#i'm sorry i couldn't draw the rest of the gang | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

queenendless · 8 months

Text

🚚Moving Day (Adult!SatoSugu x Fem!Reader)🚚

A/N: Also from my Curses Love book on Wattpad.

This AU has them both as teachers at Tokyo JJ High, you can see curses, you're in a poly relationship with them. IMPLIED MATURE THEMES INSIDE!

For those that have been reading and liking these shorts, thank you. S2 is back and of course I'm a wreck. Also want a Gojo, Geto, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna x Reader gang bang ... idk how I'll write one cause drawing in general is hard for me now.

Credit for the characters/series goes to Gege sensei. I own nada but this show and these two own my soul!😫😭🤧

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope you enjoy.

"Uh, Y/n-chan, you're certain you can carry all that by yourself?"

"My stuff. My concern." You struggled speaking as your form struggled carrying those big boxes of yours in your arms; breathing deeply through your nostrils to keep your focus despite your knees quivering. '"I - I'm fine!"

Suguru sighed before snapping his fingers. Several of his curses floated amok and carried the boxes right out of your arms in time before you plopped forward from the imbalance, only to be pulled back flushing your back against Geto's front.

"Honey, it's alright. Satoru and I can handle the rest of your things. You shouldn't be pushing yourself too hard on your first day here."

"I'm sorry. I'm just ... nervous. This is all new to me ... but I still want to help at least."

Geto hummed, nodding in understanding, before kissing you tenderly on the forehead, smiling calmly. "Well thank you love. Having you living with us now is worth all the effort."

"In that case," You grabbed your duffle bag of stuff with ease, smiling, "I'll handle this."

The giddy stride of the oldest of you three popped up in the living room archway, swaying his smart phone about. "Suguru~! I was thinking we get sushi to celebrate Y/n-chan living with us now~! Sushi Go is my top choice, of course! Ginza, here we come – !"

"Satoru. Unpacking first. Eat later. Remember?" Suguru groaned.

"Eh?! Who paid to have all Y/n-chan's stuff packed and moved here in the first place? At least my family's fortune has some good use in this case." Gojo wearily spoke when his family gets brought up. "Anyhow ..."

Gojo swept Geto in one arm and you in the other with such ease, cheeriness immediately taking over. "House tour time~!!!"

Geto's exasperated smile and your giggling self at Gojo's boundless energy gave him that extra burst in his step while giving you the tour of every place in your shared private home nestled in suburbia. "Living room for binge time and cuddles, kitchen where Suguru will stuff our faces with such goodness, pool for soaking antics, hot tub for burning passion –!"

"We get the picture, Satoru." Geto's flushed, smug grinning face at the commentary had Gojo snickering, nodding his head in your direction.

"I don't know~ Looks to me our darling Y/n-chan is tongue tied right now~" Gojo chuckled lightly as you couldn't look at either of them at the moment.

"Not because of you, for sure." Geto snorted.

"Eh?" Gojo's smug ass bubble popped, following Geto's finger pointing at what enraptured you.

Setting you down gently, letting you slip away from his grasp, both men watched with affectionate smiles as you slid the glass doors aside to step out onto the back patio to see up close.

Your eyes sparkled in childlike wonder at seeing how expansive the back yards were. Lots of stone pathways, different oriented trees planted all over, rolling hills teeming with so many blooming flowers, and a view of the mountains in the distance. "Wow," You breathed out in mesmerized wonderment.

Feeling an arm drape around you, you were pulled flush against Geto's side. "This is yours, love."

"That's right. It's all ours." You both yelped as you were both now carried easily under Gojo's arms; wrapped around your waists and hanging like luggage. "And finally, last but far from least~!"

"Satoru, we can walk just fine, you know." Geto sighed, a bit peeved but mostly willing to let his lover's antics continue.

"The best room of them all!" Him kicking down the door helped enunciate the importance of this room; startling you and furthering Geto's bewildered amusement, "Our love making suite~!"

You squealed as he threw you to the bed, springing up at the bouncy, comfy master bed that was quite big for you three. Geto was thrown in after you on one side before Gojo belly flopped to the other, entrapping you in a cocoon of their arms, their enriching laughter mingling with their beautifully smiling faces turned you on hard.

The burning realization had you hiding your flustered self against the sheets.

"See~?! Now that's hot and bothered if I ever saw it~!" Gojo swooned, turning to his side as he one armed you from behind. "Makes me wanna kiss you so bad~" He heatedly breathed in your ear, cheekily grinning at your soft pleased mewl.

Geto smirked knowingly, laying on his side with his cheek resting in the palm of his propped-up arm, singing, "Toru~ About that lesson plan for the first years you said you'd draft up by today?"

"Ehhh~? Hands on practice will do just fine, Sugu~ Kinda like what we'll all be doing later tonight ... or right now~ Whaddaya say, sweetie~?" Gojo hummed as he gently grabbed your shoulder and flipped you to lay on your back.

"Can I at least unpack my duffle bag first?" You had to ask, hugging said bag to your chest. Geto's snorting face and Gojo's jaw slacked expression made you feel so dumbfounded as you tried sitting up while unzipping your bag. "And what about sushi~?" You whined, pouting.

Geto chuckled lightly, kissing you to cheer you up, winking at you both. "Unpack, eat, then smash. Kay, Toru~?"

Gojo dramatically sighed, collapsing in mock defeat. "Fine~! You're lucky I love you both." His own pout was wiped away instantly as you leaned down to peck his lips, too quick and short to his liking, as he sat up and watched you putting away the rest of your things around the room with Geto cuddling up beside him as he watched right along.

They wouldn't admit it out loud but they were both feeling grateful to share their personal private lives not just with each other, but also with you; their third partner.

A regular turned recent curse seer that just happened to work as a Window at Jujutsu Tech; their turf, only to bump into them both in passing ... the rest is history.

Seeing you finally put your bag away in your shared giant closet had them both glomp you from behind, smirking widely as they both had their own cheek to chew on and smooch to their liking and your giggling self.

Yep, living with the strongest sorcerer pair will be quite the treat.

1K notes · View notes

sameschmidtdiffname · 3 months

Text

Tumblr WILL NOT let me post the fic and this ask at the same time and I've tried legit five times. So THANK YOU anon for the request and I'm sorry for the weirdness in uploading. Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoy this!

My Ghost.

Billy x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: You don't know what happened that night. Things were fine, life was good, then your partner is on the news for all sorts of shit you never would've thought him capable of the day prior. He was dead, he was evil, and you were trying to move on. But what's the proper etiquette when the dead show up on your door unannounced?

Tags: No use of Y/N, hurt/comfort, fake death, mentions of drinking, drug use/dealing, grieving, arguing, cursing, flashbacks, brief suggestive scenes, suicidal thoughts.

Other Works in This Series: 'Repentance' (Prequel to 'My Ghost') • 'Lapses' (Sequel to 'My Ghost')

Notes: The way I've been trying to upload this for two hours. Oh my fucking God. Anyways, everyone say thank you to anon for getting me to write something that doesn't make God cry.

-¤°》◇《°¤-

I'm not hard to please, but I'm not desperate despite what the rumors may say.

People enjoy gossip. People who don't know fuck all about you. And my standards are fine. Were fine. And I don't mean standards such as 'buys me flowers everyday' or 'doesn't deal coke.' I mean standards such as 'is a decent fucking person.'

"That's what I thought you were up until all of this fucking... disappearing for months!" I scream, anger fueling me. I don't let the other emotions win out, don't let them have a say. Because if I do, I'll be too conflicted and overwhelmed and then I'm gonna cry, and that's not fair.

People had warned me he was trouble. Terms such as 'wannabe cowboy,' 'rebel without a cause' were tossed around in warning. But to me, he was just Billy.

Then he was dead.

Now, he was here. He showed up at my door nine months after leaving me with a small little keychain on the kitchen table and a soft kiss on my forehead, saying he had some plans for that evening. But he'll be back soon.

Then he was on the news. And a gas station blew up. Gangs, stolen vehicles. He was probably dead. Things would be easier if he was dead.

Fine. Maybe I initially ignored warning signs. Maybe I was distracted by his handsome side profile, too busy admiring his nose to notice the occasions it was dusted with the trace of a fine powder. Maybe his hands were too beautiful for me to realize they were slipping money to men in dark jackets when we went out to the rougher parts of town. But he was mine and I was his, and overall he was a good person.

He was alive. He was alive and I was mad because if he was dead then at least it would be valid that for nine months I have had to deal with the accusatory stares of our neighbors assuming I knew, the pity from my loved ones, and the betrayel that kept me awake at night. It would mean he hadn't left me to deal with his repercussions, that maybe there was a valid excuse. An undiagnosed brain tumor that finally gave way to insanity, a gun to his head. Something that was not the worst case scenario of just... being an awful person. I could let his things rest around the house undisturbed, hiding from the world and waiting to find the courage to join him one day and living in denial in the meantime. What the fuck was all of this?

"I couldn't tell you," he keeps saying. "It was better if you knew nothing until I was sure I could come get you."

"Why didn't you just take me with you from the start?" I ask. I've been pacing the floor for the past twenty minutes ever since he showed up. It was better than throwing every breakable object in the cheap, worn down shack of a house at him, which was my second instinct. My first was to pull him into my arms, draw the curtains shut and hide him away so that he'll never leave again. Like an idiot.

He laughs bitterly. "You would not be asking that if you knew what the fuck I went through," he says. His words sound like they should be angry, but there's this lightness to them like he can't let himself think too much about it. It just makes me angrier.

"Don't fucking laugh!" I snap. "Do you think any of this is funny?"

"I think you're funny when you're mad," he deflects, smiling. "You got this whole routine. Pacing, nose twitching. I like the Shirley Temple stomps, like you're a kid."

I groan loudly, the noise almost sounding like a low scream in my throat.

"You owed money to fucking- who?" I yell.

"The details don't matter-"

"When I have been grieving your death for nine months, they fucking matter!" I snap. His brows furrow, his hands mid air as if to say 'the fuck did I do?'

"You know me, okay? I don't get caught," he says as though it were obvious.

