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starzradio · 15 hours ago

Text

DOUBLE OR NOTHING

after countless empty promises spilled from his lips, you wanted to believe that he’d show up to your anniversary of all things.

FEATURING: toji fushiguro x wife! reader

CONTENTS: non canon compliant/au, marriage problems, talks of divorce, angst, smut, porn w/out plot rly, unprotected p in v, cunnilingus, fingering, spanking, doggy, missionary against a wall, pet names (ma, princess, etc.)

WORD COUNT: 4.9k

AUTHOR’S NOTE: repost bc i need this dilf in my bed rn 😞

"I'll make it home to you by six, mama. Take you out on a nice date, get you some flowers, all that stuff you like. Promise."

The clock was nearing eight o'clock with no signs of Toji coming through the door anytime soon, your own patience starting to run out with every tick. Tick tock. Tick tock. Tick tock. The sound echoed through your ears since you'd sat down on the leather couch nearly two hours ago, waiting for Toji to fulfill the promise. A promise that he'd made after flaking out on the date planned prior to that one.

And prior to that one. And prior. It'd been more missed dates than actual ones that he'd taken you out by now—you weren't exactly sure why you'd hoped for tonight to be different. Well, you knew exactly why. Today marked three years of being married to one another. You knew that he didn't prioritize date nights with you as much as he should, but you had held some sort of foolish hope that your anniversary would mean something—anything to him.

The divorce papers felt like a dead weight in your hand, much like how your relationship would be the second that you brought it up. It all just seemed so final, seeing the terms laid out that would end years of marriage. Just by the flick of a pen. But the idea was almost like a reprieve, like something that was worth looking forward to. You shook your head, getting up from the couch to set the stack of papers on the kitchen table where Toji wouldn't miss them.

Another half hour of eerie silence and Toji still hadn't come through the door. It was getting increasingly difficult to keep some semblance of hope that he'd even show up at all, much less for your date. You admitted defeat, slipping off your heels and pulling up a throw blanket over yourself. Succumbing to the sleep that was weighing down on your eyelids.

You weren't even sure how much time had passed when you heard the door swing open, the door hitting the wall from the force. The thud of his shoes hitting the tile followed, a grumble leaving Toji's lips. "Fuckin' bastards rigged that race. Robbed me of fifty bucks," he muttered to himself, slipping his coat off before placing it up on the coat rack.

"You're home late," you called out, watching as Toji turned to look at the couch before flicking on one of the living room lights. "Jesus woman, you scared me," he grumbled, a large hand resting by his chest as he looked over in your direction. Toji rubbed a hand over his face, exhaustion lingering on his face like a second skin. It was only then that he looked over at you, really looked at you, and what you were wearing.

Ah shit.

Almost as if he wanted to make the situation worse, he'd chosen to go with, "You got all dolled up just to fall asleep on the couch?" You could've sworn you felt your eye twitch at the question. He'd barely opened up his mouth and you were already wishing that he didn't even bother showing up for the night.

Toji knew he was in deep shit with each step he took into the living room, his mind already starting to work overdrive to figure out what he could do for what he'd missed. A date? No, you wouldn't have put on the very expensive pair of Louboutins for just any date. His mind was blanking on anything other than the numbers that he'd lost with earlier in the day. Come on, think.

"No, I got dolled up because I thought I'd be going out with my husband tonight," you retorted dryly, smudges of eyeshadow sticking to your hand when you went to rub at your eyes. You could see Toji's brows furrow, the wheels seeming to turn in his head for once, before a look of realization settled on his features.

"Look, I'm sorry. I got carried away at the casino," one of the many excuses you'd heard before coming back to bite you in the ass. The same excuse that he'd used last month when he forgot about a work party you'd mentioned to him. Which wouldn't have been too bad if it weren't for all the snide comments being whispered in your direction and all the unwarranted marriage advice.

Advice that you ended up forgetting about chugging down two glasses of tequila like water. "I'll make it up to you, I swear. You can pick the place and all that shit." There went another one. He'd really topped himself using the two of them in a row. You rubbed the bridge of your nose, looking over at him in disbelief. "Do you even know what today was? Why I'm so pissed off?"

"It's your birthday?" Toji spoke after a couple seconds, the answer clearly wrong just by the look on his face. You rubbed a hand over your face, standing up from your spot on the couch. "It's our wedding anniversary, Toji," you spoke up before he made another guess that would just piss you off even further, "And I have something I need to talk to you about. It's on the kitchen table."

Underneath the vase filled with wilted flowers—a collection more than anything that you kept around as a reminder that Toji used to care, was a stack of papers. He placed the vase down on the table with more force than necessary upon realizing what the documents were. "A divorce?" The words slipped out of him with such venom, such distaste, like the idea was unfathomable.

Toji slammed the papers down on the table, the salt and pepper shakers trembling before falling over. "Is that really what you want?" He stepped closer to you when you approached the table, his hands instinctively moving to hold your hips. Holding you close to his body. "No, I didn't get married with the intention of getting a divorce. But you've been neglecting this marriage for a couple months now."

"I'll make it up to you now," Toji spoke quickly, like he was afraid of losing you at any moment. Like you'd disappear if he didn't. And as much as you wanted to avoid looking over at him, the task had just become all that much difficult when you had nowhere else to look at. It only took one glance at his face to realize just what he meant by 'making it up to you.'

"You think you're gonna fix months of pushing me aside with just sex?"

"Nah, I know it's gonna take more. But you've been so tired, isn't that right? So tired of tryin' to keep this marriage from falling apart and nobody taking care of you?" His words were like a siren's song when he whispered them in your ear, your traitorous body leaning back to meet the drag of your fingertips. It was almost laughable at how easily your resolve had melted. "Lemme take care of you mama. Promise I'll make you feel good."

"You wanna call me a dick, never wanna see me again? That's fine, just don't deny me one last taste. Please," And while Toji wasn't a man to beg for anything in his life, he found himself saying the words anyways. "Thought this was you making it up to me," and as much as you were willing yourself not to fold, you felt yourself spreading your legs almost instinctively when his finger dragged up your inner thigh.

"Can't it be both?" Toji's teeth nipped at your neck, licking a stripe up the junction of your neck. Practically salivating at the taste of you, of the expensive perfume you'd put on just a mere hours beforehand. "One could say that you're just being selfish," your words quickly died out when Toji started sucking on your pulse point, your own heartbeat betraying you. You'd expected Toji to sass you back, say something about how your body was just so needy against his touch.

But instead, he dropped down to his knees in front of you. The wooden floor underneath his knees almost made him feel bad for all the times he had you in a similar position. Almost. Toji looked up at you, "Selfish only when it comes to you."

Every slow drag of his fingertips across your smooth skin seemed almost reverent— like you were something to worship. You were, he just failed to realize that until now. Until you were almost out the door. "I'm sorry," the first real apology of the night slipped out of his mouth, his lips pressed against your shin. "I'm sorry," he moved up to your knee, repeating the action. Hushed whispers of I'm sorry's and featherlight kisses moving up your legs, stopping only when he gets to your clothed cunt.

"I'm sorry," Toji uttered his last apology against your cunt, his eyes locking onto yours as he applied an open mouthed kiss on your clothed clit. Barely darting his tongue out, swirling it against the nerves that were just begging for one ounce of stimulation. And he was practically reveling in how needy he made you in the span of seconds. Your back arched to rest against the seat behind you, one of your hands going to rest on his head.

Toji's fingers dragged slowly in between your folds, feeling the wet patch already starting to form through the thin lace material. You refused to make eye contact with him, knowing that if you did, he'd be able to see just how desperate you were in just a manner of seconds. Even if the bastard probably had a clue already. "You sure your pussy agrees with the divorce?" His voice came out to something akin to a purr, the drag of his fingers slowing down.

Getting you even more worked up than you were already. "Fucking hate you, can't even apologize right," you let out a hiss, your hand going down to his hair. Pulling his head even closer to you despite your previous claim. "Fine, I'll apologize correctly," Toji sounded like you were the one inconveniencing him—to which you were. He wanted to take his time with his meal, have you begging for him to touch you. And normally, he would've.

If he weren't desperate to have your cunt on his face again after weeks, months? of just having his fist to work with. His fist and a used pair of your panties up to his nose like a pervert, hips humping the air in desperation. Imagining that it was your tongue flicking across his leaking tip instead of his thumb, that it was your soft hands in exchange of his rough ones. And as easy as it was for him to get laid—he didn't want to be with anyone that wasn't you.

Toji hadn't tasted someone as sweet as you, heard someone so angelic before, but now he supposed that maybe he'd have to put that theory to the test if you left him after all. Just the idea was maddening. That someone else would be doing the same thing that he's doing to you now, that they'd give you the affection that he should've given.

"Especially sorry to you. Been neglecting you for too long," he hooked his fingers around the side of your panties, pulling them to the side just enough to reveal your slick folds to him. Toji swiped the tip of his finger along your entrance, your slick glistening against the harsh kitchen lighting before he stuck in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, licking away at it like the slut he was.

And like the deprived man that he'd been, Toji's hands went to the lace of your underwear and stretched it out until a loud rip echoed throughout the kitchen. "You always this wet for people you hate? Or is that just for me?" Toji taunted, pushing your tattered panties down to your ankles. Finally leaning in closer to where you were aching for him to touch you. To do something other than just tease you relentlessly.

Toji settled on his knees behind you, spreading your legs open like you were his favorite meal. His tongue swiped up on your dripping cunt, licking up your essence with sheer greed. "Mmph fuck, so good," his words came out muffled, his tongue swiping across your folds before darting inside of your cunt. Your grip on the table tightened, your hips working on their own accord to push back onto his face. Practically suffocating him in your pussy. Not that he minded. By any means.

Toji practically welcomed it, his hands pushing you down onto his face. Getting absorbed in your cunt completely. "A-Ah fuck, Toji!" You could already see the noise complaint hanging on your front door first thing in the morning. But how could you be expected to keep your voice down? Toji spread your folds apart with two fingers as if he were preparing for a feast, his tongue feverishly licking in between.

"Fuckin' soaked already, knew you loved me," The vibration of the low chuckle that followed his words shot currents up your spine, your ass jiggling all that much more in his face. With such a decadent taste coating his taste buds, dying by your pussy would be nothing short of a blissful way to go out. One of the fingers that he'd been using to spread your folds had been pushed inside of your cunt, your walls clenching around him.

Toji's tongue flicked against your clit, swirling the tip around the bud while his finger slowly pushed further inside of you. The loud squelch of your cunt was the only thing that filled the apartment, everything else completely silent. Your fingers dug deeper into his scalp, a low groan leaving his lips. "F-Fuck, Toji Toji," he pushed another thick finger inside, moving them in a scissoring motion to stretch you out.

"You think y're gonna find someone who can do this?" Toji looked up at you, his fingers curling up to hit that spongy spot inside of you almost perfectly. And if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say that he looked vulnerable while he made the question. Toji's lips wrapped around your clit, gently sucking on it as his fingers worked you closer and closer to your orgasm. You couldn't bring yourself to answer—didn't trust yourself to speak.

"Toji, Toji, gonna cum," you gave him a warning, your jaw falling slack and your lips parting in a o-shape. Soundless moans leaving your lips, feeling that coil in your lower tummy start to tighten up all the much more. With one final pump of his fingers, you were covering his lips with your release. His tongue swiped across his lips, across the scar that he hated, collecting every drop. Savoring what he imagined would be the last taste of you.

"Turn around," It was almost embarrassing how quickly you'd turned around per your soon-to-be ex husband's request.

Toji didn't take more than a couple seconds in unbuttoning his pants and taking them off, his cock hitting his stomach once it was released from its confines. Precum dribbled from his annoyingly almost pretty pink tip, dripping onto the floor. Drip. Drip. Drip. His cock slid through your folds like a slip n slide, your previous orgasm coating his tip with every lazy drag. "Toji," your voice bordered on a whine, pushing your hips to try to meet his movements.

"Tell me what you want," Toji clicked his tongue, one of his hands moving to hold your waist. Keeping you completely still until he got what he wanted. You figured there wasn't any harm in whining—you were already fucking the man after you brought up a divorce. There truly wasn't that much more to lose. "Why do I have to ask for it when you're the one apologizing?"

"Because you're the one pushing your hips back against me. All needy 'n shit. So.. beg."

"Want you inside me, Toji. Please."

"Want?"

You let out a huff before correcting yourself, "Need."

"Come on, doll. You can say it nicer than that, right?" Toji's pointer trailed up your torso, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

So goddamn annoying. You swallowed whatever pride you had left before looking back over at him, "Please, Toji. Need your cock in me. Please."

Toji clicked his tongue, one hand wrapping around his cock and giving himself a couple tentative pumps. "Think you can beg better than that. But since I'm feeling nice, I guess I'll let it slide." So much for feeling apologetic. Toji pushed his cock inside of you in one swift motion, a hiss leaving your lips at the stretch. Even with the fingers that'd been inside of you, nothing could've really prepared you.

