#i stress that nothing else in that comic happened

[astroboots]

Rainy Night Patrol

CO-WRITTEN WITH @THIRSTWORLDPROBLEMSS

Summary: Miguel comes home after a night of patrolling with a lot of pent up tension to find you sound asleep.

Content: Somnophilia, panty-tearing practises (in this fucking economy?!??! I know gurl) jerking off with panties kind of? overprotective Miguel is our favourite Miguel. Rough sex. Multiple orgasms and overstimulation (cause do I evern write anything else anymore?). Implied violence against random street criminals.

A/N: Pre-established relationship with pre-established consent for somnophilia.

Word Count: 4,800

Astroboot’s Masterlist | Thirstworldproblemss’ Masterlist | Spiderverse Masterlist

Rainy nights in New York are the fucking worst.

It brings out the worst in people. Stressed-out bankers who will push old ladies out of their way to get to a seat on the subway. Drunken assholes who piss everywhere, making everything reek, and alleyway mugging seems to increase by a disproportionate amount whenever it's pouring.

It surprises Miguel that street robbery even happens outside of comic books anymore. Do these people not have a computer? Cybercrime is a thing. A successful phishing scam targeting a bank employee can net millions overnight.

Yet here Miguel is, headbutting this public nuisance for trying to rob and assault a sorority girl on her way home, fists eating into the man's face. Even though it is evident by now that there is no way the man has a fighting chance, he refuses to stop. He's hissing and spitting at Miguel, lunging at him with the ferociousness of a rabid racoon.

The easiest solution would be to bite and paralyze and call it a night. But from the reek of stale sweat and copious body Axe spray coming off of this asshole, Miguel has no desire to put any part of this man's body into his mouth.

So here Miguel is, putting this bargain-bin Sylvester Stallone wannabe in a headlock and slamming his head into a street lamp in an attempt to knock the man unconscious, instead of where he wants to be: home, in your questionably sized apartment and lumpy feeling bed.

Christ, he hates this city.

By the time it's all said and done, and everything is wrapped up, it's already past midnight. As he slinks in through the window sill into your bedroom, you're fast asleep.

You're lying on top of the quilts, the bedside lamp still on, which means you've been up waiting for him, even though you're supposed to have an early morning tomorrow. Something, something about how it's year-end and you have to present... something or the other.

It's... endearing that you still do that, try to wait up for him every night, even though you should know by now that more often than not, he'll be home much too late for you to still be awake.

Climbing inside the bedroom, the post-fight adrenaline is still surging through his veins. He's riled up, irritated. There's heat brandishing under his skin that is pushing at the edges begging for an outlet.

He glances in your direction. You look so soft in the dim bedroom light, half of your face buried into the pillow.

No, tonight is not the night. You need your sleep.

With a shake of his head, he walks over to his side of the bed, letting the Unstable Molecule fabric of his suit recede until he's left standing naked in the half-darkness of your bedroom.

Dragging away the sheet, he tucks it over you, you hum and shift in your sleep. Leg swinging Akimbo over to his side before he's even had the chance to lay down. The oversized sleep shirt does nothing to disguise the curves of your body, falling completely off one shoulder and riding up to reveal the tantalizing curve of your bare thigh.

Shit.

His mouth waters at the sight, cock half hard just from watching you. It's not helped by the adrenaline still buzzing in his head. It wouldn't take much to get him the rest of the way there.

Miguel groans and rubs the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the tension growing between his temples. How exactly is he supposed to be getting any sleep with you lying next to him, all soft heat and sweet little hums that make him want to grind up against you like a cat in heat?

The weight in the bed shifts as you roll back away from him. A quiet snore issues from where you’re digging your face deeper into the pillow, clearly exhausted. 

Fuck, guess he's just going to have to try. It'd be cruel to wake you now.

He slides into bed next to you, settling for the comforting warmth of you next to him, as he curls one arm around your waist and wraps himself around you. Burying his face into the warm nape of your neck and taking a deep inhale. The smell of your shampoo and soap that pleasantly lingers on his skin, washes away the memories of the stench of rain-soaked streets of this city, the disgusting smell of sulphur and piss.

New York throws a lot of stuff in his way. Muggers, arsonists, would-be murderers. It's nothing he can't handle. And he can handle what it throws at you too. Whether it is torrential rain or some freak force of nature threatening to put you in harm's way, it doesn't matter. He keeps you safe.  And despite all the close calls, you're still here. Still alive. Still his.

His hand slides over the curve of your thigh at the thought, needing to feel your warmth underneath his fingertips. Goosebump prickles your skin at his caress, and he watches the way your back arches, pressing into his touch, even in your sleep.

A slow steady warmth blooms in his chest at your reaction. It's a heady blend of protectiveness but also pride. The universe itself can throw any tantrum it wants. He'll protect you from it all.

Your eyes stay shut, still clearly asleep, but your mouth parts with a needy hum, and Miguel gives you what you want, easing your body back into his arms. Like clockwork, you snuggle back against him, and the slight wiggle of your ass brushing against his front ensures there's no half about how hard is dick is anymore.

Needy heat rolls off his back in waves, and he slides one hand under the hem of your shirt and up along the softness of your stomach. If you were awake, you would be leaping away and smacking him for tickling you. But now the touch just makes you stretch and let out a contented little hum, your nipples already drawn up tight and hard for him by the time he reaches them.

Why are you so reactive when you're sound asleep? Part of him thinks you must be doing this on purpose; there's no way you can't be when he feels you shift again, the soft lace of your panties brushing up against his aching cock.  He palms your hip, following the edge of the lace down over the curve of your ass, then hesitates.

You only pull out the lacey panties when you really want to rile him up. Saving them for special occasions because (as you never fail to mention while scolding him whenever he's ripped another pair in the heat of the moment) 'fancy underwear isn't cheap!' One of these lacey thrilly little things easily would set you back at $80 a pop. Miguel isn't exactly hard pressed for cash, but he sees your point.

Still Miguel doesn't know what he is supposed to do when you keep pressing back against him the way you are at the moment. He grits his teeth, jaw muscles protesting as he grinds them together, knowing fully well he's fighting a losing battle. It’s really only a matter of time. Miguel isn't a fucking saint, and right now the need riding the length of his spine is burning hot enough to incinerate him.

Oh fuck it!

Hooking a finger around the hem of your panties, he eases them to the side, and his hips hitch forward, rubbing himself against you. Sharp pleasure skitters along his back, and he has to bite down the groan in his throat. He draws back, and does it again, letting his cock ride along the curve of your ass. Letting his aching, leaking cock settle between your cheeks, the delicate lace trapping him in place against you.

You’re definitely gonna bitch at him later for stretching out the elastic. But that's okay, you'll forgive him, the way you always do.

He holds there, gently rolling his hips, doesn't go too forceful or too eager with his thrusts, some half-formed intention to not wake you. Thighs shaking as he savors the contrast between your smooth skin and the textured lace. He tells himself that he should take it slow and not disrupt your sleep. But Miguel's never been a patient man.

His hands are already moving, reaching, before his brain has anything to say about it, fingers hitching your panties even further to the side, and fuck the elastic, he'll buy you a new pair. Shit, he'll buy you twenty new pairs. A whole fucking store of panties if that's what you want.

He pulls back, presses forwards again, cock sliding between those plush thighs, the head, slick with precome, gliding smoothly against you.

And fuuuuuck.

He drops his forehead against your shoulder, eyes squeezing shut to ground himself. He can feel how wet you are, drenching his cock as he skims the hard length over and through your slick folds. You're warm and inviting and oh so fucking tempting. You may still be fast asleep, but your body is telling him it’s oh so very ready for him.

God you feel so fucking good.

Angling his hips, he slides the sensitive head of his dick against your slick folds, notching himself against your entrance, gritting his teeth against the way your pretty pussy clenches at the threat of invasion. He holds himself there, breath hissing between his teeth as he teases you both, with tiny, incremental movements forward, in, and back.

Pleasure swirls through him, hot and heady, his ears buzzing with electricity. He's lost in it, but not so far gone that he misses the noises you're making, your reaction. Those little sounds of dissatisfaction, the way your back arches, pressing your hips back against him.  All of it telling him the same thing.

He presses his mouth to the corner of your shoulder. Has to hide the feral grin threatening to break out, because for all his vague intentions of letting you rest, part of him has been waiting for this. Part of him has been aiming for this exact outcome.

You. Awake. Fully ready to take him.

He presses forward again, just far enough that the head of his cock slips inside you, and is rewarded by your body clenching warm and wet around him.

Fuck, you feel too good. You always fucking do. It punches the breath right out of his lungs, needy heat singing through his veins and along every nerve ending in his body until he goes dizzy with it. There are advantages and disadvantages to enhanced senses, and right now, he's fully feeling both. Needs to get on with it, because he intends to have you coming on his cock at least twice before he's done.

Hooking an arm around your waist, he cups your mound. He stays there, pressing with his fingers and the heel of his palm, until he's rewarded by your hips hitching forward into the pressure, then rocking back again, causing you to sink down further onto him. A gasp and a small soft moan falls from between your lips.

He does it again, encouraging you to rock forward and then back again, taking him deeper each time. Inch by brain wracking inch, you take him in. He can feel your tight little pussy stretch around him, adjusting to his cock, as he presses your hips back and back and back until you're taking him all down to the root. Until he’s buried as deep as he can go.

Somehow it's not enough. Not when he's waited this long.

He centers three fingers over your clit through the lace of your panties, resting the heel of his hand just above your pubic bone, and then he presses down.

Your pussy clenches tight, and you jolt hard against him, gasping awake with a breathy 'oh' that does funny things to his brain. Makes rational thought skitter away from him, and when he hears his name on a long gorgeous drawn out moan everything inside him roars to attention.

"Miguel."

Satisfaction thrums under his skin. You’re awake, and he wants you awake for this. Wants you to know exactly who is about to fuck your brains out.

"That's right, nena," he croons, easing his hips back, and skimming his lips up from your shoulder to nip at your exposed neck, careful not to break the skin, relishing the sound of the perfect little gasp of yours. "I'm right here. You ready for my big cock, baby?"

"It– mmmmmm– It feels…" you mumble, voice still stumbling and sleepy.

He slams back into you just as you're trying to find your words, taking a bit too much pleasure in interrupting them when he hears you whine out a breathy, "Fuck, fuck!"

"What's that?" Miguel raises a hand to your chin, cradling it in his palm, tilting you back until he can press his lips to the edge of your jaw. "What does it feel like, tell me."

"Fee-feels like– ngh– like I'm already– taking your big cock." Your words are staggered, stuttered out each time he fucks his cock into you, and Miguel smiles.

"You are," he tell you, "You're taking me so well, nena."

It's a struggle for him to get the words out smoothly. He’s rolling his hips at a steady pace, fucking you in earnest now that you're awake to appreciate it. Every slick slide into your needy little pussy has pleasure burning sharp and insistent through his nervous system, overwhelming and inescapable.

He pauses, moving his hand away from your clit for a second, and grins when you whine and clutch at his arm.

"Patience," he scolds you "I've got you. I'm just gonna..."

He tucks his hand under your panties, and you stiffen against him, making a sound like an outraged cat. He knows exactly what you're going to say even before the words leave your lips, so he ignores you, sliding his fingers along the boundary where you're stretched so wide around the base of him, getting them nice and slick.

"You didn't take off my panties!? Miguel, these are my good wuh– oh fuck."

The words cut off when he locates your hard little clit, settling two fingers over it this time, one on each side, the way he knows always drives you crazy.

"What was that, nena?" he bites back a smile, "Something you wanted to say, huh?"

You suck in a breath, but he doesn't give you a chance to answer, fucking into you hard, and wastes no time resuming his former rhythm. The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a broken moan.

"Sorry, baby," he teases, "I didn't quite catch that."

You don't answer. There's no way you're going to, not with the way your body is drawing up tight, gasping for breath as if he's driving every last ounce of oxygen from your lungs.

He knows your body as well as he knows his own, and he has you caught now, like spider with a fly in its web. He keeps holding you tight against him, hips angled to drive up against just the right spot inside you, the one that has you sobbing and clawing at him with every thrust, each one forcing you forward against the fingers he has bracketing your sensitive little clit.

No more words from that smart mouth of yours now, only gasps and whimpers and cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name.

You're clawing at his forearm, breath stuttering in and out of your lungs in staggered gulps. Your heart beating loud and fast and alive in your chest, and he can tell that you're close now. He can feel it in the way your tight little pussy clenches and quivers around him, clutching at his cock like it wants to hold him close, closer, closest.

"Mi– Mi– Mig–" The sound stutters out of you in time with his thrusts, high pitched and desperate—cut-off moans that might be the first syllable of his name, more whine than words. Pride swells in Miguel's chest at seeing you, hearing you like this, strung out and stuttering on his cock, begging him for your pleasure.

Pleasure that only he can give you.

"That's right, nena." He fucks into you hard. Can feel you clench around him relentlessly.

"I'm right here."

You're squeezing him so goddamned tight.

"Fucking you."

It takes everything in him to hold to the same angle, the same pace. To give you just what you need, the way only he can give it to you.

"Making you come," he bites out.

You writhe against him, whining louder now, sweet noises growing higher pitched.

"Come for me, nena," he demands, and you shudder against him, your voice rising into a wail.

Your hot little cunt clamps down tight, fluttering around him, and bright spots of pain bloom into pleasure as your fingernails dig into his arm, drawing blood. Your pretty eyes flutter shut as the whole of your body tenses under him.

Fuck, you're coming.

"That's– fuck– That's it," he grits out, slowing his thrusts, rocking against you gently to help draw out your orgasm. To buy himself a freaking second so you don’t take him over the edge with you. He keeps the soft rolling rhythm until the wracked shivers seizing your body settles. Counting down the seconds until the grip of your nails into his biceps is easing, and then…

"Again," he demands, snapping his hips forward, fucking into you hard, "Come for me again, nena."

Miguel locks his arm in place, holding you at the angle that will let him hit that perfect spot inside you every time, the one that makes your eyes roll back in your head, and he intends to have you seeing stars. He hears your breath leave you with a strangled noise, feels your pussy clench tight and perfect around his cock, and grins through gritted teeth.

If he times it juuuust right, he can send you over the edge a second time. He's done it before, forcing you into another orgasm before you've even come down from the first, and he’s not above using his enhanced reflexes to make you do it again.

And right now? The way you're writhing against him, hands and arms and pussy clutching at him, like you're trying to pull him closer—pull him in, despite the fact that he's already fucking you as deep as he can go. All of that tells him his timing was spot-fucking-on today.

It doesn't take long. It never does when he makes you come this way. And thank fuck for that, because the feel of you clenching around him is almost enough to take him over the edge with you. He has to grit his teeth as he slows to the gentle rocking rhythm you like best when you’re coming. His free hand fisting in the bed sheets, claws digging into them in a way he knows will earn him another scolding later. But R.I.P. your damn linens. Better them than him. You may have come twice, but Miguel's not ready to be done with you just yet.

This time, when you come down, he keeps things slow and gentle until you go loose and boneless. Forces himself to slows further until every muscle in your body melts under his grip. You sink down into the mattress with a little sigh, like you're ready to drift back off to sleep just like this, safe and snug in his arms, his hard cock still buried inside of you.

And if he wasn't so hard up, skin crawling with need and desperation, maybe he'd let you.

But that’s not happening tonight.

Unfortunately for you, Miguel's too hungry for you. Starving. Wants to lick and bite and swallow you down to the very marrow of your bones. 

He's been good. He's been patient. Has held himself back while he made you come. Twice. Satisfaction burns bright in his chest, almost as bright as his need for you. Two fucking times he's gritted his teeth, holding back his own orgasm by the skin of his fucking fangs as that pretty little pussy came around his cock, squeezing him so tight that for a second he was sure he'd black out and see god behind his eyelids.

Miguel is out of patience. 

Any intention to go easy on you because you need the rest is gone. Any consideration for your early morning tomorrow has flown the nest.

Hands on each side of your hips, he rolls the two of you, easily flipping you forward onto your stomach and drags you down along the bed. You stay limp and relaxed, as you let him move you like a ragdoll, positioning you the way he wants, head and chest resting against the matress, ass in the air.

Once he's got you where he wants you, he takes just a second to admire you, taking in the way those pretty lace panties highlight the curves of your ass but do nothing to conceal your slick center, pulled to the side as they are, leaving your pussy fully exposed, all pretty and puffy from how well he's fucked you and glistening in the low light.

