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cashmoneyyysstuff · 3 months

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So, that deja vu fic got me thinking.. and what if katsuki has a childhood friend (obvi friends w deku too) where he is always trying to impress her and class 1-a notices or ( if you’d like them older ) the agency notices and starts betting on when he’ll confess to her. turns out, she actually confesses first and everyone is happy (and slightly disappointed… nobody got their money) 😋😋

Also, when i saw the notification “@cashmoneyyysstuff started following you” i have never hit a follow back button so fast 😭🫶

Remember you’re amazing, take care of yourself, drink water, stay safe, and know that you are loved ❤️

WAAAA @itzjustj-1000 this is soo cute ! especially since katsuki being a loser n tryin to impress us instead of just confessing is honestly adorable. ALSO ALSO ur LITERALLY THE SWEETEST !! ur the loveliest it's a given i had to follow u !! i tried to honour ur request as best i could, i hope you like it ! also say it w me yall: WEEWOOO WEEWOOO CHILDHOODFRIENDS TO LOVERS ALEEEEEERRTTT (yall r forcing my hand atp (not that im complaining tho))

fem reader, katsuki is a whipped little loser, katsuki likes getting praised by reader but acts like he doesn't challenge (fails miserably), kaminari n sero are little shits, m*neta (he doesn't say anything creepy don't worry <3) everyone is in their 2nd year in this one. lemme know if i missed something else !

for as long as izuku midoriya could remember, you and kacchan have always been a packaged deal.

deku remembers all the way back in primary school, how kacchan would bend over backwards to impress you, spending his days trying to win your praise like he was collecting it. whether it be showing off how good his reading skills were, or showing off his newly acquired quirk to you at any given chance. (away from the eyes of the teachers, of course)

or even with silly things. like the time he showed you how long he could hold his breath underwater. it didn't matter, as long as he could show it off to you, he would.

deku remembers how pride would fill his childhood friends face, cheeks practically glowing and a smile basically reaching his ears. a simple "woooah, you're so cool kacchan !" had the boastful blonde giddy for the entire day, chest puffed out as he walked ahead of everyone, with you right next to him, of course. (you were the only one worthy enough to stand by his side after all)

and though he spent his time trying to win your praise, he also needed your attention constantly. katsuki constantly demanded your attention. he's the only one who's allowed to sit next to you in class, you're always the one he picks first when it's time to pick teams to play dodgeball. he's your partner for every project and you're the one who walks beside him when you and your friends go venture out in the woods to go out on your adventures. and even though they would usually take place in the park, katsuki always claimed he'd be the one to protect you if anything were to happen.

as kids, deku was probably the only one who noticed how hard katsuki tried to impress you.

and he's probably the only one to notice how he still does it now.

"sooo...kacchan totally has a thing for yn, agreed ?"

"mhm. definitely."

"yup."

"'m suprised you just noticed that now, kaminari...actually i'm not really suprised." jirou drawled, twirling one of her earphone jacks around her finger.

okay, so apparently he isn't the only one who noticed.

kaminari pouts "i noticed ! i noticed, like, ages ago !" he huffs into his folded elbows on the desk " i just wanted to see if you guys did !"

"you'd be stupid to miss it." sero cuts in smoothly. their grouchy homeroom teacher somehow ended up absent, leading to an impromptu free period. which in turn caused for loads of gossip he had somehow gotten roped into. kirishima, kaminari and sero were talking about you and katsuki, happily chatting off about something they couldn't hear from where they were sitting.

"maaaannn, bakugou's way too lucky, scoring such a pretty girl. what's he got that i don't ?!" kaminari whines. kirishima shushes him lightly, afraid to rouse the attention of a certain blonde they just so happened to be talking about

"now that i think about it.." sero wondered, leaning onto kirishima's shoulder "midoriya, you guys are childhood friends, right ? have they always been..." he cuts himself off, pointing over at you both with his chin for midoriya to look back. ".. like that ?"

you're chatting about something that's apparently funny or exciting, with katsuki listening along attentively, his head resting in his palm like he's admiring you. his full focus entirely on you, as it usually was.

you're using your hands a lot while you're talking and deku recognizes it as the thing you do when you've gotten to the juicy part of the conversation, deku almost wishes he could listen in, then remembers it's not good to be nosy and shakes the thought away. every once in a while katsuki interjects with a subtle smirk on his face and his remarks have you either giggling or playfully pouting at him unable to hide your smile. the playfulness in his heavy lidded red eyes remains at any reaction you give him, though. kacchan's worked on his poker face over the years but it seems he can't control himself when it comes to you.

izuku realizes he's been openly staring for too long and quickly turns back to look at sero who raises an eyebrow, awaiting a response.

izuku chuckles to himself "yeah, pretty much." he hums, playing around with the ends of his tie as he speaks.

"oooouu~" kaminari sings, suddenly lifting his head up from where it was hidden into his shoulder with a sudden burst of energy, startling kirishima. "juicy details about kacchan, i'm in !"

"i don't know if it's exactly 'juicy'" izuku sweatdropped, chuckling awkwardly. "but kacchan and yn have always been really close. when we were younger, kacchan would always be seeking out yn's attention. he'd be really possesive..or protective over her, i guess ?—it was all pretty harmless though." he recounted, smiling softly at his childhood memories nostalgically pouring into his mind.

both kirishima and sero let out quiet hums when he finishes while denki simply pouts "s'not as juicy as i thought it would be" he huffs petulantly, receiving a knock on his head from jirou who hisses a "he told you that, idiot"

kirishima places his head into the palm of his hands and sighs dreamingly "man, that's so cute. bakugou's been a major softie for yn for so long.." he clenches his fist and izuku thinks he sees a little tear in his eye "so manly !" he exclaims through his sharp teeth.

"yeah, i don't know if 'manly' is the word i'd use to describe someone who's been whipped for so long and still doesn't have the balls to confess" sero ribbed, snickering to himself with denki joining in shortly after.

"hey, don't be assholes !" jirou shot "i think it's kinda cute y'know ? not really..manly..but—cute." she said.

"how much you wanna bet he's not gonna confess until graduation?" kaminari challenged.

"wouldn't put it past 'im." a voice suddenly chimes in. the five of them all turn their heads left, right then down at the voice that came from none other than mineta, who had somehow wormed his way into the conversation.

"and what the hell do you think you're doing sneaking into our conversation, freak" jirou sneers, glaring down at mineta who had already dragged his chair over, including himself into the group.

mineta decides to ignore jirou as he places his arms onto the desk seriously like he's imitating some type of mafia don. " bakugou's never gonna confess any time soon, he's too much of a pussy" he waves off nonchalantly "i bet he won't even have done it by the time we've finished school ! "

" and i bet you wouldn't say that to his face !" kaminari guffaws and the purple haired boy sputters. izuku can't hold back his grin as he watches them bicker.

" kacchan's always been pretty..sure of himself" he settles "i don't think it'd take him that long to confess" he guessed, pressing his thumb onto his chin "though maybe the fact that he's so sure of himself could hold him back.."

ah, there he goes again.. the rest of them thought as they watch midoriya babble on and on into theory land.

denki suddenly slams his fists on the desks, startling everyone. he sucks in a breath "alright ! i bet a thousand yen and the entirety of my lunch box that bakugou won't confess by the end of this year !" he exclaims, not too loud but loud enough so everyone in the group could hear him.

"oooouu~ what're we betting on ?" mina chimes in, suddenly appearing behing jirou and in turn startling her. she flashes her a little glare causing the pink haired girl to offer a weak apology and a hug.

"kaminari just bet a thousand yen and his lunch that bakugou won't confess to yn by the end of this year" sero smirked, clearly enjoying the drama

" ou, that sounds fun ! lemme join in too !" the pink skinned girl pleaded giving her best puppy eye and pout combo.

"sure ! just don't come cryin' to me when you lose" kaminari agrees, playfully jabbing at his friend.

"this is so stupid. i'm not betting money on this.."jirou scoffs rubbing at her temple. "c'moooonnn, don't be chicken, jirou ! " denki whines

"mhmm, c'moonn jirou give into peer pressure !" mina joins in, wrapping her arms around the purple haired girl and swaying her side to side.

jirou groans before finally conceding "..five hundred yen. that's all you're getting from me." she concludes sourly crossing her arms.

" i'm gonna go with kaminari's and say his balls won't drop 'till graduation" sero says simply, smirking almost mischieviously at the display of sudden chaos. he looks a little too pleased, izuku sweatdrops.

"i'm not betting on my bro, that's so unmanly." kirishima refused " i say just let them go at their own pace" he finishes, receiving a nasty look from his chaotic classmates.

needless to say kirishima gave in to peer pressure soon after, offering a modest 1,100 yen by this summer for his friend to confess.

"well i stand on what i said, i don't think he has the balls to say it at all. and i put that on all the money in my pockets ! " mineta proudly spoke.

"how much is that, like, one fruit roll-up ?" mina deadpanned, not missing a beat causing the group to erupt in laughter. mineta's objection's falling on deaf ears.

meanwhile, katsuki notices you've stopped talking all of a sudden. it takes him by surprise as you were so into it a minute ago. "what's up ?" he asks. his question snaps you out of your trance and you jump slightly, turning back to look at him "oh , nothing ! they just seem to be having fun " you gasp, a smile crawling up on your face as you look back at your friends having a good time.

katsuki on the other hand has a slight pout forming on his face, displeased at how his loud mouthed friends distracted you from your conversation. and from him he thinks, but that makes him feel like a snot nosed little kid again and his expression turns even more sour.

"tch. the fuck are those losers so loud for" he grumbles under his breath. you catch it though, and you giggle. his eyes brighten and his brows unfurrow the slightest bit when he hears it.

"don't be such a buzzkill katsu, s'not their fault you're no fun." you jest, chuckling to yourself when he scowls at you.

"fuck off ! m'not a buzzkill" he rolls his eyes, huffing indignantly "an' i'm plenty of fun" he finishes grumpily. you laugh a little more, covering your mouth with your hand when you catch a peak of him narrowing his eyes at you making fun of him. he simply rolls his eyes and sighs, shaking his head. he'll let it slide, he always does with you.

"right, right. my apologies, sir dynamight" you chuckle, bowing slightly at him, he huffs out a laugh "that's sir lord explosion murder god dynamight to you" he snorts. you throw your head back and laugh and katsuki feels the same pride he used to feel when he'd found something cool to show you back when you were brats. his stomach feels fuzzy and his head feels clouded the way it used to when you'd offer him your big, bright sparkly eyes and a "you're so cool kacchan !"

god, it never failed to remind him how much of a whipped loser he was for you.

and unfortunately still is.

you scoot your chair a little closer to his and katsuki has to use all of his might not to blush at the sudden proximity, as miniscule as the distance between you both was to begin with.

"well okay then, sir lord explosion murder god dynamight" you say rapidly, laughing to yourself. katsuki let's out a breathy chuckle, it's cute. he's cute. " i'm sure it doesn't mean much, but i at least think you’re plenty fun to be around"

katsuki feels his heart skip a beat too many.

you whisper, like it's a secret. you're in your own little corner while all your classmates are chatting away yet you say this to him like it's something between you and him. batting your eyelashes up at him. god, it's like you're out to kill him and honestly katsuki thinks for a second he wouldn't mind dying by your hand.

he's such a whipped loser.

he can't think straight. you're sitting so close to him, you're lips are glossy from that lip gloss you always have on you. you smell nice, katsuki feels like a creep for smelling you like you aren't a breath away from him.

"yeah, well.." he utters lowly. he licks his lips, feeling himself grow dizzy as he watches you watch the movement intensely and swallows. his adam's apple bobs and he can feel himself blushing like an idiot. " i don't think you're all that bad either" the end of his sentence comes out a little breathy, he barely realizes he's speaking. like his body is deciding for him, he doesn't mind much.

you give him a sweet little smile and your eyes shine like stars and you look up at him like he's everything, like he's the coolest. he wants you to look at him like this all the time.

you suddenly lean in and kiss him, right next to his lips, just at the corner. it lasts for about 0.3 seconds but katsuki feel his entire body exploding from the inside like he's let off his quirk onto himself.

"i take it back actually" you start "you're super cool to be around, kacchan." you whisper bashfully. katsuki huffs out a little laugh once his heart had stabilized itself a little bit, a small smile growing on his face—

" AW MAN? WHAT THE HELL ?!"

you both turn to the sound of your electric classmate, sporting a little pout on his face. proceeding to get dog-piled on by your other classmates surrounding him, causing him to let out whines and moans of complaint.

"i-ignore him !" mina waves off nervously "just keep doin' what you were doin !— i mean, we weren't watching or anything !" she splutters.

"nice one." jirou deadpanned sarcastically, rolling her eyes. "look, we don't mean to pry or anything, but who kissed who first ?"

at that, katsuki's cheeks flare up, turning a damn near violent shade of pink. he's about to yell obscenties at his classmates, about to tell them it's none of their business when-

" i did !" you giggle, a cat-like grin on your face

"you sneaky fuckin minx-" katsuki growls, shoving his index fingers into your sides and you let out a squeal mixed with a giggle. you're quickly drowned out by your classmates releasing a group groan, with sero and kaminari yelling and booing at katsuki, who in turn starts threathing them, his hands crackling and popping.

you don't exactly know what's happening, but you can't help but feel extremely joyful and happy.

"soo.." mineta starts "since i said bakugou wouldn't confess first doesn't that technically mean i-"

" IN YOUR DREAMS ! "

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tired-teacher-blog · 8 months

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Pro hero Deku is big, strong, gentle, and a total klutz.

You still remember the first time he nervously approached you, all sweaty and anxious and stammering what you later made it out to be an invitation for dinner.

He was cute that evening, trying his hardest to impress you, to live up to his title of being the fearless and charismatic number one hero, but failing miserably to maintain that flawless facade in front of you.

That night he honestly thought you'd make fun of him for being too shy and awkward, or at the very least that you would get up and leave without looking back.

You didn't though, it hadn't even crossed your mind to be anywhere but right there with him. His kind eyes, bashful smile, and deep blush that reached the tips of his ears, drew you in each second that passed and rendered you unable to avert your gaze from him.

He mesmerized you just as you did him.

The beautiful perfect you, whom he couldn't chase out of his mind ever since the day you barged into his life unannounced and uninvited, you messed him up and flipped his world upside down with a simple glance.

Him, the handsome pro hero whose name alone is enough to strike fear in the hearts of the deadliest villains, was but a shy puppy in front of you.

You still remember that one time you asked him inside for a cup of coffee as he leaned back from a kiss goodnight after one of your dates, but it wasn't coffee you wished to share with him that night..

_ "Are you.. sure about this?" and you could see it clearly in his eyes, that despite his reluctance, the only answer he craved to hear you utter was a 'yes'.

_ "Yes, I haven't been more certain of anything in my life." and as confident as you might have sounded then, there was an undeniable nervousness running through your veins as you slowly guided those big warm hands to your naked flesh.

Awkward, embarrassing, and probably even uncomfortable, that's how first times are supposed to feel, right? Two unfamiliar bodies stepping into unknown territories while exploring each other? It's bound to happen.

Well perhaps, but that was not what you've experienced -not what either of you have- because for you two, it was precisely as if putting two puzzle pieces together. It clicked, was perfect, and felt right.

