#you clearly wouldn’t love me if I were a worm

[sash0o]

Yall only love me for my tma yapping don’t you >:(

[pucksandpower]

If I Was a Worm

Max Verstappen x Reader

Summary: would you still love me if I was a worm?

Max leans back on the plush leather couch, his eyes fixed on the TV screen where a football match flickers. The living room is bathed in the warm glow of evening sunlight streaming through floor-to-ceiling windows. You’re curled up beside him, your head resting on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“Max?” You murmur, breaking the comfortable silence.

He hums in response, his fingers idly playing with a strand of your hair. “What’s on your mind?”

You hesitate, biting your lip. The question that’s been nagging at you feels silly now that you’re about to voice it. But curiosity wins out. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

Max’s hand stills. He looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “A worm? Like, an actual worm?”

You nod, fighting back a smile at his bewildered expression.

He lets out a short laugh. “Where did that come from?”

“Just answer the question,” you insist, poking his side playfully.

Max runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to process this unexpected turn in conversation. “I mean ... I guess? But why would you be a worm?”

You shrug, sitting up to face him properly. “It’s hypothetical, Max. Just go with it.”

He sighs, a mix of amusement and exasperation in his eyes. “Alright, fine. If you were a worm, I’d ... I’d buy you the best soil? Make sure you had plenty of leaves to eat?”

You can’t help but giggle at his attempt. “That’s sweet, but not quite what I meant.”

Max groans, throwing his head back against the couch. “I don’t know how to love a worm! What do worms even do?”

“They wiggle,” you offer helpfully, demonstrating with a wave of your hand.

He captures your wiggling hand in his, intertwining your fingers. “Okay, so you’d wiggle. And I’d ... watch you wiggle?”

You burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all. Max joins in, the tension in his shoulders easing as he pulls you closer.

“I’m serious though,” you say once the laughter subsides. “Would you still love me? Even if I wasn’t ... me anymore?”

Max’s expression softens, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. “Is that what this is really about? You’re worried I wouldn’t love you if you changed?”

You nod, suddenly feeling vulnerable. “I know it’s silly ...”

“Hey,” Max says gently, tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “It’s not silly. And to answer your question: yes, I’d still love you. Worm or not.”

“Even if I couldn’t talk to you anymore? Or hug you? Or do any of the things we do together?”

Max is quiet for a moment, considering. “I think ... I think love isn’t just about what someone can do for you. It’s about who they are, their essence. And that wouldn’t change, even if you were a worm.”

You feel a warmth spreading through your chest at his words. “That’s ... actually really profound, Max.”

He grins, a hint of pride in his eyes. “I have my moments.”

“So you’d be okay with having a worm girlfriend?” You tease, lightening the mood.

Max laughs, shaking his head. “I mean, it would definitely make my life interesting. Imagine trying to explain that to the press.”

You adopt a mock-serious tone. “Max, is it true that your girlfriend is now a invertebrate?’“

He plays along, mimicking his media voice. “Yes, it’s true. But I can assure you, she’s the most beautiful earthworm you’ve ever seen.”

You both dissolve into giggles, the earlier tension completely dissipated.

“Seriously though,” Max says once you’ve caught your breath. “Where did this worm thing come from?”

You shrug, a bit embarrassed now. “I don’t know. I was just thinking about how much our lives have changed since we got together. And how they might keep changing. I guess I wanted to know if there was a limit to ... us.”

Max’s expression turns thoughtful. “I get that. Our lives are pretty crazy sometimes.”

“Understatement of the year,” you mutter.

He chuckles. “Fair enough. But you know, through all the craziness, you’re my constant. My home base. That wouldn’t change, even if you grew an exoskeleton.”

You raise an eyebrow playfully. “Worms don’t have exoskeletons.”

“Same difference,” Max says with a dismissive wave. “The point is, I love you. All of you. Not just the parts that are convenient or easy.”

You feel a lump forming in your throat, touched by his sincerity. “Even the parts that ask weird hypothetical questions?”

“Especially those parts,” he assures you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “They keep me on my toes.”

You snuggle closer to him, feeling a sense of peace settle over you. “Thank you for humoring me.”

“Always,” Max murmurs. “Though I have to ask ... why a worm? Why not like, a cat or something?”

You laugh. “I don’t know. It just popped into my head. Plus, a cat would be too easy. You already like cats.”

“True,” he concedes. “But at least a cat could watch races with me. What would a worm do all day?”

You pretend to consider this seriously. “Worm things. Soil aeration. Composting.”

Max nods solemnly. “Ah yes, very important worm business.”

“Hey, don’t mock my hypothetical worm life,” you protest, poking his chest. “I’d be a very accomplished worm, I’ll have you know.”

He holds up his hands in surrender. “I wouldn��t dare question your worm credentials.”

You both fall silent for a moment, the absurdity of the conversation sinking in.

“We’re ridiculous, aren’t we?” You say finally, unable to keep the smile off your face.

Max grins. “Completely. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

You lean in to kiss him, feeling a rush of affection for this man who can make even the silliest conversations feel meaningful.

As you pull away, Max’s eyes twinkle with mischief. “You know, if you really want to be a worm, I could always bury you in the garden ...”

You gasp in mock outrage. “Max Verstappen, don’t you dare!”

He laughs, pulling you closer. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. Though it might be fun to see you wiggle ...”

You swat his arm playfully. “Keep it up and you’ll be the one sleeping in the garden tonight.”

Max’s expression turns serious, though there’s still a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. “You know, all this worm talk has got me thinking ...”

“Oh?” You say, curious about where he’s going with this.

He nods, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Yeah. I’ve realized something important.”

You wait, eyebrow raised expectantly.

“If you were a worm,” Max says slowly, building suspense, “you’d be the prettiest worm in the world.”

You groan, burying your face in his chest to muffle your laughter. “That was terrible.”

“But true,” he insists, chuckling. “You’d leave all the other worms in the dust. Or ... soil, I guess.”

You look up at him, shaking your head fondly. “You’re impossible.”

“You love it,” Max says confidently.

And as you gaze into his warm, playful eyes, you can’t deny it. You do love it. You love him, in all his goofy, sweet, sometimes infuriating glory.

“Yeah,” you admit softly. “I really do.”

Max’s expression softens, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “And I love you. Worm or human or anything in between.”

You lean into his touch, feeling a deep sense of contentment wash over you. “Promise?”

“Promise,” he says firmly. “Though I have to admit, I’m pretty fond of this current version of you.”

You smile, your earlier insecurities fading away in the warmth of his gaze. “Me too. I think I’ll stick with being human for now.”

“Good choice,” Max murmurs, pulling you in for another kiss. “Though I bet you’d make a cute worm.”

[buggysummers]

Could I please have angst with a happy ending with Best friend Clark, where you’ve been pining after him for the longest time, but he’s still after Lana. So you give up and start going on dates/bars to get over him, and he’s confused at the sudden emotional distance because you’ve never done that before, and he finds himself jealous. 🙏🙏🙏

a/n: sorry this took a bit anon! i am such a busy gal this semester </3. this one's a lil long - might not be as angsty as you were hoping but i haven't written angst in agessss so i apologize. ty for the req my love!

"who's this?"

is what you hear before you can even turn your head to see clark approaching you in the beanery. you had figured he wouldn’t even be here—he’d surely be supporting lana at the talon—but clearly the world had a way of taunting you, because you’d recognize his voice anywhere.

“clark,” you start, finding it absolutely unbelievable that he found a way to worm himself into your life regardless of how much you tried to avoid him. “this is steven. steven, clark—my friend.” you give a pointed look to clark. “what’s up?”

“oh, i just wanted to see you.” you’re kidding. as often as clark says things which make you double take, this is not a time you doubt what he means; even your date is baffled by his words.

“i wanted your help, actually. with my english project," clark says, and it almost seems like he came up with that on the spot.

“what? clark, you’re good at english.” there is no way.

“well, this one’s giving me trouble.”

“i… can it wait? or can’t you ask chloe?” you try urging, hoping it'll make him get the hint.

“chloe’s busy.”

“okay, whatever, i can come by later.”

“i have a thing later," clark says, and it's taking all of your power not to strangle him. he never even acted this way if you were talking to people he knows.

“a thing?”

“yes, a thing." you roll your eyes, finding clark's behavior beyond absurd.

“you know what – i was gonna go soon anyway,” steven says awkwardly, standing. 

“no, stay. clark was just going." you jump to your feet, trying to resolve the situation.

“no, i wasn’t!”

“oh my god, clark shut up!” 

“i’ll call you, okay?” steven grabs his jacket, and that’s when you know that clark has entirely ruined this for you. 

“are you sure? i’m sorry about him, he’s—”

“i’m what?” clark interjects.

“intruding.” you finish, and it's clark's turn to roll his eyes. “i really am sorry about this, my friends usually don’t interrupt my dates, i promise.”

“that’s okay. it was nice spending time with you.” 

steven isn’t even out of earshot when you start scolding clark, swatting him with a magazine off the table. “are you serious?! what is wrong with you!”

“what’s wrong with me?”

“yes, you!”

“you’ve been avoiding me for weeks!”

“what are you talking about?” you ask, trying to play dumb.

“what am i talking about?" clark touches his hands to his chest, confused how you're turning this on him. "are you kidding? you used to hang out with me nearly every day, and now i barely even see you at school.”

“and?”

“and?” he asks, his eyebrows shooting up. “and i like spending time with you? i care about you? is that seriously something i have to tell you?”

“maybe it is,” you say, hands moving to your hips.

“who even is that kid? you didn’t tell me you were going on a date.”

oh. oh.

“that’s what this is about?”

“uh. yeah. you tell me everything." the sass in his voice is a quick reminder that you have such strong feelings for clark, but you try to push that thought away. and clark's right, anyway. you would typically tell him most things.

“i do not tell you everything,” maybe it’s the way that you say it—or maybe it's just the sentiment in itself—but clark furrows his brows, the sentence hitting him like a punch.

“what don’t you tell me?”

“i don’t know, clark—things!” but you do know, and it’s that you’ve been harboring feelings with him for god knows how long. “you keep secrets from me all the time. i don’t pry.” and that seems to shut him up. “listen, can we not talk about this now? let’s go back to yours.”

