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raytorosaurus · 2 years ago

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I have seen maybe half a season of TUA and didn’t read the comics so let me tell you seeing those panels where Vanya is yelling “We belong on that stage” (and in reference to herself and her taller blonde bass-playing brother) drawn in profile with literally Gerard’s haircut and outfit was a big shock to the system. I never even considered that he’d inserted elements of himself and his bandmates into TUA except for a bunch of weird edits people made comparing how much Aiden Gallagher looks like Frank but now I feel like I really need to read it.

im really looking forward to rereading all of the comics after this semester's over because i haven't done that since volume 3's run ended and i'll definitely make more coherent posts about it then but like. it's really really interesting to compare to all of gerard's other art because he is just...so distinctively him, even across different mediums and genres. tua and mcr and hesitant alien and kjna and his visual art etc etc etc like his artistic fingerprint is stamped so boldly and unapologetically all over them and that's something i really love about him. like his art, love it or hate it, is sooooo genuine always. even when he's purposely imitating other artists, he's very consciously doing it in his own voice, putting his own spin on it.

when i say tua and mcr are completely separate projects i mean it - i don't think one should only ever be discussed in relation to/in the context of the other - and, above all, tua is certainly not like...autobiographical, or a direct representation of real people/events. it's led by gerard but it has a different creative team than mcr does and that really shows as well - i definitely wanna talk ant this when i have more time but part of the reason im not sold on conweap as an album is because it's too umbrella academy - it's really evident that gerard was working on both of them at the same time, and letting one influence the other too directly. mcr's a band, not a Gerard Project, and umbrella academy is largely a duo (w gabriel bá), so they can't just be transplanted onto each other yk.

anyway I'm rambling but all this to say - tua isn't meant to be "about" mcr any more than bullets is "about" 9/11. but gerard's life was changed and shaped by his experiences in the music scene throughout his life, by dropping everything and living as a penniless artist, by becoming suddenly (in)famous, and that really shines through in tua. he says he drew inspiration from touring band life to write a dysfunctional family, and the dehumanising effects of fame and attention, and of being categorised and scrutinised on a private or public level, are huge themes - as is addiction, mental health, complicated grief.

like...i actually got into mcr through the tua comics lmaooo. i read volume 1 because of wonderful @blackmoldmp3 talking about it and immediately said oh. i need more from this dude's brain right now. and i was soooo not disappointed haha. i really am obsessed with quite a lot of the things gerard is also obsessed with as an artist. the particular themes and imagery and scenarios he's fixated on are really very consistent throughout everything he does - only the way they're discussed or portrayed does change over time. i don't rly subscribe to the idea of gleaning specifics abt artists' personal lives from their works because, beside all else, it just does them a huge disservice (that's my number one gripe with the popular talking pounts around hes alien and frank's solo work in particular; however "confessional" you wanna read art as, it's still art that was created with skill and intent.)

anyway that's way off topic dkfnfj. what i do love about this kind of thing is looking at distinct creations in the context of the rest of an artist's body of work. like...yeah, gerard's said there's a lot of mikey in klaus. has dressed similarly to vanya and the kraken and the seance at times etc etc. has compared himself to the rumor, because she's the one he relates to most. puts a lot of his familiar ideology surrounding music and performance into vanya. puts angry teenage vanya in a shitty punk band with her disillusioned teenage brother on bass, and puts a classical music prodigy in a punk band as an excellent guitarist, writing songs about killing the president etc etc. i could go on! because these things are just scattered everywhere through the comic, just like all of gerard thematic and aesthetic and ideologic fingerprints.

so what's reallyyy interesting to me is looking at umbrella academy as something gerard wrote on the road with mcr across multiple years. volume one was released while the tbp world tour was ongoing, and volume two only a few months after. the progression of parade -> tua -> conweap -> danger days is SOOOO fascinating to me, especially because one of the things that really works about danger days imo is the way it kind of shakes off some of the tua-style gritty cynicism and returns to mcr's defiant, extravagant theatricality. if you go through tua with a fine-tooth comb you'll definitely find the most direct comparisons to conweap, in terms of mcr. the way dd approaches the themes it has in common with tua is just.....so different, and so so mcr. and then you can see the at times self-referential development on those things in hesitant alien - AND THEN VOLUME 3 COMES AROUND AND LIKE. AUUUGGGGHHHHH the change and growth there is SO apparent. btw i don't mean "growth" "progression" etc in this post to mean "improving" - i just mean change and development in a neutral sense, bc it's so interesting to see it laid out there in an artist's body of work. but like. man it makes me crazeeee actually the way gerard picked tua back up....almost certainly around the same time mcr started discussing a potential reunion. and the way that foundations revisits and reconceptualises mcr's existing catalogue is paralleled in the way vol 3 of tua is, like...........like there's so much life lived there, between those things. gerard's even said he's changed his plan for the ending (if we ever see it 🥲) because he has more compassion for his own characters now and doesn't want to see them broken down for good. he says he's gotten better at listening to other people - for starters, he's a lot more conscious of his own subconscious racism/whiteness that came through at times in the original run and has expressed regret for that (namely, the entire main cast being white, with a couple of side characters being uncomfortably stereotyped).

but just like. augh. im not gonna lie man i have no idea what i've just typed im sorry it's probably so rambly bc I'm so dizzy rn and definitely am not gonna proofread it or whatever skdjfj but. I LOVE ART! I LOVE ARTISTS! I LOVE DIVING DEEP INTO AN ARTIST'S BODY OF WORK AND WATCHING THEM REINVENT THEMSELF AND/OR DOUBLE DOWN ON THEMSELF (SOMETIMES FOR BETTER, SOMETIMES FOR WORSE). obvs this fandom genuinely does have a big issue with invasive/un-self-aware parasocial behaviour but there's a difference between that and like. getting obsessed with a particular artist. that's so normal and in fact necessary to life imo. i think every artist literally has to have ppl like that i can't imagine any other way to live it's just a specific type of human connection at a distance baby. don't get me wrong tho i also wanna chew on his thigh. anyway.

my god. how did i get here what even was your question. tua. yes it's crazy. it's not for everyone for sure but it has enough of the shit that makes me crazzzzyyyyy that it got me into mcr which made me crazierrrr so. yes i can recommend. especially if ur like me and lovvvve stories that are a little bit fractured by design. that dance around big parts of the story, where there's as much significance in an absence or in a tiny background detail than there is in any dialogue or action scene. most of the criticism i see of tua is about the pacing but like. to my tastes it's a really great use of the comic medium yk? lmk if you want content warnings or something there are plenty skdjfj.

#how was i completely braindead today and then too dizzy to read text. and then somehow type this shit on my phone with my eyes half-closed.#am i literally just lazy or is a hyperfixation strong enough to kvercome any illness lolz #sorry if this went in a billion circles but the room im in is also spinning a little so. skfndkfndjdjfjdj #umbrella academy #tua #mcr talk #*#answered

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theweirdestroller · 2 months ago

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Crime Time!! Arts and Crafts

Stop my doomsday clock! This is my big update for today! Please do not hunt me for sport. I've fulfilled my end of things. I wanted to do a more birthday themed thing as it is my birthday today!! However, that didn't work out, buuuutttt, I do have this!

It's some more from my criminal au based off of @cubbihue's au! Hope y'all enjoy!!

Despite the apartment Mugsy, and now Peri, called home looking rather... run-down, once you’re outside the building, it isn’t too bad. The grounds have a lot of foliage, most of it growing where it shouldn’t, but it was still beautiful nonetheless. Sure, it was mainly grass and weeds, but it was still green.

Peri was taking his time enjoying the view, wandering aimlessly around the complex, trying to make his new human legs stronger. Because the reason they were so different had to be that they were new and he was unused to them. His parents walked around flawlessly, though they still had their magic, so that couldn’t be ruled out. But Peri wasn’t fond of how tired and weak his legs felt. The cane helped some, but he didn’t want to always rely on it like some humans.

It was during this wandering that Peri came across a section of sidewalk he hadn’t noticed before. It was somewhat cleaner than the rest of the path he had been walking, and clearly led somewhere that wasn’t one of the buildings. Peri veered off his current path and decided to follow this new one. It wasn’t anything too different, in fact, it looked much like the rest of the sidewalks.

Up until it led into a garden. It wasn’t a very healthy looking garden, with many of the plants rather small and pitiful, if not wilted, but it was something new. Peri stepped around the planters and wandered deeper into the little garden, coming across a wall. It was concrete and not quite taller than Peri. It was very random, but probably made sense to humans. Stepping around the wall revealed-

“Mugsy?” The brunette human glanced up from where he was crouched beside the wall.

“Oh. Hey Peri. I see you’ve found the garden,”

“What are you doing?” Mugsy pulled a black duffle bag into Peri’s line of sight and removed a can of spray paint from the bag.

“Art. The wall’s left over from a project that the complex never finished. I got permission to practice here. Susan’s in charge of the rest of the garden,”

“You? Permission?” Peri snorted.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Mugsy waved Peri off and shook the can.

“The wall is probably the best part of this whole area,” Peri commented, sitting down next to Mugsy.

“Eh. For right now. Susan’s been visiting family. She’ll be back. I think.” There was a moment of silence, with the exception of the can. “I wouldn’t blame her if she just left,”

“Do you want to leave?”

“I- I’m not sure. I don’t really have anywhere else to go... Maybe if I found the right place,” Mugsy tested out the can on the wall. It left a quick, neat line of yellowy-orange paint in its wake. “And what about you? You have plans that aren’t crashing on my couch?”

“Excuse you! I’ll have you know that crashing on your couch is a perfectly good plan!” Mugsy choked out a startled laugh.

“Sure buddy, sure.” The human continued painting on the wall, each new line capturing Peri’s attention. Mugsy watched with amusement as he painted, his roommate not unlike a cat watching a laser pointer.

“Say,” Mugsy started, pausing his work so Peri would actually listen instead of remaining in his weird zoned out state. “You ever used spray paint?”

“No? Why?” A wide grin spread across Mugsy’s face. He sifted through his bag and retrieved a can of purple spray paint before tossing it to Peri.

“That one should be good to go. Give it a try!” Peri caught the can just before it smacked him in the face.

The fairy popped off the cap and held it up like Mugsy had done earlier. With hesitant pressure, he pushed down on top causing a short, and to Peri, startling, spray of paint. On the wall in front of the pair was now a messy looking splotch of purple covering Mugsy’s earlier work.

“I’m so sorry!!” Peri gasped out, nearly dropping the can from flinching back.

“It’s fine!!” Mugsy said quickly. “I can redo that, no problem. Buuuuutttt, do you want to help me out?”

“How? I don’t even know how to use this thing...”

“That’s the fun part! You learn as you go! And we can come back to this wall any time,” Mugsy slung an arm over Peri’s shoulder. “We can stay sitting and work down here if you’d like, or I bring a chair out if you want to work higher up,”

“Uh, sitting’s fine... Maybe we can bring a chair another time?” Mugsy smiled and nodded, looking rather excited that he’d be apprenticing his new roommate in all matters of spray paint.

–

It was nearly evening when the pair had finished. The sun was still lazily making its way back down, and the lamps for the complex had turned on, with a few completely out and one sadly flickering away. The wall was covered in various colors, from Mugsy’s preferred yellowy-orange, to Peri’s more magenta hue. Between those smatterings were a multitude of shades coming together to make a somewhat recognizable scene. It was the familiar view from the apartment window that Mugsy and Peri saw every morning. It overlooked a small part of the city, just before the start of the towering buildings and busy streets. There were a few trees, some street lights, and a silhouette of a person walking down the sidewalk.

Looking at it now that it was all done, Peri could still tell what parts he worked on versus what parts Mugsy did. The biggest giveaway was the increase in purple, and messy lines. But it looked nice.

“Wanna sign it?” Mugsy asked, offering Peri a black sharpie. Peri took it and quickly wrote his name in loopy cursive. A simple “Peri” with no last name or initial. Mugsy signed it after. Peri didn’t look at the name he wrote, more because he forgot than him not wanting to know his friend’s real name.

The two made it back to the apartment shortly after, and heated up leftovers for dinner. Well- Mugsy heated up leftovers, Peri tried to eat a donut and call it a day.

#fairly oddparents #fop peri #mugsy (criminal au)#criminal fop au #one shot #the spray paint is going to come back i promise #and boy i cannot wait til it does #i say as if im not the author of this au #im not quite sure what surname im going to give peri #also- im sorry for anyone who thought that that was actually mugsy's name #im gonna do a reveal #at some point #much later

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nogoodthing-official · 1 year ago

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No Good Thing: Shorts

S-1: A New Beginning

Synopsis:

This is the canon story of how Brock and Maxim first meet. Since it’s not going to be gone over in the main story, I decided to make it its own short story (“short” is used very lightly here). This was incredibly self-indulgent and the writing is a little… cringy weird since I tried to make the conversations flow naturally in this, and the descriptions are a bit clunky, but I hope you’ll enjoy it regardless! If there’s anything I need to fix with my writing, don’t hesitate to let me know. And this is actually the first time I’ve done cover art for this!

This will be set in the past, so Brock is 19 and Maxim is 21 in this short.

(This is your daily reminder that they do not live on Earth)

Read:

10 years ago, Brock was a very different person. He doesn’t like to talk about his younger years, but out of everything that’s happened when he was a teenager, there was one part of it that he remembers and cherishes deeply.

When Brock was 19, he was very aloof and antisocial. Rarely looked up from the ground, rarely made eye contact, rarely laughed, rarely smiled. You could argue that he doesn’t smile much now, but you just don’t know how bad it got at one point. His eyes had dark rings under them from a lack of sleep and an overall poor sense of taking care of himself. Most of his wardrobe was bought for the sole purpose of blending in, since he hated attracting attention to himself. The entire whirlwind of stuff he had to deal with in his teenage years made his mental health worse. He didn't like talking to other people, so he didn't have any friends, aside from his previous teachers, but he felt that it was their job to like him. He was seeing a therapist, but he didn't feel like he was getting better. If anything it was calling more attention to the fact that he was not mentally stable. Not normal. His social skills were taking a toll from all of the combined mental issues, which only made his chance at making friends more and more difficult.

One day, he was sitting at the park, as per his mother urging him to take more time to be outside. He didn’t really have any plans for anything to do once he got there, so he brought his sketchbook and just spent a majority of his time drawing in the park. It was virtually the same thing that he was doing while inside, but at least it was outside this time, so it was better for him. While sitting on a picnic bench, minding his own business, drawing or doodling anything that came to his mind, he saw a shadow loom from over the right side of the table, until it fell onto his sketchbook. He didn’t acknowledge it at first, until the shadow spoke.

“Hello!”

Brock jumped a little too hard at the sudden voice. It was louder than the ambient sounds of the park. The person’s voice was very baritone, so baritone that he thought it was one of the few adults that he knew. But when he looked up at who greeted him, he had full sight of the person’s appearance, one that he could only describe as antithetical to his voice. He had a light blue sweater with denim jeans, and the shirt appeared to have colorful stickers on it, but upon closer examination were actually ironed-on patches. On his left arm, he had so many beaded bracelets of different colors and sizes that it was hard to believe that they weren’t weighing his arm down. The most eye-catching thing, however, was the hat that he was wearing. It was neon green and had long mittens that went down the side of his head, each mitten having a paw print on the palm and felt claws at the end. The top of the hat had a cat face with a pink Mohawk along with cat ears. The hat actually looked familiar. He remembered seeing it in a store, but only vaguely. Under the hat was a messy head of fluffy, dusty brown hair, complimenting his fair skin tone. The person himself was a few inches taller than Brock, but he had a much bigger frame. He was far more muscular than Brock was, but still slightly less muscular than most people he had seen before. His round, blue eyes were staring at him, waiting for a response. Brock was still taking in his overwhelming appearance. The person suddenly looked apologetically at him, after noticing how long he was silently staring at him.

“Oh, sorry, did I startle you? I forget how loud I am at times.”

Brock glanced at his sketchbook, still staring at the person.

“I just came over to see what you were doing. Uh, which, now that i’m closer, looks like drawing. Can I see?”

Brock considered his options carefully. On one hand, he had no idea who this person was or why he was talking to him, let alone why he would care about something he was doing. He might not have the best intentions. On the other hand, he willingly came up to him to talk. Out of everyone else in the park. Who knows when that would happen again?

“…sure.”

The person smiled before walking to the other side of him, sitting beside him before scooting a bit away, to give him some space. The person looked over each finished piece, as well as the occasional idle doodle or unfinished sketches in awe.

“Woww, these are really good! What did you use for these?”

Brock, not used to the praise, found it difficult to find a response. “Oh u-uh… just colored pencil, fine-tipped pen, marker, it’s not really that great, it's just what I do when i’m bored…”

“Well, it’s better than what I could do, that's for sure.”

The person looked over the sketches again and again, clearly not getting enough of it. “Man, I wish I had the patience to make something with this much detail,” he handed the sketchbook back to Brock. “The best I could do was make all of these Kandi bracelets.”

“Kandi” bracelets? So that’s what they were called… “You… made all of those?”

“Yeah!” The person beamed with pride. “I make them as a hobby. Some of my friends think it’s kinda childish, but I enjoy making them.”

Brock looked over the bracelets more carefully this time. Some bracelets had beads with letters, some had intricate patterns, some even had charms with the same character he was wearing on his hat. They personally weren’t his style, and he admittedly had to agree with his aforementioned friends, but he also had to admit, by looking at them he could tell that he obviously had lots of experience. They look like he put a lot of effort into it. It was obviously a source of pride for him. Brock decided to take that into account. “I think they look nice.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, those look like they took a long time to make. I’m glad that you can channel your creativity into a medium that you can enjoy.” Brock internally chastised himself the projection on that compliment.

“Aww gee, that's really nice of you to say. Yeah, they do take a while, and I’ve actually made a lot more than these.” He lifts and studies over his bedazzled arm with a look you’d expect from an archaeologist looking over a newly discovered fossil. “I’d have to say that these are four out of… 50 bracelets I’ve made? It’s been a while since I’ve done an actual count, but-”

“50?”

“Hahah, yeah! I actually have a few pictures of the ones I made! I started making them 3 years ago…”

Brock and the stranger talked for about 15 minutes about their art, their stories from school, their families. It was starting to get dark and the stranger had to go. As the stranger started to make his way out of the park, Brock suddenly started feeling… something. He started feeling sick. He started feeling lonelier with each step he was taking away from him. No. He didn't want to feel like this now. He was desperate for interaction, any interaction at this point. He didn’t care that he was a complete stranger. He actually engaged with him, was actually interested in what he was talking about, he treated him like a person. He wasn’t just a random stranger, he was a stranger who made him feel like what he said actually mattered to people, something he hasn’t felt in years, and now he was walking away. Who knows if he might see him again. Who knows if anyone else will even talk with him again. He was mentally screaming at himself to break out of his stupor and do something. He’s almost at the gate. Do something. NOW.

