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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 7 months

Text

You Call It Madness But I Call It Love

Chapter 2: Late Night Visitor

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: When the reader left Payback 40 years ago after a falling out with her childhood best friend she never looked back, but when two men show up to her apartment and start asking her questions about the past, the reader begins to think those things can’t stay hidden and starts to question what’s real and what’s fantasy. This is a re-telling of The Boys Season 3, where the reader is a supe who's known Soldier Boy since 1927. The chapters will fluctuate between past and present. This is chapter two of my "You Call It Madness But I Call It Love" series. (I'm so bad at summaries please forgive me!)

Word Count: 2.3K

Warnings: References to sex, Cursing (once or twice), Soldier Boy might be, is, really, absolutely, a little OOC,

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. Reader is described as being "curvy." I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue is in first person and is in italics

Masterlist

Chapter 1

*************************************************

1934 Philadelphia

The subtle scratch of your pencil against the smooth page of the sketchbook filled your quiet bedroom. One look at the ticking clock on your bedside table stated that it was past midnight, but you didn't care. The dark circles under your eyes the next morning were well worth it, tiredness forgotten as the haze of creativity dulled the weariness of the day you'd had.

It was your fifteenth birthday, and although your parents had thrown you a lavish party to prove that the y/l/n family had not been touched by the destruction of the depression and were not concerned with the horrors of war overseas, there was only one person that you wanted to be there.

Ben wasn't of course. He was still at boarding school number five, and you imagined that a number six was already in order, given his track record.

You smile to yourself when you think of your best friend. You hadn't seen him in two months, not since you walked with him to the train station and he tried to act like he didn't care that his father was sending him away again, but you knew he did.

The things that Ben's father said and did to him made anger surge behind your ribcage. You didn't understand how his father could be so callous, so uncaring. You also hate that it drove Ben to drink, though Ben didn't seem to drink quite as much when you were around, because he knew that you didn't like it.

The party would have been more entertaining if he was there. Yes he did tend to get drunk and flirt with whatever walked past him, but he always had a way of cheering you up. And he had a wonderful knack for keeping your mother at a distance, who prayed that Ben would stay away from you, but never did.

If he was there your mother wouldn't have hovered over you all night, slapping away your hand every time you tried to take a piece of cake or hiss something at you when you pulled at the itchy pink dress that she brought home three days ago, your least favorite color. When you got dressed for the party you felt like a porcelain doll in a China cabinet, made to be looked at, but never touched.

It wasn't too far off. Being the only daughter of one of the richest families that lived in Philadelphia your reputation and pedigree were two of the most important things to your mother. It meant that in a few years you would be married off to another rich family, have rich babies, and then put your own daughter through the same cycle of hell all over again.

Suitors were already beginning to trickle into your life, sons of your father’s business partners each screened by your mother before the introductory meetings where you felt bored, stiff, choked by the thick fabric of the dresses your mother picked out, and plastered with makeup. All of course the best of Europe, which you had no idea how your mother managed to get given that there was a war on.

Ben was the only thing in your life that wasn't planned and you loved him for it.

You look up at the dark corner of your room to get a view of the long shadows that creep along the bedroom floor, and cut through the light coming from the gas lantern on your bedside table. You try to distinguish the sharp edges and smooth curves and watch them take shape beneath the ministrations of your pencil against the page.

Art was your only escape, the only thing you did that your mother approved of.

"A proper lady should have a hobby." She had sniffed, but then narrowed her eyes at the graphite and ink stains on you hands.

Part of the fun is the mess. You had thought to yourself watching her disapproving look.

A tap on your window makes you lift your gaze from the page and look towards the window seat that faces out the third story of your home onto the street below.

Ben is crouched there on the ledge that juts out only a foot from the outer brick wall a wide smile on his face that you can't help but return. You had been friends since you were both eight, when your parents threw yet another party and you found Ben in one of the side rooms trying to avoid his father. When his father tried to come in to find him, you lied and said you hadn't seen Ben.

And when his mother died two years later, Ben would show up some nights, scaling the large tree outside your window to stay with you. He never wanted to talk about it and you never asked, instead you talked about everything else until you both fell asleep.

You felt your heart thud loudly in your chest and a familiar warmth tracing lightly against your skin when you lock eyes with him. It was hard to be in love with your best friend. But you were, and you couldn't tell him. You didn't want to ruin the only meaningful relationship you'd ever had in your life. Ben knew everything about you, you trusted him and you couldn't imagine what it would be like to live your life without him, didn't want to.

Sometimes you hoped he felt the same way. When you woke up before him in the morning and the light from the window made his hair lighter and he held you close to his chest because in his sleep he had wrapped his arm around you. You liked to pretend that he did it on purpose, not just because there was barely any room between the two of you in your bed because now you both weren't as small as you used to be. You don’t know when Ben got so broad, tall, and muscular, but now it was impossible to ignore, especially being pressed against his chest when you woke.

It was improper to be that close in bed together of course, but you didn't care. You didn't care what other people thought about him or you. He was your best friend, and although you wished for more, you wouldn't turn your back on him just because other people thought he was trouble.

Which he was.

You put your sketchbook down and go to the window to unlock it. "Ben what are you doing here?"

"I couldn't miss your birthday." He smirks as you take his hand to help him into your bedroom.

"What about school?"

"Wasn't a good fit." Ben pushes his dark hair out of his eyes and you try not to think about what it would be like to do it yourself.

"Uh-huh. What you're really saying is that you flunked out of another boarding school just to make it back for my birthday. Right?" You laugh.

"Thought it would be a nice birthday surprise." He leans forward with a smirk. "Would you like to unwrap your present?"

You roll your eyes and raise a hand to push him back, but he catches it against his chest.

"Come on. You're telling me that you didn't miss me? Not even a little?" Ben pretends to be hurt.

Of course you missed him. When he wasn't there it felt like apart of you was gone, but you couldn't tell him that. You knew that Ben didn't feel the same way. He was just flirty, all the time.

"No."

"Liar." He says. "How was the big party?"

"Oh it was the bee's knees." You snark. "I danced with Howard Stine and he stepped on my toes, my mother didn't let me eat and bought me a ridiculous dress-"

"Let me guess, pink?"

"Pink and ruffly. I looked like a giant cupcake."

"I'm sure Howard loved it." Ben sing-songs.

"Shut up." You punch his arm. "He's not that bad-"

"With a boring name like Howard, imagine how boring he'd be in-"

"Big talk from a guy named Benjamin." You interrupt.

The look in Ben's eyes darkens for a minute. "I'd be happy to prove you wrong."

You shake your head at him to stop the flush in your cheeks and avoid the way your breath catches in your chest at his words.

It would be so easy to give in to him, but you knew that Ben didn't see you that way. Ben had chased after anything and everything that caught his eye. If you were to give in, you were afraid of what would happen after. Ben was your best friend and if you crossed that line what would it mean?

"You're incorrigible."

"If that's another word for gorgeous then yes, yes I am."

You turn back to the bed and where your sketchbook waits, trying to calm your racing heart.

"But you don't want your birthday present?" Ben asks from behind you.

"What happened to you being the present?"

"I am a gift, but I did get you something."

You turn and see that Ben is holding out a package wrapped in gold paper a little bit larger than a book. Surprise momentarily spikes at the back of your mind. Ben had gotten you gifts in the past, but you hadn't expected one this year, especially since he just got out of boarding school.

"Did you steal it?" You ask, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Not this time."

You take the box from his hand and sit down on your bed to peel back the paper. "I can't believe you actually wrapped this."

"The saleswoman did. Now she was really-"

"Don't need to know." You shake your head with a smile, eyes still on the gift. When you finally pull back the paper you can't help but smile. It's a box of watercolor paints, a package of brushes, and a small pad of watercolor paper. "Ben-" You look up at him with a wide smile. "Thank you!"

"Do you like them?" Ben asks hesitantly, he looks almost nervous.

"I love them! I've never tried to paint before."

"I know. I remember said you wanted to try. Plus I thought you could do some nice nudes of me in color-" Ben smirks.

"Ben!" You snort.

“I’m just trying to help you learn how to draw anatomy.” He wets his lips with his tongue arching an eyebrow in a challenge. “Of course there are more fun ways that I could teach you that.”

“Ben!” You flush bright red.

“Sorry. Sometimes you’re too easy.”

“I don’t know why I put up with you.” You shake your head at him with a smile.

An odd look crosses his face, but it disappears as quickly as you see it.

"Honestly, thank you. I can't wait to try these out." You look back down at the paints, admiring the silver box they came in.

"You're welcome."

Ben hovers by the window at the edge of your room as if debating whether or not he should stay. After all these years you noticed that Ben had trouble with the idea that you genuinely wanted him there. You knew it stemmed from his father's constant disapproval and his father's constant need to push him away, and it made your heart break for him.

And yes, maybe Ben did fill his life with brief flings and alcohol, but he was still your Ben.

"You’re going to stay right? Because you’ve already missed my birthday and I’d like to know how you got kicked out of boarding school number five.”

He nods once a small smile quirking the edge of his lips before he removes the dark jacket with the embossed prestigious logo of the aforementioned boarding school. It catches on his shoulders and you look away before he can see your blush.

“Are you hungry?”

Ben shakes his head.

“Ben, when was the last time you put something in your stomach besides alcohol?” You raise an eyebrow. He couldn’t lie to you and you knew he was only saying no because he didn’t want you to have to creep downstairs in the dark and also because he didn’t want to admit that he was hungry.

“Earlier.” He says it with a shrug, looking down at the coat in his hands to avoid your gaze.

“Well I was going to go see if I could find some of that birthday cake anyway. I haven’t eaten since this morning and all I had was half a grapefruit.”

“Another diet?” Ben frowns.

“Mother thinks I can slim down a little more. Says that I’d get more suitors if my hips were not so big.” You try not to dwell too much on it, you’d been dealing with your mother’s constant berating since you were born. The corset you’d worn at the party was so tight that it left bruises on your hips and under your arms, but your mother had been pleased with how it looked. “She won’t be happy until I’m thinner than a chicken bone I suppose.” Instead of looking at Ben you stand and turn to look at yourself in the full length mirror in the corner. You never thought that your hips were too big or that your chest was, yes you were more curvy than any of your friends but you liked it.

"You shouldn't listen to her."

You shrug.

"I'm serious y/n. You're-" Ben stops talking.

"What?" You turn to look at him again eyes wide and open.

"Well you're-" Ben looks nervous again, tightening his hands on the dark jacket. He swallows. "You're not fat." Ben finishes.

"Well I don't think I'm fat Ben, but thank you." You can't help but be a little disappointed with his answer, you were hoping that he would say that you were beautiful.

My mother thinks I’m fat. You try not to wince when you think it, but instead you focus back on Ben.

"Alright, stay here. Try not to wake my parents up."

"Trust me that's the last thing on my mind doll."

*************************************************

Thank you for reading! If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series let me know. :)

Taglist: @roseblue373

#jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys #the boys fanfic #soldier boy #the boys amazon #jensen ackles #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy fic #soldier boy fanfiction #the boys series

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mistydeyes · 1 year

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Hey, Hope you're having a good day or night wherever you are.