“okay. okay, yeah,” he says, walking towards the door and holding it open for you. on the walk back to his house, you start talking about other things—the english project that he didn’t need your help with so urgently, the errands his mom had him run earlier, and what chloe had been telling him about yesterday.

clark’s english project took far less time than he’d hoped, and he was only able to keep you an extra half hour because his mom joined the conversation. and when you left, that only made the cut deeper, because she brought up how she’d barely been seeing you around lately. he doesn’t see you the next morning at school, and barely catches sight of you at the end of the day, talking to steven. he’s about to walk over there, interrupt the two of you again, but pete appears in front of him and drags him over to the torch before he can protest.

the next few days pass slower than time ever has for clark. it’s like he’s spending every minute thinking about you, and he doesn’t even realize why until it hits him that he’s been seeing lana with whitney and it doesn’t make him feel the same way it used to. the only thing making him feel that way is you. that realization occurs in his math class, and he nearly thinks that he’s around some of the meteor rock because of how it makes him feel. he’s lucky that his actual teacher is out sick, because when clark comes back from the bathroom, he’s already thinking about what he’s going to say to you.

“please open the door, please open the door, please open the door,” clark whispers to himself as he rings the doorbell. it’s not too long until the door’s creaking open, and luckily it’s you—not your parents—on the other side. “hey.”

“hi.”

“how are you?” he stalls.

“i’m fine. you?” you ask, leaning against the doorframe. honestly, it kills you to be so cold towards clark, but there’s not another way you can imagine to get over him. every second you’re with him is indescribable. 

“i wanted to talk to you, actually.”

“okay.” you look back into the house before stepping out front, shutting the door gently behind you. it’s a moment of you looking at him expectantly before he takes a deep breath, preparing himself for your reaction.

“i don’t think you should see steven anymore.”

“what? why?”

“i just don’t think he’s the guy for you.”

“okay, well, that’s a really great and specific reason, clark,” you say sarcastically. “what do you have against him?”

“i don’t have anything against him!” wrong. “i just don’t want you going out with him.” and wrong thing to say. 

“you don’t get to control who i go out with, clark.”

“that’s not what i meant–”

“what did you mean, then?” you ask, angrily. it takes clark by surprise, really, ‘cause he can’t remember the last time you’d snapped like that, and he never thought you’d react that way to him.

“i just think you deserve better.”

“you don’t even know him! you have no idea how he treats me.”

“just trust me.” clark looks down at you with what you can only describe as puppy eyes. “come on, i know you trust me.”

“i do trust you—usually—but this is so unlike you.”

“this is unlike you! you never talk about boys or going out with anyone or—”

“yeah, well maybe i had my eye on someone.”

“what?”

“nothing, clark! nothing.”

“how does you being interested in someone mean that you don’t ever talk about them?”

“god, clark, you’re so blind,” you mutter under your breath. “because it’s you!” oh. 

“what?” clark replies, his eyes wide. it doesn’t even cross his mind what it actually means, he’s just so shocked. “what?”

“you heard what i said.”

“no, yeah, i did. but what?” “i’m not repeating myself.”

“how long?”

“i’m not answering that, clark. that’s humiliating.”

“no, it’s not. i—” he takes another deep breath, shaking his head slightly. “i’m jealous.”

“what?”

“of steven, i’m jealous of him. and i—i don’t really know where it’s come from, but i don’t want you seeing him, i want you seeing me,” clark’s words make you still, the anger being drawn out of your system. “i miss you,” he adds quietly. 

“okay. wow. that’s… okay.”

“okay?” he teases, taking a step forward with a smirk. it’s starting to set in that you feel the same way, and he suddenly doesn’t feel so bad about the way he’s been sneaking glances at your lips this whole time. clark watches you grow a little nervous, starting to fluster, and he’s kicking his past-self for never realizing how cute you are. 

“i’m nervous.”

“i can tell,” he smiles, the toothy grin nearly making you implode. “so, what does this mean?” 

because of how close clark is, you’re having to really look up at him, and though it’s already hurting your neck, you can’t make yourself look away. “i’m not gonna talk to him anymore. i wasn’t going to, anyway. it’s not fair, using him to get over you.”

“was it working?” you shake your head. “good.” he’s staring down at you for another moment, and the silence isn’t awkward. all he’s waiting on is a sign, something to tell him that you actually do want him—more than just words. then you’re looking at his lips for a little longer than a simple glance, and he’s bending over, leaning in. clark would be lying if he says he’s not nervous, but he’s wasted so much time being blind to your feelings that he won’t do it any longer.

clark snakes a hand around your body, pulling you closer to him as he presses his lips to yours in what can only be described as a rom-com kiss. it feels that way, too, and he has to force himself off of you. he almost wants to apologize for how eager he is, but he doesn’t.

you stare at each other for another moment, like neither of you really knows what to say, and then you look to the side, half hiding your face as you try not to giggle out of excitement. “um, i have to go back inside. my parents are…”

“yeah, that’s okay,” clark says, beaming. “let me take you on a date. are you busy later?”

“no, later works,” you nod. clark huffs at how adorable it is, before glancing back at the front door—making sure nobody’s looking—and pressing a quick kiss to your lips.

“i’ll come get you at six.” he starts to walk off before turning back around, “and, uh, maybe wait a second before you go back in. your face is all red.”

[librarygarten]

Isekai! Reader's Hear Me Outs

The boys have a bet. You're determined to punish them for roping you into it. (Based on the Hear Me Out Cake trend. All characters were submitted by you lovely readers.)

“You grew up playing our games, right?” Wind asks. He has a mischievous smile on his face. “Who’s your favorite?”

“Aww, I could never choose my favorite Link. You nine are all equally a pain in the butt!” You laugh and ruffle Wind’s hair. It’s not even a lie, really. Sure, you prefer some games over others, but how could you possibly choose a favorite?

“Come on, spill!” Legend pipes up, “I got money on this!” Ah. So that was what this was all about. Glancing around, you’re disappointed to see that all the Links are listening in, no doubt all part of the betting pool.

“I mean it. Find someone else to rope into your gambling addiction.” You shake your head at the boys’ antics.

“What about other people?” Hyrule smiles innocently, “what other… uh, characters were your favorite?” It’s an innocent question, but you know it’s dark motive. The boys would simply tally how many people from their games you liked and declare that game the winner. Fine. If that’s how they wanted to be.

“I mean. I had a crush on Beedle when I was in middle school.”

“That guy that likes bugs?” Wild, Wind, and Sky all ask at the same time. They look between each other, surprised for a moment. You can see the gears turning in their heads. How on earth were they supposed to count that? One point each? Unless you meant only one of the Beedles?

“Yeah. He would love me if I was a worm.” You nod sagely, as if the boys would have any idea what that meant.

“Interesting taste.” Warriors snorts, “Any others we should know about? Maybe we can introduce you when we visit our eras.” He elbows your side playfully, but over his shoulder, you can see Four trying to sneakily add tally marks to a piece of paper. They were keeping score. Time to have some fun.

“The King of Red Lions. Boat form.”

“WHAT.” Wind gawks. “Y/N. Y/N, that’s a boat.”

“That’s not even the worst one.” You grin evilly. “I was a very cringe child.”

“What could be worse than having a crush on a literal boat?” Sky grimaces. You think for a moment.

“Batreaux. When he’s a bat. Oh, and Ghirahim, but I think that’s just a given.”

“I’m sorry I even asked.” He cringes.

“Let’s see… who else?” You rack your brain, trying to come up with characters that you had a crush on. There were honestly too many to count. What can you say? Nintendo makes some fine men.

“I’m almost scared to know.” Wild smirks, clearly having fun with this. Oh, that reminds you.

“The Satori was pretty cute.” You say, and Wild falls off the stump he had been perched on.

“The Lord of the Mountain!?” He sputters, “Y/N that’s a GOD.”

“Eh, he’s not the first deity I had a crush on.” You wave your hand dismissively.

“What other deity did you have a crush on?” Sky raises an eyebrow. As the resident Hylia-“enjoyer” he would question you, wouldn’t he?

“Chill, dude. I don’t have a crush on your girlfriend.” Before his cheeks have time to turn pink you continue. “I was talking about Fierce Deity.”

Time begins choking on his own spit. Warriors pats him on the back, but gives you a look somewhere between disgust and disappointment.

“Don’t give me that look!” You cry. “I haven’t even started talking about all the hot villains! You’ll have plenty of time to look at me like that once I actually give you a reason to!”

“Hot villains? Don’t tell me you had a crush on Ganon.” Hyrule wrinkles up his nose in disgust.

“Of course not!” You put a hand on your chest, as if offended by the implication. “I have standards, Rulie.”

“...”

“Ganondorf on the other hand…”

“Please stop.” Hyrule grimaces.

“Y/N. Please tell me you had a crush on one normal person.” Legend begs.

“Does the Happy Mask Salesman count?” You smile. “I love his little laugh.”

“No. No it does not and you know that.” Time sighs and buries his face in his hands.

“Rusl?”

“No! He’s like my dad!” Twilight gasps. He looks personally offended. What? It’s not your fault Twi’s father figure had you saying daddy.

“Fine,” you sigh, “what about Vaati? He’s cute. That’s not weird, right?”

“Which version of Vaati?” Four sounds tired. He has long since given up trying to record your answers for whatever bet the boys had tried using you for.

“...”

“Y/N. Which version of Vaati?”

“...I think you know it’s not his Minish or Hylian form.” You laugh. Four, like Time, buries his face in his hands.

“Okay, surely you have one person that isn’t a boat or a god or a monster.” Legend rubs his temples. Are your antics giving him a headache? Serves him right, you suppose.

“Oh! Do Dark Link or Shadow Link count as normal crushes? They’re cute.” You explain. Four and Time both shoot their heads up, their faces bright pink.

“You had a crush on DARK LINK!?!” Twilight sputters, “As in, the guy that’s been dragging us across time? The guy that stabbed me???”

“That was before I knew him.” You grimace at the reminder of Twi’s wound. Unfortunately, the moment of silence is short-lived.

“Wait, does this mean I won the bet?” Four’s cheeks and the tips of his ears are still dusted pink, but he seems a bit smug now, too. Shoot. Why had you said Shadow Link was cute? That’s basically calling Four cute, too!

“Actually, I think it goes to Time.” Legend counts out on his fingers, trying to remember all the… interesting… comments you had made. “They listed the Fierce Deity and Dark Link.”

“Dang it.” You groan, a blush creeping into your own face.

“You should know better than to try and stop our betting pools, Y/N.” Warriors winks as he collects a rather large pouch from Wind.

“I hate every single one of you.”

Honorable Mentions that I couldn't find a good place to add:

Lizalfos

Daruk

Zora’s Mask Link (Mikau)

Demise

Volga

The freaking Deku Tree????

