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lveclouds · 2 years

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↬ pairing: childhood best friend! hoseok x reader, other members might be mentioned, txt makes appearances <3

↬ genre/aus: fluff, slightly heavy angst, non idol au, college/university au, friends to lovers, slow burn (like slower than the sloth in zootopia slow)

↬ wc: 5.6k

↬ summary: in which you and your longtime best friend experience all of your firsts.

↬ rating(s): pg15, nc17 (see warnings)

↬ tw: heavy swearing, mentions of alcohol, light alcohol consumption, heavy angst (im sorry i couldn’t resist), happy ending, mutual pining (ah yes we love her), hoseok is an actual sweetheart but a bit oblivious, mentions of stress (bc college/uni can be a pain, briefly mentioned), mentions of heartbreak, rejection (brief)

↬ note: this drabble is loosely inspired by the song ‘best friend’ by conan gray, which is another song that i have had on repeat lately, and is part of my ongoing ‘footnote’ drabble series! i’ve had lots of fun drafting and writing these drabbles, and i hope you all are enjoying them <3 it feels really good to be putting out fics, it’s been too long :’) also, i kind of strayed a bit from the original meaning of this song bc i’m a sucker for romance ahaha :) + oh and this drabble is dedicated to the angel herself, cam (aka @sunshinejunghoseokie) bc she’s sunshine personified, just like hobi <333

hoseok had always been there, a constant and comforting presence in your life. it’d all started on a warm, sunny afternoon in april, when the weather was just right, and your mother had decided to take you to the local park for some fresh air. after she’d settled down on a park bench and had dismissed you with a gentle, loving smile, assuring you that it was alright for you to go and “be a kid”, as she’d put it.

you’d smiled with pure delight, running around and feeling the cool wind wash over you. you’d soon gotten distracted by a butterfly flitting by, its paper thin wings pure white, and it fascinated you, for how could such a plain color look so ethereal? your nine year old self was easily swayed, and the sight of the tiny butterfly was no exception.

you’d watched in awe as it flitted around with ease, occasionally pausing to land gently on a clematis, its white wings a stark contrast against its light purple petals. the butterfly was like art in motion, gliding smoothly through the air effortlesly. “it’s pretty, right?” a voice had said from beside you, and you’d yelped in shock, turning to see who’d managed to sneak up on you.

though you were much too young to know what beauty really was, the young boy who’d silently materialized beside you seemed to be the visual representation. he was about an inch taller than you, with wavy, black hair and hazel eyes, features delicate. a sheepish smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you, it’s just… you looked so peaceful and i didn’t want to bother you.”

his voice was kind and gentle, yet soft, impossibly so, as if he were afraid of scaring you. “i-it’s okay, i was just a little surprised.” the boy’s expression brightened. “i’’m glad! my name’s hoseok, by the way, what’s yours?” “y/n.” you’d replied, feeling a smile of your own tug at the corners of your lips as you held out your hand for him to shake. when his hand engulfed yours, soft and warm, you knew that this was the start of a long-lasting friendship.

it’d turned out that hoseok had newly moved to seoul from gwanju, and was now living in the house adjacent to yours. thus, every afternoon, you’d always hang out together, running around and letting out loud shrieks of joyful laughter as you played tag, giggling when you’d use chalk to draw on the sidewalk, hands covered in pink and purple and blue and yellow dust, grinning mischeviously as you purposely jumped into puddles as you played in the rain, ignoring your parents’ warnings that you’d both get sick, curled up next to each other when you’d both ran a high fever, small hands grasping each others’ tightly.

then, middle and high school drifted by, with you and hoseok both navigating the ups and downs of your teenage and adolescent years, dealing with puberty and crushes and the like. middle school was quite uneventful, as the majority of it was spent with you teasing hoseok over his voice cracks and he with your first crush, jeon jungkook, who was a transfer student from busan and had the prettiest pair of doe eyes you’d ever seen.

hoseok would relentlessly tease you about said male, laughing when you’d blush profusely anytime he’d so much as look in your direction, and that’d you should just tell him how you felt. of course, you’d refused to do such as thing, and thus spent the remainder of eighth grade pining after jungkook from afar.

then, high school came and went, and college fast approached, with you and hoseok starting to branch out and meet other people, as well as be involved in your school community, joining clubs and the like. hoseok even joined the male dance team one year, and you the art club, having had a penchant for drawing and painting as a child. it was during your junior year of college that both you and hoseok experienced your first heartbreak.

for you, your first heartbreak had come in the form of choi soobin, who was a tall and kind-hearted senior who’d caught your eye the minute you laid eyes on him during summer orientation. he’d been with his older sister and brother at the time, all of them towering over half of the people in your group, and you’d fallen instantly, admiring the sharp slope of his jaw and the curve of his soft mouth.

you’d somehow managed to muster up the courage to confess to him, stumbling and stuttering over your words, and then, a long stretch of stunned silence. after what seemed like an eternity, soobin awkwardly cleared his throat, hand rubbing the back of his neck, smiling nervously. “i’m really, really, sorry, but i’m not looking for a relationship right now. you seem like an amazing girl, though, and i’m sure any guy would be lucky to date you.”

all you could so was apologize profusely, ducking your head so soobin couldn’t see the fresh tears forming, of which he waved off with a kind and sad smile. “no, no, it’s okay, no need to apologize, i’m sure it took a lot of courage for you to be so honest with me. i hope we can still be good friends, though. that is, if you’re willing.” despite yourself, you’d nodded, giving him a watery smile, and gotten his phone number before giving him a small wave as he turned and left.

though soobin had been an absolute sweetheart about the whole situation, even going as far as wanting to be friends with you, it’d still hadn’t taken away the sting of the rejection. you’d ran to the school’s dance studio after, tears in your eyes, and one of hoseok’s teammates, lisa, had immediately ran and gotten hoseok, who’d been getting ready for rehearsal in the boys’ locker room.

you didn’t even have to say anything before hoseok pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in a warm embrace, rubbing comforting circles on your back. you’d immediately started sobbing into his shoulder, blabbering about how guilty you felt for interrupting his practice, and hoseok, ever the evangelist, had said, “y/n, don’t be ridiculous. some stupid dance practice can wait, but comforting my best friend can’t. now hush and cry your heart out, love, it’s okay.”

and so, you did exactly that, sobbing profusely into the crook of hoseok’s shoulder, which was warm and solid and familiar, and comforting. he’d spent the next few weeks watching all your favorite movies without complaint, making sure to bring over your favorite snacks and alcohol, letting you use his lap as a pillow, carding gentle fingers through your hair.

this was familiar to you, as you and hoseok had done the same as kids, curled up next to each other on your living room couch, eyes glued to the tv, watching an animated movie or show, enjoying each other’s presence and company. you were grateful that hoseok was so comfortable with you that seemingly intimate moments like this just felt natural, casual, even.

then, you’d finally gotten over the stinging (yet polite) rejection from soobin, hoseok had just experienced his first heartbreak. he’d had a little crush on one of his dance teammates, jisoo, who was slim and gorgeous and kind, and told you over lunch one day that he was going to finally confess.

you’d immediately encouraged him to go for it, and that you’d be waiting to hear all the details later. as soon as hoseok had gone to his next class that same day, you immediately texted soobin, who’d you surprisingly gotten closer too, ever since the initial rejection.

he had become someone that you could confide in and text at random intervals throughout the day. you message threads consisted of memes, cute pictures of puppies and his pet hedgehog, odi, who was actually very adorable, despite soobin’s insistence that he could be quite the brat at times, and so on. and, on occasion, “intel” on fellow students. thus, what’d led you to texting him abruptly one afternoon, momentarily distracting yourself from writing an important paper.

do you know anything about a girl named jisoo?

jisoo? ah, isn’t she on the dance team with hoseok hyung?

yeah, that’s her. do you know anything about her?

not much. i just know that she’s a transfer student, she arrived here sometime last year or so

well, do you know anyone who knows anything about her?

i might. why? what’s with the sudden curiosity?

ah, well, it’s really not my place to tell.

this information isn’t going to be freely given, i’m afraid <3

you rolled your eyes. soobin was always one for dramatics, it seemed. you sighed, before writing, you’re a pain in the ass, you know that? fine. hoseok’s planning on confessing to her sometime after their dance team’s practice tonight. happy? and if you breathe a word about this to anyone i will kill you.

i’m very happy, thank you very much. and, yes, i’m very much aware. my roommate, taehyun, tells me that all the time actually :) AND OMG WHAT??? ARE YOU FR??

you snorted and wrote, yes. insantly, soobin began typing in reply. the bubble started and paused, and then, finally, the message came. finally, some interesting shit is happening for once at this hellhole of a school. i’ll text you all the info later <333

you huffed a laugh at soobin’s dramatics, setting your phone aside and trying to focus on the paper you’d been trying to write for the past hour, the soft blue glow from your laptop illuminating your features. this essay is going to give me a headache, i just know it.

true to his word, soobin had texted you an hour later, with the information he’d gathered about jisoo, courtesy of his best friend, choi yeonjun, who happened to be on the same dance team as both hoseok and aforementioned female. apparently, jisoo was a film major, and had joined the dance team about a year after she’d transferred to seoul.

and, according to yeonjun, jisoo wasn’t really one for relationships, and had no known romantic partners, nor crushes. when you’d learned this small piece of information, your heart had sunk immediately, stomach curling with dread. hoseok’s going to be devastated.

a few hours later, just as you’d feared, a text from hoseok came. meet me at the gazebo near the fountain. please, was all it said, and you immediately knew something was wrong. the aforementioned gazebo, which was located on the east side of campus, was where hoseok often went when he was feeling down or just needed to clear his head.

you’d immediately shrugged on a light hoodie and slipping on a worn pair of sneakers, slipping quietly out your door, not wanting to disturb your roommate, who’d fallen asleep hours ago, exhausted from her long day of classes, locking it carefully behind you.

when you’d finally reached the gazebo, your heart immediately broke at the sight before you. hoseok was sitting on the bench, hugging his knees to his chest, body shaking with quiet sobs, and you’d rushed over, not bothering with words as you’d gathered your best friend into your arms, hugging him tightly and rubbing comforting circles on his back.

just as hoseok had done for you, you spent the following weeks watching all his favorite films, bringing him his favorite drinks and alcoholic beverages, letting him use your shoulder as a pillow, carding gentle fingers through his soft hair.

it’d felt like old times, when you’d comfort each other during a sad film or after getting scolded by your parents for misbehaving. little words were spoken, for you and hoseok always understood each other, and always knew what the other needed, and thus words were not needed.

a few months later, when hoseok was seemingly over jisoo’s rejection, he’d started seeing aureum, an arts major, who had a lovely, friendly face and dark, wavy hair that fell just above her shoulders. you’d had the pleasure of meeting her one day, when hosoek had finally decided to introduce you after they’d been going out for weeks. you’d been a bit apprehensive, but had agreed to have lunch with her and hoseok, to see if this girl was really as lovely as your best friend had described her to be.

to your relief, aureum seemed to genuinely like hoseok, and was sweet and unfailingly polite and forthcoming. she also had a passion for dancing, just as he did, and had even decided to join the dance team he was on. and, she was as lovely as hoseok had made her out to be, and you’d immediately taken a liking to her, especially after expressing that one of her favorite films was howls moving castle.

their relationship had started out smoothly at first, and your heart was warm and delighted at seeing hoseok so happy. aureum seemed to adore your best friend, for there was no mistaking the fond smiles and looks of pure, unadulterated adoration she’d send him. they were quite adorable together, you’d admit, always going out on cute picnic dates, walking to class together, and even dancing together.

then, you’d started to see less and less of hoseok, who’d spend more time with his girlfriend, too infatuated to realize that he was starting to pull away from you. you’d tried not to let it bother you, for this was the first time in a while that you’d seen hoseok so happy, and you’d never forgive yourself if you tried to deprive him of that happiness.

so, instead of feeling bitter about how your best friend was spending way more time with his girlfriend than you, you’d thrown yourself into your coursework, letting yourself be distracted and occupied with assignments and exams and the like. and, when you’d have free time, you’d hang out with soobin. and, you wouldn’t say you were purposely avoiding hoseok, but then, it wasn’t entirely a lie either.

aforementioned male seemed all too happy to indulge you, for he always asked you to hang out after classes, and you’d spend hours with him at the park or at the campus starbucks, laughing and talking about nonsense. and, soobin had decided to introduce you to his friends, who were all very kind and a bit chaotic, and “absolute menaces” (soobin’s words).

first was his roommate, taehyun, a wide-eyed music major who, despite soobin’s insistence that he was an “absolute menace to society”, was an absolute sweetheart, and a little quiet and soft-spoken. then, there was yeonjun, a dance major and who’d been the one that had had provided details on jisoo. and, according to soobin, he was known to be a massive flirt, and many females (and some males) were putty in his hands. but, he was also very caring and the eldest of their friend group.

lastly, there was beomgyu and huening kai, two freshman who’d transferred to seoul recently, both also music majors, along with taehyun. beomgyu was loud and a bit chaotic, and huening kai was also equally as chaotic and a bit loud at times, and also one of the tallest people you’d ever met, save for soobin.

aforementioned males were also very kind, albeit a bit too honest at times, but very fun to be around nonetheless. they’d all accepted you into their friend group fairly quickly, and you’d found yourself spending a lot of time with them outside of classes, getting korean barbeque, a drive-in movie, and the arcade, where you’d giggle over how competitive they all were, especially when it came to air hockey. it’d also served as a distraction from how hoseok was spending more time with his girlfriend.

and, one day, hoseok had finally noticed. it was a sunny afternoon, of all things, and you’d been holed up in the campus library for hours, trying to draft an essay for your english literature class, hands hovering above your keyboard, mind whirring for ideas. he’d abruptly burst into the library, earning a few annoyed glances by people around you, but hoseok had paid them no mind.

he’d immediately walked right over to you, confusion and sadness written all over his face. you’d tried to act casual, simply looking up at him over your computer. “what’s wrong?” you asked, keeping your tone neutral, and hoseok had frowned. “shouldn’t i be the one asking you that?” he whisper-yelled, and you’d blanched. “what are you talking about?”

“why have you been avoiding me?” hoseok had blurted, and you’d immediately froze. shit. you hadn’t expected him to confront you directly about it. there was no way you could tell him that you were feeling hurt because he wasn’t spending as much time with you as he usually did. “n-nothing’s wrong, and i haven’t been avoiding you, i’ve been busy with assignments.”

hoseok had rolled his eyes, clearly not buying into your blatant lie. “don’t bullshit me, y/n, we’ve been friends for years, don’t think i can’t tell when you’re lying.” though his tone had been calm, you knew him well enough to know that he was pissed, for you could hear the hidden anger in his voice.

and that’s when you couldn’t take it anymore, and something in you snapped at his words. “well, if you’re so curious, it’s because of you. you’ve been spending more time with aureum lately. and before you yell at me and spout some bullshit, i don’t hate her. i adore her, actually, and i don’t care if you spend time with her, she’s your girlfriend, for fucks sake. but, when you start to neglect me, your best friend, might i add, it kind of stings. i’m not fucking expecting you to spend every minute of everyday with me, but we’re friends, you asshole. you’re not supposed to just forget about me, it’s like our friendship doesn’t even matter to you anymore.”

you were practically rambling at this point, trying to keep your voice as even as possible, fighting back tears of anger and frustration. “i didn’t want to say anything because i know you’re going to think i’m being overdramatic or whatever. but just so you know, i tried not to resent you. i mean, i loved how happy you were, and i would never forgive myself if i took that away from you.”

you exhaled slowly in an attempt to soothe your anger, to no avail. to your frustration, hoseok had just stood there, mouth opening and closing, as if he wasn’t sure what to say. you packed up all your things in a rush, shoving them in your backpack, and fled the library, not sparing a hoseok another glance. after the confrontation, you’d somehow ended up in soobin’s dorm, not wanting to go back to your own, for it was a place that you’d spent a lot of time with hoseok in, and you didn’t want to be reminded of them at the moment.

soobin, ever the angel, had immediately ushered you inside his dorm, running to fetch you a warm blanket to wrap around your shoulders, gently guiding you to sit on his comfy living room couch while he made you a cup of hot chocolate. to your surprise, soobin didn’t question you, demanding for an explanation as to why you’d suddenly shown up at his dorm in the middle of the day, eyes red-rimmed from crying.

he’d just sat beside you on the living room couch in companiable silence, putting on a drama for background noise, and he’d even let you rest your head on his shoulder. “i’m sorry for disturbing you.” you’d whispered after a while, voice slightly hoarse, your now empty mug of hot chocolate sitting on the coffee table. soobin had just shaken his head, giving you a sympathetic grin.

“you’re not, don’t worry. taehyun wouldn’t mind, either. and besides, we’re friends, and aren’t they supposed to be there for each other in times like this?” you’d smiled, despite yourself. “yeah, they are.” then. soobin had started talking about random things, light blue eyes sparkling as he rambled away, and you let him talk your ear off, listening to the comforting timber of his voice.

it’d seemed like hours before there was a knock at soobin’s door, and you felt your stomach curl with dread, knowing exactly who it was. thankfully, soobin only gestured for you to stay put while he went and answered the door. sure enough, it swung open to reveal a frazzled hoseok, jet black hair unruly. “i-is y/n here?” you heard soobin let out a deep, resigned sigh.

“she is, she came here a few hours ago. why?” he asked calmly. “we had a bit of a disagreement earlier, and i just wanted to make sure she’s okay.” you internally scoffed at his words. he wants me to apologize? absolutely not. “well, i can assure you she’s alright. a little emotionally damaged due to a certain someone, but she’s okay. for the most part, at least.”

though soobin’s voice was deadly calm, you knew him well enough to hear the hidden anger in his tone. “i-i didn’t know she was-” “of course you didn’t, because you were too busy with your girlfriend. aureum, was it?” hoseok blanched. “h-how did you-” “y/n tells me everything, asshole. now, you either apologize for hurting her or you get the hell out. your choice.” soobin’s voice was uncharacteristically cold, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

hoseok had apologized, tears streaming down his face, shakily reaching out to clasp your hands in his, and your weak, fragile heart had forgiven him instantly. you knew that you couldn’t stay mad at him for long, it was virtually impossible, especially when he was always so sincere.

then, weeks later, it’d seemed that hoseok and aureum weren’t speaking to each other, for he would scoff and roll his eyes everytime his phone would ping with a new message from her, or when she’d try to call him at ungodly hours. you hadn’t wanted to ask, for hoseok didn’t seem like he wanted to talk about aureum. then, that’s when you’d witnessed a heated argument between them. hoseok had texted you to meet him at the campus starbucks, and so, after a long day of classes, you headed over there, humming softly to yourself as you went.

then, that’s when you heard the yelling, causing you to hover awkwardly in the doorway of starbucks. “what is she to you?!” aureum screamed, tears streaming down her face, mouth twisted in anger. hoseok seemed to be having a hard time containing his own anger, hands curling into fists. “aureum, i already told you, she’s my best friend. i’ve told you this a million fucking times, but you won’t fucking listen to me.” hoseok snapped, voice uncharacteristically cold.

aureum was unfazed as she let out a patronizing laugh. “you expect me to believe that bullshit? i see the way you two look at each other, there’s no fucking way you’re just friends. what’s so special about her anyway? isn’t she always hanging around soobin and his friends? she’s such a-” “don’t you fucking dare insult her in front of me.” hoseok snarled, and aureum’s expression darkened, mouth twisting into a scowl.

other students, bless them, were pretending not to notice the couple arguing, instead feigning interest in the colorful paintings on the walls or the veritable mountain of papers and textbooks scattered on their tables.

