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ninyard · 3 years

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i want to know ANYTHING and EVERYTHING about the andrew meets neil as stefan au

YES PLS OKAY

(holy shit this was supposed to be a HC ramble/snippets from the fic but uhhh….here’s a mini fic instead????? The actual fic I wrote isn’t even set back in California it’s set in PSU??? This was supposed to be short backstory!!!!!! Anyways lmk if u want the foxes stuff lol Enjoy <3)

Neil had natural looking ashy blonde with green eyes at the time, no older than 14 years old, going by the name Stefan Montgomery. Him and Mary ended up in a motel in Oakland for a couple weeks, regaining their footing after a close-call somewhere in Oregon.

Mary had hit Neil a gnarly heavy-handed blow after he forgot which name he was using in Eugene. Was it Sam? Or Dylan? Or had it been Joseph? A nice inch wide cut sat where his perfect court tattoo would sit, just on the turn of his cheekbone below the corner of his eye, bordered by a healing purple-brown bruise. Stefan was born on the border between California and oregon, stolen from a waiter at a pit stop diner, who didn’t let their coffee cups go empty as they mapped out where to go next.

He had met Andrew by chance; Stefan had been sitting on the bottom of the metal stairs that led up to the floor they were staying at. Mary was having a shower, dying her hair, becoming Georgia, perfect mother, a beautiful, average woman. He was people watching, looking at the cars pulling in and out of the car park, making up his own stories about who was who, what their names were and if they were worth stealing when they inevitably moved on. Andrew hung around the motel because just behind the building was an old, decrepit playground that’s should’ve been foreclosed years ago. Nobody ever used it, so it was a quiet place for him to be alone. He’d been walking through the parking lot after having just grabbed a chocolate bar or two from the vending machine when he stopped in front of Neil.

“What happened to your face?” It was quiet, barely a sentence, not big enough of a question to be intrusive or over-stepping.

“I’m a boxer.” That was the lie he’d been using for a few days. “I had a fight a couple days ago.”

You see, Stefan was a name Neil didn’t want to remember, like a bitter memory he forced himself to forget. It was just before Mary’s paranoia began to spiral even worse that it had already been. Stefan was keep your head down, we won’t be here long, give it a week, give it a week. Stefan was sleepless nights, watching his mother sat upright almost all night, eyes on the door, a knife under her pillow. Stefan was you don’t need friends, they’ll drag you down.

Mary didn’t know until the end that they’d been friends, Neil teaching Andrew the little boxing he knew, Andrew teaching Stefan how to keep yourself busy when you needed something to do. There was something about Andrew that made it impossible for him to stay away; he wasn’t a particularly happy kid, but the way he spoke, the way he cared about the fake life Neil had made up, the way he saw Stefan’s life as something he could never have.

“Have you ever thought about kissing a boy your age?” They’d been in Oakland for three weeks, and the two kids had made plans to meet every time Mary was occupied and Andrew was around. Neil didn’t really think to wonder why Andrew was always around. Didn’t he have a family who would miss him being gone all this time? Didn’t he have a home to go to?

“No,” Neil answered honestly. There wasn’t time for thoughts like that. Kisses weren’t signs of affection; kisses were lies, kisses were dangerous, kisses occupied a space in the mind that could be filled with run, run, run.

“Do you think it’s wrong?” Andrew had been swinging on the swing set, his feet dangling from the chipped plastic seat, the creaky chains holding him up. The question was loaded. Behind it was a conversation he’d had with his foster-mom, a slur from his foster-siblings, another hit from his foster-father.

“No,” that was an honest answer too. In his head his answer sounded like I’ve been told all kissing was wrong. But he couldn’t say that. Normal teenagers thought about kissing, and boyfriends, and girlfriends, and worried about how they looked in front of their crush. “Do you?”

“I don’t know.” His words were a sigh. Andrew trusted Stefan in this weird, out of character way. He’d never met anyone who’d been more interested to hear about his life than talk about their own. Of course, half of it was a half-truth, lies weaved into the story of Andrew.

Andrew was the first person who made Neil smile in a very long time. It was foreign hearing himself laugh, a sound reserved for fake interactions with strangers who couldn’t help but prying. Neil trusted him. His honest eyes often burning a hole in his face, on the days when Neil couldn’t bare eye contact. Andrew was a rock that Neil could feel himself becoming more and more attached to, more and more…attracted to? He didn’t know what that feeling felt like, but when he caught himself thinking about what a long hug from him would feel like, or a kiss on the forehead, the cheeks, the nose, the….

It was an impossible thought that Neil kept buried. Until Andrew had a bad day. Until Neil met him in the playground and he was sat underneath the slide, face buried in his knees that were pulled to his chest. Black hood pulled so far forward it almost covered the wet cheeks and puffy eyes he tried to hide. Stefan sat just across from him, the tips of their shoes not quite touching, but Neil rested his open palms on his shoes for Andrew to hold if he needed. He didn’t ask what was wrong.

“You’re my friend?” Andrew asked, half statement, half question. There was no hesitation in Neil’s “Of course.”

Andrew gently weeped, babbling on about wishing he could feel normal, or have a normal family. He wished he could understand himself. He wished he didn’t have to hurt so much. He’d looked up at Neil with his red eyes and wiped the tears from his face with the cuff of his sleeve. “Can I trust you?”

The statement hurt Neil far more than he thought it would. He hated that words spilled out of his mouth, his eyes stinging at the thought of saying what he really wanted to say. His mouth said “You can tell me anything,” when his brain said “I think Stefan dies in a week”.

Andrew told him about how he thought he was gay, and how embarrassed, alone, and ugly he felt to think that way. He didn’t know what normal feelings felt like. He didn’t know what it felt like to kiss someone he actually wanted to kiss. The statement hung in the air like a floating question. Did he…? Andrew had brushed away the thought almost as quickly as Neil did, but not without both their cheeks flushing pink at the unspoken idea. Neil watched as Andrew messed with the strings on his hoodie. Andrew cheered up after a little while, but when Neil realised how long he’d been gone for, he panicked. Instinctively, he pulled Andrew into a hug before running back to the motel room.

Stefan was bad memories, he’d always had to remind himself. Stefan was a mistake, a fuck-up, a vulnerability he would never, ever show again. Stefan was a slap across the face when he came back late. “Where the hell have you been?” Followed by a lie, then another, then another. Neil had only lied to his mother a handful of times in his life, but when it came to Andrew they seemed to slip out of his mouth at an alarming rate. The next time he seen Andrew, his swollen, burst lip barely hidden, Andrew had brushed his fingers across it and sarcastically asked if it was the product of another boxing match. Neil shushed him when he asked if his mother had done it. That was too personal. He was letting Andrew in too far and he was rotting Neil from the inside out. His hardened exterior fell away when he was around Andrew, and boy, was that dangerous. It shattered into a million pieces when they sat at at the top of the jungle-gym and Andrew asked so gently if he could kiss him.

No, no, no. The ghost of his mother’s hands in his hair told him to walk away. The phantom pain of a slap, and a hit, and a deafening lecture about his safety told him to stop letting Andrew in. He knew it was dangerous. He knew it, he knew it, he knew it. So why did his lips automatically curl around the word yes and his heart start pumping a hundred miles a minute? They looked each other in the eyes for a few seconds, minutes, hours, days, until they were both so close they couldn’t see each other anymore. It was only a peck, a playground kiss, but Neil’s stomach flipped. Andrew pulled away as quickly as he’d leaned in. He didn’t look at Neil for the rest of the hour they spent together, but Neil didn’t look at him. That wasn’t to say they each didn’t have to constantly fight a love-struck smile off their faces every few minutes.

Their meetings started to get less frequent after that. Andrew stopped showing up, but instead left little notes carved into the yellow plastic of the slide. ‘R u grossed out? -A’ was the first one he left after their moment’s kiss. All Neil wrote back was ‘Never’. The next time they seen each other in person they sat hidden again in the top of the jungle gym. Neil knew Mary was planning on them moving on in the following days. He couldn’t tell Andrew. Even the thought of it broke his heart. Regardless of the kiss, or kisses, they shared, Andrew had become the closest friend Neil had ever had. Neil had to remind himself more than once that everything Andrew thought he knew about Stefan was a fabrication. They spoke about sexuality again, hands brushing off each other, sometimes intertwined, sometimes resting on the others leg or arm. Andrew asked if Neil was gay, and his face fell when Neil said no, I don’t think so. It took him a moment to add on “I don’t know what I am”. They left kisses on each other’s lips that lingered for hours, for days. The more Neil let Andrew in, the harder it was for him to keep lying to his mother. She began to get suspicious of where he was going when she left him alone.

Even still, Neil didn’t hear when Mary came into the playground the last time he seen Andrew. Andrew had his head rested on his shoulder, their hands intertwined and hidden between their outstretched legs. They’d been talking about something and nothing at the same time. Neil’s stomached bottomed out when he saw her brunette hair and tiny figure step around the rusted green fence. He let go of Andrew’s hand as quickly and as subtly as he could, but he knew it was no use. He didn’t know how long she’d been standing there. Andrew looked into Stefan’s green eyes as Neil stood up, searching, scared. Neil sent him a weak smile. This was the last time he would ever look into those hazel eyes, his light eyebrows furrowed as he watched Neil begin to walk away. Neil had nodded his way, and whispered a frightened ‘See you around’ before he walked over to join Mary. She grabbed his arm and pulled him towards their motel room, already mentally packing their bags. Not before she beat him harder than she ever had before. Neil expected it. But every blow reminded him of Andrew until Andrew was no longer gentle touches and honesty and kisses. Andrew was a kick to the back of the knees as he walked through the motel room door. Andrew was a slap, and another, and another. He was a screaming, crying, angry mother, shoving whatever belongings they owned into their single duffel bag. Andrew was leaving their key at reception at midnight and starting their journey to another town. Andrew wasn’t worth it. Andrew was the swollen ankle he walked on for miles. Andrew was Mary pulling roughly at his blonde hair to dye it black in some random gas station that night. He wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it. Neil left Stefan with Andrew in Oakland. He tried to leave the memories there too. Oh, how badly he tried.

The worst part was, Andrew didn’t know that was the last time he would ever see Stefan again. He waited every day for him to come back. Every day came and went and every day he never showed up. Neil didn’t know about that part, you see. Neil thought Andrew would forget about Stefan like a childhood crush, thrown away, moved on to the next cute boy who listened to him talk. They shared a thought, though, drilling the regret and shame into their minds. He wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth it.

(Part 2)

#forgive me if my geography is shit #u might be able to tell I’m Not American #but damn I’m sad now #love those boys #andreil #andreil au #Andrew minyard #Neil josten #tfc #aftg #txt #rambles #also sorry if the names are confusing as hell #Stefan v Neil death match #tfc fic #aftg fic

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

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Hiii may I request Getou + 5 + female reader please? Thank youuu and I hope you have an amazing day/night💗

This is a whole MOOD.

Here you go, sunshine! Thank you for requesting!

Son of My Enemy: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

wc: 1.5k

tw: none

The sounds of the Christmas party in full swing bring you joy.

For years, you begged your mother to let you plan the yearly event that drew the most elite crowd away from the stagnant shores of winter and onto the fertile grasses of the Mitsuhashi estate. This year, you were given full reign to do as you pleased: dress code, invitations, decor, food assortment, everything.

And it looks like months of planning led you straight to success. As the paparazzi attempts to catch photos of the most famous guests from outside, you make your rounds as the hostess for the evening, smiling at old family friends and introducing yourself to the newest addition to the elite crew: Maki and Mai Zenin. Nobara Kugasaki, Maki’s girlfriend, also joined them, her eyes shifting over the crowd as you approached them, but softening up once you mention Louis Vuitton and Emilio Pucci.

“They’re sweet girls,” you think aloud to your best friend, Mei Mei, who simply sips on her champagne and shrugs. “Do you thin--” A flurry of commotion attracts your attention to the front of the ballroom, and two tall males make their way into the room, dressed to the nines in tailor-made suits and simple accessories. Your chin instinctively tilts a little higher when you recognize the sons of two high-ranking Saiko-komons in the Takadashi syndicate.

One of them, Gojo Satoru, is the epitome of a cocky bastard. His strut, his white hair, his blue eyes, and his good looks make him the most popular of the two, despite rumors swirling around his lack of morality and lack of condoms. The other one, Geto Suguru, is less cocky, but more cunning. The black-haired fox face makes a great wingman, you note, noticing how he smiles at everyone in an unassuming way. They’re obviously the Yin and Yang of your age group, and they act like it, too.

“Y/n, y/n, y/n…” Gojo chants, rubbing his palms together when he sees you. “You’ve outdone yourself tonight. This will be a party everyone talks about for a week, then goes back to looking for the next party in time for New Year’s.” You want to smack the smirk off of his face and make it a party everyone talks about for years, but instead, you hold your resolve, letting Mei Mei respond.