You wished the time would stop as you made love for the first time that night, as he kissed you gently and passionately, as he touched you softly and slowly, as your fingers threaded through his beautiful locks, as you sank your teeth into his scarred skin, as your sopping walls hugged his throbbing stiffness, as his thumb wiped that single hot tear rolling down your cheek, as you both breathed out each other's names again and again, as he said it for the very first time, "I love you, I always have and always will," in a rare moment of boldness, and as you said it back eagerly, in the dazzling gleam of afterglow.

_ "I love you, Izuku."

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matchadobo · 9 months

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KIDD; reconciliation

summary: name and kidd got into a fight, how does it turn out? wc: 3003 warnings: afab reader, nothing heavy, a hurt/comfort drabble, mentions of sex but not the actual thing, just kidd sorting out his emotionally constipated self, mentions of alcohol

"you want me to what?" you gripped the transponder snail with much pique, immensely angered by being jolted from your deep sleep. even from your voice over the snail, killer could feel your teeth grinding from his request.

"name, i know this is a selfish request but-"

"oh it is, killer." you cut him off. "that bastard better rot out there, there's no way in hell i'm dragging his ass back here in the victoria if he drank his dumb ass stupid! it's all he ever does!" you were furious, all drowsiness leaving your body and was replaced by seething fury.

you hear him sigh over the phone. "i'm very drunk too, i-i didn't even understand what you said properly. we've already carried half of the crew and we can't carry kidd anymore." he laughed nervously, god help the snail you were holding because were you squeezing it so tight.

there was a long silence before you grumbled and clicked the phone off. you pulled yourself out of your shared quarters, fists clenched and brows furrowed. stomping across the deck of victoria, fuming at the events unfolding and what you're about to do.

they left the most inconvenient job for you, a man of his size amounts to almost several quantities of average weighing people. yet you're always the one who can help him haul his ass back to the ship no matter how blacked-out drunk he is.

his weight is not even the problem, HE IS THE PROBLEM! you two had just gone through a heated argument, it's why you were left on the ship when they were having a party in the pub earlier. you were too pissed to join the crew and have to stomach seeing him. yet here you are, on your way to help the root of your bane.

the fight was something trivial that exploded into something so stupidly vexing. you walked out and confined yourself to the sheets, hoping on sleeping it off successfully while he drags his lot to the local pub and drank his dumbass until he couldn't remember what happened before.

"name! you're her-"

"where's that fucking dumbass?" you wasted no time in greetings with the sober crewmates that awaited your arrival. what was once their cordial demeanor straightened up and led you stiffly to where your captain was.

he was sprawled on the wide span of the long, wooden seats of the pub, taking over one long table. his cheeks were flushed and his eyes were shut tight, the usual scowl settled on his face. his good arm was loosely gripping an empty bottle of scotch, his consumption evident from the drool at the corners of his mouth as loud snores escaped his painted lips. the other patrons were seemingly disturbed at the sight, the motherfucker acted like he owned the place!

you sighed a disappointing huff before knocking the chair he was laying on over with one swift kick and fell on his ass as a result. your crewmembers not knowing if they should snicker or run from the sight.

"want your ass left by tomorrow morning or are you gonna pick yourself up and go back to the victoria, huh?!" you greeted, staring him down as you watch him mutter strings of curses while he tries sitting down. he fought off the dizziness in his vision and his heavy feeling as he placed a hand on his head to somewhat soothe the throbbing pain.

"can't sail away without a captain, short stack." he managed to bite back, looking up at you with the same bitter anger you glared at him for.

"did all the alcohol flush out any reason out of your brain or do you not get the idea that i'll drag your dumbass back to the ship because you're too fucking drunk to do it yourself?"

"i didn't ask you to." he bitterly answered as he tried standing up but miserably failed. "i can do it myself. you go back to the ship."

you sucked in a breath of disbelief. "you're incorrigible, aren't you?!" you crossed your arms. "you can barely stand up, you fucking numbskull."

"i'll manage by my goddamn self," he announced through gritted teeth, finally standing up on his feet. wobbly to be exact. "i don't need your help-"

just as he said it, you had caught him by your arms from his immediate fall. "if you'd just use your fucking brain than let it sit in that big head of yours, you wouldn't have to embarrass yourself like this." you snarked, getting a hold of his sinewy arms as you placed his flesh arm around your neck and settled a firm grip on his waist. "now shut the fuck up before i get the urge to catapult your ass to the seas and leave you."

"tch," he grinned, wobbling in his path together with you. "you wouldn't do that, butterfly." he teased as a burp followed his sentence afterward, unsteadily shifting his weight and subconsciously giving you a hard time. "you couldn't sit still when i was gone drinkin' so you came all the way here, aye? pretty fuckin' sweet of you."

your grip on him tightened, he grunted at how his nails dug into his skin and almost left scars that'll bleed. "f-fuckin' hell, can't take a joke now, huh?"

"if you think we're okay, then you're goddamn wrong." you hissed, dragging him in his feet firmly yet not enough to hurt him. "you're a fucking asshole i hope you know that."

"so i've been told." a grin tugged at his lips. "what do you say we put all that anger to somethin' more excitin', hm?" he tried pulling you closer by his arms in an attempt to arouse you but you beat him to it and squeezed a grunt out of him.

"if you think you can get away with apologizing by fucking, you're mistaken." you shut him down, "i'm tired of you treating me like a piece of ass."

kidd has been always getting away with apologizing by fucking you stupid. you end up forgetting what the hell you two were even fighting about or how deep your anger was for this redhead since his length does all the work for him. sorries turned into filthy insults and praises that turn you on more than it made you resent him. it's pathetic, really. the power he holds within you and your ardor for the control he reigns over you. he's a very bad man for you. not that you're shackled to leave him of course, nor the obligation of him as your captain convinces you to stay with him. you deeply detest how much you are willing to give than to lose him. oh how crazy he drives you.

you'd find yourself questioning your relationship with him, you detest how you always want to wake up next to him and find him clinging onto you. the softest look on his pale ass face as he peppered your skin with kisses in the mornings. you hate how your name sounds so good on his lips. you hate how he's always holding you close during cold nights as he warmed you up in his embrace. you hate how good his fingers feel intertwined with yours. you hate how he'd ruffle your hair when you do something exceptionally good. you detest the fact that with one look and one invitation from him, you'd completely give in and run into his arms; letting him have his way with you.

by the time you two finished bickering, you had reached your shared quarters with him. you plopped him to his stygian sheets, hands on your knees as you try catching your breath. this man will truly be the death of you, a claim proven by countless near-death experiences all closely related to or caused by him.

the bastard was already snoring when he laid on his back in a starfish position. but man was it hard to try and lie to yourself when you think that you can simply not look after him in this state. you sighed to yourself as you thoroughly cursed yourself when you sat at the edge of the bed beside his lower body and started to untie his boots. you couldn't resist leaving him like this, as much as you hated to admit it.

you pulled his shoes off his feet, placing them at the foot of the bed. you then took off his pants, sliding them off him. next was his vest shirt, you lifted him slightly to take it off his arms. as you were taking off his goggles, you noticed how ran down his eyeliner was. was he crying? or did he got drenched in alcohol? the former seems to be the less likely.

now left in his boxers, you tried slapping him awake but very lightly. "oi, wash yourself before sleeping here."

he grumbled, turning to his side as he threw an arm over you. "fuck that, let me hold you." he nuzzled his face on your thighs, smiling at the warmth and softness of you. "you smell good."

"that's cuz i didn't get out and got myself fucking wasted as if someone's gotta pick me up," you said through gritted teeth.

"don't be stuffy right now, it ain't cute." he teased, kneading the flesh on your rear playfully. "it'd be bliss to sleep like this."

you latched him off of you. "i'll just sleep somewhere else then." you've had enough, you're not letting this slide another time.

he had a firm grip on your wrist before you could even think about standing and leaving. "no, hey- where are you going?" he opened one eye, trying to look for yours.

"somewhere." you snatched your wrist away, crossing your arms as you faced away from him. your back was all he could look at as he pulled himself up and tried making sense of the events.

"don't be ridiculous, stay here." he pulled you by the arm.

"no, you know what's fucking ridiculous? me staying with a man who can't, for the life of him, apologize and treat me like the love of his life other than a fuck doll that keeps his dick warm and all the affection i ever get is when you're balls fucking deep in me and you start muttering how amazing that feels! that, that's fucking ridiculous don't you think?!" you let out all in one breath, chest heaving from all the emotional baggage you let out. "can't even step off the goddamn pedestal to say sorry for something so trivial, what more to serious fights huh?! do you just fuck me and move on?!"

you live up to the shutting-up-eustass-kidd allegations very successfully, because that man is sat there bashfully with his head down. because you and he both know that whatever you spat out is nothing but the complete truth. all your words knocking him sober.

he'd been avoiding dealing with how your fights are turning out. you weren't saying anything about it so he assumed that nothing was wrong, unbeknownst to him that the very reason you were quiet about it is because something IS wrong. as you got into a relationship with him, you knew he's a phenomenal idiot in love but you didn't expect for him to be THAT dense.

he swallowed a lump in his throat and spoke, "will you... become patient with me?" he rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to formulate his words and regulate the heat in his cheeks. the shyness and the feeling of him doing his best had somewhat warmed up your cold exterior.

"i've been nothing but an asshole to you these past few days and i... well, have no damn excuse for that." he chuckled dryly. "can you give me a chance to... uh... turn it all 'round?"

you were silent, trying to organize your thoughts that argued with the beat of your heart. after receiving no response from you, he cleared his throat, hesitating whether to reach over you or not.

"when you're ready to talk, you know where to find me." he concluded, standing up and walking out of the room.

you busted out crying when you hear the door shut. it's difficult being with kidd, especially moments like these where you almost want to give up but there's something so deep in you that holds you back... he holds you back.

unbeknownst to you, he heard your sobs and tried so hard to not storm inside and engulf you in his embrace. but he didn't, he knows better than to invade someone's vulnerability; much more yours. plus; he knows how much you wanted to not be close to him nor see him right now.

so he went on ahead in his workshop after grabbing a big bottle of beer from the kitchen. he tried distracting himself by tinkering with some trinkets and projects he was working on but you clouded his mind.

in utter frustration, he threw the scraps of metal he was holding on the ground and ran his fingers through his locks. he wanted to talk to you and get close to you. never in his life had guilt become such a sentience that ate at him. the only thing stopping him was that he truly felt sorry for what he did.

that's why when the clock stroke four, you pulled yourself together. a whole hour of crying and compartmentalizing, you now have the will to face him. you made your way to his workshop and knocked weakly at his door. "it's me, can i come in?"

after a few minutes of having no response, you opened the door only to find him slumped at his desk with the half-empty beer bottle in one hand and a little trinket on his prosthetic.

you clicked your tongue, is drinking himself stupid his coping mechanism?! you yanked the beer bottle off his grasp. you get a good look at the trinket he was holding, it was a metalwork of intricately bent lilies painted in white that circled into a necklace. each petal of the lilies was engraved with the letters of 'sorry'.

next thing you know, tears in your eyes streamed down your face as you held the jewelry on your fingers. each petal vein was meticulously chiseled just like the real thing. you held it close to your chest as you swallowed your remaining sobs.

you jolted him awake once more, "come on, let's get you cleaned up."

"augh, fuck." he groaned, the hangover coming in. "oh shit, you weren't supposed to see that." he let you carry half of his weight as you wrap an arm around his waist and his arm above your shoulders.

"you've got a shitty way of hiding it, dork." you tched, "you smell worse than a fucking pig, i'll dump your dumbass into that tub myself if you don't do it yourself."

he sat upright before snaking an arm around your waist and pulling you onto his lap, maneuvering you on his thighs so that you are facing him. you leaned at the edge of his worktable, holding onto his shoulders to balance yourself on his lap. his flesh arm that was once on your waist was now settled at the small of your back.

his weary, tangerine orbs that were once looking up at you soon became glassy. he then rested his forehead on your chest, pulling you closer by the grip he has on your waist.

"i'm sorry."

you hear him sob on your chest as your shirt slowly got damp, his grip tightening with each second the same way his cries become louder. you placed a comforting hand at the back of his neck, while the other gave his back circular rubs. he kept repeating those two words back at you while muttering his amends and you let him.

he then let you carry him to the bathroom, it was a silent stroll to your shared quarters. he let you take off his clothes and settle him on the foamy water of the tub. he let you scrub the grime off his back and shampoo his stiff hair; the water soon turning into a muddy greenish, black.

"face me." you broke the silence, ordering him to do so. he shifted in the small tub, his large body spilling over water and wetting you.

his eyeliner had run down and his lipstick was smeared from his nonstop booze consumption. he bashfully faced you, avoiding your gaze.

after dampening the washcloth with soap and water, you lifted his chin with your fingers, gently scrubbing the ran-down makeup off his face. "can't look after yourself, huh?"

"i like it when you take care of me." he retorted, finally looking at you. studying how you concentrate on each spot of his face as you cleaned it. "and... i always want you to. i'm sorry for being an jackass... all the time." he finally said it after swallowing hardly. "i was too much of a coward to deal with all my fuckin' baggage, i always thought sex would solve it all."

"i know you're a dumbass but i didn't know your brain does not fucking work."

he chuckled a little, raising his hand from being submerged under the water and placing it above yours. "i'm running out of chances to make it up to you, ain't i?"

"i want you to know that no matter how dumb you are, how fucked up you become, however many times your stupidity gets the best of you, and each time you find yourself in deep shit. i'll never get tired of you." you gave him a pinch in the cheek. "but the next time you pull this kind of bullshit again, i'll be seeing myself out. now shut up and let me finish this, i'm too sleepy."

"yes ma'am." he retorted, a grin tugging at his lips. "love you too."

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unhappy-last-resort · 4 months

Text

Fevered Dreams ( PGR Chrome & ??? x GN Reader)

Warnings: implied somnophilia, manipulation, reader is sick (possibly COVID sick, depends on how my test goes), I am currently ill so I decided to write comfort that's less comfort and more discomfort instead

Lmk any mistakes or improvements I can make.

It started with something small. Just a sore throat and nothing more, but by the next afternoon it had slowly grown into into something more troublesome.

Shortness of breath and fatigue and all while you were on a mission too, how convenient. Gray Raven was quick to shuffle you back to base once a nearby squad arrived to help and off you went back on a ship straight to Babylonia with Liv to accompany you just in case you got worse on the flight back (you did.)

You couldn't help but be frustrated, the day was going well and now everything is going to grind to a halt. You were already dreading what the night would be like when you were struggling even to take a nap. You sit up in your bed and stare a hole into the bedsheets. You didn't feel like doing much of anything, you just wanted to sleep, but that seemed impossible. You kept tossing and turning and even when you did fall asleep for a second you'd have these terrible nightmares; a swelling red tide full of all the cries of the ones you love and care about with their broken hands reaching out to you, looming towers disrupting your vision and transforming your friends- and even yourself into something crazed and horrid, towering trees made of fire and hellish twin faces, a sister in white slowly being torn apart limb by limb as her two red sisters scream in horror and pain of losing each other again as one red sister begs you to do something while the other says to stay away and that you'll never be enough. You're sure there's more, but you're too tired and miserable to try and remember any further.

A light knock disrupts your thoughts, and you're thankful for it. "Come in." You try to say it loud enough so the other person can hear, but you end up giving yourself a coughing fit instead.

"Commandant, I've warned you many times about the cost of exhausting your body." A familiar yet surprising voice sounds through your room and you look up between coughs.