"I know fucking nothing!" I practically scream.

When we met he was just a guy at a bar, handsome, wearing that same ridiculous jacket that I couldn't help but stroke the white fluff on, tequila running through my veins.

"Can I help you?" He asked, smirking.

"Just wanted to see what it felt like," I said.

"Wanna feel something else?" He asked, his chin resting on his head.

"Oh, fucking gross. Fuck o-"

"I was talking about this," he said, whipping out his keys to show off an odd, weirdly shaped keychain with short, stiff fuzz. "Don't call me a pervert just cause you're one."

He was smiling. It was an easy smile. Careless, happy with life. I loved that smile. It meant things were always alright as long as he was smiling.

He was smiling on the photo they used for the manhunt.

We'd danced the whole night. He didn't know hardly any of the songs, causing him to be off beat. I was too drunk to keep time, so I stepped on his leather boots enough times there was a visible scuff on the top of one by the end of the night. I always felt bad, offering to replace or help pay to fix it. He wouldn't let me.

"They're a keepsake," he'd insist. "A living memory." He wore them everyday.

He's wearing sneakers, today.

At the end of the night, I stumbled out of the bar with a note in my coat pocket. It took two weeks for me to wear that coat again, and when I found the slip I'd almost thrown it away, assuming it was something dumb. But when I saw the worst handwriting in the world displaying a number belonging to someone named 'Keychain Guy,' I almost couldn't wait to call.

"Bullshit," Billy snaps. "You know me better than anyone."

"Don't say that," I say, putting a hand out protectively to keep him away. "That's exactly why everyone thinks I was just fine with that whole- fucked up thing!"

A gas station burned. A stolen vehicle. People were dead. People were dead.

Billy was presumed dead.

There was no funeral. He had no family, and none of mine wanted to put money into something that would be protested by the whole town anyways. No body to bury, nothing to do but gather up his things and smoke what remained in his stash until people came to nurse me back to life. By that point there wasn't even relief in drugs. The taste simply reminded me of better times cooking in the kitchen as we blew the smoke into each others faces, or worse. Better. Whatever.

I never questioned when Billy went out of town. I knew his work had details I didn't want nor need to know. Money was tight. But Billy always came home with little things whenever he went on unexpected trips. Knick knacks, snacks, some item I'd seen at the store and picked up to make a comment about. Had he been particularly forthcoming about his dealing when we started dating? No. He said he worked for a local small business, which technically isn't untrue. But about six months in, he was the one who approached me and sat me down at the small, rickty round table to tell me the truth. And that's what mattered to me. The economy is shit and it's not like it was meth, so who am I to judge?

About a year into it, I was begging for him to do something else.

"I don't like you disappearing," I told him. "I'm scared one day you're gonna piss someone off and that'll be the end. Then what am I gonna do?"

"Then you're gonna make sure they don't fuck up my face during the embalming process for the funeral," Billy said around his hand rolled cigarette. I whip the small dish towel at him, making him laugh and protect his small ashtray that I made him for Christmas the year prior. It was shitty, uneven, and I'm 99% sure a fire hazard. But he wouldn't use any other ones unless I was the one who bought them for him, and even then he favored this one. 'When this place goes up in flames,' I thought, 'I'll regret that gift.'

I'd kept it by the kitchen window every day since he'd died. "Died." It was his spot.

He moves to sit there now, looking in his pockets for the small box of prerolled cigarettes.

"People know you weren't involved," he says dismissively.

"Your friends know. What about the old ladies at church? The checkout clerks at the store? How about the fucking mailman?" I shout, convinced I'm still talking to the dead. "You think they know the ins and outs of the local psychos support group?" I ask, gesturing and stepping closer.

I was the local outcast now. Not to be trusted, not worth kindness. Shame was my title, and when Billy appeared on my doorstep at an hour where only I was awake I was sure I'd caught the same awful disease that must have been what sent him spiraling that winter day. It wasn't until he pushed the door open fully, taking me into his arms and pressing a warm kiss to my lips that I knew he was real. It was a feeling I was in the early stages of forgetting, blurry and cold. But here he was, the stubble on his chin a bit longer and his ears missing the small hoops that had glittered in the sunlight when he walked out the door.

Then I'd pushed him away. And the fight began.

"I'm not a fucking psycho," he argues. His hands pat around his outfit, searching. "You got a lighter?"

"Fuck off." I kept his favorite in my left pocket. I had to be careful what things of his I wore or kept on my person. People close to me knew I would have never condoned his actions, but even they had glared at me in the early wake of Billy's death when I dared to wear one of his shirts out of the house, or more commonly one of his thick leather jackets. But a lighter can be hidden, and unless you had borrowed it you wouldn't know it had specifically been his. So I kept it with me all the time, just feeling it next to my skin with the only barrier being the fabric of my pocket. Without a thought, I cover the small item as though he can see right through me. Picking up on the hint, he's rises from the table and begins walking over to me.

"Don't be a dick, just let me borrow it," he says, holding out his hand.

"Fuck off," I snap.

"You've said that. I just need it for two seconds," he says as his hands begin to gently grab at me, one on my shoulder and the other dipping into my pocket.

"Get the fuck off of me!" I yell, slapping at him.

"Just let me have-"

He cuts himself off as he pulls out the lighter from my pocket, his thumb grazing over the printed picture. The Statue of David. He'd bought because it made us laugh. One side was the regular statue, the other a close up of its small genitals with cursive writing underneath spelling the art piece's name.

"Oh," Billy says quietly.

We stand for a moment, silent. He doesn't seem sure what to do. My lungs burn with unheaved sobs. I fucking hate this.

"You were gonna come back," I finally say quietly. I hate how my voice sounds when I'm upset. I hate that I'm wearing his dogtag, an item he'd bought at a World War II museum in middle school that he gave me for our first Christmas because we were both too broke to actually buy each other anything, hence the poorly made ashtray. I hate that when I sleep at night it's in his clothes that I rarely wash because the idea of losing his smell makes me want to scream. I hate that his scent is different from the bottle of cologne he kept next to my makeup, one time spilling all over the entire bathroom counter because we'd gotten too wrapped up in each other, dragging our nails down each others backs and watching ourselves in the mirror until one wrong move of my hand revealed he'd been a bit too careless about screwing the lid back on earlier in the day. I'd always warned him about that.

I'd been in the bathroom putting on my permanently scented blush when I got the text.

"I was going to," he said softly. "Then I couldn't."

"So what?" I say, not daring to turn and face him, choosing instead to stare at where the cheap, old wood paneling of the wall meets the shaggy, stained carpet that you have to wear shoes on due to the staples that have begun sticking out of it. "You just propose to someone and then pretend to die?"

Valentines Day was an awfully cheesy day to do it. So it's a good thing it was a technicality.

The day had been lovely. Billy had saved up a little to take me to a local hibachi place, telling me to wear my best outfit and jewelry. It was slightly overkill, but it's the small things in life, isn't it?

We'd come home with a bottle of wine, a low budget movie to ignore and hands searching desperately for each other.

"I love you," he'd said between pants. "You're mine."

"Buy a ring," I'd dared. Our minds were buzzed, the bottle half empty and our clothes thrown away without care. Took me weeks to find his both of his socks.

I hadn't meant for him to take it seriously. But I guess he decided it was time.

Two days later I thought it was odd when he walked into the house with my favorite lunch. It wasn't expensive really, we just usually got it for special occasions or days that had been mentally harder for me. And things were normal that day. I was getting ready for my shift, running around like I always do trying to make sure I've got everything.

"Your coffee's in the cup, will you just sit down?" He laughed, watching me. I quickly collected the take out box, sipping my coffee and wincing over its temperature.

"Fuck, that burns," I cursed. He wrapped his arms around me, trying to get me to sit at the table. "Baby, I can't," I protested softly, but I was laughing. He was peppering me in kisses, giving me those big puppy dog eyes everyone knew were my weakness. He wanted for nothing so long as he looked at me just like that.

"Just this once," he asked, pressing a kiss to my cheek. I couldn't help the blush and giggle that rose from me, but I also couldn't be late.

"I'll make up for it," I promised, slipping away and running into the bedroom to get my shoes. When I ran back in, pulling them on and coming to kiss him goodbye, I nearly fell over when I saw him on one knee, smiling and looking at me like 'I told you so.'

I don't like how itchy the ring feels on my middle finger as I twirl it in thought.

"You don't know what happened," he pleaded, his hands still on me. "If you would just listen to me-"

"The news gave a pretty good description, William. I don't think there's missing pieces in my head, unlike you," I say coldly, detaching from myself so to not have to deal with my emotions. This makes him stiffen, pulling away and resuming his place at the kitchen table, lighting his cigarette and placing the ashtray in front of him like nothing has changed when everything has.

It feels like I'm out of time. Like I've been shoved into a picture of what my life looked like before. Except the house was never this clean, clothes always scattered about. Not just in a fit of passion, we just had bad habits when it came to picking up. Billy would always say the chairs are more decorations then they are seats, anyways. "Why would you use those when you have such a nice seat here?" He'd ask, wiggling his hips and placing his hands behind his head, making me laugh.

Billy never looked so well put together in the house, usually in a wife beater and his hair framing his face. He'd always joked he looked like a dirty hippie around me, and I'd always show him how much I liked that. Not that he looked fantastic now. When we went out he was known for putting in effort. He always had more hair products than me, which I found funny. Though he refused makeup. Once I'd managed to talk him into eyeliner. 'Guyliner' I'd teased. He liked it, but said it should stay between us with a wink before asking where to get dinner. Now he sits before me in clothes obviously stolen to help him look unremarkable, his hair shaggy and uncut, so different from the man I loved.

"Who are you?" I asked him. That man didn't shrink away from accountability.

He sighed, smoke swirling around him as he wipes his face with his hand.

"I don't know. Can't tell if I'm better or worse, to be honest," he admits softly. His eyes look haunted, heavy bags underneath. It's the way his shoulders sag as though his will to go on is slowly draining from him in this very moment that makes me want to break now. Like whatever reason he had for still going was fruitless.

