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infinitethree · 9 months

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Have you ever met a version of darkza that was kind?

Day makes a face like he’s insulted. To be fair, he is; the question is absurd to him on quite a few levels. His wings flick in annoyance as he answers, "I've only met the one. If I could have snapped his wings off and stuffed them down his throat, I would have. He’s a monster and I'm glad he died suffering."

The irony of him, of all people, saying that is not lost on Day. But, well…even at his worst, he didn't do anything as heinous as hacking the wings off of two of his own kids and blinding one of them.

Coming back from just a day-long run to the nearby village to find Theo, all of thirteen, desperately trying to protect his younger brothers despite his own maiming–

He can never forget that sight. Nor can he forgive a man who would be that much of a monster.

There are a lot of debts he has racked up with the Fates, but that is the first and largest. Despite their confusion from the sudden reality warp, they were still able to give Theo the strength to hold on until Day returned.

The Fates are why his family remains whole and hale. He can never hope to repay them for that fact.

"Not me, personally," Day answers. "But Sanctuary as a whole does, yes. Some people would say Manhunts don't count. I disagree; the server pretty much shuts down for them, after all. Even Lucid’s are a big deal…not that they can outdo Perce's."

He sounds a little smug about that. His second youngest, for all that he likes to be a menace, has taken to Sanctuary's style of Manhunts with a startling amount of grace.

Maybe part of it is a desire to get the hefty paychecks offered, sure. Perce has several pricey hobbies; those had actually been the push he needed to actually take the plunge.

There had been some awkwardness in adjusting to the new format, of course. But once he had his footing, his second youngest had taken off at a dead sprint and has yet to slow down.

And now Perce draws the biggest audience, in no small part because he knows exactly how to play to them. He’s damn good at finding the best way to balance his skill and keeping the viewers in suspense.

But the question had likely been about more normal festivals.

"The last weekend of March, we have the Blooming Festival. It's a celebration of the end of winter and beginning of spring. Lots of flowers get handed around in different forms. Bouquets, flower crowns, corsages, bracelets– some people get them preserved with magic as a memento. Or just get paper ones."

He can’t help but smile at the memory he has of Lee and Perce's respective first years.

With Perce, the rest of his family– and his friends, once they caught on– made a game out of stealthily adding to the increasingly unwieldy number of floral adornments. It quickly spiraled out of control, until it seemed like half of Sanctuary decided to pile on.

Even Vio had managed to pin a small hyssopus to his sleeve. Nobody was sure when he did it, just that it had to have been him.

The flower is pretty uniquely linked to the alien. They’re what his ear cuff is in the shape of, and thus a little too personal for most people to grow at all. Even those that do wouldn't just hand them out like that.

By the end of the festival, Perce had enough flowers that he could have started a stall. He had been red faced from laughter and a bit of embarrassment.

Lee, meanwhile, had missed that same celebration by just a bit under two months. He had more time to acclimate to Sanctuary's style of celebrating in time for the next year, and more critically, time to plot.

His goal had been to give every single person a flower. In his eyes, they were all special, and thus all needed to get something from him.

There…had been some distress, when he failed at that exceptionally ambitious goal.

A few people got together afterwards to help him belatedly achieve it– Aster being among them.

Daz, too. It's sort of funny; the two Tommys don't mesh at all, and yet they had both felt driven to help a sullen six year old feel better.

Now that he’s thinking about the perky head of newcomer orientation, though, he remembers another event.

"The Welcome Wagon holds a picnic each month, open to anyone who wants to go. I think it's mainly to help new residents meet others. I don't go much, but Orph loves it."

Likely, part of that is because he’s good friends with Daz. Plus he doesn't have to stress about orientation any more. The rest of the people who run the day-to-day parts of the server are semi-regulars as well. Even Vio shows up sometimes, in between boughts of…hibernation?

Day is pretty sure that's what Vio has claimed he does to recover post-travel. But Vio says a lot of things that Day takes with a few pounds worth of salt, so fuck knows if he was telling the truth, exaggerating, or just flat out lying.

He and Theo agree that Vio definitely makes some things up just to fuck with them. It’s likely payback for all the times that the two of them annoy the alien.

It does not help that the rest of the not-family double down on some things, or refute others that Day knows for a fact are true.

Speaking of Vio's totally-not-sons, though…

"We have combat tournaments– which Aryll is banned from participating in. He won too easily and it was boring for everyone. That happened not too long after multiverse travel started, though, and there’s a good chance he wouldn't do nearly as well now. He's never tried to appeal it because he can't be bothered and he likes rubbing it in Theo’s face."

It remains a sore spot for Theo that he was never able to get banned for being too good.

Of course– Day’s eldest never gives them his all, either. There’s leagues of difference between a friendly, if heated, match and Theo aiming to kill.

Theo can be beaten. Theseus Was-Taken cannot.

Day is all too aware of just how powerful Theo truly is– a lifetime of pushing himself to be stronger, better, and faster than anyone else is emphasized every time the chorus of the Fates demand blood.

Despite the frequent bickering and annoyance, the Fates do not fuck around with an actual threat. They’ve grown attached to Theo and his loved ones– and, thus, messing around when those are in danger is a non-option.

Theseus Was-Taken, the legend, was born because Theo needed to protect his family. He and the Fates formed a deep, symbiotic relationship; they live in his head and grant him strength, and he acts as their conduit on the world at large.

Even Iatros has been able to get a better understanding of Chat through him.

…And also through Day talking about Theo’s antics over the years. So sue him– the piglin was arguably the last bridge not reduced to ash by the time Day had made his desperate deal. He might have spent decades in the world of the SMPza, but…a part of him could never forget that tiny sliver of hope.

Iatros might be his therapist, but Day still considers him a friend. Zephyr– usually just Phil– has become one, too.

They do share centuries of memories. Some of them are confusing, some are infuriating, some are fascinating, but they are still shared.

Phil only ever competed in one of the tournaments. Despite complaining that he was too old for it, he was still fifth.

Not bad by any stretch. Definitely worse than Day’s fourth, though– and well behind Vio's third, Theo’s second, or Aver's first place.

It had been a good fight. A familiar sense of joy had overtaken Day when the scrappy, snarling kid who had been through hell got his first gold medal.

Aver looked a hell of a lot like Theo had the first time his eldest was able to beat Day in a spar. Definitely older, but the look of hard-won victory still brought back a lot of memories.

So, Day had taken it upon himself to commission Atlas for a golden laurel wreath. Aver had laughed in delight and wore it for the next week.

As far as Day is aware, Aver's laurels are currently being worn by a life size cow plushie on display in Make It Sew.

That had all been years ago, of course. It was before Aster had been brought back– hell, it was before Perce had entered the picture.

His second youngest sometimes feels like he’s been with them forever. It's jarring to remember that there was a time before he or Lee were a part of the family.

He continues, "Christmas is another big holiday for us. It's…" he pauses, brows furrowing in thought.

"...It's a way to reaffirm the spirit of kindness that made them decide to stay here. It doesn’t matter if you've been here two weeks or two years; you get presents. There’s a lot of groups that hold open festivities, because just about everyone here has too much experience with being alone."

Prime knows that Day is familiar with it. He remembers the numb blur of time, blood, and agony that his time in Pandora's Vault became.

Even before that, though– when he was rapidly spiraling out of control– he spent too much time with only his server for company.

By the time things devolved beyond repair, even that was gone. There was just Day, his fury, and the crippling admin drives that ruined him.

He tries not to focus too much on that part of his past. Sometimes he's left breathless over his grief that he had to rip out a part of his soul, to murder the world that never understood why everything was going so wrong so fast.

"It doesn’t matter how fancy the gift is. What's really important, at least from what I've seen, is that you're thinking of the other person. I've heard a lot of stories about the Welcome Wagon reducing people to tears with origami or a box of snacks. One year, the Prank Guild heads hacked into the com network to send everyone a greatest hits montage of server prank wars."

Day remains completely and utterly convinced that they did it with help from the Redstone Alliance. Nobody has ever admitted as such, sure, but Day is incredibly suspicious that the compilation had Theo getting bested so many times.

…The number of times Vio looked like a clown was also pretty damn high. The T3 are united in their rock solid belief that the tech geeks provided the leg work for that particular 'gift.'

Caper and Spark, meanwhile, were able to add another onto the list of server guidelines. Hacking into the com network on that scale for anything short of an emergency isn't cool.

Funny, yes, but not great for the overall mental health of the server.

He stretches his wings out behind him, trying to work out a faint twinge. It's too easy to tune out physical discomfort and pain. This body might have never gone through horrific torture, but Day damn well remembers it.

His pain receptors are, as far as he can tell, just permanently fucked up. It's…been an issue for him.

"And on Christmas night, most of the server gathers for a party. Some people dress up, others wear casual clothes, but it’s fun all around. Food, games, time spent with friends and strangers alike…even active prank wars get set aside for the night.” Another smile creeps up at the memories.

Day is definitely among those who want to dress up. It’s not only a chance to wear something nice, but to show off a lot of the fancier jewelry he’s gotten over the years.

To him, Christmas night is magical. Seeing so many people he’s offered a hand towards gathering together, laughing and talking, in a server shaped not by war but peace…

That feeling is not something he could ever fully put into words.

Seeing his sons in that atmosphere in particular makes him emotional. He still feels a horrible sense of guilt for the suffering that his eldest four endured on the SMPza.

Having them be so carefree, with so many others who care about them…

Yeah, he needs to go to another event. If he doesn’t, he might start crying.

The best way to redirect is, as always, to reflect on the Prank Guild’s actions.

He huffs softly as he says, “April Fool’s day is omnipresent, inescapable, and officially sponsored by the Prank Guild. My understanding is that they make bank. Some people go into lockdown.”

Day’s family is not among them. As long as there aren’t recently-rescued guests in Summer Hills, it’s the best time of year for anyone to try to prank them.

Plenty have tried. A lot have failed, and gotten a taste of what the Was-Taken family can do when sufficiently motivated.

The ones who succeed get a full taste of it. It’s maybe a little too satisfying to see them realize the gravity of their actions far, far too late.

Being able to see their glee turn into regret in real time is definitely petty of him. But at the same time, he only pretends not to be a chaotic bastard at heart.

His kids had to learn it from someone, after all.

But there's plenty of other, less benign things they've learned from him. He can’t help but feel an ache in his chest when he thinks about how much they've all suffered because of his selfishness.

Tone much more serious, he explains, “On the day before the anniversary of the server's creation, we mourn. For people, for places, for things– everyone in Sanctuary has lost something. A collective day of remembrance lets us all grieve. Some people do it alone, others with friends or family. We usually light candles or send lanterns made with seaweed out over the ocean. There’s no wrong way to do it, though.”

Prime knows his own style has shifted over the years. It had been something he did only with his sons, at first.

Then Iatros gently suggested that he should take at least a few hours to focus on his own grief, instead of only theirs.

It was good advice. Day takes time in the morning to let himself ruminate on his past. He's lost so much, and he’ll lose so much more before he's through.

After that, he joins his sons to have a slightly less somber remembrance. He tells stories and listens to the ones they tell, in turn.

He sighs softly. “And…the next day, we celebrate healing. We come together and have a festival to declare that no matter our pain, we're still here. We've escaped hell and found a place that prizes kindness and love. How can we not love that, after we've suffered so much?”

A faint smile creeps up again. It's hard not to, when he thinks about the years he's spent marveling at the way none of them can stand to let negativity linger for too long. Many of the current residents have had a bad parting be the final time they spoke to someone, after all– and that regret has shaped them into the people they are today.

The Night of Flight and Dawn of Sanctuary are two halves of a whole. Pain and grief will find you, yes, but there is always time to heal.

How sweet. You should write greeting cards or something.

Day startles, his head snapping up like he can spot whoever just spoke.

Oh c'mon, DayDream. You're smarter than that!

You don't want to bore me, do you?

A shudder goes down his spine. The flex of power in just those words makes the situation painfully clear.

This is some form of divinity, and boring them is dangerous.

They want to be entertained, like Day is only there to put on a show for them.

A peal of laughter, almost staticky at points, rings out. Fuck, you have no idea how right you are! Why did I bother staying quiet for so long, if it's this much fun speaking up?! Being silent doesn't suit me, anyway. Too much of a showman–

The door slams open, and on the other side is Theo. He looks distressed, a fact that diverts Day's attention from the likely-malicious entity.

“Dad, we have a fuckin’ problem–” Theseus, your timing sucks. I spent so long waiting, and NOW is when you show yourself?!

Theo grits his teeth. “It's been ten minutes.” Hah! If only you knew.

A bitterness lies under those words, but Day is too busy getting up to put a hand on his son's shoulder. “What do you want from us?”

I'm sick of hanging back. This whole mess is going to get stalled out forever unless something changes, anyway. Two birds, one stone.

That explains nothing.

You don't need to understand. You'll figure it out eventually, even if I don't tell you.

Jaw flexing, Theo hisses, “You act like you're above retaliation from other gods. Do you think that Time–”

Laughter booms so loud that they both wince from it. Half-hysterically, the voice repeats, Time? TIME?! I know you're not supposed to know, but holy FUCK…of all the threats you could have made, that's the funniest. It's a dumb one, too– it's not like they'd take your calls.

Day narrows his eyes. It feels like a trap, but–

“Who said we're the only ones who can call?”

A giggle sounds out. Sure; I'll back off if the Observers can get Time to scold me. What could outrank the embodiment of time and reality, anyway?

Somehow, Day doesn't find any comfort in that promise.

#asked&answered #long post #chaotictheseus #daydreamer #mysteriousvoice #RunsTheShow #chronotag #and THIS is why I had to wait until I finished the other one to post this #bc it doesn't make sense to go from questions to the VERY CONCERNING presence of mystery #and then go back to more questions #there are soooooo many hints in here lmao #yellow is used as emphasis like bold or italic would be #bc tumblr is fuckin' weird and doesn't let me to underline easily #and just un-italizing it wasn't bold enough #there's nothing especially important about those words and I genuinely mean that #yellow is actually their secondary color! yes they have a color scheme. and an appearance. and [redacted]!#mystery is a horrible creature but they are near and dear to my heart for. reasons.#when they get their grand reveal it'll change things around here!! :D #the colored text refuses to behave and I can't fix it sorry :((

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giantkillerjack · 2 years

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pssst.... there are a lot of queer christians! their experiences and faith are valid. it sucks you weren't able to jive with the church, but don't act like its impossible because of your sexuality when many other lgbt folx have managed just fine

My friend, you do you, but being a faggot dyke tranny helped keep me out of an abusive organization, and for me and all of my formerly religious friends, that is that.

#t slur #f slur #d slur #truly I am working through a rainbow alphabet of queer slurs at this time!#original #listen if you're able to believe that your God loves you then you should do that.#I tried to for many years myself. but it never came back no matter how much I wanted it #and I think the fact that queer people are generally safer in non-religious environments in America is extremely telling #alright i think I've officially hit my limit with this so I'm probably gonna stop responding to anons #I was such a good little Christian Child. but I was so so sad and so scared and so ashamed. and I didn't even know I was gay yet!#I get that there are queer christians but like. there are waaay more former Christian queers for a reason.#seems only a very small percentage of us born into the church grow up to be in the church #I like how Stephen Fry talks about it. a lot of atheist speakers are fucking assholes about it like Bill Maher but Stephen Fry really #approaches the issue from what appears to be a genuine love for other humans and a desire to see them treated well #maybe it's not impossible for YOUR sexuality but for me I'm too nose deep in pussy praise the Lord it's a medical condition XD #in my defense humor also helped me leave the church. things have less power when they can be funny. and i needed it to have less power.#because it was an abusive situation #gods I'm so proud of the phrase 'nose-deep in pussy'. can't believe I thought of that in a goddamn catechism post 😅#actually no wait I can totally believe that

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piastree · 2 months

Text

The Art of Us

oscar piastri x reader

— Part 1

Next Part

Summary: At a charity event, Oscar teams up with Y/N for a sim racing challenge. They quickly find enjoyment in each other's company, work well together, and form a surprising bond.

yourusername

Liked by user, user and 101,211 others

yourusername It’s finally the day! Looking forward to an unforgettable event with incredible people🏁

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user can't wait to see you there gorgeous!❤️

liked by yourusername

user Can't wait to see your energy and style shine alongside Oscar

user Bring you A-game y/n!

user sooo pretty<3

f1wags

Liked by user, user and 25,666 others

f1wags Few days ago, Oscar Piastri and model Y/N just met at a charity event, and it looks like they’ve been getting close. They teamed up for a sim racing competition, and now they’re following each other on Instagram. Even more interesting—Y/N has been engaging with Oscar's posts, including liking and commenting on a photo he shared a week ago. Looks like these two might be more than just racing buddies. Rumor has it that Oscar recently ended a long-term relationship a few months back. Is this new connection with Y/N something to watch?👀

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user Loving the idea of oscar and Y/N together

user Seeing Y/N call him cute makes me think they’re pretty comfortable with each other

user It’s cute seeing oscar and y/n, but i'm wondering if oscar is really over his last relationship :( Could he be moving on too quickly?

user i was at the event and can confirm that oscar and y/n had great teamwork!

user His previous relationship seemed so perfect and they looked genuinely happy. I’m curious about why Oscar and his ex broke up😔💔

> Part 2

I'm bringing something new for this race week. Hope Oscar gets his second win at the Spa GP!! Btw drop your thoughts and let me know who wants to be added to the taglist :D Btw part 2 will come in the minutes

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri au #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri smau

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barcaatthemoon · 6 months

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apologize || lucy bronze x reader ||

lucy shows up at your door asking for you to take her back.

you should have known what to expect when barcelona played real mardrid. lucy had flip flopped emotionally after your breakup. she knew that you were angry with her for a lot of different things, but she hadn't expected you to genuinely be done enough to leave. in lucy's mind, you didn't mean it because you hadn't before. and now, she was stuck in an apartment that felt too big because you and buffy were gone.

