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merakiui · 3 months

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[01] 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝓇𝑒𝒷𝑒𝒶𝓈𝓉, 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓇𝒶𝓋𝑒𝓃, 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓂𝒶𝑔𝒾𝒸𝒶𝓁 𝑔𝒾𝓇𝓁.

villain!azul ashengrotto x magical girl!reader note - welcome to this very impulsive magical girl parody! i'm not sure how many chapters it will be exactly, but i'm looking forward to writing more. i hope you'll enjoy reading! chapter navigation: [01] (you are here) // [02]

Magic is a messy, complex thing.

It can enchant and amaze with beautiful, endless possibilities. It can terrify with traumatic results. Like any sort of power in this world, it is a heavy responsibility for those who wield it. Everything has its dark side; you’re sure the same holds true for magic. No matter how marvelous it may be, surely there exists some shadow.

It’s also something you can’t use, and so the good and the bad don’t really apply to you!

Not that this is cause for envy. Rather, you’re relieved you don’t have to worry about experiencing the problems that accompany magic. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is; magic would only further complicate it. With no other plausible way to return to your world, you’ve had to make your home here on Sage’s Island. It’s an isolated place, boasting two elite magical universities and a bustling town.

It also happens to resemble a chicken wing on maps, so that’s a plus. Truly an ideal getaway! If only you weren’t trapped here indefinitely… Maybe then you’d have better appreciation for it.

As it happens, you’re a janitor living in the abandoned, decrepit dorm on the outskirts of campus. It took a month since you moved in, but you’ve managed to clean it up into a habitable space with the help of its resident haunts. The Headmage hasn’t been very helpful or present since your arrival, and so you’ve had to make do with what little you’ve been given. But for all of his troubling qualities, he isn’t inherently cruel. He’s kind enough to pay you for your services (but then that was only after you threatened him into an agreement), and he doesn’t overwork you (again, this is because you made it abundantly clear you won’t do anything if it violates your own sanity in some way, shape, or form). At least he’s willing to negotiate every time you argue for humane working conditions.

He’s an irksome guy. You can’t believe he has the gall to call himself the ‘embodiment of magnanimity’ when he’s done the bare minimum. Even the ghosts have offered more assistance and they don’t have any sort of authority here! You’re pleased to share a space with them. Sometimes they seem more reliable than the Headmage.

Despite your attempts to acclimate, the illustrious Night Raven College is still a place wholly unsuitable for a magicless human such as yourself. You’re the same age as some of the students here, but they feel like they’re on another level. Flying overhead on brooms, casting spells, mixing up potions… You listen in on some of their conversations while washing windows or sweeping the floors and wonder if all magic schools are this rigorous.

Maybe that’s any school regardless of its curriculum. Any sort of academic pursuit comes with difficulties; that’s normal. But magic is a facet unique to this world. There aren’t any arcane academies where you’re from, but now you wish there were. They seem so fascinating.

“Not much of my problem, though, is it?” you mumble, shaking free of that thought. Being a janitor is great. You can avoid the stress of school and keep up with the gossip exchanged in the halls. It’s like reading the newspaper, only it’s spoken instead of written.

Morning spills through the part in the curtains when you open them. You shut your eyes and bask in the warming glow of a sunshine smooch. It’s going to be another great day—you’re sure of this—and a day as pleasant as this deserves to be lived in its entirety. Perhaps you’ll have a picnic outside or you could even—

BAM.

Your eyes snap open just in time to view the raven who’s slammed itself against the window. Disoriented, it jerks itself up and away from the glass, flapping its wings wildly. You watch its attempts with a pitying frown. And then, inching closer to pull the window open to allow the raven respite, you see it: the blue flames racing towards you at a rapid speed.

With a yelp, you dive out of the way just in time. Due to the forceful blast, the window shatters in a spray of glass. Heat licks at your face, so hot it almost singes your brows, and you stumble to the other side of the room in a panicked daze.

“You lousy bird!” someone exclaims, the words pronounced in a growl. “Get back here so I can nab ya and prove that I’m worthy of bein’ at this school!”

The raven squawks, fluttering wildly about your room. A sleek, obsidian-colored feather floats into your hand. You don’t have time to admire it, for the curtains have just caught fire.

“Come on—I just put those up last week!” you bemoan, looking on in abject horror.

From the opening, a furry creature bursts through. He resembles a grey cat with his short, fluffy stature, but his tail is shaped strangely and there’s blue fire flickering from his ears. The same blue fire he’s currently conjuring in an attempt to catch the raven…

You grab hold of the coat rack—the nearest viable weapon you can think of—and jump in front of him. He startles and leaps back when you swing.

“What’re you doing?! You can’t do that in here! Fuck—my curtains! Don’t light anything else on fire!”

Baffled, the cat-creature scoffs at you. “How was I supposed to know someone’s livin’ in here? Not my fault!”

“It’s a residence! Of course someone lives here! I live here!”

“When they make me the Great Mage Grim, I’ll fix this place up for ya. That’s a promise! I just gotta catch that bird and prove myself a worthy candidate. Just you wait—they’ll be puttin’ my name up in lights!”

“Like hell they will!”

With a devastated groan, you whack the curtains down with the coat rack. They land in a heap, smoke curling from beneath the pile and sliding out the shattered window in dark, wispy tendrils. It takes a frazzled few stomps and smacks before the fire fizzles away, leaving you with charred curtains and the distinct stench of something scorched.

Still panting from the adrenaline rush, you loosen your grip on the coat rack. This is a mess. What am I going to do? I don’t have enough money to fix this!

You turn your hateful scowl on the cat-creature. “You!”

“W-Wait! Wait!” He raises a paw to his lips and gestures towards your bedside table. The raven sits perched, a golden chain wrapped around its neck and an envelope clasped in its beak. In all of the chaos, you must have missed that. “Don’t say a word. It’s right there.”

He approaches stealthily, slow as a sloth, and pounces. He misses narrowly, ending up with a mouthful of feathers instead. The raven caws and takes flight, circling overhead.

He spits feathers. “Myahaha! I got it! I actually—oh. Dumb bird… No one can escape the Great Grim.”

The raven lands on your shoulder next. It cocks its head at you.

“What? Is this for me?” you ask, even though you’re certain of the answer. You pluck the envelope from the raven, who sets to preening itself now that it’s no longer occupied.

“Give it here!” The cat-creature hops up onto your bed, reaching with an expectant paw. “That bird’s got my admission letter!”

“Your letter?” You hold it out of reach and stick your tongue out at him. “No ‘great mage’ sets someone’s home on fire. You’re a subpar mage, if anything.”

“I am not! You just wait—I’ll show you!”

“I don’t want to see anymore.” Turning away, you break the wax seal and procure the parchment waiting within.

He swipes at you impatiently. “Lemme see! What’s it say?”

Written in elegant script, complete with a stamp you’ve never seen before, it looks very official. Whoever wrote it is exceptionally good at cursive, their letters swooping together seamlessly. It’s almost like a decorative artwork with its double-looped O’s and dancing cursive. You marvel at the craftsmanship, wishing your handwriting could look as refined as this person’s.

To whom it may concern, Greetings and congratulations on your admittance into the program! We recognize your outstanding achievements as a model student and believe you have what it takes to do wonderful things. It is with great pride that we bestow upon you a piece of magical history, referred to as The Tried-and-True Trident. You will find it enclosed in this letter.

You look up from the letter just as an aureate necklace lands in your palm. The raven blinks at you once before lifting itself off of your shoulder with a flap of its inky wings. It departs through the window, up into the cloudless, cerulean sky, in a flurry of feathers. There’s a tiny trident pendant hanging from the chain. It winks at you in the light, so shiny you think you might catch your reflection if you stare long enough. You’re not sure what part of it is tried or true, for it looks more like costume jewelry than anything. At least it’s cute. Kind of fashionable, even.

With this historic piece, you are now free to wield the wonders of the sea as you please. You are expected to use these powers to defend those you hold dear from the threat of tragedy. You should have met with your mentor already. If not, we shall send someone to escort you. We look forward to beholding your excellent heroics. Sincerely,

“Gimme that!”

Grim snatches the letter before you can glimpse the name signed at the bottom. The enchanted letter tears in two and then, before both of your eyes, it promptly disintegrates.

You eye the fuzzball with a fresh bout of vitriol. “What did you say your name was again?”

“It’s Grim—the Great Grim—and I promise ya as soon as I—”

“Good. Now I know what name to carve on your tombstone when I put you in the ground for ruining my letter!” You reach for the coat rack, expression ablaze with newfound ferocity.

Grim yelps and scurries away. “H-Hold on! I can fix it!”

“How? It’s ash!”

“Well, what did it say? I’m sure I can explain it to ya!”

“It said something about this necklace. The something-something trident. Protecting loved ones from tragedy. Admittance into some program. A mentor…”

“Mentor… Mentor! Yeah, that sounds about right!” Grim laughs proudly. “Aren’t you in luck, human! I’m gonna be your mentor.”

“Sure you are.” You rest your hand on your hip, brows raised. “The same cat who destroyed my window and curtains is gonna mentor me in whatever this is. Funny story.”

His jaw drops. “A-At least pretend like it’s cool! And I’m not a cat!” He hops off of your bed with a huff. “Ungrateful human. You’re undeserving of the Great Grim’s teaching anyways! I don’t need you!”

“Other way around.”

“You don’t need me!”

“There we go.” You applaud him sardonically. “Look, I don’t know what any of this is. I’m sure it was a mistake. I’m not even a student here.”

Grim, who had been on his way towards the door, halts. He turns to face you slowly. “Yer…not a student?”

“I work here. There’s no way for me to be enrolled here because I can’t use magic.”

“W-Wha—can’t use magic?! Then why did you get in, but I didn’t?!”

You can only shrug. The necklace twists idly when you hold it up for closer inspection. “So this thing is supposed to help me? Hey, Grim, do you know what this is?”

You lower to his height and hold your hand out. He watches you dubiously before approaching and leaning in to sniff at the chain.

“Smells fine to me. Kinda like wet metal.”

“I didn’t ask for a flavor profile.” You heave a tired sigh. The day’s only just begun and you’re already swamped with nonsense. “Maybe that Headmage knows something.”

Grim gasps. “You’re chummy with the Headmage? You think you could talk him into lettin’ me join?”

“Why do you even want in so badly?”

“Isn’t it obvious? I’m a renowned mage! They should be begging me to join!”

Anyone could’ve sent that letter. It might not even be from the Headmage… If I knew the sender’s name, I could just track them down and ask them.

“You said you wanted to prove yourself, didn’t you?” You offer your hand again, this time to shake on it. “Become my mentor. That’ll show that Crowley you’re plenty capable. Then you can get into this school and I can find a way to return this necklace to its rightful owner.”

Grim folds his arms over his chest, avoiding your hand like it’s the plague. “And what’s in it for me? My services aren’t cheap, y’know!”

“You can live here with me. I’ll find ways to sneak you into the lecture halls if you wanna sit in and observe the class.”

“How about food?”

“Food is…” Nonexistent, really. That cheapskate Crowley! I’ve got to talk him into raising my pay. “I get paid at the end of this week. We’ll have to survive off of what’s in the fridge and the lunch I’m allowed to get from the cafeteria for now.”

Grim’s features soften. “Hm… I guess it’s not terrible. Could be better. But all great mages start from humble beginnings—including myself, but you’d never be able to guess!”

“Right…”

With how carelessly you tossed that fire around, you’re the last mage I should be partnering with.

“Do we have a deal, Grim? You’ll be my mentor and I’ll help you wherever I can.”

Grim places his paw in your palm, his chest puffed out. “You’d better start callin’ me Teacher!”

A smile strains on your lips. “Not happening.”

With a firm shake, your pact is made.

“So what spells do you know? Any that might be able to fix up a window and some curtains?”

“You don’t need those lame spells! The Great Grim can do plenty of other amazing feats.”

“Like?”

“Very amazing feats. Didn’t you hear me?”

“You don’t know anything, do you?”

Grim flinches, guilt flashing across his countenance.

“Is blue fire all you can summon?”

“I… I can do much more! This is just a fraction of my true power! If I had a magestone, this whole spell business would be a lot easier.”

“A magestone? Ah, those things the students have on their pens? I guess that would be helpful. Where can we get one, though?”

“I’d tell ya if I knew.”

“The library might know. If we head there now, we can spend the rest of the morning researching and then we can get lunch.” You reach to fasten the chain around your neck. It’s tucked under your shirt next, safe and sound. “Wait outside for a minute. I’ll change out of my pajamas, clean up the window, and then we’ll be on our way.”

Grim trots out the door without resistance. “I’ll grab a snack from the fridge while yer doin’ all that stuff.”

“One snack! Don’t eat everything!”

But he’s already bounding away, singing as he goes: “Free eats can’t be beat!” Sighing, you shut the door and turn to assess the state of your bedroom. It could be worse. Your bed could have been damaged, or you could have sustained quite the nasty burn.

One mess at a time.

You change into your uniform, which is really just a PE jumpsuit. The same one the students wear. This one has seen better days and it’s a size too big on you, but it’s all Crowley claimed to have on hand when you asked about work clothes. Once again, you soothe yourself with your favorite adage: It could be worse.

You could be homeless. You could be starving. You could be dead.

So it’s not so bad to wear the spare. It’s still got the dorm patch and class numbers sewn onto it, albeit both have worn considerably. Your eyes are drawn to them as you admire yourself in the mirror. Octavinelle Dorm… You’ve heard there are seven dormitories at this school, each based on a historical figure and representing the various spirits of these people. The sorting at the entrance ceremony was something special for the incoming first-years. You’d felt a little awkward to disturb such a grand occasion, even more so when the Dark Mirror announced to a hall full of talented mages that there isn’t an iota of magic in you.

Quite the humbling experience.

But sometimes you wonder which dorm the Dark Mirror would have chosen if your soul was bursting with magical capability.

As of now you’re a faux member of Octavinelle—whatever that implies.

By the time you’ve managed to sweep the glass, dispose of the ruined curtains, and patch the window with a temporary placeholder—what a relief for pasteboard and masking tape—Grim’s nearly through the few items left in your fridge. You yank him away just as he reaches for a container of leftovers.

“If you eat too much, you’ll spoil your lunch.”

“Can’t imagine that problem.”

“You sound so proud of your bottomless stomach.”

“And you’re not?”

You roll your eyes and tug your sneakers on. “Let’s be off.”

“How’re we gonna sneak me in?”

“How do you feel about becoming my temporary purse pet?”

Grim looks unimpressed when you hold your tote bag open for him. “No way!”

“It has lots of space and it’s stylish. Besides, shouldn’t your dedicated student pay proper respect to her great, glorious mentor?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his approving smirk. “Well, when ya put it like that…”

After Grim clambers into your bag, you lock the front door behind you and set off for campus.

“Please don’t blow our cover, Grim.”

From within the depths of your tote, he scoffs. “The Great Grim is the stealthiest mage you’ll ever meet!”

“I highly doubt that.”

It’s the second time you’ve found yourself in the library, but it’s still just as impressive as ever. You could spend hours here, wandering between shelves and skimming all sorts of tomes. Some of them are written in languages you can’t decipher, so you observe the pictures provided in hopes of gleaning any clues. Grim lounges on a chair beside you, absentmindedly turning through a thick textbook. You managed to find a relatively isolated corner in the very back and it’s not especially busy today. The promise of a hearty lunch keeps him well-behaved.

“Find anything?”

“Nothin’ important. Ugh. This stuff is the worst! Why can’t a magestone fall from the sky? That’d be a whole lot easier than this.”

“It sucks, yeah, but what else can we do?” You rest your face against your palm and scan through yet another page of information. “Let’s keep looking. I’m sure we’ll find something useful.”

“Nngh… I’m hungry.”

“You just ate.”

“That was hours ago!”

“Has it really been that long?”

“Feels like it.”

You lean back in your chair and stretch, listening to the satisfying snap of your joints as they crack into place. “Can you understand any of these words?”

“Most of ’em.”

You point to a specific place in the paragraph. “Can you tell me what this one means? I think I’ve got the general idea based on the graphics, but I could be wrong.”

Grim glances at it, his blue hues waltzing across the page. “It’s about merfolk.”

“Merfolk? They exist in this world?” And then you pause to gather your delayed thoughts. “Never mind. That would make sense.”

“What about ’em?”

“Where I’m from, merfolk aren’t real. They’re fiction.”

“Huh. A place without any merfolk… Bet they don’t have anyone like me either. I’m one of a kind!” Grim chuckles. “So where’re you from?”

You open your mouth to respond, but the sound of approaching footsteps interrupts. You usher Grim under the table, who goes but not without protest. He ducks under just in time, hiding within the shadows. A student rounds the corner and stops short when he sees you. He’s holding a few books in his arms, each looking more heavy than the last.

“Ah,” the both of you say in unison.

He clears his throat and offers you a cordial nod. “I wasn’t aware someone had already claimed this corner.”

You eye him carefully. He looks familiar. Glasses. Silvery-grey hair. Blue eyes. Where have you seen him before?

“It’s all yours. I was just leaving.” You move to stand, but he steps closer.

He peers at the open textbook lying in front of you. A smile you can’t quite classify as friendly spreads on his lips. “Is that so? You seem especially engrossed in this book.”

“I like to stay educated.”

I genuinely can’t understand a word in this text.

“On the anatomy of merfolk?”

You shut your mouth at once. That’s what this is? No wonder the diagrams looked…unique. But you’re too committed to your story to falter now.

“Especially the anatomy of merfolk.”

The student chuckles, but it sounds hollow to your ears. “I don’t believe I’ve seen you before. You’re in Octavinelle?”

You gape at him like a fish out of water before realizing the jumpsuit and its patch. “Oh! Ohhh, no, not at all. This is an old uniform.”

He looks at you with more scrutiny until it clicks. “I remember now. You’re the magicless girl who so carelessly interrupted—ah, forgive me—fortuitously appeared during the entrance ceremony last month.”

