#visage ⟩ 【i'm face to face with someone new】

[strwbrychffoncke]

"i just wanted to tell you incase you forgot... 'i love you',, 3k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: the ways in which you tell sylus "i love you" and ways in which he reciprocates contains: lnds sylus x mc?reader (fem in mind but she/her is used like once or twice) ,fluff! ,kitten/sweetie used as pet names ,domestic!sylus feel ,cuddling ,playful banter ,baker sylus ,incorrect evol use but its wholesome ,sylus chases u around ,twins feature ,not much to say other than soft!sylus being in love w u / both of u being lovesick for e/o + twins shenanigans at the end (i think thats it) note: (mostly edited ,will check back later) added this track last minute but immediately knew who i wanted to write it for. first fic of the event woooo~ :x

-

sylus wasn't a man of love-filled sentiments.

or at least, that's what you'd initially thought.

a man like him, the big bad leader of onychinus, someone who was above everyone else and the most sought-after criminal, wielding a steel-cold gun in one of his bloodstained hands...

someone like that didn't know love, surely.

but oh, how wrong you were.

you were the only one that knew, under all of that tough exterior, the true tenderness that lied beneath it.

and you were the sole subject to it, from the very beginning.

-

you woke unceremoniously in a bed that was not your own, surrounded in a blanket of warmth but not solely due to the comforter surrounding your plush body:

it was mainly due to the otherworldly individual beneath you, who you were using as your personal body pillow of sorts.

you stir, letting out a small groan before peeking your eyes open to catch a glimpse of the man before you.

the big, bad leader of onychinus, sleeping soundly in bed next to you, arm firmly wrapped around your waist and your head comfortably planted on his chest— your favorite makeshift pillow.

you can't help but to smile at the sight.

feeling a touch mischievous, you begin trailing your fingers, touch featherlight, up from his waist towards his chest and back down, slowly shifting to drawing mindless shapes in the expanse of exposed skin.

he doesn't react to your touches, still deep in sleep, so you change your tactic.

you drag a single index finger up, up, up past his slender waist, then his slowly rising and falling chest, his pretty neck then up towards his sharp jawline to poke at his cheek.

he grunts in his sleep, but nothing more.

you let out a huff, lifting your head up and staring at the serene expression on his face— even lost in the land of dreams, you couldn't help but to admire every feature of his visage.

a couple of minutes pass by just like this until you decide you're feeling a little bored again.

so you repeat your earlier action, dragging your finger up slowly, slowly, just about to poke his cheek again—

when your wrist is swiftly caught by a warm hand before you reach it.

"it seems my dream of a kitten mistaking me for a toy wasn't a dream after all."

sylus' crimson eyes crack open to look directly into your bright (albeit still slightly-sleepy) ones, heart full at the little playful smile you're sporting.

"she seems bored," he muses, thumb from the hand still gripping your wrist gently caressing your knuckles back and forth— a subconscious habit whenever his hands hold yours.

"should i entertain her?"

his question goes unanswered as he shifts over on his side while letting your hand go at the same time, causing you to slip from your spot on top of him to behind him, facing his back.

"—or leave her to her own devices?"

"sylus!"

your laughs are airy, quickly enveloping the spacious bedroom, and sylus finds himself smiling at the sound.

you don't leave him alone for long, quickly pressing against him and hugging his large frame from behind.

sylus releases a playful scoff. "is this a new attack of yours?"

"yeah, you can't escape, i'm going to stick to you like this forever and ever!"

"how touching," his voice is filled with amusement. "i think i can get used to this..." he trails off, smile evident in his words.

you stay that way for awhile when you decide to repeat your earlier actions in the new space, retracting a hand as you begin to draw shapes into his back this time. at the same time, sylus begins to hum whatever song is on his mind, eyes shut as he revels in your touches, neither one of you in a rush to get up from this sacred space for two.

"what are you drawing, kitten?"

your finger dances across the bare canvas of his back.

"guess," you answer simply as you continue.

he lets out a huff of a laugh. "not going to make it easy for me, are you?"

you hum in response, dragging your fingers to create imaginary lines over the muscles.

"is this... a kitten?" you can almost hear the raise of his eyebrow and see the funny yet curious expression on his face.

"oooh, i didn't think you'd get that one. how about..."

your finger traces several lines again, taking your time before you stop and wait for his answer.

"hmmm..." the way he's concentrating trying to figure it out fills you with amusement like no other.

"a... plane?"

"wrong, it was mephisto!"

"..it was close."

"are you calling mephisto a plane..?"

"..let's move on to the next one."

a hearty laugh rings out as you pretend to erase the image.

"wait until i tell him~"

"you wouldn't dare," he jokingly threats, causing you to only giggle back in response.

you decide on something much simpler this time.

your movements are slowed as you start near the center, drawing a tilted line outward and up before curving it inward and mimicking the same on the opposite side, connecting them to form a heart.

i love you.

a short, amused laugh leaves him, immediately recognizing the shape, but shaping a question instead of an answer.

"i'm not too sure, sweetie. might have to try that one again," he says, voice soft and tender, a hint of a smile within it.

say it once more.

so you do.

you repeat your action, slower, drawing another imaginary heart on his bare skin and within it, your unspoken promise of devotion towards him.

i love you.

this time, he turns around to face you, pulling you flush against him. you let out a short laugh before its devoured by his lips on yours, caught in a dance of love and devotion, giggles bubbling out of you between the breaks as you try to catch your breath while he needily chases your lips.

and the message he wishes to convey is clear as day.

i love you, too.

-

someone like him was the last person you thought you'd ever associate sweets with.

but after the time spent together, you find it hard to imagine anyone else cautiously reading the instructions, mixing the ingredients precisely, and carefully readying the icing for the fresh cupcakes that have come out of the oven and are left cooling nearby, except for him.

you tiptoe into the kitchen, watching him prepare a piping bag for the freshly-made icing he's made while he hums (when you asked him why he goes through the trouble of making it from scratch, he countered by asking "doesn't it taste better when you put in the work for something?" and despite playfully scoffing at the little smirk he offered, you couldn't help but to agree with him).

you smile at his focused expression, reading glasses perched on his nose, some remnants of ingredients spotting his clothes as he decides on which icing tip to use for these particular cupcakes (the last time he made them, they resembled simple flowers. based on the icing tip he was inspecting now, it seemed he was going to try for roses this time).

now just a step away from his back, you reach out both hands, index fingers out as you poke both sides of his lower back at the same time.

he jolts at the sensation, small gasp emitting from his lips and shock washing over him as he cranes his neck over his shoulder to catch your satisfied smile.

"another sneak attack, kitten?"

"i couldn't resist."

you step up beside him, taking a peek into the bowl filled with icing.

"red this time? i would've never guessed."

he scoffs, smiling.

"am i that predictable to you?"

"well, after spending so much time together, its only natural, right?"

"its bad if an enemy learns to read you so easily; who knows what trap will be set in the future."

"you're right," your words trail off as you step back, causing the sly crow before you to raise a brow.

"they can plan an attack when you're vulnerable, like—"

behind him again, you jump forward, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"this!"

his hearty chuckle rings through the kitchen.

even if he saw your intention from the start, he made no move to stop you. he'd surrender to you if you so much as asked.

"so? what will you do with me now that i'm caught?"

"hmmm..."

you hum in thought, noticing sylus has picked up the piping bag and was inserting the icing tip into it, getting ready to fill the bag with the red icing.

he's waiting for your answer when one of your hands reaches forward, dipping your finger into the icing bowl and quickly withdrawing your arms, swiftly turning around—

when you feel yourself being lifted into the air.

you let out a surprised squeal, giggling as you thrash around in the hold of sylus' evol, said man's attention still on the icing bag as he scoops a dallop of red into it.

"such a naughty kitten," he says, evol pulling your suspended body over to him slowly as you laugh the entire way.

"and naughty kittens deserve a punishment," as he speaks, he dips his own finger into the bowl of icing, red now gathered onto the tip before looking up at you through the rims of his glasses.

realizing what he's planning, you thrash around to no avail within the confines of his evol, trying to create distance between you two.

"nooooo! im sorry! please- aha, hahaha! sylus!"

your attempt is futile, sly smirk curling on sylus' lips as his finger moves closer and closer to your smiling face that's trying to inch further and further away, pressing his finger right onto your nose, painting it in red.

"noooooo!" you whine, sylus chuckling in amusement.

"how cute," he muses. "maybe this will teach you to behave in the kitchen."

he finally lets you down with his evol, eyeing you as you're standing upright and before him once again.

"now, go and wait till i'm finished, i'll even let you have the first taste," he bargains, turning his back to you and walking back towards the icing bowl.

despite this, a smirk plasters itself onto your face as you creep your way up behind him once again, red icing still staining your finger from moments ago stretched out, ready to paint his cheek—

"i thought i told you to behave."

despite the countless attempts to catch him by surprise attacks, he knows what you're saying through them:

i love you.

your wrist is easily caught in his grasp, stopping your attack before it can hit his cheek, a displeased groan emitting from your throat.

he brings your icing-covered finger close to his lips, lapping at the red. you watch as it momentarily stains his lips before his tongue licks them clean, humming at the flavor.

"it seems.. better this time, don't you think?" he turns, looking down at you.

you huff out a breath, trying to hide your embarrassment at his little action.

"be patient, kitten, i'll be done soon enough..." he trails off, hand unraveling from your wrist. "or do i have to restrain you?"

"i'm going, i'm going!"

with that, you scurry out of the kitchen to wait in the living room, sylus' amused chuckle surrounding the kitchen soon replaced by his soft, mindless humming once again.

i love you more.

-

a man of his caliber having a playful side seemed like a far-fetched idea.

until you experienced it for yourself.

and since the very first time, you're convinced he may be the most playful person on the entire planet.

to be fair, you kind of expected this, after all, its not like it was the first time.

but when you snatched a cupcake when his back was turned and took a bite, you didn't expect him to notice— at least, not right away.

but he did, and when he began counting, you instinctually bolted out of the kitchen, cupcake still in hand, giggles trailing behind you, determined to not be caught by him.

you dashed past the living area, two crow masks peeking up from their spot on the sofa and shifting to another figure— their boss— who was trailing behind you, watching until your figures disappeared down the long corridor of the hall.

"i give her five minutes," kieran pipes up, turning towards his brother.

"i give her three!"

"you're on!"

. . .

even as you dash down the halls, careful not to hit anything and running in scattered directions, it doesn't take long for sylus to close in on you.

you make it to a lounging area, movements slowed from the amount you've ran in the past couple of minutes, beginning to catch your breath after not sensing him around when you feel a weight on your shoulders.

"caught you."

"...!"

he's equally out of breath, taking a few moments to even his breathing, leaning against you more and more before pushing your body down onto the sofa. you fall back on the cushions with a short oof! still in the midst of catching your breath before sylus lays what feels like his entire weight right on top of you.

"sylus!"

you push against his broad chest, completely crushed by his beautiful build of a body, laughter ringing through the living space at your futile struggle against the smirking man above you.

"it seems a little kitten is stuck," he heaves a couple of breaths. "what are you going... to do about it?"

"get... off!" you laugh.

"i'm tired after all of that chasing... not to mention this is comfortable for me," he takes a couple more breaths, looking down at your slightly-sweaty face. "so i'd rather not."

"you're heavy, sylus!"

you weakly hit at his chest when he closes his eyes, pretending to fall asleep on top of you.

"sylus!"

slowly, he lifts himself up with his arms, hands planted flat on either side of your head.

"attacking me after making me chase you? how very cruel of you, sweetie."

your breaths are mostly even now, watching for sylus' next move.

he slowly begins moving his head down, and your eyes naturally flutter closed, expecting a kiss.

he takes this opportunity to plant his knees into the sofa, shifting his weight onto them as he leans down, breath fanning your lips.

"you trust me, sweetie?" he whispers against your lips.

"always," you whisper back.

he suddenly lifts his head, arms lifting at the same time before his fingers immediately begin dancing over your midriff.

your eyes shoot open in shock and betrayal, laughs immediately ripped from your throat as you thrash beneath him, trying your best to get away despite being caged into the sofa.

"s-sy-sy- ahahah! sto-o-p! s-stop! hahaha!"

his fingers continue their brutal attack on your sensitive skin, bubbling laughter infectious as sylus joins you, pleased smile adorning his face at your current state.

he relents shortly after, allowing you to catch your breath again as he looks down at you in a daze, reaching out to straighten your hair.

"kiss..." your voice is breathless, but he catches it.

"hm?"

"you still owe me... a kiss...." you breathe out, looking up at him expectantly. "from earlier."

"ah, of course."

he leans down, capturing your lips with his, hovering over your body as your arms snake around his neck, pouring your hearts into the action. you both kiss with equal fervor, chasing each others lips, never able to get your fill of the other.

i love you.

he pulls away slowly, your legs wrapping around his waist to keep him close in fear of him leaving you all of a sudden. the look in his eyes says i'm not going anywhere, his forehead touching yours as you both breathe each other in before he tucks his head into your shoulder.

"lets stay like this... just for a bit," his quiet, husky breath hits your ear and you shiver at the sensation.

"okay," you smile, hands petting through his silver locks.

i love you, most.

and you stay together, just like that, losing track of time in the world reserved for two, heartbeats syncing up as you meld against one another, both with the shared sentiment of never letting go.

(only at your insistence of taking a shower and slipping into some fresh clothes when you think he's dozed off does he relent, slowly getting up and scooping you into his arms, making his way down the hall towards his room).

-

sylus wasn't a man of love-filled sentiments.

at least, that's what you'd initially thought.

a man like him, the big bad leader of onychinus, someone who seemed to be above everyone else, the most sought-after criminal wielding a steel-cold gun in one of his bloodstained hands—

the same hands that cradled your face, caressed your hair any chance he got, tickled you when you least expected it, carried you so lovingly at your beck-and-call, hugging you close to his chest, close enough that you could feel his beating heart—

the heart of a man who loved so wholly and completely, devoting his entire being to you.

so, despite what anyone else may think, may also assume at first glance, you knew the truth:

despite the odds, sylus was someone that knew love the best.

-

epilogue:

"so... who won?" luke turns to his brother under the crow mask.

"i did, obviously," kieran is all-too confident.

"what?!? nuh-uh, she was definitely caught in less than five minutes!"

"did we watch the same thing? that was maybe six!"

"are you.... stupid?"

"rude!"

"i didn't think you'd try to lie your way to win," luke crosses his arms over his chest.

"i am not lying!"

"are too!"

the bickering continues for a couple more minutes until luke pipes up again.

"wait, what was the prize for whoever won the bet?"

"......"

kieran is the first to speak up again.

"you know what, since you won, you can be the one to tell boss the reason so many cupcakes are missing."

"WHAT???"

later, the cameras in mephisto's eyes would relay the twins chasing each other around— just amongst the footage of them scarfing down the freshly-made rose-icing cupcakes.

-

a/n: spreading the soft sylus agenda... this is inspired by a number of domestic art/tweets ive seen if i find them ill add but.. he's so soft..... i adore him

-

[sirfluffletin]

Do I Look Like your Girlfriend?

