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jetii · 4 months ago

Text

Promises Made (pt. 1/3)

Part Two | Part Three

Pairing: Crosshair x fem!Reader / Crosshair x Jedi!Reader

Words: 5,234 / 23,314

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! angst, hurt/comfort, themes of grief/death/mourning, protective!Crosshair, everyone is bad at feelings, this part is at least 50% bickering, smut in part 3

Summary: Crosshair is back, and you're the only one who still can't seem to forgive him. When you finally have the lead you've been seeking since the extinction of the Jedi, you seize the opportunity to escape the constant turmoil his presence causes you. Of course, Crosshair has other plans.

A/N: This is my longest work yet, so I decided to split it up into parts. But if you’re just here for the smut, don’t worry, the emotional edging is worth it! It’s my first time writing Crosshair so please let me know how I’m doing.🤞 Part two will be posted same time next week.

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“I’ll be back before you know it.” You pat Omega’s head, smiling warmly down at the young girl as she clings to you. It hurt to leave her again, but you were going to be gone for a few days at most, not weeks.

Still, her grip doesn’t let up, and her gaze is turned downwards. Things had slowly gone back to normal since you all returned to Pabu from Barton IV, with the exception of Omega’s reluctance to let any of you out of her sight.

That, and how Crosshair had been acting, which was to say he was avoiding you at all costs.

That was fine with you. The others may have forgiven him, but you weren't so ready to let bygones be bygones. You could tolerate being in the same room as him, but that was as far as you were willing to go. At least until you could figure out why you were still so upset.

And it was frustrating, not being able to put your finger on the cause of your irritation. Crosshair hadn't apologized, but you expected as much. He wasn't the type. You had already forgiven him for betraying the team and refusing to come back, but something was still keeping you from completely letting go.

It was unbecoming of a Jedi, you knew that, but you couldn't shake off your resentment.

It didn't help that his behavior was confusing. The day you got back, the others had gone about their usual routine. But not Crosshair. He was more quiet and standoffish than ever, but it didn't seem directed at anyone. It was almost like he was uncomfortable, and not just in general, but with being around you.

You knew he was spending most of his time by the water, though you never saw him when you went out there yourself. Just his rifle, sitting on the rocks.

The others insisted it was a good sign that he was taking the time to process everything. You didn't have the heart to tell them that you could still sense him through the Force whenever you went out, and his unrest was clear. The tremble of his hand, his uneven breaths, his mind racing, all of it.

The only other time you felt him was when you were alone in your room. You were trying to meditate when he walked past. You could feel his eyes on you, could feel him hesitating at the door, before he ultimately chose to move on.

The thought of confronting him made you anxious. You didn't know what would happen, and you didn't know if you wanted to find out.

For now, you just wanted to keep your distance and get your anger under control. Leaving for a few days to take care of your own problems will give you the space you need, and hopefully, things will go back to normal once you get back.

"Omega?" you ask, trying to get her attention. She finally looks up at you, and you see the concern in her eyes. Your heart aches, and you kneel down, pulling her into a tight hug.

“I know,” she finally whispers.

She doesn't want you to leave. But you were.

The mission would only take a day or two, and then you'd be back. One of your old contacts had called in, saying that she had some intel you needed. You didn't have the full story, but that wasn't going to stop you from dropping everything to answer. You'd been waiting over a year for a call like this, and you needed to see it through on your own.

So you kneel, meeting Omega eye to eye. You hold out your little finger, and she sighs, unmoving. You wiggle it, drawing a soft laugh from the girl.

You’d taught her how to pinky swear not long after you rejoined the Batch. It was a sort of tradition between you and your Master, and him and his, and so on.

The promise was more sacred than a verbal one to you, even if it was more juvenile than others. It meant that the person who sealed the deal was obligated to fulfill their promise, or face a lifetime of bad luck.

Of course, you never believed that part, but you liked the sentiment behind the gesture.

"I promise I'll be back," you whisper, "don't finish Spaceworld without me, okay?"

"Okay," Omega mumbles, a weak smile on her lips. She takes your pinky with hers, and the two of you shake. "You promise you'll be safe?"

"Always," you tell her, low and serious.

Hunter watches the exchange, nodding his approval. He doesn't understand the point of the ritual, but he knows enough to know that Omega feels better. And that you'd keep your word.

Your eyes meet his and he nods, silently telling you to hurry and get going. You straighten and turn toward the Marauder, your bag slung over your shoulder, and start off.

Before you can step foot on the ramp, a voice stops you in your tracks, and your blood runs cold.

“You’re leaving?”

Crosshair steps out from under the shadow of the archway behind you, and you spin around. His eyes narrow when you face him, his hands clenched tightly around his rifle. He stands stiff, as though waiting for a fight.

You're surprised by his presence, surprised he's even talking to you, but your expression doesn't betray the shock. Your brow furrows as you regard him, trying to figure out his angle.

“I’m meeting up with a contact for a mission. I won't be gone long. Two days, maybe less, if everything goes according to plan."

You don't want to explain further, and your tone leaves no room for argument. But Crosshair has never been one to listen to what you want.

He takes a step forward, his eyes flitting over to Hunter for a brief moment, before looking at you again.

"Who's going with you?"

You frown. "What does it matter?"

"Who's going with you?" he repeats the question, slower, a hint of anger lacing his words.

You're silent for a moment, trying to figure out his ulterior motive. You didn't want to tell him, but if he wasn't going to give up, it might just be easier.

"No one," you answer, the words spilling out. "Just me."

The second the words leave your lips, you know you've said the wrong thing. Crosshair's expression morphs into one of fury, his jaw clenched, his brow furrowed.

"You’re letting her go alone?” he asks, turning toward Hunter with an accusatory look. You bristle at the remark, the need to defend yourself growing stronger.

Hunter sighs, running a hand through his hair. He glances at you, and you stare back. You were determined to handle this alone, and while Hunter didn't like it, he understood. So you'd made a deal, the same one you made with Omega, that you'd return quickly and come back alive.

He gives a subtle nod, and you return it.

“I’m not ‘letting her’ do anything. She's an adult, she can do whatever she wants," he answers, crossing his arms. Crosshair's head snaps toward him, his mouth open, but Hunter cuts him off, "Besides, she said she could handle it, and I believe her."

Hunter's words should have made you happy, should have filled you with a sense of pride, but instead all you feel is dread.

If Crosshair had looked angry before, he was downright furious now. His expression morphs from shock to frustration, and his glare shifts from Hunter to you.

You're taken aback by the change. Crosshair had never looked at you like that, not even when he left the squad and you behind.

The look is gone before you can question it, replaced by a steely resolve. He stalks past you, his shoulder brushing yours as he climbs the ramp of the ship.

He doesn't say anything else, doesn't even spare a glance in your direction, and you stare after him, mouth agape, until you realize what he's doing.

"Absolutely not," you snarl, stomping up the ramp behind him. You move to grab his shoulder, but he shrugs you off. "You are not coming with me. I don't want or need your help."

Crosshair ignores your protests, dropping into the copilot's seat. He begins going over the controls, his brow furrowed.

"I don't remember inviting you," you snap. "Get out."

"Don't you mean thank you?" He doesn't turn to look at you, doesn't even spare a glance, as he answers.

"I will thank you when you leave," you seethe. You take a step forward, reaching for his shoulder again. You want him out, and if you have to drag him off the ship, you will.

But he's quicker than you, spinning around to catch your wrist. His hand trembles slightly as he holds it, his grip tightening for a fraction of a second before he releases you.

"You're welcome."

He turns away again, focusing on the control panel, and you growl, frustrated. You can feel your anger bubbling beneath the surface, and you know if you don't calm down, it'll spill over.

"Cross," you start, slowly, trying to keep the venom from your voice, "I don't want you to come with me."

"And I don't want you to leave, but here we are."

He doesn't sound angry anymore, doesn't sound anything, really, but his tone still sets you on edge.

"Look, I know you don't like it, but--"

"Then don't go," he interrupts, his fingers gripping the armrests.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. This was pointless. He isn’t listening to a word you’re saying, and the longer you argue, the longer it will take for you to get off world. If you don’t get going soon, you’ll be late.

"Fine," you hiss, moving to the pilot's seat. "Do whatever you want."

"Good," he replies, his tone sharp. He leans back in the chair, his arms crossed.

You buckle in and begin the startup sequence, ignoring him. You try to focus on the task at hand, but his presence is distracting, and it takes you a minute longer than usual to finish prepping the ship.

He's still tense, and so are you, but the tension is different. It's uncomfortable, the atmosphere too quiet and too loud all at once. Neither of you speak, and the only sounds are those of the Marauder starting up and the distant chatter of the others outside.

You focus on getting the ship into the air, and Crosshair stares at the ceiling. When you've cleared the planet, you set the coordinates and the ship jumps into hyperspace.

The silence continues. You hate it. You hate how tense things have been, how awkward, how strained.

You don't like him, not anymore, and he's made it clear he doesn't like you, but you were stuck with each other now. You were on a mission, and you didn't have time to sit and stew in your emotions.

"I have a job to do," you say, finally breaking the silence. "It's nothing major, just an exchange. Intel for credits. If you're going to come, then don't get in my way."

Crosshair says nothing, and you don't turn to look at him, but you hear him shift in his seat, the fabric rustling.

"Fine," he responds after some time, his voice quiet. "So what are they giving you?"

You glance over at him, startled by his sudden interest, and you're not sure how to respond. He stares back, his face blank, his expression carefully neutral. It's hard to read him, and while you can't sense any negative emotion from him, you don't trust it.

You fidget, wringing your hands in your lap. This was a bad idea. You shouldn't have told him. He was going to judge you for it, or worse, mock you.

You open your mouth to reply, but the words don't come out. What were you supposed to tell him? The truth?

No.

"Doesn't matter," you murmur, turning away from him.

You wish he'd let the conversation drop. You weren't ready for him to know. You weren't even sure if he'd understand.

"It obviously does, or you wouldn't be this worked up about it," he counters. His voice is quiet, but his tone is firm.

"I'm not worked up." You cross your arms, staring out the viewport.

"Sure you're not."

You can practically hear him roll his eyes, and it makes you angrier.

"I'm not!"

"Okay, okay. Just calm down."

"Stop telling me what to do," you growl, shooting a glare in his direction.

"Stop being so stubborn, and I will."

"Why do you even care, anyway?”

He flinches slightly, and you can see his expression soften as you hold his gaze, watching as he searches for a response. It takes him a second, and you observe in real time as the walls go back up, his face morphing into a neutral mask.

"I don't."

"Then stop acting like it," you say, rolling your eyes.

He tenses at your words, and he doesn't respond right away. You think he's finally dropped the subject, but he pushes further, his tone cold. "Why do you need it?"

"It's none of your business."

"You're my business,” he says, quick and sharp.

Then, his eyes widen, and his mouth snaps closed. He's clearly as surprised by his response as you are, and the two of you stare at each other in silence, your heart pounding.

"Oh."

You're not sure what else to say. The two of you aren't friends, aren't anything, but the weight of his statement doesn't go unnoticed.

You can't figure out if he means it.

You're not sure what to think.

"I mean..." he starts, but doesn't finish. He looks away, clearing his throat.

"It's fine," you interrupt, not wanting to make things more awkward. The tension is back, and you hate it, but at least you've reached an understanding.

There's nothing between you, not anymore.

Crosshair's quiet, and you're grateful for the silence. You take a deep breath, letting the air out slowly. You'd have time to unpack that later, but right now you had to focus on the mission. You could worry about him when this was over.

After a moment, he turns toward you, his gaze flitting over your face. He doesn't look mad, and his expression is almost pensive.

Finally, he sighs.

"You're not going to tell me what it is, are you?" he asks, watching you carefully.

You shake your head. "You’ll find out when I get it."

He stares at you for a long time, his eyes narrowed. Finally, he huffs, slumping back in his seat. His resignation is a relief, and you breathe a small sigh.

"I have to ask," you begin, eager to change the subject, "what was the point of that little display?"

He raises a brow, glancing over at you. "Display?"

"With Hunter," you elaborate, "back there. I assume it wasn't just to annoy me."

He smirks, the corner of his lips curling upward. He tilts his head, and you try not to think about how it's the first time he's looked at you that way since everything happened.

"I was mostly doing it to annoy you."

"Of course you were." You roll your eyes. You don't believe him, not entirely, but you didn't doubt that he wanted to get under your skin. It felt like that was all he'd done since the beginning, and it was getting tiresome.

"But," he begins, leaning back, "if I can't talk you out of doing this, the least I can do is make sure you have backup."

You stare at him, unsure of how to respond. Your mouth opens, then closes, and you blink several times. What were you supposed to say to that?

"That's... sweet, I guess?" You don't mean for it to come out as a question, but the surprise gets the best of you.

He rolls his eyes and shrugs, and you're reminded of the old Crosshair.

The Crosshair who used to tease you, to rile you up, just because he knew it would make you laugh. The Crosshair who would sit with you while you studied, who would make you food when you were too tired to do it yourself. The one who loved his brothers fiercely, even if he was a pain in the ass. The one that you, despite everything, missed.

You didn't think he was capable of being like that anymore, but here he was, proving you wrong.

"Well," he says, shifting uncomfortably, "It’s my job to keep an eye on you."

You can't help but chuckle at his reasoning, though there's a hint of bitterness to the sound, and his scowl returns.

"It's not funny."

"Oh, come on," you reply, crossing your arms, still laughing. "It's a little funny."

"Is not," he argues, but there's no heat to it.

You snicker, shaking your head. It's not funny, but it's nice. Normal, even. It's the most normal conversation you've had in a long time, and the most normal Crosshair has acted, and it's almost like things are the way they were before.

"Whatever you say, dear."

The pet name slips out without a thought, and you regret it the second it does. You wince, looking over at him. You hope he doesn't take it the wrong way, but he doesn't seem to notice. He just scoffs, a small smile playing on his lips.

You relax in your chair, letting the tension slip from your body. You'd almost forgotten what it was like, how easy things used to be. It felt good, and you wished you could keep that feeling.

"So," you begin, "are you going to be a good boy while we're there, or am I going to have to watch my back?"