Raru & Sonia

[writtenbymoonflower]

Hi! Can I please request a poly!Marauders x reader where the reader has a secret admirer? The reader is receiving anonymous gifts and letters, making the boys anxious and jealous. If not, it's okay! Thank you, author-san!

omg i love this! thank you so much, baby, hope this is okay! gn!reader x poly!marauders

cw: jealousy and possessiveness, borderline harassment and stalking, hickey

1.1k words

You groaned loudly when you opened the front door only to be greeted by yet another bouquet of flowers. You begrudgingly brought the arrangement into the house, setting it on the countertop. 

"Again? That’s like the third this week, and it’s only Wednesday." Sirius said, exasperated and (almost) as annoyed as you. 

"Fifth, actually." You hated that you were complaining, you knew you were technically very lucky to receive all these gifts, it was just distressing. And to be frank, getting very old.

"Christ, this person is thirsty." Sirius’ voice was strained, clearly more anxious than he was wanting to let on. 

"At least it seems they don’t have much of a chance, anyone worth their salt knows that you hate roses, angel." James said, between mouthfuls of his sandwich. 

"I know," You cringed. "Who should I give these to this time? Lily has enough flowers to open a shop" You rolled your eyes. "Speaking of," You reached into your work bag and pulled out two boxes. "There were chocolates at my work when I got there yesterday, and a pair of earrings on monday." You walked over to where Remus and Sirius were cuddled on the couch. 

“Geez, dove. Are we gonna have to step up our game?” Remus said, voice tinged with jealousy. 

"No, this person needs to step down. Or at least give me a return address or something. All the notes say is ‘from someone who appreciates you, xx.’ It’s actually kind of distressing." You handed the smaller box of earrings to Sirius, "Are these your style, honey?" 

"What? You don’t want them?" He sounded surprised. Of course you didn’t! Why would you need presents from a random person when you have three boys who give you all the love you could ever need? (and in the way you like it)

"No, I would feel weird wearing them." You cringed, handing the larger box to Remus. "You can have these, I don’t even like cherry chocolate." Remus took the box like it was filled with poison, a disgusted tilt to his lips, just as Sirius dramatically dropped the jewelry box onto the coffee table. 

"I don’t know whose grubby paws have been on this box." He sneered. You rolled your eyes at his dramatics, looking over to James who was still in the kitchen. He had set his sandwich down and was looking like a kicked puppy. It made your heart crack.

"Jamie, what’s wrong baby? Come here." You beckoned him over. He rushed to your side, placing his hand protectively on your shoulder and gripping you tight. You looked at your other two boyfriends, Remus’ jaw was clenched tight and Srius was still looking at the box and scowling. 

"I jus’ don’t like it." James said from your side, his voice was small like a child's. 

"Wait, hold on," You said, "Are you all actually worried about this?"

"Define ‘worried’ lovely," Remus said, his voice an awful mix of venomous and depressed. “I don’t think any of us like knowing there’s someone out there fighting for your affections.” His eyes had an angry glint to them. 

“Guys,” You said, your heart only breaking further. “You have nothing to be worried about, okay?” James’ grip tightened on you. “There is absolutely no competition here, I’m not even giving these the time of day. I don’t want anything to do with the gifts or the person sending them.” 

“But you would if we weren’t in the picture.” Sirius said quietly, all too insecure for your liking. You wormed your way out of James’ grasp, resulting in a whine being pulled from his throat, to crouch in front of Sirius. You grabbed his pretty face in your hands, looking into his sad eyes. 

“No, I wouldn’t. I’m not impressed by these gifts.” You took a deep breath, not wanting to confess the next part and worry your boyfriends worse. “They actually kind of scare me.” You admitted, making all their eyes snap to you. 

“Scared? Of what, darlin’?” James piped up. 

“I just,” You cringed. “I don’t like knowing that there is someone this obsessed with me and I don’t know who they are. And that they know where I live and where I work. I mean, who knows how much they know?” 

“Well now I feel like an arse.” Sirius grabbed you from the floor and hauled you onto the couch with him and Remus, wrapping himself tightly around you. “Here I was thinking this person was gonna get you away from us, not knowing they were worrying you.” 

“You’re not, I promise!” You reassured. “Honestly, if there was someone doing all this for you three I would be really jealous too.” You placed a hand on two of your boyfriends’ thighs, looking over at James, who was still sulking, now sitting on the coffee table in front of you. “But I can assure you, even if I found out who this person was, they, and no one else, would be able to take me from you three. You aren’t getting rid of me that easy. Besides, I don’t like stalkers.” You joked. 

Remus pulled you closer to him, gentle but still much more aggressive than usual. Your other two boyfriends had settled, but he was still heated. 

“Remmy,” You turned to face him. “I promise, you have nothing to worry about.” 

“I know,” He grunted, burying his face into your neck. You wanted to shrink at the ticklish feeling but you allowed him to stay there, knowing he needed it. Remus had a jealous streak, perhaps the most of all your boyfriends. James and Sirius were more subtle in their protectiveness, but Remus started marking you all like a wolf anytime someone let their gaze linger too long. You buried your fingers in his hair and scratched his scalp, trying to relax him. 

“As soon as I find out who this is I will get them to stop, I promise.” You said vehemently. You looked guiltily at all your boyfriends, “I’m sorry this is happening, it isn’t fair to you all.” 

“It’s not your fault, dolly.” Sirius placed his hand on your back. “You don’t have anything to be sorry for, you aren’t asking for this.” You were about to hug him, but Remus held fast around your waist, you started to protest, but you felt Remus’ lips latch to a spot on your neck, nibbling and sucking hard enough to sting, but not hurt. The sound you let out was half giggle and half moan.

“Christ, Moons!” James barked, “You trying to brand them or something?” The three of you started giggling like children. Remus released your skin from his teeth, observing the red and purple splotch that was left in his wake. 

“Gotta make sure they know what’s mine.” He said, possessively. “Don’t worry," His eyes glinted furiously at your two other boyfriends, "you two are next.” 

[wendichester]

୨୧₊ ⊹ would you still love me if I was a worm?,

summary. existential crisis questions make the best topics.

pairing. sam winchester x reader

wordcount. 506.

Sam is hunched over at the war room table, papers spread out in front of him and his laptop open to some lore-heavy website. His hair falls in loose waves around his face, and he absentmindedly pushes it behind his ear as he reads.

You’re sitting across from him, pretending to be invested in your book, but really, you’re watching him. The way his lips purse when he’s concentrating, the way his eyes narrow ever so slightly—it’s unfair how distracting he can be.

“Hey, Sam?” you say, breaking the comfortable silence.

“Yeah?” He doesn’t look up, his fingers still scrolling on the touchpad.

You close your book, leaning forward with a grin. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

That gets his attention. He blinks, tilting his head as he finally meets your gaze. “A worm?”

“Yes,” you say seriously, fighting to keep a straight face. “Like, if I magically got turned into a worm. Would you still love me?”

Sam leans back in his chair, his arms crossing as he gives you a look that’s equal parts amused and incredulous. “How the hell do you even come up with this stuff?”

“Just answer the question,” you say, grinning now.

He sighs, but there’s a playful glint in his eye. “Okay, fine. Yes, I’d still love you. I’d carry you around in one of those little terrariums with fancy dirt. Maybe even give you a cute name, like Wiggles.”

You snort. “Wiggles? Really?”

“What? It’s fitting,” he says, shrugging with a smirk. “I’d keep you safe. Make sure no birds got to you. You’d be the happiest worm alive.”

You giggle, leaning your chin on your hand as you watch him. “That’s... surprisingly sweet.”

Sam raises an eyebrow. “Well, yeah. You’re my girl, worm or not.”

Your heart does a little flutter at that, but you school your expression into mock seriousness. “That’s very noble of you. Because if the roles were reversed, I definitely wouldn’t love you if you were a worm.”

His jaw drops, and he stares at you like you’ve just betrayed him. “What? Are you serious?”

“Worms are disgusting,” you say, wrinkling your nose.

“You literally just asked me to pledge eternal love to Worm-You!” he exclaims, throwing his hands up.

You shrug, biting back a laugh. “Yeah, but that’s different. I’d be a cute worm.”

Sam groans, leaning forward to rest his head on the table dramatically. “Unbelievable. This is the thanks I get for indulging your weird hypotheticals?”

Reaching across the table, you pat his hand, still laughing. “Come on, don’t take it personally. I’d totally make sure you had a nice patch of dirt to live in.”

He lifts his head just enough to glare at you, though the smile tugging at his lips ruins the effect. “You’re lucky I love you, even if you’d throw me to the birds.”

You grin. “What can I say? You’re a better person than I am.”

“Clearly,” he mutters, shaking his head as he tries—and fails—to hide his amusement.

taglist ⋆.˚ ★— @iloveeveryoneyoureamazing ֶָ֢ @deans-daydream

[awkward-walking-potato]

Claws, Whiskers, and Paws

Sequel to Claws and Whiskers

Who can resist Logan and a puppy.

Wolverine x reader

Please send me some requests or ideas for more Logan or other X men

It had been a few months since Scratch had wormed his way into Logan’s heart. You could hardly believe how much things had changed since the day you brought that scrappy tabby home. Logan and Scratch had become inseparable, often lounging on the couch together or sharing breakfast in the mornings. You couldn’t help but smile at how your tough, no-nonsense boyfriend had grown so attached to the little furball.

But you’d always had a soft spot for animals, and lately, you’d been thinking about expanding your little family. So, one afternoon, while Logan was out, you made a decision that you hoped wouldn’t backfire.

You arrived home with a small, energetic puppy—a golden retriever mix with big brown eyes and a wagging tail that could melt anyone’s heart. The shelter staff had told you he was about six months old, full of energy and love. You thought he would make the perfect addition to your home.

Scratch, however, didn’t seem to share your enthusiasm. The moment you walked through the door with the puppy in tow, Scratch’s eyes widened in what you could only describe as feline disbelief. The cat was perched on the back of the couch, his usual spot, but now his tail was flicking back and forth with clear annoyance.

“Scratch, meet Buddy,” you said cheerfully, setting the puppy down. Buddy, all wagging tail and wiggling body, trotted over to Scratch, his little nose twitching as he tried to get a good sniff of his new feline friend.

Scratch, however, was having none of it. He let out a low, warning hiss, his ears flattening against his head as he glared at the puppy. Buddy, undeterred, just barked happily, his tail wagging even faster.

“Oh, come on, Scratch, give him a chance,” you pleaded, scooping up the puppy before Scratch could swat at him. “He’s just a baby. You’ll get used to him.”

Scratch looked at you with what could only be described as feline indignation, then jumped down from the couch and strutted off to the bedroom, tail held high. Clearly, he was not pleased with the new addition.

You sighed, carrying Buddy into the living room and setting him down on the floor. “Don’t worry, Buddy. Scratch will come around. He just needs time.”

