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archive-of-alexandria · 2 years ago

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Mind Your Manners (Sanji X Reader)

A/N: ITS KINKTOBER! I have it in my head that head-over-heels, perverted Sanji would absolutely give the Reader snacks or food that are just a little bit too messy as an excuse to watch them clean up after themself and I just had to write it out. Kinda feels yandere? Smutty Food Play, because I haven't seen enough kinky Sanji action on here. xx

Sanji knows better than to play with his food. However, the way you're sitting at the dining table - pretty legs tucked up underneath you and breasts pressed together as you lean on your elbows - makes him think that he may have to make an exception.

Sanji's rule about manners doesn't extend to you, however.

No.

Sanji goes out of his way to ensure that you'll make a mess in his kitchen.

Back during the summer months, the Going Merry had made a pitstop at an island known for their enormous strawberries. Sanji had been eager to try his hand at pastries for a change - tarts, pies, the works - and the gargantuan summertime fruits seemed the perfect challenge.

A challenge the cook didn't anticipate, however, was finding you elbow-deep in the barrel of harvested berries that same evening, caught literally red-handed from the saccharine juices that dripped from your fingertips to the floor with a heavy tap tap tap.

The sight was enough to make his heart nearly stop.

Your eyes had been wide and your flushed cheeks were even wider, stuffed with sweet fruit as juice covered your face and hands...and every bit of you was dripping. Sanji had been unsure of where to look and his eyes darted between your slick fingers, your shy expression, and your perfectly tinted, glossy lips. He had never seen a more heavenly sight.

In his mind, nothing could ever compare...until your tongue ran along the back of your hand in a feeble attempt to clean yourself.

In the darkness of his room, Sanji thought about that tease of a tongue for weeks afterward.

Ever since then, he has taken extra care to make sure that you're given the messiest meals he can make. They're not gross, of course - Sanji is a chef first and a lover second. No, they're not gross. They are delectable. Every hum of enjoyment, every slurp, every squish...Sanji would lie awake in bed and dream of the different foods he wished to cover you in, if only just to watch you lick it up.

You had offered to help him make cinnamon buns one morning - though not without taking a generous helping of frosting on your finger and sucking it clean. "Labor tax", you joked with a wink. The image of your tongue licking the sinful-looking sweetness from your finger, mingled with your contented sigh, was seared into Sanji's brain from that moment forward.

Sanji became obsessed with watching you eat.

Food has always been an extension of Sanji's love for his crew and an expression of devotion. The act of cooking is artistic, and the act of eating is intimate. Hell, the kitchen itself is a lesson in foreplay: the preparation, the getting hands dirty, the building heat, the waiting game...all leading to a very satisfying end.

If only Sanji's cooking prowess had an excuse to leave the kitchen and move into the bedroom.

Sanji has yet to make his cake and eat it too in the ways of romance, though it would seem that you have recently taken a keen interest in his particular set of skills. The cook has noticed an increasing frequency of your kitchen visits, observing the way your eyes seem to latch to his hands and arms as he works. You've grown bolder, assisting him in his preparations and letting your elbows brush up against one another.

Sanji relishes the days you ask for his help and he nestles you between his body and the table, guiding your hands in his much larger ones.

The cook has grown bolder too, sometimes pressing too tightly against your back to allow his front to press up against your firm bottom as he huskily mumbles praises in your ear. He swears, sometimes, he can feel you lean into him.

The kitchen is the way to Sanji's heart, and he hopes that it may be the way into your bed.

And here you were, seated at his table awaiting the meal he had promised to cook for you once the Going Merry restocked at port.

As Sanji wipes down his cooking station, he lets his eyes drink you in without shame. Your breasts are practically falling from your tattered blouse, soft pillows highlighted by the dim candlelight of the galley. You're playing with your fingers, unaware of Sanji's gaze. He smirks.

"Sanji," You sigh, flushing pink as you look up to meet his gaze already set upon you,

"Is it almost ready?"

He chuckles, crossing his arms.

"My sweet girl is hungry, hm?" He muses, tossing his dishrag over his shoulder,

"Just a few more minutes, love."

"Wha-? But-!"

"You can't rush perfection now, can you?"

"Sanji," You whine, wiggling in your seat. His eyes once again meet your chest.

"If I had known it was going to take this long I would have taken up Zoro's offer to go to the pub."

Sanji stiffens.

The chef stands to his full height, a cigarette appearing between his tight-pressed lips as he turns from you to check on the pot simmering on the stove.

You, however, hold your ground.

It's silent.

"I didn't know you and mosshead had plans."

Sanji's voice is low. Much too low, and empty. It unsettles you.

"San-"

"-It's ready."

In a manner much too abrupt for the usually smitten Sanji, a steaming bowl is placed before you with an alarming thud. The spoon rattles in reaction to his aggressive delivery.

The enticing smell of the ramen can't mask the uneasy way Sanji stands perfectly still in front of you, face shrouded in shadow except for the blazing butt of his cigarette.

You're unsure of where to look, splitting your attention between the meal before you and the man hovering above the table. Sanji makes the decision for you.

"You were so hungry just a moment ago," he quips,

"So eat up."

You swallow, heat pooling in your cheeks and between your legs. This was nothing but the "Zoro effect" on Sanji, as you and Nami call it. Gingerly, you take hold of the spoon. Peering into the bowl, the meal looks heavenly - though you're soon aware of the way your hair keeps falling into your eyes, threatening to become part of the soup.

Your hair had grown long during the months at sea, and you had unwillingly lent Usopp your last bauble for slingshot practice. Your frustration doesn't go unnoticed.

“Here, my darling,” Sanji hummed, circling the table until he was behind you, “Let me help.”

At this moment, Sanji feels dangerous.

Your body erupts with heat as the cook looms behind you, your eyes glued to the steaming bowl of soup displayed before you. The galley feels all too warm, and the meal before you begins to feel more like a test - a challenge - rather than a token of whatever unspoken feelings float between you and Sanji.

Without another word, Sanji’s cold fingers glide along your feverish neck, scooping up your hair in their wake. He gives his wrist a well-practiced twist, eliciting a gasp from your lips at the feeling of your hair pulled taught in his grasp. Sanji feels his ego swell, giving your hair a sharp tug. Your head is thrown back as he lowers himself to your ear.

"Go on," His scruff grazes you, and your skin is suddenly on fire.

"Eat."

Heat floods through Sanji as he watches the way your neck moves as you swallow, nodding at his command. He eases up on his grip and observes the timid way you scoop the broth into your mouth.

He catches the way your eyelids flutter closed at the taste of his meal. You liked it. You always liked his food.

Tonight, simply liking wasn't enough.

"Eating so silently? Don't you know it's rude to the chef?"

Sanji's eyes darken as your fingers twitch on the tabletop. So, he muses to himself, you think you would get away that easily?

"Don't you like it?"

"S-Sanji-"

"Don't use your words, pet. Just enjoy."

From above, he watches as the plush peaks of your breasts begin to heave quicker. You allow yourself to fully dive into the meal, this time taking noodles and broth quickly between your lips. For a moment, you seem to forget that Sanji is there. You hum, in something akin to ecstasy - Sanji had made this meal just for you, just the way you liked it.

The obscenely wet squelches of your lips slurping up his creation elicit a deep groan from the chef, fingers tightening their grip on your hair. He can't help but chuckle at the idea of Zoro sitting alone in some corner booth and nursing a drink, all while you're here sucking up and savoring Sanji's affection.

You lift your head, lips puffy from the spice and heat of the meal. Sanji presses himself into your back, as his free thumb comes around and wipes your bottom lip. Your gazes meet, and Sanji brings his thumb to his mouth - tasting remnants of your meal.

A low chuckle escapes his lips.

"What, my love? Finished already?"

You understand his insinuation, whipping your head back to your meal and bringing the ladle back to your mouth.

Eat it all up, love. Made just for you.

In a moment of weakness, Sanji gently pushes your head down.

You gag on the spoon.

Sanji moans.

His hips buck forward, desperate for friction, meeting the soft dip of your arched back. His throbbing cock digs into your back, your buttocks...Unable to compose himself, Sanji begins to rut himself against you – and you don’t protest.

Sanji knows how fowl this display looks, and yet he can’t help himself. He has wanted you - really wanted you - for so long...the idea that Zoro could possibly take you away from him was enough to drive him over the edge.

When Sanji hears your voice rumble from your chest - "nnnugh-! Sanji...!" - he swears by the heavens that he'll do anything to make you his.

His hand moves from your hair and wraps around your throat, slick with the broth that dribbles from your lips. He wishes to lick every part of your sticky, salty skin, gently squeezing your throat as you gasp out his name.

Your head lolls onto his shoulder, hand gripping the table as it shakes under the weight of Sanji's wild bucking.

Sanji is everywhere, mumbling streams of thought between hot kisses along your forehead:

"I fucking love you, you know that? Would Zoro treat you so well?"

"That pretty mouth, always teasing me - you think that's fair?"

"Just wanna fill you up with all of me, darling...Want those gorgeous lips around my cock..."

For all his talk, he fumbles and lurches forward. His hand unceremoniously lands in the bowl, soaking him up to the cuff in warm broth. You're both breathing heavily, the high beginning to wind down. However, you see your moment to gain leverage.

You grab hold of his wrist before he can think, turning your face ever so slightly to meet his.

With a twinkle in your eye, you guide his hand to your lips. Sanji's mind is a fluffy haze, unable to anticipate your next move.

"We don't waste food, right?" You purr.

You take Sanji's fingers into your velvety mouth and he practically sees stars. He has been dreaming of this exact pleasure for months, straining to keep from collapsing on top of you as your tongue swirls between his fingers.

As your cheeks hollow out around his digits, your hooded gaze keeps his in a near mocking way.

So, you had known his game all along.

Sanji's chest heaves against your back, his hot breath fanning across your face with a stutter. His inexperience shows in this moment, numb and capable of doing nothing but watching the expert way your mouth moves around his fingers.

A faint pop of your cheeks accompanies the release, a ghostly string of spit connecting his fingers to your lips. The faint moonlight catches hold of his soaked digits. Sanji inhales sharply.

His hand, frozen in your hold, is easily guided down...

down...

"I've already had my meal," you murmur.

A shiver.

His eager fingers meet your soaking, pulsing warmth.

"It's time you eat yours."

#sanji x reader #vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #one piece sanji #opla sanji #YES CHEF #Sanji is something so personal #absolute brainrot #sanji imagine #yandere sanji #this is GROSS ahaha #kinktober #kinktober 2023

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dialalagirl · 5 months ago

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Oo I looove these matchups, I didn't really conaider doing one but I saw the recent ask so I decided to do one 😖♥️

Sooo im 5"6 with a short choppy bob that is kinda messy and in my face, im pretty round overall like round eyes, round face but a sharp nose and almond lips. I'm not sure if you know about style essences but I'm a Gamine / Ingenue Essence face wise. I have dark hair and dark eyes but I like to keep myself very pale because I'm skin is super sensitive. I would say I'm a very girly looking girl but with boyish traits like my hair is right below my ears and choppy so it's adds a Boyish pixie kinds feel to me, but my overall face is girly so its a nice contrast

I usually do my makup pretty clean except for my lips that I always put a dark shade, but I kinda go a 50's kinda way with my makeup. So light skin tint, black eyeliner with some brown airbrush around my eyes and deep lips.

I'd say my style is a mix between the 50's and a Victorian Doll ( please no Kanato stay away 😭😭) I've been told by my friends that I give off a Darker version of a Vintage americana. I also take inspiration from 1920's flappers because they resemble me. But I dress in a lot of ruffles and flowey garments. Idk I have a lot of styles but overall theme is anything vinatge from 50's to Victorian is my style.

As for me! I'm also quite a yapper and just seek out talking to people it actually annoys me because then after I feel embarrassed that I talk so much, but I kinda feel like I need to carry social interactions so I'm always throwing out questions and new topics so conversation doesn't slow down. I'm really friendly and easy going, I am a " head in the clouds " type of person I always zone out or forget what I'm doing or just completely ignore people by accident and then have to apologize to them 🤦‍♀️I'm not a airhead I just am IN my head all the time so sometimes I feel like I look so lost. It kinda acts as comic relif with people ngl but hey.

Im a bit of a bubbly person maybe? Sometimes I'm not sure how I come off to people I usually I'm the " cheery, funny, talkative " girl, and I don't think im that different at home but I'm probably also a little moody, I'm naturally very anxious, always have been, over nothing so my overthinking leaves me permanently mentally tired, I'm a eldest daughter so I tend to be very hard on myself and expect a lot that I'll put so much on myself, crash out, be depressed for a bit, and do it again. I also come from a Christian home so that's another level of expectation to be a " good girl " and I actually walked away from that faith because it never aligned with me but I never told anyone because I didn't want my friends or family to ruin the image they have of me. This makes things really hard for me to have any meaningful relationship with people because I only put my best version on display

ANY ENOUGH OF MY PERSONALITY

Hobby wise~ I just scroll YouTube and Tumblr all day. I've been homeschoold since Covid so that's how I'm able to just be at home all day.

But I love music like Melanie Martinez, Artic Monkeys, Marina the Diamonds, Sabrina Carpenter, Chappell Roan, Olivia Rodrigo etc ( Honorable mentions, Diner By Billie Ellish, St, Chrome by Tylee the Creator, God is a Woman By Ariana Grande, GTFO by Doechii, and Girls by Girl in Red )

I also love art, I so character Sketches and cool makup art, I also design clothes sketches but I'm not able to sew yet to make them 😅

And I love watching Commentary and analysis videos that into pshylogicol debates and conversations. I also watch serials killer interviews because I think it's fascinating.

I also do hip hop 💃🎵

Okiii random stuff

I'm TERRIBLE at comforting people, I'm so just awkward I stand there and after the person is done talking or crying I go " yeah...😶" like girl what do I do??? 😭

Id say my love language is pshycial affection, I'll just come up behind somone and lean on them and that's my love 💓

I don't ever gossip really but I love HEARING others gossip from the side.

I'm kinda that person you need to look for honestly because I'll just disappear and nor see someone, it's not that ignoring them I'm just too lazy to go out of my way to hangout with somone, unless they come to me.

If I had to be represents by a diaboy, I'd say I'm a mix of Shuu and Laito, more so Shyu maybe a little Kou but he's a bit a bitch for me lol

nothing could piss me off more than people disregarding me, because im so nice and helpful people with just cast me with favors without even asking me, so my kindness quickly turns to an expecting and I will quickly snap and or ignore them because I hate feeling like im being treated with less respect and consideration just because im helpful. Boundaries baby we need to have them don't forget it 💅 were nice not stupid don't forget it

I think that's all! I love your page boo~ ❤️ I'm a daily visitor so I just wanna give you some love for your account ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜 take it all! Oki byeee

aw, thank you, much appreciated <33

tomato potato, potato tomato, the diaboy of your eye today? reiji

before you run for the hills, hear me out:

he goes absolutely weak in the knees for your 50's Victorian Doll look. it’s so fashionably and uniquely ladylike in a way that does not remind him of his mom, thank yezus

as someone who struggles to carry conversations through anything other than negative interactions, your positive energy--though initially annoying—becomes surprisingly infectious

alas, you’re two peas in a pod struggling to convey something other than your best self. relationships are hard, man. but, maybe with you, he finds it a little less hard

this man is the freud of the household. prep your ass for many an analytical rant. not that you mind, I imagine

trust, you have not met someone terrible at comforting people until you met this man. however, physical affection like holding hands or a warm hug fixes the problem rather well, you’ll find

finally, someone to listen to him gossip about how much he hates mothering the household and shu

say what you want about pigeon-san. he may discipline you into a proper lady, give the rare compliment, or sermon a whole ass lecture at you on manners. the last thing he’ll do? ignore you like his mother

#diabolik lovers #sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #dl matchup #i need to stop procrastinating i swear ;;#XD

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br0-k3n-sch00lb01 · 1 year ago

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they’re such idiots and i love them

What i’ve written of their story so far is under the cut.

(btw the quote is from a fic on AO3 called ‘He was in the forest looking to see the trees (but there were none) its really good go read it a)

MY OC AU. CRYSTALLIZED GARDEN.

SHIPS: Suntan (Kel x Sunny), Kimbrey (Kim x Aubrey), Bania (Basil x Opal)

MENTIONS OF ABUSE, ALCOHOL AND SUBSTANCE ABUSE, AND SELF-HARM

[...]

Basil woke up to the sound of Polly talking to someone downstairs. The other voice was feminine, but it wasn’t Aubrey.. It was too high-pitched.

‘Oh,’ He realized, ‘That’s Opal.’

He sat up and stretched, blinking in the bright sunlight shining through his window. He rubbed his eyes and slipped out of bed, opening his door and walking into the front hall. Polly was blocking most of his vision of the visitor but he already could tell, from the small bit of her he could see, it was his old friend Opal who he hadn’t seen in years.

“Opal?”

Opal turned and peeked past Polly.

“O-Oh! Hi, Basil!”

Polly stepped away.

“I’ll let you two catch up.”

Basil stared at Opal for a moment. She looked different, but he couldn’t quite tell why. She was taller, but of course that was normal. He noticed her left eye was covered by a lacy white eyepatch. That was the difference- she hadn’t had that before. He wondered what happened for a moment.

“...Wow. It’s really you. It’s been years…”

Opal smiled sheepishly.

“Haha, yeah, I guess I did kinda kick AWOL for a while there… after Mari…”

Basil’s breath sped up. He tried not to let her see.

“Y-Yeah… So did Sunny.”

Opal nodded.

“I noticed that.”

Basil walked towards her, and then realized he was at least a few inches shorter than her.

“...So… Have you gone and visited anyone else, or…”

“Nope! You were the first one I came to see!”

Basil’s face tinted a faint shade of red.

“O-Oh… um…”

There was an awkward silence as they both stared at each other.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Basil woke up outside. At his picnic table in his garden, with his hat resting gently on his frizzy blonde hair.

