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hoonhrt · 3 years

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MUSIC SHOP

: pairing — idol! heeseung x music store worker! reader

: genre — fluff

: album recc. — case study 01 by daniel caesar and any of the albums i mentioned throughout the story!

: a/n — this is a little more on the lengthier side so please know that before reading! (i couldn’t help myself i luv hee too much)

it was a slow day at the shop. the dim fairy lights hung around lowly, making the atmosphere feel even slower. you walked around the store pushing a small grey cart that held all the albums, records, and cassette tapes one could ever imagine of, placing everything in their correct spots for future consumers to find.

the sound of a faint bell was heard from the back of the store. where you were, indicating that someone had came in. you flatten out the front of your sweater and rush to greet the costumer. you are met with a tall man dressed in all black from head to toe, water droplets fell off the shoulder of his jacket and you make a mental note to mop the floor later.

“hello! welcome to moonshines music. please let me know if you need help with anything, i’ll be happy to assist!” you cheerfully exclaim. you welcome costumers with a joyful energy that even cheers them up, it was your thing. the costumer pulled down the black mask from his face and waited for you to react. he was a slightly astonished when a reaction never came. no gasps, no eyes widening, no realization of who he was. just you with a firm smile on your face waiting for him to walk away and start shopping. he eyes you for a little before nodding his head and makes his way to the direction of the CD albums.

he pondered this feeling for a little. he wasn’t used to not being recognized. i mean, everyone knows him. he was on ever magazine cover and topped all the charts with his music. his face was plastered on every product poster that covered the walls of the busy city. so how could you not? he thinks that maybe you didn’t want to scare him off or bother him with pictures and autographs, inflating his ego a little bit. but still, why did you not say anything?

“excuse me! do you mind helping me out?” you could hear his voice from across the store as he shouted for you. jogging from your previous to his still figure.

“how can i help you?” continuing on your energetic personality. he didn’t have a real reason to ask for help, he was just too intrigued by you and needed a reason to converse with you. he looks around the store frantically for a minuet before looking back behind him to the CD’s he initially walked towards. “can you choose an album for me?” he blurts in your face loudly.

this wasn’t the first time someone asked for music recommendations but he walked in with confidence so you assumed he was a man who knew his music. “uhh yes um— do you perhaps have favourite genre that you maybe like?” you question him. he just stares at you, his lips folded in with a blank expression on his face. he shakes his head no. you politely nod again, now even more conflicted with what to recommend. you trail your eyes around the store till you see through the window next to the door. the sky is crying, whilst gray clouds surround it. the streetlight emitting an orange hue that reflect the fallen rain drops on the glass and you suddenly remember the small drops of water that trickled down his jacket sleeve when he first entered the store.

walking behind him you scan for the letter D section and begin to search for the album. letting out a soft ‘hmm’ before pulling out the album and handing it to him. “Case Study 01 by Daniel Caesar. perfect for rainy days when you aren’t lost in your thoughts.” you end with a smile on your face. ‘so they really have no idea to who I am, huh’ he thinks to himself. he looks down at the album in his hands than looking back up at you. a gentle smile reaching his lips. he follows you to the cashier register and pushes the album towards you. “that’ll be $10.15! card or cash?” he whips out his wallet and takes out a credit card. you can’t help but notice it was a black card, a card only the richest of people have. you wonder how this man can be so rich and why he is buying from a tiny music store in the middle of a unknown area.

you’re pulled away from your thoughts when the sound of the machine goes off, indicating the purchase has gone through. you delicately place the album into a tiny bag and hand it over to him with glee. “enjoy the album sir! if you ever do comeback, let me know what you thought about it!” you say in a courteous manner. the young man now looks at you with a toothy grin on display for you to awe at. he nods in affirmation before exiting. the atmosphere becoming quiet again. you hoped to see that man again.

another week has rolled around. you hum under your breath a silly little tune from a song on one of your many playlists, sending another customer off a new record they seemed to be extremely excited about. your job wasn’t much but seeing people share the same love for music as you was something that never failed to make you love life. wiping down the cashier, you hear the door chime and see the same handsome man from last week. you catch a glimpse of the clear sky and the natural light of the sun from out the door as he enters.

“i LOVED that album! you described it literally perfectly, it fit the vibes of the weather sooo much but didn’t leave me agonizing about life like how the rain usually makes me feel.” it made you so happy and almost accomplished to have someone come back and praise you for your music choice. you were about to start telling him it was no big deal before he proposes, again, to choose another album for him. you look at him a little unsure, you honestly didn’t know what to give him this time and you were scared he wouldn’t like it this time. he can see the anxiety flush over your face but lets you know he is looking for something this time. “give me your childhood favourite album. like, you know every single lyric for every song on this album.” your eyes go wide as you practically jump towards the shelf. he giggles quietly, thinking how cute you looked.

you prance towards the shelf knowing exactly where it was. in your hands was the Up All Night by One Direction, you shove the album into his hands with a passionate smile. he looks at you and tries to hide his judgment from you, which doesn’t work as you can see his eyebrow arch up and study the album in slight disgust. “hey! i danced to this album every night before i went to sleep for 3 years as a kid okay? it’s my favourite album!” your bottom lip pushes out, gazing at him with eyes the resemble a cute puppy. he throws his head back lets out a laugh that you think you could listen to for hours on end.

just as the prior week, he passes you the album to scan through and pulls out his card to pay. he was about to make his way out before you stop him. “can I have your name?” you requested. you took a liking to the kind guy, he had a pretty face and laugh that you particularly enjoyed. he checks his phone and swiftly swipes through the millions of notifications he has, then gazing back up at you. a genuine look plastered on your face. a look that feigned innocence, kept promises, and truly enjoyed life for what it was. “heeseung. my name is heeseung.”

you tug the key out of the door lock with a little force. the moon created a source of light and comfort as you made your way away from the shop and towards the subway station. you worked longer than usual and fatigue was the only thing felt within your weak bones. a car pulled up next to you, the window rolled down and revealed the person that has been occupying your thoughts recently, heeseung.

“on your way home?” you nod. “hop in, i’ll drive you home, we can listen to some music while we’re at it.” now you usually don’t just get into random peoples car, but you trusted him. who else would listen One Direction because someone asked them to?

his car was black from top to bottom, mirroring his outfits that he always wore. the windows were tinted and it looked intimidating from the outside, but on the inside sat a doe-eyed boy with the prettiest smile to exist. heeseung’s hand reaches out to turn up the volume of the car sound system. the sound of Frank Ocean’s voice fills up the empty sound within his car. it was song you were unfamiliar with. you ask what song this was and he lets out a dramatic gasp, almost looking offended. “you DON’T know this song? I guess pretty people can have flaws huh,” he turns his head to watch you flush a pink shade that can still be seen despite the darkness. a sight he thinks is quiet lovable.

the car ride to your home lasted much shorter than you wished it did. you two talked about everything under the moon. favourite songs, old childhood friends, past lovers. heeseung enjoyed the fact that you didn’t know his career identity. to the world he was Lee Heeseung, world renowned singer and model, but to you he was just, heeseung. a young boy who loved music and loved the world involved around it. you made him feel like a regular person again.

as you open the car door to make way into the glass doors of your apartment complex, heeseung grabs your wrist and pulls you back into the car. “how about... i lend you my favourite album this time, and next week on—” he checks the schedule his manager sent him, “saturday at 6 pm, i pick you up and we can talk more about it hm?” he holds his phone towards you with a cheeky smile on his face. you shake your head in disbelief as you bit back a smile of your own that is creeping on to your face. “I’ll see you then, hee.” your heart skipping beats as you walk away from the running vehicle.

unbeknownst to you, an excited heeseung punches the air rapidly with excitement. he silently screams into the night like a kid. feeling as if he was on cloud 9 to have scored a date with someone who’s a) the most beautiful person he’s ever seen and b) someone who likes him for his truest self.

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oikawaplssteponme · 3 years

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Incomparable Beauty

pairing: Izuku Midoriya x fem! reader

ratings/warnings: sfw, mention of insecurities

genre/AU: fluff, light academia (?) [i highly recommend imagining Izuku in light academia fashion, including some glasses ;) ], aged up characters [third-years]

word count: ~3.4K

synopsis: The young and talented photographer, Izuku Midoriya, is searching for a muse for his next entry in an art gallery. Of course, there seems to be one person who inspires him most of all.

a/n: hi hi <3 shoutout to my lovely 🍥 and ☕️ anons for requesting/helping me figure out this izuku fluff! i am really proud of this so i hope you all like it <3 reblogs are super helpful and id love to hear your thoughts on it. enjoy xx

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Izuku Midoriya looked up at the golden-pink sky. He stared into the abyss, hoping to think of something worth capturing. He adjusted the thin glasses that rested upon his face. He sighed and sat up, grabbing his notebook. Inside were hundreds of scribbles, sketches, and ideas that never seemed good enough. He looked to his right, where his camera laid. He wished that it could just take the pictures itself and create something jaw dropping. Still, a camera is nothing without a photographer. Furthermore, a photographer is nothing without a muse.

Izuku gathered his things as he headed back inside, making his way to his dorm. He was frustrated. He only had one week left to submit something into the Tokyo Gallery for Promising Artists, and even then it wasn't a guarantee that he would be selected. Maybe he should send an old piece he thought. He did have a few that he was proud of, but unfortunately, none of them fit the required theme of the gallery.

Izuke had his hands full as he attempted to open his dorm room door. You were making your way up the stairs when you spotted him. Izuku dropped his notebook, loose pages now scattered across the floor. You rushed over.

“Great…” he sighed. You quietly began to pick up the sheets of papers. Izuku froze.

“Midoriya, here,” you smiled, handing him his notebook. His cheeks flushed a rosy pink. He took his notebook back with shaky hands.

“Thank you Y/N.”

“Is all that for the gallery? I heard that you were entering,” you smiled. Izuku chuckled.

“It is but by the looks of it, I won’t be submitting anything. I still haven't come up with anything good enough,” he explained.

“Well don’t be too hard on yourself. I’m sure inspiration will strike you soon enough,” you reassured him, “you’re a brilliant photographer after all.”

Izuku's face was now a bright red. He laughed nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

“T-Thank you again. Well-uh- goodnight Y/N.”

“Goodnight Izuku.”

You walked away to your dorm as Izuku entered his own. He set all his things down and began to fan his burning face. He has known you for about three years now, yet he still can’t find the courage to get closer to you. You flustered him to no end, without even trying. Your voice, your smile, your laugh, your heart; Midoriya simply couldn’t get enough. You were so beautiful in all ways possible.

Midoriya looked at the printed flair pinned to his wall.

Those interested in applying to the Tokyo Art Gallery must follow the theme below in order to be considered.

The prompt read as follows:

‘Capture beauty in its purest form.’

Beauty, thought Izuku. Almost everything is beautiful. The way the sun rises and falls each day is beautiful. How Inko called Izuku every night at exactly 7:30 was beautiful. The friendships that Izuku cherished were beautiful. Then, there was you. Izuku’s mind couldn’t help but wonder to the thought of you in relation to beauty. Now you were truly beautiful.

Izuku soon had an idea.

The following day you found yourself sitting on one of the garden benches. Your classes were finished and you decided that some fresh air might do you some good. You basked in the warm sunlight, as if you were a precious flower that needed it to survive.

Izuku figured that you would be in the academy garden, so he made his way over there. His camera hung around his neck as he held tightly onto his notebook. With a shaky hand, Izuku tapped your shoulder.

“H-Hi Y/N,” he smiled nervously. You greeted him happily, gesturing for him to join you on the bench.

“Hi! Something wrong?” you questioned. Izuku looked like he was sick.

“Oh no, nothing’s wrong. I just-uh- wanted to ask you something…”

“Alright, what is it?”

Izuku set down his notebook next to his side. He held his hands together staring at them.

“Could I take your picture for the Tokyo Gallery?”

Your eyes widened at his request. The best and most handsome photographer in all of UA Academy of the Arts wanted to take your picture.

“You want to take a picture of me? I-I’m no model Izuku…”

“You’ll do great! I have this idea in my mind and it has to be with you.”

Now you were the nervous one. You weren’t one who particularly liked getting their picture taken.

“What if I mess it up? I’d hate to be the reason you don’t get accepted…”

“If those critics reject me, they’re just dumb. I promise it would have nothing to do with you. Please Y/N?” Izuku carefully took your hand with his and stared deep into your eyes. Gosh, how could you say no to him when he looked at you like that.

“Okay, I’ll do it,” you smiled. Izuku squeezed your hand and jumped up from where he sat.

“Thank you Y/N! I promise it will be perfect. Mind if we shoot tomorrow?”

“That sounds good to me.” Izuku smiled so brightly he outshined the sun. He grabbed his things once more.

“Meet me here at noon tomorrow. Try to wear a neutral colored shirt, okay?” he said. You nodded.

“Okay.”

Izuku ran off, leaving you alone in the garden. You soon felt a large pit in the bottom of your stomach.

You stood before the full length mirror of your dorm. You stepped closer to it, examining every detail of you being. A photoshoot? Not only that, but a photoshoot of just you. No way to hide behind anyone or fade into the background. It would be a picture of you. The pit in your stomach only grew. You stared into the mirror, almost hoping the reflection would change into someone else. Someone who would appear beautiful in an enlarged image. Certainly Izuku could’ve asked any other girl to be his model, but insisted that it had to be you. You didn’t understand why. You didn’t view yourself as beautiful in any form. So how could he?

It was close to noon and you should be heading to the garden to meet Izuku. You put on a neutral colored tank top as Izuku requested and finished applying some natural makeup. Your hands shook as you held the brushes. Hopefully your nerves would cease by the time you got to the garden.

Izuku had been setting up since early in the morning. He created a handmade crown of white baby’s breath for you to wear and arranged his backdrop. He set up his lighting and sun reflectors exactly where he wanted. You had been standing by one of the bushes for a few minutes, afraid to interrupt him. He was so in his element. The sleeves to his button down rolled up to his elbows. His dark sunglasses covering his eyes. His beige colored paints stained green at the hem from working in the grass, same with his off-white sneakers. You honestly thought he looked beautiful.

“Hi Izuku,” you said. Izuku jumped then turned to look at you.

“Oh Y/N you’re here, perfect! Y-You look great,” he smiled. Your face grew warm.

“Oh thank you. So, what’s the plan?” Izuku moved his sunglasses to his forehead, pushing back his fluffy green hair.

“So, your job is fairly simple. I’m gonna have you sit on this stool and hold onto this bouquet of flowers. Since it's just me out here I’ll be messing around with the equipment until I find the right lighting and all that. All you need to do is keep the pose I tell you to, okay?” he explained. You nodded.

“What is the theme for this year’s gallery?” you asked. Midoriya flinched.

“Oh it’s um...nature…” he muttered. Nature? Why doesn’t he just take a picture of a tree and call it good? What does he need you for, you wondered.

Izuku set down the stool in front of the garden wall and you sat down. He grabbed the bouquet and handed it to you. He then placed the crown uptop of your head. He carefully arranged it to rest effortlessly on you. His nimble fingers were delicate as they touched your head, then moved to your cheek without him thinking. Izuku’s index finger now rested under your chin as you looked up at him. With a burning face and widened eyes, you wished to never look away. Out of flustering embarrassment, Izuku took his hand back.

“Yeah um so for the pose I’d like you to be looking slightly to the side with your chin tilted up just as I had it. Then with the flowers have them close to your cheek. I’ll probably tell you to switch out poses here and there but that's a good place to start. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Izuku walked back and grabbed his camera. Your heart was pounding out of your chest. You tried to keep yourself calm with a few deep breaths.

“Ready?” asked Izuku. You nodded.

“Ready.”

The first click of the camera and flashing lights was the most startling. You soon got used to it, following whatever instructions Izuku gave you. You moved your head and hand placement, soon feeling more comfortable with everything.

“Yes that's perfect...keep doing that…” Izuku blurted out whatever thoughts came to his mind as he captured you on film. His encouragement was honestly what made your heart race.

“Now lower the bouquet so I can see your pretty face…yeah just like that Y/N…”

Midoriya didn’t even realize what he had said until the words left his mouth, but he didn’t care. He meant it.

“Okay now open your eyes and look slightly towards me, parting your lips a bit…”

Izuku snapped the picture then froze. He looked down at the small digital image.

“So beautiful…”

“Hmm?” You questioned. Izuku snapped out of the trance that he was in. He chuckled nervously.

“OH-the pictures look really good that's all. I think we are good,” he said. You let out a sigh.

“Oh good. That was honestly pretty exhausting.”

“I really appreciate you letting me use you for the gallery. I already know the final product is gonna turn out amazing,” he cheered. You smiled.

“It’ll be amazing because you are amazing,” you said. Izuku blushed.

“So are you.”

You took off the crown and returned the flowers to Midoriya. You helped him put away his equipment before the two of you headed back inside.

“Um Y/N, did you maybe want to grab something to eat?” he asked. You smiled.

“I’d love to, just let me change first,” you chuckled.

“Oh yeah of course.”

You dropped off the equipment at Izuku’s dorm before heading to your own. You slipped on a green sweater and some sweatpants before finding him again.

You and Izuku went to the dinning hall, each of you picking up a bowl of ramen. You decided to eat outside on the balcony.

“How do you think the pictures turned out?” you asked.

“Honestly, really good. You did amazing,” he smiled. You looked down at your food.

“I was honestly super nervous for them. Couldn’t you tell?”

“Not at all! You were a natural out there! I really think this will be some of my best work yet,” said Izuku.

“I’d love to go to the gallery with you,” you whispered. Izuku’s eyes widened.

“I was planning on taking you regardless,” he replied, “thank you by the way.”

You tilted your head.

“For what?”

“For always believing in me. I probably wouldn’t be a photographer if it weren’t for you.”

In Izuku’s first year, he was at the bottom of his class. He knew he wanted to do photography, but couldn’t seem to get the hang of it. He was so frustrated one day that he even said that he would be dropping out and quitting forever. You convinced him not to, to keep trying. You saw his talent when no one else could. Even when he couldn’t. From that day forward, Izuku worked to become the best young photographer in all of the Shizuoka Prefecture.

“Well I knew that you could do it, and I was right,” you teased.

“You’re great Y/N, seriously,” he said. You looked at Izuku, your face growing hot.

“I don’t know about that…”

“What? Come on, you’re smart, you’re kind, you’re talented, and you always seem to know what to say. You’re incomparable.”

“To what?”

“To anything. You’re incomparable to anything because you’re you.”

Midoriya had to stop himself from saying anymore, for fear of spilling his whole heart before you. He meant it however. Nobody compares to you.

You swirled your noodles around in their bowl. The pounding in your chest came back. You locked eyes with Izuku.

“You’re incomparable too.”

Izuku spent every waking moment arranging his piece for submission to the gallery. He was always found in the art room, either photoshopping or preparing the flowers to be pressed. Once the image of you was edited to his liking, he developed a large scale version of the picture. He enjoyed putting the pieces together. From hand pressing the flowers to finding the perfect frame to keep it all in, he has created a masterpiece. All thanks to his muse.

You roamed the empty halls of the school in search of Izuku. You hadn’t seen him all day, assuming he would be in the art room. It was late, he honestly should be asleep. You stood in front of the art room door and carefully opened it up.

Izuku was fast asleep on one of the desks. The large photograph was wrapped and ready to be sent to Tokyo. You quietly walked over to him, tapping his shoulder.

“Izuku? It's late, you should go to your dorm,” you whispered. Izuku groaned. He opened his eyes and stretched his arms out.

“What time is it?” he yawned. You chuckled.

“Close to eleven. You should get some actual rest. You have to go to Tokyo pretty early tomorrow.”

“R-Right...the gallery…”

You could hear the exhaustion behind his voice. You grabbed his hand, helping him up.

“Come on, let's go.” You held Izuku’s hand as he lazily walked to the dorms. You led him to his room.

“Goodnight Y/N…”

“Goodnight Izuku,” you smiled. Izuku scratched his messy hair, giving you a weak smile. Without thinking, you leaned in placing a quick kiss on his cheek, before rushing to your own dorm.

Izuku stared at the letter on his desk. He had received it hours ago yet was too nervous to check. It was addressed to him by the Tokyo Art Gallery.

He took a deep breath and grabbed the letter opener from his desk, carefully gliding it across the envelope. He took out the folder paper and opened it up. Izuku ran to your room.

You jumped from your bed when you heard the pounding on your door.

“Izuku? Everything okay?”

He didn’t say anything, simply handing you the letter.

“Is this…?”

“Read it.”

You caught your breath, peaking at the paper.

‘Dear Mr. Midoriya,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into the Tokyo Art Gallery for Promising Artists! Your piece titled…’

You didn’t finish reading the letter. Instead, you jumped into Izuku’s arms.

“I knew you’d make it! I’m so proud of you!” you cheered. Izuku hugged you tightly, laughing with joy.

“It’s all thanks to you, I couldn’t do it without you,” he whispered. You looked at Izuku, your hands on his shoulder as he held onto your waist. His face blushed red.

“Oh sorry-” he mumbled, removing his grip from you. Your face burned.

“I-It’s okay...congratulations Izuku. You did it,” you smiled. Izuku took your hand, giving it a squeeze.

“We did it.”

It was the day of the gallery showing. You were beyond excited to see all the beautiful artwork, specifically Izuku’s. You still hadn’t seen the final product.

You were dressed and ready, waiting for Izuku.

“Sorry I’m late-”

Izuku came rushing down the stairs to meet you. He looked devilishly handsome in his light grey suit and black turtleneck underneath. He prompted for some beat up black sneakers today.

“That's alright… you look nice,” you smiled. Izuku blushed.

“Says you..you look...wow…” He could barely form a sentence you were so breathtaking.

“Oh stop…”

“Shall we?” Izuku held out his arm for you to take. You did happily.

“We shall.”

The two of you rode the train to Tokyo, arriving at the gallery just before it was open to the public.

“Mr. Midoriya,” said one of the gallery workers, “your art is on the third floor.”

