that you can directly face him. He smiles mischievously. Almost malevolently, but warm enough.

He places his hands on both sides of your chair and—oh, since when is he so close to you?

It's not that Ace isn’t in the habit of kissing you—he likes it as much as you do, although he never fails to roll his eyes when you ask for a kiss, or tease you ("ah, so you need more of my attention, hm? Heh~") before pressing his lips to yours.

And you are expecting the latter option until Ace stops inches from your face and snarls.

“Heh. You wish”.

He tries to whisper something more, but you don’t give him an opportunity to do so, as you throw your head back. And then he greets you with a look, you could describe as mean.

“Yes,” you admit quietly, genuinely disappointed. You turn your chair around and quickly tuck your books into your bag. Maybe you'll find Riddle or someone who can chase Ace away a bit with their presence, so you will have some peace. “But I'm feeling less and less sorry that it didn't happen. See you later, I'm off to class…”

...

Huh.

He didn’t expect that. Did you have a bad day today? Did he do something wrong or- Did you really care about getting a good grade on that essay? He couldn't guess, but he knew that if he doesn’t make a move now, you will try getting back at him.

“Hey—!” He wheezes, grabbing your hand. “You can't give up so easily. Fight for what you want!”

“Too much work.”

Ace sighs and tilts his head. He pulls you towards him by the strap of the bag you carry, almost knocking you off balance. And then, he presses your lips to his—they are unexpectedly soft and you start to wonder if it was because of the honey he added to his tea at almost every unbirthday party (to break another rule of his dorm)—and then... And then you both lost the air in your lungs that you hadn't managed to take in before kissing.

You look at him from under your lashes as you take a deep breath. “To quote, "Ah, so you need more of my attention?””

“Ughh,” Ace breathes out, and you feel that quiet sigh on the skin of your neck. He is still incredibly close, but for that moment you can’t bring yourself to push him away. “You're lucky I like you. …And, by the way, you choose very wise man’s quotes.”

Deuce S. (forehead kisses)

“…”

“...”

“...Are you asleep?”

“...No. Not yet.”

The quilt rustles quietly as you sat up on the bed. You feel tired, your head aches, and your eyes seem too heavy. You are sure you've already yawned about five times since you said “goodnight”, but even after forty—you counted each one with agony—minutes of lying down, sleep wasn't taking you away.

Neither did Deuce, and that was your current greatest comfort.

“I don't know if I'll be able to sleep tonight,” you whisper, trying to make out his features in the darkness that merge into a dark room. But you are sure that that darker patch of shadow—Deuce—is looking at you as intently as you are looking at it. “Not after the movie that Ace picked out.”

Deuce slowly gets up and you can finally tell where his face is.

“He picked the wrong title,” Deuce agrees, sighing heavily. “I don't know if I can-... Erm, I mean, I'm not a fan of horror movies, but it's not that, that, I-.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” you interrupt him gently and squeeze the duvet lightly in your fingers. You turn your gaze to a window where a hint of light shines through the gaps between the curtains. The moon must be very visible tonight. “I didn't like that film. You know what, Deuce? We can't let Ace choose movies ever again.”

“Right,” he put his hands through the strands of his hair. And then laughs at the memory he proceeds to describe you. “...When I was younger, my mother would often kiss me on the forehead whenever I felt I was too upset to sleep. I often tried to watch horror movies on my own so I could talk about them later at school, but... Haha. Anyway, somehow it always worked because I would go back to bed later and then—I think—I would fall asleep…”

“...Do you want to kiss me goodnight?”

“Ah-! N-no! That's not what I meant!” he protests. And then tries to look at you but finds it impossible. “Ah... Was that a request or a question?”

“An offer of a lifetime.”

Deuce remains in his bed for a few more moments but finally gets up. He pushes the curtains a little more and the room becomes much brighter. You could now see the games scattered on the floor that you had vowed to clean up in the morning, the outline of your beds and finally, and most importantly, yourselves.

He approaches you, quietly and carefully. You wait with a smile that you try to hide. You straighten up, put your feet on the floor, but still sit on the bed as Deuce brings his fingers to your face, and touches it with care as if you were a porcelain doll. Or a dream and Deuce was willing to believe in both cases.

