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saint-bestial · 27 days

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yet again i'm on my stupidass werewolf/vampire au shit so you people have to deal with it. this time we're fast forwarding to where sylvester and kiryu are both 19-20 and kiryu is getting turned into a vampire. there is copious blood and also vomit and violence in this barely edited writing equivalent of a messy doodle on the back of a napkin. yay

The unease in Sylvester’s gut churned harder with each bare foot’s squelch against the damp earth. His heart thundered, awakening every sense. His lungs filled with odors of iron and sweet rot. And in his brain, a seed of panic germinated and blossomed.

Root and rock alike rose from the ground as if commanded to trip him up. He leapt with lupine grace, weaving through the trees. He could not allow anything to slow him. Bounding over a fallen log, he landed into a patch of mud only to scramble free back onto his feet.

He sorely wished it was a full moon night, or close to it. But it had been over a week ago. His body was in the middle of returning to its human appearance, doing him no favors in hastening his arrival.

It didn’t matter. Kyosuke was in deep shit, full moon or no.

Two figures stood in the clearing ahead. Gravestones jutted around them like grey teeth. In Sylvester’s suffering low light vision, they appeared to be huddling together.

But he knew better. He awoke a full sprint, tearing his feet from the muck with a burst of power. Adrenaline poured through his veins as he closed in on the pair.

They came into focus. An older, black-haired man held Kyosuke by the waist, pressing him into his body. His lips were locked onto his jugular, drinking deep. Kyosuke’s legs had failed so only his captor’s arms prevented him from falling. His head lulled, eyes rolling into the back of his head before he went fully limp.

Sylvester pounced. And then he screamed.

His bones exploded with a resounding gunshot crack before the world went silent. It was as though he’d ran directly into a fire. Every nerve ignited as a bloody gush turned his mouth and nose into a sanguine fountain. More blood poured down the sides of his head from his ears. His muscles pried themselves apart, unwillingly twisting themselves into new shapes. Organs thrashed in his abdominal cavity like new life in an egg sac, vying for freedom. Ruined bones were repurposed, their shards and needle-like fragments assembled into those of a wolf. Fur grew in over his flesh so quickly it felt like having his skin scrubbed with razor blades.

The entire process completed in less than a second, mid-air. For Sylvester, it might as well have been years before his senses returned, sharpened and combat-ready. Another cold bath of adrenaline washed over the pain.

He collided with Kyosuke’s assailant as a slab of pure, white-hot fury. The vampire cried out in rage as Sylvester knocked his prey free from his arms. Sylvester seized his skull in one massive claw.

The thing hissed, raking at Sylvester’s arms and chest to no avail. He bashed his head against one of the headstones again and again until the marker could only be recognized as gravel. He sunk his teeth into the putrid, undead flesh and shook his jaws until he pulled the shoulder free from the socket. And then, to ensure he’d be too weak to give chase, he clawed the vampire’s chest and belly until not an inch was left unmarred.

As Sylvester pounced away to retrieve Kyosuke, the creature struggled to his feet and used the remainder of his power to flee the scene. He cared little about dealing with him now, however. Kyosuke laid motionless before him.

...

The ensuing desperate run through the forest to get Kyosuke to safety quickly turned into an agonizing trudge.

The adrenaline receded. Sylvester’s entire body was falling apart. He rested Kyosuke against a tree and threw up blood and chunks of tissue. His wolf features were already melting away, overflowing his nervous system with more searing pain. Not only that, but his clothes were destroyed during the transformation, leaving him completely exposed to the elements. Regardless, he had to press on. The abandoned cabin wasn’t far.

On the fourth stop to vomit, Sylvester wondered if he was going to die. His face was slick with puke and blood and tears and everything was going horribly wrong. He’d been crawling on his hands and knees with Kyosuke on his back. The world swayed around him as though the entire thing were on water.

Still, at least he’d die trying.

...

At the cabin, Sylvester laid Kyosuke out on a rug in an interior room. Sylvester couldn’t muster the strength to lift him any further than an inch or two anymore. His body ached for collapse, but he needed to make sure Kyosuke was still alive. Restlessness over him defeated even complete exhaustion.

He placed mud-caked fingers on Kyosuke’s throat, feeling around until a faint pulse thrummed under his fingertips. He’d survived the initial bite. If Sylvester hadn’t arrived when he did, he’d be dead. Easily.

Sylvester shuddered. Another lump appeared in his throat. He buried his face in his hands.

Kyosuke was going to turn. He had no way of thwarting it beyond simply finishing him now before the process began. There was no way he could bring himself to do that. Without him, Sylvester had no one. He broke away from his birth pack to stay close to him.

Kyosuke was his pack. And he should’ve turned him when he asked. All the times he’d asked. Begged. Pleaded.

And now this. Kyosuke was going to turn into a vampire because of his stupid shortsighted refusal.

He damned the filth all over him and laid down next to him, wrapped his arms around him and pulled him into his embrace. He nuzzled the top of his head, then gently pressed Kyosuke’s face into his chest. He caressed his fading skin like he always did when Kyosuke fell to pieces on bad nights. He breathed him in, a desperate attempt to immortalize the last of his living scent in his mind. And he squeezed, clinging to him with his last iota of strength.

As if his body’s warmth could prevent Kyosuke’s from going cold.

#oc: sylvester sauvage #au: maneaters #shivshipping

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shadow-assassin-blix · 3 years

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Never Thought This Would Happen

Soulmate AU: Combination of two different soulmate ideas. You can feel each other’s physical pains and if you write on your body, it will show up on your soulmate’s as well.

This is for the Ben Barnes Secret Santa fic exchange. @fific7 I hope you enjoy this!

Billy Russo x reader. Word count: 5137.

Warnings: Mentions of being hit by a car, some canon typical violence (neither incidents are overly detailed) and Billy talking about his past abuse. Lots of fluff, some angst, a dash of spice.

Happy Holidays!

Soulmate. The concept always made Billy scoff. He didn’t believe in it despite the fact that whatever happened to your body, whether it was an injury, or a message written on their body you could feel/see it. He very often rolled his eyes when he would see a silly message on his arm. His soulmate greatly enjoyed drawing smiley faces or sending puns. He tended to ignore it. Hell. He didn’t even think about the potential pain he put her through when he joined the marines. Nor did he think about it when he, Frank, and Curtis created Anvil together and went on dangerous missions together.

He didn’t think about… until the day he met her in the hospital.

It was supposed to be an ordinary guard job. Protect the rich schmuck from retaliation as he campaigned to be New York’s Mayor. No one suspected that someone would be so angry about his political views, that they would try and take him out. Frank wound up getting shot trying to protect him. The three of them were at the hospital, as Frank was prepped for surgery to remove the bullets and the fragments.

Most of the day he had felt a tickling sensation on his arm, as his soulmate sent message after message to him. It was starting to annoy him. He and Curtis were waiting for a doctor to tell them about Frank’s progress, when Billy felt a sudden pain randomly throughout his body. The pain was overwhelming to the point where he had to sit down; Curtis trying to help by coaching him through breathing techniques.

As that occurred, the doors to the emergency room burst open as EMTs raced in pushing a gurney with a young woman on it.

Several doctors and nurses sprung into action, asking for the details about what happened.

“Car accident. Young lady was hit trying to walk across the street. Several bones are broken, and we suspect that she has some internal bleeding. Guy ran the red light going 80mph,” One of the EMT’s explained quickly.

Billy spotted as she was pushed past several doodles and words on her arms. Billy took off his suit jacket and rolled up sleeve; his mind hoping that he was wrong. That this was just a coincidence.

He saw the words “Hey! I’m in NY right now, and wow! Everything is amazing! Is it silly that I kinda hope you live in the area?” “Trying a slice of NY style pizza for the 1st time!” with a doodle of a pizza slice next to it. He looked between his arm and hers, and he realized… with growing concern… that they matched.

She was rolled back into surgery, and he stared at the doors with a blank face.

“Hey man? Talk to me. What’s going through that brain of yours? Did you know that girl?” Curtis questioned him, trying to figure out why Billy was so freaked out.

“I… I think that was my soulmate?” Billy breathed once it finally registered.

Curtis stared at him in mild shock, “I don’t know whether to feel bad for you or laugh. The forever bachelor’s soulmate has appeared.”

Billy honestly didn’t know how to feel either. His first thought was to avoid her at all costs. He focused his attention on Frank and making sure he stayed safe.

It wasn’t until several hours later that they were informed that Frank was resting comfortably in his own room. Surgery was a success.

The nurse informed them that only one visitor at a time could see him, so while Curtis stepped inside, Billy stayed out in the hall. While he waited, he noticed that in the room next to Frank’s, was his soulmate.

‘It’s…it’s not possible right? It’s… it’s just a coincidence?’ He thought as he stepped into her room, hesitantly.

He walked over to her, his eyes roving over the many bandages that covered her body.

He pulled out a pen, and drew a random swirl on his hand, his eyes staring intently at hers. A moment passed and a swirl appeared on her hand, identical to his.

“So, it really is you?” Billy sighed, unsure of how to feel.

Billy was adamant he would never meet his soulmate, and that if he did, he would ignore them. He wasn’t one to be tied down. However, he didn’t expect that this is how they would meet. This was the first time he ever truly felt pain from his soulmate, and it was eye-opening. It made him… feel a bit guilty… for his lack of care in avoiding getting harmed.

He walked back out into the hallway trying to figure out… Figure out what? His next move? Did… did he want to get to know her? He almost felt like he had to explain himself to her. Or… did he actually want to get to know her? His thoughts felt chaotic.

Maybe… maybe if he talked to Frank? Frank who had found a second in Karen, his first soulmate being Marie. Maybe… maybe he’d know what to do?

Curtis had stepped out of Frank’s room, and was going to call Karen, to let her know what happened, so Billy figured now would be best.

Billy took a seat next to his bed, and Frank sighed heavily.

“Sometimes… I really hate our job,” Frank joked slightly.

“But… we’re good at it, right?” Billy tossed back, with a slight smirk.

Frank shook his head, before staring at him seriously, “So… Curtis mentioned something strange. Your soulmate… is here?”

“…Yeah. She’s uhh. She’s next door in fact. I… I’m not sure what to do,” Billy admitted.

“Wasn’t your original plan something along the lines of ‘pretend they don’t exist?’ You were always so sure of that response,” Frank pointed out, with a slight frown.

“..Yeah.. However, it wasn’t until today that… I realized just how much that shit hurts, when you are able to feel their pain,” Billy began scratching at his chin before trying to dismiss, “I guess part of me feels a bit guilty for the constant shit I put my body through.”

“Well… the Marines was one thing… but you do realize that she probably also felt..” Frank jerked his head toward Billy’s shoulder.

Billy froze at that realization. He never thought about the possibility that she may have felt him being attacked by that bastard when he was a kid. He touched his shoulder, trying not to think too deeply about the memories.

“…What do you think I should do?” Billy asked quietly.

“I mean… I know what I would. Go next door and introduce myself. I also know that for all the confidence you have brother, you have never been one for commitment. Whether that’s due to you trying to protect yourself or if you really think you’d be happier being the forever bachelor, I don’t know. I do know that you owe her some explanation for the hell you’ve probably put her through. Not saying you have to immediately fall in love and date her but have a conversation with her and go from there,” Frank answered with a sigh.

“When did you get so wise?” Billy joked weakly.

“Marie. She always wanted the best for you, you know? Wanted you happy and be with someone who made you feel whole,” Frank said with a chuckle.

Billy shook his head thinking about Marie and her constant fretting. Billy moved to say something else, but he heard Karen’s voice freaking out in the hallway. Billy snorted standing up and making his way back out to the hallway as Karen rushed past.

A couple of hours passed, as Curtis and Billy made several phone calls trying to put out the fires that had occurred due to the shooting. Once everything had settled the two of them took a breath, sitting down.

Curtis was talking to him about something, but Billy didn’t hear him as he noticed a doctor and nurse walk into the room that held his soulmate. His focus was zeroed in on her.

A few minutes passed before the staff walked out, and Curtis had given up trying to get Billy’s attention.

Billy wasn’t sure how but suddenly he was standing in her doorway, about to step in. He pulled out the pen he had on him, gripping it tightly as he moved further in.

The woman, his soulmate, looked up at him, confused… and slightly worried.

“Hello? May I help you?” Her voice asked him cautiously.

Billy slowly lifted the pen and wrote ‘hello’ on his hand. The woman watched him curiously, before looking down at her own hand a moment later.

She gasped lightly as she looked between the two of them.

“Umm. Hey?” He started with a wince, feeling awkward.

She stared at him for a moment, before saying, “Bummer.”

It was Billy’s turn to be confused, “Excuse me?”

“Was hoping you’d be ugly. It would at least make up for the fact that you’ve ignored me and the bullshit pain I’ve gone through because of you. But nooo. You had to be drop dead gorgeous,” She grumbled slightly, shaking her head.

Billy stared at her blankly for a moment and after he processed what she said he weakly chuckled, “Think you’re the first person to ever be disappointed by me being handsome.”

“Oh! I’m not disappointed! Please don’t take what I said too seriously! I just… I mean… never thought that this is how we would meet y’know?” She said worriedly.

“Not gonna lie. I never thought this would happen either. Are you… are you okay?” He asked her, his eyes glancing at the many bandages.

“Yeah. I’m good for now. Can’t believe it took me getting hit by a car for my soulmate to actually write back to me,” She said with a teasing smile.

“Well, not gonna lie, besides the occasional random pains in my abdomen and papercuts, you’ve lived your life pretty cautiously. So, it was kind of flooring to feel all that pain and then… see you pass by while I was waiting to hear on my friend,” Billy noted, sighing. “He had gotten shot and was in surgery when you were rolled by me.”

“Oh wow. That’s quite the double whammy. Umm. By the way… what’s your name? Cause mentally I keep calling you Handsome and I don’t want to accidentally say it aloud when we’ve only just met,” The woman reminded him.

“Billy Russo. It’s a pleasure to meet you…” Billy began.

She told him her name before saying “You can call me London though. It’s a nickname that my friends gave me.”

“Why London?” Billy asked curiously.

“I lived in England for many years. It was practically home for me. However, as a photographer, I tend to travel as much as possible. Never been one to settle down in one location,” London explained to him. “My friends chose London cause that’s where a big portion of my first portfolios were set in.”

Billy opened his mouth to say something else when his phone rang. He sighed heavily, apologizing as he answered it.

“Russo,” He stated first, listening to the person talking. “What are you talking about? The job is done. We are not going to protect someone who refused to give us all the facts about the threats against him. He can find someone else to take bullets for him. I am not putting my team at risk again.”

He hung up with a growl of annoyance.

“Hm. That… that was oddly sexy,” London mumbled to herself.

Billy ran a hand down his face, feeling exhausted.

“Sorry. Umm. Work. So… are you here in New York for work or for fun?” Billy asked trying to seem casual.

“Both. I have a couple of weddings, and other jobs lined up, especially with journalists. Was supposed to meet a journalist to talk about some company called Anvil? I don’t know,” London said with a shrug.

Billy froze then chuckled.

“What?” London asked him, head tilted trying to figure him out.

“Well. It seems that… fate was going to bring you to me no matter what. I own Anvil. My best friends, Frank Castle and Curtis Hoyle, run it with me. I… I can’t believe this,” Billy shook his head in disbelief.

“Whoa. No way. You’re the CEO of the security agency? The former marine? And whoa wait… You’re best friends with the Punisher?” London couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

“Yes to all of the above,” Billy answered with pride.

“Marine. Hmm. Well. That explains a lot,” She said somewhat quietly.

Billy moved further into her room finally, asking silently if he could sit. At her nod, he does so.

“Uh. Yeah. Sorry about that… I guess I was. Well. Am pretty cavalier with my life. Most of what you felt was from me in the marines, and I apologize for not… taking your feelings into consideration. I’m sure… those pains were pretty alarming to you?” Billy apologized to her, feeling it was necessary.

“Yeah… it’s… quite the shocker to suddenly feel like I was shot and nothing to show for it. However, I will forgive you if…” She trailed off.

“If what?” Billy asked her, trying to appear annoyed.

“If… you give me a grand tour of NY. All of the best places to go. It doesn’t have to be… a romantic date or anything. I just want to get to know you, if you are down for that?” She proposed to him.

Billy looked at her for a moment. Really looked at her. Taking in her features, and her soft smile.

“I think I can handle that. Shall we exchange numbers? You can tell me when you’re released, and I can come get you if you’d like?” Billy offered.

Her smiled brightened and Billy found himself smiling back. A part of him was chastising himself, asking ‘why would you offer that? You don’t know this woman? Even if she is your soulmate? What happened to not wanting anything to do with her?’ However, a larger part of him desperately wanted to see her smile again.

They exchanged numbers, and he left her to rest alone. He stepped out into the hallway to see Curtis smirking at him.

“How did it go Prince Charming?” Curtis asked teasingly.

“Surprisingly well. So, let’s… let’s go get some grub… or a drink or two, yeah?” Billy suggested to him.

Curtis nodded his head and the two of them were off to their usual haunt; a local bar that served burgers and fries. The two of them after ordering, sat at the bar idly chatting. About 20 minutes had passed and Curtis started chuckling at him, out of the blue.

“What? What’s so funny?” Billy questioned him.

