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kunareads · 15 hours ago

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if i believe you | chapter six

i did not come to bring peace

clan head!satoru x reader

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wc: 7.5k (sorry)

a/n: my own open wound is splattered all over this chapter. i promise i will stop torturing them soon i'm very sorry. if you see a typo please tell me i did proofread but the chapter is long!

content: angst again :D panic attack, religious trauma, internalized shame, hurt/comfort but not really.

INTERACT HERE FOR TAGLIST!

18+ please <3

satoru is in a good mood today. he woke up before the sun with the kind of lazy satisfaction that stretches into everything, making even a morning in the main estate feel manageable.

business is business, but it’s easier to handle with the warmth of last night’s kiss still thrumming under his skin. and, admittedly, with the thought of seeing you later.

he’s restless with it. this need to see you, to be near to you, to find some excuse to talk to you like he’s not supposed to be doing anything else. maybe he’ll bring you something from the market. fresh fruit, your favorite snacks. maybe flowers, if he feels like showing off. just to see that smile you’ve been trying so hard to hide from him.

he likes giving you things.

but the thought comes with a flicker of something quieter. even now, you hesitate. your fingers hover a little too long before you accept anything he offers. like you’re still deciding if you’re allowed to take what he so freely gives.

but it’s getting better. he sees it in the way your hands shake less and your voice sounds more like you.

he wonders if you’ve been thinking about last night the way he is. if you’re turning it over in your mind, wondering what it means. wondering if it’s okay to want more.

his lips twitch. he’ll show you soon enough.

but then the knock comes.

“come in.”

the servant’s face is pale, mouth pressed into a line that can’t quite hide their unease. “the lady’s parents have arrived, sir. they’re waiting in the main hall.”

his mood shatters. it’s an effort not to crumple the paper in his hand, the edges already curling under his fingertips.

no warning. no notice. they’re just here.

he’s grateful for his blindfold, because whatever’s written across his face right now would probably turn the poor boy in front of him to stone.

they didn’t send word because they wanted to catch him off guard. more importantly, they wanted to catch you off guard. see things for themselves. see you without the safety net of preparation.

the irritation that simmers in his chest is almost comforting, familiar in a way he doesn’t want to admit. but it’s laced with something else.

fear.

because you’ve only just started to feel safe here, with him.

he’s out of his seat before he realizes, striding through the halls with a purpose that feels instinctual—the sudden need to confront them where they are rather than have them brought to him like guests.

because they’re not guests. they’re intruders.

the main hall feels colder than usual when he reaches it. they stand like they own the fucking place—your mother poised, her back too straight, hands clasped in front of her in a show of her own composure. your father, stiff beside her, eyes sweeping the room with the kind of scrutiny that sets satoru’s teeth on edge.

they’re looking for faults, for signs of neglect, for anything they can hold against you.

he schools his expression into something controlled, forces his voice into something polite but not welcoming. “i wasn’t expecting you.”

“clearly,” your mother replies, not even trying to disguise her disapproval. “i would have expected our daughter to be the one greeting us.”

“she’s busy.”

his voice is flat, sharp around the edges. he knows it’s a mistake the second it’s out, but he won’t take it back.

your mother’s gaze narrows, a subtle shift, but he catches it all the same. “i see,” she says, and it’s the kind of thing that sounds like an agreement but isn’t.

his patience is wearing thin. he can feel frustration boiling under his skin, hot and restless. the same anger he’s felt since a child for people who think they know better. who measure worth in posture and tone and obedience. who think they’ll just show up here and find their daughter exactly as they left her.

“i’ll have you brought to her shortly,” he says. “in the meantime, you can wait here.”

your mother’s mouth twitches like she’s biting back something unpleasant. your father barely looks at him, his gaze shifting toward the door as if he’s done assessing the room and found it lacking.

satoru doesn’t wait for a reply. he turns on his heel and leaves, storm already building inside him as he makes his way to your home.

he’s moving too quickly, steps too sharp as he stalks down the pathway and into the house. the staff who pass him keep their heads down—some out of respect, others out of caution. a few glance up with careful eyes, but he doesn’t acknowledge them like he normally would. he can’t. not when his mind is already running circles around what’s about to happen.

what he’s about to ruin.

he tries to pull himself out of it, tries to focus on anything but the exasperation winding around his chest. but it’s impossible not to notice you scattered around the house.

a neatly folded shawl draped over the arm of the couch. a half-finished cup of tea on the windowsill, abandoned this morning. a book open on the table—one he gave you—its spine gently cracked, a frayed ribbon marking where you left off.

you’ve been making this place your own.

he sees it now, all the quiet proof that you’ve been settling in, letting yourself be here in a way you hadn’t before. and they’re here to unravel it. to remind you of the version of yourself you’ve only just begun to shed.

his hands curl into fists, nails biting into his palms.

he shouldn’t be this angry. shouldn’t be this desperate to keep you from shrinking into that quiet, docile silence you wore like armor. but he is, because he’s seen what you look like when you smile without thinking, when your hands move freely, when you look him in the eye.

and he wants that for you. more than he knows how to say.

he’s almost at the door when he hears it—quiet humming drifting through an open window.

he stops.

his irritation stills, displaced by something softer rising in its place.

you’re in the garden.

── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢

the sun is climbing high, the air thick with warmth and the scent of soil. your back is sore, there’s dirt under your nails, and your clothes are wrinkled beyond saving—but you feel good, peaceful. the kind of peace you’ve been slowly learning how to hold.

no one’s watching, no one’s standing over your shoulder, pointing out your mistakes. it’s just you and the plants you’ve been coaxing into something alive.

you’ve been thinking about last night. about satoru—how much you learned about him, how gently he listened to you. the feel of his lips, the way his fingers threaded so carefully through your hair. the way he looked at you, bright and quiet and almost reverent.

the memory comes with a small thrill, your cheeks going warm and your chest tightening.

you want to kiss him again.

you want to kiss him without feeling clumsy or uncertain. and you want him to kiss you, too.

it’s a quiet realization, but it’s not shameful. it feels nice.

you didn’t know this feeling existed.

maybe that’s why you’ve been out here so long. because the idea of seeing him makes you a little dizzy.

you sink your hands back into the soil, your fingers finding the stems of new growth. you let yourself feel happy.

“hey.”

the greeting startles you. your head snaps up, eyes landing on satoru at the entrance of the garden. his hair glows white under the sun, his expression unreadable under his blindfold, but familiar all the same.

a smile rises before you can help it, instinctive and unguarded. “satoru.”

he takes steps carefully down the stone pathway toward you, and for a split second, you think he’s going to smile back. he reaches out instead, his thumb tracing a line just below your eye. the touch is light, like he’s trying not to startle you. like he’s capturing something before it slips away.

“you’ve got dirt on your face,” he murmurs, brushing it away. and he doesn’t smile.

“is something wrong?” you ask. it’s concern, not yet panic.

“we have visitors,” he says carefully.

your stomach lurches. “visitors?”

“your parents,” he says, his voice steady, cautious—the same way it was the night you tried to offer yourself to him like some kind of penance. “they came unannounced. i came to tell you before they—”

the rest dissolves into white noise.

your parents. here.

the warmth you’ve been holding onto drains out of you as last night rises in your throat again, bitter now. you wonder if they’ll know. if your mother will look at you and see failure written across your skin.

you’re itchy all of a sudden. your clothes cling too tight. you’re covered in dirt and sweat, sleeves rolled, skirt stained from kneeling in the soil. far removed from the woman you’re supposed to be. the one they raised you to be.

“they weren’t supposed to come yet. i thought—i haven’t prepared anything.”

you’ve missed your parents in a complicated way. but missing them doesn’t mean you forgot. it was only a few weeks ago that you were under their roof, measured by their expectations, falling short even when everything was perfect.

and you know—even if your home is perfect and satoru is perfect and the staff are perfect—it won’t be enough.

even knowing they’d come eventually didn’t prepare you for the way your breath shrinks in your lungs.

your eyes flit around the tangled greenery, the leaves and petals and creeping vines. wild, uneven, full of life.

“she can’t see this.” your voice almost breaks. “it would embarrass her.”

satoru’s expression doesn’t change. “i can tell them to leave.”

you blink. “what?”

“you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.” his voice is calm, but there’s an edge to it. “i can just make them leave.”

“they came all this way.”

“does that mean you owe them something?”

the words come out sharper than he means, frustration slipping through before he can stop it. he catches himself almost immediately. “you don’t have to see them just because they showed up,” he says, gentler now. “they can wait, or they can go. up to you.”

you shake your head. “they’re my parents.”

you don’t know what else to say. you can’t find the words to explain to him that it’s not that simple. that it’s not just about what they want—it’s what you owe. to them. to god. to the name you carry—carried? that you have to fit neatly into their expectations, even when you don’t know how. and that you don’t know how to unlearn that.

and you know—you know—that he would send them away if you asked him to. he’d do it without hesitation.

and for one aching, impossible moment, you want to let him. want to let him take you inside, shut the door, and pretend they were never here.

but they are.

and breathing feels like running underwater, the air thick and wrong and unwelcome.

“i’ll go,” you say, and it doesn’t even sound like your voice. your shoulders slump, the weight of obligation settling over you like it was never gone. it’s easier, in some terrible way, to fall back into the role they gave you than it is to fight it.

satoru’s eyes are still on you, searching, hoping. but whatever he’s looking for, he doesn’t find it.

he leaves you to clean yourself up, though stepping away from you makes his own discomfort twist tighter. the guilt starts immediately. he sends for your parents to be brought to the house, and the moment the words leave his mouth, he regrets it.

it feels like surrender. it feels like giving them permission to step back into your life and rip up everything you’ve only just started building.

the house feels too small once he’s back inside. every corner is loud with silence. his movements are sharp, mechanical, driven by restless dread.

he goes around collecting the scattered remnants of your morning. he picks up the shawl from the couch, puts it away even though he hopes it’ll be back where it was tomorrow. takes your cup from the windowsill, the tea cold now, and places it gently in the sink. finds your book and slides it back onto the shelf.

he’s making himself sick with it, this impulse to make everything perfect before they arrive. to beat their judgement.

he knows that’s what you’re doing, too. scrubbing the dirt from your skin and smoothing your hair and changing into something stiff and clean. erasing the version of you they haven’t approved.

the version he’s come to like best.

it shouldn’t fucking matter. it shouldn’t matter what they think.

but it does, and it makes him want to throw something.

he wants to find you, to tell you again that you don’t have to do this. that he’ll take care of everything. that he’ll take care of you.

but it’s not what you want.

so instead, he drags his hand over his face and forces himself to keep moving. straightening. waiting. every motion a quiet act of helplessness.

── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢

you can feel satoru’s presence even when you can’t see him. the sound of his footsteps as he moves through the house. the low murmur of his voice when he instructs the staff to bring your parents over from the main estate. the quiet when he settles just outside your door, waiting but not knocking.

everything feels too loud. too sudden. you smooth your hands down your front, try to fix your hair, to twist a stray strand into place. your fingers won’t stop shaking. and no matter what you do, you’re never going to be what they expect.

by the time you open the door, your pulse is in your throat. satoru catches the tremble in your hands. of course he does.

“ready?” he asks, quiet.

you nod. it’s a lie.

he watches you a moment longer, like he’s weighing the cost of pushing. like he wants to say there’s still time to say no. but when you start walking, he falls into step beside you.

the hallway feels endless.

your heartbeat thrums in your ears, louder than your footsteps. the air feels thinner with every breath. you imagine this is what it’s like to stand at the edge of a cliff.

you step into the room first. satoru stays just behind you, but your mother’s eyes are already on you—sweeping over your appearance with detached precision.