“WAIT!” Brock practically shouts at the stranger, causing him to whirl his head around towards his direction, stopping only a few feet away from the park’s exit. Brock rushed over to him from the other side of the park where he was sitting, stopping before him and doubling over to catch his breath, his heart pounding in his ears so hard that he almost couldn’t hear anything else. After a few seconds of heavy panting, his heartbeat slowing, and Maxim politely waiting, he asks him, “W-what’s your name?”

The person looked like he forgot something important. “Oh! My apologies, I guess I never really told you, huh? My name is Maxim.”

Brock took a few more seconds to catch his breath. “Maxim. Okay. My name is… Brock.”

“Nice to meet you, Brock!”

Brock nods in response, finally getting ahold of his breathing. He pored over how to ask this question without sounding desperate. “Do you… want to meet up here again? Maybe tomorrow? I mean, if you are busy or aren't feeling up for-”

Maxim chimes in immediately, obviously having the same thought. “That sounds like a great idea! It was pretty fun talking with you.” His face then brightens up with and idea in mind. “…Actually, I have another great idea!” He immediately takes out his phone and unlocks it, excitedly swiping to somewhere only he knows. “Oh wait, uh, can I borrow your phone, if you have one?” Brock takes out his phone and hands it to him. Maxim takes it and fiddles with it for a few seconds, occasionally glancing at his own phone, before handing it back to Brock. “There. Now we won’t have to come out here every time we want to talk to each other! Plus it’s just easier.” He puts away his phone and opens up the gate before starting on his way back home, pausing to say goodbye to Brock through the chain-link fence. “Hopefully we can pick our conversation up where we left off tomorrow!”

Brock just nodded in response. Maxim smiled sweetly at him before saying goodbye and making his way back home. He looks at his phone to see what he could've possibly done with it, and saw that it was opened up to his phone app…

…with Maxim’s phone number. And upon further examination, he made a contact in his text messages. He had to test this. He typed in a simple “hello” and sent it to the contact. Seconds later, he saw a response.

“;P”

It was Maxim. Holy shit.

He had a friend.

———————————————————————————————————————

It had been a few months since Brock befriended Maxim. To be honest, he didn't even know what happened to that even attract that guy to himself. He seemed like the exact opposite in personality and appearance, even in interests. But he had to admit, it was nice. He learned more about him over the rest of the year, like his other hobbies, other than bracelet making. He learned that his full name is Maxim Torres. He learned that Maxim also apparently collects these small stuffed animals, even ones that have been discontinued, and enjoys studying about scout badges. Brock has a few stuffed animals of his own, as well as ones from when he was still a baby, so as soon as he heard the phrase “stuffed animal”, he was instantly hooked. Aside from the park, they also regularly went to places that they both had interest in, like the library or the mall, and other times just played around in the more wooded areas of their neighborhood. Brock also started to notice himself acting less guarded around him, too. He would be more relaxed and act less emotionally distant than if he wasn’t around him. He felt more motivated to take care of himself and looked forward to going outside. He even started to smile more, too. He really started to look up to him and aspire to be more like him. More easygoing.

But recently, Brock also noticed weird happenings with himself. He started to find his that body acts weird when he was around him. It would get harder to find words or enunciate his thoughts around him, and would start being more quiet. Whenever he accidentally brushed against his arm or hand, his hand would react by shaking violently. Hugs usually had the same effect, but then he would just start melting into him, and almost become drowsy. There have been times where he almost dozed off when Maxim hugged him. Whenever Maxim would compliment his art or, let’s be honest, make eye contact or smile at him, his heart would start racing, usually attempting to return the smile with very little success, and hearing his voice would make the room feel hotter than it actually was. Not only that, he kept finding something that he didn’t notice about his eyes before every time he looked at them. Something that made them… nice to look at. Something that makes him feel calm when he sees them. He even started having… “dreams.” What was happening? Brock wasn't sure why this was happening to him, at first he started to think that he was starting to relapse in his behavior. But after a few days of questioning and a few weekly therapy sessions, he finally got an answer. He liked Maxim. In fact, he loved Maxim. Romantically.

He hid his feelings for a while. He didn’t want to ruin his friendship with Maxim in the very likely event that he didn't like him romantically. He started to distance himself from Maxim, seeing any interaction with him as a way to deepen his affection for him and make things worse, and therefore harder to ignore. He wouldn’t talk to him unless he urged him to, avoided any physical contact, and just spent the day stewing in his own feelings and thoughts. One day, while in his bed, after a long night of staring at his ceiling, he hears the chime on his phone go off, snapping him away from his trance. He checks to see who it is and tries to ignore the sickening butterflies in his stomach as he read who texted him.

Maxim.

He read the text. “Hey dude, are you okay?” Over time, he noticed that Maxim texted closer to correct grammar when he was worried about something. Brock mulled over what he should do. He started typing.

“yes”

A reply came in a few seconds later. “Meet me at the park, I wanna tell you something”

Ignoring how it was currently the middle of the night, he took a few minutes to wake up, stepped out his window, and made his way to the park. When he got there, he saw Maxim waiting at the picnic table.

“Hey, you made it! Hopefully I didn't disturb your sleep.”

Not like he could sleep. Brock found sleeping difficult after his recent discovery, so he was actually thankful for that text. He couldn't tell him every detail though. “No, you didn't.”

“I wanted to tell you about this idea that I got! I really think you'll like it!”

Brock had nothing better to do. “What?”

“A New Year's Eve party!”

Brock took a moment for his ears to catch up with his words. “…a what?”

“A New Year's Eve party!” He begins rattling off his research. “I’ve read about it online and apparently, on Earth, the year ends after it makes a full revolution around their sun, so their year is 365 days long. And as it turns out, their planet will finish its revolution tomorrow! So, how about we try and have a celebration as well, just for fun?”

Brock considered the honestly weird offer. He wasn’t interested in social events, and he hated asking if anyone else would be there, as if it would convey that whether he was interested or not based on the answer. But he had to know. “…Is anyone else going to be there?”

“No, it’ll just be a you-and-me thing. I noticed that you were kinda down lately, and I thought that this would help with that. It’ll be in my ~crafting room~,” he said the words “crafting room” with a flourish, like he always did. Brock stifled a chuckle. “And my parents will be very busy, so it’ll just be us! I know how you aren't that into crowds.”

God, he was so sweet. Brock tried to calm down his beating heart while he considered an answer. Hmm, well… if no one else will be there and the house will be empty… but… hm. You know what, why not. He never really considered how he was making him feel by distancing himself away from him, and it was the least he could do. Wasn’t that a thing normal people do? Consider how others feel? And if he was really doing all this to make him feel better… he would hate to turn him down. He focused on Maxim again and his heart almost broke. He looks like a kicked puppy. No, he couldn’t say no to this, especially with how much he spent planning it.

“…Brock?”

“…Alright, I’ll do it. What time do you want me to be there?”

Maxim visibly perked up. “11:00 P.M.!”

Brock made sure to set an alarm when he got home.

———————————————————————————————————————

At the “party”, more like a private get-together for two, it was pretty calm. It was located in the aforementioned crafting room, which looked more like a repurposed basement, but even for a basement it was pretty large. There was an old TV on a stand in front of a couch that looked older than the TV. There was a table with a lamp in the corner, as well as multiple clear containers of bracelets and beads. The floor had carpet, but the walls were pretty much uncovered. Overall, the atmosphere was surprisingly homey. Most of the time remaining was spent watching whatever was on the TV before turning it to the Earth Broadcast Channel that he had on his old TV. Maxim spent a few more minutes making more Kandi bracelets while Brock watched. It was mesmerizing to see how he made them. Overall, the entire thing was uneventful. Brock couldn't have asked for anything more.

A few minutes before the end of the year (at least on Earth), they both turned their attention back to the EBC, seeing the camera broadcasting the large crowds of people cheering, gathered in a city that, honestly, they didn't know the name of. Confetti littered the streets and there was a large structure that looked like a gigantic disco ball on top of a tall structure.

“Wow, they really take this “end of the year” thing seriously, huh?” Maxim asked.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, they really do.” Brock tried to look like he was interested in the TV, but internally he was boiling in his feelings. He didn't have butterflies anymore, he had an entire solarium. He looked over at Maxim to see if he could notice. His eyes were glued to the TV, mesmerized by a celebration that he had never seen recorded before. In that moment, Brock got an idea. Not voluntarily. This idea kept growing and growing in the back of his mind over time and got stronger every day. No matter how much he tried to push it back down to its original size, it just made it stronger. God, he hated this idea, but it was going to get out of him one way or another. After mustering as much confidence as he could with his current mindset, he turned to Maxim. “Hey, Max?”

Maxim snapped out of staring at the TV. “Yeah?”

“Ummm… I uhhhmmm…… okay, can you do something for me?”

“Sure, what is it?”

“I, uhh, need you to psych me up. As hard as you can. And don’t stop doing it until I get enough courage to… do it.”

“Do what?”

“Um… you’ll know.”

Maxim happily obliged and started to speak words of affirmation to Brock. “C’mon Brock! You can do it, not exactly sure what, but i’m sure you'll be able to do it anyway!”

Brock started taking deep breaths, readying himself and praying that he can gain the courage to not choke on his own words.

“Come on!! You can do it!! Just keep breathing, you'll get there!!” Maxim was practically shouting words of encouragement by now. “Come on!! Do it, do it, DO IT!!!”

Let’s hope this works.

“DO IT! DO IT! DO I-”

“I like you!”

Maxim looked surprised for a moment, before asking him to repeat himself. “What?”

“I… like you,” Brock repeats, taking deep breaths like it took all his energy to say that. “I don’t know when these feelings started, or if they’ll ever end. I just… like being around you. You always seem to be like this, optimistic person, and I strived to be like that. I started looking up to you because of that, but I guess while I did, I also found… other reasons to like you, too. Romantically, I mean. So… I like you. And I was scared that you wouldn't feel the same way, and I didn’t want to misread the situation and… accidentally jeopardize our friendship. I’ve never had a friendship, a real one, in so long, and I just… didn’t want to ruin it so soon. So I just… kept quiet. For a while. Until now. By some random boost of confidence, I decided that I wanted to tell you how I feel about you. And regardless of if you feel the same way or not,” Brock stares at the floor. “I wanted to get this off my chest before… I wouldn't be able to.”

Brock was silent for a while, dreading the lack of words coming from Maxim’s side of the room. The silence was deafening. He could feel his ears starting to ring. He could feel the blood rush to his face as he felt like he was either going to cry or pass out. He felt sick. He didn’t want to lose Max. He didn't like losing anyone. He hated losing people. He finally started the first friendship he had since a year after he moved here, the first real friendship in years… and it was going end because he had too much reassurance in how he felt. His mind spiraled further and further into the pit of alternate choices he could've made that would’ve helped him avoid this. He could feel his heart sinking into his stomach, but before it could reach the bottom, Maxim spoke after what felt like hours.

“No way, I like you too!”

His honesty hit him like a truck and brought him back to reality. “… Really??”

“Yeah! Honestly, I feel like it was a slow progression of more and more positive feelings that I got only when I was around you. I started feeling more like hanging out with you whenever I felt sad or upset, and I would feel better as soon as I saw you. You also have this… emotional maturity that I wish I had, seeing you offer these well-put and well-thought out solutions to any problems me or my siblings or my friends have makes me wish I could have what you have that makes it look so easy. And…” Maxim starts to blush as he looks away, embarrassed. “I love making you happy… because whenever you're happy… you have this… adorable smile. Your eyes light up in a way that makes me feel… dizzy, almost. And your laughter? Oh my gosh, I feel like I could listen to it all day. It just makes me feel happier seeing you smile, but I was afraid that you weren’t romantically interested in someone like me… someone immature...”

“I was scared you just hung out with me out of pity or something!”

Maxim paused. “…Why?”

“I—” Brock thought for a moment. In his shock, he forgot about how he even came to that conclusion in the first place. “I… don’t know.”

Maxim scoots closer to Brock and reassuringly puts his hand on his. “Well, it’s okay. Looks like we were both scared of nothing, huh?”

Be still his beating heart. “Heh, yeah…” Brock stared at his feet, as a familiar uncertainty started to creep into his thoughts. Even though he pretty much outright told him, he still needed to make sure. “… do you really mean that? You actually… like-like me?”

“Yeah dude! I like-like you. I guess… I love you.”

Brock's heart was beating a mile a minute at how fast he admitted it. His blush was covering his whole face at this point. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard and it felt like the room was 100 degrees hotter. Was this real??? He suddenly focused on Maxim. His face was so close. He couldn't stop staring at his eyes. …His eyes. Those wonderfully blue eyes. Those beautifully ethereal colors. They seemed to look even more beautiful than they were before. The soothing effects of his eyes still remained, as Brock’s heartbeat finally started to slow down. It felt like the world was still, like a huge weight was off his shoulders, like he could finally breathe now, but at the same time it felt like a whole new weight was settling directly on top of his lungs that was making it hard to breathe again. His gaze slowly shifted to his lips, and he tried multiple times to keep eye contact, but his eyes felt like betraying him today. Of all days. Maxim looked confused for a moment before following where his eyes were staring at. He picked up pretty quickly on what he was thinking, blush starting to fade into his skin.

“…H-hey Max?”

Maxim clears his throat. “Yeah?”

“C-can… I, uh… uhm…,” Brock knew it was too early, he knew this was his first kiss, but he didn't care. All he wanted right now was to feel this from the only person who felt the same way. Love. But he didn't even know if Maxim even wanted to kiss eithe-

Maxim caresses Brock’s hand. “Hey, we can take this slow if you want. You look like you're about to pass out. If you're not ready yet, we don't have to kiss right now if you don't want to-”

“NO!” Brock felt embarrassed at how he practically screamed the answer. He lowered his voice. “No… I want to kiss too… but I just… feel nervous…” Brock looked at his shaking hands as Maxim gently held and squeezed them reassuringly, Brock’s heart fluttering at the simple gesture, but this time he had no reason to ignore it. His gaze traveled from his arms to his face, and he felt calm again as he saw those eyes staring back at him.

“Don’t be.”

They both slowly inch their faces closer, closing their eyes as they closed the space between them, their lips connecting into a soft kiss, as the timer on the TV reached zero. Maxim leaned closer to him to deepened the kiss slightly. Brock, obviously new to this, didn't know how to handle this but tried to mirror his movements. After a few seconds of silence were caused by the buffering broadcast, then it was broken again by the applause coming back from the televised crowd. They both pulled away from each other to catch their breath, Brock breathing harder than Maxim. His face was red from the extremely unfamiliar moment shared between the two of them. Maxim notices how much Brock was breathing, and motions for him to rest on his shoulder, and after a few more seconds of gaining his composure, he accepts the offer. He awkwardly shifts over and leans against Maxim's shoulder, his body relaxing after Maxim’s arm is draped around him.

After a few seconds of watching the live TV footage of the cheering crowds, Maxim decides to break the silence.

“So,” Maxim finally said. “How does this feel?”

Brock is silent as he takes time to consider the question. After a few seconds, he says his answer in a hushed whisper, smiling as he rests his head deeper into Maxim’s shoulder. “…perfect…”

—————————————————————————————————

I hope you enjoyed this! I’ll be posting the lone cover art tomorrow morning! 🥦❤️❄️

#no good thing #shorts #original story #brock l. floret #maxim torres #writeblr #ngt shorts

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echoghost1 · 1 year ago

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InvisoBang 2023 - Dawn Of Influence - Chapter 3

Title: Dawn Of Influence Chapter 3 Title: It’s never good to hear a doctor say “Interesting” Summary: Danny is in his senior year of high school. His life, even with his still secret half-ghost nonsense, has settled down to a new, but manageable normal. That is until one day he starts to notice something is off. He doesn’t feel right, so he tries to find out what’s going on. His ghost form is changing but he has no idea what it’s changing into or why. Characters: Danny Fenton, Sam Manson, Tucker Foley, Jazz Fenton, Clockwork, Pandora, Frostbite Total Word Count: 17,010 Trigger Warnings & relevant tags: Mystery, Horror, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Ghost King Danny Fenton

You can find my fic on ao3 and read chapter 3 down below the cut!

The wonderful art that goes with this chapter

Changes & Cold Comfort

Ch 1 | Ch 2 | [you’re here] | Ch 4 | Ch 5 | Ch 6 | Ch 7 | Ch 8 | Ch 9 | Ch 10 | Ch 11 | Ch 12

Danny sat on the exam table and kicked his legs idly as he waited. Part of him was hoping that this trip would have been for nothing. He wanted things to come up normal.

He also didn’t.

He hoped that maybe something was wrong and that Frostbite would be able to fix it.

He’d been feeling like crap for weeks but he really thought it would just go away. He thought it was no big deal.

He was only here because his friends bullied him into coming.

They were only able to bully him into coming because Jazz had apparently talked to them about keeping an eye on him since he had that headache.

He still had that headache.

It hadn’t gone away.

His sides still hurt.

His whole head hurt.

Everything was worse in ghost form, but it was much too cold in the Far Frozen to be sitting around in his human form.

Frostbite finally came back into the room.

“Sorry about the wait, Great One.”

“It’s okay.”

Frostbite had only left to get tools that were the proper size for Danny. AKA small enough.

Danny just had to remind himself that the yetis were just giants and he wasn’t a teeny tiny little guy. He was only small compared to them.

There was nothing wrong with being smaller than a giant. Most people he knew were smaller than giants.

He definitely wasn’t still mad about that growth spurt of his never really kicking in.

Not at all jealous that his friends were both taller than him.

“You were saying your head was hurting, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“Is it any one area or is the pain moving?”

“It’s kinda just at the top, but sometimes I think I feel it in my teeth? Which sounds weird when I say it out loud.”

Frostbite pulled up a chair and gently held Danny’s chin in his claws, “Open your mouth for me.”

Danny did as he was told but wasn’t sure where he was supposed to be looking so he decided the ceiling would be a good choice.

It was a light gray, kind of like cement.

“Ah, I see,” Frostbite said vaguely as he let go of Danny’s chin. “Let me know if this hurts.”

Danny braced himself for potential pain but also really wanted to know what Frostbite wanted to look into his mouth for.

Frostbite tilted Danny’s head forward and moved Danny’s hair around like he was looking for something. He hoped he wasn’t looking for his part because he had too many cowlicks for that.

Then Frostbite brushed up against a part of his head that didn’t feel great. “Ow.”

“Congratulations!” Frostbite said with a huge grin as he leaned back in his chair.

“Congratulations for what?”