"You okay?" Toji dropped his head to rest on your shoulder, whispering the words in your ear. Staying still while your walls tried to adjust to the overwhelming stretch. "You try taking your cock," you muttered dryly, giving him a nod to start moving. "Why would I do that when you take it so well?" Toji pushed the rest of his cock inside, his hands resting on your hips.

Toji wasn't particularly known for being gentle—the one hospital visit after he'd injured your cervix more than enough proof of that, but he started off slow. Slow, shallow thrusts. Fucking you in a way that he hasn't since your honeymoon. "Toji, you can speed up," you assured him, your words getting cut off with a smack to your ass. "What I'd say about tellin' me what to do?" Ah, there was the mean Toji that you recognized.

"Wouldn't need to tell you what to do if my vibrator wasn't looking more appealing right now."

Famous last words.

The change was almost immediate. Mascara dribbled down your cheeks, the sight of your once composed makeup all ruined making Toji's cock twitch inside of you. "Fucking pretty like this, y'know?" His teeth sunk down on the junction of your shoulder, his teeth grazing across the sensitive flesh. His hips snapped roughly into yours, your breathing growing erratic. "Fuck, Fuck, Toji!"

The coldness of his gold wedding band hit your skin as soon as he went to grip your hips, holding you against him like he needed to be close to you. The two of you had been distant for some time and he hadn't bothered to take off his wedding band once, not even on the rare occasion that he actually did happen to take a job. Toji would never admit it, of course—but he was starved for the feeling of your skin against his own.

To confirm that you were still here after all.

Your hands reached out to grab to whatever you could grab—anything, and of course, it just happened to be the divorce papers sitting on the middle of the table. Practically taunting you as your own signature glared back at you. "This good enough for you, princess?" Toji taunted in your ear, his blunt fingernails digging into your sides. "Mhm, j-just like that," your voice came out in a mewl, all bits of defiance completely out of your system.

"There you go. Nasty fucking girl," Toji all but purred in your ear the moment you started to jerk your hips back to meet his own, your ass bouncing with each one of his thrusts. "Just needed Toji to take care of ya," all you could was nod your head fervently, your grip on the divorce papers tightening. And Toji, of course, took notice. He took the papers from you with one hand, giving them a once-over before passing them back over.

"Come on, since ya wanted it so bad, read me those divorce papers," Toji handed you the stack of papers, pointing to where you'd signed your initials just a couple hours prior. Your hands shook as you held the papers, your vision blurry as you tried to make out the legal jargon in front of you. Even the simplest of words seemed all too complicated to try to make out.

"T-Toji, I can't," your voice cracked, your grip on the papers tightening when his cock reached all that much deeper inside of you. Toji clicked his tongue, peering over your shoulder to read the first sentence from the document. "That's not what it says ma, try again."

"Without all the stuttering too."

You took a deep breath, willing yourself to focus on the words in front of you instead of Toji's cock sinking further and further into you. "S-Says that the divorce agreement was made today between us," you clutched the sheets tighter, your eyes almost rolling back when Toji bottomed out inside of you. The tip of his cock dripping precum, your walls fluttering as you tried to get adjusted.

"Mm, yeah, keep goin'," Toji really couldn't care—his focus solely on the way that your cunt stretched out to fit his cock. Leaking around his shaft, loud squelches when he pulled out overplaying whatever shitty soap opera was playing. "And what'd I say about the s-stuttering?" Toji mocked your words, his own hips stuttering mere seconds later while he tried not to get absorbed in your cunt. Not that it was an easy task by any means.

It was hard, especially with the way that you claimed to be over this marriage despite your pussy claiming otherwise. When you opened your mouth to speak, the only thing that left you was a moan. "F-Fuck Toji, right there," your eyes shut tightly at the touch of his calloused hand making itself in between your legs, his thumb rubbing at your clit in a speed that felt like it combated his own running abilities.

"That's not what it says, c'mon," Toji grabbed your chin with his thumb and pointer, turning your head to face the overwhelmingly long divorce papers. You wouldn't finish tonight if he intended for you to read the whole thing, you knew that much. A harsh slap against your swollen clit made the pleasure coursing through your veins mix with pain, a shaky gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips.

Drool leaked from the corner of your mouth, the black ink smearing with each drop that fell from your parted lips. Your walls enveloped every inch of his cock perfectly, your cunt holding his cock in a vice-like grip. "That I won't try to t-take your things," you managed to get out, hoping that it would be good enough. You knew the two of you wouldn't finish today if he made you read the never ending stack of papers.

"Good enough," Toji sounded like he would've kept it going if he could, but you set them down as quickly as he spoke. It was almost like Toji was trying to remind you of why you'd fallen in love with him in the first place—the man reverent to your cunt and your cunt only. Every grip of your hips kept you closer and closer to his body, almost as a way for Toji to make sure you weren't slipping away.

"Wh—" Before you had the chance to complain about the loss of contact, Toji had already carried you without a smidge of struggle. His hands hooked underneath your plush thighs, hoisting you up against the wall. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his slutty waist, practically clinging onto him like a koala. "There we go, there's that pretty lil face," Toji placed his pointer underneath your chin, taking in the view in front of him.

The glazed over look in your eyes, the sweat beading up on your forehead, the makeup that he'd successfully ruined—everything about you was just so beautiful. How you tried to avoid looking in his direction for too long. "Don't leave me ma, need you in my life," the words were whispered into your ear, his cock pushing back inside of you in one swift motion. Toji's fingers went back to your throbbing clit, his pointer and middle rubbing against it at the perfect speed.

Not too fast, not too slow, and not too rough.

"Don't ask me to do that," you almost sounded pained as you spoke—not from him filling you up, but for the implication of his words. You'd practically babble anything right now, anything for him to keep going. To forget about the reality that awaits the two of you. Toji's lips found yours in an instant, the exchange between the two of you almost depraved. His mouth was feverish in the way that it moved against yours, like he'd never get the chance again.

Your hand went to the back of his head, pushing him closer against you. Letting yourself forget for just a little while longer. A string of saliva connected your lips to his when you pulled away—only to catch air. "I’m close, Toji, so close," you whined against his lips, your release coating his shaft a mere moments later. Toji only used that as lubricant, his movements quicker against your cunt to chase his own release.

"There's no one else for me, I'll stop goin' to t-the casino, stop gettin' into trouble," Toji had been reduced to a babbling the first thing he pulled out of his ass, if only to get you to stay. His head rested against the junction of your neck, basking in the remnants of proximity that he could get. Shaky breaths left his lips with each thrust of his hips, feeling himself getting closer and closer. "You've been saying that since we've been married."

"I mean it this time, I promise," you'd never heard a lie sound so pretty slipping from someone's lips before until now.

He bit down on the side of your neck, hard. Not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to where you'd probably have to use a tube of concealer to even attempt to cover up the bruising mark. Causing you problems even now. But you'd be lying if the sudden act of possessiveness had your walls clenching against him even tighter, if that was even possible anymore.

His cock was barely moving against the tight grip you held around his shaft, his pace stuttering. "Fuck, fuck, so tight," Toji let out a loud groan, completely at the will of your pussy. He threw his head back, a light shade of pink dusting his cheeks in this lighting. Ropes and ropes of cum decorated your cunt, his softening length snug inside of you. Toji ended up pulling out a couple moments later, scooping the drops of cum that leaked down your thighs with his finger.

Toji was shameless in the way that he stuck the finger in his mouth, a low moan leaving his lips at the combined taste of him and you. Before your rationality came back, before you got the chance to even think about regretting this, you leaned in and crashed your lips against his own. Tasting yourself on his tongue. The kiss lingered between the two of you more than it needed to, it was less rushed than the prior ones you'd shared.

Like a last taste.

"So, you still want to get that divorce?" Toji knew you would've just babbled whatever for him to keep going, saving the question until now. His movements were almost reluctant as he pulled his pants over his legs once again, making little attempt to fix up his hair. If anything, his fingers only ended up messing the strands even more. Despite knowing the answer deep down, Toji still held out hope. That maybe you'd had some eye-opening moment while he was balls-deep.

You stood up properly, looking over at the ruined sheets on the table before looking back over at him. "I do," you spoke after a couple seconds, grabbing your tattered panties from the floor and smoothing over your dress. Trying to maintain whatever semblance of dignity you had left. Even if it was probably just as tattered up as your underwear at this point.

"Why? You know I love you. You know that you love me. So why should we get separated?" You did know that. But you also weren't sure that he'd ever loved you enough to consider changing. To consider the fact that you needed some sort of affection outside of sex.

"Because you think that somehow every problem between us can be resolved with sex. You say that you want to do better and yet, you never do. It doesn't even feel like you're my husband half of the time," all the bottled up feelings from the past couple months spilled out of you in a manner of seconds. All the bottled up thoughts that maybe you should've told your husband about earlier. Though, you weren't even sure if Toji would've paid it any mind.

And almost as if he'd read your train of thought, "Why didn't you tell me about all this before just hittin' me with divorce papers?"

"Because the few times that I did, you told me to stop bitching. That I shouldn't have anything to complain about with a roof over my head and a fridge full of food," you started off, almost waiting for him to deny what you were saying, "And while I'm not saying that I'm not thankful for those things, I also don't want to feel ungrateful for saying that I miss my husband."

Silence lingered between the two of you, each second that passed by only confirming what the two of you already knew by now. That a divorce wasn't such a far-fetched idea. Toji knew there wasn't left to even attempt fighting for, so he simply just told you, "I'll sign 'em when you get the new ones."

79 notes · View notes

ryleektv · 1 day ago

Note

Can you write something for Lorenzo Berkshire and have it be where he love it when you wear pink? Like it’s his favorite color on you! Like one day when y’all are in his or your room and y’all are making out and then he sees you wearing a pink bra and then he checks to see if it’s a set and it is! So then it just leads to smut! If you don’t want to write this I’d understand.

AHHHHH omg the fact that i got this the SAME day i dressed up in all pink to go watch wicked is INSANE (wicked is absolutely amazing btw) like full glinda coded eyeshadow and pink eyeliner and everything. also i am sick (AGAIN, ive quite literally been sick constantly for the past 3 months bc my immune system might as well not exist)

anyways i hope this is good enough pooks

Favorite Color

(on his favorite girl)

bf!lorenzo berkshire x f!reader

WARNINGS: smut, unprotected p in v, fingering, ummm biting?, whipped Lorenzo, not proofread, lowkey not Toxic!Lorenzo??? SUMMARY: Lorenzo's favorite color was famously red. But on you? Pink all the way.

WC: 1.4k

"Hey, princess- okay then." Lorenzo stopped in the doorway, his hands up as he dodged the shoe you threw in his direction. "Why're you so pissed off, hm?"

You groaned out incoherent swears at him before flopping over onto your back, leaving you bed sheets warm where you had been. "What do you want?"

"To spend time with my beautiful sweet girlfriend and find out who pissed in her tea?" He questioned as he took a careful step forward. "What can I do, honey?"

"I don't know." You mumbled with a heavy sigh. "Don't hate me, but I don't think I wanna do date night out tonight."

Lorenzo took another few steps before sitting down at the edge of the bed, his thumb delicately brushing your cheek.

"I'd never hate you. You sure you don't want to go out? I know you love getting all dressed up to show off."

You watched him carefully as his fingers traced over your t-shirt. You'd gotten half way ready, your hair and makeup done perfectly, before you realized that not only was your dress in need to be washed, but it was pouring out, and your picnic date was a complete waste.

Lorenzo, of course, was quick to call and ask if you wanted to just go get dinner at a restaurant instead, to which you agreed. But, none of your other clothes seemed good enough, and to make matters even worse, you found out last minute that you flunked on an important Potion's exam.

"I don't even have anything to wear," You complained quietly, resting your head on his thigh and tugging the blankets back up so you'd stay warm.

He looked over at the piles of clothes thrown everywhere, but like a smart man, didn't say anything.

"Can we just stay in tonight?"

"Of course,"

"That is not realistic, I mean, who the hell stabs someone like that? And- and blood doesn't just spurt our like that unless you hit an artery." Lorenzo tutted, still tracing circles on your shoulder with the tip of his index finger. "That's just not how it works."

You looked up at him with furrowed brows, your head rested on his chest as you watched the horror movie on the screen with your boyfriend. "Why the hell do you suddenly know so much about the logics of stabbing? Should I be concerned, Enzo?"

"No, I'm just saying. There's science behind this stuff, and if the were really that interested in spending what I assume to be millions on making this movie, you'd think they would at least put a little research into it."

"You're psychotic."

"It turns you on, though." He looked down at you as he wiggled his eyebrows jokingly.

You rolled your eyes with a smile and turned back to the television and watched as the killer proceeded to drag the protagonists dead body towards the woods.

"Deny it, maybe?"

You burst out laughing and looked up at Enzo who was watching you with a mixture of concern and amusement. "Oh, baby, I'm not denying shit."

Lorenzo's brown eyes stared down at you with a sparkle you could recognize from a mile away, his lips brushing up into a smirk.

"Enzo," You whispered, fully intending to spur him on.

His lips immediately crashed to yours, his hands tugging you closer as yours went to his hair.

