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monstersandmaw · 2 years

Note

If you are doing the one-word prompt game, then, scarecrow for my prompt

Disclaimer which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

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Wow. This one really got away from me, but then again, I probably owe you a longer story after all these years anyway! Thank you for the prompt! (heavily inspired by this haunted village ambience video on YouTube that I listen to a lot while writing).

Contents: a rather lonely male scarecrow x artistic gn reader, haunted village, a cheeky magpie, a cute rabbit, lots of soft fluff, sfw Wordcount: 2987

(prompts closed)

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The last rays of sunlight glanced off mounded clumps of moss that choked the old, drystone wall on your left, and gave them all a little glint of gold. Part of you almost believed that if you were to risk a closer look into the cracks between the stones, you would find fairy coins and gems stashed there for safe keeping. Mud splashed up your boots from the rutted, potholed road which wound away down the hill, and off to your left, the looming beech wood whispered and rustled constantly, sending spiralling copper leaves out into the open fields to the right of the road.

Between the trees, twilight now began to pool and stretch, spreading like an ink stain over the carpet of fallen beech leaves and driving off the sun as night took its turn to watch over the woods and all the creatures who dwelt there.

A tawny owl took up a call from somewhere nearby. The broken half-refrain that sought a mate to complete the melody rang softly between the still trees, and you sighed, hoping he’d find a mate.

You’d heard about this place, the abandoned village in the valley, and had been travelling on foot for days to reach it with your sketch book in your bag and enough food to last you a week if you were careful. To your surprise, you glimpsed bright, fat, round pumpkins growing in the fields on your right, their coiling tendrils spreading merrily across the roughly tilled earth despite the place having lain barren and empty for generations. No one who lived within ten miles of this place ever dared come down this road, and yet there were fresh crops still growing in abandoned farmland.

“Full of ghosts and demons that place is,” the old baker’s wife had hissed at you that morning when you’d bought a loaf for the journey at the nearest town. “Don’t you go wandering around there…”

As you’d left that small, riverside town, with its creaking water mill and ringing blacksmith’s, a tall young man in a dark green cloak had come up to you and pressed a charm into your hands. He’d had a sharp, serious face and deep, black eyes, and people had whispered in the pub the night before that he was the witch’s son. You’d looked down at your hands and found a smooth disc made of antler with a familiar stave rune carved into it.

“To keep you safe,” he’d said, and turned away. You watched him walk a couple of paces before he stopped, sighed, and turned back to you. “I’ve been there,” he said. “To the village. Don’t take anything from there unless it’s given to you first.”

Unnerved by his odd advice, you’d just nodded, thanked him, and donned the protective amulet. It had warmed against your skin as it hung on its leather cord around your neck, and you ran your fingers over it a few times as you walked, thinking about this words again.

Now, as you peered over the planks of a rotting, dilapidated fence overlooking the village, you caught sight of a twisted old apple orchard swathed in evening mist in the wide, verdant valley off to your right, and what seemed to be a dark figure standing in the centre of it. Your heart fairly stopped beating until you realised that they weren’t moving at all, and it was only the faint breeze tugging at the corner of an old coat that was catching your eye. It was a scarecrow.

You camped that night in the only house that still seemed to have a solid, thatched roof, lighting a fire in the cold grate and sleeping in your bedroll on the flagstone floor rather than occupying the empty bed that had been left behind. It felt rude and presumptuous somehow.

After a spot of breakfast the next morning, you banked the fire and left your belongings neatly by the hearth, and looked around the small, single-roomed stone cottage before leaving. “Thank you for letting me sleep here,” you said aloud to no one in particular.

It seemed a bit silly, but it also important somehow, and you nearly jumped out of your skin when a magpie flapped its wings in the rafters above and laughed at you. “No harm in saying thank you,” you muttered to it, and stumbled out of the door, embarrassed.

Your morning was spent wandering the village, getting to know the layout of the old, tumbledown buildings, but your afternoon took you to the ancient apple orchard where you found the scarecrow again, standing sentry in the centre of the trees with his arms spread wide, almost in welcome.

You came to a halt in front of him and looked up into his weathered face, surprised at how friendly his features were. Sure, his face was made of sack cloth and bits of pale straw stuck out at the cuffs and hem of his linen shirt, but the roots that had been chosen for his hands all had four fingers and a gnarled thumb, and the branches that made up his legs beneath the brown broadcloth trousers stuffed with straw were in proportion with the rest of his body. He had big, leather boots on which, like the rest of his clothes and the wide-brimmed, leather hat he wore, were in far better condition than they had any right to be after he’d been presumably hanging on his post for a hundred years or more.

“I almost want to offer you an apple,” you chuckled nervously. “Don’t worry, I haven’t come to thieve from your orchard. I’ve just come to draw the trees. I hope that’s alright. You mind if I sit with you a while?”

Obviously, you got no answer from the silent scarecrow, and although his face was warped with age, it seemed to have a kindly, almost curious set to its vague features, and the stitched mouth seemed to smile a little at the corners.

You sat with your back resting against his post and lost yourself in the careful skate of charcoal and graphite over paper, drawing the speckled feathers of a thrush as it hopped about looking for snails, the curve of the old, white gate that hung off its hinges at a jaunty angle, the lines of the roofs of the village with their ribcage rafters showing, the twisting trunks of the trees like gnarled hands reaching up from the earth to share their fruits with the world. Your magpie joined you for a while and hopped about, chattering away to himself, and you laughed as he began to play with a fallen leaf for a while before flapping off and leaving a single feather behind. You drew that too, lying in the dewy grass, but left it where it lay. The warning of the witch’s son reminded you not to take what had not been offered.

It was only when a cool breeze caressed the back of your neck like a lover’s breath that you jolted and realised how long you’d been sitting there.

The had light faded unnoticed from the brilliant pinks and oranges of sunset to the calm, quiet lilacs and blues of dusk that you blinked, and you could barely see three feet in front of you now. It was only because your paper was white that you could see the marks after all. Fog rolled in from the edges of the low-walled orchard, but despite the way the white fingers crawled across the grass, it didn’t seem threatening in the least.

Groaning and rolling your neck to ease the built-up tension and stiffness, you set your sketchbook down and clambered to your feet, joints creaking after so long in one pose, and you stretched out your back as well. You looked up at the scarecrow and frowned. You could have sworn he had been looking towards the gate when you’d arrived, but his head was bowed down now and looking in your direction.

“You’ve been watching me sketch, have you?” you said, not sounding quite as confident as you’d hoped. Perhaps he’d just moved in a breath of wind earlier. “Well, don’t judge me too harshly, hm? It’s the having fun that counts, not the end result. I’m sorry I intruded on your peace for so long though.”

Again the softest, gentlest breeze wafted around your face and the pages of your sketchbook fluttered open until they stopped on one you’d done of the scarecrow himself.

You cocked an eyebrow. “You like it?” you asked, not really believing that you were actually communicating. “I’m not sure I captured your smile quite right. I can come back again tomorrow and try again though. You’ll tell me if I’m not welcome, right?”

In a flash of black and white wings that came down out of nowhere and made you yip in surprise, the magpie landed on the scarecrow’s shoulder and gave another harsh, laughing chatter at you. He almost seemed to be mocking your startled reaction. Then he fluttered down onto the grass, hopped around a bit, and stooped to pick something up. When he flapped back up to the scarecrow’s shoulder and hopped about, he had the iridescent feather in his beak. He cocked his head a few times and then stuck his neck forwards towards you.

“For me?” you asked, reaching slowly for the feather.

The bird nodded, and as you took it, he spoke. “For you.”

Your eyes went wide and you almost dropped the feather. The black and white bird danced around, apparently enjoying your surprise. Then he made another few cawing noises, flapped his wings, and then disappeared off through a gap in the apple trees. “Well, thank you,” you croaked into the silence he left behind. You knew that corvids could imitate human speech, but that had all been very… precise.

Patting the scarecrow’s chest near his shoulder in an informal farewell, you turned to pick up your sketchbook from the dewy grass and looked back one last time at him. “I’ll see you tomorrow then.”

When you stepped over the ruined gate to the orchard the next morning, you made deliberate note of where the scarecrow was looking, and it had definitely changed overnight. Now he was looking across at his right hand that was stretched out wide on the cruciform support from which he hung. In it, you saw a flash of white and a few flashes of colour, and frowned. He hadn’t been holding anything the previous day.

As you approached, you could see better what it was that he was holding, and you exhaled slowly. It was a beautiful bunch of silvery dried grasses, with bright dandelions, red poppies, and dusky blue harebells, all wrapped around with the fluffy heads of old man’s beard that loved to ramble freely over the hedgerows and walls.

“Is… Is that for me too?” you asked. “How did you get them?” An idea lodged itself in your mind and you couldn’t shake it. He was definitely able to look in different directions, so that must mean… “Can you move?”

Only the wind answered you for a long, stretching moment. Then, with the kind of aching slowness that made your heart stop, his head began to turn. Slowly, carefully, he nodded once.

You swallowed and took half a step back, heartbeat thudding. “Is it… Is it alright that I’m here?”

Again, to your immense relief, he nodded again. He moved like the rusty hinge of an old barn door.

“Can you speak?”

He paused, and for a second you thought perhaps he hadn’t understood, but then he nodded a third time.

You licked your lips nervously and looked at the flowers. “So… are they for me?”

Yet another nod was your only answer.

“Did you gather them yourself? I mean, can you… get down from there?” The idea of him roaming around the fields while you’d been fast asleep was partly terrifying and partly rather sweet, and it prompted another question before you’d even waited for the first to be answered. “Are we the only two people here?”

A warm, amused chuckle, like the crunching of autumn leaves, sounded from the scarecrow. He shook his head slightly.

“‘No’ we’re not alone or ‘no’ you can’t get down? Or ‘no’ you didn’t get them yourself?”

The gnarled fingers of his left hand twitched and then the rope that seemed to hold him lashed to the support loosened a fraction and he held up a finger in a gesture that asked you to wait, to slow down.

“I’m sorry,” you said, stepping back again. “I get a bit ahead of myself sometimes.”

Another friendly laugh sounded and you watched the stitched gash that formed his mouth stretch upwards at the corners. His hollow eye sockets lifted a little too and his whole face expressed a gentle mirth. “I can speak…” he said in a rasping, reedy voice. “Though I have had no one but that wretched magpie to talk to for years.”

He spoke fondly enough of the creature, despite his words, and you smiled.

“I can move and get down, though it takes… effort.”

“Oh. Do you mind if I stay and draw some more?”

“Not at all,” he said.

“You’re welcome to come down and join me. I could even draw you again… see if I can get your face right this time.”

He laughed, and the ropes uncoiled on their own, gently lowering him down to the grass. He was about your height, though he stood crookedly, leaning against the support behind him. He kept the brim of his hat tilted down as if to shield his face from you, and he shifted self-consciously as you looked at him. He held out the flowers and you watched the way his hands moved like living flesh, though they were undoubtedly made of the roots of a tree.

You took the flowers carefully from him and felt oddly choked. “I can’t remember the last time someone brought me flowers.”

“There’s not much out at this time of year, but…” he shrugged. “I found what I could. You were kind to sit and chat with me yesterday, even though you didn’t know I could hear you, and the magpie said you were polite in Old Rose’s cottage…”

“Thank you.”

Setting the flowers down beside your satchel, you drew out your sketchbook and sat cross-legged on the ground nearby. He sat as well, stretching his legs out in front of him and letting his hands lie softly in his lap. For a while he just watched you and then seemed to doze as the sun rose and lent a little weak warmth to the autumn day.

After a while, you began to ask him about the history of the village and why it had eventually been abandoned, and he talked in his rasping, faltering way for hours. A rabbit snuffled through the grass as the day wore on, and you froze, not wanting to startle it. It came right up to him, ears forward, nose twitching.

“Hello,” he murmured with a fond chuckle, and the creature leapt straight up into his lap. He cradled it and you carefully turned a new page in your sketchbook to try and capture it.

Luckily, the rabbit was in no hurry to leave, and he stroked his fingers through its fur long enough that you got three decent sketches out of it before it hopped off in search of the dewy dandelions growing between the trees. When he looked up at you and found you watching, he dipped his head again in a clearly bashful gesture.

“Want to see?” you said, waggling the sketchbook.

He nodded, and you went over to sit beside him. His finger shook as he trailed it carefully around the edge of the sketch, mindful not to smudge it, and then he looked up at you. This close, you could see the weave of the sack cloth that made up his face and the crinkles where the material pulled around his mouth and empty eye sockets. “You… I… Is this really how you see me?” he asked in a whisper barely louder than the breeze through the grasses.

With a frown, you turned your gaze back to the sketchbook to look at the drawings more critically. Was he offended? You thought you’d managed to capture the gentle way he’d cradled the rabbit’s soft body, the way his gnarl-knuckled hands had gracefully stroked its fur, the fond tilt of his head as he’d regarded the vulnerable creature in his care, but you’d also taken your time to match the way he listed slightly to one side, his broken-branch spine and crooked limbs not keeping him perfectly upright. It lent him a soft, shy quality, and you nodded. “I think you’re beautiful,” you said and then flushed hot with embarrassment.

He turned his head away and then looked back again, regarding you from the dark, shadowy hollows of his eyes. “No one has ever found me beautiful,” he said. “Not even the farmer who made me. I’m supposed to be frightening, you know? All the village children used to be afraid of me.”

“I’m sure you could be if you needed to be,” you said. “If I were here to steal apples, I mean. The rabbits aren’t a threat, and the magpie is only playful.”

“You could take anything you liked,” he breathed. “I wouldn’t stop you.”

“But could you if you wanted to?”

He paused. “Yes.”

You brought your hand to his cheek and found the sack cloth warm beneath your palm despite the autumn chill in the air. “Let me stay and sketch a while longer?”

“As long as you like,” he whispered back. “You’re welcome here as long as you like.”

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| Masterlist | Ko-fi (tip jar)

#scarecrow #male scarecrow #scarecrow monster #scarecrow x reader #(but not DC scarecrow!!)#just an ordinary old scarecrow lad #monster boyfriend #exophilia #one word prompts #gender neutral reader #gn reader #male monster #male monster x reader #male monster x gender neutral reader

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paleparearchive · 5 months

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Thoughts of Hometown

Mucha's initial 4★ story (1/3) ( 1 - 2 - 3 )

Location: library (morning) ; atelier 3 (morning) | Characters: Mucha, Van Gogh, Munch, El Greco, Aoi/MC

Aoi: (... Alright, here's the estimate of next month's operating expenses. Next, I need to confirm the details of the production request and… Ah, we also need to put together a promotional plan for the new exhibit room.)

(Whew... Looks like it's going to be another late day.)

Mucha: Miss deputy director. May I come in now, please?

Aoi: Yes, you can.

Mucha: Please excuse me. I am sorry to bother you. I did a rough sketch of the poster to go along with the new exhibit room.

I tried to create a layout that took into account the theme of the exhibited works, what do you think of it?

Aoi: Wow... That's beautiful! It conveys a rough yet glamorous atmosphere. This would be a great way to catch the eye of people in town. Please, let’s go with this idea.

Mucha: Thank you very much. Now, I will continue to work on the production.

Aoi: Alright, I'm looking forward to it.

(The direction of the promotion will also be a good one if it matches Mucha-san's poster.)

(I got an idea unexpectedly.)

By the way, your posters are really perfect, aren't they, Mucha-san?

Mucha: I am just used to drawing them. There was a time when this type of production was my main focus¹.

Aoi: Come to think of it, the stage, the champagne… You painted various posters.

Mucha: Yes. My path as an artist sort of opened up when I was commissioned to create a poster.

Aoi: I didn't know that!

Mucha: Fufu, it all started when I was working as a printer and happened to get a commission.

I am happy to be able to paint again in this way, as it is a job that I have a lot of feelings for.

Aoi: I'm glad to hear that. I’m very grateful to have you here. Not only have you given me advice on operations, but you’ve also introduced me to many production requests.

Mucha: No no. That is just my job. And I meet a lot of different people. I have acquaintances in shipbuilding and automobile manufacturing, so I'm asking them if I can make use of my art.

Aoi: A-Automobile manufacturing and shipbuilding…!

(Mucha-san, you're expanding your work into such areas...!)

(I've been working with him for quite a while now, and there's still so much I don't know about him. Or maybe I don't know all that much…)

Mucha: ... Speaking of which, how is the progress on the painting you previously commissioned from El Greco-san? The client is very much looking forward to it and I wish I could report on the progress along the way.

Aoi: About that painting, I think he's been making progress since he started working on it the other day. Shall we go take a look?

Mucha: Yes, sure.

—

Aoi: El Greco-kun, about that painting I asked you for the other day–

El Greco: …

Aoi: (He's standing in front of the canvas thinking about something…)

Van Gogh: Hmm…

Munch: Mumble mumble mumble…

Mucha: Oh my… There is a heavy atmosphere.

Aoi: What's going on, guys?

El Greco: The destination is in the dark.

Aoi: Uhm…

Munch: Niko-chan has no idea what the new painting will look like.

Van Gogh: We've been thinking about it together, but we can't seem to come up with anything.

Munch: Hey Niko-chan, I'm sure playing with my friends will bring up some great images, what do you think?

El Greco: No, the parent birds must not give up warming their eggs…

Munch: You don't feel like throwing your work away to play? You’re so serious, Niko-chan.

Mucha: Is the painting you are struggling with now from the client I referred to the other day?

El Greco: Exactly… It's still shrouded in a deep fog. I don't know when it will clear up either.

Mucha: I see…

Aoi: (Hmmm, there's still time before the delivery date, I hope he can come up with a good image…)

¹: what Mucha is saying is historically true. Mucha is mainly famous for his gorgeous posters that were used to promote theatres, products, shops, etc. An example:

#card tl #card translation #palepare #palepare tl #palette parade #palette parade tl #translation #mucha #alphonse mucha #4★

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tobesoalive · 3 years

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rises the moon (Josh Kiszka x Reader)

here’s a fluffy smut pice for y'all about the hottest man alive, Josh Kiszka! Let me know if you like it and want to see more of this stuff, I had a lot of fun writing it! Anyways....enjoy!

WARNINGS: smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, the usual

“C’mon babe! Let's celebrate a little!” you nagged your sweaty, grinning boyfriend. Josh Kiszka was the love of your life, and had been since you met three years ago. It was a warm August night and he had just gotten done performing his first show in months.

“I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to let loose a bit” he replied with a grin. “I’m kinda tired though so do you mind if it’s just the two of us?”

“I guess I could tolerate that” you tease.

After about another hour of hearing people congratulate the boys and helping pack up it was time to go. You were able to make it to the car without being swarmed by fans, but still stopping for a few photos. You offered to drive so that Josh could sleep for a little bit. Finally you pulled up to the little bungalow you and Josh had started living in a few months ago. It only made sense for the two of you to live together since you were practically inseparable.

Entering through the garage you kicked off your shoes as Josh questioned what you had in mind.

“Well I was thinking we could put on a record and maybe cook some food? Maybe even enjoy a glass of wine if you’re feeling wild”

“You know me baby, I’m always wild!” he responds, doing a weird voice that you rolled your eyes at, but deep down you loved it.

“I think the term feral suits you better” you quip, pulling him in for an embrace.

He rests his head on your shoulder, nuzzling his face into your neck, breathing deeply. You know how stressed and anxious he has been these past few weeks leading up to the show, and it made you so happy to see him finally relaxing. Silently your bodies part ways and he makes his way over to your extensive vinyl collection in the living room. He’s flipping through records when you run up to your bedroom and come back down the stairs, hands hiding behind your back.

“Hey Frodo, I have a little surprise for you”

“Oh boy what could it be, a sacred ring or some shit?” he says without looking up, putting a Fleet Foxes record on the turntable.

“Sorry for calling you a hobbit, I just wanted to make sure I got your attention.” you say as he finally makes his way over to you.

From behind your back you pull out a single joint and a lighter, one you had hand decorated with little stars and a moon. On it you had written in gold Sharpie “You are my sun”.

“Babe this is so amazing!” he says while taking the lighter in his hand and flipping it around. Josh was always keeping your sketches and random doodles that you thought nothing of, so you thought you’d put them on something he’d get use out of.

“I’m sorry I know it’s small, I just wanted to give you a little something to say congrats.”

“Are you kidding mama?! I love it, you didn’t have to do anything!” he assures you before pulling you in for a kiss.

“I will definitely be putting this to good use, but I think we should break it in now” he says before pulling you over to the couch and putting the joint between his lips.

He passes it to you and you inhale deeply, letting the sweet smoke fill your lungs. This was an activity you and Josh liked to partake in when you had a stressful day, or when you were going on an adventure, or anytime really. Not that either of you weren’t already very laid back and silly.

After a few minutes of the two of you passing the joint back and forth it was gone, and you ashed it out in the tray on the coffee table, setting the lighter to rest beside it.

“God that was a really great present actually, I just wish there was a way I could repay you” Josh says turning to face you.

“It’s a gift, you don’t need to repay me!” you tell him, starting to feel the effects of the weed.

“But you see I’m just a giving person, and what I’d like to give to you right now is a mind blowing orgasm” Josh says, and you can’t help but burst out laughing. You cover your face with your hands before facing him and saying “Kiszka you are such a dork, you’re lucky I find you so attractive!”

Both of you are grinning as your lips collide and after a minute of making out you pull back.

“After some deep consideration, I’ve come to the conclusion that that is an offer i just can’t refuse”

“Oh my love you are in for a treat!” he tells you before pulling you onto his lap.

Your hips start to move against his involuntarily, and you can feel him growing harder beneath his shorts. You tug at the hem of his white shirt and he lifts his arms up so you can pull it off him. Once again you break the kiss to move down on to your knees, ready to tease him with your mouth.

“Oh no princess, none of that tonight. All I really want to do is taste you so you better get your ass on this couch” he says with a small laugh.

You giggle as you get back on the sofa, barely able to contain your excitement. He unbuttons your pants and awkwardly yanks them off, causing you both to laugh. Quickly, his face becomes more serious as he concentrates on running his fingers up and down on the inside of your thighs, lightly ghosting around where you need him most.

“Joshua please” you whimper as you throw your head back, becoming more and more frustrated by his teasing.

“Sorry baby, I was just admiring how wet you already are. Was it from me?”

“Mhmm” you moan in response, tilting your head back down to make eye contact with him.

“Well I suppose I could treat you, since you’ve been such a good girl” he smirks before pulling your panties to the side, running his middle finger up and down your slit.

His teeth bite at his bottom lip as he darts his eyes from your wet center and back up to your eyes. You’re unable to take your eyes off of him, the sight of him alone is enough to make you come.

Slowly, he pushes his middle finger in, down to the last knuckle, letting it sit there a moment before he starts to pump it in and out of you at a lazy pace. Your walls contract around him as your eyes start to tear up, desperate for more.

“Josh more please” you plead with him. Instantly he attaches his lips to your clit, the motion all too familiar to him, the hairs above his lip and on his chin adding extra sensation. He swirls his tongue around the sensitive bud as his finger speeds up it’s pace. You can feel the heat start to pool in your stomach as he continues his actions. He adds a second finger, taking a moment to pull his mouth away and use his free hand to pull your panties to the side more. He dives back in, more concentrated than ever, fingers curling up to hit the delicate spot inside of you. You can see him rutting against the couch and it’s enough to make you throw your head back and let out a loud and rather pornographic moan.

“I think I’m gonna-” you start to say as the fire in your belly builds.

“It’s okay baby, you can do it, cum for me” he says, flashing his gorgeous smile quickly before returning his lips to your clit, moaning around it, sending delicious vibrations through your body. Your fingers lace through his curls as his fingers pump at an insane speed, sending you over the edge.

Your body shakes as stars form behind your closed eyelids, every part of you basked in complete euphoria, oblivious to everything around you. After a minute you open your eyes as you whimper at the feeling of Josh dragging his fingers out of you, but the feeling of his breath still hot against your clit.

You look down to see Josh with his eyes closed, partially hunched over as his hands rest on his knees, your juices gleaming on his tan skin.

“Wow, I owe you one, that was fucking amazing” you sigh.

“I’d love that, but I’m gonna have to take a rain check, seems my problem took care of itself” he says, cheeks turning red.

You look down to see a dark spot on his green shorts, realizing that he was experiencing just as much pleasure from pleasuring you.

“Joshua Michael Kiszka, that is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my entire life!” you say before pulling him into a kiss, the taste of you lingering on his lips. The thought of him getting off from eating you out alone drove you wild, he really fucking loves you.

“God I’ve never been more tired and content in my life” he says as his arms find their way around you, head burying into your neck.

“Well my prince, why don't you go upstairs and get in bed while I get you a glass of water and a snack”

“Oh my god, how did I get this lucky?” he says

“I ask myself the same thing everyday” you say before giving him one last kiss.

“You are my moon”

“And you my sun”

And you meant every bit of it.

#josh kiszka #josh kiszka imagine #josh kiszka smut #greta van fleet #greta van fleet fan fiction #greta van fleet imagine #josh kiszka fan fic #jake kiszka imagine #sam kiszka imagine #Danny Wagner imagine

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helloalycia · 3 years

Text

The Wrong Lifetime – Eight // Wanda Maximoff

chapter seven | story masterlist | main masterlist | wattpad | chapter nine

author’s note: Y/C/N = your cousin’s name, also this is later than I wanted today but i’ve been super busy so sorry for that! Also, I’ll be responding to comments from the last one as soon as I’m free. Enjoy 😊

"...okay, so now use the water to dilute the colour."

I did as Wanda said, dipping my brush in the glass of water and diluting the watercolour I was using, but I must have used too much because it made the paint run and then the paper started to get too damp to hold together.

Wanda facepalmed, sighing as I smiled sheepishly.

"My bad...?"

She glared playfully before ripping a page from her sketchbook. "Try again, milaya (darling). And use less water this time."

I squinted in the sun as I glanced at her. "Can't you just accept I'm not very good at painting? Or art in general?"

She shook her head, taking the torn page from my grasp and replacing it with a new one. "No way. You're not getting out of it that easily. It's not hard, I promise!"

I groaned lightheartedly. "You said that about drawing. And about using acrylics. And about using chalk."

"And I'm saying it about this, now c'mon, try again," she encouraged with an amused smile before returning to her own painting.

We were sat in my garden, hanging out and making the most of the lovely day we were having. The Spring breeze was getting warmer as we transitioned into Summer and it was a nice change of pace from the usual bad weather we had. So nice that Wanda wanted to do some painting and also teach me how to. But art was never my strong suit and I'm sure she knew that but still proceeded to try anyway.