“Appears that soulmate of yours is occupying your mind. At least 3 women have tried flirting with you and you’ve yet to notice,” Curtis said once his laughter had calmed down.

Billy blinked, looking at him in mild confusion, “Huh?”

“You got it bad man. 20 minutes in and she already got you hooked,” Curtis said with a shake of his head.

Billy had no idea how to respond to that. He just continued drinking his beer, and further distracted himself when the food came out. It was true, he was thinking about London, but he didn’t want to admit that. He was going to take this one day at time, and just go from there.

A few days later, both Frank and London were being released from the hospital. Billy waited outside with Karen who kept staring at him confused. Most likely due to the fact that he held a small teddy bear.

London was rolled out first and Billy smiled smally at her walking over to meet her.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” He asked her as he and the nurse helped her stand up.

“I’m okay. Sore. But okay. Is that for me?” She asked him, looking at the teddy bear.

“Yes. Thought about flowers but wasn’t sure if you had any allergies. Figured the bear was the safer option,” Billy somewhat mumbled, sheepishly.

She quietly told him her favorite flower, and said, “The bear is very cute though, so thank you.”

Billy cleared his throat as he handed it to her, and then walked her over to his car. Billy was so preoccupied with her that he failed to notice Frank coming out and staring at him with a growing smirk.

Karen stood next to him, looking between him and Billy, questions littering her face.

“His soulmate. Guess Curtis was right, his attention really has become centered around her,” Frank spoke lowly, watching Billy take off in his car once he got her situated.

Karen snorted, trying not to laugh.

“Poor guy. Never seen him look so nervous, which didn’t make sense until now. Think he’s ever going to actually introduce her to us?” Karen asked as she and Frank moved to her car.

“Once the whole thing fully settles in his mind. I’m sure part of him still is trying to process this. Knowing him, he might come to a point where he distances himself from her for a time. When you’re used to being disappointed a lot, you tend to expect it,” Frank answered once they were in the car.

Back with Billy, they were halfway to her apartment that she was staying at.

“So… I know you said you were in New York for work… how long are you here for?” Billy questioned breaking the silence.

“I am booked out for the next year for various events. Trying to get rid of me already?” She lightly teased him.

“No. I was just.. wondering. You said the other day that you don’t like to be tied down to one place for too long,” Billy trailed off, not sure why the thought bothered him.

“Oh. I did say that didn’t I? I mean… I can find a reason or two to stay here already. However, we have a year to figure things out. We have time to decide… whatever we want this to be,” She offered, hesitantly moving to hold his hand, hers hovering over his.

Billy nodded not looking at her as he quietly grasped her hand and held it.

She bit her lip trying to hide her smile as she watched him. She could tell he was not used to this. Granted, it had been a while since she had been in a relationship herself, and her longest relationship didn’t last more than a couple of months. Between them finding their own soulmates, and others hating that she traveled for work, dating was difficult.

He took her home, and they discussed their plans for tomorrow. They discussed going to Central Park Zoo and taking a stroll around the park. She never got to try NY style pizza the other day, so they made a plan to go get a slice or 2 for lunch.

He made sure she was settled and comfortable, before leaving her.

The next day rolled around, and the two of them began their… date? At the zoo. She brought her camera with her, taking candids/snapshots of all the animals. Unbeknownst to him, she took a few shots of him while he wasn’t paying attention. He eventually caught on, playfully glaring at her.

“Alright my little shutterbug, shall we go get pizza?” Billy asked as they reached the end.

“‘My little shutterbug?’ Don’t think anyone’s ever called me that before. But yes. Let’s goooo,” She cheered.

The two of them ate, and Billy couldn’t help but think about how adorable she was while she listened intently to him explain the proper way to eat a slice of NY style pizza. Even moreso when she was eating and making a mess of herself.

Once they finished eating, they started the walk toward her apartment due to her feeling exhausted.

“Sorry. I feel like such an old lady, but everything is starting to feel sore again,” She explained with a wince.

“Don’t be. I understand. Do you need anything before I go?” Billy inquired, as she made her way inside and he stood in her doorway.

“I’m good. You… you can come in y’know?” She pointed out as she looked back at him.

Billy slowly took a step in, feeling very much not like himself. He was usually overly confident and self-assured and would have strutted in without any uncertainties.

He looked around her apartment and saw a lot of photography equipment, and photos scattered everywhere.

“So… would you like to… stay… and watch a movie or two?” She asked him after taking some medicine.

“Depends… Are you going to make me watch chick flicks?” Billy shot back with a raised eyebrow.

“I mean… while I do have some chick flicks, I have a great deal of other genres lots of action. Basically, every Disney movie possible,” She began listing, but stopped when she saw his nose twinge. “Do… do you not like Disney?”

“Never saw one to be honest. Just know they are kid’s shit,” Billy said with a shrug.

She gasped dramatically, “Never seen any of them? Oh. Ohhh we are fixing that. This is happening. I’m not sure what kind of childhood you had but you were deprived.”

Billy didn’t say anything in response to that, just watched her run over to a shelf full of brightly colored DVDS cases.

“We shall start from the beginning. Snow White doesn’t tend to be my favorite, but she is the first Disney movie. Well. Correction, she is the first Disney Princess Movie, the first cartoon is Steamboat Willie, but I digress. I will catch you up on them all. You show me all of New York, I show you all of Disney movie franchise. These will be our goals for the next year,” She rambled slightly, as she tugged him over to her couch, after popping the DVD in the player.

Billy sat next to her, pulling his phone out of his pocket and setting it down on coffee table. He shook his head as she curled up next to him, leaning against his arm slightly. As the movie began, he moved his arm to wrap around her shoulders, pulling her in closer. He can see her smile as she scooted closer to him, head moving to lie against his shoulder.

He watched the movie with her with vague interest, not quite understanding the plot. The movie ended and he turned to her with questions getting ready to pour from his mouth.

“Listen. I know. They… they don’t get much better. But the music is good and they’re pretty to look at, so we forgive the terrible plots,” She explained to him with a laugh.

And so began their weekly tradition of watching a Disney movie (or two depending on the mood), as part of their date nights. About 2 months had passed and after a long day of training and meetings, he was ready to just collapse into his bed. When he got to his apartment, London was waiting for him, with a bag full of Chinese takeout and a case of beer.

“You’re beautiful and wonderful, have I told ya that?” He murmured to her, leaning down to kiss her, before unlocking his door.

“Long day babe?” She asked him, as she watched him leave a trail of clothes and items on his way to his bedroom.

She heard him answer somewhat muffled, as she unpacked the food and grabbed some plates and utensils. When he stepped back out he wore a simple pair of sweats and nothing else. She gazed at his torso looking at each scar she could see. She shook her head and snapped out of it before he caught her.

The two of them made their plates, and quietly ate at his table. She was about halfway through when her eyes stopped on the scar that was on his left shoulder. She tried to think back to when she felt pain from that area, thinking it was from his time in the marines.

Billy noticed her staring and said quietly, “It was from when I was a kid. You keep asking me questions about my childhood and I know you’ve noticed that I don’t ever answer them. I was abandoned as a baby, went through the foster system. I was uh… about 10… maybe 11 when it happened. When a grown man calls you pretty, you know nothing good is going to come from it. I was able to fight back but he was able to break my arm and ripped my rotator cuff in 3 places.”

She felt her heart breaking, “I remember that. I remember crying and freaking out. My parents had no clue what to do, especially when physically there was nothing wrong. I was hoping it was something like… you were being like any normal boy and like skateboarding and a trick went wrong or something. Please tell me that bastard was arrested?’

“Yeah. One of the other boys that he uhh… he attacked spoke up about it. It’s one of those things I don’t like talking about a lot, but I figured you should know since… yeah,” His sentence trailed off and he stared blankly ahead of him.

London quietly stood up, moving over to him; she tapped his arm, motioning for him to lean back. He does as she asks, looking up at her curiously. She straddled his hips, as she took a seat in his lap. She bends her head down slightly, pressing small kisses to the scar that was on his shoulder.

Billy tensed for a moment before relaxing as he realized what she was doing. He gently lifted her head back up, gazing into her eyes before capturing her lips in a soft kiss.

She gasped against his lips, before returning the kiss, and deepening it with a soft moan. The two of them had kissed before but this felt…different. Their other kisses had been short and sweet. This… this was passion and intensity.

When they pulled away, trying to catch their breathes, Billy whispered to her, “Hold onto me.”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, as his hands grasped her thighs lifting her as he stood up. He carried her over to his bed, laying her down as he crawled on top of her.

They kissed again, tugging each other’s clothes off haphazardly. He pulled back, his eyes looking to see if there was any hesitation, any doubt. Upon finding none he kissed her again, his hands exploring her body.

They spent that night learning about each other’s bodies, looking over scars, finding spots that drove each other crazy. It was in the late hours of the night when the two of them were finally spent, curling around each other as they fell into a comfortable sleep.

So comfortable in fact that Billy slept through his alarm and didn’t hear his phone going off. He did, however, hear Frank burst into his apartment shouting his name.

Billy jerked awake, reaching for his knife that he kept under his pillow, brandishing it protectively in front of him and London. She woke up to the shouts, grabbing the covers, as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

“Frank. I gave you that key for EMERGENCIES. Is this an emergency?” Billy asked, anger seeping into his voice as he realize it wasn’t an intruder but his best friend.

“You’re 2 hours late for work. Won’t answer your phone or texts. Forgive me for worrying that something was wrong, ye who is a stickler for being on time,” Frank explained glancing at the woman in Billy’s bed.

“Well, as you can see I’m alive. Now, can you please… go out to the living room so we can get dressed? Pretty sure my girl would feel a bit more comfortable with something other than my bedsheets covering her,” Billy prompted him with a pointed look.

Frank raised an eyebrow at that and stepped back into the living room.

Billy returned the knife to its original place, before looking over at his soulmate.

“Sorry about that, you okay?” His voice was soft and full of concern.

“Honestly, confused as hell. But yes, I’m okay. Do all of your friends do that? Or is it really that abnormal for you to sleep in?” She asked him still not fully awake.

“Not really one for sleeping in, even if I was with a girl. Apparently, you exhausted me last night,” Billy teased her with a smirk.

“Me? You were the one who was insatiable sir,” She teased back, kissing him.

“No idea what you are talking about,” He muttered against her lips, his smirk growing.

They kissed for a few minutes, before getting out of bed. She groaned softly as she stood, feeling a bit sore in between her legs.

She could practically hear his smugness as she told him to shut it.

They dressed and stepped out of the bedroom, seeing Frank leaning against the island in the kitchen.

Introductions were made, as this was the first time Frank ever officially met her. Frank left soon after, telling Billy to be there for the 2pm meeting.

Billy waves him off, and once Billy was ready for the day, he gave London a lift home before going to work.

After that night, their relationship became much more intimate. Billy did eventually introduce her to all of his friends, and she did the same. It felt strange to be in a relationship. A good kind of strange. Especially when she would still write little dumb jokes on her arms for him to see after a meeting.

Several months passed and before he knew it a year was coming up. However, he had no anxiety about it, since she had already informed him that she wasn’t leaving, not unless he came with. As the end of her lease came up, he asked her a semi-important question.

“Do you want to move in with me? We could… get a bigger place together. Maybe find a place where you can create your own darkroom instead of having to-” His sentence was cutoff by her suddenly kissing him.

When she pulled away he asked, “I take it that’s a yes?”

She nodded her head enthusiastically, kissing him again.

If someone told him a year ago that he would one day be moving into a townhouse with his soulmate, he would say they were crazy. Completely out of their minds.

Here he was though, moving into a 3-bedroom townhouse, with a beautiful woman who made him genuinely laugh and felt loved.

‘Well. That’s one tough question down. Here’s to hoping she’ll say yes to the next big question I ask her.’

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #bbficexchange2021

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huebris808 · 3 years

Text

Dr. Hofnarr’s Horrible, No-Good, Very Weird 15 Years Of Being Dead.

a tribute to fanon interpretations/character study(?) that was going to be a bonus chapter in a post-canon/au comedy fic im working on! might come back to expand on this when i do start posting it (or if mpn gives him more background story lore that i’ll have to work with aoAHGHOAUGH)

happy madness day! :o)

“Where should I begin… Perhaps at the very beginning? OH! Christoff and I first met years before our Nexus days! Back in our freshman years of college, to be precise! You know, I was actually a theater major before switching to- ... A-Aah, too far back. Much too far... Let’s start from the point where the notes I supplied to you ended then, shall we? After our dissension...”

.. “Good luck, old friend...” ..

The first years on the run from Nexus was stressful to say the least. Hofnarr and Christoff had split up to better their chances of survival. He knew the process would be grueling, having talked to Christoff almost every night about it to calm his nerves. While he played calm for the cameras, Hofnarr truly wished he could have held him close one last time. No communications. No physical contact. Day after day, month after month, nothing. He would be separated from his husband for a very long time…

It wasn’t all bad after a while. He had a comfortable new apartment, went under a new alias, and his questionable new job paid him enough to buy food. His apartment even had cable! He could watch marathons of Slaughter Time whenever he got home! In hindsight, he wondered if that had an effect on his mental state at the time...

Hofnarr had taken the last of his S3LF regulator with him, having shipped them out to an undisclosed location prior to dissension. Dissonance exposure did a number on him and his research team, leaving them to track their “normality” through daily blood tests and injections. While they met their fates early on, Hofnarr had gotten lucky. That is, until the doses began to run out.

Stressful as it was, he knew what he had to do. Hofnarr rushed back to what remained of the labs, knowing it had been abandoned by now. It was ironic, he and Christoff’s work, the work that was turned against them, was the one thing keeping him alive. For days, he worked to make more doses from the materials he brought with him. But there was only so much he could do with limited supplies… Hofnarr made many attempts to prolong the inevitable, lowering his dosage amount, injecting it weekly rather than daily, but he eventually ran dry.

Refusing to turn to darker alternatives, he felt the only thing he could do at this point is record his final findings through video logs.

“It was… interesting revisiting the footage, to put it nicely. Christoff had actually kept the video files on a drive after he originally found all my things in the lab! I barely remembered what happened back then, so I rewatched them out of curiosity.”

On the first night, Hofnarr recorded a message for Christoff. One filled with sorrow, but also with gratitude. For the time that they spent together. How special he made him feel. All the memories they made together...

On the next, he recorded a log detailing his findings during Project Nexus. The effects of dissonance, the Other Place, what it did to him and his colleagues, everything and anything he could.

The next, he reported on the progression of his symptoms. Fever, brain fog, insomnia, joint pain. He felt like his organs were melting, his skin bursting at the seams.

The next night he saw something and remembered. Scars. The scars on his head. That week he was in the staff hospital. He thought it was a dream but the scars were there. Phobos. Director Phobos brought him somewhere that week. He knew he felt off when he woke up in the office that night. He knew something was off when Christoff asked him where he was. He thought he passed out from over-working. That bastard Phobos. Nausea was replaced with rage as he began to scream, his throat becoming raw. What did he put in him? What the hell did he put inside him!?

On the last recorded log, he was face-down on the ground. Groaning as his body occasionally convulsed. Until the video feed eventually cut off.

His body would lay there dormant, dead, for fifteen years.

But to Hofnarr, he felt like he was dreaming.

.. “LET’S GIVE IT UP FOR OUR NEXT CONTESTANT!” ..

“Huh?” The doctor sat up and looked around, the area around him pitch black. Wasn’t he sleeping just a moment ago? He got up and took a step forward in the seemingly endless void. “H-Hello? Who’s out there?”

“AWW, DON’T BE SHY NOW! ESTEEMED AUDIENCE, A BIG ROUND OF APPLAUSE FOR OUR GUEST; THE UNFORTUNATE DOCTOR HOFNARR!”

A light shined down on him from above. A crowd seemingly began to cheer all around him. He was in the center of what looked like a talk show set. Hofnarr awkwardly scratched the corner of his face. “‘Unfortunate’? W-What do you mean? W-Who are you?”

“FIGHT FIRST, ASK QUESTIONS LATER!” The voice above him called out again. “AFTER ALL, IT’S…!” Hofnarr drowned out the noise while trying to think. It sounded familiar. Like it came from…

Hofnarr’s thoughts were cut short. He looked down at his torso. Terror set in as he recognized an entire stop sign had been lodged through his chest.

“DON’T GET COLD FEET NOW! THE SHOW’S ONLY JUST BEGUN!”

The words echoed in Hofnarr’s mind as he frantically tried to pull it out, his vision growing muddled, his hands slipping with blood until…

He blinked.

No stage. No sound. No pain.

Nothing around except for a single white door in front of him.

He stood up again, cautiously reaching for the doorknob.

When he entered he seemed to be in a vintage styled home. It was a kitchen with checkerboard flooring, a table with two chairs, and cheerful music playing through a small radio. It smelled of pastry and medical equipment. Suddenly, there was a knock coming from the door. A familiar voice called from behind it.

“I’m home, dear.” “J-Jeb?!”

Hofnarr rushed towards the front door. Christoff wasn’t trapped here too, was he? “Jeb! W-where are we!? What is this place? What happened to-”

As he opened the door, the clapping returned.

His husband was there, briefcase in hand, his face replaced with a black hole dripping with an unknown inky substance.

He slowly began to back away as “Jeb” moved closer.

The applause, the laughter, was deafening.

