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solxamber · 3 months ago

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Guide Rank: Overwhelmed || Malleus Draconia

Being a high-ranked guide is tough—you’re basically a glorified babysitter for overpowered, emotionally constipated espers. But it gets harder when Malleus Draconia, the strongest esper in existence, asks you to guide him. And somehow, despite it all, you’re pretty sure Malleus is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Or: Guideverse au!

Series Masterlist

The world is a nightmare. It used to be bad enough with things like taxes, slow WiFi, and that one sock disappearing in the wash. But now? Now you have random cosmic hellmouths opening up and vomiting out monsters that think humans are snack-sized protein bars.

They call them Gates. They pop up out of nowhere like your intrusive thoughts at 3 AM, and if no one deals with them, entire cities get turned into discount horror movie scenes.

The only reason people aren't living in a monster apocalypse is because of Espers—overpowered individuals who fight these creatures with sheer force, wild abilities, and a complete disregard for their own safety.

But there’s a tiny problem. Espers have the durability of a wet paper bag. They burn through their energy, go berserk, or outright implode if left alone for too long.

And that’s where Guides come in. Guides stabilize Espers, keep them from disintegrating mid-fight, and prevent them from making headlines as "Local Hero Explodes on Live TV."

And you? Congratulations! You are an SS-Class Guide, one of the absolute best. This should mean power, prestige, and maybe even free drinks. Instead, it means you are a walking, talking, highly sought-after life support machine, and every Esper on the planet wants a piece of you.

And not in a fun way.

You’ve spent your entire career dodging unhinged, desperate, overpowered individuals who think "force-bonding" is a reasonable dating strategy.

Some try to flirt their way into your schedule (bad idea). Some try to bribe you with things like gold, private yachts, and one guy who straight-up offered you a castle. And then there are the truly feral ones, who don’t understand the word “no” and think "What if I just grabbed them?" is a valid problem-solving technique.

One time, an S-Class Esper sent you 72 marriage proposals in a single day. Another time, a different one broke into your apartment and left a PowerPoint presentation on why you should bond with them. With transitions.

If you had a nickel for every time you had to physically dodge an Esper trying to latch onto you like a clingy octopus, you wouldn’t need this job anymore. You could retire to a nice, peaceful life in the mountains, away from all of this nonsense.

But no. You’re still here. Still dodging Espers who treat you like a Black Friday deal at 90% off.

Something has to change.

It’s another day at work. Another day of wading through a swamp of increasingly deranged requests for guiding, because apparently, every high-ranking Esper on the planet thinks you’re the Holy Grail of Stability™.

You take a deep breath, open your inbox, and immediately regret your life choices.

Request #1:

"O Supreme and Benevolent Guide, I have compiled a PowerPoint titled ‘Why You Should Guide Me and Not Those Other Losers.’ Please see attached. I am very persuasive. Also, I have snacks. Just saying."

Attached: A 657-slide PowerPoint presentation with bullet points like “I Only Go Almost Berserk Like Every Other Tuesday” and “Look At This Dog I Found, Do You Like Him?”

Request #2:

"Greatest and Most Esteemed Guide, I humbly request your guidance. I will literally pay you in gold. Actual, real gold. Or cash. Or—listen, name your price. My mental stability is at stake here. I am ONE bad day away from levitating into the stratosphere and exploding like a firework. PLEASE. I am BEGGING you. Sincerely, your most devoted, desperate, and slightly deranged fan."

Attached: A poorly photoshopped picture of you both standing in front of a sunset. You’ve never met this person in your life.

Request #3:

"GOD-TIER GUIDE, PLEASE, I WILL DO ANYTHING. I WILL FETCH YOUR GROCERIES. I WILL WALK YOUR PET. YOU DON’T HAVE A PET? I WILL GET YOU A PET. I WILL BECOME YOUR PET. PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, JUST GIVE ME 10 MINUTES OF YOUR TIME. MY LAST GUIDE QUIT ON ME AND MOVED TO AN UNDISCLOSED LOCATION. I AM VERY STABLE. PLEASE."

Attached: A video of the sender crushing a monster’s skull with their bare hands while sobbing.

You pinch the bridge of your nose.

This is your life now.

And then—you see it.

A request.

A normal request.

No groveling. No bribery. No half-deranged monologue about why their existence is crumbling without you.

Just a plain, simple request for a guiding session. No attachments. No drama.

You do not even look at the name or the rank.

You just slam the approve button so hard your screen nearly cracks.

And you schedule them for today.

Whatever poor, normal, well-adjusted Esper just sent that request? You’re about to meet your new favorite person.

You hear a knock on your office door and, without looking up from your third coffee of the afternoon, you say, "Come in." You assume it's just another esper with an unhinged request or a government official trying to bribe you into a permanent bond arrangement (as if free coffee is enough to make up for dealing with an unstable murder machine forever).

But when you finally glance up, you’re met with Malleus fucking Draconia.

SSS-class esper. Only because the measuring device physically cannot display values above SSS. If it could, it would probably just scream in binary before shutting itself down out of fear.

And Malleus, the walking cataclysm, smiles at you. A polite, almost sweet smile that absolutely does not match the soul-crushing amount of raw, unstable power radiating off of him.

He thanks you, so genuinely, for agreeing to guide him, and suddenly, you feel like maybe—just maybe—the guy who sent you a PowerPoint presentation about why he’d be the perfect esper for you would’ve been a safer choice. Because in what world were you qualified to guide Malleus Draconia?

But you’re a professional. A highly trained SS-class Guide. You’ve dealt with terrifying espers before. (You survived guiding Leona Kingscholar, and that man once threatened to bite someone’s hand off for waking him up.) So you take a deep breath, paste on a practiced, reassuring smile, and gesture toward the couch. “Please, take a seat.”

Malleus does, settling in like a well-mannered prince, and when you take his hands, his power hits you like a truck.

No, scratch that. A truck would be merciful. This is like getting yeeted into the sun.

Because for all his outward composure, for all his eerie, elegant calm, his body is ripping itself apart from the sheer force of his own abilities. His energy is so volatile, so uncontained, that even just touching him feels like holding onto a live wire dipped in liquid magic.

You open your mouth, fully prepared to yell WHAT THE HELL, but instead, what comes out is a weak, strangled, “So… how long has it been since your last guiding?”

Malleus blinks, tilting his head slightly, as if the question is odd. “Ah,” he hums. “A rather long time, I suppose.”

You squint at him. "Define 'long.'"

There’s a pause. And then, with the same pleasant smile, he says, “Over a decade.”

…

…A decade.

You stare at him. Your soul leaves your body. Your hands are on him right now, guiding him, and no other guide has touched him for ten whole years??? You’ve guided espers who've almost lost their minds after three months without stabilization, and this man—no, this monster, this eldritch entity in the shape of a handsome Esper—has been raw-dogging reality for a full decade???

And the worst part is, you get it.

You’ve heard the stories. No guide is willing to risk their life guiding him. He’s too powerful, too unstable, too dangerous. But also??? He’s the reason those cowardly soy-latte-drinking guides even get to enjoy their caramel cream monstrosities without getting eaten by a Gate Beast. The least they could do is try.

So you do.

You take all that power, all that impossible, barely-contained force, and you stabilize it. As much as you can, at least, because Malleus is like an ocean, vast and endless, and you are one person desperately trying to keep the tide from sweeping away an entire city. But you manage. And when the strain starts to weigh on you, when exhaustion creeps in, Malleus—ever the gentleman—gently removes his hands from yours before you overextend yourself.

He looks at you like you’ve done something extraordinary. And in that soft, almost reverent voice, he murmurs, “Thank you.”

And when he asks if you’d accept his request again, how could you possibly say no?

You’ve seen Gates before. Too many, in fact. You’ve spent years standing at the edges of battlefields, waiting for Espers to stumble out after pushing themselves to their limits, ready to catch them before they crumbled into a pile of unstable, overpowered problems.

Usually, you’re waiting outside, stationed alongside other Guides, ready to stabilize the Espers who come stumbling out looking like they just did twelve rounds in a blender.

And today? No different.

The Gate suppressors finish their job, and as the shimmering tear in reality finally vanishes, a wave of exhausted Espers begins to stagger out.

Your fellow Guides immediately spring into action, swarming their assigned Espers like the world’s most exhausted yet underpaid nurses. You hear the usual litany of groaning, the occasional complaint about “why does guiding feel like drinking a warm glass of sadness,” and at least one voice yelling, “DON’T THROW UP ON ME, BRO.”

All in all, a standard post-Gate event.

But then—then.

Malleus Draconia walks out.

And the reaction is palpable.

Every Guide freezes. The air itself seems to shift, a held breath, a quiet hesitation, a collective someone else handle it.

Which, yeah. Fair. SSS-class esper. Walking apocalypse. If the world were a video game, he’d be the final boss, the secret bonus boss, and the eldritch horror you accidentally summon if you input the wrong cheat code.

But unlike every other high-class Esper, who would immediately demand a Guide’s attention like a toddler throwing a tantrum in a supermarket, Malleus just… looks around. Sees the other Espers getting help. And without a word, he simply starts walking away.

And something in you breaks.

It’s not just that your fellow Guides are scared of him. It’s the fact that he expects it. That he doesn’t even try. He just accepts that no one will come for him, and he leaves.

It’s one thing for a terrifying Esper to demand your attention, to expect you to fix them as if you’re a mechanic and they’re a car with the check engine light permanently on. But this? This quiet resignation? This acceptance of the fact that no one will help him?

Oh, absolutely not.

You push past the usual crowd of unstable, desperate, feral Espers who are trying to grab at your hands (“PLEASE, I WILL PAY YOU IN GOLD—OR FAVORS—WHICHEVER YOU PREFER”), and you march after him.

“Malleus,” you say, grabbing his arm before he can vanish into the night like a dramatic antihero.

He turns, blinking down at you in quiet surprise. “You’re here.”

“Of course I’m here,” you say, like he just told you the sky is blue. “I’m a Guide. This is my job.”

His expression flickers, the barest crack in his usual calm. “You would guide me?”

“Yes,” you say. “Now sit down.”

He actually listens. Thank the stars. You’re not sure what you would’ve done if he refused. Probably wrestled him to the ground, which would have been a terrible life choice, but whatever.

You sit across from him, take his hands, and—oh.

Oh.

Oh wow.

It's as bad, if not slightly better than the first time.

If guiding most Espers is like sifting through a river, guiding Malleus Draconia is like being pulled into the center of a supermassive black hole. It’s overwhelming, his power a heavy, crushing thing that hums under his skin like an unrelenting storm, pressing at the edges of your mind.

“How long has it been since your last session?” you ask, voice a little strained as you work to stabilize him.

Malleus tilts his head, thoughtful. “My last session was with you.”

Your grip tightens around his hands. “It's been 5 months.”

He hums. “No other Guide has been willing to take me on.”

That—that makes you want to throw something. Because sure, Malleus is terrifying. Sure, he’s a walking natural disaster. But he’s also the reason those Guides get to breathe.

You exhale sharply. “Well. That’s stupid.”

Malleus blinks. “Stupid?”

“Yes. Stupid.” You focus, pouring everything you have into stabilizing him, because you might not be able to guide him fully, but you sure as hell can make things better.

Malleus says nothing. He just… watches you.

And when you’re finally done—when you pull back, exhausted but satisfied—he tilts his head, voice soft.

“Allow me to escort you to your car.”

There’s a weight to the way he says it. A quiet intent.

You glance at the still-lingering crowd of Espers who have been waiting for their chance to pounce, and—ah.

That’s why.

Because Malleus walking with you means no one is about to harass you for an impromptu guiding session.

You glance back at him.

Malleus Draconia. The most powerful Esper alive. Unstable. Dangerous. Literally a walking storm.

“…Okay,” you say.

He walks you to your car, a steady presence at your side, and for the first time in years, you are not approached, begged, or proposed to on the way.

It’s peaceful.

Nice, even.

And as you slide into the driver’s seat, Malleus thanks you again, voice warm, quiet.

And impulsively—because your brain has fully given up on thinking before speaking—you blurt out, “Repay me by taking me out for coffee.”

There’s a pause.

A long one.

And then—Malleus smiles.

Not his usual polite, diplomatic smile. A real one.

And you realize, with sudden clarity, that you may have just changed the course of your entire life.

The next day, you step out of the Guidance Center, utterly exhausted.

You’ve spent all morning dealing with overworked Espers who don’t believe they need guiding until they start twitching like a broken lightbulb. One guy genuinely tried to convince you that he was “built different” and then proceeded to collapse mid-sentence.

So yeah. You’re tired. You just want to go home, take a nap, and not think about the absolute disaster that is your job.

And then you see him.

Malleus.

Waiting just outside the building, standing with the kind of stillness that makes him look more like a painting than a person.

But it’s not just him.

It’s the flowers.

A full bouquet, wrapped neatly, cradled in his hands like something precious.

And when he sees you, he smiles.

Your brain immediately blue-screens.

You walk up to him in a daze, already bracing yourself for the inevitable attention this is going to bring because, let’s be honest—Malleus Draconia standing outside your workplace holding flowers is about to start rumors.

(And by rumors, you mean your coworkers are never going to let you live this down.)

But when you reach him, he doesn’t do anything dramatic. Doesn’t say anything insane like “these flowers pale in comparison to your radiance” or “I will obliterate anyone who disrespects you.”

(You have, unfortunately, received both of those lines from unstable Espers before.)

Instead, he simply hands you the bouquet, his voice warm. “For you.”

And just like yesterday, you realize—this is different.

It’s not some desperate attempt to tie you to him, not an unstable Esper trying to own their Guide before anyone else can get to them.

He’s just… appreciative.

Grateful.

Your heart does something very annoying and fluttery at that realization.

You glance at the bouquet, then back up at him, and—oh.

He looks so pleased.

Like giving you flowers is the highlight of his week.

“…Are you free for that coffee now?” he asks, tilting his head slightly, expectant but unassuming.

And despite your exhaustion—despite knowing that this is probably the beginning of something huge and irreversible—you find yourself smiling.

“…Yeah,” you say, holding the flowers a little closer. “Yeah, I am.”

So far, this coffee date has been perfect.

You’re sitting across from Malleus, ranting about the absolute clowns you have to deal with daily.

“…And then this Esper looked me in the eyes and said, I will literally perish if you do not guide me this instant. Like. Sir.” You slap a hand on the table. “Sir. Please. This is a Starbucks.”

Malleus chuckles, eyes alight with amusement. “And what did you say to that?”

You sigh dramatically, tilting your head back. “I said, ‘Sounds fake, but okay.’”

He actually laughs at that—low and warm, and oh no, it’s really nice.

Before you can spiral about that, your drinks are ready. Malleus, being the gentleman he is, gets up to retrieve them.

And that’s when you feel it.

That unmistakable feeling of being watched.

Your instincts immediately go on high alert. Slowly, casually, you glance at the table next to you, expecting to see some shady esper trying to worm their way into your life.

What you actually see is so much better.

Sitting at the table next to you are three of the most suspicious individuals you have ever seen in your entire life.

The first one is a tiny man drowning in a trench coat three sizes too big, like a detective in a noir film gone wrong. He has an obviously fake mustache that is slightly peeling off his face, and he is watching you intensely.

Next to him, there is a guy wearing a tragically ugly pink wig.

He is asleep on the table.

Just. Fully unconscious. Like someone just unplugged him.

And finally—

A tall guy in fake glasses with an even faker nose, aggressively shoveling cake into his mouth while glaring at you like you just stole his firstborn child.

It’s silent.

You blink.

They blink.

And you immediately have to slap a hand over your mouth to keep from bursting out laughing.

Malleus returns, setting your drink in front of you, and you immediately point at the disaster trio sitting next to you.

“…Do you know them?” you ask, barely holding it together.

Malleus follows your gaze.

Sees the absolute circus happening at the next table.

And sighs.

A long, suffering sigh. The sigh of a man who has seen some things and has just realized he is doomed to see them for the rest of his life.

“Yes,” he says, like the words physically pain him. “Unfortunately.”

And that’s all you need to hear.

You immediately wave them over.

Because honestly?

Why not.

They look hilarious.

And you were right—Lilia (who introduces himself with a flourish and an actual theatrical bow) is an absolute riot. Silver, despite the crime against fashion sitting on his head, is actually very nice. And Sebek—who is still burning holes into you with his eyes—is begrudgingly polite, only because you’ve been guiding Malleus.

It turns into a full-blown sitcom.

At one point, Lilia pulls out a picture of an egg and tries to convince you that it's a baby picture of Malleus. You're not sure if he was serious. Sebek is still glaring at you, but it’s now 30% hostility, 70% begrudging respect. Silver almost faceplants into his drink.

Malleus, across from you, looks like he’s actively questioning all of his life choices.

It’s beautiful.

Eventually, when it’s time to leave, Malleus insists on walking you to your car.

And that’s when you notice it.

He’s pouting.

Not a dramatic pout. But his lips are slightly pressed together, his brows furrowed, like a cat that just got denied a seat on the kitchen counter.

You immediately find it endearing.

“What’s up?” you ask, amused.

Malleus exhales, glancing away. “…I was hoping for this to be a time where we could get to know each other.”

Oh.

Oh, that’s adorable.

You grin.

And before you can second-guess yourself, you lean in and press a quick kiss to his cheek.

Malleus freezes.

His eyes go wide. His breath catches. He looks like you’ve just blue-screened his brain.

You step back, grinning. “I'll see you around.”

And before he can respond, you slip into your car.

But as you drive away, you catch a glimpse of him in your mirror—

Standing there, hand pressed to his cheek, smiling like you just gave him the greatest gift in the world.

You hate Gates.

You hate that they can just open whenever they want, completely ignoring normal human schedules like some kind of otherworldly chaos entities (which, to be fair, they are).

But mostly, you hate that they always seem to open in the middle of the night.

Like, is there some kind of Gate Union that collectively decided on this? Do they hold meetings where they specifically vote to screw over guides by opening at the most inconvenient times?

And in the dead of winter, no less.

Truly, suffering knows no bounds.