"I'm always a good boy," he replies, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You can't help but laugh, and his lips twitch upward, a hint of smugness coloring his features. It's an old joke, and it's ridiculous, but it feels good. You didn't think he had it in him, and hearing his sarcasm again was a welcome surprise.

"We both know that's not true."

"You'd be surprised." He stands, stretching his arms over his head. When he lowers them, he looks at you again, a faint smirk on his lips. "I can be very good, when I want to be.”

He brushes his fingers across your shoulder as he walks past, and the simple touch sends a shiver down your spine. You can't help the heat that rises to your face, and you're thankful that he's turned away from you.

You're left in a daze, your mind racing. You didn't think he was capable of having a civil conversation with you, let alone flirting. And yet here you were, trying desperately not to think about the implications behind his words.

It reminded you of before, before everything had gone to shit. Back when he could make you laugh in just a few words and make you blush with even less. He’d tease and flirt and push all your buttons, and it drove you crazy.

And you loved it.

You thought maybe you loved him too, at some point.

But he had thrown all that away when he abandoned the team. He had tossed aside every moment of laughter and affection and friendship, and he'd never seemed to care. And maybe that's what hurt the most, knowing he'd so easily let go of whatever it was between the two of you.

You'd tried not to think about him, after he left. You'd thrown yourself into the missions, and you'd tried not to look back. The others had done the same, you thought, but when Crosshair came back into your lives, they had forgiven him.

So why was it so hard for you?

The answer was supposed to be easy. You’d been the one he’d tried to kill, after all. But you knew it wasn’t his fault, knew it was the chip. You wanted to forgive him, and in a way, you had, but it still hurt.

Maybe it was because he had hurt you, not physically, but in another way. A deeper way. He had left you. He had abandoned the team, and he had left you behind, and despite ample opportunities, he'd refused to come back.

Or maybe it was because, after all that, after he'd hurt you and the people you cared about, you still couldn't bring yourself to hate him.

Maybe, deep down, you were worried that part of you still loved him.

Your head was spinning. You needed a drink, or a nap, or a distraction.

"Where are you going?" you call after him.

"To make sure Omega didn't sneak aboard," he calls back.

You can’t help but smile, shaking your head. He'd never admit it, but he cared about her. He'd probably deny it to his dying breath, if asked, but you knew better. And as you watch him disappear down the hall, a strange feeling blooms in your chest.

It's warm, and light, and familiar.

And for a brief moment, things almost feel right again.

Crosshair is, for lack of a better word, insufferable. He doesn't listen to a word you say, doesn't follow your directions, and has a bad habit of doing the opposite of what you tell him to do.

He also has a knack for making you feel like an idiot. It was something you conveniently forgotten about during your time apart, and now, you were beginning to remember why you'd fought so much in the past.

And the worst part was, he wasn't even trying to piss you off.

He was just...himself.

"That's not how it's done," he sneers, leaning against the wall. His eyes are on your hands, watching you clean your blaster. You know this game, and you don't want to play. So you do the one thing that always seems to get under his skin.

You ignore him.

You pretend like you haven't heard him, and you continue with your task. You can feel his eyes on you, but you don't look up. He sighs and huffs as you wipe around the trigger mechanism, he crosses his arms as you check the power cell, and you know he's getting antsy.

It isn't until you wet a swatch with solvent and push it through the barrel from front to back, and Crosshair makes a noise of disgust, that you snap.

"What?" you bark, your grip on the weapon tightening. You're not angry, not yet, but you can feel it creeping up on you.

“You’re going to damage the rifling,” he says, pushing off the wall. He reaches for the weapon, but you pull it out of his reach.

"I know what I'm doing."

"Clearly." He rolls his eyes. “If you keep doing that, you’re going to to end up with a misfire or a malfunction, and I don’t think either of us want that. Do you?"

You know he's right, but you don't want to admit it. "No, but—"

"Then give me the damn blaster," he says, reaching out again.

You consider refusing, just to prove a point, but his tone has caught you off guard. He doesn't sound condescending, or mocking, or even annoyed.

He sounds worried.

So you hand it over, and he takes it, his fingers brushing against yours.

"Just let me do it, alright?" he asks, and the frustration in his voice is gone, replaced by something softer.

You nod, watching as he sits next to you, his attention on the weapon. His movements are confident, practiced, and you can't help but notice the way his fingers move as he cleans.

You watch as he sets the blaster aside, grabbing the canister of solvent and a rag. Crosshair's movements are quick and meticulous, and he doesn't miss a spot. What took you nearly twenty minutes to accomplish, he completes in five, and his technique is far more thorough than yours.

“It’s a miracle you haven’t blown your hand off yet," he says, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye. “If this is what the Jedi were teaching you, no wonder the Empire wiped them out."

Any good will you were feeling toward him disappears in an instant. You bristle, your anger returning, and you glare at him.

"Fuck you."

"Maybe later," he teases, his lips twitching upwards.

You can't decide if his comment was meant to piss you off or annoy you, and you settle for a combination of the two. You're not sure why you expected anything else from him, but the joke hits a sore spot. The fact that he doesn't realize what he's said, that he doesn't understand what he's done, only makes it worse.

Crosshair's smile falls when you continue glaring despite the flush in your cheeks, and you can sense his frustration. He huffs, looking back down at the weapon in his hands.

He's quiet for a long time, his brow furrowed. Finally, he breaks the silence, his voice soft.

"Here," he says, holding the reassembled blaster out, its barrel glistening. It’s the cleanest it's been in months, though you won’t admit it out loud.

Crosshair had always taken great pride in the cleanliness and efficiency of his weapons, and seeing his handiwork in front of you reminds you of simpler times. You’d lost count of the amount of times you’d passed out from exhaustion after a mission or gotten too distracted, only to find your weapons cleaned and ready to go the next morning.

It had irritated you, at first. You hated having your things touched without permission, but eventually, you got used to it. It was nice, knowing he cared enough about you to do such a thing. Though Crosshair always denied it when you tried to thank him. As if it would be anyone other than him.

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and it’s genuine.

He looks at you, and there's a flash of something in his eyes, something softer than the usual indifference. But it's gone before you can decipher its meaning.

“Why do you still use that thing, anyway?" he asks. “It's a piece of junk. Don’t you have a lightsaber?”

You suck in a breath, his words cutting deep. Of course he would bring up the one thing you didn't want to talk about. You should have expected it. You weren't sure why it had never come up, but you should have known it would happen eventually.

He's staring at the blaster, and you know he didn't mean to hurt you, not this time, but the ache is there, nonetheless. The grief sinks in your stomach like a stone, heavy and cold, and your hands shake. You clench them into fists, hoping to hide the movement.

You've gone quiet for too long, and Crosshair knows he's hit a nerve. He turns his attention to you, and his eyes widen when he sees the look on your face.

You're pale, your expression pained. Your mouth is a thin line, your jaw set, and your shoulders are stiff. “No,” you say, your voice quiet. “Not anymore.”

He frowns. He looks confused, and for a second, he almost looks worried. "What happened?"

“I lost it.”

“What?" His voice sounds incredulous, as if the concept is inconceivable. "When?”

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the tears. You'd promised yourself you'd never cry over this again, but it was proving to be more difficult than you'd thought. It hurts, talking about it, and a part of you wants to shut him out.

But another, bigger, part of you wants him to know. Maybe it's a test, of sorts. If he can't handle this, if he doesn't want to hear the truth, then there's no way he'd be able to handle the rest.

“On Kamino," you say, and your voice shakes, despite your best efforts. You pause, taking a deep breath. You close your eyes, and the memories come back, clear as day. "Around the same time I…”

You can’t continue, but the words are there, lingering in the air. The same time I lost you.

His mouth forms a silent 'oh', and the room falls silent. You look at the floor, avoiding his eyes, and he does the same. You're not sure how much time passes, but it feels like hours.

He clears his throat, and the sound breaks the spell. You look up, and his eyes are on you, intense and dark. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, and the apology surprises you.

"Don't be." You shrug, but you can't shake the melancholy that's settled over the room.

"You should get a new one," he suggests.

You shake your head. “It wouldn’t be the same.”

Crosshair hums, and he turns away from you. He picks up the cleaning kit and places it back on the shelf. You watch him, wondering if that's the end of the conversation, and a part of you hopes it is.

But when he turns to face you again, his expression is pensive, and his tone is somber.

He sighs, and the weight of his words hit you, his voice quiet.

“You’re not the same, either."

You swallow thickly, unsure how to respond. You’ve had the same thought rolling around in your head for months, but to hear it spoken out loud, to hear it from him, suddenly makes it seem real.

Because he's right.

You aren't the same, not anymore. You hadn't been since the fall of the Order, since Crosshair left, since you'd lost everything. And you couldn't deny the changes that had been wrought within you, no matter how hard you tried.

"Yeah," you say, and the word is heavy on your tongue. “I guess not.”

You stare at each other, and a moment passes. It's an unspoken understanding, an admission, and neither of you can find the right words.

It's then that you realize that maybe he's changed, too.

And that, for whatever reason, makes you sad.

The silence drags on, and you're not sure if he's waiting for you to speak, or if he's waiting for something else. His eyes are searching, his mouth slightly parted, and he looks almost nervous.

Your heart pounds in your chest, and there's a pressure behind your eyes. You want to say something, but you can't think of anything. You're not sure if the urge is to comfort him, or comfort yourself.

You're grateful when you can feel the the hair on the back of your next prickle, a sign of something shifting in the Force. It's a distraction, a welcome one, and you take the opportunity to break eye contact. You stand to make your way to the cockpit, holstering your blaster as you go.

When you reach the door, you pause, glancing back. Crosshair is still standing in the middle of the room, his head tilted in your direction. His eyes are fixed on you, and he looks almost sad.

You swallow thickly and force yourself to speak. “We should be there in a second."

“How do you—“

He’s interrupted by the subtle lurch of the ship dropping out of hyperspace, and his confused expression turns to one of exasperation.

You smile, just a little, and Crosshair scoffs.

"Show off," he mutters, following behind you.

#tbb crosshair #crosshair x reader #the bad batch #tbb crosshair x reader #the bad batch crosshair #clone x reader #the bad batch x reader #roy writes

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charliedawn · 2 years ago

Text

How would they react if you kissed their scars ?

Vincent had remained with the mask for so long, it had become part of your everyday life.

You had never questioned it...not until you walked into his bedroom one day and found that Vincent had not yet put on his mask.

He hadn't heard you come in—too focused on his latest piece of art.

So, you made sure not to disturb him as you looked at his new 'piece'.

You shivered. You really didn't want to be thinking about the poor guy trapped underneath the wax.

So, you focused back on Vincent instead.

The bad part of his face was not completely facing you, but you could make out the disfigured part he wanted to hide...It broke your heart.

"...Vinny ?"

You called him and Vincent's eyes widened in shock at the sight of you and he hurried to reach for his mask, but you were quicker.

You grabbed the mask and took a couple of steps back.

Vincent didn't understand what you were doing until you placed a soft kiss on the interior of the mask and finally put it back on him.

He let you and his breath hitched as he saw the genuine smile on your face.

"You're very handsome...Don't let the mask fool anyone."

He was stunned.

Truth was, Vincent had worn this mask all his life and had never thought for a second that anyone would call him 'handsome' in his life.

It brought tears to his eyes as he suddenly hugged you and buried his face in the crook of your neck.

His new piece of art left unattended as he asked you to kiss that part of his face again and again...his mask slipping off in the process.

But, he was too happy to care.

Now, Jason is the insecurity boy.

He hates that he's tall, hates his face, hates his clumsiness...

But, whenever he would be with you, his insecurities seemed to wither into nothingness.

He still had problems with leaving the mask behind though. People used to call him awful things and even though he had partially healed with time, the pain was still there.

So, when you walked in when he was getting ready—he almost fell backwards and covered his face with his hands.

"LEAVE ! GET BACK !"

He was afraid and screamed when you tried to touch him—only for you to fight against every single survival instinct in your body and hug him tightly.

"...Ssh...It's alright. You don't need to be afraid. I love you. Your face doesn't change that."

Jason was shocked at your words and he gripped the fabric of your shirt tightly to hide his face and not let you see him cry.

He held you like you were his only lifeline, and maybe you were.

Now, Bo is a whole other story.

He doesn't like physical affection.

But, you still wanted to show him that you loved him.

So, as he was working on a car, you asked for a tool. He was so focused on his task, he absent-mindedly obeyed and just gave you one of his tools to keep you happy—not expecting you to take his hand instead.

You stroked the damage skin on his wrist and looked up at Bo who seemed uncharacteristically quiet, no longer focused on the car.

You then pressed your lips to the scars around his wrists and his eyes followed your movement with baited breath.

He suddenly retrieved his hand, as if burnt by the sensation alone.

"What in the carnation do ya think you're doin' ?!"

But you didn't answer.

You only shook your head and grabbed his arm gently to bring it back to your lips.

You peppered it with kisses and Bo licked his dry lips before smiling and closing the gap between the both of you to kiss your forehead.

"...You' really sumthin', ain't ya sugar ?"

In response, you stuck out your tongue cheekily at him and smiled.

However, you didn't expect it when Bo mimicked you and the tip of your tongue touched his.

You took a step back and flushed red as he tipped his hat at you.

"Well, now that we've shared our DNA, I'll go prepare dinner.", he announced before turning away to leave.

"GROSS, BO !", you finally shouted after him—but a small hidden smile tugged at the corner of your lips.

He laughed.

"Yeh yeh. You'll live."

He then hurried out of the house—ignoring the way you tried to call him back.

His own face felt hot and he hurried outside.

~That was dangerous. He almost lost control.

Brahms loved it when you took care of him, he had found a comfortable daily routine with you.

But, of course...You had to become curious.

You waited until he was asleep before slowly creeping into his bedroom to try to remove his mask.

You smiled as you saw his peaceful sleeping face and couldn't resist laying a kiss on his masked cheek.

You then hesitated about your plan. Would he be mad if you took a quick look ?

However, before you could think about it any further, Brahms grabbed your hand and yanked you forward into his arms.

You let out an undignified surprised yelp.

His breath was shallow and you felt so ashamed of having been caught, but he then quickly whispered in your ear.

"Brahms...Likes Y/N...Don't want them to be...afraid..."

Your heart squeezed as you wrapped your arms around him and smiled.