What a little fake. You narrow your eyes at him, suddenly defensive. Now you’re made aware of who he is. He was one of the few in the audience during your awkward arrival. Back then, he was clad in a robe with his hood up and so you only caught sight of his glasses and the swoop of his silvery-grey hair peeking out. You’re certain this is the same guy. You could’ve said that without the backhanded barb.

“So my reputation precedes me.”

He smiles and shakes his head. “I disagree. You’re still quite the mystery.”

“Well, there’s nothing to solve.” You rise from your seat, reaching for your bag. “I’m just a janitor trying to get by.”

He hums. You can’t decipher the meaning in that, but you don’t particularly care enough to drive yourself mad over it. You feel around on the chair for Grim. He was just here a moment ago…

You drop to your knees to check under the table. Your heart plummets into your stomach.

Grim, you had one job!

“Is something the matter?”

You pop up from beneath the table so fast that your head knocks into it. “Shit! Ow! Yeah, no, I’m fine. I thought I dropped my pencil.”

You scan the rest of the space as discreetly as you can. The student watches you. You don’t like the way he seems to stare through you as if intending to gain access to your very soul. As if he sees something you don’t.

“Have a wonderful day. Study hard. Pass your tests. Get—uh—the scholarship or whatever.”

Flashing him your most nonchalant grin, you make your way down the aisle at a pace that is the exact opposite of relaxed. There’s no time to dwell on that off-kilter exchange. You’ve got a runaway cat-creature in dire need of capture!

The one day I take off and it’s the day my window’s ruined, I get a weird letter, and my new roommate is missing. That’s horrible luck!

You walk briskly through the library, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. Grim couldn’t have gotten far. You were only distracted for a few minutes, and the library is huge. Perhaps he’s just lost and waiting in place for you to find him. For some reason you can’t fool yourself into believing this train of thought.

Your search takes you out of the library and down the hall. Where could he have possibly gone? Surely he didn’t make his way back to Ramshackle. You check the time on your watch. It’s almost lunch.

Lunch! Of course!

You hurry towards the cafeteria with rekindled purpose.

I’m going to start calling him Gluttonous Mage Grim if he makes this a habit!

Fortunately, Grim is predictable. You’ve only known him for a day—not even—but it’s not so difficult to pinpoint his location after you’ve worked out his motivations. Unfortunately, you make it to the cafeteria just as the grand chandelier falls from its support in the ceiling, crash-landing in a broken heap. And standing just feet away from the damage, looking very guilty, is Grim alongside two students you’ve never seen before. Crowley’s there as well, just as frazzled as the feathers on his coat. He’s in the middle of lecturing them about the importance of this relic—how it’s been with the school since it was founded and it’s an irreplaceable piece that would cost over a billion Madol to fix—when he takes notice of you.

“(Name), it’s devastating! A most heart-wrenching tragedy! Why, it’s enough to bring one to tears.”

“Seems so…” You shoot Grim a vicious look. So much for being covert. Not so stealthy now, huh? “I’ll get the broom.”

“No, not yet. These three—” he turns towards them, yellow eyes fierce— “are expelled!”

“Expelled?!” the navy-haired student exclaims. He looks like he’s just stared Death in the face. “This can’t be… What will my mother think? I promised her I was gonna get good grades, attend all of my classes, pass my tests…”

“Hey, it’s not my fault. That hairball’s the one who started it!” the other argues, his arms folded over his chest.

“No way! It wasn’t me!”

Crowley clicks his tongue. “Unbelievable. This school has zero tolerance for blatant tomfoolery. Surely you’re all aware…” He pauses to look at Grim. “And you! You’re not even a student here! Just what are you doing, trespassing on school property?”

Grim flounders dizzily. “Spinning…”

“He’s my roommate.” All eyes flick towards you. “I’m letting him stay for now. Sorry if that breaks any rules. I just don’t believe in turning others away, even if they’re prone to causing trouble.”

“What a noble soul,” Crowley murmurs, impressed. “Well, if that’s the case, seeing as he’s nothing more than a talking pet cat—”

“I ain’t a pet or a cat!”

“I’m afraid my previous statement still remains in place. He’s not to be on school grounds.”

“You heard the Headmage. No school for you.”

But Grim’s already lying flat on the floor like a defeated pancake.

“Then what about us? That hairball can’t get the easy way out and leave us with the worst of it!”

“There’s a way to fix this, isn’t there?”

“Y-Yeah! Can’t you just use magic to fix it right up? It’ll be good as new. Someone with your skill should be able to do it.”

Crowley shakes his head, mournful. “Magic is not limitless. Not only that, but the magestone powering this great chandelier is cracked. And those are not so easily replaced. I fear this is the final day this miraculous chandelier will ever grace this grand hall with its light.”

The ginger-haired student grimaces. “Not good…”

The other withers. “Expelled… What am I going to do? I can’t go back home with this news!”

A magestone… That’s what Grim needs. You glance at the one set into the chandelier. A ghastly crack runs up the surface. Are they really that special?

Before both can succumb to their melancholy, Crowley says, “There is one way! Possibly…”

“Really? What is it?” they say at once, eyes bulging with hope.

“This very magestone was mined from the Dwarfs’ Mine. Perhaps, should you procure one of similar qualities, the chandelier can be repaired.”

“Then… Okay! I’ll get a magestone! As long as it’s all right with you, sir.”

“Ah, but the mines have been closed for some time. I reckon the magestones are all but gone.”

“I’m sure I can find one. Please, sir, I’ll do anything to stay here!”

Crowley seems to consider this. Eventually, he nods his approval. “I’m willing to postpone your expulsion for now.” The navy-haired student’s relief is short-lived when he adds, “However, if you fail to bring a magestone to me by the first rays of the morning sun, it will be expulsion for the both of you. No further exceptions.”

With a hasty nod, he says, “Of course! I understand! Thank you so much for the second chance. I won’t let you down!”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s get this over with.”

You gather an unconscious Grim in your arms while Crowley instructs the students on how to access the mine. They stride off with different degrees of enthusiasm. You open your mouth to ask permission, but Crowley beats you to it.

“Please do accompany them. I trust you’re responsible enough to handle any trouble?”

“If you raise my pay, I’ll do anything.”

He clutches his chest. “Your proclivity to bargain strikes through to my very soul! Ah, but since I am the kindest Headmage I shall grant your request.”

With a satisfied grin, you hold Grim tighter and run off after the pair. “Thanks again, Headmage!”

You follow them all the way to the Mirror Chamber. It’s just as imposing as you recall, but there’s a serene quality to the space that wasn’t there before. Maybe it’s because you’re here willingly and there isn’t an audience to witness your poorly timed debut.

You approach both of them. “Hey! Sorry to bother, but could I join you?”

They turn to look at you. Grim shifts in your arms, groaning.

“I don’t see why not. Welcome to the team,” the navy-haired student says with an awkward smile.

“Might as well. More people means a faster chance at finding that magestone.” He points at Grim next. “And he better be coming, too.”

“That’s the plan. I’ll make sure he won’t cause any problems for you.”

He sighs and shakes his head. “Today’s just not my day. What bad luck…”

“No time to sulk. We’ve gotta get that magestone,” the other says, turning towards the mirror. “Dark Mirror, the Dwarfs’ Mine!”

Grim jerks awake then. “Myaah?! Where am I? What’s goin’ on?”

You hold onto him tightly, preventing him from squirming out of your arms. “Relax. You’ll be fine. I think.”

“What d’ya mean by that?!”

The Dark Mirror brightens with life. There’s a blinding flash of light and then, just like that, you’re taken to the mine’s entrance.

Magestone, here we come!

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #marvelous marine magic: sweet sea sorceress #3M:3S #3M:3S chapter one

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rainybubbles · 2 months

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10 A.M- Ghost x plus size reader

-Summary : Every day on leave Ghost watches his neighbor at 10AM during his smoke break. Will it lead to more ? (yes, especially with Johnny involed.)

-(Sorry in advance, English is not my first language, so sorry if it's bad or OOC. And I've posted it on ao3 months ago, so it's normal if you feel like a déjà vu)

-10 am. The ballet was starting.

-A foot missing a step, a groan of pain, clothes thrown on the ground, and an apple bitten into hastily. Breakfast was beginning, and the curtain rose, giving Simon the perfect view of his neighbor's daily spectacle across the landing.

-Eyes so sunken they rivaled his own, hands with nails cut short—Simon wondered why so short, perhaps their job? A habit? And their body, all curves.

-That's what had caught his attention in the hallway the first time.

-Such a ominous building welcoming such a pure ray of sunshine like them, Simon couldn't help but bask in their warmth from the shadows.

-A glint in a corridor had eventually become a routine. When Simon smoked on his balcony, they would open their curtains, and slowly, without knowing it, their routines became intertwined at certain hours of the day, briefly filling Simon's respites with a bit of humanity.

-"What are ye lookin’ at?"

-"Nothing that concerns you, Johnny."

-"L.T, come on." Johnny, curious, stepped onto the balcony, but they were already gone.

-"I’ve put up with you enough, stop pokin’ your nose in."

-"Ye volunteered when Price asked who could help me with my cast during our leave. Because Gaz was with his fiancée and Price with his sister. That's friendship."

-"Pity," Ghost corrected him.

-"It still means I make ye feel things, L.T."

-"Yes, and it's exasperation."

-"Seriously, what were ye starin’ at? I mean, apart from the poor garden, there's nothin’."

-Simon ignored him. One word and he knew what Johnny would say.

-"Talk to them. You have nothing to lose."

-Worse, the Scotsman might set up a situation where he'd end up stuck in an elevator with them. The explosives expert knew much more about physics and math than he let on.

-"By th’ way, have ye ever had someone in yer life, L.T.?"

-“…”

-"I see, we're playin’ neither yes nor no?"

-"We're playin’ 'no personal questions.'"

-"I'll tak’ that as a yes. Ah wonder whit yer type is? Redhead? Blonde? Brunette? Tall? Short? Or maybe brown, green, blue, gray eyes?"

-"People who don't ask questions."

-"Damn, rejected like that."

-"That's enough, Johnny."

-"Okay, I… would ye introduce me if ye ever had someone in yer life, no?"

-"No."

-"What?! Come on, I'm adorable!"

-"And invasive."

-"I left a sock lyin’ around one time." Soap remembered the incident.

-"In a frying pan."

-"It was an accident."

-Ghost sighed. His gaze shifted to the window; damn, he wished he could catch a glimpse of them for a moment, to gain some strength. As if his prayer had been heard, the window opened, their head appeared, watering their plants.

-"I see, so it wasn't just a cigarette," Johnny said with a smug smile.

-Unfortunately, that also meant they'd just watered trouble for Ghost.

-"Johnny."

-"I'm just saying they’re beautiful, that's all."

-"Not a word."

-"So… the curves?"

-"Johnny," Simon repeated, annoyed.

-"Okay, not a word."

-A silence fell, but Simon couldn't stand Soap's trembling leg.

-"One question." He eventually gave in.

-"How long?"

-"None."

-"What?"

-"We're not dating."

-"So a crush, huh?"

-"We're not in high school anymore."

-"But ye have a crush on yer neighbor like a teenager."

-"Johnny," Simon warned him.

-Soap backed off before grinning smugly.

-"I get it, I'd be the same if they were my neighbor, they seem cute," he added

-"Johnny, damn it," Ghost sighed, his cheeks slightly tinged with red.

-Soap laughed.

-"It's cute. I guess ye won't talk tae them?"

-"No. Not with our profession, not with my personality. they deserve better."

-"Even fur one night?"

-"I don't want a one-night stand, not with them."

-"I see, condemned to yearn, a wee bit sad."

-Simon didn't reply; it was his routine. Observe, analyze, and act. His strategy had been clear from the start: do nothing.

-So he finished his cigarette, hoping it would be 10 am again soon to relive this peaceful anticipation. The sun set, and it all began again.

-5 am, wake up. 6 am, jogging. 7 am, back, ready to take a shower and face Johnny.

-"Oh, sorry."

-But sometimes routines break. Simon watched his neighbor, struggling to move a too-heavy piece of furniture up the stairs.

-"Can I help you?"

-"I… I don't want to bother you, especially since you just came back from exercising—"

-"It's nothing."

-He carried what looked like a wardrobe to their landing.

-"Thanks again. I… I don't know if you knew, but we're neighbors. My name's y/n, I moved in there after Matilda. I know they wasn't… well-liked?"

-"We could say that."

-"No need to downplay it; I know they threw tomatoes at all the doors, ripped up their garbage on all the landings, and dismantled a door by mistake."

-"Hm."

-"I mean, at 80, it's impressive," y/n laughed.

-"For sure," he chuckled.

-"So, you're Smith, right?"

-Oh yes, the fake name on his mailbox.

-"Yeah."

-"Well, thank you, Mr. Smith. Honestly, I don't know how I would've managed without you. I told my roommate that having such a big wardrobe was pointless, but they never listens to me."

-"Roommate?"

-"Yeah, she lives with me. their name's Léa, maybe you've met her? Tall, blonde."

-"Hm."

-"She always wakes up late, and I wake up early, so we kind of live in the dark in the apartment, like real vampires. Perhaps you know her ?"

-"Thank you, Léa," Simon thought. Without her, he'd never catch sight of y/n on their balcony.

-"No, I don't think so."

-"I see. Do you have a roommate too?"

-"At the moment, yes, but it's temporary."

-"Oh, I see, a friend crashing. Happens."

-"Actually, he takes care o’ me," a voice said.

-If Simon could slow down his reaction, he'd be sure to see panic. Johnny, smiling, approached and introduced himself.

-"John, nice tae meet ye. This big guy keeps an ee on me, wi’ ma broken arm."

-"Oh, I see, that's not easy. Nice to meet you."

-"Ye ken, I was plannin’ tae make some muffins; I thought if ye like them, we could maybe give ye some since this guy doesnae like sweet stuff."

-"Johnny."

-"What, you don't like them?" y/n asked, surprised.

-"I… it's not my thing, that's all."

-"I see," y/n smiled. "Why not, okay, well, I mean don't poison us, but okay."

-"I'm no’ sure that would convince anyone no’ tae poison ye," John replied.

-"Maybe, but does it work on you?"

-"Aye," Johnny laughed.

-y/n thanked them and closed their door. Soap, with a victorious smile, looked at Simon.

-"Don't start."

-"We're makin’ progress, L.T, recon mission wit’ introduction."

-"This isn't a mission."

-"Of course, it is. Gaz agrees wi’ me."

-"Gaz knows?!"

-"It's the 21st century, L.T, phones are magical."

-"No."

-"By the way, if they ask for yer number, ye'll have to give them one that's not disposable…"

-"There won't be a number."

-"I bet there will be; they seem nice."

-"They thanked me for a favor; it's just politeness."

-"If ye say so."

-"Nothing's going to happen, Johnny."

-"We'll see."

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

-"I was thinking we should exchange numbers! It's always handy, for dog sitting, plant watering, breakdowns, broken showers, or anything else."

-Soap looked at him triumphantly. Certainly, it wasn't y/n asking, but Léa, after accepting their muffins and inviting them inside. But Soap saw the papers with the two different numbers, indicating that y/n's was included.

-"For sure, but isn't a roommate kind o’ a hassle? I mean, I remember wi’ other folk’s boyfriends an’ girlfriends, it can get awkward," Soap asked.

-"For that, there would have to be some," Simon replied.

-"What dae ye mean?" "Well, I'm not interested, and y/n… they…"

-Léa seemed hesitant.

-"New acquaintances aren't really their thing, with social anxiety, you know."

-Simon raised an eyebrow. they had seemed so calm. He was also accustomed to social avoidance, so y/n's reaction to him surprised him, unless they had grown accustomed to his presence before. But that would mean he was a familiar face to them. Which would imply…

-That at 10 am, he wasn't the only one watching.

-A warm feeling filled his heart.

-"Why are ye smiling?" Soap murmured as they returned to his apartment. "It's bad news if they's as bad as you at talking, you'll be together when Price runs out of beanies to wear."

-"Hm, if you say so."

-"L.T, tell me, I ken ye ken something."

-"Soap, it's none of your business."

-"The code name, really?"

- "Johnny."

- "Simon."

-Neither broke eye contact; Johnny eventually sighed and raised his only free hand in surrender. Ghost nodded.

-He looked forward to the next 10 am.

________________________________

-At 10 am, with a cigarette in his mouth, they were there. their eyes on their hands. He smiled. Target acquired. How could he have missed it?

-Using his hands, he executed a slight sign of recognition. they jumped, surprised he had noticed them; he smirked. they responded with a hand waving back. He signaled for them to open the window.

-"Nice view?" he asked.

-"On such a shabby garden, no," they replied, ignoring his implication.

-"I meant the neighborhood.”

-"Well, not everyone can have a balcony."

-"Or a pretty neighbor."

-"I—"

-"Have a good day, y/n." He went back inside.

-Nothing will happen, my ass, Soap muttered as he watched him.

_______________________________

-Slowly, it became his game. Spotting y/n, signaling to them, and lightly flirting.

-It was nothing. Just a game of cat and mouse, that's all. It wouldn't lead to anything, he kept telling himself. But every day he waited for them.

-Praying that Price wouldn't call him. But apparently this time his thoughts weren't heard; Soap was sent to the base under someone else's watch, and Price called him for a mission. 10 a.m. should wait.

____________________

-"Mr. Smith?"

-Tired. Covered in mud, smelling of powder. Simon was back after three months, his eyes empty, his face covered, only his eyes remained. y/n stood in the hall, in pajamas, letters in hand, probably looking for their mail at... 1 a.m.? Who would do that?

-"y/n.”

-“ Everything alright? You're soaked. You know if you have a dryer problem, we have one."

-"Everything's fine."

-"I see. I... I got worried because I didn't see you around, I wondered if something happened to you."

-His cowardly heart quickened at this concern.

-"It was nothing, just work."

-"I see, you travel a lot then."

-"Yeah, you could say that."

-"Must be tiring, never... feeling at home, right?"

