#that man could paint me with his homemade icing any day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stardewremixed · 2 years ago

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hii I love your blog, your headcanons are really fun to read.

I just saw your pasta post and I wanted to ask you, could you write something similar, but with desserts? like, the bachelors and Bachelorettes favorite desserts, I they can cook them or not, etc

Thanks :) I hope you have a nice day

Love this idea! I will absolutely do this. tagging @bored-farmer

🍨 Stardudes Favorite Desserts 🍨

Alex

Despite working at the ice cream stand, he doesn't particularly like ice cream, but he enthusiastically shares suggestions for flavors based on your mood or preferences.

Alex is grateful that the owner lets him experiment with flavors. His latest creation? Pancake ice cream!!! Buttermilk ice cream with maple syrup and chunks of chocolate covered bacon. Oh yeah! Who doesn’t love breakfast?

Evelyn's desserts are the best in the world. He has a very "YOU-CAN-FIGHT-ME-if-you-disagree" mentality about it. He's uber protective of his Granny.

Chocolate chip is his fave. He won't even look at someone else's cookies, but if you're friends with both Evelyn and Alex, he would invite the Farmer to join a baking session. He would purposely throw flour in your hair to be playful.

As a kid, Alex recalls sitting in the kitchen and enjoying a cookie and milk after school. Evelyn would kindly ask about his day and sweep the crumbs off his shirt when he was done.

If in a romantic relationship with him, Alex would be strangely blushy if you swept crumbs off his shirt. He views it as a very caring gesture, and associates feelings of warmth and care with it.

When married to him, Alex is over the moon whenever you bake dog treats for Dusty.

Elliott

This man knows his wines and chocolates. Every chocolate has the perfect pairing. White chocolate and Moscato. Milk chocolate and Pinot Noir. Dark chocolate and Merlot.

Really loves chocolate covered pomegranate seeds. Any kind of chocolate covered fruit really. If you dance with him at the Flower Festival, he will send you chocolate covered strawberry as a thank you.

Leah talked him into painting with chocolate once. It was a messy experience. Watch the hair! Never again.

He savors every experience. He never eats fast. Each bite of exceptional chocolate is followed by a happy little hum.

Is actively petitioning Mayor Lewis for a Stardew Chocolate Festival. If in a relationship with the farmer, he would recommend their chocolate covered fruits and nuts, and suggest chocolate infused honey.

In the fall, he craves your pomegranate crisp. Would borrow an ice cream maker from Marnie to churn homemade fresh vanilla to go with this famous dessert. Probably called Willy over to help. He would show up at the farm, puffing hair out of his face, and surprise you with the dessert.

Harvey

Likes a little mandel bread with his morning coffee. A crisp, twice-baked Jewish cookie like biscotti. He pulls the cookie out of the jar, and nibbles on it while waiting for his coffee to brew. A delightful morning ritual.

His mother taught him how to make Sufganiyot (jelly-filled donuts) served around Hanukkah. Harvey pulls out his rolling pin, apron, and baking tools every year for this tradition. Then he serves the donuts down at the VA. While there he would try to cheer up Kent and Linus. His donuts are one of the only things that make them happy, and he takes pride in bringing joy to these men who served his country.

Harvey wouldn’t keep any donuts for himself. So if there are any leftover, he will pass them out for free at the Winter Night Market. Hey, they go great with coffee.

Closes the clinic for the day to drive to Zuzu in early winter. The city is the only place he can find the traditional Hanukkah gelt (gold coin chocolates) and candied dreidels. If in a relationship with him, he invites you along for the trip. You enjoy jazz during the road trip. He packs hot cocoa in a thermos and an extra scarf for the trip. He’s embarrassed to admit that he forgot an extra cup. You’ll have to share. (now Harvey, is that so bad?) 😉

Sam

Hands down. A root beer float guy. Any kind of soda float guy. Strawberry. Cola. Orange. Grape. Makes funny ice cream moustaches with Vincent. Jodi comes in the kitchen wondering what all the giggling is about.

Would be genuinely so surprised that people make alcoholic root beer. His excitable little grin warms your heart. Doesn’t realize how addicting these are. Would slosh back multiples on the lake pier with Shane (who is very what-the-fizzlesticks about it). Wakes up the next day with a hangover.

Absolutely a breakfast pastry lover. Cinnamon rolls. Muffins. Turnovers. Bagels. Croissants. Danishes. Strudels. Maple bars are, of course, his favorite.

When he was a kid, Kent would take him out early on Saturday mornings so Jodi could sleep in. They would pick up donuts, coffee, and the newspaper. When he arrived back at the house, Sam would whistle the Reveille (the military morning bugle song) to let his mom know they arrived. Jodi hated it, but Kent was secretly so proud his son remembered the song.

Would promise his whole class that he would bring something for the bake sale. Jodi always sighed because she wasn’t “informed,” but she made the desserts anyway.

Sam is pretty abysmal in the kitchen, constantly distracted, missing the timer, running back to the fridge for ingredients he forgot, leaving the oven on after taking stuff out. But if you offered to make sweets with him, he would make his absolute best effort.

An ideal date night would be making cinnamon sticks to eat with pizza drizzled with honey from your farm. If you fell asleep in his room, he would reheat a few in the morning and bring you coffee in bed.

Sebastian

Rolls his own mochi. He gets really into it too. Spends a day picking out the best ingredients.

Makes a cooking music playlist that sounds nothing like what a normal cooking playlist would sound like. Heavy metal, some goth punk, random alternative.

Headphones on, he would cook in the middle of the night. That's when he is least likely to be disturbed. Unless of course Robin is working late on your farm. If she happens in, he gives his mom a taste.

If in a romantic relationship, Seb would invite you to join him in making mochi. And he would carry you home after you passed out at 2am, tuck you in bed, kiss you on the forehead, and leave you mochi in your freezer.

Shane

He's a quick and easy kind of guy. Cookies, candy, ice cream. Gets a good employee discount at Joja so he can stock up on his faves. Best hangover food.

Frequently patronizes Alex's stand in the summertime. The ice cream tastes better. He might even hang out for a bit and chat gridball with Alex if he has nothing better to do.

Sometimes Evelyn leaves him cookies. He likes her rocky road bites. The crunchy sweetness is delicious.

Egg custard tarts are a favorite of his. Best with fresh eggs from the Ranch. Every year Marnie makes it for Shane on his birthday.

If in a romantic relationship with him, he would learn how to hand crank ice cream just for you, with fresh cream from Marnie's ranch and a big bag of ice from Pierre's (once Joja closes, he would get a job there).

Lance

can’t wait until they serve stardrop sorbet at Alex’s ice cream stand. It only happens once a year. Sets his alarm extra early that morning. Shows up before they’re even open.

would be over the moon if you baked him a golden pumpkin pie.

If in a romantic relationship, he comes home just for your kisses - it’s dessert enough. 😘 Brings you a treat from his latest travel spot.

Magnus

working on creating a dessert elixir - it would sweeten any poor quality food for a short time.

anything with black licorice - even in coffee.

definitely likes spooky treats - bat brownies, ghost marshmallows, candy corn pretzel spiders.

bakes winter star cookies every winter. Drops sprinkles all over the kitchen.

appreciates if the Farmer brings him sweets while he’s double checking the magical barrier.

Victor

has expensive taste and knows it. You can blame Olivia.

also loves stardrop sorbet. He makes happy little sounds when he eats it.

loves coffee-flavored desserts. Cappucino mousse is his self-declared favorite, but he enjoys coffee-flavored ice cream in the summers.

waits in line a long time for his favorite truffle popcorn. It may not be a typical dessert, but it’s a delicious snack.

orders tiramisu from a specific bakery in Zuzu City. If in a romantic relationship with the Farmer, he would share.

I'll do the bachelorettes next. Hope you enjoyed!

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jungshookz · 4 years ago

Text

the one where yoongi hates his therapist but kind of likes her receptionist; lveb!verse

➺ pairing; min yoongi x reader

➺ genre; lveb!universe equal parts emotionally constipated and cheeky yoongi!! the man of our dreams!! i don’t really know what to categorize this drabble as but it’s cute and it’s sfw <3

➺ wordcount: 5k

➺ summary; yoongi hates going to therapy - but you and your dumb little hershey kisses make it a tiny bit better, he supposes.

➺ what to expect; “you like a man who’s unable to form emotional bonds with people, baby?”

➺ optional reading: not necessary but feel free to read la vie en bonsai just to get a feel for what yoongi’s like and why we’re all falling hopelessly in love with him!!

»»————-　♡　————-««

“see you next week, yoongi!”

“uh-huh, yep.” the smile on yoongi’s face drops as soon as he shuts the door behind him and he immediately rolls his eyes

well

that was an hour and a half of his life that could’ve gone towards something more productive

watching paint dry probably would’ve been more productive than whatever the hell that was

dr. i-don’t-have-chairs-but-i-have-beanbags basically spent the entire session asking him to list out things that he loved which he thought was going to be an easy task because he liked a lot of things!

and everything was easy peasy lemon squeezy until dr. glittery-purple-nameplate pointed out that yoongi kept saying that he ‘liked’ this and he ‘liked’ that and he’d never actually said he ‘loved’ anything once and then she went into the whole ‘why do you think you’re so scared of love?’ thing and his eyes rolled so far back into his skull that he actually saw his pink, wrinkly brain

he knows that she’s just doing her job but he’d really appreciate if one of his sessions with her just consisted of the two of them sitting in silence while scrolling through their phones

he even asked her one time if it’d be alright if they did that just so he could tell his friend (the one that sent him here) that he willingly sat through an entire session of therapy

obviously she said no and yoongi resisted the urge to use that as an excuse to give her 1/5 stars on google reviews (unfortunately the option to give 0 stars isn’t available)

it’s just really hard to believe that dr. are-you-more-comfortable-opening-up-to-my-homemade-handpuppet-rory-the-lion has 5/5 shining gold stars on basically every single one of her google reviews

yoongi should be happy that he’s going to one of the best therapists in the city but he’s noT because: he doesn’t even need therapy!

he doesn’t even know why he’s here!

he shouldn’t be in therapy!

he’s min frickin yoongi!!

what the hell does he need a therapist for??

what the hell does he need therapy for?!

he can literally solve his own problems

if he’s sad he just plays video games all day and also eats an entire pint of ice cream

if he’s mad he just plays violent video games all day and aggressively shoves an entire pint of ice cream into his mouth

he’s spent his entire life coming up with different coping mechanisms for himself and he thinks that he has a pretty good grip on his emotions

the only one that he’s a little iffy about is obviously <3 love <3 but-

that’s not a big deal, is it?

yes, technically speaking, he’s “emotionally unavailable” or whatever, but he really doesn’t know why that’s such an issue

yes, the thought of committing to someone in a long-term relationship and the thought of saying “i love you” to someone makes him want to rip his skin off but again, he really doesn’t know why that’s such a big iSSUE

besides

emotional unavailability is sexy

whenever he tells someone that he’s incapable of loving and the sex we’re going to have in three seconds will be animalistic and primal and will also mean nothing to me whatsoever their underwear basically flies off their legs and out the window

so, again: what! is! the! big! problem!

the only reason why he’s here is because, as mentioned earlier, one of his friends set up an appointment for him because god knows he’s not here of his own accord

(also, she did it without asking him first, so he’s still a little upset with her, but she made him a whole batch of brownies as a form of an apology so now he’s a little less upset with her. just a little, though.)

he knows she means well and only wants the best for him but he’s starting to think that maybe she sent him here to torture him and not to help him

his original plan was to go for like one or two sessions and then end it there buT there’s just a teeny little detail he has yet to mention

there is one (1) thing that keeps him coming back every week

he’d even go as far as to say that this thing is the only thing that motivates him to continue to waste his hard-earned money on these weekly appointments

and that thing is-

“yoongi!” your eyes light up and yoongi can’t help but smile at how excited you are to see him even though you literally saw him when he was checking in an hour and a half ago, “how was your session?”

“it was-”

“oh, wait!” you gasp before pressing a finger up against your lips, “i don’t know if i’m legally allowed to ask you that. pretend i didn’t said anything.”

“my session was fine-” yoongi ignores you as he folds his arms up on the counter and leans forward, “i’m still dead on the inside and the concept of love remains ever so terrifying, so… yeah! everything’s pretty much the same.”

“ah, yes.” you lean forward as well, “that’s exactly what every girl wants to hear.”

“oh yeah?” the corner of yoongi’s mouth twitches in a smirk, “you like a man who’s unable to form emotional bonds with people, baby?” he asks in a particularly sultry tone and you grin in response

“you gotta stop calling me that before i fully fall in love with you, yoongi-” you sigh dramatically before flittering your lashes at him and yoongi laughs lightly, “well, it is what it is. one day at a time, right?”

“baby steps.” yoongi hums and you nod in agreement before suddenly perking up

“hey- you want a kiss?”

another reason why yoongi enjoys your company is because you keep a little gumball machine on your desk

except you despise gumballs (you told him that on his very first day here when he asked you why there were no gumballs in what was obviously a mini gumball machine) so you filled it up with hershey’s chocolate kisses instead (you change the flavour of them every week! last week they were the milk chocolate almond ones)

“a kiss? from you?” yoongi digs his hands into his pockets, “at least let me put some chapstick on first, darling.”

“you know what i mean, yoongi.” you roll your eyes playfully before plopping the machine down in front of him, “they’re the cookies and creme ones this week!”

"mhm. whatever helps you sleep at night, y/n.”

♡

“see you next week, yoongi!”

“you got it, chief.” yoongi forces a smile before promptly shutting the door behind him

he lets out a huff before shaking his hair out of his eyes

somehow the hour and a half in there felt more like four hours and a half

he kept looking at the clock and whenever he thought that at least a good twenty minutes had gone by, it’d turn out that only like two and a half minutes had gone by!

he feels like maybe once the door is shut that time just ceases to exist

today he was forced to talk about all of the romantic relationships he’s ever had and that’s something that he’s never really discussed with… anyone, really.

not even his closest friends!

yoongi’s had a multitude of flings but he’s been in three serious-ish relationships (yes, he knows that’s a huge surprise) - obviously none of them worked out because he’s now in therapy for his intimacy issues, but still

needless to say, they messed him up pretty bad

see, his problem was (and you probably wouldn’t be able to guess it after looking at him) the fact that he… fell in love too hard and way too fast.

his first one was in high school - he was pretty much ready to marry this girl and even gave her a promise ring to which she freaked out and broke up with him on the spot

(she said she felt that it would be better if they broke up since they were both going off to different universities and long distance relationships were tough)

(on the same day they broke up she immediately changed her facebook status back to single which yoongi thought was a pretty icy thing to do)

his second one was in his first year of university (not very long after the high school breakup because that’s how desperate he was to fall in love again) and he wasn’t super sure if he loved this person or if he just wanted to fill the empty void inside of him bUT after two months of dating yoongi asked them if they wanted to move into the same dorm together for the second semester of first year - they said no.

and then they broke up with him.

and yoongi ended up with a single-person dorm, which was great!

:D because it meant no one could hear him crying himself to sleep at night worrying that he would never find true love and that no one would ever love him :D

and finally, with his last relationship, he told [unnamed person because yoongi would like to keep that private, thank you very much] that he loved them, like, two weeks after they’d started properly dating (they’d known each other for a year before getting together so yoongi didn’t think it was that weird. it’s not that weird, right??)

long story short, they didn’t say it back, and instead responded with: “oh! thank… you?” and that was a pretty devastating (and humiliating) blow for yoongi and it was after that breakup that he decided that things just had to change

he couldn’t be this person for the rest of his life!

this pathetic wimpy shrimPY little ‘<3 i love you <3’ weak-ass PUNK

eventually he figured that if he just turned all his emotions off, he wouldn’t run into anymore issues

it’s like that saying mo’ money mo’ problems except in this case it would be less emotions less problems

and he thinks it’s been working out pretty well for him so far!

he’s never gotten attached to any of his one-night stands (although he can’t say the same for them, because c’mon - he’s an absolute catch)

and he kind of takes pleasure knowing that they want to have something more with him when he doesn’t want anything at all

he likes playing with feelings

it’s like dangling a piece of candy over a little baby

it’s fun!

…does that make him a twisted individual?

is he going to go to hell for being a little emotionally manipulative?

also he always finds himself snickering whenever one of his friends started talking about how much they love (gags) their significant others

even the one who sent him here - she just started dating someone in her apartment building - is fully in love with her significant other (he might even go as far to say it was love at first sight for the both of them (double gag)) and sometimes yoongi has to shove a croissant into her mouth just to get her to stop blabbing about how fond she is of her boyfriend

after all this time, yoongi has finally figured out that love is merely a concept

it’s not real!

it’s an idea.

love is not real.

so, again - yoongi genuinely doesn’t see the issue with being emotionally unavailable.

this isn’t just him being stubborn or anything - he literally cannot come up with one single reason as to why being emotionally constipated is such a bad thing

real life constipation is pretty bad but emotional constipation is totally fine!

emotions make everything that much more difficult and he doesn’t have the time nor the energy to deal with it

being emotionally unavailable makes life easy, breezy AND beautiful!

...

of course, there is the one slight issue that sometimes pops into his mind

is he okay with being like this for the rest of his life?

because if he is, he’s… literally going to die alone.

sure, his friends will be there (unless they die before him, in which case he’s actually going to be alone), but even yoongi has to admit that platonic companionship and romantic companionship are two entirely different things

is he truly incapable of falling in love with someone?

he... doesn’t like thinking about that

he prefers to keep those gloomy thoughts tucked away in the dusty basement of his brain

he’d much rather think about-

“yoongi!” you greet as enthusiastically as always as yoongi rounds the corner, “have fun today?”

fun?

in therapy?

that’s hilarious.

“fun? oh, yeah.” yoongi snorts as he folds his arms up on the countertop, “i even got to talk to rory today.”

the two of you exchange knowing glances and you snort before quickly reaching up to clap a hand over your mouth

hey!

you’re supposed to be supportive of rory’s role in therapy!

he has a very important job

one might say that his job of providing emotional support is far more important that yours, you measly little receptionist

you make appointments all day but rory saves lives

“well, i’m… glad that rory is helping you during these trying times.” you clear your throat as you straighten up in your seat

if you get caught making fun of rory you’re dead meat

“mhm.” yoongi nods before leaning over a little, “now gimme a kiss, babe.”

your heart skips a beat in your chest and you can’t help but grin when yoongi turns his head and points to his cheek, “well?”

“milk chocolate caramel this week, babe.” you hum as you place the little gumball machine in front of him

“ooh, yummy-“ yoongi’s eyes widen in excitement as he cranks the metal knob, “so, you got any plans tonight?”

a single kiss plops out and he opens up the little metal flap to take it out

“eh, i mean i guess i do?” you shift in your seat before shrugging, “sort of.”

yoongi raises a brow as he unwraps the tin foil, “what’s that supposed to mean? you got a hot date or something?”

“...yep!”

wait what

yoongi pauses right as he’s about to pop the chocolate into his mouth

because he was… just kidding about that

that was supposed to be a joke

“oh!” yoongi clears his throat, “well, who- who are you… who are you going out with? tell me about them.”

“oh, you don’t wanna-” you shake your head, “the details are boring, i promise it’s nothing to geek out over-”

“no, c’mon! tell me.” yoongi shoves the wrapping into his mouth as the chocolate melts over his tongue, “give me the deets.”

“alright, well…” you reach up to push your glasses up, “i actually met him at the club that he works at! he’s a bartender. we’ve gone out on a couple of dates and he’s really nice! he’s super nice, i just- i don’t know. i guess i just- there’s not much of a spark, you know? he’s taken me out four times and he kissed me on the last one and it was nice but… i don’t know. i’m not sure i even know where i’m going with this story- b-but he’s nice!”

yoongi nods slowly as he pokes his tongue against the inside of his cheek

well

good for you!

whatever

you’re going on a date and it’s whatever

it’s not like he cares

because if he cared it would imply that he has feelings for you

and in case it wasn’t already clear, yoongi is incapable of having any feelings at all because that’s just who he is

he’s spent years building his status as an emotionless android and he’s not going to let a stinky girl like you ruin it (you are not stinky. you smell like pears and it’s very pleasing to his nostrils. and he hates that he spent thirty minutes at the drugstore sniffing multiple shampoos until he found the one that he’s pretty sure is the one you use. and now his pillows smell like you.)

“nice, nice…” yoongi mutters under his breath, “anyways, i should, um, probably go! i’m like, two minutes away from getting a parking ticket-” he laughs nervously before reaching up to scratch the back of his head

“oh! okay, yeah-” you take the gumball machine down and set it back down next to your monitor, “are you- is everything okay?”

yoongi’s no longer looking at you and you’re usually the first one to break eye contact so this is… odd

“yeah, i just- i remembered i had a thing, so-” yoongi coughs into his fist, “yeah, i gotta go.”

“should i- should i put you down for next week, or-” you get up from your seat quickly when yoongi basically sprints towards the elevators

“yeah!” he flicks his wrist at you, “um, yeah- go for it. i’m just gonna-”

ding!

the elevator doors slide open and yoongi rushes in at the speed of light

“s-same time, or-”

the door glide shut before you get a chance to finish asking your question and you can’t help but feel a little… rejected?

even though you’re not entirely sure what it is you’re being rejected by

that was weird

that was weird, right?

it’s not just your imagination?

you frown to yourself as you plop back down on your squeaky chair

maybe your chocolates tasted funky or something?

you unwrap one for yourself before popping it into your mouth

…

no, the chocolates are fine!

what went wrong?

you chew on the inside of your cheek anxiously as you quickly go through what just happened

everything was fine

everything was normal up until the point you said you were going out on a date…

oOh, maybe you shouldn’t have brought up dates or anything like that

you don’t know too much about yoongi’s sessions besides the fact that he has intimacy issues but maybe the subject of dating was triggering for him?

damnit

you idiot!

this is why you could never be a therapist because you’d probably end up traumatizing your patients instead of helping them

you should’ve just told yoongi that your plans tonight involved NO dating and it was just going to be you going to town on a pizza at home

it’s too bad

you were kind of hoping the reason why he started acting so weirdly was because he didn’t want you to go out on a date

here’s the thing:

you… you sort of… have a little crush on yoongi. at least, you think you do.

you can’t help it!

he’s surprisingly very sweet and he has that boyish charm that you’re really into anD he’s also super goofy AND hello!!!! even when you’re not wearing your glasses you can see that he’s really attractive!!!

sometimes you find yourself daydreaming about that smirk of his

it just makes you feel tingly

...

what were you talking about again?

right!

you’re pretty sure the two of you use the same shampoo and you don’t want to be that person but...

match made in heaven?

you’d like to think so.

you just don’t want to ruin this super fun and bantery and also kind of flirty relationship you have with him (though, now that you’re thinking about it, you can’t help but wonder if it’s actual flirting or if yoongi’s just doing his thing) and you knoW he’s definitely going to freak out if you’re suddenly like hey,.,. do u,.,. maybe wanna go out on a date or something.,,. because i think i have a teeny crush on you because even though you’re dead on the inside you are OBSCENELY charming and witty and attractive and everything i want in a significant other,.,.

yoongi would run for the hills if he ever found out you felt that way about him!