You let out a soft sigh, eliciting a quiet groan from Lorenzo as he seemed to try to pull you impossibly closer to him. You could feel him already touching all over you, exploring every inch of your body as if it was his first time near a woman.

Still continuing your quickly escalating make-out session, he maneuvered the two of you so he was propped up over your body, his teeth nipping at you bottom lip before his tongue met yours in a familiar dance.

His hands came back to your hair, stroking over it as you pulled at him, both of you already breathing heavily into each other's mouths, gasping in each other's air as it got hotter.

And because Lorenzo would rather die than do it himself, you gently pushed him up so the two of you could breathe properly for a moment, his wild eyes staring down into yours as he gasped for breath, his lips swollen and wet as he grinned.

"Go lock the door," You murmured, four words that drove him mad, quickly scrambling off of you and practically running to the door as he fumbled with the buttons of his shirt.

If only he'd put as much effort into his school work as he did locking the door when you'd ask.

You sat up slightly, pulling the oversized t-shirt over your head to reveal the pink lace bra you'd planned to wear for your restaurant date.

Lorenzo shuddered out a breath as his eyes dropped to the bra, lips parted slightly as his eyes softened. "Fucking hell,"

His gaze hovered over your breasts before looking up at you with a questioning whisper, "Is it?"

"Why don't you come see for yourself?" You grabbed his belt loop with your middle finger, pulling him over to you before rejoining your lips with his as he climbed back over you, smiling into the kiss as you lifted your hips to help as he slowly pulled down your shorts.

You watched as his eyes darkened at the sight of your matching pink panties, Enzo's fingers rubbing slow circles on your clit over the fabric as you let out a soft sigh of relief.

"I don't think I tell you enough how beautiful you are." He mumbled against your lips as he slowly pushed the fabric of your panties to the side and easily pushed two fingers into you.

You let out a gasping moan, pulling on his hair as he curled his fingers hard inside of you, picking up the pace as flashes of heat grew all over your body in pulses.

"Enzo- shit- fuck me, please just-" You cut off with a whimper. "Just fuck me already." You practically pleaded as your eyes welled up with tears at the pleasure of his fingers curling perfectly inside you, his thumb starting up rough circles on your clit.

Lorenzo must have been like a dog in heat tonight, because he was clearly too desperate to make you beg, instead just undoing his belt and pulling off his pants and boxers faster than you'd ever seen him before.

His tip pressed against your entrance as he rested his forehead against yours, letting out a groan as he slipped in, your back arching at the perfect fit.

"Oh, fuck, Enzo," You breathed, arms wrapping over your shoulders as he started slowly thrusting in and out of you.

He buried his face into the crook of your neck, gently biting at your flesh as he sped up. "You feel so good, princess."

Your head tipped back as you felt his fingers speeding up as they circled your clit again, making the knot in your stomach form far faster than usual.

You pressed your hips back against his, meeting it time with his thrusts and pushing him deeper inside of you as you listened to his moans pressed into your skin, your own mouth agape as you whined at the sharp tug of your skin between his teeth.

"Oh, Gods, Enzo- Enzo, I'm so fucking close." You moaned into his hair, nails digging into his tensed back as you closed your eyes, legs shaking slightly.

"C'mon, I've got you." He pulled away from your neck, kissing the corner of your mouth. "I am too."

With one more thrust you tipped over the edge, vision going blank as you gave way to the waves of please, heat coursing through your body as if your blood was replaced with lava, chest heaving as tears slipped past your waterline, rolling down your cheeks before Lorenzo gently kissed them away.

You wrapped your legs tighter around Lorenzo as he was about to pull out, interrupting his panicked glance, "I'll get a vial." You breathed, with less than a second difference before he was finishing inside of you, the both of you moaning at the feeling.

Lorenzo flopped down on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist as his face buried in your chest. "I love you,"

You brushed back his hair with the tips of your fingers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "I love you, too, Enzo."

i kinda hate this too but thats okay bc i wrote it was 3am and thats excuse enough

requests are open as always and i promise i am in fact still working on a slytherin boys christmas im just severely behind

#lorenzo berkshire #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x reader #enzo berkshire #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire smut

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yourivyygrow · 3 days ago

Text

SIREN SONG | counting summers, part 0

previous | next (coming soon)

your therapist-assigned vacations take a turn for the stranger when you discover an all-too-familiar compass in the local antique shop.

series: counting summers, book one: the pull of the tide, szn one: where the current takes us

pairing: jj maybank x fem!reader

wordcount: 5.7k

warnings: parental neglect, references to depression, semi-explicit description of a suicide attempt

a/n: big project incoming lmaoo

THE HEAT IN your room was high enough to kill, you thought as you mindlessly clicked on the 'Next Episode' button.

North Carolina wasn't especially known for its remarkable hotness but the coast nearing summer? That was something else. The tank top and the jean shorts you sport on stuck to your skin like glue and if you wore any thinner or shorter, you'd probably end up being arrested for public indecency. As a whole, you weren't a big fan of the heat.

You weren't a big fan of anything, really. That's why your parents dragged you here.

"Y/N?" Called your mom's voice through the door after a few knocks. "Are you awake?"

You quickly glanced at the time. 4pm. She probably knew you were, but the number of times you slept through the day to escape it for a few hours were too numerous to count. You didn't resent her for asking. "Yeah," your answer was short, like usual when speaking to her. Waiting for her to talk again, you pressed pause on the beginning of the episode you were going to watch.

There was a short blank, you almost thought she left until she spoke up. "We need you to watch the house while your dad and I go down to the market. Can you do that?"

You sighed. Of course it was a demand. It always was. "Sure. Enjoy."

Your mom didn't say anything else, and your heard her steps going down the stairs leading to the living room of your AirBNB. Soon enough your dad and her will be slamming the front door shut and leaving you alone once more on the trip that was supposed to be for you.

I mean, it didn't surprise you, but you thought they would have hid their disdain a little better.

You never had a really good relationship with your parents. I mean, you were pretty sure you were an accident even though they didn't confirm it to you. This distant, cold, bordering on professional relationship with them took a turn for the worse when you grew up ─ and the thing was that you couldn't exactly pinpoint when. It just happened, along with the slow decline of your mental health.

Your dad was a passive presence in your life. He just wasn't there most of time: a quick hi and bye when you got in and out of school and asking to sign your failed tests which he didn't glance at twice. That's fine, in theory. Your mom was something else, though.

The more you grew up, the more you became sure that she had something against you. A type of intergenerational resentment, you thought, but you gave up analyzing that long ago. That's what your therapist advised you.

Which is why you were going to push all of that aside and resume your episode.

The characteristic sound of Outer Banks' opening music echoed through your headphones, calming your palpitating heart. John B's, well, more like Chase Stokes' voice followed soon enough, doing his classic narration at the beginning of the episode. That's what you liked so much about the show, the naturalness of it. It was sort of like watching someone read a diary.

Outer Banks wasn't your kind of show at all, which is why you didn't jump of it when it first appeared on Netflix in 2020. You were more of a fantasy drama kind of girl. The longest interaction you had with the media was probably when you lingered on the announcement of season 4 two months ago. Maybe it was a sign - because a week later, your therapist strongly advised you (more like ordered if you were asked) to go on vacations. Your mom jumped at the opportunity to "see a little of the coast" without asking much of your opinion or your dad's. So here you were, in North Carolina, in the actual, real life Outer Banks.

The only reason you picked it up was because you thought it would be funny considering your situation. A little taste of what it would be like. You started it a few days before taking your flight - turns out you stayed awake all night finishing season one because holy shit, was it addictive. You immediately understood why it got the success it did. So season two was downloaded and binged on the road as well as in plane, and you were set on finishing it today, as well as starting the third season. It's not like you had anything else to do, your mom clearly had plans of her own when it came to this trip and didn't try to include you in the slightest. You suspected, basically knew, the only reason she was there was for the vacations and only programmed them under the orders of your therapist to give herself some comfort about being a... well, shitty mom. No other way to say it.

It was fine, though. Now you were on the last episode and entirely hooked. A part of you didn't really want to keep on watching it - it meant one season less until you had to wait to season four to come out, until you had to say goodbye to the universe you got attached to for a little while. You had the bad habit to do that, get emotionally devoted to fictional universe and fall into heartbreak when it ended. It was way less scary than real life, you thought, but a thousand time more painful.

The other part of you, though, was dying to see how the season would conclude. That's the part who took over, against your better judgement.

The music stopped, the episode carried on and your focus wasn't wavered by the clinking of the front door keys.

When people said they needed to reconnect with nature after something truly fucked happened, you thought they were joking. You never really experienced that apart from when you finished a really good book and had to spend one hour looking at a wall to compose yourself - it wasn't the same thing, was it?

The season two finale of Outer Banks had made you go into complete lethargy. And by lethargy I mean wide eyes, mouth agape, looking at the ceiling-lethargy. The black credit scene stared back at you like some kind of taunt, contrasted by the tempting white 'Next Episode' button. But you needed some time to gather your thoughts after... all of this.

You didn't hear your parents leaving. You were way too entraced in this one hour of pure adrenaline (by proxy, true, but it was still adrenaline) that you missed yelling at your mom to leave you the front door keys ─ you didn't expect her to remember by herself, and even you reminded her once you had to do it twice just in case. She had a good memory, except when it came to you. So, technically, you were stuck at the AirBNB until your parents came back.

But expecting you wouldn't find a way to go out was severely underestimating someone who seeked escapism in her own house.

You needed to breathe fresh air. Fiction affected your reality more than you liked to admit, sometimes taking more space than not, and the emotional rollercoaster you just went through was in desperate want of an outlet. It's with your heart thumping in your chest and your mind still hazy that you opened the kitchen's window downstairs and, as graceful as a whale out of the water, sneaked out of the house.

Usually, you were pretty good at sliding off soundly. The numbers of time you spent your sleepless evenings on the hidden corner of your house's rooftop were too uncountable by their recurrence. The numbers of time you actually went away to walk around the neighborhood for hours on end without your parents noticing were even bigger. You blamed your lack of grace as you fell from the window to the grass on the overwhelming heat.

After wiping any mud, dirt and green stains off you, you took a road you now knew too well. You didn't really explore your side of the Outer Banks, mainly because it didn't interest you much, you much preferred staying in the walls of your assigned room. But during one of the mandated visits your mom dragged you to so you could report at least something to your therapist, a small, broken down shop caught your eye almost immediately.

Your AirBNB was situated in a little coastal town, not far away from beaches and cliffs, big enough to have some well known shops, tourists attractions and bars, but not quite enough to be considered a city yet. Headphone on, blasting music, it took you a little below ten minutes to walk to the main street, still bustling with local life: street vendors were slowly packing up for the day while the food stands still held up, the strong aroma of spicy seafood seeking your nostrils, almost nauseating by its intensity. People with shopping bags pushed past you like they didn't see you, children were laughing and running around the surf shop at the end of the street - but that's not where you were headed.

You took a left turn into a much smaller, incommodious street that you'd definitely be way more scared to take at night. The sun was still bright in the sky due to the season, though, so you walked through it with your mind still reeling from the finale of your show.

The Pogues were stranded on an island, Poguetopia as they way too enthuastically called it. And Big John Routledge was alive, apparently? What was with dads and dying just to come back in this show. If your dad had to go in mysterious circumstances, you'd prefer he'd stay gone. Sometimes you thought your mom shared your opinion.

You finally arrived to the place you were looking for: Arianne's Lost and Found Antique Shop. A lirtle smile stretched your lips. It didn't look like much: the wooden insigna was mostly ate down my mices and the construction of the small shack made you wonder how it survived the tropical storms washing over the coast. Vines were growing on its facade, the smell of sea salt strongly emanated from the planks. The shop had this strange charisma to it, drawing you off the main street the first time. And the second. By the third time, Arianne knew you by name and because of that, you felt the obligation to come back every few days, if not every. Also because it was the only spot you didn't feel out of place.

The bell of the windowed front door rang aggressively when you pushed it open. The smell of sand and old books hit your nose instantly, a small comfort as you shivered slightly - the shop's interior was downright cold despite not having any air conditioning, and the never ending antique bookshelves lining the walls didn't do anything to bring warmth to the room.

A raspy, high-pitched voice rose up from behind a worryingly tall pile of clothes. "Y/N? Is that you, baby?"

"Who else?"

The tall figure of Arianne, the legend in the flesh, withdrew from behind the piled-up clothes. She was a lanky, dark-skinned woman with waist-lenght black and pepper curls. Her eyes, tired by age, sparked with kindness and mischief and while her cane was holding most of her weight, she still moved with a swift assurance that made you look twice when she passed by. When her eyes set upon you, a vivid smile lit up her face.

"What are you implying about my shop?" She asked, quirking an eyebrow.

"Oh nothing, nothing..." You swiped your finger on a nearby shelf, covering it in dust, before looking back at Arianne expectantly.