I didn't like the way we mirrored each other like this.

I slowly scuff my feet towards him, tapping my fingers against the back of the wooden chair before pulling it out to sit across from him. It's a start.

"So if you tell me," I say slowly. "Am I going to wish you were dead?"

He doesn't look at me. "I don't know."

Great.

The night is long. Morning comes without an invitation, the blue sky beginning to glow through the shitty blinders I always told Billy we should replace one day. I understand less than when we started, we've both cried more than once, and between our fingers is cigarette stubs and the feeling of each others skin, hands laced together as though another click of an old remote to an outdated TV with batteries you had to rub against your shirt to make work would reveal the smouldering remains of a gas station, displaying the estimated body count and deeming one of us as a devil of the worst kind, ripping us apart.

"Jesus," I say when it's over.

"Yeah," he says. "So, needless to say, my anxiety is shit now."

It isn't funny. It's a tragic statement. But when we both glance into the others eyes, it's his small little smirk that makes me laugh like I haven't since my mother sent me the local news report with his picture covering the front page. The same one that shows everything is still okay.

"I'm sorry," I say. Then the laughing turns into sobbing, and then I can't breathe. And I really am sorry.

I'm sorry I couldn't help him. I'm sorry he went out on a romantic whim and borrowed money he shouldn't have for the ring I was too ashamed to wear on the proper finger. I'm sorry he couldn't come back for me. And I'm sorry for hating him when he showed up unannounced at my door.

"Hey," he says gently, standing and crossing to me, removing his jacket and wrapping it around my shoulders to comfort me. It's unfamiliar, evidence of a life he wouldn't have led if he had just stayed by me and it upsets me, but his lips against my wet cheeks ground me, familiar and soothing me, coaxing me into wrapping my arms around him, clawing my trembling fingers through his hair. Still soft. Still combed.

"You can't stay here," I choke out.

"I know," he says quietly. There's nothing for a long time, our bodies shaking as we cling to each other. In our arms are the unspoken months of grief. Of his longing for our home, of my insanity. Death looms over the furniture, light hidden away lest it take away my sacred treasures I'd used to keep his spirit close to me.

"I can't lose you again," I say.

"I know," he says, smelling my hair and placing a soft kiss on top of my head. "But I can't promise stability if you follow me."

My brows furrow, my mind racing in confusion, my hopes rising. Follow?

"I know a guy," he says quickly, his arms tighter as if scared I'll turn away. "Says he can get me a new identity and a one way ticket to somewhere. I don't know where yet, but it's worth a try."

My fingers trace his back, swirling invisible patterns over his shirt. He'd always liked that after a rough day. I can feel the tension begin to slowly fall away from him at the contact, his breathing growing deeper and more steady. "And you want me to come?"

"Need," he corrects. "I don't regret leaving you, but I can't stay away. Even if it's more kind to let you mourn and find a better life."

A new life. A new identity. New name, new everything.

Maybe I am insane. Maybe this exactly the kind of mental break Billy had that day. Maybe I was doomed to follow his spirit no matter what. Maybe this is a second chance. Maybe God had granted me a mercy I'll never be able to repay, no matter how many night I spend in worship at a church or between this man's legs. Maybe I'd spend every day looking over my shoulder, paranoid and eventually turning cruel to strangers so to keep this one person everyone told me to let go of from the very beginning.

But the same Billy.

"Can he do a marriage license?" I ask after a long silence. I can hear him laugh, pulling away to look at me.

"That eager?" He asks softly, his eyes gentle, thumb stroking my cheek. I lean into his touch, softly placing a kiss on his palm.

▪︎》◇《▪︎

"Well," I say, "I already have the ring."

Masterlist

As cute as this was, please have better standards than the Reader I wrote in this fic. No man is worth that. I am DEADASS. Anyways, love y'all <3

#josh hutcherson #josh hutcherson x reader #josh hutcherson fanfic #josh hutcherson x you #jhutch #billy burn #billy burn x you #billy burn x reader #billy burn 2019 #burn 2019 #burn movie 2019 #billy x reader

168 notes · View notes

justcallme-ange · 1 month

Text

Alright I'm putting this out there because I don't have time to draw it - so do with it what you will. (Also I stole this idea from a fic I was reading for a different fandom - so I take no credit for the original idea) Anyway the idea was just a small snippet where Techno get really injured, like potions aren't enough and he's out for a while. And Dream is absolutely destroyed because Techno had been protecting him, and also they had just declared they loved each other. They'd been secretly kinda sorta dating and they were planning on making it official and then everything went to crap. The Syndicate manages to get them out, but Techno's essentially in hibernation to recover and it's been a few weeks. Dream's been spending all his time by Techno's side while the rest of the gang has been in shifts. They're worried for Techno but also for Dream because he isn't really eating or sleeping. One day Phil sits down with Dream saying: "Talk to me." And Dream does - tells him about everything that happened how he's afraid that he's a bad boyfriend, how he couldn't protect Techno, how Techno's been the one carrying everything and how Dream wishes he could be better. "Techno's more of a romantic than me - and that's a problem because I don't feel like I show him how much I really love him." And then Dream breaks down crying, "He looks at me like no one else has ever- and I'm so afraid he's not gonna wake up." And with a pleading look at Phil he tucks himself into Phil's arms sobbing. "I want him to look at me like that again." Of course Techno wakes up (I couldn't do that to my poor boy), also he heard everything, the two reunite and Dream tells him he loves him and that he's sorry and Techno reassures him that he's got nothing to be sorry about and he loves him too- they're a mess for a while. But it's a happy ending.

#c!dnb #dreamnoblade #I got inspired by one line #and I had to do something #but I can't draw it because I literally have like 15 projects in the works #so here is writing

106 notes · View notes

privitivium · 2 months

Note

I NEED a yan ghiacchio with a reader that acts dense but knows that ghiacchio likes him, but wanted ghiacchio to be the one who confesses

Imagining an overly possessive and angry person be so shy towards someone is just cute to me..

I need a jealous scene..like seriously.

sure friend. sorry for any mistakes that mightve slipped by

yandere, jealous ghia w knowing, "dense" male reader

subbot ghiaccio/topreader. rambles

cw;; nsfw, toxic ghia sorta!

i cant imagine him as nice nor shy bro,, he's a major a bratty jackassy bttm. imagining ghiaccio as shy to someone he likes is a little hard for me but not totally impossible... he flirts really lamely by critiquing everything you do without even trying to be rude - it's just how he comes off as!! i mean,, hes definitely a little awkward or sometimes way too mean at times - but that's only because he imagines really dirty stuff about you at random while interacting with you or seeing you talk to your shared friends...

seeing you, not chilling with the rest of the gang as usual, rather getting ready for something - to go somewhere... no longer in your usual outfit which consisted of comfortable clothes, you were a bit dressed up... to go to the bar, you say? and are you inviting him? he expects to be invited too, it's a courtesy, no?? no, it isn't. but you should probably inform him of your plans earlier on, huh?! look at all this racket now, theyre all curious as to where you're going! ( it's really just him who's curious - you usually all go together, but you want to go alone?...) he invites himself to go with you, playing it off coolly as he couldㅡ

"you moronㅡof course you can't go alone!ㅡwe are a team and it's time you start acting like it." tugging the passenger door to your car open and sitting with his arms crossed over his chest. you wouldn't stand for being berated for being weak - but you know this man can go on for hours and sit for days in anger if you were to start an argument about wanting alone time, so you leave it alone and cruise... ghiaccio twitching, tapping along the armrest in near nervousness? glancing over at you - just in-beetween your legs and feels blood shoot downward. he directs the cool air to his face and has to sit in the awkwardnessㅡ

ghiaccio shyly mentioning, "i'm privy to a few quality places in this area..." and with that, coolly replying and not missing a beat - "oh, yeah? you have to show me, sometime..." ghiaccio stills, nearly squirming in his seat - were you flirting? you were flirting. that sounded like flirting and ghiaccio was not stupid, you were flirting. huffing out the rough sentence of;; "... yeah, whatever. don't draw attention to yourself."

hanging around you at the bar you dragged him to - it was scarce of people. not that ghiaccio minded... he felt like you were on a date, drinking your little drinks together... it was awkwardly silent between you - and he had no idea how to fix it. were you mad at him or something?!? what gave you the right to be mad at him-? the disgusting feeling of love sickness settling in his tummy as he feels your elbow brush against his - and not to mention this is a classy place!! changing the subject in his mind from the way you feel, he couldn't stand the fucking loudmouths on your left - who obviously didn't understand bar etiquette.

ㅡand he hated the fact that you joined in??? hearing you voice your own thoughts on whatever they were talking - making friends with drunken idiots... despicable. how can you stand such stupidity? it's nearly commendable. not to mention you were with him - ghiaccio?! shouldnt you be talking to him instead of these damned strangers?! it was two men, three including you, before one of the drunken morons leave - leaving you talking animatedly with the other...

or it could be something like. you dancing with a crowd of people - ghiaccio watching from his table or the bar - seeing some guys hand brush against your ass. either way, it ends up with ghiaccio beating the piss out of some guy behind the bar surrounded by the other patrons too scared of his pure white rage and you have to be the one to forcefully drag him offㅡ"what happened to not drawing attention to ourselves?" keeping your tone leveled as you leisurely lead him away by the crook of his arm, and he follows wordlessly. surprising. even more surprising that he didnt freeze the guy and break the ice.

in the end, dragging him home - offering conversation in the car... and not at all mentioning the guy he beat up out of disgusting jealousy,,, then at the base, being a little extra touchy with him - knowing how it gets him. he was wondering if you did know how you made him feel - getting paranoid about you and jerking off in the shower while muttering, "i hate you," or "i love you,". Loser

#jojo =͟͟͞͞★#male reader #x male reader #ghiaccio x male reader #jojo's bizzare adventure x male reader #jjba x male reader #yandere ghiaccio!#yandere ghiaccio x reader #yandere x male reader #yandere male x reader #yandere male x male reader #yandere m x m reader

67 notes · View notes

theelkmaiden · 1 year

Text

So I've been thinking.