“darling,” she says, her voice cool and measured. not unkind, but not warm, either. “you should have been the one to greet us. it’s only proper.”

the words land like barbs, small and sharp. you’d expected hello, how are you. something human.

you force yourself to stand a little straighter. “i was—” your throat tightens. “i didn’t know you were coming.”

she hums, a soft sound that manages to feel like disapproval. your father, silent beside her, gives nothing away.

satoru’s presence is steady at your side, a subtle heat against your shoulder.

“it’s nice to see you both,” you offer, stiff and formal. the words feel borrowed from someone else’s idea of a daughter.

“likewise,” your father replies. his tone is even, but it bites anyway. “we were beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten about us.”

the implication cuts deeper than it should. like getting married was some kind of betrayal. like you leaving home to come here wasn’t something they arranged. like the distance you’ve kept is a failing—not a survival.

you hear satoru draw a breath, his jaw ticking.

“why don’t we sit,” he says. “you’ve traveled a long way. you must be tired.”

your mother nods, but her gaze stays locked on you, heavy and expectant, like she’s waiting for you to justify yourself.

the seating arrangement feels like a trap. your mother perches on the edge of her chair across from you, posture flawless, hands folded in her lap. your father sits beside her, arms crossed, eyes flicking between you and satoru like he’s waiting for something to disappoint him. and satoru settles close beside you, his knee brushing yours—an anchor, even now.

“it’s a lovely house,” your mother says, but the tone is wrong. the kind of false pleasantry that leaves you bracing for the blow that follows. “though i must admit, i was surprised to find you so removed from the main estate. i would have thought your duties would keep you closer to the clan.”

your fingers twist in your lap, the fabric of your skirt crumpling beneath your grip. “it’s easier this way.”

“easier?” she echoes, the words clipped. her eyes narrow just enough to make your skin prickle. “i do hope you’re not neglecting your responsibilities for the sake of convenience.”

the way she says it knots your throat. and then she looks at you—really looks, scanning for fractures like she always does—and the judgement in her eyes makes your stomach drop.

“you look sick,” she says. “are you not eating properly?”

“i’m fine,” you answer, too fast and too small. “i’ve been… i’ve been adjusting.”

“adjusting,” she repeats, drawing the word out like it offends her. “i suppose that’s understandable. but you’ve been here for weeks. surely you’ve settled in by now.”

“maybe we should let her breathe,” satoru cuts in, his voice calm but threaded with something dangerous. “she’s been doing just fine. more than fine, actually.”

your mother’s gaze snaps to him. irritation crosses her features, mostly concealed, but you feel it, the same way you feel the tension crackle through satoru beside you.

“i appreciate your concern, but i’m her mother. it’s only natural to concern myself with her well-being.”

“and i’m her husband.” his smile is sharp. not friendly. not performative. it’s the kind that wouldn’t meet his eyes if you could see them. “i’d think that makes her well-being my concern, too.”

you can feel the heat rising between them, a low, simmering standoff. and you know satoru’s words aren’t meant as a reassurance. they’re a challenge, meant to draw lines rather than bridge them.

your father’s gaze drops to your hands, still clutching your skirt. “it’s good to know you take your responsibilities seriously,” he says to satoru. “but as her parents, it’s our duty to ensure she’s not neglecting hers. especially now that her role has… expanded.”

the implication is clear. and your heart sinks at the realization of what’s next.

“we haven’t heard any news of children,” your mother says smoothly. “surely you’ve been attending to the matter. it is your purpose, after all.”

your throat closes. you can’t speak, can’t even lift your head. because all you can think about is how you failed. how you offered yourself to satoru on your wedding night, like a task to be completed, and he’d turned you away.

how you’ve been letting him indulge you with stupid pleasures like that stupid kiss, and you still have no idea what you’re supposed to be doing, how you’re supposed to—

“maybe some things take time,” satoru says, his deceptively calm tone slicing through your thoughts.

your mother doesn’t miss a beat. “and maybe you’re not trying hard enough.”

her words are a blade, clean and cruel. the accusation is so sharp, so pointed, that you feel your eyes sting with the effort it takes to keep your composure. your hands tremble harder, your fingers grasping the fabric of your skirt so tightly that your knuckles hurt.

satoru’s jaw clenches, the muscle jumping beneath his skin. his hand curls into a fist against his knee. he keeps glancing your way, searching for something. permission, maybe. protest. anything.

and you want to say something. god, you want to speak. to shout, to scream, to tell them they’re wrong.

but the words won’t come.

they’re lodged deep in your chest, pinned under every expectation you’ve ever failed to meet. your mouth opens, but nothing comes out. your gaze drops to the floor.

it’s easier not to see their faces.

“it is your duty to bear children,” your father says. the words are quiet. impersonal. “i hope you haven’t been… distracted from that duty.”

his eyes flick toward satoru—just for a second—but it’s enough. an accusation without teeth, because he knows the balance of power here. but it cuts anyway.

satoru goes very still beside you, and his next words are lower, laced with warning. “and i hope you haven’t forgotten that she’s a person,” he says. “one living under my roof, under my care, may i add.”

his voice lingers in the room like smoke. and you can’t quite breathe around it.

because all you can feel is the guilt spreading through you—thick, acidic, impossible to shake. it curls in your chest, taking on a shape that feels familiar.

you’ve carried it your whole life.

your father rises from his seat with a quiet authority, eyes flicking to satoru. “i’d like to have a word with you. privately,” he says, and there’s something final about it—not a request, but a summons.

you glance at satoru, searching for reassurance as he nods. his expression is tight, his shoulders squared. but you catch the silent, aching apology buried under the tension in his jaw.

and then he’s gone. and the room feels colder without him.

you’re left alone with your mother, and in an instant, you’re fourteen again. small and silent across from her, waiting for whatever strategic correction she’s decided you need.

“your husband has a sharp tongue,” she says, her voice cool and condescending. “but i suppose that’s to be expected, given his… upbringing.”

you recognize the tone. it’s the one she’d use when explaining why you weren’t allowed to play with certain children. why some people weren’t raised right. she’s drawing a line again—this time between you and the man you married. the one they gave you to.

the contradiction makes your head ache.

“he’s been good to me,” you say. it’s the truth, but the words come out sound too soft.

she hums. “is this what you want?” the question cuts deep. “to live like this? away from the clan, from what i raised you to be?”

you want to say yes. you want to scream it. yes, i like the quiet. yes, i like the freedom. yes, i like being here with him.

but your voice snags on thorns, raw and helpless.

“i—i’m trying, mom,” you whisper. “i’m doing my best.”

“i certainly hope so,” she says. and somehow, the disappointment hurts more than her disapproval. “because from where i’m sitting, it doesn’t look like you are.”

the words settle into you like ice.

and then, like nothing happened, her tone softens. her gaze shifts. the performance begins.

“your father and i have been praying for you,” she says. “we’ve been asking god to guide you in your duties. to help you fulfill the purpose you were given.”

and just like that, the guilt swallows you.

you want to cry.

“i want you to have this.”

she reaches for something hidden in the folds of her sleeve. a necklace. ornate, heavy-looking, the gold glinting in the light with a soft gleam that feels wrong. the kind of thing intended for a velvet display, not a body.

she holds it out to you. you don’t reach for it.

“i had it made for you,” she continues, her tone tender now. like this is kindness. “a symbol of your devotion. a reminder of who you are and where you belong.”

the weight of it is crushing before you even touch it. the pendant is a cross, carved with precise, elaborate craftsmanship, rubies set into the center like droplets of blood. it must have taken hours—days—to make. each detail is perfect, intentional.

your fingers tremble as you take it from her, the metal chilling your skin. it doesn’t feel like a gift. it feels like a chain. like a collar.

“thank you,” you whisper. not because you mean it, but because there’s the alternative is unthinkable. because refusal was never part of the script. because the nausea crawling up your throat is something she taught you to swallow down.

tears burn at the back of your eyes, but you don’t let her see them. you know better than that.

“pray on it,” she says softly. “and remember your duty. remember who you belong to.”

you nod.

because the words are meant to be kind. you know they are. and somehow, that only makes it worse.

── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢ ・── ⟢

the rest of the visit feels like wading through cold water. conversations continue in that strained, brittle way you’ve come to expect. your father’s voice is curt, his eyes on you like you’re a ledger he’s reconciling. your mother’s comments are softened by false concern, the veneer of kindness stretched so thin you think it’ll crack.

satoru’s silence is worse.

he’s tight as a bowstring beside you, his frustration held on a leash. he speaks when spoken to, his responses short and neutral. you keep waiting for him to break—please, a part of you whispers, just say something—but he never does. for your sake, probably.

the goodbyes are stiff.

your mother presses a kiss to your cheek that feels more like a benediction than affection, her fingers cold and firm against your skin. your father gives you a nod—nothing more—like you’re a stranger he’s being forced to acknowledge.

they’re escorted back to the main estate where the car waits.

you and satoru stand in front of the house as the trees swallow the last of their silhouettes. he hasn’t moved, his arms still crossed tightly over his chest.

when they’re finally out of sight, he exhales. “they’re gone,” he says, voice flat. like it should mean something.

you nod, your eyes fixed on the empty path. the breeze stirs the trees, but everything feels still. your lungs won’t expand.

“are you… okay?”

you flinch at the question. not because it’s unfair, but because it’s valid.

and because the answer is no. you’re not okay. not even close. and him asking only makes the ache feel sharper.

“i need a moment,” you say, the words coming out too tight. “alone, please.”

the flash of hurt on his face is almost enough to make you take it back. almost.

“alright,” he says quietly. his hands flex once, then go still.

you don’t say anything else. you can’t.

instead, you turn and walk away, your steps heavy. and even though you don’t look back, you can feel him watching you all the way to the front door.

you don’t exhale until it closes behind you.

satoru watches you leave, his jaw clenched so tight his teeth hurt.

he lets you go because he doesn’t know what else to do. he wants to follow, wants to tear their words out of your head before they can take hold—but you asked for space, and he’s trying to give it.

it doesn’t make it any easier.

the house feels oppressive when he steps back inside. his frustration presses against his chest, restless and sharp, until he’s pacing—through the sitting room, past the kitchen and back again, around the main garden. his fingers twitch with the need to do something. anything.

but all he can think about is the way you looked when you asked to be alone. like he was just another weight dragging you under. like he was part of the problem.

it’s only when his pacing takes him past your bedroom door that he finally stops. something tells him not to open it. something else—louder, more desperate—won’t let him walk away.

his hand hovers just above the frame before he pushes the door open.

you’re on the floor, curled beside the bed. knees drawn to your chest, shoulders hunched like you’re trying to disappear. the necklace gleams in your palm, catching the dim light, too heavy and cruel for something so finely made.

you don’t look up.

“hey.” his voice is too small for the amount of space between you.

silence.

“i thought you’d be in the garden,” he tries, stepping in carefully. “but i guess not.”

your fingers tighten around the pendant. “didn’t feel like it.”

it’s the way you say it—flat, detached—that freezes something in him.

you’re drifting. pulling away from him even though he’s right here. and he doesn’t know how to bring you back.

he swallows hard, the helplessness thick in his throat. he would do anything to undo what they’ve done. to take every word they left behind and burn it until you never have to think about it again.

but all he can do is stand there. reaching for you without moving. wanting to fix what he doesn’t know how to touch.

and it makes him feel like a stranger in his own home. like a boy in a man’s skin. like the one thing that should come easy—loving you—is slipping through his fingers.

“can i sit?” he asks.

you nod without looking at him.

he lowers himself beside you, movements slow as if he’s trying not to disturb the silence. “you haven’t… said anything,” he tries, his voice too careful. “since they left.”

“there’s nothing to say,” you whisper. your voice is worn out, too thin.

silence stretches again. the longer it goes, the more it scrapes at him. minutes pass like hours, and satoru can feel it—frustration clawing beneath his skin, helplessness piling on top of it. he’s losing you. right here, right in front of him.

