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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

Hi! This is for the prompts: LWJ and WWX get together at Cloud Recesses but it’s a secret. When it does come out tho, probably due to WWX mischief some how. JC comes to the conclusion that LWJ has managed to ‘defile WWXs honor’ and now JC has no choice but to fight on behalf of his big brother, who clearly has been wronged.

Honor, Defended - ao3

Untamed

“What are they doing,” Jiang Cheng said, voice strangled, eyes staring.

Nie Huaisang stood up on his toes and squinted over his new friend’s shoulder. “Fighting?”

It looked like fighting.

“No.”

Not fighting? In that case, at least by Nie sect standards, that meant –

“Flirting?”

Jiang Cheng growled, which meant Nie Huaisang’s guess was right. “I’m going to kill the rotten bastard in white! I bet he waited until Wei Wuxian was alone just for this. How dare he take advantage of my – of Wei Wuxian!”

“I mean, I don’t know about that? They seem about tied,” Nie Huaisang said, making a mental note – not that many people could match up against Lan Wangji, especially when he was in a you-are-breaking-the-rules sort of snit. “Each one’s giving as good as the other gets, if you know what I mean…I’m talking about fighting!” He added hastily, seeing Jiang Cheng’s expression. “Just the fighting! And hey, maybe the Lan sect doesn’t flirt through fighting?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Jiang Cheng said. “All cultivation sects flirt through fighting.”

Damnit, Nie Huaisang thought to himself with a sigh. That means I’m going to have to train with saber after all if I’m going to get somewhere here, doesn’t it? Well, at least da-ge will be pleased…

“Are you going to interrupt?” he asked, hiding his face behind his fan. “If fighting is flirting…”

As expected, Jiang Cheng choked. “Not all fighting is flirting!” he hissed. “But that most certainly is!”

Nie Huaisang didn’t understand fighting, so he just shrugged.

“Why don’t you confront him later?” he suggested, but Jiang Cheng shook his head, his features already settling into a mulish expression that had no right to look as attractive as it was. “All right, I see I can’t convince you. Good luck defending your brother’s honor, then?”

“If Lan Wangji doesn’t stop flirting with Wei Wuxian in class, I’m going to do something violent,” Jiang Cheng said.

“Okay, now I know you’re delusional,” Nie Huaisang said. “But still very pretty. Oh, I’m torn…actually no, I think I’m fine. I mean, what cultivator do I know that isn’t a bit delusional?”

“Can you stop talking nonsense and focus on how we’re going to split them up?” Jiang Cheng demanded irritably. Really, it was no wonder that Nie Huaisang’s best attempts at flirting were going nowhere. Jiang Cheng was thick.

In many appealing ways. Mm.

Damn his bad taste.

“Well, I think first you have to start by reversing your statement until it resembles the truth a bit more,” Nie Huaisang said, trying to be practical. “It’s Wei-xiong that’s flirting with Lan-er-gongzi, not the other way around.”

“He’s just like that!”

“A giant flirt, you mean?”

“Sociable,” Jiang Cheng insisted with the sort of blindly loyal stubbornness that was sadly very, very appealing to those surnamed Nie. Mouthwatering, even.

“Right,” Nie Huaisang said, dabbing at his mouth with his sleeve to make sure he wasn’t drooling. “I see. All right, I’ll help you. I’ll even promise to find a way to break them up for good, guaranteed – but first you have to meet one condition.”

Jiang Cheng arched his eyebrows, looking unwillingly intrigued. “Name it.”

“You have to come up with one way in which Lan-er-gongzi has been flirting with Wei Wuxian that isn’t ‘he existed being pretty in his general direction’.”

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth.

Nie Huaisang waited.

“…maybe he should consider being less pretty,” Jiang Cheng grumbled.

Nie Huaisang patted him on the shoulder, then left his hand on his shoulder because why not.

“We’ve all thought that about him over the years,” he said. “Better luck next time.”

“You’re supposed to be helping me preserve my brother’s honor!” Jiang Cheng hissed at Nie Huaisang, who had made absolutely no promises of that sort without giant loopholes that he could walk right out of. “Not – encouragingthis!”

“I didn’t! I just helped Wei-gongzi play a tiny little prank –”

“With pornography!”

“Tasteful erotic art,” Nie Huaisang corrected.

“With cutsleeve pornography!”

“Cutsleeve tasteful erotic art.”

“Nie Huaisang! You’re missing the point!”

“Am I?” Nie Huaisang asked thoughtfully, tapping his fan against his lips. “I don’t know, I’m not sure I am. Can you explain what the point is again?”

Jiang Cheng threw his hands up into the air. “Listen, it was bad enough when Wei Wuxian got thrown out of Teacher Lan’s classes and had to go copy rules in the Library Pavilion for a month; that’s disgraceful and loses face for our sect, but at least his personal honor was preserved –”

Bad scholarship was, in fact, not an impediment to having personal honor. Nie Huaisang knew this fact forwards, backwards, and intimately.

“But then Teacher Lan fell for Lan Wangji’s tricks and decided to assign him to supervise copying –”

“Lan-er-gongzi has tricks? That’s news to me.”

“…well, either way, they got cooped up there in that room, together, alone, for – for weeks!”

“Hasn’t Lan-er-gongzi been using the muting spell on Wei-xiong most of that time?”

“No, eventually Wei Wuxian learned his lesson and now he shuts himself up whenever he sees him starting up the spell, he complains to me and shijie about it constantly every night,” Jiang Cheng said, grumbling. “Stop interrupting me!”

“Sorry. Go ahead.”

“Anyway, if that wasn’t enough, you’re now encouragingthis debacle by setting up a prank that involves Wei Wuxian, Lan Wangji, and cutsleeve pornography.”

“I did,” Nie Huaisang agreed. “And it’s tasteful erotic art, Jiang-xiong.”

“Why do you keep insisting on that?” Jiang Cheng snapped. “Isn’t it the same thing?”

“No,” Nie Huaisang said patiently. “Because I also have pornography, and it’s a lot less tasteful.”

Jiang Cheng stopped, utterly distracted from his previous rant. “...you do?”

“Mm. Want to see?”

“Lan Zhan! Lan Zhan, wait for me, I want to talk to you – I need you! See, for whatever reason, I can’t find Jiang Cheng anywhere. Can you help me look –”

Nie Huaisang shut his window before Jiang Cheng could overhear and get distracted.

They were busy.

“All right,” Nie Huaisang said. “I admit it, you’re right.”

Jiang Cheng looked at him. “…you do?”

“I do.”

“Right about…what?”

“About the flirting, and Lan Wangji having tricks,” Nie Huaisang said, nodding wisely. “See, the Lan sect take their rules about their forehead ribbons very seriously. It’s parents, children, and lovers only. So if you ran into Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji entangled on the path near the back mountain, both of them soaking wet, with Lan Wangji’s forehead ribbon wrapped around their wrists…why, that’s practically an elopement!”

Jiang Cheng, predictably, turned purple. “He eloped with my – I’m going to kill him!”

“Have fun with that,” Nie Huaisang said happily, and watched as Jiang Cheng drew his sword and charged, shouting something.

Wei Wuxian attempted to defend their conduct, except apparently their conduct involved finding the ghost of a Lan sect ancestor –

“Did you bow?” Nie Huaisang asked, very unhelpfully. “Both of you? So you’d say you’ve made your bows to the older generation? Have you bowed to heaven and earth yet, too?”

Lan Wangji gave him a death glare, but maybe he should have thought of that before writing to Nie Huaisang’s brother disclosing details about Nie Huaisang’s love life.

“I’m going to kill you!” Jiang Cheng roared.

Nie Huaisang smiled over his fan at Lan Wangji and gave a jaunty little wave.

A few days earlier

“Wait, so, you’re actually together?” Nie Huaisang asked, and Lan Wangji nodded. They were having tea together the way they always did at the middle of the week, a tradition started long ago when their brothers were visiting and being utterly intolerable. Even their long-standing fight with each other would be put aside for mid-week tea. “Well done!”

Lan Wangji’s ears turned a little red. “Mm.” After a few moments, he added, “Mm.”

“No, no, I don’t think you need to worry,” Nie Huaisang said. “He may seem flighty, but he’s very loyal…the Jiang sect might object, though. They can be a bit tetchy about these things.”

Arched eyebrows.

“What do you mean, how would I know? Have you somehow missedthat I’ve been trying to snag Jiang Cheng all summer? There are more things in this world than Wei Wuxian’s waistline, shapely as it may be.”

Eyes narrowing.

“…don’t you dare tell my brother!”

A smirk, not that anyone else – excluding Lan Xichen – would know.

“I don’t care about your ‘appropriate conduct’! If you tell my brother that I’m dating instead of studying, I’ll find a way to make your life miserable, too! Just you wait!”

#mdzs #jiang cheng #nie huaisang #lan wangji #wei wuxian #my fic #my fics #honor defended

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writersmorgue · 3 years

Text

You're a Hero, Eijirou Kirishima

for @juicebocs and their wonderful art that absolutely did not make me cry. definitely not.

“Have you seen the news?”

Has Katsuki seen the news? Sure he fuckin’ has. All of Japan has seen it at this point.

He shoots Kaminari a glare, forcing the blond to back the fuck off. He just needs to get home but this paperwork is taking forever to submit.

At this point he rewatched the video more than his own wedding vows.

Eijirou had been on a routine mission, but of course, his trouble-magnet of a partner had ended up in the middle of a bank robbery smack dab in the middle of Tokyo. Alone. The robbers had set up a hellish version of the trolley problem basically, with one group of five children and one pregnant woman in one room and a dozen other adults in another.

Eijirou had panicked like any sane person would. After being given a time limit, a mere ten seconds to choose one, he picked the children.

Now in Katsuki’s mind, this makes sense. He would’ve obviously chosen the fuckin’ kids. Probably. It’s different, he supposes, when lives are actually on the line.

When Aizawa had them attempt this problem in second year, Katsuki had brushed it off as ‘bullshit he’ll never need.”

Funny how life works.

The upload bar reaches 100% and Katsuki almost knocks over Kaminari on his mad dash out of the building.

He clicks on Eijirou’s contact and presses the phone aggressively up to his ear, cursing when his husband’s cheerful voice informs him that he can leave a message after the beep.

“Leave a message my ass, Eijirou you better be fuckin’ okay.” He growls into the receiver, clenching his teeth and pressing the end call button as he steps onto the train.

Curse the fuckin’ agency for forcing him to stay late today out of all days.

It’s a mere twenty minutes later when he finally makes it home, hiking up his post-shift sweatpants he stills, waiting for a sign of life.

“Ei?” He calls, “I’m home.”

Nothing but the distant sound of water running.

Katsuki speedwalks to the bathroom, dodging various items strewn on the floor.

Eijirou’s mouthguard, his stupid shoulder gears, his boots.

Steam is visible from the doorway of their bedroom, slipping through the cracks of their bathroom door and out into the frigid air. Katsuki peels off his sweatshirt, leaving it to hang on their bedpost, he rubs his arms as goosebumps rise on his skin.

“Ei?” He calls as he places his hand on the doorknob, “I’m coming in.”

No response. God fucking damnit.

He twists the handle, waving away the wall of steam that collides with his face.

Squinting in the dim light, he can barely make out the huddled form of his husband in the bottom of the tub. Scorching water pelting his bare back. His skin is almost as red as his hair prompting Katsuki to somewhat frantically turn the temperature down.

He crouches in front of the redhead and plops himself down on their fuzzy black bath mat.

Eijirou clamps his eyes shut and digs his head into his arms. Katsuki frowns, sticking his hand out to meet his husband who flinches slightly when they make contact.

Katsuki rubs his hand along Eijirou’s warm arm before sliding his other arm under himself and resting his head on the tub.

“Ei-baby, can you look at me?” The affectionate nickname slips, laced with worry.

Eijirou sniffs and brings his head up, tears silently stream down his face, mixing with the shower water, and he curls farther in on himself.

“I’m sorry,” He sobs, grimacing as if preparing for a blow. Katsuki’s frown deepens.

“The hell are you apologizing for?” Of course, Katsuki knows, he’s not stupid. Obviously, his angel of a husband blames himself for not saving the other group even though he was handling a hostage situation alone for some fucking reason. “Ei you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Eijirou’s face screws up before he chokes out another sob, “Katsuki you weren’t there, I fucked up. I could’ve saved them both. I’m a terrible hero, you deserve someone better.”

“Ei, quit with your fuckin’ bullshit. You know that’s not true.” The softer, “one of the hostages filmed it.”

Eijirou flinches so hard Katsuki retracts his hand, “Oh no, oh nonononono-” Eijirou gasps, gripping his head in his hands

“No Ei-” Katsuki reaches out, almost afraid to touch him, “Eijirou Kirishima look at me.”

His husband’s wide eyes meet his, “No one blames you. The whole fuckin’ country has probably seen the video at this point, yes, but no one blames you. Babe, you didn’t do anything wrong. You waited for backup that didn’t come, you were calm and collected, and you made a decision, one that most pros wouldn’t have been able to make. But you know the one thing you didn’t do?”

Eijirou opens his mouth, probably to spew some self-deprecating bullshit that Katsuki is not going to deal with right now.

“You didn’t let those fuckin’ kids die. You’re a hero, Ei.” He cuts him off, reinstating the hand contact on Eijirou’s arm. He grips the redhead’s hand, hard.

Eijirou uncurls his hand and intertwines their fingers together.

Katsuki sticks a hand into the stream, tucking a loose strand of hair behind the other’s ear.

“C’mon Red, let’s get you dried off, this shit can’t be good for your skin.”

He stands, walking over to the cupboard and quickly grabbing a few fuzzy towels. He shuts off the water and rubs Eijirou down as his husband shivers, skin hardening in small waves.

Katsuki reaches a hand down to pull Eijirou up but stops when they make contact.

“If you blame yourself again while I can hear it I’ll blast you to the moon,” Katsuki murmurs sweetly.

“Understood,” Eijirou immediately responds, knowing the blond can and will keep that promise.

Katsuki pulls him upright and gently tugs him into a warm embrace.

Eijirou crumples into his arms, letting himself fall, knowing Katsuki will catch him.

Katsuki rubs circles into his back, shushing him softly as he cries.

“I- I couldn’t do anything, a-and they’re dead. All those people had families, Kat. They had lives-” Katsuki grips red hair and leads them both down onto the bed.

“Let’s get you into something warmer, yeah?” He stands, causing Eijirou to let out a short whimper when he leaves, “Close your eyes and count to twenty, Ei.”

He steps away to their closet as soon as Eijirou does so.

He returns exactly twenty counts later with Eijirou’s baggiest sweatpants, boxers, and a Crimson Riot hoodie that he’s had since high school. It’s old and tattered but it makes Ei feel safe.

Katsuki sits on the bed next to the redhead and pulls on his own All Might hoodie. Then he pulls his husband down and curls his body as best he can around the bigger man. A towel was placed under them for Eijirou’s wet hair.

“I’m proud of you, Eijirou. You were amazing today.”

The big puppy digs his head into the gap between Katsuki’s head and shoulder, taking in his husband’s scent.

“Thank you, Kat. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“I love you, stupid.” Katsuki brings a corner of the towel up and begins dragging it along Eijirou’s hair, slowly drying it.

“I love you too.”

#kiribaku #based on art #god it's so good go look at it #eijirou kirishima #bakugo katsuki #fanfic #drabble #oneshot #boys in love #soft bakugou #bnha #mha #bnha fic #mha fic #llyn writes shit

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holylulusworld · 4 years

Text

The taming of the shrew (5)

Summary: You and your alpha live your life the way you want to.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader

Characters: Mary Winchester, John Winchester, OFC's

Warnings: pregnant reader, nesting, scenting, protective Dean/angry Dean, cuddling & snuggling, annoying mother-in-law, daddy!Dean feels, light smut, unprotected sex

Y/M/N = your mother's name

Divider by @firefly-graphics

The taming of the shrew masterlist

“Y/N, maybe you should place the pillows over there. This way Dean could-“ your mother growls low in her throat, glares at Mary who dared to nag about the nest you made on the bed Dean built for you and his growing family. “Why didn’t Dean buy a bed? This is so – raw.”

“My mate built the bed with his hands. It’s beautiful, comfortable, and large enough for us and the pups. My alpha wants our children to sleep with us after I gave birth,” you quip, ignoring Mary doesn’t like the bed. “Look he carved our names into the headboard.”

“Dean did a great job! I sent pictures to my husband and he said that he never saw a better bed. He’s so talented,” your mother swoons. “You must be proud of your son. He’s such a good mate, caring boyfriend and I know he’ll be a wonderful father.”

Mary is not used to people praising her son or that she doesn’t get to have the last word. She looks around the bedroom Dean created for you, not missing her son put a lot of effort and love into it.

“It’s nice, I guess,” Mary says, watching you place a few shirts and plaids onto the bed. You had to remove your nest in the bedroom and Dean still has some scratches as you fought him with tooth and nails. “Maybe you need more blankets.”

“Mom,” Dean snarls, stepping inside your bedroom. “I think Y/N needs some time alone in our bedroom. She wants to make a nest. Do not disturb my omega.” Chest puffed Dean waltzes toward you to stand close to you.

“Dean is right,” your mother coos, grasping for Mary’s hand. “We should leave the young people alone. He’s such a caring alpha.” your mother snickers, watching Mary’s face fall. “We will give you time, Y/N.”

“Why don’t you use something else, omega?” Dean whines, watching you steal more clothes out of his wardrobe. “You’ve got all my favorite shirts and plaids. I only got no matching socks left and now you want my last plaid.”

“I love it, alpha,” humming Dean longingly looks at the nest you created. “It’s soft and look,” pointing at Dean’s side of the nest you purr low in your throat. “I placed it on your side of the bed, along with your socks.”

“My socks,” Dean laughs, glancing at the socks framing the nest on his side of the bed. “Your nest looks like art.”

“Ours, Dean,” grasping for Dean’s hand you place it onto your belly. “This is for you, me and the pups, not just me,” nodding Dean closes his eyes when he feels your babies kick. “How about we test it when our mothers are gone?”

“Did my mom annoy you again?” moving his arms around you Dean purrs when you rest your head against his chest. “I can set her straight again. If you want me to, I can use my alpha voice.”

“I used my omega voice last time. Mary and I talked things out. I made her see she’s not going to decide anything involving you, me, or our children. She still struggles and needs help,” giggling you run your hand over Dean’s chest. “But my mom volunteers to help Mary adapt.”

“God, I love you and your mom,” looking up at Dean you fist his shirt. “I love you more, I swear. You will always come first, you and our kids.”

“I know you do,” pecking Dean’s lips you smirk when his hands become brave. He moves his fingers over your back, tickles your skin before he gropes a handful of your ass. “Dean!”

“Baby girl,“ whining you lick into Dean’s mouth. “I need you, sweetheart, omega…my love,” your hands fist his shirt, drag him toward the nest you prepared. “On your nest?”

“Our nest, alpha,“ you nuzzle his cheek, moaning when you catch his scent. “Lock the door and we can test it, Dean. I want to see if we feel comfortable on our nest.” giggling you watch your alpha stumble toward the door, already fighting to get his pants open. “Hurry, alpha. I’m waiting for you.”

“I’m on it, Y/N. Lemme just lock the door and-“ his pants drop to the ground, followed by his shoes and shirt. Your alpha snickers, watching you wiggle your ass on the bed, sticking it out to lure him toward your nest. “Fuck, baby girl don’t do this to me.“

“Come here, lover boy,“ you smirk when Dean almost trips over the carpet to get to your nest. He snarls, watching you bury your face into his plaids on your nest. “We don’t have all day, alpha.”

“Patience, sweetheart. I need to check if you are ready for me,” moving behind you Dean looks at you on your nest. He purrs, enjoying the sight of his pregnant mate waiting for him while he runs his fingers through your folds. “You’re so wet, naughty girl.”

“I’m a pregnant omega, Winchester. Now get ready, I’m on the edge for two days,” you whine, looking over your shoulder. “Give me what I need, Dean.”

“Naughty girl,” he carefully nudges at your entrance, watching you throw your head back when he inches his way inside your body. “Taking my cock so good.”

“So good,” pushing back onto Dean’s length you giggle when he grips your thighs carefully. Usually, he would roughly let you feel his dominance but since you are having his pups, he’s gentle and afraid to hurt you.

“I know I’m damn good, sweetheart,” you giggle at Dean’s words, slowly start to rock your body with your mate. “Do you want to shock our moms? I could make you scream.”

“DEAN, don’t you dare to shock my mom,” your alpha hums, grinning when you start to moan his name. He thrusts slowly, drags his thick cock along your walls to bring you over the edge before your mothers start to wonder what takes you so long.

“Love seeing you all stretched out on my fat dick,” you groan. “Do you know how tight your little pussy feels around me when I knot you? I could write poems about it.”

“Fucking pervert,” Dean snorts, not giving away he tried to make you laugh. “But don’t stop now, Baby. I’m so close.”

“Already?” speeding up Dean growls when you clench tightly around him after only a few more thrusts. “Damnit, sweetheart, I wanted to go for longer,” he whines, filling you seconds later. Dean carefully pulls out, admiring your sweat-slicked skin for a moment.

“I needed that,” you grin, rolling to your side to make space for Dean. “I guess, we’ll need to change the sheets later.”

“Smells like us,” purring low in his throat Dean lies behind you, moving closer enough to scent you. “Maybe we should have a shower and join our mothers. I don’t want them to walk in on us butt-naked.”

“Aw, you’re such a prude,” you giggle. “Don’t you want your mommy to see you’re a grown man who likes to have sex with his mate? I bet you want her to believe you’re still her good boy.”

“I never was a good boy,” pecking your neck, nibbling at your skin Dean grunts. “I was a rebel and good with the ladies before you came along.”

“You’re lucky I came along, or you would’ve spent the rest of your life alone up here. Grumpy alpha,” humming your mate kisses along your shoulder. “Now let’s have a shower…”

“Why does the nest look so – chaotic?” Mary watches you drape another plaid over Dean’s side of the bed. “Wasn’t the red plaid on the other side and why are the socks on the ground?”

“I like it messy,” Dean says, grinning at you. If he could, he would tell his mother your nest looks messy as you fucked on it not half an hour ago, but he bites his tongue. “And we don’t need socks on the nest but our feet.”

“I see,” your mother chuckles, knowing you too well. “I guess our children know best. I think they love the new nest without a doubt,” giving you a wink your mother walks out of the bedroom. “How about we focus on dinner? My husband and yours will be here soon.”

“Right,” gritting her teeth Mary looks at the nest, wondering why you let Dean remove the socks. “Food is ready soon, Dean. You better hurry up and help Y/N down the stairs.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean smirks, holding out his hand. “I will make sure my omega walks down the stairs safely. Nothing will happen to her on my watch.”

“What if she goes into labor? Wouldn’t it be safer to find a house closer to ours, in an actual town? Not out here in the middle of nowhere,” Mary still didn’t give up the dream to have her son, you, and her grandchildren close enough to see you every day.

“Mom, a midwife lives down the road. Her husband is a doctor and if I call an ambulance, they’ll be here in no time,” grunting Dean wraps his arm around your waistline. “Y/N loves the house, just like me. It’s not even an hour away. Other kids move to another state or county, mom.”

“Fine, fine,” Mary sighs, wringing her hands. “I just want my family as close as possible. We don’t want to miss a moment in your life.”

“Oh, I think you want to miss a few moments,” grinning Dean wiggles his eyebrows. “And I can tell, those moments are not that rare.”

“DEAN WINCHESTER,” his mother scolds your alpha. “We have guests! Don’t talk about-,” she struggles to say the word, so you whisper ‘sex’ and she nods, sighing deeply. “I raised you better.”

“Still, I became a dirty boy,” you love the way Dean tries to rile his mother up. “Come on, mom. I know you and dad do it more than once a month.”

“Dean!” this time you scold your alpha seeing Mary’s face turn crimson. “We don’t talk about our parents' love life within these walls. Now help me get the dishes ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” giggling you walk toward the kitchen, Dean hot on your heels.

“They are perfect together,” your mother swoons, watching Dean kiss your hair softly when you try to grab a plate. “Look at them, young love.”

“Can you not talk them into moving to town?” Mary watches Dean whisper something in your ear, making you giggle. “I did a great job bringing them together, Y/M/N. Now we need to stick together and get our kids back.”