Sketching out the tree before us for the third time today, I attempted to provide an outline that I could eventually fill in with green watercolours. Unlike Wanda though, it wasn't fun. My eyes veered over to her and I smiled to myself as I admired the look of concentration on her face – her 'art' look, I dubbed it. It was this very specific expression she got whenever she worked on a painting or drawing, and it always reminded me of that first time I saw it, after we met in the stationary store and when she took me back to her room. Absolutely wonderful.

"I don't hear a pencil moving," she said, not looking up but beginning to smile.

"That's because I'm looking for... what did you call it?" I racked my brain, thinking back to the day in the store when she talked about inspiration. "Vdokhoventi?"

A sharp exhale escaped her lips as she finally lifted her gaze to meet mine. Attempting not to laugh, she tilted her head adorably. "Vdokhnoveniye."

I quirked a brow. "Is that not what I said?"

She giggled, shaking her head. "Definitely not."

I grinned, shrugging. "Well, that's what I meant."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I'm not it, so eyes on your page."

"Oh, how dearly mistaken you are, love," I said quietly, leaning close and giving her a knowing smile.

She looked up, expression softening with a smile. Her eyes were heavenly, pupils dilated as she squinted in the sun, and they flickered to my lips before she settled on nudging me in the shoulder slightly. I snickered, leaning my head on her shoulder since everybody thought we were as close as best friends, so it wouldn't look suspicious. She sighed contently, letting me watch as she moved her paintbrush, painting a flower that was peeking through the grass we were sat on.

I could have stayed there forever, in that moment, sitting with Wanda and watching her paint under the sun. But of course, all good things come to an end when you don't want them to.

"Y/N, dear," I heard my father call, and when I looked up, I saw him approaching Wanda and I from the direction of our house.

Straightening up, I watched as he attempted to sit on the grass, but his legs were too long and he struggled to cross them. With a hearty chuckle, he stretched them out, slightly bent, and leaned on his hands.

"I'm getting too old for this, ladies," he said humorously, making Wanda and I smile.

"What d'you need, dad?" I asked, raising my brows.

"I just wanted to check in and see if you were ready for tonight," he said casually, making me furrow my brows. He seemed to notice my confusion, prompting, "Tonight? Your cousin's birthday party?"

"My cousin's what-now?"

He sighed, massaging the point between his brows. "Y/C/N? They organised this months ago. We're all expected to be there." His glanced to Wanda. "You, too, dear."

Wanda hummed, pulling her gaze from her painting and looking to my dad. "Yes, I'm aware. Got my dress ready and everything."

My eyes snapped to Wanda's with surprise. "You knew about this?!"

"You should be more like her," my dad muttered, as Wanda smiled with a hint of mischief in her eyes.

I looked back to my father. "I was planning on helping Y/B/N with his manuscript tonight."

My dad waved his hand. "I've already talked to him. He's agreed to work on it before the party starts so you're both on time."

I groaned, already tired at the sound of yet another party. Did it ever end?

"Don't be late," he ordered, though his voice was anything but stern. Cue another groan. He smiled before looking to Wanda's painting. "Wow, that's great, dear. Apparently you've got Y/N here attempting to do the same?"

Wanda chuckled as she handed him my several failed attempts. "Key word being 'attempting'."

He accepted the pages and stifled a smile of amusement. "Wow... maybe you should stick to writing, Y/N."

I ripped the pages from his grasp. "Cheers, dad, really."

He laughed before leaning forward and kissing my forehead. "It's all in good faith, dear. Now remember. Don't be late tonight, okay?"

I sighed, which he took as my response, before pushing himself off the grass with a grumble. Dusting his trousers, he nodded to Wanda and I before leaving us be.

"You could've told me I had yet another party to attend tonight," I told Wanda with narrowed eyes.

She shrugged, smiling helplessly. "I thought you knew."

I laid back on the grass with a dramatic sigh. "I just don't understand why our life revolves around extravagant parties, balls and dinners."

"That's just how it is, moya lyubov' (my love)," she said with a warm smile.

I looked up at the sky, raising my hand to shield the sun from my eyes, though my heart fluttered at one of the many nicknames she called me in Russian. "I'd rather live in the middle of nowhere. Where nobody expects anything of me and there's no stupid parties to attend."

She rested a hand on my leg before laying beside me, leaning her head on my shoulder. I relaxed my head on hers, appreciating how well we fit together.

"Same here," she agreed, making me gasp playfully.

"What? Don't you love the glitz and glamour?"

She laughed quietly. "I do, but I like the peace and quiet more."

I breathed out, fingertips brushing hers. "Maybe I can be a little late tonight... accidentally run over time so I don't have to stay as long."

Her fingers tugged on mine between us as a warning. "No. I'll be left alone and I'll be bored. And when I'm bored, I drink."

It was my turn to laugh. "You won't be alone, Wanda. You'll have Pietro."

She shifted so she was no longer leaning on my shoulder but instead tilting her head to look my way. "I want you."

I turned my head and gave her a small, promising smile. "I'll try to be on time."

She quirked a brow. "Try? You will."

My eyes flittered away, ready to argue otherwise, but she sat up and grabbed her paintbrush. I sat up, too, ready to tell her I would try, but I flinched when she flicked water towards me from the tip of it.

"Are you serious?" I asked, wiping the water from my eyelids with tongue-in-cheek.

She chuckled and I grabbed my paintbrush and did the same, watching her squirm when it flicked on her face.

Suppressed smile on her face, she wiped away the water and glared with dazzling eyes. "You shouldn't start what you can't finish, milaya (darling)."

Smiling from ear to ear, I quirked a brow devilishly. "Oh?"

"You're so lucky we're in front of people," she said lowly, leaning close enough to be platonic, but her hand slipped under my dress and creeped up my leg, making me involuntarily shiver. "Or you would be in serious trouble."

I stopped her hand from going any higher, the rings on her fingers cold enough for me to not melt under her touch. "I highly doubt that, love."

She held my gaze, intoxicating and mesmerising all at once. A sly smile tugged at her lips as she said, "Don't test me then. You heard your father. Don't be late."

I exhaled, licking my lips. "Fine. I won't be."

—

Later that afternoon, I found myself sat in my brother's study as the two of us worked on his latest manuscript together. It was a love story, his (my) specialty, and I was helping him to sort out his sentence structure when he decided to question me.

"Will you entertain me for a moment?" he asked randomly, making me look up from the pages.

"I'll probably regret it, but go on," I said jokingly, before looking back down and adding some notes to the paper.

His chair creaked as he leaned back, eyes watching me thoughtfully. "Are you in a secret relationship?"

I almost choked on my spit as he asked this, heart dropping to my stomach with panic. He couldn't know about Wanda, right? We'd been so careful.

Thankfully, I played it off well as I merely glanced his way before distracting myself with note-taking.

"Why would you think that, Y/B/N?" I asked like he was insane.

He shrugged in my peripheral. "I don't know... I've been wondering for a while. You've just loosened up so much more. And you're not as uptight as you usually are."

"Cheers," I said sarcastically.

He leaned forward, head resting in his palm. "This all happened right about the time I met Wanda..."

I swallowed hard, quirking a brow at him to play down my panic.

"I saw you with Pietro the other week," he continued, and I could finally breathe when I realised what he was insinuating. "I'm happy if you're happy, Y/N, but I'm not a fan of you sleeping with my publisher."

At that thought, I shuddered and proceeded to shove Y/B/N on the arm. "Don't say that. And I would never."

Just your fiancé, I thought guiltily.

"Good," he said with relief, straightening up. "Because you're not supposed to do that until you get married."

I rolled my eyes dismissively in response, but wondered if that still applied in a world where one was not allowed to marry the person they loved.

Y/B/N gave me a reassuring glance. "Look, I'm okay with it, I guess. But I'd appreciate the heads up so I can give him a stern talking to."

Realising there was a hint of mirth in his voice, I looked up and gave him a warning look. "Don't you dare."

He laughed, patting me on the back, to which I shrugged off with annoyance.

"It's the Maximoff charm," he commented knowingly. "The twins have that effect on people, don't they? Wanda sure has it on me."

A short silence fell after he said that and I chewed on my lip curiously, unable to stop myself from speaking until it was too late.

"Is her love reciprocated?"

He looked down to me from his daydream, no doubt of Wanda. "Pardon?"

Knowing there was no backing down from the conversation now, I avoided his eyes. "The engagement between you both was arranged... you're clearly in love with her, but is it returned?"

His lips twitched into a frown. "I'd hope so."

I hummed, diverting my attention away from him and to the pen in my hand.

"Why? Did she say something?" he asked, voice laden with worry.

"Of course not," I reassured him.

"But you'd tell me if she did?" he asked eagerly.

I looked his way and saw him peering down at me, hanging onto my response. I nodded lamely, which seemed to put him at ease as he sank into his chair with relief.

We spent the next few hours working on the manuscript without a hitch, but I noticed the time and realised the party was already in full swing. Wanda's words came to mind and I hoped she wouldn't be too annoyed at my lateness.

"We're wrapping it up now, don't worry," Y/B/N said, noticing me check the clock. "Thanks for the help. I'm gonna get this to my editor tomorrow. Your amendments should help make the process go a lot smoothly."

I hummed in response, feeling a heaviness settle on my shoulders as he mentioned his editor. It was always the same routine – I helped him with his manuscript, he got it edited, got his book published and got all the credit. And I was stuck in the same position, wishing I could do the same.

"What is it?" he asked with a sigh, sensing my mood.

Playing with the corner of the manuscript, I met his gaze. "I help you with your writing, but I never get anything from it."

"You get to help me," he pointed out, not seeing the issue. "Isn't that enough?"

Pietro's offer came to mind as I said, "What if I wrote my own book? And got published with my name on the cover?"

He squinted as he studied me, trying to find the humour in my words. Letting out a laugh, he shook his head.

"Y/N, that's absurd."

I raised my eyebrows hopefully. "I mean, is it? Would that be so bad?"

He pressed his lips together and breathed out through his nose. Resting a hand on my shoulder, he gave me a condescending look.

"I'm saying this because I care," he said, making me feel like crap. "But yes."

As if I didn't already know the answer, I asked, "Why?"

He motioned with his hand like it was obvious. "Because. People would look at you differently. You'd be undesirable. You know men don't like smart women. I'm just looking out for you as your brother."

I looked away, the bitterness at his words stinging more than usual. "Well, I like smart women."

Thinking I was joking, he chuckled. "Don't go saying things like that. One might misinterpret."

My teeth pressed into my lower lip hard, trying to contain my frustration.

"You can do this every now and then," he said, referring to the manuscript, "but any more isn't possible. Besides, two authors in one family? That's insane."

I forced a smile, but I wondered if his last comment was the real reason he wouldn't let me at least try to get published.

"Anyway, never mind that," he said indifferently. "We should probably head out. Dad is not going to be pleased. Especially since I promised we wouldn't be late."

I nodded, sliding my chair out and wanting to be anywhere but here right now. "Yeah, come on."

He gave me a sneaky smile. "Can't wait to see Pietro?"

I slapped him on the arm before standing up, ignoring his laughter. Nothing to make an already-depressing night worse than going to a party you didn't care for.

—

Wanda Maximoff was a very difficult drunk to be around, I'd learnt that the hard way.

As soon as Y/B/N and I rolled up to my cousin's house, a third of the guests were drunk and the rest were tipsy. A typical Y/L/N get-together. Y/B/N was instantly dragged away by some family whilst I was quick to make myself scarce, attempting to find Wanda. But the place was bustling with people and there were way too many rooms to check.

I found Pietro before I found his twin, as he was poking around party favours on a table in the corner, attempting to make out what were in the bags.

"If you're expecting a brand new fountain pen, you won't find it in there," I teased, making him jump.

He sighed when he looked my way, realising it was me. "I know that. But there's nothing better here to do, so I may as well know what freebies we'll be getting by the end of it."

I smirked. "Anything good?"

He shrugged, seeming disappointed. "Just some chocolate and perfume samples."

Holding back a smile, I said, "How tragic."

"If you're looking for my sister, she's over there," he said, nodding behind me. "You'll love this one."

"What do you mean?" I asked, brows knitted with confusion, before turning around and following his gaze.

Wanda was indeed stood on the other side of the dining room and I could just about make her out between idle guests. She was chatting to some woman, hands moving erratically and with expression, a grin on her lips.

"What is she doing?" I asked unsurely, tearing my eyes from her and looking to Pietro.

He was withholding laughter as he answered, "Sometimes, dear Y/N, my beloved twin sister gets drunk when she's–"

"Bored," I finished, remembering what she told me this morning. My face dropped as I mumbled, "Uh-oh."

"Uh-oh indeed," Pietro said, grinning at his sister's dismay. "Drunk Wanda is a very truthful Wanda. So, any secrets of hers will most definitely be revealed tonight."

Pietro was too caught up in his own amusement to notice my eyes widening.

"One of our servants made me a platter a few years ago," Pietro explained, oblivious to my panic. "It was a delicious cheese platter, the cheese having been imported from France. Then, Wanda proceeded to eat it without telling me. When I asked if she did, she lied. And I only discovered she lied because she got drunk a few weeks later and bragged about how good the cheese was."

Continuing to ramble, though this time in Russian, Pietro complained about said incident, though I wasn't listening as I watched Wanda talk to the woman enthusiastically. I could only imagine what secrets she was sharing.

"Pietro!" I cut him off, earning his attention. "Shouldn't you do something? To stop Wanda?"

The cheese platter story long forgotten, his grin reappeared on his lips. "Nah, it's funny watching her make a fool of herself."

I gave him a look of disbelief before looking back to Wanda, who was laughing at something by herself. The woman she was speaking to seemed partially confused, but smiled to be polite. I gulped, before shaking my head.

"I'm not that mean," I said to Pietro before making a move to stop her.

Pietro booed me playfully, but I ignored him and approached the drunk brunette, managing to catch her conversation.

"–and they're usually such catty bitch–"

"Wanda!" I immediately cut her off, bumping into her side slightly to get her attention. "There you are!"

Green eyes widened with excitement as they met mine. "Y/N! You're here!"

Ignoring her, I wrapped an arm around her shoulder and tugged her close before looking to the guest she was talking with.

"My apologies for her behaviour," I said with an awkward smile, hoping Wanda hadn't revealed anything suspicious.

"No need to apologise, dear," the woman said with an amused smile. "Wanda here was telling me all about how lovely of a sister-in-law you are. Or will be."

Wanda grinned, looking to me and leaning in so close that her nose brushed my cheek. "Yeah, she is," she continued to the woman, though her eyes were on mine. "She's sweet, not like other people make out their sister-in-laws to be."

My face was warm as I cleared my throat and smiled once more to the woman. "If you'll excuse Wanda and I."

The woman barely got out a nod before I dragged Wanda away, trying to keep her lips away from my neck (she was also an extremely clingy drunk). Tugging her into the bathroom down the hall, I closed the door behind us and released a breath of relief, grateful for the escape from guests.

"You look very sexy when you're worried," Wanda complimented, stepping forward and smiling dazedly.

"Wanda–"

She placed her hand on my jaw, moving closer so that her lips were grazing mine as she mumbled, "You came late, milaya (darling). But I still love you."

I'd like to say that I had the willpower to push her away and scold her for acting so obvious about us before, but my lips went numb as she captured them between hers. I could taste the alcohol on her lips as she moved them against mine, making me dizzy and forgetting what I was going to say. Her thumb caressed my jaw and I relaxed under her touch, hands resting on her chest. When she tried to part my lips with her tongue, I seemed to come to my senses.

"Wanda, you're drunk," I muttered, pushing her back gently.

She chased down my mouth again, sucking on my lip and tilting my head back so she could have better access. I tried not to let her win as I kissed her briefly before pulling away. Clouded hazel eyes met mine with a matching smirk.

"You're such a tease," she whispered, her accent thicker than usual and making my stomach flip uncontrollably. Her thumb traced my lips as she continued, "You shouldn't do that when I already know how you taste, moya lyubov' (my love)."

The way she was staring at me made me flustered in place, and she seemed to notice her effect on me as she winked my way.

Shaking my head and trying not to let her win, I said, "Look, Wanda. I'm sorry for being late. But did you really have to get drunk?"

She shrugged, leaning her weight on my shoulder with her hand. "If you hadn't kept me waiting, then I wouldn't have."

I sighed, looking to her apologetically. "I didn't realise the time."

A permanent troublesome smile was fixed on her lips as she watched me.

"Your brother told me how you can be when you get drunk," I said with mild concern, hoping she'd register my seriousness. "You need to be careful, Wanda. We can't have people finding out about us."

"It seems to me," she began agonisingly slowly, lacing her arms around my shoulders, "that you'll have to watch me all night to make sure I don't do anything out of line."

Determined not to play into her teasing, I maintained her gaze with a stern stare. "It seems I'll have to."

She bit her lip, eyes flickering between mine, before leaning further into my ear. In a whispered voice, she said, "That means you can't leave my side, printsessa (princess)."

I clenched my jaw, ready to agree, but a gasp escaped my lips as hers sucked on my earlobe, teeth nibbling on the sensitive skin. Stupid Wanda and her stupid flirting and stupid attractiveness.

"Wanda!" I scolded, though my cheeks were flushed as I pushed her away gently.

She laughed adorably, the sound making my heart skip a beat. "What?"

"You have to behave," I told her, swallowing hard and trying not to let her teasing smile get to me. "You can't do this out there. Okay?"

"Okay," she agreed in a way that wasn't reassuring in the slightest.

I rolled my eyes before grabbing her hand and leading her back outside the bathroom, returning to the party. I wasn't planning on leaving her side for the rest of the evening, even if Y/B/N wanted to be with her. The last thing I wanted was for her cute drunken self to reveal something she couldn't take back.

To my relief, she kind of behaved after that. There were times when she would get a little too touchy to be platonic, but a quick stare set her straight. Y/B/N wasn't around much, as when he did join us, he was immediately pulled away by some family friends who wanted to discuss his books. For once, I was glad he was an author, afraid of what would happen if Wanda got too comfortable in his presence.

At one point though, he was able to join Wanda, Pietro and I at a standing table, relief flooding his expression when nobody called after him. His arm wrapped around Wanda's waist and he kissed the top of her head, making me look the other way with distaste. She scrunched her nose up at the action before distracting herself with a drink. I gave her a knowing look, having told her earlier to stop with the alcohol. She pretended not to see me.

"Sorry I've not been able to spend time with you tonight," he said to Wanda, oblivious to her tipsy state.

"It's almost like it's your birthday and not your cousin's," Pietro joked, smiling at him.

My brother chuckled. "I guess. They just all wanna talk about my manuscript."

"Ah, yes, the reason you were late, right?" Wanda asked, eyes falling to mine.

"I'm sorry," my brother apologised, assuming it was him she was speaking to.

"You were helping him, too, right?" Pietro asked, looking to me curiously. "Maybe I'll finally get a glance at your work."

I narrowed my eyes at him, having figured he'd put the subject to rest after last time. He merely grinned in response, finding joy in messing with me, just like his sister. Before I could say anything, my brother beat me to it.

"Don't be getting any ideas. It's just a hobby." He smiled forcefully, before glancing at me. "Isn't it, Y/N?"

So he was jealous. Wow.

"You don't need to hide your relationship, y'know," he continued when I didn't respond, looking to Pietro.

The silver-haired publisher choked on his drink as he looked to my brother, clearly very amused.

"I know you're together," Y/B/N said with agitation. "Everybody does. And don't get me wrong, Pietro, I respect you as a publisher."

I groaned quietly, closing my eyes with embarrassment. When I opened them, Pietro was watching my brother with an entertained smile, meanwhile, Wanda was looking between them with a twitching frown.

"But if you're going to date my sister, you should do it the right way," my brother continued stupidly. "It's not appropriate to have whatever this is." He motioned between us with his hands. "It's wrong."

I jumped when Wanda's hand slipped to my arse, squeezing it gently. Thankfully, our backs were to a wall so nobody would have noticed behind us, but I instantly glared at her and removed her hand. She gave me a cunning smile, not bothered by the consequences.

"...and if you're sleeping together like I suspect," Y/B/N was saying, making me flush with humiliation, "know that our friendship is at breaking point. I can't have that blatant disrespect in my life."

Wanda continued to attempt to grab my arse, making me slap her hand away several times, all whilst trying to manage whatever conversation was happening right now.

"I can't believe you just said that," I finally spoke up, managing to keep Wanda at bay long enough. "You're such an idiot, Y/B/N! I told you I wasn't with Pietro!"

Pietro tried not to laugh as he met my brother's intimidating stare. "I value our friendship, too, Y/B/N. Which is why I can promise you I have no... relations... with your sister. I don't like her like that, I can assure you."

Wanda snorted with amusement, before hiding behind a glass of wine when everyone looked her way.

Y/B/N seemed embarrassed as he cleared his throat. "Oh."

I rolled my eyes. "Yes, oh!"

"I guess I should apologise," he said awkwardly, looking to Pietro. "I–"

"No apology necessary," Pietro cut him off, raising a hand. "I am thankful for the entertainment however."

"I'm gonna go literally anywhere else," I dismissed myself, unable to take the uncomfortable situation any longer.

Without waiting for a response, I turned on my heel and walked away. To my surprise, Wanda trailed after, falling into step with me.

I glanced at her unhappily, quirking a brow. "Can I help you?"

"Oh, don't be mad at me because your brother's an idiot," she said with a wag of her hand.

I gave her a suggestive look. "I told you to behave."

She pressed her lips together in a sheepish smile. "I'm sorry... Y/B/N was talking about you and Pietro and I– well, I don't like sharing, remember?"

The improper glint in her eye as she stopped before me, watching with amusement, made me feel warm all of a sudden. That day when she first told me that and we proceeded to make love flashed to mind, and she seemed to know as she had a mischievous look on her face.

Clearing my throat, I pointed a finger her way. "Behave."

I should have known by the devilish look in her eyes that she wouldn't.

#wanda maximoff au #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen x you #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #elizabeth olsen imagine #marvel #mcu #scarlet witch #scarlet witch imagine

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junosartsthetic · 3 years

Note

Hello :) For the yandere writing prompts: Might I get Roses with Shigaraki? Please and thank you <3

"Roses. They once brought great comfort. They still bring me roses but the light in their eyes is gone."

I always get carried away writing these, oops. Anyway here you go! Also this is a tattoo parlor/flower shop AU because of course it is.

Your new shop had only been open a day when you first noticed him. You were tending to your freshly cut roses, clipping the thorns carefully, when you heard the bell on the door jingle. You turned, looking to see who had entered. “Hello, welcome to Roses and Company!” you greeted, looking the newcomer over.

He donned a black hoodie, hood over his head and hands tucked into the pockets. You noted grey-blue hair poking out from the hood. His lips were rather chapped. He didn’t reply to your greeting.

You finished tending to the roses, placing them in a vase on a shelf before walking over to the stranger. “Can I help you find anything?”

He glanced over at you. You gave him a smile. He shrugged. “I work next door. I had nothing better to do so I wanted to check this place out.” You noted his gravelly voice. He sounded irritated. Maybe that was just his tone of speaking, you thought.

You remembered the tattoo parlor next door. “You’re a tattoo artist?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

He rolled up his hoodie sleeve, showcasing a large collection of tattoos. They ranged from morbid depictions of skulls to scrawlings of words. You thought they were pretty.

“Oh, sweet. I’ve never had a tattoo but I might have to get one now that you’re right next door!”

He gestured to the bouquet of roses you’d just shelved. “How much for those?”

You were only just now realizing you’d never put price tags on anything, assuming you’d have time later today. “Oh, umm…”

He suddenly spoke up. “A tattoo for the bouquet?”

You raised a brow. “Really?”

This day was turning interesting.

He nodded.

Why the hell not, you thought, trotting over to grab the vase before handing it over. “Alright. Deal.”

Next thing you knew you were sitting in a chair, the stranger sitting beside you as he sketched out a few ideas. They were all types of flowers. He was a very good artist, you noted.

“Hey,” you spoke up, causing him to hum. “I never got your name.”

“Tomura,” he mumbled, focusing on his sketches.

You smiled. “I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you.”

You pointed at a sketch of a rose he had, noting it resembled the roses in the vase sitting in front of the paper. “You’re really amazing at art, Tomura. That looks incredible.”

His cheeks grew warm. “I’ve been doing this for a while. Anyway, is that the one you want?”

“It looks expensive, are you sure you want just that bouquet?”

He nodded. “It’s fine. I don’t care about money. I just enjoy the art.”

Within a few minutes, he had laid down the stencil for the tattoo, and you braced yourself for the inking needle.

“Relax,” he said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

The sensation of the needle hitting your arm made you jump, but it wasn’t as bad as you imagined. Your eyes watered slightly as he continued his work.

It only took about an hour to complete, and you talked to him during this time, Tomura occasionally responding but mostly just listening.

He realized he really liked your voice. And your calm demeanor. He didn’t know why he suddenly made a deal with you, or why he insisted on giving you a free tattoo. He’d never done anything like this for anyone else. What made you special? He didn’t even really know you. It was odd. He’d have to discuss it with Kurogiri later.

“It’s done,” he spoke after some time, putting the ink needle down and cracking his wrists. He’d usually take a break during tattooing, but he decided to push onward for yours, strangely.

“It looks amazing,” you commented, gazing at your freshly inked arm. “Thank you, Tomura. And you were right, it didn’t really hurt.”

“You should probably get back to your store,” he noted. “Let me wrap it up and I’ll check on it tomorrow.”

You gave him a soft smile. “Sounds good!”

The next day, he showed up at your shop as promised, and you waved him over. “Hey, Tomura. Nice to see you again.”

You gestured to your new tattoo. “It seems to be doing good. I’ve been doing everything you’ve said to take care of it.”

He looked it over before his eyes roamed to your face. You were very pretty, he noticed. He liked the way you smiled at him. Nobody had smiled at him like that before. It made him feel nice.

“Oh, here,” you said, handing him a vase full of roses. “I decided that just one wasn’t enough in exchange for this tattoo, so I wanted to give you another bouquet.”

He stared at the red flowers, freshly plucked and trimmed. They looked perfect.

He took them wordlessly. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he mumbled.

You waved him goodbye. “Alright!”

Day after day, he showed up, and day after day you gave him a bouquet of roses. He always accepted them, and you always looked forward to his visits.

Until one day, it all changed.

It had been a month since you’d opened up shop, and your tattoo had healed up nicely.