Still, you drag yourself out of bed, slap on as many layers as physically possible (to the point where you briefly resemble a sentient pile of laundry), and head to the Gate’s location. On the way, you stop by an all-night café, because if you’re going to be miserable, you might as well be miserable with hot chocolate.

You even get two cups.

Not because you always do this for espers (you don’t—they can suffer like the rest of you), but because he is different.

Malleus.

The most powerful esper on the field tonight. The one who singlehandedly keeps half the Gates from turning into full-scale disasters. The one who always acts like he’s completely fine no matter what comes out of them.

And, most importantly—

The one esper you have a ridiculous, stupid, undeniably massive soft spot for.

So, you wait.

And wait.

You’re perched on a bench, holding your hot chocolates, trying not to think about how this is starting to feel like some kind of romantic drama scene, when you finally see him step out of the swirling remnants of the Gate.

Even exhausted, he still looks ridiculously elegant. His coat is dusted with frost, his dark horns curved like the wings of a dragon at rest. His presence—so big, so vast—immediately settles over the field, even as other espers struggle to regain their balance.

His expression is neutral, as always. Composed. Untouchable.

Until—

He spots you.

He blinks, as if surprised to see you.

And his face softens.

He doesn’t react right away, like he’s making sure he’s seeing correctly. But then, when it clicks, his lips part just slightly—an unspoken question, a faintly surprised blink—before they curve into the warmest, most gentle smile.

And wow. Wow.

Maybe the cold is getting to you, because you suddenly feel a little too warm.

You lift a hand and wave.

Malleus immediately starts walking toward you, his movements slow but steady. His eyes stay locked on yours, like he’s drawn to you without realizing it.

“You’re here,” he says, voice carrying that soft rumble that’s way too nice to listen to at this ungodly hour.

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, well, Gates don’t believe in work-life balance, apparently.” You hold up the second cup of hot chocolate. “Here. Thought you could use something warm.”

“For me?” he asks, sounding so genuinely touched that your heart does something stupid.

“No, for the other giant dragon esper who just walked out of that Gate,” you deadpan.

Malleus huffs out a soft laugh, the kind that makes you think he doesn’t do it nearly enough. He takes the cup from your hands, fingers brushing against yours, and you don’t miss the way he lingers there for just a second too long.

“You should let me guide you,” you say, reaching for his free hand.

Malleus makes a vague sound of protest. “That isn’t necessary.”

You stare at him.

He stares back.

And then, before he can argue further, you unleash your most powerful technique.

“Please?”

Malleus Draconia—the Apex Esper, the one who holds dominion over storms and shadows, the one who can level an entire battlefield with one command—

Folds like a house of cards.

“…Very well,” he murmurs, looking a little defeated, a little amused.

You beam and take his hand, immediately pressing your energy into his.

And wow, yeah, he definitely needed this.

His presence, which is usually so steady, flickers faintly at the edges. He must have been holding himself together through sheer force of will, because the second you start guiding him, his shoulders finally relax.

Not that he’d ever admit it, of course.

You feel his weight lean into you ever so slightly, just enough that you know he’s letting you support him. His energy curls around yours, vast and dark but gentle, like the hush of a midnight storm.

For a while, neither of you speak.

The night is quiet, save for the distant sounds of other guides working, of espers coming down from battle-highs.

You steal a glance at Malleus. His eyes are half-lidded, his breath even, his fingers curled loosely around yours.

“…You do this often?” he asks suddenly.

“What, guide tired espers?” you shrug. “Yeah. Someone’s gotta be here to catch them before they crash.”

Malleus hums, a thoughtful sound.

“…No,” he says. “I meant… this.”

You blink. “This?”

“Wait for me.”

Oh.

Your grip tightens slightly, a flicker of warmth creeping up your neck.

“I—” You hesitate, then exhale through your nose. “No. Not really.”

Malleus watches you closely. You can feel his gaze on you even as you pointedly avoid meeting it.

“…Then why?” he asks, and his voice is so quiet, so genuine, that you feel yourself falter.

You take a deep breath.

And then, before you can overthink it, you grin.

“Well, you always push yourself too hard,” you say, squeezing his hand once for emphasis. “Someone’s gotta make sure you don’t keel over from exhaustion.”

Malleus huffs, clearly amused. “I assure you, I would not—”

“Uh-huh. Sure.”

He laughs, quiet but real, and your heart skips a very concerning beat.

“…You are quite peculiar,” he muses, gazing at you like you’re some kind of strange, fascinating mystery.

“Yeah, yeah, I get that a lot,” you say, waving a hand. “Now, if you really wanna thank me, take me out for coffee again later.”

Malleus pauses.

You watch, in real-time, as your words settle.

And then—

Slowly, slowly, he smiles.

“…I would like that,” he says, his voice quiet, but so very certain.

And suddenly, the cold doesn’t feel quite so biting anymore.

It was late. Too late. So late that if anyone dared to bother you right now, you would simply keel over and die on the spot out of sheer spite. You had finished your work, logged everything, and were seconds away from clocking out and going home to live as a blanket cryptid when someone grabbed your wrist.

That was already mistake number one.

You turned around, tired and mildly homicidal, to see one of your fellow high-ranking guides standing there. You recognized them—someone competent, someone respected, someone you had never spoken to outside of required work matters.

And yet, here they were, gripping your wrist like you were about to reveal the secrets of the universe to them.

"You got a second?" they asked, eyes shining with something too intense for this ungodly hour.

No. You did not have a second. You barely had the energy to stand upright, let alone entertain whatever nonsense this was about to be. But before you could tell them that, they were already pulling you off to the side, lowering their voice like they were about to ask you for classified information.

"How’d you do it?"

Your brain, already running on fumes, barely processed the question. "Do what?"

"Don't play dumb," they said, looking equal parts exasperated and impressed. "How'd you bewitch Malleus Draconia?"

Your mind, previously sluggish and exhausted, full stopped.

The sheer audacity of the question short-circuited your ability to respond. You just blinked at them, waiting for them to explain whatever the fuck they were talking about.

They misinterpreted your silence as playing coy because they leaned in conspiratorially and hissed, "Don't gatekeep. We want a bite too."

It was at that moment you considered committing actual murder.

"I'm sorry. A bite?" you echoed, voice dangerously calm.

"You got Malleus Draconia—Malleus Draconia—to let you guide him, regularly," they stressed, looking half in awe and half like they wanted to shake you for answers. "No one else has ever gotten close enough to work with him like that. If we knew he was harmless, we would’ve stepped in ages ago. But we weren’t going to take the risk."

You could physically feel something in your brain snap.

So that was it. That was why. It wasn’t that they hadn’t had the opportunity to guide him—it was that they had actively chosen not to. They had taken one look at Malleus, decided it wasn’t worth the effort to risk handling someone as powerful as him, and just left him alone.

And now, because you had proven he wasn’t some terrifying force of destruction, they suddenly wanted in? They suddenly thought they deserved him?

Like he was some exclusive club they wanted membership to?

Your hand twitched. You ripped yourself free from their grip, scowling. "Screw this."

Their eyes widened slightly, clearly not expecting that reaction. "Wait—"

But you were already storming off, anger burning through your exhaustion. You didn’t even realize where you were going until you stepped outside—

And saw Malleus standing there.

Waiting.

For you.

His sharp eyes flickered with concern the second they landed on your face.

"Are you alright?"

Your rage didn't cool, but it twisted into something tighter, something that made your throat close up for an entirely different reason.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you reached out, grabbed his hand, and started dragging him down the street.

Malleus didn’t resist. He simply followed, letting you pull him along like this was perfectly normal behavior.

The café door chimed as you shoved it open with more force than necessary, still stewing over the conversation from earlier. Malleus, utterly unbothered, stepped around you to order both of your usual drinks without hesitation.

The fact that he had memorized your order without ever asking, without making a big deal of it, without using it as some kind of flex, made something in your chest ache.

You sat down at the table, staring blankly at the surface as you tried to untangle your emotions.

Why were you this angry?

Was it because they had ignored him? Because they treated him like some kind of trophy instead of a person? Because they had assumed the worst of him and only changed their minds when it was convenient?

Yes. Absolutely.

But then—why did you also feel like crying?

Your fingers curled into fists on the table.

And that’s when it hit you.

Oh. Oh, fuck.

You liked him.

Like like liked him.

Like the kind of like that made you want to scream into your hands and never recover. The kind of like that made you want to turn back time and stop this from happening before it was too late. The kind of like that meant your life was now ruined beyond repair.

Your whole body tensed, brain going into full meltdown mode.

And then—just to make everything infinitely worse—

A cup slid into view.

You looked up, and there he was.

Malleus.

Standing in front of you, holding out your drink.

His eyes were gentle, studying you carefully, like he could see every single thought racing through your head. "Are you alright?" he asked again, voice quiet, sincere.

And in that moment, you realized you had two options:

• Stay here, drink your drink like a normal person, and accept the horrifying truth of your newfound feelings.

• Launch yourself out of the nearest window and never be seen again.

Option two was looking real tempting right now.

Another night, another gate opening at the worst possible time.

You were so tired. Bone-deep, soul-weary, existentially exhausted. The universe seemed determined to ensure that you never got a full night’s sleep, and you were starting to take it personally.

Still, you were here, bundled up against the cold, sipping a hot drink as you waited for Malleus.

The gate was a high-level one tonight. You knew it had to have been difficult—he was strong, but no one walked out of those things completely unscathed. So you were already standing up, ready to meet him halfway, when—

That guide.

The one who had all but interrogated you last time.

They stepped in before you could move, approaching Malleus with their best professional smile, like they hadn’t spent years pretending he didn’t exist.

"Do you need guidance?" they asked smoothly, their voice dripping with the absolute audacity.

Malleus blinked at them, clearly surprised. Because why wouldn’t he be? No one else but you had ever offered before.

And your chest burned.

Of course he’d pick them.

They were higher-ranked than you. More experienced. More respected. Malleus, despite everything, was still an outsider to most of the guide network, and it would make perfect sense to accept help from someone with more prestige.

You braced yourself, swallowing the bitter feeling threatening to rise—

But then—

He looked past them.

His eyes landed on you.

And then he smiled.

"I must decline," he said simply, voice polite but final.

And then—much to their visible horror—he walked right past them and straight to you.

The sheer triumph that surged through you was immeasurable.

You barely stopped yourself from cackling, but as you took his hand, guiding him like always, the urge to turn back and stick your tongue out at that seething guide was so strong.

Malleus, oblivious to your inner gloating, watched you with a softness that made your heart ache.

And then, suddenly, it all just—

Hit you.

The sheer depth of your feelings, the way your chest tightened at the sight of him, the way everything in you just settled when he was near—

You broke.

You grabbed him, yanking him forward, and before he could even react—

You kissed him.

Malleus let out a surprised sound against your lips, but after only a second of hesitation—

He kissed you back.

It was warm, steady, and when you finally pulled away, he was glowing, his expression soft in a way that made your breath catch.

"I like you, Malleus," you confessed, your voice quieter than you expected.

And his smile—

It was like you had given him the world.

He cupped your face so gently, kissed your forehead like he was sealing the moment into reality.

"I have feelings for you too," he murmured.

You melted.

You leaned against his chest, warmth seeping into you despite the cold night air.

And as his arms wrapped around you, as you felt the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, you couldn’t help but be so glad you had accepted his guidance request all that time ago.

(And okay, maybe you were also smug as hell about it. Because when you glanced back at that other guide—

They looked ready to throw hands.)

You had been waiting.

Patiently. Lovingly. For months.

Malleus loved you. You loved him. You were in a relationship, you slept in the same bed, you guided him, he refused to let anyone else even offer—so what the hell was taking him so long?

Why wouldn’t he just ask?

It was infuriating. It was agonizing. It was the most painfully obvious conclusion to your relationship, and yet—

Malleus refused to bond with you.

And frankly? You were at your limit.

So tonight, as you lay wrapped around each other in bed, his arms comfortably encircling your waist, you finally decided to just ask him.

"Malleus," you said, looking up at him, voice soft but firm. "Why haven’t you asked me to bond yet?"

He stiffened. Just slightly. His fingers twitched where they rested on your back.

And then—

He gave you that look. The sad, gentle smile. The one that made your heart clench because it meant he was about to say something infuriatingly self-sacrificial.

"If you ever regret me," he murmured, "you won’t be able to guide anyone else." His thumb traced circles on your back, soothing even as his words infuriated you. "I don’t want that for you."

You froze.

You stared at him.

And in that moment, you were torn between laughing at his stupidity or crying because how could someone so powerful be so utterly dumb?

So you did neither.

Instead—

You kissed him.

You kissed him until he was breathless, until his arms tightened around you, until his body melted into yours and he let out the softest, neediest little sound against your lips.

When you pulled away, his pupils were blown wide, his expression dazed, and you felt the way his heartbeat had turned erratic beneath your palm.

"You," you whispered, pressing your forehead to his, "are the only thing I've ever been sure of in my life."

Malleus let out a shaky breath.

And then you kissed him again.

You pressed him into the bed, slotting yourself against him, feeling his hands grasp at you like he was afraid you might disappear.

But you wouldn’t.

Because you were here. You chose him.

And that night, you finally bonded—just as you always should have.

Malleus had always been powerful. From the moment he was born, strength had been woven into his very being.

His draconic lineage alone made him stronger than most, but when his Esper abilities awakened, it had set him apart even further. Too far apart.

The strongest being in the world.

And because of that, people had feared him.

It had been that way for as long as he could remember. Even other Espers, who should have understood, kept their distance. Some whispered about him behind closed doors, about how a being as powerful as him didn't need guidance in the first place.

It had been Lilia who had guided him for most of his life, a steady presence who never flinched, never wavered, never treated him as if he were something to be afraid of. But when Lilia lost his guiding abilities, that stability was suddenly gone, leaving Malleus untethered.

For years, he had gone without. And then, one day, he heard about you.

You were a Guide who accepted nearly every request. You had guided Espers with overwhelming abilities, those who were labeled as difficult or too much to handle. You had never turned anyone away. And so, despite knowing the likelihood of rejection, Malleus sent a request.

He had expected nothing to come of it. But instead, he got you.

You had seemed nervous when you first met him, but it wasn’t the type of nervousness he was used to. There was no fear in your eyes, only cautious curiosity—an instinctive wariness, perhaps, but not rejection. And despite whatever initial hesitation you had, your hand had reached for his without trembling. You had guided him.

For the first time in over a decade, Malleus had felt light.

And then, the first time you guided him outside a Gate—

That had been a key moment in his life.

He had stepped out, battle-worn, expecting emptiness. And instead—you had waved at him.

You had smiled at him.

He had thought, at first, that perhaps you had simply been assigned to check on him. That maybe it was some unspoken duty, a requirement of your role. But then, as if that warmth weren’t enough, you had asked him to coffee.

He had expected a quiet outing, a moment to rest and speak with you in a more peaceful setting. Instead, Lilia, Sebek, and Silver had shown up, disguises both laughable and obvious, as if the flimsy mustaches and oversized trench coats could fool anyone. He had braced himself for your irritation, for exasperation or a resigned sigh.

But instead—you had laughed.

And then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, you had welcomed them to join you.

That had been the moment he first thought, perhaps, he liked you.

The first time you had brought him hot chocolate would forever be etched into Malleus’ memory.

It had been a bitterly cold night, the kind where the air cut through even the thickest of coats, where breath curled in the air like mist, and the sky was so crisp and clear that it felt endless.

The battle had left him drained, his energy worn thin in a way he had long since grown accustomed to. He hadn’t expected you to be there. There had been no reason for you to wait for him—you could have guided someone else, finished your duties quickly, and gone home to rest.

But instead, there you were.

Sitting on a bench, bundled in layers, your arms crossed to hold in whatever warmth you could, with two cups of hot chocolate in your hands. You had waved at him like it was the most normal thing in the world, like of course you were waiting for him. Like of course you had brought him something warm to drink.

He had been so startled by the sight that for a moment, he simply stood there, staring, trying to commit every detail to memory. The way the streetlights cast a soft glow against your skin, the way your breath curled in the cold, the way your fingers tapped against the side of the cup as you held it out to him.

He had taken it without a word, still dazed, still trying to process why you had done this. And then, as if you hadn’t just shaken the very foundation of his existence, you had grinned and asked him to take you out for coffee again.

Malleus had never known such warmth, even in the frigid winter.

Then there was the day he had waited for you.

He had been standing outside the guidance center, patiently waiting for you to finish your duties. It had been something of a habit by then—he always waited for you when he could, just as you waited for him. He enjoyed the way your eyes lit up when you spotted him, the way you always greeted him like you had been expecting to see him there.

But that day, when you finally stepped outside, there was no warm smile, no familiar greeting. Instead, you stormed out, eyes blazing, frustration radiating off you in waves. Malleus had barely opened his mouth to ask what was wrong before you grabbed his wrist and started dragging him down the street.

He followed without hesitation, allowing you to pull him along, his mind still catching up to what was happening. You had led him straight to your usual café, barely stopping to take a breath as you shoved the door open and beelined for your favorite spot. Malleus sat across from you, watching with quiet curiosity as you fumed, hands clenched around your menu, your foot tapping aggressively against the floor.

And then, as the tension in your shoulders refused to ease, as you let out a frustrated huff and glared at your drink like it had personally offended you, you had finally told him what had made you so upset.

They had questioned you. They had asked how you had bewitched him, of all people. Like he was some trophy, some untouchable relic that no one had dared lay claim to until you had somehow managed to crack the code. They had assumed that if he were harmless enough to guide, then they would have taken him for themselves. They had spoken about him like he was something to be owned.

Malleus had expected you to be upset. What he hadn’t expected was for you to be so furious on his behalf.

And he shouldn’t have liked it—shouldn’t have felt anything beyond quiet gratitude for your defense of him. But there was something ugly in his chest, something selfish and dark that thrived off the way your anger was so fiercely his.

For so long, people had feared him, had rejected him, had kept him at a distance out of self-preservation. And yet, here you were, not just standing by his side, but fighting for him, defending him, choosing him.

And he wanted that.