“Not so loud, Mary,” your mother shushes. “Y/N can never know I helped you find her true mate. She would still be sad and lonely. I saw it in her eyes anytime one of her friends got mated.”

“We will talk about this later, Y/M/N. I want my Dean and your daughter to move into the house I bought at the end of the street. It’s safe, large, and-,” Mary sighs when you tell Dean how much you love your home. “They won’t move in…”

“No, they won’t,” your mother smiles when you check on Dean’s neck, soothing the scratches you left with a soft kiss. “Look at them, Mary. Do I wish they live right next to me? Of course, but Y/N and Dean are adults, mated and expecting their babies. Let’s just be on the sideline and watch them.”

“We are almost done,” you coo, looking at your mother. “Something wrong, mom?” While John and your father talked about the bed Dean built for you, your mother and Mary watched you and your mate.

“No, no,” your mother sniffles. “You’re just glowing since you are expecting, sweetheart,” you whine, rushing toward your mom to hug her tightly. “My little girl will have her own babies soon and I’m just a little emotional.”

“Must be an omega thing,” Dean grumbles, watching you cry with your mom. “Last week Y/N cried as the snowflakes are too pretty and the hot chocolate I made for her was too delicious.”

“It was Dean,” you sniffle, turning your attention toward your alpha. “You put tiny marshmallow hearts inside,” Dean groans, rolling his eyes when you hide your face in his chest. “How could I be mad you ate the last slice of pie if you do such a cute thing.”

“I’m not doing cute things,” not wanting to let John, Sam, and your father know he’s weak for you, Dean tries to act tough. “I just need to make sure my omega is safe and happy,” John laughs when Dean tries to lie about all the sweet things he does for you.

“Son, save it. We all had to give up our rough façade to please our omegas. I had to write a fucking poem to earn my mark on her neck,” John grumbles. “Mary was a wild and feisty omega, just like your Y/N. I guess that’s the reason she likes her so much.”

“John, that’s a secret,” Mary tuts. “Don’t tell anyone I was a wild child when we were young,” swooning John pecks Mary’s lips, remembering their first dates.

“How about dinner?” Dean tries to not think about his parents having sex. He shudders, scrunching up his nose. “I’m hungry…”

“Finally, alone,” you crawl on top of your alpha to snuggle into his chest. “I love my parents and your family, but they are exhausting.”

“How do you feel, sweetheart? Do you need me to get you anything? Maybe a late-night snack?” Dean snickers when you pat his chest.

“I could have some chicken and dessert. Maybe you should get something too?” you smirk when Dean pecks your cheek before he carefully helps you sit on your nest. “Get two plates, alpha.” Running your hands over your swollen belly you purr. “Your son is kicking me! This means he wants more pie. Don’t let him wake your daughter.”

“I’ll get him some pie,” giggling you watch Dean run toward the door. “Give me a minute, Y/N. Your alpha will get you your food…”

“That’s perfect,” your back rests against Dean’s chest. He placed a bamboo tray with fold-away legs in front of you. While you relax against his warm chest, Dean feeds you with your favorite food. “I could get used to letting you feed me.”

“I like to pamper you, sweetheart. How about I rub your back later? Or your belly,” yawning you pat Dean’s thigh.

“We will eat the food and sleep later. You need your rest too, Dean. In not three months there will be two crying babies keeping us awake. Let’s enjoy the silence for a while,” Dean hums, hiding he can’t wait to hear his babies cry for the first time.

“I’ll rub your belly later,” he decides, pecking your hair before he stuffs more food into your mouth. “Now let me have some pie.”

>> Part 6

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#The taming of the shrew - Part 5 #dean winchester #alpha!dean #alpha!dean winchester #alpha!dean x omegareader #alpha!dean x reader #alpha!dean x omega!reader #smut #pregnant omega #a/b/o #a/b/o dynamics

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y0itsbri · 3 years

Text

gallavich week 2021 - day 2 - fantasy au w/ inspo from this wonderful prompt list by @ianandmickeygallavich // @gallavichthings

You're Not Getting Cold Fins Now, Are Ya?

word count: 6.3k

(click on art for better quality)

Mickey truly enjoyed being a fisherman. He liked the solitude that came with the job -- no one on his ass trying to tell him what to do or that what he's doing was wrong when it definitely wasn't. He was always a resourceful little bastard, and his confidence at sea was not unwarranted. He knew how to do shit, and how to do shit right -- crewmates be damned. Nothing but him and the water, just the way he liked it.

He often sold his fish at the market in the small coastal town where he and his sister, Mandy, reside. Her charisma luring customers to their stand, promising the best of the best -- and it wasn't even a lie anymore. Lately, Mickey's produce was the freshest and somehow the most beautiful, catching somewhat exotic fish with vibrant colors that none of the other fishermen were able to attract. Mandy had once trapped him in the corner, demanding answers to questions like how on earth he alone could come up with all this? She thought he was secretly a pirate, raiding other ships, stealing their best, and dumping the rest -- you can't fucking afford to go to jail again, dumbass! Time after time, he reassured her that it was just dumb fucking luck until she caved and let him go, not withholding a dubious glare. Despite what he told her, and even told himself, he was a bit suspicious. He was not a lucky man.

With an ungraceful leap, he had heaved himself out of his boat, the water well deeper than his knees, but his overalls keeping him as dry as he could be. His beef jerky strip hanged out of his mouth as he marveled towards the tree line in front of him. If he didn't feel so damn calm, he might have been a bit frightened at his new surrounding -- but it felt right. He also felt like he was being watched. His eyes scanned past the trees and over to the rocky ledge where water was splashing high and mighty, creating a silvery mist. He saw a patch of orange-ish red shimmering against the water. It was surely too shallow for any fish or octopus that size to be this close to shore. He turned around to make sure he boat was firmly anchored this time before he ventured over to the rocks. But as soon as he turned around again, the orange thing had disappeared. Huh.

Mickey sat himself in the sand, reveling in the feeling of being on land again. As often as he flipped between land and sea, the difference never failed to startle him. He dragged his hands through the sand, feeling like some fancy exfoliator Mandy was always trying to get him to use. He was adamantly watching the colorful rocks bead through his fingertips. A larger stone caught in his palm. He held it up to the sun where it was peeking out from behind the clouds. At first glance, it looked like any other stone -- kind of a boring sea foam color, but in the sun, it sparkled like green embers. He rested the stone atop his knee and turned his attention to a bird squawking from the rocks. Noisy fucker. He furrowed his eyebrows wondering what could have happened for the bird to cause such a fuss. Stuck in his tangle of thoughts and oblivious to the world, a wave swept over him -- even above his overalls.

Mickey leapt up in surprise, "Motherfuck-!" In all his joust movements, he managed his lose the stone... and his dignity. He didn't have a spare change of clothes on his boat because it was supposed to be a short trip. He didn't plan on falling asleep and ending up on an island god-knows-where. So there he sat, pouting, in just his boxers and hat while he let the remainder of his clothes air dry with what little sun there was. He could've sworn he heard someone laughing at him -- giggling, even. He glared towards the squawking bird before determining it was his own paranoia. Mandy had him do all that therapy shit awhile back, so he knows how he can get sometimes and how it's a 'trauma response' or some bullshit that actually made a hell of a lot of sense now that he thought about it.

He pulled out an orange from the front pocket of his overalls, still half damp in the sand. He nibbled on it, tossing his peels as far into the tide as he could, watching it float... float... disappear. Whatever creature was down there must really fuckin' like oranges. It was quick, but exciting none-the-less. Mickey no longer felt sluggish like his impromptu nap that landed him on this island might have suggested. He felt alive.

The sun placement told him that it was time to head back if he had any chance of making it back to the coast before sundown. Fuck! His fish! He picked up his clothes and half-jogged half-stumbled back to his boat, expecting the fish he had caught earlier in the day to have gotten tainted by now. He shoved his legs into his mostly-dry overalls and waded out to his boat. To his surprise, the fish looked good -- almost better than when he caught them.

Now Mickey may not be the most observant, but even he knew something was a little suspicious (something a little fishy is going on here🤔). If he didn't know then, he definitely knew when he turned to see the green ember stone -- his stone -- resting on top of his ice box. The fuck? He picked up the stone, smoothing over it's edges with his thumb, leaving a sparkling trail where his fingers had just touched. So it wasn't just from the sunlight, interesting. He secured the rock inside the zipper pocket on his overalls, then double checking to make sure it was still there. Whatever force on his side might be into second chances, but he didn't want to test his new luck with third chances.

He really had to get going now. He gave the island a once over as he pulled out his map, subtly marking his new uncharted oasis. This was something else.

Since his initial discovery, Mickey had come back to the island several times, and all the more prepared. He kept spare clothes on him at all times now, in case the tide one again decided to have a personal vendetta against him and his overalls -- which of course it had. He also brought more beef jerky, tools, and a tent. He was determined to see more than just the coast the next time he returned.

He had told Mandy that he was going to stop at another port for the night so as not to wait up for him that evening, which wasn't unheard of. With the amount of overnight stays on his isolated island as of lately, however, Mandy thought he had a secret lover a few ports over, teasing and making kissy faces at him whenever she could. "Who is she, Mick? Oh, c'mon, I tell you about my hookups!" "Yeah, and I wish you fuckin' didn't." "Whatever, anyways, she's gotta have a name. Wait! Oh my god! He? Is it a guy? Mickey!" "Mandy, no." She could be annoying as hell when she wanted to, but she mostly knew when to stop.

As much as Mickey denied a secret lover, there was definitely a secret something, but he couldn't place his finger on exactly what it was. He knew there was like the red-ish, orange-ish glow that flickered beneath the surface of the water. And he knew there was feelings. Which sounded weird as hell -- even to himself. He should have just played along with Mandy's hookup in another port theory. Hell, he should find a hookup in another port. That would be a lot simpler than whatever this was. But he just couldn't get himself to stay away from this mystical island. His fish business was doing better than ever, so he had no real excuse to stay away.

He had managed to map out the geography and topography of the island after a few visits -- Mickey knew his shit. No one lived on this island. It looked like no one has ever lived on this island. It was a small, and it was beautiful, but he still couldn't find the source of whatever force drew him here -- at least when he was actively searching for it. He continued throwing his orange peels in the ocean to be devoured by his... friend? He tried to throw his apple cores in, but his creature was apparently not a fan. He didn't blame them, to be honest.

He began to talk to himself and even sing to himself more and more on the island. He thought he may have heard the laughter again, and even some off-key humming or whistles along to his tunes. Mickey didn't even care if it was the paranoia or if he was having some odd hallucination at this point. He just felt entirely too good.

Which is why he didn't see it coming. If he hadn't been so distracted by this siren-like callings, he would have noticed the storm coming. He was Mickey fucking Milkovich, damnit. He knew his shit! Which is why he knew that he could secure the boat as best as humanly possible, and it still wouldn't survive the storm surge unscathed. He hoped that whatever force looking out for him would look out for his boat. He said a quick prayer -- and he wasn't religious by any means -- as he double checked to make sure he had his 'lucky' stone, his backpack, and his map, then hiked inland where he knew there was a cave for shelter.

He had escaped the start of the downpour, but only barely. The dark clouds loomed overhead, chasing out any hopes of a light, easy rain. Mickey huddled against the inner wall of the cave, nibbling at one of his jerky strips, and cursing the lack of cell phone signal on this fucking island that doesn't even fucking exist according to any map he's ever fucking seen. To say he was having a bad day was an understatement. He couldn't do much but wait, and he quickly fell asleep to the pitter patter of the water dripping outside the cave.

He awoke to a sharp burning on his chest. The fuck?! His so-called 'lucky' stone was hot. And glowing. And so was most of the other rocks in the cave. Now this was definitely something. The stones obviously did not want him to stay still as they grew hotter and glowed brighter, but this time alternating and lighting up a path down a miniscule stream he hadn't noticed before. The storm had long stopped, and he hoped these bewitched stones would at least lead him to the shore so he can check on whatever remains of his boat.

Mickey followed the path to the shore, luckily, but more towards the rocks that he noticed on his first visit. He hardly saw the rocks now as he was drawn to a heap of familiar orange-ish red-ish laid up on shore. He fully expected it to disappear again so he refused to even blink, inching closer. It was alive -- for sure -- that was good, but it was battered from the storm. It looked scaley... but also had hair? It grunted and rolled over. Yup. That was a man. But also a fish.

Mickey thought his hallucination were playing entirely too many games on him now but he physically could not bring himself to turn away, as much as he swore he wanted to. He wanted out. He was insane. That was the only explanation, because obviously mermaids weren't real. He was sleeping, he had to be. He would wake up in his bed next door to Mandy's and all of this would go away. Hell, maybe the whole island was in his dreams. Maybe he was trapped in a very realistic coma. He looked around for something to wake him the fuck up when he heard the creature groan again.

Fuuuuuck, now Mickey was involved. The tide had pulled back far enough that left the creature stranded on the land. The stone grew hotter yet against his chest. "Alright, alright, I fuckin' got it, thank you," he grumbled. The creature turned it's startled head towards his. They locked eyes -- green embers. Of course.

"It's you, isn't it? All this time?" Mickey asked as the creature weakly tried to hide his face. Mickey didn't know why. It was a beautiful face, somehow covered in freckles that sparkled.

"Nah, man, it's cool, right? We've been having fun, eating oranges and shit?"

The creature unburied its head and quietly whistled one of Mickey's favorite songs, earning a chuckle out of Mickey as he awkwardly lifted the half-man half-fish in some semblance of a firefighter carry. Mickey expected the creature to be slick and cold, but he was soft and warm. Odd, but not unpleasant. They were almost to the water now.

"Yeah, Rain on Me by Ariana Grande and Lady Gaga. Fuckin' banger. Don't tell my fuckin' sister about this. She'd never let me live this down."

The red-headed creature tilted its head in confusion.

"Lady Gaga? Ya know, Mother Monster?"

He seemed to startle at the word 'monster' as he wiggled, escaping Mickey's grip into the water, disappearing into the dark sea. Frowning, in a last attempt at communication.

Mickey wasn't having it. Nah. The creature had been luring him for weeks. Hanging out with him for weeks. Even called out to him with some fuckin' moon stone type things. And now it wanted to disappear? He didn't fucking get it. He kept talking to himself as he paced along the shore.

"You're not getting cold fins now, are you?" Mickey teased, "Wait, fuck, is that offensive? Fuck, I'm sorry, please just come back."

He was acting fucking pathetic. He buried his face in his hands. Fuck. His brain was fucked. His life was fucked. His boat was fucked. His boat.

Mickey nearly tripped as he stumbled back to his boat. Or more like where he docked his boat. All that remained was his anchor. The rest had been mangled and scattered along the shore. He could probably get it fixed eventually since he had the little foresight to keep his tools safe in his backpack. But until then, he was stuck on an island, that apparently didn't exist, with a companion, who apparently didn't want to be perceived, and a dwindling supply of beef jerky. Great.

It had been a depressing night. Without Mandy's overenthusiastic presence or his new friend's feel-good aura, Mickey was especially pessimistic. He hardly got any sleep, his brain racking all the ways he could possibly fix his boat. Mickey Milkovich knew his shit, but he was beginning to feel a little doomed. He took out his 'unlucky' stone from it's secure pocket, fidgeting with it like he does when he's nervous. The thing was cold (one could say it was stone cold😎).

Feeling hopeless, he stormed back to the shore, tossing his last orange into the water, intent on yelling at the water until he died a peaceful death.

"C'mon, man," his voice came out sounding more like pleading than yelling, but what can you do? "I don't give a fuck if you're a man or a fish. I need you to help me fix my fucking boat! You got me into this mess, you get me out of it!"

He collapsed in the moonlight. He was absolutely not on the verge of crying. He was focusing on his breathing so intently that he barely heard his voice.

Holy fuck, though. He finally got why the legends always referred to mermaids as sirens. He would follow this voice anywhere. It was as disturbing as it was comforting.

Mickey was knocked out of his trance as his previously-tossed orange rolled to a stop at his feet.

"I said, I'm sorry." The siren's red hair poked out of the ocean several feet in front of him. Mickey continued to stare. How the fuck did this motherfucker's freckles glow brighter than the stars in the sky above them?

"I never meant to cause you harm. Swear. I even brought you the best fish I could find. My family lectured me about cannibalism or some shit, but I just wanted any excuse to see you again."

Mickey stared in awe. The creature's voice ringing through his ears prettier than any choir he had ever heard. He had got to get himself together. He was supposed to be mad. Right!

"What about my fuckin' boat? You realize I actually have to leave this place eventually, right, Red?" Maybe Mickey was being a bit harsh considering he was basically in the middle of some magical doomsday. But he was still ridiculously frustrated at his current situation.

"Hmm," the creature considered, "my name is Ian." Ian. Ian. Ian. The name chimed through his head. "And I was thinking about your boat. I tried to save it before it was too late, but I ended up too close to the shore, and the tide was ridiculous, and hence I got stranded and we got off to the wrong... fin." Ian gave Mickey a dumbass smirk, clearly proud of himself.

Okay, it did ease the tension, Mickey would give him that. Mickey was silent for a bit too long again.

"And what is your name?" Ian mused, "I've got to stop calling you That-One-Hot-Fisherman in my head."

Mickey nearly choked, and tried to cover it up by rubbing his hand against his lips, "Mikhailo." He had no idea why he was compelled to share his real name. He hadn't used that name in years -- only liking it from the sound of his mother's mouth. He corrected himself, "Well, it's Mickey. That's what I go by."

"Okay, well, Mickey Mikhailo, shall we get started on rebuilding your boat now or do you want to wait until morning?" Ian looked both devious and sincere. It was maddeningly confusing.

If Mickey swooned at the way a fucking fish said his name, that was nobody's business. But he couldn't deny he was exhausted. His stone was warm against his chest, comfortingly so, not hot like before. He managed to mumbled out a "in the morning" before falling into the peaceful sleep he had been so desperately craving.

Mickey awoke to sunshine in his face and a bird pecking at his thigh -- the pocket where his final jerky stick remained.

"Fuck off you fucking fuck!" He shooed haphazardly while rubbing fucking literal sand out of his eyes. God, what a nightmare.

"I see someone's not a morning person," teased an orange blob from the water. Mickey rubbed his eyes again. Right. Ian.

"Fuck off, fish genius over there."

"That's not any way to treat your only chance of getting off the island anytime soon," Ian pouted.

Fish genius had a point.

"Sorry," Mickey grumbled. He was never one for apologies, but man did he need to stay on this creature's good side. But, he was all good sides as far as Mickey was concerned. In the daylight, he could see how Ian's orange hair curled into little rings when it air dried. It looked real fuckin' soft. He couldn't remember if he had the chance to touch it yesterday on their fucking rescue mission. He needed to distract himself before he said something he regretted. He was not about to be flirting with a fish. He wasn't!

"Ya got any more oranges you can toss my way? Fuckin' starving."

Ian pointed at the one sandy orange a few feet from where Mickey had slept, "Just yours that you tried to hit me with, thank you very much."

"You like the peels, though." Mickey said as he tossed a piece into the ocean, floating several yards away from where Ian's head bobbed out of the water.

That took Ian aback, "Damn, I thought I was slicker than that."

"Not that slick, man."

"Hmm." Ian briefly considered before speeding over to the peel and devouring it quickly, "I can get you some sea food -- as your people say."

"Ain't that basically illegal for you, Red? Ain't you technically sea food?" Mickey musing, tossing another piece of his orange peel into the water.

Ian rolled his eyes. "I-an." He sounded it out slowly. "But I mean, circle of life and all that." He chased the orange peel, twisting it in his fingertips, awaiting Mickey's response.

"Nah, it's cool, don't worry about it, I-an. I don't really want any part in your whole fucked up moral dilemma situation. Got enough of those myself."

Mickey avoided Ian's attempt at eye contact, and Ian didn't push the conversation any further. He seemed tentative again. Mickey didn't want to lose him again.

"So... boat stuff?" Mickey huffed as he stood up, turning to his mangled beauty.

"Yeah," Ian did that dumbass smirk again that had Mickey fucking blushing, "Boat stuff."

Ian explained that he had spent most of the night gathering the parts that he could find in the water, and even some special mud and sea weed looking things that he promised would hold it together if Mickey's tools couldn't. Mickey took offense to the lack of faith Ian had in his skills, but he eventually agreed that it was at least somewhat warranted given their current predicament.

Mickey spent the morning gathering boat parts from land, and by midday, he felt hopeful. It was a 'finding treasure in the trash' kind of moment, but it was enough for now.

Ian and Mickey had fell into idle conversations as Mickey worked to restore his boat and Ian gazed onward, bobbing in the waves.

"So, you have a sister named Mandy?" Ian asked after a slice of silent had washed over them.

"What, are you a psychic, too?" Mickey laughed nervously under his breath.

Ian rolled his eyes like that was the stupidest thing he's ever heard. "No, smartass, I'm a good listener." He paused. "You talk about her a lot."

"Wasn't sure if you were real or if I was crazy." Was all Mickey managed to respond. Ian was really more of the conversation carrier and neither of them seemed to mind.

"Do you have any other family or friends?" Ian wondered, this time genuinely curious.

"Considering I'm talking to you right now, what do you think?"

Ian silently stared at Mickey until his watch became uncomfortable and Mickey felt the urge to continue.

"Mandy's the only one that sticks around. She actually cares about me -- fixes me dinner, drags me out to meet her friends, even makes sure I get enough sleep -- she's fuckin' crazy."

"It sounds like she loves you."

"Yeah. Dunno why."

"You're a good person, Mickey."

Mickey flashed Ian his knuckles reading 'FUCK U-UP' in faded black ink. "Yeah, I'm a real stand-up guy."

"No, I mean it." And Ian just looked so genuine that all Mickey could do was believe it for once in his goddamn life. All it took was for a fish to tell him. Yeah, that makes perfect sense.

"What's your social circle look like? Couple of dolphins, maybe a crab?"

"Maybe," Ian confessed. Shit, maybe this was some real life Little Mermaid. "But I also have five siblings."

"Y'all all got bright-ass fins? Or is that just you?" Mickey still couldn't believe this was his reality right now, but shit, might as well hear about all of Ariel's siblings.

"My little sister, Debbie, she's orange like me. My mom had a theory that our colors are reflective of like our auras or something. She was always hanging around this old-as-balls sea turtle spouting off whatever nonsense he remembered. Some of it makes sense, though. My oldest sister, Fiona, is purple. Then there's my brothers -- Lip is blue, Carl is green, and Liam is yellow."

"Mandy has black hair like me. But she has a nose piercing, and I ain't getting one of those anytime soon."

Ian smiled that Mickey was even trying to draw some sort of semblance between their drastically different worlds. But it felt so natural, Mickey couldn't help it.

Mickey felt his lucky stone grow warm, again. Ian wasn't in any trouble, though. He was literally right fuckin' here. And he was happy. Mickey was happy, too.

By nightfall, they had called it quits. Mickey had ended up using some of Ian's 'special' tools, earning a fair amount of teasing from Ian himself. Whatever. The red-head had been protecting him so far. He trusted him -- even if that thought was terrifying. The mud would dry in the moonlight, and Ian assured Mickey that he would be set by morning.

Mickey was fucking hungry after a long day's work. It was high tide and Ian had something different in mind.

"Now that we're talking," Ian started. "I've been wanting to show you this."

Mickey waited for further instructions.

"Follow the stones, I'll meet you there, promise."

Mickey trusted the fucker despite his innate inability to trust anyone else, so he followed the stones into the thick of the forest. He knew the island. He had mapped the thing. He didn't know what Ian could possibly want to show him that he hadn't already seen.

The path stopped glowing near the bottom of a cliff. He knew about the cliff. But what he didn't know was that the cliff was a waterfall.

"Woah."

"Pretty cool, huh? Only happens with lots of rain."

Ian had prepared them a fish dinner set on another rocky edge, like the one on the other side of the island.

"Ian. You're a fish. This ain't right."

"First of all, I'm a mammal. Second, it's fine. They tell me when they're ready to die so I have a clear conscious as far as I'm concerned."

"Dude. I knew this was fucked up, but that is fucked up."

"Dude," Ian mocked him, "We're in the middle of the fucking ocean. Do you have any better ideas, or are you just gonna be all pissy? Least you can do is eat with me."