-Simon couldn't get a word in. He had never thought about it, in his childhood home, his sanctuary, he had never thought about it as his home, so as he grew up, he had no attachment to a place.

-"Not really."

-"Not a homebody?"

-"Yeah, but just a bit."

-"I... sorry, I'm asking questions while you're exhausted, I'm really sorry."

-"No need to apologize, such a pretty face coming home erases all fatigue."

-they frowned their eyebrows..

-"Do you mean that or is it for Léa?"

-Simon was surprised by the sharper tone.

-"Léa?"

-"If you want to get closer to Léa, please don't use me. I... honestly, all this flirting is confusing, if it's her, then don't use me."

-"I don't want Léa."

-"Oh." y/n paused, “then why?"

-"I don't know, why do people flirt, y/n?"

-"You."

-"Me."

-"So all this time..."

-"I'm eagerly waiting for 10 a.m., y/n."

-"I-, I'm sorry, I just thought you really liked Léa, I let my insecurities take over without even thinking about that, and I apologize for that."

-"No worries, now everything is clear. Goodnight y/n and see you tomorrow morning."

-"See you tomorrow morning, Mr. Smith."

-"Simon."

-"Hm?"

-"Call me Simon."

-Maybe Soap was right; he knew from the beginning that this wouldn't just be a flirt.

______________________________

-At 10 a.m., Simon noticed a blanket on his balcony. Hand-knitted with a post-it.

-"I'm not there today, but you seemed cold in the morning, so welcome back and have a good day."

-Slowly, he took the soft fabric. Draping it over his shoulders, he closed his eyes, letting the nicotine escape from his mouth.

-He knew he shouldn't. A part of him screamed not to trust, to flee. But he was so tired. He, too, wanted to go home and have that smile.

-Suddenly, the blanket felt too cold, the nicotine too bitter, and the balcony too narrow.

-What was he doing dreaming of a normal life?

-Simon was officially dead, flesh living for a task force. He shouldn't even think of the hope of surviving long. He had given up on that. Slowly, he placed the blanket back on the balcony. The window was closing. He decided that maybe the 10 a.m. breaks weren't a good idea.

___________________________

-"You ken, it's no’ Pokémon, L.T."

-"Johnny," Ghost calibrated his rifle as the car swerved through the bends.

-"What's he talking about?" Gaz, in uniform beside them, ready for the mission, asked.

-"Our dear L.T. fled like a Pokémon facin’ its neighbor."

-"My life is none of your business."

-"Ye're missin’ something extraordinary, obviously. They just told ye it's mutual, an’ there ye are, runnin’ away. Imagine what ye’re sayin’ tae them."

-"It's better for them."

-"Coward."

-Simon looked away. It was better this way. Proof was, he was off again to risk his life for two months. No one wanted a life like this.

-y/n didn't know about Ghost, didn't know about the PTSD, about Tommy, about Joseph. He was just the slightly mysterious neighbor from the balcony.

-"They know nothing, it's better this way."

-"Maybe he's right, Soap. Some people aren't meant to be with soldiers," Gaz tried to reason.

-"He's just using runnin’ away as a defense mechanism, Gaz."

-Simon ignored the rest. The voices were blurring. He had to stay away from y/n; their warmth could burn him if he got too close.

_______________________

-Dead.

-He held the dead girl's body in his arms.

-Riddled with bullets, their poor little hands weakly holding onto Ghost's uniform in a last hope for life.

-The blood on his hands wouldn't go away. He washed, scrubbed, scraped, over and over.

-The blood remained on his hands.

-He had to save them.

-He had failed.

-The mission was a success.

-But everyone was dead.

-The coldness of the body wouldn't go away.

-The shower didn't help; no matter how hard he scrubbed, increasing the heat, nothing could rid him of the horror.

-His breathing wouldn't calm, his vision darkening, his legs trembling.

-He knew what was happening.

-Slowly he sat on the floor, the sound of water deafening, his ears ringing, the hot and cold alternating in his body, sweat increasing. A panic attack.

-"One, two, three." He repeated. Trying to calm himself, he began counting again. One, two, three.

-But the numbers tangled, and the memories seemed so real. The girl's body seemed to be at his feet. He knew it was impossible; he was in a shower, in a terrible apartment, not on the battlefield. But nothing could be done about it.

-"Mr. Smith?"

-Everything shattered. His bubble burst, and suddenly reality hit him. Getting up, staggering, he grabbed a towel and walked to his front door out of habit.

-"Yes?" he managed to say, his hoarse voice scratching his throat.

-"I'm sorry to interrupt, but our shower exploded, and I was wondering if you knew about it or if you could let me borrow yours because I... I'm a bit covered in ink."

-He opened his door completely, and...

-y/n, hands covered in blue ink, even their nose staring at him wide-eyed. Remembering his attire consisting only of a towel, he closed the door.

-"I'll get dressed and be right there."

-"Yes, I- sorry again, I didn't know you were in the shower."

-He didn't reply. Damn it, he had promised not to let their into his life.

-Putting on a hoodie and sweatpants, he opened his door.

-"On the left at the back." He indicated in a slightly dry tone. His thoughts still roughed up after his panic attack.

-Noticing that y/n wasn't moving, he frowned.

-"I wanted to know if I offended you? I don't know if I'm imagining something, but it looks like you're avoiding me?"

-Not as discreet as he thought.

-"I was busy."

-"I see. If I offended you anyway, I apologize."

-"It's not your fault, y/n."

-"Oh."

-"Just... shitty job."

-"PTSD?"

-Simon stopped.

-"The walls are thin, you can hear the girl from the fifth floor sneezing, so you can imagine that your screams at night..." She added.

-"I see."

-"My father had it too, if you ever need help, well not psychological help, that's more for a therapist, but support, I can." y/n said anxiously.

-He blew air out of his nose.

-"Military father?"

-"Cop," they replied.

-Simon noticed the underlying tension.

-"Not on good terms?"

-"Few people get along with their father, right?"

-"Some do."

-"Do you?"

-"No."

-They smiled.

-"To rotten fathers, then.

-“To rotten fathers. Now I suppose you should hurry if you don't want the ink to dry on your hands."*

- "Oh shit, yeah."

-Y/n rushed into the shower. When they returned a few moments later, Simon watched them.

-"Any reason for this ink explosion?"

-"It's ridiculous,”they said, but Simon motioned for them to sit down.

-"Go ahead."

- "I like... tattooing. I don't have the talent, but I like to try tattooing fake skins in my spare time, but my blue ink exploded so I tried to use the shower but it looks like we have a plumbing problem."

-"Tattooing?"

-"Yeah, but it's nothing crazy, just a hobby."

-He nodded.

-"Well, I'll get going." they murmured.

-Ghost wanted to hold their back. His hand reaching out reflexively, he thought better of it.

_______________________________

-"So?"

-"So what? Didn't you listen to Price during the briefing?" Ghost replied to Soap.

-"Ah’m nae talkin’ about that, but the GIL mission."

-"Gil?"

-"Ghost in love."

-"I'm not in love."

-"Hmm, so nae progress wi’ the neighbor?"

-"Soap."

-The Scot stopped. Feeling the blue-eyed gaze not leaving him for a moment, Ghost sighed.

-"We talked again."

-"Ah!"

-“Shower problem, they needed one."

-"Is that it?"

-"We're neighbors."

-"That's disappointin’."

-"Thanks, Johnny." Ghost replied sarcastically.

-Simon spared the details. It wasn't just a shower, but a shower during the two weeks of leave he had had.

-With the plumber unable to find the problem, y/n and Léa had somewhat cohabited with Simon for that brief moment. Maybe... he had shared more teas with y/n than he admitted.

-Even if he wanted to flee, to shut himself off, to reject y/n, he crawled for a crumb of their attention.

_____________

-Returning from his mission, Simon walked through the hall when he heard it. Cries echoing in the corridor.

-His landing.

-Knowing that Madeline, the other neighbor on the landing, couldn't cry due to death, it was either Léa or y/n.

-Approaching, he noticed a silhouette sitting on the doormat. y/n. they seemed to be trying to pick up debris from the floor, their hands bleeding.

-Worried at the sight of the red liquid, he walked towards them without thinking, examining their wounds. Pieces of metal and glass were in their hand.

-"Simon," they managed to articulate between sobs.

-"What happened?"

-"It's stupid, honestly, I'm ridiculous crying over this, but... a box fell and broke my tattoo machine. I know I could buy a new one, but that... it broke me?"

-Ghost was relieved it wasn't anything serious. He nodded.

-"It's not a big deal, it's your passion."

-"I know, but an artist doesn't cry when they run out of lead with their pencil."

-"Well, then they should invest in tons of tissues," Simon joked.

-They laughed through the tears.

-"It's just... everything, I guess. I'm tired, I have a shitty job, I thought I'd finally make it with my fake skins, and now my machine breaks like a sign."

-"Not a sign," Simon said. "Don't give up. Now let me look at this; we'd want to avoid infection and stitches."

-They nodded and followed Simon into his apartment. Ghost's expert hands treating theirs.

-"The tattoo," Simon began. "It's not just a passion, is it?"

-"I... it was my dream for a while."

-"'Was'?"

-"My parents wanted something safe, I didn't know anatomy, people drew better than me. At 13, I was the artist of the class, the little prodigy, at 18 I was just an artist like everyone else. I had nothing... extraordinary, so I gave up."

-Simon nodded.

-"I don't think so," he finally added, finishing their bandage.

-"What?"

-"That you gave up. You may think so, but practicing so hard, continuing to do it every day, it seems like you've always held on."

-"I... never saw it like that."

-"Plus, who wouldn't dream of being tattooed by an angel?"

-"Simon!"

-He smiled.

-"I missed... our exchanges," they whispered.

-He stopped.

-"Me too."

-"Okay, so are we starting fresh? No more running away?"

-"I can't promise that."

-"Oh."

-"I was talking about constant exchange, I've been... an asshole thinking I was doing the right thing, but it seems obvious that no matter my efforts, our paths intersect."

-"So you'll stop running?" y/n asked, their eyes meeting his.

-"For now," Simon finally said.

-"I see, cool," y/n said.

-"Cool," he repeated, squeezing their hand.

-They got up and left. Simon let his eyes wander over their curves.

-Fuck.

_____________

- "Not a word, Johnny," Ghost said, putting his things down.

-"I didnae say anythin’!" the Scotsman complained, entering the briefing room.

-"I know what you were going to ask, and no."

-"So it's progressin’."

-"Johnny."

-"Okay. Just... ye're allowed tae be happy, L.T."

-"Hm."

-Simon avoided his gaze, his attention on Price. The captain questioned Simon with his eyes, Simon indicated with the same look that he would explain later.

________________

-“Ten o'clock breaks are nicer on a balcony."

-"Really? I thought you preferred waking up in the dark and stumbling around looking for your window," Ghost joked.

-y/n laughed. "Mean. It's cool to see the other side," they said, blowing on the tea Ghost had made.

-Sitting across from him, Simon could get used to it. A morning shared together, a breakfast enjoyed. The sun bathing their face, their hair tousled from waking up...

-"Hm, better than spying?"

-"You're the one who was stalking me."

-"You were doing the same."

-"But I wasn't looking at the other with a murderous look, I thought you hated me at first."

-"Really?"

-"Yes. I mean, I'm not the sexiest view in the world, so I thought you hated seeing me when you smoked. I even tried to shift my hours so you wouldn't see me."

-He laughed. "You're the sexiest view there is, y/n."

-"Wrong, there's Megan thee Stallion."

-"Hm, second view then."

-His phone beeped. Simon sighed.

-"Is it work?"

-"Yes."

-"You're leaving?"

-"In two days."

-"I guess you can't tell me where."

-"No."

-"Or how long."

-"Hm."

-"So, two months."

-"What?"

-"Well, if you can't say anything, I can imagine it, right? Like your mask, I never knew why, so I imagined you had vampire teeth."

-"Vampire teeth?" Simon mocked.

-"You never went out except at night, you came back late, your blinds were always closed, and your pale skin, what else could I think?"

-"Ill?"

-"..."

-"Hypochondriac? Scars?"

-"Okay, my theory was dumb, no need to twist the knife, Simon."

-He snorted.

-"You're beautiful without it," y/n finally added.

-"I know."

-"Fuck you, Simon, I'm trying to flirt."

-"Hm, 'trying' is the right word."

-"Simon."

-"Fine, 'thank you, y/n', is that better?"

-"Yes."

-Simon winked at them, y/n rolled their eyes.

-"By the way, I have a package arriving on Friday," Simon said.

-"And?"

-"It's for you."

-"A gift? But I didn't do anything."

-"That's the point of a gift, y/n. Plus, I know your birthday is coming soon."

-"Léa?"

-"Your ID."

-"How did you get it?"

-"I needed to check who you were," Simon lied.

-"...Léa," he eventually admitted.

-"I thought so."

-"Happy early birthday."

-"Thank you, Simon."

-And there, Simon wanted to engrave this image of their smile.

__________________

-Alone, lost in the forest, waiting for the target, Simon wondered what y/n was doing. Was they sleeping? Had they opened their gift? Did they like it?

-His thoughts stopped, focused on the mission, with a new desire. The desire to go home.

-To go home. To y/n.

_________________

-"Simon!"

-Tired, jet lag leaving his body heavy, but his eyes squinted at the sight of them.

-"y/n."

-"I..."

-They seemed hesitant to hug him, not quite sure what to do. Simon wanted it.

-"Oh damn, hugging y/n, melting into their warmth, leaving his hands on their curves, their thighs so soft, their hair."

-"Hug okay?" they asked.

-"More than okay."

-"Sure? I know it's not your thing, so it's not obligatory."

-"y/n, I'm sure."

-they nodded and hugged him. their scent filling his nostrils, Simon let go of his bag, letting his arms wrap around them. An embrace comforting him, finally stopping this fatigue. Ghost could leave to let Simon come home.

-"Welcome back," y/n murmured into the embrace.

-"I'm back," he whispered back.

-"I missed you. I... thank you for your gift. I... you're crazy to have spent so much, a machine of this quality..."

-"I intend to let my second sleeve be done by you."

-y/n backed away, surprised.

-"Simon, you don't even know my tattoo style."

-"And?"

-"Imagine if I'm into kawaii? Or a cute colorful Hello Kitty watercolor?"

-"Then I'll have a magnificent Hello Kitty," Simon replied.

-they laughed.

-"That would suit you well."

-"Without a doubt."

-"I might do that when I get my certification."

-"Wait, certification?"

-"I passed the hygiene certification. It's time I stop putting myself down. If I'm a failed artist, well, at least I'll be an artist."

-Simon smiled.

-"I'll be your first fan."

-"Léa is already there."

-"I already have to fight for you, damn."

-"I'm popular, you'll have to get used to it."

-He smiled.

-"Well, I'll let you go home. Good night, I suppose." y/n smiled and went home.

-He nodded and went into his apartment. However, he stopped.

-"y/n?"

-"Hm?"

-The words didn't come. Ask them to stay for what? Tea? Talk? He felt so pathetic.

-But y/n seemed to read him and took his hand, leading him into his apartment. Guiding him to his bed, they lay down beside him. Their bodies still clothed under the sheets drew closer.

-"I didn't imagine the first time in your bed like this."

-"Really?"

-"Hm, yes. I imagined a bit more warmth."

-"The heating is there."

-"Oh, shut up, Simon, you know that's not what I meant," y/n said, laughing.

-He nodded. His hands finding their place on y/n's body, embracing them.

-"My thighs aren't stress balls, Simon."

-"No, they're perfection incarnate. So soft, trembling, they're perfect."

-"It's fat."

-"Exactly."

-y/n chuckled and relaxed into his arms.

-"Does this mean something, us?" they murmured.

-"Yes."

-Not another question, and Simon fell into a deep sleep.

-Waking up, y/n in his arms, Simon decided he didn't want to wake up without their anymore. Enjoying the brief moments of peace, he let his thumbs trace circles on their back.

-"Hey," they murmured.

-"Hey."

-"Did you sleep well?"

-"Yes."

-"Simon, you have to let me go if we're going to get up."

-"Why get up?"

-"To eat?"

-His stomach answered for him. Simon sighed and got up.

______________________________

-"L.T., how dare ye?"

-"Soap."

-"Why?!"

-"Why what?" Simon asked, irritated, looking up from his reports.

-"Ye slept wi’ them!"

-"How do you know that?"

-"Ye smell good."

-Simon frowned.

-"So, I don't smell good usually?"

-"Na, ye smell like aftershave, but now it's soft."

-"Yes, I slept with them. Need details?"

-"AYE!"

-"Well, you won't get any. It was platonic, nothing sexual."

-"...so a nap."

-"Yes, McTavish, a nap."

-"...damn it, L.T., that's disappointin’."

-"I don't care."

-"Invite me tae the weddin’ in a century then."

-"You won't be invited."

-"You love me too much for that, L.T.!"

-"In your dreams, McTavish."

______________________

-"So, a lovebird in your life?"

-"Not you too, Cap."

-"I'm just curious, Simon. I know how closed off you are."

-"They're the one, sir."

-"Nice?"

-"They understand PTSD and all that shit."

-"Hm, so one to keep."

-"To marry."

-"Good luck, Simon."

-"Thanks, Cap."

----

-"Simon?"

-Blood. y/n, dead. Simon standing over their body.

-Gasping, he stood at his door, needing to know, to touch them, to prove they were alive.

-He hugged their, checking their pulse. It wasn't an illusion; they were there.

-"Simon, five things you see," y/n murmured, understanding he was there without being there.

-"You, my hands, your doormat, your coat, and your slippers," Simon eventually articulated.

-"Four things you touch."

-"y/n."

-"Simon, focus."

-"Your hair, your neck, your hips, your shoulders, your cheek."

-"Three things you hear."

-"Your pulse, my pulse, your voice."

-"Two things you smell."

-"My sweat, your perfume."

-"One thing you taste."

-"My blood."

-y/n nodded, and Simon opened his mouth, his teeth so tight he had bitten his tongue. His breath, still shaky, was calming.

