#Made this after playing like maybe six to eight games so it's not the best but going in blind was disorienting at first ngl | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jakekiszska · 2 years

Text

playdate

pairing: eddie munson x female!reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, spitting, p in v intercourse, tiny bit of a master kink if you squint, spanking, praise kink. (reader and eddie are both 18+).

a/n: pls cut me some slack as a d&d 5e player. i tried my best to write as accurately to 1e & 2e as i could. :)

summary: you finally joined hellfire after months of your best friends begging… but you can’t keep your eyes off him the entire time.

if u see an error no u don’t. :)

word count: 2.9k

“shirt looks good on you.” eddie comments, winking as he passes you in the school hallway.

“thanks, perv.” you joke back, giving him a smirk. he blows you a quick kiss before facing the correct direction and walking down the hallway. you made the decision last week to start playing dungeons and dragons with eddie and his friends, so of course today you had to don your t-shirt.

you entered your final class and sat down, hardly able to focus. who really needed math anyway, right? you stared at the white board as the teacher lectured and wrote formulae down. you couldn’t stay focused, so you let your mind wander.

thinking of it, you probably did need math, especially for your dungeons and dragons game… you’d need to add or subtract your modifiers from your rolls, or add to your attacks… so maybe you’d better pay attention.

your teacher’s monotonous voice was hard to focus on, especially since she never faced the class. you took out your notebook and started scribbling tiny doodles in the corner of the page. a few ideas came to you for playing your character today, so you tried to jot them down as discreetly as you could, passing them off as notes.

you thanked all the deities you knew when the bell finally rang. you met eddie in the parking lot, standing by his van. he was chatting with his friend gareth, but quickly turned his attention to you as you approached.

“ready to go?” he asks, looking you up and down. you nod a quick yes and hop into the passenger seat of his van, throwing your stuff to the floorboard. the drive to your house was quick, but eddie stalled you before you could exit the van and head inside.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, looking over at you with a concerned look. normally you would’ve talked his ear off the whole ride over. you try to assure him that you’re fine.

“hey listen, y/n… you’ve been my best friend for like, i don’t know, six? eight years? i know when something is wrong. spill it.”

you finally turn your head and look at him. “i’m nervous to play tonight. what if i look stupid?”

“babe,” he says affectionately, making your stomach lurch, “we’re a bunch of dudes in high school playing a fantasy table-top roleplay. you’re definitely gonna look weird.” he says casually, a playful tone to his voice. you can’t help but laugh. “it’s gonna be okay. i’ll wait to bring your character into the game that way you can see how everyone else plays, okay?” he asks you, his tone comforting.

“okay, eds. okay. that works.” you say, running your hands down your jeans. you open the van door and hop out, strolling over to your porch. when your feet hit the bottom step, you hear eddie call after you. “pick ya up at 6:40!” he screeches, and then you hear the tires of his van screech too as he backs out of your driveway and drives away maniacally.

you grab yourself a snack from the kitchen once you make it inside, a few strawberries your mom had left over from some cake she decorated.

you take them up to your room and set the plate on your bedside table before grabbing out your books and starting on your homework. stupid math.

you work through as many problems as you can before you can feel your eyelids starting to droop. you close your book and slide it back in your back before taking your plate of strawberry stems to the kitchen and dumping them. you quickly wash the plate and head back to your room, anxiously awaiting your evening.

for the remainder of the time you’re waiting for eddie you clean your room up and then decide to take a quick shower. you tie your hair up in a scrunchie to avoid wetting it and you quickly go through your routine. once you’re out you decide instead of wearing your jeans again that you’ll slip on a black skirt that sits just above your knee, and your hellfire shirt.

finally, 6:40 approaches, and just as he promised eddie is in your driveway at that exact moment. you grab your notebook and a pen along with the dice set he gave you and run out to meet him.

you hop in the van and your nerves return, but you try to play it cool. you make it to the school and you’re let in by some of the faculty who have to facilitate after school gatherings, but eddie assures you none of them ever sit in on the sessions.

he gets all of his stuff laid out and puts up his dm screen before sitting down on this throne-like chair. you try not to stare at him, but the way he’s sitting so relaxedly with his legs spread open is making you squirm.

you’d always thought eddie was attractive, but something about him being in his element like this was really tempting to you, and you figured that’s why you were so nervous to play.

all of his friends start pouring into the room and taking their places and eddie has to quiet them down a few times before he can begin.

“y/n won’t be playing immediately, but if you don’t mind would you tell us your characters race and class please?” he asks you, his tone a lot softer than what he uses for the boys.

“um, my character is a hobbit and my class is cleric.” you say nervously, staring at the table.

“a hobbit, huh?” eddie teases. “that’s accurate.”

you can hear his friends dustin and mike laughing insanely loud at his jest. “shove it, henderson.” you say, finally scanning the room. “you’re about 4’6, yeah?” you joke.

the rest of the room laughs at your joke and after a minute more of teasing you get right into the game. eddie was able to work your character in as someone the party met at some stables, and they figured they’d need your spellcasting abilities to help them in battle.

the session goes on for a while and you’re really having a lot of fun, but you can’t take your eyes off of eddie. his facial expressions, his tone of voice, all the gestures he makes towards the party. he’s so immersed and it’s driving you a little crazy. seeing him so passionate is nothing less than hot to you.

it’s time to wrap the game up and you’re just finishing your battle when it’s dustin’s turn to roll for attack. he just makes it and the room erupts, cheering that he finally slayed the beast you’d been fighting.

“congratulations, henderson. describe the killing blow.” eddie beams. dustin goes on to describe some disgustingly gruesome scene and you continue to stare at eddie until he catches your eye, to which you finally look away. when dustin is done talking everyone clears out, leaving you and eddie alone to pick up so he can take you home.

“you did so well tonight! i was so proud of you!” he beams, reaching out to ruffle your hair. his praise makes your body stiffen.

“something wrong?” he asks, walking up behind you and placing his chin on your shoulder. you’re not sure if you can make words but you try to force them out anyway. “um, no eds. i-i’m fine!” you manage, shuffling away from him. his hand catches your hip and spins you around to face him.

“really? you seemed to be staring at me the whole game. have i upset you?” he ponders, leaning in so his breath fans your face. it smells slightly smoky and slightly like mint, and you’re dizzy for a moment.

you assure him he hadn’t, and once again you try to move away, but his grip tightens. “well, i’m really proud of you.” he reiterates, watching you squirm under his gaze. you can almost feel your cheeks flush and your pupils dilate.

he leans in even closer, speaking into your ear. “do you like when i tell you how good you are?” he asks, his voice a bit lower, a tinge raspier.

“oh fuck off, eddie.” you choke out, pushing a hand against his chest.

“is that any way to talk to your dungeon master?”

he pulls away from your face slightly and tilts up your chin with his pointer finger. “my apologies master,” you tease sarcastically, “forgive me?”

this time it’s your turn to taunt him, so you push your hand up his chest and wrap it around the back of his throat, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. he takes a step closer to you and you shudder when you realize just how close he is to you.

“that’s a pretty little skirt you have on.” he whispers. your whole body shudders. “eddie..” you whine, tugging at his hair lightly.

“hmmm.. what is it baby?” he leans in so your noses are touching. “please eddie, kiss me.” you beg, your voice an octave higher than usual. he places his left hand on your other hip before finally closing the gap between your lips.

you aren’t expecting his lips to be so soft. you also aren’t expecting to feel so drunk off his kiss immediately. it’s experimental, but it quickens. he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip and you part your lips for him. he slides his tongue into your mouth and he moans as he feels you suck on it gently.

his hands have made their way around your backside and he slips one past your skirt, keeping it still until he can gauge your reaction. when you don’t stop him, he grabs a handful of your ass before lifting you up and placing you on the nearby table. you whine into his kiss and he presses himself between your legs.

you kiss each other hungrily for what feels like hours until you finally pull away. “hey, let’s get outta here.” you propose, and he nods, moving away so you can grab all of his stuff. his expression takes on that of a lost puppy.

you grab him by the arm and he looks over at you, so you reassure him. “eds, i didn’t wanna stop… i just don’t really wanna fuck in the school after hours.”

“f-fuck,” he stammers, “you wanna.. we’re gonna.. oh my god we’re gonna fuck?”

you shake your head yes at him. “if you want to… let’s go back to your place?” you ask. “hell yeah. hell yes we are going to my place!” he says ecstatically. you grab up all of his stuff and practically race out to his van. he gets you back to his uncle's place in record time and you go in quickly, headed for his room.

once you’re in you waste no time in reconnecting your lips to his. he disconnects to pull his shirt over his head and you moan when you can see all of his tattoos. you lightly scrape your nails over them before reaching behind you and unzipping your skirt, letting it fall to the floor.

“cute panties.” he says smugly, and you slap his arm. you made sure to wear one of your favorite pairs, baby blue and cotton with a pink heart on the front. he sits back on his bed against the headboard and you crawl into his lap, leaning down to kiss his neck. his hands find your hips and he moans as you lick a stripe just below his ear, biting it seconds after.

“kiss me again.” he says, his raspy tone going straight to your core. you connect your lips with his and soon after your tongues are meeting, sliding against each other as you makeout hungrily. your hips start grinding involuntarily but he uses his grip on your hips to help you. you can feel your cheeks flush.

“no need to be embarrassed baby,” he says, almost reading your mind, “if it feels good, then do it. feel how hard i am?”

and you could. you could tell he was straining as you continued to grind your now soaked panties across his lap. after a few more minutes you’re mewling and whining loudly, then you finally beg him to touch you.

“what do you want?” he asks lowly, hands palming at your ass. “want you to touch me, eddie. please.” you whine, arching into him. he slides you off his lap and pushes you down onto the bed so that your back is arched, in a face down ass up position.

“okay, princess,” he teases, rubbing your left thigh softly, “but first you need a punishment for how you talked to me earlier. remember that?”

you let out a deep whine as you feel him grab your panties and rip them down your legs. you clench as you feel the cool air hit your core. “just one, okay? that’s all.” he says, massaging your ass. a second later his hand is gone, and is quickly replaced again with a loud crack. you could feel the cool metal of his rings stinging against your ass sharply. seconds later he leans in to kiss the spot, a gesture to make sure you’re okay.

when he can tell you’re fine he rolls you over onto your back and slides your panties off your legs completely, tossing them to the floor. he pushes your thighs apart and stares down at you, fully exposed for him.

“fuck.” he groans, taking all of you in. “you have the prettiest pussy i’ve ever seen.”

you blush at his comment and throw your arm over your face to hide it. you feel him run two fingers along your slit to gather some of your slick before dipping them into you. he leans down and spits on your clit before his thumb from his other hand rubs tight circles into it. your back arches and you begin to work your hips in time with his hands.

“fuck yeah, baby. fuck yourself on my hands. that’s my good girl.”

my good girl. you shudder again.

“eddie, i’m close!” you warn, his fingers curling inside of you and working your g-spot deliciously. “come on then, lemme see that little pussy cum for me.” he commands, and you’re teetering over the edge. it’d been a while since you came that hard, and eddie wears a proud smirk as he watches your legs shake with aftershocks.

he stands from the bed and you look him up and down, eagerly watching as he unclasps the handcuffs on his belt. his zipper is down soon after and then he’s shuffling out of his jeans, not leaving you much to the imagination. your mouth waters as you see the outline in his briefs - and he is big.

you didn’t notice your mouth hanging open. he sheds his underwear before crawling over you and you admire how tidy his pubic hair is kept… and then you wonder if that’s weird. you won’t say anything.

he positions himself between your legs and leans down to kiss your neck, whispering to you teasingly. “what’s wrong, worried it won’t fit?”

“i don’t care. i want it.” you assure him, and he slides his tip through your folds quickly before pressing his cock inside of you finally. you take it slowly, inch by inch, until he’s bottomed out.

tears prick at the corners of your eyes because of the stretch, but he wipes them away sweetly. “it’s okay, we’re gonna take our time.” he promises, and you lightly tug at his hair. “you can move, please move.”

he pulls his hips back slowly before rutting into you again, working at a slow but delicious pace. “fuck eds, that f-feels so fucking good.” you whine, your hands still tugging at his hair. each time you pull on his hair it spurs him to go faster, and soon he’s pounding into you so hard that you barely recognize the voice coming from your throat.

his fingers dig into your hips and you know the indentions from his rings will leave bruises for you to admire for days. he’s letting out soft moans above you and if he hadn’t been speaking to you so filthy this entire time they’d almost warm your heart.

“i’m not gonna last.” he warns you, his hips snapping into yours quickly. you reach your hand down between your bodies and start to rub your clit, to which he lets out a filthy whine.

“cum for me, baby. let me feel it. cum for me again.” he coaxes, his breathing laboured. a few seconds later you feel the band snap again and your body arches upward as your second orgasm hits you, the sensation washing over you and making you lose vision for a second.

seconds later he pulls out and finishes himself off in his hand.

“holy shit. you’ve been keeping that from me?” he laughs, wiping his hand with some article of clothing he found on the floor. “you could’ve had it if you’d asked.” you tell him, being completely honest.

he walks back over to you and leans down to place a gentle kiss to your forehead. when he pulls back a playful smirk tugs at his lips. “well in that case, do you wanna fuck?”

you grab a pillow from his bed and smack him with it before he lunges at you, pressing kisses into your neck and softly tickling your sides. “i think i really like this, eds.”

“me too.” he assures you, laying down and pulling you onto his chest.

tags: @alwayzthere @strangersingold @garbagevanfleet @harmonyhous @obetrolncocktails (message me to be added!)

#eddie munson #eddie x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie #stranger things smut #stranger things 4 #stranger things eddie #reader x eddie munson #reader x eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie x reader

2K notes · View notes

obsessedtomone · 3 months

Text

Unravel Yourself Before Me ⛓️ Chapter 10 - The Talk▸Shigaraki x femReader

Chapter Summary:

◤There was a certain look in his eyes now, one of a quiet desperation.

Desperation for what? You grit your teeth. Confusion and annoyance simultaneously cross your face, because you realized you couldn’t reliably get a read on him whatsoever—it being especially frustrating when he always seemed to know what made you tick instead.◢ Setting: University AU - No quirks (unless degenerate personalities count) Tags: Slow burn, Eventual Smut, Unhealthy/Toxic Relationships, Humiliation, Mentally Ill Reader, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to ??? Warning: Dead Dove – Do Not Eat | Mind the tags TW: Implied Su/Self H, Dubcon, Reader has a super shitty past like actually, Shigaraki Tomura is his own warning.

AO3 Crosspost | Chain Divider by firefly-graphics

Chapters: One • Two • Three • Four • Five • Six • Seven • Eight • Nine • Ten(ko) • Eleven Updates every Monday!

Chapter 10 - The Talk

Your chair made its usual scraping noise it always did when you dragged it across the class’ marble floors, and as usual, you sat in the back.

Contemplation was written all across your features as you were looking outside at the gray sky of the common cold season.

It was so early, you ended up being the only one in class, actually feeling peaceful in the silence for once—something that rarely ever happened.

Being late to class was never only about sleeping longer—even though that in itself played a big part. Being late was also because it felt reassuring to hear the heaps of people replace the never-ending noise in your head.

You disliked crowds, you fucking hated people, but you despised how lonely you felt in the sea of your suffocating thoughts the most.

As if being early wasn’t weird enough for you, you also didn’t pull out your laptop right away, something you normally would do upon immediately seating yourself. You didn’t check your phone either, you simply just stared at the depressingly gray view, wondering if Shigaraki was going to show up today, after simply ghosting your ass last week.

He’d left you (to worry) to wonder all week as to whether or not he’d gotten caught, gotten in trouble. Maybe he wasn’t so invincible after all and pulling off a large-scale doxxing operation wasn’t as easy as he made it seem—even for the big bad Shigaraki Tomura.

Not like you could’ve asked him though, when the last three messages you sent were shamelessly left on read.

So you’ve been wondering about him—so much so, your brain began spotting not-Shigarakis everywhere you fucking went lately.

It’s uncanny how this particular character seemed to progressively monopolize your everyday attention ever since you’ve crossed each other’s paths. It’s also uncanny how he seemed to evoke certain feelings inside of you—feelings you thought you wouldn’t be capable of feeling anymore. Feelings such as anger, sadness, betrayal and maybe something more.

Something you forcefully shoved deep, deep down so you wouldn’t have to ever feel anymore.