Can I request a headcanon about 141 with a female reader who likes to draw and sketch a lot? Platonic ofc.

thanks anon, hope you have a good ____ as well <3 i used to be a sketch/artist girl so this was so cute to write :)

an artist’s touch

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: When you aren’t on the field, you are an avid artist of multiple mediums. It isn’t brought up much but once it is, the 141 has plenty of questions (and even some requests).

pairing: Taskforce 141 x platonic!fem!reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of blood/violence

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

tbh when you first joined, they didn’t know much about your hobby (being part of a specialized task force is busy yk?)

but it was revealed when you finally were granted leave and you discussed your plan upon your return home

“my first stop is going to be to cass art :)”

immediate cacophony of “you draw?” “you’re an artist?” “have you ever drawn us before!”

after a few minutes you quelled all of their questions (“yes, yes, and i literally joined 4 months ago and haven’t had access to a pencil”)

ghost comments, “make sense why you’re so good at stabbing people”

“god you’re so morbid ghost”

when back on base, you were shy to show you’re talents but you eventually relaxed the more you were with your teammates

eventually you began to bring out your sketchbook or paints out when you were relaxing after a mission or training session

once in a while, someone will tell you your work is amazing but if you’re in the zone, they’ll leave you alone

one time price accidentally left his mug too close to your paint cup and you ended up swirling your brush into it

queue a long lecture about how you should pay more attention (but who am i kidding that coffee is so strong he probably didn’t notice)

you humored soap and drew what you thought the real simon riley looked like

ghost snuck a peek and one of the drawings was surprisingly accurate

speaking of which, you may or may not have used your teammates as drawing references but you’ll never tell

gaz just has such angular features which makes drawing his figure so easy

mans looks like a walking drawing figure

it’s relaxing to let your mind wander and hands do the work as you fill a page or canvas

painting at home in your studio helps you to unwind from the grueling job

once, you sketched a few designs for gaz when he mentioned wanting to get a tattoo

“i don’t know gaz this is permanent” “i’ve seen your sketches and they’re amazing! just send me a few designs”

he landed on a cool watercolor piece you had made months ago

after your design, you would all joke about how you would redesign ghost’s tattoo

“Lt. that shit is heinous, just let me draw you a coverup” “no.”

while you don’t accept commissions anymore, you did gift your captain a painting of his favorite secluded lake scenery

he has it hanging in the foyer of his elegant flat

while you don’t really exchange gifts, everyone knows what they would get you

ghost has taken special attention to the brand of pencil you use and the gouache paintings that litter your quarters

everyone likes to joke w you on the comms

“hey do you think you could paint a picture with the blood of your enemies?” “jesus! soap…but yes i could”

#task force 141 x reader #task force 141 #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod mwii #modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #madebyizzie #141 headcanons #mw2 headcanons #mw2 #izzie is writing

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dystopicjumpsuit · 8 months

Text

Someday

A/N: Happy Cody Day!

Pairing: Commander Cody x Reader (GN)

Rating: T

Wordcount: 526

Warnings and tags: straight fluff; established secret/forbidden relationship.

Summary: You enjoy a quiet morning with the man you are absolutely not supposed to be with.

Suggested listening:

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

Shore leave mornings were your favorite. They were too rare, these golden, stolen moments with Cody when you didn’t need to sneak past security holocams or explain your presence outside the marshal commander’s quarters to overzealous troopers patrolling the hallways of the Negotiator. Mornings like these were to be savored, and you hoarded them like the precious treasure they were. No comlinks, no datapads. Just slow, lazy hours sipping caf that hadn’t come from an industrial machine and reveling in the quiet intimacy of time alone with your lover.

Cody was reading a volume of Venestrian poetry—an actual flimsi edition he’d found in some charity shop in the Mid-Levels. You lay on the sofa with your legs draped across his lap, dabbling lazily with a piece of charcoal in your sketchbook. At that precise moment, you were trying to capture the exact way the warm sunlight filtering through the sheer curtains caught on the planes of his cheekbones and cast deep shadows on the hollows of his face. It was a futile task if ever there was one, but still, it gave you an excuse to admire him openly.

The only sounds were the soft scratch of charcoal on paper, the occasional rustle of a turning page, and the music playing quietly from your favorite holoradio station. The song ended, and a new one began, its melody hauntingly familiar.

“I love this song,” you murmured absently.

He glanced at you, then set aside his book. “Dance with me.”

“Hmm?” you asked, startled.

“Dance with me,” he repeated in a low voice.

He tugged the sketchbook gently out of your hand, then trailed his fingers up your wrist. With a tiny smile, you shifted your legs off his lap, and he stood, offering his hand to help you up. He pulled you to your feet and seamlessly into his arms, swaying in time to the slow beat just as the singer’s lovely, wistful voice joined the instruments.

“Is that Ryl?” he asked.

“Yes,” you replied. “She’s singing about…”

You trailed off, keenly self-conscious about your tendency to monologue. He smoothed his hand up your shoulder and stroked his thumb across your clavicle softly.

“Tell me,” he whispered. “What is she saying?”

“She’s singing about all the lovely, distant places she wishes to see—Naboo; the temple ruins at Jedha, Cantonica; Scarif; Rugosa. She wants to experience them all instead of just staying at home on Coruscant.”

“Does she ever go?” he asked.

“No. It’s a song about longing, not about doing.”

“That sounds sad.”

You considered for a moment. “I don’t think it’s sad or happy, either one.”

“No?”

“It’s more like daydreaming or wishing.”

He gazed pensively into your eyes, tracing his thumb up the side of your throat. “Is that what you wish for?”

You shrugged. “It's not like we haven't seen our share of the galaxy.”

“I wouldn't exactly call what we do sightseeing,” he observed drily.

“True,” you laughed. “Maybe when the war is over, we can see it together.”

“Mmm.” He pressed his lips to your forehead. “Sounds nice. No more fighting. No more hiding. No more pretending.”

“I know,” you sighed. “Someday.”

Taglist:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly @lightwise @swcowgal @reader6898 @cdblake1565 @epicy0n @codyday2224

#Cody Day #Cody Day 2224 #Coday #commander cody #commander cody x reader #gn reader #star wars #the clone wars #sw tcw fanfic #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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starboykel · 3 months

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an artist and his muse ⭑⚝

artist! König x chubby!F!reader

!!content warnings: nudity, suggestive but nothing happens, Konig is slightly cold and rude, shaving, reader is described as 'plump' 'chubby'. Slow burn.

3,6k words — english isn't my first language, I apologize for any mistakes !

You were the daughter of a model, your father in his youngers was a famous model, modelling for artists and his body was practically all over Austria, in paintings, portraits, movies, you name it! Every slightly artistic place you went he was there. He was more famous in Austria than internacionally but he was still famous, a bunch of people would recognize him even in a small country, that was sure... And you were an introvert.

You didn't liked the attention, how everyone's eyes were always on you, trying to interview you, to get into your personal life and invading your space. You never meet your mother and the fact you looked a lot like your father didn't helped, apparently, you mother was an immigrant that got deported back to her country and her DNA was nowhere to be found... So you lived all your life with your father, Anton. You were half Austrian and half whatever your mother was, you didn't looked like an stereotypical Austrian girl, that was sure but you also didn't fit any other stereotype, making your beauty unique...

One thing was sure, the few genes that were in your body from your mother made a difference. While you father was more muscular, you were more plump, chubby. You father never bodyshamed you but he did made your exercise but you could never lose the weight, you weren't unhealthy you just... Couldn't change your body and surgery was out of question, your father never needed one, why would you?

One day, you decided to try modelling. Starting at something small since you didn't liked the spotlights, you model for a local clothes store that were looking for bigger model and just your last name made them immediately accept you. You just took a few photos and done, you made great money and was happy.

You decided to buy something sweet before going back home, you get inside a ice-cream parlor and orders your favorite milkshake and some donuts. You sit down on one of the comfy pink chairs and starts eating... Then, this wall of a man walks in, he had a long wavy ginger hair, a tired expression and glasses on, he was handsome, you can't deny it. He orders some sundae and sits down, waiting.

He takes off a sketchbook and starts sketching some poses and expressions. You decides to be nosy and peeks on it but he notices and closes the notebook, "oh sorry- I'm...I was just intrigued... Sorry." You apologizes, thinking you might have made him uncomfortable but then his sundae is ready and he stands up to grab it and then walks out of the parlor. You sigh and goes back to your donut.

You finished and just then you noticed, the man had forgotten his sketchbook. You grab it and opens it, he had a lot of drawings there, that man had so much talent, hot and smart? That's your type. His signature was almost unreadable but you can make a few letter out of it and assumes its something along the lines of 'König'... Well, king. You assume it's just a nickname, a bunch of artists has those artistic names just to be easily recognized and such. You liked how that sounds, 'König'...

You grabbed his sketchbook and starts walking around the city, looking for him but you couldn't find him anywhere, he could've took an Uber and already be in another city and you were there, with his random guy sketchbook... You take a closer look and finds at one of the last pages, 'If lost — call (xxxxxxxx)' and then a phone number. You dial the number on your cellphone and after a few seconds, it's accepted.

"Hello?" "Hello, hm... Is this König?" "Ja." You gulps, this man had only spoke two words and you were already falling in love with his deep voice.

"Uh... You were at the ice cream parlor earlier and you forgot your sketchbooks, I'm waiting here on front of it, I'm with it." You explains and it goes silent for a while. "Scheisse..." Then, he hangs out, leaving you confused. You assume he's coming, so you stay there.

...

You get distracted by your phone, spending time on whatever social media you were until you heard a raspy voice behind you, "Hey." You jump in surprise, looking at the guy behind... It was the big guy, "oh hey..." You replies and he reaches out for the sketchbook, in which you give him.

You two stare at each other until you can see him frowning under the mask, "You're... Anton's daughter?" He questions and you nods, his eyes widen slightly. "Mein gott... You're identical to him." He says, a bit amazed, you were beautiful but he thought you would be somewhere else, at a fancier ice cream parlor, where the ice creams would be so expensive a commoner like him wouldn't never even feel the sweet taste of the cold dessert... But you were in front of him, at a mediocre at best ice cream parlor, looking up at him with your pretty eyes.

"Everyone says that, you're not the first." You spoke, smiling up at him. "Oh by the way, what's your name? I saw here that is König but-" "Call me that." "Uh?" "König... My name is König." He interrupts you a few times, making you chuckles. "Well... You aleady know my name." You replies and he nods, "Who doesn't?" He jokes and laughs softly, making you giggle.

You look up at him. He wasn't an ugly guy, no, he was quite handsome actually, his smile was even prettier, the scar on his lips was such a charm and his tired eyes were so hypnotizing... You noticed you were staring for too long and looks back down, blushing slightly, getting embarrassed. "Sorry- I-i...I'm just intrigued, you're so tall and big." You excuses, gesturing confused, trying to explain yourself. He shakes his head, "I don't care." He says, a bit harshly, "I need to go, delete my number. Bye." He starts walking away before you could say goodbye back and question why he wanted you to delete his number... But you do as what he asked.

⚝

A few weeks passed by after the unusual encounter with the scary big artist guy at the ice cream parlor. You went to that same ice cream parlor practically everyday after modeling but he never came back.

One day, you were walking in the park, just looking around, petting some cats here and there, watching the ducks swimming and then you notice that same guy, with a canvas, painting the lake with the duck. He had his hair tied back this time, he notices you at the other side of the lake and looks at you for a moment before going back to the canvas. You quietly approached him, you weren't the only one watching him paint, 2 or 3 more people watching, one of them with a child but you were the only one there when he finished, at 6pm.

