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wraithdance · 1 month

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Stray Dogs | GHOAP x Reader

Synopsis: You never had a problem with strays, but you should have been wary of the rabid dogs begging to be leashed.

Note: AFAB!Reader, No phys. description but reader has background story, no y/n use or gender terms for reader, Reader is LGBTQ (Bi/Pan) w/ Avoidant attachment issues. Content warning: Mature | domestic partner violence and harassment, avoidant attachment traits, mentions of sickness/vomiting, sexually explicit content, mentions of p in v sex, alcohol consumption/misuse & physical violence.

Chapter One: Soap Comes Over

Foxy won’t stop calling you.

The first attempt to reach you after the breakup started two weeks after dead silence. You’d been in the middle of a presentation at work when the phone rang. Thankfully you had the foresight to keep the ringer on silent, but you’d been checking your email when her contact lights up the screen.

You freeze.

“Do you need to get that?” Your boss Marc had interrupted the poor intern going over the quarter projections. His startling gray eyes bore into you as he looks down his nose. He raises a thick brow when you forget to answer, it’s mocking and layered.

It pulls you out of your stupor long enough to put your cell on do not disturb. You flip the offending object face down on the table before giving Marc an apologetic half smile.

“No sir, sorry about that, it can wait.”

He looks at you for a beat longer than polite then signals the nervous intern to go on.

From the corner of your eye you can see your assistant Eric cutting eyes at you from beside you at the conference table. You meet his look head on with a deadpan expression of your own. It doesn’t deter him from mouthing ‘what the hell?’

You ignore him.

It’s not like you had an answer yourself. You’d been dealing with the impending episode that came with a doomed relationship as best you could. So, you didn’t know why she was calling you when she’d made it clear she wanted nothing to do with you. Your mind was unfocused throughout the rest of the meeting.

You accept the call that comes in when you’re walking to your office.

“Why wouldn’t you pick up the fucking phone?!” She screams into your ear as soon as the call connects. It makes you pause in your trek.

What the hell?

“Fox-" you clear your throat and cover the slip up. “Taylor, I’m at work. I can’t just pick up whenever, you called me during an important meet-”

She screams into the receiver loud enough you need to bring the speaker away from your ear. Margarita from accounting gives you a startled look as she passes, having heard.

Shit.

You flash your coworker a disarming smile and placing the phone at the juncture of your neck and shoulder.

“Hi Margs, are we still on for happy hour next week?”

Margarita laughs, swatting you with the manila folder in her hand.

“Of course someone’s got to keep you from climbing onto the tabletops.” she winks.

That causes you to wince in embarrassment. The after effects of the impromptu tequila shot contest during the last happy hour had not been your finest moment. (You couldn’t turn down a double dog dare though, you weren’t a coward.)

“Okay, I’ll see you there Margs, I have to wrap up this call.” You return her retreating wave and press the phone back to your ear.

You frown in confusion.

“Foxy?” A glance at the screen shows you that she’d hung up. Strange. You don’t have to wonder what happened for long before the texts start flooding in.

> you never fucking cared about me did you.

You know it’s meant to be a statement not a question. You’re typing a response when the next texts come in rapid succession.

> How have you already moved on so soon??? you’re such a fucking bitch!! >I hate you >I HATE YOU

You’d barely made it to a restroom before vomiting.

You meet your dead eyes in the executive bathroom mirror, rinsing cold water in your mouth and spitting into the ornate sink. Your mascara is smudged from the tears prickling the corner of your lashes. Worse is the full body shaking and gut churning panic that takes over your limbs.

Double shit.

You text Marc that you’d be working from home the rest of the day. He asks why and you cite a family emergency taking priority. You’re not sure if he believes you but you chance it nonetheless.

You answer Foxy’s calls the first days after. Reasoning with her on the validity of her claims of you never having cared for her is met with more screaming and hysterical crying on her end.

When you finally block her you’re riddled with guilt and anxiety so intense it zings through you. Foxy starts calling from an unknown number after that.

You spend the rest of the day in bed with your phone off. Your muscles hurt from staying in the fetal position, you’re sweating profusely under the comforter despite the freezing temperatures in your flat. It’s almost a blessing when you lose track of time and falter in and out of restless sleep.

Until Duckie calls your work phone when you don’t respond about her dinner thing to meet her new boyfriend. You’d done your best to skirt around the topic but your usually laissez-faire friend is irritated at your noncommittal answers.

She snaps at you and you know it’s warranted. You’d already had a talk about pushing past your anxieties and being more forthcoming with her.

Still you panic and hang up on her.

This time you don’t make it to the bathroom when you’re suddenly sick. Your left leg is on fire where you’d landed on it in your hurry to get out of bed. You’re frantically scrubbing puke out of your good throw rug on the bathroom floor, waiting for Duckie to pick up your Video call.

Her ocean blue glasses fill up the screen before she sits back enough for you to see her scowling round face. You’re sobbing before she can say a word.

“She won’t stop fucking calling me!”

Duckie blinks in confusion, anger momentarily forgotten.

“What? Darling I can barely understand you, who won’t stop calling?”

“Foxy!” You cry out, “She’s called me 48 times since this morning, I haven’t slept through the night since last Thursday and there’s puke on my new rug!”

Duckie comes over and helps you change your phone number.

Your teeth chatter on the line with the overly cheery agent at your phone company. Duckie rubs soothing circles on your trembling back, a frown unnatural on her usually smiling face. It takes several hours of promises and consuming everything Duckie sets in front of you before she’s willing to leave you alone again.

“Darling, call me if anything else happens okay? I’m serious. I’m still pissed at you for not telling me she was harassing you like that. You really need to talk to me.”

You’d like to object to that.

The threads of self loathing already tighten around your body with the fact that you needed her support already. You don’t tell her that though. You kiss her cheeks and follow her to the door. Swearing you’d call her the second anything else happened and confirm the day you’d be free for dinner.

The second the door closes behind her the energy saps out of your body. You slink to the floor in your foyer in a boneless heap.

Triple shit.

Foxy starts showing up to your house.

She hadn’t taken being ignored very well and had banged on your door, demanding you come out and speak to her.

You’d finally opened the door when your neighbor texted that they would be calling the police if you didn’t get her under control. Foxy launched at you the second you came into view.

Your cheek still sports from the slap she’d managed to half connect before you shifted your face.

You’d managed to push her out of your home and lock the door to your apartment, dodging her clawed fingers as best you could. She kicked and screamed obscenities at the door while you’d called the police yourself. Unsurprisingly by the time the police showed up she’d gone. You write a report nonetheless.

After another week you’d been hopeful she’d gotten the hint and would leave you alone for good. Your sweet neighbor Mrs. Henderly had stopped you on the way to work whispering that a woman had been digging through your planter.

The planter where you kept your spare key.

Despite having the locks changed you’re still paranoid. It’s why you’re currently in a bar near your home, sipping on ginger ale and watching a fight break out.

After some thought you come to the conclusion that Johnny MacTavish is like a rooster.

You watch him puff out his chest to strut around like the biggest cock in the yard in the overcrowded space. From where you’re sitting at the bar you can tell the restraint he has over his muscles, it’s in his carefully controlled motions and showy posturing. His choice of hair is just a laughable coincidence when you think about it.

If Duckie were here you’d know she’d agree with you.

She’d nervously giggle and make some terrible joke about wondering if he was overcompensating that you’d scoff at. Your gaze runs down the firm expanse of his broad shoulders in his blank t-shirt and his jean covered thighs. You take a sip of your drink and shudder. He was the size of a tank, it would be a cruel twist of fate for him to be a lousy fuck.

Still, watching him beat a man to a pulp with single minded focus makes you think of your grandfather's prized cock fighting rooster. The bird was the center of a terrible memory and you hadn’t thought about him or your late maternal grandfather in years. Until now, in the dingy bar nearly a decade later.

Johnny circles his downed prey like a bloodthirsty game fowl, the drunken crowd jeers in excitement while a waitress screams for help stopping the brawl.

There’s a startling unhinged quality to Johnny’s eyes as he lays a succession of blows on the man who’d called you a cunt for denying his advances.

The drunk had been loud and getting more and more aggressive with you when you told him to leave you alone. You’d been at your breaking point preparing to smash your glass in his face when Johnny's right hook came out of nowhere to connect to the bastard's face.

Johnny's pupils are blown out and his smile bright as he takes fists and returns them with triple the fervor. Occasionally his glacial blue eyes bore into yours, making sure that you’re still watching.

A knight, waging war in your honor.

You’d never been a damsel before, it’s something you mull over as you watch the bartender and other patrons wrestle Johnny from atop the now unconscious man on the floor.

You close your tab and follow where they manhandle him outside.

Johnny’s knuckles are raw and split. He doesn’t seem to notice or care as he takes out a cigarette and attempts to ignite it with a cheap lighter. When the blood from his knuckles causes his thumb to slip on the spark wheel he curses into the night. You step forward from your place just inside the bar door and he watches your approach with lidded interest.

Taking the lighter from his hands you wipe it on the side of your black jeans, before holding the lighter to his mouth.

He was definitely far from a knight, you think, observing him from under your lashes. He stares back openly without blinking as he puffs the cigarette to fire. His focus makes your heart beat thunderously in your chest.

“Do ye smoke?” He tilts the cigarette in an offer. You shake your head with a smile.

“No, bad habit.”

He laughs, it’s humorless, layered with something more. “Ar’nt most things?”

You make a noncommittal sound, not really caring to consider it. You’re content to watch him, watch you. It’s a game of chicken you’re used to playing with most men, testing their resolve. Johnny doesn’t flinch or look away and you like that.

The eye contact is broken by the sound of the bar door opening. The noise from inside spills out in the night as two men struggle to carry the limp form between them. The man Johnny pummeled into a pulp is barely conscious, stumbling on his unsteady feet.

His head lolls to the side and you watch the eye that isn’t blackened widen when he takes in Johnny and you.

‘Fockin’ bastard I’m gonna fockin’ kill ya!” He slurs out.

The man thrashes, kicking his feet and all in an attempt to escape the two hand carry. Johnny just laughs meanly puffing on the cigarette without a fuck to give.

“I’m gonna fuck your slag too, see how she likes taking real cock you Irish fuck!”

The crazed look in Johnny's eyes is back as he flicks the still smoking cigarette into the bushes.

“Ya mam is the only one who wants a turn on yer howlin’ cock!” Johnny barks out darkly “c’mere I’ll black your other eye for ya, ye fuckin’ bawbag!”

You’re smiling when you place a hand on his chest stopping him from charging forward.

No, he’s definitely not a knight at all.

But you won’t be satisfied until you’ve ridden his cock nonetheless.

He sees it in your expression when he looks at you. A muscle in his jaw jumps when his eyes dart between your parted mouth and the man who’d insulted you both, weighing out the desire to war or kiss it better.

You know he chooses the latter when he cups a hand on the back of your neck, tilting your head back to force your face close to his.

“What’s yer name hen?”

You tell him. He gives you his (you know it, you’ve been watching him at the bar since you'd come in.) He tells you to call him Soap if you want, you raise a brow at that but shrug. It wasn’t your business you’ll never see him again after tonight.

“Okay, my place or yours?”

You have to pass the bruised and drunken man to get to the path of your apartment. Despite his previous bravado he flinches when Johnny crowds him, silently daring him to say a word.

“I’m nae Irish, I’m Scottish ya daft fucker. I see ya even pissin’ distance near here again and I’ll put ye down like a fuckin’ dog.”

One of the other men puts a hand out to Johnny's chest to put some distance between the two. Johnny brushes it off with a sneer but takes the hand you offer him. He follows you silently through the darkened night and you laugh to yourself.

Definitely not a knight at all.

Johnny takes up space in your apartment like he pays bills in it. His big legs spread out on the couch, one hand tapping rhythmically on his bouncing thigh while the other holds your remote with your floral throw pillow tucked under his arm. He's clicking through channels with half attention.

Your mouth twitches when he lands on Planet Earth with a grunt. While he’s engrossed in the mating instincts of primates you top off your drinks with ice, juice for you and leftover wine for Johnny.

He pulls you into his lap when you go to hand him his cup, you allow it with a breathy laugh. Johnny takes a sip of the red wine before wrinkling his nose and taking a sniff of your cup instead.

“Are ye trying to get me drunk bonnie? Why’re ye nae drinking too?”

“I don't drink anymore.” you reply with a shrug that’s meant to be unceremonious.

You hadn’t had a drink since Duckie threatened you with an intervention after finding you blacked out one too many days in a row. Your breakup with your ex-girlfriend had opened up old wounds already, but the constant harassment stressed you out enough.

Regrettably, you’d exhausted all of your therapy options, so drinking was the only thing you could think of to self medicate. Now, you didn’t have anything harder than a mocktail. Simple as that.

“Here we can share mine.”

You take quick sips of your juice and hand the cup to Johnny, taking his mug in hand and placing it on the coffee table. He thanks you and gulps some down and passing the cup back to you. This goes on for a while until the cup is empty. Johnny palms your ass through your jeans when you set the empty glass aside. You roll your hips against his crotch slowly, bracing your hands on his knees to rock and swirl into his hardening cock with added pressure.

He groans and slides his big palms up to your waist gripping tight and thrusting up into your covered core.

“Och, hen keep movin’ like that and I’ll give ye somethin’ to sit on.” You snort out a laugh.

That’s the point.

You look at the time displayed on the screensaver of the television. It was 3am on a Saturday. Which means you had about seven hours until your support group and the rest of the day to prepare for Duckie’s ‘meet the man’ dinner. So, technically you had less than 2 hours to milk Johnny of all the cum in his body and send him on his way so you could sleep.

Tight turn around but you’ve worked with less.

With that in mind you climb out of Johnny’s lap standing in front of him, ignoring his protests. He doesn’t pout for long as he watches you lift your shirt and toss it aside. His blue eyes glaze over with want as you reach for the buttons of your jeans and slide them down your thighs along with your panties. He makes a guttural noise between a groan and a curse when you unhook your bra last, dropping it to the floor beside you.

The poor man is conflicted between looking between your legs at your soaked thighs and making eyes at your hardening nipples with the cute jewelry that decorates them. He finally settles on palming his cock under his pants and reaching out to palm your belly moving to cup your cunt. You stop him, tapping your foot against his shoe (which makes you scrunch your nose up, he should have taken them off at the door.)

“Pretty boy, eyes up here and take your clothes off.”

Leaning back on the couch, Johnny scoffs with petulant indignation, “Ye dinnae have to sweeten me up just to ask to see my prick hen.”

That gets you laughing outright, “Not trying to sweeten you up, you are very pretty, baby.”

You reach over to card your fingers through his short mohawk and down the sides, scratching his scalp as you go. “Besides, If you didn’t want me to see your ‘prick’ you wouldn’t be here now would you?”

Johnny’s ears turn flame red as he leans back to accept more of your gentle stroking, his dark lashes flutter concealing the vibrant blue of his eyes from view. It’s cute. You’d been so sure he’d be the type to preen under compliments but his boyish embarrassment and openness is refreshing.

“C’mere bonnie thing let me get a look at ye.”

You aren’t expecting it when he wraps his big hands around the curve of your ass, swinging your body down to the couch beneath him in seconds.

Your muscles lock up under the sudden shift and the feel of his heavy mass pressed against your body. His arms cage around your head and his face is close for you to smell the lingering scent of cigarette smoke and his cologne. It brings memories of another time and place you fight to keep buried.

The effort makes your stomach churn violently.

Your hands press against the wall of Johnny’s chest frantically pushing him back, struggling to stay calm. Johnny sees the unconcealed panic on your face and the shallow breaths you take in. He immediately lifts off to lean back on his haunches on the couch cushions, giving you space. Still, you scoot as far back as you can to the other end of the couch to try and steady your racing heartbeat. The sudden whiplash of memories and fear makes you light headed.

“Lass are ye a’right?"

You blink trying to clear the sudden brain fog.

A wide eyes Johnny rubs soothing hands on the sides of your calves watching your face for any sign of discomfort. Your throat is tight and you miss the opportunity to answer him in a timely fashion. It causes him to reach a hand up to your face which you flinch from, his dark brows furrow. The sudden concern in his expression makes the palms of your hand sweat in discomfort.

Fuck.

“Are ye a’right?” Johnny asks again, this time not allowing you to back away from his touch. His calloused hands leave warmth in their wake as he rubs down your arm.

“Yes I’m sorry, I’m good.” You wave him off not looking at him directly. “I just prefer to be on top. I should have said something earlier.”

“Hen are ye sure? Ye look like ye were having a momen- creepin’ Jesus!” Johnny jerks when you dart forward to reach inside his pants and stroke his softening cock back to life.

You didn’t have time for him to ask daunting questions that would freak you out to answer. You had approximately -you glance at the clock- an hour and sixteen minutes to ride this pony and put him out to pasture.

You were on a mission so you bring out the big guns.

“I’m good Johnny, I just got a little overwhelmed, I promise. I still want you if you want me.” You pout, pumping his rigid cock with one hand and trailing a manicured finger down his bicep with the other (why the hell they were so large, only the universe knows). The angle is a bit awkward but it successfully overwhelms his senses by the way his breathing catches.

You’re able to shimmy on to your knees to press chaste kisses along his jawline and throat, watching his eyes cloud over completely.

“You still want me Johnny?” You whisper in his ear.

Johnny answers your teasing by grasping the back of your neck and pressing your mouth open with a demanding kiss. His tongue tastes sweet with the remnants of the juice, he shudders when you suck on his tongue pulling back and forth like you were taking his cock. He groans deep and loud in your mouth when you squeeze the base of his cock in a tight grip.

“Fuck- aye I want ye hen,

Hook. Line. Sinker.

You try not to smile when he pushes you back to hurry and discard his clothing in record time. He was pretty everywhere it seemed. Down to the thick patch of dark hair on his belly that transitioned to his trimmed pubes. His tanned body is riddled with scars that add to the roguish appeal that caught your eyes in the bar.

You let out an appreciative sound when his cock finally comes into view. He was girthy and uncut, the veins along his shaft prominent in a way that made your mouth water. The head leaked pre-cum out of the pinked tip like a faucet.

“Ye like what you see I ken?” Johnny smiles wolfishly, showing teeth.

“Yeah,” you snort, “that’s not even a question, I like it a lot.”

He stops you from reaching for him again with a hand to your wrist. His eyes are searching and you know he’s going to ask if you were lying about being okay, so you beat him to the punch.

“I’m okay, I swear I just panicked a little, it's no big deal. If you want to make it up to me you can give me a kiss right here.” You take his hand and guide it to your drenched cunt, spreading his fingers to glide through the slick from your entrance to your clit, as you roll your hips.

‘Fuck’ you both whisper in tandem. Johnny doesn’t waste another minute and pushes you back against the couch, diving to lap at your folds with a flat tongue.

Your head lays back on the arm of the couch and you sigh. Another look at the clock shows you have at least a full hour left. It’s not ideal, but you think you can work with it. With that in mind you stroke Johnny’s head in encouragement, whispering how good he made you feel and gasping at the sensations pulsating through you.

Finally, the muscles that had been taut for weeks relaxed. This was good. You’ll get the itch scratched after an orgasm or two and blissfully slumbering in no time.

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#idc if this is good or not tbh #as long as its done smfh #stray dogs #simon ghost riley #wraith king #mr clean #john soap mactavish

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save-the-villainous-cat · 2 months

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It wasn't like the hero had planned this.

"Is this a joke?"

And it wasn't like they had much of a choice, either.

"Hey," they said. Their voice wasn't even fully there. It wasn't much more than a breath. Their hands were still trembling and they didn't dare to meet the villain's eyes. All in all, they felt pathetically incompetent. "Do you have bandages?"

The villain stared at them as if the hero was something alien that came out of a laboratory.

The hero supposed they couldn't blame them - they looked pretty fucked up with the blood running down their temple or the many cuts on their arms and legs.

"If this is one of your sad attempts where you try to get some heroic action out of me by pretending-"

The hero raised their arms in a defensive manner and contorted their face when their open wounds continued to torture them. It had been painful enough to drag themselves to the villain’s apartment.

"I just need some bandages," they said. "I have nothing on me. Frisk me. You can kick my ass when I do anything suspicious."

"Fine." The villain opened the door even further and let the hero walk past them. The villain's apartment was small but neat - just as the hero had expected. They knew their nemesis was a rather orderly person. Someone who had their rules and methods and acted accordingly. Hell, even their fighting was the most coordinated thing the hero had ever seen.

They heard the door close behind them.

Fascinated by the villain's choice of decoration, they barely noticed how they were about to reach the living room already. However, suddenly, the hero felt the villain's hand on their shoulder and in the next second, they got pushed against the hallway's wall.

Reluctantly, they whimpered, feeling the pain of their open wounds a little too well. The villain was right in front of them, studying their enemy carefully.

They cocked their head. They leaned over.

"Take your shoes off," the villain said. The hero swallowed. Although they had been this close to each other countless times, it was a little different now.

It was a little different in the villain's home, a little different with the hero's aching body. It was surely true that - to some extent - the hero wasn't just here for bandages. Deep within, they wanted some comfort but they knew not to ask for that. They had learnt a long time ago not to ask for these things.

"Sorry," the hero mumbled. They slipped out of their shoes without even looking down. The villain's gaze was indecipherable. Were they mad? Or bored? Or annoyed? The hero couldn't tell.

"I'm gonna check you for weapons now."