You shiver under his heavy gaze, and he can see the way your pussy clenches, can see how wet you are, shining slick, halfway down your thighs.

Miguel must've taken too long with his one second. A soft inquisitive "hmmmmm?" emerges from where your head is buried in the pillow, and you rock your hips gently side to side.

His dick jerks at the obvious invitation. Precome oozes from the tip, and he takes himself in hand, lets himself stroke once to spread it along his length, as though he wasn't dripping with you already.

"What's that, nena?" he bites out. He's so fucking hard for you, cock aching from holding back, but even now, he can't help but tease and goad you. "You want more? You didn't get fucked good enough already? Does that pretty pussy want my cock?"

"Mmmmm.... yes," you say, one hand outstretched behind you, making a 'gimme' motion at him.

The gesture is ridiculous, but he can't help the way it makes his chest pull tight. You're always so ready to have him, no matter how much he tires you out. Suddenly, he can't wait another fucking second to be inside you again. 

He starts to line himself up, the wet heat of you just kissing the head of his dick when you tense up and make a sound of alarm. Fear stings his spine, and he freezes.

"You okay, nena?" he asks, pulling away from you, suddenly terrified that he's hurt you somehow.

Miguel has always been big—even before the "accident" that changed him—and he's bigger now, exponentially stronger.  He’d thought he was being careful, but fuck, it'd be all too easy for him to let his strength get away from him, to go harder than you can handle.

"Are you hurt? Was I- Was I too rough?"

Because he forgets sometimes. Forgets that others don't heal at an accelerated rate like he does. That your body isn't protected by enhanced endurance that lets him walk off falling from a building, barely feeling the six broken ribs and fractured arm that results.

It's why he needs to protect you. 

Always. 

Unlike him, you can be hurt. Can be broken, can be killed. And if he’s hurt you, then he–

You make a negative sound, shaking your head.

  "No, you big doofus," you mumble out into the pillow, and Miguel's heart slowly starts to ease its way out of his throat. "The panties. Take them off first. Don't want them to tear."

He stops, blinking in confusion as his eyes narrow down at you.

Your. Fucking. Panties!?

Really? His mouth curls down into a peeved frown. That's your fucking priority right now? After he's fucked you silly, made you come twice the way only he can?

"You want me to take your panties off, nena?" he demands, tone low and harsh, edging forward on the bed until he’s looming over you.

"Yes," you confirm. "They’re my last good pair." You’re nodding your head energetically in a way that tells him he hasn't done nearly as good of a job of tiring you as he thought. He’ll have to fix that.

With a snarl, he lances the crotch of your panties with a single claw, ripping them off your body.

"Miguel!" you squeak, clearly not expecting that, your voice pitched with disbelief, "Did you just–?"

"They were in the way," he manages to rasp out, lining himself up and pressing forward, unceremoniously shoving inside.

The tight, hot clench of your pretty pussy is blindingly good. It always fucking is. And just like always, Miguel is lost to it. He holds there, buried as deep in you as he can get, shuddering against you. He's damn lucky that extraordinary stamina comes bundled along with super-senses, or he'd probably come every damn time he slips inside you. It'd be all over at the first thrust.

Fuck, he has to move. He pulls out, and you gasp and claw at the sheets, shuddering under him as he starts to fuck you again. Obscene wet, squelching sounds fill the room, along with the echoing slap of flesh on flesh as he fills you over and over and over. You’re so fucking wet, so fucking perfect. He grits his teeth, trying to get a handle on the feeling, but it’s overwhelming. 

Your hot, perfect little pussy clenches and flexes around his dick, and a blissful burn sears against his spine, streaking white and hot with pleasure. A tell-tale sign, warning him of what's to come if he doesn't stop. He sucks in a breath, trying to stave it off, barely hanging on to his control by the tips of his claws because he wants to feel you come around him one more time.

Because twice isn’t enough. Three times won’t be either. Nor would four, five, ten. Miguel’s greedy for you. Selfish. No matter how much you give him, it will never be enough. He will always want more of you.

More of your soft body pressed up against every inch of his. More of your eyes looking back at him, glazed over as if you have no coherent thoughts left in that pretty head of yours. He wants all of that and more. Another orgasm. Another fuck. Another kiss. One more breath. Just more, more, more.

He curls his hand around your throat, feels the chaotic race of your pulse under his fingertips.

"Come for me, nena," he demands, "I need it. Need to feel you." 

He tilts your face up, your back arched like a bow towards him. So fragile. So trusting, that you let him do this to you. 

He dips down to claim your lips, snapping his hips into yours faster now. Ramping up the pace as he chases his inevitable climax, forcing you to yours. 

You whimper and keen with each thrust, eyes rolling wildly. Your mouth hangs open, panting out sweet, stuttered moans that he swallows in a bruising kiss. Your whole body tenses under him, going rigid, then your pretty pussy starts clenching down around him as you come again.

This time, Miguel can't hold himself back. Doesn't even try. Lets himself succumb to the sight, the sounds, the smell, the feel of you surrounding him, coming for him. His stomach draws in tight, toes curling into the sheets, as he can feel his balls drawing up, cock swelling further as he manages a last few ragged thrusts. Then he’s tumbling over the edge with you, burying himself as deep as he can as the unforgiving bliss rises and spreads, blotting out everything else.

It's endless. Pulses after devastating pulse that won't stop. He comes and comes and comes, emptying himself inside of you until he's lightheaded, barely able to hold himself.

No amount of supernatural stamina can help him in this moment. Not when he can feel his spend filling you to capacity and more, so full that it starts leaking out of you, down the line of your thighs and onto his. His strength gives out, and he collapses into the bed, bringing you down with him.

The two of you lay there, trying to catch your breath. You’re trapped under his weight, your small back heaving under his larger chest, sweat slicking your skin to his. He has no desire to move. Shifts slightly to the side, a concession to your need to breathe, but refuses to go farther than that. He wants to keep you right here, covered and cocooned by his body. 

You tilt your head until you can peek over your shoulder at him. There's a look in your eyes, one that he has only ever seen on you. One just for him, filled with exasperated fondness, heat and loving familiarity. One he wouldn’t give up for anything.

"You're getting me new panties."

A warm huff of laughter escapes him. The bright warm glow in his chest spreads outwards, filling him with contentment.

"Sure, nena."

"And coffee in the morning," you add.

He hums in agreement because that's fair. You're going to be in zombie mode otherwise.

"And cupcakes for breakfast," you finish triumphantly.

Miguel turns his head to observe you, the way you're trying to hide that satisfied grin into the pillow to not betray how fucking over the moon you are right now after he's fucked you silly.

Smartass. Always pushing your damn luck. But it's not like he's going to ever say no to you is it?

He puts on a show of sighing loudly with mock exasperation. "From Gladis, yeah?”.

You nod into your pillow.

"Mmhmm."

He leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, circling his arm around your waist, easily pulling you to his side.

The rain is still pouring down outside, but here in bed with your warm body pressed up against his side, the sound of it pitter-pattering against the window is almost soothing. He can feel his eyes slipping closed as it lulls him off to sleep. 

The rain isn’t so bad when you’re warm and safe in his arms. Nothing is, as long as you’re here with him. 

He’ll keep you safe. 

Always.

Credits and Dedications: I have to give so so so so much credit to my clown-in-crime @thirstworldproblemss poor woman doesn't even go here, and spent the whole of her evening writing porn to me in my DMs. 90% of the porny parts have been written by her. So for all those who enjoyed this, please go to her inbox and send her much deserved love!!!

I don’t have a tag list but please follow me on astroboots-writes and turn on notifications to be notified when I post something new!

#miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara smut #miguel o'hara fic #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara fanfic #miguel o'hara fanfiction #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #spider man 2099 #spiderverse fanfiction #miguel ohara x you #marvel #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara fic

[theweasleytwinsownmyjuicyass]

Wait for you Pt.2 | L.N.

Lando Norris x reader

Summary: Nothing can stand between true love. But what if said love is taken from one's memory?

Warnings: angst, fluff:3

Word count: ~4.9K

A/N: Hello hello! I have finally got aroud to finishing this piece! Hope ya'll enjoy it <3

Lando could not concentrate, not for more than a sentence before his mind was once again playing you as his favourite movie.

Your smile, your eyes it all felt too good to be true and lord… the kiss. Lando had to physically restrain himself every time his mind went there. All he wanted was to run out of this room full of people talking about plans for the upcoming race and just run to you.

His skin was itchy and on fire from waiting for your touch. Now that you’ve given him a dose, given him hope, he was hooked with anticipation for more.

After the conference everyone dispersed into their own rooms except for Lando who followed Oscar to his driver’s room.

“Oscar you will not believe what happened!” Lando giggled as he closed the door.

Thus began the recollection of the touching moment on the roof top with you.

“- and then I asked her out and she said yes, and even gave me a kiss on my cheek before I entered the conference room! Can you imagine that Oscar?! She kissed me!” excitement was pooling around Lando’s lower lash line.

Oscar had forgotten what a truly happy Lando looked like and no matter how tired he was now, he did not want to be anywhere but right here on the uncomfortably tough sofa, listening to his friend talk about his love, especially because that love was you.

“Well that sounds like good news mate, where are you gonna take her by the way?” Oscar watched the life drain from Lando’s face as the excitement for the rendezvous converted to pure stress of the situation.

“Oh my God?! Where am I going to take her?!” Lando started pacing around the small room in circles making Oscar feel positively dizzy just from following Lando with his eyes.

“HELP ME OSCAR!” The older male pulled at his own hair out of sheer desperation for someone else’s input.

“Well just take her where you’ve taken her before, it’ll help her jog the memory,” Oscar answered calmly, rubbing his eyes. Lando’s pacing really did make him dizzy.

“Wait, that’s actually a really good idea. She loved our first date, she was never tired from talking about it,” Lando‘s eyes sparkled with the memory of your hands wrapping around his every time you told someone about your first date. Those were the moments when Lando understood just how deeply he felt for you and how you loved him just as much.

“Exactly. Everything is gonna work out, I can feel it,” Oscar laid an encouraging hand on his teammates shoulder. If reassurance was what Lando needed, Oscar will be there to provide.

The next few days at the paddock were filled with shy glances and giggles as the date spurred the two to secure their connection. Your laughter was never ending as so were Lando’s bright smiles. It seemed that every sentence Lando could think of sounded like the funniest joke to your ears.

While Oscar explained their upcoming race schedule to Lando, comically unbeknownst to him, Lando’s eyes were trained only on one person, as for all his attention too.

“What do you think about that Lando?” Oscar looked into the eyes of his friend only to find his point of attention trained behind himself rather than at him.

As he turned to find the culprit of Lando’s attention, he found no one else but you perched on a counter, lit up by the golden evening sun. Lando giggled as you waved at him and lifted his hand to wave back at you, both of your blushes ever-growing.

“Oh c’mon man, we’ve been through this!” Oscar’s eyes rolled back into his skull.

Damn these two love birds. As much as Oscar was thrilled for his friends once again being together the shy-giggly faze is just as annoying as it was a year ago.

You winked at Lando and he almost lost his stance.

“Really?” Oscar signs.

“She’s flirting with me!” Lando became defensive clutching his chest.

“Mate she’s literally your girlfriend…”

“Yeah, but she doesn’t know that,” Lando’s smile never left his face as he watched your eyes focus back on the book that lay rested on your thighs.

In that moment something clicked for Lando. Life is truly as good as it can get. All uncertainty has been washed away by hope. It truly felt like you were healing him with every single glance. Perhaps it was just Lando’s imagination but whenever he met your eyes they were yours, he knew those eyes and for the first time in a long time Lando could let himself cry out of happiness when thinking of you. The clouds have dispersed, with each passing day you remembered more and said things that would make Lando stop in his tracks.

Lando no longer needed to look for you, because you were already there…

The over-packed luggage bag fell out of your hands at the sweet sight of a white fluffy bed. Lord knows you wasted no time jumping into the bed after kicking your shoes off at the door.

“Ughhh, this is heaven,” your voice was muffled by numerous pillows, but Lando still heard it clearly.

“I’m gonna set up my sim here, okay?” He asked, unsure if you wished for him to leave or stay. After all sleep was what you favoured over anything.

“Yeah it’s no problem, you know I don’t mind you being around,” you lifted your head slightly and shot him a smile.

“You’re the best!” Lando smiled in excitement and in a few minutes the desk area of the hotel bedroom became a sim racing corner.

“cute,” you admired the man only loud enough for yourself to hear.

It felt like only a couple seconds had passed before Lando was once again calling your name.

“Y/nnnn, are you sleeping?” His eyes met your half lidded ones. Gosh you looked cute, all sleepy… and so kissable.

“I am now,” you yawned the words out, eyes not yet fully open.

“Good, you better not be sleeping, I need you to see me win this,” his concentration in the game never faltered even with you on his mind.

“Don’t worry I’m awake,” you yawned once again making Lando chuckle. “You know, you could just wake me up when you finish and tell me the result?”

“Nooo,” he whined, “I need you to watch me win. Are you watching me?” He turned back for a second just to make sure you were behind him.

And you were. You were sitting there wrapped in a blanket, eyes big and oh so soft. You were there with him and that was all he ever needed.

You climbed out of the bed and stood behind him, hands in his hair and a kiss on his temple to which he let out a satisfactory sigh. ”You’re going to win Lan, I know you can.”

“I’ll only win if you’re by my side, love.” He crossed the finish line and turned around kissing you deeply before you could even congratulate him. His hands were quick to hook under your thighs, your warm skin tickling his fingers. He picked you up effortlessly, nestling the both of you into the bed that had already soaked up the scent of your floral perfume. It’s the same one he gifted you on your last birthday.

Your hands tangled around him, pulling him closer until you breathe the same air. His eyes were glossy, pupils dilated to a point where you could barely see the storm of green and blue. Your fingertips draged across his soft skin and to his silky curls. He was everywhere and you hoped it always stayed that way.

You’re still drunk on quality sleep when the morning light pulled you out of the peaceful slumber. Your hands instinctively reached out to the other side of the bed ghosting over the empty mattress, “Lan?”

A pout formed on your lips as you found the bed empty and void of any and all warmth.

Suddenly your eyes shot open but then again closed up, pain of the bright lighting residing in your retina.

You turned to your left side. Empty bedside. No Lando.

You felt yourself swimming in confusion. Your memories mixing with moments unseen before.

Was I dreaming? Dreaming of Lando in my bed? Quite puzzling indeed. 

But what puzzled you most was that you were in Spain, but Lando was not in your bed.

That revelation, for some unknown reason, did not sit well with you.

Overwhelmed you sat up on the bed, trying so hard to understand why for the love of god you were looking for Lando in your bed.

Why would Lando be here? Why was he in my dream? Was it really a dream?

You got off the bed and started looking for any clues that the dream was not actually a dream but reality.

Although the only thing you found is yourself feeling something for Lando Norris you had not felt before.

Dream or reality? This only served to confuse your heart further.

Your eyes caught the clock on the wall, a clear sign that you should hurry as the slender black arrow was about to meet the number seven.

Today was a free day for the grid. That meant that you were to meet Oscar and Lando in the hotel gym and later head for a complimentary breakfast with the two.

Hanging at the gym with them was not as fun as most imagine. Without their active energy being aimed at making jokes it was easy to get bored since you were not in a mood for a workout.

After walking around for a good five minutes you ran into Alonso.

Ever since you first came to formula 1 Fernando fit right into your life, kind of like a father figure at most times and sometimes as an older and much wiser friend.

For that very reason you were now sat at one of the many leather benches talking the older man’s ear off about everything that had been going left instead of turning out right.

“Every day whenever I’m left alone it just gets so annoying, like I truly have nothing to do, but I have nothing I want to do. Like I’m just trying to sit somewhere and relax but it somehow feels too bland,” a heavy sign exited your lungs making Fernando put down his weights and put all of his attention on you now.

“Take them,” he was clutching a plastic earphone box lightly in his left hand, extending it towards you.

“Don’t you need them?” you lifted your eyes out of curiosity but did not dare take them just yet.

Fernando was quick to brush your question off, “Ech, I don’t like these wireless things, I always loose them.”

Your eyes locked on the case. Do I even like listening to music?

“Don’t worry these are unused, I got them from PR this morning,” he let out a chuckle, unnerved by your silence after being surrounded by your voice for so long.