The old woman raised her cane as if to hit you. "Why, you little-"

You sidestepped her as a chuckle escaped you. Soon enough, she let out a huffy laugh herself. Not a lot of tourists knew about the Lost and Found due to its... dubious placement. Athe locals seemed to avoid it like the plague. Business was bad, to say the least, and she knew it. You don't know how Arianne kept afloat and sometimes you told yourself you didn't want to know ─ at least, she knew the jokes were all in good fun.

"Some sketchy men came by yesterday night with some shit they left back there, if you're interested," she offhandedly said.

And obviously, your attention was caught by her words like a fish on a hook. "Really?"

"Would I lie about more junk cluttering this place?"

She nudged your foot with her cane in the direction of the new arrival. Without awaiting more words from the woman, you walked toward the back, dodging the multiple boxes filled to the brim with rusty silver plates and yellow partition papers. Ever since you discovered the Lost and Found there had been no new donations, you assumed because it was because its unpopularity. Turns out you were wrong.

When you reached the wooden walls alcove at the end of the shop, you were faced with a myriad of disarranged items spread out on a wavering table, varying in sizes and apperances but all sharing one similarity: the undeniable charm of being lost at sea. Arianne was quick behind you. "The guys who dropped this off were searching from some treasure, or something like that."

Your eyes were still fixed on the table in front of you when you answered. "Doesn't look like they found it."

"You tell me. Some of those things actually look kinda interesting, though. Didn't have time to look at 'em properly," said Arianne. "Made me think about you and your little show with all that treasure hunting."

You huffed. With your aversion of talking about yourself or any kind of small talk, obviously the topic you'd bring when you reluctantly had an interaction with someone would be your current fictional obsession. Or just plain silence. But this time it was the first case, right now it being Outer Banks. Most of the time people didn't stick by long enough for you to get talkative and speak up about it, or they would leave halfway through. But Arianne didn't, she let you rant about it for a week straight and seemed to enjoy when you briefed her about the last episodes you watched. It might have to do with how she didn't know how to make Netflix work - but you preferred lying to yourself and pretend she was actually interested.

"Thanks Arianne," you muttered.

With a wave of the hand, she shunned your gratitude aside. "Bah! No need to thank me for that garbage."

You didn't add anything else. With the tip of your fingers, you traced what looked like a small, rusty anchor, engraved with a delicate wheat symbol. After a comfortable silence, Arianne spoke up again.

"Anyways, I have some paperwork to get back to in the office. You'll tell me about the next episodes you watched when you'll be done looking through all that."

She turned around as you nodded without thinking, way too entranced by the objects already. Before leaving, she added, "Oh, and if you could sort stuff out. Would appreciate it."

She withdrew in a little corridor leading to her office. You didn't mind at all. A business, even failing, was still a business.

Plus, you had much to keep you occupied.

A gun to your temple wouldn't get you to admit it to anyone else but yourself but back when you were still holding on to school and your passions, you were a bit of a history nerd. Not the big parts of history, but the small, obscure parts nobody cared much about: the pirates, the lost treasures, the lost myths, legends and sea goddesses. That's one of the main part of Outer Banks that hooked you. It reminded you of you, a few years back. Before everything

You started looking through the mess of silver, plated gold and rust. They were beautiful, their sheen a little tainted by time and salt water, yes, but still beautiful. In your eyes at least.

Rummaging through them was an arduous task as some of them seemed to be tangled together (and good luck detangling metal) but somehow you enjoyed it. Organizing them by color, type, time they might have been lost... you liked it, the order. You didn't consider it as a job when Arianne asked you to arrange her messiest piles of clutter, which is why you refused the money she offered you the first time. You just appreciated being in contact of history, as insignificant as it was, and the satisfaction of putting everything where it should be.

An hour must have passed, maybe a little more: the sun was visibly declining in the sky through the window, painting the dark room in soft shades of yellow and orange. You were almost done sorting through everything: to your surprise ─ note the sarcasm ─ not a lot of interesting things came out of it. Old cutlery, navigation tools too damaged to be considered worthwhile... a big pile of nothings. But it kept you entertained for a bit.

That's when the sun fell low enough to hit something on the far end of the table, catching the corner of your eye. A small glimpse, so very little you could've missed it by blinking. Curiosity took over your being - you were pretty sure you didn't notice anything of the sort before.

Reaching out your hand, you took a hold of it.

A compass.

It was average-sized and not as rusty as the other objects, so it must have not been in contact with the sea water for as long. An intricate design was engraved on the gold of the cover, with different flowers, accompanied by a line of text around it you couldn't quite make out. It looked strangely familiar, to the point your stomach flipped a little at the first observation.

You clicked on the button at the top to open it. The inside was quite... normal: the usual arrows, lines and whatnots. Except that, while you weren't a navigator, you were grown up enough to know that one of the arrows wasn't pointing north at all. Which was too bad because it was the entire point of a compass. Must be broken.

It hits you when you close it, like a speeding truck, your reflection staring back at you through the engravings. You knew exactly where the sense of familiarity came from.

The compass you had in your hand was too alike, down to every points, to the one John B inherited from his dad in Outer Banks. The one that kickstarted the whole show.

Your jaw dropped open. Outer Banks wasn't filmed in the actual Outer Banks, that you knew, because they mainly shot in South Carolina. But you assumed some scenes must have taken place in North Caroline because you were pretty sure that what you had in your hands was an official prop - I mean, that's the only thing it could be, right? How would a random compass dropped in the sea could look so much like John B's? Maybe they lost it while filming a boat or sea scene and it got washed up by the tide, who knows.

You almost fell while hurrying to Arianne's office. Luckily, she seemed to be getting out at the same time. She stared you down as you stood in front of her, not uttering anything. You didn't even know what you were going to say. You just wanted to show her. "Are you okay? Do I have something in my tee- Sweet Jesus, did you break something?!" She immediately started walking to the alcove you just left.

You put yourself in her way. "No, no, I didn't break anything. I just- I found something."

"Something valuable?" She asked, an eager smile finding its way to her lips.

"Uh... depends on what you call valuable?"

"I mean monetary value. Cash. Something that can help me pay rent, baby."

You didn't answer. Instead, you showed her your hand.

The smile on Arianne's lips faltered almost immediately. If you were being honest, you'd think it's because it was only some piece of junk among other things for her ─ except that for you it wasn't. At all.

She carefully took it in her palm. "A... compass. Where did you find it?" The woman toyed with it as if it was made of glass.

"In the stuff you showed me." Arianne sighed. You didn't pay it any mind, choosing to continue. "Listen, it looks like an exact copy of the one in the TV show I'm always telling you about, y'know? I think it might be like, a lost prop or something and-"

You stopped abruptly when you saw Arianne's eyes. You were pretty perceptive of other's emotions and right now, it looked like everything in her world broke inside her eyes the moment you said your sentence. You stood there, awkwardly, as she was detailing you. Then the compass. You. The compass. "Uh... did I say something wrong?"

She snapped back to her normal self, as if on cue. "No, no baby absolutely not. I'm just... happy to see you this joyful. It doesn't happen a lot except for when you tell me about that show of yours."

This made the situation even more awkward for you. God, you hated when people said that: pitying you so openly. 'We know you're miserable but hey! At least sometimes you seem happy, it means you're on the way to be fixed!'. Like there was something to fix. Well, apparently there was, and it could be resolved in a two weeks trip.

You chose to push your thoughts aside with a shake of the head. Opening your mouth, you were getting ready to ask her about holding on to it, fueling your Netflix-induced obsession in the process. Arianne anticipated it.

"You can keep it." She hastily spoke, putting the compass back in your hand like it burnt her.

This time, you were the one looking at the compass then back at her. "Really?" You were stunned that Arianne, out of all people, would give away something from her shop that easily.

"Yeah. As a thanks for keeping an old lady company," her palm wrapped over yours, folding your fingers around the object. "For helping with the shop and organizing my stuff."

Her voice was tight with emotions for a reason unknown to you. You didn't think it was that big of a deal but apparently she did, so you kept quiet whispering a muted 'Thank you'.

Taking back her hand, Arianne stood up a little straighter. "Anyways, you've been back there a while now. Better get home before it gets too dark. You never know what happens in the street these days, and your mother might barge in and accuse me of kidnapping."

You fought the urge to tell her that she didn't care enough to do it. A good point she made, though, was that walking all alone as a tourist and as a woman in the middle of night somewhere you barely knew directions never lead to anything good. So, as she slapped the back of your legs with her cane, you hurried your steps toward the front doors, exchanging thanks and casualties, never forgetting to tell her you'll be back tomorrow.

Before you left though, she called for you. "Y/N? Just... be careful with an old thing like that. Most often they tend to pull you places, whether you're ready for it or not."

What? You frowned, confused, but her ominous words were heard by one ear and left by the other the second you stepped outside.

You genuinely thought you knew the way from Arianne's Lost And Found Antique Shop to your house by heart.

Turns out you were miserable and arrogant. You were definitely lost. What a combo.

Maybe it was the setting darkness that confused you, the last fingers on sunlight warming up your bare arms as the cold night breeze slowly took over. The roads seemed to all look the same, the nightlife was surely taking on the bars and the dimly lit streets. You were starting to panic. Mainly because even though your parents wouldn't care much about you being gone, they would care about you coming back that late, through the kitchen window. You'd be in for a long, long monologue about irresponsability. Again.

Yeah, you didn't seem to be getting anywhere. Great. Amazing, even.

The compass you tied to the belt loop of your shorts prickled the skin underneath and the ghost of a grin appeared on your face. You had an actual prop from Outer Banks. How cool was that?

You carefully detached it, detailing it once again. The strange warmth from the metal seemed to spread from your palm to your fingertips, calling you to open it. Which you did like you were compelled to. Plus, it could eventually help you find some directions. Your AirBNB was probaly on the south-west or something like─

The arrow was definitely pointing south now.

You assumed it was broken earlier, it was stupid to think it would be magically fixed as soon as you stepped out of the store. You took a turn in another mystery street, trying to find any directions that could lead somewhere even a tiny bit familiar to you, eyes still fixated on the intricate drawings of the compass.

That was when the arrows shifted, gently, like they were pushed by the wind, to point the exact direction you strayed away from.

Your heart skipped beat. Acting on instinct and panic, you shook the compass - you didn't know why you did, actually, but it didn't change the fact the arrows wouldn't budge from the direction they shifted to. You walked a few, agonizingly slow, steps back, not to startle anyone that might... magically make the arrows move? Now you were overreacting.

Still, you stood on the exact spot where you pulled out the compass a few minutes ago and under your incredulous eyes, the arrows shifted again. When your head rose up from the tool to the environment around you they pointed to a little dirt road in front of you you hadn't seen before.

No other words could describe the situation other than creepy.

Your heart was hammering against your ribcage, dangerously threatening to burst out of it. The dark blue tint of the sky and the general silence of your surroundings didn't help your anxiety - or was it some sort of thrill? You didn't know. Nevertheless, the arrows pointed, taunting you by sitting motionless in their glass capsule.

You tentatively moved forward. You could've sworn for a second the little needles looked like they were trembling in agreement.

A part of you wanted to believe this weird compass that strangely looked like the one in your favorite TV show had a conscience of its own and was leading you to something. The other, more rational part of yourself was screaming about how delusional you sounded and that you should get home right now before getting jumped, mauled, assaulted or all three at the same time.

Except that what it called 'home' was a tiny house with a cracked yellow wallpaper and leaky sinks in which no one spoke to each other unless obligated to. Something your mom rented last minute without considering if you even wanted to go, still pretexting it was all for you. A blacked-out room and a screen that burnt your thighs due to overuse but the red scar it left felt more like love than the glances your parents threw your way. Four walls filled with a graveyard silence, you wished to scream into it sometimes but the voice just couldn't come out.

Seeking escapism from your own household, your own life, was what you did best. So you walked down that dirt road, an iron grip around the compass.

You followed its lead desperately, panting like a dog. Each of your steps quickened until you were running ─ you didn't even know where you were anymore, your phone probably ran out of battery by now, your headphones were hanging on for dear life around your neck and your hair was carried by the speed in which you moved. You passed by small, rural houses, hurried through a somber forest and almost slipped into mud, nearly colliding with a night owl and blindly obeying the compass' lead.

Until you were faced with the shore.

Your feet, aching from the run, stopped when the soft texture of the amber sand bent under them. It took a while for your mind to catch up with your body, but when it finally did, the last breaths you had in your lungs got knocked out of them: the sky was now of a deep ink, filled with clear, bright stars ─ which means you were far away enough from the main city to see them properly. The only source of light was the full moon, reflecting on the never ending sea unraveling in front of you. The beach seemed to extend for a while as well, and the slow hum of the waves was all you could hear apart from your ragged breathing. It was calm. Peaceful.

You peeked at the compass in your hand, hoping something would finally happen. This place looked like finality. Something happened alright: It stopped pointing and the arrows were spinning in erratic circles.

You swiftly closed the compass, tying it to your belt loop once again. No reactions would come out of your body even if you seeked one, you were too worn out. Walking from the treeline to the seaside like an automat, you let yourself fall on your back upon the sand, the water brushing your shoes when the tide rose up.