Before he could question or run away, Hofnarr was hit by something. His vision blurred, but refocused to be face-to-face with something. It seemed to be a shadow of himself. He tried to run again, but was pinned down by his doppelganger. The clone raised a clawed hand above him and then...

Like waking from a nightmare, Hofnarr quickly sat up once again. He gasped for air, dripping with cold sweat.

Was this really happening? Was it finally over? Was he free?

And then the spotlight focused on him again.

“It… got very surreal. Despite fight after fight, death after painful death... I would suddenly be somewhere else! There was a gameshow, our old apartment, a cat cafe, a... strip club of sorts, a tea room filled with these small armless doodles I used to draw on my research notes trying to offer me snacks… One time there was a sort of singing contest, but I won’t bore you with the details of that one. But when I wasn’t in those places, I felt like I was fighting for my life. It felt like an eternity! And the strangest part of it all? It… it became addicting.”

At first, he felt as if Hofnarr used all of his energy, physical and emotional, to fight back. It reminded him too much of his escape from Nexus. But as time went on, he focused less on escaping and more on surviving. The more he fought, the more he began to lose himself. He was anticipating what sudden whiplash of combat would be thrown at him next. He chuckled at the thought of what excitement would be heading his way. He wanted more. The fights became too slow. Too predictable. Too boring. He began toying with whatever was thrown at him. Turning his shadowy hunters into the hunted. Why let his audience watch the same old fights all the time?

Suddenly, the fighting stopped.

Why?

He was having fun, wasn’t he? He grew impatient.

“WHAT’S THE HOLD UP!” He yelled into the void, seething with anger. “AREN’T WE SUPPOSED TO BE FIGHTING? ISN’T THAT WHAT I’M HERE FOR?!”

He stomped his foot down, lodging something out of the ground.

The stop sign.

He looked over it curiously. How familiar…

Grabbing hold of it, quick flashes of memories appeared to him.

Nexus, the Science Tower, Phobos, the Other Place…

A man with long hair standing next to...

Hofnarr…

Who was that? Was that him?

No…

Only Tricky remained.

Footsteps echoed throughout the halls of the abandoned lab. Heels quickly clicking, cautiously stopping every so often. A lone Nexus Core agent entered through one of the doors.

Perfect timing.

“HAY! YOU THERE!!” A voice stuttered and glitched out, reverberating through the emptiness of the lab. The quickly soldier whipped their head around. “YEAH! YOU, STUPID. PLAY WITH ME!!”

“Who’s there?” The agent pointed their magnum towards the noise. “Show yourself!”

Gladly. The cackling figure emerged from the shadows, posing with a peace-sign, causing the agent to recoil. He grinned, slowly moving towards the cowering goon on the ground. They wouldn’t stand a chance.

“Who are you!?”

They couldn’t kill him.

“FIGHT FIRST. ASK QUESTIONS LATER! AFTER ALL…”

CAN’T KILL CLOWN.

“IT’S MURDER TIME!”

“My body had been there, regenerating and repeating the enmeshment process for years. And by the time I woke up, I was a completely different person. I became a creature of unfiltered impulse… A personification of chaos itself.”

The room grew silent before Hofnarr spoke up again.

“I-Is it horrible to say it was… kind of cool?” He said with a nervous chuckle, twiddling his fingers.

2BDamned was quiet for a moment. They recalled the many times they had to stitch their comrades back together due to Clown Moments. They placed their head in their palms and let out a sigh.

“... You have the right to your own opinion.”

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

BONUS: songs i was listening to on loop while working on this instead of doing my damned writing assignment. Enjoy

lady gaga ft. dorian electra - replay

vestik - tricky's vengeance ft. monocronic

#madness combat #Madness Project Nexus #Dr. Hofnarr #Tricky the Clown #MY WORKS #MY FIC #happy madness day these old dudes are gay. [Vine Boom] gay as hell. [Vine B

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thetransguard-archive · 4 years

Note

couldnt find the promt posts but: joenicky monster/supernatural au? i absolutely adore ur writing btw💕

you cannot hand me the word supernatural and not expect me to think of buzzfeed unsolved RGEHFBRWFHKJL im sorry this turned into a ghost hunter’s au i just don’t know how to write vampires or werewolves or whatever else constitutes supernatural

nicky does not believe in ghosts.

so why is he standing in front of a long-abandoned house, carrying several hundred dollars worth of largely useless equipment, wearing a shirt emblazoned with a big cartoon ghost? he tells himself it’s a favour being returned. his room mate, lykon, is endlessly more enthusiastic then he is, mumbling to himself as he fiddles with the camera that was paid with money that probably should’ve gone to rent.

“don’t look so worried nicky,” lykon says, as they step inside the threshold. his best friend flashes him a wide grin which is immediately contradicted by the alarming creak of the floorboard under his foot. “we’ve got holy water and everything else. we’ll just check to see if there are any ghoulies in here, they can’t hurt us.”

“you know i think this is a load of horseshit. i’m more worried about the house collapsing on our heads.”

“don’t be dramatic, dude. it’s in perfectly good shape.”

as they start setting up lights, laying out their sleeping bags for preparation of sleeping the night in this place, nicky is forced to admit there’s a sort of melancholy beauty to the place. it would have been a very nice house, once, not too ostentatious like the other houses they’ve “investigated”, with high ceilings and large windows, and stunning art covering the walls. landscapes, bowls of fruit, studies of fire and light and the night sky. but not a single person. nicky notices the same sprawling signature on all of the art, and steps closer to see if he can make out a name-

“nicky! let’s start recording.”

lykon begins unrolling the backstory of this house and the ghost allegedly haunting it, and nicky interjects throughout, punctuating the otherwise dead serious narrative with bursts of skepticism and humour, the way they’ve always done. lykon’s little ghost hunting channel is small now but getting bigger every day, and nicky can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it, verbally sparring with his best friend. lykon’s a believer and nicky isn’t, and while they’ll argue fiercely on camera they agree in pretty much every way off screen. apparently this house used to be home to an artist who’d been slowly making his way up in the art world before being murdered mysteriously. with no convictions, the story went that people were compelled to stay away from the house, wouldn’t be able to write without doodling, and smell fresh paint. also the standard doors opening and closing on their own, lights turning on and off, footsteps and the like. nicky was not exactly enthused to spend a night on the dusty floor, but hey. it beat sitting on the couch watching reruns of the same bland reality tv shows.

nicky’s halfway through a longwinded joke when lykon jolts like he’s been zapped, hand gripping nicky’s forearm, eyes darting around in sudden fear.

“what? dude, let go.” he elbows lykon in the ribs gently to get his attention back. “hello? what happened.”

“swear i heard a laugh, from upstairs, maybe,” he replies, face furrowed in concentration. he flashes a smile at the camera. “alright, i think we got all the background done. lets investigate.”

predictably, they find nothing. well, nothing of worth to nicky, but lykon insists that the room that used to be the studio feels colder then the rest of the house, they hear noises from inside the room once they leave it, and the spirit box spits up a few noises that lykon insists are words. a pretty standard investigation, then. they pack up their stuff and tuck in for the night. lykon spends half of it jumping at every little noise, but eventually drifts off as the exhaustion of the drive here finally gets to him. nicky turns over in his sleeping bag, hoping to salvage at least a few hours of rest from the night, but-

is that paint?

nicky breathes in as hard as he can, and it’s unmistakeable, that scent of chemicals that reminds him very vividly of the disaster that was year seven art class. he sits up, rubs his eyes. lykon doesn’t stir and nicky sniffs again. it’s still clear and strong, and now that his ear isnt pressed against the pillow, he can hear faint clattering, like the lid of a paint tin being wedged off. it’s coming from upstairs, where the artist’s studio would be, if he had to guess.

oh, fuck.

there’s a perfectly rational explanation for this, he reasons to himself, even as he crawls out of the sleeping bag to cram on some shoes and get a torch and a camera. he should probably wake up lykon, but something inside him is telling him, wait, to just see for himself first. maybe we disturbed the paint when we were in there earlier. an old house like this, it’s probably just settling. hell, there’s probably raccoons in the roof, or something. ghosts aren’t real.

the studio is... not how they had left it. it had been such a sad space, everything covered up in white sheets, shelves of paints covered in dust. now, the room is strangely warm, like the summer sun had spent a few hours streaming in through windows that were now uncovered, the night visible through dusty panes of glasses. there is an easel set up, with an empty, clean canvas about the size of a dinner table on it. and on the floor, a thin, fine paintbrush rocks back and forth, like it had just been dropped.

this was entirely too much weirdness for nicky’s brain to handle, but he wasn’t giving up on his hard line stance on ghosts just yet. strangely enough, he doesn’t really feel afraid at all.

“if this is a prank,” he says, deliberately loud in the empty room, as he bends to pick up the paintbrush. the tip of it is still wet, and the paint looks black on his fingertips. “if this is a joke, lykon, i swear-”

hi, nicky.

the words appear abruptly on the canvas, a rushed hand like whoever’s writing isn’t sure if they can keep it going. nicky almost drops the paintbrush he’s holding, but steps closer. the paint is still wet on the canvas, and it’s the same dark shade as the stuff on the brush. he shines his torch at it. it’s a very dark blue, not a black like he’d first assumed, the colour of a twilight sea.

“what the fuck,” he mumbles to himself, touching the canvas. it’s just fabric on wood. what the fuck.

did i scare you? i didn’t want to do that.

"i’m not scared,” he says, feeling oddly giddy. “this is a very strange dream.”

i promise it’s not a dream. tah-dah! ghosts are real. i am one of them.

as whoever it is writes, they doodle around their letters with incredible skill, little birds and flowers and suns circling their words. it’s strangely endearing. the paint smell gets stronger and nicky finds that he does not mind.

“what’s your name?” he asks, remembering that he is technically a ghost investigator and he should probably be doing some investigation. his phone is left forgotten in his pocket, though. he doesn’t know if he should be recording this or not.

joe, joseph, but it’s yusuf, really. the art world of my time was not quite ready for a name like mine, but i suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.

“you’re the artist, then.”

who else would i be? as far as i can tell i am the first, last and only death of this house.

“you were murdered.”

yes, but can we not talk about that? it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

the last full stop of yusuf’s sentence is darker then normal, like he’s pressed harder. nicky touches a finger to the canvas.

“i’m sorry. i won’t bring it up again.”

thank you.

nicky takes a step back, the room is lightening around him. he hadn’t realised it earlier, but the windows of this room all face east, which is why he supposes yusuf chose it to be his studio. on some level, a part of him is wondering why he isn’t screaming and running to get lykon right now. he really isn’t afraid, though. yusuf hasn’t meant him any harm.

“why did you choose to talk to me? we were up here earlier.”

it’s harder when more alive people are in my room. you take up so much energy. the handwriting pauses, like yusuf is considering. and most people are so afraid. i’ve tried talking to others before, but they get so scared. you didn’t seem frightened at all.

“that’s because i didn’t believe in any of this stuff.” nicky presses a finger to yusuf’s words, just to check. his finger comes away dark blue. “part of me still think i’m dreaming, though.”

well, you can’t see reflections in dreams, i’ve heard. there’s a mirror behind you.

nicky turns to see a sheet drop off a large standing mirror in an ornate frame, and sure enough, he can see his face, a pale shape in the darkness of the room. he steps closer, and skids a finger over the glass, leaving a smear of paint behind. not a dream, then.

he feels a gust of air, warm, behind him and he turns. nothing but the canvas. when he turns back, that’s when he sees him.

he’s about the same height and build of nicky, standing just behind him and to the side. handsome, a full beard and a rueful smile and curls, and eyes that are the kindest nicky has ever seen. and the most startling thing- he is opaque. his head and shoulders are more or less solid, but his torso peters out into nothing at all.

“ghosts are real,” he says, to the spectre in the mirror, dumbfounded, and yusuf’s half-smile widens to a proper grin. he does a little wave in the mirror and something in nicky’s chest swells. he smiles back.

“your friend downstairs is waking up.” a breath, barely a whisper in his ear. and sure enough, noises from below. he can almost hear the sound of his name.

“i won’t tell him about you, if you don’t want me to,” he says, and yusuf shrugs, flickering.

“i don’t mind, but i'd rather you not. the more people come in here, the harder it is to... exist.”

nicky can hear footsteps on the stairs now, and he blurts out, quickly, before this bizarre moment is over, before he is thrust back into the mundane of his normal life. “we’re leaving now. can i come back, sometime?” and the thing is, he really wants to, wants to know this strange, sad ghost with messy handwriting and beautiful art, and kind, kind eyes. he has so many questions. what’s it like, being a ghost? are you lonely in this house? and, why do you not have any paintings of people? yusuf meets his eyes in the mirror and smiles again.

“i’d like that.”

“nicky!” the door opens and nicky blinks, his hands dropping to his sides. lykon sweeps his gaze around the room looks at him with a raised eyebrow. the canvas, nicky is stunned to realise, is now as clean and blank as when he’d walked in.

“c’mon man, you know we’re not allowed to mess with this stuff.” lykon steps forwards and plucks the paintbrush out of his hand, the tip still wet with paint, and sets it on the easel. “you said it yourself, nothing in here now. we’ve gotta get going.”

“sì, of course. i was just... looking around. it’s a beautiful room.”

his room mate just gives him a look. “uh okay. whatever, man. let’s go.”

before nicky leaves, he picks the paintbrush back up again, tucks it into his pocket. says to the empty room, slowly filling with light and colour from the rising sun, “i’ll be back, yusuf, i promise.”

the faint ghost of laughter as he walks out feels, somehow, right.

#the old guard #yusuf al kaysani #nicolo di genova #lykon #kaysanova #joe x nicky #usercacau #usershan #userlyde #userkayla #tuseradriana #anonymous #ask #reply #OOF what did i just write........... i dont know <3 #maybe i have backstory for all of them. maybe. what about it #my writing #mine #the ghost au

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selohtun20 · 4 years

Text

Coffee and kidnappings

Villain!Mic, based off of @hey-hamlet’s Wicked Coffee AU

Word count: 1777

Izuku thinks that maybe he should be more unsettled. It’s not everyday that you finally figure out that, yes, the facial hair thing is not, in fact, a coincidence, and yes, the barista at you and your teacher’s favorite coffee shop is, in fact, a villain. A pretty infamous one at that, seeing as how he’s known to deafen opponents permanently and also flirt with Eraserhead when they fight. Present Mic, the voice villain, and Yamada Hizashi, the barista who Izuku knows weirdly well by now. He’s been designated coffee guy for all of 1-A for a while now, and he knows their orders by heart, carrying them carefully back to campus so he doesn’t spill anything. Yamada (it’s easier to think of them as two people, rather than one) always perks up when he comes in, already starting on his inevitably gigantic order. Izuku usually orders ahead, but comes a little earlier to chat with Yamada if there’s no one around. He also does it to take notes, quickly typed on his phone for future reference and to be put into his analysis notebooks.

Normally, none of this would really matter. The moment Izuku finally made the connection in his brain, he should’ve turned around, walked out from the coffee shop, and ran back to Aizawa as fast as he could. But there’s a problem, which boils down to this: Aizawa actually likes Yamada. Izuku, who can’t mind his own business at the best of times, and certainly not now, figures that friendships maybe don’t come easy to his teacher, given that he almost always looks half-dead and ready to kill anyone at a moment’s notice if they get between him and coffee. He also knows that Yamada doodles little cats and paw prints on his teacher’s cup, and even if he thinks he can hide them, Izuku can see Aizawa smile at his cup when he sees it. (Aizawa’s order is the only one that changes. Yamada makes him something new almost every week, and it’s always sickeningly sweet.) Izuku, honestly and truly, would feel bad about turning Yamada in, or at least exposing his secret. He’s relatively sure Yamada wouldn’t hurt him. Then again, Izuku has a habit (a bad one, considering where his aspirations lie) of always thinking the best of people when at all possible.

He’s beginning to regret not saying anything when he gets kidnapped. There’s a bag over his head, his hands are tied, and he would probably be having a gigantic panic attack if it weren’t for the fact that he can recognize Yamada’s voice. He’s also pretty sure that Yamada kidnapped him as an excuse to see Eraserhead, which, hey, Izuku understands that he’s a pretty convenient target, but still. He’s a little annoyed that he’ll probably miss class if he doesn’t get free, like, right now. But there’s not much he can do at the moment, and he doesn’t feel like testing his theory that Yamada won’t hurt him, so he resigns himself to his fate.

Kidnapping a kid wasn’t exactly high on Mic’s priority list, sure, but it was very convenient. He was at the coffee shop, surprisingly easy to grab and tie up, and he’s in Eraserhead’s class, so really, he can’t be blamed for his actions. It’s just- well, he hasn’t seen Eraser for a week now, and he’s only seen Aizawa once. He misses him, as much as he doesn’t really want to admit it, so kidnapping Midoriya makes sense on that level. Plus, they haven’t spent any substantial time together, so it’s as good an excuse as any to write up a ransom note, email it with a disposable email to Eraser, and wait.