“Are you sure?” you were uncertain but Fernando thrust the case into your hands and ruffled your hair as you smiled up at the man. “Thank you Fernando.”

“It’s all my pleasure sweetheart, it’s about time you started listening to your music again.”

Fernando walked away before you could inquire him about your taste of music, and how he knew so much about it.

There it was again, that uncomfortable feeling. You felt as if you were behind in class, like everyone knew what was going on and which formula to use for a certain problem, but you did not.

Everyone around you seemed to know things about you before you got to discover them yourself and that did nothing but make you uncomfortable in your own skin.

That is where the spiralling set in.

All of a sudden the world shifted off its natural axes and you were no longer there. Your words seemed to get stuck in your head, your movements too slow and every time you tried to pay attention your mind was engulfed in a thick cloud.

It was all messing you up to further close in on yourself.

Lando noticed. Of course Lando noticed. Even if it was only a week, Lando noticed…

There was one thing Lando actually paid attention to and it was you. But once again his great attraction to you was beginning to pain him, little by little scratching at his heart. With each cold shoulder and weak smile he could feel it, he could feel you moving further from him while he was stationary, just a few steps behind you, nonetheless too far than he’d like to be.

Lando’s eyes drifted around the white ceiling of his driver’s room as he tried to trace his steps back and see what might have caused you to stray from him. Was it something he did? If it was he’d better fix it before it became too late. But what could he have done?

You had the date about three weeks ago, that was fine, great even, and he hadn’t had you so happy and respondent in months. Then there was the free week before Spain which he spent with his family while you went to Australia with Oscar, but you texted and called every single day, most days it was you who initiated the calls and reassured him that he was not keeping you from sleep as the two of you were separated by many, many hours.

Then there was the night you landed in Spain. Lando had waited in the airport for hours, wishing he was the one to take you to the hotel and surprise you with your favourite flowers.

He remembered Spain last year. He could never forget, it was your first time at a race as a couple, the relationship still fresh as a wildflower. Lando was hoping for a win, and he felt he could win with you by his side, like he did the night before on the sim, only because you were there watching him with your soft loving and undeniably sleepy eyes…

He expected to jog your memory with the help of the familiar Spanish scenery however it appeared to blow up right in his face the next day.

He picked you up at the airport and you were happy. Right? Yes. You jumped into his arms, you held his hand and even let a tear escape your eye as you held the flowers close to your chest. On the ride to the hotel you talked so much, excitedly telling him about all kinds of aussie adventures you, Oscar and his girlfriend Lilly got up to. He listened all through them with a pearly smile, even if he had heard the stories before from Oscar, asking you questions while knowing the answers to them only because he knew you’d feel cared for and appreciated if he asked. And to end the short but splendid night you kissed goodnight after he walked you to your room. It was meant to be a thank you for his kindness but the real thank you for him where your eyes.

Your eyes were his weakness since day one.

But the next day your eyes were not your eyes anymore… They were not yours ever since.

Was this it? Is this how life is going to be now? He will work and work to get just a bit of you for you to forget it all the next day.

He had heard about such a thing from doctors how some amnesia patients have clear sky days when they become who they were before but even a slight factor can alter that and not an hour later they can forget all that happened before.

Does this mean you will never remember him?

What if you never love him again…

“Lan get up you muppet we have a race starting in 20,” Oscar yanked the older boy awake from his daydream and watched him return to reality. “Everything okay mate?” he observed the tired eyes of his friend.

“Yeah… let’s go.” Lando trained his gaze away from Oscar and left the room first. As much as he needed to talk about you now, he just couldn’t do it, not to Oscar, not again…

Your fingers mindlessly wrapped around your ring pulling it on and off constantly before your skin started burning, but that didn’t stop your behaviour.

Thanks to your mind running faster than an F1 car you’ve figured out a few things this week.

First. You liked Lando Norris. And that’s great.

But dreaming about him being your boyfriend? Now that’s a bit too much.

Second. You liked music. More than you initially thought you did.

Third. You liked cornflowers. The blue ones.

You didn’t know that before. You couldn’t really think of a flower you liked before…

Fourth. You had no idea who you were.

There it was again, that unshakable feeling out of alignment. Like the whole world had tilted and you were no longer on the same axis as before. Was it only a few degrees off but you felt worlds apart from the days before.

Your heart was racing again, lungs refusing to take in the oxygen, though it was all around. It was easy and natural to breathe, something no one needed to think about to control, it just happened and for some reason you were once again stuck unable to control your own self, just as you were unable to calm your pounding head.

You entered the garage where Oscar and Lando stood listening to one of their engineers explaining something to them animatedly. The earbuds in your ears were almost unnoticeable, even with the melodic tune, until you made eye contact with Lando’s clear blues did the familiar tune follow.

But I knew you,

Dancin' in your Levi's,

Drunk under a streetlight,

I knew you.

All of a sudden it hit you quite literally like a truck full of bricks. And the world completely swung off its axis.

The memories spun as a wind whirl in front of your eyes.

It played like a movie.

Your eyes filled with tears before you could turn away and leave the crowded space. Too confused and much too overwhelmed with what you’ve just remembered.

There was Lando, and he was everywhere. He was holding your hands and he was kissing you and he was sleeping in your bed. But you didn’t understand where all of this came from, when just moments ago you were trying to figure out if you even like the man, now you felt such a tremendous pull towards him, it scared you.

Lando had watched your small smile fade into a look of confusion and your eyes filled with tears. Your last look was it. Eyebrows pulled together, eyes glossy. Something he had not seen in months now. Your whole face was contoured with memories of you two together. And he could see that, he could see it from your eyes, the eyes that recognised him once more, only they were not glistening with love but with salty tears.

She remembered me. She is crying.

Panic ran Lando’s blood cold. He wanted to chase after you but before he could take one step in your direction a firm hand on his shoulder held him back.

Lando looked at the hand before lifting his eyes to meet the concerned eyes of his teammate, “Lando I know what she means to you, but you have a race starting in 5 minutes. We need to get in those cars.”

“But she’s crying Oscar, something is wrong.” Lando’s voice was demanding and rough, if he needed to push Oscar down to get to you he’d do it, no matter how much the thought of hurting his friend displeased him.

Oscar registered the fiery gaze that made home in Lando’s eyes and he did not want to see what followed but he had no thought of letting him go.

“You have to make a choice Lando. It was never going to be easy.”

As much as it hurt Oscar to say those words to his friend, all he wanted was for you and Lando to be together again.

But Oscar saw you this week. And he saw Lando this week. And neither were sights to marvel at.

You were always an extension of Lando and he poured all he had into the girl he loved. But you were different now, and that was changing Lando, although not always in a right way.

By the end of the day if you did not remember loving him and if their labour proved fruitless Lando would have nothing left. No you, no him. For now Lando at least had F1 and Oscar knew that the only thing he could do is help his friend protect his precious job because he had no call in your mind or feelings.

Only a month ago Oscar felt how everything would work out, but maybe working out meant you two finding your happiness apart and not together. Healing separately and moving on from what had passed. As disturbing as that sounded, it looked like the only solution for both of your wellness.

“Boys, cars, now!” a voice boomed, directing them to take their positions.

Oscar and Lando shared one last glance before Lando pulled his helmet back on and settled into his seat.

It’s gonna be a tough race. Oscar thought.

As expected the race was unlike no other this year, 3 crashes, 5 DNF’s all while Lando drove with the concentration of an eagle, his eyes on the road, but your eyes in his mind.

Lando was rethinking everything, he quite literally had the time, almost two hours before he’s allowed out of this car and can finally see you, he needed to be ready for what was to come in the future… or if there was any future for the two of you left.

What if it is the end?

What if you don’t want him anymore?

A couple of tears travelled down his hot cheek and mixed with his sweat. His eyes were burning, his chest was burning but he pushed and pushed himself unafraid to perform a dangerous over-take with the car in front of him. Mere seconds later a loud cheer echoed through his ear.

“P1 LANDO! YOU ARE THE WINNER LANDO!”

“I won?” He repeated while finishing the cool-down lap, complete disbelief soaking his words.

As soon as he stepped out of the car it was all cheering and flashing lights.

I need you to watch me win. Are you watching me? His own voice resonated through his ears, the memory of your eyes before him.

That was the last thread before he broke down crying next to his car.

Everyone cheered even louder. They thought he was facing the high of his life while he felt like rotting in hell.

He needed you to see him when he won. Now he did win, but you were not watching…

He knew you. He knew you so well. When you told him you’d be there, when you kissed his cheek, when you watched the night sky with him, when you held his hand. He knew you’d come back to him. He knew he’d get to hold your hand again and watch you smile all thanks to his wit.

Only he did not know it would be temporary…

Air got caught in Lando’s throat, it was suffocating being encaged within the helmet.

While Lando stood on the podium accepting his award not once did he look down at the crowd before him. Keeping his eyes on the trophy or the other men sharing the podium with him.

But never down, never to the left corner where from the side of his eye he could see that cluster of bright papaya, never to the very front of that gate, never to where you were supposed to be standing.

Because inside he knew that you were not there, but if he never looked back there then there will be no confirmation, so the theoretical possibility that you might just be there was all he could get and he would hold on to it for dear life.

If he never looked down, he could just let himself imagine that you were there, watching him win…

“See boy, you can’t win everything, but when your time comes, you get all that you want. And Lando, you very well deserve this,” it was Fernando tapping the younger boy on the shoulder, expressing his congratulations.

yeah… I won a race but I lost my love.

Sadness encapsulated his heart and the last thing he wanted now was to pretend to celebrate a long awaited win. Before anyone could get their hands on him he disappeared to his driver’s room.

He opened the door and locked it behind himself. He needed to be alone now.

“Lando,” your soft voice greeted him.

“I knew you,” your eyes were ablaze, “I don’t know how or where it came from, but I knew you and I loved you.” You tried your best to calmly express all feelings that came crashing down on you mere hours ago.

“Loved?” Lando breathed under his nose, he was shattered beyond repair as your declaration made him take in a large gulp of air. Lando could feel himself getting mad. This is so fucking unfair.

“You’re so mean.” He slumped down on the couch, his eyes directed away from you.

“What? Lando I’m trying to-“, you stepped closer to him, instantly regretting that decision.

“AND YOU DON‘T THINK I AM?! I’ve been trying for months now, all alone, while you wanted nothing to do with me. You didn’t even know me, while I had to live around you, still in love with you. It’s so unfair, SO FUCKING UNFAIR ALL OF THIS!”, his hands waved with inner rage. He knew he wasn’t mad at you, it was not your fault, but he was mad at something and he needed to let that out. He needed you to finally know how he felt.

“Lando I am sorry, I-“, you tried to interrupt before Lando completely broke.

“IT’S SO UNFAIR THAT YOU WEREN’T THERE, YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO WATCH ME. SURE YOU DON’T REMEMBER, BUT I DO, I REMEMBER, YOU PROMISED ME YOU’D WATCH ME WIN! AND YOU DIDN’T! YOU LIED!” With each word his voice became louder and louder, he was letting his emotions out for once, tired of holding them in for the sake of everyone else but himself.

“I know Lando! And I did watch you,” you tried to keep your mind levelled and let him let his frustrations out.

“NO, NO YOU DIDN’T, YOU RAN OUT BEFORE THE RACE COULD EVEN START, Y/N I SAW YOU!”

“I. WATCHED. YOU.” You’re the one to raise your voice now, getting close to his face. You needed to show him that you could hear him.

“We were here in Spain a year ago and you were sim racing before the race, you told me to watch you race, because you wanted me to see you win and you did win. But when we woke up the next day I had caught a cold and could not watch you race out on the circuit. You lost and you were crushed. I know Lando. I was there. And I am here now, only this time I was here too, I watched you race and I watched you win.” Your own voice glazed in assertiveness just to make him listen.

Lando’s eyes were in tears, his hands in tight fists unable to understand how something like this could have happened. All of these emotions crashing down on him, he didn’t know what to do, he did not know how to react, he was lost.

Your gentle touch worked to unwrap his tight grip and relax him before placing his palms on your tear stained cheeks.

You’d show him a way, the way you always had.

“I remember Lando. I remember everything. I am so sorry. I’m so sorry for leaving you alone for so long. I’m sorry it took me so long to come back to you. But we can fix this we can work on this together right?” you pleaded with your eyes, attentively searching his own for an answer.

Lando’s first instinct was to pull you into a crushing hug, breathing you in like you were his oxygen.

Lando finally felt at home. It was and always would be your touch, your presence that could ground him.

“You came back to me. I will do everything to keep you close, Y/n,” He whispered into your neck, the hot air tickling your skin making you giggle.

“You came back,” he held you even tighter and your hands were just as firm grasping him.

“I‘ll never leave you again,” you ran your hands through his soaked curls, letting the memories of your life before take over each one of your cells and fill you, “I’m sorry for taking so long my love,”

“Don’t be.” Lando broke the hug so he could look into your eyes again.

Now he saw his true prize. It was your eyes, your rosy cheeks, your glistening lips. You were back and you still loved him,“ I’d always wait for you.”

^^

Tags: @goldsbitch @cmleitora @mickslover @darleneslane @queenofmanydreams @ujws5

#lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x reader fluff #lando norris x reader imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 x y/n #formula 1 imagine #mclaren formula 1 #mclaren #ln4 x reader #ln4 #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #lando norris angst #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfic #f1 #lando norris fic #f1 x reader #angst with a happy ending #light angst

[sleepyangelkami]

ECHOING NEED c.grimes

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 803

CARL GRIMES X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - you come home dishevelled as ever after being missing for an entire week and carl attempts to pull the question out of you, where had you been.

 ☆ WARNINGS - blood + gore, violence, ptsd, traumatised reader, mentions of the saviors, medical attention, reader has hair, swearing, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

you sat against the infirmary chair, hair matted against your bloody forehead. the bags beneath your eyes were not a light pinkish colour but a deep purple, eyes cast away, as if your mind was replaying the moments you were trying so desperately to forget.

in all the time that carl had known you, he'd never seen you in such a state.

"you're okay, baby." his words fell on deaf ears, his hands gently soothing against the bloodied fabric of your jeans. in all the while he'd been staring at you, you hadn't dared to look back. "you're safe, you're home."

above him, denise stood over you, attempting to tend to the wound that sat on your forehead. a gash, deep enough, possibly the worst out of all the wounds your body had encountered.

behind him, glenn and rick stood. glenn had been the one to find you.

"help! someone help!" his words caught the resident's of alexandria's ears with evident stress. "somebody help me!"

carl had been standing with his father, ready to give everything up. there was a bag slung across his shoulder and his brows were furrowed together angrily. he was arguing, stating he was able to go find you himself, he wasn't going to wait on the people of alexandria to do their job. they were simply doing it too slow.

then he heard it, the stressed yells from glenn and daryl dixon standing off to the side, his face held little expression, but there was something in his eyes that sent a shiver running down carl's spine.

you, laid in glenn's arms, limp and covered in blood.

you woke in the infirmary minutes after you'd been placed on the bed. then, you'd downright begged to be sat on a chair, you didn't want to lay down, not with the flashing lights above you and everyone standing around, looking down at you.

you'd cried, begged and then you hadn't opened your mouth again.

"sweetheart?" carl had been trying to coax it out of you. what had happened, where you were. ricks questions didn't help and carl rushed forward, stating he could do it. you needed him. always. "what happened?" your eyes slowly turned to him, tears stinging the red outer corners, he'd wondered how long it'd been since you slept. he felt denise walk away, joining rick and glenn. "baby, I need you to talk to me."

you shook your head again, eyes letting the tears fall loose. "carl." you choked out, unable to breathe. all you wanted was to be cuddled up against him in his bed as he read his comics to you.

"hey, you're home, you're home." he sat up on his knees against the chair. his arms slowly wrapped around you. "nothing's gonna hurt you anymore, not while I'm here."

you knew carl enough to know he wasn't lying about that.

"baby, just tell me what happened." his fingers soothed against your hair. "just tell me what happened and it'll all go away."

oh how desperately you wanted to believe that. and in all your pain, throbbing head and haunting memories behind your eyes, your echoing need for your boyfriend was evident. "the saviors." you practically whimpered out, unable to keep it inside for any longer.