"Chrome?" You croak and your brows furrow slightly in confusion. You're not surprised that he's visiting you, you're surprised that he's back so soon.

You remember earlier...you don't remember when and you can't figure out a time estimate, but he came to see you.

In the midst of your tossing and turning, you opened your eyes faintly to see a blurry figure, the face wasn't close enough for you to tell who it was and judging by the black in the blurry colors, it certainly wasn't Liv. Ah, what was that? It looked like a flash of red, Lucia? But you're not sure that's right either.

You open your mouth to ask who it is when the figure speaks first. "Rest. You don't need to fret, I'll be watching over you."

It's masculine, so definitely not Lucia or Liv...your brain is so scattered you can't seem to decide on who it is. Names and faces appear and disappear like shards of glass in your mind's eye, fleeting and falling through your fingers before you could catch them.

A light pressure forms on your shoulder, pushing you down gently in an attempt to stop the writhing you hadn't realized you were doing. "There's no need to panic, I won't hurt you, I just want to watch over you for a while. I'll look after you and keep you safe."

Noan? Lee? Chrome?...Chrome. It must be Chrome you decided, but why is he here now? You remember Liv saying he would visit at 5 PM and while you don't know the exact time now, you knew it was too early to be 5PM.

"Chrome? Didn't you say you'd visit later?" You ask nasally, your throat irritating you to no end. There's a brief moment of silence from the figure before he speaks again.

"I finished my work early, so I decided to come see you early. Is that alright...Commandant?" The voice is melodic, if you didn't know Chrome you'd think he was mocking you right now.

"It's fine, just wondering is all." You mumble as your head falls back onto the pillow, so tired and yet unable to sleep.

"Of course, you wouldn't want a wolf to come in and endanger you." Chrome replies, you feel a finger glide over the line of your torso before stopping right at your midriff. You laugh softly into a coughing fit at his 'joke'.

"Oh my, you really are quite ill aren't you?" A moment later you feel your head being raised and a cool glass press against your lips. Obediently you open your mouth and drink the water and when you've had enough, 'Chrome' gently sets you down again and cups your face.

You keep your eyes closed as he stays like that for a while. You feel his gaze over your face before it slowly drifts down and lingers at your lips, what you assume is a finger runs over your bottom lip before his heavy gaze travels further, studying your neck, then your chest, your arms, your stomach, your hips, and resting a moment between your thighs before the gaze travels the dips and curves of your body back up to your face.

"Go to sleep." If you hadn't known Chrome better it would've sounded like a warning. Regardless, you did somehow manage to fall back into a sleep punctuated with the occasional ghostly sensation of gloved fingers on your skin followed by a soft press of lips, but you couldn't tell if that was from a dream or not, since every time you tried to see who it was...there was nothing.

"Commandant?" Blue eyes swirling with concern and a slight twinge of fear wait anxiously for your answer, a gloved hand stretches out before abruptly hesitating and pulling back. "Commandant, can you hear me?"

"Yeah sorry, I didn't realize I zoned out." You give Chrome a faint smile. "But you don't need to check up on me so often."

Chrome's brows furrow, he seems more anxious suddenly. "Commandant, this is the first time I've seen you today. Did you...perhaps have a dream?"

"Huh? No, you definitely came here earlier." There was no doubt in your mind that that was real. You saw him earlier, you were absolutely certain. You'd even bet your life upon it, that's how certain you were.

"...I wasn't here earlier." Chrome replies, there's no tone of judgement, or mockery in his voice. He says it calmly, confidently, and gently, the same way he does when informing you of strategies or what types of enemies are on the field.

You don't know what to say so you quietly look over the memory again in your mind, combing through it and looking for anything suspicious. It must've shown on your face because Chrome suddenly crouches down in front of you.

"It's...alright if you dreamt of me," Chrome's cheeks flush ever so slightly and he averts his gaze before finding his words once more. "But I want to make sure you know the difference between dreams and reality, Commandant."

There is no hint of judgment in his face, only the sincere and genuine care he has always shown you. "I...you're right, maybe I've been pushing myself too hard lately. I'll ask Liv if I can take some sleeping pills." You're still certain those events were reality, but knowing how concerned everyone already is, you don't want to add hallucinations onto their list of things to fret about so you just go with it instead.

Chrome smiles gently and then it falters for a moment, becoming confused then strained as his gaze lingers on the side of your neck. "Chrome?" You call, wondering what's wrong. Your fingers reach up towards your neck before being stopped suddenly, you look down and realize it was Chrome's hand on your wrist. You stare at each other for a moment before Chrome stands up and clears his throat, letting go of your wrist in the process.

"Ahem...it's nothing, Commandant. I was just thinking about missions. Please get some rest." And with that, Chrome leaves. Quietly shutting the door behind you and leaving you in solitude once more.

Solitude? My, after such a wonderful performance you gave me you think I'd simply leave you to suffer alone? Never, dear little rabbit of mine, would I ever do such a thing.

#pgr #pgr chrome #pgr roland #punishing gray raven #pgr yandere #pgr yandere roland #it's kinda yan ig but not that much #pgr fanfic #unhappy writings #pgr roland x reader #pgr chrome x reader #pgr commandant #tw.somnophilia

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hauntedandmurdered · 6 months

Text

Clannibal

"Can't stop thinking 'bout you"

A/N: PART 1! You should definitely read to the end 🔥🌶

Full story:

When Starling woke up, she felt a sharp pain pulsing in her neck and straightened up a little in the old, shabby leather-covered armchair. She had once again fallen asleep in her living room in an extremely unfavorable position for her spine and was still holding the whisky glass from the previous day in her right hand.

On the large screen in front of her, the news flickered at the usual time. Starling couldn't remember turning on the television. As her gaze roamed the living room - there wasn't much to see here, Starling's furnishings were minimalist, almost as if she was about to move out, or rather, as if the house wasn't really inhabited at all - she put the empty glass down on the nearby table. She listened, but couldn't hear a sound.

With a routine grip on her thigh, she made sure that she still had her service weapon on her. Then she stood up and walked quietly towards the kitchen.

"If anyone is hiding here, come out now and I won't shoot. You have my word," she said and let her eyes wander from the kitchen island to the fridge.

Nothing happened, not a ghost stirred. Starling closed her eyes with a sigh and lowered the gun. Even when she had been suspended from the FBI, she couldn't be free of the thought that she could walk into an open fire at any second. Who was she now without her job at the bureau? A lonely, doomed creature who had herself to blame for her situation. She had sacrificed everything that was important to others in life for work. She had let the FBI take over her entire being like a parasite that kept a sick body and spread unhindered. Starling was left with nothing.

Her eyes took in the bottle of wine on the kitchen counter next to the toaster. Nothing but Dr. Lecter's birthday present, she thought with a wistful smile. She wondered if he had the same exquisite bottle of wine, Château d’Yquem, from her year of birth in his cellar and thought of her when the fine drops rolled over his oddly shaped lips. She wondered how he had changed in the seven years since his escape from the cage in Memphis. Had he perhaps had surgery on his face in order to secretly disappear? And if so, where might he have gone into hiding? Perhaps she had already met him without knowing about it. Perhaps he had brushed her hand in passing like a gentle breeze.

When her phone suddenly vibrated, the hairs on her forearm stood on end. The FBI had nothing more to say to her, she had talked to Barney about everything that needed to be clarified, and Ardelia Mapp, her former roommate, had no reason to contact Starling anymore. Perhaps a food delivery man would call her to remind her to eat a meal again? Starling had hardly eaten since being thrown out of the Federal Bureau of Investigation. When she thought of the triumph and the perfidious satisfaction in Krendler's eyes, who was more or less responsible for her dismissal, she almost wanted to vomit.

She took a deep breath and picked up the phone.

"Starling," she said expressionlessly and waited for a response on the other end of the line.

"Good morning, Clarice. I hope my call didn't wake you up. Your voice sounds hoarse, as if you've only been awake for a few minutes. Am I right in my assumption?"

"Dr. Lecter," Starling murmured and all tiredness vanished from her bones as if by a whip lash. It’s a dream. I must be dreaming.

"Have you already had breakfast, Clarice? Or have you tried miserably to cook yourself a scrambled egg for breakfast?" It wasn’t even close to a dream. She was wide awake, every nerve ending in her body was electrified. Hannibal Lecter sounded a touch too amused to be believable. Clarice rather suspected he was trying to disguise being aroused by her morning voice.

"How did you get my number?" she replied without responding to his charade. Unlike him, she made no secret of her suspicion.

She could tell from the tone at the other end of the line that he was smiling. In a blurred vision from the past, she could see the pink tip of his tongue parting his lips and his face twisting into an indecent grimace.

"Shouldn't you be asking where I am at this very moment?" He had lowered his voice to a steely whisper. "Wait a minute, Clarice. Want me to give you a hint?"

For a split second, Clarice was tempted to hang up the phone and put an end to his thieving joy by ringing the dial tone.

"Clarice," he said urgently, as if he had the gift of reading her mind. "Don't hang up. You'll regret it."

"Are you in my house, Dr. Lecter?" Clarice asked with all the self-control she could muster to restrain her rage. She switched off the light in the kitchen and went back into the living room, where she was greeted by the first rays of the dawning sun.

"I can feel your presence here and now, ex-FBI Agent Starling. You’re so close. You know what's even better? I can even smell you. L' Air du Temps, very seductive. When we first met, you avoided spraying yourself with a fragrance. Do you remember? My memories of that day are more vivid than ever."

Suddenly Starling could hear his unmistakably velvety voice twice, and it certainly wasn't due to the residual alcohol from last night's whisky.

Her eyes darted feverishly around the room until they lingered on a slender figure by the curtain. She felt a pang in her chest that almost robbed her of her senses. The phone slipped from her hand. She had often imagined her reunion with Dr. Lecter in her dreams; most often she had fantasized that she would meet him when he was put back behind bars. She would have visited him as an act of courtesy and asked him about his condition, told him about Buffalo Bill and much more. He would have reminded her with amusement that he had always followed the downfall of her career with great interest.

Something about his appearance was still as remarkable and mesmerizing as ever. Even at first glance, it was obvious that he was wearing a tailored suit that emphasized his defined shoulders. In the meantime, a few gray strands had mingled with his thick hair, but that didn't make him seem any less sublime. In contrary, Starling caught herself thinking that he looked better than ever.

"Hello, Clarice," he broke the silence before she could speak. Frankly, Starling was struggling with what she was going to do. His gaze pinned her to the spot, drilling into her marrow like poisoned arrows.

„You shouldn’t be here“, Starling said shaking her head in disbelieve. „They are not only observing you, Dr Lecter. Their lack of confidence in me certainly leads them to watching my neighborhood to make sure I don't make a move that gets in their way.“

„Are you worried about me?“, he asked and took a large step towards her. She didn't back away from him.

„No, I’m worried about us“, she hissed at him. „What are you doing here? Tell me. Tell me now.“

"Is it so hard to believe that I cared about you and wanted to check on your well-being? Clarice, you must have learned a thing or two about me over the years."

„Why is that, Dr Lecter?“ Starling felt her lips trembling with both fear and excitement. „Why do you like me? I need to know for good.“

„Quid pro quo?“, he said with a hint of a smile. „Isn’t it quite obvious why we’re drawn together, hm? Don’t you feel things you can hardly allow yourself to feel when I am around? And don’t you think about us in situations – practices – that almost make you dizzy with desire? I know I do. In fact, I knew I did ever since you came back to me into the dungeon after our first interrogation.“

Starling felt the blush rise to her face.

„Make an effort to answer now, Clarice. Quid pro Quo“, he whispered and took another step in her direction.

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sunnynwanda · 5 months

Note

Could you do a story where a guard of a Supermax prison befriends a supervillain, because he treats him like a genuine human being instead of an animal; and later, all the power-dampeners suddenly fail; and all these villains just revolt against the guards; but supervillain makes sure he’s safe since he was always kind to him?

I understand if you don’t wanna write this!! 💜

Soulitary

It was silent. Excruciatingly so. Supervillain could hear his own heartbeat, the rustling of the fabric over his chest that accompanied every exhale, the strained motion of his eye ticking. He could almost feel the darkness surrounding him.

At first, it was painful. Supervillain was so reliant on his powers that getting deprived of them physically hurt him. His limbs were too heavy, his chest too stiff, and his body too weak. He couldn't move for a fortnight and barely ate anything until he had lost enough weight to be able to lift his body off the floor. Movement, as limited as it was in his cage, seemed to keep him sane.

The pain subsided, drifting into the back of his mind over time.

He adapted to the constant darkness of his cell, too. The initial nightmares of horrible creatures lurking in the dark no longer occupied his shattered dreams. There were no monsters with long claws and cold, slimy fingers reaching for his neck, looking to choke the last breath out of him. No, there were no monsters in his cage. The monsters were outside. Patrolling the corridors, mocking the beasts they were ordered to guard, spitting at them and laughing like hyenas, beating up anyone who dared to answer. Supervillain learned to tune out their voices and ignore their sneering remarks.

But human nature is a terrifying thing. Supervillain got used to the weakness weighing him down. It was not as difficult to lift his head or hold a spoon to eat whatever animal food he was getting fed anymore. He came to terms with the absence of sunlight as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness. He even went so far as to condition himself to tolerate inhumane treatment.

The only thing he could not adjust to was the isolation. Solitary confinement. The actual worst they could have done to Supervillain, who adored the confused commotion of his big family. He thrived in chaotic environments, where people talked over each other, laughed out loud and always had something to add to the conversation.

Conversation. That was what Supervillain was bereaved of. And he felt it - the need, the yearning of human connection. As little as a hello would be enough. Just a word that was truly uttered – not conjured by his frenzied consciousness.

When he first hears the gentle knock on his door, he doesn't believe his ears. The guards never ask for permission, they barge right in, not dignifying the captives with boundaries. Animals deserve no respect. Thus, Supervillain waits, allowing his eyelids to drop again. He doesn't know why he bothers to open them in the first place when it's pitch black around him, regardless.

The knock comes again, this time louder. Then he hears a hushed voice. "I'm coming in."

When no reply follows, the Guard (Supervillain assumes it must be a new one) turns the key, pushing the door halfway open and entering the cell.

"God, why is it so dark? I can't even see where I'm stepping... Ouch!" He springs back upon stepping on Supervillain's foot and crouches down to place the bowl of food on the floor. "I'm so sorry, I couldn't see."

With his hands now free, the Guard reaches for the flashlight on his belt and turns it on. Supervillain has to cover his eyes - he did not remember light hurting this much - squinting despite his hand obstructing it. It takes him a few moments to adjust, then he wipes the tears off and focuses his gaze on the Guard in front of him. Too young for this miserable place, he thinks to himself while his captor studies him. It's only when their eyes lock, that the Guard comes to his senses, apologising profusely.

"I am so sorry! I did not see you there. I mean, it's hard to see anything in such darkness, but still. My bad." Supervillain is too stunned to react for a number of reasons. Since when did the guards apologise? It was part of the job to inflict suffering on their subjects. Did this one not complete the training? Or was this a trap? Was he acting deft to catch Supervillain off-guard and wound him unexpectedly?