He wanted the way you almost stormed into battle for him. He wanted the way your voice shook with anger because you cared about how he was treated. He wanted the way you grabbed his wrist without hesitation, the way you dragged him to this café because he was the person you sought out in your frustration.

He wanted you.

And as you finally sighed, your anger fading just enough for you to take a sip of your drink, Malleus came to a quiet realization.

He had liked you before. But now?

Now, he was falling.

Malleus had never expected to be offered guidance by anyone else.

It had never once crossed his mind as a possibility—he had long since grown used to being avoided, used to the way others hesitated to even meet his eyes, let alone reach out to him. The moment he stepped out of the Gate, still feeling the lingering exhaustion of battle, he had been prepared to find you, as he always did.

And yet, instead of you, there was someone else.

A guide—one he recognized, one who had been among those who had always turned away from him before. And now, suddenly, they were standing before him, offering their assistance as if it were something he needed, as if he should be grateful.

Malleus didn’t even consider it.

How could he? How could anyone else fill the space that was meant for you? How could he even entertain the thought of accepting someone else’s hand when your hand was the only one he ever wanted to hold?

So he simply stepped past them, not bothering to spare them a second glance, not wasting a single breath on an answer. Because they were irrelevant.

Because you were there.

And the moment he spotted you, standing just a few steps away with that bright, warm expression that was meant only for him, he felt something in his chest ease. Like everything had shifted back into place, like the air had cleared, like he was where he was supposed to be.

And when you laughed, really laughed, like this was all some great joke only the two of you were in on, he thought it might be his favorite sound in the world.

And then you took his hand, and the moment your fingers intertwined with his, he knew with absolute certainty—there was no one else for him. There never could be.

And then you kissed him.

For all his years, for all his strength, for all his wisdom, Malleus Draconia had never once been prepared for this.

You had grabbed him, pulled him in, and pressed your lips to his, and Malleus had let out an embarrassingly surprised sound before his instincts took over, before his hands found their way to your waist, before he was kissing you back like he had been waiting for this moment for centuries.

And maybe he had been.

Because when you pulled back, just far enough to whisper, “I like you, Malleus,” he felt like the world had stopped spinning, like time itself had come to a halt just to give him this moment, just to let him have this.

And when he smiled, it was because it felt like you had just handed him the world.

So he kissed your forehead, let his lips linger against your skin, and whispered against you, “I have feelings for you too.”

And when you leaned against him, when you let yourself rest against his chest, Malleus felt something settle in his soul.

He was home.

Then you asked him to bond.

And Malleus hesitated.

Not because he didn’t love you—he did. He had never loved anything the way he loved you.

But because he was afraid.

Because bonding with him meant forever. It meant you would be tied to him, it meant you would never be able to guide anyone else, it meant that if one day you woke up and realized you regretted him—realized you wanted something else, something more, something that wasn’t him—then you would be trapped.

And he could not, would not, allow that to happen to you.

So he had told you no. Not because he didn’t want you, not because he didn’t ache for you in ways he could never put into words, but because he would die before he let you shackle yourself to him forever.

And then you had kissed him.

Hard.

You had pressed him into the bed, breathless and unyielding, your lips against his like you were trying to prove something.

And maybe you were.

Because when you finally pulled back, when your fingers threaded through his hair and your forehead rested against his, you whispered, “You’re the best decision I’ve ever made.”

And Malleus—Malleus, who had spent his entire life waiting to be chosen, waiting to be wanted—felt his walls crumble.

So he let himself believe you.

He let himself hope.

And when he kissed you again, when he let his hands roam over your skin and let himself take you, it wasn’t just an acceptance of your love.

It was a promise.

A promise that no matter what, no matter where life took you, no matter how much time passed—he would always be yours.

And as the bond settled between you, as he felt the pull of your soul entwining with his, Malleus let himself hope for more.

He hoped you would be with him forever.

You woke up feeling warm.

Not just from the blankets wrapped around you, or the way the room was still dim from the early morning light, but from the way Malleus was wrapped around you.

His arms held you firm but gentle, his breath soft against your forehead, his body curled protectively around yours. It was comfort in its purest form.

You smiled, still basking in the afterglow of your bond, and tilted your head up to kiss him.

Malleus stirred, letting out a sleepy hum as his lips curved into a small, contented smile against yours. His eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep, and you both just… looked at each other.

The love in his gaze was overwhelming.

So, naturally, you asked the most important question of your life.

"Was the egg picture that Lilia showed me actually you?"

Malleus blinked.

Then blinked again.

And then, to your absolute delight, he looked flabbergasted.

"You—" He stopped, as if trying to process the sheer absurdity of your first words after bonding. "That is the first thing you wish to ask me?"

You nodded, completely serious. "I've been meaning to ask for a while."

And then—

Malleus laughed.

Laughed and laughed.

Deep and rich, his chest vibrating against yours as his entire body shook with amusement.

You pouted and waited for him to get it together, only for him to kiss your forehead, still grinning.

"Yes," he admitted, eyes twinkling. "That was me."

You gasped. Vindication.

Finally.

The mystery that had plagued you for months was solved.

With a triumphant little noise, you snuggled back into him, pressing your face against his chest as sleep threatened to claim you again.

Malleus chuckled, tucking you closer, and as he rested his chin atop your head, he couldn’t help but think—

Despite your eccentricities, he had never been happier than being yours.

Masterlist

#twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x reader #malleus draconia #twisted wonderland malleus #malleus draconia x you #guideverse x reader #guideverse #࣪ ִֶָ☾. guideverse

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mikasa-imadebiscults · 11 months ago

Note

im OBSESSED with demon slayer + ur work!!

could you pls do the hashira reaction to their s/o giving them lots of affection so they let their guard down, and then they suddenly start a pillow fight and tickle them?

This was funny in my head 😭

(HEY ANON! YOU’RE OBSESSED WITH MY WORK?? THAT’S CRAZY, THANK YOU SO MUCH. The kind words really mean a lot. Anyways I hope you enjoy this and have a wonderful day.)

Hashira with an Affectionate S/O

(Characters Included- All the Hashira)

(Warning: Fluff, fluff, fluff)

🦋Shinobu Kocho🦋

- Likes the affection you give her. Especially if you give her a massage after a long stressful day. She loves to reciprocate it back by tracing your scars or marks, giving you a quick peck on the lips, and etc.

- Unfortunately for you, if you decide to start any pillow fights, you’ll lose. Shinobu is very fast and can dodge your “attacks” easily. Having these silly little fights relieves her from the stresses of the world. She’s grateful that she can have these moments with you.

🐍Iguro Obanai🐍

- Not big on PDA cause he gets embarrassed but doesn’t mind small things like holding hands and the sort.

- Obanai was just enjoying the silence with you wrapped in his haori and saw you grab the pillow. He thought you were just adjusting it until it headed towards his face. He blocked it with his arm and before he could even say a word you tickled him. He flinched because he’s a little ticklish but managed to stop you. He was like “How dare you” afterwards, but secretly he didn’t mind this silly side of yours.

🍡Mitsuri Kanroji🍡

- Always accepts the affection openly. She’s big on PDA, everyone can instantly tell that you two are dating. Squeezes you in the biggest hug before letting you go to get oxygen.

- One day when you two were cuddling, you felt the need to choose (playful) violence. So you swiftly grabbed the nearest pillow and hit your girlfriend with it. When she felt a pillow hit her face it stunned her a bit but she quickly snapped out of it and fought back. Both you and her were laughing nonstop.

🔥Kyojuro Rengoku🔥

- He thinks your affectionate side is admirable. Always reciprocates it when he can. Some of his favorite things that you do is when you surprise him with a hug and lean on him whenever you’re tired or sleeping.

- When you started the pillow fight he chuckled at it and asked if you’re challenging him. As soon as you said yeah he’ll be like “Alright then, prepare yourself.” And the both of you will just have a good time being silly together.

🔊Tengen Uzui🔊

- He always smiles or chuckles at the affection. Definitely would crack your back if he hugged you back really hard. Though when you’re hugging him, he mainly puts one hand on your back while the other is patting your head.

- You won’t be able to surprise him, he’ll hear the pillow coming from a mile away and grab it. Once he has it he’ll throw it at you while saying something cocky like “You thought that you could sneak in an attack against ME?”

☁️Muichiro Tokito☁️

- He is confused at first on why you were so affectionate but he doesn’t mind it. Might be a little tense though.

- You’ll definitely catch him off guard if you hit him when he’s zoned out. He’ll instantly snap out of it and start dodging the pillows. If you tried to tickle him he’d grab your hand and tickle your stomach as revenge. He would be laughing while you’re trying to get free.

🌪️Sanemi Shinazugawa🌪️

- Secretly enjoys your affection but he mainly reciprocates it in private when it’s just you and him instead of in public.

- When the both of you were laying down together, you suddenly ticked him and he quickly moved away. He wouldn’t even face you because of the embarrassment because he didn’t want you to find out that he was a bit ticklish. (He will still deny it even after the incident)

🌊Giyuu Tomioka🌊

- He gets used to your affection after a few weeks of dating you. Tries to reciprocate but it’ll take him time. Though he does get better over time.

- He was all relaxed until you suddenly hit him in the face with a pillow. He would be confused about the sudden pillow fight. He’ll just sit there and blink at you while he’s still getting hit. Then he’ll question if he did something wrong so you’ll have to reassure him.

🪨Gyomei Himejima🪨

- Gyomei enjoys your affection and tries his best to reciprocate it. Though he’ll be a lot more gentle than you, for example if you hug him really tightly he’ll hug back gently because he doesn’t want to hurt you.

- He’s not ticklish so if you tried to tickle him it wouldn’t have an effect on him. Though he will be smiling at you cause he thinks you’re adorable.

Masterlist

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inadvisablebutinevitable · 10 days ago

Text

socmed part 5

Socmed au part 5!!! (Part 4)

I have a lot to explain I KNOW. I’m sorry apparently I’m incapable of writing silly happy fun stuff, it’s the bane of my existence. im sorry about the twinyard fight!! I’m especially sorry that I didn’t move that plot along after the beginning, I have a couple scenes planned to progress that plot and make things happy again but I was just too exhausted to write it this week so I will absolutely include it in part 6!! Coming out who knows when!! I don’t know what happened to Kevin’s profile pic and I’m too tired to fix it so let’s assume Neil gave him a profile pic that was the exact shade of white as the header ig. Ummm I based Jeremy’s experience with homophobic fans off of real life things I’ve seen happen regarding queer people and pride in the sporting world, the hockey world mostly. I wanted to make it really really clear that I wasn’t trying to diminish the experience of queer WOMEN in sports by talking about the backlash men face, and I know there’s a lot of nuance to this debate that I didn’t address because I didn’t really know how to. Exy is a mainstream, very popular co-Ed sport, and it was hard for me to draw parallels between fan responses in real life to fan responses in a world where people just accept sports that aren’t segregated by gender. So yeah, if anyone has any problems with the way I addressed this I’m sorry, feel free to dm me if you have any concerns!

ALSO I owe a GIANT thank you to @givemethedamnflowers for helping me with the French translation! Roughly translated, Jeremy is telling Jean “thank you love, you make me brave”.

Finally!! I’m going to release a little half part (either 5.5 or 6.5) kind of doing some background and world building regarding where the main cast is in 2016, how they got there, and who else on the US court this year! So keep an eye out for that if u want more backstory!

sorry for the monster-long rant! If I missed ur name in the tags pls dm me and I’ll add you!

I love you all and thanks for reading <3

tag list: @little2nerdy @astrocat2913 @anxiouslyandmessily @if-you-dont-ask-me-to-stay @floretissogay @tedious-malcontent @solanacae-0918 @lily-s-world @cosmicallydivine @crowned-dumbass @aftg-bs @beatrix33 @givemethedamnflowers @andrewsleftarmband @aidoneusmelindia @bisexualchaosdemon @aftgphoenix @justaboredcryptid @weralika @forallthespanofhisdays @chaos-interwoven @vellichor-lover @batscentedbouquetperson @very-small-flower @millportisntreal @croutoncube @afantasyoffiction @organizedchaos03 @jean-yvesning @escreviste @melodious-at @dangerousstarmoon @undercovergirl @bumble-bean-boy

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ryusuisloveinterest · 4 months ago

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Hello, 🚙anon here. Will be throwing a few ideas in separate asks.

Main cast boys (Ryusui, Senku, Tsukasa, Ukyo, Chrome, someone else?) and an s/o who is protective.

A jealous enemy or a nasty accident. We all know they will defend their s/o, but what will happen, if the reverse would have to occur?

hello 🚙 anon! I’m sorry that I’m slacking with all the requests but I tried to give it my all with this one! Pls enjoy💕

Ryusui, Senku, Tsukasa, Ukyo, and Chrome, with a protective s/o💘

Ryusui:

I would say Ryusui would be flattered to have a protective s/o

There was one day when you guys were building the Perseus and you overheard some people smack talking Ryusui

“I bet that new guy Ryusui doesn’t care about saving anyone. I’m sure he’s just making us build this thing just so he can have one.”

Your head quickly perks up, eyeing the random npc who said that

“Excuse me??” You say, “Ryusui would NEVER do something like that”

Now you’re all up in this guys face

“Don’t even think for a second that Ryusui is so selfish that he doesn’t care about anyone at all! He’s the kindest person in the world and don’t you ever forget that again!”

When Ryusui heard about your outburst he quickly finds you and throws himself all over you

“My sweet y/n! Your words make me so happy I could eat you all up!” He says this as he’s tightly holding you and jokingly biting your cheek and kissing you all over your face

But he gets serious

“But you don’t have to worry about people’s words dear. As much as I appreciate you standing up for me I would hate if it got you into serious trouble trying to defend me. Words will always be words sweetheart, and you will always be my love<3”

Ryusui would hate it if you or someone started a fight just over some words said about him

He couldn’t care less on how the world sees him good for you baby! As long as he’s seen with nothing but love in your eyes screw what everyone else has to say!

But let’s say when you guys get to America and Stanley’s doing what Stanley does best and shooting up a storm at all of you

You see Ryusui about to get hit as you push him to the ground and use your body as a shield

At first Ryusui is flabbergasted

He’s so used to you being so calm and collected and a tad bit goofy but now you’re all protective and defensive!

But Ryusui doesn’t sit back for too long because he pushes you back as well

You two probably keep doing this to each other until you both get hurt

It doesn’t really help anyone lol

If you get seriously injured protecting him then he’ll get so hard on himself but do his best to help you back to your normal self

He might even distance himself from you when you’re all better because he thinks you might get hurt again :(

Senku

I don’t think Senku would notice and or care if you were protective of him or not

When you were hearing some of the villagers smack talking about him because of all the work that he gives them

You of course talk back, saying how Senku’s the reason why the village is so safe and how all these cool inventions are being made so they better shut their mouth or you’re just gonna hafta-

“Y/n! What the hell are you doing?? Those bolts were supposed to be done 10 minutes ago!!!”

Senku just appears out of nowhere to scold you lol

You try to explain yourself, saying that some guy was insulting him, and bro does not gaf 💀

“Ok???? Who cares??? Pls just get your work done!!!”

You’re kinda hurt thats that was his reaction

But as you’re walking away…!!!

“But…thanks anyway y/n. Just don’t waste your breath on me.”

You can see his red ears from the corner of your eye and now everything’s all better!

Now as for physically protecting him, it doesn’t happen a lot cause he’s always thinking about how to do things scientifically, but when Stanley shoots at Senku and you push him out of the way only for you to get hurt, he kinda blanks for a second

But that second doesn’t last long at all because he quickly starts trying to help you, despite being in Stanley’s line of fire

After everything’s all said and done and you’re awake and recovering, he lets you have it

“What were you thinking???!!! That’s was a stupid idea for you to jump in front of a literal gunshot!!! What if you died Y/N???! What if you left me??!!!!”

Yeah he’s kinda mad at you for doing something so bold, but he’s more mad about the fact that despite having a plan, it won’t always work, and the result of that was you getting hurt

He blames himself for not acting fast enough

“I….im sorry Senku… I just didn’t want to see you hurt that’s all…”

That’s all he has to hear to hold you tight and start to cry in your hair

That’s when he says those rare 3 words

“I love you moron…don’t ever scare me like that again…”

Tsukasa

Don’t even try💀

At least don’t try to physically protect him

Like there’s literally no reason and/or way to

He either one, saves you first

Or two, literally gets hit and is not affected at all

But if someone were stupid enough to smack talk him, you’d be the first one to go defend him

Someone’s still salty that he was busting down statues?

“You don’t know anything about that situation! Were you there when it happened??? Then you can’t say anything!!”

Someone’s jealous that he’s one of the most attractive men in this show?? Besides Ryusui ofc<3

“Don’t be mad Tsukasa’s gorgeous and you’re not! And it’s not his face that’s just gorgeous! It’s his beautiful soul too!”

No one really replies to you like for Ryusui or Senku’s case

No one wants to risk saying the wrong thing

After all if they say the wrong thing Tsukasa will just destroy them☺️

Ukyo

If anyone has anything bad to say about Ukyo then they’re wrong Ukyo has probably, sadly, heard it

His ears are able to hear pretty much anything so he’d be able to hear whatever bad things people had to say about him

But! He’s also able to hear you defend him

“Ukyo’s the most important general!” You say to some random hater, “his insight is more than valuable! So don’t ever say anything like that about him again!”

He can’t help but smile to himself and Senku gets weirded out at his sudden change in behavior

Ukyo won’t really say anything about it, you’ll just be met with a soft kiss or a million I love yous

If you were to physically protect him then I think he might crash out 😶

When you push him out of the way of an attack, he can hear the pain in your voice, and it just breaks him

Immediately tends to you, doesn’t matter if hes still in the line of fire or he has wounds of his own

He scolds you when you wake up, but not as fiercely as Senku

It’s just a soft, tearful “what were you thinking? You could’ve seriously got hurt… well I mean look at you… please never scare me like that again…”

He’s definitely got more of an eye on you after that

Chrome:

Chrome has always been called weird for his “sorcery”

But anyone who calls him that now is gonna get a long lecture from his s/o

“Chrome actually uses nothing but science and is actually helping the kingdom of science out a lot so you should watch the way you talk!!”