Something really, really dangerous.

Thinking about him as often as you did doesn't fail to irritate you, and no video game, show or playlist could distract you from your thoughts as well as it used to anymore.

Why? In addition to spending your time sinking down the bottomless pit of your mental conundrum, your best friend has also been consistently pestering you lately, to accompany them to a college party—of all things.

It was the birthday party of one of their hook-ups—you either couldn’t remember who the fuck it was or you didn’t bother to ask—a loose connection, or a ‘friend’, as Taylor would sometimes refer to them.

You fucking hated parties, but the way your friend looked at you with their annoying puppy eyes wasn’t lost on you. Especially since they’re always going above and beyond to help you out, whenever you need them to, no questions asked.

(A big fucking lie, they’d always ask you so many fucking questions.)

Therefore you’d said yes. To both yours and their own surprise.

Which by extension also meant you had to go shopping for new “party-adequate” clothes today, partly because you don’t really plan to embarrass your friend and because it’s also been a while since you’ve worn something nice. You usually don’t, because who the fuck are you trying to impress?

For Taylor however, once again, you’d agreed.

The bell rings, bringing your awareness back to the present as the students poured in and one-by-one found their seats.

It didn’t take long to see a familiar black hooded figure, trudging its way to you all the way from the front entrance. The closer he got with every step, the faster your heart threatened to beat out of your chest, but you didn’t understand your feelings enough to be able to tell why.

“Hey,” he greets you in a quiet, rough voice, avoiding your gaze in a way he’s never done to you before.

You stare.

The man who casually destroyed half the careers of people in your college like it was nothing. For you.

He slid down into the seat next to yours, dropping his bag to the side of his chair and still not bothering to look your way.

It struck you as odd for him to avoid you, when usually he did nothing but his absolute fucking best to capitalize on your attention, whichever way he thought he could get it.

Not today, apparently.

“Hey, you good?” The words slipped out of your mouth before you could realize their implication.

Shigaraki finally turned his head to you, looking a bit taken aback. His lips were pressed into a thin line and his posture was tense.

He doesn’t give you a verbal reply, but instead slightly nods his head once.

Which in turn pushed you to pry further.

“Sooo, you left me on read,” you mention casually in a lilt, resting your arm on the desk and supporting your chin with your hand.

His strikingly red eyes widened and then quickly narrowed, gaze scrutinizing your features and scanning for something he couldn’t seem to find.

You wait patiently, but it doesn’t take long for his dry lips to part.

“I was uh… busy,” he mutters, hand lifting to scratch at his neck and drawing your attention to the many fresh-looking red angry lines that he doesn’t seem to have trouble deepening.

“What?” you huff in amusement. “Did you get in trouble after all?” Your elbow slides along as you lean in nonchalantly, reaching your free hand to put a stop to the absent-minded self-harm.

Your move wasn’t exactly tender, but you don’t swat his hand away with a grimace this time and he—He notices.

Tomura blinks, wondering if you really did hit your head since the last time he’s seen you.

“Huh?”

You quirk a brow. “D’you lose your hearing too, idiot? I asked if you got in trouble after I texted you last time.”

“No?” he scoffs, looking at the hand that was still holding his.

Your hand.

It was warm.

And incredibly soft.

A rosy color began to spread on his pale cheeks.

You roll your eyes and frown at his weirdly distracted demeanor.

“Tsk, forget about it,” you end up grumbling, releasing his hold—but he’s as quick as a cat to grab your wrist instead, immediately giving you a bout of deja vu.

There was a certain look in his eyes now, one of a quiet desperation.

Desperation for what? You grit your teeth.

Confusion and annoyance simultaneously cross your face, because you realized you couldn’t reliably get a read on him whatsoever—it being especially frustrating when he always seemed to know what made you tick instead.

Shigaraki lowers your wrist, slowly, deliberately sliding his cold fingers against your palm before intertwining them with yours experimentally. And for some unknown reason—to you and to him—you didn’t move to pull back this time.

The thought you had while looking into his eyes made you gasp softly.

“Shigaraki…” you whispered, eyes lowering to stare at the thin masculine fingers holding your hand like you were something he could break.

His eyes follow your gaze and he finally breathes, tightening his grip on your hand just barely. “Yeah?”

“What are we doing?” Again?

When he looked at you again, it seemed like you could physically feel the world spinning on its own axis. He looked less vulnerable this time as he looked unsure. Your brain was trying and failing to piece it together, but something important was missing, bewitched by a beautiful set of red eyes.

The professor walks in and greets everyone, but Tomura couldn’t care less, because it takes him all two seconds to come to a decision.

Using a little bit of force, he pulled you out of your chair and dragged you on the way out of the classroom. You surprisingly let him without much protest, the back of his dark colored hoodie taking up most of your vision and the shock of unruly white hair bouncing softly in his stride as he casually fucking kidnaps you from your shared computer science class.

A few curious looks were thrown your way, including the fucking professor himself, begging you to reconsider, but something about Shigaraki’s weird determination and the curiosity devil sitting on your shoulder himself pulled you in to follow.

His spell slightly wears off the moment you’ve stepped out of the class, panic filling you as bills of valuables you couldn’t afford to replace were now left behind.

“Wait, we left our bags in class!” You shake his hand slightly and try for his attention.

“Shut up,” Shigaraki unexpectedly snaps at you, sounding angry and making your body stiffen.

“What? Where are we going? Hey! Stop!” you reply, finally starting to resist, but his grip on you tightens exponentially.

He didn’t know where he was taking you. This wasn’t part of any grand scheme of his, he just knew he needed you alone.

It wasn’t like you could suddenly read minds, however.

“I said shut UP! Just follow me,” he barks at you again, raising his strained voice, desperate for you to just fucking listen to him for once.

Your lips pursed at his reaction. You were not his doormat.

“Or what?” you challenge, putting actual force into slowing him down, even if it meant hurting yourself in his tight grip.

“What?” He snaps his head in your direction and finally stops in his tracks, dismayed.

“Or fucking what, I asked?” You try to free your hand from his, but he wouldn’t let you. “What ya gonna do this time, crazy?” you ask, anger quickly weaving itself in your tone.

In the span of a moment, you see how his expression goes from irritated confusion to something dark.

Shigaraki releases your wrist and you pull away immediately, stepping back while he stalks forwards, regret flowing through your veins at whatever stupid idea compelled you to follow him earlier.

Your back hits the wall in the familiar way it always happens whenever Shigaraki is in your proximity.

Yeah, definitely deja vu.

“This is not what I wanted to—ugh, GODDAMNIT!” he shouted at no one, but it still ended up making you jump.

He ran his hand across his face in obvious frustration.

When he finally seems to gather himself, his intense gaze falls back to your face, and you can almost feel the weight of his emotions bearing down on you.

The air you breathe becomes charged with an electrifying tension as his haunting red eyes pierce through your soul and an unsettling chill creeps over your skin.

The totality of his attention was now narrowed to yourself only.

This is the look that he was missing minutes ago.

The trademark Shigaraki look.

He closes the space and cages you in between his arms in a way you now know it’s on purpose, forcing you to focus on him and only him, the way all he could fucking think of lately was you, you, you.

“We’re in the hallway, again,” your voice quivers slightly and you roll your eyes in faux confidence. “Do you have an exhibitionism kink?” you say, puffing in his face and furrowing a brow now that he was so close and you could literally feel the tickle of his breaths against your face.

It lightens him up in seconds and he cracks an amused smile, tight expression slightly softening at your quip.

“Do you really want to find out?”

“Shigaraki,” you warn and glare at him sharply.

And he absolutely loathed when you said his name like that—cold and detached.

He’d prefer you say it differently, dripping with adoration, with lust.

Worshiping him like the god he was sure he was—calling him by his first name.

“What,” he mutters in a gravelly tone, mouth slowly inching closer to yours, aching for a taste.

You hesitate for less than a moment, but catch yourself in time before you lose yourself again. Before you lose yourself to him.

“I don’t want to fucking kiss you,” you glance down at his lips, barely a hair away from touching yours. He stiffened, rough hands at the sides of your head clenching into tight fists and his jaw locks.

He wanted you, he wanted you, he wanted you.

“That’s a lie,” he finally whispers, blood-red eyes boring into you in the way you’ve come to accept as familiar, quickly searching for confirmation, anything to prove that he was right, that you were in fact lying, because he was this close to fucking losing control again in front of you, take you by force and undo all his recent efforts to make you like him.

Maybe you wouldn’t be compliant at first, but he’d take you whichever way he can get you if it meant you would be fucking stuck with him. You’d understand one day, surely—

“No, it’s not.” Your brows shot down, interrupting his train of thought. “First, explain to me why you thought it was fine to do all that shit to me, to harass me.” You place your hands on his chest, pushing him back softly. He growls in response, but doesn’t let you create distance, doesn’t budge from his rightful spot—towering over you.

Hearing footsteps and consequently seeing the random strangers passing by and wearing disgusted looks on their faces made you grow embarrassed at world record speeds.

Shigaraki was pinning you to the wall, and you could only imagine how the two of you looked like a couple of highschool band kids making out in the hallway.

“You know what—” You looked around nervously. “Let’s not do this here,” you try to reason, suddenly painfully aware of your surroundings. You returned your gaze to him, hoping he’d have a shred of shame, or empathy, or something and understand, but unfortunately for you, he couldn’t care less about your discomfort or how this made either of you look.

Instead, his mind was focused, running through all the scenarios, all the possible things he could say right now to win you over to his side, but for once, he fell short.

What could he say to you? You heard rumors about him, but you probably didn’t truly understand their weight.

You wouldn’t understand how obsessively he wanted to fuck you over, to ruin your life and destroy your ego, until the only person in the universe that was left to want you as you’d be—broken and irreparable—would be him.

Only him.

Because he could.

Because no one ever takes away his broken toys.

Still, he’d decided to go through the pacifist run for now, in hopes of you becoming willingly compliant. It would be much easier if you’d just willingly submit to him, rather than risk you taking the forever exit and never getting to see you again.

Tomura couldn’t tell the difference between romantic feelings and obsession. Between cherishing something or wanting to destroy it before it turned to weakness.

But that’s not something you’d ever understand.

So instead, he scanned over your face, as if the correct dialogue option would magically pop up and save his run, which unfortunately for him, would never happen. “I fucking like you,” Shigaraki confesses bluntly, giving you pause. You look at him, startled, waiting for him to correct himself. Until you become confused.

And then you seethe.

“So fucking what?” You finally snap out of it, raising your voice and elbowing him away as hard as you could, feeling like the ground was swallowing you in. “You’re so fucking twisted if you think that this is how you treat the person you have feelings for—or that it would somehow make up for all the fucking shit you’ve done!” you shout at him unrestrained, your noise crinkling in disgust.

Hurt flashes across his face and he snarls.

“You—!”

“Yes,” he hisses at you with a terrifying smile, the visible pain on his face morphing into something akin to despair in a matter of seconds. “Yes, I’m so, so incredibly fucked up. You’re abso—fucking—lutely right,” he chuckles dryly, “Did you expect a bouquet of flowers and a heartfelt apology? Grow the fuck up,” he spits the words defensively, taking a step back.

Wide-eyed and brows creased, you watched him in true disbelief, but before you could retaliate, he spoke first.

“You’re so fucking strange. I don’t know how to fucking deal with you. There’s nothing special about you, yet you—”

You? You’re strange? You?!

“I can’t get you out of my fucking mind! Every damn day, I obsess with thoughts of… thoughts of you. You’re so fucking hot and cold, you ignore me, rile me up, despise me again, then you’re friendly and fucking ask me if I’m okay. Me! You’re asking ME!” his panicked voice cracks and all previous semblances composure slip away from him, baring his teeth at you, looking absolutely unhinged.

Because nobody asks Shigaraki Tomura if he’s doing okay. His confession left you speechless, but not for long.

You lunge forward, grabbing the hem of his shirt and pulling him close.

And he bent for you.

He always did.

“What gives you the right to have feelings for me, Shigaraki?” you speak and your expression turns sour. “Do you even fucking know what I went through, to get here? You don’t know shit. A pathetic little sociopath that’s never learned to be human, who uses other people’s fucked up little secrets to own them. For just a little bit of fun.”

Weeks of pent up anger, all slip out of you at once.

“You don’t know ANYTHING about who I am, who I was, yet you play with my life and act like I’m your fucking toy!” you inhale sharply, “You then manipulate my only fucking friend to get what you want. You come to my house. You pretend you’re a good boy. For how long, hm?” You tilt your head in feigned innocence. “How long until you snap again and do it all over again? Until I do something that displeases your Highness and you quadruple down to make sure I really kill myself this time?” The last of the words tumble out and you feel your throat closing, making you choke up.

Shigaraki pressed his lips into a tight line, shoulders slumping.

He couldn’t let you slip through his fingers like this. He’d picked the wrong answer. He’d fucked up.

Shit, shit, shit.

“I told you, I won’t fucking—”

“Do that again? Why?” You can’t help but break into a bout of manic little giggles. “What’s different? What’s changed? You want me to believe that, just because your twisted little heart feels something for once—that you’ve changed? You’re a different person?” Your grip on his shirt tightened, knuckles turning white and you were seeing red.

“You mean it? You’ll leave me the fuck alone if I reject your feelings right fucking now? That you’ll never talk to me again if I fucking ask you to? Pinky—fucking—Promise?!”

Shigaraki’s body started tensing and you noticed.

He couldn’t deny and he couldn’t promise you any of that—because you’ve seen straight through his nature. He’d underestimated you. Should’ve known better judging by the information he dug up about you. Watching your disgusting joke of an ex use you and then him using that and posting the media for everybody to see, only to bring you down under his foot where he wanted you to belong.

No, you were absolutely right about him.

Still, he hated the impact your words had on him.

He hated the way you made him feel.

“Hm? Not even going to go ahead and deny it? Maybe lie a little?” You release him with a sardonic smile plastered onto your face. “Fucking thought so,” you finally finish, turning your back on him—but the fucking snake slithers his long arms around your waist and pressed you close to him. You felt his heart thumping violently against your back and his erratic breathing against your neck.

“Let go,” you warn carefully.

“No,” he grunts, “No, you’re coming with me, and we’re going to fucking fix this.”

Your fingers were desperately twisting in the fabric of his black sleeves, working to pry his hands away from you. “Fucking let go of me, Shigaraki. Now.” you struggled uselessly and your voice cracked, “I’m fucking done talking with you. I don’t want to fucking see your stupid fucking face ever again!”

If there was one thing you hated more than obsessive psychopathic assholes, that would be obsessive psychopathic assholes with the ability to ignore you saying ‘no’ and physically taking your autonomy away when you didn’t want them to.

“Ugh!”

“Please…” he whispered so quietly you almost didn’t catch it—and then all the sudden, his hold on you was gone.

You thought either hell froze over or you’ve finally lost it, because if you heard correctly, Shigaraki was fucking begging.

Begging you, of all people.

“What?” you turned your head, mouth ajar, to stare at the most horrified you’ve ever seen Shigaraki be.

He didn’t repeat himself.

Instead, he backed away like a wounded animal, turned around and stormed off on squeaking converse, leaving you in the dust for once.

Several moments had passed after he’d left, with you standing and looking in the direction Shigaraki had disappeared, trying to wrap your head around the entire fucking situation.

Eventually you turn around, different emotions overwhelming your senses as you begin stomping back to the classroom to retrieve your belongings.

Anger. Confusion. Shame.

Why did your life turn into a fucking soap opera all over again?

─────────

It was getting quite cold, you noticed. A temperature that the thin fabric of your cheap clothes wouldn’t be able to shield you from, especially not today.

You were waiting outside the campus gates for Taylor to finally go shopping together, hoping that’ll cheer you up or distract you from the earlier… incident.

“Jeez babe, did a truck run you over on the way out?” Taylor quipped upon finding your gloomy form leaned against the fence.

“Fuck off with that and let’s go, I’m freezing.”

They eyed you suspiciously for a moment until a knowing smirk formed on their stupid fucking face.

“Anyway, so—I pretty much bombed my history exam, but did you know the professor…”

It’s probably been like five minutes total since entering the mall’s forever 21—maybe ten if you’re really generous, and it makes you roll your fucking eyes, because you’ve already somehow ended up losing your friend to the sea of endless clothing articles.

