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judeswhore · 1 year

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hell is when i fight with you; jude bellingham

summary: you might be in the middle of a fight but jude can’t let you leave without saying he loves you

pairing: jude bellingham x fem!reader

warnings: angst? idk actually

notes: you can find my masterlist here. this is for my number 1 fan who absolutely cannot stand my work💅🏻

jude was in the kitchen when you went to grab your coffee, his back to you while he fiddled with the loaf of bread. you knew he knew you were there, his shoulders had tensed the second you’d walked through the door, a momentary pause in his movements but he didn’t turn around. not that you wanted him to, you were sure your dwindling anger would only return if you met his gaze. it had been almost three hours since you’d last spoken a word to each other and the tension in the room was almost suffocating.

thankfully the coffee machine was on the other side of the room, offering you well wanted space between you and your boyfriend, the kitchen island a physical buffer between the two of you. waiting for the machine to kick in you could hear jude shuffling around, his sock clad feet quiet against the floor.

“what time will you be back?”

“six.” silence followed, seeming even louder than before but again, neither of you rushed to fill it. the coffee machine spluttered. jude coughed and let the bin lid fall with a clatter. someone’s car backfired a few streets over. somewhere in the very back of your mind you knew you were both being petty. the argument wasn’t over anything serious, it was silly in retrospect but you were stubborn, jude even more so, therefore the likelihood of a civilised conversation before you left for work was unlikely.

you felt his heat against your back before he’d actually stepped up behind you, your body attuned to his every move but you remained still and quiet, even when his hand appeared in front of you. his chest was warm against your shoulder, the scent of his shower gel and aftershave washing over you in an unwanted comforting wave. he dropped a freshly made box of sandwiches and fruit in front of you.

“make sure you eat this,” there was still a hard edge to his voice, gruff around the edges and forced out around a scowl. he hesitated for only a moment, a second of waiting to see if you had anything to say but all he got was a noncommittal hum in reply. you knew he was rolling his eyes. the coffee finished pouring and again the flat was completely silent.

jude’s lips found your temple, soft and warm, lingered a little longer than necessary before he was stepping back, cold flooding your side in an instant. his kiss, however brief, had made your heart jump, heat curling low in your tummy but you still didn’t lift your eyes to his, intent on standing your ground. he was already halfway across the kitchen before he spoke again, the words low and just edging on passive aggressive, enough so that you turned to glower at him.

“i love you, be safe.” he didn’t give you chance to return the admission or to fight it and his tone, simply left without a second glance back. all you could do was huff, shoving your lunch into your bag, fixing the lid on your flask all the while muttering under your breath about that “awful stubborn man”. you weren’t sure what you were most annoyed about. that he’d made you lunch as if you couldn’t yourself, at the tone of his voice or that fact he hadn’t let you tell him you loved him too. you decided on all three as you headed for the door.

you thought about slamming it behind you but you weren’t that childish and so instead you wrestled your phone from the bottom of your bag, pulling up his contact as you headed down onto the street. you might be fighting and you might just slightly think he’s an idiot but that didn’t lessen your real feelings for him and clearly jude felt the same. you sent the text before putting him individually on do not disturb, content with leaving it at that.

i love you too.

jude could sense something was off (other than your obvious argument) the second you stepped through the door, feet half stomping across the floor into the bedroom. you’d kicked your shoes off in the hallway, hung your coat on the rack but you half launched your bag down onto the chair in front of the dresser in a huff. he was sprawled on the bed, feet crossed at the ankles, phone in hand but he paused his scroll through tiktok in favour of watching you trudge into the adjoining bathroom.

it was dark in the room but jude caught sight of your face, pinched and drawn in, eyes dull and a little heavy and something inside of him lurched when he realised you might have been crying. you looked exhausted, weary and warn out and that one expression had all previous thoughts of fighting out of the window. he was quick in clambering from the bed, following you into the en suite where he watched you pull out your face cleansers. he’d been right about the crying, your eyes were still glassy.

“baby,” you jumped, dropped the face wash with a clatter into the sink and your gaze met his through the mirror with a tired and only half withering scowl. when you made no effort to answer, jude shuffled forward, hands sliding around your waist, curling tight around you as he pressed a soft kiss to the side of your head. “hey, what’s up?”

“nothin’”

“don’t give me that, why’ve you been crying?”

“i haven’t,” you wriggled free of his grip, batting his hands away from you so you could pick the fallen cleanser back up. “i poked myself in the eye.” he was having none of that, the feeling of guilt and unease only getting heavier in his chest over thoughts that you’d been crying because of him. his fingers curled around yours and he tugged, shushing your complaints with a shake of his head.

with a huff you went quiet, let him guide you to the bed where he settled back into his old spot, pulled you until you were between his open legs, head against his chest. despite your early protests the second he settled you against him you relaxed, wrapped your arms around his waist and tucked your nose away in the soft cotton of his shirt. the second you were tangled together it was like your earlier fight had never happened, the need to be the one to hold out the silent treatment the longest completely disregarded.

jude brushed a hand over the back of your head.

“what happened?”

“nothing, honestly, i just- it was just a bad day.” he stayed quiet for a couple of seconds, knowing that wasn’t the end and you’d carry on. you pressed closer to him, slipped one hand under his shirt to seek comfort in the warmth of his skin and heaved a sigh. “everything went wrong, everything! during my lunch break i spilt coffee all over my paperwork and then i got yelled at because they were ruined. and on my way home it started raining and i dropped my phone because my hands were slippery and the screen cracked and i couldn’t call you because now it won’t work.”

“hey,” jude’s voice was soft, his hand rubbing comfortingly along the length of your arm, his head dipping so he could press a long kiss to the crown of your head. he left his lips there even as he spoke. “i’m sorry you got yelled at, baby, but the paperwork is digital too right?” you gave a small nod. “so you can just reprint, whoever yelled at you should’ve known that and should treat their employees with a bit more respect, we all make mistakes.”

“but-“

“no, no buts,” he brushed his hand across your jaw when you turned so your cheek was pressed to his chest, ran his thumb under your eye to clear the fallen tears. he wasn’t sure when you’d started crying again but it tugged painfully at his heart, his brow crinkling even as he nuzzled into your hairline. “and we can fix your phone, tomorrow, i’ll take it into town and get someone to look at the screen, okay?”

he kissed your forehead before tapping his fingers under your chin, urging you to lift your head to look at him. it took a few seconds, your sniffles and slightly hitched breaths the only sound in the room, but when you did jude slipped his hand along your jaw. your bottom lip wobbled when he brushed away a few more tears.

“and i’m sorry about this morning, i was a dick and being unfair and i shouldn’t have let you leave without apologising first.” you were shaking your head before he’d even finished, wiping aggressively at your eyes with your own hand.

“i’m sorry, too. i was over dramatic when i didn’t need to be and it was petty. i didn’t wanna talk to you before i left because i didn’t want you to think you’d won.” jude huffed a little laugh at that, leant forward to brush the tip of his nose against your temple. he kissed the same spot a second later.

“we’re both childish and stubborn.”

“we’re stupid.”

“yeah.” he laughed again, shifted so he could cup your face in both hands and bring you in closer. you clung a little harder to him. “i’m still sorry about your day, especially if the argument made it worse. y’gonna let me make it up to you?”

“you don’t have to, we were both wrong.”

“but i want to. let me run you a bath and we can order in food? or i’ll cook you something.” your head shook, face twisting a little and you leant into jude’s palm when he stroked your cheek again. you’d stopped crying but the puffy skin and glassy sheen in your eyes still made his chest ache. he kissed the spot between your eyebrows, a soothing gesture in hopes of settling you.

“you’re an awful cook.”

“yeah, i was hoping you’d say no.” he grinned at you. “chinese? i’ll order it while you’re in the bath and i’ll shove one of my hoodies in the dryer so it’s warm when you get out.”

“jude-“ he shook his head and pressed his forehead to yours.

“let me make you feel better. please.” you could only nod at that, a shuddering breath fanning against his lips. you gave a slow blink and his lips tilted into a soft smile before he pitched forward to kiss you. before he could however your face scrunched and your turned away, his mouth instead landing on your cheek.

“what’re you-“

“i’m all snotty.”

“so? i love you and your snotty nose, so c’mere and let me kiss you.” jude didn’t really give you any chance to protest, his pointer finger hooked beneath your chin, thumb pressed soft just below your bottom lip and he closed his mouth over yours.

the kiss was slow, a gentle drag of his lips across yours, tongues brushing soft and languid and each shared breath was a whisper of apology. he kissed you with careful movements, his free hand sliding down your arm to wrap around your wrist and lift it up. when his lips left yours, his chin tilted down and he pressed a feather light kiss to the palm of your hand.

“i love you.” you were nodding, gripping the back of his head to lead him back to your burning mouth.

“i know, i love you, too.”

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fic

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the-travelling-witch · 2 months

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𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋

summary: a siren attack is already unfortunate, but it's worse if it also reveals some truths about your insufferable crew mate

pairing: pirate! hawks x gn! pirate! reader

warnings: just a silly drabble to get back into writing and exorcise some of my hawks brainrot; a little suggestive at the end

general masterlist || bnha masterlist

Getting stuck on the same ship as Takami Keigo was one of life’s most torturous challenges. At least for you. He was obnoxiously arrogant and, much to your chagrin, people flocked to him like seagulls to a forgotten loaf of bread.

Sure, your fellow pirate was quite easy on the eyes and rather charming when he wanted to be; a truth you would only ever admit in the comfort of your own head, lest you inflate his ego even further. Instead, you rather grumbled to yourself, cursing his name for getting to sit pretty in the crow’s nest while you sat on deck and mended a torn net.

“Having fun down there?” If the devil ever spoke to you, you were sure he would mimic the grating lilt of Keigo’s melodic voice. “You know, I’m pretty sure a whale could swim through the holes you’re leaving.”

He was your crew mate, he was an essential part of the expedition, you couldn’t just shoot him down.

“At least one of us is doing their job,” you deadpanned, not even giving him the satisfaction to look up. “You know, I think an island could sneak up on us with how distracted you are.”

“Oh you think you’re distracting me?” Even with your eyes trained on the cords in your hands, you could picture the cocky tilt of his head, a dashing grin playing around his lips. “Is that the kind of effect you want to have on me?”

“You’re the one who’s always coming up to bother me, so if anything you’re the one who’s obsessed with me.” If this conversation went on for any longer, your medic would have to patch up a popped vein on your part.

“Ah there is that wishful thinking again,” he laughed and this time you glared up at his silhouette standing out against the blinding sun. As always, he wore loose beige pants and the top buttons of his black shirt were undone, showing more of his toned chest than you needed to see. His black boots were propped up against the nest’s railing and the crimson head scarf fluttering in the breeze matched the earring dangling from his left lobe.

Just as you were about to retort, another shadow against the sun caught your attention. Drawing your pistol, you undid the safety, alerting the rest of the crew that there was something coming.

But before you could see what exactly was approaching, you suddenly lost your balance as the ship developed a heavy list. Grabbing onto the mast of the crow’s nest, you managed to steady yourself, yet the impact knocked the revolver from your grip. As you looked up, the first thing you saw was the massive cliffs your ship was heading towards, sharp rocks littering the waters, waiting to demolish its wooden bottom.

Then your eyes locked on to the crew’s navigator, whose head lulled from one side to the other as he firmly steered you towards your demise. Next to him, holding his attention, was a beautiful woman sweetly tracing a finger along his jaw as she sang to him. As a feather drifted past your eyes, it suddenly hit you what -or who- exactly you were dealing with.

“Cover your ears!” You shouted to no one in particular as you scrambled for the wax you had stuffed into your pocket. With your hearing muffled, your own heartbeat raced in your ears as you dove for your pistol and breathlessly aimed for the siren attached to your navigator, who by now was half way towards the ship’s railing, his feet dragging underneath him as the woman lured him further towards the water.

You weren’t sure if your bullet was enough to actually kill the siren but upon impact it dissolved into a burst of feathers and released its hold on your crew mate, who dazedly blinked as he tried to regain his senses.

The next few minutes were a blur of talons, feathers and pulling your crew back from the ship’s edge, even tying some of them to the masts to make sure they wouldn’t try to kill themselves again.

Soon enough, however, you were out of bullets and you reluctantly drew the dagger previously secured to your thigh, scanning the area for more sirens when someone tapped your shoulder. Whirling around you slashed your dagger in an arc around you, only to find Keigo standing in front of you, holding up his hands innocently. There was an easy going smile on his face as he said something you couldn’t understand, so you removed one of the wax beads restricting your hearing.

And that was your mistake.

Only a few heartbeats after his velvety voice reached your ears, your dagger clattered onto the deck as Keigo reached out to unplug your other ear as well, his fingers grazing your cheek with nails much sharper than you expected. You wondered if his lips would be as plush as you imagined them to be or if his hair would be as soft as it looked when you buried your fingers in it.

His amber eyes were trained entirely on you as he gave you a coy gaze, inviting you to take another step towards him, to find out for yourself, to sate your curiosity. Likewise, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him either as your feet followed his graceful movements, the light reflecting of his golden hair like a halo, the crimson wings on his back completing his angelic appearance—

Then, Keigo dissolved into a burst of those same scarlet feathers as two sharp swords sliced through his torso. For a moment, you thought you had imagined it when the same face came back into view again.

With full force, the noise of the ship reached you again and you staggered backwards at the sudden onslaught of stimuli. Around you, the crew was running around, untying people and frantically steering the ship back onto the right course as you raced to regain your bearings, disoriented by the orders being bellowed around you.

“That should be the last of them,” Keigo ripped you from your daze, his voice clearer as the sea as he sheathed his swords again. “Nasty creatures, those sirens. Though I guess this one was a handsome fellow, considering you were dazedly mumbling my name on your way overboard.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line when your brain caught up to your current situation. Perhaps the siren had been taken care off, yet you were still tempted to throw yourself head first over the railing. Justifiably so, you thought when your eyes darted to the man’s face long enough to confirm the self-satisfied expression he was wearing.

“I am quite flattered really,” he mused, one hand reaching out to tilt your face up so you’d meet his eyes as he stepped closer to you. For a split-second, the thought that it was still a siren in front of you crossed your mind. “To think that a siren would choose to wear my face in an effort to seduce you… now isn’t that quite the compliment?”

“Just… shut up and let me die in peace, would you?” You rolled your eyes, ready to retreat into your little cabin and try to grapple with your near-death experience, this confrontation included. If only the rocky spikes had ripped open the bottom of the ship, you could sink to the sea floor in quiet solitude.

“No no no, why would you do that when you can stay right here with me? C’mon just see it as my reward for saving your precious life, treasure.” He sent you a cheeky wink, drawing your attention to the sharp slant of his eyes and your heart, the treacherous thing, skipped a beat.

“Is your idea of a reward torturing me further? Or what could you possibly get out of this?” Your shoulders sacked with your sigh, resigning to your defeat.

