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andvys · 20 days

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Dancing with our hands tied | S.H.

The Epilogue ⭐︎ We'll have a cardboard box of photos of the life we made

Warnings: none really, fluff, lots and lots of fluff, pregnancy, a little (or not so little) time jump, dad!Steve, pregnant!reader, the 'teens' are in their early twenties, proofread but... poorly, please ignore any mistakes

Pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

Word count: 5.1k+

Author's note: This is it, friends. The story is done (sob), I'm so grateful for everyone who supported this story, who commented and filled my inbox with sweet asks, I appreciate every single one of you ♡ and @hellfire--cult my love, thank you for working on this story with me, I had the best time working on all these chapters with you, I love u

Series Masterlist ⭐︎ Previous Chapter

♡

“Lego Head!”

Steve comes scrambling down the stairs, panic in his eyes at the sound of your cry, his heart pounding with worry but also with fear at the frustration in your voice.

He nearly slips on the hardwood floor as he rounds the corner into the kitchen, his hair still wet from the shower he just took after he hurried home from work. He wanted to clean the kitchen and get started on dinner before you got home but time wasn’t on his side today.

Steve doesn’t know whether he should smile out of adoration or tremble in fear at the sight of his pregnant wife, fuming at the unwashed dishes in the sink.

You look so cute, no matter the mood you are in, you are just so goddamn cute, standing in your sundress, hand over your belly, wedding ring shining under the golden light of the evening sun. The frown on your face is adorable as you stare at him with furrowed brows and downturned lips. His heart flutters so wildly in his chest, after years of marriage and kids, his feelings only intensified, they kept growing, his love deepening more and more, each passing day with you. He is so damn lucky.

He approaches you, glancing at the dishes he couldn’t get his hands on yet, he grabs your waist and pulls you closer, “I’m sorry, baby, I was gonna do them after the shower, I just got home from work–”

Your sniffle cuts him off and he instantly stops talking when he sees the tears in your eyes, your lips moving into a pout, guilt crossing your face as you stare at your loving husband.

“I’m sorry! – I know you’re tired–”

“No, no, don’t cry sweetheart, I know you had a hard day too.”

“No, I snapped at you, I’m–”

Steve can’t help but smile softly as he shakes his head, cupping your cheeks softly, he leans in and presses his lips to yours, kissing you softly, taking your mind off the dishes that drove your hormones insane.

A sigh of contentment falls from your lips, your eyes flutter shut and you melt so softly into him, placing one hand on his cheek, his stubble scratching against your palm. His scent, his body wash filling your senses and making your stomach flutter, making you feel at peace.

Steve smiles into the kiss as he feels himself calming down after the stressful day at work, your touch always brings him down, no matter how hectic and how bad a day has been, he always looks forward to coming home.

When you part from the kiss, your husband nuzzles your nose, making you giggle through the tears that sparked in your eyes. He tucks your hair behind your ears and places his large hand on your belly, his eyes glowing with nothing but love and happiness.

“Hi darling,” he whispers, greeting you properly now, he murmurs against your lips, kissing you once more.

“Hi Stevie, I missed you,” you whisper, pouting at him in a way that nearly brings him to his knees.

The smile never leaves his lips, his heart never stops to flutter. He kneels down and kisses your belly, whispering sweet nothings to his little princess.

You run your fingers through his wet hair, gazing down at him, your heart swells in your chest.

After running errands all morning and noon, you stopped by his workplace and he took you out for lunch at your favorite diner, he got you dessert too, even though it wasn’t for you as you had claimed but for the growing princess in your belly – he watched with adoration how you devoured that ice cream with such pleasure, just the way you do every night, when you’re both already in bed and a sudden craving of yours, has him jumping out of bed and tiptoeing down the stairs to get you whatever you or your little princess are asking for.

He remembers it like it was yesterday, when you announced your first pregnancy, he was so clueless and confused when you kissed him goodnight and turned your back to him, when usually, you would snuggle against him, nuzzle your nose into his neck and hold onto him tightly. He was a little hurt, even, thinking he had done something wrong to have you facing away from him but when he slid his hand under his pillow while he was staring at the back of your head and he felt something lying beneath, he furrowed his brows for a different reason as he felt the plastic touching his fingers, when he pulled it out and held it before his face, his eyebrows shot up, his eyes widened and a gasp threatened to fall from his lips as his heart started pounding wildly, excitement and giddiness settling in his stomach.

He needed to be one hundred percent sure that he was seeing correctly, so he turned on the light again, reached for the glasses he hated wearing so much, he didn’t even notice how you looked back at him with a soft smile on your face, he was too in shock about the two lines staring back at him. He knew what it was, he knew what it meant but he still needed the confirmation.

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice shaky from the uncontainable excitement. He slowly turned towards you after he ripped the covers off himself, he placed his hand on your shoulder and turned you around, “darling, light of my life, my gorgeous wife, Blondie– please tell me that this is what I think it is,” he begged, eyes pleading as they stare at you with such love.

The smile on your face, the tears in your eyes that were matching his own were enough of an answer but you nodded and whispered a soft ‘yes’, nonetheless.

“You’re– You’re pregnant?” He whispered, eyes glossy and filled with a softness that had you trembling with emotions. “We’re having a baby?” He asked as his eyes flickered to your stomach that was covered by his shirt on your body, he slowly placed his hand on your belly, while still holding the pregnancy test with shaky hands.

You answered by placing your hand on top of his, nodding again with a happy tear running down your cheek, one that he kissed away in an instant before he wrapped you in his arms, hugging you tighter than he ever has before as tears of happiness cascaded down his own cheeks while you both giggled.

“Yes, Stevie, we’re having a baby,” you said softly, kissing his neck as he buried his face in yours, hand still lingering over your belly, protectively.

He cried, he cried from joy and from love, he could not contain the excitement he was feeling. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, he wanted it from the moment you became his girl. But you both waited, waited for the perfect moment – you enjoyed your time alone with each other, you traveled around the country, stayed in your favorite cities, you spent a summer in Italy, just the two of you.

You got married pretty early on in your relationship, you both knew what you wanted, there was no point in waiting to put rings on each other’s fingers but you decided to wait with kids, well, Steve was open to having them from the start, but you weren’t ready until about three months ago – the moment you have told him that you were off birth control, he pounced on you, ready to take you in every way possible, and he did, he did it a lot, not only that night, but all the following days and weeks, he took you absolutely everywhere, at any time. You thought that he was intense before but what followed after you told him that you were ready, topped everything that you had done in the past.

He kissed your neck, your cheeks, your forehead, your nose, he covered your whole face in kisses before his lips touched your own, he made you both giggle. “I love you, baby, I love you so fucking much,” he mumbled against your lips as his tears fell down on you, his soft eyes gazed into your own as his hand cradled your belly.

“I love you, Stevie,” you whispered and brushed your fingers through his messy hair, adoring the way the glasses adorned his pretty face.

More giggles fell from your lips when he started kissing down your body before he settled between your legs, lifting your shirt, he smiled before he pressed his lips to your belly, kissing it softly as he reached for your hand, entwining his fingers with yours, he looked up into your eyes, showing nothing but love for you.

“Hey,” he whispered into your belly, “you’re probably the size of a pea right now and don’t understand a thing I’m saying.”

His lips twitched at the sound of your sweet laughter, he squeezed your hand and held on tighter.

“But hi, I’m your dad,” he whispered as another tear fell from his eye, nothing short of adoration for you and your baby, pride swelling in his chest the more reality was sinking in, “I can’t wait to meet you,” his voice getting higher, his heart beating faster, “and I love you and your mommy so much, sweetpea.” He spoke as he pressed another kiss upon your warm skin.

There was no bump yet, but he already treated your belly like there was one, so much giddiness lingered in him at the thought of your future, of your growing family.

The family that he has now.

“I missed you more, my love,” he smiles softly, feeling the urge to just lift you up into his arms and carry you up into your bedroom, get in bed with you and hold you in his arms.

“Go lay down, I’m gonna get started on dinner.”

You place your hand over his, toying with his wedding ring. You shake your head, “I can help–”

“No, baby, my two girls need to rest,” he says, smiling as he rubs your belly. “Besides, Eddie is gonna be here soon with the–”

The door is banged open before he can even finish his sentence, startling you both before Eddie’s voice sounds through the hallway.

“Children delivery!”

Eddie steps into the kitchen, like he knew you’d both be here, carrying the two boys effortlessly, the older one of them on his shoulders and the other under his arms, already grinning at the sight of you.

“Daddy, Uncle Eddie taught me how to sword fight!” William exclaims, grinning proudly at his father while his little brother babbles away.

“Uncwe Ewwie wade gookies!” Elliot smiles excitedly.

Steve grins, eyes lighting up just the way yours do, you beam at your boys, smiling brightly as Eddie sets them down and they rush over to you, hugging your legs. You lean down and kiss their foreheads, brushing back William’s wild hair that resembles Steve’s so strongly, just like the hazel in his eyes.

“Hi mommy,” he smiles at you before he kisses your belly, whispering a soft ‘hello’ to his sister as his brother imitates him, making you chuckle while your husband watches with adoring eyes.

Steve crouches down to his boys and pulls them into his arms, making both of them giggle as he smacks his lips against their cheeks, greeting them cutely.

Your best friend chuckles as he watches your youngest, how he wraps his arms back around your leg the moment Steve lets them both go, while William makes his way out of the room and brushes past Eddie, no doubt making his way upstairs into his room.

“Did you bring us some of the cookies Uncle Eddie made?” You ask, smiling at your boy.

He shakes his head, pouting cutely as he looks between you and Steve, “I ate all gookies!”

Chuckles fall from your and your husbands lips, sharing amused glances with one another before he leans down and picks up Elliot into his arms, tickling his belly, the little boy giggles loudly.

“You ate all the cookies?” Steve gasps, beaming at his kid, “you’re the cookie monster, aren’t you?”

Elliot giggles and shakes his head at his dad.

“Oh yeah,” Eddie nods with raised eyebrows, stepping closer to the three of you, “he is a little cookie monster.”

“No, Ewwie!” The little boy exclaims, hiding his face in the crook of Steve’s neck, yawning as he snuggles against his dad.

Eddie laughs as he throws his arm around your shoulder, patting your belly softly, “alright alright, you’re not the cookie monster, buddy. But your sister is, your mom can eat a whole batch of cookies nowadays.”

Steve and Elliot giggle at Eddie’s words, while you glare at your best friend who grins at you, shrugging, “what? She has a sweet tooth, just like her mom.”

Eddie winks at you, the youthfulness still so deeply in his features, the playfulness in him still there, never leaving. His hair is just as long as it was years ago, if not longer, his band t-shirts still taking up most of the space in his closet, a few more rings adorn his fingers now, more tattoos on his arm and his chest, peeking out from beneath his shirt.

“Mhmm,” your husband nods, smiling softly at you as he lets Elliot down when he starts wiggling with his feet, he runs out of the kitchen the moment his dad puts him down, following his brother upstairs.

“Robin made you carrot cake, by the way, it’s in the fridge.”

Your eyes widen, lighting up at his words. Your mouth waters instantly, stomach grumbling at the mention of your newest craving.

Eddie chuckles at the expression on your face, the wide and excited eyes resembling the ones of a kid on christmas morning.

“I’m gonna kiss Robin.”

“Uh oh,” Eddie laughs, staring at Steve who frowns at you playfully, “be careful, Harrington, Robin knows how to steal girls.”

“Nobody is stealing my girl,” Steve shakes his head, wrapping his arm around your waist, he brings you closer and kisses your temple, “she’s mine.”

You place your hand on your husband’s chest, nuzzling your face into his shoulder.

“All yours, Lego Head.”

Eddie snorts at the nickname you have been using again lately, teasing Steve with it, every chance you get, but your husband only shakes his head with a smile on his face as his soft eyes gaze down into yours just as lovingly as they did back then, if not more.

It’s been seven years, almost eight, that you and Steve had found your way to each other after denying the bond that had always been there, seven years of this, of lovesick smiles and a bond that is unexplainable to anyone who never experienced a love like yours. You and Steve share something otherworldly, almost like you were made for each other, like you were made with each other, you got something that nothing could ever come between, absolutely nothing, not even death – Eddie is convinced.

Wherever one goes, the other will follow.

He sees the love you share, he sees the way your eyes speak to one another, how sometimes, neither of you has to use words to know what the other wants or needs, there is an understanding between you, no matter what happens, no matter what is going on, no matter the peace or the distress in your lives, you got each other and as long as you do, you both will be okay.

The vows you shared on your wedding day were nothing but truthful and honest words spoken from your hearts, your souls. No emptiness behind them, no promises to ever be broken but ones to keep not in force but in nature, nothing but love and adoration in your hearts for the other – maybe a slight possessiveness but only a healthy amount, a good kind.

Yours and Steve’s wedding will always be something that Eddie looks back at with joy and humor because you weren’t freaking out, neither was Steve, you were both calm, both at peace, both giddy and excited for the day you had been waiting for.

But Eddie, he was freaking out and so was Robin, both excited for their best friends but emotional at best.

Eddie cried when he saw you in your dress, he walked you down the aisle with a blurry vision, tears he tried to blink away were falling. You and Steve giggled through your own tears at your best friend who placed your hand into your fiance’s palm like an emotional father, not ready to see his little girl on the altar.

Eddie is so deeply lost in his thoughts as he stares at you both with a smile on his face, he doesn’t even hear the doorbell, only when you leave the kitchen, and Steve nudges his shoulder, does he snap out of it.

“You tired from babysitting all day, Munson?”

Eddie snorts, grumbling under his breath as he cracks his back.

“You better not make me babysit six kids in the future, or I swear on my uncle–”

“You love my kids, Munson, stop whining.”

“That’s right, I bet my favorite one is gonna be the girl, I just know she’s gonna be a little rockstar, a metalhead like her favorite uncle,” Eddie grins proudly.

Steve rolls his eyes, shaking his head in amusement.

“Are you sure you’re gonna be her favorite?” He asks as he gestures to his boys running down the stairs when they both step into the hallway to see who rang the doorbell.

“Max!” William smiles excitedly, running up to her to greet her, ready to talk her ear off about his day with Uncle Eddie. His brother giggles, throwing himself into Lucas’s arms who picks him up with a smile on his face.

“Hey little Steve,” Lucas jokes as he ruffles Elliot’s hair, “how are you buddy?”

Eddie sighs, placing his hand over his heart, a dramatic yet playful look residing on his face.

“I thought I was the favorite.”

Steve pats Eddie’s shoulder, “you’ll live.”

“Hey red,” Eddie calls out to his ‘step’ sister who nods along to William’s words, a smile upon her face. “How’s little red holding up in there?”

She scrunches her nose up, placing her hand on her small bump, “she’s making me nauseous.”

Lucas nods with wide eyes, “mhm and very hangry.”

Steve and Eddie chuckle while she glares at the three of them.

“Don’t worry, the nausea will pass,” you assure her, knowing just how awful the nausea can be in the first few months, how the morning sickness can drive you up the wall. Steve knows it too, he found you crouched over the toilet one too many times but he had always done such a good job at taking care of you, always there to pull your hair out of your face and rub your back, even when you told him to get out of the room and save himself from seeing you that way, like he would ever leave you to deal with anything by yourself. – He cooked for you, even took it upon himself to learn how to bake to satisfy your cravings, he never came home empty handed, he still doesn’t, he does everything to sweeten your day, absolutely everything. Not because you’re asking for it, you never would, not because he feels like he has to, no, he wants to, he wants to see the smile on your face, he wants to love on you, he loves to spoil you.

“Yeah, Blondie is the expert, she knows all about it, she’s only got like what? Three more pregnancies to go?” Your best friend cackles, making Steve’s cheek go red as the metalhead reminds him of the drunken night he told him that he would put six babies into you.

Max and Lucas both chuckle while Steve groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You’re doing good with it so far, you’re already halfway through!” Lucas grins, wiggling his eyebrows between you and your husband, gesturing to your bump, while Elliot’s big eyes flicker back and forth curiously.

“Daddy bought me a new skateboard!” William exclaims, tugging at Max’s hand as he completely ignores the conversation happening in the room.

“He did?” Max smiles down at him.

“Yeah! Let’s go!” He drags her away, excitedly, beckoning Lucas to come with him as well, to which he chuckles, still holding Elliot in his arms as he follows the little boy and his girlfriend, their voices echoing in the living room.

Steve wears a smile on his lips, his eyes following them until they step out into the backyard. Tilting his head back to you, his eyes soften only further, he pushes himself off the wall and makes his way towards you, reaching his hand out to yours, he takes it softly and pulls you into his arms, kissing your temple, his chest flutters when he breathes in your sweet scent.

A content sigh falls from your lips as you lean into your husband, resting your head on his chest and wrapping an arm around his waist.

“Are you feeling alright, honey?” He murmurs, looking down at you with gentle eyes as his palm rubs your belly.

“Yeah,” you smile, nuzzling further into him.

“Right,” Eddie clears his throat, pretending to be annoyed by the affection you’re both displaying (constantly), “I’m gonna get going, I’m taking my honey out on a date.”

“Ooh, where are you taking her?” You ask.

“Nothing special, we’re going to the movies and then we’ll get some dinner at Enzo’s.”

“That’s nice, Eddie,” Steve shakes his head at him, any date, any moment is special when it’s spent with the right person, he knows it.

“Yeah, I love a movie date and dinner!”

Eddie chuckles at your enthusiasm, “yeah, you only do it like every week,” he huffs in amusement.

“We love it,” Steve shrugs, looking down at you with loving eyes.

“I know you do and well, I do too so I’m gonna go now,” Eddie says, patting Steve on his shoulder before he ruffles your hair and pinches your cheek, “take care of yourself, mama and listen to your hubby when he tells you to rest.”

Steve chuckles at the way you slap your best friend’s hand away, glaring at him.

“I get enough of rest–”

“No, you don’t, honey,” Steve shakes his head, “can’t rest for a single second, you always gotta do something.”

You pout at him, making his eyes soften only further. He leans down and presses his lips to yours before you can protest.

“That’s my cue,” Eddie mumbles, he opens the front door, shouting a goodbye to the boys and to Max and Lucas. He winks at the both of you, grinning when you pull away from one another, “bye lovebirds, enjoy your free time while your two babysitters are keeping your nuggets busy.” He wiggles his brows and cackles, walking out of the door with an amused look on his face, he looks back one more time before he shuts the door, leaving you both to yourselves.

Giggles and voices come from the garden, the sun is still high up in the sky, warmth seeping into the house through the open doors and windows. One peek out in the backyard, you can see William showing his newest tricks to Max while Elliot plays basketball with Lucas, squealing and giggling every time Lucas picks him up so he can shoot the ball into the net.

“Hmm,” Steve hums with a smile on his face, positioning himself behind you, he wraps his arms around your waist, placing one hand under your belly and the other on top of yours, he leans down and props his chin up on your shoulder after kissing it, “let’s order dinner tonight and just relax.”

You lean your head back against his chest, tilting your head to the side, you look up at him, eyes big and soft – something that still drives him crazy.

“Relax?” You giggle when you see the smirk on his lips.

He nuzzles his face into your neck, kissing you softly, “I just want you all to myself for a moment, I missed you all day, darling.”

Your eyelashes flutter, a sweet sigh falls from your lips when he continues to pepper your neck in kisses, you wrap your hand around his wrist, giving it a squeeze, “I missed you too, Stevie,” you whisper.

“Ten minutes, baby, I want ten minutes with my beautiful wife,” he murmurs against your neck, sucking teasingly, making you melt into his arms further.

Your heart flutters in your chest, a small but needy whine escapes you, “ten minutes,” you whimper.

Steve doesn’t need to be told twice, he smacks his lips against your skin once more before he turns you around and he cups your cheeks, leaning down, his nose touches yours, his lips brush against your own, “I love you so much, Blondie,” he teases you with the nickname before he kisses you softly, making you smile against him.

You place your palm above his fluttering heart, resting your other on the back of his neck, “I love you so much, Lego Head,” you tease him back.

He chuckles, leaning his forehead against yours, his soft eyes stare into yours lovingly. He reaches his hand up to your necklace, the one you haven’t taken off since he got it for you all these years ago.

“Where are your glasses, honey?” You ask, sliding your hand from his neck to cup his cheek, thumb caressing his cheekbone.

Steve scrunches his nose up, “I don’t like them.”

He didn’t even like the reading glasses he needed at first, he refused to wear them, claiming that he didn’t even need them. He was squinting his eyes like crazy, it was clear that he struggled to make out the words in the books he was reading, eventually he caved and started wearing them.

But now he needs them for more than just reading and he hates it, he only puts them on when he’s driving and takes them off for everything else, throws them into the drawer in the nightstand and lets them sit there until he has to drive somewhere again.

“Well, I think that you look very handsome wearing them,” you smile, licking your lips as your eyes flicker between his soft eyes and his very kissable mouth. “Very, very handsome,” you whisper and blink at him, innocently.

Your husband smirks at the suggestive tone in your voice, his cheeks heat up, warmth surging through his body.

“Oh, yeah? Well then, I gotta put them on for you… right now.”

A squeal almost falls from your lips when he picks you up suddenly, carrying you up the stairs, bridal style, just like on the day you got married and just like on many occasions after.

Steve kisses your cheek on the way up, grinning at you excitedly, lovingly. His heart swells when you hold onto him tighter, laying your head on his shoulder and nuzzling your nose into his neck.

He adores you, he adores you so much, if his heart could explode from all the love he holds for you, then it would’ve burst by now. He always knew that he loved hard, before you got together, months and months after dating, but even now after so many years together, after creating this beautiful family, he keeps on falling, loving you harder, each day.

It’s all he ever wanted.

And you both had to go through such darkness to get here, he spent so many nights wondering if you’d both be here if things never happened the way they did, back then. – He hates to think of a life without you in it, he despises the thought with all his being.

“Blondie?” He whispers after sitting down on your king sized bed, with you on his lap.

“Yes?” Your voice is only above a whisper, soft and gentle.

Steve grabs your chin tenderly, he looks into your loving eyes and smiles.

“I would go through it all again if it meant I’d get to be where I am, right now. I would go through the darkness, through Vecna, through the upside down… I would do it all over again if I’d get all this, you, in the end.”

There are tears in his eyes and in yours, not of sadness, only of love.

“I would do it all over again too, Stevie,” you whisper with no hesitation.

“Yeah?” He asks softly, gazing at you with teary eyes.

“Yeah,” you nod and lean your forehead against his, “anything for my love.”

His cheeks grow pink every time you call him that, heart beating wildly in his chest, he places his hand on your belly, stroking it softly.

“Anything?”

“Mhmm, anything.”

“Be my forever,” he whispers softly, lips ghosting over yours in a smile, eyes big and sparkly – like you aren’t his forever already.

“You already are, silly,” you peck his lips, making him grin against you, “you’re my forever.”

He cups your cheeks fully now, kissing you stronger and deeper, holding you like he will never let you go – and he won’t, he won’t ever let go.

“And you are mine, Blondie.” Steve kisses you again and again. “My forever.”

It’s hard to believe you were once behind one of the mall’s pillars, hiding from his view, watching him serve ice cream in that stupid sailor outfit while you tried to earn up the courage to talk to him, to really talk to him for once in your life.

It’s hard to believe that he was once looking at you from afar, watching you walk through the hallways without glancing twice towards the same person, wishing you would look at him at least once.

Hard to believe that you two never realized you were performing a stupid dance, be it around each other or with each other for years and years, and now that dance is over. Is it? No. You are still dancing, but now, it’s synchronized, magnetized, and a dance that cannot be broken.