The puppy looked up at you with those big, trusting eyes, his tail still wagging as if he had no idea what had just happened. You gave him a reassuring pat on the head, hoping you were right.

Logan came home a few hours later, his boots thudding heavily on the floor as usual. The moment he walked through the door, Buddy bounded over to him, barking excitedly and jumping up on his legs. Logan froze, staring down at the small, wriggling ball of fur that was now trying to climb up his jeans.

“What the hell is this?” he asked, his tone a mix of surprise and something that sounded suspiciously like amusement.

“That,” you said, coming out of the kitchen with a grin, “is Buddy. Our new puppy.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, looking from you to the puppy and back again. “A dog? You brought home a dog?”

You nodded, biting your lip. “I thought it would be nice to have a dog around, you know? For some balance. Plus, I couldn’t resist those eyes.”

Logan glanced down at Buddy, who was now trying to chew on his bootlace. He let out a low chuckle, bending down to scoop the puppy into his arms. “Yeah, I can see why.”

Buddy licked at Logan’s face, his tail wagging furiously as he squirmed in Logan’s arms. Logan scratched behind the puppy’s ears, a small smile playing on his lips. “Alright, I guess he’s not so bad.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, glad that Logan was taking the new addition in stride. “Scratch, on the other hand, isn’t too thrilled,” you admitted, glancing toward the bedroom where the cat had disappeared earlier.

Logan snorted. “I bet. That cat’s got enough attitude for both of us. He’ll come around.”

Over the next few days, the dynamics in the household shifted. Scratch continued to keep his distance from Buddy, watching the puppy’s antics with a mix of disdain and wariness. Buddy, for his part, seemed to think Scratch was the best thing ever, constantly trying to play with him or follow him around.

One evening, you were sitting on the couch with Logan, watching TV while Buddy chewed on a toy at your feet. Scratch was perched on the windowsill, pretending to be indifferent, but you noticed how his eyes followed the puppy’s every move.

Logan leaned back, stretching his arms across the back of the couch. “You know, I think the little guy’s growing on me,” he said, nodding toward Buddy.

You smiled, leaning into him. “He’s pretty cute, huh?”

“Yeah,” Logan admitted, glancing down at the puppy. “He’s got spirit. I like that.”

As the evening wore on, you started to get ready for bed. Logan stayed in the living room, flipping through channels while Buddy curled up on his lap, completely content. Scratch, still on the windowsill, continued his vigil.

When you returned from brushing your teeth, the sight that greeted you made your heart melt. Logan was stretched out on the couch, fast asleep, with Buddy snuggled up on his chest. But the real surprise was Scratch, who had crept down from the windowsill and was now curled up on Logan’s shoulder, his head resting against Logan’s neck.

You couldn’t help but smile as you quietly grabbed your phone, snapping a quick picture of the three of them together. The tough, gruff Wolverine, sound asleep with a puppy on his chest and a cat on his shoulder—it was a sight you never thought you’d see, but one you would treasure forever.

As you slipped into bed, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. Your little family—claws, whiskers, paws, and all—was just a bit bigger now, and your home felt warmer, filled with the quiet sounds of contentment.

In the end, it turned out that Logan’s gruff exterior wasn’t so different from Scratch’s wary attitude, or Buddy’s playful energy. They were all tough in their own way, but they had hearts big enough to find room for each other.

[shizuturnspages]

Hello! Can I get yandere fatui scaramouche and ayato with reader that were isolated and has a garden where they spend their time only reading, planting a flowers, dancing and singing. Reader is ridiculously weak where if they turn their neck a bit too fast they're going to accidentally snap their neck?

I find this trope where someone is ridiculously weak so freaking funny.

A Delicate Bloom in Their Hands

Synopsis: You clearly can't take care of yourself. So they'll do it for you. Pairings: Yandere Fatui Scaramouche & Ayato with a Ridiculously Fragile Reader Who Loves Their Garden

Scaramouche – The Frustrated Caretaker

"Are you trying to die, or does the wind hate you specifically?"

Scaramouche has never met someone so… weak.

He’s seen porcelain dolls sturdier than you.

He’s beyond frustrated because you—this soft, fragile little thing—have somehow wormed your way into his mind.

You spend your days reading, humming like the world isn’t cruel, dancing even though your legs look like they’ll give out any second.

And the worst part?

You don’t even seem to realize how breakable you are.

You turn your head too fast, and he lunges forward like you’re about to die. A gust of wind knocks you off balance, and he catches you before you hit the ground. You sneeze, and he’s already planning your funeral.

It’s infuriating.

He tries to keep his distance.

But the second he sees you struggling to carry a single flowerpot—he snaps.

You are never lifting a damn thing again.

And if he has to uproot your entire garden and bring it inside where you won’t be exposed to the "dangerous elements," then so be it.

"Tch. You really don’t understand how fragile you are, do you?"

"Fine. Whatever. You can keep your garden—just don’t expect to lift a single thing ever again."

"And if you even think about twirling again, I’m tying you to a chair. But I cannot do that as well. The ropes might crush your bones."

Ayato – The Overprotective Overseer

"Ah… Perhaps we should wrap you in silk and keep you in a safe little box, hm?"

You are… adorable.

And by that, he means so ridiculously, hilariously delicate that it’s a miracle you’ve survived this long.

You want to plant flowers? He insists on supervising you. You like dancing? He ensures the floor is cushioned in case you fall. You want to read in the garden? He has guards hidden in the trees.

You are his most precious treasure.

And treasures must be protected.

He finds it so amusing to see you struggle—he won’t deny that.

But more than that?

You fascinate him.

You’re like a flower that needs the perfect environment to thrive.

And who better than him to cultivate you?

"Shh, don’t pout. I only have your best interests in mind."

"Wouldn’t it be so much easier if you simply let me take care of everything for you?"

"Yes, yes, you’re perfectly capable—now sit down before you sprain something."

[2222bad]

THEY FELL LIKE RAIN

(in the wee hours of the night, michael eases your worried mind) | 1.7k words

WARNINGS: fem!reader , oral (f! receiving) , sexual themes, unprotected sex , passion , crying , anxious!reader , some size kink if you squint…

[1987]

your body was submerged in a certain darkness, one that let worry creep in like a worm to soil. tears came easier to you than breath as you pressed your mouth against the duvet, clutching it tight in your hands, to muffle the noise. the room was dark, too. maybe michael wouldn’t even notice. but he did. you’d been trying to stifle your sounds when he’d come up the stairs of your apartment, wood floors creaking with each step to the open bedroom door. you paused, eyes opening to the window that lit your bedroom with the soft white light of the street.

you sniffled as your head turned toward the familiar sound. damnit.

“baby.” you hear his voice elevate with worry. “are you alright?”

when you feel him on the bed, your arms whirl around and hug him tight. he surrenders to the hold, your fingers clutching his overshirt with the weight of fear and love, as if to prove he was really there.

“you’re okay?” you hiccup, burying your face in his shoulder.

“yes,” he gasps, “yes, baby, i’m alright.”

his hands slip beneath your arms to hold you where he can see you. through the night you could almost see each other clearly, but maybe it was because you’d simply memorized that sweet angel face which, sometimes, speaks to you better than his words ever could. his eyebrows knitting, eyes darting from one tear-stained cheek to the other, he didn’t have to utter a word. and there wasn’t a point in trying to mask the truth from him. not when he could read it from miles and miles away.

“you never called me…” you relent, the tears shedding again as you speak. “you told me you would.”

michael sucks his teeth, his head falling, his hands now like a gentle current against your sides. “i know. i know…oh, sweetheart. don’t cry, please…please…”

it was impossible to see him through the webs of tears in your eyes, so you hid your face in the dampening fabric of his shirt, darkening in color. you shiver, the hitch in your breath intensifying. “i’m always so worried about you, michael. i-i don’t know who’s o-out there with you at-at these parties.”

“i’ve always got protection,” he says, pulling your body closer. “you never have to worry about me. i’m always coming straight home.”

you lift your head to see him again, your lips wavering. “why didn’t you call me? did something happen?”

he shakes his head. “nothing happened. that’s the thing. it was such a stupid party.”

“you promise me?”

“i promise. i promise, baby…if i could’ve brought you with me i would’ve…” he whispers, squeezing your middle.

“i don’t know what i’d do if something were to happen to you,” you mutter anxiously.

his answer finds you in less than a heartbeat. “i’d fight to come back to you…i mean that. i do.”

you paw his shirt, thumb sliding over the cold patch of cotton that you’d cried in, for a moment you press into him, into his chest, insistently. “when you tell a girl you’re gonna call her you do it, michael…”

he sighs. “i know. i just wanted to get back as soon as i could. i wanted to be back home with you,” he says, soothing your worries with a stroke of his hand in your hair. “i wasn’t thinking, i was silly.”

“i’m just happy you’re here now…” you sniffle, sadly, swallowing. “i really get so worried… those other girls and—“

“there’s nothing to worry about. nothing…” his thumb catches a stray tear and wipes it away, warmth grazing along your cheek. “you’re my world, you’re everything to me…i love you.” he finds your lips and kisses them. “i love you,” he insists.

“i love you, michael,” you echo faintly, letting his soft lips cover yours again.

his eyes trail over your sullen face, in his voice you could hear his sweet tremble, hurt at the idea of giving you any pain. his lips touch your forehead, then the soft curls along your hairline. “it breaks me to see you cry.” he kisses your shoulder and your eyes flutter closed. “i would never do anything to hurt you. do you understand?”

you answer in a quiet, liquid hum. your hands take his head and lift it lovingly, cradling his devoted face in your palms like he were water to sip. “will you make love to me?” you ask, your voice full of the love pooling in your body, before pressing your lips to his again. “please?” you knew it was late, but it felt so good to be held, have him here to surrender to. your eyes meet between the kiss, your breath fanning against his mouth. “please?”

“is that what you want?” he gazes into your eyes, his voice so careful.

you nod, a lustful flush painting your cheeks. “yes, please.”

the kiss michael gave you was different then, warm and soft and acrid from tears. needful. for how could he deny you what you need? the way your body melded to his touch surged a warmth in him. he buckled beneath your humbleness, his heart already wilted at the sound of your lonely cries. and the short flashes of memory from the party where he could only think of how much he desired your company fueled the way his lips dove against yours, ardently, deftly.

your head follows his as he pulls back, soft eyes opening to catch him. his look traces the design of your nightgown. the one he bought you from the catalog you adored, the one he loves. he knows every curl of lace, every stitch of nylon and satin. he observes you, his palm running along the lithe curves of your body, breathlessly. your eyes follow his dreamy, slender fingers in the dark, splayed out to cover you.

in his wordlessness, you attempt to study his pure awe of you but his lips fall onto yours again before it could last, full of passion as he hungrily drags your nightgown to your belly and lunges forward to catch himself between your silken thighs.

your hands grab him by his shoulders, feeling the blades flex as his thumb curves into your hip. your body quivers, the delectable graze of his pants running along the goosebumps on your thighs. he hums against your full mouth as your hands slip down his back, fingertips forging beneath both his shirts and onto his smooth bronze skin, hooking into the loops of his belt to goad the rhythm of his amorous hips.

tender moans occupy the other’s mouth as hips roll into each other, the sweet vice of your legs keeping his swell taut against your ache for a while, until you’re both sodden for each other.