"atta girl." you felt him mumble into your hair as he took you into his arms.

for the first time in days, you felt at peace. his arms around you, soothing you gently as he hushed and cooed. you could finally bring yourself to sob, cry and ache for what had happened. carl only felt his own eye tear up lightly. he hated to hear you cry but he held you nonetheless. as much as he despised seeing you upset, he'd rather it be him than anyone else in the world comforting you. and he knew you wouldn't have wanted it any other way either.

it didn't take long for you to fall asleep again, obviously sleep deprived from wherever you'd been. carl didn't hesitate to lift you to the bed, draping a blanket over you and holding your hand gently.

he'd make sure he was the first you'd see when you'd wake up.

by now, it was just you, he and rick in the hospital room. his eye slowly lifted to his father, evident anger on his face. not even anger, pure rage. "I'm gonna fucking kill them."

rick only pursed his lips. "she needs you right now." hoping his son didn't run to do something stupid.

"I know." gazing softly at your sleeping features. "I'll take care of her until she's better. then negan better count his fucking days."

rick couldn't even argue. on the contrary, he and the rest of the group were going to help.

the saviors should know better than to mess with you.

main masterlist/carl's masterlist

#carl #grimes #carl grimes #carl x reader #carl grimes x reader #carl x you #carl grimes x you #carl x y/n #carl grimes x y/n #carl imagine #carl grimes imagine #carl grimes drabble #carl grimes oneshot #carl grimes smut #carl grimes fluff #carl grimes angst #carl drabble #carl oneshot #carl smut #carl fluff #carl angst #the walking dead #twd #twd x reader #twd x y/n #twd x you #twd imagine #twd fluff #twd angst #twd oneshot

[segasys]

comic about that one time in my first serv run-

ok so for the full story

I had just visited pebble and decided to take two neurons to moon, meaning I would only have one hand available all throughout the wall, chimney canopy, industrial complex, garbage wastes, and shoreline; which is a total pain in the ass. To add to that, everytime I ate something I would then auto eat the neuron in my left hand, and then I would have to die and reset, because I’m stubborn and was set on doing this. After making it all the way back to moon I picked up the yellow pearl, which is pretty close by, sheltered, and then made my way to moon. I gave her one of the neurons and while she was speaking I spat out the other neuron I had stored, and this is where everything falls to shit. Not realizing, I then swallowed the pearl and then ATE THE NEURON…. I ate it… i spent all that time… just to eat it. I then threw twice to give moon the pearl and neuron, not realizing I was literally throwing nothing, and I got super confused why there was no dialogue for at least the pearl. I checked behind moon and in the water behind her to see if she didn’t catch it, but I still couldn’t find it; so then I left, thinking that maybe the dialogue for the neuron cancelled out the pearl, (mind you, I was also very new to the game and had never given moon a pearl before so I also didn’t know that she gave it back to you after reading) and then I sheltered, which as you know, saves the game. And during the sleeping screen animation I then realized I possibly could’ve swallowed the pearl, which led me to spit it out and, to my horror, come to the final conclusion, that for me to have swallowed the pearl, I must also have eaten the neuron. You can not understand the emotion I felt when I realized that, to have gone through all of the stress of having only one hand available to bring moon two neurons, to then EAT ONE IN THE END!!!! And I also saved so I couldn’t get it back.

Now here me out, you may be wondering how I managed to not notice I ate it, so here’s my explanation: 1. As I’ve said before, throughout the route I would auto eat the neuron whenever I would eat something else, this also applies to swallowing things, since it’s the same action, as well as regurgitating things. So me eating the neuron just automatically happened, I was not pressing eat so I wasn’t expecting me to have eaten it. 2. I wasn’t looking, I was focused on reading dialogue. 3. Even if I was looking I still might not have seen because there’s a bit on moon’s platform that is in the foreground and mostly covers up your scug, so i probably wouldn’t have noticed much. 4. Im pretty sure I was listening to music at this point, so I probably didn’t hear any sound cues if they were too quiet.

anyway this was a huge unnecessary rant, and I still don’t forgive myself for this.

also for my friend in the back, I’ll say it one more time, NO I DID NOT EAT ONE OF MOON’S NEURONS!!!!!!

#rain world #rain world fanart #the survivor #looks to the moon #The Ghost!! He draws!!!!! #if your expecting consistently with my art #Don’t #it’s been a while since I’ve done digital #I love rainworld!!! #Also I fucking love the knuckles oh no sound affect #Weeblr’s insane ramblings

[bunnybeandraws]

I would like to thank @crumb-crumblet-s-crumbington for giving me the inspiration to write this because their recent lethan comic has been stuck in my head all day <3

It was always hallways with these kinds of places. Long, never-ending hallways with dull gray walls and dull white floors with dull metal doors lining each and every corridor. It made these places exceedingly difficult to navigate in stressful situations.

The sound of gunfire snaps Leon out of these thoughts, and he twists around to return fire, roughly pulling Ethan along as they turn into yet another identical hallway.

Leon can count the amount of times he's been in this building on one hand, this specific event being one of them. He hadn't even planned on returning to this place ever, but Chris had called in a favor, and who is he to say no to an old friend? Especially if it's to save an innocent person from being treated like a monster.

The sound of more gunfire makes Ethan flinch for just a moment, slowing the two down temporarily, and Leon has to wonder… Is this really the same person who survived the Dulvey Incident? The same person who had their heart ripped free from their chest and came back to tell the tale?

Because Ethan certainly doesn't seem like it.

A large double-door opens behind them, and Leon curses at himself internally. Of course the bastards would bring back up, but it doesn't make the situation any less aggravating. He twists around once more to return fire, forcing his burning legs to move faster because goddamn it, they're almost home free!

Ethan suddenly jerks, and a flash of red in the corner of his eye tells Leon the worst has happened. A single bullet between the eyes, Ethan already slumping forward.

Shit, fuck, this wasn't supposed to happen, they were supposed to get out of here, Ethan was supposed to see his wife and child again, he was-

He wasn't slumping anymore, his back arching like a puppet suddenly pulled back by its strings. Black seeps from the wound, consuming the top half of Ethans' face, and out of instinct, Leon starts to ready his pistol. He's already dealing with aggressive, murdery humans, he doesn't need an aggressive, murdery B.O.W on top of all of that.

For a moment, nothing happens, the mold simply writhing before it's pulled back into the bullet wound like someone unplugged a drain. And when the mold has fully receded, the wound too has disappeared, and Ethan is already running again, not stopping to even question what happened, like he didn't even realize that he just came back from the dead once more.

Leon simply stares for a moment, all sound around him muted and his vision focused entirely on Ethan. He knew the younger man wasn't human, but seeing his regeneration in action was something else entirely.

A sudden sharp pain across his cheek yet again snaps Leon out of his thoughts, and he grits his teeth, returning fire once more.

Maybe he had just been seeing things, the stress of the situation just getting to him. Ethan certainly seemed completely fine, just running ahead of Leon…

But that patch of glistening red on the floor seemed very real.

#resident evil #ethan winters #leon kennedy #resident evil village #re8 #lethan #genuinely its comic has been stuck in my brain all day and i just has to write this out before the day was over <3 #i don't even know how to explain my thought process tbh #just enjoy the 10:00 pm writing <3

[saphushia]

do you have any fic recs for dp/dc? ive been interested in reading good ones but its kinda hard to shuffle thru them all.

oh fuck yeah you know i do. i'm just gonna make a list of good ones until i get bored or tired lets see how long this gets lmao

also personal preference wise i'm not big on the danny-gets-adopted fics so u gotta ask someone else if u want recs of those ones lmao

⭐= my absolute favorites all fics are gen unless a ship is listed make sure u check fic tags for CWs b4 reading 👍

=ONESHOTS=

⭐It all Started at a Convention tim meets danny at a tech convention and they have a surprisingly nice afternoon together. and then tim comes to a realization about some things danny said...

A Monsterous Kind of Love [tim/danny] tim's a vampire. danny's a full ghost. tim gets to kill a few hunters in a frenzied rage to keep danny safe. as a treat <3

You've Got My Heart (I've Got Your Soul) [tim/tucker] congrats tim! you met your soulmate! why's he trying to kill you. hm. maybe you fucked up, buddy

Of loss, longing and long duration. [danny/bruce] of danny falling in love with bruce, breaking up with bruce, and proceeding to still be adored by all bruce's kids, past and present.

You Are a Monster (But So Am I) [danny/duke] duke's not a monster fucker- he's not! he swears! it's just this one, specific, really pretty eldritch snow monster-

If I had a nickel for every billionaire that tried to kidnap me, I’d have two nickels- which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it happened twice bruce is very tired. it's not his fault he accidentally kidnapped some teenager. aka danny's very bad wierd and stressful afternoon.

=ONGOING=

If You Give a Bat a Burger danny's just trying to lay low while keeping gotham's spirit infestation under control- of course nothing ever is simple for him. meanwhile, the bats all have their hands full with what seem to be unconnected cases, but nothing's ever simple for them either.

Rooftop Express [danny/jason] danny is bored and starts his own version of doordash in gotham. red hood keeps putting in orders so he can see the cute delivery boy <3 what do you mean he's a halfa

⭐Bus to Nowhere danny's adventures being a homeless teen in gotham on the run from his parents and the GIW. he's called dumpster tommy now, and he can't seem to stop befriending criminal and attracting vigilantes desperate to help him

An Interesting Family Tree [danny/tim] danny left the league of assassins years ago, but he can't seem to keep his nose out of it when he finds out red robin's being targeted by them. (canon divergence of tim's search for bruce in the red robin comics, where danny joins him. don't need to read the comic to read the fic)

⭐Grave Promises after an identity reveal gone wrong, danny has no one to turn to. no one, except, maybe, the hero who got stuck in the ghost zone years ago, who became danny's friend, danny's mentor, before they finally got him returned to his timeline. nightwing.

Our Empty Graves [jason/danny] danny, mute, injured, and on the run, is saved from a tight spot by red hood. he quickly becomes jason's problem, and jason makes the mistake of becoming endeared to this snarky shit.

Night Circus [dick/danny] dick hits it off with danny, a circus performer who just came to gotham. dick's thrilled- aside from the fact that circus gothica seems to be connected to the string of robberies that's suddenly hit gotham, and the bizarre thief dressed like the grim reaper...

Secretary Danny danny accidentally gets himself hired as the personal secretary of tim drake, wayne industries CEO. he's surprisingly ok with this, actually. and he's scarily good at it.

ok it's late i need to go eepies now have funnnn <3

#fic rec #answers #dcdp #anonymous #i have too much time to trawl thru fics lmao #<- guy who regularly just. goes thru every single page of fics when they get into a new fandom

[writinghotchner]

the infinite amount of times you saved yourself, and the one time you didn't have to

Pairing: aaron hotchner/reader Rating: M (sfw) Warning: talks of self harm & depression (nothing too descriptive)

----

i really don't know why this came into my brain, but i couldn't shake it so...here we go. please mind the warnings and take care of yourselves <3

----

you have a small moment of wanting to relapse after being clean for so long and aaron finds you in the bathroom

you've dealt with self harm since you could remember. it started with hitting yourself as a child and then progressed into scratching, and then eventually when you got a little older, you got your hands on a pack of brand new razor blades. and then it became a problem. it stemmed from lack of control, a therapist once told you, so any time you felt like you were in a situation you couldn't control - or felt the need to control - you'd immediately take it out on yourself. the only thing you could control was the pain. and, as sad as it is, it always made you feel better. it stopped the spiraling and the crying and the heaving of breathe that you could never fully suck into your lungs.

you're not entirely sure how you got here in this moment. in your underwear and bra on the bathroom floor of the apartment you share with your boyfriend. he works for the fbi, travels a lot, never really seems to be home...but it still works. you've never been in such a healthy, loving relationship before, despite the distance. so maybe that's why you feel the tinge of guilt sitting on top of the unbearable sadness that rumbles in your chest like a brewing hurricane.

you're happy. for maybe the first time in your life. you have a great, albeit, stressful job, a handful of good friends and you're potentially with the love of your life...so...how did you get here? on the floor of the bathroom in the apartment that you share with your boyfriend. who is, unfortunately, or fortunately, still at work. he wasn't out of town, thankfully, but his attention was still needed in quantico. he could potentially show up at any moment. and that sends a bizarre lightening strike of adrenaline down your spine. if you're going to do it, now's the time. before he comes home and sees the mess you've made, yet again, and leaves. like almost everyone else has done before.

you know this is a pattern. you'd been stuck in a depression vortex for most of your life, so when good things start happening your brain immediately throws you ten steps backwards, and you wind up like that scared, lonely teenager, clutching something sharp and willing yourself to either do it...or don't.

you'd never really been good with talking yourself out of it. and now is no different. you can do it, and hide it for as long as you can. put on the facade that everything is and has always been great. and then he'll see the fresh marks, and you'll immediately fall back into being that scared, lonely child begging people to not leave you.

you'd done this so many times that it's almost comical that you keep hoping that this is the one time you can talk yourself out of it. but then, what else can you brag about, if not that your are your own hero. always the one to save yourself. not that anyone's ever really stuck around long enough to even try to be the hero.

but still, you picture aaron charging through the bathroom door, his short hair suddenly long and flowing in some magical wind and lifting you into his big, strong arms and hauling you off to some beautiful place where you can breathe.

you close your eyes and sigh. your legs are starting to go numb from how your sitting on the tile floor. now or never the pathetic little voice floats around your brain.

you take a deep breath, straighten out your left arm and grip the razor blade tighter....

just as your about to zip the blade through your flesh, you hear the front door open and then close. you hear aaron shuffling around calling out for you.

"honey?" he says loudly, walking into the bedroom, where the bathroom your in is attached to.

for some reason, that's what breaks you. you let the blade fall out of your hand and choke on a sob that has been threatening to come out since you got home.

you can hear him on the other side of the door, jiggling the handle. "honey, are you in here?" the door is locked and you don't know if you have it in you to get up and let him in. funnily enough, you're not sure you want him to come him - despite the little hero fantasy you had moments ago.

you suck in a deep breath and you try to calm your voice. "hey, yeah, i'll be out in a second. just getting out of the shower."

you wince at your lie and you can immediately tell that he doesn't believe you. he's a professionally trained human reader, of course he was going to see right through that. maybe you kinda wanted him to.

"sweetheart," he says softly. "i can hear it in your voice. please open the door."

your lip quivers as this unknown fear settles deep inside of you. you've never been so scared of someone seeing this side of you.

another sob escapes you before you even realize it was there, and you know it was loud enough for him to hear. he doesn't wait for you to open the door, instead he throws the side of his hip into it and it cracks open, a piece of small metal clanking around on the ground from the handle.

you can't even look up at him. you've crumbled in on yourself, legs crossed and elbows on your thighs, head in your hands as you finally just let it all out.

"hey," he says softly, and you can suddenly feel his big warm hand on your bare back. "are you hurt? what's going on?"

he moves his hand off your back and puts it softly around your wrist, pulling it away from your face. he uses his other hand to turn your face to him, his eyes immediately scanning for any blood or wounds.

"y/n, i need you to say something, i'm thinking the worst here," he whispers, his eyes never leaving yours. the hand that he used to move your face is now cupping your cheek, his thumb wiping away the falling tears.

you still don't say anything, if anything the embarrassment of it all has your tongue. so instead you sit up and fall into his chest where he immediately circles his arms around your shoulders, hugging you to him securely. your heart thuds in your chest as you realize at this position, he can see the fallen razor blade that was to the side of you, hidden by your legs before. you know he's going to see it, he sees everything.

sure enough, you can tell when he spots it. because he pushes your body way from him his, just far enough to where he can look down at your entire body, looking for any signs of blood or bandaging.

"i didn't-" you rasp out. he runs his hands up your arms and uses both hands to cup your cheeks. you can't place the expression on his face, but you know it isn't good. it's never good to make someone you love so much worry so much about you. you feel stupid and even more embarrassed now. a vicious cycle.

"were you going to?" he asks. the concern in his voice loud enough to knock you over.

more tears fall, you want to curl in on yourself and hide away under the rug, but he doesn't let you move your head.

"i think so."

"honey.." his voice is so sad and so concerned. it breaks you even more. you fall back into his chest and he lets you, his arms once again coming around to hug you to him.

"is this something you've done before?"

you take in a deep breath. being in his arms like this always makes you feel better, and the fact that he can't see your face right now makes this conversation a tiny bit easier.

"since i was a kid," you blow out a steady stream of air, willing the hurricane in your chest to go with it. "i stopped for a long time. it felt kinda childish to keep doing it well into adulthood, so i replaced it with other things...." you trail off and he squeezes you tighter and kisses your shoulder.