“If you two hadn’t drug yourselves into the room, I’m sure they would have talked about the civility of the party compared to last year’s fiasco.” The memory of a destroyed oversized nutcracker flashes in your mind, and you press your lips together in displeasure.

“Why are you two here?” you wonder, and Suguru raises a brow.

“You act like we weren’t invited.”

“By who?” you ask, and Gojo whips out an invitation, the gold, and white color almost exactly like the ones you sent out in July. When you look at the paper, you’re surprised to see Gojo and Getou’s names in raised gold lettering on the invite. “I left you guys off the list this year,” you recall, distinctly remembering telling your assistant that Geto and Gojo would be marked off the list of potential guests and watching her draw a line through the names on her ever-shrinking list.

“You forged it,” Mei Mei grunts, snatching the card. She looks it over as well, then holds it up to the light to see if the watermark - copyrighted by your family - would appear. And sure enough, it did. “Hm. Looks like your brother or your mom has some explaining to do.”

“Yuta’s here?” Gojo presses, and you observe him standing on his tip-toes to see over the crowd easier. When he finds his target, he heads off in that direction, and you flash Mei Mei a look that begs her to follow him. She nods once, then disappears into the crowd. You assume Suguru has left as well, but when you turn around, you’re thoroughly surprised to see him still standing there, eyes drifting over your red sequined dress and strappy gold heels. He lets out an appreciative whistle and murmurs,

“Damn, y/n. You look beautiful tonight.”

“I always do,” you retort, turning away from Satoru’s sidekick while rolling your eyes. He follows you to the bar, where you order a rum and coke, hoping to be rid of the headache that followed you.

“You know, I would’ve thought you’d soften up by now. I didn’t expect you to still be miffed about the--”

“Can we not talk about this here?” you inquire, sighing deeply. Geto shrugs his shoulders and raises a brow.

“Would you rather we talk about it in the broom closet like last time?” You curl your lip up as the bartender delivers your drink, and you wonder if Suguru has any decency left in him as you turn away again, leaving him at the bar.

“I’d rather you leave me alone.”

“My tongue still remembers the way you taste,” he calls out, catching the attention of a few party-goers in the vicinity. You freeze, heat creeping up your neck and cheeks, and Suguru reappears in your line of vision, smirking. “I knew that would get you to pause. Now will you hear me out or will you continue to act like this? My ears can remember the way you scr--” You grab his wrist, growling,

“Meet me upstairs in the drawing-room in ten minutes.” His triumphant smile is enough to let you know he’ll be there.

_____________________________________________________________

The door opens and closes quickly behind you, and you turn to face the intruder with a frown.

“You’re hell-bent on embarrassing me, aren’t you?” Suguru walks past the various couches in the room to approach you, sliding off his dark blue jacket and casting it on a chaise lounge.

“Not as hell-bent as I am to be with you.”

“Just because we fucked while we were on vacation last year doesn’t mean we’re meant to be together,” you counter, crossing your arms over your chest. You don’t really think he’s a terrible person - or a bad lay - but his status as an associate with the Yakuza isn’t doing him any favors. But why would your mother (or brother, for that matter) invite him to the Christmas party?

“I’ve been pursuing you since then, and you’ve been brushing me off,” he notes, fingering the timepiece on the mantle. “But you and I both know why you’re not allowing me to get close to you.” When he rolls up his sleeves, you can see the various tattoos scattered about his forearms. “Just tell me you don’t want me and I’ll leave you alone forever.”

You look over at the man in the firelight and consider telling him to go away and never contact you again, but that would negate your feelings. Sure, you felt attracted to Geto. That much you could admit to yourself. But could you admit that to him?

“I brought you a gift.” He motions toward his jacket, and you sit on the chaise lounge before digging around in the pockets. You pull out a medium-sized white box, and open it slowly, the gleam of diamonds catching your eye. A Vivienne Westwood tennis bracelet sits neatly inside, and you look up at Suguru, who leans on the mantle, eyes watching you carefully.

“You didn’t have to give me anything,” you whisper, but he shrugs, blinking.

“Consider it your Christmas present.”

“But I don’t think--”

“Don’t think too much of it. First, though, I want to apologize for causing a scene. Second, I want you to know that even though I’m part of the Takadashi clan…” Suguru runs a hand through his long hair, sighing. “It doesn’t mean that I’m going to make your life hell. I know what your mother went through with your father, but I swear that I’ll make sure you’re not put in harm’s way. Ever.”

“Yuta invited you,” you realize, and a lazy grin slides over his face.

“He called me and told me your trepidation.”

You shake your head, putting the box down on his jacket, and standing. “Why would my brother tell you that?” Suguru pushes off the mantle and walks toward you, hands now stuffed in his pockets. When he stops in front of you, you contemplate rising up on your tiptoes to reach his lips, but he tilts your chin up with his right hand instead.

“I guess he saw me pining after you and felt bad.”

“He’s not the type to take pity on anyone,” you counter.

“He’s also not the type to be in talks with the Takadashi clan about securing some sort of protection against the other clans, is he?” By now, Geto’s closed the space between you easily, pressing his other hand to the small of your back. “Besides, wouldn’t it be fun to play bodyguard and heiress? Have you tried that?” he murmurs against your lips, and you press yours to his in response.

“It wouldn’t be unheard of,” you reply softly, and he kisses you again, holding you flush against him while you two make out in the firelight of the drawing-room.

#geto x reader #getou suguru #getou x reader #jjk imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jjk geto #geto suguru

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captainshorter · 3 years

Text

We all know that airport scene where Neil calls Wymack to pick him up after he got back from the ravens? Imma write that in Wymack's point of view just because i can, i want to and also because I've recently seen a beautiful art piece from this scene by @lunapiq

Trigger warning: abuse, wounds, self harm, and just all terrible things be careful with reading this.

Wymack was sitting comfortably on the couch, feet on the table and a bottle of scotch in his hands, the TV was on quietly. It was ultimately relaxing, no press, no Abby, no Betsy, no troublesome fo--

He wasn't even finished with the sentence in his head or his phone rang. He grabbed it and flipped it open. Neil's name was on display.

Wymack picked up after he let it ring for a while, "You have a good reason to be bothering me on a holiday?"

There was a soft sigh on the other side of the phone. "I didn't know who else to call." Neil answered. Wymack almost didn't recognise the voice on the other side. He sat up turning the TV off. "Neil?" Wymack's annoyance had changed into worry, "Are you alright?"

"No, I'm not alright. I know it's kinda sudden but can you come get me? I'm at the airport." Neil said. "Stay there, I'm on my way." Wymack answered and he hung up. He was up on his feet and grabbed his keys.

Wymack couldn't help but wonder what had happened, was it Neil's parents? Did his big dumbass mouth get him into a fight again?

Wymack would lie if anyone asked but he drove a little faster than the speed limit. He knew something was terribly wrong if even Neil admitted he wasn't fine, and he claimed often he was fine even if he wasn't.

Wymack arrived at the airport and he parked his car. He walked towards the entrance but he spotted a figure sitting on the curb. Coach had only recognized the kid because of how Neil-like he was sitting, Wymack knew how all of his foxes looked just by looking at how they walked or sit. Everything else about what Wymack thought was Neil, was different, at least everything Wymack could seem, his hair wasn't black anymore, it was an auburn colour. The kid was covered in bandages.

Wymack crouched down and touched Neil's shoulder with a hand. "Up." Wymack said and he helped Neil up to his feet.

Neil looked at him, blue eyes instead of brown eyes scanned Wymack's face absentmindly. Wymack managed to hide the shock and he helped Neil into his car.

Wymack got into the driver's seat and slammed the door shut. He had questions but he waited till they got home.

The kid that looked like Neil had fallen asleep and Wymack had no choice but to carry him upstairs, he could have waken him up but the kid looked tired enough already. He somehow managed to get them both and Neil's bag into the apartment without much trouble.

Wymack grabbed his desk chair from his study room and sat down in the livingroom. Wymack sipped the scotch till it was almost empty and then he closed the cap on it.

Wymack waited patiently for Neil to wake up and when Neil finally did he watched Neil push himself up while groaning.

His face wasn't the only thing bruised up then, Wymack thought.

"I'm sorry." was the first thing Neil said and Wymack had to fight the urge to roll his eyes instead he answered, "He sounds like Neil, but he doesn't look like him. I'll take your explanation from the top without a side order of bullshit."

Neil looked at Wymack quietly before reaching up to his hair.

"No." Neil eyes went wide. Neil stood up and stumbled to the bathroom. Wymack not surprised at all. Neil looked at the mirror and grabbed the sides of the sink. Wymack watched Neil from the doorway. Neil's expression went from confused to concerned to terrified and Wymack noticed he stopped breathing as he gaped at himself in the mirror.

"Breathe." Wymack stepped forward and put a firm hand against Neil's back. Neil started to panic more and Wymack didn't have to think about the next thing to do. He fished a cigeratte and lighter out of his pocket and he lit the cigeratte. The snap of the lighter made Neil turn his head to Wymack and he grabbed the cigeratte from his hand.

Neil's breaths were deep and raspy, like it hurt when he was breathing. Eventually Neil started to cough loudly, which turned into laughing. Wymack didn't know why he was laughing but Neil sounded a little hysterical. Neil covered his mouth with his hand to muffle the sound.

"Neil, i need you to talk to me." Wymack tried to interrupt the laughter, it worked.

"I think i pulled my stitches." Neil said after he caught his breath again, "I feel blood."

"Where?"

"Everywhere." Neil started to clumsily undoing his coat buttons, Wymack slapped his hand away and helped Neil. It was a struggle but they managed to get Neil's coat off. Neil moved on to pull off his gloves. He put the top of the glove into his mouth and he tugged, Neil winced. Wymack noticed the expression on his face and he pried the gauze and tape off his cheek.

Wymack's stomach turned slightly at the sight and he went still, "Neil, the fuck is on your face?"

Neil freed his hand from the glove and touched his fingers to his cheek where the black 4 was tattooed.

He looked at the mirror again and the colour that was left on his face, now completely dissapeared. Wymack was stunned and had certainly not expected a violent reaction. That was the only reason why Neil managed to push past Wymack and Neil shot to the kitchen. Wymack immediately followed and by the time he got into the kitchen Neil had pulled a knife from the wooden block on Wymack's counter. Wymack reacted quickly and seized Neil's wrist before he got to reach the knife to his face. Neil fought back, but Wymack knew Neil didn't stand a chance. He was hurt and bruised, he was panicking because of the thing on his face.

Wymack slammed Neil's hand down om the counter until he lost grip on the knife. Neil reached for it again but Wymack pushed Neil to floor. He put both arms around Neil tightly, there was no way Neil could get free. Wymack felt a pang in his chest, he didn't want to hold his foxes down like this, especially when they were already hurt but he had no choice. Neil still tried to fight Wymack off of him but it was no use.

"Hey," Wymack sounded calm as ever even though in his head it was a emotional mess, "Hey, it's alright." Wymack knew these words weren't necessarily true but at least Neil was safe now, safe with him. "Neil." Neil stopped wriggling in Wymack's grip, his hands held onto Wymack's shirt, one on his sleeve the other crumbled to a fist in the front of his shirt. Neil trembled in Wymack's arms. "Help me." Neil gritted through his teeth.

"Let me." Wymack responded softly. Wymack waited for Neil to catch his breath.

Once Neil's breathing was back to normal Wymack shot a question at him, "What the fuck happened? Last i heard you were spending Christmas with your uncle."

"I lied." Neil responded, "Andrew's coming back to us on Tuesday, all right? If Easthaven hasn't called Betsy yet to arrange the ride they will soon." Wymack was confused, "They called yesterday but what does Andrew have to do with this?" Wymack asked.

"Everything that matters." Neil responded.

"That's not an answer."

Did this have anything to do with before Andrew got taken to Easthaven? When they were in Andrew's house in Columbia? Wymack thought.

"I'm sorry." Neil responded softly. Why did Neil always felt the need to apologise, Wymack didn't know, "Shut up." Shut up, there is nothing to apologise for. There was a silence for a couple of minutes before Wymack spoke up again, "Can i let go of you and trust you to behave or are you going to try to cut off your face again? I want to check on your stiches."

"I'll behave." Neil nodded.

"Forgive me if i dont trust you." Wymack said but he let go of Neil slowly. Wymack took Neil out of the kitchen, away from the knives and sharp things.

Neil couldn't take his shirt off himself Wymack realised that even before he gestured Neil to pull off his shirt. Wymack stood up to get a pair of scissors. Neil held perfectly still as Wymack cut through the front of his shirt.