Two Time

"Azure! I... You came back to me... I,-"

You whipped your head around at the sound of their voice, you hadn't recognized it nor had you heard them walk up from behind you.

Your hand came to your chest, heaving a few startled breaths. Your brows lowered curiously as their face flashed from a ecstatic cheerful grin that split from ear to ear into a twisted hurt look- as if you had just took all of their hopes, and all of their dreams and ripped it to shreds infront of them.

You reached a concerned hand out to them and their whole body jerked away from your touch. You were bewildered at their reaction searching their frantic eyes for any show of what could be wrong.

"I-Im sorry... Were you looking for someone? Could I assis-?"

You couldn't even finish before they had fled, away from the community garden you stood in once more in solitude into the shadows of the surrounding cabins.

Chance

"So ya' sure your don't know anyone named iTrapped? Tall, blonde hair, crown of ice?- nothing?"

You shook your head once again, an apologetic smile creeping onto your face as he studied your features for the umpteenth time.

"I... I can't fucking believe it," The nudged open the pocket in his coat fishing a crumpled half empty pack of 'Nat Shermans' stained with a dried rust color- it reminded you of blood. He flipped open the pack of cigarettes with a casual virtuosity, tipping the cartridge from where you sat next to him.

"I'm good, thanks." You shook your head with finality, you weren't keen on sitting here being accused of knowing someone you don't, nor smoking over the topic- with bloody cigarettes no less, but it seems fate had other plans as he began again.

"You could be his twin... Your face, your voice..." He ran a hand through his hair smoothing it back and closing his eyes as if he were trying to remember something.

007n7

"Do I look like your girlfriend?" You quirked a brow at the man, his tired eyes blown wide and his mouth twisted into a unsure grimace. He kneaded the fleshy buds of his knuckles; just standing there... Looking at you as if you were some spectre there to haunt him with just your visage, he had been staring like that for several moments since he'd laid eyes on you but it seemed you comment finally broke him from his stupor.

"Gah-... M'sorry, No my... Ex-Partner."

You hummed thoughtfully at that, you saw how the others treated him, it was obvious as soon as you got here that he was bad news for one reason or another... It was also obvious that this man was lonely, lonely enough to think a complete stranger looked like his partner.

"What happened? If you don't mind me asking"

The man mumbled something under his breath, you couldn't perceive it and you guessed it wasn't for you ears anyhow...

Jane Doe

"Did... Did I remind you of someone?"

She jumped a bit at your words, it was ever so slight you could tell by the diminutive bob of the brim of her hat. She made a small 'hmmm...' sound; you assumed that she were acknowledged your question performing a small nod. But... That wasn't really the answer you were looking for so you pushed for more about the aloof woman.

"Who was it?"

Her gloved hands had balled at her sides and a taut frown pulled at the ends of her mouth.

"No one important... Goodnight." Her hand pats you twice before she steps out of the community cabin and into the night, her silloute seeps into black. As she leaves you can only hope you didn't overstep.

Azure

It hurts. Everything hurts. There's lights dancing across your vision... Flowers- why do you smell flowers?

Your eyes were clenched shut, they needed to stay that way- the you were kept in was too bright it burned a hole through your retinas... That's atLeast what it felt like. You didn't want to open them again but the hand on your head and the lulling smell of flowers had convinced you otherwise.

"Breathe Two Time."

He has said, firm and flat the hand on your scalp felt like ice on your burning skin, pinpricks violently danced amongst your body the more you lain in this... Warm, strong... Safe embrace, everything is fading in and out. There’s a keening sound, a whine in the dirt, after a few seconds you realize it’s yourself moaning in dying pain. You still followed their orders heaving sporadically in their intoxicating scent that strangled your lungs so sweetly, it made you sputter body spasming in their possession. You could taste them on your tongue, their scent, potent, sickly- its killing you... You can tell but at least they held you of so gently, like you were the most delicate precious thing in the world. You would dissolve in this scent... Perhaps you already were.

[idillycrose]

"Despite everything, it's still you"

Genre and info: Angst || Mydeimos x GN!reader || Mydeimos is referred to as Mydei || Mydei turns into a titan || I thought of this while having the worst mental breakdown last night || this is short due to my dying mental health

You'd stand, looking at your lover in shock, who now stood, all high and mighty, in this new, monstrous form, blood covering his arms, a storm in his amber eyes. This was his destiny, this was the fate he was assigned, this IS the path he has to take, whether he liked it or not. Mydei, once human, now stood as a bloodthirsty titan, killing his people out of his will, the once lush grass the people stood now, now drenched in crimson, just like his hands, his spear-like weapon dripping with life from the Kremnoan warriors he slaughtered. You were supposed to be afraid, but you weren't, because you knew who was behind that horrifying frame. Behind was your husband, your dearest, your forever, your Mydei.

He'd turn to you, looking at you with an exhausted expression on his face, his ginormous face dwarfing your form. You were too a flame-chaser, though, you still had long to face your fate of becoming a titan, so you didn't really lose any of your humanity as much as him. He'd stare, and you'd stare back at him, wonder on your face, unlike the fearful visages the wounded knights had. As you began to speak, Mydei cut you off

"Leave or die, I cannot do otherwise before I fully turn into what Nikador has made me become. Find someone else, someone human, and do not approach again" he'd state sharply, causing you to flinch a bit in surprise. This was him, it is him, but...it isn't him, well, at least in the others' eyes. You'd shake your head and walk closer, raising your hand to him, waiting for a response, and when you got none, you spoke, voice firm, yet wavering at the same time

"I will not go searching for someone else, Mydei, because even as a titan, you're still you, in my eyes. Let me approach, and if death is your response, I'll take it, if it means I'll die in your arms or hand"

At that, Mydei's eyes softened, a sigh escaping him as he knelt infront of you, reluctantly holding your extended hand, as if he feared to break your hand. Even as a titan, he had a soft spot for you, one that never withered away, even after he had his sanity cripple and succumb to the madness Nikador's coreflame inflicted. He'd speak up again, his voice low

"I told you to find someone else, someone who is human..someone who will take care of you and not murder you.."

"I don't want that. Even as a titan, even as a human, even as a beast...you are you, you are the man I married, you are the man I gave my heart to, you are the man I trusted, and that will never waver, that will never change"

"How could you love a monster like me, I am holding your hand in my bloodied one"

"Even if you hold a dead body in your hand, I will still love you. You are you, Mydei. You are my husband. If no one will accept our relationship, then they can burn for all I care...I am proud to call you mine, and I'm happy to be called yours. I will not scrape your name off my wrist, even if I was threatened to be burned alive. You are my first and final, in every life and in this one"

Mydei leaned in and placed a peck on your head, standing and turning, leaving. This was his goodbye, this was his final action. He may be a terrifying monster used for chaos, but to you, he was him. He was the same blonde man who fought for Okhema and Kremnos, the same man who held you while you cried in his arms, the same man who got up in nights he found a blink of sleep at your request, even if he wished to sleep, he woke up for you and made you anything you wanted. He was perfectipn to you, even as a titan now. He was Mydei, your Mydei

©Idillycrose.writes ノ all rights reserved... ♡⁠˖⁠⑅

DO NOT STEAL, IF INSPIRED, CREDIT ME WITH @idillycrose

♡"it's you"♡

◇"despite everything, it's still you"◇

•idillycrose leaves•

@sillyseraphie hope you enjoy this one, I felt like writing this for u

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Hi! I don't know if you are open to requests and if you're not completely ignore this request!!

Could I get a drabble/one-shot of Husk or Alastor finding their wife from the living world has come to the hotel? Like this is their first time seeing her after many years? Thank you and I Hope you have a good day/night!!

A/n: I'm gonna do both!

Husk:

It was that stupid fucking smirk that pissed him off, why did that prick look so fucking smug?! "What the fuck are you looking at?"

Alastor hummed turning his back to the cat demon as he waved him off. "I know something you don't know."

"What the fu-."

His name, his real name that he hadn't heard in years from a voice that still remains in his mind echoed through out the bar. His eyes went wide taking in the appearance of the new inhabitant of the Hotel.

Expect she wasn't new, oh god she wasn't new. Taking a hesitant step forward, he never thought he would see you again. His wife, his lovely wife.

It did not take long for him to pull you in his arms, his chest heaving as he desperately clung to you. Even with your broken wings you were still beautiful.

Pulling back slightly, Husk's ears flattened on his head. A deep purr leaving his chest as he looked into your eyes. "I know I ain't much to look at."

Shaking your head, you didn't care. After living in Heaven for so long you finally found the love of your life. "Who are you kidding, you still handsome." Sighing you buried your face into his chest to listen to his heart beat. "Know matter what you are I will always love you."

"I never stopped loving you...my angel."

Alastor:

He was trying to ignore what ever Charlie was blabbering about, something about a new inhabitant to the hotel....someone for him to exploit? Well lets just see how naive they really are.

Though the moment he spotted them, he felt his smile twitch. This had to be some cruel joke, a punishment. You did not belong here! you were to pure for hell, to kind!

It was a mistake, it had to be a mistake. "I don't know who you are but go back to where you came from! I should just rip you apart for taking the visage of my wife!"

You could feel the tears sliding down your cheeks as you took a step forward. But with every step you took forward he took on back and soon his back hit the wall. Ears twitching back and forth, you could see his hand gripping that cane tight in his grasp.

You had to make him see it was you, so you hummed, you hummed that song he sang to you on your wedding night, the song he would sing to to your anniversary, the one he sang the night you were killed.

You let your hand glide across his cheek, you could see the smile wavering as he finally took you into his arms.

"You came back to me." He whispered into your neck.

Nuzzling your face into his chest, you smiled as your eyes closed. "And I will never leave you again."

[andypantsx3]

Andy I just had a thought.. Shouto kabedon.. i’m very sane about this

Omg I loooveeeeeeeee this omg!!!!!!! You are a genius!!!!!!! This ask unlocked something inside of my brain; this is barely coherent and unedited but I offer you this heartfelt nonsense in return.

contents: shouto x reader, sfw, implied fem reader, aged-up characters, 1.7k

You tried to ignore it when you first heard Mineta say it.

"Trust me, the babes love it," he'd lisped to his doubtful audience—Kaminari, a befuddled-looking Kirishima, and Shouto, whose face was so impassive you'd actually been under the impression he wasn't listening.

The former members of UA's graduating class of 2X74 were stuffed into Kaminari's new apartment for a party. It was mostly the heroics department, but you'd spotted a few of your fellow general course graduates as you'd passed through the kitchen to grab a drink. You'd come out into the living room to see Mina and Jirou—as well as pretend like you weren't ogling your long-time crush Shouto—but you found you were immediately regretting leaving the safety of that kitchen.

"And you've... done it?" Kirishima asked, eyebrows scrunched.

Mineta made a show of inspecting his fingernails like it was nothing to him—which you seriously doubted. "Trust me, women like assertiveness. This move is plastered all over their romance manga."

You took another sip from your drink. You wanted to pretend like you weren't hearing this, but Mina and Jirou were making it hard, Jirou stone-faced next to you and Mina unsuccessfully trying to filter her gleeful laughter into her own drink.

"Do you think women even know it's a kabedon, if he does it?" she asked, leaning in to whisper.

Jirou looked doubtful.

"He's like, waist height," you whispered back, sighing. "I don't even know if his arm would reach the wall either...?"

"I think it probably looks like he's just trying to hold himself up," Mina said, her grin unholy.

"I pity the woman he's attempted it on," Jirou said drily.

"—you're sure?" Kaminari was saying when you turned back to the boys' conversation, also looking doubtful.

"One hundred percent success rate," Mineta insisted, eyebrows wiggling.

Despite yourself, your eyes slid over to Shouto, like they almost always did, wandering over that handsomely thoughtful expression. It was the thing you liked the most about him—how his angelically beautiful visage was at stark odds with how awkward and kind of strange he was; how he looked like an ice prince but was one of the warmest, kindest people you'd ever spoken to.

You'd been paired for a couple assignments back in school, hung out on the periphery of his Class A friend groups, and had ended up teaching him a fair few things about how to cook and do laundry when he'd asked. He'd even rescued you during one of the many attacks that made up your time at UA together—which was really when your crush hit you full-force.

He'd been so gentle with you, carrying you out of harm's way when your injured leg had crumpled beneath you, and the careful way he'd handled you had been so at variance with the raw, roiling power he'd wielded on the battlefield—the tidal waves of ice that swept up the villains, the towering wall of fire that mercilessly choked off any of their escape points.

You thought Shouto was one of the most gentle, well-mannered men on earth.

He would probably never kabedon someone. He would never need to—people fell all over themselves for him.

"The babes fall right into your arms," Mineta said, raising his voice to encompass the knot of girls stuffed together on the loveseat. "Isn't that right, ladies?"

"I'm going to get another drink, the image of Mineta trying to kabedon me needs to be wiped from my brain," you told the girls, flinging yourself over Mina's legs in your haste to escape.

The kitchen was a welcome reprieve, and you dug around in Kaminari's fridge for another can, letting the cool air wash over you. You studiously ignored that all Kaminari seemed to have in his fridge was a pile of moldering grapes and some mayo.

Can acquired, you briefly considered not going back out into the living room and abandoning Mina and Jirou to their fate. But the pull of Shouto was too strong, and with a sigh you resigned yourself to more of Mineta's lechery.

In the hallway, however, you stumbled into the man himself, coming towards you from the opposite direction. You were struck momentarily dumb by the way the breadth of his shoulders seemed to take up almost the entire span of the hall, the way his fading summer tan looked against the light-blue of his button up. He was so handsome even when he was just walking, it was so deeply unfair.

"Hi Shouto," you said, raising your can in a salute, hoping your voice sounded normal. "Careful in Kaminari's fridge, he's culturing something on his grapes."

Shouto blinked down at you, those beautiful mismatched eyes growing a little wider. "Y/N," he greeted you, though there was a note of something strange in his voice, like there was something weird about you that he hadn't expected.

You wondered if you'd spilled something on yourself like a child, and decided to detour to the bathroom on your way back. How embarrassing.

You gave him a rueful grin, stuffing yourself against the wall so you wouldn't accidentally bump a strong shoulder as you passed, swearing vengeance on your drink if it had betrayed you in this moment—

Except, suddenly there was a hand against the wall in front of you, blocking your passage down the hall. You startled, whipping back around to stare at Shouto, only to find him looming way closer than you had anticipated.

Your back bumped the wall as he crowded you in, his other arm coming up to press against the wall on your other side, caging you inside his reach.

Your mind was so overwhelmed with the sight of him this close—that straight, blade-thin nose, that full, pouty mouth—the light touch of some expensive cologne at his collarpoints—that it took you a second to catch up with what was going on.

Your mouth dropped open when you registered that Todoroki Shouto had just—kabedoned you?—was actively kabedonning you? what the literal fuck—in the middle of Kaminari's hallway.

"Shouto? What—?" you managed, your voice strangled. The air felt like it was resisting you, refusing to be drawn into your lungs.

Shouto's voice was low and intimate as he answered, sending a mortifyingly visible shiver right down your spine. "Is it working?"

You gaped at him, eyes flickering over his serious expression. "Is—what—?"