“Thank you.” You and Izuku made your way up the stairs, searching the room for the photo.

“Oh here it is,” smiled Izuku. The large photo was covered up and had velvet rope to stop anyone from getting too close.

“Wow, they must’ve liked yours!” you exclaimed. Izuku blushed.

“Well I didn’t tell you but it actually got nominated for best portrait of the gallery…”

“WHAT? Izuku, that's amazing!” you gushed.

“Yeah so some judges will take a look at it later on and hopefully we win…”

“Doesn’t matter if we win or not. I know it's the best one here,” you smiled.

You soon heard footsteps make their way up to the third floor.

“Showtime,” whispered Izuku. You took a step back from the portrait and watched as Izuku removed the curtain that covered it. The room filled with awes.

Izuku decided to go with the last picture that he took, the one where you seemed to have taken his breath away. You were entirely in black and white, only color coming from the flowers atop of your head and in your hand. Also, the pressed flowers that surrounded you. Izuku covered up the garden wall with pressed roses, daisies, lilies, and sunflowers. You looked like an angel.

You took a few steps towards the picture, reading its title.

‘Incomparable Beauty’ - Izuku Midoriya

You couldn’t seem to find the words, none of them seemed to be right. You backed away from the portrait before bumping into someone.

“Oh I’m sorry-” you said. They smiled.

“Don’t worry about it. Wait...you’re the model in that photo,” they replied. You gulped.

“Um yeah I am…”

“Well tell your photographer that they did an excellent job, really captured the gallery theme.”

“The nature theme?” you questioned. They tilted their head.

“No, the theme was ‘Beauty in its Purest Form’. Really great work.”

Your eyes widened.

“Uh-excuse me-”

You began to shuffle through the crowd of people. Izuku noticed you make your way towards the exit.

“Y/N? Y/N!”

Izuku followed you down the stairs. You rushed outside, breathing in the fresh air. Izuku grabbed onto your arm.

“Y/N what's wrong?” pleaded Izuku, “did you not like it?”

You shook your head. Tears began to gather in the corners of your eyes.

“No Izuku, I loved it. I really loved it,” you sniffled. Midoriya felt a wave of relief wash over him.

“Why did you run?”

“Because...I didn’t recognize myself...I looked-”

“Beautiful. You look beautiful,” he interrupted.

“Y-You think I’m beautiful?” you cried. Izuku wiped away your stray tears.

“Y/N, I think you are the most beautiful girl in the world, inside and out. Y-You’re my muse.”

Izuku cupped your face as you tried to hold back anymore tears.

“You made me look beautiful…”

“No Y/N, you are beautiful. I simply clicked the camera.”

Izuku pulled you into a tight hug, holding the back of your head gently. There was something about the way Izuku made you feel. As if you were the only girl in the world.

“I love you,” you whispered. Izuku’s eyes grew. He moved to face you, a smile creeping onto his face.

“I love you.”

Izuku placed his hand onto your cheek, feeling your soft skin. He began to inch closer to you. You couldn’t wait anymore, the anticipation killing you. You collided your lips with his, wrapping your arms around him. He had one hand on the small of your back as the other held the back of your head. Izuku took mental pictures of this moment, wishing to relive it over and over again. The warmth between the two of you in contrast to the cold air that surrounded you. It was a tornado of emotions.

You looked at Izuku, both of your faces burning and you attempted to catch your breath. You pressed your foreheads together, chuckling softly. Izuku kissed your forehead.

“You really are incomparable.”

•

[MHA taglist: @bibly @big-phat-cat @sapphoscolonoscopy @luluwiie @happyheartsss @lealofsblog @iwaisa @bakugousmymassa @evivn1 @tetsoleil @bokutory @vangoghmusings @moonlightaangel @misszenin @marajillana @sopesmin @alaina-rose13 @shotoful @runrabbitrun3 @katlingclaw @nerdypuppytimemachine ]

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saladejin · 3 years

Text

Admire | 07

Seokjin x Fem!Reader | arranged marriage!au, husband!Seokjin | Strangers to lovers, angst, self discovery, loneliness in luxury, touch starvation (eventual smut), eventual domestic fluff

Summary: You’d never needed anyone else. Growing up alone, living alone, existing alone. It all came naturally and effortlessly, quite like breathing. That was until your somewhat distant parents finally decided it was time to make good on a promise. One they’d made before you were even born.

Warnings: Things are getting a lil saucier

Word Count: 5k

A/N: Whew, finally we’re up to date. I FINALLY got around to re-editing and revamping this latest chapter, but once again I’m sorry for the delay on it. Now I can start focusing on my wips :))

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The driver bid you both a chaste farewell and soon you were making your way up to house both of you had grown used to sharing. These days, it was simply your safe space, a place you’d slowly begun to warm up to, where you could live and work peacefully in the unimposing presence of your husband, who worked equally as hard for his family.

This was your place to finally belong, the stupidly large mansion that could house ten more of you plus your family with ease, but alas it was still your mansion.

Our … mansion.

You couldn’t recall the moment where you’d begun to think of it as a home rather than a house. In your mind, it wasn’t really the house itself, but rather the people who lived there that made it a place you could truly call home.

You looked over to Seokjin and suppressed a sigh of built up emotion. The man was currently bringing most of the bags inside without a hitch, making use of his broad shoulders and hauling weight as if he weren’t wielding enough hierarchical power to get it brought in for him by the driver. Watching the scene only reminded you of how much had changed during your time away.

For one, Seokjin had shocked you with how easily he’d adapted to the different atmosphere and routine. There were no complaints from him about accommodation, food, or even the over-the-top rowdiness and friendliness of the company. He’d taken it all on board with a curiosity you honestly found adorable, and even adopted some of the various mannerisms. Watching him carrying all the luggage inside was just an example of his new way of living, one you chose to call ‘like a normal person’.

You were also growing closer somehow. The usually stoic man had opened up significantly, and you were discovering new things about him just as quickly as he discovered them himself. For instance, he found an enjoyment for cooking after helping some of the uncles with their traditional barbeque, he’d shown interest in acquiring a guitar for himself as soon as he could, and he was becoming more talkative as he began relaxing his hold on the professional barrier between you.

It was as if he was finally allowing himself to live the kind of life he always wanted. No luxurious parties, no expectations, no having to save face with every public outing. You were a messy mixture of nerves, uneasiness, and excitement at the prospect of getting to know Seokjin for who he was.

He had to discover who he was first, though.

“Dinner will be delivered soon.” His voice filtered out from the kitchen area distantly, and only then you realised you’d been standing in the front entrance in a daze. Lost in your thoughts like a fool. Even so, it was hard to miss the odd note hidden deep within his tired voice.

“Why do you sound disappointed? Is it not what you wanted?” you queried while leaving your bags at the front door for someone to collect later. You made your way into the living room with probing eyes, trying to find where his voice was coming from before spotting his black mop of hair scattered on the back of the lounge.

He didn’t respond at first, only met your gaze with his own investigative ones. You sat down heavily on the other lounge with a sharp exhale. Seokjin drummed his fingers against the leather while lifting one leg to cross over the other elegantly, and you knew he was just trying to avoid talking about what was on his mind.

“You can tell me, you know.” You rolled your eyes at his silence.

He ran both hands through his hair roughly and you almost felt breathless at how messy he’d made himself, like he’d just rolled out of bed. Considering you were both still in your casual clothing from the road trip, it was a sight that made your whole body tingle with a fondness you couldn’t explain. You were just beginning to see more of his hidden personality, and that made you happy in some indescribable way.

“I don’t know, I was hoping to actually try and cook something for once. Like hyung was telling me…”

“Oh? there’s that word again,” you chuckled, trying to ignore the happy swell in your chest after hearing that he wanted to try cooking the same things from a few nights ago, “and you can get the grill out tomorrow night if you want.”

“Hmm, I’ll see how I feel. Anyway, what word?” he asked while sitting back and continuing to run his hand through his hair lazily, expression puzzled. You felt so annoyed at the longing you felt to be the one doing it for him. You had been wondering what his silky looking tresses had felt like for the longest time.

“Is it ‘hyung’?” You smiled in embarrassment, mouthing out the word carefully to try and pronounce it in an acceptable manner at least, though you could never hope to sound fluent right off the bat. Seokjin’s eyes fell to you as the word left your lips, the small lifting of his cheeks being the only hint that he was trying to suppress his amusement. The way his cocoa coloured eyes sparkled at the sound of his native tongue made your heart squirm.

“It’s a good attempt, but no it’s pronounced more like ‘hyeong’. Try it.”

“Hyung.”

“Yeah, that’s … better.”

You hid your grin with the back of your hand, eyebrows shooting up at his unsure sounding feedback. He even managed to crack a tiny smirk of his own, his full lips making him look even more model-like under the soft lighting of your living room.

“Hey, how am I meant to get it perfect straight away? Besides, I forgot what it means already,” you huffed, and brought your legs to tuck comfortably underneath you.

“It’s just a term we use to refer to older males,” he explained, letting his head fall back against the seat slowly. Seeing his eyes fluttering to a close made you wonder how tired he must’ve been feeling. After spending so much time interacting with strangers, and driving, and pretending to be your husband, you supposed.

The jarring noise of the doorbell brought you to your feet, and you went to collect your dinner from the front door as Seokjin gave a quiet nod.

Now that he’s brought it up, I think I’d prefer a home cooked meal too.

“So, am I meant to call you ‘hyung’?” You laughed inwardly while making your way back to him. You were excited to learn more about him now that he was opening up and unfurling in front of your eyes.

He had to purse his lips slightly to avoid smiling again. “No, and please don’t. It would feel way too odd to hear that from you.”

“Oh.” Your heart cracked a little, thinking of course he wouldn’t want his foreign partner to try and so poorly imitate something such as his native language, something he considered close to his heart and home. “Ah, sorry. I didn’t think-”

“It’s okay, it’s just that Korean women don’t use ‘hyung’. If you are female and want to refer to an older male, or partner…” He seemed to hesitate, as if rethinking his decision to elaborate on the subject at all. “Then you can call m- you can use ‘oppa’.”

You swallowed a mouthful of steak before attempting to copy him. “Oppa?”

Seokjin blinked before giving you a tiny nod. Not a single second passed before he was focusing back on his food, the conversation apparently hitting a weird place for him.

“I don’t have to go around calling you that. It’s not like I’m trying to adopt another culture,” you clarified for him, noting how his shoulders seemed to relax at your gentle tone. “I only want to understand you better, Seokjin.”

His hands faltered in their movements to cut the tender steak on his plate. You didn’t catch any change in his expression, as expected, but his eyes gleamed with something you could only describe as appreciation. A few months ago, neither of you probably thought you’d end up sharing your ethnic differences with one another over dinner like this.

The house had always been so silent with just the two of you, and your mind kept thinking back to your old home where there were always maids, cooks and butlers milling about. It struck you as a little peculiar, so you decided to ask.

“Sorry to change the subject, but why is it that your mother requested there to be no live-in staff here?”

Seokjin continued to eat slowly but looked up with a thoughtful gleam in his eye. “I was confused too, but she always brushed it off. Something about family traditions requiring minimal interferences? I didn’t really get it since I’d never heard of said ‘tradition’, but I never really understood her methods anyway.”

Oh…

Your face burned as you understood what he was saying. It was almost laughable, how oblivious he was to his mother’s implications. The thought probably never crossed his mind that she could be referring to the two of you having sexual relations in some way. Well, why should the thought cross his mind?

This was never meant to be anything more than a fake relationship, an array of masks worn only to fool them into believing it was true. It was easy to understand why his mother would think accordingly. You had been trying to trick her, but perhaps you’d been just a little too convincing.

“Yeah, weird huh?” You cleared your throat, offering to take up his dish as you both finished off the meals. The case of the understaffing was forgotten as you moved back to where your husband was half sprawled on the couch, but now the quiet hum of the television accompanied the room and you were thankful to have something filling the silence. Even if it was something was simple as slightly muffled voices from the people on the big screen.

You plonked back down on the leather and felt relaxation crawl up your spine in the best way. You were slowly beginning to believe that there was almost nothing better than this. Spending a night at home with someone you cared about, watching a movie or TV show, nice and warm and comfortable.

You briefly registered that in your current position, Seokjin’s arm that’d been outstretched along the back of the seat now rested just behind your neck. You thought nothing of it, knowing he sure as hell wouldn’t, but let your imagination take the reins at all the possibilities presenting themselves.

Imagining a smile tugging at his lips as he brought his arm down to drape across your shoulders. His warm hand as it cupped your jaw, a gentle thumb drawing tiny circles into the flushing skin along your cheekbone. You imagined the feeling of your smaller hand travelling up the hardened expanse of his clothed chest, feeling the lean muscle and taut ridges underneath the flimsy barrier separating skin from skin.

You felt your face flush further in surprise when your daydream was snapped away into thin air, the cushion underneath you squeaking as he suddenly moved from his slumped position.

“I’m about ready to call it a night. The driving must’ve taken more out of me than I thought,” he said while sporting a grunt of effort, his face wincing at the pop of his joints once he stretched his long legs out. As he brought his arm inwards to follow suit, you felt the slightest brush of his fingers graze your neck. The small shudder that racked your body from the sensation was instantaneous, and you knew that your shameless imagination from earlier had made the cravings for his touch worse.

Unintentionally, your body shifted to try and follow his hand before you managed to will yourself into a stiff, unmoving statue.

Shit, what was that?

You closed your eyes and blew out your cheeks in annoyance, directed at nobody but yourself. Was it really all becoming too much for you the handle at this point? When had you become so … pathetic and needy? This wasn’t like you at all.

It was only then you realised Seokjin hadn’t moved since your loss of inhibitions. You wrenched your eyes open and glanced over to him, knowing full well that his observant gaze had seen the entire display from beginning to end. Oh God no!

“(Y/n), I’ve been thinking,” came Seokjin’s voice through the robotic sounding laughs emitting from the speakers of the television. He was holding his arm awkwardly in the air just above his own lap, as if it had been electrocuted and was no longer capable of moving.

“About what? Oh, when is our next event? I forgot to ask you earlier,” you uttered faintly, trying to cover up your reddening face with one hand. There was no way he was going to let what happened slide, you knew just by seeing the pointed look in his curious dark eyes. He lowered his arm and kept his eyes fixated on your jittery form.

“Not for ages, but anyway that’s not what I was thinking about,” he said with a lazy mumble to his voice that was honestly just a little too low, teetering on seductive but obviously unintentional.

You mentally implored him to forget your stupid reactions. It was getting out of hand and you were already trying your best to rein yourself in.

“Oh?” You raised a brow, waiting for the inevitable questioning that was surely coming your way.

In all honesty, you just wanted to go shower and sleep for the next week. During the trip you’d had so many restless nights, being too caught up on the whole sharing a bed situation. It got better as time went on, but you still couldn’t shake the feeling that you weren’t meant to be there in between the sheets with him. Every time, you held yourself back from the urge to touch him and shuffle closer to his side.

Rein it in. Rein-

Seokjin finally parted his lips in to respond, “It’s just that I can’t help noticing how you get lost in your thoughts lately, along with all the other odd reactions. You keep getting this look on your face, like you’re longing for something, and I can’t help but think back to what you were saying at Taehyung’s party.”

Okay, well this was a bit more than you expected. You felt shivers of humiliation travelling up your skin at the thought of him noticing your fantasizing, of all things. Were you really becoming that obvious even in a state of subconscious? Damn, things were really worse than you thought.

“What? At Tae’s party?” you murmured, trying to awkwardly laugh it off in the process. How did he manage to call you out like that with the straightest of faces? It was almost unfair that he could be so serious and not become affected by these things.

“Yeah,” Seokjin continued. “How you said you craved human touch all the time because the way you grew up left you wanting. I realised during the trip, how content you looked when you were receiving affection from your family members … and me.”

You snapped your eyes up to him, looking to see if his expression would give anything away about what he was thinking even though you knew it was futile. To your shock, his face actually wasn’t the same blank slate you were used to seeing when he pondered. For the first time, you saw him show slight apprehension as he nibbled on his plush bottom lip.

‘And me’ he’d said. You were suddenly thrown back to that one night in the motorhome, which honestly seemed like a mere fever dream, where he’d run his hands along your body and held you close for the first time. That first night you had shared the same bed, and all the dams had broken within you.

It was the night I opened up to him, and maybe that was when he decided to do the same.

“So, I want-”

He cut himself off and sat forward, looking so bewildered and lost that you were beginning to grow concerned. At the recollection of all these memories, you were already feeling vulnerable and ashamed. His vagueness was not helping you keep your shit together.

“I want you to show me what you mean. What are you asking for when you say those things?” He finished by clasping his hands together and looking up at you as hopefully as he could, which was minimal for him. You couldn’t really believe your ears at this point.

“Show you?” you repeated in disbelief. “H-how?”

“Show me what you need,” he rephrased, straightening his back slightly and fiddling with his fingers.

It was a cute little habit you’d never seen before, but your brain could barely register that when you were already reeling from what he was saying. He was close enough that you could catch the scent of his faint cologne, and it was making your head spin faster and faster. The quiet sound of the television faded out as you focused on his beautiful eyes right in front of you.

“You want me to touch you?” You tilted your head, feeling like you were having an out-of-body experience when he nodded to confirm your suspicions.

“If that’s what you want.”

It was strange, not knowing whether to feel happy or whether to feel humiliated, or relieved, or even saddened; all because of your neediness that he’d seen way too many times.

“Okay.”

Your shoulders sagged in a strange sense of defeat. This whole impasse had been your weakness from the start, and now it was finally coming to light. You were ready to help him understand things from your point of view, and maybe he would start to see why you’d been acting this way.

He’d grown up in a similar environment, even despite some stark differences. Why couldn’t there be just a small chance that he might relate somehow?

“What do you feel when you get close to another person?” you asked softly, untangling your feet from under each other and resting them squarely on the ground in front of you. It was intimidating to look up at his looming figure this boldly, yet being so close to his body heat only seemed to put you more at ease.

You wanted to fall into him and have him cradle you in his arms, but you knew that if you were going to show him the right way, you needed to take it slow.

“I don’t feel so different. It doesn’t happen often, actually,” he mused while keeping his eyes focused on you. “When I see my mother at galas or balls, I suppose it just feels like I want to get away.”

You stifled a chuckle at the thought of his mother’s smothering putting him off. It was like that for so many kids out there, but you couldn’t share that feeling when it was lucky for you to even see your mother once in a while. Seokjin’s tensed frame seem to falter slightly when you knowingly smiled up at him. Gone was the shyness, the tiptoeing, the never-ending feeling of restraint.

This was your husband in front of you, and now he was asking you to touch him.

“That’s understandable Seokjin, but I mean in other instances where it’s perhaps more welcomed, or even instigated mainly by you. Say, you see your brother after a long time, so you hug him. Yes?”

The man’s black hair bounced slightly as he nodded. You hadn’t made any moves to be closer to him yet, and you could sense his confusion, but truly it was best to go gradual for him to understand. Rather than you just throwing yourself at him in a barrage of limbs.

“How does that make you feel, compared to how you feel normally?” you tried again, your eyes wide with a curiosity that probably burned even brighter than his. A month or so ago, you never would’ve thought you’d be having such a close and intimate conversation about his relationships.

Clearly, the road trip had not only changed you both in multiple ways, but it had also changed the very dynamic tying you together. The foundations of your relationship, and what it meant to each of you. The man sitting before you now was nothing but a far cry from the man you’d once faced at the altar. As foolish as it was, you could not be prouder of him.

“I suppose I was taught to just do it in certain situations. I never thought about how it made me feel,” he offered in a low voice, brows furrowing as he tried thinking about how he could be more helpful. The slight pout to his pinkish lips had your heart beating erratically.

“Seokjin, do you care about me?” you asked, and time drew to a stop.

This was the kind of question you told yourself you would never ask him. It was almost impossible to answer considering your circumstances, and the owlish look in his eyes told you that you were right in thinking so.

“Yes.”

Your world resumed spinning, but the silence continued. Honestly, you didn’t think you would have kept it together if he’d answered no. You loved him, that much you were sure of, but before the holiday you had been confused about whether you cared for the man so strongly out of your pure desire for close friendship and companionship. You weren’t dense though. These feelings were far more than that, and you were an idiot for entertaining them.

You stared into each other’s eyes, trying to read foreign minds and figure out what it all meant. He cared about you, and you cared about him. That much was a given, but the true depth of that fact remained a constant unknown. He exhaled sharply, almost as if he couldn’t really believe he’d answered so sincerely. So quickly.

“I didn’t think I would, but since the beginning you’ve turned out to be quite different than who I thought I’d be married to. My life … changed, but it was seamless and easy compared to the complicated mess I thought I was going to have to deal with,” he explained with sad eyes. His gaze had been trained on the floor since he’d given you ‘yes’ as an answer.

You shifted closer and brought one hand up to lift his lowered jaw, angling it to face you so you could see his inquisitive eyes once more. His large hands remained clenched in his lap, unsure of what to do at this point.

“Seokjin I care about you too, so you don’t have to feel like you’re on your own here.” You laughed quietly, noticing his shoulders relax as you moved your hand up to rest on the side of his face. Your fingertips buried themselves into the shorter strands of his hair.

If only he knew the true extent of my feelings.

You cleared your throat, trying to push away the intrusive thoughts before they took over, and switched your teacher mode on quickly. “This is a … type of contact that you can kind of do anytime, and you can even play with the person’s hair, or just kind of massaging gently.”

You demonstrated by slowly bringing your hands up to run through his marvelous black locks, lips parting in amazement at the feeling of his soft hair you’d always imagined combing back with your fingers. Your other hand shaped itself to his face as you tried your best to stop yourself from leaning any further forward.

You couldn’t kiss him like this just yet. Not when it would actually mean something to him, for the first time.

“Why do you say ‘the person’s’? You know I wouldn’t have the nerve to try this with anyone else, right?” He murmured unexpectedly; his eyes somewhat nervous at what you were implying. You were quick to push your surprise away and nodded, because it was the only response you could think of.