“I wasn’t sure, with your half-ghost nature, but I’m happy to report that it looks like your fangs are coming in nicely and your horns are too.”

“My what and who now?”

“Your fangs and horns?” Frostbite said as if those weren’t really weird things to have.

Then again, this was Frostbite. The man also had a tail.

Normal is relative.

“So that’s why my head hurts?”

“Yes, but once the base finishes forming the bulk of the pain will go away.”

Danny reached up to where his horns were apparently growing in but hesitated. Frostbite barely touched it and it hurt.

Instead, he placed a finger on his canine. He couldn’t really feel it through the glove, but he could tell it was longer than before.

“This isn’t going to show up on my human side is it?”

“I’m unsure, Great One. You are the only half-ghost I know.”

He really hoped it wouldn’t. Then again, Vlad had ghost fangs but didn’t have them when he was human. Did he?

He didn’t really spend a lot of time staring at the fruitloop’s mouth. Why would he do that?

“As we are already here, do you mind if I give you a full check-up?”

“Sure.”

“Excellent. Would you mind removing your top? I need to get a core reading.”

Danny nodded and unzipped his suit.

Then he remembered the pain in his side.

He hadn’t really checked on it in a while.

He hadn’t checked to see what it looked like under his suit.

He slipped his arms out from his sleeves but then stopped.

His hands.

When did his nails get that long?

Also, why were they green? Not just his nails, but his fingers and his whole hand, and half of his forearm.

“That’s new,” Frostbite said, sounding just as confused as he was.

“Please tell me this is Ghost Puberty or something.”

“That’s not a thing?”

Danny just whined. That really wasn’t what he wanted to hear.

“Oh, that’s different.”

Danny followed Frostbite’s gaze back to his hands. His skin was losing its vibrant green hue and turning more muted. Almost gray.

The more he watched it the darker it got.

Why was this happening?

He didn’t want this. It felt wrong. Bad.

He hadn’t even fully processed the fact that he was growing fangs and horns.

He couldn’t be changing colors too. At least the other things kind of made sense.

His hand was pitch black now.

It’s not supposed to be.

Why couldn’t he just be normal?

Frostbite pulled him into a hug. “It’s okay, Great One. It’s going to be okay.”

“What’s happening to me?” Danny asked, unable to keep the tremble out of his voice.

“I may not know now, but I will help you find out,” he said as he continued to comfort Danny.

He hugged Frostbite back and did his best to ignore the twinge in his side when he did.

Frostbite’s fur felt nice. The hug felt nice.

Danny wasn’t sure what was happening to him, but he knew he liked hugs.

“Do you think it’s on my other hand too?”

Frostbite leaned back but still kept his arm around Danny, “Did you want to check?”

“Might as well.”

Danny noticed as he took off his other sleeve that the dark color of his skin was shifting back to green.

This time it was more of a blueish green.

His hands matched.

“I have a hunch,” Frostbite started, “but it involves taking your suit off completely.”

As much as Danny didn’t like changing in front of other people, he slipped off his suit. Besides, Frostbite had already seen him in his boxers anyway when he had nearly frozen himself when his ice powers came in.

Plus this was for his health or whatever.

“Interesting,” Frostbite said once Danny was free of his suit.

Danny found his feet matched his hands. Nails more like claws, skin shifting to green that covered his entire foot and went halfway up his calf.

“Were you experiencing any other pain?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“Lift up your arms for a second.”

Danny wasn’t sure why but did it anyway.

“Was it here?” Frostbite pointed to Danny’s sides.

His sides were doing the same color-changing trick as his arms and legs.

“Why is it happening there?”

“Follow me.”

Danny followed Frostbite to a nearby room and was ushered to stand on a platform in the center.

He grabbed a large device that sort of looked like a cross between a laser pointer and a vacuum.

Frostbite aimed his device at Danny and thankfully started to explain what he was about to do before doing it.

“This is our portable scanner. I’m using it because it’s best for precision work.”

Precision. Also known as great for tiny things.

Like Danny.

“What’s it do?”

“It will give me a clearer picture as to what’s going on under your skin.”

“Like an x-ray?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“It won’t hurt, right?”

“Not at all.”

Danny let out a sigh he didn’t realize he was holding.

“Raise your arms up please,” Frostbite instructed.

Danny lifted them up again and tried not to wince as he felt the twinge again.

Frostbite scanned him, mostly focusing on his sides, and then set the device aside.

“You can get dressed if you’d like. It’ll only take a few moments for the images to finish processing.”

Danny got dressed and then came back to see if Frostbite had the results yet.

Frostbite was staring at the screen that took up most of the wall. Danny assumed it was the scan Frostbite just did but Danny wasn’t sure what he was looking at.

He either didn’t know enough about the human body or something weird was going on.

He really hoped it was his poor public school education.

“I have good news and not-so-good news,” Frostbite said once he noticed Danny beside him.

“What’s the good news?”

“I think I know what’s happening in there,” he said, gesturing to the screen.

“And the not-so-good news?”

“I have absolutely no idea why it’s happening to you.”

Danny’s shoulders slumped.

“So what’s happening?”

“I don’t know how else to say this, so I’ll be blunt.”

Danny took a breath and waited for the news.

“It looks like you’re growing a second pair of arms.”

#danny phantom #phan fic #invisobang 2023 #danny fenton #frostbite (danny phantom)

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therealvinelle · 4 years ago

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Hi, your metas are super interesting, and even if I really enjoy fanon twilight, it's really cool to read opinions based only on canon too!

So my question is about the sexual orientation of the Cullens, do you think they all straight?

For example i saw someone saying that Edward maybe was demisexual and it left me thinking, so i just wanted to know your opinions about it :)

In short, no.

In alphabetical order:

Alice is with a man, but without getting into the mess that is Alice/Jasper here, I don’t think theirs is a particularly physical relationship. I mean, if Alice wanted to get laid, she could just decide to fuck Jasper, enjoy the vision, and bam. Itch scratched. Thanks, Jazz. Alright, I’ll be serious. Alice and Jasper are with each other because the other represents salvation, not so much because of a personal or physical attraction but because of mysticism. So to me that doesn’t really say much about Alice’s preference. All the same I can’t see Alice having a particular preference, she’s too... Alice. Although it is easier to picture her with women. She is also the second half of the Alice/Bella homoerotic extravaganza, which makes heterosexual Alice even more farfetched to me. So, bisexual or lesbian Alice.

Bella shows clear attraction to women as well as men. She’s attracted to Rosalie, Alice, Edward, and Carlisle. I’ll just give you guys quotes: Of the three boys, one was big — muscled like a serious weight lifter, with dark, curly hair. Another was taller, leaner, but still muscular, and honey blond. The last was lanky, less bulky, with untidy, bronze-colored hair. He was more boyish than the others, who looked like they could be in college, or even teachers here rather than students. The girls were opposites. The tall one was statuesque. She had a beautiful figure, the kind you saw on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue, the kind that made every girl around her take a hit on her self-esteem just by being in the same room. Her hair was golden, gently waving to the middle of her back. The short girl was pixielike, thin in the extreme, with small features. Her hair was a deep black, cropped short and pointing in every direction. (Twilight, page 9) This is the Cullens’ introduction. I won’t spend much time on it, just notice the difference between Rosalie and the others. Rosalie is highlighted in a way Alice is not, and Edward is at first glance only the boyish one of the guys. Rosalie was the Cullen whose beauty immediately stood out to Bella. It was hard to decide who was the most beautiful — maybe the perfect blond girl, or the bronze-haired boy. (sic.) Bella has realized by now that Edward’s a grade A hottie, but she’s still torn between him and Rosalie. Bella then gets to know Alice, and they become friends who take showers together(!). Rosalie may be the most attractive Cullen woman, but Alice is the one Bella gets emotionally close to. We get this in New Moon: UNNATURALLY STILL AND WHITE, WITH LARGE BLACK EYES intent on my face, my visitor waited perfectly motionless in the center of the halt, beautiful beyond imagining. (...) I locked my arms around her, gasping to inhale as much of the scent of her skin as possible. It wasn't like anything else—not floral or spice, citrus or musk. No perfume in the world could compare. My memory hadn't done it justice. (New Moon, page 191) Bella never thought she’d never see any of the Cullens again, so for her to be hysterical and ecstatic upon seeing her second favorite is not by itself damning. I’m sure she’d be ecstatic to see Emmett too. It’s that fact that she’d missed Alice’s scent that’s interesting. The scent of her skin was something Bella was aware of before they parted. And while it may be tempting to say “it’s because they’re vampires, Bella’s admiring them like she would a work of art!”, Bella never dwells on Esme, Jasper, or Emmett in this way. Jasper and Emmett especially are not admired beyond the introduction of their characters. We never hear about what any of them smell like, nor does Bella remark upon their beauty after waking up a vampire. Carlisle and Edward, by comparison, are men she keeps noticing. Bella finds Carlisle blindingly beautiful when she first sees him as a vampire, and there’s this from New Moon: Though it erased the sting, it reminded me of the gash, and I watched Carlisle's face carefully to distract me from what his hands were doing. His hair gleamed gold in the bright light as he bent over my arm. (New Moon, page 18) There’s thinking someone is pretty, and then there’s gazing lovingly upon their face instead of pain killers. Bella is bisexual.

Carlisle moved in with a very gay man, had a close relationship with him, lived with him for the sake of his company for decades, and only left because of dietary differences. We don’t know for sure whether they actually had an affair or not, but the fact remains that of all the Cullens, Carlisle is the one who is implied to have had a homosexual relationship in canon. He loses his straight card based on that alone. Also gonna link this clip, because I’m Mac listening to Edward talk about how young Carlisle lived with this sexy Mycenaean Greek for a few decades when he was young. Aro is all the santas. Carlisle is bisexual.

Edward... oh boy. His brain is supposedly seventeen, and yet this very interesting thing happens in his relationship with Bella where he never notices her body. Not ever. By body I mean curves. Edward notices Bella’s skin, her frailty, her humanity. He praises her blushes, her doe-like eyes, her warmth, her softness, her swan-like neck, her delicious scent. The feminine aesthetic. He does not once notice her tits. The only tits he is on record noticing belong to Siobhan, and it’s because she has an impossible to ignore rack: She was profoundly female in shape—aggressively, forcefully female. (Midnight Sun, chapter Probability) It’s one thing for him to be old-fashioned and too quintessentially Edward to even think the word “boob”, but in 700+ pages of Midnight Sun there’s just this absence of this seventeen-year-old noticing her curves. More damningly, when seeing Alice’s vision of vampire!Bella, Edward is horrified at the sight of his love cold and hard. He doesn’t describe vampire!Bella by any of the positives, like “flawless”. Edward is attracted to the human, not the woman. What that means for his sexuality... well, I’m going to go ahead and point out that he is very weird about Carlisle, and it’s damning that the personality he projects onto Bella is so similar to Carlisle. I hesitate to apply a label here, but in my own, personal, headcanon we’re veering towards homosexual. Deeeeeeply closeted homosexual.

Emmett is straight. Straightest guy ever to straight.

Esme is pretty clearly taken with Carlisle. Though if she were to feel attracted towards another woman, I imagine she’d have no idea what to make of that, if she even recognized it for what it was. She’s from a very different time and still living in that time, and she continues to be very sheltered. Still, as per my personal headcanon, I see her as straight.

Jasper, who knows. Though if he’s into guys, he has probably gone for it in the past. I suppose I should write a meta on vampires and sexual norms in general, but in short I don’t think they all live monogamously like the Cullens. STDs and pregnancies are unheard of, as is social ostracizing. Vampires are hedonistic, Twilight vampires more so than any other. Which in turn means I don’t think Maria and Jasper were monogamous. A couple, sure, but I don’t think Maria would say “oh noes, I can’t, I’m with Jasper!” if someone she was attracted to made an overture, and same goes for Jasper. So, if Jasper was into guys, then sure. I can see Jasper/Peter happening, or even Charlotte/Jasper/Peter. Jasper is certainly into women, with the possibility of guys as well. And if so, then it’s probably happened.

Rosalie I’m shocked is with a guy in the first place, everything about her screams lesbian. However, she’s clearly into Emmett, so apparently she’s bisexual.

(I’m not including Renesmée in this, since she’s three months old by the time the series conclude.)

This all being said, several of these people are from very different times and wouldn’t have the same concepts of sexuality internalized as we do, so how they’d identify is a very different matter.

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angelofsmalldeathandthecodeine · 5 years ago

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Aguamenti

Request: “Can you do 1 and 8 on the smut list for Fred or George?”

(”Bite me”/”You’re so sexy when you’re mad”)

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: I didn't want to make it too smutty just because I didn’t think it fit too well with everything going on so its a little trash :/ I still love my boi Freddie

Warnings: A LITTLE SMUTTY

Upon proposition, both you and Harry had agreed to teach what he was calling ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ a series of spells and techniques that were deprived of them since Umbridge had arrived. You were a little hesitant at first, and not because of Umbridge, god how you hated that woman. Your worries lay with the responsibility that you and Harry had if entering this agreement, you didn’t want to put anyone in danger.

Of course, you and Harry had become almost experts in the field of Defence Against the Dark Arts, you especially due to your close relationship with Lupin. Remus had taught you pretty much all you needed to know in the comfort of your own home, whereas Harry kind of had to pick it up considering the various dangerous circumstances he seemed to land himself in year after year.

You couldn’t disappoint Harry, not when he needed you, he was like family after all.

“Today me and Y/N are going to be demonstrating a typical duel” Harry announced to the rather sheepish looking crowd “and more importantly, how to win one” you chimed in successfully gaining a laugh from the room.

After bowing your heads, you and Harry began to take your places from one end of the room to another with each other.

“Ready?” Harry asked for confirmation; however, you couldn’t help but get distracted last minute. In the corner of your eye you noticed one of your best friends, Fred, flirting with Angelina Johnson.

You, Fred and George had been friends ever since you joined the Quidditch team in your first year, but recently you had felt differently towards Fred. Getting older gave you feelings you didn’t necessarily understand and on the most part Fred just seemed to annoy you these days – especially when he flaunted around girls.

“Actually Harry, change of plans” you began, causing him to lower his wand in a state of bewilderment “I think it’s best if we use a student with less knowledge for the demonstration, you know, for uh, a better example of the power they’ll be up against” you tried to justify your decision.

“Right, right, yeah of course!” Harry agreed, just as you knew he would, that boy was too nice for his own good sometimes “who did you have in mind?”

“Fred” you said without hesitation or a second thought, getting his attention instantly.

Fred looked up and gave you an overly confident smile which just boiled your blood further “love to” was his only reply.

You smiled back sarcastically, gritting your teeth in the process.

Beginning to take your place once more, Harry was replaced by a much taller, attractive Fred. He proceeded to roll his sleeves, giving you a glimpse at the veins running throughout his arms.

Pay attention

“Ready Fred?” Harry initiated “Ready to win? Sure am mate” Fred replied, gaining a giggle from a lot of the girls, you just rolled your eyes.

“Bite me, Weasley” you replied, a little more frustrated than you were five minutes ago, causing Fred to smirk.

Harry nodded and you and Fred proceeded to walk towards each other for the initial bow. As you both reached the middle, Fred bent down slightly more so you could hear him.

“You’re so sexy when you’re mad” he said, causing you to instantly blush. You knew he was a flirty guy, but you didn’t think he had ever said anything as flirty as that to you before.

Turning around to walk to the end of the room gave you what felt like forever to think about what had just happened, getting slightly distracted from the matter.

“Wands to the ready” Harry announced, arm still mid-air.

You were now directly facing Fred and looking him in the eye seemed a little awkward considering your flustered state. In attempts to compose yourself you looked to the crowd gathered either side of you and caught glimpse of Angelina smiling at Fred.

Instantly you were reminded of your frustration which only engaged you in a deep focus against Fred, locking eyes with him confidently.

Harry swiftly dropped his arm, indicating the beginning of the duel.

“Aguamenti!” you pronounced clearly with a flick of your wand before Fred was even able to utter a single letter.

Suddenly Fred was flung to the back wall through the jet-like force of the water that hit him.

Fred lay on the floor, drenched from head to toe gaining a roaring laugh from those watching – especially George and Ron.

You smirked at Fred, heavily breathing at not just the thrill of winning the duel but the sight of Fred, clothes wet and him distressed.

What was wrong with you.

“Hmm, yeah, not really the spell I had in mind but good job Y/N” Harry commented as Ginny began to help Fred up, still laughing in his face.

“Yeah well, I thought I’d leave the rest up to you” you replied in a sort agitated tone which left a puzzled look on Harry’s face.

“Got to go Harry, you’ll be alright without me today won’t you?” you quietly spoke to him, who just nodded, completely understanding.

As you began walking towards the exit you were stopped in your tracks upon hearing a voice that had started to infuriate you a little too much recently.

“Y/N wait” you heard him get closer “I’ll come with you, gotta get changed out of these bloody wet clothes anyway” he explained, giving a genuine smile.

“great” you mumbled giving another sarcastic smile.

On the way to the common room you seemed to forget all about the incident that had wound you up, it was strange that Fred had the ability to make you do that – forget about your worries. Joking and laughing all the way up made you feel like a kid again, first year meeting the twins.

That was until you reached the common room, and Fred proceeded to take off his jumper of course. You were sitting in Fred’s empty dorm room, on his bed watching him find dry uniform to change into. The moment had never seemed weird until now – until you couldn’t stop staring at his bare chest through the now transparent shirt that clung to him.

You could feel your heart rate increase as you started to heavily breathe once more, transfixed on Fred. An overwhelming sensation began to consume your stomach.

Fred was rambling on about the upcoming Quidditch game, but you couldn’t help yourself any longer. You knew exactly what had been troubling you these past couple of months with Fred and you were about to prove it.

You stood up, growing closer to Fred who had his back turned to you as he still searched for dry clothes crouched over his trunk.

“Fred” you simply said, gaining his attention.

He turned to face you slowly standing, a little worried about what you were about to say from your posture and breathing.

“yeah?”

“Shut up” you lifted your heels to reach Fred, locking your fingers between his auburn hair and crashing your lips against his.

Instantly he did as told, feeding both yours and his own hunger by kissing you passionately back. Fred wrapped his long arms around your waist and pulled you closer into him, allowing the water on his shirt to almost turn into steam.

The kiss was hard but soft at the same time, not allowing the opportunity for a breath between you. Fred’s hands suddenly reached further down your waist as he swiftly lifted you, holding you in his arms for a moment before placing you on his cabinet.

Having the freedom of his arms back he returned the favour of entangling his fingers between your hair, slightly tugging on it as his kiss grew more desperate, sending shivers down your spine.

Fred’s lips slowly moved away from your own as he lifted the hair between his fingers, trailing kisses from your jawline down to your neck, causing you to let out soft moans.