Shouto shifted even closer, so that his face was a scant two inches from yours. You were suddenly, horrifyingly aware of how close his mouth was, how tall and strong and warm he was over you.

"Do you plan to fall into my arms?" Shouto asked. "Mineta said women liked it."

It was a fight for your life to make the connection over the static in your brain, the lack of oxygen in the air. Mineta had said women would fall for you if you kabedonned them... Shouto was.... kabedonning you.... computation pending...

"You... want it to work?" you asked, words clipped. You felt like any stray movement and your mouth would brush his, and you didn't know if he wanted—it was too strange to think that he might—

"Yes," Shouto replied, his handsome face serious. Those heterochromatic eyes searched over you, trailing over your features like a warm touch. "I want it to. Am I... not doing it correctly?"

Your face heated, and an entire conservatory of butterflies took flight in your stomach. You could not believe what was going on right now.

"No you're—you're doing it right."

Shouto's face was even closer, then, his mouth a whisper away from yours. "Then you have fallen for me," he said, sounding like both a question and a conclusion. He looked like he didn't know what to do next.

You had to suppress a laugh, charmed and mystified and nervous all at once. He was so reliably strange—of course he had taken Mineta's assertions at face value. And he was so straightforward, of course he had implemented the advice straight away. He was so silly, you liked him so, so much.

"I... have," you said, a helpless smile creeping over your lips. "Although it was a while before the kabedon, to be honest."

Shouto blinked, and you could just barely see his mouth grow a little slack in surprise. "Oh," he said, a hint of a shy smile touching his mouth. "Good."

"Yeah. Good," you said, your own grin going wider.

Shouto's eyes dipped down to your mouth, and his eyelashes fluttered. A thrill of anticipation went down your spine, your knees suddenly liquefying, as Shouto leaned back in, and your own eyes fluttered closed.

The press of his mouth was hot and soft—perfect, like you'd always fantasized it would be. He shifted closer, so that he pressed against you, and you had to tilt your head back to accommodate how tall he was, reveling in the strength and the heat of him over you. One of his hands left the wall to thread into your hair as he kissed you, cradling the back of your head like you were something precious, and your stomach swooped in response.

He kissed you boneless, absolutely stupid against the wall of Kaminari's hallway, and it was all your could do to wrap your arms around him and kiss him back. You didn't know how long it was that the two of you stood there, wrapped up in one other. All you knew was you never wanted Shouto's mouth to leave yours again, never wanted to leave the circle of his embrace.

So of course an appreciative whistle broke the two of you apart. You tore your mouth away from Shouto's only to find Mineta standing at the end of the hall, grinning like a wolf. A tiny, lecherous little wolf.

"Nice one, Tododoki," he said, like you weren't even there.

You bristled, stiffening in Shouto's arms as you glanced back at him quickly to measure his response. But the dazed look on Shouto's face pulled you up short, and he looked at Mineta like he wasn't really seeing him.

"You were right," was what he eventually managed. "The kabedon is very effective. Now if you will excuse us, I need to do it again."

A shocked laugh escaped you as Shouto's hand seized yours, and then you were being pulled around the corner into Kaminari's bathroom. Shouto walked you back against the door, an arm coming up just like before, pinning you against the door.

Another pleased laugh was muffled in Shouto's mouth as he took yours again, cupping your face to his. The lock clicked shut behind you.

[glasvera]

Cold Brew

Adam Warlock x Fem!Reader

Description: (Part 3 of this series, sequel to Dream and Sugar!) Adam's been gone for quite some time, and your coworker is tired of you moping about. Clearly, the answer is going on a date with the guy your coworker introduced you to. What could go wrong?

Warnings/Disclaimers: Angst. Date guy is a serious dick, name calling, shoving, etc. Adam causes property damage. Angst turns into fluff at the end though, I promise!

A/N: This one took a while (over a month??? damn my bad) because I'm actually developing a... *gasp*... plot! Also because I rewrote the cafe bit at least half a dozen times. But yes, things were getting so teeth-rottingly sweet in here that I had to throw in some conflict and angst to balance it all out. We will return to your regularly scheduled fluff in the next installment.

Word Count: 3.9k

When Peter Quill was greeted by the familiar albeit irritatingly perfect golden visage of Adam Warlock, he assumed it was for a lecture on his recklessness in their last little voyage. Adam doesn’t seem to visit him for much else. Not that he was antisocial, of course. The golden man was simply straight and to the point in almost everything he did.

That’s why it’s such a surprise when Adam mentions you.

“Wait, wait… sorry. I just gotta take this in,” he laughs jovially while spinning about in the cockpit seat. “The being made to be humanity’s best--no, beyond humanity’s best--is asking me for love advice?”

“Do not make me regret this,” Adam groans and pinches the bridge of his nose betwixt his fingers. “I do not know if such a thing exists for me. I only know that I… when I am with her, I feel… lighter? And yet there is an indescribable heaviness all the same. It is simultaneously the most wonderful thing I have ever felt and the most uncomfortable sensation I have ever experienced.”

Star-Lord digs his heel into the ground, bringing his spinning chair to a halt and slapping his hands on his knees. He quirks a brow at the perfect man. “You’re totally in love with her.”

“I have only met her twice,” he admits bashfully. “Is it not wrong to feel so strongly after so short a time?”

Star-Lord sighs, swiveling to the side and propping his feet up on the console. His eyes trail absentmindedly up to the ceiling and his lips purse to one side.

“Adam,” he starts, drawing the man’s milky white eyes to attention. There’s an undeniable seriousness in Quill’s voice. “If there’s one thing I’ve learned working with you, it’s that when you feel, you feel deeply. It’s kind of scary sometimes.”

“Scary…?” he echoes with trepidation.

“Not scary scary. Just… a lot, I guess. But if you’re really into this girl, and she’s into you, I mean…” He shrugs with his hands up in the air. “Might as well see what happens, right?”

“See… what happens…” he echoes, chewing pensively on his lower lip and staring down at his own shoes.

“Buddy, I'm pretty sure you could have anyone in the palm of your hand if you wanted. So, worst case scenario, there's bound to be someone else out there.”

Quill's reassurances do little to assuage Adam’s tumultuous thoughts.

“I… I do not want someone else,” he admits quietly. “I desire only her.”

-----

It had been weeks since you'd seen him last. Of course, you had gone months without seeing that perfect golden face of his before, but now, things were different. At first it felt like little more than chance, but after the conversation you shared last time, there was undeniably something more between you. 

You felt even more ridiculous, being strung along by a guy who's visited you twice. If this was his idea of courting you, he was really going to have to step up his game… assuming he was courting you at all, of course. It was all so vague and new, and he was a superhero who traveled across galaxies to save people. You desperately wanted to believe what he said.

It just gets more and more difficult to cling to that hope with every day that passes by.

You were working the closing shift today, moping a bit while lazily wiping down the countertop. It was stupid to be acting like this and you knew it, but sometimes you just needed to be upset about it for a little while so it didn't bottle up inside you. Goodness knows you've done that before. 

…The ensuing waterworks were never pretty.

“Did he ghost you again?” Your nosy coworker pipes up, nodding at your morose state. “Seriously… I mean, look at you. You've been wiping the same spot for the last five minutes.”

“I--well, I wouldn’t say he's ghosting me, but--”

He's not having any of it. “Girl, I couldn't get you to shut up about him for days after he showed up last time. He tells you he's into you and then goes radio silent?” He tuts. “That's like, the literal definition of ghosting.”

“He's…” You want to argue it. He's different? Busy? Familiar with spacecraft technology but apparently incapable of communicating digitally? Your shoulders slump, and you feel your eyes start to water. No, stop that. This isn't the time or place for a pity party.

“Yeah, that's what I thought. Girl, we have got to get you a hobby. Or another man. Maybe both while we're at it.”

You give him a snort, trying desperately to mask the budding tears even as you wipe your nose on the back of your arm. “You know I work too much for that. And I'm perfectly content being single.”

He claps his hands together. Pulling out his phone, he starts scrolling through his camera roll.

“There’s this guy I was seeing for a little bit--”

“Oh boy, sloppy seconds,” you interrupt sarcastically.

He rolls his eyes before giving you a pointed glare. “Babes, do you want my help or not?” 

Truthfully, you're not sure if you do. It's not like anything would really change if Adam disappeared from your life for good. Though, when you roll your lips between your teeth and allow him to continue, he cocks his head with a bit of attitude and mistakes your silence for acquiescence. 

“That’s what I thought. Anyway, he's bi, smokin’ hot, smart, loves kittens and puppies, the whole package…”

You admire the pictures he shows you, but something wasn’t adding up. Your eyes narrow. “What’s the catch? Why did you two split?”

“Because,” he says, putting a firm hand down on the counter you'd been continuously polishing, “he was practically married to his work. Smart college man wants to go big in the world of science. It wasn’t going to work.” He lifts his hand and points at you. “But you? You're basically the same, working all the time. It’s perfect.”

“So we'd be perfect because we'd never have time for each other…?” you challenge, resting a hand on your hip.

“Oh, he has time. It just wasn't enough for me. I'm very high maintenance.”

You snort at his self-dig, but finally you relent. “Fine. Set us up. I'll at least give him a chance.”

-----

Unsurprisingly, it was a bit difficult finding a time that worked well for the both of you. Surprisingly, this guy, Nate, seemed into you right from the first selfie. Not that you looked bad, of course, but you weren’t expecting the eagerness with which he responded. You got a lot of scientist jokes from him about being “the perfect specimen”. At least… you're pretty sure those are jokes. 

It helps that he's hot.

In a sense, it worked out better for you, since it meant you had a few extra weeks to at least text each other before meeting. You had a few things in common that you were able to talk about, and he seemed responsive enough when you asked him questions about his work. 

Your coworker wasn’t kidding, though. This guy really was attached to his work.

So much so, in fact, that the only way you found time to meet up with him was by offering to bring takeout to his apartment-turned-lab extension. Not the greatest of impressions, but you could admire his dedication at least. Love your job and you never work a day of your life, right? Wish you could say the same about being a barista.

Standing in front of the door to his apartment with a paper bag of your favorite local Chinese food, you hesitate with your fist prepared to knock on the paint-chipped wood. Something about this feels off. Well, no. A lot of things feel off, if you’re being honest. Maybe you’re just scared of new things. Maybe a part of you still wants to cling to the hope that Adam Warlock will show up again. Maybe this guy is secretly a serial killer, and you’re about to walk into your own demise--

Click!

The door opens before you and you jolt upright. Nate is greeted by your bug-eyed stare and your fist still held up in the air in front of you.

“Hello…?” he greets you with a chuckle. The deep timbre of his voice is quite lovely, but you can’t help but compare it to Adam’s and find it wanting. Come on now, really? Now? “Y/N, right? I saw you on the camera, so--”

“Sorry!” You interrupt him suddenly, eyeing your hand before quickly withdrawing it to your side. “I get nervous with these things. Hardly ever do dates. Never been good at them.” It’s only half of a lie, but it’s the quickest thing you can think of to excuse your awkwardness.

He chortles, a low, rumbling sound in his chest, and gestures around to his own apartment. “I’m not either, clearly. Most people actually leave their house.” A kind smile spreads across his face before he nods for you to come in. “Well, shall we?”

It’s about what you expected from a workaholic scientist. A little messy, with some papers strewn about, but the streaks through the thin layers of dust around the place tell a story of a much messier abode up until recently. The kitchen was barely a kitchen anymore with much of the counter space occupied by various containers and implements.

“I tried to clean up around here before you came over, I swear,” he says in jest as he leads you in. “I get to working and completely lose track of time.” He rubs the back of his neck and gives you a shy yet charming smile.

“No, no, I totally get that,” you reply, setting the bag down on one of the few unoccupied spots of the coffee table. When a moment of awkward silence follows, you decide to bait the conversation with something you know he'll have no trouble talking about. “Working on anything in particular before I got here?”

Hook, line, and sinker, his eyes brighten in an instant. “Yes! I've been studying light waves more intensely as of late.” He plops down onto the couch with a grunt as the cushion bounces him with the sudden weight. “Specifically reflections. What if there was a way to make light tangible?” With his hands on either side of his head, he makes explosion motions with his fingers. Cute. “Of course we have lasers. We have light that can be felt. But if there was a way to take light and turn it into something solid, we could go beyond holograms and--”

He goes on passionately for quite some time. With a tight-lipped yet polite smile, you nod and do your best to keep up. His enthusiasm is something you can appreciate at least. The way he leans familiarly towards you though? Not so much. 

Seated next to him and idly nibbling on an egg roll, you were trying so hard not to zone out and focus on what he was saying that the sudden buzz and chime of your phone startles you firmly back into reality. It's not a long text at all. You're easily able to read it discreetly when the screen lights up. Wait… Why the hell was your coworker texting you now…?

<<Goldie inbound 😬 Sorry!!!>>

Goldie…? What on earth is he talking about?

Before you get the chance to grab your phone and respond properly, you're both surprised to hear a firm knocking against the door. Nate laughs nervously and cocks his head to the side. Clearly, he wasn't expecting an interruption. And judging by the way he presses his mouth into a flat line before chewing on the inside of his lip, he isn't happy about it either.

“Ha… wonder who that could be?” Nate speaks up while feigning a pleasant attitude. You reply with little more than a sympathetic smile and a shrug of your shoulders. 

The knocking grows more insistent with his delay. The vein on Nate’s temple bulges. Quite frankly, the longer you remained in this situation, the more you felt the adrenaline building in your veins. Seems like your gut was right after all, albeit in a bit of a roundabout way.

“I have heard you speak. I know that this abode is occupied.”

Your eyes widen. Goldie, of course. That muffled voice is still recognizable. You'd know it anywhere. A strange mixture of frustration and hope bubbles within your chest. Still, this is what you’ve spent all this time waiting for, is it not?

Nate peers through the peephole and grimaces at what he sees. “Congratulations! You have ears! Now fuck off,” he spits back through the door. The sudden hostility from him is unexpected, and you find yourself reflexively flinching away.

“I cannot fulfill such a request,” the even-toned voice through the door responds.

“Wait!” you pipe in, nearly dropping your food and rushing to the door. “Adam, is that you?” Nate, ever the sharp one, seems to pick up on the almost expectant lilt in your voice. His frown deepens.

“Ah, Y/N… so you remember me still,” the golden man replies coldly, though there is an unmistakable melancholy in his voice. It stings to your core, and you feel your stomach drop. Another part of you begins to prickle with indignance. “Would my entrance be acceptable?”

“No,” Nate bites back. “I don't know who you are, but I certainly didn't invite you over.”

Panic washes over you. You can’t let Adam slip away from you again.

“Just--” you step in, holding your hands up in front of you. “Let me talk to him. I owe him that much.”

Oh, that was clearly the wrong answer. There's a nearly imperceptible twitch of his eye as he forces a smile. “You don't owe him shit. I'm not opening the door.”

Something about that makes you bristle even more than Adam’s earlier response. You square your shoulders and try to push past him. 

“What do you know about what I do or don't owe him? I'm going out there.” Your voice is firm and you stand your ground, your irritated gaze boring into your date.

“Wow. I can’t believe this,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “You came over here to see me, but the second another man shows up, you wanna talk to him instead? And here I thought you were different.”