A dance that now is shared with multiple people, with family you thought you would never have again, with family he thought he never deserved, with friends that stuck to you both like glue, and with your children that giggle every time you twirl around one another.

But just because it is hard to believe, doesn’t mean that it would’ve never happened, that it shouldn’t have happened, that it wasn’t supposed to happen. You would have found your way to each other, even without the darkness that pushed you into each other’s arms, the darkness that allowed you to find the happiness and love that you share with each other now.

Forever. And ever… And ever. In this universe, in the next, and the rest to come.

The End.

♡

@prettyboyeddiemunson @mysticmunson @taintedcigs @ibellcipem @joekeerysmoles @thecreelhouse @maroon-cardigan @sherrylyn0628 @corrodedcorpses @munson-mjstan @moon-flowerrs @munsonlore @agirlwholovesrockstars

#dwoht -- epilogue #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things angst

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go6jo · 1 year

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(one can only truly feel with their eyes closed) s.gojo

it’s three in the morning and satoru is standing outside your bedroom door, pinching his bottom lip in between his fingers while anxiously awaiting your arrival. you should’ve been back before midnight and there is something unfamiliar stirring inside him, something that is rendering him restless. there is a heavy lump on his throat that is making it hard to swallow and he can feel himself starting to feel sick.

satoru was born bearing the curse of atlas, the world weighing a little too heavy on his shoulders ever since he was little. the body of a child is a frail one and satoru had been too scrawny at the time, bones too fragile to handle all of that weight by himself. he’d fallen on his knees one too many times and had struggled to stand up on his own until he had grown to become something akin to a god, one who barely even knew fear.

satoru reaches for the phone in the pocket of his sweatpants, waiting for something, a call, a text even - anything to let him know that you’re okay.

however, his head is quick to turn at the sound of heavy footsteps echoing throughout the entire floor when he catches sight of your silhouette emerging from the shadows on the other end of the poorly lit hall. he feels his heart cave in on his chest for you, eyes softening and full of compassion when he notices the sole of your feet dragging laboriously against the floor, weary and sore after being away for so long and having just traveled all the way back here, back to him.

ten days to be precise. that's how long you’ve been gone. and when you manage to make your way along the seemingly endless corridor, so very tired from your lengthy mission overseas, satoru can visibly see your body cease its fight against gravity as you let yourself collapse into him. he is so quick to guide your arms that had fallen limp by your sides to wrap themselves around him, pulling you closer, craving the proximity after having longed for your touch every day for the past week and a half. he follows it by looping his stronger ones around you, offering you the stability you need, holding you and welcoming you back with a quiet good girl whispered to the crown of your head.

in the quietude of the moment, while trying to recover from the fretful state he had induced himself into, satoru realizes now that fear has become a constant in his life.

“you’re late” he threads his fingers through your hair, soothing away your fatigue though he thinks he might have just lulled you to sleep because you’re standing so still, breathing so softly. at your lack of response, his hand cups the back of your head tilting it upwards and your lips begin to part, ready to protest but it’s only then, when you meet his gaze, that you become aware of the distress graven on his handsome features, brows furrowed and bottom lip swollen with the indents of his remaining anxiety, teeth merciless as they tried to chew away the nerves in his system.

satoru is always so good at hiding his feelings. he might’ve been terrified out of his mind, but hardly anything gives it away. his voice never wavers when he speaks and his hands have such a steady grip on you that his inner turmoil would’ve almost gone undetected. almost. because concern is so easily discernible in his eyes - his eyes are so honest, as honest as satoru gets. they have always let on more than his words — they’re his biggest strength and yet his biggest weakness, his blindfold keeping any vulnerability from seeping through.

“i know but i'm here” you close your eyes when his thumb rubs the spot between your eyebrows “my flight got delayed and i didn’t wanna wake you up with a phone call”

“i wasn’t sleeping” not until i know you’re safe.

“i’m alright, satoru. im here” you two speak in whispers like two kids sharing a secret, your voice barely audible as you lean your cheek against his chest, a hand rubbing circles over his heart.

a placid wave of silence envelops the two of you in its calm embrace as you take your time to touch, to grab and to squeeze — to let your hands get acquainted with each other’s skin again — you swear you feel him shiver against you, when you caress the skin behind his ear, where you know it’s sensitive.

“let’s get inside, baby.”

you nod against his chest and squeeze him in your arms one last time before you pull away to unlock your bedroom door. you lace your fingers together with his and pull him along, dropping your luggage somewhere in a corner and not even bothering to turn on the lights instead guiding him towards the bed that you’ve shared during so many other nights before — so eager to be cradled in his arms, to drift off in the warmth of his presence. but when satoru drops his head to your shoulder from behind, you halt all movements, stopping in your tracks.

he doesn’t say a word, just moves the palm of his hand gingerly up the skin of your exposed arm, only stopping where the strap of your dress sits on your body, gripping the fabric in his fist, begging to see you, whole. to make sure there is not some invisible force holding you together and that you won't fall apart under his fingers. he still touches you so carefully as if you will.

for a long time now, satoru has worried that the eyes he has relied on throughout his entire life might fail him sooner rather than later. reality can be deceiving and he has grown to harbor a certain skepticism towards it. after all, his best friend had met his demise at his own two hands, had taken his last breath in his arms, however, that unfaithful day in shibuya there he stood, intact - alive. satoru is now imbedded with a constant feeling of uncertainty, doubting what otherwise he would’ve believed to be the undeniable truth.

you lift your hand to rest over his, loosening the grip he has on the fabric of your garment before you slide both straps off your shoulders, letting your dress fall to the ground and revealing your partially nude body to satoru’s prying gaze. he closes his eyes with a sigh that makes the hairs on the back of your neck raise in anticipation. he brushes a few strands away before he presses a kiss to the mound of your neck where your spine protrudes your flesh, where your skin is most tender and delicate, feeling the subtle bumps of your skin against his lips — the way your body reacts to him proof that you’re not just some hallucination. that you’re here. that you’re alive and well.

he figures he is so much more in tune with his surroundings whenever he’s not looking. his eyes are closed shut yet the way you shudder under him when he runs the tip of his finger up the curve of your spine, the little sounds you make, the gasp that unintentionally escapes your lips when he lays the most gentle of kisses on the shell of your ear — he’d know you anywhere, even with his eyes closed. he knows the way you feel, the way you sound, the way you smell. even blind, his other four senses would still lead him to you.

he touches you until your skin starts feeling feverish under his fingers, wishes you’d just melt into him and would fill in every crevice in his body until he’s so completely covered in you he can barely breathe. and when he needs more, he carries you to bed in his arms then lies you down in the white linen sheets. he reaches for the back of his shirt and tugs it off before taking the spot next to you, yearning for the feeling of his skin against yours.

he kisses your collarbone, left then right, worshiping you whole, paying equal attention to every part of your body, then dips lower to kiss over your sternum. he loves on the freshly inflicted wounds on your skin then proceeds to run his tongue over the newly healed scar that runs diagonally on the flesh of your stomach — your taste, that, too, he has memorized by heart.

“i always come back looking worse than when i left” and it's supposed to be a lighthearted joke because you're smiling and your tone is somewhat playful but it makes satoru wonder if you think he loves you any less because of it.

sometimes it’s hard baring yourself to satoru like this, he knows it. your scar ridden body a striking contrast to his almost pristine, untouched one. however, it’s on nights like this one where you feel closest to him, laying bare your insecurities to him and, in return, he entrusts you with his — more often than not as he impulsively lets them escape his lips in the form of strangled moans against the sweaty skin of your neck, telling you he loves you. don’t ever leave. i don’t know what i’d do if i lost you, too.

“you returned, baby. that’s all that matters.” he utters against your belly then comes to rest on your chest, ear pressed atop your heart.

satoru has grown fond of the sound of your pulse lulling him to sleep, slow and steady. he unwraps his arms from around you, moving his hands up your sides until they settle around your ribs, feeling the way your lungs fill up with air, his head moving up and down, in sync with your heaving chest. he smiles fondly to himself, every heartbeat, every breath you take a reminder of the life flowing inside you.

he looks up, eyes searching for your face after a few minutes have gone by since you stopped playing with his hair. he had wanted to protest but then he takes in the image of you, mouth slightly agape, a subtle frown on your face — an angel lying under him. so fragile, so innocent.

you're sound asleep and satoru is overcome with the intensity of the sheer adoration he feels towards you when he comes to the realization that you had felt so at peace in his arms it had only taken you a couple minutes to doze off. it is as if your body reacts to his presence on its own, telling you that it's okay to let your guard down, that it’s safe around him. to him, there is no bigger privilege than to know his touch brings you such tranquility — that he’s your safe haven.

upon further inspection, however, as his eyes linger on you for a little longer, there’s a cold shiver that makes its way up satoru’s spine when he notices how still you are, barely even moving. apart from the subtle rise and fall of your chest, you’re so inert, so lethargic. so lifeless.

and suddenly it is as if there is not enough oxygen in the room as he finds himself gasping for air, lungs growing heavier by the minute as he starts to drown in mirages of your inanimate body in his arms, hands clammy and fingers digging into the flesh of your ribs instinctively, out of desperation, as if he’s trying to stay afloat.

he calls out your name once, and he would’ve felt bad for waking you up but, right now, he can’t even seem to think straight. he could be so selfish at times still you never resented him for it. so he calls for you again.

you don’t answer at first, his voice too weak to even pull you out of sleep. satoru hoists himself up on the bed, lying sideways next to you, his body looming over yours as he brushes the strands of hair that are sticking to your forehead away from your face — your complexion looks so much paler under the moonlight.

“baby.” he calls in between heavy breaths, eyes frantic searching for something. anything. this time you stir in your sleep, turning around and nuzzling into the crook of his neck as if seeking for the heat of his body on instinct alone. he sighs releasing some of the tension inside him “baby.” though there is still a hint of urgency in his voice.

“im sleepy, satoru” he can barely hear you as you bury yourself deeper into his neck.

“i know, baby. i know” he tries to soothe you, cradling your head closer to him but pulling you away from him just as quick, grabbing your cheeks in between the palms of his hands and gently holding your head up to take a look at you instead. your eyes remain closed, still so heavy with sleep.

“just need you to say my name.” it sounds like a desperate plea.

“satoru.” you barely even manage to mumble as you lean deeper into his touch, lips brushing against the sensitive skin on the inside of his hand. moving only on instinct still, too drowsy to even make sense of what is happening, to notice his agony.

“that’s it.” he pecks you on the lips “again.” he is trailing kisses across your cheeks, his breath heavy on your skin when he begs you in a quivering voice “please."

the feeling of his hands shivering against you it’s what gradually rouses you, opening your eyes only to be met with his wide-eyed gaze, pupils fully blown out in the dark, alert with fear.

you know how he gets, it isn’t the first time this happens yet it never fails to alarm you. you’d seen it in his eyes many times before and you’d seen it again earlier tonight, when you arrived, tenuous yet just waiting for the smallest trigger to so easily turn into something out of control.

it's as if he's suddenly put in a trance and nobody can pull him out of it. his hands start wandering everywhere and in a rather frenetic way, feeling around your skin as if he has gone blind. hands fumbling to hold whatever is within their reach, clenching whatever it is you're wearing in his fists, searching for something that you can’t quite understand.

you never know what to say, you can only hold him in hopes it will pass. you hold him and coddle him, whisper words of reassurance in his ear in hopes that you can be as much of a source of comfort to him as he is to you.

he apologizes afterwards, he always does. apologizes for needing you so much that sometimes it drives him close to insanity. then he always whispers a thank you from under his breath, thank you for letting me rely on you, but he barely ever does, only when he so desperately needs it — when it’s him lending others his strength, being relied on, who says thank you to him.

you sit up in bed, extending your hand towards him, waiting for him to take it. you pick him up when he does and you let a hand wrap around the back of his head, guiding him to rest on your shoulder.

“satoru, satoru, satoru.” you whisper against the shell of his ear while stroking his hair. he thinks he could fall sleep right here, like this.

please, lean on me, too.

i got you, you don’t have to be strong all the time.

if you let me, i can be strong for the both of us. satoru thinks he knows what you’re trying to tell him.

“i’ll say it as many times as you need.”

once again, he is so overwhelmed by his profound infatuation that it is as if his love has grown a will of its own, as if it has grown fangs when his teeth sink, unwarranted, into the skin of your shoulder, love wishing to seep itself deep into your bloodstream. “want you whole.”

“so greedy.” you wince quietly, nonchalantly against his snowy hair and he runs the tip of his nose up the side of your neck.

he keeps on nibbling on the tender skin of your jaw, as if he’s hungry and trying to prove a point. that if he so wished to, if he was greedy enough, vile enough, he’d devour you full.

“i'm the greediest, baby” for what is love if not greed. is it not wanting to consume the other person and let yourself be consumed in return? for his entire life, satoru has known nothing but an insatiable hunger. always wanting more, always needing more. gluttonous for more, more, more. in the end, he always managed to get what he wants and he doesn’t hold back, you never asked him to either.

he knows he owns you wholly, that you placed your soul, mind and body fully on the palm of his hand and he doesn’t think he could ever settle for less. doesn’t think his hunger would ever be satiated with less than a handful of you.

he places a trail of kisses that goes down to your shoulder again and he pulls away from your skin with one last kiss to the spot where he left a mark. a mark that is so unlike any other in your body. one that comes from love.

“i'm sorry that i need you so much” he envelops you in the tightest of embraces, touching his heart with yours.

he wishes you understand that he’s apologizing for so many other things, too. he’s sorry that he can’t give himself to you the same way you’ve given yourself to him. you’ve always kept your heart so willingly open to him yet it seems that he only ever allows you a glimpse into the heart inside his chest on nights like this, when fear holds him in it’s strong, relentless grip or when he’s falling apart at the feeling of being inside in you, body panting above yours, too lost in his own pleasure. only then does he allow himself to be vulnerable with you, spilling all of his heart's content into your distracted ears — when he thinks you’re far too gone to listen, to truly acknowledge his feelings — but you treasure every single moment of fragility of his, for they are so scarce, listening attentively even when he thinks you don’t.

“say my name one last time” he breathes against your ear.

here, in these sheets, satoru pretends to forget his name and the burden that inescapably comes with it. he forgets the world needs him and lets himself need you instead, just this once. — just this once, he’ll pretend to be the weak one, the one who needs saving and finds a shelter in your arms.

“satoru…” your words are spoken barely above a whisper, like they’re meant just for him.

“again” he connects his lips with yours and holds the back of your neck with one hand, the other resting on your lower back for support as he dips both of you down onto the mattress.

and you say it. again. and then again. not because he asks you to but because satoru knows how to get what he wants. he pries his name out of your lips as he trails open mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts, forces it out of you in the form a laughter as he nibbles on the inside of your thighs, tickling you with his breath and ultimately earns it in moan that you cry as a prayer when he sinks down on the mattress and makes a home in between your legs — until you're chanting his name over and over again, sobbing that you love him, you love him, you love him.

he smiles to himself, does it half smugly, half earnestly. satoru is now twenty eight and his shoulders a little lighter, the world fitting all too perfectly in this queen sized bed.

#tw suggestive #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #.mine #gojo

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jamespottersdaisy · 1 year

Text

We could slow dance to rock music, kiss while we do it.

Sirius Black x fem!reader.

"All you have to do is to make the first move, and I'll take care of the rest," he said and smirked.

“Fuck you,” you breathed before pulling him in by the collar.

warnings - drinking, mentions and allusions to sex, no explicit description but still it's pretty obvious that i'm talking about sex so i don't want minors around, fwb?

6.2k

author's note - i like this, but also don't. english is not my first language so beware <3

Your eyebrows were creased, straining the muscles around your temples. You would feel the slowly-forming headache if you weren’t too deep in thought, glaring at the parchment before you.

Stars, lines, moon, and a blank space. A blank space which you should fill.

It wasn’t supposed to be that hard, not if you already had an O.W.L degree, yet somehow your nerves were tense, and you could feel your angry breath against your lips. You were aware of your heartbeat and your shirt's fabric on your skin.

Maybe you should’ve just gone to sleep. It would be nice to lie on the soft bed, and bury yourself under the heavy blanket. Slowly relaxing to the warmth, closing your eyes and dreaming…

No. You had a star chart to finish.

Thus, you groaned and started abusing your poorly-overworked brain once more.

You drew and erased and drew again. You took a break to rest your fingers, messaged your temple, and you drew once more. You even measured the distance between two stars before drawing yet again.

You were almost finished when a chortle echoed from the stairs.

It sounded closer and closer with every second, yet it wasn’t accompanied by anything. Whoever the person that was wandering around at…

You checked the clock.

Three in the morning.

Whoever was wandering around at three in the morning, he was alone. What was he laughing at then?

You didn’t need to wonder more as your head snapped at the stairs instinctively when you felt his shadow.

“Black?”

Sirius was staggering down the stairs with a big grin on his face. He frowned a bit when he found your frame crunched up behind a table.

“Why are you up?” he asked, and you could barely comprehend the words.

“Studying,” you said, “Why are you up?”

He shrugged and tripped over, supporting himself from the walls. Another chuckle left his lips.

You tried not to laugh at his state.

“Are you drunk?”

He offered you a belittling look, which you were sure emerged because of the intoxication.

“No. Do I seem drunk?”

His long raven hair was loose, tousled around his face. His eyes were glassy, and a hazy grin was embracing his lips. You tried not to stare at his jawline.

“Yeah, you do.”

“Well, I am not drunk, so,” Sirius threw himself at the sofa and winced when his head hit its arm. “Perhaps a bit tipsy.”

“How did you even manage to sneak alcohol in?”

You were sure they didn’t leave alcohol lying around in the castle, and nor did they serve it during dinner. Your question seemed to only amuse him more.

“Ask no questions, hear no lies,” he drawled, turning his head at you. “What are you studying?”

His outstretched hand pointed to the parchment before you, and you shrugged.

“Star chart.”

“Did you find me?”

You smiled and arched a brow at him. Little did he know he was the only thing you could think about when you were looking at the star named ‘Sirius’.

“You’re the brightest, how could I not?”

He hummed and stared at the ceiling. You turned back at the paper before you and tried to focus.

Sirius’s presence didn’t render focusing any easy. You were hyper-aware of anything he did and everything you did. You could feel him cast spells with his wand, fetching a chess piece or flying a bar of chocolate around. You could feel your leg bouncing up and down and the urge to stare at him nagging you.

It wasn’t your fault that Sirius Black was beautiful.

Jet black hair cascaded to his shoulders, tired grey eyes cutting into your soul like a knife. His sharp bone structure only complimented more to his mischievous grin. The way he carried himself around in the hallways would ensnare your breath, and the wry smile his lips crafted would glisten your stomach.

Sometimes you would find yourself observing the way he carried out idlest tasks, and you would feel drawn to the way his long fingers played with a pen or the way he slicked his hair back from his face. Occasionally, he would catch you staring, and his lips would curl into a sly grin.

You might not fancy him or bear feelings for him, but you definitely found him attractive.

“When do you think you’ll be done?”

You flinched at his dulcet tone, averting your head at his slouched stature. His eyes were still on the ceiling.

“In a few minutes, why?”

“I’m bored,” he finally glanced at you. “I’ve been waiting for you for almost an hour.”

“It’s been roughly twenty-five minutes since you’ve come down,” you said, swallowing the words for ‘Why are you waiting for me?’

“Same thing,” he shrugged and called you again. “Be quick, come on.”

You didn’t remember what you scribbled down on the paper, but you were sure they were all wrong. You merely got it over with to walk up and sit next to him.

Sirius sat up, offering you space on the sofa. You placed yourself a bit away from him and stared at his face. He stared back at you. You didn’t blink away. Neither did he.

Finally, you got bored.

“You said you were waiting for me–”

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

You made a confused sound at him. What was with intoxicated Sirius? Sober Sirius wouldn’t ask this to you.

“You were waiting for me to ask this?”

“No, I just forgot what I was gonna say,” he nodded several times, eyelids getting heavy. “So, I thought I wouldn’t keep you waiting.”

“You’re a bit tipsy, and you've already started forgetting what you were gonna say?”

“Why are you asking the facts as questions? It’s the second time you’ve done that tonight.”

You were looking more bemused than before now. Sirius must’ve seen it that he started laughing. You didn’t comprehend what was going on in his head.

“You don’t even notice doing it, do you?”

“Sirius, you sure you alright? You haven’t smacked your head on a wall or something?”

He looked around thoughtfully.

“Remus did smack his book to my head an hour ago.”

“You should go to bed,” you got up, offering him your hand. “You’re talking gibberish.”

“I’m good,” he shook his head, grinning up at you while sinking deeper into the sofa. “We have just started talking.”

“Well, I want to sleep,” you grabbed his hand and dragged him. “Get your arse up.”

He was heavier than he looked; you were having a hard time dragging him up on his feet. You were having a hard time getting yourself up on your feet, too, when he pulled you into his lap by your intertwined hands.

“What are you doing?” you hissed, feeling Sirius’s fingers on your back. You were awfully conscious of his touch and your placement on his lap.

“You haven’t answered my question yet.”

“Sirius,” you grit your teeth, trying to raise yourself. He clicked his tongue when you squirmed, giving you a disapproving look.

“Don’t move too much,” he said, and you felt his grip on your back tightening.

You wanted to get up but didn’t want to feel another…friction.

“What question?” you asked to sway the topic and the attention to something else. Something else that wouldn’t heat up your core or wouldn’t sweat your palms. You didn’t even remember the question.

“Do you have a boyfriend?”

“No,” you blurted out and pushed yourself up. Sirius bit down his lip when you did, and you chose to ignore the rasping sound from his throat. You were sure you were sweating.

“Good night, Black.”

You turned your heels and almost sprinted to the stairs for the girl's dorm, but a resonant tone grasped your attention.

“Wait, you’re not gonna help me?”

You groaned and halted your steps, ready to strangle him. He had a feigned smile on his lips when you turned away, and for a moment, you were eager to leave him there to his own devices.

“You didn’t accept my help when I offered it in the first place.”

“Offer again, come on,” he dragged out the words, signalling that he was indeed too inebriated to handle himself.

Thus, you sighed and strode back, hauling him from his arm. He shifted his weight to you, and you were sure he did it on purpose.

“I’m not carrying you, Sirius, just helping you out,” you reminded him, but to no avail. He simply glanced at you with hollow eyes and back at the stairs of the boy's dorm.

The smell of his cologne enticed you, but you managed to bury the butterflies back into their graves. You attempted to drown the screeches in your mind’s walls that echoed, nudging you to heed the proximity between your bodies. His warm breath hitting your cheek didn’t lend a hand to your endeavours of putting a leash on your racing thoughts.

You headed to the stairs, ambling because of Sirius’s weight. Once you approached them, you groaned, earning a chuckle from the boy.

“Help me out here, I can’t carry you all by myself,” the moment the words left your lips, you felt him pull a part of his heft and lift a step.

You were grateful, but it lasted a second. You felt burned on top of your body as you two climbed the stairs– well, mostly, you climbed both of you.

With every step, you felt your muscles tense up, and your breath deepened. When you diverted your eyes to Sirius, the same warm breath caressed your lips. He was watching you this whole time, listening to the voices you were making.

His Adam's apple moved up and down when your eyes fell to his lips, and your breath hitched when his hand on your shoulder touched your hair.

You had to remind yourself that he was drunk. No matter how much his touch ignited your skin or how much his darkened eyes burned deep in your core with desire, he was drunk. He wouldn’t even remember what was happening at that very moment.

What was happening, again?

Oh, nothing. Sirius had simply leaned in and left only an inch between your lips. You simply exhaled deeply into his lips, giving away how much he was affecting you.