“What I’m getting out of this? It’s quite obvious isn’t it?” Slinging an arm around your hanging shoulders, Keigo pulled you flush to his side. Warmth and the scent of salt mixed with something woodsy radiated off of him and you could admit this wasn’t the worst position to be in. “Believe it or not, I do enjoy your company.”

“That is hard to believe, you’re right.” You cocked your head in suspicion. “Normally you do everything to get under my skin, so what changed?”

“Hmm, I wonder why that is,” Keigo’s melodic timbre lilted before transitioning into his typical pearly laughter. Then, as if sharing a secret, he leant down so his lips were dangerously close to your ear, his voice dropping low. “You know, you weren’t the only one visited by a siren. As tempting as that version of you looked, I must say I prefer the real deal.

“Do you think I could get you to sing for me as well?”

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thyme-in-a-bubble · 9 months

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the breakfast

lilac, chapter two

a/n: when my love, @chvoswxtch, asked me to bring the horny energy of miss patty from gilmore girls, of course I fucking did it, I'm not a criminal, that's what we all deserve

summary: “well, hello stranger.”

warnings: lumberjack!frank castle x reader, lumberjack AU, pete castiglione era, past domestic violence, crazy ex trope, slow burn, wholesome villagers being adorable

word count: 2373

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The Lilac Inn wasn’t just an inn to the citizens of Dunbrook. It was its beating heart, a hub for the small community to gather.

As the town’s only culinary establishment, the residents had always made a habit of eating a fair amount of their meals in the inn’s dining room, the door to the kitchen often staying wide open so that Harvey wouldn’t have to leave the stove in order to catch all of the juicy small-town gossip that had people blabbering.

“Dad, did you turn off my alarm?” you snapped as soon as your scurrying feet carried you into the bustling kitchen.

Not lifting his eyes from the loaf of bread he was currently slicing, your dad simply countered with a jovial, “well, good morning to you too, sleeping beauty!”

“Dad,” you sighed, jaw clenching at his usual demeanour, the paralysing dream you’d just roused from not setting you up to be in the right mood for such a level of positivity.

“You just looked like you could use the extra hour or two,” a smile still warm on his lips, the middle-aged man defensively raised his hands.

“But I’m supposed to help you out,” your eyes followed his movements as he trotted towards the stove, “I can’t do that if I’m asleep.”

“Exactly,” your dad passed by a hook full of tangled textiles and tossed you an apron, “that’s why I let you go a little longer so that you wouldn’t doze off on me before lunchtime arrives.”

“I wouldn’t have dozed off…” you mumbled pettily as you tied the linen around your waist. Exhaling lowly as you watched him crack two eggs into a sizzling skillet, you asked, “what can I do?”

“Well for starters,” he tossed the shells into a small scrap bowl to his side, “these were the last eggs, so if you could go get some more out by the front desk, that would be superb.”

“Why do you have eggs on the front desk?”

“Because Otto’s chickens are laying a lot right now and so he told me he’d give me some today when he swung by for breakfast.”

“Wait, Sheriff Nilsen has chickens now?”

“Yeah, has for a long time,” the decade of you not living here grew palpable, “he usually just drops the extra ones off here, so they should already be there because I just took his order two minutes ago.”

“Alright,” you disappeared through the back door and snaked down the narrow corridor, ending up behind the messy reception area.

Your eyes didn’t have to search for long before you noticed the petite basket, brimming with beige eggs, resting on the top of the counter right beside the small rolodex that displayed what date it was. Grasping it in your hand, your vision momentarily drifted down to the small, framed photo nuzzled behind the ever-open logbook. Sitting on the swing that still hung from one of the sturdy trees out back, head adorably posed in a tiny palm, there a 7-year-old version of you sat, forever frozen in that singular moment, beaming up at the camera.

“Ah!” a sharp voice boomed as you heard the front door swing shut, “oh my goodness, oh my god! Y/n!”

Raising your chin, your eyes grew wide at the rotund woman beaming at you from the doormat, “miss Rays!” you hurried around the front desk, “oh my god, it’s been so long!”

Capturing you in a hug, she pressed your form into her bosom, “darling, we’re not in bed together, call me Donna.”

Pulling back with a light chuckle, your eyes fluttered over her features, “you haven’t changed one bit,” her lipstick still a fiery shade red and hair still short and feathery framing her plump cheeks.

“You however have,” she clasped your free hand in hers, guiding your figure to give her a good view, “oh, do a little spin for me,” you bashfully obliged with a giggle, “yes! Honey, who is this woman, what have you done with the adorable little girl I used to tutor?”

To your knowledge, Dunbrook never really had a proper school, but for as long as you could recall Donna had always operated as a teacher to the handful of children that called the reclusive mountain village their home. Even though it was just run out of her living room, she had still been the best teacher you’d ever had, her patient way rivalling any of the professors you had to endure when you went off for college. As a matter of fact, she had been the person who’d pushed you to send in the application, praising that you were too clever not to go out and change the world.

“Oh, stop it,” you sighed light-heartedly, a chuckle still bubbling out of your chest as you shifted the subject away from your own appearance, “so, you still come here for breakfast?”

“Of course, I do, you��ve tasted your father’s cooking,” readjusting her purse, she hooked her arm in yours, “a real shame that he’s never accepted any of my offers of becoming your stepmom,” she leaned in to add as you crossed over the threshold into the dinner room, “I could have been served all my meals in bed like some Egyptian queen!”

“I’m sure you can easily find another fellow that can handle himself in the kitchen,” the click-clack of her heels came to a stop by one of the small round tables, her eyes briefly taking in the other patrons before a slight crease appeared betwixt her polished brows.

“Oh, darn it,” her vision stayed glued to the table in the corner as she lowered herself onto her seat, “he’s not sitting at his usual table…”

“Who?”

“The eye candy over there,” she tilted her chin in the direction of the broad, muted flannel-clad back of the man sitting by the window furthest down at the bottom of the room, “you see, I asked your dear father to always reserve this spot for me just so that I can have a great view, if you know what I mean…” gulping down the rest of his coffee, the man’s head tilted enough for you to recognise whom the rugged looking visage belonged to, “oh boy, I tell you, if I was 30 years younger…”

Haven assumed that you’d never again run into the stranger who’d helped you just the day before, a warm flutter suddenly trickled down your spine, “like that’s ever stopped you before,” you pointed out, snapping your eyes out of their trance, “so, uh, do you know what you want to eat or do you just want some coffee or something while you think on it?” you took two steps towards the oblong table where mismatched teacups where stacked and the steam of a few thermoses, all containing a different hot beverage then the next, billowed out.

“Some coffee would be lovely,” she smiled as you with one hand snatched up a mug and the decanter labelled as such, “and some oatmeal if you don’t mind, sweetie.”

Promptly pouring her a cup, you then signed off with a wink, “you got it,” before your vision landed upon the latest of Donna’s abundant infatuations once more.

Attempting to make the short journey seem spontaneous and effortless, you bounced from table to table, topping off people's cups, before reaching the final one.

Drawing in a deep breath, your embarrassingly giddy voice then found his ears, “well, hello stranger.”

Eyes flickering away from the newspaper sprawled out before him, a look of shock washed over his gruff features as he glanced up at you, “oh, hi.”

“Pete–, it is Pete, right?” you checked, slight mortification beginning to brew within your belly.

“Yes, ma'am,” his head nodded ever so slightly.

“Do you want a refill, Pete?” you savoured the taste of his name on your tongue.

“Sorry?” his brows furrowed at your offer.

“Your coffee,” you pointed with the hand that clutched the handle of the thermos, “do you want some more?”

“Oh,” he breathed, though the puzzled look didn’t seem to fade, “yes, always.”

Leaning in slightly over the newspaper, you filled up the drained mug, only a murky ring at the bottom indicating what it had previously contained, “and can I get you something to eat as well?”

Eyes narrowing, he stared up at you, “is your vacation really already so boring that you got a job here or what?”

“Oh,” you couldn’t help but breathe out a light chuckle as you answered, “I’m not on vacation and I guess, kinda,” staring back into his eyes as you attempted to repeat your question, “so, do you want any–,” though before you could finish the sentence, out pranced your father, a plate of food balanced in his palm.

“2 eggs sunny side up and some sourdough toast, as per usual,” he sang as his long arm came down to slice the air between your forms, placing the dish upon the table.

Briefly catching his eye, Pete then offered a polite nod of gratitude, “thank you,” folding the paper up and scooting the meal closer.

Feeling the small basket of eggs disappear from your grip, you blinked back at your father as he softly requested in your ear, “honey, could you give me a hand in the back when you’re done out here?”

“Sure, dad,” you flashed him a smile before watching him disappear once more.

Feet still glued to the floorboards right by Pete’s table, your vision then returned to him as his deep voice washed over you, “so, you’re Harvey’s kid, then?”

“Yep, that’s my dad,” your balance briefly shifted as you rocked on the balls of your feet, “thank you, by the way, for yesterday.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” his fork punctured one of the golden yokes, “how’s your car looking?”

“I don’t really know yet. The local mechanic is taking a look today, so fingers crossed it’s not anything too catastrophic,” you felt your palms begin to sweat as he simply stared up at you in silence, “anyhow,” you averted your gaze nervously, “I’ll stop bothering you, let eat in peace,” you nearly bumped into the chair behind you as you backed up towards the kitchen, the near accident not managing to draw any words out of him, only the hint of a smile twitched at the corner of his lips, “see you around, I guess…”

“Hey, dad?”

Briefly raising his eyes from the logbook cracked open on the wooden counter, he glanced up at you as you bounced down the wide staircase, “yeah, pumpkin?”

Hand tracing the railing, with the aid of the grip, you swung your form around the last post as you ascended the final step, “did you know that the hot water doesn’t work? Like at all.”

“Yeah, that and about a million other things around here,” he sighed, vision returning to the ledger as you rested your folded-up arms upon the top of the reception, “this is a beautiful historic building… and what I mean by that is that there are too many things that either don’t work the way they should or at all. I am not a millionaire, honey. If I was, then the issues wouldn’t be piling up the way that they are…”

Bottom lip snug between your teeth, your mind raced a moment before you quietly theorised, “exactly how long is that list?”

Eyes racing to find your eyes, your father joked, “why? Did you become a contractor while living in New York or something?”

“No, but I was always the handy one out of the two of us,” you noted before your shoulders raised in an innocent shrug, “how hard could it be?”

“Let me get this right,” he raised a palm up between you as his eyes crinkled even further, “you’re telling me you wanna try and patch this place up?”

“Well, it couldn’t hurt the business side of things. When was the last time you booked out more than two rooms at a time here?”

“Oh, no, no,” the moustachioed man then began to shake his head, “you’re not turning this place into some fake, glossy tourist attraction.”

Swinging around to his side of the counter, you assured him, “hey, I’m not saying let's flood this place with tourists, but maybe just a handful more?” tilting your head in an attempt to catch his gaze that had now returned to the open book, “just enough to make ends meet, perhaps also enough to at some point hire someone else so that you won’t work yourself to death…”

Eyes frozen on the page before him, a long exhale then flowed from his lungs as he deliberated.

“Alright, fine, yeah, I guess that wouldn’t be that bad…” he tried to downplay the smile that blossomed upon his lips.

Spine pressed against the edge of the front desk, you then braced with your palms and hauled yourself up onto the spot that was just clear enough for you to sit there without knocking any knickknacks over.

“So,” you drew out, searching for a new topic to explore, “Donna seems to be quite set on that guy Pete to be her new husband, huh?”

“Oh, yeah,” Harvey chortled, “but you know her, she’s like a dog spotting a pheasant every time she sees a new man. I think genuinely I might be the only person in town who isn’t either terrified of him or has some desire to sleep with him.”

“How long has he been here anyway?”

“Eh,” he glanced up at the stained glass adorning the front door as he thought, “maybe a year or two? He mostly keeps to himself, lives up in a cabin in the woods and only really comes down here to either provide some firewood to whoever needs it or have some coffee,” vision landing on you, he then noted, “you however seemed to have broken through to him quite quickly. Took me like 5 months to get anything more than a grunt of recognition out of him.”

“Oh,” you couldn’t stop your eyebrows as they promptly rose up, “well, he kinda helped me the day that I got here. He was the guy I caught a ride with…”

#lea’s writing #lilac series #lumberjack!frank castle #frank castle x reader #frank castle imagine #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle x female reader #frank castle x fem!reader #frank castle x f!reader #frank castle fic #the punisher fic #frank castle fanfiction #the punisher x reader #frank castle fluff #frank castle series #lumberjack au

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hobiebrownismygod · 5 months

Text

StreetKid!Hobie x Fem!Reader - Short Fic

Synopsis: As a child, Hobie lived on the streets. One day, he met a girl who's kindness knew no bounds and who re-instilled his faith in humanity. Years later, he still wishes he could see her again.

TW: Homelessness, Angst, Lowkey the idea is pretty depressing if you think about it

part 2

___________________________________________________________

"Get out of here y'little punk!"

10 year old Hobie Brown found himself being chased out of yet another store, the icy wind smashing against his face as the owner shut the door behind him, muttering curses about "delinquents" and "street rats". He hadn't been trying to steal anything, all Hobie wanted was some shelter from the horrible cold of the evening. It was well below freezing outside and all he had to protect himself was a thin coat that did little to keep the snow from soaking him right down to the bone.

He shivered as he walked along the trash-ridden sidewalk, the tip of his nose turning a shade of dark blue with the beginning of frostbite. He clutched his pitiful layers tightly around himself, closing his eyes as yet another draft shoved him back. He took to one of the many Camden alleyways and sat down with his back against the wall, watching timidly as the passerby regarded him with disgust, their noses held high as they walked by him, hands full with Christmas shopping bags. To them he was nothing more than a street rat.

It wasn't Hobie's fault that he lived like this, shuffling from one street to another, digging through trash cans for just one loaf of bread or something to keep him warm. His parents had died a while back, leaving him in the care of his older brother, Abraham. Abe had done a great job raising Hobie for the past year, working hard to give them both shelter and keep Hobie fed. But one horrifically violent protest later, Hobie found himself a true orphan, his older brother no longer around to protect him.

Hobie had always looked up to Abe. He was a true punk and had taught Hobie his first few guitar strings. It had been a quiet night when Abe had gotten his hands on a discarded guitar and brought it back to the shelter to show his little brother. He'd handed it to Hobie with a big grin plastered across his face, and the two of them spent the rest of the night teaching themselves different notes, playing and fighting with each other over turns the way siblings did.

But now, Abe was gone and so was the guitar. All Hobie had left was his jacket, a few sizes too big for him and too thin to keep him from getting a cold. As he huddled up in that alleyway, he felt tears begin to prickle the corners of his eyes. He was scared. Not only was he homeless, but he was lost. He didn't know where the shelter was and he didn't know if he'd survive the night. He could feel it start to snow as well, the soft little flakes hitting his bare face and moistening his hair. Abe loved the snow.