Navigating around on your own like the big girl you were, you managed to actually find a cute band shirt and some black jeans that you could add to your lackluster wardrobe. Taylor should be proud.

You were in the middle of wondering what exactly your friend meant by ‘looking good’ for a party you didn’t care for, when you accidentally bump into something—or someone.

“Ah shit, my bad—” you quickly say, as you turn around and your eyes meet a pair of beautiful turquoise ones.

It stuns you and your gaze lingers for a second longer than it was appropriate, looking away too late by the time you realized you were staring. You felt your face burning, blushing like a fucking teenager.

The person you bumped into was an incredibly handsome dude, black ink tattoos covering most of his features—and daddy issues—burnt black dyed hair and the darkest, hottest eye-bags you’ve ever seen before. His nose, ears and lips were all pierced multiple times.

The guy looked like he came straight out of a rock band performance and you felt like you were about to be taken to the back stage.

He watches you, an amused smile gracing his lips.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” the playboy says with an impossibly husky voice, and you fucking go beet-red at the sound of it. At the prospect of him giving you attention.

You weren’t used to being around men so fucking out of your league, let alone for them to be hitting on you. You also liked to fantasize that you weren’t the type to fall for it so easily. That you weren’t like the others.

That made you 1) incredibly lucky for it to happen to you and 2) incredibly wrong and delusional about what kind of person you really were.

It took you twenty something years to get to where you finally realized it, but it turns out, you absolutely were the type to fall for charismatic sweet talk and attention—especially when said attention came from goth fuckboys with black hair and gorgeous blue eyes.

“F-Fuck off, dude,” you bark with no bite, feeling especially embarrassed at him catching you off-guard like this.

“That’s the plan doll, but you’re kind of blocking the way,” he chuckles and your eyes widen for a second before you step aside begrudgingly.

You hoped this would be the last of your interaction with him, but the universe must hate you, or you haven’t prayed enough to your god in this lifetime, because instead of fucking off like he promised he would, his lips part again to speak.

“So that’s what you’re into, huh?” He attempts to make small talk, pointing at the band shirt in your arms.

“Huh? Ah. Sure. Used to be,” you answer mechanically, looking anywhere you could but him.

“Oh? What are you into now, then?”

God, the fucking awkwardness could kill you.

Why did he engage with you when there’s ‘sweethearts’ all over this fucking store? Is he the type to hit on literally anybody? You couldn’t help but feel like he was one hundred percent toying with you.

“I-It’s none of your business and I’d like to find my friend now. Bye!” You turn to walk away, to find your fucking friend and to escape this unbearable situation, but life was never fucking easy.

The usual.

“Hey, stop trying to wriggle away from me. Tell me what your name is, at least.” He put a warm hand on your shoulder and you tensed up. “Mine’s—”

“Dabiiiiiii!” you heard your friend squeal in the distance and turn your head to them, feeling dumbfounded.

“Tay?” his smile widened.

Oh, for fuck’s sake.

“You guys know each other?!” Taylor wrapped their arms around ‘Dabi’, giving him a good squeeze. He ‘patted their back’, fingers pressing and feeling around in what you could only describe an incredibly flirty manner.

“We were getting there.” He gave you a lazy smile and then winked.

“Who’s this guy?” You glare at your friend and throw your thumb backwards at the ‘Dabi’ dude.

“I’m right next to you, angel,” he replies, leaning in too fucking close for your comfort, his hot and minty breath making contact with your neck.

You shoot them both a bewildered look, step backwards and cover your neck with your hand like he just shot hot flames against it.

“Dabi, don’t pick on her! She’s my little wallflower!” Taylor obnoxiously tells him in a sickly sweet tone that you’ve only seen them use on people they sleep with.

You hated that they both treated you like the fucking middle child, standing in the way between them and the bedroom, but neither seemed to really mind while gazing deeply into each other’s eyes, the way only lovers would.

It was fucking gross and you were gearing up to leave.

“That so? She’s cute, you think she’d give me her number?” The stranger nudges you. “Mm, what do you say, doll?”

“You know what?” You give Taylor a tense grin. “Fuck this, fuck yourselves, and then text me when you’re done with it.” Flipping them both off, you throw the clothes you picked up back on the pile and quickly storm out of the store.

“Sheeesh, she’s a lively one.” His lazy grin spread. “Was only fuckin’ around, you think she’s really mad at me?”

“Don’t tease her too much, Dabi. She’s been through a lot lately.” Taylor cupped his cheek fondly.

“Yeah? Reminds me of a… friend I have, actually. I’d bet a heavy stack, they’d get along,” he murmurs absentmindedly, finally turning his attention to them fully, leaning in for a kiss. Taylor reciprocates, flicking their tongue against his lower lip almost immediately, silently asking for access. He could only groan, more than happy to oblige.

You end up walking around the mall aimlessly by your lonesome, sort of pissed off that your friend is ditching your shopping date for some random hot guy right after they begged you to go with them for so long.

The nearest GameStop was only a couple of feet away, so you decide to go in and kill some time but not really planning to get anything.

You’ve learned there is no point in buying physical things, seeing as you never know when you’ll have to move again. It would be nice to start collections, to be able to keep them, but you know better than to trust your life not to fuck you over again.

In the future, when you’ve secured a well paying job, an apartment that you could call your forever home, you’ll make sure to fill it with whatever your heart fucking desires.

But for now, you’ll lose yourself in browsing the store, positively overwhelmed by colors and shapes of your nostalgia. You read the titles you used to play, pick up merch of your favorite franchise and just quietly live in the moment, nursing the forgotten child inside you.

The cashier looked making-less-than-minimum-wage bored, scrolling mindlessly on her phone, so you kept wandering around the small empty store unbothered, looking at various items on every shelf.

Until you heard your name spoken out loud by some guy behind you.

You think you feel a comical cross-popping vein appear on your fucking forehead.

Why couldn’t everyone leave you the fuck alone for once today? Is that too much to fucking ask?

You turn around to get a look at whatever asshole ended up recognizing you, and are met with a pair of familiar brown eyes.

“...Hi,” you reply, swallowing empty.

You honestly thought you’d never see this guy again, that’s the reason why you didn’t end up shooting him a message, but after all that’s happened to you in the almost two months that since passed, it now feels a little silly to not have texted him this entire time.

Not for a lack of trying, though, you were often debating with yourself, but opted against it every time as you felt like the grace period was long over and he probably wouldn’t have appreciated your half assed attention.

It takes you a split second to recognize the simple truth—that you were wrong.

“H-Hi!” he beamed at you.

“Hey, it’s been a while,” you admit sheepishly, scratching the back of your neck and looking over his appearance properly, now that it wasn’t obscured by dim colorful arcade lighting in the middle of the night.

A thick white beanie crowned his loose, messy, long purple hair, and the graphic tee he wore—a superhero anime you'd only caught glimpses of online—was clearly two sizes too big for him. Your almost-friend was buff, short sleeves revealing endless weeks of training. But what caught your attention was the reading glasses that you’re positive he hadn’t worn the first time you’ve encountered him—or has he?—and subsequently the smattering of acne scars that laid down uneven patterns of rugged skin, making you wonder just how painful that must’ve been to deal with.

Despite all that, it was the reluctant shy demeanor, contrasting his intimidating, rough features, that made you recognize him right away.

The arcade guy.

“What brings you here?” You turn your attention to a cute fucking mug in your hands, and ponder if you should make an exception to your no-buying-stuff rule this once.

“I—uhmm. I actually came here with a friend, and we split off earlier! I wanted to see if they finally had a copy of Elden Ring here. It’s been sold out for like a week now, can’t find it anywhere. I’ve been on a Dark Souls marathon for the past three months, waiting for the release, but after it came, all these stupid ass bots scalped every copy off the freaking internet!” The guy rolled his eyes. “A-Ah, sorry! I went off talking too much again! W-What about you? Why are you here?” he said, left hand rubbing at his right arm, suddenly feeling self-conscious in front of you.

“Same thing, actually. My friend—” You frown, remembering why they ditched you, “Uhhh, we also kinda split up.”

“Really?! That’s crazy!” he bounced on his feet a little more excitedly than he should’ve. You remembered why you found the guy cute back then, despite not having bothered to remember his name.

Oh shit, what was his name, actually? The one he saved in your contacts merely referred to him as ‘arcade guy’.

“So, umm. There’s an electronic store a floor below us. W-Would you like to try the new VR-Headset with me? Pretty sure we could play a round of Payday 2 for free if we ask,” he proposed shyly, gauging your reaction and threading between taking it back or letting you answer.

He definitely saw hesitation in your face, but to both of your surprises, you put the mug back in its place and smiled at him.

“Sure, fuck it, why not?”

“Fuck—! There’s only one bag left, hurry!” gamer dude exclaims, but unfortunately you’re downed again.

“Shit, this VR shit is tripping me out, I can’t aim for shit,” you admit, exasperated.

“It’s ok, hold, hold, hold—I got you!”

By the time he got to you though, a dozer fucks him up and you both lose miserably.

You take your headset off and notice that both of you were kind of sweaty and out of breath.

“Oh, fuck. What’s the time? Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the guy asks, putting the headset and the controllers back in place and looks at his phone. You do the same. “Ahhhhhh, he’s going to kill meeeeeeee!” He panics after reading a text on his phone, and proceeds to start walking off right after.

“I gotta find my friend again, but it was really, really fun! See you around!” He waves at you, and before he can leave, you subconsciously reach two fingers and yank him by the back of his hood.

“Urk–!” he coughs, getting mildly strangled by the material. “What was that for?” his voice wavers and he shoots you a nervous look.

“I—Uhh… I never got your name, actually—and I had fun, too,” you look away, feeling pretty guilty.

“P-Pretty sure I told you my name last time,” The guy fidgets with the collar of the hoodie, a blush spreading on his acne-ridden skin.

Damn, he wasn’t cutting you any slack, huh?

“I know, I’m really sorry I for—”

“It’s fine. You don’t have to force yourself, really!” shy guy laughs nervously. “I really enjoyed gaming with you, though. At the arcade and here too, but I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable or anything. I asked you to come here on a whim, actually. I’m sorry.”

“No, listen, man,” you begin, staring at your shoes and feeling remorseful. “There’s nothing wrong with you and I’m not forcing it, I’m just really garbage at making human connections. I push everyone away, not just you. So don’t, uhh. Don’t feel bad about it, kay? I was wrong, though. I’d really like to game with you again sometime. It’s is fun.” You reach your sweaty-ass hand out for a handshake.

The guy stares at it hesitantly for a second and then takes it.

“Honest?” he asks.

“Honest,” you answer.

“That’s fucking awesome!” He jumps and adds, “I-I was actually replaying that night in my head over and over, trying to figure out what I did to mess up…”

You must’ve made a face, because he was quick to back himself up.

“I-I mean! It’s okay now. I’m also… bad at making friends. So I like—understand or whatever,”

His phone went off, startling him.

“Shit, shit, shit. I gotta run!” He spins on his foot and paces away. “Name’s Iguchi, by the way!” Iguchi shouts at you on the way out and you smile, waving at him and pulling out your phone to make sure his name gets saved properly this time around.

You also make your way outside the tech store and throw one last look at the mall’s exit, seeing long purple hair bouncing around from a jog, to catch up to… Goth dude? They know each other?

Immediately after, Taylor calls you up.

“So, I bought you some shit I know you’ll like,” they giggle before continuing, “Oh, your Holiness, will you ever forgive me for hooking up in the forbidden changing rooms?” your friend gasps, “Do you wanna know what his dick looks like?!”

“Ew, gross! Taylor, please—” you grimaced, praying they’re joking.

“Oh my god, he also really wanted your number btw! I’m soooooo looking forward to the party on Saturdaaayyy!” they squeal into your ear. “Hold on! Don’t move, I think I see you!” Your friends waves at you enthusiastically with like thirty bags in their hands all the way from the other side of the floor.

How they even spotted you from so far away was a mystery completely beyond your current cognitive capabilities.

“Can we finally leave now? I wanna go home,” you grunted into your phone’s mic.

“Ohh, shut the fuck up. Bet ya bought like, at least three stupid games from the nerd store while I was getting dick, don’t even lie to me, girl!”

You blushed, standing still and waiting so they could catch up with you. “Only one, actually,” you admit with a snort, sending you both into a chuckle fit.

Taylor skips the last few steps to you, hooks their arm into yours and pulls you forward with them, as if it wasn’t you who was waiting on them the entire time. “C’mon, we gotta catch the train.”

“Okay, but you are buying your fucking ticket this time around, right?”

“Riiiight,” they giggle.

You roll your eyes and smile at your friend, burning red eyes plaguing the back of your mind for the days to follow, as will the four little words that you swear you could still hear ringing in your ears.

’I fucking like you.’

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x y/n #emotional hurt/comfort #shigaraki tomura #unhealthy relationships #dead dove do not eat #trigger warnings #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki fanfiction #shigaraki x you #tenko shimura #tomura shigaraki #college au #reader is female

27 notes · View notes

wreywrites · 7 months

Text

Tiger Shark

Part 2: The Sea

Chapter 11

We watch in silence until the hovercraft has removed the last of the three bodies. I add three X’s to the Dead Chart, then decide it is as safe as it will ever be to refill the empty water bottle. Besides, only Taffeta and Tychus are left of the Careers. Zalea is still out there, and she made it very clear that after the stampede, things were no different between us. She’s formidable, but against two of us, I am confident we would beat her. And that just leaves the boys from Three and Twelve, neither of whom I have seen since the bloodbath. They could be anywhere, doing anything.

And then it hits me. There are only seven of us left. I return to the cave with the water bottle and grin at Mako as I go to our backpacks to add the tablets to the water. “They’re going to interview our people.”

He raises an eyebrow.

“Top eight,” I say, still smiling, opening the box of tablets. “Bring out the friends and family. Well, top seven, actually, since Tychus took out that other girl… Oh no.”

“What?” Mako is on his feet and at my side in a second. “What’s wrong?”

Silently, I hold up the second empty box of tablets.

His face sinks. “That’s not good at all.”

Before Elsie and Merritt said they’d gotten some, I’ve never heard of a tribute getting water-purifying tablets from a sponsor. I suspect that’s one of their ways to keep the Games from going on forever. If we can’t get drinkable water, we’ll get desperate fast, and then we’ll start fighting each other for anything we can get. It would sure speed things up if Mako and I were to now find ourselves without drinking water.

“We could boil it, you know, like how you purify salt water if you’re desperate.” Mako says, though from his tone I can tell he already knows what I’m going to say.

“The only one of the many items we need for it that we have is the pot.” I take a deep breath. “We’ve got two bottles. That’ll last a while if we’re careful. Enough time to plan the best course of action, figure out who’s most likely to have a way to get clean water, find them, and kill them.”

But as the day drags on, we realize that, for all we know, no one has a way to purify water. It would explain three tributes slugging it out by the river, being watched (and finished off) by a fourth, who did seem very interested in taking anything he could find off their bodies.

“Maybe that’s why Tychus killed Seven. Maybe she had some tablets. Or maybe they were running low and with her dead that’s one less person to share water with,” Mako says. “But if that’s the case, why wouldn’t he go back and kill Taffeta right away and then not have to share with anyone? Or kill her before he left? No, the cannon always sets everyone on edge, so he would’ve had to wait until after. But then why hasn’t he done it yet?”

As Mako settles in for bed that night, I add the twelfth tally to the wall and scratch an X under Six, Seven, and Eight. We are no nearer to figuring out who has water, and we have only one bottle left. I am tempted to just drink some of the river water. Maybe it’s fine. But maybe it isn’t. It’s just as likely to be full of some horrible bacteria or something as it is to be drinkable.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The next morning I double-check my math from the night before. I don’t exactly trust my brain in matters of math while on watch, but I am confident I am right. I leave the cave and find Mako starting a fire. He plans on trying to boil the water and seeing what happens. I don’t approve of this plan, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Happy birthday, old man,” I pat him on the back as I walk by.

He snorts. “Thanks. Never thought I’d live to see nineteen.”

“Well you’re sure cutting it close with this whole water thing, but you’ve made it.”

We spend the day sitting in the shade of the trees, eating blackberries, drinking as little as humanly possible, and trying to come up with a plan. Finally, while the anthem plays the end of another deathless day, we decide to go after the Careers.