"can i come in?" lucy asked you. it was a dumb quesion, but you had a stupid answer to give her back. "i've got a toy for b."

"she doesn't like barcelona," you said as you looked at the little barcelona dog toy that lucy had in her hand. she glanced past you to see the golden retriever with the old barcelona collar lucy had bought. lucy quirked an eyebrow as she pointed at the dog, who was waiting patiently behind you for lucy to come to her. somehow, buffy had been dealing with the breakup the worst, always whining and looking for the spots where lucy would have been back home.

"then she can tear it to shreds, just please let me in," lucy pleaded with you. you sighed and stepped aside. lucy smiled and pressed a kiss against your cheek as she moved into your apartment. "thank you lovey."

"don't call me that," you snapped at her. lucy frowned as she knelt down in front of buffy. your dog sniffed at the toy, but ignored it in favor of cuddling up with lucy.

"you got big, baby b. you're not a baby anymore, are you?" there was a hint of guilt in lucy's voice. she had been there when you got buffy as a puppy, and for the first year or so of the dog's life as well. now, she had missed the last seven months. "how has she adjusted to the move?"

"it could be better, but we're doing okay," you told lucy. she smiled as she stood up and turned to face you. "why are you really here?"

"to ask for forgiveness and a second chance. i miss you so much. i won't ask you to come back to barcelona, but i want you in my life. i'll come here, i'll do anything, but please, let me back in."

"lucy, you're the one who told me to go in the first place. you said that you were sick of me, remember?" you stared at her as you waited for her to answer you. lucy remembered it all, and she didn't know why she had snapped at you that night. things had been tough with the team, and after it sounded like alexia wouldn't be coming back as soon as they hoped, lucy lost it. if you had been any less secure in yourself, you would have accused her of cheating on you.

"please, just come back to me. i miss you," lucy admitted. you could tell that it was hard for her to say that, but she still hadn't actually apologized to you yet. "i'll make it up to you, i swear."

"apologize to me lucy. we were together for a year, and no matter what you did, i never made you say sorry. things are different now, and if you want me to let you back in, you have to apologize," you told her. lucy's face fell, as if what you had asked of her was impossible. you scoffed and started to walk away from her when she finally spoke up.

"i am sorry. i am sorry for neglecting our relationship. i am sorry for not being as nice to you as i should have been. i am sorry for snapping at you when you just wanted to talk to me. i am sorry for letting you walk out and not talking to you, but it took everything in me not to crawl back to you before either of us were ready. lovey, i can't express how sorry i am that i ruined our relationship," lucy apologized. you stopped and turned around to see her staring at the ground. the sniffle was quiet, but you didn't miss it anyway.

"oh bonita." you were over in lucy's arms before you had time to blink. you could feel her tears dripping onto your shirt as she buried her face against you. "i didn't think you'd do it."

"i meant it when i said i'd do anything to get back with you," lucy said. "can i stay here tonight?"

"that's moving things a little fast, but we never did go at everybody else's speed, did we?" you laughed. "you can stay, but don't try anything lucy. i'm trusting you to do things right this time."

"i will, and if i don't, you will never have to even look at me again," lucy swore. she wasn't one for over the top statements like that, so you knew that she meant it. she'd be good to you this time because she really hadn't loved anybody like you in a long time.

#woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso imagine #lucy bronze imagine #lucy bronze x reader

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mcdynamite · 2 years

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When everything settles down after Vecnapocalypse, Steve gets a call from the athletic director at Hawkins High School, and a day later, he accepts a part-time position as the assistant coach of the Hawkins High varsity basketball team.

Lucas is obviously stoked, and the other kids concede (after a few minutes of bemoaning Steve's return to the Dark Side) that it's a perfect job for him. Robin screeches with delight, and Nancy tells him she's proud of him, and Jonathan thumps him on the back with a quiet, "Congrats, man," and Eddie?

Well, Eddie just rolls his eyes and makes a joke about the Return of the King that goes right over Steve's head (but has the kids and, wouldn't ya know it, Nancy, grinning) and doesn't say much else.

It's probably stupid, but Eddie has actually (horrifyingly) grown to like hanging out with Steve. Sure, he knows next to nothing about D&D or Lord of the Rings or metal music, but that doesn't seem to matter all that much. He still listens to Eddie rant about all of those aforementioned interests and does his best to understand, even if he doesn't particularly care about the content of Eddie's latest campaign. He lets Eddie play Dio and Metallica and Black Sabbath for him, and even though Eddie can tell he's not really into most of their music, at the end of his "Musication" he gives Eddie a list of the songs he actually liked, so they have some stuff to listen to when they hang out that won't make one of them want to puncture their own eardrums.

He even looks genuinely apologetic (and, dare Eddie say, disappointed?) when he tells Eddie that it's not that he doesn't want to read Lord of the Rings. It's just that he can't, because reading is really fucking hard when the letters won't stop jumping all over the damn place.

The point is: Eddie likes Steve. He likes Steve's sarcastic quips and his attentiveness, and his hilarious but well-meaning and frighteningly successful mothering of the teenagers they apparently co-parent. Eddie likes Steve, and he likes being his friend, and he's afraid that this stupid Assistant Coach job will end up dragging Steve headfirst back into his King Steve days, and Steve will forget all about being friends with Eddie "The Freak" Munson.

It's so, so stupid, because while Eddie likes Steve, he also knows Steve, and he knows that Steve isn't the guy who used to hang around the Tommy Hagans of the world anymore. But the fear is there, and it's still there by the time the school year starts and Steve starts getting busy "prepping" for his new job, which... what? The basketball season doesn't start until January, so what the hell kind of prep would Steve be starting in August?

Eddie wonders, but he doesn't ask. He just anxiously waits to see if Steve will eventually decide to ditch him, and he continues to be quietly delighted when Steve always, always makes time for the two of them to hang out.

The thought of Steve going back into jock-mode still makes him kinda sick, but he'll never tell Steve that. Steve is way too excited for the start of the basketball season, and Eddie is gonna support him the same way Steve supports Eddie at his Corroded Coffin concerts: with begrudging interest and genuine pride, so help him God.

It goes on like this until one day, Eddie's begrudging interest suddenly becomes a little more genuine, when he accidentally stumbles upon what Steve meant for the last three months whenever he said he was "prepping for the season."

He's got plans to hang out with Steve that afternoon, pulling up in his van fifteen minutes late because time management has never been one of his strong suits. Only, when he gets to Casa Harrington, he notices something strange. The garage is open.

The thing is, Steve always parks the Beemer in the driveway. He never uses the garage. Actually, Eddie didn't even realize Steve had a garage at all, until now, but he hears some clanging coming from inside and goes to investigate. He walks past the Beemer (parked in the driveway where it always is) and peers inside, expecting to maybe find Steve... repairing something? Reorganizing? Honestly, he has no clue what he thinks he'll find in there.

What he definitely doesn't expect to find is Steve Harrington in the middle of what appears to be a pretty fucking intense workout – hair and tank top damp with sweat, wearing frankly indecently short shorts, and breathing steadily as he does fucking pull-ups on the bar in his garage, which has apparently been converted into a whole goddamn home gym.

Eddie stops in his tracks and stares, affording himself a moment or two to have a teeny, tiny (enormous) crisis over it.

Steve hasn't noticed him yet, and Eddie can't tear his stupid eyes away from the way Steve's arms tremble from the exertion as he pulls himself up, face pinched into a concentrated frown. Eddie can see him gritting his teeth, can see the muscles in his arms and shoulders straining a little bit. Even worse, every time Steve lowers himself down, his stupid tank top rides up just enough to expose the (not at all soft, apparently) plains of his stomach, glistening with sweat, and God, Eddie wants to lick Steve fucking Harrington's abs like a-

Oh, no.

Oh, fuck no.

Oh, Jesus H. Christ, fucking shit, NO.

Listen... It's not like Eddie hasn't already known for years that he's gay. He's been fully aware of that since middle school. It's the reason his dad kicked him out and sent him to live with Wayne, for fuck's sake. It's just that Eddie has put a lot of effort into pretending his thoughts about Steve Harrington were totally, completely, 100% platonic up until this point, and now he can feel all of that hard work going down the metaphorical drain.

He stands there, stock still with his jaw hinged open, and stares while his brain melts out of his ears and his thoughts begin to race. God, those fucking arms. Eddie's not weak, but he's definitely weaker than Steve, which means Steve could definitely pin Eddie down if he wanted to. In a bed. Against the wall. On the hood of a car. Fuck, on the goddamn floor – Eddie's not picky! All he knows is that he wants Steve to leave the workout for later so Eddie can lick the sweat off of him, which... gross. But also hot. But also-

"Eddie?"

Oh, fuck. How does one talk to the sun?

Steve has noticed him standing there, obviously, which sort of makes Eddie wonder how long he's been staring. Time stopped in Eddie's world the moment a sweaty Steve Harrington entered his field of vision, so he truly has no idea how bad his staring got.

Christ, this is going to be so bad.

So, so bad.

"Eds?" Steve says, his face pinching into a frown. "You okay?"

Oh my god, you moron, say something! Eddie's brain screams at him.

"What?" Smooth. "Uh, yeah! Totally fine. Just, y'know, like, lost in thought, or whatever. Plotting my next demonic attempt at world domination. The usual."

Steve looks at him like he's grown a second head, which... is fair. But Eddie's fumbling attempt at speech is at least embarrassing enough to take precedence over the cacophonous sound of whatever Ode to Abs his mind was attempting to compose, and Eddie feels like he can think a little more clearly.

"Ah, fuck," Eddie mutters, pinching the bridge of his nose. He sighs and looks at Steve apologetically. "I'm sorry, dude. I swear I'm fine. It's just been a weird day."

Steve cocks his head to the side like a particularly inquisitive puppy, and oh God, it's adorable. Eddie loathes how adorable it is. "Good weird?" Steve asks. "Or bad weird?"

Eddie ponders his answer for a moment, then replies with, "Weird weird."

That's enough to startle a laugh out of Steve, who shakes his head and wraps a towel around his neck. "Fair enough, man. Sorry about all of this, by the way." He gestures vaguely towards the home gym in his garage and shrugs sheepishly. "I was gonna be done before you got here but I sorta... lost track of time, I guess." He's got an unreadable look on his stupidly beautiful face, and Eddie doesn't like that at all. He doesn't like that one bit.

But he decides not to overthink it and brushes Steve's apology off with a wave of his hand. "It's whatever, dude. Might wanna shower, though." The ‘otherwise I might take it upon my gay little self to lick you clean’ is left blessedly unsaid.

Steve laughs again, and just like that, things start to feel a bit less earth-shattering. They banter for a bit longer, then Steve really does go to take a quick shower, and they spend the rest of the night lying on the floor of Steve's living room, listening to the metal mix tape they made together and bitching about their brood of teenagers.

Weirdly, though, after that day, Steve seems to be working out a lot more frequently. As in almost every single time he and Eddie have plans. Day after day, Eddie is treated to the sight of Steve Harrington looking like a goddamn Greek god, and day after day, Steve catches his eye and smiles before abandoning his equipment and acting like Eddie's world hasn't been completely turned on its head.

It's starting to drive him kind of insane, honestly, and his pining has gotten so bad that even Gareth and Jeff know.

"He's just so pretty!" Eddie whines for what feels like the thousandth time.

His band mates simply exchange a long-suffering look and let him ramble.

It all comes to a head in November, just before Thanksgiving, when Eddie shows up and once again finds Steve finishing a workout. Just like always, Steve shoots him a good-natured grin and greets him before heading inside for a quick shower, and just like always, Eddie waits downstairs.

NOT like always, however, this time Steve comes jogging down the stairs with wet hair, wearing a pair of joggers and... absolutely nothing else.

It's been a long time since Eddie last saw Steve without a shirt on (since the day at Lover's Lake when they found watergate, to be precise), and suddenly Eddie is remembering why he'd immediately pulled out a cigarette to calm down that day. Only this time it's even worse, because Steve has really been putting effort into these workouts, and it shows.

His chest is toned and covered in coarse hair that Eddie kind of wants to tug on, just to see what sort of sounds Steve would make if he did. He's got the makings of an honest-to-God six pack just barely visible on his abdomen, partially obscured by scars Eddie recognizes from looking at his own in the mirror. Steve's are slightly smaller and not as deep, but they clearly came from the same sets of tiny jaws, and Eddie finds them weirdly comforting, these matching scars that they share. Steve's look pale in contrast against his skin, and God, Eddie just wants to kiss them. He wants to worship them and every other inch of the man who bears them.

The man who definitely just said something Eddie didn't hear because he was too busy trying not to pass out from mere proximity to something so beautiful.

"Sorry, what?" Eddie asks, shaking his head violently in an attempt to dispel his traitorous thoughts.

Steve smirks, but Eddie can see the soft fondness in his eyes when he cocks his head to the side and repeats the words Eddie missed the first time. "I asked if you see something you like, Munson," Steve teases, one hand carding wet hair out of his face, and Eddie just blinks at him.

Play it off, play it off, play it off, his brain supplies helpfully. He can totally play this off. Dudes stare at their friends’ chests all the time, right?

"What?" he practically squeaks. "I- well... no, wait, um... ah, fuck."

So much for plausible deniability.

He's just beginning to feel vaguely panicky when Steve seems to catch on, and he's right in front of Eddie in an instant, concerned, hazel eyes gazing down at Eddie's grimacing face.

"Hey," Steve says, reaching out like he wants to touch Eddie but thinks better of it. "It's okay, man. You're okay. I'm just messing with you."

The impact of his words is instant, and Eddie can feel his face heating up. Of course Steve was joking. God, Eddie is such an idiot.

"Right," Eddie says, voice strained. He rubs his face with both hands, shaking his head lightly. "Duh. Obviously you were teasing." His voice sounds strange even to his own ears, and he's got a weird feeling of anticipation in his stomach that tells him that he's already shown too many of his cards.

"I mean, yeah..." Steve says, seeming nervous for the first time since Eddie got here. His hands flit from the back of his neck to his hair to his waist, like he doesn't know what to do with them. "Teasing is, like, flirting 101, so..."

Eddie freezes.

"Oh my God, wait..." he says slowly, finally daring to meet Steve's confused eyes. "Flirting?"

Steve looks utterly perplexed now, and he does that thing where he cocks his head to the side in confusion.

It's still adorable. Fuck, why is it so adorable?

"Um... yes?" He studies Eddie, seems to register the shock on his face, and then matches it with shock of his own. "Wait, you didn't know? I thought you knew!"

"I most certainly did not!" Eddie counters, feeling a bit like he's having an out-of-body experience.

"Oh my God," Steve says. "Oh my God, Eddie, I've been flirting with you for, like, months!"

"Months?!" Eddie's voice has officially reached the stratosphere.

"Yes!" Steve yelps. He looks torn between laughing and crying, though Eddie thinks it'll be mildly hilarious no matter what choice he makes. "Jesus, dude, I winked at you while I was doing pull-ups last week! What did you think that was?"

"A hallucination!" Eddie says immediately. "You're straight, Harrington!"

At that, Steve snorts, then shakes his head.

Eddie's pretty sure his brain is melting by now.

"Yeah, um, no," Steve says firmly. "I'm definitely not straight."

"You... I... What? Since when?"

"Well..." Steve begins, briefly glancing away. "Since forever, technically. Probably. But officially, since that time I made out with Tommy H. after we got wasted at a party sophomore year. And if that wasn't enough proof, I think the amount of time I’ve spent staring at your ass lately definitely is."

Eddie stares at him. "Am I dead?" he asks dumbly. "Is this Heaven? Am I having a fucking stroke?"

Steve's laughter is bright when it rings through his living room, and Eddie is grateful when Steve carefully raises a hand to cup his cheek, because the soft touch is grounding in the best way.

"Definitely not dead, Eds," Steve says. "And shit, I hope you're not having a stroke. How many fingers am I holding up?"

Eddie just blinks at him, because Steve has one hand on Eddie's cheek and the other on Eddie's arm, and he's definitely not holding up any fingers. "Zero, Harrington, what the fuck?" he says weakly.