The stars looked down on your near breathless body. Tormenting you with their enormitude, their meaning, their greatness.

With nothing else around you but the shore, it struck you just how empty you were.

You don't know when it all fell down, if there ever was a reason - many people told you, at first, that you didn't need a reason to feel the way you did. That was when you tried to talk about it. But this thing inside of you, this black hole, relentless, just took more amplor as time went by. Sucking in everything inside of it. It lasted, and because of that you were now messy, lazy, disorganized. You couldn't take showers for weeks, you hadn't brushed your teeth in months, you wore the same clothes and didn't feel anything strongly enough to cry about it. You didn't have a reason, it made you selfish.

You didn't know if you were. You didn't know anything except the fact you didn't. Plato would be proud.

You gradually fell out of everything: you had hobbies, you had passions, you had people you could somewhat call friends, you had plans for the future until you simply didn't.

At first you tried to blame your parents. You tried to be angry at them, to yell and accuse: it came out in a whisper. You tried to gain their affection, their love, their care but how could you crave something you never experienced? You attempted to make them the perpetrators of the barrenness of your being but the trust was as simple as that: you were the only one guilty for letting the black hole grow until you became one with it.

You tried to kill yourself to see if it would do something interesting to your body.

You were just so numb, and nothing was holding you back, was it? Your grades were dwindling at a dizzying speed, crushing the chances to get into the college you used to dream about when you still went to school, your parents hadn't talked to you in three days, you missed your therapist appointments for a month. If you died, maybe something would finally jolt you back to life. The pills went down your throat so easily. You sat in your full bathtub, letting the splashes of water serenade you to Morpheus' arms.

After that everything was kind of a blur. You don't remember much of the hospital, the drive back home. Everything just fell back into place. You were still a painfully empty shell, only with one more story to tell.

Your therapist prescribed you those improvised vacations for this specific reason: to change your mind about being alive. The thing was you didn't want to die, but you weren't that attached to life either - you just were. Apparently it wasn't enough. It never was.

Dr. Sullivan, your therapist, told you this was why you grew so dependant to fiction. They did all the things you were scared to do: they fell in love in a mess of tears and hearbreak, they screamed until their throats gave out, they hated so brightly and cried so ugly. They lived and you didn't. You felt safe in the hollow. Untouched, unharmed. And you searched an exit sign.

She was wrong about that. About most things, really, you stopped listening to her a while ago. You didn't feel safe in the desolation, you were safe. You didn't hunt for an out, you've gotten used to it, why would you put yourself through the hardship of changing something so stable? The vacantness grew comfortable. It was just you, now. The endless black hole.

A cold tear fell down your cheek onto the sand. It was something that often happened: your body translated emotions your heart and guts didn't communicate to you. Unless it activated your fight-or-flight response, you automatically tried to push it down.

You would wipe it away but the run pumped you all out of strength: every muscles in your body implored for you to leave them alone, your mind was too exhausted to form coherent thoughts, let alone words, and your eyelids grew heavy and solid as rocks. You'd worry about the consequences of your action tomorrow morning. Even if, deep down, you knew no one concerned themselves enough with you for you to actually have an effect on the world.

The sound of the waves, growing more and more intense, coaxed you to sleep like a familiar lullaby. The feeling of the salt water brushing against your fingertips took the role of a blanket, if not a shield, against the rest of the world.

And just like that, you were gone.

#✎ obx #✎ jj maybank #» counting summers #» the pull of the tide #» where the current takes us #jj maybank x reader #obx x reader #outer banks #jj maybank #outer banks x reader #netflix #obx #reader insert #john b routledge #kiara carrera #pope heyward #sarah cameron #rafe cameron #isekai

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marciaillust · 1 day ago

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hey, i hope you're doing great! i feel this may be unorthodox, but i really wanted to reach out to extend my engagement?— awe?— solidarity?— (some variant of those, anyways) with your most recent "workposting" art. i don't normally do this. I've maybe sent 3 asks in my whole life. there's no pressure to respond to this, as i mostly just wanted to cheer you on. also, I'm really sorry this is so long.

i only just recently landed my very first freelance art job, at a start-up company dedicated to making comics + DND inspired art content. I've always felt that "Its nothing to call home about", and so i really resonated with your feelings regarding your work for Brawl Stars. I felt kind of ashamed of my job, that its just a small start up— that I'm not enough and that i should be trying harder, or something like that. Specifically i resonated with your comment of "presenting brawl stars art feels like showing my anime girl oc to an art teacher" and i don't think i could have solidified any better.

Anyways. all's to say. I really found your work quite jaw-dropping. I was shocked when i read it was for Brawl Stars. I didn't know anything about it, but when i did some research i was even more amazed. they're really, really compositionally beautiful... i mean, i know its just "work" to you ultimately, but it really does feel lively, and everything about it makes it feel like you care. I think sometimes you're just able to tell when an artist genuinely cares about their work; about its end outcome. there's so many intricacies. and a lot of attention to detail. you kept the style that was necessary of you but i also can feel the warmth and the care of the artist behind it— its not corporate, or stale, it doesn't come across as "just work".

since you mentioned League, i genuinely do think it serves an equal purpose and weight to what League of Legends would produce. from a biased standpoint, i would actually value your work more. Its not even that its "more obtainable"/"more realistic" but that there's genuinely more feeling to it. Compositionally/artistically, yeah, League makes great stuff, but occasionally, the feeling or the sense of warmth and care from the creator of the art is lost along the way. I value seeing the artist within their own art a lot, which is why I've admitted to a degree of bias. either way. what you put out there is really gorgeous, and crazy impressive.

I know a stranger with a dumb, fandom-oriented art blog cant solve the self-indited art elitism (you and me both, man💀) and that you've already received plenty of love/reblogs saying similar things, but i wanted to extend my feelings anyways. Its really heart-warming, i guess. It brings me hopefulness, and deep adoration for the craft. I'm not very good with words. Anyways. don't undersell yourself. seeing your work meant more to me than you can imagine. I'm obviously nowhere near your skill level, but it meant more to me as an aspiration. i think that regardless of who you work for, your work is really valuable and downright incredible. because you bring that sense of warmth, care, time, and patience regardless of the media it portrays. and you're able to do that while being objectively talented— utilizing great compositions, colour pallets, shading, characterization, mood, etc. That is more valuable. That is much much cooler than working for Riot. imo.

Initially, i also wanted to ask you some questions about how you assembled your portfolio, if you went to school, (if so) what it did/didn't provide for you going into the art field, and just how you landed the job in general. But i respect you and your time, and wouldnt want to be a burden or anything. If you ever have time for it, i would love to ask them, among others, and we can chat in DM if you'd prefer. Absolutely no pressure. Im happy just watching from the sidelines. I dont anticipate anything from you to begin with! I just hope youll know how influential your post was to read & see, to someone like me!

Oh man. I. How. Where do I even start except

This is one of the most uplifting, touching and encouraging messages I received in my life. I read it thrice. And I still can't believe how full of love it is. This is such high praise, I want you to know I will cherish it and carry it with me for a long long time. It's not often that an artist gets to learn how their art is perceived, not to mention in such a positive light. It really means a lot to me.

It makes me so happy to hear that my work illustrations retain a piece of me that is visible to others. I myself can't see it, but I imagine my closeness to the matter at hand heavily impacts my ability to see objectively at all. There was a time where I was worried that work was overriding the me that makes my art mine, that I was becoming a corporate rendering machine and that what I did at work (the shape language and style) was bleeding into my personal art. There is a part of me that is now breathing easier after reading your message. I would love to answer any questions you have, it's the least I can do to repay you! Feel free to send an ask or even an email, I'll try to be as thorough as I can be with my answers. I wish you happy holidays! Take care! And again thank you so much for taking the time to write this message!

#straight up had to pause a few time while reading your message to put my head on my knees and not. let a tear escape

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wilhelminyard · 1 day ago

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compilation of nice/sweet things the foxes said to neil because even though they're a bunch of assholes who'll insult anyone in their vicinity they all just love him so damn much (part 2) :

ANDREW :

"I'm not here for your entertainment" "but as expected you are talented enough to multitask"

"you are neil josten and I am still the man who said he would keep you alive. I don't care if you use this phone tomorrow. I don't care if you never use it again. but you are going to keep it on you because one day you might need it. on that day you're not going to run. you're going to think about what I promised you and you're going to make the call."

"I'm not afraid of you" "that's why you're so interesting"

DAN :

"don't thank us, remember us. we're your teammates. we're here to help you with whatever you need."

"you've got us now"

"that was perfect. but don't do something that reckless again. we can't replace you. hear me?"

"neil, you can use the girls' shower while we're busy"

MATT :

"just try not to think about it until we get there. you won't do yourself any favorite if you spend the ride stressing out about things you can't change."

"if you don't have anywhere to go, I'll drag you home with me"

KEVIN :

"if you get hurt out there, you do something about it. you take it easy, you have coach pull you, you ask abby for help - I don't care. if you ever say 'I'm fine' about your health again I will make you rue the day you were born"

"neil has no place in riko's games. he is a fox."

"run. it's the only way you'll survive"

"you should be court."

"will you still teach me?" "every night."

"I will watch you. if you want to drink tonight. I won't let you say something you'll regret." "you'll be drunk inside an hour. then who'll stop me?" "I would stop drinking."

"you're not going. do you know what he'll do to you?"

WYMACK :

"why did you pay for stalls coach?" "maybe I knew you'd need them one day"

"neil, if you can't be here say so. abby can take you elsewhere until it's time to leave. get out of here and get some fresh air."

"what can I do?" "I don't know" "when you know, tell me"

"sometimes the world feels so big but then I'm reminded how small it is" "big or small just remember you're not alone in it."

"if riko really was behind it somehow, the blame is all on him. he chose to take out his petty rage on seth. he chose to cross a line. you didn't. you hear me? you didn't. don't ever blame yourself for seth's death. that it too dangerous a road to walk down. you keep your eyes on your own path and keep moving forward"

"neil" "I'm fine" "be fine inside where it's warmer"

"look I know I've always told you all to take your personal problems up with betsy or abby. I've said it's not my place to get into anything outside the court. I hope you've figured out by now I'm just blowing hot air. I'm not real good at being a shoulder, but I do have a working set of ears."

"help me" "let me"

"this doesn't mean anything. I'm still a fox." "of course you are."

NICKY :

"kid you're killing me. why do you always get that deer-in-headlights look when someone does something nice for you?"

"you worry about neil's career. I'll worry about his personal happiness."

"I didn't really get into the gritty details last time because those aren't reallt dan and matt's business, but you're family, so I can tell you."

"there's obsession and there's dysfunction. you can't make exy your end-all be-all. this won't last forever, okay? you'll shine bright, then you'll retire, and then what? you gonna spend the rest of your life at home alone with all your trophies? you can't be just this, neil. this isn't enough to live for."

"thanks for taking one for the team, neil. you're a real friend."

"are we? friends?" "you are going to be the absolute death of me. yeah, kid. we're friends. you're stuck with us, like it or not."

"I only see that look on neil's face when someone tries to do something nice for him, but we all know kevin's as bratty as they come. what did you say, kevin, and do I need to defend neil's honor or what?"

RENEE :

"I am not the girl I once was but the shade of my old life will always existe inside of me. that is what helps me connect with andrew. I am hoping it will help me connect with you."

"I do not know your story. if you've trusted andrew with anything, he hasn't shared the details with me and he never will. but if you are as like us as we first predicted you to be, perhaps one day you can also come to see me as a friend."

"if either andrew or I can help you, please know we are here."

"and you neil? are you all right?"

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #andreil #david wymack #kevin day #aaron minyard #nicky hemmick #matt boyd #dan wilds #renee walker #allison reynolds #psu foxes #the foxes #the raven king

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kmt123whatsthetea · 3 days ago

Text

Taboo Treatment

George Weasley x reader

Requested by: @mytrinityphelps

Request: “Perv professor/ stepdad George Weasley”

A/N: Thank you for the request! I'm sorry it's taken so long (i've had a busy few weeks of christmas stuff and illnesses) but I am back. I feel like this wasn't one of my best and I feel like I rushed it. It didn't help that I wrote bits and pieces over a 3 week span.

T/W: Very taboo, Upskirting, Spanking, Mentions of stalking and spying, Thigh fucking

When your mum told you about her new boyfriend, let's just say you weren’t too pleased.

In fact, your friends can remember the exact moment you got the letter that one morning. The way your face dropped made them think someone had died. But it was worse, way worse. You see, she mentioned her new beau. A man called George Weasley. Or as you knew him; Professor Weasley.

That ginger teacher who taught you Astronomy since you were 11. Your mother liked to joke that he practically raised you. Sure, you were happy for her. You just wished that she had chosen to date literally anybody else.

Even going to class was strange after that. He’d overlook little questions you got wrong and it seemed that you were doing better than ever in his class. But in reality, the real reason was because he was banging your mum every holiday. Your friends found it hilarious, even dubbing Professor Weasley with the title of ‘Papa Weasley’.