You were rather busy today, so when you didn’t see Tomura at all you brushed it off as just missing him when he walked in.

When 10 pm rolled around, you began to close up shop.

You were prepared to walk out, purse in hand, when you saw a figure outside. You quickly recognized him as Tomura.

“Oh, hey! I thought you had already stopped by and I just hadn’t noticed you! I’ve already stored all of the roses away for today but I’ll give you two bouquets tomorrow! Promise!”

Tomura waved it off. “No, I’m not here for that. I wanted to repay you for all of your kindness.”

You cocked your head. “Oh, I don’t need any payment or anything. You’ve been a dear to me!”

He held his hand out, grasping yours. “You don’t have to keep up your ruse. I’m not a likeable person. I know that. But still, you look at me with such kindness. And I can’t get you out of my head.”

You stared blankly. “What do you mean, Tomura? Are you confessing to me or something?” You laughed, meaning it as a joke, but the way his hand squeezed yours, you realized he was completely serious.

“Every waking moment I think of you. I still have all of your bouquets you know, I’ve taken such good care of them. They’re all alive and well. Let me take you to them. They’re just inside my shop.”

You gripped your purse nervously. What had gotten into him?

“Oh, I’m glad you like them. Flowers can be tricky to take care of. Especially roses. People don’t like their thorns.”

He began to tug on your hand, guiding you next door. “C’mon. I’ll show you.”

Despite the lurking feeling of dread, you followed him without question. You knew Tomura. He wouldn’t do anything weird to you. He was a friend.

He led you inside, walking towards a door in the back of the tattoo parlor. You noticed a large chain and a lock on the door. He used his free hand to unlock it, the key dangling on a necklace tucked into his hoodie.

He led you inside.

There, on the walls of the small closet, vases of roses lined the shelves. You noticed they were all pristine, as healthy as the day you handed them to Tomura.

“Wow,” you said, letting go of his hand to caress a rose. “They’re so vibrant. You’d make a good florist, Tomura. You’ve taken great care of these. It’s amazing. They all look really healthy.”

You heard shuffling behind you. You moved to turn around, but a cloth pressed against your face stopped you. An arm wrapped around your waist, locking you against a chest as a chemical entered your airways. You attempted to scream, but no luck. Petrified, you could only wiggle in his grasp as your body began to weaken.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N), but it’s for the best.”

When you awoke, you noticed you were still in the closet, though resting on a loveseat tucked into the corner. There was nobody with you. “Tomura!” you called, struggling to stand. You felt dizzy, and your legs wouldn’t move. “Hello!” you cried. You tried to wiggle your toes, but you couldn’t. What the hell was going on.

“Someone help me!”

The door unlocked, and in stepped Tomura. His hood was off. He’d never taken his hood off before. You looked into his eyes and saw blazing madness. He scratched his neck violently, smiling widely. “Oh good, you’re awake! I thought I’d knocked you out for good! That would have been awful!”

You recoiled in the chair, uselessly attempting to move your legs and escape.

“Sorry, little rose, but I had to. I couldn’t have you leaving me!”

Your eyes widened, terrified. What had he done to your legs; why couldn’t you feel them.

“Tomura, stop it. You’re acting crazy,” you cried, tears pricking your eyes. “Let me go!”

He shook his head. “I can’t. You don’t understand. I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can’t! I can never let you leave me!”

You began to shake, sobbing.

He stepped towards you. “Don’t cry. I’ll take good care of you. You’re the most important of my flowers, don’t you see? You were giving me all of these roses, when you were the only rose I needed!

You cast your gaze to your tattoo as a new wave of tears struck you.

He said nothing else, only turning on his heels and walking out of the closet. The door closed, and you heard the chain clanking as the lock clicked.

You were trapped here. With no ability to walk. And no way out.

As Tomura locked you in the small room, his mind was racing. He’d done it. He’d finally gotten you all to himself. His heart beat rapidly, and he clenched his hands tightly. He was euphoric. And yet, that look in your eyes hit a soft spot in him. Was this the right thing to do? He shook this feeling aside. Of course it was. There was no other way. He had to have you. He had to protect you. He had to keep you healthy, just like the other roses...

Some time had passed, weeks maybe, you’d lost track, and you grew quiet and lethargic. You wouldn’t speak. You wouldn’t look at him. You wouldn’t even acknowledge his presence.

Still, he’d give you food and water. He helped you clean, giving you baths in the tub above the parlor. He even carried you up the stairs, being that your legs were now permanently paralyzed.

Every few days, after the parlor had closed, he’d carry you to a seat, giving you a new tattoo. It was always a rose.

Roses. They once brought great comfort to you. You used to love them. You would love giving Tomura a bouquet each day he visited. Technically, you were still bringing him roses, only he inked them onto your skin. You became his bouquet.

“You still bring me roses,” Tomura muttered quietly, buzzing the flower into your reddened skin, “but the light in your eyes is gone.”

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multiplefandomsblog · 3 years

Text

“Offer”

request; Can I get an imagine with Kokichi with an artist S/O who wants to paint him but he keeps flustering them with suggestions of a nude painting of him?

warnings; kind of suggestive, mention of nudity, cussing, mutual pining i think, i made it kinda crack fic, reader has an ultimate talent(artist), not edited too well, ended it weird like always, kissing, lowkey making out tho-

note; wow i wrote way too much- but hey, i still hope you enjoy this!

word count; 1.9k+

You walked around the school, looking for Kokichi to ask him to be your model.

Although you have sketched Kokichi several times before, you felt you needed to ask him face-to-face so he could just stay still in his goddamn chair instead of changing positions every 5 seconds and ruining your half-done sketch. And so, you went off to go find the boy, finding it surprisingly hard to catch him.

“There you are! I was looking for you-” You puffed out a sigh of relief, clutching your art supplies close to you as you saw your purple-haired classmate. Not a second after he caught sight of your figure jogging towards him, he had started taunting you.

“Oooooh, hey S/o, you seem mighty happy to see me, hm? I wonder why that is…” He took a funny-looking step towards you, voice laced with an interrogating tone.

He had that strange smirk on his face, and not the one you liked. N-not that you liked his smile! In consequence of staring at him and sketching him constantly without his knowledge—or so you thought—, you have become almost a master of reading his mood and expressions.

“Don’t get any wrong ideas, I just wanted to ask you if I could paint you.” For a small moment you swore you could see his expression twist into one of shock, before quickly melting back into his shit-eating grin. “Well of course you would! I’m the ultimate supreme leader, after all.” He acted as if he wasn’t just gob-smacked a second ago.

You beamed up at him, you had been in a small art block for a while and the moment you saw Kokichi, you knew he would be the cure to it. And so, you were ecstatic when he said what he said, “So you’ll do it?” You jumped a little too high, and spoke a little too eagerly.

“Mhm! —but with a catch, of course.” Your face dropped, you should’ve known the little fucker would try and get something out of you. “Nishishi!”

Unsure if you even wanted to know, you asked carefully, “W-what’s the catch..?” Your voice laced with caution, brain suddenly being reminded of all the pranks and blackmail he had fucked everyone else over with in the past. Knowing him, it could vary from, ‘Eat a bug.’ to, ‘Survive a knife game against me!’

But what he said was definitely worse than the former, and the latter.

“You have to paint me fully-nude.”

… It was suddenly very quiet, the echo of his insane remark, bouncing off the walls. The silence mostly coming from your side—then again, what did you expect? Painting Kokichi would mean the end of your art block and a painting of Kokichi, like, c’mon, but painting Kokichi nude would mean- Well, you weren’t sure what it meant; hence, the silence.

Impatient and somewhat annoyed by the silence, he poked at your shoulder, “So? Are you gonna paint me naked or not?” You stared at your shoes, too afraid to make eye contact with the boy you were now thinking of... naked.

“... C-can’t I just paint you normally?” He pouted, a comedically high whine erupting from his throat as he replied, “But that’s no fuuuuuun!”

“Don’t you want to see your ultimate supreme leader, whipping out his wang?-” You shoved his face away from your warm one, “Y… I mean n-no, no!” Your tone weak before getting loud and defensive as you caught yourself before all hell broke loose.

You felt your stomach drop as you thought about the possibility of Kokichi knowing you wanted to see him, and I quote, ‘Whipping out his wang’, Kokichi would never let that one go.

“Aw man, well I guess you don’t wanna paint me theeeen.” He slowly stepped away, a pout on his face as his back faced towards you. He hummed circus music as he teetered on his feet, balancing on one foot at once as he ‘walked’ away from you agonizingly slow, obviously waiting for you to tell him to come back.

“Koki-” In a flash, Kokichi had been by your side, dragging your hand to god knows where. “You have me convinced! I’ll let you paint me because I’m suuuuuch a nice guy. Nishishi!” Although you should’ve asked where the both of you were going, you felt knowing the catch was more important, “B-but what’s the catch?”

Kokichi kept at his speedy pace, yet he answered with a voice that still had so much energy in it, “Aww, I’m hurt you think there’s a catch, do you not trust me that much?”

Silence.

“Meanie... but yeah, you were right to suspect me. The catch is.... “ He drum-rolled on your palm, “You just have to kiss me for payment!” He slowed down a bit to send a cheeky smile your way. You almost tripped on your feet as you heard him, “What!? Bu-”

Kokichi quickly interrupted you, “Uh-uh, don’t try to pretend you don’t wanna. I know you have nooooo problem kissing those little sketches of me when you think no one is looking~” His voice quieted down sinisterly as he spoke, the evil smile spreading across his face once more. Although he had been wearing an extremely thick mask of a smile to hide his true feelings, anyone would’ve noticed that small blush on his upper right cheek. Anyone.

“You saw that?” Kokichi cackled at your agitated and flustered face, “Nishishi! Don’t worry, I’m the only one that knows. After all, no one finds you interesting enough to actually notice that.” You furrowed your brow at the subtle hint he had given you, “But you did-”

Kokichi put on a teasing smile this time, “That was a lie! I didn’t see anything with my own eyes, I just assumed you have and so you helped me confirm it! Nice job on fucking yourself over, S/o! Nishishi~!” You rolled your eyes, you liked this guy?

Well anyways, it didn’t seem to matter whether you questioned your feelings for the liar, as you finally made it to where Kokichi had been dragging you to. You watched as Kokichi skipped away from you and hopped on the bench, surrounded by moss and other wild plants.

“Ta-da! When I first saw this place, I immediately thought of you! You know, because you’re a nerd who likes cliché art settings.” He grinned, posing on top of the bench, “How’s this? Nishishi! Don’t answer that, I know this is perfect.”

... He looked like an idiot. But a cute idiot.

Suppressing a laugh, you gestured downwards to guide him down from his strange pose, “U-uh, maybe you could just, sit down? Like a normal person, I mean.” He sneered at you, before reluctantly sitting down, “You’re so boring.” The way he sat on the bench reminded you of a child who had just gotten denied candy.

Smiling in relief, you quickly took a seat on the bench opposite to him, bringing out your supplies excitedly. Despite the pout on Kokichi’s face, and the grudge he wanted to keep, the way you so excitedly took out your canvas made his heart melt as well as his attitude.

In the corner of your eye, you swore you could see Kokichi’s genuine smile, albeit it was lopsided but it still made you flush. Without thinking, you spoke, tilting your head upwards to look at him better, “You should smile more, you’re really pretty like that.” He… his mind blanked for a second, his façade fading away slightly to reveal a genuine expression of shock.

He quickly gained his composure back, “Um, okay? I always smile, are you blind?” Despite his passive-aggressive reply, you couldn’t find any reason to be mad, although you should’ve been. You smiled fondly and shook your head, diving back into concentration towards your canvas.

After an hour of pointless conversation, flirting, and calculated strokes of your brush, you were satisfied with the result. “... Alright, I’m done.” Kokichi sighed exasperatedly as he stood up and stretched, “Finally! I was afraid my limbs were going to freeze forever in that position.” You stared at him accusingly, “You didn’t even stay still the entire time. At one point, you did a fucking cartwheel-”

Kokichi slid on over you, leaning over your seated figure to peak at the painting of him. “Lemme see!” He reached for the painting with his pale hands, causing you to jerk the painting away from his reach. “It’s not dry yet! Just look, don’t touch.” You scolded, unamused by his pouty expression. “You’re no fun S/o-chan, but okay. I know how much you like to be in charge~” He teased, before finally laying his eyes on the painting he stayed still one whole hour for.

You felt your anxiety rise at his silence, “... Well, d-do you like it?” Although you were pretty confident in your ultimate talent and skills, for some odd reason, you felt extremely nervous when you showed it to Kokichi.

You were confused as to why your hands were shaking, you’ve shown your artwork to galleries, museums, the harshest art critics in the world! So why the hell did it matter so much to you if this one boy liked it or not?

“I think it looks super handsome! And by it, I mean me. Nishishi!” He grinned, “I look good in everything after all.” You scoffed, you couldn’t believe you actually expected a genuine compliment from Kokichi, of all people.

“Hey so, it’s time for your payment you know?” Payment... what? You looked up at him in confusion, big fat crocodile tears sprung out from his eyes, “Waaaah! I can’t believe S/o forgot our deal!” You flushed again as you were suddenly reminded of the kiss.

You sighed tiredly, “You were serious?” He glared at you, “I’m always serious!” You gave him an accusing look that screamed, ‘You know that’s bullshit.’ But sighed defeatedly for what seemed like the umpteenth time. As you stood up to walk up to him, you set your painting down nearby.

Squirming underneath his expectant gaze, you leaned in torturously slow until your noses were nearly touching, your eyes were glued to his lips nervously. You kind of just… stood there, waiting. Waiting for him to take initiative, as he usually does. “... You know, You’re kissing me, right? Not the other way around.” His voice was lower, quieter than usual, and you could feel his breath within each word.

He smirked at your awkward shuffle towards him, finding your averting eyes and flushed face extremely endearing. Though Kokichi would never admit it, deep down he was nervous too- But of course, he refused to ever admit that reality. Even to himself.

“I-I know that! I was just… preparing.” He hummed a skeptical ‘Okay’, standing patiently for the kiss you owed him. Letting out a shaky breath, you quickly pressed your lips on his, before immediately pulling away. Well, you tried pulling away. Kokichi gripped your collar, eagerly going in for more. His lips enveloped yours roughly, he could feel you trying to back away and so he just decided he had to go even harder.

Once he pulled away, he saw your lips puffy and swollen, and face completely dazed. You wanted to ask him why he stopped but he interrupted you before you could, “You know, I never said you had to kiss my lips, pervert〜” Your eyes widened at his statement, “It seems you’ve been wanting this for a while, huh?” You didn’t say anything, only fuelling his fire.

“Nishishi! You’re so obsessed with me, it’s adorable~” You took a defensive step back, “I-I am not!” He suddenly leaned his face dangerously close to yours, grinning sadistically as he heard your whimper. “You shouldn’t lie, you know? Especially not to me.” He leaned in next to your ear, catching your earlobe between his teeth and biting gently.

“Anyway!” You snapped out your daze as he barked suddenly, “The nude painting offer still stands, you know!” He yelled out, walking away from you, strangely.

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machinegunbun · 3 years

Text

The house you eventually park in front of is much like yours, just a bit bigger, since Colson didn't live alone. The sound of sirens outside is carried almost melodically in the freezing wind. You soak it all in, wondering about who else in this city felt so far from home and yet right in the thick of it.

"She's a beaut, huh?" Colson quips, motioning to the steps, "but at least we got it to ourselves tonight," his grin could stretch a city mile.

Once inside, Colson immediately turns on a nearby heater and clears the couch, grabbing his RAW tray off the busted up coffee table, almost muscle memory, it seems, for both of you. You lay a fat sack down on the rolling tray as he sweeps the papers out of the way.

"Damn, do you really got glaucoma?" He snorts, untwisting the top. "No wonder I can smell it thru your backpack." He is all smiles while he breaks it down. "Have a seat, make yourself at home," he offers, pointing to the couch cushion free next to him.

You sit down on the very edge, causing Colson to stop in his tracks.

"Aw, come on, don't do me like that," he pouts, pulling a folded blanket from the chair to his left. "I got blankies," he teased, knowing how drafty all these houses are the heater won't cut it. "I said, make yourself at home," he playfully insists, and unexpectedly, he grabs your thigh to pull you so close, you can feel the heat emitting from his jeans.

He continues as if nothing had even happened, luxurious tongue peeking out to seal the blunt. So you wrap the blanket across your laps, and act nonchalant, too, trying to force the lump in your throat all the way down.

"A backwoods, that's classic," you offer as a change of subject, watching mesmerized as the ambient lighting and warm tones of the fake flames of the heater danced across his chiseled face. Godddd, why couldn't you control yourself?

Colson smirked before running a lighter across it. "Only the best for my guest."

The two of you sit cozy under the blanket for a short period of time, passively hitting the blunt and savoring before passing, while Colson rigged up a speaker. As the hip hop played softly, you felt your muscles relax a bit, most they had in 6 years.

Colson began probing you with his eyes again, like he was about to start 20 questions back up.

"So, you're not really from around here, are you?" He digs, pressing a thigh against yours to turn to face you better.

"Ah, no," you say, nodding

"From....?" He prompts, rolling his hand before passing the blunt.

"Down South," you're ashamed the more you divulge.

Colson pulls a face. "You don't have an accent, though," he contests.

"Got rid of it," you shrug. "People think you're stupid," you smile back.

Colson takes a hand and begins rubbing your thigh softly, as if to comfort you, although he can feel the tension increasing doing just the opposite. "I wouldn't think you're stupid, at all," he husks quietly, serious.

You don't want to make a sound for fear it will come out as a squeak.

"Look, I would ask what brings you all the way out here, but..." He trails off before hitting the blunt hard. "I'm a blunt motherfucker, so I'll just say it. I know about the..." He is swallowing the wrong words, struggling despite his frankness. "Well, the whole crew knows about the... The statutory situation," he whispers, like someone is listening. "You don't really talk to nobody, so.. They got curious. There's... There's lots of articles."

You almost disassociate, so he takes it as a sign to continue.

"I couldn't imagine. So, if I'm making you uncomfortable..." He begins to look worried, the desire to backpedal immediately written across his face.

You physically snap back, and force him to stop leaning away from you.

"You're blunt, huh?" You ask, now trying to comfort him.

"Yeah. I'm sorry," he relaxes into your touch, though.

"You don't have any chains or ropes here, so I'm not here by force," you smile, darkly, almost transported back to 15 again.

Colson winces, sympathetically, before shaking his head (to no doubt clear images) the articles he had read that paint an all too vivid picture out of his mind like an etch a sketch.

"Look, I ... I really wanted to get to know you, and... Everybody told me it was a bad idea, you know? Like I would fuck up your life. But I just really can't resist, you seem so cool, so sweet," Colson trails off, realizing in your vulnerable state he had began being too vulnerable as well.

"Thanks. I know that sounds stupid, but, most people... Well, most guys, avoid me like the plague."

Colson melts back into the couch, into your warmth surrounding you, before beginning to pull a cigarette out for each of you. He passes it to you, so intuitive to how on edge you're feeling. He knows you too well already.

"You don't have to be scared, you know," you remind him, "you can keep playing 20 questions." You're joking but serious. "I've possibly purposefully not made any friends here yet. I salute you breaking the ice AND addressing the elephant in the room," you admit. "I like cutting thru the bullshit."

Colson takes a thoughtful drag from his cigarette while formulating his next question.

" okay," he sounds more at ease, "do you have a boyfriend?" He risks, wincing at how insensitive it sounds, but he correctly got the impression it was forgiven and you wanted to move forward exactly as he intended originally.

"Oooh, no, actually," you giggle at the spicy question. "Other than, the, ya know... Situation, shall I say, never been with a man before." You're shocked at how honest you're being.

Colson can't help his jaw dropping. "How... How old are--you're still a virgin??" He is stumbling over his words.

"21, and, yeah," you choke out, sudden shyness taking over.

It was so refreshing he considered you a virgin still that you could die on the spot.

"Whoa. Just.... Damn," Colson stuttered, as the etch a sketch cleaned his slate once again. Hopefully be was clearing thoughts of how tight you must be still, not how damaged you are.

"Do, um," he clears his throat while putting out his cigarette, "what kind of tattoos and piercings do you have?"

"None, of either, actually," you admit, eyes hungrily scanning Colson's inked up neck.

It seems he can't believe his ears.

"Are you.. Holy shit, no way? Prove it," he challenges.

You shrug the blanket and flannel off to expose your belly, shoulders, and lift your crop top to show nothing on collar bones. Colson looks like he would spit if he had water he was drinking. He wasn't expecting you to show him anything for real.

He lifts a tentative hand to your cheek to brush your hair behind the ear, "wow, no ear piercings, either. You're magical," he says heavily. "You're younger than me, by, like, a lot, but anyone... like you, I never would have guessed..."

You realize now that his knuckles still lay resting on your cheek, stroking it softly, and he'll be able to feel them burning red hot with embarrassment and desire The shame, because you've never done this before, never been so close and intimate with someone, and the desire as well for the same reason.

"You're better than I ever even imagined," he admits before falling silent, soaking up your reaction fully,

Colson breaks the silence first. "I want to kiss you," he states, voice dripping with lust, and cracking slightly.

As you place a hand over his much larger on your cheek, he takes this as a sign to keep going. Leaning forward, foreheads almost touching, Colson licks his lips and scans your face hungrily.

"Can I?" He prompts, impatient, pupils blown, and jaw tight with anticipation.

You feel like you barely nod, hand dropping off of his, before he grabs it tightly to put it around his neck.

"Like this, let me show you," he whispers, lips ghosting yours.

In one Swift motion he slides a hand under your lower back in order to lay you down gently on the couch, hovering above you, on the edge of deranged with desire, like a wolf standing over a downed deer. You figure Colson has never had to exhibit this much self control before.

"I wanna defile you, take your innocence," he rasps, thumb finding its way to your bottom lip, stroking gently, opening your mouth ever so slightly. "I want it to be mine, I've wanted this for so long," he smiles, his rock hard cock pressing with a ungodly heat against your pubic bone. He's not even hiding anything anymore, using your exposed tummy and clothed pussy to hump and grind softly in order take the edge off.

"Can I touch you?" He asks desperately, biting his lip so hard you thought it might bleed. "I want to help you relax a little," Colson whispers, though you imagine it's just as much for him as it is you.

"Anything you want, Cols." You're almost choking.

He lets out a dark laugh at this, and in an instant his hands feel like they're all over you, exploring, finally coming to rest at your jugular, feeling the intense pounding underneath his fingertips.

"You're scared?" It's a question as much as it is a statement. "Or turned on?" Colson raises a brow, other hand massaging your thigh, slowly curling it around his waist, positioning and posing you like a ragdoll, your body defeated and limp to his touches. You are in a state of bliss and fear. "Maybe both," he concludes, smirking.

At this you close your eyes, expecting any second to wake up from this all too familiar dream, as you've pined for your coworker possibly even longer than he has.

Suddenly, Colson is at your ear, breath hot and desperate. "Don't be scared babydoll, you're in good hands," he reassures, nipping at your earlobe in such a way it sends a shiver all throughout your body. "I... Will go... Slowww," he teases out painstakingly, "slow as you need me to," he adds gently.

It was then you were startled into the reality of the situation by the sound of his belt coming undone, soft noises as it is expertly slipped out of his belt loops in one, fluid motion. Colson feels you panic underneath him, and he is quick to respond to this.

—-

Havent had a chance to read it yet but i wanted yall to have fhis lmfaoo. A gift from bigblakdix to me to you

#mgbrecommends #mgk #mgk smut #mgk fic #mgk blurb #colson baker concept #colson baker blurb #colson baker smut #submission

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official-weasley · 3 years

Text

A New Home - (The Irreplaceable Charlie Weasley AU)

Warnings: A realtor ready to be hexed by Charlie

Word count: 3,695

Characters: Charlie Weasley and my OC Nova from TICW which you can find here

Nova

“So then we finally found the hole where Fang was kept and I wanted to investigate, you know, be cautious but your mum here decided to be a Gryffindor for a day and act brave and just jumped down there. I, of course, jumped right after her and I was a bit mad at her because...”

“A bit?” I raised my eyebrow at Charlie.

“Hey, I am telling the story.” Charlie stuck out his tongue at me. “As I was saying, a bit mad at her because I wanted to go first and didn't want to see her get hurt, and then we talked in a totally normal voice that one can't consider shouting...”

“Right.” I giggled at his ridiculous story-telling.

“Love, stop interrupting me.” Charlie glared at me. “Then we heard Fang and we ran to this cave that belonged to a Red Cap and well, we saved the dog!” Charlie threw his hand in the air all proud and hero-like.

“With a few alterations and details missed that's the story, yes.” I chuckled.

I ran my fingers through Charlie's hair who was resting his head on my knees telling our Red Cap adventure story to the baby in my belly. I am five and a half months pregnant now and ever since I started to show, Charlie has been talking and telling the baby stories, looking at it as if it's the most beautiful thing in the world. Sometimes he places gentle kisses on top of my bump and tells the baby that he loves them already and that he can't wait to meet them. He has evenings when I am reading a book and he gets bored and just starts to rub my belly, singing to it.

I find the whole thing adorable and it warms my heart that he is so excited to be a dad. I know that he is a family man and that he always wished to have a family of his own but I have never imagined him to fall into the role of being a dad so quickly.

The voice he used to talk to the baby was the softest I have ever heard him speak in and his exaggerated stories from the Sanctuary were my favorite to listen to. He made himself look like a strong superhero who all the dragons listen to and if I could, I would listen to him talk all the time. Less than 4 months now and we will meet our baby and I can't wait for Charlie to tell them more incredible stories, no matter how much he changes it or how many details he leaves out.

“I have another one!” Charlie exclaimed after a few minutes of him staring at my baby bump, probably daydreaming about holding our child.

“Char!” I giggled.

“Shh, love. I'm in my story mode.” He sluggishly made his way to me and pressed a tender kiss on my lips.

“So, let me tell you the story of how your mum and dad met.” Charlie went back to resting his head on my knees.

“Didn't you tell this one already?” I teased.

“No.” He shook his head. “Not in the way I am about to tell it.”

“Of course, there are variations.” I tried sounding serious, finding his excitement amusing.

“So, by now you probably know that when mum and I were at school I was a bit obsessed with dragons...”

“Was?” I raised my eyebrows again.

“Am...” Charlie playfully rolled his eyes, correcting himself. “Of course, not as obsessed as I am with your mother and with you.” He kissed the spot right under my belly button.