"and then, y'know, you get older, you get a job, you learn how to distract your brain from the self destructive cycle. but i think i locked the beast away for too long, because tonight i just...couldn't..."

you feel him take in a deep breath. he pulls away from you and runs his hands down your arms and holds your hands.

"i'm glad you didn't. is there anything i can do to help? can we maybe make a plan for the future so it doesn't come down to this again?"

you nod. "i've...never had anyone offer that before. most people just...leave."

he pulls you into a small, soft kiss. his hands are back on your cheeks, and he pushes your hair out of your face. "it'll take a lot more than this to make me leave, honey. we can get through this together. whatever you need."

and for the first time in your entire life, you didn't care about having bragging rights to being your own savior. for once, you can't wait to tell someone how you met the love of your life and how he stood by your side and helped you through the unimaginable. and never gave up on you.

#criminal minds #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x reader #*mine #*reader #*hotch x reader #the infinite amount of times you saved yourself and the one time you didn't have to

[milksuu]

HIIII omg im in love w ur writing !! if it’s not too much to ask, can i request heartsteel aphelios and his s/o who also happens to be an idol?? maybe something where he finds them stressing about a song not being good enough or just general stress?? ty in advance!!

❥ prompt: Being an idol came with all the stresses one could imagine. Autograph signings, photo shoots, and general press interviews. That was your life. Day in and day out. At some point, something had to break. But Aphelio's was there to pick up the pieces. ❥ content/warnings: hurt/comfort, panic attack, angst, fluff ❥ characters/pairings: v!Heartsteel aphelios/ f!reader

Your life was scheduled. Rigid. Kept in a little black book. In the right-back pocket of your manager's steam pressed pants. Anything that went outside the borders of those pages, was irrelevant. Nothing else mattered.

And a lot of times, you thought you didn't matter. Your manager would remind you, quite often. That you were just another pretty face. With just another pretty voice. With just another idol cookie-cutter personality. Easily replaceable. Easily forgotten. No matter how many hit singles topped the charts. No matter how many brand deals you signed. No matter how many venues sold out. If that black book disappeared, you would go along with it.

But when you met Aphelios. You felt it. How important you actually were.

It was a comical meet-cute. There was a mix up in dressing-rooms at one photoshoot, where multiple artists attended. You found it odd when you saw the make-up artist open their color palette. Mostly darker colors, which wasn't on brand for your aesthetic. Still, you didn't question it. To not be labeled a difficult artist, you went along with anything and everything.

It wasn't until Aphelio's knocked on your dressing-room door. And when you opened it. Wow. How pretty. With all that glitter pink lip-gloss, peach summer cheek blush, and gorgeous lash extending mascara. Then there was you; dark lipstick, pale cover foundation, and heavy eye-liner on your bottom lid. He explained the situation by taking a lip-stick and writing on his arm. You couldn't stop laughing ever since.

It was only a miracle that you were somehow able to convince your manager to set up a collab with Aphelios. If it involved work and profit, it was marked inside the little black book. If that's what it took. You would work yourself to death. Even just to spend a fraction of time with him.

And yet. How did it turn out like this? There you were, inside the recording booth at Riot Studios. Your hands crinkling the lyric sheet Aphelios gave to you. Written specially for you to sing. But you were trembling, your voice trapped inside you. Your heart pounded so loud it hurt your chest and head. Your breathes? Where did they go?

Your dizzy eyes darted upward. Behind the booth glass, you saw Aphelios raised in his seat. A look of worry spreading through his features.

Bang! You flinched. Your manager slammed that little black book against the glass. Yelling at you to sing—to stop wasting everyone's damn time. Bang! You're going to be replaced. Bang! You're going to be forgotten. You! Don't! Matter!

The banging stopped. You stared wide-eyed. Aphelios snatached that little black book. Page by page, he tore it to shreds. Tossing the pieces at your manager, and tossing the book on the ground. His voice silent, but you heard him. So loud. So clear. A strong and beautiful voice. It was the strength you needed to not collapse.

Before any physical confrontation transpired, Aphelios pressed a specific button underneath the panel. Shortly after, two security guards dragged your manager, red-faced and swearing out the door.

Aphelios hurried inside the booth with you. You reached a trembling hand to him, stumbling into his arms with utter exhaustion. He caught you in his embrace, bringing you into the safety of his chest. You heard his heart sing. Felt it beating against your cheek, reaching for you too. Thank God. Hot tears pricked the corners of your eyes. That little black book was gone. But you were still here. You mattered.

And you mattered so much to Aphelios. He made some text calls, contacted a couple of important people, and pulled some strings. He arranged your new manager to be his sister, Alune. Who was more than happy to work with you. From then on, your days were filled with Aphelio's, Alune, and the rest of Heartsteel. Your most precious musical family.

an: bruhhh the life an idol, especially if you have a poopy manager must be hell. so stressful. ty for you req. anon. got me in the feels a bit here.

#heartsteel #heartsteel x reader #aphelios x reader #aphelios #league of legends #LoL #request #reqs open #aphelios lovers really coming out of the woodworks in my inbox #this blog is going to turn to just aphelios x reader if you guys keep this up haha #not complaining #nope nope not me

[bonny-kookoo]

Is there a chance you‘ll write a Drabble of into the wild where Jungkook or OT7 have to take the instinct test? I‘m so curious about it!!

He's gone through the theoretical part of his instinct evaluation test- today, it's the most difficult and most challenging part of it all.

He's only allowed to go through this once. The process differs from every test so as not to give any wolf the chance to prepare and 'cheat' the system in any way by telling others what to prepare for. He's got three small sensors placed on his forehead and the sides to measure brain activity- and he knows that behind the walls around him, there's people watching and judging his body language and behavior at all times.

He can't see them- the walls are only see-through one way.

It starts off almost comical. Like they're joking.

Jungkook himself is sitting on a chair, watching how the differently colored rabbits jump around the room, inspecting their surroundings and occasionally sniffing on his leg. He honestly thinks they're cute. They're prey- but not in this moment. He knows how to differentiate that.

Though he also knows that there's a lot of alphas that struggle with this already.

Someone walks in- a nurse, who picks up the rabbits, puts them in their boxes again before she walks out, leaving him alone again. He taps on his leg, simply out of boredom. He's confident he's gonna pass- he's trained a lot up to this point after all.

"How do you feel right now?" Someone asks over the speaker, and Jungkook perks up.

"Good." He simply answers, since there's nothing else he can really say. He doesn't feel like anything is really going on with him- and the people watching his brain activity nod, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Images are shown. Videos are watched. He's surprisingly calm through all of it.

But he's growing nervous now. Because scents are used at this stage, and he knows he's a little vulnerable to those things. Especially this one-

Prime omega. Used as an extreme example that he won't ever encounter in real life since there's no prime omegas around anymore- but to see what he can handle, the personnel tends to use rather harsh things to try and coax a reaction out of him.

And it's working.

"His eyes are reacting." A nurse observes behind the one-way window, watching him. "He's also starting to sweat." She notes further, and it's clear that on the brain wave scale, there's also something happening.

"Its still very mild though. All in the acceptable ranges." A man with glasses mentions. "He's nowhere near shifting."

Jungkook starts to wiggle his leg up and down. He's growing nervous now, saliva collecting in his mouth as he needs to concentrate. The air is getting lighter again, when the door opens, a tall man entering.

An alpha, sitting down across from Jungkook.

"Having trouble?" He asks, and it's clear that his job is to look and coax out any aggressive behavior from the now vulnerable werewolf in front of him. He might not even be a wolf- maybe he's just a human guy, drenched in the scent of an alpha wolf.

"A bit." Jungkook tilts his head, smiles though- trying to push his emotions towards cracking jokes instead.

"I can see that." The man offers. "You noted down in your papers that you've never got into a serious physical fight with any of your packmates." He states, and Jungkook nods. "Hard to believe. Or are you just a pushover? Nothing wrong with that." He jabs, and Jungkook can't help but clench his jaw a bit.

"Being a pushover and having no need for violence to get a point across isn't really the same thing." Jungkook exclaims slowly, before he takes in a deep breath. "I exercise. That's how I let go of stress."

"You're a prime alpha. It's hard to believe you just let your pack be led by someone else." The man scoffs. "Isn't it insulting to just follow orders?"

"No." Jungkook declines, swallowing, before clearing his throat. The smell of that guy is clogging up his neck it feels like. "I trust in my pack alpha that he knows what's best. Same with the human government. There's a reason for every choice made even if it's the wrong one in my eyes." He offers, adjusting his position on the chair.

"If you found a human partner you're compatible with, how would you go at it?" The guy asks, crossing his arms.

"Depends." Jungkook shrugs. "Ask her out. If she isn't interested, go about my day. If she is, go on a date with her. Easy." He says.

"And if she doesnt want you because you're a wolfblood?" He asks, making Jungkook shake his head.

"Then that's a choice. I don't judge." He says.

"Now that you say that.." the man says, and by the look of him, he's preparing himself for a reaction now. "..that's interesting, considering your parents both now live in the cities and abandoned you in the woods."

Jungkook stays silent, swallows down a growl building up.

"Must've been confusing for a young boy. But then again-" the guy offers, "-there was no way you could've been raised in the city amongst regular people without putting anyone in danger." He says.

"It's wolf culture. Tradition." Jungkook explains calmly. "Nothing wrong with that. I visit them regularly and have no problems with them whatsoever." He declines, a little tense but still collected.

There's a bit of silence in the room, Jungkook's breathing deep and even to keep himself calm. He hates that the scents around him make him this nervous.

"And if you found a wolf partner? An omega even?" He asks, and Jungkook wants to answer, when he's interrupted.

A sudden noise behind him makes him jump, though he stays seated- only turns around, before he realizes they're probably using auditory stimuli now to really test him. He recovers fairly quickly, turning back towards the man in front of him.

"I- the same as the other question I just answered." He says. "Ask her out. If she's not interested, leave her alone. If she is, court her." He shrugs, before tilting his head to crack his neck twice.

"I mean that's easy to say." The man chuckles. "But I guess we'll see how you do out there in the wild." He suddenly smiles, standing up to reach out his hand. "Thank you for participating. You'll get your results by the end of this week." He says, and Jungkook sighs relieved, shaking the man's hand.

"Thanks." He offers, leaving the facility with all of his psck who celebrate later in the woods at the pack house, though he shifts first and foremost, having to run off his tense muscles and pent up emotions from the day.

But its all worth it when he receives his score two days later, and even a certificate for his outstanding results, boosting his confidence like never before.

His work had payed off.

He's officially free.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #hybrid imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #werewolf jungkook

[magicalqueennightmare]

Jealousy

After falling into bed, neither you or Billy are sure where you stand

Miserable. There was no other word for it. What made it worse was that you couldn't talk to the one person you always turned to because he was the reason for the misery.

You were laid across Karen's couch, watching her pace the floor as she talked to someone from the bulletin. They were stressing about the evening edition and Ellison was out for a couples days due to his daughter's wedding. You were glad she had seniority meaning you could just watch her bitch at the interns and not have to intervene.

You turned until your feet was over the back of the couch and your hair was touching the floor. If nothing else you managed to pull a smile to her face when she saw your current position. She made a few more loops before hanging up. She cocked her head to the side staring at you "Honey? Something wrong?"

You shook your head. How the hell were you supposed to tell her that the previous week you'd spent Friday night and most of Saturday in Billy's bed? The first night could've been blamed on the alcohol but when the two of you woke up the next morning you weren't sure what the excuse could be for the other two rounds you went for in the bed or the one in the shower or the one on his couch.

She studied you for a moment "Bullshit. Spill" she crossed her arms and you grinned slightly "uh oh. I've instigated Miss Page" she shook her head and motioned with her fingers for you to turn the correct way on the couch. You turned slowly, steadying yourself before patting the cushion next to you "I want to tell you but you and Frank have one of them annoyingly close and trusted relationships where you don't hide anything from each other"

She sat down and you saw the tiny crease between her eyes which meant she was trying to figure out the meaning behind your words "Did something happen while we were gone last weekend?:" you groaned before burying your face in your hands. Maybe if you weren't looking at her it wouldn't be as bad? "I slept with Billy" you mumbled.

After silence overtook you both you weren't sure she'd heard you. The moment you pulled your hands down you knew she had because she was staring at you open mouthed "What?" You let out a long sigh "I had sex with Billy, a few times actually over the course of Friday night leading into Saturday afternoon"

She looked nearly comical the way she opened and shut her mouth a few times before finally asking "Well was it good?" "Karen!" You scolded and she cracked up laughing "What am I supposed to say here? I mean are you two like together now?"

You shrugged "I don't know. I mean we've talked since then but not about what happened.Billy has always been flirty with me and he's big on physical touch so I have no fucking clue where I stand because I mean he's Billy. He's my friend and means a lot to me but I know he's not the settle down one woman type. I don't want to bring up the elephant in the room just to get shut out you know?" She nodded slowly, a sigh escaping her. "Christ I'm glad Frank had to work late. My poker face is shit if I don't have forewarning"

You laughed lightly "Also explains why I've been avoiding direct conversation with Frank. He can see right through my bullshit" she nodded again "True. I mean, we're all going out tomorrow night for Foggy and Marci's anniversary. You'll have moral support. I think Curt has a date but everyone else will be there even Claire and Jess are coming. Test the waters maybe?"

You slouched down further on the couch, nearly hitting the floor "What if I just hide under your bed and refuse to come out?" She laughed "Well I mean you could but do you really want to be under and listen when.." "No!" You cut her off mid sentence sliding on down to the floor "Fine. I'll go but I'm sticking close to you and Frank so no funny business until I head home got it?" She nodded, biting her lip to keep from laughing at your distress "Yes ma'am"

Frank walked into the bar with one arm around Karen who was holding your hand. You knew you shouldn't be feeling like this. It was Billy. You'd known each other for so long, a part of you wasn't surprised that you fell into bed. The attraction had long since been there you just never meant to actually give in to it.

----------

A part of you wanted to just hide behind Frank all night but he'd know something was up if you didn't socialize at least a bit. As much as you didn't want to face an awkward conversation with Billy, one with Frank seemed even worse somehow.

The moment you walked into the door the music hit your ears. It was a song you loved, that calmed your nerves slightly. Frank stopped before turning to you and Karen "You two want your usuals?" You nodded so he kissed Karen's cheek before heading to the bar. Karen pulled you closer to her, wrapping an arm around your shoulders "Breathe. It'll be fun. All our friends are here. It's gonna be a good evening"

You looked around and spotted Foggy dancing with Marci. They both waved when they saw the two of you. You heard your name being called and saw Jessica and Trish heading their way towards you and Karen. You smiled seeing the two of them, Jessica was a little rough around the edges but you'd known her for some time. "Hey Jess! Hey Trish!" You greeted.

"Good to see you Y/N, you too Karen" Trish greeted as Jessica pulled you into a one armed hug. She glanced around once she released you "Where's Castle? I know him and Russo are around here somewhere" Frank walked back up about that time "Dunno where Bill is but how ya been Jess?" The two of then started talking so Trish grabbed your arm "Care for a dance?" You laughed cutting your eyes at Karen "I'll be back and don't worry you're still my favorite blonde"

Karen's laughter trickled to your ears as Trish pulled you onto the dance floor.

----------

After about half an hour you figured Billy just wasn't coming. He'd yet to show up so you had relaxed into the evening, even venturing away from Karen and Frank a few times. You were waiting at the bar for another drink when you had that hope squashed. You felt someone step up next to you, a hand brushing against your lower back and spun to tell whoever it was to give you some breathing room. Instead of some random drunk though Billy was leaning on the bar with a grin spread across his face "Easy there Y/N"

You let out a breath because even though you hadn't looked forward to facing him the thought of some overly enthusiastic drunk asshole made your head hurt. "Hey Billy" you greeted with a small smile. He looked good as always, black jeans and a dark green sweater. His eyes bore into you slightly and you had to resist the urge to fidget in your seat from the weight of his stare.

When the bartender came over with your drink Billy reached over your head before you could pay to hand him a twenty. "Rest of her drinks go on my tab" you raised an eyebrow at the bartender "No they don't. Keep that twenty as a tip" then passed over the amount for the drink in your hand.