He brushes your hair from your forehead and holds loose strands with one hand; the other is placed on the back of your head. He leans in. You hear him hold his breath and feel warmer as he presses his lips to the top of your head. You are sure he must have sensed the scent of his shampoo (you had a good reason for that: you had forgotten to take your own with you) because he quivers subtly as he inhales the smell bashfully.

And he must also be glad that it was still dark in here because, when you raise your gaze, his head is titled, as he often does when conscious of his blushes.

“…Are you calmer?” He whispers the question.

You nod slowly. Deuce carefully, almost reluctantly, steps away from you and sits down on his bed. Although he is no longer beside you, you can still feel the memory of how warm his skin and lips were. You gently touch the spot on your head where he had placed his kiss.

“If we don't fall asleep in the next half hour, we're going to go get some late-night snacks,” you decide, as you lay down, and you even notice Deuce smiling.

“Okay,” he chuckles. “And we can watch a better movie. But now try to fall asleep.”

“If I fall asleep now, I'll regret it.”

“You will say something else in the morning, tired.”

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #heartslabyul #heartslabyul x reader #riddle x reader #riddle rosehearts x reader #trey x reader #trey clover x reader #cater x reader #cater diamond x reader #ace x reader #ace trappola x reader #deuce x reader #deuce spade x reader

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revasserium · 11 months

Text

pomefiore #1 - truth

vil.

the truth is — he doesn’t know what to make of you, and it isn’t like it’s the first time he’s felt stumped by something, though he’d rather give up his favorite tinted moisturizer than to admit it but… there’s something about you. you, in all your unassuming beauty — the kind that begs no attention but your own, and yet leaves no one unchanged in its wake. the first time he sees you, he is held still by the sight, the quiet weight of your presence, and the first time you smiled, he’d found himself breathless, held still by his hummingbird heartbeat, the stitch and stagger of his lungs as he fights for the air that he knows he needs and yet. “you’re staring,” you’d said to him once, long after he’d admitted to you how he felt, and not so long after you’d admitted to him that you’re not quite sure what this is but you’re willing to try. “i know,” he says, offering you nothing more than a painted porcelain smile, his eyes never leaving yours. “you can take a picture, it’ll last longer,” you tease, feeling a blush as it warms your cheeks, but vil only shakes his head, “a picture could never do you justice… what a preposterous thought.” and he says this was if it were an obvious thing, reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your cheek, “and why would i bother with a picture when i could spend my time admiring the real thing?”

rook.

the truth is — he’s been a gone man since the moment he saw you, and suddenly, everything he’s ever thought he knew of falling in love, of being swept off one’s feet, of happily-ever-afters, seems shallow in the face of this — whatever this is. because he’s certain that there isn’t a word big enough for it yet, this thing inside him whenever you deign to look his way, whenever you cast him a shy glance or a smile, whenever he hears the sound of your crystalline laughter, ringing through him like so many church bells, tolling the coming of something heavenly indeed. “the descent of an angel,” he proclaims, sweeping into a too-low bow the first time you ask him what he thinks of you being here, crash-landing the way you did into the entrance ceremony. you’d laughed again, then said, “c’mon, i’m being serious!” to which he’d pressed a hand to his chest, his eyes going wide as he insists, “i’m being nothing but! do you think i’d make jest of such a momentous occasion?” and when you’d pursed your lips, blushing hard, looking anywhere but at him, he’d reached out to tilt your chin back up took at him, only to say, “i mean… what else am i supposed to think? when someone like you falls from the sky? if that’s not a blessing, then truly, i don’t know what is.”

epel.

the truth is — he’s never felt more at home that he does with you, and not because you remind him of home, the soft, lilting accent of your voice so much more melodious than his own, but when you’d told him that you like his accent, he’d gone quiet for almost a full ten minutes, trying to think of something perfect to say. he comes up blank, but by then, you’d gone back to your book, humming as if you hadn’t just shattered his entire world with a single sentence and gone about your day. so he lets himself sink into the summer-like warmth of your presence, the sweet and tang of your teasing eyes, your daring laughter, the way your tongue darts out over your apple-red lips when you’re thinking too hard. and he wonders, god does he wonder — what those lips might taste like, what they might feel like. if they’re just as sweet as he thinks they are, or if they, like you, carry a sharpness inside like a hidden knife, if they might split him open if he were to one day press his own lips to yours, for just the quickest taste. maybe someday, he’ll try, but for today, he contents himself with watching your eyes flicker back and forth over the pages of the book, and he thinks maybe someday, but tomorrow is someday too, isn’t it?