“Y/N!?” Adam's voice sounds through the door again, but this time the concern is evident.

Oh, that is it. The tip of your forefinger stabs into his chest. Your lip curls. “Fuck. Off.”

“Ooh, scary. Fucking whore,” he replies with a snarl. He pushes you off of him and you stumble backwards into the wall with a thud.

“Y/N!” The golden man's voice bellows, and it's the only warning you both have before the door cracks in protest and flies open, the deadbolt little more than a memory as it clatters to the ground along with splinters of the frame. The door swings violently on its hinges before slamming into the wall just inches away from you and you yelp and scramble away.

And there he is, standing in all his golden glory. Except this is a side of him you've never seen before. Brows that scrunch at the bridge of his nose, perfect white teeth bared, hands balled up into fists. He lurches forward and grabs the collar of Nate's shirt before hoisting him up. 

“How dare you touch her,” he growls between his teeth. Nate tries to scratch and grip Adam's forearm, but he seems completely unfazed. White-gold eyes turn into white-hot embers that threaten to burn through Nate's very soul.

“You fucking psycho!” he ekes out, gritting his teeth as the toes of his shoes scrape and scramble to find purchase on the floor. “What the hell is your problem!?”

“It would seem you are my problem,” he replies flatly despite the fiery anger that still blazes furiously in his gaze.

Your panicked stare flickers back and forth between Adam and Nate. Even if you’re pretty sure you’ll never willingly talk to Nate again (and you’ll be having some choice words with your coworker about his taste in men), you don’t want Adam getting into serious trouble on your account. And, judging by the way Adam’s grip tightens, you know you need to step in before someone gets hurt. Your shaking fingers curl gently around Adam’s bicep.

“Adam… please.” 

Even that simple touch softens him instantly. His facial muscles relax and he regards you instead with an expression of perplexion. That you would even consider such sympathy for a man prepared to physically assault you is not something he can understand. Still, Nate’s shirt falls from his grasp and he falls to the ground, gasping and clutching at where the collar had been digging into his neck.

“I will see you to safety before I leave,” he mutters. The way he keeps his emotional distance from you leaves an aching feeling in your throat. His gaze drifts away from you. “We should go.”

“I’ll… I’ll call the police!” Nate wheezes out from where he kneels. “I know people! You’ll regret that!”

Adam turns as he moves to leave the apartment and stares daggers into him. “You remain unharmed because she wills it.” There is pity in his gaze, the sort of look one gives to a creature so far beneath it that it cannot comprehend how powerless it is in comparison. “If I come to regret this decision, I will not be the one who suffers for it.”

In a miraculous moment of clarity, Nate makes what is perhaps the smartest decision of his entire life and lets his head droop. He balls his fists against the splinter laden carpet and grits his teeth, but he stays his words.

A warm hand rests between your shoulder blades. Warmth like the sun. Warmth that soothes the chill that has lingered in his absence. He guides you out of the apartment and the two of you walk beneath the ochre twilight.

Silence hangs heavy between you.

Once, twice, three times, you glance towards his golden face. His expression remains stoic and unflinching. You can’t bring yourself to speak. These moments are too fragile, fleeting, and one misstep might make him disappear again. Hell, you feel as though you’ve already screwed things up by going on a date with someone else. A deep, resounding ache tugs at your heart in your own disappointment with yourself.

The two of you find yourselves in that same park, though it’s remarkably greener than the last time. Trees bud with the beginnings of blossoms. Verdant blades of grass peek through thawing soil. The somber glow of the setting sun paints it all with an empty warmth.

“This should be far enough,” he finally speaks. He finds it difficult to look at you.

You can’t bear it any longer.

“Adam…” you begin, reaching a tentative hand towards him. You hesitate. Here he is, the man of your dreams, the one you’ve waited so long to see, and yet you fear he might disappear if you were to touch him.

“I ask you to be more careful in the future. That I was able to intervene this day is nothing short of a miracle.” The corner of his mouth twitches with a frown.

Still he refuses to look at you.

“Adam,” you repeat, urgency in your voice as you throw caution to the wind. The palm of your hand finds his cheek. “Look at me. Please.”

You see him flinch, not in response to your touch, but instead your words. Bronze lips part and pout softly.

But those white gold eyes do find yours. That pearlescent gaze swirls with a deep sadness, a longing. A shuddered breath tickles your wrist.

“It hurts,” he breathes. “Why does it hurt?”

You don’t have to ask to know what he means. Nor do you have an answer you feel would satisfy him. Words never feel like enough. Instead, your brow furrows, and the pad of your thumb draws a path along his cheekbone.

“You are safe, and that brings me joy,” he whispers. Tears bead at the corners of his eyes. “Yet when I learned why you were there, I felt only anger. Betrayal.” Misty eyes blink away the tears. “But now… I do not know what I feel.”

Your hand falls from his face, and you swear for a moment he seemed to chase the warmth of it. But he’s right. Even if today’s date was a begrudging one, you had done so knowing the feelings you had shared with the man before you now.

“I’m sorry.” You nearly choke on your own words as you force them past the lump in your throat. “I didn’t--” Gritting your teeth, you look away. Excuses are worth nothing. Still, frustration burns within your chest. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

You’d think you hit him physically with the way he recoils from your words. Of course he was coming back.

“Did our conversation before mean nothing to you?” he asks, his milky eyes going cold. “Do I mean nothing to you?” His words are reckless indulgence, and he knows it, but he can’t bring himself to stop them.

And you can’t stop the rage that burns within you.

“It meant everything to me!” you exclaim. Adam’s eyes widen at your outburst. “You… you left me! Without a word! For weeks!” Tears sting at your eyes. Your fingers curl into a fist as you beat it weakly against his chest. “You… you…”

Your words fade as you choke out a sob. Everything comes flooding back to you all at once, and the waterworks are unstoppable. Your stomach is in knots.

The anger washes away from him leaving only guilt behind. There was no protocol for this, no metaphorical manual for him to follow. Yet at the same time, how could he blame you for feeling abandoned?

“Y/N…”

“Just go,” you snap, pushing him away from you softly. More accurately, you push yourself off of him as he doesn’t budge. 

You didn’t mean it. Not really. But you were angry, scared from your ordeal, and quite frankly overwhelmed by it all. It was easier to let your emotions win right now.

Frankly, Adam was of a similar mind in that matter.

For what else save emotions can explain why he takes you by the shoulders and leans in close? What rational thought might bring him to press soft, metallic lips to your own?

You squeak softly in surprise when he kisses you. Your lips are salty, wet with your tears, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He has to make you understand. You feel as much with the raw emotion he seems to emanate. When he pulls away you’re dazed, leaving a muddled fog over the anger that had just been boiling within you.

Worry knits at his brow as he looks down at you. The last thing he wants to do is overstep, and here he is kissing you without even asking first. “If you still want me to go, I--”

You don’t allow him to finish his sentence, shaking your head at him as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to kiss you again. A gasp of pleasant surprise whispers against your lips before his mouth slants over yours. It’s all so sudden, maybe even a bit crazy, but the warmth of him fills you with such brilliance that no other place than his side feels right.

Needless to say, you weren’t letting him go anywhere any time soon.

[blackcider]

The Bet ep 3

"Harry you can't be serious right now-stop I regretted when I said it." Abraxas said, scowling at the smirk Harry didn't even bother to hide. "I'm seri-not joking. I'm not joking. Are you joking?"

Harry snorted, failing to hide his amusement, "joking? I wish I was in on the joke. I've asked and your fucking house won't answer me." He said with a roll of his eyes.

"There's no way you can't know. The entire school knows-no why am I explaining to you? You should be explaining things to me! Why is it that this is how I find out that you're engaged?! We've known each other since we were children, and you've called me a friend this whole time and you didn't think I was worth telling? I-"

"Brax, I'm going to stop you right there, who said I was engaged? How am I going to get engaged without knowing?"

"What?"

"What?"

"Harry, what do you mean?"

"What do I mean? What do you mean?? Who said that I'm 'engaged' what are you talking about?"

"You're not?"

"Abraxas..."

Harry watched as the blonde face quickly turned red.

"You're not engaged?" Abraxas squeaked-not that he'd ever admit it-out.

Harry paused a moment, taking in the visage and the body language of the boy in from of him.

"Don't tell me your house hates me because of a false engagement. No forget that. Why are they so mad about it?"

"...well they think that you have..."

"What? Abraxas speak up, mate."

"They think you moved on from Tom too quickly, ok?! They think you're a slag because less than three months after breaking up with Tom, you've become engaged to someone else." Abraxas said in one breath, his voice become nothing more than a whisper at the end.

"Riddle? This is about Riddle?" Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes. Of course, this was about Tom Riddle. A hair out of place on Riddle's head was news worthy for the Syltherins.

"I don't get why, though?" Harry continued, half the puzzle was solved now that he knew the main culprit but the other half..

"He broke up with me. In front of the entire school. On the last day of term. Does your lot not remember this?" The exacerbation clearly evident in his tone. Really. Why did he have to deal with this shit at the beginning of the year. NEWT year should be about the bloody NEWTs.

"Yes I know but-"

"No why does that ever matter? It's not like we ever even actually dating!"

"Excuse me?"

The two whirled around to the new voice that had entered their private conversation. A low groan left Harry lips as the familiar voice merged with the stone faced boy behind them.

"Riddle."

Fuck.

[504py]

Candlelight and Calluses - Knight!Leon Kennedy/Reader

A particularly unruly thunderstorm begs you to ask your knight to stay by your bedside, just for a little bit.

i see quite a bit of bodyguard leon fics so i always thought he'd fit into a knight au rather well. art by me!!

Historical inaccuracies, I'm terrible at old-timey speak LOL, reader referred to as "my lady" but no other gendered terms or descriptors besides that, no use of Y/N, relationship is dubious so this could be seen as platonic, romantic, or however you'd like.

1, 2, 3

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

It seemed like life would continue like normal after your former knight was discharged for stealing from your mother, and Leon came to replace him. He definitely feels more trained, more skilled, more refined, someone very reliable, so you can see how he was hired so quickly.

Somehow, you just can't get used to his presence, though.

You see him at very scheduled times of day. He sleeps in a room close to yours, mother said its safer to have him closer at night in case someone breaks in. If you're awake early enough, you can catch him leaving his room. You see him training in the courtyard through the window you pass by when you head to the kitchen. He always escorts you to your bedroom and says goodnight when you decide to call it a day, and stays posted near your door for a few minutes, before retreating to his own for the night.

Tonight, you ask him to stay just a little longer. Rainy days never really bothered you, but the thunder today was particularly bad. It was painfully loud and booming, each strike and roar making you flinch in the anticipation that the ceiling might cave in on you any moment and swallow you whole. You knew he was there to protect you, that's the main reason he was here, but your cheeks burned at the loss of your pride when you give him your request.

His expression, illuminated by the lantern in his hand and highlighting the sharp planes of his visage, is slightly different than usual at your query. His dark eyebrows are slightly raised, the frown on his lips not as deep as it usually is. His eyes are softer.

"Of course, my lady."

You head inside your bedroom, your sight settling on your nightwear set on your bed by one of your maids. You turn to Leon, asking that he leave while you change, but his back is already turned to you. You figure he got the hint, and you undress.

He's listening intently to the sounds of cloth shuffling, till he hears your weight dip your mattress, "Have you finished dressing, my lady?"

"Yes, I'm all done." You reply. Your voice is weaker than usual, perhaps scared that the thunderstorm will hear, and a crackling boom will respond, instead of Leon.

He turns back to you, seeming to pause for a moment, thinking of what to do. You've never seen him do that, perhaps this situation is new to him. That thought makes your face warm in shame.

"I... Shall I stay in the room, or shall I stay at my post, milady?" His voice is quieter than it usually is, too. Admittedly, it's a little hard to hear each other with how loud the rain is.

"If... If it would be alright, Sir Leon, could you stay by the side of my bed? Just until the storm subsides. I'd hate to keep you here for too long."

"It is no trouble to me, my lady, I promise."

He makes his way over to you, confidence in each step despite being so unfamiliar with such a strange, intimate request.

"...You can grab that chair by my vanity, Sir Leon, you don't have to stand."

He obliges, grabbing said chair and setting it by your bed.

He's dressed in a simple cream-colored linen blouse and trousers. You can see his neck. You breathe out a laugh realizing that this is probably the first time you've ever seen it. He wonders what you find amusing. You rarely ever see him without any armor on, maybe just a glimpse when he leaves his room in the morning, and even when he's not in full steel plating, he's usually donning chainmail.

"...Is it heavy?" You mumble, drowsily.

"What is, my lady?"

"The armor you wear. Is it heavy, Sir Leon?"

"Well... Not particularly, milady, but perhaps I've just gotten used to it. It does get hot, though."

"Mm..." You hum, "Always wanted to try it on, always wondered what it was like... I know mother and father won't let me, though." You chuckle.

Leon smiles a little, maybe the first time you've seen him do so. "Maybe I'll let you try on my helmet someday, milady."

"Really?" The drowsy smile you send him makes him feel warmer, "That'd be nice... I always thought the armor you knights wore looked so fashionable." Your eyes close.

He laughs slightly, and the sound is clearer now. Without realizing, the storm had passed, and you feel at ease. Leon waits a little longer, counting your breaths and seeing if your eyes will open again. He thinks the way your eyelashes rest against your cheeks look beautiful.

"Sir Leon?" You mumble, barely legible.

"Yes, milady?"

"Have a good night..." You add, before dozing off.

"You as well, my lady. Good night."

He waits a few minutes more, like he usually does when he escorts you to your door. He's never watched you sleep before, despite this being part of his nightly routine. He wishes a little more that thunderstorms would happen more habitually so he could do this more often.

Leon gets up, and quietly places your chair back to your vanity. He returns to take his lantern from your bedside table, and he pauses, watching you for a few beats more, before retreating to his bedroom for the night.

"...Calling me just Leon would be fine." He ends, with a whisper of your name.

𓈒⠀𓂃⠀⠀˖⠀𓇬⠀˖⠀⠀𓂃⠀𓈒

[chronicallyonline101]

hiiii!!! if u feel like writing it i would love to request some rohan x fem reader headcanons or scenario where rohan's gf is also an artist but she's way more inexperienced than him. ty <3333

hi!!! i would love to do this it sounds so sweet! I am SO sorry for the wait, i've been pretty busy, BUT it's here now and i hope you enjoy!

Kishibe Rohan x Fem!Reader || Scenario + HCs - mostly scenario.

As much as it pains him to see you desecrate art in the way you do, I think Rohan would enjoy being with someone who is inexperienced in art.

Thanks to his career, and his stand, Rohan is naturally one of the best people there is at this kind of thing - people compliment him for it all the time, but it's special when it comes from someone he loves.

He wants your approval, and thanks to your inexperience, you're full of it; every time he creates something you're clapping your hands and singing praise and he devours it every single time.

However, it may be a little frustrating for him when you do start dabbling in the world of craft because wow, you really are new to this. That painting of a dog looks like a deformed cow.

He would offer to teach you, and you'd accept; but that would quickly fall down the drain because he has a very specific way of drawing - using Heavens Door - that literally no one else on Earth could achieve.