"Brahms has nothing to be afraid of. Y/N will stay with him. Because Y/N loves Brahms."

Brahms' eyes widened at the use of the l-word and his grip on you tightened as he let you take off the mask.

You were speechless for a second and Brahms thought it was because you were horrified and immediately tried to reach for his mask, but you shook your head and threw his mask away.

"...Pretty.", you muttered and kissed his burnt side with tenderness.

His eyes watered and he held you infinitely closer.

He never wanted to let you go.

His mother had called him pretty only once in his life, and he remembered feeling so much happiness from the word alone.

It made him happy and sad at the same time.

Because, it also reminded him of the burns on his face and the fact that his face would never be the same again.

You would never see how pretty he looked back then. You would never see the face he wanted you to see...But, you still found him pretty.

And that made Brahms feel as if you had sown a part of his heart back into place.

Freddy. Freddy doesn't have insecurities. What he does have however is a painful fear of rejection and a huge ego clashing in an eternal battle for dominance.

His ego as the big scary demon and his fear of who he used to be...

He hates his reflection. He would never admit it to you, but you noticed the way he constantly avoided mirrors.

"...Ain't you gonna try to escape ?", he finally asked one day—hiding the true depth of the reason behind the question.

He wanted you to answer yes, so he could completely be overwhelmed by the demon and be done with it.

Freddy used to be a scrawny little nuisance—just good enough for manual work.

He had never been a great scholar, barely made it to high school.

Freddy—the pushover—that's what people used to call him...Well, until he killed them all.

"Nah. Have you seen me running...?", you answered with a small playful grin...But, it didn't work. He frowned and let out a small huff.

"Come on. Don't go all witty on me. Give me a real answer."

You tilted your head quizzically at him. Why the sudden need for an answer ?

He didn't dare look at you in the eye and that's when you understood. Freddy was doing the most Freddy thing.

He was testing you.

He wanted to know if you really stayed because you liked him, or because he was just another mere distraction.

"I'm telling you that I have no intention to run."

You finally told him the truth and Freddy's eyes widened as he crouched in front of you and stared at you—his claws gleaming in the dark.

"Don't you dare lie to me."

"You don't believe me ?"

"Ya just saying stuff...To make me happy.", he muttered under his breath and you gasped at the accusation. That's when you cupped his face and forced him to look you in the eyes again.

"I would never lie to you."

You then kissed him on the lips and his eyes widened at the unexpected action.

"...Here. Is it enough proof for you ?", you asked with a knowing grin and Freddy felt stunned for a second before he chuckled.

"~Maybe.", he smirked and then pulled you closer to him. "Gonna have to get more proof. Just to be sure."

You snorted.

"~Of course."

"Say Myers...Can I see you without the mask ?"

His...mask ? What a strange request...

Now, why would you ask that ?

He tilted his head at you—pondering.

His confusion must have shown as you answered his silent question.

"Well...Every time I see you without it, Michael takes over and I'd like to see you without it."

Myers didn't move for a second and you thought you had offended him or something...But, he then decided to trust you and removed the mask.

You were immediately drawn to his two green eyes that seemed to be boring into the depth of your very soul.

He was handsome, even though a few scars here and there from years of surviving.

You raised yourself on your tiptoes and you saw the momentary panic in his eyes.

He wanted to look away or hide away from your gaze—but couldn't. He only kept staring while you continued examining his features.

You looked each other in the eyes and then, an inexplicable impulse took over you.

You kissed his chin and smiled when you felt him holding you a little closer than necessary—his eyes squeezing shut.

It felt...good.

His beard tickled your face, but you didn't mind. You giggled and hugged him back.

Myers wouldn't cry, but he did feel the need to talk—him who usually never did.

He opened his mouth to say something, but you beat him to it.

"Well ? Aren't you going to return my kiss ?"

You then tapped the side of your face with a small playful smile and Myers couldn't help but smile back.

However, you didn't expect it when he suddenly leaned forward to kiss you on the lips, securing the back of your head with his large hand.

It made you feel safe for a second before he pulled away—all too soon.

He then put back his mask and even though you couldn't see it, you knew he was smiling underneath.

#fandoms #imagine #fanfic #brahms heelsire x reader #jason voorhees x reader #freddy krueger x reader #michael myers x reader #bo sinclair x reader #vincent sinclair x reader #slashers au #slashers

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xxlady-lunaxx · 6 months ago

Text

Live for us | {SaneObaGiyuu}

Theme: Angst+fluff+angst!

Note: TW's!! self harm, suicide, self degradation, blah blah, ok you get it

they're already dating and tanji doesn't exist <3

×××

There was a thing about life that made it so unappealing. Several things, actually. But for one, you don't even make it out alive. What's the point? What do you live for if you're just going to die in a couple years? You don't even know if you'll make it past tomorrow. So what's the point?

The fact stood, however, that if Giyuu died, he would no longer see Sanemi and Obanai anymore. Which seemed to be the sole reason he was alive. He didn't even know if he should keep living for them. He was a nuisance anyway. He would only bother them and they were better off alone. He wondered, often, if they would notice if he died.

Though they did seem to notice other things. Like if he was quieter than usual—which was saying something, considering he was often quiet—or if he hadn't been eating. His eating problems weren't like Obanai's. They were selfish—Obanai's made sense.

Giyuu didn't eat because he hoped he would starve to death. He would waste Sanemi's carefully made food just because he wasn't happy. He was stupid.

He was so sure that Sanemi and Obanai were quite done with him. He figured that if they weren't so nice, they would've dropped his ass immediately. He had forced them into the relationship anyhow, right? He'd forced himself into theirs. Somehow, for some reason, they had let him. They acted as if they loved him—but did they really?

Sometimes, when he watched them, he could imagine that they would be perfectly fine without him. Smiling and laughing. They looked good together. They were better off without his presence. He was nothing but a river between to pieces of land, pushing them apart. He only ruined things.

They insisted, for his sake, that he wasn't annoying. They said they loved him. They said they cared. But they couldn't truly, right? Shinobu had said it herself—nobody liked him. Nobody wanted to be his friend, much less his boyfriend. So how had he gotten two boyfriends? Simple. They were too kind to let him down. They probably figured he would cry like a fucking baby and follow them like a stupid child if they rejected him. He would. He probably would.

That was the worst of it. He knew why they hated him. But he couldn't let himself to accept it. Or, at least, leave them be. He stuck to them like glue, unwilling to leave their side. You see, they were the only people who could make him feel, even just for a split second, that he might possibly want to live. That he might be worth it. That life might be worth it. Just for a minute. And it was the most selfish thing he ever let himself keep. He refused to be selfish, typically, but he needed it. Wanted it. He longed for it. Yearned for it to last. A little longer. A minute more.

×××

Sanemi knew what it looked like when someone hurt themself deliberately. He would know. He used to do it. But that was in the past. He hadn't given it much of a thought again after months—years—passed. He began to feel content again and mostly forgot that he'd ever had an episode like that.

Obanai and Giyuu were his absolute pride and joy—and Genya, though he would never admit it to anyone. They made him feel as if he could lead a somewhat normal life, or at least die a content death. So he went along with his life just fine for a while. Until Giyuu stumbled into his house, face pale and arms slack.

For a moment, he got a sense of déjà vu. He didn't understand it at first and simply picked up Giyuu, asking if he was alright. Then it hit him.

The first time he had purposefully harmed himself, he hadn't been sure what was wrong with him. It was when Masachika was alive. Sanemi hadn't slept well that day and had awoken with a surge of guilt and pain. He didn't understand himself. He had grabbed his katana and numbly drew it down his own body, watching blood spill from the wounds. The blade had been sharp. And he had pressed much too hard. But the pain felt relieving, as if feeling some pain would make up for the loss of his family, his siblings he'd been unable to protect. It soothed his mind. But then Masachika had entered the room.

The katana had dropped and suddenly his wounds stung in a million other ways and he no longer felt the momentary comfort from them. He cried out, standing. He had wobbled towards Masachika, unsure what he was doing. He was sure, now, that he must've looked exactly as Giyuu did now. Collapsing into Masachika's arms, molded by the concern lacing his friend's gaze.

He must've looked the same. Pale and shaky. Wondering what the hell had he done.

Sanemi tugged Giyuu's sleeves up. When he had done it, it had been all over his body. His legs, his arms, his chest. But he had caught a glint of bandages from under Giyuu's haori sleeve. It hadn't been there earlier and he hadn't gone on any missions since they had last met.

The bandages were stained red. It was only one arm, but it was still one arm. It was still there.

He scooped Giyuu up, taking him to his room. He placed him down on the futon, ordering him to stay there before shouting at his crow to go find Obanai and scouring his bathroom for towels and bandages.

When Obanai had arrived, they had mopped up Giyuu's arm, putting light pressure on the wounds as they dabbed the blood with the towel. The bandages were wrapped around his arm and then they pulled him under the covers of the bed, quiet. They stole worried glances, holding Giyuu in a tight embrace.

After Giyuu had fallen asleep, they had spoken to one another in hushed tones for hours. They hadn't known that Giyuu had been unhappy to the point he would do something like this. And Sanemi feared it wasn't a one-time thing. That it was worse. That it would spread.

Obanai suggested they spoke to Giyuu about it. He said that they would have to help him, somehow. To make him have something to live for, maybe.

When they talked to Giyuu, the following day, over this matter, he had brushed it off.

"I'm alright," he had said. "I was just feeling bad yesterday."

Neither believed him. Giyuu had never been the best at lying. He hadn't suddenly gotten the talent to.

They ended up dragging him back to Sanemi's house for another cuddle session. This time, however, they involved Giyuu in the talking. The conversation went back and forth time after time, constantly revolving back to the fact that Sanemi and Obanai loved him dearly and then Giyuu denying it and assuming they didn't.

In the end, however, they were satisfied with the results. Giyuu ended up contently snuggling into their hugs and finally giving up with his argument. he seemed a bit happier after the talk and Sanemi and Obanai relaxed slightly.

Of course, they of all people should've known to never let their guard down. But it's only human to forget every now and then. Even when it comes at the worst times possible.

×××

It would've been a lie to say that Giyuu hadn't felt better after his boyfriends told him how much they loved him for an hour straight. But it would've also been a lie to say that it helped him on the long run. See, it made him feel better for about two hours after the talk. Roughly. And then his mind ran wild.

They must've been telling him that to make him stop being a burden to them. So they would stop having to help him. They probably felt pressured to do it. Yes, that was it. They didn't love him as much as they said they did. Words were empty, right? Promises didn't save Tsutako's life. Neither did they mean much when they told him "I love you." They didn't love him. They shouldn't. They wouldn't. Who would love him anyway? It was illogical. Unlikely. Stupid.

The thoughts molded his mind. They made up his thoughts. They made him want to curl up in a ball and cry. And maybe get dehydrated from that and die. Then in that moment he made a decision. It wasn't a sober one. He wasn't in the right mind. But it was far too late to stop him.

He was being ludicrous. Of course they didn't love him! Of course they wanted him out of their sight right away! Why would they care about him? There was nothing appealing about Giyuu; he was quiet and stubborn and annoying. He was nothing but another person to worry about because he was too childish and careless to take care of himself. So he was better off gone. Out of their lives.

His hand was on his katana, pulling it out of his sheathe. Then the blade was at his throat. He felt nothing more.

×××

It came, as would be expected from anyone but Giyuu, a shock. At first, the Hashira were confused. Was this a joke? It was the middle of the day. What had happened to Giyuu? How had he died? And then one word fell upon their ears and they were stiffened with shock.

"Suicide."

The news reached Sanemi and Obanai first—who were on their way to Giyuu's house to hopefully spend some time together. They had been making their way idly to his house, talking lightheartedly. Then a crow swooped by. Was that Kanzaburou?

The word of Giyuu's death that he'd inflicted upon himself had barely left the bird's beak before the two had dropped their food—which they'd had to maybe convince Giyuu to eat lunch with them—and rushed to his house. The door was broken open—there was no use knocking.

The house was eerily silent for the middle of the day. Their footsteps, though loud, and their calls of his name didn't fill in the quiet that had befallen over the house. They stopped dead at his bedroom door, eyes wide but face otherwise slack with shock. Giyuu's body was slumped down, his head deattached from his body. His katana was held loosely in his hand, blood dotted vaguely on the blade. He was dead.

First came the shock. The processing. Then panic surged both Hashira forward and they stumbled towards his body, kneeling by his side. There was no hope on saving him. There couldn't be.

They searched the room. Had there been something to trigger him? No. What was it? Had they not done enough? Had they made it worse? What had happened? What the hell had fucking happened?

The news rippled through the Hashira. A death like this, though not uncommon for Demon Slayers, was the first amongst the Hashira in decades. Because of that, several Hashira were at Giyuu's house within minutes of getting the occurance. They found Sanemi and Obanai bent over Giyuu's body, clutching each other and shaking. Tears didn't seem to be coming out but silent screams rendered them useless as Tengen slowly pulled Giyuu from under them, wrapping him in a blanket to be buried.

Neither Sanemi nor Obanai knew what had happened. But both blamed themself. And the cycle began.

×××

« Word count: 1921 »

sun is shining, birds are singing, nice day to write angst!

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blueberrymocha · 1 month ago

Text

comforting you⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

┌──────────────────────────────────────┐

╰┈➤ fluff

➣ characters: gon, killua, kurapika, leorio, hisoka, illumi, chrollo

➣ word count: 608

└──────────────────────────────────────┘

gon

- honestly, he's such a ray of sunshine that his presence alone would cheer you up

- a lot more understanding than you'd think, being rather emotional himself at times

- would try and distract you from whatever made you upset

- is big on touch, so expect a tight hug or pat on the head

- giving advice, however, is not his strong suit

- plus he doesn't want you to keep dwelling on it, so if you wanted to talk in detail, he's not the guy you're looking for

✎.

killua

- he has no clue what to do

- should he ask what's wrong? but what if you don't want to talk about it...

- should he hug you? but what if you don't want to be touched...