As he did you frantically began unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it from his still damp body. Each kiss he placed on you made the butterflies in your stomach flutter a little harder, pulling at his hair signalling for him to continue.

Fred assisted you in taking the rest of his shirt of, as he started to take your tie off all the while still kissing your neck which sent you crazy. You rolled your head back at the tingling sensation of Fred’s sucking of your neck paired with his warm breath growling in your ear.

“I lied earlier” Fred gave a breathily whisper in your ear “You’re so sexy all the time” he continued, giving you an intense feeling.

You fiercely grabbed Fred’s face once more continuing to impulsively engage in your heavy make-out session.

Before you knew it your shirt was being unbuttoned, revealing nothing but your bra and bare skin exposed… but you didn’t mind one bit, in fact it felt so right you couldn’t believe it had took this long for you and Fred to be half naked together.

“Nice to see you two getting along again” you jumped out of your skin, quickly attempting to cover whatever part of you was exposed as you looked up to see a very casual George sending a wink your way.

“Christ George!” you yelled which just caused him to burst out laughing “Well then! Turn around!” you exclaimed as Fred picked up your shirt for you to start putting back on.

“Don’t worry, I’m leaving… detention with Umbridge, have fun you two” George said giving you both another wink.

Your state of shock was eased by Fred who began to giggle, resting his forehead on yours.

“Seriously Y/N… you don’t understand how long I’ve wanted that to happen” Fred confessed, butterflies rising once again in your stomach.

“Me too” you grinned, pulling his head down for another kiss.

#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley one shot #fred weasley fanfiction #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley oneshot #george weasley imagine #fred weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #fred weasley smut #weasley twins #weasley twins smut #Harry Potter #harry potter imagine #weasley twins x reader

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ofpineapplesanddawns · 3 years ago

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@duraffinity @out-grid I hope you enjoy a terribly inaccurate horse riding lesson because I haven’t ridden a horse since I was, like, thirteen and I remember nothing of what I learned from it.

Also, it feels too formal for me to call him Boldwood, haha.

Forgive me if this comes out weird, I’ve only slept for two hours and I am still... oof.

On with the fic!

“How is it that you’ve never ridden a horse before?” William asked, approaching the stables on his property, prepared to take the new mare out for a bit of a run around the property, get her used to her new home.

“I have ridden a camel, if that counts.” Phileas spoke, following behind William as the man came to a stop, walking up to the new mare.

Her name was Sali, a lovely red-coated horse from a seller in Wales that William was still in contact with. She cost a pretty penny, but oh, she was beautiful, and William was excited to ride her about his property. He turned to face Phileas, who kept a distance from the stables.

“I don’t know if a camel counts, but it is a rather large, hooved animal, so maybe?” He chuckled. “Maybe I could take you simple riding skills, so you have an idea in case you wish to ride one of the horses.”

“I-I don’t know if that would be something I’m interested in.” The older man stuttered, looking unsure.

“Nonsense! It’s a good skill to have, come here, meet Sali. She’d be perfect for you to ride. She’s very well trained and very sweet, from my few rides with her.”

Phileas looked hesitant but approached, holding out a hand to touch the large snout. Sali, for her part, just huffed, letting Phileas gently pet her. “She’s, uh, rather big.” Phileas commented, still petting her.

“Actually, she’s one of my smaller ones.” William replied, motioning for a stable boy to come over and get Sali prepared to be ridden. Phileas stepped back, letting the young servant, Marcus, if William remembered correctly, get Sali out of her pen and ready for her ride out onto the property.

As Marcus worked, William turned to his friend, explaining a bit about the art of horseback riding. “It is really simple, once you get the hang of it, Phileas.” He said as he was given the reins.

“You say that, but then something happens, and I end up getting harmed.” Phileas said, looking nervous.

“I won’t let that happen.” William replied, placing a hand on the small of Phileas’ back, walking him and Sali out towards a large, fenced off pen outside. It was for his newer animals, to get used to the new area before they would be integrated onto his vast property.

Typically, there were sheep inside, but not today, meaning it was the perfect place for Phileas to attempt to ride a horse. It was big enough for good running and prancing for Sali, but small enough that it wouldn’t be overwhelming for a new rider like Phileas. Despite his adventures, he was still a bit of a delicate man from having spent most of his life hiding away from the world.

Phileas looked rather pink in the face as they walked, his back straight, his eyes focused ahead of him, but William didn’t miss the occasional glance in his direction. He didn’t remove his hand until they got into the pen and he turned to his friend. “How about one ride around the ring, just a walking pace, alright?”

The taller man glanced at the horse, who was now eating at the clovers at her hooves, not paying a lick of attention to them. “One ride?”

“Just one, and I’ll walk around with you, taking hold of her lead, alright? It should be a much more pleasant experience than a camel, I’m sure.”

“Less bumpy, I assume.” Phileas mumbled as he approached Sali, who didn’t even glance back at him, too busy with her treat. He looked at the saddle, tried to get himself up...

Only to completely slip off. William moved quickly to grab him before he dropped to the ground. “Right, that takes a bit of practice.” He chuckled softly, still holding Phileas as he instructed him on what to do.

He ignored the heat building up in his chest as he held Phileas until the man was finally up on the saddle, holding onto the reins with a death grip. William took his hands, carefully pried his fingers open to loosen the grip, before he started to walk Sali. “Don’t worry, my friend, I’ve got you. I won’t let you fall.”

Phileas looked at him, unsure, but he nodded, sitting up straight. He still looked rather uncomfortable, but as they slowly made their way along the fence, he started to ease up. “This is... different.”

“Different?”

“Usually when I’m around horses, I’m in a carriage.”

William chuckled. “Well, when you live out on a large farm, you tend to ride on the horses, not just behind them on a seat. It’s not a bad skill to have, especially out here.”

“I’m still not sure it’s something I need to know.”

“But what if there is an emergency and you’re the only one who can travel to one of my further neighbors. To do that in a quick situation, you need to be able to ride one of my horses.”

“Then let us hope that there is no emergency where that has to happen.”

The snippy tone of the remark made William laugh, and Phileas seemed to find it funny as well, joining in.

Soon, they finished the walk around the fence and William looked up at Phileas. “How was that? Care for another go?”

“I...” Phileas licked his bottom lip. “Would you, uh, would you ride with me this next go around? So I know if I am sitting properly, and such?”

William blinked, surprised by the request. It wouldn’t be the first time he had ridden with someone on the same horse, but the idea of doing so with Phileas made that warmth blossom in his chest again. “That sounds like a reasonable idea.”

With skills from years of this, William got himself up on the horse with ease, sitting behind Phileas to give him a bit more control. He pressed himself close to the taller man, who seemed to tense up instantly. William ignored this, reaching around to take hold of the reins, putting his hands over Phileas’ own.

“Alright, let’s do this slowly, listen to my commands, and you will be able to walk her around on her own.” William said softly against Phileas’ ear, and the man just nodded, seeming at a loss for words.

William gave him simple directions, easy enough to remember, to get Sali to move under Phileas’ command. It was slow moving, but Phileas started to relax, even leaning back a little against William’s chest, as they walked the horse once more around the enclosure.

They were quiet as they did this, with William sometimes making a comment or giving an instruction. There was something so different about what William was doing compared to the many other times he had ridden with someone like this, he just didn’t understand why.

Maybe it was because it was Phileas in his hold? The man seemed to make him feeling oddly, in a good way, quite often. For the sake of his mind, William decided not to focus too much on the warmth in his chest as they made a third trip around, seemingly without Phileas noticing.

Phileas falling off a horse looks like when David fell off one in a blooper from Casanova. No grace, only laughs.

#william boldwood x phileas fogg #john's drabbles #good omens extended universe

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smutbunny119 · 4 years ago

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Cornered; Taeyong x Reader ft. Sungchan and Jaemin

Description: He was powerful, an idol with an established career, money, and a company that could brush this incident under the rug in 5 seconds flat. And what were you? A chubby college intern learning how to do makeup from the staff. You had no power. No power to make him leave you alone, no power to make him stop his insults. He hated you, but even worse, he wouldn’t leave you alone. Lee Taeyong was your worst nightmare. But could Sungchan, a young member of NCT be the one to save you? Or even more unexpected, Jaemin?

WARNING: Contains verbal and physical harassment, sexual harassment, bullying, degradation, non con, and smut, eventual fluff, hurt/comfort, yuh

Genre: Smut, Angst, fluff, hate to love, slow burn.

This is explicit, contains dark shit, and will contain non consensual sex. Reader beware. I do not condone these behaviors at all, it is simply for the story. If it makes you uncomfortable, do not read it.

Chapter One- Idol unleashed

You were dead set on becoming a makeup fx artist for a larger entertainment company. Hopefully big enough to make a living and be a real part of the industry before your late twenties. But for now, any offer would do considering you were a college student struggling to pay off her student loans and needed all the experience you could get. So when you got a partially paid internship offer at SM entertainment (14,000 won/hour on weekends) You said yes without hesitation, even though you had no interest in that type of makeup artistry. Credentials were credentials, and working at SM entertainment was great resume fluff.

When you first arrived at the SM stocking facility to receive a quick vetting from the older makeup artist supervisors, the eldest woman (who looked very chic), gave you a harsh look. “You understand that being a makeup artist of your age, 21, and working alongside idols your age, you are to have no verbal interactions with them that extend beyond professional exchange?” She asked, eyeing you up and down suspiciously. You were confused. Working on idols makeup? You didn’t realize you’d actually have to do idols makeup. You assumed it would all be intern shit like getting coffee and paperwork. You nodded tentatively.

Of course you had no desire to fuckin flirt it up with random k idols you were doing makeup on. You had never really been interested in kpop, although you listened to a couple girl groups here and there. You preferred international music, classical music, oh and you loved Frank Sinatra. Besides, you were not in the mood to be booted from your first internship ever on account of hitting on some fancy idol who wouldn’t look twice at you. No thanks, you had pride.

The makeup artist Senior nodded at you, satisfied with your response.”Alright, I’ll trust you young lady. We usually don’t hire unwed makeup artists on account of the risk, but your professors went on and on about your skills that we decided to bring you in to do some of the strobe makeup for NCT 2020. Understood?”

You nodded, feeling a bit giddy. This was actually going to be exciting.

That afternoon, you collected your supplies from you *official* SM makeup cubical. It was amazing products you were allowed to keep! High quality brushes, velvet foundation, BB cream, glitter in pots, shadows, tints... your dream. Still clutching the quality products in your shaking hands, you walked to the elevator which lead to the 8th floor- The floor you’d be doing 10 of the 23 NCT 2020 members makeup. You had to admit, although you were by no means an NCT fan, doing the makeup of such talented and handsome men would certainly be nerve wracking. You had the concept and instructions on a sheet of paper for each member’s makeup, and you had already memorized it~ Yuta was getting bright red eyeshadow on the very edges of his lids with Mimimal dewy makeup, Jaemin was getting subtle glitter on his under eyes with a brown shadow and natural lip tint- The only problem was, you didn’t know which member was which. You sighed. Oh well, you’d get the hang of it eventually. The elevator doors opened, and a heavy scent of setting spray, hairspray, sweat, hot lights, and a bunch of other smells flew into your face. You quickly exited the elevator into the room with a bunch of idols-23 to be exact- doing a variety of things. Getting their hair done, their makeup applied, changing their clothes (You quickly averted your eyes), and stretching. The minute you walked in though, everything went silent, and their eyes were fixated on you. Mixed expressions of confusion, annoyance, and fear on their faces. It took you a minute to realize that they must’ve not been used to younger women being their makeup artists, and assumed you were either a sasaeng... or confused rando.

The makeup senior woman quickly ran to the front of the room, grabbing you by the arm and yanking you towards the center. “Everyone, listen up. This is Y/L/N. She is a sophomore at Chengdu University of Arts, and will work for the next few months as a makeup artist. I understand you are not used to having college students work as your stylist, but she is very... gifted, and highly spoke of at her college. She has won several awards in the arts, and seeks to expand her portfolio. Thank you!”

You smiled curtly as the makeup Senior gave you a firm pat on the back. You looked around the room with a thin professional smile, nodding slightly to indicate respect and distance. Your eyes were briefly caught on one of the members, you weren’t sure who but he was looking at you very coldly, and began unpacking your supplies. You checked your member list hastily to find the first name on the list. “Sungchan.”

Looking up blankly, you scanned the room for some indication of a “Sungchan.” Realizing you had no clue who this could be, you walked up to a member who looked a bit younger than you with white hair, clearing your throat. The member looked up at you with a awkward smile. “Hello, sorry about this but would you mind directing me to the member who goes by ‘Sungchan?’ I’m not familiar entirely with memeber names yet.”

The idol looked back at you questioningly, before nodding. “Of course. He’s over there by the guy with medium brown hair on the vanity. I’m Jaemin, by the way.”

You nodded politely. “I will be doing your makeup as well Jaemin. I will return shortly.”

You walked quickly away from the idol, feeling your heart flutter slightly at the interaction. He was very handsome, with clear tan skin and a great canvas for dewy glittery makeup. He was gorgeous, and you couldn’t help but feel excited at the prospect of applying makeup to such a clean and fresh face.

Smack

You went crashing into a taller figure, stumbling as you crashed beside them. Instantly panic arose in your body, scrambling to your feet to help the person up. The minute you looked down at the person, your blood ran cold. It was him. The guy you had made awkward not-so-friendly eye contact with. Looking at his face, you were filled with a sense of uncomfortable dread. His narrowed cat like eyes were cold and black. He was gorgeous, easily the most beautiful person you had ever laid eyes on. With dark brown hair, pale smooth skin and an angular unreal face, you would already be intimidated enough to see his face in general. But he was glowering. Full on glaring at you, a look of pure contempt as he ignored you outstretched land, getting to his feet gracefully. Looking you up and down, the beautiful boy narrowed his eyes and leaned in menacingly. You took a step back, nearly tripping on your sneaker laces. “I’m so sorry sir, I didn’t mean to be so clumsy. My mistake.” You sputtered out meekly, bowing your head as you felt your face burn.

“Stop it.” You looked up as you heard his low gravely voice spit out the harsh words. You looked at him confusedly, tilting your head. The boy scoffed, leaning in once more.

“I honestly can’t believe the nerve. You walk in here, with your sloppy hideous clothes and pudgy body. You act as if you have never heard of us like some innocent little makeup artist. Cut the shit. Don’t ‘accidentally’ bump into me. Don’t look at me. Filthy sasaeng.”

You gawked at him. You? Sasaeng? You didn’t even know this boy’s name.

“Taeyong hyung, stop it.” You heard a voice from behind you and you turned around to see Jaemin, clearly concerned for the harsh words being spat at you.

The boy named Taeyong just glared back at Jaemin, eyes flicking between you and him. “Jaemin, zip it. Look at her. Fat little crazy fan girl who thought she’d get a chance with her favorite idol by stalking them. The nerve of her to come here looking like that. Dressed like this.” He made a disgusted face as you hung your head low. You weren’t the most confident in your looks, but you didn’t think you were hideous. You had always been a bit pudgy, but standards here were so strict. You liked your appearance.

The boy named Taeyong walked by you, shoulder knocking into the side of your arm as you scurried away from him towards the guy named sungchan. You were fighting back tears and embarrassment, and you pulled your hair hastily into pigtails before snapping on some latex gloves to keep your makeup sanitary. The guy in front of you, Sungchan, who had observed the whole thing (Everyone had), had a look of concern on his face.

Whipping out the medium beige foundation, you dabbed some of the glossy product onto you back of your glove with the brush. The guy named Sungchan looked at you expectantly, but you didn’t meet his gaze. You weren’t in the mood to be screamed and degraded again, so you wouldn’t take your chances. Dabbing a smooth hydrating toner onto the boy’s flawless complexion, you couldn’t help but feel a few tears slip out of your eyes. It was embarassing, but you were human. You had feelings, and self esteem. Well, you did have self esteem. Sungchan seemed to be concerned, or maybe he just thought you were weird.

“Hello, Y/L/N, I’m Sungchan. How old are you?” He asked kindly, bright smile on his face. You were shocked at the warm introduction, and returned his smile. “Nice to meet you, and I’m 19,” You replied, smoothing the product across his face. The boy’s smile widened, and he glanced at you in the mirror while you began to apply a light eyeshadow across his eyes. “So you’re my age then. Let’s speak informally then.” He responded, making you nearly drop your brush.

This idol wanted you to speak to him informally? Was he serious? You couldn’t help but blush at his friendly personality, and couldn’t keep a smile off your face as you continued applying the shadow. “Alright Sungchan, sounds great!”

***********

As you made your way down the list of idols, you found most were very kind to you. They were all stunning, and you found your eyes glued to their faces even when the makeup was finished. You did makeup for Yuta, who was so polite and courteous, Haechan, who was simply adorable, and the rest of the 6 idols. Including Jaemin, who chatted with you throughout the entire ordeal, complimenting your pink grubby sneakers, awkward hoodie over skirt with sweatpants outfit, and even you messy ponytail. You thought he was just trying to be nice after everything Taeyong said to you, but you still appreciated the gesture. After finishing the older boy’s makeup, there was only one more name on the list. Lee Taeyong. Your stomach lurched as you realized you would have to be near him, touch his face. As if he would even let you. Gulping dryly, you zipped up your products and snapped a new pair of latex gloves on. Your hair was tied back, you roughly put on a mask to minimize exposure to the idol. You didnt want him to stare at your face.

Walking curtly over to where he sat, you bowed politely before unpacking your makeup. Pushing on a pair of glasses to make your work as good as possible, you heard the idol’s chair push away from the desk. “Are you fucking with me?” He asked loudly, causing everyone in the room to glance his way, quieting instantly. “I don’t want this sasaeng’s sausage fingers anywhere near me.” He spat, making you cringe at his wordchoice. The guy you had done makeup on by the name Jaehyun sighed, leaning across the table. “Hyung, she’s a very quick makeup artist. You can request to have a different makeup Noona do your makeup next time.”

You gripped the brush tightly, anger and embarrassment searing through your body. You shouldn’t have to take this. This idol shouldn’t be talking to you this way. The idol scoffed and sat down loudly, causing your makeup bag to crash to the floor, colorful pallets clapping open, makeup spilling everywhere. You just stared at the colorful mess, feeling your face heat with anger. You couldn’t stop the tears that rolled down your cheeks as you picked up hundreds of dollars of beautiful, destroyed makeup. Makeup you would never be able to afford otherwise. You looked up through your teary eyes at the idol. He was smirking at you, arms crossed and legs spread in a entitled position. What a jerk.

Plopping the wrecked makeup onto the table, you yanked a plumping toner out of the side pocket, shaking some onto a face pack. You felt his eyes on yours. Luckily the mask hid your sniffly nose and quivering lip, but your read teary eyes were on clear display. “Take off the mask.”