Mickey's jerky supply was officially gone. Fish genius had another point.

Mickey wouldn't admit it to anyone, but Ian's dinner was even better than Mandy's were.

Morning came and Mickey found himself not wanting to leave. Of course, he knew he had to, so he would.

"So, Red, I guess this is goodbye?"

"Only for now. You'll be back." Ian winked. Mickey knew he would.

"This is stupid, but like, you can't go back with me? Like, we make a pretty good team."

Mickey was visibly uncomfortable at his moment of vulnerability, and Ian took pity on him with a gentle smile. "Unless I want to get hunted, I'm better off here. It's safer."

"Right, right." That made sense. Mickey didn't even want to think about the possibility of Ian getting hurt. There had been rumors about mermaids in the area, but he had always assumed them to be tall tales. He knew enough of the fishermen were heavy drinkers and supposed that played a factor in their truth-telling.

"My mother is on land now, but she wouldn't choose to help me. Learned that the hard way."

Mickey frowned. He knew what it was like to have a parent that would trade you for literally anything else. But he was more curious about another part of Ian's story.

"What do you mean your mom is on land? Like she was captured or something?"

"No, nothing like that. More like she's got two legs that she uses to chase whatever thrilling experience she can. Another one of her wacky theories was that her 'true love's kiss' gave her the ability to shapeshift between her land and water forms whenever she wanted."

"Huh."

"All my siblings think she's crazy. The idea was tempting enough for awhile, though. Fiona had gotten real close to this sailor named Steve. He promised her the world and she believed him. But their bond wasn't enough to shift. Fiona was sure he was her soulmate. He still comes around sometimes. And then there's Debbie, who almost got killed trying to woo some girl at the port. I think my mother is just a hopeless romantic. But hope can be dangerous sometimes."

Mickey listened on to this story that sounded more like a children's bedtime story -- all this princess nonsense about a true love's kiss made him think that maybe this red-head was Ariel. He suppressed a laugh when he saw the worried look in Ian's eyes.

"Well whatever it is, she sounds pretty lucky."

Ian smiled softly, sadly. "Yeah."

"Hey," Mickey said gently. "I'll see you around, okay?"

"Okay."

And with that, Mickey sailed his patchwork boat back to whatever wrath Mandy was about to unleash on him.

The door creaked as Mickey made his way into the apartment he shares with his sister. He was nearly tackled on sight.

"Mickey, what the fuck!" Mandy punched his shoulder before crushing him into another hug. "I was so worried about you, you little shit!" "Ow! Jesus, I'm alive. Would you calm your tits?!"

Mandy gave him one more punch for good measure, "Where the fuck have you been? Three days, Mikhailo Aleksandr, three days! Tell me you didn't get that bitch up at the other port pregnant. I'm not taking in anymore rug rats."

"Bad storm. Boat wreck. And ya know what," Mickey threw his hands into the air, "I wish I would have got someone pregnant. Instead, I was stranded at sea, so maybe be a little bit nicer to me?"

"Fuck." She slumped a bit, "How did you manage to get back? Did you call one of your pirate buddies?"

"Jesus Christ, Mandy. I'm not a pirate -- even though they are dope as fuck, by the way. I just so happen to have a few brain cells -- something you don't know anything about."

Mandy rolled her eyes, "Competent enough to sail straight into a storm, huh?

Mickey flipped her off, "Good to be home, sis."

Mandy smiled, "C'mon, I'll make you some real food. I'm sick just thinking about you surviving off fuckin' jerky for half a week."

-- Mickey picked up a couple shifts at Mandy's bar the next week and a half to make up for three days of lost produce and another week for the time it took to properly fix his boat. He trusted Ian's magic mud well enough, but he didn't want to push his luck.

He wore short sleeve button-ups when he was bartending. He didn't have the comfortable luxury of built in inner pockets like with his fishing overalls, so he sewed his own. He couldn't stand the idea of not having his lucky stone close to his heart.

One night while he was slinging drinks, he mind at sea, he felt the stone grow hot and hotter. Fuck! It nearly burned his skin. He took it out from its pocket tossing it back and forth between his hands. It was glowing again. He felt nauseous. This had to mean Ian was in danger, right? Like last time in the cave? He wasn't on the island. He didn't have some magic pathway leading him exactly where he needed to go. What if he didn't get there in time?

He must have looked as insane as he felt because he felt a cautious hand on his shoulder. "Mick, take a fifteen."

"Got it." Mickey headed out back. Mandy would assume he was just having a smoke. But he ran. He hoped to hell that he was on the right track. The stone glowed brighter so he took that as a good sign.

He was out of breath as he rounded the corner and ended up at the docks. The stone's glow died down and it grew cold. Something was very wrong. What the fuck?

"Ian!" He probably looked like a psychopath screaming at the sea. Maybe he wasn't far from it.

This was the dock his boat was usually parked at. He was on his way to his old spot. Maybe--

A flash of red caught his eye in the dark water. No fish that red was ever this close to shore. His stomach crumbled. Oh my God, Ian.

Mickey dropped to ground, trying to get a better look at what was wrong. Wrapped in fishing nets was Ian, his skin a sickly shade of blue that wasn't from the moonlight.

Mickey made quick work of the fishing net with his pocket knife, careful not to cut Ian's slightly cold body. Was he too late? He couldn't be too late. He was here now. Everything would be fine.

Tapping into the adrenaline coursing through his veins, Mickey heaved Ian's large body onto the dock planks. His eyes were closed, but he was breathing at least.

"Ian. Ian, look at me. You're safe now, okay?" Mickey turned around, making sure he was alone. Luckily, no one was out at the water this time of night. Mickey pulled Ian's head into his lap and brushed his fingers through Ian's hair. Fuckin' finally. It was soft. So soft. "Hey, Red, wanna hook me up with whatever conditioner you got under the sea?" He laughed at himself to keep from crying.

Ian murmured something, lips barely parting.

Mickey stopped his caresses, "What was that, Mumbles?"

"Said you're a dumbass." Ian repeated. It was quiet, but his sass rang through. He was alive alright.

"I know." Mickey smiled for real this time. He placed a gentle kiss on Ian's forehead near his hairline. Ian's eyes fluttered open as they held each others' gaze.

They were distracted when Mickey's stone glowed bright again. Probably brighter than it has ever been before. The color shifted from it's usual green ember to resemble more of an icy blue. The boys watched as it began to shake on the ground -- where Mickey had dropped it when he spotted Ian's body. The stone continued to vibrate violently until it burst. Green and blue specks of light joining the stars in the sky above them. Mickey was so entranced by the light that he didn't notice when something else began to shift.

Ian's shimmering red-orange tail was replaced by two, long, freckled legs. Ian's eyes grew wide as he hit Mickey's arm.

"The fuck you hitting me for -- holy shit."

"Maybe my mom wasn't crazy."

"Maybe not." Mickey traced Ian's new legs with his fingertips. "How do you feel? Pretty big change, champ."

"It feels right... which is weird." Ian concluded after a moment, wiggling his toes.

"You're weird, so it makes sense." Mickey nodded, like it was obvious.

Ian rolled his eyes, "Shut up."

Mickey cocked his head as his lips upturned into a smirk, "Make me."

Mickey had expected Ian to still be chilled from the water, but he wasn't. He was warm and soft. So there they stayed, tightly wrapped in each others' arms under the dancing green-blue stars and the sound of gentle waves knocking into boats.

It was safe to say that Mickey had entirely forgot about returning to his shift at the bar that night. They had decided to sneak Ian into Mickey's room before the fishermen got their early start on the day ay the docks. It was still dark when they slowly opened his apartment's front door, knocking into each other and trying not to laugh at their bizarre situation.

Mandy flicked on the larger kitchen light, ready to give her brother an ear-full for leaving her alone to serve the bar creeps all night when she noticed he wasn't alone. He was accompanied by a tall, gorgeous, red-headed man, who appeared to only have eyes for her brother, not even noticing her presence.

"I thought you said you didn't have any bitches?" Mandy said, hoping to burst them out of their little bubble.

Mickey mumbled a quiet fuck under his breath. And surprisingly, Ian was the first to speak up, "Uh, you must be Mandy? I'm Ian. I'm uh- just visiting town."

"Mhm, whatever you say. Mick, next time, at least tell me when you're ditching work for a booty call, yeah?" She said after an appreciative glance Ian's way, bumping Mickey's hip as she walked past them to her room down the hall.

"Oh, work. Yeah, my bad." Mickey had genuinely forgot. Something about soulmates kind of clouding his judgement.

"Pasta's on the stove -- goodnight, dumbass and company!" She called before slamming her door closed.

Ian erupted into a fistful of giggles, "So much for sneaking in, huh?"

"Whatever, do you want some pasta, or are you sticking straight to cannibalism and orange peels?" Mickey teased.

"I'll have whatever you're having, stud." Ian squeezed the back of Mickey's neck.

After their late night/ early morning pasta, they had curled up in Mickey's bed, facing each other in silence, their eyes saying all the words that they didn't need to say out loud. Until-

"Fuck!" Ian's abrupt comment startled Mickey, even causing a hitch in Mandy's snoring in the next room over. Softer, he continued, "Your lucky stone, Mick. It's gone." He looked sad. He wanted to fix it.

Mickey brought his hand up to Ian's cheek, brushing it softly. "I don't need it, man. I have you."

Ian covered Mickey's hand with his own, then brought their hands to his lips, kissing each of Mickey's tattooed knuckles gently, like they held the secrets of the universe. Mickey smiled.

"I am the luckiest man in the world." And he was.

#i’m not a writer but i wrote this #i'm really excited about this one tbh. it's my first like true au and !! mermaid !!#also title is from ariel lmao #shameless #gw2021 #ian gallagher #my posts #gallavich #mickey milkovich #ian x mickey #shameless au #gallavich au #gallavich week 2021 #gw2021day2

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spideyskrunkly · 3 years

Text

GPD Chat

Just something for fun

🧸 - Grace

🐍 - Nathan

🎧 - Alex

👮‍♂️ - Ramirez

🍭 - Jones

⭐ - Chief

Warnings: swearing, rude humor, crappy art also no reader here sorry

Everyone's just being mean to eachother

I was kinda inspired by a Wattpad fic

2:24 p.m.

🍭, 👮‍♂️, 🎧, 🐍 and 🧸 have joined the chat

🎧: Everyone in here?

🐍: Present

🧸: Hey

👮‍♂️: Here

🍭: wtf Ramirez where have you been aren't you supposed to be at work????

👮‍♂️: Chief King gave me the day off so I went to the beach

🐍: What's the weather like over there

👮‍♂️: A little chilly but pretty sunny

🧸: I heard they had some animals around

🎧: Like sharks 😨

🧸: No more like just crabs and types that can be seafood

👮‍♂️: I actually got a picture of the crab!

👮‍♂️: I took what's called a selfie

🍭: How is that news

🎧: Shut up Jones

🍭: 😢

🎧: #jonesslander20××

🍭: Wth

🎧: Chile anyways so Ramirez can we see the photo

👮‍♂️: Sure

🐍: What kind of crab is it

👮‍♂️: idk but it's green

🐍: Oh no, stay away I heard they were weird

👮‍♂️: Don't worry Nathan I only took a photo

👮‍♂️:

👮‍♂️: Like I said, a selfie

🎧: THAT'S NOT HOW YOU DO A SELFIE 💀💀

🍭: BRO 💀

🧸: 😂 wtf the angle

👮‍♂️: I'm trying my best here 😭😭

🐍: Y'all c'mon he's old give him a break now he didn't know

🍭: This is that horror movie type shit 💀

🧸: LMAO

🎧: Naw this is one of those anime angles

🧸: ALEX DUDE

🍭: LMFAO ALEX

🐍: I'm ashamed of you all

👮‍♂️: It's okay Nathan this happens all the time

🐍: U should stick up for yourself man

🐍: This is why Jones is rude

🍭: 🙄💅 Bitch, I can be rude to whoever stands against me and that is that

🎧: I don't see crumbs off of his statement

🐍: That's it

🐍 adds ⭐ in the chat

🍭: WTF NATHAN

🧸: Nathan bro

🧸: You can't just do that

🎧 : We're so dead

👮‍♂️: Yikes

🐍: WTF RAMIREZ I WAS DEFENDING YOU 😡😡

👮‍♂️: Calling the chief in here is suicide

🐍: Relax he might be busy

⭐ joins the chat

🍭: bro 😑

🐍: oh shit

⭐: What is this

⭐: Why aren't you all working

👮‍♂️: Damnit Nathan

🎧: Misunderstood the assignment

🧸: Hey Chief

⭐: Hello Grace

⭐: What's up Nathan

🐍: Ramirez is getting bullied but now I'm getting bullied

🎧: fatherless behavior

🍭: Whoa Alex 💀

🧸: Oh damn ok Alex

👮‍♂️: Sheesh Alex 😨

🐍: See

⭐: Quit bullying each other and get to work

🍭: I am now 🧚‍♂️ a non bully 🧚‍♂️

⭐: Shut up Jones

🍭: Now I'm getting bullied after I stopped

🍭: Harassment!!

🎧: #jonesslander20××

🧸: Alex you need to calm down

🍭: YEAH ALEX CALM DOWN

🧸: No Jones I still think you need to shut up

🍭: Grace 😭

🐍: This is getting out of hand

⭐: Well CUT IT OUT

⭐: Get back to work that's an order

⭐: Now how do you turn this off

👮‍♂️: There's a red button that says off sir

⭐: Thank you Ramirez

⭐: Now hang on

⭐: [muted]

🧸: sir??

🐍: I think he disconnected

🎧: No his chatbar is muted, I checked the recent active bar

🍭: HOW???

🍭: Ramirez what did you tell him???

👮‍♂️: I didn't tell him anything I just told him about the red button on the right corner to turn off

🎧: THAT'S THE FUCKING MUTE CHAT BUTTON DUMBASS

👮‍♂️: Why would they even have that button

🎧: I think he was co host or something so maybe he had the option to shut anyone up

🐍: Ramirez you basically told him to shut up

🍭: Down bad

🧸: srs 💀

👮‍♂️: Aw come on guys

⭐: ...

🍭: Wait his icons still glowing

👮‍♂️: Wait so then how can he get out??

🎧: Click options and then click exit

👮‍♂️: Oh ok

⭐:

🍭: OMG I WAS LEAST EXPECTING THAT 💀💀

🧸: See we need to work on angles 😂

🐍: NO BECAUSE WTF

👮‍♂️: 😂😂😂😂

🎧: LMAO BOOMER SHIT 👹

🍭: ALEX CHILL

⭐: GOT IT

⭐: I CAN SEE THE CHAT

⭐: RAMIREZ

👮‍♂️: I'm so sorry sir I thought that was the mute button

⭐: PULL THAT SHIT AGAIN AND YOU ALL ARE GOING TO BE ON FILING DUTY

🍭: Why all of us tf

🧸: Exactly wtf for

⭐: QUIT QUESTIONING ME

⭐: NOW GET TO WORK

⭐: Jones I have an assignment for you so come to my office

🍭: Damnit

🎧: lmao see you in hell

🍭: 🖕

#criminal case #david jeremiah jones #grimsborough #eduardo ramirez #alex turner #nathan pandit #grace delaney #samual king #chief king

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shotofire · 4 years

Text

There’s Just Something About Him

•SHOTO TODOROKI x READER

•Overview: having feelings for the icy hot boy just seemed like a lost cause

•Warnings: just some cursing, meantions of anxiety.

•Season: 3

You’d always found the split haired boy attractive, but nothing ever went beyond that. It seems that even if you wanted it to nerves would just be in the way. Besides, everyone’s working to become pro-hero’s, who has time for a relationship? With all the shit going on you were almost positive that Todoroki didn’t have you in mind at all. The constant sneak attacks from villains, not knowing when the next person is going to get hurt, it was all too much.

Atleast that’s what you tried to convince yourself. The sweet, quiet boy who’d caught your eye since the first day of school just couldn’t possibly like you. He couldn’t possibly let a thought like that even make it halfway into his head. You’d lost hope a couple months into school, realizing fate definitely wasn’t on your side.

The two of you never got partnered up or even in the same group. It’s as if something is telling you it’s not meant to be. Sure you’d taken your own initiative and made conversation with the boy, but it’s always short lived. He wasn’t the best at talking unless he was on an adrenaline rush during a practice scenario. You had never gotten the luck of him wanting to use your quirks together either.

It truly felt hopeless.

You tried your best not to dwell on these things. If it was meant to be it just would’ve happened by now. Right?

The thoughts left your mind as you walked with your fellow classmates. Today is an exciting day, it was time to move into the new dorms. It took way too much convincing with your family, but eventually they caved in. You knew it’d be hard, they’re just worried about you. At this point the whole world was worried about all of the UA students safety. But everyone can agree that dorms are the safest it can get with all of the new high tech security.

You all stopped, admiring the new tall building in front of you. Knowing Todoroki was going to be in the same building as you every night had your anxiety on edge. But you were also... excited? For what, you had no idea. It was just a swirl of emotions.

Oh no, he’s gonna see my puffy morning eyes.

The happy chatter was cut short when Mr. Aizawa started talking about hero licenses, something that seemed to slip everyone’s minds. He was rather intimidating, eyes stern and serious. It sent a wave of uneasiness throughout the group. He knew the whole class was aware of the plan to save Bakugou, and he wasn’t happy. You stare at him with legs beginning to tremble.

His words cut deep as he threatened the possibility of expelling the entire class. You definitely wouldn’t put it past him, he seems like the type. But, as he said, due to All Might’s retirement the need for hero’s was strong. He couldn’t just get rid of such potential.

You looked at Todoroki’s face and it was frozen, he seemed more worried than anyone else. His heterochromia eyes stayed fixed on Mr. Aizawa, and you couldn’t help but let yourself take in his features. Sure you see the boy almost everyday but it’s hard to get good long looks when you’re sitting in class, he’d easily feel your gaze. There’s already been a couple times where he’s caught you and the embarrassment was too much to handle again.

His jaw was cleanched and sharp as ever. You just loved it. You wondered if it was weird to think about running your slim fingers along the bone of his jaw, it was just so beautiful.

“(y/n), are you even listening to me? Or are you just going to stare at Todoroki?”

In that moment it felt like you were going to throw up. All eyes shot to you, including Todoroki. Mr. Aizawa was a real ass sometimes but this definitely was the worst thing hes ever done to you, and he’d made you fall on your face after taking away your quirk infront of the whole class. That was absolutely nothing compared to this.

“I- uh, I-I wasn’t, I just-“ you were totally at loss for words. You’d never been more embarrassed in your life. The heat on your face was hotter than ever, and you knew it was visible as well.

Mr. Aizawa rolled his eyes, no longer caring about the predicament, “Anyways, that’s all. Look alive, enjoy your new home.”

That statement didn’t help anyone’s nerves after his little intimidation speech, but you had it the worst. Your face was still red and you could feel your heartbeat in your ears. Today was not going the way you hoped, and you didn’t dare even peak at Todoroki. You couldn’t help but think he thought you were weird. A girl he barely talks to constantly staring at him, there’s no way he didn’t think that.

The speech about where the boys and girls were was given, including where everything else was. But you could hardly pay attention focus on anything, and you didn’t dare look up.

It was time to decorate your rooms and make it your own, and you couldn’t be more relieved. Finally away from that embarrassment, even though it was waiting for you on the other side of your closed door.

“damnit,” you cursed. No one was going to forget that and you knew it. And the girls were beyond nosey when it came to crushes, especially Ashido.

After a couple hours of getting things together there was a knock on your door. You immediately froze. It’s like you had forgotten where you were and what had happened for a little bit, but of course you were quickly brought back to reality.

“Who is it?” You asked.

“Its Uraraka, can I come in?”

Shes always the sweetest and you knew she wouldn’t bug you about anything. Especially after seeing the way you reacted. Uraraka always had her suspicions that you found Todoroki cute, your eyes practically lit up everytime he did something.

You granted her permission and continued to put your pillows neatly on the bed. She was in her pj’s but definitely seemed wide awake.

“Oh wow, your room is so cute (y/n)! Nothing compared to mine,” her smile was huge. You just adored her, she always brightened up your mood.

“Thank you so much Uraraka, you’ll have to show me your room later before that is confirmed,” you smiled back.

“Oh course! Actually, speaking of rooms, that’s what I came here for. The girls and I convinced the guys to show us their rooms and we kinda turned it into a little contest. Wanna join?”

Her request was extremely appealing. You immediately wondered what Todoroki’s room looked like, and now was your opportunity to see it. But the nerves were still there, and the embarrassment was even stronger. You just couldn’t face everyone right not, especially Todoroki’s. He probably didn’t want your creep self in there anyways.

“Thanks for asking Uraraka, but i’m very tired. I was just planning on finishing my room and crashing. But I still would like to see your room sometime tomorrow,” you said while trying to hold your smile. But she could see the said frown behind it, but she didn’t want to bother you any further. She could only imagine how she’d react and feel if Mr. Aizawa did that to her. She’d be completely horrified.

“You got it, see you tomorrow (y/n). Sleep well!”

She leaves, shutting the door behind her. Your smile quickly fades and your shoulders fall limp.

I really wish I could see his room, I bet it’s awesome.

In all honestly you figured Todoroki would be relieved you didn’t show. God, class tomorrow was going to be hell. You just knew it, there’s no way you’d be able to focus knowing the whole class knows you’re a freak who can’t keep your eyes off the icy hot boy.

You pushed your thoughts aside, ignoring them to the best of your ability. You attempted to sleep, but the constant stamper of footsteps above you and outside your door was keeping you from the world of dreams. The world where assholes like Mr. Aizawa didn’t completely humiliate you.

Just as sleep started to creep up on you, there was another knock on your door. It was soft, and you immediately knew it wasn’t Uraraka. You sat up in the darkness, reaching for your bedside lamp. It faintly lit the room with a yellow glow, and made a light buzzing noise. You were too tired to speak up and ask who it was, so you forced yourself out of bed.

Maybe it was Momo, she did say she was looking forward to seeing your room. You pushed your wild hair out of your face before opening the door. And when you saw who was standing there a sharp breath immediately got caught in your throat. You let out a light cough.

“Todoroki?” you asked confused. He was all alone, no one with him. The lights in the hallway were out, one could only assume the competition was over and everyone else had gone to bed. Yet here he is, standing before you.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he says as if it’s the most normal thing ever. You didn’t know what to say, he’d never even approached you first. But he can knock on your door late at night to talk to you?

You looked at him in disbelief. In that moment you realized how little you knew about this boy, and how odd this situation was.

“What time is it?” You asked, completely ignoring what he said. He huffed, he knew you’d be difficult. You two may not talk much but he’s good at observing. He knew you more than you’d think.

“Almost 12, not too late. Can I talk to you?” This time he asked, therefore making it harder to avoid.

“Uh, I-In here?” You asked.

You couldn’t help but think he was here to tell you to stop being a creep. He wasn’t interested in you and would really appreciate it if you could stop with the creepy stares.

“Anywhere is fine,” he answers.

At those words, you move aside. Widening the door so that he can come in. The smell of vanilla hit you in the face as he walked past, and his eyes immediately began to observe your room.

Todoroki is in my room... what the actual fuck is going on!?

His hand comes up to point at your wall, “Did you draw those?”

Your eyes dart to the colorful art pinned to your wall.

“Y-Yes.”

The constant stuttering was making you loose your mind. But when your anxiety is this high you can’t manage to think straight. Not even one word can come out without a struggle.

“I like them.”

You swallow, hard. He probably heard it. The room was so quiet without one of you talking, unbearably quiet. Without words the only sound was the faint buzzing of your lamp you’d turned on only a few minutes ago.

“Oh, uh, Thanks,” a blush began to creep onto your face. Your hand came up to cover your face as you looked down. You knew you looked odd in the moment, but it was better than him seeing how much he can effect you so easily.

Todoroki looked at you with sweet eyes, although you couldn’t see them due to your current state. He thought you looked cute right now, all bashful. That’s something he has always liked about you. Your cheeks got red so easily when you were embarrassed, nervous, flustered, even when you were tired.

He noticed these things because you interested him, you always had. You were way too cute and sweet to not catch his attention. He just truly sucked when it came to talking to girls. Especially pretty girls like you.

“I, um,” this time it was Todoroki at a loss for words. He had a plan before he came in, but now as he stood in your room it was much harder to think clearly.