He appreciates this more than he lets on

He’ll probably give you a, “it’s not that big of a deal y/n” and walk away but he actually is really happy

If you seen One Piece, you know how chopper will be saying not to praise him but act all giddy anyway?

Yeah that’s Chrome

As for physical protection? He’s actually flabbergasted

Like buddy did not know you were capable of such strength

But if you were to get seriously hurt then he’d start panicking real fast

Suika’s gonna have to calm him down while Senku or someone starts tending to your wounds but quickly jumps in and tries to help

Gets all teary eyed when you’re better saying things along the lines of “you really scared me” or “don’t do anything so rash next time!”

#dr stone #dcst #dr stone headcanons #ryusui nanami #ryusui nanami headcanons #ryusui nanami x reader #senku ishigami #senku ishigami x reader #senku x reader #tsukasa shishio #tsukasa shishio headcanons #tsukasa shishio x reader #ukyo saionji #ukyo saionji x reader #ukyo saionji headcanons #chrome dr stone #chrome #chrome x reader

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modanisgf · 8 months ago

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Hey pookie! can i request megan x fem reader story where megan starts getting attracted to reader and questioning her sexuality, so she distances herself from her and things get awkward between them, and when confronted about it she ends up confessing?

(can u tell the delusions are getting into my head lol)

— GOOD LUCK, BABE! , MEGAN SKIENDIEL

“YOU’D HAVE STOP THE WORLD, JUST TO STOP THE FEELING.”

✎ SYNOPSIS — in which megan doesn’t understand her feelings for you, causing her to act on them stupidly.

✎ PAIRING(S) — katseye!megan x 7th member!reader

✎ WARNING(S) — megan and reader are stupid asf, kissing, pacing is weird pls dont crucify me. 😓😓, and not proof read..

KATSEYE MASTERLIST

it all started in the dance practice room one day where you felt like you were about to die. you were ranting to daniela about how you needed to hit the gym more, making the girl laugh at you.

“y/n you’re fine, i’m sure practice will come a bit easier to you soon.” daniela says, the encouraging words making you smile.

you stretched and thanked the girl, your stretch causing your shirt to rise up a little. you didn’t even notice, but the ginger girl on the other side of the room did. a little too much.

megan could feel her cheeks heat up at the sight of you, making her mumble curses under her breath. she had no idea why you made her feel so nervous, it had only started happening recently once the two of you got closer.

sure megan could recognize your beauty even in the dream academy days, but it never stood out to her as much as it did now. the way your smile never failed to brighten her day, the way your eyes shine whenever someone mentioned your interests, or even the way your eyebrows furrowed in anger whenever you messed up in a game were enough to make her feel attracted to you. wait— what was she even thinking? she doesn’t like girls, right?

lara was concerned about her ginger roommate as the girl seemed heavily lost in fault, “megan hello?” she says placing a hand on the girls shoulder.

“oh sorry.” megan says, finally being taken out of her thoughts.

“are you okay?” lara asks, to which megan nods.

"i just got distracted." megan says, giving lara a nervous smile. she knew lara wouldn't judge her for whatever she felt for you, but she still wanted to keep it under wraps for a bit.

"mmmhmm." lara says dragging out the word, making megan groan.

"i'm not telling you lara."

"you're so fake!"

—

the next instance was actually how lara figured out why megan had been acting so weirdly. it was in the evening and the katz were all eating dinner together around their kitchen. everyone seemed to be enjoying their time, while you were actually kind of upset, megan had been pretty much ignoring you all day.

you tried to talk to her but no matter what you did she would just slowly walk away, and talk to another one of your members. you knew it shouldn’t bother you this much, but you couldn’t help but feel jealous when you saw megan and lara together laughing. you wanted that to be you and megan together, just like it used to be.

little did you know, the two were actually deep in conversation about you. megan was ranting about how she felt around you recently, making lara laugh.

“so you like her?” lara asks, to which megan nods not thinking.

she only realized once the girl beside her gasped, making her backtrack on her words.

"i meant like! as a friend, or— i don't even know." megan sighs, giving up on trying to explain herself.

"she just makes me feel so nervous, and it's so confusing. i have no idea if i'm in love with her or she intimidates me." megan says, holding her head in hands out of stress. she moves quickly though to take a bite of her food, she was too focused on her conversation though missing the small mess she made.

"those are pretty different feelings girl." lara says, making megan glare at her.

"i'm actually gonna fight you." megan deadpans, making lara laugh again. (she found megan's suffering a little too funny.)

megan was too busy glaring at lara who was now on the floor dying to notice that you were now right next to her, the sound of your voice making her yelp.

"oh my god sorry megan." you apologize quickly, raising your hands up in front of you as if you were defending yourself.

"it's okay y/n." megan says, sighing in relief.

"can you look at me?" you say abrutly, confusing megan.

"um okay?" she replies, turning towards you.

you held up a napkin to her face, carefully wiping it making sure to not startle her.

"okay thank you." you say smiling, "it was bothering me sorry." you say sheepishly, somehow not noticing how red the girl in front of you was.

the close proximity between you two in that moment made megan feel like heart was going to stop with how fast it was beating. megan stared into your eyes for a moment letting herself admire you before she shook her head mentally, coming back to present time.

“it’s fine, thank you.” megan says, finally replying to you.

she gave you a small smile that melted your heart, you made an effort to return it before being cut off by megan herself. she moved away from you to put her dish in the washer, speaking up soon after.

“i think i’m gonna go to bed early, goodnight guys!” megan announces, waving to her members before heading down the hallway to her room.

all of your members waved back, calling out goodnight to her except you. you stood there dumbfounded, and once again you felt upset. did you do something wrong? why was she being so distant?

you needed an answer. you ran towards the hallway not even wasting a second to explain anything to your members, leaving confused expressions of all of their faces except lara.

“is everything okay?” sophia asks, getting shrugs from all of her members.

she turned to lara to see an unreadable expression on the girls face, it finally making sense once she spoke up.

“something is about to go down.” lara says simply, leaving a concerned expression on sophia’s face.

meanwhile you knocked on megan’s door, a bit too hard making the girl jump.

“i’m trying to sleep!” megan shouts, she was confused as to who was bothering her. she knew it couldn’t be lara she wouldn’t have knocked.

all of her confusion was wiped away once she heard your voice, her heart dropping to her ass.

“it’s me megan.” you respond.

“i-“

“can i please come in?”

megan sat up on her bed before speaking, “yeah.” she states, beginning to prepare herself to see your face again.

you open the door almost seconds after her response, the look on your face making megan’s heart break.

you looked so unbelievably upset, it looked like you hadn’t gotten much sleep lately either dark circles now lining your eyes that she failed to notice earlier. was this her fault? or who were you mad at? a thousand questions ran through her brain, before you interrupted her train of thought.

“megan.” you deadpan, your ominous tone made megan nervous looking everywhere but you.

“look at me please.” you say, looking at her softly now. you knew you couldn’t be angry with her for long, her pretty face always drew you in.

megan looked at you like you asked, the intimacy of the moment making her cheeks heat up again. it was a sweet moment until you spoke again, all of megans previous feelings disappearing almost instantly.

“why have you been ignoring me?” you ask, failing to mask the hurt look on your face from the ginger girl in front of you.

“what?” megan says, she didn’t know why she was acting dumb but it felt like an easier escape in her mind.

“why have you been ignoring me megan? i can’t ever talk to you without you walking away or making some dumb excuse.” you say firmly, you needed her to listen to your words and not just neglect them anymore.

“y/n i—“ megan starts, stopping herself for a moment.

she felt so nauseous, regardless of her getting confronted by her crush right now you were also so close to her. it seemed wrong to say in the time but you looked so pretty in that moment, the way your brows furrowed in frustration and how your hands were clutching her blanket tightly and— wait. megan scolded herself mentally, straightening her posture as she remembered you were waiting for an answer.

megan had no idea how to explain the truth though, how was she supposed to tell you the reason she avoided you was because she had a huge crush on you? a crush so bad that every time you got close to her, made any sweet gestures towards her, or even something as small as smiling at her she wanted to curl up in a ball and die out of happiness.

“megan, hellooo?” you say, shaking her gently.

“oh sorry.” megan mumbles quietly, just loud enough for you to hear.

“i just.” megan starts, looking down and then back at up at you. your eyes locked, making her even more anxious.

“y/n i really like you. like in a romantic way, and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same you know cause i wouldn’t wanna ruin our friendship! youhavetoseemeeverydaytooican’timagine—!” megan says so fast you can barely understand what she was saying.

“megan.” you say, a smile growing across your face.

you took her hand into yours, not missing the way her eyes lit up.

“i like you too, a lot actually.” you say sheepishly, looking away from megan in embarrassment.

“oh.” was all that megan could muster out, her voice wavering even after just trying to say one word.

you giggle at your crush or whatever you two were, her nervous state making you rub circles onto her thumb. there were a couple beats of silence before your thoughts got the best of you.

“can i kiss you?” you blurt, your hand instantly going to cover you mouth. you attempted to apologize, quickly being cut off by megan.

“yeah.” she stated simply, her eyes locked onto your lips.

you gave the girl a quick peck, before she pulled you in for more wrapping her arms around your waist. you put your arms around her neck, deepening the kiss. it went on for a bit longer, before you both pulled away for air.

you placed a hand on megan’s cheek, laughing at how stupid you two were. she tightened her grip on your waist, making you smile.

“i should’ve known, i saw you staring at me during practice you know?” you say, your laugh growing louder at the shocked expression on megan’s face.

“huh?!” she yelps, turning away from you in embarrassment.

“you aren’t as subtle as you think pretty girl.” you say, running your hands through megan’s hair.

“shut up…” megan mumbles.

“so… does this mean we’re girlfriends now?” megan asks, trying to smoothly change the topic giving you a bright smile.

“megan, we just sat here and kissed for five minutes?”

“is that a no?..”

“oh my god.”

#katseye #katseye x reader #megan skiendiel #megan katseye #megan skiendiel x reader #megan katseye x reader

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cami040405 · 2 months ago

Note

WAIT OMG I JUST THOUGHT OF ANOTHER I’D LOVE TO SEE YOU DO PLS

Bo, Thomas, and Brahms with a fem!/gn! s/o that lovess Valentine’s day? Like, dresses in all pink and red with hearts and roses, puts in a lot of thought with their gifts and gives a lot of them, etc.

Bo Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt & Brahms Heelshire with a S/O Who Loves Valentine’s Day

Summary: Imagine Bo Sinclair, Thomas Hewitt and Brahms Heelshire with a S/O who loves Valentine's Day so much, gives them gifts, dresses in pink, makes cute decorations and plans

A/N: Thank you very much for the request, I was very happy to write it, I found it very cute and creative.

Bo Sinclair

Bo Sinclair has never cared about Valentine’s Day.

In his mind, it’s always been some commercial scam for desperate people. He’s the kind of man who scoffs when he sees red and pink banners in town—who rolls his eyes at those cheesy heart-shaped boxes.

Love? Love was a weapon people used to lie, manipulate, or leave you bleeding.

So the first time you stroll into the living room dressed in a full pink and red ensemble—hearts stitched into your sleeves, rose patterns embroidered along your skirt, a bright, warm smile lighting up your face—Bo almost chokes on his coffee.

“What in the hell are you wearin’, darlin’?” he drawls, voice dripping in sarcasm, leaning back on the worn-out couch like he couldn't care less.

You just giggle and spin for him, your outfit twirling, radiating warmth and happiness in a way Bo’s cold little world isn’t used to.

You hand him a small red envelope, sealed with a kiss-shaped sticker. He stares at it like it might explode in his hands.

“Go on,” you urge him sweetly. “Open it.”

Inside is a card—handmade, obviously—full of messy doodles and a heartfelt, genuine message: how much you love him, how grateful you are for him, how you see goodness in him no one else ever bothered to find.

Bo feels something heavy and unfamiliar lodge in his chest.

Of course, he masks it behind a scoff. “Tch. You’re ridiculous,” he grumbles, but he’s careful—so careful—folding the card back up and slipping it into his jacket pocket instead of tossing it aside.

Later, when he thinks you’re not looking, you’ll catch him opening it again, thumbing the edge of the paper, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to memorize every damn word.

You don’t stop there. Throughout the day, you shower him with little gifts—small things he wouldn’t have thought he needed:

A sturdy new set of work gloves (hand-stitched with a tiny heart inside the wrist); His favorite beer, chilled and waiting for him; A mixtape you made—full of bluesy rock songs that remind you of him.

Every time he tries to pretend he doesn’t like it, you just beam at him and say, “Happy Valentine’s, Bo.”

At some point, he stops fighting it.

Maybe it’s when you kiss him, smearing a little of your cherry-red lipstick onto his stubble, and he realizes how fiercely protective he feels about that smile of yours.

Maybe it’s when he sees you laughing with Lester and even Vincent, throwing heart-shaped candies at them, and for once, the house doesn’t feel like a tomb.

Maybe it's just you.

You, who love him so easily and so completely that he feels like less of a monster, more of a man.

He doesn’t know how to say it aloud—never has been good with words—so he shows it the only way he knows how:

Later that night, you’ll find a rough little box on your bed, clumsily wrapped in butcher paper.

Inside, there’s a necklace—not expensive, but real silver, with a tiny heart charm—and a note in Bo’s scrawled handwriting:

“Ain’t never had anyone like you. Don’t wanna lose it.”

No “Happy Valentine’s Day.” No mushy words. Just Bo Sinclair, giving you his heart the only way he knows how: raw, imperfect, but real.

And when you throw your arms around him, gushing about how perfect it is, he’ll grumble and tease you—

—but he’ll hold you so tight against him that you know, without a single word,

Bo Sinclair is yours.

EXTRA: Valentine's Day: Year Two

You ruined him.

That’s the thought running through Bo’s head as he stands in the dimly lit kitchen of Ambrose, staring at a crooked, slightly burnt cake, a bottle of cheap champagne, and a half-wilted bouquet of red roses.

He runs a frustrated hand through his hair, muttering curses under his breath.

“This is stupid... so damn stupid...” he grumbles.

But he still checks his watch again.

You’re due back soon—and for once, Bo Sinclair wants to get it right.

He remembers how your face lit up last year, how you twirled in your heart-covered dress, how you loved him without hesitation.

No one ever made him feel like he deserved that kind of joy before.

You made him want to try.

So here he is: Bo-fucking-Sinclair, tough guy, murderer, mechanic, nervous wreck, standing in the middle of a kitchen that smells faintly of burnt sugar and engine oil, trying to give you the kind of Valentine’s Day he thinks you deserve.

He tried to bake a cake from scratch. (Didn’t trust Lester not to mess it up, and Vincent, bless him, just silently pushed the cookbook toward him and left.)

It’s lopsided, a little sad looking—but Bo carved a tiny heart into the frosting with a knife, rough and shaky.

He bought roses, too—the only ones the gas station had left, even if some petals are drooping—and duct-taped a Valentine’s card to the bouquet because he forgot to buy tape.

The card is cheesy, glittery, and not something he would have ever picked under normal circumstances...but he spent twenty minutes standing in the aisle reading every damn one to find one that said something close to what he felt.

"You're the only one who sees the real me."

When you finally walk through the door, wearing yet another ridiculously cute outfit—this time a pink and red sweater covered in little embroidered roses—Bo almost chickens out. He almost slams the door shut, grumbles something about “forget it,” and acts like nothing’s happening.

But you see it immediately. The mess of a cake. The bouquet leaning precariously in an old coffee mug.

The card taped like a battlefield casualty.

The man himself, standing stiff, arms crossed, trying to pretend he doesn't care when he’s vibrating with nerves.

Your hands fly to your mouth. “Bo... you did all this for me?” you gasp.

He shrugs, cheeks flushed dark pink under his tan. "Don’t get all weepy about it," he mutters, pretending to sound tough.

(He’s horrible at pretending around you.)

"Just figured... figured you oughta have a proper Valentine’s Day, ‘stead of just me bein' an asshole like usual."

You practically launch yourself at him, hugging him so tight he grunts. He smells like motor oil and a hint of smoke, and underneath it all, he smells like home.

“I love it, Bo. I love you," you whisper into his chest.

He holds you there, squeezing your waist, resting his chin on your head. “Yeah, well," he says gruffly, "don’t expect me to do this every damn year."

But you can feel the way his lips brush your forehead, soft and careful. You can hear the way his heart races against yours.

And you know he’s already planning next year, whether he admits it or not.

Later, you eat the ugly cake together (it’s half-raw but you swear it’s delicious). You toast with the cheap champagne. You dance, slow and swaying, in the flickering light of the old chandelier in the Sinclair house. And when Bo kisses you, tasting like frosting and frustration and love, you realize:

This, messy and imperfect and wildly real—

This is the best Valentine’s Day you could ever dream of.

Thomas Hewitt + Family

At first, Thomas doesn’t really understand why you’re so excited. In the Hewitt household, holidays had always been either barely acknowledged or turned into grim affairs. Valentine’s Day, especially, wasn’t anything more than just another date on the dusty calendar.

But then you came along—wearing pinks and reds so bright it almost hurt to look at in the muted tones of the Hewitt house. Heart-shaped earrings, rosy lipstick, floral perfume that drifts sweetly into the kitchen where he’s working. It’s like you’re color and warmth personified, something Thomas didn’t know he needed until you were twirling around the kitchen, humming love songs under your breath.

At first, he’s shy about it. When you press a glitter-covered card into his massive hands, he stares at it like it’s something sacred. It’s handmade, with uneven little hearts cut out of construction paper, a scribbled message inside that reads:

"To my sweet Tommy, You deserve every bit of love today and every day. Always yours."

He looks from the card to you, to the card again, his brow furrowed like he’s trying to solve it. No one has ever given him something like this—not because they had to, but because they wanted to. It makes his chest ache in a way he doesn’t have the words for.

You don’t stop there. You spend days preparing little things: a basket of chocolates shaped like hearts, a thick homemade scarf in deep red because "it gets cold in the basement, silly," and even a wooden plaque you painted yourself with the words “Home is Wherever You Are” carved into it.