“or what? what are you going to do, hoseok? slap me? i’ll have you reported if you do.” she taunted, dark eyes gleaming, and hoseok gritted his teeth, jaw clenching. “i-” “kindly fuck off, aureum.” you said cooly, abruptly cutting him off. said female whirled towards you, dark eyes blazing with a mixture of annoyance and anger.

“he’s not lying to you, you know. i am nothing but his mere best friend, we’ve been friends since childhood. hoseok’s never cheated on you, and even if he did, it certainly wouldn’t be with me. if you actually doubt that hoseok would do such a heinous thing, you’re delusional. he’s one of the most honest and caring guys i’ve ever met, and if you don’t see that, then, i honestly don’t know what to say to you.”

aureum was practically fuming at this point, hands curling into tight fists, nostrils flaring. “what the fuck? who the hell do you think you are to tell me this shit? you don’t get to stand here and insult me.” she spat, and hoseok let out a resigned sigh. “aureum, we all knew this wasn’t going to last long. i mean, i enjoyed all the times we had together, but if you can’t trust me the way i do you, then maybe we shouldn’t let this continue.”

aureum’s eyes widened. “what the hell are you saying?” she asked, lips quivering. “i’m saying that maybe we should take a break. it’s not an official breakup, but i think we need time away from each other, figure things out.” “fine, but don’t come crying to me if you end up missing me too much.” she hissed, and with a withering glare towards you, she stormed out of the starbucks, the door slamming behind her.

“i’m sorry about her.” hoseok mumbled, pale cheeks flushing with shame. “i didn’t expect her to start yelling at me so suddenly, i didn’t even say anything to her.” you shook your head. “no, it’s okay, you have nothing to apologize for.”

“thank you, by the way. for speaking up for me, i mean.” you waved off his thanks with a dismissive hand. “don’t mention it, you looked like you were about to strangle her, i thought i’d save you the trouble.” hoseok snorted, and you fell into an easy and light conversation as you went to order your drinks, the tension in the air slowly fading.

weeks passed, and hoseok seemed much happier without aureum, throwing himself into dance practices, as well as his classes, having late night study sessions with you when he wasn’t stuck at the dance studio. much to his relief, he’d said, aureum had quit the dance team. and, throughout those long weeks, you found yourself falling in love with your best friend.

it horrified you, for hoseok technically still had a girlfriend, they were just on a break. you felt ashamed for even entertaining the thought of hoseok being yours. idiot. he has a fucking girlfriend, for heavens sake, you can’t develop feelings for him.

thus, you tried to ignore the aching feeling in your chest whenever hoseok would give you that gorgeous smile, the one that made his hazel eyes practically sparkle, crinkling at the corners, the shiver that ran down your spine at the loud, full bellied laugh that would spill out of him after you’d tell him an awful joke, or the way his voice sounded in the mornings when he’d call you to come over and bring him a cup of coffee, low and raspy.

it also didn’t help that hoseok was infuriatingly gorgeous. dark hair that fell over perfectly chiseled cheekbones, hazel eyes that were always full of mirth and pure, unadulterated joy, plush lips, and, oh, his smile. it was utterly devestating, the effect it had on you. it lit up his entire face, and it never failed to take your breath away. his voice was soft and deep and gentle, and, not only that, hoseok was kind and intelligent and witty, not to mention one of the most caring people in your life.

you weren’t sure when your feelings had started, but you knew that there was no denying your feelings, especially when you’d noticed that you’d blush when hoseok would do so much as look at you, for heavens sake. fortunately, hoseok was much too oblivious to notice that you’d started to get a bit flustered around him, and for that you were a bit grateful.

you were determined to keep your feelings for your best friend under wraps, no matter what it took. then, one cool, spring night, hoseok asked if you wanted to go to the gazebo with him for a bit, to get some fresh air. of course, you’d said yes, thinking nothing of it, for thet request was nothing new. so, there you were, sitting under a gazebo with the person who always made you feel safe, looking up at the stars.

the air was cool and crisp, and you were grateful that you’d worn your favorite beige cardigan over your loose, black t-shirt. a comfortable silence settled around you, and as such, your mind started to wander. hoseok was sitting close to you, too close, in fact, to the point where your shoulders touched, warmth radiating from the former. you were grateful for the darkness, so hoseok couldn’t see the blush threatening to form. “so, why did you call me out here? i assume it’s not just because you wanted to see me.” you joked, and hoseok let out a soft chuckle.

“you always see right through me, huh?” you nudged his shoulder playfully. “of course, i mean, we’re best friends, aren’t we?” hoseok turned to face you, the soft glow of the moonlight illuminating his sharp features, and you tried not to stare at the slope of his jaw. “y/n, i need to tell you something, and i need you to promise me something.”

he sounded nervous, tone slightly shaky, and immediately, your heart sunk into your stomach. “of course, hoseok, you can tell me anything. and anything.” “promise me that you won’t hate me.” you nearly flinched at his words. “hoseok, i could never hate you.” you whispered softly, and saw the corners of hoseok’s mouth curve into a sad, small smile.

hoseok took a deep breath, his shoulders rising and falling with the thudding of your heart. “i like you. a lot, actually. i’m not sure when it exactly started, nor when i realized it, but you’re the only person that’s always been by my side. and, ever since we met in the park that one afternoon, i knew that i wanted to have someone as beautiful and amazing and kind and brave and honest in my life, even if our relationship didn’t turn out to be romantic. you’re brilliant and loving and caring and the most stubborn person i’ve ever met, and though i tried to convince myself that what i felt you for was purely platonic, it was no use.”

“and, before you say anything, i broke things off with aureum. i decided to do before i came here. there was no use in trying to save our relationship anyway, we were doomed to fail from the start. i was a fool for ever thinking that you were just a friend to me.” after the confession had spilled from his lips, you’d sat there, stunned, heart pounding.

“w-what? y-you l-like me?” you stammered, and hoseok let out a soft laugh, running a hand through his messy black hair. “yeah, i do, and i’m sorry it took me this long to realize.” “i-i like you too, hoseok, i have for a long time.” you murmured, quiet enough for only hoseok to hear.

“c-can i kiss you?” he asked, hazel eyes soft. “yes. please.” your heart was pounding wildly as hoseok pressed his lips to yours, butterfly soft and almost fleeting. feeling a surge of confidence, you wrapped your arms around his neck, leaning into him for a proper kiss, feeling hoseok smile as his mouth slotted perfectly into yours, hand cupping your cheek gently.

the kiss was long and sweet and felt like coming home, and you felt hoseok arms wrap around your back, pulling you into him, and it was pure bliss. it’d taken a lot for this day, this moment, to happen, but you wouldn’t have changed it for the world, not one bit.

a/n: the ending was so bad wtf anyways i hope you all enjoyed this <333 i’m having so much fun writing these superache based drabbles, and i hope you all are enjoying them as much as i am <3 shoutout to @joonlery and @sunshinejunghoseokie, my fellow conan enthusiasts i literally adore y’all so much mwah <3333

tagging: @raplinesmoon , @kithtaehyung , @taegularities , @kookdiaries , @sketchguk, @ressjeon, @playmetheclassics, @writtenwhalien , @joyfulhopelox, @mochi-molala, @yoon2k , @joonlery , @sunshinejunghoseokie , @blushingkoo , @codeinebelle, @kth1 , @jeonjcngkook, @jenoloqy , @4gustdiors , @softguks , @sugakookitty , @jtrbluv , @everkook , @taeyo95 , @lavienjin , @kookstempo , @kookskingdom + anyone else who wants to be tagged <3

#mine #btscarnivalnet #btshoneyhive #kvanity #akademia net #houseofddaeng #52hertz #bangtanbathhouse #btswritingcafe #bangtaninn

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yesimwriting · 3 years

Text

Falling Angels

A/n this literally poureddd from me, might be bad bc recently i’ve hated everything i’ve written (my drafts are full lol)

Series Summary: Y/n is a rising star in the most famous circus in Ketterdam because of her ability to see the future. Unfortunately for her, Kaz Brekker knows more of her backstory than he should, and he’s willing to use that to his advantage. The one thing he’s not betting on? That he doesn’t know her entire story

Chapter summary: Y/n gets a visitor before getting tricked into the most dangerous show of her life.

Pairing: SOC x reader, Kaz Brekker x psychic! sunshine-y! reader

Warning: mentions of sexual harassment, slight cursing, near death experience

Enjoy it, because it doesn’t last. That’s what the older girls whisper, mock casualness attempting to disguise bitter undertones as I walk past them. They say this, sharp nails ready to be covered in blood as red as their lipstick, because the pile of gifts from my ‘admirers’ keep coming. Circus hands keep approaching the long vanity in the dressing room tent, tapping me on the shoulder politely to shove cards and bouquets of flowers in my lap. They don’t understand that the praise isn’t because the patrons of our performances find me more beautiful--they’re desperate for my favor. They’re desperate to know their future.

Looking at myself in the mirror, the pageantry of it all has not yet grown old to me. My hair is still in the process of being styled, my stage makeup is half done, and I am not yet coated in that golden shimmer Senia always dusts across my cheeks and shoulders. But I am more enhanced than I normally am, eyes made bright by thick coats of mascara, cupid's bow made prominent by ruby lipstick. The lip look is more daring than I’ve been before, but there can’t be much harm in change. Not when half the women here keep looking at me like I’m the saint of virginity.

It’s not my fault that the Ringmaster thought an angelic aesthetic would work best for the fortune teller who walks around before the show, reading palms so that people can have their pockets picked. It’s not my fault people want an angel to take the stage and call people down from the audience to get a detailed reading around the crowded circus tent. I don’t pick the costumes, and while I acknowledge that mine shows the least amount of skin, the Ringmaster found a way to dress me as suggestively as possible without ruining the illusion of innocence.

At least the flowing tulle wings that are stitched into the back of my costume are beautiful. It’s easier when I enjoy the good.

“Y/n!” The familiar call of Senia. I turn my head, beaming. “You’re a vision, and all of those jealous girls--you can tell them to take their wrinkling faces and--”

“Seria.” For someone so much like a mother, she often needs to be reminded that not everything needs an aggressive rebuttal. “Think about it from their perspectives--their entire existence is dependent on how sellable they are, how attractive they are to men who only want to use them. If that makes them mad at me because they feel like my youth and novelty is taking from them, then that’s okay.” She raises a fine eyebrow. “I can take a few mean words.”

Seria purses her lips. “Okay, but I’m just as old and tired and you don’t see me trying to poison you.”

I roll my eyes.

“Look, it's our very own saint.” I roll my eyes, Via’s shrill voice piercing through me like an annoying papercut. “And in such a scandalous lip color--has the Ringmaster finally taken you to the ivory tent?”

Ivory tent. It’s been mentioned to me before and always in jest. “Where he takes me is none of your business, if not being the favorite hurts you so badly ju--”

She laughs, the sound is pure vile. “Being the favorite is the worst thing you could be in a place like this. You’re shiny and new and soon you’ll be as used as the rest of us--Seria’s use is waning, what happened to her today is proof of that. Soon you’ll have no one to protect you.”

When she looks at me I see more pain than hatred. “I think we’d get along better if I had it in me to hate you.”

She raises an eyebrow before shaking a cigarette from a small box into her palm. “You’ll get there, princess.”

The nickname leaves me burning. There’s nothing more consuming than fire. “You better pray to the real Saints I don’t.”

via laughs, lifting the cigarette to her lips and lighting it with her abilities. She walks away, turning my threat into that of a child’s.

“She’s right on two accounts.” Seria hums, “The Ringmaster will kill you if you wear that lipstick and Ketterdam turns people like you into people like me. We could save up, pay off your indenture--get you out.”

Seria doesn’t need to make sacrifices like that. Not for me. Besides, there’s no leaving Ketterdam for me. Not anymore. “Being like you wouldn’t be a bad thing.” I scratch my arm, see through material wrinkling as a result. “And I can’t--I can’t just leave. I’m a psychic, no Grisha can see the future. I need the facelessness of Ketterdam.” Her lips thin in protest. “And don’t think I didn’t hear what she said about you--what happened to your foot, and what’s in the ivory tent? People keep saying it, whispering it like there’s--”

“That tent is nothing that will ever concern you. I’ve given you my guidance, and the one thing I ask is that you never ask or go to the ivory tent.”

I swallow once, the intensity in her eyes leaving me raw. “What if he tells me to?”

“He won’t.” Seria breathes. “He doesn’t like that for you.”

This isn’t an argument I can have now, not with two minutes until the show starts. “And your foot?”

She shrugs, holding up a bandaged ankle. “You get older, your ligaments like the tightrope walk less and less. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not tightrope walking like that--”

“Yes, I am. The Ringmaster doesn’t know and he can’t--if I start giving him performance trouble--you don’t know what happens to the girls who can’t pay off their indenture by performing.”

I swallow once. “You’ll be careful?”

“Always,” she grins, “Besides--one day you’ll know enough about tightrope walking to help me on days like this.”

The last time I trained on the mini-tightrope had proven me to be a disappointment. Still, I smile at her softly. I open my mouth to respond, but a quick tap to my shoulder silences me.

“Miss,” a circus hand I recognize begins.

I smile politely. “Please leave any gifts on my vanity--”

“It’s not a gift,” he mumbles, voice taut, “You have visitors.”

Something solid pushes itself into my chest, wedging itself between my lungs. Have they found me? “I-I don’t take visitors. Not before shows, if someone wants a private reading they’re to go to my tent at the front--”

“We’re not here for readings or any of the other lies you sell.”

...Surprising. I let my gaze move from the face of the circus hand and towards the individuals behind him. A man, tall and dressed in business attire--hat and all. His face is all sharp angles and his eyes are emotionless. His leather-gloved hands grip the head of an intricate cane. Next to him is another tall man, dressed a little more casually, with dark curls. Lastly, there’s a girl, with oil-black hair pulled into a sleek ponytail.

“Then what are you here for?”

Seria, never one to leave me unattended around strange men, takes a step in front of me. “I know who you are, Dirtyhands, and I know there’s no business you could find with her.”

What? Dirtyhands? Can people in Ketterdam ever just be normal?

“I wouldn’t speak so certainly.” I don’t like the way his eyes narrow at Seria or the way his grip on the cane tightens.

Thoughtlessly, I stick a hand between them, forcing Seria back slightly. “I apologize, she’s protective--always assuming the worst in people. Though considering she called you ‘Dirtyhands’, maybe that’s what you want.”

Ugh. All I do is ramble when I most definitely shouldn’t. “Want what?”

Eyebrows drawing together, I force myself to hold his gaze. “For people to assume the worst.”

The response seems to confuse him. That’s okay--I’ll take anything over aggressive. “The only people I want to assume the worst are those I want to be right.”

Okay. Dramatic was a fair assumption.

“Seria.” Oh no. I know that voice. I know that voice too well. “They tell me you're injured.”

Seria stiffens, as does every performer when he addresses them. “Not too injured to perform, sir.”

The Ringmaster sneers. “I can’t risk you falling and embarrassing me. Perhaps tonight you’ll make your money by spending the entire show in the ivory tent.”

The way she hardens wrenches my gut. I press my hands to avoid reaching out for her. “I can do the tightrope.” The Ringmaster’s gaze shifts towards me. “I can do it--and I can do it well and I’ll give the profit to Seria.”

He tilts his chin, regarding me in a way a woman should never be regarded. He’s a predator and I’m a lamb that’s lost its way. Still, I hold his gaze. I don’t flinch, even when he moves to brush his knuckles along my cheek. His touch is acid. Pure, burning acid. “The wings I placed on your back are decorative.”

“I don’t need them.” Total bullshit.

“Hm,” he breathes, letting the smell of alcohol fill the space between us, “I’ll allow it.” The Ringmaster drops his hand to his side. “Wipe that lipstick off your face before someone mistakes you for one of these common whores.”

How I don’t throw up at the sight of him is a miracle in itself. By some small mercy, he turns and walks away before I have to respond.

“You’re an idiot--you know you’re not ready for the tightrope.”

“There’s a net,” I try to keep my voice light, dismissive. She remains tense. “Seria, I had to.”

“No, you could have--”

“It’s not fair that you’re always a shield for me. When the opportunity to shield you for once comes, I’ll take it.” Turning before she can protest, I try to walk forward. The stranger places his cane where I intend to walk, intentionally warning me that he decides when our conversation is over. Unfortunately, I used up all my patience with the Ringmaster. “130 kruge.” He raises an eyebrow. “That’s the estimated amount I’ll make tonight, unless I’m late and excluded from the show. Either make up the deficit you’ll be costing me or let me go.”

His eyebrows draw together, shifting his expression from neutrally calloused to something much darker. “Kaz.” This comes from the girl. She takes a step forward. “Look one step ahead.”

“Excuse me?”

“Everyone thinks you’re not supposed to look down, but looking up is just as impractical.” She pauses, expression strangely mesmerized, “Look one step ahead--not at your feet.”

My genuine smile shocks me. “Thank you.”

“I should be thanking you, Sankta y/n.” Her head bows, hands held together as if in prayer.

Oh. She’s one of the religious that believes me an actual Saint. “I appreciate the sentiment, but if I was a Saint I’d be able to help people.” No matter what I do, no matter how much blood I offer, I can never help people. “And as you’ve seen--I can’t.”

The crowd’s roaring is a different world to me. On the platform, feet away from the other wooden structure acting as solid ground, everything is different. I am now in a world where the only thing to believe in is a taut rope. The net is beneath me. I’ve seen it--I’ve checked it.

“And for our grand finale!” The Ringmaster calls, voice billowing over an excited crowd. “Our very own angel defies death!”