And then it was like he'd heard the voice of an angel.

"Hey, are you okay?"

He looked up and saw something so beautiful, he could barely believe his own eyes. A young girl, probably around his age, with long flowy hair, perfect skin and the most gorgeous eyes he'd ever beheld was standing in front of him, a sweet smile on her face and her hand outstretched towards him. He watched in shock for a moment, thinking he was hallucinating. He stayed silent as he took her hand and she pulled him up.

Another young boy arrived behind her, a nervous expression on his face as he watched Hobie and the girl, eyes darting between them. "Y/N, come on! We're gonna get in trouble!" He said in a whiny voice, grabbing onto the girl's arm desperately.

"Calm down, Harry! My father won't even realize we're gone" the girl replied, shaking him off. She looked back at Hobie, her voice turning soft again. "Are you alright? You look starved, you poor thing" She reached out towards his face and caressed his cheek gently, looking him up and down.

He was in awe. He leaned into her touch, his eyes never leaving her face. "Y/N, don't do that! You don't know where he's been!" the boy, Harry, said quickly. The girl smacked him on the arm before looking back at Hobie with a curious expression on her face.

Hobie watched as she pulled her jacket off her back and pushed it into his arms. "Here. Take this. It'll keep you warm." Hobie was in shock. He shook his head no and tried to return the jacket to her, pleading for her to take it back. "I can't take this..." he whispered, his big watery eyes wide with surprise. "Its all right! Its too big for me anyway, it'll fit you perfectly" she said with a smile, forcing the jacket towards him.

"You're crazy" the boy named Harry whined to her, looking between the girl and Hobie, that same nervous expression still on his face. The girl continued to ignore him, not taking her eyes off of Hobie's. "Look. F.E.A.S.T. shelter is right down the street. Keep going down Main and take a right onto Hamilton and you'll see it in the distance." She pointed across the road.

Hobie nodded at her words, still in disbelief at the fact that she was helping him. Who even was she? When she finished giving him directions, she looked up at him and nodded. "You understand?"

"Thank you" he replied quietly, his eyes darting in between hers, his voice barely a croaked out whisper as he blinked tears back. "Thank you so much."

"You can thank me by keeping safe and warm." she replied, tilting her head up at him slightly. Suddenly, she turned her head as if she heard her name being called. "Oh no, we're in trouble now!" Harry squeaked out. "Oh calm down, no we're not!" she looked back up at Hobie and patted his shoulder. "Remember the directions. Get to F.E.A.S.T. and they'll take care of you."

Hobie nodded again, unsure of how else to respond besides whispering out another thank you. And then, she leaned in and gave him a friendly peck on the cheek before she and the boy, Harry, ran back towards their family. Hobie touched the part of his cheek that she'd kissed, watching her in astonishment before he began to head down the street, the jacket she'd given him filling him with a warmth he hadn't felt in ages. He could still just barely hear her talking in the distance.

"Y/N? Where's your jacket?"

"I lost it."

"Silly girl, how could you lose a jacket? We'll have to get you another one, tsktsk"

Hobie eventually arrived at F.E.A.S.T. and it was there he stayed for a few years before he was old enough to start squatting with other teenagers his age. Even after he left F.E.A.S.T., he still returned often, volunteering and donating what he could, getting to know all the new admittees and more.

He was 19 now, and it had been 9 years since he'd encountered that girl, but to this day, he couldn't forget her. That hair, that skin, those eyes. That perfect smile. The way she'd looked at him like he was all that mattered in that moment. He wished every single day that he'd find her. Whenever he went outside, especially near the richer neighborhoods, he would find himself subconsciously searching the crowds to see if he could recognize her. If he could see her face.

And even after he'd outgrown the jacket she'd given him, and it was a really nice, expensive jacket at that, he'd patched pieces of it onto his vest. Whenever he touched them, he would get that warm feeling in his chest again, that feeling that let him know he mattered.

Even if he was just some delinquent punk to everyone else. Even though he was a street kid. He mattered to her. And that was all that mattered.

He hoped one day he would see her again.

____________________________________________________________

A/N: Thought this was a cute AU and I got the idea from the StreetKid!Hobie post @the-cat-and-the-birdie made, I'll link it if I find it again. If enough people are interested I might make a part 2 where he actually meets the girl and they fall in love or something cuz I think it would make a cute story <3

If I do continue this story I'll prob do it on wattpad cuz its a lot easier for me so you can access that here:

Hobie brown x Reader - Full Fanfiction

I'll try to update it regularly

Tags under the cut:

@s6onder @therealloopylupin2099 @spiderrinn @l0starl @daydreaming-en-pointe @itsparis-07 @@vileviale @bubble787635 @hows-my-handwriting

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bonkhrnyjail · 4 months

Text

sweet plum | chapter one

pairing: pedro pascal x fem!reader (plus size)

rating: g (will become explicit later)

summary: you're almost late to work picking up coffee for your client.

a/n: hello hello! i've been posting this fic on ao3 for the past few months but had a request to post here as well, so here she is !!! this chapter is just a short and sweet intro to the story, future chapters are much longer. hope you enjoy :')

p.s. i wrote this WAYYYY before the starbucks boycott (like 9 months before) and will not be writing about starbucks in the future. free palestine. fuck starbucks.

Fuck.

You can hear the beat of your boot tapping the floor incessantly as you continue to check the lock screen of your phone, staring at the digits and jolting with every minute that passes.

You’ve never had to wait more than 5 minutes at this Starbucks, but of course the one day that your presence is absolutely essential on set, some freak decided to terrorize the staff by forcing them to remake his drink over and over, until he deemed it acceptable. You tried to intervene, but one of the baristas mouthed “It’s ok” to you over the maniac’s shoulder, so you let the situation run its course.

The curly-haired man working so diligently on your order finally calls out your name; you bolt upright and book it to the counter.

“Ok, we’ve got the grande Iced Blonde Honey Shaken Oat Milk Espresso,” he places the first drink into the carrier, “the, uh, grande Sweet Cream Cold Brew and… jesus I hope this one isn’t yours…” he lets out a chuckle, “the Venti Quad Espresso with two extra shots over ice.” He wiggles the drinks into the carrier and wedges a few straws in between the plastic cups.

“It’s not,” you manage through a chuckle, “My client needs his 'go-go juice'."

He throws his head back with laughter. Surely the joke wasn’t that funny, but you appreciate the flattery nonetheless.

“Here,” you hand the straws back to him. “Save the turtles.”

“Let me get you some napkins… oh shoot, we’re out. I’lll go grab some from the back.” He moves away from you quicker than you can stop him.

Fucking hell, you have to go now. You have 15 minutes until they actually start filming, and they need you for the inevitable touch-ups that the action of the scene will cause.

You can not fuck up this job. You’re nearly at the end of filming and you’ve been early, by some miracle, every time you were called to set. They took a chance on you, and you need to prove that they didn’t make a mistake.

“Here you go.” He emerges with a small bag in his hand. “I threw in a loaf to thank you for trying to help earlier.”

“Thank you so much, it was no problem at all,” you wedge the heavy drink carrier between your arm and your torso, “I really have to run, but I’m sure I’ll be back in the next few days, thanks again!” the words trailing behind you as you high-tail it to your car.

13 minutes.

You drive faster and more recklessly than you should, one hand on the wheel and the other stabilizing the drinks so they don’t skyrocket out of the passenger’s seat. As you finally pull into your designated stall, you see your client and his sidekick leaning on the car in the spot next to yours, motioning at invisible watches and tapping their feet. You’d think they’d be grateful that you just risked your job to get them their caffeine fix.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry,” you shout as you grab the carrier and bag from your car and hoist yourself up from the seat. “There was this guy, he was being a total asshole, made them make his drink like five times. Here.” you hand each of them their drinks. “P, the fucking barista laughed out loud at your order. He said he was scared for your health.”

“Listen,” Pedro takes a comically massive gulp. “I’m not as spry as I used to be, you know. I need a little help on that front.”

You chuckle and rustle in the paper bag. “Are either of you hungry? This guy gave me a cake slice but I’m not hungry enough for the whole thing.”

“We’ll split it.” Bella reaches into the bag and grabs the napkins, dispersing them amongst the 3 of you.

“Ohhhh ho ho ho… what’s THIS!” Pedro shouts, setting his cup on the hood of the car, holding his napkin up with two hands and clears his throat. “It was really sweet what you tried to do today. I’d love to repay you and TAKE YOU OUT SOMETIME?” his voice rising in pitch and volume.

He shows it to Bella and they start cackling. “It even has a little heart on it!” Bella exclaims through their giggles.

“Let me see that!” you snatch it out of Bella’s hands. The two of them start oohing and making kissy noises, prompting you to roll your eyes.

"What'd you try to do?" Bella pries. You ignore them.

“Are you guys literally 10 years old? Jesus.” you try to hold back your embarrassment as you examine the note. It has a phone number written at the bottom, signed with “xo”.

“You’re gonna call him, right?” Bella tore off a piece of the cake and passed the remainder to Pedro.

“No—” you hiss, instantly regretting the speed and intensity at which you responded. “I don’t know. Maybe? I guess he's handsome, but I don’t… know him… can we just drop it? We’re gonna be late.”

You want this attention off of you as soon as possible. You feel a hot flush prickle your cheeks and you turn your face away from the two of them, pretending to rustle through your bag and grab something.

“That's what a first date is for, dipshit! Man, you’re impossible.” Bella lets out an exasperated sigh. “Whatever,” they say, grabbing the napkin. “I’ll call him then, do it myself.”

You shake your head, chuckles still escaping your lips. “I think he might be a bit old for you, Bellie, but knock yourself out I guess.”

“That's not what I— You think I want a man? Please don’t insult me like that ever again.” Bella starts half-walking, half-skipping towards the elaborate set scattered with cast and crew. You follow their lead, Pedro trailing close behind.

“Hey, don’t listen to them. You do whatever makes you the most comfortable.” Pedro puts his arm around your shoulder and gives it a little squeeze. Your body shivers under the warmth of his touch and you manage a nod.

“Thanks.” you look up, finding him already gazing down at you, cocoa brown eyes twinkling and crinkled by a sweet smile.

“Anytime, sweet plum.”

. . . . .

chapter two

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #plus size reader #the last of us #pedro pascal fanfiction

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slothgiirl · 2 years

Text

an understanding

morpheus x reader. 5k. no use of y/n. yearning. the only thing i know about video game development comes from mythic quest. dont feed ducks bread (its bad for them) morpheus.

“You know feeding ducks bread is bad for them right,” you pointedly tell the stranger in black. The man was wearing 30 layers of black under the midday sun. You had no clue how he could bear wearing a wool coat in this heat. Sweat was already gathering around your forehead and you were in a gauzy shirt.

“Oh.” His voice was deep, an alluring quality that would’ve made him a perfect audiobook narrator. He doesn’t look up, still hunched over his loaf of french bread: the good kind that was made fresh in store at some local bakery.

“Mind if I sit here?” You didn’t want to sit on the grass. Lugging a towel on top of your laptop and bag was bad enough so you were really hoping for a bench, even one with no shade. It was just too nice of a day to spend working indoors.

He doesn’t respond. Tearing another piece of bread, he pops it into his mouth, finally looking up, looking out at the park contemplatively.

You decide that it’s okay. He didn’t say no.

He was obviously incredibly awkward or maybe didn’t get out much judging by his pasty skin. It was rather unfortunate too. Now that you’d gotten a good look at him he was cute in a way that would’ve thrilled you at twelve when you were wearing studded belts and obsessed with Mary Shelley and Trent Reznor. His hair was a hopeless mess: it’s color so black it seemed to destroy any sunlight that shone on him.

Too bad he was about as interesting as a pet rock.

Even the beta testers who were chronically online, still figuring out women at the ripe old age of twenty six (which you understood as your dating life was no better and all your hopes rested on Hinge) were livelier to talk to.

You were probably being too hard on him, you thought as you opened up the company issue computer. It was the fancy type that bent completely backwards. There were so many dialogue trees to work through. So many paths.

Sitting cross legged on the bench, you get back to work and try not to think about the man on the other end of the bench.

He managed to make eating bread an incredibly depressing act; gaunt as he was, with a forlorn expression in his clear blue eyes.

Clearly the guy was going through something.

Refocusing on your work, you turn up the screen brightness and pull up your saved files for Project: Dracul City.

There were notes.

Bottle: get sent to old lady Constancia and gain +1 luck token

Newspaper: uncover school turned shelter LORE

Right.

“Thirsty now, are we dearie,” you utter under your breath. You worked best like this, saying the lines out loud. At the office, no one batted an eye, but you’d gotten plenty of looks at cafes.

No. That was too fairytale-esque. This was more survival horror. The words rich and velvet were also on the moodboard.

“A bottle of wine to soften the blow eh?” You frowned. It sounded too young, too flirty. Old Lady Constancia ran a black market shop in the game.

“Well then, a bit of liquor for the road? Better than anything in the tavern.”

Again, it was wrong. The wrong feel for the setting.

“No need to ask how your night is going then.” There. You grin a little, reading over the dialogue tree that led here, skimming over Lady Constancia’s lines. There’d be no voice actors for this so the diction would have a lot to convey.

“What.”

“Huh,” you look up from your screen. You’d completely forgotten you were sharing the bench, speaking too loudly.

“You were saying.” The man looks over at you for the first time. His gaze is no longer distant as he studies you. It was obvious you held his full attention in spite of how cold his demeanor was.

“Nothing,” you laugh nervously, “I just-it’s something I do while working. Say what I’m writing to see if it makes sense. It’s a really good trick for dialogue. Sometimes what sounds good in my head sounds really awful to my ears. It was advice I got years ago in school. Really fucking helpful though.”

“You are a writer?”

“Ha, I wish,” you scrunch your nose feeling yourself blush. “Well, sometimes. I don’t know. I always wanted to work in video games and thought writing for them would be cool. And yeah, every now and then I think I’ve got a novel in me but I like my job. Sure-I’m not lead in anything yet but it’s fun to flesh out these characters and help build a world where people can escape into. Just look at early fallout, Kentucky Route Zero’s a really good one. . .” Your own sincerity embarrassed you. “I know,” you look down at your screen, the blinking | waiting for your next words, “most people play to blow things up and kill lines of code but, I really do think it means something to people. Give them a world to play in, create, dream. . .yeah.” God you rambling so bad. “I can stop if it bothers you?”

There’s the slightest hint of interest in the subtle relaxation of his expression, “Not at all,” he replies, putting aside the bread he had left, “There is nothing frivolous in striving to inspire people.”

His words catch you off guard. He’d been so distant before, you were expecting a brush off. “Well maybe this line won’t impact someone but you never know what characters players latch onto.” Mariska Lutz’s tapes haunted you for months after playing Bioshock for the first time.

The man does not reply again, watching the ducks hop into the murky water.