He also believes his art style is the best, and would try to convince you to use that instead of learning your own style.

But anyways, I can't think of any more HCs so lets just get on with what I'm good at - THE SCENARIO:

There was something so calming about art - the craft, the technique, the aptitude; each fine brush of paint against canvas, a blotch of ink to paper. It was soothing, and you felt silly for having only just picked up the hobby.

It was nice knowing that even with your inexperience, you could still create. And that's what you had been doing, that very afternoon - though late into the day, the sun continued to hang high in the air. Gentle golden rays of shimmering light flittered through your open window, splaying itself across your splattered canvas.

A smile settled across your lips at the sight, pressing a thin brush to the fabric for the last, small details. The lighting was perfect, displaying a visage of your boyfriend in the elegance he deserved - while you dipped your brush into a cup of water to clean it, you found yourself hoping that the sun would remain once you had made it to his place.

Yesterday, you had bought a fresh set of utensils; it had taken some brief self-encouragement, but in the late hours of the night you had picked them up and started sketching. With no real motif in mind, it hadn't surprised you to find a portrait of your partner sat before you. He had the face of a model; the kind of looks that were easy to detail, and though you hadn't slept a single wink last night, your efforts had paid off now that the work was done.

This was probably your best piece yet. Eagerly, you plucked the portrait from it's frame, wrapped it in thin, grease-proof paper to stop it from smudging, and tucked it into a large portfolio bag.

It took you no time at all to throw a jacket over your shoulders and slip out of the door - though the sun was high and the air was warm, there was a small breeze that flittered through the air, dragging along with it small, dry leaves and puffy clouds of pollen, a sign that soon, Spring would find itself curling around Morioh.

On a usual day, you'd likely find yourself bumping into a few friends or acquaintances on your way through the small town, but today you weren't bothered much. You supposed most of your friends would still be in work - blessed as you were to have a job that didn't involve a commute. It took you only a few minutes to reach your boyfriends house, and with a giddy smile held the large portfolio behind your back as you knocked at the door.

Kishibe Rohan didn't like being bothered.

Unless he was expecting someone, the likelihood of him opening his door to a random knocker was low; there was simply no need to. If it was urgent, they could call his landline.

When it came to you, however, he didn't mind being bothered. Living only a few minutes down the street from him, the two of you would frequently visit each others houses - you, more so coming to him than he did to you. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy visiting you, he was just always so busy during the day with his work and he knew that you would definitely come to him if you needed company.

Such is why you had a special knock - you would rap your first against the door in a particular rhythm, a melody unique to you, and he would recognise immediately who it was at his door.

Stuck in a block of what to do for his manga; hearing you knock at his door brought forth relief in his soul. As frustrating as it was to take a break from his important work, he at least at the restraint to recognise that perhaps a break was needed.

He wasn't sure what to expect when opening the front door to his house, but, seeing you try - and fail - to hide a rather large portfolio bag behind your back was not it. He eyed you up and down, growing sceptical.

"And what is that?" He inquired, tilting his body forward - a weak attempt at trying to see inside the bag. You quickly caught onto his snooping, and shifted the bag out of his view.

"Just wait," Was your gleeful chirp, ushering him aside so that you could flitter inside his house. Kicking off your shoes by the front door so that you could at least retain some semblance of respect, you quickly made your way past his stairs and into the main living area.

Startled, it took him a moment to clip the door shut once you had entered. He eyed you through his peripherals, before moving toward the kitchen.

"I'll put on some tea then."

"Oh, yes please!" You called out. With him distracted, you made swift work of unwrapping the portrait you had made - setting it up so that the fabric canvas was leant against the top of his coffee table.

It took a few seconds of setting up, but eventually, you had everything perfect. The canvas was angled in such a way that it bathed in the suns radiant glow. You stood in front of the picture, facing the doorway to the room; a cocky grin splayed itself across your lips when Rohan re-entered the room, a tray of tea clutched tightly in his hands.

He paused in the doorway. There was still a lilt of suspicion to his glare - he was unsure of what you were doing, but knew that you were up to something.

Slowly edging his way further into the room, Rohan placed the tray of tea on a table near the couch - a different one from the one you had been using for your artwork.

He crossed his arms over his chest, and with his brows furrowed, cocked his head to the side. "Can I see now?"

Giggling, you uttered out a jovial: "Yes!" And took a step to the side, allowing Rohan a full view of your artwork. "Look, I made you;"

Upon hearing that you had taken the time to make a portrait of him, Rohan's eyes lit up - he was a vain man, and the thought that you had been thinking of him enough to craft a portrait in his image pleased him greatly.

However, his excitement was quick to fade when he lay his gaze across the artwork. "Oh-!"

He gasped, his expression turning sour - the kind of sour where he had to bite his cheeks to stop himself from saying anything unsavoury. "Uh, that's... me?"

"Mhm! Do you like it?" You nodded your head, eager to hear his praises - It would be obvious that Rohan was exceptional at art, and so, you sought his approval more than anyone else's. His silence proved to be discouraging.

"It's certainly," He wanted to praise you, he really did. But, it was just so unflattering! Did you even look at a reference when you were making it, or were you doing it from memory? Or worse, did you have a pixelated polaroid? He couldn't even call it abstract, it was worse than that!

He swallowed thickly. "Well... it's,"

Your expression dropped, turning narrow the longer it took him to muster up a compliment. You crossed your arms over your chest, and with a huff, spoke out dully:

"I spent all night on it."

"Did you sleep last night?" His gaze flickered from the portrait to you. There wasn't concern in his tone, what you did in your spare time didn't bother him - you were an adult, and knew better than to stay awake late at night. He wasn't going to police you around like a parent.

When you shook your head, he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Ah... that explains it,"

His attitude was infuriating you. You had spent an entire night on that painting, and he couldn't even think of one nice thing to say? You were sure if you took it to anyone else, they would compliment it - but of course, you just had to try and impress the great and amazing Kishibe Rohan.

"Explains what?" You grumbled, rolling your eyes to the side sarcastically. He didn't take kindly to your sass, but spoke nothing on the matter.

Instead, he walked to the other side of the room. Prying open a set of drawers to pull out a small, A-4 notebook and a thin ink-pen. Your eyes followed his lithe figure as he walked back toward you, narrowing in suspicion when he then sat on the couch; moving a pillow out the way so you could sit next to him. You didn't give in to what he wanted.

"You mustn't spent all night on these things," He reprimanded, frowning when he realised you were being petty. He was only trying to teach you: "It wears you out. You need to take breaks to ensure your skill doesn't deplete."

You said nothing on the matter. Huffing in disapproval. You didn't need to be taught, you just wanted appraisal - when he realised you weren't coming, he rolled his eyes and repeated a small:

"Look, come here," But offered no chance for you to move of your own accord. An invisible force seemed to push you forward, guiding you rather forcefully toward the couch where you were then plonked down.

Before you could even register what was happening, you found yourself flushing. His hand had coiled its way around your back and he held your hand with his, slipping the ink-pen between your fingers. He used your hand as a sort of puppet; pressing the tip of the pen to the paper gently.

With his lips close to your ear, Rohan murmured a quiet: "I'll show you how." You were flustered, but made no move to stop him - maybe your inexperience was a good thing after all.

[comesatimecomesashadow]

frayed synapses *ೃ༄

ׂ╰┈➤ . . . you're reading part iv.

cw *ೃ༄ mentions of injuries/scars + insecurity about them, descriptions of poor mental health/social anxiety

summary *ೃ༄ with the burden of job-related stress weighing on your back, you decide to unwind at a local pub. yet instead of relaxation, you find out that your neighbor is none other than Simon RIley, a member of the military. after making the decision to clumsily ask him to have tea with you after an embarrassing first impression, you find that underneath Simon Riley's hardened, stone-cold façade, is a man who desperately seeks an end to the turmoil that plagues him.

note *ೃ༄ sorry for the late update, i was fighting demons (crippling depression), enjoy !

masterlist | series masterlist | prev . . next

“I didn’t think i’d being seein’ you after..” 

“I know.” your eyes were trained on the client’s face in front of you, a calm look washed over your visage as you faced the same person that gave you the scar on your forearm. “Did you hope you wouldn’t see me again? I understand our last conversation was distressing for you.” You spoke with a welcoming tone. It made you anxious to even be in the room with them, but they were someone in need. A person with anger issues was still a person underneath. 

“I.. yeah. I guess you could say that I just.. What you said made me feel like..” She mulled it over in her mind as if she was trying to find the right words to say to you. It was clear she felt remorse for her actions which was a good thing. “-like.. I don’t know, it just hurt, it made me angry that you pointed shit like that out, like it's supposed to be obvious.” 

You heard her words and gazed into her guilt-ridden blue eyes. What came next made them wide, as if she’d just witnessed something completely other-worldly. “I’m sorry.” you said. With the most sincere voice you possessed, you apologized to her. 

“Why are you apologizing? ..I’m the one who did that to you..!” She gestured to your forearm and a glossy layer of water covered her eyes. All you did was hand her a tissue as if her crying didn’t bother you at all — because it didn’t. It was normal, in fact, it was healthy. “I should be apologizing to you…” she muttered as she wiped her tears. 

“I’m apologizing to you because I hurt you,” you said simply, “You deserve to be treated like a person, with respect and without judgement.” 

“It was wrong, what I did.” She was sure of her statement but used it as more of a weapon to refute your statement than an acknowledgement. 

“It was and I'm proud of you for admitting that. It's a hard thing to apologize when you’ve done something wrong- It requires a type of vulnerability that you’ve mentioned you’re not used to.” you explained her feelings to her with a soothing tone, encouraging her to keep going on in her journey. “My only job is to help you get better and I understand that confronting these types of feelings is never easy, but I want you to keep trying, alright?” 

She only nodded, a few more tears slipping out. 

“You’ve come a long way from where you were at a year ago. Healing is never linear and you may go back to old patterns every now and then, but it will never erase the amount of progress you’ve achieved as long as you keep trying.” She nodded again at your reassuring words but with a smile on her face this time. 

“Yeah, I.. Thank you.” She clutched the used tissue and tucked it into her pocket. 

You looked at the time on your watch and offered a small smile. “Our time’s up unfortunately, but I'll see you again this time next week. Alright?” 

“Yeah, that’s fine.” She got up and smiled at you before leaving the room. Once the door closed you were left standing in the cold room. With a heavy sigh, you collected your things and headed out of the old building. The prison you worked at wasn’t new, it had been around for decades but the atmosphere was anything but dreary, in fact it was quite lively. Most of the inmates knew who you were and didn’t really bother to pay much mind to you, which was perfect given how much of a recluse you were outside of your job. They never said much more than a greeting or a farewell and it was rare that they started conversations with you. You interacted more with the staff since you worked alongside them in a sense but the interactions weren’t anything special. 

Needless to say, your work life was pretty mundane. 

Much like your personal life — but it wasn't as if you were actively searching for something to change. You’d spent your life looking for stability and now that you had it, you were satisfied, at least that’s what you wanted to convince yourself of. Sure it got a little lonely every now and then but that was normal. You didn’t need anything else — or anyone else for that matter. 

Yet when you climbed up those familiar crimson carpet stairs and were greeted by the sight of a very familiar man standing in front of the door to the flat next to yours, it made an unknown warm feeling settle in your chest. You debated on whether or not to say something to your neighbor — To Simon — but you decided against it. What if he didn’t want to speak to you? He was probably tired from work anyway. You walked up to your door and juggled the keys in your hands looking for the right one. Just as you found your house key, a gruff voice — belonging to Simon —  grabbed your attention. 

“Afternoon.” he greeted awkwardly. 

You turned your head towards him slowly, not expecting a man — who was evidently closed off —  to start a conversation with you. Sure you got to know more about him and vice versa during the time the two of you spent at the coffee shop, but nothing had changed — he was still only your neighbor, just as you were to him. Even if your heart yearned for human connection, your brain kept denying you of it. A defense mechanism at its finest, as if it was infused within you like the blood in your veins. “Afternoon.” you hastily took off your earphones to give him your full attention. Gazing upon him for a moment, you noticed the way his dark-blonde hair relentlessly shined in the dim light of the hallway. Simon’s visage carried remnants of the eyeblack he presumably used for his job, it made him look dirty and tired — but you still smiled. “Did you just get back?” 

“Yeah, work n’ that.” he vaguely explained, “Sorry for leavin’ so abruptly.” 

You gingerly shook your head, “S’fine, wasn’t anything too important to be apologizing about anyway.” Your eyes remained locked on his as the two of you stood in the hallway. The both of you taking in the fact that you were in front of one another once again as if it was an other-worldly experience. 

“Guess so,” Simon said simply as he turned to you fully. “How’s the arm?” His eyes broke away from yours momentarily to glance at your still bandaged arm. Was he concerned about it? About you?

“Better than the last time we met,” you chuckled, “Finally got the stitches out, hurt a bit though.” Your comment made him chuckle. As a soldier, he was used to the feeling of removing stitches all too well. It took you a while to register that this was the first time you’ve seen him without his black surgical mask on. Simon’s face wasn’t littered with scars, but many of them were present — not uncommon for someone in his line of work. 

“When are you gettin’ the bandages off?” he asked you, an interested lilt to his voice as he did. 

“Friday this week at three. Why do you ask?” Your fingers ghosted over the bandages absentmindedly. The injury didn’t hurt much anymore but you did wonder if it would leave a scar. Simon’s eyes drifted from yours as if he was considering something but words failed to leave him. 

“No reason, just askin’.” 

“Alright then,” there was something off about his answer but you didn’t push. Clutching your folder closer to your chest as you inserted your key into the door and pushed it open you bid him a quiet, “Have a good afternoon, Simon.” The tall blond only nodded without a word as he watched you disappear into the comfort of your flat once more. He could burn holes into your door with the way he was intently staring at your close door with regret. Regret that despite his years, he still couldn’t form normal human connection outside of work. 

The key felt cold in his hand as he pushed it into the lock, his flat felt foreign — empty. There was barely any furnishings in it except for what was absolutely necessary: a couch in the living room, a widescreen television on the wall in front of it, his bed which sat lonely in his bedroom next to a nightstand that rarely held anything in it, stools that sat bare in front of the kitchen island. . .  He didn’t feel the need to decorate since he was always gone, but the bare walls and the popcorn ceiling of his apartment made him wonder about yours. 

What did yours look like? 

Did you have pictures on the walls? Were you the type to take care of plants? You did smell of lavender sometimes.. Was your living room lively? Was your room a silent reflection of you and your interests? There were so many questions that swirled in his mind as he left his keys hanging on the backside of the door and got settled. Questions that he hoped he’d get the answers to. 

If only he had the guts to try and get to know you. 

.

.

.

Work once again began to consume your life and you couldn’t be happier. 

It wasn’t too hard to fall back into the rhythm of things after the incident. Offering tissues to clients, helping them work through their deep-seated issues, talking about their daily lives, what their lives were like before imprisonment; It was all good work. The week passed by like a flash thankfully and soon enough came the time when the bandages would come off. When your doctor had first tended to your wound she notified you that it was likely to leave a scar — Shanks made from scratch in a jail cell weren’t exactly the best thing to be cut with. At the time, you could care less as long as you were alive. Now that the familiar white strips of bandage were gone, the lighter patch of skin shone through. 