He stares at it. He doesn't look like someone that likes what he sees as he frowns slightly. "I think it looks good." You steps in, looking at the painting, a gentle breeze passing by, making you shiver, "oh, I forget how cold Austria can be sometimes..." You says, a bit embarrassed. He doesn't even look at you as he keeps eyeing the canvas, trying to figure how what he did wrong. He stares at it for a few minutes until it clicked... The ducks, he forgot the ducks but it was already late and he had to come back tomorrow to try again. He starts packing his thing while you rambled, he wasn't even paying attention. He walks away without looking at you.

"Rude..." You sighs and whispers to yourself until another cold breeze comes and you start running back home desperately.

Your father was at the living room when you got back home, "You forgot your hoodie?" He says, not taking the eyes out of the book he was reading, "I didn't know it would be that cold today." You replies. "It was all over the news, tonight it's a snow night." Your father says and before you could reply, he interrupts, "The bathtub it's filled with warm water, go take a shower, you smell bad." He complains. You rolls your eyes and goes to the bathroom.

You grab your cellphone before stepping into the bathtub, you always liked listening to music while cleaning yourself — even if your father complained —, you put on your favorite playlist but then, you receive a message. It was the clothe store you modelled for the last time.

"Hey, are you free next weekend? We need you to model some new skirts, shirts and sweaters for our winter season." It reads, you reply with a 'yes' and they send you the informations about the time and place.

⚝

The week passed by like a minute and it was already the weekend. You got ready for the photoshoot, took a shower, the hairstylists fixed your hair and you went to try on the new clothes, they were cute and really warm, the skirts had warm shorts sew on them, making a good job on protection and keeping the person warm, the sweaters were cute and really, really warm, the long sleeved shirts had a cute print on it. The photoshoot was at the park, they closed an area of the park so you could take the photos, you were really nervous since a lot of people were watching you pose and the snow was making everything harder, the cameraman having to often clean the lenses even with the lense protection because the thin snow was getting underneath it.

Everything went well, the photos were pretty, you were amazing and the clothes were ready to be sold, you even got a few of them! You were getting ready to leave the park when someone approached you... It was the big guy from a few days ago. He just... Stared at you, he hands you a paper and then walk away, he didn't even ran, he just... Simply, walked away, leaving you confused.

You opened the paper and it was... A bunch of sketches of the poses you were making during the photoshoot and a big sketch of you, even the smallest detail of the skirt and oh god, how did he made the sweater look so comfy with just a bunch of lines? Your eyes were practically shining, impressed by the amount of details. You noticed a phone number on the back of the paper, 'call me.' it says. You think for a moment and puts the paper on your backpack carefully.

⚝

It was 10pm when you got home, exhausted. The day was filled with you and the editor of the magazine of the clothe store, he was a new guy there and was always asking for your feedback, the only problem was that he talked a lot! He was talented, amazing, but he just couldn't shut up for a minute and you had to listen to his annoying rambling for hours to the point you started having a headache.

When you got home, you took some headache meds and took a warm shower, cleaned your hair and put on your pajamas. You practically jumped on the bed, the warm temperature of your room making you immediately fall asleep.

⚝

You woke up at 7am Went to the kitchen and you found a note, from your father, 'I went to Mödling, gonna meet a woman. Take care of yourself. There's money on my room, be safe and smart.' it wrote. You rolls your eyes and sighs, your father was always like this, went to another place, minutes, hours or even days away just to meet someone, it always annoyed you but you couldn't do anything, you're in your 20s and he was in his 50s, changing him wasn't easy and he absolutely loved his car, you think he loves that car more than he loves you... But at 7am?! He was crazy.

Anyway, you made some breakfast for yourself, something simple as you were just going to stay at home today. You were planning to just lay around and watch TV the whole day, you really wanted to watch that new series on Netflix... But then you remembered the paper the big guy gave you and the number on it. You decided to message him while you ate, not really thinking he would answer you, it was 7am after all...

'Hey, it's Anton's daughter, the model girl :) how are you?' you sends and then goes back to eating.

It took a few minutes but he texted back, 'hey'... Dry and simple as always. You two texted for a few minutes until he eventually went straight to the point.

'i need a model and I saw you at the park, you're perfect for what i want to do, how much do you ask for an hour?' He sends, you were taken by surprise, he wants you to model for him? Yeah, sure, whatever, that's what it's paying for bills for a long time now. 'how much are you willing to pay?' '€30/hour.' you think for a moment, €30 is fine but you don't know how long it is going to take... So you ask. 'How long it would take?' '4-5 hours.' oh wow, that was a quick response, he probably already has all your questions answered and you're just wasting your time now.

'when and where?' 'today at 10am, at the local museum, i have a room for myself there, it has cameras, you can call a friend if you want if it makes your feel safer with me, I just want to get my work done.' another quick response, you send him a thumbs up and he answered with an 'okay'.

You finished eating, washed the dishes, did your bed, organized the living room and took a shower, you don't often shave but you decided to shave your legs, arms and armpits. Exfoliating your skin gently and then using the soft razor that was like a massage on your skin, soft and gentle, then moisturizing with a cream for post-shave that smelled so good you were addicted.

It was 9:40am, you got dressed with something simple, simple jeans short, a white shirt and some comfortable shoes and socks, everything so simple that if someone saw you at the streets they couldn't even know your dad is one of the most famous men in Austria. You got into your bike and starts riding to the museum while listening to some music.

You arrived at the museum at 9:57am, took off your headphones and headed inside, König was there, waiting for you. You two looked at each other. "Hey." You says and he motions for you to follow him. He leads you to a backroom, filled with art supplies such as empty canvas, paints, a bunch of brushes, chair and such.

He takes a deep breath, "take off your clothes." He says, shocking you. Like, you don't even know his real name and he wants to see you naked?... Yeah, sure, that's what being a model means. You nods and takes off your clothes, staying on your bra and panties. He stares at your body for a moment but it doesn't look like he's looking at you lustful or like something sexual but rather as something to be studied and adored. He nods and explains you how to pose.

He sits you in the edge of a chair, putting your hands on your knees, 'the palms down' he repeats, tilting your head a bit to the left side, letting your hair fall in your shoulders, placing the right leg over the left one and arching your spine a bit.

After 40 minutes or so, you couldn't tell the time, you started to get bored, he wasn't talking to you and making small talk was useless, that man was concentrated and didn't want to talk. "Hey." You say and he doesn't even look at you, "hey... Heeey!!" He then looks at you, sounding a bit frustrated, "what?" "Can you turn the TV on? I'm bored." He sighs and turns on the TV, putting on a random sitcom. It was good, too good, you starts chuckling and giggling at the bad jokes, smiling and probably ruining the neutral expression he wanted you to keep.

He shakes his head, "You seem to be enjoying yourself." He commented, not leaving his eyes out of you and the canvas. "It's not everyday i pose practically naked for an artist i met at an ice cream parlor." You answered and he even smiles a bit.

"Thats true." He replies and continues on the painting, after a few minutes, you opened your mouth again. "Do you work with your art?" You asks, he nods, "I do commissions, people pay me to paint then and I have my own little exhibition on the museum." He replies, brushing the canvas talentedly, seeming a bit more good humored.

"Do you paint a lot of naked people or is it just me?" You asks, smiling and König laughs a bit. "I've had my fair share of naked paintings, you're not the first one and probably not the last." He laughed but it didn't last long until his cold expression came back. His expressions change so quickly it's actually impressive.

⚝

You were getting tired, your butt was hurting of sitting down on that goddamn chair for so long and your hand was itching and the sitcom was getting bored, how long has it passes? 2 hours, 3 hours? Before you could fall asleep, König speaks, "We are gonna do a pause now, it's..." He looks at the clock, "It's 1pm, I'm gonna get us some lunch. Put your back on if you wish." He stated and put the brush and palette he was using on the table next to the canvas. You grab your clothing and puts it back on, it was good to put your clothes back on, you stepped outside and... Oh, it was snowing again and you didn't had your hoodie with you, damn.

You followed König to a cafeteria, it was a simple and cute little place with not a lot of people and a cheap selfservice. You got just spaghetti and orange juice and König... His plate was a mess, honestly, and he was drinking water. You decided to start some small talk, "How old are you?" You ask. "32." He replied, more focused on eating than answering you, you nodded, taking the hint that he doesn't want to talk but at least now you know his age. And you two got back to the museum after eating at 1:40pm.

⚝

Hours passed by like a minute and all of a sudden, he was finished with the painting and you were tired and it was just 5pm! He grabbed the canvas to the outside to dry while you put your clothes back on and drank some water. You went outside to the garden, where he was with the painting and you finally got a look at the canva... It was amazing, beautiful, you were mesmerized, your eyes shining but then, the cold breeze hits you again, slapping you out of your state, "Oh, shit-" you complained, hugging yourself to keep warm.

König looks at you and sighed, he approached you and took off his jacket and wrapped it around you, "I'll take you home. It's not safe to ride a bike in the snow." He says and leads you outside, you nods and follows him, putting on his warm jacket. He opens the car's door to you, what a gentleman.

You tell him his address and he starts driving, the bike on the car trunk, the warmer of the car keeping you two warm and a music coming out of the radio. It took a few minutes to get home and you the two of you got there, what was just a simple snow turned into a snow storm, you didn't thought twice when you insisted to visit him inside... But he refused.

"I can go home. I'll be fine." He insisted, "No, c'mon, I'll make some coffee for us, I- "I said no." He says, as cold as the snow, he walks away like the first time you two meet at the ice cream parlor. You were frustrated, all of that, he saw you naked, he payed for your food, he drove you home and he wouldn't let you return the favor? "Rude!" You shouts and he turns back to you, looking a you frowning, "What's wrong with you? I just want to help! It's a snow storm, you're gonna get stuck in the snow! Let me return the favor, König!" You shouts, the sound of the wind muffling your voice slightly. He seemed to think for a moment when he starts walking back to you and get inside your house.

König took a deep breath and looks at you as you locked the door and took off your shoes. "Why?" He asks and you looks up at him, "what-" "Why are you helping me? Why do you care?" He interrupts, sounding a bit desperate, damn, who hurt this man? "I couldn't let you freeze outside, you'd die." You replies, turning on the warmer. It was just 6:30pm and you were hungry and delivery was out off limit so you would have to cook. He nods and sits down on the couch, looking nervous.

You went to the kitchen and starts to cut some vegetables, he quietly walks behind you, "can I help?" He offered his help and you give him the meat, "Cut it, season it with salt and add it to the oil in the frying pan." You practically ordered, focused on the vegetables. He does as you asked, you two talk while cooking and you discovered a few things about him. He was single, served the army for 10 years, was an only child and was allergic to peanuts and some other things. His smile was beautiful and his long hair falling on his broad shoulders was so handsome... He was handsome!

You and König sat down to eat looking at each other, "Hm- you put too much salt on the meat." You commented and he smiles, "sorry." He apologizes. You two eat mostly in silence and it was already 7:50pm when the plates were empty and the dishes were clean. You helped König organize the guest room for him, finally fixing the broken warmer of the room with his help, you gave him a disposable toothbrush and grabbed a few clothes from your dad so König could shower.

It was 9:20pm, König was sleeping and you were on your room... Feeling a warm sensation on your chest, it was love, it was obvious but you don't know if he loves you back, he was so hard to understand, difficult to read. You took a deep breath and tried to relax, you fell asleep after some long minutes.

