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anonymityisfunwriter · 6 months ago

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The Uptown Girl and The Brooklyn Boy

Pairing: Greaser!Bucky Barnes x Uptown Girl!Reader Summary: Everyone knows that all any Uptown Girl needs is a Greaser from Brooklyn to make her forget all about her uptown world.

A.N. - Here's a long awaited request from one of my dearest readers @oneofstarkskids, it definitely strayed a little from that initial request but i hope you enjoy! "just reread this and it's still so amazing 😭 do you take requests? if so, would you be inclined to writing a grease themed bucky au one shot?"

Bucky Barnes Masterlist | AnonymityIsFun Masterlist

Picture this... he's from the wrong side of the tracks. He's everything every mother in your neighborhood warned you about. His hands perpetually stuffed in his pockets, a cigarette hanging from his lips, scuffed leather jacket snug around his broad shoulders.

You're none of those things, the complete opposite. Pearls strung around your neck. Perfectly done up, lips painted the perfect rouge. You're as educated as a woman could be in your day and age. You're an Uptown girl. Capital O - Old Money.

Your friends are enamored with Bucky Barnes and his friends - though you all know they'll never do anything about. Not as long as their parents had anything to say about it. And none of them are prepared to give up their high class life. It's just fun for them. A way to sow some wild oats before their parents introduce them to their future husbands.

Every chance they get, they pester you to take the long way home. To walk by that mechanic shop where Bucky and his friends hang out.

They never approach those Brooklyn boys. No, they never offer more than a coy smile and a languid, flirty twinkle of their manicured fingers. They just relish in the attention they get from walking past them.

You hate it. You hate their arrogance. You hate the smell of nicotine that hangs around him. You hate everything about them, down to those oddly charming Brooklyn accents.

"Hey," a blonde boy calls as you and your best friend walk past their mechanic shop one day. "Hey!"

"I told you this was a bad idea," you hiss at your friend, locking your arm with hers. "Now, look."

"I think they want to talk to us," she squeals under her breath.

He picks up his stride, doing a half jog until he reaches where your friend holds you hostage on the pavement. "We see you ladies passin' through every once in a while. Thought we could be friends or somethin'."

Your friend is immediately entranced with the blonde boy. Her face flushes as she beams at him, "We would love that!"

"We have enough friends," you simultaneously reply.

"She's kidding," your friend nervously chuckles, elbowing you in your ribs.

The blonde boy laughs, rubbing the back of his neck, "Well, I'm Steve. My friend there is Bucky."

As if on cue, Bucky saunters up beside Steve with an equally arrogant grin. He tips his head at each of you. "Hello, ladies."

Your friend nods at the two of them, an ear to ear grin taking up her entire face. "It's nice to meet you, Steve, Bucky."

The brunette's eyes flash over to you, speaking through that infuriating smirk, "Pleasure's ours."

"Would you ladies like to join us for a Coke?" Steve offers.

"We'd love to!" she immediately replies.

You shoot your friend an intense, incredulous glare. "I'm sorry, could you excuse us for a second?"

"Sure thing." Steve nods, ambling away from you and your friend to give you a moment of privacy.

Bucky doesn't move an inch. He stands before you with that same arrogant smirk, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Oh, I'm good right here."

"Fine," you scoff, speaking as bluntly as you can. Despite your polite upbringing, you you find don't care about offending him in the slightest. "We are not staying here!"

"Come on," she pleads. "What's the harm?"

"Where's the good in staying?" you shoot back.

"They're just so handsome," she fawns, looking over her shoulder to give a coy wave to the blonde boy. "And there's one for the both of us, it's fate!"

"It's not fate. They're nothing but trouble."

Bucky snorts, rolling his eyes, "You remember that I'm still right here, right?"

You shoot a glare at Bucky. "I know."

He playfully clutches his chest. "You're hurtin' my feelings, Doll."

You can feel the anger raising your blood's temperature. You don't like how quickly he's gotten underneath your skin. "I'm not your Doll."

"Princess?" he suggests with an infuriating wag of his eyebrows.

There's an embarrassingly large part of you that wants to stamp your foot at him and yell at him to stop teasing you. You keep it together just enough to contain that visceral reaction you're having to Bucky Barnes. Mostly. "I'm not your anything!"

He crosses his arms over his chest. "What did I ever do to you, Princess?"

Your eyes narrow in accusation. "I know your type."

"Charming? Irresistibly handsome?"

"Horrendously arrogant," you seethe at him. You turn back to your friend, only to find her missing, "Now, can we please go-"

"Your friend ran off the second you were focused on me."

Your eyes flicker to behind Bucky to your friend, who sure enough is enthralled in a conversation with Steve. "I was not focused on you!"

"Then why didn't you notice your friend runnin' away from you?"

"You're incorrigible."

The corner of Bucky's lips twitch up. "Didn't they teach you in that finishing school that it's not polite to insult people who are tryin' to be your friend?"

"And how would you know that I went to finishing school?"

He quirks an eyebrow at you like the answer is obvious. His eyes rake over you. From the way you hold yourself. To the dresses that oozed quiet luxury. You and Bucky were as different as night and day. "I know an uptown girl when I see one."

"And I know trouble when I see it," you shoot back. "And you Brooklyn boys are nothing but trouble."

It only gets worse from there. After that first interaction, your friend in fully infatuated with Steve Rogers. There is no tearing her away from him.

And that means, as your friend's dutiful alibi, you were dragged down to Brooklyn far more than you ever wanted.

And worst of all, it meant you spent most of your free time in the presence of Bucky Barnes.

"Please, just be nice," your friend begs as you trudge up to their garage. "I'd settle for polite even."

You scoff at her, rolling your eyes, "I'm always polite - just like I'm always nice."

"Not to Bucky, you're not."

"I don't know what you're talking about," you grumble, walking into the garage. Your friend takes off, immediately falling into the arms of Steve Rogers. Leaving you with Bucky Barnes to sit with him on the the couch that's become your most constant companion on days like today. As you walk past Bucky, you snipe, "James."

Bucky quirks a brow, smirking at you, "Oh, so now I'm James?"

"That's your name, isn't it?"

He walks away from the bike he spends most of his time working on, snatching a rag from his tool bench and wiping his hands of motor grease. Your eyes involuntarily wander to his hands, the care he puts into wiping each and every one of his fingers.

You stare for a second too long for Bucky not to notice you staring at his hands. "Remind me to thank Steve for tellin' ya that."

You roll your eyes, finally snapping out of it. "It's far better than the alternative."

He flicks the rag over, resting it on his shoulder. "So you like my name?"

You softly snort as you settle onto the couch. "I didn't say that. I said it was better than the alternative."

That smirk only gets even bigger. "What else do ya like about me?"

You roll your eyes. "Not a thing."

He settles into the couch beside you. Far too close for your liking. You can almost feel the rough denim of his jeans through your skirt. "I just love these conversations of ours."

"I don't."

His entire torso turns towards you, mischief and amusement gleaming in those blue eyes, "I mean, why would I want warmth and affection when I could have blind hatred?"

"It's not blind hatred." In spite of easily Bucky gets under your skin, you can't deny just how unfairly handsome he is. Even now, you find yourself lost in the depths of his ocean blue eyes. "It's perfectly reasonable contempt."

He gently runs a finger down your cheek. "I love when you talk smart to me."

You swat his hand away from your face. "Don't patronize me."

"I'm not!" Bucky insists. "I really love it! I know it's just your way of flirting with me!"

You scoff, making no attempt to hide your offense, "I am not flirting with you!"

He tilts his head at you, that arrogant smirk once again tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Come on, just admit it, Doll. You're a little sweet on me."

"I am not your Doll!" You fly up out of your seat with an indignant huff. "And I most certainly am not sweet on you!"

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you stare at me when I walk around here without a shirt. Or the way you were staring at my hands just now. What exactly were you picturin' my hands doin'?"

"I was not picturing anything." Your cheeks flame as you continue to bicker back and forth with him. Sure, he was possibly the most gorgeous man you'd ever laid eyes on. And yes, he could be incredibly charming. And sometimes, you found yourself staring at him in an not so innocent way. But you hated him. He infuriated you to no end. "And I was not staring!"

The grin is practically splitting his face. "And you've definitely thought about kissin' me."

"I would rather walk from here to Jersey than kiss you."

He slides up off the couch, taking a long step towards you. "You've got a hell of a temper, you know that?"

You refuse to back down. You press an accusing finger into his chest. You can't help but notice just how firm the muscles underneath that white t-shirt are. "I just think you're real good at pushing my buttons."

"Real good?" Bucky teases. "I think Brooklyn is startin' to rub off on you."

"You know what I think?" Your chest starts to heave with the anger and frustration you feel towards Bucky Barnes. "I think that you're the last person I would ever let rub off on me. I think that you're an arrogant smart ass that likes to spend his day running his mouth."

"And I think you're a repressed priss that couldn't take what she wanted 'less it's handed to her on a silver platter."

"You wouldn't know a damn thing about what I want."

"You wanna know what I think..." He leans closer, lowering himself to your eye level. "I think that you're pissed off because you know deep down those punk ass rich boys will never make ya happy, I think you're pissed off 'cause you're bored, and I think you're pissed off 'cause you want me - even if you'll never admit it."

You don't have a response to that. There's not a single word that comes to mind. You don't think you've ever been this mad before.

And because you can't think of a single word to assuage your heaving chest and boiling blood, you do something that a polite, good girl like you would never even dreaming of doing. Before you can think, you find your hand opening and winding back.

Before you can even make contact with his cheek, he catches your hand, gripping your wrist between his warm, calloused hand. He hauls you forward until you stumble into his chest.

For a moment, you can almost hear a pin drop. The tension is so thick the only air in the room Bucky's breath dancing across your lips. "I think I'm gonna kiss you."

A soft breath stutters from your lips. "And I think I'm gonna let you."

You weren't sure what it was, but after that first kiss, you couldn't get enough of your Brooklyn boy. Even after your friend and Steve had mostly fizzled out, you couldn't get enough of him.

You waited for the moment that they all talked about, the moment when you had your fill of the boy from the wrong side of tracks, when your wild oats were sufficiently sowed, but it never came.

Every time you laid eyes on him, the seal on your fate only solidified more and more. The more you saw him, the more you wanted him. And the more sure you were that you would never be able to let him go.

You weren't a stranger to the boredom and monotony of your upper echelon life, but this was different. This wasn't boredom, he wasn't a distraction. From the moment you met Bucky, you lost all interest in the upper echelon of it all.

Suddenly, you don't care what your friends think, what your parents would think. Suddenly, you were throughly repulsed by the thought of marrying one of those repressed, trust fund babies that littered your street.

And even your friends, the same ones that lived off their fleeting attention, didn't understand.

Your friend rolls her eyes again, a sigh of irritation leaving her lips as you ready to go meet Bucky, "Are you really going back up there?"

"You're the reason I met him in the first place!"

"I know. I know," she groans, clearly disappointed that you hadn't lost interest in Bucky like she had with Steve. "And I'm happy for you! I am! I just I want to make sure..."

Her tone finally gets your full attention. You put your bag down on the table, your eyebrow pulled together, "Make sure what?"

"You're just sowing wild oats, right?"

Your entire face puckers with distaste, "What?"

"That sounded bad," she backtracks, a guilty look painting her face. She takes a deep breath, resting a condescending hand on your shoulder. "You just - you know your future isn't with Bucky, right?"

You shake her hand off your shoulder. "What does that mean?"

"He's from a different world than we are. You know that."

"I can't believe what I'm hearing," you scoff. "I thought you, of all people, would understand."

"Come on, he's not exactly the sort of guy you can bring home to your parents."

You snort, turning away from her, "I have to go."

"You know I'm right!" she calls after you.

You didn't know that. In fact, the more time you spent with him, the more you saw why he was exactly the right person to bring home to your parents. He was everything you could ever bring yourself to hope for and more. Sure, he was different than you and your family, but he was a good man. He was perfect for you.

Surely, your parents could see that. Surely, they could see how good he was for you.

So that's exactly what you were going to do.

Bucky sighs against your lips, "I missed ya."

You don't know when that happened, but you've come to find a comfort in the scent of the faded leather of his jacket, in the feeling of his calloused fingertips trailing dangerously high on your upper thigh.

In the backseat of his beloved car, you curl closer into his side, resting your head on his chest, "Me too."

He kisses the top of your head, watching as you stare off into the distance, "What's goin' on in that pretty head of yours?"

You pull back slightly, lifting your head off his chest. With a furrowed brow, you ask him, "How serious are you about me?"

"Dead serious," he replies in an instant.

You lightly swat his chest. "Quit playing."

"'M not playin'," he swears. He does an 'x' over his heart, "Cross my heart."

His answer gives you all the reassurance you need. All there was to do was ask him. Still, there was a hesitancy. You worry that this will just make him realize that you two might just be insurmountably, irreconcilably different. You decide that the best way to ask is just ask. "Then what would you say about meeting my parents?"

"I'd love to," Bucky coolly answers.

You can't help the way your face lights up with hope. "Really?"

"Of course. Anything for my girl."

You really like the way that sounds. His girl. You could get used to being his girl.

The look on your face is worth it all to Bucky. He only hopes you don't see the anxiety in his expression.

He wasn't oblivious to how different your worlds were. He knew there was a good chance that this wouldn't last forever. It didn't really matter what he wanted or how much he was willing to fight for you, he knew the reality of it all.

He couldn't offer you half of what someone in your neighborhood could. Your worlds couldn't be more different.

And he's never been more aware of it than on the eve of meeting your parents.

Steve smirks at Bucky as he fiddles with his tie again. "You're really seein' this through, aren't you?"

Bucky smacks Steve upside his head. "Don't be a jerk."

"I'm just sayin'," Steve shrugs, settled into the couch of Bucky's family home. "I'm happy for ya, Buck. You really like this girl."

"I wouldn't be dressed like this for anyone else. Are you sure this is right?" Bucky tugs at his tie again. Maybe it was that the suit hadn't seen the light of day in a few years and was a little more snug than he remembered. Or maybe it was just that he'd only dressed like this for funerals and weddings, but everything about his getup today made him feel like a fraud. He was sure if your parents saw him like this, they'd see right through him. "I feel like I'm goin' to a school dance."

"Where does she live again?"

Bucky tries his best to hide his wince. He'd never been to your side of town, but he'd heard stories. Sure, most of them were made up, but there had to be some truth buried in the tall tales. "Upper West Side."

Steve pats his shoulder. "Stick with the tie, Buck."

He listens to Steve's advice and sticks with the tie. As he walks through your neighborhood, seeing houses bigger than entire apartment buildings on his block that line your street, he's pretty confident in trusting Steve up until the moment he sees you.

Your smile stutters as you see him waiting outside the gate of your home. It was just his luck that your house was one of the biggest on the block. Your eyes trail up and down Bucky's uncharacteristic attire. "What are you wearing?"

His heart sinks. He looks down, patting his blazer and tie. "Am I - Am I not this thing right? I knew it - I told Steve -"

"No, no," you quickly interject. "You look great! I've just never seen you... like this."

"What's wrong with this?" Bucky hedges.

Your soft smile up at him is the only thing soothing his knotted stomach. "Nothing, I - I just wanted them to meet you, to meet the Bucky that I know and - and I want them to know you. Not whoever this is."

"I - I didn't think they would like that Bucky very much," Bucky confesses.

It doesn't escape you that he's nervous, especially as he fiddles with this tie over and over again. You're well aware of how intimidating this all is. Even as someone who grew up in this social circle, in the thick of the upper echelon, you still found yourself scared of doing and saying the wrong thing.

You knew he was only trying to fit in as best as he could. Still, you missed the smell of his leather jacket, the waft of motor oil that often clung to his skin. "Well, I like you the way you are. Greaser and all."

"Thanks." It's comforting to him. Still, as his eyes rove over your house, he can't help but be glad he listened to both Steve and his mother. He holds out the bouquet of flowers in his hand. "My Ma told me to bring these for your Ma."

An endeared smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. He was really trying to win over your parents. He really was serious about this - about you. "My mother will love this."

"Your mother," Bucky corrects himself, doing his best to tame his Brooklyn twang.

"Just be yourself," you assure him, giving his hand a gentle squeeze as you make your way up the long driveway. "No one else, just you."

"Any other tips?"

"If you run out of things to talk about ask my father about his cars. He collects them."

It takes everything in Bucky not to gape like a fish out of water. "He collects... cars?"

You ignore his question, continuing to fill Bucky in on your parents, "And my mother, well, she's a terrible gossip. If you can get her talking about her friends, you've won her over."

"Okay. Anything else?"

"Just relax. They'll love you."

As he walks into your home, greeted by a man wearing a nicer suit than he is who offered to take his coat from him, Bucky's not quite sure he believes you.

Your heels click against the sleek marble flooring as you guide him through your home. He holds on tight to your hand, half afraid that you'll let go and he'll get lost in the labyrinth of pristine beige hallways.

Your father is the first to greet Bucky in your living room. He extends a hand out to Bucky. "You must be the boy we've heard so much about."

"It's nice to meet you both," Bucky returns the firm handshake before turning to your mother with the warmest smile he can muster through his anxiety. "You have a lovely home, ma'am. I brought these for you."

She takes the bouquet from Bucky's hand. "Oh, that's very kind of you..."

"Oh, it's Bucky," he supplies.

"Bucky?" your mother dubiously repeats. "How unique..."

"It's James, actually," Bucky corrects himself, already feeling himself getting flustered. "James Buchanan Barnes. 's where Bucky comes from."

Your mother nods, offering a tight smile, "How lovely."

As your mother hands off the flowers to one of the wait staff, he can't help but already feel like he's already made that dreaded bad first impression.

As though you can see the despair forming in the pit of his stomach and dampening the glimmer in his blue eyes, you give his hand a squeeze along with a smile.