- so he'd end up going back and forth with himself unless you told him what you needed

- which he'll do whatever you want, because seeing you upset makes him pretty miserable

- if you stay silent, he'll just sit down with you and be there

- afterwards, he'd propose a chill night where you just huddle under blankets while making fun of some stupid show

✎.

kurapika

- gonna be brutally honest; he's not very invested in your problems

- part of him loves that you're coming to him with it, but the other part has enough to worry about

- so unless it's something huge that you're upset over, he'll calm you down and then go back to whatever he was doing

- but that doesn't mean he won't stay with you until you're better

- would draw circles on your back or give you a quick massage

- if you wanted his opinion, he'd give it

- might hurt your feelings with his bluntness so he'd probably stay quiet otherwise

✎.

leorio

- sits down with you to have a drawn out conversation about it

- he wants to know every detail from your perspective

- and he's always on your side, even if you were partially in the wrong

- doesn't immediately touch you

- physical comfort isn't really his style

- but if you initiated it, he'd capture you in a big hug, letting you stay there as long as you wanted

- offers to order takeout and de-stress the rest of the night

✎.

hisoka

- he wouldn't take it seriously unless you were really upset

- otherwise, he'll simply tease and sit with you

- but like always, when he sees you're not amused, he'll ask what happened

- then pour you a drink and reassure you not to worry about it

- he's a little freaky so he might suggest a shower together to "get your mind off of it"

- if you decline, he'll just shrug and pat your head

- he really isn't one to leave your company after making the effort to see you, so i don't think he'd dip or anything

- instead, his focus is on improving your mood

✎.

illumi

- is more lost than killua

- it’s his natural reaction to tell you to stop; that you’re showing weakness

- but start crying and his instincts will kick in, because for a reason he doesn't understand, he hates seeing you cry

- at most he’d shush you and awkwardly cup your head

- but to you, it’s the fact he’s being gentle at all that makes a huge difference

- eventually, he’ll ask;

“feeling better?”

- gets a wave of relief once you answer yes

✎.

chrollo

- is immediately concerned over you

“hey, hey.. what’s wrong?”

- sits with you and rubs a hand over your back soothingly

- would let you vent to him for hours

- just nodding and humming so you know he’s listening

- drops whatever he’s doing, and if you bring it up, ‘it’s not important anymore’

- just be careful of who you mention in your story

- because if he finds out someone made you upset.. we know the rest

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restinslices · 11 months ago

Note

How’d you think the Lin Kuei boys show their affection to their partner?

It’s kinda short but irl I’m actually so bad at affection, it’s stupid. They all have around 300 words👍🏾

Bi-Han

I feel like as the Grandmaster and having so many responsibilities, he'd appreciate someone who does things for him. So his way of showing affection is to do the same for them

Handling chores, leaving you bowls of fruit, cooking for when you return, stuff like that.

I don't think he's the type to say “I love you much” either. Words are cheap. Actions show you how much someone truly cares

If you're a fighter, he'd also show affection by tending to you if you're harmed and checking in from time to time

Also sparring. This may not seem like something affectionate but in his mind, him sparring with you shows he cares about you enough to try and sharpen your skills. It means he cares about your safety.

Affection to him can be somewhat uncomfortable, so don't expect him to do huge grand gestures. His version of love is more quiet and private. Honestly you wouldn't be wrong if you felt a bit neglected

Neglecting you wouldn't be on purpose though. He just feels that certain things are unnecessary. Constantly touching, being near each other, whispering sweet things, and all that other type of shit just isn't his vibe. It's unnecessary and it seems like it's more for showing other people you love your partner than actually loving them (his thoughts. I know y'all like to tussle)

You'd have to ask him to do those things if you're into it. Doesn't mean he'll be good at it though

Since he's such a combat heavy, “I don't want peace, I want PROBLEMS ALWAYS” type of guy I can see him also showing affection by giving you things to improve your combat

He'd give you weapons that he knows you specialize in. Like, if you're someone who uses a spear, he'd go out of his way to get you a new one.

His version of affection is subtle but it's definitely there.

Kuai Liang

Kuai Liang is definitely more comfortable when it comes to affection

I can see him also giving you gifts for combat. Bi-Han gives you things you specialize in, but Kuai Liang is the type to give some of his weapons

Kuai Liang is gone a lot so I think he'd show affection by giving you things that belong to him so you'll have something to remember him, and you can give him something of yours

I can see him giving gifts in general to make up for his absence in your relationship. He wouldn't just throw gifts at you though. It'd be gifts he specifically knows you'd enjoy

Kuai Liang pays lots of attention to you so anything he gives you would be perfect. You wouldn't have to worry about having to fake being happy because he pays too much attention to give you smth shitty

Memorizes very small details about you too. Does this count as affection? Depends on who you ask.

He's also more comfortable with being physical so I can see him touching you a lot. No I don't mean sexually. I'd never write such a thing and y'all have no proof 🙄

In all seriousness, I think he enjoys casual physical touch. The type to randomly put a hand on your shoulder or place his hand on your thigh

Compliments you a lot also. Lots of skill based compliments

Compliments you on your fighting or hobbies you're improving in.

I feel like his version of affection is very stereotypical, ya know? The hand holding, the walking alone, the various compliments, shit people think of when they think of a relationship

I do however think he'd prefer some stuff to be in private. Everyone doesn't need to see you two do everything if that makes sense

You'd feel very loved with him though

He really gives me the vibes of a stereotypical loving husband. He's grown. Life is short. Why wouldn't he show you how much he cares?

Tomas Vrbada

I think his version of affection would be lots and lots of quality time

He legit wants to do everything with you. Not in a toxic and obsessive way. He just enjoys your company

He'd probably worry he's being annoying but when he's reassured that it's ok, he's on your heels

I think he'd enjoy making things with you. Could be jewelry. Could be cooking. Could be baking. As long as it's something together and you can share it, he enjoys it

He's probably fine with public affection too as long as it's not extremely intense. Don't try to stick your tongue down his throat in public. Have some decorum.

I can also see him being so in love with someone that he talks about them often. So much so, word would end up getting back to you that he just won't shut the fuck up

I think he'd be ok with physical touch. I can see him being cool with hanging out and cuddling. It'd be such a change of pace compared to the usual hostile and combat filled life he lives

He really enjoys your presence and being around someone who's peaceful and doesn't have unnecessarily high expectations of him

Back to what I said earlier about cooking, I think that would be his favorite thing to do with you. Food can bring people together and inviting you to cook or bake with him brings you two closer. He'd probably let you pick what to make too.

I can see him doing corny shit too if you asked. Like if you said “hey can you write me a love letter even though we're sitting right next to each other?”, he'd probably say “umm, sure”.

I just think he'd really enjoy having a person that was just for him and it'd be very very clear

Similar mindset to Kuai Liang in terms of “why wouldn’t I show my partner affection when I can die at any point?”

I tried to use different gifs than usual but I probably did not😀

#mk1 #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat 1 #bi han sub zero #bi han #kuai liang mk1 #kuai liang scorpion #tomas vrbada smoke #tomas vrbada #kuai liang headcanons #kuai liang #bi han mk #bi han headcanons #bi han x reader #kuai liang x reader #mk1 tomas vrbada #tomas vrbada headcanons #tomas vrbada x reader #mk1 smoke

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thefatedthoughtofyou · 6 months ago

Text

Was having some thoughts about Steve joining Hellfire. They are as follows.

I'm thinking maybe they start him off with smaller weekly oneshots. Unbeknownst to Steve they are also still meeting for their regular other campaign, he figures that out later. That Eddie's been writing one shots for him on top of his other bonkers story he's got going and Steve is like "oh 🥺".

BUTTT! during the one shots, all the kids have their moments of being RUDE to Steve. Mike is the worst (cuz I dislike him and his fucking attitude). But everytime one of them is rude to Steve, and it's like legit mean stuff, like them calling him stupid. Things like that. Steve usually kinda gets quiet. And then, whenever the kids do that, Eddie starts making notes in his notebook. Then whoever said the mean thing, their characters die.

Like, Mike gets the worst of it cuz he's just such an ass. But Eddie's got a SYSTEM in these notes okay!!! There are straight tallys, for actually hurtful mean things, there are wiggly tallys for things he can tell are meant to be teasing but that he can tell definitely still kinda hurt Steve a bit. And then there are stars. People get stars for helping Steve along the way.

Be that helping his characters, or just helping him with his math or helping him understand something about the game when Eddie is busy or "distracted". Cuz he legit always notices when people help Steve. Most of the time it's cuz he hears Steve's genuine thank yous. Lucas, and surprisingly Erica, have the most stars, aside from El. Max gets stars sometimes just for back talking Mike's rudes comments with shit like,

"mike what does it matter? we're all about to die anyway. That sphinx is gonna fucking eat us. Who cares. Leave him alone."

Because her and El have of course been invited too. But they've been playing just a LITTLE bit longer so they know a small amount more. El only has stars because she is legit always helpful. Steve has taken to sitting between El and Erica because they're the nicest to him. Lucas usually sits across from him.

Dustin has lots of wiggly tallys cuz he just can't control his mouth sometimes. But one day Mike gets brutally killed again and starts whining about it and Steve has noticed Eddie making little notes. Has no idea what they are. Cuz he doesn't look through other people's notebooks. Thats rude.

Everyone has noticed the notes. No one has asked. They all have theories. And when Eddie is like,

"I'm trying to teach you a lesson. Not my fault you aren't smart enough to figure out what it is." And his voice has such a BITCHY tone when he says it. Because Mike had JUST been hounding Steve for missing "obvious" clues and not being smart enough to figure it out and walking into a trap.

And steve had gone red from his ears all the way down his neck, he also felt bad cuz he'd gotten El's character hurt. And then Mike had been an ass. Steve was upset. So Eddie killed Mike. And then he's whining and Eddie's about to say something else when El speaks up, looks across the table with a scowl and says,

"just be nicer! It's not hard to be nice. Steve is our friend. Be nice to him." And she rolls her eyes at Mike, puts her hand on Steve's arm and is like,

"I will be fine. Will can heal me." And Will pipes up and is like,

"yeah. I can heal her no problem." But it's El's outburst that makes Steve kind of wonder more about the notes Eddie takes.

He'd never ask, and never look. But he stays behind one day to help Eddie clean up, they have weekly games at the community center.

So Steve's staying after and helping with chairs and tables and getting books and dice and things stored away and Eddie's notebook is RIGHT THERE. Open to the page he's always scribbling on. And Steve just sort of... stops. And looks at it. And it's everyone's names with tallys and marks and stars. Erica has wiggly marks AND stars. But mostly stars. Because she helps him with his math almost every game.

Also she "accidentally" let mike get hit with an attack in the game cuz he was being rude. El's is all stars and scrawled under them in Eddie's chicken scratch is,

"She's a literal angel oh my god."

So Steve's eyes are just wandering over this page and his brow is all creased and he doesn't hear Eddie come back until he says,

"figured out what's missing yet?" In that teasing sweet little voice he uses on Steve that makes him feel a little dizzy sometimes, give him butterflies in his stomach, and his whole body jerks and he looks up and Eddie's leaning casually against the wall near the door. And Steve immediately apologizes and Eddie laughs, shakes his head, walks closer. And is like,

"It's okay Steve. But you didn't answer my question." He licks his lips, steps closer. Steve looks back to the notebook for a second and then back to Eddie.

"My names not on there?" He asks, worrying his finger into the table top next to the notebook. And Eddie is nodding.

"Yup." And Steve's like,

"The tallys are about... me?" And he's frowning. But Eddie steps a bit closer, standing next to the table now. And he smiles, all shy and soft and is like,

"yeah Steve. They're about you. Got kinda tired of all the kids talking shit about you. And to you. So I came up with a system. Anyone says anything about you being stupid, I kill them." He grins, wide like the Cheshire cat and Steve feels kinda pinned down by it. Feels kinda hot all over.

"You didn't- have to do that. It's fine. It doesn't bother me. I mean I know I'm not smart." And he just shakes his head and looks at the ground and Eddie kinda slams his hand down on the table, startling him. He looks up and Eddie looks mad. Not at him. Just, mad.

"You're not though. Is the thing. I mean... you're incredibly good at strategy. I know you don't know enough about dnd yet to know this, but you've been a crucial part in winning like, the last three games." Eddie steps closer, his fingertips brushing the back of Steve's hand.

"You're not stupid. You're just smart in different ways." Eddie shrugs. Gives Steve a little lopsided smile.

"You think I'm smart?" He asks, biting his lip to stop the giddy smile that's threatening to spread. Eddie doesn't stop his smile, just lets it go, lets it dimple his cheeks and make Steve's knees weak. And he's like,

"yeah man. Just cuz some jumped up little tweens can't see it doesn't mean I can't. You're kinda hard to miss." He does bite his lip then, fingers playing with his hair, Steve knows he's trying not to hide behind it.

"I just uh-" Eddie clears his throat,

"I'm really petty. And protective. And it's ridiculous cuz you're not even mine but- I just- felt like I had to protect you. Or stick up for you. Or something? I dunno. Feels stupid now that I'm saying it out- oof!" Eddie huffs when Steve slams into him. Arms wrapped around his neck. He may or may not be crying into Eddie's hellfire shirt. But he gives Eddie a squeeze and then pulls back, looks at him, smiles and says,

"I am though." With a little shrug. And Eddie's like,

"you... are?" Confused. And Steve laughs, light and sweet and says,

"Yours. I am yours. If you'll have me. Or want me. Or- mmfph!" Steve's words end in a high pitched hum as Eddie's lips hit his. Just a firm press. His hand on Steve's cheek. He pulls back fast, pink in the cheeks.

"Sorry I just- if you let me have you, Steve. I may never let you go." He chuckles, giddy. Steve snorts, his head falling to Eddie's shoulder for a second before he looks at Eddie, cups his cheek genlty.

"Who says I want you to?" His brows jump, challenging. Eddie goes redder, down to his neck.

"Wanna try that kiss again?" Steve asks.

"God was is bad? I've never- I'm not... good. At that stuff." Eddie cringes. Steve cups both his cheeks until Eddie's wide eyes are staring at him, his cheeks a little squished.

"It wasn't bad. It was kind of perfectly you. But we can get you good at that stuff. You're a fast learner right?" Steve smirks, Eddie's eyes go impossibly wider as he nods aggressively, cheeks squishing even more.

"Yes, sir." Eddie mumbles between his squished lips. Steve nods, once and then moves forward, slowly, determined to show Eddie just how thankful he is for him. How thankful he is that Eddie sees him.