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unclewaynemunson · 10 months

Text

Belated happy birthday to @steviesbicrisis! Your bday post made me think about a steddie pride and prejudice au with a twist so this one's for you :D

(obviously this takes place in a world where gay marriage has always been completely normal. Fuck historic accuracy)

----------

Steve feels his face light up when an all-too-familiar knock sounds through the house; there's only one person in his life who tirelessly drums out the most elaborately ridiculous rhythms on the wood of the door.

Unsurprisingly, Eddie stumbles inside a moment later. Something is different, though, Steve notices that much right away. His friend doesn't barge into the room to drape himself over the couch like he usually does. Instead, he closes the door behind him and keeps standing still right in front of it.

'I have some news for you,' he says, in a strangely solemn voice.

'Is something wrong?' Steve asks, immediately worried.

'No.' Eddie shakes his head. He smiles, but it's only a weak version of his usual bright grin and it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. 'No, it's um... It's good news.' He nods, almost as if he's saying that to convince himself, and Steve feels a frown creep onto his own face.

'I'm engaged. To Keith.'

For a few seconds, Steve can do nothing but stare at him.

'Engaged?' he then stupidly repeats.

'Yes.' Eddie nods again.

'To be married?!' Steve asks urgently.

Now, Eddie rolls his eyes. 'Yes of course, Steve, what other kind of engaged is there?'

Steve feels his jaw drop. 'How– Why–'

'Oh for heavens sake, Steve,' Eddie impatiently interrupts his stuttered, unfinished questions. 'There's no earthly reason why I shouldn't accept his hand.'

'But he's – ridiculous!' Steve finally manages to spit out.

And something shifts in Eddie's posture. 'Well, not all of us can afford to be romantic,' he says with a chilly edge to his voice. ‘He's rich, he can give me a comfortable home and a reasonable position in society – I wouldn't dare ask for more.'

'Eddie,' Steve says. He doesn't even know where to start. He wants to tell Eddie exactly how much more he deserves than some gross creep, how he's betraying everything he stands for by marrying Keith, how he's signing for a life devoid of any happiness – but before he can even begin to properly phrase any of those thoughts, Eddie already narrows his eyes at him. He looks at him like a cornered animal, and Steve understands that Eddie interprets his silence not as caring, but as judging, or maybe even pity.

'I am twenty-seven years old,' Eddie says, his voice colored with a kind of forced calmness. 'I have no money and no prospects. I'm already a burden to my uncle. And I'm frightened. So don't judge me, Steve, don't you dare judge me.' Then, he resolutely turns around and opens the door.

'Eddie, wait,' Steve quickly says.

For a second, it looks like he won't listen, like he will walk away without looking back – but then, he turns his head around, and Steve sees tears glistening in his eyes.

'I – I'm not judging you. I'll respect your choice, even if I don't understand it. Don't cry, please.' He knows it's a useless thing to do, telling people not to cry, but he hates seeing this look on Eddie's face. It makes his hands itch with the desire to hold him.

'I’m just... You caught me off-guard. I didn't know you were interested in marriage all of a sudden.'

'Why does it matter?' Eddie asks with an arched eyebrow. 'Were you planning on asking me if I was?'

And that question, phrased in such a sarcastic way, paired with the defensive look in Eddie's eyes... The insinuation of how truly preposterous that would be feels exactly how Steve would imagine getting stabbed in the heart would feel like.

It makes him realize that he has nothing left to lose. Eddie will walk out of that door – maybe they'll make up, maybe they won't, but their friendship will never be the same as before Eddie got engaged to Keith.

'What would you say if I was?'

Eddie stares at him. He opens his mouth, then closes it again.

Steve just stands there, waiting, until the surprise on Eddie's face makes place for something more unreadable.

'Don't be ridiculous now, Steve.'

'Is it truly that much more ridiculous than you marrying Keith?'

'Are you seriously asking me to marry you only to keep me away from Keith?'

'No, I –' Steve pauses; he wishes he would have had time to think about what to say. It feels like his words won't ever be able to do his feelings justice.

'I have loved you for years, Eddie,' he finally admits. 'And if you truly want to marry Keith, I won't try to change your mind. But I can't let you go without telling you the truth.'

Eddie's eyes widen as he lets the words sink in with a shocked look on his face.