"Dinner is ready," your mother announces. "Why don't we make our way to the dining room?"

"That sounds wonderful," you beam, leading Bucky into the next room. You stutter to a stop just before the dining table. You look at the table as you take your seat, your eyebrows furrowed at something that Bucky hasn't quite caught on to. "Mother? I thought we agreed on a more simple menu tonight."

As you speak you reach under the table, giving Bucky's hand an apologetic squeeze. Just from your inflection, Bucky can tell what awaits him will not be pleasant.

"Nonsense." She dismissively waves you off. "We have a guest."

"We talked about this," you admonish. "You promised."

"Bucky?" your mother calls. "Do you mind having a more formal dinner? I know it might be a tad unusual for you."

"Mother," you sharply warn.

"Um, no, ma'am," Bucky awkwardly lilts. "That sounds lovely."

A self satisfied smirk settles on your mother's face. "See? It's fine."

"Why are there so many forks?" Bucky whispers under his breath.

"Just work your way in," you reply as quietly as you can.

"Do you change forks every bite or somethin'?" It's half an attempt at a joke, half an honest question.

"In between courses."

"Courses?"

Before you can answer Bucky's question, your mother is already beginning her interrogation. "So, James, tell us about yourself."

"There's not much to tell," Bucky replies. "I was born and raised down in Brooklyn."

Your father snorts, "Really?"

You're not quite sure if Bucky catches the sarcastic lilt to your father's question or if he really does just try to rise above it. It's hard to tell with how he rolls with the punches. "Yes, sir."

"Any siblings?" your mother asks.

"I'm the oldest of four, ma'am."

"Any plans for your life?" your father finally pipes in.

"Dad," you hiss.

Your father shrugs, "It's an honest question."

Once again, it rolls off of Bucky's back. "Well, I'm workin' at a garage right now. Me and my friend, Steve, we're hopin' to buy it out. We've just about saved enough between the two of us to buy it from the ol' man when he's ready to retire."

"A man with a plan. I like that."

"Thank you, sir." You're sure that you hear Bucky's sigh of relief as he finds his footing. You can practically see his signature smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Your daughter tells me that you have an impressive collection yourself."

You weren't entirely sure how he pulled it off, but by the end of the night, Bucky is talking to your parents like they're old friends.

You're not even sure why you're that surprised, you hated him up until the moment you succumbed to his charm.

As the evening comes to a close, he stands in the doorway, shaking your father's hand again, offering your mother that charming grin once more, "Thank you for dinner. Everything was delicious."

"You're welcome back anytime, James."

"Thank you." You're almost shocked at your mother's open invitation. He presses a chaste kiss to your cheek. "I'll see ya later."

The three of you stand in the foyer of your house as Bucky walks down the steps and down the driveway with his hands shoved in his pockets. You look up to your father, face filled with hope. "So?"

"He's a nice boy."

You're not sure your grin can get any bigger. "I really like him."

"You'll grow out of it."

Your heart sinks the moment the words leave your father's mouth. "What?"

"It can't come soon enough," your mother groans. "You're far too good for him."

"You don't know him."

"We know his type, dear," your mother condescendingly sighs. "And good girls like you don't belong with boys like that, but I do think it was sweet of you to invite your little infatuation to dinner."

You feel like all the air has been knocked out of you. For a moment tonight, you really thought they were coming around. You truly thought it would all work out for the best. "Infatuation?"

"That's what this is, right?" your father asks, concern painting his expression when he sees the furiously determined look in your face. "You're just... rebelling?"

You look up at your father, shaking your head. "No, no, I'm not just rebelling."

You fought with them the whole night before you went to find him the very next day. They threatened you with everything they could think of. When that didn't work, they bribed you with everything they could think of. You didn't care for any of it.

The moment you see him, you know he knows. You're not sure if he realized it the moment he walked out of your door or if it took him a quick recollection of the night to realize it, but he knows all the same. It looks like he hasn't slept a wink. A deep frown replaces his usual grin. He looks entirely and totally distraught.

He notices you the moment you walk up to his garage just like you did all those times before.

This time, it's obvious is different. There aren't barbed words or verbal jabs. You don't bound into his arms. Even Steve offers you a sad twitch of his lips.

Bucky watches you for a long moment before you break the silence. He reaches into his pocket, lighting a cigarette in between his fingers. "Hi."

"They hated me, right?" He doesn't waste words. Your lips press together in a tight line. He takes a large drag from his cigarette. You can't remember the last time you saw him smoking. He shakes his head, hissing under his breath, "Damn it..."

"Bucky?"

He takes another large pull from his cigarette. Even from feet away, you can smell the nicotine in the air. "Just do it. I understand."

"What?"

"That's why you're here, right? Just get it over with."

Your eyebrows furrow. "I don't understand."

"I'm not an idiot, alright?" he spits. "I know I didn't pass their little test, so just call it already."

"Is that really what you thought last night was?"

"What else would you call last night? 'Cause I think I was the butt of the joke from beginnin' to end."

"You were not the butt of the joke, Bucky."

"Oh, please, I fell face first into their punchline."

You suck in a shaky breath, both your own hurt and the cloud of smoke around Bucky burning at your throat, "Is that what you think of me? That I was tryin' to set you up?"

"Yes! No- No! I just - I - Don't you see it?"

"See what?" you demand.

"That I'm not good enough for you!" he desperately exclaims, tossing his cigarette on the pavement. "And everyone else already knows it! Last night proved that!"

"My parents are assholes, Bucky. I came here to apologize for them, to tell you that I don't care what they think."

His voice quiets, the anger melts off his words until all that's left is a heartbreaking sincerity, "You should. You deserve so much more than what I can give you."

"They don't know you, but I do." You reach for his hand, lacing your fingers with his. "And I think you've got everything I want. I'm yours, Bucky. All yours."

"Do you mean that?"

"Every word."

"What did I do to deserve you? My perfect girl." He kisses the back of the hand he hods, using it to tug you closer to him. He quirks a brow at you when you pull away from him. "What?"

You wrinkle your nose at him. "I hate the smell of smoke."

"I'll quit," he immediately replies.

"You'll quit smoking? Just like that?"

"That surprise you?"

"It's just - Maybe you Brooklyn boys aren't as tough as you think you are," you tease.

He smirks. "Maybe we're not. Maybe I'm not - but I think it's because I'm in love with an Uptown girl."

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thatnewweeb · 6 months ago

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Baby Fever | My Hero Academia

Characters | Bakugo Katsuki, Todoroki Shoto, Midoriya Izuku, Todoroki Toya, Kirishima Eijiro

CW | mentions of pregnancy, suggestive content, reader agreeing to get pregnant, kinda jealousy in Bakugo's, kinda pressure in Midoriya's (from his mom) but also wanting it too

A/N | I love the idea of the boys having baby fever (even though not all of these are them having baby fever), I just think it's so cute

Bakugo Katsuki

Deku was having a kid?!

Katsuki was stunned as he held his phone to his ear, listening to his childhood friend and perpetual rival talking excitedly about the news his wife recently gave him. His grip tightens on the phone as he listens to the green haired man on the other side of the phone gushing about how excited he is.

As soon as Izuku hangs up, he calls out to you, his own wife. When you walk into the room, he walks over to you quickly, long strides leaving him stood very close to you, his arms caging you against the wall.

The look you give as you look up at him makes him smile softly, biting his lower lip a little. He tells you the news about Izuku's first child being on the way, which of course makes you excited, happy for your friends.

"We should have a baby too," he smirks slightly, whispering into your ear. When you give him a surprised, slightly confused look, he smirks, leaning down to kiss you. "C'mon, babe. I can't let that bastard get that far ahead of me. Gonna help me keep up?"

There's no way you could possibly say no when he speaks and looks at you like that. There's no time wasted in trying, him immediately taking you to your shared bed. He can't let that bastard Deku get too far ahead after all, can he?

Todoroki Shoto

Shoto was never really sure if he wanted to have a child or not. He didn't have the best childhood, and he was scared that he would end up being a bad parent.

He was still scared of that, he couldn't deny it, but when you're cuddling with him on the couch, watching television, he can't help but consider the idea whenever a child actor comes on the screen.

This weird feeling had been following him for months now. He found himself doing things he wouldn't usually, resting his hand on your stomach more when you're cuddling, imagining you clinging onto him, heavily pregnant and somehow looking more beautiful than ever.

He had no idea you were also having these thoughts. You hadn't brought it up because you knew he was a little hesitant about the idea. You figured you'd wait for him to bring up the topic first so he doesn't feel pressured, but now, every part of your being aching for a baby, you know you just can't wait any longer.

On one of his days off, you walk up to your fiancé and tell him to put a baby in you. The look on his face is both cute and hilarious. Despite how demanding your initial request was, the two of you sit and talk for a while, getting both of your feelings out there.

When you both agree that you both definitely want a baby, you decide you'll start trying as soon as the wedding is over.

Midoriya Izuku

It had been 4 months since you and Izuku had gotten married in a beautiful ceremony in front of your family and closest friends. Both your groom and your new mother-in-law cried a lot.

Speaking of Izuku's wonderful mother, you were visiting her one day, as you and your husband typically do at least once a week. You absolutely don't mind doing this, I mean it when I say Inko is wonderful, and that includes to you. She fully welcomed you into her little family.

"So, when am I getting a grandchild?"

The question comes out of nowhere, Izuku choking on the water he unfortunately happened to be drinking. "Mom!"

"What?" she asks with a smile. "You've been married for a little while now, surely that's the next step, right?"

Izuku laughs nervously, glancing at you briefly and squeezing your hand. "We don't know when that'll be happening yet."

The entirety of the rest of the time you spend at Inko's home that day, he can't take his mind off what his mom said. He hadn't really even thought about it since you got married, content with his life the way it is now. Now an idea has been planted in his head.

When you're back in the car, driving back to your own house, Izuku interrupts you while you're speaking (he didn't mean to, he was just so deep in thought that he didn't even realise you were talking). He asks if you want to have a baby, and it takes you almost no time to say you do.

Todoroki Toya

There's nothing you could think of that triggered your baby fever. You just wanted a baby, and you wanted one bad. You know your boyfriend will be a good dad, even if he doesn't seem to believe it.

He doesn't seem to believe that he has any kind of soft side. The big idiot obviously doesn't realise the way he acts with you, and you know that he'll be similar with your baby.

He wasn't even considering the idea before you brought it up to him. You weren't exactly subtle about it either, practically jumping on him and telling him to give you his baby. The demand shocks him, but there's something about hearing it come from your mouth that made him want it, made him feel like it would be okay for that to happen. He trusts you, and if that's what you think is best and what you want, he'll give you that.

There is no time wasted, Toya happily spending the rest of the night making sure that you'll get his baby as soon as possible.

Kirishima Eijiro

Eijiro has always liked kids, he thinks they're just adorable! How could he not like them? Being a pro hero means that there are so many children that look up to him, and it isn't an unusual occurrence for him to be swarmed by young fans while he's on patrol.

The baby fever really kicks in for him when a family of three come up to him while he's out on patrol, an excited baby babbling in his mother's arms as he reaches out towards the hero.

The baby's mother explains to him that he's her son's favourite hero. He always smiles and babbles and points whenever Red Riot is on television. It goes without saying that hearing that makes your boyfriend's soft heart melt.

As soon as they leave, he decides he'll have to bring this up with you as soon as he gets back to you. He's known for a while that he wants a baby, but after that reaction, he knows he has to bring it up to you.

Of course, he does bring it up to you very quickly when he gets home after patrol is over. It's pretty much the first thing he says to you when he walks through the door, picking you up and spinning you around when you agree to start trying. He wastes no time in starting to try for a baby with you.

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yuquinzel · 1 year ago

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❛ ‧˚ ONLY YOU — itoshi rin.

contents ⨾ [1.4k wc] fluff !! gn!reader, friends to (implied) lovers, jealous!rin yehehe, mutual pining? rin is horrendously down bad, [l/n = last name]

you come to two different revelations in one same night— the bane of your existence and the boy you love, they both echo the same name, proudly and sweetly: itoshi rin.

it has never been easy to read rin. his expressions being rarely... expressive, his words no more than incoherent grumbles most of the time. the subtlety of his gestures almost unnoticeable to most — it’s an art of observing and learning. but you get used to it over time, being his best friend for as long as you can remember — his presence bleeds in your life and whether you like it or not ( you like it for the most part ) — itoshi rin exists in everything you know.

however, tonight he's making it a point to be uncharacteristically expressive of every small detail, and so hell-bent on making it your problem too.

for the past fifteen minutes, since the guy from your class that's been trying his best to shoot his shot — rin can tell, by the way — came to talk to you, rin seems to be vaguely conscious of his surroundings.

you're not sure if there's a history of a personal grudge, but you immediately took notice of the way rin’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly, nose scrunching in disgust the second some guy (your classmate) came to talk to you. you don't know if rin noticed that you see him, you don't think he cares either.

the moment your classmate is hinting at the start of a conversation with you — rin talks over him. which, reasonably so, makes you turn to him and look him up and down in pure disbelief because itoshi rin isn't known for being a talker, much less a loud one at that. yet right now, it's almost like he's purposefully trying to be as loud as possible.

the guy starts with a friendly hello and something else which you don't really hear because rin’s voice is ringing in your ears — “pretty nice weather, don't you think?” he says. you cringe — it's past 8 pm and criminally hot in this city.

you choose to ignore him here, not in favour of talking to your classmate, but simply because you do not know what to say to that.

your classmate clears his throat and asks you about your private lessons, and as you're trying to reply, rin beats you to it. “classes ended, if you couldn't tell. we're on our way home.”

rin answers for you, and you shoot him a look. a curt nod with a sly smirk is his way of saying, “i know you don't like it when i speak for you, but i do not care.”

the guy laughs nervously, one you'd call awkward if it wasn't for the way he's slowly backing away from rin. you don't blame him, you know a thing or two about being glared at by rin and it's not really a pleasant thing to be subjected to. you feel bad for your classmate.

“so, y/n—” your classmate tries again and rin coughs loudly. you smack his arm, he ignores you. “that’s l/n to you,” he declares.

“rin! shut up for a minute!” you’re saving all the insults for later.

rin ignores you, again, with a huff. you turn your attention back to your classmate, muttering a low apology about how he's always like this and it's nothing personal — your classmate stands rigidly, awkwardly playing with the straps of his bag before speaking again, “right, l/n — i wanted to tell you something. uh, in private, if that's okay.”

“no, it's not.” rin answers in less than a second. you rub the bridge of your nose with your fingers, sighing defeatedly. rin decides it's his cue to continue, “they’re not going anywhere i can’t follow. whatever you say to them, I'm here to listen.”

it's less of a request and more of a warning — you picture him standing behind you in all his untouched glory, with his signature and perpetual scowl. it's no wonder your classmate stutters as he hesitantly mutters a low, “okay.”

“uh, i like you! — i have for a while, a long while! i wanted to properly ask you out —”

rin had known this was coming — unlike you, who's taken aback and most definitely not swayed by this confession — he clicks his tongue. rin is quick on his feet, stepping in front of you and even quicker with his mouth as he speaks, “we’re done here. fuck off you lukewarm fuckhead, they're not interested.”

the sudden vulgarity of his words leaves no one surprised — you're not given any chance to react as rin once again takes the initiative for you.

in seconds rin is grasping your wrist — firm and protective, and making you walk away with him. you stumble a little on your steps trying to keep up with him, the confession of your classmate completely erasing from your mind as you can only focus on the harsh knit between rin’s eyebrows, his unintelligible grumbles that you can't really make sense of. he spares you a glance across the corner of his eye, and you realise you have never seen him this worked up before, maybe save for the times he's on the pitch.

once your classmate is fairly far from his sights, rin lets you go — more like you yank your wrist free.

“rin, what the fuck? what's wrong with you?” you've come back to your senses, the absurdity of the situation playing in your mind again and again.

“you were gonna reject him anyway, i saved us some time.” he states dryly.

“how do you know that?” you find it hard to ignore the way his brows furrow even more at your words, he parts his lips to say something but stops midway when you talk again, “you’ve been acting strange, and i honestly don't know why but can you stop? we're not eight anymore, rin. stop butting in my life like that!”

rin looks at you with a sort of hurt flashing in his eyes — one you know you are the cause of but don't know really why. it's a bittersweet one— aching with an unrequited love. you know because it's the same gaze you've held for him for as long as you can remember. it feels sort of like a joke, that he's acting so uncharacteristic because of a confession from a random classmate — not when rin is nothing more than just your best friend. the label you've been limited to all your life.

rin takes a few moments to speak again, he takes a step closer and when you try to step back out of instinct — he holds your hand, much gently and tenderly than before.

”if you hate it that much, you can do it too.”

“what?”

“if you don't like me meddling in your life,” he repeats, this time much louder and bolder — just like the crimson blooming on his cheeks, “then you can butt in mine too, i won't stop you.”

“I— huh? ” you're dumbstruck.

rin sighs, defeated — closing his eyes to collect his thoughts and possibly help the maroon dusting his cheeks to not extend to his ears as well, “you’re the only one I look at. everyone can see that, even that fuckface isagi. everyone except you. i only see you. i want it to always be you,” rin pauses here, letting the words scorch his lips until they taste like a confession of his own— “so can you please only look at me too?”

this is where rin looks at you, and you feel seen. you feel like the only thing he can see, the only thing that's ever on his mind. suddenly the weight of his words settles in your chest, your heart picks up it's rhythm then. “why — why didn't you just say that...” you manage to blurt out, as clearly as you could. the shades of strawberries settling in your cheeks as well — gaze resting anywhere but him. rin sees that, and decides he doesn't like it. he gives a gentle tug to your hand — “eyes on me,” he says. it doesn't really help, but something tells you rin won't take no for an answer here.