He took a small but deep breath to regain himself, letting his stoic persona continue to melt underneath your touch. “May I?” he asked in a soft voice, and once again all you could do was nod your head.

He brought one of his hands up hesitantly and you couldn’t help a small fond smile at the way he was concentrating so intently on the movement. As soon as his hand made contact with the skin of your cheek, you couldn’t stop yourself from leaning into it. He watched in wonder as your eyes fluttered shut, his other hand now carding itself through your slightly messy hair.

If you’d been a cat, you were certain a distinct sound of purring would emanate from your throat.

He smoothed all your hair back until it was no longer ruffled, and then brought both hands back to cradle your face once more. You didn’t realise you’d been leaning forward and running your hands up his chest until the moment you reached his shirt collar, and your eyes zeroed in on the expanse of his neck just long enough to see his Adam’s apple bob up and down in a hard swallow.

“Um, now you can touch a bit lower if you want. Or just hold my hands if you’re more comfortable with that,” you breathed, trying to bring your thoughts to a focal point while removing your hands from him sharply. He looked so picturesque up this close. You just wanted to stay in this position for hours upon hours.

“Like this?” He voiced hoarsely. You tried to keep your breathing normal as one of his hands fell down to encompass yours, but the other traced the line of your jaw before gliding downwards and brushing against the tender skin of your neck. Just has he had in the beginning before all of this had started.

“Yeah.”

You almost whimpered at the tingling sensation, but kept it in for the sake of the exercise. This man was absolutely dangerous for your wellbeing. It wasn’t even his actions at this point, just his undivided attention and careful eyes tracing over the curve of your figure that had your insides turning to jelly.

“That’s probably enough for now. I can hear your brain working,” you spoke and let out an airy laugh when his fingers hesitated in their descent. It was as if he was trying to compute too much information at once, and somehow, the way he was trying his best was oddly charming.

He grunted. “I’m just- I’m trying to understand you.”

“I know, and I appreciate it,” you responded with a genuine smile, noticing how his words mirrored your own from earlier back when you’d butchered his native tongue. “Now I don’t know about you, but I’m so exhausted I could pass out.”

“Yeah, now I’m really calling it a night.” He cleared his throat with a sigh, mind clearly burning out from the overload of new experiences.

He stood from the couch so suddenly, a stiffness taking hold of his movements. Just what was going through his head at a time like this? You missed his close proximity almost immediately.

Like a robot programmed to move, you also heaved your body up from where it was beginning to sink into the cushions. This whole turn of events seemed unreal, and you could feel your heart still throbbing in your chest at the feeling of Seokjin underneath your fingertips. He had been so warm and had looked so beautiful.

You ran your fingers through your hair as the silence permeated the air, the only sounds being your husband's gentle footsteps as he packed away a few things around the house. You gathered your own bags from the front door and sluggishly traipsed towards your bedroom at the opposite end of the hallway.

I don't want to be on my own.

The invasive thought made you take a few shaky steps back. You were ready to put everything at risk and confess to him how lonely and in love you were, yet to your surprise the sound of his voice softly calling your name made you falter in your tracks.

You stood in the doorway looking outwards as he loitered in front of his own bedroom door at the opposite end, one large hand resting on the doorknob as if he'd been hesitating to open it.

"Did you hear me?"

You relaxed your stance, a sudden embarrassment beginning to settle in at how eager your movements were. "Yeah? What is it?"

Please let me stay with you. Please let me-

"Isn't it - doesn't it seem strange?" He seemed to inwardly backpedal all of a sudden, his pretty eyes falling to the floor and his slightly down-turned nose twitched in regret. "I mean, sorry if this is weird, but after sharing a bed for the entire road trip, doesn't it feel strange to suddenly go back to our own rooms?"

“Ah.” You somehow managed to suppress a hefty sigh of relief, pure ecstasy shooting through your body like some special brand of heroin. You tried to bump up his courage with a reassuring smile. "Jin yes, I still want to spend the night with you."

His eyes rose from the floor as the burden lifted from his mind, shoulders seeming to shake free the stiffness that had taken hold of them ever since the couch fiasco.

"I'm glad. Come over here then."

#seokjin x reader #seokjin scenarios #btsghostie #btsgoldnet #seokjin smut #seokjin imagines #seokjin series #jin smut #seokjin angst #seokjin fluff #arranged marriage au #husband jin #bts jin #bts smut #jin angst #admire #saladejin

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newtonsheffield · 3 years

Note

For spicy Sunday can we please get the Story behind Kate and Anthony on the stairs...

And Ben and Sophie on the lawn of the b&b please 🤣🤓🔥

I knew as soon as I put those lines in that BWC post someone was gonna ask me about it and... Okay. Yep. Here it is. And sorry in advance because this post is looooong.

As Much as Anthony had hated it at the time, he’d been attracted to Kate Sheffield from the very first day he’d seen her. He’d been walking innocently through the bullpen and he’d heard her commanding tone drifting through the office towards him, and heat had shot right through him, and when he’d forced his eyes towards her and she’d sat, in her office, her legs crossed behind her desk, her stocking clad legs seeming to stretch on for miles, Her eyebrow arched in question towards him, her fingernails painted black tapping against the desk Anthony had thought he’d die right on the spot. But he’d pushed it down, even when his eyes seemed to be drawn to the seam that ran up the back of her stockings and his hands twitched to touch them, and he woke in the night his heart racing, his body aching for the way his mind had conjured up the image of her writhing underneath him gasping his name in pleasure.

And then he’d had her. And he truly thought his heart would burst from his chest because the Kate Sheffield his mind had conjured late at night, desperately trying to tell him what his heart wanted, had been his wildest fantasy truly the most erotic thing he’d ever seen. And yet, the Kate Sheffield that lay on his bed gasping and moaning his name like it was the only word she remembered how to say was a million times more so. And he’d thought that perhaps now he’d finally be able to think straight when she was around. Unfortunately for him, that was not the case. He couldn’t see her walking around the office, her stockings pulled tightly against her legs without thinking about how those long legs had felt over his shoulders, miles and miles of soft brown skin stretching on before him as she shattered around him, for him. Couldn’t see her in his house, laughing, smirking, making witty little comments with his family and hers without thinking about how her lips felt against his own, against his chest, her teeth nipping at his collarbone, scraping against his ear, against his stomach. It was enough to drive a man insane.

And truly, today it had been. Anthony really couldn’t say when it had happened, but he craved Kate’s touch. To feel her skin against his in even the most casual way and she had been a little more casual than normal today. She’d sat on his lap as she spoke with her sister, laughing lightly as her Step mother admonished her sister, her breath fanning lightly against his neck and her nails scraping against his neck, her fingers twisting in the soft hair at the base of his neck, and it was all he could do not to stand from the table and drag her from her family, push her against the wall and lose himself in her. And The way her eyes flicked to him when he shifted uncomfortably told him she knew exactly what she was doing.

As soon as the door had shut behind the Sheffield’s Kate’s lips had been on his. Burning hot against him, setting him on fire from the inside out, as she gently pushed against his chest, forcing him to step backwards, his hands wandering everywhere as she moaned against him. He pulled back suddenly, taking her hand and attempting to tug her up the stairs, and his heart had nearly dropped right from his chest when she’d shaken her head, that wicked smirk twisting her lips as she said

“Oh, I think we’re fine right where we are. Sit Down, Anthony.” That same, firm voice, that had caught his attention on the first day and had him panting after her ever since and he’d sat instantly, right there on the staircase, ready to burst and he’d barely touched her as she softly commanded him to.

And really, he wasn’t sure which Kate he liked best. Seeing the strong, confident woman writhing under him, or the one he could see now: Moving powerfully above him, one hand clutching his chest, the other holding her hair back as she took what she wanted from him. And he couldn’t stop the words from coming God Kate, so beautiful, amazing. Perfect. So right, So good I love you babbling mindlessly from him with her name, worshipping like the Goddess she was, His own name falling from her lips again and again until they fell apart together his hands clutching at her like she was the only real thing in his life. And honestly, if Kate Sheffield was going to be the only thing left in his life, he wouldn’t have complained a bit.

🔥🔥🔥

Sophie was... more than a little embarrassed by the series of events that lead to them being discovered in a rather... delicate position on the lawn of a bed and breakfast in Somerset. Benedict had been travelling for work and his eyes and looked so pleading, so soft when he’d said Come away with me for the weekend Sophie his lips against her ear as he said I promise I’ll make it very worth your while, his hand maddeningly close to where she desperately needed it as he said Say yes, and you can have it Sophie what could she say but “Yes, Benedict.” ?

And truly, it had definitely been worth her while. She’s sat and watched Benedict work for a time, more than a little curious as to what he did all day. And unfortunately, she learned a little fact about herself. Watching Benedict work was... very attractive to her. The way his brow furrowed as he surveyed the scene in front of him assessing the composition, the lighting, the soft way he ordered the models about had heat rising to her cheeks. And then, as he’d packed up his equipment he’d said something that she never would have expected to set her one fire, “Come on, I want to draw you today.” And she’d been so surprised she’d barely argued as he’d tugged her back to their tiny room, gathered his things and sat, already uncomfortably warm, on the grass in the back garden as he softly moved her into the position he wanted.

And God he just looked so handsome, in the afternoon sun, his brow furrowed, his hand moving softly over the paper, the charcoal he was using leaving marks against his hand. His gaze when he looked at her over the top of his notebook was practically burning into her. And then he started talking. His voice rough when he told her exactly what he wanted to do to her. How he wanted to press her into the grass, feel her tight around him, the flowers all around them when he made her scream his name. And god help, her she cleared her throat and said, much more confidently than she felt: “Promises, promises Benedict. Stop talking and do it.”

And Sophie watched as the drawing he’d been labouring over softly was tossed to the side, his hands covering her as his lips met hers, the fire that had been threatening to set her on fire all day consuming her. His body slipping over hers as his lips brushed over her thighs, his fingers leaving dark smudges against her skin, marking her. The grass tickling her back as her fingers slipped through his hair as everything shattered. And shattered again when he moaned out her name.

But yes, Sophie had to admit, it was a little awkward to be served eggs the next morning by a woman who had happened upon you seconds after your boyfriend had swallowed your scream with a kiss.

Sorry about me.

#bridgerton and sons au #kathony #anthony x kate #anthony bridgerton #kate sheffield #kate sharma #benophie #benedict bridgerton #sophie beckett #spicy sunday 🌶#I might need Jesus #molly's asks and answers

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acrosstimeandspace · 3 years

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The Ensemble Cast’s Home

i just wanted to write a small drabble about the ensemble cast and their own dorm (aka, my self insert’s place), so here it is!

To the Ensemble cast of the Mankai Company, the second dormitory is their own paradise.

This is not to say that their own homes, which most of them often stayed in, were bad. But there was a different feeling to being in these dorms. For some, it felt like a break away; the younger members certainly felt it was like a step into adulthood, imagining what their own college dorms would be like. The older members grew to understand the actions of those in the main cast, such as Tsuzuru or Omi, always acting like older siblings. They were family, just as much as family as the main cast.

Iku’s troupe was his family as well, that was true, but there was something about Mankai’s ensemble cast that felt right. His troupe didn’t have a dorm, so perhaps that added to his closeness to his fellow ensemble members. But entering the door of the dorms after school or a play was electrifying. It was home, plain and simple, and he wouldn’t give it up for anything.

“There’s an atmosphere around here that’s always calling me back. I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

Arata was one of those who was most often with everyone in Mankai. He attributed it to his thirst for knowledge, wanting to learn as much as he could from his fellow actors. Helping sew a few costumes with Yuki here, learning new recipes from Omi for the ensemble dorm there, and picking up an editing program from Kazunari for fun. And showing these skills off to those at the dorm was fun, watching their eyes light up as he whipped up a new meal for them to enjoy together. He’d always wanted to learn more for himself, but now it was more fun to help the others within the company.

“I want to learn as much as I can, and I’ve never felt more motivation than when I’m here with you all.”

It was honest to say that Eiji joined Mankai because of the costumes. Being able to wear such interesting clothes was such a call to action. But, he found that it was much more fun to get into costume with his troupe. The looks of anxiety and excitement that passed over their faces was exhilarating. The only feeling that beat that was coming back to the dorms with them, the laughter filling the air as they settled into their beds.

“Being here is more than just costumes, it’s a sense of family! I’m so grateful to have met you all!”

Miki was confident in many aspects of his life. His path for his future high school, his passion for acting, his ability to be persuasive and charismatic. But he was most confident in the fun he had at the dorms. Sure, he had close friends, but his troupe members in the ensemble cast brought out a new side of mischief in him, made him feel free and happy. He’d found such a close friendship, it was so dear to him. He’d be happy to be in the ensemble cast for as long as they’d have him.

“This place has a sort of carefree vibe you can’t find anywhere else. I’m glad that I found acting, and you all.”

You could ask the local guitarist, Akito, how amazing it was to sit under the gazebo out back and write songs under the stars. Maybe it wasn’t the recording studio most artists dreamed of, but nothing was better than having his troupe mates come out back to see what he was doing. There always was, mysteriously, a scarf waiting for him on the colder days, a gentle reminder to take care and bundle up. He remembers fondly the day he spotted Micaiah knitting his, and the other’s resting snugly in his knitting bag.

“The dorms are warm, like a scarf gifted on a cold winter's day. I know I’ll carry this warmth with me forever.”

Takuya had no plans to act until watching the summer troupe practice. His search to try something new had opened up to a world of wonder, like a summer’s day off exploring wonderland when he was just a kid. Everything felt so freeing, and being able to laugh with the others and feel the excitement of putting on a performance made him feel like he was soaring. Sure, he wasn’t a part of the main cast of the Summer Troupe, but they were his friends and troupe members either way, he couldn’t have wished for anything more.

“Being here feels nostalgic in the best way, you know? It’s the breath of fresh air I was searching for.”

There were many good things Ichiro could say about the Mankai company. Perhaps he was influenced by the fact others from his group also worked there, but it was truly a home. It didn’t hurt that he had convinced some of the other members to work out, bonding together with the others in his own way. He’s still honestly startled by Muku’s strength, but to him, the kid really showed what the Mankai company was really like. It seemed small, ambitious, but the company could really pack a punch.

“A roof’s a roof, and a home’s a group of people you can trust. That’s exactly what’s here under this roof.”

There wasn’t really anything that had made Kengo want to act, despite being swept up by Citron and Kazunari. He didn’t understand what they saw in him, what the others see in him now. But it was undeniably fun, being with everyone, acting together. It was nice too, to come to this dorm with a delicious meal waiting for him and friends to hang out with. Plus, it was easy to snack on new foods with Micaiah always experimenting and cooking for them.

“There’s always something new to experience here, something crazy happening. It’s fun.”

Julian had no need to read any fortune to tell that this home he had found was something special. It was meant to be, to be a part of the Mankai’s ensemble cast. And it was fun to read the fortunes of the other members, though he could always know for success in their plays. All their efforts pointed towards it, no fortune could prove otherwise. This place, this troupe, is something great. At least, it’s something great to him.

“I feel like I’m the luckiest man in the world to be here, with you all.”

Determination is what pushed Yuichi through to becoming such a well renowned model, and now to polishing his acting. Whatever had pulled him to this stage specifically was perhaps one of the best gut feelings he had followed. It was nice, warm, in a cheesy way. But who would he be to complain when he enjoyed that feeling? The nice record player in the living room didn’t hurt either, often sweeping up whoever came through the door into a dance on happier days, and finding solace in the music it played other days as he sat by the fire on worse ones. There was comfort and effort in being here.

“Our effort shines through in our work here, I’m glad I saw that casting call. There’s something about this place that makes it feel special.”

It was true that Tsubasa, like Iku, was primarily part of another troupe. He had heard from countless people, particularly Yuzo, that he ran them ragged with his active imagination. But it was fun, to get the others in the dorms to play along. There was something fun about embracing the drama of theater, and he was glad to find such kindred spirits within these halls.

“Perhaps what I say is perceived as enthusiastic, but these buildings are more important than many others. At least to us, to me, they are, for they are our homes.”

It would be unfair to talk about the older brother figures of Mankai without mentioning Keita. It surprised him that he has such a brotherly side. But he loved the other members of Mankai like family, and became elated when they relied on him for something. Maybe he couldn’t act full time, but being able to stand on the stage in any way he could, and find a family along the way? Well, that was something special.

“I’m glad I can walk back on to the stage with you all. Being here has brought me so much happiness, I don’t even think I really realize how much this means to me some days.”

Micaiah watched from the kitchen with a smile, tapping the spoon he had used to stir tonight’s soup with a smile. The ensemble cast was small, maybe not as well noticed as his friends in the main cast. But they were with his dorms, and his family. And to see them all gathered around the table and talk about how happy they were to be here made him feel all warm and happy. There was a place for all of them, and Micaiah was glad to provide it.

#my writing #a3 #a3!#a3 ensemble cast #self insert #self insert writing #a3 drabble #a3!micaiah

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watermelonlipstick · 3 years

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Dreams, Chapter 5

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

GET. READY. This is a bigger chunk but I really think it’s worth it.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 5

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 5343

Summary: Dean’s birthday proves easier than expected in some ways and harder in others.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, alcohol, s l o w b u r n

Sam pulled back from you, opening one eye drowsily. “Are you okay?” he says, voice gritty with sleep.

“Yeah, I…he didn’t die,” you breathed, confused.

He cleared his throat. “What?”

“He always dies. He fell off of Bobby’s roof, but he just broke his ankle, he, he didn’t die.”

Sam rubbed his face with his free arm, trying to wake up more in earnest. It was still dark, so it couldn’t have been later than 7:30. You hadn’t been asleep for more than a few hours but suddenly felt beyond alert. “That’s good, right?”

“I—yeah, it’s good. Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The reflex was to say no, usher Sam back to sleep. But your reflexes had already been wrong once today. “Can we?”

The way Sam kept the surprise off his face was admirable. It was the first time you’d agreed to talk about the nightmares that plagued you since losing Dean. He propped himself up on his elbows and flicked on the small lamp beside the bed. “What happened?”

You told Sam all about the dream, sparing only the details you couldn’t really remember or only made dream-sense, like the way you knew it was 4th of July weekend without having been told. He listened thoughtfully, the focus obvious in his expression. He waited a long beat when you were done, sure not to step on your moment of vulnerability.

“What do you think it means?” he asked gently.

You thunked back onto your pillow to gaze up at the popcorn ceiling. “I don’t care, to be honest.” The almost-dark made fuzzy static pulse in your vision. “I think I’m going to write about it, actually,” you said, and startled yourself.

“Oh, uh, okay,” Sam said encouragingly. “Do you want me to—” he asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder.

“No, no. I’ll be back in a little bit, see if you can go back to sleep.”

Sam nodded with more than a little concern and you climbed over him, yanking an old sweatshirt out to throw over your wilted tee and scampering off to the kitchen table.

The house was ice cold and dark aside from the ever-present Christmas lights and you could feel the needles that had begun to drop from the tree under your bare feet, rapidly cooling on the cheap flooring. You picked up the notebook and pens Sam had gotten you and sat down at the kitchen counter to write.

In the days that followed, the constant and varied nightmares of Dean’s deaths returned. When you woke up, more and more often making it to the morning, you kept writing to Dean about them and sometimes your day as a way of processing. You never ‘told him’ about exactly what happened and tried to focus on the sweet things you remembered that made the worst dreams a tease, moving them to your daytime memory and trying to wash away the despair the nightmares left you clawing through.

By the middle of January, you and Sam had fallen mostly back into old patterns. The Christmas lights were still up, a sort of night light against the long Midwestern nights, and you couldn’t help feeling a small sense of despair sweeping up loose pine needles when Sam was in the shower every day. You didn’t want the winter to end, as weird as that sounded with the ice and chill and fingertips that never warmed all the way. It felt like if you moved into spring that you were leaving the time-out that you’d created and would have to figure out a longer-term solution than this rented cabin, all thin drywall and poorly insulated ceilings. Even your jobs didn’t feel permanent, the summer vacationers sure to come back and reclaim their spots in the town as it came back to life with the plants.

The ‘mostly’ was that the boundary you broke with Sam never truly came uncrossed. When you were washing dishes he would come stand behind you, the heat of his lips seeping into the shoulder of your old sweatshirts. You’d intertwine your fingers with his while he drove, realizing only when you went to open the car door and found yourself tangled, or running your hands through his hair while he read next to you on the sofa. You never met Sam’s eyes in these moments—somehow it felt like a secret, private thing that would collapse into dust if gazed upon, some sweet, small creature you were protecting. Neither one of you talked about it in the time since that tequila-soaked night.

As much as you’d needed to be close to him before, you began craving Sam in a way that scared you. You’d always found him beautiful in the way you admire someone you love, but you caught yourself taking notice of the pillars of muscles along his back when he broke down stock boxes and the dark swoop of his eyelashes. The comments about how lucky you were to have him that used to make you nervous your cover was about to be blown started to make you ache a little with fear and something you couldn’t place. You felt a bizarre flick of jealousy when some twenty somethings drinking White Claw dragged their eyes over him at the bar before leaving on their snowmobiles, like he really was yours to claim. It seemed like a manifestation of your fierce attachment and unresolved grief not only for Dean but your old life with the Winchesters, when they sort of were: your teammates and no one else’s. You resolved it had to be and explained it away without inspection, even when these ‘isolated’ moments became less and less isolated.

Before you knew it, you were hurtling toward Dean’s birthday.

“What should we do on Sunday?” you asked early on a Thursday afternoon, trying to keep your voice light and easy while you and Sam got ready for your last day of work for the week.

“I don’t, uh, I don’t know.”

“Did you guys ever do anything when you were little?”

“I mean, not really. Sometimes like a cake or whatever I guess, but Dean was always better at that stuff. By the time we were in our 20s, he only wanted to go meet girls and play up the ‘kiss for the birthday boy’ schtick.” Sam grinned sheepishly as though you didn’t know who Dean had been.