'You love me?' he repeats in a slightly raspy voice.

Steve nods, only to be met with more silence, as the clock on the wall ticks away the seconds.

'You don't have to say anything. I just needed you to know.'

'Steve... Is this a goddamn proposal or not?'

'I don't know.'

'You don't know?!'

'I mean, it isn't – I don't think it is.’ Steve stumbles through the words. ‘I don't want you to choose me because I'm richer, or – or better-looking than Keith... I only want to marry for love, and I'm not as arrogant to expect you to feel the same way about me.'

'Oh, Steve...' The shock on Eddie's face melts away, softening his features and making the look in his eyes gentler.

'You don't need to pity me.’

'No, no way, I'm not pitying you,' Eddie answers. He takes two big steps towards Steve, wraps his hands around Steve's. They're warm and familiar and making him miss what he can't have even stronger.

'If I had known... Stevie, I would've never said yes to Keith, it's not even close to a competition. If I had known I could have you, all this time... I never even thought I'd stand a chance. You're probably the most perfect person I know, and I'm, well, just Eddie.'

'Oh, we need to work on your self-esteem, baby.' The pet name slips out of Steve's mouth before he can help it, and it brings that beaming bright smile to Eddie's face; the smile that Steve loves so much.

He feels Eddie’s hands slide around his waist and they rest their foreheads together, both breathing shakily, trying desperately not to let their emotions overpower them.

'Does this mean that we're engaged now?' Steve finally manages to ask; his voice is shaking but he needs to hear it. He needs to be sure that he indeed gets to hold the man in front of him for the rest of their lives.

Eddie utters a tearful chuckle. 'I suppose I have another wedding to cancel first.'

#don't mind me rambling about stranger things #in which steve is lizzy and eddie is charlotte AND THEY'RE GAY FOR EACH OTHER OKAY #who's darcy i don't know him #okay listen i know this is kind of ridiculous but i had a lot of fun writing it #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #fruity ficlet

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cloudyyoimiya · 10 months

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CLOUDDD HIII I FEEL BAD FOR REQUESTING

DO YOU THINK YOU CAN DO YAN VERLAINE PLEASSAESES I NEVER SEE YANDERE STUFF WITH HIM AND IM JUST WNSADHBKF I HAD NO IDEA WHTA TO REQUEST AS LONG AS ITS HIM BUT WOULD YAN!VERLAINE X READER WHOS ALWAYS TIRED WORK? IF NOT FEEL FREE TO IGNNORE THNAK OU

HIHIHI IM SO HAPPY TO SEE YOU IN MY INBOX! and yes ofc i’m starved of verlaine content myself so this will do nicely. thank you for requesting! 🫶

When His Darling is Always Tired Because of Work; Paul Verlaine

Format: Headcanons and scenario

Possible warnings: Dark content, unhealthy relationships, manipulation, yandere themes

When Verlaine first met you, he immediately took note of how you tended to work until you grew tired. He could understand your struggle with overworking yourself because he most likely struggled with it due to his assassinations and all.

Verlaine, of course, didn’t know he had the same issue as you. He really doesn’t consider himself as human, so why should he think of human emotions and put labels on them? It didn’t make sense to him.

Before kidnapping you he would try to make you take breaks. If you didn’t want to comply with his ‘suggestions,’ then he would most likely forcibly pick you up and set you down on a couch.

You didn’t save your file before he turned off your laptop? That’s quite unfortunate, but you should have listened to him. It was a consequence of your own actions in his mind.

When he did this though, he didn’t know why he was doing it. Did he really care for a human? How preposterous.

But when he saw that you were struggling more so than usual, he knew he had to do something about it. Maybe it was because he pitied you, or maybe it was because he didn’t want you to tire yourself into an early grave. He didn’t know the answer, nor did you.

Regardless, in his mind, he thought that kidnapping you was the only way to stop you from indulging in this bad habit of yours.

If he kidnapped you, then he could force you to stop working. But if you were persistent, he’d monitor your working hours so you don’t get extremely tired. After all, he wanted some of your attention before the two of you went to bed for the day.

Scenario…

Currently you were sitting on your couch, typing away on your laptop. You were working on a document that was due that night, and you had barely any time for breaks.

You were getting tired, and you were starting to doubt that your body would keep up with the rapid movement of your fingers. You felt like you were going to pass out at any minute. It didn’t help that you were awake for the whole day; no naps, no snack breaks, nothing.

