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messers-moony · 3 years

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Hope | R.L

Paring: Remus Lupin X Wife!Potter!Reader

Summary: Life is unfair in numerous ways but it seems like it’s out to get the Potters in every way shape and form.

A part of growing up means maturing. Maturing means realizing that the world is cruel and unfair. People die every day without a reason or a why. Children are born into this world every day with love or hatred. Growing up, parents tell their kids, “Life isn’t fair”. No one had experience unfairness like Y/n Potter and Remus Lupin.

He was right there. So close, only a few feet from her arms yet so far apart in that wretched woman’s arms who held him like he was the grossest thing she’s ever touched. Those enchanting green eyes that glistened with trauma and pain. The brown hair that started to sprout from his scalp, already messy and untidy.

“No! This isn’t fair!” Y/n wailed as Remus held her tight to his chest, “I’m his biological aunt! Please!”

The Minister of Magic was merciless, “And so is Mrs.Dursley.”

“She’s a muggle! Harry is bound to be a wizard!” Y/n cried in contradiction; the feeling to vomit became relentless, “They’ll torture him. Please, you have to let me have him.”

“With your current living situation, it isn’t safe, Mrs.Lupin.”

Remus grimaced at those words, “My current living situation? Are you daft!?”

“With Mr.Lupins…” The Minister pondered, “condition, it isn’t safe for him.”

“Remus wouldn’t hurt him.” Y/n sobbed quietly, “He’s never hurt me!”

“I’m sorry, Mrs.Lupin, but Harry Potter is the safest with Mrs. and Mr. Dursley.”

The gavel was hit upon another circle of wood, adjourning the meeting as a finality. This was it. The fight was over. Harry Potter would grow up in an unloving household that wouldn’t be capable of understanding his magic. This was the epitome of unfairness. Remus’ hands were on her waist, her back to his chest while she sobbed, trying to get him to release her.

Eventually, she collapsed to a heap on the floor. Petunia and Vernon, each holding a baby watching the couple. Harry was wailing loudly, and Petunia couldn’t get him to settle down, making Y/n only cry harder. The young boy had just begun babbling nonsense due to Sirius’ hard effort to get him to say “Padfoot”. But it was that day he said his first word.

“Moo-me!” Harry yelped, and Remus could’ve sworn his heart shattered into a thousand pieces, “Moo-me!”

The brunet boy was trying to reach for Remus, and he squirmed for the adult male, but Petunia had a tight grip. Y/n could barely hear the little boy's words over her own sobs. Her body ached and shook with every tear that fell. The silver streams stained her cheeks, and her face was a brilliant rose red.

“Please make it stop….” Y/n muttered as Remus covered her from the other four people in the room, “If he says that one more time, I might not be able to handle it. Remus, help me, please.”

Hearing her so desperate broke his heart more. Remus’ body covered hers entirely in their crouched position. Harry was practically attacking Petunia to let him go, to be in the arms that are familiar to him. He didn’t like this. He didn’t know these people. These people weren’t his parents. Where was daddy? Where was mummy? Where was uncle Sirius and Peter?

What he did know was his aunt and uncle were right in front of him. Uncle Moony and Aunt Y/n. He could feel his aunt's sadness, her frustration, her anger. He could sense his uncle's remorse, desperation, and hopelessness. Why were they feeling this way? Why weren’t they protecting him? Harry so desperately wished he could speak and say, “Help! Save me from these strangers!” But all he could get out was “Moo-mee and Tee” for Moony and Auntie.

Petunia couldn’t handle his squirming any longer and allowed him on the floor. Harry was ecstatic with this new change. The boy crawled to the two adults on the floor. Harry could feel the warmth of their bodies before he tugged at his aunt's sleeve. Harry stared into her e/c irises and his uncle's green eyes. Those eyes he’d remember forever, engraved in his memory to never forget. His aunt collected him into her arms. His head pressed to her chest. Harry’s sobs calmed, now in the arms of familiarity.

The scent of chocolate, ink, and books surrounded him. His nose was barely catching the smell due to it being runny from crying. Petunia and Vernon approached them. Remus was hugging his wife and his best friend's son, protecting them from the outside world. Gently Y/n pulled Harry from her chest, leaving him to stare at his aunt and uncle.

Y/n sniffled and wiped his tears from his cheeks like mum used to do, “Harry, I promise you, I really don’t want to do this.”

His head tilted in confusion as Y/n’s eyes filled with tears again, “I’ll come back for you. Don’t doubt that for a second.”

“If he’s anything like Prongs, he’ll always have hope.” Remus commented, making Y/n smile.

“That’s what daddy used to do to mummy when she was sad,” Harry thought, “he used to say something to make her smile.”

Despite the soft smile on her face, she had wet trails on her cheeks, “I love you, Harry.”

Y/n kissed his forehead where the lightning scar was placed—hugging him one more time and Remus doing the same as his wife. Harry didn’t understand. Where was he going? Why was auntie Y/n letting him go? Why weren’t they taking him home? Where was mummy and daddy?! So he began to wail again. Petunia picked him up, and the family of four now started to walk out of the room.

She couldn’t even cry anymore. The water that once flowed down her cheeks had stopped. The dam had broken but no longer had water to give. Y/n turned to put her face harshly in Remus’ chest. His arms raked through her hair and rubbed her back. Silent tears rolled down his flushed cheeks, reaching his jawline and falling into Y/n’s hair.

“That was-“ Y/n hiccuped, “the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

“I know, darling.” Remus whispered, “He’s got James’ spirit, and that means he won’t lose hope. He’s got Lily’s kindness. Harry will be fine.”

Y/n shook her head, “That’s not the point. He should be with me. Not that horrid woman.”

“I know. But you and I will get through this.” Remus assured, tilting her head to face him, “We’ve gotten through everything else. We can get through this too.”

Solemnly, Y/n nodded. Remus placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. The room was precise and silent, aside from Y/n’s hiccups. The clicking of a clock could be heard echoing throughout the room. Usually, the sound would bring a sense of solace to Remus but right now, it was a constant reminder that time had gone by. James and Lily were no longer with him. Sirius had betrayed them all, and Peter was dead. Godric, how could this all happen?

Remus flicked his wand from his pocket, apparating them back to their residence. Inside it was cozy and warm. Remus took off Y/n’s coat along with his own as she took a seat on the leather couch. She grabbed her wand, muttering an “Incendio” to start a fire in the fireplace. Her body was curled up, and Remus placed a blanket over her while he went to the kitchen.

The kitchen was a pale blue with dark oak flooring. The marble countertops and dark cabinets. A brilliant contrast. He could almost hear James’ laugh from when they were painting it together while also hearing Lily and Y/n’s scolding them for making a big mess. It brought an emptiness to his heart, but he filled the kettle with water, allowing it to boil on the water.

Inside the cabinets laid an assortment of tea. Something James and Lily had bought him as a joke. Remus always made tea no matter the occasion. It was so him. James had seen it at a muggle store Lily had brought him for. He had been dying of laughter in the store just thinking about it. It got laughs around the Christmas tree when Remus unwrapped the decorative paper.

Remus grabbed a tea bag for himself while grabbing cocoa powder from the same cabinet and two mugs from their wedding night. The kettle began making a high pitch noise, and Remus poured the water into both mugs. Placing the tea bag in one cup and a couple of scoops of cocoa powder in the other, mixing them both, adding marshmallows to the hot chocolate and whipped cream. He added honey to his tea.

Mugs in hand, Remus walked to the living room. He placed the cups on the coffee table. Coaxing Y/n to sit up and he set the mug in her hand as she sipped it carefully, not to burn her mouth. Y/n leaned her head on Remus’ shoulder, still holding her mug with both hands. The blanket draped across their laps. Remus had the cup in his right hand, his left arm draped around her shoulders, the pad of his thumb rubbing her shoulder.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Rem.”

The holidays were hard. Almost too hard for Y/n and Remus to celebrate. But despite their pain, they decorated their house with garland, lights, and knickknacks. The Christmas tree sat in the right of their living room, covered in the beautiful colorful lights. Placed upon the tree were ornaments and tiny pieces of tinsel. Beneath the tree held presents for each other and a little boy.

Y/n stood in front of the tree, staring at it with a longing look. Remus walked behind her, putting his arms around her neck gently. Y/n’s hands instinctively reached for his bicep, rubbing it gently. Remus kissed her cheek and placed his head on top of hers.

“I wanna visit him.”

“Okay.”

Y/n turned to face him, “Okay?”

“What am I gonna tell you?” Remus joked, “No?”

“No. I just- I didn’t expect you to agree so fast.” Y/n replied, and Remus cupped her cheek, “He’s your nephew too. You have a right to see him.”

She smiled, “Yeah, you’re right.”

He kissed her forehead, “First Christmas without them….”

“I know.” Y/n said sadly, “It feels strange not to have James jumping around like a child.”

“It feels not having Lily in the kitchen trying to make your mums mince pies.”

Y/n chuckled, “She never got to master them.”

“Don’t worry, dear, I’m sure she’s up there trying.” Remus replied, smiling, “You think Peter is trying to steal the batter?” Y/n asked.

“Oh, definitely!” Remus exclaimed, smiling more than he had in months, “That bugger always used to Nick my chocolate at Hogwarts.”

“I dunno how he found my stash every time.”

The couple placed their foreheads on each other’s, closing their eyes, “We miss you, James and Lily.”

“We miss you more than ever.”

Y/n sighed, “I love you guys.”

Christmas morning was dull compared to their regular routine. Y/n was used to having James jump on top of her every Christmas so they can wake up their parents and open presents. Instead, she was woken up with kisses being placed on her neck and shoulder. Y/n turned and was faced with the sleepy face of her husband.

His sandy hair ruffled and on top of the white pillow. Green eyes glazed with a film of sleep. His lips pulled up in an effortless gentle smile. The scars on his face were whiter instead of their usual pale pink. His stubble was growing into full facial hair due to his lack of shaving. Y/n let her hand cup his right cheek, her thumb rubbing his cheekbone.

“You need to shave.”

Remus chuckled, “It’s Christmas, and that’s the first thing you say to me?”

“Merry Christmas, you need to shave?” Y/n corrected with a smile, making him laugh, “Merry Christmas, darling.”

They shared a soft and gentle kiss. His lips taking her bottom one, hers taking his top one. Soft and slow. Gentle and sweet. Pulling apart, their eyes fluttered, focusing on one another. Her eyes were so beautiful. Looking into her eyes, Remus could read an endless amount of stories. The gorgeous e/c. His eyes were evergreen. Holding so much love and adoration. She could read him like a book through his eyes.

Christmas meant eating a good meal and sharing kisses beneath the mistletoe. The couple opened each other’s presents. Y/n earning new books and some of Remus’ old sweaters that she thought he threw away. The last item she received was a maroon and gold jersey. It was her brother's Quidditch Captain jersey from when he played. Remus must’ve found it in the wreckage at Godric’s Hallow.

Remus opened his presents, getting ink, quills, notebooks, and books of his own. Since Remus couldn’t work, he always dreamed of writing a book. At Hogwarts, Remus excelled in Defense Against the Dark Arts, and he wanted to write a nonbias textbook for it. Y/n always encouraged his dreams and goals. If anyone could do it, it was him.

Left under the tree were three wrapped boxes meant for the little boy. Remus grabbed a tote bag and placed them inside of it. Y/n gripped his hand tightly as they apparated to Privet Drive. They began walking down the street, sweaters on in the snow, while she grabbed his hand tighter.

“What if- What if he doesn’t recognize me?”

“Y/n, he couldn’t forget you.” Remus assured as they stood outside house four.

Gently Y/n knocked on the door. It was oak wood, and the house appeared to be at least two stories. Remus kept his hand intertwined with hers as his other held the bag with the boy's presents. Footsteps could be heard walking towards the door. Petunia had opened it to be faced with two young adults.

“Mrs. Dursley.” Remus greeted curtly, “May we see Harry?”

Petunia began to ponder and saw the bag of presents in the man's hand, “Sure.”

The woman walked into the hallway and unlocked the cupboard under the stairs. Harry was coaxed out of the storage space, and he turned to the left, where he saw his uncle and aunt. The boy's lips curved into a great big smile. Harry ran into the arms of his aunt, hugging her tightly.

“Auntie!”

Her heart melted, “Hey, mini Prongs.”

Harry turned the male beside her, “Moony!”

Remus wrapped his arms around the little boy and picked him up as they walked inside. The three of them sat in the foyer on the floor. Harry sat between Y/n’s legs, his back to her stomach as Remus sat in front of him. Gently Remus disposed of the bag and placed the presents in front of him.

“Go on, Harry. These are for you from Moony and Auntie.” Remus cooed, and Harry grabbed one, gently ripping the wrapping off.

Inside was a baby stag stuffed animal, which Harry hugged close to his chest, “Your dad's favorite animal was a stag. Thought you might want something to remember him by.” Remus stated, smiling sheepishly.

“Daddy?”

“Yeah, daddy.” Y/n replied as Harry smiled up at her.

“Go on. There’s two more for you, baby.” Y/n pointed at the other two boxes, and Harry began unwrapping another.

This was a tinier box, and inside were golden glasses, “You don’t need these just yet, but these were your fathers. I wanted them to be yours.” Y/n informed him as he placed them on top of his nose.

The final box was mini-figures that Harry could play with in his spare time, which he seemed more than grateful for. Harry was giggling and laughing, happy with all his presents. The boy turned in Y/n’s lap, hugging her as tight as he could. Y/n’s hand rested on his back, and she gently kissed his forehead.

“I love you, Harry. Don’t forget that.”

“‘Ove you too.” Harry replied, having a hard time pronouncing words.

Next, he hugged Remus, who did the same. He didn’t want to leave Remus’ arms. He always ran hotter than the everyday person. Remus was a personal furnace. It makes sense why a cold young boy didn’t want to let go of the man. Within minutes the young boy was asleep in Remus’ arms.

Petunia came into the hallway an hour later to see Harry soundly asleep in the man's arms, “Excuse me, but I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

“Yes, of course.” Y/n took Harry from Remus’ arms and gave him to Petunia, “Thank you for letting us see him.”

Petunia took the boy from Y/n’s arms, “Yes.”

She put the boy in his bed under the cupboard, making Y/n frown at his living situation, “Do you- Do you think that Harry could stay with us some weekends?”

“No.”

“Oh, okay.” Y/n muttered, “Thank you again, but we must’ve overstayed our welcome.”

“Of course.”

Y/n took Remus’ hand as they walked out of the house. They walked to a safe spot to apparate back home. They both took off their coats and placed them on the coat rack. Y/n went to turn on a movie on their television set while Remus made hot chocolate and snacks. Both of them curled up onto the sofa and fell asleep.

Over the course of the next nine years, Harry has been visited by his aunt and uncle on many different occasions. Birthdays, Christmas’s, Valentine’s Day, Halloween, and sometimes just randomly, but he always looked forward to seeing them. Every time without fail, Harry would always jump in Y/n’s arms no matter how old he got.

The warmth and feeling of being safe in her arms brought a sense of comfort no one seemed compared to. She felt like daddy. His radiate smile, his incredibly warm body, the smoothness of her voice, the glitter in her eyes, her untied hair. Auntie Y/n felt like James. But no matter how hard he tried, she never was dad exactly, but she was auntie. Y/n was his dad's sister, and for now, that’d have to do.

Of course, uncle Moony felt the same. But there were some days he didn’t show up, much to Harry’s displeasure. Harry loved sleeping in Remus’ arms when he was a young toddler. The chocolate, ink, and parchment smell always filled his sensitive nose with such a safe feeling. Harry’s favorite time of year was Christmas when Petunia would make hot cocoa, filling the room with its sweet sense. Although he never got a cup of it himself, the smell brought a sense of comfort. As if uncle Moony was embracing him tightly on all sides.

When Harry reached eleven, owls began delivering envelopes to Privet Drive number Four. But it seems that uncle Vernon refused to let him open any of them. He did whatever he had to, blocking the mail slot in the door, burning the letters, even going as extreme to leave the house. Where inevitably Hagrid - gamekeeper - at Hogwarts came to retrieve him and give him the letter.

He couldn’t believe it. He was a wizard! All this time being belittled by Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley, he finally felt special aside from those times with his other family. Harry had a chance to prove himself to be great. To prove himself that he wasn’t just a bug on the ground to be stepped on. Only one thought crossed his mind though.

“I can’t wait to tell aunt Y/n and uncle Moony.”

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zaffrenotes · 3 years

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To Ruined Friendships

Fandom: Westworld Pairing: Logan Delos x Reader Rating/Warnings: PG-13; spicy language, alcohol consumption, heavy smoochin Author's Note: This entire thing was inspired by a dream I had about one black hat cowboy who cannot for the life of him consume a drink without looking like he's going to inhale it. I tried to work on my other WIPs for an entirely different fandom, but my brain refused to focus on anyone other than Logan Delos. I don't have the energy to create a sideblog for this, so any Logan fans who happen to find this from the tags, please don't judge me for the other fandom(s) I'm in. I already know, lol. Word Count/Reading Time: +/- 2600 words (10 minutes reading)

hell if I know who to tag for this...if I ever write more and you want to get an update, leave a comment, I guess?: @the-blind-assassin-12 @ao719 @the-soot-sprite possibly @ofpixelsandscribbles @burnsoslow

Another night rubbing shoulders with the elite in a penthouse, and all you want to do is retreat into one of the half dozen empty rooms to rest your feet. Beauty always has a price, and tonight your feet were being sacrificed to the stiletto gods in the name of fashion. As a waiter weaves between guests, you deftly trade the empty crystal flute in your hand for a fresh one off their tray, the slim glass chilling your fingertips.

A tiny, imperceptible sigh slips past your lips as you look out at the wall of windows, city skyline twinkling in the distance. Glancing through the crowd, you try to find a familiar face of one of your girlfriends, when you feel someone’s fingers on your back, ghosting over the ink at the base of your spine. Over your shoulder, a warm, though somewhat world-weary voice makes your body tingle. “Hey gorgeous, I was wondering if I’d see you here tonight.”

You know he’s grinning before you even turn your head; a sly smile spreads across your painted lips when you see you were right, and you lean in to press your cheek to Logan’s in greeting. His beard tickles your face, and the movement is small, but you feel him pull you closer to him, pressing his fingertips into your smooth skin. “You know me,” you reply, gently squeezing his bicep for balance, noses nearly touching as you both move to kiss the other cheek. “Any excuse to squander part of my father’s fortune on a party dress.”

His cheek twitches up as he grins wider, and once more, the grit in his voice makes you want to find a dark corner and do unspeakable things with him. “Only you could make a napkin’s worth of fabric look like couture,” he teases, stepping back to admire your outfit. “I own pocket squares larger than what you’ve got on!” His gaze lowers appreciatively, taking you in, before settling at your feet. You shift your weight from one hip to the other; tilting your head back to take a sip of champagne, you’re surprised to see his dark eyes on you as you swallow and lower the glass. There’s a hint of something there, the way the corners of his eyes crinkle. “Been here long? Why don’t we find somewhere quiet to catch up? You can let your hair down, along with… anything else, to get comfortable.” Were it not for the playful expression in his eyes, his proposition would warrant throwing the remainder of your drink directly into his exquisite face.