You looked up at him, his hand was raking through his hair. He seemed almost... nervous.

Why the hell would he be nervous?

“I was uh wondering if you, uh, would like to,” he took a deep breath to clear his mind. He was stuttering too much and overthinking, it was just a simple question he was trying to get out.

He locked eyes with you, “Would you like to go grab some food after school tomorrow?”

Your mouth fell open, but you quickly covered it with your hand. There was no way, no damn way.

“You mean, j-just me and you?” You asked, making sure you were interpretating this correctly.

“Yeah, Yeah,” He nervously laughs, “Like a uh, date.”

Like a what now?

There was absolutely no way this was real, you had to be dreaming.

“is this a joke?” You ask, but you meant to only think it.

His eyes widen and he quickly began waving his hands, “W-What? No, of course not! I really want to go on a date with you, I think it’d be fun. Plus you’re super sweet and pre-“ he stops himself.

C’mon man, you’re gonna scare her off by being too forward.

“Yeah, i’d really like that Todoroki,” your smile was surpressed by your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. At this point you wanted to jump for joy, but you didn’t want to scare this chance away.

“Okay cool, so after school. Tomorrow, you and me,” his nervous laugh comes back, “on a date.”

You can’t help but giggle, you’d never seen Todoroki so nervous before. Not in this way at least. It was one of the cutest things you’d ever seen.

“You got me after school Todoroki,” you giggled again, “You and me on a date.”

And with that, the two of you said your goodbyes, which were a little awkward considering the two of you kept letting nervous laughter slip.

As soon at the door shut, you let out a happy squeal. It didn’t even bother you that he might of heard it, you really didn’t care. You were so overjoyed that nothing could kill your mood.

On the other side of the door Todoroki had the geekiest smile on his face. He walked to his room completely satisfied. He did it, he finally asked the girl he liked on a date.

“Hell yeah,” he whispered to himself.

This definitely was heading in the right direction.

#todoroki shouto #shouto todoroki #bnha todoroki #imagine #fanfic #anime #love #romance #x reader #todoroki shoto imagine #todoroki x reader #tordoroki imagine #tororoki fanfic #todoroki x y/n #tordoroki shoto x reader #boku no hero fanfic #boku no hero academia #boku no hero imagines #boku no hero x reader

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bwingus · 3 years

Text

Striker helps asher get home.

(This was an rp between me and @nightmares-and-preys . They also made the cover art. Check them out :3)

(Also, just a warning. Striker acts way different than he does in helluva boss. Hes nicer, and says things that contradict the cannon. Keep this in mind while reading this)

Just another day.. iiis what you'd think before the worst possible scenario happens to ya.

A teen was walking into their home as some of their siblings grabbed and dragged them off into their mini library.

"Guys, what the hell!?"

"Shush, You need to help us! We need you to read this spell for us" The sister said.

It made them confused but they nodded. "Alright..? What is it-"

"It's just a shrinking spell, We want to see if it actually works on this apple here."

"Uh- okay.." They stared at their siblings before starting the spell. It was going well until the brother knocked into them.

It made them mess up the words. "Eh!? D-damnit, Brot- w- WHATS GOING O-"

They had immediately vanished before their siblings eyes.

Next thing they knew, They felt a scorching hot pain.

The teen shakenly stood as they looked around. A horrific, desert like hellscape in front of them.

"What the hell..? Is- I-iiyy- Why is everything so big-" They winced before covering the bright red light from their eyes. "W-where am I!?- what's that loud noise-" They froze before looking back at the flaming horse that was approaching quickly. "O-oh hell!!" They jolted before fleeing from the horse's path. Catching a glimpse of it's horned rider.

"I-im in hell..!?"

Striker had been riding his horse, bombproof, when he smelt something extremely interesting. He smelt a human. "Now how in satan's name did a human get into hell?" He thought. He looked around, but didnt notice anything. That was until he saw something small, and human shaped run across the ground, and hide behind a can. So the human was small. Extremely small. He smelt the rank smell of magic aswell as the humans scent. They must have been teleported here, and accidentally shrunk themself in the process, or the other way around. He hoped off of bombproof, and then took a few careful steps towards the can. He didn't want to scare the human away. He was rather hungry, and this could be his next meal. Once he was about 2 feet away, the small human peeked out form behind the can. He could see the fear in their eyes. But somehting was different. This human looked young. Like, in their teens young. Now, if theres one rule striker had, it was that he didnt hurt kids, and he counted teens as kids. So right then and there he decided that he was gonna help this kid. He took one more step, and then decided to talk to her. "Hey, kid. Could you come out from behind that can? I want to help you, but I'll need you to come out form behind there." He said in the nicest way possible. "H-how do I know I can trust you?" She said, peeking out from behind the can. "Well, I'm the only person around for miles, and haven't tried to kill you yet. That's pretty trustworthy when it comes to hell." He told her, hoping that would convince her. "O-ok." She says as she walks out from behind the can. "Just stay there hun. I'll come over there and pick ya up." He said as he walked over, and gently picked her up. Once he had her at chest level he set her in his flat palm. "So, how did you even get here in the first place?" He asked her. "Well, my siblings wanted me to test a shrinking spell on an apple, and one of my brothers bumped me and made me mess up the spell. I guess it caused a shrinking and teleportation spell." She said sadly. "Oh I'm so sorry hun. I know a way to get ya home. Itll just take me a bit to get there. So, I need somewhere safe to transport you..." he said as he checked for anywhere he could hide her. If he hid her in a pocket, other demons would catch her scent. There is one other place he knew he could hide her, but he knew she would absolutely freak out if he put her into there. "Hey kid, do you trust me?" He asked hesitantly. "S-sure I guess. Why do you ask?" She asked, slightly frightened. "Becuase, I'm about to do something that will break your trust..." he says as he shoves her in his mouth. He wanted to get this over with as quickly as possible. He licked her around with his snake like tounge. He could feel her struggling, and could hear her begging to be let out, which made him feel like shit. Once she was slippery enough, he flicked his head back, and swallowed all of her in one gulp. She continued to squirm and shout even while going down his throat. The squirming actually hurt his throat. He felt her pass his collarbone, and then plop into his stomach. He felt her bang in the walls, and then heard her scream. "Please let me out of here! I dont wanna be in a demons stomach all day! It stinks in here!". That was unexpected. He thought she was gonna be scared of being digested. But it seems she just doesnt wanna be in his stomach becuase it stinks, and she just doesnt wanna be in there. Interesting. "I'm sorry kid, but that's the safest place you can be. If I had you in a pocket, another demon would have smelt your scent, and taken you. I'd rather not have that happen." He said as he rubbed the bulge she made in his belly. "Also, whats your name kid?" He asked her. "You can call me ash. What's your name?" She said. "The names striker." He answered. He then felt an extremely odd feeling. He could feel her rubbing his belly from the inside. He blushed and then started to purr. "A-alright kid. I best be getting ya home." He said as he hopped back on bombproof, and made his journey to I.M.P.

Time skip to when striker gets to IMP

Striker stopped bombproof in the parking lot, and then stepped up to the front door of the building. "Well, this isn't gonna end well..." striker said nervously. "What's wrong striker?" She asked. "Well, the guy who can help get you home, well, me and him have some bad blood." He said with a sigh. "W-well, what did you do?" She asked, slightly scared. "Well, I tried to kill his boyfriend, and tried to kill his employees." He said nervously, as he hoped that wouldnt scare her. "O-oh. Alright. Well, why did you do that?" She asked. "Well, I was hired to kill his boyfriend, and his employees got in the way. I'm tryin to make amends though." He said as he walked into the building, and made his way up to blitz's office. He peeked inside, and saw blitz sleeping at his desk. He opened the door, and walked up to the desk. He didnt know how to use the magic book, so he would have to wake blitz up. He shook blitz's shoulder, trying to wake him up. It seems it worked, as blitz slowly opened his eyes, and said. "Oh hey striker... wait STRIKER!?! WHAT in the FUCK are you doing here!?" He yelled as he pointed a pistol right at strikers stomach. "I wouldnt do that if I were you blitz." Striker said with a menacing snarl. "I got a human kid in there, and I'm tryin to get them back to earth. And i need your help to do it." Blitz lowered his gun. "Wow striker, I didnt think you would stoop low enough to eat kids. But I'm guessing your asking me to use the grimoire to teleport the kid back?" He said as he went and grabbed the grimoire, and started flipping through the pages, looking for the spell. "Mhm. That's exactly why I came here. I would have used the book myself, but I dont know how to." He said as he scratched the back of his head. "Well, I'll be in the meeting room, getting the spell ready. You should probably spit her out." Blitz said as he walked towards the door. "Before you go blitz, you should get a growth spell ready too. Shes currently tiny." Striker said as he started to cough, trying to spit her up. "Sure thing." Blitz said as he walked out the room. Striker eventually spits her into his hand, and miraculously she was sleeping. He carrys her into the meeting room, where blitz is standing on the table holding the book, which was currently glowing. "I got those spells ready. Can you give her to me?" Striker hands blitz ash, and then sits in one of the chairs. "Also, just so you know striker, I'm only doing this for the girl. Once shes back home, I won't hesitate to kill you." Blitz said as he activated the growth spell. "I know that blitz. I'll be leaving once shes home anyway. Now, let me wake her up" he walked over and shook ash awake. "Mornin sleepyhead. Your bout to go home. Blitz, get the portal ready for her." Blitz opens the portal, and it leads to ash's house. "Welp. It's your time to leave kid." Blitz says. "Hold on now. I need to say goodbye." I hop on the table, and give ash a big bear hug. "I'll see ya later kid." Ash gets up, and then walks towards the portal. Before she walks through it, she waves to striker and blitz. "Bye you two!" And then she walks through, and then portal closes behind her. Striker walks towards the door, as he remembers what blitz said to him. "Welp. I guess I best be leaving." He whistles, and bombproof bursts through the window. He hops on bombproof, and then smashes through the door, rinding off back to the wrath ring. "Oh come the fuck on!!!! I just had all this fixed!!!" Blitz yells out.

The end.

#striker #safe vore #helluva boss #im literally simpimg for striker rn like huhhhhhhh

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thevindicativevordan · 4 years

Text

On Supergirl

Figured I should put up my thoughts about Kara in the wake of her first film appearance being announced, and the final season of her TV show fast approaching. Short version is: Kara is very cool and DC needs to stop messing with her.

My Introduction to Kara

I was introduced to Kara the way most millennials/Gen Zers were I imagine, via the Loeb Superman/Batman arc which brought the traditional Kara Zor-El Supergirl take into Post-Crisis continuity, after years of DC attempting to have a “Supergirl” without violating the editorial mandate that Kal needed to be the literal “Last Son of Krypton” (an example of one of the dumb ways DC fucked Kara over). Story goes that one day Dan Didio was in line at the Superman ride at Six Flags (I love that ride even though it’s stolen my glasses every time I’ve ridden it, even when I left them in a locker!). The ride had signs that talked about various Superman characters. Didio was reading the entry for Supergirl where it talked about her not being Clark’s cousin but instead some weird merge of alien shapeshifter, angel, and human girl, and he realized how fucking stupid that was, and he went back to the office and told Loeb to bring Kara back.

Years later I would also be standing in line at the Six Flags Superman ride (probably at a different park location but who knows?) as a youngster and would read the new Supergirl sign that trumpeted that Superman had a cousin who shared all his powers, an update reflecting the new Loeb origin. I thought she sounded pretty cool, made a note to see if my library had any Supergirl stories next time I visited, then got on the Superman ride and promptly lost my glasses like an idiot because I wanted to take them off while I was riding and pretend I was changing from my “disguise” into Superman mid flight. My dad grounded me for this afterwards, but it gave me a funny story to tell at family get togethers and isn’t that what Six Flags is all about?

A month later (and with spiffy new glasses), my mom dropped me off at a new library next to where she worked, and they had one of the best Superman collections I’ve ever seen to this day. I was in heaven and while reading every Superman book I could find (I couldn’t check them out because I didn’t have a card, my mom’s card didn’t cover the area the library was in, and my mom wouldn’t have checked them out anyway since comics were “too violent”), I found the trade collecting Kara’s new origin. I read it and I thought both she and Superman were really cool, and Batman was a punk who had to beat Darkseid by cheating, the loser. Turner’s art to my young eyes was the best I had ever seen, and the panels got engraved into my brain.

I still get downright nostalgic whenever I see Turner Superman or Supergirl stuff. I also got my parents to rent the animated movie adaption of the Superman/Batman arc from Blockbuster (remember those?), and that sealed the deal. Seeing Kara hold her own against Darkseid convinced me she was as cool as her cousin. Next time my mom dropped me off at the library next to her workplace, I went looking for Supergirl stuff to read. I found the first volume of her new volume by Joe Kelly taking place after the Loeb arc and dove in.

It was... weird. 5 years later I might have enjoyed it but at the time I was majorly put off. Kara took a secret identity for a day and then ditched it because it was “stupid” and the kids bullied her. She was always getting into fights with Kal, and there was this weird plot that I couldn’t follow about how her dad had sent her to kill Kal, maybe or maybe not? Also she could grow crystals which I thought was dumb, and said she was stronger than her cousin which I couldn’t buy for a second given he looked like he was carved out of marble, and she looked like she relied on sunlight instead of food. I put the volume back on the shelf and kinda gave up on reading the character after that for a while.

I followed her via the DC wiki updates just like I did Superman, and everything I read seemed dumb and convoluted. She was split in two, moped around a lot, made out with an alternate version of her cousin, and basically just flopped about the same way the rest of the Superfamily did during the 00s. Nothing made me think I had made a mistake dropping Kara until I read the latest update to her wiki page.

I was super into what I was reading about the Busiek/Johns era of Superman online. Lex was back and making a big revenge scheme that involved all the other Rogues! Old Superman Rogues were getting revamped and made cool again! Johns reintroduced Brainiac and made him a big threat, with Kal and Kara teaming up to fight him! Busiek was revamping Prankster and telling big ambitious Superman stories! For the first time in a long while, the consensus on the Internet was that Superman was good again. My “home” library had zero Marvel books and no Superman or Batman books, all their DC stuff was Flash or Green Lantern, mainly written by Johns. Insane to think back on now. My hopes that because Johns was involved with Superman, Superman books would show up at my library were fulfilled. They started bringing in Busiek and Johns collections, and someone there also ordered Sterling Gates’ first volume of Supergirl, and I checked everything out since I was old enough to have my own library card, and my parents were worried more about the violent video games I was playing rather than comics.

I read everything and loved it. I also really liked Gates’ take on Kara. She was still an imperfect teenager but she wasn’t insufferably angsty or constantly fighting with Kal. She was going to give the secret identity another try and Lana had “adopted” her. It’s funny remembering how I enjoyed all that given my current thoughts on how Kara should work, but it was great at the time. I liked Gates introducing new foes for Kara, some classic Superman Rogues adapted for her like Bizzarogirl, others crafted specifically for her like Reactron. Gates’ basically rekindled my enjoyment of Kara the same way Busiek & Johns rekindled my enjoyment of Superman.

Of course it ended terribly like everything Superman-related seems to.

I’ve got a whole post I want to do about New Krypton and what came after. In short that is the most blatant example of “hitting the reset button” that I’ve ever seen. All the potential got wasted, and afterwards everything except Lex’s Action Comics stuff just didn’t appeal to me. Gates got booted off Kara for Nick Spencer who ended up leaving himself later, a promising Teen Titans line-up with Kara on it didn’t happen, and the last proper Pre-Flashpoint Superfamily story was a crappy team-up with Doomsday against Bigger Doomsday (thank God for Cornell’s final Luthor/Superman confrontation at least). When news of the reboot arrived, I was honestly happy. The Superline needed an enema.

Controversial opinion time: I liked New 52 Supergirl. It’s weird because a lot of the stuff I hated about Kelly’s run was here, and a lot of the stuff I loved about the Gates’ run was not. This was angry, moody, emotional Kara again, fighting with Kal and not fond of Earth. But I was in my teens at this point, and I didn’t want happy go-lucky Superman or Supergirl. I wanted my heroes angry, scared of the future, ready to go out there and smash some cars. Morrison’s Action Comics was 100% my jam (still is once I really understood the deeper meaning beneath the work) and this Kara felt like a natural fit for this universe. Plus we got Asrar on art and that guy made it damn pretty to look at, lots of cool science fiction stuff going on, even with the dumb H’el storyline.

I loved all the new Rogues Kara got. I loved her new Fortress under the ocean. I loved how traumatized she was by the loss of Krypton, that she wanted more than anything to go home, that her cousin was like a stranger to her since they had been apart for so long. I found all of that incredibly relatable. A lot of the New 52 Supergirl stories might have been schlock but it was my type of schlock damnit, and I enjoyed it!

I kept with her New 52 series all the way through the Red Daughter Saga (which I loved). As someone who grew up on Johns GL (since that was the only comics my home library had), seeing a Supercharacter join a Lantern Corp was the hypest thing ever. I loved the finale about Kara finally letting go of her anger and losing the ring while smashing her foe into the sun, it was incredibly cathartic for me as an angry teen myself. I finally stopped following her series sometime after since I was no longer enjoying the Superline or really DC as a whole. It wasn’t until I heard that New 52 Superman died and the “old” Superman was back, that I checked back into DC.

DC Rebirth & How I Think Kara Should Work

I did not enjoy Supergirl Rebirth, and I think I’ll talk about my problems with it alongside how I think Kara as a character should work since the two are related. A pet peeve of mine that has formed over the years is this: I don’t like it when Superfamily members get turned into Clark clones. Kon wearing glasses and going to Smallville High. Kara going to high school and being involved in journalism. Jon more or less being written as a copy of his dad personality-wise. I hate that kind of stuff because it’s boring. What’s the point of a Superfamily if everyone is just copying Clark? It also doesn’t fit the characters especially in Kara’s case. Why the hell does she want to be a journalist? Were there journalists on Krypton? I don’t remember ever seeing one! Shouldn’t she want to be, I dunno, a scientist? That seems to have been the El family tradition, wouldn’t she have been groomed for that?

This one-off by Shea is honestly the only acceptable outcome for Kara going into journalism for me. She realizes she’s just copying her cousin and switches to something she wants to do. So Orlando copying the show, which already basically turned Kara into an expy of her cousin, just did not appeal to me at all. What had worked for me under Gates way back when was not clicking for me this time. I wanted to see Kara embody the principles of the S-shield in a different way than her cousin did. So I really enjoyed when Rebirth ended and we moved into the Bendis era with Andrekyo relaunching the title as Kara in space.

Kara in space has always felt like a good fit for me. Unlike Kal I’ve come to believe that Kara really shouldn’t be all that fond of Earth. For him it’s home, but for her it’s just where she ended up after her real home got destroyed. I think Kara works well as a sort of nomad, occasionally making stops back home to Earth to check on her cousin, but otherwise? She’s more comfortable out in space than she could ever be on Earth. Out in space she can be Kryptonian (which is what she should think of herself as in contrast to Clark being torn between his Kryptonian biology and human upbringing, and Jon/Kon identifying as human), be her true self, not have to pretend to be human to fit in. Kara founding a moon refuge was one of the best ideas for her that I’ve seen, I would love if DC made her Future State refugee center on the moon canon. I’m excited for more Kara adventures in space with the upcoming Tom King story.

Also love that her and Krypto are getting tied together, if they don’t want to use Krypto in Superman’s stuff, let her have him! Bring on cosmic adventurer Supergirl!

Personality & Other Traits

Kara to me should be more hot-tempered than her cousin. All the Superfamily members should have a temper in my opinion, I see that as the “Deadly Sin” of Superman and his family. But while Kal is like a simmering pot that will explode if it’s left cooking for too long, Kara is like dynamite. Light her fuse at your own peril because she will go off on you.

I also like the idea of Kara being rash. Kal’s got a maturity that came from over a decade of having to live with Lex Luthor constantly getting away with all his evil schemes. He’s patient because he’s been forced to be. Kara? If you ask for her help she’ll give it, but beware because she doesn’t really care about the long term impacts of her decisions. She’s an invulnerable teenager after all.

Really liked that Venditti Annual where Kara got tutored in history by a reincarnation of Hawkman. Kara having a passion for history is a neat trait, would be nice to see her teach Kal or Jon some Kryptonian lore, or have her lead a Kryptonian holiday celebration for the Superfamily because she’s the only one who remembers how to do it.

Sexuality wise I know a lot of people ship Kara and Lena on account of the chemistry between the two in the show. I haven’t watched the show myself but I’m fine with making Kara bisexual, the Superfamily could use some LGBT+ rep, and Lena hasn’t done anything of worth as a villain, so undo that and throw the two together. If we’re letting Harley and Ivy get away with murder I think we can let Lena off the hook too, undo the Ultrawoman weirdness and put the two together. Could be fun seeing the two building that moon refuge together.

All in all I think Kara is a great character who is a stronger embodiment of the immigrant experience than even her cousin in some ways. I hope King does a good job with her, she’s treated better than her cousin on the film side, and that overall the 20s are a better decade for Supergirl than the 10s were.

#supergirl #superman #lena luthor #krypto #dc comics

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darkeninganon · 3 years

Text

(So, this storyline now has a name; it is the Ender Family AU! Dream’s design was based off @winifreyd and their White Enderman Dream! They are awesome and do amazing artwork, and this story would probably not exist if they did not share their art! Warning for gore, blood, very heavy torture, passing out (as a fear/pain response), forced drugging/drinking (Potions are canonically drugs/alcohol), unwanted contact (Dream doesn’t like people touching his fur), and (there is no nice way of saying this) flaying. If you spot something else, message me and I will add it and apologize profusely. The beginning is deceptively sweet btw, just as another small warning.)

Ranboo looked between Tommy and Tubbo. His face was burning, but only one side showed a tinge of color.

"You mean you really don't remember staring down Quackity?" Tommy found it hard to believe, and was currently the main person opposing such an excuse.

"Really, I don't! You know how much I hate eye contact."

"He's got a point..."

Michael oinked in agreement. The trio were currently in the zombie piglin's room, Ranboo holding the child as the little monster drew something. Tubbo was kneeling next to the table, head partially resting on said table. Tommy was the only one standing, arms crossed, glaring at Ranboo.

Ranboo sighed, shaking his head. "Even if you don't believe me, it is the truth."

"Oh, I believe you, I just want to know why this is the first time we are hearing about it!" Tommy hissed, throwing his hands up. "I mean, if you hide that, what else are you hiding?!"

"Oh come on Tommy! Ranboo wouldn't-"

"Quite a bit because I would rather NOT be the reason someone kills Tubbo or Michael." Tubbo snapped his head towards Ranboo, horror plastered on his face.

"WHAT?!"

Michael snorted, holding up his picture. It depicted Ranboo holding a red square, and speaking in scribbles. Ranboo groaned as Michael proudly displayed his picture. The baby zombie piglin still had yet to learn to speak, but his writing skills were far beyond where most thought he should be at.

Tubbo stared at the picture, clearly concerned. "Michael, sweetie, have you seen daddy act weird?" Michael nodded, borderline enthusiastically. The little zombie pigling then grabbed a sheet of paper, scribbling most of it in red crayon before writing three large letters on it, and handing it to Ranboo.

Tommy and Tubbo stared.

"So, I guess I blew something up." Ranboo stated, staring at the crudely drawn TNT. He looked back to Tubbo and Tommy; "I think it's about time to tear down the walls of your old house."

"Damnit Ranboo!"

"I'm sorry?!"

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Dream stared, listening to the murmur of Quackity and Sam talking outside the wall of lava. It is a new day, Quackity is back. Dream could only wonder what Quackity was going to do today. Maybe he'll take my teeth, that would make sense. Or perhaps my other eye. Yeah, that sounds like something they could justify doing. Dream sat up as the lava fell away, Sam and Quackity standing at attention. Quackity was decked out in netherite armor. Enchanted netherite armor. Dream's ears fell back as a low growl fell from his chest.

Quackity made his way across the pit of lava, standing across from Dream with nothing in his hands but a potion and a pair of shears. Once the lava covered the opening again, Sam came through, glaring at Dream.

"Huh, what's the special occasion?" Dream smirked, tilting his head. Of course Sam; dear, dear Warden Sam; would want to help Quackity. "Don't tell me I actually scared you two." The prisoner chuckled, glancing between the two.