Mic wasn’t counting on the fact that, apparently, Midoriya doesn’t fear death. He expected the kid to be scared, to fight back, to scream or do- something, at least. Instead, he just sort of sits there, and when Mic takes the bag off his head, the kid smiles at him, bright and it’s almost blinding. “Hi there Mr. Yamada!” “I- wait, what?” Mic blinks several times in shock. “The facial hair is a dead giveaway. Also, did you kidnap me to see Eraser, or…?” “Uh, well, yes? I wasn’t expecting you to figure out it was me, but uh, I wrote your teacher a ransom note, hopefully he’ll look at his emails soon…” Midoriya cocks his head, frowns for a second, then smiles again. “Well, why don’t I call him? It’s much faster than waiting for him to find a note!” Mic can’t do much else but nod, and he unties the kid (he can take a kid, no problem. Probably.) before grabbing Midoriya’s phone and throwing it to him. The kid catches it on instinct, and quickly pulls up his teacher’s contact while Mic has a personal crisis in the background. Before Eraser can pick up, Mic asks if the kid wants something to eat. He did kidnap him during lunch break, after all.

Aizawa knew something was wrong, but he wasn’t sure what it was. It prickled under his skin, an uncomfortable sensation that left him on edge. It was lunch break, and normally he’d be asleep right now. But the dread pooling in his gut wouldn’t let him, and he resigned himself to worry until he figured out what was really wrong. Before he could gather himself up to go grade, he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. An email. From someone he’d never heard of, with the subject being “ransom note: Hi Eraser!!!!!”. Great.

The note itself is clearly from Present Mic, seeing as how it uses far too many exclamation points to be written by any rational human being. It’s also a little unclear as to what, exactly, he’s demanding, other than the fact that he only wants Aizawa to come in, no one else. Before he can read into it much further, his cellphone rings. He answers on instinct. “Hello?” “Hi sensei! I got kidnapped by Mr- ah, I mean Present Mic! He’s making lunch for me!” “He’s what? Where are you, problem child?” Aizawa starts to panic, because, yes, Midoryia sounds fine, but there's also the possibility that Mic is threatening him, and while Present Mic doesn't usually hurt kids, this is one of Aizawa's kids. He doesn't hate Mic, not really, but he wouldn't hesitate to strangle the man if there's a hair out of place on the problem child's head when he gets there. “He’s making me lunch! And, I’m not sure sensei! Hold on- '' There's a rustling sound, and Aizawa can hear Midoriya ask something, and Mic’s answer in return. “We’re at a warehouse in the dock district! And-“ Aizawa hears Mic’s voice again in the background. “Oh yeah, he told me to tell you not to bring anyone else, or he’ll make me deaf!” “Did he drug you? Why are you so calm? I’ll be there as soon as I can, just-“ “I don’t think he drugged me? I’ll see you soon sensei!” With that, the problem child hangs up the phone, leaving Aizawa to sprint towards the main campus gates.

“You’re a pretty good cook, Mr. Yamada!” “Thanks kid! Hopefully Eraser will show up soon too!” Izuku grins, taking another bite. They finish their lunches, both talking at rapid speeds about anything and everything, until Izuku feels his phone vibrate. “Oh! He’s here! I’ll make us tea!” With that, he busies himself with a kettle, getting out cups. As they wait for the water to boil, the door gets kicked in, and Aizawa sprints in, ready to fight. “Hi sensei! I’m making tea!” He waves at his teacher, grabbing tea bags and generally keeping his hands busy. While neither adult is looking, he pulls his phone out and sends a Snap to Shinsou, and manages to get one of his teacher and the villain, and adds it to his story. His phone is buzzing like crazy with texts, and he carefully silences it, just as the kettle whistles. He pours the water into the cups, and brings two over to the small table set up in the warehouse. (He’s not entirely sure how all this stuff got in here. He’s betting it might be a secret base for Present Mic, seeing as how there appears to be food and Izuku is pretty sure there was a first aid kit somewhere, but he’s not entirely sure yet-) “You’re mumbling, problem child.” “Oh. W-whoops. Anyway, Mic! You wanna tell sensei why you kidnapped me?” Izuku sets the cups down, and goes back to the counter to drink his own tea, snickering to himself as he gets ready to record.

“GUYS! HE’S OKAY, SENSEI IS THERE!” The entire class 1-A crowds around Ochako, and she holds the phone so more people can see. It’s a video of Aizawa and Present Mic, drinking tea. The camera shakes a little, and the class can hear Izuku giggling softly. “Let me get this straight: you kidnapped one of my students, left me a ransom note, THREATENED TO DEAFEN HIM, because you wanted to see me?” Aizawa sounds furious, but it's hard to tell from a video, and Izuku is recording so Ochako doubts he's hurt. “Well, when you put it like that, it sounds so awful Eraser!” Present Mic puts a hand to his chest, sounding offended. "Did you drug him? Why is he so calm?” Aizawa’s voice is sharp, and Ochako can’t really see his face too well, but she’s sure he’s glaring at the villain. I didn’t, I swear! I would never drug a kid!” “You’d just kidnap one?” “I- well, yes. But I didn’t drug him, so that’s one point towards me!” Aizawa puts his head in his hands, shaking it softly, and Izuku giggles more. “Why aren’t you afraid, kid?” “He’s right, problem child. He did kidnap you.” Izuku giggles even more, much to the adults’ surprise. “Bold of you to assume I feel fear, sensei! Can I go back to U.A. now? I don’t want to miss class.” At his nonchalant voice, Bakugou bursts out laughing, cackling like a madman. Iida looks like he’s on the verge of a heart attack, and Shinsou is blinking at the video like he can’t believe what he’s really seeing. The rest of the class is caught between worry for their classmate and holding in their laughter, partially at Izuku’s comment and partially at Bakugou’s laughter, which is hilarious in and of itself. “Oh wait, before we go, can we get a selfie together Mic?" “... you know what, sure kid. I don’t think this day could get much weirder.”

#bnha #bnha fanfiction #bnha writing #villain!mic #wicked coffee au

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maiden-of-wolves · 4 years

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My brain’s a strange place.

Sometimes I apparently create AU’s within AU’s with my own OC’s.

Have a drabble along with this doodle with Ariel Grace & Issac Trevelyan.

Issac knew there would be a lot of new things for him to find outside the Ostwick Circle, but he never realized just how vast the world was. How magic could be used in ways that he'd never been instructed. How it was good, when you came right down to it, so long as you had control over it. And if the Circle had taught Issac anything, it was control. Never allowing a fire to get out of hand, either by your own calling on the Fade or by putting it out with magic or by 'normal' means. He always remembered that: the Templars called anything not magical 'normal' out of habit. He knew what that meant: magic, by its nature, by its very existence... was abnormal.

Still, out here, as 'The Herald' now somehow, Issac made sure he used any opportunity to show how magic could be a good thing. Helping the clinic manage the ill; helping the cooks and storehands smoke meat or freeze long term stores so they would last even longer; healing small injuries that those training in melee combat sustained (when the recruits allowed it - some still blamed all magic for The Breach and wanted nothing to do with it). It was with one such small act of kindness to spread the goodness that magic could do that he encountered a particularly interesting new concept.

"Don't," she said, her voice soft but urgent as how fast her hand came up to grasp the wrist of the hand he was going to use to heal the cut on her palm.

"Do you not trust magic? I pro-"

She shook her head. "I would love the help, but it doesn't work."

Issac made no secret of his confusion and shock. "What do you mean 'it doesn't work?"

She carefully pushed away his magic-infused hand before extricating her wounded hand from his own grip. "It doesn't work as intended is a better way to put it, I guess."

He still was at a loss and made no attempt to school his completely baffled expression. None of the curses he had come across would prevent healing magic from working - some particularly nasty ones might make the healing feel painful rather than easing the pain... but that was it. This woman couldn’t be healed? He had no idea what she could mean by ‘it doesn’t work as intended’.

"I... absorb magic that's used on me," the woman attempted to explain. "At least, that's how Solas described it to me. If I have too much, I either get sick until I properly expel it though what most people would see as ‘blood magic’ or I find some way to channel it out immediately. Either way, healing magic doesn't heal me. It just adds to my overload."

"Fascinating, if true," Issac remarked, still wide-eyed and stunned but feeling as it he had to at least say that much.

She shrugged her shoulders. "Ask Solas if you don't believe me. I assume you'll believe him."

As much as he knew Solas was a very accomplished mage, Issac found himself far more curious than simply asking him about it would sate. "I would rather have a demonstration, if you're willing..."

She stared at him for a few long moments before heaving a sigh he would have expected to hear in an Orlesian drama. Were it in any other situation, he might have had to stifle a laugh. "Normally I wouldn't, but since you're The Herald and all..." She held up her injured hand, bleeding palm facing him before staring him down yet again. "Go ahead. Try and heal it."

Issac hesitated, despite him being the one to ask for this, but eventually did as she asked. The moment he began trying to concentrate on healing her wound, he couldn't feel her injury or even her skin. Instead, he was met with a sensation that was not unlike when a rival mage or a demon tried to syphon away his life or mana. It wasn't a persistant tug, however, as he would have expected from such an attack, rather it ebbed and flowed with his own effort. It completely made sense for what she had said: she was simply absorbing any mana he put into her. The woman stiffened as he worked, eyes shutting tight as if she were in pain but making no noise to indicate such.

"Absolutely facin-"

He was cut off, however, as a glow that flickered as if it were lightning jumped across her skin from her injury to her other hand. It was a good thing her other hand's fingers were pointing towards the ground as a loud crack of lightning snapped into it. The action appeared as if she'd cast lightning bolt... yet, in a manner that was only acting as conduit rather than controlling it. Letting the energy move from strongest to weakest level of mana like a river would move from highest concentration of water to least simply by nature.

There was a long few moments of silence, several passersby staring at the woman from what she'd just done. Whispers of 'mage' and 'apostate?' even 'spirit' were tossed around but Issac paid them little head.

In the meantime, she wandered a little ways away to 'borrow' a cloth wrap so she could finally bind her wound.

Once his mind had tamed the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind into understandable questions, they burst forth like a dam.

"Have you always been able to do that? Were you ever in a Circle? Did they try and make you Tranquil for this?"

"Hey,” she interrupted. “if you're going to ask for my life story, you might want to start with my name?" she suggested, looking back at him with what he could have sworn was an amused expression.

"Oh. Yes,” Issac said, stopping himself rather awkwardly. He cleared his throat as he tried to gather his thoughts enough to speak of much more mundane subjects than the intensely fascinating ability this woman possessed. “You know mine I suppose-"

"Yes, Issac Trevelyan," she interrupted again. "Or do you prefer your new title?"

"No, please. Do call me Issac."

She nodded in acquiescence.

"And yours?" he coaxed.

"Ariel."

"Just... Ariel?"

"Grace will work for the family name, I guess."

"Lady Grace, that was-"

"Ariel," she corrected him.

He expressed a bit of concern at that, lips pursing slightly as his brows curved while he thought it over. "Yes, alright. Ariel," he relented. Issac opened his mouth to ask more questions, but she walked past him.

"I'm sure your questions will take a long time to answer, so how about we at least get something to eat and drink at the tavern? Your treat."

"Y-yes, that does sound reasonable..." he sounded a bit defeated but he followed with little hesitation as Ariel lead the way to The Singing Maiden.

#3x5->15 excersize #daily doodle #daily drabble #OC's #Ariel Grace #Issac Trevelyan #my OC's #romance? Maybe #I'm not sure #at least friends #the dorky nerd squad #queue it up

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kurly-quill · 6 years

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Hiya, hon! Ask, and you shall recieve <3 (when I get off my ass anyway)

Robin’s Nest Cafe Part 2

Pairings: DickTim, JayDick, JayTim, future JayDickTim

Rating: Mature for Language

Coffee Shop AU (sort of), Civilian!Tim (mostly?) Part 1 - Part 2

(2) The Nest

In the past four years or so, it became a well-kept secret in East End, that if you ever needed a safe place to shut your eyes, you might find it at The Nest. They don’t take names. They don’t ask any questions, and will take in anyone of any age. You’ll get a clean room, with a clean bed, and a square meal. Rumor even has it that folks sometimes leave The Nest with things like new job prospects or that last refill of medication you couldn’t afford in your pocket.

It’s not a long-term arrangement, but it helps when the winter rolls in and you don’t want to freeze to death.

The shop is quiet. But then, it’s never particularly busy either. Like, ever. She spends more time practicing her latte art than taking orders (“You’ll never get paid to doodle cats, young lady!” they used to tell her in high school. Well joke’s on you, Ms. Maximoff)

Tim is standing beside her at the counter, carefully wiping down the espresso machine like it’s his baby -- kind of accurate, since the only thing he loves more than that machine is her, obviously. Maybe. He better, anyway, if he knows what’s good for him.

It’s midway through her shift. Idly, she stacks the little espresso cups into a pyramid, knowing that Tim is silently judging her for it (“You realise we can’t use the cups now that you’ve touched all of them, right?” “So narrow-minded, Timmy. We can definitely use them for shots later!”).

Like Tim can’t afford the cups or something. But, appearances are still important for a place like this, she supposes. Barely getting by, but passed the health inspection! - that’s the look they’re apparently going for to the public eye. She gets it. Robin’s Nest cafe isn’t supposed to be high profile, or else The Nest loses its purpose. She flicks at her tower of espresso cups, leaning over the counter with her chin propped up on her hand, musing.

She thinks of a few years ago, remembers being at the end of her rope. How she had been ignoring the rumors about The Nest, passing them off as bullshit, until a cold front hit Gotham so hard it even had the Gotham-grade criminals running for cover. She remembers finally caving to the rumors, looking across the street at Robin’s Nest, brightly lit compared to the sorry excuses for street lamps that lined the sidewalk. Shivering, blue-lipped. All of the closest shelters were full, and the last time she’d slept in one, she’d woken up to a man reaching under her sheets, so like hell was she going back to one if she had other options.

She remembers her vow to herself-- that whatever happened, she wasn’t going back home. She would have frozen in an alleyway somewhere before that happened.

She remembers jaywalking across the icy street to the sidewalk just outside the shop window. But, as soon as she had gotten there, had taken a better look at the interior, she’d hesitated. A sort of hipster-industrial look with some hodge-podge, DIY-esque decor that’s not too shiny and clean and just worn enough to seem lived-in and welcoming-- It was that last part, of all things, that had made her clam up inside. Made her turn around to find some alleyway to go lose some toes in.

She probably would have, she muses, wiggling her toes around in her Adidas, if Tim hadn’t caught her just as she went to turn around the corner of the block. He’d ran out of the shop in nothing but a long-sleeve “World’s Okayest Barista” shirt, skinny jeans, and converse, all messy dark hair and pale blue eyes, and he had looked about three seconds from turning into an icicle. But in his hand, had been a drink.

“What d’you want,” she demands, defenses up on autopilot.

The barista fairly skids to a stop on the icy sidewalk, breath coming in visible plumes. The drink is shoved in her face-- she can see that it’s piping hot, and she’s suddenly acutely aware of how her nose and lips ache with cold.

“Take it. It’s hot chocolate.”

“Wow,” she deadpans, quirking a brow, “this is, like, a classic case of stranger danger.”

She notes how hard the barista is beginning to shiver, and wondered if he’s just an idiot for running after a homeless person on the wrong side of Gotham in ass-degree-and-dropping temperatures. (And in that getup, too, that screams: “please, oh please, ma’am, rob me, I’m a little nerdboy!” She could do it, probably, if she really wanted to.)

The barista grins sheepishly at her, shrugging.

“Okay, fair. I can make you another one back at the shop and you can watch me to make sure it’s safe to drink, if it makes you feel better.” She blinks at him. An idiot, definitely.

“Hate to break it to you, dude, but I’m broke.”

The barista holds up one finger. He fishes around in his pocket, pulls out his wallet (an open invitation to snatch it, that), and tugs out a little card. He holds it out to her, and she watches him carefully before taking it and reading-- she frowns. Flips the card over. The little card is small and sleek-- heavier than paper, PVC?-- and has a single bird-like symbol on the front. The back only reads:

For One - Redeemable at The Nest

“It’s a coupon.”

She swallows. No way.

“For a drink?”

The barista tucks his hands into his pockets. She wonders if he’s doing it because he thinks it looks cool or if it’s because he’s lost feeling in his hands. When she meets his eyes again, though, she’s distracted by how they sharpen with focus, flashing with a secret.

“Sure,” he concedes, shrugging again, “Or a room, if you want it. On the house.”

She blinks at him once. Twice. “You’re fucking nuts, aren’t you?”

The barista lets out a startled laugh, one hand coming up to cover his mouth. It shouldn’t be cute, and she really shouldn’t go there, but there it is. She’s officially the type to be charmed by dorky, early 2000s, sk8er boi aesthetic.

“Jury’s still out.”, then holds out a hand that’s white with cold, “I’m Tim.”

She notices that he doesn’t ask for her name, and she thinks over whether she should even tell him. After all, she’s only about 85% sure the guy’s not batshit crazy. But then, she’s probably in good company.

Oh, what the hell, she thinks, letting herself smile back at him. She takes his hand, and can’t even feel it with how numb her fingers are.

“Well, it’s Gotham, so crazy’s just the status quo around here. Also, name’s Stephanie,” she pauses and adds, more quietly, “And I think I’ll take you up on that room”

Tim shakes their hands minutely, and the movement has pinpricks of pain shooting up to her elbow, but already she somehow feels warmer.

“Oh, thank God,” he sighs, relieved, already turning to walk back towards the cafe, “I can officially no longer feel my ass. I barely had one to begin with. Please, let’s go inside.”