“good going, y/n.” you grumble to yourself as you lean back against your chair

well

you can worry about your yoongi-related issues later

you have a date with a cute bartender to get to

a cute, very nice bartender

♡

yoongi’s jealous.

at least, he thinks he’s jealous

this is weird, right?

because yoongi doesn’t get jealous!

he doesn’t get jealous over anything so whY does he not like the idea of you going out with someone who isn’t him?

yoongi squeezes his fingers tighter around his steering wheel as he stares ahead with knitted brows

he left the office like half an hour ago and now he’s just been sitting in his car in silence

and before you ask, yes, there was a parking ticket tucked behind his windshield wiper when he came down here

“jealous, jealous…” yoongi mutters to himself before shaking his head and letting out a huff, “no. i’m not jealous. i’m not!”

he’s not jealous because he doesn’t like you!

he doesn’t!

he likes flirting with you, it doesn’t mean that he likes you

of course, if he didn’t like you… he wouldn’t be grinning like an idiot every time you greet him

if he didn’t like you, he would’ve called you out on your lame ‘you want a kiss?’ joke a long, lonG time ago - instead he just lets you keep saying it because he knows you like making the same joke over and over again

if he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t be coming back to therapy every week, for crying out loud

if he didn’t like you, he wouldn’t have bought pear-scented shampoo for himself

he should be buying manly shampoos!

like… winter breeze!

or… musky oak??

or diRTy monster truck??!? (he’s not sure if that’s an actual shampoo scent for men, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was)

you know, those kinds of scents!

not frickin pear

yoongi pauses when he realises that he actually doesn’t mind the thought of waking up next to you

he feels his heart skip a beat and he gasps in surprise before quickly slapping his hand up against his chest

oh god

it’s happening!

“…son of a bitch!” yoongi groans as he slams his head back against the headrest, “are you kidding me?!”

he’s feeling!

NO!!!!

that, or he’s having a heart attack

(he’d rather have the heart attack.)

yoongi turns his head right as you exit the building and he doesn’t know where these emotions are coming from but all of a sudden he’s being flooded with what can only be describe as…

pure, blinding rage

“what the hell did you put in those damn chocolates?!” yoongi slams the car door behind him and you practically leap ten feet into the air

“i have no money in my wallet i only have a starbucks gift card and it has like three dollars left on- oh.” you immediately relax when you realize that you’re not about to be robbed

it’s just yoongi

your eyes widen in slight fear when you see him storm his way over to you with his fists clenched at his sides looking like he wants to skin you alive

“you are unbelievable.”

“me??” you shake your head in confusion, “yoongi, what are you-” you pause to glance down at your watch, “why are you still here? you left, like, forty minutes ago-”

“answer the question, y/n!“ yoongi crosses his arms, “you did something to those chocolates! that’s the only reason why i’m feeling like this-”

“what- i don’t- is it your stomach or something?? maybe you’re lactose intolerant-”

“nO, i don’t mean i physically feel something-“ yoongi looks around before leaning in, “i’m feeling something.”

you frown

“yoongi, the chocolates aren’t special chocolates, if that’s what you’re implying. there are kids that come to the office, i can’t go around giving out marijuana infused hershey kisses-”

“i don’t want you to go out with your nice bartender guy!” yoongi blurts out, “because i… i want you to go out with me instead.”

you pull back in surprise before tilting your head curiously

…what?

“what do you- what are- what?” you ask incredulously before narrowing your eyes at him

did he just... ask you out?

yoongi swallows nervously

his pure rage has now been replaced by pure anxiety

“i’m saying that i-” yoongi shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, “i’m- i wanna be the one to take you out. o-on a date. or whatever they’re called.”

“you wanna take me out on a date?” you ask dumbly and yoongi rolls his eyes

“a.. i mean i guess it’s technically a da..ate...” yoongi’s mouth goes dry and you can see the panic quickly filling his pretty brown eyes

“we don’t- we don’t have to call it a date!” you perk up, “we can just... we can call it a... flirty hangout!”

“a flirty hangout?”

“a flangout.”

yoongi takes a second to think it over

a flangout

yeah!

he can do a flangout because a flangout is noT a date

“i’m sorry, i just-” you wave a hand in front of yourself, “i thought your whole schtick was that you didn’t believe in dates- flangouts- and ooey-gooey holding hands related situations, so why would you wanna-”

“because i like you!” yoongi groans before looking away from you and running a hand through his hair, “i think? i don’t know, okay? i know that i’m definitely attracted to- i just- you make me- i like talking to you after my sessions are over, and i like that you keep a gumball machine on your desk even though it still doesn’t make sense to me that you’ve filled it with kisses and not with actual gumballs, and i like that even though you know i, professionally speaking, have very intense intimacy issues, i-i like that you don’t judge me for it...” he trails off before letting out a breath and turning back to face you, “you can say no, obviously, but… i just think you’re really pretty and i think you know exactly what you’re doing whenever you ask me if i want a kiss.”

you blink owlishly at yoongi and he immediately feels like he’s about to projectile vomit everywhere

see??

this is exactly what he means when he says that feelings make literally everything ten times more complicated

he just told you that he likes you and now he just made things awkward!

which means noW he has to go find a new therapist-

wait, no

nope! he’s not going to find another therapist - he’s just going to noT go to therapy

why?

because min frickin’ yoongi doesn’t need therapy-

“i do.” yoongi looks at you with wide eyes when you suddenly speak up

you do

did… did he PROPOSE to you?!

great!!

of course he did!!

his feelings are back and they’re even worse than before-

“i do know exactly what i’m doing whenever i ask you if you wanna kiss-“ you hold up a finger to correct yourself, “if you want a kiss.”

“i’m happy with either one of those options-“

“there is one minor issue, though.” you turn your phone around to show yoongi, “what am i supposed to tell sweet tae?”

“who the hell is tae- ohhhh, bartender guy.” yoongi winces as he glances at your texts briefly, “i forgot about him.”

“nice bartender guy!!” you push your bottom lip out in a pout as you scroll through your texts with taehyung

:-(

his last message to you was ‘excited for tonight!! see you soon :-)’

:-(((((((

“do you… do you genuinely like him?” yoongi asks cautiously

“i mean, i- i don’t noT like him, you know?” you sigh and reach up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “it’s just that… he’s so nice-”

“okay, i think we’ve got that part covered-”

“i don’t wanna break his heart!!” you whine, “what do i do?!”

“alright, here’s what you’re going to do-” yoongi clears his throat, “you go out with him tonight-”

“but i don’t want to lead him o-”

“you go out with nice bartender tae tonight to tell him that it’s over. and you tell him that you’ve really enjoying spending time with him, but you feel like the two of you would be better off as friends. it’s simple, it’s clean, it’s straight to the point! no harm, no foul.” yoongi dusts his hands off before smiling proudly, “and then i’ll take you to the mcdonalds drive-thru for dessert.”

“i mean, i guess so…” you purse your lips in thought, “should i, like… if he kisses me or something, should i kiss him back?”

“you’re going to pity-kiss him?” yoongi gasps dramatically before tutting at you, “wow. and i’m the one in therapy.”

“wha-”

“now, c’mon-” yoongi places his hand on the small of your back as he leads you towards his car, “let me drive you to your gross date so that we can go on our cool flangout afterwards-”

“you know, they’re doing a limited edition chips ahoy mcflurry right now-“ you grin excitedly as yoongi opens the door for you, “you wanna split one with me?”

“split one?” yoongi scoffs and bends down a little so he can look you directly in the eye, the corner of his mouth curling upwards in a teasing smirk, “baby, i’ll get you your very own mcflurry-”

(it turns out that taehyung actually planned to end things tonight, too - he said if you ever made your way back to his bar he’d give you a cocktail on the house! so, it looks like you can have your cake and eat it too.)

help me help you make your wishes come tru (aka send me a request)

requested drabbles masterlist

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elysianslove · 4 years ago

Text

the way to a man’s heart; miya osamu

requested by anon; ❝ hi !!! um 😳 i may have, ,, a particularly detailed request for an osamu scenario where he has an acquaintance through kita but is younger but close friends with who’s reaaally good at cooking so they made a bento for them (suna, kita, gin, aran, omimi) who’s usually with reader during lunch but osamu tagged along that specific day for some reason and he could SWEAR he’s never tasted a better homemade food. and at first he don’t realise his crush at all maybe until suna or atsumu provoked him relentlessly one day he invited them to be his taste tester and the lightbulb jus appeared on his head like,,, “i’d be damned if i share their (romantic) feelings for anyone” then boom a sudden, clumsy confession out of samu 🥺🥺🥺 ❞

synopsis; in which osamu fell in love with the magic in your hands, before falling for all of you

pairings; miya osamu x reader

genre; fluff

warnings; probably some curses but nothing else!

none; i hope i didn’t get any of the details wrong, and that you and everyone else enjoys this. mwah <3

━━ osamu knew of love. he’d seen in dramatized in the movies he’d watch with his mother, his head tucked on her lap, and he’d seen it with his parents once upon a time too. he sees it with him and his brother, and the way they always come back to each other. he sees it between his teammates, how they’re pillars for each other, a safety net, a family. he feels it when his brother tosses a volleyball perfectly to him, when it flies directly to his palm, when he hits it sharply. he feels it when no one but him resides in his home, and he’s left to his own devices in the kitchen, his true passion brewing deep within him.

he’s familiar with the idea of love, of course. it’s everywhere around him, if he really looks. but he’s never tasted it for himself, never had it trap his breath in his lungs, never had it make him feel so lightweight, as lightweight he’d felt when he’d finally had the pleasure of meeting you.

he remembers it clearly, as if there was ever a chance he’d ever forget. you’d approached the boys’ gymnasium after school, right before practice, still donning your school uniform, your schoolbag strapped to your shoulder, an extra one weighed in your arms. you looked familiar in the sense that you’d definitely crossed paths before, but he couldn’t identify you.

his captain, however, to his surprise, could. the moment the older boy spotted you, a soft smile painted his lips, and he rose from his place on the floor where he’d been stretching, walking over to where you were. a similar smile is on aran’s face as he watches the exchange, standing up to join you and kita. osamu couldn’t hear what you had been saying, or what the conversation between the three of you had been. he could only see the shy smile on your face, the way you looked so comfortable with the captain and ace, and finally, as you placed the bag in your arms into kita’s welcoming ones, bowing your head slightly as you waved goodbye to them. then you’d leaned slightly to the side, peaking behind aran’s large figure, and waved at him and the rest of the boys, wishing them a good practice.

his heart had swelled in his chest weirdly, a reaction he hadn’t expected. it isn’t as if the grey haired spiker was a stranger to crushes. he’d liked people, had people swoon over him, taken many out on dates, kissed different people. but never had a response from him to a person’s simple wave been so sudden, so quick, so natural, as if no other reaction seemed probable. it’s as if his brain had decided immediately, without any warning, without any further information, that he wanted you, regardless.

“it’s bento, for all of us,” kita had explained as he’d set the bag aside.

you’d really taken the time to make it for all the teammates? had it been a special occasion? had they recently won a match? there was nothing he could pinpoint to.

and after practice, when they’d all settled underneath the setting sun, and dug into their food, osamu decided that this was reason enough for the sudden interest in you.

it had been the first time he’d tasted love, so clearly and so surely.

after that specific day, each teammate had taken their time to ask of kita to pass on their gratitude to you, and their want for more. kita had laughed, promising to pass on the message, and so osamu began to see you every other day.

at the start, you remained by kita’s side, occasionally aran’s, the unfamiliar environment no doubt overwhelming you. but slowly, the boys began to approach you, and you let them. it had been easy for you to grow comfortable with akagi and ginjima, what with their never ending liveliness. atsumu teased and messed with you enough for you to one day return the quips. suna was a steady presence, omimi a strong one. and osamu, osamu with your mutual love of food, and with your natural gravitation with him, and with the way you always found something to talk about.

it’s normal to find you within the gymnasium now, bag filled with bento, even personalized ones for each of the boys, watching as they practice, enjoying your own food with them beneath the sunset, just outside the school’s gates. always can osamu look up and find your chin tucked in your palm, watching intently as they practice.

and always does he convince himself that the way you look at him is nothing more than fascination, the way he looks at you with nothing more than mere admiration.

“are ya an idiot, ‘samu?”

“what?”

the older twin huffs, shoving at his brother as they sit by side on an unoccupied park bench. there are polar opposite ice cream cones in each of their hands, melting only a little underneath the sun that blares down on them. at his brother’s actions, osamu tilts to the side, stumbling, his grip on his cone faltering momentarily.

“i asked ya a question,” atsumu says, and osamu turns his head to face his brother, glaring sharply at the faux blond.

refraining from breaking the waffle cone by gripping it too tight, osamu’s eye twitches and he replies, “what is wrong with ya?”

atsumu rolls his eyes. “fine,” he retorts. “are ya blind?”

“if i wasn’t holdin’ ice cream i’d kick yer ass.”

he moves his gaze, after another threatening glare, and focuses back on his ice cream.

“ya ever been in love, ‘samu?” atsumu continues, seemingly choosing to ignore osamu’s threats. “’cause i think ya have.”

what?

osamu freezes, his gaze frozen on the grass right beneath by outstretched legs. had his brother officially lost it? it isn’t that talks like these are unusual between them, if anything, they’re rather common. having shared everything from a womb to rooms to hobbies with him, osamu trusts no one the way he does atsumu, which translates to being able to confide in him the way he would with no one else, unafraid of any judgement. more often than not, their mindsets align, even if their approaches and personal beliefs might differ. after all, they grew up in the same environment, and interacted with the same people. and although having talks like these, deep, confrontational talks, is not uncommon (even if they usually take place at obscure timings, such as three and four in the morning), it still sounds too confrontational for osamu.

maybe it’s because he himself had been avoiding this.

“damn ya and yer stupid inability to admit yer own feelings for someone,” atsumu adds, sighing lowly. “if ya like someone, tell them.”

“i don’—“

“who are ya trying to lie to?” atsumu jokingly retorts. “don’t waste an opportunity because of yer idiocy.”

“quit callin’ me an idiot.”

atsumu pauses, licks at his ice cream, before smiling tauntingly glancing over at his twin. “idiot.”

the ice cream cone can go to hell. atsumu really does deserve to have his ass kicked.

hi :)

is the smiley face too much? he backspaces, leg bouncing, fingers picking at his lips nervously.

hey!

no, the exclamation mark is definitely too much.

heyyy

he’s going to punch something. probably atsumu, for talking him into this in the first place. and suna, possibly, because he looks to be enjoying osamu’s suffering a little too much.

“have ya never texted before?” the middle blocker teases from where he lays on osamu’s bed to his side, propped up by the pillows. not sparing him a glance, the grey haired spiker lifts a middle finger, directing it at him. osamu hears an amused laugh, before his friend leans on an elbow and speaks up again, “if only they can see ya now, pussy.”

osamu picks up a pillow, tossing it as hard as he can at suna. the middle blocker only laughs louder, falling leisurely against the pillows once more.

hey, what’s up? :)

this one’s the worst one by far. he backspaces again, throwing his head back in frustration. his phone lays loosely in his hand, open on the empty chat between you and him. all of a sudden, the device is snatched from his grasp, and osamu’s eyes fly open. he sits up in fear, looking across the room where atsumu’s hands fly over the keyboard, typing out a message.

“you fucker,” osamu curses, standing up and marching over to atsumu. the setter laughs loudly, suna with him, and hits send before osamu could reach him, tossing the phone onto the bed.

“yer welcome,” atsumu taunts.

osamu rushes over to where the phone lays face down, before carefully, cautiously, and fearfully, picking it up, and turning it over.

hey! just wondering if you’re free sometime soon?

would love to hang out :)

god, he wants to die.

to his surprise, you don’t immediately block him, and you reply to his message, telling him that you’d love to, and notifying him of when you were free. after agreeing on a date, three days after he’d texted you, he spends the entirety of those days stressing over every minuscule detail. he crosses off atsumu and suna from the list of people he should go to for advice, and asks the one person he would trust with his life if it really came down to it. luckily, that same person happened to be good acquaintances with you as well.

“something simple,” kita had advised. “don’t overwhelm them. find something you both have in common and make it an activity.”

and it’s how he found himself kicking his family out of the house the day you were meant to hang out, asking them to stay away until at least eleven at night, with all of the cooking utensils and ingredients placed on the counter, ready for use. and although it had seemed like a really creative, fun idea at the start, even gaining solid approval from kita, and his mother, as the minutes tick by to the decided time, he regrets it more and more.

it’s cheesy, and so lame. besides, you spent majority of your time cooking; what would make today different? it’d probably too tiring for you, more of a chore. you were going to be absolutely miserable weren’t you?

three polite knocks sound at the front door, and osamu breathes steadily.

no backing out now.

the moment he sees you, the world around him settles, and so does his heart. he’d assumed it would be more frightening, finally seeing you at his front door, signifying the reality of it all. but it’s the least terrified he’s ever been. if anything, he’s at his calmest. the smile that rises to his lips is genuine, and soft, and kind, and he greets you with a breathless, “hey,” moving aside to welcome you into his home.

“so, are you finally telling me what we’re going to do?” you tease, putting aside your belongings, and following him as he leads the way into the kitchen.

nervously, he outstretches his arms to display the kitchen, and everything it contains and is presented on its counters. “well, i figured we might make something together, have dinner after, and all,” he says, trailing off slightly, a hand coming up to anxiously scratch at his undercut.

amazingly, you smile excitedly, leaning closer him and placing your hands on his arms. “that sounds so fun, ‘samu! can you tell me where the bathroom is so i can wash my hands?”

he watches, astounded as you look up at him in awe, before he leads the way, directing you to the bathroom. and when you return, it’s with as much enthusiasm as earlier. the utensils are picked up, ingredients filtered through as you decide on a meal. it isn’t noisy and suffocating with you in the kitchen with him, the same way it is whenever he’s making himself dinner and atsumu intrudes, or his mother decides it’s the optimal time to bake a cake. it’s serene, and it feels natural, the way you flow together, the way you split the work evenly, the way everything about this is fun.

as the food sits and cooks, osamu stares. at you, as you walk around the kitchen, familiarizing yourself with it, looking like you were right where you were meant to be. you find plates, you find chopsticks, you find glasses. with every step you take, his heart pinches in his chest, and he’s thrown back in time to the day in the park, can feel the ice cream in his grip, the annoyance brimming through him at atsumu’s pestering.

“ya ever been in love, ‘samu?”

maybe love is too much of a strong word right now, but as his eyes remain fixated on you, he figures it’s not an impossible notion to assume. and when his heart sinks to his stomach, as he grabs at your wrist, urging you to free your hands, he kisses you, his hands gripping your forearms, pulling you closer to him. you taste like cherry — you taste so sweet. he loves it, loves it all, wants more of it. he relishes in the feel of your hands gripping at his shirt by his waist, arms twisting to wrap around him, in the feel of you kissing him back, kissing him deeper, as the food cooks to your side. it feels a little too surreal, to be kissing you in his kitchen like this, with not too many months having passed since he’d first seen you. but it makes sense. nothing’s ever made this much sense, and nothing’s ever felt this right before.

“’cause i think ya have.”

end note; please don’t flop please don’t flop please don’t flop </3

i hope everyone enjoyed reading that i luv u all mwah <3

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff #miya osamu x reader #osamu x reader #miya osamu fluff #osamu fluff #suna #atsumu

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hizashis-lil-bunbun · 4 years ago

Text

BNHA Valentine’s Day Headcanons!

Happy first day of February! Some of my Discord friends and I were brainstorming how different My Hero characters would celebrate Valentine’s Day. So let’s give ‘em a whirl! All characters are adults or aged up to be 18+ in these scenarios.

Big thanks to @varnienne, @emmappelle, @sweet-darling91, @donica95, and @katsontherun for letting me bounce ideas off of them. 💖

⚠️MOSTLY FLUFF BUT THERE IS SOME NSFW AHEAD!⚠️

Hizashi Yamada (Present Mic)

SFW

Gotta start with my blonde bby. And the best way I can describe his ideal Valentine’s is BIG and LOUD!

He’s never been one shy away from telling you how he feels, but he’s especially talkative on V-Day. Going on and on about how lucky he is, how much he loves you, etc.

It’s love songs all day, baby! From blasting modern pop songs while he makes breakfast to sweet, old-fashioned tunes that he makes you slow dance with him to in the living room. He’s a true romantic (and a surprisingly good dancer to boot).

And he might even (re: definitely will) serenade you. The man is a musician after all! In fact, don’t be surprised if Hizashi wrote a song just for you.

As far as gifts go, Hizashi goes all out. He’s a hero and a celebrity, with the salaries to match. So you can expect a few big ticket items. Plus, he’s a good listener. If you ever mentioned something you needed/wanted/expressed interest in, chances are it will arrive wrapped up in red and pink paper on the day.

“Hey little listener! Remember how ya said you might wanna try painting? No? Well I turned the spare room into a studio for ya anyways! Maybe you can make me something to hang up at the station, yeah?”

But just because his gifts are expensive and flashy, that doesn’t mean he devalues your own. Hizashi will blubber and gush over anything you give him, from lavish luxuries to a something as simple as a homemade card. Loudly I might add. Make sure to have earplugs handy.

Unfortunately, one of the drawbacks of having a radio star as your partner is that he’ll most likely have to work on Valentine’s Day. It’s even worse if he had teach that day as well. So don’t count on any fancy dinners until after the 14th.

But if you tune into his station on the day (and you will), there will be at least three or four songs dedicated to “his favorite little listener.”

NSFW

Even if he can’t be with you on the actual night, he’s definitely going to make up for lost time. Mood music, candlelight, the whole nine yards. He wants to romance you. To make you feel as good as you make him feel everyday.

Oral and overstimulation are the name of the game, and Hizashi is a giver through and through. He’s happy as a clam once he’s got his face buried between your legs, making you cum for the umpteenth time that night. Seriously, does he ever come up for air?

Praise is also a big thing for him. It flows from his mouth like the sweetest wine. And with his quirk, every whispered word and groan against your body feels just as intoxicating. Good vibrations indeed.

He also loves it when you’re vocal. No love song can compete with the way you cry and moan under his touch. He’ll make you sing for him all night long and into the morning hours.

“Damn, baby. I love you so damn much. Love the way you look cumming on my tongue. Think you can do it again?”

Eijiro Kirishima

SFW

Okay. This boy adores Valentine’s Day! Like it’s his favorite holiday.

And how can he not? Everything in the stores is red! He can stock up on red merchandise for the rest of the year in the span of a week. And believe me, he does.

This means his partner should expect a lot of the cliché gifts on the big day: teddy bears, heart-shaped boxes, and red roses to name a few. Oh, and he’s definitely got a stockpile of cheesy, punny Valentine cards centered around his and his friend’s hero personas.

His favorite is the one that says “I think you’re a Red Riot! Be my Valentine?” But maybe that’s partially because it came from you.

Kirishima doesn’t just shower you with crimson trinkets; he buys treats for everyone! Especially his closest friends. To him, Valentine’s is all about showing the people he loves most just how much he cares. And it’s honestly adorable to see him practically bouncing off the walls in excitement when he finds a little red treasure for this year’s celebration.

“Babe! Look at that red shark plushie. It looks just like me! So manly!”