An odd way to phrase the tightrope walk. It’s never called ‘defying death’. I had been surprised when I was told that tonight the tightrope walk would be the grand finale--I assumed it was because it featured me. I’m always the finale now. I try to move my foot off the platform but it’s planted firmly. No. I need to see Seria--I need to see who I’m doing this for. I force my gaze to the ground, panic rising in my chest.

Instead of Seria, I see Via--her smirk apparent even from here. Spite’s a decent motivator. My foot descends off the platform, touching the tightrope cautiously. And then I move my other foot. All of me is now on this damn rope. I hadn’t been unforgivably horrible during practice, but I hadn’t been graceful either.

Don’t look down, don’t look up--only look one step ahead. One step ahead--one step at a time. Balance. I take another step. The room is so silent there’s no doubt in my mind the sound of my bones cracking would be heard from the back row. But there’s the net. There’s always the net. I take a second step. And then a third--eyes focused on only one step ahead.

And then the phantom of flame comes to claim me. Fire. The world around me is burning. Damning the consequences, I let my gaze fall to the world beneath me. The net--the Ringmaster had an Inferni light the net on fire. Via--that explains the look.

I can’t fall--the guilt would kill Seria.

Panic twists my stomach as I continue forward. One step ahead. One step ahead--the flames lick upwards, promising pain and grief all over again. One step ahead. One step--that’s all there is to it. The warmth of the fire calls to me. Burning. Burning--and one more step. This isn’t forever. This isn’t permanent--either way this will soon be over.

There’s no miracle for me. No good grace, no wings that would let me save myself. There is only balance.

One step ahead. And then another step. And then I see the other wooden platform. Thank the Saints. I grip the ladder of the platform as quickly as possible. The cheers mean nothing to me as I scurry down the ladder.

I feel a sharp breeze, a Grisha putting out the flames. Anger pools in my chest as I move towards the exit of the tent.

“Y/n.” No. Not him again. That man--Kaz, Dirtyhands, whoever he is--needs to go away. “Y/n.” I turn sharply, anger pulsing through me. My expression must be feral, because he stalls. “They didn’t tell you that they were going to burn the net.”

The fact that he can tell--that he can see my panic and how close I came to death twists my anger into something more fragile. “No.” My posture straightens. “I need to go now, I do--I do readings after shows.”

“Y/n.” He repeats, firmer.

My nails dig into my palms. “I’m going--”

“I know what you are.”

Tensing, my breathing stalls. “What?”

#kaz brekker #kaz brekker x reader #kazz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x you #six of crows #six of crows x reader #six of crows x you #soc imagine #six of crows imagine #my works #series #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #grishaverse #grishaverse x reader #sab netflix #grishaverse imagine

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unholyplumpprincess · 4 years

Text

Eternal Honeymoon Phase

For @itsthesinbin bc we were yelling about Morticia and Gomez and it’s spooky season so the Addams Family works perfectly. I HOPE U LIKE IT!!!!

Summary: You’re the newest addition to the Addams Family couple and you’re a little shier when it comes to their sexual appetites. You’re, well, a virgin, and when you finally ask to do more, Morticia has a better idea on how and when to take your virginity. Under the moon of Halloween, you shall be their sacrifice.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU LIKE! Minors and ageless blogs DNI or you will be blocked.

Fandom: Addams Family

Relationship: Morticia/Gomez/Reader

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Reader is gn and has a vulva, also reader wears a dress but it’s a costume for an angel costume!, implications of virginity kinks for Gomez and Morticia, uhhhh ya get eaten out and ur face fucked, overstimulation.

Words: 3.3k

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Morticia and Gomez had never been against adding a third to their little ‘eternal honey moon’ romance.

It’s just that no one had ever quite...fit into their world of them as a couple. They could come off a little strong, a little, ah, overbearing and well. Downright indulging in intimacy like rabbits tended to not be something people enjoyed, much to Gomez’s and Morticia’s surprise. Whatever did people mean that they lost a ‘spark’? They just didn’t see it.

They had met you at a family gathering. You’re a friend to one of the many, many, many family members there, exuding such a sweet and kind energy amongst all the dread and vulgarity. You’d seemed a little overwhelmed among everyone else yet still was just as polite with everyone. Your state of dress had been borrowed, Morticia had noticed, from cousin Lilith. The dress you had on spilled off your shoulders and you kept adjusting it with a little shy bow of your head and flashing a small smile.

Poor thing.

~Rest under the cut~

You’d caught Morticia’s eye first, who had hummed her interest as Gomez dipped her upon the dancefloor. Her head had been tipped back, showing the long, pale expanse of her neck that he ached to kiss as her hair spilled behind her. But, he’d seen her eyes lingering on you, trailing up and over to you from where she was looking and a grin spreading across his face. “Cara mia?” He questions in a teasing tone, kissing over her shoulder and up to her neck before pulling her to a standing position. “The one Lilith brought has your attention?”

“Yes...Don’t you think they look rather sweet standing there?” Morticia hums in reply once she returns to his embrace, swaying their bodies together and making sure to twist so they both could glance over at you. You’re talking to another cousin, tucking hair behind your ear and smiling kindly at something someone else says. A laugh graces your features, and even Gomez is humming now.

“Out of place,” He agrees, taking her hand and letting her spin from his grasp only to bring her back in time with the waltz, resting his head upon her breast with a sigh from his lips. “You have always been fond of the smaller ones, haven’t you, Tish?” A playful tease that earns him that charming little laugh from his wife’s lips.

That night they had both approached you, each offering a dance. Morticia quite liked the way your cheeks warmed a healthy shade of pink and you’d been honest about how your dress kept falling. To which Gomez, ever the gentleman had offered his assistance there. Brandishing a pin from seemingly nowhere and getting behind you to help pin the dress closed better. You’d smiled so bright then, thanking him with a hearty laugh. “I thought I was going to pop out of it any second now! Thank you- Would you both like to dance? I’m sure we can come up with something together!”

And how odd you had been. Breaking traditions of just two in an intimate dance. Showing them how Gomez could hold your waist from behind and you could hold Morticia’s from the front and all sway together. Over your shoulders you hadn’t seen the way the two looked at you. A bright spray of sunshine in their gloomy, dark worlds.

They quite liked their rainy days full of thunder and harsh winds, and at first, they thought that wouldn��t be your speed.

You’re invited privately to come into their home for dinner. You’re such a vibrant ray of sunshine in the otherwise dark room, lighting it up with the glow of your presence. There are quiet tests here and there as they get to know you. Such as inviting you on terribly stormy days only for you to excuse yourself with the children to go out and play. Only to come back in soaking wet and smiling just as bright as Gomez wraps you in a towel with a laugh as you exclaim how beautiful their home always is.

And how much you loved that it was always storming or cloudy.

Another time, Mama offers you something and exclaims it to be a sort of poison. Morticia had watched as you smiled, only questioning if it at least tasted good before you’d put it into your mouth. It had been laced, of course, Mama was always good at such things. Thankfully it only made you terribly drowsy. Such a sweet thing you had been with your head in Morticia’s lap that day. Gomez having helped you out of your shoes and let you lay your legs across his lap, stroking over your calf. You’d smiled so lazily up at them, your voice happy as could be. “It did taste good. She wasn’t lying on both accounts, huh?”

Nothing frightened you. Nothing turned you away. Somehow you took doom and gloom and made it into something bright and beautiful without modifying what it looked like. Even the children took kindly to your presence. The house just came to life with you inside it, everyone seemed more active. Even Gomez had taken to leaning over the railing with wistful sighs as he watched you, and Morticia knew it was up to her to do something about it.

You’d been asked to accompany them both to dinner privately. Neither Gomez or Morticia had been into the dating scene- as is they married practically a month after they had met and proposed the day of meeting. Yet, you seemed a little old fashioned to just be proposed to in such short notice. Much to Gomez’s dismay who already had a ring picked out for you and had pouted when Morticia gently closed the box to tell him as such.

You’d agreed joyously to dinner, and not long after had your relationship begun. Gomez had been the one to ask if you would be moving in with them, both of them delighting in the flush on your face and stuttering out about how you weren’t particularly attached to your apartment. He’d insisted with a big smile, and you’d agreed. The children were just as excited, even if Wednesday had showed her own happiness in her own little way of offering to hide weapons in your room ‘just in case’.

Prompting you to ask, of course, “Just in case? What, an attacker?”

“No,” Wednesday had spoken as if it was the most obvious answer on Earth. “Just in case I want to test your reflexes.”

Morticia and Gomez had the delight of watching you spare a grin to her, pretending to pout and telling her. “Aw, man, that’s too bad because maybe I waaaant tooo test,” Only to quickly scoop her up, resulting in their daughter letting out a shriek of terror and joy. “YOUR reflexes!”

The look they had shared was full of love, Gomez’s smile lighting up the room and Morticia having to resist the urge to steal your moment and whisk you away to the bedroom.

To present day, you three have been a couple for nearly half a year. Your first kisses with both of them had been shared, as well as some more intense heavy petting. Normally resulting in you in between them with scarlet red lipstick marks curling up your neck and bite marks on the other side. No one went further than just making you a blushing mess, always one of them murmuring to you that you just need say the word and they would ravish you.

A week before Halloween you shyly tell them that you’re ready to go further.

Morticia has to rest a hand on Gomez’s leg to keep him still when he sits up eagerly in their bed like a dog hearing the word ’treat’, but Morticia only cups your cheek fondly. Smoothing her thumb over the apple of your cheek and drawing you into an oh-so-soft kiss. “In a week, my dear, we shall have a ritual on Halloween night. You are a virgin, correct?”

Her bluntness had made your face burn, a huff going from your nose but you’d nodded. Gomez had hummed next to her, reaching over to replace her hand with his own rougher one and letting you lean into his palm with a pout. “Now, now, none of that, sweetheart! We’ll have plenty of time to plan for you and get questions out of the way. Like condoms! Shall we need condoms? Tish- we don’t have condoms, do we?”

“No, my love, we have never desired them before.” Morticia had responded with a sly smile on her lips, sharing a look with you. It seemed you would burn up before they even got to play, but you’d shaken your head, your voice seemingly caught in your throat.

“Good,” Morticia near about purred. “We shall inquire further- would you like to join us in bed tonight to make preparations?”

You had joined them that night. Talking of consent and what you thought you might want to try or be comfortable with. Ending up curled up in Gomez’s arms with your face buried in his warm, hairy chest and Morticia’s freezing cold arms around you from behind. Embraced and safe within their bodies.

When Halloween approaches, the children are so excited to drag you and Fester outside to come up with games. Pugsley had dressed as a pirate fit with an eyepatch and a sword in hand, whilst Wednesday had merely taken dressing brightly for once. When questioned, she’d merely said in a stoic tone of voice, “A majority of the animal kingdom has brightly colored flesh in order to identify who is poisonous.” You’d thought it was rather clever.

Yourself, you had dressed as a cliché angel. With a white dress that reached the floor with a slit up each leg for more freedom. The top was a plunge neck with criss crossing strings over your chest, and flaring sleeves down to your fingertips. You’d even gotten a little halo headband and little wings to match. Though your halo was quickly given to Fester who had quite the fascination with it, smiling as you told him you two matched.

Perhaps you had dressed as an angel as a tease. Morticia had admitted that she was quite attracted to the fact that you hadn’t had penetrative sex yet, spoken exactly like that. And Gomez had agreed, not as bluntly but definitely implying that it was very much a ‘thing’ for them both. And maybe you were trying to get a little payback for in the middle of the week. When you had been so comfortable resting with them only to find yourself teased with hot and heavy kisses from Gomez and little nips on your neck from Morticia as they both told you how good of a sacrifice you were going to make on Halloween night.

When you’d arrived, you’d certainly felt their hungry stares. You’d call this righteous payback, thank you very much.

The entire day goes rather well, you’d thought. The children had a day full of fun and were being put to bed by Lurch, slung over both his shoulders as they both wave to you before vanishing around the corner of upstairs. Immediately you feel arms wrap around your waist from behind, a warm kiss pressed to your shoulder and Gomez’s voice sighing out. “As much as I appreciate the time you spend with the children, I am glad it is our turn now.”

“And what if I’m too tired, hm?” You tease out, only to fall into giggles from your lips when his arms squeeze tighter around your waist and a low growl comes from his throat. You hear the click of heels approaching before Morticia is in front of you, her long fingers tipping your chin up with two fingers. You can practically hear both yours and Gomez’s breaths leave your body at her beauty. She always looked so regal, especially tonight in a more spider web designed dress that had a slit up the leg.

“If you are too tired, we shall simply put off until next Halloween. I am patient.” She speaks coolly, a quirk to a corner of her mouth when you whine aloud and lean back into Gomez’s arms who makes the same sound as you. Clearly the most patient one in the room was Morticia, but even then, her eyes are flicking down the front of your low plunge dress and you have a feeling that wouldn’t last long.

After a few teasing ‘double checks’ from the both of them, you are brought to a room that you don’t recognize. It’s wide open with windows covering one side, and in the center of the room is soft looking cushions and blankets. In a star formation on either side of the center where the comfortable spot looked were lit up candles, all black with roaring red flames. You should have realized Morticia wasn’t joking when she said sacrifice, but in your heart, you knew nothing bad was going to happen. Nothing you didn’t want would happen.

Gomez is the one who strips you from behind, warm kisses placed on everywhere he exposes behind you. Trailing kisses down your back until he can’t reach whilst standing anymore and letting your dress pool to the floor. Morticia watches, patient as ever with her hands folded at her waist, though her head does tilt, this hungry gaze in her eyes as they fall to your hips. You weren’t wearing underwear, you thought it would give your dress undesirable lines. You flush when you hear the appreciative sound behind you, a firm hand tracing down your side and squeezing your ass.

“You were just as eager to get here as we were all day.” Gomez growls in your ear, both his hands grabbing your hips now and yanking you back against him. You whimper faintly, tipping your head to the side when guided to feel the searing hot kisses up your neck. You’re already dizzy with arousal, faintly hearing Morticia say something only to be released and guided to the cushions instead by her hands.

You’re lain on your back, watching Gomez strip from his suit jacket and loosening his tie to work on the buttons. Morticia slips out of her dress, revealing a black lacy get up with matching bra and panties, a garter belt holding spider web thigh highs on her long legs. You swallow thickly when she crawls up to you, nudging your legs apart that tremble as they fall open. Cold kisses leave scarlet prints up your inner thigh beginning at your knee, her lips coming up and over your hip to your lower abdomen and kissing her way back down, down, down.

Her fingers part your lower lips and you throw your head back in embarrassment when she smiles up at you under her lashes. “Already so wet, little one? How sweet.” You can’t even help the way your hips jump when her cold mouth presses an open-mouthed kiss over the hood of your clit, her tongue pressing downwards against you before sealing her lips lightly over you.

A low whine leaves your throat, your fingers quickly twisting into the sheets beneath you as your hips start to hump against her mouth without thinking. You feel a pressure by your head before your eyes flutter open halfway, looking up at Gomez who pushes your hair out of your face adoringly. “Open your mouth, sweetheart, stick out your tongue for me.” Murmured gently from his lips, and you do as told, a shudder racing through your body when Morticia’s tongue dips lower.

His cock is in his hand, thick enough to the point not even his fingers touch when holding it. It looked shorter, maybe at about five inches with the foreskin pulled back with a tug of his hand across his cock. Your mouth waters at the sight of the flushed head, fluttering your eyes closed when he glides the head of it across your tongue. “Ah, there you go, darling, just get used to the taste for now.” Spoken lowly in his throat, as if he’s holding back from just grabbing you and slipping into your throat.

You get to experiment with little laps of your tongue after a moment, keeping your lips parted to allow him to slide the shaft over your lips so you could get used to the weight. A moan spills from you when you feel Morticia’s tongue back on your clit, applying pleasant pressure and moaning against you in turn. You whimper sharply, your hand reaching down to try and find her. She takes the hint, her fingers lacing with yours at your hip to hold your hand there.

It isn’t long before Gomez is pressing the head at your lips, talking you through it ever so softly. “Breathe through your nose, relax your jaw- there you go, that’s my sweet pet.” Crooning as he presses carefully into your mouth. It stretches your jaw, your head tipped backwards and your breath stuttered. He only dips halfway, his hand coming down to rest on your jaw, helping you keep tilted and supported.

By the time he finally slips all the way into your mouth, his balls against your nose and your eyes nearly rolling into the back of your head, you’re cumming. You squeeze tight to Morticia’s hand, automatically swallowing around the weight in your mouth with moans blossoming from your chest. Your body trembles, hips stuttering up against her mouth where she licks you through each wave and even afterwards. Until your tremors are too much and you’re making soft whimpers around Gomez’s cock and trying to shake your head, but his hand holds you still.

“Mmh. That was one. Just four more.” Morticia practically croons, pressing a kiss to your engorged clit that’s surely circled by a ring of lipstick right now. Your hips jerk upwards, moving your free hand up to Gomez’s thigh and clinging to him when his hips start to move lightly.

Four?! Four more?! You try to sob out, but only the tail end of it gets out when Gomez pulls his hips back until the head rests heavy on your lips. You try to speak, but Morticia’s nails tracing up your thighs as she sits up catches your attention more. “My love, the toys?”

“Behind you in the bag, dearest.” He hums out fondly, the hand gripping your jaw smoothing his thumb over your wet lips until your lips part again, taking his cock once more with a low growl in his voice. “I think you were made to be a toy for us, little one. How well you take me.”

You can’t help your own whimper when he slides all the way back into your mouth. Your eyes fluttering just as you feel Morticia return with the light pressure between your legs. She lifts one of your thighs, angling you better for the rounded head of a smaller toy that you assume is a dildo, already wet with lubrication. “I would ask Gomez to prepare you as my nails are too long,” Morticia explains, her hand lying flat on the mound of your sex, her thumb circling your clit to not overstimulate you just yet. “But, it seems he is preoccupied at the moment. I cannot say I am not jealous.”

“In d-due time, my dear,” He huffs out, his hips speeding up slightly when you prove you can take the smaller thrusts. Your toes curl, feeling the toy slowly slide into you with a delicious, slight stretch to it. It isn’t long before Morticia’s moving it in sync with Gomez’s hips, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and feeling just like the toy Gomez claimed you were.

You know by the end of the night you’ll end up well taken care of and tired out. But for now, you’re happy to be caught in between them, drooling around Gomez’s cock and feeling Morticia’s cold tongue lapping at your slick.

You think Heaven is a lot darker and gloomier than thought to be.

#Addams Family #Morticia x Gomez x Reader #Morticia Addams #Gomez Addams #nsft #lemon #princess writing

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missmonsters2 · 4 years

Audio

Close to You

Edit: gif by giuliacommissions

Pairing: Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader/OFC

Prompt: I’ll keep you warm. Hold me closer.