The bartender looked a mixture of amused and not wanting to get into whatever you and Billy had going on. He passed Billy a beer then walked off. "So I can't pay for your drinks?" "I've never asked for you to pay my way Billy. I have a decent job, might not be a ceo who wears custom made suits on the daily but I get by well enough" he chuckled lightly "You have always been so damn independent. It doesn't hurt to let someone help ya"

You shook your head, staring up at him as you said "If someone is harassing me hell yeah I'll ring for help, my car break down and it's more than I have at hand I will call but Billy I can buy my own drinks" he smiled broadly "Ok darling. At least you've agreed to let me help with anything big"

You pushed away from the bar and felt him follow you. Billy's presence was something you couldn't very well ignore even if you wanted to.

When you got closer to the table you'd been sitting at with Karen and Frank she cut her eyes up and you knew the moment she spotted Billy behind you because they got wider. You slid onto the chair next to her so Billy took up residence in the chair on your right. "Damn Bill. Didn't think you were gonna make it"

You turned towards Karen begging for conversation when Billy said "That meeting with Samantha Milton ran longer than I thought" Frank made a noise which was a mixture of a scoff and a laugh. You knew what that meant. Samantha was gorgeous and eyeing Billy, probably vice versa as well. "Yeah I bet it did"

You felt your entire body stiffen when Billy's leg bumped against yours and prayed he didn't notice. He reached his left hand out to rest on your knee but you moved away quickly, nearly knocking into Karen.

"Y/N you good?" Frank asked and you smiled "Yeah. I um I gotta use the bathroom. Karen wanna come with me?" She smiled at Frank "We'll be right back" she grabbed your arm and the two of you slipped away into the crowd. God you were an idiot. Why did you think it would change anything? Yeah the sex was amazing but it was just sex, that much was now blazingly apparent.

----------

"So what's the play?" Karen asked after clearing the bathroom to ensure it was in fact just the two of you. You stared at her blankly "What play Kare?"

She motioned towards the door "Billy and the Milton chic?" You smiled despite everything. Karen was a one in a million friend, willing to go to bat even when you weren't. You shook your head "There's no play Kare. Me and him had a drunk night that washed over into the next day. I shouldn't let it effect years of friendship and I'm not going to so please just act like you know nothing? For my sake, for Frank's sake"

She rolled her eyes but nodded "Fine but I'm accidently kicking him at least once tonight" you laughed and grabbed her hand to head back out "I'd expect nothing less"

----------

By the time the two of you made it back to the table Frank was talking on the phone while Billy was peeling the label off his beer looking borderline annoyed. "Something wrong?" You asked once you were sat back down next to him.

He cut his eyes at you "Could ask you the same" "I'm good" you replied and held his gaze. He nodded slowly "Good" Frank hung up then looked at Karen "How long you wanna stay out?" She shrugged "It's Friday night. None of us have to work tomorrow" he grinned "Good. Remember Rumlow?"

Your eyes shot up at the name. Brock Rumlow. He was a couple years older than Frank and former army rangers. He'd gone into working for shield and last you heard worked close with Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster. He was pretty chill and not bad to look at either. "Brock’s in town?" You asked and he nodded "Should be here in a few minutes" "Awesome. Glad I decided to come out tonight then"

You missed the look that passed between Billy and Frank and the way that Billy's jaw clenched at your words. So you had been on the fence about coming out, even though it was originally for Marci and Foggy. Now you were excited to see Rumlow of all people?

He was sitting right next to you, within arm's reach. If you wanted anything all you had to do was ask. He thought after the hours you'd spent together the previous weekend that it was a step towards him and you being more than friends. He'd done everything in his power to show you how good he could make you feel, how much he wanted you. He could still feel your nails biting into his back, hear the way you moaned his name. What the hell had he done wrong?

Maybe you'd gotten the wrong idea, thought it was just sex. Maybe you didn't want him the way he wanted you? Shit though, every day he had women and some days men throwing themselves at him. He was a good lucking guy, damn good job and thought he treated you well. He was also your friend, he knew you in every way. Why the fuck were you excited to see Rumlow?

You spotted Brock the moment he walked in. He was about Frank's build, black hair he always wore short but not cropped. The thing that always got you was the fact that much like Frank and Billy, Brock had this aura about him that any creep within fifty feet would immediately back off their mark. You could sense the fact that all three men were dangerous, had done unspeakable things and would do so again to protect someone they deemed worth of it.

Frank let out a loud whistle and Brock grinned when he spotted all of you. "Castle! How the hell are ya?" The two of them greeted each other with that one armed hug men do. "Can't complain man" Frank replied with a laugh as Brock drug another chair over to the table, sitting between you and Karen. "How's it going Russo?" He asked Billy who gave a sharp nod "Like Frankie said man, can't complain"

Brock nodded then looked between you and Karen "You two are gorgeous as always" you and her both smiled. "Nice to see you too Brock" she replied and you added "Yeah its been a while. I wanna hear about Darcy and Jane!"

The two of you went into a conversation, dragging Karen in as well. Out the corner of your eye you saw Frank cut his eyes at Billy "Let's grab another round" "Yeah I don't know how much longer I'm staying out" Billy replied but stood to follow Frank nonetheless.

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

Brock watched them walk away then looked back towards you "Something up with Russo? Last time I saw him like that my unit was passing his and Frank's overseas" you shrugged one shoulder as Karen leaned up to look around Brock at you "Couldn't even imagine what's wrong with Billy"

Brock looked from Karen to you "Did I miss something?" You shook your head "Don't worry about it Brock, now tell me more about Darcy"

----------

Billy followed Frank back to the table carrying his drink and yours. He could feel his jaw clench harder when he heard your laughter then got closer to see your head laid over on Brock’s arm as you both laughed.

"What's so funny?" He asked sitting down next to you. You glanced towards him and shrugged "Brock was telling us something about one of the women he works with" Brock was watching you while you talked to Billy and christ a part of him wanted to ask just what the hell Brock was looking at.

What was wrong with him? Rumlow was a decent enough guy. He'd known him for years, why the hell was he getting under his skin so much tonight?

----------

The answer hit him like a brick when a song started playing that he knew you and Karen both loved. Karen's eyes lit up "Frank wanna dance?" The two of them headed for the dance floor.

You sat there for a moment, clearly considering your next option before turning to Brock "I only see you like every six months or so, wanna push me round the dance floor one time?" He nodded "Would be my pleasure doll"

He watched the two of you head to the dance floor and silently fumed. The idea of Brock’s hands on your body was infuriating. Images of you under him flashed through his head, the way your skin tasted on his lips. Christ the way you'd felt.

When the images changed to you under Brock, clinging to him, moaning his name Billy damn near broke the glass in his hand. His eyes flew up to the dance floor and when he spotted you with your body that close to Brock’s he was on his feet without another thought. Fuck this, fuck things left unsaid. If he was going to lose any chance with you tonight, it wouldn't be because he went down without a fight.

----------

"You gonna tell me what's really going on with you and Bill?" Brock asked after a moment. You shrugged looking up at him "I can't tell you"

"Why not?" He asked with a smirk, leaning down a little closer to the point that if anyone just glanced it probably looked like a kiss had been shared. "Promise not to tell" he whispered. You laughed before burying your face into the crook of his neck "We slept together"

"What's that?" He asked so you leaned back to look up at him "We've been dancing around each other then Frank and Karen were gone and we were alone" he laughed and you weren't sure if it was how you worded things or the look you were sure you had on your face "So that's why he's plotted my murder four times?"

You shook your head "It's not like that Brock" he looked over your head and chuckled "Sure about that?" You were about to ask what he'd meant when you heard Billy's voice "Anyway I can cut in? I wanna talk to Y/N"

Your eyes widened when Brock’s reply was "Up to her man. She asked me to dance" you could practically feel Billy bristle up. Any time he got angry enough to fight he was like a tightly coiled spring, like a damn animal ready to pounce. You winked at Brock "Yeah, fine by me" he nodded then leaned down to press a kiss to your cheek before saying "In that case I'm gonna go find Nelson and his girl"

---------

You turned back to Billy and christ his eyes were pitch black. Oh he was angry. "You wanted to dance?" You asked innocently. He reached one hand out to pull you flush against his body "Can we walk outside and talk instead, Doll" the edge he put to the word doll was sharp enough you could feel a shiver run up your spine.

You looked around to see that Frank was looking over at the two of you. "Frank's watching Billy" his eyes never left yours when he said "I don't care" you pushed back from him "I do. You're not gonna ignore me for the most part then act possessive"

A groan left him "Y/N, sweetheart I have never been rough with you but this is one time if you won't stop being a stubborn ass I very well may throw you over my damn shoulder and walk out this bar, Frank be damned" you raised an eyebrow at the threat. Part of you wanted to call his bluff, the other was afraid if Frank got the wrong idea. "Fine. I'll go outside and talk to you"

His hand went to your lower back "C'mon then" you snatched away from him "I'm grabbing my jacket and telling Frank and Karen some excuse" He cut his eyes at you but nodded.

----------

Frank was watching you hard when you walked back over "Everything good?" You nodded, forcing a smile "This place is kinda packed. I need some fresh air so Billy offered to walk me outside"

Frank nodded, looking at Billy before saying "You got her?" Billy nodded "Yeah man. Always" you smiled when Billy offered you his arm in front of Frank so you took it, holding onto it until you were outside.

You snatched away from Billy the moment you were outside "Talk" he scoffed when you walked a few feet away from him. "What are you doing with Rumlow?" He knew you better than he knew himself which meant he knew exactly what button to push to make you just pissed enough that truth would come slipping out your lips.

"The hell you mean?" You asked and he smirked "Oh Brock’s coming. Oh dance with me Brock. You sound like a damn high-school kid at your first dance" you crossed your arms, glaring at him "Fuck you Billy"

He laughed at that, quickly covering the space between you. He left just enough room to not be completely crowding your space "Fuck me huh? Didn't you already do that?"

----------

How dare he be so damn cocky? How dare he know you well enough to know what would get under your skin? "Damn you" you shoved his chest when you spoke "You have side stepped for a week! You wouldn't fucking talk about it! You acted like it didn't happen! If it was just sex you could've told me Billy"

His smirk just got deeper with every word you spoke and every time you shoved against him "Are you done?:" he asked when you stopped talking. You glared up at him. He was do damn close and fuck he smelled good.

One of his hands came up to catch your face and fuck it all you nearly lost all composure then and there at the memories of his hands on your body. "Wanna know what I think?" He asked holding your face in place. "What?" He smiled before surging forward, catching your lips with his own.

His other hand went to your hip and pulled you against his body. You almost whimpered against his lips when he walked you backwards until your back brushed the wall of the bar. He pulled back just enough that you both got a breath of air before attacking your lips again.

You got your senses enough to push his chest. One movement was all it took for him to pause in his actions "What is this Billy? Between us?" He raised an eyebrow trying to catch your lips again and when you wouldn't let him he dropped his forehead to your neck "Tell me you haven't thought about us. Tell me you don't want us" one of his hands moved from your hip, down your thigh to slide under the skirt you were wearing. Your breath caught in your throat at the feelings of his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

"What about Samantha Milton?" You managed to breathe out, feeling his smile against your skin. The hand on your thigh slid up further and when his fingers grazed over your clothed center it took every ounce of will power you'd ever had to not crumple then and there. He caught your lips in a bruising kiss before a smirk slipped onto his face "You're jealous"

He let his hand return to your hip, giving you a chance to think more clearly "and you're not jealous over Brock?" You saw his jaw clench and couldn't fight the urge to make him admit it "Maybe I should go back in there to him" his grip tightened on your hips "I wonder what his tongue would feel like, how his hands on my body would feel"

He leaned down to be face to face "I don't fuckin want Milton. I want you and I know for a fact Brock ain't takin you from me without one of us getting our ass beat tonight. So either tell me here and now you don't want me and I'll go knock that smirk off his face or tell you want me and I'll take you home with me and see just how many times I can get you to scream my name. Hell ill fuck you here and now so the whole of New York City knows you're my girl"

You swallowed hard at his words whether from the fact that he'd called you his girl or that you were trying to ignore the wave of heat they pushed through you. Your decision was made before you ever spoke "Take me home"

#au billy russo #billy russo x y/n #billy russo au #billy russo x you #billy russo fanfic #billy russo x reader

[risunsky]

2023 review

So, was it a good year ?

I think so, I've enjoyed challenging myself, I've tried Beksinski for a second time, Klimt twice, I've done a crossover hellraiser which I'm quite happy with… I made cement for the first time and it was great!

At the 2022 review I said I wanted to do more horror, so I went for gore with all my emaciated skeletons and I'm very happy with that.

September is my favorite of all.

Outside of my fanart world, my biggest freelance achievement has been completing a big comic commission on time and now that the book is out and I've had good feedback from both commissioners and readers I'm relieved and quite proud. It's been a stressful time so it's nice to see that it hasn't all been for nothing. So, even though I'll never stop considering myself as a learner and experimenting with new things, I think that this year I've finally managed to settle on a style, or a range of styles, that I like and that I think I'll stick with for a long time. I've been drawing for a very long time but this is the first year I've felt so strongly that I've found MY style. As for my universe, it seems that somewhere in the horror area of dark fantasy it is my home.

What's planned for 2024?

In terms of priorities, the gift commissions, yeah.... I'm soooo late. I've finished one, but two are still on hold, and have been for at least a year now. I'm terribly sorry about that, because I haven't been overwhelmed like that for a long time, and I intend to sort it out as soon as possible.

It should also be the year I finish the Goya remake. Ideally, I'd like to finish in February because that's my birthday month, or March because that's the anniversary of my discovery of Ghost.

For the rest, don't take it as a promise, because I tend to let myself be carried along by my desires and they are constantly changing. For example, I was planning great things with Nunussy but the poor thing was left on the side of the road. My interest in it just died. it seems that shipping characters and writing an alternative universe for them is not my thing. I have at least 3 shorts comics ideas, more or less ghost related but always mixed with something else. I really really want to work on it but it's a lot of work and this year I need money, like more than usual so I don't know... I also want to do Bloodborne fanart.

The fails

I haven't kept to my plan to draw the other characters in the Ghost lore, oopsy. I still haven't had the time to open any commissions, but last year was really special, working on a big contract that kept me busy for months and that was something new, it was stressful enough. 2024 should be different. I had to show a bit more of my traditional technique, let's say I do it with the Goya project, it's a semi-failure.

Not really a failure: I still haven't come up with a design for an official t-shirt. I think that's because I'm more of an illustrator than a designer and for a good design I need to find a special thing. It's not a big deal for me, just, if it happens it's cool, if not, well, not the end of the world.

To finish

I'd like to thank all those who follow me and who like and share my drawings, including those who remain silent in the shadows - I'm myself a lurker so I understand! Of course, a huge thank you to those who have supported me on ko-fi, it's the first time I've tried this system and I'm happy to have had some support pretty quickly!

my apologies if there are any English mistakes in this text, which is still too long

Have a great festive season!

#text post

[maxwell-grant]

Fuck it, can you expand on your thoughts regarding What Can We Know About Thunderman?

One of the funniest and most horrible things I've ever read partially because like 60% of it is just pages and pages of Alan Moore stating industry facts and names with the serial numbers filed off, and if you have enough comic book brainworms to be reading Thunderman in the first place there will probably be at least one or a dozen references here and there that will spring out of nowhere and hit you like a punch in the gut (the one I remember was the Jack Cole one). A lot of the stuff in Thunderman that reads as absurd funny parody or metaphors too stupid to be real are actual industry facts that Moore has knowledge of, and even the stuff that isn't you can trace a direct line of what exactly it's referring to or who exactly this is referencing.

This is a story in part about how horrible it is to be a sicko with comic book brain worms that is mainly understandable if you're exactly that kind of person. Besides all the references to real-life people and events, most of the modern stuff he's making up are still just as incisive and accurate because literally nothing changed, not even in regards to the movie paradigm ("At last he has attained a semblance to a religious figure. Can we stop now?"). Much of this is Moore dunking on Certain Industry Guys he probably knew and interacted with and indirectly bullseyeing on more recent guys, because a lot of these guys are the same. There are your extremes like the one con-goer here who is pretty much just Max Landis verbatim, but there's also so much that's brutally on-point for industry practices and writers ("What if we had Thunderman do something, and then something happened?") that you can fill in your own names.