“Okay, where was I? Right, I am a bit obsessed with dragons...”

“A bit?” I pressed my lips together not to start laughing.

“Love, let me tell this story,” Charlie whined.

“Okay, I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” I ruffled his hair and nodded to make him continue.

“So, I was reading this book about dragons and some Slytherins came by to say hello in a bit of a rude way and your mother, amazing as she is, didn't like the way those students were talking to me and she drew out her wand and hexed them all to the ground and the look she was giving them scared them so much that they didn't leave their dormitory for a week!” Charlie gasped dramatically.

“That is not at all what happened.” I laughed wholeheartedly.

“Of course, it did! You're brain just remembers it differently because you're modest.” He smiled gently at me and sent me a wink.

“Your mum is a hero and never let her tell you otherwise, she just doesn't like to praise herself, so that's my job!” I grinned as he said those words, his eyes on my belly.

“And you're doing great and sorry to interrupt you but we have to go.” I cupped his cheek to make him look at me.

“But I was just about to tell them about Helga, the Giant Squid!” Charlie looked disappointed.

“And we would both just love to hear that story but we don't have time. We'll be late to meet the realtor.” I explained.

“That's not in another two hours.” Charlie swung his hand.

“Char, you have been telling stories for those two hours.” I giggled.

Charlie turned around to look at the clock on the wall.

“Blimey, I got a bit carried away again, didn't I?” His cheeks turned scarlet.

“No,” I shook my head, trying to get up, “I love how into your stories you get.”

He offered me his hand to help me stand up. It was already harder for me to get up and I still had so many months to go! I made my way to the bathroom. All I do all day is read baby books, listen to Charlie tell stories, and pee. Pregnancy isn't at all what I expected but not in a bad way – in a way, it's kind of fun.

“Okay, do you have everything?” Charlie asked as I walked down the stairs.

“I have to go pee one more time.” I smiled sheepishly, returning to the bathroom. “Didn't you pee five minutes ago?”

“Don't question the bladder of a pregnant woman, Charles,” I shouted from the bathroom.

“Fair enough.” I heard him giggle, waiting patiently for me to finish.

—

“I think this one will be more to your liking.” The realtor grinned at both of us before turning around and rushing to the building.

“And I think we should change the agent,” Charlie whispered to me looking a bit annoyed.

“One more house, one more chance.” I tried staying optimistic.

Honestly, I was only doing so to stop Charlie from hexing the man who was showing us houses. There are 3 wizard villages around the 3 kilometers radius of the Sanctuary and one Muggle one. We looked at 4 houses so far – one in each – and despite describing to the realtor in advance what we have in mind for our new home, the houses he showed us were nothing that we were hoping to see.

Charlie was getting annoyed, worried about me being on my feet and apparating as much as we did and I was losing all hope that we would be able to find a nice house so close to the Sanctuary. We both don't like to apparate so we wanted a place to live where we could easily walk to the Reserve.

Due to us having quite some money spared and both having a nice salary, Charlie insisted that I stay at home the second I started showing, due to how dangerous our job is. I tried protesting for about five minutes – missing my work due to being home because of morning sickness a lot already – but he didn't want to hear it and with all the years of being together I knew better than to argue with him.

Not that I have anything to complain about. Charlie makes me breakfast every morning before going to work. I mostly read during the time he is working because mum and Penny sent me so many books and the Ravenclaw in me was jumping from excitement. By my 5th month, I was so knowledgeable about babies and giving birth that I don't think I can get more ready. After Charlie comes home we eat dinner together and then we usually cuddle on the couch and tell each other about our day. He either tells the baby stories or we play a game where we try to guess who the baby will resemble more and of course, there's always the question will they like animals and beasts — more specifically dragons.

If I'm having a rough day – where everything irritates me and no matter how I sit or lay down I get uncomfortable – Charlie either massages my feet or my shoulders and brews me mint tea.

Because I was home alone for most of the day and I have a vivid imagination and know how to draw I made some sketches of our dream home. I also researched the villages around the Reserve and tried to get as much information for the realtor for him to have an easier job finding us the right home.

I know how much it means to Charlie that we stay near the Sanctuary and since I felt bad that he was working and I was just sitting at home, I wanted to do my best to make his wish to be near dragons a reality.

What the realtor showed us so far was crushing that. One house was half demolished and we would have to put in a lot of work to get it back in order despite us telling him that we want a completely furnished cottage-like house. The other one was about the size of our home now – which was the main reason we were moving in the first place and we said specifically that we wanted there to be at least three bedrooms as we weren't planning on moving again any time soon and we wanted to have more children.

The third one was empty and Charlie was sure it was haunted and the fourth one didn't have a single piece of wood in it and only a small window in the kitchen.

“Alright, one more and then let me hex him, please.” Charlie made puppy eyes.

“Deal.” I offered him my hand, a playful expression on my face.

“We are here!” The realtor turned to us, the proudest grin on his face.

“Wow.” Charlie and I said together.

“See, I told you you will like this one.”

He unlocked the front gate and rushed to the door of the house, or should I say manor.

“He is mental!” Charlie said through his teeth.

“Calm down, Char. Let's just look around and then get rid of him.” I whispered.

The house he thought so much would be to our liking was nothing like we hoped it would be.

“It has 5 bathrooms, 7 bedrooms, two gardens, and a pool!” The man almost jumped in the air.

“Great.” I forced a smile, looking up the tall ceilings of the dark room, feeling more like in prison than at home.

“I didn't know we apparated from Romania. Is this Azkaban?” Charlie tried lightening the mood, probably when he saw the disappointed expression on my face.

“7 bedrooms, what are we supposed to do with that? It looks nothing like a home and I most definitely can't picture us raising our children here. Imagine them running around and getting lost in their own home. How are we supposed to find them? Shout all around the house? It's not intimate, it's not family-friendly and it's cold!” Charlie's eyebrows came closer together with each sentence, gripping his wand.

“It's so big, I don't even know where that man is so that I could hex him!” He continued.

“Let's just go,” I suggested.

“What?” Charlie turned to me.

“Let's just leave him here. We don't know where he is anyway and before we find him we can already be halfway home if we walk.”

“But...” Charlie tried to protest.

I knew he wanted to shout at the man and probably wasn't joking about hexing him at this point.

“Char, please. I really have to pee and my feet are killing me.” I pleaded, hoping he would let this go.

“Okay.” He sighed. “But I am only doing this for you because you have to pee and I want to massage your feet.”

“Of course.” I nodded and gently entwined our fingers to pull him toward, what I hoped, was the right door to get out of here.

“Charlie, we have to apparate,” I said as we got out of the house after what seemed like 15 minutes spent in this labyrinth.

“No, love. You apparated enough as it is. Remember what the doctor said.” He gave me a warning look.

“But I need to pee and I can't hold it until we come home,” I whined, pressing my legs together.

“Okay, okay.” Charlie pulled me in a hug and started looking around. “There has to be a pub or a restaurant around here where you could go pee.”

“There!” I pointed at a sign that had a plate and a fork on it.

“Go, go, go. Find the bathroom and I'll explain to the staff why we came.” He gently pushed me toward the building.

I tried walking as normally as possible, me having to pee so badly that it hurt while avoiding eye contact with everybody inside the restaurant as I was hoping nobody would stop me. I spotted the bathroom sign at once and rushed inside.

Just as I was ready to head back out, drying my hands in a paper towel, I looked at the mirror and my eyes caught sight of something behind me. I turned around and looked through the bathroom window.

It wasn't just a house. It was a two-story wooden house. It didn't look too big and it had a For Sale sign in front of it!

I hurried out of the bathroom and found Charlie talking to the bartender, telling them why I needed to urgently use the bathroom.

“Thank you.” I smiled at them and pulled Charlie by his sleeve.

“Where's the rush, love? This place looks nice. Let me treat you to lunch. We haven't been on a date for a month.” Charlie bestowed me with one of those smiles that usually weakened my knees but I was so excited now that I couldn't let his charms work on me.

“Maybe later. I have to show you something.” I jumped a little, excitement in my voice.

“What?” Charlie got curious.

“Come with me.”

We exited the restaurant and started up the path to the hill where the house stood.

“Look!” I pointed at it as I finished explaining how I know about it in the first place.

“That looks promising.” Charlie gasped.

We knocked on the door but nobody answered. With one look at each other, we knew we have to see how it is inside. I don't know if it was the excitement in my chest or did I have a good feeling about this.

We knocked again and then tried the door. It was open.

“Just a quick peek and if we like it we go to the agency tomorrow,” Charlie said and I nodded.

It was perfect. It had big windows that let a lot of light in. It was completely furnished with modern yet minimalistic furniture. It had two bathrooms, a master bedroom, and three other rooms – just like we wanted. The kitchen with a big dining table. The living room was spacious with a very cozy sofa and a fireplace – something Charlie was hoping for because it reminds him of the Burrow. The walls were wooden but well isolated and there was even a small guest room on the lower floor.

I watched Charlie walk down the stairs as he finished looking at the upper floor and I couldn't help myself imagining him walking down those stairs every single day. I was ready to tell him that when I felt a weird tickling sensation on the inside of my belly. I narrowed my eyes, not really familiar with the feeling, when it happened again.

Before Charlie could ask me why I was making a weird face, my eyes widened as I realized what just happened.

“Oh, Merlin! Char, come here!” I motioned with my hand.

“What? What is going on? Is everything okay?” His eyes went from mine to my hands on my belly.

“I...I think the baby just kicked!” I exclaimed, moving my hands around to feel anything.

“No way!” Charlie gasped and kneeled before me.

“Yes, twice!”

Charlie didn't know what to do, he was shaking from excitement, looking at my belly as if the baby was about to wave at him.

“It happened again!” I was pretty sure that at this point, my eyes were sparkling.

“Can you feel it?” Charlie asked, hope in his voice.

“Put your hands on it. Maybe you can sense it.” I gestured for him to lift his arms and positioned his hands on my belly the second he did.

“There it was! Did you catch it?” I looked down at Charlie who was staring at my baby bump with his mouth slightly open.

“Char?” I tilted my head, rubbing circles on the back of his hands.

“I...”

“Did you feel it?” I lifted his chin gently so that our eyes met.

The second they did I knew he felt the baby kick because he was on the verge of tears.

“Nova, I felt it. I felt the baby kick!” He stood up so abruptly that I thought he was going to make us both stumble and he squeezed me in the tightest embrace, rocking us back and forth.

“This is a sign.” He whispered in my ear. “The baby likes the house, we have to go to the agency.”

“You want to live here, sweetheart?” I looked down at my belly as Charlie let me go and I felt another kick.

I didn't know if the kick was coincidental or if the baby could understand me, but I didn't care. I looked around one more time and I knew this was it. This was exactly what we were looking for.

“Who are you?”

We both jumped in the air, startled by the voice.

“We...we saw the sale sign and we...we wanted to look around. We...we didn't know anyone lived here.” Charlie stuttered, his cheeks bright red.

“There isn't anyone living here and the house is for sale. I'm the realtor.” The woman carefully took another step forward, offering Charlie her hand.

“Is it still available?” I couldn't hide the hope in my voice.

“It is.” The woman grinned when she saw how excited we were.

She showed us around and told us that the owner who built the house figured that the still life wasn't for him and decided to travel the world instead. She took us to see the garden which was perfect for children to play in. We felt as if we just got the best birthday surprise and without speaking I knew that Charlie already felt at home as much as I did.

However, our smiles were wiped off our faces the second the woman told us the price.

“That is a little bit out of our budget,” Charlie said to me when the realtor left us to discuss her offer.

“A little bit?” I sighed, disappointed.

“We can manage.” Charlie put his hands on my shoulders, making me look at him.

“Char, that's all our savings, and I won't make any money when I'm home with the baby, we can't be that reckless.” I shook my head.

Even though I was in love with the house, I knew we had to think reasonably.

“I'll work extra hours then.” Charlie offered.

“Char, we have to think with our heads here.” I pressed my lips together, to stop my jaw from trembling.

I couldn't stop myself from being so emotional. Of course, it was too good to be true. The house was exactly as we pictured it. I knew it was farfetched that we would get our dream home.

Charlie's brows furrowed when he saw the expression on my face, me obviously failing at hiding my emotions.

“Stay here.” He kissed my forehead and went outside.

I turned around to look at it one more time, to say goodbye to the house we could almost afford. I sighed and turned around to go outside. I stopped, however, when Charlie walked back in with the biggest grin on his face.

“Welcome home, love.” He cupped my face and kissed me hard on the mouth.

“Charles, what did you do?” I wanted to be angry with him so badly.

This was supposed to be a mutual decision and he wasn't thinking clearly, already being in love with this house. But at the same time, I couldn't blame him.

“I played the baby card.” He winked at me, looking proud of himself.

“What?”

“I told her that we can't afford it and asked if there is any way to lower the price a little bit. She asked me why we wanted the house so badly and I told her that we looked at so many today but that the baby kicked for the first time right in the living room and the woman melted when she saw me tear up, lowering the price to our budget!” Charlie jumped in his spot.

“No way!” I breathed. “Saying that I am pregnant, really does wonders!”

“I know!” Charlie lifted me and twirled me around.

“So, this is really our new home?” I asked one more time, the biggest smile on my face, my eyes glistening with tears.

“It's our home.” He kissed me on the nose and then leaned down to press his lips on my belly as well.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.” He said with a shaky voice and rubbed my belly.

#harry potter hogwarts mystery #harry potter fanfiction #hphm charlie #charlie weasley #charlie weasley fanfiction #hogwarts mystery mc #the weasleys #hphm fanfiction #hp imagine #charlie weasley x oc #hphm imagine #charlie weasley imagine #harry potter imagine #weasley fanfiction #the burrow

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mimisempai · 3 years

Text

Wait for me on the other side 3/8

Chapter Summary:

Rain... Fireworks... Romance?

https://archiveofourown.org/works/32948254/chapters/82052251

April 15, 2021 - 7:00

Loki, his heart pounding, approached the mailbox whose flag was raised.

He opened it and unfolded the small note with trembling fingers.

Thank you for this lovely attention. I haven't stopped wearing it since I received it.

You tell me that this connection with me allows you to open up to others and not feel alone anymore and you ask me if I want to continue this correspondence?

I don't want to stop either!

I don't know if we'll ever meet, but I want to continue to get to know you and for you to get to know me.

Tell me what you like.

Yours, Mobius.

Loki breathed a sigh of relief, put the letter in his pocket and left. He would have to work before he could write. This was no longer a matter of a quick word, he wanted to take time to think before he wrote.

As he walked through the school gates, although he loved his job, for once he couldn't wait for the day to be over.

April 17, 2019

Mobius was sitting in what had become his special Loki spot, the armchair in front of the bay window, a steaming cup of coffee next to him, reading Loki's latest letter.

I love Norse mythology and my work.

My favorite cocktail is Gimlets, gin and lime.

This brings me to my favorite color: green.

I have a sweet tooth, I like all kinds of sweets and pastries, and on the other hand I also like everything spicy.

I like quiet evenings reading and listening to music.

I like Jane Austen, The Brontë sisters and Paulo Coehlo.

I like to use metaphors but I have heard that they are not always great.

And although I can't stand violence, I like daggers, especially old ones.

Oh and I forgot, I like the house on the hill.

Mobius promised himself to go and see in Sylvie's antique weapons store if she had any antique daggers.

I can't stand cruelty, condescension, and lies.

And although they are green I hate peas.

Mobius laughed at the last sentence, he finished his coffee and went to get his notepad to start writing.

April 19, 2021

Loki, sitting cross-legged on his couch with Croki's head on his leg, was reading Mobius' latest letter.

I like to take watches apart and put them back together, to see the mechanism inside. They are all different.

I like to walk in the streets of New York and discover places by chance.

I like to draw, or rather make sketches that I never finish.

I like whiskey, Jack Daniels, and occasionally a good glass of red French Bordeaux wine.

I like all kinds of music, but my preference is for jazz.

I don't like lies, preconceived judgments, and gratuitous meanness, well, just plain meanness.

And I also like the house on the hill.

How did you end up living there anyway?

Loki read the letter again, folded it up and put it in the little box with the others before going to bed and thinking about what he would answer the next day.

April 21, 2019

Mobius went out still in his robe because it was a day of rest. He was surprised to see that Loki had already answered if he was to believe the little flag. He refused to question the fact that his heartbeat had accelerated.

He went to get the letter, then read it in front of his breakfast, Croki at his feet.

I rented it after college. It was the strangest place I had ever seen. I couldn't imagine anyone building it. Or... I couldn't imagine anyone building it and not living in it. I liked the way it sort of...hovered over the water. I loved that path that led to it. I don't know why, it has a strange, timeless charm.

April 23, 2021

Loki, on break between classes, took the letter out of his pocket and read it again.

Yes, the fact that you have to walk so much to get to the front door and that it's uphill, it's like you have to earn the right to enter the house. Every time you enter the house, it's like you're embarking on a quest whose prize is the right to enter.

I'm sorry, I must sound eccentric.

April 24, 2019

During his lunch break, and all day, he read that simple phrase from Loki over and over again.

Don't apologize, you can be eccentric. You can be whatever you want.

Mobius had always felt different, both in his personal and professional life choices, and this simple phrase eased some of his inner struggles. He couldn't ignore the warm feeling in his chest.

*********

A few weeks passed. The wind was blowing violently on a late spring day in New York. Loki was walking rapidly towards the school. His phone started to vibrate in his pocket, he grabbed it to answer the call.

-Yes?

Loki lost the smile on his face.

-Look, this isn't easy for me either. You know that... no, I'm not mad that you called. I just... I'm sorry, I have to go to work and I...

He was approaching the school and didn't want to continue this conversation as more and more students came in.

-I don't think that's a good idea. No. Sigyn, I'm asking you not to come. Because we need more time... Especially if we want to stay friends. I just don't think we should... look, I'm on my way to work, we'll talk about it. Bye.

Loki sighed, shaking his head as he walked through the large front door.

" Already feeling demotivated?" asked Natasha as she greeted him with a smile.

"Oh no no!" protested Loki.

"That's good timing. Heimdall has caught the flu and we need someone to cover his classes while he's absent. Since you have an art degree, I was wondering if..."

"No worries! I'm happy to oblige."

"Perfect," Natasha thanked him, "You can check with the assistant about Heimdall's schedule and make arrangements then. Thank you Loki, really. If the exams weren't coming up, I wouldn't have asked you."

Loki replied, "No worries, really."

If anything, he was glad to see that even though he was the last one in and the youngest teacher, he was trusted.

At the end of the week, as he walked home with his arms full of groceries, he thought maybe he should have thought about it before saying yes.

Because he was exhausted.He hadn't realized how much time and energy it would take to handle two positions.

Fortunately, Heimdall was back at work on Monday.

Loki put his groceries in the car and thought he'd stop by the house on the hill before heading home.

When he arrived, the little flag was up.

He took the letter and opened it.

Hi, pen pal. You haven't written in a while. I hope all is well.

You actually I

This is ridiculous, just a few words to write and it makes me sound like a babbling teenager.

Well I'm writing it down: I MISS YOU

It was obvious that the last words had been written with force.

Loki felt a strange warm feeling in his chest. He had also hugely missed the correspondence, so he hurried to answer on the spot and put the letter in the box before going home.

**********

Parking the car in front of the mailbox, Mobius chose to ignore the butterflies in his stomach as he saw the little flag raised.

He took the letter out of the box and once he got home, Croki fed, he went to his favorite place to read the letter.

It has been a difficult week.

I couldn't get away from work and only had the strength to go to bed at night. I can't remember the last time I looked up at the sky, or saw a damn tree. That's what I miss. The nature around me.

It's not so bad when I'm busy. It's when I have a minute to breathe, to look around, that it seems really hard. I wonder what I'm doing here, alone, in this gray city. I miss the trees.

PS: I missed you too

June 15, 2019 - 9:00 pm.

In the evening, Mobius left the house with a small tree in the pickup's trailer. He was driving towards the city.

June 15, 2021 - 9:30 pm

In the middle of the walk from school to his apartment, Loki saw the black rain clouds gathering in the sky. Suddenly there was a rumble of thunder in the distance and as he was on the home stretch, the rain began to pour.

June 15, 2019 - 9:35 PM

Arriving at 105 MacDougal Street - Greenwich Village, obviously still under construction, Mobius parked the pickup and pulled a shovel and the tree from the trailer. He began digging a hole outside the construction site that would become Loki's apartment building. Once finished, he began planting the tiny, fragile tree.

June 15, 2021 - 9:35 pm

Loki was completely soaked as he walked the last few yards to his front door. He struggled to find his keys, dropped them, and grew more and more frustrated as the rain poured down on him, when suddenly it stopped. He was baffled, as thunder and lightning continued to flash across the sky, and the rain continued to fall all around him, but not on him.

He looked up.

Above him were the dense green leafy branches of a young tree that formed a canopy swaying in the rain right above Loki. It hadn't been there a second ago, but now it was sheltering him, and Loki was stunned.

June 15, 2019 - 9:37pm

Mobius smiled as he swung the shovel into the pickup's trailer before heading home.

June 15, 2021 - 9:37 pm

Loki, overcome with emotion, broke into a smile and whispered to Mobius, even though he couldn't hear him, "Thank you."

Raindrops fell through the green branches as Loki danced under the tree, his face to the sky.

*********

2019 - A few days later

Casey stood on the small path in front of Mobius' house, "Wow!!!"

Mobius motioned for him to follow him inside.Casey entered, still stunned by the house.

"So, this is where you're hiding?"

Mobius replied with a smile, "Yeah.You want a beer?"

"Yeah thanks."

Mobius pulled two beers out of the fridge and they went to the chairs in front of the bay window and talked about the house for a while. Casey had lots of questions.

Casey took a sip and his face became more serious.

"Mobius. I didn't just come here to escape my pathetic existence in the city. I came to talk to you about TK and ask you to come back with us. We need you."

Mobius shook his head, "TK? Sorry Casey but no."

"I'm sure if you talked to her..." insisted Casey.

"Forget it.Ravonna doesn't want me to come back. I don't want to come back. Everyone's happier now."

Casey argued, "What about your work? Your work was awesome. Even she admitted that. Look, I know it's hard, but if you put your problems with her aside, you-"

"I said forget it." replied Mobius, this time with a sharp tone before softening, "Sorry. It's just... I like it here. And I like my job at the store."

Casey nodded and accepted the answer before asking, curious again, "Are you in a relationship with anyone?"

Mobius answered after a slight hesitation that didn't go unnoticed, "No."

"Why did you hesitate?"

"I didn't hesitate."

"Yes, you did."

Mobius insisted, "I...I'm not involved with anyone, okay?"

"Okay." replied Casey, who smiled playfully before continuing, "All I'm saying is that maybe you should think about the future."

Mobius began to laugh. He couldn't stop himself.

Casey looked at him as if he had gone crazy, "What?"

Mobius continued to laugh.

"What?"

**********

A few days later, with Loki's letter open in the passenger seat of his pickup, Mobius drove to the train station near Brooklyn College of Arts.

He parked, picked up the letter and got out, heading for the entrance to the station.

Around this time two years ago, I lost something.

In the Brooklyn train station.

I was going back to my parents and left it on the platform. See if you can find it for me. I won't tell you what it is.

Then put it in the mailbox. It's your mission if you choose to accept it.

Mobius could not resist a challenge. So he found himself at that moment looking for an object he knew nothing about. He walked through the station. There were a few people. He looked for a single man and saw none. Just a few families and an elderly couple.

He continued to search when suddenly, through the window overlooking the station platform, he saw a young man with long black hair get up and get ready to board the train.

Mobius wasn't sure if it was him, but he felt deep down that he was Loki, and he was amazingly handsome. Mobius hurried through the door and onto the station platform. He was about to head towards him when he stopped.

The young man had embraced a woman who had her back to Mobius.

They kissed and said goodbye.

Neither of them noticed that Loki, for it was undoubtedly Loki, had left a book on the bench behind him. Mobius saw it, but it would be awkward to approach and interrupt the kiss. He hesitated.

The train driver announced the final boarding.

Loki separated from the woman, obviously reluctantly, and boarded the train.

The woman Loki had kissed did not move and watched the train pull away until it was completely out of sight. He did not notice the book. Mobius watched him leave and once he was gone, he approached the bench. He looked at the book that Loki had left behind. It was a well-worn copy of Persuasion by Jane Austen. It had definitely been Loki.

********

Loki impatiently went to the mailbox, thinking that perhaps Mobius had already been to the station.

He opened it, and was disappointed when he didn't see the book and just a little note.

WHAT ARE YOU DOING ON THE 4TH OF JULY?

Loki, a little disappointed, answered immediately on the same piece of paper and just as he was about to leave, he heard the characteristic sound of the little flag being raised and went back to the box and opened it. He grabbed the small paper and unfolded it.

L: Going to the fireworks, I guess.

I go every year. Why?

M: Would you like to watch them together? From the cliff. The fireworks on the lake are beautiful

L: I know, I watched them from the house the time I lived there.

You're not asking me out, are you?

M: No, no. I just thought it might be nice to do the same thing, that's all.

L: The same thing, two years apart.

M: It's better than staying home.

L: Okay. Let's go see the fireworks.

M: See you in 10 days then. July 4th at 10pm in front of the mailbox.

Mobius did not wait for an answer, and walked happily back to the house. Even though he had denied it, it still felt like a date of some sort.

The butterflies began to fly again.

July 4, 2019/2021 - 10:00 pm.

Two years apart, in the same place, Loki and Mobius sat next to the mailbox. Mobius brought one of the seats from the garden furniture and Loki brought an old folding camping seat in his car.

He is armed with his pad and pencil.

The strange and timeless conversation started again, always punctuated by the little flag that went up and down.

L: Did you go to the station? I never got my book.

M: Let me keep it for a while. I want to read it.

By the way, there's something I wanted to ask you.

Who was the girl at the station?

Your fiancée?

Why didn't you tell me about her?

Loki thought it sounded like Mobius was jealous, but didn't want to get the wrong idea.

L: You don't tell me about your love life either.

M: Because I don't have one unfortunately.

My God, I can't believe you didn't tell me you were married.

L: I'm not married. We broke up when I moved to New York.

I'm on my own.

The fireworks just started.

M: They started here too.

I'm sure yours are better, since it's supposed to get better every year.

L: Probably. Let's enjoy the sight.

Afterwards, during the fireworks, the flag did not move for a while. Then when the grand finale was over, and the silence fell, the flag suddenly rose, making Loki jump.