Quackity held out the potion; it looked like mud mixed with glitter. "Drink this."

"Excuse me?"

"Dream, do as Quackity says. I really don't want to have to force you." Sam stated, monotone. Dream stared at the warden, incredulous.

"No! I'm not drinking anything that crazy moron brings in here!" Sam sighed, striding over to Dream. "Get the hell away from me!" Sam went behind Dream, locking the prisoner's arms in an uncomfortable hold. Dream began yelling, kicking his legs out as Quackity approached. Quackity took Dream's jaw into a tight hold, digging his nails right into the joint and forcing Dream's mouth open. Once that was done, Quackity tore the cork from the bottle, shoving it into Dream's mouth.

Dream gagged, coughing and thrashing in an effort to get the bottle out of his mouth and not swallow the bitter liquid. Eventually, the potion's effects won out over Dream's own desires, his body going limp and his struggles ceasing.

Dream's eye darted around the cell. He wanted to move, wanted to cry out, wanted to not be sitting still. No matter how much he tried though, his body just sat there, even as Quackity removed the bottle and let go of his jaw.

"Hell yeah!" Quackity cheered, throwing the now empty bottle into the lava. "I told you it would work!"

Sam let go, gently resting Dream's head on his lap. "Yeah. You're sure he can't feel anything?" The warden sounded worried as he placed Dream's tongue back in his mouth and closed his jaw.

Quackity chuckled, "Yeah, I'm sure." He dragged his hand through Dream's fur, drawing lines at seemingly random points.

He's lying. Dream wanted to scream, Quackity's hands were cold and he hated as the "visitor" ran against the grain, causing the fur to stand up on end. Sam, he's lying! Please! But he couldn't say anything.

Sam, for his part, was staring at Dream sadly, carefully petting the prisoner as if he didn't co-sign this. He jumped as a hand snatched his wrist, holding it still. Sam looked to Quackity, who was still smiling.

"Seeing as how Dream isn't going to feel it, why don't you feel how soft he is!"

Sam looked at the prisoner, resting helplessly in his lap. Even though Dream's body couldn't move, his eyes were glaring at Sam. Still....

Curiosity won over the Warden as he took off his glove. Even with Dream unable to move, Sam was hesitant to touch the fur. When Quackity had entered the prison, that was all he talked about. It was just fur, what made it so special? What it because it was from Dream, and the prisoner never let anyone touch it?

Quackity groaned, snapping Sam from his thoughts. Without warning, the visitor grabbed Sam's hand and buried it in the mane around Dream's head. Sam could only stare. It was... So freakishly soft.

"Right!?" Sam glanced at Quackity, who was smiling like the cat that got the canary. "Seriously though, seeing as how he's going to be trapped in here for eternity, he really doesn't need this fur. He'll just overheat!"

No, I won't! Sam, please stop this! Tears fell from Dream's eyes, his mind racing. Taking his fur was the one thing he never expected.

Sam nodded, resuming petting Dream. "Just... be as quick as possible."

Quackity nodded as Dream's eyes darted to the man with the shears. "Let's see... Let's start here then!" Quackity stated, opening the shears and pulling Dream's skin right at his hip. Dream watched in horror as Quackity carefully cut a thin layer of skin and fur from his body, pulling and cutting just enough to make a starting point for him to continue. "Man, this is going to take a long while. Sam, would you mind grabbing a few more potions, just to be sure?"

Sam nodded, carefully setting Dream's head down on the obsidian floor, giving the prisoner one last pet before drinking a potion and diving into the lava.

As soon as Sam was gone, Quackity looked at Dream, and slid his hand between the skin he had just cut free, and the lower levels of skin and muscle. Dream tensed, the salt from Quackity's hand burning the fresh wound. "Man, this must really suck for you." The visitor laughed, a cruel smirk coming across his face as he wiggled his fingers in the wound. Dream gave a weak whimper, tear pouring from his eyes as the wound became wider and burned more. "Do you have any idea how hard is was to get the potion just right? Make sure you can't move, can't talk, but also heal you and make sure you can feel it? It was hard, man." Quackity finally removed his hand from the wound, marveling at the lack of blood. "This is probably what Tommy felt like. I have no idea what the afterlife is like, but maybe one day, I'll ask him."

Quackity straightened up as Sam came back, carrying a bag filled to the brim with the potions Quackity had made. The visitor smiled, turning back to Dream and resuming his work. Dream watched, heart racing as he finally saw what his fur and skin hid. Thin muscle hung from bones that showed painfully through in some places. It only took about two minutes for it to look like Dream was wearing a furry shirt or hoodie; a quiet whimper bubbling up from his chest as the first “hem” was finally completed.

Sam snatched a potion from the bag, opening Dream’s mouth and doing his best to make sure the prisoner didn’t drown on the vile liquid. Quackity gave Sam a weird look, getting ready to cut open Dream’s front.

“Really? He has another hour or so on the first potion.” Quackity muttered, pulling the skin up with his fingers, smirking as the muscles underneath twitched in pain.

Sam cast an unseen glance at Quackity, removing the empty bottle and throwing it into the lava. “He must have some form of tolerance, even after all this time. The numbing factor wore off I think.” Sam sounded distant, did Sam even believe his own words? Surely he knew.

“Well then let him deal with it. It’s not our fault he’s weird.” Quackity retaliated, making one final cut right at Dream’s collarbone, stopping as he noticed Sam flinch. “Hey, I’m sure Tommy felt way more pain than whatever little pin pricks this monster is feeling. Need I remind you-”

“No!” Sam winced, “No, I don’t need to be reminded.” He repeated, softer. Through the thick lenses of the mask, Dream could see Sam’s eyes darting between the prisoner and Quackity. Sam went back to petting Dream, unaware he had stopped for so long.

Quackity shrugged, cutting a gracefully curved line around Dream’s collarbones, stopping about halfway on either side. He grabbed Dream’s arms, inspecting both before dropping one to the ground, and making a quick slash around the whole wrist.

Blood poured from the fresh wound, diminishing to a trickle as Sam’s hand wrapped tightly around the small wrist. “Quackity! What the hell?!”

“Wow, language Sam.”

“Screw the language! What the heck were you thinking?! Get the bandages out of the bag now!” Sam glared at the visitor. Removing Dream’s fur was one thing, but getting so close to such areas… Sam would not stand for it.

“Will you relax? Look, it’s already closed!” Quackity pried Sam’s hand away, revealing a thin, bare scar circling Dream’s wrist. “Nothing to get pissy about.” He huffed, grabbing the prisoner’s other hand and doing the same. Sam was quick to cover the wound again, glaring hatefully at Quackity. “Alright. I need you to turn him onto his stomach so I can finish up the neck. I was not going to risk cutting your legs.”

“Quackity…”

“What? Don’t tell me you actually feel bad for this piece of trash.”

Sam looked between the visitor and prisoner. Dream looked terrified. Sam held out his hand. “I’ll take care of it.” Quackity stared at Sam, hesitantly handing him the shears. Quackity watched as the Warden made a shallow cut along the back of the prisoner’s neck, breathing heavily and muttering. Sam practically threw the shears back to Quackity, petting Dream as soon as they left his hands. “There, done.”

Quackity nodded, looking down at the paralyzed prisoner. He struggled to pry Dream’s skin open, humming and inspecting where it connected. Quackity took out a netherite knife, sliding it under the skin and between the muscle.

Dream watched, muscles burning and twitching. A ringing filled his ears, his heart racing, his lungs tight. He couldn’t breathe, and he felt way too hot… no, he was cold… Well, his body was cold, his arms freezing, but his face felt like it was right next to the lava. Sam… Sam something’s wrong… SAM! Sam please! SAM! Dream was suddenly in a void, screaming and wailing filling his head. He blinked, back in the cell. Quackity was further along in removing his skin. He could see his ribs laying right underneath the smooth muscle, his vision flitting to Sam, distress hidden by dark lenses. Sam’s head snapped to look at Quackity, muffled words demanding something. Dream’s mouth was pried open, another bottle shoved down his throat.

Black consumed him again. Back to the cell. Something hard and soft was in his mouth. Sam was holding his head, forcing him to look at the warden. Sam kept calling his name. Black again. Back to Sam. Black again. Sam. Black. Sam. Black. Sam. Black. Cloth?

Dream could feel his mouth was open; he could feel something wrapped around his body, arms, even his legs. Everything hurt. His eyes were wet, not from the cloth.

“S….Sam…?” His voice sounded too quiet. A hands was suddenly placed on his head; a gloveless, unarmored, calloused hand.

“It’s…”

“Sam… I’m sorry… I’m really, really sorry…”

Sam sat there, staring at Dream. Dream’s whole body was covered in tightly bound gauze. He looked almost like a mummy rather than… whatever he was. The only parts of him that still had fur were his head, hands, and knees. Sam had to fight with Quackity over leaving the fur on his knees. Sam sighed, closing his eyes as he took a breath, one hand resting on Dream’s chest while the other continued to pet him. “I know you are. I know.” Sam opened his eyes, staring at the creature laying on the floor before him, “It’s not me you have to apologize to though.”

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

Quackity held up the pure white pelt. He had just finished cleaning it.

“Damn.” Quackity turned, smiling wildly at Schlatt. “Where the fuck did you get a coat like that?” The goat-man ghost lit up a cigarette, reaching out and touching the fur. “Again I say this: Damn.”

Quackity laughed, “I got it from my dear friend in prison.” Schlatt paused in his appraisal of the fur, staring at Quackity as if the still living man had grown another head. “Not like he needed it with how hot that place is. Besides,” Quackity pulled the fur away, brushing the soft hairs against his face. He froze, jolting to look at Schlatt, “Did you know his fur was this soft?”

The ghost stared, Quackity had a look to him that made Schlatt happy he was already dead. “No…” He spoke softly, lowering the cigarette he had. “I had no clue.” Schlatt watched as Quackity skipped way, the beautiful white pelt held close. Schlatt shook his head. Not for the first time in his life was he thankful that Quackity was on his side.

#My writing #Trigger Warning #content warning #drugs cw #drugged #tw torture #be sure to heed the warnings y'all!#Ender Family AU #dream smp #DSMP #Awesamdude #Quackity #Ranboo #Tommyinnit #Tubbo_#Dreamwastaken #White Enderman! Dream #michael (dsmp)

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obx-adventures · 4 years

Text

The Introverted Twin

Summary - Being John B’s bookish twin isn’t easy. Especially with my best friend, Pope, being weird about me getting closer with JJ.

Flashbacks in italics

Warning: Mild smut at the end 😁

Catch up here: Ch 1, Ch 2, Ch 3, Ch 4

——

Chapter 5

When I get back to the Chateau, I run inside to find JJ. John B calls out for me but I ignore him. I’m on a mission and not even my brother can stop me. Once I determine JJ isn’t at my house, I jump back in the van and drive to the beach. I finally find him 30 minutes later sitting alone on a pier, lost in his own thoughts.

I give myself a pep talk and remember what Sarah told me. I walk over and sit beside him, nervously reaching out to take his hand.

“Hi JJ,” I start tentatively. “I’m sorry I ran from you earlier.”

“It’s ok, Y/N,” he mutters. It makes me anxious that he is using my real name. “It’s probably best that you left.”

“J, what’s wrong?” JJ’s eyes are red and tears are streaming down his face.

“John B and I got into it after you left. He called me out on some stuff and then told me to leave.”

“Was it about me?” I whisper, afraid that I’m the source of his pain.

He doesn’t answer but turns to look at me. I reach out to brush away his tears and he shudders at my touch. We get lost in each other’s eyes for a few minutes. His are filled with emotion but he looks so conflicted. I’m overcome with the desire to kiss him, but I can’t risk doing that until I know where he stands.

“JJ, you’ve known me for a long time,” I begin anxiously. “You know that I have a hard time expressing how I feel, especially when it’s something big. But it’s you so I’m going to take a leap of faith. Is that ok?”

“Sunshine, you can tell me anything.” JJ gently squeezes my hand to encourage me.

“I… umm, shit, ok… I… damnit, I don’t know why I can’t just say what I want to,” I exclaim, frustrated with myself.

“How about I go first? Give you some time to find the words?”

I can only nod in response, frozen in my own anxiety. He’s staring into my eyes and it’s the most intimate moment of my life. It feels like he’s boring into my soul and I’m worried he won’t like what he sees.

“I want you,” he confesses. “All of you. Your amazing brain, your beautiful heart, your gorgeous eyes. I want every part of you even though I know I shouldn’t. I know that you deserve so much more than I can give you. You are supposed to be the one to get out of here and I would be an anchor around your waist. I’ve been trying to push this down and let you go. But then you look at me like you are right now and it takes everything in me not to kiss you.”

His admission gives me the boost of confidence I need to act. Before I can think too much about it, I lean in and kiss him. His lips are salty from the ocean and his tears, but they are soft and gentle. Our lips move together slowly at first and I feel his hand reach up to cradle my cheek. His thumb brushes along my jaw while he runs his tongue along my lower lip. I open my mouth to give him access and he deepens the kiss as my hands reach up to run my fingers through his hair. When we break apart to catch our breath, I lean my forehead to his and sigh in contentment.

“JJ, I think I’m in love with you,” I whisper.

“But I’m not good enough for you, Sunshine,” he whines as he pulls back from me.

“I’m the only person who gets to decide who’s good enough for me. And you’re the person I want. You pull me out of shell and pay attention to the details of my life. You planned this amazing trip to the planetarium for us even though I haven’t talked about going in at least a year. You can tell when and why I get lost in my own head and help me come back to reality. You make me laugh more than anyone else. You have this vision of yourself as a fuck up who isn’t worthy of love. But that’s so wrong. You are so amazing.”

JJ stares at me in awe. I can see that he’s trying to process everything I just said so I give him a minute. Without warning, he stands up and drags me up with him. He continues holding my hand as he walks down the pier back to the beach. We walk in silence for a while and I begin to get anxious. Suddenly, he stops walking and moves to stand in front of me.

“Sunshine, John B basically banned me from dating you,” JJ tells me as he looks down to the sand.

“Wait, what?! That chauvinistic ass! He does not get to dictate my life.” John B has always tried to protect me but this is way out of bounds.

“Let me explain a little better... After you left the Chateau, I went inside to find out where you were going. John B said he wanted to talk to me.”

“Dude, what’s the deal with you and my sister?” John B can’t unsee the confused expression on Y/N’s face when he asked if something was going on between them.

“I like her, JB, a lot,” JJ admits. “But nothing has happened between us. Sometimes I think she likes me too but then she pulls back. I don’t know, man.”

“JJ, you can’t fuck around with Y/N,” John B knows JJ wouldn’t intentionally hurt his sister, but he also knows that JJ has never committed more than one night to a girl. “You know her, and you know how you are with girls. You can’t just mack on her and then disappear. That would kill her.”

“Bro, that is not what I want.” JJ run his hand through his hair, trying to contain his temper. He can’t believe his best friend thinks that he would do that. “She isn’t the type of girl that you just mack on.”

“What happens when it falls apart? You’re my best friend but it doesn’t mean I won’t beat your ass when you hurt her.”

“Why do you think I’m going to hurt her? I’m not stupid. I know how special she is.”

“Right, she has a chance to get out of here,” John B responds quickly. He has always known that his sister’s destiny is outside the Outer Banks. “She’s crazy smart but once she commits to something, she doesn’t let it go. I don’t want her to get stuck here.”

“I don’t want to hold her back! I want more for her than this bullshit, scrimping and scraping all the time to make ends meet.”

“But she’ll stay” John B explains. “For you, she’ll stay, and she’ll never do all the shit she wants to.”

“I could go with her,” JJ pleads, unsure if he’s trying to convince his best friend or himself. “I could be part of that life.”

“JJ come on. You and I, we’re lifers here. You can’t drag her down to our level. Go think about it before you do anything stupid. I need to try to find my sister.”

I am shocked at my brother’s behavior. Shocked that he would say such hurtful things to his best friend. He knows the verbal abuse that JJ gets from his father. Why the hell would he add fuel to that fire?

“JJ, listen to me,” I tell him as I gently grab his cheeks. “Do you want to be with me? And I don’t want you to think about the reasons why you think you shouldn’t. Just a yes or no.”

“Yes, of course I do,” JJ replies earnestly. “But –”

“No buts, JJ. If you want to be with me and I want to be with you, that’s enough. The rest of the shit will get figured out.”

“What about JB and Pope?”

“I’ll deal with them. John B was right about one thing, though. Once I’m in, I’m all in. Before I fully commit, I need to know that you aren’t going to bail. Are you in this for real?”

JJ pulls me in for a passionate kiss. He’s holding my face gently with both hands and claiming me as his own. He tilts my face slightly to gain deeper access as he slowly slides one hand down to my neck and the other down to my lower back to pull me closer. With my whole body pressed against his and his tongue exploring my mouth, every part of me feels like it’s on fire. I place my hands against his chest and roam over his rippling muscles, trying to memorize every dip and curve. He slowly pulls back and returns both of his hands to my face.

“I am in, 100%. Let’s go back to my place to figure all of this out. My dad is out on a fishing trip so we don’t need to worry about him.”

“JJ, we can go to the Chateau,” I tell him, thinking he’s anxious about seeing my brother again. “I told you I’ll deal with John B.”

“Sunshine, can we just have some time together before we bring our whole world into this?” The idea of alone time with JJ sends a shiver through my body. It feels like we are in our own delicate bubble and I realize that I’m not ready for that bubble to pop yet either.

I nod at him and he pulls me along to the van. I don’t want to leave John B stranded at home, so he follows behind me on his bike back to the Chateau. I hastily write a note telling my brother that I’m ok and I’ll be back in the morning. I leave the keys and note on the driver’s seat and run over to JJ. I’m a little nervous about riding on his bike but don’t hesitate to climb on behind him and wrap my arms around his torso.

When we get to his house, JJ leads me by the hand to his room. Even though he knows his father isn’t home, he locks his bedroom door as a precaution. I haven’t been in JJ’s room since we were kids and I take a moment to explore the one space in the world that is completely his own.

I’m surprised to find so much of his personality in the room since he spends so much time at my house. He has a wall completely dedicated to the Pogues, covered in pictures and mementos of all of our adventures. I stop exploring when I see a piece of art that I don’t recognize. It’s a pencil drawing of me hunched over studying. I’m in profile, so he must have been sitting on the couch while I was studying at the table. My hair is thrown up into a messy bun, held in place by two pens. I’m wearing one of my dad’s old sweatshirts and have a pencil resting on my temple while I chew on my bottom lip.

“I didn’t know that you draw,” I say quietly as I continue to take in all the details of the picture.

“Only when I’m inspired. You were studying for the SATs the first time you took them. I think you sat in that position for 6 hours. I’m pretty sure you didn’t even know I was there. You were so focused and intent, I couldn’t help watching you and sketching. That was when I realized I have feelings for you.”

I turn to JJ and study his face. He looks vulnerable, something I’m not used to with him. I walk over and pull him into another kiss. This kiss feels different than the others we’ve shared today. JJ slowly walks me backwards until my legs bump into his bed. He guides me down to the pillow and settles next to me with one arm tucked under my neck. I turn so I can look at him and our noses are inches apart.

“You are so damn beautiful,” he whispers as his hand slowly glides down my cheek to feel along my neck. He traces his fingers along the exposed skin on my chest and I rest my hand on his waist, feeling his muscles contract as he breath shallowly. I move my hand slightly to get under his shirt and touch his soft skin. I smile when I feel goosebumps form. He follows my lead and trails his hand down my side, and I can’t help the small gasp that escapes as he brushes along the side of my breast. His hand continues down to the hem of my shirt and I sigh when his warm fingers touch my bare skin.

I lean towards his face and press delicate kisses along his cheek bones and down his jawline. I’ve never kissed someone like this, so I rely on instinct and JJ’s reactions as a guide. My mouth travels down to his neck and I slowly work my way up behind his ear. I lick along his ear lobe and he hums in response. I nibble gently along his ear and feel his hand tighten on my waist. I give him deep kisses down the side of his neck and then leave feather light kisses as I move back up to meet his mouth.

When our mouths connect, it’s like an explosion. His tongue slowly runs along my lower lip and then he catches it with his teeth. I moan as he tugs my lip slightly and I move my hand up his back. He swipes his tongue into my mouth and kisses me hungrily. I dig my fingers into his back, and he smiles against my mouth. He kisses along my cheek and then moves to the spot behind my ear. I shiver at the contact and scrape my nails down his back. He pulls me closer to him as his hand roams up my side, under my shirt. He hesitates before touching my breasts until I nod in consent. He then firmly cups my breast in his large hands and trails his finger under the top of my bra to brush against my nipple.

I throw my leg over his hip and use the momentum to flip him on his back with me straddling his lap. His hands automatically rest on my waist and his eyes are filled with lust. I grab the bottom hem of my shirt and pull it off in one smooth motion. I watch JJ take in my lace bra as his hands roam up to touch me. I lean forward and meet his mouth again as his hands explore my body. I feel his erection under my core, and I rock slightly against him, eliciting a moan.

He rolls us over and trails kisses down my neck and makes his way to my breast. He sucks my skin on the top of breast while his fingers tease my other nipple through the lace. I groan and arch my back to give him more access. He roughly pulls down the lace to swirl his tongue around my nipple while he continues to the tease the other. I drag my fingernails up the bare skin on his sides and feel him shiver. I move my hand along his waist band and hook my fingers into the top of his shorts to pull him closer.

“Wait, wait, wait,” he says as he pulls away.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask timidly.

“Fuck no, Sunshine... we just need to call timeout.” I’ve never heard JJ sound so unsteady.

“You don’t want to keep going?” I can’t hide the insecurity in my voice.

“No, I definitely do.” He rubs my cheek tenderly with his thumb. “But I don’t want to rush into this. I want this to be different. I want your first time, our first time, to be special.”

“JJ, everything I do with you is already special,” I insist as I cup his face. “It’s not the circumstances that make something special, it’s the person that you do it with.”

“I know, I just want to do this right, is that ok?” I can tell from his voice and the way he’s looking at me that he’s as new to this as I am. He may not be a virgin, but this is still a totally novel situation for him.

“Of course, J” I cuddle into him and enjoy the feeling of his strong arms around me.

“Can I take you on a date tomorrow, Sunshine?” He traces his fingers over my still exposed skin while he awaits my answer.

“I would love that, J. I just need to go home first for a bit.”

“You going to talk to John B?”

“Yes, my brother and I will be having a firm conversation about his role in my life.”

“I don’t want to get between - ” I stop JJ with a kiss.

“Stop, don’t worry about me and John B,” I insist. “We’ll be fine. And you two will be fine.”

“What about Pope?”

“I’m not sure... The last thing I want to do is hurt him even more. He’s my best friend but I can’t make myself feel something that isn’t there.”

“He’s one of my best friends, too.” I hear the guilt in his voice. “But Pope is a good guy, he would want us to be happy, right?”

“I hope so. I’ll try to talk to him tomorrow too.”

We spend the rest of the evening talking and cuddling. I feel safe in JJ’s arms and fall asleep listening to his steady heartbeat as he combs through my hair with his nimble fingers.

Ch 6

Taglist: @agirlwholovescoffee @obxlife @meaganjm @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @velyssaraptor @lunaposey @http-cherries @prejudic3 @love-youu-softly @rudyismymanperiod @justcallmesams @celestialmaybank @yasminesameh @chaoticbisous @liloddcora

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sleepy-baby-puppycat · 4 years

Text

The brothers with an artist MC that wants to draw them

Lucifer

He’s in the middle of writing reports when they ask if they can draw him.

“Can it wait until I’m done—?”

“NO”

Eventually Luci gives in and let’s them draw him while he works.

He thinks the pencil scratching and violent erasing sounds are a little annoying at first, but eventually gets used to it.

The human looks cute with that focused look and their lil tongue out

When MC is done, Luci asks to see the drawing.

“... my hair isn’t that messy. And my shoulder are broader than that,”

Luci forgets about his work to make sure MC gets his likeness right, by having them draw him from different angles and stuff

MC is having the best day.

“Ya know Luci, maybe I could draw you without the shirt—?”

“No.”

“DAMN IT”

Mammon

“Of course you want to draw the Great Mammon!”

He’s honestly so flattered that his sweet human wants to use him as a muse that he goes a lil overboard

Overboard meaning his does a ridiculous pose for them to draw.