Your so called “boyfriend” was sitting at a table a few feet away from you, looking over some documents. Verlaine wouldn’t allow you to look over said documents though. Your best guess as to why he wouldn’t let you look at them was because they included some information about his next target.

Occasionally Verlaine would look over at you, making sure you’re alright. Each time he looked at you though, you could sense a small emotional buildup growing within him. You didn’t know what it was about, and you didn’t dare ask. Sometimes his emotions were erratic to say the least, and you didn’t want to accidentally set him off.

Eventually when you were almost done with your paper, Verlaine stood up from the table. He then grabbed a pear from the small fruit dish on the table, took a small bite, then headed over towards you. His expression was unreadable, as per usual, but nonetheless it still sent not so pleasant shivers down your spine.

“Do you need something?” You asked, making sure to hide any traces of tiredness from your voice.

“Stop working,” he said as he sat next to you, his voice stern. “You look tired. I don’t want you to get overworked.”

You weighed out the options in your mind for a few moments. Take a break for a little bit and risk not meeting your deadline, or risk setting off your “lover.”

Verlaine wrapped an arm around your shoulders as he waited for a response. Every now and then he would bite into his pear until he eventually finished it up. He then threw the core into a nearby trash can and looked back at you.

“Fine. I’ll take a break,” you said with a sigh. You then saved your document and shut off your laptop.

“Good, good,” he spoke, his French accent appearing slightly heavier than usual. Maybe the documents he was reading over were in French? You didn’t know how accents worked. “Now, let’s spend some time together, hm? You clearly need it, my love.”

You held your tongue from saying anything you’d regret. “Of course! That sounds nice!”

Verlaine immediately wrapped his arms around you and pushed you into the couch. He then rested his head onto your chest and took a deep breath. You were slightly uncomfortable since you really know this guy per say, but you would admit it felt… nice.

“You should quit your job,” Verlaine murmured as he guided your arms to wrap around his body. “It’s not good for you.”

“But I need the money for rent,” you argued.

“I can cover all of your expenses. I have a high paying job,” he sighed. “And besides, I only want you to rely on me. I can provide anything you have ever wanted.”

“I’m an independent person. I’ll be fine,” you tried to reason.

“I don’t believe that one bit. You need me, admit it.”

Your eyebrow slightly twitched and you tried to keep a neutral expression. You knew the only thing you could do in this situation was to lie.

“You’re right. I need you,” you said with a sickeningly sweet tone of voice.

Verlaine let out a small sigh of content then kissed your cheek. “I’m glad you know that. I love you, my dear.”

slowly getting more comfortable w/ my writing!!:&:!

#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bsd headcanons #bsd x gender neutral reader #bsd x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #paul verlaine #paul verlaine x reader #verlaine paul #stormbringer bsd #bsd stormbringer #stormbringer #verlaine x reader #bsd verlaine

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toournextadventure · 1 year

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Hi, don't know if you're still accepting requests. But if you are I have a really long one.

I was thinking about a Wednesday Addams x fem psychic reader (possibly masc), where the reader is like an investigation partner for Wednesday. (I don't know if you want to give some more backstory)

The reader is obviously crushing hard on Wednesday and compliments her, in very Addams way, every chance she gets. And when it's time for Rave'n, the reader just says fuck it and asks Wednesday. And they're matching (all black obviously).

So when it starts raining blood and everyone starts screaming, the reader puts on a waltzer (midnight waltz, Adam Hurst) and asks Wednesday to dance like:

"May I have this dance, cara mia?"

And they just waltz in the bloody ballroom.

It would really make my gay heart happy, thank you in advance.

I gotchu bestie, don't even worry about it 😎

the show must go on

“You look preposterously gloomy,” you said when Wednesday finally stopped looking for more clues about the Hyde. “It suits you.”

This whole Hyde thing was really starting to wear Wednesday down, you could tell. Weeks and weeks of trying to figure out the mystery and she still wasn’t much closer to figuring it out. You had offered your assistance instantly, of course, but two minds most certainly were not better than one.

At least it gave you an excuse to flirt. Which you may have learned from her father on Parents’ Weekend. After he had gotten out of jail. Maybe you needed a better role model.

“We can keep an eye on the cave tomorrow night,” Wednesday said with a huff. You knew she didn’t take defeat well, but this was starting to get downright comical.