But you know Logan. You’ve known him too long for the invitation to be anything but amicable, much to your dismay. You’re well aware of the caliber of women he’s taken to the bedroom, and while you consider yourself attractive enough for the circles you keep, there’s no way he would ever see you as more than just a family friend. Knowing that doesn’t keep you from stroking his ego and taunting him at every opportunity, though. “My hair’s already down,” you tease, grinning as you roll your eyes at him.

“You know what I mean,” he replies, brushing your tresses over one shoulder. His thumb lingers on the strip of silk there, slipping between the material to rest on your skin, before pulling away. “We’ve known each other for years now, you’d think there would’ve been one night of indecency.” Before you’re able to respond, he glances up, noticing one of the other guests. “To be continued,” he says, raising his brows to you. He’s already begun to walk away.

“As always,” you reply, raising your glass to him.

You catch his eye more than a few times as you both make the rounds, catching up with friends and being introduced to new acquaintances vying for a way into social circles and business ventures. He winks at you before throwing back a drink, appearing as if he’d take a bite out of the glass to get every last drop of liquid from it. You nod as you pass by him while he converses with another guest, your arm linked with a friend’s as you walk off to powder your noses. You even catch him looking at you from across the room like he wants to ask you something, but the moment disappears when he pulls his phone from his pocket to take a call.

The evening goes on much longer than you anticipated. Even with windows of interesting conversation to pass the time, you begin to grow weary of the company, drowning out a discussion around you while you stake a claim on one of the pristine white couches. Your legs are crossed in front of you, one foot dangling in the air, while the one closer to the floor looks like it’s about to snap away from the rest of your leg. You’re balancing the weight on a sliver of one side of the heels, and you gaze out at the outdoor pool, wishing you could sit by the edge and dip your feet in the cool, chlorinated water.

Scanning through the guests once more, you notice Logan at the bar. He’s in the middle of a conversation with two gentlemen, but he catches your eye, glancing over long enough to notice your legs again. He flicks his eyes upwards to the rooms, tilting his head at an angle in silent question. You scoff and shake your head, blinking slowly to dismiss his invitation, and give up your position on the couch to go to look for the bathroom. He simply smiles as you cross the room, before returning to the conversation at the bar.

You’re outside on one of the balconies, forearms resting on the brushed steel railing as you lean against metal and glass, absentmindedly staring out at the city. The cool night air feels refreshing against your skin, now warm and flushed from too much champagne and not enough food; there’s never enough food at these things, and you would sell your soul for a plate of loaded nachos or even a tiny slider. Behind you, there’s a click and a hiss from the plate glass door opening. Jovial music and conversation from inside filters through the temporary break, and you sigh to yourself in preparation of putting on your party face to make idle conversation.

“That is one hell of a view.” An all too familiar voice fills the air after the door hisses shut. Logan.

You respond without turning around to acknowledge him. “Your family sure knows how to pick a party venue, I’ll give you that.”

“We do, but that’s not the view I was talking about.”

Body warming at his suggestive tone, you turn around to see Logan’s eyes fixed on your backside, unashamed of his blatant ogling. There’s a glass tumbler in his hand, with barely a sip’s worth of what looks like whiskey in it. “There you go again, getting a girl’s hopes up,” you tease, fidgeting with your hair.

“You know you’re fucking gorgeous, especially in that dress tonight.” His voice travels as he walks over to a darker part of the balcony, swirling the remnants of his drink.

Emboldened by the alcohol still coursing through your system, you play along, walking slowly towards him. “Let me guess, next you’re going to tell me it would look even better in a pile next to your bed.” You roll your eyes at him, but your heart begins to race at the idea.

He grins warmly at you, a tendril of hair knocking loose when he tilts his head and shrugs. You want to reach forward and smooth it back in place, and run your fingers against the side of his scalp. His hair’s longer than it was before; he’s been away at the park for a longer visit this time around. His unnervingly dark eyes are practically black in the shadows, eyeing you like prey. Extending a hand towards you, he reaches for the strap on your shoulder again as if to adjust it, but instead he lifts it and lets it fall off the slope of your skin, staring at the unblemished swath of flesh before him. You feel the material fall until it rests in the crook of your elbow, thankful to be holding up a glass to keep the silk from falling away any further off your body. “A dress like this? I’d have the decency to hang it up first.” He tugs at the fabric again, pulling it up over your shoulder to return your modesty.

“Keep saying shit like that, and one of these days I might believe you.”

“Should I keep talking then?” He chuckles.

You exhale, shaking your head with disbelief. He takes another step away from where you can be seen, and you follow him. “I’m not drunk enough to take you seriously,” you scoff, looking just beyond his gaze.

Logan reaches forward again, fingers landing on the base of your glass, and he pushes it up towards your mouth. “Then by all means, take another sip,” he grins.

“Bullshit,” you utter through a nervous smile, though you don’t stop yourself from tipping the edge of the flute to your lips and tilting your head up, downing half the contents in one gulp.

“Fuck it,” he whispers.

You swallow, and effervescent bubbles tickle the length of your throat so much that it takes you a second to register feeling Logan’s lips at the juncture of your jawline and earlobe. The way his beard brushes against you as you pull the glass away from your lips makes you lose your grip, and the flute falls to the ground, shattering near your feet. You gasp with surprise, unsure if it’s from the shock of dropping the glass or from the fact that Logan fucking Delos just kissed you.

In one swift movement, Logan wraps his unencumbered hand around your waist to pivot you away from the broken glass. His drink-laden hand blindly stretches out to set the glass on the thin metal railing, and he kisses you properly this time, impossibly soft lips on your open mouth and both of his hands are on your waist. He tastes sweet, smokey and woody from the whiskey, setting your lips on fire as he kisses you. Your hands fly up to his shoulders, gripping at his suit jacket as he leads you both towards an exterior wall. The shock of the cool wall against your exposed back makes you gasp again, and you push Logan away. “What’re you doing?” Your head is swimming, blood pulsing from the alcohol and the rush of emotions as you search Logan’s eyes for an answer.

“Might be ending our friendship,” he laughs wryly. His eyes land on your lips, before looking up to meet your gaze. “Want me to stop?”

The look in his eyes is intense; two black pools stare into you, daring you to continue. You tug the lapels of his jacket, pulling him close as your pelvis tilts forward to meet his. “Finish what you start,” you whisper, Cheshire-grin giving away your desire. He kisses you again, grabbing hold of the back of your thighs as he lifts you. You spread your legs, wrapping them around his waist as he presses you up against the wall, the pair of you kissing each other like it’s your last night on earth. There’s an urgency in your actions; if there’s a moment of hesitation from either of you, the spell will break, so you ignore the burning in your lungs to kiss him again. When you feel how hard he is pressed up against you, you tilt your head back and let your eyes flutter closed. He takes it as an opportunity to swirl his tongue against your neck, and you think about feeling his tongue elsewhere on your body.

Your back presses against the wall even more, causing you to wrap your legs around his waist tighter, pinning you in place. As you utter curses of pleasure into the night air, your feet feel relief for the first time all night, weightless as you destroy any propriety that existed with Logan Delos.

You can feel the sun against your eyelids, and the soft sounds of someone typing away at a keyboard. Between the dull ache at the base of your skull and your throbbing temples, you smack your lips together a few times, grimacing at the dryness in your mouth. You turn your face into what you think is a pillow, but determine to be a fleece blanket due to its soft yet formless design. There’s a faint aroma of coffee in the air, and you hope your roommate left some in the carafe. “Dear god, don’t let me drink that much ever again,” you groan, voice strained and scratchy from dehydration. “I made a complete ass of myself in front of Logan.” A minute passes without your roommate’s usual prodding; all you hear is typing now and then. “How’d we get home?”

You’re met with more silence, but your level of irritation is nothing compared to the hangover headache growing with each passing minute of consciousness. You’re about to ask for Tylenol, when you hear the click and hiss of a glass door opening, followed by the sound of someone splashing in a pool. The apartment you share with your roommate has no access to a pool, let alone a back door made of glass. Opening your eyes feels like peeling apart pieces of tape, but with effort you blink slowly and allow your eyes to focus, trying to ignore the glare from the midday sun. You realize the fleece blanket you were resting on was your arm, nestled in the sleeve of a plush bathrobe. It was the kind of robe often seen hanging in the bathroom of high-end hotels.

“That was a side of you I haven’t seen before. Good morning, sunshine.” The voice is distinctively, impossibly Logan’s, with a new note of lightness to it that wasn’t present during last night’s party. “Care to see something interesting?”

You push yourself off the sofa slowly, adjusting the robe on you - apparently you fell asleep wearing it, and you have no idea where your dress or shoes are - and sit up. Logan’s dressed casually in black, seated at a desk a few feet away, with multiple monitors in front of him. One looks to be running code or tracking stock market activity, but he disconnects the laptop in the middle of the desk and carries it over to the couch, taking a seat next to you. There’s a video clip paused on the screen, and he waits to make sure you’re alert enough to watch, before letting it play.

The video shows a clip from the hotel’s CCTV cameras, pointed at the infinity pool. The only lights are coming from the pool walls, and the timestamp reflects it was the middle of the night, long after the party would’ve ended. There’s a naked male figure treading water matching Logan’s build, and then an undressed woman appears from the bottom edge of the frame, preparing to jump into the pool with him. You gasp, covering your mouth with one hand, making out a tattoo on her lower back - your tattoo - before cannonballing into the pool and making out with Logan just before dipping under the water’s surface.

Logan pauses the video, beaming an annoyingly adorable smug expression across his face as he resists the urge to tease you right away. Instead, he leans over, pecks your cheek, and eyes the glimpse of cleavage availed to him between the folds of your robe. “Lady’s choice - I could fuck your hangover away, or there’s coffee in the kitchen. What’ll it be?”

#logan delos #logan delos x reader #westworld #zaffrenotes writes #apparently for more than one fandom now #is this a fluke?#cw: alcohol #cw: swearing #cw: mild citrus #more than a lime but less than lemons #I love the way Ben cannot drink or eat like a normal human #it's endearing and I love him for it #chomp chomp Bennie

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luimagines · 3 years

Note

Do time or the other links smoke? Or drink? Or do some kind of drugs? I mean when your out heroing you're going to get alot of traum

Something they all at least somewhat have to try and take the edg off or do they have other ways of coping? I am sorry if this sounds like an ask,i was more along the lines trying to get your speculation on the matter

Masterlist

I see what you're saying and I do think that some of them would have had bad habits in the past but yeah-

They do need some time to take the edge off and refocus themselves in the present, but how do they do that in a healthy and safe way?

Let's talk about that.

I don't think I have all the necessary tags so go forth at your own discretion.

Time

Time would have definitely had a drinking problem that would have started in his Termina days.

He's never really felt the need to drink though- he only found that it would have kept him from going crazy.

But as he got out of there and talked more to Malon (and have his supply cut off- (just because he knew where to get it in Termina doesn't mean he knows where to get it in Hyrule, (nor would they give it to him, even if he did))), I like to think that he would have had to find other ways to calm himself down and think rationally through his thoughts and desires.

It happens by accident.

He was working at Lon Lon Ranch when he needed to go chop some wood and he found the repetitive and strenuous work, soothing.

He felt good. Accomplished even.

And a little disappointed when he was finished.

But he started doing that whenever he could and it became his main way to not only blow off some steam but to also calm himself down.

It helps with his anxiety and his need to help feel useful even when nothing is really happening that would require his assistance.

Twilight

Twilight finds that manual labor actually makes his anxiety worse.

He can't really find it within himself to get lost in it because he's already programmed for that to be a part of his day to day life anyway. So his brain can still go on and on even as he gets his chores done.

Twilight finds that a secluded spot with little distraction works best.

He's never really dabbled in other ways to deal with it nor has it come to his mind.

All he knew one say was that everything was too much and that he needed to be in a different area entirely.

No people, no noise.

He likes to hang out by small creeks or by the lake and fish if he really needs an excuse to do something.

Bonus points if he can rest with one of his favorite goats nearby, but that's few and far in between.

It's less meditation and more taking in the moment and letting time slip by for a change.

No to do lists, no action, no survival, no need to be on the run.

Just breath.

Warrior

Warrior would have smoked during the war but I don’t think he’d actually tolerate it all that well. I feel like he’d be more inclined to drink away his problems but with shortages left and right, and all efforts going into the war, there just wouldn’t be enough to go around.

So he’d smoke and hate it.

But it worked in a pinch.

Afterwards, whether through Mask’s and Wind’s influence or the end of the war, he’d want to find a way to quit.

It wasn’t easy but I feel like Warrior would attempt to quit cold turkey. Just drop the habit completely and what does he do when he feels the need arise again?

It’s actually little said than done, but he paints.

It’s less with ink and paint and more so, just moving his hands and a brush around.

If he happens to have a canvas it’s better but again, not easy to come around.

So what Warrior ends up doing most of the time, is taking a brush and some homemade ink from berries and brushing it over his scars. His favorite spot is the massive burn covering his left arm left behind as a gift from the Dragon Knight.

It feels tingly and electric, static follows the brush and the muscles clench with energy from the contact but while it’s uncomfortable for a while, it’s also not entirely unpleasant and it’s soothing to watch and feel. And it grounds Warrior in the moment until he no longer feels the urge.

When the urge is gone, he still does it when he feel anxious and concerned. Late at night is typical time for him to do this, where no one would see him or his scars and judge him for it.

Sky

Sky in the beginning would have slept more than he did before.

He was already inclined to fall asleep easily before all of his trauma, but afterwards he seemed to lose motivation to continue with the idea that things would go back to normal. There was still a lot of expectation placed on his shoulders and it was frankly not something he wanted to deal with.

So he sleeps.

Now this turns into more of a problem with being able to stay awake and to stay concentrated. It’s hard for him to pay attention to anything beyond him and that won’t do, considering me still has to finish his schooling.

What Sky does more often than not to keep him tethered to the present moment is work with his hands. He’s already had the tools for wood whittling but he was never allowed to use them in class and it ends being a bigger mess sometimes than he’s willing to deal with in general.

Sky also has some small pockets of clay that he fidgets with to keep his hands moving and he can keep it under his desk so that it’s not that distracting in class.

It helps him focus and when he thinks about what he’s been through and what he plans to do next, it keeps him from getting overwhelmed.

Wild

I think Wild would have just gone silent and unmoving when he’s having a bad day.

Kind of similar to how he gets when’s trapped in a memory but for longer and he doesn’t eat or sleep. It could last days at a time. He doesn’t even move unless he’s prompted or dragged to the spot.

The lights are on but no one’s home you know.

There’s not a lot he can do when it happens. Everyone just has to wait for it to pass and hope that it passes quickly.

But Wild gets better with time to know the signs when of one of those days is coming.

It’s not much, but Wild like to hop on the back of his horse and just take off.

Feel the rushing wind on his face and through his hair. He’s a full gallop for a while until the poor horse gets tired. At that point he just goes to the nearest stable and exchanges horses to do the whole thing over again.

Sometimes, when that’s not enough, he’ll go base jumping from as high as he can get even using Revali’s Gale to get higher and free fall. Wild is pretty good at catching himself with his paraglider at the last moment and he likes to see all of Hyrule when as he reaches the ground again.

It reminds him that he’s done a lot of good, that he’s capable of doing more good and that life isn’t over just one ended.

Four

Unsurprisingly, sometimes Four gets too lost in his own for his own good.

He’s got a lot to think about and very little way to get it out.

Four would actually throw himself into his work to try and distract himself from the memories, the anxiety, and the guilt of not being enough time and time again even if he saved the day in the end.

This doesn’t help.

He gets so lost into it, in his attempt to stop thinking all together that he completely goes into autopilot and over works himself. Not in the sense that he pulls a muscle and has to take it easy or end up sore and tired and regrets it. No, no. What I mean is that he’ll keep working for days on end.

No sleep.

No food.

Little water.

No fresh air.

It ends up being a hard habit for him to break. Especially since he finds himself continuously trying to fall into a blank mindset even while he actually works to get commissions done.

So what Four has to do is find something else to do. Four more or less always has to have his hands moving, so it’s hard for him to put something down and not working on it.

He likes jigsaw puzzles, he likes to read, but he also likes to make stuff.

So in the end, when Four feel a little overwhelmed and feels himself slip into a self deprivational state, he’ll stop and goes inside his house to do a smaller project.

So he bakes, he knits, he does his puzzels. It’s enough for him to feel productive still but quick enough for him to stay present and make sure he’s still taking care of himself until the restlessness passes.

Wind

Wind doesn’t really have bad habits. He’s still young and processing his adventures.

I’m sure there’s alcohol on the pirate ship because pirates. But I don’t think he’d like it as much as some people want to write him.

Like, sure, a cup or two ain’t bad but I just can’t see Wind having a drinking problem. At least not now as everything stands.

In a few years it’s might be something he would need to be on the look out for if he’s aware enough but he was quite grasped the full implications of his position and trauma yet.

Because he’s just a kid.

He won’t know how twisted what happened to him was until he gets older and can he the age outside of his own mindset.

Wind has nightmares though and they’re ties when he gets memories that he doesn’t want to deal with at the moment- or ever again.

In the moment he thinks of his home, his grandma and his sister instead.

He thinks of his friends, both old and new.

The chain help with distracting him and he’s not above using them for the distraction when he feels that he needs one.

Wind also stretches a lot.

When he was with Warrior, he got into some of the drills they were teaching the soldiers and for some of the nimble ones, they had to start with stretches and he likes it.

So when it gets particularly bad, he throws himself through the motions and holds the poses for a bit longer than necessary.

So yoga. He does yoga.

And it centers him, it clears his head and he feels better after.

Legend

Legend screams.

Legend cries.

Legend will go on a rampage and destroy a whole forest if he’s having a particularly hard day.

Sometimes he’ll go find something big and scary just to fight it.

Blacksmithing is more a hobby for him at this point because it’s not something he can actually see himself doing in the future. It’s just to pass the time and help the day’s go by a little faster.

Legend likes to draw and when he’s tired after throwing whatever tantrum has taken over him, he’d go to a quiet spot and draw whatever he sees.

Sometimes, when he’s paying more attention to himself and he can feel himself getting frustrated and anxious, he takes a few days off.

He leaves his house and his items and goes up a mountain to think with some food, a notebook and some pencils.

He takes up map making.

Legend doesn’t think he’s any good at it, but with al the places he’s been, he tries to make a map for them by memory incase anyone he knows or will meet decides to visit.

His most carefully crafted map is of Koholint for... reasons.

It’s takes him an age and a half and he’s still not done with it, trying to get as much of it onto the paper as he can remember before he grows old and loses them entirely within his memory.