"Oh, yeah...yes." The villain's fingers were on them instantly and to the hero's surprise, they were stupidly gentle.

It could have been easy to make the hero suffer in a stage like this. With wounds all over their body, the villain could have grabbed them or pushed their fingers into the cuts but none of that ever happened.

Their fingers were simply ghosting over the hero's suit, avoiding the horrible wounds. Once the villain's hands were on their hips, the hero had to blush.

"Now tell me what happened," the villain said. Their voice was calm but their gaze was fixated on the hero.

Then, they kneeled in front of them, with their hands going down both sides of the hero's left thigh.

"Oh, I..."

And then the other thigh.

The hero took in a deep breath. It was hard to imagine that they were able to push their pain aside for a second because the villain was touching their thighs. Being distracted was a luxury they couldn't afford.

"I was in the middle of a training session and...I kinda freaked out and teleported to the other end of the city."

Admittedly, the hero hated their powers. Being a teleporter had a lot of potential, especially considering the different ways of defeating an enemy. They could be quite creative. It was somewhat exciting but it was still an incredibly difficult superpower to control.

In the beginning, the hero would teleport to random places. It had been so bad, in fact, that the agency had decided to lock them up for a few months. The hero understood it had been necessary but even today, they had nightmares about it.

Although they could control themselves now, sometimes (under immense stress), they would teleport with no control whatsoever.

It was pure chaos.

"I landed in the park nearby."

The villain was still kneeling. They looked up.

"So, you are telling me these cuts are from a training session? And you panicked during a training session so much that you teleported?"

"Pretty much, yeah." The villain let their fingers glide under the hero's pants right by their ankle and it quickly dawned on the hero that they had made a stupid mistake.

Presumably, the villain had known all along about the tiny knife the hero was always hiding right there. The hero's ears started to burn. The villain was going to throw them out.

They stood up and suddenly, the hero was oh so aware of how much taller the villain actually was compared to them. They held up the tiny knife.

"And you think that is normal?"

"Listen, I am so sorry. I forgot about that. I never meant to-"

"You believe it is okay that this happened?"

"What?"

"You teleporting to the other end of the city? You think that is normal?"

"It was just an accident," the hero said. They shrugged and even that hurt. "Things like that happen."

"Do you know why your body does this?" the villain asked. Apparently, they were done with their search. They confiscated the knife, barely paying any attention to it and the fact that, technically, the hero had lied to them about being unarmed.

They took the hero's arm and stared at a particularly deep cut. The hero could remember how it had happened; they had raised their arms to defend themselves from the upcoming attack. The blood was still running.

"I think I just suck at controlling my powers. I need to…you know, train more."

"It is a survival instinct," the villain said. "You are teleporting because your body wants to be anywhere but in that situation. A training session is supposed to challenge you, not traumatise you."

"You don't have to worry about me. In case that is what you are doing."

"I am…" The villain frowned. "I actually don't know what I am doing right now."

At least the villain was honest.

"But you need a bit more than just bandages," they continued. "Sit down in the living room. Just…"

The villain seemed a little confused. Their eyes avoided the hero, their fingers were still on them. The hero wasn't sure if their enemy was actually embarrassed.

I actually don't know what I am doing right now.

The hero smiled to themselves.

They didn't know what the villain was doing either but, at least, they were comforting, even though the hero being here could turn out to be a major risk for them.

"…just don't bleed all over my couch."

They weren't even mad when the hero failed to do that.

#this sucks but eh #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #teleporter hero #I reallyyy like teleporters #injured hero #I have to get better at tagging

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memoriez119 · 1 month

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Unexpected beginnings

who would think that being pushed down the stairs by accident would be the best thing that could happen to you?

pairing: anton x fem!reader

genre: fluff and enemies to lovers ofc

warning: mention of blood

nai's note: this is my first story in a while so sorry if there are any mistakes or if this isn't that good. Enjoy !

Monday morning, boring, at least you have Sungchan by your side, or so you thought, minutes ago he asked permission to go to the bathroom and he hasn't come back. You don't know when he did it, or maybe he didn't. Apparently you're the only one paying attention to the class because the teacher is only looking at you and another boy, Anton, annoying, smart, shy and handsome, but that doesn't make him any less annoying, of course. You're not that close to Anton, in fact, you don't talk to him, you just usually compete to be the best grade in the class, even so, you don't talk to each other, and it's better.

The only interaction you had with Anton was at an academic competition, you came in second place and he came in first, despite never having spoken to each other, he gave you a mocking smile while making eye contact, you took it personally, how dare he make such a gesture when you hadn't even said hello to each other?, disrespectful. You disliked him ever since that interaction.

The bell that indicates it's time for lunch rang and everyone ran, a boy kicked your backpack by accident and you just picked it up shaking it while sighing tiredly, it's not the first time it happens. You heard a laugh, it's Anton watching you trying to contain himself. You opened your backpack and began to put away your supplies, then, you took out your makeup bag to touch up, you feel a look so you turn around and see how Anton moves his head quickly to the other side. You stopped looking at him and realized that you are the only ones in the classroom. You put your things away and leave the classroom heading to the hallway. It's full of students and you can only walk close to the wall, you feel something brush your hair and when you turn around, Anton's face is a few centimeters from yours, he is smiling shyly.

"Why did you touch me?", you ask "What's wrong? You were going to bump into the locker, be careful, they're pushing each other around here", he said as he walked away from you with some discomfort.

"Thanks, I think". You turned around and continued walking a little uncomfortable, you reached the stairs and out of curiosity, you look back to see if Anton is still behind you, but there's no trace of him, apparently he got lost among the other students. You start to go down the steps when suddenly you feel a strong blow to your back that propels you forward, you fall face first onto the ground and you stay there for a few seconds assimilating what just happened, when you lift your face you feel a liquid coming out of your nose and running down the rest of your face. You turned around dizzy and the others approached you to see you but you don't even have time to get up completely when you are already in someone's arms, the pain in your nose begins to be unbearable that you can't do anything else, you just close your eyes.

Minutes later, when you open your eyes you realize that you are lying on the bed in the infirmary. You hear a familiar voice and when you turn your head you see Anton talking to the nurse, he looks worried. They both turn to look at you and Anton turns his back on you when he realizes that you are looking at him.

The nurse approaches you and begins to check you and clean your face but you are still confused, did Anton bring you here? She finishes the check and makes you get up, leaving you sitting on the bed for a few minutes. "I'll tell your boyfriend that everything is fine", says the nurse walking away from you. Did she say boyfriend? While you are taking it all in, Anton approaches you.

"How's your nose?" he asks you "Fine, it hurts a little, what are you doing here?", you say while rubbing your nose and looking at him. "I was the one who brought you here, isn't it obvious?" "Thanks for bringing me, I could have done it myself" "I doubt it, you were lying on the floor, we thought you were dead or something, I got worried" "Why?" "Is it wrong? I wouldn't have anyone to compete with in class or to make fun of for coming in second".

You just rolled your eyes, you get up from the bed looking for your backpack but when you can't find it you turn to look at him in confusion.

"Your backpack is heavy and the nurse says that it's better to avoid heavy loads, at least until the pain goes away", he says while putting his backpack and yours on his shoulders. "If I have to avoid heavy loads then I have to avoid you too, give me my backpack". "How rude, now walk, we have gym class, we can't be late", he said while taking you by the arm and leading you out of the infirmary.

During the walk neither of you said a word, the atmosphere feels tense and when you look down you see that he is still holding your arm, you release the grip and fix your uniform and hair, you only feel his gaze but you don't say anything.

When you arrive at the field, the teacher scolds you for being late and you see how everyone looks at you in amazement, you hadn't thought about how strange it is to see the two of you together. Anton pulls you by the arm to take you to the teacher and explain your situation, you didn't expect an answer from him but when you heard it you were surprised. Now you find yourself leaving the school, Anton behind you carrying your backpack and his and a bottle of water that he bought for you.

"I can’t believe the teacher let us leave early, it feels weird,” you said, turning to look at him. "I guess he wants to see you well, you are the best in his class" You stopped walking when you heard that, is he calling you the best in the class? Anton? Anton Lee? "Anyway, where do you want to go?" He asked looking at you attentively, there's something different in his gaze but you can't figure out what it is. "I was thinking about going home, I have nothing to do" "Would you like to go to the mall? I heard that a stuffed animal store opened and I'd like to see it", he said shyly "Okay, I just have to comb my hair, my hair is tangled". You couldn't even finish your sentence when you felt his hand stroke your hair.

"Ready, shall we go?", he took your arm and led you to the bus stop, you sat in silence waiting for the bus. You can't look him in the eyes after what he did. Your gaze is on your feet, suddenly you see his foot hitting yours, you turn to look at him and he looks so, cute?, he's smiling, he looks so different, he doesn't look like the Anton Lee you see at school. You got on the bus and sat in two different rows, you laugh when you see that you're separated from each other and he just stares at you with a smile. Everything feels weird.

When you got to the mall he grabbed your hand and started running, you just followed him. In the store, he started showing you all the stuffed animals he likes, he looks like an excited little boy, it makes you happy to see him excited like that, it's a side of him you hadn't imagined.

When you left, he invited you to eat something from the food area, he bought hamburgers for both of you and you sat at a table, you began to eat in silence, you only felt someone looking at you and when you turned around it was Anton seeing you with a look very different from the others, it is a warm look, a look that could say more than a thousand words, but what kind of words? You smiled at him and he smiled back, you kept looking at each other for several seconds until a man selling flowers arrived.

"How beautiful is love, wouldn't you like to buy a flower for your beautiful girlfriend?" said the man interrupting Anton turned to look at you as if he were asking for permission, you just smile at him and see how he takes money out of his wallet and gives it to the man Anton extended the flower towards where you are and you take it as if it were something delicate. "Nothing is going to happen to the flower, you can hold it well, it is a gift" "Why are you giving it to me?" You said looking at him in confusion "I thought it would be nice to give you a flower after your nose bled, did you like it?" "Yes, it's cute, thanks", you said smiling at him.

After finishing eating, you continued walking around the mall. You started to feel dizzy so you sat down on the first bench you saw. Anton got worried and sat next to you. He's close to you, very close, checking that everything is okay. "It's okay, it was just a simple dizziness. We can keep walking". "Are you sure?" you just nodded at his question and grabbed his hand to guide him to a photo booth.

You entered and sat down and began to pose. You leaned on his shoulder, turning to look at him, and you didn't expect that he would also turn towards you, causing your noses to bump. You are surprised when he bends down a little more, adjusting to your height to get closer to you. His gaze connects with yours, you feel like everything fades away, it's just him and you. Your heartbeat speeds up as you look into his eyes, not knowing what to do or say.

Suddenly, almost as if it were natural, his lips touch yours, and everything feels warm and euphoric at the same time. You can't help but close your eyes when you feel his touch. His lips slowly part, you look into his eyes searching for something in him, something that can explain what just happened, he just smiles at you and approaches you again to give you another short and cute kiss, you just laugh feeling like there are butterflies fluttering inside you.

You keep looking at each other for a few more seconds, you know that something special was born from that kiss you shared. You stand up to pick up the photos that were taken and take his hand, this time intertwining your fingers. You can't help but smile when you feel his hands together, he turns to look at you smiling, squeezing your hands tighter as if he didn't want them to let go.

The day continued as normal, but something between you changed, you know that there is something new between you that you couldn't have imagined, and that kiss you shared is the beginning of something great between you two, a beautiful love story that has just begun.

#riize imagines #riize #riize scenarios #riize fluff #riize x reader #anton fluff #anton riize #anton x reader #anton imagines #anton fic #anton fanfic #anton scenarios #riize reactions

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blasphemecel · 3 months

Text

Michael Kaiser — Stench

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 9k TYPE: Angst, Childhood friends, Making up, occasionally funny WARNING(S): Poverty, implied/referenced child abuse, house break-in, spoilers for Kaiser's backstory, if I missed something lmk NOTE(S): This is a two shot but I'm posting it here combined for my own convenience. The numerals show how the chapters are separated and indicates a long time skip.

Someone’s coming closer and closer. It’s hard to catch Kaiser off guard — he’s sensitive to the slightest of sounds, so he can hear them approaching from behind without trouble, these sloppy footsteps slapping against the cement as if the owner is wearing really shitty shoes. He freezes with the ball still in his hands, doesn’t dare look back and check who it is, an irrational part of his brain suspecting it to be his father.

It takes a while for whoever it is to cross the distance, and then an unfamiliar voice rings, “Hey.”

Kaiser glances over his shoulder finally. You stand there, peering down at him while he’s sitting, cigarette spreading fumes in the air even though you don’t look any older than him. He doesn’t say anything to acknowledge you, though, just stares, tense and confused about your intentions.

You crouch down so you are at eye level with him. The bad smell follows, wafting by his nose and he holds down a cough on the off chance any noise might set you off and make you violent. You pull it out of your mouth and flick it away from him, apparently possessing enough decorum to stop blowing smoke in his face. “Why are you always doing that?”

“Huh?”

Kaiser knows what you mean, but he can’t help asking. After all he’d noticed you before all those times just like you’d noticed him. Every day you hang around the solitary playground at a distance while he messes around with the ball, though he never expected you’d speak to him. If anything you never pay much mind to each other.

You usually leave like you’re on some kind of schedule, but you’re up close to him now and he can see you’re in a similar condition to him — bruises and dirt littering your skin, tattered and ill-fitting clothes barely hanging onto your frame. The offenders behind your loud entrance he identifies as the torn pink fuzzy slippers he always sees you wearing, smeared with faded mud. Certainly not the most reliable footwear, but you’re in a better boat than he is on that front, what with him not wearing any shoes at all. Not his fault he outgrew his last pair, although naturally his father found a way to blame him. He’s creative like that.

“You’re always kicking the ball and punching the shit outta it.”

Embarrassed by the reasoning behind his behavior maybe, Kaiser averts his eyes. He hopes not responding will dissuade you from interacting with him.

It doesn’t work. “What’s your name?”

“… Michael.”

“So basic, but fine. I’ll call you Micha, ok?”

“You don’t need to call me anything.”

You offer your name in return. After taking another drag, you smile and ask, “How old are you?”

“Thirteen,” he says, figuring this is unimportant enough information that he can offer it without consequences until you grow bored and go away.

You grin at him and squint your eyes. The expression makes you seem smug for no discernible reason. “I’m fourteen, so I’m your senior. You can call me boss if you want. Got it, small fry?”

What an annoying attitude. He places the ball over his stomach and adjusts his position so he’s hugging his knees, this surly expression on his face. “It’s not even that big of a difference…”

“You sound so pensive when you talk. Hey, why do you kick the ball even though you don’t have shoes? Doesn’t it hurt?”

What else is someone supposed to do with a piece of trash except hurt it? Expressing such a sentiment out loud seems shameful, though. “Why are you smoking even when it’s bad for you and stupid and tacky? Why are you asking dumb questions even though you’re not getting anything out of it?”

You burst out laughing. “Woah, relax. Touchy.” When he doesn’t respond and instead continues scrutinizing you with scorn (which at this point you deem undeserved), you say, “I stole ‘em off someone. What’s stopping you from stealing a pair of shoes?”

“They’re too big to steal. It’s impractical.”

“You think small, but fair enough,” you say, before standing up, still grinning. Then you wave. “I’ve gotta go now. I’ll see you tomorrow, Micha.”

“Who said I want to see you?”

You laugh again as if his rejection is funny, but trudge on away from him. “C’mon, lighten up.”

Kaiser scoffs, pressing his cheek against the ball, tightening his hold against it. There is nothing to lighten up about.

___

Kaiser hasn’t taken any particular liking towards you, but you do hang out together every day since you approached him. He’s not sure why he tolerates your presence. Maybe because you’re resourceful — stealing is so much easier when you two coordinate. Or maybe it’s nice to talk to someone who doesn’t seem to want to strike him down and strangle him.

Currently you’re at the playground again. The lighter you use has some ugly, childish print on it. Kaiser is trying to inflate his ball with the air pump you swiped together from a shop in town earlier after you made fun of how ‘sad and flat’ it was and came up with the idea. When he hears the flicker and then registers the smell, Kaiser asks, “How many do you smoke a day?”

“One is to be stylish. Two is if I didn’t appreciate the first one enough. Three is if I still don’t feel like shitting.”

Kaiser frowns in disapproval at the moronic remark. Funny in an ironic sort of way how this lifestyle has you sounding like a ridiculous, fake adult — neither child nor mature, but something else entirely. A different category of human. He wonders if you think the same about him. “You fucking smell. How many are there in a pack?”

“Twenty,” you say after uselessly flipping over the lid, even though for one it’s not full and you already know the answer anyway, so it’s not necessary to check.

“So if you smoke three a day then you have to… steal one every two weeks?”

You scrunch your eyebrows in confusion at this assessment. “No, that’s not right. It’s like once or twice a week depending.” Then you do some weird counting on your fingers for a while. “But even if it was exactly three a week, that’s like six point six or some shit like that. Dummy.”

“Shut up, shithead,” says Kaiser, embarrassed.

“Ok.”

“Leave me alone. I didn’t think about it too much.”

“I’m not even saying anything.” A moment of silence passes until an enlightened remark comes to mind. “Hey, Micha.”

“What?”

You scoot a little closer to him. Kaiser gets nervous at first and freezes, but calms down when it seems you’re not inching your hands towards him. Though the relief is short-lived because then you take an exaggerated sniff of the air and grin. “You stink too.”

He glares at you.

The ball ends up fine. Sure, it’s still beat up and dirty as most things around him, but at least it’s functional enough to kick again, and that’s what’s important.

___

“What now,” says Kaiser with an attitude of being greatly inconvenienced before plopping down next to you on the sidewalk.

You continue counting, trying to keep track of how much money you have on you. A series of gross, dry coughs escapes your mouth. When the fit near passes, you spit on the ground as if to ease your throat, hitting your chest for good measure. Kaiser watches the display with an impassive look on his face. Eventually you turn towards him and ask, “What’s your problem?”

“I don’t have a problem.”

“Ok.”

“You’ve been quiet, not talking to me.”

“I’m gonna go get a haircut so I’m trying to see if I have enough,” you say, figuring he’s wondering about what you’re doing in a roundabout way.

Kaiser rams his head into his knees and makes some kind of noise which you can’t categorize between acknowledgement and disapproval.

You say, “Those children from the schoolyard were telling me having a bad haircut is ‘social suicide.’ Like ‘getting stabbed’ everyday. Apparently it’s the bowlcut that’s really shameful.”

“Other people have such stupid problems,” he says, irked, resentful. “I just cut it with scissors at home.”

“Yeah, man, I can tell. They wash your hair at the hairdresser though, so I wanna go now.”

“You really hang out with them? What do you even talk about?”

You shrug, pulling out a cigarette and then the hideous lighter. The smoke will waft by his nose again and irritate him. It’s unpleasant. The smell he associates with you is unpleasant, but it’s also yours so it’s kind of conflicting. “Recently I’ve been telling them I’m a ghost from the forest.”

Kaiser remains unamused the way you’ve always known him, but after some contemplation graces you with a snort, which makes you smile in return. He asks, “They don’t believe that. Right?”

“Maybe. They’ve got a what-do-you-call-it… You like football, don’t you?”

“A pitch.” He rolls his eyes as if forgetting the word is some kind of crime. Back he goes to frowning.

“Yea, they have that. You should sneak in with me sometime.” You shrug again as if the suggestion isn’t a big deal. “It’s fun.”

His nose scrunches at the thought, forehead wrinkling. It pisses him off just imagining it — truly a sickening concept. Why would you subject yourself to such a thing? Mingling with children who have nice things and an education and clean clothes and probably eat proper meals every night with their families. He doesn’t want to exchange pleasantries with people who can afford to concern themselves with social suicide. Stomach twisted in knots, Kaiser almost hurls, but somehow swallows the bile back down.

“Never,” he denies with finality.

“So dramatic, Micha.”

“Like you’re any better. You don’t care about anything. At all.”

At the sound of his tone getting more sulky than usual, you decide to spare him another glance. “Aww, are you tearing up?”

“No,” Kaiser lies, lips wavering. Unable to hold it in yet desperate to hide, he settles for covering his face with his hands, folding over himself. “I just fucking… hate this place. And I want out so… so bad.” Aside from the muffled sobs, there are also voice cracks littering his admission.

The thing is: you don’t really know what to do to make it all better.

___

Kaiser feels like he’s about to get a cramp from keeping his leg in this position for so long, lifted up and extended. Recently he stole a pair of sneakers from the thrift store, but the soles ended up falling off. Now you’re lathering everything in glue and wrapping it in tape in an attempt to salvage the situation.

“I’m not sure this is how it works,” he says. It’s kind of meek — a pathetic mumble — but you can recognize unwarranted criticism when you hear it.

“Take it or leave it.” You snap off the tape and move onto the next shoe.

When a snarky or otherwise offensive response doesn’t immediately come to mind, Kaiser resigns to silence. He continues observing you while you squeeze out copious amounts of glue. For a moment the only noises between you are those of your sniffles, the obnoxious huffing in of snot.

A few raindrops pour down, pelting your heads at the same time. You hiss when you realize your hard work is about to go to waste while all Kaiser provides in terms of reaction is a blink and a downwards twist of his lips.

“I don’t wanna go home,” you say, sounding distant, which he doesn’t hear from you much — usually there’s a lilt of amusement in your tone, some kind of playfulness lingering in all your words.

“I don’t either. It’s pointless anyway because you’ll get drenched by the time you go home and then there’s nothing to dry yourself with properly and it’s all one huge pain in the ass.”