If Captain Marvel is the Champion of Magic, does that mean he has to play by the rules of all magic? Demon, fea, pixie etc.? Because if you owe something to one of those, things tend to go wrong. Fae can take your children, pixies can make your life hell, demons can literally take your souls.

So what if Billy Batson, being the sweet boy he is, keeps doing people favours? Now, he'd never take a child or cause someone chaos, as that means actually interfering, but souls? That boy could definitely be having people sign their souls away to him and he has no idea.

The first time he did someone a favour after the wizard granted him his powers, Billy was overtaken by a surge of tingles that tasted vaguely of rotten eggs. The feeling only lasted a second, but he couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. All he did was help Old Linda from the block over carry a bag of food to her place of residence. That was it. But after the tingling, Billy felt like he was connected to her in some way, on a deep and intimate level that didn't make sense.

And then it kept happening.

Helping to paint his neighbours room. Helping a girls cat from a tree. Letting a lost child sleep in his abandoned apartment overnight.

And later, bringing Batman a coffee after a long mission. Teaching Green Arrow the basics of pickpocketing. Spotting Flash on his running form.

Anytime someone said "can I ask you a (quick) favour" the tingling and eggs would come and Captain Marvel had no idea what it was or why it happened.

That is.

Until Old Linda died.

It had been a long patrol for Captain Marvel. There was a crime wave almost every year around July, like clockwork. Mainly teenagers getting in with gangs and trying to prive their worth now that school was out (or, at least, that was Cap's theory).

He was just touching down near his building to transform when he felt an entirely unique sensation. The tingling he was so familiar with came crashing over him in a wave so intense the demigod found himself wobbling where he stood, garnering a few concerned stares by citizens. The part of him that had been connected to Linda had snapped into place and, without even having to doue check, Billy knew for a fact that Old Linda was dead.

He also knew where to find her.

Drawing on his magic, Captain Marvel opened a portal to a corner of the Rock of Eternity ans stepped through.

There, on the otherside, stood the kind old woman who would often give him food if she had any left over.

"Excuse me, sir?" She asked, looking rather fearful, "would you mind telling me where I am?"

With eyes already misting, Marvel closed the portal and stepped towards her with his arms out in a calming manner.

"Linda. I'm so sorry. You're in the Rock of Eternity. You shouldn't be here but I think it's my fault you are," he was swallowed thickly, putting every ounce of self control he had to the test to bit show how distraught he was with this development.

Clearly seeing his distress, Linda calmed and gripped the Captains arm in a consoling manner. "I'm sure it's quiet alright, dear. Why don't you tell me what happened and then you can return me home. And then you can explain to me all about this place, hmm?"

Her small smile fell when the captain did not immediately react to her request.

"Miss Linda," Billy tried, not feeling very much like a superhero at that moment I time, "I'm so so sorry! I shouldn't have helped you with the food. But I just wanted to do something good. And now you're stuck here forever and I don't know how to free you and there's so many people that are going to come here and I didn't mean to!"

The hulking form of Captain Marvel was now a kneeling, sobbing mess as the twelve year old realised what he had done. The feeling of rightness that sang in his magic at Linda standing within the Rock of Eternity. The pull of what he now knew to be souls pulling him in different directions. The fact that he had only been trying to help.

"Now dear," Linda kneeled next to him, patting his shoulder in confused concern, "I assure you I have no idea what you're going on about. I've seen you flying overhead and fighting monsters, but we've never met officially past today. But if I'm stuck here forever, then at least I'll have company. Now, come, dry your eyes and get up. You need to explain to me what's going on." The mum of four in her seemed to have taken over as she dragged the massive man up to his feet and the stood on her toes to wipe his cheeks with the sleeve of her cardigan.

Taking a deep breath, Captain Marvel nodded. "Miss Linda. You are dead. I'm sorry. I accidently own your soul and I don't know how to release you to go somewhere better. And you're only the first person that's going to arrive here. This is completely new for me and I'm not sure what to do. This place is my home so you are welcome to explore and make yourself comfortable. But it's not much."

The silence that followed was deafening as Linda contemplated her situation. It stretched on until a look of resolve made its way onto the old souls face.

"Okay."

"Okay? Is that it?"

"Well you are obviously very distressed so it was definitely an accident. But I am not staying somewhere that looks so dull for the rest of Eternity. You and I are going to be doing some redecorating. How big is this place?"

"Infinite."

"Then this shan't be an issue. We can build a lovely garden where we can all stay until you get this figured out. Besides, it'll give me something to do."

So, he did. Captain Marvel (who Linda learned to be Billy Batson) got to work and transformed a large section of the Cave into a garden, with strict directions from Linda.

Over time, more people joined and Linda took it upon herself to greet the newcomers and explain what had gone on. Many people were unhappy, but soon settled into their afterlife and making friends.

After awhile, Billy took Linda aside and granted her a Boon. One of her choosing. She chose "to be the peacekeeper of this little afterlife. I want to help comfort those here who miss their old lives. I try, I do, but a little magical help wouldn't go amiss." And so she became the Peacekeeper.

In the outside realm, when Captain Marvel explained to Batman, Green Arrow, and The Flash that he accidently owned their souls, well, let's just say that shitshow lasted a while.

#billy batson #shazam #captain marvel dc #batman #green arrow #the flash #of course billy doesnt stop helping people #but he does try to be more careful #except sometimes hes tired #he ends up also owning supermans soul and has an existential crisis over it #and he helped a lot of old people before linda died so the rock of eternity slowly fills up with grandparents trying to adopt him #he does eventually learn how to break the bunding magic but some of them decide to stay #so now the rock has a garden full of souls for the next champion to find #which will be fun for them

367 notes · View notes

lemons-bittersweet · 4 months

Text

THE OUTSIDERS FROM THE BOOK IN DESCRIPTION.

IM SORRY IF THINGS ARE SPELLED WRONG NOR THE SENTENCES BEING REAL SENTENCES BUT I DONT HAVE THE TIME TO DO ALL OF THAT CURRENTLY

PONYBOY CURTIS- AGE 14- I have light brown almost red hair and greenish-gray eyes I wish they were grayer because I hate most guys that have green eyes but I have to be content with what I have my hair is longer than a lot of boys wear theirs squared off in the back and long in the front and other sides but I'm a greaser most of my neighborhood rather bothers to get a haircut size I look better with long hair I like to watch movies alone so I can get into them and live them with the actors when I see a movie with someone it's kind of uncomfortable it's like having someone read your book over your shoulder I'm different that way I mean my second oldest brother soda who's 16 going around 17 never cracks a book at all and my oldest brother Darrel we call darry works to long and hard to be interested in a story or drawing a picture so I'm not like them and nobody in our gang digs moves and books the way I do for a while there I thought I was the only person in the world that did so I loned it soda tries to understand at least which is more than darry does but then so does different from anybody he understands everything almost like he's never hollering at me at the time of day or he is or treating me as if I was 6 instead of 14 I love soda more than that I have ever loved anyone even mom and dad he's always happy go lucky and grilling while there Dairy's hard and firm and rarely grins at all but then darrys gone through a lot his this 20 years growing up too fast soda will never grow up at all I don't know which way is the best i'll find out one of these days Sodapop Curtis-AGE 16/17- more handsome than Ponyboy knows he's slim but has a friendly draw sensitive face that manages to be reckless and thoughtful at the same time dark gold hair that he comes back long and silky and straight and in summer the sun bleaches into a shining wheat gold eyes are dark brown lively dancing reckless laughing eyes that can be gentle sympathetic one moment and blazing with anger the next he's got his dad's eyes but his is one of a kind. Darrel JR Curtis-AGE 20- 6 feet two inches tall broad shoulders and muscular has dark brown hair that kicks out in front and slight cow lick in the back it's like his dad's but Darry's eyes are his own he's got eyes like two pieces of pale blue-green ice They've got a determined set to him like the rest of him he looks older than 20 tough cool and smart he would be real handsome with his eyes weren't so cold he doesn't understand anything that's not playing hard fact but he uses his head Steve Randle-AGE 17- Tall and lean with sick greasy hair he kept combed in complicated Swirls he was cocky smart and Soda's best buddy since grade school Steve's specialty was cars he could lift a hubcap quicker and more quietly than anyone in the neighborhood but he also knew cars upside down and backward he could drive anything on wheels he and soda worked at the same gas station steve part-time soda full time and the gas station got more customers than any in town whether that was because Steve was so good with cars or because so would attract girls like honey jaws flies

Two-bit (Keith) Mathews- AGE ???- Keith was the oldest of the gang and the wisecracker of the bunch he was about six feet tall stocky built and very proud of his long rusty colored sideburns he had gray eyes and a wide grin and he couldn't stop making funny remarks to save his life you couldn't shut that guy up he always had to get his two bits worth in hence his name even his teachers forgot his real name was Keith we hardly remembered he had one life was one big joke to tube it he was famous for shopping with his black switchblade and he always was smart enough to the cops he really couldn't help it everything he said was so irresistibly funny that he just had to let the police in on it to brighten up their dough lives he liked fighting blondes and from some unfathomable reason school he's still a junior at 18 1/2 he never learned anything he just went for kicks I liked him real well because he kept his laughing at ourselves as well as other things he reminded me of Will Rogers maybe because of the grin Dallas Winston- AGE ???- He had an elfish face with high cheekbones and pointed chin and small sharp animal teeth and ears like a lynx his hair was almost white it was so blonde and he didn't like haircuts or hair oil either so it fell over his forehead and wisps and kicked out in the back and tufts and curled back behind his ears and along the Naples neck his eyes were blue blazing ice cold with hatred of the whole world dally had spent 3 years on the wild side of New York and had been arrested at age 10 he was tougher than the rest of us tougher colder meaner the shade of difference that separates the greases from a hood was a present valley he was wild as the boys downtown outfits like Tim Shepherd's gang in New York dally blew off steam and gang fights but here organized gangs are rarities they're just small bunches of friends who stick together in the welfare is between the social classes of rumble when it's called it's usually born of a grudge fight and the opposite just happened to bring the friends along oh there are few gangs around here like the river kings and the Tiber Street Tigers but in the southwest there's no gang rivalry so Dally even though he could get into a good fight sometimes had no specific thing to hate no rival game only Socials and you can't win against them no matter how hard you try because they've got all the brakes and even wipping them isn't going to change the fact maybe that's why Dallas was so bitter he had quite the reputation in the file and down at the police station he had been arrested he got drunk he rode and rodeo's lied cheated stole rolled drunk jumped small kids he did everything I didn't like it but he was smart and you had to respect him Johnny Cade- AGE 16- If you could picture a little dark puppy that has been kicked too many times and it's lost in a crowd of strangers you'll have Johnny he was the youngest next to me smaller than the rest with a slight build he had big black eyes and a dark tan face his hair was jet black and heavily greased and combed to the side but it was so long that it fell into shaggy bangs across his forehead he had a nervous suspicious look in his eyes and that beating he got from the socialist didn't help matters he was the gang's pet everyone's kid brother his father was always beating him up and his mother ignored him except when she was hacking off his something and then you could hear yelling at him clear down at our house I think he hated that the worst getting whipped he would have run a million times if we hadn't been there and if he hadn't been gang Johnny would have never known love and affection are.