Steve laughs – no, scratch that, he giggles. He fucking giggles.

If Eddie isn't dead yet, he's about to be.

"Good. See?" Steve says. "Not having a stroke."

"I don't think that's how strokes work, dude," Eddie says weakly.

"No?" Steve asks, though he's still smiling, and he looks wholly unbothered by Eddie's doubting of his medical prowess.

Eddie shakes his head, eyes wide as Steve huffs out a laugh and slips an arm around his waist to pull him closer. They're practically chest to chest now, and Eddie is suddenly reminded of how very shirtless Steve currently is. He's mildly horrified by the way his hands tremble slightly when he rests them flat against the center of Steve's chest, but it's not like anyone can blame him! He's only ever kissed a couple of people before, and now he's somehow found himself in the arms of a half naked Steve Harrington. So, yeah, he's feeling a little jittery. Sue him.

If Steve notices the jitters, though, he doesn't mention it. Instead, he gives Eddie a soft, disarming smile that makes Eddie feel pathetically weak at the knees. "So..." Steve says, cheeks turning a pretty pink color. "Hi."

A slightly manic bark of laughter bursts from Eddie's lungs, but it only seems to make Steve smile wider. "Yeah, hi, Stevie," Eddie breathes.

And then he nearly stops breathing completely when Steve's thumb drags gently across his cheek. It's such a sweet gesture that Eddie thinks he might melt right into the floorboards.

"So..." Steve murmurs again, gaze not leaving Eddie's. "It has recently been brought to my attention that you didn't realize I was flirting with you this whole time."

Eddie doesn't need a mirror to know that his face flushes bright red at Steve's words.

"But I have been," Steve continues. He bites his lip, almost like he's nervous, which is ridiculous because what the fuck is there about Eddie that could be making Steve Harrington nervous right now? "Like, I've been doing it constantly, because you're funny, and sweet, and sort of adorable, but also kinda hot? Y'know, because you have the tattoos and stuff, and you're all dramatic all the time, and it's hot, but then sometimes you do that thing where you hide your face behind your hair, and it's so fucking cute, Eddie, I mean..."

Steve trails off, cheeks growing even pinker after seemingly realizing that he's been rambling, and Eddie feels like he's going insane.

"Anyway," Steve says, clearing his throat. "I like you, Eddie. Like, a lot. And I've sort of been dying to kiss you for, like, months, so-"

Eddie never lets Steve finish his sentence, because the moment the word kiss leaves his mouth, Eddie is leaning forward and pressing their lips together in a soft, fleeting kiss that's over far too fast.

So fast, in fact, that it takes a moment for reality to catch up to Eddie afterwards. He's already pulling away by the time it hits him: he just kissed Steve Harrington.

He, Eddie fucking Munson, just kissed Steve fucking Harrington.

"Holy shit," Eddie mutters, gaze flitting back and forth between Steve's wide eyes. "Holy shit."

There's a brief pause, and then Steve starts to laugh.

It starts as a soft chuckle and slowly transforms into bright, elated laughter that echoes off the walls and bathes the whole room in sunlight, never mind the rainy day outside. It's light and happy and beautiful, and Eddie unfreezes after a moment to add his own laughter to the mix. He drops his head onto Steve's shoulder, a shiver running down his spine when Steve's arms come around him automatically, like they were made to fit together like this.

Eddie wonders if maybe they were.

When their laughter finally dies down, Steve carefully pulls back just enough to meet Eddie's eyes again, and Eddie smiles shyly up at him.

"Sorry," Eddie says without a hint of guilt in his voice. "You said the word kiss and I panicked."

Steve just shakes his head and grins. "See? Like I said - adorable." One of his hands raises to cradle Eddie's cheek again, and Eddie doesn't hesitate before leaning into the touch. "But if it's okay with you," Steve says softly, “I'd really like to give you a proper kiss, now."

And yep, it's official. Steve Harrington is going to be the death of him.

Eddie can't fucking wait.

He nods and lets his gaze flit down to Steve's lips for a fraction of a second before Steve is closing the distance between them, and oh... this is so much better than the quick, vaguely frantic press of lips they exchanged only a few moments ago. Eddie takes back every judgemental comment he's ever made about the girls who were obsessed with Steve Harrington in high school, because he gets it now.

Oh, God, he gets it.

Because Steve kisses him, soft and sure, like Eddie is the only thing that matters in all the world. It's gentle and sweet and perfect – not an ounce of hesitation in the way Steve slots their lips together. And then Steve just... stays there, like he's giving Eddie a moment to catch up, to process what's happening.

He's so goddamn patient – so fucking kind – and Christ, Eddie adores him for it.

Steve pulls back just enough to break the kiss, and Eddie doesn't whine. He doesn't. But it's okay, because Steve doesn't leave him hanging for long, threading his fingers through Eddie's curls and using them as leverage to tug him even closer into a kiss that turns Eddie's legs to jelly. Steve's tongue slides against Eddie's so beautifully, and his hands are so strong, and he smells like lemony soap and minty toothpaste (did Steve brush his teeth after showering? God, he's ridiculous. He’s perfect.) and Eddie can feel the muscles in Steve's chest shift whenever they move, and, and, and...

And yeah, this time when Steve pulls away, breath coming quicker and eyes shining with happiness, Eddie does whine. Or maybe it's a whimper. Maybe it's both. Christ, Eddie doesn't care. He'll keep making that noise forever if Steve keeps looking at him like this.

"Fuck," Eddie breathes. He knows he probably looks embarrassingly awestruck, but he can't find it in himself to care. "How are you so fucking hot, Steve? What the fuck?" His face is on fire, but Steve just laughs – nope, there's that giggle again – and kisses Eddie's forehead.

Eddie's pretty sure he's melting, but honestly? Worth it.

"I don't know if you've noticed," Steve teases, "but I've actually been working out a lot lately..."

Not even Eddie's lovesickness could protect Steve from the playful smack he gets for that.

"Did I notice?" Eddie huffs. "You're the worst, Harrington."

Steve just smiles and kisses him again.

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spideyhexx · 9 months

Note

i NEED more sejanus teaching coryo how to pleasure reader!! 😭😭

don't we all! This is more just experimenting? Idk we'll see, it's still something!

mdni

am having this thought about being at the library at the academy and you're studying alone, waiting for Sej and Coryo to join you.

They're not far from you. They're almost lurking near some bookshelves, talking about whatever class and whatever final they need to work on while Sej is looking for some book.

Coryo is very focused on you though. His gaze keeps slipping from Sej to you, a determined look on your face and a small crease in your brow as you go back and forth between reading and writing.

Sejanus notices and bumps his shoulder into the taller man's. "I bet you can't get her on her knees under the table."

Coryo doesn't expect something dirty to have come out of Sej's mouth and he looks at him, his eyes wide. "I can do that."

Sej gives him a little smirk. "Good luck." And then he's shoving Coryo forward towards you.

And poor Coryo, he really does try! He sits next to you and feigns interest in what you're doing, but you know this! His hand on your thigh is a dead giveaway, but you entertain it, wanting to see what he does.

Coryo would help you, recite stuff from the book you have open so you can jot it down in your study notes, his hand still on your thigh and rubbing it gently. He'd even try to mimic the curling of his fingers.

"You want something, Coryo?" You ask him finally and he swallows. He hates losing and now that the idea of you under the table with his cock down your throat is caressing his mind, he needs to make sure he wins the little bet Sej offered.

He takes your hand that isn't holding a pencil and puts it over his bulge, his eyes never leaving yours. The gesture is bold for him. You squeeze him through his pants and he bites on his tongue.

"I have work to do, sorry Snow." And then you're letting go of him and turning back to the papers and books in front of you.

Coryo leans in closer, his hand rubbing higher up your thigh. "I know, but maybe you need a little break? Refresh your mind?"

You chuckle at that and shake your head, "I'm good, Coryo." He's just about to beg you instead, but he doesn't let himself. He wants you to be the one begging to take his cock right here in the library, but he lacks the right skill to convince you it seems.

"I'll be right back," he mutters and stands up, walking away and disappearing in the bookshelves to find Sej laughing to himself.

"Very funny, thank you," he snarks at Sej. "Why don't you go try?"

Sej points to himself with a humorous smile on his face and pats Coryo's shoulder. "As you wish." Coryo watches from afar as Sej sits opposite you with the book he picked out.

For a good five minutes, the both of you sitting in silence. Then he sees Sej's head turn up and he seems to ask you something but Coryo can't hear. Once you respond, Sej is moving to sit next to you and Coryo finds a closer place he can eavesdrop.

You let go of your pencil and shake your hand out. "Oh, baby, you've been writing too much, here," Sej coos at you and reaches for your hand, massaging it in his own, effectively making you move closer to him.

Coryo rolls his eyes at it.

You lean your head down against Sej's shoulder as he massages your hand and Sej kisses your head. "You've been working so hard."

"I know, it's finals kicking my ass." Sej chuckles and pulls your hand to his lips, kissing each knuckle.

"You'll be okay, baby, you're so smart and pretty." You laugh, holding onto his hand and kissing his knuckles just like he did yours.

"Being pretty has nothing to do with passing my finals."

Coryo seethes from his spot and he feels like he genuinely wants to punch Sejanus.

"Perhaps, but you're still my pretty girl, hm?" You nod and look up at the boy and his big brown eyes. Sej cups the side of your face with one of his hands, his thumb tracing underneath your bottle lip.

"You want to take a little break?" All you can do it nod and he kisses your forehead. "Good girl, you deserve it." Another kiss to your forehead, followed by a trail of them down your nose until his lips are lingering right over yours.

"You want me in your mouth, pretty girl? Can suck on me nice and slow, just relax?"

No words escape your lips, your body only knowing how to nod at this point and Sej takes a quick look around the library before helping you onto your knees between his legs.

You'd lock eyes with Coryo while your mouth is stuffed with Sej. Coryo hates that he loves it. Loves watching you do something so dirty despite the fact he lost the bet. That regardless if he's fooling around with you two, he's basically spying right now.

Sej's fingers dip under your chin and your gaze diverts back to the man above you.

"Only look at me right now, baby, okay?"

let's chat about sejanus, coryo, or both, here :)

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luveline · 11 months

Note

Hello lovely Jade! Can we please get something where reader is watching a horror movie with best friend!Remus (that’s she’s head over heels for) and is so scared she ends up on his lap? Love you!

love you :D♡♡ fem, modern au

"I really don't like this."

Remus laughs under his breath. "Don't be a scaredy cat," he whispers.

You take the pillow from his lap without asking and hold it in front of your face, peering over the top as the TV turns quiet. Quiet means suspense, and suspense leads to jumpscares.

"I always am," you whisper back, stretching back in your seat.

The settee is old and dipped in the centre, leaving you and Remus thigh to thigh, as close as you can be to one another without having your legs tangled. "It's not that bad," Remus says, putting an arm behind you in a show of support. "It's hiding in the kitchen cupboard, watch."

His warning doesn't stop the flinch of the demon's appearance nor the way you jump back, almost dropping your head into him. "Sorry," you say.

"Don't apologise," he says, but it's lost as the horror keeps on coming— the demon possesses the daughter, the daughter splits her head open on a wall. Something sharp splinters from her face and it's disgusting, it's too much, you whine something silly and push the pillow over your eyes. "Dove, don't suffocate. Look, I think it's done now," he says.

You look as he tells you to, trusting of your oldest, bestest friend, and your loyalty is rewarded with another scare that catches you off guard completely, a fleshy face of black gore so close to the camera that it feels like it's in the room. You scramble away from the screen and into Remus' arms forcefully, turning away from the screen and into his embrace. "What the fuck," you gasp.

Difficult to explain why you're genuinely frightened but not the immediate safety of Remus' arm behind you, the tight hold of it, the ridge of a bicep pressed hard to your shoulders. "I'll turn it off," he says quickly, though his hands stay right where they are on your jumper.

He smells like sandalwood and autumn rain, that earthy smell of rain and crushed leaves, like a walk in the woods. You start to laugh as you breathe him in, aware of the terrible fool you've made of yourself and the humour in the situation, at least.

"I'm so sorry," you laugh, moving back, careful not to knee him somewhere delicate.

His face comes into view, not half as annoyed as you worried it would be, brown eyes sugary sweet with soft lashes to match, his hands falling to your elbows. "Let me pause it." He keeps a hand on the middle of your back, fingers spread, encapsulating. It says I'm here without asking for anything in return. "Fucking hell, dove, I know you have bad nerves, but I've never seen one get you like that."

You should put some amicable space between you. Remus should drop his hand. Instead, you put your hand on his collarbone and catch your breath, the excitement an instant headache waiting to bloom behind your eyes.

"There," he says, his gaze back on you. "That'll help."

You glance over your shoulder. Remus has changed the channel to World of Zoo, where a baby panda tries to stand while holding its own foot. "Nice," you say, smiling sheepishly to yourself. Nice. You loser.

You turn back suddenly when his hand strokes your cheek. Two fingers, the backs of his marriage and pinky, tracing a short line down your still trembling cheek. "Seriously, dove, calm down. You think I'd let something hurt you?" he asks softly.

"No, I–" Can he stop you from swallowing your own tongue. "Of course not."

"I can't believe it," he says, dropping his hand. "Never seen you like that, what happened?" He rubs your back roughly like he's trying to warm you up. "Let me make you a cup of tea, lovely."

He says this, and yet he makes no move to leave your side. His behaviour is almost as odd as the way you respond, sinking into his touch.

#remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n #marauders era #remus x reader #remus x you #marauders #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin blurb #marauders x reader #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fanfic #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders

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eustasskidagenda · 11 months

Note

can i request headcanons of what the monster trio+Usopp and Law think of Goth reader who wears all black, has tattoos and piercings, and loves horror ?? and who would like goths the most?? and idk how but could u mix a little nsfw with this if possible?? thank u!!

Yes, sure thing, here we go with some headcanons ! I didn't add nsfw for Luffy because I do not write smut for him. But for the others, there's a bit of nsfw at the end. Hope it meets your expectations, thank you for requesting :D

☆Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usopp & Law with a goth s/o

CW : g/n reader, MDNI, both sfw and nsfw, mention of alcohol for Zoro, mention of bullets for law, mention of blood and murder still for law (he’s talking about a horror movie)

WC : 2,4K

Luffy

Luffy's open-mindedness and curiosity would lead him to ask many questions about your style. He finds it cool.

"When did you discover this lifestyle?", "What's the meaning of your tattoo?", "What's your fav piercing?"

At random times, he would touch your tattoos and then, questions time again, "Is it really in your skin? Can you take showers with them, it doesn't fade? Oh wait, look, I can slide my finger into your earring gauge. All those piercings, woh, you must have a lot of holes."

He's so innocent, help.

Of course, he would love to try some goth clothes or to wear make-up just like you. Good luck, he's an incompetent model. Always fidgeting. He is unable to remain still. He would be quite annoying. You would clearly have a lot of struggles to draw a beautiful eyeliner on his over-smiling face.

And you know, those scenes where he's imitating Sanji or Chopper? He would imitate you. Not to make fun of you, just because Luffy loves that kind of imitation.

He believes that his full black outfit and stunning eye-liner make him look really cool. He would be so proud to show the good job you made on him to everyone.

Even while sleeping, he would keep his make-up on. He doesn't know that make-up needs to be removed.

If you want to watch a horror movie, he may freak out because it was really scary or he may laugh heartily because it was quite funny. Especially in a slasher movie. He thinks that the characters' terrible decisions are amusing. "That was hilarious!"

He would love to trace your tattoos with his fingers. Luffy is fond of physical touch with his loved ones, so yes, his hands would be glued to your tattoos all the time.

"Hey, Y/N, I have an idea for your next tattoo!" While showing you a really ugly drawing. This guy can't even draw a proper circle so a full tattoo…

He wants to see it on your body now, so good luck.

Zoro

CW : slight roux sex, oral sex (Zoro receiving), slight dacryphilia

Zoro is so oblivious and stoic that he doesn't care much about anything. He's not into fashion or trends; the only thing he's truly interested in is saké and training. He would not really care about what you're wearing, like he doesn't even know it's called gothic. For him, it's just black clothes, make up, tattoos and piercings. It's fine as long as you enjoy your outfit.

"Ugh, it's called goth… I thought it was just black clothes…"

However, if someone dares to make a mean comment about your style, he would be pissed off. Zoro craves honor and respect, so he would get really angry. No one can make fun of his s/o.

"Ain't no fucking way" if you want to put make-up on his face. Paint his nails black is the only thing you can do.

I believe he would be fond of your piercings. He has some earrings himself, and he thinks they're cool. He would offer you some jewels sometime. "I thought it would look cool on you." Although his appearance is stoic, he has a genuine desire to please you.

And if you two are watching a horror movie together… honestly he would just fall asleep. Saw? Sleeping. Conjuring? Sleeping. Alien? Sleeping. The silence of the lambs? S.l.e.e.p.i.n.g. You just can't freak out Zoro. But he would enjoy having a peaceful moment with you.