M: At the station, when I saw you... I didn't expect... I mean, you didn't tell me you were so gorgeous.

Loki read these words and could not suppress a small gasp of surprise. He looked around embarrassed even though he knew for a fact that no one was there.

L: Not fair.

You saw me but I still don't know what you look like.

Mobius ran his hand over his face and figured that since it was truth night, he might as well go for it.

M: You're right. I wouldn't mind knowing what I'll look like in two years. Why don't we meet in the future and tell me what you think?

Loki thought about it and then looked at his watch, it was 10:43 pm, he took a deep breath, suddenly excited and nervous

L: Why don't you call me on July 4, 2021 at 10:44 pm

As Loki finished the last line of the "4" the phone rang.

He almost fell out of his chair.

He steadied himself with a pounding heart and picked up, "Hello?"

________

Who is on the other end of the phone...?

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 (End)

As always, bear with me as it is not beta'd and english is not my native language I hope you enjoyed it nonetheless🥰

#lokius fic #alternative ending #no powers au #loki #mobius m mobius #loki series #lokius #loki x mobius #time husbands #timefrost #developing relationship #penpal

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omgrachwrites · 3 years

Text

Pictures of You - Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter x Y/N

Summary: After years you finally realise that your feelings for Harry have developed into more than just friendship and you struggle to believe that he feels the same.

Prompts: ‘Can I draw you?’ ‘I love you.’ ‘You mean like a friend?’

Warnings: fluff, fluff and more fluff!!!

Words: 1119

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me!

A/N: This is for @wreckofawriter‘s 3k writing challenge, congrats once again love! It was surreal for me not to be writing my Sirius fic today but I highkey loved writing this, this is my first time writing for Harry so I hope this is okay! Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think! I love you all! xxx

It was a usual Saturday night in the Gryffindor common room; you and Hermione had just finished your homework that was due on Monday, while Harry and Ron had their heads stuck in Harry’s stupid potions book. Harry seemed to be doing a lot better in potions this year and perhaps it was because Snape wasn’t teaching it this year. However, you knew that there was more to it; you knew there was something that he wasn’t telling you, but you wouldn’t pry.

Sighing, you stretched out your legs and placed them on Harry’s lap; he momentarily glanced up and grinned at you. It was so nice to see him smile; ever since Sirius had died a smile from Harry was a rare thing to come by. When he looked back down at his book you took the time to study his profile. His jaw was clenched – something that he always did when he had too much on his mind – and he attempted to flatten his always unruly hair.

You managed to smother a giggle; it was amazing that much had changed in a few months. Harry had been one of your best friends since your second year – you were one of the few that believed that he wasn’t the heir of Slytherin – but it was only now that you were developing feelings for him. Or maybe you always had had feelings for him and you were only just realising them now.

“Harry?” you called out before you could stop yourself.

“Hmm?” he murmured as he looked up at you and you felt the breath get stuck in your throat.

You had wanted to ask him this for ages but now that he was looking at you with those gorgeous emerald eyes, you weren’t quite sure, “um, can I draw you?” when Harry’s cheeks grew scarlet and Ron smirked to himself, you explained yourself further, “I just think that it might be good practice for my art. You obviously don’t have to,” you bit your lip.

Harry cleared his throat as he ruffled a hand through his hair and pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “if it will help you, then of course. You didn’t have to ask.”

You smiled at Harry’s flushed cheeks but before you could thank him, Ron spoke up, “hang on mate,” he smirked as he looked over at you, the tips of his ears going red, “what kind of pictures are we talking about here Y/N?”

“Ron!” you laughed as you tossed a cushion in his direction. Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head – she and Ron had been at odds more than usual this year – but you were certain that you could see the ghost of a smirk on her face.

The perfect opportunity for you to draw Harry arrived a couple of weeks later, you didn’t want him to model for you because it would be his worst nightmare and you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. You wanted to capture the natural beauty that Harry radiated, when he thought that no one else was looking. It was on the morning of a Quidditch match when Harry was talking to Ron. He looked nervous but you could see that excited gleam in his eyes and you so wanted to capture it on paper. You were sitting far enough away that you could remain inconspicuous.

Throughout the match, you sketched a couple of pictures of him on his broom and as he celebrated with his team when Gryffindor won. A sigh of longing escaped you as you watched him zoom through the air.

A couple of weeks after the match you were leaving the library one evening after you had finished tutoring some first years. You were just walking along the corridor, minding your own business before you heard a loud call of your name.

“Hi Y/N!” you were so startled that you lost grip of your books and papers, and they tumbled to the floor. Harry laughed, as he jogged up to you and helped you with your things, “sorry.”

“What are you doing out and about at this time?” you asked.

Harry shrugged a shoulder, “lessons with Dumbledore, what about you?”

“Tutoring some of the first years,” you smiled.

He grinned back at you as he glanced down at the papers that he was holding and his mouth opened a little bit and your heart started pounding in your chest, so wildly that you were afraid it would jump from your chest. His green eyes scanned the page before he looked at you with a bashful smile.

“This is incredible, you are so talented. Though I think you have made me far too attractive,” he grinned as he showed you the page. It was the picture that you had drawn on the morning of the Quidditch match; you were far too flustered to say anything. Harry bit his lip at your silence, “may I have it?”

“O-of course,” you mumbled, finally finding your voice and he gave you a grin so blinding that you almost swooned.

His eyes flickered down to your lips before he looked back at your face, the movement was so quick that you were starting to think that you had imagined it, “Y/N,” he started nervously, “I love you.”

“You mean like a friend?” you asked, refusing to think about the alternative, you refused to get your hopes up.

Harry let out a frustrated groan as he rubbed the side of his nose, “more than a friend, I love you, really.”

You giggled nervously, inside you were freaking out but you wouldn’t let Harry know. He couldn’t be serious, you had never been that lucky, “wow, is drawing a picture of you all it takes?”

“Y/N,” his voice was strangled as he cupped your cheeks, the pads of his fingers felt rough against your skin and his eyes were wild, “I mean it, I love you,” he looked so vulnerable and scared, Harry had always been so brave but maybe he didn’t always have to be, “it seemed to happen slowly and then all at once, before I could catch my breath.”

You let out a happy gasp as your insides went all warm and your legs nearly turned to jelly, you knew that he was telling the truth because that was exactly what you felt. You were so lucky to have someone as amazing as Harry love you.

“I know what you mean,” you beamed at the handsome boy as you stood up on your tiptoes and kissed him softly. You felt him chuckle against your lips as he kissed you back. The two of you were going to be just fine.

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

Taglist: @wreckofawriter @smiithys @amelie-black @elayneblack

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foureyeswithanicesmile · 3 years

Text

Tattoos and Too little space.

-so this is maybe the last Part to my “Mr Todd” trilogy. Smut, tattoos, tension and then back to tattoos because I don’t know how to write about anything that isn’t foreplay. Also new titans episode drops today very pleased. Anyways enjoy and send in requests.

“ You ever wanted a tattoo?”

The question was more eager than you would’ve liked it to be, It certainly overtook the mind of Jason Todd; evident in the way he clicked his tongue in thought.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to it- A red hood type tattoo wouldn’t be so bad” Red hood finally spoke after a few moments, eyes directed at the grey ceiling as he finalised. After a few moments of silence once more and an almost repulsed glare sent in his direction, Todd finally met your eyes with a perplexed expression.

“ What? It’d be cool”

“ What if you no longer match the Red Hood? What If i stole your identity for a year or some shit” You joked, not opposing to the idea of stealing Todd’s signature get up for a day or two.

“ Then everyone will know the original Red Hood- plain and simple” Red Hood shrugged once more, your eyes narrowing more.

“ Maybe we could get matching tattoos? Doesn’t have to be large piece of any of that shit” You proposed, Jason’s brow raising in amusement.

“ I’m listening”

“ Each others symbols- if we have those, I’d do one of your chest plate on my thigh and you get a mirror” You began to explain, slowly becoming confident in your own ideas. For clarification, your symbol was a mirror because you usually adopted the signature moves of your opponents, but incorporated more agility in order to perfect them.

“ Alright then.”

“ Hey- hold my shirt up a little- and pull down my pants to just after you get to the pelvis bone” You ordered, now fully prepared with all your equipment. You decided to go for a black to red ombre in the symbol- in order to portray Jason’s coming of independence after death. All things considered though, your request and placing of your tattoo made things slightly tense.

“ You sure you want it there? I’d feel bad for anyone you fuck in future” Jason almost joked, now fastening a grip on the waistband of your pants, pulling them down just enough for you to place the pre-ink sketch you did right in the centre of your pelvis, just a little higher.

“ I wouldn’t worry about that If I were you” You began to concentrate, now preparing your black ink filled tattoo pen. Jason was intrigued by your ability to pierce and tattoo yourself. The only thing he ever did was his first lobes- in which he ended up having redone by you when he pussied out as a kid.

As the pen began to penetrate the skin; your facial expression hadn’t faltered drastically at all- in fact Jason noticed that any time you felt it hurt your determination only got stronger.

“ Wipe that for me- the excess ink”

“ Oh shit right- my bad”

“ You zoning out at the sight of me? Flattering”

“ Go fuck yourself”

“ Only if you watch” i

Now it was his turn, and because he was so sure on his high pain tolerance, he wanted it the exact place you had yours. However, just like Jason, you were distracted. His predominant v-line decorated in scars in some places almost made you completely forget the tattoo.

“ Red boxers? Wow Jason you truly live into the red hood legacy” You spoke in attempt to ice break, his eyes staring sultry daggers into the back of your skull.

“ Be grateful I’m even letting you see my boxers- let alone get your paws on em” Jason spoke back again, an almost nervousness lacing his voice as he observed you apply the guide line, the cool, smooth application calming him.

“ This might hurt- but not a lot alright- oh and could you keep your shirt away from the template- don’t want a fucked up tat now do we?” You requested, Jasons face almost disappointed as he was unable to grab his shirt; your supplies and sanitary equipment preoccupying his hands.

With a groan of annoyance, you took the end of his shirt and held it up to his mouth; allowing him to latch onto the fabric with his teeth. This was hot. Really fucking hot. Jason had a pretty good body for a dead motherfucker you had to admit.

Before any excess complaint, you flashed Todd a reassuring look, now beginning to glide the needle across his skin; the muscle a lot firmer than you believed it to be.

Just like you; Jason thought of the angle you were at to be almost alluring, the way your warm free hand rested on his right pelvis bone whilst the other marked his skin beautifully wasn’t even the best bit. It was your face, biting your lip in thought whilst flashing him inquisitive eyes in order to see how he was doing. If anything, Todd was more concerned about not having a boner rather than the needle poking at his flesh.

All was believed to be going well; the arousal you both harboured under control, the both of you mentally reminding yourselves that you both fight constantly and have shot each other at some point. However when you swiped at Jason’s v-line with a wipe in order to remove excess ink, a moan threatened to slip from his throat; the both of you now looking at each other sharply.

“ Fuck the line work”

“ Agreed”

With those words, you shot up from your position, his hand immediately gripping the back of your neck with just enough force to get you to smash your lips on his eagerly- you now straddling him before he dropped your equipment accidentally. He broke the kiss in order to apologise for it, however you didn’t seem to care, only mumbling into his lips.

“ I have another kit in my original apartment I swear it” You dismissed eagerly, now moving your hips up and down onto his lap as you reconnected your lips with his, Jason’s hands now gripping feverishly at your hips; adjusting the pace so there was enough friction for both of you to get off- or get started.

As the rhythm of hips chimed onto the couch, you bit down on your lip and looked Jason in the eye, your expression conveying serious enjoyment. You and him were well aware of this not just being a random hate-fuck, this was something you couldn’t run away from anytime soon. You had to lie in the graves you dug- but the both of you didn’t seem to care.

“ Lets wait to uncover this tattoo huh?” You spoke seductively, now zipping off your jacket and allowing Jason to remove his own attire before assisting you with removing your black deftones T-shirt. At the sight of each other- the both of you paused to analyse the bodies bestowed upon one another.

“ I’ve wanted to fuck you so bad- you have no idea” Jason admitted with a breathy moan, his head now leaning back so that his face was parallel to the ceiling, his Adams apple now more predominant.

“ When have you wanted to fuck me?” You asked out of genuine curiosity, slowing down the rhythm of your hips to make Jason more coherent.

“ The other day- when we were fighting” He breathed once more- his words coming out in pants as you encouraged him with ‘oh yeah?’s’ and ‘ mhm’s.

“ When we were fighting- and you tried to choke me out with your- your- fuck I can’t think” He now paused, the excitement of the situation now overwhelming him (in a good way). The thought of fucking you back as you fucked him almost made him cry out of anticipation.

With his almost plead, you stopped your hips, now guiding his hands to his lap so he could tell you.

“ when you tried to choke me out with your legs- that was hot” Jason now groaned, the sexual vulnerability he emitted depleting rapidly- now wanting to be the one who had the emotional high-ground.

“ Anytime else?” You paused, now leaning back so that you rested primarily on his thighs.

“ That time you threw yourself off that building”

“ You being serious?” You asked with furrowed brows, completely ignoring the fact that you were shirtless with only a pair of pants on, him also in the same attire. This was no longer about sex, this was about interest; and nothing fuelled your confidence more than being told how you make people feel.

“ It was the way you gave no fuck about falling into the water- it was pretty fucking cool” He returned to normal, now collecting the pieces of equipment dropped whilst you returned to your line work- almost finishing his tattoo.

“ Almost there Todd- surprised you didn’t cry about it”

“ I was beaten to death and then blown up- why would I bitch about a tattoo?”

“ Because you bitch about anyone”

A/n: If you’ve read this far I’m shocked. Also i’m loving the way i’m actually getting reblogged on here I love it. I might start doing more kory anders oneshots because she’s hot and my wife.

#red hood #ao3 #titans #dc fanfic #dc universe #dc comics #fanfic #smut

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evostrashbin · 3 years

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Any backstory or headcanons for your Kiran? It’s fun to hear the backstories of other summoners! Or if that’s too broad uh...why did she pick Grima? What do they have in common how did they learn to get along etc

Oho buckle up now this is about to get LONG since I had a few months to think about these kind of things 👀 (These are purely headcanons for my personal version of Kiran of course! Some of this might be a little dark so TW for abuse mention , please skip parts that make you feel uncomfortable! Also keep in mind I'm no native english speaker and haven't written anything long in ages )

Her backstory is nothing out of the ordinary, she's been summoned to Askr from our dimension & current time and was just a normal person before she became the summoner. She's pretty thrilled by her new role and takes her duty very serious (even if some of my art might suggest otherwise haha) and is absolutely fascinated by now being surrounded by magic, dragons and literal gods, things she normally only knew & loved from fairytales! Coming from an abusive family she not once looked back and never had the desire to return to her old realm and is happily living in Askr now. Her and Grima originally started out on a weird kind of fascination coming from both sides, with Kiran being completely unafraid of Grima the second she summoned him, he found that very odd since the usual reaction of people seeing him is fear, but Kiran was just... happy he showed up and not in a way of „Wow a powerful god I can use for his power“ but just genuine, foolish excitement. Considering he was the first evil dragon god she ever summoned she was just very intrigued by him, wanted to know more about him and why so many of other heroes were so afraid of him. So she made it her mission to get to know him a little better and make him feel welcome in his new home (But making sure to give him space if needed!). Grima was a little annoyed by that at first, asking her why she keeps pestering him but also just perplexed by her actively seeking out his company with seemingly no goal (at least none that made sense to him, why would anyone seek him out on their own if not to appease to him for his power to use it for their own selfish gain). Considering his distrust and straight up hatred towards humankind he's not exactly kind to her in the beginning since he suspects ulterior motives, but Kiran doesn't let that discourage her and she's not taking any of it. If anything it just makes her wonder why he despises humans so much (and yet has chosen a human vessel...) , why he's so full of hatred and since she's stubborn, she just keeps „pestering“ him. Though he would never admit it, he finds himself enjoying her company, this odd little human who doesn't fear him at all from a realm unlike anything he's ever known before and ends up slowly warming up to her (in his own way, means he's getting less insulting and starts having actual conversations with her, he finds himself very intrigued by the fact that neither dragons nor gods exist in her realm and so does magic and yet she's the one Breidablik has chosen to get that kind of power? Also Kiran has the patience of a saint even when Grima is testing that alot at times ) After a while they both start sharing bits of their pasts with each other (Imagine Grima still being kinda snarky, but in a less mean way haha. Also Grima being very much suprised at Kiran not abandoning him after learning about his past), and learn that they're not so different from each other in some ways, touching common ground in the experience of having had the ugliness of humanity having turned them repulsive and disappointed (Due to Kiran's almost life-long experience with physically and mentally abusive parents that were only interested in her as a resource, and not as a person and once she had no use or didn't obey their wishes, they just straight up told her everyone would be better off without her and that she should've never been born and essentially making her believe that everything wrong in the world is her fault & blaming her for it because she's just „ such a terrible child“ (just to keep it very short, we're not going to dive into the really ugly details) . They bond over having parental figures who treat their whole existance as a mistake as soon as they lost total control over it and people just constantly using them as a resource for their own gain. Basically trauma-bonding at its finest, both have seen and experienced some of the ugliest sides of humanity. This leads to Kiran now understanding where Grima's hatred comes from. (Though Grima genuinely asks himself how Kiran doesn't t hate all of humanity after her experiences...) With her newfound understanding she decides to show Grima that not all of humanity is ugly and selfish and cruel ( a lesson she had to learn herself for years and still sometimes struggles with, but she's determined to show Grima that there's people he can trust, even if it might just be her) and wants to give him a chance to start new in Askr and leave his past behind so even he might be able to find happiness. She's not striving to drastically change him though, she wants to help him cope with his experiences and give him a chance to live a somewhat normal life (as much as that's possible for someone as Grima) , following his longing to just be human. Grima in return might not openly show it, but he really appreciates her efforts in treating him with kindness and (mostly) like a normal person and not a lost cause beyond any redemption that's just 100% pure evil and never deserves anything good happening to them. So they slowly build a relationship on mutual trust, Kiran just likes him the way he is despite him not exactly being a good person (she's well aware he's flawed but so is she in the end and all the ‘ugly’ parts of him and his past are just a part of him) .It's... new and not unpleasant to him, having someone who wants him around who isn't just blindly worshipping him or staying out of fear. It's just a whole new experience for him that comes with having to deal with a whole lot of unknown emotions over time ;) That's what it boils down to to keep it short! Do not let yourself get deceived though, the only person Grima is kinda soft with is Kiran and pretty much exclusively when it's just the two of them since Grima does not want to have other people see him kinda vulnerable or think of him as weak, He'll still threaten to kill other people while calling Kiran his worm (in a loving way haha). Kiran herself also isn't just endless patience and kindness, she also likes to mess around at times with Grima and has her own struggles and flaws, if she'd ever get a fallen alt it would probably be a duo unit of her and Grima where she gives up believing into there being some good in the world and turns her back to it with Grima, giving in to despair and seeking to just destroy everything with him when all the bad things get too overwhelming. oh also some random headcanons for Kiran! -She's prone to overworking herself since she takes her work very serious, fell asleep in the library and the castle gardens more than once due to exhaustion, got to a point where even Grima scolded her for it to take more care of her health. -She's nocturnal so you'll find her wandering around the castle at weird times, often makes for nice and silent meetings with Grima just to talk when nobody else is around since he doesn't sleep alot. -She enjoys drawing as a hobby in Askr and keeps a sketchbook which she uses to make sketches and sometimes even studies of all kinds of heroes she finds interesting! She once made a detailled study of Grima's dragon form and gifted it to him on the day of devotion c:

#ask #dentos-wife #me actually taking my time to write something long??#never expected anyone to be interested in my personal and more specific headcanons though #I'm just a big sap #Kiran and Grima just mean alot to me in general #they're my emotional support broken people haha #also fiction is about having fun so I'm not taking things too serious who cares if Grima's a villain he deserves love too #idk. thinking about character dynamics and interactions is just alot of fun to me #especially if it's with more odd and morally questionable characters like Grima #don't mind my terrible writing I usually don't write at all haha #also please don't take any of this too seriously #it's just personal headcanons

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mintaka14 · 3 years

Link

with credit to @lineith for this stunning artwork https://lineith.tumblr.com/post/641420491909988352/smooching-the-best-friend-as-one-does-a-sketch which is what I was visualising for Marinette’s pink wrap (and how cute are those two!!)

And with thanks to the LBSC crowd.

Coryphée

A Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction

By Mintaka14

Chapter Two – Pas de Caractére

Marinette edged the door of the studio open on Monday morning for the company class, trying not to drop the bags and parcel she was juggling. She let out a startled squeak when a whirlwind of escaping curls and intense purpose enveloped her in an exuberant hug.

“Alya,” she protested. “Can you at least wait until I’ve put everything down?”

“Way to go, girl! You got the part!” Alya gave her a squeeze, and Marinette bobbled everything in her hands. One of the bags slid free and hit the floor. She handed the parcel to a dark-haired girl near the door before she could drop that too, and Mireille ripped it open with a cry of gratitude as a pair of ballet slippers spilled out.

“Marinette, you’re a lifesaver! It always comes apart when I try to sew anything”

“Well, they should hold now. I reinforced the ribbons, and your slippers will wear out before the binding does.”

“Never mind that. You got the Florine solo and Bluebird pas de deux with Adrien!” Alya continued as if she hadn’t been interrupted, following Marinette to the low benches at the side of the huge studio. “And you’re- ooh, is that a new one you made?” she asked, noticing Marinette’s soft pink wrap and the blossoms embroidered down the sleeves. “That’s pretty.”

Behind her, an unwelcome voice chimed in, “It’s such a cute colour.” Marinette turned to face Lila Rossi, and the Italian girl reached out to touch Marinette’s sleeve before she could react. “And those little flowers are just too adorable. You can hardly tell that it’s handmade from a distance. I would have loved something like that when I was ten, and it’s a shame I’m too old for it now, or I would have asked you to make me one too,” Lila said in honeyed tones, flicking her auburn hair back over her shoulder.

“Adrien!” Alya swept on, ignoring the tension. Marinette wasn’t even sure she’d noticed it. “You’re partnering with Adrien.”

“Yes, congratulations,” Lila said, the sugar in her smile cut with acid. “I do hope it’s not going to be awkward for you, working with Adrien like that. Still, maybe he’s forgotten all about it by now.”

The room was filling up with chatter and the thwack of someone beating their pointe shoes into shape.

“It must be so hard, being partnered with the guy you have a crush on who turned you down like that,” Lila sympathised, and Marinette gritted her teeth.

“I’m over it.”

“Of course you are.” Lila patted her hand. “It’s just, there’s no shame in it if you feel like it’s too much. I know we’d all understand if you decided to step aside this season.”

Marinette took a deep, calming breath, and said, “Thank you, Lila, but I’ll be fine.”

“Of course she’ll be fine,” Alya struck in. “She’ll be better than fine. This is your chance to get Adrien to notice you,” she told Marinette in an excited stage whisper.

Marinette sighed, and slipped free to take a place at the barre. Above them, the enormous ring of lights threw shadows across the massive steel ribs of the dome that curved overhead, and the mirrors reflected dancers stretching, and stripping off thick socks and warm leggings, and pinning wayward hair back into place.

“He turned me down, remember?”

“But that was three years ago. You’ve barely dated anyone since then, and I know for a fact that none of those guys lasted beyond the third date. So if you’re not still hung up on Adrien, then what is it?”

And Marinette froze. The only thing she could think of worse than Alya thinking that she was still pining after Adrien was Alya finding out about Luka and how she felt about him. The schemes. The plots. The helping.

“I knew it!” Alya said triumphantly as Marinette remained silent. “You’re still into Adrien. So now’s your chance, girl! He’s had plenty of time to work out what he’s missing out on, and all that time rehearsing together, the rush of performing together, his hands all over you…” the other girl wiggled her eyebrows lasciviously, and Marinette groaned.

“Alya, I don’t-“

“Mlle Dupain-Cheng, Mlle Cesaire,” their instructor’s voice snapped from the door of the studio. “When you are quite finished gossiping, we are waiting on you to begin.”

“Yes, Madame,” Marinette whispered, and Alya suppressed a giggle, taking her place at the barre behind Marinette.

Fortunately, with Madame’s eyes on them and class to focus on, Alya wasn’t able to say anything more. Marinette had been friends with Alya since they’d both joined the Opera Ballet School, and Alya had been there through her searing crush on Adrien, helping her to come up with ways to get his attention. The possibility of a season and her first serious role fraught with romantic plans and schemes and plots filled Marinette with a sinking sense of dread.

As class finished, there was a general scramble for water bottles, and the occasional groan of someone peeling satin and nylon off the blisters on their feet. The floor was littered with dancers sprawled in ungainly positions of collapse as they took advantage of the brief break.

“Principals, solos,” the ballet mistress said in a commanding voice that carried over the bustle of a roomful of dancers all grabbing a quick snack and chattering like a tree full of birds. “Fifteen minutes, and then I need you in the studios downstairs. Ladies and gentlemen of the corps, I expect you back here promptly at twelve to begin choreography. We have a lot of work to do.”

Marinette got slowly to her feet, and Alya caught Marinette’s hand as she passed, giving her an unsubtle wink and a tilt of the head towards where Adrien was talking to Puss in Boots and one of the princes. He lifted his head just then, and met her eyes for a discomfited moment before he looked away quickly. Marinette just sighed and scooped up her bag, heading for the door.

As the soloists made their way into the smaller studio downstairs, Madame Viret turned a stern look on them.

“We have a lot of hard work ahead of us. Make sure you check your rehearsal schedule every morning, because it will change with little notice and I will not accept that as an excuse to not be here when we need you. Aurora, Prince Florimund, you’ll be next door today with the director,” she said, turning to the principals. “If you’re one of the soloists for the christening scene, join Master Novgorodsky. Everyone else, if you’re involved in the wedding in Act Three I want you here. Now, we begin.”

Madame gestured sharply to the fairies to take their place in the centre of the floor as she began to outline the choreography of the pas de quatre to them. Adrien made his way around the edge of the studio until he was standing next to Marinette. There was something a little hesitant about the smile he gave her.

“Hey, Marinette,” he said in a hushed voice. “It’s been a while since we … talked.”

It had been three years of awkwardly avoiding each other in an environment where you really had to go to some effort to not talk to someone.

“It’s been a while,” Marinette agreed quietly. Adrien shuffled his feet.