Petty.

And protective.

And Steve's.

#ive never played dnd sorry if stuff sucks #steddie #my writing #mine #my fic #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fic #steve x eddie #steddie ficlet #fates endless inkwell #fei

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whereforarthur · 2 months ago

Text

The Two Arthur’s

Requested by @xrubi-hillx: soft smut with ArthurTv and Arthur Hill with a virgin!reader where she’s upset after an argument with her boyfriend bc he called her a prude or smth and they try to help her and make her feel better??

Pairing: ArthurTv x Virgin!Reader x Arthur Hill

Category: Fluff and Smut

Word Count: 5.7k

A/n: ArthurTv and Arthur Hill will be labeled as such to avoid confusing the two Arthur’s

*****

The best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in the service of others. -Mahatma Gandhi

"You're just a prude," he spat, the venom in his words slicing through the quiet London evening.

Her cheeks burned with a mix of anger and embarrassment as she clutched her jacket closer to her body. The cobblestone streets of the bustling city felt cold and unforgiving under her trembling feet. The neon lights from the nearby pubs and shops painted the wet pavement in a sickly glow, a stark contrast to the warmth she had once felt in his arms. The argument had been a surprise, but the accusation had stung. It wasn't the first time he'd called her that, but she had hoped it would be the last.

Y/n hurried home, the chilly November air biting at her eyes as she tried to hold back the tears. She didn't want to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry. The door to her flat swung open, revealing the welcoming embrace of ArthurTv and Arthur Hill, her two best friends, sitting on the couch with mournful expressions. They had heard the news from her frantic text message and had dropped everything to be there for her. The smell of freshly brewed tea filled the room, a beacon of comfort in the storm of her emotions.

"Hey," ArthurTv said gently, patting the couch cushion next to him. "What happened?"

Her eyes watered as she recounted the harsh words, her voice shaking with each painful syllable. Arthur Hill listened intently, his brows furrowed in concern. The silence in the room was thick with unspoken support, a stark contrast to the cacophony of the city outside.

"It's not right," Arthur Hill murmured, reaching for her hand. "You don't deserve to be talked to like that."

ArthurTv nodded in agreement, his eyes reflecting the hurt he felt for her. "Exactly. You're amazing just the way you are. He's the one with the problem."

They sat there for a while, the warmth of the tea seeping into her bones and the kindness of their words soothing her soul. She took a deep breath, feeling a weight lifting from her chest. "Thanks, guys. I just don't know what to do."

ArthurTv leaned in closer, his eyes filled with understanding. "Look, you know we're here for you, right?"

"Of course," she whispered, sniffling.

"Good," Arthur Hill said firmly. "Because if he can't wait for you to be ready, then he doesn't deserve to be with you. Sex is about love and trust, not about pushing boundaries you're not comfortable with."

Her eyes searched their faces, finding the validation she desperately needed. She nodded, taking another sip of tea, the warm liquid soothing her raw throat. "You're right," she murmured. "I don't know why I let it get to me so much."

"It's because you care," ArthurTv said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "But you deserve someone who worships you, not someone who belittles you."

A small smile graced her lips, the first one since the argument. She felt a spark of defiance ignite within her. "You know what? You're both right. I'm worth more than that."

Arthur Hill gave her hand a squeeze. "We're going to help you through this. You're not alone."

The boys looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. "How about we do something to take your mind off things?" ArthurTv suggested, a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Like what?" she asked, hopeful for a distraction from the pain.

ArthurTv's grin grew wider. "Leave it to us. We'll show you a night you'll never forget."

*****

The two Arthur's set to work, transforming the flat into a sanctuary of pampering. They lit candles, filling the air with the sweet scent of vanilla and lavender. Soft music played in the background, a soothing melody that seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket. They led her to the couch, where a mountain of fluffy pillows and blankets awaited. The care in their eyes was like a balm to her bruised heart.

Arthur Hill took charge, guiding her to lay down. He began to gently massage her shoulders, his strong hands working out the tension that had built up. "Just relax," he murmured, his voice a gentle rumble that seemed to resonate through her. The warmth of his touch was like the sun breaking through the clouds after a storm. She closed her eyes, letting out a contented sigh.

ArthurTv emerged from the kitchen and sat cross-legged on the floor beside the couch, setting to work on her feet. His gentle touch sent waves of comfort through her body. "We're going to make you feel like a queen," he said, smiling up at her.

The warmth of Arthur Hill's hands continued to spread down her back, kneading the knots that had formed from weeks of stress and doubt. She could feel the tension in her body begin to melt away, her muscles loosening like a tightly wound spring.

"Mm, that feels so good," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper.

Arthur Hill's hands stilled for a moment before he resumed the massage, his touch lingering slightly longer on the nape of her neck. She shivered, feeling a tingle of something unfamiliar, yet oddly comforting. ArthurTv's eyes met hers, and she saw the same understanding reflected there. The atmosphere in the room had shifted, the air thickening with a new tension, one that was no longer just about her heartache.

Her breath hitched as Arthur Hill's thumbs traced slow circles along her collarbone, his fingertips brushing against the sensitive skin just above her shirt. She looked down to see ArthurTv's hands moving up her legs, his gaze never leaving hers. The candlelight danced across their faces, casting shadows that seemed to deepen the intensity of the moment.

Without a word, ArthurTv leaned in and placed a soft kiss on her ankle, his eyes never leaving hers. A jolt of heat shot through her, and she felt a flush spread from her toes to her cheeks. Arthur Hill's massage grew more intimate, his hands gliding over the fabric of her shirt, his thumbs tracing the line of her spine, sending shivers down her back.

Her heart raced as she realized the shift in their intentions. She took a deep breath, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. This was new territory, but with her two best friends, she felt safe. They had always been there for her, and she knew they would never push her further than she was willing to go.

"Are you okay with this?" ArthurTv asked, his voice a gentle rumble in the quiet room. His hand paused on her calf, giving her the space to process the sudden turn of events.

Her heart thudded in her chest as she searched their faces, the candlelight flickering in their eyes. "I... I think so," she replied, her voice tentative. "But I've never..."

Arthur Hill's hands stilled on her shoulders, his eyes filled with understanding. "We know, and we'll take it slow. We just want to make you feel good, show you that you're desired and cherished."

ArthurTv nodded in agreement. "We're not here to replace him, or to take advantage. We just want to help you heal, and if that means showing you a different kind of love tonight, then we're all for it."

*****

Their words wrapped around her like a warm embrace, and she found herself nodding, the nervousness giving way to a growing sense of excitement. They had been her confidants, her protectors, and now they offered her something she hadn't even considered. The thought of exploring intimacy with them was both thrilling and terrifying, but she knew she could trust them implicitly.

Arthur Hill's hands began to move again, more deliberately this time, unbuttoning her shirt with a tender touch. She sat up, allowing him to slip the material off her shoulders, exposing her lacy bra. ArthurTv's eyes darkened with desire as he took in the sight of her, but the look was tinged with the same care and respect that had always been there. She watched as they both leaned in, their breaths mingling with hers, and she felt a warmth pool in her belly that had nothing to do with the tea.

"So beautiful," ArthurTv murmured, his voice a soft caress that sent goosebumps across her skin.

Her eyes searched his, finding a tenderness that made her breath catch in her throat. Arthur Hill's hands paused on her shoulders, his gaze following the same path as ArthurTv's, both sets of eyes lingering on the delicate lace of her bra. The room grew hotter, the candlelight playing across their faces, casting shadows that danced with the desire that had begun to unfurl within her.

"Thank you," she whispered, her voice a shaky mess of nerves and hope. She felt their love, their friendship, in every touch, and it was that which gave her the courage to take this uncharted step.

ArthurTv's fingers traced the edges of her bra, his eyes never leaving hers. He leaned in, placing a soft kiss on her collarbone, the touch sending a rush of sensation through her. She gasped, her eyes fluttering shut as Arthur Hill's mouth found hers, his kiss gentle but insistent. The softness of his lips was a stark contrast to the firmness of ArthurTv's hands as he unclasped her bra, letting it fall away to reveal her bare skin.

Their kiss grew deeper, more urgent, as Arthur Hill's hands slid up her body to cup her breasts. His thumbs brushed against her sensitive nipples, teasing them into hard peaks. ArthurTv's kisses traveled down her neck, his breath hot against her skin as he took one of her breasts into his mouth, his tongue flicking against the sensitive flesh. She arched her back, a moan escaping her lips, the sensation overwhelming and new.

"That's it, love," Arthur Hill murmured, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through her body. His hands slid down to her hips, his thumbs tracing the waistband of her jeans. She nodded, giving him the silent permission to proceed, her body singing with anticipation. He unbuttoned her jeans, and ArthurTv helped her to shimmy out of them, leaving her in just her panties. She felt exposed but safe, surrounded by the warmth of their love.

Their eyes traveled over her body, and she couldn't help but feel a sense of power in their hungry gazes. "You handsome boys are wearing too much clothes," she said with a shy smile, the words slipping out before she could second-guess herself.

They both chuckled, the sound a sweet relief in the heavy silence. ArthurTv stood and began to strip, revealing a lean, muscular torso that made her heart race. Arthur Hill followed suit, his movements slower but no less captivating. As they both settled back on the couch, their bare chests rising and falling with anticipation, she felt a thrill of excitement. This was really happening, and she was ready.

They took their time, exploring her body with gentle kisses and tender touches, making sure she was comfortable with every step. ArthurTv kissed her deeply, his hands cupping her face as Arthur Hill's lips traveled down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. She felt her body respond, her breaths growing shorter, her skin flushing with heat.

*****

Their touch grew bolder as they worked in tandem, each movement calculated to drive her closer to the edge. Arthur Hill's fingers slid under the elastic of her panties, teasing the sensitive skin just above her mound. She gasped into ArthurTv's mouth, her hips involuntarily bucking upward, seeking more. He chuckled, the sound sending a shiver down her spine. "Patience," he whispered against her lips.

ArthurTv broke their kiss, his eyes smoldering with passion. He leaned down, his breath hot against her neck. "Did your boyfriend ever eat you out, darling?"

Her eyes widened, a blush spreading across her cheeks. "N-no," she stuttered, the mere thought of it making her tremble.

"Well, he's a selfish prick," ArthurTv murmured, his voice filled with a possessive growl. "We're going to show you what it's like to be truly worshiped."

Her heart raced as Arthur Hill's thumbs hooked into the sides of her panties, slowly pulling them down her legs. She watched, breathless, as ArthurTv leaned back, his eyes never leaving hers, and took off his own trousers, revealing his hard length. The sight of him made her mouth go dry, and she felt a thrill of excitement mingled with nerves.

With a trembling hand, she reached out to touch him, her fingertips brushing lightly against his chest. "Can I?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

ArthurTv's eyes flashed with approval, and he nodded, his hand guiding hers down to wrap around his erection. He groaned softly as she tentatively began to stroke him, her movements clumsy but earnest. Arthur Hill's mouth was back on her neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making her gasp. His hands were on her thighs, urging them apart, and she complied, feeling a rush of excitement and vulnerability.

ArthurTv took over, his hands guiding her, showing her the right amount of pressure and speed to elicit the deepest moans from him. She watched, mesmerized, as he threw his head back, his eyes rolling back in his head. The power she had over him was exhilarating, a stark contrast to the powerlessness she had felt earlier in the night.

Arthur Hill's mouth found hers again, his tongue dancing with hers in a rhythm that mirrored the movements of ArthurTv's hips. His hand traveled down her body, his fingers sliding through the slickness of her arousal. He teased her entrance, and she tensed, her breath hitching in her throat. He pulled away, his eyes searching hers for permission. She nodded, and he slid a single digit inside her, his touch so gentle it brought tears to her eyes.

The sensation was foreign yet oddly comforting, a stark contrast to the pain she had always associated with the word "virginity." They took it slow, each touch and kiss a promise of pleasure to come. ArthurTv's hand on hers, guiding her strokes, his breaths growing more ragged with every passing second. The tension grew, a tight coil in her belly, until she felt like she might burst.

"Ready for more?" Arthur Hill murmured against her mouth, his hand still moving between her legs, his fingers teasing her entrance. She nodded, the anticipation too much to bear. He kissed her deeply, his tongue mimicking the movements of his hand, and she felt herself being drawn into a vortex of desire.

Slowly, so slowly, Arthur Hill's mouth trailed down her body, leaving a trail of kisses and gentle nips in its wake. She could feel his warm breath against her skin, her heart pounding in her chest as he reached the apex of her thighs. He paused, looking up at her, and she nodded again, her breath shallow. He positioned himself between her legs, his eyes never leaving hers as he leaned in, his mouth hovering just above her.

With the softest of touches, his tongue met her folds, and she gasped, her eyes fluttering shut. The sensation was indescribable, a gentle yet insistent pressure that had her hips lifting off the couch. He took his time, tasting her, exploring her with a reverence that she had never felt before. Her hands found his hair, tangling in the soft strands as she tried to guide him, to show him what felt good, but he already seemed to know. His tongue circled her clit, the pressure building with every pass, and she felt the coil in her belly tighten.

"You taste so sweet," Arthur Hill murmured, his voice muffled against her. "So perfect."

The words were like a balm to her soul, erasing the harshness of the evening's earlier events. Her body was alive with sensation, her nerves singing under Arthur Hill's skilled ministrations. ArthurTv's hand never left hers, their fingers entwined in a silent promise of support. She felt cherished, desired in a way she never had before.

"You're so beautiful," ArthurTv whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Your body is a work of art." His words were a sweet symphony, each note resonating deep within her, filling her with a sense of worth she hadn't felt in so long.

*****

Their hands moved in concert, caressing and exploring, each touch sending waves of pleasure through her. Arthur Hill's tongue swirled around her clit, his teeth gently grazing the sensitive flesh. The sensations grew more intense, and she felt herself spiraling closer to the edge. The room was filled with the sounds of their labored breathing and the soft whispers of encouragement.

"Come undone for us, darling," ArthurTv murmured in her ear, his voice a seductive command that sent a shiver down her spine. Her eyes snapped open, meeting his, and she could see the fierce love and passion in his gaze. It was all the encouragement she needed. She let go of her inhibitions, her body arching off the couch as the first spasm of orgasm took her. Arthur Hill's mouth never left her, his tongue lapping at her sweetness as she trembled beneath him.