You didn’t know what to think of it, to say the least. 

Your eyes spent a great deal of time just gazing upon the scar on your arm after your appointment. Though the TV was on in front of you playing a random sitcom, your mind was elsewhere. The lifted patch of skin on your arm bothered you. It was like a living reminder of your stupidity — it almost taunted you with the way it stood out. A frustrated sigh made its way from your throat as you got up from the couch and threw on a comfortable hoodie. 

Maybe a walk would clear your head. 

You grabbed your box of toothpicks and slipped the black stick in between your lips, stuffing the box in the back pocket of your jeans as you made your way out of your flat. When you pulled the warm key from the lock and turned to walk out, you almost jumped out of your skin upon seeing your neighbor next to you. He was lucky you didn’t shriek from the surprise of it. 

“Simon!” you whisper-yelled. Your hand flew over your chest as you leaned against your door to regain your composure. “What the hell are you doing?” 

“Goin’ for a run.” he said simply as if he didn’t almost cause you a heart attack. “Didn’t mean t’scare you. Sorry.” A sliver of a smile made its way onto his face. Simon was used to being intimidating because of his height and the fact that he was a high-ranking soldier. Usually, he wasn’t fazed by shocked reactions but seeing you genuinely startled by him was a little funny — considering you’d proved yourself to be extremely observant. 

A deep breath settled into your lungs while you straightened up. “Is that a habit of yours?? You almost gave me a heart attack..!” Granted, you were still a little shaken but at least it took your mind off things, specifically the scar that seemed to itch endlessly. 

Simon only peered down at you, a calmer look upon his face. “You ok?” his voice was as gruff as always. 

“Yeah, I’m fine- you said you were going out for a run? At this hour?” Somehow, you knew how to make a conversation feel as natural as breathing which made it easier for Simon to ease into your presence. It was something he could do mindlessly with you, he noticed. 

“Yeah. What are you doin’ out this late? S’pretty dangerous to be out.” The dingy light in the hallway flickered and the air was stale but you wouldn’t have it any other way. Being here, with him — talking to him — felt like a much needed release. It was astonishing how a simple exchange of words with him was akin to a taste of the finest water. You wondered how long you could preserve the stream this time. 

“Guess so,” you shrugged, biting on the toothpick mindlessly with your molars, “I just needed a distraction I guess.” You adjusted yourself to lean against the wall, your vision torn away from Simon’s visage. He guessed it was something you didn’t feel like talking about. 

So he didn’t ask; He only leaned up against the wall beside you. “. . .D’you wanna go on a walk?” His dusty auburn irises could see the ghost of a smile on your lips, a genuine one. 

“Are you asking me to join you?” 

He looked around, then back at you. "Well you don't see anyone else round here, do you?” 

You chuckled, “You’ve got jokes.” 

“I’ll tell you some more if it’ll get that frown off you.” Simon snickered when he said it but you felt his words to be genuine, just masked under a joking tone. Maybe Simon had the capacity to worry for you after all, no matter how much sense it didn’t make to you. After all, you were just his neighbor. 

Nothing more. 

You pushed yourself off the wall and Simon followed after you. “Wasn’t frowning.” 

“Was too.” 

You wondered then, as you walked down the carpeted stairs beside him, if you could preserve this endless flow of natural, unfiltered, dialogue. In the comfortable silence that settled between the pair of you, the thought of keeping this night close to your heart seemed more enticing by the minute. 

taglist *ೃ༄ . . . @dwkfan . . @savannahsomething . . @thatghostlykid . .

© 2025 comesatimecomesashadow

[carnal-lnstinct]

hi renee hi!! For the event, I'm curious about how you'd write yandere!goku 👀 in my mind, he'd be villainous while still remeaning his easy going and cheery self, but I wanna see your take on him! What would he do to have his beloved all by himself, you know? Thank you, I adore you!

〖 GOKU X READER 〗 ✦✦Content: M/18+. MINORS DNI. possessive!farmer goku, established friendship / coworkers, secret pining.  ✦✦Warning: yandere character trope. implied murder. canon-typical violence. blood

He’s been bad again, forgetting his virtues in favor of an impulsive and selfish retribution.

He has been changed because of you. It’s fine, of course, what you don’t know has never hurt your image of him in your eyes. You’re just friends, after all. His friendly visage is not allowed to be different from the man you’ve been working the farm with, he isn’t in a position to show he wants more from you. Yet you being friendly with other men makes his jaw clench. The smile he wears so easily becomes a strain to hold onto.

Goku is always good at reading another’s intentions and he sensed nothing but a greedy, one-sided motive in the eyes of the farmhand you were currently talking to. Just another face at the farmer’s market whose come to try and get with you. Another self-serving jerk whose cock drove his actions when struck by your alluring presence. He could see all the signs in the man’s body language, and though the saiyan outwardly smiled in his cheeky, playful way, letting you know he’d finish loading the trailer himself, the crates were cracking under his grip. Goku’s nails carved into the wood as he walked the unsold vegetables back toward his tractor—nothing in his mind but the perverse intent of the farmhand drooling over you.

No one should be allowed to think of you that way. He doesn’t even know you. He just wants to put his dirty dick in you. And you’re laughing at his corny jokes, you’re laughing with him. Like you want him...

The saiyan lets out a deep breath after setting down the now fragile crate.

You hear the trailer bed shut loudly letting you know that Goku finished packing the rest of the vegetables. After you bid farewell to the friendly market stranger, you approach the tractor to find Goku nowhere in sight. He finished for sure, but you didn’t see that familiar head of spiky locks anywhere. You waited a bit and leaned against the tractor as you glanced over your surroundings. A sound hits your ear from a distance but it doesn’t linger in the air long enough to be deciphered. It must be a bird.

You waited for as long as you could but then figured Goku must have gotten caught up speaking with someone else in the farmer’s market too.

As you push off the tractor and turn to leave you bump into Goku suddenly approaching you, the saiyan fumbling with a crate of beets before successfully steadying them. You didn’t see him coming at all, you didn’t even hear him coming, but you apologize profusely for your neglectful eye as he only laughs it off.

“It's no problem. Thanks for not leaving without me.” He humored, crossing in front of you and making his way over to the attached trailer. 

“What’s that on your hands?”

After setting down the beets, Goku looked over the back of his hand and saw the red stains smeared around his knuckles, a drip flowing down the pinky side of his wrist. He smiles at it and gives you a slight giggle, answering.

“Beet juice.” He punctuated his casual lie by giving the stain a lick and playing up a sour reaction. “Guess one’s rotting.”

He’s been very bad again.

None the wiser, you giggle at his misfortune and shake your head. “Guess we better hurry and get those on ice. Are you sure we got everything?”

“Yep! Unless you’re lookin’ to bring your new friend.” Goku teases, making you fold your arms at the playful jab unable to resist grinning at it.

“No luck for me here. We did exchange numbers, but I’m not holding my breath on it. I never hear back from anyone I meet here. Guess you’re stuck with me a little longer, boss.”

Goku’s smile slowly grows wider. Another day that starts and ends with just the two of you. “I already told ya, you can just call me Goku. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

[yandere-daydreams]

Back from the TMA ask. It's just so interesting to see characters that are like pure evil and acknowledge it and just like...don't care y'know. It's a lot darker when it's not some guy's will slowly crumbling. Reasons why Elias is so sexy (aside from his voice) is because he never hides from his horrifying nature. Just a little once over and a 'yes and? 🤨'. Always watching all knowing.

Also I've loved Michael and Helen spiral. Just the spiral as a concept has so much to play with. Someone who changes faces sometimes right before your eyes other times without you knowing. A thing that's hard to look at but is always in your sights. Getting up to go to the bathroom one day and then finding out that there's no longer a way to leave. A new phobia of yellow doors lol.

It's also a funny thought of like staying up late or doing something elias finds annoying and he 'sees' you, so out of the blue you get a one worded text to stop.

fdklsjf i know it goes violently against the source material but there's just something about a monster who specifically likes being monstrous, who delights in the fact that to gaze upon their visage is to lose your mind one mismatched, elongated trait at a time, taking such an interest in a human they don't plan to immediately kill. there's a man in your house and he says he's your boyfriend and you can't stand to look at him without vomiting. you wake up every morning to another door or window missing and you're terrified that one day, you'll run out. his mere presence is slowly edging you the brink of insanity, meanwhile michael is kicking his feet and making friendship bracelets for his new favorite human :)

and elias is,,,, it might be because i just listened to his whole 'i'm an evil creepy eye-man but i am also still legally your boss' reveal episode, but there's something that captivates me about the fact that he'll frame his employee for murderer, stalk the aforementioned employee for weeks to drip-feed him information on how to stop an upcoming apocalypse he doesn't personally care for, and then make him fill out a return to work form when he gets over his 'on the run from the law' phase. he would tell you explicitly that he's been watching your every waking (and sleeping) moment since the moment he met you and has bound you to him in ways too cosmic for you to so much as imagine, but has no plans to actively pursue you romantically because HR is very strict about relationships between higher-ups and their inferiors and he doesn't want to do all that paperwork. he's fine with dooming as many people as it takes to fed the bottomless stomach that is his patron's desire, but workplace harassment? that's a step too far don't you think :\

[maturemenoftvandfilms]

A Conversation with Cardinal Dolan

CHAPTER THREE:

Featuring the Archbishop of New York, Cardinal Timothy Dolan

My name is Michael Thomas, and I'm Cardinal Timothy Dolan's lover. If you read the first two installments to this story, you learned that during an interview for the NY Times, I seduced Cardinal Dolan and found in him, after some initial reluctance, a very willing lover. One day I was home, received a telephone call. It was Cardinal Dolan and he asked if come over. He explained that he needed my help on something. I told him I'd be there right away, arriving at his mansion on Madison Avenue 30 minutes later. His receptionist greeted me, told me His Eminence was expecting me and to go right in. I knocked before opening and calling out "Your Eminence… Cardinal Dolan?"

"I'm here. Come on in Michael." Came the reply from his office. I walked in, and there he sat at his huge oak desk wearing a clerical collar with a suitcoat. I was already beginning to tent my jeans.

"Thank you for coming." He said.

I told him it wasn't a problem, and that I'm always here for him. He told me his assistant went home early due to a migraine and needed someone to help him film his segments from his show. And knowing I do something similar, he called me. Of course I agreed to help and got behind the camera and started filming. The whole time I took in his visage, and the lust was coursed through my veins. I knew he was priest. The famous Archbishop of New York, but I wanted him. Bad.

So once we were finished, I walked around to his chair and sat on his lap like I was a little kid. Before he could question this, I kissed him hard on the mouth with a little tongue thrown in. I was hot and raring to go, and sitting in the lap of this man was quite intoxicating to me.

"Michael, not here. What are you thinking?" A surprise Cardinal Dolan said. Despite his protest I could feel the substantial bulge at his crotch. I responded by putting my arms around him and burying my face in his neck. He gasped, and said "What… Martha is right out side… this isn't right."

"Relax Your Eminence, she won't come in unannounced." I said sitting in the archbishop's lap, with my arms around him taking in all of the sensations bombarding my senses. The smell of his after shave-scented skin, the soft yet firm feel of his warm body, the soft wool of the suit he was wearing, and his hard-on poking at my ass. It was all too much as I kissed him hard and placing his hand on my erection.

He quickly directed me to lock the office door. I got up from his lap and did as he asked. I came back and knelt before him in his chair, placing my hands gently on his upper legs and savoring the feel of this beautiful man. Finally, unable to take it anymore, I reached for the bulge in his pants, and he gasped in pure pleasure. I had to have his cock. I reached up and undid the bottom buttons on his clergy rabat. This gave me clear access to his crotch as I ran my hand over the bulge once more noting its size. I then unfastened his pants, unbuttoned the bottom buttons of his dress shirt exposing his belly, reached into his boxers, and extracted my 8 inches long, uncut, and beautiful prize.

Looking at him with eyes filled with love, lust, and longing, while running my hands up and down the shaft of his cock and teasing the head with my thumbs, Cardinal Dolan moaned and shivered. I finally could take no more, darted forward and took the head of his cock in my mouth, tasting the precum that was collecting there. I then went down and deep throated him, making him moan again with more intensity. I went down on him with everything I had, sucking as though my life depended on it.

"So… good…" Cardinal Dolan moaned.

I went at this for some time, noting his rapid breathing and increasing excitement. All too soon his cock burst forth with a sizable load, filling my mouth. I was in heaven, and was rewarded with several more sweet spurts of his delicious cream. Cardinal Dolan slumped back in his chair, clearly satisfied as I reached up and worked his balls trying to get every bit.

As I I stood up and jerked my boxer shorts down. My long fat dick sprung up and stood straight out from my body. It was so hard it was throbbing. Noting my strong erection, he then reciprocated, going down on it like a seasoned pro as I enjoyed watching this man in his clerical garb on his knees sucking me off. After teasing me and prolonging the excitement, I was desperate to fuck him.

"Take off your pants and underwear. Leave everything else on and bend over your desk." I said as I pulled my cock out of his mouth and pulled him to his feet.

I was never hornier than I was at that time, seeing this man in his clerical shirt and collar bending over his desk bare-assed with nothing else on but socks. I quickly removed my clothes and reached for the lube I kept in case such occasion should arise, and lubed my cock. I then started lubing his hole, putting first one finger, and then two in him. He moaned and shuddered. The time had arrived. I pressed my cock against his hole and slowly pushed in. He gasped and asked me to take it slow. I obliged, giving him time to get used to me before proceeding further. Finally, after some time I was balls deep in the archbishop's ass.

I then began to thrust slowly, eliciting sounds of pleasure. I was ecstatic as I pulled him in close and started to pick up the pace, hearing him gasp. I braced myself against him, and really got into it. He grunted in pure pleasure, and it was fascinating to feel his large body tremble with each thrust. I was consumed with lust, and became an animal. I reached around to find his erect cock, and began stroking it in time with my thrusts. Soon he came, shooting his load on the desk in front of him.

Now wanting to see his face as I fucked him, I pulled out, cleared off the desk, and lifted him on top. I told him to spread his legs and pressed myself between his legs, rubbing my erection against his cock. I was savoring the feel of him, with my arms wrapped around him and my head laying on his shoulder. I told him to wrap his legs around me, and immediately began probing with my fingers and cock for his hole. I found it, and once again penetrated him and began fucking him. His cock had come back to life, poking into my belly. I was more excited than I had ever been as I eagerly thrust into him. He was really gasping and moaning in pure pleasure as I picked up the pace.

"Take me, yes… take me, fuck me harder." Cardinal Dolan moaned.

This was all the invitation I needed as I wrapped my arms around him tighter while fucking him at an increasingly harder pace. It was so erotic, feeling his large solid body tremble with the force of each thrust. It was so erotic, feeling his large solid body tremble with the force of each thrust. He was moaning and babbling incoherently with pleasure, while his cock left trails of precum all over my belly. I continued at this pace for what seemed like eons. I never wanted this to end, ever. However all good things must come to an end, and I exploded inside him. Burst after burst of semen coated his insides and this caused a second orgasm from him, shooting a another load all over my abdomen.