Thomas keeps every single thing. The card is tucked safely under his mattress. The scarf he wears constantly, even when it’s too warm for it. The plaque he props up beside his bed like a lucky charm.

He doesn’t know how to respond at first. He isn’t good with words; affection is clumsy and rough in his hands. But his instincts tell him what you need: protection, warmth, care.

So, in return, he does everything he can think of. He wakes up early the morning of Valentine’s Day and lumbers into the woods behind the house, gathering wildflowers with thick, calloused hands—delicate work that makes him frown in concentration. The bouquet he brings back to you is messy and slightly crushed, but it’s full of color and heart: whites, purples, yellows. He offers them to you with a shy glance from beneath his hair, waiting to see if it’s good enough.

When you beam at him, eyes shining and arms open wide, he nearly breaks into pieces from how hard his heart pounds.

Later, he tries to make you a Valentine’s Day dinner in his own awkward way. Meat that’s a little too well-done, potatoes a little too salty—but he tries. He sets the table clumsily, fumbling with a chipped candle holder he found in the basement to make it look "fancy" for you. When you sit down and thank him, he looks away bashfully, cheeks darkening behind his mask.

And the best part?

That night, he pulls you gently into his lap while you’re watching some old romantic movie on a battered VHS. His arms wrap tight around you, huge and safe and steady. He buries his masked face against your shoulder, nuzzling you slowly, almost reverently. He doesn’t need words—you can feel every bit of his affection in the way he holds you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Because to Thomas Hewitt, you are. You taught him that even someone like him deserves love. And he’ll spend the rest of his life—clumsy, earnest, and devoted—proving that no one will ever love you quite the way he does.

EXTRA: Luda Mae and Hoyt (Charles) reactions:

Luda Mae Hewitt:

Luda Mae notices immediately when you start decorating the house with hearts, pink ribbons, and little paper crafts.

At first, she raises an eyebrow. She’s practical to her bones, a woman who keeps the household running through hard work, not fluff and fancy things. But seeing you bustling around with such joy and purpose—hanging little heart garlands over the window frames, baking cookies shaped like cupids—softens her.

You remind her of a time long before the world had gone so cruel and small. Maybe when she was a girl, when love still felt pure and sweet.

And deep down, she loves seeing Thomas so... happy. He’s quieter than ever, but it’s a peaceful quiet, not a brooding one. He follows you around the house like a lovesick puppy, carrying heavy boxes for you without even needing to be asked.

So Luda Mae joins in, in her own way. She doesn’t get all froofy about it, but you might find extra sugar on your baking shelf, or see that she’s set out the good plates when you’re preparing a Valentine’s dinner for Tommy.

She’d probably say something like, “You keep doin’ what you’re doin’, sweetheart. Lord knows this house could use a little love.”

She even secretly knits a little red scarf to match the one you made Thomas, leaving it folded neatly on your chair one morning without a word.

Sheriff Hoyt (Charlie Hewitt):

Hoyt thinks it's the funniest damn thing he’s ever seen. When he catches sight of you strutting around the house in your pink, heart-themed clothes and smooching Thomas on the cheek, he cackles. He’ll tease both of you endlessly.

“Lookit this—Tommy’s got himself a lil’ Valentine’s doll! What’s next, you two gonna start playin’ house? Maybe I’ll getcha a weddin’ dress next, sugarplum!”

He never says it nicely either—it’s always with that mocking, sharp-tongued humor. He especially loves pointing out how whipped Thomas looks when you call him "my sweetheart" or "darlin'" in front of everybody.

Hoyt might even start calling you pet names just to get under Tommy's skin, like, “Ain’t you a pretty lil’ lovebug. Bet you got chocolate runnin' through them veins, huh?”

But here's the thing:

Even though he mocks, Hoyt tolerates it. He doesn’t seriously try to stop you. Deep down, Hoyt knows that anything that keeps Thomas grounded—and cooperative—is good for the whole family. If you make Thomas less volatile, more focused, less prone to terrifying fits of rage, then so be it. Let the freak have his Valentine.

Still, don't expect Hoyt to get all sappy about it. He’ll draw the line at any attempts to rope him into decorating or baking. He might even intentionally mess with your decorations just to be a nuisance (ripping a heart off the wall and pinning it to his badge, saying, “Look, I'm the sheriff of Love County now!”.

But he’ll stop short of actually hurting your feelings, especially if Thomas is around—because Hoyt’s crazy, not stupid.

In short:

Luda Mae quietly approves and helps in subtle ways.

Hoyt teases relentlessly, but doesn’t stop you (and maybe even respects you a little for having the guts to act so brightly in such a grim place).

And Tommy? Tommy just adores you for bringing all that color into his grey, broken world.

Brahms Heelshire

Brahms adores the spectacle you make of Valentine's Day—it's practically tailor-made for his needy, possessive nature. The moment February rolls around, you start subtly transforming the manor: lacy heart garlands hanging in doorways, bowls of pink candies scattered on side tables, roses (both real and artificial) tucked into vases and woven into your outfits.

You wear soft reds, pastel pinks, creamy whites—and Brahms follows you from room to room, silent as a shadow, utterly entranced.

He especially loves the way you prepare for it. The thought you pour into the holiday speaks to something deep and childlike in him—something desperate for attention and reassurance. You don't just give him gifts; you wrap them in pretty paper, tie them with bows, sometimes even spray them with a hint of your perfume.

Every gift is personal: a plush bear that looks vaguely like him, handmade chocolates, a sweater you knit yourself "to keep you warm when I'm not around," you said, kissing his forehead.

Brahms hoards your gifts like a dragon with gold. He piles them up around his favorite armchair, touching them with careful, reverent hands. He'll sit there, humming softly, stroking the stuffed bear or turning the love notes over and over, muttering, "Mine... all mine."

The attention spoils him rotten. If you dare leave him alone too long—even to prep another surprise—you'll hear the heavy stomp of his feet or a distant crash as he knocks something over on "accident," forcing you to come running.

He needs you to be there, to fuss over him, to remind him he’s loved with gifts, kisses, and silly songs you hum under your breath.

He also becomes incredibly possessive during Valentine's week, more than usual. If you dress up in your festive outfits and God forbid suggest leaving the manor for a romantic date outside, Brahms gets pouty and childishly furious. "No, love. Stay here... with Brahms. Only Brahms."

The idea of sharing you with the world makes his stomach twist with jealousy.

In return for your affection, Brahms tries to make the day special in his own eerie way. You'll find a "Valentine's dinner" set up in the grand dining hall: candles lit (crooked and ominous), half-wilted roses scattered across the table, and Brahms dressed in his very best—formal clothes from his youth, carefully dusted off, paired with his porcelain mask. He'll pull out your chair for you with a dramatic, sweeping bow, speaking in that lilting, sing-song voice: "My beautiful Valentine... forever and ever."

After dinner, Brahms will give you his "gift"—something uniquely him: a hand-drawn picture of you cradling the porcelain doll version of himself, with little hearts floating above your heads. It's messy, childlike, a little unsettling... but when he presents it to you with such wide, earnest eyes, you know it's one of the purest things he could offer.

Later, curled up in the manor's drafty living room, you’ll find yourself buried in a nest of velvet blankets and pillows, Brahms clinging to you like a massive, overgrown cat, murmuring possessive little declarations into your hair:

"You're mine. Always. Never leave. Love Brahms forever, yes?"

And when you smile, kiss his mask, and whisper:

"Forever, my sweet Valentine."

Brahms practically purrs—sated, spoiled, and more in love with you than ever.

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realcube · 11 months ago

Text

SUMMER SUNSHINE ༊*·˚

summer hcs + drabble w/ hq men

characters ☀ bokuto, nishinoya, ushijima, kageyama & oikawa

tws/tags ☀ ts! all, gn! reader, water gun violence, slightly suggestive, mentions of drowning, swearing & parent!kageyama. overall sfw.

BOKUTO KŌTARŌ

☀ lives for the pool !!

☀ once he gets msby money , he defo buys a house with a big ass pool

☀ as soon as it slightly exceeds 20℃ he will be BEGGING you to swim with him and have a pool day

☀ and remind him that since it's a pool in your own garden, he can swim in it whenever he wants on his own and you don't have to be there with him

☀ but he protests by saying he just wants to spend time with you and it's 'no fun' without you

☀ PLS just go with him

☀ he will so make it worth your while

☀ he spends most of his time swimming and doing tricks in the water and cool dives

☀ and he'd want you to get in with him so y'all can swim about together, little mermaid style

☀ but even if you don't want to do that, and would rather chill on the grass/ on a floatie with a good book or tanning

☀ he will find a way to involve you by getting you to take pictures or videos of his water backflips and handstands and stuff 😭

☀ firstly so he can send the tapes to his friends and secondly so he can show off to you

☀ bc clearly your boyfriend is gifted not only in the volleyball department but he's also a diver????

☀ and if you do swim about with him, he'd be so pleased by that and y'all would have so much fun together

☀ but he has so much stamina that you'd end up tired out way before he is

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you trudge out of the water, making your way back towards the pool lounger. it takes bokuto a couple minutes to notice you are gone because he is busy checking how long he can hold his breath underwater, but eventually he does, then he rushes over to you. "(y/n)! what are you doing?"

"i'm going to rest, bo. i'm so tired." you pant, flopping face-first down onto your towel and nuzzling into the soft fabric. bokuto quickly lays down next to you and turns his head so he is making eye-contact, partially pushing you off because the lounger is big but definitely not spacious enough for two people, let alone one as muscular as bokuto.

"but you didn't even get to see how long i can hold my breath for!" he whines, doing a poor job at sounding frustrated as he gently moves a wet strand of hair out of your face.

you sigh covertly, heavy eyes drooping shut, "why don't you show me now?"

"but we're not under water."

"that doesn't make a difference, sweetie." you reassure him, and he nods thoughtfully, as that did make sense. wow, he has such an intelligent, s/o! he beamed a this own internal monologue, before promptly inhaling sharply so his cheeks were full with air, then squeezing his nostrils shut.

and that is how you got peace and quiet for around two minutes and nine seconds. (he almost passed out)

NISHINOYA YŪ

☀ y'all are always travelling all over the place

☀ swimming with dolphins, hiking through forests, skydiving, lounging at some of the most gorgeous beaches in the world

☀ it's almost like eternal summer for you two

☀ you've basically seen and lived it all so one of the most novelty ways you could spend your summer, is just at home

☀ enjoying the little things; like sitting in front of the fan in searing heat, or barbequing, or water balloon/water gun fights

☀ oh noya loves water gun/balloon fights !! and he gets into it too!!

☀ v competitive, even with you , whom he loves the most in the entire world, but he's still gonna kick your ass lol

☀ it can get a little childish but it's essential to channel you're inner feral kid to stand a chance at winning a water gun fight 😌

☀ he loves chasing you around, getting you soaking wet, and hearing your little laughs and yelps

☀ but he also likes when you're equally as competitive as him

☀ and try to hide and sneak up on him

☀ or if you use an ice bucket 😭 he'd scream and have to get you back for that one

☀ don't let him anywhere near you with that ice bucket though.. especially in a light-colored shirt.. his intentions are not pure

☀ omg he uses psychological warfare too

☀ like if you're beating him and spraying him he's like 'alright alright you got me!!' and drops his water gun/balloon and puts his hands up in surrender

☀ so when you stop, he throws his arm around you and pulls you in for a drenched hug and kisses over your cheeks and face

☀ then , as you both close your eyes and you lean in for a proper kiss, he pulls out a tiny water pistol he had hidden in his shorts and squirts you in the face and laughsss

☀ and it's only a tiny amount of water so it doesn't do any real harm but it's the TREACHERY that got you

☀ smh you had to give that man a taste of dirt after that

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you have him cornered, he frantically pulls the trigger of the water gun but nothing comes out; he's got no ammunition left. a sinister smile inches across your lips as you creep towards him, "final words?" you say dramatically, thinking about where you should spray him first.

his expression contorts into one of dismay and fear when he realises there is no way out, and his breathing falters. eyes drifting closed, he is about to accept his fate...

...until he hears a familiar chime in the distance.

"wait, (y/n)!" he calls, just as you are about to aim your water gun.

"ugh, what?" you groan.

"do you hear that?" he pauses, the silence allowing you to also hear the tune ring from afar.

"the ice-cream van?" you cock an eyebrow, you're face exhibiting all fifty shades of unimpressed, "do you really think i'm going to pass up revenge for ice-cream?"

"i'll buy you an ice-cream sandwich!" he bargains.

you narrow eyes at him, threatening stance unwavering.

"and a slushie!" he adds.

your eyes-widen, and you instantly drop the gun, pivoting on your heels towards the front door, "hurry up, then!" you urge, and noya is hot on your tail, brimming with laughter.

USHIJIMA WAKATOSHI

☀ with some more time-off during the summer, you suggested ushijima find a new hobby to keep him occupied while you were at work

☀ when he asked you for suggestion, you told him just to do whatever he felt like, but you did also mention that there was a flower bed in your garden that looked awfully bleak and unkempt

☀ it was a mere recommendation though, and if he didn't want to do it, that was more than alright

☀ after all, with the amount he makes, y'all have more than enough to hire a gardener to fix it for you. or just a landscaper who will fill it in and build a gazebo on top or something

☀ but ushijima takes your words as command and if you, his favourite person in the world, wants to see flowers in that bed. then he will put flowers in that bed!!! it's just that simple

☀ although he doesn't know where to start, but after some time browsing blogs and online articles, he comes to the conclusion that he best place to begin was to buy some flower seeds and starters

☀ and toshi , being the man he is, has somewhat of a natural green-thumb

☀ and these flowers and thriving in no time

☀ while he is outside, you mostly just stand by the window with a tea/coffee in your hand, watching him work in his cute little straw sun hat you bought him, occasionally calling out to him and saying he's doing such a good job, to which he will look at you and flash a small smile

☀ because you don't pay very much mind to him and his gardening antics bc you assume it's a phase that is going to pass as soon as another game season starts

☀ but no , his gardening hobby is here to stay

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you come home after a long day of work, utterly tired and sore. you hobble into the kitchen with the intention of tossing your bag on a chair before you head upstairs, but are pleasantly surprised when you're met with a romantic sight.

ushijima has set the dining the table with the finest cutlery and cloth, upon which there was three candles that illuminated the area. the aroma of your favourite meal also wafted through the air, so your gaze darted around the room, until you noticed it two plates of it on the kitchen counter, which ushijima carefully transfers to the table.

once he sees you enter, he stands up straight and makes his way over to you, with his hands hidden behind his back, planting a firm kiss on your cheek.

you smile, and lean into him, gazing up with a foolishly wide grin, "what's all this?"

"dinner." he states plainly, then reveals what was behind his back. a large bouquet, filled with all kinda of different and colourful flowers. you gasp at the sight, hesitant to hold such a beautiful masterpiece.

"this is stunning, toshi." your voice shakes with emotion, as you sniff the flowers to soak in their sweet smells, "where did you get this from?"

"i grew them."

your eyes widen, as you look between the bouquet in your arms and your stoic boyfriend, who appears dead-serious. "you did? but there are so many." you can hardly hold them all.

"the garden was fruitful."

the tears that previously welled in your eyes spilled over your cheeks, and you push yourself into him to bury yourself in his strong chest. "thank you so much, wakatoshi. this means so much to me." you sob, your tears dampening the fabric of his shirt.

ushijima is rather taken back by your reaction. he expected you to be apprecitive but he didn't understand how some flowers had moved you to tears, though he rubbed your back comfortingly, none the less.

what he decided in that moment was that he would be gardening for the forseeable future. regardless of how many hours squat in the blistering heat or chilling winters it would take, he would grow a bouquet filled with all your favourite flowers for every season. because your smile alone makes every single arduous hour worth it.

KAGEYAMA TOBIO

☀ during summer he has less hours training with the adlers so he wants to spend every free moment he has with you + the kids

☀ just doing random domestic stuff

☀ he's the type of dad who wants to spoil them rotten and take them to all sorts of fun places

☀ like monday it's the fair, tuesday it's the waterpark, wednesday it's the zoo, thursday it's the softplay.. and so on

☀ if it wasn't for the fact he has a terrible history in booking his own flights, he would have flew the kids to disneyland by now

☀ but he's so high intensity in such a short amount of time bc he feels like he needs to spend as much time with them as he can right now otherwise when he goes back to work they are gonna forget all about him

☀ but you're like they don't have the energy for two days out in a row 😭 so kags needs to find something he can do in the house with them

☀ so he buys one of those massive jungle gyms for the back garden to keep them entertained

☀ but the two things he didn't account for:

☀ 1) he would need to build it himself

☀ which he fails at so bad but he CAN'T ask you for help otherwise you'll think of him as a useless husband (you won't but that's his thought process)

☀ so it takes him like ten days to build it properly

☀ but even when he finishes it looks unstable so you're like 'kags.. test it out'

☀ and he gets mad defensive and is like 'do you not trust my abilities?!?!'