“Right.” After signaling your agreement with his assessment, you shrug off your hoodie and stretch, trying to drape it enough so that it shields the two of you from the rain. Kaiser accommodates your goodwill by adjusting his position, scooting over next to you and cramming so he’s taking as little space as possible. It’s not an adequate cover by any means and you can tell his shoes will break apart again. But Kaiser is hugging you around the waist, resting his cheek against your neck, and you don’t have to deal with being at your place yet, so it can’t be all that bad.

___

“You look like a pufferfish,” you say unhelpfully.

Kaiser narrows his eyes at you in that way he tends to do which you haven’t seen anyone else replicate exactly. It’s kind of amusing when he does that, especially when one of them is irritated and droopy. “And you look like a spoiled apple.”

“Don’t mind. It’s a lot of bad things happening to me in that house.”

“I know,” says Kaiser.

You rub your cheek and then some more under your eye where the spots are the brightest. It makes him wince because your hands must be dirty, what with everything you two get up to in a day. Since Kaiser’s father strangles him, he’s always swollen and not so much bruised, but he thinks your parents must only leave it at punches while making up for it with enthusiasm. “I kinda like touching them when some time passes.”

“You’re sick.”

“Honestly I was, but it went away. I think I might have an ingrown toenail though.”

“No… I mean in the head.” To emphasize his point, Kaiser reaches out to probe your temple with his index finger. There’s another scratch blooming there, only coming to attention once his focus lands there, but it’s a waste of energy fixating on any of the small ones — he just can’t help but notice sometimes. “By the way, I don’t need to know what kind of toenail you have.”

You laugh, apparently finding his remark funny somehow. Then you reel your hand back before bringing it back down quickly as if you’re about to slap him. Still retaining his common sense, Kaiser flinches and tries to defend himself with his forearm. The reflex is foreign since he usually takes it lying down without moving an inch when it’s his dad.

His reaction makes you laugh harder for some reason, and you don’t smack him at all. Kaiser glares at you for your unfunny prank but you disregard it. Your hands settle around his throat instead, lightly tracing over the purple fingerprints, still fresh from last night. Almost immediately he clenches his teeth, tightlipped, breaking out into a sweat, expecting a harsh squeeze which never comes.

Kaiser wants to scold you for your idiotic behavior, yet he doesn’t. Maybe your hands aren’t for harm, he decides. And then he reaches out too, pressing his knuckle against the darkest contusion on your face. Your eye twitches closed. It turns into a strange fascination then, your skin touching his and his touching yours in places others had hurt. A ritualistic erasement.

___

You’re splitting the money again after selling off another valuable. It was some kind of fancy watch you two stole this time, more ballsy than usual. Once you pocket your share, you ask, “Are you saving up?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna move? Where?”

Kaiser shrugs. “I don’t care. Anywhere but here.”

You hum and walk ahead of him, probably looking for one of the drinking fountains in the area.

Either compelled by unusual curiosity or bothered by your silence, he says, “You wanna make it the fuck out of here too. Where would you go?”

“To the beach.”

Kaiser rolls his eyes behind your back, finding your answer stupid. Sure, the beach is an exotic idea considering he has never been to one, but all he can imagine is the sand sticking to his skin and the gross seaweed he’s seen in commercials inside stores and such. But on second thought both of these things are probably way less gross than the environment he spends every day in. He lets out a performative huff anyway and says ‘huh’ as if to demand an elaboration.

“I wanna be free like one of those seagulls that fly over the sea. D’you wanna be a seagull with me, Micha?”

“No. That’s dumb,” he says. You ignore him. Kaiser steels his nerves for a second and, after a dry swallow, takes a step so that he’s walking next to you rather than lagging behind. Then he brushes his fingers against yours lightly before making a sweaty, half hearted attempt at holding your hand. His cheeks are warm in a way he hasn’t felt them before. “Take me to your shitty beach someday.”

You make a more competent attempt at hand holding, grasping his fingers in yours until they’re interlacing, and then you swing your arms up and down. Kaiser has enough sense to be embarrassed by this, but doesn’t tell you to stop. He doesn’t know why, but this is the kind of contact he feels the need to savor. “So you do want to be a seagull.”

“Not interested.”

“You’re such a sourpuss, Micha, never playing along with anything.”

“It’s not my fault you make it sound dumb- Well, do you think it’s any use? Hoping for something like that…”

“Don’t tell me you’re giving up.”

“I won’t give up,” he says. “I just don’t know if it’ll work.”

“Come on. We’re gonna get out of here together someday. That’s gotta work.” You lift his arm in the air next and try to make him spin like a dancer. Though Kaiser is used to standing still and limp and letting things happen to him, the attempt doesn’t come out successful. At most he does a slight twist.

“Yeah. Together,” he agrees, like a promise. He imagines messing around with you in the sand with the sun warming his skin in contrast to the perpetual chill he’s become used to. Honestly despite belittling the idea earlier, it doesn’t seem so bad in his mind.

___

Kaiser yawns while sitting next to you on a bench, eating a burger. Since you’re famous for your generosity and kindness and all (not), you decided to ‘splurge out’ by buying food for you both from some shitty hole in the wall. It’s the most filling meal you’ve had in a while. You’re still chewing when you ask, “Are you tired or something?”

He rubs his eyes. “My father was fucking making noises throwing up all night.”

“Ah, your worthless sperm donor.” You nod sagely in acknowledgement.

“Yea, him. It reeked too and when I went to clean it, there were whole chunks in his vomit.”

You scoff. “Don’t clean after him.”

“Not like anyone’s going to clean it if I don’t.” Two more yawns accentuate his sentence. You reach out to throw away the container. For a second you consider keeping the plastic cutlery and maybe washing it at the drinking fountain later, but that seems too desperate even for you. Kaiser says, “I’d take a nap right now if I could, but I don’t want to go back yet.”

“It’s sunny today for the first time in a while. Would be a waste.” You watch Kaiser while he wipes his mouth and his fingers with the napkin. The dark circles around his eyes are worse than usual. “You can lie down on me and sleep if you want.”

“Huh? Really?”

“Yea, it’ll probably be really boring, but I’ll tolerate it,” you allow, ever so charitable.

Kaiser frowns, contemplating. He’s silent for so long, you forget you even suggested anything, but he eventually shifts around and rests his head on your lap, tense. You rake your fingers through his hair. “Don’t smoke,” he warns, but it’s kind of difficult to act butthurt when you’re being so… gentle with him.

“I won’t.”

“Seriously, don’t smoke right now.”

“I said ok already.”

Now that the matter is settled, he decides to trust you and flutters his eyes closed. Though your thighs and the bench aren’t the most comfortable places in the world, to Kaiser who only knows the cold hard floor, such an opportunity is borderline luxurious. The tang of the cigarettes clings even to the fabric of your pants, to your fingers — his favorite smell. You continue stroking his scalp and he dozes off with ease within minutes. Even though he’s snoring already, he moves to wrap his arms around your knee as if he feels a compulsive need to hold onto something in his sleep.

Kaiser looks surprisingly peaceful and precious right now. You hope he’s having a nice dream if any. A long stretch of ennui is ahead of you.

___

The antics have been ramping up as of late. In your defense, you weren’t sure how you were supposed to resist urging Kaiser to break in with you when you noticed the house with the open first floor window, clearly vacant. Though at first he displayed kleptomaniacal tendencies and wanted to rummage through the drawers for anything expensive, you deemed it too risky since you had no idea when the owner would come back. And then you told him you were merely interested in taking a proper shower.

Now you’re almost dry, waiting for Kaiser to finish. You can’t remember the last time you were so free of grime. Wearing the old clothes again almost feels shameful, like a step back. You sniff your armpit like a weirdo and realize your skin smells good .

Kaiser takes a while to come out and emerges looking like he underwent some kind of magical girl transformation. He’s trying to soak up the water from his hair with a towel, sending specks flying everywhere and dripping down his shirt when you blurt out, “You’re handsome.”

In a fashion you’d consider comedic, he stops dead in his tracks to gape at you with flushed cheeks. “What?”

“Your face is pretty.” He blinks. A crease appears on his forehead in apparent disapproval, though you’re not sure what he’s mad about (it’s a compliment!), especially when he’s still blushing. You make a vague hand gesture near your head to clarify your next point, “Try untangling it with your fingers.”

It takes Kaiser a good few seconds to get with the program before he twitches to attempt and follow your advice, but you both freeze when you detect the unmistakable sound of a door closing and locking downstairs. You push him back into the bathroom and close it behind yourself as gently as possible. Then you drag him back to the tub and gesticulate incomprehensibly some more to signal you should both get in and hide before sliding in behind the curtain and reclining on your side. Kaiser follows after you, but you think you might be doomed. It’s still wet, too, which is unpleasant, but not a priority considering the upcoming disaster.

Kaiser opens his mouth to speak, so you clamp it shut with your palm before putting your index finger over your lips. He embraces you, and he’s trembling, and then he hides in your neck as if you’re going to save him from whatever is about to come.

Like you’d assumed, the house owner enters almost immediately. You’re nauseous, stomach clenching. Kaiser is making a stunning impression of a corpse the way he’s not even breathing anymore in his attempt at being quiet. Your muscles are so tense on alert that it hurts and each passing second puts you more on edge.

Thankfully the flush comes and then the running water and then the person leaves with a click. Their footsteps get fainter and fainter until another door opens and closes. You stand and step out, trying not to make a noise still. Before going out into the hallway you throw a glance over your shoulder just to make sure Kaiser is still walking behind you, which he is.

Your movements are slow and light. The escape, especially while making your way down the stairs, is drawn out and excruciating. You hop out through the window you came in from. There you are outside, somehow without incident.

You turn to look at Kaiser again once you hear the rustle of the grass accompanying his jump. With the adrenaline still kicking, you break out into a sprint, eager to get far away. Kaiser catches up to you and you burst out laughing but you’re not even sure why, since you don’t find any of what transpired particularly amusing. A slight smile appears on his face when he recognizes the sound.

___

The next day you notice Kaiser isn’t at the playground, even though he always gets there before you do. No biggie — you can exert some patience.

After a while you start tapping your foot. It’s not like you have a watch to check what the time is or how long it’s been or a phone to ask him where he’s at. So you settle on putting on a show of irritability.

Nothing. Your legs hurt so you go sit down on the swing. You’re getting pretty old for the playground anyway, you think as you pull out a cigarette and light it, eyes darting around. Parents and their children, but no sign of Micha.

You exceed your usual three and end up burning half the pack in your attempt to occupy yourself during your waiting. It relaxes you usually, smoking, when you have a lot of shit juggling around your brain, but it doesn’t work this time.

Did something happen?

… Did his dad finally kill him?

___

Kaiser doesn’t show up at the playground ever again no matter how many times you go.

___

It’s another day where you need to shield your eyes from the sunlight with your hand. You’ve been seeing more of those since you ran away. Must be allegorical or some shit.

From your peripheral vision, while you walk down the street, you pass by a store that has one of those TVs on display, playing a sports game. You spare a moment to look, intrigued, nostalgic in a way — it reminds you of when you were little, when that kind of thing was more common.

They’re playing football, you realize, and you find that evocative too. Some guy scores a goal and they zoom in on him even though he’s not celebrating, instead choosing to stand there like a statue with his arms crossed. Like he’s too cool to get excited, which strikes you as obnoxious.

Then they show his face in full, up front.

You know that face. You’d recognize that face anywhere.

The back of his jersey reads ‘Kaiser’ and yet you never knew him as anything besides his first name.

At first you’re relieved considering you were under the impression catastrophe must’ve befallen him, but the solace doesn’t last long. When the realization hits, your eyes widen and your lips fall into a thin line. It's similar to a punch in the gut how all the air seems to vacate your chest. All this wind around you and you can’t get any.

The only person you ever loved left you behind without a second glance in your direction.

___

II.

Michael Kaiser is mildly inconvenienced. Billions injured on the scene and millions more will die.

So maybe he’s been ranting at someone who he didn’t even glance at, eyes closed, mind way too lost in his reverie. A part of his brain doesn’t even comprehend he’s in fact speaking to a person instead of a cardboard cutout. It’s to his complete shock and bafflement when after so much babbling he receives a reply. “Hey, Mr. Kaiser was it? Shut the fuck up.”

He flutters his eyes open to give the ingrate a glare and speak his mind some more, but he freezes on the spot at the sight in front of him. His blood runs cold, heart stuttering in his chest.

He’d know that face anywhere, even if right now it’s more unamused and neutral — nothing like the expressions in his memories. He’s not sure why his body is reacting like this either, tensing up with a nervous jitter in his system.

Wasn’t he supposed to have left all that stuff in the past? Yet a single look at you is enough to cause this response: this uncertainty, like he’s still a little boy who veers towards hopeless and incompetent, and fuck, why are you giving him such a dead stare?

Do you not recognize him?

Do you not love him anymore?

It’s a rash thing to focus on as his immediate concern especially when he hasn’t been killing himself with worry over you or anything during your years apart, but right now when you’re in front of him it’s all he wants to know. Which is cruel and selfish in a way, in his specific Kaiser-ish way, how he’s first preoccupied with himself before he wonders about your state of mind or living situation. A need to bait for a sign you still care about him torments him even if it might be drastic right off the bat.

When no ingenious idea for such a thing comes to mind and Kaiser realizes he’s been staring at you like a moron, he says, “Don’t call me Mr. Kaiser. It makes me sound old and decrepit.” And that isn’t what you of all people should be referring to him as.

You continue assessing him in a manner which can be described as judgmental at best. “Isn’t that what you said your name is during your little monologue?”

“You already know what my name is.” The awkward silence which follows is almost unbearable. Kaiser scratches himself on the neck even though he’s not itchy just to pass the time. Finally he snaps, “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

“Sorry to break it to you, sir, but most employees anywhere aren’t happy to listen to ten minute long demented tirades about non-problems.”

“Well maybe I overreacted a little,” concedes Kaiser and gives you what he thinks is a suave smile in an attempt at downplaying how uneasy he is. He thinks you can feel it. He thinks you’re doing it on purpose, hurting him with intention. “Are you seriously going to act like you don’t know me?”

Your pitiless gaze sticks to him like glue even when you take out the ice cubes and throw a generous amount into his drink before sticking a paper parasol in it with lots of spite, which is what the big stink he threw a tantrum over was all about. Kaiser wants to tell you that you’re very hot when you’re no longer a starving punching bag, but thinks better of it. Doesn’t seem charming even coming from him.

“There.” You slide the cup across the counter towards him. “I fixed your shitty smoothie.”

“It’s not a smoothie!”

“A mocktail is basically juice.”

Wrapping his fingers around it, Kaiser doesn’t leave. Instead he chooses to stay and observe you in silence, jaw clenching.

“You can go.”

“I’m not going until you admit you know who I am.”

“What, are you famous or something?” you ask, bemused.

Kaiser is on the cusp of hypertension because you’re doing it on purpose and you’re not even doing it well because you want him perfectly aware of what you’re up to. You’ve never done this — hurt him before, let alone by design — so Kaiser almost assumed you were incapable of it. Though it makes sense that you are. After all, you’re the same type of inhuman he is, and he’s done this if not worse hundreds of times, and even reveled in it. Yet the realization you’re not what he remembers of you stirs disillusionment within him. The nature of it, he doesn’t quite grasp.

Kaiser contemplates causing a scene more than he already has, but he’s not sure how to do so while still getting what he wants. Trying to joke even though above all he wants to throw a tantrum, he whines, “You’re so immature.”

“I’m sorry that my reaction to getting threatened with a lawsuit over ice cubes was immature, Mr. Kaiser.”

“That’s not what I’m talking about!”

Your exterior remains listless and vacant, and Kaiser wants to scream the longer you scrutinize him in this manner. Eventually you spin your finger near your temple as if to call him delusional, then move onto taking the order of someone else.

His eyes narrow until you’re so blurry he can barely see you, perhaps either to censor you from his sight or because a milder expression wouldn’t suffice in communicating his disdain. With a final grit of his teeth and maybe a visible vein on his forehead, Kaiser stands up to leave. Fine. You win this one, but it’s war now.

The scorch of the sand under his feet startles him. He kind of forgot how hot it was, what with getting so distracted. Another comeuppance on a list of many. Today is punishment.

Dramatic inner soliloquy aside, Kaiser makes it back to the beach bed quickly, still reeling over that interaction. You’re here? You’re here, in front of him again, and apparently you’re not too happy to see him.

In the most disinterested tone he can muster, Sae asks, “Did they fix your smoothie?”

“It’s not a fucking smoothie!” With the grace of a lobotomized koala, Kaiser drops it over the small table separating them and barely resists the urge to hurl it at Sae. This would do wonders for his mental health short term, but again he’s trying to feign decorum.

With his trademark deadpan, Sae pretends none of that just happened. Kaiser turns around to look back at the hotel bar where you’re gesticulating at your coworker. Both of you seem immensely annoyed, wild and animated while you converse.

“Fuck, they’re totally complaining about me.”

Sae follows the line of direction through which Kaiser is stalking you. After a few seconds of analysis, he says, “Those are definitely the ‘this shit stain just threatened to sue me,’ ‘wow, really, what the hell’ faces.”

Kaiser snaps his head to look at him with genuine surprise. “What- How’d you know?”

“... You’re so embarrassing, it’s predictable.”

“And you’re annoying,” he says. “I’ll tell Coach to get rid of you and airdrop me Ness.”

“It’s cute that you think the coach cares about your opinion on me enough to replace me. The same as thinking the strippers at the club like you, in a way.”

There is a while of silence where Kaiser’s just snarling while Sae seems like he couldn’t give less of a shit. Then he adds his finisher,

“Or I guess in your case it’s like thinking the bartender actually cares about your order.”

Oh, fuck this vacation.

___

The heat is unbearable.

You step out into the sun and saunter up the wooden path to take your break away from the beach. Sweat has been exuding from your skin for the last few hours. Even so when you make it to the sidewalk, you keep your eyes trained on the scenery as you trudge on to your destination. The sand, the sea, the plants — some natural and some artificial.

Before long your legs take you to your usual street vendor, where you’ll order a shitty pancake that won’t do much to nourish you, but it’ll be so sweet that you’ll be too nauseous to get hungry for a while. The queue isn’t unbearable.

Not until you sense someone hovering behind you, followed up by a hand settling on your shoulder. You turn around to grace the offender with a disgusted side glance, but you’re so baffled to see Kaiser there, you just… freeze.

He’s sneering at you. In fact he looks so happy with himself, you want to vomit. Preferably on him.

“What a coincidence,” he says without even a sliver of shame.

You roll your eyes and face front again, deciding it’s in your best interest to feign ignorance to his existence. Taking this as a sign to elevate the antics to a more obnoxious level, Kaiser resigns himself to the role of one of those domesticated leeches, hanging off you now, fully wrapping his arm around your shoulders. His gaze is burning into your side profile to the point it’s unnerving and you can feel the artificial smugness emanating from his form.

“I thought we were done talking yesterday.”

“Really? You did? How naive,” he coos at you mockingly.

It is convenient that during this time of need — when you’re lacking a good comeback — your time to order comes up. You talk to the guy working about your aforementioned shitty pancake. The moment you shut your mouth, however, Kaiser starts listing off things you’re not even keeping track of like you’re hanging out together or something.

With a mild dispute over whether it’s ‘backwards’ that they do not accept payment through a card, which makes you want to die because you’re a regular here and now the employee who knows you by face will associate you with this pest, Kaiser pays for your thing, too. On the one hand you’re prideful, but on the other you’ve lived the life of a bottomfeeder who takes every scrap they’re given without question, and it’s the kind of conditioning you can’t let go of. So you allow it.

He ends up with an inordinate amount of food in his hands, too much for one person to eat. You’re still doing your ignoring shtick even when Kaiser pulls you down to sit next to him on the table. Content with pretending he doesn’t exist as he is dead to you, you bite onto your food in relative peace, mind drifting somewhere else. Until he speaks that is. “This must be our fateful meeting.”

“I don’t see what’s so fateful about it if you followed me?”

Unbeknownst to you, Kaiser too is adept at the ‘hearing only what he wants to hear’ game. So he moves on with the conversation without any indicator of comprehending what you just said. “I think it’s quite ironic, actually.”

“What are you on about now?”

“You told me you want to go to the beach once. And where do I find you? On the beach. It's an astral influence, I’m sure.”

“Ah? I don’t remember telling you that.”

You’re blinking at him in mild confusion. This hurts Kaiser a hundred times more than when you were deliberately going out of your way to act dismissive of him because he can tell you mean it. To think one of the moments he clung onto the most had slipped your mind.

His eyes are wide and his lips stand still in a thin line, so he forces himself to smirk again and glosses over the information which just shattered him. “So you admit you know me then?”

“No, Mr. Kaiser, I have no idea who you are. I’m thinking you should admit yourself to a hospital. They say false memories are an important symptom in psychopathology.”

“Very funny. I prefer Micha or at least Michael, though.”

“Do I give a fuck?”

He scowls at you. “Yes.”

You finish off your pancake and wipe your hands with the napkin in mild disgust. Kaiser laughs at the wrinkle of your face while you do so, and then he scoots an inch closer.

“Help me finish it all off.” He gestures at all the paper plates.

Pinching between your fingers, you tug the first thing that seems appetizing closer to your side of the table. Kaiser scoops up some of the portion for himself and dumps it in another meal. You ask, “Why are you trying to suck up to me?”