We lay there breathing hard and totally spent, but satisfied.

[admrlthundrbolt]

Love From The Other Side (Bowser x Chubby Reader)

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Your kingdom had recently come on dire time. With the Koopa Kingdom having a vast army. Well who was Bowser to deny your family's pleads. Especially when you were being offered to him on a tempting platter.

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Hi guys, I'm back at it again. Don't think that I wasn't writing, I just found out I had an allergy. So I had to deal with that. But I'm back and with a cute Bowser story. I've wanted to write for him since the new Mario Bros movie. It wasn't until recently that I thought of a decent plot though. Any who I hope you enjoy.

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He was surprised at receiving a request for an audience with your kingdom. A trading kingdom from a far off port. He had seen your parents from time to time at galas or Royal conferences. They seemed to be respectable if not private people. What was most peculiar though, was your name in the letter. He had heard mentions of you of course. But outside of your own kingdom, no one had seemed to see you.

It may have been your presence that made his decision. Who was to say, either way, your family would be at his castle within a fortnight.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your hands fidget together as the carriage made its way down the rocky road. Glancing around you notice your mother frowning out the window. While you father was staring at you. Looking down quickly, you braced for a lecture.

“You know this is a last resort, don't you?” His gaze seemed to bore through you to your very soul.

Nodding you hoped that would be answer enough. As he didn't turn away, you said. “I do.” Though the whole situation only made you feel as if you were only an object.

A ghost of a smile fell on his face. Though it was as hollow as his next words. “I'm glad.”

Your mother's eyes narrowed as they surveyed the passing scenery.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your families arrival rang throughout the castle. The Goombas were rushing around to do last second tidying. While Kamek ordered Koopas to finish the dinner preparations.

Bowser's eyes swept over the grounds until they landed on the colorful carriage. It had wonderful murals of coastal scenery. As well as being drawn by creatures that weren't quite fish or horse. He was eagar to see what other oddities your kingdom may have. Hearing a scuffle next to him, he looked down to see Bowser Jr. shuffling in excitement. It wasn't everyday someone visited the castle under pleasant circumstances. Smiling down at his son, he ruffled his hair affectionately.

The carriage parked in front of the king and the driver opened the door. As regal as ever, your father and mother stepped through the door. He was a moment from greeting them, when you appeared. Beautiful as anyone he had ever seen and full as an overripe fruit. You were the visage of a deity.

Your father cleared his throat causing Bowser to reluctantly look away from you. The man had a knowing yet somber expression on his face. While your mother was out right scowling. A sheepish look crossed your face as you joined your parents.

Putting on a more professional air, he waved his arm towards the castle. “Welcome, please come inside and rest in your rooms a while. Dinner will be ready soon.” With that he rushed inside, Jr. trailing behind him. All the while berating himself. Coming up with a plan to not make so much of a fool of himself at dinner. Not noticing how Jr. couldn't stop looking back at you admiringly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Charles are you sure this is the right decision? I mean did you see the way he was gaping at her.” You could hear your mother's complaints ringing through the room you had been shown to.

“Evie please, this was a descion that had to be made.” There was a tense silence that followed. “It's not as if we've forced her. You know better than anyone that no one can will her to do anything.”

This caused an uncomfortable pressure to build behind your eyes. Not wanting to hear about your parents thoughts on you. You swiftly entered the room. “Have they called us for dinner?” You had already heard the Koopa tell your parents it was ready. But it was easier to change the subject quickly and avoid their gaze this way.

Your father smiled and gave you a endearing smile that you weren't sure you deserved. “Yes, should we start making our way then.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He sat at the head of the table. Desperately hoping that he didn't seem to eagar as your family approached. Jr. bounced in his seat to the right. To his shock you took the seat on his left. It was in this moment that he was glad that Kamek had suggested a smaller table. Something about it being a less intimidated and cozy gestured.

The first dish came out and only the sound of silverware filled the room. It wasn't until the main course came that the tension was broken by your father.

“I'm sure your curious as to why we've called for this audience.” His gaze felt piercing to the turtle tyrant.

His eyes flickered to you for a brief moment, before focusing on him. “I was surprised why such a distant kingdom would reach out.” Without knowing the reason for your visit, it felt like he had to walk on egg shells. Why were you here?

Rubbing a hand across his aged features, he said. “It is not under happy circumstances. We are receiving threats from a nearby kingdom. Are you familiar with the Eezla domain?”

He had to hold back a flinch. Even he had a hard time dealing with the war hungry dictator of a leader from there. It was no wonder your family had seeked out an audience with another kingdom. The only question was why his.

“He has come to us with a demand. Our daughter's hand in marriage or a battle for our ports.” His tone was weary.

Your gaze dropped to the table with dread. You wouldn't mind sacrificing your morals to save your people. But as the only heir for your family. It was an obvious ploy to take over the kingdom. You wouldn't have been surprised if your parent's death would have followed the potential ceremony.

“So instead we talked together on the matter and came to a new conclusion. It would be far more difficult if our daughter was wed to a more tolerable kingdom. Though they would need to have a formidable army.” He would have continued his eloquent explanation. If not for your mother's bitter interuption.

“She choose you. Can you believe that.” Her glare burned through him. “Out of all the options she had. You were her first pick.” Folding her arms over her chest, she resembled more closely a toddler than a queen.

Standing up quickly, you gave a hard stare to your mother. “It was the logical choice.” Looking away from her, your timid demeanor returned. “If the other party accepts that is.”

He could help but think that your gaze was as piercing as your father's. Though there was a graceful openness to you. He thought of Peach for a moment and had to keep a grimace off of his face. It had been a blow to his heart when she married Mario. Looking at you, it was like a golden opportunity had been dropped in his lap. “I do.”

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It was an odd feeling to bid fairwell to your parents. But with your mother's distaste for the arrangement and time running out. It was better that they go start the ceremony preparations now. It was a relief to only have to make final decisions. Also that Bowser agreed to a wedding in your home lands.

Placing your ear against the door. No large footfalls could be heard and your shoulders sagged in relief. You shouldn't be avoiding your betrothed. On the other hand, if he asked about what your mother said. You just may die of embarrassment.

Just how was a sheltered princess supposed to explain to her newly betrothed about her powers. That the only reason the ruler of Eezla had found out you are a seerer. After that it wasn't long before he demanded for your hand. By choice or force. This had prompted you to shut yourself away and look for the best path. It hadn't taken long. The moment Boswer entered your visions, it was all but decided. The sight of his heart break was surprising. Followed by the tenderness he held for his son. He provided for his citizens, raising a fierce army.

A blush took over your face as you remembered your possible future together. Growing to care for one another. Parenting Bowser Jr. together, even visions of your own children. It was almost to much to handle, your face felt as if it was on fire.

Taking a deep breath, you gathered yourself. Stepping out the door, you bumped into a small figure. It was a shock to run into someone shorter than you. But a gasp escaped your mouth as you saw Jr. on the floor in front of you.

Scooping him up on your arms, you fussed. “Oh darling, I'm so sorry. I didn't notice you there. Are you ok?”

He beamed up at you and nodded quickly. He couldn't believe how lucky he was. He got a new mama, she was super nice and pretty! “Are you coming to breakfast?”

Looking down at the sweet boy you hesitated. “Is your father there?”

Shaking his head, he said. “No, he had to go with Kamek. So I told him I would take you to breakfast.” He was bouncing in your arms. It made him a bit hard to keep a hold of.

So placing him down gently, you nodded. “Yes some food sounds good.” You felt guilty for avoiding him. But you thought some time apart may bury the comments your mother made.

Feeling a tug at your hand, you allowed the excited child to lead you.

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He couldn't keep his mind off of it. You had chosen him. Of all people why him? He could hardly pay attention to the map sprawled out before him. No matter how many times he told himself that knowing the enemy territory was important. His thought just couldn't stop straying to you.

Your sweet temperament and melodious voice. How well your plush form filled out your clothes. How you looked at him without any fear or animosity. You had chosen him.

Shifting his mind onto a task to aid you. Yes that's how he could keep himself on point. This was for you. The more he knew of his new enemies. The better he could protect you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You didn't see each other again until dinner that evening. You having spent the day with Jr., avoiding any thought of the large turtle. While he made battle strategy and his mind wouldn't stop returning to you.

It would have been a quiet meal, if not for the youngest participant. He animatedly talked about what you both had done that day. His father couldn't help his admiration for you growing. You obviously had already taken a special place in his son's life.

“Then I slipped off the stair.” Waving his arms around wildly, the pint size turtle almost tipped out of his chair. You both leaned forward, until he settled back down. Your face flushed as your eyes met. “But Ms. (Y/N) caught me with sparkles.”

Bowser's eyes widened, he hadn't been informed of you having magical ability. He wondered if it was anything like Kamek's spells. “I wasn't aware of you being a caster.”

Your face darkened as his attention was solely on you. “Not many people are. That's one reason my parents kept me from the public eye. With how rare magic users are and all.” He wanted to questioned you a bit more. But the subject seemed to make you more timid than usual. So instead he turned back to Jr. and listened to his day with you. Hopefully with time you would feel comfortable enough to open yourself up to him.

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You couldnt stand it any longer. You had to tell him the truth. It felt deceitful to keep your ability from him. The day you were meant to be bound was fast approaching. You didn't want to start your married life together on such a sour note.

You steeled your nerves as you came upon the door to his private chambers. It was well past Jr.’s bedtime, so you knew interuptions were unlikely. Raising a fist you knock lightly, when no immediate answer came you were torn. A part of you was relieved to not have to deal with this quite yet. Still there was a throb of anxiety about waiting any longer. You battled with yourself to knock again or leave. Until the door swung open.

Bowser toweled off his firey hair as he looked down at you. It was an unlikely yet pleasant surprise to see you outside his chambers. Grinning down at you he invited you in. “Make yourself comfortable.”

As he left through another door, you glanced around the room. It was about as grand as you had imagined it. Lavish paintings and banners decorating the walls. Though an area was sectioned off for Jr.'s art. It was adorable and heartwarming to see how much he had saved. A flush coated your cheeks as you noticed the only place to sit was the large bed. It was a lavish setting, dark stained wood with deep red bedding. You felt a shy yet scandalous heat travel through you. It wouldnt be long before this would be your chambers as well. The very bed that you would share together.

You almost jumped out of your skin as he reentered the room.

“Sorry about that, you caught me after a shower.” His hair drooped in a freshly washed fashion. It was a look you hadn't had a chance to see yet. It was an odd, but endearingly boyish style. “What was it you wanted to discuss?”

“Oh I was um.” The blush spread deepening to your neck. It was one thing to come up with the resolve. But another to go through with the difficult task. Still you needed to do this, for both of your sakes. “I need to let you know the truth. Why I chose you that is.”

He watched you carefully. It was something that had been on his mind for a while. Who was he kidding, since it was mentioned. But as he watched you fidget in place, he couldn’t take the usual pleasure he got from others squirming. So instead, he sat next to you patiently and waited for you to continue.

Gathering all your courage, you spat it out. “I can see the future.” A stagnant silence filled the air. Each of you waiting for the other to break it.

He awkwardly shifted to get a better look at you. Was that why you had chosen him? Was he the best pick or did you settle. Gazing down at you, he took you in. Your flush full cheeks and eyes looking everywhere but him. Your soft body, if only you knew how much your plush form filled his dreams. Taking your warm hands into his own, he smiled genuinely. “So you saw us together?” You nodded. “Were we….” He paused not knowing how to put the next question.

You noticed his hesitation, it made you want to sigh in relief. It was nice to know that you weren't the only one having a difficult time navigating this. Tightening your hold on his hands you explained. How the leader of Eezla had found out about you being a mage. But the only thing he was interested in was your proficient seer abilities. His demand for your hand was met with refusal. He then threatened the lives of your people. This led you to searching for a solution, which turned out to be him.

Eyes wide he wanted to deny it all. “But I'm just as bad as he is. Why choose me over him?” He hated himself for bringing it up. But a part of him would feel worse if he didn't.

Shaking your head you glared at him. “You are nothing like that monster. I know you have a sorted past with the Mushroom Kingdom. But the moment Peach married you left well enough alone. Not to mention the way you care for Jr. and your citizens. And when we have our daughter, your eyes light up the first time you hold her.”

He stared at you with astonishment. “We have a daughter?” You cover your face mortified. Only to shriek in the next moment as he scoops you up and spins you around the room. Your screams turn into elated giggles as you relax in his arms. Pulling you closer he gazes into your lovely eyes and leans forward. You meet his lips in a tender kiss.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Things went well, pleasant conversation and sweet looks were exchanged. It seemed that things were going to work out. Until the Mushroom Kingdom caught wind of a damsel ‘trapped’ in Bowser's castle.

Mario suits up as his brother looks at him skeptically. “Are you sure you should go charging in there?”

The shorter man glared at him. It wasn't like he had a choice. The minute Peach heard some woman was there she threw a fit. Complaining about her time there and what she had to deal with. If it was her he wouldn't hesitate to rush over. Even if she was right, he just wanted to relax every once and a while. If it wasn't his new royal duties, it was his family back in Brooklyn. It felt like he hadn't had a day off in years.

Waving a hand at the other man, he said. “I'm just going to check things out. Not start a war or anything.”

With a weary nod he followed after his older brother.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

As time was drawing closer for the wedding, you were pouring over the final details with Bowser. He had originally insisted that you make all the decisions. But after convincing him this was a ceremony to join you both, he relented. You were elated at the combination of opinions and styles. It was going to be a magical event.

Jr. had tried not to get bored while you went over the seemingly endless papers. He really did, but what was a young boy to do. Although when he heard the words flower arrangements. He knew there was something he could do to help. Calling out that he was headed to the gardens, he darted away.

As he gathered flowers, weeds, and grass. He failed to notice the two plumbers approaching the castle. He jumped and whirled around as they called out to him.

“Hey kid, have you seen a new lady around the place?” Mario thought it would be easier to ask than sneak around.

Eyes narrowing at the brothers, he frowned. “What’s it to you?” There was no way he was letting these guys near Mama. When they didn't answer, he turned back to a patch of red flowers.

Getting frustrated with the whole situation, the shorter man put a hand on the boy. Only hoping to get his attention again. He was shocked when the child ran from them.

“Mama!” He stumbled in his hurry to escape from the brothers. Tumbling end over end, he landed on his knee. Scrapping the skin, blood seeped from the wound. Tears sprang from his eyes as he sat on the ground. Luigi started to make his way over, until the wind began to pick up and the ground shook.

The entrance burst open as a red eyed Bowser and a whirlwind sprinted towards the group. The wind calmed down a bit. The brothers were faced with a woman that looked as of she wanted to bite their heads off. They had never seen a more fierce expression on a person before.

Your hair whipped around your face wildly. The only thing that brought you back was Jr. wrapping his arms around your leg. Dropping the magic immediately, you scooped him into your arm. Cuddling him close to your chest, you wiped the tears from his cheeks.