The Guard, however, keeps rambling. "I thought you would be asleep when you did not answer. It's not an excuse though. I should have checked. That's part of my job, is it not? Ah, you probably wouldn't know." He runs a hand over his face, clearly distressed. Supervillain is amused and too shocked to react. That's the most talking he has heard in months, and a part of him desperately demands to answer. The Guard rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. "Anyways, here's your food. I don't exactly know what that is, but you're so skinny, you should eat it."

Supervillain's mind is screaming at him, begging his mouth to talk, to say something – anything. God, move! Talk, god damn you, a word, any word!

But before he can squeeze out said word, the Guard waves him goodbye and locks the door, leaving him alone.

He never touches the food, too consumed by the incident to think about anything other than the ray of light – literally and figuratively –that walked into the solitude of his cage. He spends the next several hours in feverish dreams bordering reality until the morning arrives, poisoning him with a blood-curdling idea that the Guard was nothing but a figment of his own imagination – a chimaera created by his delusional mind. Yet, despite his best efforts to convince himself it was an illusion, his memory opposes, bringing forth every detail of the interaction – albeit one-sided – that he managed to engrave in his brain.

Supervillain is still deep in deliberation when a knock on the door attracts his attention. He freezes, breath hitching in his throat as he waits with desperation for it to come again. It does not. Instead, the key turns in the lock, and the door screeches open.

"I'm going to turn the light on, if you don't mind," the Guard warns. Supervillain is dumb enough to nod in the dark. "Here we go."

He flicks the switch outside the cell door; the bulbs buzz worriedly, and light floods the ascetic room. Supervillain looks around, seeing his dungeon for the first time. He notices his blanket in the corner and the untouched bowl from yesterday.

"Hey, you didn't eat at all! Is everything alright?" The Guard chimes into his thoughts. His voice is laced with concern that feels foreign in this place. When Supervillain shakes his head, the Guard smiles – the room, somehow, becomes brighter. "It's bad, isn't it?"

Supervillain nods, and the Guard chuckles, placing a new hot bowl in front of him. He looks up in surprise and is met with a shrug. "Figured it might taste better hot."

The expectant gaze of the Guard is the only reason he reaches for the bowl. It's as shitty as before, but it warms his insides. He hums in appreciation, taking another spoonful. The Guard smiles again, now more cheerful. "Should I leave the lights on? Or do you like it dark?"

Supervillain finally finds his voice. "Light. Thank you."

The Guard nods before exiting, and Supervillain curses himself for not saying more. He should have talked, for god's sake. This is the first person to treat him like a human being for the past eight months, and all he could muster were three words.

He feels pathetic. This wasn't him, not really. The true Supervillain was voluble, articulate with his words and emotions and loud. Very, very loud. He loved the attention it earned him, loved being on stage. Performance was part of his persona, his public image of a supervillain. The presentation was what gained him the fame. The same fame that led him here. Alas, he sighs, leaning his back on the wall.

At least he has light now.

***

It's been almost four months since Supervillain's confinement changed - the granted light and occasional conversation made his exile from society feel less strenuous. His Guard would come in once a day, as per the rules. Aside from that, he gained a habit of sitting outside his door after the evening rounds, telling Supervillain about his day or the news. His cheerful voice would catch Supervillain off-guard at first, but he grew accustomed to it, as well as to the daily dose of prison gossip. The people in the city were dejected - mass arrests that were supposed to bring peace to the streets had a reverse effect. Supervillain couldn't help the foul smile this knowledge brought to his face. He did not comment.

After two weeks of talking to the wall, the Guard was ready to give up. He had promised himself he would stop trying after the fourteenth night, which ended up being the night Supervillain replied. It was a short comment on the newly installed power dampeners that were to substitute the old ones. Supervillain pointed out that the old ones were more than efficient, leaving him drained of strength and energy. The Guard then asked if that was the reason he was so skinny, and so the conversation flowed. Supervillain told him about the thorny months of his captivity, how it took him countless days and nights to submit to the unfamiliar weakness.

During one of the many conversations that followed, they talked about his past, the origin of his unnatural power and the reasons for his incarceration. Supervillain never denied being dangerous – he embraced it gladly, though he never used his power against innocent civilians. Sure, he had committed his fair share of crimes, as regarded by the authorities, irrespective of his cause. But there were worse things he could do.

The Guard told him of his past dreams and aspirations, all of which were crushed when he lost his parents and had to step up to provide for his younger siblings. He came from a household where no one got left behind, and Supervillain finally understood where his kindness stemmed from.

One day, when the Guard came from the last round, Supervillain was the first to speak. They sat on the opposite sides of the door, back to back and separated by thick metal, yet connected stronger than before.

"So, will you be leaving soon?" Supervillain fails to mask the melancholy in his voice. So much for being supportive!

The Guard pauses for a long moment before shaking his head no. Supervillain can't see him, but the reply is clear as day. "Your brother's graduating next month, is he not? You can stop working here and search for a new job. More suitable for you."

"I can't," his voice comes softer than a rustle. He presses a clammy hand to his forehead to calm the burn beneath his skin.

"Why?" In all honesty, Supervillain does not want him to answer. He doesn't want him to go either, but keeping him here feels blasphemous. Despite the cell draining his life force and loneliness ravaging what's left, Supervillain would rather be forlorn again than allow his friend to waste his youth here.

"I can't, Supervillain," the Guard repeats, even lower now, not trusting his voice to speak louder.

Supervillain curses under his breath. "Why not?

Do not say what I think you're going to say, they plead. I don't think I have the strength to alienate you or push you away to make you go.

"Because I won't leave you here alone." The Guard gets up, walking away to avoid being lectured on the stupidity of his reason. He lacks the nerve to be any bolder.

He doesn't return until later at night. Supervillain is stiff against the door when he hears approaching footsteps and shuffling. Then comes the soft voice. "I'm sorry."

Supervillain sighs, rubbing his eyebrows to ease the tension. "You did nothing wrong." The claim is met with silence, so he adds. "Apart from getting attached to the wrong person, that is."

The Guard chuckles, shaking his head and bringing his knees to his chest. "Are you the wrong person?"

"I'm a convicted criminal." A fact he had to remind himself daily when he first got here. You are a convicted criminal, and the guards will treat you as such. Except the treatment was far worse than that, until his new friend showed up.

"Doesn't mean you're evil," the Guard chimes into his thoughts, dragging him back to the present.

"You don't know me," he notes, though it's not entirely true.

The Guard smiles, leaning forward and placing his chin on his knees to rest his neck as he mumbles. "I think I know more than anyone else."

***

The wailing of the sirens forces Supervillain awake in the most unsettling way. The alarm lights under the ceiling flicker red, alerting him further. He springs to his feet with a speed he hasn't had in a long time and then stops in his tracks because it strikes him. The overwhelming force that hits him right in the middle of his chest, spreading all over his body, obstructing his lungs with suffocating constrictions, rushing through his veins and reaching the tips of his fingers and toes to erupt in sparkles of sheer unrestrained raging power. It's surreal. All-consuming. Galvanising. He revels in the agitation that washes over him, wave after wave. His senses are overstimulated and raw.

He feels lightheaded as he attempts to focus his eyes on his prickling fingers. It takes him a moment to identify the cacophony of sounds outside.

And then the realisation dawns on him.

The power dampeners are off.

In a prison with the worst criminals of the damn century. He closes his eyes to tune out the noise and think, but his mind is too frantic to concentrate. The moment the inmates realise their powers are back, all hell will break loose. Supervillain knows they will revolt. He would, too – after spending months being treated worse than an animal.

The Guard. The image flashes through his thoughts so fast it almost burns him. With renewed anxiety, he bangs on the door. There's no response, and the ideas running through his head coat his stomach with dread, hot and muggy. He knows it's about to get dirty, and, in all honesty, those guards deserve it. But not his Guard. Not him. Anyone but him.

He presses his palms against the door, channelling all his fears and worries into heating the metal till it melts under his fingers. It drips down to his feet, forming a pool. When the lock is soft enough, he whips the door open, but as he is about to step outside, someone crushes into his chest, pushing him back and shutting the door behind them.

He lets out a sigh of relief as the Guard presses his back to the door, holding it closed.

"That's not going to work."

"Please don't go out there!"

They speak at the same time, and Supervillain can't help the smirk that fights its way to his face. "Scared I'll harm your friends?"

"I'm scared they'll hurt you." His eyes are enormous as he stares up at Supervillain, who looks much healthier now. He looks alive. His skin is no longer grey, his lips and cheeks are coloured in pink hues, and even his eyes sparkle with new vigour. He takes hold of Guard's shoulders, pinning him further against the door to stabilise his shaking form.

"Stay here. Be quiet." The Guard shakes his head no, grasping Supervillain’s arms with an unspoken plea. Supervillain softens. "It's okay. I will keep you safe. I promise."

With that, he moves the Guard to the side and exits the cell, sitting down against the door – roles reversed from hours before. From time to time, the Guard hears people come and run the moment they spot Supervillain's menacing form.

It's only four hours later that the military arrives, clearing the area and arresting the surviving prisoners. As they bring order to the facility, checking floor after floor Supervillain opens the door. He is met by a tear-stained face and hard stare of his Guard. Supervillain huffs out a laugh and draws him into an embrace before pushing him out the door.

"Try not to forget me when you leave," he jokes half-heartedly, but the Guard shakes his head with surprising firmness.

"I will get you out of here no matter what it costs me."

He never steps foot in the prison again but manages to keep his oath three months later. When Supervillain exits the gates with release papers in hand, he does not expect to be met by a mixed bunch of his siblings and strangers who all seem to be acquainted. It's moments later that he notices another familiar face he failed to spot for lack of the usual uniform. He shakes his head with a cheeky smile and rushes towards the kindest people in his life.

Supervillain never has to endure silence or solitude again.

Alright, there's a lot to unpack here :) First of all, thank you for the wonderful request. It turned out longer than expected, as well as took me longer to finish, but then again, the idea deserved to be worked on. I enjoyed crafting this story immensly. So thanks for that as well. I know other writers have been doing the request too but avoided reading their stories to keep mine clear of influences.

I hope you enjoy this despite the delay. Once again, thank you! xo Sunny

Masterlist

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cat-astro-pick · 5 months

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𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝟎𝟏

𝑀𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝐸𝑧𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒊𝒃𝒍𝒆 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅, 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝟎𝟎

"Another love letter?"

"As always."

"..."

"Just kidding, this one's for you."

I remember that day. It wasn't because I was happy to receive my first love letter. It wasn't because the sun was shining through the window. It wasn't because I was in an unusually good mood. I don't remember the content of the letter. But I do remember. More than the emotion I felt when I peeled the sticker off the envelope, I distinctly remember the look on Ezreal's face as he nervously watched me read the letter.

Ezreal was glowing. As always, past, present, and even future... he would shine. If his end is not shaped by success, I will doubt it. Because it's that dang pretty. I don't just mean his dashing face. Ezreal's voice was exquisite. As I watched him run around on that stage, the white lights scrambling to illuminate his figure, all I could see was his silhouette. In his shadow, I watched him with sloppy, burning eyes. The fans went wild, and I watched the stage with bated breath. I couldn't smile as I locked eyes with him from the front row, seeing the splendor of his shiny green hair.

"Good on your show."

"How was it?"

"....You were good."

Not just you, but all of you, and that made me all the more miserable. I didn't bother to add an afterword. I pressed my cap down to avoid eye contact. I stared at the ground and tried to figure out what the hell these tangled emotions were. Objectively, it's inferiority complex. Subjectively, it was jealousy. They were ruthless emotions with no good feelings mixed in. That's what kept me alive. If I didn't envy others, I couldn't progress. The thought soon turned into an unhealthy obsession.

"..."

There were no words. Despite the silence, Ezreal casually sat down next to me without showing any sign of discomfort. As he fiddled with my hair, he tried not to look at my facial expression. Depression was overflowing, filling the waiting room.

"'Well, I should probably get going."

"Already?"

"You guys are having a party afterward."

"Can't you come with me?"

"...I'm not even Heartsteel, why would I go there."

I pressed a hand to the top of my still-shiny green hair. Ezreal's head was forced down. Thankfully, I didn't have to hide my expression. It was comfortable. I would gladly stop time if it meant the moment could continue.

"Rest well. Don't strain yourself."

His head came away from my hand. The hand that had been hot against his head, heated by the constant light, quickly turned cold. There was no human warmth to me now.

For being dismissed as a bunch of assholes, Heartsteel's popularity was through the roof. There was so much talk it made my head hurt. They could be seen and heard on the streets, and the goofy-looking Ezreal standing at the center of it all shone so beautifully in the lights. His handsome face shone brighter the more it was made up. I wore a hood over my eyes in case the light blinded me. I wasn't blinded, but something hot welled up inside my heart.

"...miserable."

I muttered. I don't even like the word miserable, but it was the only word that kept coming out of my mouth. It was horrible self-pity. I wasn't ready to admit it, even if it was true that my mind was so broken that I didn't know why I got out of bed every morning.

"Idiot..."

Just before entering house, I would go into a corner alley and light a cigarette. If anyone tried to argue with me, I was ready to punch them. As I held the cigarette in my mouth, I couldn't think about anything else, because all I could focus on was the burning tip, which reminded me of the fireworks I'd seen earlier. And then it hit me,

"I like the sound of your voice."

"...I shouldn't tell you not to quit, should I...?"

"...What if I want to hear you sing in the very future?"

The memories float away like shards of glass and sink into my heart. I wonder how much bleeding and scarring I'll have to endure before I can stop this crap.

I crushed my cigarette against the red brick. 'Vandalism' was scrawled in heavy marker, the graffiti caught my eye. I didn't have that kind of eccentric hobby, but sometimes, just sometimes, I thought about Ezreal's broken state. It wasn't a freakish fantasy. I've been there, done that to him before, and I don't expect it to happen again. I didn't want to break him down, but still, unknown emotions tangled and twined like tentacles, threatening to burst through my stomach and throat.

Being alone leaves me speechless. I stopped talking to myself three years ago. I stopped crying to music on the speakers like a madman. It was like a bomb dropped in the middle of my heart. The aftermath spread throughout my body. My heart didn't feel any pain, but my scalded throat was no longer singing a melodious song. By that time, Ezreal had made his one debut.

Everyone seemed to think he was a great solo singer. His songs could be heard all over the streets: at hangouts, awkwardly waiting at a cafe for my then-boyfriend who was half an hour late, on my way home right after breaking up with my shitty ex, I was forced to listen to Ezreal's songs over and over again. The voice in my ear was unmistakably my favorite, and it hurt like someone was making papier collé out of my heart. For the next few months, I used lousy family get-togethers as an excuse to avoid answering Ezreal's calls.

But Ezreal's success was short-lived. Ezreal's subsequent releases were so lackluster that it was difficult to believe he was the same guy who had one hit that destroyed me. It was the fault of a silly label that tried to monetize Ezreal's success. Eventually, his place as a rising star was taken by another young boy. No matter how I look at it, that guy wasn't even close to Ezreal's caliber. No matter which way I look at it. Ezreal, surrounded by paparazzi after being fired by his moronic agency, and me, smoking a cigarette in the corner of the room, unaware of what was happening, became even more distant. The story might have been different if it was me, not Sett, who saved Ezreal from being harassed by the paparazzi.