Note: As we all know, Wanda Maximoff is the love of my life. A break for softness bc Between the Lines will be angsty and sad for a while 👀

Warnings: this is fucking soft™

Genre: Fluff

Count: 3453

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The world is beautiful.

The sunlight's warmth caresses your cheek, a light wind running its breeze through your hair. The only sound you can hear is the soft music playing and a light snore. The smell of pine wafts through the air as you drive at a steady pace. There's no rush; you are exactly where you want to be.

You hear a slight mumble to your right, and you turn over to see Wanda shifting slightly in her seat but doesn't wake. Her eyes are closed as she curls as much as she can in the passenger seat.

Your lip curves upward gently as you turn your attention back to the road.

You think of the girl beside you.

The world is beautiful.

And it was worth saving.

You constantly have to remind yourself of that fact. Otherwise, you don't think you could get up anymore.

Defeating Thanos had taken everything.

Natasha was gone. Tony was gone. Vision was gone. Steve was not gone, but his hip would probably break if he moved the wrong way, so fighting was out of the question for the old man.

So many people were still gone, and the world never felt so lonely.

You lean your head against your fist towards the window, feeling more of the wind against your face and hair. Taking a deep breath in, you let it out slowly through your nose.

Another noise beside you draws your attention back, and you find Wanda waking slowly. She's a little disgruntled, and the side of her hair has lifted and looped from her sleep.

You bite your tongue, holding in the words that want to come out.

Wanda is absolutely charming.

Still, Wanda turns her head to you a little too quickly, unintentionally catching your thoughts. Her cheeks dust a light rose color as she runs her fingers through her hair to straighten herself out.

"Hey," she rasps, still groggy. Grabbing the water bottle between the two of you, she takes a long gulp, finishing with a light sigh.

"Hey, sleepyhead," you smile. Wanda looks apologetic, but you just chuckle it off.

Wanda looks out the window, breath hitching just ever so slightly at the view. She likes that it feels like the world could go on and on forever in the car with you. The trees look lusher, the air seems crisper, and even the sky seems a little happier--if that makes sense.

"Where are we heading today?" Wanda asks patiently.

Every few days to a week is always new, and Wanda has been on the road with you for a while. She's learned that sometimes you have a place in mind and the other times? You're just driving until you decide you like where you are.

"To Lake Cushman," you tap the steering wheel with your index finger in a slow, steady rhythm. Wanda hums as she rolls down her window too to feel the breeze on her skin.

The rest of the drive is serene. The two of you enjoy the ride, listening to the same song over and over again.

When you get to the lake, you park the car, and Wanda goes to the trunk to help you carry things out. Wanda spends her time at the edge of the lake blowing up the inflatable boat you packed along manually.

You smile.

It wasn't always like this. In fact, Wanda wasn't even someone you were really close with. Of course, you were a team, and you wouldn't hesitate to have her back in a battle. But Wanda used to have her own world with Vision, and that world existed far from you.

It wasn't until the funeral that the two of you really noticed each other.

The funeral left you with a hollow feeling. You stood with Clint and Wanda for a minute more before you turned to leave, muttering about contacting you if something happened.

You were a traveler, always have been. Being an Avenger never changed that.

You hugged Morgan and Pepper before you went to your car to pack things up.

"Can I come with you?"

The sudden words made you turn around.

Wanda stood there, the rim of her eyes red from crying and also trying to hold in the tears. Her legs stood together straight, but she held her hands together in front of her tightly, revealing she was worried about you rejecting her.

You stared at her for a long moment.

"Of course."

The first few weeks to two months of traveling was strange. You're not sure what possessed Wanda to ask you if she could tag along. You're not sure what possessed you to say yes.

Wanda didn't talk much, still grieving just like you. That left the road trips with tons of silence. You weren't really sure of what to think about the company or her specifically. The only time Wanda had ever seemed happy was with Vision, and now he was gone.

But still, you think you could pinpoint a certain day that things seemed to change.

"No powers."

Wanda frowned. "Why not?"

"It's my rules when traveling. If you want to tag along, no powers unless we really need it." You stood firm with your stance.

The two of you were on a hike, particularly a long one with a lot of inclines. Wanda wanted to float her way up--generously offering to take you as well, but you said no.

"You think showing our powers would be dangerous?" Wanda scrunches her brows together with a slight frown on her lips.

"No," you blinked.

"Then, why?" Wanda asks exasperatedly.

You sigh, looking at the girl before you. "Wanda, there are times when efficiency is good. Like when our lives are at stake, or we're in a battle or a mission. Powers are wonderful when we need to save others."

You turn your head to look around the scenery. "But look around here," you tell her, your peripheral vision catching Wanda doing as she's told. "Right now, it's just you and me on a hike. The world isn't falling apart, no fight that needs to be fought, and we have absolutely no rush to be anywhere."

You turn your head back to Wanda's, catching the other girl's vibrant but confused eyes. "For people like us, we generally don't have the luxury to waste time. But if we get the chance the smell the flowers along the way, shouldn't we?"

Wanda stares at you. Blinking once, then twice.

And then a tentative, shy smile blooms.

"I used to hate the sky."

The comment is said so quietly you almost miss it, but it breaks you out of thought.

You move your head further to the side, catching Wanda, who is still staring at the sky. The two of you lie on your backs on opposite edges of the inflatable boat.

"Yeah?" You say as you move your head back to look at the sky along with Wanda. A warm leg moves and presses against yours, and you think about how wonderful it is to be able to share the same sky with Wanda. "Why?"

Wanda is silent, seemingly shocked because no one has ever asked why. So, she presses her lips together, trying to formulate her answer.

"I guess...I hated that the sky always seemed to pass by," Wanda sighs as she closes her eyes. "It was like time was passing by, and I didn't get the chance to notice it. I'd wake up when it was still dark, and by the time I was done the day, it was dark again."

At this point, Wanda can't tell if the warmth against her leg is hers or yours. All she knows is that she wants more of it.

"I guess you don't hate it anymore?" You chuckle a little, knowing you and Wanda spend most days relaxing in the sun.

Wanda opens her eyes, staring at the clear blue sky. The thought of how she's always learning something from you crosses her mind.

For example, if they have the luxury to enjoy the flowers along the journey, they should.

Or oranges can be very flammable.

But Wanda has come to realize things on her own too.

Like how life is made up of moments, and if she decides to be just a little brave, she can get the moments she wants.

"The sky is beautiful during the day," Wanda concedes, but she bites her lip as you hum. Taking a deep breath before swallowing. Her moment of bravery comes in the form of sliding her hand across the small boat, her fingers just meeting the start of yours. "But I no longer mind when it's dark when I wake up and dark when my day ends if I am with you."

You turn your hand over, palm facing up as you curl your fingers to just hook Wanda's fingers.

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You're the first to wake up from your slumber. You don't even remember falling asleep. After having enough of lounging in the boat, you took Wanda on another hike. At the very top, you packed food along with a blanket. You and Wanda sat under the shade, watching the horizon just beyond the valley with soft talks about hopes and dreams.

There's a sadness in Wanda that you don't think will ever go away, but you watch her with slow eyes as she talks about how it would be wonderful to exist in a tiny evergreen lush island.

Wanda has a lovely complexion with rosy cheeks as she looks at her hands, talking about an island that may only exist in her dreams. Her long lashes draw you in, and you wonder if it's terrible of you to notice such things.

You check your watch, noticing you only slept for half an hour, and look over to Wanda, who is curled against you. She sleeps peacefully as there's still plenty of daylight out. You look up, the sun passing through the leaves and branches above you.

Wanda sniffles slightly in her sleep. You turn over to find the girl shiver just once, shuffling closer to you to seek warmth.

As you take your jacket off to drape it over her, you wonder how and when you got pulled under Wanda's spell.

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The day comes to a quiet end after dinner and sitting by the campfire. The wonderful thing about your car is that you can push the back seat down and make a little bed to rest in.

The back is filled with pillows and blankets, and as you have your pillow propped up with your back against it, you can look out the back window of your car and into the skyline outside.

Perhaps it's because the two of you have slept most of the day, but sleep doesn't come as easily at night. You've got your Bluetooth speaker playing music in the background to relax you.

"I can't sleep," Wanda mumbles and sits up. You chuckle as Wanda props her pillow up, too, with a sigh.

She rests her head back, looking through the sunroof, and gazes at the stars.

"Do you want me to turn off the music?" You ask, but Wanda shakes her head, hair falling from her ear as she does.

"No, I probably napped too much today."

"Our sleep schedule is going to get fucked if we keep napping during the day," you snicker. "I guess we should find more things to do during the day than a hike. I was thinking maybe we could start going into town to do things."

"Like what?" Wanda asks.

You shrug. "Go to museums, actually eat at a restaurant, watch movies in a theatre. I don't know. Anything we want to, I guess."

Wanda gnaws on her lips because all those things sound like a date, and her fingers thrum against the floor in anticipation. She looks at you, blinking while you stare back, unsure.

"I'm cold," Wanda states, leaving you in confusion.

"Oh, uh..." You stutter, feeling your body tense. "Do you want more blankets? A sweater?"

Wanda stares at you with a tilt of her head. "No."

You press your lips together, opening the blanket just a little from where you are, and offer your arms to the other girl. Wanda may be using all the courage she has, and you realize now is not the time to be dense.

And it's worth it when Wanda can't help but smile as she scoots closer into your arms as you hold her, pulling the blanket up to her shoulder.

There's a certain tingle on your skin. A pit in your stomach, a warmth that spreads through your chest when Wanda's body presses against yours. The way she lies against across your chest while you cradle her in your arms. The smell of cinnamon and orange blossoms permeate the air you breathe, and even though you're in the middle of nowhere, you feel like you're home.

Wanda sighs in contentment. She likes the way you don't say anything else, and the only words that float through your mind are lyrics from the song playing in the background.

The hours pass like it's nothing, and soon, the sun rises steadily. The sky becomes a palette of colors you've seen a million times. You've seen every color of the sky. But seeing everything again with Wanda is different.

You hold Wanda tighter in your arms, becoming more daring as your fingers trail across her arm covered by her shirt. The scent of her hair flirts with you as your fingers trail up her arm until you trace her bare collarbone. The way Wanda breathes is noticeable, filling her chest as it rises and holds.

Your hand drops and Wanda tilts her head to look up at you.

The sky is no longer just pink and orange. It's cotton candy that trickles far and wide. It's the color that reflects off of Wanda's skin, hitting her eyes, and for a moment, you think you saw a glimpse into the future.

"Why me?"

The question holds nothing but soft wondering. Within the words, Wanda suspects you mean why did she ask to come with you that day?

Why now?

Wanda licks her bottom lip.

"Why did you say yes?" She counters back.

You don't say anything. You try to think of an answer, but nothing comes to your head. The truth is you don't know why. You just looked at her that day, and you couldn't have pictured yourself saying no.

Wanda shifts, looking back at the sunrise.

"Did Stephen ever tell you there's millions and millions of realities out there?"

You sigh with a grimace, "Yes, so many times."

Wanda chuckles raspily, and you feel the vibrations against your chest.

"It's strange, isn't it? To think so many versions of you exist out there, that every reality would be different from the one we exist in today," Wanda lifts her hand from out the blanket, holding up and letting the sunlight filter through her fingers.

You don't say anything and only listen to Wanda because this may be the most she's spoken since coming on this trip.

"I loved Vision," Wanda says finally. "I don't think I will ever find a love I had with him again."

You blink, unsure what to make of that statement. You understand it, you really do. You'll always be understanding of her grief, and yet, your tight arms around her begin to feel awkward.

Wanda chuckles again, dropping her hand back down on your arm to keep it in place. "And that's okay."

"I have lost so much," Wanda's breath shutters for a moment. "We both have."

You swallow slowly, trying to not like the pang of pain distract you.

"But as much as I have lost, I've always gained something. I've lost my parents, and that led to gaining powers. I've lost my home country, but I gained a family with the Avengers. I've lost Pietro, and I gained Vision. I've lost Vis," Wanda swallows, "And I gained you."

"So, when you ask why you," Wanda licks her lips, "It's because I'm no stranger to loss. Even though grief has come to my door again, I know something good when I see it. And I saw you. I saw this moment."

"This moment?" You scrunch your brows together. It's such an odd moment to see, and yet so much of Wanda's behavior over the last six months made more sense.

Wanda sits up, turning to face you as the blanket draped over her slides down her back. Hands pressed against the ground on either side of your legs, she leans in close. You catch specks of the sky in her eyes, but this one isn't just the cotton candy that's just outside.

You catch specks of all the beautiful lush green trees you've seen. The sea and the sand the waves push up against. You see the white sun and shy hands that inch closer until they meet.

A hand touches your jaw, shyly sliding further until Wanda holds your cheek.

"Are you cold?" She murmurs, feeling the lack of warmth from sitting upright the entire night.

"Yeah," You mumble as Wanda leans closer and closer until you can feel her breath on your lips.

"I'll keep you warm," Wanda whispers, and you feel the brush of her lips. "Hold me closer."

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"You know, I wish there was a way– that I could let her know. That we won." Clint looks over at Wanda. "We did it."

"She knows--they both do." The rim of Wanda's eyes is red as she looks out onto the lake. Clint gives her a side hug that she returns for a long minute.

"You know where to reach me if you need me," you mutter, turning to leave the two alone.

Wanda looks at your retreating form. You didn't shed a single tear at the funeral, but she did not blame you. She had recognized that kind of grief on herself once upon a time, and she knows it's the kind that hurts more than any crying could.

Clint eventually bids his farewell and takes off, leaving her alone to gaze out onto the lake.

More tears well up, and Wanda isn't sure if she should let them fall or will them to magically go back into her eyes. It seems she decided too slow, and the tears well over down her cheeks as someone comes to stand next to her.

He takes a deep breath, holding his hands behind his back.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he politely passes his condolences.

"Me too," Wanda says without breaking her view.

It's silent for another minute.

"You know," Stephen squints as if that will let him see further. "I went through 14 million realities to see which one where we would win and only came out with one."

"If this is supposed to make me better, it's not--"

"Hear me out," Stephen cuts Wanda off. "In every reality that we manage to bring everyone back, including the one where we win, there was only one thing consistent."

Wanda laughs humorlessly. "And what's that?"

"You are grieving, yes, but," Stephen turns to face Wanda, causing her to turn to him as well. "You gain something so, so very beautiful."

Wanda's brows furrows, confused at what Stephen is trying to hint at. It isn't until he turns his attention to something that she turns too, stunned.

It's you, slowly packing your car.

"Strange, isn't it?" Stephen muses like he's talking to himself. "14 million realities, and every single one you return in, you gain her."

Wanda stares at you, unsure what to make of what Stephen is telling her.

"Why her?" She mumbles.

Stephen grins.

"I think you're a smart girl, Wanda," he tells her without answering her question. "I think if you let yourself, you'll see something good. You'll see her, even if you are grieving."

Stephen places his hand on her shoulder, giving her an encouraging squeeze before he walks away.

Wanda stands there, still looking at you while she tilts her head just to the side slightly.

And she's not sure what happens, but she sees something in her head.

A cotton candy sky, the light barely visible. She sees pillows and blankets in the back of a car. She hears the same song playing over and over in the background.

Wanda sees you.

She sees you in a light she's never had before, in a way she didn't think was ever possible.

"I'm cold," you whine, and Wanda sees herself smiling as she leans closer.

"I'll keep you warm," she sees herself bold and wanting. "Hold me closer."

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff imagine #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch imagine #wanda x reader #avengers imagine #mm: my fics #genre: fluff

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jonahlovescoffee · 4 years

Text

Multitasking | J.M.

a/n: kinda cringe? idk but i don’t wanna let it stay in my drafts either so yeah lol happy reading <3

summary: you wanted jonah’s attention and he’ll give it to you, even though he’s on a phone call.

warnings: smut without coitus bc i’m lazy to write that part-

word count: 3040

“Jonah, your lovely girlfriend is here,” you chirped happily when you entered his house a spring in your step, excited to finally be able to spend some alone time with him, something you hadn’t done lately because of him being busy with all the necessary preparations for the new album’s release while your schoolwork had been taking up too much of your time. However, your face fell immediately when you were greeted with the sight of him on his phone, chatting away with someone. It was supposed to be just the two of you today making full use of the rarely empty house. His face lit up when he saw you, but he made no move to end the call. You nudged your head towards his phone with your arms crossed in front of your chest, urging him to end it or else you’ll choose to end him instead.

“Just one more second, I promise,” he told you, pulling you down to give you a quick kiss in a weak attempt to wipe the evident scowl off your face. “It’s important.”

You rolled your eyes and plopped down on the empty seat next to him. “Fine, but make it quick,” you prompted, taking your phone out to hopefully find some ways to entertain yourself for the time being. He wrapped an arm around you in a silent apology, which you responded with laying your head on his shoulder as he continue talking.

“Yeah, y/n just came over,” he said and you heard a vaguely familiar voice speaking from the other side of the phone, but the sound was too muffled for you to decipher it into coherent words. “Daniel, we can talk about your music ideas another day.”

You internally groaned when you heard the name of your friend’s boyfriend and the mention of music ideas because you knew Daniel long enough to know that it always took ages for him to finish rambling about all his new musical creations. You usually wouldn’t complain about that because you were a huge music buff yourself and having the chance to discuss music with someone as enthusiastic as him was a gift from god but he should know that now wasn't the right time to do so.

Another reply came from the other end of the phone. Jonah seemed to hesitate for a while before offering an answer this time, glancing sideways at you to make sure that you weren’t about to explode with anger. You sighed but sent him a soft smile and he mouthed a silent “you’re the best” in return. “Okay, okay, let’s hear it then,” his hand found yours and gave it a light squeeze.

You scrolled through your chat log to find Emily’s contact, before sending her a message to ask for help. Is there any way you can shut your boyfriend up? Because he is stealing mine from me.

A reply came mere seconds later. LOL I’ll see what I can do.

Just when you were about to thank her, your phone vibrated and another message from her appeared on the screen. Fuck. The studio door is locked and I forgot where he keeps the keys.

You swore the next time you saw Daniel, you were going to hurl all six feet of him into the pool and make him drown. Wow, I can’t believe my luck today.

Don’t be such a whiner. You can try to make Jonah pay attention to you instead ;) She suggested and an idea popped into your head right away.

Have I ever told you how much I love you?

Ahh I love you more bb <3 was the last reply from her before she went offline, the green dot beside her profile picture disappearing.

You put your phone back into your bag and turned towards your boyfriend to find him still deeply engrossed in his conversation. You shrugged his arm off you and moved your body to assume the position on top of one of his thick muscular thighs, facing him. He raised an inquisitive brow. You wrapped your arms around his middle and nuzzled into his neck, inhaling the alluring scent of him that did nothing but fed your lust.