Wymack didn't say anything about the scars all over Neil's body, but his blood started to boil, he kept his cool for Neil. Wymack scanned Neil's body with a clinical eye. He got rid of the bandage and surveyed the damage underneath them. Wymack stood up and left the room to get a wet towel and also to put himself together. He knew Neil wasn't okay and he also knew who might have done this judging by the four on his cheek but he hadn't expected it to be that bad.

Wymack was there to give his foxes a second chance, to help them, to protect them, he'd failed to do the latter. Wymack went back to Neil with the wet towel and the first aid kit.

Neil tried to take the cloth from Wymack but his hands couldn't keep a grip on them. Wymack pushed Neil's hands out of the way and scrubbed the dried blood from Neil. "One day we're going to talk about this." Wymack said in a low voice.

"After we beat the ravens, then I'll tell you whatever you want, I'll even tell you the truth." Neil answered weakly. Wymack wanted nothing more than to punch the one who'd hurt Neil. But seeing Riko lose in the finals would be a little satisfying too.

#This was so painful to write #aftg #all for the game #neil josten #the foxes #the foxhole court #nora sakavic #andrew minyard #david wymack #coach wymack #Tfc #the raven king #Trk #the king's men #Tkm #Pain #Trigger warning

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tsushimanoonryo · 3 years

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Yakuza!Jin’s tattoos for real this time.

I know I’ve changed them like 800 times, but I’ve finally found some that I think I’m really happy with. The theme (Japanese folklore) is more cohesive and I’m pretty sure this is the last time I’ll change them.

Backpiece: Nine-tailed Kitsune

(Pretend like this one has nine tails... I am trying to work with images I was able to find). Servants of the kami Inari, kitsune are shape-shifting tricksters. There are stories of them behaving both maliciously and benignly toward humans, depending on how they’re feeling at the time. Kitsune with nine tails are very old, and very powerful, bordering on god-like. The kitsune on Jin’s back symbolizes the fact that he’s got a playful side, but isn’t afraid to use all the power of his syndicate to subdue his enemies. [This tattoo was chosen because of Jin’s affinity for foxes in-game.]

Chest/Stomach Piece: Raijin and Fujin

Raijin (the red oni) and Fujin (the blue oni) are the gods of storms and wind respectively. These brothers are constantly fighting, stirring up strife and calamity wherever they go. Jin is sometimes called the Storm of Clan Sakai, so this was an appropriate, albeit tongue in cheek, choice. [This tattoo was chosen because Jin seems to control the weather in the game with his choices.]

Left Arm: Kirin

Sometimes called an Asian unicorn, kirin are auspicious creatures with the body of a deer and the head and scales of a dragon, and the tail of an ox. In the old folklore stories, kirin appeared to new leaders signifying a long and peaceful reign. Jin got this at the behest of his uncle once he was named heir to the Shimura syndicate in hopes that it would signify that he will be a great leader when the time comes to take over. [This tattoo was chosen because the Clan Sakai armor has the antlers of a deer and the scales of a dragon. I fully believe it was meant to symbolize a kirin, even though Kazumasa Sakai was far from benevolent when he wore it].

Right Arm: Onryo

A vengeful ghost who cannot rest until it punishes those who wronged it in life. Jin is efficient and ruthless when he needs to be and can get in and out of places like a ghost. It seemed appropriate. [Tattoo chosen because he’s The Ghost.]

Coverage Style: Munewari

Top row, middle picture. His entire back is covered, as is most of his chest and stomach, save for a small strip of skin running from his neck to his groin. The tattoos wrap around his butt all the way to the front of his thighs. His sleeves go down to just below the joint of his elbows.

#headcanon #v: yakuza #headcanons #jin's tattoos #for real this time #y'all better not let me change these again

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i-did · 4 years

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HELLO 👋 I WAS SENT HERE BY PALMETT-HOES. What are your thoughts on the foxes + tattoos?? Originally it was Neil + tattoos but if you have thoughts of the other foxes too I'd love to hear them if you want to share 🥺

Okay, so I actually might try to become a tattoo artist and love tattoo culture. I also have already about 30 tattoos, some the size of my whole hand and some the size of a quarter, a lot of mixed and matched stuff. I also always try to think of the foxes in their timeline, so 2006-2007 era, and when I think said foxes would get tattoos in their life and why.

NEIL

First off: I personally HC Neil has keloid scarring and a lot of scarring so tattooing is hard on his skin. I have a friend who has more scars than I've ever seen on anyone else IRL before and we both love tattoos but even with him trying to prep the artist, unless they were a scar micropigmentation expert, they usually underestimated how hard it was going to be to tattoo on his skin. It's uneven and dense and doesn’t hold ink well. His non-scarred skin faired a lot better but his skin was something artists just weren't prepared for. I might get some micropigmentation on some skin grafts I got to even out the coloring and make it look more “natural” but I’m waiting to see if the pigment will settle and heal more first.

I personally don't see Neil ever getting a tattoo, and this bums a lot of people out lmao. I think his scars are too thick and too raised and it's too cosmetic and aesthetic centric for it to be something on his radar. On his skin that isn't touched by scars I think he would want to leave as be mostly out of neutrality. I don't see Neil as the type of sentimental tattooer, I see him thinking “well if it matters to me I remember it” sort of and him wanting to keep the really deep stuff personal just for himself and even another person putting it on him is someone else there. I think if he were ever to get a tattoo, he would be like… idk it would be the kind that says “yes I got shot, stop asking” over a bullet hole scar or like that one guy whos missing his leg and above it there's a tattoo that says “one foot in the grave” that's the only type of tattoo I can see Neil doing and even still I'm not convinced he would do it.

ANDREW

I don't ever see Andrew covering up his scars with tattoos either. I think he likes how the armbands can come on and off and be fully covered to not at all. He's not ashamed of them but he's private, and I think the tattoos could seem like he's trying to hide them when he's not-it's just nobody's business. I think if he were to get anything it would be American-traditional, it ages well, its classic, and doesn't really go out of style. Before the…. Let's say 80s, there weren't the different tattoo “styles” like there are today. It was just… tattoos in America. There was Japanese-style tattooing and then American-style tattooing, and since tattooing started curating its underground culture in the ’50s in America… those circles did not blend. They do now, but they sure as hell didn't then. So I could see Andrew with American-traditional because it's classic and I could see it appealing to him, but I could also see Russian prison tattoo style black-work something that appeals to him too. Get him some gulag tats. However if he had those, and since I currently HC him as white and with a buzzed or grown-out messy buzzed head, he would deadass look like a fuckin skinhead so... yeah lmao. Overall I don't see Andrew getting tattoos really, but if he would, American-traditional seems fitting.

KEVIN

Okay, so Kevin out here looking like a MF SoundCloud rapper with his single face tat and nothing else going on. I know it might be OOC but since his mom is Irish and I HC his dad as Maori (even tho in the canon Wymack likely has 90s new age tribalism, which is a complicated issue but instead I choose culturally significant tattoos over the tattoo trend that was largely popularized by a movie lmao anyways-).

So I think Kevin is the only one who dives into tattoo culture and bonds over it with his dad. If he just has the chess piece, it still feels like a branding, like a mark so distinct against the rest of him, but one full sleeve of Celtic knots and symbols and the other arm full of Maori's distinct tattoos of swirls and symbols could be a cool way for him to reclaim his own skin and have it not be something he did just to cover something up, but make tattooing something connecting him to his cultures and family.

NICKY

Nicky is the guy who got like, fierce, or pride, or something like that tattooed if he got a tattoo. I see Nicky getting a pride tattoo of some kind maybe and it being calligraphy or like if Nicky/Erik is a bear then he gets a bear paw. I could also see him getting his and Erik’s wedding date tattooed somewhere. I also don't see him as the type who didn't know how much research and shit goes into finding the artist for you, and kinda assumes you can go to just anyone and just walk in and then was like “wait what” when he couldn’t (or couldn't if he wanted to get exactly what he had in mind) so he probably got/gets tattooed by some non-homophobic apprentice, maybe even that apprentices first tattoo, and also since Nicky is Mexican and darker-skinned I doubt he thinks to put on sunscreen and the sun makes his ink lines bleed and so it doesn't age the best (it be like that).

ALLISON

Got a trendy tramp stamp to like, really stick it to her parents. Right on her lower back I bet it's the classic 2000s swirls and a butterfly and some of those stars, idk what they're called. If she was a young 20-year-old now tho she totally would have gotten a fine line tattoo, like not a tight three, a real 1 needle tattoo. They were seen as really nice back then and “so Cali” and like I could see /maybe/ her getting it done before she's 30 but they were not that common yet and like micro-realism is so new we still kinda don't know how it's going to age at all since tattoos before it have been designed they way they have for aging. Again if she got a micro-realism/single needle tattoo tho it would be something kinda basic like a butterfly or like a lion. I swear I've seen the same google image lion tattooed on a lotta people and like IDC it's your skin. But yeah, she gets the classic 2000s swirl butterfly and stars tattoo above her crack one night, maybe after a really bad phone call with her parents and she got drunk and pissed off. Maybe someone said she couldn't take the pain. (which btw, tattoos don’t hurt as much as they make them out to be in shows and shit, they can hurt tho)

DAN

I HC Dan as very dark-skinned, she's 75% black and 25% Sioux and grew up in a very very white area when outside her home on the res. Tattoo culture is still really sexist and really colorist, and at this point in history I think if she ever did want a tattoo, she maybe asked vaguely about it and they flat out said “I don't know how to tattoo on black skin” or “it doesn't go with my art” which… are shithole excuses and I think she thought, “well fuck u too” and never thought about it much since then.

RENEE

I HC as Renee as darker-skinned than Dan, and like the only places she could possibly get tattooed are maybe her palms, the bottoms of her feet, or her inner mouth probably. Some people genuinely are so dark that tattooing is hard, because it's based on the concept of black ink on a lighter surface, which is why scarification catches on in cultures where the skin is too dark to pigment with ink effectively. However, the idea of fuckin, 15-year-old Renee who is still Natalie with “PU$$Y” tattooed in her mouth kinda sends me. I think lil kid Renee thought she was gangster, and tbh she was, and I could see her getting some “fuck you/in your face” tattoo, especially if she was a lesbian in such a homophobic world, getting that tattooed is even better. We also know she got her back tatted in the EC with angel wings that look almost closer to dragon wings, so I imagine they show up as almost raised dark lines like scars from the untrained tattoo artist going way too deep, making it a cross between a tattoo and scarification, even if accidental. (also white ink really wasn't a thing yet and even now is still kinda hard to tell how it will heal, so that's why I don't think she gets any white ink tats)

MATT

He's a rich boy from NYC, he could really get like… whatever he wants. Once he's famous he can afford it that's for sure, but even before then he could with his allowance similar to Allison (even if on a completely different level). However, I doubt he gets anything lol. He's not particularly religious in my HC and doesn't have the same sense of being lost like I feel Kevin does with his own parents (I mean Kevin was raised like an orphan, kinda so it makes sense). I need to develop Matt’s background further on what it means to him personally to be a Filipino-American. I have several ideas about how his parents met in the Philippines and then came here but I would need to flesh out locations and then local cultures and then his parents said opinions on tattoos and then how matt would react to said opinions. I could see him possibly getting something for dan or his kids tattooed on. Which really makes me want to have him get his first kid's name tattooed really big or intricate somewhere like on his chest over his heart and then his kid comes out as trans and he's like “...fuck” lmao and gets it removed maybe and then redone or something. I see him viewing tattoos are personal and symbolic, and if he would get something it would probably be family-oriented, possibly Dan's portrait or like his baby's footprint which I've seen before.

AARON & SETH

Stick and pokes were not nearly as common then as they are now, and I feel like people kinda have to remember how taboo tattooing was then and still is now in a lot of cultures. My family is Not happy lmaoo. But it is what it is. Stick and Pokes were not a thing bored white middle-class teens did like I see them doing now. It was seen as super sketchy and I know someone who was 16 getting tattooed in a garage by someone who was both drunk and just out of prison for the first time, and that was seen as sketchy as stick and pokes at the time. I could imagine either Seth or Aaron having a failed and fucked up stick and poke tattoo, and out of the two of them, Seth seems like the drunk tat guy. Maybe once he got drunk and mad as fuck after Allison and him broke up and she said he didn't seem serious enough so he got her name drunkenly tattooed on his arm or something and then she was even more pissed because it was spelled wrong “YOU FORGOT THE SECOND L OMFG SETH.” (I can also imagine his future girlfriends don't love it lmao). I also love the idea of Seth just having Marvin the Martian or the Tasmanian Devil tattooed on his ass.