“you,” you say, your finger poking the expanse of his chest — right where his heart lies, “it's always you. everything always leads me back to you. god, i really wish you said that all before.”

rin’s heart stalls and stutters like a car engine out of gasoline, renewing seconds later with a vigorous pump. heck, you literally made his heart stop and then come back to life with a newfound exhilaration.

“i’m saying it now,” he says, dragging the syllables; lowly and lovely, “i like you, only you.”

this is how you come to two different revelations in one same night. the boy you truly love, one you've loved for as long as you've known what it was. and the boy you'd call the bane of your existence, because it's ridiculous how he's always on your mind — determined to make his presence known one way or another. the boy who looks at you like he never wants to look away, the one who's asking you to look at him too, it echoes the same name, proudly and sweetly: itoshi rin.

you think it's starting to sound like something of yours to keep.

he makes me actually crazy

#❀˖° ─ hana writes.#rin itoshi x reader #rin itoshi x you #rin x reader fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock x reader fluff #blue lock x you #bllk x reader #bllk x you #bllk fluff #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #itoshi rin fluff #rin drabble #rin x you #bllk x reader fluff

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luviwon · 9 months ago

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MY FAVOURITE SECRET LOVER y.jw [양정원]

no. 1: if you think i'm pretty, lay your hands on me

genre: smut & wordcount: 1.7k

warnings: switch!secretary¡jungwon, switch!manager¡reader, cheating, some nicknames, oral sex (reader receiving), no romantical feelings involved and vague mentions of other idols;

a/n: like and repost if you'd enjoyed, love. i'm also a sucker for reviews, so if you have anything nice to say, would love to hear! i also recommend reading this oneshot while listening to the song with the same title! (if you think i'm pretty – artemas) it hits different.

COMING BACK FOR MORE?

"i'm so glad today is over" you said as you entered your office, throwing your bag on the couch and sinking in your leather chair. "do we have a tight schedule for tomorrow, mister yang?"

the boy followed you into the room, and checked the papers in his hands before giving you an answer. he looked up and down on a couple of sheets, finishing his task with a simple smile on his face. "fortunately, not at all! although, i need to remind you that the day after tomorrow is your wedding anniversary, madam. any upcoming events i need to fill in regarding it?"

"as if" you chuckled, rotating in your chair a few times. "don't worry too much about it, mister yang, you will have the day off"

jungwon looked at you curiously. he couldn't quite comprehend how he could get a day off after he's just been back from his holiday. "i'm sorry, madam, are you certain?"

"i'm positive"

you chuckled again as you relaxed your legs on the office desk, one leg on top of the other, biting your gel nails gently. a habit you couldn't really get rid of, although you were trying really hard to. you looked over at your obedient secretary, standing up next to your desk with a naive smile on his face. he looked so handsome, especially today. his cat eyes would barely blink, his gaze being perpetually all over you.

"do you think i'm pretty, mister yang?"

"pardon?" jungwon's eyes became bigger, his mouth opening slightly. he was ready for anything, but not for that. that's why he sat silent, staring at your face, probably waiting for you to repeat your question. he must have heard wrongly.

your legs didn't rest long before they were put on the floor again, standing up in the uncomfortable heels you've been wearing all day. you fixed your skirt as you walked towards jungwon. the boy was just analysing every step you made, gulping while not letting his smile fade.

getting as close as possible, you raised your left hand, moving it closer to his face. you stared into his eyes, you could have sworn he was not blinking. his eyes were deep and hypnotising, you could have fallen down on the floor. would he have caught you? his cologne smelt so good. something like summer floral, not too strong though. just if you got close enough, and you were as close as possible.

jungwon did not move either. he was just staring at you, his lips opening again to start and say something smart, but your pointing finger covered it quickly, as in making him shut up. you knew him way too good, and you won't let him ruin this.

"if you think i'm pretty, lay your hands me"

the boy was still quite processing what was going on, but he couldn't help it. nervously, jungwon placed his left hand on your waist, holding the papers in the spare one. his palm held your body strong and then softly, but his hand never left your pretty waist. he did indeed answer your question now.

"considering you only used one hand, am i just half pretty, mister yang?" you teased him, grabbing the papers he was holding, and throwing them on the desk next to you. "you have no more excuses"

jungwon didn't need any. he placed his right hand on your waist too, before it went down your hips and thighs. his warm yet masculine hand grabbed your thigh hard, lifting your leg up next to his body. you gulped, meaning to cross your legs but couldn't. he didn't let go of your thigh for a second. your waist was left alone by both of his hands now, his left one travelling all the way up to your shirt's collar, slipping his fingers slyly underneath it and pulling it more onto the side.

"how come mr. sim didn't leave any marks on your beautiful neck, madam?"

"jungwon-,"

"should i make up for his wrong doing?"

jungwon's naive smile turned into a smirk, and before you knew it, you could feel his cold but soft lips touching your exposed neck, leaving wet marks on your skin. it was a feeling you hadn't experienced in so long, you were craving to feel it over and over again. it was absolutely magical, his lips were like no one else's. you wanted more and more as he kept making out with your neck, biting your skin with his sharp teeth and sucking the skin until it started to have a violet tint to it.

you bit your lips, trying to keep your moans hidden behind your mouth. he shouldn't know how good he makes you feel, would he take advantage of that?

"you are not just pretty, madam, you are gorgeous" he whispered into your ear, moving back and looking into your eyes. he smiled innocently, like he didn't just leave countless hickeys on your neck. he glanced at them and his eyes widened. did he go to far?

"oh, goodness. i couldn't stop myself, i'm incredibly sorry. i'll go and order your favourite concelear with urgent delivery, immediately. mr. sim will not be happy to see this, i'm worried"

you couldn't help but softly laugh at his reaction. he was getting all nervous and scared for his life. you, honestly, couldn't care even less than this. nor about your useless husband, always away from home, always secretive, showing only a lack of affection and care for you. you couldn't remember the last time he made you feel like this, like jungwon did in a couple of seconds. him finding out would be your last concern.

"what about we put him aside and focus more on this, mister yang?"

he nodded, grabbing your hand and leading you towards the chair. he pushed you carefully into it while loosening his tie. he looked so damn hot in this second, with his messy hair and craving eyes. his innocence disappeared for one second, so did your skirt that was pulled down and thrown away by your secretary, revealing a pretty pair of white panties, just as he liked.

you felt pretty wet already, and your panties showed it. as jungwon noticed, the bulge in his pants grew bigger, biting his lower lip. but it wasn't about him, it was about making you feel good. you were the boss here, he was just being given instructions. jungwon got on his knees, looking up at you while his fingers reached your wet fabric, and how wet was that.

"i know you can't stop thinking about it, madam. i'll make you feel good, to prove how pretty you are to me"

without second thoughts, his fingers slipped underneath your panties, only to pull them to the side while rubbing his hand against your pussy. although only for a second, the feeling of his hand touching your sensitive spot just sent you a shiver. you couldn't help it. and you were close to turning into the nervous, scared one. not because you'd be worried about your husband finding out, but because you had no idea how you would survive without this every day.

without yang jungwon teasing your wet and needy pussy.

"may i?" jungwon asked, his mouth almost reaching your private, yet his gaze not breaking the eye contact. he had to make sure you wanted to and felt comfortable, too. and you did, thus your nodding was enough of a green signal for him to innocently lick your clit a few times before sucking on it, not as softly as expected.

his technique was harsh but causing so much pleasure at the same time. your clit did nothing but get all swollen and red from the nice sucking jungwon gave you, however he did not stop there. he was taught to finish his task, before going to play, so placing a sweet kiss on your clit, he burried his face into your pussy, loudly eating you out. holding your ass in his hands, he kept dragging you closer, not being able to get enough of your taste.

you threw your head back, moaning his name with your fingers lost in his messy hair. you crossed your legs around his neck, pushing him deeper and letting louder moans out. at this point, everyone in the department would have heard you already, but wasn't that the best part? for people to know who makes you cum so well?

jungwon did anything but got tired, as his mouth did not take a break from devouring his dessert.

"jungwo- your tongue feels so good"

hearing that, the boy only got an ego boost, which only made him take all of your pussy in his mouth, taking it in aggressively and hungrily. he needed you so much now that he had you. he wanted more and more and nothing would have been enough, besides living with his face between your legs.

no long passed until you could feel your pussy feeling so good, an absolute unexplainable feeling, making you hold onto his hair harder and arch your back on the office chair. jungwon moaned into your pussy, acknowledging you were getting close to making him so proud. instead of going faster or slower, harder and softer, he just kept his speed and method, knowing already that's what you needed.

that's all you needed.

it took you one second to relieve your orgasm inside his mouth, yet he did not stop but overstimulated you by continuing to eat you out. the echoes of your moans could be heard in the entire empty room. you couldn't face it anymore, it was too good that you might pass out. you pushed him gently, and he understood, standing up again with his innocent smile on his face one more time.

innocent my ass. you tried to fix your breathing, however it was hard to even think about fixing it. cumming feels good, but cumming with him? that's another kind of pleasure. you just stayed in the chair, not moving an inch from your comfortable position. you closed your eyes and smiled to yourself too. how did that actually happen?

"i'll make sure to fill in upcoming events for your wedding anniversary, madam. i'm just worried mr. sim might have to be excluded" said jungwon, picking up your skirt from the floor and handing it to you.

you instantly opened your eyes, witnessing how his naive smile turned into a sly smirk.

**not proof read

#enhypen hard #enhypen hard hours #enhypen hard thoughts #enhypen smut #jungwon smut #jungwon hard hours #jungwon #jungwon hard thoughts

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unabashegirl · 10 months ago

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Meeting her || Part II

Author's note: as promised here is the second part of this three part series. I am sorry it took longer to post, but I wanted por my Patreon subscriber have exclusive access to it. I hope you like it!

Golden boy

Meeting her || Part 1

word count: 3.4K

DISCLAIMER: The following chapter contains mentions of sex. Read at your own discration

Harry's kiss carried an intensity that threatened to sweep her off her feet. His hands firmly anchored on her hips to prevent any faltering. Initially resistant, Y/N found herself yielding to the wave of desire that surged between them, her conscience overruled and momentarily silenced.

Her hands, once resolute in maintaining distance, betrayed her surrender as they instinctively rose to explore the terrain beneath his shirt. The sculpted contours of his body, a testament to his disciplined routine at the club, hinted at strength and lean athleticism.

With an achingly deliberate pace, Harry's hands ventured beneath her coveralls, the contrast of her soft skin against his fingertips intensifying his desire. As he drew closer, the contours of their bodies collided, and she felt the undeniable evidence of his arousal against her abdomen. Normally reserved about such matters, the unveiling of his physique encouraged her, prompting her to guide them toward the couch.

Harry positioned himself between her legs, a commanding presence as he pinned her beneath him. His skilled hands deftly undid the front of her overalls, revealing the gentle curvature of her breasts. A brief moment of admiration passed as Harry absorbed the sight before him, his intense gaze leaving Y/N feeling both exposed and nervous.

Aware of her blush, Harry, without warning, leaned down and took her right breast into his mouth. Y/N watched, her fingers entwining with the strands of his hair, as the soft, whispered moans escaped her lips, filling the room with an intimate symphony of desire.

"Let me see those eyes," he murmured to her, his words accompanied by the rustle of his shirt sliding off his body. The urgency in Harry's actions betrayed a sense of haste, as if he needed to fast-track through the moment. It wasn't just for his own gratification; it was as if he feared awakening, as if this reality were too surreal and fragile to withstand the scrutiny of a waking dream. “There they are”.

Y/N helped him take off her overalls off her body and shyly watched him take off his joggers and boxers. She had lovers before, but never like Harry. They had been painters or artist just like her. She had never been with an athlete. His body seemed to be sculpted. He barely had fat on him. Y/N felt self-conscious as she sat on her couch only wearing a white thong and mid length socks.

Consumed by desire, he sought her by the waist, swiftly repositioning them until he lay on his back. On the opposite side of the couch, Y/N perched, an air of nervousness clinging to her. His intense gaze seemed to sear through her skin, leaving an indelible mark on the charged atmosphere between them.

“Don’t be shy, lovie” He took her hand and helped her to take off the rest of her clothes. Y/N straddled him, placing one of each of her legs on either side of him. She felt the heat that his skin emanated without even having to touch him.

"I-I've never been on top," Y/N confessed, her hips intentionally held aloft, avoiding the union with his. Submissive by nature, she had always yielded to the desires of others, a perpetual people pleaser. Her own wishes consistently took a back seat.

Harry found himself momentarily speechless. He had assumed artists, particularly of her caliber, were unafraid of embracing their sexuality. He had encountered many who were forthright in sharing their intimate experiences. Y/N, however, stood as an exception. Her admission of inexperience fueled his desire for her, creating a magnetic pull that seemed to intensify in the wake of her vulnerability.

They became one. She watched how he disappeared into her as their hips slammed against one another. Harry dig his fingers into her hips as he helped her find a rhythm that they both enjoyed.

“Teach me how to make you feel good.” Harry grunted. His words had enough power to send her shockwaves through her lower abdomen. She felt intoxicated and dazed as he continued to have his way with her.

“Kiss me” She demanded, so Harry reached up to the back of her neck as his hips followed her rhythm and lowered her head enough for their lips to touch and for her to moan into his mouth.

“Christ” He cried out from the sensation, pulling down her hips harder. Harry knew that he would leave bruises on her hips, but her moaning, the soft sounds she made or the way that her round breast bounced by his face, teasing and enticing him was all too much for him.

They were covered on each other’s sweat by the time that Harry finally released himself inside of her. His sight faded to black, and he could only see specks of white until his sight returned seconds later. Harry reaching his orgasm didn’t stop Y/N from continue working her thighs muscles.

Harry watched her as she continued to use him. Her chest and cheeks were flushed, and her hair was sticking to her forehead, but to Harry she looked like a Goddess. It didn’t take long for her to had arch her hips, her legs to go wobbly and for her to join Harry in bliss.

As the night deepened, Y/N stirred from her slumber, finding herself awake before Harry. The lateness of the hour was evident in the silence that enveloped them, a stark contrast to the usual symphony of city sounds. Her body rested atop his, a connection forged in the shared intimacy of the night.

With utmost care, Y/N gingerly lifted her body from his, each movement calculated to avoid disrupting his peaceful sleep. The room held the remnants of their shared moments — a delicate interplay of shadows and moonlight accentuating the contours of their entwined figures. Y/N allowed her gaze to linger on the tranquil sight of Harry, his features softened by the hushed glow of the room. In this quiet moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the echoes of their shared vulnerability in the intimate hours they had spent together.

Navigating her apartment with careful steps, Y/N made her way towards the bedroom in search of a robe or some clothing. The silence within her living space mirrored the weight of the guilt settling on her shoulders. As she locked herself in the bathroom, the walls seemed to close in around her, amplifying the echoes of her inner turmoil.

Inside the confined space, anxiety surged through her, transforming the room into a cavern of self-reflection. The magnitude of disbelief struck her; she couldn't fathom how they had ended up entangled in the depths of intimacy. Each breath felt heavy, carrying the weight of unexpected choices made in the heat of the moment. Guilt overshadowed the shared passion, leaving her to grapple with the consequences of a night that had taken an unexpected turn.

While Y/N and Emma weren't particularly close, Y/N couldn't shake the conviction that, regardless of their differences, Emma didn't deserve to be cheated on. Wrapping her body in a robe, Y/N gathered her thoughts before rejoining the living room. There, Harry sat on the couch, shirtless, occupied with tying his sneakers. The air held a palpable tension, a silent acknowledgment of choices made and the complexities that now enveloped their connection.

A surge of anxiety morphed into a fiery anger within her. The disbelief was overwhelming; he had been preparing to depart without uttering a single word to her. The weight of naivety and a tinge of foolishness settled in. He, it seemed, wasn't any different from the other men she had encountered—a bitter revelation that stung with a sense of betrayal. The emotions collided within her, creating a storm of frustration, disappointment, and a profound sense of disillusionment.

"So, this is all I am to you? Just a quick fuck, huh?" Her laughter dripped with sarcasm, cutting through the air to announce her presence in the room.

"You locked yourself in the bathroom. I thought you didn't want me here anymore," he responded, confusion clouding his features. The weight of guilt bore down on Harry, not only for betraying Emma but also for involving Y/N in the tangled web of their choices. The room crackled with tension.

"I'm not a bad person, Harry," she spoke with remorse, her voice choked with emotion. "But what we just did makes me one." Y/N fought back tears, the weight of guilt pressing down on her. "This can't happen again," she asserted, tears streaming down her face as she sought to externalize the overwhelming remorse within her. "It's not fair to any of us.”

"This isn't on you, Y/N," he explained, his words laced with a mix of regret and self-reflection. "I'm her boyfriend. I was the one who was supposed to be loyal to her." His admission hung in the air, emphasizing the role he played in the choices that led them to this point. “I understand if you never want to see me again.”

As Harry made his way toward the front door of her apartment, Y/N felt compelled to step closer, as if she could somehow halt the inevitable. However, her feet remained rooted, and her voice seemed to elude her. As he slightly opened the door, he turned to look at her.

"I just want you to know that I don't regret anything," he uttered, his words hanging in the air as he shut the door behind him. The finality of the action left Y/N standing alone in the room, grappling with the weight of those parting words and the aftermath of a night that had irreversibly altered the dynamics between them.

Night after night, Y/N found herself tossing and turning in the clutches of restlessness. The thought of reaching out to him tugged at the edges of her consciousness, yet every attempt to formulate the right words felt elusive. In those fleeting moments when she mustered the courage, a wave of self-doubt would wash over her, causing her to retreat once more. The cycle persisted for almost two weeks and her insomnia only made her crankier.