He heard the gate creak and felt a shadow in front of him, another person standing there. Opal sat on the bench across from him.

“Hi, Opal.”

Opal sighed, putting her chin in her hands and looking downcast.

“Hi, Basil…”

“You disappeared again. You okay? You were gone for at least a month there.”

She looked up at him.

“I’m fine. How’s everyone been? Aubrey’s been nicer to you, I hope…”

Basil sighed.

“Yes. Unfortunately, Sunny relapsed and now he’s locked up in his house again.. I haven’t checked on him yet… I’m a bit scared to, to be immediately honest…”

Opal smiled gently.

“Wanna go do that together, then?”

Basil glanced at the clock on his back porch. 11:42 AM.

“Sure.”

Opal stood up and waited for him at the gate. He stood up as well, his entire body aching with exhaustion for days without sleep. He joined her and she grabbed his hand, leading him along, towards Sunny’s house just down the road, even though he knew the way just fine himself. His face went red as he realized they were holding hands but he said nothing, holding back a squeak. When they got to Sunny’s house, Opal let go of his hand and knocked on the door. There was nothing. She stood there for a moment, and just as Basil was about to say they should just leave, Sunny’s front door opened a crack and you could barely see Sunny peeking out at them from the pitch darkness of his house. He squinted in the sunlight. His eyes were bloodshot, his longish hair was messy, and his arms were wrapped with relatively frayed bandages. Red lines stood out against his pale skin where his arms weren’t covered. Basil winced. Opal reached inside and yanked Sunny into a tight hug. Sunny let out a startled noise. He glanced at Basil. Opal set him down and she asked Sunny how he was. Sunny signed back, [I’m alright, thanks Opal.]

Opal smiled.

(square brackets mean sign language) >>[Do you want to come hang out with us?]

[...Sure. Where are we going?]

[I was planning on getting Hero, Kel, and Aubrey and maybe we can all get something at the ice cream parlor.]

[Ah, okay. Sure.]

Basil watched this with interest. He knew Sunny preferred using sign language to talk since his voice was weak from not speaking for so long. He wasn’t aware Opal was this fluent, though.

“Opal, you’re really good at ASL.��

Opal turned. Sunny signed to Basil.

[I noticed too. She’s almost more skilled than I am… and I use it all the time.]

Basil thought back to his knowledge of the language and awkwardly signed,

[Yeah. I think she’s good at it. But you too.]

Sunny smiled at him.

[I am good, sillies. Don’t pretend I wasn’t watching your conversation.]

Basil looked up at Opal.

“Anyways, you guys wanna go? We can go get the others now.”

[Yeah, let’s go.]

“Sure.”

AFTER GATHERING EVERYONE. AND HEADING TO THE ICE CREAM PARLOR.

Sunny and Kel were sitting, sharing a chocolate milkshake, signing enthusiastically to each other. Opal was sipping gently on the strawberry milkshake she had ordered for her and Basil to share. Basil realized he was still holding her hand. Aubrey and Hero were talking to each other about politics or something, which Basil immediately shut out. He didn’t want to hear about the government and what they were doing about LQBTQ+ situation in Faraway.

“You okay, Bas?”

Basil turned and looked over at Opal, who was gazing at him. He stared at her for a moment and then blushed fiercely before realizing he was supposed to answer.

“U-Um, yeah, I-I’m fine, t-thanks-”

Opal stared at him for a moment more, her visible blue eye feeling like a pin sticking into his soul. He smiled awkwardly.

“Okay. You haven’t even thought about drinking any of this shake, have you? Better try it before I drink it all.”

Basil sat there for a second.

“Oh. Um. Yes, okay.”

He sipped from his straw, the cold sweetness filling his mouth and he winced.

“Owww…”

“Brainfreeze?”

“YES.”

Opal laughed and ruffled his hair. He blushed intensely.

“Ah. Um. It’s fine, though.”

“I know!! Just messing with you.”

He laughed a bit. A flash of movement from Sunny across the table caught his eye and he looked up.

[Look at you two lovebirds. How sweet.]

Basil turned even deeper red.

[No! We’re not 'lovebirds'!!]

[Yeah, right.]

Opal glanced up and watched them.

[Sunny, I’m not sure how I feel about your choice of words…]

[I was stating it as it is, Opal.]

[Sunny…]

[What? Don’t blame me.]

[I- I wasn’t blaming you, I was just…]

[See what I mean?]

Neither Basil or Opal responded to that and Sunny smirked.

“We’re just friends, Sunny.” Opal said.

Sunny rolled his eyes.

[If you say so, Princess.]

Kel frowned at Sunny.

“How about you give it a rest, sunshine?”

Sunny huffed and crossed his arms. [Fine.]

Opal went back to scrolling through a fanfic on AO3 and drinking the milkshake. She had a rather bored expression on her face as she did so. Basil watched her.

“Whatcha reading?”

Opal turned.

“Oh… it’s just a short fic that I found… nothing really.”

She didn’t elaborate so Basil leaned over her shoulder and read it along with her.

‘Bound by the hands of the unwilling mortician, the Liar is bound. A chrysanthemum phantasm who weeps lovely promises intended to be whispered into the ears of the Creator that instead become abused when they abnormally shift into terrifying pleads that repeat and repeat but never mean anything. They leave the Creator only displeased and make the greedy thumbs of the chains dig until iris blossoms beautifully beneath their pads and make the Liar squeal in discomfort.’

Basil stared at it for a moment. The vocabulary didn’t make sense to him despite him reading old classic literature constantly. He was surprised Opal was reading something so elaborate.

“Wow…” He breathed out.

Opal turned towards him again.

“Hm?”

Basil flinched.

“Nothing,” He said, “Sorry. Just impressed at what you’re reading.”

Opal nodded.

“Ah. Okay.”

There was silence except for Hero and Aubrey’s conversation. They had changed the topic so Basil listened in.

“...Worried about him. I know he hasn’t been doing well lately, and Basil told me he relapsed about a week ago. None of us went to check on him and he didn’t come outside until Basil and Opal went to get him.” Hero was speaking.

“So you’re saying Sunny might have locked himself inside for another 4 years if nobody came for him?”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m saying. I think he may be going back into that shell… I don’t want that. It’s not good for his mental state or his physical one.”

It went on like this.

Basil tuned them out again. He didn’t want to hear that.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

THAT NIGHT

Basil and Opal had dropped everyone off at their houses. It was around 11:30 PM. They had all gone to see a movie together, but it was a late showing, and the theater was relatively far away. When they got outside Opal’s house, she paused. They could both hear her parents drunkenly screaming at each other, since the bedroom window was open. Opal looked pale, like she was about to have a panic attack. Basil squeezed her hand gently.

“You alright?”

Opal stared back at him, her eyes glassy and tear-filled.

“I don’t wanna go in there…”

Basil sighed.

“You could stay the night at my house, if you like.”

“Y-You’re sure? Would- would Polly be okay with it?”

“Of course. Polly is nice, and she’ll understand.”

Opal sighed.

“That would be nice.”

Basil smiled at her and they walked down the dark street together, their echoing footsteps the only sound except for occasional cars.

“Opal, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“...I-Is your- do your parents always fight like that?”

Opal smiled sadly.

“They’re always like that, yes. Although I'm not surprised seeing as they’re abusive.. So…”

Basil’s eyes widened.

“They are?? A-Are you okay?!”

“Yes, yes!! I’m fine! It didn’t hurt at all after a while. I got used to it.”

#omori #omori oc #omori fanfic #oc fanfiction #bro #this is a cry for help

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exildesanges · 2 years ago

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red lipstick smudged // lewis x sebastian

Rating: Mature

Summary: He kissed Sebastian’s cheek, his jaw, his throat, anywhere he could put his mouth on until the lipstick only left faint marks on Sebastian’s skin.

or: Sebastian put lipstick on Lewis and they make out.

Word Count: 1k

Tags: making out, lipstick

A/N: please read the ao3 notes!! its kinda long and i didn't want to clog up the notes here!!

m.list // ao3 link

Sebastian uncaps the tube and twists the lipstick, Lewis looks at him, unsure but willing, before parting his lips a bit. Sebastian begins with a stripe across his plump bottom lip, and Lewis immediately freezes, breathing a little faster.

The air around them becomes heavy as Sebastian carefully applies the creamy color, now following the line of his cupid's bow. Lewis doesn’t know what’s going on, or what switch has just been flipped, but he finds it hard to ignore the way his body shivers. They’re so close yet not close enough.

He throws a quick glance at the man in front of him before looking at the ceiling. Sebastian was concentrating on the task at hand, brows furrowed and the tip of his pink tongue peeking out of his mouth. Lewis was starting to tremble a little, hands gripping the hem of his shirt when Sebastian put his hand under his chin, holding his head up so he could apply the lipstick better.

He ignores how fast his heart is beating.

He concentrates on the ceiling and tries not to focus on how their knees are touching, and the warmth radiating off Sebastian.

“Here," Sebastian says after some time, breaking the silence between them, and putting the cap back on the lipstick.

Lewis blink a few times, smacking his lips together carefully. It was a weird sensation, something he definitely wasn't used to but it was surprisingly pleasant. The creamy texture was heavy but not too much, it was different from the usual chapsticks and light lip glosses that he never really felt on his lips. This was something else, something that made him squirm a bit, the feeling of the lipstick like a hot brand against his lips.

"So? How does it look?" his voice was small, unsure, looking up at Sebastian with a hint of nervousness behind his eyes. The other cleared his throat. Before him was Lewis. In all of his breathtaking, natural glory. With deep red lipstick coating his tempting plump lips that he always wanted to taste.

Sebastian can't lie, he does look good, no, he looks absolutely ravishing. The overall outcome is unexpectedly elegant, kind of messy given that Sebastian never put lipstick on before, and especially not on someone else but it was still so lovely.

"It looks really good actually," he told him gently, careful to speak slowly, and smiled in a way he hoped was reassuring to Lewis.

"Do you want to take a look?” he gestures to the mirror on the wall. Lewis nods and gets up from the bed, soon followed by Sebastian.

When he sees himself, he can't help the way his brain short-circuits.

Sebastian actually did a good job applying the lipstick, it looks a bit clumsy and messy around his lower lip, but still pretty good for a first time. His lips look fuller, pillowy, and soft in a way they never looked before. He likes the color. Not too bright, not too dark, the perfect red wine color. It suits him.

It is actually wild how stunning he looks, all pretty eyes, smooth skin, and wine red lips.

He ignores his shaky hands and fast beating heart, again.

He squeezes his eyes shut and turns away from the mirror, standing there until Sebastian summons the courage to speak up.

"You look so beautiful."

Lewis opens his eyes back up to stare at Sebastian, his gaze questioning. No words coming out of his mouth.

"It's really lovely, you look beautiful, I almost want to kiss you," Sebastian says honestly, slowly backing Lewis up against the mirror, "Can I?"

“Please.”

It was just a small kiss, something light and hesitant, but it still made something stir deep inside Lewis. They pulled away soon enough, Sebastian's lips tinted red.

The second kiss was far less hesitant, much hungrier. Lewis doesn't process it at first, the way their chest touched, the way his hold tighten on Sebastian’s shirt, the way he is being held firmly as if Sebastian was scared he would somewhat slip out of his hands. They kiss with so much desperation, hot and messy, licking and biting at each other’s mouths like starved men. The perfect balance between rough, almost animalistic, and still sweet. Everything tasted sweet, red lipstick smudged everywhere around their mouths.

A small sound escaped Lewis as they broke the kiss. His head spins, and for a moment the world stops.

He kissed Sebastian’s cheek, his jaw, his throat, anywhere he could put his mouth on until the lipstick only left faint marks on Sebastian’s skin.

"Fuck, it's all over your mouth," Sebastian whispers, bringing a hand up to smudge what was left of the lipstick, the pad of his fingers gently smearing the lipstick all over his mouth. Elegant red on his skin giving Lewis that completely sinful appearance. Lewis, feeling bold, gave Sebastian’s fingertips a small kitten lick and sucked one finger into his mouth, lips shiny and red.

They kissed again, and again, until it was getting harder to breathe.

They broke the kiss again. Lewis closed his eyes, a hand was at his jaw, and he let himself melt completely against Sebastian. They both took deep shaky breaths, not bothering to hide how turned on they were pressed up against each other, warm and desperate.

“Seb,” Lewis breathes out, soft eyes looking at the man in front of him and he thinks he might pass out at the sight. Sebastian’s red stained lips curled into a heart stopping smile, smudges painting the corners of his pretty mouth, bold and dark kiss marks all over him.

“Lewis,” he replies back with a small chuckle before leaning in and placing small kisses down Lewis throat, biting at his skin and licking the faint teeth marks he left as an apology, eliciting soft whines from Lewis.

"I want to mess you up even more," Sebastian speaks into his ear, pushing a leg between Lewis’ thighs who immediately grinds down on it.

♡

#exildesanges #fanfiction #sewis #lewis hamilton #sebastian vettel #sewis fic

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sukiglycerin · 5 years ago

Text

birds (not) of a feather || keigo takami.

* pairing: hawks x fem pro-hero!reader

* genre: canonverse(???), terribly indulgent smut, pwp, enemies w benefits

* words: 3,111

* warnings: i just packed a shitload of kinks into this, dom!hawks, sub!reader, daddy kink, dirty talk, semi-public sex (a bathroom), quirk play aka feather play (not tickling), reader is kiNda a brat, fingering, orgasm denial, cum eating, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (pls.,., wrap it before you tap it irl), degradation, breeding kink, humiliation, dumbification, creampie, aftercare (duh), i’m so sorry for this i’ll finish my sfw angst thing now

* a/n: inspired by this text post... oh god, this is filthy. apologies for the slightly late update, but here it finally is!! @toishi is an absolute angel for proofreading this at like 1 in the morning. i hope you enjoy this! if you liked this, feel free to request anything you’d like to see from me <3

there was something about hawks that was infuriating. you couldn't tell exactly what was the breaking point; his messy hair, his plush smirk, or his eyes. his eyes, typically glazed over with a mixture of cockiness and devil-may-care hawtiness, were perhaps the most charming part to him, if you asked any fangirl. the markings around them only made him prettier, but infuriatingly so; and when you put together the entire package of 'hawks,' you got an extremely punchable person.

yet sometimes, during extremely rare instances - perhaps when the light hits him just right or when one of his feathers is placed just perfectly - the word 'punchable' is replaced with 'fuckable.' and when you say fuckable, you mean him fucking you. it only aggravates you more.

you can't recall exactly when you started hating him or exactly when you became fuckbuddies (well, more like fuckenemies), but what you can recall is that the closets at hawks' agency are unreasonably large. not that they can't be used to your advantage, on multiple occasions (especially when hawks ruts). you're sitting next to hawks as some entrepreneur attempts to sell his ideas to market heroes and gain more profit. none of the pro-heroes sitting in the room seem particularly engaged. you're practically falling asleep; hawks' doodles on your notepad keeping you awake. you can't exactly complain, though the doodles take up space on an otherwise blank page, it's entertaining. you're far past gone being alert, however; your eyelids droop one last time before you see an oddly phallic shaped doodle behind your eyelashes. goddamn hawks.

"really?" you hiss at him, pushing his hand away.

he shrugged, lazily smiling. "you like it."

"like what? lewd imagery in my work notepad?"

"no." his voice drops an octave, fatally gravelly, "my cock."

you flush at his obscene language. "don't-" you whisper, but you're cut off by hawks' muffled giggles as he points to another one of his doodles. a rooster. you purse your lips. ever-so immature, hawks.

"yeah, but i bet you like the first one a lot more, don'tcha, chickadee?" his pet name has your brain stuttering. "you like my cock so much, hm?"

"fuck you, hawks," you breathe.

"you can try, feather." his voice is dripping with cockiness. "i bet, even in professional times like these, you think about my cock. in business meetings, you look so professional, so serious, but little does everyone know - you're dreaming about my cock stretching your tight little cunt out, making you scream my goddamn name. i bet you salivate just thinking about my cock fucking you good, hm? isn't that right, chickadee?"

you huff, not meeting his eyes as you search for a witty comeback. your silence gives hawks' ego a boost; he smirks wider.

"you know it's true, huh?" he purrs. "you think of me wherever you go. in public, filing paperwork, when you touch yourself in bed... you just like it so much, you're my slut. who knew the nation's favorite pro-hero would drop to her knees to the sight of anyone's cock?"

"yeah, i touch myself whenever i think of you," you mutter saltily under your breath. you ignore the growing arousal in your panties at his provocative words. hawks goes quiet, eyes wide.

"more specifically, i rub my temples because i get a headache because you're so damn awful."

"well fuck, dove," he chuckles. he leans in close to your ear. "maybe i'll give you something to think about."

a shiver curls itself down your spine. "hawks-"

he hushes you, jotting something in your notepad. he excuses himself from the room, leaving a feather laying on his seat in place of him. you read the note. "women's bathroom, down the hall to the left. no one uses it."

a pump of adrenaline fills you; your heart skips a beat.

once you slip out, your heart plays a game of jump rope, the rhythm filling your ears. down the hall, to the left... you wonder what hawks has in store for you. your brain recreates images of past escapades you engaged in with the man; a quickie in his office, another in an alley, and once, him fucking you just before a meeting. your panties grow damper, unable to mask the anticipation you feel within yourself.

"hi, sweetpea," hawks cooes as soon as you enter the restroom. "fancy seeing you here."

"you invited-"

"hush, i didn't give you permission to speak, did i?" he snaps. "good girls who behave are rewarded."

a whimper slips out of you, and you nod.

"safeword, birdie?"

"sunflower."