*proceeds to buy seven of them: one for him, one for you, and one for everyone in the Bakusquad + Tetsutetsu*

But at the end of the day, once all the chocolates and stuffed animals have been given away, he’ll make sure you know there’s no one he loves more than you. He spends the final hours alone with you, eating a home cooked meal and cuddling on the couch. Times like these are his favorite, just being to hold you close and appreciate your presence in his life.

Fair warning though. You’ll probably end up watching some some cheesy romcom, cuz he loves those too.

NSFW

Of course, the red theme continues in the bedroom: red rose petals, red sheets, even a set of red lingerie he bought just for the occasion. Which he proceeds to rip apart minutes after you’ve gotten them on. Hope they weren’t too expensive.

Kirishima tries to be gentle with you, he really does. Savoring your pleasure and letting your orgasms crest and fall naturally. He wants to see you cooing and boneless by the end of the night.

But sometimes he underestimates his own strength and gets a little rougher than expected. Maybe he gives too sharp of a love bite, or squeezes your hips a little too hard. But it’s all done out of passionate love, so you don’t mind too much.

You might actually prefer it if he gets a little rougher.

However, if you wanna get kinky, there is one thing Kiri’s always down for: pulling you over his knee for a good, old-fashioned spanking. His quirk is perfect for it, hardening the palm of his hand just before it smacks down on the soft flesh. It’s like he has a set of built-in paddles. Trust me, if you let him get into a good rhythm, by the end of the night your ass will match the Valentine’s decor perfectly.

“Not pushing you too hard am I, beautiful? I know I can be unbreakable sometimes, but I never want to break you. I love you too much to do that.”

Mirio Togata

SFW

TBH, before he met you, Mirio was a bit of a player (which is kinda canon). Like “has a different date every year” player.

And can you blame him? He’s a total heartbreaker with that (le)million dollar smile and those baby blue eyes. He got so much Valentine’s chocolate from girls in high school, it was sickening! But with you, things are different.

For starters, he’s not so big on material gifts. Giving or receiving.

“How could I want anything more when I’ve got my sunshine right here?”

No, this sweet himbo is all about making memories with his partner! Sharing experiences and spending as much quality time together as possible.

So he plans everything days, sometimes weeks, in advance. Budgeting his time and money to squeeze as much love into a single day as humanly possible.

The moment you wake up on February 14th, he hits the ground running. Quite literally! He’s practically doing laps around your bedroom in his excitement to get the day started.

Valentine’s Day with Mirio turns out to be a marathon of couple activities. Bike riding to a local café for breakfast. Sight-seeing in Tokyo followed by ice cream in the afternoon. He even manages to sniff out a carnival for you to go to in the evening, letting you run amok on the rides and games. And yes, he definitely spends too much money trying to win you one of those giant stuffed animals.

By the end of the day, you’re thoroughly spent and just want to snuggle up next to him. And maybe have a late night snack of chocolate. Mirio is more than happy to indulge you, even offering to carry you home. Anything to be close to his precious sunshine.

NSFW

Despite your sleepiness and aching feet, Mirio insists he has one last surprise to give you. So he asks you to lay face-down on the bed and wait for him. Naked of course.

Once he finds what he’s looking for, he straddles your tailbone with his thighs and squirts something slippery onto your back. You yelp at the cold sensation and that earns a laugh from Mirio. He tells you it’s massage oil. One specifically designed to relieve muscle tension.

It’s like he knew you’d be sore after his day of non-stop adventuring. Almost like he planned it... What a smooth criminal.

It makes sense though. Maybe it’s because his quirk requires him to pass through things, but physical touch is his primary love language. Nothing grounds him quite like having you in his arms, worshiping every inch of your body.

He works you over, kneading at the muscles in your back, hips, and legs with steady pressure and prescision. He even rubs your feet, making the earlier pains melt away into bliss.

You’re almost too sleepy and relaxed to realize one of his hands is creeping up your body until it’s too late. Next thing you know, he’s curling his fingers into you, amplifying the pleasure of the massage in a new way. Like I said, Mirio’s a smooth criminal when he wants to be.

“Feeling good, sunshine? Yeah, I’ll bet you are. You always look so cute like this... just makes me want to kiss you all over. Maybe I will! But I think you’re still a little tense right... here.”

#hizashi yamada #kirishima eijirou #mirio togata #bnha headcanons #valentines #present mic #red riot #lemillion #bnha smut #mha headcanons #mha smut

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gamer-logic · 3 years ago

Text

Since my state, Georgia, is having the annual Peaches to Beaches event which is two days of statewide yard sales, I thought it would be interesting to show how America, the states, and any other countries wanting to participate both 1p and 2p would be during this event. So here you go!

Georgia is happily selling fresh produce like boiled peanuts and Vidalia onions and peach-based deserts. Her homemade peach cobbler and ice cream are to die for!

Antonio (Spain) also sells many fresh tomatoes, olives, and other vegetables. He doesn't understand why no one wants his Olive Juice though.

Hawaii and Alaska make a killing selling lemonade at their stand with a free complimentary handmade flower crown with every purchase. While using their sheer cuteness to attract everyone including one of those sweet biker gangs. It's really surreal to see a huge gang of buff, tattooed, tough-looking guys in leather wearing flower crowns and drinking lemonade. Allen's also there to supervise and ward of creep. Also, to provide people more 'incentive' to buy their lemonade.

Texas breaks out the Texas BBQ and is in a Barbecuing turf war with Jett (Australia). They draw huge crowds for the five-alarm chili as well and hold a competition who can eat the most without burning out their tongues and/or passing out.

Florida sells some of the weirdest stuff you'll ever see. "Want a full-scale model of a gator made entirely out of bottle caps? Only ten bucks! Want a portrait of Florida Man painted with orange juice? 15 bucks!"

Nevada also tries to sell weird and sketchy stuff to scam everyone. "This piece is the genuine article folks! One napkin gently used by Elvis Presley himself! Just 500 bucks! Also, gets into a haggling war with Lars (Netherlands). Somewhere Alfred's dad instincts go off and he reminds himself to ground Nevada.

California, Oregon, and Washington collaborate and California sells anything vegan or made with avocadoes and the autographs of Hollywood stars, Oregon sells his old tye-dyed shirts and records, they also made him sell his old groovy hippy bus from the sixties he'd never got rid of no one knew they had. Oregon can be a bit of a hoarder, so they had to tie him to a chair and gag him because he wouldn't surrender the bus without a fight. Washington also tries to sell and drink cups of coffee, but in the hot Southern heat, this doesn't end well.

Louisiana sells anything Cajun-style from frog legs to fresh gumbo, to beignets. Also has a full collection of Mardi Gras masks and shrunken voodoo heads on sale for two bucks a pop.

Gilbert (Prussia) gets tricked by Nevada and gets a ton of stupid things he doesn't need. Ludwig (Germany) tries unsuccessfully to keep him on a metaphorical leash.

Ludwig always checks the quality of things he sees and buys dog toys and supplies for Blackie, Berlitz, and Astor. Later, he actually buys a kiddie leash for Gilbert.

All the while Lutz (2p! Germany) is asleep in a lawn chair with his hat on his face after drinking like six cold beers from this really good booth. All the while, Klaus (2p! Prussia) finds an antique Teutonic Knights flag from a vendor whose family was from Germany.

Vash (Switzerland) buys antique guns from Alabama and Roderich (Austria) also checks out some of Tennessee's guitars. He's horrified upon seeing Alabama's banjo and washboard.

Mathew (Canada) and Emma (Belgium) combine their powers and tag team to sell the best pancakes and waffles on earth with genuine Canadian maple syrup.

New York sells tons of baseball memorabilia and collectibles. Allen, trying to save his bad-boy image, tries to be discreet when buying some while taking Hawaii and Alaska around to get something with their lemonade money. James also gets some hockey memorabilia with Michigan and Minnesota who also got snow cones.

Alaska and Hawaii see a giant deluxe dollhouse but are almost in tears when they don't have enough money. But they end up getting it for free because no one can resist their weaponized puppy dog eyes. Also, no one can resist a growling Allen. Using the leftover money, they buy cute little rainbow umbrella hats for everyone and have Allen wear one who begrudgingly accepts it.

James, walking by with an armful hockey gear and flannel shirts, bursts out laughing when he sees this. In revenge, Allen forces him to wear one too and help him carry the dollhouse, much to Hawaii and Alaska's delight! "I said go my way puck head!" "No, it's my way, you vegan loving hoser!" A passing Francis (France)' is in stylish horror when they also make him and a nonchalant Luis (2p! France), holding a case of vintage wines, wear them too. Hawaii and Alaska go around giving umbrella hats to everyone including a sleeping Lutz they pass by.

Loving (Romano) practically has to supervise Feliciano (Italy) and keep him from buying anything too stupid on impulse or get scammed. They still end up with stacks upon stacks of cookbooks, kitchen wear, and a Mona Lisa made entirely out of Macaroni. They also get umbrella hats.

Flavio (2p! Romano) browses through clothing racks to get ideas for his vintage line. Also checks out the handmade fabrics like quilts. "Such craftsmanship! This pattern is so unique and chic! I simply must have it! What's your price Bella?" The nice old woman selling the quilt just smiles, "Oh just about five dollars young man." "Perfect!" Flavio hands the quilts off to Andreas (2p! Spain) who's practically buried underneath the fabric. Luciano (2p! Italy) facepalms while holding a new knife set in its case. "Oooh! Look at those adorable hats I just have to have one." Cue three more umbrella hats and a humiliated Luciano. "Just kill me now..."

Katyusha (Ukraine), Elizaveta (Hungary), Lillie (Liechtenstein), Natalya, (Belarus), Katya( 2p! Ukraine) and Anastasia (2p! Belarus), and Michelle (Seychelles) explore with armfuls of clothes, new ribbons, and a gun case for Switzerland (Lillie), cast iron frying pans (Elizaveta, watch out Prussia!), farm tools (Katyusha), Jewelry and unmentionables (Katya), dresses (Anastasia), an assortment of switchblades (Natalya), and one of those singing fish on a plague (Michelle). It's definitely an interesting group.

Kiku (Japan) and Kuro (2p! Japan) find a nerd booth selling comics, manga, and Japanese weapons like katanas. Kuro test swings a blade and tries to slice the table so hard it breaks the blade, "Hmmm, not sharp enough for me, got anything else?" He throws it on the pile of broken blades he's already tested. Kiku stockpiles on limited-edition manga and he and the vendor end up getting into a huge, heated by Kiku standards, debate on who's waifu is best. Further down, Alfred reads every Marvel/DC comic while keeping an ear out on every state's location. He checks on Texas via his glasses and notices he's beating Australia in the chili contest. "That's my boy!"

Wisconsin wearing a cheese head sells anything cheese-based. He's got cheddar, goat cheese, string cheese, cheese spray, gorgonzola, grilled cheese, cheese curds, Mac n' Cheese, cheese sculptures of all world monuments, you name it he's got it! He also starts a war with Iowa's corn dishes and Idaho's potato dishes. They eventually end up flinging cheese, potatoes, and corn after they start dissing each other's foods. "Take this cheese brain!" "Nice aim, I-da-ho!" "I told you not to call me that!" "I'm gonna go children of the corn on y'all's behinds!" Poor Nebraska is stuck in the middle.

Alfred (America) hears the commotion and using his parent radar, immediately knows who it is and reminds himself to ground Iowa, Wisconsin, and Idaho later along with Nevada who, though still grounded for sure, makes him feel a little proud of since he managed to out haggle Netherlands.

New Mexico and Arizona also sell Native American handicrafts along with things like dreamcatchers and giant inflatable aliens. While Delaware, being the boring stick in the mud that he is, walks by with a framed and complete U.S. quarter collection from a vendor.

Kansas sells out of every sunflower she had courtesy of Ivan (Russia). Ivan and her the team up to buy out every sunflower seed from here to kingdom come. Viktor (2p! Russia) buys all the vodka he can find and a new shovel while Xiao (2p! China) tries giving people tattoos for 10 bucks a pop.

He tries to convince Yao (China) to get a hello kitty one to match the giant plushie he's holding, with the encouragement of Leon (Hong Kong) and Yong Soo (South Korea) who all collectively agree he needs to quit being such a grandpa. They also like calling him an antique-like the items on sale. " Aiyah! I'm not that old, aru!" "Yeah, you are Sensei." "Don't deny it! Da Ze!" Respect your elders!" "Tattoos originated in Korea da ze!" He totally is that old.

Oliver (2p! England) holds a bake sale and has people lined up for blocks to get some. Arthur (England), after having his scones shut down after it poisoned some unlucky squirrels, fries selling authentic magical items like unicorn hair or pixie dust. Everyone thinks he's a little crazy but he did sell a good bit of old magic books he needed to get out of his house, after making sure no one could actually use them of course.

The Nordics also went perusing for antique and handmade furniture when Mathias (Denmark) spots two full sets of Viking costumes and tries to get Lukas (Norway) to try them on with him. Lukas wasn't amused.

Berwald (Sweden) and Tino (Finland) also find a great handmade table to get after inspecting the workmanship and a full Lego set for Peter (Sealand), now if only Mathias would stop squealing like a little kid at the full piece lego death star. Emil (Iceland) keeps thinking he's the mature one until he spots a mini top hat and cane for Mr. Puffin.

In the end, everyone ends up wearing umbrella hats courtesy of Hawaii and Alaska, loving all the strange things they bought or counting the profits they made. Alfred (America) is proud of his kids and visits everyone one of their stands. He ends up looking pretty funny with an umbrella hat (HW, AK), a washboard, (AL),a picture of Florida Man, (FL), a balloon alien (NM, AZ), a tye dye shirt (CA, WA, OR), hockey stick shaped glasses (MN, MI), a giant stack of comics with a replica Thor hammer and Captain America shield on his back, all in a shopping cart (NV), and a giant turkey leg in his hand (Tx). Unsurprisingly, it was a tie between Oliver, Texas, and Australia for who earned the most with their food. Georgia just smiled as this was another great year for her state and people!

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thewidowsghost · 3 years ago

Text

The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 5

(Y/n)'s POV

I have weird dreams full of barnyard animals. Most of them wanted to kill me. The rest wanted food.

I must've woken up several times, but what I hear and see makes no sense, so I just pass out again. I remember lying in a soft bed and spoon-fed something that tasted like (Favorite/Food), only it's like pudding. The girl with curly blond hair hovers over me, smirking as she scrapes drips off my chin with the spoon.

When she sees my eyes open, she asks, "What will happen at the summer solstice?"

"What?" I manage to croak.

She looks around, as is afraid someone would overhear. "What's going on? What was stolen? We've only got a few weeks!"

"I'm sorry," I slur, "I don't . . ."

Somebody knocks on the door, and the girl quickly fills my mouth with the pudding.

. . .

The next time I wake up, the girl is gone.

A husky blond dude, like a surfer, stands in the corner of the bedroom keeping watch over me. He has blue eyes - at least a dozen of them - on his cheeks, his forehead, the backs of his hands.

When I come around for good, there is nothing weird about my surroundings, except they are nicer than I am used to. I am sitting in a deck chair next to Percy - who was looking at me with concern - on a huge porch, gazing across a meadow at green hills in the distance. The breeze smells like strawberries. There is a blanket over my legs, a pillow behind my neck. All that is great, but my mouth feels like a scorpion had been using it for a nest. My tongue is dry and nasty and every one of my teeth hurt.

On the table next to me is a tall drink. It looks like iced apple juice, with a green straw and a paper parasol sticks through a maraschino cherry.

My hand is so weak I almost drop the glass once I get my fingers around it.

"Careful," says a voice.

Grover is leaning against the porch railing, looking as though he hadn't slept in a week. Under one arm, he cradles a shoebox. He is wearing blue jeans, Converse hi-tops, and a bright orange t-shirt that says CAMP HALF-BLOOD.

"You two saved my life," Grover says. "I...well, the least I could do...I went back to the hill. I thought you might want this."

Reverently, he places the shoebox in Percy's lap.

Inside is a black-and-white bull's horn, the base jagged from being broken off, the tip splattered with dried blood.

It hadn't been a nightmare. My mother was gone.

"The Minotaur," Percy asks.

"Um, Percy, it isn't a good idea -" Grover gets cut off.

"That's what they call him in the Greek myths, isn't it?" Percy demands. "The Minotaur. Half man, half bull."

Grover shifts uncomfortably. "You two have been out for two days. How much do you remember?"

"Mom," I say softly. "Is she really . . ."

Grover looks down.

I stare across the meadow. There is a grove of trees, a winding stream, acres of strawberries spread out under the blue sky. The valley is surrounded by rolling hills, and the tallest one, directly in front of us, is the one with the huge pine tree on top. Even that looks beautiful in the sunlight.

My mother is gone . . .

Nothing should look beautiful. The whole world should be black and cold.

"I'm sorry," Grover sniffs. "I'm a failure. I'm - I'm the worst satyr in the world." He groans, stomping his food so hard it comes off. I mean, the Converse hi-top comes off. The inside is filled with Styrofoam, except for a hoof-shaped hole. "Oh, Styx!" he mumbles.

Thunder rolls across the clear sky.

Mom had really had been squeezed into nothingness, dissolved into yellow light.

Percy and I are alone. Orphans. We would have to live with . . . Smelly Gabe? No. I'd live on the streets first.

Grover is still sniffling.

Percy says, "It wasn't your fault."

"Yes, it was. I was supposed to protect you."

"Did our mother ask you to protect me?"

"No. But that's my job. I'm a keeper. At least . . . I was."

"But why . . ." Percy begins and I suddenly feel dizzy, my vision swimming.

"Don't strain yourself," Grover says. "Here."

He helps me hold my glass and puts the straw to my lips.

I recoil at the taste because I was expecting apple juice. It isn't that at all. It's chocolate-chip cookies. Liquid cookies. But not just any cookies - Mom's homemade blue chocolate-chip cookies, buttery and hot, with the chips still melting. Drinking it, my whole body feels warm and good, full of energy. My grief doesn't go away, but I feel as if Mom had just brushed her hand lovingly against my cheek, given me a cookie the way she used to when I was upset and told me everything was going to be okay.

Before I know it, I'd drained the glass. I stare into it, sure I'd just had a warm drink, but the ice cubes hadn't even melted.

"Was it good?" Grover asks.

I nod.

"What did it taste like?"

"Chocolate-chip cookies," I reply and Percy looks at me knowingly. "Mom's. Homemade."

He takes the empty glass from me gingerly, as if it's dynamite, and sets it back on the table. "Come on. Chiron and Mr. D are waiting.

3rd Person POV

The porch wraps all the way around the farmhouse.

Percy's legs feel wobbly, trying to walk that far, and (Y/n), though her legs feel like Jello, had moved to support her brother. Grover offers to carry the Minotaur horn, but Percy holds onto it. I'd paid for that souvenir the hard way. I'm not going to let it go.

As the trio comes around the opposite end of the house, (Y/n) catches her breath.

Percy's POV

We must be on the north shore of Long Island because on this side of the house, the valley marches all the way up to the water, which glitters about a mile in the distance. Between here and there, I simply can't process everything I'm seeing. The landscape is dotted with buildings that look like ancient Greek architecture—an open-air pavilion, an amphitheater, a circular arena—except that they all look brand new, their white marble columns sparkling in the sun. In a nearby sandpit, a dozen high school–age kids and satyrs play volleyball. Canoes glide across a small lake. Kids in bright orange T-shirts like Grover's are chasing each other around a cluster of cabins nestled in the woods. Some shoot targets at an archery range. Others ride horses down a wooded trail, and, unless I'm hallucinating, some of their horses have wings.

Down at the end of the porch, two men sit across from each other at a card table. The blond-haired girl who'd spoonfed (Y/n) is leaning on the porch rail next to them.

The man facing me is small, but porky. He has a red nose, big watery eyes, and curly hair so black it's almost poker. He looks like those painting of baby angles - cherubs. He looks like a cherub who'd turned middle-aged in a trailer park. He is wearing a tiger-patterned Hawaiian shirt, and he would fit right in at one of Gabe's poker parties, except I get the feeling that this guy could out-gamble even my step-father.

"That's Mr. D," Grover mutters to me and (Y/n). "He's the camp director. Be polite. That girl, that's Annabeth Chase. She's just a camper, but she's been here longer than just about anybody. And you already know Chiron . . . "

He points at the guy whose back is to me.

First, I realize he's sitting in the wheelchair. Then I recognize the tweed jacket, the thinning brown hair, and the scraggly beard.

"Mr. Brunner!" I cry.

The Latin teacher turns and smiles at me, then looks curiously at (Y/n), who is still supporting some of my weight. His eyes have that mischievous glint they sometimes got in class when he pulls a pop quiz and made all the multiple choice answers B.

"Ah, good, Percy," he says. "Now we have four for pinochle."

He offers me a chair to the right of Mr. D, who looks at me, then (Y/n), who is leaning against my chair, with bloodshot eyes, and heaves a great sigh. "Oh, I suppose I must say it. Welcome to Camp Half-Blood. There. Now, don't expect me to the glad to see you."

"Percy, why don't you introduce me?" Mr. Burnner says, sending a soft smile towards (Y/n).

"Oh, this is my twin sister, (Y/n)," Percy says.

(Y/n)'s POV

I smile and wave shyly.

"It's nice to meet you, sir," I say. "Percy's told me a lot about you. Even said you were his favorite teacher."

A warmer smile spreads across Mr. Brunner's face and then he turns. "Annabeth?" Mr. Brunner calls to the blond girl.

She comes forward and Mr. Brunner introduces us. "This young lady nursed you back to health, (Y/n). Annabeth, my dear, why don't you go check on Percy and (Y/n)'s bunks? We'll be putting them in Cabin Eleven for now."

"Sure, Chiron," Annabeth replies.

She's probably about my age, maybe an inch or two taller, and a whole more athletic looking. With her deep tan and her curly blond hair, she is almost exactly when I think a stereotypical California girl would look like, except her eyes ruin the image. They are startling gray, like storm clouds; pretty, but intimidating, too, as if she's analyzing the best way to take me down in a fight.

She glances down at the Minotaur horn in Percy's hands then looks back up at me. She says, "You drool when you sleep." My cheeks take on a slight red tinge as she sprints off down the lawn, her blond hair flying behind her.

"So," Percy says, looking anxious to change the subject. "You, uh, work here, Mr. Brunner?"

"Not Mr. Brunner," not Mr. Brunner says. "I'm afraid that was a pseudonym. You may call me Chiron."

"Okay," Percy says, looking totally confused, then looking at the director. "And Mr. D . . . does that stand for something?"

Mr. D stops shuffling the cars. He looks at Percy like he'd just belched loudly. "Young man, names are powerful things. You don't just go around using them for no reason.

"Oh. Right. Sorry."

"I must say, Percy," Chiron - Brunner breaks in, "I'm glad to see you alive, and the chance to meet your sister. It's been a long time since I've made a house call to a potential camper. I'd hate to think I've wasted my time."

"House call?" I ask, interested.

"My year at Yancy Academy, to instruct Percy. We have satyrs at most schools, of course, keeping a lookout. But Grover alerted me as soon as he met him. He sensed he was something special, so I decided to come upstate. I convinced the other Latin teacher to...ah, take a leave of absence."

"You came to Yancy just to teach me?" Percy asks.