“I want you so bad,” you whined softly, earning a stroke of your hair from him, his hand subsequently sliding downwards to rest at the small of your back, his touch leaving a trail of goosebumps down your spine.Your hands did their own exploring too, your fingers tracing the curves and edges of his shoulder blades down to his biceps, humming in satisfaction at all the new muscle you found beneath your fingertips. He hadn’t been joking when he told you that he had been working out a whole lot more lately. The more of him that you felt, the more uncomfortable your southern region became.

Jonah felt it all—the heartbeat between your thighs, the wetness that seemed to be soaking through your pants, the subtle grinding of your body against his thigh, and how the member in his pants seemed to awaken at your movements. Suddenly Daniel’s words through the phone didn’t seem to make sense when they entered his brain that was currently a complete mess. He put his phone away for a moment to whisper into your ear, “Look at you, can’t even go a few minutes without wanting something, huh, baby?” His voice was husky and deep, exactly the way you loved it, and you almost came from the sound alone. He used his hand to help you rock harder against his thigh, urging you to speed up which you did willingly, finally able to relieve some of the pain from your core.

Your whimper was enough to answer his question. He kissed the tip of your nose. “Ride my thigh, sweetheart,” he ordered, brushing a thumb over your lips. “But be a good girl for me and be as quiet as you can, okay?”

You nodded obediently and he returned to his phone call like nothing ever happened. You bit your bottom lip forcefully in order to prevent moans after moans from escaping as you, the friction between your clit and his thigh putting your mind in a blissful daze. “Fuck…” you breathed near his ear, the sound taking him by surprise making him stop talking mid-sentence, hazel eyes glancing to the side to see your half-lidded eyes and lip that was colored in a shade of bright red from sinking your teeth into it too hard, completely forgetting what he was planning to say to his friend.

“Jonah?” Daniel’s voice sounded, snapping Jonah back to his senses.

“Yes? wait a moment bro, got something to settle first, be right back,” he said, placing his phone on the armrest of the couch to focus on you. “Feels good baby?”

“Uh huh,” you said, not expecting him to bounce his knee in a steady rhythm afterwards with so much vigor that you instinctively moved your hands to his shoulders to steady yourself, rolling your hips as you ground yourself down on him hungrily. Feeling your greedy little hole clamping down around nothing as you felt your climax nearing.

“What about now?” he drawled, chuckling darkly when you started to let all sorts of whimpers and mewls fall from your lips. “Tell me, pretty little slut, how good I’m making you feel,” he lifted a hand up to your face to trace your jaw tenderly. Once. Then twice. Then replacing his touch with his lips.

“So fucking amazing, Jo,” you could barely get the words out as you unabashedly ground yourself down against him, eyes rolling to the back of your head at the overwhelming sensation, gasping in surprise when his palm moved to spank your ass. The movement made you grind against his firm thigh perfectly as you forgot his earlier warning to stay quiet and cried out.

“Shh, keep it down, baby,” he coaxed, his lips curving into a smirk as he beheld your desperation to chase your high, each of your movements getting sloppier than the last. “He can still hear you, you know?”

Another whimper. “I...I’m close, Jo,” you managed to say before grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and burying your face in the crook of his neck, though the movement of your hips remained unfaltered.

He tilted his head a little to press a kiss into your hair. “Cum for me all over my thigh, sweetheart.”

Jonah’s husky voice was the catalyst you needed to send you hurtling over the edge, feeling that coil inside you snap as your orgasm washed over you, his name spilling from your lips in a loud cry, your toes curling as you were completely engulfed in ecstasy. His grasp on your waist remained strong as he continued bouncing his knee, slightly slower than before, not allowing you to move back as he kept grinding your cunt against him, letting you ride out your high. “Shh, you’re getting too loud, baby,” he placed a finger on your lips when you continued moaning his name repeatedly as your puffy clit got overstimulated, although he absolutely loved the way his name rolled off your tongue like a prayer. He felt a certain something straining harder against his designer jeans, yearning to break free.

“Look at what a mess you made because you couldn’t wait for me to finish my phone call,” he tisked disapprovingly, his gaze dropping to his thigh, his hooded hazel eyes looking between your bodies at the darkened wet stain you had left against said jeans with glee, even more when he saw your pants that were utterly soaked with your release. He stopped bouncing his knee then, earning a dissatisfied whine from you. “Enough of thigh riding, sweetheart, your pants are ruined,” he grabbed his phone and released his grasps on you before whispering, “Now turn around. Let me help you get them off you.”

You did as he told, your back now leaning against his chest as he pushed your pants down, followed by your panties and you kicked off both of the garments when they pooled at your knees. He raised his phone towards his ear as his other hand glided over the swell of your hips to your front, his knuckles brushing over your core gently. He started drawing slow circles over your clit with the pads of his fingers, causing you to arch your back into him more.

“Nah, it’s nothing serious. Wes just broke another glass again, that’s all,” he lied to his best friend, the pace of his fingers increasing as he put more pressure on your clit, making you a squirming mess in his arm. Unable to keep you steady with only one arm around you, he put his phone on speaker mode and placed it back onto the armrest before sliding the now free arm around your waist.

“You sure? Because I heard...umm...something and it sounds nothing like shattering glass,” Daniel stated, but Jonah remained pretty unfazed unlike you whose breath caught in your throat immediately, dreading the possibility of getting caught. However, all your worries were immediately forgotten when he dragged a finger ever so gently up your glistening folds that were already slick with your juices. You instinctively rolled your hips against his finger, yearning for as much friction as he could offer.

“Then you must’ve heard wrong. Now, where were we?” Jonah said nonchalantly before sliding a finger into you and your jaw fell slack as you moaned at the sudden intrusion. He pumped his finger slowly to stretch you out but you weren’t content with it. You wanted more so you let your hand travel to your bundle of nerves but before you could do anything, he grabbed your wrist with his free hand. Words didn’t need to be conveyed between the both of you for you to get his message just from the look he gave you that clearly said he didn’t want you to interfere.

“Okay, so I thought of this melody…” you tuned them out, solely focusing on the overwhelming pleasure that he gave you with nothing more than a finger and before you knew it, you could feel your walls clenching harder around it that continued to thrust in and out of you non-stop as he maintained a casual conversation with his best friend.

“Nngh, Jonah,” you whined, “Faster, faster, gosh.”

“Quiet,” he whispered sternly between his sentences just as he slipped another finger into you and you bit his neck on instinct to stifle your moans, making him groan right in the middle of their conversation.

“What the actual fuck was that?!” Daniel exclaimed in horror.

“Nothing,” he shot you a glare but your eyes were screwed shut with pleasure so you couldn’t see it. “But I really really have to go now, bro, I’m so sorry.”

“Wait a minute,” Daniel said just as Jonah’s finger hovered inches above the red end-call button. “Is y/n there with you? Like right next to you?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Please don’t tell me you guys were...umm...doing it while you were talking to me because the weird sounds kinda sound like,” an obvious gulp. “Her.”

“Daniel what is wrong with you today? First you hear weird noises then now you’re trying to accuse me and my girl for having sex while I’m on the phone with you? Well lemme tell you something, Daniel,” Jonah’s fingers thrusted into you quicker, matching the swift pace of his thumb that was furiously rubbing your clit, making you a writhing mess on his lap. Soft moans left your lips since you were unable to compress all of the sounds that threatened to escape.

“Y/N and I would never,” He slammed his fingers knuckles deep into you. “Ever,” His fingers curled inside you and you sucked in a shaky breath. “Do something like that,” He started doing patting motions, hitting all the right places, almost making you scream as your eyes rolled to the back of your head in ecstasy, unable to focus on anything else save for the overwhelming pleasure that he gave you. “Right, love?”

He has to be joking. He can’t seriously expect you to—

“Open your mouth and talk, baby,” Jonah’s voice was soft but authoritative when he spoke into your ear, a smirk present on his face. He knew that it was nearly impossible for you to do anything, especially talking, when you were so close to your climax but all in all, he was still someone who loved testing and pushing you past your limits.

“Yes...I...we,” you stuttered as you whimpered softly after each word, his fingers never stopped working their magic inside you. He placed kisses all the way up to your ear from your shoulders before starting to nibble your earlobe. You couldn’t search for the right words to say, let alone speak without giving away the fact that you and Jonah were indeed doing it while having his conversation with Daniel. “We are not doing anything,” you got all your words out in one breath, a little too fast for them to sound extremely convincing but still good enough for Jonah to give you an approving hum.

“Good girl,” Jonah cooed, his voice alone making your entire body tingle with pleasure. “Now end the call,” he attached his lips onto the sensitive spot under your ear, nibbling and sucking it softly, pushing another moan out of you.

“But—”

“No ‘but’s, baby,” a kiss on your shoulder again. “You don’t want me to not let you cum, do you?”

You couldn’t find the energy in you to argue with him, not when release was threatening to spill out of you.

“Bye, Daniel,” you said breathlessly.

“Just so you know, I still don’t believe that—”

“I said bye, Daniel,” you cut Daniel off before he could continue rambling about not trusting your words, reaching over to Jonah’s phone to end the call.

Jonah smiled when the screen of his phone turned black but his following words were nowhere near happy.

“Such a good girl, aren’t you? Always so obedient when you want me to give you what you want,” he snarled. “But what about just now, hmm? You were so loud, so impatient, always wanting more than what I gave.”

“So do you think you deserve to cum, dear?”

“Sorry, it just felt too good,” you whimpered, already on the verge of tears, when you felt the knot in your stomach tightening. “I won’t behave like this again, Jo so please—“

He pressed his lips onto yours, cutting your pleas off with a brief kiss. “Alright, I’ll let you off the hook just this once. Let it all out now, baby.”

And just like that, you released for the second time all over his thigh and he took his fingers out of you and licked them clean, groaning at how wonderful you tasted. “Fuck, you taste so good. It's totally worth ruining my jeans for this.”

“But I wanna taste yours too,” you whined and he smirked.

“Hmm,” he laid you down on the couch and crawled over you, a hand already at the zipper of his pants to pull it down. “Think you’re still able to take my dick?”

“Always,” you yanked him closer by the front of his shirt, wanting to bring his lips to yours but before your lips even touched, a series of meows sounded suddenly.

Both of you turned towards the source of the sound simultaneously to find Wes standing at the corner of the living room, staring at you both intently with his wide, curious cat eyes.

“You know what? Maybe we should do this elsewhere,” you gave a suggestion with an uncomfortable grimace.

He zipped his pants before moving back into a sitting position, which you mirrored. He patted his lap and you went to sit on it right away. “Or,” a teasing grin was plastered on his face as he wiggled his eyebrows playfully at you. “We could ask Wes to join in too.”

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT YOU PSYCHOTIC PERVERT!” you screamed in disgust and hit him with the couch pillow you grabbed from beside you.

taglist: @chilling-seavey @neralondon @mia-marais @randomlimelightxxx @hopinglimelight @kvd963 @cutiebandlover202 @savspersonalproperty @slowdownatthelotusinn @angelzacharyy @freakshows199 @my-fangirling-outlet

#wdw #why dont we #corbyn besson #daniel seavey #jack avery #jonah marais #why don’t we #zach herron #wdw imagines #jonah marais imagines #jonah marais x reader #jonah marais smut

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years

Text

Shades of Pink

Request: Hi! Can I request a Harry Potter x reader oneshot where the reader is a metamorphomagus (sorry if I mispelled) and her hair changes to a certain color when she's around Harry bc she's in love with him? preferably set during their howarts years, thanks in advance!

A/N: I love this request, I love writing for Harry so much bc he’s so awkward and bumbling! I hope I’ve done it justice and that it meets your expectations! ALSO! Two fics in one night! I’d like to thank the Mamma Mia soundtracks as well as the Moulin Rouge! soundtrack for making this possible. It couldn't be done without you <3 I’d like to take the time it apologise to my taglist for another notification from me, please don’t hate me too much. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy reading! Love to you all! Banner by the incredibly talented @peachesandpinks

Pairing: Harry Potter x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing and fluff - lots of fluff.

Word count: 1.9k

In the mornings your hair is a warm brown as the heaviness of sleep still lingers.

By breakfast, it’s turned to a neon pink that draws attention from all tables in the Great Hall. It only gets brighter as you sit down next to Harry.

As a young metamorphmagus, the changes were still unpredictable, and the added combination of hormones and first love made it all the more difficult to hide your feelings.

Falling for Harry felt entirely natural; as if your love for The Chosen One was part of your genetic makeup. It had taken one smile, that was all. He smiled at you in Third Year as you were arguing with Ron, and you were a goner. That had been three years ago; now in your Sixth Year, it was safe to say you were half way in love with the messy-haired teenager.

“What’s caused your hair to change colours this morning?” Hermione asks, taking a bite of her toast, “It was brown when we woke up.”

You stare at your plate as you mumble, “It’s when I get overwhelmed by my feelings. I’m still trying to control it all.”

Hermione’s eyes cast over the two boys sitting with them, clueless to the conversation, “Do you have a crush on someone?” she whispers.

You bite your lower lip, nodding. Hermione has to clasp a hand over her mouth to keep the happy squeak from leaving her lips; she spent so much time with Harry and Ron that it was nice to be involved in a conversation that didn’t revolve around Quidditch.

“Who? Who is it that’s turning your hair pink?”

You let your eyes slip to Harry, sipping at his morning pumpkin juice, nodding along with whatever Ron was saying, without a clue to your feelings. Hermione catches on immediately; they don’t call her the brightest witch of her age for nothing.

“This is perfect!” She almost shouts; ignoring your wide eyes.

“How?”

“He likes you back! He told me the other night!”

You don’t get a chance to reply. Harry’s hand lands on your shoulder, pulling all of your attention to him. If possible, your hair gets even pinker. He smiles at you, “Come on, we don’t want to be late for Potions, it isn’t worth the looks from Slughorn.”

You sigh, taking a last drink of your orange juice, “I suppose not.”

Hermione and Ron strike up a conversation behind you and Harry; Hermione pestering Ron over whether he plans to complete his homework for this week or let it gather dust.

You and Harry walk close together; hands brushing every now and then and you can’t ignore the jolt of electricity sent up your arm sending your heart racing. Alongside your hair changing colour when feelings overwhelmed you, it would also grow at unprecedented rates.

“(Y/N)?” Harry calls.

“Yes?”

“Is your hair supposed to be growing that fast?”

“Merlin’s beard!” You shout, your hands flying to your hair where it was now cascading down your back. You sigh, “No, Harry, it isn’t supposed to be doing that.”

“Oh… alright. Do you need to go sort it out? I’ll tell Slughorn that you’ll be late.”

“That’s sweet of you, Harry but no, I’ll be fine, I just need a minute.”

He nods, stopping in the corridor to wait with you. Ron and Hermione also stop with you; all watching you as you close your eyes and begin to calm yourself down.

Hermione grabs your hand and squeezes once, understanding your current predicament. you were finding it to concentrate with the very reason for your distraction watching you with concern written all over his face.

You refuse to open your eyes as you ask, “How does it look?”

“It’s still neon pink, if that’s what you were concerned about,” Ron says.

You sigh again, opening your eyes, “It’ll stay pink for a while. I was more concerned about the length; I didn’t want to be tripping over it as I walked to class.”

Hermione smiles, squeezing your hand once more before letting it drop, “It’s back to your shoulders.”

“How do you do that?” Harry asks, voice somewhat breathless with wonder.

“It starts to grow out when I become overwhelmed over something. I try to control it by taking deep breaths and thinking of calming things.”

“You’re wonderful,” He blurts out, blushing once he realises what he says.

Ron claps him on the shoulder, failing to hold in his laughter, “You’re proper smooth, you, Potter.”

Hermione smacks him on the arm with her book, “Shut up, Ronald! He’s smoother than you at least.”

Ron splutters as Hermione continues to look at him unimpressed. Harry hasn’t taken his eyes off you.

You clear your throat, ending the argument between the two of them, “We’re late for Potions.”

The four of you fall into silence as you run to the classroom where Slughorn greets with you with five points from Gryffindor each for tardiness and a look of disappointment.

Sitting in your assigned seat, you try to focus on the lesson that Slughorn is delivering but your mind keeps flashing back to the moment that happened not even ten minutes ago. To the look on Harry’s face as he watched you change your appearance.

Catching sight of your face in the glass cupboards, you’re pleased to see that your hair has faded to a baby pink. Much better than the neon pink you were sporting as you entered the classroom. Taking a deep breath, you turn away from your reflection and try to focus on Slughorn and recognising the side effects of Amortentia.

How fitting.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Gryffindor common room is quiet as you lounge on the couch in front of the fire. Your History of Magic essay laid out in front of you. You read over your words, hoping they form a convincing argument surrounding the witch hunts of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and whether it was a purposeful event triggered by other magical creatures to keep muggles off their scent.

You yawn as you read and reread your conclusion; hoping that it sounds strong enough for Professor Binns to mark it as Outstanding. Giving your eyes a break, you look around the common room seeing a few students here and there, all focused on their own work.

You catch eyes with Harry as he lands on the last step of the staircase leading to the dormitories. The way his eyes move upwards tells you that your hair has turned to the neon pink that you’ve become so familiar with these past few years.

Harry smiles at you as he joins you on the couch. You chide yourself as your heart begins to race and your hands become sweaty.

“History of Magic?” Harry asks, reading over the title of your essay.

You nod, moving the pile of parchment so he has room to sit down, “I wanted to get it done while I had the motivation.”

“I should probably take a leaf from your book.” He laughs, thinking of the pile of essays he has yet to complete.

“It’s not a bad idea, Potter. I don’t mind helping you, you know that.”

“I know,” He says, softly.

You turn away from him, focusing on the roaring fire in front of you. Your eyes follow the imaginary shapes the flames make as they devour the logs beneath them.

“I meant what I said this morning,” Harry whispers.

“You did?”

“You’re wonderful and entirely colourful.”

Your feelings start to be too much; your feelings for the boy sat next to you become too much.

“I think I’ve seen your hair about a thousand shades of pink, but I have no clue what it mean.” Harry murmurs, reaching out to grab a strand your hair, curling it around his finger before letting it drop back to your shoulder.

It’s such a loving move that you almost internally combust.

Harry looks you in the eyes, “What does pink mean?”

You cough, clearing your throat, “Truthfully?”

“Truthfully.”

“It means love.”

Harry’s eyes widen, “Love?”

“Yeah, it means love. The brighter the pink gets, the more overwhelmed I am.”

“It’s pink when you talk to me.” He says, making the connection at last.