“come on, angel,” satoru says, his voice soft now, rough edges smoothed over by something almost pleading. “talk to me, please.” his voice catches on the last word, and he hates how desperate it feels. “you’ve barely looked at me since they got here.”

you flinch. the necklace slips from your hands and lands in your lap.

“i don’t know what you want me to say.”

he hesitates. then lets the frustration bleed out.

“i want you to say they’re wrong.”

the words come out harsh, too blunt. but it’s the truth. and now that it’s out, he’s not sure how to stop himself.

“i want you to realize what they think doesn’t matter. that you’re—”

“stop.” your voice cuts clean through his. trembling, but clear. “just stop. you don’t understand.”

his chest hurts. “make me understand.”

the challenge in his voice feels reckless. too much edge, too much need. still, he can’t back down. not when you’re slipping further away with every second.

“you heard what they said.” your voice frays at the edges. “about… duty. about children. and they’re right. i’m not—” you stop to swallow, but it’s like your throat is closing around the words. “i’m not doing what i’m supposed to do. i’m failing you.”

satoru knows what it feels like to be stabbed clean through the chest, but this feels worse. like the blade is poisoned. he wants to argue, but the look on your face stops him cold. you’re not arguing. you’re breaking.

“why would you even think that?” he asks, his voice smaller now, irritation replaced with something closer to panic.

“because i was supposed to get this right.” you won’t look at him. won’t meet his eyes. “i was supposed to… to handle my responsibility. and i haven’t. i—” your breathing hiccups, your chest shaking under the weight of it. “you’re supposed to have a dependable wife. someone who can give you what you need. and you’re stuck with me.”

he doesn’t think you’re aware of what you’re doing. of how you’re gutting him.

“you’re not—” he starts, but it comes out too rough. he pulls back, breathes through it, tries again. “you’re not some thing to be used or traded.”

his voice breaks on thing. he hates it. hates how clear it is that you believe it’s all you are.

he shifts closer, his voice thick. “you’re a person. my person now.”

the words echo between you, quiet but heavy, and he watches as something crumbles in your expression.

“then why didn’t you just—” you swallow hard. “why didn’t you do what you were supposed to do the night we got married?”

the question feels like a slap to the face. for once, satoru is speechless.

“what?”

“you should’ve done what a husband does,” you say, and it’s not just hurt in your voice anymore—it’s something bitter, something that burns him. “you should’ve taken what was yours. that’s what you were supposed to do. it’s what they wanted, what they expected. what i expected. and if you cared, you wouldn’t keep… holding yourself back.”

his pulse kicks up. his chest tightens.

he thought he understood. thought he was ready for the venom your parents would bring back into your life. but this isn’t theirs.

this is you. your voice, your pain. and it’s laced with something he didn’t expect—misunderstanding.

“i didn’t—” he tries to answer, but the words catch, rough and misshapen. “i didn’t do anything because you didn’t want that. you didn’t even know what you were asking for.”

“you don’t know what i wanted.” the words spill out like poison, like they’ve been festering for weeks. “i offered. i offered myself to you, and you told me to go to sleep. you didn’t want me.”

he realizes, too late, that you never understood why he said no that night. it made perfect sense to him, something that didn’t even need explaining. you were scared. uncertain. so he told you to sleep.

but now he sees what it looked like from the other side. not care, but rejection. not safety, but shame.

and it hurts.

your voice breaks, high and strained as you continue. “you still don’t want me. you’re just… humoring me, trying to be kind when i’m clearly not worth it. and it’s humiliating, satoru.”

your eyes are welling up, your lashes wet with the weight of everything you’ve been holding, everything that’s finally spilling over.

the sight tears something open in him.

“you really think that’s why i turned you down?” he whispers, hoarse. ”because i didn’t want you?”

you don’t answer right away. your lips part, then press together again, like you’re trying to swallow back the worst of it.

“i don’t know,” you admit, your voice trembling. “i just know i’ve been trying to be good. trying not to make anything harder than it has to be. and it’s not enough. not for them, not for you—”

you pause, breath catching.

“—not even for me.”

he reaches for you before he can stop himself. his hand wraps around your wrist, warm and steady, but there’s a tremor in it. something frantic.

“you’re not failing me.” his words come rushed, clumsy, because he’s never been good at this. never been good at making sense when it matters. “you’re—you’re everything.”

a harsh, broken sound tears from your throat, and it hits him like a dagger. his grip loosens on instinct, but he doesn’t let go. he can’t.

“if i was everything,” you choke out, voice cracking like glass under pressure, “you’d actually—you’d actually want me. you wouldn’t be wasting hours in the garden with me and kissing me like it’s all you need and pitying me.”

he can’t even comprehend the words. not at first. he just stares, stunned, mouth parting uselessly—because you’re crying now, really crying, and he’s the one making it worse.

“i need you to stop it, satoru,” you whisper, your voice too small for the weight of the words. “just—just stop.”

he’s fucking this up.

the realization sinks in slow.

no matter what he says, it’s not helping. it’s just making you hurt worse.

your shoulders are curled in like you’re trying to protect yourself from something he can’t see. a curse he can’t fight.

“i’m not—” your words trip and stumble, barely holding together. “i’m not what you need. not what anyone needs. and they’re right. they’re right about me, and you just—” you gasp for air, but it doesn’t seem to help. ”you won’t admit it.”

“that’s not—” he tries, but his voice gives out. the words collapse in his mouth before they can make it to you.

you’re not even looking at him anymore. your eyes are fixed somewhere past him, blank and distant, like you’re bracing for a blow.

“it’s not enough,” you rasp. “i’m not enough. i keep trying and it’s—” you cut yourself off with another gasp, your chest rising too fast. “it’s not working. i don’t know how to be what they want. i don’t even know how to be what you want.”

“angel, you need to—”

“stop calling me that.”

the words are a blade. sharp and cold and final. satoru’s mouth snaps closed.

“stop acting like i’m some perfect precious thing when you don’t even—when you won’t even—”

your voice breaks completely.

he watches your chest rise and fall like it’s too much effort to keep the air in your lungs. and suddenly, he’s not angry anymore. not even frustrated. he’s scared.

you’re slipping.

“hey. hey—” his own voice is cracking now, his panic bubbling up alongside yours.

but you’re shaking your head, lips pressed tightly together, and he can see the tears streaking down your cheeks. your hands are clutching each other, your body curling tighter with each breath that stays just out of reach.

“just breathe for me, okay?” he pleads, moving closer. “please, just—just breathe. you’re alright.”

he’s reaching for something solid in the chaos, fumbling over comfort because it’s a language he never learned. nothing’s working. nothing is working.

and then he sees it—really sees it. the panic in your eyes. the way your nails bite into your palms. the necklace still glinting in your lap like a burden. every piece of you bursting at the seams.

“i’m sorry,” you gasp. “i’m sorry i’m not—that i can’t—”

he moves before he can think.

his arms wrap around you in one motion, pulling you tight into his chest, anchoring you to him like it’s the only thing he has left.

“i got you,” he murmurs, over and over, the panic in his own chest dulling under your weight. “it’s okay, you’re okay.”

your fingers twist in his clothes. your breath comes in uneven gasps against his chest, and satoru can feel each one like it’s scraping against his ribs. still, he doesn’t loosen his grip. doesn’t let up for a second.

he keeps talking because it’s all he can do. his voice is low and steady, a soft rhythm meant to keep you tethered. “everything’s fine,” he murmurs. “it’s just us right now, nothing else matters. just breathe, angel. in and out.”

he feels your breath catch against him, feels your tears soaking into his shirt. you’re falling apart in his arms, and all he can do is hold on. his hand moves in slow circles along your back, a motion that grounds the both of you.

but it’s killing him.

because this isn’t what he wanted. he didn’t want to see you like this. he didn’t want his arms to be the place you broke.

his own eyes sting. there’s pressure behind them, sharp and unbearable, and he has to blink it back before it spills over. but it’s there—thick in his throat, hot under his skin. he can’t let it out while you’re still holding on by threads.

you’re still shaking, but your breathing is evening out, the jagged edge of panic smoothing over into something more manageable. he can feel the fight draining out of you, leaving something fragile and exhausted in its place.

he doesn’t let go. not until the tension in your body melts under his hands, your weight shifting just slightly under him.

“i’m not mad at you,” he says, barely above a whisper. “i’m not. i just… i just want you to be okay.”

the words feel clumsy, inadequate. but he can’t think of anything better. nothing that will fix this the way he wants to.

your voice is muffled against his chest. “i don’t know how to be okay.”

his heart cracks a little more. because of course you don’t. because they raised you to be perfect, not okay.

he swallows hard against the lump in his throat. “then we’ll figure it out,” he says, and it sounds like a vow this time. “i don’t care how long it takes.”

but even as he says it—means it—something caves in his chest. because today was supposed to be simple. all he had to do was protect you from them. and instead he watched them tear you apart and made it worse trying to put you back together.

he wasn’t fast enough.

he wasn’t enough.

and still, all he can do is hold you and hope it counts for something.

he stays there with you until the tremble in your hands fades and your breathing settles into something soft and slow. until your body settles against him, no longer shaking—just quiet. just tired.

and then, finally, he lets himself pull away.

he doesn’t want to.

everything in him is screaming to hold on, to stay. to keep you close until the hurt dissolves, until you believe him when he says you’re not broken, until he can see something in your eyes besides this brittle, aching weight.

but you’re too fragile now. and he’s already made this worse.

his hands move to cradle your face, wiping stray tears away with his thumbs.

“i think—” his voice feels raw, like he’s been screaming when all he’s done today is choke on his own words. “i think we should talk about this another time. when you’re ready. because…” he exhales, barely holding it together. “i’m not helping, am i?”

you don’t answer. not with words. you bite your lip like you’re trying to hold the silence in place. and it kills him.

“take your time,” he says. he leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead—soft, lingering, like a promise. “i’ll be here when you’re ready.” his voice cracks again, and he wonders if you can hear it.

he stands.

and leaves.

because even though it feels like tearing something out of his own chest, it’s the only thing that makes sense.

161 notes · View notes

riossboy · 3 days ago

Text

- Your Hoodie

Pairing : emo!wanda x avenger!reader Word Count : 2.3K. Summary : You'd been off on a mission, Wanda missed you quite a bit. She decided to wear your hoodie, it took a turn of events when you saw her. This happens often when she wears your hoodie. Content Warning : masturbation (W), fingering, facesitting, strap-on. transgender ftm reader. possessiveness, lots of smut and a lot more fluff. R has a boycunt. switch W & R. A/N : this was inspired by Carter's post here! p.s. this is my first time actually writing smut, i apologize if it sucks.

Baking cookies had always been fun, and you decided to try making some yourself to surprise your girlfriend. She often made you baked goods, so returning the favor seemed nice. However, you ended up getting flour, eggs, and chocolate chips everywhere—on the counter, on your hands, and even on your face from rubbing your cheek. When Wanda walked into the common area and turned toward the kitchen, she burst into laughter, and you pouted in response. “Hey! I’m doing my best to bake!” you huff, crossing your arms. When you turn your head, you find her wearing your hoodie. She looks so beautiful. “Mhmm, you’re doing amazing, baby. Want me to help? Come on, let me assist you.” Her soft-spoken voice makes your heart flutter even more. She steps into the kitchen and approaches you first. Wanda gently wipes the flour smeared on your face. “Why are we making cookies?” she asks. You blush softly and reply, “For you…" Wanda’s smirk widens at that. "Such a sweet boy, aren’t you?” she says, pecking your lips.

Wanda takes over from there. You’re not the worst at baking and cooking, but you can be a bit clumsy, often managing to hurt yourself in minor ways. To Wanda, though, these minor injuries seem like the worst ever—probably because she loves you and tends to exaggerate a bit.