The next morning, we pack everything in the backpacks and hide them up trees. We scatter our firewood back around the tree patch and dump the coals out of the pot, which we then smear with mud and hide up another tree. We eat a breakfast of only blackberries because the rest of the food we have is dried or salty or both, which in no way helps our dehydration situation. Finnick hasn’t sent us anything since the binoculars, but I am kind of glad about this because I am sure bread, especially the sweet stuff, would make me thirstier than I already am. Though I wish I had something to eat other than blackberries.

We each take only one spear, hiding the other four in a hollowed-out fallen tree. Having run out of ways to delay the inevitable, we each take a last sip of water and start across the plains toward the cornucopia. We don’t even know if the Careers are there, but we don’t know where else to start.

Halfway to the cornucopia, a tiny parachute lands in front of us.

I open the box. Inside, wrapped in some sort of thin paper to keep it from bouncing around and breaking, is a vial about as big as my thumb with an eye-dropper lid. I stare at it, confused, then hold it out to Mako.

He snatches the vial and twists the lid off so desperately I’m afraid he’s going to drop the whole thing, spilling its precious contents, whatever they are. I only know they are precious because the Games have been going almost two weeks and the vial is small, both of which point to it being very expensive. But Mako does not spill any of it. He holds the eye dropper under his nose and takes a delicate sniff, then smiles.

“We can go back,” he says. “We’re good. Let’s go back.” And he turns and starts back toward the cave.

I jog after him. “What are you talking about?”

“It’s for water. I forget the name, but they’re drops. You just put a couple in, let the water sit for half an hour or so, and you’re good to go. Just like tablets. But this should last us,” he holds it up to the sun, gauging how full it is, “ten days or so, probably.”

I let out a sigh I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Thanks, Finnick.”

“And thanks to whoever paid for this. We owe you one.”

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Four more days pass. By my count it is the seventeenth day of the Games. Unprecedented. And I am getting tired of fish, blackberries, and buffalo jerky. Finnick hasn’t sent anything since the drops for the water. In fairness, I can’t remember any Hunger Games lasting this long. I can’t imagine the price of a bag of crackers, let alone some cream cheese rolls. It’s a good thing we don’t need medicine or anything crazy like that.

Fires are becoming commonplace. Every day we see three or four scattered around the arena, never in the same place twice. I think we all have the same idea: lure the others to us, fight them on home soil. It’s weird to think of the little patch of trees and the cave as our home, but I’ve grown quite attached to this place.

The next day we hear shouting on the plain, but never a cannon.

“I wonder what the people at home said about us,” I say that night as we put out the fire and gather the coals in our pot.

“All good things I’m sure,” Mako says. “I’m more curious who they talked to. Our parents, obviously.”

“Jade and Coral.”

“The fishing crews.” He laughs. “Can you imagine old Reefer on every screen in Panem?”

I snort. “Maybe they got him and Rizz at the same time.”

“And both drunk, if we’re lucky.”

Still chuckling, I crawl into the sleeping bag and drift off.

The night is uneventful. Mako says that a few buffalo have been wandering around the trees when he wakes me, but nothing worth worrying about. They’ve always left us alone in the past.

My watch passes just as quietly. In the morning there are several sets of hoofprints on the shore and around our fire pit area.

Mako rebuilds the fire, then wades out into the river until he’s up to his knees. We’ve had more luck spearfishing than regular fishing.

“I think I’ll go get more firewood,” I call, already heading into the trees.

“Sounds good. Don’t go too far.”

“I won’t.”

I wander through the trees. We’ve picked the area clean of fallen branches, so we actually have to cut firewood now, which is difficult with only a knife. But the work is better than staring at the fire all day.

I am on my way back to the shore with an armload of firewood and a precarious grip on my spear when I notice how quiet it is. How quiet it has been. It’s been several minutes since I heard any birds. I walk around the blackberry patch on the edge of the trees. The branches fall softly to the ground. I open my mouth, but the only sound is the sword slicing through Mako’s neck.

****

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

NEXT CHAPTER

Tag List:

@avoxrising @snow-dragon-rider

#wrey writes #the hunger games #thg: tiger shark #annie cresta #canon typical violence #character death #brownie points if you caught the foreshadowing or figure it out upon rereading #it was accidental

4 notes · View notes

youarestellarverse · 2 years

Text

[image description: a purple banner that has the words “work in progress” on it. end of description]

I think maybe I need another sideblog for this, lol. It's turning into a monster.

Epistolary/fake reddit post take 3: Ruby/"Pearl", in her own words.

Originally posted here by u/princess_and_the_pearl on r/relationshipgoals:

Princess And The Sweatpants

(or, Prince Charming Magically Transforms a Sick Day into a Spa Retreat)

Bear with me. Brain fog is a hell of a drug.

I (26NB) was diagnosed with fibromyalgia two years ago after about six months of symptoms, which was astonishingly fast for anyone and downright miraculous considering that at the time, I still thought I was a cis man, and I presented very much that way. There are people who don't believe that's even possible. Several doctors have questioned my diagnosis, asking suspiciously isn't that only in women?

Strangely, when I'm wearing a dress, they don't do that.

Anyway, I have fibromyalgia, which means I constantly feel like I did that time in high school after I played a football game while actively suffering from acute appendicitis (it burst within forty seconds of me getting on the field, because duh, and I almost died— thanks, Dad, for making me play when I had a fever of 104 and I was telling you I felt like someone was spearing me through the back— but that's another story.)

Feverish, sore everywhere, sick to my stomach, like my skin is bruised. The worst part is the fatigue. I get so tired during flares that I can sleep 14 hours a day and wake up exhausted. The only other time I've felt like this was when I was sixteen and fighting off sepsis.

I bring up football mostly because I look like a football player. I was a heavyweight before I got my diagnosis (though I've dropped a lot; my MIL keeps "just happening to be in the neighborhood"— two hours away, mind— with baked goods and stuff). I'm close enough to 6'6 to round up to it if I wanted. I have been told I have the rugged, thoughtful face of a stern, ancient Roman politician. I wear shoes so big that half the time they don't even make them in men's sizes.

And most of the time, that's fine! I'm okay with it when, as my (genuinely) Dear Husband/Prince Charming (27M) puts it, my "gend-o-meter" is pointed towards guy, which is still more often than not.

But it gets to me otherwise, which Charming knows. He also has this very eerie ability to tell where that meter is pointed without asking me. He says it's something about my posture, but he's not sure exactly what. All I know is he's never wrong, and he always knows the best time to pop his head around the corner, smile his sweet smile, say "Hey, babe, guess what?" and then burst into a corny pop song.

[Relevant comment from PC himself:

girl you got my heart racing in your skin-tight jeans~ 🥰😍😚💙💙]

Last week (midsummer for posterity), I was having a hell of a time with a rash of thunderstorms. Everything hurt so badly I could barely think straight. It was like every injury I'd ever had was fresh again, and being a football player, I've gotten banged up a lot. I had five migraines over the span of eight days. I lost a scary amount of weight because I could barely keep anything down.

Eventually my BFFs (we'll call them BFFa, 26F, and, BFF1, 25M, because I don't want to rank them against each other) came out and stayed over the weekend. They made an enormous batch of corn chowder, which was so good it overrode my nausea and lack of appetite and was all I could manage for about 3 days straight. (It's really excellent chowder.)

I'm glad they were here, because I've never had gender dysphoria come on in the middle of a flare before, and I freaked Charming out pretty good when I got halfway through my food and suddenly had enough energy to burst into tears. BFFa is very calming and good at talking people through things, and she helped me articulate while making sure my husband didn't panic. BFF1 isn't as comfortable with emotional displays, but he makes a damn good rice pudding and it's really hard to stay upset when the house smells so nice.

DH, anxiety managed, was able to throw himself into planning mode. He started by calling our mastiff (5F) and having her lay with me while he drew a bath (she's allowed on the bed after a specific command; she was already trained as a service dog when we inherited her, which was incredibly lucky for me because I realized I needed one about a month later).

He's helped me take care of myself before. I quit football because of an injury that destroyed my mobility, and for about three months I was completely reliant on him for almost everything. He helped me stand up to pee. I can't ever pay him back for what he's done for me, but he says the same thing, so we must be even in his mind.

He's always been sweet about it, but he really went all out this time: he lit dozens of beeswax candles, put rose oil and floated petals in the bathwater, set up the shower stall with my chair and a rose-vanilla shower bomb, and hooked up my iPod to the bathroom speakers so he could shuffle through my playlist of all the love songs he's ever sung me.

Then he got me out of my depressed college student chic (the aforementioned sweatpants and my alma mater's t-shirt), helped me into a silk robe that didn't hurt my skin, and supported my weight as we walked.

He got me settled in the shower chair, then stripped and joined me. I didn't have to lift a finger, which was good, because I couldn't without my shoulder seizing up. (He took care of that, too. He's the only person willing to massage me hard enough that I can actually feel it. Everyone else gets too worried about hurting me. Ha.)

After I was clean, he brought out a razor. That man shaved my legs for me, and I have a lot of leg, so that's no small feat.

I'm honestly not sure if I was crying. I think I must have been, because he kept kissing my knees and ankles every time he finished a pass. He sang along with the playlist, too. When you smile, the whole world stops and stares for a while. I got sunshine on a cloudy day. I don't know why you're being shy. I think you're pretty without any makeup on.

...yeah, in retrospect, I was definitely crying.

I felt so much better it didn't matter. He washed my hair, then helped me into the bath and knelt beside the tub and rubbed my neck while I soaked and let the water support my joints.

Let me tell you: if you've got a partner suffering from chronic pain, this is one of the best ways you can make them feel pampered and loved. 100/10; do recommend.

And that wasn't even the end of it.

While we were in the bathroom, BFFa was going through my wardrobe. Charming helped me back into the robe, and when I got back to our room she'd changed out the sheets and set out my softest, most comfortable cotton maxi dress.

It's very pretty. I made it out of fabric my husband's best man (28M) whipped up for me with fiber from his partner's cashmere goats. He used blue potato peels for dye, which gives it a beautiful muted color that transitions from blue to pink via clever use of anthocyanin reactions.

He also dyed some cashmere yarn to match it, which I found out when my baby SIL (minor) gave me a gorgeous crocheted shawl for Christmas last year. It was laid out beside the dress, which was perfect, because one of my symptoms is that I can't regulate my body temperature very well; having it available to take off and put on as-needed was great.

It felt wonderful on my skin. They got me settled in bed again, our dog in her own bed on the floor (still tall enough for me to scratch her ears 💜). Then they facetimed Prince Charming's gf (29F, she's also married to my drag mother), and she walked him through putting on my makeup and styling my hair into a pixie.

I honestly never thought it possible that I could feel cute and pretty with short hair. That's part of why I was upset. When my head hurts like that, wearing a wig is asking to end up in the hospital with an intractable migraine, and my face is so angular that without long hair to soften it, the image can be really jarring.

(That was how I figured out I was nonbinary, actually. I was rehearsing a drag routine and I just felt Wrong and I couldn't figure out why, until my girlfriend (26F) suggested I try practicing in my wig and I saw myself in the mirror and suddenly it clicked.)

Somehow, he pulled it off. It might partly have been the flower hair clip that BFF1 made me with a soldering iron and some copper wire. Most of it was my face. I had no idea DH knew how to contour, but I looked...soft. Feminine. I felt like a queen.

Not that he's ever failed to make me feel like one before, but this time, he really outdid himself. I looked how I felt. That's not an easy feat for me in this context. He pulled it off flawlessly.

It was also just fun, and after such high pain levels I needed fun almost more than I needed validation.

NOTES: good fucking lord tumblr what have you done with your post editor it took me literally almost half an hour to get it all indented why is there a "character limit" on indentations now

BFF1 and BFFa are of course Piper and Leo, Prince Charming is Percy, Percy's girlfriend is Silena (married to Charlie ofc), Ruby's girlfriend is Annabeth, Percy's best man is Grover; if you read the other posts in this genre, you possibly get the idea. I know, I know, it's getting convoluted.

PING LIST: @perseusjackson-jasongrace @elaborateruses @starlightshadowsworld (lmk if you want me to stop pinging you in Ruby stuff, I'm sort of assuming lol.)

As always, let me know if you want in on (or off of) the ping list!

#nonbinary!jason grace #jercy #i wrote this #epistolary fic #sometimes a girl just needs to process both her chronic illness and her nonbinary feels at the same time #stellarverse

8 notes · View notes

greatwyrmgold · 2 years

Text

I’ve been kinda obsessed with HoloCure lately (as indicated by my character guides and general-advice guide), and I’m trying to burn that obsession out by writing about it. And today what I’m writing about is weapon collabs.

For those who don’t play HoloCure: Like in Vampire Survivors and some games you’ve probably never heard of, your Vtuber of choice runs around with a bunch of weapons going off at predetermined intervals. You can collect up to six weapons at a time; “collab weapons” are what this game calls weapons you make by combining two other weapons. Two weapons are turned into a weapon about as strong as its components combined, if not stronger, freeing up a weapon slot. This greatly increases your DPS beyond what you could without collab weapons.

Unsurprisingly, picking the right weapons for your build (especially if you’re playing Endless Mode) is in large part a matter of picking the right collab material. This isn’t just because different characters work better with some collab weapons than others, though that is often the case. (Dragonfire isn’t a great choice for Calli, for instance, but Breathe-In-Type Asacoco mostly falls within The Rapper’s radius.)

One of your six weapon slots is always taken up by your starting weapon (which can’t be collab’d), and you need two free weapon slots to make a new collab (obviously). So at maximum, you can have your starting weapon, four collab weapons, and one weapon picked up after making the last collab. But if you don’t pick your collabs carefully, you’ll end up one collab short of that ideal, with three collabs and one ordinary weapon filling the slot. Unless that collab suits your character really badly and the ordinary weapon suits it really well, this is a serious downgrade—and I can’t think of any practical cases where the really good ordinary weapon wouldn’t have been made into a good collab weapon.

There are ten weapons, which can be combined into eight collab weapons, since most pairs don’t have collabs. (That would be a stupid amount of work. Stupid cool, but stupid.) You might initially there would be a whole lot of potential builds you could put together—maybe not the full 1,680 plus slot-filler that a naive number-crunching suggests, but a lot.

There are nine.

(Technically 36 if you count the slot-filler, but once you have an awakened starting weapon and four collab weapons, even the best ordinary weapon for your character isn’t going to change much. And the four or five best weapons for your character are probably components of the best collab loadout,)

The reason for this is pretty straightforward, and has to do with how the collabs are laid out. Let me show you a simple diagram:

As you can see, each weapon has at most two collab options, and four of the ten have only one. If you pick up one of the four “end-point” weapons, you either need to make its one collab or reduce your long-term combat efficiency. For an example, look at this four-collab build:

Pretty simple. But if you want the MiComet and Breathe-In Asacoco (this is a weird game)…

...you can no longer make a fourth collab. There are other ways to screw up your collab

As it happens, the four end-point weapons are build-important in some key ways!

The Cutting Board is unique how it covers the user’s “back,” and has character-specific buffs for a couple of characters whose starting weapons are very front-focused.

The Idol Song uniquely fires vertical projectiles. It’s an important weapon in any build with strong horizontal-only weapons (like Amelia’s gun or IRyS’s blast)…especially when fighting Fubuzilla, who has a really strong horizontal-only weapon.

The BL Book and Spider Cooking are by far the best short-ranged “defensive” weapons in the game. This obviously comes at the expense of range, but characters who need short-ranged defensive weapons don’t care about range.

This makes the restrictive collab options feel like a deliberate design choice. “You want the Idol Song? Well, either you can’t get the Light Beam, or the Idol Song is your last weapon. Take your pick.” But it’s a design choice that I don’t like, at least in the context of the current arsenal.

I feel like there’s really only one viable build for a lot of characters. To an extent, that’s inevitable; for instance, Sana is always going to want all the area-type weapons. But I feel like the current armory is more restrictive than it should be.

And some collab weapons get underused specifically because of this issue. I’m thinking specifically of the MiComet—if you make it, you need to also make the Flattening Board, Dragonfire, and Idol Concert, and can’t pick up Spider Cooking or BL Book until basically the end of the game.

There are two ways to fix this (by which I mean “make the design more like what I want it to be”). One is to just increase the number of weapons; 15 ordinary weapons and a dozen collabs between them would increase the possibility space enough that I wouldn’t feel like I had to pick up weapon X just because it filled the empty space in my build. But increasing the armory’s size by 50% would require a lot of coding, a lot of new assets, and a lot of Q&A.