“hold on, baby,” he whispers, panting as his movement eases up. he quiets your displeasure while leaning back on his heels, needing more. he draws your gown up and over your body, its softness running up your bare arms. his thumb caresses your cheek again. then your lips for a kiss. soft, rory palm going down, down, down. you squirm without thinking, watching him admire you. between your legs, you glimmer. he marvels at the want.

he takes his turn, tugging his overshirt down, then his undershirt, stomach tightening as he reaches his arms over his head. your lips fall agape, growing warmer at the sight of him. when his hand grabs a fist of his belt, you sit up, lips pressing to the skin, a little splotched, below his navel, licking meekly there. tasting sweat.

he grazes your head with his fingers and you look up to catch his eyes looking back at you.

“i love you,” he echos dotingly, his voice sultry, a bit of gravel inside, like the hum of an old record below the needle.

you smile softly, blinking dreamily. “i love you, baby.”

he dips down, kissing you again. one hand cradles your cheek while the other, you can hear, loops around to undo the sizable buckle on his belt.

his lips suck against yours, smacking apart as he keeps going, kissing along your ear, tickling your jaw, cruising down your neck.

“michael…” you gasp, arching prettily.

“all i did tonight was wish for you…” he confesses as he slips down your chest, bending to kiss your nipples perking against the ministry of his tongue. your stomach curves into the dangling black curls hanging down from his head, a sudden wave of pleasure pulling from you as he kisses between your legs, dragging breath tumbling out of you in a quiet staccato song. he shivers, quietly palming his length in his loosened underwear as your irresistible taste floods his open mouth.

he tongues your delicate bud with a slow affection, winds it perfectly. he dips into you, lapping indulgently to gather your passion until he's undone you, leaving you quaking, stomach aching from clenching into pleasure. your orgasm fell slowly, your whole body weakening under the weight of his mouth. and when you gather your strength, up on your elbows, your chest heaves, struck with disbelief at his face, now flushed. heavenly mouth glistening.

“lay back, baby,” he whispers as his trousers come down, then his underwear. you flower open at his nudge against your skin, laying thick and flat against your stomach.

you cup his face in your hands, watching his teeth bite into his bottom lip, the sensation of him against your second lips, kissing him, so delectable and raw. your arms tremble and fall under the bloom of his head inside, rubbing in a small circle to widen you gently. slowly, like treacle, he eases. until you’re so full of him. your breath stops, eyes welling up again with the glisten of gratified tears. his fingers cradle your face, stopping instantly.

“am i hurting you?” he utters, his lips still hovering so close to yours. as if he knew he wasn’t.

immediately you shake your head, fluttering around him. eyes soft and bright for him. “no…”

“oh, my baby,” michael groans as he begins to understand and kisses your falling tears, letting them wet his mouth as his lips stray all over your face. his rhythm was loving. his thrusts deep and divine. cheek pressed to yours, his passion comes out like weeping beside your ear.

you keep him close, his curls tangling in your gentle hand. “you’re so good to me.” your breathless words stroke the sensitive skin of his ear. he quickens, sweat slips between the both of you, consummating your heat.

the fullness nearly breaks you, your breath fighting to release. deeper, he curls into you, burying in ache, so good, his fists wring the sheets.

his forehead comes down onto yours, lips wrapping around your own, begging you to open. his tongue is wet inside your mouth, the taste of you still lingering. then his face scrunches, moaning shakily as you squeeze him so lushly.

“it’s all for you,” he moans, voice breaking. “always... always, always.”

[n0tamused]

Hello!! I’ve been following you for a little bit, and I just haven’t reached out much because. I’m scared🧍‍♀️(not of you, just reaching out in general because for some reason I think people will bite me if I try to interact)

alsoyourworkislovelyandsoisyourocandsoareyou. <3

But!!! If you’re stilling doing your 1.5k follower event (congrats btw!!) would it be alright if I made a request for Dr. Ratio, action prompt 14 (romantic) pretty please? :3 Love my wife fr. He needs to come home 💔

Thank you, and have a lovely day/night! Congratulations again on your milestone!! ❀

˖ ࣪⊹Morning fuss

Prompt: action 14. First kiss

A/n: Hello! And dw I totally understand you lol, but I'm so happy you decided to reach out now and make a request! <3 I can totally whip up some Dr Ratio, anytime hehe. I had different ideas as to how to do this, but I settled on this one primarily because it is set in a private space and where Ratio is arguably at his most vulnerable and it's just lots of fluff. I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for your kind words! Wishing you luck on getting Ratio!

Contents: Dr. Ratio x Reader, gn reader, fluff, morning cuddles, reader has a wack dream

Words: 895

Ko-Fi |  1.5K followers event(closed)

He had never sounded so carefree. The moment nearly felt like a distant dream as bed sheets still clung onto both of your forms with sunshine streaming through in pale yellow lances. Perhaps carefree was not the most correct term, but the way he laughed and the fact his face was devoid of any hard line or angry wrinkle failed to remind you of anything but liberty.

It started off with you waking up from a sleep you could only explain as a fever dream, you woke up believing you were still held within the confines of those halls, looking for the walking, upside down rabbit and all you could think of is to warn Veritas of the deceiving shampoo and the seal walking on flippers. 

Veritas, also freshly woken up, didn’t have the brains yet to comprehend your confusing talk, and for several moments he made an effort to ask questions and to understand you better, to calm you down from your groggy rambling. 

His hand found your shoulder, rubbing with tender care, his eyes taking a bit too long to open after every blink. “What are you talking about?” he asked, at long last starting to grasp the strands of reality.

“The seal..Veritas, I..” you bumble and mumble, but slowly come back to your senses, and when your eyes meet his you could almost see your own realization reflected back at you as his own eyes flushed off the sleep they carried. Reality set in and silence followed.

Then you began to chuckle, flushing in embarrassment as you had drawn almost flush against him under the blankets in your previous stupor. 

Giggling, you bury yourself in his chest, apologizing over and over again until you feel him move and his chest shake with his own laughter. 

“In the name of.. Have you seriously fallen so deep into slumber that you thought a seal was a threat to you, me?”

“A seal can be a threat! Don’t act so clever with me now, you damn well know what seals are capable off”

“Clearly. One more thing you forgot to add is that they’re capable of flight and I would’ve believed you” he bit back at you with humor dripping off every word. You have wormed your way on top of his chest, and he patted you on your back as if to console you for your embarrassment. “Although, I can’t deny your care is endearing”

“Is this the closest I’ll get to you giving me a direct compliment?” you quip, a cheeky smile on your face as your head shot up, looking down at him and the way his messy hair made him look nearly ethereal in the morning sun. 

Ratio scoffed, “Like I don’t give you enough praise already, do you want to be spoiled now as well?” he groaned as he shifted, just enough to grab the runaway blanket and pull it over your back again. It was too early even for him to get up, a few more minutes of warmth wouldn’t hurt.

“Spoiling your partner isn’t all that bad” you argued, propping yourself up more comfortably on his chest. “For caring for you no less, you’re such a handful at times” you added with a yawn, noticing how his brow twitched in amusement.

The distance between the two of you was disregardable. Your noses were nearly touching and Veritas couldn’t help his hand when it rose to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “Me being a handful is only a natural reaction to you being an arms full” he told you, a smug looking expression nestling into the lines of his face.

You only tilted your head and felt your expression grow into the silent question of ‘really?’. “You’re being such a handful right now. I worry for you even when I am not awake, and this is your thanks?” 

“Hm, you may be right, in some way” he nonchalantly mused, relaxing into the mattress with a sigh. His hand had fallen down, caressing the side of your neck. “I thank you for your valiant service, for being so willing to defend me against the feverish animals your mind conjured, the ones that wished to harm me, although I highly doubt they wanted anything at all” he chuckled again, his thumb brushing against your jawline.

“..now was that so hard?” you ask in a whisper as sleep tempts to take you again, his warmth wishes to lull you back to sleep. Your head is feeling heavy and without much thought you let it fall closer, and your lips fall onto his own.

Veritas’ eyes fall closed and his hand tightens its grip at your nape ever so lightly, displaying his disbelief and mild shock, but accepting it regardless. He holds you close, his breath stopping in his throat.

A beeping sound echoes in the air, separating the two of you. It wasn't a hard guess to figure out what it was - Veritas’ alarm had brought a sour expression over his face. For a few moments he let it ring on, hoping to ignore it as he rested against the pillows and returned his eyes to your own, a silent apology woven in his colored eyes. He then leaned forward and kissed you sweetly on the cheek before reaching for his phone to turn the offending sound off.

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[suroweczka]

Would you still love me if I were an ant? Zoro x reader

Wtf did i write idk

Warnings: Other than being an ant (horrible disease, sending prayers to all affected) and reader being ridiculous and annoying, none, pure fluff😘😘

— The moonlight spilled through the window, casting a soft glow over the room as you and Zoro lay in bed. His breathing was steady, his body relaxed, and you could tell he was teetering on the edge of sleep. But you couldn’t let go of the random thought that had wormed its way into your mind.

“Zoro,” you whispered, nudging him lightly.

He grunted, barely cracking an eye open. “What?”

“Do you find me attractive?”

His eye opened a bit more, and he frowned, confused. “What kind of question is that? You know I do.”

You smiled softly but couldn’t stop yourself from pushing further. “Okay, but... what if I wasn’t me? Like, what if I got turned into... an ant?”

His brow furrowed deeply, and he tilted his head to look at you fully, his confusion now complete. “An ant?” he repeated, his voice a mix of disbelief and annoyance.

“Yeah,” you said seriously. “If I somehow got turned into an ant, would you still love me?”

Zoro stared at you for a long moment, then closed his eye and groaned, rolling onto his back. “What the hell kind of question is that? No, I wouldn’t love an ant.”

Your heart sank at his blunt response, and you sat up slightly, glaring down at him. “So you’d just leave me? Break up with me? Just because I turned into an ant?”