"good girl." he hums. "so obedient, once disciplined... maybe i should do this more. i bet you'd like that... being such a slut when anyone could walk in." "hawks..." you start, but he doesn't have it.

the hero stalks toward you. if eyes could kill, you'd be murdered within seconds; his irises are dark, pupils blown, and a shadow has fallen over his face. he looks predatory like this - truly living up to his name. it's graceful, the self-control he assumes whence walking toward you.

said self-control is completely abandoned as soon as your bodies meet. you're completely enraptured in his shadow as the man loomed over you, his wings contributing greatly to the effect. he's the predator, and you're the prey.

his arm separates your neck from the wall, his hand clutching the back of your head. the free hand moves itself to caress your jaw in a strangely gentle manner, while his knee pushes its way in between your legs, making your upper thighs into a home. his hand nudges your head forward towards his, and then you're kissing him with such ferocity it's animalistic. tongues clash and you're no longer sure whose spit is whose; it dribbles down your chin the way blood drips from the thirsty lips of a vampire.

hawks growls - he actually growls - while he hastily unbuttons your top and slips his tongue into your mouth. you shamelessly grind down against his clothed pant leg, careless that your wetness will leave a stain.

he pulls away, a string of saliva snapping between you and leaving you two gasping for breath.

"fuck, fuck, baby bird," hawks wipes his mouth with his sleeve. his lips are swollen, their colour resembling a cherry lollipop with a sheen of gloss. damn, he's pretty. you never realized how good-looking a guy in a suit could be. his eyes are darker than a raven's, and it looks as though he'll devour you whole.

"come." hawks gestures for you, walking towards the sinks and large mirror above them. as soon as you near a foot from hawks, he grabs you, one hand on your waist and the other on your throat.

"look at you..." he tsks, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. you're completely disheveled, hair a mess and eyes blown dark. your top is wrinkled slightly, your breasts peaking out through the unbuttoned gap and your skirt pushed up.

"so messy already..." the hand on your waist moves up and squeezes your breast, tweaking a nipple through your bra.

"you just fucking melt for me, like a good whore," he says.

oh, how you hate how easily hawks can win you over.

"fuck you," you scoff half-heartedly. "are you gonna fuck me, or not? we don't have all day."

"won't be a problem, lovebird," he says breezily. "judging by how much you fucking soaked my pant leg, i could have you coming undone without my cock even touching your dirty cunt.

you glance at his thigh, which has a blatant dark spot on it, and feel your heart race in humiliation. you can only stay silent, knowing he's right. the sensation in your core is painfully obvious to you, as if taunting you more.

"obeying now?" he teases, a wicked smile gracing his face. "bend over the counter, sweetpea."

you huff, obliging. hawks deftly moves his fingers, unbuttoning your shirt. you shiver, your hot skin colliding with the cold, unforgiving marble.

"spread your legs - good, good, like that..." his breath tickles your ear, "you like how the air touches your sopping pussy? how exposed you fucking feel, all spread out for me when anyone could walk in? me, the number 2 pro-hero..." god, he was so cocky it was infuriating.

"shut up," you grumble.

"what?" his voice is sharp, cutting clean through the air. "is that anyway to treat your daddy?"

you fucking hate the title. you hate how hawks harnesses it as his own, how he so personifies the word - how good it fits him, sounding like sugar off his lips.

two of his fingers meet your clothed folds. "answer me, birdie."

"n-no," you squeak out.

"no, who?" he spits.

"no, daddy."

you inch your head up to look in the mirror, and hawks is smiling.

"what to do with you, what to do with you..." he sounds gleeful, sadistic undertones tinting his words with a faded rose red. so pretty, yet so painful. your head goes back down onto the counter, your cheek pressed against it.

"naughty birds deserve punishment, don'tcha think?"

you can't find it in yourself to form a coherent word; instead, a clumsy moan falls from your lips. hawks' fingers press harder against your cunt; you're sure they've gotten at least a little damp.

compromised in such a position, your senses make you suddenly aware of your surroundings; the way the counter digs into your hips, how the coolness is starting to fade under your body. you're aware of your every breath, the fluttering in your stomach every time hawks presses your clit. you're aware of the inherent eroticism of your acts, and how you don't really hate hawks; no, no, no - how he just infuriates you.

he's the ideal hero, in your eyes - laidback, charming, and yet so skilled at his work. it amazes you. one can only strive to be so multifaceted, and it explains his status as number 2 hero. you work so hard, yet he can achieve all the things you dream in half a heartbeat.

"let's get these out of the way." hawks, hooking a digit into the band of your panties, forces them down in an instant. you instinctively clench at the air which meets your nether lips, your juices leaking out of them like a honeyed nectar.

"so messy," hawks comments. "can't even control yourself without your panties. you like being such a slut for daddy, huh?"

you grumble in protest.

"huh?" his index and ring finger plunge into your pussy, making a loud squelching sound.

"d-daddy," you blurt a moan out, falling apart on his fingers.

"that's more like it, feather." hawks sets a moderate pace on your pussy, curling to hit your sweet spot. the noises from your cunt and mouth fail to cease, and you throw a hand over the latter to muffle your whimpers.

you start to feel a burning sensation rise in your stomach; a toe-curling, warm feeling like sunlight shining in the morning.

"daddy, daddy, hngg- i'm so close."

you're so close to the sunlight, to being showered in the blissful heat. just one more stroke and-

you're suddenly empty, and the light starts to slowly recede.

"daddy!" you complain, shifting your legs and rubbing your thighs together. "bad birds get punishment," he shrugs. "though i must say... you like it when i bend you over the counter, huh? your little pussy is dripping all over it for me, and i've barely touched you... i bet you're getting off to this right now; when anyone could walk in, huh? filthy slut. you're already begging for more... hm, maybe i should make you lick up the mess you've made..."

"d-addy, no, i've taken my punishment, please let me cum..."

hawks sounded indifferent, as if he were merely studying his nails. "beg for it."

"wh-" you clench your hands in your skirt. you do not particularly enjoy begging - for anything or anyone. despite the pulsing in your cunt, and how hard it is not to give in, you don't want to give hawks the satisfaction of winning. "p-psh, didn't really need your cock anyway..." you grumble. you exhale quietly, calming the adrenaline pumping in your blood from the loss of your orgasm.

something in him changes, and a scarlet feather tickles your lips. you're confused; what does hawks want you to do?

"suck."

you exhale in confusion, blowing the feather away. "suck?"

you crane your neck up at the mirror to catch a glimpse of hawks. he looks deadly - there's no other way to put it. his eyes are sharply trained on you, his wings buff and towering over him. you think you see a bulge in his pants, straining for freedom.

"well?" the feather dusts your lips once again, teasing you to trap it in between your lips. your head drops, falling against the counter. you open your mouth, and the tip of the feather rests on your tongue. your lips close around it, and you hesitantly suck. you're not sure what you were expecting; it's a feather, soft and flimsy in your mouth.

you jolt at an indistinct tickling feeling against your clit. you look back, feather hanging out of your mouth, to see hawks leaning back on a stall. he's not within reach to touch you, so...

"hng!" the foreign object presses your clit. the pressure strengthens against your tight bundle of nerves, and you can feel your slick drip out of you even more. a feather; though hawks made the consistency a bit more solid. the feather pushes against your pussy like a seesaw, making you reach for your high. you shut your eyes tight, lost in the feeling and desperate for release. the feather drags up and down your cunt, eliciting lewd noises, while your lips are clamped shut around the feather in your mouth. saliva pools in your mouth the more the feather teases your wet sex, and the familiar build of tension starts in your stomach. you yearn for the heat returned in full, to be so fulfilled in pleasure, and you rut against the feather in an attempt to reach your climax faster. the stimulation is suddenly gone, leaving you crying out.

"look at this," hawks sneers. a single, wet feather, dripping in a substance far thicker than water hovers in front of you. "open your mouth."

the feather slips out, and is replaced with a salty tasting one.

the taste of your arousal fills your tongue, and before you're given time to dwell on it, you feel warmth pressing against the back of your thighs. there's a clanking of metal, a shuffle of fabric, and you feel the tip of hawks' cock pressing against you.

"look at you, baby, so desperate for a fuckin' feather," he rasps in your ear. "should i show you how much better my cock is? hmm?"

you nod dumbly, the feather bobbing with you.

"fuck," he groans, pushing himself into your depths. "so wet, so- slick- goddamn baby bird, you like it when i stuff you full of this cock?"

you hum a noise against the feather in your mouth, agreeing. he slipped into your pussy smoothly, lubricated by the abundance of your slick. once in, snuggled in deep, something in the man's composure snaps; he thrusts mercilessly, pounding deep in you. his fingers hold your hips, bruising them, you're sure - and the pain is sweet, a sick lolly against your tongue.

"fuck, fuck, daddy's gonna fuck his babies into you, betcha'd like that, huh?" you can't articulate your words properly with the feather in your mouth, but you attempt to agree. he doesn't care, continuing with his degradation.

"you're gonna give me my chicks, huh? be my bitch," he pants heavily. god, you can just imagine how he looks; hair falling onto his sweat-matted forehead, his eyes completely lascivious. a wanton moan spills from your mouth, and the feather falls, but hawks doesn't make notice of this. he continues to slam into you, pace unforgiving, burying himself to the hilt inside of you. squelching noises fill the bathroom, echoing off the walls.

you can only moan and clench around him unintelligently.

"look at you... all fuckin' stupid and obedient, all for daddy, hm? so willing to let daddy use you as a cumdump, daddy's personal- fucking- cumslut- but you like that, huh? your pretty pussy's clenching around me. you like being talked down to, don'tcha? such a dirty slut. look at that, you're drooling."

two of hawks' fingers shove themselves into your mouth, and you salivate around them. it's messy, you know, and spit trails down your chin.

"look at me, chickadee," he commands. you crane your neck to look at him, eyes wide. "fuck, so slutty," he grunts. "you really like this, don't you? fuck- exposing your fucking cunt to every guy, huh? being used as nothing but a filthy fucktoy?"

you shake your head rapidly in disagreement, cheeks heating up.

"no?" he chuckles darkly. "just my fucktoy, then?"

you reluctantly nod.

"my stupid lil baby... so pretty with daddy's fingers shoved in her mouth..." he coos, and a surprising, fuzzy feeling emerges from the praise.

his unoccupied hand reaches down in between your thighs to stimulate your clit, rubbing fast circles against the bud. warmth pools and ties a knot in your stomach. the sugared indulgence of release that you'd so craved comes into view; the knot tightening and tightening and you feel fit to burst.

"c-cum for me, baby bird, cum for me, y/n," he stutters, making a guttural sound in the back of his throat. the fingers in your mouth pull out, falling onto your hips. the tight knot bursts into violent fireworks of ecstasy; your cunt gushes around hawks' cock, convulsing madly. the pleasure shatters you, and everything becomes a haze. you go limp against the counter, thighs shaking. you're not sure how much time has passed - hawks had been fucking you through orgasm, and, at one point, came as well.

"hey, feather," he whispers gently to you. "you did so well for me..." he strokes your back, making a plethora of calming coos and humming sounds

"did so well," you mumble.

"don't worry about anything, dove, i've got it all handled."

your thoughts are all fog, and you allow yourself to lean into hawks. this is one of the rare times you're vulnerable completely to him; at his mercy, after a particularly hard session. rather, it's one of the rare moments that your true feelings are revealed; how your hatred is baseless, built on jealousy and attraction you deny.

not that you'll admit it.

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so-long-soldier28 · 4 years ago

Text

Pomegranate Juice

summary: it's a friday, which means there's a lacrosse game at dalton, and jeff wants his two best friends to watch with him. he finds them in the cafeteria, eating the messiest fruit he's seen in his life. learning the game is starting soon, blaine heads to the bathroom to get cleaned up. enter sebastian, who becomes incredibly concerned about the mysterious redness on blaine's hands and questions him insistently about it.

pairing: blaine anderson x sebastian smythe

word count: ~1.5k

warnings: pomegranate juice mistaken for bl00d (should that be a warning?) (am i allowed to say that word w/o being scolded by tumblr?)

note: this is kind of stupid but i got the idea from a picture on tumblr and bam! wrote the whole thing even though i have six other wips to finish

“Dude, that’s so messy,” Nick looks over to his friend.

“I know, but it’s so good,” Blaine responds, handing him a piece.

He takes it and peels the seeds from the skin, staining his fingers in the process.

Blaine has been munching on the pomegranate fruit for a while now, causing his fingers to be a dark red. The juice has run down his arm and dripped onto the table, with the paper towel he laid underneath saturated, obviously failing at its job. At first he tried to control the mess, but soon gave up.

Just then, Jeff comes over to remind them of the day’s plans, “are you guys still watching the lacrosse game? It’s home so you don’t really have an excuse to miss it. Unless you’re too busy with whatever the hell that is.”

“You’ve never seen pomegranate?” Nick questions.

“I’ve seen it, not as a fruit, just as seeds. Didn’t know it would make you look like a vampire when you tried to eat it.”

“You didn’t recognize it? Fruit of the gods; Persephone?” Blaine asks, to which he shakes his head ‘no’, “Don’t you pay attention in English? We just had a mythology lesson.”

He just shrugs, “is that why you’re eating it?”

“No, it’s good. Try.” Blaine peels off another piece and hands it to Jeff, who’s face looks incredible unsure of the fruit he’s being given. Nevertheless, he tries a seed, and joins the pink-hands-club.

“I guess it is good. But we still have that lacrosse game, so get ready. It’s in, like, twenty minutes and I want my friends with me.”

“Ok, yeah, let me go wash my hands,” Blaine says, getting up from his seat, “Nick, you?”

He shakes his head and starts licking his fingers instead.

“Oh my god,” Blaine mutters, then heads to the bathroom alone.

On the way down the hall, he keeps his hands up like a doctor does to remain sterile. Though in his situation, he’s just trying to keep the juice from dripping off onto the extravagant floor. He links his arm around the door to pull it open and finally reaches the sink. The water began to wash down some of it, but most had already dried on his skin. Blaine sighs, realizing it would take two or three rounds of soap to get it all gone.

Behind him, he hears one of the bathroom doors open, then the sink turn on and soap dispenser vibrate. He doesn’t think much of it, assuming the person will just wash his hands and go, but he forgets his hands look kinda like a crime scene.

Suddenly, he hears, “oh my god, Blaine!” and the person rushes over to inspect his arm. He looks over to see Sebastian, wearing a frantic expression on his face.

Caught of guard, Blaine reassures, “oh no, it’s no big deal.”

“What? You’re bleeding; are you okay? Wait, I can get a teacher,” he makes a dash for the door.

“No, no, Sebastian!” He yells quickly, before the boy can disappear, “it’s not blood, see?”

He pumps the dispenser twice, then points his hands at Sebastian, rubbing them together. The soap turns pink. He rinses his hands, which are now a dilute shade of red rather than the burgundy they were seconds prior. Sebastian, however, just gives him a blank stare, not fully convinced.

“Seb, it’s okay.”

He gets more soap and scrubs down his arms. The soap turns pink again, but the tint is lighter. The second time Blaine rinses, his fingers and arms are clean.

Sebastian moves forward and watches the bubbles swarm the drain. He looks at Blaine, then grabs his hand again to check for a wound site.

“It’s just pomegranate juice, Seb, it’s okay. I’m okay. I promise.”

For a second, it looks like Sebastian might relax. But then he catches Blaine off guard again with, “prove it.”

“What?”

“Show me.”

“Alright, come on.”

Blaine dries his hands and double-checks he got it all. Then, he leads Sebastian out and back into the cafeteria. The bare fruit skin is still on the table, surrounded in juice.

Once again, Sebastian just stares. Blaine walks away for a second to grab a clorox wipe from the counter. He wipes up the juice which makes it red now, like his hands had just been.

“You sure you’re okay?” Sebastian asks again.

“Just fruit juice, baby,” the other boy finally relaxes, letting out an audible sigh of relief. Blaine adds, “sorry to freak you out.”

A moment later, Jeff comes into view.

“Baby? What’s that about?”

“Just a nickname, calm down. We aren’t anything if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“Yet.”

Blaine expects the retort to come from Sebastian. When he hears the comment, but doesn’t see his lips move, he is shocked.

Jeff, however, acts like nothing happened.

“Come on, we gotta get to that game. And you,” he points at Sebastian, “gotta play in that game.”

“Yeah I know I left something in my room and then made a bathroom run. And then got distracted by this boy and his bloody arm, which was just some fucking fruit.”

Blaine glances up, afraid by his use of profanity that he’d upset Sebastian somehow. The little gremlin is smirking, though, when Blaine meets his eye.

“Okay well I’m saving seats. Blaine, when you finish cleaning your,” he gestures widely to the table, “mess, find Nick and meet me outside.”

“Where is Nick?”

“Man, I don’t know, you two are always wandering and I can never find you.” Without further details, he leaves the cafeteria.

“It’s not a total mess, most of it was on my hands,” Blaine grumbles as he throws the pomegranate skin in the trash beside him.

“I should get to my game so that Jeff has something to watch.” Sebastian grins.

“Okay, I’ll actually walk with you and see if Nick’s in the main hall.”

The boys walk side-by-side out into the hall. They’re nearing the door through which Sebastian would walk to get out to the field, when he stops and turns to Blaine.

“We could be something,”

“What?”

“If you want. I’m serious. I also don’t want to push you. But we could,”

Blaine watches his face for clues to tell him what the boy’s referencing, “uhh, ohh.” It hits him. The nickname. Jeff’s comment.

“I’m totally fine with what we have. I don’t want to lose you as a friend. Forget I said it.”

“No, no, no, let’s try. I missed me chance last year, I’m not letting my second one slip by me.”

“Really?” Sebastian asks, unsure he’s hearing him properly.

“Really.” Blaine confirms, smiling.

Sebastian returns the smile, then runs out the door. Before Blaine can even turn around, though, Sebastian pops his head back into the hallway.

“Good luck kiss before I go?”

Blaine shakes his head, “come here”.