You return to your work, making an effort to keep your mumblings quiet.

It’s not until the battery low notification pops up on your screen that you look up again, shutting your laptop and stretching your legs out. Your left foot tingles hellishly, having fallen asleep.

You look over, only to find that the man had left without a word, without making a sound. It was unsurprising. When you worked you got tunnel vision. That was the reason your pot of pinto beans had burned before. No enfrijoladas for you that day.

Well, he had certainly been a character.

*****

You escape a hectic office where you’d spent the past week during crunch time as the demo went live, a short teaser of the gameplay for corporate who would never even play the game but wanted to see evidence that money would be made when the game released in time for October aka when everyone would be over school and the spooky month would fit the game’s design. You’d brought a tote bag with your lunch and snacks from the office. Nothing hit the same as lays with salsa valentina though you would like to know who kept using your bottle. You’d labelled it. As a last resort you’d taken to stashing it in your desk when you knew you’d be working from home.

July.

Kids were chasing the poor ducks back into the pond. A woman in leopard print roller skates took on hills like a pro.

You liked the warmth of sunlight on your skin.

You still wore sunscreen though.

It’s Thursday but the park is packed. You try to look for any spot that has some shade, an open seat so you can enjoy a hard earned lunch. Your fingers have cramped from all the typing you’ve done in the last few days. You haven’t checked in the mirror but you feel like roadkill.

It was about three in the morning when you’d started using eye drops to keep going, but the meeting was happening. You’d done everything you could for your team.

No luck.

The moms were out in full force today, phone in hand as their kids ran wild.

Then-

You spot the same man from your last visit to this particular park. He looks the same, only his coat is longer. It was like he was trying to get heat stroke.

Well, the trick to adulthood was just going for it. Sharing a bench wasn’t the end of the world.

You walk over.

“Hello again,” you wave, “mind if I sit here?” You could always keep looking. There was plenty of time before you had to rush back to work.

“No.”

You plop down, leaving space for not only Jesus but all his homeboys too. “Thanks. I feel like everyone keeps having the same idea as me, but I guess it’s summer and unless you take the ferry west we don’t have the best beaches.” You open the bag of chips and liberally pour salsa on them, “want one?”

You hold out the bag, offering up your snacks to the man. He seemed less morose than last time, but was for sure managing to sulk under clear skies.

He doesn’t acknowledge you. Instead he reaches into a white paper bag and slowly grabs a pinchful of birdseed to toss over to the ducks.

You’re left holding the bag of chips long enough for it to be awkward before you shrug and dig in, sucking the salt and salsa from your fingertips.

This is why you’ll never have a flat stomach. Five minute abs workouts from tiktok were not enough and you sure as hell were not giving up gansitos. There were some in your freezer waiting alongside a pint of ben and jerry’s.

“You got birdseed,” you note, amused. He had been listening to you. A thrill of excitement bubbles up in your chest.

He nods, the motion small.

Your companion was not an expressive man.

“No fat pigeons,” he states neutrally.

You’re puzzled but shrug it off. “I’ve heard you can feed them oatmeal. But I’d probably double check that.”

Finishing your tiny chip back, you fold it up neatly into a square and pop it back into your tote bag until you can toss it into the trash. Your actual lunch was a cold tomato and fresh mozzarella pasta.

Nothing exciting.

You’d been at the office for practically a week, only going home to have a quick shower and pick up food. You were overtired. Food was fuel. You’d treat yourself tomorrow to breakfast at your favorite cafe.

You idly eat as people bike by.

It could use some more sauce.

Your melancolic acquaintance continues to feed the ducks, lost in his own thoughts.

You stab a grape tomato, deciding to make conversation because what was there to lose. “I didn’t catch your name last time.” Last time, ha. You were really going on like there would be a next time. What was the chance you’d see him again? There’d been students in your same major you’d never shared a class with.

The question hangs in the air.

You chew the tomato, the juice spilling out into your mouth. It was tart.

You didn’t think he’d reply and were already considering fleeing. You could finish eating at your desk.

“Morpheus.”

“Morpheus,” you repeat so you don’t forget, “like the Greek god of sleep?” At least, you think he was the Greek god of sleep. It had been a while, he might have been a mythic hero.

“Of dreams,” he pauses, turning to you, his clear eyes peering into yours intensely, “and sleep. Yes.”

It’s only polite to introduce yourself properly now. You wipe the corners of your mouth clean and reply, “Nice to meet you Morpheus,” feeling silly and giddy (flip flopping between the two similar states) as you give him your name.

Blandly he states, “We have met before.” But with his attention on you, you catch the twinkle of amusement in his eyes. The corners of his small mouth twitch in the ghost of a smile.

“All the same,” you beam at Morpheus, and finish your long lunch in quiet companionship.

*****

When you’re exhausted, you don’t even dream. Depending on whatever game you are working on, there’s weeks when you’re so mentally drained that you don’t even get under the covers before you’re out like a light.

You’re pretty sure this is a dream. Your mind rested enough to dream.

It’s usually in the middle of the dream, in the middle of the scenery changing from a party in your grandmother’s house where a bird offers you a peach to you sitting on a trampoline that you remember from summer days at your childhood friend’s house before the trampoline broke and sent you both to the ER where you only had scratches only your friend isn’t there but a programer from your internship and hey maybe this was sign from your subconsciousness that you should text her-

You let out a breath.

The sky turns pink.

Yup, this was a dream.

You lean into it, letting it happen around you, letting your mind wander as the trampoline bounces lightly with Nina’s movements. It jolts your body, your brain swings around in your skull pleasantly like being in those massage chairs.

A breeze runs over your cheeks.

You look at the blue of the trampoline border. Blue like the waters in instagram pictures. Blue-

The black trampoline washes away into dark waves and your favorite aunt lays in an innertube sipping on a cocktail, “I’m really glad we came to Hawai’i.”

“Me too. Though I’m still waiting to see a mermaid.”

“It’s great. I’m glad Lady Gaga approved the highway from San Diego to Hawai’i.”

“And we got to see those sea dragons!”

“Exactly!”

You feel something by your leg and stick your head underwater. The water is so clear, you can see everything around you, including the dolphins swimming around you, leading you somewhere. Minecraft dolphins. You grab onto it’s fin, wondering where they want to lead you. Atlantis? Too see a mermaid.

From under the water you tell your aunt, “I’ll be right back!”

“Yeah-”

And your alarm goes off. Your dream rapidly fades as you wipe the sleep from your eyes and blindly grasp around your nightstand for your phone. “Shut up!” The alarm was so annoying. Shrill ringing in your ears when all you wanted to do was go back to sleep.

You send Nina a heart emoji on discord, followed by let’s grab some shaved ice.

Then, you flop back on your bed and doom scroll for a few minutes before you have to sign in on Slack.

*****

It becomes a habit.

Even as the weather takes a turn as fall sets in, you try and make it out to the park once a week, and without fail Morpheus is there. He’s not always feeding the ducks. But he’s always there and always leaves without saying a word.

You’re not offended when he barely acknowledges your wave as you sit down next to him. That was just what he was like. Morpheus suffered from perpetual resting bitch face because of his pouty mouth. You’d yet to see him smile.

It didn’t matter. You liked his presence. You enjoyed having company as you got fresh air.

He listened but rarely had much of a reply.

“It’s nice to go into the office and touch base with the other writers,” you muse, sipping at your drink, “make sure everything is coherent and I guess it helps to talk to people who are also living with this whole world in their head. It helps. The entire story’s been fleshed out by James, our lead.” You let the words hang in the air. Working from home was nice too. It lets you wake up at noon and crawl down the rabbit hole of your own imagination until three in the morning.

Morpheus’ tilts towards you as he continues to watch the wind sweep through the trees. A trio of teenage girls had brought an entire charcuterie board and flowers for their park day.

“Not to mention James does have to sign off on my work. I’m still pretty low on the totem pole.” This was your first full time gig out of school. Not an internship with terrible pay and long hours or freelance, but an honest to god full time job with benefits and pay that meant you could finally rent your own studio apartment. “Do you game?”

“No.”

You glance at him in profile. He remained as pale as the first time you’d seen him, but the gauntness in his cheeks had receded. There’s lines under his eyes that led you to believe he was closer to forty than your late twenties, closing in on the big 30. The Cut loved to post how everything changed at thirty.

“It’s fun. I didn’t really get into them until high school but that was only because my parents bought into the whole video games cause violence schtick but like, I wanted to play pokemon not Call of Duty, at least when I was nine.” You smile, thinking back on fond memories, “then I started going over to Michael’s house after school and we’d play Zelda and Fallout. His parents were complete nerds who knew Klingon so they were cool about us playing whatever they were also playing.” Your parents would not have approved of Left 4 Dead.

“I will take your word for it,” Morpheus tells you, sitting back against the bench.

You sip your tea. It’s still warm enough that the ice is melting away, watering down the taro flavor. “Or you could come over sometime and play Stardew Valley?” You pick a tree and stare at it. You were nervous about his reaction. But it had been weeks. At some point you had to make plans and grab a burger or a drink. That’s just what friends did and if you left it up to Morpheus it would probably take a year. That’s all. It had nothing to do with how your heart sped up the moment you spotted his familiar head of hair in the park. It had nothing to do with the anticipation that had you smiling like a fool on Wednesdays when you routinely went to the park.

He doesn’t respond, his expression dour.

After a beat of silence, you find it within yourself to look at him.

Morpheus meets your searching gaze with his own. You could see the emotions playing out in his blue eyes, but you could not read them. Like the eyes of a bird of prey, you could see the intelligence, the life and consciousness within, but lacked the ability to understand them the way you could read other people.

The corners of his mouth lift, his smile a precious thing you couldn’t turn away if you wanted to. “Perhaps,” he allows. “Once the image of an avenging Mina Harker fills the minds of dreamers around the world.”

Smiling softly you reply, “Only if it’s successful.” You could never be sure with indie games.

“It will be,” Morpheus states.

“I try not to focus too hard on what happens after it’s released and out of my hands. What will be will be.”

He nods.

You finish your tea.

It was a lovely day. The August sun was not so harsh after four. There were less people as families planned for a return to school. The tourists stopped visiting the Northwest in droves.

And maybe Morpheus would come over.

That was more than you’d had yesterday.

You could even show him the demo of-

You bite your lip, trying to think if you had let anything slip about Project: Dracul City. Developing games came with a strict gag order. Nothing could leak before it’s time, not the gameplay or plot or any of the concept art. Usually, you were pretty good about keeping quiet.

Surely you hadn’t told him.

And yet he’d known.

You frown.

“Do you wish to feed the ducks as well?”

His words break your line of thought. You hadn’t even noticed the crinkling sound of the paper bag as he opened the birdseed up.

“These ducks must be the most spoiled in all the public parks,” you muse, smiling at Morpheus before grabbing a handful of feed and tossing it lightly into the grass.

It was exciting to see the ducks and birds come over. The shyer animals waited to see if it was safe. They all had their own personalities.

You’re not bothered by his lack of response, the conversation stilling. You’d grown to like his taciturn ways. It gave what he did say more weight. He wore black like a uniform and over the course of the weeks in which you had been meeting up with him (undiscussed by either of you) he had become beautiful in your eyes. You wanted to run your fingers through his unkempt hair. You wanted to steal away his smiles for yourself: to know you could make such a dour man smile because he couldn’t help himself around you.

You reach for more birdseed only to find that Morpheus had left.

Figures.

*****

Unsuccessfully, you try to wipe away the number written on the cup of hot apple cider, otherwise known as the perfect fall drink as the leaves grew into vibrant array of reds and oranges with the change in seasons as the days grew cold.

The cashier had been nice, but you were only interested in one man.

The sharpie doesn’t budge at all.

You give up trying to get the sharpie off when you spot Morpheus. “Hey I got you a drink since it’s starting to get cold out.” It wasn’t coat season for you yet, but you’d started wearing a sweater while running all over town.

You hold out one of the cups, the one without the number scribbled on it.

His eyes widen, pink lips parting in surprise. But he makes no move to reach for the cup you’re offering.

“It’s apple cider,” you tack on, “warm you right up.”

He blinks.

You roll your eyes, “just take it and say thank you.”

It works. Morpheus nods, taking the cup from you, his fingers cool when they brush against your skin. “This was not necessary.”

“I know,” you say, plopping down next to him. “But I wanted to.”

“Thank you,” he inclines his head toward you. The sincerity in his voice is clear as a bell.

Heat blooms on your cheeks. “You're welcome.” Again, you smile at him as you take a sip of your cup, “I can’t wait until the street vendors start having roasted chestnuts.”

“You enjoy winter.”

“Yeah. Some of it,” you laugh, “The snow can get annoying at times but more and more I find myself taking the time to enjoy the little things. It’s not like I’m working towards getting into college, getting a degree or anything anymore. I’m just enjoying life, yeah?” You flush. In your head it sounded wise, but out loud you just sounded naive.

“My sister shares your thoughts.”

You arch a brow, “you have a sister! Older or younger?”

With a slight smile, Morpheus answers, “older.” He must be fond of her.

“Well she’s right. It’s hard at first. I’d pick up flowers for myself and then think about what a waste of money they were but why not. I like having flowers. Or I’d make up excuses not to go out with my coworkers to stay in but if you do that enough times they’ll stop inviting you and you fall into a rut and that’s no way to live. And some people are so different outside of work.” The older you get, the easier being content becomes.

Stop and smell the roses indeed.

Then you ask him, deviating from your unspoken plans, “do you want to walk around?”

“If you wish to.”

“I do, but we don’t have to.”

Morpheus stands, and you take that for the answer that it is.

******

The grass tickles your calves as you wander through the meadow. The sun paints the sky in hues of orange as it sinks below the treeline.

It’s lucky it’s not raining.

On your first trip to this national park, it had rained the entire time. Not surprising. Rain was a constant companion in this city, but it was more than worth it when you got this lovely meadow all to yourself. Wildflowers were sprinkled throughout the grass.

You’d always wanted to come back, splurge on the fancy lodge instead of being in a tent and hoping the rain wouldn’t get through the plastic. Plans to come-

You blink, looking around slowly.

Was this a dream?

You try to string your thoughts together: trying to remember how you got here. It was fall. Not spring. It’s hard, your brain feels like it's sinking into a thick comforter, the way it always feels when you’re on the border of deep sleep.

Taking in the scenery, the solace, you let your train of thought dissolve and you give into the nonsensical logic of dreams, letting yourself fall back into deep sleep.

It’s lovely.

You sit down in the grass as the leaves take flight, butterflies in the air twirling in constellations before settling back down in the branches. These trees were unmatched by anything you’d seen before. It only made you wish to see more, go to more places.

“You are fond of the natural world.”

Turning, you find Morpheus sitting next to you. His long coat is no longer black but a starry night. Stars twinkle in the depth of the fabric as you take him in with wide eyes.

“Morpheus,” you’re delighted to see him.