Only a bit more, and your lips would touch, your body would flame up, and your heart would burst with lust.

He was drunk.

You inhaled and stepped back. You didn’t look back at him, not until you arrived at your destination. You were expecting that you would have to carry him inside the room, too, but Sirius pushed himself off you and stood on his legs.

“Cheers, love,” he said playfully, his eyes still lost in somewhere between sobriety and drunkenness. You watched him step back, put his hand to the door handle, and open it with a scowl.

“You could walk?! Why did you make me carry you?!”

He simply grinned before closing the door.

You were agitated for the next two days. Mainly because lessons were hopping on your nerves and because Sirius hadn’t acknowledged that night. The possibility that he had forgotten things was taunting you.

You wouldn’t mind it if you two weren’t almost about to kiss. Neither had you paid attention to him much before nor had he to you. It wouldn’t be much of a fuss for your mind if it were before. But it wasn’t.

It wasn’t simply before, and you were starting to notice too many little things about him.

He would huff at the strand of hair before his eyes when cutting an ingredient. He would poke out the tip of this tongue between his lips when he was too focused on something. He had a mole right under his right eye, but it was too tiny to take notice.

All these new details would fumble your concentration.

Thus, when you two were partnered up in Potion’s class, you were frowning most of the time. The other part of the time, you were confused about what to do next for the damned potion.

“Did you add the sloth brain?” you asked Sirius, much to your dismay.

“No, stir twice clockwise first,” he readied the sloth brain, waiting for you to stir the pot.

You obliged, aware of Sirius’s hovering frame next to you. God, he smelled divine. It made you mad.

He added the last ingredient before taking the spoon from you. Chills ran down your back when he brushed his fingers to yours, and you swore at yourself for acting and feeling like a thirteen-year-old. You despised the way your heart took pace when he sneaked closer to you, and your body refused to step away from him. Thus, you pushed him with your hip.

"Move away.”

“Don’t be bitter, I’m helping you out.”

“I am perfectly capable of making the potion.”

You weren’t. Your mind was so lost that Sirius had to intervene four times during the lesson.

“Capable, my arse,” he hits you with his upper arm, showing you slightly back to regain his previous place. “Did you make this many mistakes on your star chart, too?”

That was when your body froze for a second.

He hadn’t forgotten, it seemed. You tried not to divulge any out-of-ordinary emotions.

“My star chart was perfect until you came down and interrupted.”

Sirius shrugged, and you noticed that he also curled his lips downward. You glanced at his hands clutching the ladle and involuntarily gazed at the way he stirred the pot.

“It’s not my fault that I’m distractingly beautiful.”

He was distractingly beautiful. At least for you, he was beautiful enough to delve into your mind and ruffle all your thoughts.

“You were simply distractingly annoying,”

Sirius smirked at you, his eyes narrowing vaguely.

“You didn’t seem annoyed when you were on my lap.”

You felt the heat attract your skin, sweat threatening to emerge if you kept visualising how his hands felt on your back. You weren’t going to let him discern this, however.

“Need I remind you who pulled me there in the first place?”

“Nah, I did,” he took your hand and placed it on the ladle. “Do I need to teach you how to stir, or can you do that yourself?”

“You got tired already?” you mocked him, stirring the potion. As every normal person would, you expected him to deny or mock you back.

“Indeed,” he said instead.

In the next moments, he would lean on the desk and watch you stir, and you would try your best not to ask him the question that was eating you alive.

He would stare at your eyes blink while you watched every ingredient dissolve into the liquid just to avoid Sirius’s impact on you. He would observe every muscle twitching on your face while you were wincing at the screaming voices from the next desk. He would admire your smile while Professor Slughorn said, ‘Good job, kid’ to you.

If only you stopped fighting shy of his presence and heeded, you would notice that his eyes never left you for even a moment.

In the next few weeks, you would engage with Sirius more than any time of the year you had been in this school.

He would come and sit next to you, bothering you while you were reading something. When you shooed him away, he would simply promise to stay quiet and listen to you read.

‘I will be as silent as the grave.’

At some point, you would stutter, and he would ignore it.

He would tease you at every opportunity and grin when you would get mad at him.

‘Stop eating my bloody muffins, Black!’

He would repeat the same thing only to adore the scowl on your face and the wrinkle between your brows, but you would be too irritated to notice it.

He would keep you company at your night studies but mask it as ‘not being able to sleep’.

‘Remus snores too loud.’

You would be too tense to perceive his covetous gaze.

You wouldn’t understand his sudden interest in you, but you secretly cherished this new friendship.

You would feel tingles when he drew stars on your arm during the lessons. You wouldn’t be able to hide your smile when he would ask you to polish his nails black. Your heart would flutter when he sat beside you and listened to you read.

However, there was also something else lingering between the two bodies. A tension that would tense you, fluster your mind, and frazzle your skin with a yearning for his touch.

You would feel it when his breath hit your cheek, his finger brushed your hand, his thigh stroked yours. You would feel it when he whispered at night, hummed at your jeering words, and grinned at your tinted face.

You would feel it when he found you at midnight on Astronomy Tower, too.

You didn’t know how, but he would magically appear and cross your way; your encounters had tripled recently. Especially when you were alone.

At least once a week, you two would stumble upon each other in the Tower and the plain ‘hey’s would turn into deep late-night talks. Sometimes you would tell him how you had the worst day in your life, and he would briefly mention his family.

You were slowly becoming friends.

Yet, a feeling had been clawing your skin every moment he was close, exhorting you to touch his arm, his hand, his leg. A small gesture to the eye, but your heart would clench with a yen for more each time.

The exact feeling was now nagging you as Sirius was talking about his dream tattoo.

“A constellation?”

“How else would people know what star it is?”

He wasn’t exactly wrong. A simple star wouldn’t indicate the name, and he was determined to have Sirius tattooed. It was rather a silly conversation for one in the morning at Astronomy Tower, but recently you had grown to enjoy his voice.

“Where do you want it?” you asked, and he smirked.

You watched Sirius get up from the wall you’ve been leaning on and pull his shirt up. You expected him to point somewhere around his navel, but instead, he clasped the shirt between his teeth and placed his hand on his black pants.

“What are you doing?” you asked, a bit panicked, but your eyes betrayed you by peeking at his abdomen.

“Not taking my pants off, calm down,” he grinned and pulled the right part of his pants slightly down. You could swear you felt your breath get heavier when his right hip came to view. Everything from the sharp outline of his bone to the thin hair on his skin was boiling something in you, threatening to spill any moment.

“You could've just said to my hip,” you averted your eyes at his face with force.

“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t see that look on your face,” he said, pushing his clothes back to their rightful places. You feigned a frown when he sat back next to you, your arms touching.

“What look?”

“The one you make whenever I’m too close to you.”

You could feel the embarrassment climbing into your core and the need to lick your lips itching your nerves.

“I don’t make any looks,” you managed to voice, trying to cover your chagrin with insouciance.

Sirius scoffed and leaned in, almost daring you to prove him wrong. And you tried. You tried so hard not to hold your breath, not to pinch your thigh, and not to gulp the apprehension away.

He grabbed your chin when you failed.

You kept your eyes on his grey ones, albeit his hot breath begged you to shut them. You wondered if Sirius could hear your heart hammering in your chest.

“Sure you don’t,” he whispered, and you hated him for it.

Anticipation was hurting you, burning your heart with desire. You were irked that he wasn't doing anything. Teasing you, pushing you to the edge of the cliff, but never letting you see the view. You despised that you were at his mercy.

He pulled away when you leaned in, chuckled at your eagerness. You were about to stop this madness and leave the Tower if it weren't for his hand on your waist that pulled your body close to his.

He was playing with you, testing your limits and self-control, which you clearly lacked. Or else you wouldn't arch your back at his touch and part your lips.

His hands roamed every inch of your body, but lips never touched yours. He let you place your hand on his collar but not on his face to crash your lips to his. You let his hands caress the bare skin of your arms, needing them closer to your heart, but he didn't give you what you wanted.

Your patience was hanging from a thread, ready to snap in a second. You could feel the frustration building up, slave to one mockery to burst into flames. Irritation and anticipation blended together, their colours turning your stomach upside down.

One more smirk from him, and you would snap.

"All you have to do is to make the first move, and I'll take care of the rest," he said and smirked.

So you snapped.

“Fuck you,” you breathed before pulling him in by the collar.

You weren't soft, he wasn't gentle, and the kiss wasn't tender.

It was hungry, zealous, and rapacious.

His lips fought with yours, intoxicating your every sense. Your nails marked his neck, earning rattled breaths that urged you for more. His hands claimed your skin, igniting every inch with lust.

You tugged on his hair when he bit down on your lip, and he pressed his fingers harder on your skin when you slipped your tongue inside.

Your breath mingled with his, and your lips parted only briefly when he pulled you to his lap.

The next second, he was pulling you in, hands on either side of your face. You pushed his hair away from his face, moaning to his lips.

His hands found their way under your clothes, making you arch at the cold of his fingers. Your lips were swollen and red at his point, as well as his.

Yet, he didn't stop. Not until you were both unable to breathe anymore.

When he did stop, your lips missed his lips. You let your lungs take the air they needed while your eyes stared deep into his darkened ones.

Both of you were gasping for air, chests moving up and down in sync.

What would happen next stretched to dozens of moments, hundreds of thoughts and thousands of doubts.

You could stop right here and there. You could pause and talk about it or even not talk about it ever again. You could stay in the dark, refusing to learn what it would be like to feel him, to hear him, to taste him. Or…

All you had to do was to make the first move.

You chose the latter.

Great changes were made to your life since that night.

For example, you had learned how to sneak into the boy's room. You were now passing the Requirements Room more often, and your lips would be somehow swollen every time you were late to class.

It was exciting, the feeling that you could anytime feel a hand on your arm pulling you close, but it was also incredibly messy. You were skipping classes, meals, and even small chats with your friends.

You didn't regret it, though.

His quiet moans against your skin, your nail marks on his back, and the hot breaths lingering between the two bodies were all you needed to recall to abide.

It didn't have a name.

You two were clinging to each other as hard as you could, your lips were begging for more even though there was nothing more to take, and the loving words were being spoken in the heat of a moment. But it didn't have a name.

You never bothered to think about it.

“I’m not sure they will fall for that,” you mumbled drowsily as Sirius was playing with your hair. A little bit more, and you would doze off on his bare chest.

“They will, they’re astonishingly stupid,” he said, and you frowned at how he didn’t trouble himself to keep his voice down. It was the middle of the night, and you were sure the other three boys were asleep–or trying to fall asleep– as you two talked.

“They’re smart enough to guess why you’re inviting them to a Gryffindor party,”

“Maybe,” he shrugged, and you felt your head move. “But we’re inviting all the Slytherins, and they’re proud enough to show up.”

“You still won’t tell me what’s the prank?”

He laughed, and you winced at the loud tone.

“You just have fun, leave that part to us–”

“Some of us are trying to sleep, Pads!” James exclaimed, and you stifled a chuckle. Sirius had mentioned that he woke up early every morning.

“It’s only midnight,” he called back, and you squeezed your lips together when another calm but firm voice was heard.

“Sirius, be quiet.”

“Be quiet yourself, Remus!”

But as time passed, you found yourself questioning things, trying to put on a label desperately so you could comprehend. So you could understand why he kissed your lips and called you his friend to others, why he put distance between you in public but got frustrated when he couldn’t feel your skin on his in private, and why he didn’t even touch you in mornings but marked you at nights.

You often found yourself gazing at the way his hair stuck to his temple or the way his fingers stroked the bruises on your hips.

“You’re staring,” he said between rapid breaths as he threw himself beside you. You laughed, drawing a deep breath in.

You didn’t know how to ask this with the least damage, but you also knew if you let this…situation go on, it would only harm you.

“I have to ask you something.”

“Did I add glue to Pete’s shampoo? Yeah, I did.”

You rolled your eyes at him before giving him a disapproving look. Sirius merely grinned and nodded.

“Kidding. Ask away.”

Here goes nothing

“I want to know,” you dig your nails into your palm. “what…this is.”

You were sure you didn’t choose the right words, but how else were supposed to ask it without sounding cheesy? When you peeked at Sirius, he looked frowning, eyes blinking fast enough to let you know his mind was blank.

“What is what?”

“This,” you repeated, this time with more determination. You swung your pointer finger between the distance. “Us. What we are doing.”

“I��” he stopped, staring at you. You felt like his gaze was accusing you of relying on him for all the answers. “You can end it if that’s what you want.”

Your face fell in annoyance. How was that any relevant to what you asked?

“That’s not what I said.”

“I don’t understand what you said then.”

You sat up and started putting your clothes on, your brows furrowed. Sirius watched you propped up on his elbows. You tried not to peek at his hair.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I am not going anywhere until you answer my question,” you tugged your shirt and faced him. “I asked what are we?”

You cringed internally for voicing the words and cursed Sirius for making you. But it had to be done; you weren’t going to be one of those people who would fall in love with the ideas in their heads. You had to know what you meant for him.

Sirius was biting his lips, picking the skin off. You arched a brow at him, still waiting.

“Friends?”

“Friends don’t moan each other’s names.”

Sirius groaned, sitting up. His eyes never left yours, his lips parting and closing in a search for the right words. Oh, how you wanted to dive into his mind and see the mess.

“I don’t know. What do you expect me to say? I’m in this as much as you are.”

He wasn’t wrong. You two never talked about this, but you should’ve. Because right now, your unspoken words were getting in the way.

You looked at his conflicted face, loving the gleam of emotion you didn’t understand but hating the cross ambience you were too familiar with in his eyes. You were a stranger to your feelings for him; you didn’t know what you wanted, not yet, at least. But whatever it was, being away from him wasn’t the one.

Minutes had passed, and you were still silent. It hindered him and hampered the space between you. Somehow, the arm’s distance felt like miles for you.

Sirius cleared his throat.

“Do you– are you asking this because you want to see others, but you feel like you owe me something?”

Your eyes widened with surprise, words building up on the tip of your tongue. So many thoughts and words were waiting to be said, and you felt like you didn’t have enough time for them.

“No–”

“Because you can.”

“What?”

“See others. You can do that if you wish.”

You were staring at him with a glower. He was fine with you seeing someone else. Did this mean he felt nothing of importance for you? Did this mean you should also be fine with him seeing someone else? Well, you weren’t.

“I don’t want to see others,” you said, albeit you were sure something ruder would come out of your mouth. “So this is purely physical? Just sex?”

He stood still for a moment, denying you any answer. You knew he was thinking. You could see it from his eyebrows, hands, and eyes that moved around. You just didn’t know what he was thinking.

You also knew it was way too late for you when you felt a sting in your heart as he spoke.

“Yes. Just sex.”

Nothing changed, and yet you felt like everything had changed.

It was still the same tender touches, soft words, and zealous kisses. It was still the same tingle in your stomach when he would call you pretty while you whimpered with pleasure. It was still the same fire on your skin when his lips would caress every inch. It was still the same peace when he would hold you close afterwards.

However, the sleepless nights, warm tears and red eyes were new. The agony in your soul when he would simply nod at you in the mornings was new. The storm in your heart when he would leave you alone in empty rooms was new. The war in your mind when he fell asleep on your lap was new.

You hated every moment of it.

You started to see him with other girls more, too. Maybe you simply had started to pay attention, but it bothered you. It boiled your blood, tensed your muscles and twisted your tongue.

You wanted to show him it was more for you, but you didn’t know how. Of course, you could simply go up to him and confess your feelings. But where’s the fun in that? You were determined to get a confession from him.

That’s why you repeated everything he did that wounded you.

He simply said ‘hey’ at you in the common room? You didn’t acknowledge him.

He said one of you should leave first so that you don’t attract attention? You were already out of the room.

He was about to swallow a girl whole? You didn’t do that yet. It felt beneath you to betray your feelings like that.

But you did watch him with a drink in your hand, music blasting in your ears and blazing eyes. His hand rested on the girl's back, a smug grin flashing as he lowered his head at her to hear her. You could feel every drop of poison travelling in your veins when he touched her, thorns of jealousy bleeding you.

What a party.

At some point, you even contemplated returning to your room but decided to not let him ruin your night. Thus, you found your friends, and to your luck, they had enough energy to let you loose.

They made you sway your hips to the rhythm, jump in your place, and scream the lyrics from the top of your lungs. You were even drunk enough to feel dizzy, or maybe that was just too much jumping around.

You closed your eyes for a moment to take a break, laughing at yourself. You knew you shouldn't do it, but your hands poured another drink, ready to gulp it down.

“What are you doing alone?” a familiar voice called your attention. The raven black-hair was enough to let you know who it was.

You hated his attire. Black leather jacket on his bare chest with the same coloured pants. You hated his rings. Wrapping around his fingers too elegantly, forcing you to peek. You hated the black nails that you painted and the eyeliner you drew.

“Drinking.”

Sirius nodded and maybe even hummed, but the rock music was too loud to hear. You felt him take your hand and slowly pull you.

“Come dance with me,” he said, wrapping his arm around your waist. You hated the butterflies too.

“I don’t want to jump around, my head hurts.”

“Then we’ll slow dance. Come now.”

"To rock music?"

"Sure," he rested your hands on his shoulders, embracing you with his and pushing your bodies together.

"This is ridiculous," you breathed to his lips. Music and your movements didn't align. It made you feel out of place.

"How is your night so far?" he ignored you, and you heard the sarcasm in his question. Would it be bad if you punched him in the eye? But again, you loved his grey eyes.

"Wonderful."

"Mine is too."

You rolled your eyes. He brought his hands to your hips. You could feel the odd looks from the people around. Who danced like this to rock music?

"Yeah, I saw."

He smirked, and you stepped on his foot.

"Saw what?"

"The wonderful in your night," you snarled, and his eyes caught yours escaping to the direction of the girl Sirius was with moments ago.

"Are you jealous?" he asked as he swirled you around.

Maybe you should punch him after all. Hopefully, it would wipe off the smug on his face.

"No.”

“She was needed for the prank. To lure Rosier in.”

“Don’t remember asking.”

“I know. Didn’t want you to think of something else.”

‘Why?’ You wanted to ask but blurted something else out instead.

“We don’t owe each other anything, do we? You can do what you like, and I can do what I like.”

He frowned a bit.

“I thought you didn’t want to see others.”

“Time will tell.”

“I don’t want you to see others.”

“You were the one–”

“I changed my mind.”

“Why?” you asked this time. Your heart was beating with the excitement of being so close to what you wanted to hear. “It’s just sex like you said.”

“I made a mistake,” he said and turned the whole conversation into a joke again. “I didn’t know it was possible, either.”

“I will leave if you can’t stay serious for five minutes.”

“Fine, sorry,” he chuckled, but it was forced. His hands were sweaty, and his movements a bit sloppy. He was being extra careful not to step on you. He was aware this was the moment he was supposed to open his heart.

But he didn’t. He didn’t, and you waited.

You waited as he drew a sharp breath in, and you waited as he licked his lips. You waited for the words that never came.

He was pushing you to the edge of a cliff, not letting you see the view. You could give up, let go of whatever this was. You could abandon your feelings and forbid your skin to his touch, and he wouldn’t have the power over your heart anymore.

All you had to do was to make the first move.

“I want this to be more, Sirius,” you said.

His breath stopped for a moment. His hands tightened around your hips. You felt your steps come to a halt, too. Not that you were complaining; it was a weird dance.

“I want you to be more.”

He rested his forehead against yours, a crook of a smile appearing on his lips.

“We’re on the same page then,” he whispered, and you heard it despite the screams and music around you.

You didn’t know why he had such a hard time admitting his feelings or voicing them properly. But you were used to it. He wouldn’t tell you he cared about you, instead, he would dance to rock music with you.

You smiled and started to move ineptly at the head-aching music. He kissed your lips when you did, and you happily returned it. His lips were soft this time, and his kiss tender. Your smile didn’t fade when he pulled away.

“How is your night so far?”

“Wonderful,” you giggled, “Yours?”

"You're the wonderful in my night," he whispered before kissing you again.

i'm a bit insecure about this one, but i'm also extremely tired

thank you for reading and let me know what you think!

and if you care to, buy me a coffee<33

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my-moony-and-padfoot · 3 months

Text

To be with you

Word count: 2 500

Just a good old sick fic <3, hopefully you like it

“Moons?” Remus jumped slightly as he heard the voice. He wasn't expecting Sirius to be back yet, but hummed anyway, smiling at him though it faded as he took in the glassy eyes, slightly reddened nose and even paler skin than usually.

“What's up, love?” He asked, closing his book and setting it down onto the side table, Sirius sniffled, reaching for Remus' hand who gladly gave it to him, all the more worried at the lack of response from Sirius. “C'mere.” Remus whispered, pulling him to sit on his lap, the boy complied, curling up to Remus the best he could in the small space of the armchair. “What's wrong, baby?” He whispered into his hair, wrapping a protective arm around him, holding him close.

“Don' feel well.” He whispered quietly as he shivered.

“Aww, that's no good.” He held his hand up to his forehead for a moment, feeling how warm he already was. “You feel quite warm. What's bothering you?”

“My head hurts, throats all scratchy. I'm cold.” He mumbled, pressing himself closer to Remus, head tucked underneath his chin, as if seeking warmth off of his boyfriend. “Dizzy.”

Remus nodded, kissing his head. “Did James tell you not to go to practice?”

“Said I'd fall off my broom.” He yawned, closing his eyes for a moment. “Won't. I never do.”

“First time for everything, hmm? But, I'm siding with him on this one, you look like you'll pass out any minute.” Sirius shook his head.

“You're my boyfriend, you're supposed to be on my side.” He mumbled, and Remus laughed quietly, running his hand through Sirius' hair.

“Whatever you say.”

“M’right.”

“Of course you are. You're always.” He grinned, getting an annoyed, weak smack on his chest from Sirius. “I have some tea, wanna sip? Might help the sore throat.”

Sirius nodded, coughing slightly, as he sat up, Remus handed him the cup, and he held on with both hands, trying to be careful. “Thank you.” He whispered, taking a sip, the warmth soothing the growing pain nicely. Remus just smiled, kissing his temple and holding him by his waist.

“Should we go upstairs, have a little nap?”

“No.”

“No? Why not, baby? You're tired, and sleep always helps when you're poorly.” Sirius nodded, handing the mug back to Remus. “You can have it.” He said, knowing the boy had taken his offer of a sip a little too literally. Sirius smiled, taking another sip of the tea. “Why don't you wanna sleep?”

“Wanna be with you.”

“Who said I wouldn't be with you?” Sirius shrugged, not looking at Remus. “We can cuddle up better in bed, love. Get you a blanket to get you all warm, sound good?”

“You're warm rem.”

“Mm, maybe, but a blanket would be warmer.”

“We have to go to dinner soon.” He argued tiredly, glancing at Remus, who nodded, rubbing at his side.

“Are you incapable of walking back down from our dorm in a few hours?” Sirius nodded, reaching to set down the much emptier mug on the table, looking at Remus. “Why're you arguing with me on this, love?”

Sirius shrugged. “Wanna stay here.” He mumbled, leaning back against him, sniffling and wiping his nose into his sleeve.

“Okay.” He said, rubbing Sirius' side and kissing his head. “Lets move to the sofa at least, so you can-”

“No.”

He didn't even bother to ask why not because Sirius didn't often make sense when he was feeling sick. He often got emotional, and he'd argue against things that weren't exactly reasonable like moving to a much comfortable place.