Sebastian comes back over and wraps his arms around Blaine’s waist, then captures his lips. He’s wanted this for so long and Blaine can tell from his passion. Blaine, who once had a tiny crush but is now head-over-heels for him, reaches up to his neck to deepen the kiss. It is intense and hungry, yet full of love. It reminds Sebastian of Paris, and the smell of roses and freshly baked bread. Blaine thinks of long drives with music blasting, and picking strawberries on hot days. Home. The kiss feels like each boy’s own reminder of home.

By the time they break away, both are out of breath. They stare into each other’s eyes, cliché, but can’t help themselves.

“Perfect,” Sebastian finally says. He runs back outside with a new burst of energy with which to win the game.

Blaine, still flabbergasted, spots Nick coming down the stairs.

“Hey, Nick! Ready to go?” He half jogs over to him, still dizzy from the kiss.

“Yeah, sorry I was changing my shirt. I got juice on it. Oh, and don’t think I didn’t see that.”

“Oh shut up!” Blaine laughs, rolling his eyes.

“It was only a matter of time.”

They reach the side door.

“Ok if you reach the stands first, I will shut up. But if I reach first, I’m telling Jeff,” Nick says, taking off in a full sprint.

“Wait hold on, what?” Blaine yells after him. Realizing he’s not stopping, he chases after the other boy, “Nick! Don’t do it!” he pauses, “wait, if I wanted to be running right now, I’d be fucking playing lacrosse!”

Halfway across the field, he gives up and walks. He sees Nick over by the bleachers, hand cupped into Jeff’s ear, who’s smile is getting wider and wider. Sighing deeply, Blaine gazes around him. To his delight, he catches the eye of Sebastian, who gives him a quick wink before going back to his teammates. Blaine feels himself grinning like an idiot as he reaches the bleachers. There, Nick and Jeff tackle him in a hug, making overexaggerated kissing sounds. Too happy to care, Blaine shakes his head and turns his attention to Sebastian as the game begins.

#blaine anderson #sebastian smythe #sebastian smythe x blaine anderson #seblaine fic #glee fics #dalton academy #glee #another glee post #sebastian is a puppy and i love him

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boonki · 4 years ago

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17. “Can you let me see your eyes?” + obikin slow dancing <3 <3 <3

hello lovely! thank you so much for the prompt!! this was so much fun to write, i uh, got a little carried away with the romance i just love slow dancing so much like bro its just so good, so tender, AUGH from this set (and i kinda forget this was supposed to be angsty but i think it worked out in the end lmaooo)

youre having a lovely tuesday :)

here you go my dear <3

______

Snow dots Obi-wan’s eyelashes, holding perfectly still as the pair weaves their way through the crowd; the Christmas festival had just begun, gloriously donned trees and handcrafted, larger-than-life gingerbread houses carefully placed through the city like a treasure hunt for Christmas spirit. Obi-wan, a native to the city and a long time participant in the festival, drags Anakin, a new initiate and boyfriend of a few months, behind him by the hand, their fingers intertwined through thick gloves.

“Oh, this one is by far my favorite.” Obi-wan throws the comment over his shoulder, eyes alight with elation, his whole face aglow from the warm lights meticulously strung through the trees lining the city sidewalks. Far off, Anakin can hear the faint echoes of Christmas carolers, of bells, of horns honking, and friends chattering.

A sharp tug sends him stumbling to keep up, and Anakin has just a moment to take in the building’s exterior before being thrust into a hotel more expensive than his life savings doubled. Tripled. It’s old money, marble staircases and velvet rugs, bellboys in suits and incandescent, shimmering chandeliers hanging from the ceiling.

“Are you sure we should be here?” Anakin mock whispers to Obi-wan, who is only half-listening. “I can’t afford to be here.”

They come to a sudden halt; if Anakin hadn’t had his eyes latched onto Obi-wan's red and ruddy face, tinted from the cold, he would’ve tumbled right into him. Obi-wan pulls Anakin’s hand up to his mouth, giving it a chaste kiss through the glove. “Look.”

In front of them, he doesn’t know how he missed it, is the largest Christmas tree Anakin has ever seen. Red ribbons cascade down the sides, a waterfall frozen in place, and lustrous silver and gold bells, ranging in size from a fist to his entire torso speckle the branches, interlaced with dozens of tiny doves and cardinals. They stand there and stare at it for a moment, in awe of its beauty, Obi-wan occasionally glancing over at him with the joy of a child written all over his face. Guests race around them, like a river finding its way around a boulder, veering off to various hallways and exits, lugging suitcases and families behind them, not paying the couple any mind. Somehow it makes the moment all the more special: how beautiful it is, to capture something so lovely in secret with someone, standing in the open, lost in your own bubble.

“Wow. A lot of balls.” Anakin teases: a facade to cover up how much he actually really likes it.

Obi-wan gives him a side eye and a thin smile. “I know you want me to make a joke out of that, but I refuse to stoop to your level, they’re ornaments.”

“You’d have to be taller than me to”-he holds up air quotes, dragging one of Obi-wan’s hands with him-“stoop to my level.”

Obi-wan rolls his eyes at Anakin’s smug grin. They settle back into gazing at the tree for a few moments more, studying every detail.

“You haven’t even seen my favorite part of this place,” Obi-wan says, bouncing off behind them, tugging a reluctant Anakin, yet again. They make their way across the lobby teeming with people, up a set of shallow stairs lined with plush carpet, and into a quieter part of the hotel, a midsize room with mirrored sets of doors on either side, the staircases continuing to loop up the other side of the room. It looks like a resting point of sorts, a midpoint between the lobby and the rest of the hotel. The chatter of the lobby doesn’t follow them, and Anakin is suddenly aware of how alone they are.

“Uh, yeah, it’s…” Anakin tries to come up with a compliment, and fails. It’s just a regular room.

Obi-wan laughs, full of mirth. “No, this isn’t it.” He lets go of Anakin and saunters up to one of the sets of doors, pulling it open like a butler, holding a hand out for Anakin to enter first. “This is.”

Anakin draws his eyebrows together, bemused and wary. “Is this the part of the date where you murder me in a big, fancy hotel?” He walks towards the open door anyways.

“No, but a rather good idea, I’ll save that for the future.” Obi-wan snorts, his hand falling to Anakin’s lower back as they step into the dance hall.

It’s like something out of a movie, Anakin thinks. The hall is enormous, dauntingly tall, probably meant for a ball. There isn’t any light save for the white streaks that stream in through lofty, narrow windows, like a painter had dipped his brush in moonlight and stroked once across the canvas, but it’s enough for Anakin to make out the exquisitely patterned wood floor, the white and gold molded walls, the unlit chandeliers, the grand piano tucked neatly away in the corner. A thin layer of dust seems to cover everything, and the air is stagnant, desperate to see life waltz in again. Anakin feels as though he stepped out of reality, the hustle of the Christmas festival light years away.

Stringed music starts to play behind him, audio clearly from a phone or small speaker, tin and canny in quality. He turns in confusion. “What are you-”

“May I have this dance?” Obi-wan asks, a hand offered in between them, no longer gloved. He is barely visible in the low lighting, shadows enshrouding all but the curve of one cheek, the glint in one eye. Obi-wan’s phone is on the floor, volume turned as high as it will go.

A breath moves through Anakin, quiet and shallow, otherwise he is a statue. If he tried to speak, he thinks he’d choke around all the emotion flooding his chest, spilling down into his hands and legs, roaring up through his head and leaking out through his eyes. The music continues to float out into the space around them.

Obi-wan coughs lightly, laugh lines falling away to reveal a layer of nervousness. The ocean inside Anakin churns.

“Yeah, of course,” he says, and slips off his wool gloves, stuffing them into his back pocket and grabbing Obi-wan’s hand. The touch is like a shore to his ocean, pulling him forward, asking to be caressed, returned to, loved.

They fall together naturally, staged for a lazy waltz, and begin to sway, like the tide creeping into the soft sand, retreating back into itself only to race ashore, finding a home in its rhythmic ritual. Anakin lets his forehead drop onto Obi-wan's shoulder, breathing him in, ignoring the lingering wetness from the snow. He thinks he’s crying.

Obi-wan pulls back a bit, releasing his hand from the small of Anakin’s lower back to cup the dense gathering of curls just above his neck. “What’s wrong, dear?” The words are spoken into his hair with a gentle, hot breath that tickles Anakin’s ear.

Anakin lets out a ragged breath, trying to get a hold of himself. This is more than anyone has ever done for him, more than he deserves; the whole evening had been a dream with a golden filter over it, every bit of it sewed into his heart with needle and thread, bleeding all over the place to never forget the details: an early dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant, snow bumbling down around them in the crisp winter air, a cup of shared hot cocoa from a street vendor, the crowd cheering together as the city’s tree was illuminated for the season, Obi-wan giddy to show him every single tree, every single gingerbread house. No one had ever put this much detail into a date, had ever given him this much thought, this much care and attention in a relationship. And he loved every bit of it, loved all the banter and casual touches, loved learning more about Obi-wan’s life growing up, loved- oh god, he loves this man.

Still on Obi-wan’s shoulder, Anakin’s cheeks are hot, and the sea is still leaking from his eyelids, salty and stinging. “I love you,” he admits, whispers, confesses, knows to be true.

Obi-wan stills beneath him. “Can you let me see your eyes, dear one?”

Anakin leans back, just far enough to hold his face above Obi-wan’s, and looks at him, into him, through him, lets Obi-wan search his face for any sign of a lie, Obi-wan trailing the hand that had been on the back of his head to cup his cheek, thumb rubbing across Anakin’s lower lip. “I love you,” he says again, a little louder, his voice echoing into the cavernous hall.

“You love me.” Obi-wan repeats back to him, almost a question, almost a statement.

Anakin blinks a few times, trying to figure out if he had just massively messed things up by admitting it so carelessly, so impulsively. “Yes, I mean, it’s okay if you don’t…” he trails off, not wanting to even say it. “I mean, do you-”

“Oh, Anakin, yes.” Even in the dark, Anakin can make out his brilliant smile, the gleam of his teeth, the twinkle in his eye. “I love you, of course I love you.”

The broad swaths of the curtains seem to open a little wider, the room a little brighter, air humming with energy, the whole room seeming to say ah, love, finally.

Obi-wan sweeps Anakin off his feet, which is no small task given his build, and spins him in a circle, breathless with laughter, swept up in euphoria. If Anakin is the ocean, Obi-wan will drown with him. The music continues to play out of Obi-wan’s phone, but the pair pays it no mind, coming together for a giddy and messy kiss, giggling at their cold noses and lips.

They’ll have the rest of their life to dance, anyways.

#boonki writes #obikin #obi-wan/Anakin #prompt #i just wanna...dance with someone u know #also sorry it isnt christmas anymore but i just?? love the holidays?? christmas year round whats good

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calmlftv · 5 years ago

Text

4 a.m. - m.c. blurb

description: a fight brings you out on a late night drive, and forgiveness finds its way to you.

word count: 1.7k

warnings: VERY brief scenes/flashbacks involving yelling/hurtful words, a lil bit of angst but a happy ending

w/n: i wrote this while feeling some things during lockdown so pls enjoy! 💕

taglist: @spicycal @castaway-cashton @irwinkitten @n-ctarinenga @notinthesameguey @blackbutterfliescal @ashtonsos @loveroflrh @bestyearssos @treatallwithkindness @bestyearslftv

****

“What did you just say to me?”

You winced, the painful sting of Michael’s words hitting you again as you pressed your foot against the gas pedal, shooting down the road your home was on as you escaped the mess you had left behind. The way Michael’s voice deepened as his volume rose stuck with you, his words making your ears ring as you had fought back tears, silently grabbing your keys and slamming the door on your way out.

The night air was much colder than you had expected but you left your windows down anyway, the chilly air drying the tears as they fell from your face. Your car was deadly silent, the only sound being the wind whipping through your windows as it covered the sounds of your sobs that shook your entire body, the heaves in your chest making your lungs ache as you wept over your steering wheel.

It had been obvious from the way Michael stomped around the house that he was upset, the more obvious sign of him locking his office door after you had gone in to bring him lunch only solidifying the thought in your mind as you sighed. Throughout the day you still tried to reach out to him, texting him to ask if he wanted tea or to play a game together to try and cheer him up, only to be left on read every time, a frustrated sigh escaping you as you finally just left him alone. He only appeared again when you were cleaning up from making dinner, the shuffling of his feet against the floor alerting you to his presence. When you demanded a reason for his mood he snapped, voice rising as he looked at you. It only got worse from there, the two of you screaming at each other until your throats were raw and you were on the verge of tears, leading up to this very moment where you pulled off the road and followed the lightly made tire tracks to your look out.

When you got out of your car you leaned against the door, your eyes taking in the sight of the city lights cutting through the darkness, the neons meeting your eyes as you stood up straight and closed your door, settling on the hood of your car as you tucked your knees against your chest. You wrapped your arms around your legs as you just sat there, staring blankly at the city as you lost yourself in thought once again.

Michael’s face was tinted pinkish red, eyes bloodshot behind the black rims of his glasses. His jaw was clenched and locked, the muscles moving as his hands tugged on the hem of his shirt, the fabric bunching up when he released it and repeated the action. You could tell he wasn’t going to stand down so you took a breath, hands flat against the cool countertop as you exhaled.

“Michael just tell me what’s wrong-”

“Why, so you can be overbearing like always?” He snapped, his voice low now as his shirt went slack again. “Stop trying to fix me, y/n, I’m not some broken project you can piece back together!”

You felt an angry blush cover your cheeks, the feeling moving down your chest and over your body as you spoke, tone sharp and voice loud. “I’m not trying to fix you, asshole, I’m trying to fucking help! I’m your girlfriend, I’m allowed to be worried-”

“I never fucking asked you to worry about me!” He yelled, spit flying from his mouth. “Jesus Christ, you’re just as bad as-”

“What did you just say to me?”

Pain radiated through your body, the ache in your chest returning as you let out another sob. Your face buried against your knees, hating the words you said to him and the ones he said to you, resenting the way your voice shook and rose as you got more and more upset. Your fights were always few and far between, but when they happened they were a messy explosion of emotions, typically ending with the two of you tangled under the sheets of your shared bed as you owned up to your mistakes and gained forgiveness.

This time, though, there was something different radiating from the two of you; maybe it was the stress of the lockdown order getting to you, maybe the amount of time you’ve been forced to spend together was finally taking its toll. Maybe a mix of both, along with the stress of working from home and whatever else could be affecting your love as he was forced to stay away from his friends and family. You knew this was taking a toll on both of you, but you didn’t know it could get worse like this.

You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a car door closing, the sound startling you as you quickly wiped the tears from your eyes. Familiar footsteps came up from behind you as you stared ahead, refusing to look at this person joining you.

“This spots kinda sketch,” a soft voice stated, the phrase being something you’ve heard hundreds of times as Michael walked up beside you, his hands in his pockets as he stood next to your car. The headlights from his Tesla were still shining over you, washing everything in a yellowish tint as it disturbed the pitch darkness around you.

Silence enveloped the two of you as you didn’t answer, still not looking at Michael as he sighed. You sensed movement as he lifted a hand and scratched the back of his neck, his hands tugging down his sweater sleeves until they rested over his palms. He always hated colder nights, a very miniscule pang of sadness hitting you until you brushed it off.

“Petal,” he said softly, his eyes trained on you as you just stared ahead. His heart broke into a million tiny pieces when he saw your puffy eyes, knowing he was the cause of the tear stains on your shirt and jeans and the numb feeling on your shoulders.

He quietly climbed on the hood with you, leaving space between you as he settled in. It was quiet again, this time for much longer as he joined you in looking over the city, the sounds of the night surrounding you both in the warmest hug despite the obvious chill.

“I’m sorry,” Michael stated, voice a bit shaky now as he took a breath. “I crossed a line and...projected my feelings about everything on to you, and that’s not fair. You didn’t do anything wrong, I shouldn’t have used you as my verbal punching bag, and I’m really really sorry.”

You were silent as he finished, taking a minute to mull over your words before you found your voice again, lips parting to speak.

“Am I overbearing?”

Michael paused, not exactly expecting you to ask a question. He chewed the inside of his cheek, weighing his own words before he spoke again, honesty dripping like honey from his tone. “Sometimes you are. But it’s how I know you care.” He paused again, chirping insects filling the gap. “If you were to ever stop checking in and worrying about me, that’s how I’d know I’ve lost you forever.”

More tears threatened to fall at his words and you pushed them away, knowing he always brought you honesty when you asked him questions like that. You took a deep breath and let it out through your mouth, the sound of your own breathing calming you down enough to speak.

“I’m sorry,” you said simply, voice still raw as you winced at the ache. “I know I should have given you some space instead of checking in so much. You would have come to me when you were ready to, and I just kept pushing until you broke.” A slow sigh escaped through your nose before you continued, your eyes moving to Michael as he looked at you. “And I forgive you. But can we talk through things like this? My throat kind of hurts.”

A smile broke through Michael’s face, his teeth shining as he slipped an arm around you and pulled you close. “I promise I’ll talk more. I never want to yell at you ever again.”

You smiled in return, his lips pressing sweet kisses to your forehead as he pulled you into his lap, arms keeping you as close as possible while he bundled you against his chest. Another silence fell, this one much more comfortable as you both watched the city move below you, cuddling on the hood of your car as Michael’s body warmed you up.

After a while Michael yawned, releasing his arms from around you as he stretched them up. You sat up a bit and shivered, the air quickly stealing away the warmth you had just experienced as you started to stand up.

“Probably should head home,” you mumbled, Michael nodding along as you both scooted off the hood, eyes scanning it for any dents or scratches before you moved to your cars. His hands held the door open for you, kisses being stolen before you got into the driver's seat and started the engine, immediately cranking the heat to get warm while Michael went to his, quickly moving out of the way as you both drove back home. Your dashboard clock alerted you the time, the

The drive home was quicker than the drive out, your favorite Mowgli’s tune blasting as the two of you pulled in, both of you getting inside quickly as the dogs bounded over to you. Moose whimpered at Michael’s feet and he chuckled, reaching down to scratch her ears as South sniffed around your feet.