Finally, Y/N redirected her energy toward a new project. Engaging in sculpting for her latest project, she found herself immersed in the creative process, fueled by a restless determination. With minimal sleep, the clock striking three in the morning, she embarked on this new venture.

It was only a few hours later, after her coffee had cooled, and she went to the kitchen to warm it up, that she noticed she was sculpting a human. She began with the feet and had just started on the ankles.

As Y/N continued her sculpting journey, she found herself captivated by the evolving form taking shape beneath her skilled hands. The subtle contours of the feet transitioned seamlessly into the delicate curves of the ankles. The tactile connection with the clay became a meditative dance, each knead and mold bringing the human figure to life.

Lost in the creative process, she explored the distinctions of expression and emotion, her fingers working with an intuitive grace. The cold coffee on the table went unnoticed as she delved into the intricacies of her art.

A few days later, Y/N joined her father and brother for brunch. They had intentionally passed through Manchester to check up on her and insisted on a get-together.

"I love you, but you look terrible," her brother remarked as she took a seat in front of them. Y/N shrugged at her older brother and nonchalantly put her sunglasses back on, masking the evidence of turmoil beneath her eyes.

"Are you getting enough sleep?" Phillip, her father, inquired with concern for his youngest and only daughter. "You could always move back in with your mother and me if this becomes too much for you, honey." He reached for her hand, already settled on the table, and gently caressed the top.

Y/N and her brother, Archie, burst into laughter, leaving their father bewildered as he tried to grasp what was so amusing.

"Dad, she'd rather die than move in with you and mum," Archie revealed, a mischievous grin playing on his face. "I would too. You guys still love each other way too much. It's too much PDA for my taste."

"I thought you both would appreciate that we haven't ended up in divorce like most couples on earth," Phillip debated, a playful tone in his voice. "Ungrateful little fucks," he added, eliciting laughter from all three of them.

"How's Mum? Why didn't she come up with you?"

"You know how she is. She hates leaving the house and worries too much when we're away," Phillip explained. "How was the art show?"

"It went very smoothly. Most of the pieces were sold," she replied. "I think by the end of the year, I might be able to open the first permanent gallery."

"I still don't understand why you wouldn't let me fund it. So, you can dedicate yourself to just painting and not worry about down payments." Her family was very comfortable; Phillip held a high position in a large investment company. Y/N shook her head and put down her menu.

"You still don't get it, Dad. I need to do it on my own. I want to achieve it for my own selfish reasons."

"Fine, fine," he raised his hands, "just trying to help."

"I understand, and thank you," she smiled. "How about you, Archie? How's working for Dad? Is he everything you wished for?"

"He's the worst," Archie huffed just as the waitress approached them to take their orders. "But honestly, I've enjoyed it."

"I'm so happy that both of you are here. I really needed it," Y/N revealed. She had been going crazy in the apartment, and since she didn't have many friends, she hadn't gone out much.

"What are you working on currently?" Phillip asked her, genuinely curious about her new piece.

"A sculpture," she nervously shared.

"I would love to go see it," Phillip added.

"It's not going as I hoped for—" But before she could continue, making up excuses to keep her dad and brother out of her house, she was interrupted by none other than Emma. Surprisingly, it was the first time she was genuinely happy to see her.

"Y/N! I didn't know you came to places like this." Y/N nodded and awkwardly waved but remained quiet, anticipating Emma's usual backhanded compliments. "I haven't seen you in quite a long time. You've been distant."

"This is my dad, Phillip, and my brother, Archie. This is Emma," Y/N introduced them without forgetting her manners. "She's an old friend from college," she added.

Archie and Phillip greeted her with polite smiles.

"What are you doing later?" Emma asked. "I was just going to pick up some food before heading to the stadium to see Harry play. Are you guys fans of Manchester?" Y/N's body instantly went rigid at the mention of his name.

"Fuck yeah!" Archie enthusiastically jumped at the opportunity. "I mean—we would love to," he corrected himself after clearing his throat. Phillip turned to Y/N and shrugged with a smile. She wanted to scream and stop them from going. She didn't want to be dragged along. Y/N needed an excuse to miss the game.

"We don't have further plans. I think it could be fun," Emma smiled, feeling accomplished to have convinced them. She knew who Phillip was and how much he was worth. He was a big fish, and she loved the attention. Emma just had to win over Y/N's father. She wanted to be close to her family, just for the perks. "Honey?"

"Y-yeah," Y/N agreed, even though she felt like crying and sensed her heart was about to explode. What was she going to say to Harry? Would she even talk to him? Would Emma notice?

They were in box seats, which surprised Y/N. Emma had never invited her to sit in the box; they usually sat with the rest of the crowd. After all, not many people knew who Emma was or could easily recognize her.

The weather was great when the match started. As usual, Harry was in the initial team. Y/N noticed that he had allowed his hair to grow longer than usual, and he had a slight mustache. Despite the rougher appearance, she still considered him the most gorgeous man she had come across. The top of his hair was tied with a hair tie, causing a slight pang of jealousy, wondering if it was Emma's.

After half-time, the game took a turn for the worse, and the weather didn't help. It started pouring rain and became windy, but the game wasn't postponed. Something had set off the players from the other team, and yellow cards started getting pulled out.

Manchester was losing, and it felt like the team couldn't advance without getting pushed or kicked to the floor. It wasn't until the last twenty minutes of the match that a penalty shot was called after a player committed a foul on Harry.

"Oh god," Y/N whispered as she watched the players stand back and the referee place the football on the floor for Harry to kick.

"Since when do you like football?" Archie asked, noticing his sister's nervousness.

"I don't know," Y/N shrugged. "It's entertaining," she brushed him off, carefully watching Harry talk to the captain of the team while covering his mouth.

"If he misses, he is going to be hated for quite a few months," Archie said to Emma, who stood on the other side of him.

"That's his problem," Emma brushed off, showing a lack of concern. "He signed up to be a football player, not me." Y/N couldn't believe the bitterness of her statement. Harry was her boyfriend, and the least she could do was stand beside him.

The referee's whistle interrupted her thoughts, and seconds later, Harry kicked the ball with the arch of his left foot.

He missed.

The goalkeeper caught it.

Instantly, the crowd went mad, booing at Harry. Y/N felt helpless, wanting to scream for them to stop. She could see the disappointment on his face as he wiped the rain off his face while his team patted his back in solidarity.

"Oh well! They lost," Emma added. "I'm sorry I brought you to his worst game ever," she said to Phillip. Y/N rolled her eyes as she looked at Harry continue to play for the remaining match. "Would you like to meet him?"

"I have to get back to the studio," Y/N excused herself. "But if you two want to stay, that's fine."

"No, honey. We came to see you and spend time with you," Phillip said for both of them. "I appreciate your generosity, Emma. However, we want to spend time with Y/N. We leave tomorrow morning, and we still have a few things planned with her."

"That's fine," Emma coldly responded and looked back at the match. Y/N could tell that it had bothered her.

After the game, they ventured out for some shopping. Y/N confessed to her father that she didn't actually have to go to the studio but preferred spending time with him instead of hanging out with wet and sweaty men. Phillip laughed warmly, embracing her. He made sure to stock her fridge and handed her extra money for anything she might want or need.

Following the shopping spree, they enjoyed dinner at a fancy restaurant near their hotel. A driver later took Y/N back to her apartment after heartfelt goodbyes and hugs.

"I love you. Send me a picture of that sculpture. I'm sure it's great," were Phillip's parting words as he let go of her.

Returning alone to her apartment felt strange. Y/N had shared an incredible time with her family, making the solitude of her apartment even more palpable. Nevertheless, that didn't deter her from delving back into sculpting until two in the morning.

After a skincare routine, a bath, and a late-night snack at three in the morning, Y/N found herself tucked into bed. She closed her eyes, allowing the silence around her to usher her into a deep slumber. However, her peaceful state was abruptly disrupted by three knocks on her door. After much hesitation and grabbing the box cutter she used for opening mailed packages, she finally opened the door.

"I had to bribe your doorman to let me in with tickets," was the first thing out of his mouth.

Do you think Emma will find out and how?

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reverseexorcist · 6 months ago

Note

Hello, can we get Sera x Winner!Reader?

The reader has hipdips, because I'm so frickin' gay and I got hipdips.

Unsure what form this would be, you can choose how to write it^^

❥ 𝐌𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐨𝐯𝐞 ❥

Boy I am sure a sucker for the twevle foot tall maybe but probably not homicidal seraphim. She's just so gaslight gatekeep girlfail, y'know? (Also I just love old testament style angels in general <3)

➲ Sera+ !F!Winner!Reader

➲ Romantic ☒, Platonic ☐

➲ 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 Count; 1,776 Words

➲ Warnings/notes; Bird tendancies for both Sera and the reader (nesting, preening, cooing), very fluffy, I just think she's really pretty, me when I saw Sera fr, slight hint of angst (exterminations), but with lots of fluffy comfort

Clouds fogged the window, the glow of the setting sun and edging indigo of the approaching night sky ebbing behind cotton fluff as the first few array of sparkling stars blipped to life. The wind chimes outside the pearly kitchen window swung softly, almost inaudible in the faint breeze - Despite the twining height of the heaven-sent spire, the topmost dwellings of the holy realm were at peace from the harshest of the winds, mostly because they didn't actually exist in such a utopian place.

You exhaled, wiping your hands messily across the front of your apron before returning to the simmering pot on the stove. The smells that wafted out from it were incredible, mouth-watering even. It was a new recipe you'd gotten from your seraphim sister-in-law, Emily, after your last dinner party, claiming it to be one of Sera's favourites, which was all the allure you needed

Sunset. Sera's workday was almost over.

You found it kind've unfair that even amongst the afterlife, there were certain angels that still had to work. There were volunteer jobs sure, something to keep peoples' hands busy so they didn't die again from boredom. But, you hummed as you thought, someone had to keep this place running neatly, and the heavenborn seemed made for this time (which, y'know, they probably were.)

It didn't make you any less salty about it, though. Winner pairs had every single hour of their artificial days to spend time together if they so desired, wandering around the bright metropolitan cities and the mellow, enchanting countrysides, and yet you and Sera spent most of your days apart. And then, you remembered with a rather sour twinge, on her rare scheduled day off a trial of utmost importance had popped up.

Marble crumbled underneath your strengthening grip on the counter, cracking pitifully before tumbling in a fine dust on to the floor. 'Whoops' - With pursed lips you waved your hands, angelic light seeling the cracks and repairing the damage you'd inadvertantly caused within seconds.

Outside noises drew your attention, a chorus of wingbeats fluttered down to the door, a holy sound so synonymous with Sera and her six wings that had you perking up immediately. Firm, yet you could tell even from the kitchen window that something was wearing on her. From the way you heard the falter before her landing and the uneased rustling of angelic feathers, there was a sort've weight to every single one of her movements that made your heart worry. Your own wings flexed nervously as you made your way over to the doorway.

Sera was already inside, brushing her dress down and picking at a few loose feathers clinging to the swoop of her neck, preening. Her brow was furrowed, probably in thought if her perpetual thinking lines meant anything, but there was a certain dullness in her pearlescent eyes.

Now you were definitely worried.

Even as you neared, it was the eyes on her crownpiece the swivelled to face you first, then the ones that dotted her enormous wings. It was only then did she sigh and turn to you with the smallest of smiles.

Tired was one word to describe her expression.

The seraphim's arms were wrapped around her middle, wings tucked tightly to her back and anxiously puffed up, the very epitome of 'something's definitely not right'. Which was certainly not something anyone ever thought of when imagining the the high seraphim Sera. And that in of itself was the problem - To see such a confident, caring and durable figure of authority so down in the dumps. But, more importantly, it made your heart bleed to see your life-partner so gloomy and still trying her hardest to not let it show (and obviously failing, which really only made you more fidgety.)

"Sera?" You tried to peer in her eyes, to gauge her emotions. She sighed through her nose, spreading her wings half-heartedly and crouching down more to your height, cooing softly like a dove. Delving into her warmth, you nuzzled against the silken fabric of her dress, wings brushing against wings as her feathers gently encased you in a warm hug. The feel of her slender fingers threading across your face, trailing down your neck till they rested on the fluff of your wing joints, rolling the downy, warm feathers gently between her forefingers as the eyes decorating her body slowly blinked closed, the tension in her shoulders slowly melting away as you returned her light touches. Trailing across her shoulders, through the sleek feathers decorating her shoulders and collarbone - Shiny like crystal, yet softer than clouds.

Sera hugged you a little tighter, palms rubbing circles on your back tenderly, holding you wholly within her much bigger being. The gentle weight of her head rested atop yours, nosing around. Bergamot and chamomile swept over you, sweet and citrusy with a hint of spice that clung to Sera's feathers, now shifted to your delicate plumage.

However, you could still feel the rigid anxiety flexing through her wings. As tightly as they hugged you to the tall seraphim's chest, they were taut and strained, not free and sleek like they usually felt with every hug. And as much as you wanted to ask, something told you that she'd reveal everything with time - Despite the sore subject of truthfulness between the two of you at the beginning of your relationship, it was something she'd worked on diligently over the hundred or so years you'd been paired.

"Sera, hun, you're tense," You murmured into her breastbone, "go relax, have a shower. Dinner's almost ready."

She seemed so reluctant to let you free of her grasp, feathers fluffing as you slowly pulled away. Lithe, long fingers trailed from your back muscles down your sides, tracing the dip in your hips back and forth. WIth a playful sigh, you pressed one kiss to her throat, then another on her jawline with a third and final smooch on the tip of her nose. Content, a faint coo warbled from her throat, eyes slipped closed before you peeled yourself away. Much to her dismay.

"Supper's on the stove! We can cuddle more after dinner," You flicked your wingtips, amused at the almost puppyish look of longing on Sera's face. Confusion creased the white flecks framing her eyes, and she wrung her fingers together before ultimately raising herself up to her full height, feet floating ever so slightly off the floor as she shuffled into the adjacent dining room (as much as one could shuffle when their feet weren't touching the floor, that is.)

Emily was right - The tired, worried, anxious look traced on Sera's face disappeared as you placed her bowl down before her, even more so when you sidled up next to her. Tentatively, her smallest wing reached out as it usually did, feathers tapping softly against your arm and own wings before wrapping around your shoulders. Satisfied with at least being in contact, dinner was enjoyed in a peaceful silence.

Outside, the windchimes danced in the breeze.

Your nest felt startlingly empty without Sera curled around you.

It was a feeling you never thought you'd get uesd to, and you always felt so small picking your way through the carefully placed plush walls, ducking your head under the twining fabric that hung from above creating an almost dome-like ceiling to shield the light of the moon away from your eyes. Sparse inside, but incredibly soft and warm to the touch, you found yourself practically sinking into the mattress, two silken pillows tucked comfortably underneath you.

Sera herself had perched herself right on the edge, one wing (the biggest one) spread out in front of her, fingers working swiftly yet thoroughly, plucking loose feathers out and righting crooked ones. Your own fingers were doing something similar with another one of her smaller wings, tentatively carding through her well-kempt plume.

The look was back, and her thoughts seemed so far away. Eyes aglow in the dim light, the stripe down her nose crinkled ever so slightly as she silently mulled something over and over in her mind.

Your fingers faltered, and she peered over her shoulder and down to where you were curled up at her side, wings sprawled over the nest like another blanket.

She held your gaze, and finally spilled those words that had been gnawing at her mind.

"They…" She opened her mouth, then closed it as if considering her next words very carefully. "Everyone knows."

You tilted your head, but with the way what you now realised was guilt had spread over her face, you knew exactly what she was talking about.

The exterminations were a contentious topic between the two of you - It almost caused you two to split within the first decade of your relationship, and it wasn't a subject you liked to think about all too often.

There was a part of you that felt vindicated. Heaven deserved to know the truth with how extreme the whole operation was, especially seeing as the exorcists just lived in and around the general public without anyone knowing, preaching about love and peace just like everybody else.

But, you knew the guilt Sera had been carrying ever since she'd made the decision. You'd had your fair share of fights that lead to one of you sleeping elsewhere at night, or even escalating to the point you returned back to your apartment for a few days just to cool off. And you'd worked past all that. Difficult, yes, but Sera was your life partner and you loved her with all your heart. Maybe in the future you'd be able to convince her to start a redemption program, like many had suggested in the past, but for now you just opened your wings and shuffled as the seraphim joined you in your joint nest.

Now it was perfect, nestled up in to crook of her neck amonst her downy feathers, indigo and gold as the night sky sat firmly outside. Blankets strewn over your legs, giant wings wrapped around your entire body - This was your personal heaven.

Sera's hands fell to your hips, thumbs rubbing against the gentle dips as her head braced against yours, dove-ish coos escaping her with every breath puffed form her nose. She was already fast asleep curled around you, all the weight now lifted from her shoulders for the time being, wings perfectly preened and delicately soft, perfect for cuddling.

Your own wings were cleaned too, a pleasant buzz tingling from where Sera had traced her loving fingers.

Chamomile tea, citrus and chashmere, soft feathers tickled your nose, and yet you couldn't find it in yourself to care.

Rules + Info,

Masterlist,

#Sera x reader #hazbin hotel sera x reader #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x female reader #hazbin hotel x you #wlw #hazbin hotel sera

76 notes · View notes

t3a-tan · 5 months ago

Note

Giant James, tiny Tanner - 12&4 (angst??)

Word Count: 3,107

4. “I’m not scared of you, not really. You’re just… big.”

12. “I know I must seem big and scary to you, but I don’t mean any harm, promise.”

James and Tanner may have bitten off more than they can chew, but they're trying their best!

From this!

-----

“Are you ready?”

Tanner nodded stiffly, though he kept his eyes focused down towards his brown boots. It had been months since Oliver found him again, and in that time he had been gjven new clothes and all the berries and food and water a borrower could ask for. It was a peaceful and calm life, especially in comparison to how his life had been for the years leading up to being found.