And because this is a dream, you don’t hesitate to reach out, crossing boundaries without a thought, you brush your fingers over his shoulder, half expecting your hand to go right through and slide into an abyss of night. That doesn’t happen.

Sheepishly, you meet his gaze.

His eyes are black unfathomless pits with a sole pinprick of light for a pupil. At this, you draw back.

Morpheus says nothing, regarding you carefully.

You blink.

And when you can bear to meet his waiting gaze again, his eyes are clear as ever. It must have been a trick of the light.

“I didn’t expect to see you here,” you note lamely. The national park wasn’t exactly close.

“I have business to contend with,” Morpheus replies, which leaves you with more questions than answers. You didn’t even know what he did for work. “We will not be able to meet in the Waking world for some time.”

“Oh,” you answer, crushed. It was ridiculous to feel so intensely about someone who was the equivalent of a classroom friend. You didn’t even have his number. Lin, your coworker, would call that a red flag.

His words sink in and, “the waking world?” Now you’re just confused.

His brow furrows with concern. “We are in The Dreaming.”

“I don’t understand.”

Morpheus frowns. “This a dream, your dream.” The sky goes periwinkle as snow starts falling. “And I am King of Dreams, Ruler of the Nightmare Realms.”

“Oh,” you go, “should I bow or something?”

Your words elicit a rare smile from the dour man.

It made your smile grow, to know that you had made him smile.

“There is no need,” the small smile stays on his pink lips.

“No off with her head” you joke, accepting dream logic and not questioning it as you quote the Queen of Hearts.

Morpheus frowns. “I would not be so crude.”

“Oh so I should be worried,” you wiggle your brows.

“Not of me.” He utters softly, his eyes become glassy. “Not while you are under my protection.” Morpheus reaches for you. The back of his hand ghosts over your cheek.

You lean into his touch without a thought.

You meet his gaze unabashed.

He blinks slowly, peering at you through dark lashes. There was a sedate romance to him that the Brontë sisters could only dream of.

“I cannot stay,” he confesses with remorse.

“You did say you had stuff to do.”

“I do.”

His hand is soft against your cheek. Neither of you move, resting in the moment, holding the pause for as long as possible.

Morpheus draws away, standing. Snow falls around you but the temperature remains pleasant. Snowflakes fall on your arms and do not melt.

You stand.

It’s the awkward point where you’re waiting for him to leave but don’t want him to leave and he’s dragging it out too. You’ve been through this plenty of times on friends' doorsteps as you chat and say goodbye and wait.

He stuffs his hands in his coat. It touches the ground, melting away the snow around the hem with its soft red flames, more ember than anything.

Morpheus makes no move to leave.

You wait, taking in the sight of him. Snowflakes fall in his unbrushed hair.

“Here,” Morpheus draws something from his pocket.

“Oh.”

He drops it in your outstretched palm without ceremony. Morpheus looks away as you study the object.

It’s a necklace. The chain is simple gold. It’s the pendant that catches your eye.

Encased in glass are grains of sand. They swirl inside the glass on their own.

“Thank you,” you look over at him.

Morpheus nods slightly. “It allows you to enter The Dreaming at will.”

“A standing invitation then,” you wink.

“Yes.” He has a talent for filling words with a weight beyond their common vernacular. Morpheus’ gaze is heavy on you.

You can’t parse out why this is so important, but it obviously is for him.

You unlock the clasp, wrapping the chain around your neck. With your fingertips, you try to lock it. The clasp is impossible when you cannot see it.

The hairs at your nape get in the way.

“Allow me.” Morphues closes the distance between you.

“Yeah, that would be great.”

He takes the chain from you, his fingers brushing against the back of your neck. He works swiftly, making quick work of it.

The pendant hangs in the middle of your chest.

Your heartbeat is hummingbird quick.

Morpheus’s breath tickles your nape.

You don’t dare move, fearing this is all a dream that will end if you do anything.

“I shall be expecting you.”

“I’ll be sure not to disappoint. Though it’s about to be crunch time and I’m not looking forward to-”

His actions cut you off.

Morpheus leans forward, his lips brushing against your neck chastely.

You draw in a breath.

The moment is over in the blink of an eye.

Something witty, sure to ruin the moment, is on the tip of your tongue as you turn, looking over your shoulder. But he’s gone.

****

The sand continues to swirl, defying gravity inside the pendant, when you wake.

You play with it as you scroll through files, read through work emails, and desperately try to recall the details of your dream.

You’ve never been more excited to sleep in your life.

#morpheus x reader #morpheus x you #morpheus x y/n #dream of the endless x reader #the sandman #an understanding #lmao i love miscommunication as a trope #to morpheus: he explained what he is perfectly #meanwhile readers like: idk whats going on but im into it #unedited as usual

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seepylilthing · 1 year

Text

Your eyes flutter open, you register the skeletal figure resting in your arms . Sighing softly, Sans was still fast asleep in your embrace .

But that's how it always was, you were always the first to wake up . And you didn't mind it one bit, especially on days when you didn't work . The feeling of your bodies intertwined like puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together was something that you cherished .

You reach a hand up to stroke the back of his skull, smiling as you heard a contented hum escape him . Ah, he was so cute when he was asleep .

You didn't wanna leave your bed, at least not until he woke up . So you would stay here for a while, snuggling the sleeping skeleton, leaving an occasional kiss on his forehead .

Eventually his closed eye sockets would open slowly, tired eyes looking up at you as you held him close .

"hi . . . " he'd say sleepily .

"Hey there, sleepy bones . . ." You'd speak softly, pressing another kiss upon his forehead . "Good morning, my dear ."

"mornin . . ." He says, but he closes his eyes and nestles himself further into the embrace .

You chuckle, squeezing him gently .

"Hey I thought we were waking up !" You squish your cheek to the top of his head, despite your statement you wouldn't mind staying here a little longer .

"nah ." He puts simply . "comfy here ."

You roll onto your back, now holding him atop you like a loafing cat .

"Yeah, I'm comfy here too . . ." You sigh .

"heh . . ." He lifts his head slightly to place a little kiss on your cheek . "you don't work today right . . . ? we could stay here all day . . ."

"As incredible as that would be, we'll have to eat eventually ." You keep one arm around him as you other rests at your side, and you stare at the ceiling .

"hm . you have a point ." He nuzzles your neck . "you should stop being so cozy then ."

"Hehe, I dunno if that's possible, Sans ." You continue to stroke the back of his skull .

He hums softly, closing his eyes again .

"i love you ." He's melting at your touch .

"I love you too . . ." You chuckle . "Now let's get up, yeah ?"

"hmmmm . . . carry me . . . ?" He opens his eyes, looking at you with that stupid grin .

"You're too much, do you know that ?" You sit up, placing both your hands to cup his cheeks .

He raises his hands to hold onto your arms .

"it's not my fault you're so warm . . ." He retorts .

"Yeah it is," You press your forehead to his . "Because you warm my heart ."

"wow, that's so corny, [Y/N] ." He has that smug look on his face .

". . . I'm gonna kill you ." You say .

"i think you should kiss me instead, it'd be a lot more polite ." He says so nonchalantly .

You can't help but laugh at this, letting out a small "Fine, fine !" as you lean in to kiss him .

There was hardly ever a sad moment when you were around him, and even when there was, you would always comfort each other through it . And in moments like these, you felt as if you were truly, always made for one another .

Pulling your lips away, gently caressing his now soft blue cheekbones with your thumbs, you smile so warmly to your dear husband .

"You're the best . . ." You whisper .

"yes you are ." He replies .

#take my writing skills away from me im filling tumblr with sans x reader #sans #sans the skeleton #undertale #undertale x reader #sans x reader #sans x you #sans x y/n #sans undertale #sans fanfic #undertale fanfiction

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hearts4blyth · 2 months

Text

“𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠”

!peacekeeper coryo x fem reader! 🍃🧺🎀 ࿔*:･

summary : you and corio have a picnic around the lake

♡︎away from a month but wtvv , think this one is longer than my last fanfic but hope you enjoy! any criticism or corrections are appreciated ♡︎

note ; bye wasn’t even my intention to make this a lil bit long but im jumping off a bridge tomorrow

(finally a moment where Corio and y/n could have a moment of peace and quietness away from the people,away from the districts and away from the capital.)

your down in the trail with coriolanus beside you with the slight breeze hitting your strands of hair and the sun hitting its reflection through your little sundress,the laughter and with the blades of grass ticking your ankles

of course it wasn’t much bother to Coriolanus much just wearing his same peacekeeper uniform pants and just his white tank.

continuing their trail, following you wondering where this picnic could be.

“cmon coryo!” you smiled at him and exclaimed in a tone of a jokingly matter

then right after you reach for his hand so maybe by that he could keep up with your pace. coryo didn’t quite understand what you were all rushed up for but he didn’t say a thing, just finding it a bit obnoxious but either way he found your ways cute.

without even realizing it your finally at the spot, being distracted by the atmosphere nothing like the capital that’s for sure. with the weeds and grass just growing wildly , the sound of the lake and its waters , flowers blooming beautifully looking like the dress you were wearing matching perfectly.

୨ ࿔*:･

“isn’t it beautiful?” you ask letting go of coryo’s hand, in glee turning around, coryo smiles back at you and agrees exclaiming “better than i thought” he gives out a small scoff and it is beyond of what he could imagine sure a few mosquitos were pissing him off down in the trail but he just wanted to see you happy having this moment with him.

coryo taking over and helping you with setting down the picnic mat, after then sitting down on the mat you take out a small piece of loaf bread and a jar of homemade jam, spreading the jam into the loaf you give it to coryo and takes it as he sinks his teeth into the bread you gave him.

you then sit back and relax with the breeze setting down more with the warmth hitting your skin, grabbing a cherry from the basket and taking a bite from it leaving a cherry tint stain on your reddened lips.

just a quiet moment between you enjoying the atmosphere you sit up and turn you body to face coryo and ask him if there’s anything like this in the capital. he replies with a small response saying “nothing i see here could be seen over there, buildings and reconstruction just.”

sharing a moment like this,with your smile and the sound of laughter coming from each other, and having bites from the pickings you brought.

digging your teeth for a small bite of another cherry leaving a tint of it on your lips, and leaning your head down onto Coriolanus shoulder, turning his head down and seeing your lips with the taints of cherry on those lips, making him tilt your head up and having a sweet passionate kiss as an excuse to get rid of the stain from your lips.

you let go from the little kiss, then laying your head down on his lap caressing her hair then leaning in for another kiss but was filled with a more longer stroke of passion. letting go, both are just smiling under each others gazes with y/n caressing coryo’s sharp cheekbones then letting go with both admiring the quietness of the atmosphere again.

♡︎ i hoped yall liked it! if you’d like please consider reblogging this, which helps on gaining reach n ppl liking this! tyty for reading ! ︎♡︎

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saturnsorbits · 3 months

Text

On Watching the Man you Love, Love Someone Else

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warnings: Period-esque, Angst, The Bastardisation of a Longer Piece I'll Never Finish. Word Count: 4k.

Summary: Set to pull the job of a lifetime, Sero's band of wayward thieves are left short when Camie runs off. But could her leaving be the catalyst for more than just a new plan?

A/N: It genuinely hurts a little to let this piece go. I worked on the idea for a while, and really did fall a little in love with this Reader, but ultimately the idea just wasn’t meant to be finished in a word count I could commit to. This piece has so much potential, I’m just not enough of a writer to properly do it justice… I’ve tweaked some pieces, the conversation that occurs with Sero at the end was originally supposed to take place between Reader and Cammie for example - but this is as cohesive as I could get it. Anyway… I hope at least someone enjoys this…

'Gone.'

A chair hits the floor, wood creaking as the legs snap and splinter.

'Fucking gone.' Sweeping an arm across a table, Sero sees the end to a bottle of wine and two half-full glasses. They smash and paint the floor red. 'Fucking – fuck!'

'With all due respect...' Standing in the doorway to the office, Shinso ducks a rogue paper weight as it's hefted at his head. It cracks against the brick behind him before dropping to the floor and rolls until his boot comes down on it. '… It was just a matter of time before she took off again.'

Sero's head snaps up from where he's hunched over his desk. His arms are shaking, hands marked and scratched from his tantrum as he forces out a breath through gritted teeth. 'Don't patronise me right now.'

'Is it patronising to just state a fact?' Shinso arches an eyebrow.

Sucking a long breath up through his nose, Sero inhales until his lungs begin to burn. 'I'll bury a stiletto in your skull.'

'You're not quick enough.'

'I'll -.'

'Stop threatening me, when we both know you're just upset that you've proven to be too uninteresting to entertain your lady-love again.' Bending at the hip, Shinso snatches the paper weight from under his foot and tosses the stone in his hand. With an amused boredom, he slips a small pocket knife from the rim of his boot and begins to scratch. 'What did she take this time?'

'Her shares of the last score, half the dried meat, the last mill-seed loaf, two of the expensive dresses and the...' Biting the inside of his cheeks, Sero's eyes drop to the floor. 'She took the Todoroki.'

A laugh bursts from Shinso's chest. 'Good fuckin' riddance.'

'I liked that painting.' Sero growls. 'Almost lost my fucking head stealing it too.'

'Oh, I remember...' Biting down his smile, Shinso licks at his lips and clears his throat. 'Worry not brother, we still have a game ahead.' He snickers. 'Maybe we'll be able to snatch you another.'

Sero seethes, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he grinds his teeth until he feels the molars catch. 'The game's pretty much fucked now that Camie's taken off again.'

'No.' Shinso shakes his head. 'I know it's hard for you to think beyond yourself sometimes, but there's more than just one woman in this piss-poor little gang of ours capable of playing a darling Duke's daughter.'

Setting himself back down in his chair, Sero sighs. He digs a knuckle into his eye. 'Make sure she's ready for the first touch tomorrow morning. I don't want us to spend any longer on this than we have to.'

With mock decency, Shinso folds himself over in a low bow before standing and stretching out his shoulders. 'Certainly... Now, I'll leave you to your moping, my Lord. Feel free not to trouble us while you're constitution has you acting so pathetic.' A wide grin takes his lip, but before Sero can think of rising from his chair in another fit of anger, Shinso tosses the paper weight straight at his head. 'Catch.'

Snatching the stone from the air, Sero flips it over in his palm exposing the rough outline of a broken heart and a crude crying stick figure on his knees beside it. He's too slow as he hefts it back at the now closed door of his office.

Shinso's footsteps retreat, echoing around the cold stone of the corridor beyond; his low laughter following close on his heels. Sero slams a fist on his desk. 'Fucking bastard!'

'The Queen of Thieves has -.' Kirishima wobbles as he descends the stairs into the kitchen, you in his arms, with only Tetsutestu's hand on the broad of his shoulders to stop him from toppling over.

'For the love of -.' Bakugo hisses. Spinning around from his post in front of the stove, he digs a fist into his hip and glowers. 'Keep it down.'