You couldn’t help but smile, remembering the cocksure half-boy you’d met all those years ago. “Okay, well, if you didn’t have anything in mind, I have a couple ideas.”

“Oh, yeah, I had only really come up with a cherry pie and a bottle of whiskey.”

You stood up from the kitchen table and grabbed Sam’s empty plate, leaning into his drying hair for long enough to inhale the minty earthiness of his shampoo. “I mean, that’s a given.”

In Sunday’s late morning you slipped out of the house while Sam was in the shower, leaving a note behind that said you’d be back in a few minutes. You careened down the road to the quaint main street, running through the list in your head. The grocery store was first for the only bottle of scotch they kept in a tiny plastic container and the fixings for bacon cheeseburgers, then the coffee shop had a cherry pie that looked better to you than whatever pseudo-Entemann’s they had in the limited grocery bakery section. The hardware store had everything else you needed and some extras; you praised the cold climate necessity of having multiple places in town to get gloves and thick woolen socks as you threw a couple on the checkout with the rest of the haul. It was awkward to get everything in the trunk, and you were thankful in this moment that you weren’t trying to drive the little sedan you’d had years ago when it was just you, even as annoying as it was to park the Impala sometimes.

Back at the cabin Sam was solemnly cleaning up, his eyes red as he wrung out a mop. You took the pie and whiskey out of the bag and put the other groceries away without removing your coat. In truth you only took off the boots you were wearing as a concession to Sam’s mopping, feeling itchy to get back outside and let the complexity of your emotions explode into fresh air unencumbered.

You tossed a pair of new woolen socks to Sam, who caught them against his chest. “You’re going to want these.”

“What? Where are we going?”

“Somewhere I think Dean would’ve liked. Put on some layers, too.”

Sam obeyed with a crooked eyebrow, coming out of the bedroom a few minutes later looking like a lumberjack catalogue model. You didn’t say anything when you realized the hoodie he was wearing used to be his brother’s.

“Ready?”

“I’m not sure, I don’t know where we’re going,” Sam answered honestly.

You gestured toward the door and he followed you out to the car. Thankfully it had snowed that morning, and tiny billows of powdery snowflakes blew up around each car that you passed on the way.

The hill was massive. It was a little surprising considering the flatness of the majority of the Midwest, and you’d had to remind yourself that there were some small skiing outfits in the upper half of the state when you’d found it, sure that it was a garbage dump that had been covered lazily in grass seed and left to its own devices. Less impressive surrounding slopes reassured you when you’d scoped it out a few days earlier, and the fresh glittering snow made it look even more spectacular now than you’d remembered. You decided not to push it taking the Impala onto the snow, instead parking at the dead-end you thought was closest.

“We’re here?” Sam asked, obviously still confused.

“Yep. Come on,” you said, enjoying the surprise more than you’d thought you would.

Popping the trunk made it obvious when the bright plastic sleds were wedged in alongside the miscellaneous weapons whose permanent home it was. You watched Sam’s face as recognition dawned, closely followed by a smirk you knew was in large part to humor you. Yanking them out in one big pull, you handed Sam the green one and one of the pair of gloves you’d gotten that morning.

“These are huge, where did you even find them?” he chuckled, popping the plastic tie between the gloves and sliding his hands into them.

“You’re huge, it’s not like I can put you on a kid’s one. Besides they must be pretty serious about their sledding up here, these were just from the hardware store.”

Sam shook his head and waited for you to put your gloves on. They were comically big on you, but you knew you’d regret not wearing any and tried your best to grip the sides of the plastic sled through them as you took off toward the hill. After a few steps, Sam took the sled from you without a word, able to hold it easily with both his well-fitting gloves and the many extra inches between his arms and the ground.

The walk up the hill was somewhat of a trudge but the way the crisp air sliced through your lungs was a welcome distraction. Snow dampened the ambient noise so all you could hear was Sam’s rhythmic breathing like a mantra, and with one foot in front of the other, by the time you got to the top you felt like you’d been meditating. The view was amazing from the top, a painting or old illustration with its tiny homes and cottages over meandering fields, the snow washing everything out as if you were watching someone else’s dream.

“Should we race?” Sam asked, the swirled pigment of his irises lit up by the reflection off the snow.

The next thing you heard was Sam’s laugh behind you as you took a few big strides and jumped onto the sled. Careening down the hill, your hair snapped around, tiny whips cracking into your wind-tenderized cheeks as you tried in vain to steer the sled in slices across the straight pass. Sam’s cackle was distant but comforting over your shoulder. You closed your eyes to feel the speed underneath you and the wind across your face; listen to that laugh that you’d heard so little recently, an old favorite song to be put on repeat. On January 24th of all days it felt like you were being baptized in the clear crystal sound of it.

When you came to a stop, Sam was only a half second behind you. You fell over in a fit of giggles listening to him play-whine about cheating and “Totally not fair, after I carry your sled all the way up for you!”

“I’ll beat you again with no head start! Unless you’re chicken,” you taunted, brushing snow off your legs to start back up the hill again. Sam scrambled to his feet, passing you up quickly with his huge strides as you started to run after him. Gasping with laughter and exertion, you and Sam half-wrestled and chased each other to the top, collapsing to your backs like snow angels. After catching your breath, you propped yourself up on your elbows to look over at him.

“Rematch?”

Sam’s smile, all straight pearl teeth and cold-flushed cheeks, was as breathtaking as the icy wind as you tore down the run, this time on your stomach with your head low like a bullet, trying in earnest to win again. The front lip of the sled in your fingertips rumbled against little imperfections in the snow. You glanced to check how much of a lead you had on Sam and had barely turned your head before you realized you were also dipping your shoulder, tilting the sled on its greased-lightning path and therefore you with it. Sam was right on your tail and narrowly missed crushing you when you fell off the sled by bailing out of his, your legs tangling together with misplaced velocity. You tried to hold still so you wouldn’t catch his face with a flailing limb, only moving after a beat when it seemed like the collision was over. Sam’s fall seemed to have been more graceful than yours, as he still had a hand on his sled and only a left arm and hair full of snow that he shook loose like a puppy.

“Are you okay?” he said, getting to his knees to reach out to you.

You could feel the scrape on your cheek before you got up, but Sam’s wince was only minor when he saw it which was reassuring. He snatched off his glove and brushed snow off your face gently, barely grazing the broken skin. The warmth felt so nice and you would’ve curled up in his palm like Thumbelina if you could. “What’s the damage?” you asked, trying to think about the way your breath puffed up in clouds around you rather than the snowflakes caught in Sam’s eyelashes.

He was analytical as he took it in, tilting your head carefully in the light. “Doesn’t look too bad. Does it hurt?”

“Nah. Did you think I’d get soft that fast? I used to get stabbed like once a month.”

Sam chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Do you want to go home?”

It didn’t feel as odd as it should’ve, knowing exactly what home meant in this context. “And let you think I only won by cheating? Fat chance!”

“You don’t even have a sled anymore!”

You glanced around you and saw your sled sitting smugly an easy 30 yards past the base of the hill. “Gimme a ride?”

It was a little awkward until Sam sat down on the sled with each heel straddled and digging into the snow, allowing you to crawl between his legs without unintentionally sliding down the rest of the slope. He seemed unsure of himself as he wrapped his arms around your torso, and you hooked your hands around each of his legs to do your part to hang onto him. “Ready?” he asked, his breath warm on your neck.

When you nodded, he unstuck his heels and you shot like a racehorse down the hill. Sam’s chest was solid as a rock behind you, cushioned with his layers and fastened with his seatbelt arms. You could feel the muscles in his legs moving against your hands, trying to balance the weight of the two of you on the flimsy material. Despite your fall only moments ago, it was safe in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. The ride came to a stop only a few steps away from your cast off sled.

You turned into Sam to get to your knees before standing up and slipped on a wet patch on the plastic, the melted snow turning the surface impossibly slick. It made you fall forward into Sam, his seated position not giving him enough stability to stay on balance—the sled shifted back underneath the both of you and brushed your lips across his as you ended up with your scraped cheek against the rough canvas of his jacket.

“I—oh my god I’m sorry,” you stammered, springing back gracelessly.

Sam looked somewhat like a little kid or a doll, sitting wide eyed with his legs still spread out around you. You stayed back on your knees feeling like you should move slowly, that maybe you could back away unscathed yet. Sam reached his hands out and you thought it was okay, he understood you wouldn’t cross yet another line with him, that it was a simple mistake and he was going to move past it or ask for your help up, and then his heavily gloved hand slid into your hair and he was leaning toward you, the breath that had felt so comforting on the back of your neck as you flew down the hill now on your bottom lip. Your needle-sharp inhale drew that air from him, and you started to feel dizzy. He waited for a moment, searching between your eyes for you to pull back, to turn it into a joke, but you couldn’t. Something in the light pressure of his hand was an anchor and you found yourself glancing at Sam’s lips and slowly, agonizingly, Sam closed the distance between you.

His lips were so soft and gentle that it made you feel like you were going to cry and then you were crying, just one hot salty tear that stung the fresh abrasion on your cheek as you moved against him, this foreign and scary part of the person you knew the best on this earth. Somehow kissing Sam was exactly how you would’ve guessed it would be—tender and sweet and reverent. The sound dampening of the snow amplified your other senses: the feeling of the cheap Gore-Tex catching one or two hairs as Sam supported your weight, the small brush of Sam’s breath through his nose, the tight flick of the wind against your coats. It was over as quickly as it started, leaving you and Sam staring at each other bewildered while your hair tangled around you.

You could feel that your eyes were as wide as Sam’s. Completely unable to formulate a thought or feeling, much less something to say, you silently extricated yourself from the sled. Sam did too, staring at it like it was some complicated spell, even turning away from you as you crossed over to your own store-bought chariot. You could read his tension even in his back, the tight stretch of his shoulders as he clutched at the scruff of his neck, and just wanted to make it better.

“Okay, rematch for real this time? I would say I won’t fall again but, no promises.”

Sam looked scared when he turned back to you, his voice gruff when he choked out a halfhearted, “yeah, sure” and followed you up the hill. He was far enough behind you that you couldn’t hear his breathing anymore and it took him a little bit to reach you at the peak. His body seemed like it was cracking around him, aging in moments as he shakily got into his sled beside yours. You wanted so badly to tell him it’s okay, it’s just some dumb mistake, we were just goofing off but you knew it wasn’t true and you didn’t want to lie.

The only thing you could fix your mouth to say was, “Count us down so you can’t say I’m cheating again,” and hope he heard the apology and forgiveness in it.

Sam obeyed dutifully and you kicked off down the hill, trying to use the speed you gathered and the clarity in the way it split open your lungs to try to understand what had just happened. The same trip that had felt like glorious ages before was over in a second and you were up out of your sled before you remembered you were supposed to be measuring whether you or Sam had gotten down faster.

“Tie, we’re going again!” you yelled over your shoulder as you did your best to bound through the deep snow up the side of the hill, not waiting to see if he was following you.

Once again at the top, ragged and out of breath and only a few steps ahead of him, you took a second to collect yourself before putting your sled back in the snow and holding it in place with one foot.

“I’m sor—” Sam started before you cut him off.

“Okay, third time’s the charm!” you said with panicked cheerfulness that you knew instantly was too much, but Sam stopped talking and dejectedly sat on his sled next to you.

You and Sam spent probably an hour more sledding, your legs turning to jello underneath you as you ran up the hill over and over again and your cheeks getting more and more wind chapped, before Sam finally smiled, exasperated at some joke about still beating him up the hill with legs that were half as long. It was all the fuel you needed to keep chipping away at him until the sun started dropping and the chill broke through all your layers.

The two of you plodded through the snow back to the car together. Gloves and sleds in the trunk, you flopped into the passenger seat with that sudden too-hot feeling of getting out of the wind and tore at your coat to desperately strip some layers. Sam threw his own jacket in the back. Without giving him a chance to protest or hook up his phone, you turned on the tape deck and Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here pounded out like rocky silk.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” you murmured. You looked over at Sam, who burst into a kind of frantic laughter that you completely understood. You couldn’t stop yourself from laughing either, because of course this was playing during the tense peace on Dean’s birthday in Dean’s car, and then you and Sam were cry-laughing in the rapidly humidifying air of the Impala while Syd Barrett waxed poetic. By the time the second chunks of Shine On You Crazy Diamond started, you were gasping for air and clutching at your sides.

You drove home after that in relative silence, the fatigue of fresh air and running all afternoon catching up with you. Sam took a shower while you put together burgers, switching spots with you to cook them while you washed up. They were pretty good due in large part to how seriously Wisconsinites take their cheese, bacon, and beef, and you wolfed yours long before your hair had stopped dripping onto the collar of the threadbare sweatshirt you’d changed into.

The first shot of scotch burned like it always did, offsetting the sweet tang of the cherry pie and reminding you of the way Dean used to taste when you kissed him at the end of a long night. You looked out the window at the last purple glow of the sunset as it turned the evening into deep, endless inky blue.

“I’ve gotta—I’m so sorry,” Sam spat out like the words were beating their way out of his mouth.

“You don’t have to be sorry,” you murmured, unable to immediately meet his gaze and looking down at your pie.

“I just—I can’t—I don’t know what the fuck is going on,” he stammered.

You couldn’t help but smile at the absurdity of the whole thing. “Join the club.”

Sam smirked but it was mirthless. “No, I know, but it’s just…I don’t know. I’m sorry.” He stabbed a deflated cherry with pursed lips, and you watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat. The fork clattered to his plate. “It’s not getting any easier. Every day I wake up and I’m so mad. It’s so fucking unfair that I have to stay here without him because I know that’s what he fucking wanted, and I feel like there’s no point in trying to have anything like good or normal because I’m just running out the clock. And then today’s Dean’s fucking birthday and I kiss his girlfriend—what is wrong with me?”

The outburst hung in the air, a toxic smoke that excluded everything else. You slammed the rest of your glass of scotch, relishing the way it scalded. “So I’m just Dean’s girlfriend?”

“No, that’s not what I—I mean I guess—it’s not like you aren’t—I don’t know, it just seems like you’ll always be his girlfriend.”

“Are you still Jess’s boyfriend?”

It was the absolute most cruel and wrong thing to say and you regretted the words as soon as they left your tongue and crashed into Sam, not even really knowing why you’d thought them. They distorted his face in incredulity and betrayal but you didn’t back down, maintaining eye contact until he snatched the bottle and refilled both glasses. When he spoke again his voice was gravelly and broken.

“I guess I deserved that.”

“Sam, this is fucking weird. It always has been, us being alive without Dean, and if you’re just now getting that then you’re not as smart as I thought you were. I don’t—I don’t really know what’s going on either, but I know that you’re the only thing that’s keeping me from ending up with a bullet in my skull or in a locked ward, so if you’re waiting for me to forgive you for something, for anything you’ve ever said or done, it’s already forgiven. But we’re too tied up together for every tiny redrawing of the boundaries to send us over the edge. Please.”

“Tiny redrawing of boundaries? I kissed you!”

“And I kissed you back, Sam! What do you want to do about it? What’s the absolution here? If you want to leave, I’m not going to stop you. Take the Impala and I’ll find some other car, I’ll borrow the Kaisers’ other one or something. Or maybe you want me to go and I’ll go; I’ll do anything you want me to. I’ll leave right now, you never have to see me again if that’s what you want but I know Dean loved you and loved me and I don’t think he would’ve wanted you to torture yourself all the time so what is it that you want?”

“I want us to be fucking normal and I don’t want to feel like I’m cheating with my brother’s girlfriend! I don’t want to have a cover story and I don’t want to keep running away!”

“Then fucking stop! Stop feeling guilty and talk to me about this stuff!”

Sam laughed, hard and bitter and choked off.

“I’m serious. We can’t keep doing this shit, at least I can’t. We need to start talking—about Dean, about everything. It’s like this lump of decay and we’re just spraying Febreze and not dealing with it.”

Sam’s mouth popped open as he tongued his molars. He bit his lip in frustration before crumpling up his napkin and threw it on top of his half-eaten pie. “Okay. Let’s talk.”

You weren’t expecting that. For all the ways it had seemed like Dean had been the more emotionally closed off, he was always much easier for you to read than Sam, who managed somehow to talk about things without actually communicating how he felt. It was good if you needed to be supported but made it extremely hard to be there for him. Refilling your glasses a bit more conservatively, you offered up an open palm to let Sam go first. His jaw tensed and he swallowed hard.

“No bullshit?” he asked.

“No bullshit. What’s the point of bullshitting anymore? After everything?”

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 6

Thanks again for reading! If you liked it, check out my Masterlist or send me a request!

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jokertrap-ran · 3 years

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(光与夜之恋 Light and Night) Main Story Chapter 1-3: 命运的拐点 Destiny’s Turning Point Translation

“Destiny is like a gust of wind… Red leaves flutter, flying away in the face of it. And it is when the winds pick up ― That you meet once more…”

“And just where are you running off to now? “

*Light and Night Master-list *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *Join the Light & Night Discord (＾▽＾)~ ♪ *Main story tag will be #For Light and Night

Police: Name?

Cindy: My name’s Cindy. My earrings are gone! I’ve spent an entire week on them. Please, you must help me find them!

The girl who was desperate to the brink of tears was none other than Cindy, the oldest contestant amongst us all.

Half an hour ago, Cindy had suggested reporting this to the police seeing as how many of the designers had their accessories go missing. Now, she was the first one to undergo questioning by the police.

Police: Earrings, you say? Alright, I’ve noted it down. Has anyone else lost anything?

Designer A: Me. I lost an Emerald hairpin.

Designer B: My pearl ring is gone too.

MC: I’m (Y/n), my brooch has also gone missing.

Police: I’ve gotten the gist of the situation here. All of your items were found lost after less than half an hour after having been left here.

Police: My colleague went to check the surveillance tapes. There was no one suspicious who entered and left the room during that time frame.

Cindy: How can that be…

Police: But there are blind spots where the surveillance cameras cannot reach. Plus, things don’t simply disappear for no reason at all.

Police: So, I’m asking everyone to think carefully about it again. Did any of you see anyone who was acting suspicious?

MC: A suspicious looking person…

The image of the figure dressed in black and wearing a mask flashed into my mind along with his skull pendant and flickering silver chains.

MC: I saw someone that I didn’t recognize walk out of the room, but I thought that he was a model…

MC: But now that I think about it, no model would come here.

Police: What did this person look like?

MC: He’s very tall and looks to be around 185cm. He wasn’t wearing a staff uniform.

Police: Can you give me a detailed description of his appearance and how he was dressed?

I nodded, trying my hardest to remember what I’d seen in that split-second.

MC: I couldn’t make out his features since he wore a black mask, but I remember his clothes…!

MC: He wore a black leather jacket paired with light grey jeans and a pair of studded boots.

MC: He had a long silver necklace with a skull pendant hanging from it along with a few silver chains hanging from his waist.

MC: His countenance is hard to describe. He appears to give off a very mysterious vibe, but honestly, the design of the pants he wore needs to be optimized…

I continued prattling on, unaware of how the policeman who’d been recording my descriptions down stopped short.

Police: Optimized?

Suddenly realizing what I’d just said, my face flushed in embarrassment.

MC: Sorry, but that’s pretty much all I saw…

Police: Alright. We’ll look further into the matter with this information.

Police: However, considering the large number of people here, the vastness of the venue and the small number of missing items, it’ll be quite difficult to find them.

Police: You’d best be prepared.

Everyone lapsed into collective silence after the police left. The solemness of the atmosphere in here was tangible, like a heavy cloud that hung over all of our heads.

Cindy had already succumbed to despair. She silently squatted down; head buried into the crook of her arm.

★Night Choice: Settle your own problems

Even though I want to comfort Cindy, I know very well that whatever I do or say will only pale in comparison to how she feels right now.

Why don't we just spend the time to think our next step through, instead of being overwhelmed by negative emotions?

Most of the contestants around her have already recovered from the brief turn of events, returning to their tasks at hand.

The contest was just this cruel. Everyone couldn’t afford to be distracted in this race against time as they all raced to the finish line where the ultimate goal laid.

MC: How about just making another one since the chance of finding it is so slim?

MC: But there are only 3 days left… What if I can't finish it in time…

I subconsciously glanced out the window. The huge poster screen of Sariel greeting my wandering eyes once more.

MC: There's no time to be pondering over this.

MC: If it were Sariel in my shoes, he wouldn’t waste time worrying over things that may or may not happen.

The perplexing feeling of loss and the sadness I felt over this incident disappeared almost immediately as I immersed myself into re-making it. The light of the sunset shines through the glass window, bringing about a tinge of warmth.

☆Light Choice: Comfort Her

I walked up to her, gently patting her back.

MC: Don’t worry, I’m sure the police will be able to help us all find our missing accessories.

Cindy: You guys are all young and talented… you’ll have other things to fall back on if you fail here, so of course you wouldn’t be too worried about it… but such a thing doesn’t exist for me…

Her soft voice was distorted by her sniffling, so much that I could barely distinguish what she was trying to say between sobs.

I’d overheard the others talking about her before. Cindy was originally a white-collar worker who’d eventually resigned and got a loan to study design overseas. It was a do-or-die situation for her, in a way.

I didn’t know what I should say to comfort her, for everything I say right now would only pale in comparison to what she was going through. All I could do was to gently pat her back.

Cindy: Why did this have to happen now…? It took me such painstaking efforts to get this far…

All the doom and gloom that she exuded was contagious, and I soon felt my heart drop along with her worsening mood.

???: What are you crying about?

Wu Yue: Those who whinge and always feel sorry for themselves but do nothing to fix it will never succeed.

This was the first time I’ve ever heard her speak off-stage.

I couldn’t help but to be surprised at the look of dead seriousness on her face.

MC: There’s still another 3 days before the competition, so let’s hurry and start re-doing what we’ve lost.