And, despite how cold she is, and how she aches, and how absolutely, completely shitty her life is right now, she bursts out laughing, nearly doubling over. It’s a miracle that she doesn’t fall over, considering she can’t feel her legs.

“I feel that. Not so much the last part though. My ass is great,” she snickers, trying to regain her composure. She sidles up just behind Tim’s shoulder to follow him back down the block.

“But, hey, you know, I’ll still take you up on that hot chocolate if you’re still offering.”

“I think I can manage that.”

She’s jarred from her reminiscing by the bell above the shop door. In an instant, she’s baring her teeth in the default hello, I work in food service, so please don’t be a prick!! smile.

“Hello!” she sings, upbeat, “Welcome to Robin’s Nest!”

Behind her, Tim’s got his back turned towards the entrance, wiping down the back counter and pointedly leaving her to do the customer servicing. She hopes he can feel her glare. Asshole.

She then turns her head and wind up locking eyes with a man in uniform. She balks.

Oh damn, says one part of her brain, because wow that’s a nicely-fit uniform.

Oh shit, says the another part of her brain, because that’s a police uniform.

Oh fuck, says the rest of her brain, because that’s Richard Grayson in a police uniform.

No, like, the fucking Richard Grayson™ .

Richard-fucking-Grayson gives her a smile that’s whiter than bleached tile floors, brighter than the goddamn sun in Metropolis. Stephanie’s missing all of her customer service cues and she will blame it entirely on that smile in the future if Robin’s Nest gets a bad review.

“Uh,” she says dumbly, standing up straight so fast she manages to knock all of her espresso cup pyramid over. She makes an aborted movement to try and stop them, realizes it’s a lost cause, so instead just stares Richard-fucking-Grayson in the face and lets them all fall in a tragic, drawn-out cacophony of noise as they clatter, one-by-one to the floor. Total power move.

The noise has Tim whirling around towards the front -- “Steph, what the-” -- but then he falls mute as he gets an eyeful of Gotham royalty in a police uniform. Yeah, same here, dude.

The silence goes on for so long that it’s become decidedly uncomfortable, so Steph tears her eyes away from glances in Tim’s direction --

And yep, that’s the creepy Tim.exe has stopped working stare of death that happens when his brain goes full-on computer mode and he forgets how to emote (It’s either because he’s worried there’s a cop in The Nest, or because Officer Grayson is just that hot. Actually, it’s probably both). Christ, he’s not even blinking-- they’ve had a talk about this, Timmy, get your shit together. “Hello! Hi!” she says, too loudly, diverting the officer’s (increasingly growing) concerned gaze back to her, “Can I take your order?”

The last cup makes a final, agonizing descent to the floor in the beat of silence that follows, while Richard Grayson blinks, a little amused but not overly surprised by the fact that he’s apparently been recognized.

“Hi,” he replies, too-bright smile back in place, “Sorry if I surprised you?” “No worries, Mr. Grayson. Just don’t usually get celebrities on this side of town,” Steph leans against the counter, falling back into her default teasing, “Just tell me you’re here cause of a good Yelp review or something, cause I plead the fifth if it’s for anything else.”

“Just call me Dick, please,” Dick chuckles, “And I just happened to be passing through. A friend told me that this place serves the best hot chocolate this side of Gotham.”

Tim twitches. “Bullshit,” Steph quips, “We serve the best hot chocolate in all of Gotham. Total, unbiased truth!”

Dick grins, “Then I guess that’s what I’m having.”

Steph smiles wide, making a show of punching the buttons on the register system, “I’ll be gentle with you, since it’s your first time -- Tim, one classic chocolate, for the man in blue!”

. . .

She looks again to her left when there’s no movement. Oh for the love of Wonder Woman--

“Tim.”

Tim snaps out of it with a visible jerk, blinking wide eyes as the past five minutes seem to play at hyperspeed through that ridiculous brain of his, and he opens his mouth.

“Right, yes. Okay. I can, that. Chocolate, sure. Hot. ” is what comes out, even as Tim’s eyes widen in horror at himself, the skin of his neck and ears beginning to flush red with embarrassment.

Steph’s jaw drops, because she’s never seen Timothy Jackson Drake lose composure like this in all three years she’s known him (not even counting that one time sex turned into a trip to the hospital that they both agreed to never speak of again). And well, she had never pegged Tim for a fanboy of all things, let alone of Dick Grayson, but there he is, moving through the motions of making his signature hot chocolate with the grace and poise of a robot chicken.

Dick, for his part, is looking at Tim in the bemused way one tends to look at a toddler that’s doing something a little bit weird but otherwise harmless. Steph is the best wing-woman ever, because she clears her throat to try and get his attention again instead of the other barista.

“Sooooo that’ll be 4.89,” Steph declares, “Will that be cash or card?”

Her tactic is thwarted -- Dick continues to look at Tim in mildly amused fascination as he digs around in his pocket before pulling out a few rumpled bills and, like, six Jolly Rancher wrappers. She tries not to judge too hard when the whole wad is pressed into her hand, even though they’re a little sticky.

She hands him his change before turning to see that Tim has finished the hot chocolate, complete with the snowflake-covered cup sleeves that Steph spent nearly three hours doodling that morning with a silver Sharpie (“Starbucks makes festive cup sleeves, Tim! We can’t be beaten by the competition!” “Why do I even pay you?”). However, Tim is just staring at the cup like it holds the solution to world peace and also this painful interaction. Steph clears her throat, and he flinches again. He slides the cup to the edge of the counter, way too slowly, like he’s thinking about it too hard, and Dick reaches for the cup in the way someone might approach a skittish animal. His hand closes around the cup and he lifts it, watching Tim’s face as he lifts it to his mouth. “Thanks,” he says with a gentle smile, but Tim steadfastly refuses to look the police officer in the eye. Arguably, this is worse, because instead he’s staring at the guy’s pecs. The barista then retreats from the counter, takes a full step back, mumbles something that was probably a “You’re welcome”.

“Well come on,” Steph interrupts, “I reserve the right to see you take the first sip.” Dick raises an eyebrow at her, teasing, “I’ll have you know that the Wayne butler makes some really great hot chocolate. It’ll be tough to beat.”

“Quit stalling and drink the liquid diabetes, Grayson.”

Without breaking eye contact with Steph, he does just that. Steph’s smirk grows when the man’s eyes grow wide.

He swallows, the flavor washing over his tongue, and looks down at his cup in amazement. Takes another drink, and groans. It’s a sound that Steph’s sure she’s heard on one of the more trashy pornos on her laptop, and knows it’s not just her mind going straight to the gutter when she sees Tim’s ears go bright red. “Wow.”

Stephanie grins, smug, “Like I said -- best hot chocolate in all of Gotham”

“I’m a believer now,” Dick says solemnly, taking another long sip. “God. Tell your management to open a store in Bludhaven -- I could single-handedly keep the business afloat if I could drink this every day.”

Steph snorts, jerking her thumb at Tim, who’s staring resolutely at the far wall.

“Tell him yourself, maybe then he’ll listen. I keep saying we should expand! If you ask me, every shithole town with a Robin running around the streets deserves Robin’s Nest to go with it.” Tim breaks his stupor to glance at Steph in a way that she’s come to learn is a warning, which she resists the urge to roll her eyes at.

Dick outright laughs. “Heh, well these days I’d say Bludhaven sees just as much of Robin as Gotham” Dick chuckles, “Might need to relocate entirely with criteria like that.”

He slides his gaze to Tim.

“Not that it’d be a bad idea to move shop. Seriously, Bludhaven has a lot of up and coming neighborhoods -- You would get more customers than you probably get in this area, and if the rest of your menu is as good as this hot chocolate, you’d be pretty popular.”

At this, Tim freezes, then turns, his face twisting into a slight frown, “Robin’s Nest belongs in Gotham,” he says, clipped, “Besides, we do just fine here.” The officer blinks, suddenly looking into sharp, ice-blue eyes that until this moment had refused to look at him.

“I’m sure you have some faithful regulars, around here,” Dick says slowly, a bit placating, “but I know Gotham pretty well, and a bit about business,” he pauses and says, not unkindly, but it nonetheless has Tim’s spine going rigid, “You’d get more revenue if you relocated down to somewhere in Midtown, even the residential areas. Why don’t you?”

Tim’s eyes flash, but nothing else gives away his irritation. Instead, he tilts his head in a curious gesture. “Well,” there’s a calm lilt to his voice as he asks, “Gotham pays its officers a higher average salary than Bludhaven. Why don’t you move?”

Dick’s jaw drops for a second at the barb, blinking. Then, his brilliant blue eyes light up with humor, and he laughs, long and loud. Even that sounds attractive, which is so unfair that Steph glares at the dangerous tilt of his take-away cup, willing it to spill on his uniform. The officer regains his composure, chuckles dying down as he regains his composure. “Woah, okay, touché then!” he acquiesces with a shrug, “But on that point -- It’s not really about the salary, the job. I work in Bludhaven because I’m needed there.”

At that, Tim’s blank face slips into a smirk. Steph sighs as he unties his apron and slips off his ball cap, clearly deciding that he’s done playing Customer Service for the time being. That means Steph is going to be manning the counter alone for the next few hours. Thanks a lot, Grayson. Steph doesn’t miss the way Dick’s gaze flicks interestedly to Tim’s fingers sliding through his too-long hair, brushing back and it away from his face. Steph feels the need to nod in solidarity. She found that move kinda hot too, once.

For a second, it’s not Tim the Barista standing there. Instead, it’s Timothy Drake, and Dick seems to stand straighter in attention. “Then maybe, Officer Grayson,” he surmised, in that slightly condescending way that Steph reckoned only those bred in high society could recreate, “Robin’s Nest is exactly where it needs to be.”

At that, Dick hums in what is more a surrender than an agreement. Wise, Steph thinks, to keep his mouth shut and spare himself the verbal lashing. Dick doesn’t seem to look very cowed, though, she notes, so much as intrigued.

Satisfied, Tim carefully lays his apron and hat on the far end of the counter, and passes through the front counter’s the swing-gate. He gets to the door at the far wall that Steph knows leads up into the stairwell that connects the rest of the building’s floors, Tim’s attached apartment included. Dicks eyes follow him all the way there.

“Hey Steph, can you hold down the fort for awhile while I go up? I need to do the ordering for next week.”

Steph sighs dramatically, gesturing to Dick. “What, and leave me alone with all these customers?”

Tim rolls his eyes. “Just pick up all the cups off the floor -- and no more building towers with the espresso cups!” Steph sticks her tongue out at him before he closes and locks the door. “Spoil sport.”

Dick is quiet for a few seconds, before he sighs, “I feel like I should apologize for pushing.” Steph stands up from where she’s crouching on the floor, her arms full of fallen espresso cups. Dumping them into the recycling bin under the counter, she huffs her hair out of her face, humming thoughtfully. “I wouldn’t take it too personally -- Tim just gets pretty touchy about the shop,” she hesitates, before continuing a bit more quietly “It was important to him, growing up. He bought the place after his parents died.”

At this, Dick’s expression falls, and suddenly she’s being hit with the most beseeching blue eyes she’s ever seen. Jesus H. Christ, those have to be against the Geneva Conventions.

“Would you tell him I’m sorry? I didn’t mean to offend him. . .” Steph physically resists the urge to wince at the intensity of the look, waving him off, “Yeah, sure, fine, I’ll tell him. Just jeez, quit it with the eyes.”

The eyes are still in the realm of small kicked animal, but less Sarah McLachlan, so Steph manages to survive as Dick’s expression turns thoughtful.

“Thank you.” A beat, then, “I think I’ll order another hot chocolate, actually, if you don’t mind.”

At that Steph raises an eyebrow, “For the road?” Dick clicks his tongue. "No,” he says, blue eyes twinkling with something like mischief, his grin suddenly sharp. His eyes, however, turn to the door that Tim had disappeared behind.

“It’s for a friend.”

To be fair, Steph lasts a whole 23 minutes.

“Hey, I mean, Timmy didn’t say anything about building towers with any of the other cups.”

173 notes · View notes

gamerwoo · 6 years

Text

Zitao: Payback

anonymous asked: idk if you write for ot12 exo but if you do could you maybe write a soulmate au for tao? if not, for lay? thank you~!

Characters: Zitao x reader (featuring exo)

Genre/warnings: soulmate au, non idol au, definitely a lot of crack but it makes up for that in lots of fluff too

Word count: 3,295

Summary: When your soulmate draws on their skin, it appears on yours as well. That tends to annoy Zitao because your friends draw the most embarrassing things on your arms, so he finally tries to get back at you.

“What the actual fuck is this?” Yixing exclaimed, grabbing Tao’s arm and pulling it closer for him to look at.

Lo and behold was exactly what he thought was written in black ink down the younger boy’s forearm.

Chanyeol leaned over and took a look as well, laughing loudly at what he saw. “Why did you write ‘EAT MY ASS’ on your arm?”

Surprised, Tao yanked his arm away and looked at it. With a scoff, he rolled his eyes and tugged his sleeve down to cover it. This wasn’t the first time it had happened, and he was sure it wasn’t the last.

“It’s my stupid soulmate again.” he groaned, holding his arm protectively to his chest. “I’m pretty sure they’re out to get me.”

“Are they...okay?” Yixing chuckled.

“They only ever draw and write inappropriate things on their skin.” he huffed, rolling his sleeve back up to see if maybe you’d washed the words off of your arm. Unfortunately, the ink was still thick and black on his flesh. “It’s obnoxious.”

Although you were able to draw whatever you wanted on your skin for your soulmate to see, there were a few rules. You couldn’t give away your number or address, as that would mess with fate. Nobody ever dared mess with fate.

However, at this point, Tao was sure he would’ve rathered you just made an exact replica of your face on his chest or something because this was getting ridiculous. He couldn’t even count the amount of times he had woken up with boobs drawn on his forehead, and now there was this, too.

The drawings started out sweet. They were cute flowers, patterns, and minimalist portraits of people he didn’t recognize. Actually, Zitao thought you were a fantastic artist. But then the lewd pictures and writing began to get sprinkled in among the art until it completely took over. He couldn’t even remember the last time you’d drawn something beautiful for him.

“What do you draw for them?” Yixing wondered, leaning back against the wall as the two boys waited for the subway.

Tao looked up, seeming surprised by the question. “Huh?”

“Don’t you draw on yourself for them too?”

“...Not really.”

Chanyeol chuckled, gesturing to the arm that Zitao seemed to be trying to hide behind his back. “So you let your soulmate embarrass you, and you don’t do anything about it?”

“Are you implying I get revenge on them?” Tao laughed awkwardly.

“Yes.” Chanyeol nodded at the same time Yixing made a face and said, “No!”

The two boys exchanged looks before Yixing spoke up, looking at Tao. “Don’t start a fight with your soulmate. What happens when you meet them? It’ll just be awkward.”

“Or it’ll be hilarious.” Chanyeol contradicted with a wide, toothy grin. “Can you imagine the things you can draw and write to get back at them?”

The announcer said the subway would be arriving, so the three boys stepped away from the wall and up to the yellow line by the track. Yixing and Chanyeol kept bickering back and forth about what Tao should do about his soulmate, but he drowned them out. If you could draw the things you did to embarrass him, why couldn’t he do it to you?

Quietly, he slipped a pen out of his bag and pressed it to his skin.

You stared down at the words your roommates had scrawled across your forearm while you were asleep. It wasn’t the first time they’d done this, and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. Ever since you’d gotten your first drawing from your soulmate--actually, it was the answers to a test he was taking--your two roommates had been relentlessly messing with your soulmate.

You were able to keep it a secret for a little while. In fact, you’d make cute little doodles all over your body specifically for him to find. You never really got anything back but you figured maybe he wasn’t super artistic. He never wrote anything that made it seem like he didn’t like your drawings, so you kept them going.

It didn’t take long for your roommates to notice all of the ink over your body. They easily caught on to why you were drawing on your skin so much, and soon, they were joining in. However, instead of cute and thoughtful drawings, they would draw and write inappropriate things that would not only embarrass you, but your soulmate.

“___!” Sehun’s whining voice cut through your annoyance at the new addition to the doodles on your body. “Where are you?”

Instead of replying, you sighed and got out of bed, trudging to your bedroom door and throwing it open. At the end of the hall, you saw Sehun walking by before he stopped and backed up, throwing a grin your way.

“Morning!” he greeted you, a little too cheerily.

You glared at him, holding your arm up for him to see. “Which one of you fuckers did this?”

“Baekhyun.” he immediately replied.

“Was not!” you heard the older boy shout from the kitchen as if he was just waiting to be thrown under the bus. “Kris did it last night!”

“I didn’t even go out last night.” you pointed out as you saw your second roommate walk over to the hall, balancing a bowl of cereal in one hand.

He shrugged. “We invited some friends over.”

“And you just happened to let Kris into my bedroom?”

Your two roommates exchanged glances at each other before slowly replying, “...Yes.”

That didn’t sound very convincing. You knew it was one of them who had written on you but you didn’t know who. They weren’t dumb enough to write in their normal handwriting so it was difficult to figure out who had done it.

“I don’t want either of you-”

“Wait, what’s that?” Sehun cut you off, one of his hands reaching toward your neck. He brushed your hair off your shoulder to get a better look. Then he burst into a fit of laughter. “Hyung! When did you do this, it’s hilarious!”

Baekhyun’s eyebrows furrowed as he stepped closer to you to see what Sehun was talking about. “Dude, I didn’t draw anything else on her.”