His words cut through the once again quiet air. You heard someone across the room stand up from their chair. “Jaemin sit down.” You heard another voice say.

Taeyong looked up at you expectantly. “It’s rude to hide your face from your clients.” He said again, amusement across his face. You ripped the mask off your face, holding back more tears. Your face was undoubtedly puffy and red, not exactly the most flattering. You took the face pack out of the toner solution and lifted it to Taeyong’s flawless face, hiccuping still. He looked at you intensely, with an unreadable expression. “How old are you Noona?” Taeyong asked, and you nearly recoiled. Noona? You were six years younger than him. Was he insulting you? “19.” You replied sharply, ignoring his scoff. “I suppose you think I’m going to let you call me oppa.” He said, making a face to himself.

“I’d rather not.” You replied, dotting the makeup onto his skin. You felt a large hand grab your wrist, gripping it uncomfortably tight. “Cut the shit. You are younger than me.” He said, glaring up at you. You ripped your hand from his grip, slamming your makeup onto the table. “Do not touch me.” You said more harshly than you intended. Taeyong briefly had a look of shock on his face, and you could feel the tension in the room. “I will refer to you as Taeyong-Nim. If that is unsuitable I can do Taeyong Ssi instead.”

His face contorted into an expression of rage, and you resumed patting the product into his face. You were doing your best to ignore his gaze, but then you felt a hand on your stomach. you flinched back as the hand gabbed your lower belly, and you shrieked.

You heard loud laughter from him, and you looked up in horror. “Holy shit your stomach is so fat. What the fuck you are fucking chubby as fuck.” You sat there, face numb and body shaking. He had touched your stomach. “God i hate fat and ugly bitches, you are fucking disgusting.” You felt tears finally stream down your cheeks. You couldn’t do this. “Taeyong hyung that’s enough!” Someone yelled across the room and you looked up to see Jaemin running across. He put a hand around your shoulder and lifted you off the ground carefully. You were grateful he was defending you, but you honestly were too scared to thank him. Taeyong took a step towards you, eyes dark and angry. “Stay out of this Jaemin,” He iced, hands clenched tightly into fists. Jaemin didn’t budge.

“Taeyong Hyung please. I really think it’s enough.” Jaehyun spoke to Taeyong over his shoulder, and finally Taeyong clenched his jaw, turning away from you. He stood up, stretched, and peeled off his shirt, letting it fall to the ground. He turned to you and walked past, unclothed shoulder bumping into yours as he passed. He was going to get changed for the show.

Originally posted by haechan

******

The next few days were... hell. From harsh remarks, from Taeyong’s aggressive attitude which was solely reserved for you. It seemed never ending. In addition, Taeyong had begun encouraging you to do his makeup as opposed to avoiding you. Constant insults on your work, appearance, outfit choice, weight.

At night you had nightmares about the pretty boy insulting you, yelling at you. His harsh words and insults seemed never ending.

The following day you walked into work early, hair pulled back in two sleek pigtails and faint pink makeup applied. You were to attend a special party later that night, so you had a fluffy baby pink sweater on with a short white tennis skirt, pink floral necklace, and adorable espadrilles. You may not have looked sexy, but you certainly look adorable. Your older brother had commented on how you looked precious when you FaceTimed him. When you walked into the near empty room you plopped your products onto Taeyong’s makeup table, collapsing onto the chair with exhaustion. It was only 4 AM, and work didnt start for another 2 hours. You tried to focus on staying alert, but before you knew it you were out cold.

You woke up to find a figure standing over you in the chair. You were groggily aware of your surroundings, and noticed the “5:36″ time on the wall clock. Snapping to your senses, you nearly tripped out of the chair when you realized the figure standing over the chair was Taeyong.

“I knew it.” His voice was like ice, and the only light shining behind him in the room made him a shadow, unable to make out any of the features on his face. As he stepped closer and his face came into the light it was like a villain coming out of the shadows. Pure terror clutched your body as you shuffled away from the intimidating figure frantically. Leaning down towards you, you saw the coldness on his expression. The blank gaze that lay behind those beautiful, horrible eyes.

“Stop it Taeyong, that’s enough!” You yelled, trying to push yourself off the ground. Taeyong laughed coldly at your pathetic state, and you felt his large hands shoved you back into the wall painfully. “Dropping honorifics, are we?” He asked, pacing back in forth like a predator. You attempted to run to the door but his hand intercepted you, shoving you back again. “No. You came here early just to rub yourself all over my chair. You really do want me, don’t you you ugly bitch?” He asked, a combination of disgust and crazed amusement on his face.

“I was tired!” You nearly screamed, shoving him back with just as much force. His lips curled with disgust as he continued glaring at you. “I don’t buy that shit. I’ve known enough sasaengs in my life to recognize one.”

You glared back at him. “Taeyong, leave me the fuck alone. I’m done putting up with your unprofessional behavior. I have no interest in your childish games, and I refuse to do your makeup any more.”

Taeyong’s eyes widened in shock for a brief second, and then it was replaced with rage. But you were done. You walked up to your makeup bag to move your stuff over to Doyoung’s desk. He was your first client for today, now that Taeyong was no longer- “You have no right to refuse me.”

Your blood ran cold as those words came from directly behind you, and before you could whirr around you felt yourself harshly pressed into the vanity in front of you, large hand shoving you. You screeched, kicking back to break from Taeyong’s hands, but he was a much stronger than you. “You are nothing, you ugly slut! If I tell you you’re doing my fucking makeup, you’re doing it!” He was full on yelling, and you could barely breathe under his crushing hold.

“T-Taeyong Ssi, st-” You croaked out, shoving him back. He flipped you over, anger and derangement flooding his eyes, You felt his hand wrap around your neck, and you began to gasp as it tightened. He was strangling you, you couldn’t breathe. What the fuck was this psycho thinking? You faintly heard a clinking sound, the clinking of a belt. Your stomach filled with dread as you realized what was happening. He wouldn’t.... would he? You thrashed harder. “Fucking bitch” You heard him say when you landed a kick to his thigh. In an instant you were thrown to the ground, and he was on top of you, straddling your torso. You fought with everything you had, screaming and crying with everything in you. He was so much stronger and taller than you, and you had no defense against him. “Stop, stop stop!” You sobbed, hitting him on the chest, only to have your wrists pinned over your head. Taeyong leaned over so his face was directly above yours. Those dark, soulless, empty burning eyes. Cutting into you. Looking at your fear, your pain, smiling. With his free hand he undid his jeans, eyes never breaking contact with yours. You felt your skirt being hiked up, and you underwear was ripped from your body. You cried harder, begging someone to help you. Taeyong swallowed your cries with a violent kiss, tongue fucking into your mouth painfully. You couldn’t breath. You couldn’t see anything but those eyes, those dark eyes you had thought were so beautiful.

He shoved into you agressivly, fucking into you with violence and anger. Ripping your comfort, your happiness, your freedom away from you. With every painful thrust, your tears came faster. His kiss was bruising, and his lower body’s connection with yours was stretching, painful and cruel. It felt like it lasted for hours, when finally his thrusts became sloppy, uneven. He began moaning, placing a hand around your throat as his grip around your wrists became tighter. You were drooling, tears spilling out and eyes glazed over just hoping for it to end. You couldn’t think, not with him hurting you over and over and over. He let out one final breathy moan and came deeply within you, head throne back and semen spilling out onto the floor. When he finally released you from his iron grip and pulled out of you, you heard him utter “Show you your place fucking bitch,” Before neatly buckling his belt and walking away. As he walked out, he bumped into Sungchan, who said, “Whoa dude, why are you all sweaty and shit?”

Taeyong didn’t reply, only walking out. When Sungchan walked over to his vanity, he heard raspy breathing from across the room and walked behind Taeyong’s vanity. There you were, lying on the ground, skirt hiked over your hips, neck bruised and purple, drooling with blood and cum dripping out of you onto the floor. Sungchan paled, covering his mouth from shock. Rushing to your side, his hands hovered over your body, confusion and fear on his face. Your eyes fluttered open to meet his, and you rasped out, “T-Taeyong. He f-forced himself inside me and wouldn’t stop. I t-tried to stop him.” You could barely get out the words. Sungchan was as white as paper, and he grabbed a cloth off the table, hastily cleaning your thighs and skirt. “I’m so sorry Y/N, I never would’ve guessed he would ra-... do this.” Sungchan looked sick.

You looked up at Sungchan, feeling sick to your stomach. You didn’t deserve to be treated like this, you were not a piece of meet, or a punching back, or a fucking flesh light. You were a human being, and you were not going to let Taeyong ruin your career, let alone your life. Gripping Sungchan’s face with a cupped hand, you spoke softly. “I have no intention of quitting. And no intention of submitting to Taeyong’s cruelty.

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aprilsrant · 4 years ago

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Liquid Luck and its wonders | Harry Potter x Ravenclaw!Fem!Reader.

SUMMARY: Harry meets a shy girl from Ravenclaw House. After taking a liking to her, he tries to catch her attention.

WORD COUNT: 1,693.

WARNINGS: none, I think.

REQUEST: Hi! Um I'd like to request a Harry Potter x Ravenclaw!reader where she's pretty shy and Harry has a major crush on her so he's always trying to catch her attention in any way he can? Thank you!

A/N: English is not my first language, there could be mistakes here! If you enjoyed this, like, comment or reblog, whatever you want!

This took a little longer than I expected, but I wrote something and didn’t like it so I had to do it all over again and here it is! I love Harry so I’m really happy someone requested a fic for him because he’s so underrated! Hope you enjoy it!

MASTERLIST. / WORK IN PROGRESS.

Gif below is not mine.

The fake Galleon felt heavier than usual in her hands, the date of their last meeting —the fact unknown to any of them— still engraved in it, gleaming from different angles depending on how the sunlight would shine through the large windows. Not a single day would pass without (Y/N) looking at it from time to time, expecting to see the numbers change, waiting for the return of Dumbledore’s Army.

Once more, reality didn’t reach her wishes.

A sigh left her mouth while she climbed down from the windowsill and abandoned her dorm, Rowena Ravenclaw’s statue watching her back as the sixth year girl started to walk towards the Great Hall, stomach rumbling and crying out desperately for breakfast.

She sat down next to Luna Lovegood, her closest friend, and listened to her comments on Nargles, —“mischievous they are”, she said in a dreamy voice whilst buttering her toast—. (Y/N) knew a lot about the creatures that only Luna and her father believed in after years of being by her side, only separating for lessons and to sleep because of her being a year older than the silver haired girl, although you could find (Y/N) in her friend’s dorm more times than you could encounter Hermione Granger in the Library, laying down on the bed and staring at the canopy filled with little stars that would shine whenever Luna touched them with her wand. (Y/N) had done something similar with hers, but with a glowing full moon instead.

The stars and the moon were never far from each other and neither were them.

Zoning out from her housemates chattering around her, her eyes diverted to the Gryffindor table, quickly finding the remarkable Golden Trio talking to each other. Hermione seemed frustrated, Ron had a delighted expression on his face while the last member had been discussing with the only girl in the group.

Her heart jumped at the thought of them arguing about whether or not Harry would teach the D.A again, just like last year. But why would Hermione be upset then when she was the one who initiated the whole thing? The realisation that they were discussing other matters saddened her. Unconsciously, her fingers reached for the golden coin inside her rob’s pocket.

Glancing back at the plate in front of her, (Y/N) missed Harry waving his hand at her, closing his mouth about to greet her when he noticed the Ravenclaw was no longer looking at them.

Although Harry and (Y/N) were both sixth years and shared many classes, they hadn’t seen each other as much as the first would have liked because of the never ending assignments and most of their free periods spent in the Library.

On the day of tryouts for the Gryffindor Quidditch Team, this changed. The girl and Luna had been relaxing near the Quidditch Pitch, resting on top of the grass while the first one read a book and her friend doodled faces on a notebook (Y/N) had gotten her as a birthday present alongside a new set of charcoal crayons, when a large group of people gather around the Pitch.

Leaving the book by her side, (Y/N) began to watch just as a first year crashed into one of the goalposts. Her right hand flew quickly to cover her mouth, a loud laugh trying to escape from her throat. But the laugh disappeared and a tight knot took its place upon seeing the amount of girls trying to catch Harry’s attention, and maybe more.

Luna giggled, her hand still moving around the paper but her bright, blue eyes were flashing with realisation and a funny tingle.

“You like him, don’t you?,” she asked without needing much of an answer.

(Y/N) shocked her head, eyes moving between Luna and the Quidditch Pitch. To her relief, Harry had, apparently, dismissed the girls and they were now sitting on the stands.

But nothing could escape Luna, and most certainly not something related directly to her best friend.

“He fancies you too,” the girl commented casually, like it wasn’t what (Y/N) had yearned to hear since their third year, “you should see how much he stares at you. I was concerned at first, maybe he’d noticed you’ve become infested with Nargles and I hadn’t, but… but then I realised he liked you because I remembered seeing the look on his face.”

“From where?,” (Y/N) questioned softly, still trying to process the fact that Harry Potter liked her. It’s not like she didn’t trust Luna’s judgement —even if people believed she was out of her mind, the girl was surprisingly good for this kind of thing—, but her own insecurities clouded her mind. Did he really fancy her? And if he did, what was so special about her that had captivated Harry’s interest when so many others were throwing themselves at him?

“My dad had the same expression whenever he looked at my mum.” A small smile grew on her face while (Y/N)’s hand travelled to grab one of Luna’s, the one resting on top of the notebook, and squeezed it lightly and reassuringly. “I can still see it whenever he mentions her.”

After the conversation she had with Luna, (Y/N) started to notice more of Harry’s efforts to talk to her while walking to class; after a particular rough lesson of Defense Against the Dark Arts with Snape; sharing hushed instructions (different to the ones in their book but incredibly helpful) every time he pretended to look for more ingredients and walked right behind her during Potions.

Their short exchanges turned quickly into long conversations and shared afternoons, both of the teenagers trying to forget, maybe even ignore for a little amount of time, how dark and obscure was the Wizarding World becoming.

Harry didn’t confess his feelings, —those increasing each time she smiled, or laughed, or gazed at him while rays of sunshine illuminated her skin, making her look even more endearing than usual—, until one particular afternoon.

After succeeding on his mission, —to retrieve an important memory concerning Voldemort from Professor Slughorn that he had altered—, something coming from the interior of his body, or mind, he didn’t know, screaming at him to go to the kitchens. Logically, if a potion that induces luck to the drinker tells you to walk towards a particular destination, then that’s exactly what you do.

The boy wasn’t sure about what could possibly be waiting for him in the kitchens, but after seeing her sitting in one of the large tables across the room, coincidentally the replica of the one she’s used to have breakfast and dinner, he knew the reason the potion had wanted him there.

He took a seat next to her before greeting the house-elves, who were already bringing him trays full of pastries, and struggled to shake the dizziness out of his head —Harry couldn’t figure out if it came from the potion running off, the excitement of finally achieving the memory that would take him one step further to understand Voldemort and his plan, or the nerves that’d always attacked him whenever (Y/N) was near—.

“Hi, Harry,” she murmured softly without looking him in the eyes and grabbing a cookie from the plate in front of her, “what brings you here?”

What brought him to the kitchens and face the girl he had a crush on? Felix Felicis, of course. For what had the potion made him go there? He didn’t want to admit it, Harry didn’t want to confess the urge he had to kiss her whenever she would laugh at one of his jokes, even when they were terrible; he didn’t want to talk about how much he cared for her and how that was the exact same reason why he had taken so long to, first, accept his feelings and to even think about telling her about them. (Y/N) didn’t deserve to be thrown into a war he wasn’t sure he could win. And he didn’t deserve her. She would have to find another person to tease, to laugh with, to confide her problems and desires.

However, the potion hadn’t left his system yet, not entirely at least and enough to make a difference in (Y/N) and Harry’s friendship.

“I-I think I have feelings for you,” the words escaping his mouth before he could stop them, “and they are kind of weird because every time you walk in, or you are close to me, like right now, I don’t know how to act around you.”

No reaction came out of her, not even a slap, which he was kind of preparing for. (Y/N) stood motionless beside him, with the half of her cookie still in her hand, rests of chocolate and crumbs around her mouth.

“I’m sorry if I ruined our friendship, but I just,” he said before releasing a shaky breath,” I needed to tell you that I fancy you and that you are absolutely amazing.”

Swallowing and licking her lips, missing for a few inches the bit of chocolate scattered on them, (Y/N) shifted her position. Her chest was now facing Harry completely, her left leg below her body, giving the impression that she was taller than him, while the other one supported her weight. One of the girl’s hands had barely touched Harry’s jaw when she kissed the corner of his mouth.

“What took you so long?”

Harry could no longer see the chocolate and the crumbs, instead, he was capable of tasting them the second their lips met, hesitant at first but more confident the second time they did.

Whispers coming from the house-elves, —who had stopped, for once, doing their work and were now staring at them, many with tears in their big eyes—, made (Y/N) and Harry to separate from each other, even if it was the last thing they wanted.

“Maybe we should leave,” the Ravenclaw suggested softly in his ear.

Nodding eagerly, Harry took her hand and they both walked out of the kitchens, a grin on each of their faces.

general taglist: @gcdric @lilac-wrists

If you want to be add to the general taglist or to the taglist for a specific character, let me know!

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blossomkoushi · 4 years ago

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it’s what you feel, when you love someone.

summary: tsukishima kei spends his life discovering love. and the heartache that comes with it.

warnings: reader is a bit of an ass, but so is tsukishima one time, childhood friends AU, unrequited love, heartache, heartbreak, general angst things like that. gender neutral reader, referred to as “stinky” in texts. truly all hurt and no comfort in this one.

word count: 2.1k

A/N: i haven’t written angst in forever, so please let me know if this was okay or what i could improve on! i absolutely love angst and i want to get better at writing it, so any and all feedback is appreciated. fic is based off this prompt, thank you for requesting!

The sun shines through Tsukishima’s window. 7:30am. Rolling over in his bed and sighing, he reaches for his phone. The text messages you’d sent after he’d gone to bed sit at the top of the screen. A small smile grows on his face.

[from: stinky, sent at 1:43am] >> kei-kei, did you know that fish cough? Isn’t that so weird? >> like how does that even work >> wait I found a youtube video, look! >> *stinky sent a link* >> …doesn’t really look like coughing, does it? It’s more like a yawn >> kei-kei are you sleeping? >> laaaame >> sleeping is dumb

The nickname makes his heart flutter, just for a moment. It’d always had that effect on him, the blush creeping up on his face until he trained himself to keep it down.

[to: stinky, 7:34am] >> why were you sending me texts about fish at 1:40 in the morning >> stupid

Tsukishima pauses for a moment, hesitating before sending another text.