Gao Cheng: I… I can help everyone fetch the materials they need. You can also ask me for help if any of you need an extra hand…

Designer A: I’ve already long since wanted to change my hairpin design! I’m sure the new one this time will turn out a hundred times better! You guys better watch out!

More contestants started inputting, and the gloomy atmosphere soon dissipated. Cindy had also stopped crying, vigorously rubbing at her eyes.

Cindy: You guys are right. I cannot give up here…

Despite all of us not knowing what results awaited us 3 days later, and despite all of us being fellow competitors, we were all teammates now, working hard with the same goal in mind.

After getting our moods in check, everyone returned to their own working space, making the best out of the remaining time left to continue with their respective creations.

❖☆———————————★❖

The hands on the clock had already moved past the 8 PM mark by the time if gotten up for a good stretch.

MC: The gown’s pretty much good to go, and I’ve also finished drawing out the new brooch design. Everything’s turning out pretty well~

Gao Cheng: Your design’s inspired by the starry skies, right? It’s really pretty…

Gao Cheng’s faze lingered on the draft of my design for a while before he seemingly snapped out of it. He raised his head, frantically waving his hands in front of him with a flustered look on his face.

Gao Cheng: S-Sorry, it wasn’t my intention to peek at your design. I just happened to get attracted to it when I walked past…

MC: Don’t worry about it, you came at a great time. Could you tell me what you think about it?

Gao Cheng: Is the brooch meant to represent the brightest star in the sky?

MC: Yup, it represents the north star.

Gao Cheng: But Polaris isn’t actually all that bright. It shines at 2nd magnitude, so you can use a darker gemstone to represent it.

It was as if he were an entirely different person when it came to the topic of stars. He gushed enthusiastically about it with unrivalled passion and seriousness.

Gao Cheng: Ah, I just like astronomy, so I know about it a little more than others. Please don’t get mad at me…

MC: Why would I be mad? I’m actually extremely thankful for your input!

I’d previously searched up pictures of the starry sky up on the internet to use as reference pictures, but what Gao Cheng said reminded me once again that even though the pictures captured by a camera’s lens turn out beautiful, it still isn’t as real as the real thing.

Nothing beats seeing it with your own eyes and ascertaining it for yourself after all.

MC: Maybe I should go up to the rooftop and check the stars out.

❖☆———————————★❖

The cold air of the night greets me as I push open the doors to the rooftop. The vast night sky was spread out before my eyes, the many little red dots beneath it denoting lights of the thousands of households below.

I held onto the railing with both hands raising my head to inhale deeply.

It was then that my phone rang to life as messages from An'an came pouring in one line after another.

An'an (SMS): I’ve gotten my hands on the guest list!

An'an (SMS): You won’t believe how elaborate this guest line-up is! Osborn’s actually coming, you know!? His club’s going to be collaborating with the Warson Group!

MC: …Osborn?

An'an (SMS): Please tell me you still remember him. I’ve shown you a picture of him before! He’s my favourite R1 racer who has won 4 consecutive championships!

I hadn’t yet had the chance to truly think back on it when I suddenly heard a faint noise. It was the familiar sound of metallic chains clinking against each other.

There had been no one here when I came up to the rooftop.

My heart leapt to my throat as I unwittingly headed towards the direction of the sound.

There was someone hidden within the shadows, standing silently in one of the corners where the moonlight never reached.

Seemingly having noticed my gaze, the person moved forwards, stepping out of the shadows.

❖☆———————————★❖

I finally managed to vaguely make out his appearance. He was tall and intimidating even from a distance away. He wore a black jacket across his shoulders, the moonlight glinting off the skull necklace that rested upon his chest.

MC: That’s the guy I saw back in the corridor!

I hadn’t yet recovered from the initial surprise of seeing him here when I suddenly noticed that he was holding a red earring between his fingers.

Cindy’s Earrings! So, he really WAS the thief!

The clouds blocked off the moonlight, darkening the skies as my heart raced, pounding loudly in my ears. Did I interrupt him in the middle of something? Am I going to be “silenced”?

All hesitation flew out the window the moment my thoughts stopped there. I immediately turned and made a dash for the exit.

However, just as I was about to pull the door open and make my escape, a well-defined hand pressed against the door, blocking off my escape.

??: And just where are you running off to now?

❖☆————— ⊹ For Light & Night⊹ —————★❖

Previous Part: (Chapter 1-1) | Next Part: (Chapter 1-5)

#光与夜之恋 #Light and Night #Otome #Translations #Tencent #萧逸 #Osborn #齐司礼 #Sariel #陆沉 #Evan #查理苏 #Charlie #夏鸣星 #Jesse #For Light and Night

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hellisheuphoria · 4 years

Text

Chapter 2: Silence

The MC has a rough day, and finds comfort in a certain individual.

[Nothing much to say here, except thank you for reading, and don’t hesitate writing any constructive criticism to me or pointing out mistakes, ily all <3]

Morning arrives, and your eyes still barely open from the exhaustion of last night. You wished you had never woken up, far too tired for the day ahead.

You can tell it is early in the morning- just before 6 am. There is no sun in the Devildom, and so you have had to adjust your internal clock to the eternal darkness of this world.

No light creeps into your room to remind you that there is a new start to another day. That the past belongs in the past- yet your mind just can not correspond with that. It feels like everyday is the same.

It is eternal and infinite, yet you are mortal and weak. Despite possessing pacts with the most strongest rulers of the Devildom, you wield no strength. You possess no magical power. You’re useless.

If a demon wished to devour you right this very second, you would be gone. There is no power within you to perform any spells, and so you are defenceless.

Already in a depressive state, you will your weary bones to move. In order to avoid your housemates, you would need an extremely early start to the day. Meaning, now.

You freshen up in the bathroom, noticing your horrible features on your face. Your skin is pale and hollow, dark circles have comfortably edged themselves under your eyes, your eyes are hollow and lifeless and your hair thin and dead. You look like a zombie.

Your RAD uniform is crumpled and messy from having thrown it on the floor the day before, not giving a single care for it in the world.

You quietly walk to the kitchen, with your school necessities and belongings in your bag that has been slumped over your shoulder. You grab a small carton of yoghurt to eat and walked to the door, making sure to be quiet so as to not wake any of them up or alert them.

There are barely any students by the time you get to school, but they are almost always the nicer demons, the over achievers of the school. As they say, the early bird catches the worm.

You walked to the courtyard, where many beautiful plants and wildflowers resided, making it a truly wonderful and bright place in RAD. You sat down on one of the benches and took out your yoghurt, peeling the plastic off.

Someone tapped your shoulder from next to you. The white hair gave it away immediately; Solomon.

”Hello, MC. You’re quite early, today.” He greeted you with a lovely smile, but you could tell something was going on if you looked deeper into his eyes. He held onto a secret of some sorts.

”Hey.” You responded, nervous and flustered at the same time. You two didn’t talk often, despite being the only two human exchange students in the Devildom. He was very handsome and you would find yourself staring at him during class, enraptured.

He was also a very powerful sorcerer, having made pacts with more than 72 demons- Asmodeus included.

But he was nice, and hadn’t hurt you at all. Well, yet. You hoped he wouldn’t, you actually liked him.

”You look tired today. Had a rough night?” He observed you closely, his eyes still looking around your face as you slowly went red.

”I-uh, you could say that. I woke up sort of early and couldn’t sleep.” It wasn’t a total lie, but it wasn’t the entire truth either.

”Huh, alright.” He was still smiling at you, his lips perfectly complimenting his beautifully sinister face.

Your cheeks reddened and you turned away, choking the rest of the yoghurt down. You were feeling way too nervous for your liking- you felt as though you were supposed to act a certain way around him.

You breathed in slowly. “Uh, I need to get to class now.” You adjusted your bag on your shoulders and stood up to walk away, when he called out behind you.

”Have a nice day, MC.” You didn’t look back, but responded. “You too.”

For the rest of the day, you spent your time avoiding everyone, especially Mammon. You knew he would be extremely pissed at you, but you didn’t care. Today was not a good day.

As cute and clingy as he was, you just needed to get away from everyone- you really did. You could understand why Lucifer was frustrated at them half the time- they can be quite a handful.

As the day ended, you were in your last class, the Devildom history. You only had Satan, Asmo and Solomon with you in this class. They sat away from you, but you could hear Asmo’s whispering from miles away. He was being seriously loud.

“You know what happened today? I tried talking to MC, and they literally ghosted me! I think there’s something up!”

Satan agreed with him, “You’re right. Mammon wouldn’t stop complaining today about how he couldn’t find MC.”

Solomon didn’t talk, but you could feel his stare from your spot in the class. You could almost hear his thoughts from how hard he was staring at you.

When the class ended, you packed up as fast as you could and almost ran from how fast you were, you didn’t want to talk to anyone at all.

You could hear Asmo and Satan yelling behind you, but you ignored them and ran away. You didn’t want to answer any of their questions, you don’t want to talk to them.

Your outburst yesterday with Belphegor made you wary of everyone else. You were worried if he had told them what happened, and then they would want to talk to you about it.

You didn’t want to talk about your feelings, you would break if you did. It scared you witless, it terrified you. You didn’t wanna ruin their relationship with Belphegor or you. You didn’t want to be selfish and hurt them with your stupid fear.

The minute you ran into the house, you could tell it was empty. There were no shoes lying around, and nobody was arguing. Perfect, you were by yourself, and there would be no one to bother you.

You kicked off your shoes and got to your room. You locked your door, put away your bag and slithered onto your bed, not having taken off your uniform. God, you were tired.

You wrapped the blankets around you and eased into the mattress. This way, you would feel better. You wouldn’t feel as bad as you usually did, you would feel great when asleep, you were able to finally escape from your wretched world. The world soon became indecipherable, indifferent.

You zoned out and fell asleep.

You woke up to the sound of chattering, laughter and arguing close by. The light creeped in from under your door and ended right at your face. Your room was extremely dark, a change from when you first got home.

You were still groggy and tired, but if you slept any longer then you wouldn’t be able to sleep for the rest of the night.

You were feeling pretty lonely, but to be honest? It may just be better this way. You wouldn’t feel hurt when the program ended and you had to go home, and you wouldn’t ruin a relationship that could last for thousand of more years.

You didn’t leave your room, but you kept your door locked and turned on the light. You decided you would pass the time playing Mononoke Land, a game that Levi introduced to you a while back.

It was quite interesting, and the time passed by quickly, but only by an hour. It was about 6 pm, so you still had a lot of time before you would need to sleep.

You felt jealous of everyone sitting in the living room, enjoying their evening. Asmo was probably painting his nails, Satan could be trying to read a book despite Mammon’s blabbering.

You snickered a bit at the thought of Mammon being yelled at by Satan while Beel ate in the background, and Belphegor-

Oh. Belphegor would be napping, like always. You were jealous of that, as scared you were of him. You wanted the ability to sleep at any time you wanted to, despite the setting or time. It would be really convenient for right about now.

You could feel yourself getting sadder by the moment, but you didn’t know how to deal with it. You were lonely and scared, but you didn’t know where to turn to.

A ping from your DDD shook you from your thoughts.

Solomon- Hello, MC, do you have a minute?

MC- Uh, yeah. Why?

Solomon- You left something behind at school and I forgot about it until now. I have your notebook with me, you forgot it at history.

MC - OH, shoot. Should I wait for you tomorrow or come now? It’s only 6 pm.

Solomon - The Devildom can be quite deceiving when it comes to the seasons, but it’s winter right now, and it’s dark. Don’t worry, I’ll be at the house of Lamentation soon. I wouldn’t want you to have your soul eaten.

You felt your cheeks turn red, he didn’t want you to get hurt.

MC - Thank you, Solomon, I’ll be waiting. Text me first, don’t ring the doorbell.

Solomon - Got it.

You shut off your phone and stared up at the ceiling for a few seconds, wondering about Solomon. Maybe he wasn’t such a bad guy after all, not that you thought he was. After all, he cared for you enough to not risk you getting hurt. How sweet of him.

You messed around on your phone for a bit while waiting for Solomon. You hanged around in your room idly, doing nothing in particular. You then got a notification from your phone. As it turned out, that new feature where you can look at other group chats that you’re not in got activated again.

In the group chat, there was a picture of Mammon on the front page news of Majolish, a fashion magazine. He was modelling again.

Asmo rambled on about him, surprised that his ‘scummy’ older brother got into the first page of Majolish. Honestly, snooping on them was kind of fun. You’ve probably got more than dozens of blackmail from this feature.

Solomon- MC, I’m here.

MC - I’ll be out soon.

You wrapped yourself in a jacket, still in your uniform. You would have to wash that soon, you probably sweat a lot in it.

You tried your best to avoid everyone, making yourself as quiet as a mouse, you hoped. The floors creaked slightly, but they were all probably too preoccupied to notice.

You got to the front door and silently opened it, seeing Solomon outside. He was wearing his casual clothes, but still had that same look on his face. Handsome, too.

”Hello, MC.” He took your notebook out of his pocket and held it in front of you, with his arm stretched. You reached out to grab it, but he snatched it away and looked at you smugly.

”Let’s have a little chat, first. You owe me, don’t you?”

You dumbly stood there, gaping at him. Of course- this was Solomon we were falling about. He’s as sketchy as it could get.

”Oh- fine!” You said, trying your best not to sound pissed.

You put on your school shoes and walked out the door, making sure to close it quietly. Solomon walked with you, not saying a word but you could guess your notebook was still in his pocket.

You sighed, “Look, Solomon, if you’re not going to give it back to me, then can I just go back home? I’m tired.”

He looked at you with a side glance. “I could tell. You’re still in your uniform.” Pausing for a second, he continued. “Why were you acting weird today? I wouldn’t have expected our dear MC to run off like that. So I assumed that something must be up.”

You looked at the ground, clenching your hands in your pockets and keeping your eyes off him. “What’s it to you?”

He stopped walking, and so did you. He chucked, “As a fellow human exchange student, I only want the best for you.” He took your notebook out of his pocket, placing it in your hands. “If you ever find yourself in need, I will be there, no matter the scenario.”

He pat your head, then walked off, calling behind him. “Good evening, MC.”

You stared at his back, confused. He has never been this close to you, why now? You glanced down at your notebook, where he seemed to have placed a little ripped note on it.

Tear-rible mistake on your behalf, leaving your notes behind.

-Solomon :)

It was a horrible pun, really, but that didn’t stop you from laughing out loud in the middle of the street, facepalming yourself. You turned and walked back to the House of Lamentation, trying to contain yourself.

Seeing the house in your view calmed you down a little, and you knew you had to be quiet to avoid Lucifer’s wrath. He could have probably heard you laughing from miles away if he tried hard enough.

You walked up the door and slowly opened it, wincing a little when your shoes scraped the carpet, leaving a little scuff mark. But he was an extreme perfectionist. He would notice that right away.

Panicking, you half ran to your room and locked it, sliding down the door in disbelief and relief. You really needed to find a better way to sneak out.

Your phone buzzed at the same time you thought it, almost as if in agreement.

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maries-gallery · 3 years

Text

Match up for @leonardhoee

Match ups are closed

@leonardhoee

Wow, so first you literally seem so cool ?? And I actually relate to a lot of things you said (crazy how you doing match ups makes you discover new things about yourself too...) Anyways !

I match you with Leonardo !

SFW :

- Okay, the two of you would click together so well. He knows how to read people and wouldn't be taken off by your intimidating aura at all. He actually sees it for what it is, a first impression. This would make him curious about you though and he'd certainly approach you right the day after your arrival. And he is really pleased with what he discovers ! You are actually very easy going and agreeable to talk to ! He is actually very amused by your cocky exterior (especially if you are to interact with Theo) but once again Leonardo is smart and mature enough to know that arrogance is only another name for insecurity. Overall he just really likes your company and the more time you spend together, the more he learns about you, the more he finds himself carried away by your energy. He is a bit taken aback by your punches though, not that it irritates him or anything but he just isn’t used to it, he’d laugh though. You are so small and he is so tall and it is laughable how he becomes a big teddy bear in your presence.

- At first the two of you would probably be very good friends and nothing more. The both of you are just very passionate and both knowledge seekers and huge curious bugs. He loves to talk with you and spend hours rambling about anything he learned or hearing you talk about any theories you may have; all with the flicker of passion in your eyes. Luckily for you, he is also well informed on most things and very eager to answer any of your questions. This dynamic thus leads the two of you to share very long conversations in the library, often stretching out throughout the night and until dawn (Sebastian would often find the two of you napping in the library during the day as a result). You just have so much fun together and you marvel at how easy it is to be yourself around him, he just makes you comfortable beyond belief. He never judges you about your rambles, or your weird research and theory or anything truly. And gosh is this a breath of fresh air ! On the other hand he loves to have someone he can talk and have fun with, someone at his side who matches his energy to a T.

- But as your relationship evolves and as time passes he gets to see new sides of you which only spurs his blossoming feelings on. You start to open up and so does he. Leonardo is in love. He loves how supportive and caring you are when it comes to your friends and to him, he is often the one taking care of others and it is honestly cute and heartwarming how you, a human, take it upon yourself to care for him, a pure blood. Then there is your smile... How he loves it, honestly he’d take any chance he got to put a smile on those lips. It’s just so bright and light, so expressive and yet so natural for you. He also finds your temper quite cute, of course he takes your irritation seriously, don’t get him wrong, but he just loves to know that you are able to stand up for yourself ! And honestly, your banters with Theo are just hilarious. Then he always thought you were beautiful but when you tell him about your modelling experience he is just whipped and so very admirative ! He doesn’t know what modelling is but he understands it as you being a muse of art of some sort (which is kinda the case), so you might have to explain to him what it is. But regardless, this doesn’t change how he feels, you are amazing. But then again modelling isn’t the only thing you do, no you are kind of a whirlwind when it comes to your hobbies and that is amazing ! From martial arts (which reassures him in a sense, you have some ways of defending yourself and he couldn’t be more glad) to drawing, reading and singing... He’d ask you about all of your hobbies and experiences. He just wants to know everything.

- Once you get in a relationship nothing really changes between the two of you, you are still the best of partners and friends, you still laugh together and ramble on and on about whichever topics you find interesting. What does make a difference is how you are both more affectionate towards one another though. Leonardo loves to cuddle with you and nap around with you in his arms, it is just the best way for him to unwind. He is also very flirty and loves to fluster you as he knows your flirting abilities aren’t the best (he finds the blush on your cheeks so adorable, he could flirt with you all day).

- Dates ? Probably shopping trips around town or explorations of new places. He also loves it when the two of you just sit down in the library and talk for hours or read silently. He also loves when you sing to him and would accompany you with a violin or the piano. Then he’d probably ask for you to model for him as he sketches you in one of his many notebooks. But honestly, the two of you could do anything together and he’d be all for it.

- But then the two of you are also more open and more vulnerable around one another, you tell him about your past, about your social anxiety (which he had picked on) and your tendency to overthink. Now, Leonardo makes sure that you know that you can talk to him, he wants you to come to him if you one day doubt his love for you. But honestly with the way he looks at you, completely love drunk and how many words of affection he throws your way there won’t be a lot of days you’ll find yourself doubting. And if it is about something else you are overthinking, he is ready to listen and sort things out with you, to help you through it and care for you. He also wants you to know that these sides of you and your emotions are not a burden. He noticed how you tend to hide your emotions or swallow them and bury them, but he’ll have none of that. You have the right to be emotional and to lean on someone every once in a while, this does not make you weak but human. Honestly he’ll never see you as any less of a strong woman because of some tears trailing down your cheeks. So yeah, expect him to be your very own emotional coach. When it comes to your social anxiety he is also very protective of you in public, and ready to whisk you away from crowds or events if at some point it is too much for you.

- Really your relationship is just wholesome. You’re both very supportive of each other and fiercely protective of one another, Leonardo is always there to reassure you and communication is very fluid between the two of you. You made it a point to be honest to one another and speak up in case of an issue between the two of you and problems are dealt with efficiently and maturely... It is just very safe and very comfortable for the both of you, and you won’t have it any other way. You balance each other perfectly too, him being very laid back and relaxed and you being more anxious and on point. You help each other out and bring out the best in one another.

Song :

Ophelia, The Lumineers

Scenario :

The shuffling of fabric came from the dressing room, golden eyes flickering under the lights of the shop as a certain brown haired man observed the dresses around him, foot tapping at a steady rhythm in the wooden floor. He leaned back in the plush armchair, a smile curving his lips as the curtains finally drew back to reveal your form.

The two of you had been strolling down the streets, enjoying the warm sun on your skin and the cool wind caressing your cheeks when you spotted a shop down the main street. Leonardo could still remember the excitement bubbling in your eyes and the huge smile adorning your lips as you took his hand and walked to the small boutique. The two of you had spent a few minutes outside, looking at the vitrine and the shop itself. From what you could see they had a very wide range of dresses and outfits, all coming in different styles and different shapes and colours. A real candy store for the eye.

“Can we stop there ?” You had queried, eyes looking back at him, bright as the sun above you. And of course you could, he couldn’t refuse you anything, not when you looked at him like this, not ever. Plus, he really loved shopping with you and seeing you try on new outfits.

Fashion had never been his priority, comfortable and effortless looks suit him to a T after all. But when you had told him about your job back in the 21th century and your love for fashion he slowly started to look into it and found himself liking it ! Of course he didn’t have your knowledge on the matter but he enjoyed every time the two of you would enter a shop, trying on things and making your very own runways in the middle of racks and dressing rooms. This was just like you.

You walked out of the dressing room, sporting a long black dress, elaborate and breathtaking. But whether it was the dress in itself or simply your own charm, Leonardo could not tell. You looked good in everything.

You approached him, eyes holding his as you walked confidently.

“So, what do you think ?” You questioned, a side grin curving your lips. To be honest you really liked this dress.

“What can I say, Cara Mia ? It looks gorgeous on you.” He said, standing up from the armchair and walking up to one of the racks before retrieving one of the outfits hung there.

“Though you also looked ravishing in this suit.” He grinned holding up a black suit you had tried on beforehand.