“...You sure you wanna stay like that? This is gonna take a while”

Halfway through MC’s drawing Mammon is getting antsy and regretting his decisions

“Can we take a break?”

“NO”

MC keeps having to tell him to sit still and that they need another minute to get the last few details

He falls on the floor when they’re finally done.

But the pain was all worth it once he saw the magnificent drawing

“Yo, can I put this on my wall? I want an original from Devildom’s famous human artist!”

Levithan

He always turns MC down when they ask to draw him

“Why would you want to draw a yucky otaku like me? There’s much prettier things to draw...”

DAMNIT LEVITHAN

MC will not stand for this self hate!

While they’re hanging out in his room and Levi is too focused playing a video game, MC is drawing him.

Levi does notice and ask what they’re drawing

“Ohh just something pretty I saw once!”

Levi gets mad at his game a few times and his horns and tail pops out

MC draws those too before they go away

When they’re done they scotch closer to Levi with a big smile, hiding their sketchbook before the big reveal

Levi’s entire face goes red when he sees the ethereal drawing of him

“You’re my something pretty~!”

Now Levi is on the ground crying over his pure human while they snuggle him

Satan

MC shuffles into his room while he’s reading, holding their sketchbook and a pencil

“Oh? Do you need something, dear?”

Satan allows them to draw him as long as he can keep reading

He talks a bit as MC is drawing

Mostly about the stuff he’s read about art history from the human realm.

“Do some humans really pay millions of dollars for a painting of a square?”

The human’s unhappy reaction to modern art amuses him

His talking is making drawing his face a bit difficult, but MC doesn’t mind.

Satan looks pleased with the finished work.

He’s planning on asking Lucifer if they can display some of MC’s art somewhere in the house

Asmodeus

This is no surprise

“Draw me like one of your French girls, MC~”

The Avatar of Lust has been waiting for the day this artistic lil human wanted to use him as a model for their art

MC didn’t have the heart to tell him he didn’t have to get naked for the drawing

They ain’t complaining though

Asmo lays out on his bed in all his nude, sexy glory for the drawing

Yes he has a rose between his teeth

MC is trying to focus but the face the demon is giving them is not helping

“Is my posing off? You can come over here and fix it if you’d like~~”

“ASMODEUS—“

MC ends up not finishing the drawing

Beelzebub

MC went to see him an hour before he was planning on going to the gym

Beel doesn’t mind if they draw him for a bit as long as he can eat while they do

“Why do I have to be shirtless?”

“For the ART of course!”

MC quietly struggles drawing the details of his build, constantly having to do double takes.

“... Beel did your tummy get bigger?”

It did

Once again MC abandons their art because squishing chubby Beel tummy is a once in a lifetime opportunity

The demon is honestly happy they love him regardless of how chubby he is

Beel invites them to draw more pictures of him at the gym

Belphegor

Belphie is passed out when MC gets the desire to draw him

It’s perfect because he doesn’t move

MC sits on the floor by his bed as they draw, trying to keep quiet as they do

Belphie makes noises in his sleep a couple times, to which MC hums a lullaby

He does wake up at some point and just sees the human smiling sweetly at him

“Good morning sleeping beauty~”

MC shows him the drawing of him asleep and just sleepily laughs

Of course they’d drawn a bunch of tiny sheep around his head.

He pets their hair and tells them good job

“Don’t show it to anyone else though. Now get up here, I’m lonely,”

#im new at this howd I do #obey me #obey me swd #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me prompts #obey me brothers #obey me mc

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deidaratheartboi · 3 years

Conversation

Lyric Prank- Let it Bang Rustage

Akatsuki Group Chat (Deidara POV) Sorry if I change the names of ppl around lol)

Deidara: Bang (bang), bang (bang), causing a commotion let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Danchou, My Man, Make It Rain, Blood Bitch, Fungi, Orange have went online.

Danchou: Deidara for the last time NO YOU CANNONT BLOW UP ANOTHER VILLAGE

My Man: What do you want Deidara?

Blood Bitch: Yoooooooooo

Make It Rain: Stfu Hidan

Orange: Senpai what are you doing?

Deidara: Power is ferocious, let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Fungi: Your clay bombs power?

Make It Rain: Idc what power just fucking talk Deidara.

Blood Bitch: Funny how you want him to talk but, not me.

Make It Rain: Stfu

Deidara: Death is fast approaching, let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

My Man: Your dying?

Orange: SENPAI DON'T DIE

Danchou: Deidara if you are not feeling well say so

Blood Bitch: I have some soup if you want it

Make It Rain: Don't eat it

Deidara: Art is an explosion, let it bang

My Man: NO IT'S NOT IT'S FOREVER

Blood Bitch: Shut up interrupting

Deidara:I bring the blast like a Creeper, bet I can blow up, I don't need a feature

Akatsuki, but they ain't my leader, clearing the board of weak dudes like a sweeper

My Man: I didn't know you could rap

Blood Bitch: Ngl those bars are fire

Make It Rain: I think he' trying to turn himself into a bomb

My Man: He already did

Deidara: Imma drop a bomb, no teaser, ay, better bring it on, full feature, ay

Indiana, blasts got you looking for the freezer, ay

Danchou: Must you use ay so much?

Blood Bitch: Don't judge

Deidara: Red Clouds when I roll through

Bout to get loud like a blown fuse

Bring a meltdown and you won't move

Make It Rain: This is boring

Make It Rain has went offline

Sharingay has went offline

Sharingay: Wtf is Deidara doing?

My Man: Rapping?

Orange: He's super good

Deidara: When I step out of the smoke fumеs

Yeah I broke dudes likе I'm Rambo

Got a full pouch full of ammo

Sharingay: When did you get a gun?

Orange: Just roll with his artistic genius

My Man: "Artistic" Sure

Deidara: Bury Gaara under sandstone

Blown your ears out like you're Van Gogh

Sculpt this shit, an artisan, Aardman

My Man: I have a feeling there is going to be alot of artist references

Orange: YAY SENPAI

Danchou: Hmmmm

Deidara: How I use the clay call that an art attack, last stand

Raining down hellfire like it's Stalingrad, class act

Leave Uchihas redder than their Sharingan, god damn (god damn)

My Man: Brrrruuuuuhhhhhhhhhh

Sharingay: ......

Orange: Oh no he didn't

Danchou: It was at this moment he knew he fucked up

Sharingay: I'm gonna kill you Deidara!

Deidara: Bang (bang), bang (bang), causing a commotion let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Power is ferocious, let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Sharingay: DON'T IGNORE ME

Shark Dude has went online

Shark Dude: I read everything and damn. Dei has bars.

My Man: Everyone seems to think so

Deidara: Death is fast approaching, let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Art is an explosion, let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Causing a commotion let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Orange: Back to the chorus

Deidara:Power is ferocious, let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Death is fast approaching, let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Art is an explosion, let it bang

My Man: ART IS NOT AN EXPLOSION DAMNIT

Danchou: Calm down yeesh

Religious Freak: Boy, I'm an artist you don't understande

Deidara: You give me lip, then you talk to the hand

Religious Freak: Mines in the ground, you best watch where you stand

S in the tier, so you not on my rank

Deidara: Red hot, better get lost

Like Tom Jones I'm a S*x Bomb

My Man: It's contaigous

Shark Dude: I didn't know Hidan can rap

Orange: I see what they're doing

Sharingay: WHAT!

Orange: :)

Religious Freak: Leave your mind blown, that's a head shot

Make a Dragon need no Shenron

Deidara: Start running

Feeling the beat of your heart thumping

Explosion release that's an art, stunning

My Man: What's stunning is how you have brain cells but, don't use them.

Shark Due: Buuuuurrrrrnn

Sharingay: Don't do that again Kisame

Religious Freak: Michelangelo, statue decrees it's your Last Judgement

Can't stomach, organs scattered, pull more string than Sasori

Detonation, so it's about to be a catastrophe

My Man: No one pulls more strings then me bitch

Danchou: Calm tf down

Deidara: Huh, huh, checkmate, C2-C4 like a chess game

Huh, huh, self made, back from the dead, Edo Tensei

Huh, huh, headache when I send shocks to your membrane

Need no sensei, when I'm enraged, then I'll let it bang like a grenade

Orange: *Vibing*

Make It Rain has went online

Make It Rain: Oh, it's still happening

Religious Freak: Bang (bang), bang (bang), causing a commotion let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Power is ferocious, let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Death is fast approaching, let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Deidara: Art is an explosion, let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Causing a commotion let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Power is ferocious, let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Religous Freak: Death is fast approaching, let it bang (bang), bang (bang)

Orange: ART IS AN EXPLOSION LET IT BANG

Deidara: THAT WAS MY LINE

Orange: Sorry Senpai

My Man: TF WAS THAT DEIDARA?

Deidara: A lyric prank dumbass

My Man: Oh I feel stupid

Deidara: You should

My Man: Don't push it brat

Tobi: That was amazing

Make It Rain: Idiots

Everyone has went offline

=========================================================

Credits to Rustage for the lyrics you guys should check him out he makes cool anime rap.

Anywho hope you enjoyed next I am going to be doing LOV from MHA

#akatsuki texts #deidar #sasori #tobi #kakuzu #pain #lyric prank

7 notes · View notes

captain-emmajones · 4 years

Text

Love, Emma (7/7)

(Art by the wonderful @carpedzem <33)

Loosely based on Love, Rosie (2014).

Killian and Emma are best friends and neighbors. They’ve always been – until he leaves for the Navy when his brother dies. When he comes back, nine months later, summer has begun and childhood is ending. Emma can tell something is changed in him, but she doesn’t know what. Until she does. He’s fallen in love with someone else.

And then, suddenly, they’re kissing on her nineteenth birthday. When she asks him to forget their night out, and never talk about it again, Killian thinks she means to tell him she regrets the kiss they exchanged. Except she has no memory of it.

Big thank you to @profdanglaisstuff for being a wonderful beta and having my back all through this work!

Friends to Lovers - Mutual Pining - Angst - Fluff - 7000 words - ao3

Part 1 - MIRRORBALL, Part 2 - AUGUST , Part 3 - HOAX, Part 4 - PEACE, Part 5 - THIS IS ME TRYING, Part 6 - CARDIGAN

Note: This is it, the great, the terrible last chapter. I hope you guys will like this as much as I tortured myself writing it, making sure it is the perfect ending to this story :’) It’s been a pleasure writing this story, I loved every second of it and yeah...Thank you for sticking with me through this. It’s been really lovely having you as my readers.

PART 7 - INVISIBLE STRING

Present Day -- August, Storybrooke, Maine.

That night, Granny’s dinner is fuller than usual. Fuller with people, fuller with life.

It’s an agreeable summer night, the air a cool breeze against Killian and Emma’s bare arms as Mary Margaret and David argue over the color choice of the napkins for their upcoming wedding. Crickets chirp all around them, seeming to mock them.

Their plates of food are now empty, and Ruby expertely piles them up on her left arm as Mary Margaret shoots a death glare at her boyfriend.

“White is simply perfect, David.”

“So you play Snow White once in High School and now it’s your favorite color? That’s ridiculous, Mary Margaret.”

“Is it now? And what kind of color would you go for? Orange?”

“Well, orange would be a statement for one!”

“Over my dead body, David. It’s white or nothing.”

If Emma weren’t so distracted by the warmth of Killian’s fingers around hers, she would have probably choked on her beer and mumbled “Mary Margaret - 1, David - 0.”

Thankfully for everyone, the palm that curled around hers a few minutes ago metaphorically threw her straight into a pink cloud kind of paradise.

Looking up from their intertwined fingers, Emma is greeted by the very real purple pink clouds in the night sky, behind Killian and Mary Margaret’s back. They are sitting opposite Emma and David, while Ingrid sits in the middle, a small contented smile on her lips, as she eats her onion rings in silence.

Fairy lights hang above their heads. Emma loves fairy lights, she always has.

“Why not settle for another color, mates?” tries Killian in a calm, soothing voice, and Emma is surprised he is talking at all.

He should know better. Grave, stupid mistake it is to get between Mary Margaret, David and their napkins.

“NEVER,” the couple answer as one voice, and Emma watches with a chuckle caught in her throat as Killian backs away, hands in front of his face.

“Wohoho, mates. Calm down. The only people you’re allowed to kill are each other.”

And as Emma swallows another grin, she thinks Killian and she haven’t talked about it, but that’s fine. Emma’s brain doesn’t seem able to come up with words, anyway.

A few hours ago, the walk back to Ingrid’s was achieved in near complete silence, and it was weird -- considering with whom she was walking. Actually, cross that -- it was weird to be walking back to her childhood house with Killian Jones, period.

But Emma was able to find comfort in Killian’s lack of words as well, and god knows how talkative Killian can be, she found comfort in his breathy tone when he handed her the box back and the flush on his cheeks, knowing if she could barely hear anything if not for her own heartbeats, surely he wasn’t pulling this any better than she was.

“Earth to Emma, would you like a desert?”

Emma blinks. Two green eyes are staring at her.

Right. Dinner. Granny’s. Damnit, focus Emma. Ruby’s voice sends a shameful loop down Emma’s belly.

“...Mmm, no, actually. I’m fine, for now.”

Ruby’s raising an eyebrow. Everyone is staring at her. Why are they staring?

“Are you sure, Ems?”

“I am. Why do you ask?”

“...It’s just, it doesn’t sound a lot like you.”

And then Emma’s pretty sure her hair stands on end.

“Really.” And each word is meant to sound more threatening than the last. “I. Am. Fine. Ruby.”

She’s not looking at him, but Emma catches Killian’s small chuckle all the same. It’s hard to ignore how easily her rage melts away, and she hides the beginning of a smile behind a napkin.

“Fine.” And Ruby nearly sounds like she is the one who got attacked. (Perhaps she was. But she deserved it.)

As the waitress disappears in a clatter of heels, Ingrid is tapping a napkin against her mouth, delicately, and Emma knows very well what this means.

“Well, it’s already 10pm. I think I’ll leave you youngsters to it.”

Emma watches as Ingrid folds the napkin in front of her, just like she always does, and gracefully stands up.

“Goodnight, kids.” Ingrid grins, and everyone replies with a lively “Goodnight, Ingrid!”

A kiss is dropped onto Emma’s forehead, and Emma doesn’t miss the subtle pat on the back Killian receives on Ingrid’s way out. Emma thinks Ingrid’s always liked Killian, but then she stops thinking about it because David and Mary Margaret are coughing, and it is the least natural piece of acting Emma’s had the chance to witness in a while.

They both exchange a sly glance, nod and stand up at their turn, and Emma stares at them -- cheeks burning.

“Yeah, we’ll go, too. It’s getting pretty late, and we flew in very early this morning.”

Traitor, shout Emma’s eyes at Mary Margaret, but the small brunette is smiling with all of her teeth out and doesn’t seem concerned by Emma’s impending murder threat.

“Enjoy your night, guys,” David looks far too delighted. “Byye.”

“Aha, bye guys.”

Away from Granny’s dinner and up Main Street towards Granny’s B&B, the couple vanishes into the night.

And just like that, Emma and Killian are alone under the fairy lights.

Chirp, chirp.

This time, Emma cannot ignore the childish panic that strangles her throat, as his touch begins to burn her skin and her hand slowly slides out of his palm. She looks down at the green plastic table.

What to do now? Jesus, she is not nineteen anymore, she needs to take initiative, and—

“Fancy a walk along the beach, Emma?”asks Killian, and Emma is so thankful for the distraction she nearly knocks the table down as she springs to her feet.

“Excellent idea!” Why do her legs feel so wobbly?

And Killian smirks, and she wonders if he knows just how badly she is afraid, of him, of her, of risking her heart.

“Perfect then, let’s sail away.”

But she wants this to work, she wants them to work. She spent a good part of her life agonizing over this relationship, daydreaming about it, and then cursing it, and it better be as good as she thought it would be.

As things turn out, this walk along the beach feels like brutally falling down a rabbit hole. It knocks the wind out of Emma and it is wonderfully terrifying.

The wind blows that night. Salt air dances with Emma’s light dress and Killian’s hair.

Emma’s shoes dangle from her fingers, but she is still shaking like a leaf.

Awful, isn’t it, to finally get all you’ve ever dreamed of?

She knows it’s not entirely hers yet, she knows she still has to dash forward and grab it with her two hands, and not let it go – on any account. (Do you want it?)

It’s terrifying.

She did not reach out to Killian, this past month, although she knew about his letter...and she probably wouldn’t have reached out first, had he not appeared on her porch.

There is still this stupid fear, down her stomach, this stupid fear that he never cared, he never will, and this is all a sick joke.

(She wants it.)

“Should we sit?”

“Aye.”

He complies as she sprawls into the sand she feels moist under her toes, sitting down a few inches from him.

Somehow, staring at him still feels illegal.

When he gets a flask of rum out of his leather jacket, she rolls her eyes, and her bracelet glints under the moonlight. For the first time in ages, it is not a painful sight. She does not twist the little charms.

“Really? Is rum your solution to everything?”

“It’s not rum, Swan. It’s merely water.”

“Is it now?”

“Nah, it’s definitely rum. But it never hurts to have a drink between friends.”

And at that wicked, wicked word, they both stare at one another and gape slightly.

It should be funny. Except it still itches.

Aren’t they friends?

There are stars reflected in his eyes. There is still this ache inside her chest.

Emma is urged by a desire to look down then, but she doesn’t cave in. Instead, her mouth curves into a smile.

“…Friends or other types of acquaintances,” he adds after a while, and Emma’s smile widens.

The flask of rum is handed to her, and she drinks a few mouthfuls that diffuse a sweet heat and courage down her throat. Lord does she need it.

“Acquaintances, you say, um?”

She licks the small drop of rum that rolls down her lower lip, notices with satisfaction as Killian’s eyes follow the movement of her tongue and widen when he realizes she has caught him red-handed.

“Aye. I believe we’ve been acquainted.” There is a delicious twirl, down in her stomach, that could drown her fears, she knows it, if only she allowed herself to let go.

“Right.”

Idiot. Her cheeks burn. It is ridiculous, they are ridiculous and she doesn’t mind.

Woosh, woosh, the waves giggle.

As Emma inhales deeply, she figures she has to give him back his flask and that this -- whatever the hell this really is -- is probably going to be more difficult than she initially thought.

Her fingers brush against his as his hand closes over the flask -- of course they do -- and Emma couldn’t honestly say who’s to blame.

“Thanks, Swan.”

Oh, how many scenarios she made up in her mind, about him showing up. They all ended with their lips locked together. What she had a very hard time figuring out was the in-between. The talking. The confession. Because there has to be one, right?

She hears him gulp a few mouthfuls of rum down next to her and she refocuses her gaze on him. He clears his throat.

“So, erm, any plans for the foreseeable future?” he inquires.

The flask is buried in the sand between them.

“I don’t know, to be honest. For now, I think I’ll stay in Storybrooke. It’s my home.”

And then a pause, she glances at him through her eyelashes. A mischievous wave comes crashing at their feet, bites their toes.

“What about you, Killian? Still in Portsmouth?”

She watches him tilt his head next to her as he carefully sieves a handful of sand between his fingers, brows furrowed.

“Actually, I’ve been thinking about moving back to Storybrooke. Joining the Navy again would not be easy, and I’m not sure it’s entirely what I desire. I mostly did it to honour Liam but it’s never been a dream of mine…”

A pause, a breath, for him, Emma has stopped breathing somewhere after “Storybrooke”. And her mouth refuses to shut.

“Plus, there’s the fact that Graham did mention the need for another deputy,” he casually adds, shoots a swift glance at her.

Oh. Breathe, Emma, breathe.

It’s very hard, then, for Emma to swallow the smile that tingles her lips.

“You are?” she asks, curses silently her quivering tone. Clears her throat. Dammit, why did it come out like this?

If he notices it, Killian doesn’t show it. Instead, he goes on, the ghost of a smile over his lips.

“Aye. I don’t think there’s anywhere else for me to be. It is high time I came home.”

Home. The word echoes between them, much like the gentle rustling of the waves.

And Emma nods and she has no idea where to put herself, what to say. She settles for telling the truth.

“That’s great. I could really use you around.” A pause. “I’ve missed you.”

Twinkle, twinkle the stars in the night sky, and the constellations in her heart as her eyes meet his. They put to shame the sea of stars in front of them.

Emma’s heart is bursting out as he slowly glances down at her lips, and then even more slowly looks up, a dangerous grin overtaking his features.

“Aye. I’ve missed you too, Swan. I don’t want to be apart from you anymore.”

Hearing him repeat her words is positively the worst thing that could have happened to her heart rate. That one nearly rips her heart out of her chest and sends it ricocheting on the waves.

She nods, laughs a bit, crinkles her nose mostly to hide how flustered she truly is.

“How…How did this happen?”

And he sighs next to her, a very dramatic sigh that she recognizes as a poor attempt to hide a deeper kind of pain. She watches as he stretches his legs, digs a shape into the sand with his fingers.

“How did you end up marrying Neal Cassidy, you mean? Poor judgement, if I do say so myself.”

The bastard.

She elbows him in the ribs, of course, he deserves it.

And he only chuckles, feigns a moan of pain, and… and grabs the arm she threw at him to bring her closer to him. There are grains of sand stuck to his skin as his hand closes over her fisted palm. As he stares at her, all air has definitely been knocked out of Emma’s lungs.

His nose gently brushes hers. Little pulses of magic seem to climb up her hand, her arm, to gently tickle her heart.

And she gazes into his eyes, mortified. Swallows hard.

“To be fair, he did hide that letter from you. A shame really, it was truly a pearl of literature.”

His breath tingles Emma’s lips, and it isn’t fair.

She snorts, she tries to at least, because it is hard to do anything when he is this close to her.

“David told you,” she mumbles, rolls her eyes dramatically, blushes furiously.

He isn’t denying the letter. He isn’t denying anything.

“Aye that he did. You can’t trust the guy with a secret, love.”

She doesn’t know what David told him over the phone, but Emma thinks it is safe to assume that it is somewhere near absolutely everything. And it should bother her, it should bother that secret and private part of herself, but Emma’s tired of fighting against herself, and she lets it go. All of it.

Her hand is still in his, twisted against his chest, right above his heart. She doesn’t mind. They could remain like this, forever, for all she minds. But that wouldn’t be very practical, now, would it?

“And it’s not like I didn’t know…” he continues, and Emma’s mouth drops even more, if it is possible. “I think I’ve known from the moment I met you. Haven’t you?”

A nervous chuckle shakes her shoulders.

“What exactly have you always known?”

“You can’t answer my question with another question, Swan. That’s just not how the English language works.”

“Well, if you could drop the metaphors and double entendre, then perhaps, perhaps I…” A breath. There’s no need to hide anymore, although something ludicrous seems about to explode inside her chest. “Y-yes, I think I knew...But I --”

“-- Good, because in that case, there’s no use for me to hold back from doing this…”

And as she opens her mouth to complain about metaphors and double entendre, again, he leans into her, tilts his face and, as Emma’s heart does a weird leaping thing in her chest, delicately presses his lips to hers.

While Emma does think it is definitely very rude of him to interrupt her like that, she cannot bring herself to complain too much.

Neither can she ignore the sudden explosion in her chest, thousands of strawberry bubbles of happiness that taste of childhood and dreams bursting out.

Oh god. She muffles a moan against his mouth, snatches her hand from his grip to tug at his hair, brings him closer to her, as close as humanly possible, presses her mouth harder against his, as hard she can, and she quite literally feels like a house set on fire.

Thump, thump, cries her heart, as their lips dance together, as his hand gets lost in her hair, and no air reaches her lungs and this goddamn flower keeps blooming inside her chest and there isn’t any space between them, and she’s pretty sure she’s combusting into flames, but it’s fine, it’s really fine when his mouth opens and gives her access to his tongue.

It’s a gentle kiss, in spite of the passion. It’s such a gentle kiss, in the way with which his hand tenderly lingers in her curls, as if he were afraid she’d shatter under his touch, or in the way his other arm curls around her waist, holds her tightly, but not too tightly, so as not to break her it seems.

Years of yearning will do that to you, make you afraid of shattering the glittering and fragile object of your affection.

And when they let go, burning forehead against burning forehead, because they really, really need to breathe, Emma doesn’t want to run. In fact, she doesn’t want this to ever end. And she doesn’t know it, but she smiles.