Tipping you out of his arms, Kirishima slinks toward Bakugo. His head dips, cheeks glowing soft as he slips his arms around the smaller man and plants a kiss on his cheek. 'Sorry, baby...'

'He might be sorry...' Skipping up to the large, oak dining table set central in the room you unhook a large, bulging coin purse from your shoulder and empty it out onto the table. Coins of gold and silver clatter onto the wood, flowing from the bag until the entire surface of the table shines. '… But, I'm not. We're celebrating.'

Bakugo's eyebrows dip. 'You ran a score.'

'We did.' You beam. 'Stole a bunch of machine parts from Ingenium's.'

'Ingenium's is protected by the League.' Venom drips into Bakugo's voice, his teeth grinding as he levels a spoon with your head. He's about to shout, the vein in his temple already bulging, but before he manages to bark, you're grinning.

'And -' You lift a palm to stop him. 'When poor little Tenya wakes up in the morning and discovers that his four gold pieces a week to the League hasn't stopped his precious shop from being turned over, he's going to look elsewhere and who else do we know who has a reputation for keeping thieves away?'

Bakugo tries not to let it show, but pride makes his chest puff out and his eyes shine. 'I should be mad that you're whoring my boyfriend out as hired muscle...'

'But...' Your eyebrows dance on your forehead. 'But, you've just put the biggest score I've seen all year on that bloody table -.'

Kirishima pecks at Bakugo's cheek again, twisting from where he had been dipping his fingers in the bubbling soup on the stove behind his boyfriends back. 'Don't forget the bank notes. We've got bank notes too...'

A snort breaks from Bakugo's chest. '… And guaranteed us another solid four gold a week, so -.'

This time it's Tetsutetsu who breaks into Bakugo's speech. 'We put our prices up two weeks ago. It's eight pieces now. Seemed fitting since there's two of us; an not just one bruiser like the other gangs are offering.'

This time Bakugo does laugh. He throws his head back, shoulders bouncing as he slips from Kirishima's hold and stalks towards you. Opening his arms, he wraps himself around your waist and lifts, spinning you around once before letting you back to your feet. 'If I were into women I'd kiss you breathless, you little fucking genius.'

You giggle and lace your hands behind his neck. 'I'd love to take all the credit, but -.'

'But she was the mastermind behind it all...' Kirishima beams. 'We just stood by and looked scary.'

Tetsutetsu offers. 'We helped lift the machine parts too!'

'It was a joint effort.' You concede, letting Bakugo drift back to the stove, after ordering the boys to set the table.

'What's this?' Shinso appears at the bottom of the basement stairs like a ghost. His hair is wild, torn back as if he'd been caught in a gale and the usual bags under his eyes are deeper and more pronounced.

You look up, half way through scooping another handful of coin back into your pouch. 'A score.'

Leveling you with a bored stare, Shinso raises his eyebrows. 'I'd gathered that much. I was -.'

'Ingeniums.' Bakugo cuts in. 'They can explain over dinner. Sit.'

Shinso obliges, slipping into a seat at the table. 'I have news of Mina.'

That perks everyone's ears.

Producing a letter from his inner jacket pocket, he brandishes it in the air. 'She seems to be enjoying the sea air down south, says she's learned a lot from Midnight.'

Bakugo snatches the letter, quickly skimming through the neatly written hand. He hums. 'Established some links with the Mirko company – could be useful.'

Reading over his shoulder, Kirishima snatches the letter as soon as Bakugo's eyes reach the bottom. 'I miss her.'

'Me too.' You sigh. 'She'll only be gone another month...'

'And we can welcome her back with a score.' Shinso grins, his crooked teeth nipping gently at his lower lip.

Eyebrows furrowing, you glance around the table. 'But -.'

'You're to the play the Duke's daughter instead.'

'I -.' Part of you wants to argue, but you know there's no point. There's only one reason that you're to take the roll of the Duke's daughter, after all.

'I'll take a look at the dresses tomorrow, see what we've got that fits... I can always adjust one of Camie's.' Bakugo offers.

The conversation dissolves then, the room filling with plans and laughter as the bowls we're cleared away and a plate of freshly baked cookies took their place on the table. Bathing in the revelry of having the crew, mostly, all together, you barely notice as the sun begins to slip from the sky leaving the kitchen soaked in the soft glow of lamp light. It isn't until Bakugo yawns, declaring it bedtime, that everyone begins to slowly make their way to their retrospective rooms.

Bakugo heads off first, Kirishima dutifully in toe behind him as they slip into one of the backrooms where a small, stuffed mattress awaited them.

Shortly after Tetsutetsu turns in, slipping into a his coat and swiping a singular golden coin from the stash as he trots back up the stairs, presumably on his way to find something comely to warm his bed for the night.

Lastly, it's Shinso, who offers you a knowing look when you dish out one last portion of soup and dutifully turn towards the upper bedrooms.

He rolls up his sleeves and sighs before dipping them into the soapy water filling the sink, listening as your steps echo as you climb. No-one comments on the empty chair at the head of the table.

Wrapping your knuckles on the office door, you balance the soup dish on your wrist while trying to shove open the door he's evidently jambed shut. Sometimes, you really do wish he where less fickle.

'I brought you food...' Your voice is low, sweet in the back of your throat as you edge into the room and spot him laying on his bunk.

'You didn't come down for dinner.'

Sero grunts, not moving his eyes from the ceiling. 'I'm not hungry.'

'Hanta... You can't keep doing this to yourself. You've barely a week of starvation in you and we're coming up on day three.'

'Just leave me.'

'Listen, I know -.'

'Know?' He sits up then, eyes burning as he fights the tick in his jaw.

'Please. Tell me what you fucking know...' Tongue licking at his back teeth he growls, spitting his words at your feet. 'You're probably loving this, aren't you? She's gone. I'm as good as bloody kept now, aren't I.'

'I don't.'

'Don't act stupid, Dearest.' He coos, but there's no fondness in his tone. 'I know how you look at me. Gods, if I all, but stretched out here and welcomed you to bed I bet you'd ride me out of sheer desperation while I laid back and thought of her.' A murky laugh bubbles in his throat as he cocks his head to one side, legs spreading in mocking invitation. 'That brother of mine seems to enjoy sharing his pallet with you often enough, maybe you're in want for a change of cock.'

Cocking your hip, you dig a fist into the fat there. Your nails dig into your palm, carving out raw half-cresents in the skin. 'Have you finished?'

'Ha. Have you been practicing that? If I'm inclined to forget half of my life, you're almost a semi-decent imitation.'

'I know you're hurting, Hanta. All's I'm asking is that you -.'

'You really shouldn't try so hard, y'know... To be her. Take it from a mummer himself, you'll never come close to the real thing.'

'I'm not trying to be her. It's you who wants that, Hanta. Not me. If she where me, she'd be the one stood here trying to stop you from starving yourself to death like a pathetic divorcee and I'd be off somewhere else doing God only fucking knows what...' You collect yourself, if only just and place the bowl on the floor at your feet. 'Now eat. One good meal won't get in the way of you being love-sick.'

Turning on your heel, you bite your lip. It's all you can do to stop the tears. The marks on your palm sting, but even that is a dull comparison to the claw marks now inflicted across your heart. You've barely reached the bottom step when you hear it, a scuffling that gets your hopes up, before a loud bang shatters them once more. You don't bother to hear what is muttered in the dark after it, you don't care to know.

'He's a mean bastard...' You whisper to yourself, violently clearing your face before stepping foot back in the kitchen.

Shinso is still there where you left him, a pile of newly clean plates by his side.

'Sorry for abandoning the chores.' You force a smile, rolling up the sleeves of your shirt as you prepare to dip them into the sink. Shinso just chuckles. He dips a new plate into the water and hisses.

'S'nothing. He still acting like a kicked puppy?'

''fraid so... Matter of fact.' Pulling your hands back before they hit water, you pluck another bowl from the cupboard and set about spooning out another helping of soup from the pot still bubbling on the stove. 'Would you mind taking him up another dish? He won't take anything from me and I'm pretty sure I heard him toss the last down the stairs. I'm rather hoping you'll have more luck.' Once the bowl is full, you slip it onto the table and reach for a loaf of bread.

Cracking it in half, you lay it on a plate. 'I'll finish up here.'

'I -.' Shinso sighs, wiping his hands on a chequered rag.

'It's fine, really.'

There it is, that forced smile again. Shinso chews the inside of his mouth.

'We're already a hand down tonight, what's one more? It's been a while since I've had the kitchen to myself.'

'As his brother, it pains me to say this, but he really isn't worth half of the trouble.' He takes the dishes from the table and cocks an eyebrow at you as you busy yourself with the ones already in the sink.

You laugh, snorting before shooting Shinso an equally as amused look. 'Says the man who routinely puts himself in harms way for said brother.'

'That's different.' He deadpans. 'He's never picked up a habit of making me cry.'

You drop the dish in your hands. 'I'm not -.'

Now, it's Shinso's turn to snort. 'I know how long it takes to get from here to his room and back again and you where about ten minutes too long, even with all the vile things I can guess he spat at you. Plus...' He reaches up and smooths his knuckles across the curve of your cheekbone. 'Your cheeks are red.'

'I -.'

'I'll take him the soup, but I'm doing it for you. He could starve for a week longer for all I care.'

'Thank you, 'Toshi.'

'You're one of us. We look after our own...' He grinds his teeth, tipping his head. 'Or at least, we're supposed to.'

Sero rolls his eyes as soon as soon as the door is kicked open. He's laid back on his bunk, arms folded underneath his head, eyes trained carefully on one particularly large spot of mould on the ceiling. 'Just because a different man holds the spoon, doesn't mean I'm more likely to eat'

Not bothering to pause, Shinso marches across the room in barely two strides. 'Just as well I haven't brought you a spoon then, isn't it?' He tips the bowl onto Sero's exposed stomach.

Sero yells, scolded.

'You, Sero Hanta, are the biggest cock I've ever fucking met.'

Wincing through the radiating burn, Sero manages to huff out a cocky snort. 'Why, thank you.'

'She's just trying to help'

'Well I don't fucking need it.' Reaching under his bed, Sero snatches up his discarded nightshirt to clean the spill from his skin. 'Nor, do I need you soiling my bed clothes.'

'Be glad it's just soup.'

Sero opens his mouth to speak, but is quickly silenced again by his brothers glare.

'You break her little heart twice a day and she doesn't trouble you with it and yet, every time Cam runs off – somehow it's her that bares the brunt.' Shinso folds his arms across his chest. 'She's a nice girl, Hanta... She's family.'

'Ah, so you are fucking her after all.' He chuffs. 'What is it? Jealous she's still got a taste for my cock?'

A growl builds in the back of Shinso's throat, the muscle in his jaw flaring as he grinds his teeth. 'I'm going to pretend to have misheard what you're attempting to insinuate for your own fucking good... Get a grip of yourself before I have to knock some sense into your myself.'

'Consider me fully scolded.' Sero clicks his tongue. 'Is that all you came here to do?'

'She's done your half of the washing and made preparations for tomorrow night; thought you could do with a few nights off. So you can mope here all week for all anyone gives a shit.'

Sero sits up at that, his eyes wide. 'She's supposed to be doing the first touch tomorrow -.'

'And she's still offered to do your half of the choring... ' Shaking his head, Shinso sighs. 'She's more than you deserve. That's for damn sure. Without her, we'd fall apart.'

Sero pauses. Chewing the inside of his cheek, he swings his legs over the side of his bed and sits up. 'Is there anymore soup?'

'Yeah.' Shinso chuckles, gesturing the bed. 'In a puddle on your blanket by the look of it... If you want a fresh bowl, you'll have to get it yourself.' He strides off towards the door, but stops at the door to turn back over his shoulder. 'And you best be as gracious as a fucking priest when you do.'

The water is scolding your hands. Your wrists have vanished, lost below the soapy bubbles as you fish for the last bits of cutlery lost in the sink. Behind you, the stairs creek making the muscles of your back tense even as you try to keep your shoulders relaxed. Maybe it's the years you've lived together, or the fact that your heart skips a beat each time you hear him, but there's no mistaking the foot falls for anyone other than Sero Hanta.

He appears, shirtless, at the foot of the stairs, but doesn't press into the kitchen.

You ignore him. Focusing instead on the burning of your hands as you pluck a fork from the water and begin to clean it.

Sero clears his throat.

Still, you clean.

He sighs, stuffing his hands into his pockets before approaching the stove. Lifting the lid of the pot, he inhales through the steam that leaps from inside. 'Do you mind if I -.'

Turning, you absently pass him a bowl. 'There's still some clean spoons in the draw.'

'Thank you.'

You nod.

Spooning a decent helping of soup into a bowl, Sero takes his time choosing a spoon. It's mindless work, a waste of time as his mind whirrs – trying frantically to come up with something, anything to say to you.

The thing is, Shinso's right. You are more than he deserves and then some, but he's never been good with sweet things. That's why him and Cammie work so well.

They don't.

With you, there would be the possibility of a future. One that involves a quiet life, without crimes and games, a small house and weekly breakfasts with Bakugo and Kirishima, fuck... Children, a pretty little stone shining on your delicate finger.

He could give you all of that, but he can't give you what he knows you really crave.

He doesn't turn around when he speaks, instead, he hangs his head and talks to cream of his soup. 'You know I wish it were different...'

'It isn't that hard not to be a cunt, Hanta.'

'You know what I mean.' He winces.

You chuckle, but its a cruel noise that trickles off of your lips. 'So what is it? You wish I didn't yearn for your affections, or that you loved me like you love her?'

'Yes, well...'

Yanking your hands from the water, you splay your palms on the cold surface beside the sink. You're used to this, the numbness that so often overtakes you. The knowledge of your unrequited affection is like a balm, a prickling salve that serves not to sooth, but to prolong your suffering.

If you were able to let go, you would have, but you've loved him since you first laid eyes on him all those years ago when two scared children had come together for scarce more than survival.

'I sound bitter, I didn't mean -.'

He chuckles. 'You did. It's okay. I think that might be the normal thing.'

'What?'

'To hate me. To, to -.'

Your eyebrows furrow, your heart giving out in your chest as you consider a world in which his assumption might me true. 'I don't hate you.'

Turning finally, Sero leans back against the wooden surface of the kitchen counter. He licks his lips. 'You should.'

You lift your head, twisting until you can look at him.

At first glance, you'd be forgiven to think that his eyes were black, but on closer inspection, or under the right light, the faint, deep chocolate of his iris' shimmer – soaking up the light around each of his blown pupils. Now, with them trained on you, you're allowed to bask until you lose your nerve. Dropping your gaze, you tangle your fingers with one another. 'I could never.'

A sadness washes over him. 'You'd be better off finding refuge under Kaminari or Monoma.'

'Hardly a satisfactory refuge...' You chuckle, letting the noise lighten your mood.