⚝

You woke up at 8am and went to the living room, you saw König getting ready to leave. He looks at you, "Hey." He says, "Thank you for letting me sleep here tonight." He added, you nods. You approached him and gives him a hug, "Be safe out there, okay?" You says and he returns the hug, in a bold movement, he kisses you forehead and smiles, "Bye... Can you open the door?" You nods, blushing slightly, you open the door and steps ouside, the snow practically melted, he waves at you and smiles, "Bye!" You waves back, smiling and blushing. You close the door and sighs happily, your heart beating fast, your face red and a dumb smile on your face.

Well, you have things to do, so it's best to forget him for now. For now.

┄┄ ︰ ┄୨୧┄ ︰ ┄┄

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#call of duty #cod #cod x reader #fluff #könig #konig call of duty #konig x reader #konig cod #konig x you #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #call of duty konig #konig x chubby reader #chubby reader

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mononijikayu · 4 months

Text

lonely in gorgeous – ryomen sukuna.

In that small moment, you allowed yourself to indulge in a bit of nostalgia, thinking about the paths you both had taken. You hoped he was happy and successful, thriving in the world he had always been so passionate about. And though you doubted you would ever hear from him again, you couldn't help but wonder if he ever thought about you, if he ever missed the days when you were his muse, and he was your world.

GENRE: alternate universe - fashion au!

WARNING/S: alternate universe - canon convergence, modern au, fashion au!, rated 18 and above, age gap (reader is in 20s and sukuna is in his 30s), explicit content, smut, p to v sex, flirting, romance, humor, strangers to lovers, lovers to strangers, break up, time skip (ten years later);

LISTEN: lonely in gorgeous by tommy february6

NOTE: this is probably my second favorite so far. because i keep thinking of hiromi and sukuna throughout but modern au??? i loved this a lot because its based on paradise kiss, which i think is one of the stories i loved in a long time. it makes me wanna rewatch paradise kiss. i'm very happy with this one. i hope you enjoy it as much as i do <3333

masterlist

kayu's playlist — side 700;

IT STARTED OUT IN A WAY YOU DIDN’T EXPECT. The setting sun painted the sky in hues of orange and pink, casting long shadows across the grassy expanse of the park. You sat on the bench, surrounded by the cacophony of rustling leaves and distant chatter, the weight of your textbooks heavy on your lap. Each page seemed to blur together, the words melding into an incomprehensible jumble as exhaustion gnawed at the edges of your mind.

As you stared at the pages before you, the thought of continuing down this path weighed heavily on your shoulders. This degree, chosen by your mother, felt more like a burden than a choice. It was her dream, her unfinished journey that you were expected to fulfill. Yet, with each passing day, the realization grew stronger within you that it wasn't your dream at all. It was a legacy you were expected to carry, a path laid out for you by someone else's ambitions.

The thought left you feeling adrift, caught between the expectations of others and the yearning for something more. The park, with its tranquil beauty, offered a brief respite from the chaos of your thoughts. Here, amidst the gentle sway of the trees and the soft rustle of leaves, you found a fleeting sense of peace, a momentary escape from the pressures of academia and familial expectations.

The figure at the nearby table commanded attention, his presence as enigmatic as it was compelling. Ryomen Sukuna, renowned fashion designer, his reputation preceded him like a shadow cast by the setting sun. His tall, imposing frame was a stark contrast to the tranquil surroundings of the park, yet there was an undeniable magnetism to his presence.

As he sat hunched over his sketchbook, his expression was one of intense concentration, his fingers moving deftly across the page in a frenzied dance. The lines he etched upon the paper seemed to materialize effortlessly, each stroke a testament to his skill and creativity. But beneath the surface, there was a simmering frustration, a sense of discontent that lingered like a shadow in the corners of his mind.

For Sukuna, the park had become an unlikely refuge, a sanctuary of sorts where he could retreat from the relentless demands of his craft. Here, amidst the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant murmur of city life, he sought solace in the simplicity of nature, hoping to unearth the spark of inspiration that had eluded him for so long.

Intrigued by the sight of you, Ryomen Sukuna couldn't tear his gaze away. The exhaustion etched into your features, mingled with an unmistakable determination, spoke volumes to him, drawing him in like a moth to a flame. With a sense of curiosity piqued by the contrast of your presence against the backdrop of the park, he found himself compelled to approach you.

With confident strides, he closed the distance between you, his sketchpad clutched in one hand as though it were a precious treasure. There was a magnetic pull in his demeanor, an air of authority and intrigue that seemed to precede him like a gentle breeze, stirring the stillness of the evening air.

As he neared, his gaze never wavered from you, his eyes scanning your form with a keen sense of observation. It was as though he were studying a masterpiece, seeking to unravel the secrets hidden within the intricate tapestry of your being. And when he finally reached your side, there was a subtle shift in the atmosphere, a tension that crackled between you like electricity waiting to ignite.

“Hey,” he said, his voice a mix of curiosity and determination. You looked up, startled by the sudden interruption. “Would you like to model for me?”

Confused, you furrowed your brows. “Model? I’m not a model. I’m just a student.”

Sukuna’s eyes glinted with a hint of amusement. “Doesn’t matter. I want you to be my model.”

You stared at him, still trying to process the odd request. “But… Why me?”

He shrugged, a small smile playing on his lips. “I don’t know yet. But there’s something about you. I can’t explain it. Just think about it.”

Your mind buzzed with confusion as you watched Ryomen Sukuna retreat, leaving you to grapple with the unexpected encounter. His enigmatic demeanor left you feeling both intrigued and bewildered, as though you had stumbled into a world of mysteries waiting to be unraveled.

His simple yet cryptic words lingered in the air, echoing in your mind like an elusive melody. "There's something about you," he had said, a statement that sparked a flurry of questions within you. What did he see in you that prompted such a request? What hidden depths did he perceive beneath the surface of your tired facade?

As you held his business card in your hand, its sleek surface cool against your skin, you couldn't help but feel a surge of curiosity stirring within you. What harm could come from entertaining the idea, if only for a moment? With a sense of hesitancy tinged with intrigue, you tucked the card into your pocket, a silent promise to explore the mysterious invitation further.

The sun hung low in the sky as you made your way back to the park, the familiar sight of Ryomen Sukuna sketching under the shade of a tree drawing you closer. With each step, your heart quickened, a mixture of apprehension and excitement swirling within you.

As you approached him, Sukuna glanced up from his sketchpad, a small smile gracing his lips. "Back again, I see," he remarked, his voice smooth and confident.

You nodded, unable to suppress the curiosity that burned within you. "I couldn't stay away," you admitted, your tone tinged with a hint of uncertainty.

Sukuna's gaze softened, a flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "I thought as much," he replied, his attention returning to his sketch. "Have you given any more thought to my offer?"

You hesitated, the memory of his cryptic request still fresh in your mind. "I'm not sure I understand what you see in me," you confessed, your voice tinged with a mixture of curiosity and self-doubt.

Sukuna looked up, his gaze meeting yours with a piercing intensity. "Sometimes, it's not about understanding," he replied cryptically. "It's about embracing the unknown. You won’t be able to live a life like this without embracing what makes life so hard, you know.”

“Why do you keep asking me?” you demanded of him. “I’m just a burnt out college student. What do I have to offer?”

Sukuna looked up from his sketchpad, his expression serious. “Because you’re my muse.”

The words hung in the air, and you felt a strange thrill at the idea. Despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself agreeing to his request.

"I suppose……I could give it a try." you finally conceded, a hint of uncertainty still lingering in your voice. “What do I have to lose at this point?”

Sukuna's smile widened, a spark of satisfaction flickering in his eyes. "Excellent." he replied, a note of excitement creeping into his tone. "Trust me, you won't regret it."

“I hope not.”

“Little muse, you should pose on the other side.” He says to you. “I need to get your hair right for this one.”

You nodded at him. You couldn’t help but ponder at his words for a moment, the weight of their meaning sinking in. He called you his muse. He needed you as his muse. You didn’t know why you agreed, but you knew you really had nothing to lose. And this gives you something to do, other than being miserable about your college life.

There was something about Sukuna, you couldn’t point it out even if you tried. But you knew that there was an air of mystery surrounding Sukuna that both intrigued and unnerved you. But despite your reservations, you found yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

Because it was quite easy to see for you.

You think he was about to change your life.

And little did you know, you were right.

The following weeks were quite a hurricane storm. You were quite the spectator to Sukuna’s creativity. Everything about how he worked was something you had never seen before. He was always so full of passion, everything about it was electric. His energy was infectious, and you found yourself caught up in his world.

You posed for him in various outfits he made each and every week, each one more daring and unconventional than the last. Despite his notorious reputation, Sukuna was surprisingly patient with you. He encouraged you, challenged you, and celebrated your progress.

At first, it was hard adjusting to it all. You didn’t know if you actually had it in you to pull these clothes off. But he kept talking to you about each and every story the dress made and more and more, each piece of clothing he made for you to try and model in was clothes that slowly became your friend.

He pushed you out of your comfort zone, and you discovered slowly but surely, you came to realize that there was passion in you too, as much as there was the bounty of potential and confidence that was just waiting to be nurtured and waiting to blossom.

The connection between you two grew stronger, and you began to understand why he had chosen you. Your exhaustion and determination, your raw, unpolished presence, was exactly what he needed to reignite his creativity. One evening, after a particularly intense session, you found yourself sitting beside him over glasses of wine, watching the city lights flicker in the distance.

As you sat beside Sukuna, watching him sketch with newfound clarity, you couldn't help but feel a sense of validation wash over you. You watch him pour another glass on your glass and then his.

"I think I'm starting to get it," you admitted, breaking the comfortable silence between you.

Sukuna glanced up from his sketchpad, a pleased smile gracing his lips. "Told you, little muse." he replied, his voice tinged with satisfaction. "There's something about you that's just... captivating."

“Oh don’t flatter me that way.”

His words echoed in the dimly lit room, punctuated by the clinking of glasses and the soft hum of conversation. Sukuna's eyes held a glimmer of sincerity as he spoke, his grin genuine as he savored the moment.

"You've brought something back to life in me," he repeated, his voice carrying a weight of truth. It was a confession, raw and unguarded, revealing a vulnerability that belied his usual stoic demeanor. “I’m thankful.”

As you watched him, a warmth spread through your chest, your heart swelling with a mixture of pride and affection. To know that you had played a part in rekindling Sukuna's passion, in breathing life into his creativity, filled you with a sense of purpose unlike anything you had ever felt before.

You chuckled softly, feeling a warmth spread through you at his words. "Well, I'm glad I could help," you said, sincerity lacing your tone. "And who knows, maybe this could be the start of something great."

Sukuna's gaze softened, a glimmer of gratitude shining in his eyes. "I have a feeling it will be," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “Well, it already is, if I’m being honest.”

“Why me, really?” you asked softly as you take in the image of him. “Why did you choose me?”

Sukuna turned to you, his eyes reflecting the lights of the city. “Because you’re real. You’re not polished or perfect, and that’s what makes you beautiful. You remind me that inspiration can come from the most unexpected places.”

His words touched you deeply, and you realized that this experience had changed you. You were no longer just a burnt-out college student. You had become a muse, a source of inspiration, and in turn, you had found your own spark of creativity and passion. You were his muse, you were the essence of his wonder. As you looked at Sukuna, you could see he was looking at you.

In that moment, as Sukuna's gaze met yours, you felt a surge of emotion welling up inside you. It was as if the air between you crackled with an unspoken understanding, a shared connection that transcended words.

Without a word, Sukuna reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in closer. The warmth of his touch sent shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within you that burned brighter with each passing second.