Watching her move around the kitchen in your hoodie makes it hard to concentrate. The fabric swallows her body, reaching down to her thighs and covering most of her. She has to roll up the sleeves just right to keep them from falling down as she rolls the dough into balls and places them meticulously on the pan.

“Pretty boy, is the oven preheated?” Wanda asks, snapping you out of your daze.

“Uhh…” You turn to the oven and breathe a sigh of relief. “Yep!” Preheating the oven is something you often forget.

It’s such a forgettable task. Thankfully, you didn’t forget this time; she would’ve scolded you, saying something about how you’re so forgetful. How could you not be? She’s your girlfriend. And she’s very distracting, to say the least.

—

A few weeks later:

Exhaustion washes over you in waves. It began as a mild fatigue, a product of a long mission that left you feeling gritty and in desperate need of a shower. As you made your way back to the Tower, Sam's voice filled the silence, but you couldn't muster the energy to engage. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to listen—perhaps you just didn’t have it in you.

At last, you reached the Avengers Tower, dragging your feet as you stepped into the elevator, each floor feeling like a small eternity. When you finally arrived at your room, you paused, hearing soft sounds that were almost… moans? Your heart raced. Was Wanda in your room? Tentatively, you pushed the door open.

What you saw made your cheeks flush a deep pink.

Wanda lay stretched out on your bed, wearing your baggy hoodie that draped over her frame. Her hand rested between her thighs, revealing she wasn’t wearing shorts. Her eyeliner was slightly smudged, and her cheeks were flushed with effort.

“What a sight,” you whispered, quickly shutting and locking the door behind you. She jumped slightly at your voice, then flashed a playful smirk.

“Hey, baby… care to join?” she invited, her voice carrying a tantalizing, breathy quality.

You nodded, eagerly approaching the bed. As soon as you lay flat, Wanda straddled your head, her breath quick with anticipation. “Oh!” she gasped as your lips pressed a gentle kiss to her slightly swollen clit.

Without hesitation, you parted her thighs, fingers pressing into her skin as your tongue traced broad, tantalizing strokes along her slit. You teased her for a moment before she grabbed your hair, pulling you closer. With a low laugh, you plunged your tongue deep inside her, then wrapped your lips around her sensitive clit and suckled gently.

“F-fuck, just like that, baby,” she moaned, her eyes half-closed as she rocked her hips against your face, lost in sensation.

The hoodie hung loosely over her body, prompting you to keep lifting it. Instead, you slipped your hands under the fabric, gently cupping her breasts. With soft pinches, twists, and circles, you teased Wanda’s nipples, heightening the moment and creating an intimate atmosphere. The air seemed charged with an electric connection.

Wanda was on the brink, tension coiling in her stomach. Her grip tightened on your hair. “Mhmm, keep going. Don’t stop, please, oh!”

Her eyes rolled back slightly as waves of pleasure surged through her. You continued your attentions until, overwhelmed, she rolled off and lay beside you, breathless.

“Thank you for that, my sweet boy,” she murmured, her voice full of gratitude. You beamed, warmth spreading through your chest at the praise. “Anything for my lovely girl.” Leaning in, you kissed her deeply, savoring the taste of her on your lips, a reminder of the connection you shared.

Suddenly, Wanda sits up with a mischievous smirk. “I’m not going to leave you hanging—strip,” she commands. Embarrassment floods you as you quickly remove your pants and boxers.

Bare from the waist down, you watch as Wanda spreads your legs and settles between them. “Hmm, what should I do with my handsome boy? Use my fingers on his boycunt? No? What about…” With a snap of her fingers, a strap appears attached to a harness on her hips in an instant.

“My cock, baby?” she teases, the smirk playing on her lips. Your eyes widen as your cheeks flush even deeper. “Yes… yes… yes please, Wanda,” you whisper breathily, almost losing your breath.

She starts by gently rubbing the tip of her cock against your clit, sending a light throb of pleasure through you. Your eyes flutter closed as she murmurs, “Beg. Beg for my cock.”

No sooner have her words left her lips than you snap your eyes open and protest, “I’m not gonna beg you!” You roll your eyes dramatically, which only deepens Wanda’s smile. “Oh yeah? So you don’t want my strap, hmm?” she teases. With a small whine of frustration, mingled with desire that makes your boypussy throb with need, you concede, “F-fine! Just… please fuck me. I need you, please.”

Slowly, she guides the strap to your entrance, taking her time as she thrusts into you. Your cunt grips the toy like a vice during those slow, gentle, and sweet thrusts—the hallmark of Wanda’s tender touch. That is until she hears your adorable moans. “Please… please, Wands,” you cry out, your body trembling with pleasure.

“Harder,” you groan, a sound that delights her. “Faster!” you add, and Wanda obliges, increasing the pace as she thrusts into your velvety boypussy. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes off the surrounding walls, and your moans swell in tandem with the deep pleasure you feel.

Wanda’s fingers dig into your hips, pulling you even closer while her silicone cock shifts deeper inside, drawing a choked sob from you. The overwhelming sensation builds a tight coil in your stomach as your orgasm approaches. “Gonna…” your voice trails off into another moan.

“Are you gonna cum, baby?” she coaxes softly, moving her right hand in a slow circle over your clit while her other hand caresses your cheek. Pressing a warm kiss to your lips, she whispers, “Cum for me, my love.” She continues her steady rhythm until you’re falling apart around the strap.

Your body tenses, arching back as waves of orgasmic pleasure consume you. Wanda doesn’t stop her thrusting until she senses that the pulsing in your clit has finally subsided. Gently, she withdraws the strap and sets it aside for later. “You okay?” she asks, tenderly stroking your cheek.

“Mhmm,” you murmur noncommittally, nestling close as she wraps an arm around you. In that intimate moment, it’s clear—you are the cutest boyfriend in the world, and Wanda is utterly in love with you.

About thirty minutes have gone by when Wanda started coaxing you to stand and go towards the bathroom. You both very much needed a shower. You were still somewhat grimy from the mission you had recently come back from, but you and Wanda couldn’t resist having a little of fun before showering.

The shower was quick and painless. A few more orgasms were shared between you two.

Once you’re out, you realize the tape you’ve been binding with is starting to lift. “Hey baby?” you call softly, Wanda turns to you. Already half dressed.

“Can you help me re-apply my tape?” your question makes Wanda smile, she loves that you trust her like this. “Of course, my baby! Come come, let’s get this off you.”

She uses this oil that was made for peeling off trans-tape. Once the old tape is off, she helps you gently clean off the remaining adhesive. “There we go… now for the new tape.”

Wanda goes into the cabinet. Grabbing the small box of tape. She cuts three small pieces and three slightly larger ones. Peeling the back of one piece, she starts helping you apply the binding tape to your chest.

Once fully applied, Wanda kisses your bare sternum. You look down at her, pupils dilated. God, you’re so in love with this woman. She cares for you in ways you never believed anyone ever would.

“I love you,” you murmur. Her smile brightens. Wanda straightens her body and kisses you on the lips. “I love you more, my cutie.”

—

Another time, Wanda had slipped into your hoodie and worn it proudly into the world. It was on a Saturday morning when you had gently nudged her awake, sunlight peeking through the windows like a cheeky intruder. Morning, after all, was not Wanda’s favorite time of day. She had rolled over with a groan, shielding her eyes and burying her head under a pillow to avoid what she felt was an unnecessarily bright sun. Her halfhearted protests had been muffled and sleepy, until she finally relented and got up with a huff. Her movements had been lazy when she pulled on her favorite pair of ripped jeans and a sweater, the latter chosen from the floor without her even looking. It wasn’t until you were both halfway to the café that she realized she'd grabbed your hoodie, but she decided that it was comfortable—and defiantly kept it on.

At the cafe, the air was thick with the smell of espresso and sugar, a hum of quiet chatter in the background. You let Wanda alone for only a moment, leaving her at a small table near the window as you went to retrieve your drinks. In the brief seconds that you were gone, a stranger approached her, the person’s shoes softly scraping against the tiles. With a wide smile, they said, “Hey, I like your hoodie.” Your heart sank, a grimace pressing across your face as you watched from the sidelines, curious and slightly irritated to see how Wanda would handle this unexpected situation.

“Oh? Oh, thanks. I guess.” Wanda’s response was casual, a certain ambivalence in her shrug. She was fully aware that it was your hoodie and not her own, but that was besides the point. A compliment was still a compliment.

The person’s smile grew even wider as if encouraged. “Of course! What’s your name? You’re quite a pretty lady,” they said, leaning in slightly. The words nudged a sharp annoyance into your chest. Wanda was indeed stunning, beautiful in every way, but she was with you. She was not available. She was yours.

Without hesitation, you decided to intervene. “Oh baby! Here’s your tea, just how you like it.” You announced loudly enough for the person to hear, your possessiveness sliding into your voice. You pressed a quick kiss to Wanda’s temple, savoring the fading of the intruder's smile. Realization washed over the person’s face. They clearly hadn’t recognized that your relationship with Wanda was romantic. Until you appeared, you two seemed like nothing more than friends to them.

“Thanks, handsome! Sorry, I didn’t get your name…” Wanda turned back to the now-fumbling person. Who, embarrassed, waved off the question and mumbled something about needing to go order. You couldn’t help but smirk.

Sitting down together in the now-relaxed space, you both chatted leisurely. About your plans, about how best to spend the rest of the day, how indecisive you both were. “So, how’s my hoodie treating you?” An amused grin crept over your lips, feeling confident in a way you didn’t around others. Watching the soft blush paint her cheeks was powerful, intoxicating. She hadn’t blushed for the random person earlier, but here she was, bashful from your silly comment. “You think I’m hot in your hoodie, don’t you?” she teased back, her tone playful.

“Obviously. It’s hot when my girlfriend where’s my clothes.”

“You’re annoying.” Wanda giggled, the sound light and sweet, her eyes crinkling with mirth and affection.

Your smirk softened into a look full of true adoration. “You love me.”

Wanda nodded with playful certainty, reaching across the table to take your hand and weaving her fingers between yours. You watched her press a gentle kiss to your palm, savoring the warmth of the moment and the place. She murmured with a heartfelt and teasing tenderness, “I do. Love you, I do love you.”

There she was. Such a beautiful, intelligent, and caring girlfriend you have. Sitting there in your hoodie, looking like she had stolen the world.

By the time you both got home, it was dark and the world outside was quieting down. There was a stillness in the compound as Wanda immediately sank into the couch with a satisfied sigh. She was like a cat finding a perfect sunbeam. You opened the windows and settled down beside her with a blanket to watch the sky put on its own show of stars.

Neither of you were hungry yet, so you decided to wait until later to make dinner. Wanda stretched out, using your lap as a pillow, and you idly played with her hair while talking about everything and nothing.

The night ends perfectly. With you and Wanda wrapped up with each other.

#riossboy #ᗢ rio’s writing #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x transboy!reader #trans ftm!reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda x you #emo!wanda

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harrysgal · 17 hours ago

Text

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (12)

harry styles x yn aspiring filmmaker — social media AU

About the smau: yn starts posting videos on youtube and is trying to build a career as a filmmaker. Things are going pretty well for her and she starts getting more attention when she creates content about shows she goes to. She’s also a fan of Harry’s music and some of his fans start getting suspicious when his team starts interacting with her.

Disclaimer: The story it’s set in 2021 and it will follow their relationship through the LOT leg in the US. Since this is nothing but fiction, I will be following some of the real timeline but also adding my own stuff. On top of that, I won’t be basing myself on Harry’s actual posts.