His eye shot open again, glaring at you. “How am I supposed to love an ant? You’d be... an ant! I can’t talk to an ant, can’t train with an ant, can’t even drink sake with an ant!”

“But it would still be me!” you argued, crossing your arms. “I’d just be... smaller. And maybe a little squirmy.”

He sighed heavily, rubbing his temple. “This is ridiculous. I’m trying to sleep, and you’re asking me if I’d date a bug.”

You huffed, lying back down beside him with your arms crossed. “Well, it’s good to know that if something terrible happened to me, you’d just leave me.”

Zoro groaned again, clearly trying to keep his patience. He turned to you, propping himself up on one elbow. “Alright, listen. If you turned into an ant after we’d already been together, I’d... I’d deal with it, okay? I wouldn’t leave you.”

You raised an eyebrow. “But if I was an ant from the beginning, you wouldn’t even give me a chance?”

He stared at you for a moment, his lips pressing into a thin line. “How the hell would I even meet you if you were an ant? I’m not walking around staring at the ground looking for bugs to date.”

You pouted, turning your back to him. “That’s not the point, Zoro.”

He sighed, sitting up and leaning over you. His tone softened, though there was still a hint of exasperation. “Look. I don’t care what happens to you—human, ant, whatever. I love you. I’ve never given a crap about anyone else like I do about you. You’re the only one who’s ever mattered, and you’re the only one I want to be with. But I swear, if you keep me up with more dumb questions, I’m tying you to the mast tomorrow.”

You turned back to look at him, a small smile tugging at your lips despite your grumpiness. “You really mean that?”

He rolled his eye, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead. “Yeah, I mean it. Now go to sleep.”

You finally relaxed, snuggling into his chest as you felt his arm wrap around you. “Goodnight, Zoro.”

“’Night,” he muttered, his voice already heavy with sleep.

As you drifted off, content in his arms, Zoro sighed quietly to himself. “miraculously dodged a bullet,” he muttered under his breath before finally succumbing to sleep.

[patito-oward]

First Night

masterlist

WC: 1.6k

Summary: YN and Pato spend their first night together

Previous Parts: I

me posting?? who is she. i hope you all love please repost if you do 🤍🤍

~

Pato had arrived at her house the next night to take her out once again. They went on a series of 6 dates in two weeks, and had become quite enamored with each other in that time. YN was hesitant at first, trying to keep her guard up while she waited for the other shoe to drop, but Pato had wormed his way in. It was hard to not let her walls down and let him in when he was so incredibly sweet.

Their second date Pato picked her up in a rented Toyota Corolla which made YN giggle when she saw it. “You actually rented a car to pick me up in?”

“I’m on my third strike and I couldn't risk it.”

Pato knew when he first saw her that she was special, but never expected to fall as hard and as fast as he had. He had come to expect that he was not seen as “boyfriend material” for most women. He knows his schedule and frequent travel doesn’t scream commitment. He had gotten used to a few dates, maybe a couple hookups, and not much more. He tried to convince himself he was okay with that. That the one night stands were fun and he needed to focus on his career anyways, and he was fulfilled by it. It worked– sometimes.

It worked until he’d watch a cheesy romance movie and think about how much he wanted someone to be by his side, or until he had a kid come up so him at a race, a gap in their front teeth and incredibly excited to meet him, and he realized how much he wanted a family of his own.

So he cut off the hookups, because after each one he would be left with this lasting feeling of emptiness, and he’d stopped going on dates for the most part, accepting that his career has prevented him from what he really wanted. If it hadn’t been for Elba’s incessant nagging, he wouldn’t have gone on the date with YN. He’s never been more thankful to have such an annoying older sister.

He invited YN over so he could cook dinner for her, and he was suddenly very nervous about how the night would go. He had tried to plan the perfect night, decorating his table with a large vase of red roses and candles, but as she got closer to arriving he started to doubt himself and wonder if it was too much. He doesn’t want a repeat of their first date where she was clearly overwhelmed.

Before he could think too much about it or change anything, his doorbell rang, and he decided to just try and make the best of the night. The second he opened the door he felt a lot better, she had that effect on him, just seeing her seemed to lower his heart rate and calm him down. She looked absolutely gorgeous in a pair of dark jeans and a cropped sweater.

“Hi!” She greeted him with the sweetest smile and he realized how utterly gone he was for her.

“Hi, you look beautiful.” He kissed the corner of her mouth, a quick gesture but even that made his stomach flip, and moved aside so she could come in.

She had seen his apartment before, but only briefly when he realized he left his phone after he picked her up, and invited her inside. He could tell she was really taking in the place now, the night time made it seem different, softer, the few lights he had on cast a soft glow through the place.

The timer on his phone went off and he headed towards the oven to take out dinner. He made pasta for the night, and it was in the oven to bake the cheese he topped it with. It was when they reached the kitchen that she took note of the dining table.

“Is it too much? I’m sorry if it is; I just wanted tonight to go perfect and I’ve messed it up already.” He started apologizing without her saying anything.

“It’s gorgeous. I can't believe you set this all up and thought I wouldn’t like it.” YN assures him, and kisses him hard trying to show him all of her gratitude.

“I’m glad you like it.”

Dinner is easy, like most things have become between them. YN has never felt so comfortable with someone, and wants to tell him everything. Pato already wants YN to know the deepest parts of him, he wants to learn her inside and out and vice versa.

The thing they’ve taken to talking to most is their families, and they’ve learned so much about each other through that. They both have one sibiling, their best friend, and they’re both extremely close to their families. In a lot of ways YN reminds him of Elba, when she talks about her younger sister he can tell how much he cares for her. She tells him about how she used to watch her sister frequently while her mom worked two jobs to support them. In a sense he feels like he’s met her sister and mother, the way she describes them he can tell there’s so much love between them.

They’ve completely gone through the getting to know you stage, conversations now filled with stories and deep conversations about fears and the future.

After dinner they settle onto the couch, and are scrolling for something to watch. Pato has a large, comfy sectional, but YN has chosen to curl up right against him. It sends a warmth through him, he can smell the mix of her strawberry shampoo and vanilla perfume, and decides it is his new favorite smell. He wraps his arm around her and she leans on his shoulder.

They scroll through netflix and find a baking show to spend the rest of the night watching. It was less about what they were watching for both of them, and more about just being together; however, they both got quite into the show, enjoying watching the competition and judging the bakers themselves.

As the night went on, YN grew pretty drowsy on the couch, and after an episode ended announced, “I should probably head home soon.”

When she sat up, Pato immediately missed the weight of her against him. “Ok, I guess it is getting pretty late.”

She kissed him then, “Thank you for dinner.”

“I’ll make dinner more often if that’s what it gets me.” She laughs at his response and leans in for another kiss.

The kiss quickly deepens, but it’s soft and slow. YN moves herself to be sitting on his lap, knees bracketing his hips. Up until this point they haven’t done anything other than kissing and heavy petting. Pato desperately wanted to know every inch of YN, but knows that if he does what he has always done the results will always be the same. Plus the teasing has been incredibly hot, and he’s willing to wait for her.

When they pull away from each other they’re both a little breathless. Pato can feel his heartbeat in his throat, and is glad the room is dark because he’s sure there’s a pink tint across his face. He speaks before he can stop himself, “Don’t go.”

YN freezes in her spot perched in his lap, “What?”

“I don’t want you to leave. Stay, I’ll sleep on the couch if you want, we don’t have to do anything, just don’t go.” He’s begging at this point, but he really can’t stand the thought of her leaving him.

“You don’t have to sleep on the couch.” She leans in for another kiss, so soft he almost doesn’t feel it.

He gently coaxes her off his lap and leads her to his room. He grabs them both some pajamas from his dresser. He gives her a pair of sweatpants and an arrow mclaren hoodie, remembering that she’d told him she freezes in the night.

He got out an extra toothbrush for her, and showed her where his face wash and medicine was. While she got ready, he got dressed himself. They switched places when she came out of the bathroom.

As she waited for him she looked around his room, not what she expected, but she didn’t really know what she expected. He had a white comforter and sheets on the bed, with black and copper throw pillows. The furniture is black metal and dark wood, giving an industrial but homey vibe to the room.

He leaves the bathroom and YN takes the opportunity to really sink him in. He’s in a pair of grey sweatpants that make her a little crazy, and a tight white long sleeve that hugs his biceps so perfectly she’s drooling.

They climb into his bed together and YN immediately notices his smell enveloping her. He smells woodsy and warm. YN notices that they both climbed into opposite sides without thinking about it, another way they fit so perfectly together.

Pato lays on his back and YN hesitates before curling into his side. He wraps his arms around her shoulder and she entangles her leg with his and rests her hand on his chest, “Is this ok?” She asks him.

He can’t believe she even has to ask because he’s never been better. “Perfect.”

She starts absentmindedly scratching at his chest, and the last thing she remembers before drifting off is Pato kissing her head and whispering, “Buenas noches.”

That was the first of many nights spent together for YN and Pato. Already fallen for each other much more than either was willing to admit. Their souls as intertwined as their legs.

[readsrealm]

Buggy & The Roger Pirates Thing (maybe even a little Corabug!?)

Buggy always feeing like he doesn’t belong on Rogers crew. Like he was just brought on to be a playmate for Shanks (practically a pet). He’s not entirely wrong either most of the crew shows unintentional favoritism to Shanks and don’t really remember that Buggy’s there half the time.

The next island they visit they actually forget Buggy. Buggy himself doesn’t even realize until hours later, Roger Pirates far away and still unaware of their mistake. Buggy’s devastated, he kinda wanders around the islands small town and into its forest in shock and despair before coming upon a familiar face. A blond marine who he’d met in the town earlier who was now running through the woods. They had a good conversation earlier and all Buggy had really learned was the boys name. Rosinante.

Rosinante takes Buggy back to Sengoku who goes “WAIT A MINUTE” and then declares that Buggy’s been taken in for ransom. Buggy tells them that nobody is going to come for him.

They wait a couple days, then a week, then a couple weeks, finally two whole months go by and nobody’s showed up for Buggy. Sengoku is disturbed by this and does some digging. Apparently a vote to retrieve Buggy was placed and the majority thought it was too much work for the second cabin boy (the add on, the spare, the unpromising backup). There was also info that Roger and the losing side were upset with the polling results but weren’t going to do much about it.

Sengoku decides right there and then he’s gonna see why Roger let Buggy onto his crew in the first place and why they don’t want Buggy back.

And…..

Sengoku has no clue why they wouldn’t want Buggy to return to them. He’s crafty, smart, loyal. He’s a good kid by pirate standards. Clearly a trouble maker but the passion he has for chemistry and science is unmatched. The way he solves puzzles and can worm his way out of any situation socially is insane. His treatment of people around him and of Cora himself (even if it’s special treatment😉) is admirable. Not to mention the boys luck.