It's also an incredibly personal and tragic piece because the core story of it, in between vivid descriptions of Greg Land's office space porn oceans and self-destructive daydreams and rolling catastrophes, is about a guy who deeply loves his art form, deeply loves the creators and artists who gave him so much for so little in his life, and deals with so much horrible toxic bullshit that the only way he finds to live, the only way he finds to not be complicit in the pigsty, is to leave it all behind and work the poison out of his system forever. Like he very openly talks about the protagonist leaving it all behind to go write the next big novel and writing that note, and the non-superhero ideas that will come after, as something that nobody is going to care about, but that he has to do. I don't think I could fully appreciate the sequence where he quits his job at comics and walks out of the office feeling better than ever, until I myself got fired from an incredibly stressful job that made a thing I love (video editing) into the bane of my existence, and no amount of money worries in the world could make me not feel at that moment like I was walking home to the sunniest day of the year.

It wasn't only how much better life was without comics that had startled him, but also how the comics business looked, viewed from outside. How small it was; how cruel and how ridiculous. All the warped personalities the industry either attracted, or else bent and fashioned for itself out of naïve enthusiasts who'd been expecting something else. He couldn't understand why he'd not bailed out of the business years ago, though in a way he could. Part of the answer was just plain human inertia, and part was the fact that, from the inside, comics people and their weird behaviour could seem almost normal.

Dan was grateful he'd escaped in time, though he'd admit that even that escape was qualified. Removing himself from the comics field was one thing, stopping thinking about comics was another. Constantly, he'd find his mind alighting on some decomposing gobbet from the mental garbage-tip of trivia that his career had left him with, when that was the last thing he wanted to be thinking of. He probably should have anticipated some sort of reaction - thirty-something years in any field would leave you with a lot of baggage, and especially an enterprise almost designed to be obsessional, like comics -

His fantasy that he could be a proper literary author, living miles from anywhere and shunning interviews like Salinger or Pynchon, had congealed over this last few months from idle dream to psychological necessity. He'd put his farewell dossier together, and it was published without eliciting much in the way of a reaction or response, but the important thing for Dan was that he'd written it. His lip was better and he could speak normally again, since, for some reason, having quit the comics world, he was no longer trying to eat himself alive. Dan was committed, now, to his new life, and there could be no vacillating. Change or die, those were his options.

And putting aside the fact that "Dan" is killed by the Vince Coletta stand-in and the story itself ends in a much bleaker and more horrible note, to me that feels like Moore being very honest, as depressing as it may be, that nothing else he ever does is gonna get the kind of buzz and following and money and praise that he did for his corporate superhero droppings, and he still doesn't regret one bit what he left behind, and he's going to make the weird magic lizard stories he actually wants to do until he dies and try to not think about superheroes ever again even though he will obviously never fully succeed. Not just because it won't leave him alone, but because it's a part of his life. He loves stories, he loves art, he loves comics, and if not now, he very clearly deeply loved superheroes once, and maybe he still does if he can put aside the sheer nightmare bullshit toxicity attached to them that he's dealt with. I'd even point to a recent occasion he did try just that, with the character of Captain Universe, who accomplishes maybe the only real heroic act in LOEG: Tempest when he stops an atomic bomb from leveling England and ends the story with his big heartfelt wedding.

LOEG is the dead last place you'd expect Moore to place a heartfelt send-off to his superhero work, and much of it gets obscured by that asylum sequence where he savages existing IP capes and the farcical elements of the team and other criticisms at the genre, but it's there, and it's maybe the only story that has a happy ending in the book even. With Captain Universe, a character who has no real history, Moore is able to put all feelings for superhero IP and the big two aside and do this platonic ideal of a superhero and the creative possibilities and hopeful fantasy of a superhero. He's willing to poke holes in the guy and ruthlessly make fun of his shitty allies and villains, but LOEG affords Captain Universe an almost shocking degree of dignity (plus the existence of the canceled Superverse, which was going to be a LOEG-esque project with superheroes done with Rick Veitch tying in to The Show, showing Moore had plans to try writing superheroes again on his own terms even after everything). I think Thunderman in large part is about conciliating these feelings with a large degree of autobiography.

That's one emotional core of the story, but mainly I remember Thunderman for being really fucking funny. The EC Comics hearing. The porn ocean odyssey. Stan Lee Stan Lee-ing so hard he nearly gets killed by gangsters over it and one chapter detailing his transition from person to Character. Marvel was all along a CIA conspiracy to promote radiation poisoning. The chapter that's entirely dedicated to Moore stopping the story to riff and review the Superman movies. This books swings widly and it's an incredibly entertaining read.

And maybe the most horrible thing about Thunderman isn't in the way it's protagonist meets it's end or in the final chapter or even *gestures broadly at all of it*, it might just be the chapter before Alan Moore drops his Superman movie reviews, because with it comes the realization that yes, Alan Moore has been to Reddit, and has looked enough into reddit superhero discourse to be able to plausibly imitate it, which means he probably has sat through at least one argument about him too many. The stand-out of that chapter is the bit where he's riffing on Cavill's mustache fiasco and the DCEU, but it also includes some bits that now read as pretty perfect bullseye jabs at the MCU's current state of affairs.

#replies tag #superheroes #alan moore #illuminations #what can we know about thunderman #comic books #superhero comics

[pomegranate-pen]

Lackadaisy you say? How about some Rocky angst with a fem reader because I am extraordinarily concerned with his well-being in the comics. Thanks for this! Please have a cookie for your troubles 🍪

Rocky Rickaby x gn! reader

(pronouns weren't really needed to be specified here, so one can easily see this as gn! reader.)

warnings: mentions of blood, injuries and gun wounds. implied intense fight and in general, 1920s fiascos. angst with some fluff in the middle. not much of an intense angst I think- kind of ooc rocky if you haven't read the comic???

A/N: first of all, I'm quite shocked and delighted to see that a lackadaisy request was a first one to be sent!! and for my favorite character nonetheless! I was honestly expecting a welcome home one at first, since the x reader for that is much more popular at the moment and thriving. nonetheless, this was a pleasant surprise! second, for some reason, writing angst for someone like Rocky was difficult- even though he has such a tragic childhood, it's hard to make angst x reader for him without making it 20k words full of plot and explaining and expanding relationships- or at least, that's how it is for me. though difficult, I tried my best to give a angsty with some slight fluff fic, for this one I recommend remembering that one chapter in the comics where Rocky got hit in the head and after being patched up was in the car with Ivy and opening up a bit about his childhood, that's the moment i took inspiration from to write this. I'm not sure how to feel about this one, but i truly hope you all enjoy it!!!

On such a rainy night like this, you’ve expected nothing less than staying in your tiny room, a warm sweater comforting you and a hot mug of tea calming your senses, as you look at the rain droplets hitting the window.

However, fate seemed to have other plans for you. for rather than a peaceful night away from chaos, your sweater is stained with splotches of blood and the mug of tea has been long forgotten in your room. the rain doesn’t sound as calming as it had before anymore, rather, it's noisy and it's stressful. With sounds of thunder cackling left and right, your new focus isn't the window in your room anymore, rather, it’s the injured Rocky Rickaby that lies motionless on your couch, a gunshot wound to the shoulder and leg painting his clothes red. his lucky tie, with circles of blood around it, had to be removed, and his pine-strip coat that was riddled with mud had to be thrown to the bathroom sink.

You’re a mere in-training nurse and the three people in your house at the moment- are your neighborhood friends. Being a regular at the little café they worked in has made you know a thing or two about each other. Though, it seems like they left out a big portion of who they truly are away from you and maybe- well surely- everyone else in the public.

Ivy was the one who banged on your door first, a sound so loud that it made you forget the haziness of sleep crawling into your mind and making you jump. As you opened the door, you were met with the frazzled trio, all hair messed up and clothes soaked, droplets of blood leaving a trail to the ground beneath you, and Freckle holding what seemed to be a bloody Rocky in his arms, the latter which was so out of it that for a moment, you thought he was a corpse now.

With a scared gasp, you frantically wanted to ask what happened and what caused such a scene, but realized that there was not much time for an explanation when they laid down Rocky on the couch and pleaded for you to fix him up.

With rookie hands, a left-over roll of bandage, a sewing kit, and some utensils that are normally not suitable for medical procedures, you patched him up and realized some much more unnerving information. 

The gun wound on his shoulder was so close to his neck. if the perpetrator shot one inch higher, then there would be no more strange poems sung in the height of morning, no more talks about different jazz bands around the block or listenings to his tunes as he played the violin, trying to convince you that he’s a prime violin player amongst all the others in Mississippi, maybe even reciting a poem he just thought of at that moment. There would have been no more of the strange waiter you grew so fond of, whom you’ve talked to so much throughout the morning weekends. the one you considered most as a friend than anyone else in the café and new city these past few months. it made your heart drop, and you couldn’t understand why, how are you so hurt by this? why is the idea of his death, of his absence in your life so important to you? you shook your head, annoyed by your own complicated thoughts, your feeling unwilling to cooperate with your mind,

You glance back to your room, the place you offered Ivy and Freckle to rest up in, since they looked extremely exhausted and out of breath. with a bit more focused staring, you could guess that they’ve peacefully dozed off, leaving you widely awake and still unaware of what kind of fiasco they've done.

  Great. You sighed, a yawn almost escaping you as you peered at the clock and realize what time it was. 

2:30 a.m. 

thank god tomorrow was Friday.

 and as much as your limbs and eyes beg for some good shut-eye, your mind was too preoccupied to sleep, too into its own fight with itself to let your heart calm down and rest. so you decided to make some tea and stay close by Rocky, in case he woke up.

The tea took a solid twenty minutes to fully prepare, the preparation for it merely taking less than that. The thunders and storms have stopped, but little pitter-patters of the rain can still be heard. The cup of tea stayed untouched on the table (your mug was still left in your room, and you couldn’t bring yourself to possibly wake up the others by walking in), yet despite your thirst for it a few hours ago, now seeing it, you found yourself unable to freshen up your apetite, and realized that you made the tea as a mere excuse to stay awake.

With the silence and rain your only company, your mind drifted to memory land. Memories of you and Rocky debating about the best breakfast or best poets in the morning of spring, eating pancakes since Rocky insisted that it was the day's special, and it must be cherished as that. you remember how much he spoke fondly of pancakes and how for a moment, he spoke about how his aunt used to make pancakes when he was a child. Rocky never really spoke about his life, let alone his childhood. And so, since the opportunity arose, you decided to ask him a question.

“Were you and your aunt close?”

He tensed up by that, choking a bit on his tea and glancing away from your gaze. “uh…yes? Well, um-“ he gives a nervous grin. Thick eyebrows positioned in a state where you'd think he's done a mistake of sorts. “ I’m closer to Freckle than her.” He didn’t give anything further than that, and with how tense he seemed for a relaxed guy like himself, you decided to not question further.

now with thinking about this day, your suspicion towards everything has increased. has he been lying about everything the entire time? whats his actual job, and what has he done that made him end up like this? the more questions you thought of, the more frustrated you felt.

You’ll admit, you’ve heard some… rumors, about the establishment before, but you just considered them as they were. Simple white rumors existing to just to satisfy the drama-hungry people in this world. But tonight, with the dilated-pupils of Freckle, the out of breathiness of Ivy, and the gun wounds of Rocky, you wonder how much of the rumor was true and how much of who they said they were was a lie.

You felt hurt, offended even. With a now clear mind, you now can presume why they didn’t go to the hospital or an actual doctor and settled for an in-training nurse close to their café instead.

“Mnngh….”

The blurred, tired, and worn-out voice of your companion on the couch made you flinch. Your head twist’s in his direction, as his eyes start to blink a few times slowly, the lids becoming more open with each blink and he soon starts trying to move. He shuffled with his body a bit and as he tries to move his shoulder-

“Wait, Rocky—“

He hissed in pain and falls back down to the couch. You put your palm on his head, checking his temperature just in case.  

“you’ve heated up quite a bit, stay here. I’ll bring you some water.”

Rocky mumbled something, shifting his head left and right and his eyes squinted from the lights in the room. “….where…am I?...” he looks back at you. “are…are you an angel from the heavens?”

If this situation wasn’t so dark, you’d laugh at his cheeky comment. “ No, I’m Y/n, Rocky.”

It took him a few moments to process your words, the moments in which you quickly left to bring the water.

“h-hold on…-“ as he grabs the glass with his healthy arm, his eyes widened. “Y/n?!-aughh-“ from shock, his body tried to move up, completely forgetting the wounds on his body. You put a hand on his head and urged him to lay back down. “if you move too much, your wounds will open up.”

Rocky, however, didn’t seem too worried about the wounds as he tried to hoist himself up a bit so he could lean in the armchair. You helped him out, grabbing his waist and gently pushing him upward so he could lean down. The water, which has spilled a bit on the floor with all the moving, is now chucked down in one gulp. The glass is set down on the table and the questions began.

“how..” he cleared his throat, his head now clear and focused. “ how did I get here?”

“ Ivy and Freckle brought you.”

“and…uh…” he looks away from your serious gaze, ears now lowered in fear and a sheepish look on his face. “have they… enlightened you with the story of this—” he motions to his wounds. “—yet?”

You squint at him, now leaning on the couch with crossed arms. “not yet, but please, Rocky,” your tone shifts into one of tensity. “enlighten me.”

  He gulped, now forcing himself to look straight at you. “well— you see— " he gave a forced chuckle, one where his shoulders moved a bit with and he winced in pain. " there was...this old drunkard! and-"

“Rocky.” You spoke, a ramble of rhymes and fake stories cut off from him. “…I’m not an idiot.” You frowned. Your heart started feeling heavy and your hands kept fidgeting with your clothes.  You werent sure how you could describe what you’re feeling right at the moment, but you knew it was one pent up the entire night and now close to bursting.“ I may have not believed the rumors, but that was because I trusted you.”

“Please, just tell me the truth this time?” He went silent, and that was all you needed to realize that such a thing won't be happening anytime soon. With the stress of the situation now feeling like they’re invading your lungs, you take another breath and look at him with bleary eyes, a pained look on your face and body frustrated with itself for no good reason. “at least…” you take a deep breath. “ be more careful in your next— well, whatever it is you did to end up like this.”

“oh please-“ he huffed, now starting to act a bit more like the Rocky you knew, one where all casualties and warnings are ignored by him. “ this is but a mundane and normal routine for an artist such as myself.”

Usually, you wouldn’t mind his casual behavior towards a serious situation, you would’ve even appreciated it at times, since he always eased your mood with it. But, in such a circumstance, you couldn’t help but look at him with eyes of distraught. “you could’ve died.” Your tone was shaky, and your eyes were welling up with tears. A few started to slip down as you continued. “Rocky if you were just an inch higher- if Ivy brought you just a second later- I-…” you gave out a shaky sigh. “ you would’ve been dead.”

At the sight of your teary and panic induced face, something he’s never seen from you, a pang of guilt seem to hit him. He moved slowly, though his words were laced with shock and were frantic. “hey now, there’s no need for tears!” with his good shoulder, he tried to reach out for your face and wipe some of them away. “ I’m fine now- aren't I? “ he tried to reassure. “ your skills are quite commendable, much better than how Dr.Quackenbush would handle it.”

 While still bawling your eyes out, you rose a brow. “w-which is?...”

“Well, last I heard, using lots of chloral hydrate.”

“y-you’re joking…right?” you sniffled, and to that, Rocky gave a sheepish smile. my god, how is he still alive? even though the words of comfort weren't the best, they eased your concerns at least for a little bit. enough to grab his palm that laid on your face, wiping the rest of your tears away yourself, and holding his hand in yours.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered, looking away. “I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He added, still not meeting your gaze out of guilt. With a few deep breaths, you try to calm yourself down. The stress of the moment now finally leaving your system.

 “how about…” you breathed in and gave him a concerned smile. “from now on, you just get patched up by me?” you sniffled, trying to fix up your shaky voice, which was now toned to embarrassment from the small breakdown you had. “ I wouldn’t mind your company. And it’ll lessen my worry for you, too.”

He went silent for a moment, seeming a bit bashful about this entire thing, especially since he was still in his clothes which are covered with lines of dirt, and his lucky tie isn't around his neck at the moment, and not to mention, his fur was covered with all sorts of dirt and blood, with a tired body comes a tired cat, and he for one, is slowly feeling the exhaustion seeping through him. If he were healthy, he’d have the energy to grin and gawk at the pretty girl who just told him the most romantic line he’s ever received (he’s ignoring the fact that this is in fact, the only one he ever received as well.) if he were more conscious about what he was saying, he’d flirt back a bit in his own way, maybe rhyme a few words and then go back to sleep. But that clearly isn't the case, and the Rocky Rickaby before you is slowly taking his mask off. “…why though?”