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

PART 11 // MASTERLIST

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

I DIG YOUR CINEMA (PART 12) — STILL IN NYC

liked by bestfriend, lookitsnyoh, sisterinlaw and 47,813 others

yourinstagram nyc this is not a drill: my favorite person in the whole wide world is here and even tho she’s just arrived she’s not wasting any time!! i mean ive barely recovered from how freaking good the show was but im already out here having yet another greatest night thanks to her. god i missed you ＠bestfriend lets find you a fake job too so you never leave my side okay? okay love youuuuuuu

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bestfriend COUNTDOWN IS OVERRRRRR bestfriend WE FINALLY MEET AGAINNNNN bestfriend WHERE IS MY PIZZAAAAAA user3 the chaotic energy i get from these two is so healing istg harrystyles I feel betrayed

↳ yourinstagram no boys allowed when it’s girls night ↳ bestfriend you’re invited next time tho we’ll make an exception

harryfan1 harry can you please just follow her already ftlog you’re here all the time anyway harryfan5 aaaaaaaa it happened it finally happened!! user1 omg I’m so happy for you, so excited! I guess this means she’s going to the second show, right? 🤩 harryfan3 OKAY BUT I NEED TO KNOW ＠bestfriend did you meet harry already or?? I mean how was it are you okay did you fangirl PLS SHARE user2 is ＠bestfriend getting her own short video like your mom did?

↳ harryfan7 omg that’s so true I remember when that came up she was doing those videos all the time and now we haven’t gotten one in so long 😭

Oct 3, 2021 •

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

liked by harryfan1, user1, ynrryfan and 317 others

ynupdates Hey guys! As many of you already know, ＠bestfriend turned her ig private right when Yn joined Harry Styles on tour and her number of followers it’s pretty low.

Luckily for us, as soon as we created the account and started posting about Yn, she followed us. We were only able to follow her back after a little while, but since then we’ve been able not only to stay in touch with her but also to keep up with her posts.

All this time we’ve been very supportive and respectful of her privacy and never shared any pictures or information related to Yn (or even mentioned anything existed in the first place).

This weekend, though, the two best friends are finally reunited ❤️ it was a surprise for all of us, and the excitement we felt when we saw these stories was really hard to contain. So… We reached out to ＠bestfriend and asked if we could share these with you — to which she very kindly said yes! (if we promised to cover yn’s face, of course)

With that being said, we hope you enjoy these glimpses posted by Yn’s best friend during the day. Pictures include them sightseeing in NYC this morning, the cutest pose by the one and only Harry Styles, a cake from backstage at the Madison Square Garden, and Yn doing her job right before the show!

We’re so happy and so thankful that we get to freak out about all this with you! Share your thoughts with us, and let’s show our love to the coolest best friend who is also the most supportive we’ve ever seen!

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user1 ahhh!! I follow her too and I freak out every time I see anything. I’m so happy to know she was okay with you guys sharing this ❤️ user2 uh-oh… this place is about to get so crowded… harryfan1 oh my goodness look at him???!??!???? harryfan3 they’re all hanging out together?! I need more details pls user3 let me innnnnnnn user4 everyone say THANK YOU BESTIE

↳ user5 THANK YOU BESTIE ↳ harryfan5 THANK YOU BESTIE

user6 I’m not a fan of Harry Styles but damn he looks hot harryfan7 guys I’m so jealous I wanna follow her too :(((( harryfan9 okay but what if she posts about the show?? and more pictures of him?? will you share everything with us???

↳ harryfan11 say yes please ↳ ynupdates only if she’s okay with it :) we will never share anything without her consent!

harryfan13 real talk now: how many secrets have you been keeping all to yourself since you’ve followed her?

↳ ynupdates 🫣🤐

ynrryfan THOSE ARE MY PARENTS AND MY MOTHER ynrryfan THANK YOU ＠bestfriend WE LOVE YOU ynrry THANK YOU ＠ynupdates WE LOVE YOU TOO harryfan8 ???? wtf

Oct 4, 2021 •

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liked by bestfriend, annetwist, harrystyles and 51,335 others

yourinstagram second show in nyc is over guys 🥺

gosh im supposed to be out celebrating rn but ive been in my hotel room staring and smiling at the only two pics i took tonight. i honestly cant believe how genuinely happy i feel. i never tried to hide how much i love harry’s music, or how to be able to watch him perform my favorite songs every night is a dream come true for me. but then to be there with ＠bestfriend singing and dancing to OUR favorite songs is something so extraordinary i cant even imagine putting it into words. she was there when i needed someone to push me so i finally started posting videos on youtube, she cheered me on, and she supported me all the way through every achievement. but above all that, she was also there when i was going through the lowest period of my life. when i didnt want to leave my bed and when i could barely recognize myself anymore. she was there and she never let go of my hand. just like she still wont let go of it until this day. life isnt perfect and not every day is the happiest, but every day i feel the luckiest for having such an amazing friend next to me. ily bestie and thank you for sharing this moment with me!

also and finally (before someone comes knocking on my door and yelling at me for how late i am…….), i just wanna warn you that i’ll be the most annoyingly happy person in nyc tonight. i had the greatest time of my life and im so over the moon that im not the least embarrassed of being this emotional or this dramatic or this unbothered by my silly grammar and punctuation!! lol all jokes aside these people around me make me smile everyday and there’s nothing but gratitude and love towards them. thank you thank you thank you. to all of you. my favorite fake friends. you smashed it tonight and im sure madison square garden had never seen such talented gorgeous wonderful people take over a stage like you did the past two days. im proud and ily all.

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bestfriend shut up bestfriend did we just post pictures of the same moment? bestfriend we so did! bestfriend ugh i love you so much there are no words to describe it bestfriend my fav song was even included on the set list i feel like i won the lottery or something lookitsnyoh there’s nothing but gratitude and love towards you, too 🧚 pillowpersonpp Let’s cheers to that tonight! user1 ahh, i love your friendship! user1 also i just remembered when you bought harry’s album with your first paycheck and you mentioned something about your ex being jealous so he didn’t want you to buy it?

↳ harryfan55 wait, what? Where did you see that? ↳ user1 she posted about it months ago ↳ bestfriend hahahaha ↳ bestfriend thats so true and im so drinking to that tonight

annetwist ❤️ harryfan4 I’m sorry (I’m not) but there’s nothing you can say that will make me change my mind about you ynrryfan this tour is the greatest thing that’s ever happened to me harryfan5 please never change harryfan7 wheres harry am i finally here before him???

↳ harryfan9 lol im afraid he only liked the post this time

Oct 4, 2021 •

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— — — — —

PART 13 — (soon)

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Tag list: @tchlamqtsgf @theekyliepage @deamus-liv @hotchnersangel @gem1712 @firelordzu @stylessbean @this-is-tiny-mia — PLEASE READ: I’ll only add to the next tag list those who interact with this post. I hope you understand, thank you for your excitement.

#harry styles fake ig #harry styles fake instagram #harry styles fake social media #harry styles smau #harry styles social media au #harry styles writing #harry styles fanfic #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles fic

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what-if-i-like-my-mechs-older · 1 day ago

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If there was one thing Orion could say for his secret admirer, is that he seemed to make sure he wouldn't leave until he'd been put offline for the night and woke up clean as if he'd been through a deep clean at a car wash at Sumdacs.

The Autobot stretched and turned over in his berth, arms folded he rested his cheek on them.

One day he'd find him still there, maybe he should start asking the mechs he slept with if they were alright with staying the night, he wouldn't mind a little cuddle, kiss and coo.

However his thoughts were interrupted when he was met with a pair or red optics and a nose gently nudging at him.

Orion reached over and picked Ravage up , smiling brightly as he cuddled him, Ravages back to his chest as he kissed the top of his head.

The panther Decepticon definitely hadn't been expecting that, but this was ...nice , but should he tell him he wasn't like the Earth ca-

Soon he was receiving scratches under his chin and decided , no, no, I can be a house cat for the moment, this is too relaxing and I can sense from the idiots field he needs this.

He knew how kind Orion had been to Rumble and Frenzy , but as this went on he couldn't help but start purring in contentment, maybe he should doze off here.

"You know Ravage, one of the things I've enjoyed about being here is that , I don't have to be a leader, I get to be like everyone else, just a Cybertronian."

Ravage listened , still pretending for the moment he couldn't talk, but internally rolled his optics, so Optimus really didn't know he brought a strangely calming effect to the other soldiers, there had certainly been less infighting.

Of course though, Orion did argue a lot with Soundwave....nnnnrgh it was hard to think when the petting was so relaxing he could even tolerate the 'who's a cute kitty cat' coming from Pax , just so long as he didn't stop, he even accepted the fuss Optimus made of his paw pads, only because it was amusing to see a Prime be so gooey over him.

The autobot heard the door open and immediately stopped , pretending to be asleep like a kid who'd just narrowly escaped being found out by their mother.

Nope, he wasn't getting up, see his optics were closed and everything, he was clearly asleep.

"Orion, Megatron has decided to up your clearance as you've made no attempt to escape or even sway soldiers into helping you escape so you could see the Autobots."

He cracked an eye open and frowned.

Ah it was Soundwave.

"No, carrier, can't you see I'm asleep, I'm being a good bot."

(In other words he just sarcastically called him mum)

Soundwave paused as he went over his data pad.

"I will ignore your sarcastic comment Pax and-"

Orion reached up and pressed one of the buttons on Soundwaves pelvis making the Decepticon faulter.

"Pax, what are you doing?"

Soundwave grumbled holding his wrist.

"Trying to find the snooze button."

He extended his fingers and pressed another.

This time Soundwave slapped his hand away, he could feel his frame stirring and he wasn't going to let him get to him like that.

"Ow."

"You brought it on yourself."

Soundwave returned dropping the pad on him.

"Past mission reports, apparently Lord Megatron believes a fresh pair of optics might help see anything that we've missed."

"In other words, more desk work."

"Affirmative."

Soundwave stated, opening up his chest window, he notice Orion craning his head, clearly curious about the inner workings.

"Ravage return."

Orion sat up when Ravage obeyed, hoping to get a proper look , but Soundwave was quick to snap it shut.

"Oh you're no fun, probably just jealous that I wasn't playing with your pu-"

He huffed only to make a gagging sound as the end of Soundwaves blaster was pushed into his mouth, the white frame at the end of it pressed against his tongue as the tip hit the back of his throat.

The energy from it tingled over his glossa, an optic ridge raise as a smirk formed as best it could.

"Un hay, di'hun hoe ou er inho hat."

(Gun play, didn't know you were into that.)

Soundwave understood what he'd said and pressed it firmer against his tongue.

"There's many things you don't know about me, now return to work, I'm sure Lord Megatron would enjoy your company."

He pulled the blaster from Orions mouth, seeing the fang marks in it, he couldn't really be upset, it was his own fault for putting it there.

Orion looked at the pad he'd been given muttering under his breath.

"Miserable old aft."

"Petulant Autobrat."

"Wait you heard that?"

Soundwave's expression behind the mask had a wickedly delightful smile.

"I hear many things Pax, you and your visitor were far from quiet."

Well now , he hadn't expected him to blush , but he left him alone on that note to carry on with his duties.

Image for those who can't remember what Soundwave's hand gun looks like.

First

#transformers animated #transformers g1 #optimus prime #optimus tfa #megop #megatron g1 #cross over #megatron #writing this for me #soundwave #soundwave g1

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slut4axkles · 1 day ago

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(⊹ ࣪🧸ྀི) ─ BEHAVE FOR ME: YOU WERE ALWAYS GONNA FALL FOR HIM ── JENSEN ACKLES

pairings.ᐟ ─ dom!jensen ackles x sub!fem reader

summary.ᐟ ─ You spent the night teasing Jensen, pushing his buttons just to see what would happen—and now, he’s about to teach you a lesson in obedience.

notes.ᐟ ─ Dominant!Jensen, power play, rough sex, dirty talk, spanking, praise & degradation, established relationship.

warnings.ᐟ ─ 18+ explicit content, choking, spanking, rough sex, slight humiliation, possessiveness, praise/degradation kink, overstimulation. (Read at your own risk! 😉🔥)

word count.ᐟ 1.0k

You knew exactly what you were doing.