Before you could pick him up for cuddles Michael’s hands were on your hips, tugging you close against him again as he pressed his lips to yours. Your fingers tangled in his hair, his squeezing your hips as he held onto you, unwilling to let you go as you stood in the entryway of your home. It took everything within both of you to pull apart, breathless as you held on to each other for dear life.

“I love you, baby,” you said softly, your eyes meeting the beautiful mixture that up your boyfriends, a smile tugging on the corner of his lip as he pressed a kiss to your jaw.

“I love you, too,” he said sweetly, lips moving to your ear. “Maybe I can show you how much in our room?”

You couldn’t help but laugh lightly, nodding as he took your hand and led you to your bed, tangling under the sheets again and again until you both finally fell asleep.

#5sos #5 seconds of summer #michael clifford #michael clifford blurbs #blurbs.mc #5sos blurbs #5sos angst

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slashingdisneypasta · 5 years ago

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Feeling kinda dumb asking this tbh. Not sure if you even watched TVD, but in case you did, you know how Bonnie uses Expression Magic which is considered extreamly dark and powerful form of magic (I mean, she literally destroyed hell!) do you mind writing Freddy x victim!reader oneshot where he mets a witch who also practices Expression and is extreamly powerfull? He tries to kill her at first obviously

Omg, this one started out so light hearted but oh my god.