“Then why –” he begins, his lips lightly, delicately brushing against hers as he speaks.

And how dare he be talking! She can barely breathe.

“—why the wedding?” she lazily answers against his lips. “Because I didn’t think you cared…” A pause. “You never told me you did... You didn’t even call, after the k-kiss.”

Damnit, that was harder to spit out than anticipated. And it probably sounded more accusing than she wanted it to, but she forgives herself.

The painful memory allows her to step back a little, to gaze into his blue eyes and discover his cheeks crimson and an awestruck look on his face, as well as a lot of guilt and tenderness.

A sigh. “Of course I didn’t. I was waiting for you to do it. You were bloody engaged, may I remind you.”

Her brows furrow.

“And I did! But you didn’t answer.” Silence. “Tink did.”

She watches his features with weariness. She watches as he frowns. Backs away slightly, to gaze into her eyes, seems to seek the truth. And then, sighs.

“Of bloody course. Tink.” Emma watches as he rolls his eyes dramatically, hisses a few insults between his teeth.

She thinks he is still infuriatingly handsome.

Another nervous laughter begins rattling her body, because this is ridiculous, they are ridiculous, they just had to talk it out and it would have been fine but --

“Seems like our lack of communication isn’t only on us.”

Emma smirks. “Well, it’s mostly on us.”

“Point taken.” And it’s unfair because he smiles a bright smile then and her heart jumps once more.

And he looks down, again, at her lips, and Emma feels frozen only she is burning. She needs to kiss him again, and forever, probably.

“But if you cared--” Why is he talking again? She opens eyes she didn’t know she had shut to dart a murderous gaze on him. He doesn’t see it, the fool, keeps talking instead. “--why did you ask me to forget our kiss?”

That nearly knocks her out. “Our kiss? Which kiss?”

She doesn’t know just how right she is to ask this question.

He raises an eyebrow. His cheeks are flushed and his hair dishevelled, and Emma has to focus to look into his eyes and not stare at his swollen lips.

“You mean to tell me you don’t remember?”

And his eyes do a weird twitching thing. He doesn’t seem alright. And he sounds a little bit as if a part of himself has just died.

“I mean… I sure as hell think I would remember this.” Oh, she totally would.

“Your nineteenth birthday,” he exhales, and if he could raise his eyebrows any harder, they’d get stuck up his hairline, “we kissed on the rooftop right before you fell to the ground.”

Well, she does remember the wicked headache she got that day, but she thought it was caused by the alcohol and…

“No…Yes?” A pause. She frowns. Realization sinks in. Well that would explain a lot, indeed. ��We did?”

That would explain his crumpled face as she asked him to forget their night, it would explain why he avoided her all through summer, and why he stayed with Milah, and why she started dating Neal in the first place, and oh -- they are two idiots, aren’t they?

“Aye. And you specifically asked me to forget that night.”

If she keeps frowning her eyebrows will remain stuck forever. She frowns harder.

“But I had no memory of that kiss.”

“Bloody hell.” And Killian lets go of a very dramatic sigh, shakes his head.

Emma’s mouth forms an “O” as she watches Killian glance further away, to the sea, and she begins to understand years of struggle could have been avoided, had they, had they…well, talked about it, it seems.

An angel passes.

“Damnit,” she whispers.

And Emma is surprised to find a chuckle tickling her throat. Why is she laughing? This isn’t funny.

He still isn’t looking at her. Impish waves keep nibbling their toes. She hates how heavy everything suddenly feels.

Emma thinks that all this time he thought-- he thought she didn’t care, but she did, oh she cared, and...

Emma breathes in, fingers pressed to her temples. Shrugs a bit, breathes out and casts an eye on Killian. He doesn’t seem alright. But she knows how to distract him.

“Since I don’t remember, allow me to ask: did you kiss me?”

His blue eyes flash in the dimness as she smirks.

She doesn’t think she has seen him look this offended before.

“I beg your pardon? You bloody kissed me, Emma!”

His high pitch does make her chuckle.

“Don’t give me that offended look. That does sound like something you’d do.”

Oh, the wrath sparkling in his gaze then, it’s a sight for sore eyes, and she cannot stop smiling.

“Nah, you were the one who melted onto my lips and sucked the bloody life out of me, perched on your high heels.”

“They weren’t that high. And, at least I did something about my feelings.”

“Well, you forgot so it was pretty useless in the end, anyway.”

“Hey!”

And her fist punches his chest, and he captures it again, traitor, and time stands still for a moment, as they glance at each other.

Everything still feels very fragile and terrifying. But that’s quite alright.

And then with a swing of his hip, he shifts her under his weight, onto the sand, and her body meets the ground softly.

His face surrounded by dark, tousled hair hides the moon from her sight, but as her breath catches in her chest, she doesn’t mind.

“You were saying?”

“Mmm…”

Emma thinks sand will get stuck in her hair. And it’s going to be a pain to wash it out. But that’s okay.

They’re only twenty-three, murmurs her inner voice, they’re allowed to be young and stupid and messy and –

“Well, I’m glad it didn’t take us another ten years to figure our shit out. Wouldn’t be nearly as sexy.”

“Speak for yourself, Swan.”

“Idiot.”

And without a second thought, or a first, she raises her face to capture his lips, drink his breath, because she is allowed to, and this is right and all she’s ever wanted.

Up the beach, down Main street, Killian and Emma walk along the roads of their childhood.

Emma doesn’t know where they are going, but it doesn’t seem to matter, not just yet.

Fear is of course lurking in one deep corner of her mind, but it is easy to ignore it while her hand is safely tucked in his.

“Where are you staying?” she asks as they shift to stare at one another.

Granny’s green B&B sign flashes behind Killian’s back.

Amusement sparkles in his eyes. “Granny’s.”

Emma remembers New York’s cold street lights, and the snow melting onto her lips, and Killian’s damp hair, and the sad glimmer in his blue eyes and her cold, shaking hand in his.

It was the night she decided to give him up, not knowing, not knowing he cared too.

It was the night she would have burned in hell to hear him invite her into his hotel room.

(Was it worth it, all the pain, in the end?)

“Fancy a last drink, Swan?”

Streetlights dabble gold beams into his blue eyes.

She nods, a little out of breath. Something soft and awful swallows her from inside.

“Yeah.”

And down the road, up the stairs, they go, hands clasped together. Her bracelet jingles up the stairs.

Emma remembers standing on his porch before her eighteenth birthday party, forehead pressed to the door, eyes locked on her phone screen, heart beating fast, fast.

“Come in whenever you want, I’m ready!” And her stomach twisting at his reply.

Things were so easy while she was still convinced that she was in love with him and she would never love anyone else and they had all the time in the world.

She was wrong, but that’s also fine.

(Isn’t pain just pain?)

Click, he’s unlocked the door, and Emma steps forward to gaze inside. Beyond Granny’s questionable decoration choices, everything is clean and proper and Navy and Killian. What a relief.

It is quite late now, and exhaustion burns Emma’s eyes, circles her throat and crudely brings to light her fears and insecurities. She feels bare, exposed, vulnerable under the dark green chandelier.

For a short moment, she fears there will be too much to mend between them, too many scars over their chest for them to offer their hearts again.

“Make yourself at home, Swan.”

The red leather jacket is dropped onto the bed just as he neatly folds his own on a chair by the wall.

And she keeps staring at those four walls, at this cramped room, and she thinks a month ago she was marrying someone else.

She’s still scared. Is she supposed to be scared?

“You okay, love?” he nudges her.

His hand softly grabs her shoulder.

She shrugs. If she is honest with herself, she does feel a little bit overwhelmed. This room is too silent. She can almost hear past echoes of their hearts breaking.

“Yes, I’m just…”

“Reminiscing?”

A smile. “That’s not the word I would have gone for, but yeah.”

His hand hurtles down her arm and slides into hers. His touch still shoots electric trails all over her skin.

“Want to sit down, Swan?” A nod, and he’s tucking her down with him.

When Killian switches on the small outdated TV on the wooden table in front of them, Emma sighs in relief.

And when still no words echo between them, Emma feels his eyes burn the skin of her cheek.

New York again. A cold bench. The snow falling onto his hair. This pain, in her chest, as he utters her name. Milah.

(Pain is just pain.)

“What are you thinking about, Swan?”

She blinks, licks her lips. Breathes in.

Will not look at him.

Augusta airport this time. His back, his image printed in blood over her retinas, this dark shape she cannot forget, forever turned on her.

“The past.”

The pain.

Storybrooke’s town hall. Her weary eyes twitching back and forth from Neal towards the door. Begging Killian to appear. And he doesn’t. (Or he does, but he’s too late.)

“Listen, Emma,” and his fingers have found hers again, and they are soft, and she looks up to discover his eyes even gentler, and his lips spread in a tender smile, “The past is behind us and we cannot change it.”

“But there’s been so much pain…”

She sounds like she is twelve again, she can almost touch Ingrid’s wooden fence under her fingers, can almost feel the tingling fear that a splinter might get stuck in the tender skin, and she can almost smell the yellow irises, and it almost brings her to tears.

“I know. But we can do better now.”

She nods. Can they do better? What if all of this is just a chimera and they’ve both idealized their love and what if … What if none of this is real?

She should sleep. Her eyelids are heavy and her eyes burn.

But then his hand cups her cheek, and its warmth brings her back to reality, tethers her. Her own palm settles above his as she leans into his touch. Closes her eyes, for just one bit.

She is so tired. Morpheus is luring her into his arms.

“As long as I am alive--” Oh, but then he is talking, and his voice is velvet against her skin, and she opens her eyes to stare at him. She’s pretty sure he can hear the thump of her heart. “--you can live with the conviction, Swan, that I will always be by your side.” A pause. “Always.” Another silence, his words sinking into her skin, as his fingers trace butterflies along her neck. A smile. “I’ve always been in love with you. From the moment I met you.”

Oh. Her eyes widen. Thump, thump.

She is swallowed by a gigantic wave of confused feelings. She thinks an earthquake is shattering the windows and shaking the walls. She thinks a tear rolls down her cheek, but she is not crying.

And it’s not like she didn’t know, she knew, but, but also she didn’t, for so long, and this is all very confusing and unexpected but very much expected, and he keeps staring at her and she doesn’t know what to say, for fuck’s sake.

And the only answer she can come up with is her trembling hands caressing his cheeks and then slowly grabbing the lapel of his t-shirt, and then, finally -- the pressure of her lips against his. Tender, at first, and then furious, desperate, hungry.

She wants to tell him, I loved you when you walked away from me, the first time, and the times after that, as well. I loved you although you never looked back at me, and I couldn’t look forward. I loved you when you were avoiding me, and I loved you when I didn’t think I loved you anymore. But mostly, I loved you from the moment I met you.

Instead, she presses her mouth into his, fiercely, for all of those times she wishes she had been brave enough to kiss him and she didn’t.

And Emma forgives them both. Forgives their past mistakes and heartaches.

They will do better. (They want to, and that’s already half of the journey, isn’t it?)

A number. Nineteen. Emma’s nineteen tonight. He’s been for a while now. (He feels a hundred years old since Liam left. Feels like he’s been holding his breath for centuries. Only the pain doesn’t flatter.)

They’re on a rooftop. Emma’s pink dress floats in the wind, much like a pirate flag. Her smile, that night, is bright, vivid, infuriatingly confident as she glances down at his lips.

The waves crash against the sand, back and forth, back and forth.

Her body is warm against his chest. Both of his hands hold her waist.

Time stands still, as she stands up on her tip toes and kisses him.

It’s an explosion, then, in his chest. A mercurial bliss.

And this time, he catches her before the fall. He doesn’t let her go. This time, his grip is secure around her waist, his fingers firm around her hips as she stumbles forward and they chuckle together.

This time, she doesn’t forget their kiss.

No.

Instead, she stares deeply into his eyes and she says: “I’ve been meaning to do that for a while, now.”

And he says: “I’ve been waiting for you to say that.”

And if everything is easy, it’s only because it is a dream.

A ray of sunshine tickles Killian’s eyelids. His face crinkles, he groans, opens one hesitant eye.

Bloody hell. What a dream. Or a nightmare, he cannot really tell.

There is a weight against his chest, bitterness at the back of his mouth.

He glances down. Emma. She fell asleep in his arms last night while he was slowly rocking her, and they forgot to close the shutters and now Killian will never fall back to sleep again.

His eyes still burn.

He gazes at her face buried in the hollow of his neck, blonde hair across his chest. He smiles.

A hospital room, eight months ago. A blinding, golden light. Her sleepy smile. “Oh, you’re awake?”

He would pinch himself if he had a hand to spare.

Those six months, without her, thinking she didn’t want him, were some of the bleakest of his life.

It was like losing a limb, only he lost two. And he had to keep on learning how to walk without an anchor, how to live without a hand and without hers to hold.

And then, David’s call, one morning.

“They broke up, Killian. Neal found your letter. I think you should do something about that, or I will personally come to murder you in your pitiful apartment, do you hear me?”

Emma snores lightly against his skin. He traces the shape of her jawline with gentle fingers.

He is terrified. Perhaps it is the only way to be, for now.

Perhaps it is good. It means they’re trying. They’re evolving, together, for the first time in ages.

A grunt, her small hand spread across her face, she’s starting to wake up, he can tell.

There is still a lot of sadness in his chest, for the boy who loved a girl and suffered deeply for it. For the boy who lost everything and still managed to lose more through the years, until there wasn’t anything left to lose.

Liam’s smile from his car window. A wave. And then void, nothing.

Killian clenches his jaw.

“Hey,” a small voice groans, “if you keep staring at me while I sleep, it’s going to get creepy.”

A grin.

“Sorry love, couldn’t sleep.”

Emma lifts her chin, green eyes shimmering in this golden morning light, and she tries a sleepy smile.

“Morning, Killian.”

“Morning, Emma.”

“Am I crushing you under my weight?”

“I think I’ll survive, love.”

She still hesitates to kiss him, he sees it in the small start of her head backwards, so he bends forward to kiss her.

It’s a sloppy morning kiss, but he wants all of them.

Last night, they absolutely did not take time to undress. Emma fell asleep like a rock, and he was too afraid he’d wake her up to try and remove his clothes.

But she seems very much awake as her legs curl around his hips, and it is very hard for Killian to ignore the way her dress climbs back up her thighs and gives away the beginning of her red panties.

He can feel his cheeks become hot and red, and suddenly Emma’s smirking at him.

“Like what you see?”

He swallows down.

“It’s quite alright, aye.”

A squeeze of her thighs around his torso, he is trapped, and his heart leaps.

“Alright?” she repeats. “That’s definitely a disappointing answer.”

As for Killian’s heart, it’s practically bursting out in his chest by now. He gulps.

He cannot say he hasn’t thought a lot about it, what it would feel like to go beyond a simple kiss with Emma. How her skin would taste under his tongue.

He may have started to think about it at around age fifteen, when he saw her come back from summer vacation all tan legs out, and he can still hear Liam’s mocking tone “If you open your mouth any wider, little brother, you’re going to swallow flies.”

The thoughts worsened after their kiss. There were some lonely, desperate moments as well during which he imagined tracing the shape of her body, much like his fingers flutter against the side of her leg right now.

His eyes don’t leave hers, scrutinizing her to know if he is allowed to go further.

“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to, Emma,” he whispers.

The wicked smile she shoots him is a sufficient answer. “Oh don’t worry, I want to.”

And then her lips find his again and his fingers are gripping her thigh now, clutching her skin, leaving marks, climbing back up some more and feel the soft skin right under the fabric of her dress.

She moans against his mouth, and it’s a wonderful sound, and suddenly they are both wearing far too many clothes and they have to hurry or they’ll combust into flames.

Emma straddles him just as her nimble fingers pull her dress up and throw it over her head.

“Couldn’t have done it better myself,” he mumbles and it’s very hard to look anywhere else but at her naked body.

But she’s already getting impatient with his t-shirt, and she groans. “Come on Killian, help me. Raise your arms up.”

“Didn’t think you’d become such a morning person, Swan.”

She laughs a bit as his t-shirt hits the floor in its turn in a muffled sound, and she does this thing where she stops to gaze into his eyes and he will die for a lack of oxygen.

He watches as she swallows, ogling him.

“Some things are worth waking up for.”

And then she’s melting into the skin of his neck as her fingers sift through his hair, and Killian ceases completely to think.

A month later -- Augusta Airport.

Emma clutches Ingrid’s yellow irises against her chest. Her hold is gentle but her lips form a firm line.

As she stares at the Arrivals Board in front of her, the beat of her heart is drumming in her ears, and she is pretty certain oxygen is having a very hard time reaching her lungs.

He’s only been gone a week, mumbles her inner voice, but Emma’s too happy to pay attention to her pride.

She glances up, and a breath of relief escapes Emma’s throat as the light next to Portsmouth changes color.

“He’s landed,” she whispers to herself, flowers still pressed to her chest.

She glances down, careful not to damage the beautiful bouquet Ingrid offered last night, over the dinner table.

“I know how much he loves them,” Ingrid smiled.

Another look at the clock. He should be here any time now.

Her heart skips a blissful beat.

A part of her still cannot believe this is real. That he is coming home, for good, that Emma found them a cute apartment near the beach and they’re going to get everything they’ve ever dreamed of.

“Are you sure you want to do this...I mean, we could wait, and I could go back to Ingrid’s for a while…”

A butterfly in the dark, a kiss in the night.

“I’ve never been so sure of anything…”

Gazing all around her, Emma spots the familiar large window in front of her. It still shows a blurry reflection of her body. Emma frowns. Well, that will never change. One hand reluctantly gives up on the flowers to comb her hair.

It is now mid September in Storybrooke, Maine, and Emma has to admit she’s missed him.

It wasn’t the kind of missing him she was far too familiar with only two months ago. It wasn’t a burning ache in her chest. It was just like losing your glasses and finding them again on your bed table, where you left them. It’s a kind of missing she knew to end. And it made a great difference.

As she remains very still, feet stuck to the ground, she remembers shaking, bouncing up and down on her feet, waiting for him to come back the first time, four years ago.

Nothing’s really changed. She is still Emma and he is still Killian. Except everything’s changed.

It feels like another lifetime. Emma smiles down at the flowers in her hands. A very peaceful sunflower blooms in her chest.

The crowd of people around her brings Emma back to the present. More people gather together, and Emma understands they are all just as eager to see their loved ones as she is.

And she waits, knowing her love is about to arrive.

Another few minutes go by, and time seems to slow down. She clenches her jaw. Unclenches it. Come on, relax, Emma.

And then… And then, there he is.

“Killian.” The blissful whisper escapes her throat as a brutal wave of bliss sweeps her off her feet. She doesn’t hold it back. It isn’t scary anymore.

She’s somehow thankful to notice he hasn’t changed one bit, but it’s only been a week, what was she expecting? A tender hue of blue meets her eyes and smiles in recognition.

“Emma, my love,” he mirrors her happy sigh.

Her heart beams as they walk towards each other, their pace sure and quick and knowing, and in a few steps he lets go of a thousand suitcases to pick her up from the ground.

“Careful, Killian, your flowers,” she complains even as her feet quit the floor.

And she tries to hold the bouquet away from his face, but he doesn’t seem to care and presses a long kiss to her mouth instead.

She sighs happily into his embrace, wraps her arms around his neck, and her senses are filled by him – his smell, a strong cologne she is only too familiar with, his skin under her fingers, his tousled black hair.

“I missed you,” he exhales against her cheek, and drops another kiss to her cheek.

She slowly backs away, smiling. “It’s only been a week…”

He raises an eyebrow that challenges her to lie some more. She chuckles, crinkles her nose, mumbles: “Okay, I might have missed you too…”

He sighs a dramatic sigh, rolls his eyes.

“Now, you nearly gave me a heart attack, Swan. I was this close from flying back to Portsmouth.”

Idiot, her inner voice snorts, unimpressed. But her heart isn’t very concerned, and a giggle jolts out of her throat. Even her cheeks give her away, flush furiously, and she hates them for it - come on, it’s been a month now.

Her hand lingers on his face, tracing the little scar on his cheek.

“Are you going to take those flowers, or should I keep them for myself?” She attacks in a coy, sharp tone.

He flutters his eyelashes. The fucker.

“If the lady insists.”

A roll of the eye, a bright smile, and Emma’s heart sighs -- defeated. And the flowers carefully slip into his hand.

He drops another kiss to her lips. “Thank you, love.”

“Of course, Killian.”

And then there is this very dramatic moment during which they both stare at his three enormous suitcases and wonder how the hell they are going to make this work.

“Damnit. Did you have to take your whole life with you?”

“Well, a blonde lass did ask me to move in with her.”

Her fist punches his shoulder, playfully. Another sigh echoes all through the airport’s hall.

“Well, let’s go, I guess.”

She’s quick to grab the bag he let go of to hold her and seizes two red suitcases. And he watches her, the fucker, flowers in the crook of his arm and the third suitcase secure his hand. He seems infinitely entertained.

“Don’t you dare laugh in my face, Killian Jones.”

“Well, if it weren’t for the flowers, I could maybe hel-”

“-- NO. You keep the damn flowers! For once Ingrid offered them.”

And as they are walking down the airport like old times, Emma knows they’ll do better. They already are doing better.

(Emma thinks pain is just pain, and they should have known sooner, they should have known better but she also thinks that doesn’t matter because surely there is no kind of pain that cannot be absolved by a lot of love.)

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

@yasbio2015 @bubblegum1425 @daenerysmyhsa @dancingnancyy @elizabeethan @farewell-courgette @beca0912 @stina-g @tenaciouskittynightmare @noensnaringnet @klynn-stormz @sekretny13 @tiganasummertree @vvbooklady1256 @brustudyblog @peggyyswan @thisonesatellite @ohmightydevviepuu @courtorderedcake @snowbellewells @kingofmyheart14 @teamhook @mariakov81 @folkloreismylullaby @officerrogers

(Might write some missing scenes, and add a few bonuses to this story, so if you’ve got anything in mind you’d like to read, hit me up ;) (actually hit me up for anything and let’s be friends.)

#cs fanfics #cs ff #captain swan #my stuff #amy writes #i need to find a new source of serotonin guys #my brain doesn't want to let this go #thank you all for your comments #and likes #and just for reading this story #it means the world to me #and i'm so glad i got to talk to some of you through this <3 #i hope you'll this #and now i'll shut up

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chaseatinydream · 4 years

Text

first kiss || j.wy (atz)

➵ pairing: reader x jung wooyoung (ateez)

➵ word count: 3148

➵ genre: convenience store date; confession; fluff

➵ synopsis: wooyoung just wanted cup ramen at 12:05am with a dash of seasoning “you”.

>>>

You’re startled out of sleep by the ringing of your phone.

For a moment, you’re tempted to reach for the accursed device and hurl it at the wall, but rational thought catches you before you can do so… that phone was expensive. Sitting up groggily, you push back the messy hair falling into your eyes and glare at your alarm clock. You feel like you’ve barely slept since the night before.

And with good reason, because it’s only freaking 12:03 AM in the bloody morning.

Your phone rings again and you scowl at it, willing it to somehow magically shut up so you don’t have to get up from under the warm covers of your bed, but alas, you don’t have any telekinetic powers and are required to crawl over to it like a poor, ordinary human being.

Flipping your phone around, you almost screech in agony as the unholy brightness of the screen seems to sear your eyes and you chuck it to the side. You barely got a glimpse of the Caller ID, but a mere glance at those first few letters is enough for you to know who it is.

Only one person is close enough (and also stupid) to call you in the middle of the night without fear of violent retribution the next day.

Grumbling to yourself, one hand fumbles for the device and you press it to your ear, burying your face into the plush pillows. You want to go back to sleep.

“What is it, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung’s voice is much too cheerful for a Tuesday night, but its energy is infectious, as much as you hate to admit it. You don’t need to, he knows it already, that the longer he keeps you on the phone, the higher his chances are of you acquising to his often ridiculous requests. Knowing Wooyoung, it’s probably going to the nearest convenience store to buy ice cream in the middle of winter.

“Hey! How’s my favourite best friend in the whole world doing, Chin Hae?”

Honestly, you sometimes wonder if Wooyoung is a vampire. He never seems to sleep, living and thriving purely off a diet of caffeine and energy drinks and perhaps human blood. Maybe you should start wearing garlic the next time you see him.