-"I'm there," y/n murmured, not moving from his embrace.

-"Do you want to talk about it?" they asked.

-"No."

-"Let's sit on my couch, better than standing at the entrance of the apartment, okay?"

-Simon didn't let go of them for a moment.

-Hours passed, nothing could calm his paranoia.

-"You haven't shaved," y/n murmured.

-Simon couldn't articulate, he just nodded.

-"Can I do it for you? I know under your mask, it must feel better when you're clean-shaven."

-He nodded again. Slowly they guided him into their tiny bathroom, shaving him precisely, calmly, in a soothing silence. His eyes never leaving their face, Simon wanted to scream, cry, shake them, show them he was broken, reject them, make them run away but...

--they were there. Not forcing him to talk, letting him slowly come back down, anchoring him to reality.

-"You know, sunscreen and moisturizer would help your skin a lot," they murmured as they applied the lotions to his face slowly.

-"Especially with your chalky complexion," they added, chuckling.

-That sound, so soft, calmed his heart.

-"Okay," he managed to say.

-"I'll buy you some."

-"...Thank you."

-"Thank you for everything, for the crisis, for the beard, for the lotions, for not asking questions, for welcoming me into your life."

-"You're welcome," they replied, understanding the implication.

__________________________

-"I got rejected," y/n murmured.

-It was 10 a.m., they were on their balcony, the rain falling, they were sheltered.

-"None?"

-"No tattoo parlor accepted me for apprenticeship. Maybe I'm not good enough."

-"Or they're just blind."

-"Simon."

-"You'll make it, y/n," Simon murmured, taking their hand.

-"Maybe, but I... don't feel legitimate to continue."

-"Van Gogh was considered worthless all his life."

-"I hope to have recognition before death, Si'," y/n said, laughing.

-"And there it is, the smile suits you better."

-"Thank you, Si'."

-"Always there."

-they nodded.

___________________________

-"Si'."

-Late at night, in front of a cheap show, they were on their couch.

-"Hm?"

-"Are you... attracted to me?"

-"y/n."

-"I don't want big words, it's just... I don't want to be with someone who loves my personality and accepts my body out of pity. Not feeling desired, I know what that's like, feeling like a second option too, and I've never... addressed the subject with you. Being with a fat person is something different, the looks of others... it's something. And I don't want to be a secret or a shame."

-Simon observed them.

-"So I've been shitty."

-"What?"

-"Because every step, every breath, every part of you ignites a burning desire in me, y/n. I've been shitty at showing it if you think for a moment that every inch of you, every roll, every stretch mark isn't something I love about you."

-their breath caught for a moment.

-"I want to touch you, taste you, let your plump thighs around my head as I kiss you, I want to feel that belly with every bounce when we make love, I want to kiss this body."

-"I- I just wanted a yes, Simon," y/n replied, their voice rising in pitch, their gaze shifting away from the sudden warmth in the room.

-"Well, you have it," Simon added, a predatory look in his eyes.

-"Yes."

-The silence stretched.

-"Aren't you going to do anything, y/n?"

-y/n leaned in.

-"Yes."

-they kissed him.

_____________________

-"L.T., thanks again for coming."

-"No one wanted to miss this, McTavish," Price added.

-"A Scottish Hello Kitty tattoo, that's not to be missed, that's for sure," Gaz said as he entered the small salon.

-The place was peaceful, comfortable. A young woman greeted them and guided them to the artist's station.

-The men settled. Soap in the chair, the others on the chairs to support him.

-"Hello everyone."

-Price and Gaz greeted the tattoo artist, but Soap spoke up.

-"YOU BASTARD! YE DIDN'T TELL ME!"

-"Soap, what's-" Price began.

-"I don't need help, Johnny, I told you."

-"Ye didnae tell me, it's horrible, I was waitin’ and ye two, ye... how long?" he asked y/n.

-"Six months."

-"SIX MONTHS?!"

-"Wait, you're..."

-"y/n, meet Gaz Kyle Garrick and John Price. This is y/n, my lover."

-"Pleased to meet you," Price said, shaking their hand. "I'm surprised this big guy managed to find someone as lovely as you."

-"Thank you."

-"Six months," Soap repeated.

-"I wanted to tell you, but we wanted to take our time and with all my paperwork to find an apprenticeship and a place, I didn't realize how time passed," y/n admitted.

-"Wait, ye’re an apprentice?" Soap asked, terrified.

-"Yes, but don't worry, I'm not doing your tattoo today. I'm just preparing the equipment," y/n joked.

-"Oh, nae that I dinnae trust ye but-"

-"Don't worry."

-At 10 a.m., lost in a tattoo parlor watching Johnny get a Scottish Hello Kitty, y/n by his side, and Gaz and Price smiling.

-Ghost had finally found a new meaning to home, and he wouldn't leave it for anything in the world.

#cod x reader #ghost x reader #call of duty x reader #simon riley x plus size reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader

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oleander-nin · 10 months

Text

TMNT: Mutant Mayhem Yandere Headcanons

A/N, not important: Saw the movie the day it came out, then did this before I forgot everything. I'm going to be making both yan and non yan bots of them soon, so yay. Sorry if any of them are OOC, I'm going off of memory. I'll tweak them once I can see the movie again. Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.

-Ollie

Tw: kidnap mentions, dark themes, yanderes, manipulation, stalking, ai, Mutant Mayhem spoilers

Words: 2246

Summary: Mutant Mayhem Yandere Headcanons

Mikey:

Mikey would be a dependent yandere with protective and manipulative tendencies.

Mikey cares for those around him and bonds quickly, but you, you’re a human. You’re everything he’s ever wanted to be.

You’re human, you’re perfect, and you’re his.

He is constantly worried about you, almost like a mother hen. Once he realizes how the human body is more fragile and weaker than his own, he gets really protective about you.

He doesn’t go about it well though. Mikey wants to hang out with you the way he knows how, and that usually involves some sketchy or dangerous stunts. Despite his worry for your safety, he still drags you into unnecessarily dangerous areas because he wants to show off or play hero. He does get upset when you get hurt, and he tries to save you when something happens, but he doesn't stop bringing you into the situations in the first place.

He wants to impress you and keep you interested in him. He’s still paranoid that everyone might forget the good they’ve done and decide to cast them away, so he is in constant need of approval.

He treats you like royalty, to the best of his ability of course. You’re his first priority when it comes to most things. If anyone tries to harass you, he’s quick to step up and use his influence to shut it down. Or force if needed.

Mikey’s aloof and in constant need of your praise and attention. He just wants to be able to hang out with you, but he does understand you can’t do everything he can. Which is why he takes you along anyway so you can depend on him. He just wants you to see he’s needed. Love him so he can keep loving you.

Needs you around him constantly, his mental health relies on it. You’re everything to him, and he doesn’t even realize as he puts more and more of his burdens onto you. You’re his everything.

Uses the fact he never had much social interaction to brush off anything weird he does. Mind you, he completely knows he’s in the wrong, he just doesn’t care much. He slowly deteriorates your will until you depend on him too, making you think everything is normal. He just wants normal, but he realizes he’ll never truly have that. So, he makes his own.

Mikey also wouldn’t hurt you, or at least, not on purpose. You deserve the world, but sometimes the things he drags you into don’t go as well as he wants. In those cases, Mikey leaves with you in tow, fretting over you the entire time. He never wants to hurt you, he just wants you to be happy with him. He’s gotten really good at bandaging you over the time he’s known you.

Mikey would wait until you’re both older before kidnapping you. He knows it wouldn’t go well, plus he can’t keep you anywhere in the lair. He might try and figure out how to run away with you, but he loves his family too much to try. He’d wait it out with you, loving you to the best of his twisted ability.

In the meantime, he makes sure you’re with him every step of the way. He pulls you in with cheesy pickup lines and jokes, trying to make you forget all the bad that has happened with him.

Donnie:

Donnie was harder to pinpoint, but I think he’d definitely be a more delusional and stalking yandere. Possibly even an isolating one.

As always, Donnie seems to be the tech nerd, with his little bed fort including all these computers and electronics and such. He’s almost always on his phone, and knows how to navigate the digital world quite well, so he uses that to his advantage in a lot of ways.

He’s always watching you, and has massed hundreds of pictures and videos of you on his phone. He likes to just look at them at night, making edits of you and collages of his favorites. He probably even taught himself how to hack into camera systems so he could find more film of you.

From all the audio clips he’s recorded of you, he developed a scarily accurate AI voice of you that he uses to talk to him. Whether it’s making it say sweet nothings to him, or to just have one way conversation type stuff, he’s hooked to it.

Eventually, he starts to believe the voice, and forgets the audio recordings he saved of the AI isn’t actually something you said. He starts to fully believe you’re just as in love with him as he is with you and that you’re just too shy to confess to him. Donnie gets really upset if anyone tries to break him out of his delusion by reminding him it isn’t real.

Is already convinced you’re both basically dating despite neither of you ever actually talking to each other.

I mean, he saved the world. Who wouldn’t want to date him. He’s obviously the coolest boyfriend you can possibly get.

In the back of Donnie’s mind, he knows what he’s doing isn’t right, but it’s as if he falls into quicksand with his delusion. Every time he tries to remind himself that something is wrong, he sinks deeper into his idea that this is just how your relationship works. You can’t always trust what you see online, after all. The movies and TV shows just aren’t depicting it right.

When he finally does ‘confess’ his feelings for you, it’s less of a confession of love and more of an assumption you already said yes. You barely get a word in before he’s telling the entire world about your relationship with him.

He never gets too violent, but he will push you around sometimes. Anytime you poke a hole in his perfect fantasy of how your relationship is, he freaks out and starts to whine until you give in.

Would one day just bring you home. Since in his mind what he’s doing is perfectly normal, he sees nothing wrong with taking you home and keeping you there. He doesn’t like having to share space with his brothers still, but that’s okay. He can make room for you in his bed area and you can just stay there! Until his dad or the other mutants let you leave of course.

This would devastated Donnie, and would probably be his snapping point for waking up and seeing it wasn’t as perfect as he made it. But, unlucky you, he only snapped out of the ‘everyone else sees this as normal too’ bit.

Next time, he just brings you to a whole new area of the sewer to live. Just you and him, together forever. Just as it was meant to be.

Raph:

Raph would be an overprotective and a threatening kind of yandere.

Raph was always one of the first to suggest they do something and ran in head first into a problem. He was also always one of the first to dip when things started to go south. If someone tries to start something with you, he’s not afraid to remind them why people once considered him a monster.

Directs his need for a physical anger release at your friends/family instead of you. He doesn't want to hurt you, but he needs you to understand how you rejecting him is hurting him. So, he threatens your family and/or friends to get the message across.

Oh, you don’t love him anymore? Well, guess you better start preparing those savings to pay off some medical bills.

He’s prone to violence and is very loud, but only the verbal side will ever be targeted at you. He’ll shout, cry, mock, or even belittle you if it means you won’t leave him for just one more minute. He’ll comfort you afterwards of course, but he panicked and it just spilled out. It’s your fault, really.

If you have something that makes you insecure, he might randomly bring it up to poke fun or mess with you if you’re being difficult. He tries to

Would punch someone just for looking at you weird.

Doesn’t tolerate any flack from anyone when it comes to you. You’re his special someone, no ones getting in the way. He’d fight Superfly all over again if it meant you were safe and happy with him.

Loves to show off in front of you. If you ever go to watch one of his wrestling matches, he’s absolutely dominating the mat. And probably getting a lot of points off for illegal moves.

Loves to drag you around and make you do the stuff he wants to do. You’re his partner, you need to support him after all. He gets offended if you have other plans or just don’t want to hang out with him at any given time.

He’ll most likely try to sabotage your plans or make you feel guilty for not hanging out with him.

When it comes to kidnapping, it would definitely be harder for them to pull it off. Not only does he have his dad and brothers to worry about, but now there’s a whole plethora of other mutants living in the same sewer pipe as him. What he’d most likely do is try and find a secluded area in the sewers to keep you in.

He’d fix it up to the best of his ability and make sure it was a safe area to stay in, then he’d just take you and move you in.

He’d be baffled when you get mad at him for bringing you here. He promises to take care of you, he just thinks it’d be better for you to stay here. Where it’s safe. With him. And no one else to bother you.

He, of course, does not stay there, but always knowing where you are makes him happy. To him, it’s the thought that counts.

Leo:

Leo shows signs of being a worshiping or obsessed yandere with hints of dependence.

Like how he did with April, he latches on to you, and he latches on fast.

This man never lets you go. Glued to your hip 24/7, 365. Anything you do, you’re doing it with him by your side.

He just constantly needs to be near you at all times. You are everything to him, and he needs to prove it to you. Have chores? He’s showing up at your house to lend a hand. Need to go somewhere? He can take you there, no problem. You never get a second to breathe from how much he stays near you.

He sees no wrong in anything you do. You’re a walking, talking, embodiment of perfection! Of course he’s going to vehemently defend no matter what. If you did it, it was the right thing to do, no matter the situation.

He’s constantly talking about you to anyone who’ll listen. Leatherhead asks him to play some games? He’s talking about your favorite game the whole time and how good you are at playing it. Everything is about you. No one knows how he does it, but he can divert any conversation into a love blind rant about you.

He gets all huffy when you don’t give him as much attention as he wants. You’re his everything, so why can’t you just treat him the same? It’s not like it takes a lot of effort, you just need to pay attention to him instead of whatever else you’re doing.

Guilt trips you A LOT. He doesn’t really mean to, but he definitely plays the ‘poor me, I’m a mutant and people think I’m a monster’ card anytime you show any hesitance with anything he does.

He’s your own personal knight. If you have any trouble, whether you got robbed, are being bullied, etcetera etcetera, he’s there to help. He still loves violence like his brothers, and he would never pass up the chance to fight. Especially if it was in your honor.

Doesn’t hurt you, but can get really frustrated if you resist him. He will play his woe is me routine, but if that doesn’t work, he’ll withdraw from you completely. He’s still watching you of course. He’d never actually leave. But you don’t know that. Just like you don’t know he’s the one who made sure you’d run into trouble the next night and only had Leo to call on. You need him, just as he needs you. He’ll forgive you of course, but he’ll hold it over your head for about a week, just to make sure you won’t try again for a while.

Doesn't kidnap you. He thinks about it a lot of course. Being able to be with you every second of the day, to make sure you’re safe and happy. But he logically knows he can’t. He even tried to convince you to run away with him a couple of times, but that didn’t go over well. Instead, he spends every waking moment by your side. Pushes for sleepovers, hangouts, dates, all the things. There’s never a time when he’s not near you.

And if you do say no or try to make other plans? Well he just ‘happens’ to be in the area and shows up.

He doesn't understand how you could ever be angry or upset and anything he does. After all, it’s all for you. You should be thanking him.

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whateveryouwant90 · 14 days

Text

The one that got away

Listen, i don't really know what this is, i just had the idea and wrote it so feels free to tell me if you like it or if you think it’s shit.

Art Donaldson x fem!reader but also kind of Patrick Zweig x fem!Reader

As Art's gaze fell upon Tashi for the first time, it was as if the universe had conspired to shift its entire focus onto her. At that moment, all else faded into insignificance, eclipsed by the radiance of her presence. Tashi became the sun around which his world orbited, and everyone else merely became distant planets, revolving in the outskirts of his newfound obsession.

His girlfriend, once the center of his affection, now found herself relegated to the shadows, cast aside in the wake of Art's infatuation with Tashi. Her voice became a mere whisper amidst the clamor of his thoughts, her touch a fleeting memory that paled in comparison to the allure of Tashi's magnetic pull. He found himself drawn to her like a moth to a flame, unable to resist the gravitational force that tugged at his heartstrings.

And as the days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, Art's obsession with Tashi only grew stronger, blinding him to the collateral damage left in its wake. His girlfriend, once his pillar of support, now stood on the sidelines, a silent witness to the unraveling of their relationship in the face of Art's unrelenting fixation.

Art remained oblivious to the pain he caused, his focus solely fixated on Tashi and the intoxicating allure she held over him. And as he spiraled deeper into the depths of his obsession, Y/n started seeing things as they were. She stayed in the relationship for months hoping that her sweet boyfriend would come back to her, but their conversation was starting to become shorter and duller and only about how amazing Tashi was.

Today, like every day, she was debating on when was going to put herself first and break up with him. She was sitting behind a tree at the Standford campus reading one of her favorite books but couldn't concentrate thinking about how and when was the right time to finish her tormentus relationship with Art. Caught up in her own thoughts she missed her friend calling out for her.

"Hey, y/n/n! What's going on in that beautiful head of yours?" Patricks says coming closer and giving her a kiss on the forehead before sitting down next to her on the grass.

Y/n blinked, momentarily pulled from the swirling vortex of her thoughts by Patrick's familiar voice. She forced a small smile, grateful for the distraction his presence provided.

"Hey, Patrick! Oh my gosh what are you doing here?" she greeted, the weight of her impending decision heavy in her chest but slightly lighter now that her friend is back from his tour.

"I came here to see you guys. Plus I'm not gonna lie I miss my girlfriend" He says with that signature smirk of his. "Now, are you gonna tell me what got you so zoned out?".

"Just... thinking about stuff, you know?" You answered not knowing if you wanted to talk to Patrick about the whole Art and Tashi situation again.

Patrick settled comfortably beside her, his warm presence a comforting anchor in the storm of her emotions. "Anything you want to talk about?" he asked, his eyes filled with genuine concern.

Y/n hesitated, unsure if she was ready to vocalize the turmoil brewing within her heart. But as she looked into Patrick's kind eyes, she found herself opening up, the words tumbling out in a rush.

"It's Art," she confessed, the name heavy on her tongue. "He's... he's so caught up in this obsession with Tashi, and I don't know what to do anymore. I've tried to be patient, to wait for him to come back to me, but it's like I'm invisible to him now."

Patrick listened attentively, his brow furrowing in sympathy as he absorbed her words. "Y/n, you deserve so much more than someone who can't see your worth," he said gently, reaching out to squeeze her hand. "You're strong, you're beautiful, and you deserve to be with someone who sees that."