Despite that unfortunate past, Ezreal was ready to start a new group. I distinctly remember his drunken voice shouting that it was time to try something new. I didn't believe Ezreal. I didn't believe Ezreal, because it felt like Mental Gymnastics to chalk up his embarrassing mental state to a leap forward to try something new. But I decided to help him. Cause I figured if he was going to fail, he might as well have someone to lean on. ...But there was no room for me there either. Heartsteel was close to perfect. They could fight amongst themselves and do whatever the hell they wanted, but they were solid. The sun never set. Only the clouds moved on. I was the clouds, and they were the sun.

#ezreal #heartsteel ezreal #heartsteel x reader #heartsteel #lol #lol heartsteel #league of legends #league of legends x reader #lol x reader #ezreal x reader #lol fanfic #x reader #heart steel

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wesawbears · 2 months

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Cross posting here as well on A03, but here is my @aftg-mixtape gift for @foxywrites! I hope you enjoy!

Song was "Someone to You" by Banners, go listen!

It's a Tuesday when Neil gets the letter.

By all accounts, it’s a totally unremarkable Tuesday. He comes in from his morning run, hoodie pulled over his hair as the rain pounds the pavement with the same cadence as his feet. Neil wasn't personally so precious about his hair, but he could hear Andrew's voice in his head, telling him he was as bad as a dog, shaking water out all over the apartment.

He smirks to himself as he snatches the mail out of the box, trying to shield the paper from the elements and failing miserably. He closes the door with his foot as soon as he's inside, throwing his hood down to get the wet garment off as soon as possible.

“Don't-”

“Shake my hair.” Neil flashes a grin. “I know.”

Andrew throws him an unimpressed look from where he’s curled on the couch in his pajamas. “Hmm.”

“You're just mad because the rain woke you up.”

“What was in the mail?”

Neil snorts at Andrew's obvious deflection and shrugs, tearing the envelope open with his teeth. “Dunno.”

He scans over the page quickly, not used to getting a lot of mail. Most of his information is sent to him directly by his publicist, who had been warned by Wymack that Neil couldn't be trusted to check his email. She's one of the four people whose calls he knows he has to take when he sees their names come up on his phone. Everything else still takes at least two days for him to remember to respond to.

To anyone else, it would be a form letter, a quick piece of mail destined for the recycle bin. But Neil just stares at it.

“What,” Andrew repeats, more a demand than a question. He's sat up, face neutral but the line of tension in his shoulders makes it clear that he's curious of what Neil will do next, ready to pull him back from the edge if need be.

“It's a letter to renew my license,” Neil says simply.

Presumably, Andrew does the same math Neil just did. “Five years since you became a real boy.”

“Five years,” Neil echoes, still staring down at the paper. It's been long enough that his hand doesn't freeze on the page when he signs his name, that answering to it feels more like an automatic response than playing a part, but something about seeing it on such a boring piece of paper makes his breath catch.

You are going to be Neil from now until death.

He was Neil, and no one could take that away from him. When he first signed the piece of paper affirming that the jumble of letters on the page made up who he was, it had felt surreal, another dream that was held out to him but just out of reach. But now, it was the name on his lease, the name that displayed every time he took to the field. The name on the envelopes sent via mail forwarding to Andrew’s apartment every off season. It was his.

“Your reaction is what DMV employees dream about,” Andrew deadpans. “You should ask about a sponsorship.”

“Five years ago I wasn’t sure if I would be alive long enough to need to worry about things like this,” Neil answers. “I didn’t know if Ichirou would find me worth keeping around.”

Andrew’s jaw clenches at the mention of Neil’s deal, but he evidently decides against jabbing that wound for the time being. “Neil,” he says simply, letting it curl through the air. It’s matter of fact, but Neil loves the way his name sounds when Andrew says it, like it’s a fact as simple as gravity or the sunrise.

“Andrew,” he says back. He places the letter on the kitchen table, electing to join Andrew where he lounges on the couch. As he sits, he lets their legs press together, taking as much warmth as he can from Andrew while he’s still sleep warm.

“You need to shower,” Andrew says, but makes no move to push Neil away.

“In a minute.” Right now, he’s content to look his fill. Morning Andrew is a rare joy that only Neil really gets to appreciate.

He drifts off on Andrew’s shoulder, and neither of them move until the afternoon.

–

It takes a few weeks for Neil’s new license to come, after the annoying visit to the DMV to get the photo taken and fill out paperwork. When it does, Neil stares at it for a little too long, cataloging all the little changes that have happened in the last five years. It’s still him, just with a few more freckles, a little less glow. All around him, people are terrified of aging, but Neil relishes it. Wrinkles, the random gray hair from time to time, they all add up to something Neil never thought could be his. In its place is a different fear, the fear that comes from being a dead man walking for so long that he never imagined what the future could look like. Its a feeling he knows Andrew shares, the terrifying thrill of building something from scratch what had only been black and haze before.

The exy offseason isn’t long as a mostly year-round sport, but the summers are filled with him and Andrew and the road, getting in the Mas, picking a direction and driving until the sun is high in the sky. Driving with Andrew is as close to an answer to his questions that Neil feels he can get. There’s something about it that lets him live outside of time, where all that’s real is the next ten miles.

It’s one of those days that they stop at a diner in Kentucky, and Neil watches Andrew as he scrapes the toppings off a burger and mashes it together into some kind of burger salad, pouring hot sauce over it to top it off.

“What do you think about your name?”

The question rolls off of his tongue, and Andrew just tilts his head, staring at the jumble of ingredients like they’re a magic eight ball.

“It is my name.”

“Yeah, but do you like it?”

Andrew looks up at that. “I did not pick it out. It is a collection of syllables.”

“You know it’s more than that,” Neil says. “You told me once I didn’t look like my father’s name.”

“You didn’t,” Andrew says. “You look like Neil.”

It’s not that Neil wants him to change his name. Andrew suits him. But Neil knows the weight that comes with carrying the legacy of a family you didn’t choose, one that didn’t know you the way they were supposed to. For him to carry the last name of someone he barely knew- someone he was responsible for the death of- seemed like a lot of baggage to carry.

“Why did you keep your last name?”

With anyone else it would be a rude question, but Andrew has never balked at bluntness. He does, however, dodge questions he doesn’t want to answer, and he half expects another non-answer. Andrew doesn’t lie about things that matter, but Andrew’s definition of truth is absolute. He had to pick his questions carefully.

“Too much paperwork.”

“Andrew,” he says. Like with the keys, Neil knows Andrew well enough by now to know that he’s avoiding a truth that hurts. Neil won’t rub salt in the wound, but he knows how badly Andrew had wanted to be a Spear, and what it had cost for him to give that up. Names meant you were someone, but they could also mean you belonged to someone. And the idea of any part of Andrew belonging to some unnamed person who left his mother, or to Tilda even in the grave, burned Neil more than he dared to say.

“It is not as though there is anyone left but me and Aaron.” He moves his fork around, stirring intently. “I didn’t care about my name. Before I learned I had a brother.”

“And now?” Neil asks.

Andrew shrugs. “You hate your old name because you hated your father. I feel nothing toward Tilda. She was nothing to me.”

Neil cups his own cheek in his hand as he thinks. “For so long, I thought a name was a collar. But- it doesn’t have to be. You can belong with someone without belonging to them.”

“This is sounding more and more like a marriage proposal,” Andrew says, though his voice sounds curious rather than biting.

Neil shakes his head. “A marriage is just another deal.”

Andrew hums. “And taking someone’s name is known for being a strings-free attachment.”

“I didn’t say I wanted you to take my name. Just maybe that our names might go together.”

Andrew leans back. “You just renewed your license. Do you have some kind of paperwork fetish you never told me about?”

“I’m a math major, of course I do.”

Andrew huffs what Neil knows by now is a laugh. “There will always be more papers for you to sign your shiny name on then, junkie.”

Everyone called Andrew the possessive one, but Neil didn’t know what to call this itch below his skin, the desire not to keep Andrew for himself but for everyone to see that they fit and that Andrew was as permanent as Neil Josten. For Andrew to feel the same thing Neil did every time he put his name on paper.

To know that just as Neil had chosen himself, he had chosen Andrew too.

Andrew nudges his hand toward Neil’s, wrapping their pinkies together across the dingy table. “Names aren’t the only way to belong. I chose you and you chose me. Neither of us are going anywhere.”

It’s the certainty in his voice that calms Neil’s jackrabbit heart. There’s a part of him that leaps toward permanency, but Andrew is solid enough to remind him that he already has enough to hang on to.

Neil smiles, and they enjoy the silence until the plates are cleared and the sun is Neil’s favorite shade of orange. As they leave, he lets a smirk take over his face.

“How long do you think Kevin would yell at us for if we got tattoos?”

Andrew hums as he turns the ignition. “Might be interesting to find out.”

Three months later, Neil hangs up on Kevin at minute eleven.

#aftg mixtape #aftg #all for the game #andreil #tfc

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itskindofidontknow · 8 months

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What dreams know about love?

Chapter 3

Dream of The Endless/Morpheus x Love!OFC

Summary: The Queen of Love has grown used to the absence of her husband, the Dream King. After banning her from the Dreaming, they only saw each other when Morpheus summoned her for social or marital duties. He would go decades without calling for her, enamorated by a variety of mistresses. It broke Love's heart. Not that her husband cared. However, after being imprisioned for a century, The Dream King wants to regain his Queen's love. She doesn't believe him, not after centuries of neglect. The question is: Can dreams repair a broken heart?

Tag: Established relationship, arranged marriage, regency romance, eventual happy ending, angst, morpheus is a dick prepare to hate, love is eoster from west germanic mythology, typos are to be expected

"Why is she taking so long? " Elijah walked in circles impatient and worried for the Queen of Love. The cupid cursed himself for letting her go without company. Technically he couldn't stop her, but he regretted not being more convincing in persuading her not to go right away! Gods only know how awful Dream's humor might be.

" Will you please calm down? They are probably in each other's arms, making up for the lost time" The tall long figure with golden eyes and blond almost silver hair, joked while leaning against the pink wall in the small study room. He couldn’t deny he was enjoying seeing the cupid fussing over nothing. Dream and Love were stuck in a, ironically, loveless marriage, but the Emissary knew the Dream King was not villainous. He witnessed it first hand when Desire, the Emissary’s creator, set the marriage trap for his sibling. Morpheus could’ve killed Love before they exchanged vows, he could’ve freed himself, but he didn’t. The Emissary never understood why, after all Lady Love did not represent anything to him. Obviously Morpheus was aware of her existence and her well documented beauty, everyone was, but they never exchanged more than polite greetings.

“This is not funny.” Elijah didn’t even bother to look up, he knew the Emissary for over a century now, and just by his answer he could tell that the Emissary was having a fun little time watching his lover panic. Elijah loved the Emissary with all his heart, not that he would ever say it. After all, he knew Desire’s creatures treated love like leverage over an opponent. The cupid wasn’t stupid to give the Emissary the upperhand. So one could safely say, they were very fond of each other. But, every time there was a crisis, Elijah wanted to strangle him. The Emissary constantly jested at the most inappropriate times (like now), and would not take important matters (like this) seriously.

Right now, however, Elijah did not have the time to lecture his lover about times and places for jokes. " I should send a dove to Lucienne. Get me some paper." The Emissary raised an eyebrow "And ask what, exactly?” He cleared his throat imitating Elijah writing a letter “ 'Dear Lucienne, blessings from the Garden. How is the reunion? Is the whole palace staff blushing from hearing all the happy screams the Dream King is getting from our Queen? Tell me all the delicious details. May Love guide you, The Queen’s Lucienne'". The Emissary signed his invisible letter with the title the dreamfolk gave to Elijah (which he hated it).

The cupid ignores him, rolling his eyes and taking a deep breath, scanning through his desk looking for paper and a feather. "Something could've happened, you know. Don’t you remember the last time they saw each other?” It was a disaster in the Garden. The Queen was in such a miserable state, distraught, exasperated and resentful, that storms took over the whole kingdom, and anyone who got closer to the Queen, would have his eyes filled with tears, even if they did not want to weep. To feel the creator's emotions in such a way, was unprecedented. “ We don't know how he is, moodwise." Elijah's stopped, with a sudden realization "We should go to the Dreaming."

It didn’t matter how loony this idea sounded, Desire’s Emissary knew that when the brown haired cupid decided, he would do it. No matter, again, how stupid the idea was. And go to The Dreaming uninvited, with a probable quarrel coming, it was without a doubt the worst idea the Emissary has ever heard.

Elijah was devoted to the Love Queen, always worrying for her, for her safety, her happiness, and although he knew the Queen was perfectly capable of taking care of herself, and deep down aware that the Dream King wouldn't physically hurt her (Not the same could be said about emotional damage, since the king has done a number on his queen), Elijah knew how demanding and manipulative Morpheus could be, making Eoster feel guilty and responsible about a misery he was responsible to. Their marriage wasn't fair, never was. It killed Elijah seeing Eoster hiding her pain, something she became so proficient in hiding. The disappearance of Lord Morpheus came as a blessing in disguise for the lovefolk. Yes, their Queen was still stuck in a terrible marriage, but at least, he wasn’t around anymore. She now had some peace, some comfortable loneliness, away from the pain.

The Emissary stepped in front of Elijah grabbing his arms, stopping the cupid. Elijah was already grabbing his messenger bag, with determination in his eyes. The Emissary stared deep into his brown eyes, trying to fill some sense in such a heart-guided creature. "No we won't. Are you insane? If we dare to step in the Dreaming without invitation, Morpheus will have our heads. Especially mine." The Emissary pointed to the golden iris, in case Elijah had forgotten whose creation his lover was. " He might spare you, if Eoster, and I doubt it, is able to persuade him. But I am as good as dead. Besi-"

A knock on the door made the two of them fall silent, staring at the door, looking like two children misbehaving. They looked at each other. It wasn't Love, she never knocked. The Dream King never stood foot in the Garden. Both Elijah and the Emissary were in accord that even if he did, he wouldn't be knocking on doors. A second knock came. Both looking fearfully at the door, trying to silently impose to the other to open it and face whatever was on the other side. ' You open it!' Elijah mouthed to the Emissary who vividly shook his head, denying it. "This is your study, you open it!" The mute discussion continued until a third knock came. They made a ridiculous quick rock-paper-scissors game to which Elijah lost and went to open the door. They had no idea who it might be, but due to the current events, they doubt it would be good news.

" Ye- Lucienne?"

"How are you Elijah?" The librarian looked over her glasses to the brown haired young man, and to the study behind him. He standed still, blocking the entrance, and when he didn't invite her in, she slowly started to say "Are you not going to-" Elijah blinked twice before quickly making way for the woman, brushing off the shock.

Lucienne stood in the middle of the office, raising an eyebrow to the Emissary, taking notice of his golden pupils. He, on the other hand, made an extravagant courtesy, giving her a wink with a cheshire smile, to which she rolled her eyes "Lady Lucienne, blessings from the Garden" Elijah rolled his eyes and held himself not to sigh. "Emissary, leave us, please" the lover got up and danced his way out "It is time indeed that I celebrate the return of our dearest Dream K-" Elijah closed the door before he could finish, murmuring a 'sorry' to the librarian, offering her a seat. "Blessings from the Garden, Lucienne. It is such a joy our Lord Morpheus has returned." He said, no real meaning behind his words. Lucienne nodded with a brief polite smile. "Tea? We got an excellent lovers dance tea." Elijah offered while putting himself a cup. She raised her hand, thanking but denying. Elijah was dying to ask her a thousand questions, but professionalism wouldn't allow him.