A year passed, and everything seemed to be coming up roses for your mum and your professor. Even so that when you returned home and found him in your living room, they announced the dreaded news.

Engaged.

The wedding was exactly how you'd imagine. The groom's side of the church was lined with a sea of red hair and freckles. Your new step siblings from George's previous marriage were already in your class, but you hadn’t really spoken to them before. They seemed happier with the marriage than you did, but every wedding reception has that one unhappy bunny.

The first couple of months drifted by, mainly filled with moving house and getting used to the ‘happy family’ atmosphere. But things changed at school. Professor Weasley no longer gave you better grades, instead becoming more strict and demanding. When greeting each student in the morning, his smile faltered when his eyes landed on you. But it somehow got even worse.

You’d notice your new stepdad paying extra special attention to other girls in class. He’d get closer to them than necessary, even going as far as to drop his wand in front of female students desks and picking it up after a quick look up their skirt. Without another thought, you approached him after class when the general crowd had disappeared. You had a mean look in your eye as you approached his desk, but the smirk on his face told you that he already knew your intentions.

“What the hell, George! I saw what you were doing with that wand trick. What about my mum?”

George looked up at the fire in your eyes, grinning innocently like he’d just played one of his pranks that his children boasted about. He tutted softly, shaking his head.

“It’s ‘Professor’ to you, sweetie. And I have no idea what little trick you’re referring to. I can’t help it if I'm clumsy, can I?”

He stood from his desk, beckoning you closer.

“What mummy dearest doesnt know doesnt hurt her”

You stood your ground, ignoring the way your skin felt hotter as he smirked at your defiance. His hand pulled you closer by your wrist before bending you over the edge of his desk. George pulled your robe up and pulled your wand from its designated pocket before sliding your skirt up.

“I think I know why you’re so annoyed. You don't want me paying attention to those other girls. I think you want me all to yourself”

When you tried to argue back, he shushed you and held your wand in front of your lips before leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“You might need something to bite on, sweetheart”

His chest pressed against your back, his hand remaining on the fabric of your clothes to keep it on your hips, leaving your underwear exposed. You reluctantly opened your mouth, biting on your wand lightly. He let out a soft hum of amusement before catching you off guard and bringing his hand down sharply on your thigh, making you lurch against the desk. But still he continued to hold you down. His repeated strikes left your thighs red raw, each hit making you flinch and whimper. He seemed to reveal in your little reactions, getting harder by the second.

“Does my naughty stepdaughter like that? I bet you listen to me and mummy fuck through the walls. Or do you just rub your thighs together beneath your desk while I teach?”

You tried looking back at him, but he wouldn't let you. You wanted to spit your wand out and tell him straight that he was sick, but you didn't.

You could have, but when a Professor told you to do something, you obeyed. Just like a good girl should.

He stalled his spanks and tugged your underwear down. He tapped your wrist, tapping it harder when you finally understood what he wanted you to do. Reaching back, you pulled your cheeks apart, letting him enjoy the view.

“What a pretty pussy. Maybe I should have been looking up your skirt more often. I know, I’ll ask good ol’ uncle Harry for his invisibility cloak and watch you. I know you’ll like that. I’ll watch you shower and sleep, and you’ll never know if you’re truly alone again. I wouldn't want my pretty little one to get lonely.”

His other hand pulled his fly down slowly, letting you hear the zippers symphony and the sound of him spitting onto his hand as it signalled your impending fate. You could tell that he wasn't going to go easy on you, so you at least hoped that he’d be on the smaller scale. A hope that was quickly squashed when he ran his length beneath your thighs, his veined shaft gliding against your clit.

But he had other plans.

“I know you’re a virgin, princess. You’re too tight not to be. I’ll save your perfect virgin hole for when we have more time. Then I can really ruin you”

His hips slowly rocked back and forth, his cock sliding between your thighs. With every movement, your pussy drooled more slick onto his shaft. He kept a firm grip on your clothes, using them to pull your hips back against his.

Your jaws tightened around the wooden wand between your teeth, the worry of breaking it out the window as your new focus was on the cock nestled between your thighs. The pleasure felt otherworldly, but it wasn't enough. His groans got more frequent until he let out a string of pants, his cum panting your underwear gusset. He brought his hand up to stroke your hair softly, as if he hadn’t stilled and robbed you of any orgasm you had hoped to have. He slowly stepped back and pulled your underwear back up from where it gathered at your thighs, letting his cum mix with your juices.

He didn’t fix your clothes. He wanted to memorise the sight of you like this, knowing that his cum was now pressing against your pussy. He didn’t stop you when he heard your wand clatter on his desk. He stroked your thighs which still burned from his earlier touch.

He could get used to you.

#george weasely smut #george weasly x reader #george weasley fic #george weasley smut #george weasley headcanon #george weasley #george weasley x you #george weasley x y/n #george wealsey x reader #george weasley x fem #george wealsey imagine

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howlingday · 8 hours ago

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I freaking love alabastards so much! Its like vol 1 Weiss and Jaune who got tired of taking shit for being too nice!

I so need more!

Would it be too much to ask for Alabastards on winter break or something?

"Hello, Arc."

"Weiss."

"How is your winter break?"

"Good. Yours?"

"My winter break is also going well." Weiss turned away. "Not that you'd know anything about proper grammar anyways."

"Oh, really? Is that because I'm too poor to talk good, or is it because you're so bad at being a good person you have to make up for it?"

"Bite me, Arc."

"Make me, Schnee."

The two sneered at each other until they noticed they were getting looks from their teams. Reeling back, the two parted. How and why the two were always found at odds, no one was truly certain. Maybe one had said something to offend the other, or perhaps there was a meeting they had before Beacon that soured their relationship long before it could begin? It was difficult to say.

Regardless, today was Non-Descript Winter Holiday and the two had promised to bury the hatchet, if only for the day. Weiss had bought gifts for each of her friends on Team JNPR, and Jaune, while Jaune used his skills to craft personal gifts for his friends on Team RWBY, and Weiss. As the two sat down with their friends, gifts were exchanged between each of them.

Weiss gifted Pyrrha jacket with a liner, both skillfully embroidered with her name. Nora got a quirky device that allowed her poor syrup through a glass tube onto her pancakes, like some kind of breakfast alchemist. Ren received a new apron to wear should his other need to be washed, this one featuring the words "I'm Not On The Menu". Jaune didn't open his gift.

"And why not?"

"Because I don't want to."

"Excuse me?"

"Knowing you, you probably put a cheap gag gift in here to spite me."

"Do you really think so low of me?"

"Do you?"

"...Fine. Then I refuse to open mine."

"Fine by me."

The rest of the party sighed, choosing to move on to other gifts. Jaune's gifts were hand-crafted with love... or friendship, if love was too much of a stretch. Yang got a bag for her boxing gloves that had "Chorld Wamp" stitched into them, making her giggle. Blake was given a couple sheets of paper with personal poems written front and back, some in haiku. Ruby got a coffee mug cozy, yarned and darned with black and red. Weiss, much like Jaune, refused to open hers.

"I don't care."

"Neither do I."

"I'll just open mine later."

"Or never." She scowled at her gift in disgust. "Knowing you, you probably put something disgusting in here, like a photo of yourself."

"Ha ha." Jaune groaned, standing up. "I'm going to call it a night."

"Oh, did I hurt your feelings by not opening your shitty gift?"

"No, I'm just tired. Not everything is about you, Weiss." Before Weiss could retort, Jaune had already left out of the room, gift in hand.

"Weiss, that was really mean." Ruby whined.

"Very mean." Pyrrha added. "You were both supposed to not be hostile this evening."

"Why am I the bad guy?" Weiss gestured to where her foe made his exit. "He was ruder than I ever was!"

"You were both rude." Yang answered, pointing a finger at the heiress. "You both promised to play nice during winter break, and you both broke that promise on the most important day of the entire break. You ruined it for everyone."

"I did not ruin Non-Decript Winter Holiday." Weiss rolled her eyes. "He ruined it."

"I'm gonna hit her." Nora said.

"Please don't." Ren replied.

"The least you could do is open his gift." Blake offered.

"It it'll make you guys feel better, then fine!" Weiss opened her present. "But do you really think anything he got me will make me say... Oh my god..."

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

Jaune held his present in his hand, fully unwrapped and, begrudgingly, impressed. Inside the box was a camera. High quality, too. He fiddled with the buttons, the zoom, the lighting, the timer. Everything was so smooth and easy to play with. He didn't want to admit, but this was probably the best gift he'd ever.

"Jaune, open up." Jaune looked up to the knocking at his door. Opening it, he found Weiss holding his gift to her. "What the hell is this?"

"Your present." Jaune answered, making Weiss scowl.

"You know what I meant." She shoved past him and set the binder on his desk, pushing the gift box to the side. The binder was pure white and decorated with a single sticker of Beacon Tower, something purchased in the school store as a memento. Opening the binder and flipping through the pages, each of which were decorated with printed photos from Jaune's scroll. "You have every single person we've known in this binder."

"Yeah?" Jaune said with a raised brow. "That's how photo albums work, don't they?"

"Everyone we've known EXCEPT for the two of us! Why?"

Jaune blinked, looking at her like she'd suddenly turned into a creature of Grimm. "Because you hate me?"

"I don't- I never-" She groaned. "Just because I don't like you doesn't mean I hate you."

"No," Jaune agreed, "but you insulting me at every turn and being an overall bitch to me does."

"Only because you're an asshole to me." Weiss growled before sighing. "Look. Here's what's going to happen. We are going to fix this. You are going to take a picture of us and put it in this binder."

"Why should I listen to you?"

"Because if you don't, I'm going to kick your ass before the others do."

"The others?" Jaune blinked. "Why are they going to kick my ass?"

"Because they think we ruined the winter break for them."

Jaune was quiet for a moment. "I mean, we did."

"Yes, we did, and exactly the point. So take that fancy camera I got you and take my pic-" CLICK! Weiss blinked a couple of times as her vision was still blurred from the sudden flash. "Argh! You asshole!"

"What? I took your picture." Jaune showed off the photo on his camera with a shit-eating grin. "See?"

"Delete that." Weiss ordered.

"No." Jaune refused without dropping his smile.

Weiss opened her mouth to say something, then heaved a sigh. "Fine. Just... don't do anything weird with it. That's all I ask."

"Okay?" Jaune looked to his camera and pressed a button. "There, I deleted it."

"Oh." Weiss then watched Jaune turn on the light and pulled the chair to the center of the room. "What are you doing?"

"Setting up the shot." Jaune said off-handedly. "You want our picture taken, right?"

"Yeah, but-"

"No buts, except yours in this chair." Jaune chuckled.

"Ugh, you're worse than Xiao Long." She seated herself in the chair.

"I doubt it." Jaune lifted and lowered the camera repeatedly while crouched next to the desk before he grabbed a textbook and set the camera on top of it. "Okay..." He ran up to Weiss, taking place behind her. "Smile."

"Why?"

"It's your picture."

"Are you smiling?"

"Yeah."

"Bull."

"I am."

"...Fine." Weiss smiled and the camera flashed as she did. Jaune ran up to the camera and looked it over. He grinned. "What?"

"Nothing. I just look really good in this."

"Let me see." Weiss looked at the photo and immediately frowned. "You made a stupid face."

"I was smiling."

"You were making a stupid face while smiling."

"Well, do you want to take another one?"

Weiss thought for a moment, then nodded. "No stupid pictures this time."

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

Weiss opened her photo album, much time had passed since she'd opened it. Many more memories were captured in time and held in place right there inside her book. Her favorite page was the one with all of her favorite photos. The ones filled with her making goofy faces with her husband, Jaune Arc.

Happy Non-Descript Winter Holiday

#rwby #non-descript winter holdiay #nondescript winter holiday #jaune arc #weiss schnee #white knight #alabastards #ruby rose #blake belladonna #yang xiao long #nora valkyrie #pyrrha nikos #lie ren

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bloody-cupcakes · 1 day ago

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can you do some joe goldberg whump headcanons?? maybe with love or an x reader

A/N: yeah of course! I chose to do x reader since that's what I write for my blogs haha

Tw: yandere/dark content, gender neutral reader, obsessive behavior, stalking, kidnapping, murder, slight gore/injuries mentioned (both on accident and intentional), drugging, emotional manipulation/gaslighting, blackmail, Stockholm syndrome implied at the end

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

First of all, know that he never actually wants to hurt you. He doesn't enjoy seeing you in any kind of pain, or hearing your muffled cries through the gag as he punishes you for whatever it is that you've done wrong this time. He loves you, and he just wants what's best for you after all

He only stalks you out of a need to know where you are at all times, just so he can be sure that you're safe. What would he do if something happened and he wasn't there to protect you? He'd never be able to forgive himself for it, hence him memorizing your entire schedule off the top of his head

Anyone who he deems as toxic or unworthy of being in your life is instantly gotten rid of, though he does feel a bit of guilt when you inevitably find out and call him a monster for it. I mean, it's fair enough, but it still hurts to hear from you of all people

"Baby, baby, can't you see? I did this for you," he does his best to reassure you, but that only makes your panicking get even worse. To be fair, you did wake up in a glass box with an accidental cut on your head from where he slammed you into the wall in a state of blind rage upon him realizing you knew what he'd done, so he could understand your fear. He just wished you'd stop staring at him like he was some sort of a monster when all he wanted to do was keep you safe

He tries to give you some space in hopes that it'll help, but as your silent (and sometimes not-so-silent) resentment begins to grow he becomes more desperate and needy. Everything he does is for you, and this is how you treat him?