“I dunno, but I’m pretty sure San is at home cuddling with Shiber in his sleep.” You reply with a completely deadpan voice, not at all amused at being woken up so early at night. Early at night? Or is it the morning? Late at night? Why are you even thinking about this?

“Aww, you know that you’re my best friend.” You can practically hear the pout on his face over the phone and let out a massive snort, rolling over on your bed to stare at the ceiling, internally letting out a massive sigh.

Best friend. A goddamn best friend is all you are to him. Stupid Jung Wooyoung and his stupid pretty eyes, stupid pretty face, stupid pretty everything. The two of you had met a couple of years back when you’d first started college, seated next to each other on the first day of school. Upon glancing upon his face, you had nearly choked. Knife like jawline, near flawless skin, adorably big eyes behind rounded minimalist glasses, you had momentarily wondered what a model was doing in your school. He could pull off silver hair without looking like an eighty year old man, for god’s sake.

Next to you, no less. You didn’t like how he was making you look like a pig just by existing.

That had already been enough for you to instinctively dislike him, so when the professor had asked for all of you to introduce yourselves to each other, you had intended to give him some silly, standoffish answer and never speak to him again. You knew it was petty, yes, but who had given him the right to look so good?

No one. That’s who.

But to your absolute shock, the young man had simply grabbed your hand and pumped it up and down enthusiastically, seemingly overflowing with too much energy to contain.

“You look like my new best friend!”

And everything had sort of… gone downhill from there.

Being Wooyoung’s best friend is somehow simultaneously one of the most beautiful and terrible things you’ve ever had to experience. He’s unbelievably kind, unlike what you had expected from such a pretty face, and possibly one of the most perfect beings to walk the surface of this earth. That’s the good part. You sometimes still can’t believe you’re friends.

The bad part is that you’re in love with him.

It’s no surprise, honestly. Who in this school isn’t in love with Jung Wooyoung? What you hate is that there are so many prettier, sweeter, nicer girls who all want a chance with your best friend, and you find yourself constantly grinding your teeth as they pass you love letters and chocolates with perfectly manicured hands, fighting the urge to throw them in the trash right before their eyes. You wish you could be half as bold as they are, but every time you so much as muster the courage to open your mouth to confess, Wooyoung’s breathless grin stops all brain activity and it just… somehow hasn’t happened for the last three months.

Swift and decisive, that’s you alright.

You scream into your pillow.

Best friend. Oooooh, you hate the sound of those words like it’s the screeching of the devil itself.

“Uhh, Chin Hae? You alright there?” Wooyoung’s voice suddenly drops in tone, a little more concerned and you’re tempted to chuck your phone out of the window while screaming obscenities to the heavens. He’s really not helping with this whole barely buried crush on him. In fact, you’re not sure how he hasn’t noticed. You’re pretty sure San already has.

But the phone. The phone is expensive.

You try your best to force a smile back on your face even though he can’t see it, raising the phone back to your ear. “I’m fine, Wooyoung. And don’t think I’ve forgotten that you woke me up. Why exactly did you call me again?”

There’s a brief pause at the other end of the line.

“Do you wanna go and grab some cup ramen?”

You actually lift the phone away from your ear to stare at the screen, as if Wooyoung would be able to see your incredulous face somehow. “Wooyoung, it’s 12.03 in the morning.”

“12:05, actually.” Wooyoung pipes up unhelpfully in a hopeful voice and you groan, rolling out of bed as you search for something appropriate to wear in this ungodly temperature, hoping that your fingers and toes won’t freeze off in the meantime. Shivering and dancing around once your feet touch what feels like an ice block under your feet, the cool marble of your bedroom floor chills you to the very bone.

“Ah, cold, cold, cold!” You yelp, scooting over to the wardrobe as fast as you can, fingers rifling through your selection of puffy coats before they still momentarily on a furry collar. You glance down at your current outfit, a lumpy, knitted sweater and fuzzy socks with reindeer print on them. Maybe you should wear something that looks better in front of Wooyoung?

“Chin Hae? Hurry up, it’s cold out here!” Wooyoung exclaims into your ear, pulling you out of your thoughts. Sighing, you shake you head as you imagine your best friend with an adorable pout on his stupid perfect face, pulling out the thickest black coat you have, one that Wooyoung gave to you a couple of months ago. Then something strikes you.

“You’re there already? Without knowing whether I’d be coming? In this weather?” You say almost incredulously as you shrug on the coat, adjusting the sleeves to fit better around your arms, the phone wedged in the space between your cheek and shoulder.

“Well, I knew you’d come!” Wooyoung says proudly, voice filled with so much surety that you’re tempted to cry for a moment. Maybe it’s just your infatuation, but everything he’s said lately has caused butterflies to flutter in your chest. You both love and hate the feeling at the same time, but it’s not like you’ve had much control over it. “I’m such an amazing friend-”

“Are you stupid?” You grumble, slipping down the hallway and grabbing your boots from the door side. Wooyoung gasps dramatically over the phone at your words.

“How dare you? I am hurt, you know. Are you questioning my mental capabilities?”

“Every single day.” You retort dryly, opening the door only to get hit by a blast of cold air right in the face. Holy shit it’s so cold you’re going to turn into an ice popsicle before you leave the house and maybe you should just go back to that warm, comfy bed-

Wooyoung’s laugh and perky voice comes over the speaker, echoing in your ears. “I’m waiting for you! Be there or be square!”

Before you can protest that he’s absolutely off his rocker for thinking that anyone in their right mind would leave the comfort of their home in this near hellish weather, the call ends and you’re left staring at your phone in wide eyed shock. His contact photo blinks back innocently at you, cheerful, bubbly smile on full display with his arms thrown around your shoulders, the two of you splattered with bright green and red paint after finishing your art project a year ago.

“I’d take being a square any day.” You mumble, then you smack yourself in the head and groan when you feel your heart melting. You’re not supposed to be this whipped for him, damnit! But you can’t find it in yourself to get angry at him in the least.

“You’re lucky I love you.” You hiss vehemently at your phone. And as you stalk towards the convenience store with murder in your eyes, you can’t help but feel like you really need to get over this stupid crush on Wooyoung before he makes you do something stupid.

When you do reach the midnight convenience store, it’s open and you step inside, glad to be free from the bite of the icy winds. It’s absolutely freezing out there, how Wooyoung can come out with the most ridiculous of plans is something you love about him, but will probably never understand.

Standing in the aisle, you wave at the lone cashier at the counter, he’s playing a game on his phone but returns your greeting, and your eyes scan the rows of snacks and bottled drinks in search of your best friend.

“You made it!”

A frightened squeak leaves your lips as you startle at the noise. Then you see Wooyoung sitting at the table near the glass wall with five cups of ramen before him, an endearing shit eating grin on his face.

You smack him in the shoulder hard as you slide into the seat next to him, grabbing your own cup from him with a pout. Wooyoung chuckles in amusement, rubbing at his arm in mock pain.

“I can’t believe you made me come all the way here for cup ramen in the middle of the night.” You tell him with a scowl on your face as you open up the lid. Steam creeps over your numb fingers and warms them up, and you grab your chopsticks to eat your ramen as fast as possible.

After that trek through all that snow, you’re ravenous.

“Hey, don’t eat so fast or-”

Shoveling the piping hot ramen into your mouth, you nearly choke on the first bite as the noodles scald your tongue. Coughing, you set the cup and chopsticks down and you can hear Wooyoung laughing hysterically at your side, his high pitched laughter bouncing off the walls of the empty store.

“Stop-” You cough again and hit Wooyoung on the arm in embarrassment. God, you should have never left the safety of your house. “Stop laughing at me!”

“Alright, alright.” He stifles his chuckles, passing you an uncapped bottle of iced coffee. Grumbling about betrayal and false friendships, you snatch it from him and down what’s left, his warm hands coming up to rub your back soothingly.

“You’re wearing those socks I bought you last Christmas. You swore you threw them out the second you unwrapped them.” Wooyoung remarks with a teasing grin and you growl at him, slapping a hand over his mouth.

“You saw nothing.” You whisper menacingly into his ear, Wooyoung’s eyes glinting with amusement as his gaze meet yours. Your heart stutters for a second.

Then he sticks out his tongue to brush your palm.

“Ew!” You yelp and yank your arm back from his face, only to find him howling with mirth. Scowling, you plop back in your seat and grumble under your breath, picking up your chopsticks.

For the next hour or so, you and Wooyoung eat cup ramen side by side and watch the snowflakes outside fall gently to the ground, covering your footprints from earlier in a blanket of soft, powdery white. Wooyoung speeds his way through the first two cups of ramen before finally slowing down on the third one, his lips adorably red and swollen from the spicy taste. The two of you talk about nothing and everything, merely enjoying the company of each other.

When the two of you step out of the convenience shop and start on the road home, the snow has stopped for the most part aside from a few stray snowflakes here and there, but it’s still freezing cold. You raise your hands to your mouth to blow on them and rub them together, shaking your head in exasperation.

“I still can’t believe you ate five whole cups on your own, Wooyoung.”

“You know me, babe.” He winks impishly at you, but then his gaze softens a little as he looks at you with a fond smile. You watch the snowflakes land in his soft grey hair and for a moment, he looks so ethereal that he really just steals your breath away.

“Don’t call me that.” You bop him on the nose and he jumps, taking your hands into his.

“You’re freezing!” He comments with a pout, puffing out hot little breaths over your fingers. You try to wipe the warm, content smile off your face before he can see it, fixing your face into a scowl.

“Of course I am, who do you think dragged me out at 12:03 in the morning to eat cup ramen?” You shake your head in exasperation as you glance at the head of silvery grey hair before you, his head rising to give you a mischievous grin.

“Alright...” He drags the word out playfully, his cheeks flush from the cold. “Where else do you want me to warm you up?”

You point to your cheeks. The sides of your face feel near frozen. “Here.”

Wooyoung ducks to the side, blowing warm air on each cold cheek. They turn red upon contact with his breath, whether it’s from the cold or embarrassment, you hope he never finds out. “Where else?”

You point to your ears. You can’t see them for yourself, but Wooyoung has always told you that they flush pink in the cold winter air. Wooyoung grins and blows on each too, and warm blood rushes there in response to his touch. “And?”

You point to your nose. “It’s cold here.”

Wooyoung’s face leans forward to meet yours and your eyes slide shut. His breath ghosts over your nose, tickling you just a little, and you can feel his lips brush against your skin ever so gently before he pulls away.

“Where else?” He hums, squeezing your hands lightly in his. There’s a distinctively teasing smile playing on his lips. You touch your own in response.

“Here.” You point at your lips. They get cold fast, and in the winter they always get chapped, which you absolutely hate-

Wooyoung’s mouth dips down to meet yours.

You don’t register it for a moment, the taste of spicy ramen lingering on your lips as you ponder the flavour. It’s faint, not quite as strong as earlier, and you mumble against his lips. “You really ate too much ramen, Wooyoung, even your mouth tastes spicy now-”

Then you freeze.

Your eyes fly open in shock at what has just happened, a sharp intake of breath passing your lips. Wooyoung looks temporarily confused for a moment, before he too, realises what he’s just done.

The two of you spring apart, both turning red as tomatoes. You gape at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water, your brain short circuiting as if you’ve walked straight into a power generator.

“You kissed-”

“I kissed-”

The two of you fall into utter silence for a moment, merely staring at each other in shock. Wooyoung’s face is as red as a cherry, a rosy red blush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck, mouth sputtering out nonsensical words of its own accord. “You... I... if... kiss... become...girlfriend?”

You shriek and bolt down the path at the last word.

Your short circuited brain can’t take any more.

Wooyoung sighs as he watches you go, shaking his head under his breath. Yes, he has feelings for you. Yes, he has been crushing on you for the last six months. Yes, he has asked you out tonight to enjoy your company because he loved seeing you like that, face bare and hair thrown into a messy bun, completely and utterly real.

But he never intended on kissing you out of the blue!

“I... I just need to apologize to her tomorrow and tell her it was all a mistake.” Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair, teeth worrying his bottom lip anxiously. What if you’re too awkward to look him in the eye after this? He smacks himself in the forehead with a groan.

He’s such an idiot.

Suddenly, he hears the sound of crunching snow and blinks in confusion, raising his head. The second he does, soft, warm lips press against his too, moving so gently he feels all the air leave his lungs in one gasp.

Then all too fast, you pull away and Wooyoung only blinks at you owlishly in shock.

“Your lips were cold too!” You shout in his ears, face burning bright crimson with embarrassment. “See you tomorrow, Wooyoung!”

And then you’re running off again at top speed, nearly slipping on the snowy road and his heart leaps into his chest in a panic. But you catch your balance, slipping and sliding, before disappearing around the corner of the street.

His tongue darts out, sliding across his lips in wonderment.

His first kiss tastes like spicy ramen, iced coffee and best of all...

You.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #w; wooyoung #w; oneshot

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sylvain-writes · 5 years

Text

To Be Seen (TMNT Leonardo x Reader)

Rated: PG; Leonardo x Artist Reader (Gender Neutral)

Prompt Fill for @whygz

Leo finds Reader’s art depicting their interest for him. Reader has a stutter, especially when nervous. Happy ending (of course).

When you see him sitting in the dojo, under the great tree, your stomach twists and your heart jumps. It’s almost no different than the last time you walked in on him during a quiet moment--always a spike of anxiety, always a flutter in your core. But today he has a book propped on his knee, his brow furrowed in thought, the blue tails of his bandana twisting between his fingers, and you know. You just know.

He’s found it. Your portfolio. He found it and you can’t believe that Honor Boy actually opened it. He’s sitting there, holding your art like looking through it isn’t the gravest violation of privacy he could have made, and the anxiety you feel isn’t just the crush you struggle and fail to ignore. There’s embarrassment and anger and fear. If he’s seen what you’ve drawn, then he knows the secret you’ve kept so closely guarded. If he knows your true feelings for him, then everything between you is going to change.

Everyone has their way to center, their hobbies and interest and talents. The things that consume them and put their minds at ease. For Donatello it’s his machines and music. For Leonardo it’s meditation and martial arts. Raphael has the gym and nights out with Casey. Michelangelo hops from the kitchen to the arcade without prejudice.

And you… you found your peace in your art. The scratch of pencils over the textured paper of your notebook, the smudge of graphite on the edge of your hand, the calluses on your knuckles. You live in it--your art. It’s all part of it. You find peace while sitting in the quiet corners of a room. Your art is your safe space.

It wasn't until you told yourself that you could have this space, the small piece of the world that's all your own, that you left yourself open up. You promised yourself no one would see it, no one would judge it. You carved out this space, you made your promises, and the art poured out of you.

And now Leonardo sits in your usual spot with your art--your heart--in his hands. He traces the book’s binding with his thumb and your chest aches. Your arms and face tingle as you watch him and wonder how much he’s seen. Feelings of self-consciousness grow in you like a wall, threatening to immobilize you. But you take a step forward, forcing anger past your embarrassment.

Your lips part, ready to call Leo out for what he’s done. But he beats you to the punch.

“Hey,” he says, looking up. It’s a quiet greeting. More tender than it has any right to be. His expression is so soft it’s disarming.

You harden your stare. He’s not allowed to look at you like this anymore. Not after this. He’s taken the one piece of this world that was your own and looked inside without permission. You would have never crossed this line, if circumstances were reversed. You would never trample his rock garden or mess with his weapons. So, no, he doesn’t get this; he doesn’t get immediate forgiveness after trespassing through your privacy--even if his voice does carry all the comforts you’ve ever craved.

When he requests your company, the book is still in his lap. For what it’s worth, he doesn’t hide what he’s found. “Come sit?” he asks carefully. And you want to. He’s your best friend. But you need to keep your distance. You’ll forgive him too easily if you step into his orbit and let yourself be carried away by his charms.

He’s looking at you with his large blue eyes that always seem to see. You struggle to stand your ground, when what you really want to do is hide. He’s already seen too much. What right does he have to ask for more?

You’ve always preferred to exist where you won’t be seen. It’s a talent you’ve been honing since even before meeting the turtles. You like quiet spaces where it seems like life can slow down for a while. It’s why you’ve spent so much time in the dojo, by the garden. Nestled among the roots of the great tree, you could lean back and listen to the rainwater runoff. You could watch the boys train, or Leonardo tend his garden or sit for tea. ‘It’s all a form of meditation,’ he’d said once when he caught you stealing a glance, ‘if you let it in.’

‘Let it in.’ Leonardo’s been saying that alot. Especially recently. And you’re not sure what it’s supposed to mean.

Leonardo is patient, even when it looks like you aren’t going to join him on the mat. “This is yours, right?” He turns the book in his hands, then holds it out to you like it’s nothing more than a casual exchange between friends. But it’s not as easy as all that, no matter how badly you wish it could be. “I guess you left it behind when me and the guys had to head out in a hurry.”

You look off to the side, if only to escape the guilty glint in Leo’s eye. ‘Head out in a hurry’ is putting it lightly. The guys had scrambled into the van and gone topside with only half their gear in order to catch up with the Foot. They had left you worrying for hours without a word of their safety. But the lowlifes had been caught by sunrise and the turtles returned home unscathed. You, however, had to get back to the university for an early studio session and didn’t notice your private portfolio was missing until you were setting up your desk.

You hug the portfolio as you wrack your mind for a response. ‘Thanks,’ feels too passive, too permissive. And as for anything stern, well, you aren’t sure you can string a sentence together without tripping over your words.

During your silence, Leo continues to explain. “It was Mikey’s turn to clean the dojo. He found it there and-”

“A-and he th-thought you guys could just g-go through my things?” You push your way through the sentence, rising up on your toes as if looking down on Leonardo will give you confidence. You know you should take time to calm down, that your stutter will only frustrate you further the more upset you allow yourself to become.

“No. Mikey brought it to me since-”

“Since w-w-what, Leo?” Since he saw what’s inside? Shit, you know it’s because Mikey saw what’s inside. He’s not a moron. And he’s an artist in his own right. He’s good at puzzles. Most of his videogames are strategy based, when push comes to shove. Of course he’d figure it out, even if your work is more abstract than not.

Leo sits unperturbed by your anger. In fact, he remains steady in voice and posture as he replies, “Since I’ve been meaning to talk to you.”

You wish his calm wasn’t so damn, well, calming. You bite your lips between your teeth and take a deep breath through your nose and damnit if that doesn’t calm you further. You ask him, “About what?” and you’re surprised by how gentle you sound. Where’s your indignance? He messed up. He should be apologizing. Why isn’t the guy who values his virtues so much apologizing?

“I wanted to talk to you about... your art.” This is the first time you’ve heard even a hint of hesitation, of nervousness, in your stalwart friend.

You shrink into yourself, even more afraid of what he could have to say, and Leo’s frown deepens. Despite your preference for solitude, despite the feelings you’ve kept from him, you’ve never pulled away before. “What about it?”

“I still have the sketch you made of my katanas from a while back,” he admits, but it almost sounds like he’s changing the subject. “You make it look effortless. Which I know it isn't. But… I see you, y'know?”

There’s a pause afterward and it feels like the world is rushing in around you. What does he see?

He continues, “When you're in the dojo. You get so caught up in your work. I see you stretching and shaking off the cramps, but you're driven. And I don’t think anyone really sees…” He folds his hands in his lap as he holds your gaze. “But I want to. If that's alright."

“You want to see what I’ve drawn?”

“I want…” Instead of finishing his thought, Leonardo takes a moment for himself and then nods.

“You didn’t look?” It surprises you how easy it is to believe him.

“Of course not.” He admits his ignorance of what’s hidden within your portfolio; he affirms that your assumption he’d breached your trust had been a misunderstanding. He looks up at you with a curious tilt to his head and an apology for worrying you in his gaze. Your heart breaks a little realizing he isn’t the one who should be apologizing at all.

“Geez, Honor Boy,” you force a smile as your anger recedes and your anxiety comes rushing back. “Th-they really b-broke the mold when they m-made you, huh?”

Leo glances at the portfolio in your arms and then finds your eyes again. With patience and care, he holds out his palm. “May I?” There’s no expectation in his request. You know you can refuse him without retribution. But you think, it’s better to know. It’s better for each of you to know where the other stands. At least then, your world won’t be clouded with maybes and what ifs.

Not trusting your words, you swallow hard. Your hand shakes as you hold out the book. You think you’ll lose your grip if he doesn’t take it quickly. But Leo’s movements are slow. He blinks up at you as he brushes his fingertips over yours and your heart skips a beat. When he receives the book it’s with the care that he takes regarding all of the things he holds most dear. You think you’re being silly to entertain the idea that maybe he holds you among them.

You chew your lips and tug at your sleeves and you watch him lift the cover. With small humphs and thoughtful nods, he pauses and flips through your most intimate thoughts. You lift your voice to explain which are assignments and which were done in your leisure, but he already seems to know. You wonder how he can sit there so calmly while he holds your heart in his hands. How he can sit there while your throat tightens, your hands curl into fists, your face burns red. Your eyes sting.

When he looks up at you, he seems caught off guard by your expression. “Are you alright? You’re not. What’s wrong?”

You know that if he goes any further into that book, he’ll see. He’ll find the shift--the moment you started falling for him. It’s illustrated in those pages. You’re still not sure if you’re ready for him to find out, but a greater part of you needs this uncertainty to be over.

Leo says, “These are incredible,” and your stomach flips. “I knew you were an artist, but… why don’t you display your work?”

You shake your head. The question is better answered by the pages he’s yet to see. “Th-there’s more.”

Leo considers your words and holds out his hand to you. “Come sit,” he requests. They’re the same words as before, but somehow they hold more weight. He wears an expression that leads you to believe he’d be crushed if you don’t join him this time.

You sit. But you don’t do it for him. You do it because when he looks through the next half of the book, you’re afraid your legs will give out beneath you. You’re afraid you’ll run out of the dojo and, for the first time, truly hide from your best friend. You’re afraid that if you don’t sit with Leo, you’ll lose him. So, you sit.

Curled up with your knees to your chest and your chin propped on top of them, you prompt Leo to turn the page. You hold your breath as he complies.

There’s blue. So much blue. All different hues. There are lines, sharp like the blades of Leo’s swords. Blended hues flowing across the pages in ribbons. There are sunbursts of blue and white and grey.

Leo turns the pages by the corners, peeking through the rest. You wonder what he’s looking for. Does he think he’ll find similar sections for purple, orange, and red? You know he won’t. Your thoughts, your art, is consumed by blue.

Leo’s head is bowed and his eyes are downcast when he closes the book and sets it aside. He’s taking deep breaths when he turns to you and you take one of your own to prepare yourself for rejection.

But then he lifts his gaze and his sunburst irises are looking at you with new light. With understanding. With something more. You convince yourself the hope you see is merely a reflection of what your own eyes must be broadcasting.

“May I kiss you?”

His question comes as such a surprise it renders you speechless. You’re stuck, stock still, for an interminable moment before he speaks again. The sound of your name on his tongue draws you out of your fog and you feel yourself nodding before you realize you’re doing so.

Leo rises to one knee to close the space between you. The air is charged and you know the crackle of nervous energy is all your own. Because Leo is calm. He’s sure.

The hair on your arms stand on end as he leans in. Your gaze flits from his eyes to his lips and back.

When his hand alights to your cheek it’s a soft touch, but insistent. He’s not scared and his confidence in the moment eases your own worry. He’s secure in his feelings for you and you’re safe in his hands. It’s enough assurance that you allow yourself one last look at his eyes before letting yours close. His hand is gentle as it guides you toward him, before he presses his mouth to yours.

Somehow, even after months of falling, it seems like you’ve never wanted to kiss Leo as much as you do now that he’s caught your lips with his own. You need more.

Your hands slide up his shoulders to the back of his neck and pull him in. He makes a small sound of surprise, and you can’t help but smile against his lips, knowing you’ve caught the ninja off guard. He braces himself with one hand against the tree behind you as you deepen the kiss.

Kissing Leo is more than you could have imagined it would be. It feels right and you feel settled. For the first time, in a long time, you feel seen. You’re being seen and it isn’t terrifying, because Leo is the one looking and you trust him to keep you safe.

#Leonardo x Reader #TMNT x Reader #Leonardo x Gender Neutral Reader #TMNT x Gender Neutral Reader #Artist!Reader #Prompt fill #whygz

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