Chiron nods. "Honestly, I wasn't sure about you at first. We contacted your mother, let her know we were keeping an eye on you in case you were ready for Camp Half-Blood, and then we learned of Miss (Y/n), here." He nods to me. "But you still had so much to learn, Percy. Nevertheless, you made it here alive, and that's always the first test."

"Grover," Mr. D says impatiently, "are you playing or not?"

Percy's POV

"Yes, sir!" Grover trembles as he takes the fourth chair, though I didn't know why he should be so afraid of a pudgy little man in a tiger-print Hawaiian shirt.

"You do know how to play pinochle?" Mr. D eyes me suspiciously.

"I'm afraid not," I answer.

"I'm afraid not, sir," he corrects.

"Sir," I repeat, liking the camp director less and less.

"Well," he tells me, "it is, along with gladiator fighting and Pac-Man, one of the greatest games ever invented by humans. I would expect all civilized young men to know the rules"

"I'm sure the boy can learn," Chiron says.

"Please," I plead, "what is this place? What are we doing here? Mr. Brun— Chiron—why would you go to Yancy Academy just to teach me?"

Mr. D snorts. "I asked the same question."

The camp director deals the cards; Grover flinches every time one lands in his pile.

Chiron smiles at me sympathetically, the way he used to in Latin class, as if to let me know that no matter what my average was, I was his star student. He expected me to have the right answer.

"Percy," Chiron prompts. "Did your mother tell you nothing?"

"She said . . ." (Y/n) begins and I remember her sad eyes, looking out over the sea. "She told us she was afraid to send us here, even though our father had wanted her to. She said that once we were here, we probably couldn't leave. She wanted to keep us close to her."

"Typical," Mr. D says. "That's how they usually get killed. Young man, are you bidding or not?"

"What?" I ask.

He explains, impatiently, how you bid in pinochle, and so I did.

"I'm afraid there's too much to tell," Chiron says. "I'm afraid our usual orientation film won't be sufficient.

"Orientation film?" (Y/n) asks, quirking an eyebrow.

"No," Chiron decides. "Well, Percy, (Y/n). You know your friend Grover is a satyr. You know -" he points to the horn in the shoebox - "that you have killed the Minotaur. No small feat, either. What you may not know is that the great powers are at work. Gods - the forces you call the Greek gods - are very much alive."

I stare at the others around the table.

I wait for somebody to yell, Not! but all I get is Mr. D yelling, "Oh, a royal marriage. Trick! Trick!" He cackles as he tallies up his points.

"Mr. D," Grover asks timidly, "if you're not going to eat it, could I have your Diet Coke can?"

"Eh? Oh, all right."

Grover bites a huge shard out of the empty aluminum can and chews it.

"Wait," I tell Chiron as (Y/n) sits down on the edge of my chair. "You're telling me there's such a thing as God."

"Well, now," Chiron says. "God—capital G, God. That's a different matter altogether. We shan't deal with the metaphysical."

"Metaphysical? But you were just talking about—"

"Ah, gods, plural, as in, great beings that control the forces of nature and human endeavors: the immortal gods of Olympus. That's a smaller matter."

"Smaller?"

"Yes, quite. The gods we discussed in Latin class.

"Zeus," I say. "Hera. Apollo. You mean them."

And there it was again—distant thunder on a cloudless day.

"Young man," says Mr. D, "I would really be less casual about throwing those names around if I were you."

"But they're stories," I say. "They're—myths, to explain lightning and the seasons and stuff. They're what people believed before there was science."

"Science!" Mr. D scoff. "And tell me, Perseus Jackson"—I flinch when he says my real name, which I never told anybody—"what will people think of your 'science' two thousand years from now?" Mr. D continues. "Hmm? They will call it primitive mumbo jumbo. That's what. Oh, I love mortals—they have absolutely no sense of perspective. They think they've come so-o-o far. And have they, Chiron? Look at this boy and tell me."

"Percy," Chiron says, "you may choose to believe or not, but the fact is that immortal means immortal. Can you imagine that for a moment, never dying? Never fading? Existing, just as you are, for all time?"

"You mean, whether people believed in you or not," (Y/n) says.

"Exactly," Chiron agrees. "If you were a god, how would you like being called a myth, an old story to explain lightning? What if I told you Perseus and (Y/n) Jackson, that someday people would call you a myth, just created to explain how children can get over losing their mothers."

My heart pounds. He's trying to make me angry for some reason, but I wasn't going to let him. I say, "I wouldn't like it. But I don't believe in gods."

"Oh, you'd better," Mr. D murmurs. "Before one of them incinerates you."

Grover pleads, "P-please, sir. He's just lost his mother. He's in shock."

"A lucky thing, too," Mr. D grumbles, playing a card. "Bad enough I'm confined to this miserable job, working with boys who don't even believe!" He waves his hand and a goblet appears on the table, as if the sunlight had bent, momentarily, and woven the air into glass. The goblet fills itself with red wine.

"You're Dionysus," (Y/n) says and Mr. D looks at her. "The god of wine."

Mr. D nods then stares at me as I say, "You're a god."

"Yes, child."

"A god. You."

He turns to look at me straight on, and I see a kind of purplish fire in his eyes, a hint that this whiny, plump little man is only showing me the tiniest bit of his true nature. I see visions of grapevines choking unbelievers to death, drunken warriors insane with battle lust, sailors screaming as their hands turn to flippers, their faces elongating into dolphin snouts. I know that if I push him, Mr. D would show me worse things. He would plant a disease in my brain that would leave me wearing a straitjacket in a rubber room for the rest of my life.

"Would you like to test me, child?" he says quietly.

"No. No, sir."

The fire dies a little; he turns back to his card game. "I believe I win."

"Not quite, Mr. D," Chiron says. He sets down a straight, tallies the points, and says, "The game goes to me."

I think Mr. D is going to vaporize Chiron right out of his wheelchair, but he just sighs through his nose, as if he were used to being beaten by the Latin teacher. He gets up, and Grover rises, too.

"I'm tired," Mr. D says. "I believe I'll take a nap before the sing-along tonight. But first, Grover, we need to talk, again, about your less-than-perfect performance on this assignment."

Grover's face beads with sweat. "Y-yes, sir."

Mr. D turned to me. "Cabin eleven, Percy Jackson. And mind your manners." He sweeps into the farmhouse, Grover following miserably.

"Will Grover be okay?" I ask Chiron.

Chiron nods, though he looks a little troubled. "Old Dionysus isn't really mad. He just hates his job. He's been . . . ah, grounded, I guess you would say, and he can't stand waiting another century before he's allowed to go back to Olympus."

"Mount Olympus," I say. "You're telling me there is really a palace there?"

"Well now, there's Mount Olympus in Greece. And then there's the home of the gods, the convergence point of their powers, which did indeed used to be on Mount Olympus. It's still called Mount Olympus, out of respect to the old ways, but the palace moves, Percy, just as the gods do."

"You mean the Greek gods are here? Like...in America?"

"The what?"

"Western civilization?" (Y/n) guesses and Chiron nods for her to continue. "It started in Greece, then spread to Rome, right?"

"That's correct, Miss (Y/n)," Chiron says.

"And then they died?" I ask, looking between my Latin teacher and my sister.

"Died? No. Did the West die? The gods simply moved, to Germany, to France, to Spain, for a while. Wherever the flame was brightest, the gods were there. They spent several centuries in England. All you need to do is look at the architecture. People do not forget the gods. Every place they've ruled, for the last three thousand years, you can see them in paintings, in statues, on the most important buildings. And yes, Percy, of course, they are now in your United States. Look at your symbol, the eagle of Zeus. Look at the statue of Prometheus in Rockefeller Center, the Greek facades of your government buildings in Washington. I defy you to find any American city where the Olympians are not prominently displayed in multiple places. Like it or not—and believe me, plenty of people weren't very fond of Rome, either —America is now the heart of the flame. It is the great power of the West. And so Olympus is here. And we are here."

"Who are you, Chiron? Who . . . who am I? Who . . . who are we?"

Chiron smiles. He shifts his weight as if he was going to get up out of his wheelchair, but I know that was impossible. He's paralyzed from the waist down.

"Who are you?" he muses. "Well, that's the question we all want answered, isn't it? But for now, we should get you a bunk in cabin eleven. There will be new friends to meet. And plenty of time for lessons tomorrow. Besides, there will be s'mores at the campfire tonight, and I simply adore chocolate."

And then he does rise from his wheelchair. But there's something odd about the way he did it. His blanket falls away from his legs, but the legs don't move. His waist keeps getting longer, rising above his belt. At first, I think he's was wearing very long, white velvet underwear, but as he keeps rising out of the chair, taller than any man, I realize that the velvet underwear wasn't underwear; it was the front of an animal, muscle and sinew under coarse white fur. And the wheelchair isn't a chair. It was some kind of container, an enormous box on wheels, and it must've been magic, because there's no way it could've held all of him. A leg comes out, long and knobby-kneed, with a huge polished hoof. Then another front leg, then hindquarters, and then the box was empty, nothing but a metal shell with a couple of fake human legs attached.

I stare at the horse who had just sprung from the wheelchair: a huge white stallion. But where its neck should be was the upper body of my Latin teacher, smoothly grafted to the horse's trunk.

"You're a centaur!" (Y/n) says in awe, and Chiron's eyes sparkle with amusement as he nods.

"What a relief," the centaur says. "I'd been cooped up in there so long, my fetlocks had fallen asleep. Now, come, Percy and (Y/n) Jackson. Let's meet the other campers."

Word Count: 3702 words

#percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert #fem reader #female reader #reader insert

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imaginesupply · 5 years ago

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Warm me up - Loki x Reader imagine

Alright, so after complaining that no one had yet written a Loki imagine that included cockwarming, I decided to write one myself. Be aware that it’s 2am in Paris, that I haven’t written anything in ages and that English is still not my main language, so please forgive any weird wordings or mistakes you might find in this. I did proofread it, but you know…

I also feel like I messed up Loki’s portrayal?

Includes: Jotun!Loki, mild cursing, mild smut, very minor angst, fluff and ugly pajamas.

Word count: About 2800.

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Waiting impatiently for the elevator to take her to the second highest floor, she clutched the pillow tighter to her chest, trying to stifle a yawn.

Tony had texted her as soon as they'd gotten back from some overly complex mission that wasn't even taking place in this realm - if she'd correctly understood while eavesdropping on the team, that is, given that Loki tried to keep her in the dark most of the time because apparently her life expectancy was already 'frighteningly short' and he refused to do anything that could potentially shorten it even more. There had also been a part about him wanting to get his hands on one of those 'incredibly sneaky Idunn apples’ but she wasn’t sure what that meant.

Maybe he could try learning how to text, that would certainly make her live longer and a lot more stress free, she mused.

Right now, she was just overly excited to see him again for the first time in eight days. Tony had told her Loki was exhausted and had gone straight to bed upon their arrival. She couldn't help but find it a little bit odd - usually he'd go straight to her room five floors below when he came back from a mission, but she tried not to worry too much.

The elevator came to a halt and she was hurrying to his room before the doors had even fully slid open. Her feet slipped on the polished floor, her socks not allowing for much grip but she was sure it was worth the risk of a bruised bum if it meant she'd get to Loki a few seconds earlier.

"Hey fluffy socks!" Tony called after her when she passed him in the kitchen. She had hoped he hadn't seen her since he was staring into the open fridge but apparently Iron Man had eyes on his butt or something.

For a split second, she considered ignoring him but he was her boss after all, and a very generous one at that, allowing her to live in the tower.

"Yes?"

Now that he had her attention, he first drowned his full tumbler of Scotch before actually speaking to her. Couldn't he just say what he had to say?

"Are you going to see Loki?"

She raised her eyebrows at him. Was he seriously asking her that?! Why else would she would she be running in the hallway at 2 in the morning in her pajamas?

"Right, stupid question, sorry. Look, we ran into some unforeseen complications and Loki, well..."

"Was he injured?" She blurted out instantly, eyes wide with fear but to her relief, Tony quickly shook his head.

"Not really. There are no wounds but he had to use a lot of that weird seidr of his to get us out of there and now he - he is... feverish?"

She could hear it in her boss' voice that he was unsure of his own choice of words. A fever? But Loki was an alien God or a Frost Giant or whatever, surely he couldn't get a fever?

"Okay. Thanks for the heads up!" She replied way more cheerfully than she actually felt, hoping Tony wouldn’t stop her if she looked okay.

It was with a sense of dread that she now walked the rest of the way to Loki's room. Once at his door, she was surprised he hadn't locked it and - wait! Was that ice on the handle?

Pushing the door open, she let her pillow fall to the floor as she was met with an unexpected wave of cold that immediately had her chilled to the bones. What the hell? Whispering for FRIDAY to turn on the small night lamp, she was startled by the state she found his room in, but most importantly by what she found on the bed.

Loki was lying in bed, covers drawn up to his chin, only he wasn't in his Æsir form. "Shit!" She cursed in a whisper, stepping on the thin layer of ice that had formed on the floor until she got to his side.

His skin was a deep shade of blue but for the white intricate markings adorning it. Something was very wrong with him, she realized. His Jotun form didn't bother her. To be honest, she actually found him rather attractive like that in a weird alien sort of way. However, she knew Loki wasn't comfortable with that aspect of himself and he'd never revert to his Jotun shape unless he didn't have the strength to keep on his Æsir appearance.

Softly, she lowered her hand to his cheek only to hiss in pain as soon as her skin made contact with his. The tip of her finger had turned purple in the split second it had made contact with him. She had almost gotten frostbite just from touching him!

In a panic-induced rush, she hurried over to the control center on the charcoal painted wall and turned the heat to the highest setting. She knew he was colder in his Jotun form, but not that cold. She had touched him like this before, but she had found his lower temperature refreshing, causing her nothing more than a pleasant shiver.

The next step was the en-suite bathroom where she dropped some rags into the hottest water that would come out from the tab, and put some towels to warm up by the heater.

Humans were warm blooded but you had to cool them down when they had a fever. So, by analogy, Frost Giants being cold blooded, she had to warm him up, right?

In truth, she wasn't entirely convinced of her logic but it was the only solution she came up with. Quickly, she walked back into the bedroom, bending down at his side to place some hot rags on his forehead and around his hands.

"Loki?" She whispered worriedly when he didn't open his eyes, but his face remained unchanged, the small frown not leaving his features.

Carefully, she pulled back the covers only to notice he had managed to freeze his clothes solid. Not waiting another moment, she started undressing him which was easier said than done because one, he was still wearing his battle gear; two, although his clothes weren't as cold as his skin, touching them was still painful like holding a frozen snowball in her naked hands and three, he was a lot heavier than you'd expect from his lean body.

With clenched teeth, she managed to get rid of the layers on the top half of his body until she was met with his naked blue torso before unzipping his leather pants and pulling them down with his underwear.

Oh - oh! Well, that's certainly interesting, she couldn't help but lose focus for a second as she saw his Jotun body naked for the first time. I'll definitely keep that in mind next time things are getting frisky and he isn't quite literally freezing to death in front of me. With another hard pull - that drove her backwards with such force, it was a wonder her butt didn't collide with the floor - she managed to get him out of the rest of his frozen clothes.Now, I know why he always uses seidr to undress. Leather is pain to take off!

"Love... is that you?"

Tears of relief slid down her face almost instantly at the sound of his voice. "Yes!" She pretty much shouted before tiptoeing around the bed until she was right at his side. "Yes , Loki, it's me. How do you-?"

"You need to leave," he grunted between clenched teeth, trying to pull himself upright by the strength of his arms but not quite succeeding. "Now!"

She could tell his was trying hard to keep his crimson eyes open as he glared at her, as if hoping it would scare her away.

"I'm not leaving until you feel better," she crooned softly, hesitantly lowering her hand to caress his cheek. It was still way too cold but there was no longer a risk of getting frostbite.

Without a warning, Loki tried swatting her hand away, but his hand movement was much less grateful than habitually. He was actually shivering, she realized.

Resigned after lacking the strength to pry her hand away by force, he closed his eyes tightly, his nostrils flaring as he took a deep breath. "I don't want you to see me like this. So, will you please leave alone or do I have to make you leave?"

He had meant to draw her away by hurting her feelings, but she could see right through him - masking vulnerability with anger. In a sense, he did manage to hurt her feelings as her heart now broke for him. Was he so unused to people actually caring and looking after him?

"If I leave, I'll have to send someone else in to take care of you. It's your call, Loki." His red eyes opened wide at her threat and he immediately shook his head. "See? That wasn't too hard. Now, one more time, how do you feel?"

Loki groaned, obviously uncomfortable by the whole situation. "To use your midgardian slang, I feel like I've been hit by a bus."

She rolled her eyes at him, something she never dared to do when he was in his normal capacity because the only time she had dared to, he had responded by using his seidr to tickle her to tears. "I'm serious."

"Fine! I feel as if my body has been frozen from the inside."

Now that Loki was actually cooperating, she felt like they were getting somewhere. First, she made him drink a full glass of water and asked him if he was hungry but he only rolled his eyes at that. He's still Loki, after all.

The towels she had put over the radiator were now warm enough to drape over his body. Not waiting for his approval because knowing him, he'd play difficult, she pulled back the covers once again so she could wrap the homemade heating pad around his body.

He stared at her, brows furrowed in confusion, as she lifted, first his right shoulder, then his left one, to tuck the towel beneath them. How was she not disgusted by him, he couldn't help but wonder. Not only was he weak right now, but he looked like those monsters children were afraid of. And yet, he couldn't help the sense of warmth that washed over him at knowing that she accepted him whatever his heritage. That was more than he could say about his own father.

She continued with her task, trying to build a warm cocoon around him but she couldn't help herself from tracing some of the intricate silvery markings with her fingertips. A few lines ran from his chest down to his stomach, others only started at the level of his belly button and had more a twirl to them, leading straight to his -

"Oh, someone is happy, it seems," she chuckled when she noticed his erection standing proudly despite the cold. It actually appeared to be a deeper shade of blue than the rest of him, with a slightly upward curve.

Instead of seeming pointlessly embarrassed by his body's natural reaction, especially given the lack of disgust she had expressed, Loki actually looked rather smug. "Well, someone's is being rather handsy."

She huffed, somehow feeling herself blush as she looked at him. "Well, someone has been trying to help someone else warm up."

"Well, someone knows of other ways you can help someone warm up." Loki used the second that it took her to get his innuendo, to take her by surprise and pull her closer him, until she was pretty much straddling his body.

And then he kissed her. A gasp escaped her as his cold lips made contact with the sensitive skin of hers. It was almost like kissing an ice cube... but an ice cube that tasted of Loki, of mischief, of home. Only when his tongue prodded for entrance, did she realize what they were doing.

Pulling back a little to break the kiss that had her lightly panting as she carefully pushed his shoulders down into the pillow, she was quite certain he let out a little frustrated whine. "We should not be doing this," she admonished them both before sitting back on her butt, accidentally causing some very pleasant friction that had the, both moaning at the sensation. She had to bite her lower lip to keep her resolve, "right now, you are in no state for such activities."

Instead of coming up with a lokiworthy line, she watched as his face took on a focused look before turning into a frown. Was he seriously trying to seidr her clothes away right now?

"That's exactly my point," she couldn't stop her giggle as she bent forward to kiss the tip of his nose. She had always wanted to that but he was too tall and always too fast, managing to turn his face away from her and kissing her cheek instead. A girl has to take the chances that presented themselves to her.

"But I want to be inside of you, to feel your tight warmth around me," Loki drawled, softly thrusting up his hips to prove his point.

She actually whimpered at the contact - needy Loki did things to her, it seemed. Wetting her lips before nodding once, she quickly stepped away from him.

Loki followed her movements with his eyes, the disappointed look in his eyes rapidly turning to excitement when he realized she had only stepped away to discard those ridiculous cat-print pajamas of hers. Despite the radiators being at their highest capacity, her nipples pebbled almost painfully as she resumed her position above him, the chill that emanated from his body still quite noticeable.

Both let out little sounds of pleasure as the friction was now stronger without any fabric acting as a barrier between their bodies. She couldn't help but to grind her hips against his before leaning down to kiss him.

There was a power surge suddenly rising up in her when she realized that - for the first time - Loki was at her mercy. Usually, when she was on top, it was because he let her be on top. And even then, it was him who set the pace.

From his reactions when she traced them with her fingers, she gathered that the silvery lines adorning his skin were particularly sensitive. They also stood out a little, almost like scarifications and the best was that they down there as well. Alright, let's not get ourselves carried away, her inner voice reminded her.

When she slid her hand between their bodies to guide himself inside her warmth, she had to stop herself from grinning at the look on his face - like a Frost Giant boy who had just spotted a bag of candies. If they had candy in Jotunheim, she actually didn't know.

Loki groaned, throwing his head back and exposing his long blue neck to her as she impaled herself on his cock. It was quite a stretch, even more so than in his Æsir form and she felt incredibly full with him inside, the ridges only adding to that sensation. Focus, girl!

At her stillness, Loki impatiently thrust his hips upwards but she was quick to press his body down against the mattress. He looked up at her, confusion written across his face even as his grip tightened on her hips. Surely, she wouldn't do that to him, would she?

She smirked at his reaction even though she wanted this wanted this as much as him. "You only asked to feel my warmth around you," she explained coyly.

His crimson turned a shade darker. "You are a very reasonable person, love, surely you cannot expect me -"

"Shh," she hushed him with her index finger to his lips. "If you are too weak to overpower me, you are too weak for sexy times. For now, I'm going to warm you up. Afterwards, you can do whatever you want with me," she promised just as she felt him twitch inside her. Focus!

Without waiting for his response, she lowered herself until the upper half of her body was lying over his torso and she was cuddled against him.

His muscles gradually relaxed as he came to the conclusion that he wouldn’t be able to convince her. Sighing, he nuzzled his nose into her hair. Gosh, she smelled of whatever Valhalla was made of! And if he was honest with himself, being like this was rather comforting, the ability of feeling her everywhere somehow making him forget that a whole world existed beyond the cocoon of her body.

"Fine," he complained a little theatrically, "but I'll hold you to your word."

Within minutes, both were soundly asleep. Not only was it the early hours of the morning, but he had exerted himself more during the mission than he wanted to admit and she never got much sleep when he was away.

Hours later, she found herself being woken up by a rhythmic rocking movement that she would gladly have compared to a calm boat ride if there was the biggest storm in the century and the boat was ramming into her.

With a gasp caused by sudden pleasure, she opened her eyes to find Loki thrusting into her with a mischievous smirk. "It seems your technique got me warmed up in no time, love."

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Let me know what you guys think!

#loki imagine #loki smut #loki x reader #loki x reader smut #loki fluff #loki odinson #loki marvel #tom hiddleston #tom hiddleston imagine #tom hiddleston smut #tom hiddleston x reader #tom hiddleston x reader smut

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honeytea8 · 4 years ago

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Virtue & Vice • Dio Brando/Reader

A/N: Discord prompt for the week was Masquerade AU, so I decided to write for Dio Brando, using @sammystep’s beautiful bedroom and mask renders as inspiration 😏 (seriously, they are amazing, so check them out at the end of the fic!!); Also written to be gender neutral, so please let me know if I messed up anywhere!

Word Count: 2.9K

Summary: With your estranged cousin in a town full of rumors and ghost stories, it’s rather obvious you’re in for an interesting weekend. Somehow, you catch the eye of an insatiable beast, and whether you manage to survive him is left completely up to you.