I think that just adding one or two new collabs among existing weapons would loosen up the possibility space enough to remove this (subjective) problem. There would still be constraints on possible builds, tricky choices to make, but you wouldn’t be thinking “Oh I want the BL Book, guess I need to pick up the Psycho Axe too, ugh”.

Of course, not all pairs of weapons would broaden the possibilities equally. For instance, a Holo Bomb/Elite Lava collab would only add one new set of four possible collabs, while a BL Book/Idol Concert collab would add six. And while that example sounds random, I think there’s actually potential in it!

For those who aren’t familiar with Hololive and are reading this anyways (probably because they followed my Tumblr for something unrelated): Hololive is a group of VTubers, originally called “virtual idols”. And while some of them have the voices of angels, as time went on, fewer and fewer kept up an act of angelic purity. The contrast between the seiso and yabai sides of each “idol” is often a large part of the appeal.

The Idol Concert weapon is, obviously, the most idol-ish weapon in the game, and I don’t expect that to change. On the other hand, the BL Book is the most yabai-ish, especially given its association to Houshou Marine (probably the least idol-like VTuber in a group that includes a Lovecraftian high priestess, a long-eared war criminal, and a literal clown).

Some sort of yin-yang bomb, composed of both extreme seiso and extreme un-seiso, seems like a plausible collab weapon to me. Certainly moreso than other collabs between “end-point” weapons. (You could probably figure out something with Spider Cooking and Cutting Board, if you ignored their in-joke aspects and focused on the fact that cutting boards are used for preparing food, but…why would you want to ignore the in-jokes?)

Anyways…the wiki has a list of all nine currently-possible combinations of four collabs. Look it up, consider which ordinary weapons your character needs in the short term, and figure something out. This isn’t tagged as a guide, I just have no idea what kind of conclusion I should write.

#holocure #random thoughts #hololive #hololive meta #I probably wouldn't be as salty if I didn't keep forgetting that Idol Concert and Fan Beam didn't have a collab with each other

3 notes · View notes

didiowen · 2 years

Text

A Belated Love Letter to Steven Gerrard, the Captain Fantastic

Anfield has always been a sea of red whenever Liverpool plays. Initially chasing a one-point gap between the Premier League leaders Manchester City, the Reds saw a disappointing 1-1 draw against Tottenham Hotspurs on May 8th, their title hope dampened with only three games remaining. It had taken three long, agonising decades for a historical club like Liverpool, which had won the 18 top-flight championships and crowned as the best in Europe six times, to claim another top-division glory, which was also their first Premier League title, in 2020. They came so close in the previous season, amassing a total of 97 points that would easily clinch the title in any other season had it not been Pep Guardiola’s invincible City that collected one point more. When the Reds finally won the league in 2020, their captain Jordon Henderson, who took over the armband after Steven Gerrard’s departure in 2015, paid tribute to his predecessor by saying that, “No one can replace Steven Gerrard at this club. I was devastated in 2014 that we couldn’t get over the line for him. This one is quite personal for me and to do it for him is quite big.”

Of all people, Gerrard should know the best how missing out on such a close margin felt like. That near miss in 2014 still haunted Gerrard as much as it had haunted Henderson, for it was he who made an irreparable slip that allowed fellow title-contenders Chelsea to extend their lead and cost their title dream in the end. Earlier that season when they had beaten tough opponents like Arsenal, Manchester United, and Manchester City in a stylish fashion, the trophy seemed just within reach.

“It was the toughest moment of my career by a mile,” says Gerrard. It feels strange to meet Gerrard in Birmingham but not in Liverpool, since he is now the manager of Aston Villa, leading them out of the relegation zone. He ordered a pint of Birmingham’s signature Bathams Bitter for me at the Villa Park hospitality, yet his figure is perfectly kept as if he could still step out onto the grass court and play.

“At the end of the game, I just wanted to be under the ground. When we left Anfield, I was in the back of the car. We were on the way home and the tears were rolling down my face. It was killing me. I had that feeling you get when you’ve lost a family member, that’s how bad it felt. The tears kept coming. I was 33 years old and I hadn’t cried for years.

“There’s not a day that doesn’t go by that I don’t think about what if that didn’t happen. Would things have turned out different? Maybe it might of, I don’t know.” Despite winning the Champions League, the UEFA Cup, three League Cups and two FA Cups for the Reds, the Premier League trophy was Gerrard and every Red’s ultimate dream and deepest regret. In 2014 they missed out on the title by two points, in 2009 by four, and in 2002, seven.

Yes, Gerrard had been around for that long. He had been with the club’s youth academy since the age of eight and made his senior debut in 1998 as a late substitute against Blackburn Rovers, the same year in which his fellow academy graduate Michael Owen established himself as an international superstar at the World Cup in France. In 1998 there were no wrinkles on Gerrard’s forehead, and he was outshone by Owen. In his 17-year-long allegiance to the club and especially those three second-best seasons, people remember the goals galore scored by the wunderkind Michael Owen, ‘El Niño’ Fernando Torres, the buck-teethed Luis Suárez, and perhaps their latest home-grown goal-scoring machine Raheem Sterling, but it was Gerrard who had telepathic connections to these strikers and wingers and struck incredibly precise long-ranged balls for them to put into the back of the net.

(I for one was a fan who hadn’t appreciated his presence enough; I’ve bought jerseys of Owen, Torres, Suárez, Coutinho ‘the Little Magician’, and even defensive midfielder Dietmar Hamann, whom I liked simply because his last name resembles Tim Henman, my all-time favourite sportsman on Earth and another tragic hero who had been carrying Great Britain’s hope of winning the first Wimbledon men’s singles title since 1936, only to be defeated by the subsequent champion in four semi-finals, but not Gerrard until the very end of his career – and it was even an away shirt!)

Sadly, those premium strikers and wingers eventually left Liverpool for more money or trophies elsewhere; Michael Owen left for Real Madrid in 2004, Fernando Torres for Chelsea in 2011, Luis Suárez and Philippe Coutinho for Barcelona (Suárez may be exempted because his wife’s family lived there) in 2014 and 2018 respectively, and Raheem Sterling for Manchester City in 2015 (this greedy kid was simply unforgivable). Some of them did enjoy the success they longed for, while others failed to get enough minutes on the pitch as they would have liked to. Loyalty has become a rare virtue in modern money-driven football and Gerrard was among one of those endangered one-club players like Francesco Totti and Paolo Maldini.

“There’s so much money in football now, because of the television deals, and it seems to be getting worse,” Gerrard says, as hand raised pork pies and apple chutney were being brought to our table, epitomizing the Midlands’ native produce. “I think we’ll see players moving an awful lot more, because agents will always push for the next move. My own focus has always been football. It’s something my mum and dad handed down to me – the idea that you should just be the best you can be and everything else will take care of itself. You avoid becoming greedy. You concentrate on becoming a good footballer, rather than a personality or a brand.”

Rolling back the clock to December 11, 2021, the Kop welcomed their legendary ex-captain back five and a half years after his departure, this time as an opponent, giving him an emotional standing ovation before kick-off, although their reigning Egyptian King Mo Salah sealed the game off mercilessly with a converted spot kick. After the 1-0 defeat at Anfield, Owen, now a TV pundit, asked Gerrard in the post-match interview: “I must admit I hated going back to Anfield to play – what were your emotions?”

youtube

“If I played for Manchester United, I'd hate coming back here!” replied Gerrard with a wry smile, scorning his former best friend’s infamous transfer to their archrival.

Watching these two of my childhood heroes standing side by side in front of the camera again, it was as if they were their energising, captivating coming-of-age selves again in the treble-winning season of 2001. At that time, it was the young, lightning-quick Owen who tore apart defenses easily, who received the Premier League’s golden boot twice by the age of 19, who single-handedly turned against the tides against the mighty Arsenal in the FA Cup final, and who won the Ballon d’Or at 22, younger than either Cristiano Ronaldo or Lionel Messi, that made me a faithful Liverpool fan, an admiration shared by Man City’s key playmaker, Kevin De Bruyne (it was such a pity that Liverpool couldn’t afford to buy him). After securing a League Cup trophy against archrival Manchester United with both of their names on the scoresheet in 2003, Gerrard was named captain in the following season, but a trophyless 2003-2004 campaign saw transfer rumours speculating again whether the gems of Anfield would be lured elsewhere. Owen once said that it would be a catastrophe if Gerrard left Anfield, but he it was who eventually left for the Bernabéu in the summer of 2004.

“I just assumed we were going all the way to the top together,” Gerrard rues, “It was always me and him.”

“It’s the lure of going and winning, being what you’ve always wanted to be, growing up,” explained Owen, “If I say no, I’ll probably think what would that have been like for the rest of my life. I’ve just got to try it.” But his teammate Jamie Carragher disagreed. “I was in the room with Mike when he got the call, and my first words were, ‘I wouldn’t go.’ I was always a big-picture person, like, ‘How will people see you at the end?’ I can get it. You may want to play with the greatest players in the world, but it’ll create a divide that may not be able to be ever healed.

“Is it worth it for that?” Carragher asked.

Despite Owen’s wish for a return to Anfield after an unsuccessful spell in the Spanish capital, he joined Newcastle United on a four-year deal instead, and then went on to join United in 2009. “I have to be honest and say I was very surprised he chose to sign for Manchester United,” laments Gerrard. “Michael enjoyed legendary status at Liverpool but that has been diluted because of the move he made. Only Michael knows if he got that decision right.”

The dessert was poached pear with stilton and frosted pecans, another dish that celebrated the Midlands on a plate, and it tasted divine. After Owen’s departure, it was left to Gerrard to carry the entire city’s passion and expectations on his shoulders alone, maturing into an all-rounder who can tackle, pass, and, more importantly, score goals that mattered. “Liverpool captains always deliver. They have to,” says Gerrard. The following season saw Gerrard taking Liverpool to the summit of Europe, first by sending them into the round of 16 through a “stunning half-volley, speared majestically from the edge of the area,” according to The Guardian, the very goal that they needed to qualify.

“I'd be a liar if I didn't say I thought we were down and out at the break. They were spoiling the game and were strong defensively, so there was a mountain to climb at half-time,” Gerrard admits.

And then there came the ‘Miracle of Istanbul’, the night which Liverpool staged a remarkable comeback after being destroyed by an impeccable AC Milan side well before half time. “We’d punched way above our weight to get there, but we had 45 minutes to try and get some pride back. And I think the fans, at least, deserved that. So I felt that responsibility. It’s up to me,” recalls Gerrard.

When Gerrard’s header did pull one goal back, he did this urging hand gestures to his teammates and the travelling fans, begging them to believe that it was not just a consolation, and soon they scored two more within a six-minute stretch, defended heroically until the end of extra time, and finally got the better of Milan in the penalty shoot-out.

“We went as crazy as you would expect. We yelled and danced and ran around like idiots. I look back now in amazement. Was that really me? I celebrated like I deserved to celebrate. Correct me if I’m wrong, but have you ever seen a better Champions League final? Every single one of Milan’s players was either world class or very close to it. They were a better team than us, but we beat them.

“It was not just luck. The big moments in the second half went our way but, after we got back to the dressing room, I saw how much we had given. There were cuts everywhere, bruises, ice, bandages, sweat, dirt and plenty of tears. It looked like we had been to war,” Gerrard smiles. We finished the dessert with a shot of espresso and ordered another round of bitter.

But inside Gerrard’s born-and-bred red heart, there had been times of temptations. When big money was pumped into the business and Russian oligarch Roman Abramovich took over West London-based club Chelsea, buying whichever player he wanted at whatever price, to end the barren spell of first-division title at Liverpool became even more challenging. “My natural instinct is to always defend the club, but there was a part of me that knew that we weren’t good enough. How am I gonna win these Leagues and Champions Leagues?” Gerrard confesses. Moreover, Chelsea’s manager at that time, José Mourinho ‘The Special One’, had been showing great admiration to Gerrard and desperate to bring him in, whereas Stevie was feeling not appreciated enough by his Spanish manager Rafael Benítez. Six weeks after he had brought the fifth European Cup glory back to Merseyside, he submitted a transfer request that shocked the red half of city. The Kopites felt betrayed and burned the shirts bearing his name in front of TV cameras. “Whatever the reason … Chelsea? The bastard son of modern football. Why would a Huyton lad, Liverpool Football Club to the heart, want to go there?” asked Gareth Roberts, editor of The Anfield Wrap magazine.

“My dad asked me a simple question: ‘Would it mean more to you to win two or three trophies with Liverpool than double that number with Chelsea?’ I wasn’t thinking about Chelsea then. I was thinking only of Liverpool. Dad understood,” Gerrard recalls.

“He said to me, ‘You can’t change what you are, the way you’ve been brought up. You’re a Scouser. These fans adore you. You’re everything to them. You’re their hope and their dreams every single day. Liverpool’s in your heart. Forget what’s in your head. If Chelsea are in your head, that’s just a noise. Remember where you’re from. Remember who made you. Don’t walk away from the club that you love.’

“I think there’s a lot of people in the game that believe I made the wrong decision, but they don’t know my feelings. Nine times out of ten, maybe the right thing might have been to go. But I’m not one of the nine. I’m the one. And I never regretted staying at Liverpool my whole career in England.”

John Williams, a witness of the Hillsborough disaster who has been studying soccer as a sociologist for the past 30 years, concluded that “There are lots of ways in which people could say that Steven Gerrard’s career is not measured up to what a player of his talent ought to have had. I think he’d have to accept that. But the thing that he has, which very few players have, is the deep love and respect of people from the city in which he was born. He is an emotional person, like many people in the city feel themselves to be. So he’s part of that order which says, ‘How I feel is more important than what I win or what I can earn somewhere else’. And that’s a big message.”

Gerrard took a quick glimpse at his watch. It was about time to leave for the training ground. When he decided to bid farewell to his beloved city after giving everything he could and leave for America, the manager at that time, Brendon Rogers, described Gerrard as “a guy who is very much about looking after his people”.

“He’s had a number of opportunities to move to prestigious clubs but Liverpool is his home, he grew up around the corner, this is his place and these are the people he loves. What he’s given to this city, politicians haven’t given to this city. All the work he does for local hospitals and charities goes unheralded. He is a wonderful symbol for the people here and an incredible icon of the club. You see in Barcelona they have the quote ‘more than a club’. You look at Steven Gerrard and he is more than football,” said Rogers.

In the States Gerrard enjoyed a short period of Major League Soccer without the spotlight that he detested, being a ‘Z-lister’ that enabled him to relax with his family, but eventually he returned to Liverpool as coach of the youth academy in 2017. “I’ve had an incredible journey. I’ve had my time. But I still think I’ve got unfinished business, and I want to give back,” said Gerrard when he returned to Liverpool as coach of the youth academy, “I often say to myself, ‘Why do you want to go back into the pressure situation, and why do you want to go through all those emotions?’ But I don’t feel my journey is complete.”

One of the teenagers in the academy who idolised him as a boyhood hero, Trent Alexander-Arnold, was described by Gerrard as a ‘beauty’ and was “driven to fulfill that promise”, eventually emerging as one of the world’s finest full-back, playing an indispensable role in the Red’s Champions League and Premier League title-winning team with his precise assists and sensational free-kicks, carrying on Gerrard’s legacy to some extent.

After cutting his managerial teeth at Glasgow and winning the Scottish Premier League with the Rangers in 2020, Gerrard was appointed as successor to Dean Smith at the Villa Park amidst the turmoil left by Villa’s departed captain, Jack Grealish (and yes he went to Man City). Liverpool still have a glimpse of hope for an unprecedented achievement of a Quadruple season. Now that Aston Villa plays two decisive fixtures against Liverpool and City near the end of the title race, I believe many Liverpool fans, including Jamie Carragher and Michael Owen, are thinking about the same thing as I am: Stevie, we’re counting on you.

“We’ll see,” beams Gerrard.