The wave of pleasure crashed over her, leaving her gasping for air. She felt a warm hand slide up her stomach to cup her breast, ArthurTv's thumb flicking her nipple in time with Arthur Hill's strokes. It was too much, and yet she wanted more. "Please," she managed to say, the word a desperate plea.

Arthur Hill's eyes lit up with understanding, and he added another finger, pumping into her slowly, letting her adjust to the feeling. She watched ArthurTv's hand work his own length, his eyes on her face, the love and desire in his gaze making her feel like she was the only woman in the world.

Her breath grew ragged as Arthur Hill's tongue and fingers worked in perfect harmony, her body responding in ways she never knew possible. The sensations grew more intense, the pleasure building to a crescendo. "I'm going to... I'm going to..." she stuttered, unable to find the words.

"Let go, baby," ArthurTv whispered, his voice a gentle encouragement. "We've got you."

Her eyes rolled back in her head as she gave in to the pleasure, her body shaking with the force of her release. Arthur Hill's mouth and hands never stopped moving, drawing out every last tremor until she was boneless and panting. She collapsed back onto the couch, her chest heaving, feeling as if she had been reborn.

ArthurTv leaned over her, his face flushed with desire. He kissed her softly, tasting the sweetness of Arthur Hill's kisses on her lips. "You're incredible," he murmured, his eyes filled with love and admiration.

Her eyes searched Arthur Hill's, finding the same love reflected back at her. She nodded, her voice a whisper. "Thank you," she said, the words filled with emotion. "Thank you both."

They shared a moment of quiet understanding, the air thick with the scent of candles and the aftermath of passion. Arthur Hill kissed her inner thigh, his eyes never leaving hers, and she felt a warmth spread through her. "You're welcome, love," he said, his voice filled with a gentle intensity that made her heart flutter.

ArthurTv leaned in, his eyes searching hers. "Ready for the next step?" His hand slid down her body, his fingers playing with the trimmed hair above her mound.

Her heart raced, but she nodded, feeling a newfound confidence. "Yes," she breathed, her voice trembling with excitement. "I trust you."

*****

ArthurTv reached over to the coffee table, where a box of condoms lay, a silent reminder of their intentions. He ripped one open with his teeth, the sound making her pulse quicken. He rolled it on with a practiced ease, his eyes never leaving hers, and she couldn't help but feel a thrill of anticipation. She had never been with anyone else, and the thought of losing her virginity to someone who knew her so well, who cared for her so deeply, was both terrifying and exhilarating.

"You ready, love?" ArthurTv asked, his voice thick with desire. She took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of Arthur Hill's body against her side, his hand resting comfortingly on her hip.

"Yes," she whispered, her heart racing with a mix of fear and excitement. ArthurTv's hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "This is going to hurt at first," he said gently, his eyes filled with understanding. "But we're here with you, and we'll make it as good as we can."

Her nod was all the encouragement he needed. He positioned himself between her legs, the tip of his cock pressing against her entrance. She took a deep breath, feeling the anticipation coil tightly in her stomach. With a gentle push, he entered her, and she gasped at the sudden pressure. "Breathe," Arthur Hill murmured, his hand stroking her hair. "You're doing so well."

The pain was sharp, but she focused on their eyes, the love and care in their expressions giving her the strength to push through it. They both watched her intently, waiting for any sign of distress. She felt a tear slip down her cheek, but it was quickly kissed away by ArthurTv. "You're so brave," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm.

"You are doing so good, love," Arthur Hill said, his voice a gentle rumble in her ear. His hand slid down her body, finding her clit and beginning to stroke it with a familiarity that sent another wave of heat through her. The pain began to recede, replaced by the growing pressure of ArthurTv inside her. She took deep, shuddering breaths, her eyes never leaving ArthurTv's as he inched deeper.

"Almost there," he murmured, his eyes filled with concern and love. "Just a bit more." With one final push, he was fully seated within her, and she felt a pop as her barrier gave way. She gasped, the pain a sudden, sharp sting, but it was quickly overshadowed by the warmth that filled her.

ArthurTv held still, giving her time to adjust to the new sensation. "You okay?" he asked, his voice tight with restrained passion. She nodded, feeling a sense of accomplishment mingled with the lingering discomfort.

"Ready for me to move?" he whispered, his eyes searching hers for any hint of doubt. She nodded again, and with a slow, deliberate motion, he began to pull out, only to push back in. She gasped, the pain now a distant memory as pleasure began to replace it.

Their rhythm grew steadier, ArthurTv's movements slow and gentle, his eyes never leaving hers. Arthur Hill's hand continued to tease her clit, the sensation heightening with every stroke of ArthurTv's cock. "Oh, God," she moaned, her voice a sweet symphony of passion. They watched her face, reading her reactions, adjusting their movements to bring her the most pleasure.

"How does that feel?" Arthur Hill asked, his voice a low rumble of concern and desire.

Y/n bit her bottom lip, the sensation of ArthurTv inside her both strange and exhilarating. "It's... different," she managed to say, her eyes fluttering shut as she tried to process the feeling.

"Different good?" Arthur Hill's voice was gentle, his eyes searching hers for any sign of pain.

"So good," she murmured, the words slipping out of her mouth like a sweet secret. The pleasure grew with every movement, ArthurTv's cock filling her up in a way she had never experienced before. The two of them together, the perfect symphony of care and desire, had her body singing with sensation.

Arthur Hill leaned in, whispering sweet nothings in her ear as he continued to work her clit with skilled fingers. "Music to our ears, love," he said with a smile, his voice a soothing melody that had her hips moving in time with ArthurTv's rhythm. "We want to hear you scream our names."

Their movements grew more urgent, their bodies moving in a dance of passion that had been years in the making. ArthurTv's cock slid in and out of her with a gentle ease, the pain long forgotten, replaced by a building pressure that threatened to consume her. She felt Arthur Hill's thumb press down on her clit, the sensation so intense she thought she might shatter.

"Open your eyes, love," Arthur Hill murmured. "I want to see you when you come."

Her eyes fluttered open to meet Arthur Hill's, his gaze intense and hungry. She felt a twinge of guilt for focusing so much on ArthurTv, but she knew that Arthur Hill understood, that he was as much a part of this as the two of them. She nodded, her eyes locking onto his as ArthurTv's thrusts grew deeper, more insistent.

"I want to taste you too," she whispered, her voice raw with need. Arthur Hill's eyes lit up, and he leaned in, kissing her with a passion that made her toes curl. She felt ArthurTv's hand on the back of Arthur Hill's head, urging him closer, the three of them now connected in a way that was more than just friendship.

Gently, Arthur Hill pulled away from her, his eyes never leaving hers. He took her hand and guided it to his erection, her grip tightening around him. He groaned softly, his eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. "Take your time," he murmured, his voice a sweet, seductive melody.

Her hand grew bolder, her strokes more sure as ArthurTv's hips began to move faster, his breaths growing more ragged. She watched as Arthur Hill's hand moved to join hers, their fingers interlocking as they worked in tandem. The sight of them together, the intimacy of their shared touch, was almost too much to bear. Her orgasm was building again, the sensation so intense she could feel it in every nerve ending.

"Fuck, you feel so tight," ArthurTv groaned, his eyes never leaving hers. The words sent a shiver down her spine, the raw desire in his voice making her wetter. "You're going to make me come, love."

Her eyes grew wide, the realization that she had the power to bring him pleasure sending a thrill through her. She tightened her grip on Arthur Hill's cock, matching the rhythm of ArthurTv's thrusts. The two men watched her, their eyes dark with passion, and she felt a newfound sense of confidence.

ArthurTv leaned down, capturing her mouth in a fiery kiss, his tongue dancing with hers as he pushed into her deeper, faster. The sensation was unlike anything she had ever felt before, a heady mix of pain and pleasure that had her body tightening around him. Arthur Hill's hand slid from her hair to her hip, his grip firm as he encouraged her to move with them, to lose herself in the moment.

Her orgasm grew closer with every stroke, the pressure building until she couldn't hold back any longer. With a cry, she shattered, her body convulsing around ArthurTv's cock. He groaned into her mouth, his hips stuttering as he followed her over the edge, filling her with warmth. They held each other tightly, their breaths mingling as they rode out the aftershocks of their shared release.

As the world slowly came back into focus, she felt Arthur Hill's hand on her cheek, guiding her face towards his erection. She took him in her mouth, the salty taste of his arousal mingling with the sweetness of their kisses. His gasp of pleasure was all the encouragement she needed, and she took him deeper, her tongue swirling around the head. The power of making both men feel this way was intoxicating, and she reveled in it.

"That's it, love," Arthur Hill murmured, his voice tight with need. "Just like that." His hand gently cradled the back of her head, his hips moving in time with her mouth. ArthurTv's strokes grew slower, his body taut with the effort to hold back, not wanting to overwhelm her.

The praise washed over her like a warm wave, filling her with a sense of pride and power. She had never felt so desired, so cherished. She took Arthur Hill deeper, her tongue swirling around his length, eager to taste his release. "You're doing so good, baby," ArthurTv whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "So fucking good."

ArthurTv slowly pulled out of her, his cock glistening with her arousal. The feeling of emptiness was almost too much, but she knew this was only the beginning. He leaned back, watching her with a mix of awe and love. "Keep going," he urged, his voice low and needy. "Make him come for you."

Her eyes never left Arthur Hill's as she took him deeper into her mouth, her tongue swirling around his shaft. His hand tightened in her hair, his breathing becoming more erratic. She could feel the tension in his body, the way he was holding back, and she knew he was close. She increased her pace, her hand moving in time with her mouth.

"Fuck, yes," Arthur Hill groaned, his eyes fluttering shut. "You're going to make me come." The words sent a fresh wave of excitement through her, and she sucked harder, her cheeks hollowing with the effort. He watched her, his eyes dark with desire, and she felt a surge of pride at the effect she had on him.

"You look so pretty like that," ArthurTv murmured, his voice a low rumble of appreciation. She could feel his eyes on her, drinking in the sight of her mouth wrapped around Arthur Hill's cock, her cheeks flushed with arousal. She looked up, meeting ArthurTv's gaze, and the love and admiration in his eyes had her pussy clenching around the emptiness left by his withdrawal.

Arthur Hill's hips began to buck, his movements growing more erratic as she brought him closer to climax. She felt a thrill of excitement at the power she wielded, her inexperience forgotten in the heat of the moment. His eyes snapped open, locking onto hers, and she knew he was close. "Swallow it," he whispered, his voice a desperate plea, and she nodded, eager to please.

With a strangled cry, Arthur Hill came, his warmth flooding her mouth. She took it all, swallowing with a greedy moan that had ArthurTv's eyes darkening with desire. She sat up, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling a sense of accomplishment that was almost as overwhelming as the pleasure that had just washed over her.

*****

"How was that for a first time?" ArthurTv asked, his voice hoarse with passion. She looked at him, her eyes glazed with desire, and smiled. "It was... amazing," she whispered, her voice trembling with the intensity of her emotions.

The three of them lay tangled together on the couch, their limbs entwined as they caught their breaths. The room was filled with the lingering scent of their love-making, a sweet and musky perfume that seemed to cling to the air. Arthur Hill leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "We're so proud of you," he murmured.

Y/n felt a warmth spread through her, a sense of belonging that she hadn't felt in a long time. She had never imagined that losing her virginity could be like this, with two men who loved her so fiercely. She looked from Arthur Hill to ArthurTv, their faces a blur of sweat and passion, and felt a tear slip down her cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

They shared a knowing smile, the intimacy of the moment palpable. "You're welcome, love," ArthurTv murmured, his hand caressing her cheek. "We're always here for you."

The thought of her boyfriend's harsh words seemed like a distant memory now, replaced by the warmth and tenderness of her friends' touches. She knew that what they had just shared was more than friendship, and she couldn't help but feel that her relationship with him was a mere shadow of what she had just experienced.

"It might be time soon to break up with your boyfriend, though," Arthur Hill said softly, as if reading her thoughts. "You deserve to be with someone who appreciates you, who doesn't make you feel like that."

Y/n nodded, her throat tight with unshed tears. "I know," she whispered. The weight of her decision was heavy, but in that moment, with ArthurTv and Arthur Hill surrounding her, she felt lighter than she had in a long time.

"We'll be with you every step of the way," ArthurTv assured her, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. "And who knows," he added with a wicked grin, "maybe you'll find someone who really knows how to make you feel good."

Y/n couldn't help but smile at the thought. The idea of moving on from her ex-boyfriend was both exhilarating and terrifying. But with ArthurTv and Arthur Hill by her side, she felt like she could conquer the world. They had shown her a side of herself she never knew existed, a sexual being capable of intense pleasure and passion. "I think I already had," she murmured, her voice filled with a newfound confidence.

The two men exchanged a knowing glance, their smiles widening. "We're just getting started," Arthur Hill said, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "There's so much more to explore, love."

Y/n felt a thrill of excitement at the prospect, her body already craving more of their touch. ArthurTv leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. "We'll take it slow," he assured her. "We're in no rush."

Arthur Hill chuckled, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But we do have plans for you," he said, his hand sliding down her body to cup her ass. "So many plans."

Y/n felt a thrill of excitement at the promise in his voice, the idea of more nights like this one stretching out before her. "Whatever you want," she murmured, her voice a seductive whisper. "I'm all yours."

The three of them lay there, their hearts beating in sync, their bodies still humming with the aftermath of passion. The silence was comfortable, filled with the unspoken understanding that their friendship had evolved into something more. It was the start of a new chapter, one filled with experiences and emotions she had only ever dreamed of.

*****

Taglist~

@gvf23 @xxkatxgracexx

#british youtubers #imagines #smut #arthur hill #arthur hill x reader #arthurtv x reader #arthur frederick #arthurtv #threes0me

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aikrus · 27 days ago

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My Harem Academia! INTRO TEASER CHAPTER

It was a warm afternoon at U.A. High, and you could feel the sweat dripping down the base of your neck. Training had been grueling, but that wasn’t what had your heart racing. No, it was the constant presence of them—the boys, each one more imposing than the last. It was as if they were all vying for your attention, each in their own way, and you were starting to feel the heat.