☀ and you're like 'ok if you're not going to test it out, i will'

☀ and when you start walking towardshis construction he is literally sweating bc he knows it's fucked up

☀ so he's like 'fine!! i'll test it' and lo and behold it collaspes over him and y'all need to hire a professional to fix it

☀ 2) the other thing he didn't take into consideration is that the kids want him to play on it with them .. meanwhile he is 6'2" and quite frankly cba

☀ he tries to play with them from outside the jungle gym but your kids are menaces and won't let up until their dad goes down the slide with him

☀ and that's the story of how your husband got caught in a tube slide 😞

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your kids got bored of the jungle gym quickly and were now asking for something else to play with in the backyard. however, after the construction incidient, your confidence in kageyama's handiness has plummeted enough that you do not trust him to build a trampoline, so instead you buy some chalk and tell him to draw some games on the concrete like snakes and latter or hopscotch.

it's simple enough, but it's been taking him quite a while. so, you whip up some fresh lemonade and bring it out to check upon him, "how's the drawing going, tobio?"

he looks up at you, wipes the sweat off his forehead, and happily takes a drink off your tray, then takes a large gulp. "thanks, babe. and it's going fine. 'm almost done."

he says, and stands up to show you the whole game. he chose hopscotch, and draw all the numbers in cute little hearts. admittedly, some were a little wonky but the effort is so sweet. you smile brightly, and place a kiss on his cheek, to which he can't help but smirk. "looks grea—"

just as you are about to utter a compliment, something out of the corner of your eye that causes your heart to plummet. you stare at the error for a moment, and blink a couple times to ensure you aren't imagining it. once you establish for certain what you're seeing is correct, you sigh and say, "kags. draw a three for me."

he raises his eyebrows but doesn't question it. he gets on his knees and draw a three seperately from the hopscotch grid, and to your dismay, it looks like "Ɛ", just as it appears inside the heart.

you look between his sweet, innocent face, and the messed up three he had just written. your children were in their formative years so you didn't want them to learn their numbers from this faulty hopscotch grid, but you also couldn't bring yourself to correct kageyama and watch his ego crash again. so, you bite your tongue and force a smile, "good job." you pat his back and press another kiss on his cheek, "i'm gonna head inside. maybe later we can talk about sending our kids to private school."

internally he is rather jarred by the sudden change in conversation, but he brushes it off and gives you a final squeeze before you walk away.

OIKAWA TŌRU

☀ takes you to the beach ofc !!!!

☀ would love to see you dress up in a swim suit or sun dress in theory bc you look so hot

☀ but in practise, when y'all actually go to the beach and he realises other people can see how hot you look as well, that puts him off and makes him a lil jealous

☀ but!!! thank the lord he is sexy and he knows it bc as soon as a guy merely looks in your direction, he will have his arm wrapped around you in seconds

☀ or start applying sunscreen to your back or chest , and if you're like 'tōru , i've already got my spf on' , he'd just go 'well you can never be too safe! 😇 don't want you to burn, sweetheart!!'

☀ meanwhile he is covertly death-glaring the ppl checking you out

☀ so yeah pls don't get insecure bc no one hits on you while you're at the beach , it's all oikawa's doing

☀ might play beach volleyball or make a tiny sand castle with you if you ask nicely but mostly wants to chill and tan and soak up the sun

☀ and take pics :p

☀ ok you might think he is an ego maniac for this but he so wants you to take candids of him and all sorts of other pics while he is posing

☀ him laying on the towel , looking up at the camera with his sunglasses lowered , winking

☀ ARGH

☀ he's so photogenic it makes you mad actually

☀ but you still take pics of him bc it's kinda fun telling him what poses to do and stuff 😔 you're like 'you need to give me photo creds...'

☀ bc if the artistic vision is left down to him, he's gonna want you to take photos of him jogging across the beach, with his hand running through his hair like in baywatch smh

☀ you upgrade his instagram game sm

☀ omg his follower probably know when he got a s/o / which photos are taken by you vs him bc his feed goes from looking very bland and thrist-trappy to being a literal pinterest wet dream

☀ like even if y'all are in a down-low type of relationship, it's just SO obvious when he gets a partner

☀ also his fans/followers LOVE you even if they don't know who you even are bc he hasn't hard-lauched yet / you want to stay private and they have to give you some silly fandom mystery person name like "gfkawa"/"bfkawa" or "towsnbp" (the one who shall not be photographed)

☀ they are STILL obsessed

☀ and dw he takes pics for you too

☀ and he takes that shit seriously too , like he will lay on the ground, balance on one hand or literally do an aerial if that is what it takes to get your best angles

☀ you're naturally gorge though so he doesn't need to try that hard, but he's willing to !!

☀ he's pretty good at taking pics too and you always come out looking stunning but that always drives him CRAZY

☀ oh and he's always taking candids of you (especially at the beach) without having to be asked and he obliges when you ask him to show you but if you want him to send you the photos so you can post them, he's gonna be like , 'erm no these are mine thank you 😗'

☀ he's not sharing!!!

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you're laying down on your towel, enjoying the sun and although your eyes are closed, you notice when the warmth is suddenly blocked by a tall body in the way. you open your eyes to see oikawa standing over you, smiling, "you look beautiful, (y/n). lemme take a picture."

you nod, blushing, and hand him your phone. he snaps a couple shots of you, for which you pose. he grins once he done, scrolling through them.

you frown, sitting up and making a grabbing motion at him, "let me see!"

he kneels down besides you and tilts the phone over so you can scroll through the pictures he took, and as usual, they are quite nice, in your opinion. though oikawa gazes at them with eyes sickeningly sweet and sappy. you watch as his thumb moves to send the photos to himself, and you pressed your cheek against his arm and purr, "awh, thank you, sweetie. you did su— oi, what're you doing?!"

you bark, watching him delete the photos off your phone after they're finished sending, and you snatch the device out of his hand too late as they are already gone. you glare and him and he simply shrugs, with an innocent aura, "you looked too good. i didn't want you posting those anywhere."

he explains, and you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. you should've expected his behaviour from him. "now the only photos i've ever looked nice in are gone. thanks, loserkawa."

"they're not gone. i still have them." he commented, squishing your cheeks, amused and enamoured by your little sulk, "and we both know those aren' the only photos you've ever looked good in. you're beautiful in every single one."

you pout, shaking your head out of his grip and flopping back onto the towel. he laughs and taps your nose, planting a kiss on your cheek too, "wow, and you call me a drama queen."

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yesimwriting · 4 months ago

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https://vm.tiktok.com/ZNd1uDMP8/

Louis and bestie reader fighting the married allegations after the books is published (lestat and reader dedicated chapters were neck to neck)

MARRIAGE ALLEGATIONS 😭 the video has me crying that's exactly how they talk to each other too

Ik Daniel's messy enough to purposefully give bestie reader one or two more chapters than Lestat just to start something (also there really was that much bestie reader content to put in there).

This concept is so funny to me, here's a short list of things bestie reader centric things in Daniel's book that started a lavender marriage conspiracy theory:

During the interview, Daniel once jokingly referred to bestie reader as Louis's 'girl crush' and instead of laughing it off or defending his relationship with Armand, Louis said something about bestie reader being such an amazing person she warrants feeling deeper feelings than a simple 'crush'.

Sometimes the bestie reader tangents Louis goes on are so long that Daniel just pretends to take notes (because his non-fiction book on vampires doesn't need a chapter detailing Louis's fascinating introduction to the world of skincare).

There's at least two anecdotes in the book about reader and Louis silently agreeing to act like they're together while out when reader wants to avoid male attention.

Even though Louis isn't planning on dying, he's implied that bestie reader is in his will.

Louis and bestie reader once got into a playful argument about whether or not they would have been in a lavender marriage if bestie reader was alive in the early 1900's. When reader rejects his joking proposal (like the girl in the video), Louis (who has had multiple vampires literally beg for this level of commitment from him) was a little too offended by the response. Daniel summarizes this interaction and puts it in the book (for context, not drama ofc).

Bestie reader has a very intricately designed ring that Louis gave her as a gift. She may or may not wear it on her ring finger every day.

Bonus/only slightly related:

After reading the book, Lestat says that he left Louis to Armand not to some random girl. Lestat's ranting is so intense it takes Louis a second to realize he's talking about bestie reader. Things do not get better when Louis tells Lestat that if he so much as looks at bestie reader the wrong way Louis isn't even going to get mad, he's just going to leave.

I'm sure you can imagine how interesting Lestat and bestie reader's relationship is right after their first meeting. ---- a/n this ask found me at such an ideal time because I was thinking of potentially writing an iwtv fic primarily set in the early 1900's timeline where reader and Louis are friends and they get married in an attempt at appeasing both of their families. Does it work? Maybe for about two weeks, but it's okay because then they get to be family and reader can be the one adult that actually treats Claudia well. Also I feel like peak toxic Lestat would use her as a bargaining chip every five minutes 😭. It's not very planned out yet, but if anyone's interested, pls lmk <33

#bestie reader verse #louis de pointe du lac x reader #iwtv x reader #iwtv x fem!reader #interview with the vampire x reader #itwv x reader

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snowyduck · 4 months ago

Text

What if there is another within Doey? Another experiment alongside Matthew, Kevin, and Jack?

Playtime Co. was once a beloved toy company, famous for its innovative toys and cutting-edge technology. Behind the cheerful exterior, however, Playtime Co. was also responsible for secretive and disturbing experiments on children. Among these experiments, one was known as Project: Doey. The company, in its ambition to create the perfect toy, decided to blend multiple children's personalities, skills, and traits into a single creation. The result: Doey, a being made from the minds and bodies of three different children: Matthew Hallard, Kevin Barnes, and Jack Ayers.

The scientist overseeing these experiments, a compassionate figure, was assigned to care for the children as they underwent their transformations. This scientist formed a bond with the children, especially with Doey, and became something of a surrogate parent to them. They provided comfort, guidance, and stability during the traumatic process, though the scientist was forced to remain silent about the true nature of their work.

But this bond would not last.

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As the experiment progressed, the scientist became deeply conflicted about the nature of the project. They knew that what they were doing to these children was wrong, but they had no choice. Playtime Co.'s higher-ups ensured that no one could speak out or refuse their orders.

Doey, in particular, was a unique and complex creation. He exhibited moments of great kindness and innocence, especially in his Matthew form. However, Kevin's influence was also present, and when provoked, Doey could descend into a terrifying rage. Jack's playful and innocent side would sometimes appear, making Doey long for the simple life he once had before the experiment. But deep down, Doey struggled with his identity and the overwhelming forces at play within him.

The scientist, seeing Doey as a child they were helping to shape, tried to offer love and comfort where they could. They would read to him, talk to him about life beyond the walls of Playtime Co., and encourage him to hold on to his humanity. But as the experiment neared its completion, the scientist grew increasingly disturbed by the results and the darker side of Playtime Co.'s intentions.

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As the years went by, Playtime Co.'s experiments grew more reckless. The company's hunger for power and control over their creations led them to pursue Project: 1006, an even darker and more dangerous endeavor. The scientist, horrified by the direction things were headed, tried to find a way out. But Playtime Co. had already decided to test their creations in ways that no one could have foreseen.

During the Hour of Joy, a catastrophic event in which the company's creations were unleashed on the world, the scientist was forcibly added into Doey's psyche—along with Matthew, Kevin, and Jack. This experiment, meant to heighten Doey's powers, caused a break in his consciousness, triggering violent episodes where the personalities of the three children inside him took over. The scientist's peaceful, loving influence was buried beneath the rage and confusion of the child-turned-monster that Doey was becoming.

The Rampage:

During the Hour of Joy, Doey, now a monster of great power, broke free from his restraints. The scientist, still inside Doey's mind, tried to keep him calm, tried to fight back against the rage and fury that were overtaking him. But it was no use. Kevin's violent tendencies were far too strong, and Doey spiraled into a rampage.

The scientist attempted to reason with him, to reach the child within the chaos. But the other personalities—Matthew, Kevin, and Jack—struggled to hold onto their humanity as the monster Doey was becoming more and more unrecognizable.

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The Player, an unsuspecting visitor (from a letter) to the now-abandoned Playtime Co. factory, comes across Doey in the midst of his rage. Doey, struggling with the voices of the children inside him, finds himself at odds with the Player. At times, Matthew's influence tries to surface, leading Doey to feel guilt and remorse for his actions. But the combined force of Kevin and Jack is too much, and Doey lashes out at the Player, blaming them for the destruction of his family.

As the Player navigates the haunted, eerie factory, Doey appears sporadically, watching them with a mix of curiosity and rage. He is torn between his desire to protect the Player—like Matthew would have—and his uncontrollable urge to destroy everything around him, a legacy of Kevin's destructive nature.

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The Player eventually comes across a room coated with clay and dough, the remnants of Doey's monstrous transformation. In the center of the room lies the lifeless body of the scientist, still at peace in an eternal sleep, surrounded by clay flowers and mementos from their time with Doey. The Player begins to piece together the history of Project: Doey and the bond between the scientist and the creature they helped create.

As the Player digs deeper, they begin to understand that Doey's anger is not entirely his own. It is a result of the experiments that tore his soul apart, and the love he had for the scientist is still buried within him, despite the horrors of his transformation.

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#poppy playtime x reader #doey x reader #doey the doughman

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starryylies · 2 months ago

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This is my very first request on a blog, so here it goes! I’d love to hear your thoughts and opinions about Simon with a reader who has lots of siblings (both older and younger) or perhaps is an elementary school teacher. I teach elementary kids myself, and it would mean the world to me if you could explore this idea. If it’s not something you can do, that’s totally okay too! Wishing you an amazing day, lovie! <33

The coolest ‘solder’ Simon riley

Si with an s/o who’s an elementary school teacher

AAAAA I’m so honoured for that!! 😭😭 no joke like seriously thank uuuu. Thank u sm for the req and I hope u like it 🩷🩷

And I made the header and drawing myself, I wrote and drew this during a long car drive so pls don’t judge 😭😭

He found out about your job the day he came over to your house, he was taken aback by the amount of ‘best teacher’ and ‘favourite maam’ cards you had.

While you made him a cuppa he lurked in your living room looking at all the messy drawings you had framed on your walls.

It made him feel a stinging ache in his heart because it reminded him of the drawings his nephew Joseph gave him.

As you told him about how you thought of each student as your own, he was enamoured

He adored the fact that you took your student’s well-being and artwork so seriously.

He’s the type of boyfriend/husband who listens to your student’s daily shenanigans in the classroom intently.

He also remembers all your students’ name’s, their likes and dislikes, which ones are mischievous and which ones are quiet

When you asked him to come at your school and give a small presentation to your students for career day so they can see a soldier- he was very reluctant but with loads of pleading and kisses, he agreed.

The second he entered the classroom, the noise and chatter all fell silent.

The kids were in awe of the big 6’2 man wearing a black vest that said ‘SAS’ and a skull baklava.

As Simon told your students about his job and how he gets to fight ‘bad guys’, a few kids started clapping at every opportunity they got.

After the presentation, all the kids raised their hands, asking all sorts of questions ranging from- have you ever killed anyone? Do you use guns?? Can you do a backflip…?

Simon answered all the questions trying his best to make it PG and well, not violent.

After the session ended a few kids came up to him and gave him a ‘coolest solder’ card and asked him to come back again. (I did the misspelling purposely cuz as a kid I lost marks for spelling soldier incorrectly)

It’s safe to say he will come back again and he will bring riley too :))

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dark-l-angel · 1 year ago

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can i request for a olderbat!damian wayne x reader whose his controversial young wife :3

feel free to ignore if not comfy for ya😚

Sorry for the title 😕 pls help me in the comments 🙏🏻 😭

I couldn't find a title

Olderbat!Damian wayne x controversial young wife!reader

The Batcave was unusually quiet that evening, save for the soft hum of monitors and the occasional shuffle of papers. Damian Wayne, now in his late thirties and fully embodying the mantle of Batman, stood at the central console, his brow furrowed in concentration as he reviewed the night's surveillance footage.

The Batcomputer blinked with updates from across Gotham, detailing the latest criminal activities and potential threats. It was a routine night in the eternal battle against crime, yet Damian's thoughts drifted, uncharacteristically distracted.

A soft rustle behind him broke the silence, and Damian turned to find (Y/N) leaning against the Batmobile, a playful smile gracing her features. She was a stark contrast to Gotham's darkness—youthful and vibrant, her presence a beacon of light in the cavernous depths of the Batcave.

"You're up late," she remarked, her voice echoing softly in the cavern. "Anything I can do to help?"

Damian's gaze softened as he took in the sight of his controversial wife. (Y/N) had been a whirlwind in his life—a breath of fresh air amidst the shadows that had long defined him. Her free-spirited nature and unwavering optimism had challenged him in ways he never expected, yet he found himself drawn to her energy like a moth to a flame.

"I could use your perspective on this," Damian admitted, gesturing towards the array of screens displaying Gotham's ongoing turmoil. "There's been an increase in gang activity near the docks. It's unusual for this time of year."

(Y/N) stepped closer, her eyes scanning the data with a keen interest. "Maybe they're planning something big," she mused, her mind already racing with possibilities. "What if they're using the docks to smuggle in weapons or drugs?"

Damian nodded, impressed by her quick grasp of the situation. Together, they delved into analyzing the patterns and potential motives behind the criminal surge, their minds synchronizing in a way that spoke volumes about their partnership—both in crime-fighting and in life.

As they worked, Damian couldn't help but reflect on the journey that had led them to this moment. Their relationship had sparked controversy and raised eyebrows among Gotham's elite, who couldn't fathom why someone like Damian Wayne would choose a partner so different from the expected mold.

But to Damian, (Y/N) was everything he never knew he needed. Her optimism tempered his cynicism, her boldness challenged his cautious nature, and her unwavering support anchored him in the storm of Gotham's relentless challenges.

They had met unexpectedly at a charity gala, where (Y/N)'s sharp wit and unyielding compassion had captivated Damian's attention. Despite their age gap and the world's scrutiny, they found solace in each other's company—a refuge from the expectations and demands of their respective roles.

And now, as they stood side by side in the heart of the Batcave, Damian felt a surge of gratitude for the woman who had reshaped his world. (Y/N) had not only accepted the darkness that defined his nights but had embraced it with a courage and determination that mirrored his own.

"You know," (Y/N) spoke up after a moment of shared silence, her voice gentle yet filled with conviction, "they'll never understand us, Damian. But that's okay. We didn't choose the easy path, but we chose each other."

Damian turned to her, his heart swelling with a love that defied expectations and surpassed words. Without hesitation, he reached out, pulling (Y/N) into a tender embrace—the kind that spoke of a lifetime of battles fought and victories won together.

In the quiet of the Batcave, surrounded by the echoes of Gotham's chaos, Damian Wayne and (Y/N) found peace in each other's arms—a love that defied the darkness and illuminated their path forward, together.

And as they stood, united against the night's endless shadows, Damian knew with unwavering certainty that with (Y/N) by his side, he was stronger than ever—a Dark Knight who had found his light in the heart of Gotham's perpetual storm.