“Okay baby.” He whispered. “Whatever you want. Can I at least grab you a blanket? You're shivering.” Sirius nodded, and Remus reached for the Gryffindor coloured blanket that was laying on the sofa next to them, draping it over Sirius and tucking it around him the best he could.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, curling up to Remus even more, head tucked into his neck. He wiped his nose into his sleeve before he pulled the blanket even better on him covering most of his face.

“Try to sleep, love. I'll wake you up in a bit, okay?” Sirius nodded, listening to Remus' calm breathing and the soft rustling of pages as he continued to read, it was comforting in a way.

It was difficult to fall asleep with the growing headache, the annoying pressure in his sinuses, and when he was so cold. But eventually, he managed to fall asleep, only to be woken up into a coughing fit an hour later. He sat up, coughing into his arm as Remus rubbed his back gently. When he stopped coughing Remus handed him the tea that was still warm, probably because of a spell, but Sirius wasn't sure.

“Better?” He nodded, sniffling as he handed the cup back to Remus before he leaned back against him. “I think you'd be better off in bed, love. Prop yourself up and get all comfortable, yeah?”

“Okay.” He whispered, rubbing his nose into his sleeve, to try to get rid of an itch. “But um- with you?”

“I'm going to go down to the kitchens first, then I'll be with you.” Sirius nodded. “Is there something you'd like to eat?” he shook his head this time. “You gotta eat something, baby.”

“No.”

“You do. Your idiot ass skips breakfast every morning, and you didn't eat well at lunch either, can I please get you something?”

Sirius nodded. “But cuddles?”

“Sirius, it'll take me less than half an hour, you'll survive.” He shook his head, sniffling. “What's the matter? Why don't you want to be alone even for a moment?”

“Don' feel well.”

“I know.” He whispered. “I’m sorry about that, but it's not like you're gonna die if I'm away for a moment.” Sirius nodded, though reached up to wipe his eyes. “What's upsetting you, baby?”

“M’not sure.” He said, shaking his head. “My head's all- I can't think.”

“Okay. Hey Sirius, look at me?” Sirius lifted his head, looking at Remus, who brought his hand up to his forehead, then cupped his cheek. “You feel really warm, love.”

“My brain is melting.”

“Like you have one.” Remus smiled, leaning to kiss his forehead. “Let’s get you into bed, okay? I'm gonna go down to see Poppy, get something for that fever and-”

“Alone?”

“For a moment, pads.” He said. “It won't take me long, nothing bad will happen in half an hour, plus James and Pete are going to come up soon, practice is over. I can ask them to spend time with you if you really don't want to be alone.”

“I don't wanna get them sick.”

“We share a dorm, they're probably gonna get it anyway.” Sirius looked horrified at that, eyes widening as he looked at Remus.

“I'm gonna get you sick.” He whispered, his voice wavering with unshed tears. “Rem- why didn't-” He tried to get up in his panic, but Remus just pulled him back to sit back down.

“It's okay.” He soothed, slowly running his hand up and down his back to calm him down. “I don't mind. It's not like I'd leave you to tend to yourself when you're so sick just to avoid getting sick myself. And we share the same dorm, we sleep in the same bed, Sirius—I'd get it anyway.”

“Don't want to get you sick.”

“Always hits you and your poor immune system the worst, doesn't it? It's gonna be fine, even if I do get sick.” He said. “Not the end of the world, baby.”

“O-okay.”

“Besides, if we both get sick, we can force Jamie to take care of us.” Sirius gave him a small smile, feeling slightly better though he'd still rather keep his germs to himself. “Let's go to bed, yeah?” Sirius hummed, slowly getting up, almost doubling over as he sneezed into his arm. “Bless you, love. Here.” He smiled, handing him a tissue.

“Thank you.” He whispered, tucking the used tissue into his pocket, glancing at Remus as he got up, grabbing his things before taking his hand and leading him up to their dorm.

“You get comfy in bed, and I'm going to go see Poppy okay baby?” Sirius nodded slightly, looking up at him as he sat down onto the bed. “Gonna get you something to eat too.”

Sirius nodded again. “Promise to be back soon?”

“I'll be as quick as I can.” He smiled, kissing his forehead, knowing he was still nervous. “Don't worry so much, nothing's going to happen when you're alone.”

“You can't know that.”

“Just trust me baby, it's only the fever talking, yeah?” Remus said, brushing his hair back, as he nodded. “I can wait until James and Pete come back if you'd like.”

“ ‘s fine.” He sniffled, wiping his nose into his sleeve before looking back at Remus who looked really worried. “Be back soon.”

“I will.” He smiled, kissing his head before he left their dorm. Sirius quickly changed out of his clothes into something more comfortable and warm, then he crawled under the covers, trying to get himself warmed up. He couldn't find himself to fall asleep though, he was tired and really wanted to, but he couldn't, not without Remus being there. Besides, if he'd go to sleep now, he would be woken up soon anyway when Remus would come back so it was quite pointless.

He smiled slightly when the door opened, though it quickly faltered when it was only James, not that he was unhappy to see his best friend; just wasn't who he was waiting for right now. “Hi pads.” He said, smiling sadly before he walked over to his bed, stuffing his quidditch gear underneath. “Saw moony downstairs, he said you're not feeling well. See, I was right for once.”

“Shut up.” he whispered, turning to look at James, who grinned, looking at him from where his head peeked behind his bed. “Where was he?”

“About to go see Poppy I think, or maybe he was coming from there — didn't really catch it” He said, ducking back underneath his bed searching for something. “Me and Pete were going to play chess, have you seen my board? I thought I left it here.”

“On your nightstand.”

“Oh- ouch. Thanks, mate.” He said, rubbing the top of his head as he sat up. “I can stay with you if you don't wanna be alone. Or me and Peter could come up here, keep you company.”

“It's fine Jamie.” He whispered, stifling a cough into the blanket, before looking back up at James.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, gonna sleep anyway. It's fine.” He whispered, giving James a small smile, who nodded, grabbing his chessboard and turning to go back to the common room. He closed his eyes as the brightness from the lights James had turned on made his headache grow even more painful.

After a while, he heard the door opening, and he turned around in bed, looking up at Remus as he walked over to the bed. “Hi, baby.” He smiled, setting a plate and a cup onto the nightstand before sitting down on the bed. “I take it you're not feeling better?” Sirius shook his head, coughing into his arm. “Poppy gave me some medicine to give to you, got you some plain toast and more tea.”

“Thank you.” He whispered, slowly sitting up and grabbing the plate Remus had set down. “Moony? Could you um- braid my hair? It gets in the way an-”

“If you'd like.” He smiled. “I'll be right back, eat up.” Sirius nodded, watching as Remus got up and went to the bathroom, coming back a moment later with a glass of water, and a few hair ties. Sirius moved to sit near the edge of the bed, so Remus could braid his hair. He ate the rest of his toast while Remus' braided his hair, leaning against him when he felt him tie one of them off. “What baby?”

“Nothing.” Remus smiled, brushing his hair behind his ear from the side he had yet to braid. “Jus’ wanna be with you.”

“That's very sweet, love. But I do have to braid the other half of the hair before cuddling with you. Unless you want half of it to be tangled and all up in your face.” Sirius nodded, but didn't move, just kept staring up at him, sniffling after a moment and wiping his nose into his sleeve. Remus leaned to kiss his head, nudging him gently to get him to sit back up. “C’mon sit up, darling.”

Sirius did so, grabbing the teacup from the bedside table before Remus could start to braid his hair. He smiled when he felt Remus kiss the top of his head when the braids were done. He got back under the covers as Remus changed into more comfortable clothes before coming to sit down next to him, and Sirius could cuddle up to him.

“Medicine.” Sirius shook his head, hiding his face into Remus' stomach. “Yes. Poppy said you gotta take it. It'll make you feel better.”

“Won't.”

“Yes it will,” He said, running his hand over the braids he had just made. “Please love?” Sirius shook his head, mumbling something Remus couldn't really make out. “I won't give you cuddles if you don't take your medicine.”

“That's not fair.” He mumbled, but sat up, glaring at Remus as he handed him the small vial, but took a sip of it anyway. It tasted awful, so he was glad when Remus handed him a glass of water to wash off the taste. “You can't bully me when I'm ill.”

“I can always bully you.” He smiled, pulling Sirius into a hug and kissing his head. “How else would I get you to do things, hmm?”

“Ask nicely, dumbass.”

“Asking nicely doesn't work with you, darling now does it?” Sirius huffed, but leaned closer to him, curling up to Remus. “Aww, c'mon y'know I'm right.”

“You're not.”

“Sure,” He said, rubbing his back. “But look at you, I told you no cuddles, and you immediately take your medicine.”

“Shut up.” He mumbled, coughing into his arm and closing his eyes. “ ‘m all fevered it's not fair.”

“Okay. I'll try to be nice to you.” He smiled, kissing his head as Sirius gave him a weak smack on the chest, he just laughed, holding him a bit closer. Remus slowly moved them so they could lay down, Sirius just curled up more to him, letting out a content hum when the blanket was pulled better over him. “You all comfy, baby?”

“Mm,” He mumbled sleepily, sniffling and rubbing his nose into Remus' shirt to get rid of an itch. “I love you, moons.”

“I love you more, angel.” He whispered, rubbing his side gently from under his jumper. “Try to sleep, yeah? You'll feel better after a bit of sleep.” Sirius nodded, hiding his face more, letting the quiet humming and a hand running over the braids lull him to sleep. “Sleep well.” Remus said, kissing his head before continuing to hum, knowing how noise helped Sirius sleep.

A/N:

Hellooo,

Hopefully you liked this, I did.

For once I have managed to write something without angst, quite weird isn't it? Maybe I'm finally evolving as a writer, or as a personal idk

Have a nice day/night/something, remember to take care of yourself<3

See you around, maybe.

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khorai · 10 months

Note

Same Anon as before. Do you have any unpopular opinions about certain characters?

A lot even but i will only talk about my opinions regarding the characters from the Naruto manga that I appreciate - if I expand, we'll be here tomorrow - .

Firstly, let's start with Sakura.

I don't understand why some—actually, many—of her own fans say she is poorly written.

She isn't...?

Sakura has issues concerning her character, but it has NOTHING to do with bad writing but more about her role in the story and how she was used. As for her character itself, she-is-not-poorly-written.

Honestly, I hate this claim because it gives the impression that her character is bad when that's not the case at all.

Coming from the antis, it's not surprising —they can't even understand the character of their own favorite, so understanding Sakura's character would be a miracle— but from her "stan"?

Just...no.

She is not poorly written, and that's my final word on it. I'm more than tired of hearing this nonsense. Yes, the narrative failed her many times— like many other characters, for that matter —but it's not the "bad writing" of her character to blame, but rather Kishimoto's inability to focus on characters other than Sasuke and Naruto.

Another unpopular opinion about her is that I HATE fanon versions of Sakura (and when I say fanon, I also mean popular headcanons about her circulating in the fandom).

It may sound extreme, but you'll quickly understand why:

Initially, it was actually the opposite. I loved it because I enjoyed seeing the different iterations of her that fans could create. It was always refreshing to read other versions of Sakura in fanfic—that admittedly had little to do with the original—growing and experiencing incredible things. I liked that.

And then things got worse.

For some reason, many of her fans —and antis as well— started confusing her canon version and her fanon version (some takes on her are so OC that I sometimes wonder if we're talking about the same person), while others began to claim that she should have had techniques like mokuton in the canon.

... What do they think Sakura is?

Naruto and Sasuke?

If they want their headcanon to be somewhat plausible in the context of canon, at least give her something that aligns with his philosophy of hard work.

Mokuton, from what I know, only manifests through the Senju lineage. If she had it in the canon, she would have to be descended from a Senju —naturally or artificially, it doesn't matter— and honestly... I disagree.

That's not Sakura.

This girl is a titan of her own making, partly thanks to her courage and hard work, and then thanks to Tsunade and Shizune -bless these ladies-

I would never want her to have power-ups like Naruto; it would negate everything she has done since the beginning of the manga, and that's just a big no.

I can understand her fans being upset about her treatment by Kishimoto —I am too, a lot— but that doesn't mean we should change her character to fit a shoddy female version of her male counterparts; that's just rude.

It wouldn't even be the same person anymore.

My last unpopular opinion about her (I have many more, but I'll just stop here) is that she deserved better.

... I classify this as an unpopular opinion because what I mean by that is not: "she deserved better than Sasuke" or "she deserved to be with Naruto" or AGAIN "she should have gotten over Sasuke" or some other thing like "she should have had some super powerful ability."

No, what I mean is that Sakura deserved her own arc.

An arc in which she wouldn't have to carry the weight of the shinobi world's guilt on her shoulders as usual - if Konoha is messed up, it's not her fault-

An arc in which we could see her actually experience her other skills, have other epic battles, build other relationships, break free from the grip of Team 7 in general.

She's supposed to be the heroine of the manga, but Kishimoto treated her like a supporting character with way too much screen time.

Damn, we don't even know what her home life is like.

We don't even really see her parents in the manga, and why is that?

Because she doesn't have an overly tragic background to make Hades pale?

Because she doesn't have balls?

Compared to her teammates, she doesn't matter, is that it?

The only thing we see her do again and again is blame herself for things beyond her control.

Like...why?!

Kishimoto made her some kind of martyr of pain, and it infuriates me every time I think about it.

The worst part is that many of her own fans sweep this under the rug and prefer to argue about who "deserves her."

Sasuke here, Naruto there... is she a piece of meat?

It's almost taboo to talk about the real problems surrounding her character in this fandom without someone mentioning how "Sasuke doesn't deserve her, and Naruto is much better" or how "Sakura is obsessed with Sasuke's dick."

...

Lol.

Next, Sasuke.

Sasuke deserved better...

and

Sasuke was wrong...

are notions that should more often go hand in hand.

His redemption journey was a good idea because, no matter what his most zealous fans say about it, Sasuke needed that journey.

Konoha hurt him, and it's easy to become an apologist for his character given all the crap he went through, mainly because of the incompetent authorities of this crappy village, but... that doesn't change the fact that he is not without blame and that he also did messed up things.

However... I don't like the resolution of his character arc.

Once again, Kishimoto reminded us in the cruelest way possible that Naruto is a classic Shounen, and the protagonist must always be right.

To the detriment of Sasuke.

Attention, I'm not saying that Naruto's view was wrong and Sasuke's was right because that's far from the case.

What annoyed me is the way the author handled it.

It seemed like Sasuke was almost wrong to think the way he did, when given his situation, his reaction was actually expected and normal. I really don't like how he put Naruto's opinions on a pedestal at the end of manga.

He gave Sasuke a completely independent story that didn't revolve around Naruto's sphere of influence -quite rare even today in the Shounen era- .

He endowed him with his own will.

Literally more than Naruto, it was Sasuke who led the dance in the manga, and why in the end?

So that everything would go in the direction of the protagonist?

And that, without even serious questioning of the Konoha system?

What was the point of Naruto knowing the truth about the Uchiha massacre then?

So yes, I don't like what Kishimoto did to Sasuke's character in the end; I find it unfair to him.

I classify this as an unpopular opinion because, even though I'm not a fan of the resolution of his character arc, that doesn't mean I'm "pro-revolution" or that I think Sasuke did nothing wrong, because he did.

This brings me to my second unpopular opinion about this character:

Sasuke is not a revolutionary.

He is not the character built to challenge the system that some of his fans think he is.

Like… since when did Sasuke become someone who could change Konoha's system in the first place?

That was never his goal; the only thing that led him to make that infamous statement was anger and betrayal he felt towards Konoha. It was his obsession with revenge that led to this thought, and nothing else.

Moreover, excuse me, but his plan was crappy.

Eliminate all Kage, okay.

Take the lead of all the villages, okay.

Launch a revolution and change the system...

As if the other shinobi of the alliance would just stare at him and do nothing -_-

His idea was doomed to fail from the start.

I'm theorizing a bit here, but basically, here's the deal:

Does he really think he can eliminate the entire Shinobi alliance? (because that's what he would have had to do to achieve his goal)

With what help?

That of Team Taka?

Lol.

Yes, Sasuke is powerful, but even he couldn't have pulled off this feat without becoming ridiculously overpowered (even more than at the end of the manga).

The only thing this plan would have brought if executed would have been to alienate all Shinobi nations against him (well, he already did it, but it would have been even worse).

And if, by some miracle, his plan had worked - if he had succeeded in his revolution - it would have just caused decades and decades of war between rebel factions - because there would be if we still follow the logic of the manga - wanting to return to the old times, others wanting power for themselves, and others simply refusing to let power go to an Uchiha (let's not forget the reputation of this clan).

Moreover, to change a system hundreds of years old in a world governed by the law of the strongest, it takes much more than violence and a strong desire for revenge.

He would need many brains at his disposal: tacticians, politicians, doctors, advisers...

In short, he would need allies he could trust and who would not betray him.

Unless he wants to be a bully, which honestly seems more likely to me.

He would need the help of countless geniuses in each field for this revolution to be successful, and from what the manga tells us, all these people are in the alliance.

... Who would want to work for him willingly after all he would have done?

And even if there are people willing to do so, it will always be with the fear of possible betrayal.

If even Madara and Hashirama - alias shinobi gods in their time - needed strong allies to create Konoha and make it a prosperous nation...

(even though it went to hell afterward, but still)

What will Sasuke do with a partially destroyed nation that he will have to rebuild with his own hands?

And let's not even talk about the fact that he was consumed by revenge and half-crazy when he talked about this revolution.

I still can't believe there are people who take these words seriously.

I really wonder what kind of revolution they expected with Sasuke in that state of mind?

If it had happened, it would have led to two possible situations:

The death of the last surviving Uchiha or an even more gruesome massacre than the one that wiped out his clan.

Although, considering those who support this pseudo-revolution among his fanbase, the latter option would have suited them just fine.

Another reason that honestly makes me think this thing is stupid is that it doesn't align with the manga's vision.

Kishimoto, despite the few innovative takes he has made several times regarding the plot and some characters, remains a staunch traditionalist. Sasuke would never have become a villain, and he would never have been killed either; that would go against Naruto's dream.

He would also never have become a "revolutionary" challenging the system.

It's not his role; he's not the protagonist.

The character of Sasuke - like all the others, in fact - exists within the limits of the plot; we cannot go beyond and make his character something it was never supposed to be.

Although, for me, it's a good thing that he isn't because his plan was just as bad as Naruto's flawed idealistic vision.

I still think that if Kishimoto had made them talk normally for once, without them having to almost kill each other, if he had made them come to a compromise that would have combined their two ideas, it wouldn't have been as half-baked in the end.

To choose between the plague and cholera, he should have just paired them together -_-

But no, he had to choose nardo's protagonist vision.

Another opinion about Sasuke is his relationship with Naruto, which I find... shaky? overestimated? poorly written?

They share a strong bond, that's an undeniable truth, and you'd have to be pretty stupid to deny that.

It's the main bond in the manga, after all.

But in terms of friendship... I have doubts.

For me, the only reason I believe Sasuke and Naruto are friends is that Kishimoto said so.

We hardly see it in the manga.

Their relationship literally built on years of objectification, selfishness, disdain, rivalry, misunderstanding, resentment, and a huge savior complex.

Naruto made Sasuke his priority not out of genuine concern but because he wanted to prove he was worthy of being Hokage, and for that, Sasuke had to come back at all costs.

That's not friendship; it's selfishness and objectification.

Oh, I don't doubt that he cared, but the problem is that the manga doesn't really show us that.

Moreover, this idea that "Naruto understands Sasuke" is, for me, a bunch of nonsense.

Maybe he does so at a superficial level because of their slightly similar experiences, but if we go deeper?

Naruto doesn't really understand him, and it showed particularly when he learned the truth about the Uchiha massacre.

For Sasuke, it's more complicated.

He has a lot of mitigating circumstances that actually explain his behavior (Itachi being alive, the curse of hatred).

But in general, he played the role of an antagonist for most of Shippuden, and the fact that his character arc didn't revolve around Naruto made him some kind of insensitive jerk to everyone - at least on the surface - .

If Sasuke wanted to take revenge on the world, Naruto wanted to save him.

And neither of them was willing to give in on that.

I'm not going to judge Naruto for not caring about Sasuke's goals after Itachi's death. Who in their right mind would support such a plan?

It was supporting a one-way ticket to self-destruction.

And I'm not going to judge Sasuke for the numerous attempts to kill Naruto because that would be unfair.

However, what I judge is how Kishimoto made their communication impossible.

When they start talking seriously, it always has to end with one of them almost dying at the last moment.

Even Vegeta and Goku had more civilized discussions than these two, and that says something.

I like their relationship, but I sometimes find it hard to label them as friends, let alone best friends.

There's a lot of things that haven't been well-managed in there.

Third opinion:

Sasuke is not evil.

He is not the cold, emotionless individual that more than half of this God-forsaken fandom wants him to be.

I never thought I'd classify this as an unpopular opinion, but considering the nonsense I've seen about him, I had to do it. According to this fandom, both among his stans and antis, Sasuke is abusive, sexist, possessive, indifferent, unfaithful, easily manipulable, selfish, a lousy father, and the list goes on.

Of course, he is none of that, but it's always amusing to see people forcing their fantasies onto his character. This guy has always marched to the beat of his own drum; he has no more official truth about him other than this, and that really irritates a lot of people.

Now, onto his big brother:

Itachi... is not a good person (I still can't believe I have to say this).

He is not even a martyr from my perspective.

I really dislike how his character is glorified in certain parts of the fandom. But at the same time, I don't like how he's demonized among the antis.

Itachi is not an angel, but he is not a demon either.

He's selfish and an unparalleled manipulator, but that doesn't make him evil. He can also be gentle, warm, and incredibly loving - though he has a peculiar way of showing it- .

He's a character with a messed-up mentality, and I love him for that. I hate seeing his character being destroyed by people trying to fit him into boxes he doesn't truly belong to; it annoys me.

In the end, Itachi is a tragic character who found himself forced to make horrible choices. His life was just immensely... torturous.

I love him, but given all the mess he caused, his death was both expected and deserved.

He was tired, disillusioned, sick, and with a list of Uchiha deaths as long as Tobirama's (not to mention what he did to his brother). So no, the idea that he shouldn't have died is truly ridiculous.

Please, let this tormented man find peace in his death.

I'll stop here because at this point, these are not even unpopular opinions but downright diatribes.

#ask #anon ask #I don't even know how to tag this #It’s pro and anti at the same time...?#sakura haruno #sasuke uchiha #itachi uchiha #anti naruto fandom #anti fanon sakura #anti fanon sasuke #I hope it's not crostagging I'm doing #please excuse any mistakes it's not my native language #sorry for the messy response anon #my thoughts were a bit of a mess when i wrote this

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 2 years

Text

Part 7 - Spirits, sorrow and surprise

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 6 -- Part 8

Summary: The boys celebrate the beginning of their Christmas break with a drink (or several) at their regular bar.

Warnings: (Vague) mention of blowjob, consumption of alcohol, fluff, some angst? Mentions of domestic violence. Tell me if I'm missing any.

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: This one was fun to write! Lots of interactions between the boys, intro of the next girlfriend, and for anyone who's been curious; by the end of this you'll know how Sy and Dani know each other.

Timeline-wise we're in the weekend after the first 6 chapters. I'd planned for ch7 to be a Charles-chapter, but I have 5 Christmas chapters and a NYE party to write and post (not including this one) meaning I'm hopelessly behind. Please forgive me.

@peaches1958 @keanureevesisbae Sorry if I'm keeping y'all busy ;)

“Fuck me, one more quiz from Laferrier and I’m switching majors,” Charles groaned as he and Walker left the lecture hall.

“Be glad you missed the last one, that was much worse,” August replied sourly.