"You okay?" Midoriya’s soft voice startled you as you wiped the sweat from your forehead. His emerald eyes were filled with concern, and you couldn't help but smile at the way he always looked out for you. His kindness was one of the things that made him so easy to be around, and it never failed to leave you breathless.

"Yeah, just a little tired," you said, your breath still heavy from the sparring session. His gaze lingered on you a moment longer than usual, something unreadable in his expression. You tried not to think too much about it, but you could feel your face heating up under his scrutiny.

Before you could say anything else, Bakugo stormed over, his explosive energy radiating off him in waves. "Oi, Deku! Stop hovering and give her some space. She doesn't need you babying her."

He crossed his arms, glaring at Midoriya as if daring him to say something back. But you had grown used to Bakugo’s fiery personality. Underneath all that bluster, you had seen glimpses of something softer, something more protective. And while he wouldn’t admit it, Bakugo cared about you—maybe more than he wanted to. And he distinctively didn't hover, which is more than any of the others can say.

"Tch. I’m not babying her, Kacchan!" Midoriya fired back, his hands clenched at his sides. "She’s part of our team, and I was just making sure—"

"Enough." Todoroki’s calm voice cut through the brewing argument as he approached, his mismatched eyes locking onto yours. There was a quiet intensity in the way he looked at you, as if he could see straight through to your thoughts. His cool demeanor was a stark contrast to the heated exchange between Midoriya and Bakugo, but you knew Todoroki felt just as strongly as they did.

"You shouldn’t waste your energy on pointless arguments," Todoroki said smoothly, his voice like a breeze on a hot summer day. His hand reached out, almost as if he were about to brush your cheek, but he stopped short, pulling back at the last second. Still, the gesture made your heart skip a beat. "Focus on what’s important."

You were about to thank him when a familiar voice rang out. "Yo, what’s with all the drama over here?" Kaminari strolled up with a playful grin, his blond hair slightly disheveled from his own training. "You guys fighting over her again? Man, I wish I had those problems."

"It’s not like that," you said, laughing nervously, but Kaminari just winked at you, clearly not convinced- and another thing, who was he to act all nonchalant after the stunt he pulled the other day?

"Oh? Is that so?" He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a teasing whisper. "If you ever get tired of all this tension, you know I’m always down for some fun."

Before you could respond, Kirishima jogged over, flashing his signature toothy grin. "C’mon, Kami, leave her alone. She’s been training hard, and we should all be supporting her, not stressing her out." His eyes, always so warm and full of encouragement, met yours, and you felt a sense of calm wash over you.

Kiri was always the shoulder you could lean on, no matter what chaos was happening around you. His unwavering support was something you cherished, but lately, even his smiles felt a little different.

"Thanks, Eijiro," you said softly, grateful for his presence.

As the boys exchanged looks, you couldn’t help but wonder how you had ended up in the middle of all this. Each of them meant something different to you—Izuku’s gentleness, Bakugo’s fierce protectiveness, Todoroki’s quiet strength, Kaminari’s playful charm, and Kirishima’s constant support. And yet, with each passing day, the lines between friendship and something more seemed to blur.

You caught Midoriya glancing at you again, his face tinged with uncertainty. Bakugo scowled, as if he could feel the same thing. Todoroki stood just a little closer than usual, his presence like a quiet storm. Kaminari’s easy smile never faltered, but his gaze lingered longer than usual, and Kirishima’s hand briefly brushed yours, a reassuring warmth in the midst of it all.

It was getting harder to ignore as the months passed into this hell school year... how did this all start in the first place?

coming soon~

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vampirenigh · 1 year ago

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i hope this isnt weird or too specific--- (ignore this if u dont wanna do it!!)

i was hoping you could write about ciel and alois (blck btlr) with a very dreamy s/o? like, dreamy in so many aspects. like they look like they jumped out of a painting in a museum, or they could look identical to some figures they've seen in paintings. and their voice would be very calming too, quiet but clear iygwim.... like s/o is basically angelic and all that and their presence feels surreal to the boys

gn! reader if that's fine:DD

You are my everything

Hey. No problem at all. It's totally fine and thank you for your ask. I like when people send me specific asks because it helps me understand better and not mess up. At first I didn't understand what you meant by dreamy but because of your explication I think I got it. I will try to do gn but I never tried so if something is not right don't hesitate to tell me. And if you have any more ideas don't hesitate to send an ask.😁

Summary: Ciel and Alois whit a dreamy reader.

Characters: Ciel Phantomhive, Alois Trancy.

Warnings: gn!reader, some posesiveness in Alois?

Masterlist

Ciel Phantomhive

He first saw you in town. He was with Sebastian to take some things and investigate a new case given by the queen. But the care was totally forgotten when he saw you. You were the most beautiful person he has ever seen. He knew that you are from an aristocratic family from your clothes and your maid but didn't know which one.

So he puts Sebastian to do some research on you and he learns that you were Elisabeth's cousin. He couldn't believe it. Even more when he first talked to you at Elisabeth's birthday party. You were just so calm and welcoming that he felt safe in your presence. Your quiet but clear voice made him feel like he could tell you everything and you wouldn't judge him.

And because of that he broke the engagement with Lizzy and started to court you. Elizabeth's mother was a bit mad but couldn't stop Ciel because he loves him as her own son and he deserves to have happy memories.

So you two start to date after some time whit a new engagement made between Ciel's family and your's. He started to call you often at his mansion and talk to you. He could've sworn that you were an angel from heaven when you first comforted him after he had a nightmare and you stayed at his mansion overnight. You were so gentle with him like he was made of glass and would break at the slightest touch. It was such a different feeling that he felt he doesn't deserve it.

All this time he thought that the only thing that counts is to revenge his family and to reestablish his family name but now he starts to doubt it. The only thing that he can think of is that he doesn't want to lose you ever like he lost everyone else. He will protect you whit his life and will make sure that you are always comfortable.

God forgive anyone that hurts or embarrasses you because Sebastian will take care of him.

Ciel would often come to you to talk about what is bothering him and would be grateful for who you are that he sends you different dresses and jewelry that he knows will look good on you.

In conclusion he will love and cherish you till the day he dies and will always be grateful for your presence even in the darkest times.

Alois Trancy

He saw you in a museum in the art section. He couldn't believe how much you looked alike whit a portrait of a very beautiful women that lived over 200 years ago. He couldn't take his eyes of you so he made a move. He came to you and introduced himself in the hope that you will see him as fascinating as he sees you. And you did. You introduced yourself and engaged in a conversation whit Alois.

Your voice and your looks made him not want to leave you alone at all. He feelt like he is talking to an angel who came to safe him. He learned that you are the grand grand granddaughter of the woman in the painting and that she was one of the most beautiful women that lived in that time and that you are happy that you could resemble her.

He started to court you and made the engagement whit your parents. He asks Hannah some things that you would like and if you don't he will punish her severely.

He will eventually tell you everything about his past and about Claude. He feels so safe with you that he couldn't bring himself to hide it. And the moment when you just tell him that it doesn't matter, it doesn't define him he swore he could die right then and there as a happy boy.

He would tell Claude to protect you and to kill anyone who comes too close to you whit bad intentions.

He would be very clingy. He doesn't like being away from you. He feels like you are his lifeline and can't leave you.

Do you remember the time when Alois was on his knees in front of Claude to prevent him of leaving? He would do that when you wanted to go have some tea time whit another girl. (What can I say he has abandonament issues.)

He feels that he is the luckiest boy on the planet because he can have such a beautiful and calm lover who sees him for who he is and not for his money.

#black butler #ciel x reader #ciel phantomhive #ciel phamtonhive #ciel phantomhive x reader #ciel black butler #alois x reader #alois trancy #kuroshitsuji alois #black butler alois #kuroshitsuji #kuroshitsuji ciel

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semisolidmind · 9 months ago

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What happens when they outlive angel? Since poppy was first created in the 50’s it seems like being preserved as toys has granted them longer lifespans if not technical immortality, so angel aging is going to become a problem sooner or later, and I’m kinda wondering what happens when the inevitable comes. I made myself sad thinking about this and now all of you will be too, suffer with me

(i was thinking about this as well, uuuugghhhh)

it's so so sad. what will the toys do without their one advocate, the one person who truly understands them and what they represent? when the one good home they've ever had is gone, they've got nowhere else to go.

so, they stay.

when y/n dies, the toys have a quiet burial for them in their backyard, under a big shady tree. they make a simple marker from rocks, and pick wildflowers nearby to lay on the grave. none of them speak. it was hard enough digging the grave, and unbearably difficult to lay their savior to rest.

the house is horribly quiet afterwards.

poppy is likely the strong one throughout all this. she's had the most experience saying goodbye to people she cares about (thanks to her longevity), and she attempts to maintain a sense of optimism about it all. they'll all be ok, she's sure of it. they'll find their way through this, like always. it's what y/n would have wanted. kissy withdraws into herself further, following poppy's lead and trying not to cry.

dogday is devastated. devastated beyond all measure. he was the one to discover y/n when they passed. they were so pale, he could feel their warmth leaving them. their face looked so peaceful, they looked like they had just fallen asleep. he knew it was coming, they were getting older, but—but it's still not fair. it doesn't feel real. it can't be, his angel can't be dead, nothing has ever kept them down before, they always get back up, why couldn't they get back up—

...he tries to stay calm.

he took on the duty of grave digging. he took on the heavy burden of laying his beloved angel into the makeshift coffin they were able to cobble together. he could barely keep it together when he did. he managed, but not without crying.

that night, he waits until the girls have gone to bed before he closes himself off in y/n's bedroom. in the privacy of the once-shared space, dogday allows the truly desperate, heaving sobs he's been keeping in to finally leave his chest. tears mat down the fur on his face as he cries. he shakily grasps y/n's jacket to himself, wishing that there was some way, any way, that they could come back to him. he knows humans aren't meant to live forever. but that doesn't stop him from wishing that y/n could achieve the tentative immortality that the toys have, if only so that they could stay with him.

dogday becomes somber after his angel dies. they were his source of hope, his reason for living. they saved his life in ways beyond just physical. they were the only reason he was alive at all. without them, he's...he's not sure if he wants to keep going.

but he must. he knows he has to. y/n would want him to take care of the others, they'd want him to protect and provide for them. so, without any other purpose...that's what he does.

the toys live in their savior's house for as long as they're able. it's just their luck that the house is never put up for sale, that it's just sort of...forgotten about. it becomes a "haunted house in the woods," feared and avoided. they're more than happy to become the vague, cryptic monsters in local legends if it means that they're left alone.

nobody will come by to check on y/n for a while, and the toys will have power and food (their water comes from a well hooked up to the house) for at least a little while longer. and after that, they'll manage on what they can find in the woods.

they live as peacefully as they can for as long as they can.

#fr dogday may as well be a widower here #he and y/n werent married technically but they may as well have been #if this is canon dogday he goes completely hopeless after yn dies #but survivor dogday with his limbs intact would keep going and just get kinda bitter about everything

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moonsandmobilityaids · 1 month ago

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Alone

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: The quidditch stands are inaccessible, and parties in the common room are a nightmare for you, so you sit in your room, waiting for it to be over. Warnings: Inaccessibility, implied casual ableism Series Masterlist

The sound of the crowd from the Quidditch field reverberates through the thick stone walls of Hogwarts, a distant roar punctuated by cheers and chants. The castle itself seems to pulse with the excitement of the match, the energy permeating every corner, reaching even the solitude of your room.

While you are accustomed to this routine—sitting out while James soars on his broomstick, the echo of the game reaching you only as a secondary spectator—it doesn't make the reality any easier. The Quidditch stands, high and inaccessible, have been the bane of many a brainstorming session. No matter how much you and the boys puzzle over it, the outcome remains the same: you, far removed from the action, alone with your thoughts.

James had insisted, of course, that you should be there, promising to carry you up the stairs himself if necessary. But you'd refused, knowing the practicalities all too well. The stands are narrow, the seating cramped. You would spend the entire game uncomfortable and confined, and getting down afterwards? A logistical nightmare best avoided.

So you’d stayed behind. Again.

The cheers from the Gryffindor common room are almost deafening as the team returns from the match. From the sounds of it, they've won. You can almost picture it—the triumphant grin on James's face, his hair even messier than usual from the wind; Sirius throwing an arm around him, their laughter ringing through the hallways; and Remus, standing a little apart but smiling nonetheless, his quiet pride radiating warmth. A pang of longing hits you, but you push it down, reminding yourself of what comes next.

A party. A crowded, chaotic celebration in the common room where everyone is too preoccupied with their victory to notice how difficult it is for you to navigate in your wheelchair. You've been there before, stuck on the outskirts while life goes on around you, a reminder of what you don't get to have.

You let out a long sigh and settle deeper into the bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. The muffled sounds of laughter and chatter from the other side of the wall serve as a cruel reminder of what you're missing. You can almost see it—the flickering candlelight illuminating flushed faces, the clinking of glasses as students toast to another successful day, the way they all seem to gravitate toward one another, leaving no room for someone like you.

Even if you were to gather the courage to step outside your door, you know the scene that awaits. You've tried before, attempted to blend into the warmth of their camaraderie, but each time you've felt more like a ghost than a participant. Invisible until someone bumps into you, their eyes widening in surprise. "Oh, sorry," they'd mutter before turning away, their attention already drawn back to the lively conversation you're not a part of.

Or worse, the well-meaning ones who try too hard. Their voices are always a touch too loud, their smiles a little too wide as they ask if you need help with anything. As if your presence is a problem to be solved rather than just accepted. On nights like this, it's easier to stay hidden away, even if the loneliness gnaws at your insides, even if the exclusion stings more than you care to admit.

Time lingers, stretching out into what feels like hours. The ache in your bones is a constant reminder of the life you used to have, the one where you could move freely without the spectre of pain constantly hovering. You shift in bed, trying to find a comfortable position, but each movement sends a jolt through your limbs, a harsh contrast to the silence that surrounds you.

The thought of rising, of navigating through the boisterous throng of students celebrating below, seems impossible. How can you be expected to put on a brave face when every fibre of your being screams in protest?