You start to play with your fingers, refusing to look him in eye, “Yeah, I know.”

“You love me?” He asks, one of his hands reaching to grab one of your hands.

You take a deep breath, meeting his blue-eyes head on, “I do.”

He releases a breath, “Thank Merlin! I’ve liked you for so long.”

“You have?”

Harry nods, wildly, “Since Fourth Year – after the first task in the Triwizard Tournament when you were ready to duel Dumbledore after you saw how injured I was.”

“I would have as well if you’d have let me. I’m still pissed about it.”

Harry grins, “What about you?”

“Since Third Year. It sounds silly, but you smiled at me over breakfast when I was arguing with Ron and I was a goner.”

“It’s not silly at all,” Harry says quietly, rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand.

You smile at him, happy that you had finally told him how you felt. You were ecstatic that he felt the same way.

He shuffles closer to you; his thigh now lining up against yours. “I want to try something, if that’s okay?”

You whisper your consent, not daring to speak any louder. Not for the fear of someone hearing, but for the fear of breaking the bubble you find both of you in.

His hand cradles your cheek; his touch soft, as if he’s not entirely certain this is happening. You lean into his touch, savouring the feel of his hand on your face.

His eyes search yours for permission; you nod, a small movement but it’s enough for him. He leans in and presses his lips to yours hesitantly; testing the waters. He doesn’t expect you to gasp against his mouth; your body reacting instinctively to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to keep him close to you. Harry gets more confident, relishing in your reaction to him. His mouth becomes more insistent, and he starts to press you into the couch. His body hovering over yours; lips still connected. There was nothing but raw emotion in the way Harry’s hands began to travel down your body; committing to memory every dip and curve in your body.

Some distant part of your brain knew that you would have to pull away soon before things could go further, but the feel of his hands and his lips were distracting you perfectly. And you soon found yourself not really caring whether you were creating a scene for the whole common room to watch.

Someone clearing their throat has you pulling away from each other, gasping for air. Looking over the back of the couch, both Ron and Hermione stand a few feet away from the couch; the look on Hermione’s face tells you it was not her that had interrupted.

Ron grins, asking, “Were you enjoying yourself, (Y/N)?”

“I was before we were interrupted,” You frown.

“I love this colour on you by the way, it suits you.” Ron chuckles, pointing to your hair. He pulls Hermione away before you can reply, but she offers you a wide smile as she follows the Weasley out of the room.

You groan, “It’s neon pink isn’t it?”

Harry barks out a laugh, “It is, but guess what?”

“What?” You asks, peeking out from his neck, where you had hidden your face.

Harry kisses you lightly – once, twice, three times, before replying, “It’s my favourite shade of pink.”

*********

General (HP) taglist: @the-hufflefluffwriter @obsessedwithrandomthings @kalimagik @summer-writes @lupins-sweater @slytherinprincess03 @mischiefsemimanaged @soleil-amaryllis @masterofthedarkness @bforbroadway @chaotic-fae-queen @peachesandpinks @nebulablakemurphy @haphazardhufflepuff @siriusly-addicted-to-writing

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jangofctts · 4 years

Note

thinking about leaving lipstick marks or hickies on sweets and then the other sunburst boys seeing the marks on him and being like :O "IS OUR BOY GETTING LAID!?!?!" just absolute LAD ENERGY as the crowd him. (also is you make sweets some baked goods or anything he gotta hide em because mfs WILL SNIFF THEM OUT AND TRY TO TAKE THEM)

THIS IS SO ADORABLE AND AHHHH YES sweets has little secret hiding places he stashes his food bc those boYS are piranhAS--even blanche goes feral for the baked goods kejrhkejh ALSO I WROTE YOU A LITTLE DRABBLE

ct-5337 sweets / reader

a/n: no warnings just shits and giggles jekewjhr

He leaves your apartment in the early morning, the sky still an indigo blue, polluted with the flashing neon lights and the jets of passing ships overhead. The window by your bed is cracked open, the cool air is sweet and humid, swelling with the promise of rain later. Sweets sweeps his eyes over to you.

You’re still asleep, a mess of blankets twisted around your body--his lips quirk. You look like a burrito.

Sweets sits himself on the edge of the bed and skims his fingers over your forehead. He tucks a stray hair behind your ear and kisses your temple. Lovers look so much softer when they sleep, he thinks--and you’re no exception. His own personal angel with lips made from threads of gold and eyes the color of his own personal galaxy. He’s tempted to wake you, kiss you properly--but he knows that’ll only bring a harder goodbye. He hates it when you cry.

Your eyebrows pinch together as he plants another kiss over your hairline, grumbling in your sleep and attempting to wiggle away in your swath of blankets from the disturbance. Sweets sighs and leaves your tiny apartment, silent as a shadow with the gift you gave him tucked under his arm.

This time he wont let his brothers pick him clean. It’s his present after all. Baked especially for him. A sweet treat for your Sweets, you told him.

He smiles under his helmet and by the time he reaches the temple, the sun is barely crawling over the horizon. He makes it into his assigned barracks without a blip but kriff--he should've left your apartment earlier.

The shuffle of plastoid is deafening in the small space as the squad sluggishly pulls on their armor. The swoosh of the blast doors shutting behind him draw some tired eyes towards him and drift to box he holds. Damnit.

“Mornin’, Sweets,” Kami greets. He fists his eyes and stretches his back with a loud yawn. “You’re up early.”

“Went on a walk,” Sweet’s shrugs, nonchalant and planning out a sixteen step maneuver to reach his bunk and stash away the cookies before his brothers realize what he has.

“Or he never came home at all last night,” The medic’s ever sharp eyes pinpoint the box he holds. With a wink, said medic saunters over with a greasy smile. Void throws an arm around Sweets’ shoulders and jostles his arm. “Say--how ‘bout you gimme one of those cookies and I guarantee, I’ll give ya the good bacta next time you’re hurt.”

“’M pretty sure that’s medical malpractice,” Jaws mumbles, still curled up in his bunk. He grunts as Bruiser whacks a pillow over his head with a firm thwunk.

“Get up, asshat--you’re sitting on my blacks.”

Distracted with warding off Void’s nimble fingers, he’s too late to realize Fuse has weaseled his way behind him--his heart stutters has Fuse’s fingers pull at his collar, revealing the smatter of hickies down the line of his throat.

“Ohoho,” Fuse snickers. “That’s not the only sugar Sweets brought home. Is it?”

A mountain of shocked faces swing towards Sweets--slack jawed and resembling a school of fish. His cheeks flush a deep red as he dips his chin and glowers at the tips of his boots in embarrassment. Bruiser is the first one to laugh. He slaps a large hand over Sweets’ head, nearly crushing his cranium, as he ruffles his hair.

“Sweets is getting laid!” The heavy gunner belts, the ends of his scars scrunching around his eye as he grins. “And they baked cookies for you! Wish I could get someone like that--last time I went on a date, she stabbed me.”

Sweets bats away his brothers hands, and slinks to his bunk tucked away in the corner. Hiding the cookies under the bed will have to do for now. There’s a caterwaul of disbelieving objections and celebratory cheers that do nothing but embarrass. Oh, Maker--he wants to shrivel into a little ball and fade out of existence.

They all freeze and salute as the blast doors swoosh open to reveal Commander Blanche and Sergeant Blue. Blanche quirks a dark brow as Blue rolls his eyes and asks with an exasperated exhale. “Who’s getting laid?”

“Sweets.” His brothers accuse in unison.

His blush burns hotter than a wildfire as Blanche’s mismatched eyes focus on the sharpshooter.

Blanche’s shoulders jolt with a surprised huff. “Congratulations.”

“Thanks...” Sweets grumbles, pitching forward to bury his face into his pillow. It’s not as comfy as yours and it certainly doesn't smell like you either. Smells like mothballs and the GAR issued shampoo. His chest tightens with yearning.

Uhg.

Well...he saved the cookies at the expense of his pride. Sorta...depends on how you look at it.

Sweets sighs. Totally worth it.

#baby sweets gets bullied kwejkwej #ask #keida answers #pettyprocrastination #sunburst squadron #tcw oc #clone oc #clone trooper oc #clone trooper oc x reader #clone oc x reader #my writing

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prismaticpotentia · 2 years

Text

Outtakes

So, all the context for these is that sometimes while drawing I said funny things while talking to @bumblingbunny or other friends, and so this is those under a cut. Hope they make you laugh!

Harmony:

"...I was like 'Oh god how do ladies age I've only drawn old men'"

"I might give her shoujo bubbles and stuff in the bg."

Nyxa:

Elly:

(I didn't even remember her name right, shame on me.)

Johanna:

"Next is Dame Johanna because if I draw everyone before my own boy I won't forget to draw them!"

Harlequin:

Captain Dreadful:

Tristan:

Referencing this vine constantly:

vine

Princess Rosalie:

Just full on forget her eyebrows and queue that why don't I

Samuel:

"I'm glad you like the fruits of my insomnia except I keep forGETTING EYEBROWS"

"Now what the fuck will I have Samuel say. I may have to sleep on it."

"Bc Sammy boy wears a lot of black, nothing on him is really grayscale, his hair's midnight blue and his shirt's a black-purple so he does not turn into a blobule man."

Marcus:

"I just noticed that other than Harmony, he’s the only one with an unnatural hair color in game."

"I know if I was reading the an actual [Manwha] with them, it’d be a tossup between Sam and Marcus for who I’d want to win. But that is because I’m a simple gay"(Auryn did not exist yet)

"I cannot wait for Imortals Bitching At Each Other."

"Me, making Marcus: I love this hair! It's so pretty! Me, drawing Marcus: This hair makes no goddamn sense."

Princess Maisie:

Sadly I drew her when all my friends were asleep and said no funny things.

Prince Auryn:

"He's so pretty I'm getting mad about it, lol"

"Hey what if I drew ship bait"

Prince Dorian:

"That first picture was a different Prince OC with a D name, lol"

"I tried to make him look tired bc his curse causes him to cast from lifeforce."

(Talking about Auryn)

"Now black clothes forever lol"

"They won't be exactly black, in order to keep it from blobuling and losing all detail."

"Wait, shit, I forgot his beard Glad I fixed that before queuing it"

The Merchant:

"I love that someone made an in-game merchant"

"Unexpected problems when I committed to drawing all the entrants for this just because:

Everyone looks good in black so everyone puts their sims in black.

There's only so many variations of black and brown hair you can do before people look related when they shouldn't.

NPC Dialogue Hard

Feeling vaguely racist when both black lady characters have their tiddies on display but it's definitely not my fault.

Even though you know they didn't part of you wonders if design choices were made just to spite You, Specifically." (To clarify I love everyone's characters a whole lot even if choices frustrated me to figure out.)

"Lol I’ll take a break when I stop having fun. It’s mostly just I’ve been drawing entrants long enough to reach Weird Thought Zone."

Yadira:

"Idk why I decided to give her the kitty ear part, but she looks cute with it!"

"Making her expressive without a mouth was an interesting challenge!"

"Is it weird to say I like how her tits came out?"

"I feel like I also nailed the big titty lean we all do at high tables and bars where we just let that take the weight."

Fiadh:

"Fiadh is fighting me and I am about to lose it"

"Green is fine and good, red is HATE"

"I need to widen her chin a bit more. Honestly I love how square her features is, it's so unique and pretty."

"Also I can't wait for Dianthe to join the circle of people who Marcus can't hardly stand."

"I think I figured out how to fix what I hate of her upper hair."

"Fits more the "Messy curls hurriedly tied back" look I was going for."

"Ye, I started running out of good solid color ideas that wouldn't look too samey, so I started doing gradients."

Dianthe:

"I'm excited to make a flowy goddess dress."

"More nature-evoking than actual flowers bc [as] someone who has drawn many flowers before, Flowers Very Hard."

"Flowers Hard"

"This is the only video of just it I could find but I just picture this for Dianthe:"

youtube

"Me: Why is her forehead so huge and weird? Drawing: Doesn't fucking have eyebrows"

"She is in many pinks because spring goddess"

"Like, I get why everyone's in dark colors. Everyone looks good in black."

"But if I didn't change colors it would look like a Goth Rave."

#ooc post #hark! a nerd speaks #Youtube

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skullrock · 4 years

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the (secret) santa - Jonathan x Steve

12 days of fics day 2 - the (secret) santa

pairing: stonathan

summary: Steve is psyched to get Jonathan for Secret Santa, but has a hard time figuring out what to get him.

word count: 4.2k

warnings: simply none

a/n: Jonathan is Jewish here bc I love that headcanon <3 I used the Internet to tell me when Hanukkah was in 1986, and it said it was December 26th-January 3rd, so that's what I used! hope u enjoy <3 also I literally cannot find a good video to make a stonathan gif w sorry

30 days before Christmas; 31 days before Hanukkah

Steve knew Jonathan, but Steve didn’t know Jonathan. Not the way he’d like to, at least.

When he got Jonathan for Secret Santa, he was ecstatic. It seemed like the perfect way to get closer to him - to make things right, to see him in personal and intimate ways. Ways he has always wanted to. He was excited, until he realized that he didn’t know much about Jonathan, save that he made the bat Steve currently had in his trunk, liked to cook, was cute, and was a photographer. And Steve had already gotten Jonathan a camera, so that wasn’t a viable gift. Plus, the budget was twenty dollars.

Twenty dollars did not seem like enough money to spoil Jonathan Byers like he deserved.

So Steve did the only thing he knew how, which was talk, and try to be sneaky about it.

===

28 days before Christmas; 29 days before Hanukkah

“Jonathan!”

Jonathan and Will both turned on their heels to face the voice that had rung out. Will rolls his eyes when he sees Steve jogging towards them - of course it was Steve. And of course he wanted to talk to Jonathan. How neither of them saw it, he doesn’t know, but he climbs into the passenger seat to give them some space. They’ll get it soon enough.

“Hey,” Jonathan says, shoving his hands hastily into his pockets, as if he had something to hide. “What’s up?”

“Hey, man,” Steve pants, leaning forward just slightly and gripping his side. “Do you like music?”

“What?”

“You know?” Steve licks his lips. “Do you listen to music?”

Jonathan’s brows twitch together. “Yeah, I - I listen to music.”

“Me too.”

Jonathan stares, which is all he really knows how to do around Steve. Stare and observe. Take in the brunette and blonde locks, how they curl a bit on the end, how they all fall perfectly into place when Steve runs a tired hand through them. How his sweater is the color of red maple leaves in the fall, and how it clings to his shoulders. How that sweater rides up when Steve straightens, showing Jonathan the pale and smooth skin of his hips.

“What kind of music?”

Jonathan blinks and shoves his hands deeper into his pockets. He glances back to Will, smiling knowingly from the passenger seat, then back to Steve. “I kinda - I gotta take Will home.”

“Shit,” Steve mumbles, then bends forward to wave at Will. Jonathan’s still watching the way the sweater rides up. “Sorry, I didn’t know.”

“‘s okay,” Jonathan says with a bit of a laugh.

It’s at this point Jonathan realizes what’s going on. Steve was not very subtle about being his Secret Santa. And if that’s not it, then Steve is making an enormous effort to be Jonathan’s friend, and who is he to deprive him of that?

“The Smiths.”

“Who?”

“The Smiths,” he repeats. “And The Cure. Stuff like that.”

It takes Steve a moment to realize these are bands and not families in Hawkins. “Oh. Oh. Awesome. That’s so cool.”

There’s an awkward pause before Jonathan asks, “You?”

“Queen,” Steve says, almost immediately. “Yeah. Queen. And, like, other stuff, too.”

“Oh. Cool.”

“Yeah.”

Will knocks on the window and raises his eyebrows at Jonathan, because the sight was honestly a bit painful. Jonathan looks, then back to Steve. “I should -”

“Yeah,” Steve says again. “Yeah, go ‘head, don’t let me keep you.”

Jonathan doesn’t know why he feels so damn giddy, why a smile tugs at the corners of his thin lips, but it’s happening. He tucks his face towards the collar of his shirt as he rounds the car. “See you, Steve.”

“See you,” Steve calls back.

He wonders why Will is looking at him like that.

===

25 days before Christmas; 26 days until Hanukkah

There’s something about Jonathan Byers under the glow of Christmas lights.

Maybe it’s the mustard colored sweater he’s wearing, casting a warm glow on his face and illuminating the blonde in his hair. Maybe it’s just the holidays. Either way, Jonathan Byers looked beautiful, and it was just the two of them in Mike’s basement while the kids ran upstairs for snacks.

“Are you ready for Christmas?” Steve asks, his knee against Jonathan’s.

Jonathan bristles. “Oh, we celebrate Hanukkah.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers. “I - do you still do presents and stuff?”

“We do.” Jonathan shifts, bumping his knee against Steve’s again. “But we light the menorah and everything, too.”

“Oh.”

Steve mulls over the logistics of getting someone who is Jewish a Christmas present, but Jonathan luckily says, “So I could do the Secret Santa, because we still exchange presents. My family does, anyway.”

Steve hopes his sigh of relief isn’t too noticeable.

“What other things do you like?” Steve asks. “I - I just realized that we never really got to know each other.”

Jonathan feels himself about to smile again. “Music-wise?”

“Anything-wise.”

Jonathan doesn’t like talking about materialistic things, so he mumbles. Steve has to lean close to hear, and it makes his hair stand on end. “I like photography. And… peace.”

“Peace?” Steve smiles. “Past few years must have been real hell for you.”

Jonathan laughs mirthlessly. “Yeah, they were.” He takes a deep breath. “And I like drawing, sometimes. But Will’s better than me.”

Steve scoffs. “Doubt it.”

“What?”

“I - no. Shit. That’s not what I meant - I mean, like, I’m sure you’re good, too.”

Jonathan lets out a confused laugh. “Thanks.” He relaxes, and his knee is firm against Steve’s now, and both of their breaths hitch. “I really like seeing my friends happy. And I like seeing Will happy. And mom.” And you, he wants to say, but it’s caught half in his chest and half in his throat.

“How is your mom?”

Jonathan wasn’t expecting that. “She’s doing okay.”

“Good. Good.” There’s a sincerity behind Steve’s voice that Jonathan also wasn’t expecting, but that sends his heart soaring in his chest. “If you guys ever need anything….” Steve uses his thumb to point to himself as he turns to Jonathan to show how serious he was. “I’m not that far away.”

“I know,” Jonathan says, and before either of them can say anything else, the kids hustle down the stairs screaming about a movie.

Steve and Jonathan scoot apart.

===

23 days before Christmas; 24 days before Hanukkah

Steve has never been to the Hawkins Library, but Dustin practically holds his hand through the process of finding and selecting a book to read. Steve wants to learn more about Hanukkah, and a children’s book seemed like the best way to understand it all. It takes him only half an hour to read it - a personal record, Steve thinks - and while he’s not still completely sure what Jonathan does to celebrate, he’s at least got a better idea.