You practically said “aha” out loud, pointing at the older boy. “So it was you!”

“That’s the least of your worries, ___-ah.” he chuckled, gesturing to the bathroom. “I think you might want to check the mirror.”

Your eyes widened slightly as you paused before pushing passed your two roommates to the bathroom, flicking the light on and looking in the mirror. You moved your hair and titled your head to see what exactly they were talking about.

‘TITTY SPRINKLES’. That’s what was written on your neck. Fucking ‘TITTY SPRINKLES’.

You groaned and turned to the open doorway to see your two idiot roommates laughing at you as they high-fived each other. Apparently they were really pleased with themselves for getting a reaction out of your soulmate, but you were less than happy. This more than likely meant he was sick of you embarrassing him and now wanted to get back at you. You’d probably pissed him off. Well, your roommates did, anyway.

The second reason you weren’t happy was because you had work in an hour. Normally, hiding this wouldn’t be a problem because of your hair, but you had to have your hair up for work. That meant ‘TITTY SPRINKLES’ would be on display for every coworker and customer to see.

“It’s not funny!” you whined, stomping one foot like a child. “I have work and I need this off of me! I’m gonna get fired!”

“Hey, take that up with your soulmate, ___.” Sehun grinned with a shrug before walking away.

“Let us know how that goes, though.” Baekhyun giggled before following behind the younger boy.

You let out a huff, not knowing what to do. How could you get your soulmate to get rid of this?

And then you remember the obvious.

You went back to your room and grabbed a pen out of your backpack. Then you opened your palm and faced it toward you, scribbling out a sentence on your skin and staring at your hand until something new happened.

‘Please erase that’.

It took a few moments, but a new message appeared on your skin.

‘Lmao no’.

‘I have work’.

‘You started it’.

You quickly realized you were running out of room on your hand, so you moved to the forearm opposite the one that still had the lewd message Baekhyun had written on it.

‘It wasn’t me! It was my roommates’.

‘This isn’t even the first time you’ve written something like this’.

‘You’re really going to make me go to work like this, aren’t you?’

‘Suffer :)’.

While you were very annoyed, you couldn’t blame your soulmate for finally breaking. Your roommates had been pulling this dumb joke for months now, and you were honestly surprised that they’d managed to stay quiet for this long.

Despite that, you were still a little annoyed with your soulmate anyway. But you had to get ready for work, so you went to the bathroom to scrub off the writing from your part before putting on your uniform and praying you’d still have a job by the end of the day.

Other than the little notes you had sent him earlier that day, you were quiet all day, which sort of worried Tao. Did he really go too far by not getting rid of the words he’d asked Chanyeol to help him write on his neck? Did you get fired and were too upset with him?

Feeling--only slightly--guilty, he grabbed the pen that was sitting beside him to do his homework and began writing on his arm that used to say ‘EAT MY ASS’.

‘How was work?’

He left it alone for a while, hoping you’d reply if you weren’t too angry with him. Instead, he did his homework while he tried to keep his brain away from thoughts of you and focused on the class he was taking. It was difficult, though. You were his soulmate and he didn’t really want to upset you; he just wanted to get back at you.

He saw the purple ink appear on his arm, and he immediately stopped what he was doing to read it.

‘Shut up’

Yup, you were mad. But come on, were you really allowed to embarrass him but he couldn’t do it to you? He’d had to go to class on numerous occasions with his sweatshirt sleeves pulled down over his hands, and sweatpants to cover the entirety of his legs even if it was hot outside.

‘You didn’t get fired, did you?’

‘I got written up, thanks to you :)’

Well...at leas you weren’t fired. But Tao couldn’t deny he felt kind of guilty, and definitely really bad for you.Maybe he should’ve just erased it liked you’d asked, or just listened to Yixing when he told him to leave the situation alone.

Instead of replying, Zitao simply drew a heart on his wrist, hoping maybe it could be some sort of peace offering. It was uneven but it was the gesture that counted, right?

He frowned when you didn’t reply right away, but he couldn’t blame you for being kind of upset over this. He didn’t know anything about your life, and maybe this job was all you had.

But if you weren’t going to stop these embarrassing drawings and writings, then neither would he. He would just have limits now, even if your “roommates” didn’t.

The first thing you saw when you woke up was the heart on your wrist. You didn’t notice it when you went to sleep. Had your soulmate left it there for you? Was he trying to show he was sorry?

It wasn’t like you could stay mad at him anyway. He was your soulmate and you were destined to be with him. You’d have to make up with him at some point. Besides, Sehun and Baekhyun were the reason he had written what he did on your neck anyway.

After you’d finally gotten the energy to sit up, you reached for the pen on your nightstand and drew two more hearts, a smaller one below the original heart, and an even smaller one under that one. You liked the way it looked, and you figured it was your way of making up.

Satisfied, you got out of bed and went to the bathroom to start your morning routine before classes. Thankfully, your soulmate’s writing was no longer on your neck, leaving your body free of any ink except for your half of the conversation on your arm, and the three hearts on your wrist. You washed off the conversation last night but made sure to keep the hearts untouched.

A week had gone by without any incidents. Your roommates knew how angry you were after getting written up, so you yelled at and lectured them about never writing or drawing anything on your body again. So far, they had kept their word, so every drawing that had appeared on your skin was either from you or from your soulmate.

You’d gone back to drawing your usual doodles from before Sehun and Baekhyun had decided to step in and mess with your soulmate. Your soulmate seemed to be drawing things back a lot more than he had in the past, which made you happy. It was usually simple things like little hearts, stars, or random patterns that seemed like he did mindlessly when he was bored in class. But every night, he drew a little heart somewhere on your skin which became some variant of Where’s Waldo where you tried to find the heart on your body in the morning. One time, though, he had drawn it right on your cleavage, and you hadn’t seen it until you had taken your bra off for your morning shower.

In return, you drew a dick smack dab in the middle of his chest.

Other than that, the lewd drawings and words hadn’t been appearing anymore. It was all harmless doodles that you hoped made him smile, because his made you smile.

You were also starting your new semester, which meant new classes, so you were stress-doodling more often lately. Making mindless drawings on your arms, hands, and thighs helped you keep your mind off of things so you wouldn’t put yourself into a panic.

The first day of your new class, though, you had seen the most beautiful man across the room. He had dark skin and black hair, and while he didn’t even look in your direction--actually, he kept his head bowed as he scribbled in his notebook the whole time--you couldn’t help but be in awe of him.

The first thing your brain thought of was your soulmate. Of course, you knew you’d always love them more than anyone else--even if you hadn’t met them yet--but it didn’t mean you couldn’t look at someone else and think they were aesthetically beautiful, right? You did it all the time; it was the artist in you.

So, mindlessly, you began to sketch his face on your forearm. It wasn’t the first time you’d drawn some random person’s face on your skin for your soulmate to see. You’d drawn minimalistic sketches of plenty of people you’d seen either on the street, in class, or those who had come into your place of employment. Your soulmate never showed any sign of being jealous or disapproving of it, either.

The boy suddenly looked up and began searching the classroom for something, his eyes scanning every student’s face as his brows furrowed over his eyes. His brown eyes scanned passed you as his head moved around, until he seemed to give up and look back down at his notebook and forget about whatever he was searching for.

Zitao couldn’t get you out of his head. When he saw his own face appear on his arm, he knew you were nearby but he couldn’t tell which student you were. Nobody was holding a pen or writing on themselves, and he couldn’t see if any of them had an exact copy of the sketch on his arm. But god, he was so close to you and it made his heart flutter.

“I can’t believe you couldn’t find her.” Kris chuckled, gently nudging Tao. “At least you have a whole semester, right?”

“Maybe if you never wrote something stupid on her neck...” Yixing grumbled, still disappointed in Tao’s decision to listen to Chanyeol.

“To be fair, she drew a dick on me earlier this week,” Zitao reminded the older boys, a slight smirk playing on his face, “which was totally unprovoked no matter what anyone tells you.”

“Chanyeol already told us you drew a heart on her tits, dude.” Kris laughed. “Nice try, though.”

Kris walked up to the door of a bakery he insisted the three of them get breakfast at, holding the door open for his friends. Neither of the other two boys had ever been there, but they regretted never going once the smell of freshly baked pastries hit their noses. It smelled like heaven.

“Their danishes are the best.” Kris promised as he walked up to the counter, smiling warmly when he saw you were working. “Hey, ___.”

“Good morning, Kris.” you grinned, only noticing him before you finally saw movement behind him. Yixing and Tao walked up beside him and you froze, recognizing the beautiful face structure of the boy you had class with. You quickly tried to brush your surprise off as your heart beat quickly in your chest. “What can I get you?”

“Three cheese and strawberry danishes, and three coffees, please.” he said as he got his wallet out of his pack pocket.

“Make mine espresso.” the familiar face spoke up before his eyes wandered over your forearm. You forgot to wash off the sketch of his face in your rush to get ready this morning and your face turned tomato red. The boy looked back into your eyes, a smirk on his face. “I’ll show you mind if you show me yours.”

He rolled up his sleeve and rested his arm on the counter, showing off an exact replica of the drawing on your forearm. Your breathing hitched in your throat, realizing what this meant. The beautiful boy from your class was your soulmate, and now he was right here in front of you.

“Holy shit!” Kris exclaimed with a laugh. “Never in a million years did I think two of my friends would end up as soulmates.”

“I’m Zitao.” he grinned, opening his hand up for you to shake.

Shyly, you took his hand. “___.”

He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing the back of it softly. “Great to finally meet you. And can I say you have great taste in drawing references.”

You just laughed and rolled your eyes. “Yeah, the dick I drew on your chest was referenced straight from one of my roommates.”

“Sehun?” Kris guessed.

Tao’s eyes widened slightly, dropping your hand from his lips but still keeping it in his hand. “Wait, it really was your roommates?”

“Yeah.” you and Kris both replied.

“After I got written up, they stopped messing with me.” you explained, slowly pulling your hand back to work on their orders.

“I’m...I’m really sorry.” Tao said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought it was an excuse.”

“Don’t worry about it.” you chuckled, getting to work on their coffees before you grabbed their food with paper.

“___, how much do I owe you?” Kris asked in regards to their order.

You glanced at your soulmate before waiving away Kris’s question. “It’s on the house.”

309 notes · View notes

umikichi7 · 6 years

Text

Futari Happiness

Name: Futari Happiness

Word count: +3.5k (in-progress/2chapters)

Tags: Humor/Fluff, Friendship, College AU, Established Relationship

Pairings: Kotoumi(main), Nozoeli, Nicomaki, Tsubahonk, Rinpana.. Lots of brotps!

Summary: Sonoda Umi never thought she would live a different college life, unfortunately not everything in her life would be all calculated as she wanted. Alternative summary: someone tasukete Sonoda-san.

ao3 || ff.net

Dear Diary,

I slowly emerged from the excitement I possessed this morning and I stopped running and doing my exercises. Having the excitement build up in me feels nice, and I feel calmer than I had before. Finally.. Today Kotori will be back from her internship and hopefully we don’t need to get separated from each other this long. Honoka often complains how she desperately needs Kotori by her side when I scold her and her eating habits. When she isn’t around, we feel less like ourselves because Kotori is the only one who can soothe both of us.

I think I miss her so much that I barely... ➳ ➳ ❤❤

Even though we are miles apart, distance cannot make our hearts apart. ❤

I have to clean up the house before she comes since she told me she would stop by my house at first.

Umi looked down to what she wrote on her diary.

Doodles and heart shapes? How unlike her! She cringed at the moment as she closed down her diary with a flushed face.

It was more likely happening than she’d think these days.

-8-8-

Umi bounced towards the front door once she heard the doorbell ring, taking discreet steps approaching neither quickly nor slowly. Her heart took a 180 turn as she heard the birds singing. The high-pitched voice became more familiar with each step she took, she began to recognise the words when they flowed out to create a perfect melody. She felt an immense amount of excitement grow within her. The closer she got, the harder it was to control her heartbeat.

That voice belonged to the precious person she doted on for a long time, her girlfriend by the name. She was waiting outside of her door, chirping merrily simultaneously.

A warm smile traced upon her lips once she opened the door and saw Kotori with a pile of French brand bags in her hands.

The absence of the one you love was the bane of relationships, and Umi was reminded of how much she missed the warm, comforting presence in front of her eyes in essence. The long wait finally paid off as she faced the pools of glittering eyes that had set upon her.

“Umi-chan-” Before the words fell from Kotori’s lips, Umi quickly pulled her into an encompassing hug that would be hardly called a simple welcome. And she did what one could hardly dare believe she would do. She tightened her grip around her waist and buried her face in the crook of her neck.

“Welcome,” was the only word she could afford to let out, the voice was strained yet audible. Pulse beating in their ears, blocking out all other sound getting through.

Kotori’s breath was taken away, not from the squeeze but from the slow realization that Umi’s arms were finally around her. She began feeling the prick of tears behind her eyelids, then they raced down her cheeks. “U-Umi-chan...” Kotori blurted out, trying to pacify her breath.

No matter what Umi was doing during Kotori’s absence, there was always the sense she missed, the collapsed feelings under her skin that she didn’t experience at all, and the hard burden on her shoulders when she had to set her bird free.

For as long as she remembered waiting for her to come back from her internship. For a long time she just wanted to say the words she couldn’t tell. For the longest time she only needed her.

And for the first time she presented a concealing courage under a show of excitement at this moment.

Her hands were swinging free at her girlfriend’s sides as she fell too deep in the moment. Captivated. She was certainly captivated by this magical feat. Savouring her scent, feeling her warmth against her cold front and hearing the rhythmic sounds of her heartbeat, they were her long-awaited treasures that she had been seeking for.

‘’Kotori, I missed you so much. Welcome home.’’ Her voice was subtly sensual and smooth, a velvety whisper that would soon make Kotori flush darker. ‘’Waiting for you this long is not something I was willing to compromise on,’’ Umi muttered. She was barely holding back the emotions that Kotori had brought back. Her budding emotions burst out into blossom like a new spring as she locked her eyes with Kotori’s intensely. As a response, her girlfriend circled her arms over her shoulders and pulled her body much closer to herself, feeling a fire ignite. Then everything felt progressively less stranger as their lips were found only a breath apart.

Breathless and longing.

“Umi-chan… I missed you too.” Kotori sighed, warmth crawled up to her neck as she felt Umi slid her hands slowly back down her hips.

Kotori’s muffled voice sent shivers down Umi’s neck and goosebumps appeared on her arms. Umi would never be able to explain how intense the feeling of relief that had brought a smile to her lips. Glancing up at her girlfriend with a pleased smile, Umi cultivated her courage thoroughly. She leaned forward, then her lips covered Kotori’s in a long warm kiss that left both short of breath.

Startled, Kotori responded immediately, surprising Umi with a little push her lips could manage to deepen the kiss. Kotori’s mouth was so warm, the caress of her lips softer than Umi could have imagined. She tasted her tentatively with a flick of her tongue, and Kotori opened her mouth with a low moan. When they finally broke apart, they could still feel the effect of the strong and affectionate kiss they shared, their glances still dancing around each other, as if trying to catch the flicker of life in their eyes.

‘’I’m finally home.’’

-8-8-

Umi’s eyes snapped open when the first rays of sunlight fell across her face, interrupting her peaceful sleep. She caught sight of light haze, so she slowly rolled to her left and right on the bed with a stifled yawn. When she outstretched her arms to the empty bedside, a dull pain underlying the numbness in her body left her in a grouchy mood. She stood up with a mass of dishevelled hair and tried to reach to the clock on the nightstand. At that point the bed sheets covering her whole body dropped to the bed.

The chill air froze her body and the little brain power she could muster up, she checked the time with half-lidded eyes.

‘Already noon?’ she thought, rubbing the sleep on her eyes. She wouldn’t wake up so late since she would be the early bird and go out for jogging in the first hours of a good morning.

Today must be so cold and already tiring that she would be rolling in her bed and imagined the empty place was only a replacement of her lover.

Wait, cold? It was almost summer, how do you expect such a cold weather around this season? Moreover this semester was finally finished, and Kotori would return from her intern-

Wait… Wait, wait, wait!

Umi looked around her, then downwards.

There were no clothes, or anything that would cover her whole body. Her limbs were aching all over her body. Slowly Umi’s brain had a hard time getting it all together. Her face began glowing akin to a rose as she noticed the air wasn’t cold, and her body was bare naked.

The footsteps on the stairs became clearer, as if someone was running in the whole house. Before Umi could find any clothes, the door creaked open and an orange-haired girl burst in and strode briskly towards Umi.

‘’Uuuuumi-chan! I couldn’t wait to see Kotori-chan, I missed her so much! So I visited you two earlier!” Honoka exclaimed with a happy expression on her face. ‘’Though I don’t understand why Kotori-chan was nervously telling me not to go. You’re completely fine-’’

‘’Ho-Ho-Honoka?!’’ Umi yelped, then slid down the crack between the bed and the wall with bed sheets covering her body.

Honoka’s face immediately changed from happy to embarrassed as her cheeks grew red, in front of a naked woman. She covered her face with both hands.

After a momentary pause Honoka uttered in between her hands, ‘’...Fine and naked.’’

‘’H-Honoka!’’ Umi flared up, stuttering out a reply. Anger and embarrassment fueled her. At that moment Kotori followed from where Honoka emerged, with bated breath, weeping.