“Aw, is it so wrong to want to treat my closest friend?”

You scoff. The movement of your eyelids fascinates Kaiser — you never really showed any annoyance towards him before, so he finds these expressions of distaste fascinating even if they make him sick. “We haven’t seen each other in four years, so if I’m still your closest friend somehow, that’s just sad. Be for real if you’re gonna be anything.”

“You’re being so difficult! What did I even do?!” To be honest, he’s lying and his gaze isn’t even shying away from you while he’s lying, not even a twitch. He knows you, so he knows that you’re mad he couldn’t be assed to tell you where he went even though he obviously could. He thinks playing dumb might be more in his favor here, though, so he’ll do that. “I don’t even like going to the fucking beach. I’ve been going every year to different places searching for you.”

The unbridled perturbation on your face upon hearing this is quite amusing. Priceless even. You were calling him crazy merely for the sake of fucking with him, and perhaps it was your earnest attempt at gaslighting him but you’re not about to admit it. Right now, though, you think he is genuinely insane.

“You’re saying that to appease me,” you accuse, hoping you’re correct, but also not. The idea he might’ve thought about you like you did about him while you were separated enthralls you, though you can’t let him win you over his bullshit.

“Maybe,” says Kaiser, trying to be mysterious.

Since he obviously wants you to ask him for an elaboration, you deny him the satisfaction.

“How much do you make working at that shitty bar?”

“Enough.”

“I should take you back to Spain with me,” Kaiser decides. With too much confidence at that. “You’d have anything you could ever want.”

It is not like it was before. He’s not acting the way he used to. You suppose you aren’t either. But anyway, you thought it inconceivable that he would ever joke — is he joking? — or make the absurd statements he’s been making. It’s natural, in a way, since you’re also not of the same temperament as before.

With a huff, you say, “You’ll never be my sugar daddy, Kaiser.”

“You’re no fun nowadays.” There’s an amused lilt in his tone while he sneers — you think the way he smiles is fake. You recall he was kind of quiet and awkward and stilted, unnatural at first maybe because he was out of practice in communicating with others, but now he speaks with insincere charisma, like a showman. Yet still the things he says so casually are off-kilter, ruining whatever illusion he’s attempting to sell. “And I said to call me Micha.”

“I don’t need to call you anything.”

It’s all about the metamorphosis. It’s about becoming each other so you’re never truly apart.

___

You’re crouching under one of the tropical trees overlooking the road by the wooden path leading down the beach. The shade is insufficient and the heels of your feet are digging into your ass to the point it hurts. Before your break, the thought of smoking a cigarette had entered your brain so you obeyed it as it was too pervasive even though you don’t enjoy lighting up anything during such weather, believe it or not.

Your eyes are glossy since you’re spacing out, taking puffs. When two silhouettes come to a halt right in front you, only then does the absentminded trance end.

Kaiser waves at you with unnecessary enthusiasm which is just for show. They’re late, arriving way past their usual time. Earlier when he and his companion didn’t show when you expected them to, you assumed maybe their vacation ended and they’d headed home.

The other guy is sullen, but at least his eye lashes are long, which must count for something. After sparing you a glance, he turns towards Kaiser and says judgmentally, “You’re still harassing staff.”

“I’m not har-”

Not giving a shit, the other guy straight up leaves, not bothering to participate in the discussion on a topic he brought up. You watch in mild bafflement as he walks off without a care.

“Ignore him,” Kaiser says. A plastic smile overtakes his face before he squats down next to you, butting into your body with his and almost toppling you over. This is probably bad for his knees, and you’re half exposed to the sun now. Somehow he has created several problems where there were none. “You still smoke.”

You don’t reply, but maintain the common decency not to blow any in his face. He should stay away from you. Isn’t he an athlete? Shouldn’t he be cautious about secondhand smoke? You consider putting it out altogether, then, so you stub it in the almost empty can of the fizzy drink you’d been drinking earlier.

“What kind of lighter do you have now? Has your taste gotten any better?”

No response again. He places an arm around your waist. Through touching you so often it’s like he’s trying to hammer it into your head that you were close, and yet intangible things seem to evade Kaiser, so maybe he’s struggling to conceive of any other way to reestablish your connection.

“You still smell the same. Like nicotine.”

“Well, you smell the way you used to, too.”

The space between his brows wrinkles and his nose twitches in irritation at your words. “The fuck do you mean? No, I don’t.”

“Let me spell it out for you in a way we both understand.” For the first time since your strange reunion, you reciprocate the physicality and pull him in by the shoulder till you’re forehead to forehead so you can look him in the eyes while explaining. “When I saw you a few days ago for the first time in so long, it was like you basically still had a sign that says ‘broke ass bum.’”

He gapes at you with incredulity, this offended expression on his face.

“I mean,” you say, snickering in bewilderment at the absurdity of his previous actions, “you were gonna sue me over some ice cubes, really? Acting like a spoiled little prince to disguise where you crawled out from? I think you and I have got the kinda stench not even all the Dior in Avenue Montaigne can wipe off.”

His fingers would’ve dug hard into your flesh if your shirt wasn’t in the way with how his grip tightens in response. The grit of his teeth exposes more of them. Strangely, you think he has nice gums. “Why the fuck are you being like this?”

“‘Cause you were content to forget all about me, but you don’t want me to be angry at you either. You should’ve just been polite and pretended you didn’t recognize me. But no, you want it all. I hate people like you who make no sense.”

“You’re just jealous,” Kaiser accuses, trying the snobby angle. If he’s pretentious then he’s not hurt by you claiming you despise him. At least that’s what he settles on.

“Sure. That could be true as well.” You stand up and take the can with you to throw away.

Kaiser plops down on the sand, tired of squatting, and doesn’t bother watching you plod back to the bar but the sound of your footsteps rings heavy in his ears until it dissipates. He hugs his knees like the wet wipe he is at heart.

The kindest person he’d known was a scammer and a liar and a thief and who knows what else. It hurts like nothing else to bear the weight of your desertion.

This must be cellular rejection. You should’ve been ecstatic to see him on account of your shared inhumanity. Does it not matter to you anymore, the fact that you and Kaiser are the same?

… Right; you’re not the ball. When he hits you, you can hit him back.

___

The beach is desolate and eerie at night. Kaiser came out to brood, which was fine because Sae didn’t care to ask him where he was going when he left the room. Unlike during the day, the sand is cool under his feet now — what an obtuse observation to make, all things considered. He’s annoyed and frustrated at himself as usual when things don’t go his way.

There’s a light illuminating someone’s face where they recline on one of the lounge chairs. It’s blue, meaning the source is a phone. Kaiser startles because he assumed he was alone.

And you startle when you see him staring at you in the dark, but instead of screaming all you do is let out an unconvincing gasp and turn on the backlight to reveal him. Kaiser covers his eyes with his forearms and turns away, letting out some vampiric kind of noise.

Then you frown and go back to tapping away on your shitty mobile game. “You’re such a creep honestly,” you say in distaste.

Once he gets over the assault you just committed on his admittedly sensitive eyes, Kaiser sits down next to you uninvited.

“It’s a coincidence,” he snaps. “I don’t want to be around you either. You’re so fucking exhausting. Can’t talk to you like a normal person at all because of your stupid grudge.”

“Then why are you still trying?”

Of course, there are many answers to that question. Some including but not limited to I think I can still love you like before and I miss you and I regret not sending you that postcard and I hate how you’re mad at me, but I can’t seem to get it right. Though such pathetic things aren’t in Kaiser’s nature to spew, so they never make it past his throat. The words constrict around his neck like a noose.

Instead of answering, he says, “You’ve got a phone now. You should give me your number.”

“No.”

“You’re just trying to make my life difficult for no reason!”

You give him another one of your blank stares. In the dullness of the night, obviously the gesture stays meaningless, though Kaiser can sense the bemusement in your silence at least.

Seeing that ignoring the problem at large isn’t turning out to be the winning move, Kaiser sighs and tries to think of what to say. There’s probably some kind of trick to this, some way he could fool you into overlooking his transgressions. Though when you were friends, he never did that to you, and you never left him then. Maybe it’s not necessary. In this situation, it’s proving to even be detrimental.

Kaiser picks at the skin on his neck. It’s to his benefit you can’t see each other well — he’s not sure he’d be able to spit it out without the detachment of the environment. “Listen, I’m not good at this shit, but… If I have to be honest, I was really paranoid. I didn’t want to think about the past and I didn’t want to get dragged back into it, so I was too scared to even write you a letter to tell you I’m fine. But stumbling on you again, it’s probably fucking stupid but I don’t want to lose track of you anymore. It’s lonely.”

“I wasted a year of my life thinking you were dead,” you say.

“I’m sorry.”

“Tomorrow’s my free day.”

There’s an uncertain excitement in Kaiser now, as if you might be yanking his chain and he doesn’t want to commit to the feeling right away. “Sure, I’m leaving after tomorrow, so that works. Meet me here and we can catch up.”

“I see this shitty beach enough as it is,” you say.

“Yeah, but not the way you’re supposed to.”

You shrug.

Without prompting or any indication that you care, Kaiser says, “I have a horrible sunburn.” He will always find something to bitch about. It’s like he’s never satisfied.

After a few swipes, you unlock your phone and pass it to him so he can add his contact information. “Then use aloe vera or something. What are you, stupid?”

“I don’t have any,” justifies Kaiser, inputting the digits. His tone is defensive because this is the first he’s heard of it, but it’s not like he’ll admit that.

Your forgiveness is fake, in a way. It’d been a grudge you held for a while and a betrayal you wouldn’t tolerate from anyone else. Maybe you’ll hold it over his head if he displeases you. So it’s not real forgiveness, is it, more so a lenience, a testament to your past, that your love for him somehow prevails over your need to enact the lex talionis.

___

The sand sinks under your weight with each step you take, waves lapping over the shoreline, seagulls and children squealing in the background. Sunset makes everything easier on the eyes and the heat is finally settling down since it’s getting late into the afternoon.

You had a nice time catching up with Kaiser in another part of the city, although he displayed a susceptibility to tourist traps. He gloated a lot, and you pretended you didn’t know about half of it from reading his Wikipedia page that one time when you were fostering your hate boner for him. You told him about how you ran away and ended up in another country and about how you’re still on the missing persons site.

Now you’re going back by the seaside instead of through the streets. You walk side by side, your ankles touching the water. Kaiser’s grin is wide, which makes him seem smug, but this time it doesn’t strike you as forced so maybe he is simply carefree. It’s an unusual sight for you — Kaiser, genuinely smiling.

“I think I’ll come see you again when it’s off season. Or maybe we can arrange for you to come visit me instead. I’ve got all sorts of things I want to show you,” he says. He never really had anything to give you before, and now he takes pride in having the means to do so, regardless of whether you’re interested or impressed.

“Whatever, Micha. You’re so full of it. I bet it’ll be lame or you’ll forget you promised.”

He remains pleased despite the teasing, even happier if possible. “It’s fine if you say pointless shit like that, I don’t mind a challenge. All I have to do is prove you wrong.”

___

Lol at the end of finishing this I teared up in Frustration because I couldn't write this the way I envisioned it and then I couldn't save it through editing either (<- guy who's defiinitely normal and casual ) and I kinda just wanted to be done with it so I'm not gonna hold it hostage any longer either. Idk I'm just mad and depressed about it rn i guess. Thank U all for tapping in

#blue lock x reader #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #michael kaiser x you

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igotanidea · 7 days

Text

Not your fucking bussiness: Jason Todd x reader (club singer AU!)

***

„Where are you going?”

„Not your fucking business.”

„Oh! You are going to see her again, aren’t you?”

“Who?”

“Come on, Jay, don’t play dumb with me. You are going to see her!”

“And like I said it’s not your fucking business. Mind your own, Harper.”

This discussion was way beyond his level, therefore Jason just grabbed his jacket off the hanger and walked out the door.

“He is so going to go see her.” Roy crossed his arms, watching his friend leaving with a knowing smirk, nodding his head.

His little Jaybird was growing up so fast…

Two months earlier

They were tired beyond anything ever experienced before. Tired, stressed, barely walking more like dragging their feet on the ground, wanting nothing more but a shower and a bed. But – there’s always this kid in class who will ask the teacher for homework just before the end of the lesson. Or – in this case – the one Outlaw member who comes up with the idea of unwinding in the bar.

“Come on, let’s grab some drinks, it’s been ages since we got wasted.” Roy insisted, clearly not bothered by the frowns and groans of the rest of the group.

“There’s a reason for that, Roy.” Artemis sighed, rubbing her temples “we’re too busy to-“

“We’re so busy we’re actually becoming boring.” Harper cut her off almost brutally.

“Hey! Who are you calling boring?!” The Amazon took a few steps towards the man with a fierce expression.

“When was the last time you looked in the mirror, Arti?”

“When I;m done with you I’ll—“

“Ok, okay, enough!” Kori stepped in between the two fighting friends before things escalated further “we’ve all had enough, there’s no need to add to it.”

“He’s such a jerk though!” Artemis hissed

“Yeah, sure. He and Jason both.”

“Hey!” This time Jason felt the need to intervene and object to the allegation.

“The only guy who’s actually nice in this group is Bizzaro-“ Kori continued, completely unbothered by Jason’s exclamation.

“I’m bad.” Bizzaro grinned, clearly satisfied by the words coming from the Tamaranian.

“Yes, yes you are, big guy. So. I don’t know about you, Artemis, but I’d actually like to have a little bit of fun for a change. I think we deserve it.”

“I’m not going anywhere!” Jason exclaimed, clenching his fists. Seriously? Were those guys functioning in the same reality as him?! Gotham was in constant danger, crime lords and criminals lurking in every corner and the Outlaws just decided to grab a drink and unwind?! The hell happened to his team?! They had so much on their heads and now – for some crazy reason – it felt like everyone was agreeing with everyone leaving his opinion as a leader of the team on the sideline.

And he did not like it.

“We are not going anywhere.” He hissed as if that was going to stop anyone.

“we are.” Roy grinned and Jason could sense the mischief in his eyes.

“we are—fuck! Put me down!”

Anyone who dared to look outside their window on that night would have been shocked to notice the infamous Outlaws casually walking the Gotham street with a very angered Red Hood being carried in the iron grip of Bizzarro, kicking and screaming like a five year old kid, very unhappy about such humiliation.

***

Obviously they could not just walk into the bar, dressed like their vigilantes self so the first stop was the nearest safe house, dealing with the quickest ever outfit change, patching up the most serious cuts and bruises. Only after dealing with all that, not even caring about looking presentable, the group walked down to finally grab the drink.

A plan that seemed to drag on forever.

Deep inside, Jason was hoping for a quiet night, praying that at this crazy night hour there wouldn’t be many people in that 24/7 club and he would be able to just snug in the dark corner sipping his drink and checking the surroundings for the possible threats.

And for once it seemed like his prayers were listened to.

As they entered the deserted place, eyes of the already drunk regulars landed on them, but one warning look from Jason made them stop wanting to cause any trouble.

“Oh!” Roy gasped, a little disappointed. “I was hoping that she would be here.”

“She?” Jason frowned

“You mean Y/N?” Kori smiled, “I think it’s past her shift.”

“It’s a shame though.” Artemis added “it’s been too long since we saw her-“

“We?” the frown on Jason’s face deepened. Suddenly he felt terribly left out. Who was this Y/N his friend was so clearly enamored with? And why did it feel like they were coming to see her without him?

As if adding fuel to the fire of his thoughts Bizzaro nodded.

“We no see her often.”

“Oh, right…” It seemed like his friends were leaving him behind and it hurt, but Jason would never admit it out loud, quickly covering his fears with a signature smirk and sarcastic attitude “Guess you’ll have to survive without whoever this girl is. I’ll go grab drinks, regular for you, folks?”

***

He already had enough, heading to the bar and ordering himself a beer, wondering if it would be rude to just take an Irish exit. His group, his friends just dispersed in the facility and to be honest, Jason has never felt more lonely. Sometimes it felt like this family he made for himself was just waiting for the moment to move on with their lives and leave him alone again. And the more he sipped his beverage, the more he worried that things would go back to the way they were. That he’d fall behind those people, who clearly had a way of finding their place in the society. Maybe they were only waiting for an opportunity to lose him.

And ironically, that thought made him want to hold on to his friends even tighter. Preventing him from leaving the club.

Jason shifted on his seat, turning towards the both his friends were occupying, his eyes scanning the place. The Outlaws might have shed the skin of the vigilantes turning into the normal humans, losing their usual vigilance, but he was not going to. If no one else, he was going to make sure those people he held dear (though if anyone asked, there would be very explicit denial and a fair amount of mean jokes on that) were safe.

For a time being, everything seemed secure, but it was Gotham after all. Things could change in a blink of an eye.

And Jason Todd was not known for letting his guard down easily.

Never.

He was always on the watch, careful, a little stand-offish.

And clearly he was right cause all of a sudden he heard the commotion coming from the side of the little club scene. His ears perked at the sound of man’s and woman’s voices, quickly catching up on the fact that he was trying to convince her to do something and she was objecting, though he could not figure out what they were talking about.

“Come on, Y/N- just this once. Just one more-“

“No way! I think I’ve had enough for one night!”

“Please… for me?”

“You want me to get a sore throat? I think I’ve already been taking in more than I can.”

Oh wow.

Jason blushed a little, wondering if maybe that was the time to stop listening to the conversation.

“Please, Y/N, come on… there are still people here and they’d love a performance…”

Okay.

Now was clearly the time to stop listening to the conversation.

And possibly to leave the place, cause it seemed like his friends just dragged him into a den that was way beyond his comfort zone.

He sighed deeply and joined his friends in the booth ready to force some reason in their heads.

“Okay, people listen up, as a leader of this team-“ he started, meeting with facial expressions ranging from amusement (Artemis) through disbelief (Bizarro) and leniency (Kori) to the open mockery (Roy).

“Not tonight, Jason.”

“Okay, you know what, by all means you stay and have fun but I’m leaving and—” he started again, hoping that his so-called friends would ask him to stay and fight a little.

“Hey, is that Y/N?” Instead, everyone’s heads snapped to the direction of the stage and then a bright smile showed on their faces as they clearly noticed a girl who was far more entertaining than Jason at the moment.

“Y/N! Hi!” Kori waved her hand at the girl “would you give us one?”

For the first time in a long, long time, Jason felt defeated, slumping onto the seat, sipping his drink, not even caring to look into the direction of the stage. He didn’t care.

“Hey Jaybird, look up or you might miss something nice to your sore eyes.”

Huh.

The hell?

Oh…

Oh shit…

Why was his heart picking up the pace and beating out of his chest?

“Yep, that’s her. And you’re blushing.” Roy chuckled and sipped his drink.

To be completely honest, Jason did not even hear whatever words were coming out of Roy's mouth. She stole all his attention. Making his mind go blank and his ear deaf and his eyes focused only on her. But even in his hazy state he managed to connect the dots, figuring out that the girl he overheard talking was the one his friends were referring to. So maybe they knew her? Was there any chance that they could acquaint him with her? But—this was the girl talking about taking things in and sore throat so what exactly was her job here? Was she a-

No.

No, no, no.

She looked so beautiful, innocent and sympathetic. Alluring but not in the way that would cause any suspicions about her profession. Not that the profession itself was something bad, but this was definitely not Y/N.

Shit, he was blushing hard and knew it, cause the heat he felt was enough of an indication.

“Jason?”

“Hey, Todd, come back to earth.”

“I think he just short circuited!”

The mocking and teasing voices of his friends finally reached his ears, shaking him off his reverie.

“Oh, shut up…” he muttered, trying to control his pounding heart and shaking hands.

“You know I’ve never really seen you like that. Ever.”

“Shut up, Harper.”

“Nah, I don’t think I will. The fact that you are being so affected makes it all even funnier.”

“Come on, Roy. Give poor Jason a break.” Kori laughed. “Our fella here seems to be falling and he hasn't even heard her sing yet.”

“Sing?” Jason raised his head, trying to process the new information and fit it into the puzzle.

“Yeah, sing. She’s a singer here. Wait – what did you think she was doing?”

“Nothing…” he hissed, looking down, not liking the fact he was the source of entertainment and a subject of jokes of his friends.

“Me don’t have an idea” Bizzaro smiled brightly and stood up from behind the table, almost knocking all the drinks down. “Me not going to ask her to sing.”

Before anyone could stop him (not that anyone actually tried) Bizzaro trotted to the scene exchanging a few words with Y/N, pointing at Jason, who wished he had his helmet on to hide himself. No one in their sound mind would point a finger at him when in his Red hood suit. But at the moment he was just a regular guy, unable to fight his real, a little shy and too sensitive nature showing. And also trying his best to not look in her direction.

Due to his hiding state, he missed Y/N lightening up, nodding at Bizzaro, saying something with a cheerful nod and climbing up the scene, fixing her microphone.

“Uh-huh. Looks like she’s about to sing after all. Bizzaro definitely has a talent for convincing people. And Y/n seems to like our little Superman -clone.” Artemis teased, playing on the strings of Jason shaking heart.

He wanted so bad to tell her something harsh and mean, but the melody and quickly following voice made it impossible.

His head snapped towards the scene, watching her.

Definitely in her element.