#english writing #liverpool #steven gerrard #football #Youtube

2 notes · View notes

happyyyandcrazyyy · 2 years

Text

secret (sirius black x reader)

summary: (y/n) (y/l/n) has known sirius black since they were kids, being part of the sacred twenty-eight and coming from elitist pureblood families meant that they had shared uncomfortable reunions and awkward dinners for as long as they could remember. once in hogwarts, sirius makes it well known that he’s everything his parents are not and (y/n) is forced to follow into her family’s steps. they shouldn’t be friends, but they are. after all, (y/n) knows him better than he knows himself and sirius is the only one that sees through her façade of a perfect daughter. they are best friends, maybe something more, but it must remain a secret.

warnings: relationship violence (not detailed and only briefly mentioned)

a/n: this fic is my baby, i love her w all my heart.

i. prologue

(Y/N) could only remember pieces of her childhood, fragments buried deep in her mind that when she thought back upon them they brought a smile to her face. She could recall the feeling of the sun hitting her skin, making it warm to the touch. She could remember the sweat that had dripped down her face after running around for hours and how her mother had wiped it off using her pastel green handkerchief, her head shaking in disapproval. She could recall the sweet taste of lemonade that had been prepared by the Malfoy’s house-elf and the smell of blooming flowers. Oh, and how could she ever forget about the piggy tails, those damned piggy tails that had tugged at her scalp but that her mother was adamant she needed to use because they made her look like a “proper little lady”. She could remember running as she played with the other pureblood kids in the enormous backyard of the Malfoy Manor. Well, it would hardly be fair to call it a game, they more so competed with each other (which had almost always resulted in someone crying) but she could only remember the feeling of joy. It had been fun, probably the most fun she had ever been allowed to have.

Faces were mostly a blur, as they usually are when one is young. She could distinctly remember Father’s frown and the tapping of his fingers in the table whenever he was disappointed, a habit that stayed as the years went by. About Mother she could recall her perfectly manicured hands and the way they would thread through her hair at night, roughly pulling at the knots. But, above everything else, she could vividly remember Sirius Black. His grey eyes— one of his most distinctive features and the one thing that hadn’t changed as he grew older —were the one thing she remembered the most. They were strikingly beautiful, always bright with amusement and shining with mischief. Maybe that had been what had lured her in. Or, perhaps, it had something to do with the gentleness and warmth that could be found in those grey eyes, behind layers of playfulness. There was a certain fondness when those eyes looked at her, something she wasn’t accustomed to. Either way, (Y/N) (Y/L/N) found herself becoming close friends with a young Sirius Black, one that was fiercely protective and didn’t hesitate to break rules or push boundaries for her.

(It was to be expected, really. Not only did they spend a vast amount of time together, but he was unlike anything she’d ever known. She’d grown up in a household where love was scarce, surrounded by people that were too focused on obtaining power and money, blinded by their belief that blood purity made them better. Sirius was like a feeling of warmth and gentleness in a world that was frigid and vicious.)

Of course, those days running around the Malfoy manor were long in the past. (Y/N) had enjoyed a very brief childhood because, as soon as she had turned six her mother had decided she was “too old to be acting like a rowdy boy”. Her days of being a kid were over and so the endless period of being groomed into a proper lady, and a perfect pureblood daughter, began.

She was taught to cook and sew. (“Always important qualities in a good wife,” her mother has stated.) She’d just turned six. By the age of seven, she’d mastered the (Y/L/N) poker face, one that people would dare say was almost identical and as perfect as the one her father wore. She learned from her mother how to keep the emotions off her face, how to always appear calm and collected, and how to maintain a soft and sweet tone regardless of any other emotion that she might feel. (Y/N) became an expert at blinking tears away— biting the inside of her cheek to do so —because “crying was the sign of weak woman” and, although she was to be submissive and obedient to the male figures in her life, she needed to portray herself as someone with a forceful personality.

When she was eight her mother hired tutors and (Y/N) found herself learning etiquette and French. A year later her father found her a professor to teach her magic, assuring his daughter would have an advantage over everyone else at Hogwarts. (“Why even try if not to be the best?” he would tell her often. He accepted nothing other than perfection.) Although she didn’t practice incantations— not because of lack of desire from her father’s side but because it was forbidden by the Ministry of Magic —she learned all the theory behind the spells. By the time she was to leave for Hogwarts, she knew all the proper wand movements and pronunciations for basic spells and she already had an exceptional ability to brew complex potions.

Besides her academic studies, her mother continued with her private lessons. She taught (Y/N) many things including how to walk proudly, with a slight trace of arrogance and superiority, giving off an aura of confidence. Most importantly, she taught her the importance of staying quiet and listening. (“Knowledge is power,” her mother had said in a characteristic cold tone. “You should analyze and remember, but never give your own opinion.”)

(Y/N) learned with ease and never questioned a thing, which pleased her parents. They’d created a complaint child, a perfect daughter. Or so they thought. Because, although (Y/N) maintained her outwards appearance of a pureblood elitist, she was slowly suffocating on the inside. She was young but even then she knew there was something wrong with her parent’s beliefs and ideals. She never voiced out her most innermost thoughts, she knew better than to disagree with them. After all, arguments with her parents always ended in harsh words, icy cold glares, and severe punishment.

If it hadn’t been for Quidditch (Y/N) would’ve possibly lost herself to madness. Her mother was all against it. She believed it was barbaric, that no lady should be flying in a broom much less playing such a violent sport. “Quidditch is for men and no daughter of mine will ever play it,” she’d snapped at (Y/N) the first time she ever asked for permission. But, unexpectedly, her father had authorized her to play and, in the end, he had the final word on everything that happened around the house. Her mother had been forced to bite her tongue, swallow her opinions and watch with disdain. (Y/N) had been extremely lucky. The only reason she’d even been allowed to mount a broom had been that her father, in his youth, had been considered one of the best players of his generation. Since she was an only child, and her father had no son, there was no one else but her to carry out his legacy.

Sirius was the only other reason (Y/N) was able to maintain her sanity. They saw each other every couple of weeks when their families would get together for supper and their parents would talk about ‘important Ministry business’. It was only in those moments, alone with Sirius in his room, that (Y/N) felt as if she could truly be herself. They were both very similar in the most unexpected ways, rebels to the very core. The only difference in their defiance laid in the fact that Sirius was very outspoken about it while (Y/N) never uttered a word. He had bravery she could only ever wish to achieve, her instinct of self-preservation was way too strong.

Naively, (Y/N) thought it would always be that way.

Things changed once they both started Hogwarts.

ii. year one

“Be a Slytherin,” her mother said as she arranged the collar of (Y/N)’s shirt for what seemed to be the millionth time. She wasn’t looking directly at (Y/N), too focused on the task at hand, but the girl caught the stern look on her mother’s face anyways. It was a dead giveaway that she wouldn’t like the outcome if she was to be sorted into any other house.

Once she was pleased with the look of (Y/N)’s clothes her mother backed away. Looking directly into her daughter’s eyes, she said, “Befriend other purebloods, this is of most importance as we need to establish alliances and start looking for possible suitors.” Her mother then proceeded to recite a list of last names, forcing her to repeat them from memory.

(Carrow, Crouch, Lestrange, Greengrass, Nott, Malfoy, Mulciber, Rosier…)

Looking up at her, (Y/N) decided not to comment on the fact that she had just turned eleven, that there was still time to look for suitors in the future. She wasn’t in the mood for one of her mother’s scolding.

As she opened her mouth to give her last rule, her features darkened and her mouth curled up in disgust. “Stay away from mudbloods, half-bloods, and blood traitors. Our last name will not be tainted and tarnished because you decide to go around being friendly,” she spat the last word. “If you decide to make friends be sure that they are from the superior blood status.”

(Y/N) swallowed down the burning desire to bicker and nodded her head.

“Go on then,” her mother said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Make your father and I proud.”

She bid her mother goodbye— her father had been too busy at the Ministry to accompany them. The older woman just offered a tight-lipped smile before disapparating.

Sighing, she looked around.

Even surrounded by a bunch of wizarding families, laughter, and smiles, (Y/N) couldn’t help but feel extremely lonely.

It didn’t last long, though. The feeling dissipated the moment she caught a glimpse of an all-familiar black hair and grey eyes. She broke out into a real smile, making her way towards him.

When she was close enough (Y/N) startled him by grabbing him by the shoulders rather roughly.

Sirius turned in surprise, ready to start a fight with whoever the person that had bothered him had been. His face, however, softened as soon as he realized it was just her.

“Hey.”

His eyes were shining with excitement and she couldn’t help but hope she would soon feel the same way. Her mother’s words were too fresh on her mind, her presence still lingered, and so (Y/N) wasn’t able to feel the enthusiasm of going to Hogwarts just yet.

“Hi,” she replied, not saying another word before tugging at him by the elbow.

Confused, he followed behind until they arrived at an empty carriage.

“What is it?” he asked her, noticing the way her face fell slightly once they were away of prying eyes.

“Mum.”

She needn’t say more, Sirius nodded in understatement.

(Y/N) tapped her feet in nervousness, a tick that she would’ve suppressed had it been anyone but him. Then, she asked the question that’d been harboring on the back of her mind.

“What’ll happen if we are sorted into different houses?”

Sirius looked at her in surprise, as if he hadn’t expected those words and didn’t quite know how to respond.

The train whistled in the background, announcing its departure.

She’d been thinking about it for some weeks now. It was a big possibility, especially because she could perceive in him traces of Gryffindor mixed along with those of Slytherin— those he’d gotten from his parent, those she knew he wished he didn’t have. Besides, she knew him well enough to know that, if the possibility arose, he would choose any other house just to anger his family.

“It’ll be fine,” Sirius responded.

But it wouldn’t be.

Not if Sirius went out of his way to rebel against everything the Black family stood for— something he’d hinted he would do once he was out of the grasps of his parents. If Sirius went as far as she knew he was willing to go he would be branded a blood traitor and her parents would never allow her to be even in the proximity of him again.

And (Y/N), well, she couldn’t follow his steps. There was no one other than her to carry the family name, she had no siblings. She didn’t have Sirius’s strength either. Her parents would kill her if she ever stepped out of line or, if they would feeling generous that day, they would resort to banishing and disinheriting her.

Self-consciously, so unlike herself, she asked quietly, “Will we still be friends?”

Sirius laughed as if the question she’d asked was the most ridiculous one he’d ever heard. He reached forward to tap her forehead and still chucking said, “Don’t be daft.”

That lightened the heaviness she was feeling in her chest. Only he could make her relax by being annoying. With an eye roll and a ghost smile, she went on to flick his ear, “Don’t be rude.”

He yelped at her action, rubbing the spot.

“Now, that’s rude.”

She raised her eyebrows, daring at him to retaliate. She knew he wouldn’t do it, not in that moment at least.

She became quiet again, mind going back to her mother’s words.

“My parents will never let me be friends with you if you become a…” she trailed off, not wanting to pronounce the slur.

But he understood perfectly; a blood traitor.

He winced, knowing that she was right. And, despite his parent’s clear instructions to behave, he would most likely become a blood traitor. Sirius had decided, as soon as he’d stepped out of Grimmauld Place, that he would be friends with whoever he wished. He would not judge based on blood status, he wouldn’t be like his parents.

Sirius also knew that (Y/N) would never do anything against what her parents instructed. She had a rebel within her but was far too scared to ever act out. (He would’ve been scared as well if his father had been Mr. (Y/L/N), the man had a way of making adults freeze up in terror with a single look).

Still…

“What your parents don’t know won’t hurt them, will it?” There was a glint of mischief in his eyes. “This friendship is forever, (Y/N). I promise.”

And she believed him because he’d never broken a promise to her. He sounded so confident, so sure, that some of his courage filled her body.

“Okay,” she found herself replying.

In the future, (Y/N) would assert that she was a Slytherin down to her very core and Sirius would remind her of this exact moment. Unbeknownst to her, she’d shown Gryffindor bravery. For the first time in her life, she agreed to something that her parents would’ve never allowed; she swore to remain friends with Sirius Black, no matter what.

It worked out brilliantly mainly because they shared a collective brain cell (one that (Y/N) had the majority of the time).

“Just follow my lead,” he’d told her.

And she had.

It resulted in them never addressing each other in public. It was best if her parents thought they’d drifted apart due to their ‘difference in beliefs’. The decision saved (Y/N) from a long, most likely nasty and disapproving, letter from her mother. It was also pertinent that they were never seen together because the pureblood community was tight-knit— everyone knew everyone and everyone talked about the things they saw or heard around —and her mother would’ve found out about their friendship in the blink of an eye. This pretended estrangement also helped Sirius’s image; he was someone that stood against everything his parents were and believed in (and that included Slytherins).

His first letter arrived on the first Friday of the term. She found it within the pages of her Charms book, neatly tucked. The handwriting was messy, too familiar.

10:30. Astronomy Tower. Tomorrow.

They would meet every Saturday night, every time in a different place to avoid getting caught, and they would talk about everything that had happened over the week.

It was halfway through the first term that Sirius’s friends became curious, maybe a little suspicious, of the reason he would slip away at night once every week. James tried to ask, but Sirius had only shrugged off the question resulting in a pouting James Potter.

With time Sirius gained the reputation of being quite the prankster. His friends and him, the self-proclaimed ‘Marauders’, would roam around the school causing mayhem as they went. She, on the other hand, followed into her family’s footsteps flawlessly. She would eventually earn the title of ‘Ice Princess’ derived from her cold and reserved attitude towards everyone (perhaps except her closest friends), the impassive look she wore at all times (as if she was bored and had much better things to do) and her renowned last name (which made her part of the pureblood royalty).

They were both good at selling their façade (him of a rebellious boy and her of an elitist girl) that the mere idea of them getting along would’ve been hilarious to anyone. No one ever suspected that throughout the school year— and all the years after their first one at Hogwarts —Sirius Black, who was always very vocal about loathing Slytherin, hung out with a girl that belonged to the ‘enemy’ house, one that seemed to be the epitome of pureblood supremacist. They never would’ve guessed that (Y/N) (Y/L/N) broke into laughter once a week with her best friend, a guy who stood against everything she was supposed to stand for.

iii. year five

They’d been at Hogwarts for almost four years now and there hadn’t been a single time they’d interacted with each other in front of anyone else. Her parents, who’d voiced their displeasure about the oldest Black, remained oblivious to their daughter’s secret meetings with him.

“I’ll be catching the Snitch before your other best friend has the chance to blink.”

He chuckled, leaning against the wall. “Jealous of my friendship with Prongs, are you?” He mocked, eyes glinting the way they always did when he was messing around with her.

Slytherin was playing against Gryffindor for the Quidditch Cup and the tension had been brewing and increasing for the last couple of weeks. The hostility, which was standard between the two houses, has turned into taunting and hassling. Fights broke out in the corridors, students were hexing each other (tongues were being turned into horns, someone had ended with their feet stuck to the second floor’s corridor for over two hours) and every Professor was begging for this to be over (even McGonagall, who was passionate about Quidditch, thought that things were getting out out hand).

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, leaning back against the wall. “You wish.” She crossed her eyes over her chest, not backing away as she taunted, “I’m just saying I’m a much more talented Seeker than Potter.”

“Wanna bet on that?”

Sirius knew (Y/N) was a tremendous Quidditch player. She’d played two years as a Chaser, being the highest scoring player at the end of both seasons, and the following two seasons (including the current one) she’d played as a Seeker, a position in which she also excelled at. By the end of their fourth year, she’d replaced Emma Vanity as team captain, becoming one of the youngest captains Hogwarts had ever had. (Y/N) was agile and fast, never afraid to get her elbows out and be rough if needed. She had her father’s talent, she was perhaps even more talented than him. Nevertheless, James Potter was also a terrific player, and if there was someone who stood a chance at beating her it was him.

“Winner gets 10 Galleons,” he incentivized, raising his eyebrows.

“And the loser owes the winner a favor,” she threw back at him, cocking her head to the side, daring him to back off.

That made him hesitate, if only a little. He knew he did not want to be in debt with her (he’d learned it the hard way) but in the end, he was a Gryffindor for a reason and his pride won the battle. Whistling under his breath, he extended the hand for her to shake.

“You’re on.”

They stayed in the Kitchens for some more time, sipping on the hot chocolate that the house-elves had provided, before bidding each other goodnight and making their way to their respective Common Rooms.

The day of the match (Y/N) mounted her broom and shook away the jitters that always appeared before a game. The only thing on her mind was catching the Snitch.

(She knew that the teasing from Sirius would be endless if she was to lose. She didn’t intend on letting that happen).

“Play nice,” Madame Hooch said, looking from one captain to the other. With a louder tone, she added, “That goes for all of you.” (Y/N) didn’t miss the way her eyes lingered longer on the Slytherin team. She couldn’t blame Madam Hooch for distrusting her team; they played rough, borderline dirty, and they weren’t going to stop now, not when they were playing against their rival house.