Warnings/Disclaimers: Subtle references to Stone Ocean, heavily implied sexual content, Dio monologuing lol

In every city you’ve visited, there was always talk, and by talk, you meant gossip. Grapevines grew from thin air, spreading until the town was entangled in a sickness you liked to call Hearsay. You had witnessed this far too many times in the past, the novelty having worn off a long time ago. But on occasion, you liked to lend an ear to the particularly interesting ones—stories that left you searching for that innocuous sliver of truth amidst fairy tale.

Most times, however, it was merely a drunk spewing his usual nonsense to any person willing to listen. You were rarely ever an audience to such. Still, nothing quite chilled your bones like the tale recounted by one of the strangest men you’ve ever met.

It had been late in the evening, but not too late that the barmaid was not still serving homemade pies and cold drinks to her patrons.

A man only a few years older than yourself was perched on a rickety wooden chair nearby; it gave a high-pitched squeak every time he shifted. He had been there upon your arrival and would likely be there after you were gone. His clothes were drenched in sweat, boots caked in mud. You noticed him observing you from under the brim of his ten-gallon hat, though the rest of his face remained hidden. The nearest available seat just so happened to be right by his own, you hesitated, but ultimately took it.

Your fingers were frozen like cubes of ice and you breathed on them in a fruitless attempt to help them thaw. The barmaid made her rounds and eventually came to you. Only then were you able to order something to warm you up, a simple cup of coffee would suffice. You sat silent and unassuming, content with minding your own business until a gruff voice reached out to you, almost as if his words grew an arm and gripped your shoulder.

“Yer face,” he muttered in your direction. “S’like someone I can trust.”

You blinked at him. The implications behind his words were not lost on you. In fact, it was something you heard quite often. For your own mother had delivered you into a cruel world, and was quick to brand you with a trademark that has followed you for as long as you could recall: an angel.

In return, people seemed to gravitate towards you—were always intrigued by you, listening and speaking to you, soothed by your very nature and presence. It was a gift, you supposed. And like any gift, you preferred to use it for good. Whether it be to share in another’s burdens, or to relieve them of it entirely.

“Is there something you would like to share?” you replied back.

He hummed, then took a long swig of his whiskey in preparation. “Yeah, somethin's kept me up fer days actually.”

“What has?”

“I used ‘ta butle for a lord here in this town—hmm, well ta be frank it was only for a lil’ while... was dismissed soon after.”

The man continued without giving any clear answer to your question, but you assumed a bit of patience would grant you the full story.

“I'm sorry about your job.” you said out of courtesy, but he waved you off.

“Don’t be. S’better this way.” he took another sip, draining the glass in one go and waved for another round. “You believe in heaven?”

“Heaven? Like… the place where good people go when they pass on...? I—I’m not too sure.”

“S’alright.” he smiled for the first time, wide lips stretching across his face handsomely. He looked rather boyish with his half dimple and cleft chin. His expression was almost endearing. You figured he might’ve been quite the charmer when sober. “Name’s Hol Horse, by the way.”

“Hol Horse, it's a pleasure to meet you.”

You introduced yourself as well, to which he tipped his hat in greeting. The whole exchange was rather odd, but you went along with it for the sake of your own budding curiosity.

Hol Horse cast a wary glance around the room. You too chanced a brief look, but not as thoroughly as your companion. Obviously, no one was listening. You smiled and silently encouraged him to surrender the burden laying heavy on his conscience.

Hol Horse gave you his story. Some parts he gave in detail—others he offered in threadbare comments, giving only the minimum for you to catch the gist. From what you could piece together, he had worked as a servant under a young lord in the countryside. It was a large estate left behind by a ‘Sir Joestar’ who had passed away many years ago due to illness. His only adopted son was left to inherit the fortune, along with several of the businesses in town. That was as far as Hol Horse knew, more surprisingly, he had never even laid eyes on his employer during his tenure. Any and every form of correspondence was made through the lord's right hand.

At one point, you were beginning to wonder what picture Hol Horse was trying to paint here. Why did any of this matter? Regardless, it was the earnest pull of his voice that kept you rooted to your seat. That, and the fact that he had seemed to grow even more...disturbed the longer he spoke. His brows were pinched while he thought, showing his great displeasure. You truly hoped, for his sake, that confessing whatever was killing him inside would finally put his heart at ease.

In a lowered tone, he revealed the true cause of his troubles. He had spotted a number of bloodied sheets being carted away from his lord’s sleeping quarters, men and women’s clothing torn to shreds and disposed of in an incinerator. Certain staff members with superhuman strengths and abilities. Phantoms, ghosts, demonic spirits. All culminated by the devastating amount of missing persons. These were some serious, and if you were honest, strange allegations.

“My apologies,” you interrupted, “but I’m not sure I follow.”

“I’m sayin’ that some crazy shit’s goin’ on in this town, and I wouldn’t feel too inclined ta stay if I were you.”

You pursed your lips, far too stunned for words.

“Heaven.” he uttered like a curse. There was a sudden quiver in his lips, that sent a chill racing down your spine. It wasn’t just about ‘heaven’. More specifically, Hol Horse was convinced there existed a way to call it forth.

The sheer ridiculousness of this statement seized your attention. The man was so obviously intoxicated, but spoke like these were irrefutable facts that he too struggled to come to terms with.

A heaven within the reach of mere mortals? Powers no man had any business wielding? It was absolutely ludicrous! But your gut, which had saved you countless times in the past, urged you to not cast this tale aside.

You wondered if this made you a fool.

You had only come to this town per invitation from a distant, older cousin. And while distant by blood, she was also distant to you in nearly every other aspect as well. You and your cousin, Gwess, scarcely saw one another due to a series of familial barriers. By all accounts, you should be wary of her, but she was also newly married now, and you supposed her only desire was to rekindle your long-neglected relationship.

Marriage, children, a home—it had a way of changing people. You were unsure if you could genuinely relate to her feelings, but you would not stop her from trying to rebuild something, even if that something had never truly existed in the first place.

For whatever reasons, your cousin had you set up in a hotel instead of her guest house. You didn’t take it personally, after all, it was her home to do with as she pleased. The hotel suite was lavish; far be it from you to complain.

Clean, white walls, with an intricate gold motif wallpaper, Persian carpeting, high thread-count sheets made from the whitest Egyptian cotton. At your bedside were red roses that added a bit of color and warmth to the room, and near the window was a mini-bar stocked with various alcoholic beverages should you choose to indulge.

Courtesy of Gwess, your outfit for the night’s festivities hung on the bathroom door, zipped up in a garment bag to keep it from either soiling or wrinkling. She had gifted it to you along with a mask for the masquerade ball, though, you felt a sudden trepidation bubbling in your stomach at what awaited you; like a premonition of something to come, it weighed on your chest, and you tried desperately to swallow it down.

Hol Horse’s words from the previous night continued to haunt you in broken fragments. He had warned you not to stick around but it wasn’t like you were staying much longer. Just one more night.

Still, you worried. With the sound of your heart thumping in your ears, you drew out the lace and chiffon clothing from the bag that had kept it hidden from you until now.

A feeling you could not explain washed over you at the sight of what Gwess brought for you to wear. It was white with wing-like patterns sewn down into the material just below the blades of your shoulders. You considered the meaning of this as you donned the outfit and fixed the mask over your face. Mockery perhaps? Who could say?

Gwess greeted you in the hotel lobby with open arms and a warm smile.

“Cousin!”

“Gwess.” You murmured with a nod and a small tilt of your lips. “You look well.”

She grinned, eyes crinkling, “Don’t I?” Gwess gave a twirl, showing off one of her newest purchases. A thinly strapped designer gown with silver embroideries and little birds stitched at the hem and sleeve. In her hands was an extravagant mask covered in jewels and... real life bird feathers. You assumed so, given the traces of blood still on them. Ever the beauty, your cousin was. Her husband, being a lawyer working under a prominent firm in town, made sure that his dearest Gwess wanted for nothing; inherently enabling her rather eccentric hobbies, like mutilating tiny animals and using their remains as accessories.

The venue was a large ballroom not too far from the hotel. It was beautifully decorated with crimson and gold ornaments and glittering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. The festivities were already in full swing. Peals of laughters, thundering music, flashing lights. It was increasingly overwhelming. The event was more of a bacchanal for the rich and wealthy, a hedonistic gathering for the town’s upper echelon. It was almost ceremonial.

To make matters worse, you lost sight of Gwess, or rather, she had ditched you for a group of familiar faces. So, you wandered about on your own. There were a startling amount of guests, it felt almost like eyes were on you at every moment. Bodies pushed on all sides of you as you struggled to make your way through to a less crowded area. The sick feeling in the pit of your stomach bred more fear and anxiety, until you felt the urge to vomit right then and there.

Escaping into the open balcony was your only form of solace, and perhaps you’d remain there for the rest of the evening. Though, how could you have known that in doing so, you would inevitably find yourself within the crosshairs of an apex predator.

By his third victim, Dio was beginning to think that none of his ‘esteemed’ guests had brought a worthy sacrifice. A sneer curled at his lips as he watched them from his seat above. They were like monkeys, dancing for his entertainment, but unfortunately, he was far from entertained. He lounged back in his seat with a deep sigh.

Dio Brando did not believe in chance or coincidence. He did not believe in a being beyond the proverbial curtain, pulling on strings and orchestrating the whims of humanity. But lately, he’d been feeling a bit of a premonition. Nothing alarming, just an inkling of something he couldn’t quite place. And even after speaking to Enrico at length—

Dio paused in his musing, having caught sight of something in his peripheral.

With purposed steps, he followed the instincts deep within him, a visceral tugging in his gut, until he was greeted with the sight of your back. Poised like a sharpened blade, clothed in white; you stood underneath the lantern’s glow, like an angel hand-delivered to his doorstep. Utterly enticing.

You turned, gazing over at him with a peculiar look in your eyes, like that of a cautious doe in the presence of a hunter. The mask you wore shielded the majority of your face, but you were not someone he recognized. The clothing you were wearing made him all the more interested in finding what lay beneath.

Even from this distance, he could see the light sheen of sweat on the back on your neck. The subtle quake in your shoulders was not hidden from him either, even the bob of your throat as you swallowed.

“Do you mind if I join you?” he finally asked.

You were not expecting the man to speak since he looked so dead set on staring at you. “I don’t mind at all.”

You shifted over a little, an unnecessary action, seeing as there was plenty of room for the both of you. The fresh air did well in calming you down. But the sudden appearance of this man and his wolfish gaze was putting you back on edge. In any other instance, his very aura would have sent you running for the hills, but for some reason, you couldn't even bring yourself to move.

“You aren't enjoying yourself,” he noted with a teasing smile. “Does that make me a terrible host?”

You fumbled for a minute, stuttering over your words while trying to find an appropriate answer that wouldn’t offend him too much.

“C-Certainly not. It’s, um, no fault of your own. These kinds of things never interested me in the first place.”

You tried to avoid looking him in the eye when you responded but that proved to be impossible. His eyes were such a beautiful shade of scarlet. You half-wondered if they even came in that color naturally. He licked his lips, and for a second you caught sight of a sharpened canine.

“One could say that I am looking for something. Why else would I throw such an affair?”

Curious, you angled yourself a bit closer to him.

“Do you believe in gravity, dear?” he brushed his knuckles against your cheek. “That might be the reason why I’ve found you. You feel it too, that innate pull that can’t be explained.” he drew you closer until you were chest to chest. “It’s why you can’t walk away even though you’re frightened. I think we were fated to meet each other here.”

A wind blew as he said those words, tussling his gold spun hair, as if nature itself were confirming his words.

“Don’t you believe in destiny? That our lives are fate’s ultimate composition; a song that plays from the moment we take our first breath until we breathe our last.”

He was standing so close, close enough that you could smell the hint of cinnamon in his cologne and... blood...on his breath. It was making you dizzy, but you were also surprised to find that you wanted him to kiss you. And once that thought was acknowledged, it blossomed into a heady desire that was slowly taking over your entire body. You wanted him, the monster behind the mask.

“What say you, dear? Are you still frightened by me?” he laughed. “Don’t be. You and I are the same.”

“I’m...not afraid.” you said and placed a hand on his chest. It pleased him to hear you say it, even if your body betrayed your words. He leaned forward with one arm wrapped around your waist and gave a long, languid lick to a stripe of your skin, your perspiration was no deterrent at all, in fact he rather enjoyed it. Being this close to you gave him a vision of depthless oceans behind his eyelids with the taste of saltwater on his tongue and algae under his feet.

It was cathartic.

Indeed there were cleaner ways to do this, but he liked the pulse of your jugular beneath his tongue. He let his fangs sink into the flesh of your neck, puncturing your skin all the way through. Your fingers gripped his clothes, but not out of pain. The immense pleasure washing over you felt unlike anything you could ever imagine. Puffs of your warm breath coasted against the shell of his ear. You were far past the point of return.

In the final act, you laid naked in your hotel bed underneath blood speckled sheets. Your neck was throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the pleasant soreness between your thighs.

Dio, the name of your new god, hovered over you bare as the day he was born with an arrogant smile on his lips. Your wrists were bound with the strips of cloth torn from your body. You couldn’t reach him but your gaze still roamed the hills and valleys of his muscled chest in an act of worship and devotion.

An angel, they had called you. But what was angel without a fall from grace? It seemed in order to know virtue, one must first acquaint themselves with vice.

#JJBA #jojo’s bizarre adventure #Dio Brando #Dio x Reader #Dio Brando x Reader #Masquerade AU #jojo #Dio #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #3D Renders

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luvidzy · 4 years ago

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muses | x.mh

☆ tct summer collection masterlist

☆ genre: fluff

☆ pairing: xu minghao x reader

☆ summary: while spending your summer in a small town where your grandma lives, you meet another artist and photographer named minghao

☆ word count: 5.5k

Crystal blue waves lapped onto the golden shore, nearly drenching your toes in the water. You stared out at the large lake that your grandmother’s home town resided beside. Despite the fact that you had come here basically every summer since you were born, you never got tired of the lake. The ever-flowing motion of its waters, the endless squawks from seagulls flying overhead, and most importantly the people that surrounded the lake.

You smiled as you took out your phone, eager to take a picture that you could use as a reference for a painting or mural later. But for right now, you were plenty content roaming the familiar streets, letting the inspiration and sunlight soak in.

You found yourself walking to the local ice cream parlor, a cute little restaurant that had been around since the 60s. You walked in, letting the AC cool you down as you made your way to the counter.

“Y/N! Hello darling, what can I get you?” Mr. Han, the man that ran the parlor, smiled at you as you walked up. Mr. Han had run this shop since you could remember, always eager to serve you whatever ice cream you desired as a child.

“Hi, Mr. Han. The usual, if you don’t mind,” you replied, handing him the exact amount of money. You had ordered this treat so many times that you knew exactly the cost. Mr. Han smiled before moving behind the counter to prepare your usual ice cream order. Once the ice cream treat was safely in your hands, you waved Mr. Han goodbye before stepping out and heading to the pier.

Not many people frequented the pier, mostly fishermen or couples who just wanted to sit. You liked to come here to sketch and take photos, but also to just relax. It was a quiet place for you to think, uninterrupted except for your own thoughts. You made your way to the pier, ice cream already gone, but stopped when you noticed something, or someone, unusual.

Your grandma’s home town was small, so over the years you had been here you had met and were acquainted with all of the residents. Your grandma hadn’t mentioned any new people moving in, so your curiosity was piqued when you noticed an unfamiliar boy sitting at the edge of the pier, where you usually sat when you visited. As you moved closer, you noticed that the boy was holding a camera and was looking down at what you assumed to be a photo he just took.

“That’s a pretty photo,” you commented, leaning down slightly. The boy jumped ever so slightly, pressing his camera to his chest as you turned to face you. You were stunned at how attractive this new boy was. His skin was smooth, and he wore round glasses that made his sparkling eyes even bigger. His hair framed his face and he somehow managed to look both innocent and mature at once. You smiled at you straightened up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I just haven’t seen you around before. Mind if I sit?” you asked. The boy gave a curt nod, scooching over slightly so you could plop down beside him, your feet dangling over the lake.

“Anyway, that was a beautiful photo. This is one of the prettiest spots to take them, in my opinion,” you said, staring out at the lake. From the pier, you could see the sun hit the water, causing it to shimmer with its every move.

“Thank you. I just stumbled upon this place, but it’s gorgeous,” the boy finally spoke. You hummed in agreement before turning to him and placing your hand out.

“My name is Y/N,” you said. The boy smiled, reaching one hand out to shake yours. His handshake was firm, but his hands were warm and soft.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. My name is Minghao,” he said. You smiled. A cute name for a cute face.

“Hope I’m not intruding by asking, but do you live around here? You said I was unfamiliar,” Minghao asked. You smiled.

“Only in the summers. My grandma lives here, and I’ve been coming to spend summer with her since I was a baby. I know pretty much everyone in this town, but you looked new,” Minghao nodded.

“I see. Well, I’m just here for the summer as well. I go to college in the city, a couple of hours from here, and some of my friends thought it would be fun to go somewhere new over the summer for ‘inspiration’.” You giggled at his air quotes.

“Well, you chose the right town. This place has never let me down on the creativity and inspiration front. It may be small, but this place is overflowing with character,” you chirped, smiling warmly. You began to ramble on about your favorite areas of the town, from the ice cream parlor to the campgrounds, to the trolley service, to the hidden waterfalls in the forest.

You were so busy rambling that you didn’t notice how Minghao was staring at you, eyes glossy as you took in your features. He may have just met you, but you were already captivating him. From the way you flung your arms around wildly to emphasize your feelings, to the way you would laugh when remembering a funny memory at a certain place, it felt like it was impossible for Minghao to take his eyes off of you. He didn’t even hear when you stopped talking and turned to him, waiting for an answer.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that last bit,” Minghao said, blinking a couple of times to bring himself back to reality. You smiled, rolling your eyes playfully.

“I asked if you wanted me to show you around tomorrow? I can show you some great places to take photos if you want,” you offered. Minghao nodded almost instantly.

“That sounds wonderful. Can I bring my friends along?” he asked, almost regretting the question the minute it escaped his mouth.

“Of course, the more the merrier. We can meet at my grandma’s house. Here, give me your phone.” Minghao was quick to relinquish his phone to you, watching as you typed in your contact name and number.

“Text me and I’ll give you the address and the time,” you stated before standing up.

“I should get back home, it’s my night to make dinner. I’ll see you tomorrow, Hao!” you exclaimed, smiling as you waved before rushing down the pier and out of sight. Minghao watched you leave, smiling to himself, and then proceeded to look back out to the lake, camera ready to take more pictures.

The next afternoon, you said goodbye to your grandma as you locked the door behind you. Minghao and his friends weren’t there yet, but you didn’t mind. You took this moment as an opportunity to take in the fresh air, the smell of the lake wafting from a distance away.

“Y/N!” You turned towards the voice, smiling when you saw Minghao and a few new faces walking towards you.

“Hey, guys!” You exclaimed, waving at them. The group of boys stopped in front of you, all smiling at you warmly.

“These are my friends, Jun, Vernon, Chan, and Seungkwan.” He said, pointing to each boy as they were introduced. You waved to each of them, before introducing yourself.

“You guys ready to start your tour?” you asked. The boys nodded eagerly, prompting you to begin to walk down the sidewalk and towards the town. You made small talk with the boys, telling them little stories about your childhood summers spent in the town. Within a couple of minutes, you were standing in front of your first destination.

“Welcome to younger Y/N’s favorite spot: the candy store.” You smiled, opening the door. The candy shop was old fashioned in almost every way. The walls were painted a pastel pink color with cream accents and lined high with jars of different candies, along with center tables that also housed different candies and bags for holding the candies. A little bell rang as you stepped in, alerting Mrs. Dalton of your presence.

“Y/N! Lovely to see you dear!” Mrs. Dalton greeted from behind the counter. You gave her a soft smile and a wave before looking to the boys.

“Feel free to look around and buy anything you like. Some of the candies are common candy like the Reeses, but stuff like the salt-water taffy is all handmade by the Daltons!” you explained, gesturing to different things. The boys were instantly drawn to the candies, and you smiled as you watched them walk around, Minghao with his camera out and ready. You walked up to the counter and smiled at Mrs. Dalton.

“Do you have any of those homemade lollipops?” You asked. Mrs. Dalton gave you a sly smirk, before pulling a blue and white swirled lollipop out of a jar from behind the counter.

“Mr. Dalton made the blue ones just for you, dear.” You melted at the kindness of the older couple before handing Mrs. Dalton 5 dollars.

“Keep the change, Mrs. Dalton. And tell your husband thank you,” you said. The older woman smiled, and you turned your attention back to the boys, licking your lollipop. They were walking around, picking up and examining different sweets. You made eye contact with Minghao as he picked up a saltwater taffy, giving you a warm smile as he placed it in his bag.

After the boys bought some sweets, you exited the candy shop before heading to your next destination. Even though you had been there the day before, you still loved the ice cream parlor more than anything. You knew the minute you offered to show Minghao and his friends around that you needed to bring them to Han’s. Entering in for the second time that week, you smiled at Mr. Han.

“I’m back!” You joked, causing the man to laugh.

“This certainly is a very welcome and pleasant surprise. Can I get you the usual?”

“Sure. I’m gonna pay for these guys too.” You said, motioning to the 5 boys behind you. After giving their orders and paying, you got your ice cream and went to sit in one of the booths.

“This place is adorable,” Seungkwan commented, staring at the decor of the ice cream parlor as he ate his ice cream. You nodded, taking a bite of your treat.

“This decor is the original decor from the 60s. My grandma said it has hardly changed since it was made.” You explained. Minghao had his camera out, taking different photos. That was when your attention was drawn to one of your favorite things.

“Jun, do you have a quarter?” you asked. Jun nodded, fishing the coin out of his pocket. With a bounce in your step, you made your way to the old fashioned jukebox that the parlor had. After depositing the change and selecting Island In the Sun by Weezer, you began to bop to the song, soon dragging Jun and Chan out to dance with you. The two laughed as you began to twist around, dragging them along with your dance moves. When the song finished, you laughed and smiled going back to the booth, unaware of Minghao’s fond gaze on you as you slid back into the booth next to him.

With your ice cream finished, you guys headed out again, this time to a nearby trolly station. Walking into the small building, you greeted the worker with a smile, before asking for 6 tickets that would take you guys to the campgrounds. With a smile and a wave, you led the guys outside to where one of the trolleys was parked on the street waiting.

“Heya John! Is it just us?” you asked, boarding the red vehicle. John nodded, giving you a big grin.

“Yep! Just you guys,” John said. You sat down, the boys following suit before the trolley began its journey to the campgrounds. They weren’t too far away, but the trolly took the scenic route. This allowed you to point things out, sticking your hand out the window and pointing at different things here and there. It also gave Minghao an opportunity to take more photos. Fifteen minutes later you were in the forest, with the campgrounds sign in view.

“Thank you!” you called as John drove away, before leading the boys into the campgrounds and to a trail.

“I saved my favorite place for last,” you said, eyes sparkling as you led them farther from the campsite. After a bit of walking, you made a sharp turn into a small hidden lake in the forest, complete with a rushing waterfall.