Shining like a star (no offense to Starfire), feeling the song, putting emotions into the words that otherwise would sound empty and without meaning. But sung by her? Somehow, Jason found himself in a completely different reality, where threats and strategic thinking had like zero meaning. All that mattered was watching her every move. And oh- how much he wanted to just stand up and walk to the stage, seeing her from the close up, instead of being forced to keep his distance, sitting in the booth. (though to be completely honest, even if he tried to walk his shaking legs would probably give up under him).

He was in trouble.

And his friends knew it too.

***

He needed to see her again.

And again and again and again.

Needed to meet her, to get to know her beyond that stage.

He wanted to be able to see her walking on the stage and think that this was his girl being a star.

To assure that whatever men were cheering for her by the stage, offering her drinks and sending her flowers she would only have eyes for him.

Those pretty e/c eyes that crossed with him that fateful night when Outlaws dragged him to the club.

He hated and loved them at the same time.

Because now he turned into a putty and was on his best way to become an alcoholic, using having drinks as an excuse to see her over and over and over. Cursing himself for not having enough guts to just talk to her, settling on watching her from the back of the club like a creep, probably scaring her off.

He had no chance with someone like her.

Not with his scars and baggage and stuff. And his other life. No way. This would only bring her trouble and danger and it was safer to stay in the shadows letting her shine.

But the more he attended her performances – be it on the previously arranged club shows or the quiet nights when she was singing only to the few half-drunk regulars and just for the fun of it – his heart ached for more.

“Where are you going, Jason?”

“Let me guess you are going to the club again?”

“Seems to me like you’re turning into a real party animal.”

‘You don’t like Y/N.”

Teasing remarks were haunting him for the last two months and at some point Jason decided it was taking too much energy to keep pretending. Every time he was leaving somewhere Roy, Kori, Artemis and Bizzaro seemed to know.

So instead of explaining himself or telling them to leave him alone, he was just grabbing his jacket and leaving without any word. Making sure to only come back when everyone was asleep so he could lay in his bed in the silence and dream.

Dream of holding her hand, of holding her, of forming a real, genuine connection.

But it was just that. A dream. Some crazy fantasy that would never come true for him, no matter how much he was praying for it.

***

“Hi.”

She was standing next to him, extending her hand, and for a second he couldn’t comprehend what she wanted him to do with the fact.

“I’m Y/N.”

“I know.” He only managed to stutter.

“Oh I know you know. You’ve been coming here for the last two months, night by night. One would think you’d learn my name by now.”

“Yeah… um…”

“I’d like to learn your name though. Cause I for sure know you are friends with Biz, but not much more than that.”

“My – my name?”

“Yeah, you know, the title you’re being called on a daily basis?” she chuckled and her laugh sounded equally beautiful as her singing. “Wait, no, let me guess – is it Thomas? Or maybe Todd?”

Jason laughed despite himself.

“What? Did I guess?”

“Not the first name. Todd is actually my second name. Jason is first.”

“Nice to meet you, Jason.” She reached for his hand herself and in any other case he would just avoid physical contact at any cost. But it was different with her.

“Nice to meet you too, Y/N.”

He wanted to say so many things to her. How he liked her singing and how she made his nights magical and how pretty she was and all that mushy, touchy-feely stuff that she probably heard a million times before. Words however never came easy to him, instead sticking to his throat causing him to grunt awkwardly, mentally slapping himself for letting the silence prolong. He could almost feel her slipping from his grasp and losing the one in a million chance.

“Would you like to grab a very early breakfast with me?” he blurted, not really believing what the hell just came out of his mouth, already preparing himself for a hard no.

“Yes! Thank god!” she looked towards the sky, putting her hands together as if to prayer. She was funny and he already liked it. “Finally someone smart enough to realize that after spending the entire day and half of the night in the bar, I’m not prone to having drinks. I’d love to grab something to eat. I’m starving.”

“A girl with an appetite?” Jason teased, feeling his heart flutter, the tension melting away.

“Yeah, I know, it looks bad, but sorry not sorry, I won’t be eating salad just to pretend to be someone I’m not. How about we grab burgers?”

It seemed like Jason was on the highway to falling in love.

***

The little diner was completely empty, giving them a perfect opportunity to talk and joke and tease and banter and bicker without hushing or judgment.

It turned out that they had a similar sense of humor and fairly similar interests.

Exchanging thoughts on books and their adaptations, talking about dreams and wishes and reflecting on deep stuff has never been this nice to Jason. It felt like he knew this girl for years, finding a kindred spirit in this h/c firecracker.

So only when the first rays of sunshine showed on the horizon and they were practically kicked out of the place, they left their seats going out being hit with the cold morning air. And when she shivered from the chill Jason did the unthinkable, reaching to pull her to his side and running hand up and down her spine to warm her.

And damn, it worked for both of them.

And damn she did not pull back.

And damn when he walked her home, to the door, and they just stood there for what seemed like eternity, like two awkward teenagers not sure what to do with the newfound, deep-level connection.

“So-“

“You first.”

“No, no, please, you go first.”

“Um… Can I see you again?”

“Sure! I mean – “ she collected herself quickly “I hope you’ll come to my next performance.”

“Of course, but I was thinking that – um… maybe we can grab early breakfast again? Or – very late dinner, depending on the end of your work?”

“Very late dinner sounds nice…” she smiled at the ground, avoiding his eyes.

“Really!?”

“Yeah… I mean, I told you I always get hungry after a performance. So dinner always sounds nice and – and a nice company would be an added value…”

“So I’m an added value, Y/N?” he asked, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the slight trembling of his voice due to the emotions.

“I did not say it!” she leaned to kiss his cheek, her lips lingering on his skin for a little longer than necessary. “Now go, before I call the police because I got a strange man harassing me in front of my house!”

***

He sneaked into the house, stepping on his tiptoes to avoid waking up any other member of the team.

Laying head on the soft pillow, ready to start dreaming again, but this time a little more reality-based fantasy –

“Hey Jason, where have you been?” Roy grinned peeking through the door.

“None of your fucking business” Jason grinned back, happier than ever.

***

my dear @ladychibirae! - thank you for this requests, I really hope you like it, cause I sure enjoyed writing it. I just sat down and before I realised, there was a 10 pages story in my docs. honestly, it's been a while since I wrote something so long <3

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd x you #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fluff #red hood fluff

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h-didanart · 3 months

Text

It was quiet.

And empty.

Very empty.

Way too empty.

He didn’t like the emptiness.

For starters he probably should be in way more pain than he is right now. And then there was the whole fire and sin theme missing from this place, making it a lot boringer than he was expecting.

So he was confused, to that he’ll admit. He hadn’t even seen whatever-the-hell-that-was coming! It was just- poof! Dead. Probably. More than likely.

Hell, that half an hour had just been those idiots debating on who gets to kill him, of course he’s dead! It would’ve been so funny to see the crazed moon fail at whether-the-hell he was doing. Or been an awesome way to die, who knows, it’s not like he can go back and ask that guy to shoot him with magic again.

Whatever, he was bored. Very bored.

Checking his limbs, all of them there. Could he move? Yes he could.

For an afterlife of eternal torment this didn’t seem much like torment. He just got to live in some white void or whatever. Oh maybe that was the torment, being bored in death, creative if anticlimactic.

And then a sound.

Imminent danger, a threat, newcomer, invader, something— he turned around towards the sound, fully ready to fight.

And then he froze.

Because that face— that wasn’t— he— holy shit

Holy shit

He didn’t like the pile of feelings dumped on him. He didn’t like it at all. It was like a rock bashed into his chest, but the rock was on fire and also weighed as much as an anvil.

He… he… knew those eyes. Better than the back of his hand. And that hat, those clothes, the godforsaken fluff surrounding that face. He didn’t register the damages, but they were extensive he’s broken in the ground, Monty reaches for his neck— they were so extensive. But the eyes hadn’t changed.

He hadn’t changed.

His brother…

His brother.

He stood there. It was all moving so fast, but also slow, there were a billion thoughts in his head. He could feel warmth building up on his face.

His brother looked at him, then down to himself. Oh. He was missing a leg. Never had he thought he’d feel disgust at seeing an injury. Clearly he had to be the one to get closer. And so he took a step forward. And another.

And then he was running.

He knew there was a smile on his face, he didn’t care. He knew the feelings were building up, he also didn’t care. All he wanted was to get to him.

And he did. The twins collided, he lifted his other up and spun a few times.

Fuck.

It had been so long. So goddamn long.

He remembers the last hug they had, the last interaction they had, his last view of him the screen is wound back he dares not look back— it had been an eternity. Agonizing eternity. He didn’t think he could’ve taken it had it lasted longer.

He missed him.

So fucking much.

He didn’t care that he was crying. He didn’t care that he was sobbing, wailing even.

To hell with self consciousness.

To hell with humiliation.

To hell with this place.

To hell with revenge.

To hell with the world.

To hell with blood.

None of that mattered in the now.

His world was finally complete again.

And he will never lose him again.

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meowsgirldrawing · 6 months

Text

Part 2 to my MC (Obey Me NightBringer) angst post: (Since so many people wanted part 2’s idea)

You can hear a pin drop, even though they stood on what was mostly carpet flooring.

All the brothers had vaguely dissimilar reactions to Solomon’s words. Or at least the ones he started up with once he crossed the hallway and joined the others with Mammon in the next room. They heard his words, but their questions, their concerns got coiled up with the silence that followed.

Lucifer had a deep frown, eyes hiding his deciphering mind as he stood arms crossed tightly with one another. If MC were there, they’d be able to see how his chest is a tad slower in rise and falling, as if taking each shaky breath is hard to do and cover at the same time.

Mammon stood beside Solomon, perhaps the only one sensible to make sure he still talks without letting their emotions interfere. He’s not protecting him per-say, just making sure his younger brothers know to keep themselves in check and wring the sorcerer later. Yet he’s not too far off himself. Only one person and Lucifer could tell he’s one string away from shifting into his demon form. So consider his stance as a two way message.

Leviathan is the only one sitting, or still is. Curled in a ball, he’s staring wide eyed at the human. His skin tingles and he’s shifted in his demon form already, but it’s mostly a way to ground himself ironically. He’s not a defensive less weirdo, he’s a demon! A lord! He can handle this!…Handle hearing what’s happened to MC-his Henry…right?

That’s where Asmodeus comes into play, his eye catching the transformation and immediately places himself at Leviathan’s shoulder. His fingers, polished nails he just redone with MC and Satan yesterday night just before retiring to bed, crease into his brother’s hoodie with a gentle rub. It’s ok. Everything will be alright. Solomon will just tell them what they need to do and they’ll all be fine! They’ll get their sweet MC back, all nice and healthy and happy! Besides, they just can’t leave without him trying that new club.. they have something to look forward to, with him, with his brothers…right?-Right! He ignores how his throat constricts at the very opposite ideas blinking through this head, and focuses on the only other human he’s made a pact with.

Satan is silent, a calculating glint in his eye. He stands nearly just as still as Lucifer, on the side with the twins, claws gripping his hips, If MC was here, they’d probably joke how he looks like an angry dad about to give the lecture of a lifetime. What Soloman said… it doesn’t make sense. MC was in the house before night fell. He’s knows for a damn fact, he’s the one who walked them home himself. He offered to walk with them after the meeting, despite Mammons complaints and Belphie’s pouts, as he had to check his personal library for something ideally for a project. They had fun, pet and fed the stays on the way, stopped by a quick ice cream joint, and ended their walk by ending up in his room to study. His last look at them was them rubbing their eyes, careful of the still drying nails from Asmo dropping in unexpectedly, and sending them both a sleepy goodnight and see ya later as they set off for bed. It was late when they went to bed. Something’s not adding up..

Oh..But if you thought the older brothers were bad...

Beel is the only thing keeping Belphie calm on the outside. His hand an anchor over his shoulder, arm curled around his back in a gentle but firm grip. The twins listen to Soloman with an intensity that can burn Devildom itself to the ground.

Belphie's relationship may be shaky, maybe be sometimes tense as they try to move on from the past. But by his not- father does the Avatar of Sloth want to rein hell on whoever dares touch the human that helped him mend back into his brothers' lives. Into Beel's life. He may look pouty, may look bored. But anyone that knows Belphie knows a plan is forming behind his eye. They will find MC. And the fuckers who came up with such a funny prank.

Beel feels..lost in this type of situation. One day he's having dessert with the human who teases him about his weird choices in ice cream, one he quickly and smoothly throws it back at them with their odd choice in cake flavors. Before the two ultimately breaking into giggles as the human baps at his back and he's swallowing down his bite with a grin. The next day, next morning...gone. Silence at their open chair, vacant and untouched like it was before they came to devildom. It's not right, they should be here. Should be there with him and his brothers. Diavolo..what happened to them??

"That can't be possible.." Satan immediatly dismisses, a dower in his tone. His nose crickles at the idea.

MC? Lost in time? But they weren't near anything like that! And MC can't even cast spells, much less accidentally do such a thing.

Lucifer can't help but agree. "Since MC arrived, the House of Lamentation has been put under a strict spell to ward off curses or shifty matters that can harm MC." He scrutinizes at Soloman, the man himself staring back with a raised brow as if really? "Theres no way something snuck past it's defenses long enough to get to MC. I'd be able to tell."

"You'd probably would have, but this...force. It's unworldly." Soloman's fingers play at his chin, " I've been looking all over Devildom but as soon as I wandered towards this house, I felt something overwhelming. Especially around where MC's room resides." His eyes flick up, stern and a 'I know what I'm talking about' tone dosed in them.

"Something, or rather someone, took MC and threw them into the past. Your past, right after the Celestial War if I have my readings right." He gets out as Mammon shifts beside him.

Just..after the Celestial War? Wait...Oh shit-

Mammon's head shoots to Lucifer, "That means-"

Lucifer already knows, "MC is possibly with our past selves."

As if that sentence alone can strike the biggest blow on the brothers, then next one is the killer. Levi can barely breathe, same for his brothers- Asmo's nails unintentially dig into his shoulder but he could care less- as Soloman shakes his head. "They are with your past selves."

Things calm down, a meeting is made with Diavolo and the rest of their searching group, and it's decided ironically that the Sorceror himself will go. As much as they don't want to, most agree he's the best candidate. Simon and Luke are already a big no. Angels randomly staying in devildom for a long, undisclosed time? Following around whatever MC is covering as? It would be a sore thumb, obviously fishy. Nevermind if they could protect MC or not.

Yeah Luke pouted big time on that one, but after a hug from Beel, he calmed down some. Now he's just holding onto his jacket as the others discuss ideas in front of the two.

Most, like Diavolo, Raphael, Mephistopheles, as well as Thirteen all have jobs to attend to, some especially in need to keep stable for the sake of Devildom or the Celestial Realm. Barbatos would have gone, the idea given by Diavolo, if not for his counter of the other Barbatos able to sense him right away if he came to MC's aid.

Similar reasons for the brothers, as much as they detest it. It would not be good for anyone involved if any of the brothers were to be seen by their other selves. More trouble than needed just to rescue MC from a certainly unusual but equally terrifying fate.

Soloman's past self was never around much in the beginning anyway, so the chances of meeting him are much, much slimmer. Besides, Soloman is crafty, calculating in his every move, and cares well enough for MC as the rest to put their safety as first priority. So, yeah, they can trust him enough.

"Better bring them back in one piece, Sorcerer, otherwise I'll have that soul faster than you can breathe anything coherent." A light threat from Thirteen, eyes as slit as a cat's, her fingers drumming on her hips.

Light castaways from Soloman's hand, he smiles as he starts the spell by Barbatos's help. "Like I'd do anything else."

Lucifer's eyes narrow, "Of course." It comes right off as sarcastic.

With that, and a few additional words from the future King asking for both him and MC to come back safe, Soloman is off. Disappearing into a flash of light, leaving no trace like he was never there.

Bonus---

The next few weeks are....tense to say the least.

Each of the brothers had mixed feelings on the whole thing as whole.

Lucifer sticks to his usual routine. Keeping his brothers safe and in line, helping in Diavolo's plans for the school, and all around just trying to douse the flames of chaos from MC's unexpected disappearance. He shows as fine and stern as usual Lucifer goes by, but the very few, Mammon and Diavolo mainly, know it's merely a front the majority of the time. His days feel longer, colder, while his nights are double. Every night before bed, he stalks the House of Lamentation, checking on each and every one of it's inhabitants, and as he rears to MC's room, it's uncanny vibe of no owner, back to the way it was before they dropped into Devildom, he sees no one but the usual, sleeping face of one or multiple of his brothers. The only sight that warms his silent yearning. Even if for just the night.

In the daytime however, people can tell theres a new...edge to him now. Working together with Diavolo and Barbatos, the two help Lucifer without question on finding who the hell decided to send the human they all have inclination towards. MC help bring Lucifer and his brothers back together, MC has gone above and beyond for a program Diavolo honestly some little doubts about himself and washed them away even after being dropped in unexpectedly. And for Barbatos, the two themselves aren't sure, but they can tell it's not just because it's his duty as his Master's right hand man to help out with. So they search, and while Lucifer usually has doubts on his brothers' help on any matter that could affect the standing of the program, for once he doesn't hold their leashes and hopes they do as they please. They will find the miserable pest, he's sure of it.

The Mammon outside the House of Lamentation is scarily different from the one inside. The outside one is loud, money-grubbing, and just as troublemaking as he always is. Gambling and dealing with witches as he always has, the Avatar of Greed shows no difference despite the obvious missing human every student and teacher of RAD occasionally sees attached at his side. No whispering at the back of class, no loud shouts of nonsense at the lunch table they claimed as their own, no equal calls of their name as one tries to catch up with the other in the halls afterschool. Not even at the clubs, the missing human who'd usually be on his lap or at his side as he gambles away with a spikey grin. Nor dancing along with him as he would twirl or be twirled despite his flustered acts. Its like MC never existed and he's as what he once was. Yet, if people looked close enough, they'd see something shifting in his much more observant eyes, taking in his surroundings more often with a pitch of rage that hides behind his blues. He's still searching, still trying to find the lowly fucker who thought taking his greatest treasure was the best fucking plan in the world. They are sure to show soon, he damn well knows it.

As his daytime is a mock show of indifference, the house is quiet and chaotic in the not so fun ways. He tries to keep his brothers together, but all of them can see he's close to loosing it at times. No one teases, or judges, or even glances twice as they watch him go to the human's room instead of his for bed. Curled in their blankets or simply leaning on the headboard, eyes not as bright and blue as they should be. No one likes a quiet Mammon, but no one knows what to do either, so they let the older brother do as he will.

Leviathan..oh man. He's gotten better since the first few weeks of hell for them, but he's not his usual self either. He clings more to his room like usual, watching MC's favorite animes they've clicked to on their nights of choosing, suddenly getting reasons why they've enjoyed some of them. Most have happy endings. Most end with characters having either fond or bright smiles stretched across each of their faces. He can't watch the best friend scenes though sometimes, it hurts too much and makes him hug the stuffed snake squish-mellow they gave him. On the opposite end of the silent sobs into said pillow or staring into nothing with such vacant eyes as tears stream down his cheeks, making them look red and irritated at breakfast in the morning- which he barely comes to anymore, Mammon has to drop off his plate- The Grand Admiral of Hell is at play. Using his known skills as a strategist, he expands the search for the one that brought this hell upon him and his family. Interrogations, warnings towards suspects he has on a special list of powerful people, the true show of a snake ready to strike at every ready moment and everything around it can be a target. And if anyone questions, "Why do this all for a human anyway?" He always has a good answer, people would just simply need to drown for him to let it be known. Because they're his and his brothers' human.

If people think Lucifer is terrifying, just wait till you see his wrath, or well the person who was born from it anyway. Satan may have a charming smile, a easy flow of his words, a spark to his eyes that can make even the strongest swoon. Yet it's his greatest tool as he looks for the person responsible. Similar to Mammon, he's just less loud. He goes through each and every connection, spanning their connections and slinking through them all. And if any show signs of deception or as if they have something to share, he's lucky to finally use Lucifer's basement key at last. While most of his nights, some leading into the day, he's cool amongst his brothers. Possibly the most composed looking of them all besides Lucifer. Sure he talks a little less, his words may come off short or a bit tense here and there. But his cool facade is well put together. He actually helps Lucifer with the student council stuff, or at least lays off him to make it easier. MC was able to help mend their relationship into something better, something that makes him secretly enjoy Lucifer as an older brother as much as he'd deny it. Yeah they aren't the bestest of friends or brothers, and their relationship shift is still new, shaky, but it's better than it's ever been. And he won't use this as an opportunity to break it, no. MC trusts him to be smart and do the right thing, and he will. He just hopes his past self will have enough sense to listen to them, cause if he remembers his past correctly, the beginning of his life..He knows they are in a world of new challenges with that version of him alone. He just has to trust them like they do him, until they meet again. And they will if he has any words to say about it.