☆ I hope you like it ☆

#damian wayne x fem!reader #damian wayne x female reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne #damian al ghul #robin #dc robin #robin x reader #dc characters #dc batman #dc comics #dc universe #dc #dc damian wayne #batman #batman comics

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hatsukeii · 8 months ago

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hey girllllll i’m here at ur cafe cause exams have been kicking my ass… i need a comfort drink RN !! can i get an oolong tea with pumps 19 and 20 from the sugar free menu :) ive been EYEING that customer in the corner right there.. yeah the blonde haired red eyed one— he’s called bakugou you say? fuckkk, set me up pls, sister? 😁😁

ps. good luck for ur exams hattsun! we can do this :p

hello hello:)) thank you for the wishes and good luck on your exams too!! i've got your order up! (why! would you put yourself through extra bitter tea!)

to kill a god / prohero!katsuki bakugou x reader

ingredient(s): angst<3 (you asked for it baby), pro hero katsuki x terminal patient reader, soulmates to dead idk, major death! major character death! anguish! pain! just straight up agony tbh

disclaimer(s): terminal illnes + major character death warning!! also like i think i used a hc that pro heros don't reveal their names to the public idk why, scarce use of y/n like once or twice, ending is! a little rushed but i hope it hits anyways, they are the embodiment of "are they lovers?" "no, worse" so...

wc: ~3.0k

drink profile: absolute defiance, hospital walls, luck and chance

Katsuki Bakugou, at six years old, declares that he wants to live forever. He wants to blow villains up for the rest of time, expend the nitroglycerin in his sweat glands until the world ends one day and everything is reduced to atoms. He lives out his childhood with his chest puffed out, like he cannot- no, will not die.

Even as his limbs weigh heavy on his teenage body, and he can feel himself hit concrete ground as whips of black shoot through his torso, he tells himself he is not dying. He's not fucking dying, because he has lived and fought like a god.

By the time he graduates from UA, Katsuki is certain that he has to, one day, meet his end. He pretends like he can live forever anyways.

When Katsuki meets you for the first time, it is in a hospital courtyard on a sweltering July afternoon. Hours of greeting and running around with children finds him sitting on a bench, away from the commotion that is contained within the hospital white walls of the pediatric sectors. His skin boils beneath his suit, and he tries to wipe his sweat-slicked forehead with a gloved hand. From beside him, a paper towel appears beneath his nose, slipped between an index and middle finger. Katsuki stares at your palm, eyes travelling to the IV drip inserted into your wrist. When he looks up, he isn't sure how you've gone unnoticed for so long, with your IV pole by your side, donned in a sterile blue hospital gown. You look not a day over twenty.

"Dynamight." Your voice comes out as more of a croak than a youthful chirp.

The towel is swiped into Katsuki's hands swiftly, before he pats at his forehead. "Yes?"

"Are you afraid of dying?"

He scoffs, slipping the dampened towel into his pocket. How absurd. Dynamight? Afraid of dying? Do you think he fights because he's scared of dying? Turning to you, Katsuki comes to realise that you might be dead serious, dull eyes boring into his skull. He could see nothing behind them. The IV drips, and drips, and drips. You stare. He isn't sure what to tell you.

"Hell no. But I don't wanna die." He leans into the hardwood bench, spreads his legs a little further apart. He doesn't know that he's lying, even when his stomach stirs and the wooden bench begins to cool, and coarsen into concrete ground and blood. He should look away before it all feels too real again, but you're looking at him like a child, twenty years too old, searching for answers in the face of what power means in this world. Katsuki hates it.

"Of course not. You're a hero after all. All the power in the world."

You stand, and leave him sitting there alone. That night, pro hero Dynamight waits for backup at a villain sighting for the first time.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Katsuki Bakugou promises to give you a taste of power when he meets you a second time at the same hospital, the next week.

He's not sure how his patrol shift has brought him here again, but he never got to stand up for himself. It's not his fault he's a hero, not his fault that he enjoys power in the spark of his palms, or that he isn't afraid of dying because he's clawed his way out of it so many times. But he knows what it's like, he says, standing by your bed. Knows what it's like to never die, even when everything is pushing him to. That's power, he tells you, absolute defiance. And you're sitting in a hospital bed surrounded by two palliative care workers who have to shoot you up with anaesthetics every four hours. So he leans down close, so close that he can sense the wariness coming from your stony eyes, see the hairs on your skin stand helplessly, and he frowns.

"D'you think you're weak?" His question is uttered to a husk of a human, who needs the wall to keep them upright. You wince painfully in response, unsure of what he wants to hear from your chapped lips. One of the workers doses you with anaesthesia, and you pinch your eyes shut. It still hurts, even after all this time.

"I'm just waiting to die, call that what you want. Weak, sure." You swallow at the thought, because you're fucking terrified. Katsuki takes it that you are scared of him.

"You're just fuckin'... waiting to die?" Vermillion eyes squint in disbelief, and you swallow again, this time at his question instead. He hates spineless quitters. He hates them more than he can imagine. Some part buried deep inside him wants to refuse death on your behalf, because he detests nothing more than the notion of going out helplessly, bound at the mercy of a hospital bed and anaesthesia. There has to be someone out ther with a quirk that can save you, and Katsuki isn't sure why but he's hellbent on finding them. Call it civil service. A hero's duty to save.

"If you're going to come here, Dynamight, at least make this easier for me, and don't act like I asked for it."

Right, Dynamight. That's what people call him, and you are no different, so he's not sure why he expected otherwise. When one of the two palliative workers approaches you with a syringe, Katsuki doesn't think he can bear the sight of another dose of chemicals worming its way into your veins. You're just another chickenshit defeatist, poisoning themselves in a hospital room.

He turns on his heels, and leaves while you hiss in pain.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

No one at the hospital is quite sure of what is going on between pro hero Dynamight, and a terminal patient. They watch him return, week after week, sometimes consecutive days in a row. When he steps through the automatic doors, he shoots every single worker that passes by him a curt nod, then hikes up the stairs to room 203. The only people in the room would be two palliative care workers and yourself, and the rest of the hospital staff is sure he's brokered a deal with the two workers to never let a single word out of 203.

Nobody else ever enters 203 while Dynamight is here.

But everybody talks.

They make rumours, pick up on singular words through the sliding door, then say he's grown weak. Soft. Pro hero Dynamight, no longer the first at the scene of a crime. Pro hero Dynamight, falling back from combat on live television. Pro hero Dynamight, visiting a terminal patient, day after day. He must have too much free time on his hands. Maybe he's had enough of hero work. Maybe he's gone mad.

What they conveniently fail to understand, outside the barrier of 203's white door, is that Katsuki Bakugou doesn't know what is going on between himself, and you either. He comes back every day not because he particularly wants to, but because he can't help himself not to. He finds you again, and again, and again, just to listen to you talk about hospital food, or how you've just watched him back down on live television, scrutinised by millions of watchful eyes.

Then, Katsuki asks you how long you have left, to which your answer is always decreasing. A year the first few times, then halved, and by this visit, his seventeenth, you tell him, "three months."

"That's a quarter of what you had five weeks ago."

"Tough luck." You stare at the IV drip in your wrist, watch the liquid seep into your veins through the thin tube.

He wants to promise that he can help you, even though it holds no power. He is not a doctor. Everyone else in this hospital is. But Katsuki Bakugou has almost died about a hundred times, and still he lives, so he thinks he must know something that they don't. Absolute defiance.

"Nothing is luck." He sits on the bedside stool, grinding his foot into the squeaky hospital floor. "It's all a wretched fight."

"Yeah, for you it can be." You laugh dryly, wiggling your wrist and watching as the IV tube sticks up in odd angles. "But luck's all everyone else has got."

A pigeon smashes into the glass window, and drops to the balcony floor outside in a flurry of feathers. One of the palliative care workers leaves to pick the mound of grey from the floor. Katsuki looks away when the other one shoots you up with another dose of anaesthesia. Something hums in the air, inescapable, like the time he woke up in a hospital bound in bandages, circulating oxygen from a new, pumping heart. His hands spark, and for once, he wonders if he just got lucky.

"Let me touch your sparks."

You finally speak again, a hand stretching out weakly to point at the crackles and pops of Katsuki's palm. Gingerly, he extends his gloved palm towards you, careful not to touch the equipment that surrounds your bed. When you take his hand in yours, something twists in his chest, and sparks thud at his suited torso instead. They're weak enough to do little damage, yet as he tries to ignite sparks again, they misfire a second time, scorching the dead pigeon pinched between the palliative care worker's fingers. Katsuki Bakugou has never been afraid before, but he jerks his hand away from you, yanking onto the IV drip and rattling the pole that wobbles at the force. He may as well be quirkless in your wake. Powerless.

"What the fuck was that?"

You shrug. You've always wanted to be a hero, watching their escapades from your bedridden world. You just got unlucky.

"Luck. That's luck. I wanted to become a hero with it."

You would have been a great hero, Katsuki thinks. You should have been a great hero.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Katsuki Bakugou doesn't realise that he has never called you by name until his twenty-third visit. He sits by your bed, gives you his hand, lets you do as you please with soft sparks that tickle and prick at your skin, as he has for the past four visits. He's figured that you would smile when they redirect to the spot just between the two of you, like fireworks that stutter and pop into flowers. Some part of him hates to admit it, but he's enjoying this much more than blowing villains up.

"You're getting better. That's the third in a row in the right place."

"All luck."

He swallows thickly, because he hasn't asked the question yet. How could he, when he's giving you exactly what he promised- power? He floats images in his head: IV drips, surgery, growing tumour, operation room, flatlines. They cover your body in a shroud of inevitable dread, and Katsuki would blow them apart if he could. But he's given you his quirk, and you're making fireworks with it.

"Are you scared? Of dying?" The fourth spark hits a mug on a desk across the room. It jolts off, and shatters on the ground. You shrink into the bed, pulling his hand into your chest, and his gut drops. There's a sort of bitter taste that worms into his mouth, but he lets his hand lie flat against your sternum when you push it closer to yourself, and it dissipates. Your chest rises, heavy and slow, like every breath is laboured. When you look up at Katsuki, he isn't angry. His cheeks are rounded, soft eyes watching your fingers around his hand, lips slightly pushed apart by his sudden question. It occurs to you that he might be asking more than just yourself that.

"What does it matter to me?"

"Should I be?"

He stares back at you, and you freeze. Pro hero Dynamight faces death head on every day like it's nothing, but some sick part of you wants him to be afraid too. It will take three weeks to catch you, maybe a few more decades until it chases his tail, but death finds everyone eventually, and that should be terrifying.

"You can choose. Do you want to be scared?"

He should defy this, just like he has so many times before. Dynamight has a fake heart, fake name, fake recklessness, it's all fucking bravado. Katsuki's been tasting blood in his mouth every night since his old heart stopped pumping at sixteen years old, his bed is bloodstained concrete ground when he wakes up in a cold sweat. He can choose, but can you do the same? And even if he did not have to choose, if he could be immortal, would he still pick a side? What good is being a god, if he can only live to watch death take you from above?

Your hair covers your face, your fingers ghost across his gloved ones, and he swallows the question of how long you really have left.

"What's your name?"

"Y/n."

He holds his breath, letting it out only to utter, "Katsuki." You hold his hand a little tighter in yours.

"I wouldn't be scared if I knew I could move on from this."

"Don't use me to make your choice. You have to move on from this. And you have to be okay with that."

At thirteen years old, Katsuki Bakugou is publicly asphyxiated for approximately one minute and twenty seconds, until Izuku Midoriya arrives on the scene, trying to wrench him out. At sixteen years old, he is pronounced dead in battle, until Edgeshot turns himself into his new heart. It has never been about defiance, and always about people being in the right place, at the right time. His life has been dangling from the promise of luck since the day he was born with a quirk that lets him pretend to be a god. So no, maybe he shouldn’t let somebody else make this choice for him.

"But I'm still scared, y/n. I'm still so fucking scared."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Pro hero Dynamight breaks down on live television one week later, following a close call with a criminal syndicate. Millions of eyes glue to their home televisions, watching him scream profanities into a Juko News microphone outside a hospital. Parents cover their children's ears, angry commentators press backspace on their "dy-no might" comments, 6pm rush hour stops to stare at angry Shibuya billboards, but nobody changes the broadcast.

"You motherfuckers have no idea how fucking lucky you are to be alive! When have you ever, ever! Had to count your fucking days?" Spit shoots from Dynamight's mouth, and they think he's deranged, unhinged. He stands in front of the hospital- your hospital, and forces the retreating cameraman to redirect the lenses at his angry spew.

"Gone soft, weak, no might, quit the shit!" He points at the hospital behind him, right at the window of room 203. If you aren't hearing him from your bed, Katsuki is ready to grab the microphone, and yell it from the balcony for everyone to hear.

"You will never understand what it's like waking up to fucking hospital white day by day. I have seen it, people in there have seen it." He jabs a finger at the camera accusingly. "If you want heroes to die fighting so badly, I suggest that you fuckers try it for yourself."

Turning to 203, Katsuki stops for a moment. Reporters snap photos behind each other, yet nobody says a word. Have you made him soft? Made him weak? Have you killed Dynamight? When he remembers the fireworks between your noses, and the choice he's made for himself, he thinks the opposite.

"I will not apologise for wanting to live. I will not apologise for trying to live. And I will not fucking apologise for being scared of dying. Not when I get to wake up, and choose to be scared."

Katsuki throws the microphone to the ground, and stomps on it, storming into the hospital. Comments flood the broadcast. Coward. Fake. Spineless. Ungrateful. His PR team scrambles to get the footage deleted.

He hikes into 203. To hell with the news outlets, and the reporters, and the spineless keyboard warriors, because he's watching you take your dying breath if that's what it takes for him to move on from you. He slides open the door, and you're bedridden, breathing through an oxygen mask. You smile at him like you've saved him from something you don't know. He smiles back, because you have.

"I'll only move on when you do."

"Two weeks, Katsuki."

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

When pro hero Dynamight arrives at the hospital again, nine hours have gone by since his public meltdown. He returns to rubble, and dust, and a dozen rescue heros scrambling on their feet at 3am. They say that there's been a gas explosion, that the past few maintainence checks have failed to detect litres of propane seeping into every crevice of the institution, all while flipping through piles of concrete for signs of life. They tell him that more heroes will be here soon, and that he should focus on breaking open larger pieces of debris. As he sends explosion after explosion into deconstructed hospital walls, Katsuki wishes he could pretend to care about the mangled corpses crushed beneath what once was a hospital. He doesn't.

People all look the same when their heads are crushed between asphalt and concrete. Hundreds of IV drips are littered around the wreckage. It has been one hour, and even with backup, they have only found seven survivors. Dynamight cannot save people here, all he can do is blow rubble to bits, hoping to find beneath it one more person whose lungs haven't been crushed already. He is no hero. He couldn't even save one person.

Three hours of searching concludes with twenty-two survivors, all hauled into helicopters and stretchers, and flown away to someplace Katsuki doesn't care to know. Rescue heroes never confirm the death count, and can only give an estiamte of approximately three hundred fatalities, and twenty-two casualties. They never find your body.

Katsuki stands on broken rubble, and he thinks he has been killed again, two weeks too soon, all in the name of misfortune. Tough luck. He swallows his pride, because in the face of death, absolute defiance has never been his vice. As he gapes at this massacre of pure chance, his gloved hands can barely form sparks. How did you ever turn them into fireworks?

barista's note:

hi do you guys still love me<3 double pump of sugar free you were ASKING FOR ITTTTTTTT i do apologise i rushed the ending because i have more requests and i want to get through them but i am physically! incapable of like multitasking on writing like i have to finish one to start one or nothing comes out i fear... i hope the ending hit the vibes right anyways though because idk what i was thinking while writing this i think i was kinda just vomiting onto the page whatever felt right LMFAOOAO

tags: @catsoupki @laughingfcx @wishi-selfships @fiannee @chuuya-brainrot @zzwon @akaakeis @hiraethwa @bakery-anon @wyrcan @bailey-reeds @hiraethwrote @kuroppiii @kongkhoi @staraxiaa

#katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #mha bakugou #bakugou angst #bakugo angst #bnha x reader #mha x reader #bnha angst #mha angst #mha scenarios #bnha scenarios #bnha imagine #mha imagine

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calqlate · 10 months ago

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THE LOVE & DEEPSPACE MLS AND THEIR KDRAMA ML COUNTERPARTS

INCLUDES: rafayel + sylus + xavier + zayne

WARNING(S): might be ooc bc i don't really keep up with the lore so there might be some inconsistencies (oops) (pls be gentle) (it's 10pm here and my brain is running on adrenaline) + contains some canon lore drops ig

MASTERLIST + caleb ver.

NOTE(S): i will never stop inserting my fandoms into kdramas bc i love seeing worlds collide. anw pls partake in this brainrot with me 🤩

— RAFAYEL

ryu sunjae from lovely runner - they are both absolute losers for their respective lovers. i can picture rafayel in that one scene where sunjae was blowing kisses towards sol's house. no matter how hard his beloved tries to cut him out from their life to save him, he will always find his way back into their life.

jeong guwon from my demon - similar to sunjae, guwon is also another loser for his wife. (tbh i can imagine rafayel as a down bad simp for his lover; cue thomas sighing and shaking his head.) i can picture rafayel in the scene whereby guwon and dohee were doing that tango while fighting off their enemies too?!?!

lee yeon from tale of the nine-tailed - continuing the loser boy train, we have yeon as the final dude to add in this group. (specifically yeon from s2, bc the way he wanted to go back to his timeline so badly to see jiah matches rafayel's "the only person i'll ever love is my lover" energy.) their backstories also match in the sense that yeon never stopped searching for jiah and rafayel never stopped waiting for his bride.