Allowing himself to take a moment to gaze at the two of you tenderly. He enjoyed the sight of the woman he was growing to love caring for his child. It was a veiw that he could get used to. A glare slid on his face as he turned towards the brothers. “Is there any reason your harassing my son. Make it quick, you interupted something important.” One wrong move and he would tear into these idiots. He would risk peace with the Mushroom Kingdom for his families’ safety.

“We came to make sure she wasn't here against her will.” Mario was done with this entire situation. He was obviously sent on a dead end trip. You were treating Bowser Jr. like your own child. Not to mention Bowser putting himself between you and the brothers. It was obvious you were here by choice.

This made you finally take your attention off Jr. These men come here and accuse your betrothed of forcing you here. You know he had a sorted pass. Though your ability showed that he was passed that phase. It was one thing to make baseless claims. But it was a whole other to harm a child in the process. “I am here of my own accord. In a months time I will be marrying Boswer and taking my place in this kingdom. If that is enough evidence for you, I will now be leaving to heal my son. If not then I won't hesitate to make sure this is your last trip to the Koopa Kingdom.” The wind picked back up at your threat.

“No, we'll be on our way.” Mario just wanted to go home and soak away this entire experience. Pulling Luigi along, he shushed his protest with a wave of his hands.

Bowser followed after you, pupils practically shaped like hearts. He wasn't sure what he had done to be so lucky to meet you. But he would be sure to keep his plush queen by his side.

[love-note-musings]

helen otis x reader | creepypasta oneshot

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* "up from the ocean floor," bloody painter x pyromaniac reader

tw themes of gender stereotypes and body dysmorphia

if you feel like you've read this somewhere, you may have! i'm just transferring my old oneshots from quotev onto my tumblr

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀

     The two of you sat together, hands lightly entangled, not too tight, just dangling there in that space. You fidgeted. Strings hanging down from your jacket twirling around your free fingers, your leg bounced. Even with the tranquility of it all, your mind wandered while your body was settled into someone else, relaxed yet on edge, waiting to crash. Mostly just waiting. Anticipation gripped onto you with white knuckles, it sent you bounding, it filled the crevices in your brain where the missing memories evaporated into blank cavities, it gushed.

     In the black of night, your art would erupt into one blazing star that spread to all four corners, licking up the walls and floorboards and uniting them under one flame that blanketed the abandoned building. You stood there as your shoulders drooped and you felt the anxiety that toyed with you dissipate, even slightly, watching as the flames mesmerized you, swaying to one another. The stress, anxiety, it all exploded out of you with waves of red, it was illicit and choleric and it lapped at the edges of the walls as the air around it warped into new shapes and patterns. It was all a vivid, prismatic globe that exploded and spread. 

      To Helen, you were polychromatic. 

      You were like a vivid, prismatic globe that would shatter across the night sky, spreading your polychromatic visage against wooden planks nailed together, splattering down until you reached the ground again. The world burned for you, and fire was dangerous, he knew that. Helen couldn’t help but stare, taking in the hues and letting himself bask in the view, making sure the image would imprint all the way down into his bones so he’d be sure to remember it forever somewhere on his body. Visible marks.

     Tensions ebbed and fell from your body little by little as the flames covered more ground, spreading from the floorboards to the ceilings as you sat in the grass by Helen’s side. You were no artist, merely just trying to find a foothold amongst tumbling rocks. Small clicks were nothing in comparison to the crackling embers and his film camera wasn’t enough to do the scene justice.

     Oh, and the way your eyes shined, the colors bounding off your scleras and reflecting back the danger, the heat. You shifted in awe. In your distracted state, Helen leaned away from your hold and positioned his camera towards your face in wonderment. With a snap, the memory would last. 

     What would an artist be without a muse? To repeatedly create but with no admiration, and therefore, with no motivation, allowing themselves to be pulled in any direction of stereotypical beauty without any personal influencers. Helen used to be quite stumped with himself, wondering why his eye was captured by floral lace and monochromatic clothing all the same. Why at times he wanted to feel dainty, and sometimes neutral, sometimes strong and bold. This created categories in his mind, never quite finding the foothold he desired in the narrow categories crafted for him by other people. It left him rattled and defenseless, allowing his interests to sway with a bout of rather disinterest, never staying long with one style or another, trying everything and therefore finding nothing. What did Helen want to be? 

     He had delicate features, that’s what everyone had always said, at least. ‘Dainty, delicate’. At times he found the sight of himself calming. Other times he wanted to smash any and all mirrors, fearing that when he looked he wouldn’t like what he found. When it came time to attempt a self portrait, Helen found he had no idea where to start, how to portray his features, wondering what he looked like to begin with. What did he look like? How did others perceive him? In the end, he settled on feeling, how he felt, what he thought he had looked like. The canvas came out splotched and blurred. Yet when it came to anyone else, he would be able to paint them with near perfection, seemingly being able to pinpoint what about their faces made them unique, their own person. 

     Helen looked through his “self portraits” with a dissatisfied look, flipping through the canvases, never liking how they looked, even with the ambiguity, never liking the shades or angles or anything. He disliked it all. So they sat in the corner of his study covered with a tarp, next to it on the shelf, a box of film photos that he’d shuffle through, looking for something to occupy his time. Photos of wildlife, people, fabrics fluttering in the wind, and even cafes made their way from that box into different art pieces. Sketches, watercolor, charcoal, acrylic and oil paintings, colored pencils stenciled in to make photos with strokes. At least he could make other things to his liking. In the end, he chose the one photo that lit him up the most. 

     And so he sat there, hour upon hour, sitting on a stool splattered with paint as his hands traveled with ease, moving from one corner to another until the patterns corrected itself and the colors meshed, melding into one picture. Dots marking the sides of their cheeks, lips upturned at the corners, eyes fitted with wrinkles that looked appropriate, creating crescents. A blush sank into those same cheeks, dusting the sides, adding depth to the face which had started out as a collection of shapes and ended up being yours. What was an artist without a muse, without beauty to capture? So there you were. Poised in the photograph, sitting patiently, oblivious to the idle fascination found on your features that were once etched into your muscle memory and were now preserved by sheets of canvas fitted to four beams of wood. Acrylic paint, a medium used by the artist to mold you back into life. 

     When the day came down to yet another close, he felt okay with the fact that he could capture every single, tiny, miniature, inconsequential detail that made up the being of you. If he could not find himself in bins of paint and brushes, nor amongst pencils or water, he could find you, the blueprint that led to his heart and warmed it from the bottom up. Helen could have sworn you held the key in some way, some form, that reached deep inside of him to find the urge that spurred him forward, to create, to do, to perceive. Perhaps it was egotistical, but every piece he had every done of you had been perfect. He liked perfect, he was only ever satisfied with perfect. Your beauty and essence gave way to him finding the drive to perfect each line on your face. 

     Time melted away, and soon, it was complete. A near replica of the photograph he managed to capture the first time he saw your eyes light up. 

     You, the actual you, stood patiently behind him, hands folded behind your back as you looked between Helen and the painting. Eyeing him up and down, pretending to circle his newest art piece and ogle at it, lips formed in a line that couldn’t help but result in a smirk with your fingers to your lips. The only thing you were looking at was him. Bangs covering his eyes ever so slightly that you wondered how he could see, eyebrows furrowed deep in concentration, one you knew better but to break. It’s true, you wouldn’t bother him with your own musings. Instead you roamed around his room as if you haven’t been there times and times before. Curious hands found draped tarps and draped tarps housed hidden paintings. Fingers flipping through the collection, your own brow became furrowed.

     “Helen,” you called out, an outgoing dare to break the silence, “what are these?” Turning back to him, you followed his line of sight as it drifted down to the canvases nestled amongst the crook of the floor. 

     “Nothing,” he said cooly, deflecting back into the makeshift world he was creating, being able to live there as long as the process lasted. “Don’t worry about it,”

      A hum left your lips, rocking back and forth on your heels. You knew exactly what you were looking at. “What will you do with them?”

      Helen shrugged, “Burn them? You can tear the staples out from the fabric if you want, I’ll reuse the frames.”

     ‘How environmentally friendly of you,’ you thought to yourself with amusement, heaving up one of the canvases and holding it out for a better look. 

     Well, it had the shape of Helen. Nothing much more to it. Blurred features were what drew your eye in, wondering what exactly the idea was behind the work. Nonetheless you grabbed a pair of pliers and began tearing the staples out, careful with each piece of canvas you ripped from the base, laying them neatly to the side as the pile of stapes layered up. If you could have done him justice, you would have offered to try to capture him in some way, whether by paint stroke or sketch. But you were no artist, and felt it insulting to even try. 

     “Are you sure you want to get rid of them. . ?” You asked, never not anticipating an answer in the negative.

     “Yes,” he replied, matching your assumption. And with that you left the topic at hand until the night.

     When the sun lost itself under the horizon, Helen rolled up those loose canvas pieces and held them under his arm like a newspaper, bundled up as he made his way through the woods. There he’d find you amongst the trees in an alcove of your own design, a burning pit in the middle. Once the scraps were placed in your hands, Helen didn’t bother needing to see it through with conviction. They’d simply erupt into flames and he would be freed from that feeling, right? It would all go away and he wouldn’t have to see it anymore, he could start over again, and he’d be free. 

     Except nothing is ever as simple, and you knew that as you felt the gravity of it in your palms. “Are you sure you want to get rid of them?” You asked one last time, just to be sure, prompted to do so by the slightest of twinges in his expression, just one opening of a sliver into his emotions. 

     Helen huffed, “Yes, of course I”m sure. Why is it any different than the other work I’ve burned here?” 

     “Because,” you reasoned, “its you and you made it.”

     “That is not me.”

     His diction briefly startled you, his voice raised into a raging simmer and dangling off into an eruption, bouncing and cracking. Helen, usually so posh and poised, you knew he had to have his weak spots too, just like any other person. But again, knowing Helen, you knew he wouldn’t be the kind to shed those slivers and open up, tearing himself away from his comforts and instead preferring to become entangled with your own. That kind of vulnerability was different from sharing a bed, from sharing any kind of space; it was the kind that would eat up at your insides, the kind that you wouldn’t let go of until you couldn’t keep it contained anymore. You were patient, it was the long run from here on out, and he was completely correct that it wasn’t him.

     With that, you let fire do what fire does best.

     Helen didn’t much look at the scene, instead slumping into himself, looking a little bit more at peace as the flames picked at the frays. You watched him as his arms wrapped around his sides, his neutral expression nearly settled into a grimace, his eyes concentrated yet unfocused. 

     “I’ll try it again someday,” he said out of the blue, watching the flames dance, his tone calm and steady once more, as if nothing were amiss.

     You made the risk of getting closer to him and placing your hand on divot in his back, you pulled yourself closer to him, “I know.”

     To your surprise, Helen didn’t move away. His feet found themselves shuffling even just an inch closer to your embrace to share your warmth and feel your presence. Your body pressed against his helped those feelings ebb and flow, slowing to a trickle in his mind, grounding himself in the sensation rather than the aesthetic, letting him exist. Even if it was with the help of your feelings, it was still something to grasp onto throughout the onslaught of thoughts that plagued him. It was still different. 

     For that moment and that moment only, Helen compromised on relying on you with the faith that you wouldn’t view him lesser than worthy for exhibiting such intimacy with. He leaned into your side, closer yet now, and settled his head into the crook of your neck. From now on he’d wear blush proudly if you were the one to fluster him, he’d yank flowers from people’s porch side gardens, preferably annuals, he’d press them between pages in the dictionary, he’d grind the petals together to form a paste, coat it with oil to bind, splattering onto new canvases. Helen would wrap flowers and their vines all over your body to squeeze every spot he wasn’t bold enough to touch in reality. The paintings would be just as good, right? gloriosa superba would be his poison of choice, he’d use it smear across his body until he became apart of the petals. Fire was dangerous and he gave into the heat.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: .⋆

originally posted on quotev/citrusyfruits, reposted with permission

[man-eating-unicorn]

So because it's been three straight days of me being unable to think of anything else I'm posting this little opening exert. An original draconic character insert to Tolkien's 'The Hobbit'. Perhaps it will peak someone's interest. Opening exert beneath the cut.

To Fight Fire with Fire.

As the sun's fiery edge dipped towards evening over the jagged stone of the Carrock, the company lit a fire to roast sheep and hare, courtesy of the eagles' bounty. Weariness was giving way to a hard-won relaxation when a distant sound broke the quiet. The group fell silent, their ears straining as a deep, primeval bellow echoed on the wind, sending vibrations through the air. The noise sent the company stumbling to their feet, faces set with alarm. Thorin's heart sank, and a creeping sense of dread stole over his frame.

“By the fires of Mahal,” he muttered to himself, “what new terror is this?” The bellow sounded once more, a deafening roar like the very foundations of the earth were being rent asunder, and sent shivers coursing down Thorin's spine in icy rivulets. His stomach plummeted like a stone cast into a bottomless chasm. It was coming towards them.

“What is that sound?” he calls to the wizard, who stands, mumbling to himself in far too pleased a fashion, and indeed a smile lingers on his face when he turns to answer.

“That, Master Oakenshield, is an old friend.” He replies, eyes glinting with a knowing light.

Thorin's scowl deepens in suspicion, though Gandalf disregards the expression, as he is wont to do.

“And a great ally in our quest if we can persuade him to lend us his aid, so leave the talking to me; perhaps this time diplomacy might prevail."

His statement contained a level of scolding that would have likely evoked many disagreeable grumblings and a tart rejoinder from Thorin, had everyone not been focused entirely on the distant shape flying towards them.

For one heart-stopping moment, panic fills Thorin as he sees what appears to be another dragon bearing down upon them. Yet as the creature draws nearer, he can see that its wingspan, while formidable, falls far short of the one that still haunts his days. Thorin will never forget the massive shadow that had swallowed the mountain like a shroud over the sun beneath Smaug's monstrous wings, and these do not compare. He can also make out a body that is strangely humanoid in form, as well as what may be a tail.

The wizard steps forward to meet this ‘old friend,’ blocking Thorin's view with the ridiculous swath of grey drapery he wears and cutting off any further clarity Thorin might have gained. The king takes the moment to survey his companions, whose faces are set with a mix of fatigue and wariness, before edging around Tharkun to position himself between the newcomer and his men. The company remains frozen, hands resting on weapon hilts with caution, their eyes fixed on the approaching figure as they whisper among themselves in hushed tones.

What alights upon the stone ledge appears to be some nightmarish cross between an elf and a dragon, standing tall over the wizard on clawed feet. Thorin half thinks to search for aspects of the pale orc in its visage, as if expecting to find that all his past foes had coalesced into this single, unsettling entity. Yet, apart from a complexion that appeared naturally pale, the stranger bore little resemblance to any orc. Though its face is Elven in its fairness, it is a superficial likeness at best. For no elf ever looked so sharp, so untamed, with long, dagger-like ears flicking beneath a wild mane of dark hair that tumbled over its shoulders and ethereal, glowing eyes. The cobalt scales scattered across the high planes of its face catch the firelight like tiny jewels. Thorin can glimpse long, taloned fingers, more scaling, and yes, the curve of a tail, before Tharkun interposes himself once more. He immediately shuffles the strange new being off to the side where a huddled conference ensues.