Anyways sorry for the lack of pictures but I didn't want to do that... so I didn't. I didn't go into niche tattoo culture and history like I was expecting myself to but this also got fuckin long. Might not be what you were hoping for at all but it is my current opinion on the foxes and tattoos. (This is also surprisingly free of my own personal aesthetic opinions on tattoos and that I'm kinda proud of ngl, since my preference is none of these, but also I grew up in a very different tattoo time than them)

#aftg #all for the game #ask #mailob #fig writes

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palmett-hoes · 4 years

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YES. Oh my God you explained perfectly the logic behind Neil getting tattoos. I get that people think tattoos fix Andrew's "aesthetic" more cause he wears all black and all but tattoos nowadays are popular and not really a thing that only alternative people get. Anyway -> if Neil got tattoos, do u have an hcs for what he might?

yea the more i think about it the more i really like the idea of neil getting tattoos. and who knows, maybe if his boyfriend starts to get covered andrew will take an interest too. i mean you're right, it does fit his aes. maybe he gets some matching tattoos with the love of his life

WHAT neil would get tho? oh there’s so many factors to consider

i see him having a similar ideology about it as i do, that his tattoos are to memorialize significant people and events in his life. most importantly though, they’re just,, to make him feel good about himself, so they’re all of happy memories, even if some might be bittersweet

it’s also not about full-coverage. he’s fine if his scars are still visible under the tattoo and probably isn’t going to try to religiously cover every single one. it’s about having something good on his body that he chose to put there to combat but not necessarily blot out the bad things done to him against his will

he tends to collect smaller individual pieces rather than large scale work and he’s not committed to a specific style, so his collection is a bit random and eclectic. but in terms of the style generally drawn to very kinesthetic art with a lot of movement and fluid lines, but also angular and hard-edged. i don’t think he’s color-averse and definitely not a strict black-and-gray guy, but at the same time i can’t see him doing like super super bright color work. he goes for darker, more saturated colors, like jewel and natural tones. also of course i see him as brown skinned so you need to approach color work differently anyway

in terms of what he actually GETS, i don’t really have a lot of opinions on placement or like,, what tattoos should cover which scar, but have some random ideas i think he might get

he has a large piece (like maybe a sleeve or thigh) that’s dedicated to his time on the run, but the good parts. it’s a mix of a lot of images and very chaotic, drawing from like,, the french cafe where his most first bought him a cup of coffee and cottage safehouses in the alps in summer and where they had room to stretch their legs and run and chase each other and hustling three card monty in dubai with his mom and diners in the pacific northwest that sold the best fruit pies

he of course gets a lot of tattoos for the foxes, definitely at least one straight-up fox. tiny pawprints are his go-to filler pattern

he has everyone’s signatures somewhere on him, maybe with a tattoo of the Championship trophy being hoisted up by a group of hands. he also has small individual pieces that memorialize each of them individually

definitely got several exy sticks and various other pieces of gear scattered in various places. dark stadium chairs leading down to a brightly lit exy court

andrew is probably his biggest inspiration. he has the photograph of them together in the airport turned into a silhouette like a victorian cameo. a ring of keys; this one might go on the back of his neck. a tire track skid mark. a skeleton sitting on a roof against a sunrise. andrew’s hand sparking a lighter. the only reason he doesn’t have a full portrait is bc andrew says he’ll leave him if he does it

a rabbit skull overgrown by moss and vines and flowers.

he gets a rook and knight chess pieces tat because kevin says that’s what he and andrew would be

he gets some small cheeky ones too. things like a line of script that says “you should see the other guy” with a gun running under a nasty scar or a skeletal arm broken in half

once he starts to really establish who he is and flesh himself out as a person he gets some that don’t necessarily have a lot of meaning but that he just likes the look of because he has the luxury of having opinions on art now

i don’t necessarily know if i want him to cover his facial scars, but i think that’s mostly because i don’t like facial tattoos very much, especially ones located where neil’s scars are. that’s just a personal preference though. however, i think the idea of a minimalist, abstract take of just like,, adding color to the scars might be nice. something like well-saturated brushstroke work

(addendum: an au or something where all neil’s scars are just covered in abstract brushwork would be so fucking beautiful. like this but full-body holy shit)

(i just don’t think it really fits him in canon to have a full-body tattoo scheme. also those would require so much long-term maintenance you’d have to get them redone like every 5 to 10 years)

he also doesn’t get them all at once, this is something he builds up over years. he also doesn’t want to rush it because he wants to stay open to memorialize things that will come in the future, because he has a future to wait for now

---

also i assume you probably want some reference photos too bc this can be a little hard to understand just as words, so here's some of my reference images under the cut

they’re more of a stylistic reference than a content reference. also - as in all things - this will of course also tell you a lot about my own personal taste in tattooing even though i try not to make it based ENTIRELY on what i like and try to factor in what i think neil would like

these were the tattoos that most inspired me about the tattoo idea for neil’s happiest memories with his mother. for some reason my gut really drew me towards architectural tattoos for it. i like the way the perspective on the left image is curved and confusing and it takes you a second to make sense of what you’re looking at. it reminds me a lot of an MC Escher drawing and that’s sort of the exact seeling of chaos and confusion that i think the tattoo needs. but then i was also really drawn to the soft colors of the right image (although they’d have to be adjusted somewhat for neil’s darker skin), because they’re so comforting, and i think that’s the sort of balance i’m looking for out of a tattoo for mary. so like,, compositionally like the left image but colored more like the right

literally every person who’s ever considered aftg and tattoos together HAS to offer up a fox tattoo it’s law. anyway these are mine. or well, the types i can see neil with. also, not aside from the foxes, these tattoos are really the best examples i can find of the angular, kinesthetic art style that i feel very strongly matches neil

inspo behind the tattoo of andrew’s hand with the lighter. also just a good simple style for smaller tattoos or filler tattoos

victorian cameos. inspiration behind both the silhouette tattoos of andrew and neil in the airport and the skeleton & the sunrise. both would be more than just the bust and the poses would be more fluid and they don’t need the brooch design outline. it’s really more of a starter reference or a jumping off point

neo-traditional tattoos. phenomenal style. strong lines and highly saturated color, super important both for a long-lasting tattoo and for tattooing on darker skin. they also just tend to have a certain composition i really like

this is the style i see the championship trophy tattoo, the chess pieces tattoo, the rabbit skull tattoo, and the ring of keys tattoo all in

---

okay i’m done now

thoughts?

#txt #pic #neil josten #my posts #im talkin #ask #anon #anonymous #tattoo #tattoos #foxes w tats

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anobscurename · 4 years

Text

ocean eyes – chris evans

previous part: PART VIII — masterlist

concept: for your birthday, chris takes you to a burlesque club, where you reunite with anthony and sebastian. the first kiss. the slowest of slow burns. part nine of many.

pairing: chris evans x reader

word count: 5.2k

warnings: strip tease, kissing, aNgSt

author's note: nothing i can say will prepare you for the rollercoaster you are about to endure. i hate myself for doing this to you. ya girl really popped tf off on this one.

Looking at Christopher Robert Evans, you wouldn't expect him to be someone who happened to frequent burlesque clubs.

You also wouldn't expect him to have so many tattoos, but that's what a good long sleeve jacket was for.

It would be dangerous for anyone to assume anything about Christopher Robert Evans. And yet, assumptions were made... Just like how you had assumed he would forget your birthday.

It wasn't an unfair assumption, by any means. You had only been living together for about six months, of which he was only there for a few days at a time, before jetting back out to whatever location his film shoot was at.

You were close, but at the same time, not close at all.

It was hard to think of where you stood – neither one of you could really answer that question, and should anyone corner you both separately, you'd both resignedly sigh and claim "just friends."

That was why his gift surprised you on two different levels:

One, he had remembered your birthday. Perfectly friendly enough.

Two, he had gifted you something not quite friendly in the slightest... And that was where waters got murky. But you'd be fucked if you didn't admit just how willing you were to wade into those waters – murky or not.

The box had been delivered to the house late in the morning. Chris had been gone for just over a month this time – 46 days, you were unashamedly keeping count – and his absence didn't go by unnoticed.

Everything reminded you of him, even if he didn't spend a lot of time there.

The box had been from La Perla, and just the name – gold embossed on cream – elicited a visceral reaction of excitement.

You signed for it – a little too eagerly, given the delivery boy's eyebrow raise – before dashing inside to open it.

And now, there it sat, on your bed, silk ribbon still intact.

You weren't unfamiliar with the forever coveted – and forever out of your price range – Italian lingerie brand. But knowing it was from Chris... Your fingers inched towards the ribbon.

Your phone rang, rescuing you from letting your imagination run too wild. Checking the caller I.D., you faltered. It was him.

"Hello?"

"{Your name}! Hey." If you shut your eyes, you could see his smile. "Did you get the gift?"

"Yeah," you responded, a bit more breathless than you would've liked. "Looking at it right now, actually."

"And? What do you think?"

You hadn't the heart to tell him you hadn't opened it yet. "It's..."

You heard a familiar voice in the background. Two of them, actually. "Who's that?" "Is that {your name}? Hey, yo, {your name}! Happy birthday!"

"Guys, cut it out!" Chris laughed, the reciever crackling a little. You could only imagine what was transpiring on the other end: Chris trying to wrangle himself free from his friends all clamouring to get a word in over the phone he was holding just out of reach.

You giggled. "Is that Mackie?"

"Yeah, and Seb. I'm on set with them right now. Decided to drop by, say hi to everyone. Try and convince those two delinquents to come out tonight, but after they heard where I was taking you, it wasn't much of a task. Just managed to sweet talk the producers into getting them the night off."

"It better be great tonight, Kevin really wasn't impressed!" You could hear Seb's muffled shouts from across the room, followed by a "quiet on set!" from a voice you didn't recognize.

Silence was instantaneous from the clamour you had almost gotten used to from the other end.

"Hold on," Chris' voice was hushed. "Gonna get out of their hair before they start filming again..."

You found yourself perching restlessly on the edge of your bed as you waited for Chris to return to the call. There was some shuffling on his end, quiet apologies whispered to passing strangers he was trying to skirt past.

When he got back, he was speaking normally again. "About the gift. It's a bit much, I know. Not exactly Nicole Kidman in Moulin Rouge! but I know how much you love that film, so I thought it'd be fun if tonight... Well, if tonight we visited something close to it."

"You're not taking me to France, are you?" Your heart was in your throat, hoping he'd say no. Not that you wouldn't love to go, it was just that you weren't ready to make a trip that big any time soon. The panic of packing would be all consuming, and that was the last thing you wanted to be doing on your birthday.

His laugh was infectious. "God, no. In this economy?"

"So, where are you taking me, then?" Your eyes had narrowed in suspicion.

"Think Moulin Rouge, but smaller and more local."

"Oh..." There was one name that came to mind – Vulpecula, the Latin word for "little fox". A burlesque club, every bit as elite as the club you used to be a waitress at.

"Oh," he agreed. Even over the phone you could see the smug smile on his face. He had recalled you mentioning how you'd always wanted to go there, but could never get in. The moment he heard that, about four months prior, he had excused himself from the conversation – having given you some perfectly justifiable explanation at the time, reasonable enough for you to not suspect anything different – and promptly booked a front seat table there for your birthday. "So, listen, I'll be home in... Let's see, they have an hour left here before they wrap, from Georgia to L.A., that's four, maybe five hours...? So let's say no more than seven hours? I should be home by dinner, have a quick shower, and be ready to meet Seb and Anthony at Vulpecula around nine for the reservation. Sound good?"

That was in... One glance at the clock on your bedside table confirmed it. Ten hours time by the looks of it.

Ten hours was more than enough time for you to pick something Vulpecula worthy and get ready. You hoped. "Sounds good."

"Alright, see you in a bit."

You said your goodbyes, the thrill of finally going to a burlesque club beginning to rise. Your thumb hovered over the "end call" button, about to press, when Chris interjected one last time.

"Oh, and {your name}? Happy birthday."

———————

True to his word, Chris was home for dinner. "Dinner" being two pizzas balancing precariously in one scopic hand – held aloft, well out of Dodger's eager jumping reach – and roses clutched firmly in the other.

"You're back."

His face lit up at your presence, tired eyes becoming wide awake once more. "Hey there, birthday girl."

You let him put down the pizza and flowers first before you sprinted into his arms. The scent that you could only reconcile with airplanes from his flight clung to him, but if you inhaled deeper, the smell that was so distinctly Chris was there too.

He chuckled, hugging you back every bit as enthusiastically, even going so far as to pick you up and spin you around, Dodger yapping excitedly at the situation.

"I missed you, you asshole."

"I missed you too," he sighed into your hair.

You pulled apart. "You have no idea how quiet it gets here when you're not around. I almost feel bad for the shampoo bottles, they haven't heard you sing in a month now and it's– What? What are you staring at?"

A stillness had overcome Chris as he held you at arm's length, hands resting just above your elbows. He was looking at you.

"Just you," he affirmed softly. There it was again, that smile. "You look gorgeous. Doesn't she look beautiful, bud?"

Dodger, suddenly bored of the interaction, dashed off to go retrieve some chew toy or another.