And he was right, it suited you very well too and was very comfortable as well. But women in suits didn’t exactly crowd the streets in 19th century Paris...

“I agree.” You replied, a hand to your chin as you observed the fabric, it felt nice to the touch, silky and light. “Though this would earn me some glares.” You said with a chuckle.

And that’s when you saw it, his trademark smirk and the mischievous glint in his eyes. “Cara Mia would certainly shock the whole of Paris with that.” He admitted, “Though eyes are on you wherever you go already.”

He slowly approached you, arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you against him gently, eyes holding yours captive and your breath hitching in your throat. You could see the admiration he held for you behind those golden irises, the adoration and love flowing through his veins, all for you.

His lips pressed down on your forehead in a light and reverent kiss, the touch like velvet gliding over your skin. He pulled away and offered you a loving smile, your heart swelling in your chest.

“Shall we buy both ?”

NSFW :

- Leonardo is definitely dominant in bed, though he wouldn’t mind if you wanted to take the reins one day (he’d actually find it quite sexy and exciting), but yes generally speaking he is on top. He just loves having control over your body and your pleasure, loves hearing you whimper and see you writhe on the sheets as he brings his fingers here or there, his touch lighting your skin ablaze and setting off raw passion in your bloodstreams. But even so, Leonardo is playful and he loves teasing you so his favourite position has to be cowgirl. He gets to hold onto your hips, his favourite part of you, and to enjoy the view of you pleasuring yourself on him. But don’t be mistaken, he is the one in control here. He is the one to control the circles you draw with these ravishing hips of yours, the one to control your pace and movements, the one to thrust up into you, the moans you let out and the pleads for him to go faster like melody to his ears. A close second would be missionary though, he gets to see your flushed face, kiss and suck on your neck and jaw as you reach your peak.

- Pace wise sex with Leonardo is always passionate and intense, the man being both himself. And most of the time he starts out with slow languid thrusts and movements, to get you warmed up but also to tease you and have you begging for more. Then he is rough, filling you up perfectly and hitting all the right places, hands gripping your hips in a tight hold to keep you steady and in place as he pleases the both of you. Same when he goes down on you (gosh, is he good at it too), his tongue would flicker over your clit and lap at your entrance with so much fervour you actually lose your mind. He is just very skilled and sex with him never leaves you unsatisfied.

- When it comes to kinks, Leonardo is very adventurous and... kinky. So he is willing to try anything with you as long as you talk about it first and both agree on the idea. But his top favourites are overstimulation and bondage. Leonardo loves to take care of you and to pleasure you... But he also loves to ravish you and you bet one orgasm from you isn’t enough for him, he’d pull them out of you like music from a finely tuned violin, eyes drinking in the way your skin flush and your eyes scrunch close as another wave of pleasure crashes onto you, how you lose your mind over the number of times you’ve fallen over the edge. As for bondage, he loves to tie you up and simply tease you to no end, hearing your moans and pleads and seeing your body writhe under his gets him so very hard. Then he also has a non negligible daddy kink and loves to take care of his princess, or punish her, in function of how you behaved. Finally he is one for nice lingerie, a black or red set gets him on his knees for you, ready to pleasure you and give you all of him. You just look so beautiful the breath is knocked out of his lungs.

- Leonardo isn’t particularly one to moan (though the occasional times he does let some moans out of his filthy mouth these are the most beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard). But he grunts and sighs in your ears, his breath caressing your skin and sending blissful shivers down your spine. Though his favourite thing ever is to talk dirty in your ear, let you know all the things he’s going to do to you, how good you’re doing for him and how much he loves you. He is very confident in his ability to get you off with his words alone and rightfully so. However if you are to talk dirty to him he loses his mind, a flush immediately taking over his cheeks and eyes wide and brimming with unabashed desire. On another point, when he comes he tends to hold your hand and lace your fingers, head buried in your breasts or shoulder as he whispers how much he loves you against your skin.

That’s it ! I hope you enjoyed it and that it was worth the wait ! Take care of yourself :)

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp

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cttncndys · 3 years

Photo

𝐏𝐀𝐗𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐀'𝐒 𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐌 𝐅𝐓. 𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐘 ( @almedas )

+ bonus count for my fave under the cut <3

𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝟏𝟎 𝐏𝐄𝐎𝐏𝐋𝐄 𝐇𝐄'𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆?

the 10 people he’s following are : sierra ( of course ) , pringles , oreos , netflix , vans , chipotle , recess ( water brand he drinks ) , tifanny & co , glossier , & ryan reynolds . his reasoning ? he only follows the ten most vital things in his life .

𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐏 𝐌𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐒

who is the most affectionate ?

paxton , this man is so touch starved he is constantly hugging her , grabbing her waist , kissing her , this man simply has no sense of boundaries around her .

who initiates the hand holding ?

sierra , affecionate as he is , he simply isn’t used to like wanting to have his hand held , but when she does it he feels safe , he knows that everything’s going to be okay .

who worries more about the other ?

as much i’d love to say both , it’s definitely sierra , given how high stakes his job is and the fact that he cheats , it’s honestly probably constantly tense when he mentions work .

who is most likely to ask for help ?

paxton , not only because sierra more strong willed than he is , but he simply needs her help with things more often because the lights are on upstairs but no one’s home yk ? def asks sierra how to do basic tasks all the time .

who is the one always losing the keys ?

paxton , sierra def has a place to hang them up , and a little bowl by the door just in case pax forgets to hang them up , but he always put them in some out of pocket place like the vegetable drawer of the fridge .

who leaves little love notes for the other ?

paxton , he’s out super late most nights for work so he definitely uses the days that she’s out at her gigs to scatter little love notes about for semblance of comfort when he’s gone .

who can’t sleep unless the other is there ?

sierra , esp with pax’s late nights , she probably tries to stay up for him only to be asleep by the time he gets there , but he always gives her a kiss on the forehead before crawling in bed next to her .

who is more likely to propose to the other ?

paxton , this man definitely has a wedding ring burning a hole in his pocket , always carries it around waiting for the perfect time because he truly does want to spend the rest of his life with her .

who is more likely to play with the other’s hair ?

sierra , def constantly runs her hands through paxton’s hair , pax just thinks sierra’s hair is too pretty to touch and just stares in awe .

who makes sure the other has meals / stays hydrated ?

sierra , you could not pay paxton to take care of himself , she definitely has to go behind him so he doesn’t forget to do basic necessities and eats proper meals instead of handfuls of oreos all the time .

who is more likely to stand up to anyone for the other ?

both , sierra just on her own would fight anyone who looks at paxton the wrong way , and paxton might be a teddy bear but refuses to allow anything to happen to sierra .

who is the most likely to prepare a surprise for the other ?

sierra , anytime paxton tries to sierra he def ends up telling her after simple pleading and puppy dog eyes , but sierra is way better at keeping things under wraps to surprise him .

who makes the other pinky promise not to do certain things ?

paxton , biggest kid at heart i know , promises aren’t enough for him , he has to pinky promise things in order for them to be official .

who puts a blanket over the other when they fall asleep on the couch ?

paxton , any time he gets home and sees her sleeping on the couch because he’s waiting for her , he’ll put a blanket over her .

who is the little spoon ?

both , depends on the day honestly .

who sings in the shower ?

both , paxton definitely yells the lyrics more than sings but sierra at least tries .

who plays pranks on the other ?

paxton , never anything enough to get him in trouble because he def is terrified of sierra , but just silly dumb things .

who is the one who listens to pop music ?

sierra , because pax is literally a walking meme definitely only listens to bo burnham and dumb comedy songs .

who brings the other a random cup of coffee ?

paxton , he randomly shows up to her gigs and brings her coffee order or a nice little pick me up snack because it’s an excuse to see his girlfriend .

who picks the cheesy movies for date night ?

paxton , has a secret spot for romcoms , anytime a new one comes out or he finds one they haven’t watched together , he puts it on excitedly .

who is most likely to feed the other in public ?

both , they’re that couple .

who gives the other random little compliments ?

paxton , constantly tells her how beautiful he thinks she is , how perfect he thinks she is , and just how much she means to him .

who is always stealing the food from the other’s plate ?

sierra , typical girlfriend shenanigans of thinking that his food looks better and just taking some for herself .

who is most likely to let the other borrow their car ?

both , pretty self explantory .

who makes the list before they go grocery shopping ?

sierra , given the choice paxton would literally just buy junk food and survive off of that , sierra makes him buy much needed staples .

who makes sure the other takes their meds when sick ?

both , they’re both equally stubborn and super busy that they forget to take their meds .

who watches sports and has to teach the other the rules ?

paxton , def watches the sports in the relationship and has to explain to sierra the rules , without a doubt .

who pulls the other to their feet for a dance in the living room ?

paxton , especially when sierra has had a hard day , he pulls her close and put on old love songs and sways with her .

who has to keep reminding the other to hurry up or they’ll be late ?

sierra , pax will literally smother her with kisses and almost become late to work , and no matter how many times she reminds him he will sit there with her mesmerized .

who is the one most likely to get a tattoo with the other’s name ?

paxton , has def offered to do it before but sierra has talked him out of it because she thinks it’s tacky .

who cooks meals for the other ?

sierra , i don’t think paxton has cooked anything a day in his life , this man is incompetent .

who spams the other with memes ?

paxton , a majority of their instagram chat is def just paxton sending her memes he’s found on his explore page .

𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝐅𝐔𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄

𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑰𝑳𝑳𝑬 ��𝑰𝑴𝑩𝑬𝑹𝑳𝒀-𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑨

gender : female

general appearance : curly dark brown hair , dark brown eyes , 5’7” , & a deep dimple on her left cheek .

personality : she's optimistic and gracious . of course she's also capable , gentle and disciplined . camille has less pleasant traits too . her narcissism and inconsideration tend to get in the way even at the best of times.

special talents : guitar ! which acts as an escape from the rambunctious household

who they like better : she won’t admit it, but paxton . literally glued to paxton’s hip but claims that he likes them both the same.

who they take after more : appearance wise , sierra . personality wise sierra to a t , they tend to not see eye to eye because of this but love each other first and foremost .

personal headcanon: when sierra was pregnant with camille , paxton would read her the same bedtime story, and now anytime she has a nightmare she asks paxton to read her the same story .

faceclaim : kiana madiera , insp. insp. insp.

𝑯𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑹𝑰𝑿 𝑲𝑰𝑴𝑩𝑬𝑹𝑳𝒀-𝑴𝑶𝑹𝑨

gender : male

general appearance : short tight curly hair, dark brown eyes, 6′1″, a birthmark on his hand, & a small scar behind his ear from when camille scratched him

personality : he's focused and decisive . of course he's also punctual , open and curious , but those are often overshadowed by tendencies of being thoughtless as well. of course hendrix has plenty of character faults too . his unfriendliness and pretentiousness are far from ideal, much to the annoyance of others .

special talents : film making ! extremely talented, had an obsession with directing and films when he was younger, lowkey a pretentious asshole, but he pulls it off

who they like better : sierra, because she tends to be more honest with her criticism of his films, but also because he models a lot of himself after her .

who they take after more : appearance wise , he takes after sierra . personality wise, he tends to take after both paxton and sierra , because honestly just desperate to make both his parents proud.

personal headcanon : he has been in a bunch of different film festivals, and even though paxton has offered to help pay for actors, he uses his family and friends as actors instead

faceclaim : jordan fisher , insp. insp. insp.

#˛ ⠀ * ⠀ ♡ 𝐏𝐀𝐗𝐓𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐀 : 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫 ⧽ known as something the stars made.#( SURPRISE SHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWTY )#( if you don't yell at me abt this i'm going to be thoroughly disappointed )#( in fact live tweet me your reaction )

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shatterstar · 3 years

Note

Please tell me about shatterstar's Childhood

oh my god anon okay I’m assuming in context of what I’ve recently posted you want like... my version of events rather than what’s canon but just in case I hope you know that there’s basically zero canon material that actually describes his childhood/young adulthood beyond “I was a warrior born” or whatever the fuck. if you want to know about that idk go on the fucken... marvel wiki page or something

also--I hate that I have to put this out here and I doubt anyone would actually do this but just in case--I have spent like 1 million hours thinking about this because I have brain disorders and it is very close to my heart so please do not A) use this in fics, etc without letting me know/getting my permission in advance or B) reblog this post

anyways. this is a can of worms so I’m going to do a cheeky lil

first we have to get something out of the way: I hate the “shatterstar’s his own grandpa” paradox. I am sorry if this angers people but it makes me mad so I ignore it. the reason it bothers me is because it means alison blaire essentially married her grandson, which is A) weird and B) bad from a genetics perspective.

in my version of canon ‘star IS the biological child of longshot and dazzler but longshot wasn’t cloned using ‘star’s DNA because..... oh god... another whole separate post can be made about this but... in my head, on mojoworld the way genetic engineering works is not really the same as it is here. here genetic engineering generally means taking an existing genome and inserting or deleting genes. this is how they make, for example, animals that glow, or confer pesticide resistance to plants.

but on mojoworld I think the way they genetically engineer is more like... the way we mechanically engineer. like the entire organism is built from the ground up. there’s a master genetic blueprint which is essentially the “minimal genome” required for a functioning humanoid. this was created by study of Earth humans by arize and the other genetic engineers. they can then go in and customize by adding elements to the genome that code for the signals/building blocks that control things like height, strength, hair color, eye color, having hollow bones etc. so in my head longshot was sort of... designed with ‘star as the inspiration, but not directly cloned. that wouldn’t even make sense anyways because A) different hair color and B) LONGSHOT HAS 3 FINGERS ON EACH HAND and shatterstar has 4!! thats NOT HOW CLONES WOULD WORK!!!!

(side note, the concept of a minimal functional genome is a real thing in biology! some scientists have taken a bacterium that already has a small genome and reduced it to the minimum size required for viability. here is a wikipedia article on it and here is the original paper (DOI: 10.1126/science.286.5447.2165) which I can explain in more detail because I took a class on synthetic biology which this technically falls under and I had to read this paper very closely).

fuck I’ve written 4 paragraphs and not even talked about his childhood yet. I am so sorry. anyways. so the way I think they raise the gladiators on mojoworld is they create them in batches of 5 to 10 identical copies of a certain “model”, place each copy in a different “class” with a set of 2-3 mentors/teachers, and train them to fight until they are 13 or 14. until this time the only names they have are the names that identify the “model”--like for shatterstar that would be gaveedra-seven where the model identifier is “gaveedra” and he is (in the lore that I have come up with) the 7th of 8 total.

the reason they create multiples and put them in different classes is each mentor is going to have a slightly different style of teaching which is going to work better for some and worse for others, so it allows them to have more mass production while increasing the chances of creating a truly great champion. it’s classic nature versus nurture--the genetic engineers create your nature, but you don’t end up exactly the same as others of your model. maybe you get an edge, maybe you don’t.

another thing that happens is different mentors believe in different ways of raising the kids in their care. shatterstar specifically was raised in a class where there was absolutely zero emotional development at all and no attachments allowed beyond fighting alliances. that’s not the case in all classes, and it also had the effect of making him somewhat of an outsider even within the other gladiators as he got older.

at 13 or 14--and yes I realize this is very fucked up but dude its fucking mojoworld idk what you expected--they start participating in fights. the first ones aren’t to the death and they’re as teams and they’re not usually televised they’re more like high school sports games that are attended by scouts (here, they’re “sponsors”--I think that’s a canonical term but I honestly can’t remember) and if you get sponsored you leave your class and join a new “team” that’s really just a bunch of people who all have the same sponsorship. this is where things can get interesting because they’ve all been raised with slightly different fighting styles but more importantly, slightly different degrees of Personhood.

also at this point I should mention that by this time, there are usually only 2, maybe 3 of each model left. either they died or were recognized as not having talent so they were sent to eventually fulfill other roles in the network. in ‘star’s case there was just him and gaveedra-five. once you get to the stage where you’re sponsored and you’re actually fighting to the death one of the first people you’ll fight is any remaining members of your model group.

by the time you’re the only one left of your group, you’re also eligible to earn a stage name. this usually happens if you have a particularly epic fight with a lot of viewers, you win and the commentators will typically say something like “Let’s give this crowd a real name to cheer!” and they’ll have a few candidate names and they’ll kind of just pick one. AUGH I actually have this scene written out in story form but its too long so I think I’ll save it.... :)

after you get a name you also get a cool outfit and usually some kind of mark or tattoo that serves as a brand. this brings me to another important point--shatterstar inherited the X-gene from alison and therefore he IS a mutant. his mutation is the swords vibration thing and the glowing eye. the star mark is a tattoo and teleportation is benjamin russell’s mutation (how he fits into all this is... for another post). basically after he got his name the costuming department guys were like “hey your eye glows, you look like the Legendary Warrior of Old, Longshot, we’re gonna pattern your look after him” so they gave him the star tattoo and the outfit that’s literally inverse colors of longshot’s.

also this brings me to another aside: you’re probably wondering “if he’s the biological kid of longshot and alison how are there 8 gaveedras?” when the genetic engineers got a hold on him as a baby they were like Sick! free baby! free genetic material! thats our job done for us! so they cloned him (in the traditional sense) and made 7 copies. this was also to kind of conceal his identity as technically being from outside mojoworld, which would make him stick out and thus be a target. they DID edit out the x-gene in the other gaveedra models though. this wasn’t a problem for ‘star because his mutation didn’t manifest until he was already sponsored.

I think that’s .... pretty much it for macroscopic lore on what it was like to be a kid gladiator on mojoworld. now let me give you some Tidbits of his life specifically:

like I said he was raised in a particularly cold and ruthless class. the mentors that raised him are like well-known by everyone to produce some of the best warriors but also there’s discourse on mojoworld because some people say perfectly emotionless killing machines aren’t as fun to watch. when he was sponsored there were 4-5 others in the same sponsorship and they were like Theres Something Wrong With You LOL

they speak earth languages on mojoworld because they’re imitating the broadcasts they (the spineless ones) used to hear from earth. however, most of the lower-class as well as almost all arena fighters and other television personalities speak cadre or other languages which are native to the planet. the stage names are all vaguely in english, but the gladiators don’t really understand them at first.

shatterstar got his name before he got the glowing eye, and when he learned what stars are, and saw his eye as a little star, he was like wow :) this is Me :) which is why that name is so important to him. it’s also one of the first things that wholly belonged to him.

(you can’t see stars on mojoworld because of light pollution and also because it’s a pocket dimension and there just aren’t that many stars to see)

I hate to bring up the s**ley miniseries but I do think it would be interesting to have him have a sort of ... mentor/first friend, similar to the concept of gringrave but they were NOT in a relationship. it was more like... another kid who was a year or so older than him got a soft spot for him and helped him not be so clueless. she didn’t make as much progress as xforce did, obviously. but they were.... something like friends.

unfortunately she was used by spiral to get shatterstar to murder the first rebel guy who tried to get him out of there. then she got switched sponsors (this can happen) and he had to kill her, and he was like well I will simply never develop any kind of attachment to anyone ever again.

he almost didn’t make it out of the first training session with his sponsorship group (this is semi-canon--there’s a reference when he’s teaching terry to swordfight to almost not surviving the first time he was in a gladiator class or whatever it was).

the closest he ever came to losing was the day he got the name. that’s why the crowds loved it so much.

the double-bladed sword was a gimmick weapon but when he got his mutation they realized it works way better if there’s resonance between two parallel blades so they redesigned it as an actual weapon.

(forgot this but I feel like I should include it) at 17 he escaped the arenas and joined the cadre alliance. two years later he came to earth and joined xforce.

I think that’s going to have to be it for now because it’s literally almost midnight and I have work tomorrow and I did NOT intend to stay up this late but I did. thank you for this opportunity anon :) feel free to ask me any other questions and also I realize a lot of this probably makes no fucking sense and that’s because I am not a writer or anything I’m just a biochemist with brain problems that cause me to obsess over stupid shit

#answered #shatterstar #GHKDJFDKHGRJ I KNOW THERES SOMETHING WRONG W/ ME THAT THIS FEELS LIKE EXPOSING MY SOUL....#Anonymous #long post #NSCU #<-thats my new tag since other people have asked about this #it stands for nadine shatterstar cinematic universe

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shotosprincess · 3 years

Text

When he loves me — Iwa ♡︎ Oikawa

LISTEN TO: “ CLOUD 9 “ — BEACH BUNNY

ART: UNKNOWN ( i found it as a sticker on picsart since i couldnt find any good iwaoi screencaps so if yk who the artist is plspls lmk !! ty !! )

｡･:*:･-: ✧ :,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆

pairing: iwa x oikawa

summary: iwa shyly plays oikawa a song he wrote on a whim ,, and years later ,, after they fell apart ,, oikawa attends one of iwa’s concerts and hears their song,, the song,, once more .

genre: angst + fluff !! <3 ugh i love oikawa my bby but i absolutely love him and iwa together sm too ajjdjjf

a/n: 3am writing for comfort innit (•̀ᴗ•́)و smhsmh it’s lowkey so dramatic ?? idk why i was feeling so melancholic ?? but i live for the yearning anyways lmao <//3

“ Hey...wanna...hear something I’ve been working on? “

Iwa’s voice shifted to one of a far softer tone, unusually uncertain of himself as he gripped the bedsheets beneath him in an anxious hold, turning away from Oikawa whilst a deep vermillion blush tainted his shy-stricken face.

The hazel-haired setter lifted his mouth into a gentle smile, skin mirroring a similar red to Iwa’s. His head lolled to the side, and Iwa swore he felt something flutter within him. The fist which he clutched the bedsheets within closed even further.

“ Sure, Iwa-chan! “

A hard gulp. Iwa swallowed his nerves down, fingers hovering over the strings of his freshly-purchased guitar, hesitant. Trembling, even.

Light wisps of brown swept just over Oikawa’s eyes as he put down the volleyball he had been mindlessly spinning, and covered Iwa’s hands with his own. He looked up with a reassuring grin, deepened-honey gaze colliding with one of the enchanting midnight sky.