Don't feel dumb!! Its a good ask!! I do watch TVD, and I hope you like this ^^

~~~

I wake up the same way I have for the past 3 weeks. With messy hair, slashes through my favourite pyjama shirt and a finger in my hand- well, it isn’t always a finger. Sometimes its an ear, a portion of his ugly sweater, his hat, once even his eyeball. You get the picture though. Unimpressed, I watch the finger turn to gunky, dirty dust. Then promptly get up and tiredly get out the vacuum cleaner to clean up the mess.

Once I’m done, I put the vacuum back in its cupboard down the hall, which at this point I could totally do just from muscle memory and no other senses due to how often this month I’ve ripped something of Freddy’s back out into the real world in my attempt to take him out and kill him off the clean way.

But, I take a deep breath and let it out, exhausted and resigned, as I pull on pants and search through my closet for a shirt to wear out today. I guess I’m going to have to do it the hard way.

Finally, I discard the ruined shirt and wrench on a clean, yellow t-shirt and leave my house.

___TIME SKIP___

“Hey, Bernard,” I beam towards the grassy haired barista. The café’s basically empty, apart from a group of teenagers watching Netflix and Disney plus on their laptops and phone sin the far corner, so I think we’re fine to talk. He looks up from the mug he was drying out, sees my expression and promptly scoffs. Immediately he starts down the bar, past the glass case with all the sweets inside including a delicious jelly slice with lavender for safety that I get when I come here for breakfast, rounds it, and comes all the way to stand very close to me. He holds up his pointer finger between us sternly, almost mad and I focus instead on his hair rather then his face. It really is grassy- not because he’s been playing footy which he likely was before he came to work and not just because its green. Its messy, and multiple shades of different, environmental green. Representing his element.

“Don’t you dare.”

I sigh, and roll my eyes as I sit down in a bar stool, successfully putting space between us as he doesn’t move. “Its kind of a dire situation.”

“A demon?” He doesn’t look at all like it would change his mind on the subject of my using magic if it were a demon. Which it is.

“Yes.”

“What kind?”

“The kind that draws strength from attention, lets move on.” Again, I roll my eyes. Not at Bernard though, this time its Freddy. Yes, he totally is that kind of demon. Not even just because he needs people to believe he exists to work. He’s just an attention whore.

Bernard crosses his arms and rolls his shoulders back, more than expressing his parents’ shared fire element. And, also, his cranky streak. “You will not use magic.”

“I’ve tried doing it the easy way. I’ll be safe, I promise.”

“I’m not worried about you, I’m worried about your neighbours, and the rest of the known universe if you fuck up. Actually, scratch that. Unknown universe, too.”

“I’m not asking you for permission anyway. Just- come on, gimmie the book.” I hold out my hand, looking around for where he could possibly be hiding it. Cupboards? Behind the cupboards? Has he digitised it? He just continues to glower, and its so forceful that I lower my hand and pout. He’s always been the scary cousin in our family.

“Oh, you so are asking me for permission. You don’t know where the book is!” He sneers, and I deadpan deeply at his immaturity.

“Look, Ber, we’re grown adults. Grown! Ass! Adults! I can make my own decisions, now- where is the book?”

“No!”

“Gimmie!”

“I’m older than you, and I say no!”

“Berrrrrrrr- Oh hi Boyd.” I pause in glaring at my Bernard to look at his brother, Boyd walk by from the upstairs apartment, clipping the vizor attachment to his glasses as he’s going out. He looks boredly at me smiling at him and keeps going to the door with an old-fashioned bell fixed to the top.

“You’re here for the grimoire?” He asks, opening the door and turning over his shoulder, and I nod sweetly- he’s sure to be more helpful! “Yeah, Bernard lost it. Hid it so well even he cant find it anymore. Now, I have a date.” He leaves the, now very tense and cold café with a curt, “Later.”

Slowly… I turn to Bernard. He is now avoiding eyecontact. He misplaced… our families… century old… grimoire??! “Find. It.”

Having a change of heart, he heads behind the counter again with a lowered head. “Oof, I’m on it.”

It must take hours, before I give up looking alongside him and sit down to take a rest. The teenagers have gone by now, and Bernard turned the ‘Open’ sign on the front window around to say ‘Closed’. I don’t know how it happened, but at some point, I rest my head on the bench and the exhaustion from not getting full rest for weeks catches up to me, and I fall asleep.

“Back so soon?”

I jump. “Gah!” Turning around to where the voice came from and I see Freddy- clearly, not in a creative mood because otherwise he wouldn’t have appeared so quick. “Why are you here?!”

“This is my domain, sweetheart.” Freddy explains, something I already knew and he knows I already know and I groan.

“It’s the middle of the day! Can’t I have this one moment to sleep in peace??” A wide smile spreads across his face, and I slouch over. Course not. Oh god, I am so tired. Another yell escapes me though, exhaustion making me incredibly jumpy, when suddenly he appears beside me. Physical form and everything, I can feel the fuzz of his sweater on my arm. “Don’t touch me.” I flash him a glare, not daring him. Definitely not daring him- he’ll take it. Just telling him to back the fuck off because I’m tired not only from his unfaltering ability to keep me busy and working, even when I’m asleep, and also now because my dear older, moronic cousin has lost our grimoire which was entrusted to him, which I need to get rid of Freddy, in order to sleep and actually feel rested!

Oh, my goodddddd, I would do almost anything right now to dream about stupid normal stuff like flying, or running from an encroaching car, or falling. Even falling, which wakes you up. At least I can fall right back to sleep.

“Okay, now, see, if you tell me that, I’ll just wanna do the opposite! ~” The clawed glove nears my face and my right eye twitches, but I stand still there with my arms crossed and glare at it. The rusty, nearly black metal nearing my eyes, reflecting the sharp, gross grin on Freddy’s burnt face.

“So, its opposite day then?” I ask, humouring him because what else are you going to do? When he gets bored, he’s even more dangerous.

“Yep!” Visibly, the stripe sin his sweater switch places so its green and red, and not red and green. He thinks he’s funny.

And, clearly I’m exhausted otherwise I never would’ve fallen for that. “Then please touch me Fredrick.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, raucous laughter escapes him, and he holds his belly as he doubles over and laughs. I groan and dig the heels of my hands into my eyes. I need to wake up. “Out of all the obnoxious murderers out there… “I got the worst of the lot.

“Yep, you got me. Now, let’s stop fucking around shall we? Let’s get to the good stuff!”

“Oh no.” I half groan, half whine in dread and fear. Suddenly, the fact that I fell asleep feels like stupidest move ever- at any time, he might kill me. Its just blind luck that he hasn’t felt like ending the game so far. But he could at any time, including this time.

Freddy disappears again, and I whip around to look for him. My heart starts to beat thunderously in my chest because nothing good has ever occurred when Freddy disappears. I’ve been shot, I’ve been crushed under a stone slab, I’ve been choked with 80’s twisted telephone phone cables- I’ve even been kissed. And every time, I get closer to dying. I lose oxygen, I lose blood, I lose morale. Every time I get hurt, Freddy takes me closer to death then before and I think I’m actually gone this time. He’s bored, I’m not enough anymore, the torture is over.

Which is both a relief and even more horrifying then anything else. Tears cluster in my eyes as time goes by and nothing happens. I just see the boiler room around me, everything tinted red and everything damp and shiny with grease and rust. I don’t want to die.

Suddenly, smoke starts to fill the room. Until I can’t see anything at all except the white in front of me and my hand if I would raise it, but I don’t. I just stay very still, afraid of what’s about to happen. “Fr-Freddy?” I call, weak and disappointing myself. I’m a fucking witch… but that doesn’t really mean much in this world. Not without the spell that I need from the grimoire that’s nowhere to be found. I’m a witch, and I’ve raised to think that means something, means I’m a force to reckoned with, but here I am being reckoned with and I’m useless.

The ground underneath me starts to vibrate, and the smoke slowly starts to clear.

I squint, but I can’t see much through the remaining smoke and the tears shielding my eyes except a bright light.

The vibrating gets worse, and I look down and notice that the smoke has cleared enough at the point to see what beneath my feet, and the realisation of what’s there makes fear swarm throughout every crevice of my being. Mind, body and soul.

Train tracks.

My head snaps up again to see the light, a train, barrelling closer and closer to me. It’s so loud now that I’ve realised, I’m about get his by a fucking steam train, that my ears pop and protest to the pain of it all. The train gets closer and there’s Freddy. The fucker. Wearing a conductor’s uniform and hanging out the side of the driver’s compartment. He grins and waives.

I try to use rational sense and move out of the way, but rope shoots out of the earth between the tracks and twists tightly over my shoes. I try to wrench my feet out of my shoes, panicking now as the train tracks are practically jumping, but the ripe starts to climb… higher and higher up and around my legs and my hip and my arms, until I can’t move at all. It’s so tight I can’t barely even breath- not that I’ll need to for much longer.

I brace myself, and squeeze my eyes shut against the now blinding, all-encompassing brightness of the trains light. And then the train hits-

“FOUND IT!”

I’m wrenched suddenly, and violently from my sleep on the counter and straighten up so vigorously that I nearly slip right off the bar stool. There’s drool on the bench from my sleep, my cheek feels stiff from resting on it for a while, and whip around to look at Bernard who’s standing beside me now with the leather bound, yellow paged book that he’s found. I snatch it from his fingers, dropping it on the bench and start frantically looking through it, eyes still filled with tears and now they start falling. I slap a hand over my mouth, stifling the heavy sob that racks my back and shoulders and mouth from the shock and horror of what just nearly happened. I can still see fuzzy blue dots in my vision from the light, and my nose tingles because the train just touched. It smelled like smoke and coal and that’s still in my nose. Theirs white scrapes on my wrists from the rough rope.

“Y/N,” Bernard touches my arm and I don’t push him off, but I don’t respond, either. I barely notice him, too preoccupied with looking for the right spell. I need this to be over, that can’t happen to me again! I’m not brave enough for it. Another terrible sob forces its way from my chest and I feel half like curling into my cousins chest and crying my heart out and half like killing that bastard Freddy. Wrenching his entire nasty existence from unwritten history and tearing it so it will never be salvaged again.

The second half wins, as I go back through the book backwards, and this time find the spell. “Ow-Okay.”

“Y/N, take a moment- “

“No,” I snap. I nearly got h i t, by a t r a i n. A monstrous thing the same colour as Freddy’s blades. Bernard can’t understand that, but I sure as fuck can. Stammering, but sure, I start to recite the incantation under my breath. Slowly it gets louder, as words start to become harder to say and I need concentrate more. Latin mixes together into one big word, and its har don the best of days but when there’s expression magic involved, it takes an army. More.

And I am that, right now.

Bernard looks around as wind, not coming from an open door or window, starts picking up in this room and rushes to shut the curtains and block the rest of the world from seeing in. Napkins go flying, then the chairs topple over, and then finally the wind is so strong that coffee maker rips from the wall and smashes into the glass sweets case.

I don’t see it, because I’m still following the words in the book, but I hear it. But only just, over the terrible wind screaming through my ears. Finally, the spell reaches its peak and the air in front of Bernard and me, who has gotten back to where I am, opens up. Like someone took a knife and tore literally through the fabric of space and time and magic, revealing the familiar boiler room.

The words start to speak on their own. Whispering in the wind and my lips don’t even have to move, so I let Bernard take the book. Its all so chaotic, I don’t know how I know what to do. But I reach forward and just, lightly touch the hole and its like the magic knows exactly what I want.

Dirty dust, like what Freddy turns into when you bring out of a piece of him from the dream world that I’ve been vacuuming for the past weeks appears, connects together into the shape of a man and then twists together slowly, disturbingly like vines until it isn’t dust and vines anymore. Its burnt flesh and knitted, red and green cotton.

And he looks mad. “You bitch.” Is all he manages to say, but it’s got so much hatred and fury in it that I nearly get scared. I feel it creeped into my bones and organ in my chest.

But then I remember. This is my world.

And I don’t want him in it. “Get out.” I spit, and just like the world seems to crash. Eliminating an existence -anything. Much less a person, - is a lot of work and a big deal. It shouldn’t be possible at all, and I believe that. But I believe it like some who believe murder shouldn’t be possible.

But it is and sometimes it happens, in dire situations.

It feels like I’m being torn on the inside, and scraped clean on the outside- punishment, for doing such a thing. Something to make the world balanced for this.

And Freddy warps like The Scream or a computer glitch. Half of him gong up and the other half going down. Its horrifying sight and I’m in so much pain, but I make my eyes stay open.

And then everything goes black.

___TIME SKIP: A Week___

The whole week has gone by like dream. Not a Freddy dream. Not even a happy dream. Just, like its unreal. I don’t feel much, except a slow, soft blankness like when you’re totally out of it in class after a really, really bad day.

Its not particularly a bad feeling, not compared to the horrors I endured before. Its just like I need to rest, after I used so much power, and feeling so much in general.

Oh, and I have. I’ve been sleeping all the time. Day and night. It’s been uninterrupted and nearly… empty, feeling. Bizarly, I’m well aware now when I’m asleep that I’m dreaming. I’m lucid. Like when Freddy would be there, but without him. Its not exactly restful, but still. It’s better than the nightmares.

Right now, I’m going to sleep. Feeling tiredness expand and unconsciousness take over.

Immediately, I nearly jolt right awake again from fear. Nearly. But his hand grips onto my arm before I can.

Freddy’s right in front of me, smiling sharp like a much madder, pissed off the Cheshire cat. “Heya again sweetheart.” His voice sounds too real. His touch feels to real. This cant be- “It took a fucking lot. Pulled a few strings, don’t know how. Don’t ask. But I’m back. Don’t worry though, I’m not about to kill you. That was a real neat trick you pulled… “I jump, and whimper when the a blade on his glove touches my cheek, and he leans much closer.

“So, we have a lot to talk about.”

You didn’t think you could rid of this Slasher, did you?

#Request #Freddy Krueger x Reader Oneshot #Oneshot #Freddy Krueger #Expression magic

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xxsanshinexx · 6 years ago

Text

Sk8er Boi

Happy Birthday Yeosang~

Characters: Yeosang x reader

Genre: Fluff

Words: 5721

Summary: Kang Yeosang always came in with some sort of injury. Hand, knee, cheek. You always had to patch him up. But now, you were a little concerned as to how all of this was happening. ~

He came in everyday, as soon as the bell rang, with a new scrap somewhere on his body. On monday, it was his cheek. On tuesday, it was his elbow. Today you could only imagine what kind of odd wound he would come in with. You always pondered over why he had such peculiar injuries; they didn’t tend to add up with any reason you had came up with. Fighting? Seemed like he would have more than such small wounds. Extremely clumsy? Doesn’t seem like he was one to fall down the stairs and only scrap his kneecap.

The whole persona of Kang Yeosang was rather peculiar.

You reorganized your notebooks and papers as flocks of students came in and out of classrooms. The occasional couple hugged each other farewell, the friends screamed at each other from down the hall, and the late sleepers ran in through the door with massive bedhead. It was always fun to watch your classmates scramble in as you sat there; having already been seated and ready minutes prior. And then the bell rang, students scrambling to get into their seats and your favorite person was still nowhere to be seen, not even as your teacher walked through the still open door.

“Good morning class,” Mrs. Jeon greeted, adjusting the glasses on her nose once she came to the front of the room, “Please have out your notebooks, pens and a highlighter for today’s lesson-”

The sound of frantic footsteps made your teacher pause, a knowing look befalling her face. In an instant, Yeosang stumbled into the room, breath ragged and face slightly flushed. It was an everyday occurrence for him to halt the morning greeting by barging into class.

That’s why Mrs. Jeon could only sigh as Yeosang gave her an abashed smile, “You’re lucky i’m nice, Mr. Kang. Anyone else and you would have been in detention more times than I can count.”

“Sorry Mrs. Jeon,” His voice was quiet like always, with that added raspiness that never failed to make you listen a little more attentively.

Mrs Jeon just shook her head and gestured to Yeosang’s seat which was right besides yours, “Just get to class on time Yeosang. This really is going to be the last warning.”

Yeosang just nodded his head as he flung himself into his seat, throwing his backpack on top of the desk to rummage through it for supplies. He always had this messy quality to him. His black hair was always a little windblown, his eyes always a bit dazed, and his clothes were always a tad ruffled. Even the snapback on his head was off-kilter.

He had apparently found what was needed for class and pulled it out, along with an apple and smoothie bottle- he always ate in the beginning of morning class. Setting his bag down, as Mrs. Jeon began to get into her morning lecture, he finally noticed your lingering eyes. His dark orbs stared into your questioning ones for a few seconds before quickly advertising them towards his blank notebook like words were suddenly going to appear on the pages.

You chuckled a little at how mismatched his interior and exterior was, “So what is it this time? Your knee again? Cut your finger?”

“I-um…” He glanced up to Mrs. Jeon, who was too immersed in teaching to notice, and then decided to pull back the sleeve of his hoodie. You hadn’t noticed his sweater paws before which managed to cover the entirety of his hands, and you were almost glad. The top of his right knuckles looked like it had been scrapped off, dried blood matting his skin enough so that you winced. His voice was quiet as he picked at the forming scabs on his hands like it was nothing but paint on a wall, “My hand this time.”

“I don’t think a bandaid is going to be able to cover that one,” Your voice was of equal quiet as you ducked you head with a pencil in hand, avoiding the inquiry of your teacher’s eyes.

Yeosang nodded besides you as he began to write the lecture title, rather sloppily, with his injured hand, “A couple bandaids probably would.”

“You’re literally still bleeding.”

“Do you have any band aids or no?” He pouted, hand shaking with effort as he tried to follow the pace of Mrs. Jeon’s speaking.

You shook your head with an exasperated sigh, “After this class ends… I’ll wrap your hand and everything.”

“Thanks Y/n.” His little smile of gratitude, a rare sight, was enough to get your heart racing.

“No problem,” You averted your eyes to your paper, trying to find interest in the ideologies of the Enlightenment instead of staring at him like an idiot, “ just try not to get blood everywhere for now-”

“Miss L/n, Mr. Kang!”

“Sorry Mrs. Jeon!”

The bell signaling the first class of the day being over came as you began to doze off on your notes on Plato. Not even the vibrant colors you added to your papers keep you awake at this early hour. You were nearly out when a gentle hand knocked on your desk.

You groaned in annoyance and turned your head away from the disturbance, “Go away.”

“Y/n my hand is bleeding again.” Yeosang’s exasperated voice sounded from right above your head. You tilted your head upwards and sure enough, there he was; clutching onto his wounded hand with worry clouding his features.

A small sigh sounded from you as you sat up, reaching into your bag for supplies, “I thought I told you not to pick at it.”

“To be fair you told me nothing of the sorts,” He huffed, wiping away some of the blood that was threatening to drip onto the floor.

“I’m sorry I thought it was common knowledge,” You pulled out a box you had deemed “Yeosang’s personal emergency kit” and set it on top of your desk. There was bandaids, tape, gauze and other small medical necessities piled within it; all because Yeosang was too afraid to go see the nurse. You even wondered why you bothered to become Yeosang’s personal doctor; maybe it was his little hopeful smiles, the shyness in his eyes or the fact that you had a big ass crush on the little, quiet nuisance.

“I didn’t think it would bleed this much,” He added as you stood up and gestured for his hand. Begrudgingly, he placed his slightly bloodied palm in your own and you inspected it with worried eyes. He had seriously scrapped it on something, most likely cement, and had managed to rip off a fair amount of skin.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as you took a wipe to his skin, cleaning it with the as much gentleness as you could manage. He hissed a little at the sensation and an amused chuckle escaped your lips as you cleaned up all the red, “You have to stop hurting yourself, Yeosang.”

“It’s not like I try to,” His breath brushed against your forehead as you worked and you were thankful your head was down. “It just happens.”

“Mutilating your hand doesn’t just “happen”.” You huffed, setting down the bloodied wipe and picking up a piece of gauze.

“It can.”

“Are you seriously going to play this game,” You laughed a little as he looked away from you, a small pout on his face as you began to lay the material against his injury. “You just need to be a little more careful.”

“I’m careful,” He whispered, though it was laced with his own uncertainty. You could only shake your head at him as you finished up your makeshift bandage, wrapping his hand tightly with tape. It was quiet after that; you finishing off his hand and him just watching in complete awe. No one was ever this kind to him, no one willing to just drop their freetime to wrap him up. You had always been so kind to him from day one and he didn’t understand it.

“And that is why you come to school with a new injury everyday,” You rolled your eyes as you ripped the tape and set the rest of the roll back into your bag, “Seriously what would you do if I wasn’t here to patch you up?”

“Probably bleed to death,” His little joke made a smile break out on your face as you smoothed down the ends of the bandage. Your hands were rather small in comparison to his, you couldn’t help but notice this fact as you finished admiring your sloppy medical care.

Yeosang didn’t seem to mind that it wasn’t entirely up to medical standard.

Your smile shifted into a frown as you ran your fingers along the ends of the white wrap, “How do you even get these? I don’t mean to pry or anything… it’s just worrisome.”

His facial expression became one of uncertainty, and you knew you had immediately crossed some invisible line, “Um… well, I just.. Uh-”

“You don’t have to tell me, it okay,” You promised and retracted your hand away from his, saddened by the sudden lack of warmth.

He seemed to have a mental argument, his facial expression shifting every so often to encompass his thoughts. His nose would scrunch up when he looked to the side and his mouth would pull itself into a tight line with he blinked. You had no idea which side one you just knew it was all rather cute.

“Ah… fine-” He reached forward and took your hand in his once again, making pink tint your cheeks at the sudden contact. His eyes now had a new conviction in them, “Can you meet me at that giant tree out front, right after school?”

“Sure,” You said, your brows quirked up in interest at his entire change in demeanor, “You’re not going to kidnap me, are you?”

He got a little flustered at your playful teasing and frowned, “No.. why would you think that? I guess it is kinda odd- we could meet somewhere else if you-”

“The tree is perfect, Yeosang,” You laughed and the worry in his eyes seemed to vanish at the sight of your smile, “Just don’t stand me up, okay?”

“I won’t,” He promised, giving an enthusiastic nod, one of the most expressive actions you had ever seen him do, “It just might take me awhile to get there after class.”

“You’ll have five minutes before I get suspicious.”

“”I can live with that.”

Now you stood, with an excited feeling coursing through your veins, under the large oak tree at the front of school. Many other students lingered underneath its branches, either for shade or just a place to stand until their ride came. None of them were looking around anxiously for a quiet boy, fighting the grin that wanted to appear so badly on their face. Yeosang still had around three minutes until you told him you would take off- not like you really would either. You just had to say something that wouldn’t embarrass yourself or make you seem to eager to finally hang out with him outside of the confines of the classroom.

Your unfathomably large crush on the mess of a boy began the first day of the school year.

“Is.. um is anyone sitting here?” A quiet voice asked as you reorganized the pens on your desk for the fifth time that morning. You had gotten to school the first day much to early for your liking.

You nodded without looking away from the color spectrum you had built, “No, feel free to sit.”

The owner of the voice took the seat without another word and it made you frown a little. Everyone else had begun to chat it up with their new seat mates, the entire room was filled with their idle chatter and screams. Yet this boy didn’t even seem to make a single noise; having retreated to playing with the hem of his shirt sleeve.

You pulled your eyes away from your creation of boredum and glanced over to him, breath suddenly caught in your throat. Your initial thought was that he was absolutely beautiful and you had never seen him before in any of your classes. You had a feeling you would have remember someone with a facial structure like that- and not to mention his dark eyebrows that framed his features nicely.