It’s a calming project he finds. He doesn’t feel sad when he does this for Marin for the people and their memory. It keeps them alive in his heart and sometimes he draws something on the map that doesn’t quite fit into his memory about the island but something tells him to keep it because it was there. Because he was only a visitor to their home.

The locals would know.

He feels good keeping them alive in some way.

It’s what she they would have wanted.

It’s what she they deserve.

She They always wanted to travel and it’s better to have a map to do so.

He takes up map making.

Hyrule

I don’t think Hyrule’s... Hyrule has a lot of these methods to go around. He wouldn’t have been exposed to drugs or alcohol simply because there’s too little people for him to interact with.

And if he was, I don’t think he’s use them as a coping mechanism simply because they would be too difficult obtain and gather to be sufficient.

I think that Hyrule would actually hang out with a Great Fairies by her pool when times got particularly rough.

There’s something about the place that resonates with him and feels calming, safe and relaxing to him.

As a bonus he’s always welcomed so he can pop in and stay for days at a time if he ever needed to.

He does not stay there for days.

But he appreciates the offer.

Hyrule doesn’t stay for more than few hours at a time because he doesn’t want to attract any monsters to his safe spots but even if the fairies don’t use any magic on him, he’s always rejuvenated afterwards and he feel like he can take on anything.

And given the world he comes from- it’s needed.

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #I know this wasn't really a request either #and I did say they were clsoed #but this was already going to get long #and it's more headcanons again #so into the queue it goes #bad habits #tw alchoholism #tw anxiety #tw smoking #tw addiction #pinky replies #pinky answers

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mokutone · 2 years

Note

Don't worry about it. That's fine, but I really love how you draw Sakura, like her skin tone makes me happy ngl. Idk why, but I just really love it.

Quick question, what made you change her skin tone? Is it a headcanon or did you think it looked cool? Same with Naruto too. (Anyway, I hope you have a great day or night!)

Ah, interesting question—I have a lot to say on this actually, so I'll put it under a cut!

I mean, to be honest I've probably darkened the skin tones of most of the characters in Naruto in my paintings of them.

Part of this is intentional! In shippuden, a lot of the characters are depicted with skin which is almost an eggshell off-white color, (which u can see in sakura and sasuke here)

and even tho i'm white + pretty pale myself, i just...don't really see skin of that hue or tone in my daily life, except in specific indoor lighting conditions which aren't usually present in naruto.

Like, Sakura's skin tone here is very nearly the same as the whites of her eyes! Because of this, I kind of assume that this is an aesthetic exaggeration of the anime, and so take it with a grain of salt in the same way I do their anime hair-spikes. I don't look at this and assume that Naruto has like, little pyramids of hair all over his head, I just assume it's the exaggerated implication that his hair stands up easily and is a little messy.

So, yeah, since Naruto in general, and especially my comics and illustrations, takes place out in the sunlight and not in environments lit like that (aside from like, orochimaru's lab, lol)—

—I generally lean towards more sun-warmed colors, lots of browns, oranges, pinks, yellows and reds go into my mixing. I sometimes paint them with sunburned cheeks too—if just to imply theyre out n about in these warm fire country days, enjoying the sunlight while they have it.

The only person I keep that kind of eggshell white color for is Sai, because they straight up gave him like. #FFFFFF skin.

which feels like a direct commentary on his lack of exposure to sunlight (to borrow Yamato's metaphor for leaving Root) as well as tying him thematically to his jutsu, with like ink black hair and paper white skin, or something. Since that aesthetic decision is directly tied to his character, I don't mess with it that much.

Similarly, there are some characters who are depicted as having slightly darker skin in general in naruto, like Iruka Sensei, or Naruto himself, and so when I paint them, I try to keep their skin colors slightly darker than I might paint the others, to stay in line with the information I've been given.

that said—that's all the intentional stuff! A lot of the reason that my drawings have the skin colors that they do is because of unintentional factors. For example, none of the skin tones I ever use have been "straight from the tube" so to say. I'm always mixing them, which includes a margin of error and change with something like watercolor, because I'm unable to colorpick the same way that I might if I were drawing digitally.

In fact, even if I wrote down an Exact Mixture of how to make the skin color I want (Usually for Yamato's, for example, I usually three drops of green, one drop of brown, two drops of ochre, and two drops of different kinds of red) i would STILL get a lot of variety in the actual paint.

This is because, as I work, the water colors will dry out, and as they dry out, the colors will get more intense as the water-to-pigment ratio changes. I can add water back into the mix, but there's no guarantee that the amount of water I add will be the same amount of water I started with, for example, in this comic i painted both kakashi and tenzō's skin with the same pool of paint, but kakashi's ended up much darker because I painted his when the pool was more dry!

so...basically, there's no way to make sure I get the exact same color mixture every time, unless I only ever use freshly mixed paint, which is not something I have the patience or the money to constantly be doing hahaha, (and tbh, even then, if i use some drops that are larger than they were last time, or smaller than they were last time, that will affect the color—as will getting paint from a bottle I haven't shaken up thoroughly enough, which might give me more pigment! It's a very fiddly process)

you can actually see a lot of variety in skin tones just in sakura

I'm trying my best, but the inconsistency of watercolor is something I do struggle with, honestly. like, you can see a lot of variety not just in the way her skin color came out (some of these just look...straight up pink 😖), but also the color of her hair, the color of her eyes...etc etc.

I'm trying my best, but the inconsistency of watercolor is something I do struggle with, honestly. the amount of times ive had to grab the paper towel, sponge it all up and start again...it's a wonderful medium but it's an exercise in frustration certainly

#yamswers #melancholic-lionness #and thank u for the well wishes! i had an ok night i actually got some sleep!!!#i hope that u had a good day or night too

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 3 years

Note

I'm curious can I ask for head cannons on how azul, jade and floyd might react if they came home to their kids having paint all over them? (Like those funny toddler videos where the parents are trying not to laugh at all the paint or food all over there kids?)

I don’t watch those kinds of videos, but I’m sure I could whip some fun headcanons up for you, Anon!

Curiouser and Curiouser...

Azul looks absolutely mortified. Not only are his kids covered in paint (at least that can be washed away easily), but so is the fine furniture and wallpaper that he had spent hours picking out and designing.

If they have gotten black paint all over the place, Azul might start feeling a little faint in the knees. Since he’s an octopus merman, to him it almost looks like the scene of a gruesome murder, with the contents of a pierced ink sack strewn about.

He’s quick to pull his children aside and lightly scold them. “I’m not mad,” (okay, maybe he is a little) Azul insists, “I’m just disappointed. You are old enough to know better—and I believe I taught you to behave better than this. ‘A clean space means a clean mind’... An organized living space lends itself to focus and concentration, and this mess disrupts that.”

As a man that’s all about fairness, Azul thinks it is only fair that those responsible for the mess clean it up themselves. When the kids return from the bathroom, Azul has already rolled his sleeves up and retrieved sponges and a bucket of soapy, lukewarm water for them to use.

He rolls his sleeves up and joins his kids in the clean up process, helping when there is a particularly tough patch of paint to scrub away or a hard spot to reach.

When all is said and done, they collapse onto the floor and to relax their tired bodies. Azul holds his children’s paint-covered forms close, and they share a family cuddle.

After getting his initial shock, Jade laughs a bit while hanging up his hat and jacket from work. With a thoughtful expression, he crouches down to meet his children at eye level.

Jade asks what sorts of antics they’ve been up to while he was away. He wants to hear the whole story—it must be an interesting one, no?—and it would help him unwind after a long day.

As his kids take turns explaining what events led up to the massive mess of paint, Jade listens in eagerly. His eyes flicker back and forth between them, as though watching Magift teams exchanging the disc in a furious match.

He produces his handkerchief and helps wipe up the paint splattered on his children’s faces. As he does this, he calmly reprimands them. “I do not mind if you amuse yourselves in messy matters... But next time, take better precautions to ensure that you are not discovered, lest you be ready to accept the consequences. Fufufu. After all, a ‘crime’ is not considered to be a ‘crime’ if you are not caught, correct?”

With that being said, Jade whisks his kids away to bathe them—one in his arms, the other holding his hand. He helps massage and rinse out any paint that might have dried in their hair, then allows them to enjoy the rest of their soak amid sweet-smelling bubbles.

When his children are all dried off and dressed, Jade smiles and informs them that they’ll be eating extra large portions of vegetables today as a little punishment for being “caught”. They’d better be craftier next time they get up to some mischief, or there will be even more vegetables to come!

Of course Floyd gets upset with his kids—in fact, he almost throws a bit of a tantrum himself. How come they had all this fun without him, huh? That’s just not fair!!

He doesn’t worry about cleaning up his kids at all, he just wants to join in—but Floyd’s face drops at the few bottles of paint that his kids had been messing around with. “Eeeh? That’s way too little to work with. When you’re having fun, you gotta go all out, right? Here, lemme see what I can rustle up for you guys. There’s so many other things that you could use~”

Floyd runs all over the house grabbing whatever seems to be viable art supplies (kitchen sponges, scissors, tape, crayons, hair dryers, milk, shaving cream...) and reappears before his children to unload all of it with a big grin. He loves the way their faces light up and how they squeal with delight at all the exciting new toys he has offered them.

They start doing all kinds of experiments together: melting a bunch of crayons with a hair dryer to see what kind of color they make, making designs on the table in shaving cream, finger painting... Floyd gets covered in paint and all the other supplies they use, so now he matches his children!

At some point, Floyd decides to be cheeky and swipe a dab of paint across his kids’ foreheads. They didn’t take that well, and retaliated by smear paint on their dad’s face, too! It turns into a battle, with both sides trying to cover as much of the other side with as much paint as possible!

At the end of the evening, everyone is pooped out and pretty much covered in rainbow blotches. They all lie on the floor, catching their breath and having a good laugh at the day’s happenings.

#twst x reader #twst #Azul Ashengrotto #Jade Leech #Floyd Leech #twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland requests #twisted wonderland scenarios #curiouser and curiouser #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Jade Leech x Reader #Floyd Leech x Reader #Octavinelle #Tweels

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spxllcxstxr · 3 years

Text

Inked • S.B

(Gif not mine)

Request: Hi! Could I request a Soulmate AU with Sirius please? Marauders era with matching tattoos. No rush and thank you 🌹🖤 — @fific7

Summary: Mary is determined to find your soulmate and not even an oncoming storm will stop her. (Soulmate AU)

Warnings: some tattoo talk?, rain, thunder, I guess hints/implied bullying, Peter makes an appearance but like he’s not a key part and he’s not like bad or anything

Word Count: 2.3k

A.N: This is the kind of star I’m envisioning for your soulmark (just not yellow) I actually never specify the color, so you can imagine any color you want. This took me like a week to write for some reason. But I like how it turned out. Hopefully you guys do too! Love you all ❤️

****

No one ever told you that soulmarks tingled.

When the eight pointed star seared itself into the flesh of the inside of your left elbow at age sixteen, you thought that was it. You thought that it would just sit there innocently to the point where it wouldn’t cross your mind every second of every day, but Merlin were you wrong.

The prickling of the mark was constant, like pins and needles jabbing relentlessly into your arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, it was just an obnoxious and infuriating reminder that you still haven’t found your soulmate.

Hogwarts was practically the place for the vast majority of witches and wizards to find their soulmate, as it was basically the only topic discussed amongst the sixth and seventh years.

Honestly, you just wanted your mark to stop its incessant tingling to the point where you wouldn’t mind anyone being your soulmate. You’ve never heard any complaints from your friends who had already found their true loves, so you assume that the sensation stops eventually.

But you were tired of scratching at your arm making it look like you had some weird sort of flesh eating disease. It was unflattering and highly inconvenient.

Sure, you could run around like a headless hippogriff with your sleeve rolled up asking everyone you encounter if they’ve seen another person with that identical mark, but that’s not romantic. And you wanted romantic, Merlin damn it.

Plus, imagine the burn of embarrassment that would overtake your entire being if no one shared your soulmark. You shudder at the mere thought.

So, you learn to live with it.

You almost want to rip your arm off when it gets particularly bad while studying or trying to get the perfect measurement for your potion, but after a full year you’re almost used to it.

You’re used to how often your friends would gush about their own soulmates and their constant questions about why you’re still single as well.

Mary MacDonald, one of your best friends, had already found her soulmate, some boy from Beauxbatons that sent her too many Howlers during breakfast, but they loved each other, so who were you to complain?

But ever since she found hers, she’s been pretty determined to seek out yours. Even getting her boyfriend to ask around his own school. You can never show your face around Beauxbatons and that’s final.

She’ll make you sit around the courtyard, pretending to read a book, while she scans the arms of the many crowds in search of your star. Mary tries to walk in on top secret Quidditch practices to get a glimpse of any rolled up sleeves, but so far, no good.

That’s really the only reason she’s dragging you down to the Black Lake even though dark grey clouds are hanging heavy in the sky.

“Mary!” You huff as she drags you down the grassy hills, the smell of rain thick in the air. “I know what you’re doing, I’m not daft, y’know.”

Her hand tightens around yours as she starts to feel you resist.

“What I’m doing? (Y/n), it’s a nice day to just hang out at the lake!” Mary cries, the lie hidden well if she wasn’t your best friend.

“Mary it’s about to torrential downpour.” You scoff.

“I thought you liked the rain.” She shrugs innocently, the sound of weeds getting crushed beneath your school shoes loud in your ears.

“Mary, my soulmate might not even be at Hogwarts!” You exclaim, trying to get out of this whole situation. You could be curled up by the fire with a sugar quill, but no, why would Mary let you have some peace and quiet? “They might be older or younger than me—“

“Well we won’t know that, will we, until we check everyone in our year first.” She insists.

The deep murky water is in sight, a few people are lazily lounging around the water’s edge. Like they haven’t even noticed the rain clouds overhead.

“You’re obsessed.” You sigh, finally stopping your attempts to wriggle away from her.

“It’s because I love you.” She smiles sweetly at you, cheeks pushed high, obscuring her dark eyes.

You continue to rub the inside of your arm against the side of your abdomen, attempting to find some sort of relief. The scratchy fabric of your white button down against your grey vest is probably the most effective. The closer to the bank you get, the better you’re able to make out the figures.

The owner of the vibrant red hair was obviously Lily, one of Mary’s friends, and also the more sensible of the group considering her coat was tightly wrapped around her. She’s in a somewhat similar situation as you—she hasn’t shown her soulmark to anyone. However, if what Mary drunkenly told you one night is true, it matches James Potter’s to a tee. Poor her.

Peter was also there, kicking rocks around and chuckling at whatever story Lily was telling them. His Gryffindor jumper is a little short on him while his slacks are a little long, mud dirtying the hem of them. As far as you know, he doesn’t even have a soulmark. It’s not uncommon or something to be ashamed of, but ever since certain people found out, it’s been quite the issue. Sure the infamous Marauders took care of the situation the best they could, but the damage was already done.

The last person was obviously Sirius, you could tell by the way he has his wand situated in his bun. He was closer to the water, picking up flat stones to skip across. His bark like laugh echoing across the space. You and Mary weren’t too far from the group now, so you could tell that the top two buttons of his dress shirt were popped open. Sirius Black’s soulmark was another mystery. He seems like the type to brag about something as important as a soulmark, but as far as you know, only James, Remus, and Peter were privy to that sort of information.

“Hey guys!” Lily perks up, waving at the two of you.

You smile and wave at her, but as Mary stops and chat, you gravitate closer to Peter and Sirius.

“So where are the other two?” You ask, watching as his stone skips across the water, finally ending with a satisfying plunk!

Sirius turns to face you, a few loose strands framing his face, blowing slightly in the wind.

“Detention.” He remarks casually, lazily trying to tame his curls.

“And you two aren’t?”

Peter shakes his head enthusiastically, blond hair bobbing around. “Sirius and I managed to escape before Slughorn lost it.”

“Hey Pete!” You hear Mary call from behind you. “Don’t you wanna know what you missed in Muggle Studies?”

“Shit, yeah.” Peter bounds over to where Lily and Mary are sitting, leaving you and Sirius alone. Your feet shuffle at the predicament.

You slowly inch closer to Sirius, the large distance awkward without a third person. You’re forced to hold down a wince as your mark prickles almost painfully.

Sirius’ eyes are almost the same shade as the clouds in the sky as they pierce into yours.

“You know how to skip rocks?” He tosses you a smooth stone which you catch effortlessly.

You open your mouth to respond but before you’re able to, you’re cut off by a clap of thunder. The ripples of thunder makes you jump slightly.

“We should probably go inside—“ You start, shivering at the cold wind that begins to roll past you.

“Scared of a little thunder, (Y/n)?” Sirius teases, smirking at your shivering form.

“Don’t be a prick.” You snort. “Just throw your rock.”

You push the thought of the oncoming storm to the back of your mind as you position yourself on the bank.

The water laps at you shoes as you toe the edge, running your thumb over the smooth surface. You mirror Sirius’ position, slightly crouched at the knee, body angled towards the lake.

“One...two...three!”

You watch his body move fluidly through the positions, the stone releasing and skipping across the water delicately. Not only do you get distracted by Sirius, but the mark on your arm gives a sudden jolt, making your posture falter and your stone crash recklessly into the lake.

Sirius brings a ringed fist up to his mouth, trying and failing to stifle a laugh.

“It’s not that funny.” You grumble, embarrassed.

“I mean, it’s pretty fucking hilarious. I thought you said you knew how to skip rocks?” He crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows raised, a chuckle still lightly escaping his amused smile.

“Technically, I didn’t tell you shit.” You remark. “The thunder cut me off.”

“Ah yes. The spooky thunder.” He drawls, wagging his painted fingers at you mockingly.

You bring your hand up to flick him off when you feel a cool dot of water drop onto your hand.

“Hey, did you just feel a—“

In the middle of talking, one raindrop becomes hundreds, the torrential downpour almost instantly soaking you to your bones. You hair plasters to your skin, clothes clinging onto you.

“—raindrop?” You utter weekly, a chill coming over you.

Your eyes widen as you look at Sirius, how his dark hair sticks wildly to his face, like curtains across his eyes.

Lily and Mary let out identical high pitched shrieks, and you hear the sound of mud squelching as the three run back towards the castle.

As Sirius tries to wipe the wet hair from his face, you grab onto his wrist, pulling him as your sprint back to the castle. You’re fumbling as you try not to slip in the mud but at the same time try get to the cover of the castle quickly.

“A little thunder, my arse, Sirius!” You huff out, his wrist still grasped tightly in your hand.

You hear him chuckle behind you, easily keeping up with your pace.

Cold water traces down your back and fills your shoes, your discomfort rapidly increasing with every step and every second you spend outdoors.

Your mind drifts off to Sirius, who was only in his white uniform button down. He must be freezing.

After sloshing through puddles and mucking up your shoes, you manage to get under the cover of the stone castle.

Your teeth are chattering and you body trembles, but at least the rain isn’t cutting into your skin anymore.

Lily, Mary, and Peter are nowhere to be found, though they’re probably making their way to the Gryffindor common room already.