And then, his lips met yours in a soft, tender kiss. It was a kiss filled with unspoken promises, a silent vow to cherish each other and the bond you shared. In that fleeting moment, time seemed to stand still as you lost yourself in the warmth of his embrace, the world around you fading into the background.

As you pulled away, breathless and flushed, you locked eyes with Sukuna once more, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. In that simple gesture, you both knew that this was just the beginning of something extraordinary, a journey filled with endless possibilities and boundless love.

"Wow," you whispered, your heart racing as you gazed into Sukuna's eyes. "I never knew..."

Sukuna's smirk was tinged with affection as he brushed his thumb lightly over your cheek. "You never knew what, my dear muse?"

"That you could make me feel this way," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "That you could make me feel... alive."

Sukuna's expression softened, his eyes reflecting the depth of his feelings for you. "You've brought out something in me that I thought was lost forever," he confessed. "And for that, I'll always be grateful, little muse.”

You could feel yourself echo in the shade of scarlet as you leaned in to press another gentle kiss to his lips, savoring the warmth and intimacy of the moment. He kissed you back, his hands encroaching against your jaw as he pulled you closer to him. In Sukuna's embrace, you felt a sense of belonging, a sense of completeness that you had never experienced before.

As you pulled away, a smile graced Sukuna's lips, his gaze filled with warmth and adoration. "Shall we continue to inspire each other, my dear muse?" he murmured, his voice low and husky.

With a nod and a smile, you intertwined your fingers with his, knowing that together, you were destined to create something truly extraordinary.

When you look at him, the city lights seem dull.

Ryomen Sukuna was brighter than everything else.

And you fell in love with everything in him more.

IT WAS ALL AN INTENSE WHIRLWIND. At every turn, Sukuna flaunted your presence, introducing you to his acquaintances and peers as his muse, the source of his inspiration. Your relationship with him flourished amidst the glamorous backdrop of high-profile parties and events, where you were the center of attention, admired for your natural allure and captivating presence.

In the eyes of Sukuna, you were not just a model or a companion; you were the embodiment of his artistic vision, the muse who breathed life into his designs and fueled his creativity. Together, you navigated the intricacies of the fashion world, of his world as you basked in the spotlight and forging a bond that transcended mere admiration.

As your connection with Sukuna deepened, the lines between your worlds began to blur. He used his extensive network to secure opportunities for you, arranging magazine features where you modeled the clothes he had painstakingly crafted. With each photoshoot and editorial spread, you became the living embodiment of his artistic vision, seamlessly blending into the world he had created.

As your career flourished under his guidance, you found yourself spending more and more time in Sukuna's presence. He became not just your mentor, but your confidant and companion, guiding you through the intricacies of the fashion industry with unwavering support and encouragement.

With Sukuna's help, you acquired your own manager and began to take on more jobs, each one bringing you further into the spotlight. You reveled in the attention, basking in the glow of success that seemed to follow wherever you went.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, the lines between both of your lives blurred almost imperceptibly. What began as occasional visits to his apartment soon transformed into a routine, with more nights spent in his space than in your own college dorm.

His apartment became a sanctuary of sorts, a place where you could escape the pressures and expectations of the outside world and simply be yourself. The familiar surroundings, infused with Sukuna's presence, offered a sense of comfort and security that you found nowhere else.

In Sukuna's world, time seemed to slow down, allowing you to savor each moment spent together. Whether it was cooking dinner together in the cozy kitchen, lounging on the couch as you watched movies late into the night, or simply sharing quiet conversations in the dim glow of lamplight, every experience felt like a precious gift.

And as you became more deeply entwined in Sukuna's life, you found yourself embracing aspects of his world that were once foreign to you. You attended glamorous parties and events by his side, proudly adorned with everything he made to fit only you. You enjoyed standing beside him as he spoke to other fashion connoisseurs, while you ended up mingling with fashion elites and modeling industry insiders who passed around their business cards to you one after the other.

But amidst the glitz and glamor, there were moments of vulnerability and intimacy that bound you together even more tightly. You realized that not everyone saw this part of the world Ryomen Sukuna orbited. You enjoyed his company, you enjoyed watching him pick apart fabrics all day.

You’ve seen him be frustrated with his work each and every day. You’ve seen him rush to you with delight when he thinks that it’s perfect enough for you to wear. In that whole two years, you found yourself sharing your hopes and dreams, your fears and insecurities, laying bare your soul in a way you never thought possible.

In the midst of the glamor and passion, there were also moments of turmoil and discord that tested the strength of your relationship. Arguments erupted over trivial matters, escalating into heated exchanges that left you both feeling wounded and raw. Tears were shed, words were spoken in anger, and the once serene sanctuary of Sukuna's apartment became a battleground for your conflicting emotions.

At times, it felt as though your lover was a tempestuous storm, his moods shifting unpredictably from blazing intensity to icy detachment. His affectionate gestures were often overshadowed by moments of aloofness, leaving you feeling bewildered and uncertain of where you stood in his heart.

But Sukuna was a complicated man, and his feelings for you were just as complex. He could be warm and affectionate one moment, then distant and cold the next. His hot-and-cold behavior left you confused and exasperated. There were times he seemed to take pleasure in toying with your emotions, pushing your boundaries, and testing your naivete.

In the midst of these turbulent emotions, Sukuna's behavior sometimes bordered on manipulative. He had a knack for using subtle tactics to exert control over you, whether it was through guilt-tripping, emotional manipulation, or even resorting to underhanded methods like calling your friends to inquire about your whereabouts without your knowledge.

These manipulative tendencies only added to the strain on your relationship, fostering a sense of distrust and resentment that simmered beneath the surface. Despite your love for Sukuna, there were moments when you questioned whether the tumultuous nature of your connection was worth the emotional toll it took on you.

Yet, even in the midst of the storm, there were moments of tenderness and vulnerability that reminded you why you fell in love with Sukuna in the first place. In the quiet moments of reconciliation, when apologies were whispered and forgiveness granted, you found solace in the depths of your shared connection, clinging to the hope that love would ultimately prevail over the trials and tribulations that threatened to tear you apart.

Leaving behind the familiarity of your college dorms for the sanctuary of Sukuna's apartment marked a significant turning point in your life. Graduation loomed on the horizon, a milestone that signified the culmination of years of hard work and dedication. Yet, amidst the celebrations and anticipation of what lay ahead, it was the quiet moments spent in Sukuna's arms that held the greatest allure.

With each passing day, your bond with Sukuna deepened, weaving itself into the very fabric of your existence. His apartment, once a temporary escape from the demands of college life, had now become your sanctuary, a refuge from the chaos of the outside world. Within its walls, you found solace and strength, a sense of belonging that transcended words.

The allure of Sukuna's presence was undeniable, you needed him. You knew there was no one else. You wanted him, all his ugly and dirty. In all his magnetic charm drawing you ever closer with each passing moment. In his arms, you found respite from the uncertainties and anxieties that plagued your mind, basking in the warmth of his affection and the reassurance of his love. You burned for him, as you always do.

Ryomen Sukuna could only smirk as you clenched around him. He was trying to be careful with you, it was your first time after all. He could see the way your face scrunched as he kissed you all over, trying to distract you from the pain. He lets himself coo at you as he gives your forehead a small kiss.

"There, there," he cooed softly, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "Just relax, sweetheart. I'll take care of you."

His words were like a balm to your nerves, calming you as you adjusted to the sensation. You nodded, allowing yourself to relax into his touch as the initial discomfort began to fade.

"I trust you.” you whispered, meeting his gaze with a mixture of vulnerability and affection.

“I know you do, baby.”

His harsh thrusts could only really make your head spin. You held tight to him, moaning against his shoulder, tears falling from your face. His throat let out low growls one after another as he pushes through the depths of you with each and every bottoming down into you. He feels like he is molding into you, as much as he’s molding you into him.

“Yer so good f’r me, aren’t you?” He groans against you, his body enveloping all around you, the sweat of you melting against his skin. “Go ‘n baby, keep making those sounds f’r me.”

You could feel overwhelmed as he changed your position, your belly resting on the bed, his cock still inside you. You felt your body rattle as much as the bed did as l his huge cock effortlessly bullies deep into your hole with vigorous excitement. You could not stop feeling your insides be like they’re on fire. You could feel yourself squeeze around him tightly.

His strong calloused hands wander below your chest, holding onto you the way he does with his fabrics — a sense of desire for the things that are beautiful. Soon enough, you could feel them strongly encroach against the will of your hips, fingers leaving imprints as they pressed hard against your skin. You could only squirm under his intense gaze.

You couldn’t even focus anymore as drool fell from your lips. You cry as you shake and shake against his touch. His rough kisses hurt, but you didn’t care. You let him paint his lips all over your body, those brutally vain beauty of lips touching every sensitive part of you. He grins as he watches you lose all sense. He watches you apart from him.

“My little muse, uh, y’r so good f’r me, aren’t you?” He says against your ear, letting out a moan. “I’ll make a good dress f’r you, a sequenced one? No, no, it’s going to be the same color of your skin. I’ll feast on it. I’m pretty sure. But I’m the only one who gets to see it. I’m the only one that gets to see you that way.”

“Y–yeah,” You mewl against him, lost in everything but pleasure. ‘’kuna, I’m feeling something, it’s tooooooo good.”

“I know, baby. I can feel you, hm? I can feel you tightening up f’r me.” He leans forward, his body pressed against the small of your back. He thrusts, causing you to moan harshly. “Y’r about to come, hm? Give it to me, hm? Be my good little muse.”

Sukuna grabbed you by the hair, pulling you towards him with a fierce intensity. His lips crashed into yours, a passionate kiss that left you breathless as he pressed your bodies tightly together. You moaned into the kiss, your voice vibrating against his mouth as Sukuna trailed his lips down your neck, leaving a trail of bites and marks in his wake.

He pushed more into you as his head rested on the side of your neck with a predatory grace. His hips ground against yours, eliciting a gasp from your lips. The room filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing,tears pouring more and more as both of you closed the gates to pleasure

Sukuna's movements quickened, driven by a surge of pleasure and desire.. His mouth descended upon your collarbone, and neck — his free hand reaches breast, pinching it tightly as you cried. His tongue tracing patterns that sent shivers down your spine. You cried out, the mix of pain and pleasure overwhelming your senses as he marked you with his teeth.

The feeling of his warmth enveloping you was intoxicating, your eyes fluttering shut as you both lost yourselves in the sensation of being together. His thrusts grew harder and faster, each movement driving you both closer to the edge. You felt like your body was shutting down, with how cruelly deep he was getting into you.

Ryomen Sukuna felt like he belonged inside of you. Here, in your arms, he was exactly where he wanted to be—lost in the embrace of someone he loved, sharing a connection that was raw, passionate, and undeniably real.

Your bodies moved together in a rhythm as old as time, each thrust bringing them closer to the peak of ecstasy. Sukuna's movements were swift as he moved you back on your back, arms pulling your legs upwards to him as he drilled his hips.

You screamed in pleasure as you finally came, head pushing against the nook of the pillows. But Sukuna was still waiting to get there. He kept pushing and pushing, as though he were driven by a primal need, a hunger that could only be sated by the touch of your skin, the sound of your voice, the taste of your lips.

You clung to him, your nails digging into his back as pleasure washed over you in waves. Every sensation was heightened, every touch electrifying as you surrendered yourself to the moment. The intensity of your connection was overwhelming, consuming you both in a fiery blaze of passion.

"I love you." you gasped, your voice strained with pleasure as Sukuna's movements quickened.