Of course he can't help but adore you regardless, which is why he hates having to pin you down and whack at your ankles and knees with the hammer he uses for his book restorations. "If you're going to act like a brat, I have to treat you like one," he mutters softly while you sob in his arms after, barely able to walk after the "punishment" you'd received from him

Something you're made well aware of early on is just how much he loves you (or claims to anyway) but you soon realize that's not enough and that you have to somehow find it in you to love him back. There is no other option if you want to make it out of this alive, but how could you ever love a murderer?

It takes a while, but eventually you behave well enough over time to be able to convince him to move you out of the cage and to his apartment as long as you promise to continue being good. You try to run away that same night, and back to the basement you go, along with a brand new welt on your head from where he had to knock you out in order to get you down there

You beg over and over to be let out, and he promises he will on the condition that you'll let him give you an IV drip full of something that'll keep you feeling complacent and numb (a drug he got courtesy of Paco, who stole it from his mom for Joe's own private use)

He doesn't like keeping you drugged up, but if you insist on trying to escape then there really is no other solution, now is there? Besides, he likes being able to hold you at night and much rather prefers to keep you in the comfortable environment of his place anyway

At first you flat out refuse, but finally you reluctantly agree to his conditions, unable to bear peeing in a bucket and sleeping on the floor any longer. It felt dehumanizing, like you were nothing more than a pet kept for his entertainment. At least his apartment had a real bed and a bathroom

The drugs he put you on made you feel light and free, and it was much easier for you to obey when you were dosed up with them. Things seem to be doing okay until he discovers you'd somehow switched the specially made liquid IV full of drugs with plain water, which resulted in you attempting to leave yet again. God, when will you learn that it's never going to work out for you?

This time when you wake up in the cage, you find yourself covered in blood and lying next to the dead body of your old best friend. Joe simply watches as you frantically try your best to resuscitate the already rotting corpse with several different versions of CPR to no avail

"What have you done?" You scream hysterically, your eyes wide and frightened as you look down at the carnage you found yourself in, your clothes stained crimson red in a manner that almost seemed to mock you

"Next time you pull another stunt like that, it'll be someone you truly care about who's in there with you," he states in a way that's almost cold despite the somewhat sad look in his eyes. He really didn't want it to have to come to this, but you forced his hand. "Now you're going to help me get rid of the body, or I'll have to punish you even worse than that, do you understand?"

It was then that you knew there would be no escape. He'd always find new ways to torture you, mentally and emotionally if nothing else, and each time you stepped out of line you'd only end up getting more injured from it. Not to mention he had had ample amount of planted evidence in order to frame you if he really wanted, so naturally the only thing you could do was agree

That night you found yourself back in his small apartment, wrapped up snugly in his arms as you laid in bed together. The drugs had you feeling much more calm just like usual, and you almost felt bad for everything you'd put him through. "I'm sorry," you slurred while glancing up at him, your eyes droopy from the stolen medication you were on

He just shook his head at your apology, leaning down to place a light kiss to the tip of your nose. "No, baby, don't apologize. It's okay now, I forgive you," he gently promised you, glad that you weren't trying to fight him and his affection anymore

"Mgrh... love you..." came your mumbled reply as you buried your face in his chest. You loved him. You really, truly did. He'd gotten you to see just how much he truly cared, and you loved him for it. A smile graced his lips as he tugged you in a little bit closer. It was then that he decided no matter what the cost, he was going to keep you forever, not that you seemed to mind. He was glad the two of you were finally on the same page for once

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wroetominter · 17 hours ago

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Wedding Guests - George Clarke

In which George and Y/n have a history, that makes an appearance at their friends wedding.

Pairing: George X Femreader

Warnings: slight smut

I stepped out of my cab, thanking the driver as I pulled my weekender bag over my shoulder and carried my dress bags into the lobby of the gorgeous hotel Ethan and Faith had decided to get married at. Some of the guests had opted to stay the night before in the hotel block, wanting to extend the festivities as much as possible.

After checking in, I made my way to the fifth floor where my room was located. Walking down the hall I saw my room, 513. Going to unlock it, the door next to mine opened and I saw George Clarke exiting. It had been awhile since I had seen him.

"Hey George" he looked over to his name being called, smiling at me.

"Hello Y/n, lovely to see you." He gave me a little hug. "Let's catch up when you're settled yeah? Me and the boys are down in the bar if you'd like to join.

"Yeah sounds good to me, give me 10 and I'll meet you down there." He made his way to the lift as I unlocked my room.

Noticing my room had an adjoining door to George's, I figured we would end up being a party space for our friends and made mental note to tell everyone when I saw them.

I changed into something more appropriate for evening, a nice pair of jeans and a basic black tank top. After freshening up my hair and makeup, I grabbed my wallet and key card, sliding them into my pocket and making my way back downstairs where I knew I would find everyone in the bar.

I ran into Faith and a few of her friends in the lobby, squeezing her tight and giving her congratulations again and gushing about how excited I was for the wedding tomorrow. She agreed and her and her group made their way towards the restaurant.

Slipping into the bar, I scanned the surprisingly crowded room for anyone I recognized. I jumped as I felt and arm slide around my waist, turning to the side and seeing Arthur TV. "You scared the shit out of me Arthur." I wrapped my arm around his waist reciprocating his previous movements.

"Sorry Y/n, didn't mean to truly. You looked lost I figured you could use a friendly face." He said so innocently I couldn't help but forgive him.

"I appreciate your face" I gave his cheek a little squeeze and he led me to a booth at the back of the room.

I slid into the booth next to Arthur, and then George blocked me in. We sat with Bach, Harry, and Reev for the evening, chatting about everything we had been up to since the last time we had seen each other. I had been so busy with taking on streaming I hadn't been at as many events as I would have liked to attend. It seemed the boys agreed as I told them I would make more time to visit everyone.

"Do you want a drink love?" George asked nudging my side. Throughout this evening he had been scooting closer and closer into me. George and I had an odd history - a flirtationship really. We had always gotten along well, but after the last trip abroad to Spain we had sort of lost some of that relationship. I think in part due to my absence, and also the growing fame he had acquired taking up the majority of his time as well.

"I'd love one. I'll have a"- he interrupted my sentence.

"A tequila ginger ale?" He asked. A smile grew across my face. I nodded and he got up from the booth to go order our drinks.

"He talks about you constantly, y'know." Arthur whispered to me. I stared at him for a second.

"What do you mean?" I questioned.

"He misses you. A lot. Talks constantly about your trips abroad, hanging out with you, everything. I think coming around more would be good for him. And for you." I let myself sit with those words for a while. I missed George too. It wasn't exactly a secret that his wit was charming, not to mention his striking good looks. He really was different to most guys I knew.

A glass was sat down in front of me, garnished with a lime, just the way I liked it.

"Thank you Georgie." I used the nickname I used to call him frequently.

He rolled his eyes, tossing a lazy arm around my shoulders. Normally a friendly gesture, but this time there was a different feeling attached. "You're welcome darling." I felt myself stiffen at his comment. He must have noticed, as he pulled his arm back to his side. I instantly regretted my natural awkwardness and looked back to him, seeing he had a slight blush on his cheeks. I set my hand on his, resting on his leg. A silent reassurance that I wasn't upset with his movements.

The night drew closer to an end, and we all decided to retire to our rooms.

I walked with George, seeing as our rooms were right next to each other. The silence between us was comfortable.

As we got to our rooms, I paused, looking over to George who had done the same thing, meeting my gaze.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable earlier, I guess sometimes I just feel like nothing has changed with us." He admitted, looking down at the floor.

"George - you didn't make me uncomfortable. I was taken aback a little I guess. I'm not used to it anymore either. I'm unfortunately too awkward these days. I didn't mean to snub you." His spirits seemed to lift, his eyes looking up to meet mine. I felt myself back months ago, staring in the same eyes, but the situation much different.

"Goodnight Y/n, I'll see you at the wedding tomorrow." He said, unlocking the room to his door and heading inside.

I sighed, following suit and entering my room.

———

After getting myself entirely ready, the only thing I had left to do was choose a dress. I had brought two, not sure what mood I would be in. The wedding was a formal event, and both dresses would work well for the occasion. I had a brown dress with a slit halfway up the side, and it wrapped around my body, with small sleeves on the top. My second option was a dark green satin spaghetti strapped dress that hugged around my torso, and flowed out towards the bottom slightly.

I couldn't make up my mind. I felt like I was going insane just trying the two of them on non stop.

Giving in, deciding I needed a second opinion I opened my side of the adjoining door. I knocked, and shortly George opened the door. He was dressed in a black suit, looking more handsome than he ever had. I gasped at the sight of him as he opened the door.

He smirked and laughed "I know, I look insane."

"Not exactly the word I would have used, but. Anyway - I need advice. I have this dress" I gestured to the brown dress I was wearing. "And this one" I held up the green one. "And I need help choosing which one I should wear." George eyed me up and down, making me suddenly feel self conscious.

"Try the other one on, I can't envision it." I nodded, shutting the door and quickly changing.

It was my turn to make him gasp this time, as I opened the door. "That's the one." He said, adjusting the bow tie he was wearing. I smiled, grabbing my small bag and tossing my phone inside.

"Thank you Georgie. I knew I could count on you." I shut the door and followed him into the hallway. He held out his arm and I gladly linked mine with his as we made our way to the ballroom.

The ceremony was first, the hall we were in was decorated elegantly and I found a free space in one of the pews. George sat next to me, and I felt comfort knowing someone I knew would be near me. He grabbed my hand, silently comforting me as the ceremony began.

———

I wiped a few stray tears from my eyes as Ethan and Faith said their 'I do's' and they were pronounced man and wife. I loved love. Seeing others happy always made me cry.

They announced that the reception was in a separate room, and they led us to the new location.

We were greeted by ushers, showing us to our assigned seats. I was nervous, sat at a table with people I didn't know very well. I could still see George, the next table away looking much more confident than I felt. He locked eyes with me, eyeing me up and down and mouthing that I would be fine. He knew me so well.

I made small talk with those near me, watching the speeches from all of the loved ones who knew the groom and bride best. It was a beautiful night, and I was excited to keep this party going.

Drinks flowed, and conversations kept everyone in high spirits throughout the night.

An arm slid around my waist, pulling me close. I could smell the beer on George's breath as he pulled me close to him. His hand was resting cheekily right above my bum, the other holding my waist. "You look so lovely tonight Y/n. I've missed seeing you." He admitted. I smiled at him, placing my hands on his chest, he had long ditched the suit jacket, presumably due to the warm atmosphere, or the amount of drinks he had consumed.

"Thank you, I missed you too." He looked like he was about to lean in, but I chalked up to my imagination as he never acted on the supposed movement.

"I'm ready to go back up to my room. How about you?" he asked. I checked the time, seeing it was well after midnight at this point.

"I think that's a good idea." I followed his lead, congratulating Faith and Ethan again as George said his good nights to his friends.

George wrapped his arm around me as we went to leave the room. "Come on!" I heard Arthur call out, George shot him a look, and Arthur simply winked back.

Once at my hotel room door, I opened it, standing in the doorway looking at George. We stood staring at each other for a few moments, the silence building a tension I was sure we both felt.

"George..." I started, building up some courage. "You've been staring at this dress all night, don't you want to see what it looks like on the floor?" His eyes widened and he stepped forward, grabbing my face with both of his hands, pressing his lips to mine fiercely. We stumbled into the room, door closing behind us.

I fumbled with the buttons on his top, eager to reveal his toned chest. He helped with the last few, the shirt falling off behind us as George's hands slid the zipper down the back of my dress, the satin pooling around my feet in an instant, leaving me clad in nothing but my underwear. It felt normal to be this vulnerable with George, despite this being the first time he had seen me like this.

He unbuttoned his trousers, sliding them off and grabbing me by the legs, pulling me onto the bed straddling his lap. I could feel the bulge growing in his pants, and I knew I was about to be in for an exciting night.

“I can’t tell you how long I have been waiting for this invitation” he kissed me softly, holding me close.

This was more than just physical for me, and now I felt it may be for him as well. I played with the hair at the nape of his neck as he kissed me.

“I wish we would have started this in Spain.” He smiled into the kiss, hooking his fingers into my underwear and flipping us over, sliding them down my legs and discarding them somewhere on the floor.

“We have a lot of catching up to do, don’t we?” He breathed hot air where I needed him most. My heart raced in anticipation, feeling him push my legs apart, leaning in and swiping his tongue over my core. My back arched up in pleasure, meeting his face as he began his work on me.