Sirius is wringing out his drenched dark curls, his wand between his lips, but you’re too focused in the face that his shirt is now completely see through. Your eyes wander as you ogle his fit body, shamelessly trailing everywhere. You bite your bottom lip at your confidence.

However, something catches your eye as you admire his arms. A black splotch. Like a tattoo in the inside of his elbow. You somehow go colder than you already were.

“Admiring my beauty—Hey!”

You step forward and latch onto his arm, trying to get a better look at the spot on his arm. Initially, he struggles, but you jab your finger into his skin, your own mark tingling beneath your wet clothes.

“What’s your problem, (Y/n)?” He angrily grunts.

“What’s this, Sirius?” You demand, looking at him.

“Why?” Sirius rips his arm out of your grasp, trying his best to hide the mark from you.

“Because,” You explain, rolling up your own sleeve to expose the eight pointed star on your arm. “We might have something in common.”

Your entire body erupts into shivers both from the cold wind against your soaked skin and the way your soulmark buzzing.

The star stands out against your skin and you watch Sirius’ eyes widen, his jaw going slightly slack.

“Sirius.” You whisper. “I need to know if you’re my soulmate.”

The rain pounds against the castle, wind whistles, and thunder claps, and yet you don’t jump. You’re too focused on Sirius’ expression.

Silently, he brings his index finger to your mark and lightly traces the shape with his fingertip. His finger is cold, but you barely realize it because of the shock that runs through your body, originating from his touch. Goosebumps run wildly across your flesh.

He swallows harshly before pulling away and recklessly pushes his sleeve up the length of his arm. Your heart beats wildly in your chest in anticipation.

Sirius shoves his arm in front of you and you bring your gaze to focus on the inside of his elbow.

And there it is.

His soulmark.

Your soulmark.

The lines are clean and the points are sharp, the star is clear against his skin.

“Oh.”

“You’re my soulmate.” Sirius mutters. “Oh thank Merlin!” He’s laughing, a smile growing across his face.

His laughter is infectious and you find yourself joining him, practically jumping with glee.

Sirius latches onto you, pulling your wet bodies close. He brings his lips to your forehead, warmth spreading from the contact.

“We should celebrate.” Sirius remarks, pulling away just enough to see your entire form.

“Hold on.” You chuckle. “I think you’re forgetting to do something.”

His grey eyes flick down to your lips. “How could I ever forget the best part?” He smirks.

You lips are slow to connect, relishing in the sounds of the rain and how his his hands wrap around your elbows, thumb pressed into your mark.

When they finally join together, you feel whole. Like two puzzle pieces linked together. Eyes flutter shut as emotion run rampant through your body. Your mark tingles before fizzling out when you and Sirius disconnect.

You’re breathless as you cling onto him, as he clings onto you.

“We’ve got a party to throw,” Sirius grabs your hand. “soulmate.”

A stupid grin makes its way across your face.

“Lead the way, soulmate.”

•

Sirius Black Taglist: @quindolyn @fific7 @msmb @lunalovecroft

All Character Taglist: @aspiringsloth20 @amourtentiaa @cherie-draco

#Sirius black #sirius black x reader #Sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black imagine #the marauders x reader

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maggies-scribblings · 3 years

Text

Yarning For Her

Adrien is smitten with the girl who's always been there, in the row behind him. But when his plans to ask Marinette out unravel, a secret throws him for a loop…

Written for the Miraculous Writer's Guild April Event 2021: Followers sent five emojis as prompts to the @mlwritersguild Tumblr for the writers to pick one to write for. I chose the emojis sent by @ladycat1: ✨ 😊 👀 👩🏻 🧵

Canon compliant up to Season 4, Episode 4: M. Pigeon 72.

👩🏻

It was finally happening. The event everyone was waiting for… well, everyone except the main protagonist of said event.

Marinette could feel it, though she could hardly believe it. She noticed Adrien looking at her with more intensity, when he thought she wasn’t looking. How he had trouble finding the right words when talking to her. All the tiny gestures of attention, like offering to help with a difficult subject or a complex art project, or praising her outfit every day, even if she’d worn it several times before.

Nino could tell, too: questions about Marinette and her favourite colour, food, flower, or whatever else were whispered in his right ear all day.

Actually, the whole class noticed Adrien’s marked change in behaviour. His cheerful hellos were now stuttered in Marinette’s general direction. His head hid on his shoulders whenever Marinette sighed or yawned, as if his neck couldn’t handle her fresh breaths. Even his athletic skills were now replaced with an unexplained jerkiness. The fact that the weather was warmer and the girls’ gym suits gave way to short shorts and strappy tops might have had something to do with it.

In short, Adrien fell in love with Marinette. Hard.

👀

When it started, Adrien couldn’t exactly tell. Ever since that first day of school, Marinette had held a special space in his heart (most of which had been stolen by Ladybug the previous day). She was one of his first and dearest friends.

But now… after getting to know Marinette, her loving and kind nature, after seeing her helping others without asking for anything back, after finally noticing how pretty she was… he wasn’t so sure.

That day at the pool was definitely a turning point.

First there was that unplanned double dive. During those milliseconds when they were falling, Adrien’s thought process went something like this:

Danger!—Why is Marinette here?—Protect!—Wow, she looks so cute in that swimsuit!

As they hit the water, their arms instinctively reached out to the other as they sank, swirling back up to the surface in a soft embrace — just like that night in New York, when they had danced floating in the air, under the full moon.

And when they were leaving the pool, Adrien was so happy and surprised to see she still had the umbrella he’d given her way back then! Sweet as always, she offered to give it back to him, even though it was raining and she had to walk home.

She was standing next to him (she linked her arm in his!) when that pesky umbrella decided to close on them, and they were pulled even closer for a few seconds. Very close. He could smell the chlorine in her hair mixed with the scent of sweets that always surrounded her. He thought he felt her heart beating faster and faster. Maybe it wasn’t. His heart certainly was. He could feel her warm breath through his shirt, and it drove him a little crazy.

When they said goodbye that day, he could hardly take his eyes off her. He even bumped his head on the car door frame. Ladies and gentlemen, here’s the charming, elegant model Adrien Agreste, unable to enter a car (come to think of it, he seemed to have a bit of a problem with doors whenever Marinette was around).

✨

The few weeks that went by did nothing to sort out Adrien’s feelings about the two black-haired girls in his life. His days were mortifying, his nights restless. On one such night, Adrien tossed and turned, but sleep wouldn’t come. The full moon and bright stars shining through the window frames painted his room with grid patterns, a constant reminder of his confined life.

Adding to that, his mind was racing with memories of his (now frequent) clumsiness and embarrassment at school. He recalled the fumble of the day: going into the classroom while trying to look cool, he managed to snag his bag strap on the door handle, causing him to jerk back and hit the ground on his butt in front of the whole class.

Adrien groaned and turned again. Worst thing was, he had no idea how she felt for him. She kept sending mixed signals. Her behaviour towards him wasn’t as weird as it had been, but that didn’t mean a lot. He’d even asked her a couple of times. He remembered the time they visited the wax museum, when she said she didn’t like him like that.

“What’s the matter, kid?” Plagg yawned from his side of the pillow, annoyed by his bearer’s restlessness. “Who is it this time? Spots or bakery girl?”

Adrien didn’t bite, going back into his musings instead.

His mind turned to Ladybug… These days, Spots occupied a much smaller part of his thoughts. He still got the occasional butterflies in his stomach when he saw her, or when she praised him and his humour. She would always be his first love, and not an easy girl to forget… but she was right, of course — she was always right — as long as they had enemies, they couldn’t reveal their identities, much less deepen their relationship. Back when Bunnyx first showed up, they found out that there would be a new Hawkmoth and countless akumas in the future, and who knew when that would end?

Plagg was still grumbling about sleep and cheese. Adrien playfully flicked his kwami’s ear.

“Shut up, Plagg! I’m trying to sleep!”

“Very unsuccessfully, I might say,” Plagg flew out of his reach. “You sighed four-hundred and fifty-eight times in the last hour.”

“Come on… can’t you see I’m in turmoil here?” Adrien turned his back to the kwami. It was no use arguing with a deity, no matter how minuscule.

“Four-hundred and fifty-ni—” Plagg’s teasing was interrupted by a pillow hitting him.

😊

This wouldn’t do. Adrien couldn’t stand his own indecisiveness any more. He decided to ask Marinette out, that very day. After a reviving shower, he got dressed and looked in the mirror. The dark circles around his eyes were evident, but he hated wearing concealer to school. He might as well add a couple of details to his usual get-up: a pair of Gabriel’s new collection sunglasses and his favourite blue scarf.

He arrived at school early, and while most of the class was either chatting in the courtyard or going into the classroom, Marinette was nowhere to be seen. Adrien went into the locker room, and lurked behind the last row of lockers while students got in, got their things and left.

Finally, the hurricane that was late-for-class-Marinette thundered in, scolding herself for oversleeping as she got her books for the morning. When she closed the door, there was Adrien, leaning against the cabinets with his best Chat Noir smirk as he looked over the rim of his sunglasses and greeted her.

“Good morn—”

He didn’t have time to finish his line, as a very startled Marinette squeaked and grabbed his free arm to spin him around and pin him to the lockers with an elbow to his throat.

It took a few moments for Adrien realise exactly what had happened, before she released her hold.

“I’m sorry, I… panicked,” Marinette said, as she stepped back and continued to gesticulate wildly and mumble more awkward apologies.

Still frozen in place, Adrien managed to adjusted his crooked sunglasses.

“Marin—” he had to clear his throat. “No, I— It’s o-ow!”

Adrien tried and failed to step forward, as he heard a ripping sound — his scarf was caught in Marinette’s locker, and the momentum slammed him back into the metal doors with a loud bang.

The proverbial stars that blurred his vision cleared up to show Marinette very close to him, fumbling with the lock to release the scarf.

“Sorry, so sorry, I’m such a klutz!”

“It’s okay, no harm do—”

Adrien stopped talking when he saw that the scarf had a large rip, disappointment obvious upon his face.

“Oh no!” Marinette covered her mouth as she saw the damage. “Your scarf! I ruined it!”

At this point, Adrien would usually smile and say something like ‘it’s okay’ or ‘no worries’, but he couldn’t lie: he really loved that scarf. It was his favourite colour, warm and cosy, yet light enough to wear on a spring day, and a rare thoughtful gift from his father. He pouted a little as his fingers traced the tear.

“I can fix it!”

He lifted his eyes to Marinette as she got on her tiptoes to unwind the scarf from his neck.

“I can make it look as good as new. I know you’re worried, after all it’s your dad’s birthday gift,” she rambled as she delicately folded it, “but I have leftover yarn— I mean, I think I have the same colour, and it’s a simple pattern.”

There was something odd about the way she worded that, but Adrien dismissed it. He must have made a weird face, because now she had a concerned expression.

“I mean, if you trust me with it… I wouldn’t blame you if you didn’t after I destroyed it. ”

“No—I mean, don’t be silly, it was an accident… I shouldn’t have sneaked up on you like that!” He managed a relieved little smile. “Still, my father might be upset if he saw I ripped it. Are you sure you can fix it?”

Marinette’s eyes averted his for a moment, as she returned the folded up scarf.

“I’ll do my best! I’m not a pro like your father, but I’m sure I can make it as good as new in no time at all!”

They agreed to go to Marinette’s place after school so that she could start working on it right away, then ran off to class as the second bell rang.

Not exactly the way I planned it, Adrien thought as he scrambled onto his seat, but I guess it worked!

🧵

Adrien reclined in the chaise-longue and looked around Marinette’s bedroom. It was the total opposite of his, huge and aseptic and cold. On the contrary, these walls had warm colours and pictures everywhere, and it smelled amazing, fruity shampoo mixed with glue and ink from her many design projects, mixed with sweets from the bakery, and everything about it was so welcoming and cosy and so… Marinette.

“Yes!” Her delighted voice interrupted his reveries. “I knew I still had it!”

Adrien chuckled as he saw Marinette triumphantly holding a ball of light blue yarn, then get several needles from her yarn basket and sit at her sewing station to start working. He switched seats to her desk chair and rolled close to her.

“Can I help?”

“Sure! Let me just…”

Marinette picked up a long, thin knitting needle and started to thread it on the scarf, just above the tear. She was so concentrated and her movements so careful and precise, she might as well be defusing a bomb. Adrien noticed her tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth and wondered what her kisses would taste like.

“There. I have the brakes on, now let’s get going.”

Marinette found the end stitch at the corner of the scarf and cut it. Giving Adrien the end of the yarn, she continued.

“Hold this. Make a ball while I unravel it.”

“Huh? Un-what?” Much as Adrien trusted her skills, he panicked. “Won’t you make it worse?”

“No, because I’m holding the knitting with this,” she pointed at the longer needle she had threaded through the scarf.

Marinette turned her chair, so they were sitting face to face, knees almost touching, and started to quickly unravel the bottom part of the scarf, while he rolled up the thread in a ball, both enjoying the comfortable silence. He noticed a small piece of fabric falling from one of the edges and bent down to pick it up.

“What’s this?” Adrien thought out loud while examining it.

As soon as Marinette lifted her eyes from her work and saw what he was holding, her eyes went wide and her cheeks red.

“Oh, it’s nothing—” she tried unsuccessfully to snatch the fabric from his hand. “Probably just the washing inst—”

It was not an ordinary washing instructions tag. It was tiny and had been woven into the knitting, so discreetly he’d never noticed it before. He turned the fabric over to see a recognisable signature.

Marinette

“Wait— you made this?” Adrien picked up the other end of the scarf from her lap and examined like he’d never seen it before. “Wha—? How? D-did my father buy it off your website?”

So that’s why she was so confident about fixing it. He searched Marinette’s face for an explanation, but she just shook her head and kept looking down, unravelling the loops one by one.

“No— of course not— your site wasn't set up back then, we only took those photos later…”

Adrien thought back to the time Nathalie handed him the present, neatly packed in a box with a ribbon. He’d never seen that kind of care in his father’s presents, just standard gift bags with expensive pens, straight from a corporate catalogue. His train of thought was broken by a couple of tears falling on his hands.

“Marinette…” he murmured, lifting her chin to look into her misty eyes. “Did you make this for me?”

She nodded with a tiny smile. He moved his hand from her chin to cup her cheek, wiping her tears with his thumb.

“Was this supposed to be your present for me?” Another nod. “How did this mess happen then?”

“I…” Marinette had to clear her throat and finally looked at him. Something in her eyes changed from avoidance to determination. “I wanted to give it to you personally, but I couldn’t gather the nerve… then one thing led to another, and I left it in your house, and I even signed it, but…” she shrugged.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I just… couldn’t. You were so happy with the present from your dad. I couldn’t ruin it for you.”

Adrien made a mental note to find out exactly what had happened, then set all his negative feelings aside. His heart was too full of love to think about anything other than the girl in front of him.

“Oh, Marinette…” he softly chided as he hugged her. How could this girl be so selfless, on top of everything else? She cared for him, really cared for him, even back then. “I wish you’d told me.”

He released the hug and pulled her closer, into his lap. Marinette set the scarf on the sewing table and put her arms around his neck. Her tears were gone and a hint of a smile played on her lips.

“That way,” Adrien caressed her nose with his, “I would have thanked you properly.”

“Oh yeah?” Marinette breathed, her lips very close to his. “You can thank me now.”

They closed the distance between them, their lips melding into a sweet kiss, then another, and then a few more. Adrien’s heart was beating so fast he could hardly bear it. Then he remembered he should probably breathe at some point.

“Wow.”

“If that’s the way you thank a person for a present, I’ll start giving them more often,” Marinette joked.

“Not anyone.” He pecked her lips. “Only you.”

They kissed again, this time more passionately. He kissed her eyes, the tip of her nose, her forehead, her neck, then back up to her lips…

The scarf was left forgotten on the sewing table. It could wait a few more hours before repairing.

Fin

Thanks to @hari-writes and @deinde-prandium for the beta read! ❤️

Constructive criticism is welcome and appreciated. English is not my first language and I tend to use UK English. If you catch any inconsistencies, please let me know.

My AO3. My Twitter. My Instagram.

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sirthisisa-wendys · 3 years

Text

The General (Part 7): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: the General makes you train, you wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into, and plans are revealed.

wc: 2K

tw: none

a/n: Thank you for being patient, sunshines! 7.5 will be out tonight as a huge thank you to all of my followers and anons who are reading. You all are just amazing.

masterlist

“Take a break!” The heavy rake is tossed to the ground,and you struggle for air, panting and coughing. Torturing you with the rake-swinging seemed to be Geto’s objective today, and it’s taking the life out of your body.

As you rest on your back - facing the sky - there’s a massive gust of air above you, and you tilt your head back to see a tiny, raven haired boy standing above you. He’s fanning you eagerly, face scrunched up in frown as he exerts all of his energy on the fan. Your first reaction is to stare at the child in fascination; the next is to laugh.

“Junpei…” you chuckle, and the child stops, letting the fan drift to his side. “You’re too sweet.” He nods once, huffing out a short breath, then starts fanning you again, making your hair blow back behind your ears.

“Giving Lady y/n a nice breeze, Junpei?” Geto asks, walking towards you two with the rake in his hand.

“Yes, Master Geto,” Junpei affirms, scrunching his face up even more as he increases the force of his fanning. Geto leans on the rake and watches the scene with a small smile on his face, and you allow Junpei to continue his task for a moment longer before standing. You grin at the child, placing a hand on his head as you murmur:

“Thank you, sweet one.” His hair bobs as he bows to you, then to Geto, and dashes off into the camp once more. You watch the child run off, his hair flying in the stale air of the mid-day.

“You have quite a few admirers, I see,” Geto begins, and you shake your head. “First, little Itadori, now Junpei… who’s next, I wonder?”

“I would like to wager a certain General would be next in line to try and win my hand,” you reply; Geto straightens up immediately and walks closer to you, a lazy grin painted on his face.

“Well, it seems that General might have quite a difficult time getting past your growing line of suitors.” You both chuckle, and Geto tilts up your chin with a forefinger. You’re prepared to kiss him - well, that is until he stops and says:

“Only six more sets of ten swings to go.”

_______________________________________________________________________

You can barely bring your spoon to your lips during lunch.

“My Lady, do you require assistance?”

You shake your head no, but your arms are screaming please help us.

It was one thing to have to swing until the sun went down. It’s an entirely different thing to not only swing seventy times but also run laps around the field like a soldier in training. You felt exhausted by the third lap, but Geto encouraged you to run more; his hands on his knees as he watched you turn into a floundering fish on land.

The other women surely watched you train with a curious eye. No one dares to ask why you allow Geto to reduce you to mush in full view of the camp, even though they know why you let him do it.

Because he turns you to mush when they’re not watching, as well.

“Master Geto?” Kaori shouts, standing from her seated position on the tarp laid out in the grass.

“No, don’t!” you cry out, but she’s already trudging down the field, leaving you behind as she calls Geto’s name over and over again. You curse softly, sitting down your soup with agonizing slowness and try to stand from where you’re sitting, but your legs will not move an inch.