All night, you had been pushing him. Laughing just a little too sweetly, batting your lashes at some guy you barely remembered the name of, letting your dress ride up your thighs just enough to test his patience. It was a dangerous game, one you played often.

But tonight? You may have really fucked up.

Jensen didn’t say a word the entire drive back to the hotel. Just sat there, his jaw tight, fingers flexing on the steering wheel like he was barely keeping himself in check.

That should’ve been your warning.

The moment the door clicked shut behind you, he snapped.

Jensen was on you before you could take another step, slamming you back against the door, caging you in with his body. The heat rolling off him was suffocating, but it wasn’t anger—it was something else. Something much, much darker.

"You think I wouldn't notice?" His voice was a low growl, rumbling through his chest as he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him. His green eyes were blown wide, his smirk anything but playful. "Think you could bat those pretty fuckin’ lashes and get away with that shit?"

You swallowed hard, but the way his fingers flexed against your skin made you tremble for a very different reason.

"You wanted my attention?" he murmured, dragging his thumb over your bottom lip before pressing it inside your mouth. "You got it."

His other hand skimmed down your body, rough fingers teasing the hem of your dress, slipping underneath like he owned you. His thumb pressed down on your tongue, making you whimper as he tilted his head.

"Look at you," he mused, watching the way your lips parted, your tongue curling around him instinctively. "So fuckin’ obedient now."

Your knees wobbled when his fingers finally dipped between your thighs, pushing aside your panties to find you already soaked. His smirk deepened, like you had just proven his point.

"Jesus," he groaned, pressing against your entrance, barely dipping in. "You that desperate for me, sweetheart?"

You whimpered, rocking your hips, silently begging him for more.

Jensen chuckled, but instead of giving you what you wanted, he pulled his fingers away completely. You let out a frustrated little whine before his palm cracked against your ass, the sharp sting making you jolt.

"Brats don’t get to be greedy," he tsked, gripping your hip to keep you still. "You take what I give you. Understand?"

"Y-yes," you gasped, breath hitching as his hands slid back up, gripping your waist, pressing his body flush against yours.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, sir," you whimpered.

His smirk returned. "Good girl."

Before you could catch your breath, he was spinning you around, pressing your chest against the door. His hands slid up, pinning your wrists above your head. His lips ghosted over your ear, voice dropping to something dark and dangerous.

"Now," he murmured, grinding his cock against your ass, already thick and hard. "You’re gonna stay right here and take what I give you."

Your breath stuttered as he yanked your dress up over your hips, his hand palming your ass before delivering another sharp smack. The impact sent a shockwave straight to your core, making you moan.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, kneading your ass as he leaned in, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss to your neck. "I shoulda done this hours ago."

Your panties were gone in a second, shoved down your legs before he kicked them away. His belt clinked, jeans rustling as he shoved them down just enough, his cock pressing hot and heavy against your soaked folds.

"You want it?" he teased, rolling his hips, teasing your entrance but not pushing in. "You gonna be good for me now?"

"Please," you whimpered, pressing back against him, but he held you still.

"Try again."

"Please, sir," you gasped. "Need you so bad."

"That’s my girl."

Then he thrust.

The stretch was instant, his cock burying deep in one long, slow stroke. Your mouth fell open in a silent cry, your nails clawing against the door as he filled you, stretching you open until it was almost too much.

"Jesus," he groaned, gripping your waist with both hands. "So fuckin’ tight, baby."

He barely gave you a second before he pulled back, slamming into you again, setting a brutal, punishing rhythm. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, his low, filthy groans mixing with your moans.

"Look at you," he panted, dragging a hand up your back, gripping your hair to pull your head back. "Takin’ my cock like a fuckin’ angel."

Your body trembled, every nerve ending lighting up as he wrecked you. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles that had you spiraling toward the edge too fast.

"Come for me," Jensen commanded, his voice all rough and wrecked. "Come on, baby, let me feel it."

Your orgasm hit like a freight train.

Your whole body tightened, a sharp cry ripping from your throat as pleasure exploded through you, your walls clenching around him. Jensen groaned, thrusting harder, deeper, chasing his own release.

"Fuck—baby, I’m gonna—"

His grip on your hips tightened as he buried himself deep, spilling inside you with a low, filthy groan. His breath was ragged against your neck as his hips slowed, his body shuddering from the aftershocks.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. His hands smoothed over your waist, his lips brushing the back of your neck in something almost tender.

"You okay?" he murmured, pressing a lazy kiss to your shoulder.

You nodded, still catching your breath. "Yeah."

Jensen smirked, straightening up, pulling back just enough to admire the way you trembled under him.

"Good," he murmured, dragging his fingers over your thigh, collecting his release before pressing them against your lips. "’Cause I ain’t fuckin’ done with you yet."

Thanks for reading, you sinner! — Hope this filth satisfied your cravings. If you enjoyed it, don't be shy—leave a note, reblog, or scream in the tags. Your feedback fuels my depravity and keeps the spice flowing. Stay thirsty, be naughty, and see you in the next sinful tale.

#kiki's fics ᡣ𐭩 #jensen ackles #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles smut #dean winchester smut #supernatural #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #jensen fucking ackles #dean winchester oneshot #slut4axkles 🧸#slut4axkles's fics 🧸

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alicia-18 · 2 days ago

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Second Choice — Eminem x reader

Summary; Y/N was used to being a second choice to everyone, so it didn’t surprise her at all when Marshall broke off their situationship in order to give things a try with Kim again. But she was surprised by the emotions that came with it.

Warning; this fic will include mentions of domestic violence (not between Em and Y/N), drug and alcohol abuse, adult content, swearing, idiots in love, and moments where you hate both Eminem and yourself :)

Chapter Two; I think my dad’s gone crazy!

A bead of sweat fell down your temple as you finished perfecting the recording of the chorus to one of the final songs on your upcoming album. Dre had an eyebrow arched at you as you left the booth and entered the production room.

“What? Was it not a good take?” You huffed, taking a gulp from your beer glass. The flavour was awful when you first began drinking it, but it had grown on you over the years and worked as a good warm up to the harder liquor you often found yourself indulging in later in the night.

“Nah sounds great.” He shrugged, make you give him an odd look. Your body collapsed onto the little couch, and you pulled your notepad onto your lap to quickly go over the lyrics to ensure that wasn’t what Dre’s look had been for.

“Spit it out then, Dre.” You huffed, not finding anything particularly wrong with the song. The knowing look he was giving you was becoming suffocating.

“Second choice?” He questioned the title of the song, taking a gulp from his own drink and pulling out a blunt which he promptly sparked before continuing. “Thought ya didn’t care ‘bout Em and Kim?” He bluntly asked, sending a slight flush to the apples of your cheeks. You blamed that on the alcohol as you finished the bottle.

“I don’t, this song ain’t about them.” Dre didn’t look convinced by the declaration. You weren’t sure if it was your growing buzz or just the trust you had built with the producer over the last couple years, but you felt a need to let him in slightly. “I’ve always been second choice. My mom left when I was a baby for some dude in Canada, dad always chose drugs or women over me. And all of my boyfriends have cheated on me. Fuck, I’ve barely even been a second choice to people.” You laughed humourlessly at the revelation, and happily accepted his silent offer of the blunt.

“Well the song’s gonna be a hit, that’s for sure.” He smiled warmly, though didn’t seem to be finished. Now it was you staring at him with a raised brow. “You deserve more credit. You’ve gone through enough shit for’a lifetime, and stand on business for everyone around ya. I don’t think you see it but you don’t even put you first. If everyone else makes ya a second choice, why not make yourself a first choice?” His words hit like a punch to the gut, and left you frozen for a moment. You blinked back at him, his words sinking in and stabbing your soul. He was right, of course, and if anyone was in a place to tell you the hard truths you needed to hear, it was him. He had seen you right from the start, and you wouldn’t be in the position you was in currently without him.

That next week you had fully taken Dre’s words in and was doing something you hadn’t done in a while that you enjoyed — going to the club with your girls. You couldn’t remember the last girls night you had, so to say it was overdue wasn’t an exaggeration. You hadn’t even gone to the studio that day, deciding that the entire weekend for yourself. But as fate seemed to control your life, you had to pop there quickly on your way to the club as you had left your favourite purse there the day before and wanted to feel perfect that night.

You had already had a few shots before arriving, as you preferred arriving to the club with a moderate buzz already going. That, however, made walking in your black heels over the halls carpeted floor a lot harder. Your instability made you sigh with relief once you had reached the linoleum flooring of the break room. Your E/C eyes searched the room before landing on the duo sat on the small couch which also just happened to be where you left your purse.

Marshall’s eyes fell on you as soon as the door creaked open, and his stare flicking to the door made Hallie turn around also. She stared at you with wide blue eyes, a little gasp sounding. “Is that Y/N, dad?!” She excitedly spoke, looking between the two adults. You smiled apologetically to him, feeling as if you were crossing a line by meeting his daughter. “I love your music!” She confessed, her bright smile warming your heart.

You grinned back and made your way over, making sure to pull your short mini skirt down a little to appear slightly more modest infront of the child. “Well that’s funny cause I love your song too!” You giggled, stopping infront of the pair. Hailie looked up at you with pinched brows, so you crouched down to be eye level with her. You tried your best to copy her little voice as you sang “I think my dad’s gone crazy!” which sent her into a heap of laughter.

“What’re you doing here anyway?” Marshall finally spoke, biting the inside of his cheek to prevent smiling. His words reminded you of what you had came here for as you reached between his side and the arm of the couch. You heard his breath falter a little, but it didn’t last long as you pulled your purse into your clutches.

“Left this here yesterday, I’m going out with the girls and wanna look my best.” You shrugged, lifting the metal chained handle over your bare shoulder.

“You do look very pretty.” Hailie complimented with a smile, one which warmed you even more to the adorable little girl. You leant over and gave her a high five, making you both giggle. Marshall watched on with a baffling mix of emotions, a mix he didn’t appreciate.

“Thank you, so do you Hailie! It’s been so nice to meet you, your dad tells everyone just how great you are all the time.” You were shocked as she jumped from her seat and wrapped her arms around your waist. You eyes went wide and looked immediately to Marshall, definitely feeling like you were overstepping now.

“Hallie, I think Y/N has somewhere to be.” He rubbed the back of his neck, and continued chewing the inside of his mouth. You gave her a quick squeeze so she didn’t feel like you were being mean or rude then stepped back.

“It was so cool meeting you!” She beamed, sending a rush of warmth to your cheeks. You had never expected meeting Marshall’s kids, at all, but you immediately liked Hailie. She seemed so happy, and was obviously lovely to everyone.

“It was so nice meeting you too, Hailie. Have a good time with your dad.” You gave them both a little wave before your phone began ringing. You flicked it open and accepted it, and your best friend began shouting down the phone.

“Yeah yeah I’m coming, Jesus woman—“ You put your hand over the speaker and moved it from your face to address the father daughter duo infront of you. “I’d love to stay and chat but I’ve really gotta go. It really was so nice to meet you Hallie, I’ll see you Monday, Em.” You accepted a second high five from the 9 year old girl before lifting the phone back to your ear and scurrying from the room.

MASTERLIST

#eminem x reader #eminem #slim shady x reader #slim shady #marshall mathers x reader #marshall mathers #fan fiction

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yukidragon · 3 days ago

Note

You ever considered how a pirate AU might transpire on the sdj universe or in SiH? I'm reading this pirate bodice ripper and it's got my mind running.