"Guess he doesn't think so," you shrugged, suddenly shy under that molten ocean gaze.

"Don't listen to him. He doesn't know what he's talking about."

———————

Vulpecula didn't disappoint. Your eyes were wide in awe, almost wishing they were wider so as to take in as much as you possibly could. You were right by the stage, all of you seated in plush, velvet chairs. You sat around a gold and black vintage marble-top table cluttered with empty bottles and half full drinks.

Anthony and Seb – after showering you with birthday wishes and small gifts now residing in your discarded coat pockets – were reclined in their seats, drinks in hand, talking low to one another. You had heard a snippet of their conversation in passing. They had been debating how long you and Chris would last in this will they, won't they charade.

The very thought of a will they had your eyes rolling. As if that would ever happen. You didn't need to remind yourself: friends. Just friends, nothing more.

Sultry music, moody lighting, and the hint of wine and expensive perfume mingled with French cigarette smoke all invaded your senses.

"They look amazing up there," you whispered in reverence, eyes never leaving the dancers.

Chris leaned in, shoulder brushing yours. The natural magnetic pull he had on you snapped you out of your wonderstruck state, and you tilted your head to hear him better. His breath was hot against your ear as he struggled to be heard over the music. "Not as amazing as you look right now."

You shrugged the compliment off. It wasn't lost on you, the reason he enjoyed these types of clubs. "Yeah, but I could never do what they're doing right now."

"I don't know," he cajoled. "I've seen you dance before. You've got moves."

He was referring to one particular evening where you had decided to settle your differences over The Impromptu Never Have I Ever Swim™ – namely, who was at fault – with a dance battle. But that was nothing.

You quirked an inquisitive brow. "Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"No suggestions here," he said, hands raised in submission. "I'm just saying you've got moves."

At your scoff, he leaned in again. You weren't entirely oblivious; the implication of his words were crystal clear: "And you could out dance anybody in this room."

"Is that a challenge, Evans?" The smirk came easy to your wine darkened lips as you brought the flute of champagne to them for a sip. You had been rather indulgent in your mixing of alcohols all night, and compliance was becoming incredibly enticing.

"You can't compete where you don't compare, and these girls don't even come close."

The dismissive wave he gave the stage had caught the attention of Anthony and Seb, and they were now listening and watching intensely, both trying to hide their amusement behind their tumblers of whiskey.

"You are challenging me," you gasped in mock disbelief.

"If anything, it's a request," Anthony had attempted to disguise his commentary behind the whiskey glass, but had failed. The whole table had heard, earning him a slap on the arm from Seb and an amused quirk of your lips. "What? I'm just saying what we're all thinking. We're all thinking it."

"I'm not about to be sweet-talked into making a fool of myself by the likes of you, Christopher," you teased, turning your attention back to Chris.

He smirked. "I dare you."

"You really don't think I'll go up there." It was more a statement than anything. He knew the need to prove him wrong would heavily outweigh your dignity, and you hated that he knew that.

He shrugged, noncommittal, but still smirking. "I have no inclination to what you will or won't do."

That was it. The thread he'd been pulling at all night had finally unravelled, and it was probably the alcohol that had dulled your better judgement, but it was your birthday, for fuck sakes, and you felt like doing something memorable and insane.

"Guard my drink."

And then you were up, making your way to the dimly lit steps leading up to the stage.

If you had been there with anyone else, you would've been escorted out immediately. But that was the thing about loyal patronage, fame, and money... You could get away with almost anything. Your status was immediately elevated just by being in their company.

Seb watched you, mouth agape, as you sashayed to the front and centre. "Holy shit, she's doing it."

Uproarious applause met your arrival as your steps pulled the attention of the audience, but you could hear and see Anthony whoop in support above them all.

"How the hell did you pull this one off, Evans?" Anthony asked as he sat back down to enjoy the show, face laminated in a permanent smile.

"What can I say? I know my girl," Chris winked.

Seb sighed, digging some cash from his pocket. "You win, I guess," he grumbled as he handed over the money to Chris.

"That's mine, thank you." Anthony plucked it from Seb's fingertips. "You too, blue eyes. Hand it over."

"But I won," Chris all but pouted, confusion creasing his brow.

"You said you could get her up there with them in ten," Anthony corrected. "I said you could do it in five if she had the right amount of Moët in her. And would you look at that..." – he plucked the near empty bottle in question from the table to display to his friends – "the perfect amount of Moët."

Chris yielded. He fished some stray bills from his pocket and paid his fee.

The entire exchange was lost on you, however, as the song changed. There was a hush over the club as the music faded, and suddenly, there was a spotlight on you. The other dancers stood back, watching you in delight.

And then the music began to play.

And you began to move.

You were mesmerizing, incredible in your command of the stage. The sway of your rolling hips, the placement of your hands, roving over your body suggestively, but not overtly sexual. That was the beauty of burlesque – it was to sell sex without outright giving it, and it was as if you'd danced there your whole life, the way it flowed so naturally through you.

"Would you look at her up there?" Anthony breathed, something akin to pride in his eyes. Your relationship with the Falcon actor was strange – something close to siblings. Although, if you were to think about it, no big brother would ever be as proud as he was to be watching his little sister dancing at a burlesque club. It had been less about the dance, though – and all about the joy he could see emanating from you.

You liked being the centre of attention for one night. And you very much were.

The interaction at the table was practically forgotten as your friends stared up at you in admiration.

And when your hands traced your curves, moving languidly to the zipper at the side of your dress, Chris' breath visibly stuttered. And when the dress was slipping off of you – straps slinking off the delicate slope of your shoulders to allow the pooling of the fabric at your feet – Chris leaned forward in his seat, entirely bewitched.

You were wearing it – the lingerie he had bought for you.

It was a pretty little number – light champagne coloured silk, trimmed in black lace. It fit you like a glove, hanging off your frame in a way that revealed enough to stir a desire to see more, but not enough to have you shying away in discomfort in front of all the onlookers. The neckline was low, and the skirt fell just above mid thigh.

And still you danced, motions slow to the music, toying with the skirt, the straps, your hair. For that single moment, you were seduction incarnate.

He couldn't look away. You were everything in his world, the only thing in it. You were his world.

When you made eye contact with him, out in the darkness at the edge of the stage, he could've sworn he'd forgotten how to breathe.

You sank to your knees, sensual, undulating, gathering your now discarded dress. The smirk you had – so often teasing – was beckoning, mirroring the intent in your eyes.

You slowly dragged your eyes over Chris, taking in the state of him. What you had rendered him. The hold you had over him was tangible – the awed set of his agape jaw, the way his eyes were glazed with such intensity and want. It stirred something in you, something in the pit of your belly.

You cast him a coy wink before you lazily tossed the dress to him as if you hadn't a care in the world.

Sebastian sucked a whistling breath through his teeth when the song ended. "Who was that girl?"

Chris shifted in his seat, trousers having grown immeasurably uncomfortable. He found himself dumbfounded. "I have absolutely no idea."

———————

The excitement of the stage was still coursing through you when you returned to the table.

Anthony, who had rightfully given you a well-deserved standing ovation, gave you a massive bear hug that lifted you off the ground and had you giggling. "Wow," was all he said. And then, louder: "Wow!"

Nearby patrons cheered in agreement, and you felt your cheeks flush. "Stop it," you rolled your eyes.

"No, he's right," Seb smirked. "Isn't that right, Chris?"

Seb had tilted his head to peer at Chris past you and Mackie, cocky at having caught Chris out.

Chris – having crossed his legs to conceal the effect you had on him – could barely even look at you. "Yeah," he cleared his throat; it didn't help chase the rasp from his voice. "It was quite something."

You exchanged a slightly annoyed look with Anthony. "I don't see what your problem is, I was only doing what you wanted."

You plopped down in your seat, immediately taking a sip from your champagne. Chris' eyes followed your action, attentative – even more so when you caught a drop at the corner of your lips with your deft tongue.

As if he wasn't already hard enough.

And then his undoing – you spotted your dress. It was still exactly where it had landed when you'd tossed it, splayed across his lap. Unthinkingly, you reached for it, your fingers grazing his crotch and–

His hand shot forward, intercepting you, seizing your wrist in an iron grip. He looked to almost be in pain. "Don't."

What happened next, you didn't blame the alcohol this time, or the thrill the stage had left you with, or anything else. This was all you.

The air had been thick with desire – that all consuming want – and there was a glassiness in his blown out pupils – a need – that had spurred you on.

You grabbed him by his shirt, pulling him to you. Tilting forward, you captured his lips in a hungry starving kiss. He stiffened, before melting, becoming putty in your hands, kissing you back with a passion that set your entire soul and body ablaze. It was sloppy, liquor heavy on both your lips. He moaned into you, hot tongue swiping against the seam of your lips, begging for entrance. Entrance which you granted, whimpering as he deepened the kiss.

You had clambered onto his lap in the frenzied urgency. The hiss of pleasure he gave at the slow grind of your hips against him was almost enough to make you come undone then and there.

Searing hands travelled your body, fingertips digging into soft flesh every time you rubbed against him just so. He traced your curves, encompassing all his hands could reach without ever crossing the line you so desperately wanted him to. He was a gentleman, first and foremost – although he kissed like he hoped to devour you.

Your own hands carded through his hair, tugging at the strands, eliciting throaty groans you never dreamed of hearing from him. His lips muffled every mewl of pleasure you emitted, and for that you were thankful, because once his hand came to rest around your throat, you knew you were done for.

"Fuck," he growled out against your lips.

You finally pulled apart, head swimming and breathless. "Let's get out of here."

He stared at you for the longest time. You, who looked so beautiful with your kiss swollen lips. You, who was sat in his lap, looking down at him, eyes telling innocence, but lips suggesting sin. You, who was finally his. "You must know what you're doing to me."

You stifled a moan as Chris tilted your head back, gently leaving a trail of featherlight kisses from your jaw to your collarbone. Your toes curled, and you knew that if someone were to ask you your name in that moment, you wouldn't be able to tell them. "And what's that?"

"Driving me fucking crazy."

———————

You were still in absolute disbelief, convinced you'd wake up and this would all be a dream.

But it wasn't a dream, and you were there, with him, and your lips still throbbed in the remembrance of that kiss...

"Hold on," you said. Chris reluctantly halted his steps, turning to look at you. "Just wait here, I need to go get my coat."

"Don't be long," he said, voice low and soft.

You gave him a goofy half smile, still kiss drunk. "No promises."

You dashed off to the coat check station, leaving Chris in the foyer.

Ten minutes, that was how long it took. That was the number you would put to the time it took for absolute devastation to occur.

It wasn't your fault there was a line at coat check. Just like it wasn't his fault he happened to run into a particularly gorgeous woman from his past in just those ten minutes.

"Chris Evans?"

He spun at the sound of his name ringing out in the empty foyer. The music of Vulpecula was still faintly going in the background, muffled by the gilded gold doors that granted entry.

"Hey! Long time no see," he grinned. "I haven't seen you since...? Wow, it must've been ages."

"Since we broke up, yeah," she nodded in slow agreement.

"How's," he snapped his fingers, hoping to jog his memory. "Don?"

"We broke up, actually. About a month ago."

"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that." He made his consolation known through a friendly pat on the shoulder, thumb rubbing circles on the skin revealed by her sleeveless dress.

And it was at that moment you returned, seeing him and the woman, too close to be entirely platonic. He wasn't guilty of anything, you knew that. But the hand on the shoulder...

He hadn't noticed you yet, so you were given ample time to dissect the unfolding situation.

It dawned on you exactly why it bothered you so much. The way he was touching her, it was how he had touched you. Not in Vulpecula, no, but every day leading up to it. And it could've meant one of two things:

The first was that it was friendly. Suggesting that he had seen you as nothing more than a friend before... Before you'd fucked it up.

Or the second... That he had seen you as something more all along, and that was what he perceived her as right after that kiss you had both shared.

And honestly, you didn't know which was worse.

"I'm going to be in town for the next few days if you wanted to grab a drink and catch up..." You had stalked past them in that moment, coat draped over your arm, catching her words in passing.

Chris' eyes followed you as he spoke, distracted by your shift in mood. "I'm actually here with someone..."

He trailed off, watching as you didn't even look at him as you brushed past. "Um, hold that thought," he said, already starting to follow you out. Her entire existence was dismissed by his need to get to you and discover why you were suddenly giving him the cold shoulder. "It was great seeing you again, tell Don I say hi – wait, no, scratch that–!"

He was practically yelling over his shoulder as he chased you down. "{Your name!} Wait up!"

You didn't stop, but you were at a disadvantage – your heels, his long legs – and he caught up to you easily. His hand on your shoulder was enough to make you flinch. Who knew you could read so much into the touch of a shoulder? "Hey, what's wrong?"

Your heart could've broken at the gentleness of his voice. Could've. You'd steeled yourself already, and it was glaringly noticeable. "Nothing is wrong, Chris, forget it."