Steve thinks of maybe buying Jonathan a hand-made menorah, but the price is well over twenty dollars. Then he considers getting them candles for the menorah, but figures they probably already have that covered. Robin seconds this.

“Just get him a vinyl or a walkman or something,” she says, laying on the floor of Family Video.

“Yeah, maybe.”

“If I didn’t know any better,” she starts, sitting up slowly, “I would say you’re trying to… impress him.”

Steve stutters. “What? No. No. No way. I - I - I just like getting good presents. I think - I know I’m really, really good at it.”

Robin narrows her eyes at him before sighing. “Steve. I see how you stare at him.”

“What does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Robin says, sighing again. “It means nothing, Steve.”

About an hour later, a miracle happens - Jonathan comes to the store.

Jonathan Byers has never set foot into Family Video, and he treads lightly as he enters. Steve almost trips over himself when he sees Jonathan walk in, another pretty sweater on his slim frame.

“Can I help you?” he asks, approaching Jonathan, who stays relatively close to the door.

“I need to get Will something?” It’s more of a question than a statement. “He wants to watch a movie tonight.”

“Oh, I know the perfect thing!”

Jonathan watches Steve jog the short distance to the register and jog back. Jonathan wonders if he always runs around him to impress him, but he pushes that thought out of his head. Steve presents him with a VHS box with David Bowie on it - Labyrinth.

“Bowie?” Jonathan asks.

“Apparently,” Steve answers. “Will said he wanted to watch it, and Keith finally ordered it. You like Bowie, too, right?”

Jonathan’s brows twitch and he smiles a bit, that swelling feeling once again apparent in his chest. “You remembered what Will wanted to see?”

“‘Course.” Steve puts his hands in his back pockets. “I was holding it for him.”

Will was the most important person to Jonathan Byers. He would very easily trade his life with his brother if he could. He would do anything to make him safe and comfortable and happy. And Jonathan never really saw Steve as someone who would care about his little brother in such a way that he saved a tape for him. Which, yeah, maybe the bar is low, but Jonathan’s known for a while now that Steve Harrington has a knack for defying all expectations.

“It’s free,” Steve says, Jonathan shocked into silence. “Just take it. Let me know how it is.”

“Do you want to watch it?”

Steve’s eyes widen before he blinks. “I mean, maybe -”

“Do you want to watch it with us?” Jonathan almost tags on an “as friends”, but Steve’s almost certainly not thinking it’s a date. Steve’s a boy. Jonathan’s a boy. Just friends.

Steve blinks again, his brain short circuiting - like, yeah, of course he wanted to watch a movie with Jonathan Byers, and yeah, Bowie did look hot in that outfit, and yeah, they’re two men that hardly know each other except on a very deeply personal level that Steve can’t think about without making his head spin. It makes Steve’s head hurt when he thinks about the bond he shares with Jonathan, even though they’d only had approximately seven conversations over four years. He thinks Jonathan looks at him like he has him figured out, and it makes Steve’s stomach turn in excitement and anxiety.

“Tonight?” he finally manages.

“Yeah.”

Steve licks his lips. “Yeah, man. Yeah! Yeah. I like movies. Yeah, man, I can come over. What time? Want me to bring something?”

“No,” Jonathan says quickly. “Just yourself. Eight?”

“I can do that,” Steve says, not a hint of a joke in his voice. “Eight sounds perfect.”

“Do you remember where I live?”

Although Steve had only ever been at the Byers residence to thwart evil from overtaking the universe, he does remember. He could make the drive with his eyes closed. “I do.”

“Okay. Eight.”

Robin smirks behind the counter.

===

Later, 9 pm

Jonathan cannot believe how obvious Steve is about being his Secret Santa.

“Do you listen to Bowie?” he whispers in the middle of the movie. Their knees are touching again.

“Yeah,” Jonathan whispers back.

“Do you, like, have all of his albums?”

Jonathan glances at Steve, then back at the TV. “I do.”

Steve lets out a defeated sigh and Jonathan has to stifle his laugh behind his hand. Will can’t believe how obvious they’re being, either, but he tries to focus on the movie and not the scene happening beside him.

“Do you - like… um. Is there an artist you don’t have… an album… for?”

Steve cringes at himself.

“I’m set,” Jonathan says, trying to wrack his brain for anything he could give Steve. He feels pity for Steve, who’s just trying his best, but Jonathan isn’t exactly materialistic. He doesn’t even know why he let Will convince him to be part of the exchange.

Steve lets his eyes wander around, trying to think of anything he could get Jonathan. Maybe a nice blanket, or a sweater. Maybe a David Bowie poster. His eyes wander towards the kitchen window, where he can see a golden candlestick holder.

“Menorah?” he asks Jonathan, gesturing towards it.

“Yeah.” Jonathan looks towards it, too.

“It’s the twenty-sixth this year, right?”

“What?”

“Hanukkah,” Steve clarifies. “‘Til the third?”

“H- how’d you know that?”

“I looked it up,” he says, matter-of-factly.

“You looked it up?” Jonathan asks quietly.

“Yeah.” Steve frowns a bit. “Was I not supposed to?”

“Why’d you look it up?”

“So I could know more about what you celebrate.”

“Oh.” Jonathan looks back at the TV. “That. That’s nice of you.” And then he looks back at Steve and with a small smirk says, “We don’t need candles for it.”

“I wasn’t going to ask,” Steve says with a smile, bumping his knee against Jonathan’s.

They both smile the rest of the movie.

===

16 days before Christmas; 17 days before Hanukkah

Steve takes his headphones off. “I don’t know if I like them.”

Jonathan scoffs and bristles. “What - what don’t you like about Joy Division?”

Jonathan’s bed dips under Steve as he adjusts, his knee and elbow hitting Jonathan’s. “They’re, like, sad.”

“That’s the point!”

Steve rolls his eyes slightly, but smiles. “Why do you always want to be sad?”

“I - I don’t - they’re just good.”

“I believe you,” Steve says, and he means it. “I mean, what do I know about music?”

“Here,” Jonathan says, leaning forward to grab a Bowie album. “Have you ever listened to Bowie?”

“On the radio.”

Jonathan smiles and puts the tape into the walkman, and Steve puts the headphones back on. He gives Jonathan an apprehensive look as the younger boy clicks through songs, and is pleasantly surprised by the music that comes through. It’s not as sad as Joy Division - not at all. Not whiney, either - it’s victorious and upbeat and Steve can’t help but to move, shimmying in place, leaning sideways to hit Jonathan’s arm with his as he dances. Jonathan smiles and says something, but the headphones block him out. “What?!”

Jonathan chuckles and pauses the music. “I said, do you like it?”

“It’s happy!” Steve asserts. “You should listen to this stuff more often.”

“I do listen to it.”

“More. Often,” Steve enunciates, and then presses play on the walkman, his hand brushing against Jonathan’s.

Jonathan realizes how much he likes Steve being happy. He always knew it, but he didn’t know how much he liked it. Steve moves like he owns the world, like he’s not ashamed or afraid of anything. And Jonathan knows how bullshitthat is, that Steve, at heart, is a scared and insecure person who needs to love and be loved every moment of the day. Jonathan wishes he could give that to him, but if David Bowie gets Steve close to as happy as Jonathan would like to make him, he’ll take it.

“Put it in your stereo,” Steve says suddenly, pausing the music. “We should both listen to it, shouldn’t we?”

Jonathan shrugs a shoulder and takes the tape from the walkman, slipping it into the stereo and playing it. They both jump at the volume before Jonathan turns it down, and then they sit together, listening to Heroes until it fades out.

“Like us,” Steve says. “Heroes.”

“Yeah,” Jonathan says. “I guess.” Jonathan chews his lip for a moment before pausing the tape. “You saved my life.”

“What?”

“When the….” Jonathan can’t say it. “With the bat.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Steve looks at his hands and then smiles. “After you saved mine by beating the shit out of me.” Jonathan stiffens, and Steve sighs. “I know I said it before, but I’m sorry, Jonathan. I’m… God. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Jonathan says, voice a bit cooler. “It’s in the past.”

“You did save my life, though,” Steve says after a pause. “Seriously. If you didn’t beat sense into my brain….”

“You mean a concussion?”

“Sense,” Steve repeats. “If it wasn’t for you….”

“I know.”

It’s all that needs said.

“Another?” Steve asks.

“Really?”

“I like listening,” Steve says.

Jonathan suppresses another smile as he leans forward and turns the tape on again. Their arms are touching.

===

10 days before Christmas; 11 days before Hanukkah

“Just get him a new walkman,” Dustin says, tone bored, as Steve drags him through the biggest mall within an hour from Hawkins.

“It’s not good enough!”

Steve is exasperated, and desperate. He’d been spending way more time with Jonathan, and kept asking questions - he’s 90% sure Jonathan is on to him at this point - and he was still unsure of what to get him. Each day that passed made Steve more desperate to give Jonathan something that would make him happy, and a twenty dollar budget was just not enough for Steve. And though he feels like he knows Jonathan more than most people, he doesn’t quite understand Jonathan. And he wants to. He wants to so badly.

“Jesus, o-kay,” Dustin says, throwing his arms out.

“I’m not - I’m not mad at you.” Steve sighs and runs his hand through his hair as he stares at a sweater displayed in a window. “I just - I don’t know what to get him.”

Dustin knows why, but he still asks, “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t! I don’t. I don’t care that much.”

Dustin sees through the bullshit, but he doesn’t think a mall is the best place to talk to Steve about his feelings. “I just got Mike a new dice set. It’s not the best gift, but he’ll like it.”

“Well, I’m not lazy.”

Dustin pouts. “I’m not lazy -”

“And you’re not supposed to tell me who your person is -”

“You told me yours!” Dustin already knew Steve’s, but the point still stood.

Steve’s brows twitch in agitation. “Well, yeah, because I need help!”

“And I am helping you. Get him a damn walkman.”

As Steve contemplates the idea, a new one pops into his head.

“Perfect!” he shouts, making everyone stop to look at him. Dustin inclines his head, trying to get Steve to elaborate.

“We have to go to the music store. Now.”

===

3 days before Christmas, 4 days before Hanukkah

It’s official - Steve hates Joy Division. Not as much as he hates the Smiths, but he definitely hates it.

His ears hurt after listening to Jonathan’s favorite music, hand selecting the songs with the lyrics that Steve thought best exemplified Jonathan. In a way, the music helped Steve understand Jonathan, which was a happy surprise. And, quite honestly, Steve doesn’t mind listening to the music, because he knows it would make Jonathan happy, and that’s mainly what he cares about.

But something seems missing. Maybe it’s because no gift on Earth would be good enough for Steve to give to Jonathan. Jonathan deserved the world, deserved much better than what he was dealt. So did the rest of his family. Steve knows if he gave Jonathan anything worth anything, though, he wouldn’t take it. And if he did take it, he would share it - and Steve wanted to get him something that was purely for Jonathan. Maybe a mixtape was the perfect gift, but it didn’t feel like it. Something was missing.

Not that Steve had much time to contemplate another gift, because the exchange was happening tonight, and Steve couldn’t even write a two page paper in six hours, let alone find a better gift.

There’s always next year, he thinks as he’s wrapping it. Or his birthday. Or….

The wrapping paper his mom had purchased was patterned with bright green mistletoe, plum colored berries hanging from the leaves. Steve’s eyes focus on it for a while - intimacy was something that he missed. The closest he’d gotten in a year was his skin pushed up against Jonathan’s, knees and biceps touching. It made him yearn, and not for just anyone, but for him. For Jonathan.

But Steve doesn’t know how Jonathan feels. Yeah, they touch each other a lot, but maybe that’s just what friends do. Steve wouldn’t know. Jonathan’s eyes had lingered on Steve’s face before, and when they were smoking Jonathan didn’t even wince when Steve passed the joint to him. Isn’t that kind of like kissing? Steve doesn’t know. He just knows he wants to kiss Jonathan. He’s known for a while, and Robin told him after Steve cried to her one night that maybe he’s bisexual, and Steve had adopted that term because he wants to kiss Jonathan Byers so bad. And a kiss would be a personal, for-Jonathan-Byers-only gift.

A kiss, though, seems very straightforward. It doesn’t seem like a great idea. Maybe back in high school when Steve would kiss just about anyone, but not now. Not when he doesn’t even know if Jonathan swings that way.

So Steve finishes wrapping the tape, and he prints Jonathan on it in the best handwriting he can muster, and he hopes Jonathan understands through the lyrics.

===

“It’s got, like, you know.” Steve clears his throat. He’s too aware of the mistletoe above them. “The bands we listened to on it.”

“Steve,” Jonathan says, turning the tape over in his hands. His brows are furrowed together as he studies it, wondering what’s on the tape, wondering what Steve thought was intrinsically Jonathan Byers. It was such a personal gift that Jonathan didn’t even know what to do or say. “I…. Thanks. Thank you, Steve.”

Max grabs another gift from under the tree. “This one’s for Mike.” She chucks it at him and everyone’s eyes seem to turn to Mike, except for Will and Steve.

Their eyes meet, and Will gives Steve a look he doesn’t understand.

What? He mouths.

Will’s eyes flit up to the mistletoe, then back down to Steve and Jonathan. He repeats this a few times until Steve almost gasps at the suggestion. Does Will know something Steve doesn’t?

Steve nods his head as subtly as he can towards Jonathan. Him?

Will nods furiously, then looks back to Mike, who seems quite pleased with the dice Dustin had bought him. But Steve doesn’t get it, and when the presents are done, he pulls Will aside.

“What the hell?” he hisses. “What - what does that -” he mimics Will’s eye movements - “mean?”

Will rolls his eyes and crosses his arms. “C’mon.”

“What?”

“Come on,” he repeats. He gets quiet, and Steve can see Joyce in Will. “He likes you.”

“What? Did he say something to you?

“Steve. You touch each other, like, all the time.”

Steve deflates. “So he didn’t say something?”

“He doesn’t need to. Why do you think I convinced him to do this?”

Steve knows he’s saying “what?” too many times, but he says it again. “What?”

“We all planned this. We paired you two together on purpose.” And then he walks away because he’s tired of hearing about everyone’s love lives. This isn’t his problem. He just wants to play with Mike’s new dice.

When Steve looks towards the kids, they’re all staring. They quickly start talking to each other again, and Steve lets himself sit with the realization that these bunch of punks just pulled the most amazing Christmas hijink of perhaps all time.

Shitheads, Steve thinks, and while he’s definitely going to confront (and thank) them later, he’s got to talk to Jonathan first.

Later, 9 pm

“I knew it was you, you know.”

It’s cold outside, but it’s the best privacy they could get.

“How?” Steve asks, though he already knows.

“You’re not very conniving,” Jonathan says, once again suppressing a smile. “It was pretty obvious.”

“I just wanted to get you something you’d like,” Steve says. He breathes out and watches his breath disappear into the cold air. “You’re impossible to shop for, you know.”

Jonathan has the audacity to seem offended. “What?”

“Impossible,” Steve says, stepping forward. “You’re not a materialistic person.”

“So?”

“So,” Steve says. “So.” He can feel his heart in his throat, beating loud and fast - he hopes Jonathan can’t hear it. “So….”

And then they’re kissing under the mistletoe that Mrs. Wheeler hung on the porch.

Steve pulls back first, quick, surprised with himself. “Shit.”

Jonathan says nothing - he just stares.

“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks, throat dry.

“Didn’t you just kiss me?”

“Um. Yeah.”

Jonathan blinks. “Then do it again.”

And this time Steve really steps forward, really takes Jonathan’s cold cheeks in his cold hands, and he really kisses him. Jonathan finally lets that smile come through for the first time in a month as he melts into Steve, like a snowflake into a snowbank. Steve’s warm - well, warmer than the air - and he tastes a lot like vanilla birthday cake. Jonathan’s never really liked cake, but he likes Steve’s lips. Weird.

Jonathan pulls back first this time, because it was getting increasingly harder to kiss as his smile grew. He even tries to hide it behind his hand again, but Steve stops him, taking his cold fingers and wrapping his own through them.

“Impossible to shop for,” Steve repeats, his own smile hurting his cheeks. “Good thing kisses are free and personal.”

A laugh bubbles up from Jonathan’s chest and to his lips. “Yeah.” He squeezes Steve’s hand. Their chests are touching. “Good thing.”

===

tags: @pterawaters @mpmarypoppins

#steve harrington #jonathan byers #stonathan #steve x jonathan #my fics

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thelastspeecher · 3 years

Text

Here Comes the Son

Hehehe a pun.

Anyways I stayed up late last night bc I had an anxiety attack and wound up writing during that time so here have some more Marriage of Convenience AU.

——————————————————————————————

“Want Mama,” Iris whined loudly at Stan. “Want see her.” Stan sighed heavily.

“You and me both, kid,” he mumbled. Angie had gone into labor last night, resulting in Ford rushing her to the hospital and leaving Stan alone with Orion and Iris. That morning, Ford had called to let Stan know Angie was ready for visitors. But when they arrived, Angie had already fallen back asleep. Now, Stan was stuck in the waiting area outside Angie’s hospital room, supervising his niece and nephew.

“Uncy Stan,” Orion whimpered, holding his arms out. Stan lifted his nephew onto his lap.

“Getting bored?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Me, too.” Stan leaned his head back to stare up at the ceiling. “But your dad doesn’t want to wake up your ma. I guess she punched him the last time he did that.”

“Punch?”

“Yeah, punch. I’ll teach you how to throw a good one when you’re older.”

“Mmkay.”

“What are ya doin’?” Stan looked over. A strange man stood there, his hands on his hips. “Why aren’t ya in the room with yer wife?”

“Uh, ‘cause I don’t have a wife?” Stan said. Something about the man looked familiar, but Stan couldn’t quite place him. The man scowled.

“Don’t have a-” His eyes widened. “Wait. Yer not Stanford.”

“Nope.”

“But his children are with ya.”

“It’s called babysitting, hayseed. Ever heard of it?”

“Hayseed?!” the man squeaked. The door to Angie’s room opened. Ford stepped into the hall. “Stanford, who is this hooligan ya have babysittin’ yer children?” the man demanded.

“That hooligan would happen to be my twin brother, Stanley. We recently reconnected, and he’s been serving as our live-in nanny since.” Ford frowned. “Did Angie not tell you?”

“She mentioned that ya got a live-in nanny, but not that he was yer twin brother.” The man looked back at Stan. “I s’ppose that I should introduce m’self, then.” He held out a hand. Stan shook it. “The name’s Lute McGucket. I’m one of Angie’s older brothers.”