He shares in your laughter, before allowing the sound to die on the back of his throat. Turning back to the counter, he palms the bowl of soup and slips a spoon into his pocket.

In two short steps he stops in front of you. His spare hand reaches out, curling around your shoulder. The tips of his fingers dig gently into the flesh and muscle covering your shoulder blade as his thumb smooths over the dip of your collarbone: caressing. Your skin blooms for him, heat rising through you as you allow yourself to think of all the other touches he could gift you, but any further thought is silenced as the gentle press of his lips touches to your forehead. Lingering, his lips hover barely a millimetre above his kiss.

'You deserve better than me.' He whispers it into your hair line before stepping away.

You feel the chill of him leaving, feeling an odd sense of abandonment and longing settle bone deep inside of you as he crosses back across the kitchen, towards the stairs. He's talking, but you don't quite register the words, not even as he calls your name.

'Forget the touch tomorrow. We'll scrap the job. It was a terrible plan anyway...' He hums. 'I think I should take some time away, let Bakugo and Shinso handle things for a while, maybe.'

He's gone, almost at his room, you'd guess by the time you leave your trance. Your fingertips find his kiss, touch gently against the skin there and feel the warmth of his lips as it slips, absorbed by your skin.

You smile.

He might not be able to give you what you want, what you crave. But, you'll always have this.

A singular, sorrow-filled kiss.

-> Masterlist

#Sero x Reader #Sero Hanta x Reader #Sero Angst #MHA x Reader #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles

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acatpiestuff · 26 days

Text

hehehe. new ref for my pokemon oc Toddy, with some lore bits sprinkled in here and there. They've grown over the time I've had them...

TRANSCRIPT OF ALL THE WRITING UNDER THE READ MORE:

Name: Toddy Age: [UNKNOWN] Pronouns: ALL Height: 6'2" (188 cm) - selectively mute - baker - immortal - doesn't battle often [Toddy is a taller, slightly chubby person with wavy dark purple hair and round glasses. They have olive skin, and are wearing grey socks, brown baggy pants, and a green sweater with a collar. On the green sweater, there are little white tulips embroidered on the righthand breast of the sweater. Over the sweater, Toddy is wearing a dark grey cardigan.]

Notes on Toddy's Visage and Background:

Hand embroidered clothing. Prefers comfort and utility over style.

From the civilization that created the golurk

is held together by ghosts of his hometown, which prevents him from dying

woke up in a field of white tulips, where his town used to be

travels with the last remaining golurk from his town.

Home Base is in Pinwheel Forest. Small cabin w/ garden + brick oven (self-made)

[Toddy has] homemade socks.

[her] hair is wavy and messy.

[ There are two sketches of Toddy's head, one facing forward, smiling and one in profile view. There are also two tiny doodles of Toddy's eye, one drawn correctly and one drawn incorrectly as a guide.]

OTHER SCRAPS OF LORE:

Had to dig self out of soil, was partially buried. [ Image of Toddy, disheveled and covered in mud, crawling out of a pile of dirt and rubble, grass everywhere.]

Woke up in a flower field. Ancient civilization is no more. The last golurk watched over Toddy as they slept in the soil. [ Image of Toddy and Golurk looking over a valley covered in white tulips, the flowers going even over the silhouettes of the mountains on each side.

Realizes death cannot reach them through neither age nor injury. [ Image of an injured Toddy leaning against a rock, bloody and holding their wounds tightly. the silhouette of Golurk can be seen behind them.]

Has a strange relationship with the earth and the dirt. It feels like home. [ Image of Toddy lying in the flowerfield again, but this time on top of the grass. His hair is splayed out under him, as he reaches his hand over his face. [There is also a sequence of small doodles of toddy's face, one with a headband and a confused expression, and then a smaller doodle of toddy with dog ears matching the location and shape of his bangs. The last doodle is a tinier sketch of a tiny dog with round glasses, supposedly Toddy once more.]

White Tulip: associated with purity and new beginnings. [ Sketch of a white tulip in full bloom.]

Golurk's Eventual Pokeball: [ Image of a typical hisuian pokeball, with a stone top and wooden base. There is a crack running through the top of the pokeball.]

Toddy knows many ways to bake bread + baked goods.

Laments the loss of her cook book, which was lost to the destruction of the city. (READ: I meant recipe book not cook book.) [ Image of a loaf of crusty bread, in the style of a sourdough loaf.]

Toddy's Glasses: doesn't actually need them to see anymore. She used to be near-sighted. [sketch of a pair of round glasses.]

[ there is a set of small sketches, each sketch depicting Toddy in a different outfit. The first is a baker's uniform, complete with a hat and an apron with a rag tucked into the back. The second is Toddy in a oversized t-shirt with a lemon on it, and a pair of boxers. The last is a concept for a younger Toddy, with longer hair tied into a braid, and a loose hanbok-style top. Her pants are loose as well, however they are cinched at the ankles, right above her sandals. She is still wearing her round glasses in all of the sketches.]

[The final sketch is a simplified version of Toddy's face, crinkled into a huge, happy grin. There is a grinning emoji sketched underneath it, and a small notation that says "grins" above it.]

#my art #my ocs #toddy #golurk #pokemon #pokemon oc #LIKE BARELY #but still #ok actually not barely but like #ekekekekekekekekekekkek.

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palskippah · 2 months

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Hmmmm

Preg!Mario but hes in his cat or tanooki suit >:3

Hi!

Anon you're the smartest of the anons ever and also thanks for giving me an excuse to feel less embarrassed of posting preg cat Mario here ajskdjak

Here's some ideas regarding the cat suit when Mario's preggy bc about the tanuki suit I've got like one:

-When Mario's with the cat suit, his body becomes cat-like (surprise :0 omg) and that means he's much more flexible, so he really likes to use the suit when he feels overwhelmed at how much he can't do now that his pregnancy's so advanced. When he's a cat he can stretch like he wants, his belly doesn't feel as cumbersome and he can even loaf for a lil' while (until it becomes uncomfortable, and he has to change positions).

>It's for those reasons that, let's say that at the last weeks of pregnancy, Mario sleeps at night with the suit on. He sleeps soundly and wakes up feeling very rested, never mind whichever weird position he was in, he feels great.

>Now this is a problem for Peach's sleeping, because since Mario's able to pull weirder positions to sleep in, she often finds herself with a very pregnant cat just sleeping on top of her and snoring the loudest he ever has. The whole night. She doesn't say much about it, she's glad that Mario is resting and sleeping well, because before they figured out the Super Bell, he couldn't move much when sleeping, since any change in position could alter his comfort. He could be laying in his side, and if he tips a bit too forward his belly starts pulling at his back and makes it ache, but if he tips too backwards, the weight of the babies makes him feel short of breath- so basically he can't do anything without feeling discomfort.

>Before Mario was pregnant, he moved everywhere too when he slept at night, but Peach could easily hold him and pin him down and whenever he moved, she just hugged him and manhandled him to her own comfort, he always slept so deeply that he didn't really notice that he was being thrown around like a doll. BUT it's much harder when the small guy is pregnant with twins, it isn't just harder to move him since he's heavier, but also, she doesn't want to cause him discomfort nor jostle the babies too much. She doesn't want to move him around this time either, and yeah, she could just scoot away from Mario, but he always unconsciously looks around for her body to get closer. So, Peach stays right in the middle of the bed, it's much better being uncomfortable there, than at a little corner where she's still going to have Mario right over her.

-About tanuki Mario, the fact that they gain some weight when they have the Super Leaf was not pulled from my heart, the source is here SJDKSJ from Super Mario Broth's twitter. Also, I think it was the racoon power-up, but honestly I don't get the difference between that one and the tanuki one hwdwh

>So, he just feels a bit less agile with the tanuki suit on, so he doesn't use it as much unless necessary- prefers the cat suit the most :y

-One morning Peach finally snaps, and pretty much yells at Mario that she can't take it any longer and she's so sleepy. Mario jumped in place from her outburst but kept listening silently while she rambled about how Mario stays almost on top of her ALL night and he wouldn't let her fall asleep and it's been so many nights already and if she goes another night without sleeping, she'll go crazy- and when she's breathing to get her air back after all that, he says almost shyly, why don't you use a Super Bell too?

>And Peach pauses to look at him and then at the ceiling in such a deep disappointment directed to herself that Mario feels bad for having to resist the urge to laugh. Why didn't I think of that-? she asks herself, raising a hand as if ready to smack her own forehead, but then she redirects the hand and points a finger at Mario, You- I think the pregnancy brain is contagious, she mutters, with a crazed look in her eyes that completely comes from not getting her usual eight hours of sleep each night. And now Mario can't resist the giggle that left him.

>From then on, each night both sleep soundly, yippie!!

-Btw I love drawing sleeping characters with drool, it's like they're having a really good sleep aksdjsaj

-BTW look at the first drawing I made of tanuki Mario last night, to figure out how it was JSKSJD the silly

-ALSO, it was Peach who gave the solution initially askjdasd

[Mario's laying on his side partially while complaining about his back, Peach comes up with the solution of the Super Bell, and then there's Cat Mario deeply asleep in the same position as before aksjdsa]

#super mario bros #my art #mareach #mareach preggy stuff #mareach family au #mario mario #princess peach #tanooki mario #cat mario #FR anon if you're the same from the Junior movie ask- keep those ideas coming akjsdasjd they're good #BTW the asks I haven't answered yet either I still don't know how to #or there's a WIP going on HWHW #SOWWY

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kitthepurplepotato · 3 months

Text

Chapter 14 - That’s what friends are for

Summary: Izuku shows his Sweet Pea around his secret lair. Katsuki doesn’t appreciate being ignored.

One loaf of bread was murdered during the making of chapter. Blame Kirishima.

Warnings: Swear words, a lot of kisses

First Chapter Master List

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•

“I guess, I owe you an explanation.” Izuku sighs, looking anywhere but you, his cheeks tinted pink.

Honestly, you would be happier to just get a kiss, but the state of this “secret lair” is also quite concerning and would probably be nice for it to make some sense to you before you end up calling the mental hospital on the poor guy.

“That would certainly be helpful, Izu.”

The walls all covered with bookshelves on all the sides except the one with the “door”. There is a massive cork board there filled with pictures, newspaper cutouts and official statements from the agency covering up a map of the word. There is also a bigger map just of japan, that one is filled with several printouts, most of them around the Tokyo area but there are a few articles pinned to Rishiri and Wakkanai in the Hokkaido prefecture then another several to Korsakov and Nevelks in Russia.

The bookshelf are half filled with books, mostly of geography, history and other topics that might come in handy for a case and the other half is filled with thousands of notebooks, all looking worn out from the constant use.

There is a massive corner desktop a meter away from the actual corner so there is enough space for Izuku to move around the bookshelves. He could walk circles around the whole place with no problem and knowing how restless Izuku he probably did that a several thousand times already. The left part of the desktop is full of paperwork and the other one has the same single person CCTV setup as the people in his agency. By the look of it he’s been looking at a footage of a harbor before you came here.

“Okay, so…” Izuku takes a deep breath. “These notebooks are the ones I’ve written about the heroes when I was young. I’ve kept up with this hobby so there are also a few new ones there about the current heroes. This place was supposed to be my little geek corner where I can write my silly little notes and geek out over quirks. This… has changed a lot since this case came by. This place was supposed to be my mind palace, a place where I can re-gain my motivation, my strength, to remember my roots. The cork board on the wall is about this case as well. I think I’ve found a connection between Japan and Russia. I saw an unregistered ship on the CCTV leaving the harbor in Russia heading our way, probably full of illegal drugs or props, I don’t really know. I sent my findings over to my team an hour ago. They probably have all of this information anyway but Katsuki asked everyone to leave me out of the work e-mails for the time being and it frustrates me to not know how the case is going…” frustrated tears roll down Izuku’s cheeks. You can’t help but run over to your boyfriend and hug him to soothe his troubled soul.

“You know I understand why you are doing this, right?” You mumble into his ear and Izuku starts sobbing. “You know you should’ve just told me this and I would have understood. Katsuki made a massive mistake by leaving you out of this. I know it came from a good place but he should have known you won’t be able to sleep well without seeing those e-emails, seeing that they are indeed working on the case.”

“I’ll stop, Sweets. I swear this is the last time…” Izuku begs, but there is no reason for him to do so.

“You don’t need to, Izuku. I’m not mad. You just need to take a deep breath. Relax. Then come back here, do your thing for a few hours and once you close that door, leave all the pain behind. I don’t think you working on this case is a bad thing.” You admit. “It doesn’t make your recovery longer and it helps to soothe your soul knowing that you did your part. As I said, I understand. We will talk to Katsuki, okay?”

“That won’t make this place feel less dreadful, though. It’s not… fun to be here anymore and I hate that.” Izuku mumbles with his cheeks red.

“I can help with that.” You give Izuku a cheeky smile and he perks up right away.

“Tell me the plan, boss.”

“Are those papers on your desk important?” You nod towards the massive mess and Izuku looks at you with a confused face. He’s so cute, even with the dried tears dirtying his puffy cheeks.

“Let’s make paper cranes. Whoever does the most wins.” You give Izuku a shit eating grin while he stares at you incredulously.

“That’s your big plan, Sweets?” Izuku finally laughs, the sound loud and airy. Oh how much you missed that laugh.

“You are laughing, aren’t you? So shut the fuck up and get to work.”

Izuku is terrible at this. His fingers are too chunky to make the cranes look neat but he does his best and the frustration on his face is playful, a face of a kid ready for a challenge. It takes him a whole hour to get the hang of it but after that you two manage to clear out the desk almost completely. There are only a few papers left now, and there are at least 30 cranes sitting on the keyboard, most of them made by you but there is a constant smile on Izuku’s face so the pain in your fingers was definitely worth it.

“And now that the desk is almost clean…” You push yourself up to sit down on it, legs sprawled out to make space for Izuku to come between them. “It’s time for the boss to reward his hard-working assistant with some cheeky kisses!”

Izuku snorts. It’s hilarious.

“Oh, office AU? Forbidden love? I love that trope!”

Now it’s your time you laugh like a maniac.

“Oh my god, Izuku, you sound like me, that’s unacceptable!”

“Hey, where’s the respect for the big bad boss?” Izuku uses black whip pull you towards him, tentacles snaking around your waist until there is no space between you two at all.

“Are we actually gonna role play?” You ask between two snickers.

“No, it’s really fucking weird to be honest.” He giggles back and attacks your mouth with so much fervor you barely have time to reciprocate first but after a few seconds you finally kiss back, your legs snaking around his middle to pull him even closer. The kisses get deeper and deeper as the time goes, his tongue dancing with yours and you somehow end up sprawled on the desktop, your neck bent in a really uncomfortable way as you try to keep your posture so he can kiss you deeply. Izuku takes your head in his hand to help with the strain of your neck, and you just kiss and kiss and kiss, devouring the other until Izuku’s stomach makes a growling noise and you both start laughing, completely flushed and lips red.