My hands were tangled in his hair as his tongue drew circles, bringing my pleasure higher and higher. I gasped as he slid his fingers inside me, curling and pushing in and out of me, driving me closer to my peak. “George, please,” I begged, needing this release more than I needed my next breath.

He kept his pace, bringing my orgasm crashing over me. My breath jagged and rough as I rode out my orgasm. He sat up, smirking at the state he had me in. I sat myself up on my elbows, staring at him. His chest had small beads of sweat on it, and my eyes trailed lower, fixating them on his pants, the outline of his penis threatening to escape from how hard he was. “George”

“Yes darling?” He leaned in closer.

“I’m yours.” That was all he needed. He pulled his pants down, releasing his erection. I needed him.

He leaned down to kiss me again, lining himself up with my vagina, and pushing in as he kissed me. He was better than I could have imagined. His pace was perfect, thrusting in and out at a perfect rhythm. He kissed me, whispering sweet nothings into my ear as he worked his magic.

I could tell he was getting closer, as his thrusts became more erratic. He pulled out abruptly, flipping to his back and taking himself in his hand, giving himself the final few pumps he needed to finish. The sight was probably one of the hottest things I had ever witnessed.

We laid there in a comfortable silence, both panting. I decided I should help George, getting up and grabbing a towel to clean him up.

I laid myself into him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

“I like you, Y/n.” He said softly.

I laughed, holding myself up to look at him. He stared back at me, looking nervous at my laughter at his admission.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. I just, I like you to George. It just felt obvious from the last fifteen minutes.” It was his turn to laugh. He wrapped his strong arms around me and kissed me again, and again, and again.

“I just wanted to hear you say it.”

A knock on the door startled us from the moment we were having.

“Who on earth could that be?” I whispered.

“If I had to guess, probably Arthur.” George said, getting up and pulling his pants and top back on.

I wrapped the duvet over my body, shielding myself from the door.

George cracked the door slightly, and I could barely hear the whispers being exchanged.

George returned to the bed, taking his top back off and sliding in next to me, cuddling into my side.

“Arthur?” I asked him.

He sighed. “Unfortunately. He was making sure I finally admitted feelings for you.” I laughed.

“We’ll spare him the horny details.” I said, kissing his cheek and laying on his chest.

The details of this night could stay between us, for now.

#wroetominterimagines #george clarkeey #george clarkey #george clarke #george clarke fics #george clarke fluff #arthurtv #imagine

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gouraminnow · 2 days ago

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One Piece / Straw hats with a Reader who struggles with ASI (Autistic Self Injury)

Warnings: Self harm, primarily

ASI is sometimes referred to as Non-Suicidal Self Injury, and it's typically not done deliberately the way "standard" SH is. It can be because of both under or over-stimulation, or sometimes it can just be a form of stimming that happens to be physically harmful. This isn't exclusive to autism, it's also common w/ compulsion based disorders such as OCD.

Disclaimer: I'm not a professional of any sort I'm just a guy who has it. My experience is not universal and most of this will be based on how I experience and deal with these problems.

POST THAT CATERS TO ME BEFORE ANYBODY ELSE HERE WE GO!!!

In all honesty One Piece is so chock-full of quirky and frankly weird people that I don't think an autistic person would phase most characters all that much. Not saying ableism wouldn't exist at all, but like. Franky is here. I don't think most lower-support needs autistic people would even be noticed by anyone other than some of the doctor characters and I don't think high-support needs people would be treated badly (By the more... decent characters, anyway). I mean hell I will always go to bat for autistic Luffy hcs, as well as Robin and Usopp to a degree but ANYWAY!

Before everyone is used to it, the site of you doing it (while upset especially) has everyone scrambling to grab you and stop it from continuing. There is… a good chance this upsets you even more, having your new crewmates suddenly swarming you... it takes a bit of back and forth, explaining that this is just normal for you.

Luffy is the one I thought of first... I've always been a biter. Whether it's nails or biting open the skin on my hands it's one of the forms I personally struggle with a lot. Now I may think Luffy is autistic but this does NOT mean I think he'd immediately understand/get it. Obligatory "autism is a spectrum" spiel, a lot of us butt heads if we have conflicting symptoms/struggles. Luffy is sympathetic, and worried about you, but he's also very blunt and there's a good chance he'd argue with you over it. What are you upset about? Clearly something's wrong, if you're doing this. What do you mean you don't notice? You're bleeding. Doesn't it hurt? This is bad for you. He's worried, so just cut it out already!

You tell him it's just an impulse you don't think about, like wiping your nose or tapping your foot. It doesn't really hurt until someone points it out, or if you accidentally do something really bad. His brows screw up, and he stares at you very intently. He says if you can't stop, then he WILL help you the next time it happens. You're a little put off, and have the suspicion that he doesn't really get it, but... well, he clearly means well. It's nice that he worries about you, and that even while ignorant in some aspects of his concern, he doesn't belittle or blame you for these behaviors... ultimately, you feel pretty okay about how things went.

Until the next time he sees you doing it, he launches across the ship to shove his nasty, grubby-ass hands into your mouth. "It doesn't hurt me!" he exclaims, while you try to cuss him out and avoid gagging on his stupid, rubbery fingers. "You need to bite, so bite me! This way hurts nobody, shishishi!" You shriek, the two of you toppling over onto the deck. Sanji or Nami smack him over the head to get him off of you. It wasn't what you'd call helpful, but... if he's out on deck or in the room with you, there's a little self-check you run through to make sure nothing your doing will warrant... that. So maybe it does sort of work?

Luffy has a similar approach to other forms of ASI too. Skin picking and hair pulling? Hitting yourself? Yeah he's going koala mode(animal that clings. Not the character) and wrapping himself around you, restraining your limbs. Which unfortunately has a high chance of making the urge worse, if it's compulsion based...

Now, Chopper has heard of this, and read about it, but he hasn't actually seen it in person yet. The first time he sees you doing it, it's shortly after you've joined. He goes to meet with you- every new member gets a check-up just to make sure everything's in working order! He finds you in the aquarium bar, absentmindedly gazing at the fish... but when he calls to you, you turn, and reveal the bloody mess of your hand- nails chewed far past the quick. He freaks out, which probably freaks you out, which attracts the attention of the others, and...

Yeah. That could've gone better. It takes a bit for you two to calm down. There's a chance he might think this is a more standard form of self-harm, and feel guilty because you're so unhappy you'd do this to yourself... when he learns the actual reason, he... still feels pretty guilty for not noticing or considering the possibility sooner. But he's the one who briefs everyone else on the details, possibly even you if you don't know you're autistic or why you do these things. I don't think these types of diagnoses or the terminology surrounding them are well known in the OP universe, so there's a good chance you don't have clue what your own problem is. Either way, everybody knows now.

Chopper lays down the basics. There's the passive SH you don't even notice, reflexive the way scratching an itch or brushing away hair is. Then there's the kind that you do because you're upset or overwhelmed in some way. It's not so simple as just stopping. You need other outlets when you feel the urges start up. He works with you to try and practice healthier grounding and coping strategies, and the others fall in line.

Nami isn't great about it if she sees it before Chopper tells everybody what's up... means well, but scolding you or grabbing you directly does not help the urges go away. She means well, but she's used to the other knuckleheads and their more... deliberate brand of dipshittery. Much more patient once she's been told the details, whether from you or Chopper.

If Nami catches you picking at your skin, it's pretty common for her to hand you a tangerine to peel. It's similar enough to skin, she reasons, it might be a good alternative. And then you can eat it afterward instead of chewing on yourself. It's a two-in-one solution! Both of you fail to consider how easily citrus juice gets inside a hand-wound though... after the first incident, it's a solution for picking at any other body parts. You can hang out in the map room with her for a little bit of peace and quiet, as long as you don't distract her. She might explain some of her work to you if you're interested.

She'll smack around any of the others if they upset/overwhelm you, whether it's actually enough to start up the sh. Her yelling might not help, but it is nice to feel supported... she'll get you jewelry to fidget with instead, and take you clothes shopping for things that don't set off sensory issues(AND look flattering, of course). Her and Robin will paint your nails. The dried polish is another better peeling/picking alternative to skin and hair. Nami adds the prices of the jewelry and nail polish to the debt of whoever accidentally sets you off.

Robin is a little better about it. If you hit yourself, or bang your head against another surface, she'll use her power to summon hands that cushion your blows. If she sees the scratching, hair pulling, etc. she asks you about it- the question usually enough to ground you and realize it's happening, if you aren't already.

She's good at redirecting you. Has you come relax somewhere quieter with her if you're overwhelmed. Works with Nami in regards to the clothes and nail polish, but also has good chapstick recommendations, since chapped lips are a big problem for lots of people with dermatillomania.

A relaxing person to be around in general (unless you're offput by her morbid comments) and is good to talk to. You admit you feel a bit ridiculous having these issues on a crew chock-full of such accomplished individuals. Childish, even. She chuckles, asking how you can say that living on the same boat as Luffy, of all people? You're hardly the only person here with self-destructive habits and it's far from your only defining trait. And though for differing reasons, both her and Brook commiserate with you regarding the loneliness and feelings of isolation a lot of autistic people face. The struggle of not understanding or being understood in turn...

Insists on you joining her and Nami while they relax, on occasion. Makes Sanji dote on you too, if you aren't a woman and he isn't already.

Speaking of Sanji, he's also good at redirecting you. The kitchen is his domain, but if you're in a rut and it'll help keep your hands busy without overwhelming you, he'll give you something to do. Help chop, help peel, here the eggs are done boiling so be a dear and help with the ice bath, won't you? Won't let you chop onions or chilis even if you insist you'll be fine.

And if you're a chewer/biter, he always has some sort of snack to give you. Finds you chewing your knuckles and shoves some Hors d'Oeuvres at you. Takes care to figure out which textures you like vs. can't handle as well. If you're hitting yourself, he sticks some thick oven mitts on your hands. It's not... perfect, by any means, but it's better.

Zoro hears the way you talk about some of it. The feeling of some sort of tense, uncomfortable energy that fills you, and the desperate need to get it out. Tearing at yourself, hitting yourself, banging your head against something to try and alleviate the feeling. He... thinks he sort of gets it, actually. Not in the same way but he gets antsy and weird if he doesn't get to do something active for too long. Is it something like that..? Passively mentions that weight training might help. It's worth a shot, and you're free to come join him if you'd like to try. And you think it over. Maybe the straining of your muscles would provide a similar and healthier form of relief, while also achieving something productive at the same time... so you make your way up to the crow's nest one day, and he's happy to see you there, truly!

But... Zoro has come a long way since he first joined. He knows he's stronger than you, but misjudged just how big the gap was. He walks you through the proper postures and stances for lifting, only for you both to face a bit of a rude awakening...

You can't lift any of his weights... both of you feel a little awkward, to say the least. And you're a bit disheartened. He makes a plan to get a beginner's set for you, but Usopp and/or Franky probably beat him to the punch and build a training set.

Usopp and Franky work together. Or, well, more like they both get the idea to design fidgety little devices for you, and Usopp nervously tells Franky that they probably shouldn't double as armable explosives or mini missile launchers. There should probably be a clearer line drawn between something you absentmindedly fiddle with and a weapon of mass destruction. He nods earnestly. That's a good point, bro... Guess they'll just make em both separately! SUUUPERRRR!!!!!!

If you have hair pulling issues, Usopp suggests some sort of bandana to cover and pull your hair back like his, just as an added barrier between your hands and your scalp. On top of that, he insists on wrapping bandaids on your fingertips to make picking of all sorts much harder, and makes little finger-caps with Franky when the bandaids also interfere with more regular tasks. For hitting, with Chopper's advice, they make padded gloves, vests/coats to wear that help cushion the blows. They make more covert options too, like chest guards that can be worn under normal clothes. They run their drafts by you, making sure they're not uncomfortable to wear.

Franky's "SUUUPEERRRR!!" is just as likely to become a stim as it is to be overwhelming, honestly. He fashions some noise-canceling headphones for you. When Nami learns about these, she wants her own pair, too.

Brook is always ready to help sooth you with music, but sometimes the elegant notes of a violin can become a pitchy whine to you if you're already overstimulated. It just depends on the situation. It can get to him if he accidentally makes things worse for you, but he tries not to take it personally.

But it often does work. If he's not adding to a racket and things have quieted down, sometimes starting up a song will have your hands fall to your sides without you realizing you were hurting yourself in the first place. He's very giddy about it when he pulls this off but tries not to be obvious. Subtlety isn't exactly his thing, though.

He makes a joke from a place of concern- that if you keep tearing at yourself like this, you'll end up a skeleton just like him. If it bothers you, he'll never make a joke like it again. He isn't trying to be cruel, he just likes to deal with things by being silly. If you do like it, and he gets a laugh out of you, it becomes a running gag. "You know, they say imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. But as much as I would enjoy having another skeleton on board, this really isn't good for you..."

#one piece x reader #Luffy #Chopper #Nami #Robin #Sanji #Zoro #Usopp #Franky #Brook #hcs #autistic reader #I kinda lost steam but I rlly like this #one piece headcanons

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