[to: stinky, 7:36am] >> are you still coming by practice later?

Getting out of bed, he starts getting ready for his morning class and practice. A part of him is grateful that you decided to go to the same university as him, being able to see you nearly every day made his life brighter. Not that he’d ever tell you that.

He’s out the door and walking to class when you text him back.

[from: stinky, 8:27am] >> obviously, I need to go see how ‘Taro is doing >> could you steal his shirt so I can see his abs during practice? >> *image attached*

Some kind of horny meme that Tsukishima never bothered to pay attention to, the kinds you always send when talking about his teammate, Kyoutani.

[from: stinky, 8:29am] >> oh, and you’ll be there too, ig

There it is.

He knows it’s a joke. He knows that he’s your best friend and you’re only joking. But the sinking in his chest and the knot tightening in his stomach is refusing to listen to his reasoning.

Swallowing down any anxious and sad feelings, he shakes his head and starts typing away at his phone.

[to: stinky, 8:30am] >> great. I’ll see you after class

Another message of seemingly random emojis pop up on his screen and he pockets his phone, taking a seat in the classroom and bringing out his notebook. He can feel himself zoning out before the professor even starts speaking.

Love is a strange word to Tsukishima Kei. It’s something his mom, and occasionally brother, say to him. Something on instinct, as if a promise would be broken if the words weren’t uttered.

Tsukishima had been 5 years old when he asked his mom about it. At the time he only repeated it back to her, an echo of her declaration, unaware of what he was promising her.

“it’s a feeling, Kei. Love is what you feel when you care for someone deeply. And so, you tell them.”

“do you have to say it?”

His mom stops for a moment, pondering before brushing his hair back and shaking her head. “no, you don’t have to say it. But you should at least show it to the people you love.”

Tsukishima continued telling his mom that he loves her up until elementary school. He still loves her after that, but his priorities shifted.

Tsukishima had been 8 years old when he realizes that he loves you.

The feeling grew stronger every day, your smile brightening his day and your laughter making his heart flutter in a strange way.

“Kei-Kei! Look, I found a snail! There’s more over there, come on!” your excited voice made his heart swell in his chest. Your small hand gripped his, tugging him through the mud and puddles on the yard, giggling happily despite the rain pouring down.

He starts drawing you pictures of snails. Small doodles placed on your desk before recess. He points them out after it’s rained, pulling you along to bend down and watch them slowly drag along the road on the way home from school.

You get interested in frogs, cats, worms, bees, even ants for a while. Tsukishima joined your obsessions, indulging you with drawings, books and pictures. One time he collected worms in a bucket on his walk home, handing them to you when he arrived at your house, knowing that you were ill and hoping the wigglies, as you called them, would make you happier. The smile you gave him burned into his mind, and he wanted to see it again and again until the end of time.

He loves you, even his young mind can grasp that. He hopes that you can tell.

Tsukishima is 12 years old when he realizes that he’s in love with you.

Valentine’s day was never something he’d pay attention to. It seemed silly to him, a whole day just to talk about love? Stupid. Love is something you feel, so you say it or show it and that’s that, why spend a whole day talking about it?

That is, until you run up to him the day before, excitement flashing in your eyes.

“Kei-Kei, do you know what day it is tomorrow?” your hands gripped his arms, nearly shaking him. The familiar blush grows on his face and he shakes his head, hoping you don’t notice how his skin is turning pinker by the second. “it’s valentine’s day! I heard some of the older boys talking in the hallway about what they’re doing for their girlfriends and it seems so cute! Like, oh, one is going to take his girlfriend out roller skating, isn’t that so romantic? And this other boy was saying that-“

Tsukishima tunes your voice out, focusing his attention to your lips moving. Your hands are still gripping his arms and a part of him wishes that you’d never let go, feeling his skin burning under his clothes. You’re standing so close; he could lean his head forward just a bit and his lips could be on yours. If he just-

“-Oh! And I heard some girls talking before gym that the boys in our class were going to confess to their crushes tomorrow! Do you think anyone will confess to me? I hope so” your words snap him back to reality. His eyes go slightly wide, looking into yours. Confess? You wanted one of the stupid boys in your class to confess?

A twinge of discomfort stabs in his stomach, his body filling with sudden annoyance. “no way” he scoffs.

He’s never regretted anything more in his life.

The excitement drains from your eyes and your hands fall from his arms. Before he can think, your chin quivers and you nod silently, turning around and running away.

The discomfort in his stomach only grows, changing and chafing along with an ache in his chest, all annoyance drained from his body in an instance.

He draws a picture of a snail and dinosaur, writing your names over them. Underneath he scribbles an apology. A quick “I’m sorry”, and he places it in your mailbox on his way home.

The next day, he sees you on the yard of the school, standing excitedly in front of a boy and throwing your arms around him.

Tsukishima is 13 years old when he realizes that you don’t love him back. Not in the way he wants.

Though, to be honest, he knew from the moment he saw you with the boy from your class walk home together from school, hand in hand.

You’re both in junior high and all you seem to want to talk about is your stupid boyfriend. It’s a different boy, not the same one he saw you with that previous February. This one is taller, not as tall as Tsukishima, but you say that height isn’t something you look for in a boyfriend. He can’t help but to feel the jealousy and sadness seep in at that.

“he’s older, you know. He’s turning 15 in a few weeks and he says that I can meet his family at his birthday party.” You’re seated on Tsukishima’s bed while he’s at the desk, trying to tune you out and do his homework. He hopes you’ll stop talking about him and do the same. You don’t. “oh, and I know you’ve never had a girlfriend, so you won’t know this, but he’s such a good kisser. Like, you can definitely tell that he’s got some experience compared to my ex. Isn’t that so weird? Me? Having an ex?”

Tsukishima doesn’t like this. You’re changing, trying to be older than you actually are to impress this older boy that he’s never even met. Not that he wants to. He’s gotten used to the dull ache of his heart breaking over and over again, the steady and constant reminder that you won’t ever see him the way that he sees you. He’s mastered the art of seeming okay, masking his feelings and pushing them deep down where no living soul will ever see them. But if he had to see you with this… boyfriend… he’s not sure that he’d recover.

So instead, he shuts up. He stays quiet and lets you babble on about all the little things that this boy does for you, letting the ache in his chest grow and grow. It’s better than the alternative, telling you how he feels. No, that’s not an option. He can’t risk losing you.

Tsukishima Kei is an idiot. He knows this for a fact after having to watch you pine after endless boys and men all the way up until university. Boyfriends that come and go, the make out sessions that he gets graphic descriptions of and a constant damp shoulder from holding you after your heart gets broken.

He pretends to laugh along when you joke about him being single for so long, his heart squeezing painfully at the reminder that his long-time crush has eyes for every man except him.

He only comes back from his heart-break haze when he steps into the gym after class. Only he wishes that he hadn’t.

Calling out a greeting, he sees you standing alone with Kyoutani. Except he’s not sure if it counts as standing, it’s more of a pinning to the wall. Kyoutani’s body caging you in, your back pressed to the wall with your hands around his neck. Even from a distance, he can see your usual excited smile, happy to have gotten attention from the boy you’d been pining after.

“sorry.” Tsukishima can only mutter, quickly turning around and walking out the gym again. He can hear your muffled voice, probably reassuring Kyoutani that it’s okay. He wishes that he’d walked faster, so he would’ve missed the unmistakable sounds of kissing and your soft sighs.

Tsukishima hasn’t let himself cry over you in years. He forces himself to go numb, push away any and all bad feelings until his breathing gets steady and he can look you in the eye again.

But this time, he can’t stop it. He’s fallen to the floor as soon as the bathroom door locks behind him. It’s disgusting, sitting on the floor with his hands pressed to his eyes, trying to force the tears back inside. His classes clink onto the floor, skidding away from him as his body shakes.

Tears stream down his face and drips down his shirt, turning the fabric into a blotchy mess, matching his flushed face and the snot running from his nose. His sobs echo off the walls, arms hugging his knees while the image of your body pressed against his teammate flashes behind his eyes every time he blinks.

He hasn’t cried over you in years. So, when it all hits him, it hits hard.

He misses practice completely, spending his time laying on the filthy floor in the bathroom and clutching his chest, trying to bring the broken pieces back together. He finally stands after what feels like an eternity. Picking up his glasses from the floor, he puts them on and watches himself in the mirror. Face flushed pink, eyes bloodshot and snot running from his nose, he thinks about what his mother said when he was a kid.

“love is what you feel when you care for someone deeply.”

A bitter laugh fills the room, his own hard eyes meeting him in the mirror.

His mother was wrong. Love isn’t what you feel when you care for someone deeply. All you feel is pain. The dull twisting of a knife in your chest as you watch the one you love fall for someone else, over and over again until you accept that their soft and loving eyes will never meet yours. Or at least that’s what you tell yourself when you’re standing in the bathroom of the gym where you saw said person fall in love with someone new. That you’ve accepted it.

#wilted.flowers #wilted.tsukishima #sprout.tsukishima #tsukishima kei #tsukishima angst #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst

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fbfh · 4 years ago

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light up the dark [VI] - leo x reader

genre: mid adventure domestic fluff overture, romance, smutty lemony bit towards the end

word count: 3k

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: very much so, yes

warnings: magic manipulation powers, feelings are hard and weird and scary, some innuendos, the phrase hot gusher out of context, the word dirty talk, trying to "proposition [someone] in front of two for one cookie crisp", brief credit card theft, jason thinks ketchup is spicy and gets clowned on for it, one use of the word lube in reference to mechanical lubricant, shirtless leo remember that one piece of shirtless leo viria art?????? remember the caption?????, your facade is beginning to crack, deadpan joke about being dead in space, making out, whole lotta sexual tension, brief mention of a boner, teeny tiny bit of grinding, getting interrupted, c*lypso

summary: after an extensive shopping trip, you, Leo, and Jason settle into your airbnb and wait for the others to arrive. Jason takes a nap, and Leo helps you dye your hair. You return the favor by helping him make dinner which leads to two things; a well timed boner, and a poorly timed visitor.

listen to: power and control - marina, 100 bad days - ajr, all I ask - adele

a/n: let's play spot the zack and cody reference within the first paragraph

also surprise the series isn't dead!! a shock to all but mostly me!!

as with all smexy smutty nsfw content, all characters are aged up to 18+

Standing in front of a wall of hair dye taller than you are should have been exciting. It would have been, except for the fact that all the colors were various shades of honey mist auburn. You really don’t want to have to make a separate trip to a beauty store for hair dye. Your eyes land on a firetruck red box, and gratefully, you realize you won’t have to.

“Perfect,” you muse, throwing it into your cart, along with the other stuff on the list you’d divided between you. You grab a few other things from the beauty section while you’re there; some makeup, eyeliner, a glass nail file, and a tiny pair of oil slick cuticle scissors.

Nearby is a guy a little older than you in a varsity hoodie and sweatpants squinting at a two in one shampoo label.

Perfect, you think, beginning to approach. You work your magic - literally - and within a few minutes you have his credit card. It takes way less time than it used to. You also didn’t have to smile and flirt nearly as much as you used to. You’re relieved that you don’t have to fake enthusiasm around rich douchebags the way you used to, and a new inky drop of fear begins to stain the corners of your mind. You can’t even bear to admit it to yourself, but you’re kind of scared. Before you can begin to question if you know what love is and if you’re capable of experiencing it without the influence of your divine heritage, you shove it all away. Not the place, not the time. You speed up a little, passing an endcap of candy, and knock a box into your cart.

On the other side of the store, Jason checks off items from their half of the list as Leo tosses items in the cart, talking along the way. Of course, you came up in conversation rather quickly.

“She’s… a real piece of work.” Jason says, treading lightly.

“You said it, man,” Leo agrees, sliding a pack of coke onto the bottom of the cart. Jason thinks for a moment before continuing.

“She seems to,” he tries to figure out how to phrase their dynamic, “not hate you as much as everyone else.” Leo laughs at the accuracy of the statement. He can tell Jason has something else to say, so he’s quiet while putting paper plates and napkins into the cart.

“Hey, Leo?”

“Yeah?”

“Just… don’t let her hurt you, okay?”

He stops for a second. He’s so lucky to have a friend like Jason, one that will genuinely look out for him, but sometimes people caring for him still catches him off guard. Really off guard. With no idea how to begin to verbalize that complicated mess, he takes a split second to collect himself.

“Thanks, man.”

His smile is sincere.

Don’t let her hurt you. Can he just do that? Not let someone hurt him? Especially someone like you. He’s only had a few long term crushes before, all just out of reach and only getting further away. Only one had amounted to something - not that he could call what he had with Calypso ‘something’. She certainly wouldn’t. He looks around, trying to shake off the sting. He starts to get that unsettled, itchy feeling when he focuses on stuff like that for too long.

‘At least I got some good stories out of it,’ he thinks, messing with the back of his hair and fixing his hoodie strings.

“Here.”

He turns around, coming face to face with you, holding out a box very close to him.

“Hot gusher.” You say softly. What? His cheeks heat up, pulse speeding up suddenly. He glances at Jason, who’s at the other end of the aisle asking an employee something. Are you implying something? Are you trying to proposition him in front of two for one cookie crisp? He’s unable to look away from your gaze, intense and striking. You couldn’t possibly mean what he thinks you mean. Your fingers brush and he’s struggling to find an elegant way to say ‘hey, maybe the grocery store isn’t an ideal place for dirty talk’.

“W- uh, sorry, what?” he says, laughing in an equally hushed tone, needing to make sure you meant what he thought you did. You glance down, then back up.

“They’re spicy gushers. I thought you’d like them.” the feeling is gone in a split second, the same time it took to arrive, and is replaced with relief. He looks down at the box, realizing he’d taken it from you at some point. He laughs at the ridiculousness of his previous panic.

“Thanks,” he says, a reflective smile on his face.

You realize how comforted you are to see him smile, really smile, when you catch yourself having to keep a neutral face. One of the first times your resting bitch face has been intentional. Before you can say you’re welcome, Jason comes back over. You hand him the card.

“Pin number’s 0401.”

They both stare at you, skimming the label of a granola bar, completely unperturbed.

“How…”

“Credit card theft.”

The logical part of Leo’s brain starts to speak up, telling him to raise his guard, that his stomach should be twisting. If you can just take someone’s credit card without a hint of remorse, who knows what the hell kind of damage you could do to him if he got closer to you? And he really wants to get closer to you.

“Oh,” you pull a small pop top tube out of your cart and hand it to Leo, “this is for you too. You know, since you don’t like coffee,” you trail off as he reads the label. Caffeine and electrolyte drink tablets, red berry rampage flavor. He looks up at you, feeling warm and… something else, something ineffable, at the gesture.

You stare at each other, eyes locked, surprised at the strangely intimate feeling stirring in both of you.

“What are those?” Jason asks, snapping you out of whatever that was.

“Spicy gushers,” Leo says, smiling again, “I didn’t even know they made those.”

“Hot mango,” Jason reads from the side of the box, “that actually sounds pretty good.”

“No way dude, you can’t handle spicy food.” He starts to protest, and Leo continues, “You think ketchup is spicy!” He looks shocked.

“Okay, that was one time! It was a weird brand and there was way too much pepper in it!”

You bite back a giggle at their bickering, taking note of how much better Leo seems to be doing and finding surprising comfort in their banter.

It doesn’t take long to get to the airbnb and get set up. You all dump your bags in your rooms, bring in the groceries, and shove everything into the cabinets in a reasonably organized manner.

Jason heads upstairs to unpack and call Piper, announcing a few minutes later that they should be here in less than two hours.

“Perfect,” you pull out your hair dye from the last bag. It’s not exactly the manic panic wildfire red you’d initially wanted, but it’s definitely better than nothing. You stare at the box for a second, then up at Leo who’s trying to get one more bag of chips to fit in with the others.

“Hey,” you say, just loud enough to get his attention, “do you… can you get the back of my head?” He looks at you, questioning, and you hold up the box dye. He smiles, once again noting your softened edges around him.

“Yeah,” he agrees, and minutes later you’re in the bathroom, adorned in a big tee shirt covered in all your previous hair colors. He’s staring at your shirt, eyes dancing over the swirls and splatters of color. It reminds him of a painting he’d seen once, unable to remember the name.

You shake the bottle, skimming the instructions again, then start speaking to him, eyes still on the box.

“Take a section of hair, about this much,” you demonstrate, holding out a section of hair, “rub in the dye like this…”

You hand him the second bottle of red dye, and he starts on the back. His fingertips start separating out a section of your hair, and you still, a shiver running up your spine. He hesitates for a moment, then continues, and you hope he hadn’t noticed. His breath fans your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating off his chest. Your lungs are shallow suddenly, squeezed tight like a bouquet clutched in a shaking hand. You find it almost impossible to focus on dying the front half of your hair.

You don’t want it to stop, you realize. His fingertips dancing along your hair, the glimpses of his incredibly focused face in the bathroom mirror, the way he’ll gently turn your head to make sure he didn’t miss a spot.

“Shit,” he leans back, hunching forward. You look behind you, eyes landing immediately on the spot of red dye on his shirt.

“Shit,” you echo. He looks back at you, waiting to see how he’ll react.

“Oh, it’s all good - no worries. I already have a ton of motor oil and lube - lubricant… machine grade, petroleum based engine lubricant-” he laughs, “stains on this shirt anyway. Don’t sweat it.”

You almost laugh. A giggle bubbles up from your chest and stomach, but catches in your throat. Before it can come out, he slips off his dye stained gloves, and tugs off his dye stained shirt from the back. It seems to happen in slow motion. In a mere moment, your eyes engraving every detail, every line and curve and freckle to memory.

There’s really no delicate way to put it; he’s fucking jacked. Deceptively so. You’re frozen in place, cheeks flushed. You suddenly wonder what it would be like to be wrapped up in his arms, held so close to him.

You snap yourself out of the thought, all of that occurring in just a few seconds. He leans past you, setting the dye stained shirt carefully on the counter, glancing at you intensely.

“Are you checking me out?”

You make yourself roll your eyes and turn away, replying, “I’m sure you’d love that.”

Angled away from him, you momentarily reprimand yourself, squeezing your eyes shut and mouthing oh my god. You turn back to him, not recalling the last time you had to deliberately keep up your aloof front around someone like this.

“So, are we finishing my hair or just gonna leave it like this?” you ask rhetorically, motioning to your half done hair.

He watches you do this, confirming his suspicion that you’re really not as cold as you let on. A smile blooms on his face, and he doesn’t think he’s ever seen anything as… cute as that.

“Yeah,” he replies, slipping his gloves back on. The things you do around him seem to mean more now. He notices the way your eyes flutter closed for a moment when he plays with your hair, working in the dye, or the way you still for a split second when he gets a little too close to the side of your face, checking that he didn’t miss a spot.