“Tomorrow night is the Rave’N,” you pointed out when you followed behind her on your way out of the woods.

She didn’t answer, leading you to let out your own huff. You had wanted to do this with some sort of dignity, but it appeared she wasn’t going to let you. Why would she, you thought with a roll of your eyes. She wouldn’t be Wednesday Addams if she gave you an easy time.

“The Hyde has to appear at some point,” Wednesday finally said as you neared campus. “And I plan on being there when it does.”

“I doubt it would show during the Rave’N,” you mumbled. Wednesday either didn’t hear you, or didn’t care. “We might as well do something that would make us miserable.”

Now that made the young Addams pull up short. With minimal effort at best, you suppressed a smile when she turned to look at you. It was one that you received far too often, one that dared you to continue and see what would happen. A beautiful look, it was; you would do anything to see it more often.

“What would that be?” Anyone else would have missed the hint of a smile on her lips. But not you. No, not you.

“You might as well accompany me to the Rave’N,” you answered. “I guarantee it’ll be positively frightful.”

She didn’t give you a response of any kind before continuing her walk back to her dorm. Oh what a wonderful thing to be around an Addams. It was never boring.

As predicted, Wednesday's silence on the matter had been a resounding yes. She was already looking stunning in her black vintage dress when you stopped by her dorm to pick her up. No smile, no words, just the silent understanding that she wasn't excited, but that's what was going to make it so much fun.

"You look ghastly," you said with a smile as you slipped the corsage over Wednesday’s wrist.

“You match!” Enid practically shouted when she saw you at the door. “Have you always had that suit?”

“It was my father’s,” you said with a smile. “Fits like a glove, wouldn’t you say?”

“Do a spin for me,” Enid said, and you were more than happy to oblige.

You could feel Wednesday glaring into your very soul as you spun slowly, your arms outstretched so Enid could ooh and ah as much as she wanted. There was one point where Enid even came up and started adjusting your tie - horribly, you thought with a contained giggle - and you thought Wednesday was going to murder her. To you, it just made her all the more beautiful; nothing was more beautiful than a woman scorned.

“We should get going,” you said once you had finished enjoying Wednesday’s silent rage. “We’ll see you down there, Enid.”

With outstretched arm, Wednesday took it and let you walk her down to the dance. She still had yet to say anything for that night, but you didn’t mind. Her father had told you time and time again how she was a woman of few words, and that was okay. It was very Wednesday of her, especially given the fact you knew she wasn’t exactly stoked to be going.

The dance was already in full swing by the time you both appeared; nothing was better than being fashionably late. You shared a single look with Wednesday - who looked like she would rather die than be there - before dragging her to the dancefloor. She was going to enjoy the night even if it killed her.

If she was lucky, it would.

“Your dancing is mesmerising,” you told her once she stepped back in front of you. Still no smile, but there was a twinkle in her eye that betrayed her outward unhappiness.

You opened your mouth to make another comment when you felt something drip onto your shoulder. Wednesday’s eyes darted to your shoulder before she furrowed her brows. Another drop, this time on Wednesday’s cheek. Red?

Before you knew it, the sprinklers went off and something with the appearance and consistency of blood was falling from the ceiling. For the first time that night, Wednesday smiled, a beautifully bloody grin. Whether it was from the blood rain, the screams of everyone around you, or the general chaos, you didn’t care. She looked stunning.

“One moment,” you told her as you got an idea.

You nearly slipped a few times on your way to the DJ table, but thankfully Wednesday was too distracted by the chaos to notice. The DJ himself was nowhere to be found, but that was alright; you knew how to hook your phone up to the speakers. It took only a moment to connect and another moment to put the song on before you could slide your way back over to where Wednesday was standing.

As soon as the waltz came on, her head turned to you, her smile now gone and replaced with a look of curiosity. None of that animosity she had shown earlier in the night. No, this was a genuine look from her, her emotions unmasked for the first time since you had known her.

“May I have this dance, cara mia?” You asked as you held your hand out for her to take.

Just like that, realisation dawned in her eyes as her smile came back. She took your hand and let you pull her into the waltz, the blood making your movements a little smoother. If you both slipped once or twice you didn’t call attention to it; it didn’t matter.

In the chaos, you found the beauty in being with an Addams. It was horrifying, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#requests #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday addams imagine

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