“I wanted to… I hope… it’s not going to be a problem, dancing with me… I mean…”

Marinette turned to face him. “It’s fine, Adrien. It was a long time ago, and all forgotten now, if you can forgive me for putting you on the spot like that.” She gave an involuntary giggle. “And look! I can actually string two sentences together now. I think that’s a sign that I’ve moved on.”

Adrien chuckled, and the tension drained out of him. “Yeah, I didn’t have any clue that you even liked me until you asked me out.” He stiffened again, as if realising that he might have put his foot in it, but Marinette just gave him a tiny smile.

“I’m looking forward to partnering with you,” she said, and then Madame turned to glare at them so they subsided into silence until she called for the Bluebird and Princess Florine.

Marinette didn’t have time for any of her doubts, or for worrying about Adrien, over the next half an hour as Madame Viret walked them through an outline of the choreography that she wanted from them.

It was exhausting, but it went easier than Marinette had expected. When Madame directed her into a passé, she found Adrien exactly where she needed him to be for the pirouette en dehors that followed, anchoring her turn, and Marinette felt some of the last remaining tension fade away. Maybe this partnership could work. He certainly seemed to be good at reading what she was going to do, and his technique was solid, she knew. They could be professional.

“Let me see the bluebird lift,” Madame commanded, and Marinette waited just long enough to make sure that Adrien was ready before she threw herself fearlessly into the lift and felt him sweep her up. Her hips landed across his shoulder, exactly where they were meant to be, and her back arched as her arms fluttered upwards with elegant precision.

She was vaguely aware of Madame’s rare and sharp “Good!” and the satisfaction of a difficult move achieved, then she felt the minute shift of Adrien’s posture, and she rolled gracefully with the movement as his hands guided her down and set her on the floor again.

“Lovely, Marinette,” Madame conceded. “An excellent beginning. Adrien, make sure you rotate and lock your arm more.”

She moved on, and Marinette gave her new partner a brilliant smile. This could really work.

Adrien was staring back at her with wide green eyes and a slightly dazed look on his face, and then he beamed back with that perfect smile that had started her crush in the first place.