"Has our Lady returned yet?" She asked. Elijah shook his head, it would be extremely abnormal if she returned and not met him immediately. "Well, then I will be the messenger of more than just one news.” She cleared her throat looking from her knees to the cupid, clearly uncomfortable “Lady Eoster and Lord Morpheus decided for new arrangements." And by that, she meant Dream decided and Love abided. As usual. Elijah noticed the librarian moving on her seat. "I see" the brown haired man said it encouraging her to continue, she took a deep breath before announcing "Lord Morpheus wishes Lady Eoster to move back to the Dreaming" Elijah blink, as the words the woman said were a foreign language he could not understand. "Pardon? For the night, you mean?" Sure it was what she meant. He just didn’t understand why Lucienne had to come all the way to inform him of that.

Actually he was probably way better versed in this than her. Since it was the cupid that in the next morning had to deal with a Queen pretending not to be hurt, rereading for the thousand time the same love stories of mortals that were faithful and devoted to each other, the ones that went through hell to be with their loved ones, the ones that lived everything she could never lived. Those were days devoid of music and poetry, with grayish melancholic skies . Elijah was sure Lucienne didn’t have the same problems in the Dreaming.

The night would probably require a new bridal nightgown (another problem Elijah knew Lucienne did not had), since the ones the king didn’t tear apart, the Queen burned. Especially the ones she got as honeymoon gifts. The cupid's thoughts turned to how he would find a seamstress in short notice who wasn't full of requests, since the Solstice festival was upon them. Of course, he could send a regular nightgown, but what if the Dream King took that as an insult? Poor Lady Eoster would be the one that would hear it.

Lucienne closed her eyes, gathering strength to explain to him. Elijah was a good cupid, but he often had too many questions and wanted too many explanations. "Lord Morpheus wishes Lady Eoster to be at his side, as husband and wife, king and queen, at the Dreaming. Not only for…" She kept struggling with the right words, after all, even for a royal librarian, it was extremely challenging to find the appropriate words to discuss intimate details of her king and queen marriage “ Marital duties”. She was definitely not cut for these types of arrangements and discussions.

Elijah kept looking at the woman, but could not manage to find answers. To avoid the awkward silence, she kept talking, maybe he was not aware of the politics of it, that in theory it wasn’t really a request. Lady Love didn’t have the option to deny her husband. "Since he is an Endless-" Elijah interrupted her abruptly, shaking his hand in dismissal "Yes, yes, I am aware of the politics of it all" He reclined in his chair, only to raise his back again, not able to stay quiet "Did he really said it?" She tilted her head. "Well, our Ladyship was the one who approached me, as instructed by Lord Morpheus, to make new arrangements.” He knew what the words meant, but it sounded like delusions of a crazy mortal. “Of course she did." He sighed.

Lucienne frowned, not sure if she liked his tone and what he was implying about her lord, but at the same time, could she blame the lovefolk for holding grudges against Lord Morpheus? “Lady Love requested that we both worked together to make the transition smoother.” Elijah frowned, “What transition?” Lady Love already had her private chambers in the Dreaming “The Garden’s court. They both agree that her court should accompany her to the Dreaming”. Elijah was speechless, and almost choked on his tea. “Also, the Solstice Festival." She gathered inner strength for she did not know how the cupid would react to this. The color of the cupid’s face was already gone with the court thing, and now the festival? Festivities were sacred in the Garden. To move or change them… Well, Lucienne could only hope that cupids’ hearts were strong. “Our Lady and Lordship want it to be held at the Dreaming. We also need to send invitations to the Endless siblings.”

First Elijah was speechless, and then he laughed. He laughed so hard tears got into his eyes. "You are a jester, Lucienne! Or is it the Emissary's work? For Love’s sake!” He was incredulous. “The court? His siblings?!" Thanks to his relationship with the Emissary he knew that Morpheus hated dealing with some of his siblings, especially Desire and Despair. To host them all under his realm during the Solstice Festival was unimaginable! Elijah couldn’t imagine him hosting a festival, laughing, dancing, enjoying any sight of happiness and joy, let alone being a gentle host to his family. Lucienne's face kept unchanged, with a slight discomfort. She would let his senses fall back into himself.

Slowly Elijah saw that Lucienne was not cracking with the joke nor did the Emissary returned mocking the cupid stupid shocked face. "You are not jesting." She nodded. " What happened to him? Is he really himself?" Elijah asked even if it was inappropriate. After all these years! Of course he thought it was a joke, that request was an insult! He deserved some answers, his queen deserved some answers! She sure would not get them from Morpheus. So it was his job to get them from Lucienne.

Would they just pretend that the years of misery did not exist?! Would she simply have to forgive the abuse, just because the Dream King is going through some middle life crisis and realized that maybe, just maybe, he should not be a dick to his own wife?! No, no, there must be some explanation, some reason to this. Cupids were not the most rational creatures, but for Love’s sake! To just accept this was delusional!

Lucienne didn't like to gossip, especially about her boss, but she knew the cupid, if she didn't give him some answers, he would not leave her be "I don't know for certain, and I should not tell you this, but our lordship was trapped by a mortal, for a hundred years. Jessamy, his raven, died. Many deserted the Dreaming." Elijah took a minute absorbing the information. An Endless captured by a mortal. A hundred years is nothing for them, but a hundred years away from his realm and his dreamfolk, unable to leave, ‘unable to cheat’ Elijah bitterly thought to himself. He pitied the souls of the fools who imprisoned him. They were going to wish for death.

The cupid took a minute digesting that information before clearing his throat " Then we must make haste." Unlike the Garden, Dreaming was not famous for hosting events. Elijah doubted it ever held one. "You must know, Lucienne, that the Solstice Festival is one of the most important events for our Lady and the lovefolk. It is the graduation of the senior ladies and lords in waiting, that came from different realms to learn the ways of the heart." Elijah didn't want to panic nor panic Lucienne, because it would not help, but perfection was imperative. Even after organizing it for centuries, it was always a handful. And by just imagining the next few weeks trying to fit all the arrangements in the Dreaming. Gods! His head was already aching. "I hope you had your rest over these hundred years, dear Lucienne, because we won't have much during the preparations. Follow me, please.” With a sudden jump, Elijah was at his feat, making his way through the door. Turning back to the woman “I am sure our lordship is a magnificent host, as you are in organizing events” Elijah politely said, even though it was a blatant lie, but, he didn’t want Lucienne to think the lovefolk took the dreamfolk as social incompetents (Although they were certainly of it) “But since festivities in the Garden have their own… Etiquette, you might want to take notes."

Lucienne however stood sit " There is one more thing, Elijah.'' He froze already at the door slowly turning to her. Shit. Did the Dream King sneak into his dreams and found out that he wasn't the most devoted subject of his? After being imprisoned by mortals, he sure would be in mood for revenge and eliminate traitors. Maybe Elijah was next. Maybe this was the reason Lucienne needed to learn how to organize the Solstice Festival, because Elijah would not be around. Could Lady Love stop him? "Lord Morpheus wants to see you."

Elijah raised his eyebrows in surprise. After all, the Dream King and he never exchanged more than what formalities required of them. It wasn't common for the right arms of entities to have close relationships with other entities. The Emissary was an ambassador from Desire to the Garden, but he was not close with Lady Love, he treated her with the respect her rank required, but nothing more. Lucienne and the Queen developed some kind of friendship, but neither Love or Lucienne ever forgot that Lucienne was Dream's right arm, not Love's.

" Any idea what this unexpected audience is about?" The woman raised herself and walked to the cupid. She signed and shrugs, honestly, Lucienne had no idea what her Lord wanted to discuss, after all he would be too busy rebuilding the Dreaming to arrange the Solstice Festival, so what was the need in talking to Elijah? Her shock when Dream asked for a meeting with the cupid was similar to Elijah's. “ I am not sure.” The woman paused, with her hands on her back, speaking with honesty “He is not the same, Elijah. He…” The librarian, even with her extensive knowledge of words, and complicated descriptions of feelings she read in the book of mortal’s lives, could not define how Morpheus had changed. But he was not the same King as before. “He changed”

That was not the first time the cupid had heard this. Only now, Lucienne was saying it, not his Queen. He couldn’t count the amount of times Lady Love grew full of hope believing her husband had changed his way. Elijah gave Lucienne a wary look “And did our lordship mention when this audience will be occurring?” Elijah was not convinced by this ‘changed-for-the-better’. The cupid doubted the raven’s haired King would ever be anything but stoic, cold and distant, incapable of giving Eoster the love she deserved. “He is going to summon you, after resolving some pressing matters.”. The brown haired cupid took everything in him not to ask what those ‘pressing matters’ were about, and simply nodded in agreement, before guiding Lucienne out of his study, and to the hallways.

He shook his head trying to ignore the itching of his curiosity. After all, he and Lucienne had many pressing matters that could not be disturbed by discussing possible character growths of the Endless. They had a festival, in a realm that never held one, to be organized. In one week. Gods may help them. Because damn well no Endless will.

#the sandman #the sandman fanfic #dream of the endless fanfic #morpheus x reader #morpheus x wife #morpheus x ofc #dream of the endless x reader #lord morpheus #eoster #queen of love #sandman netflix #what dreams know about love?

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jokatsuya · 1 year

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The day off

Sherlock x reader / Sherlock x Gn!reader

Wordcount: 1233

Warnings: none

Summary: Will (y/n) and Sherlock ever have the chance to enjoy a relaxing day with each other without being disturbed? Maybe. But not today.

A/n: The idea alone makes me grin like crazy. So have fun reading. Yours JoKatsuya

>>What time is it?<<, the quietly getting through words of the man below me tear me out of my thoughts. I must have drifted off a while ago. Still dreamy, I stretch as far as my current position in the tub will allow me and I can't hold back a satisfied sound.

>>Why?<<, I mumble softly, sliding deeper into the water again and positioning my back properly against his chest. Heavens, this is comfortable. I could stay like this forever.

>>Didn't you hear John? He announced himself so loudly, now probably all of Baker Street know he's there.<<, he asks as he pushes me forward a tiny bit to reach for his watch on the small side table. Don't move Sherlock.

Sleepily, I open one eye and turn my head to face him as best I can: >>Obviously not.<<

>>Sherlock?<<, I now hear John's voice as well and look towards the door, startled, my eyes now fully open.

>>God help you if the door is not locked.<<, I warn him now completely in my senses. Just the idea that John could see us like this... I don't even want to think about it any further.

>>Don't worry.<<, Sherlock replies with a calm hand gesture, making the mistake of looking me in the eye. That miserable liar. Now John's footsteps can be heard, slowly but surely approaching.

Looking at Sherlock in warning, I almost jump out of the tub and go to the closet to take out one of the bath towels. Hissing, I tell him to get out of the tub as well and to take care of the matter with the door.

At least putting on his pants, Sherlock finally stumbles to the door, slamming his elbow against something in the process. A hiss escapes from him. An admittedly very amusing sight, which is only made more amusing by the situation we find ourselves in.

I can't help giggling, which is why I hold a hand in front of my mouth, caught off guard. John shouldn't hear directly that we were here. At least not until I could at least cover my body properly. But that can't really do much after Sherlock's hiss. This reminds me of one of those cheesy romance movies. Apart from the fact, of course, that we'll probably be caught by John, the man who is shipped by a great many Sherlock Holmes fans with my boyfriend. Admittedly ironic.

>>What?<<, I ask innocently with a shrug, justifying the laughter before turning my attention back to the small cabinet in front of me.

My reaction ensures that I get one of those usual looks from him. That wrinkling of the eyebrows, the pursed lips, the questioning look with the touch of a grin. He knows perfectly well that I couldn't stay mad at him for long with that look. Yup, he's got me wrapped around his finger, but he's not getting off that easy now.

>>Sherlock, are you in the bathroom? We need to talk.<<

>>Do we have to John?<<, I hear Sherlock after a little clearing of his throat to continue in an old familiar tone of voice.

>>Yes. That's why we agreed to meet today?<<, John chimes in slightly irritated now just outside the door. At the same time you can hear his hand reaching the door handle. My pulse begins to race.

When I don't find any of the towels I'm looking for, I look at Sherlock in panic and whisper as quietly as possible: >>You should put the washed towels away again!<< At the same moment, a loud click pervades the room and I breathe a sigh of relief. With my lips I form a thank you in the direction of Sherlock.

>>Sherlock? What are you doing?<<, John gets upset on the other side of the door, trying to open it with a shake, but in vain.

>>Were we supposed to meet? I don't remember at all.<<, Sherlock returns, playfully unknowing, and leans against the door.

>>Yes, Sherlock.<<, John answers, trying to keep his tone calm. Wait, he had an appointment for today? I had written him ages ago in any calendar that I have today off, whereupon he meant to keep himself also completely free. With a raised eyebrow, I give Sherlock a wary glance. His seemingly innocent look around and avoidance of my gaze tells me exactly that he is only too well aware of his guilt.

>>Now open the door and come out.<<, another rattle. Sherlock's hand slides slowly to the knob, pausing briefly as he looks to me. Without taking my eyes from his, I slowly shake my head. He better not open that door. Why would he open it anyway? But what goes on in Sherlock Holmes' head stays in it far too often.

Suddenly Sherlock turns to the laundry basket and in the next instant takes out a completely rumpled shirt and throws it to me. And so another click sounds. He's in for a treat when this is behind us. Then he turns back to the door, which opens not even a second later.

In the corner of my eye, I notice Sherlock spread out and put a foot behind the door so John couldn't really see much. After today, Sherlock will never again undress me in a place we don't stay. Okay, that sounds weird, but the point of the statement is clear. Eager to proceed as quietly as possible, I pull the shirt apart. But who would have thought it? A corresponding noise is unavoidable. I freeze.

>>What was that?<<, John suddenly wants to know. Oh crap.

>>Nothing.<<, Sherlock replies as if shot out of a pistol and tries to push the door shut in John's face. Who would have thought that opening it would not be such a good idea? I roll my eyes.

>>Nothing? Let me in.<<, John states emphatically, placing his foot between the door frame and the closing door.

>>I'm naked.<<, the first thing that seems to have popped into Sherlock's head shoots out of the latter's mouth.

>>You have pants on, so let...<<

>>(Y/n) is naked.<<, it now escapes the curly-headed man's mouth, causing an uncomfortable pause on all sides. He didn't say that. In moments like these, I could really wring his neck.

>>(Y/n)? What does (y/... Naked?<<, the doctor tries to process the words he just heard. Rushing, I button up the crimson shirt and try to fix my still wet hair according to the circumstances. Take a deep breath (y/n), it's going to be okay.

>>Not anymore.<<, I awkwardly acknowledge and tiptoe past Sherlock and John toward the bedroom.

>>Hi, John.<<, I greet him quickly as I walk past him and look into his eyes for a brief moment. He had confusion written all over his face.

>>Hi...<<, he stutters to himself and makes room for me, his gaze suddenly on everything but me.

Putting my hands on my hips, I take a deep breath and lean my head against the cool wall as I close the door behind me. The thing was so absurd that I can't suppress a muffled laugh.

>>So...you two...?<<, I hear John ask as the men move toward the living room.

>>You wanted to talk about something else, right? Tea?<<, Sherlock tries to steer him away from the subject. This is going to be a long conversation with John when I get out.

If you want to be tagged, just write me at what.