And yet, despite the hurt, a small smile pulls at your lips as you picture the scene unfolding below. James's grin would be infectious, his hazel eyes alight with the thrill of victory. He'd sling his broom over his shoulder with a nonchalance that belied the skill he possessed, sharing in the joyous cacophony with Sirius at his side. You want him to have this moment, to bask in the glory that Quidditch brings him. It wouldn't be fair to darken his day with your troubles.

But acknowledging his happiness doesn't chase away the sadness that clings to you, an unwanted shroud. There's a hollow space within you that their laughter can't reach, a void that amplifies the silence. The loneliness is a familiar companion by now, yet it never ceases to sting.

The door to your room opens with a creak, and you sit up, surprised. The party is in full swing; you didn't expect anyone to come looking for you just yet. But there, silhouetted against the light of the hallway is James, his hair still dishevelled from the game, his face flushed with excitement.

His eyes soften as they meet yours. He's still in his Quidditch uniform, the scarlet and gold making him look amazing. The sight of him, so vibrant and alive, stirs a feeling deep within you.

"Hey," he says quietly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. His voice is low, threaded with concern. "I missed you out there."

You force a smile, the corners of your mouth barely twitching upwards. It's a weak attempt at humour, but your heart isn't in it. "Yeah, well, the stands aren't exactly wheelchair accessible."

James' frown deepens, and he crosses the room to sit on the edge of your bed, his weight causing the mattress to dip slightly. "I know," he says quietly, reaching out to take your hand. His grip is firm, grounding—a stark contrast to the uncertainty churning within you.

"I hate that," he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shrug, trying to seem nonchalant despite the bitterness creeping into your voice. "It's fine. I'm used to it."

But James doesn't let go of your hand, instead squeezing it gently as if to offer some semblance of comfort. He looks at you, those earnest eyes seeming to see right through your forced indifference. "No, it's not fine," he insists. "And I hate that you're missing out because of this."

You let out a small sigh, your fingers tightening around his in response. "It's just how it is, James. But I'm happy for you guys. You did win, didn't you?"

This time, when James grins, the joy reaches his eyes, chasing away the shadows—if only for a moment. "We did. It was brilliant." He leans back, his free hand gesturing animatedly as he recounts the match, painting a picture of daring dives and spectacular saves, of the scores he made. You can see the pride swelling in him with each word, and for a brief second, it's almost enough to take your mind off the sting of being left behind.

"But..." His voice trails off, the energy draining from him as reality sets back in. He looks at you, concern etching lines into his young face. "I just wish you could've been there, too, sweetheart. And that you weren't stuck here while the rest of us are out there."

"It's all right," you whisper, knowing the lie hangs heavy between you both. "I'd just be in the way. It's too crowded."

James's expression crumples, and he shakes his head vehemently. "You'd never be in the way." He glances towards the door. "I was going to go to the party, but I think I'd rather stay here with you."

You blink, taken aback by his words. "James, you should go celebrate with the team. This is your night.”

"I don't care about the party," James murmurs, his voice barely more than a breath against your skin. He brushes a stray lock of hair behind your ear, his touch light and reassuring. "I care about you. I don't want you to feel left out while everyone else is laughing and celebrating. I want to be here with you."

A lump forms in your throat, hard and painful. You turn away quickly, blinking back the sudden sting of tears. "I don't want to ruin your night," you manage to whisper, your voice shaky.

James's hand gently lifts your chin, turning your face back towards him. His eyes are soft, filled with an affection that sends warmth spreading through your chest. He smiles at you, and it feels like a promise. "Y/N, you could never ruin my night."

Before you can respond, the door creaks open, and two familiar figures step inside. Sirius leans against the doorframe, his usual grin softened around the edges. Remus follows closely behind him, pulling up a chair on the other side of you.

"Thought we'd find you here," Remus says softly, his hand reaching out to touch your arm—a silent promise that you're not alone.

"Feels like I'm missing the party," you reply, attempting a weak smile as you glance between them both. "You should be out there celebrating."

Sirius snorts and drops into a chair next to James, crossing his arms over his chest. "Like we want to be out there with all those people when we could be here with you."

Remus lifts an eyebrow at Sirius's blunt remark, but his hand finds yours, warm and reassuring. "We wanted to check on you. Make sure you're holding up."

"Same old story." You shrug, the frustration of it all seeping into your voice. "Couldn't go to the match, and now I can't even make it through the common room with the party in full swing." Your gaze drops to your lap, voice barely above a whisper. "Not exactly my best day."

James leans closer, his lips brushing against your temple in a feather-light kiss of reassurance. "But we're here now."

"Right," Sirius agree, his hand giving your shoulder a comforting squeeze. "We'll have our own party here. Who needs the common room anyway?"

You manage a small smile at their words, and while it doesn't erase the sting completely, it lessens the ache just a little. You're not alone, not when you have them, and that thought is enough to keep the darkness at bay.

"Thank you," you whisper, voice breaking on the words, but they hear it all the same. The gratitude lingers in the air, a testament to bonds that run deeper than blood.

"We will always be here for you," Remus says, his voice soft but resolute. He leans back against the headboard, still holding your hand as if it's a lifeline. "No matter what."

James shifts on the bed, settling next to you. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in closer until you can feel the steady rhythm of his heart beating against your back—a solid reminder that you're not alone.

Sirius grins, his grey eyes twinkling with mischief despite the gravity of the situation. "And after the party," he whispers, leaning in close so only you can hear, "we'll sneak some food up here. Maybe even a bottle or two of butterbeer."

A quiet laugh bubbles up from your chest, the first genuine one of the day. The heaviness inside you lifts ever so slightly, replaced by a warmth that has nothing to do with the fire crackling in the hearth. With them, you think, maybe solitude doesn't have to mean loneliness.

#Poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders x you #Sirius black x reader #Sirius black x you #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #james potter x you #james potter x reader #marauders era #marauders au #marauders fanfic

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bobalegsanji · 2 months ago

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౨ৎ Zosan duck saga ౨ৎ

Little passion project with my sweet friend @fruityumbrella

After Zoro manages to get lost somewhere on an island (God knows when, where, or for how long) he finds a pond with 6 abandoned ducklings

He's definitely not the most knowledgeable about this, but recalls baby ducks aren't supposed to be on their own- shouldn't their mother feed them or something? To be sure, he scoops them up in his arms to get Chopper to check up on them before dropping them back in the pond (if he ever finds it again. Whatever)

The ducklings are surprisingly calm in his arms???

The moment he returns to the ship Nami first screams at him because ''where the actual fuck have you be- are those ducks???'' ''Yes.'' ''Where did you find them?!?'' ''A pond.'' ''BRING THEM BACK????''

Turns out, ducklings without a mother imprint on the first moving object they find

...

They refuse to leave him alone- putting them down on the ground on the deck for the first time resulted in very loud, unsatisfied chirping. They try to jump back into Zoro's arms (which is wayyy too high for them). The view of a now embarrassed Zoro surrounded by 6 angry ducklings who want nothing but to be back into his arms is so funny everyone (but Zoro) ends up with tears streaming down their face

It's no use trying to get them to leave. Both Chopper and Sanji refuse to leave the ducks on the island (since they've imprinted on Zoro, they'd never return to their mother and ''we'd be killing them,'' according to Chopper). They decide to keep the ducklings for the time being, soon enough they've learned independence and can leave, and it's not like 6 little ducklings are going to cause any trouble among the crew, right???

The ducklings follow Zoro everywhere. Napping on the deck? Ducklings are pushing each other to sleep on top of his chest. Eating dinner? There's now 6 baby ducks under the table, quietly snagging whatever food anyone secretly passes them (no one listens to Sanji's rant about which food is healthy for them and which not, or the dangers about overfeeding). Showering? Ducks sit in front of the door, patiently waiting for Zoro to get out again.

The biggest problem is sleeping. Zoro isn't able to sleep in his hammock anymore. The ducks can't get in and out of it themselves (they get cranky when they don't get their way), but they also refuse to sleep anywhere but on top of Zoro. Their unhappy quacks are so loud both Zoro and his 6 patrons are sent to sleep in the kitchen

Sanji is, at first, wildly unhappy with the new arrangement. He's up the earliest and stays up the latest, spending most of his time in the kitchen. His job description never included 'take care of a big, green swordsman and his 6 pets.'

As it turns out, he doesn't actually mind the ducks. They're definitely not quiet, but he enjoys the company. Zoro usually falls asleep without a care for whatever Sanji is doing, and slowly the ducks start to get more comfortable with Sanji's presence. The first time one of them waggles over to take a closer look at what Sanji's doing, he swears his heart melts.

Problem: with Zoro sleeping, and Sanji busy with cleaning and prepping food, no one has eyes for the 6 brats running loose in the kitchen

''Zoro?'' ''Hmmm, what? I'm trying to sleep and this one wants to climb on top of my fucking he-'' ''ZORO?'' ''WHAT?'' ''WHY IS THERE A DUCK IN MY COOKING POT???''

They'd quickly spend as much time with Sanji as with Zoro. A little ramp is build from floor to counter to make sure the ducklings can get up and have a proper view of whatever it is Sanji's doing (Franky made it for him after finding out about his back pain, most likely resulting from having to pick up or put down a duck every 3 minutes)

Sanji gives the ducks little baths in the kitchen sink, letting them float around for however long they want. He definitely does not sit down and stare at them for 2 hours, cooing at over how cute they are (Neither does Zoro come the kitchen inside 7 times during those 2 hours to check whether they're finally done. He absolutely doesn't miss having his 6 buddies follow him around. Nope.)

They basically end up coparenting. For nap time and outdoor time they're with Zoro, for entertainment and food they're with Sanji.

They still favour Zoro (he's still their mama in their eyes), but Sanji's at least as (if not more) present in their life. He makes sure Zoro takes good care of them when Sanji's busy, makes all of their meals, makes sure Luffy doesn't include them in some stupid game that could hurt them- it's become a fulltime job, but Sanji has started to fall in love with them so much he doesn't even mind

Zoro has no choice but to take them with him when going out in town. He's written their names on his arm in order not to forget (he's dumb and can't keep the ducks apart). Someone's like ''oh what's that?'' and he goes ''it's to not confuse my ducks?? Obviously.'' The person he's talking to is like ''... that doesn't make sense. You wrote their names down, not how to tell them apart?? Are you fucking dumb?''

Zoro gets grumpy and moody all day. Sanji's finally done with his sullen mood in the evening and demands to know what's wrong. Zoro explains, and Sanji can't believe that HE STILL CANNOT KEEP THEM APART??

''Marimo, that is NOT Neko. Neko has a WHITE spot above her left eye.'' ''This one has too!'' ' 'MARIMO, that is her RIGHT FUCKING EYE, you ABSOLUTE IMBECILE''

The ducks are SO clingy. There's constantly one in Sanji's apron pocket, one on his shoulder and at least one on the counter. Any time Zoro goes outside, there's a minimum of 4 ducks in his haramaki and one on top of his head.

Sanji's the biggest hypocrite about their rules. He's always telling Zoro to cuddle with them less, ''they're becoming adults and need to learn to grow independent!'' ''The galley is no place for a duck, take them outside while I'm cooking!'' ''NO ducks on table during dinner time.'' (He never listens to his own rules)

The crew ends up (silently) referring to Zoro as their 'mama' and Sanji as their 'papa'

Sanji has to find out the hard way. He's busy with making lunch- already annoyed at the heat and the chores and having had to make breakfast with Zoro in the fucking kitchen (who's STILL not allowed to return to the sleeping quarters), and then Usopp enters. He's holding 2 ducks, quietly talking to them to try and quiet them down: ''It's okay- shhhht, it's okay... Oh, seems like daddy's busy, lets go find mama hm?''

''Usopp, WHAT did you just say??''

Usopp can barely form a sentence with the way Sanji's glaring at him- ''well um... yknow... since ,.. well since zoros like the mom...and you take care of them too..youre kind of...well yknow...umm...luffy said it first!!''

Sanji's having an existential crisis while still elbow deep gutting fish. '''im not a dad! i wouldnt be. why would you say that? no usopp seriously why would you say that. im like the ducks cool older brother. or like. an uncle. im basically a good friend. yeah were good friends.''

''Sure...?''

Sanji and Zoro end up growing closer through their time in the kitchen (and already having 6 children). Arguments turn into conversations, turn into drinking together, turn into holding hands in the dark of night until they kiss

The kiss is better than they either could've expected, until one of the ducks gets jealous-

''This is YOUR fault, you stupid Marimo!''

''What do you mean my fault? He pecked you!!!''

''Are you fucking deranged, of course it is your fault!!! Look at him, he'd never do me any wrong if you weren't here!!''

''????!!!''

''You really have nothing to say???''

''Are we kissing or what?''

''SHUT THE FUCK UP MARIMO''

Their bickering ends up scaring the ducks. They're scattered around the ship, resulting in Sanji and Zoro quietly bickering & cooing over their lost children, searching for them together while trying not to wake anyone up

Franky sees how happy the ducks are in the kitchen sink and decides to build a pond on the deck for them

The pond ends up being a blessing and a curse. It becomes a hot spot to relax, sometimes the ducks stray over towards Zoro napping next to the pond, or one snuggles up near Robin while she's reading

Luffy also falls into it. More than once.

Zoro does too. Every time, sanji totally losing his shit because zoro emerges from the water with a flower and a duck on his head and he looks like a deranged lilypad

During cold winter nights, Sanji refuses to let the ducks sleep outside. He makes a blanket fort in the kitchen with all blankets and pillows he can find to make sure they're as comfortable as possible ( + he's in the kitchen most of the day and night, so it's always one of the warmest rooms on the Sunny)

Zoro doesn't care about it. He thinks it's useless and a waste of time, but when everyone's sleeping he still goes over to the kitchen to check up on his babies and make sure they're doing fine

He falls asleep next to the cushion fort and forget the walls aren't real. He falls right through it and ruins the fort but the ducks are fine they just climb onto him and go to sleep again

Val & me might be delusional but at least are we CUTE delusional ♡

#one piece #black leg sanji #sanji #vinsmoke sanji #zosan #one piece sanji #roronoa zoro #mugiwara no ichimi #ronoroa zoro #one piece zoro #zoro x sanji #zoro #sanji x zoro

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