48 notes · View notes

azures-bazar · 1 year

Note

Let’s do headcannons with Sadie, Arthur, Charles, Mary beth, Karen and Dutch reacting to fem s/o that has such a hilarious funny laugh. When she laughs it sounds like a crow mixed with a seagull XD she can’t help having such a crazy laugh and one day she cackles so loudly that the people in Valentine could hear it. What would their reaction be?

Headcanon - Peculiar Laugh - Female!Reader

Hey there anon ! Thank you for your request ! Having a very strange laugh myself, I couldn't relate more to this lol

I apologize in advance for all character inaccuracies and grammar mistakes, as always :')

I'm also really sorry for being this late, things are not going so well at my job so I kinda struggle at the moment to keep up with my usual writing pace, but I'll be back on track soon ! <3

Request : Female!Reader

Characters : Arthur Morgan, Sadie Adler, Charles Smith, Dutch Van der Linde Mary-Beth Gaskill, Karen Jones

Relationship : Romantic, settled

Lines : From 8 to 10 per character

Arthur Morgan :

You were cleaning your riffle with Tilly after a long day on guard duty, talking about some common stuff you both enjoy. You even get to talk about Arthur, who is sitting nearby, drawing something in his journal… but then, out of the blue, Tilly asks you a very strange question. "If a cougar and a cat could reproduce, would their kids be huge or average-sized cats ?".

At first, you don’t really understand what Tilly just said, so you just shrug. Her question is genuinely interesting to think about, but your brain processes it as a very good joke, causing you to start chuckling. What the hell was going on in her mind ? The more you think about that question, the louder you laugh. And Tilly follows.

Arthur quickly rises from his spot to glance around when he first hears your peculiar laugh. Of course, he had already seen you chuckling and was somewhat surprised by the noise you could make, but he never heard you roar with laughter. "What the hell was that ?" he mumbles. He quickly drops his journal in his satchel and puts his hand on his gun, walking closer to the noise. What if it was an attack ?

He spots you laughing with Miss Tilly, who can’t hold back her tears while you’re nearly suffocating. In fact, the way you’re laughing is so amusing that even Arthur can’t help but chuckle at this lovely sight of his sister and his adorable lady having a good time !

Being a protective bear, Arthur instinctively takes both your riffles away before Tilly is called by Ms. Grimshaw to help her clean the camp’s round table. "Lemme take ‘em riffles, ladies." he chuckles as he calmly puts your weapons on the ground. You can’t stop laughing, still thinking about Tilly’s peculiar question. What if ? Indeed, what if ? Arthur quickly gets you some water in a cup, but you can’t drink it just yet.

Arthur progressively looses it what watching you go further and further into an endless hilarity. He still chuckles, trying to understand what made you start laughing like this, but you can barely explain it. You can’t even breathe properly ! "Well, I don’t know what you girls were talkin’ ‘bout, but it sure was fun !" Arthur giggles.

You try your best to keep breathing, but can’t stop laughing, even if Arthur begs you to calm down a little. He tries his best to hold himself from laughing out loud with you, believing the rest of the gang would think he’s crazy, or that the Pinkertons would find you. He’s somewhat ashamed of his laugh, which is terribly sad. "Stop laughing, Y/N… please…" he giggles as tears start streaming on his face, rubbing your shoulders.

While you try taking a deep breath, your voice suddenly turns into the exact same noise a crow would make… and this is what causes Arthur to start laughing with you. He just gives in, your laugh is too fun for him to remain stern-faced ! Not even the toughest of Dutch’s men can resist this funny laugh that is yours !

The more you laugh, the more he laughs. He just adores the overall noise you’re currently making. It’s so hilarious ! Your laugh is so peculiar, so fun to hear… looking at you trying to calm yourself down only makes him love you more. His amusement perfectly matches the total adoration he vows you.

It takes you quite a while to stop laughing, and Arthur almost feels a little sad that this moment has to come to an end. "Your laugh is funny, Y/N… You’re quite a strange lady…!" he tells you before dropping a sweet kiss on your forehead. This event causes him to write a new entry in his journal, describing your laugh as a "strange combination between a crow and a seagull which probably had a few drinks.".

Sadie Adler :

Your day is so boring ! You just want to do something relevant, apart from washing clothes or cleaning tables while some gang members are out there having fun ! So you’re tasked to help Mr. Pearson to chop some vegetables. Leeks, for instance. At least, it’s more entertaining than having listen to Ms. Grimshaw’s complaints !

Sadie passes nearby and quickly takes two round slices of the leeks you just chopped, removes the middle part and gets them to her eyes. "Hallo, I’m Herr Strauss !" she jokes, obviously not expecting your reaction. She had seen you so bored that she just wanted to make you smile, and did much more than that.

The single view of a happy Sadie, who doesn’t smile much because of what she has been living, warms your heart… but her childish imitation of Strauss is absolutely worth the watch, causing you to literally drop your knife on the table and start cackling. Loudly.

Sadie never heard you laugh like this. At first, she freezes in place and looks at you trying to calm your breathing. "Wow, didn’t know a seagull was in there !" she chuckles. Her words don’t help you, you’re pretty aware about your peculiar laugh, and you don’t mind it !

Listening to the noise you’re currently making cause you to enter into an infernal circle. You can hear your laugh, and now… you’re literally laughing at yourself, but you can’t stop. And Mrs. Adler, who tries her best to remain calm, hides some early laughs behind her sleeve. She feels so good and relaxed !

As you try breathing, making very strange noises, Sadie looks around while wrapping her arm around your shoulders. People pass by you with wide opened eyes, not only because of this unique laugh they hear, but also because Mrs. Adler is having a good time as well.

"Stop laughin’ or I’m gonna loose it !" she chuckles, not able to keep calm with you the way you cackle. It’s been a while since she didn’t feel something so great, so calming as some sheer happiness. Your laugh, as strange as it sounds, makes her feel really happy.

When Pearson comes back, he immediately dismisses the two of you, which makes you laugh even louder. Everyone looks at your direction, either surprised or amused, and Sadie keeps her arm wrapped around your shoulders. At this moment, if she closes her eyes, she feels like she’s having fun with a literal seagull.

Sadie tries her best to calm you down to allow you to keep breathing, but nothing truly helps. Not even her covering your face with kisses. Nothing really works, but Sadie still resists the idea of bursting out laughing with you. She doesn’t want to suffocate !

After some time, your laughs finally come to an end, allowing you to take a deep and well deserved breath. You look at Sadie, who is giving you a very bright smile. As she tried to make you grin, your laugh made her genuinely happy. And it was definitely worth it, for the two of you.

Charles Smith :

You and Sean were having a drink together by the campfire, somewhere in the middle of the day. MacGuire is already drunk and keeps saying very awkward things, but something really triggers your laughter. "I thought I’d try runnin’ a dating service for chickens, but I’d be strugglin’ to make hens meet.".

This joke is so simple and unexpected that you burst out laughing. Everyone knows that your laugh sounds a little funny, but you never really had the opportunity to start cackling the way you did. People around the hideout literally stop what they are doing to look at you and smile… but not Charles.

When he first hears you laughing, Charles somewhat freezes in place. He nervously looks around the hideout, trying to find the source of such very… peculiar sound. He knows about your laugh, but something in what he heard did not sound right. "I don’t know what animal it is…" he whispers to himself.

Charles instinctively runs towards camp to see if there is any source of danger. Thankfully enough, everyone seems to be calm and quite happy, but this weird sound he can’t recognise can still be heard, causing him to feel a little worried. Is there anyone hurt outside the hideout ? Is that a wounded animal ? Who knows ?

He walks around the hideout to the find the source of such sound, finding you laughing with Sean. He even notices some tears of laughter and smiles. "What did you tell her, MacGuire ?" he asks Sean, but your local Irish Terrier can’t respond, nearly suffocating. He had first laughed at his own joke, but now… he’s laughing because of you.

Let’s be honest, your laugh is contagious. This very strange combination between a seagull and a crow is so unique that nobody can remain stern faced while listening to your laugh. And, despite trying his best to hold himself from doing the same, Charles starts chuckling.

He calmly sits nearby to just look at you. You’re so beautiful when you laugh !… even if it basically sounds like an animal is dying nearby. Charles loves you for what you are, and your laugh, as peculiar as it sounds, only makes him love you more.

Charles sees you suffocating a little because of this endless spiral you slipped into with Sean and starts massaging your shoulders. He still tries his best to hide his chuckles as he’s worried while watching your inability to breathe properly, but gives in and laughs with you. "It’s okay there, darling. Please take a deep breath." he tries telling you between two subtle laughs.

It takes you about five or six minutes to calm down, and Charles is right here, holding you by the shoulders. As Sean leaves to get another beer, you finally get to sigh, being watched over by Mr. Smith who only has eyes on you today.

"Feels good to see you laughing." he says before gently kissing your temple. He wants you to be happy more often and never to hide your peculiar laugh. He loves you so much, and wants you to be the happiest woman on earth. You deserve the world… and the world is not ready to hear your laugh again.