Asmo...he's..ok. He's used to putting on masks, putting up a pretty face and smiling to whoever wants it. But if anyone knows Asmo, the real one, he's a fucking mess. He goes to parties and night clubs, giggling and laughing with his fellow demons, but when he's alone. Sitting in the cold area him and MC usually occupy on their late night escapades together, he's silent, tapping the rim of his drink with a bored and colorless expression. A few of his friends stop every now and then and he throws up a smile and sweet rings of "Darling" or "Dear" left and right. But he tends to leave earlier than he usually does, ignoring the small pleas of his friends asking him to mingle longer. He merely says things like, "My dear big brother Lucifer might track me down if I don't." or "My human needs their favorite demon, but don't worry, I'll see you all later <3!" and as soon as the music leaves his ears, the doors slamming shut behind him, he's back to a world of greys instead of pink and flowery. There's admittedly a few nights Lucifer has actually had to track him down, finding him drunk off his ass in the corner of clubs, a wide smile despite the obvious ruins of his mascara greeting his older brother with such fake enthusiasm that has Lucifer frowning knowingly. Those nights he ends up either curled up on his big brother's bed, an easy way for Lucifer to keep an eye on him or tucked into his own sheets as he watches Lucifer grab the pain killers and cup of water from Mammon's hands before burying his heated face into the pillow MC's borrows on their sleepovers. Depends on how wasted he is honestly. It's one of the reasons why Mammon's keeping a bigger eye on him especially. Leaving with him to the clubs or shops he wants despite also wanting to work his charm in the search for the culprit. Which, despite his insistence, all his older brothers tell him to let them handle it. Sure, he has ways to help, but who knows what the person is capable of. So he reluctantly agrees. Somewhat. He's looking himself. Any person who isn't MC, his brothers, or their inner circle of friends is a suspect and Asmo is more than a pretty face afterall. He just has to use his charm a little here and there, he's sure, and the person will drop to their knees quick enough for him to find them. If not, he's always got his claws nails as backup. He's always enjoyed red as a nice shade <3.

Good news, Beel isn't as hungry as before. Bad news, he's not eating as much as he really should. It took about a week and a half to notice, but the moment Mammon set down the plate infront of Beel, and he looks at it and goes "I'm not hungry." is when everyone got concerned. Like. Terrified. He feels some bit of hunger, yes, but eating anything, all when MC could be going through hell with their past versions (especially the version of him who didn't have as much of a leash on his hunger as he does now) it makes any bit of hunger go away instantly at the thought of MC in trouble. At the thought that someone or he could be...Just the idea makes him want to vomit. His brothers, pointingly Belphie and Mammon, all try to get him to eat and while he does some, it's not nearly as much as he used to. Satan leaves him extra snacks while passing by him after his bookstore run, Leviathan drags him to movie nights, suddenly having a near buffet style snack pile in the middle of the two. One that Leviathan barely touches but Beel is too focused on the story to notice honestly. Asmo doesn't seem to do too much, but he certainly has taken up doing more baking around the kitchen, always texting Beel first who 50/100 feels conflicted on agreeing or not. Lucifer has once threatened to chain him to the table until he eats but relents when Beel just stares down at the plate before glancing to the vacant seat at his side. Eyes holding an internal battle inside. Belphie, to Beel's surprise, dragged a whole ass bag of mid-night treats to their room, and set it on his dresser. Telling him point blank, MC wouldn't want him, especially him of all people, to starve himself. Besides, how will he protect MC when they're back if he's too weak from low nourishment? While Belphie hates poking at the protective side of Beel, the side that has always put his twin in the most complicated feelings/situations, it's the side that wins over and makes him grab one of his favorite treats. Sure, he may not be scrounging the low lives of Devildom, or sending fleets of his contacts from all around in search of the culplit, but he's making damn sure the moment they find him, they'll wish they never looked in their human's direction ever. And that's the only thing besides the support from his patched together again family that helps him through the colder nights. And the cheeseburger pillow MC gave him that he holds tight to his chest every night.

Belphies....not the best. Not Asmo not best or Mammon, but, let's just say Lucifer is getting flashbacks to when he threatened to end an entire species in mourning of his sister. Yeah, that not best. The things that cicles through the youngest's head is unrelenting words he used to spout constantly when he first came to devildom, his unrelenting grief over loosing his sister and times in the Celestial Realm, and above all, his absolute hate for humankind. The way he was before was nothing like Satan, no, but he defiantly was nowhere near a ray of sunshine either. I mean, he isn't now half the time, but at least he has more common sense and pushed past all the negative hate to see that humans weren't the reason his sister was gone. They may have been a factor in the catalyst, but they were nowhere near at fault. Hell, one just loved his sister without even knowing she was an angel to begin with. And she loved him back, and while Belphie (Despite his own simple love for humans) couldn't understand the type of love she shared with the mortal. Now, he does. Now he's willing to do whatever it takes to get that unexpected human back, no he's willing to act like a sleepy Avatar of Sloth during the day, and stalks the dreams of the sleeping at night. As he checks his brothers dream, lately nightmares he tries to soothes silently with dreams of similar times, as he watches over his twins and bats away every bad thought or image that strikes his way, he's searching and planning. He conjures every dark nightmare he can, every fear, every gut retching image that could make even the Demon King himself wince in disgust. And as for MC themselves, they cloud his mind every waking moment he has allowed to think to himself. He's seen first-hand that it'll take more than just claws and teeth to take that human down for good, and as much as it makes his own gut clench with disgust and self-loathing at himself, enough to sound like Levi's twin instead, he just uses it as reassurance that whatever his past self throws at them, they can handle it. And if not, surely his brothers will for them.

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scribblesofagoonerr · 2 months

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— oh my god, derek's here! | Glastonbury Series

well here's the third part of this mini series then. i hope it doesn't completely suck ✌🏼

massive thank you to @alotofpockets and @lvnleah again for the ongoing help throughout writing this and putting up with me throwing ideas at them all the time.

pairings: leah williamson x reader!monkey

summary: the second day of the festival and leah's dealing with her hangover but of course it's more reason for monkey to be a menace

you can check out the whole masterlist here: chaos fc masterlist

also it's come to my attention that the order of it might be confusing so i'm working on writing something up to make better sense of it :)

"Goooood mooooorning!" You are kind enough to shout out loud the next morning to wake the blonde from her slumber and no doubt she is definitely going to feel somewhat rough this morning, “Good morning! Good morning!”

It is kind of her own fault for getting in that state though last night.

So, she deserves this after all.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!” You not so gently poke and prod her until she stirs from her sleep, because you’re absolutely going to make the most of this while you can, “Rise and shine, Le!”

“Agh, Monkey,” The blonde grumbles, instantly trying to pull the sleeping bag over her face in an attempt to drown out your voice no doubt, either than or block the light on, “No, my head. Stop!”

A shit eating grin takes over your face as you try and peel back the sleeping bag, “Come on, Le. Wake up, wake up. I’m bored!”

“Then go and find entertainment somewhere else,” Leah murmurs, scrunching her eyes shut as the brightness hits her, “Monkey, I swear to god. Stop it!” She shouts as you attempt to try and pull the hands away from her face and by the look on her face, she instantly regrets it.

Snickering to yourself, you are so kind enough to not so gently sit right on top of her and continue to poke her, “You’re the one that drank probably more than your liver can handle. It’s not my fault that happened!”

The blonde huffs, showing her clear annoyance for you waking her up, “I’m just enjoyin’ myself.”

“What and lettin’ loose? Cos’ you definitely did that!” You remark, beaming a wide smile as you can’t help but enjoy the blonde looking so… dishevelled, considering how much she drank, “You’re still wearing last night’s clothes, ouch!” You note.

“I don’t even remember how I got back here,” Leah admits, slowly sitting up and rubbing her eyes tiredly before she glances around the tent, “Agh, jesus. My head is still pounding. How much did I drink?” She questions, placing her head in her hands.

“You really took full advantage that Buddy isn’t with you and the whole idea of being sensible went completely out of the window– Phew, gone!” Making the noise of an aeroplane accompanied with hand gestures, you get your point across, “I’m not sure, but it was enough for you to get absolutely hammered.”

“Oh my God,” Leah murmurs, holding her hand in her hands.

Remembering what happened the previous night, you scramble to find your phone as you pick it up and unlock it, “I do know that Holly literally had to help you back to the tent last night though and you almost ended up getting into some random persons instead, so that was funny to watch,” You pause as you flick through your photo album to find the video, “Oh! I even managed to video it as well. Watch it!”

That being said, you all but shove the phone in front of her face to show her antics from the previous night while the blonde continues to look completely mortified.

“God, no, delete that!” Leah demands as she tries to reach for the phone out of your hands as she winces at the sudden volume, “Tell me that you didn’t post that anywhere!”

“I wouldn’t dare,” You try to act innocent.

It’s not a complete lie, you didn’t share it across any social platforms… But you did send it somewhere.

“I know that look and you would,” Leah grumbles, attempting to rub her temples to ease her current headache, “Tell me you didn’t post it.” She repeats, looking at you wearily.

Biting your bottom lip, it’s not long before you can’t keep a secret, “Yeah, you’re right, I totally would… And I did, well kinda,” You admit, scratching the back of your neck, “I posted it to the group chat!”

“WHAT?!” Leah shouts and immediately regrets it once again as she winces, “Monkey, are you serious– What group chat?” She questions, trying to find her phone in the tent.

“The family one,” Grinning proud of yourself, you switch to the family group chat that you are in amongst the rest of the Williamson/Baker clan and show Leah the chat, “Your brother found it hilarious. See?” You ask the grumpy blonde.

“You’re such a little menace!” Leah mutters in disbelief and shakes her head slowly, “That better not go anywhere else!” She warns, pointing her index finger directly at you.

Holding your hands up in mock surrender, you smirk slightly, “I can promise that, but I can’t say much about anyone else though,” At least your honest about that one because you could have said worse, “Anywho, can you get up and deal with the hangover, cos’ I really wanna go and watch Jamie Webster perform!”

“I’m not in the mood to go anywhere right now other than back to sleep,” Leah says as she attempts to lie back down and close her eyes.

“Nuh uh, you can’t do that,” You’re very much against the idea of that, there was so much more to do today, “Come on, Le! I happen to know the perfect hangover cure!”

“Oh, yeah?” Leah looks at you sceptically.

“To drink more, duh,” You tell her like it’s the most obvious answer, “You can’t feel a hangover if you’re just still drunk instead!” You state your idea.

The blonde scoffs in disagreement, “That doesn’t seem like a sensible option to decide.”

“Yeah, well, it’s either that or you suffer a hangover all day,” You tell her honestly while you shrug your shoulders, “You want breakfast? I got it sorted!”

“God, no,” Leah’s face instantly pales at the mention of food and you can’t help but grab the pizza box with leftovers in and shove it right in front of her face, “I’m gonna be sick– Get that out of my face!”

“Heh, why?” The mood you’re in today, you can’t help but want to wind her up about things. “Cold pizza happens to be a great choice of breakfast!”

Wrinkling her face in disgust, Leah is very much in disagreement with that one, “Ew, that’s gross, Monkey. When did you even get pizza?” She questions.

“I got it last night,” You tell her, munching on a cold slice of it, “On the way back to the tent, cos’ you forgot to feed me since you were so busy drinkin’ and all. Oh, by the way, how was the kebab?” You ask her, waiting to see if she remembers any of it.

“Kebab?” The blonde looks confused.

“This one,” You gesture to the photo on your phone that you swipe across to, “See? I knew you wouldn’t be able to remember it!”

“I… I don’t remember it,” Leah admits feeling completely embarrassed by her actions the previous night, “I don’t even like kebab meat.”

“That’s what I said!” You shout aloud in agreement.

“Monkey, my head,” Leah grumbles and covers her head in her hands again, “Lower your voice, please– How can you even stand to eat cold pizza right now?”

Shrugging your shoulders, you continue to munch on the pizza, “Hey, I love pizza and pizza loves me!” You quote the blonde’s words from an interview she did once with Sky.

“You’re seriously using my own words against me?” Leah questions in disbelief.

“Yus,” You say with a mouthful of pizza still, “Are you sure you don’t want any of it?” You offer, holding the box up in front of her face again.

“No– Get that out of my face, Monkey!” Leah grumbles, batting the box away from her.

“Safe to come in?” Holly’s voice calls from outside the tent, “I brought you some painkillers.” She adds.

“All safe in here,” You reply loudly to the blonde.

Unzipping the tent, Holly pokes her head into the tent, “Ah, good morning Le! How’s the hangover?” She teases her cousin.

“Oh it’s just peachy,” Leah murmurs sarcastically in response.

“Well you certainly did enjoy yourself last night,” The older blonde can’t help teasing her cousin still.

“I heard all about it from this one,” Leah tells her, exhaling a sigh as she winces, “Please tell me you’ve got painkillers?” She asks.

“I do indeed,” Holly chuckles and passes the packet to Leah along with a bottle of water, who doesn’t hesitate to pop them in her mouth and wash down with water, “So, no round two today then, eh?” She jokes.

“Absolutely not, I don’t think my liver could handle it, honestly,” Leah says honestly as she screws the lid back on the bottle.

“You drank enough for the entire weekend,” You snicker in amusement.

“I haven’t felt this rough in a while,” Leah groans as she does no more than try and lay back down, shoving what she thinks is a pillow over her face until she gets a mouthful of pink fluff, “What the– What the hell is this?” She spits it out and looks at you confused.

“Oh! Meet my unicorn… I haven’t decided on a name yet though!” You grin in triumph as you take it from her, “I got it last night while you were drunk!”

“Come on, come on!” You exclaim, try to rush the two blondes through the crowd of people to get to the other stage where you’re keen to watch Jamie Webster perform, “Hurry up, slowpokes!”

“If you expect me to run after you then you have another thing coming with how I feel,” Leah remarks in disagreement at the idea of running to catch up with you, “That one has too much energy.” She murmurs to her cousin beside her, still feeling the pounding in her head.

Holly chuckles lightly, “Paracetamol still not kicked in yet then?” She wonders.

“No, sadly not,” The blonde scrunches her face up, “God, my head. What on earth was I even thinking of drinking that much?” She questions.

“I don’t know, but you seemed to really be enjoying yourself so there’s not much harm,” The older blonde laughs in amusement at her cousin's unusual antics, “I saw the comment your brother left, so you know you won’t be living that one down now.”

“You’re not kidding there but that’s all down to Monkey,” Leah huffs and shakes her head.

“Hurry up you pair!” You shout aloud impatiently that they both seem to be taking forever to walk at the pace they are, “Come on, we’re gonna miss it!”

“Yeah alright, chill out. We’re coming,” The blonde responds, rolling her eyes, “Who even decides to have a set this early in the morning?” she murmurs aloud in protest.

Holly snickers in amusement, “Le, it’s like 11…”

“And I’m still hungover– Uh I think I’m gonna be sick or something,” Leah states as a wave of nausea washes over her and her face pales.

“Hurry up!” You can’t help but continue to be impatient, not liking the pace of the older girls when you just want to get there and watch the performance, “Hurry up! Hurry up!”

“Yeah alright, we’re coming, Monkey!” Leah huffs and shakes her head, “Honestly I swear you have no patience sometimes.” She adds.

“I wanna watch it today, not tomorrow!” You’re very impatient and you hate waiting around, so you do no more than what you're good at and make a run for it through the several people in the crowd.

“Monkey– Ow,” Leah immediately regrets the decision as she winces in pain, “She’s going to get lost– I knew I should have put a tracker on her. I’m not going to be able to find her!” She panics slightly in realisation, her eyes widening.

“She’s got her phone, I’m sure she won’t be too far ahead,” Holly reassures her cousin straightaway, “She’ll be fine, knowing her, she'll most likely be at a food stall or something.” She jokes.

Leah smiles slightly but that doesn’t ease her worries, “I hope so. That wouldn’t look good if I end up losing her here.”

“Hi, girls!” Grace greets, meeting up with them ahead of the set, “How’s the head this morning, Leah?” She jokes, having seen her state last night.

“Oh I’m feeling as fresh as expected,” Leah replies sarcastically.

Josie winces at the comment, “You look rough, mate. You were so gone last night.”

“God, not you pair as well,” Leah groans, placing her head in her hands.

“Someone had a bit too much fun last night, didn’t they?” Holly takes the opportunity to tease her cousin.

“You really were dancing like no tomorrow,” Grace chips in.

“And now you can barely stand,” Josie adds as she looks around and notices your absence, “Where’s Monkey? It’s quiet.”

“She ran ahead,” Leah murmurs, trying to not think about the worst about you running off.

“Ah I see, well no doubt you’ll find her soon enough—” Grace is cut off as you bolt back over to them.

“Oh my God, Derek’s here!” You exclaim at the highest volume possible, making Leah instantly wince and hold her head in her hands again, “Guys! Come see, follow me, follow me!”

Oops?

“Oh… There she is!” Holly jokes, shaking her head in amusement.

You don’t waste time to take hold of Leah’s wrist and not so gently pull her in the direction of where you found Derek, while the rest of the girls reluctantly follow you taking the lead.

“What in the… Who’s Derek?” Grace is left baffled but reluctantly, they follow you.

“Le, looky!” You point your index finger in the direction of the cows, “Looky! Le, it’s Derek… And he’s got a brother as well!” Your excitement is given and you can’t help but the loudness of your voice.

Leah on the other hand isn’t as thrilled, “Monkey, please… Not so loud. My head is fragile this morning.” She tells you, trying to rub her temples to ease it.

“You only have yourself to blame there,” You state, shrugging your shoulders carelessly before you turn to look at the makeshift cows, “Looky! Hi Derek— Whoa! This is like, so great. Can I get a selfie?” You ask them.

Grace and Josie look deeply concerned, “Is she… What is she…” Neither of them quite know how to express their words, looking at you with a mixture of facial expressions.

“This is Monkey,” Leah murmurs, shaking her head.

“You just have to go along with what she says. It’s the best bet,” Holly adds into the explanation.

“Where is it?” Leah questions while she is routing through her purse and looks directly at you.

Standing in the line of a food stall to get something to eat before the next set which happens to be Cyndi Lauper, Leah goes to pay with her own bank card and has the sudden realisation about the fact that your bank card is missing in her purse, even if she remembers seeing it yesterday before you both left.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” You answer, trying to act innocent.

Of course you know what exactly she is talking about, you just find it funny to mess with her right now when she is in the fragile state that she is.

Leah scoffs and shakes her head, “Don’t play that game with me, you know exactly what I am talking about here!”

“Nope, nuh uh. I literally don’t have any idea what you’re going about right now,” You tell her, continuing to act innocent as you try to play off looking confused.

“Your bank card, Monkey. I know that you have it!” Leah states, firmly. “Where is it?”

“Oh that thing,” You tut slightly as you tap your forehead in a thinking motion, “Nope, soz’ dunno. I can’t help you there.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” Leah narrows her eyebrows and gives you a look that you usually just cower and agree to not be such a menace, but today is a different game, “Where is it?” She repeats.

Trying to stop the shit-eating grin from your face is proving hard, “I told you already that I don’t know.”

“And I told you already that I’m not buying that,” Leah doesn’t back down as she holds her hand out for you to pass her your bank card, “I know you it, Monkey. Hand it over.”

“I don’t have it,” You continue to insist, loving winding up the hungover blonde a little bit too much.

“Monkey!” Leah raises her voice a bit and then winces in regret.

“Fine, alright, alright,” You reluctantly give in, sliding your card out of your pocket and handing it to her, “I don’t see why I can’t handle my own money. I’m perfectly capable of it!”

The blonde scoffs in clear disagreement, “Oh really? Because the giant ass unicorn that I discovered in the tent this morning doesn’t really scream that to me.”

“Well there’s also a cowboy hat and a green neon flashy light, but we won’t talk about them,” You murmur, shoving your hands in your pockets and hoping she didn’t hear that.

“And this just proves my point!” Leah looks at you in disbelief, waving her hand about in the air, “Do I even wanna know how much you spent?” She asks.

“It really wasn’t that much, I was sensible,” You tell her, honestly.

You're sort of telling the truth there, but of course you won’t mention taking out a lump sum at a cash machine just in case you find something else that you just need to buy.

“You and sensible do not belong in the same sentence,” Leah remarks while shaking her head as you both walk back to meet up with the rest of the group, “Did you know anything about Monkey’s spending spree?” She asks her cousin.

“Huh, what,” Holly takes a moment to understand what she’s on about, “Oh, no, I’m just as surprised as you are about it.”

Your eyes widen and your mouth is agape in disbelief, “Wha… That isn’t true!” You exclaim, seeing the look that Holly gave you that the blonde couldn’t see with her head turned, “Yeah no, actually, yeah, I wandered off when you were drunk last night all by myself.”

“I’m not letting you leave my sight again, god knows what else you would end up buying here,” Leah insists, shaking her head at your spending habits.

“Fifteen minutes until I finally get to see Camila Cabello live, this is like, a dream come true!” You are literally bouncing up and down in excitement over this, from the minute you found out the line-up, this is someone that you were adamant you want to go and watch live.

“I thought you said that about watching Scouting for Girls,” Leah jokes, ruffling your hair much to your annoyance of her doing that.

“Someone’s excited, huh?” Holly teases lightly.

“Duh! It’s Camila Cabello, people!” You exclaim, you don’t mean to be rude but you’re freaking out inside and you have a tendency to not think before you speak sometimes.

“Yeah we can’t tell that you’re excited at all.” Grace chips in, sarcastically.

“Roar!” You burst out with it and it does get you a few odd looks, but you don’t care, you’re way too excited about the fact you are literally minutes away from watching Camila Cabello.

Holly looks at you in concern, “Wha… You’re so weird sometimes, kid!” She tells you.

“So? It’s better than being normal though, ain’t it,” You shrug your shoulders in response.

“Well… You have a point there,” Josie chimes in.

“Hey, I’m here for a good time, not a long time!” You grin at the older girls and turn to look at Leah, “Le! Can you believe it? We’re gonna be watching Camila Cabello soon– I’m so excited I could scream!”

Leah exhales a sigh as she slides her phone back into her pocket, “Er, I hate to burst your bubble, Monkey, but you’re not going to be able to watch that,” She drops the bombshell on you.