“You aced the last one.” The surprise in Charles’ voice caused August to shoot a confused look at his friend.

“I fail to see how those things are mutually exclusive,” he shrugged, his voice thick with the kind of arrogance only types like Walker or Napoleon could get away with.

“Whatever, we’ve got two weeks of sweet freedom ahead of us,” Charles laughed. Walker happened to know Charles was hopelessly behind on nearly all assignments for all of his classes, but he couldn’t feel bad. The man couldn’t balance business and pleasure for shit, and all of this was his own fault. It wasn’t that he wasn’t smart - he always passed, and with minimal effort - he was just distracted a little too easily. And he was nothing like Mike, either, who was an idiot when it came to most things, but a borderline genius when you put him behind a computer.

“Sounds like a cause for a celebration,” Marshall turned up next to Charles, somewhat out of the blue, followed by Sherlock, who looked far more awake and confident than his friend.

“You look like you could use a drink,” Charles laughed, slapping Marshall on the back. He did look tired - not that that was unusual, but today it was striking.

“Just handed in a ten page psych-paper.” Marshall yawned. From the looks of it, he’d been up for the bigger part of the night, if not all of it.

“Keppler?” Walker asked - he was careful, not sure if Marshall had forgiven him for last weekend’s little episode yet. “Liebermann,” Sherlock said. The reply was accompanied by a groan from both Marshall and Walker. The fact that she was insanely hot didn’t make up for the fact that that woman was a fucking harpy. As the four of them walked home, Walker and Marshall talked about the paper some more - Walker had taken the course as an elective the year before. Sherlock gave up on trying to convince Marshall that his assignment was absolutely fine after about six tries.

“What’s up with you and the orchestra-girl,” Charles grinned. Making Sherlock feel awkward wasn’t the sole purpose of his question, but it was a nice bonus - and easily achieved.

For once, Sherlock decided to forego his regular answer (‘nothing’) and tell the truth: “Her name is Elena, and we… kissed.”

“And last week’s rehearsal went so poorly because you were imagining what her boobs look like?” Charles rolled his eyes. It’s not that he was trying to be a nosy, gossiping git, he was just curious. Inappropriately so, according to some - alright, according to most.

“I don’t have to imagine, I know what they look like.” The words were out of his mouth before he realized he’d even opened it. Walker and Marshall each raised an eyebrow and half-listened to the conversation between Sherlock and Charles while continuing their own.

“I’m impressed, Holmes. Mildly, but still. I was beginning to think I’d have to take her off your hands,” Charles laughed. The laughter was replaced by a sharp gasp when five fingers suddenly dug painfully into his shoulder and Sherlock appeared in front of him. Walter and August paused their conversation when they noticed what was going on.

“You so much as look at her wrong and I swear to you, Brandon, you will not walk away in one piece, do you hear me?” Three pairs of eyebrows were raised at this outburst: It very decidedly wasn’t like Sherlock at all to react like this - emotional and rash. He had a far better handle on his temper than August or even Geralt - in fact, none of the guys had been aware that Sherlock Holmes had a temper. Turns out he did, and it was quite intimidating.

“Sherlock,” Marshall said carefully, “I’m sure Charles was just joking.”

“I’m quite sure he wasn’t.”

Charles looked at him in disbelief. “You seriously think I’m that bad a friend?”

“I don’t think you are, but I can’t trust you aren’t.” Quite frankly, nobody could disagree with that statement.

“Solo, you have five minutes to finish up with whoever is underneath your desk right now, we’re going out for a drink.” Leon made a face at Walker’s remark - either he was too predictable, or August knew him a little too well.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you didn’t know how to knock,” Leon growled through gritted teeth. Walker barging in unannounced was unwelcome at the best of times, least of all when you were halfway through getting your dick sucked. When August disappeared and slammed the door shut, Leon looked down at the pretty blonde between his knees.

“Baby, I don’t need five minutes,” she purred, and with a devilish look in her eyes, she returned her attention to what she’d been doing. It wasn’t a lie; barely ten minutes later, Napoleon pulled the door of his room shut behind him.

“Sorry I’m late!” Mike threw his jacket over the back of the last available chair.

“No need, we’re grateful,” Sherlock said dryly, “had you been on time, all of us would’ve died of shock.” Everyone laughed at the joke. Nobody seemed to mind that he was the last to get there, but Mike couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty about it.

“Ask Elena what she thinks of guys who come last.” That one earned him a smack in the head from Marshall as soon as he sat down.

“Don’t get comfortable, you’re getting the next round,” Marshall told him. A round of drinks for the lot of them was usually an odd combination. The beers were the easy part, but the sometimes unusual whims of the guys who preferred something more decadent - usually August, Napoleon, Charles, Sherlock or, God save the poor bartender, all of the above - had on multiple occasions gotten you desperate looks from personnel. Occasionally, some of the more attractive female bartenders had even refused to sleep with Charles because of the tables consistently time consuming orders - and Charles rarely struck out.

“I’ll bring ‘em over, Mike, shift’s almost up, anyway!” Anjelica shouted from behind the bar, signaling you to sit back down. She’d been around long enough to know that waiting around by a bar could make Mikey annoying very quickly. He raised a hand by means of a ‘thank you’ and turned back.

“... as terrible as last week, practice somewhere else.” The group laughed at Leon’s remark, and even though Mike hadn’t heard the beginning of that sentence, he could guess that it was about Sherlock’s unusually bad rehearsal from last Saturday.

“Yeah, what was that all about?” Sy asked. His voice sounded genuine enough, but his face told a different story.

“Elena, of course,” Mike said - suggestive eyebrow-wiggle included - as he sat back down. Geralt scowled at both of them, annoyed at how immature they were being. Sherlock looked slightly uneasy, which wasn’t helped by the fact that Leon doubled down on the teasing by bringing up the bets that had been made about the situation between Sherlock and Elena. Right at that moment, Anjelica walked over to the table with the drinks and set them down.

“Can I sit?” She asked. Without waiting for an answer, she sat down in August’s lap and leaned her elbows on the table, dropping her face in her hands.

“Soooo?”

“Anjelica, don’t be ridiculous.”

“Sherlock, my friend Isabelle is on the volleyball team with Elena’s best friend Lahela’s roommate Susanna’s boyfriend’s sister Joanne,” Anjelica said with a sickly sweet smile on her face. Reactions to that sentence were divided between the Got Its and Got It Nots - as was proved by Sy’s eloquent response: “Huh?”

Leon was the one to answer, because he saw Anjelica open her mouth and she would no doubt try to explain the whole thing: “If she wants to know, she’ll find out.” Anjelica approved the summary with a meaningful shrug and another smile.

“Angie…” Sherlock rarely used Anjelica’s nickname.

“For God’s sake, man, you snogged her, you didn’t murder her mother,” Charles chuckled. He often shared the more intimate details of his life a little too freely, so this was getting on his nerves.

“Charles, when were you planning on leaving for Christmas?” Geralt interjected - he was thoroughly fed up with the entire conversation. His one-on-one with Sherlock on Friday had been awkward enough - and neither had had to worry about a whole table (and the rest of a room) full of people then. Anjelica was about to protest, but August wasn’t having that.

“Ange,” he said softly. When she turned to look at him, he just shook his head. The look in his eyes said it all. Charles also finally took the hint.

“I’m leaving tonight, Henry’s driving me and his sister Mary back. I’ll be back on the twenty-eighth, though. Can’t miss New Year’s Eve here,” he shared a meaningful look with Leon as he said that last bit. The conversation quickly turned to sharing holiday plans with each other. Leon was leaving the next morning, and returning on the 27th, just like Marshall.

“August?”

“He’s coming with me,” Anjelica answered before he could say anything. August didn’t look particularly happy about the whole situation - no one dared to suggest he was terrified to meet Anjelica’s family, though they did all consider that a very valid reason to be afraid.

“That whipped, huh?” Mike said jokingly, already preparing to duck in the event of flying glassware. It was probably a good thing that the man was on his third scotch and he was generally a pretty laid back drunk.

“What about you, Mikey?” Anjelica asked. Mike just shrugged and told her he wasn’t going home, indicating he didn’t want to talk about it any further, and despite being incredibly curious by nature, Anjelica felt it best not to press the matter. She moved her eyes to Sherlock and nodded at him to ask the same question.

“Staying to practice for the concert,” he said simply. Under his breath, but poorly disguised, Charles muttered some remark containing the words ‘snog’ and ‘Elena’, which earned him a swift kick in the shins from August - which in turn earned August an approving nod from Geralt.

“Sy?” Anjelica was now genuinely curious about the last few people at the table.

“Long as I ain’t plannin’ on apologizin’ to ma’s son of a bitch boyfriend, I ain’t welcome,” he growled. From the look on his face, everyone could tell he had no intention of apologizing.

“Apologize for what?” Anjelica whispered to August, knowing she probably wouldn’t get much of an answer out of him. She was right: he just made a gesture that meant something along the lines of ‘ask him yourself’, so she repeated the question out loud, to Sy.

“You ever wonder why I don’t use my first name?” He asked in return. She shook her head.

“I don’t even think I know your first name.”

“Nathaniel Evan Syverson,” Sy said, “Evan’s the name of my uncle, ma’s brother. He’s alright. Nathan’s ma’s boyfriend. He takes a li’l too kindly to beatin’ the shit out of her for my taste, so forgive me if I don’t exactly like the guy. She defends the piece of shit tooth ‘n nail, though. You can take that literally.”

“Shit, Sy,” Anjelica put a hand in front of her mouth. He said it so casually, as if it was the most normal thing. “What about you?” She couldn’t quite find the words to ask what she wanted to, but he understood perfectly.

“Oh he beat on me, too. Think I ain’t got a single rib that he ain’t broken at some point.” “No one ever suspected?”

“Oh, school knew. Never did nothin’, though.” Sy chuckled grimly. “Kept beatin’ on me ‘til I grew too big for him to take. Tried to hit ‘m back once…”

“What…” She couldn’t say anything else.

“Ma protected him. Ended up catchin’ my fist herself. That’s when she told me I wasn’t welcome no more ‘til I said I was sorry for tryna hit Nate.” Sy had been staring at the bottle in his hands for the entire duration of his story, which meant he was surprised and a bit startled by the arms that wrapped around his shoulders all of a sudden. He patted her arm softly.

“‘S alright, Ange, but thanks.” He was even more surprised when Anjelica pulled in a chair and sat next to him.

“Is that why you and August…” She had no idea how to finish the sentence she started, and she didn’t have to. Sy knew exactly what she was asking about. Everyone at that table did.

“Anjelica, what’s that?” Sy carefully grabbed her hand to get a better look at her wrist, where bluish-purple peaked from under her sleeves. She shook her hair back and smiled at him.

“It’s nothing, Sy,” she said sweetly, “nothing to worry about.” Everything could have been alright, if Mike hadn’t come into the kitchen at that moment, which made Anjelica turn her head. Sy’s eyes went wide when he saw the four spots on the side of her neck, and he grabbed her chin to search the other side for a matching one. When he found it, he stared at her for a while, connecting the dots as he gently raised his hand to her throat and hovered his fingers over the marks.

“Where is he?”

“Sy…”

“Where. Is. He?”

“Where is who?” Unfortunately for August, it was August who asked.

“You…” What came out of Sy’s throat was more vibration than sound; a low growl, dripping with pure, unadulterated rage. “I’m gonna kill you.” And without further warning, he lunged forward - practically through Mike - toward August, grabbing him by the shoulders and pinning him against the wall.

“Fuck!” Mike yelled as he jumped out of the way to avoid being tackled.

“Sy!” Anjelica was on the verge of tears, looking helplessly at Mike as she reached for Sy’s arms and tried to pull him away from August, “Sy, it’s not what you think!”

“Sy, let him go, man,” Mike tried. From the look on his face, Anjelica could tell he was shocked. August, on the other hand, looked completely calm.

“Please let go of me, Syverson, so I can explain.” He said it so matter-of-factly it was almost comical in this situation.

“If you think I’m gon’ let you justify beatin’ the fuck outta ya girl, you’re fuckin’ insane!”

“Sy,” Anjelica tried again, “that’s not…” He ignored her pleading again. When Sy pulled his arm back to punch Walker, Mike grabbed his arm. Unfortunately, he didn’t have the muscle to deal with a guy of Sy’s size, especially not when he was angry like this. Fortunately, they’d been making enough noise for the whole house to check out the situation, which quickly escalated to a full-blown fight between the two.

It had taken four guys - Geralt, Marshall, Charles and Mike - to pull the two apart, and they hadn’t managed before Sy got a couple of good blows in. Leon had taken care of Anjelica, who had curled up in a corner, scared that Sy would make good on his word to kill her boyfriend - friend, date, hookup… whatever they’d been back then. What had followed the fight was a lengthy and awkward conversation between the guys about the nature of Angie and August’s relationship, which ended with Sy stating very clearly that he neither understood nor supported the dynamic, but that he’d accept that it was their choice and none of his business. He’d never explained, though, why he’d had such a strong reaction to begin with.

“Yeah,” Sy finally answered Anjelica’s half-asked question. She gave him another hug - letting him know that she understood now - before walking back to August, who pulled her back into his lap.

“You knew.” It wasn’t a question: The look in his eyes was more than enough for Anjelica to figure it out.

“I did.”

“Why did you never tell me?”

“Wasn’t my story to tell, Angie.” Anjelica replied to that by rolling her eyes and then turned back around.

“Alright, where were we?” She asked cheerfully with a hint of that thing women did when they told you ‘it’s fine, do whatever you want’ when in reality, it wasn’t fine and you definitely shouldn’t do whatever you want. August knew he hadn’t heard the last of this yet, but for now, they were going to let it rest. “Geralt, your plans?”

“One moment,” he replied while holding up his phone. He answered it at the table, which Anjelica had found rude when she’d first met Geralt, but now she knew exactly what he was going to say.

“Sol? I’m at the bar with the guys, can I call you back?” He barely waited for an answer before he hung up.

“Sorry about that,” he said, “to answer your question: Me and my brothers don’t celebrate Christmas, so there’s no real reason for me to leave here.”

“You have brothers?” Anjelica asked, surprised that this had never come up before. According to Geralt, it was rather a long story, but she wanted to hear it nonetheless.

The other side of the table had moved on to a different subject altogether. Over the past hour, Sy and Marshall had been looking at Mike, who checked his phone nervously every five minutes. He seemed kind of sad.

“What’s up with you?” Marshall asked, one eyebrow raised.

“Dani,” Mike sighed, “we’ve barely talked since last weekend, and I have no idea what could’ve happened or if I did something wrong or something…” If there was anything he wanted to add, it was put on hold by Charles asking about the next round of drinks.

“Sucks,” Sy said dryly - a little too much, even for his doing.

“Can’t think of anything?” Marshall half-joked. He raised his hands apologetically when Mike shot him a dirty look.

“Alright, assuming it’s not you - ow! - I noticed she freaked out when she saw you,” he nodded in Sy’s direction, “what was that about?”

“I thought I saw something! Wasn’t sure though…” Mike said almost triumphantly. Sy looked at the beer in his hands, nervously tearing at the label. The atmosphere turned more awkward with every passing second.

“Look, Mikey…” That didn’t sound good. In fact, it sounded so bad that Marshall’s mouth fell open when he realized what Sy was trying to tell Mike.

“You fucked her,” Mike groaned in disbelief. Then, he fell silent for an uncharacteristically long moment before he started laughing and wondered out loud why he and Sy always went for the same girls.

“Dunno,” Sy laughed in reply, “good taste?”

“The most we can say is that you have similar taste,” Sherlock interjected, “that doesn’t necessarily mean it’s good.”

“At least now we know that Dani has terrible taste in men,” Marshall noted, “sleeping with just one of them could have been a lapse of judgment, but both of these jerks?”

“We can’t rule out charity,” Sherlock chuckled.

“Watch it, Holmes,” Mike said, obviously faking the threatening edge to his voice.

“So, we alright, Mikey?” Sy asked with an apologetic smile on his face.

“As long as it wasn’t somewhere in the past month,” Mike laughed - he clearly wasn’t mad, which made Sy sigh with relief.

“Orientation party,” he said, “we’re good, then?”

“Yeah, no big deal!” And he meant it - Mike was easy going even on his worst days.

The boys got louder with every new round of drinks. August, at some point, even abandoned his extreme aversion to PDA, which the others found quite amusing.

“God, Walker, keep your hands to yourself,” Geralt sneered. It surprised the others; he was usually the last person to care about others’ inappropriate behavior - and certainly the last to ever comment on it. Anjelica, Sherlock and Marshall were the only ones to pick up on the hint of jealousy in his voice. A gust of icy wind rolled into the bar when the door opened, but other than some shivers, no one took too much notice of it. Charles, Leon and Sy, who were sitting on the side of the table that faced the door, saw and recognized the tall blonde woman who entered the room. She was quick to raise a finger to her lips to signal that they should remain quiet, and then made her way over to their table, until she was standing right behind Geralt.

“You miss her.” Sherlock said when he heard the tinge of jealousy in the dark voice of his friend. Geralt just scoffed and nodded by means of a reply, not looking up from the glass in his hand.

“You don’t have to,” the blonde behind him said. Geralt jerked his head around so fast that any normal human would have pulled a muscle - or broken their neck. Part of it came from the sheer surprise of being snuck up on - that was a very hard thing to do to Geralt, even when he was a few drinks in - and partly because he recognized that voice immediately. He’d been dreaming of hearing that voice this close to him for weeks. Another fraction of a second later, he stood up - without much subtlety; she had to step aside to avoid taking a chair to the knee.

“Sol?” He stared at her in disbelief. Was it really her? Was she really here? He reached one hand to the side of her face, slowly and hesitantly. Whoever looked closely enough could see that he almost trembled. It was as if he didn’t trust his own eyes. Until his fingers touched her skin. In a split second, he pulled her against his body and pressed his lips to hers. The kiss was far too passionate - and involved entirely too much tongue - to be appropriate in public, but the boys let it slide. Even Walker, who clearly fought with the desire to throw Geralt’s comment from earlier back into his face. These two hadn’t seen each other in months - they deserved this.

“Solveig,” Sherlock answered the unasked question on Anjelica’s face, “Geralt’s girlfriend of… at least two years, they were together when I moved in.”

“We’re indulging them because they’re long distance and he hasn’t seen her in four months,” August added. Anjelica chuckled and seemed to decide that that little fact made the entire situation endearing rather than gross.

“Five months and two weeks.” Geralt and Solveig had finally managed to tear themselves away from the other and sat down. Unlike Anjelica, Solveig grabbed a chair and sat between Geralt and Sherlock. “And we’ve been together for three years.”

“Three years, today,” Solveig added, “December twenty-second. Midwinter.”

“A long night, indeed,” Charles joked.

“Hm.” It was Geralt’s favorite multi-purpose remark. This time, it was mostly a chuckle, while the expression on his face suggested there was at least some truth to the statement. After congratulations from everyone, and a quickly squeezed in introduction of Solveig to Anjelica and vice versa, Geralt got up to get his girl a drink.

“Are you staying with us, Sol,” Sherlock asked.

“For the holidays, if that’s alright,” she looked around the table; nobody seemed to have any problems with it.

“I’d have loved to see them do anything about it,” Geralt laughed. Everyone shuddered at the thought of having to deal with an angry Geralt. “You’re staying two weeks, then?”

“I’m staying until I graduate,” she answered shyly - it was clear that this hadn’t been brought up between them before, “I was offered a place to finish my master’s here.”

“You never…”

“I didn’t want you to think I did it for you,” she whispered apologetically, “I didn’t want me to think I did it for you.”

“Did you find a place here?” Geralt asked it carefully, but everyone knew he was praying to any god who would listen that she wouldn’t ask to move in with him. Not that Walker or Sherlock wouldn’t be quick to point out that the lease didn’t allow that, but still.

“I did, I will get the keys on the second of January,” she smiled. Solveig knew exactly what the intentions behind that question had been. Talk at the table shifted to dinner - Mike and Sy were getting hungry, which meant one of them got jittery and the other cranky. Luckily, the bar served good burgers.

“Geralt, why don’t you take Solveig home to get settled in,” Marshall said casually, “she looks beat from the flight.” Mike opened his mouth to say something but was shut up by a kick in the shins from Sherlock.

“Don’t you need to eat,” Anjelica asked Solveig with a hint of concern in her voice. Both Napoleon and August answered, suggesting takeout and leftover pasta from the day before, respectively.

Solveig and Geralt didn’t linger - as per everyone’s expectations. Anjelica wondered out loud whether the guys had a problem with Solveig, which resulted in laughter from her audience.

“They haven’t seen each other for nearly six months,” Sy chuckled and, after he finished his beer, started taking orders for the next round.

“We owe it to them to give them the house for a few hours,” Napoleon added with a grin on his face.

“We owe it to ourselves to stay away for a few hours,” Mike snickered. Everyone cracked up at that; truer words had never been spoken.

-> Part 8

#henry cavill #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill characters #august walker #geralt of rivia #napoleon solo #charles brandon #sherlock holmes #henry cavill sherlock holmes #mike hellraiser #captain syverson #walter marshall #geralt of rivia x OFC #mike hellraiser x ofc #august walker x ofc

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localvoidcat · 1 year

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GOD seeing your alt thatcher drabble makes me wanna request him so bad bc you wrote him so well <333333333333

maybe him and another character or smth i just love this man too much <3

(you dont have to btw im just insane LMAO)

OHOHO THIS MADE ME REMEMBER A SCENE. OKAY HANG ON. ML!AU BE UPON YE ONCE AGAIN

the first thing he felt upon waking up was pain. a dull ache that turned sharp as it thudded against his head, fading in and out like a wave that seeped through his skull.

the second thing he felt upon waking up was a presence that couldn't be described in any way other than a sudden spike of terror in his chest.

he drew in a quick breath of air, and a voice tore through the presence.

"hey, calm down. it's just me."

dave let out a sigh of relief, one that did nothing to ease the tension he felt. "oh. thatcher." a pause. "what time is it?"

"it doesn't really matter," thatcher said, his voice monotone. "it's not like we're going anywhere."

"right," dave mumbled, "right."

there was a sound of fabric shifting, one that sounded different to the one he'd heard when thatcher first found him. he didn't give it too much thought - no one would want to keep wearing clothes stained with their friend's blood.

"are you okay?" again, thatcher's words rang through flat. maybe he was just tired.

"yeah. yeah," dave repeated, "i'm okay." and almost on cue, another wave of pain rolled in. he winced.

"are you in pain?"

"a little," he said, regretting it as soon as he did. "not as much as before. it should be fi-"

his words died out on his tongue, and the terror rose higher.

the hand upon his own did not feel like a hand.

"dave?" the voice that sounded like thatcher asked, but dave couldn't bring himself to respond.

human skin did not feel so cold. human skin did not feel like wet clay.

"is everything alright?" the tone held an echo of something that he couldn't recognize at first, but did eventually: a poorly-hidden excitement rising within it.

"who are you?" dave asked, and the words came out more timid than he liked. the hand that was not a hand seemed to melt down his own.

"what do you mean, david?" he didn't need to see it to know that whatever it was, if it even had a face to do so, was smiling wickedly at him. "i'm your friend."

his body stiffened in a mixture of pain and terror, and his own scratchy voice screamed out at the thing.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU?"