"I love you too," Sukuna whispered hoarsely, his breath hot against your ear. "More than anything in this world."

With each word, his thrusts grew more urgent, driving you both towards the edge of ecstasy. The air was thick with passion as you clung to each other, lost in a whirlwind of desire.

As the intensity reached its peak, you locked eyes, sharing a moment of perfect understanding. And in that moment, as you surrender yourself completely to each other, you knew that your love would endure, forever and always.

Nothing was coherent anymore, all you could see was the stars as everything between you blurred until there was nothing left but the two of you. Nothing existed between the two of you but being lost in a world of pleasure and desire. Time seemed to stand still as you soared to new heights, your bodies intertwined in a dance of ecstasy.

And as you finally reached the pinnacle of your passion, Sukuna's name tumbled from your lips in a breathless cry, a testament to the depth of your desire for him. In that moment, you knew that nothing else mattered—only the two of you, bound together by an unbreakable bond that transcended time and space.

The realization that your love story with Sukuna had reached its final chapter weighed heavily on your heart as you sat across from him in the dimly lit restaurant. The flickering candlelight cast dancing shadows over the table, a poignant reminder of the fleeting nature of love and life itself.

You couldn't bear to see Sukuna sacrifice his dreams for the sake of your relationship. As much as you longed to hold onto him, to keep him by your side, you knew deep down that it wasn't fair to ask him to give up his ambitions for you. His talent deserved to be showcased on a global stage, and you couldn't stand in the way of his success, no matter how much it pained you to let him go.

With a heavy heart, you realized that sometimes, even the most beautiful love stories must come to an end. It was a bittersweet truth that echoed in the depths of your soul, a reminder that life was filled with moments of joy and sorrow, of love and loss.

As you gazed into Sukuna's eyes, you knew that it was time to say goodbye. It was a decision born out of love, a selfless act of letting go for the sake of both your happiness. And though it tore you apart inside, you found solace in the knowledge that you were setting him free to chase his dreams, even if it meant facing the pain of being apart.

“When were you going to tell me that you got an offer from Paris?”

As Sukuna's gaze lingered on you, his eyes held a depth of emotion that was difficult to decipher. It was a stark contrast to the man you had come to know so intimately, whose every thought and feeling had once been an open book to you. But now, as you sat across from him, you found yourself unable to read the nuances of his expression.

Your boyfriend had always been someone whose walls had gradually come down over time, allowing you to glimpse the vulnerability and truth behind his stoic facade. Yet, on this matter, his demeanor remained inscrutable, his thoughts veiled behind a mask of contemplation.

It was a disconcerting realization, to be faced with the uncertainty of Sukuna's intentions and emotions, especially in a moment as pivotal as this. You longed to understand his inner turmoil, to find some semblance of clarity amidst the swirling emotions that threatened to engulf you both.

But as you watched him take a sip of his wine, the silence between you stretching taut with unspoken words, you couldn't help but feel a sense of unease settle over you. Sukuna's unreadable expression left you feeling adrift, uncertain of where you stood in his heart and what the future held for your relationship.

"Why bring it up now?" he countered, his voice low and measured. "Would it have changed anything?"

You hesitated, grappling with the conflicting emotions swirling within you. On one hand, you understood Sukuna's desire to protect you from unnecessary worries and uncertainties. On the other hand, you couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal that gnawed at the edges of your consciousness.

"I guess I just wish you had been more open with me," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "We've been through so much together, Sukuna. I thought we could share everything."

Sukuna's expression softened, a trace of regret flickering in his eyes. "I'm sorry," he murmured, reaching across the table to gently grasp your hand. "I didn't mean to keep it from you. I just... I wanted to figure things out first, before I said anything."

You sighed, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly at his words. Despite the hurt and confusion that lingered between you, there was an underlying sense of understanding and acceptance that anchored you to each other.

"I know," you replied, offering him a small, sad tentative smile. "I just wish we could have talked about it sooner."

“I don’t plan on taking it.”

“Why not?��

“I’m planning to stay here and be with you.” He admits to you. “I already have a name for myself here.”

“But you would make a bigger name for yourself, if you go out into the world.”

Sukuna's gaze softened as he reached across the table to cup your face gently in his hand. "I don't need a bigger name," he said earnestly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Not if it means being apart from you."

You felt a lump form in your throat at his words, touched by his unwavering devotion. "But Sukuna, I don't want to hold you back from your dreams," you replied, your voice tinged with concern.

He shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours. "You could never hold me back, baby.” he said softly. "Being with you is the greatest dream I could ever imagine."

"Are you sure?” You mumble at him.

“I am. I wouldn’t say this to you if I wasn’t.”

“But what if you resent me?” You whisper to him. “What ended up deciding I ruined your life? I won’t do that to you.”

Sukuna's heart clenched at the sight of your distress, his own emotions swirling in turmoil. He watched as you bit your lower lip, a telltale sign of your efforts to hold back tears. In that moment, he felt a wave of guilt wash over him, knowing that his decision was causing you such pain.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I never wanted to hurt you."

You shook your head slightly, a silent acknowledgment of his apology. But the hurt in your eyes remained, a silent testament to the depth of your pain.

"It's okay," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I'll be okay."

But Sukuna knew that the road ahead would be anything but easy for you. And as he reached out to gently wipe away a tear from your cheek, he silently vowed to do everything in his power to ease your pain, even if it meant walking away from the one person he loved more than anything in the world.

He reached across the table, taking your hand in his. "You’re letting me go, aren’t you?”

“I can’t join you in Paris.” You mumble to him as you purse your lips at him. “You know that.”

“That’s why I don’t want to go. I don’t want to leave you.”

“But at the cost of your dreams? Sukuna, this is not good for you.”

“I know what’s good for me, and it's you.” His intense gaze burned you. “I’m not leaving you. Baby, I’m nothing without you. I can’t just leave you—”

Your eyes shone with bitter tears pouring down. “I can’t let you leave your dreams because of me. Not when you told me to follow my dreams no matter what.”

“But its not going to hinder me.”

“Those are easy words to say.” You whisper to him. “But one day, I know you’ll look at me and you’ll wake up and not feel happy anymore.”

“I love you.”

As Sukuna's words sank in, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness in your chest. You knew deep down that he was right—that staying together might ultimately lead to resentment and regret. But the thought of being apart from him was almost unbearable.

"I love you too, more than anything." you murmured, squeezing his hand gently. "But maybe...maybe it's time for us to part ways."

Sukuna's expression mirrored your own conflicted emotions, his gaze soft yet troubled. “We don’t have to do this.”

“It’s not going to make us happy.”

“But we’d be together.”

“But that’s not fair.”

Your words hung heavy in the air, weighted with the sorrow of an impending farewell. Sukuna's heart ached at the thought of letting you go, the idea of a life without you seeming almost unbearable. He longed to hold onto you, to defy the inevitable and cling to the love you shared.

"We don't have to do this," he echoed, his voice barely above a whisper. His hand tightened around yours, as if seeking reassurance in the warmth of your touch. "We can find a way to make it work. We can fight for us."

Your heart clenched at his words, torn between the love you felt for Sukuna and the harsh reality of your situation. You knew that as much as you wanted to stay, to fight for your relationship, there were forces at play beyond your control.

With a trembling breath, you leaned forward and pressed a tender kiss to Sukuna's lips, savoring the bittersweet taste of goodbye. It was a kiss filled with all the love and longing that had defined your relationship, a silent farewell to the life you had built together.

As you pulled away, tears glistened in your eyes, reflecting the pain of your decision. "I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I love you, but I have to go."

With one last lingering look, you turned and walked away, each step a painful reminder of the love you were leaving behind. Sukuna watched you go, his heart heavy with sorrow, knowing that this was the right choice even as it tore him apart inside.

Leaving Sukuna's apartment that night was one of the hardest things you had ever done. As you gathered your belongings and made your way to the door, each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the gravity of your decision. It was a choice born out of love and sacrifice, a painful acknowledgment that staying by his side would only serve to hinder both of your paths forward.

In the days that followed, you found yourself grappling with a profound sense of loss and longing. The absence of Sukuna's presence in your life left a void that seemed impossible to fill, a gaping emptiness that echoed with the memories of your time together. Yet, despite the ache in your heart, you knew that staying away was the only way to truly move forward.

You avoided places where you knew Sukuna frequented, unwilling to risk the temptation of running into him and reopening old wounds. The thought of seeing him again filled you with a mixture of longing and fear, knowing that even the briefest encounter could reignite the flame of your feelings for him.

Deep down, you knew that if you allowed yourself to see him again, you would be drawn back into his orbit, unable to resist the pull of his magnetic presence. But you also knew that returning to him would only perpetuate the cycle of heartache and uncertainty that had plagued your relationship from the start.

And so, you made a conscious decision to stay away, to give yourself the space and time to heal. It was a choice driven by a desire for self-preservation, a recognition that true love sometimes means letting go, even when every fiber of your being longs to hold on.

Your manager told you when he was leaving.

You booked a shoot that same day, to keep busy.

Because you knew you would cry your eyes out.

You knew you’d go to the airport and see him off.

You didn’t want to break your hearts even more.

YOU THINK YOU’LL NEVER GET OVER HIM. Years later, you stood at the pinnacle of your career, having fulfilled your dream of becoming a successful model. Your name was well-known in the fashion world, and as you neared the age of retirement from modeling, you smoothly transitioned into acting, where you were already making a significant impact.

Sukuna lingered in your thoughts like a haunting melody, an ever-present refrain that played in the background of your daily life. Despite the passage of time and the distance that now separated you, his presence continued to echo through the corridors of your mind, a constant reminder of the love you had shared and the dreams you had once dared to chase together.

In the quiet moments of solitude, his memory would surface like a ghost from the past, flooding your thoughts with bittersweet nostalgia. You would find yourself reminiscing about the moments you had shared, the laughter and tears, the whispered confessions and stolen kisses. Each memory was etched into the fabric of your being, an indelible mark that refused to fade with time.

Even amidst the hustle and bustle of your busy life, Sukuna's presence lingered like a shadow, casting a subtle but palpable weight upon your heart. His absence was a constant ache, a void that no amount of success or distraction could ever hope to fill. You would catch yourself reaching for your phone to text him, only to remember that he was no longer there to answer.

Each morning, you carefully selected an outfit from the collection of clothes Sukuna had designed for you. He left them to you to find in his apartment, one he also left you. He left the letter saying that he wants you to continue using it until the lease is up. That everything he had was always going to be for you — it was always going to be with the thought of you.

Each and everyday, you knew that there was always a happy feeling in you when you wore them. You still feel like you had a connection with him through the fabric and cuts that had once been a part of his creative vision. His presence was woven into the very threads you wore, a constant reminder of the man who had once called you his muse. Somehow, you think, this was the only way that you could still love him — even when you both aren’t together anymore.

You often wondered where Sukuna was now, how he was thriving in the ever-evolving fashion world. Sometimes, when nostalgia struck, you would visit the store of his fashion house in Tokyo, browsing through the latest collections. Each piece you bought reminded you of him, a tangible connection to the past that you cherished dearly.

Despite your lingering feelings, you hadn't heard from Sukuna since he left for Paris. From what you heard from your mutual friends, he still keeps up to date with you. He buys your magazines, he watches your interviews, your shows. When you heard it, you could feel your heart break over and over. He still looks after you, from afar.

You didn't expect him to call you now. That’s just not his style. Even back then when you were dating. But you think that he understands. You look at your ring, that butterfly ring that he made you. You purse your lips as you feel how it still fits after all this time. How it fits so much better than your engagement ring.