"Just wait–"

You shrugged his hand off your shoulder. "I said forget it."

"I won't," he stepped closer. "Not when I can see something is bothering you."

"Well, I will," you stated, voice flat. You turned away from him to continue your retreat. "Can we just go home?"

When he refused to budge – instead looking at you with those mournful blue eyes of his, you sighed, exasperation and a touch of anger laced through. Why were you so upset, anyways?

"Chris, I just want to go home. I'm tired and I want to get out of this ridiculous fucking outfit so please. Please can we go home?"

He watched as you backed away from him, already pushing open the foyer door to step out onto the curb. His voice was so soft when he next spoke, you hadn't even heard him over the sudden symphony of noises from outside.

"Okay. Okay we'll go."

———————

"Hey, Evans!"

Chris peeled his eyes away from your silhouette to find new purchase on the person who'd called him. He'd been watching you try – and fail – to get a cab for a little over five minutes now. He was still trying to puzzle through your sudden tonal shift, and had ended up simply staring at you from afar for what felt like ages. His eyes burned. Had he blinked? He couldn't recall.

"What are you still doing here?" Anthony hollered from the other side of the foyer. As he drew closer, his voice lowered. "I thought you guys left a while ago."

"Is {your name} around?" Sebastian asked, still in the midst of shrugging on his coat that he'd just retrieved from coat check. "We wanted to say goodbye before we headed back to the hotel. Early flight and all that."

Chris struggled to find his voice, and when he did, it didn't sound much like himself. "She's outside, getting a cab."

"Oh, you guys are gonna go home and—" Anthony wiggled his brows suggestively.

Seb was quick to land a gentle slap on Anthony's shoulder, a silent hint to shut the fuck up. "I know that face. And that voice." Sebastian drew closer – approaching Chris almost like one does a wounded animal – and placed a consoling hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

"I... I don't know," Chris sighed. His voice sounded strangled, even to him. "She won't talk to me. Wants nothing to do with me by the looks of it."

Anthony pursed his lips. "Well, what did you do?"

"Why?" Sebastian sighed in exasperation. The question was addressed to no one in particular – except maybe God.

Anthony ignored him. "Man, do I have to spell it out for you? She's crazy about you, giving you those big doe eyes everytime you come within a five mile radius. That is some love shit if I've ever seen it," he chortled to himself. Snapping out of it, he leaned in menacingly – big brother mode activated. "So what did you do?"

"Oh, man..." Chris groaned, trying to remember the events that had led to this point. "Well, she was getting her coat."

Anthony nodded slowly, showing he was following. "Right."

"And this girl I used to date, she came over and we started talking."

"You've lost me," Mackie said, still nodding.

"What do you mean?"

Lightning quick, Anthony smacked Chris upside the head. It wasn't hard, a love tap at most, but it still made Chris grimace. "What do you mean, what do I mean? Honestly, both of you are so clueless. Man, she's perfect for you. Literally, perfect. So what are you talking to your ex for?"

"It wasn't like that, Ant," Chris groaned, rubbing the back of his head. "Wait, do you think she thinks...?"

"I don't know what she thinks. What I think, is that you should fix it. As soon as possible."

"Guess I'm in the lead again, huh?" Sebastian slid his hands coolly into his pockets, rocking on his heels.

Chris frowned. "You guys bet on us?"

"Not with money. With something much more meaningful," Seb smiled.

Anthony nodded sagely. "The settlement on who the Black Widow belongs with."

Chris winced. "That's a lot."

"Well, I had faith."

"He's Team Chris-and-{Your Name}-Should-Get-Married," Seb nodded toward Mackie. "I'm Team Let-Them-Live-Their-Lives."

"Yeah, the names are still a work in progress," Anthony admitted.

Chris sucked in a deep breath, fatigue suddenly hitting him like a freight train. "Well, it's late. You guys should probably get going. I'll text you with an update tomorrow."

Anthony had already started heading out, Sebastian at his side. He swiveled to face Chris. "If I'm not scandalized by what's about to go down tonight, don't even bother."

Sebastian took Mackie by the shoulder, guiding him away. "I'm going to take him back to the hotel before he has an aneurysm," he smiled apologetically. "He hasn't planned yours and {your name}'s wedding in a little over four hours now."

As they departed the building, Chris could still hear Anthony calling out to him.

"I want to be scandalized, Evans! Scandalized!"

———————

"What part of forget it is not getting to you, Christopher?"

He leaned against the doorframe of your room, arms folded and legs crossed at the ankles.

"I just want to know what I can do to make it better. Tell me what I can do to make it better."

You gently removed your earrings, tossing them on your desk, before removing your coat. When you'd gotten home, you'd gone straight to your room, and, in a great imitation of Dodger, Chris had followed you there. "It's nothing."

"Tell me what I did wrong so I can fix it."

"That's exactly it, Chris. It's nothing. We were both drunk, and it will never happen again. It was nothing. So forget it."

You couldn't even look at him, instead choosing to speak over your shoulder. Because if you had seen him, been looking at him, you would've seen the hurt in his eyes, the pain in the set of his jaw. Your next words were a dismissal: "Thank you for the gift. Good night."

But it wouldn't be a good night, not for either of you.

You were too tired to cry, too tired to sleep, too tired to dream. You were just so... tired.

And Chris... He spent the night sleepless. Entirely unable to do what you asked, and forget. You had seared yourself into his mind, and he was entirely incapable of forgetting.

#dina writes #chris evans #chris evans fanfic #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans/you #chris evans angst #chris evans fluff #anthony mackie #sebastian stan #ocean eyes #i really did this to myself huh

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falcor-thee-luck-dragon · 4 years

Text

Klaus Hargreeves x Powered Reader

-Watch and Learn-

Warnings: buffoonery ensues, fun times

This gif is beautiful and represents the reader v well.

Masterlist

Do you realize shoplifting is bad, yes. Are you about to do it on a dare, also yes. You see, Klaus has been up to no good recently, you put it up to his desperation for your complete and undivided attention.

For about a month you were over in Australia visiting an old friend, and your poor Klaus was left all alone to fend for himself, for 30 whole days. You were honestly surprised that your apartment didn’t burn down, or look incredibly trashed with random street cats walking around it.

Amazingly enough, everything was intact, but oh man did Klaus miss you. For the first day he wouldn’t even leave your side. The two of you laying on the couch and Klaus couldn’t keep his hands off of you. Not that you minded, he was needy and very handsy that night. So let’s just say, no movie watching was happening.

But back to your current situation, here you are outside a high end clothing store, and you’ve never been more ready in your whole life.

“Remember the goal Y/N, some shiny bracelets, sunglasses, a pricy pricy shirt, and something special for, muah.” Klaus purred sweetly in your ear trying to throw you off, but you remain unflinching and determined.

“Piece of cake, this will be a record haul.” You tell him with a mischievous smirk as he grins back at you.

The two of you casually walk into the store, you’ve put on your long blonde wig and dark sunglasses to better conceal your identity if things did in fact go south. Klaus didn’t try much to disguise himself as he walked in looking like some carefree wanderer, but then again, he’s the distraction.

He walks to the nearest group of employees and begins an over dramatic display of fascination for a certain hat that is laying a top a mannequins head. You make a beeline for the jewelry, finding your prize and nonchalantly sliding them into your inner jacket pocket. Easy money. Next you practically glide over to the sunglasses, looks around you before snatching your favorite pair, ripping off the tag and placing them casually into your coats inner pocket. Yours now.

You scan the store for the shirt isle, easily enough your eyes land down an isle to your left where you let out muffled snort. Klaus now has dark glassed Harry Potter looking specs as well as a fancy cowboy type hat. All in all he looks relatively good, like a sexy desert traveler who’s about to steal some hearts. A smile forms onto your face as you briefly watch him keep up his dramatic act of being the best shoplifting distraction you could have asked for.

Turning back to the pricy isle of shirts that altogether probably cost more then your car, well that is if you actually payed for it. You continue forward, your eyes scanning over the silk and leather fabrics, over ones encrusted with jewels and animal fur that you’re hoping is just fux fur. Your keen eyesight finally stills onto a gorgeous Gucci sweater that practically screams take me. You glance up and find where the nearest security cameras are, spotting them, you pull your attention back to the task at hand. You run your hands down the sleeves and swiftly tug, the sweater comes off the rack and makes a quick descent towards the polished tiled ground.

As sly as a fox you kneel onto the tiled floor, picking it up and sliding it into your coat where it’s completely hidden from any prying eyes that might not be minding their own business. With a smirk you stand up, taking the empty rack and calmly sliding on a new sweater that you found at the local thrift store, that’s been patiently waiting for its next clothing rack. You turn down the isle watching Klaus sweet talk an employee who seems to be under his little spell. You can’t help it when your jaw clenches in subconscious jealousy, you know it’s all for show but still, only you get that adorable smile and emerald eyes that at least they can’t see due to his current fashion statement.

Shaking those thoughts away, you ground yourself again to what you and Klaus actually came here for. Now to find something special for your man, scanning over the brightly lit store your eyes widen in excitement at the beautiful jewel encrusted golden snake necklace that only queens of Egypt should be allowed to possess. You coolly walk over to the necklace, your nerves racing in a bustle of excitement as you make it to the glass case that surrounds it. You shift your eyes once to the left and then once to the right, surveying the area for any intruders. No ones in the nearest proximity due to Klaus’ amazing ability to draw in a crowd practically anywhere.

“Oh and look at you, Klaus is gonna love you, not as much as me but hmm you are one beautiful snake.” You whisper to the glimmering metal hiding behind the stores attempt at a security precaution. Reaching out your hand you simply use your power and defy the laws of what humans should be able to do. Your hand phases through the see through glass where you promptly pick up the dazzling trinkets made for royalty. You silently stick it into your bra and turn around, making your way down the isle and towards Klaus and his crowd of high end retail workers.

You walk past him and give him a wink, he takes the subtle hint, says his goodbyes and trails after you towards the doors. You slow down your pace so he can catch up, a sudden arm slings over your shoulders as he kisses the side of your cheek.

“My dear you would not believe what a bunch of kiss-asses those guys are. Enough to match Luther honestly.”

“Well you seemed to be handling them just fine from what I could see.”

“Huh yeah, they thought my tattoos where interesting.”

“They did, didn’t they.”

“Ohhh were you...were you, gettin a lil jealous Y/N?”

“What? Jealous of a couple of blonde bimbos, you need your eyes checked babe.” Klaus lets out a laugh as he opens the stores door for you. You avoid eye contact, your frustration slowly building until he reaches for your open hand. The contact and the way that he leans into your side instantly calming your agitation once again.

“Alright fine. That was admittedly mean and unnecessary, and yeah okay I was a tad bit jealous...but come on Klaus. You make me feel things.”

“Aww Y/N you’re so cute, my little thief. So watcha get?”

“Oh some of this some of that. I’ll show you when we get back to the apartment. I’m gonna have to come back later and destroy the security footage.”

“Oh right, that silly thing those pricey stores like to do. Security cameras.”

“Ruining fun for burglers since they were invented by some paranoid prick.”

“Eh they have their uses.” Suddenly his attention snaps over to a hotdog vendor further down the sidewalk, “Oh hey, you want a street sausage...and I’m not talking about mine..ah Jesus Y/N I was kidding don’t hit me.”

“Klaus.”

“You have a strong arm. It was a serious question before you assaulted me.”

“Babe we have stuff that’s worth more then the building we live in. We should just go home, we have leftover Thai in the fridge.” Klaus abruptly halts the both of you, shifting your body so he can rest his hands on either side of your shoulders as he looks deeply into your eyes, his face shifting into a pleading expression.

“But my tum tum is grumbling...listen to it Y/N...it says feed me or I’ll die of hunger.”

“Wow I didn’t realize you could speak stomach. Klaus you are truly full of surprises.” You deadpan with lack of facial movement but a low sigh coming from your parted lips.

“Do not antagonize me woman this is serious.” He gives you the biggest and most adorable puppy eyes, trying with all of his might to sway you to the dark side. You roll your eyes as a smirk tugs at the corner of your lips. His eyes go wide in excitement, knowing he’s won you over with his usual Klaus charm.

“My lovely lady, you are a gem among the city sewage.”

“Thanks Klaus. You really know how to make a girl feel special.”

“That’s what I do babes.” Replies Klaus with a quick kiss to your lips before he drags you over to the vendor, that admittedly smells quit delicious if you’re being honest. He orders a simple dog for the both of you, actually paying for it himself to your great astonishment. Then he slathers his in toppings as you select a few of your own, then it’s through the city park to reach your apartment. The two of you and your concealed stolen goods, walking casually down the parks walking trail as you both happily munch on your hotdogs.