#mark lives au #sam writes #THIRD PART OF THE DIVORCEDUO SEGMENT LET'S GO #anyways. this is that scene i was talking about ^_^#im so glad i was reminded of alt thatcher i really wanted to get this out

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thisurlwasnttakenbutnowitis · 11 months

Text

Every Epic Rap Battle of History ranked

All right folks, sit down and strap in, cause this is gonna be a long one. So I recently got to rewatching Epic Rap Battles of History, as I do once a year or so. As I was watching through them all, I started to feel tempted to rank all the battles in a tier list. However, once I had ranked them, I felt like I needed to explain my reasoning for each battle's placement, and one thing led to another until eventually I had churned out this 14k word monstrosity. So here we go, I will be ranking all 86 current Epic Rap Battles of History from worst to best, explaining my thoughts on each one, as well as giving my opinion of who won the battle and what I thought the best line in each one was (which is not necessarily delivered by who I think the winner is):

F TIER

86. Sarah Palin vs Lady Gaga

Winner: Lady Gaga

Best line: "Governor of Alaska? That's like the principal of a home school."

This one is just terrible, plain and simple. I honestly don't think many people would disagree with me that this is one of the worst. The best I can say about it is that the person they got to play Sarah Palin looks and sounds the part pretty well. But everything else just falls flat on its face. A matchup with no chemistry, lyrics that are purely surface level with no deeper meaning, oh, and some poorly-aged jokes about "transvestites" for good measure. Frankly I'm surprised that Henry VIII vs Hillary Clinton was scrapped because it didn't meet Peter's and Lloyd's standards, yet this somehow managed to make it through all the way to becoming a finished product.

(For reference, I won't be officially ranking Henry VIII vs Hillary Clinton since it wasn't released as a finished, official episode, but it's honestly better than anything I'm putting in D or F tier. It'd probably fall somewhere near the bottom of C tier.)

85. Adam vs Eve

Winner: Adam

Best line: "It ain't Summer, Eve. Don't try to play me like a douche. You wanna bite on my fruit? Well, you can swallow the truth."

Honestly I would consider this the most painful episode to watch. As bad as Gaga vs Palin is, I would rather sit through that than this shit any day of the week. The only reason this ranks higher is simply because the lyrics are a bit more clever. Emphasis on "a bit", because only 5% of the lyrics have anything to do with the titular Biblical characters, and the other 95% are generic "man vs woman" lines using the most tired stereotypes you can imagine. "You're a slob", "Well, you're naggy". There, that's the whole battle summed up for you. What a waste of Jenna Marbles as a guest star.

84. Bruce Banner vs Bruce Jenner

Winner: Bruce Banner

Best line: "After battling me, you're gonna always be pissed. So the Hulk will stay forever, neither Bruce will exist."

There's a reason this video has the highest dislike-to-like ratio of any battle in ERB history. I mean, part of that is probably transphobes being mad at the existence of a trans person being acknowledged, but that alone wouldn't make it so hated if the battle was otherwise good. But as you can probably guess, it's not. For a video that was meant to show allyship to the trans community, how did no one on the staff point out that it might be a bad idea to directly compare a person transitioning to a comic book character transforming into a monster? This was just a bad idea from the start.

The first half of the battle is decent, but once the two do their transformation scene, it completely falls apart. On one hand, it feels like they were too scared to make Hulk really pack a punch with his lines out of fear of coming off as transphobic, so they just gave him barely any lines at all. But one of the lines he does have honestly still comes off as pretty transphobic: "That painted face don't give you class, just one more thing Bruce do for cash". Yikes. And then Caitlyn proceeds to have the most long, rambling verse in ERB history that doesn't have a single line that says anything with any substance except for the last one.

Look, I appreciate that at the heart of this battle was an attempt at showing love for the trans community. It had good intentions, but it's pretty clear that the idea and writing came from two cis dudes who were out of their element, and it really should have been shot down at the concept phase.

D TIER

83. Justin Bieber vs Beethoven

Winner: Beethoven

Best line: "There's a crowd of millions waiting to hear my symphonies. You wanna be a little white Usher? Here, show 'em to their seats.

Man, remember when hating on Justin Bieber was a whole-ass personality trait? I would know, that was me. From the start, this is clearly made to be a one-sided battle with how deliberately annoying Bieber's portrayal is. Peter's version of Beethoven is actually pretty decent though which is what stops this from slipping down into F. It's also a nice touch that a remix of Beethoven's 5th symphony is the background music, though it does get points deducted due to the music not even attempting to switch to something different when Bieber is rapping. Just goes to show how much this battle was made to be stacked against Bieber.

82. Ash Ketchum vs Charles Darwin

Winner: Charles Darwin

Best line: “Your shit-talking mouth is the origin of feces!”

From one annoying portrayal to another, we have Ash Ketchum. I don't think that this one was intentionally made to be bad though. But God, Ash is insufferable here. Completely interrupting the song to make a joke about barnacle dick, and let's not forget the cringiest line in series history - "You've got candy raps, Reese's pieces", a line that has absolutely nothing to do with either character and could have at least been marginally fixed by just changing it to "Rhesus pieces", as in Rhesus monkeys, which Darwin actually did study.

I was actually one of the many people suggesting this matchup before it happened, and I remember when the battle finally came out, I tried to convince myself that I liked it more than I actually did, because hey, cool, they did an episode about Pokemon! I love Pokemon! But the more I look back on it, the more I realize how disappointing it is as a Pokemon fan. Mat4yo of the YouTube series "Chisel This" (which does in-depth analyses of the lyrics and musical structures of ERBs, highly recommend checking it out) was brought in as a Pokemon expert to assist on this battle since it was a series Peter and Lloyd weren't too familiar with, and while that did result in a couple of semi-obscure Pokemon references such as the old man glitch or how Ash had not caught a Ghost type up to that point, ultimately most of what he wrote ended up being scrapped, and the rest of the Pokemon jokes ended up being the lowest-hanging fruit that Pokemon fans had been hearing jokes about for over a decade at that point. "Haha, Pokemon battles are like dog fighting". "Haha, Professor Oak fucked Ash's mom". "Haha, Pokeballs, it's funny because we said balls".

Just like the last one, Peter's portrayal is the one thing keeping this from slipping down to F.

C TIER

81. John Lennon vs Bill O'Reilly

Winner: Bill O'Reilly

Best line: "You're Paul McCartney's bitch with less talent than Ringo, and I'd rather suck George Bush's dick than Yoko Ono's."

The battle that started it all ranks near the bottom, but that does go to show that they just went up from here (for the most part). Probably ties with Gaga vs Palin as the matchup that most makes me go "How did anyone even think of this, what link do these two even have". I'm guessing the theme of both battles is meant to be a conservative vs a liberal? I dunno. There's really not much to say on this one. It's pretty basic, but I get it. It was the first of its kind and was apparently produced on a budget of only $50. By those standards, it's all right.

80. Donald Trump vs Ebenezer Scrooge

Winner: J.P. Morgan

Best line: "Don’t panic, Scrooge, but you’re about to crash. I’m J.P. Morgan, the Ghost of Rich Dudes Past! Who’s properly rocking the Monopoly mustache! Yo, I own the railroad, I run these tracks!”

This one is weird in hindsight, made in a time before Trump's voice and mannerisms became burned into everyone's minds. I don't think anyone would disagree that Lloyd's later portrayal of Trump was way more accurate. Peter's impression here is basically just yelling. Speaking of portrayals as well, this is the first battle involving frequent guest star Zach Sherwin on this list, and I have to say, even in mediocre battles like this one, he always knocks it out of the park as whoever he's playing. I don't think there's been a single bad Zach appearance.

This is a battle where I think the idea was really solid, it just didn't turn out as good as maybe it could have. Telling the story of A Christmas Carol through rap battles, while also switching out the ghosts for other iconic rich people was a pretty brilliant move on paper. Just, I dunno, I feel like this is the weakest of the ensemble battles. I think what it comes down to is that it was a bit too ambitious for the budget they had at the time. Something like this would have benefited from being in season 5 or 6 when they could really go all out with sets and special effects. I mean, they go through the iconic scene of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come showing Scrooge his own grave, but it all takes place in Scrooge's bedroom and we don't even get to see the grave.

A sidenote about this one too is that Donald Trump actually saw it and responded to it. I wonder if he ever saw any of the later ones starring him.

79. Elon Musk vs Mark Zuckerberg

Winner: Mark Zuckerberg

Best line: "I've been looking up your family, it gets dark, my God! Couldn't clean your daddy's laundry with Apar-Tide pods."

It's kinda funny that these two actually have more in common now than they did when the battle came out thanks to Musk's takeover of Twitter. I feel like I'm placing this battle lower than most would. Lyrically, it's very clever (rhyming "sprinkle tossed in" with "Winklevoss twins" may just be the smartest rhyme in series history), but I just don't really like the portrayal of either character in this. They're both just kind of obnoxious, which is true to life admittedly, but still.

I was going to say "This was the first battle after they broke off with Maker Studios and went independent, and it definitely shows in the visuals department, because the special effects are rough". And while still think the shots of Musk flying to Mars look pretty bad, I don't think it has to do with the split with Maker Studios; because the very next battle that came out after this one was Freddy Krueger vs Wolverine, and that is still possibly the most visually impressive battle they've ever done. It probably had more to do with the fact that this was considered a "bonus battle" rather than the true season 6 premiere, so it probably was just given a shoestring budget so that the actual effort could go into Krueger vs Wolverine. It's gonna be a while before we talk about that battle, so I think it's safe to say that sacrifice paid off.

78. Columbus vs Captain Kirk

Winner: Columbus

Best line: "Why don't you boldly go someplace you've never gone before, like India, or any destination you actually set sail for?"

I'm noticing I'm saying "I think this character's portrayal was annoying" quite a lot in these bottom 10 spots, but it makes sense that that would really sink a battle for me when I find half of it hard to even listen to. So, yeah, Lloyd does a William Shatner impression that completely breaks the flow, and it's funny as a joke but not very fun to listen to as music.

A sidenote about this one is that I always misremember it as being a season 2 battle. I think for whatever reason it was the one season 1 battle that never popped up in my recommended until season 2 was already underway.

77. Gandalf vs Dumbledore

Winner: Gandalf

Best line: "I leave mics in flames, torched by Gandalf. Touch mine, Dumbledore, and scorch your other hand off!"

This was another battle that could have benefited from coming later, both from a writing and visuals standpoint. Early ERBs were very short with lyrics that didn't run too deep, and both of these characters come from universes with such rich lore that there's so much more you can do with (this was the first battle where both rappers were fictional, actually). Fortunately, both universes would get time to shine with more clever writing, thanks to JRR Tolkien vs George RR Martin and Harry Potter vs Luke Skywalker. The visuals for a video between two masters of magic also definitely leaves something to be desired. This was another one that should have been held off on until about season 5 or 6. They probably would have relied less on the "Dumbledore is gay" jokes if that had happened too, so that would have been another plus.

76. Batman vs Sherlock Holmes

Winner: Sherlock Holmes

Best line: "You're shamed and traumatized and haunted by the vast disgrace of watching like a passive waste as momma died and daddy was dispatched with haste!"

And here we have another bad portrayal, one that's so infamous that even ERB itself has acknowledged it. Peter is not a good Batman, just plain and simple. It's a shame that it brings an otherwise good battle down. Zach Sherwin kills it as Sherlock Holmes, and the actor for Dr. Watson also does a great job. Even Robin's part is fun. Outside of Batman, the only part I don't really like is how Sherlock interrupts the song to think about what he's about to do for his second verse. I get that it's in-character for him, but it kills the pacing.

75. Hitler vs. Vader 3

Winner: Hitler

Best line: "Screw you, you big black cunt! I'll kick your balls and your face: a war on two fronts!"

The final entry in the iconic Hitler vs Vader trilogy, and the weakest one in my opinion. I think it's pretty clear that they were running out of things to say about this matchup by this point. I mean, hell, part of Vader's verse is taken up by Boba Fett coming in and just bragging about himself rather than saying anything about his opponent. Feels like it was just there to take up time.

74. Donald Trump vs Joe Biden

Winner: Donald Trump

Best line: "Your campaign's like your family: crash and burn."

This was a battle that was very clearly affected by Covid. Aside from the animated Harry Potter vs Luke Skywalker, this was the only battle to come out in 2020. I appreciate that the team put together what they could in the midst of the raging pandemic, but as a consequence, it doesn't have the spectacle of the other presidential battles. What was once planned to be a battle royale with Bernie Sanders and Ronald Reagan joining the fight was cut down to a simple one-on-one, with Abe Lincoln not even making an appearance. As such, while the matchup does feel more fairly written than Trump vs Hillary, it also just has less overall to remember.

Some parts of this battle have aged interestingly looking back on it three years later: Trump condemning "looting and violence" right before January 6th happened; also him saying that Roe vs Wade would get repealed, which ended up happening despite Biden winning. And 200k being given as the death count for Covid at the time, woof, if only it had stayed that low.

73. Oprah vs Ellen

Winner: Ellen

Best line: "So if battling me is your intention, I better mention, you're bout to get licked by a lesbian."

Well, this one hasn't exactly aged gracefully with what we now know about Ellen DeGeneres and how she ran her talk show, but I'm not going to hold that against this battle. What I will say is that this is a battle that I constantly forget exists (side note: in the time between writing this and going back through the list to insert the images, I had already once again forgotten this battle existed). Two current-day celebrities who are both rivals in the same field just isn't much of an exciting idea for an Epic Rap Battle of History; there just isn't too much you can do with that and it shows here. I will say though, the casting on both Oprah and Ellen was great, the two actresses definitely exude all the charisma that the real women do on their shows.

72. Donald Trump vs Hillary Clinton

Winner: Hillary Clinton

Best line: "You wanna talk about misogyny? Your Bill's worse than Cosby. He left a mess on that dress like you left in Benghazi!"

And just squeaking by the previous Trump election battle, we have the original one. This one is clearly much more biased against Trump, barely saying anything bad about Hillary and making Trump out to be a massive prick. Which, okay, is true, but in the context of a rap battle, a rapper's own lines generally shouldn't make them look worse. Honestly though, this battle is just more fun and energetic than Trump vs Biden, and that's why it's slightly higher.

71. Hulk Hogan vs Kim Jong-il

Winner: Hulk Hogan

Best line: "You're a freak, a phony, a Rice-a-roni jabroni! I'm gonna bounce you like a check for my alimony!

Before every fanmade rap battle beat the idea into the ground, this was the OG of introducing a surprise third rapper into the mix. This one is just funny. "Beijing is in China, you blond asshole" still gets a kick out of me. This is another early series matchup where the two rappers have absolutely nothing in common, but this one turned out better than you'd think from just looking at the title. Also love the re-edited version of this that brings the special effects up, though sadly it couldn't make Peter's muscle suit look good.

B TIER

70. Billy Mays vs Ben Franklin

Winner: Billy Mays

Best line: "You following me, camera guy? Cause it's about to get furious. You're gonna love my nuts 'til you're bi-focal-curious!"

I wonder if younger fans of ERB even know who Billy Mays and Vince Offer were. It's a sad thing to think about. The ending of the battle where Billy Mays just straight-up dies and Vince comes in to close it out is iconic. Ben Franklin's lines are kinda whatever, it's the salespeople that steal the show, but that's kinda to be expected. Also the person they got to play Billy Mays is perfect.

69. Doc Brown vs Doctor Who

Winner: Doctor Who

Best line: "You're not a cat with nine lives, you're a pussy with thirteen."

Admittedly I'm not too familiar with Doctor Who, so I'm certain some references went over my head on this one. Despite that and my love for Back to the Future, I've gotta hand it to the Doctor. Having him die and regenerate halfway through the battle was a cool idea, and both actors that portray him are really fun and embody the charisma I know the character is known for. The joke about how Doctor Who's special effects suck and you can see a hand manipulating the TARDIS in the background I think is one of the funniest jokes the series has ever done.

68. Dr. Seuss vs Shakespeare

Winner: The Cat in the Hat

Best line: "You bore people to death! You leave a classroom looking like the end of MacBeth!"

This is a battle that would be a lot higher were it not for one thing. Well, two things actually - Thing 1 and Thing 2. The first three verses are utterly fantastic - Shakespeare's first verse written in iambic pentameter, the Cat in the Hat hitting with some of the most clever lines in season 1, and of course, Shakespeare's iconic rapid-fire second verse. And then… Thing 1 and Thing 2. Purely awful. Painful to listen to. Any time I rewatch this battle, I turn it off once Shakespeare is done.

67. Nice Peter vs EpicLLOYD 2

Winner: EpicLLOYD

Best line: "I'm trying to make art, motherfucker, you're trying to find a rhyme for 'erection'!"

This battle feels like it was made more for the crew of ERB than the audience with all the inside jokes about production. It's also noticeably meaner and more personal than NP vs EL 1, and I remember it made me worried just how much resentment the two apparently had underneath the surface. This battle was put out to announce that the series would be going on hiatus, and the way it came off with how sick and tired Peter and Lloyd were of everything, I honestly thought ERB might never come back. Thankfully that wasn't the case. I'm sure it was all in good fun, but man, the frustrations the two expressed in this felt so raw, and I'm sure a lot of that anger was genuine.

66. Frederick Douglass vs Thomas Jefferson

Winner: Frederick Douglass

Best line: "You got a self-evident truth of your own: You let freedom ring but never picked up the phone!"

Like Banner vs Jenner, this is another battle that felt afraid to throw any real punches towards one of the rappers. Jefferson's first verse is mostly just talking himself up, then the whole thing kinda just becomes a soapbox about slavery. It's really kinda lame how Jefferson's entire second verse is solely dedicated to defending himself.

This battle was ERB's one real attempt to push themselves as an educational series, as evidenced by the fact that this is the one and only battle to release a censored version so it could be shown in classrooms, and I think that's kinda why this one comes across a little preachy. That being said, it's certainly not bad.

65. Frank Sinatra vs Freddie Mercury

Winner: Freddie Mercury

Best line: "So kiss my ass, Frankie, but you'll have to wait in line."

Here we have a great performance paired with a lackluster performance to make a middle-of-the-road battle overall. Obviously Freddie had more charm than Sinatra, but man, Sinatra's portrayal in this is so boring. The fact that more than half of his disses are just gay jokes doesn't really do him any favors either. Peter's Freddie Mercury though is amazing, and I love how Freddie gets to rap in a style unlike anyone else in the series that mimics the iconic sound of Queen.

64. Nice Peter vs EpicLLOYD

Winner: Nice Peter

Best line: "I drew a mustache on your face and you played a mean Hitler. Take the mustache away, you look more like Bette Midler."

This was the season 1 finale and it was a perfect tribute to everything that had been done so far. Seeing flashes of every character the two had played up to that point was so cool, and it was fun to see the two creators duke it out, albeit in a lighthearted, clearly joking way. It's very interesting to compare the tone of this to the rematch, showing how attitudes change when a fun project with your buddy becomes your job, and how that can leave you feeling jaded over time.

63. Bob Ross vs Pablo Picasso

Winner: Pablo Picasso

Best line: "I am the greatest, the modern art Muhammad Ali. I melt faces, call me MC Dali."

Peter and Lloyd both make really funny foils here, and the visuals of this one really stand out, as to be expected from a battle with two painters. Picasso giving out his ridiculously long full name followed by a deadpan "Back to you, Bob" will always be hilarious.

62. Sir Isaac Newton vs Bill Nye

Winner: Sir Isaac Newton

Best line: "You wanna battle, guy? That's a crazy notion! When I start flowing, I stay in motion!"

Been a fan of Weird Al since I was a young one, so obviously I loved seeing him in this. He definitely stole the show here as he so often does. Not too big of a fan of Bill Nye or Neil DeGrasse Tyson's verses though, and I don't really know why Peter went for that kind of voice with Bill Nye.

61. Jeff Bezos vs Mansa Musa

Winner: Mansa Musa

Best line: "Here's a nugget of advice to get your union problems handled: Want workers that don't piss? Hire some camels!"

Another battle where one rapper blows it out of the water while the other is just okay. Scru Face Jean, a YouTube rapper who had previously done reaction videos for ERB, portrays Mansa Musa and had a hand in helping write his character's verses, and it definitely shows. Every one of Musa's lines is brilliantly crafted with super clever wordplay. Jeff Bezos meanwhile… ehh, more misses than hits in my opinion.

60. Abe Lincoln vs Chuck Norris

Winner: Abe Lincoln

Best line: "I read up on your facts, you cure cancer with your tears? Well tell me Chuck, how come you never sat down and cried on your career?"

This is a certified classic. This is also another completely random season 1 matchup but I think this battle is so iconic that I don't even question it. While Chuck Norris jokes aren't exactly funny anymore, I still get an ironic kick out of the absurdity of this battle. I actually got introduced to ERB through a teacher showing some videos to the class. While we got through Einstein vs Hawking with no issue, the teacher immediately turned it off at the line "I wear a black belt on the beard that I grow on my dick" in this video.

59. Miley Cyrus vs Joan of Arc

Winner: Joan of Arc

Best line: "Je suis la fille en feu; call me Katniss Everdeen!"

This was the absolute favorite of a high school friend of mine, she's probably the only person to have listened to this battle enough to be able to recite it by heart. Can't say I particularly love it, but I also don't seem to hate it as much as most people. I think it's pretty good! Joan of Arc being a devoutly religious person really contrasts well with Miley Cyrus and kind of acts as a stand-in for the moral outrage that Miley was facing at the time. Both actresses also nail their roles. As much as this battle was clearly a "headline of the moment" battle, I still think it holds up decently today.

58. Stephen King vs Edgar Allan Poe

Winner: Edgar Allan Poe

Best line: "Masque of the Red Death? Barely blood-curdling. Pit and the Pendulum? Not even unnerving. Perving on your first cousin when she’s 13 years old? Now that’s disturbing.”

My main disappointment with this battle is just how many more lines King gets than Poe does. Especially with Poe's second verse being so fast, it just leaves King feeling like he's taking up way too much screen time. King's second verse also isn't all too great. That said, both of Poe's verses are good, and King's first is really fun with all the puns he makes with his book names.

All right folks, so I’ve actually gotta split this list up into 3 parts since Tumblr only allows 30 images per post. Click here for part 2!

#epic rap battles of history #erb

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alliofthegaps · 10 months

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I'm a shithead.

I don't mean that I'm mean-spirited or that I treat others poorly, though I'm sure some would agree with that description too.

I see other people with such good ideas that they are able to put them to form. Not just random wisps of inspiration that float past, the scent catching their noses like the pleasant odors of a freshly baked pie set upon the windowsill, only to set them down and pass them by after a time.

No, I mean truly good ideas; the kind that stick with them long enough to make a video or an essay or even a movie. It takes work to do something like that, and these ideas are the kind that work doesn't drown out, but rather the kind that motivates work to continue. Ideas that bounce around their heads with such fervor that they must give them such form or else risk concussion from all the brain-rattling.

I, on the other hand, have nothing but shit in my own head. Sure, sometimes, I'll catch that whiff of inspiration upon seeing someone else's good ideas, and I'll get the impulse to tell my own version filtered through my own lens, but the moment I sit to write it out it's revealed for what it truly is.

Utter, non-transmutable shit. I can't dress it up like something it isn't, because I always know what it is. I can't perfume it, because now that I've smelt it, I can always sense that rancid odor just beneath. It's shit, it's been shit, and it's not likely to be replaced by non-shit any time soon.

And academically, I know why it's like this. I grew up white in a series of abusive and neglectful homes that didn't quite pull through the '08 recession. Scared, white, and working poor is a potent combination, and if I weren't too queer or disabled to fit into the mold my childhood tried to fit me in I'm sure I'd have a much different, though not necessarily better, life.

When I was younger, I used to write all the time. I thought of stories as ways for us to imagine what could be possible beyond what society told us was probable. I can't claim any of it was good; it was mostly self-insert anime fanfiction in which I got to have the power to do the right thing without consequence. But it's still more than I can make today, and I think some of the action holds up.