“She can barely move; how do you expect her to eat lunch and remain healthy if you render her arms useless? Then you walk off, leaving her to her own devices! You don’t pay me enough to feed her like you do during dinner.” Kaori is stomping back up to you, followed closely by Geto, who is shrugging on his haori and appears to be rather alarmed. “You should take better care of your captives, Master Geto. Look at her!”

You try your best to look as painless as possible, but the facade is broken when Geto extends a hand out and you grimace as you try to reach your own hand out. His face falls instantly and without speaking, he hoists you up into his arms. “Kaori, bring her soup, please. I’ll feed her myself.” Your head rests against his broad chest limply, and the way that his heart beats wildly against your ears oddly soothes you. You’re in pain, yes, but you’re not completely immune to the way he makes your heart stutter and trip over itself when he’s near you. And you’ve never been as near to him as you are now.

“When you are in pain, you need to say something,” Geto chastises as he lays you in the bed, folding a fur up before resting you against it and sitting beside you. “Kaori made it sound like you were dying.”

“I wasn’t dying,” you retort. “I tried to prevent her from saying anything.”

“So, you thought I wouldn’t find out later?” When the head maid deposits the soup bowl into Geto’s hands, he looks up at you and raises a brow.

“No, I--”

“Open.” A spoonful of clear onion soup is presented to you, and you obey, knowing your argument is completely lost already. “It’s my duty to make sure you’re taken care of while you’re here,” he continues, offering another spoonful. “You should let me know when you’re struggling, or when you need something.”

Your mouth is full of soup, so you can’t reply like you want to. But what would you even say? Would you tell him that you’ve been struggling between your plan - which had been altered slightly over the past few days - or would you tell him you needed him in more ways than one?

“Master Geto,” a voice calls out at the opening of the tent. You don’t recognize the voice at all, but when the person walks through the flaps, you recognize his face. His wide, dark blue eyes are all-too familiar, and the young man’s mouth presses together in a thin line at the sight of you being spoon-fed by Geto. This is the same man who captured you when you tried to run away the first time.

“Yuta, I’m glad you’re here. What do you have for me?” Yuta… The name rings a bell along with the memory of Nanami mentioning him when talking about the new emissary. Yuta produces a thin roll of brown paper and hands it to Geto.

“They’re not going to send another emissary.” The implications of this knowledge brings the weight of the world down on your shoulders, and you look to Geto’s face, which is blank.

“Wait, but that means--” you’re quickly interrupted by Yuta’s sharp eyes cutting to you, and Geto chuckles.

“That means I’d better get you all settled in the next village as soon as possible.”

_______________________________________________________________________

“What if the elders don’t agree to his plan?” you wonder aloud, and Kaori runs water down your arms before answering softly.

“Then he will wipe the village out, my Lady.”

“But how? And single handedly?”

“I won’t claim to know how he does it. I have never been privy to his methods, nor would I want to be.”

You think about Kaori’s words long after the bath was over, alone in the bedroom and wrapped in furs. The thought of Geto slaughtering an entire village is chilling, but his truly ruthless side was not something you had been exposed to. You shake thoughts of death out of your mind and stand from the bed, dragging the fur pelt behind you as you stride over to Geto’s desk to eye his newest plans.

The page full of black and red ink marks is unfamiliar to you, and you can’t make heads or tails of the drawings despite looking at it from different angles. The mystery of the paper engrosses you fully - so much so that you don’t hear someone approaching you from behind.

“They’re formations.” Yuta speaks behind you, and you jolt, knocking your hip against the table.

“I b-beg your pardon?” you stutter, clutching the pelt around you tightly.

“Formations... for battle.” Yuta reaches over to point at a circle and then to the arrows moving away from it. “This is the center of the formation - where Master Gojo will be - and this,” he points to the triangle at the head of the formation. “Is where Master Geto will be.”

“Why is Gojo well-protected and not Geto?” The inquiry is met with laughter as Yuta slides the paper away from you.

“He’s not being protected. He’s protecting everyone else.”

“And when is this occurring?” Yuta raises a brow, looking over at you with a tender gaze.

“Haibara and Gojo are negotiating with the closest village as we speak, but we could encounter the Imperial Warriors at any time. This could happen tomorrow, if I’m being honest.”

“Tomorrow?” Your shock doesn’t affect the young man at all, and he steps away from you, eyeing you carefully.

“I won’t say anything further. Geto is protecting you from this information for some reason, and has obviously commanded Kaori to say nothing as well.” With this, he exits, and you’re left looking at the squares, circles, and triangles while wondering where you fit into all of this mess.

_______________________________________________________________________

Your encounter with Yuta gave you more questions than answers, and when the bed dips behind you, you roll over to meet Geto face to face, intent on getting answers.

“I thought you were asleep.” You don’t respond to the statement, instead sitting up fully and pushing your hair out of your eyes.

“You should have told me that you could go to war at any time.” Geto frowns, sliding in next to you and tilting his head to the side.

“I’m waiting on word from Haiba--”

“And that. What happened to my village after you took me?”

“Little one, I haven’t touched your village. You would know if I made any decisions about the fate of your peers.”

“Kaori doesn’t know what happened to her family, and she’s just a maid! Why would you feel obligated to tell me - a captive - about my family?”

“You’re more than just a captive to me, y/n. You know that,” he whispers, blinking slowly.

“Right, I’m a pawn,” you grunt. “I asked you to tell me your game, and now I’m asking you again. What do you plan on doing with me while you’re away at war? I know you’re not stupid enough to leave me here while you’re away and can’t keep an eye on--”

Geto puts up a hand, trying to stop you from speaking. “You’re right, I hav--”

“Did you know I tried to run away?” The General looks at you, face blank. “But I came back and…” You fumble for the words, but they don’t feel right in your mouth. So, you rephrase. “I came back because…” You pause. You remember the reason you justified coming back, but it doesn’t make sense now. You can’t even say you followed your own plan. It had fallen by the wayside the moment Geto’s lips met yours; that you knew for a fact.

“Nanami watched you; I knew you left the tent the moment you began walking across the camp,” he admits, and your lips part in surprise. “But you turned around. I came to confront you after dinner, and that’s why I was at the tent when you started to yell. My anger overshadowed my disappointment, but then even that was overshadowed by my desire to have you.”

“Then why--”

“I’m not leaving you here; you’re absolutely right about that. I wanted to wait to tell you when the time was right, but… I suppose now is the time. Your carriage will leave as soon as Gojo and Haibara send word back to me about the village. I’m sending you home.”

TAGLIST: @kamisamaundercover @jotazinha @just4readingfics @mxhi @sammytamaki @brownskinnedgirll @keelyshayee @leanne-tamashi @vabybizzle @amaris9

#geto x reader #jjk geto #jujutsu kaisen getou #geto suguru #getou x reader #jjk junpei #jjk yuta #jjk haibara #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen

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nohoney · 3 years

Text

Eyes lit

notes: Artist Keigo is something I did not know I needed until I made my own dumb paintings lol. Title credit from Crimewave by Crystal Castles

characters: Hawks/Keigo Takami

warnings: 18+, artist!Hawks, drug use, minor choking

summary:

You see swirls of purples and greens forming spirals that you’ve never thought of before, dancing like glitter being blown in the wind and then suddenly you see white. You’re thinking in tones of purples and pinks, they pulse and shine against a wall of white and now you’re thinking of Valentine’s day.

The blanket is pulled from over your head and you look up into golden honey eyes, they look even brighter and you swear that they glow as you look up into them. “You having fun under there babe?”

I’m not an artist, I don’t know how to paint. You told him, intimidated initially when you walked into his apartment and saw a box of paints along with two small easels. The only painting you’ve done was just with your fingers back in elementary school when you were a child, how were you supposed to paint alongside someone who’s a fucking art major who’s got a whole portfolio to backup his experience? But Keigo eased your worries, told you that there’s no need to be intimidated at all.

“You don’t have to worry at all about being good or anything like that dove. The trip will tell you what to paint.”

“It’s gonna look like shit when the trip is over Keigo.”

“Don’t say that dove, art is subjective. Trust me, when you’re on you won’t care as much.” He touches the small of your back and leads you towards the dinner table, “And besides, you might really like what you make in the end.”

“I don’t know what I want to paint.”

“The trip will tell you what to paint, you’ll see.”

Keigo has you sit down to eat first, just takeout pizza from a nearby restaurant along with some breadsticks. Barbecue chicken with a side of ranch, he doesn’t like pepperoni pizza at all. His first choice was fried chicken or wings but that’s damn near what you eat with him almost all the time so this is his compromise. He’s got a little basket of snacks and candy on his kitchen countertop, prepared ahead of time for tonight along with a plastic container of red and green grapes already washed.

“I don’t like grapes Keigo.”

“Trust me, you’ll be grateful to those grapes when you’re on dove.”

He brought out a plastic baggie from his fridge and set out the contents of it onto a wooden chopping board, watching as he broke up the small pieces carefully with a knife. You heard that acid comes in forms of little blotter paper or that people put a drop of it into sugar cubes and dissolve it in water to micro dose someone. Keigo cuts two pieces of what look like little window panes, very small fragments and when you inspect them closer, it almost looks as if there’s little gold flakes inside the gelatin.

“When will I know it’s kicking in?” you ask him, looking down at the tiny piece that sits in the palm of your hand. Such a small little thing that’s apparently a strong hallucinogenic, Keigo’s told you before that he’s felt his sensations cross over like hearing colors or seeing sounds. You had no idea what he spoke of but the best way to find out is to give it a try. “How long will it take?”

Keigo’s fixing up the easels in front of the couch, has blankets ready and is putting a video playlist up on his television. “Depends on the person but most of the time it tends to kick in after half an hour or so. You’ll know when you’re on, you’ll see it.” he explains.

You look around Keigo’s apartment, paintings he made himself hung up on the walls of his home. Most of his paintings were done sober but he’s got a few framed up that he’s particularly proud of that he made when he went on acid trips. He’s already such an amazing artist, certain pictures on his walls capturing your attention and invoking particular emotions from you. You’ve seen Keigo color match your sweater in just a mere manner of seconds, sampling little bits of paints and combining them until the hues matched exactly what you were wearing. And there’s you, just a mere amateur when it came to the arts. But Keigo assures you again that it’s not about making something ‘good’, it’s just there for you to have fun with it. He’s got canvases of all shapes and sizes for you to work with and that even though he’ll be on too, he’s definitely going to take care of you for your first trip.

You trust Keigo, it’s just the canvases and the paints that make you nervous.

He stands in front of you, smiling gently before leaning down to kiss you. His lips are soft, just a hint of vanilla you taste off his mouth because you let him borrow your chapstick earlier, and it’s so tender the way he holds your cheek in his hand that your heart flutters in your chest and butterflies tickle the inside of your tummy. You feel a little flustered when he pulls back, blonde hair swept back stylishly and a lazy grin on his face as he holds his own tab in between his fingertips.

“Cheers!”

The little tab goes underneath your tongue and you’re just supposed to wait for it to dissolve.

So Keigo puts on the playlist and the two of you talk for a little bit before moving to the art stations. “Choose whatever colors you want dove, choose the colors that you think will speak to you.”

You squeeze certain colors you think you want to work with into your little plastic palette, making sure to shake the bottles first and filling all the little spaces that’s meant to hold the paint. Keigo easily chooses the paints he knows he’s going to work with to start himself off and sets himself in front of his easel. He wears a simple red hoodie and gray sweats, comfortable loungewear for the next few hours and you’d be lying if you said that you didn’t notice the print of his cock sometimes when he swiveled his hips a certain way. You wear pajamas pants and one of your soft sweaters, a gentle shade of lilac, perfect for keeping you warm on this rainy night.

You know you’ll be exhausted by the end of it, deciding to take acid for the first time overnight but at least you’ll have the next two days to recover.

And you’ll have Keigo as well.

He makes easy conversation with you, talking about how his week was and in turn asking how yours was. You look down at the paints in your palette as you talk back and forth with him, forcing yourself to not wonder how much time has passed. Your phone is by the kitchen table, placed face down so that you don’t obsess over the time so you try to measure the amount of time has passed based on the time of the videos playing on the television. Yet you start to care less about the time as you actually start to get caught up in the paints in front of you, experimenting and pleasantly surprised with how you came up with such a pretty violet color. You point it out to Keigo, stupidly excited over it but he smiles and agrees with you. “Such a pretty color dove, but not as pretty as you.”

His words make the butterflies flutter in your stomach again but you say nothing, turning back to your canvas and picking up a brush. For a few minutes you just stare back and forth between the paint and the white canvas, wondering how you should start off. Keigo obviously sees you concentrating too hard and reminds you, “Don’t think about it too hard, just paint and see what happens.”

Okay... so in other words, just do it.

So you take a deep breath, dip your brush in the paint, and make a single stripe at the very top edge of the canvas.

“See? Not so scary.”

“Y-Yeah, it’s not!” You squeak out, still embarrassed but a little less intimidated now that you actually started it. You’re not exactly sure what you’ll do with it but there’s no harm in just winging it.

Hm... wings...

You glance over to Keigo, one of his sleeves rolled up and his tattoo visible on his forearm. It’s a detailed wing on his forearm inked in only black, the very tip of it extended towards his elbow and he’s got a matching one on his other forearm as well. You remember the first time you saw them and how Keigo let you run your fingers over his tattoo, watching in amusement over how fascinated you were.

Back to your canvas, you see the sheen of the fresh paint on the white canvas and decide to add more to it. Maybe you’ll get inspired the more you add to it, thinking what colors compliment violet and what exactly you could create. Over the next few minutes you just continue painting the violet further onto the surface of the canvas, looking down briefly at the black paint that’s also in your palette and wonder if you could try painting a mountain. You recall plenty of times looking up at the sky when you were done hiking and just in awe of the colors of the sunset, hues of purples and reds and orange that invoked a certain feeling in your chest.

A sunset... a sunset!

Easy enough yeah?

You just have to add red, orange, yellow, probably a touch of blue... some clouds would be nice too.

So you spread more of the purple across the canvas, concentrating hard at first before realizing something. “Keigo?”

“Yes dove?”

“I think my painting is breathing.”

Keigo laughs from his side and you feel his hand ruffle your hair affectionately.

You look hard at your canvas and swear that you can see the paint inhale and exhale, the veins of the paint pulse in the painting. Wait... veins? You don’t remember painting anything like that, all you did was just cover part of the canvas to get you started. The longer you stare at the canvas, you swear that you can see the paint drip down slightly, the canvas inflating and deflating, and hidden designs on the untouched parts of the white canvas.

The acid had finally hit.

“Keigo... I think I’m on.” you say as you dip your brush into the water cup to wash off the violet, this time into the yellow paint and haphazardly brushing it onto the canvas before switching over to the bright red without washing off the yellow. You think how powerful the color red is, how strong and overpowering it is on the canvas and you tell Keigo, “I think you’d look gorgeous with red wings Keigo.”

Keigo is concentrated on his own canvas but he does glance over to you and smiles how you’re suddenly so into painting when you were so reluctant at first when you walked into his studio. He watches you blend the red into the yellow, wondering what exactly is inspiring you and what your finished product will be. “Ah how interesting dove, you comparing me to an angel?”

“Angel wings are white, I said your wings would be red.”

“Why red?”

You shrug your shoulders as you brush some blue onto the violet on the top of the canvas, blending the blue and violet together. “I don’t know, just suits you a lot... I wore wings last year, I was an angel last year for Halloween.”

“You dressed like an angel last year for Halloween, you certainly didn’t act like one.”

Suddenly the memory of last year’s Halloween comes rushing to the front of your memory and you begin to giggle, needing to set your brush down and have your little giggle fit; he was very right, drunk shenanigans in your angelic costume while holding White Russians with your friends surfacing to your mind. You don’t know why you’re so amused but you are, leaning back against the couch and curling yourself into a ball. You pull the blanket over your shoulders, pulling the bottom corners into your lap and you look down in awe. You swear that even though you’re sitting still, the blanket looks like it’s pulsing as well and you can see the small fibers of it sticking out from the surface. You can’t help but pick at one and hold it in between your fingertips, staring for a few seconds before releasing it.

Moving to lie on your side, you press your cheek into the couch cushion and stare at the painting you just started. It looks weird right now, purple on top with yellow and red in the middle but you’re determined that you’re going to paint that sunset!

You look over towards Keigo, seeing that he started off his canvas a golden yellow at first and is brushing a crimson red on top of it as well. It sort of reminds you of fire and you wonder what he’s seeing. You pull the blanket over your head, sheltering you from the bright lights of the room and you stare at your own hands right in front of your face. Every line and wrinkle is moving, like they’re switching places on you and you ‘ooh’ quietly. When you shut your eyes, it’s not a straight darkness you see like when you close your eyes and go to bed. You see swirls of purples and greens forming spirals that you’ve never thought of before, dancing like glitter being blown in the wind and then suddenly you see white. You’re thinking in tones of purples and pinks, they pulse and shine against a wall of white and now you’re thinking of Valentine’s day.

The blanket is pulled from over your head and you look up into golden honey eyes, they look even brighter and you swear that they glow as you look up into them. “You having fun under there babe?” Keigo asks you, clearly amused to have looked back and saw you as just a lump under his blanket. “Yeah, looks like you’re having fun.”

“Hehehe... yeah.” you smile up at him, pushing some of your hair back from your face. You look as he presents a single red grape to you, drops of water still on it to let you know that it had just been washed and while grapes weren’t your favorite fruit to eat, somehow they looked so appetizing in that moment. You open your mouth and Keigo places the fruit into your mouth, chomping down and it’s so juicy and firm and crunches so loud in your head that you moan as you chew.

Delicious, it’s delicious!

Keigo feeds you grapes every so often, whether you’re sitting in front of your canvas to continue painting, looking at the television and the visuals presented along with the music, get up to look at his other paintings that you think are whispering or waving to you, or when you decide to just stare at the tapestry he hung up in front of his balcony. You understand why tie dye is so appealing to look at now, you know for sure it’s not the wind making the tapestry move, the colors waving at you and you try to reach into the tapestry, your fingertips just barely grasping the colors in front of you.

“How long has it been Keigo?” you ask as you continue to look at the tapestry.

“It’s almost eleven, so it’s been three hours since we took it.”

Wow, three hours...

You’re not sure how the passage of time is feeling for you, everything is looking warped and you suppose that your sense of time is included in that as well.

You feel hands under your armpits and your lifted up to your feet, leaning back and touching the arms that hold you securely. The tattooed wings on Keigo’s forearm, the feathers look as if they’re rustled, they look like they need to be preened. It’s important for birds to preen their feathers so that their wings look presentable. “Okay dove, time for a bathroom break. Think you’ll need my help?”

No, you’re a big girl, of course you can go to the bathroom yourself.

Though you do have to ask Keigo to hold your hand, looking down at the floor and not trusting your own feet. It’s like you’re looking through a fish eye lens, like the floor seems so much wider and closer to you. Keigo says something to you when he drops you off at the bathroom but you don’t hear him, humming absently and you close the door. You do your business and wash your hands, using the nearby hand towel to dry off your hands and then you look up at the mirror.