Sengoku suspect it’s cause of Buggy’s less upfront way of fighting and actually assessing situations is what put The Rogers off. Buggy may be cowardly but if he really is needed he’ll do his part. Plus his long range weapons (bombs, altered guns) are nothing to sneeze at.

Buggy ends up staying with the marines for a really long time even if in the beginning he said he was going to escape and get far far away from them. Instead staying, training and getting stronger.

Decades later Red Haired Shanks comes face to face with a marine with long blue hair and the nickname Ringmaster.

Okay first of all thank you for writing this.

now right now I’m crying because that’s just fucking sad.

them leaving buggy there and how they decided is disgusting and I’m literally devastated. Poor buggy wanna hug him so bad.

For me Roger here failed as the captain bc who tf cares what the crew thinks. He is the captain and he should have been defending Buggy but he didn’t. In here Ace was right Roger was a monster bc left a child who looked up to him like no one else ever did in a town from nowhere behind. I wonder how shanks reacted.

I kinda wished that- I don’t know if you watched the LA but there Garp is on the Plattform where Roger gets killed. I wish that buggy would arrive the Plattform when Roger finished his speech him thinking he will die with no regrets and with starting the new era but the moment he saw buggy his smile vanished and he knew he could no longer die at peace.

I have two things in mind of what buggy could say

He would smile at roger with a trembling body saying something like: “I hoped you lived a good live “captain”

or

2. He would be cold and saying shit like: “That’s it Gol D. Roger. You and your loved one will pay for your crimes” and he would mean it bc with people who believe in him he would get stronger and have more determination

I’m kinda surprised that Sengoku would take with if we think about what he did to Ace considering that wanted to execute him for being roger son not being the second commander of Whitebeard who was equal to roger. But I do not complain. If I think about it Buggy could be trained by Sengoku and Garp and Tsuru. Sengoku and Garp were also equal to roger. And while Sengoku could teach him to be smarter fight smarter, Garp could train him in strength combat and haki. Tsuru could help him to calm himself down and always keep his cool. So he could be powerful yonko level bc that what actually oda said. If Buggy would take effort he would be yonko level.

You know what a sad part of this is Buggy is the kind of character who gets treated bad by the “good” ones (in here the goal of the main character) but he would not get justice. He would die and maybe the others would regret it but probably not the same episode one person would say “he would want that you hate yourself…” like BITCH OFC HE WOULDNT BUT YOU SHOULD BC YOU DESERVE THAT.

anyways I’m getting of the topic I think Buggy is smart and a sweetheart if you treat him well. He maybe loves treasure in an unhealthy amount and can be a little arrogant but it’s like he is be mean but still would do everything for you if you treat him right. (I also believe that he would not have a pride problem to apologize if he did something wrong but that another thing).

again with the Plattform (I hope it’s Plattform English is not my native’s language) the thing is Shanks would see it. And I think no matter if choice one or two you choose he would be angry…even though he has no right too. But Buggy doesn’t care about shanks…well not anymore bc he has Rosi. While he hadn’t a bad relationship with Shanks his relationship with Rosi is much better. Shanks if not meant to be mean only teased him which lead to the whole crew teasing him and Buggy didn’t like that. I mean I don’t think he had a problem with some teasing bc that normal and fun you know? Everyone does that but they teased him about everything and it kinda hurt bc it gave off the feeling he wasn’t taking seriously at all. That he couldn’t be allowed to be sad or scared…genuinely.

With Rosi it wasn’t like that he got comforted motivated. Instea if being told that “a pirate isn’t allowed to be scared” or “are you hiding again” or “you wouldn’t be scared if you trained harder like shanks” he gets “it’s fine I protect you” or “don’t be scared buggy! Your strong and if anything happens I’m right here” and it helps bc it motivates him and them saying that they believe he is strong wants him to prove that and he doesn’t and he makes mistakes and learns from them and gets better bc that how it should be done

So if Buggy and Shanks would meet after decades Shanks would be furious at Buggy for doing this to their captain. But with just a few sentences Shanks anger turned into guilt

“Roger didn’t want me. He left me and abandoned me. No one wanted me”

So I think Shanks would withdraw and just go with it. But now he would feel emptier. It was one thing not having seen buggy and him officially cutting of the relationship was hard for Shanks but he shouldn’t complain he didn’t say anything when they voted to leave him even if he didn’t want that he could do more. Bc they would listen to him.

Buggy himself would live a good life being a very much known marine (vice admiral) having Rosi by his side (this is a Corazon lives AU) and be happy.

I even think that Luffy would be on Buggy’s side if he heard that story. But still would not stop being a pirate

[persefolli]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭'𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐆𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐀𝐠𝐞-𝐆𝐚𝐩(𝐮𝐧𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝), 𝐏𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐃𝐢𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐂𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @xylianasblog, @scarasbaefy, @sukunasbigtiddiewifey, @the-mourning-moon

𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

Nanami clenched his jaw and kept his hand tangled in your hair as you bobbed up and down his length. This is the third time today he's convinced you to give him stress relief during work hours. He knew it was fucked up. Taking advantage of a girl who escaped the countryside for an opportunity to work in the city full-time. But you were just so malleable. 

It started off small, like, little comments about your clothing: “Your skirt is too long.”

Then he started coercing you into staying late:“Have you considered working overtime?” 

Once he spent enough time with you he began offering you rides to the hotel the internship provided you with. But he wouldn’t ask you for gas money, or a morning coffee.

“Pull up your skirt.”

You pawed nervously at your short office skirt. His eyes weren’t on you, but your short red-painted nails that resided on your fingers, which resided on your thighs. Your bottom lip was between your teeth, but you hesitantly began to pull up your skirt.

Stupidly, you didn't wear shorts under. And a garter would be far too scandalous. 

Nanami tilted his head at your striped panties, ones that clearly weren’t meant to be seen. That didn't matter though. What he focused on was the slightly wet patch that stained the crotch part of your panties. He looked back up at you and nodded. “Pretty.”

You began to feel conscious and began wearing your more fancy panties. On Mondays you wore red, Tuesdays yellow, Wednesday pink, Thursday White, Friday Black. Nanami loved Wednesdays. He loved pink on women, which is why he called you into his office every Wednesday night.

Tonight was a Wednesday. 

You closed your eyes and continued sucking Nanami off, fueled by his grunts and the pressure of his finger pads pressing into your skull. He began worming his hips in his chair, and you knew he was close. “Swallow.” He commanded. You did as told, and pulled away from him with glossy eyes. You didn’t  know if he would go further tonight. Usually on Thursdays he spread you on his desk to pull aside your damp white panties and eat you out, then on Fridays he would fuck you.

But tonight he had different plans.

“Your internship is coming to an end, this is your last week right?”

Your face dropped. You still haven't gotten an offer to work for him full-time, and thinking of the time you two spent together coming to an end was sad. Nanami noticed the look on your face and traced your bottom lip with his thumb.

“Don’t pout sweetheart. You know I wouldn’t get rid of you that easily if it were up to me.” He said, bluffing. 

“I worked so hard-”

“I know baby, I know you did.”

You took a deep breath and stood, smoothing out your blouse and skirt. 

“I’m not finished with you.” Nanami said. He stood from his office chair, towering you. “Lay on the couch.”

You walked over to the couch and Nanami was right on your heels. He watched as you laid down, a single leg hanging off the edge of the couch. He grabbed at your ankles and you shifted, allowing him to run his hands up and grab the hem of your skirt.

He worked off your skirt and panties in one go, feeling a bit antsy tonight. He let out a breath once he saw your pink lace bra peeking from the holes in your blouse. The one he bought for you. Nanami caught on to your panty color pattern after taking you back to your hotel for two weeks straight.  He knew you were doing it on purpose, so he began sending underwear sets to your hotel room for you to wear. They were comfy, so you could wear them all day at work. He wanted no time wasted when he called you to his office at night.

Once he got your skirt off he popped the buttons off your blouse and groped at your breast, causing you to moan. You watched him grow hard again, springing free from the limp state it was in after he climaxed for the first time that night.

“Turn around.” He said. 

You got on your hands and knees, facing the skyline of Tokyo while he got a view of your ass. 

This was Nanami’s favorite position because he had the most control. He also knew you liked the city, so looking over the skyline while being fucked was a win for you. He undid his pants and took them off completely this time, not wanting to be restrained by the limits of his trousers. 

He pumped his length a few times before prodding at your entrance. You let out a whine of anticipation, and leaned your head down into the arm of the couch as he pushed into you. Nanami let out a low groan and kept his hands on your hips as he found his rhythm and fucked into you. He bit his lip at the tightness of your pussy, sucking him in and refusing to let him go. With one hand he took off his glasses, which began to fog up from his own heavy breathing. 

“That's right.” He let go of your hips. “Just like I taught you…fuck me back.”

You braced yourself and began bouncing against him, controlling your movements and moaning like a hot mess.  Nanami threw his head back and closed his eyes as you did all the work. He watched the jiggle of your ass with narrowed and strained eyes. He instinctively gripped the flesh of your ass. His. 

Nanami knew he had so much control over you. He made you be extra picky about what you wore, which perfume you chose, what panties you wore, what you ate, what you drank, even how you laughed. 

He was slowly consuming every aspect of your life, and you didn't mind that. You needed someone to guide you. Someone to look forward to seeing every day. If you had the attention of Nanami, a rich businessman, then you would do anything to keep it. 

Nanami let out a loud strangled grunt, feeling his cock pulse and his release approaching. You slowed your pace, digging your hands into the arms of the couch and moving along his dick, teasingly slow. Nanami took a hold of your hips and kept your pace steady, letting out pathetic whimpers as he began to release into you.  You didn't climax, but you knew Nanami would swing around for that later, leaving you wanting more. He knew you would come back later that night, because you couldn't go long without his touch.

“Check your mail tomorrow morning.”

He said before putting back on his pants and sitting back down at his desk.

[tommyandrockersboy]

Rockon- Recruits

Deacon kay was a kind and honest man but if you asked him how he felt about new recruits he lie and say he didn’t mind them but deep down he hated them. He hated the way the would act since they are now in Swat but he usually got over it after while until Jayden ‘Jay’ Cross came along, Jay did not grow out of his ‘I’m in swat now phase’ and the worst part is he has had a crush on Donovan Rocker.

Deacons rocker, The same rocker who held him in his arms as deacon had a break down when he got back from a mission that involved kids. Deacon couldn’t handle calls with kids all he could think about was his own. But also the same rocker who would let deacon fuck him nasty and anytime he wanted.