“What?” You shout aloud, looking at her like she’s out of her mind, “Why not? Of course I am!”

“Well not unless you can be in two places at once,” The blonde explains, biting her bottom lip, “I’ve just checked the performance times.” She adds.

You stare at her confused, “What’re you on about?”

“Louis Dunford is on stage in ten minutes,” Leah tells you.

“Oh,” You frown in realisation before you shrug your shoulders, “That’s okay I’ll just skip watching Louis and watch Camila instead– I can always see Louis another time.”

Now it’s Leah’s turn to stare at you in bewilderment, “You cannot be serious?”

“Wha… Cos’ I don’t wanna watch Louis Dunford? Boo hoo!” You joke, winding her up about it knowing that of course she’ll be passionate to watch him considering she’s a lifelong Gooner.

So are you, technically, but come on this is Camila Cabello!

Tickets to her shows are expensive, it’s not like you can watch her perform at the drop of a hat when she is on tour.

“Whoa, okay, alright. I’m gonna pretend like you didn’t just say that,” Leah clutches her hand over her heart, “Come on, we’d better head over there now. Girls, which stage is it again?”

“Left field,” Holly states.

You furrow your eyebrows and cross your arms, “I don’t get why I can’t just stay here and watch Camila Cabello, she’s better!” You insist.

Probably a bad idea to say these direct words to the blonde, who looks at you deeply offended.

Oops… You did it again.

“Enough of this nonsense, Monkey,” Leah clicks her tongue in disagreement, “You play for Arsenal, you’re my kid– You’re going to come and watch Louis Dunford perform. I will take you to watch Camila Cabello another time!” She insists.

“But Le. you don’t get it– This is Camila Cabello that we’re talking about here, this is like a once-in-a-lifetime chance!” You try and get your point across, because this really is a whole different experience to witness but no, of course you’re not allowed to watch it because you’re stuck with a blonde that all but bleeds Arsenal and god forbid you disagree with watching him.

“Well in this case, consider that Camila Cabello is cancelled today because you’re not missing out on the chance to watch Louis Dunford!” With that being said, Leah’s all but dragging you across the other side of the field to the left field stage where Louis Dunford is set to perform.

“Lighten up kid. What’s with the long face?” Holly jokes, nudging you lightly when she sees you looking miserable still, “Nobody should be this unhappy about going to see Coldplay!”

“This is my sad face because I’m well, sad,” You murmur as you keep your hands shoved in your pocket as you follow the older girls in the direction of the pyramid tent to watch the next performance of the night which would be Coldplay, although you’re still upset about not being able to watch Camila Cabello perform.

“What’re you sad about?” Grace wonders looking at you in concern, but of course she already knows the answer.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t made your opinions and thoughts very clear the whole set that Louis Dunford did, you grumbled in complaint and refused to even enjoy listening to the music.

No matter how much Leah tried to encourage you to join in, it wasn’t like you could do much to escape when the blonde had her arms wrapped around your neck and you were all but forced to stand there for the better part of 40 minutes.

Although you may have found yourself singing along the lyrics to a certain song…

At least there was the advantage that Leah wasn’t extremely drunk today, sipping on her water, but that meant she was more level headed and you couldn’t sneak off like planned.

“Because somebody made me miss Camila Cabello performing live, which is literally a dream of mine and it couldn’t happen, because Malfoy over here is a diehard Gooner and decided that I needed to watch a song be performed which I’ve already heard a dozen times before!” You rant, still pretty upset about the fact that you did miss out on the opportunity to watch the women perform which is literally something you have wanted to see even through the early days when she was a part of Fifth Harmony.

Leah rolls her eyes and shakes her head, “Are you never not dramatic? You can’t seriously still be upset about this one, are you?”

“What’d you think?” You scowl at the blonde, “It’s not fair I had to miss it!” You shout aloud in protest, throwing your hands up in the air.

“I fear we’re gonna hear about this for the rest of the weekend,” Holly jokes, trying to keep the mood light.

You scowl at the older girls in annoyance, “It’s not fair though, watching Camila would have been totally sick!” You exclaim, making this a big deal because it really is.

“I’m sure you’ll get over it, Monkey,” Leah remarks, rolling her eyes again and shaking her head at your dramatics, “Don’t act like you weren’t there belting the lyrics out to North London Forever, you didn’t seem too upset about it then.”

Damn, you’ve been caught out…

“Yeah well, it’s not like I had a choice!” You threw your hands up in protest, “It still hurts, I’m pretty cut up about it inside, you know?” You state, wiping a fake tear away.

“Oh yeah, you seem really upset about it,” Leah snickers in amusement, “That’s great acting that one is, Monkey. You deserve an Oscar.” She adds.

“God, I’m ready to sit down. My feet are killing me!” Leah complains at the end of the performance, “Pretty sure I have lost my voice as well from screaming so much!” She adds.

“Mine too– I think I have danced way too much tonight,” Holly states, feeling completely exhausted.

“I can’t wait to get back to the hotel!” Grace exclaims in agreement.

You scrunch your face up and look at Leah, “See? Why couldn’t we stay in one of them instead,”

“Camping is part of the experience, Monkey,” Leah insists, grinning and slinging her free arm around you, “You can’t deny it hasn’t been fun so far!”

“Still though… At least there’s wifi there!” You whine and complain, being the typical teenager that you are and can’t survive without wifi, “I can’t even FaceTime Kyra because the signal out here is so bad!”

You’ve been wanting to FaceTime your best friend ever since you got here, but with the delay of time zones and not to mention the terrible connection, it’s been difficult to do that.

“I’m sure you’ll survive a couple more days until then,” Leah rolls her eyes in disagreement, despite the fact that she knows you really do miss your best friend.

“Kids these days, eh?” Holly teases you lightly.

Pouting at the older blonde, you’re not so keen on her teasing you, “What is the next act of the night?” You ask Leah.

“Bed time,” Leah replies, patting your shoulder.

“Wha… No way. That’s– It’s still early!” Your protests are loud, you have so much energy that you feel like you can easily run around the whole place.

A yawn escapes Holly’s mouth as she looks at you in confusion, “Kid, it’s almost midnight,” She pauses for a second to yawn again, “How’re you not tired?”

“Dunno,” You answer with a simple shrug of your shoulders, “But I haven’t even had a single energy drink either! I could keep going all night!” You exclaim, proving how wide awake that you still are.

“I’m so exhausted,” Grace remarks as she yawns.

Josie nods tiredly as she leans on her friend for help, “Yeah, me and you both.”

“Cos’ you are both old and boring,” Sticking your tongue out at the two of them, “Come on, there’s so much more to do still!”

“How… How are you still going kid?” Holly looks bewildered at your non stop energetic energy.

“Yeah, I thought you’d have crashed out on the ground for sure by now,” Leah chips in, reminding you of that eventful night in Nashville that you still aren’t able to live down.

“Wha… That only happened once!” You whine in protest, of course Leah would be the one that would bring that up again, but then again you probably do deserve it when you have been winding her up all day about her hungover.

The blonde chuckles faintly, “I was convinced it was bound to happen again today. Come on, let’s start heading back!” She gestures in the direction of where the tents are.

“Yeah, we’re gonna head back that way to get an Uber back to the hotel,” Grace chips in, sliding her phone into her pocket after you figure she has just booked it, “See you all tomorrow!”

“Night girls,” Josie waves to the three of you.

“Night girls!” Holly repeats, waving to the two of them.

Leah waves and starts to pull you gently towards the direction of the tents, “Come on Monkey. Let’s go back to the tent and we can sleep.”

Scrunching your face up in disgust, you're not too much a fan of that, “I’m not even the slightest bit tired,” You spin around in a circle and something in the distance starts to catch your eye which you want to check out.

“You might not be, but we are,” Holly speaks with the tiredness clear in her voice.

“That’s cos’ you’re both old and can’t hack it any longer!” You’re quick to fire back at them, trying to walk off in the opposite direction.

“Cheeky sod,” Holly murmurs in shock.

“Come on, let’s go!” Leah states, trying to pull you in the direction, much to your own disappointment, “Monkey, come on– No, no, this way!”

“I already told you I’m not tired, I have so much energy!” You whine in protest, “I’m free as a bird– Ooo, I wanna check that out!” Your attention is caught by neon lights that of course you want to go and look at more.

Cos’ pretty lights are great and all, right?

“You have a pretty light back in the tent, stare at that instead,” The blonde tells you, firmly as she continues to hold onto your wrist knowing full well what you are like, “You you can burn off the last bit of energy you have running round the tent for all I care, but I’m tired and I’m not going to leave you here by yourself.” She adds.

“Why not?” You huff in protest and reluctantly walk back to the tent much to your disagreement, “I could totally make friends with the hippies. Smoke a lil’ bit and have a blast!” You mumble.

Leah looks at you with wide eyes, “No, I definitely don’t agree with that. That doesn’t sound safe at all!” She’s not so keen to let go of your wrist as the three of you push through the crowd to get out of the main bit of the festival.

“Hey, Le!” You poke and prod her as she lies in her sleeping bag fast asleep, which is the complete opposite of your own wide awake state right now, “Le, are you awake? Le, I gotta ask you something!”

It’s been a few hours since you left the festival, Leah and her cousin were pretty eager to fall asleep but you on the other hand, well you can’t sleep not one bit so you spent the first couple of hours scrolling through your Instagram feed, watching several TikTok’s and you had even managed to speak to Kyra briefly which was great.

You really do miss your best friend a hell of a lot, it just sucks that you can’t see her until after the Olympics.

Now you just have the problem of being wide awake and bored, so in return now you wanna be a menace.

Leah’s had at least a few hours of sleep so it’s perfectly fine to wake her up now.

It’s only 3 am, it’s not that bad.

The blonde beside you grunts in displeasure of being woken up, “Monkey, wha… What’s wrong?” She’s half asleep as she looks straight at you, “Are you okay?” She asks, concerned.

“I can’t sleep,” You admit to her as you exhale a sigh.

“That’s it?” Leah furrows her eyebrow as she reaches out for her phone to check the time, “Monkey, I thought there was something wrong with you! It’s 3 am, it’s late. Go to sleep!”

You can’t help but huff in disagreement, “But Le, I can't sleep. I gotta tell you something” You insist, sitting up properly in the sleeping bag, “It’s super important!”

“I’m sure whatever it is can wait until tomorrow morning,” The blonde grumbles, trying to close her eyes and go back to sleep, “But for now, sleep.”

Scoffing in disagreement, you shake your head, “Sleep is for the weak.”

“Then I guess I’m weak,” Leah murmurs with her eyes still closed, “Monkey, please just go sleep.” She tells you, tiredly.

“I can’t sleep, I’m not even the tiniest bit tired!” You whine in protest, “I really do have to tell you something though!” You turn to look at her and poke her again for her to stay awake.

Leah groans and opens her eyes to look at you, “Alright, fine, go on then… What is so important that it can’t wait until tomorrow to tell me?” She questions.

Your eyes lit up glee, “Have you ever wondered about what happens when you put sprinkles on ice cream?” You question the blonde, who looks at you with a pinched eyebrow, “Like, the sprinkles on ice cream is an explosion of flavours, innit?”

“Wha…” Leah continues to look bewildered, “That didn’t make any sense at all. Monkey, is there an actual question you want to ask me?” She questions, trying to understand the way that your brain works sometimes.

“That was the question!” You exclaim against her words.

The blonde pinches the bridge of her nose, “Monkey, it’s almost 3 am now. Now isn’t the time for you to be asking daft questions like this,” She states, firmly.

You huff in protest and sit there for a few minutes in silence, “Oh, oh, I have another really important one to ask you!”

Leah grumbles and swears under her breath, “Monkey, I swear– No more questions, go to sleep. It’s late!” She tells you, firmly.

“But Leeeeeah, this one is really, really important!” You continue to insist, trying to fight the idea of going to sleep, “Like super duper important!”

“Monkey, sleep, now!” Leah tells you firmly while giving you a look that you are all too familiar with when you’re in trouble but you're not too bothered about that right now.

You have a super important question that you just need to know the answer to.

“I really need to know the answer to this one,” You tell her as you pout dramatically but you still have a ton of energy inside of you.

Leah grumbles and shakes her head, “I swear to god– What? What is it that you're so desperate to ask me? It had better be an actual question this time, no messing about!”

“Yus alright then,” You grin at the blonde, “Do you reckon that lightning mcqueen needs car insurance or life insurance?” You wonder.

Oh my God, I cannot even…” Leah pinches the bridge of her nose and exhales a sigh, “No! No more, that’s it! Lie down, close your eyes and go the fuck to sleep!”

“You swore, you need to put money in the swear jar!” You gasp dramatically, pointing your index finger at her, “Don’t be a hypocrite either!”

“I couldn’t care less about the damn swear jar right now,” Leah grumbles in annoyance, “It’s late, go to sleep, now!”

You huff in protest and shake your head in disagreement, “I can’t, I’m not tired. It’s an important question that I need to know the answer to!”

“I don’t care, I am!” The blonde replies in frustration, “I’m not listening to any more of this nonsense. Go to sleep, Monkey!” She repeats.

“One more thing…” You try to tell her much to her annoyance which you don’t quite get the memo of it yet.

“No, no, nothing else,” Leah interjects holding her hand to shut you up, “I’m not listening to any more of this. We have another full day tomorrow, so sleep now!”

“I’m not tired still though,” You whine in complaint and go back to scrolling through your phone.

“Maybe if you get off your phone that might help?” Leah murmurs as her eyes slowly flutter shut again, “Go to sleep, Monkey. I’m not dealing with you being grumpy tomorrow.” She adds.

“Sleep is for the weak, who needs sleep? Certainly not me,” You speak your thoughts aloud huffing in disagreement, “I reckon I could stay awake all night and not feel the slightest bit tired– I don’t even need an energy drink, not like I’d even be able to get away with drinking one– I can’t wait until I can finally see Buddy again. I miss her so much!”

You're yapping so much that you don’t even realise Leah has fallen back to sleep until you hear the sound of soft snores beside you, “Pst, Le?” You poke her gently as she continues to sleep, “I can’t tell if you’re pretending to sleep to ignore me or you’ve actually fallen asleep– Well guess I’ll just waffle to myself instead then.”

#woso x reader #woso fanfics #woso imagine #arsenal x reader #woso one shot #scribblesofagoonerr #arsenal women x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #woso #leah williamson x reader #chaos fc reader #chaos fc #monkey #chaos fc masterlist

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ginnysgraffiti · 5 months

Text

dirty thoughts, riding, self-relief, needy

y/n, partner half asleep.

&. KING HAL (HENRY V) x yn.

you were his fabric doll, as he started to call you after the official marriage.

softness, kindness, a giving nature and wisdom; that's how he described you.

hal spent hours worshipping and absorbing every tiny detail about you, and if you only asked, he could go on and on.

he usually got lost in your fair wavy hair, doe eyes, blushed porcelain cheeks and delicate little hands.

"all your grace is in your vagueness, my queen. your soft voice, your manner languid, your features blurred and dreamy." his shooting words waking you up the morning after the marriage.

and then he got lost again in your features, measuring the distance from one freckle to the other, the softness of your lower lip, more evident than the upper one, before primitively undressing you and making the bed creak until small hours.

his place was between your legs, no doubt.

and anyone who dared to lay eyes on you would meet the guillotine the following morning, at the bell's heavy ringing, and you knew it.

but the sticky words of his, sweet like honey, they only dripped down the walls of the royal halls, during boring and long meals, where you represented a public image and inspiration source.

yes, because with you, you and you only, in private, hal was the most alive animal you had ever seen.

and you missed all this.

you missed the taste of his tongue, the heat of his thighs, his overly expert hands and his hungry gaze.

he made you feel so loved, beyond every limit.

now, however, the peace pacts and bloody wars were consuming him to the core, badly scratching his armor, crumbling his tolerance.

you could rarely see hal during the day, and even when you hoped to enjoy his company in the late evening, he was usually too tired or busy checking the artillery.

you felt neglected, even though you knew very well that it wasn't his fault at all.

but now the gazes of the other nobles became more focused on your skin, and the caresses he used to give you left an empty space under the covers.

(...)

one evening, when the flame crackled particularly on the medieval torch on the wall, your steps drew their way towards your room.

the latter creaked slightly, and hal's sleeping figure gave you such a view.

he was shirtless, as always, lying belly up, lost in a deep and calm breath.

you approached the mattress, making sure to not make any noise. you quickly got changed in your pajamas and sat next to him.

something about his position and his presence was awakening something brutal and hot inside your knotted stomach.

you could feel your stomach juices flaring up.

fuck, you needed him.

the sin was now rising to the neurons of your brain, consuming you alive.

you didn't know if he would forgive you, no, but you knew that that was all you had to do.

such dirty thoughts for a queen.

(...)

you found yourself straddling him with only your underwear, you had taken off almost everything. you molded yourself to his pelvis and the hardness you felt between his thighs took your breath away.

you stopped breathing. your eyes widened and you felt your cheeks burning.

you felt his erection quiver under the thin layer of your panties and with an inhibition that was unknown to you and an incessant need to attenuate the devastating heat that you felt between your thighs, you rubbed yourself against him, moving your pelvis dangerously.

faster, faster.

faster.

faster until you could feel yourself soaked.

you could feel his hips bones the more you moved, and your mouth was wide open.

you looked at him hypnotized in his most regal sleep. his perfect face teasing you slowly, in such a perverse way that made you even wetter.

you panted.

the breathing heavy and wet.

no longer able to bear the powerful pulsations between your legs you moved even faster but slowing down every now and then, when small grunts came out of his soft lips.

without even realizing it you were already entertaining yourself, rubbing your fingers against the fabric of your own underwear.

dirty moans filled your ears.

you didn't know what you were doing, but you knew you had never felt better.

"are you going to cum on me so soon?" asked a husky voice in your ear, panting.

fuck.

you couldn't look up, you couldn't allow yourself to sink into your wet perversity like this.

you could barely nod.

an ashamed queen ashamed of her own actions.

how disgusting.

hal grabbed your hips and with one move made you lay on your belly, making you let out a small cry of surprise that you knew would excite him even more. your smells mixed with the spicy ones of the room, the bodies merge. this position made everything more intimate and awkward.

"how naive to think i was really asleep..."

you worshipped him, as if you had a god in your hands, while he slammed you onto the mattress with incredible force.

now you found yourself with your cheek against the pillow and your pelvis raised to the height of his cock. with one hand he grabbed your buttock, he placed the other on the back of your neck to keep you still. you felt dizzy and hot.

he moaned like a caged animal.

you knew he was just holding back and that if you could turn around you would catch a murderous look waiting for you.

the one look you needed to know when he wanted to push himself into you.

he needed.

instantly.

he squeezed your buttocks vehemently and your eyes widened when he gave you a resounding slap on your buttock which made you let out a very powerful scream and which, to your enormous surprise, made you terribly more excited. you felt him lean over you, his massive chest pressed against your thin back. he loomed over your body, brought his mouth close to your ear and, in a husky, sensual voice, murmured, "fuck, i didn't know my queen could have such a twisted mind within these walls."

"i-...i can explain...your majesty...forgive m-"

he pulled your hair to make your back arch and the loudest moan left your wet lips.

your legs trembled in the middle due to your own sound.

how pathetic.

that's just how you were when you needed hal.

"there's no need, just let me fill you up with my cum until my queen is completely satisfied beyond any physical limit. and call me hal, only hal." a soft wet kiss delivered on your shoulder.

"forget your queen duties tomorrow."

the last famous words you fucking craved for so long.

#timothee chalamet #timothee x y/n #timothee imagine #timothee chalamet x reader #timothée chalamet #timothee chalamet x you #&. HAL #&. HENRY V #the king #haltheking #timotheehal #timothéehal #&. HAL x yn #&. HENRY V x yn #&. HAL x reader #&. HENRY V x reader

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annievrse · 1 year

Text

boyfriend!eren headcanons ☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

—ᡣ𐭩 headcanons part 2

boyfriend!eren shoves his fingers in your mouth when you yawn

boyfriend!eren puts his foot into the back of your knee when you’re in line for food

boyfriend!eren buys you said food, only to steal off your plate (sometimes eating half of it)

boyfriend!eren apologises for doing both with his arms locked around you, kisses all over your face until you laugh, and promises he won’t do it again (he does)

boyfriend!eren lays on top of you with his full weight

boyfriend!eren will always drive except when you have to pick him up from sports practice or a night out with the boys (even then he will try and figure out a way to get behind the wheel)

boyfriend!eren lays on your couch and watches videos on his phone, ignoring everyone until you have to literally yank the phone out of his hands to get his attention

boyfriend!eren loves back scratches (and makes you give them to him) but hates giving them back (he’s hopeless, will literally drag his fingers up your back for 0.8 seconds and give up)

boyfriend!eren brings you a bouquet of your favourite flowers every week without question

boyfriend!eren buys you the most childish birthday cards ever, but spends days figuring out what to write inside because he wants to pour his heart out but doesn’t know how

boyfriend!eren writes the most heartfelt messages (essays) inside your birthday cards (you cry at every single one because you can tell he put his soul into it. he doesn't half-ass these ever)

boyfriend!eren tries his absolute hardest to read your favourite book (without your knowledge) so he can talk to you about it

boyfriend!eren will put up a fight about brushing his hair after he washes it, but lets you do it anyway (spoiler: he falls asleep every time)

boyfriend!eren who accidentally loses your pyjamas at his place, so you have to wear his

boyfriend!eren lets you put your music on when sharing earphones (even if he sometimes doesn't particularly like the genre)

boyfriend!eren will pluck the lollipop out of your mouth to put in his own

boyfriend!eren will talk your ear off (literally) for hours about anything and everything because he's bored out of his head (he will talk about the damn trees and the sky for half an hour - that's how bored he is).

boyfriend!eren will text you about the same shit if he's not with you (expect 23 new messages if you haven't checked your phone for 10 minutes <3)

boyfriend!eren will get out of bed at 5am sharp after he watches a david goggins video, trying his darndest not to wake you up (he does, but you don't tell him that, it would hinder his motivation)

boyfriend!eren folds your laundry if he notices it sitting there (he does try his best, and you wouldn't dare refold it, putting it in your drawers or closet as is)

boyfriend!eren whips you with a teatowel in the kitchen after being suspiciously quiet for 2 minutes (he was perfecting his technique)

boyfriend!eren then starts a war (you win because his aim is way off)

boyfriend!eren will sit so close to you on the couch (especially in group settings) that your thighs are flush, and his shoulder is in front of yours

boyfriend!eren admires it when you and armin do puzzles together (he tried, but he got frustrated)

boyfriend!eren will never forget your coffee shop order (even if you aren't there, which leaves him with 2 drinks)

#this is how i see eren because he is a little shit #i want one so bad #eren jaeger #eren yaeger imagine #eren yaeger x reader #eren jaeger imagine #eren jaeger x reader #eren jeager imagines #eren jeager x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren yeager x you #attack on titan imagine #attack on titan x reader #— ann writes!