You lean forward and inspect your pupils, they’re blown up and you think you can see shifting colors in your iris. You really are on, pulling back and inspecting your reflection. Now you feel like you’re caught, not sure if you recognize the person who’s looking back at you and... and... is the shower curtain moving towards you? Is that really you in the mirror? Your hair is never this mussed up and the color of your shirt you always liked before but why did it look so weird on you now?

“Dove, I’m coming in.” Keigo announces and slowly pushes open the door so that he doesn’t catch you in any indecent state. But he sees you just staring intently at your reflection and just comes up behind you, pressing his front to your back and tilting your head back to look at him. “Ah got caught looking at yourself in the mirror huh? S’alright, the first time I did acid apparently I spent a half hour just looking at my own reflection too.”

His eyes are the color of honey and you think you can suddenly taste it in your mouth, you imagine it. “Your eyes are pretty.”

“You’re pretty.”

But you shake your head at the compliment and ask, “Did I always look so weird Keigo?” you ask him, reaching one hand up and brushing the tips of your fingers along his stubble.

“No you never look weird, you’re always so cute.” he reassures you, pressing a kiss to the tip of your nose. “Go back to the living room, lemme have my bathroom break and I’ll join you in a hot minute.”

“Don’t fall in the mirror.” you say absently as you walk out the bathroom and shut the door. You hold onto anything you can to help balance you, the floorboards beneath your feet look as if they’re trying to trip you up but you manage on your own to make your way back to your spot on the couch, staring at your unfinished painting.

What... what was I making again?

Violet, blue, red, yellow... oh yeah, the sunset.

Keigo really was right when he said that trip would decide what you would paint.

You don’t hear the bathroom door open but you look up as Keigo comes into your vision and ask, “How do I make clouds?”

“How do you mean? Like how clouds are made in the sky? Well you see clouds are made of water droplets that are so small that they’re able to stay in the air. You see the water vapor-” Keigo starts on what you know is a very educational lecture on clouds but you stop him with a whine, pointing to your canvas. “Oh... oh! You want to know how to paint clouds. Haha, sorry dove!”

Keigo makes himself comfortable right behind you, your bodies once again pressed to one another as he hands you the palette of paint and picks up a different paint brush has you hold it in your own hand but he covers it with his own; you’ll hold the brush while he controls your movements. So he dips the paint brush in the white paint, also adding in a touch of red that almost makes it pink and you gasp. It’s not gonna go together! you think but Keigo hushes you, tells you to just trust him. And although you’re watching how he dabs the paintbrush onto your canvas, you’re not really perceiving the process. One minute it’s a messy slate of purple, yellow and red and then boom suddenly there are clouds that actually create a picture. “Ah you were trying to make a sunset, I can see why you wanted to paint clouds. Very creative, I’m proud of you!”

“I did that?”

“You did!”

He praises you as if you were a child doing it for the first time... though you actually are painting for the first time and honestly it actually is coming out pretty nice, though it’s only thanks to the help of Keigo. So you look back at him, pressing your lips against briefly and whisper out, “Thank you.”

Returning back to his canvas, you decide that you can continue painting on your own. You close your eyes and try to remember any memory that contains a sunset, whether it was through your own eyes or perhaps looking at images on the internet. You try your hardest, your mind producing more interesting shapes and patterns of colors that almost distract you but you’re going to pain that sunset damn it! So you blend the colors on the canvas, adding in more tones of violet and purple towards the bottom to cover up the blank spots. You thought about adding in a mountain or some trees but you feel that’s much too advanced for you to attempt, though you know that you can ask Keigo again but he already helped you once. Now you were determined to do another by yourself.

You ask if you can have another canvas and Keigo gets up to the little pile of untouched ones. When he hands you one and ask if it’s a good size, it’s a question you can really answer because the way he holds it out to you makes it seem to long. And realizing that your perception is altering the way you look at the canvas, he holds it upright for you and you ask for something a little bigger.

Carefully setting aside the sunset painting... whoa it’s like the clouds are really moving!

Focus.

You set up the new blank canvas in front of you, wondering what to make next.

“Ah I almost forgot, I got this for you too while I was at the craft store.” Keigo tells you as he brings up the box paints, holding out a tube of-

“Ooooh... glitter.” you awe at the opalescent colors, holding it against the light to see sheens of white and pink and purple. You’re not sure if it’s the acid or not but it looks extra pretty and you shake the little tube in your hand.

“Have fun with it just uh... make sure to not get too messy.”

You could imagine such pretty colors like the stars and them falling into your eyes... oh, you could make a starry night for your next painting. So you enthusiastically brush more violet and blue onto the new canvas along with a touch of black to make a dark sky. The canvas breathes at you and you think that the more color you add to it, you think you can hear it sigh in relief. You blend it all together and wonder what else you could add to it. You drift to the palette and zero in on the white paint, exchanging your current paint brush for a smaller one, dipping it into the white paint and just making little dots here and there to represent the stars. Then you open the tube of fine glitter and you’re particularly giddy; your painting is going to be amazing, it’s going to look exactly like the night sky... no even better! It’ll be like the cosmos!

You must have been a little overzealous with the glitter on your painting because Keigo nudges a towel just right underneath your easel and you feel him pat down your feet.

Careful with the edges of the painting since it’s still wet, you gently shake off any of the excess glitter and then lean back to really inspect it. In the moment it really looks like a beautiful starry sky and you think that you can literally see shooting stars in it, so sparkly and pretty in the moment. You pull the blanket back over your body and crawl your way to Keigo’s side of the couch, sitting behind him and perching your chin atop his shoulder. Weird, you could have sworn that when he first started painting he started off with yellow and red, he’s painting over it with blue and green now. “Keigo, what are you painting?”

“I don’t know. I started off thinking about fire at first and then all of a sudden I just started putting green and blue together... I think I might have been either thinking about the ocean or the forest... I forget.” Keigo explains, still not stopping his paint brush over the surface. You guess that even artists start off sometimes nonsensical too and that they don’t always have a clear idea how their end product might come out. But you still admire it anyway, reaching your hand out and loosely holding onto his wrist. His arms look even longer from where you’re looking and yet he’s sitting so close to his painting at the same time.

Perception sure is a strange thing when you’re on.

He smells nice, pressing your nose into his neck and breathing in his cologne, humming in delight and pressing yourself even closer to him.

Now you’re not exactly the bold type, every once in a while you’ve decided to make the first move but most of the time you let others give you the signal first before you flirt back. Already you and Keigo have been seeing each other for a few weeks, a few dates here and there but you’ve yet to progress anything spicier than a few make outs and maybe some teasing touches. So it comes as a surprise to him when you drag a hand down from his chest and let it rest in between his spread legs, groaning when you lick the shell of his ear and nibble on it. “B-Babe... we’re supposed to be... to be...”

“Painting? That canvas isn’t the only thing you can paint Keigo.” you whisper in his ear, feeling for his cock in his gray sweats and pleased that you can feel that he’s getting hard. You form your hand over his cock and stroke it through the sweats while your other hand drags over his arm, still stretched out towards the painting but now his arm is tense. “For example... you can paint me with your cum. Inside or out, I’ll let the artist decide.”

Keigo sets down his paint brush and his palette before tugging you to his bed.

It’s dark in his room when he shuts the door but you’re quickly put on the surface of his bed. You can hear him fiddling around somewhere in the corner of the room and then red light fills the room, it’s pretty basic of him to own those strip lights seeing as you’ve had more than a few friends decorate their room with it too but now isn’t the time to critique the mood lighting. You do have to wonder why the color red, why not just put on the regular ceiling lights?

He’s on you once the lights are on, pulling off your pajama bottoms and setting them to the side for the time being. Spreading your legs open, Keigo starts off with kissing the inside of your thighs and slowly goes up higher. Your panties are still on but you moan softly when he kisses your pussy through the cotton, then it’s up to your belly button, pushing your sweater up along with the soft bra you decided to wear tonight as stops to pay attention to your breasts, nipples perked up to the cold air along with the way Keigo flicks his tongue over them. While he sucks hickies onto your breasts, you run your hand through his hair and look up at the ceiling, you think you can hear the flap of a bird’s wings and think something flutters from the corner of your eye. “K-Keigo... is it okay for us to do this while we’re on?”

“You’re safe babe, I’m here.” he assures you as he helps tug off your sweater over your head. “Just focus on me, I’ve done this before.”

Oh great, he didn’t just allude that he’s fucked other people on acid before did he?

Keigo seems to catch his choice of words and grinds his clothed cock against your panties and gives you an apologetic smile. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. I just mean that sometimes sex on acid can be a precarious thing to engage in, I just wanna let you know that I got you.” he presses the pad of his thumb where he guesses your clit is. “You trust me yeah?”

Yeah, I do.

“How about a little art lesson for ya? That’ll help get you in the mood and you’ll learn something interesting.” Keigo takes off his sweats and his underwear, leaving you the only one who’s almost naked in the room. The music still plays from the living room, smooth guitar and easy beats still reach your ears. “You wanna know why I made the lights red? Red provokes the strongest emotion and is considered the warmest and most contradictory of the colors. Can you tell me some things you think of when you think of the color red?”

Apples, firetrucks, blood.

“Red is one of the most visible colors in the spectrum, its the kind of color that’s an attention grabber which is why it’s used to warn people of danger. Red can convey a sense of danger,” Keigo explains this while he pets you through your panties, it’s almost leisurely the way he does it but he can see how you quiver underneath his touch. “but it’s also associated with excitement, that even sometimes just being exposed to the color can cause elevated blood pressure and heart rate.”

Your heart rate is certainly up right now and it’s not just because of the acid.

You feel Keigo pull your panties to the side and easily glide a finger in but he wants something in return as well, “Spit in your hand and stroke my cock.”

As you stroke Keigo and he gently fingers you, he continues on about his lesson on the color red. “So along with danger, excitement, there’s also aggression and dominance. There’s not exactly a clear reason why red is associated with dominance, maybe it just goes hand in hand with feeling aggressive, perhaps also representing power as well.”

“K-Kei... please get to the point!” you whine, sitting up with one hand braced on the bed while the other continues to stroke him. He’s added another finger and you notice that he’s put a little bit more vigor in his actions. “Please won’t you just-”

“Most of all though, my little bird,” Keigo continues over you but you can take a guess where this ‘art lesson’ is going by the way his lips quirk up and how is voice drops. “red is also linked to passion, love, and desire, that it’s apparently a very attractive color. You remember what color you wore the first time we met?”

“You... you saying that you only liked me ‘cause I was wearing red?” you ask, a breathy laugh leaving your lips but then whine as Keigo strokes your g-spot and you almost dropped back onto the bed but he’s quick to catch you. He quickly pulls his fingers out of you and winds it around your waist to pull you flush against him and settles you in his lap, your hand trapped between your bodies but you continue to jerk his cock despite the limited space.

Keigo chuckles along with you, leaning down to press a kiss to your neck and give you a gentle bite. “Aha I’m just teasing you dove, it was your cute face I saw first and besides, you weren’t wearing a red shirt when we first met... You were wearing red panties, I remember seeing them when you bent over in that short little black dress.”

“You’re embarrassing.” you mumble, adjusting yourself so that you hover over his cock, slapping the head of it against your clit. “And that wasn’t an art lesson, that was more like color psychology.”

“You still learned something, did you not?”

You cup Keigo’s cheeks in your hands, kissing him briefly and pull back to tell him, “I’m not looking to learn anything except how your cock feels inside me.”

So you brace your arms around Keigo’s shoulders, sighing as he eases himself into you slowly. His hands hold your ass, gently lifting you off his cock and then easing you down again to take him further, repeating the process until his girth was sheathed all the way inside you. You gasp together, you at his size and him at your tightness, hands all over each other and you’re wondering where his body begins and yours ends. Whatever other cocks you had inside you before, they’ve never felt like this when they first entered you.

And then the two of you are moving in sync with one another, holding each other’s gaze, just barely able to see the reflection of each other in your blown out pupils. You can’t really see the honey gold of his eyes thanks to the lights but you you think you can taste it still, every time you just taste that sweet nectar when you look into Keigo’s eyes. It must mean how sweet he is, that must be why his eyes are colored like that.

He’s sweet like honey.

Again, you hear the flap of a bird’s wings even though you know the bedroom window isn’t open.

It’s slow and sensual at first, sex on acid is something more heightened, something indescribable behind the sensations as you lean back slightly to roll your hips while you meet Keigo’s thrusts. Your hands locked behind his neck and your head lolling back, a sensual sigh from you when you feel a hand go to your throat. A breathy ‘yes’ spills from your lips as the pads of the fingers carefully press at the sides of your neck; feels good, feels so good...

Suddenly you’re pushed onto your back, gasping in surprise at first and then uninhibited moans as he viciously fucks you. And what can you do but take it, take all of it, peering at him through the haze of pleasure and the peak of your high when you see it.

Bright red wings spreading from Keigo’s back, brighter than the lights, the feathers ruffle and seem to groan alongside him, he’s losing himself in this carnal moment, bracing himself over you and the wings coming forward as well. You feel floaty, almost as if the wings are carrying you themselves, you think you can feel feathers tickle your skin while Keigo’s hands have your hands pinned above your head, your ankles locking just right above his buttocks.

It feels like the sex is lasting forever, that as fast and hard Keigo pumps into you it feels never ending. In truth you don’t know how much time has actually passed, just that the passage of time seems longer. But it feels good, you feel one with Keigo and even just the slightest clench of your fingers intertwined with his feels even more intimate. His panting, your whimpers, the music, the lights, the flapping of the wings, and you crying out his name.

Even as you clench your eyes shut, swirling patterns of hues of red dance behind your eyelids. They seem to move in time with Keigo’s tempo, every slap of his hips connecting with your body, they respond accordingly. You feel one of his hands drawn down from your neck, past your breasts, giggling when he goes over your belly button, and groan when he plays with your clit.

He praises you, tells you how good you’re doing even though you’re just lying there and taking it, you try to participate by rolling your hips up to meet his but his power is just too overwhelming. “Kei... Kei... go, it feels so good...!”

You wriggle your other hand free from his and pull him down, practically hugging him and bringing him even closer, eyes shut hard as he goes into double time. His face is pushed into your neck, breathing hard into it and you think you can hear his wings flapping even harder. His hands hold your waist, just lifting you up slightly so that your back slightly arches.

Soft skin against rough hands.

“Where you going to paint your cum Keigo?” you ask, your lips just barely brushing against the shell of his ear. “All over my face? My tits? Maybe... even turn me around and blow it all over my back?”

“Fuck! Keep talking like that! ’M gonna cum dove... I’m gon’a cum!”

You push him back just enough and once again cup his face in your hands, “Look at me when you cum.”

Jittery nods of his head, he’ll absolutely obey anything you want as long as you don’t let him leave inside of you. All over your face would be so nice, your tits even nicer, he hasn’t pulled out to cum on someone’s back in months but fuck when you mention it, it’s so fucking enticing. But nothing beats when it’s oozing out, like ice cream melting on a hot day as it drips so he has to ask you if it’s okay. “Babe... can I paint you inside babe?”

Does an artist even have to ask permission to paint their canvas?

“Yeah... paint me white inside.”

And that’s all permission he needs, a few harsh thrusts and he cums with you, his cum shooting inside you while you gush around him, almost like it’s trying to push him out. But he stays inside you, his visit isn’t over quite yet, he doesn’t want to leave, not when he feels so connected with you.

You catch your breath, blinking your bleary eyes and see all of those red feathers slowly leave Keigo’s back. You don’t know how many there are, maybe two hundred or something like that, but you watch them leave one by one, almost as if they’re each being controlled individually. You think Keigo is the one that’s dismissing the feathers and you reach out towards them; you never got the chance to touch them.

Hands sliding down his back, you express a mild disgust over how sweaty Keigo is, “Ew... take a shower.”

“Only if you come with me.” Keigo chuckles pushing himself off you but wiping at your forehead as well. Geez, you hadn’t even realized you sweated too.

So the two of you stand under the warm shower spray, he lathers his shampoo and conditioner into your hair first, washing it out for you before you return the favor for him. You note how even more intimate this is compared to the sex before, looking up into his eyes and you give each other an endearing smile. The peak has been passed and now the acid will ease off, already things look a little less distorted and the intense distortions don’t feel like they used to when you first started.

“How are my eyes dove? Getting lost in them?” Keigo chuckles but he doesn’t give you a chance to answer, choosing to kiss you instead. “Did you mind that our first time was on acid?”

“No, it was good.” you tell him as you draw a single line on his collarbone with the tip of your finger. “I can’t wait to have regular, sober sex with you.”

“Hehe, I hope it compares well to my first performance.”

“I don’t know,” you singsong to him, “maybe you set the bar too high having first time on acid.”

“Well don’t say that now.”

The two of you laugh together, he playfully pushes your head but pulls you back in for another kiss. The water runs down both of your bodies and you pull back, looking down at the ground. Keigo thinks that you’re looking down at his cock and that you might be up for another round but you look back up at him and ask, “My feet are like a million miles away... have I always been this tall?”

You dry up together and change into clean clothes, returning to the easels and you’re surprised that the television still is playing music from the playlist. After so long without having your phone, you check the time to see that it’s well into two in the morning and it’s no wonder that you feel tired, not just from the sex but how late it was as well.

You curl up onto the couch while Keigo still works on his painting, the last thing you see were your sunset painting alongside the starry night one, the clouds shifting on one and the other still sparkles with shooting stars.

━━━━✧

“Ugh, I told you that they’d look like shit when the trip is over.”

“Don’t say that, they look fantastic.”

You hold up both of their canvases and each hand, looking deadpan at him with tired eyes. “This one looks like I just puked glitter on it and the only part of this one that is good are the clouds that you helped me paint!” you sigh out and look down at each of the paintings. You knew it, you weren’t an artist after all and you had thought that you did such a good job last night.

Keigo takes your starry night painting and brings it over to the sink, banging the edge of it gently a few times to shake off any glitter that didn’t dry on the paint before handing it back to you. “See, now it looks a little less like glitter puke and I have to tell you this dove, but you painted those clouds yourself.”

Huffing at him, you set down the starry night painting and look down at your sunset painting. “Keigo, I know I was on last night but you for sure helped me paint the clouds. I remember that part pretty clearly, don’t try to treat me like I’m a kid and say some bullshit to make me feel better.”

“I helped you get started but I saw that you picked it up on your own and you painted the rest of it yourself, I swear.”

“Keigo-”

He stops you with a soft call of your name and even though the two of you are tired as hell and feel disassociated from your own bodies and personalities, something tugs in your heart that way he says your name. “I’m serious, I helped you start making the clouds but you actually got the hang of it and watched you do it yourself. I told you the trip would tell you what to paint and you did it!”