“Damn, this is beautiful!” Vernon said, mouth slightly agape. You nodded before you set your small backpack down. With a swift movement, you took off your top to reveal a swimsuit underneath, before jumping into the lake.

When you emerged from the surface, you smiled at the guys and waved.

“Come on, the water’s great!” you exclaimed, splashing around a little bit. With no need for further coaxing, the boys set their stuff down and jumped in. Minghao waited a bit, using his camera to take photos of the scenery. You swam over to where he stood on the shore, pouting up at him.

“Come on, Hao. Before I have to pull you in,” you joked, splashing his legs a bit. Minghao smiled at you.

“Alright, alright. I’m coming.” You cheered as Minghao put the camera down before jumping in right next to you, splashing you completely. You rubbed your eyes as Minghao laughed.

“Oh, you are so on, Hao.” You and Hao laughed together as you splashed one another. Soon the other boys joined in, leaving you at the mercy of the 5 new boys that you had grown fond of in just a day.

After drying off, your group made its way back to town. You made your way back to your house, smiling at the group of boys.

“And that was my tour of the town. What did you think?” you asked, walking backward down the street. The boys smiled, raving on about their favorite parts of the town. Minghao smiled at you as you laughed at the boy's excitement.

“You weren’t kidding when you said this town never failed in the inspiration department. Thanks for showing us around,” Minghao said with a sincere expression. You flushed ever so slightly before nodding to him lightly.

“Anytime. I hope we can meet up again and hang out? I have an endless list of things we can do if you ever get bored,” you said. Minghao smiled.

“I’d like that.” Before you knew it, you were at the front door of your grandma’s house. Waving goodbye to the boys, you entered your house, letting out a breath as you felt your heart race. Shaking your head, you pushed the thoughts of Minghao and his smile out of your head.

When Minghao got back to the small cottage that they were staying in, he laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. For some reason, he couldn’t get you out of his head. His heart was flipping slightly, and the thought of your laugh and smile made him smile a little bit. It was a weird feeling for him. He hadn’t felt this way before. Forcing the thoughts out of his head, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.

The next day he decided to go off alone. He loved his friends, but he wanted to find someplace quiet where he could sketch with his earbuds in and not be disturbed. After walking around the town for a bit, he found a park. Considering it was early, there weren’t any kids around. Spotting the swings, he walked over and sat down, letting his feet stabilize him. Pulling out his sketchbook and headphones, he looked up for something to draw.

The park had a surprisingly good view, with a few trees blocking the large lake in the distance. It was beautiful, and Minghao began sketching, letting his music flood his ears.

You had woken up earlier than usual with the feeling and need to get out of the house and do something. So, with your iPad and phone in your hands, you headed into town to find a nice place to sit and edit some photos you had taken recently. You were originally heading to a small cafe in town when you saw Minghao in a nearby park, sitting on the swings. With a small smile, you made your way over, tapping him on the shoulder.

He snapped his head to where you had tapped, smiling when he saw you staring down at him.

“Hey! What brings you here?” you asked, moving to sit in the swing next to him. He motioned down to his sketchbook. You leaned in for a moment, looking at the drawing. Your eyes scanned the carefully drawn lines, admiring the messy beauty that Minghao was creating.

“It’s beautiful,” you breathed, eyes stuck to the sketchbook. Minghao inhaled a little bit, heart beating. Why were your compliments making him feel this way? He held his breath until you moved away and flashed him a smile.

“Well, I hope I’m not bothering you. I was going to go to the cafe to edit some photos, but I’ll keep you company if you want,” you offered. Minghao felt himself nod before he could stop himself. You smiled happily, taking out your iPad and stylus to begin editing the photos you had taken. Minghao watched you delicately zoom in and photoshop clutter out of the photo. He stared down at his earbuds before holding one out.

“Wanna listen?” You looked down at his hands and smiled, accepting the earbud. You wiped it down a little bit, earning a chuckle from Minghao, before putting it in your ear. With music playing in both of your ears, each of you got back to work on your projects, enjoying the comfortable silence.

After two hours of working, you and Minghao parted ways with a smile and a promise to see each other again soon. You smiled at your shoes as you walked, feeling giddy for a reason that was still foreign to you. All you knew was that you liked Minghao’s presence, and it made you happy. Minghao did the same thing as he walked the opposite direction, staring down at his sketchbook, happier with his work than he had ever been before.

Another week passed without seeing Minghao. You texted a bit, checking in and asking about his projects, but other than that you hadn’t seen him. It wasn’t until you walked into the local bookshop that you saw Minghao again. You were going to look for some new books to read when you noticed Minghao pursuing the fiction section. With a smile, you approached him.

“Finding anything good?” Minghao turned to look at you, a smile on his face.

“We keep running into each other it seems. And no, I haven’t found anything particularly good,” he said, motioning towards the shelves. He was stationed in front of the classic literature section. You smiled as you scanned the titles before pulling out Pride and Prejudice.

“Have you read this book yet?” you asked, handing it to him. He looked at the cover before shaking his head.

“Nope. I’ve heard of it before though.”

“I highly recommend it. It is one of my favorite books of all time,” you said. Minghao smiled, clutching it to his chest.

“Then I guess I’ll have to read it,” he said. You gave him a wide smile before searching the shelves and pulling out a couple of titles that you liked. With books in hand, you and Minghao paid for your books and exited the store. You walked down the sidewalk together, bags in hand. You talked aimlessly, Minghao sharing stories about his friends and their chaos and you sharing stories about your college friends. It felt so natural to just talk to one another this way, and before you knew it, you were at the street where you needed to part.

“It was nice seeing you, Minghao!” you said, smiling at him.

“And it was nice seeing you. Text me later!” he said. With a wave and a nod, you walked away, head fuzzy and heart leaping with joy. Minghao smiled to himself and he walked away, his heart warm.

Another week went by with little conversation between you and Minghao. That was until you finally got the guts to ask if he wanted to read together at the cafe in town. After agreeing on a date and time, you and Minghao met up at the cafe with your choice of book. Minghao smiled as he sat down with his coffee, Pride and Prejudice in hand. You sat across from him, your book in hand along with your coffee. You both fell into a comfortable silence, flipping pages of your book every couple of minutes.

After a while, you started sneaking glances at Minghao. He looked good with his glasses perched on his nose, sharp eyes gliding along the words written in the book. His hair fell ever so slightly onto his forehead, and every so often he would take a sip of his coffee without looking up. For some reason seeing him like this made you feel weird. Like you wanted to vomit but in a good way. And that’s when it hit you, like a truck going full speed.

You were falling for Minghao.

You anxiously looked down at your book, suddenly feeling very flushed and nervous. You took a couple of deep breaths, hoping that you could calm down your suddenly beating heart and pumping blood.

Minghao was also sneaking peeks at you from across the table. He loved the way you muttered under your breath about the plot or the characters. Every now and then you would reach for your coffee, hand grabbing towards it before you finally found and lifted it. Occasionally you would brush your hair out of your face, allowing Minghao to see your entire face. Watching you and all your habits made him smile. His heart jumped and he wanted nothing more than to watch you do that all the time. And that is when it hit Minghao, like a car hitting a bug.

He was falling for you.

He inhaled sharply at the realization before shaking his head and looking back at his book. He resisted the urge to look at you now and again, afraid that his heart might burst if he looked at you anymore.

After an hour of reading in silence, you and Minghao both decided to stop reading, though you didn’t tell each other that the reason was that you were both too distracted by the other to get any actual reading done. Books in hand, you and Minghao made your way to the pier where you had met. The sun was still high in the sky but the pier was relatively empty, save for a few fishermen.

You and Minghao walked to the end, sitting down so your feet were hanging over the water. Neither of you talked, both afraid that any words you said would come out an incoherent jumbled mess. Besides, the silence wasn’t awkward, in fact, it was quite nice. For someone like Minghao, it was rare to meet someone who he felt comfortable not talking with. He usually felt obligated to keep up a conversation, but with you, he felt at ease just sitting and admiring the view.

You both sat there for a moment, lost in your own thoughts and hyperaware that you were sitting next to someone so beautiful and amazing. Minghao went to set his hand down but recoiled quickly when he placed his large hand on top of yours. You both flushed, looking away to hide your obvious embarrassment and leaping hearts. Before the situation could get any more awkward, you leaped up from your spot, book in hand.

“I should probably go. My grandma is probably waiting for me. I’ll see you later, Hao,” you said, trying not to fumble over your words before rushing down the pier and back home. Minghao stared at you as you left, mind completely overrun with thoughts of you.

That night you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned in the guest bedroom you were inhabiting for the summer, but no matter what, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was awake, racing with ideas, and your hands were itching for you to make something. As the morning birds began chirping and the soft sunlight began breaking over the horizon, you gave up on sleep.

You walked into the kitchen, made yourself a coffee, and went to the garage. The garage was home to your art supplies over the summer, storing your chalks, paints, easels, and everything in between. Taking your bucket full of different chalks, you and your coffee made your way to the backyard. The backyard of the house had a large slab of concrete where the porch was supposed to be, but your grandma never used it so it remained empty. You tied your hair out of your face before getting to work.

Honestly, you didn’t have a plan for the piece of art you were making. Usually, you sketched something out first, but your brain was controlling your hands at this point, making wide strokes and small strokes, forming a piece of art almost mindlessly. Between sips of coffee and the sun rising, your hands slowly became stained with different colors of chalk.

After a couple of hours of work, you finally stared down at your art and your eyes widened. You hadn’t realized earlier, but the strokes of chalk in various shades of pastel pink, blue, and yellow had come together to form an image of a familiar boy on the pier. You blushed as you stared down at it, before brushing it off. Minghao wouldn’t ever see it anyway, so what was the problem?

You jumped slightly as your phone rang. Retrieving the device from your back pocket, you sighed as you attempted to press the answer button without getting chalk on your phone.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N?” Minghao’s voice rang clear through the phone. You froze, eyes stuck on the chalk drawing in front of you.

“Uh, hey Hao. What’s up?” you asked.

“I was wondering if you wanted to hang out. I was gonna go through the photos and I’d love to get your opinion on them,” Hao said. You smiled to yourself, feeling your heart jump a little bit in your chest.

“I’d love to. Give me a couple of minutes, I just got done doing a mural so I need to wash up.” You explained, staring down at the mess of chalk on your clothes and skin. Hao laughed.

“No problem. I’d love to see the mural sometime.” You froze again, your brain rebooting as you tried to figure out what to say next.

“Uh yeah, okay. Send me the address and I’ll be there soon,” you said before hanging up. You let out a large sigh, trying to regain your breath and thoughts. You were about to head inside when the mural caught your eye again. Eyeing it for a few seconds, you pulled up your phone camera and took a photo of it.

After you showered and got yourself presentable (which took way more time than it should have), you were on your way to the cottage. It was a fifteen-minute walk from your grandma’s house, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t spend a majority of the walk stressing about seeing Minghao.

It was weird. Before, everything had been fine. You’d texted like friends who had known each other for ages, you felt at ease with him even when it was silent, and overall you felt comfortable in his presence. All of that was still true, but somehow it all felt different knowing that you liked him.

You forced yourself to stop overthinking as you approached the cottage door. Vernon answered the door, asking you how you’d been. You made small talk, telling him about your latest baking adventures and some new art projects. You didn’t bring up the mural. Vernon kept talking with you while he led you to Minghao’s room. He left after guiding you, giving you a wink which only made you more nervous.

Gently pushing the door open, you spotted Minghao sitting on the floor in casual clothing, back against the edge of the bed and glasses once again perched on his nose. His laptop was sitting on his lap and his slender fingers were clicking away at the keys and mousepad. He looked up as he heard the door open, smiling softly as he noticed it was you.

“Hey! Come here, I wanna show you some photos,” he said, patting the carpet next to him. You quickly scrambled to sit next to him, aware of the way his arm pressed against yours when you looked at his computer screen. The screen was covered with photos of different parts of town, from the pier to the candy shop. You smile as you observe each photo, Minghao clicking through them.

“Hao, these are gorgeous,” you said, stunned by how beautiful the photos were. He smiled.

“Thanks.” He continued to click and it wasn’t until he clicked forward and quickly clicked back that you sent him a questioning gaze.

“What’s the matter?” The photo that you had seen for a second looked like just another photo of the scenery the town had to offer, but the look on Minghao’s face made it seem like it was a crime.

“Nothing. Those photos aren’t finished anyway.” He said, quickly, but before he could stop you, you reached over and clicked the next arrow. Your eyes widened at the sight you were met with.

It was you. The photo was of you at the candy shop, holding the blue and white swirl lollipop and smiling like there wasn’t a care in the world. You had never thought you could look so beautiful, but the way Minghao captured you made it look like you were an angel. You unconsciously pressed the forward arrow again, revealing more photos of you from throughout the trip. A photo of you dancing with Chan and Jun at the ice cream parlor. A photo of you laughing as you ate your ice cream. A photo of you at the window of the trolley, hair blowing, and a content smile on your face. A few photos of you as you led them through the forest and last but not least some photos of you in the secret lake, the water sparkling around you, but you seemingly sparkling more.

“Hao…” You were speechless. These photos were stunning, but why had Minghao chosen you as a muse?

“I hope you don’t mind. You just looked so carefree that day. Everywhere we went you had a smile on your face and you looked like an angel. I figured it would be a missed opportunity to not take some photos of you. Originally I was only gonna take some at the candy store, but I loved you in those photos so much that I had to take more,” Hao explained, his voice tense from nerves. You stared at him, shocked. He thought you were beautiful? You smiled softly at him.

“Well, I guess we are both each other’s muses,” you said. Minghao furrowed his brows in confusion while you pulled your phone out. You quickly pulled up your mural from this morning and showed it to him. His eyes sparkled as he took in the chalk mural that you had made. It was so intricate, yet stylistic. He was drawn in different shades of pastel, almost like a stained glass window made of chalk.

“I couldn’t sleep last night cause my brain was itching to do something. I woke up and started to make this mural, but I wasn’t really thinking about it when I made it. My brain just drew the lines the way my heart wanted them to be. It wasn’t until I was finished I realized that it was you,” you explained, face heating up as you tried to explain yourself to him. He looked up from the phone to you, before smiling.

“Well, this makes me less nervous to tell you that I like you. I think I’ve liked you since we first met, but I didn’t realize till we were at the coffee shop,” Minghao admitted. You let out a small chuckle.

“I like you too, Minghao. Maybe tonight, we can go on a proper date?” You asked. Minghao nodded happily.

“I’d like that very much,” he said. You smiled as you felt his arms wrap around your shoulders, bringing you in close. You cuddled into his chest, feeling weightless. The nervousness that was there before was gone, leaving only the content feeling of love in its place.

This town had never left you dry for inspiration, and you think that this town finally brought you your forever muse.

#xu minghao #seo myungho #minghao x reader #xu minghao x reader #xu minghao fluff #minghao fluff #seventeen #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen fanfic #seventeen minghao #seo myungho x reader #tct summer collection #a tct summer #xu minghao fanfic #seventeen fluff #seventeen oneshots

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anakin-danvers · 4 years ago

Text

say anything

Din Djarin x fem!reader

gif credit to owner

Request: “Congratulations on 100, lovely! For the prompt lists, how about "One Hundred Ways to Say 'I Love You'" #2 and #48 for my man Din Djarin? I love your writing 💗” as requested by @obirain

Description: Traveling with the notorious bounty hunter known as The Mandalorian has its risks. However, nobody told you the biggest risk would be having to face your feelings for him.

Word count: ~3.4k how did this get to be so long?

Warnings: some angst, pining, fluff, mentions of alcohol consumption

A/N: Ahhh Aubrey I really hope you like this!! You know I love you very very much and your fics always blow me away so I hope this is to your enjoyment!! I’m very excited to have written for our love Din! I had this idea for some time now and decided to write it out with these prompts! Originally I put English words of endearment but then accidentally started using words of endearment in Spanish and I sort of rolled with it? Translation(s) down below 😁 Hope you all enjoy, and as always, lmk what you all think (I read everything you guys write, seriously, multiple times)! 🥰

Translations: cariño - sweetie

vida mia - my life

Taglist:

@mcu-padawan @obirain @corellians-only @valkyrieofthehighfae @littlevodika @catsnkooks @hounding-around @roseofalderaan @ohhellokenobi @goldenkenobi @snips-n-skyguy0501 @cherrykenobi @sacred-things @nobie @anakinswhore

join my taglist!

——

“Hey, put that down!” You reach over to take the canister of homemade paint from the small green hand.

A babble of protest is all you receive as a response.

“I told you we could paint if you didn’t make a mess. That was the deal, remember?”

Another babble. The hands reach out again, wanting to take the canister from you. You pull it out of their reach, giving the baby in front of you a stern look.

“No, no, kid. We’re doing it my way. Got it?”

A squeal serves as a response, and you nod, taking hold of one of the kid’s hands to do what you’d planned on doing.

“Alright, we’re going to dip your little hand here, okay? Then press it on the wood. We do that 5 more times and hopefully it’ll turn out the way I imagined...”

A childish laugh escapes the kid’s mouth as his hand comes in contact with the blue paint. You hold it up, letting some of the excess paint drip from it before placing it on the wood. After a few seconds pressed, you slowly peel away the blue and green hand, revealing three little fingers on the wood piece.

“Yes, that looks great. Good job, cariño.”

He gives you a happy coo in response, and you continue to put his hand in the paint to finish the project. After the last hand print, you take a hold of the wood, six, three-fingered hands creating the image of a blue flower.

“Beautiful. We’ll see if your dad likes it.”

Familiar footsteps come from behind you, and you know their owner can hear your conversation now.

“Might be good to put some color on this ship. Make it more of a home, don’t you think?”

The child coo’s at you, his eyes focused on the blue paint on his hand. He doesn’t understand why you’re saying what you are, but then again, it’s not exactly directed to him.

Wordlessly, the one your words are aimed at passes you, the Razor Crest’s door closing behind him. Once you know his back is to you, you allow your eyes to meet the armored body, traveling up from his boots, to his cape, to the back of the Beskar helmet.

You avert your gaze, focusing again on the child and art supplies before you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up,” you say, picking up the kid from his awaiting arms.

You take him to wash his hands of the paint, putting the wood to the side to dry and the other supplies in your designated art bag. You hum to yourself, the only noise within the ship besides the quiet lull now that the ship is traveling through hyperspace. After cleaning up the kid, you put him to bed, placing a small kiss on his forehead.

You’ve been traveling with the notorious bounty hunter known as the Mandalorian and his adopted kid for some time now. Din, the name he gave you when you’d asked him in a drunken spark of courage, took you in as a traveling companion and babysitter when they’d stopped by your recently destroyed shop on Agamar. It just so happened to be the bounty that Din was after that had destroyed your shop, so after giving him and the child your last salvaged fruit, you’d helped him track down the bounty. And now you’re here, traveling the galaxy together.

You step into the cockpit, notebook in one hand and pencil in the other. As before, without a word, you take the seat next to Din, crossing your legs on the seat and opening your notebook to your latest project. If there’s something that living in Agamar gave you it was time, time to think, to daydream, or in your case, draw your thoughts and dreams. When you joined Din and his kid, you only started drawing more, the different things in the galaxy giving you an endless supply of muses.

But your favorite muse is the one sitting next to you, the one that hadn’t said a word to you since you’d seen him in the morning. As if sensing your thoughts, Din finally speaks.

“Next stop is Pasanna.” The modulated voice is like music to your ears, and you don’t realized how much you’ve been missing it until now.

“For a quarry?”

He shakes his head, look still focused on the controls before him.

“No. I need some parts for the ship, and I know someone there who can sell more durable ones to me.”

You nod, some relief washing over you when you realize Din won’t be in danger. He turns his seat to face you, and the simple view of the front of his helmet makes your heart skip a beat.

“It’s warm there. I was thinking, maybe you can take the kid and explore. Visit some shops even.”

It’s warm there. It’s a simple statement to anyone, but to you, it means everything. Agamar is not a warm place, and having spent all your life there, you now prefer warmer climates. And Din knows that.

You can’t stop the smile that makes its way to your face.

“That sounds great, Din. I’d love that.”

“I thought you would,” he says, and you can feel the tips of your ears warm at his words.

Without realizing it, you move your notebook to hide the page you’re working on. Din has seen your drawings before, praised them even. But this drawing, it’s more personal, something you’re not sure you’re ready to share yet.

Thankfully, it seems as if Din doesn’t notice. Instead, his visor is directed towards your face. Even though you’re not able to see his eyes, the eyes you’ve only dreamt about seeing, you can feel his stare.

“You have some paint on your cheek.”

“Oh, I do?” You move your eyes away from him, a flustered mess before him. You bring your hand up to your cheek, trying to wipe away at where you think the paint is.

“Y/N, let me. I’ll do it for you.”

You couldn’t protest if you wanted to, because the moment his hand comes up to take a hold of your cheek you weren’t wiping, you freeze.

It’s not the first time he’s touched you. Living together for the past months meant you’d have to have touched each other before. The occasional brush of hands, the bumping into each other, the helping each other onto the ship after a long day. No, it’s not the first time he’s touched you. But it’s the first time he’s touched you like this.

His gloved thumb swipes at your cheek, once, twice, three times before you’re sure he’s taken the paint off. But his hand remains holding you, almost as if you’d crumble like the dried paint if it pulled away. And honestly, with the way your heart is thumping, that might be the case.

A small sigh escapes your lips, and you try to fight the need to close your eyes, to no avail. Your eyes close lightly, and the feelings you’ve been having for Din come rushing to you. If there’s one thing you know about yourself, it’s that your late night confessions are almost as dangerous as your drunken ones, and right now, you’re treading on thin ice.

“Din...” The name rolls out of your mouth as a plea, and you feel a shiver run down your body. “I...I need to tell you something, Din.”

“I think you need to rest.”

You open your eyes at his words, a small frown making its way to your face.

“But first I have to say something.”

His hand stays on your face, his thumb moving up to rub on the frown of your brows.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

Don’t have to say anything? Does that mean he knows?

“Din, I —“

“Please, Y/N, don’t say anything.”

And just like that, it feels as if the once comforting hand burns your skin. You pull your face away, his hand dropping. Before you feel like more of a fool, you get up, closing your notebook and tucking it under your arm.

“Wait, you don’t have to go.” Din makes a move to grab your hand, but you’re out of his reach before he can.

“Goodnight.”

“Y/N...”

You leave the cockpit without another word. You feel your face burn in embarrassment, embarrassment for how vulnerable you allowed yourself to be. Embarrassment for almost telling Din how you feel.

It isn’t until you’re in your cot that you let a few tears roll down your cheeks. You almost told him. Not that it would have any effect. It seems he knows already. But he doesn’t want you to tell him.

You bring your hand up to wipe the wetness of your cheeks. In an attempt to distract your mind, you open your notebook to draw. Only, you open it to the page you’d been working on. And staring back at you is the helmet that fills your day's thoughts. Of course, the moment you want to not think of Din, you open up your sketch of him.

Taking a deep breath, you flip the page, blankness staring back at you instead. Without another thought, you flip back to the drawing, your pencil coming down to continue defining the curve of his helmet. It moves on to sketch the shape of his arms, the flow of his cape, the curve of his boots. Before you know it, you’ve finished the sketch. You’re not going to deny how good it is. It’s so accurate, and all by memory.