Strictly do not: copy, claim or translate those stories of mine anywhere else

#Sherlock #Sherlock holmes #sherlock x reader #sherlock bbc #sherlock x y/n #sherlock x you #sherlock fic #sherlock fanfiction #benedict cumberbatch #Benedict Cumberbatch x y/n #Benedict Cumberbatch x you #Benedict Cumberbatch x reader #john watson #bbc #dr john watson #martin freeman #dr watson

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eashmo · 9 months

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7 minutes in hell, or is it heaven? Part 6

-Please Pick Up-

Warnings: eventual smut, fluff, and lots of angst. Billy is an extremely soft boyfriend to y/n

Love confession time from both sides!!!!!

In the Y/n pov, there are some quotes from some of my poetry work, so please enjoy and see how i'm such a hopeless romantic.

Also, it is set several weeks later from the last chapter, so there has been major secret friendship development. Felt if I wrote all that. It would have dragged.

~~~~~~~~~~~

*Billy's POV*

The lawn was trashed with empty kegs and red solo cups, toilet paper littered the trees and house, the smell of sweat, alcohol, weed and throw up was a stale scent everywhere I went while loud music seeps through every corner of the rooms.

Drunken students everywhere, some who I had never seen before making out with each other, random teenagers picking fights with each in the backyard and in the living room. I scoff.

I didn't want to be here. I would rather be with Y/n. Parties didn't feel the same after the last party with her, and her not being here it was boring.

Mumbling in disgust, I avoided people as I best I could, especially escaping from girls that try to throw themselves at me. While I was in thought, a junior bumps into me.

"Watch where you are going, you little shit," I angrily say as I grab his collar, lifting him off the ground with ease.

"S-s- sorry man, I didn't see you there." He says with fear in his eyes.

"Whoa now, Billy, give the loser a break and take a swig of this stuff that Heather brought." Tommy says as he come stumbling through the living room.

"Just don't do it again, nerd." I release him, and he fell to the floor.

"S-sorry again." He said as he ran for his life.

"Tommy, I'm gonna head out, I'm tired of this shit show." I say.

"Dude, you're drunk. You can't drive." He states.

"Fuck off I'll be fine I've done it before remember?" That was the last thing I say to him before I slam the front door.

The drive was longer than I thought. Maybe I should have sobered up some. I pulled to the side, noticing a payphone on the side of the road.

I was thinking about calling Tommy to come pick me up, but he was more inxoticated than I was, so I rang the next best person.

*RINGING*

"Hello?" A tired female voice spoke.

"I'm giving you a night call to tell you how I feel."

"Billy, are you drunk? What's wrong are you ok?" Her voice was filled with concern.

I shook my head like she could see it.

" Yes, I'm drunk, and no, I'm not ok, I have to tell you something that you don't want to hear.... I wanna be more than friends."

"Hargrove, where are you? Do you need me to pick you up? She asks.

"I'm at the old warehouse, but please let me get this out." I plead.

A small "ok" was only said.

"I need your hands on my body, I need your eyes only on me, I need your smell to engulf my senses, I need your lips on mine. I need to be with you physically and mentally. You're my breath. you're my lifeline in this miserable world. I swear my fucked up thoughts get calm when you stand by me. I feel your eyes on me all the time. The feeling always goes down my spin like electricity. Please tell me you will be mine. Tell me are more than overthinking stolen glances." I finally breathe.

*silence*

"We both know I'm just scared to really date you, but you have me mesmerized. I want to be yours." Was the last thing she said before I heard the dial tone.

*Y/N POV*

Hanging up, I run out of my room, almost killing myself on the stairs. Grabbing my dad's spare Ford Escort keys, I'll thank him later, but now is not the time.

"Love can sometimes be painful. Still, it was the only thing I had ever known when it came to him. All my love I had for him, the only person who gave me butterflies was him. Day and night, all I could think about was him. The only person I couldn't imagine my life without..... was forever him." I think to myself as tire screeched on asphalt.

"Please still be there, I'm going." I plead.

Turning the corner, i saw his Camaro still there. He was sitting on his hood with his head down.

"Thank god" I say.

Billy's head whipping up upon hearing my car, screeching to a stop. His eyes were wide when I tackle him to the ground. "Hmpf," he weezed.

Giggling a "sorry" while placing my thighs around his hips. We are lying in the soft grass.

"William Hargrove, let me explain... your hair, muscles, and body were never that I fell for you harder than before. Sure, they helped, but it was your personality that you've shown me these several weeks. The personality that lies beneath these ocean blue eyes, your captivating voice that melts my insides. The life behind your smile was the reason I fell in love with you all over again. It's like I'm walking into heaven when I see you." I say, breathing heavy.

"I love you, you asshole." I laugh.

Staring up at me, his grip on my thighs with his large hands tightened slightly with my words.

"I love you too, baby girl." His voice breathy as he leans up to capture my lips with his. The kiss was soft but slightly possessive.

"Will you be my girlfriend?" He officially asks.

Nodden my head shyly "yes"

"Use your words, princess." He smirks.

"Yes, I would love to be your girlfriend." I say.

He captures my lips once more, feeling the love pour into the kiss leaves me lightheaded.

As I got off of him I stuck my hand out for him to take. "Let's get you into bed, baby"

"Ugh, don't look at me like that, you idiot, you know what I mean." I scoff.

"Not my fault you look so good right now in your sleep clothes." He laughs as he heads to my car.

"He's unbelievable." I thought following behind him.

Previous Chapter

Part 7

Masterlist

2023

#Spotify #billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove stranger things #billy hargrove smut #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove #billy hargrove scenario #billy hargrove fluff #billy hargrove fanfiction #stranger things #dacre montgomery

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0san-ta0 · 7 hours

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I Wish I Could Forget About You| g. clarkey (Part 2)

synopsis ★ george and y/n have been on 'break' for a while, leaving them both miserable and reflective. when they finally meet again the heart finally gets what it wants.

pairing ★ fem!reader x george clarkey

author's notes ★ hi! hope you're having an amazing day/night! sorry for the long wait life's been pretty hectic but I hope you enjoy!! <33

it had been a month since you sat in your living room and watched george drag his stuff out of your apartment. you had to be honest with yourself, the first two weeks were hell. of course you had partially become accustomed to george not being around but, back then there was the tiny thought in the back of your mind that he would return to you. now as the days kept moving you started to think that maybe he never would be back. your time was made even worse as george hadn't stopped texting and calling the entire time and you were stupid enough to listen to his voicemails which left you in absolute shambles.

he begged you to take him back, he begged for you to atleast let him hear your voice or to atleast look at him. the day he left he returned to his shared apartment where he walked past his friends without as much as a hello and holed himself up in his room. the boys could feel the sadness emanating from him as his door slammed shut and they could only imagine what he had went through. george sat on the floor infront of his bed and cried, for the first time in years he let tears flow down his cheeks. he hadn't realised how badly he fucked up. how his actions towards you had hurt you so much. he didn't blame you for leaving, he couldn't blame you for leaving. but god, the two weeks were the worst he had ever had in his life. not being able to see your face, to touch your skin, to even just smell your perfume was driving him mad. coupled with the immense bullying he faced from all his friends after he relayed the events from the night before, his life was horrible.

both arthur's were your biggest advocates when george started ranting to them about your decision. they both had been big in reminding him that he needed to make sure that he was giving you adequate love and attention because you were amazing to him. now it was them drilling it into his head that in this case he was absolutely in the wrong and that all they could advise him was to apologise to you and try to take accountability. but it was hard to apologise when you refused to even read his texts. he needed to try though because without you it felt pointless living. after the second week he decided that he would give you space to think and process what was happening and honestly, he hated it even more than just being away from you.

from your perspective, you were equally or even more miserable. you were second guessing your decision, wishing only to kiss and make up with george. the voice in the back of your head reminding you that you need to stand your ground and get a decent relationship. putting aside your morals now, wasn't going to help the situation or get george to miraculously change his ways.

you spent your days wandering around your apartment rearranging everything, hoping it would erase the memories. but it only ended up being a sick joke as everything you touched made you remember george. the couch where he would lay in your lap whilst you watched your favourite movies or the kitchen where he would place you on the counter and kiss you senseless. you missed his you touch, his scent, his presence, you missed everything about him.

a knock sounded on your door and you turned your head to stare at it. a groan escapes your lips as you stand, sulking towards the door. leaning forward you look through the peephole and your eyes are met with a familiar head of blonde hair.

"y/n, please. I know you're there. I just....." he trails off taking a breath, "I just need to talk to you. please, I can't take it anymore."

his voice through the door was muffled but you could hear the hesitation in his voice. through the peephole you watched as his shoulders slumped and ran a hand through his hair.

before you have the time to register what you were doing, your hand reaches forward to unlock the door. outside george's head perks up and comes face to face with you. his eyes are bloodshot and puffy, his skin blotchy and red. your heart felt heavy as you stared at his disheveled appearance, regretting every decision she had made leading up to this moment.

he opened his mouth to speak but before he could say a word you put up your hand to stop him. "george?" was all she could muster before you felt tears threatening to fall again.

"sorry for showing up unannounced. I just really needed to see you, honestly life's been horrid without you. and I know that you leaving was all my doing but all I need is a minute of your time to apologise. if after that you don't want to take me back then that's fine but please just listen." he sputters out, eyes burning into yours.

you give him a simple nod of your head and he continues. "I've spent the past few weeks listening to arthur giving me shit about how I acted towards you and I can tell you now that the way I acted towards you was absolutely disgusting. you have every right to hate me but I just need you to know that I'm sorry. and I know that sorry can't even begin to fix what we had but i just need you to know that I understand what I did and I promise to you that I will never ever let you become a second place in my life. I promise that if you forgive me that I will never ever take you for granted again because being without you has been the worst experience of my life and I never wish to experience.."

then your resolve snapped and all you could do was lean forward to press your lips to his, effectively cutting off his rant. his arms snacked around your waist and your arms found their way to his shoulders. you'd missed moments like these, moments where it felt like you were the only two people in the world, where you felt like wanted and needed.

pulling away you stared into his eyes for a brief moment. "I missed you too george. But, if you think for a moment that I will ever let you hurt me again and be as forgiving as I am now then you're sorely mistaken."

he gazed at her, nodding quickly, "thank you for giving me another chance. you have nothing to worry about and If you ever believe that I'm not loving you enough then you can leave, no questions asked."

#george clarkey #x reader #chaos crew #george clarkey imagine #george clarkey x reader #fluff

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lenores-2nd-wife · 10 months

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Pairing: Lenore Vandernacht x F!Reader

Info: Very self-indulgent oneshot. I find lovers kissing and spending time together in a forest very appealing. Especially a forest that has a gloomy atmosphere and rain. The reader is delulu.

You lay in the middle of the rain-soaked forest, gazing at the sight of the lush green leaves glistening in the hard rain. As the drops continue to fall, you take a deep breath of the cool, moist air and hear the faint rumbling of thunder in the distance. Being in such a state was far from healthy. You knew this, but you couldn't find yourself moving.

As you finally sit up and look around, you feel a presence behind you. You knew it was of course Lenore. Who else would be crazy enough to come looking for you in such weather, or in such a place. You look over your shoulder to glance at her face. She was drenched in the rain and leaning against a tree, a small smirk painted on her lips. Her short hair sticks to her face, framing it in a way that makes her unfairly handsome considering how you must be looking in comparison. Without a word, she comes closer and wraps her arms around you, holding you tightly getting on the forest floor as well.

You both had to be deranged. Not that you cared of course, since you were quite set on having this woman all to yourself that day. Her lips were like liquid fire as they brushed against yours. You savor the taste of her and passionately kiss back, completely ignoring everything around you. She pulls you closer and you can feel the warmth radiating through both of your wet clothes. She smiles against your lips, and you knew very well that meant trouble.

Lenore finally pulls away from the kiss, her lips still lingering on yours. She looks down at you with a mischievous glint in her eye and shakes her head gently. "What were you thinking running off like this? Do you have any idea how dangerous it was to be out here in such ghastly weather?" She asked, her voice dripping with playfulness. You simply flushed and looked in the other direction, refusing to answer any of her questions.

Lenore, still on top of you, leaned down and kissed your neck. Her lips felt like a soothing balm against your skin, and you could feel the tension in your body slowly start to melt away. You sighed contentedly and rolled over so that you were facing her. She looked down at you with an amused expression, clearly enjoying this game of cat and mouse. You tried to look serious but failed miserably since Lenore's smile was infectious.

"Can we get you of the mud now? You're dress is ruined. Or would you like the two of us to catch a cold out here for a few more minutes?"

You reluctantly agree, nodding, and get out of the mud, still looking a bit upset about having to leave the forest. Lenore takes your hand as you both slowly make your way back to reality. Walking through the rain-soaked trees, you take in all the beauty that this forest has to offer. You feel like you're vision was getting hazy and you try to remember how you got there in the first place.

"Lenore, where are we?" You ask hesitantly.

"I haven't a clue really, your guess is better than mine." Lenore stops and looks around. She seemed just as confused as you were, her eyes growing ever wider as the seconds passed. Before either of you could say another word, everything around you shifts and suddenly you find yourself back in your dorm room. You blink a few times, trying to make sense of what had just happened. You look down at yourself and see you're still wearing soaked clothes from when you had gone out into the forest earlier in the day.

You groan in frustration, realizing that it had all been a dream. The forest was nothing more than an illusion created by your own mind. Your heart sinks, a weighty stone in your chest as you come to the realization that the only way you can have Lenore all to yourself is in a dream. You lay back down on your bed and sigh heavily, feeling utterly disappointed that it had all been for nothing. You close your eyes and try to remember the details of the dream, imprinting them into your memory so that you can revisit this moment again someday when life, or the afterlife rather, seems too mundane and dull.

#lenore vandernacth #x reader #forest setting #I just love lenore #yes i am obsessed #I wrote this for myself in all honesty #Lenore can get it /pos #The reader is delusional...like me #Lenore is so fine #lenore nevermore #lenore vandernacht x reader

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milkytheholy1 · 2 years

Text

Warming Up To You: Part 2

A/N: I'm not particularly happy with this chapter, it feels very OOC and the events feel rushed. Every time I went back to change it, I'd re-read it and feel like the chapter flowed very naturally. So, hopefully the next one will be a little better quality. Enjoy!

Read part 1 here. Ultimate masterlist

_______________________________________________

It had been a few days since you first encountered Shadow, and yet your mind couldn't stop thinking about him. You knew you were going to go back to that dingy-looking cave, you really doubt he'd do anything to you.

Sure, he promised he would but that just felt like he was keeping up some tough-guy appearance. Even though you've had one interaction with the guy you already knew it would be a great friendship. You liked to think you were a good judge of character, that you could guess how your chemistry with someone would go before you've ever met them.

And Shadow was no different.

So, when the sun started to set you grabbed a bag with a few snacks and set off back into the jungle. You tried your hardest to remember the exact route you took originally, spotting some areas you vividly recognised. It had taken roughly an hour to find the odd-looking cave, sat all alone on the horizon.

By now the sun had already set, the deep blues of the night sky were all you could see. You slowly wandered out of the trees, prepared for any tree tackling this time, yet nothing came. You suddenly felt uneasy, you'd much prefer being shoved into a tree than the emptiness of the land.