NSFW

Zoro would be thrilled if you got a tattoo on your back. What a beautiful sight when he takes you roughly from behind: he can watch his cock sliding in and out of you, your ass, and your back tattoo. He would retrace your tattoo with his hands and bite or lick it. All. The. Time.

Another thing he would enjoy? Your tongue piercing. "That's it, put this piercing into good use" while you're literally gagging on his cock slamming deep down your throat. The way you piercing rolls along his length or on his tip would elicit deep, low grunts from Zoro. Your watery eyes, faded eyeliner, and black drops running down your cheek would be a major turn-on for him. "Fuck, you look so pretty with your make-up all messed up."

Sanji

CW : oral sex (reader receiving), penetrative sex (no mention of genital for the reader), for the last paragraph, the reader is wearing a skirt + fishnet tights, but no pronoun used

Sanji would love your style. He likes fashion and well-dressed people. He thinks that black outfits combined with beautiful smoky eyes and some piercings is an amazing style.

But well, it's Sanji, so even if you were wearing a paper towel outfit, he would still think you're the most beautiful person in the whole universe.

He would be a fantastic help with your makeup. Are you in need of flawless eyeliner? Just leave it to him. Same with the lipstick or even nail polish. He is a divine being with hands and he probably learned a few things during the time skip.

He would have a great time watching scary movies with you. Because it means spending time with his s/o. He would prepare some healthy snacks for the both of you. But on the flip side, he's not a big fan of violence, so he would take this opportunity to get closer to you. "Oh, so scary!" Before holding you firmly. And no letting you go before the end of the movie.

Sanji would be more than happy to help you choose new clothes, make-up, or jewelry. He has really good taste. And he would try some outfits himself just to please you.

"Y/N, try this one" while showing you a shirt with a big low-cut neckline. Just because he likes to watch your chest.

If you have a tattoo on your chest, prepare yourself because Sanji's hands would be glued on it. It's too beautiful to resist, he can't help it.

Whenever you get a new tattoo, he will certainly aid you in applying the cream. He's more than happy to lend a hand if it involves touching you.

NSFW

When you're watching a movie, Sanji would enjoy the "chill" time more than the "movie" time. He would begin to retrace all of your tattoos while the movie is still running before going down on you. "Let's see if you can scream more than those guys on screen."

The way you look at him with those beautiful made-up eyes while he's thrusting into you? Intoxicating. The passion, the eyeliner, the make-up…. If you begin to kiss his neck, smearing your lipstick on his skin, his cock would be throbbing within you. It's too much for him to handle.

If you're into wearing skirts and fishnet tights, Sanji would definitely nosebleed. He would just pin you against the wall or sit you on the table, hike up your skirt, and slowly sink his length into you, moaning close to your ear.

Usopp

CW: slight fingering (reader receiving), slight cum play

At the start, he would be impressed by you. Once Usopp gets accustomed to your style, he would absolutely love it.

Your aesthetic, particularly your tattoos and jewels, would be a great source of inspiration for him. Since he is a god of his hands, he would create some outfits and jewels for you.

To surprise you, he would work really hard on a beautiful tattoo. Unlike Luffy, he is skilled at drawing. He also knows your tastes, so honestly, the final piece would be mesmerizing. Usopp would be very proud if you tattooed his drawing on your skin.

"R-really, you… you tattooed my drawing on your skin?" With a flustered expression and his heart pounding.

Even though Usopp doesn't share the same musical/cinematographic tastes, he would try to learn more about your likes. Despite his dislike for scary movies. Our poor Usopp would be so freaked out, especially with the jump scares. At the conclusion of the movie, he would become clingy and even fearful of sleeping alone in the dark.

He's a dreamer and a good storyteller, so seeing your outfits would help him with his inspiration. He loves to imagine stories and would end up daydreaming about you wearing specific outfits in specific situations. Occasionally, he would draw you.

Perhaps he could make a weapon that is based on your favorite music or movie. He's so creative.

He's a coward so piercings/tattoos are not for him, but he would help you take care of yours. And he's really conscientious about it.

The same applies to your hairstyle or make-up, Usopp knows how to cut hair and he's good with make-up because he's an artist. Please let him do your make-up and hair. He's fond of those moments of intimacy.

NSFW

"Hey y/n… so I have an idea… you know… your outfit is quite… pretty. I'd love to draw you… but you know, like… a spicy drawing… I mean, an artistic one… you see?" he would babble so much. Poor Usopp is so embarrassed. But he can't help it, you're really inspiring his creative soul. And as you accept being drawn in some suggestive positions, Usopp would try his best to keep both hands on his pencil and hide how turned on he is. But his hard cock pressing against his pants is unavoidable. Please, have mercy.

Another fantasy of his? Painting of your naked body. The sight of your bare body is breathtaking. Usopp would have a lovely and sweet time painting your curves. The softness of his touch and all his mesmerizing comments about how amazing you are, are quite adorable. His hands would be heavenly soft and he would have a glimmer of pride in his eyes because he's truly doing a great job. "Y/N… I need you so bad…" while watching at your exposed bare bottom. With your consent, sure, he would slide two fingers into you, moaning through gritted teeth. He would slide his hard cock between your ass cheeks until he cum. His seed would be on your back, thighs, almost everywhere. "Now, what a beautiful painting."

Law

CW : slight dirty talk, slight teasing, slight nipple play, slight choking

Law being... Law, he would not be very vocal about his thoughts. Like, you want to wear black clothes? Okay. A lot of piercings? Okay. You like horror movies? Fine. He has too much on his plate to care about that type of thing.

But he would be really curious about your tattoos. At first, he would stay silent because he is aloof. After some time, he would be happy to learn more about the meanings of your tattoos, if they have one. And if not, just how did you get the idea. There's a chance he'll talk about his own tattoos.

Law finds it difficult to communicate, so having something in common with him would make it easier. He is interested in discussing art with you, or even getting a tattoo with you. Law would love this date idea.

As a skilled doctor, he would be extremely attentive to the healing process. "Y/N-ya, don't forget your cream." all the day. He would leave a note if he's not around.

Putting make-up on his face is not an option. "I don't need make-up anyway, I already have dark circles under my eyes." He's not wrong in fact

Law would probably be uneasy with certain horror movies. Particularly if it can trigger his past trauma. If the plot is about sickness or people taking a bullet, he's not willing to watch it and even mad if you try to force him to.

If it's a random slasher or something paranormal, it’s okay. And he knows a number of movies. However, he would be extremely irritating. Like, pointing out all the incoherences and the jump cuts. Again, he's a doctor, so whenever there's a gore scene, he can't help but comment on it. "Ugh, it's so ridiculous, it doesn't look like this. You know that Y/N-ya, right? In fact, when people are killed like this, the organs are damaged... first, the..." Prepare yourself for a complete explanation during the movie. "The blood is unrealistic and the costumes are cheap, it's awful."

He's such a nerd.

Law probably shares your musical tastes, so perhaps he could create a playlist for you. Without any word, just like "Hey, listen to this Y/N-ya" before returning to his office.

NSFW

Piercings? Big yes. Nipple piercing? Total heaven. For hours, Law would suck and bite your nipples. Or pinch them. It's so intoxicating for him. "Your nipples are so damn hard, you like when I play with them?"

Law would be delighted to use a mirror when he plows into you from behind, as he loves your tattoos. The nice jiggle on your ass, all your tattoos wet with sweat, how you squirm and the expression of pure bliss on your face… "You're so beautiful when I'm fucking you" If you're wearing that kind of tight chain necklace, he would brutally pull on, enjoying how you're gagging. And as he buries your head against the pillow, he would love to watch the faded makeup on your face and the marks on the pillow. "You look cute when you bite the pillow." He would say, slapping your ass before continue to fuck you senseless.

And Law, as the teaser he is, would just love running his fingers along your tattooed skin for hours. Making you tremble with anticipation and desire. He would trace each line and curve from your neck to your ankles, avoiding all your sensitive areas. "You're already so turned on… for absolutely nothing. You need me so badly, y/n-ya? "

He loves your tattoos and he knows you love his. So while he fucks you, his tattooed fingers would be wrapped around your neck. "My fingers are quite a beautiful collar for you, don't you think? " With his favorite teasing grin. It's written " death " on them for a good reason, because you're here to discover what "a little death" means.

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archangeldyke-all · 3 months

Note

trans sevy getting her first blowjob ever from reader? feeling so confident, beautiful, and desired in her own skin because of the safe and genuine love her and reader have for each other 🥺

:,) i love her

men and minors dni

you wake up to your limbs tangled with sevika's.

you and your girlfriend fell asleep a few hours ago, naked and satisfied after a mid-afternoon romp. you have nowhere to be, so you indulge in the feeling of sevika's gentle snores against your throat.

you two have been trying to take things slow. you've only been having sex for a few weeks, but you've been going on dates two or three times a week, spending the night at each other's homes, and bickering like an old married couple for half a year now.

it's not like you weren't insanely attracted to each other upon meeting.

but you were able to see the walls she puts up to protect herself from a mile away, and you fell in love with the glimpses of the gentle woman behind them; so you decided to wait.

to wait until she felt comfortable enough to sleep on top of you like she is now, drooling a little on your shoulder; until she was relaxed enough to let you touch her gently and tell you what she likes; until she trusted you enough to let you see her naked, both physically and emotionally.

and it's been so fucking worth it.

you've never been in love like this before. you can't control the smile that comes to your face as your chest is flooded with affection for your girl, and you wrap your arms just a little tighter around her back, craning your neck to kiss the top of her head.

"hmph?" sevika asks.

"hey, sleepy head." you chuckle.

"hm. i'll give you some sleepy head." she jokes, cracking her eyes open to smile up at you.

you burst into laughter, squeezing her in a tight hug as she starts pressing chaste kisses over your chest.

"i wouldn't be opposed to that." you giggle. "wouldn't be opposed to givin' you some sleepy head either."

sevika freezes on top of you, and you have to hide your amused smile in her hair.

it breaks your heart a bit; the way sevika's so clearly never been loved properly before. it's humbling and empowering to be the first person to love her, and sometimes, it's also a little comical. she's just so easy to fluster.

"sev?" you whisper.

"uh..." she gulps, lifting her head up to blink down at you owlishly. "we've never done that before." she says.

"no, we haven't."

"do you... would you... i mean i don't want you to do anything you don't wan--"

"sevika." you cut her off, gently pressing your fingers to her lips. "i've been dreaming about tasting you since we met. i'd be fuckin' honored. but only if you're into it."

sevika gulps. you can see her hesitation and her arousal warring in her mind, her cock starting to stiffen against your hip. you just cup her face in your hands, peppering her with kisses and waiting for her response.

"d-do you know how?" she asks. you snort.

"i know the basics. lick, suck, slobber. teeth are a no-no."

sevika snorts a bit, her lower lip between her teeth as she considers your offer. you can tell she wants it, she's just struggling with saying it. so, you try speaking her language.

one gentle hand on her shoulder is all it takes to push her off of you and onto the mattress. you straddle her hips, hovering over her quickly hardening cock and grinning down at her as she ogles your tits swaying in her face.

you bend down, guiding one of sevika's hands to your tits, the other to your hips, before you press your lips to hers.

the tension in her body quickly melts, and she sighs in relaxation. her hands start moving up and down your body on their own accord, groping and clawing freely, taking her fill of you.

"lemme make you feel good sev, huh?" you ask. she gulps beneath you, trying to tug your hips down so you sit on her cock.

"i want you." sevika whines.

"well, i know that, baby. what part of me do you want? i'll give you anything... my tits... my hands... my cunt..." sevika gulps, waiting for you to mention your initial offer. you grin down at her, raising your eyebrow as she squirms.

"y-your mouth." she whispers.

you grin and swoop down to kiss your girlfriend. "good girl." you praise. sevika shivers underneath you at the words and you giggle, before you drop the teasing act and start kissing down her body. "gonna be good for me and use your words?" you ask, licking a ring around her belly button. sevika's abs twitch, and her cock twitches where it rests on her thigh.

"y-yes."

"good." you kiss her hip.

you start slow, not wanting to overwhelm her. you can tell she's equally excited and nervous, and you want her to melt into her pleasure and forget her worries.

you quickly blow into your palm, warming it just a bit before wrapping it around sevika's cock. she sighs sweetly as you start jerking her off.

you've never been so close to her cock before. usually, you're jerking her off under her pants on the couch, or quickly guiding her cock toward your cunt. you've never had a chance to study it like this before.

"shit, sev, your dick's so pretty." you huff. she laughs, a little self consciously, and you nip her thigh.

"can a cock be pretty?" she asks.

you nod. "when it looks like yours." she's already leaking pre into your hand, making the motions of your hands glide. uncircumsized, girthy, seven inches (according to sevika, though to you it feels a lot closer to nine)-- she's a work of art. "sev..." you mutter, hypnotized by the sight of her. "can i taste you, baby?"

she shudders. you reach up and grab her hands, lifting them both to your head so she can control the pace. "y-yes please."

you sigh, turning your head just a bit to kiss her wrist. "i love you, sevika." you remind her. she whimpers, and you smile at the sound.

"i love you, t--shit!" sevika gasps as you lick one long, solid stripe up her cock.

fuck. she's hot and firm under your tongue, you can feel her blood pulsing in her cock, and the taste of her is divine. salty, a little sweet, and entirely sevika. it's like burying your nose in her neck and inhaling, but so much better.

better, because above you, sevika's voice has risen two octaves, little squeaks and mewls escaping her as she twitches and squirms.

"f-fuck!" she whimpers. you grin, and then kiss the head of her dick.

"tell me what you like." you whisper.

sevika gulps. "i-i dunno." she whines. "i like your mouth."

you laugh, then kiss her dick again. "alright. we'll figure it out together. do you like this:" you lean forward and lick another long line up the underside of her cock. "or this?" you gently place her tip on your tongue, closing your lips around her and sucking, just a bit.

sevika nearly jumps off the bed when you get your lips around her. "that!" she gasps, her hands clawing at your scalp. "that, that, that!"

you hum a laugh around her, and her thigh starts to quiver uncontrollably around you.

when you pull away, a string of spit connects your lower lip to her cock. she collapses against the bed, groaning. "fuuuuuck."

you laugh. "this?" you duck down, nuzzling your face against her wet cock, drunk enough on the sounds of her pleasure to disregard the sticky wetness spreading on your cheeks and eyelashes. "or this?" you nuzzle the tip of your nose at the base of her cock, right above her balls.

your hot breath on her balls makes her squeal in laughter as she tries to grind against your face. "b-both!" she giggles.

you grin at the sound, and kiss the base of her cock. "mmm, good to know." you duck down just a little further. "this?" you mouth at her balls, her pubes tickling your face. when you lick your tongue out, sevika's cock jumps so hard you think she's about to cum. she doesn't-- but a little stream of pre drips down her dick tantalizingly. fuck, you can't wait to taste her cum.

"or this?" you ask. you've been doing a lot of sex research, scrolling through lgbt forums and blogs while fantasizing about your girlfriend, trying to learn how to make her feel good. you've read that she might like it when you start licking and nuzzling against the soft skin under her balls, but you were skeptical.

you had no fucking reason to be skeptical.

the second you push your mouth against the soft, fuzzy skin under her balls, sevika gasps, scrambling to sit up and pushing your face away from her.

"w-what happened, you okay!?" you ask, panicked and worried about your gasping girlfriend.

she's staring at you with big, sparkling eyes, a wide goofy smile on her face. "i-i didn't wanna cum in your hair." she whispers with a giggle.

you grin. "you're so fuckin' sweet." you sigh, kissing sevika's thigh. "now cum down my throat."

sevika growls when you take her down your mouth as deep as you can.

you only manage to get about half her cock down. still, she doesn't seem to care.

"shit, baby, fuck, your mouth's so fuckin' perfect, oh my god, i love you so much, shit, shit, i love you baby, i love you, t-thank you, i-- b-baby i'm gonna cum!" she cries.

you hum and nod around her, blinking up at her as you do.

the second your eyes meet, sevika starts shooting ropes of hot cum down your throat.

you sputter a little, pulling back to make enough room for her load but not letting go of the tip of her cock, sucking her dry as she whimpers and cries into the back of her hand.

it's only when she starts to weakly shoo you away with her hand that you pull off of her cock.

she blinks down at you and you smirk, sticking your tongue out to show her how she's filled your mouth before swallowing it with a pleased hum.

sevika groans, then gently smacks you with a throw pillow.

"this is gonna be a huge fuckin' problem." she whispers.

your stomach sinks again. "what? why?" you ask, crawling up her body to hover over her.

she blinks up at you shyly, and your concern melts. she's flustered, not uncomfortable, and you allow a cocky smirk to spread on your lips. "'cause i don't think 'm gonna be thinkin' about anything besides getting my dick in your mouth for the rest of my life!" she whines.

you burst into laughter and collapse on top of your girlfriend, nuzzling against her neck and kissing her intermittently. "you said the same thing the first time we fucked, babe." you laugh.

sevika just huffs beneath you, hiding her blush from you by tucking her face down to kiss the top of your head.