“So that’s why you’ve got that nose,” Stan said idly. Ford’s eyes lit up.

“Lute and Angie aren’t the only ones with that nose!” he gushed. Stan stood up.

“Your new kid’s got it, too?”

“Yes, he does!”

“He!” Lute gasped. “I got m’self a new nephew?” Ford nodded eagerly.

“Yes, the both of you do. Please, come inside, Angie’s finally awake and able to handle visitors.”

“Dada!” Iris toddled over to Ford. Ford knelt to pick her up. “We go see Mama?”

“Yes, my dear, we are going to see your mother now.” Ford poked Iris’s nose, eliciting a giggle from her. “And your new baby brother!” Stan, still holding Orion, and Lute followed Ford into the hospital room. The moment Stan’s eyes landed on Angie, he felt his heart skip a beat.

No, Stan, no. You are not getting a crush on your sister-in-law! Even if she and Ford don’t love each other romantically. But he couldn’t deny the feelings that had begun to emerge while Angie was pregnant. The two of them had spent a lot of time together and grown very close. Angie was beautiful, intelligent, funny, and even enjoyed Stan’s sense of humor. She’s the whole package.

And in that moment, Angie sat up in her hospital bed, looking almost ethereal. She glowed with happiness, a faint smile playing around her lips. Her golden hair shone in the light from the window. Nestled in her arms was a small bundle. From a distance, Stan couldn’t make out much of his new nephew’s appearance. All he could see was a long nose inherited from Angie and full head of thick, golden curls.

“Mama!” Orion squealed happily. Angie looked up from her newborn son. She beamed broadly.

“Hello, my babies. Are ya excited to meet yer lil brother?” she gushed. Orion wiggled excitedly in Stan’s arms.

“Geez, kid, calm down. Or I’m gonna drop you,” Stan teased. Lute gave him a dirty look. Stan brought Orion over to Angie’s bed and carefully set him down. Orion peered closely at his little brother. Stan couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face.

Dammit, Ford and Angie are good at having cute kids. Stan’s new nephew had rich, brown eyes and a round face in addition to the nose and hair Stan had noticed earlier. The baby stared at Stan with intense curiosity.

“He has twelve fingers and twelve toes,” Ford crowed proudly. He had come to the other side of Angie’s bed and placed Iris down as well. Iris crawled over to her new brother, brown eyes wide. Stan grinned at Ford, who had come a long way from hiding his hands constantly in their childhood. Angie had explained to Stan her theory. Ford’s children were polydactyls like him, so thinking poorly of his own polydactyly would be like thinking poorly of his children.

Makes sense to me. Stan’s gaze drifted back to Angie, who was happily watching Orion and Iris coo over their new brother. She’s a damn smart woman.

“So, what’s the na-” he started. The door slammed open. A man ran into the room. He had Angie and Lute’s nose, as well as Angie’s caramel-colored hair.

“Sorry, Lute came in while I parked the truck. And parkin’ took forever!” the man said. Angie looked up with a smile.

“Don’t worry, Harper, ya haven’t missed a bit. I ain’t even told folks this lil feller’s name yet,” she said soothingly. The man – Harper – came over to stand by Lute. Ford nodded at Harper.

“Harper.”

“Stanford,” Harper said. His eyes landed on Stan. “And this would be…?”

“My twin brother and live-in nanny,” Ford explained. Stan held out a hand. Harper shook it. “Stanley, this is one of Angie’s other older brothers, Harper.”

“I figured that out,” Stan drawled, breaking off the handshake. Harper’s eyes glinted with interest.

“Huh. Odd that ya never mentioned yer twin before, Stanford, and suddenly he’s not just in yer life but in charge of yer children.”

“Harper…” Ford said wearily.

Wow, Angie’s brothers really like to poke Ford, don’t they? I wonder if they’ve picked up on the marriage being for convenience instead of love.

“All right, I’ll drop it. Now ain’t the time.” Harper beamed down at the baby in Angie’s arms. “Tell me ‘bout this precious bean.”

“Yes,” Angie said happily. She looked at Ford. “Would you care to do the honors? After all, you were the one who decided the name.” There was a hint of a bite to Angie’s tone.

Huh. Maybe she doesn’t like her kid’s name?

“Of course.” Ford cleared his throat. “Everyone, I would like you to meet Apollo Hercules Pines.”

Okay. I get why she doesn’t like it.

“It’s nice,” Lute said, obviously lying through his teeth. Harper, however, nodded thoughtfully.

“I think it’s wonderful,” he said. “Strong and unique.” Lute rolled his eyes and muttered what sounded like “of course you do” under his breath.

“When I saw his golden hair, I immediately knew we had to name him after the sun. And his middle name was actually chosen by Stan from a list of options that Angie and I settled on.”

“I was sure the baby would be a girl,” Angie mumbled quietly. Ford frowned.

“Angie, is something wrong?”

“Oh, no, just-” Angie messed with Apollo’s blankets. “I weren’t plannin’ on namin’ my child Apollo Hercules.”

“I asked you what you thought. You agreed to it.”

“I wasn’t anywhere near lucid, with all those drugs they gave me durin’ the labor,” Angie argued. “And I was exhausted, too! You know how I get when I’m tired. I can’t think straight.” Stan cleared his throat, drawing everyone’s attention.

“Look, it might be a weird name, but it’s definitely gonna set the kid apart,” he said. Harper nodded.

“I agree. And honestly, Apollo ain’t close to the strangest name we’ve got in our fam’ly. I mean, Angie, yer full name is much stranger.”

“Even my name ain’t as bad as Fiddleford’s,” Angie retorted playfully. Stan frowned. “Another older brother of mine.”

“Yep, it’s a bit of a McGucket fam’ly tradition to have an odd name,” Lute said. He ruffled Apollo’s thick curls. “Since this lil feller’s got the fam’ly nose, makes sense he would have that other fam’ly trait.”

Angie and her brothers continued to chat cheerfully, discussing family gossip and cooing over the three children. Once again, Stan found himself watching his sister-in-law. She laughed. The sound awakened butterflies in Stan’s stomach. A hand was placed on Stan’s shoulder, startling him. He looked over. It was Ford.

“Stanley, thank you,” Ford said quietly. Stan raised an eyebrow.

“For what?”

“For stepping in. If you hadn’t intervened, Angie and I would have had a full-blown argument over Apollo’s name. In front of her brothers and the children, no less.” Ford took a steadying breath. “I can’t help but be enormously grateful that you’ve helped us so much. Not just in supervising the children, but in remedying some of the problems Angie and I had.”

“Hey, I’m doing what I was put on Earth to do,” Stan said firmly. “Help you out.” A smile appeared on Ford’s face, but disappeared just as quickly.

“But can that make you happy?”

“Geez, Debbie Downer, relax.” Stan elbowed his twin. “Your son was just born. On Halloween! Celebrate!”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“I’m fine, Ford. Really.” Stan shrugged Ford’s hand off his shoulder and leaned over Angie’s hospital bed, smiling down at her and Apollo. He didn’t notice the contemplative look that came over Ford as he watched Stan fawn over his sister-in-law and new nephew.

#is that Stan beginning to catch feelings for his sister-in-law? why yes it is!#and the best part: it's MUTUAL #Stanford Pines #Stanley Pines #Lute McGucket #Angie McGucket #Marriage of Convenience AU #ficlet #my writing #speecher speaks

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zettabita · 4 years

Text

RIVALS: Spark I

Rivals Master List

hi guys! ok so this is becoming more action than romance lmao I promise next time ill make it...fluffier...?

I need to get this story out of my head HAHAHAH so I’ll just keep writing. :D In this chapter, you might be a lil OP but thats ok bc you’re amazing irl <3

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a masaki ichijou x fem reader fic

Genre: action, romance Warnings: mild swearing Word count: 2.2k+

Previous: Thunder

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You really didn’t see what was coming when Saegusa-senpai pulled you into a discussion room the night before your first Ice Pillar Break match. You were meandering about the hotel, you see, trying to get rid of your pre-event jitters. You were inspecting the vending machine (Why doesn’t this have milk tea?) at the end of the corridor when Saegusa-senpai suddenly popped out from nowhere and urged you to follow her into a room full of very intimidating Third year students and an expectant Tatsuya.

The first thing that crossed your mind when Juumonji-senpai told you in that room that you were chosen to substitute for Monolith Code was the horrible image of you tripping over a rock in the middle of a battlefield. The second thing was how you were so unlucky that the first year they allowed girls to compete in Monolith Code and increased the number of members on a team was your year (but hey, hooray for gender equality.)

Not wanting to embarrass your school, you tried to put up a good fight. But what about Miyuki, you said. They said that she had two events already and Tatsuya scrunched his face a little bit at the idea. But I don’t have combat experience, you said. They said that Monolith Code, a glorified, no-contact capture-the-flag-with-magic contest, isn’t really live combat and your skills were needed in the team Tatsuya was forming. Not wanting to further bother the scary Third years who looked like they were getting more impatient by the second, you grimly added “not get stomped on at Monolith Code” to your Nine Magic Schools Competition to-do list (At the top of your list was “melt a lot of ice”, which you would later tick off in your Ice Pillar Break match with Mutsuba-san the next day.)

And that’s how you found yourself standing in front of a black pillar in the middle of an open field with Tatsuya Shiba, Leonhard Saijou, and Mikihito Yoshida at the Monolith Code finals, trying in vain to gulp down your nervousness.

At the far end of the field, you see four figures in dark red armor. They had one girl fidgeting more nervously than you were (It was somehow comforting.) You eye the tallest one, the one with the brownish-red hair tucked underneath the helmet before closing your eyes.

“We need you to counter Ichijou Masaki.” Tatsuya says, almost apologetically.

You almost spat out your drink from the hotel minibar. “You need me to do what?!” (You panic now, but years later, you thank Tatsuya for his decision. Masaki thanks him too.) You were hanging out in your room with your teammates and a few First-year friends, discussing combat styles and strategies for the coming matches in a few days.

Tatsuya sighs as Leo and Mikihito stare at him incredulously. “It will be difficult, but I need to shut down Futatsugi Kei. I can’t do that while also facing off against Ichijou Masaki. At the very least, you have to buy me some time.” You pause to think. Futatsugi Kei was another Third High School ace from a Master Clan. It was absolutely criminal for him, the Crimson Prince, and Cardinal George to be on the same Monolith Code team.

But then again, Ichijou Masaki was also in a weight class of his own. Or so they say. “But why me?”

“It’s actually one of the reasons why I chose you. The Ichijou clan specializes in medium to long range bombardment. That would make it difficult for Leo and Mikihito,” Tatsuya gestured to the two, “to take him on from a distance with their specialities. But you can.”

Before you could even reply, Erika chimes in from the other side of the room. “And you’re a girl!”

The four of us gaze at her curiously. You ask, “What does that have to do with anything?”

Erika flashes me a wide grin. “You’re a girl, so he’ll hesitate going all-out. Right?” She looks to the boys for confirmation.

“I don’t know if I should be happy about that…” you say as Leo lights up in realization. “Oh, yeah! Old-fashioned types like Master Clans people will probably underestimate you, ” Leo blushes slightly and pauses, realizing the implications of his words, “uh, which is, you know, really unfair, but maybe you could use that to your advantage?”

Tatsuya and Mikihito nod in agreement. “Yes. It’s possible for us to construct a strategy around that,” Tatsuya adds.

You press your fingers to your temple in a gesture of defeat. “Okay. I’ll think of something. But I don’t think my defense will hold…”

Tatsuya reaches into his inner coat pocket. “And there’s another reason why I chose you.” His lips curl into a rare smile and hands me a silver gun-shaped CAD. “Come on. I’m going to teach you Gram Demolition.”

“(L/N)-san.” Tatsuya calls. You open your eyes without looking at him. “Are you ready?” He asks in a low voice. He was obviously most concerned about your state, given that you were the unlucky one to throw down with one of the best first-year magicians around.

You feel for the CADs in your holsters and pull up your glove, your magic talisman, on your left hand. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You think back to your first Monolith Code match with Eighth this morning. You did well, taking to the battlefield easily and readily, but you haven’t shown the world your new spell that was learned in a few late-night crash courses with Tatsuya. Gram Demolition, a potent close-range Counter Magic spell, wasn’t a complicated technique, you learned. You only had to have a crazy high Psion count to cast it. It just so happens you had a lot more than most.

You sigh and go over your magic repertoire in your head for the last time. You do your best to ignore your heart beating annoyingly fast in your chest, sharpen your focus, and lock your eyes on that self-assured red-haired magician standing directly across from you on the field. Masaki Ichijou—your rival for the day.

And with a screech of a faraway siren, the match begins.

Tatsuya sprints, two CAD pistols in his hand, legs pumping quickly underneath him as he aims at Futatsugi. The air shifts as the other two spread out behind you. Masaki, on the other, strides confidently forward and begins to cast a spell aimed at Tatsuya.

Not him, me, you think to yourself in a split-second. You send a barrage of lightning bolts in Masaki’s direction, the intensity of your thought coloring the strength of your magic, and he deflects it just in time. He turns to you and you see a small smile plastered on his…admittedly handsome face. Smug bastard. You take a quick glance to your left and see Tatsuya engage in a shootout with that Futatsugi character.

Your eyes dash back to your opponent. Masaki raises his two pistols and a few Activation Sequences form around you quickly. Air Bullet: a round of compressed air and Masaki’s go-to spell in this competition (You’ve watched a few replays of his matches. Never can be too careful with a guy who’s killed a bunch of Russians when he was 13.) Strong, but easy to dismantle. Show time. You blast them away cleanly one by one with your newly-learned Gram Demolition technique and counter with your powered-up version of Thunder Child. Masaki’s smile fades and his eyes widen as he puts out a defensive spell, averting the paralyzing effect of your offense. At the edge of your vision, you notice the other Third opponents shoot you a shocked glance.

Masaki regains his composure in an instant. The two of you walk towards each other, pistols raised in a magic gunfight. Lightning and Activation Sequences form and disintegrate around the both of you within seconds, drawing you in, encircling the both of you in a beautiful but deadly light show. (It lit up his face the same way it would the first time he took you to see fireworks at the pier in Kanazawa.) You manage to slip in a few lightning bolts in between shots of Gram Demolition, making him sidestep occasionally, but you were basically locked in a stalemate.

Now or never. You break your solid stance and run towards him, catching him off-guard. For a second, he pauses, and you press the attack, nearly hitting him with a low-voltage lightning bolt.

The Crimson Prince must’ve felt the heat quite literally. He flinched at the heat and the close sound of air expanding rapidly like miniature thunder, and, with a flick of his wrist, a dozen Activation Sequences suddenly surrounded you, threatening to let loose. Oh my God, this jerk’s trying to kill me. You catch the horrified expression on his face (his move was a violation of the rules, after all) before you blast away one, four, then seven in a moment, going beyond what you thought you could, and then you take out a few more. You feel the hotness from a nearby explosion. You internally scream at your body to catch up and obliterate the remaining Sequences.

And then, when you’d just were a couple of paces from him, just within range of a lightning bolt, one air bullet hits the ground next to you. The world to your left erupts in a hot flash and the ground simply bursts, soil surging up into the air. You let out a yelp of pain and dive away from the blast.

“And that’s the plan. Do you think the illusion will hold?” You focus on your outstretched hand, gathering Psions and then destroying Tatsuya’s attempt at a spell, the glow from the attempt lighting up his figure in the darkened training field not far from the hotel. Your Gram Demolition was still imperfect, but it was getting there: you had proceeded from mildly inconveniencing Activation Sequences last night to outright blowing them away this evening.

Tatsuya furrows his eyebrows in mild disapproval as he prepares to cast another one. “At your level, it should.” Another Activation Sequence forms before you and you blast it away easily. “Still...a lot of things could go wrong with that. Are you sure, using yourself as bait?”

You shrug. “You would be too busy to help me. And… to be honest, I don’t think I have a chance at fighting him head-on for too long. So I’m doing what you guys suggested. Using a little psychology.” You grin as you take down a couple of Sequences from Tatsuya near-perfectly. “After all, who wouldn’t panic if they thought they hurt a cute girl?”

You just didn’t expect him to try to kill said cute girl, even if it was an accident. You lie face down in the dirt. Your ears were ringing and your head throbbed irritatingly. Thank goodness your helmet had tough glass or you’d be eating mud by now. A thick mist that looks like dust and steam emanates from the palm of your glove-covered hand and envelops the surrounding area, hiding you from view. You raise your head slightly to look around at it. Your smoke version of Magical Mist, a spell that creates a thick fog, looked a bit unnatural, but it should do. A destroyed CAD, an attempt at a defense spell, a weird natural phenomenon: what created the mist shouldn’t matter, because the opponent should be panicking either way. You take another second to lie on the grass, CADs clutched in your hands, hurting all over from the dive, and then you waited.

You knew that Masaki was just at the edge of the smoke, probably freaking out at the prospect that he killed a girl and a foreign exchange student at First High (Later on, you learn he already had been practicing how to apologize to your country’s government for your death. The nervous wreck.) You knew he would be too busy reviewing his previous steps to see if the excessive force he used would be enough to kill you and definitely too busy to notice that his opponent was very much still alive and kicking. You listen for a rustle of grass or a shuffle of armor.

After a quiet moment of passing wind and the faraway sounds of magic from your teammates’ own battles, you hear it: a step back, the ground crunching underneath a foot. You raise yourself from the ground quickly and throw your CAD in the direction of the sound. It was a good throw: high and far, the gun spinning away from view in a clean trajectory. More importantly, it was a good distraction at a magic-only battle. At almost the same time, you sprint and emerge from the smoke and into the light.

You swear the world moved in slow motion in that instant. Masaki Ichijou stood there a few feet from you, pistols lowered, his head turned in the direction of the CAD you threw. He feels the air shift when you emerge and he turns to you slowly, his emerald eyes glinting in the light, his mouth gaped open in surprise. He raises an arm instinctively, probably activating his defenses, but you already cast the final blow: Spark. A seemingly simple spell that creates a small electric discharge but is enough to paralyze an opponent.

As you did, you couldn’t help but flash the Crimson Prince a shameless smile from ear to ear. I win, you wanted to say. He looked on—you couldn’t understand the expression on his face—as he fell to his knees, electricity crackling around him. Far away, the crowd erupts in loud cheers.

Months later, Masaki tells you that that smile was what made him fall desperately in love with you.

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hope the way you beat him wasn’t too far-fetched lmao. thanks for reading! <3

#mahouka #ichijou masaki #masaki ichijou #masaki ichijo #tatsuya shiba #Mahouka Koukou No Rettousei #irregular at magic high school #the irregular at magic high school #irregular #xreader

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