Slowly, you tracked closer and closer to the cave. You debated on calling out his name but decided against it, what if he didn't live here at all? Maybe Tails' information was wrong, what if something much worse than an edgy hedgy resided in that cave and you shouting out Shadow's name alerts it.

You liked to think you were a decent runner but with some big, scary monster behind you...you didn't like your chances. Once at the entrance, you whispered his name, hearing your voice echo along the walls; it seemed to go on forever.

Your hands were braced against the cave's walls, head popping over the side to take quick peeks into the inky abyss. This was much scarier at night, why the hell would you decide to do this at night?

Your humble frame moved outward, now stood in the elements. The cave's entrance seemed to move for you, perhaps your mind was playing tricks on you. You'd never felt this nervous in your life, well besides that one time at city hall but that doesn't count.

You placed one foot into the darkness, somehow the cave felt way colder than the outside world. You felt a shiver traverse up your spine, eliciting goosebumps along your arms and legs, "I can do this, I can do this, I can do this." you repeated to yourself like a mantra.

"What are you doing here, again?" a deep voice startled you, your insides flipped and your skin paled. You jumped around, eyes wide and mouth open, that was until you saw Shadow with a deep frown.

"S-shad- Oh my god, you scared me!" you huffed out, panting to regain your breath. The black and red hedgehog didn't look amused, his arms were folded across his chest, the same old miserable look in his eyes.

"I thought I told you to never return," he gruffed out. You swallowed nervously, maybe this was a bad idea.

"I wanted to see you again," you whispered out, hands flying to your mouth to silence yourself. Did your mouth just betray you?

Shadow quirked a brow at the response, clearly, he wasn't expecting that for an answer.

"Why?" Your gaze fell from him to the floor, shuffling your feet around like a child being told off. You couldn't fully answer that one word, that one question that had stumped you for the past few nights.

Why did you want to see Shadow the Hedgehog again? Why did you feel such chemistry with him after one single chat? Why was your heart beating so fast every time you thought about him? Why were you thinking about him so much?

Your face bloomed pink, you could feel his stare on you and that made your cheeks darken.

"You interest me," is all you said, trying to be as vague as possible. He stepped towards you, minimising the gap, "I don't believe you," boy this guy was stubborn.

"W-why not?" you became defensive, there was no way on the second time meeting this guy would you say you felt something for him. You barely knew him, hell you can't even remember if you told him your name.

"I have a great perception of lies and I am highly skilled in interrogation techniques. So, yes, I can tell you're lying," he smirked, too smug with himself.

"Oh," you huffed, "Well, I guess that training was for nothing because I'm not lying." you stood your ground, copying his mannerisms and folding your arms. For a brief moment, you thought you saw him smirk, "You're lying about lying."

You wanted to laugh at the very true and very real statement, but you couldn't let him win that easily, "I've never lied in my life, ask my nana; she'll tell you I'm a saint."

Shadow leaned in close, your noses lightly touching. You could feel his piercing gaze, you felt like he was trying to read your mind. If this is something they taught him then it was a weird way to go about getting information.

"Maybe I will," he smirked, he actually smiled! It wasn't just a weird nervous twitch or something! He can actually move his mouth upwards!

"She'd love to have you around for dinner," you mused, teasing him just like he was teasing you. Only your second encounter and you're both back to mercilessly flirting with each other, iconic if you ask me.

Shadow pulled away, happy with the bright red that littered your face, "She wouldn't have someone like me in her home, those rodents don't like me in their village never mind their personal property."

That made you frown, so far you haven't seen this so-called evil Shadow everyone seems so frightened of. He just seems like a nice guy who likes his own space and is a little misunderstood, "You're not as evil as people say you are."

"No, I'm much worse." he cursed out, turning to his cave and waltzing in, "You should leave, it's getting late."

"Aw, are you concerned about me, Shadow?" you teased, still standing by the entrance, the moon's natural light illuminating the outline of your body. Shadow turned to look at you, "No, I just don't want you dying in front of my cave."

He carried on walking, hearing footsteps echo his own, "What are you doing?" he sighed out like a tired dad. He turned around to see you beside him, a small grin on your face, "It's too late for me to be out, like you said. And It's such a long journey back, I fear I might not make it." you feigned innocence.

Shadow growled under his breath, "What makes you think it's any safer in here with me than out there?" if he was trying to scare you then it wasn't working. You think he saw this in the way your brows furrowed with determination, you've met a couple of Gogobas, you knew how to guilt people.

"Well, I just don't know what lies in the jungle. But, if you want me to get mauled to death or kidnapped, then so be it." you batted your eyes at him, trying your best to appear weak and defenceless. You could see Shadow lost in his own mind, staring blankly at you while he thought deeply.

"Fine!" he groaned out, pinching his brow bone, "But I won't be enjoying this."

While you were setting up a fire, Shadow approached you, he threw some cloth on your head, "Here." He sat down near you, not enough to soothe your rushing mind though. You greedily took the blanket, wrapping it around yourself while the fire kept your face warm.

It had been a few hours since you had entered Shadow's cave, the night had managed to get darker and with it brought the cold. The fire was still raging on, Shadow would keep feeding it every so often while you slept. A small noise caught his attention, he quickly found that it came from your sleeping form, you were cold.

He would have left it, but the sound of your teeth chattering annoyed him too much; at least, that's what he reasoned. He slipped beside you, apprehensively wrapping an arm and a leg around you and dragging you into his warmth. You awoke, loosely aware of your surroundings, "S-shad-dow?" you mumbled out.

"Not a word of this to anyone," he murmured, feeling you snuggle further into him for warmth.

#shadow the ultimate lifeform #shadow x reader #boom shadow #shadow the hedgehog #shadow #sonic #sonic boom #boom!sonic #fandom #fanfic #fan #fanfiction #oneshot #reader #fluff #boom!shadowxreader #boom!knuckles #boom!amy

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kazutora-lover · 1 year

Text

Title: Defeated (Part 3)

Imaushi Wakasa x secretary!fem!reader

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Genre: fluff, angst, 'friends' -» 'enemies' -» lovers

Summary: working in your boss's gym as his secretary, just why did he always have to put up a fight?

Notes: I'm sorry I took so long to update but here is for you, freshly baked, the last part of this mini-series. Thank you for showing so much love and attention. Love you guys~

Word count: ≈ 2.2k

|| Previous part || Series Masterlist

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After Shinichiro sent that sneaky message to Wakasa, he took you to his shop. He still had some work to finish and made Mikey come over as well, promising to buy him Taiyaki if he helped him with some bike problems he couldn't solve alone.

If anything, he didn't want to solve them alone because he wanted to finish up earlier. For your sake.

While you watched Shinichiro and Mikey work and tinker away, you thought about everything that had happened in the past days. It was tiring, you missed Wakasa.

And after a while, as it was too quiet in the shop for everyone's liking, Shinichiro told you something you would've never expected.

"Do you have any idea why Waka is acting the way he is, y/n?"

You hummed in thought, the uneasy feeling slowly creeping back, "No, not really. But I suppose you do?"

"Sure do, but please don't tell him that I told you. He'd try to kick me into oblivion again." He said, sighing deeply as he remembered the last time he received that one powerful kick from Waka for snitching on him.

Mikey cackled at his brothers misery and you could also only chuckle in response, "it's not like I'm going to talk to him any time soon anyway."

Shinichiro took a deep breath as to prepare himself and then took a look at you to see if you were listening. "First of all, he really likes you you know? He's so smitten by you it's unbelievable."

His answer made you scoff. "Please just keep listening y/n. Afterwards you can still decide if you're ready to approach him again or not."

In your eyes, Shin was so damn lucky that you had a soft spot for him, because you just couldn't deny him anything. "Okay, I'm listening but only because it's you who's telling me this."

Shin shot you a smile that showed that he understood you before he continued. "Did he ever tell you about his ex-girlfriend?

You shook your head, "No."

"I think Waka being hard on you and himself was caused by her. She's the reason he refuses to be happy again, even if he deserves it."

Now you were intrigued, who would've thought that there was indeed something deeper behind it all. You started to feel bad but on the other hand, why didn't he talk to you?

"I see the look in your eyes y/n, but it's not your fault. You didn't know and you couldn't possibly have known." Then he continued, "After months of Waka dating her, we found out that she had only dated him for his looks. She always praised his physique when she went out with her friends. Hell, she only ever took him with her once she needed validation from others. It was her horrible way of showing everyone else how lucky and how much better she was than everyone else. It was so ugly to look at, believe me."

By now, you had the biggest look of displeasure and disbelief on your face and Mikey felt, you guys needed more privacy. So he excused himself, "I'm going back to Grandpa, Emma and Izana. Call me, should you need my help again." And then he waved goodbye as he left.

Shin had noticed the visible discomfort you displayed and asked, "Are you ready to hear the rest or should we take a break?"

Again, you shook your head, wanting to understand Waka's intentions more. "I'm ready to hear whatever you have to tell me."

And with that, Shinichiro continued to tell you about everything that had happened to Wakasa in the past. From the way his ex-girlfriend slowly grew jealous of the boys, to her making Waka feel miserable about it. Her basically gaslighting him into spending less time with his friends and more time with her. More and more.

Meanwhile at a different place, Takeomi took his time to talk to Wakasa, as he deemed it to be very necessary.

"Waka, I know you're afraid to commit again because of the things 'she' did but pushing y/n away is not what you should be doing."

Said man groaned in annoyance, for one because he knew that he shouldn't be doing that but also because he was slightly annoyed about Takeomi's approach.

"Since when are you so responsible, hmm? You're so deep in my business but shouldn't you be helping your siblings? Shouldn't you be taking care of them?"

But the little outburst didn't impress Takeomi in the slightest. He knew Waka didn't mean any harm. "You can come at me all you want but you know that I'm right."

Takeomi lit up another cigarette as he continued, "You know that y/n is nowhere near like she was, right? Especially you should know that."

A few days had passed after your talk with Shin and Waka's talk with Takeomi. You hadn't heard anything from Wakasa at all, it grew pretty quiet around you.

Your guys' friends had enough of your shenanigans so they did what everyone would've done. They invited you to meet up with them.

Shinichiro had asked both you and Waka separately to come to Benkei's apartment to hang out like you did a few weeks ago. Neither you nor Waka could've known what they had in store for you guys.

Just as you made your way into the apartment, you got shoved into the living room. "We're tired of you two avoiding each other. You guys better start talking. About everything."

And with that they left the two of you alone, locking the apartment door so that the two of you couldn't excape.

You guys sat in each others company in awkward silence before you cleared your throat. You didn't even notice the way Waka was already looking at you, intensely at that. He practically burned to say something.

And then it happened. The both of you started to speak at the same time.

"I'm sorry."

Waka was confused as to why you apologized. He was hesitant and pondered a little bit but boldly embraced you in his arms after his nervousness subsided.

You would be lying if you said it didn't take you by surprise but you eventually wrapped your arms around him as well.

No words were exchanged, it was just the two of you hugging each other as you basked in each other's warmth.

The both of you were reluctant to let go of the other and you were dreading the exchange of words afterwards. But to your surprise, there was nothing to dread.

"I miss you" he said, with his eyes ever so soft. You watched him and he continued.

"I know that what I did was idiotic and I treated you like shit." That earned him a little snort and a "sure did" but he didn't stop, "There wasn't a day I didn't think of you. The day I saw your resignation letter I knew that I fucked up. Shin and Takeomi were the ones to make me realize how important you are to me, that you are the reason I have won in this life."

Your expression shifted, softening after every word he spoke. This man would surely be at fault for your first ever heart attack.

"I- Waka-" but he didn't let you finish.

A big sigh escaped his lips and he continued "I could never hate or dislike you, I was afraid of my own feelings for you, afraid of my past and afraid what would happen if I committed to you completely." And then he took your hand in his surprisingly warm ones.

"After I found out that you feel the same way for me, I feared that I pushed you away too far."

This time you interrupted him but not without taking ahold of his other hand, hoping to show him that you wouldn't leave.

With a voice ever so soft you asked, "You knew about my feelings for you?"

You saw his eyes widen for a second before he sheepishly answered "... Having you around always felt so natural to me that I didn't come to this realization alone. Takeomi eventually told me, he called us gross for acting like a couple even though we weren't one and when I asked him why he would think that, he let it slip that you are 'unmistakably' in love with me. He called me an idiot for not realizing it sooner."

The warmth and nervousness that crept up your face didn't go unnoticed by him but he continued, a little smile now gracing his features, "I didn't believe him at first but then I thought of the past events and then it hit me."

You on the other hand were at a loss of words by now, not exactly knowing how to answer him, but you tried.

"I feel called out and I don't know if I appreciate that." He had a look of hope in his eyes and soon after a little chuckle followed. "But that's okay because Shin told me about your feelings too, you might want to thank him because he made me be less mad at you."

With that he scoffed but presented you the warmest smile you've seen in a while.

You copied his actions and Waka swore he finally felt at ease. "I should have communicated my feelings from the very beginning but I guess I had to be stupid first to realize that you're the woman I would love to spend the rest of my life with."

"Are you proposing to me without me agreeing to be your girlfriend first?"

Wakasa laughed at your attempt to make fun of him but countered nonetheless, "Did you mean best friend?"

The grin he had on his face now made you more than happy and you knew he was joking but you still wanted to get back at him so you stood up, your sudden movement startling him as your hands slipped out of his.

You would be stupid to think he would let you go ever again. Said man pulled you back in and hugged you from behind, successfully preventing you from fake escaping.

He placed his head on your left shoulder and whispered, "Be my girlfriend?"

Unromantic as you can be, you retorted, "Is that an order?

The whine that slipped past his lips made you want to tease him more. Who knows when you'll get hear it again but you decided to play nice.

Wrapping your arms around his which were comfortably draped around your waist, you said, "I'm yours Waka."

Your now boyfriend snuggled even closer into you after hearing your answer.

"Thank you for giving me a chance."

With that you slowly turned around in his embrace, moved your hands up and took ahold of his face. His purple eyes showed nothing but love and adoration for you and with that you leaned in, a sweet sweet peck being placed on his lips by no one other than yourself.

The both of you sat down together soon after, snuggling up against each other on the sofa as you shared a blanket.

"As happy as I am to finally have you by my side, I think I want to teach Takeomi a lesson for snitching on me."

You felt Wakasa's head move on your shoulder, he was shaking his head. "Take it easy on him princess, him having to watch us is enough."

The thought of Takeomi and Shin whining about Waka and you being all about each other surely amused you.

The rest of the evening ended with you guys ordering some takeout and watching some movies. The two of you eventually fell asleep with you cuddled up on top of Wakasa.

Bonus:

The day you entered the gym again to go to work, you heard snickering from your friends.

Wanting to know what the commotion was about, you made your way over to them only to find out that your idiot friends took pictures of you and Waka sleeping. Maybe it wasn't the best idea to fall asleep at Benkei's place.

Later on when you came out of your office, you searched for Takeomi. "Instead of snapping pictures of my boyfriend and me, you could've tried to do the paperwork properly."

"You've been working here for a few days and are already so demanding."

"Shut it old man, don't even try me."

The giggling and laughing intensified behind you guys. These idiots were enjoying this. But your boyfriend, your boyfriend looked at you with the utmost amount of love.

You defeated the demons he couldn't drown alone and his insecurities were long forgotten with you finally by his side.

He was yours and you were his.

The End ~

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #black dragons #wakasa imaushi #shinichiro sano #takeomi akashi #arashi keizou #wakasa imaushi x reader #wakasa x reader #wakasa imaushi fluff #kazutora-lover

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