He doesn’t want this to end either. But eventually, your hair is fully saturated with dye, the timer on your phone counting down slowly. There’s still some dye left. He sits on the closed toilet.

“Your turn. Do me.”

“What?” you laugh.

“Yeah, a little streak - up here.” He leans forward, sectioning off a part of his hair.

“Seriously?” you ask.

“Yeah. Unless you don’t want to match…” he muses. Your eyes get this dreamy look for the briefest second, then you’re turning back to shake the bottle some more.

“I guess… I mean there’s too much dye to throw out, we might as well do something with it.”

It’s his turn, now, to feel the warmth from your body, your hands running through his hair. His eyes want to close, and bask in the feeling, but he refuses to miss out on the view of you so soft, so close to him. It doesn’t last nearly long enough for either of you, and much too soon you’re pulling away and throwing away the gloves and empty bottles.

By the time you finish cleaning up and throw out the garbage, it’s time to rinse your hair. Hanging your head over the tub, you let the water flow over your head until Leo tells you it’s running clear. He does the same, and you point out too late that he only had to rinse the dyed part, not his whole head.

You both laugh as you wrap a towel around your hair, teaching him how to do the same.

“Sweet, I’ve always wondered how to do the spa snail towel thing.”

“The spa snail towel thing?” You try in vain to fight another laugh.

“Yeah, you know… cause it looks like a snail, and they do it at spas…”

“Oh… my gods…” you laugh, exiting the bathroom and heading down the hall, “I”m going to get changed.” you call.

“Am I wrong?” he asks after you, and you bite your lip to stop yourself from laughing. He heads to his room to do the same.

A few minutes later, you’re carefully pulling on your top, when he calls through your door.

“Hey, I’m gonna be in the kitchen, come down when you’re ready.”

“...Okay,” you agree.

You check your outfit in the mirror. You can still feel his fingers brushing your neck. Your head tilts at the memory. Snapshots of him pulling off his shirt in slow motion flash in your memory.

You realize how much of an affect the last hour has had on you. Your stomach drops.

You can’t possibly be falling in love. No way. Not a snowball’s chance in hell.

You’re not the falling in love type. At most, you’d hook up with someone a couple times on the rare occasion you thought they were hot, too.

Oh, you decide, that must be what’s happening. I just think he’s hot. I mean, duh. Of course he’s hot. Did you see him in there?

That’s all you have to do; hook up with him once, maybe twice, then you’ll get over it. It’ll make his ex jealous, and they’ll get back together. It will go just like it always has. Then you can move on to whatever the next crisis is.

You take a breath, resolving to follow the plan, exit your room. You throw yours and Leo’s old clothes and towels in the hamper, and head down stairs. He greets you, and pulls you into the kitchen.

“I have something to ask you.” Your brow furrows.

“...Okay.”

He takes your hand in his, the other behind his back.

“Will you…” he looks at you, gaze piercing, “...be my sous-chef.” he finishes, holding out an apron, matching his.

You study him, a hopeful, surprisingly confident look on his face. His hair is still damp. You’re sure yours is, too. You wait a beat, before replying slowly.

“Yes. But I’m not wearing that.”

“That’s fair,” he says, setting the apron on the counter, “I will have to dock your pay for being out of uniform, though.” You let out a puff of air from your nose, biting back a laugh. He pulls out a skillet, bowl, and oil, and begins preheating the pan. You watch him pull out more ingredients, and begin to set things up.

“Right now we’re waiting on that,” he says nodding at the stove. You nod, inspecting a bottle of seasoning he’d pulled out, and settle into a comfortable silence.

He thinks back to the last time you had time like this - playing twenty questions at your apartment. A pit forms in his stomach as he remembers the conversation veering to Calypso, as it always seemed to. He shoves it away. Not this time. He steadies his nerves. “So, you want to play twenty questions?”

You agree, coming closer to him.

“If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”

Your eyes flick over to the clock. You have a solid hour, hour and a half before the others are supposed to get here. You stare at him, brushing hair out of his face.

“I’d be dead in the endless void of deep space.”

He cracks a smile at how on brand that response was. Your fingertips trail down to his neck, rethen shoulder. The smile doesn’t leave his face, not completely. Your heart beats loudly in anticipation.

“My turn. Do you want to make out?”

His head snaps up, eyes locked with yours, trying to tell if you’re serious or if this is another example of your distinct sense of humor. But he can tell it’s not - there’s something a little too close to the surface in your eyes.

“Yeah. Yes, totally-”

You grab his collar, pulling him in for a kiss, and leaning back against the empty counter.

His lips are soft and warm, moving gracefully with yours. You barely register that the first kiss ends before you dive back in. You angle your head, deepening the kiss. He plants one hand on the counter, the other making its way to the small of your back. You flick your tongue past his lips, and his grip on your waist tightens. You clutch his collar tighter, other hand moving through his hair, still damp at the ends.

You can tell he’s enjoying what you do by the way his mouth quirks up ever so slightly at the corners, and by the way he starts to harden beneath you. You roll your hips into his, and he falters, sighing, breath fanning your lips. Not quite a moan, but you’re getting there.

The front door opens before you can.

Leo pulls away reluctantly, very reluctantly, and turns off the stove.

“That was fast,” he says, panting slightly and still very flushed. They’re not supposed to be here for a while, still.

A tall girl enters the kitchen, dark strawberry blonde hair pulled over her shoulder. She looks between you and Leo with a sour expression on her face.

“Calypso,” Leo says.

"...Hi."

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capsironunderoos · 4 years ago

Text

The Art Teacher and The Winter Soldier - Part One: Morgan Stark’s Secret Plan

Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Summary: Some stories about Bucky Barnes and an art teacher...

Word Count: 2,061

Warnings: None! Although there are spoilers for Falcon and The Winter Soldier if you haven’t finished that!

Author’s Note: Hey hey! I’m finally writing and posting again! I recently graduated from college with a degree in art education, and I just thought it would be cute to see Bucky Barnes date an art teacher, so here we are! This isn’t going to be a normal series, just kind of little snapshots of Bucky’s life with an art teacher. Also, this series follows the events of Endgame and The Falcon and The Winter Soldier, except Tony lived, other than that it’s pretty much the same. I hope you enjoy!

Here’s a link to my masterlist: capsironunderoos masterlist

“Captain America, The Winter Soldier, Scarlet Witch, and Iron Man walk into an elementary school… sounds like the start of a bad joke.”

Bucky heard Sam mumble beside him and felt a smirk make its way onto his lips.

“I thought the minivan was enough for a bad joke,” Bucky added, and Sam had to cover his mouth to hide his laughter, a startling cough erupting from his chest.

Tony had asked a few of the remaining Avengers to go with him to the opening night of Morgan’s elementary school art show since Pepper had been scheduled for a meeting.

Morgan’s work had been voted on by the other students in her grade and selected as the best in kindergarten, which didn’t surprise Tony. The Stark’s were always the best at everything they attempted.

Tony had wanted to invite everyone he knew, but he was under strict instructions from his daughter that only a few could come.

The girl in question sat contently between her Uncle Sam and her Uncle Bucky, small right hand gripping onto Bucky’s left, as her left hand held a small bouquet of flowers.

Her smile grew when she felt the minivan take the familiar right turn into her school’s parking lot, and she strained to make herself taller to see the brick building slowly getting bigger as Tony pulled the car into a spot.

Tony turned the car off as the Avengers piled out and onto the concrete, Bucky turning back to offer his hand to Morgan. She quickly grabbed onto it and jumped out, giggling as she almost dropped the flowers.

“Here,” he gestured to the flowers, opening his hand. “Let me carry those Moe.” She nodded and handed the flowers to him with no hesitation, leaving his side to run to Tony, who turned just in time to catch her and lift her above his head before propping her onto his hip. Her giggles echoed across the parking lot, and Bucky noticed a few people shooting smiles their way.

“You comin’ Buck?” Sam called, already climbing up the stairs into the school, and Bucky smiled in response, jogging slightly to catch up with the group.

“You guys are gonna love it here!” Morgan called from the front of the group, still holding onto her dad as they walked into the building.

Wanda glanced over at Bucky and Sam, stifling a laugh.

“Yeah, you two will fit right in.” Bucky smiled and rolled his eyes, and Sam lightly shoved her with his elbow, causing her to let out a small giggle.

“Alright kiddo, lead the way,” Tony prompted as he placed her back onto the ground. Normally, this would cue a few moments of whining and begging to be picked back up, but she was focused on other things tonight.

Yes, Morgan Stark had a plan.

She walked proudly down the decorated hallways, making sure to point out the artworks her friends had made as she marched the small group of Avengers to her artwork.

Bucky was quiet as they walked, stopping every now and then to look at a few pieces done by older kids.

He was easily reminded of Steve, and their time growing up in Brooklyn.

He thought about the journals he’d buy for Steve on his birthday, or a new art material he’d see in a shop while out for a walk that he couldn’t help but buy. Steve would have loved this, would have been right at home talking art with the very animated five year old leading the group.

Bucky smiled to himself as he began to move with the group again, not missing the various drawings of superheroes plastering the walls. He knew he wouldn’t find himself here, immortalized on paper by a child who saw him as a hero, and his smile drops, but only for a second as he sees Morgan stop before throwing her hands up and screaming.

Tony jumps to find out what’s wrong, but before he can squat down to her level she is running full speed towards a woman in a skirt with polka-dots all over it, and when she turns to see who is screaming Bucky can see that her shirt reads “Your greatest work of art is you!” He smiles at the sentiment and watches as Morgan launches herself into the arms of the woman, who is now crouching in order to better receive the hug.

The force of a very enthusiastic five year old knocks the woman onto the floor and she laughs with Morgan as they part.

“Hello to you too Morgan!” She says through more laughter and Morgan waves, now seemingly shy as she steps back beside her father.

Tony moves into action now, extending his hand to help the woman off of the floor. She graciously accepts, and Bucky notes the shy smile that washes over her features.

“You must be the art teacher we hear so much about,” Tony says as she lightly brushes off the back of her dress.

“Yes, that would be me! And don’t worry, I know who all of you are,” she adds, her smile widening as her eyes meet each Avenger’s. Bucky feels himself starting to blush when her gaze lingers on his for just a bit longer than his counterparts.

“Even if I lived under a rock it’d be hard not to know who you were. Morgan talks about you all the time, and she tells quite the story.” Tony laughs and lightly ruffles her hair, to which Morgan responds to by swatting at his hand.

“You’re telling me. I ask her to tell me bedtime stories.” This cues a round of laughter from the group before Tony turns to each member.

“Well, just to be formal about it, I’m Tony, and this is Sam, Wanda, and James,” Tony says, and the woman shakes all of their hands, making sure to tell each one how wonderful it is to meet them.

When she slips her hand into Bucky’s, he wonders if she feels the small jolt of electricity that he does, but he ignores it as she smiles at him.

“Please, call me Bucky,” he tells her, and that same shy smile rests against her lips as she nods. He’s sad to let her out of his grasp, but even he knows that it would probably be weird to sit and hold her hand.

When she turns back to Morgan after telling the group her name, Bucky catches Sam staring at him out of the corner of his eye, and Wanda too. The duo are standing in similar stances, arms crossed over their chests with their eyebrows raised at his actions. When Morgan has pulled her teacher out of ear-shot, Sam turns to Wanda and takes her hand before dramatically mimicking Bucky.

“Please, call me Bucky,” he chirps in a lovesick voice, and Wanda gasps as she places her hand over her heart. “Oh, Bucky!” She adds, and Bucky can feel himself blushing as he pushes past both of them to catch up with Tony and Morgan.

He tries not to smile as he hears their laughter trailing behind him.

When they catch back up with Morgan, she is proudly standing beside her artwork as Tony is bent down to take a picture of her beside it.

Bucky smiles, shifting the bouquet of flowers he still holds from one hand to the other as he watches the scene.

His heart stops though, when he sees the drawing.

It’s… Him.

Morgan drew him.

He remembers the picture the drawing is supposed to resemble, remembers standing very still as Morgan tried to figure out how to use her new kids camera. She had yelled “Don’t move!” each time he tried to shift his weight so that his knees weren’t locked for too long.

“She was prompted to draw someone she looks up to,” he hears quietly beside him, and the voice of the art teacher pulls him from his thoughts. Bucky turns to her in disbelief, and he sees that she is smiling up at him.

“I think she picked a pretty good subject for that prompt,” she adds, and Bucky can feel his breathing becoming shallow as he holds back tears.

He slowly walks over to the drawing to get a better look, and he sinks to his knees, a tear escaping and rolling down his cheek.

“Uncle Bucky! Why are you crying?” Morgan asks beside him, and all he can do is wrap her in his arms, dropping the flowers on the floor as he squeezes her to him. She giggles but wraps her arms around him too, before wiggling in his grasp to reach for the flowers on the floor.

“Here, give these to my teacher, they’re her favorite!” She whispers in his ear and he nods. This kid could have asked for a trip to the moon and Bucky would have built the rocket himself.

He quickly wipes the tear off of his cheek, turning to take a picture with Morgan beside the artwork at Tony’s request before standing and listening to Morgan’s teacher as she begins to speak.

“I know you probably already know this, but Morgan is very advanced for her age. Most of the other students in her class completed this project in a day, but Morgan worked on this for a few class periods. She even drew from observation, using a picture she brought in. I don’t normally teach that until fourth grade.”

A moment of silence passed as the group of Avengers stood in awe of the little girl before them.

“Here, let me take your picture together before you go,” she offers, and Tony gladly hands his phone over to her. The group bends down around the artwork, making sure to keep it, and the artist, in the center.

“Thank you all for coming,” she adds, as she hands the phone back to Tony, who in turn thanks her before leading the group back out of the building.

Bucky stands still, watching for a moment as Morgan turns around to wink at Bucky, gesturing to the flowers in his hand.

Her plan was in motion.

“Bucky? Is everything okay?” He hears behind him and he turns to see the art teacher, standing with her hands clasped in front of her, a small look of concern sewn into her eyebrows as they arch together.

“Yes. Sorry, um, I think these are for you. Your favorites, so I’ve heard.” Bucky states as he hands the bouquet over to her. Her face lights up at the gift, and Bucky smiles as their fingers ghost over each other as the bouquet is exchanged.

“Oh, thank you. And tell Morgan I said thank you as well.”

Bucky nods and starts to walk away, but finds himself stopping and turning back to the art teacher, who is already looking at him.

“Hey,” they start at the same time and Bucky laughs as he nervously slips his hands into his pockets.

“Would you wanna, grab some coffee some time, or something?” He rushes out, and the smile that erupts on her face makes Bucky’s heart speed up.

“Yes!” She squeaks out, and her excitement catches both of them off guard. “I mean, yes,” she adds, composing herself, which makes Bucky laugh again.

“Here,” she starts, pulling a pen hanging off her lanyard into her hands and balancing the flowers under her arm.

She gestures for Bucky’s hand and he holds it out to her. She glances up to him and he blushes again, quickly pulling off the glove. She smiles and grabs his hand, clicking the pen as she carefully holds his palm open to write her number down.

She pats it gently when she’s done.

“Just… text me, okay?” She whispers, smiling up at him before releasing his hand to turn to a parent who’s just walked up, flowers still held in her right hand.

---

The ride back to the compound is relatively quiet, until Morgan catches her Uncle Bucky looking at a string of numbers written on his hand.

She taps his shoulder and he looks at her as she gestures for him to lean down so she can whisper in his ear, “My plan worked! You’re welcome,” before leaning back against her seat, arms crossed and a look of satisfaction playing on her lips.

#TATATWS #Bucky Barnes #bucky barnes x reader #Winter Soldier #winter soldier x reader #white wolf #marvel x reader #marvel #em writes #woo new writing #woo art teacher #woo bucky barnes #the falcon and the winter soldier

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justalittleficsideblog · 4 years ago

Text

Care for a dance?; Itadori Yuuji

Prompt: Satoru holds a sort of prom for students, you anxiously wait for Yuuji. But when he arrives, he says some things you’ve been waiting to hear forever.

pairing: Itadori Yuuji x fem!reader

genre: Fluff!

Word count: 1,583

This is my first ever fanfiction, I hope to get better in the future but I hope you all enjoy! <3 also, if you would like to make requests, feel free to do so!

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

You made your way across the dance floor, eyes glued to the entrance as you waited for that one pink-haired boy to walk through.

You sighed heavily, leaving against the wall, drink in hand.

Damn sorcerers and their dramatic antics

You chuckled beside yourself. It's not like you yourself were not a sorcerer, you were quite skilled in the cursed arts, in fact. However, in an attempt to give the tech students a sense of “normalcy” from other schools, Satoru decided to have the students set up their own mini prom. You were against the idea at first, alongside Medumi (although you weren't sure if he was actually listening to what Gojo had to say in the first place), but Itadori’s eyes practically glowed at the idea of a western-type dance.

“Please y/n! Doesn’t it sound fun?? A dance and lights and music and--”

“Fine, yuuji,” you sighed as Satoru beamed in contempt. You quickly turned away from Itadori’s puppy eyes. But you couldn't just say no to him, and you weren’t quite sure why.

Because you like him dumbass

“Oooh, so does this mean we get to see y/n in a dress for once?” a mouth appeared on the side of Itadori’s face, cutting off your train of thought.

Itadori slapped his own face, hard.

“Aww,” you teased. “Does Sakuna want to see some skin?”

Itadori blushed, but quickly slapped a hand over his arm as it spoke, “No, well of course, but it would be nice to see Yuji here get all flustered.”

“S-shut up!”

You laughed, as much as a threat Sakuna was, you had to admit he had his quirks. Itadori glanced toward Satoru in a silent plea to change the subject. The teacher complied, laying out the rules and dress code for the event.

“Hehe, have fun with this one kids, I'm off to do some sight-seeing.” and with that he turned and walked off.

“This is pathetic, why do I have to get wrapped up in this shit,” Megumi growled, also striding off toward the direction of his dorm.

You heard a distinct whispering from behind you, which you assumed was most likely Sukuna saying something to Itadori. When you turned back around, said pink-haired boy made brief eye-contact with you before quickly looking away with his hand on his cheek.

---------

That interaction led you to where you were now, leaning against the wall alone in a dress that made you feel like suffocating.

Well, you thought. At least I look good

You wondered what Itadori would be wearing, would he think you looked good? Would he even notice you? Or would he steer himself in the direction of a taller girl with a nicer ass?

You sighed, shaking your head to get rid of the thoughts.

“It’s not like it matters anyway.”

“Oh? What doesn’t matter?”

You choked on your drink as you turned to see Satoru looking ravishing as ever in a black suit, leaning over you with his drastic height.