“Hm?”

“Why do you worry about me?” he said in a more clear tone, one seeped with confusion and, if you listened just a bit harder, concern. “ I’m…not really worth worrying about.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “Why would you say that?”

He looked at you speechlessly for a few moments, then stared at his hand that was clasped in yours. His hand shifted a bit, yet hesitated to move away further, as if it was contemplating on what to do. but soon after, he took it away and he already missed its warmth. “I’m…not the best person.”

“and…you say that because?...”

He leans his head on his shoulder. “I’ve been told that a lot.”

“Oh…” you felt sympathy for him, his eyes seemed so sunken down, and his head seemed to be up somewhere else. Damn, have you made him remember some unpleasant memories? With a glance to your hands and a gear shifitng in your head, you speak once more. “I…I worry about you because I care for you. and I care for you because you you’re my friend.”

Rocky, in his dosy state, gave a joyful grin. “you think of me as a friend?”

“I mean…we are friends…right?” you felt a bit of fear well up, now wondering if your freindship was moslty one –sided and that you were just being a fool.

“I do enjoy our conversations a lot.” He smiled, eyes focused on the small light source on the ceiling. “I never thought you’d consider me a friend, though. Let alone an aqquiantace.”

“Why do you think I go to the café everyday?” you huffed. “It’s to see you, silly.”

“Giving the good old flriting a try, huh?” he looked away, an annoyed tone not matching his amused and bashful face.

“I’m not flirting, I’m merely telling the truth.” You countered back, now feeling a bit more at ease. “ I enjoy your company.”

“Consider me flattered,” he speaks, and soon, a yawn escapes him. he looks back at you once more. And as the exhasution of the entire day and the sleepiness seeps in him, he is left with a jumble of thoughts that he, if more aware of his surrondings, wouldn’t have speaked up about. “But…” he blinks a few times slowly, now trying to lay back down on the sofa rather than lean. “You’re life is normal, and mine isn’t.”  He takes a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing on the sofa. “If you mix in with mine, you’ll…”

“I’ll what?”

“…you’ll probably hate me.” he mumbles, now head sinking deeper into the small pillow. “I don’t want that to happen.”

You hold his hand once more, gazing at him softly as you sighed. “And it won’t. I promise.”

He stirs a bit, now half-asleep. And as he falls into a deep sleep, one which he looked bothered in, he mumbles out one single sentence, one that begun the change in your relationship that you never could’ve expected. Because for once, Rocky Rickaby cares for someone so deeply, that he’s willing to stay away from them for their own good. To the point where you never see him anymore, and Ivy and Freckle never mention him around you, as if he was a mere figment of your imagination. Rocky Rickaby wants you to lead a normal good life, and as thanks for the help, he’ll do exactly that for you.  for if you’re shedding tears on a simple injury on a shoulder, than you’re not capable to withstand the unlucky streak he has in life, and he doesn’t blame you at all.

“ me too.”

#lackadaisy x reader #lackadaisy #rocky rickaby #rocky rickaby x reader #x reader #reader insert #fanfiction #rocky x reader

[ectonurites]

I haven’t been keeping up with current dc comics, what’s happened with Kon? I keep seeing people talk about it but it’s all vague

Basically, Kon had a really fun and overall good mini called Superboy: The Man of Tomorrow which ended this week. This book ended with Kon in a good place and having really seemed to find his place in the world again after the rough last several years (since getting reintroduced in YJ 2019 into a world that didn't remember him) he's had. That book ended technically last week via digital release, but this week in terms of the physical release.

But then... also this week... we found out via a Bleeding Cool article on Sunday that there was going to be a backup story featuring Kon in Action Comics this week which... suddenly made Kon/M'gann—a ship that originated in the Young Justice cartoon which has literally nothing to do with main continuity comics, a ship between two characters who have barely if ever spoken a fucking word to one another in actual main continuity—be dating. With absolutely no build up.

Queue people being concerned/stressed/angry/etc etc. And now today the issue dropped. And well it's just as bad as it seemed like it was going to be.

It basically just... manages to mention Superboy: The Man of Tomorrow while also regressing Kon back as if the development he had in that book hadn't happened at all, have Kon be ridiculously rude to Ma Kent out of nowhere in a way he never has been before (like... even the at-many-times bratty Superboy '94 era Kon wasn't like that towards her! it is seriously out of nowhere i am utterly fucking baffled), stick him back in fucking high school again (as if YJ 2019 hadn't... had him explicitly on page decide he was done with that and done with just trying to be a carbon copy of Clark BEFORE he even got sent to Gemworld!), and just have a poor grasp on his current history/his personality/his voice as a character imo.

I have seen several people point out that the writer of this backup story doesn't actually have anything else with Kon currently slated so it's very possible that other books may not really be paying all that much mind/attention to this story/the characterization/choices in it, and so while it's frustrating that it exists it could in the end not have the biggest impact on things in the long term, but it's still just... wow. It feels like such a slap in the face after Superboy: Man of Tomorrow, I can tell ya that.

And like... one thing I do want to note, is that in the comments the writer has made about this story on twitter, she's made it clear part of what she was going for here is trying to approach who Kon could be outside of/after Superboy... but I simply do not think undoing the character work that was literally just done with him is the right way to approach that. I think from where things left off in Superboy: The Man of Tomorrow one could easily have started to ask those sorts of questions and approach that subject without backtracking and random retcons and OOC behavior which all make it really frustrating to read for longtime fans of the character.

#dc spoilers #tuesday spoilers

[eggsploded]

Ishy for the character ask! :•)

fish meal :)

initial impression: i thought she was kinda boring TBH.. her underlying insanity wasnt really prominent in the prologue when everyone else is so much stranger

current impression: projmoons hamster in the microwave. women described as being a wee lad. essential worker. banished to the yuri mines. ishy needy drinky. they atleast graced her with soupmael after these chapters of suffering. godspeed queen. anyway shes so fucking stressed its comical i think she has a lobotomy corp qliphoth counter in her head that drops to 0 the moment heath talks and all hell breaks loose. shes a true 'im the most normal person here everyones insane' delusional queen. you drink turpentine to get drunk girl!!!!!

favorite moment: weirdchamp moment with her and rodya forcing meemaw to bed went hard. also shes just so backhandedly mean to dante in the voicelines its crazy

story idea: in a way i dont want a story idea for her. i want her to sit down and nothing happens for her own peace of mind and safety alternatively i just had a vivid mental image of her devouring hardtack and it was really funny

favorite relationships: shes really a yuri messiah for the fanbase because shes mmmmaybe the most normal woman in the cast. ill be real i dont have any strong ships for her because deep down i yearn for someone to be the homoerotic sailor next to her equally leyendecker existence. ishdon has cute art and she makes a good knight. faumael popping off HARD rn and they def got potential but i feel like their unique insanity types kinda mellow out together instead of enhances making their relationship just regular toxic (lame..). my favorite yuritype is probably outishmael because they got some common ground and hate eachother at the same time. the intrinsic horror of having a crush on your coworker that also happens to be the overbearing old hag that yells indoors.. in a fun and thought provoking way. platonically i hope she and meur are on good terms as seat buddies. does she let him use her hair as a blanky? are they level 2 friendship enough to lean on eachother when tired?

favorite headcanon: shes built like a brick. atomically more dense than the average human. curvature in her frame exists only theoretically. i think she and meur weigh their bus seat down. the hair is a floatation device to counteract this effect when shes in water. scientists call this the ishmael buoyancy factor

#egg asks #egg art #limbus company #ishmael

[elliehearts]

Direct confession (Part 1)

Yan!Arven x Reader

Summary: Arven confessed to you through a letter but you lost it. You were sad about it but Arven was grateful you couldn’t read it.

Warnings: This fic contains Fluff and Yandere behavior (plot twist?); Death threats, lies, Arven being cute and sweet but at the same time scary xd

Notes: This fic is inspired by a mini fanfic that i saw in Pixiv of the artist: たすかわ. I know very little japanese but i could understand the idea of the comic. In the Part 2 will be NSFW I promise.

You were full of exams in these lasts months, you were stressed and tired but for your luck, today you have the last exams of the year. When you finished your test you felt like a weight was released from your back. You were happy that your study days were over, well, until the next year. But now, a well-deserved vacation is coming for you.

You left the classroom with a big smile, you said goodbye to your classmates wishing them a good vacations. You went straight to your locker and it took you by surprise to see Arven in there. “Arven?” Apparently you scared him since he gave a little jump with a yelp. “L-little buddy! What are you doing here?” He asked you while he was hiding something on his back. “Eh… You're in my locker. What are you doing here?” You looked him with curiosity.

“Well… Ah! I was looking my notebook that I lend you, the biology one? I need it for tomorrow.” He smiled at you nervously. “I gave it back to you yesterday and tomorrow there is no classes. Are you okey?” Arven looked everywhere except your eyes amd then a piece of paper fall behind him, it was a letter. You took it before him. It had your name written on it, you turned it around and you noticed that had a heart as a seal. “I-I can explain! you don’t nee-” “Arven…” you interrupted him, looking at him with a blush in your face. “This letter… is for me?” You thought that he wrote the love letter. There was a silent for a few seconds.

“I-If you want, i can read it now o-or later.” You were embarrassed about the situation, it was the first time someone confess to you. Arven took your hand, the one that held the letter. “You can… say your answer tomorrow.” You both were red as a tomato. “O-okey.” Without saying anything else, you walked away clumsily to your room. You were so deep in your thoughts that you didn’t realize Arven had taken the letter from you.

You were lay down with a pillow in your face, covering your screams. You were so happy that you couldn’t stop to turn in circles in your bed. You had a crush on Arven for a very long time, he's so attentive, he always worries and he’s very cute with you. You always dreamed how your confession would be, your dates and even your wedding. But you were so afraid to lose this friendship that you hid your feelings.

“I didn’t ask where…” you told yourself when you notice you only agreed on the day. You took your Rotom(Or cellphone) to open the chat with Arven, you texted him but he didn’t answer, minutes pass and nothing. You thought he was busy or maybe he feel pressured by you. The confession was supposed to be subtle but you arrived before he could put the letter on your… The letter! You don’t have it and you haven’t read it either, you don’t even remember where you put it.

You ran out of your room to the lockers, hoping that the letter was on the floor or somewhere, unfortunately you didn’t find it. You desperately searched for it but it wasn’t there. You went to the halls to search but on the way you saw Arven corning your classmate and he looked scared. You took one more step and you classmate saw you and seconds later Arven look at you but his hair covered his face. “What’s going on?” Your classmate didn’t say anything, he just sidelong glance at Arven with fear. “Nothing. We were talking about the afternoon class, right Agustin?” Your crush was smiling at you, like nothing happens but you feel something was off. “E-eh yeah, it’s nothing… excuse me.” Agustin ran away from you two, you looked at him confused and worried. He seems he was about to cry.

Gave you chills when you felt hand on your shoulder. “And what are you doing here, Litte buddy?” He asked you normally, pretending he didn’t do anything to your classmate. You wanted to confront him about it but when you process the question you remember what you were doing. “Oh well, I came here to…to…” Arven looked at you with his cute teal eyes, patiently waiting for you. You wouldn’t like to tell him the true but you didn’t want to break his heart for not reading his feelings. “I'm so sorry, Arven. I lost your letter… I still have things in my head and I get distracted very easy. I'm sorry.” You lowered you glance sadly. Then you felt how he pets your head with kindness. “It’s okay, don’t be sad about stupid things.” “What? No! Your feelings are not stupid, there are very important.” It bothers you a lot how Arven denigrates himself sometimes. “I really wanted to read it, I mean it.”

Arven covered his mouth, hiding his stupid smile. “W-well, in that case.” He cleared his throat, he take your hand and you blushed by the contact. “What do you think if I tell you directly?” You didn’t process very well what he told you until you walked together to his room. It’s not the first time you go to his room but this time it felt different. You entered first and Arven closed the door behind you. You weren’t going to deny it, by how you both looked to each other, there was tension in the air.

You sit down on his bed, waiting for him quietly while he served you a glass of water. Seconds later he sat next to you, still smiling at you. “So, you want to hear my confession?” Both of you were nervous especially Arven, but he was trying to stay calm. “Mmh, how do I start?” He asked himself while looking on the ceiling. “You don’t remember what you wrote?” You were confused by his actions. His smile disappeared for a few seconds but then he looked at you again. “I wrote a lot of things, so I can remember how I started.” He was right, your question was stupid so you decided to keep quiet.

“I noticed you since Mabosstiff regained his strength.” You started to notice him during that time too, how crazy that’s. “You know, during my entire childhood I was alone. I had never felt the love or someone else's concern on me that wasn’t my pokemon. I thought nobody is worth to be with until I met you.” You were looking at him with shining eyes. “Your desire to help is admirable, you put others before yourself and you make anyone smile, that’s lovely. Just being yourself make my heart go fast, make my face red, makes me want to be with you.” You felt your heart pounds a thousand for his words. “I want to create memories with you, I want to see you smile, I want to be able to protect you from anything, I want to help you when you feel down because I really care about you and I want you to be happy.” You were melting from how sweet he was being with you. “I want to feel alive with you… To be honest, If it hadn’t been for you my life would have gotten worse.” Suddenly, tears welled up in Arven's eyes. He realized he was crying and quickly covered his face in embarrassing. “How pathetic.” He told himself while he tried to stop his tears.

You quickly went to give him a hug. “It’s okey Arven. Thank you, that means a lot to me. I want to be with you too, I-I really like you, I wish I could tell you something else as well… It’s not that I don’t want to! it’s just I… I’m speechless.” His words reached so deep into your heart that you think your words would be lame compared to him. You both looked at each other with embarrassment, you didn’t know what to do, so slowly you get closer to each other to kiss tenderly. He ran a hand over your hot cheeks to get you closer, the kiss was sweet but durable. You separated and join their foreheads, you were burning for the situation but you both were smiling with happiness. “I'm glad you accepted my confession. I love you.” Arven speak to you with a low but sweet tone. “Yeah, me too.”

You nervously held hands and hugged for long while. For both of you, this will be your first relationship so obviously you'll be nervous and ashamed but at least you were happy together. You were jumping with happiness in your mind because your fantasy come true, well, it’s wasn’t exactly as you thought but who are you to demand. Arven on the other hand was also happy but relieved at same time, not only that you accepted his confession, but it’s was because you believed his lie. Don’t worry, what he said about you came from the botton of his heart but the true is, Arven didn’t plan to confess to you today or tomorrow, he didn’t even written that letter.

From the beginning, Arven over hear a conversation from your classmate, Agustin, that he was in love with you and he was going to confess to you through a letter, which he left it in your locker. Arven quickly went to your locker to wipe out before you saw it but you arrived just in time, he panicked, tried to hide it in his pocket. He almost fall in despair when the letter slipped and you took it but for his luck, you thought it was his and Arven took advantage of that to lie to you. When you left, He quickly destroyed the letter and threw away on the trash, he was very pissed with Agustin, not just because he ruined his perfect plan to confess to you on the beach in a very romantic way, It’s because he dared to confess to you.

With a scary look he went directly to Agustin and when he found him, he corner him. “H-hey Arven, what’s up?” Your classmate asked nervously, it’s wasn’t very common to see Arven like this. Yeah, Arven isn’t an easy guy to deal with but he wasn’t aggressive, right?

Arven was non-stop saying him how he was out of your league, that he wasn’t for you and never will be. In short, he belittled him, insulted him and threatened him so that he wouldn’t bother you again. Obviously Agustin was affected by his words but he wasn’t going to let him treat him like that. “I-I don’t care what you think. I going to tell (Y/N) how I feel and-” “Do it and I'll break your neck.” Arven was being dead serious, never in his life had wanted to kill someone. Now, he wasn’t going to do it but he wasn’t going to let him go just like that either, he had to make it clear to him but you arrived in time, again. Believe or not you saved someone's sanity.

The good thing is that all that tension was gone just by being with you but still, he was stressed for not being able to confess to you on the way he wanted it or maybe, he can still do it. “Hey Little buddy, what do you think if we go to the beach tomorrow?” Your eyes shone for his proposal. “Sure! It would be our first date!” “Yeah, our first… I'll make sure you never forget it.” It gave you tenderness to see how Arven wanted to memorize your first date even though he didn’t say it innocently.

#arven pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #arven x reader #arven fanfic #pkmn arven #arven #obsessive yandere #yandere #yandere Arven #first confession