“Wanna get a home made bento from me so we can share it on the rooftop of our office and share cheeky kisses while eating?”

“I’m quite sure those fanfictions usually end with the secretary being bent over a desk screaming the boss’s name.” Izuku retorts cheekily. You can’t help but laugh out loud again.

“You kiss your mother with that mouth?” You mumble as you pepper small kisses on Izuku’s lips who’s smiling like an idiot, content and happy for once.

“Don’t tell her, she’ll cry.” Izuku help you up with one hand and makes his way towards the exit. “Come on, I’m starving.” Izuku takes your hand and pulls you forward but he only makes a few steps before your back ends up against the hallway wall. Izuku steals a few more passionate kisses, moaning about not being able to use his other hand then walks towards the main exit again then stops after a few meters and kisses you again like he’s trying to make up for the time wasted in the last 7 days. Eventually, you make it to the exit, stumbling out of the hallway in each other’s arms (well, one arm in Izuku’s case. Duh.) but a loud “OI” coming from Izuku’s bed ruins the moment.

Katsuki and Eijirou are sitting on the end of the bed, Eijirou looking smug with a knowing smile on his face while Katsuki blushes like a virgin seeing people making out for the first time.

“I told you there is no reason to freak out, Kats.” Eijirou says loudly, a shit eating grin blooming on his face.

“Why the fuck do they even have phones if they don’t fucking use them?!” Katsuki throws your phone in your face and you barely catch it before it hits you straight in the face. You almost burst out laughing as you read the messages.

Group chat: Deku updates

2 days ago

You: He’s still not talking to me. He looks tired. I don’t think he sleeps properly.

Ei: That does sound like Izuku. Don’t worry. He’ll be back in a few more days. Did he eat?

You: Yeah, a bit.

Katsuki: All good, then.

Today

Katsuki: I’m going to the store, need anything?

Katsuki: That protein shit Deku likes is on sale, want me to buy some?

Katsuki: Oi

Katsuki: Don’t fucking ignore me you punk

Katsuki: I bought 10 bags of it, good luck putting that away, you piece of shit.

Katsuki: Oh, they have a limited edition All Might chocolate, there is only one left!

Katsuki: Oh well, someone bought it and ate it. How sad. *picture of Katsuki biting All Might’s head off.*

Katsuki: WHY ARE YOU NOT RESPONDING YOU FUCKING FREELOADER

Katsuki: DEKU ISN’T RESPONDING EITHER WHAT THE FUCK

Katsuki: I’M COMING OVER AND I’LL SHOVE YOUR STUPID PHONES INTO YOUR ASSES YOU USELESS BUNCH!!!

“So here I was, fucking worrying my ass off about you two, while you were busy fucking in Izuku’s secret room. Peachy. Also, I ate the food on the table. It was fucking cold anyway. Fuck you.”

Izuku actually gawks at that, his stomach making a rumbling noise just a second after.

“What Katsuki is trying to say is that we ate the cold food and made you guys some lovely spicy lentil soup instead as it’s way past breakfast anyway. We went into a cute little bakery on our way and got you guys some fresh bread! It was still hot when we bought it!” Eijirou says with dazzling eyes.

“What Ei is trying to say is that he bought two loaves of fresh bread and ate one of them on the way here. The whole fucking loaf. He just… tore into it like an animal. I think I want to divorce. I’m living with a monster.”

“Says the guy who eats a full ass ghost pepper like it’s a fucking apple.”

“I ship you guys so much.” You mumble out without meaning to and Izuku starts giggling.

“You are such a nerd.”

“I’ve never thought I’ll hear Izuku saying that to anyone. You two really are two peas in a pod.” Eijirou adds on, but Katsuki is done with the small talk and ushers everyone to go to eat.

The soup is amazing and when you bring up the topic about the e-mails, Katsuki is surprisingly understanding.

“If you think that’s okay then… yeah, we can do that.”

And that’s it. A few hours after that Izuku gets his first work e-mail and he almost cries from happiness because his findings were actually right and the guys managed to pinpoint the exact location of their warehouse just an hour after he sent them the e-mail.

Then he actually cries, but this time, from the relief.

“This week was so bad. I missed you much. I’m so tired and so stressed about to future, this fucking cast is so itchy and my butt hurts from all the sitting!” Izuku laughs in the middle of his crying fit, somehow happy about feeling all of those things all at once. “Fuck, I thought being stressed is the worst thing but whatever I’ve been through this week was far worse than anything I’ve ever felt. I was so empty. I swear my soul wasn’t a part of my own body. It was so terrible, Sweets! I would rather get another blast in my chest than go through another week like this!”

“Don’t say that!” You reprimand right away. “Also, whatever it was, it’s over now. You are back. You’ll be fine. 2 more weeks and the cast will be gone, too. Now cuddle the shit out of me, you stupid.” You plop yourself down next to him on the sofa, ready to be loved.

“Kiss attack!” Izuku is back to his normal self, giggling and laughing as he kisses you all over until it’s time to go to bed… And finally, you don’t need to go to bed alone.

“I love you, Sweets.” Izuku mumbles, his face hidden in your neck as per usual. The bed is so warm and comforting you can barely keep yourself from falling asleep in the middle of your answer.

“I love you too, Izu-Izu.”

… next chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

- Jesus Christ, finally done with the angst! I hated every second! Every single one of it!!!!

- The next chapter might be late, I got hooked on a manga called “signs of affection”. The first few episodes of the anime is out if you guys wanna give it a go! I swear it’s the cutest shit I’ve ever read/watched! So yeah, I binged the whole manga in a few days after I watched the first episode but I got so distracted I haven’t written the new chapter yet so if it’s late, I’m sorry. I also posted all the angst chapters 1-2 days ahead of my usual schedule so… LET ME BREATHE 😂

- I choose Korsakov and Nevelks because they are the “closest” cities to Japan. Just check the map and you will see the vision. It’s not important though, I won’t go into too much details about the case in the future, but I thought it would be nice to have a peek into it!

- While writing this chapter I realized that technically, Izuku would be able to keep himself on top with the help of black whip… Now the only question is; are these two desperate enough to use Black Whip at their first time or do they wait until Izuku’s hand is healed completely and can lean on it? Let me know what you think. 😂

- Eijirou’s terrible way of eating bread was actually inspired by me. 😂 I’m a celiac so I can’t have bread and most of the gluten free breads taste like ass. There was this small bakery a few streets down from my flat, in Budapest, Hungary, and they were selling freshly made GF bread. Me and my friends went over to my flat and I was too hungry so I took the whole bread out of the packaging and literally just tore into it like an animal and stuffed half of the bread into my mouth in one go and my friend almost died. (Mind you, I’m really small, 158 cm and 45 kg 😂) She couldn’t look into my eyes the whole day. I still miss that bread so much that every time my bestie comes over to England I ask her to bring me some haha

- The next chapter will be called Br0cc0liB0i! 😂

- Also, have you seen the new Kirishima x reader ficc I started to post? It’s super fluffy and cute! Check it out! Please!

TL: @garfieldthomas @porusuniverse @stickygumchewer @sixxze @mily-moo @aei-sedai-moiraine @aymasakusa @katsuari @kenzie-deadly @shiviwrites07 @lukerycyja-reblogs @cloroxisadelectabletreat @coffeent @kisskissshutmydoor @bobcar1 @yazminetrahan @cringefan @ronimacaroni77 @thekookiecorner @dangerousluv1 @emperatris-rinaka @shotos-angelic-whore @angelsdemonsmonsters @norvacaine @rei165 @unofficialmuilover @yao-ai @happydragonfrog @eeerreehhh @vinivave

#bnha x reader #mha x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #midoriya izuku x you #Deku x reader #pro hero deku x you #pro hero deku x reader

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sweatandwoe · 9 months

Note

I (and I'm sure a lot of us) would go feral if you wrote original monster content. I'm talking climbing the walls, screeching, hissing, bite bite biting feral. I wanna smooch the cryptids. The gonsts. The lil funky guys in the gloom under the moon. Please. One day. I loaf you sweaty for that thot alone

🩷

why not, let's do a little test run

MDNI - Lich x GN!Reader. Reader getting overstimulated, Skull Fucking (not in it's original context), Necrophilia maybe? Idk he's a lich and consenting, Oral Reader receiving, Fingering Reader recieving, Boning (this is linked to the fingering). Dacryphilia mention at the end.

"You can do it, my dear. What's one more little death?"

One more might actually lead to your actual death. But your lover was always so very thorough in his work, and you were never one to complain about helping him research. Well, not usually.

But now there are tears in your eyes, and you're starting to ache. It was bordering on painful now. "I don't know if I can."

The man, if he could still be considered that, peers up at you. Eyes a cold flame, ice blue lights dancing in wide, black sockets. His head is solid bone, a skull staring up at you. Long fingers, notched and thin, pause inside of you.

"Oh?" The skull leans forward, jaw moving. The little muscle left along the bone helped to stretch it out and let a shadowy tendril slip out; the ghost of a tongue. It hovers there, curling and flicking like smoke though it was far weightier than that. You knew from experience, and you can hear a chuckle when your legs tremble. "Would you like to make good on that assessment?"

Fuck. The tendril moves up, flicking along your sex while his fingers continue moving, searching and pressing inside you. He's determined and you can only grasp one hand onto his shoulder, gripping his robe, while the other roams over chilled bone. His true name spills from your lips, forbidden and complex but your tears are starting to slide down, warm and fat along your cheeks.

He doesn't let up. The ghost of the tongue does not mean he can't speak, even if it's busy. The lich's eyes light up with each word and let each of the following sentences hang in the air before sinking into your skin. "Such a good assistant for me. Helping me explore all kinds of death. How many ways we can achieve this one, the little death before it breaks you?" There's a pause, before he crooks his fingers, pressing them against that one spot to make you keen out. He chuckles, warm and full of delight while his gaze rakes over your body. With a single movement, he's pressing forward his skull right against you, letting the cold bone hit your inner thighs. "I think after this one it will be five? Is that correct, dearest one?"

You're panting. Nails dig into bone while your teeth dig into your lower lip. "That's c-correct, Gar-"

"I think that will be enough for today then. Just one more, my dear." He doesn't wait. The tendril is no longer flicking against your sex, but rather engulfing it. Sucking and licking, it feels wet and warm, a wonderful contrast to the coldness of his natural form. His magic was always so warm.

Tears continue to leak, you're so tired, but you can give him one more. One more and you will be done. He will treat you so well if you give him one more. You force yourself to relax, to let his ministrations guide you through, but you're cumming with a sob and grind of your hips against his head.

He's nothing but praise, sliding his fingers out once your orgasm ends. "So wonderful to see. Such a good test subject." The tendrils from his mouth descend back in, but not before letting it roll over your thighs like a final caress or a soft kiss. He stays between your legs, gently rubbing over them with too-thin and rough fingers. Bones pet your flesh, and you don't mind it.

Finally, he lifts himself up, to stand and get you a glass of water that he had kept nearby. He dips the cup himself, and you know there is no option here but to drink. Heavy mouthfuls are quick to come as you realize your thirst. When he pulls away, turning to set it down, your fingers run along his robes. "Thank you."

The lich chuckles, thin arms wrapping around your body, until he can settle behind you. Having you lay over him, the robe helping to smooth out all the hard lines of his body. "I should be thanking you, my dear. I've learned so much." He shifts beneath you slightly. "Was it too much?"

You consider the fact that you just had the equivalent of a talking skeleton eat you out and finger you open until you wept. Surprisingly, no. "It wasn't that bad. Just got too..."

"Overstimulated?" You nod and he hums. "Perhaps next time, we can have some longer breaks in between. That may help with preventing some tears."

You gaze at him, meeting the blue flames of his eyes head-on. "But you like the tears."

His hand dips, feeling along your waist and then your stomach. He can't grin anymore, but you could sense it in the next few words. "Perhaps I should keep going then?" Boney fingers dip lower, following the line of your hip, hovering over your sex once again. "If you have no objections, of course, my dear."

You pause, thinking. "One minute break? And then you can get another one."

His teeth press on the crown of your head, the whisper of a kiss he couldn't give. "Of course, my dear."

You smile, pressing a kiss to the side of his jaw. "Thanks, Garbear."

Gary sighs, no air pressing through the slightly parted teeth. "You're going down to thirty seconds now, brat."

"You shouldn't have let a human pick your casual name."

"Twenty."

You had an odd feeling it would be a long, but enjoyable night.

Thank you to @golden-rats for the name of the Lich

#monster boyfriend #monster x reader #monster romance #I might make this a whole thing #I love Gary the Lich and his human partner #lich #monster lover #mdni

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batwynn · 2 months

Text

Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,

Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—

While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,

As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.

“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—

Only this and nothing more.”

Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;

And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow

From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—

For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Nameless here for evermore.

And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain

Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;

So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating

“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—

Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—

This it is and nothing more.”

Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,

“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;

But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,

And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,

That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—

Darkness there and nothing more.

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,

Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;

But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,

And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”

This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—

Merely this and nothing more.

Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,

Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.

“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;

Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—

Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—

’Tis the wind and nothing more!”

Open here I flung the door, when, with many a huff and grunting,

In there stepped a stoutly walrus of the saintly days of yore;

Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;

But, with mien of lord or lady, flopped at my chamber door—

Lay upon the floor at my chamber door—

Loaf, and sat, and nothing more.

Then this briny creature beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,

“Though thy form be fat and tubular, thou,” I said, “art sure no insular,

Ghastly grim and random walrus wandering from the Nightly shore—

Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”

Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

Much I marvelled this ungainly mammal to hear discourse so plainly,

Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;

For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being

Ever yet was blessed with seeing walrus at his chamber door—

Fish or beast upon the floor situated at his chamber door,

With such name as “Nevermore.”

But the Walrus, sitting lonely on the cold floor, spoke only

That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.

Nothing farther then he uttered—not a flipper then he flapped—

Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have swam before—

On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have swam before.”

Then the Walrus said “Nevermore.”

Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,

“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store

Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster

Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—

Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore

Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”

But the Walrus still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,

Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of creature, and floor and door;

Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking

Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous mammal of yore—

What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, fat, and ominous creature of yore

Meant in roaring “Nevermore.”

This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing

To the beast whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;

This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining

On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,

But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,

She shall press, ah, nevermore!

Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer

Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.

“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he hath sent thee

Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;

Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”

Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if beast or devil!—

Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,

Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—

On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—

Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”

Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if beast or devil!

By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—

Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,

It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—

Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”

Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

“Be that word our sign of parting, beast or fiend!” I shrieked, upstarting—

“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!

Leave no yellow tusk as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!

Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the floor at my door!

Take thy tusks from out my heart, and take thy form from out my door!”

Quoth the Walrus “Nevermore.”

And the Walrus, never flipping, still is sitting, still is sitting

On the dark and dusty stretch just before my chamber door;

And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,

And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;

And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor

Shall be lifted—nevermore!

#walrus #walrus and fairy #edgar allan poe

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