The Snitch disappeared as soon as it was released, followed by the two Bludgers.

Sirius, mounted on his broom, sent her a discreet wink that went unnoticed by everyone and mouthed, “May the best man win.”

I’m winning this, was her last thought before the Quaffle went up in the air and the whistle announced the beginning of the game.

It hadn’t been an easy game so far. The Gryffindor offense was lightning quick and the Slytherin defense was being brutal. Both teams were out for blood.

Thirty minutes had passed without a sign of the Snitch.

(Y/N) located herself a little higher than the other players which allowed her to have a better view of the pitch and avoid the Bludgers.

She could barely hear the commentator over the screams of the crowd— they were being loud. It wasn’t just the last game of the year but it was a really close one. It would go down to whoever caught the Snitch.

“Gryffindor scores another goal!” She managed to hear the commentator say as the sea of red and gold went crazy. “Oh, that’s… for a moment there I thought Rosier was going to fall off his broom but he manages to stay up. What a pity, it would’ve been hilarious.”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes and located Rosier. He did look a little bit shaken up and embarrassed.

From where she was situated she had a perfect view of Sirius who was having the time of his life blasting Bludgers directly at her teammates. Today, for whichever reason, he’d seemed to have taken the likes for sending all Bludgers that came his way towards Evan Rosier, which explained their reason the guy had almost fallen off his broom.

Rosier yelled something at Sirius, most likely an obscenity, and Sirius only laughed in response. He thrived on being a nuisance and Rosier’s annoyance would only fuel him to keep going.

A couple of minutes later another Bludger was sent Rosier’s way and this time (Y/N) couldn’t help the snicker that fell from her lips when she saw his surprised expression. The Bludger had missed him by millimeters. She shouldn’t have been entertained by her own teammate’s struggle but (Y/N) wasn’t particularly fond of him. They were acquaintances, due to her mother’s request, but the guy was vile and barely tolerable. The only reason he had even made the team was that he was a very talented Chaser. She disliked the guy, but she also wanted her team to win.

It was only when she turned to look at the other Slytherin Chasers that she caught a glimpse of the unmistakable golden glimmer of the Snitch. Before she could even process her actions she was diving down.

Too focused on not letting the little ball out of her sight, she didn’t notice Potter’s presence by her side until he shoved her with his shoulder.

Clenching her jaw, she shoved him back harder before leaning forward.

The wind was blowing harshly against her face, making her eyes tear up, but the discomfort wasn’t enough to distract her.

Potter went to shove her again but she had anticipated the action. Before he could touch her, she moved aside. He lost his balance and that allowed her to dive down faster, tilting forward to take the golden ball in her hands.

“(Y/L/N) catches the Snitch! Slytherin wins!”

Half of the crowd went mad, while the other half looked seriously disappointed. There were shouts of excitement complimented by some booing.

It didn’t faze her. She smirked as she landed, holding the Snitch high in the air for the crowd to see. The Slytherin stands went crazy as she bowed mockingly, the smirk permanently etched to her face. (She was “a proper show off” when it came to Quidditch as Sirius would kindly point out every time he got the chance).

There were some pats in the back, hugs, and congratulations. (Y/N) was smiling, something unusual for her but then again one doesn’t win the House Cup every day. Once the cheering died down she turned around to look for Sirius, ready to send him a taunting look. She didn’t find her best friend. Instead, she managed to spot Evan Rosier snatching a bat out of the hands of one of the Slytherin Beaters.

Even from afar, she could tell he was fuming in anger. His face was burning red, mainly out of anger. She saw the way his eyes narrowed when he looked to his right. Following his gaze, she realized just who he was glowering at.

Sirius Black.

She didn’t have to keep looking to know what he was about to do.

Her legs started moving before she could even finish processing what she was seeing.

People had made their way down from the stands to congratulate the players so (Y/N) was forced to push past the crowd. She had to make it to Sirius before Rosier.

Potter and Sirius were conversing, both of them appeared to still be buzzing from the adrenaline of the game. Neither of them noticed the tall, raging Slytherin boy that made his way towards them.

Men, honestly.

She arrived just in time to stop the bat that was swinging down, full power, to bash Sirius’s skull.

Her hand immediately started aching but she was too angry to notice the pain. Her eyes were looking up at Rosier with contempt and the older guy cowered slightly at the infamous (Y/L/N) look.

James had looked up just in time to watch her step in. He’d gasped slightly, pulling Sirius out of the way instantly. Both Marauders, now fully conscious of the situation, glanced between the two Slytherins. They waited to see who would strike out first.

No one, other than Potter and Sirius, was paying much attention but (Y/N) found that she wouldn’t have cared if she’d had a whole crowd watching. She was seething, jaw clenched, grip tightening on the bat.

This thick-headed idiot had just brought out a side of her that was usually tamed and under control. He’d tried to injure her best friend and she was not having it.

(Y/N) was usually cold and logical— a think first, act later kind of person —but not right now. No, right now she was acting on primal protective instinct.

They stood that way for a moment; her hand in the bat, eyes filled with hostility towards her teammate and Rosier, who was taller by a couple of inches and certainly bigger, awaiting her reaction.

She pulled the bat away from his hand with ease, tossing it aside. Then, (Y/N) proceeded to push him in the chest with two fingers. He didn’t stumble, but he did back away slightly.

“Are you out of your goddammed mind?!”

He pressed his lips at the tone she was using, one that was cold and unfriendly. He’d never seen her this livid.

Some people turned around to see what was happening, but since (Y/N)’s face was stoic, making it seem like she was just talking with Rosier, they turned away with disinterest, too invested in celebrating or congratulating the players.

“He kept sending Bludgers my way all the fucking game,” Rosier justified with a hiss and she couldn’t help the scoff that left her lips.

What a pathetic excuse.

“He’s a Beater. That’s what he’s supposed to do, you dimwit,” she spat the last words. Her hands were clenched by her side, she was keeping herself from tearing him apart.

He flinched slightly at her tone, not used to this (Y/L/N) at all. She was usually composed and imperturbable.

James Potter was as surprised, if not more. Any other Slytherin would’ve let Rosier crack Sirius’s skull without hesitation. He couldn’t comprehend what had made (Y/L/N) intervene. For the first time, she didn’t seem unbothered. He caught a glimpse behind the mask she wore every day. Something had made her lose her temper and she looked as if she was wondering which way of torture would make Rosier suffer the most. She looked about ready to shove him off the Astronomy Tower.

Rosier’s expression changed as if he had suddenly remembered himself. He pulled a sneer and taunted, “Why do you even care if he gets hurt, (Y/L/N)? Got a little crush of Black?”

That was a cute attempt at trying to provoke her.

Her lip curled up mockingly as she closed her features off. She straightened up, “Listen, asshole, I didn’t get us this far for you to get us disqualified.” Her intention was to push the narrative that this had everything to do with Quidditch and nothing to do with Black. “You have problems, you fix them during the game, you hear?”

Rosier looked away, jaw clenched.

“Anything else?” he asked sarcastically.

She wasn’t in the mood, so she took another jab at him. “Yes,” she walked closer to him, chin raising up in defiance. “If you want to fight after the game make sure the person you’re fighting doesn’t have their back towards you. We Slytherins aren’t cowards.”

Rosier’s expression darkened, but (Y/N) didn’t care. He couldn’t touch her and they both knew it.

“You pull one more stunt like this one and you’re off my team.”

He opened his mouth to complain about the ultimatum but the look she gave him made him shut up. He huffed in irritation before letting out through gritted teeth a small “whatever” and leaving.

(Y/N) glared at his back and if looks could kill he would’ve been dead and buried. She let out a breath, willing the anger to leave her body. When she turned around she was greeted by a gaping James Potter and a smirking Sirius Black.

James must’ve imagined the way the harshness of her glare decreased when she looked at Padfoot because there was no way in hell the Ice Princess had just softened, if ever so slightly, by the sight of Sirius Black. He shook his head to shake out the thoughts, still gaping at her.

“You look ridiculous, Potter,” she deadpanned.

James caught the way she was rubbing her right hand. Although her face didn’t show any pain, the skin was visibly damaged.

When he looked back at her face he found her eyes had hardened and her poker face had made an appearance once again.

Yes, he must’ve imagined the softness in (Y/L/N)’s eyes.

He closed his mouth, still too astounded to retort something sarcastic as he usually would’ve.

She looked between them, sending a brief nod at Sirius, before leaving them to find her team.

A few days later, she met Sirius in an empty classroom by the sixth floor. Her hand was wrapped in a bandage but she couldn’t really feel any pain anymore. (Y/N) was more interested in her 10 Galleons. She was also beaming because now Sirius owed her a favor.

The moment his eyes laid on her a smirk appeared on his face.

“My little firecracker.”

She rolled her eyes, unable to stop the ghost smile from appearing on her lips. He didn’t miss the amusement in her eyes.

“My damsel in distress,” she joked back, snickering at the blank look he gave her.

“Your fight with Rosier was about the most amazing thing I’ve seen all year,” he told her as she made her way towards him. “And, believe me, I’ve seen a lot.” Somehow, she didn’t doubt that.

She shrugged in a halfhearted manner, “Couldn’t let you get killed. Salazar knows you would’ve come back just to annoy me to death.”

“I would’ve,” Sirius agreed. Nudging her with his shoulder, he teased, “But admit it, you would want me to come back. If I died you would miss me too much.”

She scoffed jokingly, “Most certainly not.”

“I think you would,” he replied, taking her hand in his. (Y/N) didn’t comment on his action, letting him trace his thumb over her open palm. “I think you can’t live in a world without me.”

Pulling away, she crossed her arms over her chest, ignoring the heat she felt rush through her body.

“Whatever.”

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, resting his cheek at the top of her head.

“I wouldn’t be able to live in a world without you, either.”

She didn’t know where the vulnerability had come from, but she allowed herself to melt into his embrace.

She reckoned he’d never sounded so sincere.

iv. year six

She’d never sent him a letter before. Sirius was always the one to send the time and the place. But, as she stared down at her mother’s impeccable handwriting, rereading the words, (Y/N) knew that she had to see him. The tension was clawing at her insides, she felt herself growing anxious.

Astronomy tower. 11:30. Tonight.

Hoping that he would show up, (Y/N) slipped out of her Common Room silently.

She walked the corridors with nimbleness, knowing exactly where to hide when she heard footsteps or the hushed voices of the prefects making their rounds.

(The Marauders would’ve been proud).

The place was empty when she arrived and she opted for picking the letter out of her pocket and reading it once more.

Emotions settled at her throat, she bit the inside of her cheek to keep the tears at bay. It wasn’t sadness that she felt, but rather frustration and helplessness.

She stilled when she heard movement.

Quietly, she backed into a corner, fetching her wand from her robes and slowing her breath.

If Filch caught her out of bed, she was done for.

But, it wasn’t Filch.

Sirius appeared out of nowhere, letting the cloak fall behind him.

“You’re an idiot, Black,” she whispered and he turned to meet her. “Someday you’re going to give me a heart attack.”

He grinned, watching as she slipped out of the shadows. “You’ll get used to it.”

She seriously doubted it.

(Y/N) had learned about the invisibility cloak a few months ago. He’d let it slip when talking about one of their pranks and she’d been able to tell by the way his face changed that he had instantly felt guilty, like he had betrayed James’s trust. She’d sworn not to say a word about it and Sirius had relaxed at her words. She’d never broken a promise to him.

After that, he’d used the cloak more often— it was easier for him to slip past people and into secret passageways when hidden from the eye— and this was the fifth time he’d managed to startle her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked as he turned to retrieve the cloak from the floor.

He started to fold it but looked up when she placed a piece of parchment in front of him.

Tentatively, he took it, observing the way she looked away from him and bit her cheek.

(Y/N) walked towards the railing, grasping hard with both of her hands. She looked at the moon. It was close to becoming a waning crescent.

Behind her, Sirius was muttering as he read.

He’d always done that.

“…inform you…”

“you should be pleased…”

“…betrothal.”

His breath hitched.

(Y/N) shut her eyes closed and swallowed hard.

“Oh, love,” he mumbled softly.

With a sigh, she turned around to face him.

“Come here,” he said affectionately when he saw the way her face shifted with frustration.

She allowed herself to be embraced by him. It was the only place she ever felt like home.

“I knew this was coming,” she admitted quietly. It was what her mother had raised her for; to marry her off to a powerful, well-established pureblood family and have her provide heirs. But, even when it was expected, she couldn’t help the rush of disappointment she’d felt. Her parents had always taken away her decision to choose and, had it been anything else, she probably wouldn’t have minded. But her heart belonged to someone now.

It hurt like nothing ever had before.

“It should’ve been us.”

The words were muffled by his shirt but Sirius heard them as clear as day.

Something tightened in his chest and he pulled her closer— she was right, after all. Had he stayed in line and followed his parents’ footsteps he would’ve been the only acceptable suitor in Mr. (Y/L/N)’s eyes. But he hadn’t. And now she would be forced to endure a loveless marriage to appease her parents.

She backed away from him and looked up. He’d expected some sort of resentment in her eyes but there was only melancholy, a wondering of what could’ve been.

“I should’ve done what you did,” she said, looking away. “I should’ve stood up against them.”

She ran a hand through her hair, pressing her lips together.

The feeling of not being in control of her own life rattled her. She loathed it. Lately, she’d been feeling that way more often than not. (Her time at Hogwarts was running out).

He reached out for her, tenderly holding her hand. He searched her eyes before asking in a hushed whisper, “You would’ve married me?”

“In a heartbeat.”

Not even a single ounce of hesitation.

Her heart was his and he’d just found out.

Sirius pulled her closer and she stumbled slightly, her hand pressed against his chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist.

His eyes, those beautiful grey eyes, were filled with melancholia.

If only he’d been obedient.

She moved her hand to try to wipe away the sadness from his features. Desolation didn’t suit Sirius Black.

If only she’d been braver.

He turned to press a kiss to the back of her hand.

If only they could fix it all.

His eyes trailed down to her lips.

“I can’t,” she murmured. “It’ll only make being with Mulciber much harder.”

(It’ll only break my heart much more, she thought.)

But she was oh so close. If he dipped his head, their lips would touch.

“Just gift me one kiss,” he implored into the silence of the night. She could feel his breath delicately caressing her skin. “It might be our first and last.”

Her heart might’ve shattered.

If, if, if.

Maybe time would fix it all.

They could only hope.

She reached to cup his jaw, fingers barely grazing his skin, and she stood on her tippy toes.

Their lips brushed against each other, a tear fell down the side of her cheek.

This might be our first and last.

“No one would ever have a chance to win my heart”, she thought to herself later that night as she laid wide awake in her bed. “Not as long Sirius Black exists.”

Some weeks later Adrian Mulciber found himself being the main target of one of the Marauder’s most wicked pranks.

It did little to ease the aching in Sirius’s heart.

v. year seven

Peter wasn’t athletic, not even a little bit (he struggled to even get on a broom, for Godric’s sake). That, however, didn’t stop him from running all the way from the third-floor corridor to the Great Hall to deliver gossip to his friends.

He placed a hand on the table as he arrived, trying to catch his breath. He was sweating massively and could feel his lungs about to collapse.

“You okay there, Wormtail?” James teased.

Peter gasped before taking a chug of water.

“Mulciber and (Y/L/N) are having a huge fight,” he managed to spit out between gulps of air.

Sirius’s head snapped up immediately, all interest in his food was suddenly gone.

“(Y/L/N)?”

Remus looked at Sirius with confusion, thinking that his question came from not recognizing the last name.

“She’s the Seeker of the Slytherin Quidditch team,” Remus offered only to receive an offhand mumble from Padfoot.

“I know who she is, Moony.”

His whole attention was placed on the smallest Marauder.

“Wormtail, talk.” There was a certain urgency in his tone which Remus thought was quite unusual.

James also noticed because he frowned at his best mate’s tone. He shared a look with Remus who shrugged in response. Prongs was about to question Sirius but Peter started talking and they all immediately gave him their undivided attention (they weren’t gossipmongers, James would say, they liked to be informed).

Wormtail talked about how Mulciber had said some snarky comment at a muggle-born and how (Y/N) had stepped in. That had started the discussion. Then, he’d raised his voice which had caused her to snap back at him.