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#sevika #sevika imagine #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #soft sevika #sevika smut

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st4rfckerz · 9 months

Text

early present | anakin skywalker x reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: MDNI 18+, fluff, unprotected sex, breeding kink, creampie, praise, anakin's a cutie pie

summary: anakin comes home after work with a little surprise.

a/n: MERRY CHRISTMAS AND OTHER HOLIDAYS!!!! i'd be lying if i said this didn't come to me while listening to stargirl interlude but anyways enjoy you filthy animals.

it’s sunday evening and you’ve just finished cooking a large dinner and the dishwasher is running as you’re waiting for your husband, anakin, to get home. the twins were staying at their grandparents' house since its the weekend, leaving you and anakin alone for a few days. you were looking forward to spending time together without any distractions.

the house is quiet and peaceful with the exception of the running dishwasher and the music playing through a little radio you have propped up on the window sill. you hummed softly to yourself as you stood at the kitchen sink, washing the dishes after cooking a delicious dinner. the scent of the freshly cooked meal cooling on the stovetop still lingered in the air, making your stomach growl with anticipation. as you rinsed the foam off the plates, you glanced at the clock on the wall and realized he should be arriving any minute now.

you had decided to wear a green floral dress, hoping to look nice for anakin. the dress was fitted to your body, and you could feel the silk caress your skin as you moved. it was simple but elegant, and you felt good in the dress.

this year, you and anakin had agreed on would spending your money on christmas gifts for the twins instead of each other. there was a mutual understanding that neither of you would be getting each other presents. you had planned to stay true to your word, but it was really difficult to shop without purchasing anything for anakin. so, you secretly bought him a new watch, wrapped it carefully and hid it in your nightstand. it was just a small surprise, but you hoped it would make him happy anyway.

lost in your own thoughts, you didn't hear the front door creak open or the familiar sound of anakin's footsteps approaching from behind. it wasn't until you felt warm hands wrapping around my waist that you jolted in surprise.

"what are you doing!" you hastily turned around at the sound of anakin's booming voice. a small yelp escaped your lips and your hand flew to you chest as you tried to steady your racing heart. you eyes widened in surprise as you met his gaze, only to see the mischievous smile on his face and hear his laughter fill the kitchen. he was thoroughly enjoying the reaction he had elicited from you.

"very funny anakin." you smile and roll your eyes. you turn back around to resume doing dishes, and anakin wraps his arms around your waist and rests his chin on your shoulder.

"i'm sorry," anakin chuckles, you can feel his breath on your neck and his chest pressed against your back. his hands are holding you closely, their warmth spreading through your body. it's a cozy moment of closeness and affection. even though you're not doing dishes well with him wrapped around you, you're enjoying it anyway.

"you look really good today," he complimented, his voice filled with sincerity and genuine appreciation. "you smell good too, you're wearing my favorite." anakin takes a comically large whiff of your neck.

"ani stop, that tickles." you giggle. the warm vanilla scent is intoxicating, and he can't resist. anakin gives you a lingering kiss on your jaw, still keeping his arms around your waist to keep you close.

"ok ok, i'll behave," anakin pauses, his lips still pressed against your neck, to let out a breath. "i got you somethin'," he whispers quietly. anakin lifts a long rectangular box from his pocket and holds it up in front of you. the gift is wrapped in sparkly green and red wrapping paper, adorned with a simple white ribbon. you are filled with anticipation as you stare at the box.

you turn around to meet his playful gaze again. "ani, you didn't have to get me anything." you explain to him.

"you don't even know what it is," anakin replies with a small smirk. "look, i know you said we weren't getting each other gifts, but i just thought this would be nice." ye holds the gift out to you and you take it in your hands. the wrapping is thin, and you can already hear the rustling of paper inside the box. anakin can't keep the grin off his face, as if he's dying to see your reaction to the gift.

you gingerly take the wrapped gift from anakin, slowly peeling back the thin layer of wrapping paper. your eyes widen when you see the gold plated necklace, with a striking "A" initial. it's delicate but vibrant, and the gold plating gives it a subtle touch of elegance. anakin is watching you patiently, his eyes glimmering with pride. ye leans forward eagerly, wanting to see your reaction to the present he chose for you.

"do you like it?" he asks softly. anakin folds his hands behind his back, holding back a smile as he waits for your answer. he keeps a close eye for any hint of disappointment or hesitation in your face, feeling uneasy. he wants this to be a nice surprise.

you nod slowly as you trace the initials with your fingers. the gold is so bright and shiny that you can almost see your reflection in it. "i love it, thank you." you tell him with a smile. anakin's expression is one of pride, and the look on his face tells you that he is happy that you like his gift.

"here, turn around." anakin pulls the necklace from the delicate, little box and puts the necklace around your neck. his fingers linger on your skin as he pulls the chain just tight enough so that the pendant sits above your collarbone. as anakin finishes fixing your necklace, he lifts your chin up to meet his eyes. you can't help the swarm of butterflies in your stomach as his thumb softly grazes against your cheekbone. his deep blue eyes are intense and his face is inches away from yours. you can feel the heat from his body radiating on your skin and it sends a shiver down your spine. anakin's gaze is unwavering and his eyes are locked on yours. he can't help but admire how the necklace highlights your best features and brings out your true beauty.

"so beautiful." anakin whispers before planting a kiss to your lips. the sensation is soft and sweet, like honey. like always, you can feel the spark between the two of you when your lips meet. anakin's hands slide down to your neck, tracing the edge of your collar bone where the necklace sits. anakin pulls you closer, his lips never leaving yours, and his fingers start to roam down your back.

the kiss becomes more heated as anakin starts backing you up against the counter. his lips are greedy, demanding more and more from you. anakin pulls you closer to him, pressing your body tightly against his. the kiss becomes even more heated and anakin's grip on you tightens. the kiss becomes heavier, almost desperate. anakin's hands move to your waist and his grip on you squeezes tightly, like he never wants to let go. his breath is warm as his tongue glides across your lips. you part your lips to grant him access, inviting his tongue to dance with yours. your soft moans reverberate through the air as anakin’s hands tenderly caress your waist, his touch sending sparks of electricity down your spine.

"my girl. mine." anakin's voice is deep and husky, and his words fall like velvet on your ears. he moans softly as he presses his tongue deeper into your mouth, his lips and body pressed deeply against yours. you can almost taste the desperation behind his words, like he is trying to pull you closer and never let go. you feel arousal shoot down to your core as anakin's words hit you in the right place. the feeling is all-encompassing, like a tide rushing towards you, and it's overwhelming in a very good way. your breath is fast and shallow, and you can't help but let out a moan.

"ani, i need you." you speak in between sloppy kisses, the words coming out hot and desperate. the ache that settled in your center was becoming unbearable, you needed something, you needed him.

"i know angel." anakin sighs. the words sent a shiver down your spine and you can feel the heat rising within you. your heart was pounding in your chest, your breath catching in your throat. anakin's hands glide down your back, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake, before firmly settling on your hips. with a sudden surge of strength, anakin spins you around, pushing your body against the cold surface of the kitchen counter. he cups your ass, squeezing it with a possessive grip. anakin's firm grasp then captures the edges of your dress, lifting it up and over the curve of your ass. a low growl escapes his throat once he notices the white lacy panties you decided to wear.

"oh sweetheart, s'this for me?" anakin coos sweetly. he revels in the sight of you, his eyes locked on the alluring contrast of the white lace against your warm flesh. anakin's gaze lingers on the wet spot that adorns the fabric of your panties. the moisture seeps through, leaving a damp and slick sensation against your skin. you nod shyly, a faint blush creeps across your cheeks.

anakin's fingers delicately curl around the waistband of your soaked panties. with a gentle tug, he starts to peel them down, revealing your glossy folds. the cool air caresses your aching cunt, sending an electrifying shiver up your spine.

feeling the heat and urgency of the moment, anakin unbuckles his pants, allowing them to pool at his feet. his engorged cock springs free, standing tall and proud in all its glory. your eyes are drawn to the sight before you, captivated by the throbbing length and girth that anakin possesses.

anakin's hand moves with practiced ease along his pulsating shaft, pumping it a few times, a low groan escapes his lips.

anakin's movements grow more deliberate as he uses his hand to guide the tip of his member along your slick folds, spreading your wetness and teasingly grazing against your sensitive bundle of nerves.

"you're driving me crazy." anakin grits. he aligns his pulsating member with your slick entrance, and with a steady, controlled thrust, he sinks deep inside you. the instant connection of your bodies shatters any remaining restraint, eliciting a gasp of pleasure from both of you. the feeling of fullness envelops you, stretching you deliciously to accommodate his girth. it's a perfect union, as if your bodies were made to fit together like pieces of a puzzle.

your body quivers as the sensations intensify, your arms reaching out in front of you, instinctively grasping at the smooth surface of the countertop. your fingers dig into the material, desperate for something to ground you amidst the overwhelming ecstasy that fills every fiber of your being. you arch your back and let out strings of sweet moans that echo through the room.

"look at you, my pretty little wife dressing up for me," anakin adjusts his angle slightly, aiming to hit that special spot that drives you wild. "i've been thinkin' about you all day angel, jus' the thought of you makes me hard." his words, a sultry murmur in your ear, ignite a fire within you. your body instinctively responds, your walls contracting around him, gripping him in a vice-like embrace. anakin lets out a deep, hoarse moan, the sensation of your gummy walls pushing him to the brink of his own release.

"ani m'close, so close," words tumble from your lips in a breathless babble as you seek to convey the urgency that pulses through your veins.

anakin's voice is shaky and needy, a torrent of words pouring forth from his lips. "angel," he moans, his voice breathless, "i want - i want to put another baby in you. let me fill you up, can i please..." his breath comes in ragged gasps, matching the intensity of his thrusts, as he confesses his own impending climax. a quiet "yes" escapes your lips and your body quivers beneath his forceful thrusts. anakin's breath hitches, an audible groan escaping his lips as your fervent request reaches his ears.

a blinding wave of relief overtakes you as your climax hits, leaving you feeling all warm and fuzzy. you can feel the pulsating warmth as anakin spills himself within you, filling you up completely with his hot cum.

anakin takes a second before carefully withdrawing himself from your tired cunt, you can hear his belt buckle clinking around as he fixes his pants. he trails feather-light kisses along your shoulders, peppering your skin with affectionate adoration.

"stay still," anakin leans down slightly to inspect your pulsating pussy. his gaze roams over your sticky folds, admiring the flushed hue that tells of your arousal. anakin traces the length of your entrance, teasingly circling the rim before slowly slipping inside to push his cum further into you.

"such a pretty pussy." he whispers. anakin's fingers delicately slide your panties back up before tugging your dress back into place, a tender affection resonates in his touch. his hands settle on your waist, his gaze filled with adoration as he turns you around to face him. the intensity in his eyes is evident as he surveys your flushed and satiated form. a satisfied smile curves his lips as he takes in the sight of you, his fingers trailing gently along your jawline. anakin leans in, capturing your lips in a soft, lingering kiss.

in the midst of the tender kiss, you feel a surge of excitement bubbling within you. the realization that you have a surprise gift for anakin cannot be contained, and you gently pull away from the kiss, a spark of eagerness illuminating your eyes.

"i got you something too." you beam. anakin's lips curve into a playful smile, his eyes mirroring your enthusiasm.

"it can wait," he says, his tone filled with a commanding edge that sends shivers down your spine. "right now, i want to see you on the bed, wearing nothing but your necklace." his voice grows husky as he speaks. you press a final, lingering kiss to anakin's lips, a sneaky smile dances across your face. with a playful sway of your hips, you turn to leave the room, but just as you begin to walk away, a sharp and satisfying sting resonates across your ass, making you let out a small yelp. you can hear anakin's footsteps approach from behind, a flutter of nervousness tickles your senses.

anakin had you in the palm of his hands and he had no intention of letting you go soon.

#nai writes ୨୧ #anakin fluff #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin #hayden christensen #hayden christensen x reader #st4rfckerz

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rizsu · 1 year

Text

let me in ( please ) manjiro, ran.

sum. when they fuck up & now are locked out of the house

mikey and emotions do not mix well. they're like oil and water. mikey is a victim to various emotions he has no knowledge on how to handle. you can think of him as a baby who has no idea how to express different emotions so they start crying. and just like that, he said his piece of rather colorful words and left before it got worse.

it takes nothing but a simple stroll around the area and some icecream bars to cool mikey's head. during his little freedom, he did some intense self-reflection and replayed the argument to analyze. three minutes of sitting on the park's bench and he came to the conclusion that he was in fact wrong. he one hundred percent overreacted.

all for his own defense, he thinks that it can be justified. crossing his arms over his chest, mikey nods in agreement to the imaginary audience. they too agree that it can be justified! even if it was but a stupid moment of him letting his negativity roam in his mind and became insecure.

mikey walks towards the door, crunching every leaf in the way to calm his nerves. he's spent at least twenty minutes practicing his apology speech. he cannot afford to butcher it. gripping on the door's knob, he tries to unlock it but to no avail, it did not work. this cannot be real, he amuses himself. mikey gives it another try. maybe it was just a jam in the knob? no. he gave it two more restless twists but god's grace was not on his side today.

“where is my phone?!” he's confused. he swore he shoved his phone into his pocket but it's not there!? patting his torso and sweatpants to feel for phone's frame, panic's tide rises in his body. he's half a second away from running into the middle of the road.

and on your side, you're watching this go down through the door's peephole. right now you may or may not be holding the very phone he's looking for in your hand. trust, you would grant him access to your shared home but this is too hilarious to give up.

the click of the door's lock on your side succeeds in getting mikey's attention. he watches like a hawk marking its prey's home, waiting to see if what he wants is behind the other side. biting at his lower lip's skin, mikey patiently awaits for you to come into display.

you swing the door open and lean on its frame. swaying his phone in front of him, you tease, “looking for this?”

mikey, relieved, tries to grab what's rightfully his but fails. there's no way you're going to give him this so soon.

“not so fast, manjiro. aren't you forgetting something?”

mikey takes three cartoonish blinks. he genuinely does not know what he forgot. tilting his head to the side, he looks around trying to remember what he could've possibly forgotten. oh right, the apology!

“'m really sorry. forgive me i know i acted like an idiot.” he speaks. mikey hopes you can tell he's being sincere. he's not one for apologies at all—which is easily known by his body language. he's rocking back and forth on his feet while playing with his fingers—almost replica to a child getting scolded for eating all the chocolates.

you try your hardest to not cackle. being able to witness the ‘invincible’ mikey awkwardly apologize feels like a gift from your ancestors. it may as well replace the definition of neuron activity.

“you're lucky i love you. come in.” tilting your head, you gesture for him to enter paradise. you didn't miss the way he clasped his fist whispering a “yes!” to himself. you really do love this loser.

pop-up quiz: if you lock ran out the house, would he:

a) go buy gifts to appease you.

b) demand that you open the door.

c) fight the tears and travel to rindou's to clear his mind.

d) none of the above.

correct answer? d) none of the above. see, if you dare to think you can get rid of ran you are just loud and wrong. you can't rip ran off of your skin even if you got the creator of earth to do it. he's like a flee.

he's a little on the lazy side which results in him barely caring for anything which also results in his nonchalant attitude in arguments. what happens when he just says to calm down? getting locked out until further notice. do not let this fool you, ran will, by any means necessary, make sure that you're not mad at him—even if he must guilt you in the process. ran can live alone but he's grown too attached to let you slip through his fingers.

like the fool he is, ran came up with the master idea of staying in the courtyard as he sets up his scheme. he has a plan, he just needs a platform. feeling mischievous, ran waited until four in the evening to begin his performance. dailing your number, he waits for you to pick up. the moment you do, he reads the script written on his palm.

“hey...still mad at me?” “yes. goodbye.” “WAIT—i'm sorry, unlock the door please?”

a moment of silence alongside a heavy sigh from you tells ran that chapter one: act one was successful. reeling out the hose, he quickly attaches it to the pipe before turning it on. taking large steps to the front door, he hides the hose behind the door as you open it.

“missed you. i'm shivering, would let me in?” coating his words with honey, he plasters a pleading look on his face. surely this would work..right..? yeah, no. you feel your anger bubbling again. for what and why would he bother you with this nonsense.

“what the fuck are you talking about? the sun is very much there.” you point towards the sun, completely finished with this idiocy.

“no, baby...it's not...” raising the hand that's holding the hose, ran turns the sprinkler effect on as he frowns. him suffering out in the real (fake) rain must hurt you. you know how he easily gets sick.

well, that's what he thinks. you think this is absolutely stupid. the scenario of ran, standing under the hose as it soaks him while the sun has yet to set truly makes for a good spongebob episode.

“ran, put it off. now.” demanding that he finishes his act, you publically judge him. although this is so stupid that it's hilarious, you don't want him to flood out the entire front yard. he's done enough to be let in the house.