You snapped your eyes away from his face before he could catch your wandering eyes. Instead, you focused your attention on his hand; where a small amount of blood was running down the side of his finger. How in the world had he already hurt himself? There wasn’t anything dangerous in this school or maybe this pretty boy was just naturally clumsy? Wouldn’t that be adorable.

“You’re um.. You’re hand’s bleeding.” You mustered up the courage to say, eyes trailing the drop that continued t snake its way down his finger.

His head snapped up and he glanced over to you, eyes almost dazed and showing a hint of freight. It made a small frown appear on your face as he averted his gaze, pulling his sleeve up to cover the majority of his hand, blocking the small injury from your sight. “I know.”

“You know?”

“I just didn’t want to go to the nurse…” He said, eyes glancing over to you in almost sheepishness as his voice quivered for a second, “She uh-she scares..me.”

A small smile broke out on your lips at the boy’s explanation, “You don’t worry about Mrs. Choi, I always have stuff on me.” You reached into your bag, pulling out the small bundle of bandaids your mother had given you as emergency. She knew you weren’t to fond of going to the nurse’s office for small things either. “Here.”

“Oh.. I.. um,” He reached forward which his unhurt hand and took the small bandage into his hand, careful not to touch you in the process. His eyes held gratitude but a panicky smile was teetering on his lips, “I-thanks- I mean uh.. thank you..?”

“Y/n.” You felt your heart thump a bit erratically at the smile, shy but happy, that began to grace his lips. It was a contrast to the nervousness that was originally making them twitch.

“Yeosang,” His little smile grew, so much that it reached his dark eyes making it look like the stars themselves resided in them, “my names Yeosang.”

You knew that was the exact moment Yeosang’s name was imprinted in your heart. How chessy the whole thing was, your whole current situation was, every time you added Yeosang into the equation. The thumping of your heart and the lovesick emotion made you cringe- it all felt much too like a bad teenage fanfiction. You had little reason to think of Yeosang in anyway other than a friend yet your heart decided that it would go rambo whenever you caught sight of his messy hair.

Like now, as you spotted him bolting out of the school with his eyes searching the area around the tree, you heart opened fire on all your emotions. It took all of your will power to fight the blush or the childish grin that so badly wanted to appear in his presence, and became even harder when he caught sight of you- a new, timid smile taking place on his lips.

He bounded over to you, hands wrapped tight around the new object in his hands, a skateboard. You never understood why he was always so nervous, not even as he stopped in front of you- hands tapping a light beat against the board. You let a cheerful smile appear on your face as you stared at him, taking in the snapback on his head that was still crooked, “So you didn’t stand me up?”

“No, I wouldn’t do that to anyone,” He pouted but there was a light in his eyes, “Why do you keep making it seem like I would.”

“I’m joking, chill,” Your laughter bubbled out of you and you could have swore Yeosang’s lips twitched upwards, “I wouldn’t have agreed to this if I thought you were a bad guy… whatever it is that you invited me to do.”

He cocked his head to the side with an unreadable expression, “I told you, I’m gonna give you an answer to how I end up with all those injuries. Now, come on.”

You raised your brows at the new confidence in his voice but nonetheless followed alongside him as he took off, glancing back every so often to make sure you were following. The two of you fell instep with one another as he looked everywhere but you and you looked at the board that was vice gripped in his hands. “I didn’t know you skated.”

He looked back to you from the birds in the sky, finding your eyes already looking into his. To say his heart fluttered was an understatement. He feebly nodded his head as he turned his old board around in his hands, a sense of pride beginning to swell in his heart alongside something else. “Yeah… it’s one of my favorite things to do.”

“So you’re one of those X games boys?”

You got a scoff in answer, though his eyes lit up at the mention of the event, “Is that all you know about skating?”

“That and apparently the fact that you should wear bubble wrap whenever you get on that board.”

The laughter that bubbled from him was something you had never heard before. It was soft and lighthearted with a joyful undertone. A complete contrast to the reserved and quiet scoffs he would give you in class instead. A smile lingered on his lips as he spoke, the mesmerizing noise still lingering in your mind, “I’m not bad at skating. I just try to do too much.”

“Like what?” You tilted your head to the side.

“Like tricks and things. This morning I tried to do a 720 Gazelle flip and-” He flung his hands out in exasperation- one of the most expressive actions you had ever seen him do- and then gestured to his bandaged hand, “I ate it. I don’t even know how I ended up on the ground.”

You were perplexed at his sudden change in nature and the words that had came out of his mouth. “A… 720… Gazelle flip?”

He looked over at you as if you had just asked what air was. The sight made a giddy smirk break out on your features, “It’s one of the hardest moves! It takes even professionals a while to understand it and perfect it! I don’t even think Nyjah Huston could get it in the first couple of tries-” You had stopped listening to his passionate ranting at this point, fixated on the ways his eyes lit up, how his eyebrows moved up and down with his emotions and how his hands moved about when he talked. You had never seen this side of the shy, quiet boy who sat besides you in morning classes and you had never been more captivated by him than in his moment of passion- albeit for something you had no knowledge on. “-and now I’m in this bet with a guy who thinks he can learn it faster than me and I need to beat him- he thinks he’s so much better than me! I can’t let him have the satisfaction of winning a twenty dollar bet-”

He was still on his tirade and you could help but let out a giggle, effectively making him stop talking and blush in embarrassment. He had no idea why he had told you all of that. He barely even told his own mother half of the things he had just spoken freely about. You thought the whole thing was rather adorable, even more so as he raised his board trying to hide his face behind it, “Sorry I didn’t mean to ramble on about all that… I know you probably don’t understand it or probably care all that much-”

“Can you show me this… Gazelle Flip?”

He pulled his skateboard down a little, turning his eyes slightly to meet you amused eyes, “720 gazelle flip.”

A laugh left your lips once again as you rolled your eyes, “Fine, can you show me this 720 Gazelle Flip?”

He swore his heart stopped at your smile and he could only give a feeble nod, “Yeah but I’m not good at it yet- I’ll probably mess up or something! I don’t want you to think I’m-”

You reached out and took his free hand in a spur of courage, trying to effectively stop his rather cute rambling. It worked because as soon as you wrapped your fingers around his bandaged hand, his eyes went wide and the words on his tongue faltered. “I won’t think you’re bad at skating, if that’s what you’re getting at. I just want to see what it is, no judgement if you fall because I could never attempt it.” He gave you a little nod and you could feel his hand relax against yours, wrapping his fingers around your own ever so lightly that pink began to spread across your cheeks. “Now um uh… where are we even going?”

“The skate park.” His voice had reverted back to the timid one that woke you up at the end of class except this time red was plastered against his usually pale features. You weren’t sure how much better you faired, especially not as he moved to intertwine your fingers in his flustered quiet. Neither of you made a move to let go, not as you walked on in silence to the park that was a few more blocks away.

The park wasn’t exactly what you thought it would be. Sure you had seen them on tv before but it didn’t really encompass the whole laid back vibe of the place. There were no scary looking men or anyone hung over; it looked like the place was mainly teenagers or college students just looking for an output or something to do. And while the scenery was a bit gray, it wasn’t dull. You liked the overall feeling of such a place, and maybe it had to do with the fact that there was a special person right besides you.

“There’s not that many people here,” Yeosang mumbled as he began to lead you towards a relatively flat area next to the skateboarding pit.

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked as he he stopped next to a raise piece of cement. You could only assume it was usually used for tricks.

He shook his head no, “Just means less people will see me eat shit.”

His comment made you laugh as you rather regretfully let go of his hand and sat on the cement. From there, you would be able to get a good view of the gazelle whatever Yeosang was so adamant on learning. “I’m sure you won’t eat shit.”

“I’m most definitely going to eat shit, Y/n,” He reaffirmed, setting his board on the ground and taking his cap off, pushing all his hair back, “Don’t be too mad if I use up all of those bandages in your bag.”

“What’s new,” You leaned back on your hands as he hopped on his board, pushing himself around the area softly. “Now let’s see this gazelle flip thing.”

He shook his head and mumbled a soft, “720 gazelle flip,” before he began to pick up some pace. For a few moments, he just rode around getting used to the feel of skating after a long day of school before turning back towards you who was just intently watching. He slowed down a few yards away from you, seeming to take a deep breath and then managed to lift him and his board up in the air; both of them twisting and turning too many times to count until he tried to land back on it. Again, he did try. His foot hit the board but his body hadn’t rotated enough for him to stick the landing and he jumped backwards, stumbling for a minute before ultimately sitting on the ground.

“Even if you failed,” You said as you gave him a soft clap in approval of effort, “it was still impressive.”

“Love the encouragement, Y/n.” And then he was up again. And again. And again. You had lost count how many times he had ultimately failed at getting that trick down. Everytime he was at the point of frustration he would take his cap off, ruffle his hair and place it back on his head backwards. And everytime you would make sure to shout him words of encouragement, which left a small smile on his face that didn’t fade until he did another failed attempt.

“You’ll get on this one, Yeosang,” You cheered, still immersed in watching how he never gave up despite the countless fails. His nodded his head as his lips tightened, forming a thin line in concentration as he set back off to attempt the flip another time. It was amazing he hadn’t given up yet. The determination to win this dumb little bet was evident as his eyebrows furrowed together as he attempted once again to complete the little trick.

And your jaw dropped once he finally landed it, with no wobbling or shakiness to his finish. It was a feeling kin to winning or achieving something grand, even if you weren’t the one who had done it. Upon the initial shock of landing it, Yeosang looked up at you with wide eyes and a mouth wide with surprise, “Holy shit.. I landed it! Y/n I landed it!”

“I knew you would eventually!’ You grinned as he came to a stop right in front of you, a grin now plastered on his features.

“Oh Mingi wishes he didn’t start this bet with me,” His voice was cocky now as well as the smirk on his face as he sat down on his board, the ends of his shoes just touching yours.

You rolled your eyes, though it was more of a way so you didn’t stop and stare at him. His hair was wild underneath his cap, his eyes alight and for once self-assured, and the smile sent your way didn’t do anything but make your face go red. “You still have to perfect it and then show it to this Mingi.”

“Oh let me relish in this moment, Y/n,” He laughed and took his cap off, running his hands through his hair slicked with sweat.

You laughed a little at his words and tapped the ends of his worn out vans with your toes, “Now onto the hardest trick you’ll ever pull off.”

He looked back at you with confusion in his eyes, “That is the hardest trick i’ve ever pulled off-”

“You’ve haven’t taught me how to skate yet.” You smiled as you spoke, and near grinned as Yeosang laughed at your challenge, “If you can pull that off it’ll be a miracle.”

“I don’t think it’s that much of a challenge,” He stood up and wiped his hands on his pants before offering them to you.

“You clearly underestimate how awful I’m going to be at this,” You took his hands in your own and once again that giddy feeling was weaving its way through your body.

He just shook his head and stepped backwards, over his board and onto the otherside, “Skating isn’t that hard, just don’t fall off.”

“Jeez, how much motivational can you get.”

“What? That wasn’t good enough?”

“Nope, just fantastic; really reminded me of when I broke my leg and my mom told me to walk it off.” You huffed as he guided you to stand right in front of the small skateboard. Granted, you were a little terrified. Never once had you tried something as simple as skateboarding, maybe your spur of the moment challenge hadn’t been the best idea.

“I’m sorry I lack the eloquence of a motivational speaker, now just step on the board.” He braced his hands as you stepped up on to the small piece of movable wood, doing your best to balance at the change. To an outsider, you probably looked like a newborn foal; with your wide eyes and stiffness. Yeosang seemed to notice your change in demeanor and gave a small smile, his thumbs rubbing gently on the back of you intertwined hands, “Loosen up a little.”

“That’s easier said than done,” You placed both feet onto the wood, clutching onto Yeosang’s hands for dear life. “You’re like a pro at this.”

“I started where you are at one point,” He shrugged, moving backwards slightly and making the board move causing a breath to hitch in your throat. You were still uncomfortable and entirely off balance; there was no way you could just ride around the park.

“Do not go fast,” You warned but a little smirk flickered at the corner of his lips.

“What? LIke this?” He began to pull you a little faster and you felt like you were going to fall off at any second, though in reality he was in no more than a fast walk.

“Oh my God, Yeosang!” You cried, as he continuously sped up and the only thing you had from keeping you from flying off the board was your intertwined hands. You had no idea Yeosang could be so playful.

He cackled amongst your protests, slowing down a little to appease you and your screaming, “You’re not even going that fast!”

“It’s still terrifying!” You protested as you began to roll to a slower pace, “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“Well there’s first times for everything,” He stuck his foot out to stop the board, and while the motion stopped your movements rather gracefully, you still flailed at the abrupt stop. Yeosang was quick to catch you by your waist as you teetered at the edge of the board, holding you in place. Your heartbeat quickened at the sudden contact and you straightened up, putting your hands on his outstretched arms; both of you having no intentions to move.

It was the first time you had been this close to Yeosang. Now, you could make out the full shape of the charming birth mark on the side of his eye, the full dull color of it. He had expressed to you once before how he wasn’t that fond of it, but in that moment, your were completely smitten. And maybe it was the way his hair fell in his eyes despite his attempts to keep it in his hat. And that little mole on the side of his chin or the sparkle in his gaze. Or maybe the way his eyes trailed over your features as well, seemingly lost in thought like he was memorizing every detail, that made you smile in complete content.

“I…. I really want to hang out with you again.” Yeosang said, almost breathlessly as his eyes trailed back to meet yours. “Outside of school and all.”

The words made that feeling of content grow into one of complete cheerfulness, “How about that cafe down the street tomorrow? After class?”

“I’m gonna make you skate there.”

“You’re ruining the moment, Yeosang.” A giggle erupted from you at his teasing and he just smiled, brighter than before.

”That sounds… perfect.” He nodded, looking down at the ground for a second before turning back to meet your eyes, “Just perfect.”

You could feel the both of you lean in slightly. To be honest, you never pictured this; you on a skateboard and Yeosang just staring at you, with a smile on his face. You certainly never pictured him leaning in, just close enough for his ragged breathing to fan over you.

And by God you would have kissed him if it wasn’t for that annoying voice.

”Is this what you’re doing instead of practicing for our bet!?”

”Dammit Mingi why did you have to show up now!” Yeosang turned and yelled at the tall figure that stood at the edge of the skate pit, apparently sharing the same sentiment you did. This Mingi just laughed and hoped off down the ledge, disappearing from sight as a red faced Yeosang turned back to face you. His head didn’t face you as he busied himself with playing with the loose ends of your shit, “I-um… I’m sorry about Mingi and everything that was just going to happen and all that… and yeah.”

“Don’t worry about it,” You gave him a gentle smile but he didn’t look up to see it. “I’ll head home so you can properly go beat this Mingi’s ass without worry. I’ll see you tomorrow? Okay?”

“No.” He said, voice firm as his head snapped up to meet you eyes but he averted them immediately, “I mean uh… just.. Watch me win this bet first and then I’ll walk you home… and we can just um maybe get ice cream or something.”

You chuckled at his shy tone that never failed to make an appearance as you brushed away some of his hair from his eye. It only seemed to make him more red, and you were sure his face had transformed into the color Crayola crayon as you leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead, “That sounds like a great deal.”

Yeosang was thoroughly dumbfounded at the sensation of your lips against his warm skin. Never in a million years could he have envisioned the day you two had together; the conversations, the moments, god even him getting you to laugh- and definitely not the kiss to his forehead. He could have never imagined that. He looked back up to you a look of wonder in his eyes, “Holy shit.”

As much as Yeosang’s reaction made you giggle, head tilted back as the laughter flowed out of you, another voice broke your pure moment. “Yeosang’s got a little lover! Get it-”

“Goddamn it Mingi,shut up!” Yeosang cried in annoyance once again, looking back up at you and as soon as you both met eyes; all you could do was laugh.

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coconut-cluster · 7 years ago

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who wants some prinxiety? because i do so here we are (taggin @thelowlysatsuma BECAUSE A R T)

After the point in “Moving On” where Virgil and Roman learned that they had, unintentionally, joined forces during Thomas’ teenage years to generate so much of his creative outlets (like writing), Roman approaches Virgil very stiffly with an old, messy notebook

“I thought you might want to look at this,” he tells Virgil slowly, handing it over. “It’s some of Thomas’ old writing that I kept, for inspiration’s purpose, but... I guess... you might like it?”

Virgil is suspicious, just a little bit, but he opens it and flips through

It’s pages upon pages of stories, from tales of dashing princes (with red sparkles doodled in the margins) to spooky myths to soft, confused love stories that ended up a little skewed but sweet in their intentions

And they’re stories Virgil remembers, drifting through the Mindscape when he was panicking, when everything else in his head was chaos - he remembers these words falling down around him in the whirlpool of black of his room and soothing his wild eyes and shaking hands

Then he’s on the floor, blinking at the notebook like it’s from another world; he sees Roman step back, surprised, before the prince is sitting next to him, his presence hovering at Virgil’s side with unmistakable uncertainty...

...But after a second, he reaches over and flips a few pages before landing on a well-loved part of the book, and says softly, “This one is my favorite.”

Virgil scans the page - it’s about a star, untethered from any constellation, that spends its lifespan alone in the sky sad and hurt and bitter, growing in its isolation until it dies, its dust left to fade into nothingness.

“I never pegged you for a sad-ending kinda person,” Virgil tries to snicker, but it comes out a creak more than anything.

And Roman doesn’t answer for a minute - he just stares at the doodle in the top corner of the page, the tiny, cartoonish star with glistening eyes and a wiggly frown. “I always thought it was more hopeful.”

“...how?”

“The star itself isn’t hopeful, obviously, but... it could’ve been. He could have been happy with the other stars, could’ve joined a constellation, he just... didn’t.” He goes quiet again. “I know it’s not that easy. I just liked to hope it’s possible.”

Virgil rereads the story - it does have a slight “what-if” tint to it, and he wonders what exactly Thomas was experiencing when he wrote it. He can’t remember, but it's at the edge of his mind-

“We’d just met you,” Roman says.

Oh.

“You thought I was the star.”

Roman sighs, leaning back on his hands, guilt flickering across his face. “I did. But I didn’t write this one - I didn’t come up with it, I mean.”

And the half-cursive of the page jumps out to him suddenly: nearly chicken-scratch, in dark, smudged letters.

“I thought I was the star,” he mumbles, just as the memories finally return to him - a young Virgil, huddled up on the couch, scribbling furiously in the notebook as Roman watched over his shoulder. All he wanted was to be that star, floating through the sky; he might be alone, but it was better to do it where he could be invisible in the vast emptiness of space, instead of his blatant exclusion in the Mindscape,

“But you didn’t want to be,” Roman interrupts his trip down memory lane. Virgil frowns - at the page, at Roman, at himself the most - but the prince isn’t finished: “You’re not. You’re the what-if, Virgil.”

“I’m... what?”

“You were alone for a long time, we... we left you alone, and you were sad and bitter and ignored- but you didn’t quit! You never let yourself fade in the sky; you kept going through all the awful things that happened to us, to you, and it took us far too long, but we finally understood that you’re so crucial and bright and magnificent and-” Roman’s hands fall from their overexcited arc in the air, and he meets Virgil’s wide eyes, a soft smile on his face.

“You’re what happens when a star joins its constellation.”

#ITS RUSHED BECAUSE IM TIRED #FEEL FREE TO ADD ON #sanders sides #thomas sanders #prinxiety #roman sanders #virgil sanders #my writing

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the-fiction-witch · 6 years ago

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Lavender Hill 1

REAL LIFE: COUPLE: KINDA NONE EXACTLY RATING: SWEET + CUTE

I sat on this little bus, my clothes force ably changed by the guards before they pushed me on the bus. My hands where cuffed to the empty seat in front of me, I could hear the drivers radio though the little window at the front of this bus. There where alot of seats but only eight had people in, I was using one of course a man I assume he was a guard sat behind me with a gun the barrel of which was sitting on my back I didn't know if his safety was on or anything which made me very scared anytime we went over a bump. Three seats closer to the front hard boys on with the same clothes as me, the seats behind the each had a guard man sat with guns against there backs too , one Boy had short almost fluffy dark brown hair and a pair of black glasses he seemed nervous he had a tissue in his hand that he had slowly been ripping on this journey the little pile of tissue fragments on the floor below his chair. The boy on the left was skinny, deathly so. His hair a messy mop of blonde and brown hair he kept looking around the bus at each of us, the doors, the window, the guns, the seats, the handcuffs. Like he was planning a escape. The boy closest to me kept jumping in his seat he was crying every so often, his hair was a strange dark purple. We stopped suddenly. As we did I could smell the sweet scent of lavender flowers and the sound of gates, the boy closest to me began to panic more crying and screaming “not again, not again, not again please, Please please” he cried as we started off again starting to jump around in his seat trying with all his might to break his cuffs “Enough!” his guard yelled forcing him to stop, we traveled what must have been about a mile before we stopped again the engine turned off and the music stopped, the door slid open letting light floor into the bus I had gotten so used to the absence of light it made me look away, the door was surrounded by what looked like a clear plastic tunnel with standing construction lights on the other side, i could just see the outline of people by those lights. The tunnel lead to a door with way of getting out of it. The Guards stood and unlocked each of our hands cuffs forcing us to stand and march to the door of the bus I was at the back again, that blonde boy at the front when suddenly- “No No No! I won't go back in!” the very nervous boy screamed running for the plastic tunnel trying to tear it down with his bare hands but a sudden burst of light and four loud bangs... and he was dead each guard had shot him and left him to bleed on the floor pushing the three of us on into the doors and they slammed shut behind me.