You didn’t know how it happened, but it just did. You don’t think that he’ll ever measure how Ryomen Sukuna shaped your life. How Sukuna had loved you. But you couldn’t expect anything less. But life had moved on, and so had you, or so you told yourself. You were getting married in a couple of months. To a man that has become a stability in your life for the longest of times.

Yet, there were moments when the memories would flood back—the nights spent at glamorous parties, the intimate conversations, and the way he had looked at you as if you were his entire world. The warmth in the way he said your name, the tenderness of his fingertips against your own. Those memories were bittersweet, a blend of happiness and longing that you carried with you.

You were going to see a show in the Paris Opera while you both were on your honeymoon in France. Your fiance procured them for you. He’d always known that you liked opera. But you’ve never said out loud how and why. Because you knew that if you told him that you cling to him because of your first great love, you knew it wouldn’t be fair to him.

Still, you were going to go enjoy the show. He told you it was a romantic drama with comedy in the middle. But you knew that you probably wouldn’t be able to focus on enjoying the show as well as you want to. After all, it would be hard. You would be looking at those familiar passionate stitches and threads, knowing they were specifically made by request of the Paris Opera by the one you had loved the most — Ryomen Sukuna.

You think that this was the only ending.

But perhaps if there would be another one,

In all the alternate universes, all the next lives;

You’d wish that you and Sukuna were happy.

You’d wish you both would end up together.

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fluentmoviequoter · 3 months

Text

Make the Wall

Dalton Lambert x fem!reader | fluff | 0.8k+ words (blurb)

A/N: I found another forgotten Dalton blurb. I hope you enjoy!

“Stop fidgeting,” Dalton commands, not looking up from his sketch pad.

“You’re making me nervous,” you respond.

Dalton stills his pencil, glancing up at you. He cocks his head to the side and focuses on your eyes.

“You’re enjoying this a little too much.” You look away from him as his gaze intensifies.

“So, what if I am? You agreed to let me draw you,” Dalton argues with a smile.

You groan and fall over onto his bed, hiding your face in your folded arms.

“I can’t draw you if I can’t see you.”

“Then draw something else.”

“No other models as pretty as you,” Dalton says as he nudges your arms out of the way to see your face.

“Shut up,” you mumble. Dalton smiles and you don’t give him a chance to respond before you add, “If you tell me to make you I will punch you into Chris’ room.”

“You wound me. I just want to draw and you’re depriving me. I think, whoa, I think I feel faint,” he exclaims, raising a hand to his forehead.

“Dalton, don’t!”

You try to move out of the way but are too slow. Dalton lands on top of you, his arms holding yours to your side as his face is directly in front of yours.

“You don’t have to draw me now. You can just hold up the flat piece of paper, now that you’ve crushed me,” you tease, leaning your head forward to brush your nose with his.

“I love you,” he says.

“Got a weird way of showing it, Lambert.”

“But it’s my way, Lambert.”

“What?”

Dalton shrugs and raises his hands to cup your face, holding himself up on his elbows. “Figure we’ll get married sooner rather than later, might as well start now.”

“Shut up,” you repeat, much quieter now.

“Make-“

You cut Dalton off with a kiss, holding the sides of his shirt in your hands as he reciprocates your movements. When you remember what he said, you push him away and smile at the furrow between his brows.

“I love you.”

Dalton smiles and stands up, pulling you with him.

“I need to go buy a new sketchbook, wanna come?”

“Didn’t you just get that one?” you ask, pointing to the one he bought just a few weeks before.

“It’s full,” he answers, grabbing his phone and a jacket.

“May I?”

“Of course.”

You open the sketchbook and see a drawing of you, then flip through and see dozens more.

“Dalton, what are all these?”

He takes the book from your hands and sets it on his desk. His hands raise to hold your jaw and he kisses your forehead before speaking.

“You’re right. We should get the biggest canvas we can find so I can put the next one on the wall.”

You lean your head forward and groan into his chest.

“You’re so in love with me it’s sickening,” you say as you wrap your arms around him.

“Right back at you.”

You step back as Dalton flips his sketchbook to his most page. He sets it on his desk, where he had been working to draw you, and takes a seat.

“You have an empty spot,” you point out as you lay on Dalton’s bed.

“What?” he asks, looking up from his art project before he can focus on it again.

“Right there.” You point to a spot on his wall that doesn’t have any artwork on it.

Dalton nods and puts his pencils away, then wipes his hands as he stands and moves beside the bed. He smiles down at you then looks up at the wall.

“I think I have just the thing.”

You watch as he flips through his sketchbook before removing a page. He stands on his bed, careful not to step on you, and attaches it to the wall with glue dots. Once secured, he drops to his knees and lays down beside you, slipping his arm under your head and encouraging you to move closer. You move to place your head on his chest and get a better look at the new drawing.

“Dalton,” you gasp as you sit up.

“Yeah?” he asks, smiling as he watches you.

“You drew me?”

“Several times. That one’s my favorite though.”

You remember the day; you had saved him from an afternoon of socializing with Chris and ended up sitting in a park for hours.

“When did you do that?”

“That night, after I came back. I just couldn’t get you out of my head.”

You smile and lay on top of Dalton, hugging him tightly. He wraps his arms around you, leaning his head against yours.

“Hey, I made the wall!” you say excitedly, sitting up again to look at Dalton.

“You could be the entire wall with how many sketches of you are over there.” Dalton smiles and brushes his hand along your cheek.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Drawing me. Loving me.”

“I can’t imagine doing anything else.”

You lean forward and kiss Dalton, letting your actions tell him that you feel the same.

#dalton lambert x fem!reader #dalton lambert fluff #dalton lambert blurb #dalton lambert x reader #dalton lambert imagine #dalton lambert #insidious 5 #insidious the red door #fem!reader #hanna writes✯

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pillow-anime-talk · 1 year

Text

his talented baby. {pt.2}

synopsis: You as a person with a huge (and hidden) talent, and also a person who really surprises your boyfriend.

# tags: scenarios; current relationships; romance; some comedy; big fluff; some PDA; sfw

includes: gender neutral reader ft. sebastian michaelis & undertaker {kuroshitsuji} + josuke higashikata & rohan kishibe {jojo 4}

part one {click}

— SEBASTIAN (ft. chess)

Sebastian was perfect in everything; in cleaning, in cooking, in playing various instruments, in foreign languages, in gardening, even in singing and dancing. There was, however, one thing he couldn’t achieve fully well, and that was the game of chess.

Of course, he defeated others (I mean here; Grell, Agni, Bald or Finny) with ease, but when you offered him a game one day, his so far intact worldview changed dramatically. Eventually he found someone better than himself, but at the same time he felt so damn frustrated that he couldn’t win against your person. You were better than him, than Ciel, and even better than Mr. Tanaka, who was almost equal to him and the young lord.

“... Your move, Sebastian.” You announced by moving the bishop to the field of your choice, taking his black rook at the same time. “Are you going to give up, my love?” You smiled gently as you took a sip of delicious English tea with the perfect amount of sugar. The man looked at you in response, frowning and looking at the chess alignment after a short while.

“No. Everything is fine, I just need to think for a moment.” He said calmly, though his face expression seemed to hide the urge to swear. “I am impressed with how quickly you made such a confusing setup, darling.”

“Well, well. My grandpa taught me to play. As the saying goes, the student has surpassed the master.” You chuckled as you put your chin on your right hand while looking at the fingers of your man surrounded by white gloves, who decided to move the king to space F5. “Maybe someday you will surpass me, who knows?”

Sebastian stared at you out of the corner of his eye, nodding in delicate, almost invisible amusement.

“Maybe someday, dear. For now, I will give you the honorable title of the best chess player.”

— UNDERTAKER (ft. drawing)

Drawing has been your passion since you remember and you loved to paint literally everything; still life, nature, huge landscapes, other people, animals, and even things that didn’t make much sense (Picasso was one of your biggest inspirations when it came to cubism). In addition, in your bag you always carried your favorite blue sketchbook in which you drew tiny thoughts or things you noticed while walking, working or drinking coffee in a cafe.

That day, however, you were sitting quietly on one of the chairs in the funeral parlor, and the Undertaker was also sitting nearby – he was writing names with concentration, calculating in his mind the number of deaths in the last month and year.

His calm face was really handsome from your perspective; the faint light of the lantern caressed his pale complexion, and his green eyes full of mischief stood out behind his fair hair. Every now and then you glanced at the tall man, then your eyes focused again on the small notebook whose pages were blank. I mean, they were not all empty; some of them had sketches of dogs on them, others sketches of flowers, and others featured the figure of a tall Grim Reaper.

When you finished your illustration, you smiled and nodded, satisfied with your work. A beautiful play of light, self-confident pencil strokes and small additions in the form of ivy and rosemary beautifully composed the whole black-grey picture of Adrian.

“Excause me, darling...?” You whispered hesitantly, not wanting to interrupt his work. Nevertheless, the man quickly looked in your direction and a wide smile appeared on his face.

“Yes, my little flower.” He asked, instantly standing up and forgetting about the paperwork – you were definitely more interesting than the dead, after all. You showed him your drawing with a slight blush on your face and he opened his mouth in slight shock. “It’s me?” You nodded, and the Grim Reaper just chuckled. “Am I really THAT handsome?” He joked and you just rolled your both eyes. A short time later, Undertaker praised your talent, asking if you’d like to hang some of your sketches on the board next to the entrance.

— JOSUKE (ft. playing drums)

More than five years ago, you and your three friends started a music band. Since then, you’ve been focused on making your dreams come true, on small concerts played in the Morioh, on school performances, also on learning notes and practicing singing. You were the drummer and leader of ‘CR△WL’; your vast musical knowledge, willingness to develop your passion and daily rehearsals aroused great admiration from the rest of the band and from people who watched your slowly growing career. Of course, Josuke was no exception, on the contrary – he considered himself your biggest and most faithful fan, who with the greatest pleasure went on dates with you to music shops or bookstores with records of old bands.

The young man was delighted every time you played the instrument – just like years ago in your garage when you first played ‘Paranoid’ by Black Sabbath for him. He was smitten and would come over to your house to listen to your covers or help you make a video for your YouTube channel (you were pretty popular for tutorials, trivia, and drum videos).

“...Y/N, Y/N. Would you be able to play this song?”

That day, Josuke visited your house once again. Your mom made you two some snacks, and you grinned as you practiced another song for an upcoming concert at one of the smaller festivals this summer. Your boyfriend seemed to be excited like never before, so you asked what is the title of mentioned song. Hearing the familiar words, you just smiled, nodding your head in response.

Instantly, your both hands and right foot began to beat the drums, which making the dark-haired teenager’s face look very surprised.

“Y/N... You really know every song on this planet!”

— ROHAN (ft. rapping)

Karaoke, bowls full of ice cream and fruit, carbonated drinks, hot snacks and great company were what you’ve been missing for the last few weeks. Focused on studies and work, you didn’t have time to rest properly; but you finally met with your closest friends and you also took Rohan with you.

You had a great time gossip with besties who talked about changes in their lives and new achievements, for example, at work. You were telling about your experiences as well with a huge smile, while Rohan was sitting right next to you, talking to some people from time to time. He wasn’t interested in large gatherings, but he couldn’t say ‘No’ to you either because you were too sweet that evening.

Suddenly, one of Cardi B’s songs was played in the background and you almost squealed.