At first he had been so scared and touch-starved, constantly clinging onto his cousin and refusing to leave the burrow. Oliver had taken care of him the whole time; reading stories and singing little songs to help calm him down, making tea when he was cold, treating his wounds, tucking him in— Oliver would sit beside his bed and stroke his hair every night so that Tanner could fall asleep.

Tanner didn't think he would ever feel that kind of love and care again after being separated from his sister.

As time passed, Tanner noticed Oliver mentioning a name often; James. It was a friend of his cousin— but whenever he would ask about him Oliver seemed to avoid the subject… until recently when he confessed that James was a human.

At first the thought frightened Tanner deeply, but as weeks passed and the revelation wasn't as much of a shock, Tanner realised sadly that because Oliver was busy looking after him all the time, he hadn't been able to visit his friend at all. Feeling guilty, he suggested going to James's house— not to meet him himself, but so Oliver could see him. Oliver had agreed, albeit hesitantly.

For three weeks now Tanner had been to the human's house, once each week, and although he had only managed to skittishly introduce himself on the first week, he had interacted with James very minimally for the following two. This week it was different though, because Oliver wasn't going to be there.

He had a job to do; helping a nearby family of borrowers move safely to another residence. He suggested that Tanner could stay with James in the meantime since Tanner was scared of being alone, and although the thought of being alone with a human again was terrifying he had simply smiled and nodded.

So here he was, preparing to properly interact with Oliver's human friend. Alone. Tanner bit his lip nervously before following his cousin out of the wall to where the human was waiting.

“Hey Oliver. Hey Tanner.” James lowered himself down more as he noticed Oliver gesturing for him to do so, before focusing on the kid again. “You're gonna be fine, munchkin. I don't bite.” He assured with a soft smile, seeing how fidgety the boy was. He couldn't exactly blame them— Oliver hadn't gone too in depth about things, but James didn't need exact explanations to know the kid was traumatised.

Tanner nodded slowly and offered a meagre wave, though he held onto Oliver's arm and stayed behind him anyway. He wished he wasn't here doing this, but he didn't have the heart to tell Oliver— and it might hurt James’s feelings, which he didn't want either. He was his cousin's friend after all, no matter how large and scary.

“I expect you to be on your best behaviour James.” Oliver spoke sternly, before turning to face Tanner, patting his head in a comforting manner. He offered a smile and cupped his scarred and burned cheek with his calloused hand. “Remember, James is safe. There's not anyone in the world I would trust more with you, okay?”

Tanner leaned into the touch, placing his own smaller and shakier hand over Oliver's, his fingertips tinted black as if perpetually frostbitten. Oliver always felt sad seeing the difference, but happy at the same time to feel his cousin was alive. He pulled him in gently for a hug before taking a breath, mentally preparing himself to leave and desperately hoping this would go well.

“Alright. I'll be back in a day or two.” And with that, Tanner had been left alone with one of the worst and most horrific predators a borrower could face.

He couldn't bring himself to look at the man no matter how hard he tried; his hands clenched and his shoulders bunched up with discomfort as he shifted his weight from foot to foot on the counter. Say something. I shouldn't be rude… He's Oliver's friend..! Even if he's big and scary and huge and terrifying and— At least it's not as bad as the bad place.

“I know I must seem big and scary to you, but I don’t mean any harm, promise.” James assured, smiling lopsidedly in sympathy for the boy's obviously nervous demeanour. He expected this kind of interaction thanks to the small interactions he had already had with the boy so far. He would never make eye contact and always seemed on the verge of tears if James would get too close. But I'll gain your trust today, I guarantee it!

Tanner bristled slightly in surprise at those words, glancing up very briefly before quickly looking down again. Do humans read minds? I don't think so...

“U-um…” He began, clasping his hands together behind his back to try to stop them from shaking. Tanner managed to force himself to look up at James and smiled sheepishly. “I’m not scared of you, not really. You’re just… big.” He lied.

During his time in the bad place, he had learned that he needed to hide his fear from humans— but he had never been very good at it… Tanner had always struggled with anxiety more than other borrowers, and the trauma had only made it worse. He could lie and pretend he was fine, but it didn't work for very long. I have to be okay, or I'll be a burden to Oliver…

“That's good to hear. It's okay if you're nervous though, munchkin. We'll take things slow…” James stood up slowly to save his knees from the aching and creaking they were doing on the floor. He saw Tanner move back and offered another smile holding his hands in front of him placatingly.

“Sorry, sorry. My knees are getting old, so it's hard for me to stay kneeling for too long.” He hummed, glancing back towards the living room before looking down at the borrower again, pointing a thumb behind him. “How about we move somewhere more comfortable? I'll give you a lift there, don't worry.”

Tanner hesitated at the suggestion. He could talk but being near giant hands? Touching them? That would be difficult. He remembered how Oliver said that if he told James no the human would listen, but even so he couldn't bring himself to actually do it. Ryker had made sure to condition that out of him.

Tanner was crying, trying to fight off the invading giant fingers from touching him as he panicked and sobbed. He could faintly hear Sammy screaming his name from the other room, but she was nowhere to be seen. He was alone.

“You're making this more difficult than needed.” The frustrated scientist who was trying to get him to lie flat let out a huff, before finally managing to pin him down to the cold metal table. Tanner felt sick, his head spinning and chest huffing, trying desperately to sit up or move but not even being able to budge.

“Shhh…calm down…” He shut his eyes tightly and trembled as he felt a finger start to stroke his head. Tanner kept trying to fight back, squirming fruitlessly— no matter how much he wanted some form of comfort, he knew whose hands were on him and that only made his skin crawl.

The scientist tutted at his continued resistance, before pressing down on Tanner's chest ever so slightly, enough that his eyes opened wide as he started struggling to breathe.

“I’ll give you some advice…” Ryker began. “It would take me no effort to take your life. It would take you all of your effort to accomplish nothing…” As he spoke he continued to pet the boy's head, looking down at him with a mix of pity and disgust. Tanner shuddered under that cold unblinking gaze, unable to do anything but hope he'll be able to breathe again soon. Ryker hummed.

“Just be good and stop wasting your energy.” The finger soon released from his chest, allowing Tanner to breathe again as he desperately sucked in the air he had just been deprived of. He trembled, staring up at the scientist with a watery gaze.

“Would you rather be a good pet and get comfort from your owner, or a bad pet who gets hurt instead? Either way you're a pet now, so I'd suggest you take the more bearable option.” Tanner hesitated before giving up, no longer fighting and just crying softly to himself, listening to the still present but distant calling from his sister who was no doubt making her hands bloody trying to get out of the cage to reach him. He couldn't help it… he wasn't like her. He was so scared.

He would be a good pet.

Tanner smiled again and nodded, clasping his hands tighter and feeling his muscles aching from the tensity. His head was screaming at him to just say no, but he couldn't help it— the idea of refusing or fighting back now only reminded him of the crushing sensation he would receive back in the bad place, taking his breath away. No. He would rather be good and feeling uncomfortable rather than feel like that again.

He watched the human perk up at his agreement, and couldn't help but look away again, casting his blackened gaze towards the ground. Oliver said it was safe and he was trying hard to believe that; James hadn't done anything bad any of the times he came over, but being alone it felt different… Tanner didn't have much of a voice— depending on Oliver to point out when he was uncomfortable, otherwise he couldn't say a word.

“Alright. Hop on then, munchkin.” James was relieved that the kid was willing to trust him. Oliver had acted like this would be a lot more difficult than it was turning out to be, but he was already making physical contact! He placed his hand down palm up on the counter, laying his fingers flat and trying not to twitch or get too close.

He couldn't help but be in awe watching the tiny kid slowly climb onto his palm. He had held Oliver so many times but this felt different… This was a sign of trust, and even if this ended up being the only physical contact Tanner allowed he would be happy with that.

Carefully, he lifted his hand up to chest level before walking into the living room and sitting down on the sofa. He kept his movements slow and small to avoid jostling the boy around too much. After sitting he hummed, debating whether to ask or not…

“Is it okay if I keep holding you..? Just whilst we sit. It might help you get more used to me anyway.” He asked with a sheepish smile.

“I don't want anymore crying from you when I pick you up. You'll get used to it…”

Tanner jolted at the random flashback, and he couldn't help but feel sad that James even asked. He really wanted to be put down… he could feel the tension in his body and the fear in his chest— his veins buzzing with adrenaline. Despite himself, he nodded again, bringing his knees to his chest and trying to keep his trembling contained.

James frowned, bringing the boy up closer to eye level.

“Um… you don't look okay with it…” He bit his lip, unsure if he should trust that Tanner was just nervous and the nod was genuine, or if he should consider that the nod was not genuine for some reason… He's always said when he's uncomfortable before! Well… Oliver says, and then he agrees. But why would he lie? “I'll…put you down.” Just in case.

Tanner seemed alarmed by his words, looking up at him with wide eyes. James was struck again by his odd appearance— he had seen it before and Oliver had described it, but now that he was holding the borrower so close he couldn't help but find it…disturbing. But the more surprising fact was how the black tint in his fingers and under his eyes seemed to be spreading.

“I-I'm sorry… I didn't m-mean to look scared, I promise— I'm really fine here..!” He mistook James's reaction as disappointment, and though part of him was sure James wouldn't hurt him like Ryker, most of him was scared of the possibility. He had no one around to defend him after all— and he had to be good until Oliver got back.

“Hey hey, woah. It's okay if you are scared, alright? Chill…” James let out a small sigh, unsure what to do. He wasn't used to dealing with traumatised tiny people— so he didn't know whether to listen to the boy or insist. He paused briefly to consider his actions more carefully before lowering his hand to the blanketed arm of the sofa. “Here. Step off if you want, or stay on if you want. I'll just stay still, okay?”

Tanner's head felt like it was in a whirlpool, spinning and spiralling more and more at the decision. Is it a test? No, this is Oliver's friend…he seems nice. But Ryker said I'm naive too! If it is a test I can't risk it… Tanner could feel tears quickly gathering in his eyes the more overwhelmed he felt by the situation, and as much as he tried to keep it in, James took notice.

“H-hey, Tanner.. like I said, it's your choice. Am I doing something wrong..?” James was also starting to get nervous as he realised that he genuinely didn't understand what was happening or why it was happening, assuming he must have done something bad. Tanner shook his head again, burying his head in his knees and letting out a small whimper.

“I-it's really hard…being near a human…” He admitted softly; so quiet that James had to lean in to actually hear him properly. His brows furrowed in concern at those words, going to comfort the boy and assure him again that he didn't have to do anything he didn't want to, only for Tanner to continue.

“Y-you…you seem nice… I-I know you're friends with Oliver…and he's super super nice— b-but I um… I just…” Tanner’s fingers curled in to grab at the bottom of his shoes, feeling the stitching in an attempt to keep himself grounded. It was hard to explain his feelings and emotions over the situation, and even harder to explain why he was like this. He trailed off for a moment, trying to think of the words to say.

“I'm… I always have to..b-be a good pet… and I— I know that Oliver said you aren't like the bad humans, but I can't help it. I-I promise I'm trying, but it's hard…” Tanner hiccuped, feeling the black liquid starting to drip from his eyes and stain his cheeks. “I'm sorry… I'm trying to be good…”

James was taken aback by the sudden confession, not really understanding what Tanner meant but seeing that he was crying…and he heard the mention of being a pet? What? What does he mean he has to be a good pet? Does he think that's what I see him as..?

“Woah, munchkin. That's…no. You are not a pet. And you don't have to be good… I want you to genuinely trust me, not to force yourself to do stuff when I ask. If you're uncomfortable, you can say that to me.” James was quick to correct him, now suddenly finding the tiny weight in his palm made him feel very uneasy. He doesn't want to be there, so why is he still forcing it?

“I-I can't say that…” Tanner responded, and the confusion that gave James made him feel a little frustrated— but not with the boy himself.

“You can. I'm not gonna—”

“No, you don't understand, I can't…!” He insisted, now shaking so much that James could feel it. He could see the boy's skin was getting darker by the second, some of the black spreading through his hair too. The sight was concerning and James didn't know what to do about it, so he just listened for the time being, trying to understand.

“I hear his voice…a-and I feel his fingers pushing on me— and…and his eyes looking at me…and then I can't say no…I-I can't do it… I-I know he's not here but he's still hurting me…” Tanner didn't know the exact terminology of a flashback, so he tried to describe how he felt as best as he could, as frightening as it felt to confess this to a human.

That made things click for James, recognizing what Tanner was describing as a flashback and slowly but surely connecting the dots.

“Oh. Oh… Okay.” The concern was obvious in his expression, and he rubbed the back of his neck as he tried to process everything he had just learned. “Let's take some deep breaths, alright? I'm not gonna let the man hurt you. Ready? In…..and out…”

Tanner began to calm down as he followed James's instructions, and soon his body was returning to normal; the black only remained under his eyes, at the tips of his fingers, and on his actual eyes. James managed to get the boy to settle on a blanket instead of staying on his hand, and he hummed a tune he heard Oliver humming to himself all the time, hoping the familiarity would make the boy feel safer.

Soon enough the boy had fallen asleep, the exhaustion from his earlier panic catching up to him the moment the tension left his body. James stayed where he was, watching for a few more moments, content to see him actually relaxing now. As soon as Oliver returned he would have to let him know what he heard because of how concerning it was— and Oliver was definitely more qualified than him to deal with it…

But until he got back James was determined to make Tanner feel as comfortable as possible. And until he was sure that the trust was genuine he wouldn't touch the kid without being asked by Tanner himself. James smiled again at the sight of the child cuddling onto the folds of the giant blanket.

“Get some rest, munchkin…”

#g/t community #ocs #g/t artist #ask box #g/t writer #g/t #oc asks #borrowers #ask #giant/tiny #g/t writing #g/t angst #giant/tiny writing

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creepswrites · 1 year ago

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Hola ví que está abierto y quería solicitar un Jason, Billy Lenz y Lester (si querés más) con una s/o que tiene mala cara siempre y un poco malumorada con los demás menos con ellos? Si no querés ignorame, besos y buenas noches (⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)⁠つ⁠⊂⁠(⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)

i don't speak spanish but google translate said "Hello, I saw that you are open and I wanted to request a Jason, Billy Lenz and Lester (if you want more) with an s/o that always has a bad face and is a bit grumpy with the others except with them? If you don't want to ignore me, kisses and good night (⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)⁠つ⁠⊂⁠(⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠)" so!! i hope this is what you asked for!

SLASHERS w/ a GN! S/O who has a grumpy face with others but not them

JASON VOORHEES

Sometimes other camp counselor potentials would show up, trying to give Camp Crystal Lake a fresh start, but Jason stopped them at every turn

You'd been a fresh, potential counselor once. But, of course, Jason put an end to that

You stayed with him though

You heard the story of the young boy who drowned and your heart just melted

So you and Jason became close. You were different to him, you weren't interested in sex and drinking

When Jason first met you, you'd been staring at one of your fellow counselors with an annoyed face

At first, he'd thought you were angry with them, but he learnt your face was just like that

Resting bitch face, you'd called it

But the way you just lit up when you saw him... it made him feel special

He loved when he'd spot you brooding and how you'd just smile at him, like your smile was just for him only

Jason feels honored that you only look happy around him

BILLY LENZ

You were part of the sorority where Billy had been staying

As he'd been stalking you and the rest of your sorority sisters, he'd learnt your behaviors and mannerisms

Particularly, he noticed how you never seemed to smile

You always looked perpetually annoyed by everyone and everything, which he found amusing

Even when you had to deal with his calls, your face never really changed

But when you finally met him?

You'd actually smiled, which made Billy's stomach hurt and he wanted to throw up from how sweet you were

You were always kind to him, careful to not overwhelm him when you held hands or kissed, and you always looked at him with a soft smile that made him melt

He'd bite you sometimes, trying to cope with how you made him feel, but you'd just laugh and kiss his head and talk to him

It made him feel special, that you weren't like that with anyone else other than him

LESTER SINCLAIR

Lester had first met you when you'd arrived to town, standing on the side of the road looking pissed beyond belief at the flat tire your car had

Your friend had been with you and you'd looked so annoyed he would've assumed your friend was the one who ruined the tire

But when you'd looked over at him, your face just softened into a shy smile

And Lester felt how red his face got, nervously rubbing the back of his neck as he stuttered through talking to you

Once you started dating, he'd come visit you in the nearby town where you lived, bringing you flowers and blushing like a maniac

You'd always smile at him though, laughing brightly whenever he'd stumble over complimenting you

Sometimes he'd catch you talking with others before you noticed him, a bitter look on your face until you turned and saw him, lighting up like the sun

He was obsessed with you, like your happiness was only for him

#🔪 creeps writes #slasher x reader #slasher fanfiction #slasher x s/o #house of wax #lester sinclair x reader #lester sinclair #black christmas 1974 #billy lenz #billy lenz x reader #friday the 13th #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees

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ghostlypainterslimeclod · 1 year ago

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Mike Schmidt x Male reader

1/2

Mike is such a little meow meow boy and as such I've declared him a bottom (my opinion means nothing) my first actual fic

Mild NSFW

It's late around 6 pm, your lazeing on your couch in nothing but your boxers and sweater, when you hear a knock on your door, reluctantly you get out of your comfortable spot in front of your TV to get it. Peaking through your peep hole you see your perpetually tired and pretty neighbor, Mike and suddenly you feel like maybe you should have made the extra stop to put on pants. But you're here now so you open the door, "Hello," you say nervously hiding half way behind your door hoping he doesn't notice the Minecraft boxers wrapped around your waist " what brings you over?" He looks anxious now that you've opened the door a little drop of sweat forming on his brow , "um I'm sorry to intrude and all but um..." He shifted nervously from foot to foot then said "Can you watch my little sister I have to go to work and my usual sitter is M.I.A." You think for a second then ask "What do I get out of it?" You knew he was struggling so you didn't expect money you just wanted to make the brown eyed boy squirm. "Anything." He half sighed "Anything?" You repeat questioningly "Anything" he said looking at you with his big brown eyes, how could anyone say no to him with eyes like that you thought before stating "ok I'm holding you to that."