I saw so many rooms one after the other without long enough to really remember any of them till we where all forced in a dark room and the guards left or at least I think they did. “Good morning Gentle Boys!” a voice smirked cheerfully with a gruff sound and a sly undertone the light came on and we where in a room where the walls and floors where covered with while tiles this man was a large man with a beer belly and a shaved head he smirked at us looking us all up and down. Some men came from the other door on the other side of this room with masks and gloves standing with this man a moment “get 'em” he smirked and the men each grabbed one of us hard forcing our arms behind our backs and handcuffing them behind our backs forcing us each on our knees standing above us watching us from where hollow eyes “Now... who want's to go first?” he asked coming close to us resting his hand on his thighs as he leaned close to us know one moved I didn't even breath “No volunteers? They never do” He laughed making these other men laugh too “Best keep these three out the girls ward, there pretty” he smirked “Lets go with....” he smirked passing up and down our little line “You Blondie!” he smirked getting the blonde boy dragging him across the room by his hair he tried to fight him away but this man was far to strong throwing the blonde boy hard against the tiled wall in the middle of the room i just noticed he was stood over a drain. The three men who had come in went over stripping the blonde boy naked I looked away as much as i could as they laughed at him, the blonde boy tried his best to hide himself without use of his hands the men went away and the first man was holding something.... a hose he turned on the water and sprayed the blonde boy so much it pushed him tight against the wall the water running down the drain “stop it please!” He screamed making the man stop “what was that Blondie?” the man laughed “Stop Please...” the blonde boy begged but the man tuned the hose on again this time the water was pilled with soap as the bubbles went everywhere the blonde boy tried his hardest to fight between his screams and cries clearly in pain a red mark on his chest a forming bruise from the first impact of the water “stop it please!” he screamed falling to the floor curling up into a ball crying his eyes out “Ohh whats the matter Blondie you scared of a little water?” he man laughed spraying him again no matter how much he cried and begged until he turned it off again and the men dragged him away taking him out the other door “who's next... lets have four eyes” He laughed grabbing the boy with glasses taking his glasses and breaking them in his hand forcing him over to the wall stripping him naked and spraying him with the water too he too complained let then the Blondie but enough to make you wince away from the sounds till he was done so the men took him away out that other door too “just you baby face” he smirked forcing me over I tried to fight against there stripping but I could do very little with my hands cuffed I didn't fight against the hard fast water i didn't see the point save my energy till he was done with me and the men pulled me away into another room, they put me in a chair beside the other two boys covering us with towels a man behind each of us “What are you going to do to us!” the boy that had glasses asked but no response I felt them starting to put something on my head like a gel or putty I glanced to the other boys they where doing it to them too a bright purple gel on our hair the blonde boy thought a lot trying to make them stop the boy with glasses was crying, I tried my best to sit still and let them do this to me if they had to after a little while they washed the gel out leaving all three of us with bright purple hair forcing us off the chairs removing our cuffs and pushing us into another room with a man stood at a desk I was first as somehow I got finished with the hair first “Sizes?” He asked having a puff of a cigar “sorry?” I asked “Boxers... what size?” He asked me “Ohh, uhh medium” I nodded and he got a pair of black boxer shorts putting them on his desk “Shirt?” he asks “Medium again” I nodded “Pants?” he asked “Medium” I repeat and he got some bits out “Jumper? Or hoodie?” he asked “Uhh Jumper” i nodded so he handed me the pile I had accumulated and pointed over to a little changing space so I got dressed while the other boys got there clothes too, once we where dressed a man knocked on the door and smiled opening it, he wore a white lab coat and a blue shirt “Hello boys, come with me if you please” he says so we all slowly followed him up the empty corridors till we reached a door, he unlocked it and smiled opening it so we went inside it was a little room with a barred and frosted window, two bunk beds one on each side and a little tale between them a blanket on each bed and a fresh set of clothes on three of them “This will be you boys room, just the three of you. See you boys at lunch” he smiled “Welcome to lavender Hill” he smiled shutting the door and locking it.

I sat on the left bunk bed as the only bed made up was on the bottom, the other boys took the bed on the bunks on the right and we sat a moment in a strange silence. “what's your name?” I asked the boy with glasses, they had given him a black pair with lavender Hill written on the sides “Uhhh... Isaac” he nodded “You?” he asked “Asa” I smiled “what about you?” I asked the boy who was blonde on the top right bunk “Thomas” He sighed fiddling with his blanket “I don't wanna talk, if its all the same to ya” He said “sorry” I replied “Its fine, I'd just rather not” he sighed resting his arm behind his head “Fair enough, your not fond of water are you?” Isaac asked him “I said I don't wanna talk!” he yelled “I've spend my whole life tryin' to avoid lavender Hill. Now I'm here, I'm not really in a social mood ya get?” He explained “Sorry” Isaac replied “I wonder when they start the therapy?” I asked “Day two” Thomas answered “Thought you weren't talking?” I ask “Yeah but ya won't shut up!” Thomas complains as we stopped hearing out door unlock “Stand By your Beds!” a voice yells so we got off our bed standing by them as a nurse opened the door shutting it behind him, he put a cuff on each of our hands holding the other end and tugging us three along like dogs though the narrow corridors till we reached a large canteen it had white and black walls with black and white tiled floor, there must have been a hundred tables each with people cuffed to them in groups of three or four, all of them had purple hair. The nurse made us sit cuffing us to the table and going off somewhere else I looked around the room a little more, there was no windows, the cutlery on the table was a squishy plastic so much you could leave your fingerprints in the handles of the forks if you tightened your grip. The nurse brought us each a bowel of soup they where all the same a faded grey colour so I sighed starting to eat very hungry. “Hello gents” a voice smiles, it was a female voice i looked up and on the other side of our table was a girl, about the age of us three, she hard very dark purple hair almost like a tint then a dye, in a little blue dress she smiled “Hi” she smiled “Uhhhh hi” Thomas smiled to her resting his below on the table “hello” Isaac smiles waving to her a little as he had a spoonful of his soup “Hey” I smiled to her “Did you want something?” I ask her “I just wanted to meet the new boys” she smiles “My names Y/n” she smiled offering her hand I shook it happily and Isaac did too, Thomas smiled giving her hand a kiss “awww, A proper gentlemen” she smiled “Sorry? Y/n?” I ask “Yeah” she blushed “like... bumble Y/n? Buzz buss?” Isaac asked and she nods “Is that uh short for anythin'?” Thomas asked her “No” she blushes “so..” she asks “Ohh, I'm Asa” I smiled “Thats Isaac” I smiled pointing to Isaac as he was eating “and I'm Thomas” he smiled to her “so, what are you doing here?” I asked “my dad is a doctor here, so I like to stay and talk with the patients” she smiles “as your the new ones I can explain things for you guys” she smiles and I nodded, “Well, Dinner is at six, lights out at nine, they make breakfast a half six and lunch is at twelve, they normally have study time at ten am and hobby time at seven” she explained I smirked a little glancing down at the others while she was talking Isaac was having his food listening to her politely I noticed that Thomas was sat leaning on his arm watching her I smirked a little I admit I am not great when it comes to social norms but... he defiantly likes Y/n already he was watching her sweetly a little honey glow in his cheeks as he listened to her “Ohh I have to go” she smiles getting up and rushing off.

I yawned laying on my little mattress Isaac laid on his stomach and almost fell asleep Thomas climbed up to his bunk laying on his back with his arm behind his head “so... Y/n seems nice” I laugh “Hu? Ohh yeah, she seems nice” he blushes “You Uhhh, Fancy seeing her again?” I ask “Well maybe, she seemed enjoyable” He shrugs “Yeah she seems real nice” I laughed “Ohh what? Love at first sight was it Asa?” he laughs “No, what are you talking about” I laugh “Guys! I wanna sleep. Compare boners in the mornin” Isaac complains “lets get to sleep” he sighed

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smallgayblanket · 6 years ago

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OOh - tell me some of your headcannons for the egos?

Ohhh man oh man oh man- which one do i even start with..

I have a load of different HCS that fit certain different spins of how the egos are depending on one what kinda universe they are apart of..

For example, I have one about JJ- Where he was actually made mute by Shawn, except Shawn while his body was puppeted by the ink demon creature that resides within him. (Ive even RP’d a thing with a friend where Shawn’s ink counterpart forced ink into JJ and JJ ended up having his own alter ink persona called Cole.)

JJ is a bartender- and hes suuuper good at knowing exactly what someone will enjoy as a drink, call it a superpower, he hardly ever goes wrong when asked what he suggests they’d like.

(Also he has a pocket watch which contains the soul of an old man called Horace who likes to try and provide old man advice to the lad.)

And although hes a timey fellow, I actually HC’d his ablity would to be to control liquids, his veins in his wrists glow when he does it, its very fancy (and extremely pretty when he can make creatures out of water dance on the surface of the lake) However over use leads to him suffering an experience of drowning which can be rather dangerous and awfully scary.

JJ also has a huge fear of knives.

Also I picture him having silver tipped hair, which is just a touch long and flops in his eyes occasionally.

JJ Also suffers malnutrition because of his sore vocal cords/throat. It can be struggle to get him to eat!. (Did i mention I cannon him as selectively /half mute because he can still talk but its raspy and hurts to do so ? ^^’ )

Jackie

Jackie!! my ladd. Hes a great guy, buff, charming, super big sweetheart too.

He runs a couple of jobs, depending on where hes at which include: a comic book shop, a gym, or just sneakily hiding in plain sight as a gas station convenience store clerk.

I HC that his eyes are actually a blue tinted lilac, and glow gold.

He has a red patch in his hair!

Hes v v fast, and buff.

I also had this whole thing about him being able to create glowing golden orbs and if he makes enough of them he can basically make a clone out of orbs, and they copy what he does!

However, I’ve also always adored Phionex! Jackie, who lost his wings and desperately wants to grow them back but despite being reborn from ash they seem to still refuse to resprout.

Because of his inhuman nature, he runs really fucking warm! so hes like a human heater.

He gives real good advice, and the bestest fuckin hugs.

Also for some reason whenever I write him speaking he has a bit of southern in him?

Robbie

Robbie. Is the softest of lads, he drowns in his sweaters, and as a few autistic traits. Not a fan of big loud noises and crowds and loves soft things to nuzzle up against. Also big oral fixation, boi needs some chew toys. Hes a good lad, eager to help out and be around the other egos, but also quite the quiet type and happy to sit around at home in his piles of blankets.

Chase

I totally HC that Chase suffers from Chronic fatigue, which is part of why his depression got so bad and that he tries his best to make use of his energy. Poor guy can get real tuckered out when he pushes himself too hard.

He's always kept the lime green mess on the top of his head, though sometimes it gets more yellow then he means for it to get.

He has a tattoo dedicated to his kids hidden under his sleeve on his upper arm/shoulder. It's of some cool triangles. One in red for his son, one in purple for his daughter.

He does really well trying to maintain his bro average channel.

Anti

I kinda have a couple views on Anti, since I love cold asshole murder, and also the possibility of ships with a slightly more misunderstood but softer guy.

Hes got static blue eyes, that you’ll only see if hes being vulnerable or super tired that he cant maintain the scary green glow.

I have a HC that hes actually a missing part of Jacks soul, hence why he feels so unstable, incomplete and sad. Hes missing all the good bits that Sean has, and is left with a cold fragment of what he could really be.

However he has, and does murder. Though he attempts to murder those who have actually done wrong.

Very sassy and snappy. Takes alot to get to get to who he actually is.

On the other hand he can just be a fucking ruthless torturer and crazy sadistic asshole who has it out for nearly everyone!

Angus!

Survival hunter. Weird accent mix of Australian and Irish. Uses 'mate' 'oi' 'bag a few of them'

Has a trusty machette. And an epic bow which he's p good at using. Large knowledge of trees and animals and survival.

Wears alot of camo/brown stuff. Loads of pockets. Pocket knife/multitool Hair usually slicked back or messy.

Finger less gloves! Oceany more greeny pale eyes. Totally has some cool studs in his ears- maybe a little wolf fang in the side or something. Beard more like is soft and fuller and well maintained.

Freckles??? sunspots?? yes. Also toned n tanned Def has scars. On his neck, over his cheek and right eye. Plenty on his hands from burns and stings. Has some nasty ones on his ankle on his right foot from accidentally encountering a rouge set up bear trap- nearly lost his foot. Because of that theres sometimes a faint limp that's only kinda there when hes sick/tired.

Obviously wears boots.

Eats alot of trail mix.Loves his meat tho.

Also partakes in Woodcarving !!

Sometimes rather foolishly ignores when hes hurt.

Lost his right leg from the knee down to an awful incident with a hippo Has a prosthetic leg.

Also lost from his elbow down his forearm n hand to a Wedingo.

if he were to have a Home it would basically be a sanctuary. Like a huge property out of the way and secluded.. Nice and private.

HE HAS A St. Bernard. Big puppo- Called Baloo.

He grows some cool ass rare flowers, some homegrown vegtables n berries. Maybe even a cashew tree/apple tree. Plenty of shade but also fresh air.

He has solar panels too so hes basically not needing anyone asides the trip to the shop for like basics he cant acquire like soaps n milk n stuff.

Blank

My fucking. Boi.

Fricking soft boy, his aura is hard to control and sometimes controls him.

He has a rare heart issue which makes him prone to fainting and collapsing without much warning. Still, he tries.

He mumbles an awful lot, and has boughts where his aura ges really bad and he numbs out..(Usually in the corner of his room, everything dark, and loads of errie whispers..)

His aura can manifest into dead vines. He can also absorb other auras so they cant affect him/others!

Sometimes stray petals end up in his hair.

He’s truly trying to be a good lad, hes just a bit odd and misguided. He worries he’ll turn into a monster.

He fucking loves the moves Finding Nemo, and Finding Dory, because he can be very forgetful too.

Honestly, fav boi, should write more for him i just l ove him alot okay.

KOTS

Personally, I HC that the KOTS is actually called Simon. Occasionally i like to picture him with both ears and tail, but generally hes just a guy in glasses in a red sweater who is generally a little skittish and usually quite frazzled. However he actually isnt all that dumb, and has quite an extensive knowledge on the forests flora and fauna.

I did have a really mean HC that hes actually allergic to PB, but only in the sense that it upsets his tum, so like a lactose intolerant person, he eats it and regrets that later.

Also, he has a really nice hanging egg nest thing thats really cushioned and he loves to curl up and sleep there with a nice book.

He’s got really pretty amber eyes too!!

Edward!!

He fucking loves space!! and Secretly also is not that bad at painting. It's a soothing thing to do in his downtime.

His favourite treat is anything with white chocolate and raspberry.

Also, I quite adore my HC that he loses an arm- Either because of upsetting the heads of the household (Dark/Wilford) or because of a house fire.

(Also this isnt the place to mention it but I did once get excited about the idea of a Google/Edward fusion called Edware.)

Yandere

Nonbinary somewhat MTF.

They’re a real cutie. but they will punch dickheads without sweat and really just want someone to be their senpai and let them fall for them head over heels without running away..

They have an epic pink katana. Obviously a huge love for japan and its culture and stuff.

Quite obsessive, but it usually only endangers them for falling so hard that they hurt themselves trying to please their Senpai and beat themselves up over not being worthy or good enough for them when they dont get affection back or end up rejected.

Also yeah theyre into blood a little bit >.>

I kinda love the idea of shipping them with Bim and helping him get a supply of ‘meat’ in return Bim gives plenty of affections to satisfy Yans starved nature.

#everyoneprotector #hcs #my ideas #I love so many of these okay

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roguevaramiy · 7 years ago

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More Than A Gift - Ohmtoonz Drabble

Gift for @fluffy-papaya

Ah this is the first fic/drabble I’ve finished since literally like 2014 so I hope it’s good enough?? It’s a bit longer than I originally intended actually. This AU is kinda set where the boys are neighbors and such but still gave each other their YT names as nicknames just so there’s no confusion on that.

Word Count - 1,855

“This is fucking stupid, Delirious.” “No it is not, now shut up and wrap the present!”

Luke groaned, earning a maniacal giggle at his torment in return from his best friend, whose nickname fits a little too well. Gazing down at the object in his hands, doubt wriggled into his head again.

“Do you really think he’ll like this dumb thing? I feel like he’s gonna fuckin’ laugh at me,” he voiced to the man beside him, squeezing the soft item slightly. The item in question being an incredibly soft dog plush he’d bought on a whim.

“Of course he’ll like it! If not, then he’s gonna have to deal with my fists of fury bitch!” The words were accentuated with vigorous punches to the air by the scrawny man.

“Uh-huh, sure thing, string bean,” he teased back, snickering at the scowl his words brought to Jonathan’s face.

“L-like you have room to t-talk!” Luke just raised an eyebrow at his friend’s spluttering, both of them knowing it made no sense. It was no secret the southerner was far from lacking in the muscle department, fully capable of taking care of himself physically. The same couldn’t be very well said for his skinny companion, who huffed at him in annoyance before throwing a roll of green and blue wrapping paper at him. “Just give it to him and leave me alone.”

The blue-eyed brunet stomped off with a pout, flopping onto the beat up couch nearby, phone in hand. Fond laughter erupted from the bearded man at the childish display, turning his attention back to the present in his grasp.

It really shouldn’t be so nerve wracking, but he couldn’t help the internal crisis from swirling through his thoughts, freezing all courage he could’ve ever mustered immediately. As much as he was usually the composed one, the man the gift was meant for just seemed to have the undying effect of turning his mental motor functions into useless goo.

He smiled fondly as he predicted what good reactions could possibly be received from the present. Surely the sweet brunet would gush about how Luke absolutely did not need to get him a present, how it was such a kind gesture no matter what the colorful paper contained.

But then again…

The fuzzy stuffed animal could also garner a less than pleasant situation as well. Perhaps his long time crush would think the gift is ridiculous and laugh at him for it; think it’s stupid and hand it back. Not to even mention the fact of him possibly confessing to his neighbor in the process.

No, no. Ryan isn’t like that, even if he laughs at it, surely he would still appreciate it, right? But what if he pushes me away for my feelings?

Luke’s train of thought was cut short by a knock at the door, causing Jon to bolt straight up in his seat. “Oohh, that must be him. Leave wrapping the present to me, Cartoonz, and go open the door!” He didn’t have much time to react, nor protest, as a blur of blue snatched the paper and plush from his fingertips and bolted upstairs. Blinking away his confusion, the southerner strode to the front door, neglecting to acknowledge the sweat forming on his skin as a rare plume of anxiety wormed its way throughout his stomach.

Cool it Luke, it’s just your neighbor. Your super cute neighbor who’s leaving to visit family for Christmas in a few hours and this is your last chance to actually say something about how you feel in person for the next 2 weeks.

Fuck.

Pushing his inner monologue aside, he swung the door open to be met by the sight of lively blue-green eyes shining happily back at him.

“Hi, ‘Toonzy!” Just the utterance of the nickname the other gave him sent Luke practically reeling, barely keeping his composure as he replied with his own little nickname for his neighbor.

“Hey, Ohm.” He stepped aside, allowing Ryan to enter through the door and bound into the living room; a dark green scarf with omegas decorating the ends trailing behind him. Brown eyes watched carefully as the warm clothing-clad man perched on the edge of the couch with ease, completely comfortable with making himself at home in the other’s house as though it was second nature. There was nothing particularly special about the scene before him, but Luke couldn’t help feeling a warm glow in his chest at the sight of his handsome crush lounging happily on the old furniture; glasses slipping down the pale bridge of his nose in a way that the southernern couldn’t help but find adorable.

“So, Ryan, since you’re planning on leaving tonight I figured I’d go ahead and give you your Christmas present early, so you don’t have to wait y’know.” He didn’t waste time getting to the point as he plopped onto the couch next as well, the blunt transfer into conversation nothing new to the other.

“Oh, you didn’t have to get me anythi-!”

“Ah, ah, ah! Stop that shit, it’s too late, I already got the damn thing and you’re getting it anyway,” the bearded man interrupted him loudly with a raised hand. Ohm let his mouth stay open for a moment before closing it with hesitation, rolling his eyes with a laugh.

“Whatever, ‘Toonzy, as long as you didn’t get me something inappropriate!”

“Aw shit, you mean you didn’t want a pink thong for Christmas? I guess I’ll just have to give it to Delirious then.” The joke left Ryan practically in tears laughing, a hand coming up to swat the other man’s bicep playfully. Cartoonz let a chuckle out in return, elated at the having made such a sweet sound come from his crush. He took that moment of amusement to worry about why Jonathan hadn’t returned yet. There was no need for him to get off the couch however, as though by some psychic magic, his best friend came stumbling down the stairs on cue with his hands behind his back.

“Hey, Ohm- ah fuck!” The shout was swiftly followed by a crash as the gangly man tumbled to the carpeted flooring face first, hands too preoccupied to catch himself.

The bundled up figure on the couch fell into another round of giggles at the situation while Luke made his way over to the mess of a man on the floor. “Ah hah, there’s the bastard. I’ll be takin’ this!” Not bothering to help Delirious to his feet, the southerner reached down to swipe the object from his friend’s hands, earning a, “What the fuck, Cartoonz?!” in return.

“You can get up yourself, you big baby,” he shot back, finding his way back to his spot next to his neighbor. He glanced down at the gift in his hands, rolling his eyes at the slightly sloppy craftmanship of the wrapping, but nevertheless grateful for it being presentable enough. “Anyway, uh, here’s your present. Merry early Christmas?” Luke tried to laugh it off as he timidly handed the item over to the other on the couch.

The bearded man raised an eyebrow in suspicious as a snicker left Jonathan, who had gotten off the floor and was now retreating back upstairs hastily. The quick action made a sliver of fear sit in his stomach as Ryan thanked him and started at peeling away the bright paper.

Luke winced slightly as a soft gasp escaped the other brunet, but he was washed with relief as hazel eyes sparkled up at him joyfully. “This is such a cute gift, Luke! You even remembered my favorite breed!” Ohm beamed at him, lifting the stuffed Jack Russell from the remaining wrapping. A small, “Oh,” left the other though as something fell from his hands onto the floor.

The gift giver knit his eyebrows together in confusion, there wasn’t supposed to be anything else with the plush. Suddenly leaving wrapping the present to Delirious seemed like a bad idea way too late.

Ryan leaned down to picked up the white piece of paper that had fallen to the floor, colorful eyes scanning over it quickly, leaving Cartoonz to panic internally. He watched as the other man’s eyes widened slightly, a pink hue tinting his pale cheeks.

“L-Luke? Do you mean it?” The question was delivered in such a soft tone, it took a moment for the southerner to process it.

“What?” He blurted out, reaching over and taking the paper from his crush’s hands and reading it himself. Written in red inked, slightly messy handwriting was a simple message:

‘Merry Christmas, Ryan. I’ve liked you for awhile so, will you be my present this year? ♥’

...

Real fucking classy, Jon.

The quick thought flitted through his brain before he too was beginning to fluster heavily, jaw hanging open slightly as he tried to think of what to say. He mustered the courage to look back up Ryan, seeing a still pink face staring back, eyes almost holding a hopeful look to them?

Hopeful, could his crush possibly be hoping it was true?

“‘Toonzy? You seem confused, did you not write that?” The words came out hesitant and slightly hurt sounding, causing the bearded man’s heart to clench slightly.

“No, er, I mean. Ah, fuck,” he stumbled over his words awkwardly, reaching up to scratch his cheek as he sighed heavily. “I’m not the one who wrote it, no. It was Delirious being a sneaky little fucker, but… It is true.” He finished the sentence without looking at the other, instead choosing to stare down at the paper in his hands, defeated.

It was silent for a moment before an excited giggle broke through the air. “Well I guess now would be a good time to tell you I’m not leaving then.” Luke’s head snapped up quickly, mouth opening in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Yeah, the whole family get-together got cancelled ‘cause a lot of people got sick. So since I’m staying in town, could I maybe interest you in a date…?” Ohm trailed off in his question, being the one to look off in embarrassment instead, a small nervous smile playing at his lips. Luke just sat dumbfounded for a moment, taking a hot minute to process the information he just received before breaking out into a huge grin.

“No shit I’ll take you up on a date, I didn’t just confess by accident for nothing,” he joked with newfound ease, gaining some of his usual confidence back.

The positive reaction was immediate, the southerner being thrown backwards onto the couch by the force of Ryan’s body colliding with his own in a warm hug. A giggle of happiness was let out of the man now on top of him, and chapped but lovingly sweet lips melded to his perfectly like the action was a long awaited arrival to home; pure elation practically glowing from both figures on the old couch.

And despite the circumstances of how it happened, Luke couldn’t help but be grateful for his shithead of a best friend helping him get the greatest gift he ever could’ve asked for.

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