“ It’s okay. It’s just me. But of course, you don’t have to play if you don’t wan— “

Iwa swats his hand away. “ Of course I wanna, dumbass! “ He barked.

With a frustrated huff, his fingers find a home amongst the sound as they begin to delicately strum the translucent strings. His eyes fell closed, lost in the music, albeit fairly cliche, as he wordlessly played the song which was most special to him.

For what reason it held such a cherished place in his heart, he did not know. Not truly, at least. Admittedly, he had written it purely on a whim, clutching onto the fleeting remnants of a foreign euphoric high. The crazed rush of fingers furiously clacking against the keyboard filled the silence of his room, lasting well into the evening. He had so much to say, so much to express, and yet it was only through the words appearing on the screen in which he could ever hope to communicate it.

He had never even planned on sharing it. After all, it was merely a crappy, rushed song put together purely by the rawness of an unknown emotion, and during ungodly hours of the night out of all times. It was nothing special, really.

To him, at least.

And yet in a hushed, timid tone, he began to sing:

“ I don’t wanna seem the way I do...but I’m confident when I’m with you... “

Oikawa’s lips parted in sheer awe. The delicate swirls of the instrumental blended flawlessly into the angelic quality of Iwa’s singing. His muscles tensed. He shook it away.

What the hell is this? Was he...nervous? No, no, it can’t be. This is Oikawa-fucking-Tooru we’re talking about!

He could do nothing but stare intently in a silent adoration as he allowed his heartbeat to meld with the smoothness of the melody, sweeping him out of Iwa-chan’s bedroom and into a whole other universe entirely. One where there exists no pain, no sadness, no fear. One where tears dried before they could even splatter upon the ground. One where everything was happy and perfect and...good.

—

IWA

Five years have passed, yet I miss him all the same. If anything, the ache has only grown to, somehow, prove itself increasingly unbearable over the time we’ve spent apart. My stare falls upon my guitar. Not the new one, which is this modern, flashy model with a bold red design, but my first-ever guitar, boasting its worn-out strings and dulled body. The hole in my heart digs itself impossibly deeper.

We had dated not long after that night—the night I played my song to him, and suddenly it became our song. We would whip it out like a handy party trick whenever we’d hangout with the rest of the team, and it was...nice to say the very least. Well, while it lasted, of course. Highschool love, teenage love, is constantly fleeting. Temporary. That was my philosophy at least, until Oikawa Tooru appeared and changed everything. I disregarded every sense of rationality, and all for the blissful rush of romance which he offered. The sneaking out, the small notes snuck into each other’s lockers, the way he draped his jacket over me when I got cold, the tender kisses shared in a darkened room.

I loved it. All of it. And when I lost him, I missed him too. All of him.

I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised, though. After all, teenage love is but a transient feeling, is it not? I had to drill the reiteration of my old motto back into my head when we split, so that I may never allow myself to yield to the temptations of love, or at least the attractive promise of one, ever again. Eventually, we had to go our separate ways. He pursued volleyball, and I chased relentlessly after a different growing passion of mine, though honestly rather unexpected; music.

And now here I am. Sitting backstage at my own show, waiting patiently for my cue. My foot taps a random rhythm against the floor as I mentally debate with myself whether or not my choice for the opening song truly was the best option.

I mean, what’s the worst that could happen?

He might be watching.

Fair, but would he even recognize me? Does he even remember me at all? I mean, it’s been so long...

I think he’d remember something as sentimental as the song you first played him. I mean, you were the first guy he ever dated.

Yeah, keyword: “ dated “. He’s probably moved on by now.

Shit, do you think he’s found someone new already? What if he brought them to the show?

Nah, nah. That’s highly unlikely. Impossible, even. The latter, that is. It’s not exactly that popular of a show.

Right, you’re right. So there’s nothing to worry about. Hakuna-fuckin-matata, right?

I suck in a sharp breath as the lights come on, laughing dryly.

Hakuna-fuckin-matata.

—

OIKAWA

My hands fiddle with one another as I push my way past the busy crowd to find a spot amongst the front row. A cheery girl with astonishingly-saturated red hair and an almoat-overwhelming brightness about her, greets me. I scoff, amused.

A fangirl, no doubt. Charming.

“ Oikawa! Ohmygoshohmygosh, Oikawa Tooru!! Hi!! I’m—I’m— “

I glance at the front row, which is only a few steps away, as her blubbered words start to blur together. I laugh.

“ A fan, right? Want my autograph or something? A picture, maybe? “

Her eyes light up vastly and she begins to bounce up and down with the same enthusiasm I’ve noticed to be common among practically all fangirls.

“ YES! Ohmygosh, yesyesyesYES!! “

My grin widens as I click my blue pen, which I carry around for autographs ( oh, the pains of being famous ), and hurriedly sign my name on her collared shirt. It was a fairly pretty garment, I’ll admit, but at this moment I didn’t really care, and I’m sure neither did she, judging by the way she squealed excitedly and took a spam of what had to be a million-and-one selfies with it.

I finally find a place among the jumping people at the front, taking in the atmosphere. The lights dim, and brighter white ones turn on in their place.

The show is about to start.

—

IWA

“ Hey, everyone. I— “ The mic whines with feedback. I wince, wrapping my free hand around it and trying again.

“ I’m—I’m opening with a song that’s very dear to me. I wrote it way back in highschool, but it’s always stuck with me, kinda like a safety net...of sorts. I uh, hope you enjoy. “

Shit, why am I being so damn awkward? I’ve never been this awkward before a show. Maybe it’s because of that damn opening song. Oh well. Too late to back out now.

Irritated, I push the thought away, wetting my lips as the drowning claps and whoops from the crowd cheer me on. My hand hovers just over the strings. It’s shaking. No matter. I close my eyes, and imagine him holding them. Him encompassing my hands within the warmth of his, just like he did all those years, which were now lost in the past. Him looking at me, him telling me it’s okay. Him.

I breathe all my nerves out.

Him.

And I begin to play.

The awkwardness melts away almost instantaneously as I pour every dripping ounce of my heart out into the song, the music swelling wildly with every emotion I had forced in for the dreariness of these five years. My eyes shoot open when the chorus hits. I feel like I’m king of the world.

I catch a familiar set of eyes. Richly brown. Deep.

Oh shit.

My breath hitches when I realize who they belong to; Him. His. He-

No, no, it couldn’t be. Could it?

It felt too real, as if I’ve somehow managed to reduce his very existence to nothing but romanticized self indulgent daydreams of what we once had, woven into the vast vagueness of song lyrics with a naïve hope of what could’ve been. And now here he was, at my concert of all places, for god knows what reason. The colourful lights fell upon his face in the most flattering manner, though admittedly I suppose anything would be flattering on him either way. But under this light especially, at my concert, he looked nothing short of perfect. Of lovely.

But of course he was. This was Oikawa-fucking-Tooru, after all.

The chorus hits with a sharp accent. I belt with all that I am, for the boy who took a rough sketch of a dream and made it reality, for the boy who found an unmatched sense of home among those of his highschool volleyball team, for the boy who wound up so foolishly falling in love with his best friend. For him, for my fans, but most of all, for me.

“ But when he loves me, I feel like I’m floating, when he calls me pretty, I feel like somebody— “

I maintain eye contact with him. It’s scary, burning holes into my tattered soul, which I had pieced together so carefully with cathartic lyrics scratched into the pages of creased notebooks. I’m secretly scared that his gaze will somehow break it all down again. But that’s when I finally understand; it’s him. This, this song, it’s about him. It’s always been about him. There will be no one else, could be no one else for me. That...sheer elation, the unfiltered emotion which sparked this song to begin with—I understood now. That was love. More specifically, love which my chest held for Oikawa. It’s as if I’ve been harshly disillusioned to see what I’d been unconsciously denying all these years, seeing him here. It’s always been Oikawa. How could I not have known? After all, I’m constantly recalling the day he held me in a tight embrace after one of our best matches, happy tears staining my damp jersey as he whispered in my ear the praise I’ve subconsciously always wished to hear.

“ You did good. “

Though it seems painfully mundane, simple to anyone else, it was...different, coming from his lips, hearing it in his voice. I took that compliment and kept it close to me for all eternity, immortalizing it within the varying notes of this song. I stare right back at him with a newfound fervour, an unknown intent, a epiphanic strength.

“ Even when we fade eventually to nothing, you will always be my favourite form of lovely. “

His eyes widen.

—

OIKAWA

My heart clenches as Iwa freely powers through the rest of the song. But during this moment, it feels as though it was created solely for us. As if the universe, as if fate itself had decided that despite the harshness of this world, and every little force fighting to keep us apart, this one moment, if anything, was ours. Truly ours. Our song, our moment. Ours. Time suspended itself indefinitely as the onyx hearth of his gaze finally met with mine. Unexpectedly enough, it stayed there.

And everything fell into place.

The song didn’t take me to a paradise without tears, or pain, or sorrow anymore. It took me to a place with Iwa in it. I realize now that...I want the tears. I want the pain. I want the grief. I want the good and the bad and the light and the dark, so long as I can have Iwa there with me through it all. I want him. All of him. I’ve want to love him enough to love his “ unglam “ moments and his admirable aspects all the same. I want to be there with him through every body-wrecking tear, every hearty laugh, and every glimmer of happiness. I want to be able to see the face he makes during a scary movie, to open an umbrella for him during the rain. I want to see the sunlight glow upon his cheek, I want to count the stars with him until I fall asleep. I want everything about him, for to me, he is everything. And it’s this song...this damned song which brought it all back.

It was ours. And I realize now...it was about...me. I mean, I’ll admit that I’ve always been a little more on the conceited side, but how could you deny it? It had to be. It had to. Had to. I wanted it to, at least. I wanted it to be about me so desperately, it sent a cold pain through my chest. A single, lonely tear falls down my cheek as the crowd around me erupts into a sea of laughter and off-tune singing from the audience.

What if it wasn’t? I mean, you guys broke up. You told him you moved on. Yes, it was a lie to lessen the pain, but he didn’t know that. What if it was about someone else completely and you’d just been an idiot this whole time? What if—

The concert comes to a close much faster than I thought it would, much faster than I would’ve ever wished for it to. I don’t know what I’m doing, what I’m thinking, but my legs move before I even have a chance to question them. I’ve always been one to think before acting, hence why I’m such a star on the court, but this time, my emotions seem to be taking over. I don’t know what’s come over me, what this unusual, hot feeling is. It’s exciting and intimidating all at once, and I hate it because I know what it must be. In a hot flash, I find myself standing at the door of Iwa’s changing room. How many bodyguards I must have recklessly shoved out of the way to get here in the blur of adrenaline, I don’t even want to begin to think about.

My hand freezes over the door. “ Iwa “ is engraved in bold gold letters with a deeply-etched star sticking out at the bottom. Taking a deep breath, I knock frantically.

“ I-Iwa-chan? It’s uh...it’s Oikawa. “

—

IWA

I pause in the midst of buttoning up my shirt. A solid three are left undone. But his voice...how could I ignore it? Ignore him? I haven’t heard his voice in what feels like eternity, but I’d be kidding myself if I had said I’d forgotten it. The constant yearning was always so irritating. Such a pain. At least it made for decent music, I mean, I’ve been booking shows. But alas, one problem before another.

“ O-Oikawa? “ I slowly pace to the doorknob as I twist it open.

Holy shit.

It is him after all. He hasn’t changed a bit. He remains the charming, handsome man I remember him to be, even after all this time has passed.

“ How’d you get—why are you here? “

“ Iwa, there’s...there’s just...there’s something I need to ask. “

“ Huh? “

“ That song...our song.... “

“ Shit, right! I, uh...sorry. I didn’t ask you about it because I honestly didn’t expect you to show up at all. It’s been what, five years? “ I stumble subtly over my words, rubbing the back of my neck.

He turns away sheepishly. Almost...longingly, even.

“ Yeah...it has. “

He clicks his tongue.

“ Who, uh...who was that song about? The curiosity’s been eating at me. “

A heat rises to my cheeks. A pause.

“ I—It—Ugh, fuck it. “

I’ve never been the best at talking directly to Oikawa, not since I realized that what I felt for him extended to something past the bounds of friendship. So I decided to do the only thing I knew to do in that moment—show him instead.

My lips crash against his as he slams the door behind him. The palpable tension between us is shattered immediately, and everything is faded out into insignificance. All that matters is the man in my arms, the man I’d been longing so desperately, so hopelessly for all this fucking time. I kiss him against the smoothness of the door, hands immediately trailing to his soft locks. I twirl and twine them as I see flashes, bright hues of heaven itself. His lips upon mine are the most perfect fit. His touch is painfully intoxicating, and I show him, wordlessly, with an unparalleled fervour—just who the song was about. He melts into it, matching my energy with a foreign sense of passion.

—

OIKAWA

“ Do you think...the universe is gonna try to separate us again? “ I ask softly, voice barely even a whisper. Tears wet my lashes at the very thought of being without him again. For those five years, though I was living my dream...it didn’t feel complete. Not without him. I blink them away aggressively, focusing on the night sky above us. My head is resting in his lap, and we’re simply...existing together beneath the curtain of darkened pools which hung above our twined bodies.

Iwa strokes my hair nonchalantly as he interlocks his fingers with mine. “ Of course. It always will. But we found each other didn’t we? And even after...even after this life has passed and we’re reduced to nothing but ash, I’m convinced we’ll meet again. One way or another. “

He tucks a straying tuft of hair from brushing my lashes.

“ Even then...even then you’ll still be my favourite form of lovely. Or whatever. “ He scoffs at his own over-poetic response, looking away with a tiny smirk.

“ Okay, Mr. Songwriter! “ I tease, nudging his side in a playful manner.

He rolls his eyes, bending down to kiss me once more.

For the first time in a long time, I feel complete. I’m on cloud 9.

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu fic #haikyuu oikawa #haikyuu!!#fanfic #oikawa oneshot #oikawa scenarios #oikawa fic #iwaizumi x oikawa #iwaoi #iwaoi fic #iwaizumi imagine #iwazumi imagines #oikawa tooru #iwaizumi hajime

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ruewrites · 3 years

Text

We’re Blooming Together Chapter 2: Your Secret

AO3

Ship: Solomon/Asmo

Word Count: 2338

Warnings: None

Chapter 1-Chapter 2-Chapter 3-Chapter 4-Chapter 5-Chapter 6-Chapter 7-Chapter 8-Chapter 9-Chapter 10-Chapter 11-Chapter 12

Asmo couldn’t decide if he thought Solomon’s lips would be rough or soft. Honestly, either one would be fine. What ultimately mattered was he was a good kisser. Of course, Asmo didn’t know really, but he’d heard from his past girlfriends. He’d heard more from them as well. He dreamed of him every now and again, sometimes they were odd but other times he could feel his lips on his own, and how his hands felt on his hips. Not that it meant much. Dreams were dreams, and Solomon wasn’t interested in anything more than friends. Of course Asmo had had a crush on him, one that lasted for a long time, and it had been bad enough that he spent hours sobbing in his room when he got his first girlfriend. Slowly he got over it and started dating other people. Guys, girls, didn’t matter. Yeah he still had a little thing for Solomon, but it didn’t mean much in the long run.

Solomon just wanted to be friends, and that was it.

Still didn’t stop the dreams. They were always simple, Solomon’s hands traveling up his shirt and gently brushing against his hips, light kisses going up his neck until he could whisper sweet words of affirmation and love in his ear, and then his lips on his-

And then a blaring alarm.

Asmo groaned as he rolled over in bed, hand roaming the counter until he found his phone and was able to turn off the offending noise. With a shudder, he wrapped the blankets around himself tighter. Getting up would be a hassle today. It was cold inside and out and Asmo wanted nothing more than to stay in his warm bed for a little longer, but he had a routine to keep. He slipped his feet into the slippers he kept neatly next to his bed. For a moment he contemplated bringing the blanket with him but ultimately deciding against it. He certainly didn’t want to snag the silk on the floor.

Even if he was sluggish now his beauty routine would be sure to wake him up, it always did. Asmo had a few pictures framed, some taped, next to his vanity. Some were of him and his brothers, some were him and Solomon, others were individuals of them, or some group combination. Some would say that Asmo gave his affections out too easily and that it was easiest bought if you had a pretty face and sweet enough words on your tongue. While that was somewhat true, only those Asmo truly loved got a space next to his bureau. Each photo not only held one of his loved ones, but a dear memory as well.

Some past lovers had had an issue with some of the pictures, mainly those that involved Solomon. Or maybe it was just Solomon in general. Or maybe it was the special relationship they had. Asmodeus had never been afraid to show his affections and he’s always been physical. Especially with Solomon.

He didn’t really understand why some had had an issue with it in the first place.

Asmo never hid how special Solomon was to him. They’d known each other for almost their entire lives. Hell, they’d gone to their senior prom together! As friends of course. Asmo had been broken up with the week before, and in the middle of running mascara and messy eyeshadow, Solomon had gently asked if he wanted him to take him. It was a bit of a fiasco really. Neither of them matched each other, and then the corsage (that they talked about getting for the aesthetic) didn’t match either of them. Despite it all, Asmo instead in joking tones that they made quite the stunning couple who took some rather stunning pictures together. They were some of Asmo’s favorites too.

He opened his bedroom door carefully. He would never forget the day he found himself covered in paint because Mammon forgot about an assignment he had due that day. It had completely ruined his entire look. Asmo probably would have killed him if Lucifer hadn’t intervened. Speaking of Lucifer-

His oldest brother mulled about the kitchen, filling his traveller mug with coffee and wrapping up his breakfast to take to work. Beel was shoveling eggs into his mouth, toast, bacon, and bananas surrounding his plate in line to be eaten and a Belphie slumped against his shoulder. Belphie had never been a morning person. Getting him up for school had always been a struggle to the point where Lucifer had considered getting him into any form of school transportation in the morning a success since the twins had been in middle school. Asmo had spent his senior year driving the twins to school with him, just so they’d all have a little extra time to get ready (or in Belphie’s case, sleep). They’d struck up a deal where Asmo wouldn’t tell Lucifer about Belphie going to school in his pajamas if Belphie didn’t snitch on all the times Asmo snuck out. In Asmo’s personal opinion, it worked out pretty nicely for both of them.

“Good morning Lucifer! Beel, Belphie,” Asmo sang. He ruffled the twins’ hair, earning a grumble from Belphie and a stifled “good morning” from Beel.

“Good morning Asmodeus.” Lucifer turned his head to look at Asmo as he popped one of the bagels into the toaster and setting the cream cheese on the counter. “Any plans or can we expect you home for dinner tonight?”

“As far as I’m aware,” he giggled.

Then Lucifer gave him the look.

“Fine. Yes Dad. I’ll be home,” Asmo huffed.

Lucifer rolled his eyes before setting the coffee pot back into place. “I could do without the sass, but thank you. Satan is on duty tonight, if anything changes text him,” he said, packing up his things nice and orderly. He turned around and addressed Asmo in a tone he and the rest of the brothers had been familiar with.

“And please, keep yourself out of trouble and be safe.”

“I will Luci, promise.”

Campus was always so pretty in the fall. There was one spot that Asmo particularly liked next to the campus gardens. Underneath a large tree sat a wrought iron table with two matching chairs. It felt partially hidden from the rest of campus and was a perfect spot when you wanted to be alone with your thoughts. Asmo liked to sit there to work on some of his more creative assignments. The changing colors of the trees and variety of flora in the garden served as muses for some of his design and had birthed some of his proudest works.

“Asmodeus!”

Asmo looked up, and his face immediately lit up. Solomon had his bag slumped over his shoulder and a coffee cup in each hand. He placed the cups on the table, sliding one towards Asmodeus before sitting in the chair opposite of him and letting his bag fall to the ground.

Solomon had moved out of his old house and into a small apartment for a change of pace a year or two ago. His roommate Simeon had already been living there with his nephew and had been looking for another person to help split rent once their old roommate moved out. Asmo had seen the place a few times, it was small but Solomon liked his room and how there had been room for a bookshelf and a few of his other things. That didn’t mean that Solomon’s room was neat and organized, but Asmo didn’t blame him for liking the place and Simeon and his nephew were both nice enough. It was also nice when he wanted somewhere to work quietly.

Asmo picked up the cup Solomon slipped him and sipped at it with a smile. It had whipped cream on top that had a slight pumpkin flavor with cinnamon on top. The drink itself was a sweet and creamy hazelnut. “Oooh they have their fall specials back! You always know just what I want,” Asmo cooed, placing the drink back down, a safe distance from his sketch pad.

“I would hope so, considering I’ve been your errand boy to the campus cafe the past three years.”

“You have more points and perks than I do!”

“Because I keep buying your coffee,” Solomon’s tone was teasing. He never really minded getting Asmodeus’ coffee. He’d been doing things for him for years, but he never minded. Asmodeus’ usually found a way to repay him, but even if he didn’t Solomon would probably still do things for him. It was something he’d done without thinking most of the time, they were always little things that reminded him of Asmodeus.

Asmodeus had rolled his eyes and taken another sip of his coffee, “So, did you just come by to say hi to little ol’ me in between classes?”

“Well yes, it’s not unusual is it?” he asked, “But I was also hoping to show you something.” Asmo quirked an eyebrow as Solomon started digging around in his bag, pulling out three cups and a marble. He set them up on the table and pointed at the one the marble was under. Asmo could help the smile that spread across his lips, nor the chuckle that escaped him as he played along, keeping an eye on the cup as it spun around on the table. Solomon had gotten into magic tricks sometime in middle school. He always practiced them on Asmodeus, but back then most of them had been little card tricks. He’d always thought it’d been cute.

Asmo pointed at the cup off to the side and Solomon grinned as he lifted it. The other two cups followed, all three empty. “Wait, wait, I think I see it,” Solomon was grinning widely as he reached behind Asmodeus’ ear and brought the marble in front of his face. Asmo broke out into laughter.

“You’re such a nerd.”