“but do you forgive me, my love?” “RAN.”

ran chuckles to himself. chapter two: act two has been successful. dragging the hose back to its original position, he cleans up before entering your home but ran still feels mischievous. so what does he do? purposefully give you a tight back hug so that you can be soaked too but masks it with the excuse of “i really missed you.”

when ran isn't practically decomposing in bed, he's the most childish man ever.

#. ae-generated: tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers x reader #manjiro sano x reader #mikey x reader #mikey fluff #ran haitani x reader #ran x reader #ran fluff #mikey x you #ran x you #tokrev x you #tokyo revengers fluff #tokrev drabbles

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goldustwomun · 6 months

Text

pacifier (s.b.)

pairing: sirius black x younger potter! reader

summary: something about your relationship with sirius black had never sit quite right with you, and now that he's back after two years of travelling the world, you're beginning to think that you'll soon find out what'll happens if the two of you finally fall over the edge of whatever precipice you've been teetering close to all these years. anyway, you've got to work with him all summer, so what's the worst that could happen?

warnings: allusions to sex (minors dni!!!), swearing, cocky sirius and like kind of an annoying younger sister reader (but also that's literally me lol), bad transitions between light hearted banter and angst but i'm trying my best RIP, i imagine sirius to be mid-20s and reader only 3/4 years younger (but everyone is OF AGE), mommy issues if you squint

wc: 4.9k+

note: soooo i'm back :D again :D i'm almost done with second year and actually somewhat ahead with all my papers (with very minimal finals; def recommend being a history major x) and i've just been missing the community so enjoy this! i had this first chapter posted a while back (like maybe a year) but it was actually ass so i've redone it a little :)))) as always, reblogs and comments are MUCH appreciated and i can't wait to interact w/ y'all over this because i have been DAYDREAMING about brother's bf sirius :')

Oh but, babe, you know I've tried and failed But you just don't know how it feels To lose something you never have and never will

“What do you mean he’s working at the shop as well?!” you all but screeched, chasing your Mother around the kitchen, feeling a lot like the pesky youngest child you were.

“He needs some help so we offered to give him a job. Honestly sweetheart, aren’t you too old for this childish feud?”

“Too old? Shouldn’t you be saying that to him? He’s like– thirty or something, and still continues to be the bane of my existence. Fucking Bla–”

Your Mother whirled on you abruptly, brandishing the wooden spoon she was about to stir the boiling pot with right in your face.

“Oi, language! I would tell him the same but unluckily for you, you’re my daughter and currently living under my roof, so you get to hear it first.” She gave you a saccharine sweet smile, the kind that had you biting back the urge to roll your eyes.

“--now, he’s been gone for such a long time, and we’re all very excited to see him, so don’t ruin this reunion with any more of your tantrums.”

You opened your mouth once more, intent on not letting the argument die there, but your Father bounded into the kitchen at the same moment, ruffling up your hair with a “Hey there, kiddo,” before promptly moving on to snake his hands around your Mother’s waist.

“Looking as beautiful as always, my dear,” he cooed into her ear. She let out an uncharacteristic giggle that had you bolting from the kitchen before you were scarred any further.

Your parents’ tooth-aching affections for each other was just that: sweet, but sickly all the same.

Somewhere inside of you, in between the urge for unattainable perfection and the fear of failure, you yearned for a love like theirs. Something genuine but passionate, able to withstand the test of time.

James, your older brother, had found it with Lily, and their son Harry being a product of their young but no less intense love.

You loved that kid like he was your own. Would beg James to let you come over, play with the babbling toddler for a few hours, even going as far as to offer up your weekends, encouraging the young couple to “go out, live a little!”. But they were about as infatuated with their own child as you were, and had a never-ending supply of friends who were equally as eager to help out.

And one of those always eager friends was currently pounding his stupid fist against your stupid front door, and you were already riled up from the news your mother had broken to you only moments earlier, head pounding and fists balled into shaking fists, that you couldn’t take seeing his face quite literally in front of you, as well.

You shoved past James, knocking him back a step as his hand reached for the door to let his best mate in. You caught a glimpse of him on the doorstep, the first in almost two years– hair unruly like he’d just rolled out of bed, long, black strands; newly tanned skin blushing under the heat of the sun; those thick, brooding eyebrows that raised up in your direction – eughh.

“What’s got your knickers in a bunch?” James called at your retreating figure, shouting loud enough to be heard over your heavy footsteps despite the carpeted floor.

“Ask your best mate over there!” you answered back with a bite, slamming your room door shut.

“Fuck,” he sighed, defeated, yanking his confused friend in and a chucking a thumb towards the stairs. “How’ve you managed to piss her off before you even got here?” he asked incredulously. “Peace– we had peace in this house for the past two years since you’ve been off, and now look–! It’s a bloody riot!”

“Oi– I’ve done nothing,” he moaned indignantly, hanging his coat and scarf on the gold-crested hooks by the door. “--I think,” he added for good measure after a beat. "I mean, I've only just stepped inside."

Sirius had yet to quite grasp why you got under his skin so quick, squirming between his nerves like a misfired electrical impulse.

You’d grown up together, spent every waking moment in each other’s presence when he was at the Potter residence (which happened to be just about always given his own family situation). If books and movies were to be trusted, what with fiction being so reminiscent of real-life, he'd have expected be like some sort of brotherly figure to you.

But even the thought of it had bile creeping up his through, as if it was so unfathomably wrong his body refused to entertain the possibility of it.

So no. Something about you and your irritatingly know-it-all personality, shrill when indignant voice (which was rather often around him), your need to always be right – something about you brought the worse out of him.

Had him constantly searching for something new to point out, to irritate you all over again, hit the nail on your specific head - something to really push you that little bit over the edge.

It wasn't even like he enjoyed it, watching you get all huffy, nostrils flared, brows knitted together, face verging on a flushed red. Sirisu was well aware that with every jab the two of you threw at each other, things got a little more out of hand.

Right before he had left, two years journeying through the glades of Scotland, then France, Greece, Türkiye, India, Taiwan (he'd been close to everywhere), he had made the mistake of aiming a particularly ruthless dig at you, and watching your face crumple, devastated and defeated, it had finally cracked him inside.

But there wasn't anything he could do about it then, what with leaving the next day, and two years later, it seemed a little too late.

The rest of the Potter family didn’t share your sentiments about Sirius, and rather adored him immeasurably. Had since he’d taken to hiding out in their house after a particularly brutal fight at home when he was only eleven. Heck, he’d even attended every Potter-family gathering, dinner, birthday, you name it, since then. It was why he came over every Sunday for a roast, pudding and some chat – he could never put into words what your family had done for him, the safety, security, home, even, they'd given him when he’d been lost and entirely clueless of what a real family looked like.

So he made the thirty-minute drive, every Sunday, much to your irritation. He plastered on the biggest smile for your Mum, complimenting every minute detail of the meal she cooked for the family, drank a glass of whiskey and smoked a cigar with your Dad; he was even Harry’s favourite, always humming quiet melodies into the youngest Potter’s ear.

With him away, he’d missed out on the family time he usually looked forward to every weekend. Mondays seemed a lot less dreadful after having a belly-full of Mrs Potter’s food.

Still, he’d sent postcards and printed pictures of everywhere he went, the sights he’d seen, people he’d met. It wasn’t the same, not without the lot of you to pester him but he’d needed some time to find himself.

He still wasn’t sure if he’d found what he was looking for, but the money had to have run out eventually so he was back home, ready to work and settle down in his life for once after graduating Hogwarts.

Sirius followed James into the living room where he found Lily, sipping on a glass of red, sitting by the empty fireplace. Instead, a window had been cracked in to let the temperate wind in.

She perked up as they entered, waving with that soul-wrenching smile of hers that could persuade even the most strong-willed of men into submission.

“Pads, you’re back!” she called from her seat. "And you've grown a moustache-- interesting choice of facial hair." Sirius, however, raised an eyebrow at her questioningly, ignoring her greeting-slash-judgement as he peered into the empty crib by her side, even going as far as to search under it as if the toddler might have escaped.

“Harry’s gone to bed in the guest room. There was a bit of a shouting match before you arrived,” James explained, sinking into the space beside his wife and pulling her into his side. “Actually, now that I think about it, there was a lot of shouting after you arrived as well.”

Lily snorted, snuggling into her husband without hesitation, and Sirius couldn’t help but avert his eyes, feeling entirely like he was imposing on an intimate moment as the two of them whispered in the other’s ear.

“Well, don’t mind me. Sitting here, all by my lonesome, no company or polite chatter to partake in, not even my dashing God son to entertain me” he sighed, dramatically, to no one in particular. James rolled his eyes at his best friend’s antics, chucking a frilly throw-pillow at his face (that’s what they’re for, right?) which he just as easily caught.

“Har-Har! Ever the clown, Paddy,” James mocked, flipping him off just in time for his Mum to walk in and see.

“James! Don’t aim such crude displays at my son,” she scolded, wrapping her wrinkled arms around Sirius’ shoulders from behind his chair. She leaned down, kissing the top of his head affectionately. Sirius only whimpered in agreement, leaning into her motherly touch and whining on and on about how James was being a right bully.

“My sweet child, I’ve missed you!” She beamed down at him, and that longing Sirius sometimes felt for his own Mother’s approval, her devotion or fondness, it lessened.

“But you didn’t– He was just!-- You missed– arghh!” James groaned defeatedly, head flailed back to rest against the sofa, receiving no sympathies from his giggling wife and glaring Mother. “I’m starting to understand why she hates you.”

Sirius’ eyes flashed at that– did you really hate him? Had it gotten to that point?

At the mention of your name but current absence, Mrs Potter ordered, “Go call your sister for dinner, I’ve set the table.”

He began to protest, failing to come up with a half-decent reason why he can’t walk up the two flights of stairs and pull your petulant frame from your bed– but Sirius interrupted in time, before James could make any more of a fool himself in front of his own Mother.

“I’ll go get her. Got to figure out what I did this time,” he offered coolly.

Euphemia, that is, Mrs Potter, had a strict no-apparting rule in her house, had lost too many expensive vases from James and Sirius’ apparition-sprees the second they’d turned seventeen.

You already had your licence, having been of legal age for some time, and had, since graduating (top of the class, as you tended to point out, much to your Ravenclaw friends’ dismay) from Hogwarts, found a job at a school in the muggle world, teaching children English Literature in preparation of some exam -- O Levels, you’d called them.

Sirius thought it to be some sort of torture device - these O Levels – but you’d smacked him across the head in admonishment with whatever book was in your hand before he could say much else. Having a family-run bookshop made it so that the books, or the weapons (in Sirius' mind at least), were in endless supply for you.

Your love for reading had come from him, your Father, from when he’d stay up till the late hours of the night, hushed whispers under your bed sheet so your Mother wouldn’t hear, as he read you the Classics in animated voices that had you completely enchanted. He made sparks fly from the tip of his wand, bright colours that your little eyes couldn’t quite get enough of.

You loved being a wizard, were eternally grateful for the world you lived in and the undeniable awe of it all. But words, books, literature – they were enough magic for you, took you to places you could only ever dream to visit, and had you feeling such all-consuming emotions that sometimes, you wondered if you’d ever make it to the end of the page, or chapter, or book.

“Oi– your Mum’s put out dinner, she’s calling you downstairs,” he called through the thick wood of your door.

Sirius didn’t know why he such an uneasy feeling settled into the pit of his stomach, like he'd swallowed some moldy bread or a particularly strong cider.

He's known you your whole life, watched you graduate from pencil to quill, and then again from Hogwarts.

Two years was a long a time, and the thought of you holding what he had said all those months ago -- what he hadn't meant, not really -- he was dreading the confrontation.

He nudged the door open when you didn’t respond, only to find you slumped across your bed, glaring, silently, at the ceiling and the pale-orange ring of light from the lamp on your bedside table.

You certainly looked different– older, possibly? He couldn’t quite place what had changed, only that he knew something had. In the way you dressed, styled your hair, held yourself. Even the look of your room– no longer plastered in repeated patterns of owls and roses, but instead a single wall painted a burnt umber and with the remaining covered in tapestries and muggle band posters hanging across every wall.

A stack of vinyls were shoved into one side of your room, along with stacks of books, some old and missing a few pages, while others were untouched.

You heard the door click open, sitting up on your elbows to see a Sirius, oozing an annoying amount of effortless confidence, and leaning against your doorframe.

Something in your chest stumbled almost immediately. He looked the same as the day he'd scolded you before leaving, and those stupid, brown eyes of his, like murky swamps you wouldn't be caught dead looking into, were training on you.

Though, he might’ve managed to actually tan, now that you really looked at him, imagining the broad planes of his shoulders, hidden by a thin linen button up, were more sun-kissed than milky-pale now.

Except you refused to even entertain the thought. You were not thinking of him or his skin or his bare chest or--

“What’s with your face?” you asked, already knowing you'd regret the answer.

“Was that meant to be a greeting?” His eyebrow raised in amusement.

“Hi Sirius-- what’s with your face?” you answered, again, between clenched teeth.

“You changed your room,” was his only response, and really, what did he expect to say to that?

"I did. Figured I'd use your absence wisely," you snarked back, meeting his gaze as you continued, "--you know, finally grow up and all that."

And you hadn't forgotten, but he didn't blame you.

You got up at his lack of silence, walking the few steps up to him, head tilted like a cat, wary of her surroundings but curious nonetheless.

"Was there something you wanted, Sirius?"

And fuck if the way you said his name didn't have him fighting whatever foreign feeling, urge, instinct was shouting at him in that moment.

You walked past, trembling as your shoulders touched, making it all the way to the bottom of the stairs before you had your moment of revelation as well.

Somehow, whether it had been a slow process over his two-year absence or something far more sudden in the past few minutes, he'd wormed his way back between the cracks of your heart, and this time, you worried you wouldn't survive.

The quiet jingle of the bell tickled your ears as you opened the door to the bookshop, dust immediately invading your senses as you fought back a harsh cough.

Your Dad pushed in front of you, forcing the door to stay open by propping a stack of intimidatingly large books in front of it. You laughed silently to yourself, noting how they were all Dickens (he hated Dickens, said his novels were disturbingly boring and unnecessarily detailed).

“So, you can dust a little, and sweep the floor, before we open. Count the money in the till, as well, that’s very important,” he noted off, and you suddenly wished you had a pen and a pad of paper to write it all down.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t been helping out at the shop since when you were younger, but this was the first time you’d been granted the responsibility of having it all to yourself (minus the inconvenience that was Sirius Black).

You were deemed an adult now – loved to point it out any chance you got, and that meant that your Dad trusted you enough to not hover over your shoulder every time you took a shift. He was working fewer hours, though now, none, as he wanted to finish the novel he’d been writing for the past decade after melodramatically announcing at the dinner table that “It’s time!”

You weren’t sure what that exactly meant, but you weren’t about to argue with the man paying you an overly generous ten pounds an hour.

You didn’t need the money for yourself, what with still living at your parent’s house, but you wanted to contribute to the house and expenses and what not, even if it was a minuscule sum.

“Another thing,” he added, stopping, rather abruptly, in front of you, voice worryingly grave as he placed his large palms over either of your shoulders. “Please,” he begged, brows dipping, “don’t fight with Sirius in front of the customers.”

“I haven’t even done anything and you’re already after me,” you objected, pulling back from his usually comforting hold and pulling the broom out from behind the counter. His hands fell defeatedly against his sides as he sighed, standing in your way before you could mope yourself into a tizzy before the work day had even started.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he ensured, pulling you into his tight embrace once more. “You know you’re my number one, sweetheart. Just don’t like seeing you so upset.”

James always teased you for being your Father’s favourite, and you’d never argue, relishing in his pointed fingers and sneering words, because it was true– there was something between you and your Father, an understanding that no one else had clued in on.

He eased your worries like no one else could, smoothed irked creases across your face, replacing them with belly-hurting laughter lines and a grin so wide, you were worried it would fall off your face.

Anyway, James was the same with your Mum. You found her difficult to communicate with, what with her being as hot-heated as you were, so as much as you and your Dad got along, you butted heads with your Mum just as much.

“It’s ‘cause you two are so similar, like twins, I tell you!” But it did little to calm your nerves around her, or stoke the flames of anger you so often felt.

You were about to respond, ready to tell your Dad just how much you loved him, when someone crashed through the door, slamming into the counter you were standing behind. You turned, eyes connecting with your (late) colleague. He looked utterly windswept, as if he’d run – or been chased – the whole way there.

“You okay, son?” your Dad asked, worry shifting from you to the panting, bent-over Sirius.

“Me? Oh– peachy, just– peachy,” he answered between heavy breaths, waving off his doting hands. “Sorry I’m late, got a little carried away with something and lost track of time.”

You were conscious of how your Dad didn’t offer Sirius the same advice, to not pick a fight or argue or whatever it was the two of you did, and you couldn’t help but roll your eyes at how he had everyone charmed.

So you busied yourself behind the till, doing as you were instructed and counting the money, writing down the number of each of the bills on a notepad you pulled from the drawer at your waist.