Dutch Van der Linde :

You had a long day and could finally relax by reading a book outside Dutch’s tent. As you thought you picked up one of Evelyn Miller’s works, you unexpectedly stumble upon a book that appears to be… a little erotic. The worst is that you genuinely believe Evelyn Miller wrote this, which causes you to chuckle.

The more you read that book, the more you giggle at your expectations about Evelyn Miller. You start cackling so loud that Dutch, who is out there smoking his cigar, quickly runs towards his tent. He knows about your peculiar laugh, he was first somewhat surprised hear it. But right now, he genuinely thought you had hurt yourself.

"Are you alright, sweet girl ?" he asks you before kneeling down. You can’t stop laughing, causing him to look a little concerned about what triggered your sudden hilarity. He looks around to check if the rest of the gang is alright, it looks like you started laughing because of the book you’re holding in your hands.

You try telling Dutch that you thought Evelyn Miller was the one who wrote that book, but you’re suffocating so much that no clear words but the author’s name come out of your mouth. Dutch takes the book away, a little confused, and reads a few pages.

For a few seconds, he wants to scold you for believing that his favourite author and absolute role model is the one who wrote this erotic book, but the way you’re laughing quickly stops him. You look so sweet when you’re happy ! "Well sorry, dear Y/N, but Mr. Miller didn’t write this book." he smiles.

The more you laugh, the more he wants to laugh with you. He tries his best to remain stern faced, coughing in his sleeve do stop a burst of hilarity you triggered in him. Your peculiar laugh always made him smile, as far as he could remember !

"C’mon Y/N you’re gonna make me laugh and I’ll look ridiculous." he tells you, but you can’t stop. No, you can’t. Still having in mind that Evelyn Miller is the one who wrote this book, your ideas about Dutch worshipping his favourite author makes you loose it. Who would have thought Mr. Van der Linde owns an erotic book anyway ?

At some point, your laugh is so loud that even birds start flying away. Dutch sits besides you and clenches his teeth before letting out a soft giggle… which doesn’t last long, since just a few seconds are needed for him to slip into hilarity. Your laughs don’t match, but it’s somewhat funny !

In order not to be seen laughing, Dutch drags you to his tent and sits on the bed with you. He even reads a few extracts of the book with his eyes wide open, tears streaming on his cheeks because he can’t stop laughing. Your laugh is too genuine for him to walk away as he usually does !

When the night comes, the two of you finally stop laughing and can leave Dutch’s tent. "I love seeing you laugh." Dutch smiles, kissing your lips. "But I have completely forgotten about this erotic book, don’t tell anyone.". You will try your best, but that’s quite tempting !

Mary-Beth Gaskill :

You’re sitting alone by one of the trees of Horseshoe Overlook, before the cliff, facing the sunset. You had a long day after doing a successful robbery, nobody wanted to bother you. Not even Ms. Grimshaw, which is quite surprising considering it’s ‘her camp, her rules.’.

You’re gazing at the sky, noticing that two birds are currently making some sweet figures above you. While they're chirping, flying away from each other and then coming back, they unexpectedly bump their heads, causing you to gasp. You see them chirping louder afterwards during a short fall, causing you to start laughing. These two birds are literally an old couple having an argument, just like Dutch and Hosea !

When she hears your laugh, Mary-Beth is absolutely startled and quickly grabs her knife, believing someone is currently being tortured nearby. "Oh lord…" she gasps, looking at the surroundings as she notices that this strange noise is coming from a tree near the cliff of the hideout. No one seems to care much about that noise.

She calmly gets closer to your spot and notices you laughing, causing her to sigh and kneel before you, calmly taking your hands between hers with a sweet smile. "Are you okay, Y/N ?" she asks, still looking a little concerned. Your laugh is absolutely hilarious, causing her to chuckle a little.

You’re laughing so loudly that people could easily hear your voice in Valentine… if not even in Strawberry or Blackwater. Mary-Beth tries shushing you a little, calmly passing her hands through your hair while looking around. What if Pinkertons found you because of your laugh ?

The more Mary-Beth listens to your voice, the more she wants to chuckle with you. "Sweet Y/N, you’re going to make me laugh !" she giggles. Your teary face and beautiful smile are not helping her resist this sudden temptation to join you in a laughing session.

Mary-Beth finally gives in after a few good seconds, letting out a nice laugh to accompany yours. Your voices don’t really math at the moment, but that’s no big deal. Mary-Beth needed to laugh, she never really had the opportunity to have some fun since the Blackwater incident. It felt so good !

The two of you laugh until the sun goes down, called by Ms. Grimshaw to get your portion of stew. You had completely forgotten the notion of time ! You finally get to explain that these two birds, the way they bumped their heads, the way they chirped made you loose it… it gives Mary-Beth a new idea for the book she’s currently writing. Your laugh will also have a very detailed description !

Karen Jones :

You and Karen spent an entire day doing laundry, taking care of the camp, patrolling around the hideout with your respective riffles in your hands. Right now, the only thing you want is to have a good drink. And… let’s just say you had a few of them. After all, don’t you deserve a beer for what you’re doing ?

With this dose of alcohol held in your body, your brain can’t really function normally. So anything Karen says can easily trigger either laughs or tears. Karen starts mimicking Arthur, who is grumbling on his cot, obviously not happy about this sudden imitation. "I’m a strong and threatening cowboy who eats flowers !" she roars. And the overall situation is what triggers your sudden laugh.

The noise you just made quickly freezes Karen who quickly stops her imitation, looking straight towards your direction. "What the hell was that !" she gasps with a large smile as she sees you trying to mute your laughs behind your hands. "Oh my god, Y/N !" she chuckles.

You try apologising, but no word can come out of your mouth some other very weird noises. As she notices you can’t stop laughing, Karen restarts her drunken imitation of Arthur, who is still pouting on his bed. "Fear me, I love horses more than humans ! Fear me !" she shouts.

Karen absolutely adores watching you laugh, despite being a little weirded out by this hilarious noise she just heard. It only adds some more depth to your incredible personality, and Karen loves people with very strong personalities… or drunk fools like Sean.

She keeps imitating Arthur, causing him to leave his tent to have a drink with John and Bill. "And now I’ll head for a beer with ma’ dumb brothers !" Karen groans, leading you to laugh even louder than before. Dear lord, it feels so great to see you smile, and Miss Jones won’t make it stop just yet !

At some point, her legs can’t hold her anymore, causing her to sit by you. She looks at you for a moment with starry eyes, still amused by your peculiar laugh. Being drunk makes her enjoy this moment even more than what she expected, as she chuckles with you !

You stop laughing after some time, causing Karen, and the rest of the gang, mostly, to feel a sudden void around the hideout. Even if your laugh was peculiar and not forcibly the most elegant, Karen loved it, but she will surely shiver whenever she will hear it again !

#arthur morgan #sadie adler #charles smith #dutch van der linde #mary beth gaskill #karen jones #azurestales #rdr2 #rdr2 headcanons #sorry i struggled with both Mary-Beth and Karen omg #rdr2 fanfic #Sean's bad jokes #red dead redemption 2 #female reader #i'm sorry if it's inaccurate pls don't be mad

66 notes · View notes

roxineedstosleep · 2 years

Note

Can you make a soulmate au one shot with yandere Peter Parker where the reader is not his soulmate.

So, I'm sorry for the delay, but I loved the idea, although I had to put together a good structure… and find an English translator.

I hope you enjoy it a lot.

(Also, I can of bit make it a bit little to much large: TW to much text!!)

____________________________________

Soul mates were wonderful but complex things.

Nobody knew how people began to connect with others in a magical and powerful way. But they didn't question it either.

Why do it if you were predestined to someone who would allow you to find happiness? Full development?

The person who would encourage you to be 100% happy and vice versa, the one who would adore you and you that other person.

Everyone had a soul mate, connected in some way to their other half.

It could be on the way to a tattoo, a phrase, name, songs or "Magic Clicks"

Always personalized, even if the method was similar to other people.

There could be different methods, millions and millions of ways to be able to say that one had a soul waiting for one. But regardless of the method or means of recognition, it was ALWAYS the same within the couple.

For example: If person A had a soul mate mark on his arm, and this mark was a drawing or a phrase, his soul mate B would also have the same mark shape. If X listened to the same song, Y would have the same song and they would both tune into a beautiful melody together when they met.

They all knew about it.

Peter knew he had a soulmate out there. Waiting patiently for him.

When he was younger, he used to marvel at how Aunt May and Uncle Ben used to sing the most beautiful melody in the world in unison. And sometimes, he looked hopefully at the drawing on his arm, thinking that his soul mate was seeing his own mark and thinking of him in some way.

Somewhere, waiting for him.

He always saw couples on the street, with matching brands, unison songs, discovering colors together. Always together, always in tune, always loving each other. But he also saw uneven pairs.

Unfair and selfish people. If you asked him.

Couples in which one had someone else's name on their arm, while the other sang a beautiful solo song; couples in which one saw in gray, and the other had his arms full of rainbow drawings.

At first he did not understand. He guessed that he was still too young to understand.

He did not understand why others would not look for their other half, Why they would stay with another person who did not fully understand his soul and his way of thinking? What happened to his other half? Would he be waiting for them forever in solitude? Had they gone to heaven and that's why they couldn't be together? What if the other half was sad that they couldn't find them?

There were so many doubts and so many unknowns that he simply avoided thinking about the odd couples.

In his fantasy, Peter believed that he would see another person with the same drawing on his arm. They would meet, fall in love, and start simultaneously living alongside each other for the rest of their lives.

Until he met you.

It was by chance, if he was honest.

He was wandering around the city, looking for a good place to keep watch after a long day at school; when you crashed into him after a bunch of kids had to swerve their bikes to avoid crashing into you.

They greeted each other, and as if Peter didn't have a mark on his arm, he felt a click in his mind at the sight of your grateful eyes. Beautiful eyes covered with thick dark glasses; that even half covered could dazzle more than one person with the beauty of these.