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syoddeye · 7 months

Text

mistaken identity

Cleaned up an old draft. Shy/introverted gn!reader goes on a blind date. ~2k words. CW: alcohol, a bad pick-up line

"Are you–?"

"Yes! And you must be–?"

"Yeah, yeah."

"So…"

Fantastic, five seconds in, and you're flummoxed. Hard not to be with a guy like John in front of you. His eyes are mirthful, matching his smirk and posture, leaning on the bar beside your seat like he's known you forever. Like he owns the place. Confident with the charm factor set to eleven.

A brief, perfunctory glance gleans the obvious: He's fit. Roughly your age. Solid build, a face with a little facial hair, and arms accentuated by rolled sleeves. Your eyes don't dare venture southward for fear of making your checking him out conspicuous.

When your friend insisted on setting you up, you had doubts. The last two dates she orchestrated went bust. Each man was too loud or too arrogant. It didn't help she said the latest contestant was a handsome sweet talker. A banterer looking for a bit of fun due to his stressful line of work. The fact he was military gave you pause, clearly not enough since you agreed.

As usual, your friend wore down your defenses and got her way, but you swore this was her last chance. She gave you simple instructions: Sit at the bar, wear red, and he'll find you.

"I see I've kept you waitin'," He gestures to the empty tumbler.

You fiddle with the cocktail straw. "No, I just needed something to relax."

A beat slips past, and you fixate on the cardboard coaster beneath your glass. God, you're out of practice. Why did you think this was a good idea? You're a conversation killer. A lifelong introvert, historically too shy to properly date. If he's as charismatic as described, you're done for.

"Nervous?"

Your gaze collides with his - glinting in the low light. "Yes. Have you seen yourself?"

That gets a chuckle out of him, a honeyed sound that eases the tension in your jaw and shoulders.

He quiets, but the grin never slips. His eyes move across your face, reading your features with a laser focus you're accustomed to. "Could say the same thing to you," He murmurs before turning to greet the barkeep.

The whispered remark leaves you mildly surprised. While you miss what he orders, your empty glass vanishes with the promise of a fresh drink on the way.

"Can I?"

"Please."

He takes the empty seat, and repositions slightly to remain angled toward you. "I'm nervous, too."

Another surprise.

"You hide it better than me. Don't suppose that's uh, part of your job?" You ask, hoping his work is not entirely off-limits.

He smirks and shrugs. "S'pose it is. What I do's boring, though. Our friend said you're…an architect?"

You grin and it's your turn to laugh. Not a good listener, noted. "No, I'm a librarian."

His brow lifts, then his gaze narrows, a sheen to his eye that worries you. You've seen this look before from many men who hear 'librarian' and mentally catapult themselves into many ridiculous fantasies. You love the job, hate the creeps and the stereotypes.

"A librarian."

"You heard correctly. And no, I can't give you a reading rec, I'm, uh, off duty."

"Shame, but understandable. Bet you've heard quite a few lines."

You glance away to thank the bartender and take the cocktail, fingers finding the new straw and giving it a quarter stir. "The good, the bad, and the ugly, yes."

"Cheers, thanks," He nods at the bartender and returns his focus, an impish smirk disappearing behind the glass. "What's the ugliest?"

A sip goes down easy, your throat already pleasantly burned by the first. It stirs your courage, giving it the giddy-up it needs. "You really want to know? It's awful."

He leans close, ducking his head and lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. Usually, it'd turn you off, a date imposing on your space this quick, but you can't tear your eyes away. Something magnetic about him.

His head dips, and his free hand beckons rapidly, "Now you're teasing. Let's hear it."

You fight the grin his whisper elicits. You make a show of it, rolling your eyes and taking a swig before you humor him and lean closer. Might as well go for it. "'I bet you can make a paperback hard.'"

He winces. "That is…Yeah, that's ugly. Someone said that to you?"

"It's terrible, right?"

"I could do worse, guarantee."

"Game on, give it your best shot."

The exchange of the most cringeworthy to filthy to hilarious pick-up lines doesn't end even after he signals the barkeep for another round. The night finally feels how you hoped it would be – spirited, lively, and honestly, you feel like a different person in a good way. After breaking the ice, he's one of the easiest people you've ever spoken to. A feat in and of itself, given your poor track record.

When he excuses himself to the lavatory, you text your friend, confirming he found you and things are going well. You set it to silent and slip it away, confident you won't need rescue tonight.

He returns, setting a hand at the top of your shoulders, letting it trail to the small of your back as he sits. You startle at the sensation. A shiver you can't decide if you like or not runs down your back. His hand instantly lifts, raising in surrender, and the smile that's looked assured all evening turns apprehensive.

"Did I misread this? Shit, apologies."

You surprise yourself. "No, no, it's fine. I just haven't…" Haven't been touched like that in ages, you privately admit. It's foolish, your reaction. "I didn't expect it."

"Yeah? How's that?"

"I don't–I don't get this kind of attention often. I don't date. I don't date a lot, that is, but it's cool if you do!" You swiftly take a drink to stop yourself. It's warm here. Was it always this warm?

A chuckle draws you back to him. "Well, don't take this the wrong way, I think you should date more," You must look at him as if he's grown a second head as he continues, "You're a riot, and you're stunning. Clever, too. Could go on, but you seem anxious, and I'd rather make you laugh and more comfortable."

Your chest tightens at the string of compliments. You could crush your glass, you think, with how you're gripping it.

"Think you should date me, specifically. Night's not over, and I want to do this again."

Oh god, you're smitten.

You open your mouth, unsure of what to say, when a lilting voice calls out over the din of the bar.

"Gaz? What're ye doin here? Said ye hated this place!"

A grinning man with a mohawk cuts through the bar. His eyes move from your date and land on you, trailing up and down. At first, it looks like he's unashamedly checking you out, but then his expression falls a fraction.

"Wait. Are ye my date? Thought ye'd be long gone by now given how late I am."

A record scratches in your head. Pause. Who's 'Gaz'? Who's this guy?

Your date turns completely toward the newcomer, mouth hanging open a moment. "Soap? I thought–No, your date's at Foxhole. You told me this morning."

"That's no' right. I've got it in m'phone right here."

While this 'Soap' thrusts a phone into your date's face, your blood runs cold. A particular bit of the conversation with your friend loops through your head.

"You're seriously not even going to give me a full name? A description beyond 'good-looking'?"

"Do you trust me or not? Look. He knows you'll be in red. That's all you need."

You pull out your phone, and your eyebrows rush to meet your hairline. Two missed calls and five messages from the last ten minutes. You swipe through and confirm: She texted to tell you that your date, the real date, was running an hour late due to work. This time, your jaw drops. You glance up to meet his eye, and whatever buzz you felt before dissolves.

"I thought–you're not John?"

"No, I'm Kyle, I assumed–"

"We spoke for forty five minutes and never asked for each other's names?!" The realization bubbles out with a peal of nervous laughter, and you clap a hand over your mouth. Was that as bad as it sounded? Or good, if you were so at ease?

A taut silence hangs between you two for a good five seconds, before you both burst into laughter.

The Scot clears his throat. "Right. Well, I'm no' so thick as tae see what's happenin' here. I'll go stir up trouble elsewhere."

"You sure?" You ask, suddenly feeling guilty. Even if this would not have happened if he'd been on time, the look on his face makes you frown.

He shakes his head, a hand over his heart. "Yer sweet, bonnie, but a man must know when to bow out."

"Thanks, mate," Kyle replies, eyes narrowed in suspicion yet paired with a smile. He claps John on the shoulder.

"Ye owe me, for stealin' such a looker."

Your lip curls, and you watch his mohawked head disappear toward the door. Alone again, you turn to your date. "You should probably check on your actual date."

"On it," He replies with another chuckle, his phone screen lighting up his face. He clicks his tongue, but he looks pleased. "It's weird, but I think they blocked me. Says 'number not found'."

"Their loss," You say quicker than you'd like, and your face heats. A strange turn of events, to be sure, yet it feels serendipitous. "I can't believe this. Were you set up?"

"Yeah, friend of mine. Blind date. Said to look for the person in red and clearly I assumed it was you. Let's start again. I'm Kyle." He offers a hand. It feels silly now, given the near hour of conversation you've shared.

You oblige him, take his hand, and give him yours. "Nice to meet you. For the second time."

Kyle's smile is warm when he repeats your name. He nods at your drinks on the bar. "Buy you another?"

"Please."

Despite the odd intermission, the rest of the evening runs smoothly. He walks you back to yours, the pace slow and meandering. You're not quite ready to invite him in, but you hope there's a next time.

"Can I be honest with you?" You chance, a block away from your place.

"'Course. Let's have it."

"You aren't the kind of man I usually pursue," You laugh when he feigns indignation.

"Really?"

"Really. You're a good looking guy. Normally I need a few shots in me to consider talking to you. Out of my league, that's for sure."

Kyle chuckles, then gently knocks your elbow. "Once again, I could say the same thing to you."

"Oh, stop that." You mutter sheepishly before a hand hooks itself around your wrist. You half-turn to see Kyle wearing an earnest expression, and his thumb rubs a small circle beneath your palm.

"I'm serious. I know I come off as confident but truth is, I'm shit with follow through. I'd've never approached you if it wasn't for the set up. Even if it was, uh, someone else's blind date," His other hand raises as if showing he means no harm, then reaches to tug you forward by your jacket, drawing you close. "I meant what I said earlier. I want to do this again sometime. If you'll have me."

You swallow hard, throat suddenly tight. You look for any sign, any microexpression suggesting this is a dream or, worse, a joke, but find only honesty. "Yeah, okay. A second date sounds nice."

He grins and leans in, giving you plenty of time to pull away, but you meet him. The kiss is sweet, on the more chaste side of the spectrum (for your benefit, you think), and leaves you wanting more.

At your doorstep, you get another. He waits for you to sort out your keys and get inside, but before you close the door, something that's been nibbling at you forces your head back outside.

"Kyle – who did you say your friend was? The one that set you up?"

🧼: Mission accomplished. World-class performance, done and dusted. You owe me a favor.

Kate smiles smugly at the text and chucks a piece of popcorn into her mouth. Always a good feeling to watch pieces fall into place. Two birds, one stone. Her two problem children: An overly shy bookworm with a nasty habit of shooting themselves in the foot on dates, and a silver-tongued know-it-all who needed a strong push. A pair she knew would go well together if the circumstances were just right.

More messages follow.

KG: Was that other person even real? KG: And was Soap in on it? KG: Second date's next week, btw.

Y: You sneaky, devious meddler. Y: He's fucking perfect.

She chuckles, and the body nestled at her side shifts. "What's so funny, babe?"

"Oh, playing matchmaker."

Her wife sighs. "Kate. Not again."

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jjksblackgf · 1 year

Text

too daring for you? | knj (m)

pairing — kim namjoon x reader summary — Namjoon can't keep your roleplaying idea off his head, so he'll make sure to surprise you with it when you least expect it. genre — smut, pwp rate — 18+ word count — 1.9k warnings — explicit sexual content, role playing, oral sex (m receiving), deepthroating, teabagging, manhandling, light degradation, cum eating.

Perfume, check.

Leather jacket, check.

Favorite watch, check.

Tonight, Namjoon was a different man. His night would not be the same as the others. No more boring date nights inside his apartment. Today he’ll go to a nice bar, where you’ll be expecting him. But what you’re not accounting for is his intentions.

Today he’s fulfilling a fantasy. One he’s been intrigued by since you’ve mentioned it. But to pull it off, he has to be his best confident self. Be in his A game and catch you by surprise.

Checking himself in the mirror and everything looks fine, appropriate. Except his expression. He’s not ready for this. He can only think of your request to spice things up. He didn’t know they needed spicing up in the first place.

“I’m living my greatest fantasy right now,” he remembered saying. You two were cuddling in his bed after sex. You were cozied up to his chest, and he ran the tip of his fingers through your naked spine. He was almost purring.

“Cuddling?” you asked, sounding surprised.

“Intimacy,” he answered, giggling at your amazed expression.

“Really?” you checked. “But I can’t say I’m that surprised. You’re always so… intense.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t really think we have sex per se, I see it as passionate love making. You’re fully committed to it.”

“And you’re not?” he asked. Your last sentence had his alarm bells turned on.

“Of course I am, love. Don’t get me wrong.” you shifted in bed, supporting your weight in one elbow to look at his face. “And I love that you’re passionate, and that you’re into all sorts of intimacy.”

“But?” he pressed, trying to stay calm.

“But… I, personally, wouldn’t categorize intimacy as a fantasy. I swear I’m not judging you.”

“Okay…”

“Are you mad?” you asked, and he watched as your brows furrowed in concern.

“What do you consider a fantasy?” he asked, letting his curiosity get the best of him. You just stayed in silence and studied his face, your brows still furrowed. “I’m not mad,” he clarified, making sure his voice sounded calm enough.

He was telling the truth. Mad was not the correct word to describe his feelings. He was a little worried that he wasn’t satisfying you, so he was worried. He wanted you all to himself — soul and body, especially body — and he wanted you to moan how much you belonged to him, so he was possessive. He didn’t even want to think about the possibility of another man finding the weak spots he worked so hard to build, so he was jealous. But mad wasn’t one of them.

You sighed, taking him out of his musings, and you answered sheepishly. “I like roleplaying,” you whispered. He hummed in acknowledgment and changed the subject.

But that night still ran through his mind every time you had sex, and in the ride to that bar he replayed that scene over and over again. He had to know what you were like, who you were, when you didn’t want to be yourself.

That was enough to give him back his confidence in his idea. His curiosity got him into this mess, and it was that same itch that would get him through it.

The slick wood arches over the bar were the first thing to catch his eyes when he entered. The low light above the tables and booths complimented nicely with the black leather chairs. The live band wasn’t half bad with the smooth jazz.

The atmosphere was sexy. He picked right.

He sat on a bar stool and asked for his favorite drink.

“A manhattan for me, please,” he heard a familiar voice say, and he turned around to fall in love with you all over again.

Your smile was big when you looked at his face, and you opened your mouth to start talking, but Namjoon was set on making this night special from beginning to end. After all, he didn’t let you in on his plans for a reason. He wanted to see the desire and lust in your eyes when you realized his idea. Another thing he was curious about.

“Hello, stranger,” he started, offering his hand. When you accepted it, he took it to his lips, planting a sweet kiss there. “I must be pretty lucky to have such a beautiful face sit right next to me.”

“Thank you…” you said. Your tone of voice gave away your confusion, bending at the end, making it sound like a question. Namjoon guessed you were trying to understand his strange behavior.

“Does your pretty face come with a name?” he continued. He was amused by the many emotions running through your face, but he hadn’t quite reached the one he wanted to see the most yet.

“What?” you asked.

“Oh, no worries. I don’t mind a little mystery.” he leaned towards you and took a sip of his drink. “My name is Namjoon by the way. I hope I get to know you better this evening, angel.”

Jackpot.

Your face lit up with understanding, and a sly smile adorned your face.

“You sound intriguing, Namjoon.”

“I could say the same thing about you.” he winked and was pleased when you bit your bottom lip. He made sure the bartender knew he’d pay for the drinks and made a move to leave. “I must leave now. But if you want to have the time of your life, here’s where to find me,” he said.

He handed you a card with the name of a club and some cash for the Uber. “I’ll be waiting for you, angel. I know you won’t disappoint me.” he said, leaning closer to your face and inhaling the scent of your perfume. “Your name is on the list,” he whispered to your ear, before planting another kiss to your earlobe.

Arriving at the club was easy enough. The waiting for you to show up was almost a torture device.

Did he do it right? Did you feel controlled, like he was dominating your decisions? Were you turned on by the idea? At the end, after he handed you the card, was the glint in your eyes just residue from the surprise? Or did you feel your stomach flutter, much like his own heart was beating out of his chest?

The possibilities were endless.

But it was like you had a neon sign pointed directly at you. He could see your face as you looked for him in the crowd. He took a sip of his drink. Should he go after you, or should he let you find him? He twitched in his seat, his leg bouncing. He must do something.

But alas, there you were.

Eyes still filled with fascination. Your lips parted as you two made eye contact, and Namjoon watched you in awe. Shoulders back, and hips moving side to side, inviting him to glare, to stare, to inappropriately lick his lips. He watched every second of your hands as they ran through your body, touching all the places he knew you liked to be kissed. Your neck, your navel, the curve of your hips.

Dancing for him. A show just for him. Other people get to watch and envy him. But he’s the only one that can touch.

Intimacy be damned. He liked this fantasy better.

You curled your fingers, inviting him to dance. He didn’t have to think twice.

He didn’t recognize himself. The Namjoon of yesterday wouldn’t do such a thing. Too timid to dance like this in public. To grab his partner by the waist and ogle at his favorite body parts. But you changed him. Reached his genetic makeup and twisted it to your liking.

He liked it too.

He didn’t last more than a song underneath your touch. Your hands ran upwards through his body, but before they could reach his neck and fist his hair, Namjoon was already kissing you. It was urgent, it was inappropriate, it was too damn sexual. He was sure he’d leave the club with a boner.

His tongue unceremoniously intertwined with yours, and his hands grabbed your ass with fervor. You weren’t so cute either. Namjoon remembered you were in a public setting when your hands reached the front of his pants.

He stopped your search, holding your wrists behind your back.

“Not here, angel,” he said, panting.

“I know where,” you offered, twisting your wrists so you’d be hauling him around the club.

You reached the bathrooms, and you shoved him inside before a line could form behind you. Before he could ask about your intentions, you pushed him against the wall, kissing him again. He allowed himself to go further, biting your neck and leveraging his position to grind his groin against your abdomen.

“Fuck, I can’t take this,” you said, dropping to your knees and opening his zipper.

His cock was already hard when you wrapped your mouth around him. He moaned your name repeatedly as you massaged his length in synchronicity with your lips. He moaned even louder when his tip reached the back of your throat. Your gag reflex made your throat even tighter, and he wanted to scream your name.

But of course you had to surprise him, using his length to slap your face and tongue, and putting pressure around his base. And that was enough for him to be overwhelmed by his instincts. He grabbed a chunk of your hair with one hand and secured your jaw open with the other, inserting himself in and out as he pleased.

He thrusted his hips once more, as far as your mouth would allow. He wanted to feel your throat closing around his tip again. He only let you up for air after you tapped his thigh. But he wasn’t done being rough. The trail of saliva left between his dick and your tongue inspired him even further.

“Open your mouth,” he demanded, his voice almost an octave lower, and you obliged with a smile. He spit on your tongue before placing his testicles inside your mouth. Between the warmth of your tongue and his agile hands, he was close. “Fuck,” he moaned, inserting his dick in your mouth one last time before climax overpowered him. “I want to see you swallow it,” he asserted, already adjusting his pants.

You did as he asked and opened your mouth showing your tongue to prove it. Your smile was as big as he’d ever seen. If he knew you’d be this wild, he wouldn’t have been so reluctant to comply with your wishes.

“Good,” he said, taking a deep breath and helping you get to your feet.

Before you could say anything, or even better, go home to finish the night, there was a banging on the bathroom door.

When Namjoon opened it, he was met with a security guard, followed by an irritated manager.

“Oh, goody,” the manager said, taking a look around Namjoon to find you hiding behind him.

“Would you two please step aside? The bathroom is off limits from certain activities. I’m gonna have to escort you out of the premises.”

“Sure, that’s no problem.” Namjoon didn’t turn around to look at you. He just squeezed your hand as you two walked out of the club, but he knew your whole body was burning from embarrassment. “Well, there’s a story to tell our grandkids,” he joked once you two were on a cab headed home.

“If you tell them any of this, I will slowly poison you,” you threatened. “But I do need to tell them how amazing you are in all aspects,” you gushed, hugging his neck. “Thank you for tonight.”

“Anytime, angel.”

#bts x reader #rm x reader #namjoon x reader #bts smut #namjoon smut #bangtanbathhouse #btsafterdarknet

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