You quickly go back inside and put on a pair of sweatpants and shut down your house before following him across the street to his place it was a carbon copy of your house just a few things were different. He leads you inside where he tells you what your responsibilities and such are like his sister's name is Abby and she spends most her time drawing and that she already ate dinner so u just gotta make sure the house doesn't burn down while he's gone, well that's what you got between checking him out and his anxious chatter. Then after that little speech he says bye to his sister to her protest as she doesn't want to be separated from her big brother, then once he separates from her he says a polite "bye" and heads out the door. Which leaves you alone with a kid you only met once before when you first moved in. Honestly you had no idea why he trusted you to watch his sister but you got to know the pretty neighbor boy better so that's a plus.

You slowly make your way to Abby's room knocking lightly, "hey can I come in?" You ask and the door is opened by the small girl. "So you're who's watching me now?" She asked unimpressed. You just nod, man kids are rude then what she said next gave you a bit of a shock, " I don't get why he talks about you so much, anyway do you like drawing," you chuckle lightly "of course, I love drawing." So you drew with the kid until she fell asleep at her desk. She is a cute kid you thought to yourself as you tucked her into bed. You then went and sat on his couch and fell asleep watching his TV.

You feel the couch dip as someone sits on it waking you, you look over to see mike then look at the clock its 10 am and you groggily say "sorry for falling asleep for so long." He looked over and apparently he didn't notice you woke up. "Sorry for waking you." He said in a whispered voice, God his voice is really nice. " So I've been thinking about what you can do to pay me." You say slyly. "Yeah," he said curiously "what?" You smirk " I'd except payment with a kiss." He instantly flushed and looked away a little bit of sweat beginning to form. You quickly say "it was just an idea you don't have to." You beginning to believe you read him wrong only for him to say "no it's ok," he turned to look at you "I was just caught off guard." He then grabbed your face giving you a small peck. Your hands going to rest on his hips as you kiss him, this one lasting longer. The kisses got more heated with each one before he pulled back, a little gasp coming from between his chapped lips. "Oh god." He groaned quietly, you gently pulled him onto your lap giving he plenty of time to pull away if he wished. His hands now rest on your shoulders, as you slowly kiss his neck his stubble scratching your face. He let out little whimpers and whines his hands going to pull on your hair. Then he jolted a little and began peeling himself away from your grasp. "hmmm..?" U look up at his questioningly "um I think um maybe we should stop, I'm really tired, and I gotta take care of Abby when she gets back." He looked nervous. it was cute his face was flushed, a tent in his worn blue jeans, and his brown eyes almost totally eclipsed by his pupils. Thought he did look like he was about to fall asleep on his feet "yeah you should get some rest." You stood up a tent in your pants as well. "Can u watch Abby again tonight?" he asked nervously "she seems to really like you." You smirk at him "you don't have to pretend you don't just want to see me again, and of course I'll come back if that's my payment." You give him one more kiss he whines into and then you go back to your place the house seems so empty compared to his. The warm lights seeming cold and the rooms look bare, but that's how it always is.

#michael afton #fnaf movie #michael x reader #michael schmidt #michael schmidt smut #michael schmidt x reader #little meow meow #mike schmidt x male reader

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jo-harrington · 4 months ago

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Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 11 - Jeff

Summary: Jeff has big plans for the future.

Word Count: 987

Rating: T

Warnings/Themes: Nervous!Jeff, Friendship, Banter

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

Jeff was surrounded by optimists.

That glass-half-full mentality, the perpetual prospect of positivity, the constant confidence in the future.

You could say that he attracted them.

And he needed that sometimes, because he was decidedly not one.

He was worried, a little nervous, a planner more than a doer. His cousin Richie was much more impulsive and got him out of his shell, sometimes even by force, but even that was a little bit of a misconception.

Jeff wasn't nervous or shy--well, maybe nervous--he was just...thinking of the right things to say. Making sure that he didn't fumble his words or insult people or embarrass himself. Otherwise the world might just crumble around him.

It took becoming friends with Eddie Munson to help him loosen up a bit. Get used to failure, go with the flow, stop being so worried about making the wrong move because his friends were constantly making the wrong moves.

But it also helped Eddie and the others be a little more...structured. They did homework during their lunch periods and study halls more, actually had plans for band practice instead of just winging it.

Ronnie always said, from the moment Jeff joined them, that they needed him--that Eddie needed him--to bring them down to earth sometimes. Their harebrained schemes and dreams that were larger than life. It only got worse after the whole demo tape fiasco, and worse still once Ronnie and Doug graduated.

But it had always been a good feeling.

Being needed.

Wanted.

Being the one to look after everyone in some way.

Thats why it felt really weird and wrong to be the guy to let them all down.

Jeff stressed over it for weeks.

It felt great stepping out of the guidance office, a moment of surety and security, plans for the future locked in place.

Then he remembered that he'd need to tell everyone.

It haunted him during lunches and Hellfire, while they helped Dustin set up things for the science fair, during practices and gigs. All the way up to Spring Break.

"It'll be fine," his mom--an optimist--told him one night when she found him in the kitchen with what was essentially a script with all the ways he could break the news to his friends. "They won't be upset."

"Sure," he scoffed.

"You act like I've never met your friends before," she soothed. "Those boys would move heaven and earth for you."

And he knew they would...this was just different.

Then the unexpected happened.

On the last day of class before Spring Break, Mr. Bergstrom passed out slips in homeroom that all the seniors needed to fill out.

"For the graduation programs," he explained. "If you've decided which colleges you're moving onto...trade schools...or other..."

"We definitely fall into the other category," Eddie snickered from beside him. "On our way to fame and fortune."

Jeff laughed nervously and then stared down at the slip, horrified.

When the bell rang, he bolted out of the classroom so fast, he barely heard Eddie calling after him.

Come lunch, Eddie stopped him right outside of the cafeteria.

"I wanna know what all of that was first period," Eddie demanded, no malice in his tone. More worried than anything.

"I, uh," Jeff shrugged. "I just wasn't feeling great this morning. I think the milk went bad. My stomach kind of hurt."

"Uh huh," Eddie scoffed. "Likely story. You're an expiration date snob; remember when I almost ate that expired Twinkie and you yanked it out of my mouth."

"Who knows how long it was in your van for!" Jeff argued.

"Twinkies don't expire!" Eddie shouted back, earning looks from their classmates passing by. "It doesn't matter. I think you're hiding something and I wanna know what it is."

His heart practically stopped in his chest.

"I know I've been kind of a hardass lately," Eddie continued softly. "At practice and...with Hellfire..."

And he felt sweat start to trickle down his forehead.

The longer Eddie talk, the more he felt the dread overtake him, until he blurted out,

"I signed up for summer classes at Tri-County Community College!"

Eddie stared at him like he'd grown a second head.

"And a few in the fall," he went on. "Gareth won't graduate til next year and we won't get big gigs until then. I want to take some classes and maybe...learn some business stuff to help us? Give us the best shot. Or maybe have something to fall back on if it really doesn't work out."

It was so silent, aside from his heaving breaths, that you could hear a pin drop.

"Thats..." Eddie struggled for words and Jeff closed his eyes and braced himself for the impact. "That's great!"

Jeff's eyes shot open again and saw the brightness in his friends eyes, the big shining smile.

"That's huge, I'm proud of you man," Eddie patted him on the shoulder again, gently this time. "Damn I don't even know what to say. You better keep Tuesdays and Fridays free."

"You're not mad?" Jeff questioned.

"What?"

"Or sad..."

"Why the hell would I be mad? Or sad?"

"Because Ronnie went off to college too," Jeff explained.

"Ronnie went to NYU on a scholarship and I was proud of her too!" Eddie shook his head. "Got the hell out of dodge. Damn, if anything I was jealous."

Jeff listened as Eddie rambled on about futures and plans how Jeff was the brains of the operation.

"I just figured," he interrupted Eddie. "You might think I was leaving the dream behind. Our dream."

"Jeffy, if anything you're looking out for it. And even if you were second guessing the band...I'd wanna support you."

Eddie pulled him into a quick hug with another pat on the back.

"You're my best friend man."

And the only thought running through his head as he clapped Eddie's back with the same affection?

Maybe being an optimist wasn't so bad after all.

#corrodedcoffinfest #eddie stranger things #jeff stranger things #stranger things fic #corroded coffin fest #if it doesn't make sense I'm edging a migraine right now #bon appetit

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chantsdemarins · 8 months ago

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😅Real Villain Training [Tom Hiddleston circa 2012 X Fem.Reader]

Chapter three of Breath of the Æsir is almost here. I’m SO sorry for the wait! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy a very brief Tom story...

Honestly, I pledged to myself, no more Tom stories just focus on Loki. But I think I just can't help it. Especially when slutty inspiration like this photo comes my way (@lokischambermaid and @lokisgoodgirl 😳)

I am humbled by this era of Tom. In 2024 he is a husband/father/seasoned iconic actor in perpetual good cheer, but in 2012, he was a bad boy. As always please reblog and comment if you feel inspired!

Summary: Tom is hanging out with some real jerks for a new role, and he runs into you, literally. Your depression has caused your life to turn a little black and white, could this handsome stranger possibly add some color back? (at least to your cheeks🥵).

Smut factor: I hope...HOT 🔥

(Authors note: I have no concrete proof he was in fact a bad boy so please don't take seriously my young Tom plot themes of drugs and sex, which once again appear here. I could be totally wrong about him. It's art! It's a fabrication! Also, this story does involve mental health!)

I also don't know who would want to be on a tag list for a Tom fic these days! These are a few people who might be interested?? @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokisgoodgirl @wheredafandomat @sailorholly @mrs-illyrian-baby @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2 @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbs @tbhiddlestan83 @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @kikster606 @mjsthrillernp @hiroyukinasukawa

Los Angeles, 2012

That afternoon, the rooftop pool at the Saint Avalon was a pink swirl of bathing beauties in early spring. Tom tried to focus on his deadpan conversation with his agent, but polka dots and silly cocktails danced around him. He pushed his Ray-Bans back into place, his sweat—or perhaps nervousness—causing them to slowly slide off his nose.

"Serious British actor succumbs to being typecast as a Norse sociopath. That's where this is headed, Tom, if we don’t do something, get you something else.” “Do you really want to be known only for Marvel?” he repeated his plea. The words just weren’t sinking in.

Tom laughed and inadvertently tried to change the subject. "Have you been to the La Brea Tar Pits yet, John? It’s wild—10,000 years' worth of dire wolf bones.”

His stare remained galvanized by the poolside girls. They just didn't look like that in London. Number one, the sunshine. Number two, the tans. Number three, well, his girlfriend—or ex-girlfriend, rather—made it hard to look too long at anyone else. So had he ever found himself at a rooftop pool party, he wouldn't have had the chance he was having now.

“Tom, are you paying attention? This is important. You're only here for a week, and we need to move on this role. I need to know if you're a yes.” The truth was, Tom was suddenly filthy rich with his own money for the first time in his life. He really loved being a Norse sociopath and already had big ideas for Loki’s eventual character arc into becoming an anti-hero someday. He had filled three journals on his bedside stand with his ideas for Loki.

His agent tried again, “Just hang out with Giorgio. It’s less than a month. Then the movie should be a very easy shoot. You get to embed yourself with some real hedge fund cats.” Tom’s attention snapped back. “Wait, I like that.” “Right? It’s like if Loki worked on Wall Street.” “Well…” Tom hesitated. He didn’t think Loki would actually ever bore himself that way. Those guys were boring to Tom and to Loki.

His poor agent was right, though. He did need another role. Things had gone so well; filming for the next Avengers movie was starting this summer. If he could find another gig, a time filler, a totally different genre, it really would be the best for his career. “Then a play next,” the agent mused, taking a sip of his own cocktail. “Shakespeare, or something 70s.” “70s? As in the 1570s? Or the 1970s?” “Tom.” “How should I know?” Tom laughed to himself, eyes still canvassing the poolside display around him. His agent leaned across his lawn chair and placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “So, you’ll do it?”

Two Weeks Later

Deep down, he knew he didn’t have the dissociation required for the job. He was too corporeal, too embodied. Years of being a long-distance runner and a trained athlete had fastened his mind, heart, and soul firmly into his muscles. He clearly wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings in his highly emotive, sensitive body. That was the first thing he noticed about the guys he was forced to hang out with for this role. They were covered up with their suits and sexist jokes. It was like they had Hadrian’s Wall around them. Which was, in fact, what exactly led to his sudden departure from the bar at Rue 23.

He had been embedded with short and loud Glen, buzz-cut Ellis, and the tall and lanky, just like him, Brad Nelson. There were a few others, but they were too milquetoast to be memorable. Role be damned. He left so fast the thick glass door almost hit a nice young couple as he bolted into the cold Los Angeles spring night.

He wasn’t dressed right; in his haste to leave London, he didn’t remember that California got into the 40s after the sun went down. He didn’t even pack a suit coat. Thank God he remembered to grab his leather pack from under the bar. It contained exactly five cigarettes, a finicky Zippo, his aftershave, a white t-shirt, and a travel toothbrush. There might also be a rolled-up Popular Mechanics magazine from the Burbank airport, something he never would be caught dead reading at Heathrow.

He also hadn’t done so much coke since he was in college. Why was LA always so incredibly cliché? He couldn’t blame Luke. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for this role. He said yes when he was distracted. He was in over his head. They had hired these real blokes to make sure Tom looked authentic when they started filming next month, and given his intense drive for perfection, he had agreed that it was “brilliant” of the casting director to force the eight of them to spend these weeks in Los Angeles and one week in Manhattan, in a true immersive centrifuge of shallow materiality.

The night spun around him, a neon ball of yarn, teasing open his pupils until his eyes were black and not at all blue. As he walked, he ran his large hands down the surface of his body, the material of his shirt feeling like a fancy pillowcase from a boutique hotel.

One finger lingered over his jawline, tracing it as he brought his hands back up to his face. Engrossed in the comfort of his form a moment too long, he was distracted once again. This part of LA seemed to always be full of clusters of locals and tourists, laughing and talking. He was unfortunately moving against the flow of the crowd, a wayward salmon when he almost ran straight into you.

“Watch where you're going!” you yelled, dropping your purse onto the dirty LA sidewalk. It opened enough for your things to tumble out. Tom immediately stopped and bent down to help you, but you batted his hands away. “What the hell? I can pick up my own damn Chapstick,” you scolded. “Ma’am, I am so sorry, I am obviously not from here, and I am a little overwhelmed,” he rattled off. “Why is that obvious?” “My accent, of course.” “I didn’t honestly notice,” you spoke as you inspected the tall man’s face with squinting eyes.

You, of course, did immediately notice the timbre of his voice, his height, and the buttons on his tight shirt which looked like they were in the process of unbuttoning themselves. “Would you believe I’ve been doing coke all night with a bunch of Wall Street assholes at the Rue 23, and I had to get the fuck out of there,” he continued, not sure if you were listening, but you were definitely looking at him, so he continued.

“So now I am wandering the streets of Beverly Hills, and I haven’t the foggiest how the rest of my night will go.” You shuffled your feet for a moment before speaking. You had been heading home after a long day at work. You felt genuinely unprepared for navigating a handsome foreigner in the right direction. Yet there was a certain appeal to a man suddenly without his ship or his crew, so to speak. So you didn’t immediately walk away.

He had been shuffled from the airport to the bar in a hired car, he tried to explain, and his sense of direction bordered on problematic. Further, his flip phone was really only good for texting, and that even took way too long most days. He really did seem high, overwhelmed, and a little lost. He also seemed the type unable to handle any silence in a conversation.

“Do you live far?” he said after suffering through 30 seconds of no discourse. “It’s LA, everything is far.” “Fair enough,” Tom muttered sheepishly, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, which were still somehow unbuttoning themselves. He thought he had bought the right size shirt. Maybe not.

You realized that if you were to ask this too-high, too-hot British man back to your apartment, you would inevitably cave and end up sleeping with him just because he caught you in this particular moment of your life. It was an in-between time. You weren't quite your old self and your new self that you'd been working so hard on, hadn't emerged yet.

“Want to grab something to eat?” You finally offered a neutral segue. That seemed to be just what the man needed to hear. His demeanor calmed. “Oh sure, yes, I could go for a big American cheeseburger, honestly.” “Okay then, let’s go to Patty’s on Vine, we can walk,” you said as you pulled at his shirt to turn him toward the right direction. He bristled at the feeling of your touch.

His whole body was even more sensitive than usual. You looked like the queen of the ancient British Iceni to him. In truth, he didn’t much care for the California look. He loved that you appeared out of nowhere and you looked like Boudica, not like Gwyneth Paltrow. Even though he was sure he heard she was nice. RDJ seemed to really love her.

The diner where you were headed was the second-tier after-hours hang, so it wasn’t populated with the usual crowd, not yet at least. You had some time before you would be inundated, and perhaps before someone would recognize him, which you still did not. You could ask him, of course. Although, sometimes in Los Angeles, the worst part is knowing who someone is.

Although Tom being Tom was unable to resist personal questions. “Tell me a little bit about yourself, just a little,” he had to ask as the night air propelled him quickly down the sidewalk. You considered telling him about your job, but it was just how you paid the bills. Your passions were your passions and not for a stranger. So you decided to be a little goth. It couldn't hurt.