You still look disbelieving at him, swearing that you thought you felt his hand help you paint last night. But then again, you also thought you saw one of his paintings of a balloon flying away too so maybe he might be telling the truth. It’s a little hard to discern what were your actions that actually happened versus what was in your mind. Much like the wings you thought he sprouted when the two of you had sex.

“Can you just show me yours? I fell asleep before I could see what you made.” He hands you his own canvas and you stare hard at it, looking back and forth between him and the painting in your hands. “Did you make another one last night?”

“Nope, I used that one canvas the entire night.”

“Didn’t you start off painting it with yellow and red? How did you end up with,” you turn the painting around to show him, “painting this?”

Delicate pinks and purples dotted just right to look like wisteria flowers and a big tree trunk in the very center of it. It just wasn’t fair that he was so good at conceptualizing these kinds of things. You have to wonder if he just had a natural talent for it or if it was something he honed over time. Either way, you know he didn’t get that art degree for nothing.

Keigo chuckles and sets aside his painting. “I looked at your sweater last night and thought I saw wisteria flowers sprouting out, I got my inspiration from you. Also you seemed really into the color purple last night so that helped too. Although you did also give me an idea last night too.” he takes your hand in his, pulling you close to him and reaches one hand underneath your shirt, his palm resting on the small of your back. “That whole ‘paint me thing’ you said yesterday... I was wondering if one day you’d let me paint on you?”

You tilt your head to the side, “What do you mean?”

“Like... just let me paint on your body one day. I can get those body friendly paints and just make a picture on you.” Keigo explains with a sheepish smile coming onto his face despite how tired he looks. “It kinda turned on me on last night when you said you wanted me to paint you inside and I just thought ‘well what if I actually did?’ But not with my cum I mean, though I wouldn’t mind that either.“

The thought of laying down for Keigo while he does such a thing, it sounds quite intimate. You look into his eyes, his pupils still a little wide but it’s only a few more hours for the acid to exit your bodies. It was intense last night but you were glad to have done it with Keigo and even though you think the art you did last night is sort of crap now, you can’t deny that it was sort of fun to do it still.

Your paintings lay to the side, his own stupidly good wisteria painting sitting alongside your glittered starry night and sunset painting. Strange how your eyes perceived everything last night from elongated lengths, the dynamically changing colors you saw when you shut your eyes, you felt everything alive around rather than thinking of the furniture as mere static objects, the red wings and feather you swore you felt against your skin when Keigo fucked his cock into you, everything was beautiful and you couldn’t have asked for a better first time.

You’d like to do it again.

“Can I dove? Can I paint on you one day?”

“... Yeah, I’d like that.”

#takami keigo x reader #takami x reader #hawks x reader #bnha x reader #hawks smut #tw drugs

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cryptiql · 3 years

Text

untitled god song

pairing: bakugou/m!reader (trans reader in mind you can see it if you squint but can also be read as cis)

words: 2k

warnings: themes of religious trauma, homophobia, mentions of blood, the author projecting their mommy issues

a/n: this is purely self indulgent, don't mind me 😩✋ (written in first person)

i wish i had known him before the pain started. perhaps it is a fools dream to think that his presence would have solved anything, and it is likely that he might blown me sky high at the time, if given the chance, but i often ponder his place in my narrative. he is nothing less than a king—nay, a god—and what else am i to be except his humble servant, adoring him in the only way i've been taught?

i would bruise my knees as i kneel for him, and should he turn me away, i shall be lost and without purpose. but he does not, and instead, he snorts out a laugh and pulls me to my feet, roughly squeezing my cheeks together with a shit-eating grin. he'll tell me a joke i've heard a thousand times, and yet i laugh with him anyways, the pads of my fingers idly tapping the pulse on his wrists.

"dumbass, at least take me out to dinner first."

i never thought i'd ache to hear such a demeaning nickname, but it's like birdsong to my ears, and i long for the myriad of butterflies it provokes.

i would heed his every word like a faithful disciple, and—if i knew he would not use this power for the wrong reasons—carry it out without question. he'll roll his eyes at the notion, far too prideful at the idea of being praised, and card hands through my hair, gripping softly. "right. and if i told you to go to bed before five in the morning, would you listen?"

my smiles are genuine, as they all are with him.

"no." i wish my mother had been more open-minded; more loving to those she claimed were goners. maybe then, i could still call her my mother, and not a snarled version of her first name steeped in vinegar. maybe she could have met him, and maybe she would have keeled over in the process, but that is how we put it "killing two birds with one stone".

he was a fallen angel if ever i saw one—emblazoned in smog and ravenous inferno, the pieces of child-like innocence turning to ash. something happened to him when he was a kid, just as all gifted children, and oh, what a fool i was to let my gaze dawdle on his gorgeous form. but i will never regret it—no, not ever—for there is no such feeling that can compare to his eyes on mine, burning with a mind-fogging intensity.

it was instantaneous, the moment my thoughts turned on me with malicious intent, her voice ringing out like a gunshot.

you'll never be him.

his hand slots with mine perfectly; deliciously warm and comforting in a way i haven't felt in years; and hauls me up, the flecks of dirt and rubble from the road clinging to my jeans.

"watch it, pretty boy. i won't always be here to save you, y'know."

my heart batters against my ribs like a caged bird, screeching and wailing to be set free, and i wonder in a haze if i've died. judgement day must have come early, i think, not realizing that it was spoken aloud until the blonde quirks a brow inquisitively. he does not speak on the matter, but continues on his merry way, leaving my helpless; hopelessly enamored; and praying that we will meet again.

no, i could never be him. but i am like him. he has a sureness in his walk and fervor in the way he talks that is only recognizable when i look in the mirror. and we do meet again. it is a shame, however, that i must burden him with the weight of my past. i remember too often the troubles of my youth, even when all has passed into fleeting memories that haunt me as ghosts do to an abandoned house. yet, i still live in this house, and the ghosts are here to keep me company.

i remember the church, first and foremost; nestled between the barren country road and the outback; a beacon of hope to all those who stood in its doors. the luster of freshly polished wood still sits in my mind, accompanied by the echoing remnants of dulcet tones and multicolored bands of light, glaring from the stained glass windows and dancing across the musty carpet floor. the doddering pews were just as uncomfortable as the poorly padded chairs squatting in the front row, but every sunday, they were filled to the brim with hungry worshippers. they sang praise as though they were starved, but i was too young to understand for what. i am older now, and i still don't understand. all i know is that despite its reputation, the church was a cursed place, and i should never set foot in it again lest i go mad. i remember the creaking stairs which lead downstairs, and the winding halls that reeked of torment where shadows loomed. the paint was corroding and foul, and my conscious always loitered too long on the merlot stain on the ceiling; its origin unknown, but nevertheless urging my stomach to twist with nausea.

i remember the feeling of tall grass grazing my ankles; itching horribly from the old moth-eaten socks i was forced to wear. it had become second nature—running and hiding from my problems, from the church, from her. i shall never know a greater animosity than the likes that my mother encouraged, although unintentionally, with her pressuring views and sickeningly sweet smile. it's fake, and i would know, because ours are the same.

we are too similar, and i am sickened by the fact. will i become the wretched woman she is? will i fail to be the father i've dreamt of being? it is an easy thing to fall prey to haunting questions, and it serves as brain rot for every moment of silence that leaves me clawing at my skin, trying to reap the memory of her touch. then i began to think—about nothing and everything—and it does not stop. i will be kind; unforgivingly so, and without biased judgement; like my mother never was, and i'll make her hate me for it. i will grow in leaps and bounds, not for her sake or for god's, but for mine, as it always should have been. i will drink and curse with reckless abandon and kiss who i damn well please, because in no life does she have have the power to make me something i'm not. why should i feel sorry when the tears she wept were forged by my own blood; by the childhood memories locked away to rot in my subconscious? yes, she has suffered too, but it is through clenched teeth and raw-bitten lips that i must confess this, for her suffering was born in me and grew from a seedling into a thorned flower, nourished by her hatred and mine. she'll tell me the lie of all mothers before her: that she knows best, and i'll never know joy that is not from my savior's gracious hands.

one day, when she lies not with words but in silence, under worm-filled earth and withering pastures, i'll tell her that she was right. i'll tell her, with his hand in mine, that my savior arrived with hellfire in his eyes and fury unrelenting. his tongue holds venom that would make the devil blush, but he tastes of a sinful sweetness that i've drowned in more times than i care to count.

mother you should know, my god is like no other. he has a broad chest and muscles, i attest, that are sculpted like fine marble and smooth to the test.

my god is a man who loves other men, unashamedly; in all that is true; and kisses me like real people do. and i know it sounds silly, and a bit cliché, and he'd surely make a mockery of me if ever he heard, but i love him. i love him as passionately as you she does lord above, and it is a crime in itself how much i crave him, so yes, i will burn for this—not because my mother said so or by the ancient script that foretells it, but because i promise it. i promise to let neither hell or high water deter me from that which gives me life, and i'll do so with a ring.

"you hear that mom?" i'll whisper in the dead of night, his body flushed against mine in the most delightful way; his fingers curled into my nightshirt, pulling me closer as listless mumbles fall from his parted lips. he is dead to the world amid his dream ridden stupor, but still leans into my touch when i smooth back the wild tufts of hair to kiss his forehead.

"i'm gonna marry him." part of me wishes she didn't live on the other side of the planet, just so i could rub it in her face, but i won't give her the satisfaction of seeing me again. i won't let her think she's won, because i know, and katsuki knows, that he and i are one in the same.

i do not know who i should thank for my stubbornness, be it my mother or my father, so i will thank the pain they both caused me, for it made me stronger than they ever could. no, i did not become a better person, because the scars have yet to heal from how deep they cut, and the smell of blood still lingers, and i am angrier than i once was, but i cherish my wounds. the stench of my agony has long since been subdued, and i have learned to swallow the sickness it evokes. and yes, this anger is unhealthy and i've chosen not to purge it from my mind like the weed it is, but how lucky am i to have found one whose malice rivals my own?

the tales of his glory have littered my notebooks in smudged ink. you would hate him, is scrawled messily on the last page, but i only feel giddy with excitement. you would hate him for his spite and his unapologetic behavior, and that is why he's perfect. he's everything you hate about this world, but everything i love.

so when she gets to heaven and asks the angels "why?", they'll tell her it was him who made the devil cry. him, who held me like she should have—could have, if she hadn't terrified me—and who chased the nightmarish visions of her from my weary mind with his callous palms and soft-spoken reassurances. i wish i had known him when we were young; when things were not so simple and i needed a hand to hold; but i suppose we'll have to settle for faded photographs and stories told through the bitter aroma of alcohol. that's more than enough, i muse to myself, legs hooked over his as i rest my head on his shoulder, keening softly at the gentle scrape of his nails on my scalp. his arms wind around my waist as he mutters something along the lines of "i love you", his lips curling into a smile, illuminated by the televisions glow.

so when they ask of my religion, i will think of only him. i will recall the way he looks at me, the sound of my name on his tongue, the feeling of his lips trailing between the valley of my breast; featherlight, cautious and unfitting for a man of his nature. i've written songs of praise, all dedicated to him, and if only he knew, oh how smug he would be. but i love him, i love him, i love him. and when he spins me around like a marionette, it is with overwhelming pride and joy that i tell him this, and with rose hued cheeks and bashful grumbles, he tells me the same. so mother, wherever you are, i hope you know i've found my god.

#💥.katsuki #bakugou x trans reader #bakugou x trans male reader #bakugou x male reader #katsuki bakugou x male reader #male reader insert #mha x male reader #boku no hero x reader #bakugou x you #trans reader

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adam-banks2024 · 3 years

Text

Bliss

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Adam steals you during a long study session to go play some hockey like the good old days.

The scent of parchment paper filled the Great Hall, along with that of fresh ink. You could see it shine on the paper if you were seated directly in front of a tall window. The most light comes through during sunrise and sunset, but at the time I’m studying, I wasn’t there during those hours.

It was almost noon on a Saturday, but here I am, studying. These tables were a place I usually enjoyed, mostly because of the large quantities of food, but it soon had become the place that gave me migraines and a strong urge to doze off every now and then.

Ever since I started my sixth year, the advanced potions class had turned into a monstrosity that I wasn’t sure I could handle. At first, it started with a few trips to the hall every month. Then it turned into weeks...and now I’m studying during most of my free time.

I can’t understand why I’m struggling with this class in particular. In all of my other classes, I’m performing above average. Apparently, I just can’t get the hang of “the art that is potion-making.” God, if I hear one more uninspiring word from Snape I might jump from the Ravenclaw tower.

At this point I had been studying for at least four hours now, and I hadn’t even eaten anything that would resemble breakfast. Unless two stale crackers count. The best part about the whole situation is that I had only managed to memorize the ingredients of one potion in my whole time studying. One. So, still, I must persist. Because I do not want to spend a study hall with Snape. I let my grade fall once and suddenly I found out how awkward and unsettling an hour with the professor was. It’s not like he would even help me. He just told me to read from the book and stared at me the whole time. As much as I hate to admit it, having no time to relax was better than spending any extra time with Snape than I had to

As I reached across the table for more ink, a separate hand was already there.

“Hey.”

A long, dark robe hung from his shoulders, and a green and grey scarf was loosely wrapped around his neck. His cheeks and nose had a blush, while the rest of his face appeared icy. He carried a bag with him that had unorganized papers going every which way.

“Oh hey, Adam. How’ve you been?”

Adam passed the vial to me and I dipped my quill. He put his belongings on the table and sat on the bench.

“Pretty good. You?” He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the mess.

“Eh. I’ve been better.” My voice was laced with tiredness and a pang of hunger. Nothing that would have been noticed, though.

He paused for a moment and then spoke again. “What’s wrong, Snape got you down because he couldn’t meet for a study session?”

I snorted. Me missing Snape? Yeah, sure, in his dreams. It took me a few seconds to compose myself before I responded. “No. Quite the opposite actually.” Adam hummed in response and gave a small laugh.

Once the noise subsided there was an awkward pause. I was waiting for him to respond, and I honestly didn’t know what to say. I hadn’t had a decent conversation with the kid since the beginning of fifth year. Now we’re almost done with our sixth. I decided that maybe if I returned to my studies, he’d take that as an opportunity to drop the conversation.

I hadn’t even gotten the chance to open my book before he cleared his throat. “Gosh, I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” He leaned his arm against the table and rested his head in his palm, fingers twiddling with the feather of my quill.

I sighed, slouching in the process. “Yeah. Social interaction has been foreign to me.”

Adam moved his other arm to the table, resting his head in both hands now. “Well I’m glad that you were just studying and not being torn apart by the whomping willow.”

“Haha, yeah. I think I would prefer the willow.” We both laughed, knowing that potions class was hell. Well, I assumed that he thought it was hell.

“Ahh, don’t say that.” It looked as though he was trying to think of what words to say. Mouth opening and closing, eyes darting everywhere. He must have pieced together what he wanted to say. “You should join me and the guys for some skating.” I shrugged my shoulders, not answering. I knew that if I entertained the idea at all then I wouldn’t be productive the rest of the day, so I decided to read over my notes to get my mind off the subject. Still, Adam persisted. “Maybe take away some of your stress?” I paused. A break sounded really nice, but could I really afford one right now, or even have enough energy?

“I don’t know, Adam. I have an exam on Tuesday.”

Adam stood up and walked around the table with a childlike bounce in his step. “C’mon, y/n, it’ll be fun. Just like old times.” Now he was sitting right beside me, his lip now forming a pout.

“Well...I guess skating for an hour or two couldn’t hurt. What time were you thinking?” He pulled me up. “Right now!”

All of my belongings were still in the hall, but I don’t think Adam had any regard for that. He seemed extremely excited that I had agreed to go skating with him. Well, and other people. Obviously. It’s not like it was just an invitation with him. They probably just needed an extra player so the teams were even. Whatever the case, I was glad to leave my studies for a few hours.

We earned glares from the portraits as we ran through the west wing haphazardly, bumping each other as we went. Giggling filled the air and it was just like it was a year ago. There was no awkwardness, no distance. It was like we had stayed in touch the whole time we were apart. I’ll have to make a mental note to not let that distance between Adam and I grow again.

“So, this is where I leave you.” I smiled at him as I turned to enter the Hufflepuff common room. “Well, for a moment. I don’t really want to get yelled at for being in another house.” Adam shifted his feet.

“Oh. lighten up, cake eater.” He didn’t say anything, just stared at me. “Okay fine. If you’re that much of a stickler to the rules, you can stay out here.” He gave a sheepish grin.

As I walked up the stairs to my dorm, I wondered how that kid was even in Slytherin. He follows the rules, he’s super kind, and he brightens the room. Then again, you find tons of kids who break their house’s stereotypes.

I ended the thought as I reached to grab a coat, scarf, and my skates. It had been at least half a year since I used them, so there was no doubt that I would be a little rusty when I got back on the ice. Once I was all bundled up, I made my way back to the hall where I found an Adam Banks standing in the same position that I had left him.

He gave a small smirk as I exited. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

He hooked his arm through my arm and started to tow me to the frozen lake that was above the Slytherin common room. A blush drew to my cheeks, but I wrote it off as the scarf I adorned. Thankfully he didn’t notice. He was so focused on getting to the makeshift rink that I don’t think anything could have phased him. Not even Dumbledore in a bright, pink dress.

The trek was long, but there wasn’t a lot of snow, so that made the trip more enjoyable. As we neared the lake, I could see the other guys in the distance. I could only make out Connie and Guy because they were holding hands, but there were four other people that I couldn’t see out on the rink.

“Who’s all gonna be there today?” I looked up at Adam. The blush on his nose was even darker now because of the cold.

“Umm, Charlie. He had the idea in the first place. Averman wanted to come too. I think Connie and Guy. And then we asked Julie and Goldberg so we had goalies.” He smiled as he spoke, his love for hockey apparent.

Adam and I had played together when we were first years, but we hadn’t really known each other then. That’s where I first learned how to even skate. While I was still getting the bearings, Adam was already an extremely skilled player. When we were closer he used to tease me about it all the time, but he eventually stopped, and then just stopped talking to me all together. Maybe that’s why I’m so excited to go skating with him. After all, there’s no better feeling than reconnecting with an old friend.

The lake was pretty bare aside from two makeshift goals on the ice, and a few benches on either side. There weren’t any blue or red lines that we would have for actual games. Just plain ice.

“And you’re sure the lake is frozen enough?” Images of me falling through into the chilly water invaded my mind.

Adam shrugged his bag from his shoulder, “I’m a hundred percent sure. And if I’m not, I personally allow you to punch me.”

I rolled my eyes as I started to sit on one of the benches, putting a skate on. “Wow. how convincing.” He didn’t respond, so I just laced up my skates. Looking at the other people skating around, I wasn’t so sure how good I was gonna be. It had been at least three years since I’d really played a game of hockey, and you could clearly tell that these people practiced consistently.

I stood up once I laced my other skate, and started to make my way to the ice. Much to my surprise, my balance wasn’t awful. I could successfully skate and stop without much effort. There were still times where I would wobble or need to regain my balance, but I should be able to hold my own.