“Maybe I have too much on mine.” You have a look at Klaus who’s face is smeared with ketchup and mustard as he fumbles with is already messy napkin while you take another bite from your own hotdog in an attempt at concealing your laughter. “Seriously Y/N, it’s all over my face now, I’m a mess.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Ben don’t laugh..” Whines Klaus with a pout as he glances over at you who’s definitely losing your shit. “Okay fine, it was pretty funny.”

“You walked right into it. I couldn’t help myself.”

“Well Ben’s about to pee himself if you’d like to know so good job at that.”

“Thank you thank you I’ll be here all night.” You bow to no one in particular as Klaus finishes off the last bit of his hotdog. You hand him your napkin as you throw your dirty ones in the nearby trash can. Klaus doing the same, now looking much less of a mess, both on his face and hands. He swiftly catches up to you and practically throws himself onto you. You stagger to the side as his full weight begins dragging you downward towards the wet pavement, oh no you are not about to have his lanky ass get you all dirty. As a witches cackle escapes from your mouth you use your phasing abilities and a second later your idiot boyfriend has fallen onto the cold cement. He lets out a yelp as his hands reach out to catch his fall, he does a little tumble before sitting on the ground, a annoyed huff leaving his lips.

“Eww Y/N I was in you.” Whines Klaus as he picks himself up once again, you cross your arms and bite your lip in amusement.

“You didn’t think so this morning.”

“That was very different.”

“Yeah well your fatass was about to send me into the dirt. I happen to like this coat and would prefer to keep it looking snazzy.”

“Your snazzy can kiss my buns, I’m going home and then I can be in you...but not in that way.” He quickly adds as he reaches out for your hand, you gladly accept his appealing invitation and just like that the two of you make your way out of the park and towards the apartment building where some fun times await.

#klaus hargreeves #klaus hargreeves x reader #klaus hargreeves x you #klaus hargreeves imagine #the umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #the umbrella academy x you #falcor the luck dragon stories

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illfoandillfie · 4 years

Note

Hey darling, for prompt weekend can I have B1, C4, and F14 with either Roger or Ben? You’re the best and the greatest!

her you go darling! I went with Ben since most of the requests have been for Rog and I wanted somethign a lil different lmao Hope you like it!

Extensive talking during foreplay and sex + In costume + In a bath tub

The party had been fun, right up until your friend and her boyfriend snuck off together, leaving you in a room full of strangers. The host was one of her friends that you’d met in passing once or twice but couldn’t pick out of the mass of costumed people, and that was the strongest connection you had to anyone there. You were contemplating leaving, texting your friend so she knew where you’d disappeared to and just calling an Uber or something. You even had your phone out, composing the text, when you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Cher right?”

“Sorry?” you turned, hoping the man in denim overalls and a short sleeved red shirt that you’d come face to face with, could hear you over the noise.

“You’re dressed as Cher from… fuck I had the name a second ago…Clueless,”

“Correct on both counts. Good spot Mario”

He laughed and shrugged, “It’s an easy costume to throw together. But my friend is dressed as Luigi so I’m not the only unimaginative one,”

“My friend is dressed as Dion but she ditched me to make out with her boyfriend,”

“Group costume then?”

“Yeah. One we’ve used a couple of times now, but shhh,” you held your finger over your lips.

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Can I get you another drink?”

“That’d be lovely, thanks,”

“I’m Ben by the way, probably should have said that earlier,”

“Y/N,”

“Pretty name. Give me a minute and I’ll be back with another,” he indicated your mostly empty cup and then turned and disappeared into the crowd congregating near the alcohol.

You slipped your phone back into your purse. Maybe the party could still be fun.

When Ben returned he handed you a fresh drink and you found yourselves heading outside where it was a little easier to talk.

“So, your friends ditch you to make out too or?”

“Not quite. I ditched them to talk to you,”

“Well I’m flattered,”

“I take it you don’t know anyone else here,”

“Nah, you?”

“Not really. But at least we can be the weird outsiders together,”

You laughed and held up your cup, “cheers to that,”

For a while you stayed out in the cool night, finding a spot on the lawn to sit and chat. Ben was nice, sweet. He asked about your job and your friends and your pets, made dumb jokes you found hard not to laugh at, told you about himself. And he flirted. Openly and shamelessly. It was cute though. He shuffled closer so you were practically sitting on top of each other, his hand slipping behind you, palm to the ground for him to lean his weight on as he reached over to brush a strand of your hair back. The conversation was full of suggestion and innuendos, said with a boyish smile and an easy laugh, once or twice a bitten lip. It was hard to resist. Especially when you hadn’t expected anything like it to happen. But being chatted up by a cute boy was definitely an improvement on the night before he’d introduced himself. And really, getting a little action would be very welcome. So you flirted back, a hand on his arm or his chest as you laughed at his jokes. Licking your lips to draw his gaze. So, when he leaned in to kiss you, you let him and you kissed him back and you wrapped your arms around his neck to keep him there.

It was clear where things were headed so you suggested finding somewhere a little more private. Unfortunately there were people spread throughout the entire bottom floor.

“Upstairs?” Ben asked, pulling you by the hand back towards the hallway.

“Isn’t it roped off so people don’t go up there?”

“No one’ll notice if we’re careful,”

You giggled and agreed, Ben climb over first and then gave you a hand stepping over too. That was when you saw it.

“You have a tattoo!”

“Shhhh,” Ben laughed, trying to tiptoe up the stairs, “Yeah I do,”

“Can I see it?”

“Let’s find a room first. What about,” he pushed open the first door and found a bathroom, “Will this do?”

“Absolutely.” You shut and lock the door behind you.

Ben’s first thought was to lift you onto the sink but he stopped with his hands on your hips, and frowned. The bench wasn’t really wide enough to be comfortable and what space there was, was taken up by discarded makeup and hair products. But what was lacking about the sink was made up for by the size of the bath. You indicated it instead and Ben shrugged and held out his hand to help you in.

“Uh uh, you gotta get your kit off first. How am I meant to ride you though fucking overalls?”

“Alright, alright,” he laughed, unhooking the first strap and throwing it over his shoulder with a pout worthy of a model. You took your blazer off and then your knickers but left the skirt on as Ben discarded the overalls.

“So you wanted to see,” he pushed the sleeve of his shirt up so you could see the ink marking his shoulder, “You like it?”

“I do. Simple but really cool.”

“You don’t have any?” this time he stepped into the tub first before offering his hand and getting comfortable himself, legs stretched out in front of him, leaning against one end, “oh, cold on my arse,”

“That’s what you get for wearing a one piece. And, no, I don’t.”

“Technically two pieces with the shirt. God I hope this bath is clean,”

You distracted him by kissing him again as you settled on his lap, your knees wedged between his legs and the sides of the bath. But Ben was at least somewhat of a gentleman because you feel his hand on your arse and then on your thigh and then between your legs. You sighed into the kiss as he found your wetness, spreading it over your pussy lips and up to your clit.

“I – mmmh – I wouldn’t mind getting a tattoo actually,”

“Tattoos are hot, especially on attractive women,”

You hum, half because you agreed and half because you felt him press two fingers into you. It wasn’t not long before you wanted more, wanted what you’d been promised, so you dropped your hand between you to stroke his dick. He gasped softly at the contact.

“So how come you haven’t got any tats?” his voice was slightly strained as you worked your hand over his shaft.

“I don’t know, I guess- you’ve got condoms yeah?”

“Back pocket,” he pointed at his discarded costume and you released him to grab the overalls.

“I guess I just haven’t properly looked into it yet.” You ripped the condom open with your teeth and began sliding it onto him, “S’pose I don’t really know how to go about it,”

“Yeah, the first one’s a bit dau-nting,” his voice hitched as you lowered yourself onto his dick, “But it’s pretty simple really.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No, you feel amazing,”

“Meant tats, do they h-hurt as much as people say?

Ben chuckled, his hands finding a place on your hips and squeezing as you began to raise and lower yourself, “I mean it’s needling ink into your skin, it’s not painless. Guess it, uh fuck, guess it depends on pain tolerance and stuff. Any idea what design you’d want?”

“Not really. Maybe something like a sunflower,”

“Cute,”

“Thanks,” you braced your hands on Ben’s chest so you could take him a little faster, “My friends got one of a fox, looks like watercolour,”

“Yeah I’ve se-een them online. Really cool,”

“Maybe something like that, but a bird. You want any, ohh, anymore tats or just the one?”

“I’d l-ove more. Not sure of what yet.”

“My name?”

He laughed again though it turned into more of a moan as you clenched, “You could get mine too,”

“Make me cum and I’ll think about it.”

Ben took the hint and brought his fingers to your clit again, rubbing it firmly as you tried to keep the pace of your bouncing despite the way your knees were beginning to hurt.

“Just like that Ben, don’t stop,”

Ben nodded and kept up his ministrations until you stilled, mouth falling open and fingers tightening on his chest. He followed quickly, head falling back against the side of the tub.

“Fuck,” he laughed, pulling you into a kiss “You look ridiculously sexy right now.”

“You think this is sexy you should see what I sleep in,”

“If that’s an invitation then I accept.”

“Put your pants back on and we can call and Uber,”

“So,” Ben said as he was pulling his overalls back on, “where are you going to get it?”

“Get what?”

“My name when you get it tattooed on you? I was thinking it’d look good on your arse but up to you,”

“Think I’ll still to the sunflowers,”

#my writing #my blurbs #ben hardy smut #ben hardy x reader #ngl this was one of the ones i was struggling to come up with something for #my initial thought was like costumes for a movie #but i couldn't figure my way into the story #so i changed it lmao #misc-incorporated

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demonprosecutor · 3 years

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It’s a strange little pose that he adopts, one that has him nearly fidgeting if not for the steel focus & control that he was known for. Sitting crosslegged, the tips of his five fingers touching, & back straight. Although he can do without the irritating scrutiny of his teacher who hasn’t seen a lick of battle, fat with indulgence. “Alright, perfect. You did a lot better than I thought you would,” tobirama doesn’t have to look over his shoulders to know that nozomi was most-definitely pouting at him (she’d give her brother a run of his money).

“Because he has a shit-ton more focus than you, kitten.” the senju frowns in annoyance at the offhand comment, turning his head to squint waspishly at the yamabushi who smirked with crooked teeth & smoke billowing between the gaps. “Looking as pissy as ever, winter fox. Y’know, can’t channel nature’s gifts when you think too fuckin’ hard.”

Nozomi leaps at that, mouth arched in a cat-smile, thwacking his head with a scroll that she somehow manages to pull out from her sleeves; tobirama was convinced that it was its own pocket dimension. She ignores his snarl, waving the scroll like a wand in the air, “mhm! Shishou is right, you have to empty your mind, let the world speak to you. Turn off your brain.”

A snort, “a feat that you must find easy.” It’s difficult to restrain the smirk, watching nozomi tilt her head for a few seconds before she realizes the veiled insult. That’s when she whines & smacks him with the scroll again.

“You’re so fucking rude, my student is so CRUEL to me.” Yup, definitely like anija. Nonetheless, she sits across from him, clad in her uniform & that offensvely fancy haori, eyeing him with jewels for eyes. It’s not the first time tobirama finds himself entranced, staring into her eyes like he’d be able to find the secrets of the universe. “Are you sure? More power is never good.”

He almost wants to snap at her. What would she know, a girl who luxuriated in finery whilst he grew up as a weapon, a demon that only her eyes could see. But he sees the weariness in the lines of her face, remembers the blinding terror on her face as she swallows the final piece of that yokai’s heart before her eyes roll back. He remembers madara’s madness born from grief, the sharingan spinning faster & faster, blood like tears.

Tobirama huffs out, dismissing their thoughts with a slow exhale. He nods, “i’m sure.” he doesn’t bother extrapolating because there was truth in his thoughts. The world of the shinobi & the onmyoji were vastly different. His currency was power.

She studies him for a long time before sighing. “Ok, close your eyes.” Tobirama does so, senses stretched out to feel hers, warmthsunlightlove, manages to not flinch when her hands, soft from lacking war cups his face. He’s almost terrified, feeling her thumbs sweep over the grooves of his self-inflicted scars on his cheeks, that he tattooed over as a reminder to protect the things he loved. “Open your chakra pathways, your heart, empty your mind. And listen. Listen to the heartbeat of the earth, the water, the air. Feel life touch you in ways that it won’t touch others.” her voice smoothes over, hypnotic in its own right, stilling the turbulence of his mind.

Like a gate, his chakra pathways open, following the directions of her voice. He thinks he hears the thrum of the earth, feels the stones that crawl up up up. But he’s yanked from his meditative state by nozomi, reaction prompting him to whip out a kunai & press the tip against her jugular, the point sharp enough to coax a dot of blood. Atsunari straightens from his languid pose, cloudy gaze sharp & head turned to face tobirama with warning. Nozomi is perched on his lap, hands on his shoulders, face a picture of deceptive calm. Slowly, he lowers his kunai to the ground, clearly telegraphing his movements, so that her cat eyes could follow in return. Slowly, he could feel her body relax on his lap.