— SYLUS

myulmang from doom at your service - not me choosing myulmang bc they both made contracts to their beloveds [clown emoji]. but nonetheless they're similar in the sense that they won't think twice about eliminating someone who hurts their lover.

shin wooyeo from my roommate is a gumiho - again, another contract situation. wooyeo is a "classier" version of sylus imo, and one who uses less pet names. if sylus were the ml in this kdrama, he would defo keep an even more watchful eye on his beloved so that she doesn't go about losing his fox bead. (aur naur iw to write a gumiho au for sylus now...)

lee youngjoon from what's wrong with secretary kim? - similar to youngjoon, sylus will never let his lover leave. they want to leave his mansion? he will try 101 (legal) ways to make them stay. they will find snacks they like in their room more often. they will find new (and expensive) clothes in their wardrobe. heck, even an all-expenses-paid vacation! he wants to keep them close to him; he's afraid of them upping him to leave.

— XAVIER

goo yeonjun from a time called you - like yeonjun, xavier has literally went back in time to save his beloved. he wants to see then safe and sound, and as long as they're happy, he's happy. as long as they're alive and breathing, he's fine with not being by their side. just watching them live their life is enough for him.

haru from extraordinary you - totally not projecting my all-time fav kdrama on him (or am i?) but xavier and haru have similar mannerisms and personality traits. yk how in the first few episodes danoh was dragging haru around and this guy just remained silent and followed along until one day he just started speaking? yeah that's the same with this guy. the person he likes could yap all day and he would willingly sit and listen.

moon seoha from see you in my 19th life - similar to seoha, xavier loves once in his life and he will only ever love his little star. he would never get over their death and if he's the one responsible for their death, he would be all the more upset with himself. he would throw himself into work all day and refuse to love again, thinking he shouldn't be able to fall in love ever again since he took his beloved's one chance of staying alive and happy away.

— ZAYNE

moon suho from black knight - they're both so overprotective of the one they love. the way suho essentially told sharon that haera is the only woman he would ever love is something i can picture zayne doing. if someone is out there trying to harm his beloved, you'd best believe zayne would do his best to prevent that from happening, even if it means giving up his own life.

lee suhyeok from bora! deborah - when zayne loves, he loves hard. like suhyeok, he's clumsy at expressing his affections, choosing to keep everything to himself and wait until he's 100% certain it's the right time to say whatever he wants to say. and sometimes, that can lead to disastrous endings (see also: suhyeok getting dumped on the same day he went to buy an engagement ring for his girlfriend). both men are careful to a fault, all the more so with their beloved because they're scared of losing someone precious to them again.

yoo jihyuk from marry my husband - zayne, like jihyuk, would willingly stand aside and watch the one he loves fall in love with someone else. he would be supportive and wouldn't try to fight for their affection. his motto is "if they're happy, i'm happy" and he can live being an unmarried old man as long as he sees them happy.

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tazofthehollow · 6 months ago

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Do i wanna know?

summary: fleeing to college after catching your highschool sweetheart cheating, you find yourself right back in your home town 4 years later. your degree almost complete & your sanity slowly slipping, you find solace in the one place you know you shouldn’t. your dads best friend. Dean Winchester.

word count: idk something embarrassingly long probably🫣

warnings : mature 18+, dbf, AU, yearning AF, spn content, grumpy/sunshine ish?? idk (im trying to include most of the main characters from spn, again AU)

a/n: this is my 2nd ever fic so pls be nice 😔 (& lmk your thoughts, any ideas you may want added) i have every intention of making this a series, if you wanna be added to my tag list just comment 🫶🏼 with alllll this being said i hope you enjoy 🥲

The airport was alive with chaos—families reuniting, announcements echoing overhead, and the constant shuffle of luggage wheels against tiled floors. you adjusted the strap of your duffel bag & guitar case as you took a steadying breath as you followed the crowd toward baggage claim.

It had been months since you last came home, and even longer since you had really felt at home. College had consumed you, with its never-ending stream of exams, late-night study sessions, and endless cups of cheap coffee. Now, with your degree in psychology just a semester away, the weight of expectations pressed heavier on your shoulders.

you tugged her phone from your pocket and skimmed the last text from your dad.

| see you soon kid. we can stop at Bobby’s diner on the way home. i know he’d be over the moon to see you, bet you’re sick of all that tofu & books. don’t forget your still my daughter- not some Freud-loving brainiac”

you stifle a giggle as you head towards the parking lot, eyes skimming for the old green dodge your dad refuses to part with. you let your thoughts drift back to a time before you left for college. when you were waitressing at Bobby’s diner, when you were still with that jackass Colter. when the world felt as if it was falling apart. you quickly shake the thoughts from your head, moving your feet along the pavement out the double doors. your eyes fall on your dads truck, he jumps out with a 9 mile smile as he runs towards you.

“dad! oh my gosh i’ve missed you”

your dad picks you up, wrapping you in one of his signature bear hugs. you melted into his embrace, breathing in the scent of motor oil and aftershave.

“sticks, Look who’s back from the land of overpriced coffee and vegan muffins!”

“Dad, not everyone in college eats vegan muffins.” you laughed.

as your dad grabs your bags, he bombards you with questions. “how was school?” “didn’t meet another jackass like that one boy did you?” “i’m so glad you’re home now sticks, i was real tired of eating take out”

finally. this is what you were searching for. the peace feeling only your dad can seem to give you. the home feeling. you bite the inside of your cheek, feeling the warm smile trying to seep through the wedges in your teeth. you glance out the window, seeing all the familiar streets & shops. the Macleod bakery, Harvelles road house, the dentist your dad would fight tooth & nail to get you into. how was Garth now? you found yourself wondering. it’s been a long time since you were home, you couldn’t be happier. for the first time in years you felt as if you had absolutely no worries. none at all, well until your dad said

“i planned you a welcome home party, more like a bbq but dean was more than happy to let us use his grill. it’s saturday if that works for you sweetheart?”

Dean Winchester had been a part of your life for as long as you could remember, like an unofficial uncle who never missed a BBQ or a birthday. He and your dad, J.P., had been best friends since their teens, inseparable through thick and thin. Dean was brash, charming, and had a knack for pushing your buttons in the way only he could. you hadn’t seen him since Christmas, but the memory of his teasing smirk lingered in your mind.

“sweetheart? is that okay?”

you fumble over your words, trying to push them out & making them seem as nonchalant as possible.

“yeah uh that’s fine dad. can’t wait”

you glance up to see your dad pulling into his usual parking spot outside Bobby’s diner. Bobby was a good man, your dad’s parents weren’t around when you were born so Bobby was quick to claim you as his own granddaughter. blood or not, youre family. as you open the creaky door of your dads old truck, you find every peace of worry gone again. you practically skip to the door, tearing it open as you glance around. ‘that old man really doesn’t change shit’ you thought to yourself.

“sticks? is that really you?”

you thought you were fine, you really convinced yourself until you heard that deep baritone voice. now you felt the ache of tears pressing against your eyes. you whip your head around, eyes meeting the one & only Bobby Singer. the whole diners stopped eating & talking. honing in on the grumpy old man facade slipping from Bobby’s face. you find yourself jogging over to him, he drops the tray to the floor as he quickly envelopes you into a hug.

“Pops! it’s so good to see you”

your voice is muffled from the hold Bobby has on you, his own tears falling down his face into his flannel to mix with yours. you glance up meeting his eyes as he says

“damnit girl, i can’t believe you’re here. how was school? you back for good?”

you pull yourself away hesitantly

“i’m back for good pops. finishing out my last semester here, was hoping you still had that waitressing position open”

your eyebrows shoot up hopefully as a small smirk falls on your face, Bobby wraps his arm around your shoulder as he chuckles

“for you? of course.”

Bobby’s eyes finally meet your fathers, he pulls Jp into a tight hug

“hell boy why didn’t you tell me she was coming home. i’d have-“

jp chuckles as he cuts bobby off

“listen old man, you got enough going on. plus i figured a surprise would do you some good. especially a sticks shaped surprise”

hours passed as you sat & caught up with Bobby, his eyes never leaving yours. almost like he couldn’t believe you were really here. you talked about school, the waitressing job you had in California (but making sure to let Bobby know no place could compare to his). as you ate a smile never left your face, Jp & Bobby telling you stories about the 4 years you were gone. youre laughing, you’re crying. you didn’t know you could feel so many emotions just by coming home. you’re about to leave when Bobby pulls you aside. hugging you as he tells you

“sticks now listen. i know you don’t wanna hear what i’m bout to say but i also know if you hear it from anyone else you’ll lose it. Col-“

you pull away, locking eyes with Bobby

“pops please don’t-“

“wait just a second lemme finish. Colters getting married. got a baby on the way”

you felt the ground beneath your crumble. no, no, no. that couldn’t be happening. your highschool sweetheart. your first kiss, your first- well everything. sure he was mean, a tiny bit abusive but he was yours. or so you thought.

“what do you mean pops? he- he can’t be. there’s no way”

you stumble back but before you fall, bobby’s arms are around you.

“i know kiddo. i know. but hey, maybe it’s better this way huh?”

his hands are wiping the tears you didn’t realize were falling. you had so many questions, did he really love me? how could he move on? why did he never reach out? well maybe it’s because he was too busy out getting some skank pregnant. wait no you can’t think like that, she didn’t do anything to you. it wasn’t like this mystery woman was holding your heart in your hands, no that was that stupid prick Colter.

“who?”

“who what sticks?”

bobby’s eyes look too worrisome. you hate when he gives you those eyes.

“who is he marrying”

bobby sighs, suddenly finding the sticky old floorboards far more interesting than the expression that’s gunna cross your face.

“jo.”

oh that hurt, jo. jo harvelle. your childhood bestfriend. bobby’s grip tightened on you, holding you steady as you go through the waves crashing through you. anger. hurt. betrayal. your dad approaches, seeing the light leave your eyes. he glances at Bobby, sharing a knowing look with him. he wraps his arm around, letting you bid your farewells as he lead you to the truck. as he opened the door for you, you slung yourself into the seat.

“sticks i- i’m sorry”

you wipe the rest of the tears from your face, nodding as you glance around the truck. your eyes get stuck on the polaroid of you & jo. a picture you used to cherish so deeply, but now you’d rather see it cast into the pits of hell. your dad catches what you’re eyes are lingering on as he closes your door. he makes his way around to his side, quickly grabbing the polaroid & stashing it away. he knew when you got told the news things would be different, your pain would be different. Colter was one thing, your highschool sweetheart who never lived up to the ‘sweetheart’ part. the man who made you shed more tears than you ever should’ve, the man who left you alone wondering where he was most nights when he was shacking it up at Harvelles bar, who wouldn’t answer his phone. your dad knew all this, he was the one you called when you couldn’t take it anymore. he was the one who came & picked you up from Colters parents house the night you ended things. the night you found out he cheated. 2 weeks before you left for college. your dad also knew that after you left, there wasn’t a thing he could say or do to make you come back. Jo on the other hand, she was your best friend. practically your sister. there wasn’t a weekend where Jo wasn’t at his house, in his pool, watching you & him work on cars & when you got older the one who helped you sneak those cars out. the one you called when Colter wasn’t treating you right. the one who called you when she knew Colter was at her moms bar. it felt unreal to your father, he couldn’t imagine how you felt.

The hum of tires on asphalt filled the silence as you pulled into the driveway of your childhood home. The house looked the same—warm porch lights glowing, the familiar sight of your first car parked sideways on the side of the house. the garage open, showing the new muscle car your dad must be going nuts over. Jp killed the engine and exhaled deeply. After four years away at college, home felt both comforting and alien.

Inside, you found seemingly nothing changed. the recliner was still the same, the stacks of car manuals everywhere, the coffee cup sized rim indentions on your dads side table, the only different thing was a picture you & your dad took on the 4th of july hanging above the tv stand. you’re standing in a pair of old jean shorts, your red bikini top sneaking out the side of your old worn white t-shirt covered in motor oil. your dad has his signature blue dodgers cap on, his mechanic uniform still clinging to him. laughing right back with you as he holds his belly. Sam took the picture & you were so thankful he did. you carried yourself up to your childhood bedroom, the only thing that changed was the size of the bed. instead of the measly little twin you now were the proud owner of a queen. the sage green comforter looked like a cloud, a dream even.

you dig out a change of clothes, your toiletries & make your way to your bathroom. the peace sign poster you picked out with Jo staring menacingly at you through the reflection. you hesitate for a second before deciding to rip it down. you crumble it up, throwing it in the trash can as you run a hand through your hair. stupid. that’s how you felt. why did you think you’d come back & everything would be waiting for you like the day you left? your eyes longed for tears to fall, you glance up catching yourself in the reflection before you shake your shoulders & sigh. you rip the airport clothes off, turning on a hot shower as you slip in. you hum the tune of an AC/DC song as you lather the soap in your hands & through your hair. you’re back, regardless of how anyone else feels. your got your job back at Bobby’s, you’re finishing your degree this year. everything’s gunna work out. everything’s gunna be fine, but if that was the truth why did you feel as if something was missing?

you get out of the shower, quickly drying off as you throw on a old tank top & a pair of sweats. you towel dry your hair, glancing over to the fogged up mirror as you pull a brush through it. you throw your dirty clothes in your laundry basket as you slide on your slippers. you make your way back to your room, settling down on the bed as you open up your bag.

your dads footsteps tear you from your thoughts, you glance up as he’s carrying a beer. you take it thankfully as he settles beside you on the bed, glancing over at your guitar case.

“you still play sticks?”

you nod, as you take a swig of your beer

“i do. ain’t played as much as id like too with how busy things have been though”

your dad takes a swig of his own beer, he smiles as he says

“well after dinner i want you to play me something”

you smile & nod, you loved playing for your dad. he’s who taught you really, who gave you the guitar you lug around everywhere. you run your fingers absentmindedly across the label of the beer as you think back to the time he gave you the guitar. it was your 11th birthday, the smile he beamed down at you was something you’d never allow yourself to forget. that, that was probably your happiest memory. your dads voice interrupts your thoughts as he says

“well i’ll be out in the garage. we’ll have some company for dinner since i gotta work from home today. you need me you come find me okay sugar?”

you smile to yourself, boy was it great to have someone care so much for you. you were used to just being ignored, not making but 1 singular friend in your years of college. Ashley. she was like a girl you’d never met before, ambitious, smart, beautiful, funny. the sarcasm that girl carried was something unreal. your dad already loved her after meeting her the one singular time he flew out to visit. you plop down on your bed, pulling your phone out as you quickly press ashley’s number. she picks up after the 3rd sing yelling through the phone

“sticks! come back oh god i’ll never make it without you”

sticks? since when did ashley also call you that? what is with everyone wanting this nickname to stick? you roll your eyes at your unintentional pun

“well hello there ash i miss you too” you giggle into the phone

“but no seriously how is it? feel better being at home?”

you bite back the endless trials of emotions you went through today, choosing not to unload the disaster your life’s become in a measly 24 hours. you find yourself picking at the thread of your sweats as you offer small talk, informing her you got your job back at the diner until you graduate. her swearing she’s flying out the second the gets the chance. you giggle & talk as you glance at the clock, you realized you completely lost track of time & you were sure dinner was ready. you hang up, promising you’ll call her after your first day as you make your way downstairs, the scent of ordered in pizza catches your nose as you giggle to yourself. as your feet touch the bottom step your dad turns to you

“well there she is, cmon sticks say hello”

you walk around the doorframe as your heart catches in your throat. Dean. Winchester.

“hey Freud” he greeted, his voice low drawl “long time no see”

“Freud, really?” you arched any eyebrow, meeting his gaze. his green eyes sparkled with mischief, & that smirk — God that smirk — was firmly in place.

“Freud, Jung, whoever you kids are into these days” dean shot back, standing from his place on the couch.

your dad chuckles

“don’t mind him, he’s just mad he’s too old to understand what you’re studying”

you laugh as you shake your head

dean cuts in as he says

“oh i understand it just fine” he said as he walks up to you “it’s all about mommy issues, right?”

you snorted

“i’m studying psychology, not you dean”

your dad burst out laughing, deans smirk faltering for a moment. he gave you an exaggerated bow as he says “Touchè”

as your dad drags dean over to the table you let yourself study his features, he looked the same — rough around the edges but effortlessly put together. his hands calloused & stained in motor oil. the veins prominent as he grabs the pizza box, smiling at something your father said. you quickly averted your gaze, feeling an unwelcomed heat creep up your neck.

“so sticks you nervous bout being back?”

your dad asks

you hesitated unsure of how to answer especially after the whirlwind of emotions you had to overcome today.

“a little. it’s been awhile, you know? i’m used to being busy all the time. having my job back at Pops surely will help though”

“well you’re home now.” your dad said, his voice warm. “relax, eat something other than cafeteria food & maybe give some of your old man here some of that brainiac advice” he beams

“careful” dean adds smirking, “you might open a can of worms with that one if you ain’t careful ‘old man’ “

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smirk that fell on your face. it felt good to be back, banter, baggage & all.

—————————————

by the time you made it to the table you were trying to decide if you could just crawl up to your room or out the window, on the latter they would definitely know something was up. i mean your dad knew, he seen it first hand all day. but dean? no. he could not & would not see you crumble over something like that. it was hard enough to try to keep the actual relationship issues from dean when it happened, he definitely didn’t need the after effects.

you decided what’s the worst that could happen, you’re in your own home. with your father, & really you were just nervous. you did not expect to see dean today, not any day before saturday really. that’s why you find yourself turning to your dad & joking

“i’m surprised the houses still stands after how long i was gone”

“barely sticks” jp jokes as he grumbles “dean here only fixed the roof last week, don’t lean on the railing. it’s a death trap”

“hey that’s quality work” dean protests before taking a bite of his pizza

“quality work” you echoed, eyeing him. “remind me not to hire you when i get my own place.”

dean grins, leaning back in his chair as he wipes the pizza sauce from his lip

“don’t worry. i charge extra for smartasses”

your dad throws him a joking glare as he gets up to fetch some beers, leaving you both alone for the first moment since youve been home. you shift in your seat as you take a bite of your pizza.

“it’s good to see you sticks” dean said, his tone softer now as he catches your eye

you look up, startled by the sincerity in his voice. a small smile fights it way to your lips as you say “you too dean”

for a fleeting moment, you felt as if something electric, & impossible to ignore flashed between you. as quick as the moment appeared it dissolved when your dad breached the door with a huge grin

“beers here”

————————-

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