Nowadays, if I go to write anything that isn't some depressing ramble about how much I don't want to be alive without saying the big S word, I sit there, fish-eyed, staring past the empty word document on my screen as I struggle to find any words at all. If I do get something out, I have to push past it or else risk ruining the entire idea in my mind as I pick every piece apart as either not impactful enough or over-engineered and therefore unrelatable and constructed.

Maybe it's the fact that I've been in autistic burnout off and on for most of a decade, or maybe it's because I'm finally deconstructing my biases and am troubled by what my mind seeks to produce. Maybe being a system that can't ever not dissociate without everyone bickering over everything makes it impossible to ever be able to stick with an idea long enough to make something of it.

Maybe I'm just too broken, and so all my ideas are shit. Seems like the easy answer, at least. Sure, there's probably some world in which a brain like mine could make something more that a depression post or a rambling tiktok. But in this world?

I'm just tired, and an easy answer- an easy way out- sounds like the closest thing to peace I'll ever get.

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slimeywooper · 10 months

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Labmas AU - Unintended Consequences

Chapter 13 Part 2 - Visit

CW: a curse word early on

There's a distant ringing in your ears. Opening an eye, you peek at your nightstand, where your phone is going off. Pushing the covers aside, you begrudgingly get out of bed to see who it is. Adjusting your gaze to the screen, you see it's Colress calling you. Of course it is, who else would it be? It's not even 5:10 a.m. and he's trying to contact you. Answering the call, you wearily say, "Hello?"

"Are you up? You sound like you're still half asleep," he comments.

Too tired to think up a decent rebuttal, you answer, "Well, that's because I am. I usually don't get up until—"

"There's no time! Those idiots from Gear Station are on their way here now! They just called me." Is this supposed to mean something to you? Wracking your brain about where you may have heard 'Gear Station' from, Colress snaps from your lack of comprehension, exclaiming, "The horrible twins I made Noku from, remember?"

"Oh, right. What do they want?" you ask with a disinterested tone.

"I'll explain later! Just get down here!" Beginning to rant to himself, Colress goes off, "Why did they have to come today? Are they trying to make it a 'thing?' It's just going to set him off. I can't deal with this shit. There's so much work to be done…"

It doesn't sound like he's going to stop anytime soon, so you tell him, "Yeah, I'll be there in a minute," before hanging up. Being awoken this early is never a good omen, and with how poorly the last two days have gone, you aren't filled with much hope for today. Even after getting a more than usual amount of sleep, you still feel sluggish. Perhaps you are becoming depressed from all the chaos that has been happening. As quickly as you are able, you prepare for the day, putting on your newly cleaned lab coat last, and going downstairs. Colress is pacing by the elevator that leads to the laboratory, clearly agitated.

Noticing you shamble towards him, he looks up and announces, "Finally! What took you so long? Come on, we have to intercept them. I don't want them attempting to meander around the laboratory."

Suppressing a yawn, you comment, "Don't you need a key card to get most anywhere in the lab?"

He stops his pacing and faces you, giving a stern admonishment, "Not now! Don't get smart with me!"

"What exactly do they want?" you repeat the question from earlier, much too exhausted to care about his ill temper.

"I can only presume they are here to give me a report. I've told them they need to give prior notification before showing up, not calling me right before they get here. I'm tired of them thinking they own the place and coming any time they want. It's Team Plasma that helps them keep that stupid station running." He repeatedly presses the elevator call button, as if attempting to make it arrive faster.

Unsure of why you are heading downstairs instead of waiting for them to arrive, you suggest, "Shouldn't we wait at the Plasma headquarters entrance?"

Colress answers with an air of irritation, "They take a personal tram to get here. It connects directly from Gear Station to the laboratory's reception room. We can't have anyone knowing they are helping Team Plasma. It wouldn't look good for either side." The elevator doors open and he grabs your wrist, pulling you in.

"Ow, okay, I'm coming." You wince from the pressure of his grip. After the doors close, he releases you. There is still a question of what the Subway Bosses are helping Team Plasma with, but Colress seems to already be in such a fragile mental state, you don't want to push him by asking for more information.

As you tend to your throbbing wrist, he enlightens you on what actions the two of you are going to take, "Here's the game plan: we're going to greet Ingo and Emmet, then you're going to go downstairs and retrieve Nobori and Kudari. As much as I abhor this, if Kudari doesn't get to see them, he will be inconsolable. He's hard enough to control as it is, I don't even want to think of the tantrums that will result if I deny him this. I'm going to try to get the Subway Bosses out of here as quickly as possible." The doors open, and you both step out to see two waiting figures.

Seeing the twin Subway Bosses, you wondered how you ever thought Colress was potentially the human DNA half of the hybrids. Though to be fair, that's all you thought it was, donor DNA, not cloning. Ingo and Emmet are the spitting images of Nobori and Kudari. Or rather, the other way around. They are wearing long, matching coats, one in black, and the other in white. The stylized conductor's caps that adorned their heads cover their hair, but they have the same sideburns as the hybrids. You don't know which is which, but the one in the black coat with the scowl has to be the twin that Nobori was cloned from.

Colress isn't bothering to try to sound welcoming when he addresses them, "Hello, Ingo and Emmet. What prompted you to grace us with your presence today?"

The one wearing black answers him, "We're here with our progress report. We felt because it has been a few years since we came in person, it would be appropriate for us to do so. Only to make sure we are on the same page, of course."

"Of course," Colress parrots back.

Turning to you, the black clad twin introduces himself, "How do you do? I'm the Subway Boss, Ingo. The Single line is my responsibility, and this here is my brother, Emmet. He manages the Double line."

"I am Emmet," is the response from the smiling twin dressed in white.

This small introduction only compounds the confusion, as you aren't sure what Single or Double lines are, but since it's a subway, it must have something to do with the trains. Colress doesn't let you introduce yourself, instead doing it for you, "This is my new assistant, (Y/N)."

"Another assistant? You had a different one the last time we came," Ingo glances to Emmet before looking to Colress in surprise.

Emmet adds, "You go through them quickly," his smile not faltering.

Colress attempts to defend himself, "Yes, the one you met the last time you were here, retired. Then, the one before (Y/N), had an… accident. (Y/N) was kind enough to offer to help us in the laboratory."

"One can never be too cautious. All safety checks should be conducted regularly," is Ingo's advice. Emmet nods in agreement.

There's a flash of anger on Colress' face. It was only visible for a second before being snuffed out, returning his expression to its neutral state. "That's why I was having Kudari stay in his room. Only in the past few days has he been let out. But, that's none of your concern. Don't tell me how to run my laboratory," he ends with a threatening tone.

Ingo looks taken aback and apologizes, "Very sorry, we did not mean to overstep our bounds."

Looking around, Emmet blurts out, "Where are our hybrids?"

"My hybrids, your clones," Colress corrects him. Turning to you, he asks through clenched teeth, "Well, (Y/N), would you be so kind as to retrieve Noku? Bring them to the rightmost planning room. We'll be waiting there."

"Absolutely! I'll be right back!" you say enthusiastically. Giving a look to Ingo and Emmet to excuse yourself, you scan your name badge at the door and enter the laboratory. While taking the elevator down, you consider the different ways this meeting can go. Hopefully, it will be a short 'hello' before getting to work. The longer the Subway Bosses are here, the higher the likelihood Colress is to become even more irritated. Though they seemed very polite so far, you could see cracks forming in Colress' veneer from being in their presence. The more upset he becomes, the greater the probability he will hyper focus on anything Kudari does, searching for a mistake. After the doors open, you walk to Nobori's door, knocking and informing him of your reason for being there, "Hey Nobori, I've been sent by Colress to bring you and Kudari upstairs. Ingo and Emmet are here to see you."

He answers the door wearing a robe, asking, "They're here now?"

You look to the floor, not wanting to stare at him. "Uh… yeah. Sorry to interrupt you."

Shaking his head, he assures you, "It's fine, I just got out of the shower. Anyway, we'll have to get Kudari quickly. I'm sure he can smell them. It's not good to keep him waiting. Sometimes, when he gets antsy, he—"

"Bangs on his door?" you interject, face still red from the state Nobori is in.

"Exactly. Just give me a moment to get dressed, then we can bring him with us." You nod, which signals him to close the door and get ready. Turning around and taking a step forward to wait, a few minutes pass before you hear Nobori exit his room. Coming to your side, he's wearing his usual attire, sans makeup. You both begin the walk to Kudari's room.

"Have Ingo and Emmet already seen how you look?" you ask. "Sorry, that was a terrible way to put it. You're not wearing your makeup, so I was just wondering…"

"Hm? Oh, yes. They've been visiting us since we were children. Well, not us specifically. But when they come for business, they always say 'hello.' Our nature is no secret to them," he answers, walking with his arms held behind his back.

#labmas au #hybrid au #colress #ingo #emmet #kudari #nobori #submas au

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starks-hero · 3 years

Text

Ugly Christmas Jumpers

Pairing: Crowley x Reader x Aziraphale

Summary: Sometimes love is wearing the ugly Christmas jumper your partner gifted you.

Word Count: 860

Warnings: none!

16 Days of Christmas Masterlist

You didn't have the heart to tell him. The jumpers material made your skin itch and the design that had been knitted to the front was ghastly. But you just didn't have the heart to tell him.

And it was that exact reason that led you to wear it during your latest visit to the bookshop.

Aziraphale had many love languages. In fact, you're fairly certain that he is the only being you've ever met that practices all of them. Yet some he still displayed more than others and gift-giving was certainly one of them. So, when he'd gifted you with a jumper of questionable design to help you wrap up warm for the winter how could you have possibly said no?

He seemed so excited, having watched intently for your reaction and lighting up like a Christmas tree when you slightly bent the truth and told him you loved it. You didn't think you could survive seeing the disappointment that would surely etch itself across his expression if you were honest. You'd swallow your pride and wear the god awful thing if only to make your angel happy.

As you stepped out of the cab that had dropped you to the shop, you spotted the all too familiar Bentley pull up a few feet away, the nearby street lights bouncing off its sleek paint job. A groan of frustration crept past your lips. If anyone was going to find joy in teasing you relentlessly for your current attire it was Crowley.

You watched as he stepped out of the drivers side and your warning to 'not say a word' died on your tongue. He wore a sweater that rivalled yours in hideousness. A snake was knitted to the front, winding the entire way around Crowley's side and up his back, the head reappearing on his shoulder. The whole thing was completed with googly eyes. The snake's forked tongue poked out in a comedically cartoonish fashion.

Crowley spared a single, tired glance down at your own monstrosity of a jumper. “You too?”

You nodded with a sigh, not missing the look Crowley threw you once he'd realised how utterly ridiculous you both looked.

“I think we can both agree that this is a lot less embarrassing when you remember we're doing this for Azira's sake,” you said plainly.

“Of course,” Crowley agreed, doing everything in his power to maintain some shred of dignity. “It's romantic really, when you think about it.”

You both took a moment to get into character, preparing to act as though you adored your current outfits before you entered the bookshop. The bell that sat above the door sounded as you both stepped inside.

“I'm terribly sorry but I'm afraid we're quite closed– oh!” Aziraphale's words fell short as he found both you and Crowley, both of you looking as though you were straight out of a poorly budgeted Christmas flick. “My dears, what a lovely surprise!”

The angels smile only widened at the sight of what you were wearing. “You both look wonderful!”

He laid a gentle hand on either of your cheeks as he continued to shower you both in compliments. Suddenly wearing the horrid jumpers didn't seem so bad if this was the outcome.

“We love them, Azira,” you lied.

“Yep, love them! I haven't taken mine off since you gave it to me.” Crowley joined in on your efforts to sell the lie. And by the way the angel's eyes brightened at your words you assumed you were successful.

“I'm so glad to hear it, I just knew you'd like them. That's precisely why I bought more!”

“You what...”

Confusion, realisation and then utter fear chased each other across your expression as Aziraphale opened a nearby cupboard and produced two more folded piles of woollen Christmas jumpers.

You and Crowley shared a horrified look as the bundle of clothes were handed to you. You tried to be optimistic but something, namely the googly-eyed reindeer knitted to the jumper at the top of your pile, told you that these wouldn't be any better than the monstrosity you were currently wearing.

You fought against the look of disdain that had subconsciously begun to settle on your face. You mustered your best smile as you thanked him for his thoughtfulness.

“Really angel, you're too good to us,” Crowley chimed in, grimacing slightly. He evidently felt bad about lying to his beloved.

“Oh, don't mention it, my dear boy. You look so very dashing in them after all.” Aziraphale said lovingly. His hand gently fell against your shoulder. “The both of you.”

And just like that, you were reminded why you were going through all this trouble. Why you were lying directly to your angel's face. The sight of him so happy filled you with so much joy it rivalled the burning embarrassment you felt each second you spent wearing the ridiculous garments. It was entirely worth it if it meant you got to see your angel smile. And now that he was offering you more with a smile brighter than ever, well, how could you possibly refuse?

tag list: @ask-the-elf-stuff @madgep

Thank you so much for reading!

#crowley x reader #aziraphale x reader #ineffable husbands x reader #crowley x reader x aziraphale #crowley x aziraphale #ineffable husbands #crowley imagine #aziraphale imagine #good omens #oh my god they're so soft–#16 days of christmas

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moxfirefly · 4 years

Text

I have to thank @southernblossoms for this one, she got evil!Leo in my brain and he hasn’t left ever since.

TW: Violence, Gore, Blood, NSFW content below

Rated Explicit (18+ years)

“She said I'm looking like a bad man, smooth criminal

She said my spirit doesn't move like it did before

She said that I don't look like me no more, no more

I said I'm just tired”

Leonardo always knew there was an inch inside of him that was darkness.

If left alone and unchecked, it would spread. Fester like some disease and he feared that someday he’d allow it to course through his body so freely.

And let it win.

It seemed today would be that unfortunate day. A night like any other, just more bloodshed than necessary. But hey, who said they should go and kill his father? Torture him to such an extent and string up his body for his brothers and him to find.

In that very moment that inch had grown in his soul to a degree that it blinded him. All he knew was to destroy, to hurt and erase those who had done this. He felt so cold, hands cupping his fathers motionless bloodied feet, the gentle tapping of blood and the cries of his brothers echoing in his ears.

So when Leo stood, bloodied (not bathed in his own), holding the head of the monster responsible, how could he regain peace? This had only brought a momentary second of reprieve and it was so fleeting. He looked into Shredder’s lifeless eyes, numbness spreading but a need that had started out as an inch. A need to kill everyone who had been part of this, directly or indirectly.

They all deserved so much worse.

They all deserved death.

Slow and torturous.

He had disappeared after that night. His brothers knew that this was the end of their leader, of their beloved brother who wanted to believe that good in this world could prevail.

For them they never imagined that Leo would just let the darkness take hold of him, nestle him with such a loving embrace. For him to embrace it right back felt justified, for his brothers it painted the gory picture of things to come.

They never expected to meet him in the opposition. To view him as foe and not family. Leonardo had quickly taken hold of the scum of the earth. He had molded the darkness to serve him.

Raphael thought Shredder was their worst enemy.

He never expected to have Leo claim that spot in a matter of months.

The Foot had fallen under his ruling, and he wasted no time in setting examples, and the bloody path those examples left behind never seized to churn the brothers stomachs.

There was no means of bringing him back, and perhaps it’s for the better.

Because whatever has eaten away inside of Leonardo cannot simply be flushed out of his body, nor ripped from his very soul. The body counts too high by now as he strays further and further away from what he was taught.

From what his father taught him...

_______________

You run with the unsavories. An eat or be eaten mentality that has caused you to survive years and years of gang wars and mutant freaks. Not like you’d throw about that last bit, much less when you’re standing single file, close to pissing yourself because he’s there.

And Christ he’s a sight to behold.

A rumor, a legend, a monster.

You tell him you’ve got valuable info, you know where to follow the trail that’ll lead to success. Even when your partner tries to push his chin up in front of Leonardo, you’re already wincing at what his demise will be shaped in.

Leo really loves cutting heads off.

A strong emphasis on loves.

You swallow, eyes flying anywhere but the rapidly growing puddle of blood that approaches your feet. Even then, your eyes stray towards the newest leader of the Foot, Leo punctures his katana into the head, a crude skewer as he lifts it and examines the severed body part as if answers lie in the gush of blood that falls. Those dark blue eyes move on you, you swallow.

He walks over to you, blade in hand, blood tap tapping onto the ground “Your information” Leo’s voice is weightless, bored almost. You motion towards your pocket, the crumpled up note with a poorly drawn map the key to your salvation. Leo reaches his hand in and you’re still, stiff and frightened by the intrusive touch and his proximity.

He pulls the note out and examines, the ghastly expression of horror on the decapitated head so close you can smell the coppery scent. “Can you get more of this? The coordinantes?” You crane your neck to look at him, his stature imposing. “Yeah, I’m your girl for that shit, swear on it” He flicks the blade and the sound of the head rolling makes your stomach flip flop along with it.

You feel the tip of a bloodied katana on your chin.

“Don’t make me cut off such a pretty head, hm?” You want to nod but the blade digs and Leo’s mouth twitches in something akin to a smirk. The small cut to your chin stings, but you wonder why other parts of you vibrate.

The danger, the adrenaline, Leonardo.

_____________

Your next meeting doesn’t quell your nervousness. Leonardo is an impressive sight as always and it’s imposible to ignore that maybe you won’t make it out alive every time you both meet. Unless proven useful, which you take to heart. You bring all sorts of information, names, rumors, possible gangs wanting to take him on, the police. Any word you heard in regards to him.

“It’s possible they might try to meet you half way, catch you off guard” The warehouse is chilly, that fall weather starting to hit but Leo’s unfazed, the black tails of his mask move with the gust of winds. “Stupid of them to assume that” The second floor of the warehouse seems to be his own, leaving the rest of the crew bellow. He sits on the windowsill, cloth running up his katana, it had been bloody when you were brought in.

“I’m just repeating what I heard, I’m sure you’re more than adept to take them on” You stick your hands in the pockets of your jacket, you’d been frisked not like you were stupid enough to bring a weapon to this.

But then again, the more he polished that sword, the more you wished you had something.

“What else have you heard? Any word on Karai?” The woman in question had appeared to have disappeared into thin air after Shredder’s death and Leo taking command of the Foot soldiers. Wether she planned to reclaim what was hers or if she had simply quit was beyond you and anybody else. “Nothing on her, she might’ve skipped town or the country” You offered, eyes following the sword as Leo placed it on a nearby table.

“She strike you as the type? A coward?” He walked over towards you, his expression so eerily unreadable.

Yet, your eyes wandered over him. Over muscle and scales. Overs scars and bruises. That illogical part of your brain making you wonder and fantasize, because fear could be exciting.

There was something exciting about Leonardo.

“Well?” He was in front of you, looking down at you. It hits you how minuscule you must look to him.

“Probably plotting? You did murder her dad” You find his eyes, you swallow.

“Well he murdered mine. Eye for an eye...” He spoke gently almost.

“Makes the whole world go blind” You finished for him, and maybe that was stepping on a line but you noticed the corner of his mouth twitch up. For a brief second you catch his eyes scan yours, move across your face and settle at your lips.

Passed your neck, towards your breasts.

He turns around and grabs his sword.

“One week, find more info on her, your pay is downstairs” You’re dismissed and before you process anything a Foot soldier is ushering you downstairs and shoving an envelope in your hands.

That night you dream about what your lips might feel like against reptilian scales.

—————————

Karai’s whereabouts are practically unheard off. If there was a trail it had run cold months back and judging from the word of mouth being passed around there wasn’t anything sustainable. You dig up anything and everybody. Every dirt bag with an agenda, ex Foot soldiers, opposing gangs, the mob and just about anybody you have in your radar.

It yields nothing.

You can’t return to Leo with nothing.

Rubbing a hand across your tired face, you make your way through the back alleys of the city. Your one week was coming up and all you had were weak possibilities and baseless assumptions. In your line of business enough information to create doubt can go a long way, but this was conspiracy levels bad.

So you thought and you thought quick.

Pulling out your phone you called him first. Perhaps a dumb move but at the same time you figured it showed that you were trying. You asked if the two of you could meet, the line briefly went quiet before your text tone startled you. He hung up and you were met with the address of a building in Brooklyn and to go up to the roof.

To say you were scared was to put it lightly.

You were shitting yourself.

The roof of the building had a green house which seemed unused but it looked like it was being kept up with the vegetation still green and alive. Your hand made for the door knob but something you could only name as a sixth sense made you freeze.

Leo was there, the shift in the atmosphere was impossible to deny. Your turned and blinked.

Wherever he had been, it must’ve been worse. There was blood on him, a fresh gash by his arm and the steady drip drip of blood hitting the concrete. “Jesus are you...?” You knew he was ok, but whomever had been on the receiving end of this had it by far much worse.

“Inside, go inside” He motioned for the green house and you did. Your eyes scanned around hoping to find something to help with. There was a nest of sorts in a corner, several blankets and cushions, a table and a chair amidst the plants. You found what you were looking for near the bonsais, a shelf with a box of first aid. Leo went towards a counter with a basin and a jar of water, he went about cleaning the gash on his arm.

You approached him with the box of first aid, blue eyes were cautious as you took out antiseptic and gauze. Leo had turned to face you, giving you more room to work on his arm as you bandaged it. “You alright?” Your voice held hesitation, Leo’s questioning gaze turned to amusement. “I’m fine, what I want to know is why you wanted to meet” You finished bandaging him and took a step back.

Pick your words wisely, you thought with a slight shutter.

“Listen I’ve spoken with any and everyone who might have any clue but Karai is off the radar”Swallowing a lump in your throat you shrugged off your jacket, worry manifesting in heat. “I know this isn’t what you wanted and I’m really fucking good at my job but this bitch is either underground or who knows! Dead for all I know!” The exasperation and worry was clear as day, he either took this the right way or the wrong way.

Wrong way being you end up pushed off this very building, at best ironically enough.

Leo swallowed the information, clearly bouncing it around his head. The dry specks of blood scattered across his green flesh. An odd silence fell amongst you both and even when he rose in all his imposing glory you kept your eyes focused on him. Getting a read on that cold calculated gaze of his was hard enough.

Your throat feels painfully dry once he has you backed up against the wall. Something about dying alone with not even an audience to witness it didn’t sit too right with you.

But then again, Leo’s large hand gripped your neck, nothing too tight but enough to alert you to its presence. Those blue eyes looked haunted but just beneath that laid something you couldn’t just place your finger on. The tips of his fingers lightly caressed you, one of them fascinated with your quickened pulse. You can’t blink, unsure what may happen and when he dips down your adrenaline makes you flinch.

Leo halts his movement, his blood feels like it’s pumping loudly enough for you to hear. Wide eyed you lean up instead and ghost your lips against his, Leo sighs through his nostrils and it stays that way. A pull but not enough of a push because there’s still fear in your blood and a hesitation that you can’t put a name to from Leonardo.

Your phone going off startles you, nearly making you jump out of your skin and to a fraction of your dismay Leo takes a step away. One of your contacts name flashed on the screen which meant there could still be some good news. Your turned away to speak, pulling a marker from your pocket you write down some information on your forearm. It’s a quick conversation and once done you turn to see Leo putting together his gear again.

You bit your lip, whatever was about to happen would just have to take a back seat. ‘Fucking coward’ you can’t help but think about yourself.

“One of my guys says he might have it on good authority that Karai is still here” You watch him turn his head to listen, even if he’s got his back/shell to you. “Well?” He pushes while adjusting his swords.