‘’Honoka-chan, it’s wrong to barge in to her room without getting her permission!’’

Honoka turned her head towards Kotori, taking a short notice of a soft pink spot on her neck. ‘’Let me correct it,’’ she cleared her throat. ‘’Fast and furious ~’’ she sniggered and backed away slightly from the bedside.

Speechless, both of them found themselves with a huge blush on their face, much to their dismay. Now Sonoda was fully awake in a haze of hot(due to embarrassment) and cold(due to coldness)

#dont mind me #kotoumi #love live #kotori minami #umi sonoda #muse #honoka kousaka #txt #nozoeli #nicomaki #tsubahono #rinpana #myfic #mypost7 #my fic

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thecitylightshow · 7 years

Text

Beloved

For the wonderful @ishipallthings, yet again. Part of my new series “Write Your Name On My Heart (It’s Already There)” - a soulmate AU where when you write on your skin, it appears on your soulmates. It can be found on Ao3 here.

Steve wakes up on the morning of his 18th birthday and takes a moment to just breathe.

He never thought he’d make it to 18, and he’s still not convinced that he’s going to have a soulmate. He’s scrawny and mouthy and has spent half his life in a hospital, either ill or being patched up from a fight. He’s been doodling on his skin all his life, practicing and making notes – but from today on, theoretically, those doodles might appear on someone’s skin. He might have someone’s doodles on his. He’s almost scared to look-

(Mobile users, beware the read more!)

A tell-tale itch sweeps over his left forearm, and Steve brings his arm up to watch, wide-eyed, as words dance across his skin. Good morning beloved, happy birthday! Here’s hoping today’s the day!! it reads, in thick, scruffy scrawl. Steve stares at it in shock for a moment, before scrambling out of bed with a whoop.

“Steven?” his ma asks, shocked but smiling as he barrels into the kitchen, still shirtless with his pyjamas pooling around his ankles.

“I need a pen!” he’s grinning so hard his face hurts. “Pen, pen pen!” he chants, searching through the pile of papers to the side of the table to find one. Sarah dips to kiss his cheeks, but turns back to where she’s cooking at the stove as he pulls one victoriously from the pile.

Thank you soulmate! Steve writes back in his own spidery scrawl. Happy 4th of July! He sits down at the table, and watches with bated breath for a reply. Sarah sets the customary birthday pancakes in front of him, and when he glances up at her, she’s grinning with tears in her eyes – apparently Steve hadn’t been the only one worried. He glances back down, in time to see part of “birthday” smudge and run down like- is his soulmate crying? Steve is about to ask when a reply starts to dance under his own. !!!!! is all it says at first, and Steve can’t help but laugh. It’s so good to finally meet you! I’m Tony, and you are?

I’m Steve. It’s good to meet you too!

Tony has to take a deep breath before he writes on his skin each morning.

It’s been so many days since he turned eighteen – eight hundred and three, to be exact – and he’s never had a response. Howard says they don’t want him or he doesn’t have one, and the look in Maria’s eyes says that she thinks his soulmate is already dead. Rhodey promises him that he’s just the older one of the two of them, that that’s all it is, but he’s 20 now. He’s got one PhD and he’s already planning his next, he’s going to revolutionise robotics and artificial intelligence – Stark Industries will go far when he’s at the helm, with the fiery Pepper Potts at his side – but all he’s ever wanted is to be loved. He didn’t get it from his parents and he didn’t get it from his peers… Jarvis died when he was too young to have made the most of what he had in him, and now…

He expels all his resentment for the universe on a single breath, and reaches for the pen he keeps on his bedside table specifically for this purpose. He’s at Rhodey’s parents for the holiday, and the sentimentally of the closest thing he’s ever had to a real family makes him chose ‘beloved’ today.

Good morning beloved, happy birthday! Here’s hoping today’s the day!! He writes, and then he caps the pen and puts it down, pulling on his shirt and heading downstairs – he can smell the pancakes Rhodey’s mom, Roberta, is making.

He’s halfway down the stairs when his arm begins to itch, and he stops dead, yanking up his sleeve. Thank you soulmate! is being scrawled hastily. Happy 4th of July! follows it, and Tony yelps. He scrambles back up the stairs for the pen, ignoring Rhodey as he calls worriedly up the stairs.

He’s crying, he can’t help it, but it’s been two years of waiting and waiting and hoping. Initially all he can put is a shaky few exclamation marks, just to let his soulmate know he’s here. He’s here, and they’re never going to have to wonder like he did. It’s so good to finally meet you! It’s shaky, but he can’t even care. I’m Tony, and you are? he asks, sitting down hard on the edge of the bed.

“Tony? You okay?” Rhodey calls out from the stairs, and Tony hastily tries to wipe his eyes as I’m Steve. It’s good to meet you too! appears in spidery scrawl that Tony loves already. “Tony?” Rhodey asks as he appears in the doorway. Tony grins up at him, so hard that his face hurts. “What’s-?” he starts to ask, but the itch on Tony’s arm starts up again and draws both their gazes. I hope I didn’t keep you waiting. Tony can’t help but laugh.

You had me worried there, I’ll admit. But it’s worth it. He’s still grinning as Rhodey tugs him up off the bed – the pen’s barely clear of his skin – to hug him so tight his feet leave the ground. Rhodey’s laughing and Tony’s laughing as he buries face in Rhodey’s shoulder. “Today’s the day.” He mumbles into Rhodey’s shoulder, and Rhodey presses a kiss to the top of his head.

“Today’s the day!” He replies, and Tony feels like he could burst he’s so happy. Rhodey lets him go, squeezing his shoulder and heading back downstairs. I hope you continue to think that Steve’s written while they’ve been hugging. Tony’s too busy grinning at it that he yelps, taken by surprise, when Rhodey comes back to drag him down the stairs. “Bring the pen with you, idiot.”

I will, I just know it. It’s disjointed as he’s writing while Rhodey drags him, but once he’s down the stairs Rhodey lets him go. I mean you’re a dude, so you’re already off to a good start he adds, and hopes it makes Steve laugh.

“What’s got you distracted son?” David Rhodes asks him, gruff but smiling as he steers Tony into the kitchen to sit at the table.

“Just my soulmate.” Tony tells him, happy to see how his face lights up before he, too, tugs Tony into something of a bear hug. That made my ma laugh, is there when Tony looks again. Glad to know the feeling’s mutual. Tony grins.

“I’m so happy for you son.” David tells him, clapping him on the shoulder quite like Rhodey does, and taking his seat.

“What’s that?” Roberta asks idly from the stove, but Tony lets Rhodey explain, scrawling out a reply. So mutual, you have no idea. Pretty boys are my weakness. “Oh Tony!” She exclaims when Rhodey’s told, and she kisses both his cheeks before she returns to the cooking.

“Maybe you should exchange phone numbers? Before you run out of space?” Rhodey asks, smirking, and Tony’s too happy to do any more than stick his tongue at him and tack Text me? And his number on the end. His phone – a modded to shit thing that has a lot of duct tape holding it together until he can fabricate a case – is in his pocket, and a few moments later it chirrups.

From: Unknown 09:43

I don’t think anyone would describe me as cute – Steve xxxxx

Tony saves him as ‘Beloved Steve’ before he can second guess himself, and then replies.

To: Beloved Steve 09:44

I bet I would – Tony xxxxxxxxxx

From: Beloved Steve 09:44

Would you? Xx

Attached to it is a picture, and Tony takes a moment to load it up – there’s two people in the photo, and Steve hasn’t mentioned which one he is. One of them is a tall brunet, with his hair pulled back into a pony tail and a lot of muscles under a basketball kit. He’s got a sharp angular face and stormy grey eyes – he’s undeniably gorgeous, but he’s not Tony’s type.

Now the other guy in the picture is scrawny, and has bandages over his knuckles like he’d punched something too hard. He’s got no muscles to speak of and the clothes that hang off him are covered in paint splatters. He’s got long fingers, and again his face is angular – he’s borderline unhealthily gaunt, but there’s defiance on his face even as he grins at the other guy, and his eyes are so blue. His hair flops in front of his face, and Tony can already picture those fingers pushing those golden strands out of the way. He likes what he can dream, very much.

To: Beloved Steve 09:47

Tell me that you’re the blond?!! Xxxxxx

The reply doesn’t come back as quick as the previous one, and Tony chalks it up to Steve celebrating his birthday with his family. It probably has nothing to do with Tony’s message – god, what if Steve’s the basketball hunk and sent that picture to make himself look good?? He shakes his head a little (he’s not really paying attention to the discussion at the breakfast table, but then he doesn’t think any of them expect him to, not today) and dispels the idea. He’d never be soulmated to someone like that. No, Steve’s the blond. He has to be.

From: Beloved Steve 09:55

You’re kidding, right? Xxxxx

To: Beloved Steve 09:56

Fuck no. Brunet’s cute and all, but blondie’s gorgeous. Maybe needs to eat a few decent meals, but god… I could lose myself in those baby blues xxxxx

Tony’s fingers stumble over themselves to get the reply typed. He can feel the back of his neck heat up as he types the words, but the blush will never reach his face, thank god. The words feel like too much, but they’re the truth, and he knows if the roles were reversed he’d appreciate it.

From: Beloved Steve 10:02

… you mean that? Xxxxx

To: Beloved Steve 10:03

I really do. Unless I got it wrong then brunet’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. Xxxxxx

To: Beloved Steve 10:03

But seriously, I adore blond’s and muscles are overrated. Give me some brains and a decent sense of humour any day. <3

He curses under his breath for making the joke – way to play into any insecurity Steve might have there – but he’s trying. It’s only day one, they’ve got plenty of time.

From: Beloved Steve 10:17

You have no idea what that means to me. Xxxxx

To: Beloved Steve 10:17

I think I have a small one… but hey, you get to tell me one day. ^u^ xxxxx

From: Beloved Steve 10:19

Yeah. Yeah I do. :D xxxxx

Tony grins down at his phone. They’ll do just fine.

To: Tony Soulmate!! 19:37

You know, when I was younger, I used to pretend the fireworks were for me. Xxxxxx

Steve sends off the message without much thought. Tomorrow he’s going to have to find a way to increase the number of texts he gets a month – when it was just Bucky and Natasha bothering him, 500 a month was fine, but if this rate of conversation keeps up (and Steve hopes so much that it does) he and Tony will go through all his texts by tomorrow evening. Steve’s not complaining.

From: Tony Soulmate!! 19:38

That’s actually pretty funny. And cute. But mostly funny. Xxxxx

To: Tony Soulmate!! 19:39

I was six! How would I know they weren’t celebrating my birthday? Xxxxx

Steve can tell that Tony’s going to laugh at that, and he’s grinning at his phone. He’s been grinning at it all day, and seeing his mother smile every time he does. It’s a relief to both of them, and Steve hadn’t been thinking about it for the last two years but the metaphorical weight off his shoulders is palpable. He’s got a soulmate. He can’t get over that.

From: Tony Soulmate!! 19:39

I would’ve been, if I’d known. And now I do. Xxxxx

Steve could feel his cheeks heat up – Tony has been so completely sincere all day, around the jokes and the teasing. The honesty was refreshing – people just weren’t that honest in everyday life – and it made Tony seem that much more real somehow. So far, he was everything Steve would have dreamed of if he'd let himself.

To: Tony Soulmate!! 19:40

And now you do <3 xxxxx

#tony stark #steve rogers #soulmate au #stevetony #thecitywritesshow

117 notes · View notes

sevensity · 7 years

Note

Request: The RFA + Saeran reacting to MC being their soulmate ( w/ the soulmate AU where if you write on yourself it shows up on your soulmate as well) What would they have written back and fourth or doodled on themselves as well?? (thank you in advance I love your blog)

ahhh thank you so much for sending this request it was super funto write >:3

so since it’s an AU, basically everyone knows about thisphenomenon and all is well and swell

YOOᔕᑌᑎG:

So it goes like this

Yoosung has an important secret meeting with his guild, and hewrites the time/date/location on the back of his hand

But when the time comes for the meeting to start, there’s anunknown character in their midst

Immediately, everyone thinks you’re an enemy spy, but you’rejust trying to tell them that all the information just showed up on your handthe other day and you decided to check it out

“That’s impossible,” Yoosung began angrily, his whole plan tokeep the meeting a secret had gone to waste. “The location can’t justmagically appear on –”

He stopped himself

Wait…wait a second

is this…what I think it is? Is it possible???

Yoosung starts to get really red inthe face, and he asks you exactly what day the message appeared on your hand

“I think about two days ago, at around seven pm?”

Yoosung’s having a mental breakdown

Okay, just a moment. I need to test it, I need to make surethis is real, he thinks to himself.

But he has to come up with something that you wouldn’t be ableto normally guess

So he writes a sentence on his hand, and asks you to tell him ifit appears on your hand too

Yes

O-okay…what does it say? Yoosung has troublebreathing

“I have a crush on…MC?”

Yoosung’s pretty sure something exploded nearby

whoops maybe that was just his brain

cannot compute

the sky is falling, people are screaming

actually wait no

that’s just Yoosung

screaming alone in his room

whAT iS HAppEnING W H A T????

Your character logs out, and an hour passes by, Yoosung havingmigrated under his covers

He reaches out his hand, so that the sunlight illuminated theconfession he had written

But there’s new writing, one that is not of his own

“Haha,” it read, “I have a crush on you too(//>w/)”

Let’s just say Yoosung becomes a mini-whirlwind as he zoomestowards Saeyoung’s house to find out wear you live

You bet baby sunshine is a blushing mess when he arrives at yourdoor, but the kiss he plants on your cheek is the most gentle of things

You can still feel the delicate shape of his lips lingering onyour face hours after he had left

ᘔEᑎ:

While practicing his lines, he wrote a few of them on his arm tohe could read them without having to carry around the script everywhere he went

The first time poetic verses started blooming across your skin,you just assumed that your soulmate was some sort of ridiculously romanticperson 500% true though

You never really wrote anything back because what was there tosay?

Except you had just finished reading Shakespeare for a class atschool, and you were feeling more than a little inspired

So there Zen is, reciting his lines alone in his room, when wordsthat he had not written appears on his other arm

“O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?” they read

Zen freaks out and almost breaks his neck falling out of bed

He quickly sends a snapshot of his arms to the group chat

“They…they finally wrote back?”

The chat blows up right away, and it’s mostly filled withYoosung’s typos because shit theboy is excited

But the only person who doesn’t say anything is you

What are you supposed tosay?

How do you casually announce that you’re his soulmate???

Seven asks, “So, Romeo, wherefore art thou?”

Zen sends his home address to the chat

You idiot how is that supposed to help your soul mate find you?they say

So then Zen writes it on his arm instead, adding an “O Juliet,Juliet, wherefore art thou?” beside it

When there’s no answer, Zen becomes a crying blob and everyoneon the chat is having a hard time getting him to stop sending dramatic lines

“Ah, Juliet, did you abandon me? Or have the Montagues taken youcaptive? My sweet love, where are you?”

“In front of your house,” you finally say in thechat.

They’re all just like ????????????????????????????

and then !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Yoosung and Seven’s squealing puts high school girls to shame

Jaehee is sad but I’m just a fangirl nothing more I’m justworried about his career and Jumin is saying how he’ll present youguys with a cat show for your wedding pictures

Zen rushes to the door and faceplants into it he’s so nervous

But finally, he pulls it open and sees you, his Juliet, standingright in front of him

“You were always so close to me…” he says, reaching out towardsyou. “But from now on, I’ll keep you even closer.”

Zen pulls you into the biggest, warmest hug

Such a tight hug, squeezing you with all his might…

very tight…

….it’s probably been five minutes since you’ve been standingin the doorway like this….

Was that a squirrel that just entered his house?

Hey uhm Zen I can’t really breathe

Anyway

He keep his word

and for the rest of the day, he holds you against him, neverletting you go, a hand around your waist, or your shoulders, cradling youagainst his chest while you listen to his heart beating fast… unless you have to use the washroom then he might considerletting you go but even then you have a hard time convincing him that personalspace is an actual thing

ᒍᗩEᕼEE: (sorry I wrote this one in the case that MC is a girl?)

So you know how in her route, two main things go down:

First, she doesn’t know she’s gay

second, she has a thing for coffee

you help her realize both of those things right

now instead of showing her support in the chatroom, youshow support while writing small messages on yourself, with Jaeheescribbling some back in her short breaks from work

actually no, she takes breaksfrom work just so that she can answer you

When Jaehee is stressed and lacks sleep so like every day? your words are right there onher arm, telling her that’s it’s okay, that you love her, and to take care ofherself because she is an important person to you and to several others

It helps her relax

She sleeps more knowing that you’re looking out for her

When Jumin has a stick really far up his ass, you’re right therewith her, motivating her, everything will be okay, you’llget through this, I believe in you

Since Jaehee doesn’t know she’s kinda gay,she just assumes her soul mate is a dude

Then you guys meet for the first time at the RFA party, yougreet each other and hold out a hand to shake and-

you see the same message on her wrist that’s written onyours

“I hope I can see you soon.”

Jaehee looks at you in quiet shock

A..girl?

But then everything comes whooshing back to her, and she’s hitwith the realization that it just all makes sense

of course you’re her soulmate, how could she not have knownbefore?