Your Dad left soon after, turning the closed sign out front to open as he wished you, and Sirius, good luck.

“Guess it’s just the two of us, little Potter,” Sirius pointed out, already sounding bored as he fell into a stool at your side. He leaned his head against his arm, stretching it from side to side as he groaned at his tense muscles.

You didn’t mean to stare, swore it wasn’t something you’d let become a habit, but your gaze immediately travelled to the exposed skin of his neck, zeroing in on the trail of newly-formed purple bruises down the side.

You snorted, shaking your head at him, slamming the money compartment shut a little too aggressively so that it caught Sirius’ attention. He recognised your expression to be something close to amusement, jabbing you in your side until you were scowling and slapping his fingers away.

“What’s wrong with you– you’re acting like a fucking child,” you admonished, moving out of reach and resting a hand on your hip.

“Why’d you make that face?” he asked instead of answering your question, nodding at you like it was you who had started it.

“It’s nothing,” you went with, hearing your Father’s words echoing in your mind from just moments ago. You needed to diffuse the situation before you really got mad, because past that point, you weren’t responsible for what you said– or did.

So you ventured into the aisles of books, a curious Sirius on your heels, following you like a lost, yapping puppy. “If it’s nothing then why are you running away?” he pushed back.

You ignored him pointedly, stopping to stack a few books and dust along the shelves. No one had come in yet, still too early in the morning for any tourists to stumble upon your admittedly quaint but bursting shop.

The sunlight barely filtered past the dense collection of books and mahogany shelves that lined the walls, but the windows stretched to the tall ceilings, and if you went up the spiralling staircase at the centre of the store, you’d find yourself in a cosy loft space, bathed in gold and stuffed with arm chairs and sofas for people to sit and read in.

It was your favourite part of the store, and you were seriously debating hiding up there on your first day, just to get away from the walking-plague that followed you.

“Come on– tell me,” he whined, standing too close for your liking. You side-stepped away, brushing a cloth against the worn covers of the Mystery section. He followed suit, returning to his previous position, and this time, you had no way out with the wall of books you’d met.

You turned, facing him and finally acknowledged his presence. “You lied,” you stated matter-of-factly, loving that you actually had the upper-hand with him. As much as you prided yourself with being quick-witted, Sirius always seemed to find a way to stay on-top.

“Gonna have to give me something more than that, darling. Lied about what?” he countered, raising an eyebrow at you.

You bristled at the endermeant but continued nonetheless.,

“You weren't busy. You were screwing some girl according to the bruises on your neck,” you stared pointedly at the affected area now, though it was covered by his hair in this position. His hand flew to his neck, as if hoping to shield them from your gaze.

“That’s none of your business Potter,” he countered, irritated.

“It actually is my business when you’re both late to your job and lying to my Father,” you threw back, shoving forward and relishing in his slight stumble back– as if he hadn’t yet noticed the two of you were so so close.

“You can’t–” his eyes were wide, worried, as he grabbed your elbow, forcing you to meet his gaze, “You can’t tell him. He’ll be so disappointed and I can’t–”

You frowned at the look of genuine distress written so plainly across of his face. If you two were anyone else, you might've let it go.

Might've--

“Well tough shit, Sirius. You’re an adult, now. This is the real world we’re talking about and not whatever fantasy you've been frolicking about these past two years." You were fuming, unnecessarily so, but both of you knew this was fight had been years in the making.

"I understand you lack the ability to form real, genuine connections but come on, Sirius. You're not a fucking teenager. Grow a pair and take some responsibility for once in your life!"

And really, you deserved it, now that you thought back. His anger was reasonable but your need to poke straight through his ribcage, wrap your fist around his heart and squeeze tight, was not.

“Fuck you, Potter.” he bit out. “Just because you're not getting any doesn't mean the rest of us have to be equally as miserable."

It was already going to shit, Sirius was well aware of it, but he couldn't get himself to stop. To just shut up.

“Maybe if you weren’t so fucking uptight all the time someone might actually give it to you too," his voice now barely above a whisper with his anger deflated as he stared, pained, at your reaction.

And it didn’t take long for you to react -- for your hand to fly up and connect with his cheek, hard. You hadn't done anything two years ago but he thinks he saw you consider it. So the fact that you had finally, struck across the face, spoke to how different things really were. How different you were.

"Potter, I--" and he was speechless when he really shouldn't have been. He swallowed, trying again. “I’m sorry,” he whispered then, fighting the urge to look away from your glassy stare. “I’m sorry, Potter. You know I don’t mean it.”

What you hated most was that you did know. You knew you both brought out the worst in each other. Only, you could never figure out why that was. Why you wanted to hurl insults at him for every comment or look or the stupid way he’d string together the most perfect sentence and his irritating eyes and mouth and–

“Excuse me? Is anyone here?”

You inhaled, all sudden, as if only just realising what you had done. You brushed past him without a word, needing, more than ever, to put some space between the two of you. If not for your anger then for whatever pesky emotion was seeping through your cracks.

You were (reluctantly) pulled from wherever your thoughts had been racing to as you called into the store, “Just one moment!”

Sirius debated if this was a sign for him to get back onto a train to anywhere you were not. It didn’t matter if he had no money or nowhere to be, but if it meant he could avoid maiming you with his words, he couldn’t quite see a way out of his predicament.

“Sirius!” you shouted again, no longer faking your emotions but rather genuinely just exasperated by him once more.

“I’m coming! I’m coming!” He managed to not get lost in the labyrinth of books, and found you by the travel section, chatting good-naturedly with a blonde in a tight dress.

“How can I help, doll?” he asked the blonde in question. His one tactic for almost every conundrum he’d ended up in was avoidance. And bloody hell was he good at it.

He smiled at her, the customer, doing little to hide his admiration for the legs she had on display. She flushed a pretty pink, averting her gaze, lip between her teeth. Bingo!

“Christ, you’re disgusting,” you muttered, mouth pouting and quiet enough that only he could hear.

“Only for you, sweetheart, only for you,” he bit back, not wanting the currently oblivious customer clue in on their conversation. “So, how can I help?”

“She needs that book–” you pointed to the top shelf, well out of reach. “--the green spine that says Amsterdam, but I can’t reach it and the step ladder is too heavy.”

“Alas! Only ever needed for my body, it seems,” he moaned with an irritating amount of flourish.

“Whatever it takes to get the book down– do what you must, Black.” You patted his chest reassuringly, taking your spot, once again, behind the cash register.

“So– planning a trip are you?” Sirius asked in between excessive displays of strength as he hauled the bulky ladder with a single hand. You glared at the girl as she swooned at him, wanting, rather unreasonably, for her to combust right where she stood.

But that was a ridiculous thought to begin with. You could barely stand to be even within a metre’s distance of the guy, let alone on the receiving end of his affections. You were tired, emotional and dehydrated. Must be. Though a glance at the clock had you realising it had barely been an hour since your day had started.

So, maybe just emotional and dehydrated.

“I’m going to get a coffee from across the street,” you announced, slugging your tote bag onto your shoulder as you walked past the preoccupied pair. Not waiting for a response, you stepped out into the early morning sun, frowning, for once, at the glare in your eyes and not the irritant you’d left behind.

It was easier to refer to him as something pesky, infectious, fungus-like even, rather than the only person who knew how to break your heart (and despite your somewhat impenetrable facade, you let him do just that every time).

please please PLEASE reblog & leave some feedback <3 i'll boop you if you do x

#sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x f!reader #sirius black fanfiction #marauders #the marauders #marauders fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfic #sirius black angst #sirius black smut #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n

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misshugs · 5 months

Text

It'll be alright || Colby Brock

[inspired] "feels like i'm always apologizing for feeling."

[req by anon] At the end of the day, it seems that the ones you least expect are the ones that are always by your side at your worst.

warnings: shy/introvert!reader, mentions of self-abandonment, angst, self/degrading, cursing, anxiety, hurt/comfort?

a/n: i'll prolly do the banner soon enough, also not proofread at all so if there's something that sounds.. weird, my bad ;; i'll fix it eventually

word count: 4.6k [u n e d i t e d]

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You knew it wasn't quite healthy for you disregard your own feelings like this, but you got so used to it.

You hid them so well at times, you feared you weren't even being honest with yourself.

Being a people pleaser wasn't something you wanted to do, but somehow managed to end up being. You never really wanted to make people upset, so you tried your best to help out as much as you could whenever you were able to.

Turning out like this also lead to friends that weren't really there for you, but you were always there for them.

You always were.

Even when they made fun of you, whenever they asked you for so many favours you knew you weren't going to get back, you were always there. You persisted in this so called "friendship" merely because they seemed to actually like hanging out with you.

At least it's what you thought at the time.

And honestly, who could blame you? Although it was most certainly a toxic friendship, they genuinely added you to most conversations. It wasn't as if you were only there to fill up the background most of the time.

Right?

"Hey babes, would you mind buying us some drinks?"

"Buying? Soph, I'm not even drinking tonight, I-"

"Really? You're going to do this to us? After we've invited your ass here? You're really trying to make us look bad?" She spat back, making you nervous.

It's all too familiar.

This has happened too many times for your comfort, and it always seemed to work in their favour; even when you tried to avoid it.

"N-no! I'm just saying that you could-" She put a hand infront of you.

"Shush. God, you're making my ears bleed." She whined before getting closer to your face. "Look, you go over there and ask for five shots of tequila, m'kay? Be a good one for me tonight, it also might improve your own reputation so, you know, stop talking and start moving honey. Tap tap." Her cunning smile and slight push on your shoulder made your heart race in an abnormal speed.

You really didn't want to. You really shouldn't, actually. But they were your friends, weren't they? You're doing this because they're friends.

Yeah, well. Keep telling yourself that lie.

Walking towards the bar and waiting for the drinks, there was this guy waiting right beside you. He looked at you with an amused smirk.

"Five? That's impressive."

"They're not for me." You responded with a half smile.

"Not even one?" He raised a brow, gaining a slight shake of your head as a response. "Sucks. Can I buy you one then?"

You look back at him, now with an amused expression yourself. Taking out his card and giving it to the barista before even letting you pull out your wallet, you looked at his deep, blue eyes.

"Bill's on me this time. Looks like you need a little break." He whispered, a small wink quickly after.

"Well, thank you, kind stranger." You said, taking all of the shots with you and looking back at him.

"Colby." He answered, trying to give you a handshake only to see your hands full and laugh. "Right."

You giggled. "I'm Y/n. Thank you again, Colby." And so, you walked away.

Sam, walking towards Colby after watching his obvious intend of flirting with you, putting his hand on his shoulder and said while looking at you walk away.

"You should've helped her dude."

"Ah, shit."

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"God, I can't believe I still invite you to these, you're so ungrateful." She sobbed, "After all you've done to us I still invite you regardless, and this is how you repay us? Your friends?"

You paused, looking slightly down while the dramaqueen infront of you began fanning her eyes and looking up, trying to not ruin her perfect makeup with her fake tears. You tried to restrain your own feelings, closing your hand into a fist, feeling yourself getting frustrated by the second.

The word friends ached in your heart for the very first time, and you knew it wasn't a good sign. "Sorry." You whispered, basically apologizing for feeling. Again.

In the end, you were still too shy to try and confront yourself to her. You knew you would lose, even though you've already created a million different ways of repelling every single one of her insults.

She was too predictable, too easy to contradict. But she had something you didn't.

Confidence.

Maybe if it weren't for the dozens of people that could be staring straight through you, you might be able to have a chance. Even then, you knew better. You get nervous too easily to try and spat back shit to this princess. Slowly but surely, you were starting to lose hope in this so called friendship you had with her and her other dogs.

Or maybe it was already gone, you just didn't want to admit it to yourself.

You were tired.

The stress, the anxiety that was draining you was too much. It wasn't worth it, and you knew it.

What made you keep going? Was it because you were comfortable? Did you not want to try something new? Were you too accustomed to their presence that it made it hard to walk away? Yeah, most likely.

"I can't with you today. You're such a meanie." Soph argued, turning away. "Do whatever you fucking want. Get lost or whatever, I'm not taking you home." She walked away with her group. Their judgemental glares were enough to carve a hole in your heart.

It wasn't only them, but the people that got a glimpse of the situation began murmuring. The feeling of being watched, judged and laughed at by strangers. An unbearable, overwhelming feeling that stopped you in place. You were feeling yourself loose air, your hands shaky at the mere thought and paranoia you were collapsing yourself with.

On the mere edge of tears, you felt a hand on your shoulder, making you jump in surprise. "Oh, my bad." They laughed. A familiar male voice released you from the thoughts. You looked at his face. Colby. "Didn't mean to scare you. Saw you all alone so I passed by to say hello. You doing okay?" He smiled.

Somehow, that smile is all you needed. Your eyes fluttered while you fixated your vision on his pretty face. You smiled back. "Yeah, yeah. Doing good." You tried to compose yourself once again.

Surprisingly, it was easy because of him. His jokes, flirty comments and pretty smile made you completely forget how you were on the edge of a panic attack barely a few hours ago.

"I'll be honest with ya. Last time? You made me so shy that I was going to ask for your number then completely forgot up until it was already too late." He laughed, so contagious that it made you giggle back. "Would you mind giving me a chance of texting you once in a while? Of course, if you don't mind."

"Yeah, sure, I don't mind." You gave him your number. A part of you hoping it wasn't yet another prank that would make you break into despair, but at the same time, you wanted to believe. You still had hope; not everyone is bad. Right?

After passing numbers, you notice the time in your phone. "Ah, shit. I should be leaving, it's too late." You stood up from your seat, fixing yourself up.

"Oh, well, are you driving?" He asked, standing up after you.

"Oh... um. I guess I'll have to call an uber, since my... friend will probably be staying." You mumbled slightly, remembering that bitter memory from not so long ago.

"Mind if I drive you home then?" A soft smile on his face; a sincere one. You looked at him, dazed for a moment. "...Is... Is that a yes?"

"Oh, uh... are you sure? I wouldn't want to bother you." You respond quickly.

"Bother me? Not at all. You've been my light of the party tonight." He laughs at his own statement. "Come on, let's get you home, sweetheart." He followed, putting his hand at your upper back, walking you towards the exit.

You didn't argue about it. In fact, you preferred to leave as quickly as possible, and he was giving you that chance. It was nice, it felt nice to have what you wanted for a change, even if it was as simple as leaving a party sooner than later.

After an annoyingly quick ride back home, you thanked him prefusely before walking back into your appartment.

Tonight took a toll on you emotionally; feeling dread and such a big pleasure at the same time. After a much needed shower and a midnight snack, you heard your phone.

A text? Who would even text you this late at night? You started questioning if it was Soph or one of the other girls, only to soothe the rising stress when you saw the text from a new contact.

Hey, it's Colby. Hoping you didn't give me a wrong number

It made you chuckle while responding right away.

I'm not the type to do that, don't worry

Oh, I'm glad, would've been heartbroken if you did

Did you go back to the party?

Nah, went straight home. The friend that was with me said he was going to stay longer but I went home

Why did you not go?

The life of the party left

Who?

You?

You rolled your eyes at the comment. This cheeky bastard.

You loved it.

Talking for a few more minutes, your eyelids began to close on their own. Your sleep schedule catching up to you.

It didn't take long until you fell asleep.

After some weeks, your supposed friends stopped texting you. One or two parties where you were left uninvited. It didn't bother you much, but at the same time, you were thinking of what you were missing; overthinking around the way it would've turned out great.

But also how wrong it could've been.

It was almost 11 pm, you've been watching the stories of your friends having fun without you. Nothing new, until a text from Colby made it change.

Haven't seen you at the party

Your heart ached. Someone expecting you was something... new. You were blaming yourself, even though it wasn't really your fault.

Kinda sick. Couldn't go.

Aw, that sucks. Hope you get well soon

It felt wrong to do this, but at the same time, nothing new to you. Trying to cover up the true feelings behind the kind smile you always put up.

Thank you.

A couple of minutes passed before another answer came through.

Party's getting boring, wish you were here

Trying to hype me up, Colby?

Is it working?

A little.

You smiled at his small attempts. He's been texting you enough to know there's been a distance between your group of friends. Some personal information between the both of you getting mixed up through conversations, getting to know eachother in a more personal level.

Him, having such an odd job being a 'ghosthunter' and (somehow worst, or maybe better?) he had proof of it. You, on the other hand, another slave to capitalism. Even worse, a slave to a more toxic relationship than your ex boyfriend. Your friends.

Usually, you wouldn't be the type to open up like this; but one thing turned into another and now here we are. A stranger that knows you better than every single person that's passed by your life, merely because he's asked the right questions at the right time. A master with words.

Sooo can we be honest then? Are you actually sick?

I'm impressed at how well you've come to know me.

Figured. You coming to the party then?

I wasn't invited.

How come? I'm inviting you right now

What?

I can take a plus one with me

I want you to be my plus one

…are you serious? I'm not even like, ready or anything.

Are you even sure? I'm not fun.