“Wow, Marinette,” he said. “I knew you were good, but that was amazing! I’ve never had a partner who mastered a lift like that first time before. We make a great team.”

~~~~~

“So, how did the first day go? Didn’t get dropped on your head?” Luka asked as the stage doors closed behind Marinette. He’d been leaning against the wall next to his violin case, a hoodie tied around his waist and his black painted nails drumming against his torn denim jeans in time to some tune in his head, but he looked up as she came towards him and smiled, and Marinette’s heart gave a familiar stutter. Luka scooped up his violin and they fell into step together, heading towards the metro.

Marinette shook her head, and grinned up at him. “Adrien was actually a pretty good partner. It was exhausting, but so far so good. On the other hand, I think Lila’s been trying to spread rumours that I must have slept with someone to get this part.”

“What?”

She laughed. “It’d be funny if it wasn’t so ridiculous. Have you met any of the people involved in the casting decisions?”

She looked up, and Luka was frowning a little, lost in some thought that didn’t seem to appeal to him. As soon as he noticed her watching him he gave a wry half-smile.

“She sounds like a real piece of work,” he said, and Marinette gave a snort of laughter.

“Is she any good?” Luka asked. “I’ve never seen her perform.”

“Ye-s,” she admitted slowly. “She wouldn’t be in the Opera Ballet Company if she wasn’t, but– “ Marinette scrunched up her nose, trying to work out how to put it into words. “There are things you need if you’re going to make it in ballet, especially if you want to become an étoile one day. You need the body for it, you need to have the heart to work at it and give your all to it, and you need to be tough enough to push on, no matter how many Lilas try to stop you.”

There was a soft snort of laughter from beside her.

“And Lila has all those things,” Marinette went on. “But something I read once said that a dancer’s mind is the thing that make the difference, and that’s why Lila’s never going to quite make it. She doesn’t have nice thoughts. There’s a hardness in her dancing that’s going to get in her way and stop her from reaching the top, no matter how much she schemes,” she summed up with an incisive sniff.

Luka was giving her that warm smile that she loved so much.

“Then you must have the most beautiful thoughts in the world,” he told her. “I always love watching you dance. There’s an absolute grace in you that can’t help but inspire the music in me. You make me think of warm blue skies and perfect mornings, and I can see that in everything you do, not just your dancing. I can see that creativity and passion and grace that you bring to everything you care about.”

Marinette suddenly felt as if he’d stolen the air from her lungs.

“Luka!” she protested faintly, and his smile grew wider.

She was almost relieved that they’d reached the bakery as the fire in her cheeks threatened to overwhelm her. At the door of the bakery, Marinette asked, “Are you coming in for dinner?” but Luka shook his head.

“I need to get home, but I’ll swing by to pick you up in the morning if you want the company. What time do you have to be at the Garnier?”

“I’ve got class at ten, but I thought you didn’t have to be there til after lunch?”

Luka just gave a shrug and leaned down to drop a friendly kiss on her forehead.

“I’ll be here at quarter past nine,” he told her, and lifted his hand in a wave as he strode away.

The next morning, Marinette was still up on her balcony with the remains of her breakfast on the little table behind her when she heard a musical whistle drift up from the street below. She broke off the stretch that she had started, and leaned out between the pots of geraniums along the balcony railing as Luka waved up at her. He slung his violin case over his shoulder and gave her a warm smile.

“Ready to escape from your tower, Princess Florine?”

“Should I try and fly down?” she called back to him, and his smile grew wider.

“I’ll catch you if you want to try.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so. I’ll be down in a minute.” She hurried down through her bedroom, snatching up her bag and the lunch that her mother had left for her on the way. The cafeteria food was alright in a pinch, but it couldn’t beat her mother’s cooking.

Luka was waiting for her on the street, and they fell into step on the way to the station. For once, the commute to the Palais Garnier felt too short, and Marinette let out a faint sigh as the building loomed into view. They’d just reached the stage doors, and Luka was holding one open for her when a voice hailed her from the other side of the courtyard.

“Marinette!” Adrien called, loping towards them eagerly. He was every girl’s dream, with his charming smile and dancer’s lean body, and there was a time when Marinette would have been reduced to a babbling mess by his attention. Luka shot the blond boy an enigmatic look, but didn’t say anything.

“I was hoping to catch up with you.” He finally seemed to notice Luka. “Oh, hi. I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“It’s all good,” Luka said imperturbably, waiting until Adrien had joined them inside before he let the door swing closed. “It’s Adrien, isn’t it? Marinette’s talked about you. She said you were partnering her this season.”

Adrien’s smile was warm. “Yeah, I’m very lucky,” he said sincerely. “She’s an incredible dancer.”

Luka’s smile was a little harder to read. “She is. She also plays a mean game of Ultimate Mecha Strike.”

Adrien blinked at him in confusion. They reached the staircase leading up to the studios, and Luka stopped, tilting his head towards the corridor that ran underneath it.

“I’m heading this way. Nice to meet you, Adrien.” His gaze settled on Marinette for a moment. “See you later, Marinette.”

Before Marinette could protest, he’d already turned and was striding away, his head bent and lost in some thought or strain of music.

Adrien was watching Luka with a tiny frown that looked odd on his normally sunny features.

“Was that your boyfriend?”

There had never been much chance of that. Once upon a time, when she was barely fourteen and he was a romantic, sensitive sixteen year old, he’d sort-of confessed to her … you’re as clear as a music note, as sincere as a melody, you’re the song in my head… She’d been overwhelmed, and she’d panicked, but once she’d been ready to face Luka again he’d never said anything since to suggest that it had been anything more than a fleeting moment of poetry. He’d dated other people over the years, and she’d had her brief relationships, and he’d never changed the way he treated her. Marinette suspected that Luka had completely forgotten he’d ever said those beautiful things to her, although that was when he’d started calling her melody.

“No,” Marinette said, suppressing a small sigh. “Luka and I have been friends since we were little, Luka’s sister too. I was at school with Juleka before I got into the Opera Ballet School. Luka’s at the Conservatory, and he plays with the Company orchestra from time to time.”

Adrien’s eyebrow lifted at that. “Impressive. Maybe that’s where I know him from.”

They climbed another floor in silence, but Marinette was aware of Adrien shooting glances at her. He seemd to be almost jittering with a nervous energy now that was making her nervous in turn.

“A friend of mine is having a party on Saturday. You should come,” he said abruptly, and Marinette stumbled on the steps, catching herself on the stair rail. What was going on here? He gave her that charming, hopeful smile of his. “It’d be fun, and it’d be nice to get to spend a bit of time together away from the studio. Get to know each other, seeing we’re going to be working together.”

“I… have plans…” she said uncertainly.

“It’s at Le Grand Paris,” he coaxed, and that smile grew brighter. “Just come for a little while. You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to.”

They were at the door of the studio, and suddenly it seemed like everyone was looking at her.

“Saturday,” he repeated, as she tried to find her voice under the weight of all those stares. She made a strangled noise, her shoulders curling in embarrassment. She could see Lila glaring daggers at her, and Alya’s cheshire grin.

“I can’t,” she sputtered at his back as he walked away.

She wasn’t wasting a precious Saturday night on a party full of strangers at the Grand Paris hotel, no matter how bright Adrien’s smile was, and Saturday found her curled up on Juleka’s bed while Juleka frowned and carefully painted pink spots onto Marinette’s nails and Luka ran through a quick set of scales on his violin in the background. Marinette watched as Luka shook out his hand and resettled the chin rest.

“Soooo… Adrien, huh?” Juleka drawled.

“Hmm?” Marinette said absently.

“Adrien,” Juleka repeated, shooting a look at her brother. Luka must have told her about meeting Adrien at the Garnier, and Juleka didn’t sound thrilled about it, but then she’d endured enough gushing paeans all those years ago in praise of Adrien’s smile, his hair, his kindness, his smile, his perfect arabesque, his smile… Marinette buried her face in her hands and groaned.

“Careful!” Juleka yanked her still wet hand down. “I don’t want to have to do that all over again.”

“That was years ago,” Marinette whined. “And he turned me down.”

“Are you going to try and change his mind, now that you’re partners?” Juleka pushed.

“No!” Marinette flashed a quick glance at Luka as he frowned and adjusted one of the tuning pegs, and she glared at Juleka, holding her friend’s gaze in a silent message. “And you know why.”

Juleka rolled her eyes, but mercifully didn’t say anything further.

Marinette didn’t think that Luka had been paying attention to them, but later when Juleka left the room to answer Rose’s call he paused in the middle of the adagio he’d been playing and said quietly, “You know she’d come round if you got together with Adrien, don’t you?”

“There’s nothing to come around to,” Marinette grumbled. Luka was watching her with those too knowing blue eyes, and she wondered what he was seeing in her face. When she shifted uncomfortably, he dropped his gaze to the violin in his hands.

But he didn’t say anything further about Adrien when he walked her home much later, and he was there at the bakery door on Monday morning when she left for the Garnier, with a smile for her and a proffered earbud as they walked.

Class was gruelling that day, and Marinette didn’t have much time or energy left to worry about what Luka had seen. As soon as class finished, she stretched her aching muscles out on the wooden floor with a groan, and closed her eyes. Out in the hallway, Marinette could hear the noise of approaching voices and laughter, but she didn’t open her eyes until a familiar deep voice said just above her, “Hey there, Princess Florine. They’re working you hard, I see.”

Her eyes flew open to look up into Luka’s amused gaze and warm smile, and she sat up in a hurry, scrambling to her feet. His hands steadied her as she threw her arms around him.

“Luka! What are you doing here?”

“There’s a welcome.” He wasn’t the only musician who had found their way into the studio, and a few of the ballet dancers who were dating members of the company orchestra were busy with very public displays of affection.

“I might think you’re not happy to see me,” Luka teased.

Marinette pulled back to stick her tongue out at him, and found Alya at her elbow, eyeing Luka with interest.

“I didn’t know you knew one of the musicians. Marinette, why didn’t you tell me about your gorgeous friend here?”

Marinette closed her eyes, willing herself anywhere but there. When she opened them again, Alya was watching her with raised eyebrows and a knowing smile. And that was exactly the reason that Marinette had never really talked about her friendships outside the company. On the other side of the studio, Lila’s attention was fixed on them in a way that made Marinette uneasy. Alya held out a hand to Luka.

“I’m Alya, and you’re cute. Tell me everything.”

When Marinette dared to sneak a glance at Luka, he was looking rather startled and amused.

“There’s not a lot to tell,” he said slowly. “But I’m guessing you’re Alya.”

“Interesting. Marinette’s told you about me, but I haven’t heard a thing about you.” Alya’s expression turned speculative. “Now, why would that be?”

“Because I wanted to save him from getting grilled by you,” Marinette muttered.

“Because I know all Marinette’s secrets,” Luka said, and Marinette gasped.

“Traitor! You wouldn’t!”

His amusement became a grin as he looked down at her. “For half a dozen raspberry macarons, my lips are sealed.”

“Fine,” Marinette pouted. “You do know that Maman would have given you as many as you wanted, don’t you?”

“Sure, but blackmail macarons taste so much better.”

Alya’s gaze shifted rapidly between them, taking it all in. “So I take it you’ve known each other a while?” she inquired brightly.

“It’s been a while,” Luka admitted. He deflected the questions Alya kept firing at him with calm good nature. Her interrogation was drawing attention from some of the company, and Marinette felt her stomach sink as Lila sauntered towards them. The Italian girl hooked a hand through Marinette’s arm and her eyes ran over Luka, taking in the teal blue hair, the piercings, and the ink.

“That’s a lot of tattoos,” she said with a barely suppressed sneer at odds with her honeyed tone, and Luka’s eyebrow rose, but he stayed silent. She dismissed him to focus on Marinette. “I didn’t know you were into the bad boy type, Marinette.”

Marinette prised herself free of Lila’s grip. “What’s that supposed to mean, Lila? Are you saying that Luka’s a troublemaker because he happens to have some body art?”

“And I’ve been trying so hard to be good,” Luka sighed.

“Honey, you’re better than good,” Alya teased, eyeing him up and down. “I don’t know about Marinette, but I love a guy with tatts.”

“Oh, no! Of course, I didn’t mean anything of the sort!” Lila gasped, grabbing at Marinette’s arm again. “I’m so sorry if I’ve upset you.”

“I’ve always wanted to get a tattoo. Does it hurt?” Alya asked Luka. Her attention was on Luka’s arms. “Why an anchor? It seems a bit out of character for a musician.”

Luka glanced down at the tattoo on his left forearm of an anchor surrounded by tulips and roses. “Well, Ma’s a pirate, so it seemed appropriate,” he said composedly, but Alya had already moved on.

“Nice snake,” Alya said, poking at the teal snake coiling down around his right bicep from under the sleeve of his tshirt to his forearm. It seemed to have a glint of amused sagacity in its eye rather than menace, and her own eyes lit up with a leer that made Marinette nervous. “Is it proportional?”

“Alya,” Marinette groaned in dismay, but Luka seemed entertained rather than put out by Alya’s blatant suggestiveness, and Alya’s attention shifted to the tattoo just under the snake’s nose, where it seemed to be reaching out to touch a tiny ladybug sitting on a branch of cherry blossoms that was almost hidden by the wide leather cuff that Luka wore around his right wrist.

“The ladybug’s a bit of an odd one out,” Alya commented.

He’d got that ink at the same time that Marinette had had her birthday tattoo done.

“That one’s just for a bit of luck,” he said casually, and Lila’s eyes narrowed at the quick smile he gave Marinette.

“You two make such a cute couple,” she said, hugging Marinette’s arm tighter. “Why didn’t you tell us you were seeing someone in the orchestra?”

Luka said nothing, but his gaze slid sideways to Marinette as she said stiffly, “Because we’re not a couple.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know. I do hope I haven’t put my foot in it.” Lila pulled her hand away from Marinette’s arm in a show of hurried embarrassment, her eyes wide with distress. “You seem very close, but I’m sure he’s just a friend, if you say so.”

Luka’s eyebrows climbed at that, but Marinette didn’t grasp the significance of the vindictive little smile that Lila shot at her as she walked away until Adrien came up beside her, his brow creased as he glanced around the group and settled on Luka.

“How’s it going, Marinette?” he asked softly, and gave Luka a stiff nod. “Luka. What brings you here? Not that it’s not good to meet you again,” he trailed off awkwardly. It was not uncommon for the orchestra to socialise with the ballet, and Marinette didn’t understand why Adrien seemed to be discomfited by Luka’s appearance in the studio.

“Just checking in on my favourite dancer,” Luka said with an unreadable smile.

Alya found a new target, swivelling to fix Adrien with a stare. “You know Luka?”

“We’ve met,” Adrien said tersely. His glance fell on Lila on the other side of the studio, then it shifted from Luka to Marinette and back again, and Marinette frowned.

“Now, this is interesting,” Alya said.

“Alya,” Marinette growled, and her friend threw up her hands.

“Fine, fine, I won’t ask.”

“Director’s coming,” someone called near the door, and the musicians started to scatter. “Couffaine, you coming?”

Luka quirked a smile at Marinette.

“Looks like they’re kicking the riffraff out. See you after rehearsal?” he asked her, and Marinette nodded. He tipped his head to Alya and Adrien. “Alya, it’s been a pleasure. Adrien.”

“For a musician, he’s got some nice muscles on him,” Alya said approvingly, and Marinette cringed at Luka’s choke of laughter as he headed out of the studio. She was limply grateful that Luka was out of earshot and that Adrien had moved away before Alya added, “Girl, is that the reason you’ve been so chill around Adrien lately?”

“What? No!” Marinette stuttered, and the words I wish cut through her like a knife. She took a deep breath, and tried to smile at Alya. “We’re just friends.”

Alya’s eyebrows lifted.

“Seriously, I’m more like a younger sister to Luka,” Marinette insisted.

“If you say so,” her friend said sceptically.

When Madame Viret called her and Adrien away for their pas de deux rehearsal it didn’t go nearly as smoothly as things had gone on the first day. Adrien seemed distracted, and several times he missed Marinette’s cues until Madame called a halt.

“Adrien,” the ballet mistress snapped, “your head needs to be here with us, or one of you is going to end up injured.”

The blond muttered an apology, but he was still frowning as Marinette took his hand and rested her other hand on his shoulder for the attitude promenade.

“Is everything alright?” she whispered to him.

“You didn’t come to the party on Saturday.”

“I’d told you I wouldn’t be there,” Marinette muttered back as she executed a balance. “I had plans.”

“What about this Saturday?” Adrien asked a little too loudly, and subsided as Madame turned an icy glare on them. As soon as Madame waved a hand for a break, he dropped down beside Marinette as she collapsed and reached for her water bottle.

“Maybe we could get coffee sometime. Or dinner. I’d love to take you out to dinner, if you’re free.”

Marinette took a deep drink, playing for time, and choked a little.

“This Saturday? Or Sunday? I know a great little place not far from here that I just know you’d love.”

“Adrien, that’s sweet,” she said uneasily, “but I don’t think I can.”

His head tilted towards her as if he was trying to translate what she was saying.

“I mean, it’s probably not a good idea to date someone else from the company, is it?” she tried again. “It always just seems to cause trouble.”

“But it doesn’t have to,” Adrien said hopefully. “Just give us a try. Saturday.”

“Adrien, I can’t!”

“Is there someone else?” he asked her. “Is it that musician friend of yours, the one with the blue hair?”

Oh, how she wished she could say yes. She closed her eyes for a moment, picturing ocean deep eyes that could see right through her and a slow, sweet smile, and opened them again to hopeful green eyes and a sun-bright grin.

“No,” she said reluctantly, and repeated yet again, “we’re just friends.”

Adrien’s smile grew wider in relief. “Look, just think about it. You don’t have to give me an answer now. Just… give it a chance.”

He got to his feet as Madame called for them, and held out his hand to her. Marinette took it, and put aside overthinking her complicated emotional state to let her training and the movement take over. It was a relief to let it all go for a little while.

She was half-braced for Adrien to ask her again the next morning when she arrived at the Garnier, but there was no sign of the blond dancer. She had finished pilates and had started warm up stretches for class before Adrien finally arrived, breathing a little hard as if he’d been rushing to get there. Alya was telling her something about something she’d overheard that morning.

“Cutting it close, Agreste!” someone called out, and Adrien gave a sheepish grin.

“I got held up this morning because I came in with my father. He wanted to deliver the costume designs in person.”

Marinette’s head whipped around, cutting off what Alya had been saying to her.

“The designs are here?” she asked abruptly.

“My father’s meeting with Madame Marchand right now to hand them over,” he confirmed.

Master Novgorodsky rapped on the piano for their attention, and by sheer force of will Marinette focused on the choreography. It could not have been said that she was at her best that morning, and several times, Master Novgorodsky called her wandering thoughts back to the placement of her feet and arms. The minute that class broke, she took off for the corridors that led up to the wardrobe ateliers.

Through the long windows of the millinery department rows and rows of blank heads stared down from the shelves, and sat on the work benches surrounded by tools and tufts of hair. Next to it, the decoration atelier twinkled and sparkled like Aladdin’s cave with tubs and jars of sequins and glass jewels, and streaks of paint everywhere. Another mannequin head supported the beginnings of a glittering headpiece, and a huge rat’s head wearing a crown from a past production of The Nutcracker stared down from the top of a cabinet.

A few craftspeople glanced up from their work as Marinette hurried past their ateliers and smiled at her, and Marinette waved, but didn’t stop to chat. Costume storage was just beyond, and at the door Marinette drew a deep breath as she always did, letting it out slowly. The racks of costumes and rolls of fabric, and the tutus carefully layered in snowy drifts, never failed to calm her. The head seamstress frowning over a gown spread out on the benchtop looked up to smile at Marinette as she came in.

“Marinette! What brings you up here?” the woman asked.

“I heard that the Sleeping Beauty designs from Gabriel had arrived,” Marinette said hopefully, and the seamstress laughed.

“I should have known you’d be showing up the moment you got wind of that. No one’s supposed to see them before first fittings.” But she was already heading into the back recesses of the costume storage, and Marinette followed.

She took the book that the head seamstress handed her with great reverence, and settled herself into a chair. It wasn’t long before she’d lost herself completely in the exquisite designs and the notes that Gabriel Agreste had included for them. The seamstress laughed, and left her to it.

When her feet eventually started to prickle with pins and needles, she realised with a start that she’d been sitting there, poring over the design book for far too long and that afternoon rehearsals would be starting soon. Hastily she closed the book and handed it back to the head seamstress, babbling her thanks as she hurried out the door. She made it into the studio just ahead of Madame Viret, and Adrien gave her a curious look.

“Where were you? You disappeared before I could ask you if you wanted to have lunch with me,” he whispered.

“Oh, Adrien, your father’s work is incredible,” Marinette enthused, and Adrien’s eyebrow rose.

“So that’s where you’ve been? Up in wardrobe? I thought we weren’t allowed up there without an invitation from the costume director.”

Marinette grimaced guiltily. “They don’t mind, and I really wanted to have a look.”

“Oh, you’re so into costumes and sewing, aren’t you Marinette, with all your little projects,” Lila interrupted, and gave a tinkling little laugh. “It’s so lucky your partner is the son of Gabriel Agreste. You might get to meet him, and all his contacts in the industry.”

“What’s that supposed to mean, Lila?” Marinette asked angrily, and right on cue, there went the hand flutter and the wide eyes.

“Oh! I’m so sorry, I never meant to imply that you were only interested in Adrien because his father is Gabriel Agreste.”

“You’re a fan of my father’s?” Adrien asked with a puckered brow, and Marinette saw Lila’s flash of triumph.

“I admire his work,” she admitted evenly. Adrien’s face lit up in a beaming smile.

“Then you should come to the Gabriel gala on Saturday,” he invited her. Marinette was distracted from what he was saying by the look of livid fury that swept over Lila’s face.

“It’d be a lot more fun than going on my own,” he was saying, “and I’d love you to meet my father. I’ve told him a lot about my brilliant pas de deux partner.” He noticed her reluctant expression, and said, “Just as friends. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

“I’ll… think about it. Just as friends.”

She and Luka were halfway home that night, and Luka was smiling softly at her raptures about the costume designs, before she worked up the courage to mention Adrien’s invitation.

“Adrien asked me to the Gabriel fashion gala next week,” Marinette told the footpath in front of her, and there was a long silence from Luka beside her.

Then he said nonchalantly, “Are you going to go? Adrien seems like a nice guy, and you’d probably have fun.”

It shouldn’t have hurt that he was so casual about the idea of her going out with another guy.

“You really think I should say yes?” she asked him in a small voice.

“It might be fun, seeing all Gabriel’s latest designs and getting to hang out around the fashion houses. And there was a time when you would have flipped for a chance to spend time with Adrien,” he teased gently.

Why did it feel like she was paying for that now?

“Maybe,” she said, feeling her spirits sinking even lower.

When Adrien asked her again the next day, she said yes, and had to admit afterwards that she’d enjoyed herself. The new season’s couture was dazzling, and Adrien was good company, getting her laughing over his awful puns and startlingly accurate impersonations of some of the celebrities there. And if Gabriel Agreste had been seven kinds of cold and austere when Adrien had introduced her to his father, he had defrosted enough to offer a trifling compliment on the dress she’d made herself. Marinette had found it hard to martial a coherent sentence in response, and Adrien had teased her about it afterwards.

She was still a little startled, though, in company class the next morning when Adrien presented her with a rose and a flourish. What had happened to ‘just friends’?

“Adrien…” She took the rose reluctantly, very aware of the curious eyes on them, and Lila’s dagger-sharp attention.

“I just wanted to say thank you for the best time I’ve ever had at a fashion gala, milady,” Adrien said. His smile brightened like the sun. “You made the whole evening worthwhile.”

“So you two are a couple now?” Lila asked, and Marinette could hear the ominous note in her voice. Adrien obviously didn’t. He threw his arm around Marinette.

“Not yet, but I’m wearing her down,” he said, and Lila’s eyes narrowed sharply.

“How sweet.”

Marinette slipped out from under Adrien’s arm, backing away.

“I have to- I have, a thing. I’ll see you later.” She whirled around and almost ran from the studio, the rose still in her hand. Once she’d reached the outer courtyard she let out a muffled scream that drew a few startled glances.

“Very clever,” Lila’s voice said behind her, and Marinette whipped around. “You may think you’ve won, but Adrien is so out of your league it isn’t funny, and he’s going to realise that before long.”

“I’m not interested in Adrien!” Marinette cried, frustrated, and Lila gave her a pitying stare.

“Oh, sweetie, you’re not fooling anyone. We all know just how desperate you were to get Adrien all those years ago. Throwing yourself at him didn’t work, so you’re trying playing hard to get now, and it might have got you an invitation to the gala but it’s just sad. And I’m going to make sure that Adrien sees just how sad and desperate you are.”

Lila made a move towards her, and Marinette jerked back out of reach before Lila could touch her arm. Somehow, the rose that Adrien had given her ended up on the ground, and Lila crushed it under her foot with one quick step.

“Oopsie,” the Italian girl said with false regret and bright eyes, and Marinette watched her turn and strut away.

Marinette still cringed at some of the things that she’d done to try and get Adrien’s attention when she was seventeen and deep in the throes of her infatuation. Egged on by Alya she’d even committed a few minor felonies, and now she was paying the price for it. Everyone seemed to be taking it for granted that she was in love with Adrien Agreste, and the more she protested against it, the less convincing she sounded.

“For all the stupid things I did when I had that crush,” she told the sky, “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, okay?”

#Lukanette #ml ballet au #Lukanette endgame #they're idiots your honor

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tae-cup · 4 years

Text

Down With The Ship | FINALE

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Female!Reader

Summary: Captain Jeon Jungkook; a beautiful mess of blood and gold. His greatest treasure, may also be his greatest downfall.

Genre: Pirate!au

Warnings: Angst, some fluffy stuff, panic attacks, blood

Rating: T for Teens

A/N: Alexa, play Roslyn by Bon Iver and St. Vincent. aaaaaaand that’s a wrap! I’m honestly in love with this series and kind of want to make some spin offs, but I need to focus on like...my big series now XD

Thanks for sticking around!

Word Count: 8k Words

Other: Masterlist

Up with your turret Aren't we just terrified? Shale, screen your worry From what you won't ever find

Him had a face. Him had a name. Eun-kyung haunted your dreams. The deep blue of his irises visited you at night and his soft hands touched your waist, your arms, and legs. The most innocent of touches giving you the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach.

You were broken out of your trance by a hand waving in front of your face. You blinked, startled.

“Oh, sorry.” You murmured, brushing back a strand of hair as you met the gaze of the frowning captain.

“Are you sick? Tired?” The genuine concern that tinged his voice was new to you.

You smiled softly and shook your head, turning back to sketching out the map before you. It was so nice above deck where you and Jungkook sat on the planks. He dictated anything interesting he saw and you sketched the coastline.

“I’m alright, Jungk-Captain.”

He paused, looking at you for a moment. Then he turned back to observing the land mass ahead. “You can call me Jungkook. I don’t mind.”

His words made you smile a little and you didn’t know how his heart quickened when you smiled.

“I see a large mountain in the distance. It seems to be of cold climate.”

“That explains the wind.” You rubbed at the pinkened end of your nose. He noticed you shivering and, in an action that surprised both you and him, he shrugged off his coat and handed it to you.

“Stay warm, Y/N. And head inside soon before you catch a cold.” He then wandered back below deck without another word.

You liked the way your name rolled off his tongue. His mouth moved around it harshly, like a command, while Eun-kyung always spoke it like a soft prayer on his lips. The callous nature of the man did not surprise you, he was a pirate after all and Eun-kyung had simply been your guard. But he was so much more than that. If Eun-kyung was the sturdy land, Jungkook was the crashing sea. And you had always loved the sea more than the land.

You stood at the side, biting your lip in concentration. The murky water below reminded you of the day you walked the plank almost a year ago. It had been terrifying and calming at the time, but now it just gave you fond memories. You still weren’t allowed off the boat since you were a wanted woman. The thought sent you back to the weight that had been hanging on your shoulders. Were they still looking for you? Was Haneul getting closer? Every day it felt like you could turn a corner and he would be right there.

You gripped the pen tighter as you traced the coast. The air was chill and your ears were freezing, but Jungkook’s coat was wrapped tightly around you, the sleeves rolled up to keep from dragging on the page. You hummed a little to yourself, just admiring the sights before you.

It was odd how the ocean, so vast and oppressive at times, could fill you with such joy. The emptiness of the sea, no soul within miles, would put a normal person on edge, but when you loved the salt in the air as much as the crew of BTS, the loneliness didn’t seem all that bad.

Jungkook was on his daily rounds to make sure people were on task. He checked in on Jin who was cooking lunch. The older man quickly shooed him out of the kitchen, waving a wooden spoon as the captain shouted his protests.

Then he visited Namjoon, his trusty second, but he was busy reading a book. When he had entered the man’s cabin, he had simply peered up at him unamused and went back to reading. Who knew the captain of his own ship could be so easily rejected by his crewmates? He didn’t even bother with Yoongi, fully knowing the man was asleep.

Surely Jimin will need my help with something? So he went to visit the blonde haired man. But he was busy cleaning and claimed he didn’t need the help. Hoseok was quite obviously steering the ship and Jungkook didn’t really need to help there. So he ended up standing beside you, thoroughly tired of his crew.

“It’s like every time I try to do something nice for my crewmates, the universe rejects me.” He sighed, feeling a little more melancholic than usual.

It was nearing the anniversary of the mutiny and though the blood was long washed away, he didn’t really want to spend it on the boat. You made a noise of acknowledgement, still focused on your drawing.

“Words would be nice, little miss.”

You rolled your eyes at the nickname, but smiled nonetheless. “Oh boo hoo. No one wants to babysit the captain.” You turned to face him, a smirk on your face.

His cheeks grew red and he opened and closed his mouth. He didn’t know if he wanted to kiss or slap that smirk off your mouth. Was it scary that the urge to kiss you was stronger? To him it was terrifying. He already had six weaknesses composed of his crewmates, but having a lover? That would be his downfall, he just knew it. So at what point did the pros outweigh the cons? He would see to it that they never did. For his and your own sake.

The captain still couldn’t help tracing his eyes over your profile. From the slope of your nose to the outline of your lips. Then he studied your hands, the way you held your pen, the way you focused on the paper.

“How long are you going to stare at me, lover boy?” You teased, having grown comfortable with the captain.

You spent most of your time with him to help him navigate and work on the various maps. It was sort of exhausting to have one way conversations with him, but you were okay with it; it was like home.

“Sorry.” His response made you frown slightly, but you returned to your work.

“Does Namjoon dislike me, or something?” You asked cautiously, not looking up from your sketch.

“No...I think he just...has trouble trusting people.” Jungkook huffed, blowing a strand of hair out of his face.

The door that led below deck flung open with a crash and Taehyung stumbled out, looking out of sorts. He immediately went to the side and hurled out his lunch.

“Taehyung, are you alright? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!” You dropped your pad and pencil onto the deck and ran over to look at him. He was pale and wide eyed.

“Just a nightmare.” He choked out, squeezing his eyes shut.

You caught the glistening in his eyes before he left to sit against the wooden siding of the ship. He leaned his head back, brown hair splaying out in all directions, and pulled his knees in close to his chest. The man took deep breaths.

“Must have been one hell of a nightmare.” You murmured, your tone concerned, and you were. You had never seen the man so disoriented. He was often a wild card between serious and loving, but never had you seen him off guard.

The man didn’t respond. His hands gripped his knees. The captain watched his crewmate in sympathy. With a sad expression, he tugged on your arm.

“Y/N, we should leave him be. There are some things you don’t have to know about.”

“His name was Sam.” Taehyung whispered. Jungkook stopped, glancing back at the gunner with curiosity. When he didn’t continue, Jungkook took that as his cue to leave. He dragged you away, disappearing below deck.

His mind was spinning. He went in circles, memories playing on repeat like a video. Taehyung could feel Sam’s warm breath on his neck, the way his hands held his, the way he brushed against him. The man would always claim it was an accident, but Taehyung knew it wasn’t.

While the lull of the sea usually brought him peace, today it reminded him of everything he’d done wrong.

“Aish, you need to let it go already.” Sam sat next to him, his ethereal form hovering above the deck.

“You died right in my arms, Sam. It was my fault for not shooting the man before he shot you.”

“You were processing, it’s okay.”

“Why did I hesitate the one time it mattered?”

“Because you’re human.”

Taehyung bumped his head against the side several times, trying to make the ghostly spirit go away. It was taunting him with a love he could no longer have.

“How can you forgive me?”

“You did all you could.”

“Why aren’t you mad?”

The ghost stood and crouched in front of him, body passing through Taehyung’s knees. He could almost feel the man’s touch, his ghostly fingertips tracing his cheek. Then the wind blew and reminded him of the simple chill that caused it.

“I could never be mad at you Taehyung.”

The man swallowed, watching the specter lean in, his ghost lips brushing over his warm ones.

“How can you say that, Sam?” He said weakly. “When you’re the one with a bullet in your chest.”

“If you weren’t a pirate, Hoseok, what would you be doing?” You sat on the railing that overlooked the main deck. Your legs swung back and forth. The pilot thought over your question, his eyes still set on the horizon.

Hoseok, despite his sunny personality, could look rather serious, possibly angry, when he thought hard enough. He twisted the wheel, sending the boat closer to the mainland.

“I think I would be a dancer.”

“You dance?”

“I wanted to.” He corrected you. Then he released a sigh and placed a pole through one the rungs to hold the steering wheel while he took a break. “It wouldn’t have worked out. It wouldn’t have been a living.”

“Can you show me?” You asked. He raised an eyebrow.

“You want to see?” There was hope in his eyes as he spoke, his words holding an excitement.

“Yeah, for sure!” You smiled widely, eager to see your crewmate either wow you or make you laugh.

“Alright! But you’re getting in on it too, okay?”

“That wasn’t the deal.” You crossed your arms. “Besides, I only know some ballroom dancing.”

“I’ll show you!” He exclaimed excitedly, taking your hand and leading you out to the main deck.

He bowed lowly, pecking your hand with his lips. You instantly flushed bright red and he looked up at you with a sly smile.

“May I have this dance?” He asked.

“Most certainly, kind sir.” You played along, curtsying.

He chuckled and took your arm in his so you were facing opposite directions. Then he began skipping around in a circle, humming out a beat and melody. You laughed, forced to follow along with his antics. He then switched arms and continued the dance. Then he unhooked his arm, spinning you around in a circle.

You fought to regain your balance, the world spinning as you let out more squeals of excitement. He then held up his arm, intertwining his arm with yours. Your hands touched, fingers pointing upwards as he took a step forward, leading you in the new dance move. You both laughed in delight, dancing to the rhythm of the sea and humming a tune only you two knew.

There was a loud cough. The entire crew stood there, even Yoongi, watching you with varying expressions. Jimin looked eagerly between the two of you. Yoongi just sighed, but he didn’t move back below deck as he usually would. Jin was holding back a laugh and even Namjoon let his lips twitch into a smile. Jungkook looked the least pleased.

“Hoseok, don’t you have a job to do?” The captain barked.

“Sorry, captain.” Hoseok bowed and started leaving. You quickly grasped his arm, pulling him back.

“Stop it, Jungkook.” You hissed, not bothering with the title. “You’re always trying to ruin the fun, loosen up and live a little.”

The crew stood still, glancing between the two of you. Jungkook turned on his heel, letting out a huff of air, his nostrils flaring. The rest of the crew awkwardly shuffled from foot to foot.

“Jimin! Get over here, I can see you want to get in on it.” You winked, moving around to push the male towards Hoseok.

The older man easily took the younger in and started showing him the steps. You then shoved Namjoon and Jin together. Yoongi glanced at Taehyung who smirked.

“No way.” Yoongi scoffed, ready to go back down below.

The others were already getting into the swing of things, switching partners and letting playful banter slip in between the melody they all started singing.

“As I was a-walking down Paradise Street.” Jin sang, his voice clean without a warble.

“To me way-aye, blow the man down.” The others chorused.

“A pretty young damsel I chanced for to meet.” Jimin rang out next, his voice like a bell and just as beautiful.

“Give me some time to blow the man down!” They all sang back, erupting into laughter.

Taehyung reached out and grasped the older man’s sleeve.

“Yoongi, I think it’s about time you joined the world of the living.” He stated firmly and dragged him out to dance with the others.

It was soon a mess of laughter and drunken singing, although no one was drunk; they acted like it pretty well. Hoseok was clapping in time to the beat. You wanted to throw yourself into the mix, but you didn’t have a partner. The most eligible man was pissed off below deck, most likely brooding.

You wouldn’t have it. You marched down below, despite how much you hated the claustrophobic feeling of being below deck. You pounded on the captain’s office door and he responded with a stern come in.

You marched inside.

“Captain Jeon Jungkook if you don’t go out there and dance right now, I’m going to drag you out. You can spend all your life hiding from your crew and holding up in your office when everyone is bonding. And you also need to stop brooding like some edgy man baby! Seriously! Loosen up!” You paced, ranting to the captain who sat looking amused at you. His arms were crossed and his eyebrows shot up at the words ‘man baby’.

“Excuse me, is that anyway to speak to your captain?” He frowned, effectively cutting you off. “Maybe I have been too lenient with you and the crew.”

Then he caught himself in the mirror and sagged, suddenly lost in thought. That was something Captain Rogers would say. Except, when he looked at you, you weren’t shaking and crying, you weren’t flinching at his gaze. Instead, you stood straighter.

“You need to be more lenient to yourself, Jungkook.” You stepped around the desk and he swiveled his chair around to face you.

Jungkook had such a youthful face, it was a shame he spoiled it so often with frowns. You could almost see the stress wrinkles already forming. You reached forward, harmlessly brushing your hands with his. He pulled his hand away like you’d burned him.

“Is everything...is everything alright Jungkook?” You asked quietly.

He couldn’t think. The world was spinning. Being in that office, being touched, watching himself in the mirror, it was already painful enough. When he looked at you, it wasn’t you that stared back, he only saw Captain Rogers. His breaths came out hurried and short.

“Look, I’m sorry if I’m pushing you to do something you don’t want to do, but going outside your comfort zone is good sometimes, okay?” You reached out once again and firmly held his hand in yours.

The brush of skin on skin made him nauseous. Your grip was suffocating. He felt like he was drowning. The room felt stuffy, his breaths came shorter and shorter. His eyes wildly gazed around your face, begging to see you and not Captain Rogers. But he only saw the old man’s yellowed grin staring back at him, his lips spewing your words. The anger was back, a simmering pot of rage.

“Don’t touch me.” He said softly.

“What?” You tilted your head, trying to understand what was happening.

“I said don’t touch me!” He ripped his hand away and stood, staggering back a couple of steps. “You don’t know anything about me!” He barked.