That was 𝓱𝓲𝓼 Rocker.

It all started one day when 20-David had just got back from a mission and luckily enough cross had been assigned to partner with Deacon. He didn’t seem to mind until Cross ran off and almost got deacon and the team killed But worst of all he wouldn’t shut up about how hot he found Rocker. Deacons Rocker.

Deacon was still with Annie at the time even though they clearly were both not interested in each other anymore as of Deacon sleeping in the guest bedroom. The kids didn’t really seem to catch one which was good but deacon wanted out of this loveless marriage and wanted to be with his rocker forever.

Until Jay cross enter his life,relationship and family.

Rocker had deacon had a thing for boxing each other thats a know thing and at one of these matches Jay decided to watch and had the bright idea to make a move on rocker and by that He kissed him.

Jay kissed 𝓗𝓲𝓼 Rocker

Jay had kissed rocker in front of deacon but he couldn’t do anything and rocker didn’t react his mind went blank, No thoughts no feelings no nothing.

Rocker pushes Jay off. “Get the fuck off of me!” Rocker said wiping his mouth as he glances at Deacon

Jay moves closer to him kind of heart broken. “You were looking at my lips and have been eyeing me for months!” Jay yelled in his defense but it was too late deacon had made his way to rocker and jay on the other side of the locker room.

Jay glanced at Deacon, deacon was trying everything in his power not to lose his shit on jay. David Kay will protect Donovan with his life for anything. Even if a stupid 25 year old who thinks he can just kiss and try to sleep with anyone just because he’s apart of Swat.

“Listen here kid that’s Donovan Rocker. MY Rocker.” Deacon said raising his voice getting closer to jays face.

Jay cross never messed with donovan again but he did fuck annie kay, Deacon after he went home that day moved out and stayed in a hotel till he could find a nice house to rent. Between those 4 and a half days Annie met jay. Jay was what you would call a Himbo man whore.

The 3rd day of deacon being out of the house he came to get some more of his things when he saw them Fucking on the couch. Deacon didn’t react but jay did.

Jay locked eyes with rocker and freezes up and watch’s in fear as he carried out boxes of his stuff.

Just Deacons luck, Annie and jay are in a relationship and he’s met his kids and deacon is pissed that this kid has figure out a way to worm into his life.

One day in the locker room jay had the bright idea to bring up his girlfriend which happened to be Annie kay.

“Come on man tell us her name!” Luca said energetic.

before jay can even say anything deacon spits out. “He’s fucking my wife. Well soon to be ex wife since we are getting divorced and i haven’t even been out of the house for 3 days before he was fucking her in the bed we shared for years. But i’m with rocker now so.” Deacon says slamming his locker shut and leaving.

“David” Rocker said putting a hand on deacons shoulder and pulling him into a hug.

“I love you..” Deacon mumbled quietly into rockers shoulder

“I love you too you will not have to worry about jay anymore.” Rocker said holding deacons face in his hands.

Deacon didn’t know what he had meant but whatever it was he trusted rocker, He loved rocker so it didn’t matter what he meant he knew he in fact didn’t have to worry.

[helpimstuckposting]

Okay man idk idk this worm wouldn’t leave my head I just love making Steve miserable and tbh he’s not even sad enough here so I’m still not satisfied, I want that man ripped in two

I’m a ghost and you are a shadow

Part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight | part nine | part ten | part eleven

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“Steve Harrington is dead! So what the fuck are you?” Eddie screamed in his face. The world froze for a second. Not the same frozen-in-time that Steve got from downing a bottle of whiskey, where he was the only one on earth and it didn’t matter what happened to him. This was like ice down his neck. Like a shock up his spine. Steve stared at Eddie like he’d just grown three heads.

“Dead?” He repeated back. “What the fuck do you mean dead? C’mon Eddie, seriously you’re freaking me out!”

Eddie just stared at him, and in the silence Steve could hear people at the front door, yelling over each other, calling out to Eddie, checking if he’s okay. He thought he recognized the voices, but that didn’t make any sense. There were always ghosts at Steve Harrington’s door, but they were just in his head. Now, they were banging on the wood as someone fumbled for a pair of keys, and Eddie glanced nervously in their direction. Steve couldn’t get any words to choke out past the growing lump in his throat, couldn’t get any air into his lungs to beg Eddie to tell him what was going on.

The key finally clicked through the latch, and the door swung open with a bang. A stampede of feet trampled their way into the kitchen where Eddie still had Steve pinned to the wall, still stared at him without saying anything.

Steve frantically turned his head toward the people he’d seen die, the people he couldn’t protect, who haunted his every waking thought. He didn’t even care that the motion dug the knife into his throat. They were there. They were right there. Dustin and Eleven, Max and Nancy and Robin. Robin was staring at him, holding Dustin back by the shoulders, and looking like the world was crashing in on her. Steve knew his own expression was the same, couldn’t believe his eyes. Eddie’s grip on him loosened and Steve slid to the floor, unable to hold himself up anymore on wobbling legs. He kept staring up at them all, noticed the age that hadn’t been on their features when they’d… when they’d left him. He took in every line, every scratch, every healed over scar that spoke of years and years of life, life that Steve knows they didn’t get to live.

The air still wasn’t making it past the lump in his throat and he tried to breathe deeper, tried to grasp onto one breath, one lungful of air, but it wasn’t enough. The kitchen swam around him, and he was certain that people were yelling or talking or making noise but Steve couldn’t process any of it, he just saw Dustin eaten alive by demobats, wounds too wide to heal. He saw Robin and Nancy pinned to the wall of Henry Creel’s house, the air getting squeezed out of their lungs and they were gasping just like him, pulling in air that wouldn’t come and listening to the blood rush through their ears. He saw it. He was there.

Until he wasn’t.

Until Eddie was in front of him again, hands on the side of his face, telling Steve to breathe and count the pictures on the wall. His eyebrows scrunched up, pictures on the wall? What pictures?

But Steve looked behind Eddie to the usually bland kitchen wall. There used to be a large painting of nothing, some pretentious gold accents that his mother liked, but he had burned it in a drunken moment of pain. The painting he remembered wasn’t there either, and instead of a blank wall there were dozens of pictures. They looked like family pictures, photos of him and the kids, of the kids by themselves, of him and Robin. There were even pictures of he and Eddie — which Steve knew they never took — and blank spaces that were clearly waiting for more. Waiting for more memories, for more additions and times to look back on.

“Steve, Steve are you with me?” Eddie asked, begged, pulling Steves attention back to the man’s face. He didn’t look angry anymore, but Steve couldn’t tell what emotion was there. He’d never seen it on Eddie’s face before. “How many pictures? Steve?”

“Th-Thirty-Eight?” he whispered back. Eddie nodded, hands still clutching Steve’s face but they were gentler now, not directing his view or holding him still, they were just… touching.

“Is it really you?” Dustin asked from where Robin was still holding him back. Steve glanced over at him, taking in the age and the height, the features that were so new to Steve he seemed almost like a stranger. Whatever had happened, Steve knew he wasn’t dreaming or dead or hallucinating, because through all of his nightmares, the ghosts never aged. They all stayed exactly the same as they’d died, Steve couldn’t even picture them aged if he’d wanted to, all he ever wanted to do was forget. But there they were, there they were, and Steve didn’t know what to think.

He nodded at Dustin’s question. His cheeks were cold, Eddie’s hands had dropped from his face and he was standing by the kitchen counter, arms crossed. The distance between them was suddenly an ocean and Steve was almost sad to see it. Eddie was the only familiar thing in this room to him, the only one who wasn’t impossibly here, the only one who didn’t make Steve feel like the world had ended and was now taunting what he could have had. He still looked like he didn’t believe it, like he was calculating something in his head and didn’t trust Steve at all. He wished Eddie’s hands were still on his face.

Still, no one moved toward him and he couldn’t really blame them. He didn’t know what was happening but he hadn’t ruled out some kind of trick yet. This could all be a trap somewhere in his mind, and if it was, it was the cruelest trick Vecna had ever played. But Eddie had said the same thing, right?

“Well we can’t just leave him on the floor,” Robin said. Her voice was quieter than Steve had ever heard it before. The usually boisterous voice that spoke a mile a minute was soft, hesitant, like she was trying not to wake a sleeping dragon — or agitate a dead man.

She slowly stepped out from behind Dustin and walked over to Steve. He watched as her sneakers stopped an inch away from his own, the gap both too close and not close enough. She stuck her hand out, and his eyes flicked carefully between her outstretched hand and her face. What if he reached out and she disappeared? What if he grabbed her hand and she pulled him into a trap? What if she disintegrated into dust the moment their hands touched? But she was right, he couldn’t stay on the floor.

As if she were made of tissue paper, he slowly and delicately reached out his hand, stopping just a breath before touching her palm. He glanced back at her face, took in the gentle curve of her lips as she tried to give him a reassuring smile, however small it was. He placed his hand in hers.

She was so warm. Her hands were soft, though callused in a few places Steve didn’t remember, and she gripped onto him like a lifeline. Her trembling fingers sank into the rough edges of Steve’s hand, and he could feel the dirt caked under his nails but she didn’t seem to mind, just gripped his hand harder. He couldn’t believe how much he craved that touch over the years. He ached for it. Blood pounded through his ears, as if he were underwater, and the only thing keeping him from drowning was the grip Robin had on him, keeping his head above water.

She was so warm. His heart was in his throat, and Steve was choking now for a different reason. It had been years since he felt Robin’s touch — since he felt anyones touch, really — and his eyes burned, throat clenching around the sudden sharp pain that spoke of unshed tears.

He didn’t think he would ever have this back, assumed he would drink himself into an early grave, assumed that the only way he’d see everyone again is if he died as well. If he followed them into the next life, then he’d get his family back.

But here they were. Here Robin was, hand in his, and she was so warm.

Instead of pulling Steve to his feet like she’d intended, Robin sank to the floor with him. He gripped her hand, her arms, her shoulders, he gripped her so tight just to make sure she wasn’t going anywhere and he could feel her damp tears against his neck, soaking into the collar of his shirt.

“I missed you,” she whispered into the fabric, voice as raw as Steve felt.

“I missed you too, Robs. I missed you so much." He clutched at the back of her shirt, face buried in her shoulder and prayed to a god he didn't believe in that this wasn't a trick, that he really had his family back.

—

A little more comfort in this part. I still don't have a plot in mind but I guess my brain is just winging it because I keep thinking of scenes and I just gotta write them down. I've already got most of a part three done, because this part was getting long and I cut it. Stay tuned, folks.

@weirdandabsurd42 @sirsnacksalot