In a burst of boldness, she cups your face in her hand andpresses her lips against yours

“It’s nice to meet you,” she breathes, a blush spreading acrossher face.

Saeyoung becomes your number one shipper that night and starts afanclub dedicated to you two

also writes fanfiction

when you open up the coffee shop, you guys scribble some ideasfor recipes on yourselves

after a hard day of work, you look down and smile at the thingthat Jaehee had written

Recipe for love: MC+Jaehee

ᒍᑌᗰIᑎ:

Jumin was never particularly fond of the the things that wouldappear on his skin

Meaningless dates, appointments, memos, the occasional flowerdrawing…

He never bothered to write anything himself, and so years passedin this manner, until you join the RFA

that is when he first decided to write something back

It’s after you had covered your thighs in swirls and clouds thathe takes up his diamond pen and places the nib on his forearm

“Hello,” he says, “Please refrain from creating such largedrawings, they are rather bothersome. Thank you.”

Nobody knows why you’re in such a foul mood that night in thechat

Jumin says he understands how you feel, since his soulmate hadbeen particularly unconventional with their drawings and now both of his legsare completely hidden behind patterns in dark ink

You do not reply for a long time

while Zen tells Jumin off for being an ‘anti-romanticassbucket‘, you’re glowering at your phone

Jumin Han

Jumin Han is my soul mate?

No it must be a coincidence…but to be safe..I’ll make sure…

“Hey Jumin,” you write in the chat.

“Yes?”

“Did you, by any chance, tell your soul mate ‘ Pleaserefrain from creating such large drawings, they are rather bothersome. Thankyou’?”

“Yes, why?”

….

……….

“Ah,” he says, after a long pause. “I must apologize to you,MC.”

Zen’s yelling

Jaehee’s yelling

Saeyoung’s laughing in the distance

Yoosung wants to cry because w h a t?

Meanwhile Jumin calls you and apologizes over and over again,assuring you that you can draw whatever you want and as much as you want, andhe wont complain at all

lol then why was it a problem like 5 minutes ago?

he learns to appreciate your meaningless memos and occasionaldoodle, and discovers that doing it himself is a truly therapeutic thing

he’s also discovered that he can use his own body to documentthe life of Elly

so now you get an update every 2 minutes about the status of hiscat

Elly is gazing out the window, she looks so beautiful…but ofcourse, not as beautiful as you

Elly is having lunch now…the way she seems crave her foodreminds me of how I feel when we’re apart

basically using Elly as a means to tell you cheesy pickup linesis his new hobby

ᔕᗩEYOᑌᑎG:

LMAOOOO

right so starting off Saeyoung never really doodled on himself

I mean do you see this boy he’s covered in clothes oh my how troublesome

however, a while ago, he could see the little marking that wouldappear on his hands when you doodled during a boring class

You have no idea how much those drawing helped him get his workdone

They were like tiny rays of sunlight for him, helping him seethe way out of his dark tunnel

look at me being all poetic

He would never write back though, always afraid that you wouldstop drawing if you knew he saw everything you made

But after a while, the doodles become less and less frequent,until they disappear altogether

Then you join the RFA, though tbh you guys don’t find outabout being each other’s soulmate until much later

There’s a sleepover at Seven’s house, just you, him andYoosung.

There’s also an RFA party the next day, and you guys are theonly ones crazy enough to pull an all nighter before the event

I mean for them it’s a common practice, sleepless nights

hey you could make a religion out of this

Anyways, it’s not until six am that you finally manage to fallasleep

Yoosung is passed out in the kitchen, his butt stuck to thefridge due to circumstances

Saeyoung wanders around, unable to sleep, when he sees yourpeaceful, unprotected face while you sleep on the couch

He grabs a sharpie and gets to work, careful not to wake you up

Saeyoung does some doodles of his own, and it takes him a fewhours to complete because it has to be perfect so arethey really doodles at this point?

Meanwhile Yoosung wakes up, unsticks his tush from the fridge,and leaves, because he has stuff to do for LOLOL before the party starts

You also wake up, groggy, glancing at the clock

it’s 4pm

the party starts in two hours

You bolt out the door, shouting a quick bye to Saeyoung beforeyou return to the apartment as fast as humanely possible

Saeyoung doesn’t answer you

He’s busy staring at himself in the mirror

“No way….” he murmurs, gently touching his face.

…

By the time you get back home, there’s only one hour to spare,due to the heavy traffic on the way back

You have just enough time to throw on some nice clothes andbrush your teeth before you have to leave again

So basically you have no idea how you look overall

Lo and behold, you arrive at the party, and Jaehee greets youwith a frown on her face

“MC…I don’t know if this is some sort of a joke…but that’shardly appropriate makeup for the occasion,” she says in a stern voice.

Huh?

The other RFA members arrive to greet you, but they all say thesame thing:

“MC, what did you do to your face?”

Then Saeyoung arrives

“Saeyoung, look at –”

They freeze

Seven has a perfectly drawn-in twirl mustache complete withmonocle and angled eyebrows on his face

Needless to say, you also have the same thing on yours

“Seven??!”

He takes a deep breath

Dabbing fiercely, he cries out

“SOLIDARITY!”

and then prances away

Basically you’re all bewildered, especially after Zen haulsSaeyoung back and has him explain just what the actual fuck isgoing on

Zen: “He found his soulmate by drawing an ungodly mustache onsomeone’s face? What has the world come to???”

and you two don’t even attend the party

Instead, Seven brings you to a park where you both lie on theground, counting the stars in the sky as Saeyoung offers you loving words andsweet caresses throughout the night

ᔕᗩEᖇᗩᑎ:

Edgemaster Mc Edge gets a Mint Eye tattoo on his arm while he’sin the cult

You remember that fateful day where a strange drawing appearedon your skin, and didn’t come of no matter how many days had passed

So you automatically knew it was a tattoo and had to question yours/m’s tastes a ‘lil but it gradually grew on you

Ok but now listen

Days come and go, you join the RFA, and you never have anythingelse appear on your body

Side not: once you tried to initiate a conversation with your s/mbut all you would get as a reply was “Fuck off” or “You’re creepystop talking to me”

And then the day arrives when Saeran breaks into your apartment

You’re in the middle of putting on a hoodie, but you drop it outof shock when a grown ass man casually Tarzans into your house

Saeran has got his whole “I’ll take you to paradise andmake you happy and we’ll have sex all day” speechready and you just kinda whisper what the fuck

Why does this guy have the same tattoo as me???

So you’re staring at his arm, and he’s trailing off because whatshe’s not scared?

Actually what is she looking at?

His gaze is drawn to his own tattoo, then he looks back at you

Is a quadruple take a thing?

He just slowly points a finger at you, covering his mouth his aloose fist while you mirror his movement

“You’re that creepy person!” he declares, eyes wide, while at thesame time you say “You’re that anti-social emo kid!”

“That means…that you’re my soulmate???” youguys yell simultaneously. “No way!”

Y’all are breathing hard

neither of you know what the fuck is going on

Saeran tries to run away from his sudden bout of feelies but youlaunch an aerial attack and glomp him before he reaches the window

Basically it’s a very confusing evening that ends in late nightemotional syndrome and melting ice cream

The only time Saeran returns to Mint Eye is to make sure Rika istaken away and her cult dissolved

Saeyoung’s a mess, all tears and joy, because not only did heget his brother back, but said brother also managed to find his soul mate

Saeran promises to write you nicer answers

your favorite one is when he gets a little bit drunk, and hedoodles a little sun and some clouds on his forearm, where underneath he writesa simple

“Let’s watch the sky together, my soulmate.”

578 notes · View notes

puns-and-fics-has-moved · 8 years

Text

Meant to Be - Part Two: Hey

All Parts

Pairing: jamilton (Hamilton x Jefferson)

Request: Soulmate AU – When soulmates draw on themselves, it appears on the other’s skin as well. (Also Modern High School AU)

Tagging: @elenarte @empyrealsakaki @gum-and-chips @karenthepoop @hammytrashy @falling-open @bestfluteninja @urstupidmom @olympun @rebel-with-cause @mishaisakitten @depressionjoke @gemilton @ur-friendly-neighborhood-fangirl

Word Count: 1912

Warnings: swearing, anxiety, allusions to suicide

A/N: OKAY Y’ALL, first off: thank you so much for all the amazing love and support you’ve given this fic already! it means so much to me and i am so truly grateful for all of you. second: I really hope you enjoy this chapter, and I’ll keep trying to put one out every other day!

that’s all, enjoy <3

Alex

Alexander glared at the writing on his arm, feeling his anger building as he walked back home in a blind rage. He bounded up the stairs to his apartment, trying to ignore the writing that was covering his arm.

Please talk to me

I’m sorry

Please

Alex

He burst into his apartment and found that, thankfully, George wasn’t home. He ran to the bathroom and turned on the tap. He made sure the water was all but scalding, and thrust his arm under the stream. He pumped soap out into his hands and scrubbed with vigour. He relished in the sight of the water turning black and running down into the pristine porcelain sink. He felt an angry grip around his heart when Jefferson continued to write even as his words disappeared.

Alex roughly turned the faucet off and fell to the floor in frustration. He whipped his pen out of his backpack and wrote very clearly, in large letters, LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.

Thomas’ frantic writing stopped and Alex breathed a sigh of relief. He stood up again and scrubbed the remainder of the writing off his arm. By the time it was off, his skin was tender and red, with only the faintest traces of writing. Alex dragged himself to his bedroom and collapsed on his bed, curling up over top of his blankets and letting the sobs rack his body.

He couldn’t believe that T – his T – was Thomas Jefferson. Thomas had made Alexander’s life a living hell; had caused so many panic attacks, so much pain… he had driven him to a point of desperation and self-loathing that no one but his father knew about. T had brought him out of that sadness. Alexander was hit with the irony of it all, and he chuckled darkly to himself through his tears. This boy had given Alex his highest highs and his lowest lows… who was he really?

Alex was startled out of his reverie when he heard the front door open, but then he felt relief wash over him. George was home.

“Alex? Are you home?” he heard his adoptive father call through their small apartment.

“Yeah,” he called back quietly, his voice raw from crying. A moment later there was soft knock on the door. “Come in,” he said, sitting up in bed.

George entered and immediately crossed the room to join his son on the bed. “What happened?” he asked, giving him a serious look.

“I…” he didn’t even know where to begin. He had never told his father about how much he’d been bullied by Jefferson and his crew. He’d only told George that they disliked one another. Should he even go into it? He was about to lie, when his father took note of his rubbed-raw arm.

“You didn’t talk to T today?” he asked with concern in his eyes. He had never seen his son’s arm blank before.

Before Alex could stop himself, there were tears pouring down his face, and he was gasping for breath. Bewildered, George gathered his son into a hug, stroking his long hair gently.

“What happened, son?” he asked once Alexander’s gasping had slowed.

“I met T,” Alexander sobbed.

“You met… Who are they?” George asked, his eyes going wide.

“Thomas Jefferson,” Alexander replied quietly.

“It’s Thomas? Don’t you two not get along?”

A hysterical giggle gurgled out of Alex’s mouth, and before he could stop himself, he was doubled over, a sick laughter rattling him.

“Dad… it’s so much worse than that,” he said once his laughter had subsided. “He’s – uh… he’s sort of the reason why… last year…”

Realization dawned on George and he pulled his son into a hug. “I’m so sorry, Alex,” he whispered, pulling him into another hug.

“He’s made my life hell since I started high school.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” George asked, his words coated in concern.

“I didn’t know how, dad…” Alexander trailed off, and George rubbed his back soothingly.

“I know it’s hard to think like this, Alex, but you have to remember… Thomas was also the one that helped you through all of that.”

The next morning, Alexander had to drag himself out of bed. He stayed in the shower for as long as he possibly could, just letting the hot water wash over him and erase the events of the day before. But the angry thoughts kept coming back to him, more scalding than the water that was reddening his skin.

He exited the steamy shower stall when he began to get lightheaded. He was slow to get dressed and to brush his hair and teeth. When he finally wandered out into the main part of his apartment, it was to find his father sitting at the kitchen table with breakfast and tea ready for his son. Alex couldn’t help but smile at George’s thoughtfulness.

He took a seat at the table and his dad glanced up from his newspaper.

“How did you sleep?” he asked, thankfully not addressing the fact that his son was certainly going to be at least an hour late for school, and, even better, not addressing the distressing events of the day before.

Alexander shrugged and began to eat his breakfast. “Thanks for the food, dad, but you should know by now that tea won’t get me through the day.”

“Fine. Give me your tea, there’s coffee in the pot.”

“Thanks.”

“So… are you going to school today?” his father asked casually as Alexander poured himself a mug of hot coffee.

“Um…” Alex hummed with uncertainty.

“It’s okay with me if you don’t want to go. I understand,” George said in a rush, not wanting to pressure his son one way or another.

“No, I’d like to go,” Alexander said, sipping his coffee. “I want to see my friends.”

“Do they…?”

“No,” Alex answered shortly, taking another sip of his coffee. He’d had his phone turned off since school the day before, and he could hardly imagine the reaction his friends would have to the news about Thomas. That is, if they cared at all… Alex tried to shake the negative thoughts from his mind as he sat back down at the table.

“Okay, well, if you need to come home today… I understand,” George said, patting his son reassuringly on the arm.

“Thanks, dad,” Alexander replied. George’s face lit up slightly at being called “dad.” It was a fairly recent development, Alexander having let it slip a few months prior, and then apologising profusely. George had just wrapped him in a hug and told him he would be proud to call himself Alex’s father. While he was happy about it, it still took some getting used to.

They finished up their breakfast in silence, and Alexander left for school, walking slowly. He was too late for first period, but he would easily be able to make it for second. When he arrived, he walked straight to his French class and sat down in the hall, waiting for the bell to signify the period change.

Once it did, he went straight to the back of the class and sunk as low as he could in his seat. He managed to suffer through French class in silence, aching for the familiar doodle-conversations with T. Tears burned his eyes as he thought about all that had happened. What would he do if he saw Thomas today? He shuddered at the thought and buried his head in his hands.

After what seemed like an eon, the bell signaled the end of class. Head ducked, Alex made his way through the crowd to the doors leading out to the yard. He looked up once he was outside and felt himself smile at the sight of his friends all gathered around their usual picnic bench.

“Alex!” Lafayette cried, and bounded across the yard to scoop his friend into a tight hug. “Qu’est-ce qui c’est passé? Où es-tu venu hier?”**

“I went home, Laf… I’ll explain everything.” Laf put his arm around the smaller boy and led him back to the table.

Once they were there, John hugged him quickly and Herc cuffed him on the head, saying, “You scared the shit out of me! What the fuck happened?”

“I met T,” he began simply, as he’d done with his father. After their gasps of curiosity, Alex told them the rest of what had happened. Thankfully, he managed to refrain from crying, but reliving the events of the day before again was utterly exhausting. He looked up at his friends once he had finished, unsure of what their reaction would be.

John looked livid, his eyes bright with rage. Lafayette had sympathetic tears in his eyes. Hercules looked pensive, but his eyes were angry.

“I wonder what the fuck is going on in his brain,” Hercules said after a long silence.

They were all taken aback by this. Alex was suddenly reminded of his father’s words; Thomas was the one who helped him through everything. But he also caused it.

Alex looked across the yard at the place where Jefferson’s crew usually ate their lunch. Everyone was there except for Thomas. James Madison looked over and caught Alex’s eye. His expression was unreadable, but he gave a stiff nod and looked away. How much did he know? Alex wondered.

“I don’t give a fuck what he’s thinking, Herc,” John said after they’d all let his words sink in. “After all the shit he put Alex through? He doesn’t deserve our empathy.”

“I never said he did,” Herc retorted brusquely.

“I think he does,” Laf said gently. “He is Alexander’s soulmate. Think how terrible he must feel that all the times ‘A’ needed him, he had been the reason… Think how awful it must be to realize that you have completely ruined your soulmate every day for the past two years.”

“I’m not ruined,” Alex said in a stab of hot anger. “He hasn’t ruined me.”

“Alex – that is not what I meant…” Laf stumbled, regretting his words.

Alexander stood up, rage still coursing through him. He knew he wasn’t mad at Laf, but he definitely needed to get away from him; from all of them.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” Alexander said, swinging his backpack over his shoulder and stalking away in a huff.

He felt his anger cool as he walked home, immediately feeling the usual anxious guilt from having yelled at his friends. Why were they even friends with him? He was so shitty towards them all the time…

“Shut up,” Alex growled to himself under his breath, angrily trying to remove the negative thoughts from his mind. He realized that normally, at times like this, he would try to talk to T. He would ask for pretty doodles or just words of comfort. Tears stung his eyes as he realized he had lost T. Now it was Thomas.

They’re the same person, said a voice in his head; a voice that sounded suspiciously like his father. But were they, though? How could T be the same person as Thomas?

With a sigh of defeat, Alexander realized he needed answers. And there was only one way to do that….

Entering his apartment, Alexander went straight to his room to grab a pen. With a heavy sigh, his heart pounding, Alex sat down on his bed, and poised the pen onto the tender skin of his wrist.

Hey.

** Translation: What happened? Where did you go yesterday?

#yikes #jamilton #jamilton fanfic #hamilton fanfic #hamilton #soulmate au #jamilton soulmate au #hamilton soulmate au #hamilton x jefferson #jefferson x hamilton

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