His hands trembled and he held his stomach, trying to hold onto its contents. The ghost touches were still there, making him bend over as he tried his best to keep down his lunch.

“Get out!” He shouted. Then his voice went quiet as he trembled. “Just get out.”

He pointed weakly towards the door and you simply nodded and left, as much as you wanted to help him.

He crumpled to the floor, taking in deep breaths as he ran his hands over his arms. I am in control. I am in control now. It was a soft chant in his head as he sat in his little office; his cage.

You couldn’t sleep. The memory of Jungkook tainted your mind. Your heart had been racing since you left his office. He hadn’t arrived for dinner, but Jin delivered it to his office. He didn’t say his usual goodnights to the rest of the crew and so the day ended bitterly. Everyone knew something was wrong with the captain and you didn’t want to pry, but you knew it had something to do with what happened today.

The utter terror he had stared at you with had made your heart drop instantly. The way he flinched when you touched him sent you tumbling into a spiral of self doubt. What mattered was no longer how he made you feel, but how you had made him feel. Was he okay? Did he eat his dinner?

You took a deep breath. With both Eun-kyung and Jungkook haunting your sleep, you could no longer rest. You stood and made your way out to the main deck. There was no wind tonight. The air was still and the ocean eerily calm. The stars twinkled brightly like a blanket of holes in the dark night. The moon was a perfect circle, providing ample light. You leaned against the side. The waves lapped playfully against the wood of the ship. There was a gentle breeze that blew through your hair every so often.

Your nightgown wasn’t the warmest thing to wear, but you didn’t plan on being out for long. It was so quiet your ears rang. There wasn’t a single soul for miles and miles. The peace was nice.

“Can’t sleep?’ The familiar rumble of the captain’s voice met you in the silence. \

His soft steps made their way to stand beside you. He leaned against the railing. Your heart thumped. You shook your head in response to his question. Jungkook let out a soft sigh.

“Yeah, me neither.” He agreed, eyes trained on the dark sea below.

You shifted awkwardly, making sure to keep your distance. You turned to him, admiring the way the shadows fell on his face in the moonlight.

“Look, I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t know what was happening and I pushed you. It was wrong. I’m really really sorry.” You said earnestly, hands clenched. He inhaled sharply, shutting his eyes and nodding.

“I know. It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known. I’m not a very open person.” He confessed. “It was just...something that happened in the past.”

You didn’t want to pry so you nodded and left it at that. He scooted closer to you. You took a step back. He snorted.

“I’m not fragile. I just had a moment there.” The captain said, but his tone was a little saddened.

You fell silent. He shifted toward you and you didn’t move a muscle.

“Y/N?”

“Hm?” Your hair was ruffled by the wind again. He was mesmerized by your beauty. Pros and cons be damned.

“You make me feel...things I didn’t think were possible.” He admitted. “I think I like you...a lot, but I was never taught love or really kindness at all growing up. So I would probably never be able to love you the way you want because I just don’t know how but-”

“Wait, you...like me?” You froze, eyes widening at the captain.

He looked more like a stuttering school boy, clearly having never matured much in the love department. You let a smile break out on your face at his almost nonexistent nod. You resisted the urge to grab his hands.

“Good, because I like you too.” You confessed, your face heating up. He grinned, then tentatively reached for your hands.

“I want to learn. I want to try, but you’ll have to be patient with me, Y/N.” He explained cautiously.

Then he carefully took your hands in his, ignoring the way his skin crawled at the contact. Your wrists. Wrists that had never had a bruise on them. His wrists. Wrists that were a permanent shade of purple and blue. He could try. For you he could try.

You returned to your room that night, your heart thumping wildly. The simplest of touches, holding hands, had sent your heart soaring. Your mind was running wild with the picture. That night, you dug the gold wedding ring out of your bag. You held it up to the moonlight, watching it shine and glint of the metal. Then you unlatched the cabin window, letting the cool air infiltrate your room.

You stuck your hand out and let go, watching as the golden ring that acted as your chain went tumbling all the way down into the water. It’s impact was a mere ripple in the dark waters.

It had been months since you set foot on land. You hadn’t missed it, not really. The swaying of the ship you had become accustomed to and as long as you had your crew, you were happy anywhere.

The dashing captain set foot next to you and you released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Being off the ship gave you a sense of dread. The shackles of social norms and manners were shackles to weigh on you.

“Hey, you’ll be okay.” Jungkook said calmly and you took that as a sign you should move. The other members accompanying you were Yoongi and Jin.

You were paranoid and that was only made a little better by Jungkook being there. You browsed the shops, full well knowing Jungkook could buy the whole town with his money and still have enough left over to last a lifetime. You picked up a necklace, the silver chain was made of delicate links. There was a yellow amulet attached.

Jungkook leaned over you, his skin still never touching yours. He had revealed very little about his past and even then it was rather cryptic. All you could do was assure him that whatever happened when he was growing up was wrong. From the scars on his back and arms, you could piece together a little bit of his story at least. And it wasn’t a story you wanted to read.

Jungkook fingered the jewel for a moment, turning it over in his hands. He then held it up to the sunlight and sucked in a breath. It’s genuine. He thought to himself. Then he handed it back over to you.

“You should get it.” He said quietly, his breath hot against your ear. “It suits you.”

Heat crawled up your neck and he smirked as you paid for the necklace without a second thought. The feeling of being watched didn’t disappear as you continued shopping.

“Y/N?” An all too familiar voice called. It caught you off guard, your breath hitching.

You had always thought Haneul had a similar voice to Eun-kyung. The resemblance was uncanny as your supposed fiance appeared. Jungkook immediately stood on guard, hand moving to his waistband where his gun was holstered. Haneul was not a bad guy. He was stuck in a similar predicament as you.

“Y/N, I can’t believe it’s you.” The man breathed. “Everyone thinks you died!”

“Good!” You spat, standing firmly next to Jungkook. The crowd had yet to notice the scuffle breaking out. “So where’s your back up, huh?”

“I don’t have any. I seriously didn’t expect you to be here.” Haneul held up his hands as a sign of mercy.

Jungkook didn’t loosen. It was like something bad always happened to you when you went on land. It was a little exhausting at this point.

“Please, you and I both didn’t want this, but if I don’t bring you back and marry you, I’m going to be disowned. My parents can’t have a bachelor son who couldn’t even keep track of his fiance in their image.”

You almost felt bad for him. You had both been forced into the situation and while you fled and started a new life, he was forced to bear the brunt of your actions. And for that I’m sorry. You thought, but you didn’t have the decency to voice your thoughts.

“There’s no way she’s going to marry you.” Jungkook’s eyes were wild.

He began playing the part of the maddened captain everyone saw him as. And you saw it too, just for a moment. Was there any way out of this predicament without violence? Surely Haneul would not let you simply walk away. He had been waiting a little over a year to find you and keep his head from being disowned. There was no way he was about to let you go.

“If she doesn’t, It’ll cause a massive uproar in the houses!”

“Good.” Jungkook spat.

You knew how chaotic that would be. While you were technically a pirate who cause chaos all the time, you were not a crew who did so ‘just because’. This just didn’t have a good reason. Besides, the noble houses were still a part of the hierarchy of society. What would happen if they were thrown into such unrest?

“You still have a search warrant out for you, Y/N. The prices have been upping since your departure.” Haneul spoke. You frowned in response. “It’s at 500,000 gold shillings. That’s enough to last a man most of his lifetime in comfort.”

“Yes, I know how many shillings that is.” You said bitterly.

You thought over your options. Running was out of the question. There were two of you and one of him. Your disadvantage would be running through the crowd and Haneul was always a fast runner. The second option was to stay and talk to him, but that gave him ample time to call for backup. The third option...was not one that would please Jungkook, but it was also the best way to get Haneul to stand down.

What can ya say? If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em.

Jungkook was reaching his breaking point. Your lightest touches were reversing years of mental and physical torture. While he’d never be whole ever again, you filled the space well enough. You were humming softly to yourself, a tune only you knew, as you filled in the key for the newest map.

“Y/N?” He called, watching you look up. Your eyes were curious as you stared at him. He felt his breath hitch at the way your hair fell perfectly around your face.

“What is it, Jungkook?” You asked.

“Thank you.” He said.

You tilted your head, eyebrows knitting together in the cutest expression. You set your pen down and reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. You made sure not to brush your hand against his cheek.

“For what?”

“Everything.” He said vaguely, years of practiced poise coming in between him speaking earnestly with you.

“Are you alright?” You stared intently into his eyes. You placed your hand on his forehead without thinking to check his temperature. Yet, his skin didn’t crawl at your contact. His forehead was warm, but normal, which meant he wasn’t sick.

Jungkook had a dam. It was a high wall and it built itself higher every time he held back his emotions. Behind was a swirling tide of tears and pain waiting to be released. The waters swelled once more. He bit his lip and started building the wall higher. His doe eyes widened as he tried to keep the tears at bay. When he looked into your eyes, you seemed to genuinely wonder if he was okay. When was he ever okay?

He inhaled shakily.

“Do you really want to know?”

“Yes.” You said without hesitation, shoving the papers in front of you to the side. The ink rolled onto the floor. He laced his fingers together, knees bouncing as he pondered what to say.

“Okay.” He released a breath. “I need to start at the beginning.”

When his story was told through and through, no detail spared no matter how gruesome, he finally met your gaze. In your eyes were...tears. You looked devastated and as much as you wanted to reach out and hold him, you knew how much he disliked skin on skin.

“What they did to you was wrong, Jungkook.” You said firmly, though your voice shook at the very last word. He closed his eyes, leaning back in his chair.

“I’ve been trying to convince myself of that since I was 18. But it’s easier said than done.” He felt the dam breaking. The wall was old, cracks letting out small streams of water.

“We can help you. We’ll be with you every step of the way.” You cleared your throat. “I will be with you every step of the way.”

The captain felt like a small child under your warm gaze. He was once again a vulnerable boy, one who couldn’t understand the evils befalling him. He threw his hands over his face, scooting his chair back and curling over in his lap. His head hit his thighs to avoid your eyes. The dam broke.

Haneul was tired. Tired and angry. A year of berating, pitied looks, and whispers behind his back had let the rage build up. He let it brew, blaming it all on you. You were the reason he was being disowned. You were selfish. You put him through this. Yet, he sat next to you, a bowl of soup in front of him and an anxious crew watching.

He carefully picked it up, examining the contents. Broth. Carrots. What else was in there? It couldn’t be too bad. You watched him with a smile, knowing he was probably going through the same thought process as you had.

“And there’s nothing else in this?” He said skeptically.

“Just carrots and soup!” Jin defended. You snickered behind your hand. Jin turned and slapped your arm. “It is!”

“If that’s just carrots and soup, then I’m just a brain on wheels.” You chuckled.

“Seriously!” Jin shouted. Haneul sighed and took a sip.

He swallowed. The crew held their breaths. Then he went and took another bite. You gaped.

“Oh it’s not too bad, Jin!” Haneul smiled, but his ears were growing red. “It had a little, achem, kick.”

Jin puffed out his chest and crossed his arms. “See! You all underestimate me. Or maybe…”

“Don’t say it.” Yoongi groaned.

“I’m just saying you might just be wusses and Haneul here can actually stomach it because he has the balls.” Jin clapped the young man on his back.

The captain sputtered at that. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” The older man pointed at the captain. “You don’t have the balls to drink the soup, all of you. You just complain.”

“I bet I can drink more than you!” Taehyung pointed at Yoongi. The pale man’s face dropped, his expression of neutral impassivity.

“You’re going to lose that bet.”

Haneul watched the crew, still trying to get out of his habits as a nobleman. He needed to blend in, get you to trust him. He cleared his throat, which was still burning.

“I’m going to get a bit of fresh air.” He declared, his body still sore from spending a night in the jail. You nodded at him and he hated the happy look on your face.

Why did you get to be happy when he was miserable? Weren’t you the one who ran away from the problem? He glanced at your ring finger, but there was no glint of gold. The captain had several rings and earrings, but nothing on his ring finger. You and the captain were speaking quietly to each other. Haneul saw the captain smile when he spoke with you.

He dropped the message off the ship and prayed the tide would take it where it needed to go. Then he breathed in the sea air. He hated the ocean, always preferred land. He heard footsteps and knew it was you. You stood there, observing him for a moment.

“What are you doing?”

“Missing home.”

You narrowed your eyes. He had yet to walk the plank, he wasn’t a true crew member yet and you were allowed your reservations. You remembered Jungkook’s words. We all hold a deep love for the sea. Yet, here Haneul was moaning about home. It only helped to set in more of your suspicions.

“I get that.” You said quietly. You took a place next to him.

“I don’t understand the universe, Y/N.” He started slowly. You faced him, confusion written on your face, but he didn’t turn to face you. “You’re so happy, so free. You get to do the things you’ve always wanted to do while I’m still constrained.”

“I followed what I wanted to do. If you don’t want to live a life at sea, then we should drop you off at the nearest village and you can be on your way.” You said softly.

“You don’t understand! Y/N! You ran away from your problems! Why do I have to be punished for your mistakes?” He trembled with rage, the powerful emotion pulling at him from all edges and bursting at the seams.

“I’m sorry, Haneul.” you said, seeing how he truly felt. The anger that was dripping off of him like honey had a bittersweet taste. “I’m doing what I love and you should too.”

“I can’t be a nobleman if I’m disowned. There’s not a suitable girl within the houses for another five years.” He bit his lip and looked to the night sky. “Which is why I need to bring you back.”

You took a step away from him, itching to go back below deck.

“You can’t be serious, Haneul?”

“You had your little adventure, you got to be a pirate, yay. Now let’s go back and maybe we can salvage your reputation.”

“Reputation?” You sputtered. “This has nothing to do with that. I’m never going to go back with you.” You said furiously. “We’ll be dropping you off at the nearest village first thing.”

He turned to look at you finally. A haunting look was in his eyes.

“And how far away is the nearest village?”

“A day and night away.”

“And you really think our parents wouldn’t have sent a ship with both of us missing?” He chuckled darkly. You backed away.

“What did you do? Haneul what did you do?” You screeched, racing away as he laughed. You flung open the door to the lower deck where the crew was still eating happily.

They all stopped talking, taking in your ragged form. Immediately, Jungkook stood and went to you. He didn’t touch you, but he had concern written on his face. His gaze was steely, but you didn’t cower.

“What’s wrong, love?” He asked, his voice hoarse.

“Where’s Haneul?” Jimin piped up.

“He tricked us.” You took a deep breath and met your lover’s gaze. “Haneul tricked us.”

Taehyung yawned, his guns resting on his lap. The ghost of Sam hovered nearby.

“You should get some sleep.” He chided.

“I know, Sam.” Taehyung grumbled. “But I have night watch and I won’t let my crew down.”

“Will a ship really attack? I think Haneul may have been bluffing.” Taehyung could almost feel his breath. The gunner shook his head.

“No can do.” He replied, fiddling with his guns.

“Then let me rest, Tae, so I don’t have to watch you do this to yourself.” The ghost pleaded. Taehyung smiled a little.

“Nope. You’re staying right here, Sam.” He murmured. The man watched the horizon. No one was in sight for miles. Maybe he would just shut his eyes for one minute.

One minute too late.

The sound of hushed voices woke him up. He knew those voices were not his crew’s. Then his eyes traveled to the brooding black ship sidled up next to them. Taehyung flung himself up, lurching towards his guns. Sam was gone. How many crews were going to be slaughtered on his watch? His heart quickened. Taehyung didn’t have time to feel the guilt of this information, he needed to act.

The gunner opened the door to the lower deck and quietly shut it behind him. Then he raced to the captain’s office.

“Come in.”

“Captain, they’re here. They’re on the upper decks, we need to attack while we still can.” Taehyung said breathlessly. Jungkook’s eyes widened.

“How did they board? Nevermind, what matters is that they’re on the ship already.” He stood and opened his drawer that had a gun in it. Then he flung open his office door. “Gather the men. We’re going to battle.”

BTS had never really been in a battle. They often had the upper hand in a situation and crews went down without a fight. But it was at this moment that you remembered that everyone in the crew could hold their own.

Yoongi held a harpoon and he was tangoing with an invader. Their figures were mere shadows in the moonlight. You had taken a knife from the kitchen, but you didn’t want to attack in case they were your men. The only sounds were the rhythmic pounding of the sea and the grunts of the men wrestling on the deck.

There were a few cracks of light as gunpowder fizzed in the air and stung your nose. It was like an awful hellscape. You stepped in a liquid and prayed it was water and not a puddle of blood. Lifting up your foot to examine, your fears were confirmed.

You sidestepped a body that was flung off the side. You knew the man to be an enemy because Jin’s face lit up in the moonlight in front of you. He was breathing heavily, a dried streak of rusty blood down his face.

“Y/N, get the rowboat ready. We need to leave, they’ve brought too many men and we’re only seven.” He shouted over the commotion.

The crack and pop of several guns went off at once, lighting the sky up with gray smoke.

Hoseok ran over, looking a little worse for wear. He had a bruise forming on his cheek and a painful gash on his arm.

“We’ve got to go, now.” He grasped your arm, trying to pull you away.

His face was serious, angry, pained. All emotions you never expected to attribute to the man. Jungkook. You turned to watch the figures. You recognized Jimin’s blonde hair.

“Jimin!” You shouted as an enemy approached him with a knife.

Jimin turned, the sweet boy looking at you with wide eyes. The cabin boy was never meant for battle.

A guttural scream of rage came from the side and the hiss of a gun going off lit up the deck. Taehyung’s face was illuminated, thoroughly pissed. He refused to hesitate again. He wouldn’t let another crew member die on his watch. He shot at the would be attacker, but you assumed it must have been adrenaline making his hand shaky.

He missed. In all your time on the ship, Kim Taehyung had never missed a shot. Everything was working against you. Taehyung jumped in front of Jimin, resulting in him getting punched in the nose, blood instantly spurting.

You tore your grasp away from Hoseok.

“Y/N, stop!”

“Hobi! The crew needs me!” You shouted, racing towards Jimin.

You pulled Taehyung up and grabbed Jimin’s arm as Jungkook shot the enemy dead.

“Tae, get up, Jimin, help him.” You wrapped a dazed Taehyung’s arm around Jimin’s shoulder.

The cabin boy nodded at you and you could see the steel behind his eyes. The timid boy was anything but timid. Jungkook ran towards you.

“Y/N, you need to get off the ship. The others are already going to the rowboat.” He said, his voice hurried and his eyes wide.

Your eyes trailed to six familiar shapes climbing into the rowboat.

“But someone needs to stay behind to release it.” You said quietly. Jungkook nodded.

“I know.”

“You can’t really be suggesting yourself, you self-sacrificing bastard?!” You shouted, feeling tears pricking at your eyes. His face was sculpted perfectly in the moonlight, a white spotlight beaming down just for him.

“Please, Y/N, I don’t have any other choice. A captain always goes down with the ship.”

“No.” You stood firmly, tired of being pushed around finally. You inhaled sharply. “I have nothing to return to. I won’t let you do this alone.”

“Y/N…I love you” He sighed and then, out of character, he drew you into a hug. Your breath hitched. His skin didn’t crawl at the touch. “Please don’t do this.” He whispered.

“I love you too, Jungkook, but-” You started, rubbing his back. You looked over his shoulder. “Jungkook!” You screeched. The man tensed in your hold, turning around just in time to see the figure coming towards him.

Everything slowed.

The captain pushed you away, and faced the man. There was this terrible high pitched noise in the background. The last enemy had found you and you recognized him. Myung-suk. And there were more coming. The glint of steel meeting flesh flashed in your eyes. You reached out for him, your lover. His face went pale.

His inky black hair glistened in the moonlight. His blood stained the floorboards and there was still the screeching sound. You met his eyes one last time. His lips mouthed ‘it’s okay’.The man threw the captain’s lifeless body off the side of the ship. The screeching sound, you’d come to realize, were your own screams. His body was nothing more than a ripple in the sea.

The world went back into motion. You immediately kicked the young soldier in the chest, effectively winding him like you’d seen Namjoon do once or twice. Then you took a big fistful of his shirt and pushed him off the side of the ship, not hearing his cries over your own. You whispered a prayer for Jungkook and cursed Myung-suk.

May Jungkook become one with the sea and may Poseidon have no mercy on the man with the bloodied knife. Your hands shook, pain overtaking your mind. You didn’t have time to sob. The ship was headed towards the rocks. The crew was still in the rowboat, waiting for someone to release them.

Mourning would get you nowhere. Despite the aching cavity in your chest, your crew needed you. He would have wanted that. So you refused the urge to dive right into the sea after him. You just wanted to be one with the sea, to let it wash over your wounds. Instead, you ran down the decks you had spent the last year of your life on. The ghostly memories of your crewmates flooded back to you.

You saw Namjoon first, his memory turning to look at you.

Ah, you’re the new crew member, I see? Welcome to the family.

You swiped at your eyes. Yoongi’s ghostly form stood, his harpoon in hand, the memory reminding you of sunny days.

Y/N, stop looking at me like that. If you want to know how to fish, I’ll show you. Here, c’mere.

You let another teardrop fall. The wheel sat empty as you passed it. Hoseok’s memory stood there, turning the ship, whispering with Jimin.

Y/N! Want to dance?

Jimin smiled, his eyes crinkling wonderfully.

Y/N, I’m sorry for sleeping on the job last night. Thanks for covering for me!

His chuckle was beautiful. Seokjin had his hands on his hips.

I didn’t put anything in that soup, you wusses. He argued.

Taehyung leaned his head on the side of the ship.

It’s nothing, just a nightmare.

You tried to breathe, but the worst memory was next.

The sky seemed to clear as you went through it once more. A well built man stood on the end of the ship. The night of gunpowder fell away. His hair ruffled in the wind. He turned to you, a smile on his face, doe eyes crinkling in delight. Jungkook held out his hand, his captain attire as crisp as ever.

Are you ready, little miss?

And you almost took his hand.

You tore your eyes away, turning to where the crew now rested. Six in the boat, one at the bottom of the sea, one staying on the ship. You started lowering the ropes, ignoring the shouts of the crew. You felt a ghostly presence and you just knew it was him. Jungkook placed a hand on your back, guiding you through the motions.

“Sh, it’s going to be alright. Stop shaking, love. You’re doing so well.” He whispered words of praise.

“Y/N, stop, just climb aboard.” Namjoon’s words suddenly hit you. You stared incredulously at the man.

“So we can all die?” You shouted. Tears traced their way down your cheeks. “Namjoon, do you trust me?”

The man looked unsure, a pain behind his eyes. He looked down at the sea, his eyes drifting to the place his oldest friend perished. He looked devastated. And he was. His heart was breaking open for the young boy who deserved better, the boy who despite all odds, worked to make a name for himself. But above all, he was glad that his body was resting in the waves of the place he loved the most; The sea. He couldn’t mourn, he had to do his job as a first mate. He had to become the leader the crew needed. He couldn’t hesitate and let them all perish. You weren’t budging either.

Did he trust you?

“Yes.” He responded softly. You nodded and let the ropes fall, placing the boat gently into the water.

You couldn’t stop the tremble of your hands. All you wanted to do was cry, fall to the floor and let the sobs overtake your body. The boat drifted into the ocean and the rope fell away. The other ship blasted a hole into the side of BTS. You tumbled to the ground, sobs finally wracking your body. You watched the rowboat headed toward the shore.

“Get up.” Jungkook urged. “Y/N, get up.” His voice was firm, his ghost as clear as day.

“Jungkook, I-”

“You shouldn’t have, love. I should’ve been there.” He whispered. “You should find another way out. Don’t sacrifice yourself for a foolish captain like me.” You could almost hear his sheepish smile.

You stood, placing your hands on the side of the ship and watching the water come closer. You sniffled, letting your stomach drop as the ship sunk farther. Your eyes were glossy with tears, your heart shattered, so with all the courage left in your body, you turned to face his ghost. You hair flew in the breeze and the moment was of peaceful contrast to moments before.

“No, I’m going down with the ship.”

You were falling. The world seemed to slow, going still as if you had halted in mid air. The waves welcomed you home, embracing you to your bones. Taehyung’s smile, Jin’s laugh, Yoongi’s quiet nods, Hoseok’s dancing, Jimin’s eyes, Namjoon’s voice, Jungkook’s face.

They held you close, but Jungkook’s ghost held you the tightest as the rest faded away. When you looked up, there was no shadowy figure diving in to save you. It was just dark, the light of the sinking BTS illuminating the water.

The ghost of his lips hovered over yours as the sky sank farther out of reach. Your lungs filled with water, body finally being overtaken with the sea. Black ink fell across your vision as Jungkook’s ghost whispered words of praise. A bittersweet ending to the ship of the Bulletproof Boy Scouts.

You glimpsed his face, his ethereal body hovering above you, now one with the ocean. The crew had always been a mess, a tragically beautiful mess, but him, most of all.

Sea and the rock below Cocked to the undertow Bones, blood and teeth erode With every crashing node

Taglist: @lovelyseomin @yoongi-sugaglider @merakiiverse

#bts #bts x reader #Jeon Jungkook #Jungkook x reader #Jungkook #JK #tatawrites #pirate au #fluff #angst #Down With The Ship #major character death

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atinydise · 4 years

Text

Ateez reacting to their s/o being an artist

❦ Genre: Fluff.

❦ Pairing: OT8.

❦ Word count: 12k4.

❦ Requested: Yes, thank you! 🦋

❦ Masterlist.

HONGJOONG

It’s been 3 weeks that you were painting his jacket. You bought it last month for your boyfriend: Hongjoong. But something was missing. You couldn’t find the perfect details for him. Hongjoong was known to be a fashionista. Every time, he had a free day, he would hang out with you or let his creative mind customize his clothes. So, after a long time thinking about the perfect gift for him, you rushed to the store to bought all you needed as paint, brush, sparkles, patterns, etc. You were happy that your art lessons were useful, finally. Being an artist was not your dream job, but you wished you could draw or paint more.

When Hongjoong arrived at the dance practice room, he was surprised to see you there, sitting on the couch, probably waiting for him. “Oh, what are we doing here?” he asked. “Hello to you too Joongie,” you stood up holding his wrapped gift on your arms. “Sorry,” he giggled, “hello Y/N!” He pecked you slightly. “Better,” you said, smiling like an idiot. He pointed at the pack, “what is it?” You handed your gift to him, being nervous a little bit more every second, “it’s a gift for you.” He smiled and rushed next to the desk to open it properly. You stayed still, looking at any reactions. “Wow, Y/N…” he said amazed by your artwork. He looked at the back and was shocked to see your signature at the top, near the collar. “You can be honest with me! If you don’t like it, I will buy something else for you!” You walked up next to him. He shook his head and faced you,” no it’s more than perfect! Why you hadn’t told me earlier that you were an artist?” “I’m not a real one… I just enjoyed my art lessons a lot.” You smiled. He tried the jacket and checked his back on the mirror, “this is beautiful Y/N! I feel like a beginner now next to you!” he laughed. “Happy that you like it,” you giggled, happy that your artwork paid off. “Promise me that we will customize or paint together now?” he asked, holding your hands. “Promise.” You nodded, satisfied that he loved the jacket so much.

SEONGHWA

You were enjoying a day off with your boyfriend: Seonghwa. He offered to spend the afternoon on the rooftop of their dorm. The weather was warm so with snacks and cuddles it would be more than perfect. Since you got there, you talked about everything. You felt like you hadn’t talked like that (without being interrupted by his teammates) since a long time. As the sun was warming both of you and without looking at Seonghwa, you knew that he fell asleep next to you. How you knew it? The little sound he does when he’s sleeping. With the light and the flowers blooming around him, you couldn’t help but to find it pretty and aesthetic. Without thinking twice, you quietly left the rooftop to the dorm. You looked for a paper and a pen. Of course, you find it in Hongjoong’s bedroom. You climbed back on the rooftop, hoping that he was still sleeping. Bingo, he was even snoring. You sat down next to him and started to draw the beautiful features of your boyfriend. You respected exactly how the sun light was illuminating his face. After 10 longs minutes, Seonghwa cracked an eye to look what was the strange sound next to him. When he saw the smile on your face, he was confused but he noticed the paper and the pen on your hands. “Are you studying?” he asked, sitting properly, ready to help you. You shook your head happily and showed his portrait. He blinked and stared intensely at the sheet, “d-did you drew it?” You rolled your eyes, “no it was a little Leprechaun who came just to draw you.” You said sarcastically, “of course it’s me babo*!” Too amazed by your talent, he didn’t react at you calling him an idiot. “This is incredible Y/N! I didn’t know that you were drawing so well!” You winked, “there’s many things you don’t know about me yet!” “But the thing I know is that you need to draw me a lot more! I look so good!” You scoffed and snatched the paper off his hands. “I don’t know if your ego deserves it.” “Pleaseeeee,” he begged starting to tickle you. “You are too talented to hide it!” You knew that you wouldn’t resist at his ministrations. But you would love to have him as a model.

*babo: idiot in Korean.

YUNHO

You were invited at “ATEEZ game party”, like every Saturday when they’re not promoting. Each time they were playing a game the whole night. Tonight, they choose the Pictionary. Your partners were Wooyoung and Jongho. “It’s not because you are my girlfriend that I will let you win Y/N!” said Yunho, cockily. “Yes sure,” you said smirking. You were dating for 2 weeks now and you never told him yet that you were pretty good at drawing. You couldn’t wait to see his reactions. After several rounds, Yunho and Mingi were winning but you hadn’t draw yet. “Seems like we know the winner already!” Hi-fiving Mingi. “So, this is my turn?” You stood up, grabbing the marker on the table.” You smiled at your teammates and asked, “are you ready boys?” They nodded and focused directly on the board. When you heard the countdown biped, you rushed to draw the first hint. Wooyoung instantly yelled, “An angel!” “Correct!” Waisting no time, you continued to draw. “A horse!” Another point. “A university!” Yelled Jongho. “Yes!” you smiled.” “BIBIMBAP!” said Wooyoung. ”No?” “OH BULGOGI!” corrected the maknae. Yunho’s jaw dropped every time he saw you drawing so easily, pulverizing his score. “Crazy in love!” Answered Wooyoung at the last second. He stood up and clapped, “you are drawing so well. It’s impossible to not guess!” Yunho nodded and added, “he’s right! I didn’t know that you were such an artist!” “I keep some details private,” you stuck your tongue out. When you sat down, San ordered, “first to be in Y/N’s team at the next round.” “She’s my girlfriend! I need to be in her team!” “I will choose San as my teammate.” You smirked. “W-What? Traitor!” claimed Yunho. “You were the first to say that you wouldn’t let me win, traitor.” You winked. He rolled his eyes and smiled. I will take my revenge Y/N!”

YEOSANG

“You? An artist? I don’t believe you,” laughed Yeosang. “Why? I can draw properly!” you tried to persuade him. Yeosang was your crush since the high school, and he got one for you too but none of you confessed. Why? Because you were 2 cowards. Plus, even if you knew each other since a long time, you never told him that you wanted to be an artist. Next to his dream of becoming an idol, you find yours ridiculous. You never showed him the artwork you made even if you really wanted to. “I never saw you drawing anything in 3 years,” he said boldly. “But I do.” “Then show me some and I will tell if you are a real artist,” he smirked. You weren’t okay with that at first, but it was just Yeosang and you would get another advices and critics on your art. “Okay,” you sat on the couch and looked for the little diary you are using when you have a sudden inspiration. He raised a brow, “is it your secret diary?” You rolled your eyes and opened randomly a page in front of him. There were portraits, sketches or even human representations in the real life. Yeosang was paying attention to everything, turning every page consciously. It made you a lot more nervous. ‘So?...” You finally asked, waiting any reaction. “You are really… talented Y/N,” he answered, not leaving the diary. “Really?! You like it?” you said happily. “Yes! Now, I’m mad that you hadn’t showed me this well before today! This is incredible!” You giggled, a bit embarrassed, “thank you.” Yeosang was still looking at every page when he noticed that this specific one was surrounded by his his portrait. “Am I your model number 1?” he asked arrogantly. “Huh- probably…” you simply replied, blushing lightly. He smirked and put his arm around your shoulder, “than if I’m your model number 1, I’m your fan #1! You are so talented.” He confessed, smiling at you. You didn’t reply, too focus on hiding the blush on your face but you knew that it was useless. If you knew, you would show him a lot earlier than this.

SAN

“What? Are you serious?” asked San. Your friend nodded happily while you were hiding your face from embarrassment. “An artist? I know you were good at painting, etc. but being an artist was your dream job?” You sighed, “yes in high school.” “And she was determined till we graduated!” “Yes… but it’s so hard to start from nothing, I just gave up.” “I can’t believe it!” Said San, visibly shocked. “And she wanted to expose her artwork in a gallery! Like a real artist!” You sighed again when you friend revealed your secrets. “Y/N! You need to follow your dream and achieve your goal.” You smiled at your boyfriend, “I can’t do that San-ie. I have another job now-“ “That you hate!” he said straight. “Yes, but I need money to live.” “Quit your job and I’ll help you to promote your paints or something else!” He ordered enthusiastically. “San… I don’t want to take advantage of your popularity to-“ “You are not! He’s offering to help you!” said your friend. San nodded and said, “exactly! I want the entire world to know how talented you are.” You were really hesitant but one part of you really wanted to give it a try. “But what if nobody likes what I do?” “They will like it for sure!” he said holding your hand to reassure you. “Come on Y/N! We all know that you want to do it.” Said your friend. “You took a deep breath and finally agreed, “let’s go give a try then!” Both of them shouted a big “Yes”, finally relieved that you will achieve and follow the path you really wanted to take. “But I have only one condition.” Said San, seriously. You stared at him, waiting his explanation a bit confused. “You will need to paint me and add it on your gallery.” You laughed and nodded in approval. Of course, you could do that, he’s the one for what everything would be possible.

MINGI

Mingi and you were walking to your apartment. It was your first date, and everything went well. You ate in a casual and not too luxurious restaurant and ended by a little walk at the Han River. It’s been a long time since you had so much fun. When he offered to take you back at your home safely, you accepted and even proposed to eat an ice cream there since it was hot tonight. He didn’t take too long to accept. “Who would refuse a vanilla ice cream?” he said. Just in front of your entrance door, you stopped and faced him without saying anything. “Something’s wrong?” he asked. “It’s probably a mess inside….” You bit your lips. “Maybe I should clean a bit first.” He smiled, “don’t worry, I’m living with 7 boys and only one is cleaning the dorm.” You scratched your head embarrassed but you turned around and unlocked the door. You hesitate a second to turn on the lights, but you couldn’t stay on the dark for the rest of the night. Mingi followed you calmly and looked around him. “Yes… I know this is messy.” You said, ashamed by yourself. “It’s pretty clean… I’m just surprised to see that you are an artist.” “Oh.” It’s true that you never talked about your passion with him yet. “I’m drawing since a long time now.” You simply replied, looking at your artwork in the corner of the room. Mingi pointed at the pain on the wall, “you did this?” You nodded, “yes and this is my favorite.” “You are amazing Y/N,” he shouted. He was looking at every details of the frame. The way you painted every classic dancer as with swan’s elegancy was incredible. “You should have told me earlier! I would organize a better date for you!” You giggled, “it was already perfect!” “I will do better next time!” you smiled. “Then okay,” you replied happily. An hour later Mingi and you were talking about each other dreams and childhood. The whole night, while you were eating this ice cream, he begged you to gift one of your future paint. That was a successful date.

WOOYOUNG

You were laying lazily on your bed. Outside the weather was terrible: it was raining and windy. You were supposed to visit an outside art gallery, but the rain ruined your plan and your mood too. “Come on Y/N… you can visit it another day.” “Yes, but I wanted to see it today…” “Why?” he raised a brow. “Because I knew I would get inspiration!” He laughed, “ I didn’t know that you liked art that much.” You pouted. He noticed that you were really disappointed so he thought about something to do which can replace the gallery. But you came out with an idea before him. “Wooyoung-ie.” You whispered shyly, “Can I draw you? As a special model?” He raised a brow, “what do you mean as a ‘special model’?” You smiled awkwardly, already regretting your request. “A nude model…” you said shyly. He choked with his saliva at this unbelievable request. “Y/N!” “Oh please! I never tried to draw someone before!” “You can draw me WITH my clothes!” he said outraged. “Oh, come one… don’t be so shy! I already saw you naked!” He stood up and get away from you, scared. “I said no! Can’t you be a normal artist!” You laughed at how shy he was, “come on… or at least topless.” He stayed quiet. It was not a big deal anymore. “Okay.” “YAY! I will grab my stuff!” You rushed to the living-room. “And why you never told me that you were an artist! And not only a “simple girl who likes to draw,” he mimicked you. “What a supportive boyfriend,” you shouted from the next room. “Everything for my lady,” he giggled, “except being a nude model.”

JONGHO

You were in Jongho’s arms, laying on the couch. He was rubbing your hand slowly while you were looking at your phone, scrolling on your Instagram feed. He noticed that many paintings, potteries, illustrations or graphics design were surrounding your feed. “You like art that much?” he asked. You just nodded on his chest. “You should give a try.” “I did but I’m not that talented,” you said. “Show me some of your artwork.” You nodded again lazily and cliqued on your phone gallery. You went on the “art” album and showed some pictures at Jongho. “You really did this?” he said pointing at your phone. “Yep, but… this is nothing special when you look at other art accounts.” “Are you kidding me?” he said straight. “This is incredible Y/N!” “You said that because you are my boyfriend.” “No! You have your own graphic identity!” You smiled, Jongho knew so many things even if it wasn’t related to his domain. “I just like blurry thing.” “For real baby! You should post at least one of your painting.” “But what if people mock me?” “He rolled his eyes and grabbed your phone, “I will upload it.” “W-What?” you freaked out. “You are an artist! An artist is always promoting her work!” You bit your lips. You knew he was right, but you never thought you would share your little secrets publicly. Jongho uploaded his favorite paint and pottery that you did. He added tags and a caption to show that you made it. “What a professional. Being an idol and communicating with his fans was helpful,” you thought “I’m pretty sure you will get nice and advised comments!” he smiled rubbing and messing your hair, happily. “I hope…” Waiting for a comment or a like, Jongho rubbed your cheek and said: “I like how we still learn about each other every day.” You nodded, “Yes, I’m living for this. I feel like you are a complete stranger but the person I know the most in this earth too.” You were dating for 3 months only but nothing was boring with the maknae. Like if everything was possible.

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez requests #ateez reactions #ateez imagines #Ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez jongho #ateez fluff #ateez cute #ateez x atiny #ateez x reader #ateez x you

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