Admittedly, I've don't think I've ever read a bodice ripper before, and I haven't had a chance to read many pirate stories in general, but I think that's a fun idea to play around with. I'll give a shot! My Sunny Day Jack headcanons will be through the lens of Sunshine in Hell and its canon by default, but hopefully I can give enough general ideas that can be used as inspiration for other peoples' take on this AU and how their MC might fit into it.

Content Warnings: Mentions of toxic relationships, abusive childhoods, violence, murder, yandere obsession, and general pirate shenanigans.

As any good Sunny Day Jack story, our titular male lead is going to be the main catalyst for this AU's story, so we're going to be starting with Joseph and what led to him becoming known as the infamous Captain Jack.

From Land

Much like in regular continuity, Joseph started off with a shitty home life. He was the son of a rich and successful merchant who was constantly off at sea making trades. His mother found him to be a nuisance more than anything, always underfoot and constantly demanding too much of her attention (which was pretty much any attention at all really). He was palmed off on hired teachers and the servants at their estate while she was often out socializing to raise her status.

Joseph was the lone heir to the family business and was expected to conduct himself at a much higher standard than his parents held for themselves. He grew up hearing about how his mother had a secret lover and his father slept around at every port. Their lack of care or even interest in him beyond what was superficial for appearances left him feeling painfully alone.

Joseph did try to connect with his parents and pushed himself to excel in the interests that always kept drawing them away from him. He learned the art of trade routes, how to properly manage and sail a ship, and what might come in high demand to be sold for a high price. He even tried to convince his father to let him come along on at least one expedition by showing how much he had learned, but he was denied every time.

Similarly, Joseph tried to make his mother proud. He learned how to keep smiling convincingly even when the daggers laced in other peoples' words cut him deep. He saw just how two-faced high society was and grew resentful of how fake its glitter was.

The teachers were strict and uncaring, downright abusive in their education, and the servants at their estate offered no sympathy for young Joseph. He struggled to connect with kids his own age, as the ones he would be allowed to see were all of much higher social standing than him and never failed to remind him of that fact.

Over time, Joseph started to resent his life and the role he expected to take in society. He tried so hard, but none of it ever seemed to matter. No one cared about him. They cared about the money that his father could earn from the sea trade. No matter what he tried, he could never truly find love from anyone.

As the resentment grew, Joseph eventually started rebelling by sneaking sneaking off whenever he could. The servants at the manor certainly didn't care to check on him unless he rang for them, and his mother was barely there, so it left him plenty of opportunities when the teachers weren't beating lessons into his body.

Joseph would dress down in simple clothes when he snuck out. He tried to connect with commoners his own age who weren't stuck up and constantly looking down on him. He started running with an unruly crowd, and let out his repressed anger with petty stealing and vandalism, which he also used to impress and carve out a place for himself in this group of misfits.

It was during one such outing that Joseph met someone who changed his life forever.

Yes, this is going where you think it's going.

Mary might not have met Joseph at a school playground when they were kids in this AU, but they still bonded over an injury. Though he was dressed down in unassuming, simple clothes of the common folk, an utter nobody that everyone except those rejected by society would even notice... a duke's daughter of all people went out of her way to help him when he had fallen and injured his ankle.

The life Mary led in this world was much like Joseph's, neglected and devoid of love. She was palmed off on tutors and servants much of the time to deal with when not paraded around like a show pony. Her older brother Ezekiel was the heir to the dukedom and was in all ways her parents' priority, as well as their pride and joy. She was just a shiny bauble on display, a tempting lure for whatever political marriage would enhance their family standing the most. She was less a person and more of a possession of the Phoenix family, polished to perfection to fetch only the highest price.

Mary's life was suffocating, like a bird trapped in a cage barely bigger than its body.

Joseph was aware of who Mary was of course. He had to memorize all the notable figures in society as part of his education. He never had the chance to meet her in person before, even at the social gatherings his mother deigned to bring him to, as she had yet to debut in society.

Though Joseph had never seen Mary's face before, he recognized the Phoenix family crest and pieced things together right away. He never expected her to leave the fancy carriage she was in just to kneel down in the dirt beside him. Her eyes were so shockingly gentle, so sincere. She smiled at him as she asked if he was alright and if he needed anything without a single hint of hidden intent.

Mary cared. She saw a young man bleeding on the cobbled streets and went out of her way to try and help him. She even wrapped his wound in what he would later learn was a handkerchief that she embroidered herself. It had the image of a bird flying across the sea in the sunshine, though now it had a bloodstain from being used to treat him that he could never fully wash away.

Unfortunately, it wasn't long before Mary was urged to back into the carriage while chastised for getting so close to someone "beneath" her and getting "dirty" from him. Joseph didn't even care that he had been insulted yet again. His focus was only on Mary who met his gaze with a sad look as her parting word to him was a whispered apology.

Their encounter was brief, but it left a major impact on Joseph. He had to see Mary again. He learned all he could about her and managed to talk his mother into allowing him to attend the ball where she would debut to society.

Although greeting her while looking his best, all polished and clean in his best clothes, Joseph was surprised to see her eyes widen in recognition upon seeing him. His heart skipped a beat when he realized that he left an impact on her too.

Mary was intrigued by Joseph. She had read stories of nobles who disguised themselves as commoners before, but she never met someone who had actually done it. She didn't dare mention it while surrounded by people though, and she was disappointed when her father drew her away from him to greet others.

It was when Mary managed to get some time alone to herself on a balcony to take a break from the stifling gathering that Joseph saw his chance. Though she was initially startled by his sudden presence, they managed to connect quickly. Their conversation was refreshingly light and eventually became playful. They were both sick of the cutthroat nature of society and all the games people played behind fake smiles.

Their smiles for each other were real, and Joseph thought that Mary had the cutest laugh. He loved making her laugh. He would be silly and act like a complete fool just to hear her laugh. She was genuine and looked at him not as the son of the upstart nouveau riche Cullman family, but as Joseph the person. Joseph the human being. Likewise he saw her as a girl who longed to express her true playful and sweet nature despite the stifled trappings of class. She was every bit as human as him, and it was an insult that she was treated as nothing more than a shiny lure to catch a big fish.

Joseph fell in love hard and fast. Maybe he first loved her when Mary touched him so gently when she bandaged his wound and looked to him with such genuine concern. Maybe it was when he first got her to laugh at a silly pun he made. Maybe it was when she surprised him by shattering her image of an innocent and naïve maiden by teasing him a little, getting so comfortable with him.

Whenever it was, Joseph just knew that Mary was the one. For the first time in his life, he truly felt seen, heard, and wanted. He had to be with her, no matter what it took.

Of course it wasn't as simple as that. The Cullman family were not exactly of high standing, having bought their barebones nobility through his father's money. The Phoenix duchy was a noble family that had the bluest of blood, tied to various royalty for centuries. There were painfully few opportunities for them to connect.

Joseph made bids to court Mary. Although she herself was very receptive to it, her family was a different matter. Shockingly, Joseph's parents were actually supportive of him for once. When they heard that their son had gained favor with the duke's daughter, they did all they could to help him in his bid to marry her.

It should have felt good to have his parents on his side, but it only made Joseph feel even more distant from them. They weren't helping him for the sake of love. They weren't helping him for the sake of his happiness. They didn't give a shit about his feelings for Mary. All they saw was the Phoenix family crest and the opportunity to forge a connection with such a noble family to raise their own status.

It was bittersweet in ways, but mostly bitter. As a child, Joseph would've done anything to get his parents' attention and support like this. Now though, he had learned all too well the greed and hidden intentions that they and others hid behind their smiles and honeyed words. He learned how to use his own smile and silvery words as a weapon from them after all.

Now, Joseph knew better. He didn't want their "love" anymore. Just like they were using him, he would use them for all they were worth. He would do anything for that one bright spot of sunshine in his life.

Joseph learned many things from his parents - how to sail across the sea, how to maneuver through society, how to forge connections, and how the flow of money could change everything.

His parents weren't the best people, and Joseph knew it. Though he didn't want to get his hands dirty, he participated in shady dealings that pushed the boundaries of his sense of morality. He helped put pressure on people where they were weak in order to profit, and where the Phoenix family was weak was money.

The Phoenix family was known for opulence and splendor. It was said that gold flowed as easily as water from their hands. No one would suspect that generations of spending and some poor investments were bringing them to the brink of ruin.

Joseph knew. Although he didn't feel good about participating in some pretty shady dealings, particularly ones that put strain on the Phoenix family's businesses, it would be worth it in the end if he and Mary could be together.

Mary wasn't oblivious to her family's financial woes, or that others were putting pressure on them. Her brother Ezekiel would use her as a means to vent when his business floundered. He raged especially when the upstart Cullman family managed to outbid them for a mine that had been seemingly worthless, but he secretly knew was filled with riches. Someone had betrayed him and leaked the secret, surely, but who?

Ezekiel never even considered that Mary was the person who leaked the information to Joseph.

Mary and Joseph exchanged letters after her debut, as part of his attempts to court her. She had many suitors she had to respond to, but he was the only one she opened up to. He was the only one who she eventually gave her heart to completely.

Mary might have been a sheltered bird in a cage, but she wasn't naïve. She knew what it would take to convince her parents to accept Joseph's bid to marry her in spite of their status. They would need their pride broken first.

It didn't feel good conspiring against her own family of course. Although Joseph had given up on his parents' love, Mary still held out hope for her parents and brother. At least for a little bit longer. For all the abuse they hurled her way, they would always show her love and shower her with presents afterwards to make amends. The love bombing they did made it hard for her to emotionally distance herself from them completely. She wanted their approval and love so badly...

But Mary also wanted to be with Joseph. She reread the letters he sent her countless times. They bonded in a way she never had with anyone else, and his words always had a way of making her feel flustered and giddy. His letters were always full of love and support that was positively addicting, and she wanted no one else but him.

There were so many potential marriage prospects for her. Mary had no illusions about the role expected for her. She knew that chances were that she would be married off to some older man who was interested in trading prestige and maybe land to have her in his bed. Her parents were in talks with royals of distant countries trying to sell her to the highest bidder.

Going behind her family's back went against everything Mary had been taught all of her life. She felt terrible about the anger and frustration she put them through, but she wanted to be happy too.

Things slowly started to work out. The Cullman family's wealth and status were ever rising, and the Phoenix family couldn't ignore them anymore. Talks of Mary and Joseph's potential marriage were taken seriously by both families, and the pair couldn't have been happier about the prospect.

The pair managed to have more chances to spend time together and get to know each other more than just with letters. Joseph was allowed to court Mary openly, even solidify an official engagement, and it was apparent to all who saw them together just how much in love they were. They even managed some stolen private moments together away from any chaperone to steal secret kisses, words of love, and passionate touches full of longing and desire.

Everything was going so well... until the incident.

Joseph Cullman had made quite the name for himself. He was handsome, cleaver, wealthy, and had a way of charming people. He learned how to give people what they wanted so that he could get what he wanted. He was a rising star soaring ever higher, gaining the admiration and respect of many.

Unfortunately he gained just as many, if not more, rivals who envied this rising star and plotted to snuff out his light.

Joseph was aware that he had enemies, but he had underestimated just how far one might go to steal everything he had worked so hard for. He trusted certain people that he shouldn't. LambsWork Company was a well known business, and one of his biggest investors. One of his trusted partners working at the business was plotting all along to ruin him.

A business woman had her sights on Joseph since he started making a name for himself. She desired him, such a handsome, clever, and charming man. There was a bit of back and forth between them, something she believed to be a game of cat and mouse. She flirted with him, and he seemed oblivious to her advances, evading her suggestive words with a feigned innocence that she saw right through.