“Oh- uh, … nothing in particular,” you swallowed thickly.

Gojo smirked,”Well if that’s the case… he should be here shortly by the way.”

You scowled at your teacher as he chuckled and dashed off while you heard expensive shoes click clack against the polished floor. Megumi and Itadori had arrived.

“Yo, y/n!” Itadori waved while bouncing excitedly. Megumi nodded in acknowledgement, giving you a once over before taking off towards where Satoru wandered off. You had to admit, Yuuji looked….well, good. Really good. The dress shirt he wore fitted him perfectly, accenting his hair and eyes as he moved even in the slightest.

He cleaned up well.

Itadori came up to you, snack in hand, stopping in his tracks as he got a good glimpse of you. “You look, uh, well- you look really--”

“You look smokin’ y/n” Sakuna made yet another surprise appearance on Itadori’s hand.

“Ahh! Nevermind him, sorry I was just going to say--”

You Interrupted, “So I don't look smokin’?”

His eyes widened and he took a step back, “N-no, I just think you look… pretty.”

You cackled, noise being drawn out by the music blaring and flashing lights decorating the space. “Relax, Yuji I was just teasing.”

His shoulders dropped somewhat, releasing the tight grip he had over his hand where Skuna’s smart-mouth was. His eyes glanced over your form, noticing how the dress fell over your frame.

“It sure turned out kinda nice, huh?” You asked, turning to face him head on.

“Yeah… the music is amazing too! I dont think ive heard this song before.”

“Really? It’s such an overplayed song in my opinion.”

Yuji’s face grimaced, “Ill be right back, hold on a second.”

Your smile fell as he walked away, but quickly you became confused as he wandered up to the DJ, whispering something in his ear, looking back at you and smiling.

The pop-song had ended just as he made his way back to your side. Your stomach tingled as he approached, turning as he stood flush against your shoulder.

“Hey y/n… uh,” he kicked his foot against the ground a second.

Wait… there's a slow song starting, did he-- no way, your eyes widened at the realization of what he had requested at the boothe. No freakin way--

“Do you wana dance?” he choked out, practically shouting so he could be heard above the speakers blasting soft notes across the stage.

You stared at his outstretched hand in surprise, you thought your little crush had been completely one-sided. There was no way-

“y/n?”

You snapped back into reality, he was asking for a dance, it didn't mean anything, right?

“Y-yeah, of course!” you stammered, tripping over your words.

Thank god it’s dark in here

He beamed, grabbing your hand and leading you out onto the dance floor. He hesitated a bit with his other hand, nervously laying it on your waist where there was a bit of fabric covering it. He seemed to choke back some words, opening his mouth and closing it promptly as your body was held flush against him.

Your face was red hot as you fell into place against him, linking your hands around his neck. Which felt surprisingly strong.

“Uh… anything on my neck?” Yuuji glanced down, peering at you oddly.

“O-oh, no nothing. Just lost in thought I guess.”

He smiled, which caused your chest and stomach to practically be set on fire at the sight of it. You needed to get your shit together.

“Hey,” he began. “You… look really pretty tonight. And, yeah I know I already said that, but like ya know… i'm glad you came.”

“Well,” you start, trailing your hand up his neck. “ I couldn’t disappoint Sukuna now could I?”

Yuuji huffed, obviously irritated at the mention of his crazed possessor.

“Yeah … well it’s not like his compliment actually matters.”

You chuckled, admiring the way he looked down at you, swaying your bodies in perfect synchrony. You admired the features on his face, trailing down to the little freckles and marks underneath his eyes.

Damn, you bit your lip, he’s really attractive.

“O-oh?”

You froze. Ah shit, did you say that out loud?

Yuuji looked down at you, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted.

Thankfully, the slow song came to an end and you let go of him. But, Yuuji’s arms stayed locked in place, not letting you out of his grasp so easily.

“You really think that?”

Your stomach churned, chest tightening in the realization that yeah, you said he was cute.

“W-well,” you stammered, looking everywhere but him. “I mean.. Maybe..?”

Finally letting go, you both walked back over to the dark corner where he found you.

“Do you wana go outside? It’s kinda stuffy in here..” You trailed off, still refusing to look him in the eye after your previous embarrassment.

He followed after you, grabbing the door for you and holding it open so you could pass through first. Glancing up, you noticed how beautiful it was outside. Moon casting a beautiful glow down on the both of you, you caught his eye.

“Listen, uh y/n.” He blushed, bringing his hand up to scratch the back of his head nervously. “I really want to get something off my chest..”

“Yeah?” You looked up at him, causing his own heart to skip a beat.

“I- I think I really like you. And, I don’t mean it in a friendly way… well obviously not in a creepy way, but; I just catch myself wanting to be near you, and I think about you all the time”

He glanced at you quickly before looking out ahead of him, your gaze burning into him.

“I… just really want to protect you and kiss you? Is that weird? God, that’s weird. You know what nevermind this was stupid. Listen, I need to go--”

You grabbed his hand before he would run away.

“Come here you big idiot.”

Mustering everything you had inside of yourself, you grabbed his cheeks and slammed your lips on top of his. At first he was frozen, his biggest fantasy finally coming to life. He eased into the kiss, hugging you closer to himself as he cupped one half of your face.

Pulling away you giggled, “You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that.”

He smiled dreamily down at you, eyes glazed over in a sense of euphoria.

“D-do you wanna do that again?”

You grabbed his face once more, smiling into the kiss.

“Fucking finally,” Sukuna’s mouth grinned from the side of Yuuji’s face.

#jjk x reader #itadori x reader #jujutsu kaisen #itadori yuuji #jujutsu kaisen imagine #this is my first fic and honestly i wrote this on a whim when i was sleep deprived #i hope you all enjoy #<33!#yuji itadori x reader #yuuji itadori x reader #megumi x reader #gojo x reader

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maybedefinitely404 · 4 years ago

Text

Day 1: Logince

@tsshipmonth2020

Day 1: Your soulmate’s name is on your wrist.

Content: Flower/Tattoo Shop AU, background character death (unspecified cause, none of the sides), that’s pretty much it, it’s just soft Logince.

Word count: 2.7k

A small ding from the store entrance pulled Roman out of his thoughts, and he groaned softly. It was nearing the end of his shift, almost closing time, and another customer at this time would probably mean he was staying after hours again. All he wanted to do was go home and watch cheap reality TV in his sweatpants while shoveling handfuls of hot cheetos into his mouth. So sue him, it had been a long day. But nooo. Someone else had just walked in, probably someone with a very specific style that was out of season and they would argue for half an hour, no matter how many times he explained that tulips aren’t blooming right now, Vanessa!

Sure, usually his customers were great. Nervous first anniversaries, eccentric brides, all that romance stuff. He loved it. And they were usually all too willing to give him a budget and a color scheme and let him go wild, which was the best part about his job. He was good at it, too. His boss had seen his eye for style and almost immediately gave him solo shifts, which meant decently good pay and hours alone to belt out songs amongst the flowers and daydream to his heart’s content. It was a small enough business that the only mandatory part of his outfit was a green apron, so he could wear whatever he wanted, and he didn’t need a pesky nametag. Those had always weirded him out just a bit. So yeah, he loved his job, but right now, he knew himself too well. He had awful luck.

With a forced customer service grin, he poked out of the backroom and began his usual spiel of, “Thanks for coming to The Rainbow Bouquet, what can I get started…”

His words died in his throat at the mere sight of the man before him. Never had he been so equally attracted and frightened at the same time.

He was tall, probably just taller than him, but he held himself in a way that made Roman feel miniscule. Both arms were covered in tattoo sleeves, the left one a flurried mix of black and white and color, beautiful strips of pink and blue galaxies blending with grayscale skulls and clocks. The other had more order; shadows of a forest growing from around his wrist, shimmering mist curling up over his bicep and ending with a full moon stamped on his shoulder like a crest. A corner of something peaked up around the collar of his torn vest, and if Roman had to guess, there were most likely plenty more tattoos that were covered by his ripped black jeans and blue Nasa shirt. Not that his mind was going there at all, no siree.

Once Roman’s brain had screeched to a halt back in his body, he spoke again.

“What can I get started for you today?”

The man swallowed with difficulty, taking in the rows and rows of flowers surrounding him. He definitely didn’t look in his element.

“I need an arrangement for my mother. She’s in the hospital.”

Ah, the part of the job that Roman didn’t enjoy. Probably half the orders that came in were for sick people or funerals, and those were always a lot harder to arrange. It was always hard to find joy in creating for something so dismal.

“I’m sorry to hear. Did you have anything specific in mind? Does she have a favorite flower?”

“Daisies. She likes Daisies,” He murmured, still admiring the space around him. Roman couldn’t help but smile at the man’s expression. It was just a little awe inspired, a little bit of childish wonder, under that rough exterior. It was a gorgeous shop, that’s one of the reasons Roman had started working there.

“That’s good, it makes it a little easier for me to design something when I have that to go off of. Do you have a budget, or…”

He shook his head weakly, finally turning to look at Roman. “Price isn’t an issue. This is one of the last things I’m going to be able to give her.”

“Oh,” Roman whispered, slowly putting down the pen he’d been writing with, “I’m so sorry.”

“It can’t be changed. There’s no point in losing sleep over it.”

“Just because it’s going to happen doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck. You’re allowed to be sad about it.”

The man narrowed his eyes, giving Roman a once over before lifting his chin slightly. “I don’t need advice from a stranger.”

“Of course you don’t,” Roman quickly corrected, remembering he was still at work, “My apologies. When did you want to pick it up?”

“I’m visiting her tomorrow at noon. Could it be ready by then?”

“You bet. Can I have a name for the pick up?”

“Logan.” Roman’s pen skittered over his notepad, almost falling through his fingers.

Having a common name on your wrist was a curse in and of itself. And poor him, the hopeless romantic that he was, had met countless “Logan’s” in his day, and consequently fallen for most of them at first introduction, only to figure out quickly that they weren’t destined for a “Roman”. As inconspicuously as possible, he tried to glance down at Logan’s wrist, only finding a mass of swirling tattoos covering his skin. Dammit. There were some people born without soulmates, or had their soulmark fade to nothingness when their person passed away, and he tried not to think too terribly hard on which one Logan was. He tampered his rush of excitement as quickly as it had arisen and turned back to his notes, ignoring Logan’s raised eyebrow at his sudden stop.

Roman scribbled down the name and phone number as it was given, setting down the notepad with a customer service smile. The man spent no time dawdling, immediately starting towards the door, only to hesitate before walking out.

“Her favorite color is yellow.”

Roman nodded, the fake smile slowly morphing into an authentic one. “I can work with that.”

It was now a week after Logan had picked up the bouquet, a somewhat awkward interaction filled with small compliments towards the arrangement and Roman nearly dropping the flowers as their fingers touched while passing it over. As he was ringing up the total, he’d been able to uphold a brief conversation where Logan revealed he was a tattoo artist (no shock, considering he showed more inked skin than plain), and Roman showed off his rose tattoo on his upper arm. It would have been fine if the conversation ended there, but no, Logan had to reach up tentatively to brush his finger along the edge of the piece, commenting off handedly about how the color had started to fade.

“How long ago did you get this done?”

“Probably ten years, give or take.”

“You’re what, mid twenties? There’s no way you were legal ten years ago.”

“Who said I was?” It was said with a small wink that made Logan pull his hand away, an action that immediately dampened Roman’s mood.

“If you ever want it touched up, come by the shop. It’s just down the road.”

Roman had promised to consider, pulling the collar of his long sleeve shirt back up over the rose and bidding the man a good visit to his mother. Even now, a full week later, he couldn’t help his thoughts that were so centered around the tattoo artist. So maybe that was why Logan walked back into the shop the following Wednesday. I simped so hard I summoned him, Roman thought weakly as the gorgeous man strode straight up to the counter, leaning on it like he owned it.

“I have a question.”

“What’s your question?

“A client asked me yesterday to design a tattoo for her. A bouquet, seen from the top, and all she specified was it should feature hydrangeas, and she asked me to, quote, ‘go nuts’.”

“This isn’t sounding like a question so far.”

Logan sighed apprehensively, adjusting his glasses, “I was hoping you could give me some ideas on how to start. All the tips I found online contradicted each other in some way or another, and the arrangement you created for my mother was so well done…”

He trailed off, giving Roman a look that clearly said I need your help but don’t make me ask for it. Chuckling slightly, he leaned onto the counter as well, his face inches away from Logan’s. For the first time, he could see the small piercing on the man’s tongue as he sighed again. God, that’s hot.

“I’ll help you. On one condition.”

“Being?”

“Help me design my next tattoo.” In full honesty, he hadn’t even considered a second tattoo until that second.

“Deal.” There was no hesitation in his answer, and he took Roman’s offered hand, barely shaking it in the small space between them.

“Alright!” Roman pulled back, satisfied but disappointed as their hands separated, “Let’s talk flowers!”

And talk they did. For hours, in fact. It started with Logan’s tattoo dilemma, and Roman’s skillful eye and creative mind solved that problem in a flash, crudely drawing out a bouquet idea that fit all the criteria. The tattoo artist took it from there, using the notepad paper and Roman’s sketch, along with a quick round of the shop to see what the recommended flowers, fillers, and greens would all look like, and drew out a detailed piece that put Roman’s own art talent to shame. After explaining that his shift was done at the parlor and he had the rest of the afternoon free, Roman invited Logan to stay for a while longer, seeing as his day had dragged on customer-less so far, and he was bored. Plus, now was as good a time as any to pay back the favor. Two mugs of breakroom coffee later, the two were huddled around the counter, Roman describing his ideas and Logan sketching them like there was no tomorrow. Maybe half way through the brainstorm, the conversation switched to Logan’s mother (which he talked about hesitantly), then to Roman’s family, slowly changing to the absurdity of satin couch cushions, then to their favorite foods, and finally ending with a loud debate on whether pineapple deserved to be on pizza.

“It’s a fruit, Logan! Why the hell would you put fruit on a pizza?!”

“All I’m saying is that the sweet flavor of the pineapple balances out the tanginess of the marinara sauce, and adds more to the plain crust!”

“That doesn’t make it right!”

Logan had to go soon after that, wanting to visit his mom before visiting hours ended. He left with a begrudging smile on his face and a promise to come back another day, drawing an ear to ear grin from Roman. He’s just a friend, he reprimanded himself sternly, all the while sliding the drawing of his next possible tattoo into his phone case with startling reverence. No use getting attached to some who wasn’t his soulmate.

Yet, he still couldn’t help but feel saddened as a week passed again, then two, then a month. His job had returned to it’s boring normalcy, with only the flowers and no cute boy to keep him company. Even when he sat at his little desk next to the counter, hands working effortlessly to string together order after order, he couldn’t help the occasional glance at the door. The hope that his prince charming would waltz back in, piercings and ripped clothing galore, never faded.

A month and a half later, the little chime above the door dinged, and Roman glanced up from his handful of Baby’s Breath (seriously people, there are other fillers). Immediately a huge smile pulled at his lips and he dropped the half finished bouquet onto his table.

“Logan! What took you so… long…” His expression morphed into one of worry as he took in the other’s appearance. Gone was the usual grunge attire he was so prone to wearing, replaced with a black hoodie and beaten up Vans. His eyes no longer held that dangerous glimmer that had intimidated Roman so much when they first met. He just looked… small. Logan had never looked small before.

“My mom died last month,” He whispered.

Roman was over the desk in a second, pulling the man into his arms before he could protest. It took Logan a second, a long, awkward, stiff second, before he let his arms wrap around his waist, allowing his forehead to rest on the florist’s shoulder.

“I thought I’d be okay when she died… it was inevitable. It was her time… so why does it still hurt so bad?” The desperate whisper shattered Roman’s heart.

“You’re allowed to feel sad, Logan.” He felt him merely shake his head in response, but he said nothing to push the topic further.

Logan didn’t cry as they stood there, though he clung to Roman almost desperately. If he had to guess, the poor man was probably already cried out. He looked exhausted, and his unusually slumped posture only weakened more when Roman tightened his arms ever so slightly.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner. You were probably waiting.”

“Hey, no apologizing.”

“I just… didn’t want you to see me like this.”

“So what changed your mind?”

Logan shrugged, still not pulling away, “I couldn’t seem to snap myself out of it. And I needed someone who wouldn’t laugh at me. If our few interactions were anything to go by, you were that person.”

Roman decided to ignore the blatant implication that Logan didn’t have anyone except a practical stranger to go to. They could talk about that later, if he decided to stay for a while. Roman really hoped he did.

When the tattoo artist finally pulled out of the hug, many minutes later, he pushed his sweater paws under his glasses to scrub at his eyes. Maybe he hadn’t cried, but he sure was close to it.

“I’m sorry-”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I don’t even know your name, and I-”

“It’s okay, stop-” Roman reeled back slightly, eyebrows shooting into his hairline, “Oh… sweet Zac Efron. I never told you my name! Why didn’t you say anything?!”

“It felt too late to ask,” Logan smirked subtly despite himself, letting his hands fall back to his side.

“Oh, my sweet summer child.”

“I am none of those things.”

Roman sighed in soft exasperation, smiling at the barely perceivable glimmer in the other’s eyes. Ah, there it is. “My name’s Roman. I can’t believe I forgot to tell you.”

He was instantly concerned with the way Logan’s face fell into one of total shock. Shit, what did he do wrong? The fear was quickly replaced with understanding, however, as the artist’s hand drifted to his right wrist.

“What are the chances that your wrist says my name on it?” Logan said it like he was scared to be hopeful, like a happy ending was just not imaginable for him. Roman couldn’t comprehend all the emotions he felt at one time; elation, shock, fear. He answered in a choked voice, smiling all the while.

“One hundred percent.”

The both upturned their arms in near harmony, Roman pulling his gardening glove down to reveal the name. He squinted at Logan’s wrist, finally noticing the small writing that just barely stood out underneath a grayscale (anatomically correct) heart. No wonder he missed it before, it almost blended in with the outline.

And then Logan did cry, but so did Roman, so it was a little more okay. He seemed more confused than anything as Roman pulled him back in, holding him even tighter than before.

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I’m so unused to… well, feeling. I’m not usually like this, I believe I’m just sleep deprived and worn out from-”

“You never, ever need to be guilty for feeling, you absolute punk stereotype.” Roman pressed a long kiss to the other’s temple, letting him unwind in his arms. “We’ll work on that together. I promise.”

A muffled affirmative hum was all he got in response. He pressed another kiss to the top of Logan’s head as his crying slowed, breathing out heavily into the man’s hair. Together. That’s all that mattered.

Peep this gorgeous art piece for this fic

#lywrites #tsshipmonth2020 #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #logince #logan sanders #roman sanders #ts soulmate au

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