“And yet you indulge in my interests.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t enjoy them.”

Asmo picked up his pencil back off the table and went back to putting the finishing touches on his newest design. Solomon watched for a moment. He’d always liked Asmodeus’ little designs. They were rather unique and alluring, just like him. “When’s that one due?”

“It’s part of a collection, so not for a while. Buuuut-” he stopped and flipped a few pages back and pointed to another one he’d already finished, “I have this one finished and just need a model. And I still have your measurements from every other time my most wonderful Solomon has modeled for me.”

“You used up all your little brother tokens?”

“Unfortunately.”

“And your big brother tokens?”

“Those too. I owe the twins more favors than I’d like to admit.”

Solomon hummed and leaned back in his chair, “I suppose I’d have some free time. Would you need me for your class too?”

“If you don’t mind being my full time model for the semester,” Asmo sang. Solomon usually ended up being his full time model for the semester. Solomon nodded and Asmo squealed in delight almost immediately. “Oh thank you Solomon!” he chirped, throwing himself over the table, somehow managing to not knock anything over, “You’re always the best model like ever!”

Solomon coughed.

“And the best friend ever. Of course my best friend would also be my absolute favorite model!”

Asmo would get to finish his project and spend more time with one of his favorite people in the entire world, of course having Solomon as his model was always a wonderful thing. Plus, he always looked really good in the clothes Asmo made. Like, really good. Sometimes he wondered if his subconscious purposefully made designs that would show off the countless number of tattoos that covered his body. Specifically the ones that would peak out from the collars of his shirts or from behind the cuffs of his sleeves. Solomon would make a really good model… Maybe one day Asmo could convince him to come along and work for him when he made it big one day.

******

Asmo sighed as he slumped onto his bed. He still had some time to himself before he had to meet his brothers for dinner. They usually wouldn’t start until Lucifer got home from work. It wasn’t that they had to wait, they just preferred to eat together when they could. It had been that way ever since they’d been kids and none of them saw a reason to break tradition (even if the brothers didn’t always get along). Folding his legs he went to grab his laptop to attempt to start on a few more assignments for the upcoming week and to update some of his profiles. He wanted to make it into the fashion industry, he needed to keep everything up to date and looking attractive.

No sooner had Asmo’s laptop left the bag did something else fall out. It was a pink envelope, with his name written in golden cursive on the front. The paper was glossy and sealed on the back with wax.

Asmo had never gotten a letter before. At least, not one that had been this fancy.

He carefully picked at the seal, not wanting to destroy something so pretty.

Unfolding the letter, he couldn’t help but notice a smoky aroma coming from the inside of the envelope.

How could any person ever glow so brightly?

Looking at you, I can’t deny that there must be some form of a higher power

For I refuse to believe that such perfection could be accidental.

Do you realize how truly wonderful you are?

Or that nothing in this life or any other could come close to comparing to your beauty?

I find myself being drawn to you

Like we’re connected by a string of fate.

I want to adore you.

I long to be closer to you.

Would you ever let yourself be mine?

Know that someone admires you in secret.

Think of Me,

Your Secret

#WBT #solodeus #soloasmo #asmosolo #asmodeus x solomon #obey me solomon #obey me asmodeus #obey me lucifer #obey me beel #obey me belphie #ruewrites #obey me #love letters #human!au #friends to lovers #slow burn

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saltfics · 3 years

Text

Villains AU: Hot Chocolate

For the RWRB Winterfest 2020. Day 2: Hot Chocolate.

Based on Playing His Game, a Hero/Villain AU.

Nothing quite says truce like sharing hot chocolate and trying to distract the crowd from the fact that one of the cups is floating.

(Full text below the cut)

AO3 link

He never realized how uncomfortable he is wearing his suit in public for no reason. Clearly, there’s a reason why he’s not the kind of over-glorified hero who participates in public appearances, aside from the fact that this city is not the kind to sanctify its heroes, or that Alex isn’t the most moral role model to begin with. Even with the mask on his face, he feels like they can all see through him, and even though this spandex-looking fabric is the socially acceptable hero costume, he still feels super dumb wearing it.

And yet, after the hundredth post he saw of people hoping they would get to see some of the superheroes in the Christmas Market like they were a couple of fucking Santa Claus’ elves, and the thirty additional times Portal told him she wanted to go, Alex had caved to the request. Kid, however, wasn’t coming. As it turns out he always goes back to England for Christmas, so at least Alex has that going for him.

He lost Portal in the crowd within an hour. She keeps blinking in and out of places to make the kids whoop and laugh, so Alex has spent the past forty-something minutes strolling around by himself, nursing a cup of hot chocolate that’s barely even warm at this point. The Christmas Market is perfectly charming, all little wooden houses decorated with fake snow and tinsel and an absurd amount of fairy lights. The air smells of melted sugar and wine, and it makes him want to overspend on sickly sweet things he’s going to regret later. But as beautiful as it is, he would much rather spend an afternoon here with June and Nora, instead of wandering alone, and he can’t do that while he’s in costume even if he knows they’re somewhere there in the crowd.

He has just downed the last of his chocolate when a voice comes up behind him.

“Hello there.”

Alex yelps, earning confused glances and more than a few chuckles from people passing by. He turns around to find nothing but air and snow and a grinning old vendor in his booth too far away from him to have been the one talking. Frowning, Alex carefully stretches his hand out in front of him until his fingers brush against fabric.

“Take me out to dinner first,” the voice whispers, tangled in a soft laugh.

“I know that’s your stomach, you ass,” Alex scoffs, his own words just as quiet, speaking from the corner of his mouth so people don’t realize he’s talking. He turns back around so he can pretend to watch the people walking around the market but he keeps their shoulders close together to make sure the other is still there. “What are you doing here? I doubt they invited you.”

“I can’t enjoy some holiday cheer?”

“I guess,” he shrugs. “You’re not going to steal the gifts, are you?”

“Is that how you think of me? As a Grinch?”

Alex sighs. “Not really. If anything you’d be the kind of person who’d rob a toy multi-corporate that like, secretly donates to fascist organizations, and then just dump the toys here.” Figures it would be Alex to have an arch-nemesis too nice to actually stop so they can both play hopscotch with line of right and wrong like schoolchildren. “Was that your plan?”

Mirage chuckles, the sound sending a chill down Alex’s spine. “Not this year.”

“That’s almost a threat. Please tell me I won’t need to fight you during the holidays, Invisiboy. Come on, give me a break.” He’s joking for the most part but it would also be really fucking nice if his secret job could leave him alone for the season so he can feel like a normal person for once. Plus hiding his extracurriculars from his family is always draining in all the worst ways. As much as June helps, she cannot take away the worry in his mom’s eyes since that has burrowed there from the day they almost lost him, or rather the one they got him back, or the way she acts when Alex is being weird like she wonders if somehow he returned wrong.

He’s thought of showing her more than once. But he thinks she already knows. She’s seen the news segments, the time-line matches and Ellen Claremont is no fool. So as long as Alex withholds that confirmation from her, she can sleep a bit better, not knowing for certain what her son is doing after dark. Alex loses enough sleep for the both of them.

Mirage shifts against him, breaking him out of his thoughts. Alex could swear he’s moving closer. “Are you…?” He snorts. “Are you snuggling closer to me?”

“You’re like a human radiator—are those your powers?”

“Might be. Never thought about it. Honestly, I just thought I was warm because of the chocolate.”

“Oh, that would do the trick.”

Alex must have spent too much time with him if he can grasp the slight longing in his tone.

“If you’re that cold why don’t you just get some for yourself instead of cuddling with the guy who might try to kill you?” he asks, raising his brows towards what he hopes is Mirage’s general direction.

“You wouldn’t,” Mirage says but he does move away from him, and okay, thanks, he feels like an ass now. “I think people just might notice if there’s a cup of hot chocolate floating around. And like you said, I wasn’t invited. Heroes only.”

Alex could argue about this both in his favor and against it but the last thing he needs is to tell Mirage he’s nice to his face, more than he already does by not dragging his invisible ass to jail every time they meet. Instead he decides to do something that will work for both of them. “Tell you what. You tell me what you’re planning for the holiday season, and I’ll help you drink your chocolate.”

“Truly?”

“Scout’s honor.”

Mirage is quiet for a moment. His shoulders brushes against Alex’s again. “All right. You weren’t far off. Just… not here. The children’s hospital.”

Alex’s heart clenches. “Where are you taking them from?”

“Spitfire, why don’t you go on vacation next week?”

He tries to look at him again, squinting his eyes at the emptiness where his voice is coming from like he could catch a glimpse, a shadow of his figure. He has to be wearing his costume to be invisible in it but is his face bare? Would he finally see a hint of his features if Mirage let him? There’s nothing but fairy lights next to him but if he focuses enough he can just pick up the barest puff of a warm breath in the cold air.

Alex smiles despite himself. “I think I might.”

Mirage bumps their shoulders together in response.

“Okay, time for my end of the deal I guess. Wait here.”

He buys another cup of hot chocolate, insisting that he pays for it after the vendor gave him the first one free of charge ‘for his service’. If he’s going to be feeding super-villains he should do that out of his own pocket.

The hole in his plan reveals itself when he returns and he… can’t see where Mirage is. Of course he can’t. Fuck. There’s a couple taking photos in the spot where they were and even if he had perfect eyesight he would not be able to spot a little cloud of a breath with all these people around.

“This is what I get for being nice to you,” he mutters under his breath, as he goes to take a sip from the chocolate he’s apparently going to drink himself. Oh, yay, more sugar.

He jumps when someone steps lightly on his foot but as he looks around, no one is close enough to have hurt him.

There’s an extra pair of footsteps on the snow in front of him.

Alex fights back a laugh. “Hey, is snow your mortal enemy? When it snows do you have a little white pile floating around on the top of your head?”

“Did it truly take you three seconds to give up on me and try to steal my chocolate?”

“You should be the last person to lecture me about stealing. And I paid for it!” Alex can’t stop the grin from spreading on his face as Mirage laughs nearby. “Okay, are you ready? Wait for my cue.”

“What are you—”

Ignoring him, he walks over to where most of the children have gathered. “Hey, kids! Do you want to see a magic trick?”

He thinks he hears Mirage groan somewhere behind him.

All the kids and a number of adults turn to him at his exclamation. He sees the recognition on their faces and he tries to focus only on those who seem happy to see him and not on the ones who would have him arrested if they could—he can see the distaste on their faces, so stark against the holiday cheer the surrounds this place. Once they realize he’s messing around, most of them turn back to their business but a couple of kids break off the mold and approach him, waiting with their big, curious eyes to see what he’ll do.

“Don’t get too excited now but I know one trick and I know it really well. You ready? I, Spitfire, hero extraordinaire, will make this cup”—he shows off the hot chocolate with the flair of a magician presenting his empty hat— “float in the air.”

Some children giggle in front of him. If Mirage bails on him now, Alex is going to kill him. “In three… two…” He feels Mirage’s fingers against his own around the cup. “… One!”

Alex lets it slip from his hands and though Mirage fumbles with it for a second, it looks like it’s floating. It stays in the air on its own then gets lifted towards what he can assume is Mirage’s mouth as Alex points at it with exaggerated movements.

He’s surprised Mirage doesn’t dump the whole thing on his head for the unnecessary drama.

With the kids still gathered, he decides to play some fire tricks as well, crudely-shaped birds born of flames like phoenixes flying around them, swirls and storms and whirlwinds in his hands, if only to redirect the attention from Mirage who must be trying to finish his drink in peace. Relative peace.

The combination of both ‘tricks’ leads to some confusion in the audience as the two spectacles neither match in powers nor are they at all coordinated. The headlines in the morning might be more accusatory than usual if somebody notices the second pair of footsteps next to his. But he can hear Mirage laughing and he can see the children staring with open mouths and wide eyes in front of him, and maybe it’s fine if the media questions him once more.

He’ll even let Mirage do his thing next week too, if he wants to. Alex can always kick his ass after the holidays. Even supervillains deserve a gift after all, if they’re as nice as he is.

@rwrb-fests

Want to support your local writer? Leave someting in the tip jar! Or just comment and reblog!

#saltfics #rwrb #rwrb fic #red white and royal blue #firstprince #rwrbwinterfest2020 #reblogs go a long way!#reblogs with tags are a writer's holiday gift!#yes i tied it to villains #because my multichaps deserve fluff scenes too!!#lmao i GUESS you could read it without it #but why would you #also for what sounds like a shitpost theres actually a surprising amount of characterization in here #wow #never let it be said that i can write something purely for soft #coz i cant

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mrsbhandari · 4 years

Text

Artsy As Fuck - Ballpoint Pen

Author’s note: HIIIII i decided to post pretty much all of my writing on here, just to make it more accessible!! I hope you like it!!

Word count: 1906

Warnings: language, sexual description but no actual sex

Summary: Colt takes reluctant Roze on a date.

Masterlist

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

Roze turned to him with wide eyes a look that silently asked “what the fuck are you doing?!” Colt ignored her in favor of staring down Ingrid, whose eyebrows were furrowed as her gaze switched between him and Roze.

“No you’re not,” she accused. “You and Roze? Hell no.” Colt squinted but this time, Roze beat him to the punch.

“Why do you say that?” The entire class was silent now, watching the argument with varying levels of amusement and worry. Roze had turned to Ingrid and was glaring daggers, daring her to say what she meant.

“Hm, you’re frumpy, annoying, kind of a bitch--”

“And mine,” Colt jumped in, feeling oddly protective of Roze despite agreeing with two-thirds of Ingrid’s statement.Their eyes met again and Colt silently begged Roze to go along with his rescue. She seemed to get the message and stayed quiet, letting him take over. “Now can we get back to the class?”

The professor jumped in at this point, settling the class down and putting them back on track. The rest of the class was silent for the remaining time to complete their artwork, and Colt continued to watch Roze as he posed. She didn’t look shaken or thrown off at all by Ingrid, and he hid an impressed look at how truly unbothered she was. Unfazed, she painted and completed her work before half of the class. She used the rest of the time to touch up her art. He was restless, aching to see how it turned out. After minutes that seemed like hours, she signed her art and packed her things, desperate to escape her hellhole of a class. Ingrid wasn’t feeling merciful as she grabbed Roze’s arm in the lobby of the building. Colt packed his own stuff up and raced to follow them, not wanting a fight to break out for fear of his job. He entered the lobby to see Ingrid with a death grip on her forearm, sure to leave bruises.

“What the fuck, Ingrid?!” Roze exclaimed, wrenching her arm out of the other’s grasp. She took a step back and collided with Colt, who put a protective arm around her shoulders and gave a glare to Ingrid, who scoffed at the sight of the couple.

“You can’t fool me, Roze. I bet you’re paying Colt to pretend so that you seem cool! You would do that, slut,” she scoffed, crossing her arms and rolling her eyes. His arm tensed with the effort to hold Roze back, as she seemed to lose her mind at the insult.

“I’m deescalating this. Roze, go wait by my bike,” Colt instructed, giving a pleading look to his new girlfriend when she sent a glare his way. She understood and walked out, checking Ingrid with her shoulder on her way.

“I’m not talking to you unless you’re offering to let me blow you,” Ingrid snarled.

“I’m most definitely not offering.”

“Hm. Your loss. See you.” With a flourish, she turned on her heel and left, going in the opposite direction of where his bike was parked. Walking back to the studio, he spotted the professor looking at the paintings of Colt.

“Sir, I’m so sorry about that, I really like this job and I want to continue it--”

“Colt! Deep breaths! Your little job here isn’t endangered because of a spat between students. Honestly, I should be the one apologizing to you.”

“Oh, there’s no need for that, sir.” Colt let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding and looked at the painting he was standing in front of, which just so happened to be Roze’s. She had successfully been able to finish his collarbone, and he almost choked on his spit the longer he looked at it. The hand wrapped around his throat was perfectly rendered, giving the entire work a sense of eroticism he hadn’t realized she would depict. His face was twisted into a small smirk at something off to the right and his hair was messy, but the lines were so perfect that Colt had a hard time believing that she had painted it despite sitting in front of her while she did it. Remembering he told her to wait outside, he yelled out a thank you to the professor before rushing to see if she waited for him.

A figure was leaning against his bike, creating a stark contrast with her dark jeans against the white body work. The light seemed to hit her just right, making her skin glow in the rays of the sun as she looked down at her phone.

“Hey, you waited,” Colt said, boots making for loud steps on the concrete as he walked towards her.

“What the fuck are you doing?” He stopped at his bike, grabbing the helmets off the handlebars and tossing one to her. She caught it with ease.

“Taking you on a date, girlfriend.”

After a five minute speech convincing her that he wasn’t going to kill her, she got on the bike. After a ten minute ride, they both arrived at his destination: a small local diner. Roze climbed off the bike first, prompting Colt to slightly miss her warmth behind him and around his waist. The thought disappeared as she stomped her way inside.

Whatever.

Sliding across from her in the booth she occupied, he ordered a black coffee and some waffles, raising his eyebrows when she scoffed at his order. “Something you wanna say?”

“No,” Roze snapped, oblivious to the nervous glances of the waitress between them. “I’ll have a burger and a Coke.” The waitress walked to the kitchen with their orders, leaving an angry Roze and an uncaring Colt at the table.

“Why’d you scoff?”

“Why’d you bring me here?”

“I asked you first.”

“Immature child.”

“Uptight shrew.”

“Asshole.”

“Vulgar.”

“You deserve it.”

“For saving your ass?”

“Waffles and a burger?” Their spat was interrupted by the anxious waitress setting the plates down in front of them, the steam from the food only adding to the heat between them. Colt gave her a smile and quickly dug into his meal, drowning the plate with syrup before shoveling it into his mouth. Roze was never one to deny a meal paid for by someone else, so a silence settled over the table as they both ate. Once he finished his meal, Colt was the first to speak.

“Ingrid’s annoying and I figured the best way to get her off both of our asses was to make me unavailable and prove to her that you can get a guy as hot as me,” Colt explained, rolling his eyes when she snorted and almost choked on a piece of lettuce. “Two birds with one stone.” She continued coughing, so he handed the water glass that came with his coffee to her. “Don’t die, or I’ll be a primary suspect.”

“You could’ve...poisoned...the water,” she said between gasps of breath.

“Too obvious and easily traceable.”

“Fine.” She drank the water, finally getting proper lung usage back. “Well it’s already been proven. Why not ‘break up’ so we don’t have to pretend?”

“Did you hear the thing about me being unavailable? As soon as there’s even a hint at me not having a partner, she’ll pounce. Plus she’ll probably make fun of you for not being able to keep such a hot boyfriend. Lose-lose situation.” Colt leaned back in the booth and watched Roze think about it. He was pleased to note that her tongue breached her lips no matter what she was thinking about, not just when she was drawing. After minutes of her cartoonish deliberation, she nodded.

“Fine, I’ll go along with it.” Colt gave a smug smile.

“Ha ha.”

“Fuck off. If this is going to work, we’ll need rules.”

“Ugh, lame!” Colt exclaimed, catching the attention of some other patrons in the diner. Roze took a bite of her burger, leaving Colt to wonder just how she could fit so much in her mouth. He internally raised his eyebrows.

Definitely don’t let that thought go too far.

“You can’t kiss me--”

“Vetoed,” Colt cut her off, ignoring the anger flashing in her glare. “It won’t be believable if I don’t kiss you.”

“We can say we’re private people!”

“Your class has seen me naked, Roze.”

At that, she stammered, face flushing and eyes widening. Thinking about that class did something to her, something that she wasn’t sure she liked since it was about a haughty, nosy, frustratingly attractive dick who acted like he could get away with murder. But hearing her name on his lips only added to it, making her choke yet again. Colt smiled but offered his glass of water again.

“Will you stop that?!” he commanded, brushing off the disapproving looks from the other customers again. Apparently, yelling at your girlfriend in public when she’s choking isn’t socially accepted. Duly noted. She glared as she composed herself, face finally returning to its natural tan color.

“Sorry, but you’re not kissing me.”

“Can I hug you at least?”

“For a limited time.”

“Your loss.” Roze rolled her eyes. “We should arrive together, though.”

“Why?”

“To save the planet, Kahlo.”

“Whatever. And don’t call me that. I could never be as good as her.”

Colt wanted to tell her that she was already truly incredible and that her art was most likely going to be studied in classrooms in a few years, but after looking at the insecured face of the troubled artist sitting across from him, he knew it wouldn’t be helpful. “How far away are you from the shop?”

“A two minute walk.”

“Great, when I model for another one of your classes, we can go on my bike.”

“Seriously?” Roze’s eyebrows raised as she tapped her nails on the table, drumming out a small beat. Colt found the sound both melodic and threatening. Her siren song continued through his response.

“It’ll only be on days where I model. You can deal with it.”

“What do you have against cars?”

“C’mon, you didn’t like the ride over here?”

Roze shifted in her seat, the leather squeaking quietly beneath her. She noticed how he deflected the question, but if she was being honest, she had loved the feeling of the wind whipping her hair as the streets blurred past her, the muscles of the driver flexing under her touch with a warmth pressed to her chest, his rich scent wafting over her as she hugged him tighter to keep from falling.

Was she going to admit it?

No.

She refused to give him the satisfaction.

He didn’t deserve it.

Instead, she reached into her purse and pulled out a gum wrapper and a ballpoint pen. He watched silently with his head cocked as she pressed the tip of the pen to her tongue, eyes trained on the string of saliva that formed between her lips and the utensil. This time, he refused to stop the flood of images coming to mind of just what she would look like with her lips wrapped around his dick, drool dripping onto his skin. He decided she would be more attractive that way because anything she said would be felt, not heard.

“Here’s my number. We can talk later since I have to go home. Take me back to the studio?” He was snapped from his explicit thoughts by her pressing the gum wrapper into his hand, complete with a quick self-portrait of Roze next to the sequence of numbers.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

#colt kaneko #colt x mc #colt choices #choices #choices rod #playchoices #fanfic #fanfiction #fic #fiction #artsy as fuck

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