After that not much happened. Or at least, nothing really scandalous.

They started to talk.

They chatted a bit while they both went to the train station to return to their respective houses.

They talked about the city, its weather, their neighbors' pets, street gangs, pigeons, statues, popular songs, their favorite foods, their favorite classes, their clumsiness and your families.

When he saw that you had to get off at the next stop, surprisingly for him, he took all the nerves out of his excited heart and asked for your phone.

"It's just... you're great, I- I wanted to know if we could keep talking" he told you, when you were finishing packing your bag.

"Oh sure!" you replied, completely excited by the idea of having a new friend "Give me your phone, to have you added"

And after a few mistypes, You managed to save his number to your phone and vice versa.

And then everything was wonderful.

Do you ever remember that feeling of a beautiful day? You know, when you wake up on the right side of the bed, breakfast tastes delicious, there's no traffic, and you're in time for that awful test, where everything you've read about just so happens to be.

Yes.

That's how Peter felt when he managed to chat with you. No texts, no audio, only long drawn out phone calls or video chats.

They both went to different schools, but within nearby school districts. So they had started using the same train route to get back home.

You always waited for him, on the same corner, with the same thick dark glasses and you always hung on him when you walked.

And he loved that you hung on him like a lifeline.

He loved how you asked him for a little help choosing the right subway card or reading the distant signs.

He loved it when you grabbed his arm and didn't let go until he reached your whereabouts.

When you called him at night and they stayed late.

Chatting with you had been the best part of the day for Peter.

They were always laughing, always joking or crying (because of some cute video of a baby kitten)

Always supporting each other, always helping each other in the sad moments, in the moments of difficulty, in the moments in which each one felt that they couldn't take it anymore.

Being there for each other, being like a constant of happiness within sadness.

Be the happiness and joy of the other.

And the more you got to know each other, the more Peter began to consider that there would come a time when you and he would have to formalize things more.

Show each other your identical marks and more appropriately come out as soul mates to the rest of the world. Being able to say that you were his, how he belonged to you.

Being able to get all those emotions full of love and passion for you without having to receive uncomfortable questions. To be able to love you with every cell in his body and show you all the things he was capable of doing for both of them.

Then one day, when they were both eating Aunt May's cookies and watching a movie, Peter decided to ask the biggest question.

I was so excited to see your soulmate mark.

“You know, my soul mark is a drawing” he mentioned, as casually as he could he showed you the intricate drawing on his arm; but he didn't notice how you felt a little bit the surface of the drawing with your fingers, almost drawing it “What about yours? Can I see yours?

"A drawing? She must be a cutie Peter” you said, without stopping eating the biggest cookie that Aunt May had left on the plate “But I'm afraid I don't have such a beautiful drawing”

"Your drawing should be- Don't you have a drawing?" he asked, his heart beginning to pound heavily, and his lungs drained of air. "How so?"

"Yes well, I don't have a drawing, my parents have one, but my soul mark is different" you said calmly "I'm afraid my soul mark is a bit more physical"

Physical? Aren't the drawings?

"It's not very common for marks to take on the vitality of a sense, but that was my case" you continued, as you took off your thick glasses and rubbed your eyes a little "Legally I'm blind, I barely see more far from 1 meter ratio, since the doctors discovered that my soulmate distintion is to be able to see in all my capacity when I find my soulmate”

And Peter saw Red, Blue, Black and Yellow.

Peter saw tears fall from his own eyes and from his soul.

Peter felt his drawing burn painfully on his arm. Mocking him.

But the worst of all, or the best (he doesn't know yet), was that you couldn't see him destroying himself in front of you.

Because you couldn’t.

Was that his karma?

When he was young, he always complained about couples who were with others who were not their soulmates, who did not desperately seek their other half to be together all their lives.

Was that the price to pay for not being more flexible?

His punishment for being so prejudiced and closed was to love someone who wasn't his half?

But how was that possible?

It’s because he sin with those closed mind thoughts?

How was it possible that I couldn't love you if you were so perfect?

How could I not adore you when it seemed like you always had the answer on the tip of your tongue when he was confused?

How not to want you when you managed to get smiles and laughter out of them?

How not to love you when you were the reason, the only one, why he still had faith in others?

How not to consider yourself his half when you seemed to be designed specifically for that?

When their souls seemed to dance together and connect deeply to unimaginable limits?

And you came, in a machine gun way, to tell him that they were not designed to be together.

"Wow, it must suck not to be able to see" he managed to say "Does it bother you?"

“Can't see? At first, yes, but you get used to it over time” he heard you say, now the only thing he could hear besides your voice were the sounds of cookie bites and the background movie “The good thing is that, being a mark of such a strange soul is pretty strange, this and anyone who generates a disability must be registered… in the city there must be at least 6 cases similar to mine… in the country there must be a total of 40. All of them registered for matchmaking”

"Oh," he said, "so, it's-"

“I'll be able to see after my birthday anyway” you cut him off “Two other doctors have registered three marks very similar to mine and we will have a meeting with the individuals to see if we are soul mates or not. Since blindness is a fairly heavy inconvenience and affects us all. All the cases that are similar to mine just want to be able to see, after all"

After that he didn't listen anymore.

He do not speak more.

He thought of no more.

When the movie finished you had received a call from your mother and you had to leave in order to get home on time.

Apparently, it had something to do with a possible Match within the city and they wanted to coordinate the meeting.

How dare they?

How did they have the gall?

How could they even do this to you?

How could they even think that you could be with another person when you were already with him?

Was it because of his blindness? He could help you with things.

Was it because you didn't have a drawing? You probably couldn't find it yet; it must have been hidden somewhere.

Why should they break their happiness?

It was his Karma; he had already discovered it.

It was her punishment for thinking soulmates were destined just because of a stupid identical drawing or mark.

It was his cross, because now that he had found you, you would be completely separated from his side.

It was his sin, having believed himself more intelligent and he sees it for being so stupid for that reason that souls meet by a fucking identical mark.

And now… what would he do?

He couldn't sit idly by.

I couldn't see you smiling at someone other than him.

I'd rather drink bug spray than have to see you in someone else's arms. He would rather lose his powers, take off an arm, throw himself into the void than have to lose you that way.

What if you really fell in love? I would be alone.

And he couldn't live without you anymore.

So, he made the decision to be selfish and fight for both of them. Fight for the love he felt for you, for the future you both deserved.

He didn't care if you couldn't see, he would be your eyes.

It didn't matter if you couldn't walk straight, he would be your cane.

It didn't matter if you needed to read the signs, he would be your interpreter.

He would be the light of your path, he would be your firm hands in moments of doubt, he would be your support in the heaviness of the crisis, he would be your smile, your voice in moments of protest, he would be your comfort in times of pain.

If you needed a voice of comfort, he would be a choir of love.

If you needed a helping hand, he would be a pair of arms ready to work.

If you needed a caress, he would adore you with all his being.

Because it didn't matter that their markings were different…they were destined for each other.

Because now Peter was meant for you and you were meant for him.

Every fiber, every hair, every cell, every neuron, every muscle, every ligament, every spider web… Everything. Everything inside of him was designed to adore you, love you, support you, care for you and desire you.

So, if the first thing you could see with, after that stupid meeting, was him… no problem.

He understands that you were a little scared. He doesn't blame you.

How could he?

If the first thing you could see of him, with your now healthy eyes, was that he was completely covered in blood.

Drenched in blood, and at his feet, was that despicable rat who had had the audacity to approach you with the idea of stealing you from his side.

You would obviously be scared. He do not blame you.

It was a scary scenario, isn’t it?

But it didn't matter right now. Why would he?

If you were scared, he would be your comfort.

If you were crying, he would be your handkerchief.

If you wanted to break down, he would be your support.

There was nothing to worry about now that you could see him and get a chance to see the future he had planned for both of them.

#tw yandere #yandere peter parker x reader #yandere peter parker #yandere and reader #yandere #yandere mcu #yandere spiderman #yandere spiderman x reader #yandere marvel #peter parker x reader

144 notes · View notes

minusgangtime · 7 months

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/minusgangtime/730797996705497088/based-on-an-angst-idea-by

Ok,you can put this art request in your drafts cause you don’t have to make it now-

But in the future possible,can we get a sequel comic where the recovered and alive beta found Shelby after her suicide attempt alive?

…

And it’s a happy ending…pls?…

-mod Shelby

(... ÓwÒ)

(TW: Blood, Mentions of attempted suicide and death, Depressing thoughts)

After her brother had to be taken to the hospital, taken over by guilt, Shelby began walking in the woods. She didn't think twice... She didn't turn back... She didn't even bother to talk to the rest of her family.

She stopped at the edge of a cliff and looked down with an emotionless expression.

She jumped... She fell... Her head, body, arms and legs slammed into a rocky canyon...

Bones were broken... She began to bleed... But despite all that, she was still alive...

Shelby didn't bother to get up... All she can do is lay there and yell in frustration...

"WHY WON'T YOU LET ME DIE?!"

...

Hours had passed, Beta finally woke up from his coma state, his arms and stomach now wrapped with white bandages.

Why is he alive? Isn't he supposed to be gone from this world, never to be seen again...?

Beta noticed he was in a hospital room in a bed. Before he could question what happened, the door opened and someone came inside. It was the gang.

"Oh, thank god... You're alive..." MB sighed in relief, tears in his eyes.

Blue, Girlfriend and Pico rushed over to hug Beta, seeing him fortunate to be alive...

"I-I'm alive...? B-But I'm supposed to...-"

Beta groaned and grasped onto his head. It was a pain to remember what happened before he came here. Girlfriend gently lifted his face up...

"Oh, sweetie... We're just glad you're okay...~"

The yellow wolf smiled, but he felt like someone was missing. But does that matter, anymore? He should've known that she wouldn't show up. She hated him now.

Beta then looked to his right side. It was a drawer with flowers and get well soon cards on it, including a pen, a necklace, a yellow bow and the drawing he drew for Shelby.

However, that didn't look like it was torn in half and taped together. It was fixed like it never happened. How? The teenage girl who called his "sister" destroyed it, despite the fact he made it just for her.