“Sorry.” tobirama whispers, chagrined by his own reaction. And strangely enough, he feels guilt well forth, at the churning turbulence in nozomi’s chakra. “... i got startled.”

She stares at him before breathing out a gusty sigh, dropping her head against the back of her hand, which was still clutching at his shoulder. “--- it’s alright.” & it was said with the strange tone of realization that oh, right, he’s dangerous. The thought of nozomi being scared of him, no matter how he wanted that at the beginning of their … knowing each other, made his insides twist. “You were turning into stone.” Nozomi pulls back, so that he could see his legs, encased in a light coating of rock, which he shook off with a small flex of his legs.

Tobirama’s frustrated, not that it was nozomi’s or atsunari’s fault (the onmyoji were experts at reaching sage mode, so why wouldn’t he ask for the best?), but at his own incompetence. “Shit. i--- i thought i had it that time.”

Nozomi waves a hand, both at his anger & to soothe atsunari who slowly & cautiously leaned back against his tree to begin smoking again. “It’s fine. Not everyone can get it, and it takes time.”

He wants to scream at her. He didn’t have fucking time, not with kaguya and zetsu and madara-- not to mention the other bullshit with the three great yokai. But he scowls, sighing, “we don’t have that. You know---”

“It’s not your choice.” She interrupts him, and viciousness rises like a wave. Her, with no blood to her name, and Tobirama with an ocean. How dare she. “We follow the timetable of nature, that’s it.” he hates it when she gets all philosophical like this, a byproduct of atsunari’s influence, the damned drunkard.

Tobirama stands up, face arranged in impassiveness, turning away as a clear sign of dismissal. “I’ll get food.” he ignores the look of hurt on Nozomi’s face as he flickers away.

#Tobirama Senju #Senju Tobirama #naruto oc #aku oc: nozomi #aku oc: atsunari #KJHSDGKHJ #My writing #aku writing #I just have thoughts.#LISTEN ‼️ BRJSHFHD THIS IS MY ORIGINAL CONCEPT SHIT.

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my-fan-side · 4 years

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Unconventional (Chapter 3)

A/N: I was suppose to post this yesterday but I wasn’t sure where to cut the scene. I hope this is okay. :) Also I have read one of my Nessian FanFic where they also attend a ball, I realized I have the same idea on what Nesta should wear on formal occassions like that. haha.. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy this and on next chapter there will be more Eris-Nesta-Cassian interaction. :)

Previous Chapter: Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Not a few minutes after Nesta went upstairs, Feyre and Elain saw Cassian land on the porch. But instead of coming inside from the front door, he raised his hand to wave at them and pointed out the pack he was holding, then walk beside the house towards their backyard, where his small smith room was located. He was dropping his materials to his workstation first before coming in. The two youngest Archeron just nodded back and smiled to him.

Then footsteps were heard from the stairs, both sisters turned their attention to it and they were both rendered speechless on what they saw. Nesta walks carefully down towards her sisters. The beautiful red dress fits her body perfectly, showing off her generous curves. The intricate sequins and elaborate embroidery over the meshed-up fabric compliments each other impeccably. Both sisters would agree without saying a word that she looks like a Queen in her own right.

Apparently, there’s another one that have the same thoughts as the younger Archerons’, because the next thing they know, a broken glass was on the floor, and a certain Illyrian was blinking dumbly as he stared at his mate, with his mouth hanging open. They all turned their attention to him, trying not to laugh at his reaction.

Nesta’s mind tells her to tease him, but her body was tingling with the way Cassian was staring at her. She can feel the awe, the desire and the love from his eyes and through their bond. She blushed and her eyes soften a little bit, but then she managed to control herself and put her hands on her hips instead. She raised her brow and smirked towards her mate. “I’m not cleaning that up.” She nods towards the broken glass that he had dropped as soon as he saw her.

Cassian though, without taking his eyes off of Nesta, waved his hand and with a breeze of wind the broken pieces flew towards the trash can. He stepped towards her one at a time, looking at her from head to toe, until he’s finally in front of her. They were so close, there’s barely any space between then. He was looking down on her and she was staring back up at him.

“Yeah, we’ll just… get on our way home.” Feyre said as she quietly dragged Elain out of the house. “Uhuh… see you tomorrow.” Elain agrees softly, then closed the front door. Meanwhile, Nesta & Cassian doesn’t seem to hear or care on where the other two occupants have gone and said. They just keep on looking into each other’s eyes, until Cass finally spoke. “Gods damn it, why did he have to be the one to give you this dress.” He was holding the edge of the sleeves that ends on Nesta’s wrist, tracing the embellished swirls in it.

Without breaking eye contact, Nesta traced her fingers from her mate’s wrist, then arms, then shoulder, until she settles it at the back of his neck. “Will it make you feel any better if I tell you that according to Elain, this is probably Lady Isabella’s idea, more than Eris?”

Cassian didn’t answer immediately, he keeps on staring at his mate’s blue grey eyes as he moved his hands from her sleeves, to her hips. He leaned in closer and slowly moved his caresses to her lower back just above her butt, then higher towards her spine. But not a moment too soon his hands froze, because on a place where he expects to touch more fabric, his hands met a warm and soft skin instead. Nesta didn’t miss the slight tilt of her mate’s head when this happen, so she smirks at him and completely leaned into him, resting her head by his shoulder. Cassian then nuzzles her neck, taking a peek at her exposed bare back.

“I don’t care who gave you this or who made this dress for that matter, Sweetheart. All I know is that this dress is made for you, and only you. It would be a shame if the world won’t see how stunningly beautiful you are wearing this.” What he said is true. Right now, looking at his mate, Bryaxis could’ve given this dress to her and he still wouldn’t mind if she wears it. If anything, he wished it was him who gave her this outfit.

Nesta couldn’t help the reddening of her cheeks so he burrowed her head further towards Cassian’s neck to hide it. Cassian found it amusing and snorts, but kissed her forehead nonetheless. Nesta slap him slightly on the chest because how dare him laugh at her being flustered.

Pushing slightly away from Cassian, she looks straight to his eyes before asking: “Are you sure?” She wanted to be certain that he’s not just admiring how she looks on that dress now. She stands by what she said to her sisters and him, she won’t wear it if it would bother him. Not because she has to have his consent, no, of course not. But she’d rather not have her mate itchy and irritated the whole time they were supposed to be relaxing and having fun.

Cassian nods and give her a sincere smile to assure her. “I’ve just got one request though.”

Nesta raised her brows at this, curious at what he would ask from her.

But instead of answering her question, he grins bigger towards her, then without warning he pulled the tie that was holding her hair up. Her wavy golden-brown hair tumbled down all the way mid her spine. It covers the upper part of her bare back, but still exposed generous amount of it. He touched her hair softly and whispers so close to her ear “Let your hair down on the party, please?”. When he got the soft nod from his mate, she kissed her temple and kept admiring her on that dress for a little while more, before finally Nesta decided to step out of it.

-----

The weekend can not come any sooner, they were all preparing to leave the House of Wind and go to Autumn for the ball. Rhys and Cassian were by the window talking about some topics they weren’t able to discuss on their meeting earlier. Az already went ahead to check on the surroundings that they’ll be winnowing in. Mor and Lucien is by the couch talking about Winter, sharing stories on their experiences when the last time they were on that court. Amren is nowhere to be found, but with Varian already in the night court having agreed to come together with her little monster going to the ball, they’re not surprised that the couple were a bit late.

They’re all waiting for the Archeron sisters, who’ve decided to prepare together and come out when the three of them are all ready. Clicking of heels were heard from the hallway, and then there was a vision of red, green and black in front of them. Nesta, Elain and Feyre stepped out of the hallway, stunning their precious mates with their presence.

Feyre is wearing a black sequined dress with thin halter top and deep plunging neckline ending mid-waist. Its torso has a corset fit that accentuates her small waist. The mesh fabric was covered with swirls and diamonds that gives that sparkle when she moves. The thigh high slit gives that sensuality that always radiates from the High Lady of the Night. Her hair was up in a slightly messy updo and she only have her earrings and arm tattoo as her accessories. She radiates both elegance and magnificence on how she looks. The High Lord shook his head, and as he continues to roam his eyes on his mate, he thought he will never not find his mate beautiful.

Elain’s outfit was a light contrast to her sister’s dark hues. She was wearing a green dress whose shade was between fern and mint. The neckline was in line with her shoulder blades, and the bishop long sleeves were made of see-through chiffon. There are embroidered flowers by the shoulder and on both ends of the sleeves. There’s a dark ribbon as her belt knotted on her waist, and the rest of the dress flows down in an A-line cut. With her hair loosely braided on one side decorated with small floral trinkets, Elain emits a fairylike ambiance and sophistication only a true Lady can have. Lucien’s embellished jade green tunic with gold-work thread was a perfect match for his mates’. His smile was somewhere between awe, gratefulness and pride that she has this brown-eyed Lady as his mate.

Last but not the least, Nesta was wearing the grandest among the sisters. Her mermaid dress emphasizes her hour glass figure, from her generous front to her curvy hips. The neck line was not as deep as Feyre’s but still exposes that ample cleavage and sharp collarbone. The intricate design over a sheer layer of fabric runs from her shoulder and arms, to her chest, all the way to her hips. Her hair was down in a loose wave flowing through her exposed back. She emanates such class and opulence that only Queens usually gives out. And Cassian, frozen in the middle of the living room, could not comprehend how he had deserved such female as his mate. Yes, he has seen her wear this before, but seeing her now all made up and looking like a royalty, he shook his head and approached Nesta steadily. He then made a slight bow of his head and raised his arms for her to take. “My Queen, may I have the privilege to escort you through out the night?” He looked Nesta in the eye with a genuine smile of admiration towards her. Nesta tried not to blush on her mate’s antics, but with all her friends and family’s eyes on them, she can’t help it. She bit her lip and took her mate’s arm, pull him slightly close to her and give him a kiss on the side of his lips then whispers “Yes, you may.”

There was a moment of quiet as the Illyrians and the Fox keep on admiring their mates, Mor raised her eyebrows at this. She found the sisters absolutely gorgeous, but the way these Males are looking at them she knows her compliments wouldn’t probably be heard. She was about to break the silence, when suddenly Amren spoke behind her that made her jump a little. Actually, it startled all of them whether it was obvious or not. That sneaky little…

“So, are we going or are you just going to keep on staring at each other?” Amren raised a brow towards the couples and wander her eyes to all of them. She gave the ladies nods of approval, and the males an eyeroll.

“Alright, let’s go.” Rhysand held her hand out towards Cassian so they can winnow together. “See you in a few Feyre Darling” He gave his wife a quick kiss on the lips before disappearing. The rest of the circle paired up and left one after the other. Elain was with Lucien, Feyre winnowed out with Nesta, and Amren, Mor and Varian left as a group.

-----

Looking at the entrance of the palace, they all admire the elaborate decorations that surrounds the place. The fairy lights on trees, bushes and walls; the velvet banners by the balcony; and the beautifully arranged cluster of red and orange flowers that awaits every one that was to enter.

Walking down the hallway towards the great ballroom, they were greeted with the same luxurious interior. They’ve entered the room just in time as the speaker was making an introduction for the new High Lord of Autumn before he comes out. Also already on the stage was Lady Isabella, and some Officials of the Court.

“…And now, let us all welcome Eris Vanserra--the eldest son of the late High Lord of Autumn- Beron Vanserra, and his beloved wife, Lady Isabella.” Settling down on one side of the room, near the front, the members of the Night Court joined the crowd in clapping and looking towards the stage. They watch as the auburn-haired Lady approach his eldest son whom have kneeled at the center of the stage awaiting the crown his mother was carrying. As the crown was settled on his head, the crowd erupted into another round of applause and cheers. His mother touched his face tenderly and kissed his cheek, then she took a step back to give the stage to his son. Eris spread his arms wide and a burst of fire flew out of his hands. The ballroom was surrounded with fireworks, then there were floating candles by the ceiling and the torches by the wall was lit. Eris was glowing, and the crown in his head was burning brightly. Everyone can feel the power radiating from him, but instead of fear, it was the amazement that was more dominant.

Eris gave the obligatory speech; it was short but poignant. “….Again, thank you everyone who is here and have given their time to celebrate this occasion with me. Know that your presence is very much appreciated. Now, I would not let you wait any longer. Please, enjoy the rest of the night. And let the dining and dancing... begins.”

Tags: @sjm-things @moonbeammadness @maastrash @typicalmidnightsoul @awesomelena555 @wannawriteyouabook

#nessian #nesta archeron #eris and nesta friendship fic #cassian #eris vanserra #acotar #nessian fanfiction #myfansidefanfic

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