“He says she might’ve just met up with...with one of your brothers” Tense doesn’t even begin to explain what his body did, the mear mention of his family was a sore subject and you had been warned to not even attempt to open that can of worms. Swallowing and feeling your throat stick from how dry it felt you see him pull out a key and toss it to you. “Send me that address, you’ll get your money at the warehouse” You barely manage to catch the key to the greenhouse, but still you raise a brow at the offering.

“Come back here when you’re ready” Is all he says about it, confusion is painted on your face but when he moved to leave he takes a moment to hold your chin. “Don’t make me regret this” He says and before you can attempt to ask he’s gone.

You stay there, twenty minutes or so in nothing but your thoughts and his words swimming around your mind.

Feeling heat between your legs and a lick of frustration consuming you.

_____________

Two weeks you contemplate the key in your pocket.

Two weeks you let your thumb hover over his number but never press down.

For two weeks you find your pillow between your legs, trying to reach the sensation he managed with just his body close to yours.

But nothing.

It’s not enough.

New York is covered in rain as you make your way through the sea of people. Regardless of the many umbrellas you still get soaked and by the time you’re up on that roof, hand digging out the key to the green house you’re drenched.

Inside you shake off the excess and remove your jacket. The cold hits you and you can’t help but feel silly that you’re here, maybe this is his way of taking you out, you’re not needed anymore by now you assume.

You turn on the few lanterns that are scattered through the room. Kicking off your boots you rub your arms and shiver, flesh breaking out into goosebumps as the door creaks open once more.

Leo’s equally drenched when he steps through, the black tails of his mask sticking to him. The two of you just stare at one another, steady drips of water and the rain outside picking up more strengh.

Carefully you watch him begin take apart his gear, leaving his katanas by the door. He’s trying to keep your apprehension at low levels, his steps slow and soft. You let your arms fall to your sides and as your heart tries to hammer out of your chest you don’t flinch this time, even as his hands go for the hem of your long sleeve. You take a deep breath as his eyes wander across your now exposed flesh. The fascination goes straight to your core, feeling yourself warm up as his hands rest on your stomach.

With trembling hands you unbutton your jeans and step out of them and the inhale Leo takes as he closes his eyes makes you reach for him. He holds you against him and sighs, large frame shuddering at the feel of your skin against his reptilian one. He buries his snout against your neck, breathing harder as his hands run all over your back and rear. Leo grips and kneads the flesh and a groan escapes against your ear that makes your wrap your arms around his neck. He feels the softness of your breasts against his chest, he’d be a liar if he said he hadn’t been dreaming about them for months now.

You can’t wrap your head around it but he feels just as you fantasized about him. The roughness of his flesh, the edges of his shell and god his teeth nip at your neck with a growl. Wiggling out of his hold you start to undo whatever else needs to be taken off and Leo can’t help but smirk at your frenzied movements. He allows you to undress him, he’s gutted when your hands land on his waist as you start to kneel before him.

“No, no, kiss me first” He cups your face and presses his mouth against yours and that’s it, you’re done for, you’re hooked and can’t go back now. His kiss is possessive, forceful and it drowns every thought in your brain.

You pressed against one of the tables with the many Bonsais when Leo’a tongue slithers into your awaiting mouth. He sits you down on the table and nudges your legs apart to fit himself in between them, you crane your neck up losing yourself in his kiss. He can taste rain water, feels the sweat and rain mingle on your skin. God he wants to run his tongue all over you, eat you whole if he could.

It feels like forever when he pulls away, reluctance in his body. Blue eyes search into your e/c eyes, he wants to see something maybe your fear so he denies himself falling into this rabbit hole. Your hands press against his plastron and gently you run your nails down the hard plates, you shake your head fascinated by the texture. He’s rough but strong, a marvel of a species.

With some difficulty you managed to push your underwear off and spread yourself again for his viewing pleasure. “I want you,” You nodded, eyes falling to the hard length between his legs. Leo wraps a large hand around it and pumps slowly, body shivering at the sensation. “God I fucking want you so bad” You feel him come back to you, mouth on yours in yet another harsh kiss.

The tip of his cock nudges against your wet heat and he bites your lip at the sensation. Leo pushes into you so frustratingly slow, even as his girth stretches you to a point you’ve never been before. You want him inside of you now, and Leo couldn’t agree more. He bottoms out inside of you with a lengthy groan, head thrown back in ecstasy. “You feel... so fucking good” He growls out through gritted teeth, hips picking up speed as you wantonly take him in. You press your lips to his chest and moan with each slow but pronounced thrust of his hips.

His hand finds itself at the back of your head, grabbing fistfuls of your hair to keep your gaze on his. The slight tug burns so good and you can’t help but keep your pleasure filled gaze on his own. Lips parted you let him rock into you steadily until his thrust start to slam into you. The sensation spreads all over your body, little shocks of pleasure rocking your body.

“Mine, you’re going to be mine and only mine” He voices lowly, a threat laced in his passion. You’re too far gone to speak, nodding aimlessly at his every word, moans falling from your lips. “Nobody will own you like I do, nobody will touch you, Y/N? You understand? I’m making you mine” He pressed his forehead to yours, lost in this feeling.

“Fuck yes, yours, I’m gonna be all yours” You lick his lips and when he reaches a hand between both your bodies your mind goes blank. A vicious shudder overtakes you as you muffle a scream against his jaw. He fills you up so good and so warm with a strange vibration that sounds like an endless growl. Each rope he pumps into you making his eyes roll back. You’re shattered against, limp and raw throat from the scream that leaves your mouth.

He watches your come down, hand against your cheek, thumb running across your lips. When he pulls out just enough to watch his essence cascade out of your pretty little hole, he pumps himself back into you. His eyes say it all, from here on out whatever your life was up to this point is over and done with. Leo nuzzles you still lazily pumping himself in you, blissful to the little tremors your cunt produces around his member making him harden once again. Picking you up, bodies still joined, he makes his way to the nest of blankets on the floor.

You hold onto him, all you can do is hold onto him.

____________

It’s rather odd to be in this position. With an entire year that’s passed it never seems to feel normal, not that you’re complaining though.

Being in a position of power by proxy has its fucking fun rewards.

For example nobody in this city will ever contemplate taking you out. Unless they want a very pissed off Foot Leader to set fire to the city and maybe even the world. From opposite points to now standing at his side. No one is to address you as below them, or touch you or let alone breath the same air you do.

You can still hear the bones that were cracked when one particularly unruly Foot soldier made snide comment about you. Each crack of the mans arm being slowly twisted until his arm broke still rang in your ears to this day. Leo hadn’t flinched, hadn’t even scowled even as the twist turned to pulling the limb off.

He did in fact fuck you hard against the glass windows of the hotel suite he had you both in. The copper scent lingering on his scales, but enraptured with the heat enveloping his cock.

With the city at war everyone had began to run amok to do their own barbaric things. Each part of the city divided between gangs, mobs, mutants, police and civilians. You were out on active Foot duties, you were still free to do as you pleased but with protection and Leo demanded your whereabouts on the hour due to possibilities of abduction.

He knew you were a weakness.

But did he give a shit? Of course not. Let them try, he hasn’t needed an excuse for his tyrannical acts thus far, but if harm did ever befall you, you only wished you could witness what his methods would be to exact his revenge.

And he was so familiar with revenge after all.

You admire yourself in the full length mirror, examining the body that training under Leo has provided you. The mutant terrapin in question comes up from behind you and wraps his strong sculpted arms around your waist. You can’t help but smirk as he rest his chin a top your head. “We’re heading out in half an hour” He mumbles against your hair, enjoying the scent. You watch through the mirror as his hands rub up and cup your breast, with a sigh you rest against his strong build. “What’s on the agenda tonight? Purple dragons?” You feel him shake his head, fingers dipping inside the cups of your bra. “Mob,” Is his sole reply.

You bite your lip, gripping his wrists. “We’ll be late” You try to muffle a moan as he tweaks a nipple, he grinds against your backside. “I’m killing them regardless, and I much rather have the scent of your cunt on my hands while I listen to their boring excuses for parley” Your knees buckled when you felt his hand slither inside your underwear, finger already parting your lips and humming as he feels how wet you already are.

You feel his other hand wrap around your neck, keeping you upright and your gaze on the mirror as his finger dips into your welcoming heat.

He engulfs your every thought, every sensation; and what’s the fate of the world when you’ve got him? He chose you just as much as you chose him. You’ve never considered yourself good, scumbag street rat who just happened to make a living amongst the other scumbags. But this? With Leonardo and the trail of bloodied heads he’s left behind, it’s hard not to be excited to see gasoline be poured on the city. He trails his lips to the shell of your ear and you can’t help but grin.

“Mine” He says.

Burn everything.

#tmnt bayverse #tmnt leonardo #tmnt leo #tmnt leo x reader #tmnt leonardo x reader #tmnt Leonardo x fem reader #leonardo #Leo #leonardo x reader #leo x reader #leonardo tmnt #leo tmnt #ns*w #oneshot #evil!Leo #dark!Leo

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olderthannetfic · 3 years

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Viet anon here, that makes sense! I just think the way some (mostly American) fans seem to approach shows with this sort of grim determination to make sure there’s enough different kinds of people in it is strange and a little disturbing. It’s like you said, it’s like there’s no enjoyment for some people, just an obligation like your job. If you don’t like things don’t force yourself into it, even if it’s “good for you/diverse.” Sorry if this isn’t very clear, I’m very tired. But I completely understand what you’re saying.

Yeah. I don't like that energy either. It unintentionally implies that nonwhite characters aren't interesting enough for anyone to like them better than white characters without it being about guilt and duty, which is nonsense.

The real issue underlying a lot of US-flavor discourse is that media treats minorities poorly. Not nonwhite people. Minorities. China is garbage at portraying their ethnic minorities. So is Japan. I presume most countries are. Thai media is about pale, rich ethnic Thais in the capital much of the time, not some highland Akha person or whatever. IDEK who the ethnic minorities in Vietnam are, but I'm sure similar things happen.

In the US, "minority" and "nonwhite" line up more, so that distinction gets elided, and then people are annoyingly shocked at Americans liking Asian media and/or think it's only about colorism and the love of light skin or that white Americans somehow read Asian characters as white.

The reason it's important to understand that this is about minority status is that if US people want to fix our own media, we need to be aware of precisely what it's doing, which goes a lot deeper than just not casting enough people of category X or Y. For example, we often cast quite light-skinned, and even when we have a dark skinned actor, we don't always light them appropriately. It's important to get enough light on the face because those big, pretty 'single perfect tear' woobie shots are how we connect with characters and especially how we see them as vulnerable, delicate, sensitive, etc. We need to see subtle emotions on a character's face.

Most training on how to light presupposes a very light-skinned subject. The racism goes all the way down to basic tutorials and education. It's also quite possible to write and cast a character who sounds fine on paper, but then we stick the actor behind other actors in the scene, we fail to shoot a closeup for them, and we fail to cut to any closeup that does exist at key emotional moments. It's like they almost don't exist in the final product. These filmmaking elements can ruin the audience's interest even when the script is fine.

There are certainly cases where the character was portrayed fine, even in the subtler parts of the filmmaking, and fandom just failed to care, but far more often, the real problems are starting from canon, and fandom is just responding to the unspoken cues. I see way too many hot takes that base an analysis of a character from a writing perspective: They were cool on paper, so why don't you find them cool? But that's not where 99% of impressions come from in film.

We over-emphasize words because they're easier for most of us to analyze because 1. they're inherently verbal and 2. way more of us have been educated about them. The lack of cheap/free and accessible educational resources about the other parts of film is shameful. (And one of my pet rant topics, obviously.)

This is why white US fans who won't look twice at an Asian-American character fall in love with cdramas. It's not about them not finding Asians interesting or hot: it's about how the actual artistic craft that went into the media differed.

It can also be about which types of roles are given to whom. I like the supportive best friend character much more than the hot mess they're supporting. In US media, this means I often like nonwhite characters. But if I preferred the hot mess, as a lot of fandom and humanity in general does, I'd be going for white characters every time, even in casts that are quite diverse. Not so in cdramas where everyone is Asian including all of the character types from pillar of moral rectitude to badtouch villain to doomed little brother to beautiful disaster. (It's no accident I like Wen Ning and also Rico from Miami Vice. It's no accident most people prefer WWX and Sonny.)

Understanding what's going on on a craft level is so important if one wants to analyze how audiences are reacting and why.

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darkorderaf · 3 years

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can i request adam page proposing to his bestfriend? they’ve never dated but he wants to spend the rest of his life with her?

Ohhh this is SUCH a cute idea. I hope you like it and sorry for the wait!

Pairing: Adam Page x OFC. Rating: G. Warnings/Content: None; just fluff! Word Count: 797.

(I don’t own gif; credit to superkickparty!)

It was the type of thing she scoffed at. People really only did that sort of thing in the movies or the paperback romance novels she grabbed on sale. The ones that Adam would pick up off her coffee table and skim over while he sat in one of her recliners, thick brows furrowed in thought behind his glasses. The ones she would read while he napped on her couch, exhausted from training or the match he’d done.

How long had they known each other now? A decade or more now, at least. It wasn’t the type of thing they really quantified. If anyone ever asked, they’d both just say long enough and that was as good an answer as any. She had known him for the better part of her life. And it had been better. The parts of her life where she knew him. He was her best friend for a reason and he said the same about her.

“Wait, what?”

She felt dumb asking it but she had to, once she blinked him back into view. Half of her expected to find him with his eyes wide. Confused at his own words. But that wasn’t what she found. He was looking at her with an expression so completely calm that it soothed her own nerves. Made any doubt she had in her fall away like dust. They sat across from each other at her small dining table lined with late night food they had ordered.

“I’m dead serious,” Adam said and she didn’t doubt him. He fiddled with his plasticware as he talked. “I...I’m with you every day and I never get tired of it. Some people get sick of bein’ around each other after months, years, or weeks but hell, when I’m not with you, I’m wonderin’ what you’re up to. And most of the time, honestly, I’d rather be here than anywhere else. I’d rather be with you, doin’ what we usually do or doin’ nothing at all.”

She looked at him, her face flushed and her eyes a little glossy. Adam had said it better than she could have and it was like he read her mind. Read that racing heart of hers.

“I’ve been thinkin’ about it,” he admitted. He ran a hand through his blonde curls and shifted in his seat, his hands clasped together as he thought over what he wanted to say. “For a couple weeks now. I thought to myself, damn Adam, all your days with her are good days and let’s be real, you’ve had a shit ton of days with her. Years and years worth. And even when the days are bad, they’re still good somehow.”

He reached across their wrapped food to take one of her hands in both of his.

“You make my bad days good and my good days even better and having you in my life for a real long time sounds real damn good,” he said, the pad of his thumb tracing over the ridges of her knuckles. “And I love you. So...yeah. If you’d want to get married, I’d want to get married too is, um, what I’m saying. That’s where all this was getting to.”

He nodded and she saw his throat work as he swallowed. He had been holding onto that for awhile, she figured, and now that it was out there, he breathed easier. Even with his cheeks a little flushed like hers and that calm energy of his a little rattled. She was quiet for a moment and then she smiled. In a way, she breathed a little easier too.

“Damn it,” she said and squeezed his hands back. “I knew I shouldn’t have talked myself out of those onion rings.”

It was his turn to be bewildered and his face said as much, head slightly cocked.

“It was a bad ring joke, sorry,” she said with a laugh and then she stood up to round the table. Adam looked up at her from where he sat, their hands still together. She let go of his hands and cupped his stubbled cheeks. “What I'm trying very poorly to say is yes, let’s do it.”

Adam’s little smile, the one that tugged up one side of his mouth and crinkled the corners of his blue eyes, was one she could look at for the rest of her life. It always has been. He stood up and immediately wrapped her up in his strong, warm arms. His hands settled on the middle of back and he rested his forehead on her shoulder.

“You’re my best friend and I love you,” he said, voice muffled against her sweater. “It’s as easy as that.”

“As easy as that,” she agreed and kissed his cheek. “I love you too.”

#hangman adam page imagine #hangman adam page fic #hangman adam page fanfiction #aew imagine #aew fic #aew fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic

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gureishi · 3 years

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I'm the same anon who asked!

Could you talk about Saeran? It doesn't need to be detailed or NSFW, I'm good with anything, I just want to know more about your headcanons!

Hello again lovely anon! ♡

Oops aaaand once again (no surprise, I know): it’s long. I just wanna preface this one with a couple things:

1. There are quite a few Certified Saeran Simps on this site who truly know him much better than I do. Take whatever I say with a grain of salt—I’m no expert!

2. I’m also not an expert on DID! Which isn’t the focus of these HCs, but is obviously relevant. I read lots of books! About brains n stuff! But please never hesitate to tell me if I describe something poorly.

3. I wrote for the AS timeline here but if you want me to talk about SE Saeran or Unknown tell me and you know I will <3

Tw: discussion of childhood abuse, neglect, and subsequent trauma symptoms

Saeran’s body headcanons

A child who grows up the way Saeran did—kept indoors, often physically restrained, and sometimes starved—is not going to develop in a healthy way. There’s a reason why, even as an adult, Saeran is a full 2 cm shorter than his identical twin: he never gets the nutrition and exercise that kids need in order to grow.

We know that his mother uses his sickliness as an excuse to keep him indoors: but was he born sickly, or is he sick and weak because he’s been malnourished and kept from running or playing or interacting with other children? He breathes stale, dry air all day; he’s living on mostly white bread, and not always at regular intervals (plus whatever sweets his brother can steal for him from the outside world). He is not well.

Child Saeran never learns any sports or games. He doesn’t learn how to play with other children, or tie his shoes, or make himself a snack. Adult Saeran doesn’t know how to skip—you’ll have to teach him.

If the twins didn’t have each other, neither one of them would have survived.

And as we know, the neglect that Saeran endures worsens tenfold after Saeyoung leaves. Any glimpses he was getting of the outside world—sneaking out when their mother was unconscious, getting whatever snacks and books Saeyoung could gather for him at church—are cut off.

I’m not gonna tell you when the alters appear, because I am by no means an expert on DID. From studies I’ve read, I can say that typically alters become manifest after a “traumatic turning point” (which is not necessarily the “worst” trauma endured, but simply a particularly salient traumatic experience). It’s definitely possible that the alters emerge in late childhood, while he is still in the house with his mother.

When Saeran is taken from his mother’s home by Rika and V, he is (needless to say) not in good shape. He is painfully skinny, extremely malnourished, and very weak. He still has his red hair and golden eyes, but already he is looking less and less like his brother: his cheeks are hollow and his eyes are dull.

There is a brief period of time, before his “cleansing” (Oh god. We’ll get there), where he is reasonably well cared for. For the first time in his life, he is eating meals—and he is getting to bathe regularly, and he is getting his hair cut and combed. He still believes, at this time, that he’ll be reunited with his brother. And he is going outside! He is learning how the grass feels between his toes and how the sky looks through clear eyes.

As we know: this doesn’t last.

The elixir is a truly horrifying combination of hallucinogenic substances. No human could consume this cocktail of drugs repeatedly and feel well: and Saeran is already physically weak, and severely underweight. The fact that he survives as long as he does under these conditions is a miracle.

We know that he is being tortured at this time, too: physically as well as emotionally. Saeran has scars, like his brother; while Saeyoung has lots and lots of tiny scars all over his body, Saeran has larger, more distinct scars: perhaps on his wrists, and his throat, and his ankles.

It is around this time that his eyes and hair change. The means by which this happens is incredibly vague in-game, and everyone’s individual HCs are valid. My personal belief is this: he dyes his own hair—first, in a frenzied, desperate attempt to stop seeing his brother looking back at him from the mirror. He keeps dying it because Rika approves: and he never does a good job, and it’s rough and fried, and that “pink” at the bottom? Just the red showing through his patchy dye job.

As for his eyes: I personally believe they change as a result of the elixir. If they were contacts, I don’t think that GE Saeran would necessarily still wear them—and in every timeline, he has those startling blue-green eyes.

The alters take care of the body in different ways.

Ray does not feed himself. He lives on caffeine pills and sweets (and, of course, the concoction of drugs that he’s being fed in increasingly large amounts). The body becomes even skinner when Ray is fronting. And he bites his nails and fingers—brutally, so they are chapped and cut and scarred. But Ray goes outside, and he works in the garden under the sun: his body is getting some form of exercise: and this is good for his lungs, and invigorates his weak, tired muscles.

Ray also takes care of his appearance—something Saeran never did before. He brushes and styles his hair; he dresses himself carefully in the clothes Rika has picked for him; he covers himself in beautiful scents so that he is more appealing to you.

When Suit is fronting, he wants to strip his body of anything that reminds him of Ray. So he styles his hair differently (but still: he is styling it), and he tries desperately to wash the scent of Ray off his skin. He doesn’t feed himself, either—but, if any of the alters are trying to become physically strong, it is Suit (of course). I’m certain that the Believers have a workout regime they’re supposed to be following; maybe Suit even does it (on his own, of course, in secret). He knows he needs to be able to protect himself—and he needs to feel powerful.

When you meet Ray, you don’t notice right away just how poorly he is doing. Rika has intentionally dressed him in a way that hides just how bony he is—and he wears those little gloves, of course, so you don’t see his ravaged fingers. But it doesn’t take long to catch on: he is so skinny you could almost blow him away, and there are dark shadows under his eyes, and he doesn’t sound like he’s taken a deep breath in years.

By the time you meet Suit, you already know the state their body is in: malnourished and weak. Ray cooked for you, but you wish you could cook for all of them; and even when Suit is starving you (in other words: reenacting the very abuse that was dealt to him in childhood), you wish you could wrap him in a big blanket and feed him a bowl of soup.

The Saeran that escapes Magenta with you—GE Saeran: the fusion of Ray and Suit (or a new alter, depending on what you believe)—has never made a single choice for himself in his whole life, until this moment. He never got to pick his own clothes, or what he would eat (if he ate at all), or how he would speak, or what he would do. Running away with you is the first real choice he has ever made—and no wonder this is pivotal and transformative for him.

The AE doesn’t portray the timeline of healing in a realistic way. After two weeks, we see GE Saeran so much healthier, both physically and mentally. And yes: two weeks of eating real food and sleeping in a bed make a difference: we see him with fuller cheeks and brighter eyes.

But what the game doesn’t address is the withdrawal he likely endures when he stops taking the elixir, which is full of substances that are both dangerous and addictive. It doesn’t address the time it takes to build up muscle mass, and get accustomed to healthy sleeping and eating habits, and to begin to heal from years and years of repeated trauma.

GE Saeran doesn’t heal right away, because healing doesn’t work that way. It’s not linear, or straightforward, or simple, or beautiful. It’s slow, and sometimes it’s painful.

But he does heal.

A Saeran who is in love with you is soft, and patient, and willing to put in the months and years (a lifetime!) of hard work to heal his body and his heart. You’ll get to watch as the dark circles under his eyes disappear, and his cheeks become less hollow, and his body grows stronger as he cooks (with you, and for you) and eats real meals and learns to run in the grass the way he never did before. He’ll make a garden, and you’ll get to see how he looks with sun on his face, his eyes clear as the sky as he gazes up at you—smiling.

You can show him how to moisturize his dry lips and cracked hands; you can help him pick out clothes he likes to wear; and you will learn how to support him when his memories haunt him.

And you can hold him: this beautiful, small, soft man, with his thin shoulders and scarred fingers. He’ll close his eyes and you’ll taste the sun on his skin as you kiss his eyelashes. He smells of earth and sky; he loves you with all the power of the universe.

#mystic messenger #saeran choi #ray #suit saeran #headcanons #asks #anon #body headcanons

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