But then it hit him. Before Beta felt like fading away, he remembered a familiar voice shouting at him...

"Was someone else there...? I think they said... "Big bro, I'm sorry"...?"

"Beta... That was Shelby..."

"What...? She was... worried about me...? I thought she wanted me... gone...?"

He looked closer at the drawing and tears formed in his eyes...

A few days went by... Beta was finally sent back home, but they hadn't heard much from Shelby since last time.

The gang formed a search party to find the young girl. They couldn't find signs of her until Beta caught a familiar scent. That's when they found her.

Shelby would see and hear someone yelling out...

"SIIIIIIS!!!"

The gang was able to pull Shelby up and Beta carried her in his arms. She couldn't believe what she was seeing...

"Beta, is that you...? I-I thought you were dea-..."

"SIS, WHY DID YOU DO THIS?! TELL ME! WHY?! PLEASE...!!" the yellow wolf broke down in tears...

The brown haired teenage girl also broke down in tears and covered her face in Beta's fur. The only answer she could mumble out is... "I-I'm sorry..."

Later, Shelby had a hospital trip to be given white bandages around her head, body, arms and legs to stop her bleeding. As soon the whole gang was sent home, Shelby finally confronted her brother for real this time.

"Big bro...?" she calmly asked. Beta looked over to his sister.

She sighed... "Listen, I just want to say sorry for-"

"No." he cut off. "I'm sorry. I thought I could make the perfect world for us in the Grim, but I put myself before my own family... I replaced you and everyone with a freaking robot version of themselves... The shards got to my head... I-I didn't know what I was thinking...! I understood why you hated me at first... I nearly destroyed the world... I thought it would be better if I just disappeared and you would be happier without me and probably find a better brother..."

Shelby gently lifted Beta's face up with one hand, making him look at her in the eyes. Then she lowered her head...

"And that brother is you, Beta. HS was right. I've been focusing on what happened back then that I didn't realize what I said took a toll on you... I should've forgave you right away... No talking... No asking how you felt... I just told you to fuck off, leave me alone and wished you to be gone forever... After I saw you hurt yourself, I was so angry at myself for treating you like that for the past two months that I tried to end it all... I thought you were dead... Forever... Ugh... Maybe I am like my dad... What kind of sister am I...?"

So that's why... Beta took a deep breath and hugged his sister close to him.

"It's all in the past, sis. You're still the greatest sister I've ever had. And your dad isn't here to hurt you anymore and you're not like him. You're the only family I have left... And besides, I'm still here, aren't I? I don't need to make a better home. I already have one.~"

Shelby's eyes lit up. She smiled with tears in her eyes and hugged Beta close to her as he hugged her back.

"Siblings forever?~"

"Siblings forever.~"

...

#mod's art #tw blood #tw suicide mention #tw attempted suicide #tw death mention #make sure to read the whole thing! 👉👈#took me a while to write ówò

7 notes · View notes

polikszena · 1 year

Text

Since we spent quite a lot of time on the bus, and had some ideas, I have written a few ficlets with the IMF gang having a holiday in Paris. Going to be very random, mostly Ilsa/Ethan-centric, starting with a huge cliché: the 'there's only one bed' - trope.

Mission: vacation - Part 1:

The border

"This could be worse."

"This could be much, much worse."

With his hand still on his suitcase, Ethan Hunt looked at the double bed in the middle of the room. Next to her, there was Ilsa Faust, staring at it, too. His gaze then shifted to her and a smile touched his lips. When their eyes met, they both started laughing.

"At least it's pretty big," she said. "We'll have plenty of space."

Ethan nodded in agreement, although he found the whole thing a little absurd.

They had just arrived to Paris a few hours ago to spend a few days there. Not as agents, but as a group of friends, discovering the capital of France. They booked rooms in a small hotel in the middle of the city with a view to the Quartier Latin. Everything was perfect, except for this goddamn double bed.

Not that he would have minded to share a bed with Ilsa, but they weren't dating; they hadn't even shared a kiss. Not that he wouldn't want to. It just didn't happen. Still, sleeping in the same bed seemed too much at this stage. On the other hand, they had been through a lot together, in deadly missions, working in as allies or against each other. Sharing a bed was nothing compared to that.

A knock on the door snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Come in!" Ilsa said, and Benji Dunn ducked his head into the room.

"Is everything okay?" he asked.

"Apart from the bed, yes," the other agent replied.

Benji stepped inside to take a closer look, and seeing it he pressed his lips together.

"Oh, that," he said with a nod. "Well, they don't have another room, I asked it already."

"And I'm not gonna sleep with him," Luther Stickell also appeared in the room, gesturing towards the tech agent. "He's tossing and turning all night."

On their way to Paris they drew cards to decide who would share a room with whom: Ethan got Ilsa and Benji paired up with Luther.

"It's okay, we'll draw a line in the middle," Ilsa said. "That'll be the border."

"And if Ethan crosses it, he's dead," Luther said with a chuckle.

"Or if I cross it," she added.

"I'm so glad I'm not in this room," Benji sighed.

***

At the first night they went to bed with their backs to each other. At least that was the last thing Ethan remembered. However, the next time he opened his eyes, he found himself lying next to her with his arms around her waist. Shit, he thought and moved away as quickly and carefully as possible.

Waking up, Ilsa Faust couldn't recognise where she was. It took her a moment to remember that she was in Paris, in a small hotel, curled up next to Ethan Hunt, her hand resting on his chest... Oh, wait. This shouldn't have happened. With a silent swear, she removed her hand and rolled over, hoping she hadn't woken him up. She froze when she noticed him turning onto his back with a grunt. Biting on her lower lip she waited if he would say or do anything, but he stayed still and silent. She let out a small sigh as the tension left her body. Moving as far away from him as she could, she put her head back on the pillow.

"Hey," she then heard his sleepy voice. Shit.

"Sorry for waking you up," she said.

"I just wanted to say that I'm not taking that border thing seriously at all," he said softly as he leaned on his forearm to see her better.

A smile touched her lips and she rolled over to face him. He was smiling as well. In fact, she had never seen him this gentle and peaceful before.

"I don't take that too seriously either," she told him.

"That's good, because I woke up next to you earlier," he admitted. "I swear, it wasn't conscious. Sorry about that."

"It's okay," she assured him.

He rolled onto his back again and adjusted the pillow under his head.

"You can come here if you want to," he offered.

Her smile grew wider and she felt her cheeks turning a little red - was she blushing?

"I have a feeling we'll end up like this anyway," she said.

"Me, too," he chuckled.

A small, relieved sigh escaped his mouth when she laid down next to him. It was the first time he saw her this vulnerable as she rested her head on his chest. He fought the urge to press a kiss on the top of her head, just put his arm around her.

"Good night, Ethan," she said.

"Good night."

Part 2 I Part 3

#mission impossible #ethan hunt #ilsa faust #ilsa x ethan #ethan x ilsa #luther stickell #benji dunn #paris #my fics #mission vacation

14 notes · View notes

queenofstelena · 9 months

Text

Stelena fanfiction recommendations on Wattpad (part one)

Note, some of these stories are not finished or incomplete sorry in advanced. NONE of these as far as I know have smut! I only added a few because I have so many in my library and my reading list. So this is gonna be multiple parts. There's 115 on my reading list so yeah. Aka there's going to be a part 2!

She's special

Summary: In which a trust fund boy falls for a small town girl.

Rating: Between the range of K+ - Teen and up audiences.

Completion: Discontinued but it is a good read!

Multi-chapter or one-shot

String of fate; TVD

Summary: His eyes are kind. She finds herself getting lost in them, not understanding the sense of comfort that builds within her. The sound of a phone ringing at the receptionist's desk allows her to snap out of it, blinking away before realizing that she still hasn't answered his question. She finally smiles, gaining some confidence as she makes direct eye contact without losing herself—well, almost, considering she stole a few glances at his lips. Which he took note of. It is difficult not to notice a girl like her. Her eyes alone were enchanting, mesmerizing, kind. The kind that draws a person in, and he felt like he couldn't look away. "I'm Elena." "I'm Tom. I hope to see you around." His hand is gone, but his touch lingers as she walks down the hall, unintentionally holding onto the feeling that being around him was like a ghost passing through her—cold, yet exhilarating.

Rating: Ranges between K - K+ (General Audiences)

Completion status: Complete

Multi-chapter or one-shot

One single thread of gold (tied me to you.)

Summary: Stefan's gone. He has been all summer. But something about his absence doesn't sit well with her. Or maybe she just misses him. And this is just a mere excuse. But she couldn't dwell on this. Not right now. Not when she's made her decision. Of course. Of course, she loved Damon. He was everything she needed to be, and more, when she had newly turned. And Stefan and her were just a string coming apart. The longer it stretched it would closer to breaking, but... Somehow he always manged to tie himself back to her.

Rating: K+ - Teens and up audiences

Completion status: Ongoing as of Wednesday, July 26th, 2023 it is NOT discontinued.

Multi-chapter or one-shot

Klayley & Stelena oneshots

Summary: "Your not going to get your girl, Stefan?" Lexi sarcastically muttered. "She's not my girl anymore, Lex. Besides I have Caroline." Stefan said with denial.

Rating: K+ - Teens and up audiences

Completion status: One-Shots still being added and worked on.

Multi-chapter or one-shot

Destined (A stelena fanfiction)

Summary: Elena has moved around her whole life. Her father's job required it. When her mother insists on sending Elena to a boarding school for her last two years of high school, Elena doesn't know what to think. And being the new girl isn't always a fun thing. But maybe rude boys and sassy girls are the least of her problems. {Stelena}

Rating: K+ - Teens and up audiences

Completion status: Incomplete but interesting and fascinating story line/plot.

Multi-chapter or one-shot

Stelena-Endgame

Summary: While Elena is in her coma, the rest of the gang try to figure out how to wake her in a different way. Stefan on the other hand is reconsidering marring Caroline because he may still have feelings for someone else...wonder who. Damon and Bonnie may have something going on now that they've been spending a lot of time together since Damon is trying to protect her.