However, when she made a move that could not be overlooked, Joseph couldn't play ignorant anymore. He made it clear that their relationship would only ever be professional, and there was only one sun in his sky.

It wasn't a cruel rejection by any means, just a firm one that showed a glimpse of his contempt for the way she treated him, but it served as a spark that lit a terrible fire.

The business partner could not accept the offense that she had taken from this young upstart's rejection. He dealt a blow to her pride that she would never forgive. She would only be satisfied seeing Joseph broken and on his knees before her in total submission. Instead of making him her husband, she would ruin him and turn him into her pet.

The business partner wasn't the only one wishing for Joseph's downfall. She joined hands with others who wanted to steal what was his, including a royal from a neighboring nation who wanted to take Mary as his wife.

Sabotage forced Joseph to travel and work many long nights. He was so exhausted putting out fires that he didn't see the knives aimed at his back until it was too late.

The incident that ended it all was awful. Scandals were exposed publicly in a public setting, ruining Joseph's reputation beyond repair. There was evidence of things he did mingled with far worse crimes that he didn't, all tangled up together in a way that painted him as a heinous criminal.

Mary did all she could to advocate for Joseph and his character, but she was powerless. All she could do was watch as her love was dragged off in chains with a wound to his forehead from the scuffle, helpless. No matter how hard she fought, her parents didn't care how she felt. All that mattered to them was how this incident damaged their family's reputation. The engagement was dissolved, and a new piggy bank, I mean fiancé was chosen to dig the Phoenix family out of their financial hole.

The machinations of the business partner had involved stealing some of the letters Mary and Joseph exchanged that exposed some of the things he had done. Mary's betrayal enraged the Phoenix family and she was expected to make up for conspiring against them.

There were other letters Joseph wrote too that were exposed to light that painted him as a conspirator, a criminal, and a cheating snake. Not all of them were real, but they were all presented as being penned by his own hand. Though Mary refused to believe the worst of this evidence, she couldn't shake off her own guilt for the part she played that led to this.

The business partner's plans had worked flawlessly, sending her status and wealth soaring in the process. While Joseph was left to suffer and rot in a cell for the rest of his life, she came to see him and offered him a way out.

Joseph realized what had happened during his imprisonment. Sure he had made mistakes, but was it worth all this damnation and hatred? The enemies that he didn't realize he had couldn't help but make themselves known, to mock him at his lowest point. His business partner's betrayal in particular and how far she went to possess him shocked him to his core. He knew that this woman desired him, but he had no idea just how far she'd go to have him.

The betrayal that hurt the worst though was that of his parents disowning him and banishing his name from the family register. The Cullman name was in tatters, and they wanted nothing to do with this stain on their family name ever again.

The business partner also wanted Joseph to feel betrayed by Mary. After all, their engagement was broken and Mary was set to marry some king in another country. The business partner made sure to tell him all about how little his love actually mattered in the end, how his "true love" could so easily switch to marry another just because he no longer had anything to offer.

Joseph was worthless now, and only his former business partner was willing to offer him even the smallest scraps of something close to freedom. If he refused, then he could rot away in that small, dark, and cold prison cell until the day he died.

The business partner underestimated just how much Joseph loved Mary. He saw through all the bullshit. He knew all about the situation that Mary was in. He knew her heart. She was the kindest, gentlest, most sincere person he had ever met. He knew Mary better than anyone.

Joseph didn't have faith in much, but he believed in Mary and their love more than anything else in the world.

But the business partner didn't know that his faith in Mary hadn't been shaken, and Joseph took advantage of that. He played the part of the broken man desperately seeking the only salvation he had left in order to escape his cell.

The world wasn't fair. It was cruel and only those willing to get their hands dirty would get anything. Joseph tried not to believe that even when he was doing some shady things in order to get ahead before, but the truth had been beaten into him now. He had to take what was his no matter who tried to stop him, and damn anyone who got in his way.

He would never allow his sympathy for other people to betray him again.

He abandoned his life as Joseph Cullman. The business partner had arranged for him to take different identity for when he was her kept pet, since his real name was a vile criminal now. The man now called Jack accepted his new identity, but he made it his own. He didn't want anything to do with the Cullman name anymore anyway.

To Sea

Jack played the part of the broken man desperate to keep his former business partner's approval to hide his actions. He still had connections he made from his time in the streets, a gang of outcasts who still hadn't found a place to go. He used money he stole from LambsWork to buy loyalty as he plotted to take back the only treasure worth anything in this cold, cruel world.

Though Mary tried to delay the marriage to her new fiancé, her efforts were in vain. The incident and her efforts to resist only earned more and more ire from her family and poisonous words filled with guilt and damnation. It killed the love she had for her parents and brother slowly, but she had no cards to play, no path of escape. They kept a stricter watch over her now, read her letters and made sure that she couldn't plot anything. Punishments for defying them went beyond harsh to downright cruel. Even an attempt to escape out her window in the middle of the night was swiftly thwarted.

The Phoenix family thoroughly clipped Mary's wings and crushed her spirit. The upcoming day of her wedding felt more like the day of her execution.

However, sorrow Mary held towards the impending marriage to a man who only saw her as a body to plunder and own was only matched by the news that Joseph had been murdered while in prison.

Mary was broken. On the day of her wedding, they had to use a thicker veil than they originally intended, as there was no hiding the sadness etched in her face. No makeup could withstand the tears that refused to stop falling, no matter how she was berated or punished for her insolence.

The wedding day was a grand affair in a foreign land. All sorts of people came to attend the ceremony. Though security was heightened, the sheer number of people there meant that there were many openings to exploit.

The time when the church was filled to the brim with countless guests and many more stood on the streets outside waiting for the ceremony to start was the perfect time to strike. People only realized something was wrong when whispers leaked that the bride had gone missing.

No one was expecting a newly formed band of pirates to infiltrate the wedding. They exploited the commotion to raid the royal vault while their brand new captain kidnapped the bride-to-be.

Mary wasn't expecting to ever see Joseph ever again, let alone on her wedding day to someone else. He appeared before her with a smile and a new look. She thought that she was dreaming even as he wiped away her tears so gently. When he asked her to come away with him and leave everything behind, she didn't hesitate for even an instant.

LambsWork was old money, and it had a lot of it. The business partner Joseph once worked with had made it something truly big and imposing.

Jack was meant to be the woman's pet, a beaten dog that would only do whatever she wanted. She didn't think that this dog still had teeth, nor that he would use them to tear out her throat when she lowered her guard.

Jack used the woman's arrogance against her. He played his part and got his revenge for all she had done to him. She was his first kill, and although he felt like a part of his humanity was lost in the act, it was a small loss compared to everything else that was taken from him.

The wealth of LambsWork was gutted and used for Jack's master plan. He weeded out who he could trust not to betray him, if only because they wouldn't dare for fear of their own destruction. He outfitted a grand warship known as the SunnyTime, a cheerful name that clashed sharply with how cutthroat its crew could be.

After kidnapping the bride from the royal wedding and looting the royal coffers, Jack and his crew evaded capture and sailed off on the SunnyTime to open waters.

From then on, they became a feared pirate crew. Jack was sometimes called Captain Sunny Jack or Sunny Day Jack in reference to the ship's name. He knew the trade routes by heart and was an expert at timing when to strike. His crew plundered and pillaged as they pleased, leaving survivors only to tell the tale.

Mary was seen just a victim in their grand plan to steal from the kingdom, just another treasure taken to serve as an insult and to make a name for themselves. She was thought to have died due to her delicate nature not long after she was kidnapped.

Of course, this was just as much of a lie as Joseph dying in prison.

When taking a new identity, a change in appearance is necessary. Magical potions and devices can change how one looks for the right price. Magic might be a rarity in this world, but not so rare that blue hair isn't impossible. Rather, it's a striking look that commands attention, just the same as tattoos and other markings that speak of his true self.

Captain Jack has a mixture of markings on his body that sort of blends the makeup of Sunny Day Jack and Joseph's tattoos from the canon timeline. In the pirate AU they're a bit different, but more symbolize him abandoning his old life and embracing his new identity and newfound freedom. They're not marks of shame, but him finally expressing himself.

Jack helped Mary express herself too with a new name and new appearance. He hated the idea of changing any part of his beloved sunshine, but she liked the idea of having white hair instead of brown. She also chose the name Alice for herself, discarding the name Mary Phoenix and all the gilded trappings of the cage that name locked her in.

Alice isn't as ruthless as Captain Jack, but she doesn't need to be. She serves as a medic on the ship and first mate, helping the captain plan for places to go and things to see. The world is open to her now and she wants to spread her wings. She even got some tattoos of her own to express herself in a way she was never allowed before.

Privately Alice sometimes had a giggle over the outrage her parents would have if they knew that she "defiled" the pale skin she was always taught to keep flawless in such a way.

While Joseph and Mary could never have their wedding, Jack and Alice did. Sure it was a small affair with only the crew in attendance, and Jack himself officiated as the captain, but it was a beautiful sunny day. Even if their marriage wasn't official in the eyes of the church or any other governing body, their bond was unbreakable.

Although Alice's reputation pales in comparison to the infamy Captain Jack has acclaimed, she's still well known for her deadly accuracy with a gun. Losing everything taught her to better guard her heart and fight to keep what's important to her.

After losing everything before, Alice vowed to never let it happen again. Even if doing harm goes against her very nature and hurts her, she won't ever let anyone take away Jack or her freedom again. Though she'll avoid combat if she can, she won't hesitate when it's necessary.

Jack, likewise, is just won't let anything take his sunshine away ever again. He learned just how cruel the world is. Even though he's bonded with his crew, particularly people like Dan, Rory, and Sue, he doesn't open up to them completely. They are important to him, but after everything he's been through, he knows that even people he thought he could call friend or family might be plotting to betray him.

Alice is the only one Jack opens up to completely. Those moments where he can be vulnerable to her are more precious to him than all the gold and jewels in the world. He promised her the world and all the riches in it when they were Mary and Joseph, and he still intends to keep that promise. Instead of trades and shady deals, he'll just plunder whatever he pleases. He'll dress Alice up in jewels that would put anything she ever wore as Mary to shame.

The Phoenix family were right to guard her like a precious treasure. Alice is the greatest treasure in the world, and Jack knows that better than anyone. Even when the world turned his back on him and didn't care whether he lived or died, she still reached out to him without reservation. Her kindness and gentle nature is truly special.

Jack feels some guilt for the life Alice lives now and the blood that they both shed, but it's a sad necessity. The world is cruel, and they can only truly trust each other. He'll spill more blood on his hands if it means lessening the stains she might get on hers. Death is a brutal necessity, and he won't hesitate to dish it out to keep his sunshine by his side.

Gaining riches and infamy are the goal of any pirate, but Jack has a greater goal. He intends to sail all across the globe, to see all the riches the world has to offer and steal it for himself. He's going to give Alice the world that she was denied all her life, and the world will never forget his name. They will never ignore or forget or bury him ever again.

Joseph Cullman might be gone, but the dreaded Captain Jack will live on forever.

I think I'll wrap this post up on that fun note. I hope you enjoyed my take on a pirate AU with the Sunny Day Jack crew. I know I did a lot more on the period romance aspect than I did the pirate part, but when asked how Jack might become a pirate, my mind started spinning with thoughts about how that happened in the first place. Let me know what you think about my ideas, and maybe I'll set sail on the high seas of this AU in the future again sometime. Thanks for reading!

@channydraws @earthgirlaesthetic @sai-of-the-7-stars @cheriihoney @illary-kore @okamiliqueur @kurokrisps

#Sunshine in Hell #Sunny Day Jack #Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack #SunnyDayJack #sdj #swwsdj #Headcanon Ramblings #Ask #Pirate AU #Joseph Cullman #Mary Phoenix #Jack #Alice King

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