Tears welled in Y/n's eyes, her heart aching with the truth of Patrick's words. For months, she had clung to the hope that Art would come back to her, but deep down, she knew that it was time to let go.

"Thank you, Pat." She says grabbing his cheek and giving him her classic sweet smile.

"Of course beautiful" He responds feeling sorry for his friend. "I'm gonna go find Tashi but I'll see you after the match?".

"Sure, but I think I'm going to talk to Art after it, so I'll text you when I'm done," she replied, gathering her belongings and heading to her next class, unaware of what lay ahead.

After a rather unproductive class, she checked her phone and saw missed calls from Patrick and seven text messages detailing his fallout with Tashi. Despite wanting to help her friend and let him unwind, she decided to find Art first and collect her thoughts.

She arrived at Tashi's match, expecting to see Art cheering as usual, only to find no one there. Concerned, she inquired about Tashi's absence, her empathy for the girl overcoming any envy. As she walked through the tunnels, she witnessed Patrick's desperate plea to Tashi, met with rejection. Then, her boyfriend's unexpected outburst towards Patrick echoed through the corridor, a stark reminder of his protective instincts.

Scared to intervene, she observed Art's worry for Tashi, feeling a pang of familiarity in his concern. Despite the situation not involving her directly, she felt drawn to him, his presence stirring conflicting emotions within her.

Summoning her courage, she approached him slowly, her heart pounding in her chest. "Hey, Art," she began tentatively, her voice barely above a whisper. "Can we talk?"

As Tashi and Art both turned to look her way, Art excused himself from Tashi's side and made his way over to Y/n, seamlessly intertwining their hands as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Hey babe, what's up?" Art greeted, his tone casual despite the weight of the impending conversation.

Y/n took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. "Art, I know this might not be the best moment, but... it never really is, is it?" she started, her gaze drifting downwards to avoid the intensity of his piercing blue eyes. "I love you more than words can express, but... I can't ignore the obvious anymore."

Art's brows furrowed in confusion, but Y/n pressed on, her words tumbling out in a rush. "You're in love with Tashi, Art. And that's okay, but... I can't keep pretending like everything's okay when it's not. I can't watch you pine for another woman right in front of me, hoping for scraps of attention. It's not fair to either of us."

"Babe, wait, I-" Art attempted to interject, but Y/n held up a hand, silencing him.

"Please, let me finish," she pleaded softly, her voice tinged with sadness. "If you really love me, you'll let me go. I... I can't keep doing this to myself. I deserve better, and so do you. I'm sorry it didn't work out, Art. I truly am. But... I have to do what's best for me." With that, Y/n leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Art's cheek before turning away, leaving him speechless and rooted to the spot.

She found her best friend waiting for her outside, mirroring her own state of heartache. Together, they offered each other solace and support as they walked away, leaving behind a chapter of their lives that had come to a bittersweet end. But in that ending, they found the strength to begin anew, embracing the promise of brighter tomorrows.

I can't keep watching you fall, for another woman right in front of my eyes. So if you really love me, you will let me go. I'm sorry this didn't work out, I wish you the best, and take care". Y/n left him speechless, so much so that he couldn't even move. She kissed him on the cheeks and walked off finding her best friend outside in the same state as her. Together they left and supported each other.

#art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers imagine #challengers drabble #Art donaldson imagine

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fluffy-dixon · 3 months

Note

Heyyy! So that's my first time writing a request so it's going to be bad. Anyway. I was thinking after an one shot or a drable,whichever one you prefer,of Daryl being realy insecure about his body and standing in front of a mirror and just judging himself(like every part of him,how he is worn down and reader needs someone better than him). And reader is 10 years younger than him so he thinks she is going to dump him for a younger guy. And at some point reader comes behind him and asks what's wrong and when she finds out she starts to reassure him he is so handsome and amazing and how she doesn't want another guy.(thats up to you but if he says something about the scars she kisses them...al of them ) so that's it. I hope you like this kind of thing❤️❤️

The Seasoned Archer

for @kkarina1311 - slight nsfw if you squint but mostly fluff

The soft glow of the bathroom light spilled out into the hallway, casting a warm rectangle on the wooden floor. Your hand hesitated on the doorknob, the faint sound of water running and Daryl’s mumbled words reaching your ears. The past few days had kept you apart—Daryl out hunting for the group, you helping with the recovery efforts in Alexandria after the whisperers’ last but final attack.

Last night, you noticed his distance, a quiet reserve that didn’t match the hours of conversation you shared when it was just the two of you. But you brushed it off; after all, you knew each other better than anyone else. Five years of trust had blossomed into something more—a love that made every moment together precious.

Now, officially together for a year, you couldn’t imagine a world without him.

Peaking around the door Daryl was in there, about to step into the shower, and something in his demeanour caught your attention. He was fully naked, his back to me, staring at his own reflection in the foggy mirror. His brow was furrowed, a solemn look fell across his face as he looked at his appearance closer, he rubbed his stubbly grey beard, shortly followed by ruffling his hands through his hair observing the now silver delicate hairs popping out between his chocolate brown existing ones. He let out a sigh rubbing the tired bags underneath his eyes. You could see the anxiety and worry that riddled through him.

Pushing the door open, you stepped inside. The steam from the shower enveloped you.

“Daryl,” you said softly, you voice barely audible over the water. He jumped, spinning around to you and you saw the surprise in his eyes. Surprise, and maybe a hint of embarrassment.

“Didn’t hear ya come in,” he mumbled, reaching for a towel to cover himself. But you stepped closer, stopping him.

“Don’t,” you said, your gaze steady. “Don’t hide.”

He looked away, his jaw clenched. “I ain’t nothin’ special,” he muttered. “Just an old redneck with too many scars.”

“What’s brought this on?”

You moved closer, fingers brushing against his warm skin.

“Daryl, look at me.”

Reluctantly, he met your eyes. There was pain there, a raw vulnerability that tore at your heart. “I’m too old for ya,” he whispered. “You deserve better.”

Daryl’s fingers trembled, brushing against the mirror’s foggy surface. His reflection wavered, a mosaic of memories and regrets.

“You’re not just an old redneck,” you insisted, stepping closer. “You’re a survivor, a protector, and damn it, you’re my heart.”

His gaze flickered, torn between disbelief and longing. “I ain’t good enough,” he rasped. “Too many demons.”

“Demons?” You traced the lines on his chest, each scar a testament to battles fought. “These scars? They’re proof of your strength, your resilience. And your heart? It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever known.”

Daryl’s breath hitched. “I ain’t young anymore, “I saw you with the others, they’re all more your age”

Your heart sank.

“I’m just trying to help darling. Yes, you may be 10 years older than me but what does it even matter in this world?! It literally doesn’t bother me, plus older mature whisky is much better” you winked.

He sighed.

“Daryl, listen to me.” Your voice firm, unwavering.

“I love every damn thing about you Dixon, there is no man on earth that could match what you do for me, I would be completely lost without you. My heart will FOREVER be yours. Always. I’m not going anywhere, not without you anyway”

His gaze softened, and you saw a flicker of hope.

“But—”

“No buts,” you interrupted. “I love you. Grey hairs, demons, scars, and all. I’m not going anywhere.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I ain’t good at this, Words and shit” he admitted.

You smiled, leaning in to kiss him. “There’s no need for fancy words,” you said.

“Oh and…” you moved your head whispering into his ear, all sultry.

“…It requires a seasoned man to perform the actions to make me scream like that” you whispered, your teeth grazing your lower lip.

That was enough to tip him over the edge, Daryl encircled you, pulling you even closer, his lips found yours it was hungry and needy. Deepening the kiss his hands roamed all over your body, but you interrupted him, pulling back, arms still wrapped around his neck loosely, you spoke again,

“Daryl, you’re stuck with me” you whispered against his mouth, foreheads resting together as he panted against you.

He chuckled, a low, rumbling sound that echoed through the bathroom. Tears flowing down freely down his cheeks in happiness.

“I love you so much Y/N, you have no idea just how much you mean to me” his voice cracked.

“I’m eternally yours, Daryl Dixon”

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #norman reedus #twd #daryl x reader #daryl #daryl dixon x reader #daryl fanfiction #daryl x y/n #daryl x female reader #daryl twd #the walking dead daryl #twd daryl #daryl dixion x reader

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megamindsecretlair · 6 months

Text

The King and I, Part 1

Pairing: King Ghezo x Virgin!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. This is more background than anything, so mentions of violence, violence against women, brief mentions of rape, torture, murder, slave trade, and suicidal ideation. Hopefully this will be 3 parts, will lead to smut! Ya heathens, I know what you here for LOL. And you all deserve forehead kisses.

Summary: Raised to be perfect, your father has had it with your disobedience. He marches you to the palace and throws you at the King's feet. You'd rather die than be another person's property. But the King surprises you in many ways.

Word Count: 3,533k

A/N: Couldn't get this idea out of my brain and it definitely doesn't follow the canon in the movie. AH well, LOL. I love it and that's all that matters. Hopefully, my brain continues to cooperate. Please, please consider commenting and reblogging to help support writers! And please put ages in bios! Or get blockt!

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

Taglist: @planetblaque @browngirldominion

Before you had a chance to be a little girl, you were coveted for your looks. How pretty you were. How nice your hair was. Paraded out in front of many odd, adult people who looked at you with strange things in their eyes. Things you were too young to understand.

As you got older, it only got worse. You were expected to sit there like a doll and let people talk over you or around you, as if you were no more than grass beneath their feet. Wind in their hair. Something always there and easily ignored.

So you made the decision to be seen. You gave opinions when they weren’t wanted. You stayed in other people’s business. You resisted and rebelled. It was nice while it lasted.

Your father made sure to curb you of such habits. But somehow, the punishments never took like they were supposed to. You continued to speak. To use the gifts the gods gave you. If they did not want you to speak, they should have taken your tongue.

At his end, your father gave up his pursuit of a wealthy match for you. “If you will not listen to me, I will give you to someone you have no choice but to obey!” Spittle flew from your father’s mouth.

As you were marched to the palace, that was the one thing you focused on. Your father was a proud man. Perhaps you had gone a step too far if he was letting spit fly from his mouth with abandon. This was the least of your concern, true, but being cast off on the newly appointed King Ghezo was too big to face head on.

People in the village watched as you were marched there, your father’s grip on your arm near bruising. His thick fingers were wrapped around your upper arm. He set a brutal pace and walked forward whether you were able to keep up or not. You stared at the people. You made them look at you.

You didn’t expect them to do anything to help you. No one ever lifted a finger to help little girls. You were many years an adult by now, but to everyone, you were still so young. Young in the ways of the world. But growing up, weren’t you taught the ways of the world?

The powerful were in charge with no one to challenge them otherwise. While everyone else was sheep, forced to do their bidding.

Your feet tripped over rocks in the dirt road. Your father continued marching. The palace gates were not far now. Dread started to inch its way to your heart. You had never seen the King, but you heard how your parents whispered about him. How he was both similar and different from his father and brother.

His father had been a cruel man, living in ways that your people hadn’t lived before. Surely, his son would be no different. When you learned that you were going to be given to the new king, you pictured how ugly he must be. How cruel.

Your father was handing you over like a piece of meat. Handing his daughter over as if he had no hand in birthing you, raising you, guiding, and protecting you. Now you were nothing to him. You looked at him as he jostled you down the street. His eyes were set forward, a frown on his face.

Did he not feel anything at all? All these years you had been in his care and there wasn’t an ounce of feeling in him.

“Did you ever love me?” You asked. You were out of breath and it was said softly. Perhaps he didn’t hear you. You hoped. You didn’t really want to hear his answer. Hear that despite everything else, he did not share that love for you as you did for him all these years.

“You are an insolent child. I will make more of you. I will instill in them obedience where you had none,” he spat.

You refused to cry. You had an idea that he didn’t truly love you. Sometimes he’d look at you with such…hate. As if you were a stubborn stain he could not remove. You thought it was because of your looks. Because it was all anyone could talk about. But even when it was just you and your mother, he would still look at you as if he could cast you out with a single look.

At the palace gates, the guards halted your father. The red doors were large, stretching high above you. Anyone who went in, never came back out. You heard whispered words about why the King would need so many women. There was talk of him eating flesh. If he sold it, was there a big stretch to eating it?

You’d die before you got eaten. As your father argued with the guards, telling how he had a disobedient child that the King could do whatever he wanted with, you made the second biggest decision of your life. You will die before harm befell you. In whatever form that was.

If the King forced himself on you, you’d kill him and take yourself with him. If he tried to put you in a stew, you’d make him watch as you bled all over his fancy robes. The guards finally opened the gates enough for you to peek through.

Women were engaged in combat. Your mouth dropped open at how fierce they looked. You were not allowed to look upon the Agojie when they returned from their battles beyond the walls of the kingdom. But now you dared not to look away.

Your father pushed you forward. One of the guards caught you and you turned your head to your father. This was the most satisfied you had ever seen him. He hoped that the King did something awful to you. He was counting on it.

You straightened up behind the walls of the palace. You looked your father in the eyes and you smiled. You spat on the ground at his feet, that smile still on your face. His smile faltered, rage contorting his features. You turned your back on him and walked into the lion’s lair.

The guards handed you off one by one until a young guard escorted you to the front of the palace. In the training yard, men and women walked around with heads held high. It had never been your intention to become Agojie, but perhaps the mad King will let you once he found out how unsuitable for a wife you were.

The thought of killing anyone made you ill, but it would be better than to be bound to someone who could have you killed with one word.

The guard took you to the door that led to the inner palace. An Agojie met you there, a tall woman with beautiful features and sharp nails. She looked you up and down and conversed with the guard. You didn’t pay attention. You were marching to your death, what did the particulars matter?

The woman took possession of you, leading you into the inner palace where it was women only. Everywhere you looked, there were Dahomey women walking freely. They laughed! They trained, they ran, and hugged each other without abandon. There were a few women from other tribes there, but…this sight robbed you of clear thought.

“You will catch flies if you leave your mouth open like that,” the Agojie said.

The Agojie stalked forward, a hand on the hilt of her weapon. You briefly wondered how you could steal one unnoticed. You searched around you. There were weapons everywhere but there were so many Agojie, you doubted you’d be able to capture one.

“What’s your name?” You asked.

“Nanisca,” the warrior said. “You’d do well to listen to whatever the King wants.”

You didn’t need to be reminded of the King’s cruelty. It was all your father taunted you with for days as he made his decision to hand you over. You followed Nanisca to the palace proper. There, a man dressed in bright purple robes greeted you. He was bald with lots of jewelry hanging from his nose, ears, and around his neck. He looked you up and down and then rolled his eyes towards Nanisca.

“I suppose we will have this to look forward to from now on,” he said.

“As long as our King breathes air,” Nanisca said. She left you there with the man.

“Come,” he said. You followed him, though dread made your steps wooden and your limbs frozen. You were too deep to escape now. But escape to where? Outside the kingdom, you ran the risk of slavers. Rapists. Murderous thugs who would know where you came from and kill you just for being born in the wrong tribe.

The palace was nice, almost peaceful. There was the clank of weapons outside. Grunts and sounds from the Agojie as they practiced. The palace was big but also felt empty. As if there weren’t a lot of people there.

The King must be fat then. Perhaps he ate all the servants and would-be brides. The bald man led you through to a chamber with many chairs. On a raised dais, there was a large throne and a smaller one beside.

“Wait here,” the man said. He twirled and disappeared down the hall. You took a step forward, looking at the displayed riches and art work. If a king was cruel, did he know anything about art? Or beauty?

“Is this necessary?” You heard mumbling and turned towards the door, ready to face the King head on. To see what kind of monster your parents have subjected you to.

A young man walked in, with thick curled hair and light facial hair. He wore robes of gold, his robe split open revealing a well defined chest. He stood in the doorway and gazed at you as you did him.

He certainly didn’t look monstrous. You knew that evil things often came in the prettiest packages, but he was beautiful. Strong. Solid.

He was still your new jailor, you mustn’t forget. So you stood there and looked him in the eye. You were not a victim and you will not be treated as such.

“What is your name?” He asked. He pressed into the room further, looking you up and down with desire in his eyes. Your parents taught you well. How to spot it in others.

You told him your name and he repeated it. As if to savor it around his tongue. He walked closer until he was within reach. Up close, he was even more handsome. You had to fight yourself from getting distracted by his looks. He was still cruel. You remembered all the horrible stories about his brother. He couldn’t be any different.

“So your father has given you away to me.”

It wasn’t a question, but you answered anyway. “He has, my King,” you said.

“Do you wish to be given away?” He asked.

You gasped and looked at him. You looked to the bald man for help but he was turned away from the two of you. You looked back towards King Ghezo. It was the first time anyone had asked what you wished. For it to come from a king who should not care what you wanted…you weren’t sure what to do with the information.

“N-No,” you said.

King Ghezo nodded. “I wish I could make it easier for you. But you are too beautiful to be Agojie and if I turn you from this palace, you will have nowhere to go.” He reached for your hand and you snatched it from him. He smiled patiently as he held out his hand to you.

He was only pretending to be nice. A stupid, hopeful part of you had thought he wasn’t like the stories. He was worse. Still, he was correct. If he turned you away, you had nowhere to go. Once you had been here, everyone would assume the King used you and not deemed you worthy. Cast you out like a whore. You would be forced to sell your body.

You took his hand. He gripped it lightly and smiled. He kissed the back of your hand. “Welcome, my Queen,” he said.

The next few days were a blur. King Ghezo’s first wife saw to your preparation for the wedding. The eunuch from earlier saw to your lessons, what was expected of you. No different than what your father had wanted from you. To be on your best behavior and only speak when spoken to.

You hadn’t seen the King since then, but you caught glimpses every now and then. You were given your own quarters and servant, someone to tend to your needs. It was odd to have someone help bathe you, but the King preferred cleanliness to all else. He was vain on top of a liar.