Take your time sweetheart. Tell me when I'm able to pass by

Also what do you mean you're not fun? Take that back right now

Your cheeks felt warm. You've come to learn to read emotions though text as the time passed by; knowing when you were really not wanted or knowing when somebody else was interested in things outside your circle.

This, however. These texts from this... guy. They felt genuine.

…

Thank you

It's really no biggie, I want you to come with me (if you want, of course)

So put on something sexy

For the party, of course

You chuckled at the comment. You weren't able to fully comprehend if he was being serious or just as flirtatious as always. But you didn't mind. Right now, you were about to go into a party. Why? God knows.

Maybe you do too, but you wouldn't like to admit it.

Not now, at least.

Standing up and walking toward your wardrobe, you skimmed through it. What should you wear? Something normal as always? Is it even worth it to try and switch it up for a change? You never really tried to make yourself look appealing, there was no reason to anyways.

But this time? Fuck it. It was different. You weren't going with them, you were going with him. You sighed, pushing yourself to wear the most decent looking dress you could find in your closet; fitted with some high heels the same color of the dress.

Finishing off your makeup, you saw your phone light up.

I'm here, take your time

Panicked, you replied.

Thought you were going to wait for me to finish??

I am?

Not in front of my house???

We can leave right away when you're done

Stop arguing, I don't mind waiting here

Come inside at least

Don't mind if I do then

Sighing, you looked at yourself in the mirror. You weren't going to take longer than 5 minutes, but you felt bad leaving him outside. Walking towards your front door, you gulped down the nerves and opened up the door.

He was as fine as always, looking down at his phone before raising his head and looking at your face. His mouth opened slightly, unable to move for a moment.

You were stunning in his eyes. Looking at you up and down, he had to catch his own breath. How was he this lucky to be able to be next to this beauty?

"Is it... too weird? I'm not the type to commonly use these type of clothes..." You almost whispered, doubting your looks.

"You're kidding." He was able to respond. "I've never seen someone look this beautiful." You smiled and rolled your eyes. "I'm serious. Are you seriously not aware."

"Not aware of what?" You asked, a slight frown on your face due to the confusion.

"Of how gorgeous you look?" The frown quickly turned into a surprised look, your cheeks turning red at the revelation.

Hugging slightly your door to try and find comfort, you looked away from his graze. "Get in, I'm still not done." You said and be obliged. Closing the door behind him, you told him to get comfortable while you finished yourself up.

It didn't take you long, fortunately. A few fixes around the eyes and you were basically done. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you were satisfied with yourself this time. You didn't feel forced, heck, you felt beautiful. Perhaps it was Colby's comments that affected your mental state, but whatever it was, it felt good.

Walking back towards the man in your living room, you heard him whistle at you, which made you laugh.

"I'm gonna have so many death stares walking with you tonight."

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Nervousness filled you up when you walked inside the party. Holding onto Colby's arm, he could feel your hand shaking. He gave you a reassuring look, one that said "Everything's going to be fine."

And you tried to believe it as much as you could.

Whatever you seemingly expected from the night somehow turned into the greatest parties you've ever experienced.

Perhaps it was because you were with Colby's friends instead of yours.

Maybe it was the fact that you were actually connected into their conversation instead of being pushed out. Being listened to instead of ignored and getting talked over.

Was this what it felt to be having fun? You almost forgot this was what it's supposed to be like. It felt nice.

"I'll be right back. Gotta to to the bathroom." You said standing up from your seat.

"I'll go and get some drinks in the meantime. Anyone wants a refill?" Colby asked, nodding at the requests he was receiving. You smiled at him before walking away.

You were quick in finding the bathroom, finishing what you had to do soon enough and getting out of the room.

Before you started walking towards the group, you got pushed away and in the center of a bunch of girls, smirking at you. Judging you. Your heart sank as fast as you recognized just one of them.

"Who do we have here?" Soph teased, a sly smirk on her face. "Isn't it too late for you? Thought you would've been at home. It's past your bedtime, isn't it?" Laughs were heard from the group surrounding you.

No, no, no. This wasn't a good time for this. You were having fun, you were doing so good! You've never felt better at a party and now all of it was destroyed.

"It's none of your business, Soph." You could hear a gasp after your response. A dramatic, opened mouthed expression on her face.

"Oh, so, now that you've found a new stupid little group of freaks now you think you can talk back at me?" She spat out.

You looked slightly to the side. "You just called yourself a freak." You thought, unable to actually argue back. You felt a hand on your chin, making you look at her directly to her eyes.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you." She demanded. You gulped, trying to compose yourself as hard as you could just to not shiver under her. You had to be strong, to proof to her you were better.

But it was hard.

"Think your stupid little face will be fixed with a bit of makeup? Ha." She scoffed, looking at your whole outfit this time. "Someone as ugly as you won't be fixed by a little change of outfit. Not even if that friend of yours tells you otherwise. Or maybe not a friend? Who knows? It's not like he's interested in you anyways." She grinned, roughly moving your face towards a specific corner of the group.

And there you saw it, it was Colby. With another girl. Your heart sank, for some reason. Your breath escaped your lips as it got shaky, eyes quickly watering when you saw her get a bit too close to his face while he, with some drinks on his hands, was unable to do anything.

Why were you feeling like this anyways? It's not like you guys were something, were you? Why did it hurt this much? Your expression softened at the illusion you had made so quickly. So dumb, of course he wasn't interested.

"What's wrong? Did you silly little confidence already shatter? That was so easy." She almost sounded dissapointed. A push on your back was enough for you to fall onto the ground. It's not like you weren't about to anyways, your legs were already shaking at the mere thought that everything that has been going on was a mere lie.

A setup.

You heard laugher, whilst barely holding yourself up by the palms of your hands. "How pathetic. You shouldn't have even come. Now you're just being a bother to another group, another dead weight."

And they were right, you believed they were right. You believed them so easily that it was almost funny.

You could hardly breathe, the tears dwelling onto your eyes as a thick blurriness covered your vision. You couldn't hold it anymore, the stress... it all came to the surface quick enough. The music dissipating into the distance as you heard yourself breathing heavily; the only sound you could focus on.

The sound of you losing your mind. Your heart pounding hard. Too hard, perhaps. It ached. You could feel the frown on your face while the tears kept on flowing.

Come on, you were better than this. Why are you acting this way? You can easily act neutral like always, smiling, ignoring all of these feelings.

But breathing was hard, the murmurs of other people being only that; whispers you could barely understand. You felt like you had no control of yourself, like you were trapped in this center of humiliation of people you once called friends.

But they never intended to be your friends from the start; they were only using you.

This wasn't the first time either. Over and over again you were considered the center of humiliation of these people, the only difference is that this time was the last straw that broke off the mask you tried to so desperately to keep on.

A pair of hands began shaking you, trying to make you stand up from the floor. You couldn't pay attention to who it was, as you were busy enough dealing with the sudden lost of oxygen.

Maybe even a lost of self.

Barely able to walk due to your legs feeling numb from the unbearable feeling in your chest, whoever it was helped you out and moved your arm around their neck. You're not exactly sure what happened, but before you could even get yourself together, you noticed you were outside.

Still breathing heavily, finally, you looked at the figure that helped you out.

Colby.

It only made your panic attack worse. You started crying harder when you saw his face. The pain of being a fool was covered in your face.

"Hey, come on, breathe." He tried to give you your space. Far enough to let you calm down, close enough to hold you up. But he ended up hugging you closer when he noticed how broken you seemed.

You didn't hesitate and held him tighter. "I'm sorry, I.. I... I sh-shouldn't..." You sniffed, trying to find the right words to say. You felt the urge to try and explain yourself to him. Your vision was blurry and finding yourself choking with your own words.

"Let it all out, don't worry. I'm here for you, okay?" He whispered sweet nothings in your ear, his hands caressing your back as he spoke. "Breathe. Calm down your breathing first, sweetheart. It'll be alright."

Shaking in his arms, you found yourself comforted by his scent. Breathing in his cologne felt almost hypnotizing. His way of calming you down absolutely worked. For the most part. Sniffing, you tried to explain yourself, trying to argue to yourself that these feelings shouldn't have appeared, it was all a mere accident.

But your cries were more than enough to make him understand at least half of the situation. He was sure it was your friends, but for some reason you were pleading for forgiveness to him. "Hey... you don't owe me an explination, yeah?" He wiped a few lost tears through the run down mascara and cupped your head in his hands, smiling back at you. "Want me to take you home?"

You were barely able to respond with a little nod. It was all he needed.

It was a decently quiet ride. Colby took it upon himself to try and make you feel alright, holding onto your shaky hand and softly caressing it.

When he parked infront of your home, as he was about to walk out of the car, you stopped him. Looking back at you, he understood and sat back down. You didn't want to go inside, or maybe you didn't want to stand up overall, which he didn't mind if it meant for you to feel alright.

With your shivering lips and puffy eyes, you sniffed whilst wiping some dry tears from your cheeks. The stress has calmed down and you're able to breathe normally once again.

He was patient with you. He didn't try and make you speak up or got tired, he waited. Waited until you said something or wanted to move.

"Sorry." You finally spoke. He kept his eyes on your eyes, waiting for you to elaborate. "I was... a mess, it shouldn't have happened." You wiped some tears before looking at him. He seemed... confused.

"What do you mean it shouldn't have happened?" He asked.

"You're just... trying to have fun while I'm here just... ruining your night. I told you I wasn't fun. You could've found someone else to go with, I-"

"Who said I wanted someone else?" He interrupted.

It made you quiet down for a few seconds before talking back. "Well, I mean..." You sniffed. "You were... with... there was someone else, I just thought... you just... wanted someone... to... um... I don't know... hang around with, not something to carry." It was hard for you to explain yourself.

What were you even trying to explain? Were you just upset because you 'ruined his night' or because of something else? You were confused. "Who? The annoying girl? She randomly came to me, I couldn't even move her away because I had the drinks on my hands."

Annoying was a word that stood out to you. It seemed your overthinking got the best of you. Perhaps whatever you believed wasn't true? Looking at his face dumbfounded, he smirked. "What? Were you jealous?"

That was another word that stood out. Your cheeks fluttered and you murmured to yourself whilst looking away. "As if..." You could hear his contagious laugh after your words, making you smile slightly.

There was a comfortable silence before he spoke again.

"I saw it. Last time. Your 'friends'... The way she didn't even hesitate on making herself the victim when she saw fit. I had to control myself that night, that plastic face of hers was about to change shape if I didn't." He laughed to himself.

You were quiet, so he continued. "Honestly, it made me so mad that even though I was going to try and talk to you anyways, I had to make sure you didn't go back to them. I didn't want you to. You don't deserve friends like that, no one does." His brows furrowed at the thought.

"...It's not like I wanted to, either. I guess I just... got used to it." You whispered, looking at his hands covering yours. He held them tighter and got slightly closer to kiss your forehead, giving you a soft smile afterwards.

"I don't know if you'll ever try to trust again after all of that, but... would you give me a chance to be your friend? For now, who knows if I might level up later on." It made you smile. It always made you smile.

And you wanted to trust. To trust him, even though it might break your heart in the long run. Right now, you just wanted to feel safe, and he was the safest bet. "I guess I can give you a chance. And... let's see if you're able to upgrade sooner than later." He could only smile brighter, kissing your knuckles before changing his tone of voice to a more energetic one.

"So, wanna get drunk in your house? I have a Jack Daniel's in the trunk."

"Wha..."

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this was lying on my drafts for too long unnecesarily- hope you liked it!

also i put specifically that one song but there are so many that can be part of this trope, it's just too much for me to add lol

~nikkõ

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ghcstao3 · 7 months

Note

Pirates!Ghoap au (I can't stop thinking about it - or about any other au but this one is so dear to me)

Hope you have a nice day ☺️

sort of inspired by the jack sparrow and angelica scene in potc stranger tides. because that is where my mind goes when Pirates

Ghost has spent many years cultivating his reputation as a revered, feared pirate, and for just as long he's had several people try to challenge that. Try to challenge him. Of course, they never succeed in such endeavours, but this is much different. This is a first.

No one has ever tried to impersonate him before.

His crew had just made port in one of their more frequent haunts, having barely gotten the chance to step foot on land before an old acquaintance is greeting Ghost with surprise—everyone thought he had already arrived, had already been drinking and picking off the idiots trying to fight him. Had already been spreading rumours of his next voyage; a teasing invitation, a dare for anyone to follow.

But obviously, such is not the case. It can't be, when Ghost is here, fresh off his ship, standing among the few men and women in this world that he trusts—not an ale nor scrap in sight.

So, rightfully confused, Ghost orders his crew to hang back while he investigates, and puts an end to whatever charade this may be.

Despite the piece of skull that obscures the lower half of Ghost's face—all part of his reputation, mostly, and he's glad to have it spark debate on whether or not the skull is real, and whether or not he's human—it's relatively easy to go undetected as he makes his way through the port village, his presence entirely unnoticed as he slips into the tavern that caters most to his... profession.

And just as it's not difficult to sneak around, it isn't hard to spot his impersonator; they're the centre of attention at the tavern tonight, and though Ghost can commend the guts it takes to attempt such an act, he's honestly offended that so many people believed it was really him.

Though, with as drunk as the crowd is, and if he squints just enough, Ghost supposes he could see how the mistake was made. Even still, Ghost isn't particularly pleased with the situation.

He hovers at the sidelines, melting into the shadows as he waits for the fake "Ghost" to catch his eye.

Ghost knows the moment they do, when he watches as they utter some excuse and make their leave. Ghost only follows with his eyes, at first, before deciding to push away from the wall, skirting along the edges of the crowd toward to the door the fake "Ghost" had exited through.

It leads to the back alley wedged between other buildings and darkened cobblestone streets. It reeks of refuse, and it's to no surprise of Ghost's own when moments after the door shuts behind him, the point of a cutlass is threatening his jugular.

He doesn't flinch, only shifts his gaze disinterestedly toward the owner of the sabre.

"Don't think you have much of a right to be doing that," Ghost drawls.

His imitator doesn't move for a long moment, cutlass held steady at Ghost's throat. Even in the dim light, Ghost can tell their eyes are blue, and suddenly he's again offended that this disguise was actually passed off as him.

Then the sword is finally lowered and sheathed. The fake's own tricorne and mask are removed (the skull is fake, Ghost thinks, no question about it), revealing a hideous hairstyle and a charming, shark-like grin.

"Was hopin' I might eventually get to meet the real Ghost," the man says, his voice tinged with genuine excitement.

Ghost... hadn't expected that.

"How long have you been doing this for?" Ghost demands, now irritated more than anything.

The man shrugs carelessly, casually, not in the slightest bit deterred. "Not long enough to damage your reputation, if that's what you're worried about. If anything, I've strengthened your reputation," he insists. Then he's offering his hand out to Ghost. "I'm John, by the way."

Ghost barely spares the gesture a glance. "I don't care. Why?"

John at least has the decency to act sheepish this time. "I had a proposition for you. Needed to get your attention somehow."

Ghost raises an eyebrow. His hand instinctually drifts to the pommel of his own sword. "And?"

John's gaze flickers to the movement and he hesitates, but only minutely. He then lifts his chin and rolls back his shoulders, and Ghost can almost see how John could have the gall to pull off the charade he had for who knows how long. "I want to join your cr—"

"No."

John scowls. "I wasn't finished," he snaps. "I want to join your crew. And if you let me, I can get you to that fountain of youth I hear you've been searching for. I swear it."

It's Ghost's turn to frown beneath his mask. Why would John want to help him for the measly reward of sailing with Ghost and his shipmates? Sure, some have called it an honour—but in exchange for guidance to a reward so mythical? There must be a catch. It doesn't make sense otherwise.

Ghost narrows his eyes, fingers curling around the pommel. "How can I trust you to make good on that promise?"

That toothy grin reappears, more mischievous in nature than Ghost is comfortable with. It warns him of trouble.

"S'pose there's only one way to find out," John muses. "Otherwise I might just continue what I've been doing. Maybe hitch a ride to another island, pretend to be you some more. Hurt everything you've built up. I've fooled enough people so far."

It takes a lot of restraint not to pull out his sword, and fight John right in the alleyway. But the man's right, as deranged as he may be—it's either bring him along, or continue on a fruitless journey to a place that may not even exist.

He doesn't want to accept the deal, but he can't afford to have John ruining his life's work, either.

With great reluctance, Ghost agrees to let John join his crew—he figures it should only be temporary, at best.

"I find out you're lying, I'll gut you," Ghost hisses, only once it's been settled. "I've yet to see a man capable of swimming with his intestines hanging out. Maybe you'd be a first."

John's grin transforms into something else, something Ghost can't quite place.

He hums. "Maybe. But I don't plan on finding out," John says. He nudges Ghost away from the tavern's back door before pushing it open, gesturing his arm out as if beckoning the pirate to enter. Then in a lowered voice, a tone Ghost isn't quite sure how to feel about, John purrs, "Captain."

Ghost is already beginning to think he had made the wrong choice.

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