“I have something like anhedonia, I suppose,” you finally said. Tom seemed to know what you meant right away. “The inability to feel?” He spoke. “More classically refined, which results in numbness, making capturing interior somatic sensations nearly impossible,” you clarified. “Sounds like you are depressed,” Tom flattened out your creative retelling of your current state. “Maybe,” although you weren't sure of his simple label. "You think it will pass?" Tom continued, ever the optimist.

You considered one way to try and test if this state you'd been in could possibly change, would be to see if he could provoke feelings of passion or at least some kind of low-grade horniness. You’d been feeling functionally blank for a while now.

He was stunning, after all.

He seemed game for anything, his amphetamine grin taking up the majority of his handsome face. He looked so lovely under the hanging light in your dingy booth. You ate the two-egg special you ordered and watched him devour his American cheeseburger with genuine joy.

“So, you're here to practice for a new part?” You sincerely tried to keep the conversation flowing despite the growing desire to test your theory. “Yes, they want me to branch out. In my career, there’s the fear I am already 'type-casted,' I guess you could say.” “Type-casted? So early on?”

He looked young to you. Possibly younger than you actually. “Yes, I had a big role as a villain, it really blew up, but, he's like a mythological comic book one. I am misunderstood mostly. I mean my character, not me.” "Sure." You nodded in understanding and agreed even if you didn’t quite pick up what he was putting down. You wondered if he had ever seen 'The Last Starfighter.' A favorite movie of yours, you rarely shared with anyone else. Or had he been in that? Your mind wandered. You really didn't recognize him, but you also didn't want to offend him by this fact.

“So how would this role be redefining your abilities? If you are playing a heartless hedge fund dude, isn’t that also a kind of villain? Maybe that is why you got this part.” Tom pondered your insight. He again fell into overthinking and was only a text away from bailing on the entire endeavor. He was becoming that kind of guy, emotionally uneven under his elite veneer.

“I guess they feel like I don’t have the chops to be a 'real world' baddie.” “I needed more practice.” “You don’t?” you said very timidly, suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore. You gently pushed your plate aside so you could focus.

You realized his bromance compadres would find him eventually. Another LA truth: it was hard to get truly lost for long. You had been studying his face during the conversation. His pale complexion was slowly becoming flushed in small increments. Was it shyness or a hidden boldness he was bursting to demonstrate, you couldn't tell.

You had worn your espadrilles today, maybe it wasn’t the right season yet, but they always went so well with your outfit-a flowery dress from H&M. Gently and playfully, you kicked one of them off your foot, making a soft thud. Tom dipped his eyes beneath the table for only a moment and brought them back to you, a new flash of crimson emerging. Why were you taking off your shoes? Maybe your feet hurt from the walk?

He picked up his water and chugged almost all of it.

Your right leg lifted up and found purchase exactly between his, landing on the soft seat. Tom chuckled nervously and grabbed your foot. “Just what are you doing?” “I thought you were in training to be a real villain. Or did I misunderstand that?” You teased. Tom’s sincerity and earnestness were effulgent. “Oh no, I am, I really want the part, I need this role.” Suddenly when the idea of something illicit going on beneath the table loomed, he was not reticent about this new role. “Then you better continue to practice.” You laughed, your own smile forming across your face. “How long do we have until they find you?” You inched your foot closer to his crotch.

Tom took a deep breath in and pulled out his flip phone eyes squinting, trying to see the rectangle text banner across the tiny screen. He held the phone up to you. “Can you read this at all?” You grabbed it from him, feeling his hand shaking a little. It was charming. He was nervous.

You read the tiny screen aloud, “Not really, something about where are you at…you wanker, we are about to call your agent." It did say exactly that, and you wondered if possibly Tom was throwing away this role. Were you watching him collapse his career before your eyes? “Are you one for self-sabotage Tom?” The question seemed to catch him off guard. Maybe no one had asked him so bluntly. “Maybe,” he said after a long minute of typing something on the seemingly minute phone with his long fingers and even larger hands. “Just like I am possibly depressed," you offered. He looked up and sat his phone down. “Yes, I think so. Just like that.”

Incoming

Just then the waitress came by filled your water glasses and gave you another quick refill of coffee. Your chosen sobriety was a strange foil to Tom’s imbibed stimulant cocktail which showed no sign of waning. “So, are we on?” He finally said after biting his bottom lip, for what seemed like a year, until it was slightly puffy.

“For what? A staring contest?” You offered, laughing nervously too, your foot still stationed between his thighs. You wondered what you could accomplish at this hour with the looming threat of an incursion at any moment.

The glimmer in his dilated orbs registered that Tom was now aligned in a mission of testing the perpetuity of your anhedonic state. Suddenly under the table, you felt his long legs spread yours apart, like opening a long-closed window that had been painted over.

You gasped but didn’t say anything. He laughed and widened his legs further. You moved your eyes to watch him under the table, his hand reaching down to adjust his cock, which was obviously becoming hard.

At that moment you wanted to jump over to his side of the booth, you wanted to concede and take him to your far away apartment in embarrassing Marina Del Rey.

Tom went silent and finally let go of your bare foot, he had been holding it so hard with his other hand, that you were sure it would be bruised. You immediately placed it on his now impossibly hard cock, tenting his pants obscenely. Honestly, you’d never given a “foot job” before and only seen something like this in a French film once. You had no idea what you were doing.

You slowly began to move your foot up and down his length, which was quite impressive and required more force than you had anticipated. You curled your toes around him to try and create more friction, dragging your heel just at the base.

You placed your hands on the edge of the diner seat so you could put some real weight into getting him off. That seemed to work, and Tom let out a guttural moan. He quickly grabbed your water glass and drank it in addition to his own.

“Should I stop?” You let yourself wonder out loud. “Are you crazy? No.” Was Tom’s quick reply. “Does this feel good?” “Fuck yes.” His voice was breathy, and he shifted in his seat, daring to look around at the customers, but none showed any sign of noticing anything other than themselves. “But this isn’t fair,” he spoke again softly, panting. “How so?” “Because I am um, I am receiving.” “Aren’t you supposed to be a selfish cold surface-level junior business asshole?” “Yes.” “Then this is what they do, they get foot jobs in diners, amongst other perks of course,” you laughed. “Shit, you’re right,” Tom barely squeaked out.

Just then the diner door opened, and you could see the dim faces of the guys he had been partying with. They finally found him. “Don’t look now but your Republican friends have arrived.” Tom’s flush became pale. “Should I stop?” You checked in again. “No.” His response was as clear as mid-day.

So, you increased your speed, you took a deep breath. You were so turned on at this point. You were positive there would be a wet spot on the cracked vinyl seat. You lifted your skirt up further. Tom noticed and peered beneath the table again. He saw your hand brush past your underwear and a finger curl inside the lace trim. You matched his erratic breathing to your motions as you fucked yourself intently. His eyes were glued to you, his fists almost punching into the flimsy placemats. You laughed to yourself about the chances of you both coming in public, surely, he wouldn’t, or you couldn’t.

You were about to mention that perhaps you should stop. When suddenly Tom let out a muffled cry. His breath hitched. You could feel moisture beneath the bottom of your toes as you brought your foot back to the tip of his generous cock once more. “Ah, I see,” you laughed. "Well looks like we are done here." There was no more time to discuss what just happened. The bros had spotted him and you and made their way to your back corner.

Tom closed his eyes in what looked like a silent prayer. He had just had one of the best orgasms of his life. The short blond one with cropped hair spoke up, “Hiddleston, where the fuck have you been, your agency was about to call the cops, which would have been lame.”

“Hiddleston,” you said his surname out loud. Realizing you never got his last name. Tom looked at you with both lust and remorse. Then turned back to the assholes. “You found me, good work,” he said assuredly. “Well we gotta go dick we have a strip club that closes at 3am and it’s in the contract that we take you there.”

Tom slowly got up and used one of his long fingers to expertly untuck that white button-down shirt to conceal the mess you had both made. He looked your way, the pale blue of his eyes returning.

You exchanged numbers for the pleasantry of it, as the assholes looked on impatiently, probably wondering why Tom was wasting his time on a girl who looked like Boudica, but that's just what assholes do you remembered. Although you really didn’t expect to hear from him again. To your surprise right before dawn, perhaps as he was leaving said strip club, a text came over your Blackberry.

“I hope you felt something, I know I did.” Shit.

You did feel something, a lot of things actually. Tom had brought something back to the solemnly plain bagel of your life. You quickly wrote back.

"Don't let the bros see you texting me Tom, you laughed knowing he was probably squinting and barely able to see your words. You picture all of them looking over his shoulder.

"They went home. Can I come over? I feel like we aren't done quite yet. My asshole-in-training self expires at sunrise and I turn back into the real me. Is that okay?" You blinked a few times just to make sure you saw that correctly. "So you're actually Cinderella," you laughed nervously.

You managed to type your address and push send before pulling your covers over your head and screaming quietly enough to not wake up your still-slumbering roommates. You then looked around your room in quiet delightful horror, you had about 30 minutes to hide all your dirty clothes from the past three months under your bed...

#Tom Hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x Reader #Tom Hiddleston fan fic #foot lover #meet cute

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mytheoristavenue · 2 years ago

Text

Straw Hats Reacting to Seeing You with Short Hair HCs

Summary: After two long years away from your friends, you are excited to reunite with them and see how they've changed (and vice versa).

Warnings: Fem!Reader, reader had long hair before the timeskip, plutonic!Chopper and Jinbe, no preestablished relationship (just silly crushes)

(Sidenote: I realize that Jinbe was not officially apart of the crew until the Wano arc, but I wanted to include him because I wanted to share my Dad!Jinbe HCs too.😅)

Intro:

You sat on the railing of the Sunny, smiling happily to the sidelines, watching your friends buzz around each other, greeting one another. You silently observed them all, noting ways that they'd changed physically, or shifts in their demeanors as you'd known them. Looking out to the sea, you beamed, letting your hood fall lax against your shoulders, revealing a shaven head, with what may have been a mere inch of the length you'd had the last time you were seen. You blinked in surprise at the silence that fell over the ship. A few had the curiosity to comment on the drastic change, prompting you to explain:

"Oh, I buzzed it about a month ago. It got in the way of my training. Do you like it?"

Monkey D. Luffy:

"What'd you do to your hair?" he asked frankly, cocking his head, a bit puzzled. "It's so short now, like a boy." You giggled a bit, before explaining. The captain circled you, inspecting you closely for any other startling changes. "Will it grow back?" Your heart sank a tiny bit at his disapproval, making you feel a mite insecure.

"Well, yeah. It's just hair, Luffy." you scoff, crossing your arms at his dramatics.

"Are you gonna shave it again if it does?" He interrogated you, face inching closer with an accusatory glare.

"I don't know, maybe?" you barked back, backing away from him, only to be trapped between him and the railing of the ship. "What's with the second degree, man?"

"Well, that's just not gonna work." he tutted, backing away and giving you your space before grinning ear to ear with hands on hips. "As your captain, I command you to keep your hair short. It makes you look way more intimidating and I need crewmembers that are gonna strike fear in the hearts of my enemies!"

Loves it, thinks you look so cool. 9/10

Pirate Hunter Zoro:

You fell under Zoro's perpetually annoyed gaze as he studied you before smiling a bit. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were copying me." he teased, earning a blush from you.

"Oh, don't flatter yourself, moss head!" you snarled before explaining why you'd done it in the first place.

"Mhm," he snickered. "It definitely wasn't for attention." he chided, eyes resting for a moment before flickering back open and over to you. "I'm just messing with you. I actually like it, you should keep it that way."

You became bashful under his stare and tried your best to play yourself off as unaffected by his compliments. "Yeah, whatever, we'll see."

Likes it, thinks it's cute. Respects the reasoning behind it. 8/10

Cat Burglar Nami:

"Oh my Gosh, what did you do to your hair?" she shrieked, rushing over to you, rubbing her hands all through what little there was left, tears in her eyes. "(Y/N), you're pretty hair!"

"Will grow back," you laughed, taking her by the wrists to pry her hands from your head. "I bet it'll be long long yours was within a few months." A part of you was a little hurt that she didn't seem to like it. Though you didn't do it for the sake of fashion, you did like the way it looked on you, and you wished she shared that sentiment.

"You're right..." she pouted, still a bit disappointed. "I'm sorry, I'm just gonna miss playing with your hair."

"You still can," you joked. "Now it'll be even more of a challenge."

Not thrilled, but she'll live. A bit excited to gel/spike it, just for fun. 3/10

God Usopp:

He stared at you intently for a moment before stepping up to you, fidgeting nervously. "You cut off all your hair?"

"Yep!" you chirped, hopping off the railing and leaning against it, ruffling your own scalp while explaining why. "What do you think, Usopp?"

He was hesitant to answer, wanting to choose his words very carefully. Ultimately, he decided to try and play things cool, clearing his throat. "It's cool or whatever." he brushed it off, his face contorting weirdly as he tried to settle on a manly expression.

"You can tell me if you don't like it, I won't care. It's already gone, it's not like I can put it back." He continued his charade for a few moments more before releasing a deep breath, looking up at you timidly.

"Okay, I like it." he admitted, glancing away, feeling a tad defeated. If he was going to tell the truth, he might as well tell the hole truth. "You look really, really pretty, actually."

"Awe, Usopp, you're so sweet!" you gushed, pulling him into a humiliating hug, squeezing his face to your chest. "Maybe I should keep it like this."

"I-I'd like that."

OBSESSED. Thinks you've never looked better. Can no longer look at you with a straight face, though. 10/10

Black Leg Sanji:

He smiled at you softly, stepping up to you. It worried you that he was no longer swooning over you as he always had. Maybe you looked too boyish now. "This is...different." he cooed, reaching up to caress the side of your temple.

"Is different bad?" you asked, cringing a bit as you waited for his answer.

"Not necessarily in this case. " he answered vaguely. "Change is good sometimes."

"I suppose you don't like it as much as I do?" you asked, a bit saddened by his short answers this far, but elated at the way his fingers continued to play with the short strands they could find.

"What makes you think that?"

"You're not fawning over me like you did with Nami and Robin. Or even how you used to with me." you pointed out a tad too somberly.

"That's because I only swoon over pretty girls." You could feel your heartstrings tightening after hearing those words tumbler over his lips. How could he be so rude?

"Sanji! What the hell?" you spat, but his serene demeanor never faltered. "Just because I don't look as pretty as I used to, doesn't mean you can just openly insult me!"

"My apologies, I like to take the time to properly appreciate true beauty when I find it, so you'll have to excuse my staring." Your cheeks caught fire as you processed what he'd said. Was he calling you...beautiful? Was he saying he was more attracted to you than other women? "And a beauty such as yours is a most rare treasure indeed."

Adores it. Can't even imagine you with longer hair now. 10/10

Tony Tony Chopper:

"Oh no, (Y/N)!" he scuttled over to you, instantly taking your hand to drag you away. "What happened to you?!"

"What do you mean, Chopper?" you asked, halting in your tracks, knowing he couldn't move you on his own. With a gentle smile, you crouched to his level and let him come into your arms, his little hooves on your knees. "Now tell me, what's got you so riled up?"

"All your hair fell out! Did you get sick while we were gone?" he fretted, eyes glossy with concern. Try as you did, you couldn't help but snicker at his naivety. "It's not funny, (Y/N)! Tell me what's wrong right now! If we wait, I might not have enough time to treat you!"

"I'm not sick, I promise!" you giggled as he tried to pull at you again, only to freeze in his tacks.

"So where'd all your hair go then?"

"I shaved it." you smiled, explaining your reasoning as to why. Afterwards, Chopper felt very foolish, pouting with crossed arms and back to you. "It was giving me headaches because it was too long." you fibbed, bringing him back into your arms.

"So you did it so you'll feel better?" he perked, glancing at you over his shoulder.

"I did. It was the best I could do." you explained with a sigh. "I didn't have the best doctor on the Grand Line to treat me anymore, so I had to improvise."

"Oh, shut up!" he gushed, swaying back and forth a bit, a bashful heat in his cheeks.

Not excited about you taking your health into your own hands, (especially at the loss of your pretty hair) but he's happy you're feeling better. 5/10

Devil Child Robin:

She had been eying you from across the ship for a while now. Even before the big reveal, ever astute, she could see glimpses of your scalp, and took note when your hair had yet to fall over your shoulders when in positions that should have allowed for it. Now that the hype was beginning to die down, she slowly inched towards you with that serene smile that always rattled your bones. "Quite the chop," she remarked, circling you to get a good 360 view of you.

"Yeah," you replied nervously. Robin was always good at concealing her thoughts and feelings. She could find you repulsing and never let on. It was one of her most terrifying attributes. "What do you think?" you asked, knowing that if nothing else, she was honest, sometimes brutally so. That, you figured, was much better than this state of wondering.

"I have to admit, I thought you're longer hair looked exquisite on you. It always framed your face so nicely." she smiled, reaching up to ghost her fingertips over the shocked ends of your buzzcut.

"O-Oh," you faltered. "I appreciate your honesty."

"But," she continued, her gaze falling from the (H/C) fuzz down to your eyes with the most genuine expression. "I like this much better. I've never seen anything more (Y/N)."

Your face lit up at her compliments, knowing how true they were if it was her saying them. "You really think so?"

"I do, this suits you very well."

Loves how unique it makes you look. Thinks it's very 'you'. 8/10

Cyborg Franky:

"Where'd all your hair go?" he asked, couching down to inspect you. You explained with a laugh, running your fingers though it before looking back up at it. After a moment of contemplation, he cracked an enthusiastic grin. "Well, I think it's pretty badass!" he shouted, scooping you up into his mechanical arms and hoisting you to sit on his shoulder. "Hey, ya know what we should do?"

"What?" you asked with a giggle.

Suddenly, his pompadour fell lax and reshaped itself into a row of spikes. "We should get matching leather jackets and when your hair grows out a little more, we could do mohawks! How cool would that be? Ride into to battle like that, we'd be the scariest lookin' guys out there!"