I’ve stared at him long enough, I would be surprised if I didn’t sketch this by memory, you think.

You close your eyes and rub them, the tiredness getting to you. Closing the notebook, you tuck it into the bag of your other art supplies, and settle into your bed, letting the darkness of sleep consume you.

~~~

As you feel the warmth of the sun on your skin, you’re sure you’ll never get tired of the feeling. The comfort that comes with the sun’s warmth is one you’ll always cherish. And you’ll always be thankful that Din is the one that introduced you to that comfort.

An excited babble from the kid brings you back from your thoughts. You look over at where he’s following Din in his pod. You can’t help but smile at the sight, the warmth blooming in your chest better than the one coming from the sun. At Din’s insistence, he and the kid had gone to look for the ship parts so that you could get some time to wander the shops alone. That was a little over an hour ago, and now they found you near where you had departed.

You swing the backpack of things you’d bought over your shoulders, walking over to meet them halfway.

“Hey, cariño,” you say, reaching out to grab the little green bundle of joy. A happy giggle is given to you in response, and you pull him close to you.

“He missed his mom.”

You look over at Din, your cheeks burning at his choice of words. His mom. That was the first time you’d been called that.

“Well, I missed him and his dad very much.” Your eyes are focused on the kid, his smile grounding you as you feel the heat travel all the way up to your ears. You’re not looking at Din, you can’t look at him. After last night, you feel as if you’re setting yourself up for heartbreak. He doesn’t want you to tell him how you feel, yet, you bring it up again.

Silence is all you receive as a response from him. In a way, you’re thankful for it. At least that way you can concentrate on the baby talk instead.

And that’s how the rest of the walk to the Razor Crest is. You opt to carry the kid, talking with him the whole walk. Din is silent behind the two of you, the only indicator that he’s even there is the sound of his boots trudging in the sand.

Night is beginning to fall, and for how warm it was in the day, the night brings with it a chilling breeze. You’ve decided to stay in Pasanna until the morning. It was your suggestion, telling Din that there was no rush to your next destination, so might as well get some good rest. He’d agreed, little words exchanged between the two of you throughout the day, the tension from whatever that was which happened the night before still evidently present.

You’re sitting in the pilot chair of the Razor Crest. The kid is fast asleep, the day’s exploring having tired him out. You, on the other hand, can’t sleep, your thoughts flying through your mind at hundreds of parsecs per second.

Your eyes wander to the many buttons and switches on the control panel of the ship. You know how to use most of them, Din showing you how to use a feature on nights you’d both find yourselves in the cockpit. Usually, you’d sit in the seat slightly behind him, allowing him to sit in the main seat. But when he wanted to teach you a new feature, he’d let you take his seat, crouching next to you, so close, so patient when you were confused. To be fair, most of the times you were confused were due to him; he distracted you, the proximity never ceasing to take your breath away.

The protagonist of your thoughts is the one who takes you from them. You hear Din walk into the cockpit, the sound of his footsteps instantly catching your attention in the otherwise silent space. Impulsively, you turn to look at him, his visor already set on you.

“Din.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You’re not sure if it’s a question or a statement, but you nod anyways. Your hands begin to clam up, prompting you to rub your hands on your thighs.

“I had a nice time today. I...I appreciate you choosing to come to Pasanna. The warmth was nice.”

He takes a seat in your usual spot, a sigh heard through his modulator. It’s ironic, in a way. You’re sitting in the pilot’s seat, him in the secondary, but it doesn’t feel like you’re the one in control of the situation. No, it feels like you’re the ship itself, waiting for his directions to tell you where to go from here.

He doesn’t say anything, simply nods as a response. Since you’ve known Din, you’ve never seen him without his helmet on, and you’ve never questioned it. But you’d be lying if you didn’t wish you could see his face right now, the face that you’re sure is more beautiful than the way you could ever imagine it. You wish you could see his expressions to try to decipher his thoughts, know where exactly his eyes are focused on. Is it your forehead? Your nose? Perhaps directly at your eyes?

“I...I picked up a few things for you at the market.”

You blink a few times to once again refocus on the present. Only now do you notice he’s holding something, a rectangular object wrapped in sand brown cloth.

“Oh?” You’re not really sure what else to say, his actions foreign to you.

He gets up to walk to where you’re sitting, crouching in front of you and holding the wrapped object over. You take it from him, curiosity filling you at the anticipation of what this is. Your fingers unwrap the lightly bound cloth, revealing a simple wooden box. You look up at Din, and at his nod, you move to open it. At the contents inside, you gasp. Within the box, there are paint brushes, beautifully crafted ones of different sizes. And next to the brushes are a few small pots of paint. Real paint. Not the homemade one that you’ve been making work. No, this is real paint and it’s yours...

“It reminded me of you.”

At his words, you look up to meet his visor again. Now you really wish you could see his eyes. Try to get some idea as to what he’s thinking, where he’s looking. Is he looking at the confusion written on your face? Is he looking at the way your eyes suddenly feel wet with emotion? Is he looking at the faint frown of your brow?

Turns out he’s looking at your lips. They’re slightly parted, the absence of words leaving them in a waiting state. His gloved hand comes to take a hold of your chin, thumb swiping your bottom lip. All air leaves your lungs, and your tongue darts out to lick your lips to try to ease the dryness of mouth you’re experiencing. You hear Din let out a small groan at your actions, the sound only making your heartbeat speed up even more.

“I’ve seen your drawings.”

At his words, you feel heat rush up to your face. Has he seen the ones you’ve drawn of him?

“Have you seen…” You can’t even bring yourself to ask the question.

He nods. “The ones of me? I have seen them. You’re not the best at being discreet about it, you know?”

“Well, with such a beautiful muse, can you judge me?” You don’t realize what you’ve said until the words are out of your mouth. “Din…I—“

“Y/N, about last night—”

“You d-don’t have to say anything.” You try to repeat his words from the night before with the same coolness he’d said them, but find you can’t with the way he makes you feel.

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he says, sighing lightly. His thumb comes up to touch your lip again, staying on it this time. “I’m just...I don’t know what this is. I’m not good with words, you know that. I just need you to know I care about you, I have for a long time. And I need you in my life. You and the kid, you’re all that matters to me.”

Taking a shaky breath, you bring your hands up to grab the one he’s holding your face with. Slowly, as if you’d frighten him with faster movements, you bring his hand away from your face, taking a hold of the glove and peeling it off his hand. Closing your eyes, you bring his hand up to your lips, kissing each finger. His thumb, his index, his middle, his ring, his pinky. Then you kiss his knuckles, again, one at a time. You don’t open your eyes until you’re done, meeting his visor staring back at you.

“I love you, Din, mi vida.”

And indeed he is your life. Him and the kid, just like he’d said.

“Close your eyes again.”

You do as he says, eyes closing but not letting go of his hand. He moves it away from you, putting your hands on your lap and bringing his up to cover your eyes. You hear the sound of something being placed on the ground, and before you can ask what it is, you feel lips connect with your own. They’re soft, warm. They’re Din’s.

He kisses you softly, and you can feel the caution behind it. He’s being careful, waiting to see how you react.

You can’t get enough of the feeling. Your hands fly up to take a hold of his head, bringing him closer to you and causing him to kneel instead of crouch. Din groans softly at your eagerness, his other hand coming to take a hold of your thigh. His large hand rubs up and down, all while your fingers comb through his hair.

His hair. His lips. You’re feeling what you never thought you would. And it feels so right.

The thought alone makes the fire burning inside you grow, and before you know it, you’re nipping lightly at his bottom lip. Another groan escapes Din, his hand on your thigh squeezing lightly. It’s your need for air that causes you to pull away, your eyes still shut tightly under his hand.

You wait there, heart beating, face warm, swollen lips tingling. When Din removes his hand from your eyes, you keep your eyes closed, not wanting to see anything he doesn’t want to show.

“You can open your eyes, sweet girl.”

You do, eyes meeting with the familiar visor once again. You can’t help but smile, a breathy laugh escaping your lips.

“I love you,” you say again.

“I love you too. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

That night, you sleep in Din’s cot with him. It’s small, and definitely not meant for two people. But it’s the most comfortable sleep you’ve ever had.

96 notes · View notes

morgana-ren · 4 years ago

Note

Imagine being at a Halloween party thrown by Dabi and someone in a Leatherface costume keeps following you. It turns out to be Shigaraki. You comment on how his human skin mask is cool and how it looks so real, and oddly looks like Bakugo's face. He laughs, tosses it away and leads you to a field of pumpkins, where he non cons you, while Spooky Scary Skeletons plays in the background.

Okay listen, I know this was probably sent in 200 percent as a joke, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to sit down for an hour and make it work. It’s been a weird week. I can make weird work.

Like imagine kinda knowing Dabi before the league goes super big. You don’t know too much about him, but he’s a friend of a friend and so on and he’s got the dangerous bad boy appeal alongside those haunting blue eyes, so all ya friends hover around him. So lets say you get invited to his spooky-dooky Halloween party he’s throwin’ in an old warehouse. It’s sort of his last hurrah cause it’s a lot harder to try and bone civvie girls when you’re a wanted villain with your face on the news attached to a criminal group, so he’s gunna throw it back tonight and take what he can get, you feel?

So you and ya friends get all cute and dolled up in your costumes and head out to this bash that’s taking place on the wrong side of the tracks in some godforsaken warehouse. It’s in the industrial zone, which is comprised of nothing but abandoned buildings, squat houses, and old warehouses. You’re pretty sure he just found one and broke the chain on the door and called it a night. That should be your first clue, but fuck it, what’s life without a little risk?

Anyway, a few hours pass and admittedly, you’re a lil’ drunk. That being said, you could swear this dude in a leatherface costume is stalking you. Maybe not stalking you, per say, but he’s definitely trying hard to be where you are. It’s not like he’s easy to confuse with anyone else; his costume is super unique, and if you’re being honest, a little disturbing. It legit looks like that kid Bakugo from the Sports Festival but forcefully mutated in with the classic Leatherface look. Whoever it is, they’ve definitely got an edgy sense of humor. It should spook you, but it’s Halloween for fucks sake! At least they’re putting some effort in! It’s no coincidence that you see him literally everywhere you go, so maybe he likes you?

Maybe he’s cute under that creepy mask.

It’s worth a shot (get it, shot?), so you let him follow you to the bar and sit down next to an equally empty seat, hoping to give off the vibe of ‘quit being creepy and come talk to me.’

A few seconds later and surprise surprise, he sits down right beside you. No sense in pretending this is anything other than what it is, so you turn right to him and offer to buy him a drink.

He stares at you for a minute, beady pupils surveying you beneath that godawful mask he’s donning before he nods. He doesn’t tell you what he wants, so you just order him whatever mixture of gasoline and fruit you get. He just stares at you while you sip at your own drink, and you can’t help but laugh. His eyes are fuckin’ intense, and while you’re already a little tipsy, it’s pretty clear he’s dead sober. Luckily, alcohol gives you a charming ice breaker.

“It’s probably a little difficult to drink with that terrifying thing on your face, but I really appreciate your dedication to the look.”

Behind the holes of the mask, his eyes crinkle near the edges. You can’t tell if he’s smiling or snarling, but he’s definitely reacting to what you’re saying. He must’ve decided that he likes you, because he finally reaches behind his head and loosens whatever makeshift strap that’s tangled in his silver, ‘fake’ blood matted hair.

As he lets it fall away from his face, you study what’s underneath. He’s a little rough around the edges, a little chapped with dry skin and more than a few blisters on his pale lips, but he’s cute and the costume has you intrigued. For all you know, it could be liquid latex. The guy seems pretty dedicated after all. It makes you wonder what is Halloween paint and what’s his actual skin. You kinda wanna lick him and find out.

Shut up, alcohol.

“It’s homemade.” He rasps out, voice cracking and strained like he hasn’t spoken in days. After a sip of his own drink, he slips a subtle smile as he sees you eying the grotesque costume piece. “I’m glad you like it.”

It’s gross to say the least. Whatever it’s made out of, it’s certainly not plastic or rubber like most masks. It smells atrocious, especially coupled with the must and cheap booze of the warehouse, and it makes you a little queasy as it flops around in his lap a little too lifelike for your liking. It even has pores, for Christ’s sake. Tearing your gaze away from it isn’t easy, but if you look much longer, you’re not really sure what your stomach is gunna do, so you turn your attentions to the owner instead.

“Are you making a statement or just not a fan of the would-be hero types?”

He giggles a little even though you’re not entirely sure what you said was funny. “I guess you could say it’s both.”

You sit in an awkward silence, sipping at your drink for a few minutes before another wave of alcohol induced courage lights a fire under your ass. If he won’t talk, you sure as fuck will.

“So, are you a friend of Dabi’s or-” He scoffs, loud and hard, lip curling in distaste. “No. I’m unfortunate enough to know him. We work together.”

“Really? I always wondered what he did for a living.”

It takes him a second to realize that’s you’re prodding, and a minute longer to come up with an answer. “I guess you could say we’re sort of... activists or something.”

“Is that so? He never really struck me as the generous type.”

“He’s not.” He grins like a fox in a henhouse, mischievous and sly like he knows something you don’t. “And I’m not either.”

“Then why be an activist?”

His smirk fades, and he nurses his drink, flicking his eyes away from you. “I dunno.”

“What kind of activist are you? Like social or environmental or-”

“Uh-” He clearly wasn’t expecting this line of questioning. “Political.”

“Oh, that’s cool! What kind of politics are you guys into? You seem like the anarchy sort to me, but I don’t wanna judge-”

“Are you always this nosy?”

His sudden hostility takes you back a little. Sure, you’re drunk and annoying, but that seems a bit excessive. Maybe this isn’t the tree you want to be barking up tonight.

“Sorry. I was just trying to get to know you.”

You turn your body away from him slightly, returning your gaze to the rusted metal behind the makeshift bar. You can see him glaring you down out of your periphery but opt to ignore it. Regardless, he stares for a few more moments before downing the rest of the drink you apparently wasted your money on. “Well, don’t.”

Whatever, man. It’s a fucking Halloween party. You can find a different jerk-ass to hook up with, one who at least pretends to be nice until the night is over. Dicks are a dime a dozen in a place like this, and the ‘super mysterious, if I told you, I’d have to kill you’ bullshit charade he’s playing is grating on your nerves. Part of you wants to tell him off for being so rude, but the other part is telling you to just shut up, project your disinterest, and wait for him to leave.

You huff a small sigh, blowing the air out of your puckered lips as you roll your eyes behind closed lids. Your side of the conversation comes to an abrupt halt, and suddenly everything in the room is more interesting than he is. Yet even with the uncomfortable awkward air around you both, he doesn’t leave. He just continues scanning you over as you do your best to give him the cold shoulder. So he really thinks there’s any sort of comeback from that, huh?

Apparently he does. He’s not very good with social hints either. You’ve almost tuned him out when you feel a bony hand clutching your upper arm.

“Hey, come with me. This place is boring and I’ve got something I want to show you.”

You turn, shooting him a disbelieving glare, but he’s already slid off his bar stool and is pulling you along with him. He doesn’t bother to wait for your answer, weaving through the crowds and dragging you behind him even as you try to wiggle your arm out of his grasp. Had you been in your right mind, you might have screamed or shoved him and told him to get lost, but your liquor marinated mind makes it difficult. He’s kinda right, after all. This place has gotten boring. All your friends left you behind an hour ago to go find their own conquests and dancing by yourself gets pretty lame after a minute. It’s not like you had anything better to do.

Alright, fine. Follow the rude guy. He seems pretty adamant about it anyway.

You try to justify it by telling yourself maybe he’s just super socially awkward or doesn’t have much experience with girls. He could also be one of those super brash, brutally honest people that just says whatever comes to mind. Maybe he didn’t mean it in a mean way. A trailing history of terrible taste in men leaves his unbridled rudeness with a bad taste in your mouth, but it wasn’t like you were planning on seeing him again after tonight. Ride the dick and then ride off into the sunset.

You both dodge through the groups of people together as he yanks you towards the very back of the warehouse. The couple of doors he leads you through have a fairly prominent ‘Do Not Enter’ sign cautioning at eye level, but he doesn’t seem dissuaded, pulling you through the heavy doors despite the clear warning. A few hallways and dim, empty corridors later and he’s ushering you into something resembling a claustrophobic courtyard outside that joins the warehouse with a few of the surrounding buildings.

It’s very dark outside, and aside from the slight shine of ugly yellow tinted streetlights peeking through the alleyway, you can’t see much of anything. You can’t imagine what on Earth it is out here that he wants to show you, but you doubt you’ll even be able to see it. Anxiety starts to bloom in your chest as your drunk mind starts to realize that you’ve followed a stranger out into a very dark, very isolated area.

“H-hey, I never got your name.”

He laughs softly, coming up behind you and gripping your shoulders in a way that feels all too tight. Steering you forward, he leans in, feet falling in line with your steps.

“You’re right. My bad, that’s awfully rude of me.”

He pushes you forward in a way that seems a bit intense for having just met before latching his hands lazily around the base of your neck and pulling you into his chest.

“I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t know what Dabi does for a living, or else you never would have been stupid enough to follow me out here.”

Okay, it’s Halloween and all, but his brand of prank is starting to feel a little too real. The macabre costume and total boorishness should have been the insight you needed to come to the conclusion that this guy just isn’t quite right in the head, but between the alcohol and your desire to give him the benefit of the doubt, it just never quite clicked for you.

“It’s Shigaraki, by the way. My name. I’m sure you’ve heard it before.”

His wet breath on your neck isn’t the only reason you get shivers. You have heard that name before, only never spoken so casually. His fingers tighten around the tensing muscles in your throat as you swallow down a bombardment of emotion. Panic. Fear. Realization.

There’s a million and ten things going through your mind right now, the foremost of which is why. You aren’t a hero, nor are you a particularly fervent hero supporter. You’re not related to any heroes, and frankly, there’s no one further from the social/cultural hub that is hero society. Isn’t that what this guy gets his rocks off to? At least from the news snippets, that’s the impression you gathered.

You want to ask him why you. Maybe its a selfish question but it’s a question none the less, and one people tend to ask when their place on the mortal coil is being threatened. Yet, no matter how you try to spit out the words, your tongue stills in your dry mouth and refuses to cooperate. The pounding in your chest is giving way to a headache and a serious case of sick, and you swear between the loud pulsing of blood in your veins, you can hear him giggling behind you.

You think maybe that’s a strong enough cue to leave. You can ask him why when you’re separated by a thick layer of glass at Tartarus.

You know, it’s easy to sit back in the comfort of your own home and laugh at the clumsy heroine in any given horror movie who fumbles away from the killer like a newborn fawn just discovering its own lanky legs, but you’re quick to understand just why that troupe is so popular. It takes you a moment to gather the courage to turn on your heel and shove him hard on the chest, and even when you manage, it’s so weak and pathetic that it barely knocks him off balance. It only just gives you enough space that you can dart in the opposite direction. Where you’re going, you have no clue, but it’s not on the forefront of your mind as you pound pavement beneath your shitty costume shoes and shout “Stay away from me!” like some cliche damsel in distress.

Your adrenaline fueled getaway is short lived. A few seconds after beginning your feverish sprint away from what you know to be a very dangerous young fellow, the front of your foot catches on something and sends you toppling to the ground only a few feet from where you began your initial rush. Your fall is less than graceful, and the shriek that emits from your throat before your body thuds to the dirt like a sack of potatoes is far less sexy than anything in any horror movie. The bag you’ve been clutching, filled with nothing but the bare essentials and a half empty flask, is flung from your fingers. Your assailant doesn’t slow-walk towards you in a menacing manner while wielding a knife, but practically jogs over, wheezing with nasally laughter as he grabs you by the hair.

“I bet that went a lot better in your head, huh?”

A lot of things went a lot better in your head, to be fair. That scene. This night. Your life in general. But the little pity party you’re throwing yourself does little to garner his sympathies. No amount of hiccuping and crying fat gobs of tears that leak from your lashes and down into the Halloween makeup it took you hours to do elicits any response from him but what he had already planned on.

His laughter finally dies down and the fingers threaded through your hair manhandle you to your knees before roughly casting you down onto something. Something hollow yet sturdy greets your sensitive, liquor addled stomach as he forces you down and bends you over it. It feels slightly waxy, yet organic to the touch, and seems to wobble around slightly the more he kicks and prods you into a position you’ve seen one too many times in those shitty free pornos.

Pumpkin. It’s a fucking pumpkin.

You can smell the leaves and grass and sodden soil as he positions your hips up in the air, shucking off the costume apron he’d been wearing. Dirt embeds under your finger nails as you struggle to drag the rest of your body over the pumpkin to make your escape, but the hand that isn’t currently fumbling with his zipper is still tightly anchored in your hair, holding you in place. He hisses out a few words warning you against struggling too hard, his quirk is uncontrollable after all.

He makes quick work of the cheap costume bottom, inhaling a ragged breath and digging his jagged nails in a little too tightly to your skin when your ass becomes bared to the cool night air. The sight of you must’ve made him impatient, as he settles for simply yanking up your top along your back to expose your tits instead of going through the effort to try and get it off you. If what you’ve heard is true, he could simply dust it and be rid of it, but he doesn’t seem like he’s in the most centered form of mind right now, and it doesn’t appear like it’s your death he’s after.

No, it seems like he’s after something much more intimate than death.

Your mind is acutely aware of what’s about to happen, but it’s trapped in your paralyzed body, unable to force your heavy limbs to move with the weight of the panic. He’s freed himself from his pants, knuckles bumping against the cleft of your ass with every jerk of the cock that you thank God is hidden from your vision. After a few rigorous pumps, he withdraws for a moment before spitting and dribbling his slick saliva into the palm of his hand, coating his cock and using it as a makeshift lubricant.

When he’s finished making spitting sounds that make your stomach church, he lines his hips against your reluctantly spread legs and you feel the hot, thick tip prodding against the tautly pulled walls of your entrance. It’s enough to renew your childlike kicking and whining, babbling and pleading for him to stop. Regardless, he pays you no mind, opting only to yank his hand from the roots of your hair. It stings and he takes several strands of hair with it, but you don’t have time to focus on the pain as his fingertips dig into the fat of your cheeks, flexing and forcing you to look up at him as he hunches his wiry frame over yours.

It’s hard to see through the haze of tears that blear your vision and thick black makeup caking around your eyes, but you can make out that he’s smiling. If you can call it that, that is. Cracked lips wet and parted, breathing hot, moist breath down onto your forehead. Lips curled upward in a nasty, smarmy grin. A slimy tongue trails along his teeth as he practically drools down onto your shoulder like you’re a thick cut of venison and he’s a rabid wolf ready to sink in his canines.

“You know, I never cared much for Halloween,” His hips cant forward ever so slightly and begins to push the tip inside your unwilling hole. Slowly, slowly at first, but soon with more force. It hurts, morphing from a dull ache into an intense sting the more his girthy length is stuffed snug inside between your thighs. “But Dabi was right- it’s a lot more fun when you dress up.”