The feast arrived in no time and you were painted up like a doll. At the wedding, you stood there as expected. If you had smiled any harder, it would have split your face in two. You had stood there like a goat on the pasture, ready to be bought and chopped up. King Ghezo studied you, encircled you, and found you acceptable. You had been tense, near trembling. You hated every second of it.

But now you are married. You sat beside King Ghezo at the high table, while he joked and laughed with his advisors. His other wife sat on your side, quiet and dull. You pitied her. The fight had left her long ago. You were still young. There was still time for you. While everyone smiled and laughed and enjoyed the feast, you hid a knife up your sleeve. It wasn’t that sharp, but it’d do the trick when the King tried to climb in your bed tonight.

You smiled in his face and feigned an innocent routine. You waited for the casual cruelty. When he would hiss for you to shut up, eat more, eat less, sit up straight. It never came. He only gave you brief glances, each always polite. A smile on those plump lips. You couldn’t shake your resolve though. Tonight, you’d be free. Whether free in death or free in life was entirely up to him.

That night, you lay in your bed. There was a door there that led to a small balcony overlooking the rest of the kingdom. It was mostly the trees in the forest, but they were tall and mighty and more than the view you got back home. You did not spare your father a thought, but you thought of your mother. It had not been her choice to marry such a cruel man.

It had not been your choice to marry a cruel man either. However, you felt as if you had a child, you would have moved the heavens and the earth to protect it. To not let what happened to you, happen to your own daughter. You supposed that dream was gone now. You’d either die tonight and never have a kid, or face the wrath of the kingdom and bear one without your permission. Somehow death seemed kinder.

You did not want to die. But how could you live within these walls? With that monster? Admittedly, you did not hear any screams late in the night. His first wife seemed unbothered. Untouched. She had borne him his first son, so perhaps he left her alone. And perhaps goats flew over the moon.

Men were only interested in one thing from a woman. And it was not her brain.

A soft knock tore you from your musings. You tensed up, sliding your hand beneath your pillow to wrap around the handle of the knife. Maybe if you pretended to be sleep, he’d come back another night.

The door pushed open, soft feet padded inside, and the door closed again. You lay on your side, turned towards the open balcony. If you screamed, would no one come to your aid?

“Are you awake?” King Ghezo’s soft voice reached you. You didn’t answer. Your breaths were stalled in your chest. Your hand cramped from holding the knife too hard.

The King poked at your shoulder before making you roll over. “I know you are not…”

You sat up and had the knife at his throat in one fell swoop. The King’s eyes widened, but he looked at you, not the knife.

“Will you kill me, my Queen?” He asked.

You pressed the knife into his skin, hard enough to know you meant business but careful not to break the skin. You were already committing treason, but somehow, it was important not to mar the king.

He stared at you. Those deep brown eyes set in such a handsome face. You looked for the cruel man you heard about. Where was he? You could harm a cruel man. They deserved it tenfold. Why wasn’t he making this easy on you?

“I don’t want to,” you finally admitted. “I have to.”

“Why?”

What did he mean, why? “Aren’t you angry?”

“Angry at a scared woman who has no one on her side? No,” he said. He was so calm, so patient. This was at odds with everything you built up about him in your head.

“Don’t pity me,” you said. You pushed the knife in deeper.

He leaned away and held his hands up. “I do not pity you. I will not pretend to know your life. But I can promise that you’re safe here,” he said.

You scoffed. “I’m not safe anywhere,” you said. You pressed your lips together. That hadn’t been what you meant to say. You meant to throw it back on him, that he could not promise safety when he dealt in the slave trade. When he looked at his people and only saw money from white devils.

His eyes softened and he slowly smiled. “No man intact can enter this palace. Beyond that, we are protected by the fiercest warriors in the world. Beyond them, there is a first legion still to defend this palace from enemies. Here in the heart of it, you are the safest you’ve ever been.”

“But who will keep me safe from you?”

King Ghezo leaned forward, making you choose between cutting him or retreating. You eased up on the pressure. “You can do a finer job protecting yourself than most women can,” he said.

You stared at him. Your arm began to shake from holding the knife for so long. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t kill him. You were weak and would never be accepted as an Agojie. You would never fare well beyond these walls.

You dropped the knife on the bed and held out your wrists. “I’m ready for my punishment, my King,” you said.

King Ghezo let out a long breath. You noticed now that he wore a deep, royal purple that highlighted his rich, dark skin. He wore minimal jewelry. He was just that magnificent on his own. Especially when the candle light flickered across his features.

“Punishment?”

“I’ve threatened the King. I am ready for whatever punishment you hand out,” you said.

The King ignored the knife on the bed between you. It was within his right to take it and kill you. Or take it as evidence of your deceit. He could brand it for all to see as he threw you out of the palace.

He did none of those things. He reached out his hand slowly and enclosed yours in his. You stared at your hands in comparison to his. He watched you as he brought your hands to his lips and placed a small kiss there.

“Plot how next you’ll kill me. If I have not convinced you of my intentions, of my character by then, you may carry through,” he said.

“What? No, no!” You said. You pulled your hands back but he held on. He pulled you closer until your hands were pressed against his warm, smooth chest.

“Keep the knife, my Queen. This will be interesting between us,” he said.

This was surely a trap. A way for him to play and toy with you while he tightened the noose about your neck. Or gathered wood to burn you alive. Or for the Agojie to sharpen their swords to take your head with it.

“My King…”

“One day, I wish for you to call me your love,” he said. “But I will earn it or die trying.” A cocky grin spread across his face. It transformed him from a king to a man. A man who you were married to, sitting on your bed, with intentions involving you.

He placed one more kiss on your hands and then retreated from the room. He never gave you his back, but he did smile and bow. Then he was gone from your room. A chill from outside caressed your bare skin and you shivered.

Was the king truly mad? Or were you? And why did he make you want to find out which?

Masterlist | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

#Megaminds Secret Files #The Secret King Ghezo Files #Ghezo x Black!reader #Ghezo x Black reader #Ghezo x Fem!reader #Ghezo x Fem reader #Ghezo x virigin reader #x Black reader #The Woman King fanfic #The Woman King fan fic #The Woman King fanfiction #The Woman King fan fiction #The Woman King #King Ghezo x Black!reader #King Ghezo #King Ghezo fanfic #King Ghezo fan fic #black writers #Black writers on tumblr

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hard-core-super-star · 7 months

Text

a kiss to every scar [H.Steinfeld]

pairing: servicetop!hailee steinfeld x [inexperienced] bottom!reader

summary: hailee sets out to show you the ropes of acting on a tv show...unfortunately, your very obvious crush on her distracts her enough to stop being so professional.

warnings: smut -> no minors allowed [this is technically porn with plot but the plot isn't important; fingering [R receiving]; praise + petnames; needy hailee [yes, this deserves a warning]; technically public sex but not really [aka sex in hailee's trailer but she forgets to lock the door]; hailee being overly protective but also very horny; R is technically younger than hailee but the age gap isn't that important, the height gap is though :) [sorry to my tall peeps]]

wordcount: 2.4k

a/n: this request comes to you straight from our beloved 🧞‍♀️ anon! i tried to balance the fluff and the smut but well...you already know i always end up getting carried away. i TRIED, though. i'm going to make an announcement soon regarding writing hailee so stay tuned for that because it's going to be important. anywho, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

You’re no stranger to surreal experiences.

It seems like your entire life ever since being cast in your first TV role has been a series of unbelievable experiences after the other. Most of said experiences have been due to the overall excitement that comes with learning lines, going to outfit fittings, and talking through scenes with amazing directors and producers.

However, the biggest, most surreal, of all the amazing things you’ve done has been meeting, working, and getting to know Hailee Steinfeld herself. The reasons for that are endless since you’re not only a genuine fan of her but you also have a not-so-small crush on her.

A crush that has thankfully managed to pass by undetected considering your overall awe at the work you get to do every day. It’s managed to be so undetected that you haven’t noticed how mutual the admiration that flows between the two of you actually is.

You’re not totally oblivious so you have picked up on some of the looks she sends your way and on the way she’s so adamant about helping you maneuver through the many obstacles that come with being on set all day. None of that seems like anything more than her being nice since you’re so new to a life that she’s lived for so long so you’ve never questioned it.

Plus, you like the feeling of her hand on your waist way more than you’re willing to admit to anyone. (Especially her)

Which is how you ended up getting talked into staying on set to watch Hailee finish her last scene of the day. It’s not something completely uncommon since you love watching her and the director in action but the brunette promised to buy you dinner afterward, something that’s never happened before.

Your heart and mind have already made up more than enough excuses to overshadow the very clear intentions behind Hailee’s invitation but nothing can take away the pure joy you feel from being near her.

A joy that draws in the actress like nothing else.

“What’d you think?” Hailee asks as she approaches you, her face lit up by a smile you know all too well.

“You’re incredible,” you reply the same way you always do and successfully draw a little chuckle out of her. “Seriously, I don’t know how you do it.”

“Practice…and way too much free time.”

She reaches a hand out to you, an unspoken question lingering in the air between you. You waste no time in taking her hand and letting her guide you toward her trailer so she can change back into her normal clothes.

The walk is spent in the comfortable silence that always seems to follow the two of you and you pretend not to notice the way she keeps looking over at you with every few steps. You know exactly why her eyes keep shifting over to you but you can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed about it.

Despite how used to being on set you might be by now, you still admire each and every detail as if it was the first day again. Part of it comes from how unbelievable it all still is and another part of it comes from how cool everything is. There’s always so much to take in and it’s become a habit of yours to be present and grateful for every moment.

A habit that, unbeknownst to you, Hailee finds really adorable.

The list of things she likes about you is quite long but at the top of the list are your wide-eyed looks of wonder and the smile on your face nothing seems to wipe away.

It’s no secret that the brunette has taken a liking to you, especially in her attempts to make sure nothing snuffs out the bright beams of sunlight you carry inside of yourself. She knows exactly what that’s like and she’d sooner lose her role as Kate Bishop than let you fall into any dark spirals.

“So…” She speaks up, gently pulling you closer to her side. “Did anything exciting happen besides watching me?”

Your cheeks flush at her words which makes her grin. “Sort of. Florence and I talked about walking around New York tomorrow since it’s just going to be you and Jeremy filming scenes.”

“Oh, yeah? Where are you thinking of going?” She leads you into her trailer while you launch into the specifics of all the places you want to visit and the things you want to see.

The brunette watches you intently, although her attention slips from the words you say to the genuine excitement your body language conveys. You’re too busy talking to notice the way she’s eying you or the way she keeps licking her lips.

You finish your explanation only to be met with complete silence and Hailee’s tall frame leaning comfortably against the door to her trailer.

“Lee? Were you even listening?”

The tiniest of pouts tugs at your lips and the actress is quick to make her way over to you, completely forgetting about the unlocked door and her promise of taking you to dinner. “I’m sorry, baby, you’re just too cute, I got distracted.”

The “apology” makes your heart skip a couple of beats and you’re sure she notices your flustered state. “I guess that’s fine. I should probably go anyway so you can change.”

You look away from her and attempt to walk away but she stops you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. The contact makes you stiffen, not because it’s unwelcome but because it sends an overwhelming amount of feelings through your entire body. “You okay, y/n? I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”

Your eyes remain locked on the ground below you as you shake your head. The lack of a verbal response only serves to worry the brunette further and her free hand quickly tilts your chin up until her warm eyes meet yours.

She doesn’t say anything but the question on her face is obvious.

“I’m not uncomfortable,” you force yourself to answer. “I just…I think I like it too much.”

The concern in her eyes shifts to something else, something bordering on passion, but you’re far too embarrassed to question it. “Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to be nervous. I like you too.”

The words don’t fully register in your brain at first. Sure, you’ve lived through a lot of unbelievable moments but this is something right out of those dreams you can never tell a single soul about.

“You…you what?”

Hailee chuckles, taking the smallest of steps forward so your bodies are practically touching. “I like you too, baby. I hate to break it to you but you’re not as subtle as you think.”

“Neither are you,” you blurt out.

She leans in a little and your eyes instantly drop down to her lips. “I know.”

Her whispered words are the only warning you have before she claims your mouth with her own. Whatever shock you feel fades away almost instantly and you can’t stop yourself from wrapping your arms around her and pulling her closer.

You’re so caught up in her kiss that you don’t fully register the way she gently pushes you up against the nearest wall and presses herself as close to you as physically possible. You don’t register anything besides the feeling of her lips and the way your hands tangle in her hair so easily.

Hailee’s not as zoned out as you are, though, and her ears pick up on the muffled sounds trying to escape you. She instantly pulls away from you, staring down at you with blown-out pupils. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you reply breathlessly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Your response doesn’t seem to convince her but at least she doesn’t notice the way you’re clenching your thighs together. “We can stop if you want, I’m not looking for a one-night stand or anything.”

The sincerity in her voice is almost too much to handle and the truth slips out of your lips before you can stop it. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

She blinks a few times and you practically watch as the wheels turn inside her brain. “You’ve never…oh. Oh, wow.”

Her response isn’t bad but it leaves you flustered all the same so you lean forward and hide your face in her shoulder. “Hailee…”

“Hey, hey, look at me, baby.”

A few seconds pass before you follow her instructions and she instantly melts your worries away with a soft kiss. “You don’t have to be embarrassed. It’s cute.”

“It’s cute that I have no idea what I’m doing?” You question.

“Yeah, it just means I’ll have to show you. I mean, um…if you want, of course. There’s no rush.”

All you can do is stare up at her while you think things over. There’s no denying how nervous you are but you trust Hailee more than anyone you’ve ever met before. So, maybe it’s time to take a small leap of faith with her.

“Okay,” you whisper. “I want this. I want you.”

The brunette groans in response and the sound goes straight to the growing heat between your legs. She wastes no time in attaching herself to your neck, kissing and sucking every inch she can find.

The sensation is so pleasurable, it borders on overwhelming and your hands grip her shoulders in search of the stability you lost the day you met her.

“You're so pretty,” she murmurs against your skin. “You don't know how long I’ve wanted you for.”

“Hailee-” You gasp as her hands find their way under your shirt.

“I know, let me make you feel good, sweetheart. Can I?”

The answer is more than obvious but you find yourself nodding desperately anyway. You know deep down everything about what you're doing is desperate and yet you can't find it in yourself to want to stop. Maybe it's unconventional but you don't need anything more than the brunette to make your first time unforgettable.

Hailee detaches herself from you long enough to help you shed your shirt, her eyes swooping down to take in every inch of you. Your knees buckle under her gaze and all she does is grin. “You're fucking perfect, baby.”

The words themselves are enough to make you burn a few degrees hotter but then her hands are removing your bra and you're quickly standing topless in front of her appreciative eyes.

Her fingers soon follow the path her eyes trace and you shudder in ways you can't describe. Her thumbs gently rub against your nipples, your back arching almost instantly as you turn into putty in her hands.

“Does that feel good, darling?” All you can offer is a moan and she chuckles. “Gonna need some words.”

“Yes. Feels so fucking good.”

“There you go,” she murmurs, swooping in to litter kisses along your jawline. “Good girl.”

She pinches your nipples right as the words escape her lips and you're sure you almost pass out from the pleasure. “Oh- please.”

“Begging already?” Despite her question, one of her hands leaves your sensitive nipples to trail down the front of your body. “Do you think you're wet enough for me to touch you yet?”

You hum in response and attempt to keep your hips under control. “So wet for you.”

“Look at you,” she coos while her hand slips under the waistband of both your jeans and your underwear. “You’re already an expert at getting what you want from me.”

“Lee,” you whine. “Don’t tease, babe.”

“I’m sorry, you're just so cute like this.” She rests her forehead against yours, everything about her seemingly cool and collected while you're burning up and panting. “We’ll take it slow, okay? Tell me if it hurts too much.”

Your inexperience leaves you a little clueless…until she starts to slip one finger inside your tight cunt. You gasp almost instantly, your body tensing at the intrusion.

“Relax, baby. I've got you.”

It's hard to fully relax but Hailee does her best to keep you distracted by murmuring soft praises and keeping up her gentle touches to your breasts. The full length of her finger sinks inside and she gives you a moment to breathe and adjust.

“How’re you feeling?” She asks, warm eyes searching your face for signs of unease or pain.

“Full,” you mumble with a smile.

She lets out a sound somewhere between a moan and a whine. “Fuck. That's so hot.”

The brunette leans in to kiss you before you can reply and you happily melt into the contact. You don't realize it’s yet another loving distraction until she starts to slowly pump her finger in and out of you.

You moan against her lips, the sound coming out muffled but no less desperate. Your walls clench almost uncontrollably with every move she makes which only fuels her need to pleasure you.

“You're doing so well for me,” she mumbles. “Taking me so well, aren't you, baby?”

Her words cause an unfamiliar feeling to start to rise from deep within you that only gets stronger once her thumb finds your sensitive clit. Your hips buck into her hand and she ends up burying her face into your neck to stop herself from getting too wild.

She somehow manages to keep her slow pace, fucking you nice and gentle to build up your orgasm and prolong your pleasure. At the end of the day, all she wants is to keep you happy.

“You’re so close, aren't you, sweetheart? I can feel it, the way you can’t stop clenching around me. God, it makes me so wet.”

You don't know what triggers it, maybe it's her words or her thrusts or the tight circles around your clit, but you fall over the edge instantly with a cry so loud, she has to kiss you to drown it out.

It’s impossible to describe how you feel. It's like you're floating and underwater and in the heart of the sun all at the same time. All you know is you've never felt pleasure like this and it's all thanks to Hailee freaking Steinfeld.

Hailee holds you close until your body stops shaking and you slump forward into her. “Hey, welcome back, y/n.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, every muscle in your body feeling absolutely spent yet satisfied.

She doesn't reply. She merely removes her hand from your sensitive center and kisses the side of your head.

“So…are you still up for dinner or…?”

“You're the worst.”