Obsessed with it. Will not leave you alone now about spiking it, and every time you port, he tries to get you to go shopping for biker gear with him. 10/10

Soul King Brook:

His head tilted as he stared at you though curious hollowed sockets. You felt a bit uncomfortable under his silent gaze, and tried to inch yourself out of it, to no avail. "Are you going to say anything?" you asked, features cringing at his creeping. Still, he continued his act, slinking toward you until he was inches away, towering over you.

His lanky spine bent, cracking as it did to try and meet your height, and his skeletal fingers found themselves under your chin. Unsure of what he was planning, your cheeks began to glow with embarrassment. Eventually, he'd seemingly given up on leaning over, opting to simply crouch, his knees popping as they fell into place. "Why aren't you saying anything...?" you wondered aloud.

"I'm studying." he simply answered. "I want to remember ever bit of you after your gone."

Why the hell was he being so cryptic? You'd never heard Brook say a romantic thing in your life, he's always just been a creep to you and the other girls. "So, do you like my hair?" you asked cautiously.

"I don't care about your hair." he reassured. "I think your lovely no matter how long or short it is." It was at this point you realized that his sockets were not trained on your face or your hair, but your cleavage. You immediately delivered a ripe smack to his cheekbones, before assaulting's him with a barrage of insults.

Doesn't really care. Prefers your longer hair, but when he's looking at you, he's rarely looking at your face, so it doesn't matter. 5/10

Knight of the Sea Jinbe:

He looked down on you lovingly as you came to him, enveloping him in a hug. "I missed you," he smiled. "So very much."

"I missed you too." you sniffled as you pulled away. You had grow very close to him in the recent years, fighting alongside him many times and exchanging letters during your time away. He had been the only one to know where you'd gone to train, and he often sent you your favorite snacks, or even little trinkets when he could afford the risk. He had been the only one you'd told about your chop. He was like your dad, how could you go without talking to him?

"I've never seen a more beautiful little girl," he remarked, cupping your cheek, and resisting the urge to let his emotions get the better of him.

"I'm not a little kid anymore." you reminded him, nudging his large hand away.

"I know," he sighed, memories of his first time seeing you as a small child flooding back to him. "You've grown up entirely too quickly. I hardly even noticed.

You rolled your eyes at his sentimentality. "How do you like my new do?"

"It's not how I imagined it, from how you described in your letters." he replied, putting on a falsely curious face and ruffling it to 'test' it. "I may need to inspect it before I get you an answer."

"I had to keep some mystery about it, right?" you laughed. "How else am I supposed to keep you on your toes, old man?" You both shared a hearty laugh as you embraced once more.

"I don't think you could look prettier."

Adores it, but only because it's on you. Just happy to see you again. ♾/10

#one piece #one piece hcs #one piece fluff #nico robin #god usopp #mugiwara no luffy #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro #soul king brook #seraphim jinbe #cat burglar nami #nami #vinsmoke sanji #tony tony chopper #cyborg franky #usopp

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ecliptiz · 1 year ago

Note

Heyyy do you mind if I make a request? If you don't wanna write this that's obvs totally fine I just wanted to ask and see 💗

Could I ask for peter pettigrew x reader where reader is a little bit apprehensive of him because in thier younger years at hogwarts she fell victim to some of thier pranks and general silliness. Now in the last year of school she's in a class with peter and they have to share a book and so she has meet with him in the common room for working together for this class and she begins to realize that the marauders aren't that bad and somehow squeeze in some mutual pining between pete and reader and maybe the other marauders somehow set them up

(Yes I am aware of the cheesey-ness of this, if you could somehow find a way to squeeze in some angst that would be sublime because I love cute cheesy fics but I also love angst so I'm kind of torn on what I want really just anything with peter would be great if you can 💗🥰 )

𝗪𝗛𝗬 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗪𝗘 𝗛𝗘𝗥𝗘 ╰► PETER PETTIGREW

SUMMARY — Sharing a book leads to a lot of things with the boy you thought you hated.

WARNINGS — CURSING

PETER PETTIGREW, an unassuming figure among the flamboyant constellation known as the Marauders, seemed to carry a perpetual aura of being overshadowed.

In a group where Remus held the enigmatic allure, Sirius radiated a bad-boy magnetism, and James exuded charisma that could light up the entire room, Peter was the quiet comet trailing slightly behind.

He lacked the rebel spirit that made Sirius captivating, the athletic prowess that drew attention to James, or the layered complexity that shrouded Remus.

Instead, he was just Peter — an unremarkable blonde boy with a penchant for sugary treats, indifferent to the allure of books or the thrill of sports.

His life was the epitome of normalcy, from his home routine to his uneventful days. Amid the cacophony of his more vibrant friends, he occupied the role of an exception rather than the rule.

Yet, against all expectations, his gaze started to drift toward a certain girl who possessed an uncanny ability to captivate him, even when her actions seemed trivial to others.

Whether engrossed in her books during class, fiercely competitive on the Quidditch field, quietly rebelling against authority, or simply navigating an ordinary day, she never failed to seize his attention.

For better or worse, she had woven herself into the fabric of his thoughts, casting a spell on his mundane existence and revealing the unexplored shades of Peter Pettigrew.

And there she was, nestled in the warm embrace of the common room, surrounded by the familiar faces of her friends. Her attention was drawn to their lively banter, laughter harmonizing like a soothing melody. Unbeknownst to her, a pair of intense blue eyes were fixated on her from a distance, tracing her every movement.

Meanwhile, those very eyes were the subject of another's scrutiny. Sirius, the audacious one of the bunch, leaned in with an impish grin, his raven-black hair adding to his aura of mischief. "Who ya’ looking at, Wormy?" he chimed, his voice laced with teasing curiosity.

Peter's heart raced, his gaze quickly veering away, panic dancing in his eyes. His efforts to evade Remus and James's knowing looks proved futile, and he was caught in their playful trap. "No one, just the—uh... window, yeah," Peter stumbled over his words, attempting to sound casual, but his furtive glances in her direction betrayed his façade.

James seized the opportunity with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, his voice carrying a singsong quality. "Oo…" he cooed, delighting in Peter's discomfort. Unsurprisingly, the attempt to downplay his interest had failed. Peter's vehement denial only fueled their amusement.

Quickly shaking his head, Peter fervently dismissed their assumptions. "No, no 'oo'," he protested, his voice slightly too high-pitched in his nervousness. The length of his blond hair shifted as he moved, and in that seemingly trivial detail, his awkwardness was encapsulated.

"Wormtail likes a girl," James teased, his voice playfully sing-song as his round glasses slipped down his nose.

Remus raised his head from his book, a subtle yet teasing smirk gracing his lips.

"Which one is it? The one with the black hair? Oo, maybe the blonde!" James speculated, his excitement palpable.

“Maybe the (H/C) one?" Sirius chimed in, his gray eyes dancing with mischief. As the blush painted Peter's cheeks, Sirius erupted in laughter, raising his hands in mock celebration.

"It is!" Sirius declared triumphantly, elbowing Remus and pointing in the direction of the (H/C) girl. He turned to Remus with an eager grin. "Who is it, Remus? You're like our walking encyclopaedia."

Remus paused, humming in thought for a moment. "Y/N, she’s in our Potions class," he replied, his gaze shifting to Peter along with an arched eyebrow. "And Peter sits right next to her," he added with a playful edge, knowing well where this was leading.

James laughed heartily as Sirius erupted in cheers, earning a few odd glances from those around them. "Finally! Peter's getting a lady, lads," he proclaimed, mixing teasing with a mock serious tone.

However, the enthusiasm was short-lived as Remus interjected. "I don’t think she likes us," he admitted, dampening their spirits.

The realization weighed heavily, but it was no news to Peter, who had already experienced the brunt of Y/N's indifference firsthand, feeling her pointed glances and cool reception whenever he tried to initiate a conversation.

"Why do you say that?" Sirius inquired, reclining on the couch with his legs spread out and his arms casually draped behind him.

"Do you remember that prank we pulled in our third year? The one involving that paint which turned people neon and made them glow like that for a month?" Remus posed the question, tilting his head in recollection.

Sirius nodded, his expression pensive as he pieced the memory together. James mirrored the same contemplative look.

"What about it?" Sirius pressed, a quizzical eyebrow raised. Remus delivered his response with an exasperated eye-roll. "Y/N was the unfortunate victim. We ruined all her homework, papers, her clothes—everything she was wearing," he recounted, listing the extensive damage they had caused.

As Remus spoke, Peter felt a heavy pang of guilt settle within him, his shoulders slumping in response.

James winced, his lips forming a tight line as he glanced at Peter, sympathy evident in his eyes.

Sirius, on the other hand, hissed through his teeth, his gaze now on Peter. "You certainly picked a challenging one there, Pete," he jested, patting Peter's shoulder with a chuckle.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

PETER FELT A sickening sensation gnaw at his stomach, his nerves twisting into tight knots. He sat in the Potions class, a restless heat simmering beneath his cauldron, which signaled one thing—today's practical potion session.

Beside him sat Y/N, her expression a picture of boredom as she idly gazed at the flickering flames beneath her cauldron. The professor's words cut through the still air, announcing the day's task: a potion-brewing assignment.

Y/N's attention shifted to her satchel, her brows furrowing as she rifled through its contents. She paused, her searching becoming more frantic as she realized her textbook was nowhere to be found. An inward curse accompanied her reluctance to turn to Peter for help.

With a reluctant sigh, she finally spoke, her tone tinged with ennui. "I don’t have my book." Externally nonchalant, inside she was churning with worry.

What if Peter had shared her eccentricities with the other Marauders, leading to some sort of bizarre hex? She had heard a rumor from a seventh-year Hufflepuff that they were involved in an eerie cult-like activity within the Shrieking Shack.

On the other hand, Peter was grappling with a jumble of thoughts, his mind a swirling vortex of nervousness. Staring at her, his book hung limply in his hand, his words stumbled and tripped in his mind, leaving him tongue-tied.

"We can, uh... share?" he eventually stammered, inwardly cringing at the crack in his voice. Her gaze lingered on him for a moment, and he felt himself shrink under her scrutiny, his cheeks turning a shade warmer than he'd have liked.

After a brief pause, Y/N nodded in agreement, shifting closer to him. This simple movement sent tremors through Peter's nerves, his palms clammy and his heartbeat resonating in his ears.

He tried to steady his trembling hand as he opened the textbook, attempting to act natural while his mind raced with a whirlwind of emotions.

The professor's voice cut through the air, announcing the next part of the class. "And with your table partners, you will be composing a six-inch essay on the effects of this potion, its consistency, and the brewing process—covering the standard topics."

Peter's heart felt like it had taken a sudden leap, only to plummet back into his chest. Spending extended time with Y/N was both thrilling and terrifying for him.

Meanwhile, Y/N couldn't help but internally groan at the prospect. The last thing she wanted was to be stuck working closely with a Marauder, especially since their presence seemed to come in a package deal.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

Y/N SAT IN the cozy corner of the Gryffindor common room, Peter beside her on the red couch. Books, quills, and scattered sheets of paper were strewn across the table,

Despite the material at their fingertips, Y/N felt the weight of awkwardness settle in the air. Her posture was rigid, and words seemed to evade her.

Despite the material at their fingertips, Y/N felt the weight of awkwardness settle in the air. Her posture was rigid, and words seemed to evade her. She was acutely aware of the eyes of James and Sirius on them, making her heart race uncomfortably.

Across from them, Remus occasionally looked up from his book, his gentle smile a mixture of understanding and encouragement.

"So, is this one of the effects, or is it for a different aspect?" Peter's voice broke the silence, a seemingly innocent question that held the true purpose of engaging in conversation with Y/N.

She glanced at her book, hiding a small smile. "It says 'effects' right here," she replied, her laughter softening the atmosphere and putting Peter at ease.

"Yeah, come on, Pete," Sirius chimed in, appearing behind the couch with a mischievous grin. He rested his arms on their shoulders, pushing them slightly together.

Y/N stiffened initially, suspicion clouding her expression. However, a deep breath later, she allowed herself to relax. Perhaps Sirius wasn't up to his usual pranks this time?

Peter also eased up, mirroring her movements. The unexpected push from Sirius brought them closer, their shoulders touching.

Sirius released them with a satisfied whistle, striding away as if his brief interference had been entirely innocent. James struggled to suppress his laughter behind his hand, amused by Sirius's antics.

Neither Y/N nor Peter moved.

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

FOUR MONTHS, six days, and two hours had elapsed since that fateful day—an interval that hadn't gone unnoticed by Sirius, who was meticulously keeping track.

"Peter, it's high time you made a move," Sirius declared, his expression firm as he stared down at the groggy trio seated on the floor, all clutching their pillows.

Groans of protest filled the room, Remus's voice particularly raspy from sleep. His hair was in disarray, and his eyes struggled to focus.

"Did you have to wake us for this?" Remus complained, rubbing his eyes and stifling a yawn.

"Yes, because for the past two months, you two have been inseparable. Peter can probably recite her favorite shampoo brand by now. Don't you think it's about time?" Sirius's voice held an air of exasperation, his tongue clicking in annoyance.

James let out a long-suffering sigh, closing his eyes and burying his face into his pillow. "Do we have to go through this? Peter's practically sleepwalking at this point!" he protested, gesturing toward the disheveled figure that appeared half-asleep, barely registering the conversation.

"James, remember last year with Lily? You had us going through this every single night!" Sirius retorted, his hair a wild mess as he shook his head.

"I've even got bets riding on this, James. Marlene bet against me, claiming they won't get together this month. And I've staked my hair on it! My hair!" Sirius's voice reached an incredulous pitch as he emphasized the gravity of the situation.

Peter stirred from his half-asleep state, mouth hanging slightly open with a small trail of drool. "Huh? What's happening...?" he mumbled, his speech slurred and drowsy.

Sirius grinned, his grey eyes shining as he shook the boy back and forth by the shoulders. “We’re gonna get you a girlfriend, Pete.”

˗ˏˋ ★ ˎˊ˗

THEY RELENTLESSLY attempted various schemes to portray Peter as a hero, a selfless gentleman, a smooth talker—anything to capture the attention of the girl he secretly pined for, the girl whose minutest details he knew by heart.

One strategy involved James hurling a bludger in her direction, supposedly for Peter to heroically intercept before it reached her. The outcome? A bloodied nose, an irritated Y/N, a sheepish James, a rolled-eyed Remus, and a barely-contained laughter from Sirius.

Then there was the attempt to make Peter appear exceptionally intelligent. They covertly provided him with answers to questions the professor posed, but alas, he ended up delivering the wrong responses half the time.

They even tried to coach Peter in the art of flirting, an endeavor that concluded with him crashing headlong into a wall while trying to charm Y/N on their way to class, leaving him with a concussion and Y/N understandably perplexed.

As the week neared its end, the boys found themselves somewhat disheartened. Despite their efforts, Peter seemed to have made little progress—assuming they had missed any subtle signs—and their attempts at pet-sitting for Y/N's cat had resulted in scratches all over them.

The cat was clearly not fond of their company.

Peter's mood was gloomy as he sat alone in the library, his posture guarded and defeated. His gaze was fixed hazily on a romance book titled 'A Guide to Love for Dummies,' which he had already read three times over.

When someone sat down nearby, he quickly tossed the book aside, looking up with a mixture of surprise and trepidation, only to meet Y/N's (E/C) eyes.

Startled, he took a shaky breath, his cheeks taking on a reddish hue. A similar change in color adorned her (S/C) skin, puzzling him even further. He cleared his throat, attempting to appear nonchalant as he rested his head on his hand, his other hand resting on his waist—an intended display of casualness that didn't quite go as planned.

His arm slipped, causing his head to thump against the table. Panicking slightly, he shot up straight, clearing his throat again.

"Y/N!" he attempted to deepen his voice, but it cracked embarrassingly.

"Peter." Her smile was warm, her gaze flickering between his flushed cheeks and his sparkling eyes.

"What were you reading?" Her inquiry was accompanied by a glance toward the book he had discarded. Unbeknownst to Peter, she was quite aware of his reading material—she had been discreetly observing him too.

“A- uh..Sports book! Yeah muggle sports book.” He said hurriedly, eyes widening when her hand made its way to rest in his.

“So uh- Peter I’ve been thinking about your little stunts with your friends.” She spoke, her soft voice turning serious.

She had alsways thought the Marauders were stuck up bullies, and that may be true to some extent she had gotten to know them over the time..getting to talk to Remus about things like books, life, walks. Being able to Talk to James, or debate with him about random things, not every getting really mad at eachother. Being able to Talk to Sirius about more Serious things- pun intended- the stars, gossip.

And being able to gaze at Peter when he was doing random things, and feeling a warm feeling in her heart, something that made her head spin , tummy twist and turn and a hard to get rid of smile bloom on her face.

Peter watched her, eyes wide and brows furrowed- lip darting out to wet his dry lips.

“I uh..” she trailed off, taking a deep breath.

Peter thought of all the words Sirius had said to him, what James had said, and pushed them to the side- there advice sucked. But he could rely on Remus’s advice.

And following Remus he did. His mouth moved before his brain, words spilling out. “I like you! Really like you..i like everything about you, i like how your serious face looks, i like your smile and how your eyes look when you do..” Peter continues to ramble about her, all while Y/N listens with parted lips, heart beating in her ears.

And in the end, lips jumbled together, expressed feelings and thumping hearts.

Peter was no longer a figure in the background, he was in the main light to the most important person of his life, he was no longer the full character, he had bloomed.

And instead of a dull flashing star in the night sky, he was one of the brightest, shining amongst the ones he was once in the background for. He was no longer the ‘The fourth Marauder’ he was ‘Peter Pettigrew’

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