To punctuate the end of his sentence, he pulses his hips forward, sinking himself all the way inside and watching with a sick sense of glee as your face contorts in pain. He rolls his hips experimentally against your backside a few times, hissing in slight discomfort at the bittersweet tightness that strangles his flesh inside of yours. It stills him only for a brief moment, long enough for you to truly grasp the horrendous sensation of your body molding to accommodate something too large for it to have been ready to take.

However uncomfortable he may be, it’s nothing compared to what you’re feeling. It seems like a cruel joke that the wanted villain who set his sights on you that night would also have a monster cock, but Halloween was always the devil’s little prank show. He’s crammed it inside you with no regard for the damage it might do, pain radiating in the deep of your stomach as his cockhead is scrunched firmly against the wall of your cervix. Your fingers dig deeper into the dirt, but not to escape. You’re aware you’re too firmly impaled on him for that to be an option, so you settle for trying to give yourself any sensation at all that will lessen the unholy tear of your already sensitive pussy.

Eventually he decides he’s had enough of memorizing your pretty, anguished face, and his movements begin anew. Hips pistoning in a building rhythm, flesh of his thighs slapping obscenely against your bare ass. The protruding stem of the pumpkin grates into your abdomen, forcing pained, breathy ‘ah’s from you with every powerful hump. The anguishing drag of his cock assaulting your insides begins to blend together one after the next, and you do your best to block out the animalistic grunts and a sickening moans he emits with every thrust.

Eventually he lets your face go in favor of sinking his fingers just below your waist to anchor you in place as he pounds away, and you take the opportunity to drop your head in defeat and clench your eyes shut. He’ll get bored of you or he’ll cum. It’s what comes after that you should really be worried about. By the sounds he’s making, he’s far from losing interest. He seems to be getting a bit carried away, muttering something along the lines of “take it, slut” and needing to celebrate holidays more often.

That’s when you hear it.

Spooky, scary, skeletons send shivers down your spine

At first, you think it’s a joke. Like you’re having some sort of twisted nightmare and reality has finally decided to throw you a bone to lead your consciousness back home. But his manic fucking never stops and neither does the pain.

Shrieking souls with shock your soul, seal your doom tonight

A few blinks to clear the fresh wave of agony and one hand digging into the side of the pumpkin to stable yourself enough against his rutting to search for the source of the noise. There’s a glowing light a few feet from you, flashing and vibrating but just out of reach.

Your phone. It’s your phone. Your bag had landed not far from where he had you pinned, and your phone had been thrown from the bag.

Your new October ringtone plays through the damaged speakers, flashing your best friends face on the screen. She’s looking for you, probably wondering where you went. She’d never find you here. No one would.

We’re so sorry skeletons, you’re so misunderstood

Help is so close, yet so far away. Your sobs begin anew, feeling his cock pulse as he whines something about breeding his pretty little bitch into your ear. He’s cumming inside you, papping his hips against you in a shallow, offbeat rhythm. You can feel it, hear it squelching and leaking down your thighs. He came. Inside you. And judging from what few words you can make out between your agonized cries, he has every intention of doing it again.

You just want to socialize but I don’t think we should

#Anonymous #Shigaraki x reader #tw rape #tw noncon #tw alcohol #gagfic #this is a fucking joke and I put no effort into it please know that #I wouldn't actually consider it one of my stories #just a goof lmao #warning not proofread AT ALL #Shigaraki fucks you over a pumpkin #still technically smut tho #You're a girl on a quest for dat DICK and he's a rude asshole #Bakugo may or may not be dead #totally depends on your interpretation #i wrote this on PAIN KILLERS BABEYYYY

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cuddly-dean-baby · 4 years ago

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Could you please write one based on the episode " french mistake" where Dean and Sam come to the real life and end up Meeting Jensen and jered's boyfriend( who is really young, like 20/21) and they get nervous because in supernatural world he is a evil angel that tried to kill they a lot of times, but end up loving him cuz the human him is lovely and caring and they even use the situation to get some cuddles and kisses? Thank you very much♥️

Yeah, I can write this ♥️

French Mistake

The brothers come crashing through the window, the crew watch them. They stand up and look back at the crew in confusion.

“Alright, everybody, that’s a wrap.” Robert yells out before turning to the brothers. “Go get cleaned up, then go home to your boy.”

Sam and Dean both become more confused.

Two people come along, guiding Sam and Dean to some chairs in front of mirrors.

A woman comes at Dean with a makeup pad, trying to rub it against his face, but fails as he moves away. “Woah, what are you doing?”

Two fingers swipe across his cheek, making him look at his brother with some makeup on his fingers.

Dean looks at his reflection, bringing his hand up to his opposite cheek. “Oh my God. I’m a painted whore.”

The two get cleaned before they walk outside to see Misha.

“Hey, Cas, do you know what’s going on?” Dean asks.

Misha questions back of what Dean means as he goes through some pieces of paper.

Dean snatches the papers out of the man’s hands to go through it. “It’s words of a script.” He takes a closer look. “Misha?”

The brothers walk off to a car as someone had called out their ‘names’. “Misha? Jensen? What kinda of names are those?”

After being dropped off at their ‘home’, Sam opens the door to hear the TV going in the lounge.

Following the sound, they see (h/c) hair from the back rest of the couch.

Your Saint Bernard perks his head up to see who came in. Your head does the same.

A smile forms on your face.

Getting up from the couch, Sam and Dean take a step back, seeing that you’re the angel that tried to kill them several times.

“What?” They let you walk towards them to give them a peck on their lips.

“Uh, nothing.” Sam manages to get out.

You start to talk about the little adventures you and the dog had during the day as you cook them some food.

The brothers try to keep up with what you’re saying, but Sam is playing with Tony’s fur, for Dean, he’s just watching you move around with the smell of the food you’re cooking is hitting him in the face.

After minutes pass, the three of you are seated in the lounge, and Tony seated in between your legs, sniffing at your food.

“Tony, you had your food.” You move your upper body forward to nudge your nose against his.

“Dude, I think I’m in love.” Dean says quietly to Sam.

“Yeah, with the food.”

“Nah.” Dean speaks out with his mouth full. He swallows before saying, “Well, yeah. But, he’s not the evil angel he is. I mean, we don’t even own a dog. And what was up with the whole set up thing back there? Plus, I’m a painted whore.”

“In general, you are a whore.”

Sam whines as he gets a punch to the shoulder.

“Jens, why’d you hit him?”

“He’s being a pain.”

You chuckle as you stand up, grabbing their plates and going to the kitchen to put them on the counter. You dish up bowls of pie and ice cream.

Coming back with the bowls, Dean immediately has a smile on his face, taking the bowl happily as Sam thanks you.

“Hmmm.” Dean moans, mumbling away of how good the pie is. “Always loving the homemade pie as usual.”

“You made this?” Crumbs fall out of his mouth as he points the spoon to the food.

“Never let you watch me make it ‘cause I know that you’d try and steal a piece before Jared and I get any.”

Finishing up with the dessert and the dishes next to the plates from dinner, you’re seated in between the brothers to give them cuddles.

Sam has one of his hands buried in Tony’s fur as his other is intertwined with yours.

Minutes pass of watching what was on the TV and your head on Dean’s shoulder, you had fallen asleep.

“Totally not a evil angel.”

#supernatural #supernatural fluff #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester #sam winchester fluff #sam winchester fanfic #sam winchester x reader #dean x reader x sam #supernatural french mistake

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katfox · 4 years ago

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♡ Happy Birthday Jihyun xx♡

Summary: A sweet day for the birthday boy, and a present he'll never forget. ♡

Characters: Jihyun x Fem Mc/Reader.♡ Cameo: Jumin + Elizabeth III

Word count: 1000

He wakes up in the morning to the sweet smell of the fancy coffee Jumin had gifted him. Jihyun was a pretty simple guy, so it was hard to figure out the perfect gift for him. It was his birthday after all and he deserved something special, maybe homemade? You think of any potential presents- art, letters, baked goods, music, wine? The thought ran through your mind as you started pouring the coffee, a slight scream causing him to rush to your side. "Are you alright beautiful?" He looks at you holding your hand carefully as you had distractedly spilled coffee on yourself.

"Let me tend to y-", you cut him off feeling apologetic that you ruined his birthday breakfast in bed. You reluctantly let him as you didn't want to deny him anything on his birthday. He was so sweet and gentle, rubbing some cooling cream and bandaging it up careful before planting a kiss upon it. "Let's get back to your birthday breakfast, shall we?" You say with a faint smile. He agrees and let's you lead the way before he pulls out your chair like the gentleman he is.

In the midst of his special breakfast you think of doing something artistic as a gift for the birthday man in your life. You think about something that would be meaningful to him. He loves painting, photography, the sun, his friends, and you of course. The thought of giving him a plain self portrait had been done many times and you wanted to do something new, something a bit more unique. You finished the meal a little early before going to him, planting a soft kiss on his head.

You decide that maybe using your body will give him something to always think about. You actually laugh to yourself lightly at the thought that it'd be hung up in his studio, "nah.. haha." You grab the full length mirror and head to his home studio office, locking the door keeping him from exposing his birthday present. He can't deny his curiosity as you left without a word, but he also respects your space so he assumed you needed it. He headed to the bedroom to gather up some of his things for an upcoming work trip, which kept him pretty busy.

In the meantime you set a timer for the camera before working on your poses in the mirror to snap as many pictures as possible. You look around his office trying to find any props you can in order to add some oomph. Maybe some flowers or even paint itself, the thought of taking these photos made your heart race. Ah the photos progress your body start to grow flushed, the pinky hues along your skin added a sense of innocence to the artistically risque art. Picking a photo to base your present, on now that's where the real issue begins.

The picture was chosen after flipping through the collection repeatedly, before landing on the perfect one. You print out the picture in large pieces big enough to fill the large canvas set out. Once your figure was sketched out, you started your painting endeavor. Painting it turned out easier than you expected; you chose the colors that represented him the most. You lock up his office before heading for a shower, thankfully jumin has impeccable timing honestly.

Jihyun comes to the door to tell you the news of a little wine tasting on Jumin's charming vineyard. This was a good time seeing as though the painting needed to dry, so you went along with it. You wore a lovely, flowy dress and the sweetest sun hat he had picked up for you on his last trip. The ride to the vineyard was breathtakingly stunning, it was definitely a romantic scenic view. Walking through the vineyard however was so fresh and full of life, of course Jumin wouldn't have it any other way.

Wine tasting went smoothly and even Elizabeth was there so you had some snuggly company as the men conversed about the new wine collection. Being around them was endearing, you couldn't help but smile for their friendship. The time came for the two of you to depart while Jumin stayed a bit longer. You both talk about the experience in the car; Jihyun's raving about how Jumin has always been the best friend a person could ever hope for.

Once home you grabbed the love of your life, the sweetest man than was born on this very day many years ago. You couldn't have asked for a more gentler man and he's definitely the one to spend the rest of your life with. You bring him to his office, blindfolded of course for the teasing. He was nervously excited as always to see what you could've done for him this time. You take him into the room and loosen the scarf so he can regain vision.

You showed him the canvas it was almost the size of you, give or take a foot or so. The look on his face really said it all he was a bit flustered but he stared at it adoringly. He had no clue that you would've ever given him something so personal, created from your own two hands. He was so appreciative of it and didn't have many words upfront, but he would remind you every time he sees it how much he loves you. The rest of the night went comfortably, sweetly as you both cooked a romantic dinner to share.

As the night grew old a single pint of ice cream was split between you both, before you drifted off to sleep on the man you couldn't be without. He carried you to bed and tucked you in as he looked down at you. You looked so beautiful laying against his chest with your hair sprawled around. He whispers blissfully sweet nothings in your ear thanking you for one of the best gifts he'd cherish forever.

Bonus thought: Remember all the nudes left on the camera? Jihyun is definitely in for a surprise when he uses it next!♡

Thanks for reading

AN: I saw a picture of "thermal nudes" that is currently trending on Instagram and tiktok and used that as inspiration for this birthday story ♡ I hope you enjoyed it. ♡

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fangirlingtodeath513 · 5 years ago

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In honor of Avatar: The Last Airbender coming to Netflix, have a Destiel AU :D

read here on ao3

The tribe is buzzing for weeks before the Avatar’s arrival. It’s been a long time since they’ve had an Avatar from the Fire Nation, and not since before the Hundred Years War. The death of the last Avatar from the Fire Nation had sent the world spiraling into war, and Dean’s tribe had been decimated. He’d watched his own mother die at the hands of a deranged fire bender, and his father had been killed years later by a warring tribe. He and Sam had grown up homeless, living off what they could find until they stumbled upon Bobby and Ellen’s tribe one day. They’d been welcomed in like family despite being nothing more than two lost boys.

Still, as he dons his green attire and washes his face (at Ellen’s insistence), he’s excited. He’s never met an Avatar. This new Avatar, Castiel, is the same age as Dean—twenty-four, give or take a few months depending on when Castiel’s birthday is—and this is his grand introduction to the world. He’ll prove to the world that he’s mastered all four elements at the end of the month but for now, he’s making the rounds through all the different tribes around the world. This week, he’s visiting the different Earth tribes. He’s already seen some of them and Dean’s heard good things from friends in farther villages—he’s kind, he’s gorgeous, his smile is to die for—but he’ll make those judgments for himself. Hell, maybe this guy will spectacularly fail his demonstration at the end of the month, who knows.

“Don’t forget your face,” Ellen says with a smile as she stands in the doorway of his room, radiating pride. He smiles softly and hods up his washcloth to prove that he’s already washed his face. “No,” she says, laughing and holding up the tub of ink that Dean’s only seen a few times in passing. “It’s tradition, you, Sam, and Bobby will all be wearing it. Jo too. The Avatar wants to honor his fellow benders.”

Dean inclines his head just barely, then tilts his up and closes his eyes so Ellen can carefully paint the ink along the waterlines of his eyes, as well as in intricate swirls across his forehead and cheekbones. A quick look in the mirror when she’s done confirms that it’s a good look on him if he does say so himself.

The main area of the village isn’t far from the home they live in with Bobby and Ellen. Sam practices his bending on the walk there, three rocks swirling in the air over his hand, his face pursed in a look of utter concentration. It’s kind of adorable, even on an adult like Sam.

“You ready to see him?” Charlie whispers, elbowing Dean in the side. Dean glances at her and grins.

“Hell yeah. Never seen a fire bender in real life, much less and Avatar. Should be pretty cool. I just hope he’s not an asshole.”

Charlie laughs. “I’ve only ever heard good things. Anna wrote me a letter and said he’s dreamy, although I don’t think that’ll matter much to me,” she says with a giggle, eyes sliding over to meet Jo’s.

Dean just rolls his eyes and follows Bobby and Ellen to the main street, lining up along the side. He can already hear the horns announcing the arrival of the Fire Nation, so he slips into his bender stance—feet shoulder-width apart, hands clasped behind his back, head bowed respectfully.

He doesn’t peek until he can tell by the noise from the crowd that the Avatar is close. He tilts his head up a fraction so he can see the Avatar. His breath catches in his throat. All those rumors weren’t wrong. Avatar Castiel is so attractive that Dean thinks he could combust on the spot from being so attracted to him. Fitting, Castiel in a natural-born fire bender.

He quickly redirects his gaze to the ground. He’s not overly eager to be seen as disrespectful to the new Avatar, no matter how attractive he is or how badly Dean wants to continue watching the fluid movement of his lithe body, so carefully draped in the colors of the four elements. He’ll get a chance to drink his fill of the Avatar later tonight when they host his welcoming feast.

Dean’s family is hosting the feast since Bobby and Ellen are the tribe’s elders. They leave the welcome ceremony early to prepare, although most of the preparations were completed that morning. Dean helps set the table and lavish it with traditional earth kingdom dishes, everything from the delicious, homey stew that Ellen insists on making the minute anyone gets sick to the delicious, homemade ice cream the nearby water tribe taught them how to make. It’s the perfect mix of Dean’s home and the royal-level food the Avatar must be expecting by now. Guy’s lived in a temple for nearly a decade, no doubt he’s only been given the best.

Castiel arrives without any fanfare, which is shocking in and of itself, but it’s the traditional earth bender robes he’s wearing that really throws Dean off. It’s just Dean’s family in attendance, but he’d expected the Avatar to wear some fancy Avatar robes, or at least Fire Nation robes.

“Avatar Castiel. Welcome to the Singer tribe, we’re so honored we could host you,” Ellen says, bowing respectfully as Castiel turns his gaze to her. If Dean’s not mistaken, the Avatar blushes.

“I appreciate the hospitality, ma’am. It’s nice to be outside of the Fire Nation for once.” He smiles wryly, bowing his head in return. “Your home is lovely and everything smells…” he pauses, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he drinks in the scents swirling around their home. “Amazing,” he finally finishes, grinning as he opens his eyes.

“Please, have a seat, Avatar. Indulge in whatever you’d like.”

Castiel smiles softly. “I appreciate the respect, but it isn’t necessary. After you, please. You are the tribe elders, after all.”

Bobby and Ellen both seem taken aback, but they take their seats, and only then does Castiel take his. Dean, Sam, Jo, and Charlie settle into their own seats, each of them finding themselves caught by the scrutinizing gaze of the Avatar.

“You three are benders?” Castiel asks, eyes flickering between Sam, Dean, and Jo. The latter nods, grinning widely.

“Born and bred,” Jo confirms, nudging Dean’s shoulder. “These two stumbled into the tribe, but I guess they’re pretty cool.”

One of the candles on the table flickers out as Castiel reaches for a piece of bread and Dean watches in awe as the Avatar effortlessly relights it with a flick of his fingers. It seems like it’s barely a passing thought in Castiel’s brain, the fire just flickering from his fingers like an extension of himself. He supposes that’s how it is, though. Castiel was born with the ability to control fire, just like Dean was born to move earth.

“You seem out of your element,” Castiel continues with a small smile, eyes shifting to Charlie. The delicately drawn arrows swirling around her skin give away her bending ability and yeah, Castiel’s right. Charlie’s a long way from home, though she’s called this tribe her home for as long as Sam and Dean have been around.

“I was banished from my tribe when I was young. I had no interest in pursuing the study of air bending and they weren’t exactly pleased with that. The Singers took me in and taught me how to bend on my own terms.” She smiles, shooting a grateful glance across the table at Bobby and Ellen. “They’re good people.”

Castiel chuckles. “You seem to accumulate strays, I see. It’s noble of you.”

Their dinner passes in a mix of comfortable silence as they all eat and surface-level conversation regarding Castiel’s demonstration at the end of the month and what goes on from day to day in their tribe. Dean steals as many glances as he can because let’s face it, Castiel is gorgeous and he really doubts he’ll get to see the Avatar again, at least not up close like this. Might as well drink his fill now.

Except, once dinner is cleaned up and Ellen and Bobby have retired for the night after showing Castiel his quarters for the evening, Dean finds himself outside, alone with the Avatar. Castiel swirls a ball of fire in his hand absentmindedly, though he extinguishes it immediately when he notices Dean’s wary glances.

“Fire makes you uncomfortable.”

It isn’t a question, so Dean doesn’t answer. He’s not exactly inclined to spill his entire life story to this random man anyway, even if he is the Avatar. He hears Castiel huff a laugh beside him, and then the small rock pile in the corner of the yard is shaking, three rocks floating directly toward them. Dean catches them effortlessly, twirling his fingers to make the rocks spin in a circle above his palm.

“I wish earth bending was that easy for me,” Castiel admits with a sigh, leaning against the wall that surrounds Dean’s home. “It’s always been the hardest to bend, in my experience.”

Dean snorts. “Can’t exactly help you with that, Avatar. I only know how to bend earth, I’ve never known anything else.”

Castiel smiles. “It’s easier than you think, you know. Here, let me show you. Bending air isn’t dissimilar to bending earth.” He steps closer to Dean and holds out a hand. Dean watches him warily for a moment before extending his own hand in return. The Avatar is the only one that’s supposed to master all four elements, but Dean can’t help the thrill that runs through him at the prospect of learning to bend another element. He’s not even sure if it’s possible.

“You have a unique connection to the spirit world,” Castiel says, seemingly answering his question without Dean having asked it. “Has no one told you?”

Dean raises an eyebrow, skin tingling as Castiel finally takes his hand. “Told me what?”

Castiel hums. “In a previous life, you were an Avatar. An Avatar from the Air Temples.” He smiles softly, tilting his head. “Avatars are often reborn into tribes they struggled to master. Since you were an air bender, earth would have been the most difficult for you. I was a water bender in my previous life, hence my being a fire bender in this one.”

Dean scoffs. “I was an Avatar? That’s cute, Cas, but I don’t think it’s true.”

Castiel’s fingers skate along Dean’s palm. “I can show you, if you’d like.”

Dean hesitates, only for a moment, but what if… what if Castiel is right? His parents had died when he was young, and all of his other family had already died by that time. Anyone who would have known wouldn’t have been able to tell him. Is Castiel right?

“Show me.”

Castiel obliges, raising a hand to rest his fingers on Dean’s temple.

The effect is instantaneous. Dean is standing it what looks to be the distant past, watching the Avatar’s demonstration. She doesn’t look familiar, at least not at the moment, so he takes a seat and watches. Her form is shockingly good, although he’d expect nothing less from the Avatar. It’s not until he sees her eyes that he realizes who this is. He’s seen those eyes in the mirror every day of his entire life. This is him. It’s a little shocking to realize that he was a woman in another life, but watching her bend all four elements so effortlessly is astounding.

He’s pulled from the vision before he wants to be, but Castiel is standing in front of him with a small smile. “See? I wasn’t lying. I’m sorry your family never told you.”

Dean shrugs. “Not like they had the chance. Why are we both alive at the same time, then?”

Castiel hums. “We always have been, actually. When I was in the spirit world, they told me that you and I have always been alive at the same time, and we’ve both mastered the elements in the same lifetime. It was just a matter of whoever was found first became the Avatar. This time, it was me.”

Dean raises an eyebrow. “Then I can learn all four elements? Isn’t that… I don’t know, frowned upon?”

Castiel laughs. “Probably, yes, but I’ll teach you.” He smirks over at Dean. “What are they going to do, arrest me?”

Dean snorts. The Avatar actually has a sense of humor, go figure. “I suppose not. Don’t you have to leave, though?”

He shrugs. “I’ll come back if you’d like. I do need to continue my visits and complete my demonstration at the end of the month, but after that, I still haven’t found a place to stay permanently. This feels like as good a place as any.”

Dean hums thoughtfully. “I figured you’d return to the Fire Nation.”

Castiel waves that away almost instantly, face twisting with disgust. “Absolutely not. I hate it there. They kept me locked in a temple for a decade mastering the four elements instead of letting me visit the tribes that actually mastered them. They just brought me teachers that reinforced their belief that the Fire Nation is superior and I’m protecting the world only because the spirits have asked me to.”

“That sounds awful.”

“Perhaps,” he admits with a shrug. “Once I’ve completed my demonstration, I won’t have to return. I’m sure they’ll be surprised if I settle down outside of the Fire Nation, but I don’t exactly care.”

Dean smiles. “I’ll double-check with Ellen and Bobby but I doubt they’ll mind if you stay here. They might put you to work in the fields, though,” Dean says with a laugh.

Castiel smiles. “I look forward to it.”

Three weeks later, Castiel returns to Dean’s tribe and makes it his permanent home.

#profoundnet #deancasfanficnet #writersofdestiel #destiel #destiel fanfic #a: tla #my writing

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