Adam brought me a stick and nudged my shoulder. I almost tripped, but I caught myself before anything else could happen.

“You’re real funny, Banks.” I spoke through gritted teeth, still struggling to stay afoot. He offered both of his hands out to help me gain my bearings again. To my surprise, he started skating backwards, pulling me forward. I laughed, “where are we going?”

I could see Adam’s breath as he laughed with me. “To play, silly goose.” An amused expression was painted on his face while speaking, and he gave a big smile after. I started to skate with him instead of just letting him drag me along. After a moment, he just stopped. Because physics exists, I kept sliding and bumped into him. I almost fell but Adam grabbed me by the elbows before I could drop to the ice.

When he pulled me up, our faces were only an inch or two apart. The world around me seemed to fade until it was just Adam. Neither of us had said a word, we just stood there. Staring at each other. It was in that moment when I realized the blades of my skates were slipping on the ice. I didn’t really know why, because the lake was definitely frozen over, like Adam had said. It might have been because my knees had locked

Then I noticed the slight tug on my arms. I realised I was being pulled, not slipping. I was being moved at such a tiny rate that it was almost unnoticeable. Almost. As I neared Adam’s chest, I simply stopped breathing. My heartbeat sped, and I slowly started to lose my hearing. This feeling that I was only now feeling, had it been there the whole day? At the table, running through the hall, walking to the lake. Was it there the whole time? I was just to blind to have seen it. All of the time Adam and I had spent before we lost touch, was the feeling there too?

Once there was no more room between him and I, Adam started to part his lips. My stomach was instantly in knots, and my mind preparing myself for the moments that were to come. Nothing else was said, and Adam closed his eyes. With no hesitation, he closed the gap between us, and pressed his lips against mine.

There were no fireworks. No sparks, no pits in my stomach. Just pure bliss, as I kissed the boy that I met in fifth year.

#mighty ducks #the mighty ducks #adam banks #adam banks x reader #mighty ducks imagine #the mighty ducks imagine #adam banks imagine

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wreckofawriter · 4 years

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Pairing: Cedric Diggory x reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: Swearing, sexual jokes

Request: @souhmhey Hello! I really like your blaise au and was wondering if you could do a hogwarts ver of 97 with bill weasley/cedric diggory since your requests is open. The reader is a slytherin btw. Thank you and take care!

#97: You are famous and we keep bumping into eachother so the media thinks we're dating

A/n: sorry for inactivity, I have no concept of time. This is a tiny bit off the prompt but oh well. (There is so much dialogue in this fic, I'm sorry.)

You hated attention. You had hated it since the second you had been birthed into the world. The world which robbed you of your privacy. The world which had dug its grimy hands into your life and tugged and pulled until it looked pretty enough to be on display. A world which everyone claimed to wish for, to envy.

It made you sick.

You had no right to complain. You knew that you were privileged, your parents had more money than they could spend even if they tried, you had grown up in a mansion which simply could not be called a house. You had the tutors, the vacations, the clothes. You had it all, well all except privacy.

Your birth was on the front page of a dozen magazines, your face tacked onto newspapers before you could even read. You were so used to the flash of lights that you stopped registering them as strange.

When you left for some faraway school in the hills of Scottland you had assumed that all of that would go away. That you wouldn’t have to fake smiles anymore or refrain from making the smallest mistake for fear of ruining your parent’s reputation.

Your father’s status as a quidditch player kept you form that unattainable dream. Whenever he spoke of the sport he told it like some fantasy, something he had done so he could soar into the sky not bring it down onto his daughter.

You snapped your eyes shut the bright flash of light only worsening your headache. As the faint burn you were all too used to faded you gathered the image of the young boy in front of you. His mouth was dropped displaying two rows of crooked teeth, his brown eyes wide with amazement.

Your jaw tightened, “Do you need something?” the tone you used was clearly threatening, hoping to break him from the trance you had unintentionally put him under. The conformity of the boy’s features lead you to believe he was either deaf or stupid.

“Well?!” You snapped and it seemed to do the trick.

He blinked a few times, his open mouth giving way for a dopey grin, “You’re y/n y/l/n.”

You scoffed considering shoving the large camera he was holding down his throat, “I don’t know who you are talking about.”

“But-”

“Move before I move you myself.” You snarled and before the kid could answer you shoved him aside and continued for your class which you were now surly to be late for. Vector wouldn’t be happy.

You entered the room already spewing apologies you should have to give.

The teacher cut you off with a pointed look and you snapped your mouth shut. There were a couple snickers from the class and your head hammered on the front of your skull.

“You have been late almost every day this week Ms. y/l/n. Is this going to continue all year or should I cut you from my class now?” Her glare was stiff.

You tried to swallow your mouth suddenly feeling too dry, “I’m very sorry professor it’s just I have to come all the way from potions, and getting through the halls can be difficult.”

Her eyebrows raised, “I don’t see any of my other students struggling to get here on time.”

“Well, I-”

“Or do you simply believe the rules of this school don’t apply to you?” She sneered and giggles erupted around you.

Your cheeks burned and you hung your head, “That’s not what I was saying professor.” you mumbled know your words fell onto emptiness.

“Ten points from Slytherin. Go take a seat next to Diggory.”

You let your mouth fall shut nodding obediently as your blood boiled beneath your skin. Eyes followed you to your seat and didn’t leave until the lesson began. Your cheeks hurt, you pushed your hands upon them attempting to cool the burn of embarrassment. You didn’t even spare a glance to the boy seated next o you, his presence barely registering as you tried to convince the earth to swallow you whole.

You really hated attention.

Cedric Diggory didn’t quite understand why so many looked his way as he passed in the halls. He was good at making friends, his words always seemed to flow so seamlessly from his mouth, he never stumbled over syllables or tripped on his tongue. He was good with people, they liked him, he never gave them a reason to do otherwise.

Students envied him, he knew that. He wasn’t oblivious to the fact that girls and boys found him attractive, he wasn’t stupid. People often treated him like he was anyway, as if his popularity had drained his common sense. It was aggravating to try and prove that his worth went past his reputation again and again.

He always paid mind to you. He was aware of your fame, well your parent’s fame. His eyes like may others had frequently wandered towards you, he had a feeling you hated when they did. Your own were always narrowed into a glare as you did everything in your power to avoid the popularity you had been gifted.

As you sat beside him, your head buried in your hands, teacher continuing with a lesson he should be listening to he felt sorry for you. Sorry that you were so often painted as a self-entitled brat, sorry for the prying eyes and the whispers behind hands.

“I could walk you from potions if you wanted.” The words had spilled from his mouth like an overflowing sink.

Your head snapped towards him, eyes hard as steel as you bored into him. “What?”

Cedric suddenly felt like a fool, something that didn’t happen all that often. He stuttered for a sentence, “I, uhh..” What had he just said to you? It was like his thoughts had been replaced with cotton.”I have the same potions as you, and um you said that you were having a hard time getting through the halls. I could walk with you.”

“Whatever.” you ignored the part of you that thought it might be a half-decent idea and scoffed, “You would only draw more attention.”

The Hufflepuff chuckled, “I suppose you’re not wrong.”

You didn’t answer, eyes now zoned to the front of the room. He let the conversation drop.

If there was one thing that you hated more than attention it was exercise. You disliked exhausting yourself, the grime, and sweat making you feel incredibly dirty as you jogged the edge of the grounds. Your breaths were labored and you felt awkward as your thighs bummed together. Despite all of the discomfort, your head felt clear. Thoughts weren’t plagued but crisp as you listened to the chirp of birds and your own pants. Finally, you gave out, your legs groaning as you halted bending over. Lacing your hands on your knees, you tried to calm your racing heart.

“Oh, hey y/n!”

And your peace was ruined.

You stood up, stuffing your hands in your pockets and trying not to look as fatigued as you felt.

Cedric looked so good it hurt. The sweat on his brow giving him the polished look of a deity. His hair was untamed yet adorable, cheeks stained apple red from the exertion. The sun which was peeking above the horizon framed him, making the boys edge hazy and warm. He smiled down at you, his breaths steady as ever.

You cussed at him not even bothering to lower your voice. You watched his face falter with confusion. “Fuck you.” You repeated, “How do you look so good after running?”

His grin jumped back, “I just stared, I’m only two miles in.”

You were tempted to slap him, “Only.” you cursed him again for good measure.

“Are you heading back towards the school? I could go with you.”

You considered his offer for a brief moment, “Whatever you monster.”

Apparently he took that as a yes because the second you began to jog again he was beside you his pace obviously slowed to fit yours.

“I was actually happy to run into you.” He hummed.

You frowned, “Why?” it was more of a pant than a question.

He shrugged, “You seem nice.”

There were a lot of things you ‘seemed’ nice was not one of them. The side glance you gave him was question enough and you heard him chuckle a bit.

“I know you think you’re all scary and everything but you’re not that bad.”

You scowled, “You don’t. Know. Me.” heavy breaths broke what was supposed to be an intimidating sentence.

He nodded, “I think I’d like to.”

You didn’t respond and instead tried to focus back into your safe world of exhaustion and exhilaration. You managed to reach the front of the school and practically collapsed.

“Are you okay?” Cedric asked his hand landing lightly on your shoulder.

Shoving it off you nodded, “I’m going to get water before I pass out.” you heaved, “Feel free to continue your workout, Diggory.”

“Alright, I’ll see you-” the door shut in his face, “-later.”

Your exhaustion kept you from ripping off the heads a group of first-years who wanted your father’s autograph on your way to class. It faded as you made your way through transfiguration and potions. When dismissed you scrambled from the classroom at a quick pace, the last thing you wanted was to be late to Arithmancy again. Being publicly ridiculed once this week was plenty for you.

You didn’t stop as your name was called behind you, shouldering through a group of students who shot you glares. You heard it again the same voice, closer now and you picked up the pace.

Your shoulder was grabbed and you spun around with such force your bag fell from your shoulder. Quills and ink crashed to the ground and you swore loudly dropping to your knees to pick up the scattered supplies.

Cedric descended beside you helping gather your things. You snatched them from his hands before he offered and continuted down the hall without even a glance in his direction. His long strides brought him to your side.

“You don’t have to worry about being late you know.” He offered you stayed unresponsive. “You’ve still got 6 minutes till class.”

You let out a bothered sigh, “Well if I’m stopped then those minutes go fast.”

Cedric frowned, “Stopped?”

“Yep. It’s always like this at the beginning of the year. The first-years slowly find out who my parents are and want autographs or pictures as if it’s somehow my responsibility to serve them.” Your voice slowly filled with annoyance like a balloon expanding with air, “It’s irritating.”

The boy beside you furrowed his brows, “I can imagine.”

As if on queue a young girl trotted up to you stopping you in your tracks.

“You’re y/n y/l/n right?” Before you could answer she continued, “I was wondering if I could have an autograph from your mother, I saw her in a movie when I was six and I-”

“I’m really sorry but we have to get to class,” Cedric spoke, cutting off the bob child.

Her eyes widened a bit, “Oh sorry, um bye then.”

You gave a half-hearted wave before glancing at the boy beside you, “Thanks.”

He grinned, “It’s no problem.”

Neither of you noticed the eyes which followed you down the hall.

The Weasley twins had a special talent when it came to being bothersome. And they were sure to use it to their full potential, making a point to leave no one out of their troubles. You included. You didn’t know them all too well but after their offer to buy autographs from you and them sell them for a profit they had always stuck in your head.

“Ah, but if it isn’t my favorite celebrity.” Fred grinned his arm draping around your shoulder before being quickly shoved off.

“Well if it isn’t my least favorite red-head.” You respond attempting to return to the open textbook in front of you.

“It’s only natural that you like me more than him.” George grinned sitting beside you.

“Nah, you’re tied for last.” You mumbled scribbling down notes on a messy roll of parchment.

The younger twin frowned, “Are you sure I’m not beating him?”

You looked up at him amusement etched into your features, “Positive.”

Fred popped some of the jelly slugs sitting beside you into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously loud. “So you and Diggory huh?”

You stiffened, glancing up at him.

“I didn’t think he was your type.” George grinned catching one of the candies in his mouth as his twin tossed it over your head.

You scrunched your nose, “What?”

“Oh come on y/l/n, don’t be coy.”

“No reason to be shy, we all know you and the Hufflepuff prince are boning.” the younger giggled.

Your mouth went dry, “What did you just say?”

Fred hummed, “Wow you’re better at acting than I thought, I guess you take after your mother.”

“I haven’t the slightest clue what you’re talking about.” You sputtered.

“Wait really?”

You nodded.

“So you and Cedric aren’t dating?”

You scoffed, “God no, where in hell did you get that idea?”

The reflections shot glances at each other.

“The whole school thinks you are,” George stated plainly.

You slammed your textbook shut in a vicious snap, eyes from around the library drawing towards you. “That fucker.” You hissed and in a second you were on your feet.

You didn’t have to look very long to find the brunette. He was only a few corridors form the library a small group of people huddled with him.

“Diggory!” Your voice cut the pleasant atmosphere in two.

“Oh hey y/n, I was just looking fo-” Before his sentence could be finished you had snatched him by the tie and began dragging him behind you.

A series of whistles and calls followed you around the corner where you slammed open a door and shoved him into a small closet.

“Y/n whats are you doing?” He asked loosening his tie which you had unintentionally sinched around his neck.

Your hands met his shoulders pushing him back as hard as you could manage. Cedric stumbled, his back hitting the door with a thunk.

“You asshole!” You spat leaning over him, “How dare you?”

Cedric was bewildered, the anger clear on your face in the dull lighting. Your breaths were heavy, the sharp scent of mint hitting him, “I’m sorry what?”

You sneered, “Don’t you dare lie to me Diggory. I know what you did.” You had grabbed his tie again, forcing him to lower his head to meet your eyes.

“What did I do?” He asked, his cheeks feeling unbearably hot from the close proximity.

You scoffed, “I don’t know, how about telling the entire school we’re fucking dating?”

Cedric frowned, “I didn’t tell anyone we were dating.”

Now it was your turn to look baffled, “Then who did?”

Before your question could be answered you were falling forward, the door opening the two of you tumbling out into the sudden overwhelming brightness. You screwed your eyes shut in response, your ears catching the sound of laughter and whistles. You were brought your senses abruptly, the crowd gathered around you giggling behind their hands.

“Damn Cedric, I thought you were classier than a quickie in a closet.” Someone snickered.

You lept off the boy you had been straddling moments before your cheeks burning from embarrassment. Cedric sat up, his own face tinged red as he glared at the Hufflepuff which had spoken.

You shoved your way through the crowd wishing the earth would open up and let you fall into its core. Or at least those gathered around you.

“Wait y/n!”

You didn’t turn instead holding your middle finger in the air, making sure the entirety of the group could see it before you disappeared from sight. By the time Cedric was able to push his way through the crowd to where you had turned you were gone. He cussed letting his head fall into his hands.

Cedric didn’t see you the entirety of the weekend. You weren’t in the hall for meals or out in the cooling September air where many students were finding refuge. Your absence was annoying, the thoughts of your breath fanning over the bridge of his nose, chest pressed into his only worsening the harbored feelings he had buried. Rumors of your relationship continuted to circulate, the scene caused a few days before morphing into lewd stories which made his cheeks bloom with roses. He felt partially responsible for the trouble caused for you, his friends were some of the most active in the gossip.

Cedric knew it was only a matter of time before you would be forced to converse with him. You would never skip a class.

You appeared in potions Monday and managed to convince Snape to let you leave five minutes earlier than the rest of the class. There was no escaping assigned seats in Arithmancy. Or so Cedric thought. You had used your extra time to swap seats with another student now all he could do was bore holes into the back of your styled hair from four seats back. You didn’t even give him a chance during meals, eating quickly or simply never appearing, a girl you were with frequently taking a plate with her as she left instead.

It was aggravating. He knew that both of you barley qualified as acquaintances but having the small amount of progress he had made in your relationship ripped from him less than a week in was cruel.

Cedric was more persistent than you intended him to be. You didn’t quite understand why, you hardly knew each other. Yet he tried to corner you in hallways and stop you in classes. You supposed he probably felt guilty. You almost felt bad for avoiding him.

When he wasn’t present in potions you assumed him sick or skipping. So you didn’t find the need to leave early or rush from the room. You should have known it was a trick. The second you left the room you were trapped, Cedric stood directly in front of you his gaze almost daring you to run.

You sighed rolling your eyes, “Ok fine. You got me.”

“Can we talk?” He asked his hands stuffed into his robe pockets.

“Aren’t we all ready?” You challenged.

He shook his head softly, “Please?”

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You huffed.

“It will take thirty seconds.”

Your eyes narrowed, you knew it would take longer but your curiosity was killing you, what could he possibly have to say? Your money was on some useless apology.

“Fine.”

You were lead deeper into the dungeons beginning to suspect he was going to murder you where your screams couldn’t be heard until he came to a stop in some far away corridor.

You crossed your arms tapping your foot impatiently, “Well?”

Cedric felt that unfamiliar twist in his stomach as he looked down at you, his hand scratching at the back of his neck, “Well I wanted to say sorry.”

You sneered at this, “Are you serious? If this what you dragged me here for then you can just tell your friends that they are dumbasses with no life of their own so they have to stick their nose in other peoples to stay entertained and leave.”

The Hufflepuff was taken aback, “Oh no that’s not it, umm, you, I mean I have-”

“Spit it out Diggory,” you demanded.

He nodded, “Right, uh I like you y/n.”

Your eyes shot wide.

“And I was just wondering if you would let me take you out.” He finished feeling better now that the words had been spoken. The moment was ruined quickly.

“No.” Your answer was plain.

“Oh.” Cedric wasn’t sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t that.

You sighed, the boy’s face now deflated like a sad puppy. The odd feeling of guilt settled in your stomach, “It’s not because of you.” You assured him, “I mean your talented and hot and nice and everything, it’s just I don’t want to deal with all the shit.”

His cheeks flushed at the complaint but his lips twitched into a frown, “What shit?”

“Ya know.” You spoke gesturing around you, “Your friends and the rumors and everything. I’ve already got enough on my plate, I don’t need anymore.”

Cedric nodded, understanding, “Then give me a chance.”

You hummed a question.

“The astronomy tower tomorrow night, meet me there after curfew and let me prove I’m worth it,” he explained.

You blinked owlishly at him, head tilted slightly to the side, “Seriously?”

“Yeah. One date, no commitment, if you don’t like it can go back to ignoring me and no one will know.”

His offer was tempting. The way his eyes glimmered with hope only making it more enticing. So you gave in, “Alright.”

A smile stretched his lips, “Really?”

You shrugged, “Why not?”

“You won’t regret it.”

Part of you already knew that.

Taglist:

@accio-rogers

@roslea

@k3nz-doodl3

@theseuscmander

@sleepingalaska

@chloe-geoghegan1

Masterlist

#harry potter #harry potter imagines #harry potter au #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter ships #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory imagines #cedric diggory imagine #cedric diggory headcanons #cedric x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #fandom #cedric fanfiction

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