#hailee steinfeld x reader #hailee steinfeld x female reader #hailee steinfeld x you #hailee steinfeld x y/n #hailee steinfeld fic #hailee steinfeld smut #hailee steinfeld imagine #hailee steinfeld fanfiction #hailee steinfeld #hawkeye #mcu #mcu fanfiction #marvel #wlw #wlw fic #writing

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chemzee · 11 months

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Alright! Tier list of how likely are hpma characters of becoming dateable ( if we ever get the romance option)

Ok so here´s the list in question and my absolutely undenyable scientific reasonings behind each placement. ( /j, I understand my logic ain´t perfect so feel free to disagree)

IT´S GONNA BE VERY LONG SO BEWARE

Very likely tier

aka these characters are pretty much guaranteed to become an option or at least have a really high chance (85-100%)

Daniel: I think this one is like,,,out of question lmao. It´s pretty obvious that if you could date somebody in this game, he would be an option. First and foremost, he´s the only male companion available in the game rn, making him the most fitting male character for this role and you can´t make a romance option with no boys like cmon. Second, he´s one of the most prominent characters in a storyline and is pretty much considered to be one of mc´s closest friends along with Ivy and y´know how it goes. Also, we can take into consideration the "favoritism advantage", as in it´s pretty obvious he along with Cass is the most beloved character by the fandom and I believe it is something you as a dev should take into consideration when making a romance option.

Ivy: pretty much many of the same logic used for Daniel is applied here. She´s tecnically our first friend in the game, she´s one of mc´s closest friends and she is one of the more prominent characters in the story (she, mc and Daniel are at this point the "main trio" of the game), making her the most likely female character to be available as an option. I would say she doesn´t have a really strong "favoritism advantage" as there are less fans liking her than Daniel and Cassandra, but there are some people who seem to like and favor her and tbh I feel like it wouldn´t really affect the decision behind making her an option.

Cassandra: as much as she is supposed to be our "rival" in the game, first of all, Merula from HPHM exists. Second, we still have like, 5 more years (well, 4 tecnically, but you get the point), so there could be a possible chance of her either redeeming herself to some degree or just becoming less antagonistic towards mc. And it´s not like she hates the mc either, I feel like she actually kinda enjoys their company, just has troubles admitting her liking to us. Plus it´s not like dating a "rival character" is something new. But even if we forget about the whole "she´s supposed to be our rival" shtick, she is just a really good option for the romance. AS MUCH AS I HATE GOING OFF VIBES, she really does give of the dateable vibe, sorry. Not to mention the "favoritism advantage" not only from the fans but the developers as well. I would say that given everything, she most likely would be a lot harder to rizz up than Daniel and Ivy, in a sense that it would probably be more time consuming to get her to date us, but I feel like it would be a rather rewarding in the end of a day.

Pretty likely

aka there´s a possibility they won´t be available as an option, but given everything they have a high chance of actually being one (60-84%)

Lottie: I feel like out of the rest of the cast we have, Lottie is the most likely to be dateable, although she´s only availbale as a dancing companion at this moment (hope they fix that fr). The chances are a lot less than the three characters from above, with her not being a very prominent character in the story besides Year 2 and her not having a lot of fans but I feel like she does have a certain probability of being chosen for the role, especially since the more option there are the better. Right??? (she deserves more love btw)

Uhh

aka I have no idea at this point, it really depends (50%)

Colby and Fischer aka Frey twins: I´m gonna be real with you, when I first made this tier list, I had put them in a "unlikely" tier, below Kevin and Robyn, because I felt like given everything the chances were very low. They are not available as companions, they are highly implied to have some of crush on Cassandra and they don´t have a strong "favoritism advantage" even from the devs themselves (this mostly applies to japanese and korean twitter accounts for the game, which "forgot" to post their character cards (you probably know which ones I´m talking about) which contained character description, concept art and voice actors listed (as I do know that along with character from "very likely" tier they were the only ones who had their character description uploaded to the official site, at least in english,so perhaps this point is sorta weak in that regard). But the more I though about it, the more I realised they do have certain probability. Or shall I say, one of them. Yes, I feel like there´s a chance that we could potentially date one of the twins,as in only one of them. Which one is most likely to be dateable? At this point I have no idea, but my bet´s on Colby. That being said, the only possible logical explanation I could give is "we need more than one male option available" and Kevin isn´t likely to be one, so the Freys, especially Colby are the most likely contendants for it. But other than that, it´s just a vibe and gut feeling thing, which is not a very good argument material.

Most likely not

aka the chances are below 50%. It´s not completely out of the question, but I´d say the chances are very low albeit not non existent.

Robyn: in spite of her being a companion character for every game mode except dancing and having certain favoritism advantage, let´s be real here, the affection system behind her is probably only designed to buff her specific character desks. But yeah, girl´s got a crush on Kevin, pretty obvious one at that, so she probably won´t be a dating option. Also a gut feeling moment, I feel like at some point in the story Robyn and Kevin will date eventually, but again, it is a gut feeling, so it´s not an argument material, but yeah.

Kevin: same logic as behind Robyn except he´s not even a companion character so the chances are even lower kfdvjhkfdvjkhl

and that´s the list and my reasons behind each placement

IF YOU REACHED IT THIS FAR THANK U SM FOR READING THIS LIKE FOR REAL YOU GUYS R AWESOME FOR MANAGING TO READ ALL OF THIS!!!

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basmathgirl · 1 month

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I feel bad for Donna that she is stuck with the sad old weasel version of the Doctor. The way she looked at Fifteen!!! Overall Fifteen is probably the most conventionally attractive, the most outright sexy and fit Doctor (ever?). Not saying the others weren’t attractive at all, but back then they portrayed the Doctor more in the nerdy/ geeky-attractive kinda way. I think considering Fifteen’s charm, charisma, humour and looks, after his run he might end up as “The Sexy Doctor”. I know Donna would agree. In general the new TARDIS-Team with Millie Gibson, Varada Sethu and of course Ncuti Gatwa is ridiculously good looking. I guess New New Who doesn’t allow “ugly”/ normal looking people any longer. 😂

Hello kind Anon

I get the feeling that you are a great deal younger than I am (and rather ageist), because I know the "sad old weasel version of the Doctor"

will be only a temporary situation. Soon, he'll be back to his cheerful, pre-bigeneration self. Look at how delighted he was to be reuninited with Donna

And Donna doesn't seem to mind at all with being 'stuck' with him.

especially when her old best friend ocassionally looks at her like this:

Even the Not-Thing!Doctor knew how he felt about her.

I totally agree that the Fifteenth Doctor is a very attractive man/being. His good looks, kindness, intelligence and charm won us all over instantly upon his emergence.

Oh yes, he knows what he's doing to us.

But as for "the most outright sexy and fit Doctor (ever?)" well... I was around for the anouncement of Peter Davison as the Fifth Doctor; and Paul McGann as the Eighth Doctor. Both were generally considered very fine specimens of manhood, back in the day! And truth be told, I still get a thrill out of seeing them in anything. Sexiness is a matter of personal taste, after all. Plus, while I appreciate Ncuti Gatwa visually (among other things), I feel he is rather too young for me. I'm more likely to pat his cheek and try to feed him up.

Grandmothers, eh?! What are we like.

We've only had one episode of RTD's latest Season 1 run (if we ignore the 60th anniversary specials) so as far as "I guess New New Who doesn’t allow “ugly”/ normal looking people any longer. 😂" is concerned, it's a bit hard to tell how influential the move to Disney+ has over the general casting. Especially when you try to dodge any spoilers. Not that Moffat was immune to casting based on looks rather than talent, but I am expecting to see more conventially attractive people to appear in the coming episodes.

Of course, I'm hoping that the old trend of hiring decent actors rather than model/actors will be maintained, but you never know how that extra streaming coinage will be. The casting of attractive companions like Millie Gibson and Varada Sethu was no surprise at all. *mentally beats the 'something for the dads' thinking to a pulp* In fact, it's refreshing when that doesn't happen.

Personally, I want RTD to create those DW spinoffs he jokingly referred to when the Disney+ announcement was made. Those tend to be pretty good and/or interesting.

In conclusion, while I really love the new, Fifteenth Doctor and look forward to seeing his adventures.

Donna certainly appreciated his physique and good looks, but I could never turn my back on the Fourteenth Doctor. I mean... Just look at him

He needs our special love. Especially because he loves and adores Donna. In the way she deserves to be.

#kind Anon #Fourteenth Doctor #Fifteenth Doctor #Doctor x Donna #we all get old #the only way to stay young #is to be frozen #or pickled in a jar #hmm #either way you'd become something hard to love

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ladymelisande · 9 months

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My problem with this implication that Crowley is the Selfish One™ for panicking and wanting to run instead of going with Aziraphale to Heaven and Aziraphale being a supposed saint that wants to save humanity (or fix Heaven just for love of Crowley, which is quite reductive and I will to that in a minute) is that it just acts as ir Aziraphale knew that the Second Coming was happening all along (which he didn't) and that once again just ignores that 1) he was pretty excited at the idea of coming back there, 2) that he did imply he misses reporting to Heaven AKA he is struggling to be part of The Company™ - Michael Sheen also mentioned this before the season started - and 3) Aziraphale was spiraling and in denial of the situations happening around him all season.

There are some points I disagree with so much and they are just... Not in the show?

'That Aziraphale didn't know that Heaven tried to kill him.' Yes, he did, he didn't know the whole dialogue word for word, but Crowley says in the first episode that Gabriel tried to cast him into hellfire.

'That Heaven has good angels and that's why Aziraphale was doing the right thing by going.' Okay, I hate this point with passion. Heaven having nice, innocent angels like Muriel doesn't make it less of a cult/totalitarian environment/dystopia/you pick your metaphor. Just because some angels are good doesn't mean the system is not broken. In any case, those angels deserve to get the fuck out too.

Crowley can't let go of his hate of Heaven and that's bad for some reason. This point is so... victim blamy. Why in the hell should Crowley feel anything but hate for Heaven or God by the matter? Huh?!

The point that argues that Aziraphale only wanted to go back to Heaven because of Crowley and to keep him safe deserves a paragraph of his own because I think it's such a 'reduce into shipping' reading. Aziraphale has been struggling with letting go of Heaven, he hasn't been eating, he is playing humans like fiddles during that ball and denying the danger around him, he accepted Gabriel in his home when anyone with some self-preservation would have thrown him out of in the street. All of this, plus his line in Season 1 when he still hesitated about 'his side' not liking him staying with Crowley, all of this is a build up that goes up to the moment where he presents Metatron's offer to Crowley.

Because as much as I ship them and I do think Crowley going was a mayor factor on making him accept, I don't think it's only about Crowley, it's about Aziraphale's inability to let go of his perception of Heaven as the side of goodness.

Crowley going back to Heaven is how Aziraphale thinks he can have his cake and eat it. Crowley is safe from Hell (because he thinks in terms of Hell being more harmful to Crowley than Heaven) and Aziraphale gets to 'fix' Heaven and never, ever confront the fact that Heaven is not the side of good, most importantly, never confront the fact that God is not a force of good.

Aziraphale's acceptance of the offer is not just doing Good and Save Earth™ (because remember he didn't know about the Second Coming when he accepted), it's him regressing (in the psychological term, not in the character term) and not wanting to accept real change, which sort of goes with his character being the sort of slow and frozen previous eras (contrasting with Crowley 'going too fast'). It's the same thing with him just believing Crowley is a good person because he is fundamentally an angel Deep Down™, and not because he developed his own moral compass.

Like, I'm sorry, but I don't think him accepting that offer had anything to do with some super mega selfless impulse to save Earth. He doesn't mention Earth in his whole speech. He goes around how Heaven is 'the side of truth, of light, of good' and he looks at Crowley confused as if he doesn't get why Crowley wouldn't want to go back to The Side of Truth, Light and Good™. I don't see Earth and humans mentioned there. It's not about them and deep down is not even about Crowley.

It's about Aziraphale and Heaven. It's about how he, as much as he loves Crowley, he still wants Heaven, he still wants their praise, he wants to be needed by them and how he can't and (in that moment) doesn't want to accept what they truly are.

This is why he will fail in Season 3. There won't be growth if he suddenly manages to change an unchangeable system. He needs to fail, he needs to have this view of them and God broken or he will never grow out of it.

#go ahead call me a hater now 🙄#aziraphale #good omens meta #good omens #I swear this relationship therapy speech rubbish applying to fictional characters is just ruining storytelling #fandom always wants to twist situations in 'they are both wrong'#because weirdly they think that if only one of the characters are wrong then that character... Becomes an abuser I guess?#because that's totally how it works I guess!#one person can't be wrong in a relationship ever #it's has to be the two of them exactly in the same level or the relationship is Doomed™#but even then is not about that is about character progression

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hazshit-hotel-hater · 2 months

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Vaggie Redesign! (1/7)

Welcome to my new quest of redesigning the entire main 7 Hazbin cast! First on the chopping block is Vaggie who I will be addressing as Evangeline/Van for the rest of this post.

I’ve designed a good 100+ characters in my lifetime so I think I can manage a decent moth lady.

First thing, she was supposed to be a moth. Why not keep her as a moth. Vivziepop is a coward. Second but much more important, she is not grey anymore!!!!! All colours I used were picked from this wonderful little Gaudy Sphinx moth so everyone thank you Gaudy Sphinx moth!

For her scars, she didn’t have nearly enough to begin with. What even is this.

She deserves som recognition for yknow. Killing people. And yes I know she has that whole thing where she thought Angel’s couldn’t be injured but these are from Lute when her eye got ripped out so! Checkmate. The X is supposed to resemble Lute marking her for death so sinners could notice it and then probably torture Van because betrayal yknow. The scar colours and placement on her neck are supposed to resemble angel blood and also the swoopy things exorcists have on their necks but imagine they got more like. Burnt into her skin. Also it’s not immediately recognizable as angel marks cause theyre moth colours anyway!

Her hair looking like wings was a cool idea though I’ll give them that. Obviously she can’t fly with her hair but it’s the silhouette that counts. Oh and her short hair was cuter so I just mixed them

Also her colours were ugly!! I love myself a good black and red—i mean who doesn’t—but we know of hazbins little addiction to that colour palette and why would I use just black and red when I can divulge into insanity and refrence @bluehazardanonymous’s colour wheel again!!!!!!!!

YAAAAAYYY!!!!!! I think the greenish red suits her a lot with her protective nature and honestly probably a little bit of envy from heaven stuff. Justified of course because genuine why is heaven like that. Also the reds are definitely red but theyre a little subdued so she doesn’t come off as incredibly angry and all that. Plus red can look very elegant and I think she deserves that. As for her dress I tried to keep it inspired based off the traditional dress of El Salvador while still using colours picked from the moth.

I also really wanted to include the lace from these dresses because it is genuinely beautiful but unfortunately my lace pattern was too big and got smushed when I tried to use it so the most I can do is show it of separately😞

The blue also is a much cooler colour of course so it gives that little bit of approachability to her character. I am latino and I think I can safely say for every other latino/latina person the spicy latino character archetype is stupid and she needs more depth than that. Give us more Charlie and Van being sweet and having Charlie pull her weight instead of just standing off to the side crying all the time.

Hopefully you all enjoy the new design, I am working on a certain ssomebody next 🐍 and I intend to get it out soon (hopefully)

I am not Salvadoran and I am not super familiar with the culture there so if I messed up anything with her dress and whatnot please don’t be afraid to call me out on it so I can improve in the future. Thank you!

#hazbin hotel #hazbin vaggie #hazbin vagatha #hazbin hotel vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #vaggie #hazbin critical #hazbin hotel criticism #hazbin hotel critical #anti vivziepop #anti hazbin hotel #my art #hazbin hotel rework #hazbin hotel rewrite #hazbin hotel redesign #vaggie redesign #hazbin redesign #hazbin rewrite

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shankss-magnificent-ass · 9 months

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I would love to have a King x reader (female reader if you are ok with that) where the reader is a mythical zoan type very similar to Kaido’s mythical zoan but because it was a fruit made by Dr Vegaounk, the reader ends up with a dark green dragon instead. King’s just infatuated with the reader and the reader knows it but won’t say anything. The reader is fairly new to the Beast Pirates and Kaido puts King in charge of making the reader feel welcome. Thanks in advance if you are able to do this!!

Imagine having a dragon smile fruit

This led me down an interesting line of thought. How would King act around his crush. He's a deeply traumatized individual, but he hides it well. King has like zero emotional intelligence, he never learned how to really deal with them. Also, I'm making the reader around the same size as King for reasons.

This ended up being kinda long.

Kaido: I'm told you have a devil fruit.

You: it's a smile fruit, sir, Dr. Vegapunk made it for me.

Kaido: Vegapunk *casts a glance at king, but can't see his emotions due to that damn mask* when did he make it for you?

You: a few years back upon my request, he owed me a favor.

Kaido: may I see?

You: we'll need to go outside, I would hate to destroy your lovely house.

Kaido: Ookay?

Outside

You: *transforms into a large emerald green dragon with pitch black fur, talons, and horns.*

Kaido: Worororo, we're gonna be unstoppable!

King: ( 💖0💖 ) !!

You: So I can get settled in?

Kaido: yes, Queen! Get their rooms ready, put them in the east wind of my castle.

You: absolutely not, I refuse to work with Queen, he's annoying.

Queen: EHH! Annoying! Who are you calling an idiot, you moron. You wanna go! *Starts to climb up on one of the coils of your body*

You: *flicks him off* And loud.

Queen: *skips like a rock over the ocean towards mainland Wano and disappears with a twinkle*

Kaido: Would you prefer Jack?

You: Jack is too unpredictable, plus I'm not a fan of the baby bangs he's sporting, they make me wanna bully him. King seems tolerable though, he's quiet which is preferable if I have to deal with a man.

King: 😱💢

Kaido: Very well, wouldn't want you to lose your temper and kill one of them. I need all three of them... well actually with you here, I might not.

You: I don't want a position of responsibility, those usually come with a lot of paperwork. I want money, food, a place to crash, and to fight, and when I’m not doing any of those to lounge in comfort.

Kaido: and you shall have anything you desire. King take them to the Black Tortoise wing.