“Ooooh, I see that someone want to sing, huh?” The blonde haired girl asked, and you just laughed, thanking her for the black microphone.

Rohan almost spit at his new shirt as soon as you started rapping the verses without any problems, without even looking at the screen where the lyrics were displayed. You had a great time dancing a bit in the middle of the small room. You looked at your partner with a smirk, sometimes sending a kiss or wink in his direction. You were literally in your world; you showing your energy and love for music so perfectly.

Rohan was really surprised.

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yandereend · 4 months

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You are looking for asks? Alright!

What is your take on the guys of MHA? Who do you think would most likely be a yandere? Lets say that they have taken notice of person who likes to draw. When she has a spare moment she doesn't play on her phone but instead likes to draw in a sketch book that she carries with her everywhere. After a few encounters one sided encounters (she doesn't notice their presence) she accidentally leaves her sketch book on a park bench. How would yanderes respond to finding the sketch book? What if the sketch book contained the reader's contact information?

Yandere Dabi x artistic reader

Okay maybe I am a simp but i always pictured dabi as a yandere (also he gives: darling guess whose back from jail, vibes )

TW : yandere stuff, simp behavior, bad English since its not my native language

Let me know which mha character I should write about too💜

———————-

I just always saw Dabi as a yandere, I mean think about it. This guy is traumatized to no end, hes clearly obsessed with revenge and seems laser focused on his goals.

So when he spotted you by yourself in a cafe he was intrigued. Everyone in there was looking at their phones except for you two. To be honest he would look at it if he had one, but lets be honest my man is fucking broke. And you, since you were focused on the paper infront of you.

Your sketch book was filled with drawings of everything you could think of, it showed which shows you watch, what your favorite flowers are, even your personal style could be found in the characters outfits. And he was so fascinated by the way you stopped caring for your surroundings and stared at the page.

He couldn’t help but follow you home. He knew he was messed up but stalking was a new level for him. But he loved watching you so much, he always imagined how things would go if he was there too, sitting on the couch watching you draw while one hand was resting on your thigh.

And then his lucky day came. You forgot your sketchbook while some random thief came into the cafe you were sitting in. Poor baby, he thought, so scared of some thief even though he could show you real power.

But now here he was holding your beloved sketchbook in his scared hands, brushing over the stickers you put on it and finally getting a look inside.

Wtf was that ?!?! Why are you drawing those awful heroes?! They are just good for nothings who wouldn’t even care for your existence!!! They are not hot !! … why is there a sketch of Shoto in it ?

Dont worry darling hes coming to get you. Who cares about your old life, he will give you all the utensils you need. He will show you what a real hero is. And he will be just that.

Your hero.

——————-

I hope you liked it darling 💜 please let me know your opinion and further ideas, this ask showed me how much i love writing for mha 💜

Let me know your opinions and what character should be next 💜

#obsessive yandere #soft yandere #yandere community #yandere core #yandere fic #yandere male #yandere x reader #yandere bf #yandere fiction #yandere stories #yandere dabi #mha dabi #mha x reader #yandere mha #mha yandere #yandere dabi x reader #send asks #asks open #my asks

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oleander-nin · 11 months

Text

Horrortober Day 19- Curiosity(Yandere Rise Mikey x Reader)

A/N, not important: You know, if life screws me over today and I can't finish tomorrows, I think I'm okay with 19 consecutive posts. I'm not happy, but I don't think I'd do anything drastic over this one. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

CW: Kidnapping, hinted disturbing imagery w/out detail, obsession, mention of gorey drawing, snooping, yandere themes, dark themes

Words: 1776

Summary: You finally get access to Mikey’s locked notebook and aren't sure the bubbly turtle is as innocent as he seems anymore.

The concrete floor of the lair’s living room was cold, the freezing stone seeping into your shirt and numbing your stomach. You shiver at the feeling, unsure how pleasant you truly thought it felt. Despite insisting for the past thirty minutes it was fine, you were starting to regret your call as the cold latched onto your limbs and was starting to take your arms down too. You never realized how difficult it was to draw with numb fingers. You take a small breath, grumbling quietly as you shift on the floor in an attempt to get warm.

“Hey Mikey?” You catch his attention, frowning slightly because you knew you were giving in to winter's touch. You didn’t think you’d bail so soon. Mikey looks at you, his warm eyes also seeming to know exactly what you wanted, as if he was more surprised you lasted this long.

“I have a big blanket in my bed.” He says simply, turning back to his work. You nod gratefully, pushing your palms against the floor to pick yourself up. You shiver as you walk towards the orange turtles room, your teeth chattering from the brisk air. You didn’t understand why Donnie was so insistent on waiting until one of his projects was complete before cranking up the heat since his lab had its own separate thermal system, but no one dared to complain. Donnie wasn’t against ‘accidentally’ shutting off the system entirely while his room is unaffected. You were all certain it was just to keep Leo away from Donnie’s inventions anyway.

Pushing the door aside, you walk into Mikey’s room. It was the same temperature as the hallway, but the more colorful walls made it feel warmer. If you tried hard enough, you were fairly certain you could have a conversation with the paintings on the walls.

You spend little time admiring the graffiti Mikey covered everything in. You had been here millions of times before, and it had been a few weeks since Mikey added another masterpiece to his room. You drift over to the hammock and shuffle the pillows and blankets around to find your favorite, the large fluffy one Mikey always lets you use. You wrap the plush blanket around yourself, convinced you had just stolen a piece of heaven to sink into. The little warmth your body was generating is trapped within the blanket's fabric, quickly returning the color to your face.

Your eyes drift around the room one last time as you walk to the exit, merely scanning for oddities than truly taking in the details. Your eyes land on a bright red sketchbook sitting inconspicuously on Mikey’s desk, the usual diary lock that kept it closed sitting open and to the side. The sketchbook was open, showing off a drawing of someone familiar. You move closer, ignoring the nagging voice that was scolding you for snooping.

The drawing was of you, sitting next to Mikey on the couch. You were both leaning on each other, hands and legs entangled in the silly pose. Your face was happy, the graphite drawing somehow capturing the light and care in your eyes. You smile softly, kneeling down to take the sketchbook in your hand and admire the drawing more. It was a surprise to see, but a very welcome one.

You thumb the pages over to the beginning, looking through the drawings more. You seemed to be the main focus of most of the drawings, which helped you feel justified in looking through the sketchbook. There were so many sketches of you, the first couple innocent and sweet like the one you first saw. You frown as you glance over the fourth and fifth pages, the detailed drawing of you chained and gagged making you feel uneasy.

The next few pages were similar, all depicting you in ways that made you uncomfortable or sick. You stop looking through at the eleventh drawing, the dead bodies being too similar in looks to your friends and families. You shakily set the book down, unsure how to feel about what you just saw. On one hand, they could very well just be practice, and he found you easy to draw. On the other…

You shudder, not wanting to dwell on the implications of that. You quickly thumb through the drawings, trying to not look at them as you try to return to the original page that was open when you came in. You’re so engrossed in your mission, you don’t even notice Mikey entering the room and shutting the train car's door behind him. He walks forward, startling you as he grabs the notebook from your hand and carefully closes it, making sure to not bed any of the pages.

You gape at him, eyes wide and barely breathing. You struggle to speak while he locks the notebook, his face blank except for the smile on his lips. It was like he was glad you saw his drawings.

“I-I’m so sorry Mikey, I saw it open and then when I went to grab it, I dropped it and I was trying to fix it, but I couldn’t find the page and-” Mikey kneels in front of you and covers your mouth with his hand, stopping your desperate lies from falling. His eyes were still the same, warm and kind and oh so innocent, something you were starting to not believe. He looks down at the sketchbook in his hand, then sets it back down on the desk.

“It’s fine,” He lies, the words coming easy. He keeps his hand firmly over your mouth, not trusting you to not interrupt. “I was going to give it to you anyways! I’m just a little disappointed you peaked so early. It kind of ruins the gift.”

He pouts at you, his hand finally dropping from your mouth. Before you can speak, his arms wrap around your lower back and pull you forward, sending you crashing into his chest. You grunt in discomfort, your head knocking comfortably against the dull points of his plastron and the blanket being the only thing that kept you from the rough texture.

“So, how much did you see?”

His soft voice sends chills down your spine. You weren’t used to so much forced happiness in his voice, and no longer being able to see his face from your position made it so much worse. You gently try to push him back, your heart thudding against your ribcage. Your fists slowly close, his arms holding you tight against him so you have no chance of moving. You try to swallow the lump in your throat, desperately chasing down the fear that was starting to consume you. You try to think of what to say, unsure of how to step to calm down the young mutant.

“Not much,” Your throat is dry when you speak, causing your words to be quieter and harder than you wanted. Mikey shifts you closer to him, his face pressed into your hair. You don’t try to struggle in his arms, wanting nothing more than for him to calm down and let you go. “I just saw the first couple pages.”

Mikey hums in acknowledgement, his chest lifting higher as he breathes deeply for a moment. His voice is tight, almost nervous. You weren’t sure how to take it. “What did you think?”

“They were… Nice.” You say, your stomach churning once more as you remember the drawings and what they contained. The blood and gore of your family members from the final page would haunt you for years to come. Mikey nods despite your unease, seeming to brighten at the answer.

“Good. I’m glad you like them. I really really like you, you know. I wanted to give that to you before I asked you out but…” Mikey takes a deep breath, his voice darkening and his arms growing tighter around you. “Well, you ruined it. You ruined the surprise, and I’m really mad at you right now.”

Your blood runs cold at his words, unease biting at your heart and soaking into your veins. Mikey doesn’t speak for a moment, his body tense. You weren’t sure what he was thinking, but you got the feeling you had to leave. Now.

“Hey Mikey?” You mumble, trying to tread lightly. You didn't want to make him more upset. He squeezes you, letting you know he was listening without making a sound. “I’m sorry, I really am, but I need to go home. I- I have homework, remember?”

Mikey doesn’t answer, his grip tightening more and you were sure you could feel your bones stress under the pressure. You open your mouth to continue, but he cuts you off, the usually bubbly turtle's words turning cold.

“You’re not leaving.” He says shortly, an almost whine in his voice despite the cold words. You tense, unsure how to respond. The growing fear in your heart wasn’t helping you think clearly, and you couldn’t see a good way to get out of this.

Mikey breathes through his nose, trying to calm himself so he doesn’t do anything brash. You both sit there for a few moments, your face forcefully pressed up against Mikey’s plastron. Your breathing is starting to get more laborious as panic continues to set in, Mikey’s compressive hold not helping in the slightest. The turtle himself also seemed unsure what to do next, his arms shaking as he held you. Neither of you move nor speak, not wanting to break the heavy silence that fell upon the room.

“I’m sorry,” MIkey says suddenly, his voice making you both jump. He licks his lips before continuing, your silence encouraging him to finish. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you leave. I need you. This, this wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

Before you can ask what he meant, Mikey stands up with you in his arms, his spots and eyes glowing as he lets his powers flow. Your panic escapes you now, screams and cries erupting from your float as chains wrap around you and lock you in place. Now fully bound, Mikey sets you down in his hammock bed, his eyes shaky while he backs away. He looks over you, seemingly looking for injuries while you continue to scream and curse his name. Mikey seems upset at the outburst, quickly walking out of sight before reappearing with a small cloth he shoves into your mouth. The dusty rag burns on your tongue, making you choke and cough.

“I’ll be back.” Mikey mumbles, his eyes disappearing as he turns around and marches off, leaving you to steam alone in his cold, treacherous room.

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