King: I think they'd appreciate the views and quiet of the Blue Halls in the Vermilion Bird wing. You yourself once told me your dragon enjoys the open sky.

Kaido: how thoughtful King, to share your Vermilion Bird wing with our new recruit.

King: such a valuable member of the crew deserves the best we have to offer, especially one with a power so similar to your own.

Kaido: then can I trust them to you?

King: Of course.

The next day

King: how are you liking the Blue hall? Is it to your liking?

You: It's almost perfect, it just needs some personal touches.

King: I'll set up an appointment for our artisans to come over to receive instructions on what you want.

You: don't you have an assistant for that?

King: no? Are you volunteering?

You: hmm, only when I'm bored.

King: very well, in the meantime care to join me for a training session in the gym? *Hoping to show off his strength and physique for you*

You: Sure, let me change into something more breathable.

At the gym

King: would you spot me?

You: sure?

King: *lifting way more weight than he usually does while trying to keep his face as neutral as possible.*

You: *not sure how you'd be of any help to him if he actually needed help*

Queen: *leans over to Jack to shit talk* is it me, or is that feather-brained idiot trying to impress the newbie?

Jack: Yeah, he's even puffing up his wings and fire to make himself appear bigger.

Maria: right? And you you see the way he looks at them.

Queen: he's clearly displacing his affections for Kaido on them, probably they're more attainable to him than Kaido.

Kaido: *leans in* he's just not my type what can I say? Although, he does have those big titties like I like.

You: I'm gonna go get a water bottle, you want one?

King: sure *waits for you to leave before turning to his crew members* what the fuck are you jack asses whispering about over there?

Queen: You like (y/n) right?

King: what? No, they just got here, I don't even know them.

Kaido: she doth protest too much, methinks.

King: ugh, you all are seeing things.

Maria: yeah, we see you making bedroom eyes at (y/n).

Queen: Don't act like you're not, look at yourself, you're all puffed up like you're a horny teenager all over again.

King: *flattens his feathers* shut up dickhead.

You: *comes back in the room* I got us a few waters!

King: *puffs up again and realizes they're right.

Yamato: *peaking out from one of the floorboards* that explain why he wanted them in the Vermilion Bird wing with him.

King: *Puts his foot on the board and pushes it down*

That evening after dinner

Kaido: did we really upset you earlier? You seem like you're still... huffy like you were in the gym.

King: I'm disgusted with myself for being attracted to a human.

Kaido: *nods his head empathetically* I know the feeling bud. From what information that I have gathered about them, they seem like a decent human. They were once instrumental in the escape of a slave rebellion in the Ballywood Kingdom and Vodka Kingdom. Both of which were predominately composed of non-humans.

King: really?

Jack: yeah, they came to us through a recommendation of one of contacts in the Ryugu Kingdom.

You: wha'cha talking about?

King: *puffs up and feels his embarrassment and panic well up in his chest* Nothing!

You: *squints at him in suspicion* Really? Because I don't believe you.

King: Are you calling me a liar?

You: I ain't callin' you a truther, big man. Now spill the beans, what were y'all whispering about?

King: *his heart flutters happily when you call him 'big man' * Kaido told us you helped in some slave rebellions.

You: Oh yeah, I have quite a few tales from that time of my life.

King: If we're going to work together we should know more about you. So if you wouldn't mind, could you tell us those stories?

Kaido: *subtly gives him an encouraging slap on the back and a wink*

Queen: *whispers* fuckin' simp!

King: *makes Queen's cigar erupt in fire*

List of Up-and-coming works

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shuttershocky · 4 months

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The reason there's no DMC6 yet is because the only playable character is gonna Lady so they need to figure out her moveset so its perfect. I'm not coping of course not.

This is going to be blasphemy and sacrilege to say (on the same level as "DMC2 isn't unplayable" which I DO NOT ACTUALLY THINK BTW) but I think we're more than ready to get a Devil May Cry game without Dante. From how badly the girls got sidelined in 5 while teasing a Lady and Trish adventure that we never got, they deserve at least a full game.

Shit, make it a whole girl's night. Bring Lucia back and put her in an actually playable game. Expand Lady's moveset and so she's not just Gunslinger-only but DMC3-strength Gunslinger+++, she's called the walking arsenal for god's sake, give her twice the guns Dante has. Trish doesn't have the demon sword Sparda anymore so have Nico fashion up a big sci-fi scythe for her. V's summoner playstyle was undercooked in 5 and deserves a second chance but V himself can't be reused? Well it turns out Patty's a big girl now and she's the descendant of an incredibly powerful demon summoner so... Make her inherit V's playstyle (just replace the demons since they can't be DMC1 enemies anymore) but have actual attack and movement options for the summoner beyond just Royal Fork so Patty can fight and actually style on enemies, while adding more of the summoner-summon interactions that made V actually pretty cool like the ability to walk on Shadow's skewer or ride on Nightmare to force Domination.

And because gamers are going to cry if there's not a single man in the playable cast, Nero's still on Earth, except he now has both robot limbs and devil limbs, which made DMC5 Nero on new game plus play like a goddamn dream. Dante even officially left Nero in charge of Devil May Cry while he's in hell, so just have Nero in the office surrounded by all the girls. Everyone around's gonna think he's a debonair lady's man when he's actually a married guy surrounded by women his very poor uncle owes money to.

Besides, I think there's a lot of fun potential in Nero and Patty meeting each other. Both of them were orphans that eventually had run-ins with Dante, and Patty even posed as Dante's daughter while they traveled, making Patty the closest thing Nero can have to a weird cousin. They're even opposites in attitudes, with Nero being an unrefined gorilla (Nico herself can't explain how Kyrie fell for him) while 8 year old Patty was a pink balloons, flowers, plushies, and sundaes girl that probably stayed just as girly even when she grew into an adult. They would not work well together. Kyrie would love her though.

And fine of course Dante wouldn't actually get skipped over, it's just that being tied to Vergil means he's gotta play by Vergil's rules. This means the inevitable DMC6 Special Edition comes with both Vergil and Dante in a special mini campaign in hell on their mission to prune the underworld's biggest plant with the tiniest possible garden shears, the Yamato and the Devil Sword Dante. Maybe they piss off Mundus with their lawnmowing and that's what causes Mundus to launch an invasion on Earth, causing the events of the main story.

#Devil May Cry

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harringtown · 2 years

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get the darkness to dance

requested by anonymous

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie has a nightmare & reader comforts him (aka some angst, some fluff, and a touch starved eddie getting the affection he Deserves)

word count: 2.4k

Eddie hasn’t slept through the night in two months. Technically, since he crawled back through the hole in his old trailer’s roof, covered in bite marks and on death’s door.

A transfusion or two, more stitches than he can count and a hefty rabies vaccine later, he was discharged from the hospital and taken straight to the police station in cuffs. If it weren’t for Jim Hopper, making his miraculous return from the dead, Eddie would be rotting in a cell by now.

He could have it worse. Max is still comatose at the hospital. Dozens upon dozens of Hawkins residents—who hated him, sure, and only partially for fake reasons—didn’t survive what was now being called the biggest earthquake of the century. Even if all those people hated him, no one deserved to die like that.

A little, or a lot, of insomnia and some healing wounds are nothing he can’t handle. He’s survived worse.

So, when he gets a call from you in the middle of the night during a vicious storm, and you tell him your power is out, your parents are in Indianapolis for the weekend, and ask to come over, he says yes. Because maybe another body in the house when he tries to sleep will trick his mind into it. Because, if he’s being honest, there are very few things in this world that make him feel better, and you’re one of them.

Because he’s tired, and in the months since he met you, he hasn’t been able to say no to you.

He’d never admit it, but in some ways, the end of the world is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. It brought you crashing into his life, literally—when he put a gun to Steve Harrington’s chin in the boathouse, you tackled him into a wobbly kayak. That was that. Eddie Munson became every lovestruck stereotype he spent his life making fun of.

And sure, the Upside Down and all its chaos put him squarely at the top of Hawkins most wanted list and almost put him in a grave, but not everything can be perfect. Eddie knows that better than most.

This, though—you, stretched out on the pullout couch in the living room, head on a pillow from his bed—is pretty damn close to perfect. Eddie is trying very hard not to ruin it.

“Need any more blankets? The trailer may be new, but the heater is not—”

“For the fourth time,” you say, but you’re smiling, “I’m warm enough.”

Eddie holds up his hands in surrender. “If you’re bullshitting, it’s your frostbite.” He waggles his brows once. “However. It’d be a damn shame to come out and find you a pile of fingers and toes on my couch.”

“Plus, you’ve already got a record,” you say, and if it were anyone else, it would make him angry, but because it’s you, he just laughs. Because with most people, the jokes are jibes, and with you, they’re genuinely that. Jokes.

“Like they need any more excuses to drag my sorry ass back into that police station.”

You roll your eyes and drag your blanket bundle up over your chest, settling back into the couch.

Eddie opens his mouth to speak, but before he gets the chance, you interrupt him.

“And also for the fourth time, no, I’m not taking your bed, so don’t even ask.”

Eddie huffs and waves a hand.

“Screw me for being a gentleman, eh?”

“You wish,” you say, and Eddie snorts.

“Next time you call me in the middle of the night, begging for my company, I’m going to remember this.”

“I don’t know about begging—”

“Oh, it was begging,” he says.

“Ridiculous,” you say with a smile, and Eddie grins, too. He flips off the overhead light, and the small yellow lamp from the old trailer casts a warm yellow glow over the room.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he says, and turns for the hall.

“Eddie,” you say, and Eddie swears his heart does one of those cartoon flip-flops right inside his chest. He stops, turns to face you.

You gnaw on the inside of your cheek for a beat before saying, gently, “Thank you.”

Eddie swallows the lump in his throat. He nods a few too many times.

“‘Course,” he says. “Anytime.” And he surprises himself by meaning it.

The dreams come in varying shades and flavors, some of which are so creative that Eddie is impressed by his own twisted subconscious. Most of them, he’s learned to see through. Nightmares, dreams altogether, have tells. Find a clock, and if he can’t read the numbers, he’s asleep. Look at his hands, and if he has too few or too many fingers, he’s dreaming. If his mother makes an appearance, it’s either a dream or he’s managed to squeeze his way to heaven. Which, unlikely, so: dream.

The one he still can’t see through is the one that’s still too close to reality. Eddie, bleeding out through more puncture wounds than he can count, watching his measly life roll behind his eyes, trying in vain to claw his way back to the world.

He can feel the broken earth beneath him and the claws dragging him back, and when he tries to scream, his throat is raw. He can’t make a noise, can’t save himself, can’t do anything but lie here as they tear him apart—

“Wake up, Munson.”

Hands on his shoulders, but not rough, not sharp. Steady.

“It’s a dream. It’s just a dream. It’s not real.”

His eyes snap open and he jerks up, finding himself in his dark bedroom. You kneel on the edge of the mattress, hands still on his arms, though now your fingers are curled in the fabric of his sleeves. Your knuckles graze his biceps each time he heaves a breath.

An image flickers behind his eyelids; bright red lightning flashes and spindly wings and—

“Look at me, Eddie.” That sound, his name off your lips, winds the last thread of consciousness into place, he realizes where he is, what’s happening.

Eddie pushes back until he hits the wall, as far out of your grasp as possible. Like each inch will keep you safer from him and the powder keg that is his life. That is him.

He has heard it all, a thousand times, from a hundred different people.

Too loud. Too opinionated. Too distractable. Too distracting. Too much.

His father. Teachers. His grandparents. Everyone except his uncle, and after these last months, he’s sure even that is bound to break.

“Eddie—"

“Sorry,” he says. “I wake you up?” He cards a hand through his hair, and when his fingers get caught in the tangles, he wrenches for a moment before just giving up.

Your brows furrow. “Are you, like, going to pretend that didn’t just happen?”

Abso-fucking-lutely, and he’d appreciate it if you went along with that plan. He knows you won’t.

“And what happened, exactly?”

“You were screaming.”

Eddie’s stomach lurches.

“Fear isn’t the only thing that makes people scream, you know,” he says. “Surely someone’s taught you that by now.”

Even the darkness of the room can’t hide the dark flush on your neck, at the tops of your cheeks and ears. But to his frustration, you don’t take the bait and steer the conversation into safer waters.

You frown for a long moment. So long Eddie is sure you’re cooking up some kind of lecture. And then you climb all the way onto the bed, dropping down beside him and effectively trapping him. He hasn't decided if he minds, yet. Most of his actual mind is still stuck in a nightmare.

“Eddie,” you say.

Eddie doesn’t think anyone has ever said his name like that before—like it’s not a bullet.

“Look at me,” you say, and he does. And no one has ever looked at him like this, either.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask.

“Not really,” he says.

You nod. Your brow twitches, and you lift a hand to settle on his face. Your thumb traces along his cheekbone, and something cracks open inside of him.

He doesn’t say anything—maybe you see it in his face. You wrap your arms around him and pull him close as he shakes. Breaks. He slips his arms around your waist and buries his face in your neck, and he doesn’t realize he’s crying until it’s too late to stop it.

But all he can think about is being small, in a little brick house, curled up on the couch with his mom. These days, he can’t remember the exact shade of her eyes, or the sound of her laugh, but he remembers her dark curls tickling his cheeks as she peppered kisses across his face. He remembers laughing until his stomach ached. The first time someone loved him—not the way his uncle loves him, or the way his friends do, but really, truly, loved him.

Until now, he wondered if it would be the last.

Something like a sob worms its way up Eddie’s throat, and he swallows it down, hard. He pulls back suddenly, swiping his hands over his eyes and inhaling sharply. He clears his throat.

“Christ, sorry,” he says.

“Sorry? For what?”

“For starters, waking you up in the middle of the night,” he says. “And for weeping like some baby in your arms.”

You smile softly, inclining your head. You flick a strand of hair out of Eddie’s eyes.

“For starters,” you mimic, “I woke you up first.”

Eddie inhales, and when it comes out as more of a sniffle, he wants to dissolve into floor.

“Yeah, well,” he says. “For the second thing, then. If you could forget that ever happened, actually, that’d be fantastic.”

You inspect him for a moment, eyes narrowed.

“Most girls find it attractive when a man cries, you know,” you say, just teasing enough that Eddie allows it. “Or hasn’t someone taught you that yet.”

Eddie rolls his eyes and extricates himself from your arms, but when he tries to pull back, you catch his face in your hands. He could pull away. He doesn’t.

“You can talk to me, you know,” you say. “You’re not going to scare me off.”

Eddie almost lies, but maybe he’s tired of pretending, or just plain tired. So he doesn’t lie.

“It’s this dream. I’m back in that hell-pit, but I can’t move. Can’t scream. I’m gonna die, and I know it.” Eddie shakes his head. “The first time I got arrested, I remember thinking, this is it, Munson, this is the end of the road. You really did it now, man.” He snorts. “I was fifteen, and an idiot, and I got off with some bullshit community service. Like I wasn’t already providing a community service.”

“The friendly, misunderstood, neighborhood drug dealer,” you say.

Eddie smiles. “Basically.”

You lift a brow, urging him to continue.

Eddie swallows and says, “And then, when I was seventeen, I flipped this dirt bike I took way too far out onto the interstate. Got stranded in the middle of nowhere. I thought I was a goner, then, too, but some poor tourist from Bloomington found me, dragged my ass to the closest hospital. And it felt like… I don’t know, like I’d just scraped through.” Eddie clears his throat. “But when we were all down there—when I was—” He stops.

Something bumps his hand, and he glances down just in time to see you threading your fingers through his.

“I was just laying there, dying, and all I could think was, okay, so this is it. The actual end of the goddamn road.” He closes his eyes. “Sometimes, I still feel like I’m there. Like I’ll always be there. Bleeding out in the dirt.”

“But you’re not.”

“You sure about that?” he asks. “Cuz, honestly, some days, I’m not.”

You’re quiet for a long time before you finally speak.

“I’ve been at the end of the road more times than I can count,” you say softly. “But it kept going. It always keeps going.”

“And if it doesn’t?” he asks, cocking a brow.

A tiny, sad smile plays on your lips. “Then you find another one.”

And if Eddie hadn’t already considered that this entire thing was some twisted fantasy conjured by his overtired brain, you lean toward him, and press your lips to his.

He’s so shocked he forgets to move, forgets to breathe, and doesn’t manage to figure it out until a beat after your hands fall from his cheeks and you start to pull back. He takes your chin in his hand, guiding you back to him.

He kisses you like he’s wanted to for two months. Until his lips are numb and you’re both breathing heavy, and all of his nightmares have been lured back into their hiding places. Not forever, but for now, and now is enough.

You end up a pile of tangled limbs and blankets, Eddie’s arms around you and your head pillowed on his chest. He trails a slow finger up and down your forearm.

At some point, he asks, without meaning to, “Is this real?”

You twist in his arms, rolling onto your stomach and propping yourself up on his chest. Your lips curl up in a smile.

“If you want it to be,” you say.

Eddie grins. “No complaints here.”

You laugh, and take one of his curls between your fingers, wrapping it once, twice, three times around your knuckle. You lift your eyes to his, suddenly serious.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

Eddie’s stomach flips, though he isn’t sure why. He nods.

You hesitate. Swallow. Say, quickly, “I think I might be in love with you.”

Eddie feels like his chest cracks wide open. He rolls through a dozen things to say, before settling for the copout.

“You think?”

You huff a laugh. “Fine. I definitely am, but I’m trying not to—”

“Scare me off?”

You shrug.

Eddie’s smile widens, and he finally understand the sentiment of smiling so hard it hurts. Of happiness being so big that it’s painful.

“In case you were curious,” Eddie says. “I’m definitely in love with you.” Love. It’s been so long since he said the word, it tastes unfamiliar, but he doesn’t mind it. Might even like it.

“You better be,” you say. “Or this was about to get really awkward.”

Eddie laughs, and kisses you once, twice, three times, until you’re laughing, too. And even though the lights are off, Eddie swears his room has never been brighter.

taglist: @milkiane

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