“That led to the full blast argument they’re having,” Peter finished. The redness was disappearing from his face, he could breathe properly again. “There’s a small crowd watching and—”

Sirius interrupted in an almost frantic manner, “They’re still going at it?”

Peter nodded his head with enthusiasm.

Before he could think Sirius had dropped his fork and was running out of the Great Hall. The Marauders had shared a look of confusion before blasting behind him, too bewildered by his unusual behavior to even question it.

Sirius rushed past people, body on autopilot.

(Y/N) was the only thing on his mind.

He was worried because he knew Adrian Mulciber and he knew what he was capable of doing to anyone who stood in his way. Girlfriend or not, his anger had no limits when he was pushed past a breaking point and, well, Sirius also knew (Y/N) could be hot-tempered when it came to Mulciber.

He reached the corridor in record time. From where he was standing Sirius could hear the heated argument.

He couldn’t see a thing because, just like Wormtail had said, the couple was surrounded by a crowd— one much larger than the one he’d expected but, then again, one doesn’t see these two fighting in public every day. He could, however, hear them clear enough.

“Fine then,” (Y/N) said. Just from the sound of her voice, Sirius could tell that she was more than irritated. “We are over.”

There was a collective gasp.

Sirius pushed past people, not even aware that his friends were following behind (Peter once again gasping for air). He halted when he heard two smacks followed by a pained yelp. It was silent for a split second. Then, commotion.

The sound of people helped him regain the agility to move. He shoved everyone with more urgency, coming to a stop when he viewed the scene in front of him.

Mulciber was being held back by Snape and Lucius, the murderous look in his eyes directed towards the younger girl. (Y/N) sat on the floor, looking back at her now ex-boyfriend. She was completely nonplussed. Her hand was pressed to her cheek, tears brimming in her eyes. The slap must’ve been with a close fist because it’d made her mouth bleed and her cheekbone was swelling.

Sirius made his way towards her, completely ignorant to those who were watching the scene. Fuck them and fuck it if (Y/N)’s parents found out about their relationship; his priority was her.

He kneeled beside her and she immediately leaned towards him, her body reacting to his presence. Softly, Sirius grabbed her head and went to cradle it, pressing it to his chest.

Knowing Sirius was there, holding her, made (Y/N) crumble. Realization of what had just happened sunk in and she whimpered, face hidden from prying eyes between his robes. The shock had prevented her from hurting, but as it went away she found that her injuries were starting to ache.

Sirius pulled away after a second, softly cupping her face, making sure not to touch the wound. He moved a strand of hair from her face, gently caressing her unharmed cheek.

The Marauders were completely astounded, as was everyone else present. No one had ever seen Sirius Black being so tender and caring towards anyone, much less a Slytherin.

Remus tried to look for an explanation but his mind was blank, he just couldn’t comprehend what he was seeing. James, on the other hand, had a flashback to their fifth year. (Y/N) had prevented Sirius from having his brains bashed in by a wooden bat. Her eyes had softened when she’d looked at him. James had many questions.

“I’m okay,” (Y/N) managed to choke out, still dazed by the hit. She bit the inside of her cheek to prevent tears. She refused to cry in front of Mulciber.

Once she’d said those words, once Sirius was sure she was alright, something shifted in his brain. All he could see was red. He was raging and the change in his eyes told (Y/N) just how furious he was.

Not wanting to cause a bigger scene she went to grab his hand, but Sirius was quicker. He stood up and turned around slowly.

Mulciber, who’d just managed to release himself from his friends’ hold, said about the worst thing he could’ve said at the moment.

“Step aside, Black. Let me teach that bitch who owns her.”

Sirius went from furious to downright homicidal.

His whole body felt hot with anger and all he could think about was (Y/N)’s pained expression, the tears in her eyes, the blood trickling down her lips, and the bruise on her pretty face.

He was protective of her by nature.

He snapped.

Before Mulciber could even react Sirius had thrown his fist against his face. There was a loud crack and another collective gasp.

“Fight! Fight! Fight!”

Mulciber composed himself quickly and with a fierce look in his eyes went to throw a punch back at Sirius.

Wands were forgotten. This was personal.

Mulciber managed to strike Sirius, just in the ribs, but the Gryffindor appeared numb to the pain because he didn’t even react. Instead, Sirius threw a left hook to Mulciber’s head followed by a jab directly at his nose.

James and Remus reacted quickly, going to pull their friend away. The look on Sirius’s eyes showed that he was not going to stop until Mulciber was laying on the ground half dead. They’d never seen him this livid before. (For the first time James understood why other people thought of Sirius as intimidating.)

Snape and Malfoy also drew Mulciber back, but he shook them away.

“You have no idea what you just started, Black.” Blood was oozing down his mouth and he spat it on the floor.

Sirius smirked condescendingly, eyes still shining with a murderous glint. He didn’t seem afraid in the slightest. “Bring it on, you disgusting little piece of—”

His sentence was cut off by a booming voice.

“What is the meaning of this?!”

(Y/N) recognized McGonagall’s voice immediately and, for some unknown reason, shied away.

“Mr. Mulciber! Mr. Black!” She sounded indignant like she couldn’t believe they had engaged in a physical fight. “Can either of you explain the means of this?”

The boys were still glowering at each other and neither offered any explanation.

McGonagall was about to say something when she caught a glance of (Y/N).

“Ms. (Y/L/N)!” she exclaimed, quickly making her way towards the Slytherin girl.

With some vacillation (Y/N) allowed the Professor to inspect her injuries. She could see the way Professor McGonagall’s brain began to work. She looked back at the boys and then at her, piecing together what’d happened.

She gave (Y/N) a calculating look, almost as if she was trying to read her mind. That resulted in the student looking away, embarrassed.

“Mr. Lupin if you would be kind enough to escort Ms. (Y/L/N) to the Infirmary.”

Remus was quick to nod his head and he made his way towards (Y/N). Had it been any other situation he might’ve been slightly nervous about touching her, but she allowed him to place an arm around her waist without a single complaint. There was no sneer, no threatening look, she simply placed her arm around his shoulder and leaned in on him, trying to fight away the nauseating feeling created by the pain.

“The rest of you back to your activities.”

The crowd dispersed, but not without throwing looks over their shoulders as they went.

There was just Sirius, James, Mulciber, and Malfoy left behind.

Sirius stared at (Y/N)’s retreating figure, jaw clenching in anger.

He was going to kill Mulciber.

“Fifty points from Slytherin for attacking a fellow student and two months of detention with Mr. Filch for you Adrian.” Mulciber just scoffed and rolled his eyes. The Professor paid him no mind and continued, “Mr. Malfoy if you would please take him to Madam Pomfrey.”

“I don’t need to see her. I’m fine.” Mulciber spat, turning around and pulling Malfoy by the elbow.

McGonagall rolled her eyes at the theatrics before turning back to look at Sirius. She found both him and Potter backing away, trying to escape her wrath.

She had them freezing mid-step with a single stern look.

To James’s surprise, she didn’t look particularly mad.

“Twenty points from Gryffindor.”

Both Marauders could tell that it pained her to take the points away, even if her face remained impassive.

“He laid his hand on her,” Sirius found himself arguing. He couldn’t help it, the adrenaline hadn’t left his body yet and he was still shaking in anger. He shook his head, “I was not going to let that slide.”

The Professor shook her head, sighing.

“I understand why you did it, Black. I do. But there is a no-tolerance policy for physical altercations.”

He opened his mouth, shaking his head in disbelief, but she spoke before he could.

“Professor Dumbledore will be hearing about Adrian Mulciber’s actions and they will not go unpunished.” Noticing the fire in his eyes, she added, “Do not go around playing hero.”

McGonagall gave him a pointed look. She knew him too well.

Sirius pressed his lips to swallow the desire to tell her that he would do it again without hesitation. Looking again, he nodded his head.

“Potter—”

“I will take him to the Infirmary, Professor,” James assured to which McGonagall nodded her head and turned around, possibly to make her way to Dumbledore’s office.

“Pads...” James started but Sirius just shook his head, placing his thumb to his temple and rubbing it in circles. The adrenaline was slowly leaving his body, his ribs had begun aching and he had just gotten a headache.

“Not now.”

And, although James was about to burst with questions, he remained silent all the way to the Infirmary. However, he couldn’t stop himself from sending side-eye glances at his best mate.

James came to a sudden stop when Sirius froze in front of him. Looking over his shoulder he realized Padfoot was looking at (Y/L/N).

Her cheekbone had swollen and it painted her skin a dark purple color. There was also an angry red mark on her cheek, but her mouth wasn’t bleeding anymore.

Madam Pomfrey was tending to her wounds, gently pushing her chin up with her fingers as she inspected the damage. Remus stood to the side, shifting awkwardly on his feet.

They managed to catch the end of their conversation.

“…you’ll probably have a nasty bruise on your cheek for a while but it’ll make the swelling go away.”

She excused herself to look for the potion required.

It was only when she left that (Y/N)’s eyes found them.

“Sirius.”

The words left her mouth as a shaky whimper.

Sirius’s gaze softened immediately, the rage that had previously consumed him was gone in an instant. The gentle look in his eyes made the emotions that she’d pushed to the back of her mind resurface. Shame, embarrassment, pain.

It was suddenly hard to breathe.

Sirius saw her bite the inside of her cheek and he noticed the glazing over of her eyes. He knew she was a second away from breaking down.

He rushed towards her and without even processing it she’d stood from the bed and stumbled into him.

His hand went to cup the back of her head, holding her close.

To Remus’s and James’s astonishment Sirius began to carefully run his fingers through her hair as a way to soothe her.

(Y/N) began crying. Sirius provided comfort and safety and, protected in his embrace, she allowed herself to shatter.

It’d been years since the last time she’d properly cried.

“I’ve got you, love.”

His voice was soft, barely above a mumble. It was a tone that he reserved only for her.

They stayed there for what seemed like forever but probably wasn’t more than a couple of minutes. The sobbing became sniffles and once she’d gathered herself (Y/N) pulled away, wiping away the tears.

“I’m okay,” she told him (or rather told herself). At his unconvinced stare, she reached for his hand and squeezed it, “Truly.”

Remus coughed and it was only then that they remembered they had an audience.

Over her head, Sirius had a perfect look at Moony. He was looking at the pair with curiosity, head slightly tilted to the side as if he was deep in thought. (Y/N), on the other hand, had a perfect view of James Potter. He was gaping, eyes wide. It was obvious his brain wasn’t processing what he was observing.

“You look ridiculous, Potter,” she informed him, voice softer than she probably intended. Upon realizing the lack of bite in her words she guarded herself making some of the gentleness of her face melt away. Still, her eyes weren’t as cold and calculating as they usually would’ve been. She looked exhausted.

Sirius chuckled weakly, moving forward to wrap an arm around (Y/N) and resting his chin at the top of her head.

Knowing he got clingy when worried (Y/N) didn’t put up a fight and accepted his embrace once more.

“I feel like I’m dreaming,” James said. He turned to look at Remus, “Moony is this real?”

Lupin nodded, “Very real, Prongs.” He also looked visibly astounded but was doing a much better job at hiding it.

James crossed his arms over his chest.

“Are you going to explain?” he asked directly at his best mate.

Sirius looked down at (Y/N) and rose his eyebrows. It seemed as if he was asking for permission. They had some sort of mental conversation that ended with the girl shrugging in a ‘go ahead’ manner.

With a sigh, Padfoot adjusted (Y/N) in his arms.

“It’s complicated.”

The Slytherin nodded her head in agreement.

But both James and Remus gave them a pointed look. They had time and they weren’t going to accept that as an answer. They needed to understand. (James really believed his head would explode if someone didn’t make sense of the situation at hand).

Sirius carried on, “We’ve known each other since we were in nappies.”

Now, that was a surprise, especially to James who couldn’t remember ever seeing them together in any of the aristocratic (pureblood) events his family had attended.

“She’s my...” he trailed off, not finding a word that could summarize everything (Y/N) meant to him. Taking a small glance at her, he settled for saying, “She’s my worse half.”

Remus snorted quietly.

(Y/N) clicked her tongue in amusement, letting out an unimpressed and teasing, “Cute.”

It was the first time that either Marauder could remember hearing her talk without her distinctive tone of coldness. In the shadows of the night, with a bruised face and tired eyes, the Ice Princess looked and sounded human.

James looked between the pair, eyes widening when he saw Sirius reach out to place a strand of (Y/N)’s hair behind her ear.

“Are you dating?!”

Both of them shook their heads but Prongs caught the redness in Sirius’s ears. It would’ve gone unnoticed hadn’t he been actively searching for it. Padfoot had an outstanding poker face (he was a Black, after all) but his body gave away what his features didn’t.

James was about to ask something else when they heard footsteps.

Sirius, albeit begrudgingly, dropped his hands from around (Y/N) as he saw the matron making her way towards them. He helped her back into the bed, limping slightly as he walked.

“He hurt you,” (Y/N) stated, looking in his eyes for traces of pain.

“Not as much as I hurt him,” he replied with a weak but self-satisfying smirk. At her unimpressed look and evident worry, Sirius assured her that he was alright.

Neither of them had noticed Madam Pomfrey’s presence until she was handing (Y/N) the potion.

“It will make you extremely lightheaded, Ms. (Y/L/N),” the matron informed her. (Y/N) winced once the smell hit her, it was pungent and acrid. Salazar, she hoped it tasted better than it smelled. “You’ll be staying the night.”

She didn’t bother fighting her. It would’ve been useless. Besides, she wasn’t looking forward to going back to her Common Room. She had to mentally prepare for the upcoming whispers and stares.

As she raised the cup and swallowed down its contents (pinching her nose to prevent herself from throwing up) she caught the way Madam Pomfrey went to touch Sirius’s wounded side. She’d known about his injury without even needing to ask. (Y/N) thought that was rather impressive.

“You’ll be glad to know it’s just a bruise, Black. No broken bones. But it could’ve been much worse,” she reprimanded. “Going around fighting, what were you even thinking?”

Before anyone could answer her, she took a vial from her pocket and handed it to the young Gryffindor, “That will take away the pain.”

Sirius chugged it down in a second.

Looking around the room she seemed to finally notice Lupin and Potter.

“And what are you two still doing here?” she shook her head disapprovingly. “It does not matter, you will be helping Mr. Black back to your Common Room. Make sure he doesn’t get involved in any other altercation.”

"I don’t need to stay for observation?” Sirius asked.

He really didn’t want to leave (Y/N) out of his sight.

“Absolutely not. All you will do is bother Ms. (Y/L/N) and she needs rest.”

Sirius grumbled under his breath.

“Now, out! All three of you!” she ushered them out of the room.

(Y/N) went to grab Sirius’s hand before he could leave.

“Wait.”

The potion was already kicking in and she felt slightly groggy, but (Y/N) had to tell him right now when the emotions were still vivid within her (before she could cower away).

“The offer you made, do you remember?”

Sirius nodded in response.

Of course he remembered, he was still awaiting an answer.

During one of their late-night escapades Sirius had told her that he would be moving into his own apartment as soon as they left Hogwarts, he’d said that he loved the Potters but that he felt as if he was being too much of a burden. And, unexpectedly for her, he’d let her know that she was free to move in with him if she wished. He was giving her a way out of the life that’d been predetermined for her by her parents. He was saying, without words, that if she chose to leave she would always have somewhere to go to. (Y/N) had replied that she would think about it. After all, self-preservation, along with her mother’s teachings, ran deep. Marrying a pureblood wizard and living a miserable life had been her destiny from the moment she’d been conceived and she was scared of making the wrong decision.

Tonight, however, was an insight into what her life would become if she followed her parents’ plans for her life.

She had to get out.

“I’ll do it,” she said as she yawned. “Let’s move in together, fuck them all.”

Sirius couldn’t help the chuckle that slipped past his lips. She seldom ever swore.

Without thinking too much he leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead. Her eyes were already half-closed.

“Let’s talk about it when you’re not falling asleep, my love.”

That night Sirius shared everything with the Marauders. James had gasped more times than it was actually needed throughout the story. In the end, he’d pouted and faked offense. (”Padfoot, we are best mates, basically brothers. How could you keep this from me for so long!”) Remus had listened quietly, as he always did, and had only nodded his head when Sirius was done talking. There were many things that he still didn’t understand but knowing this made Padfoot’s strange behavior throughout the years finally make sense. (”If she’s important for you, she’s important for us.”)

And the next day, when (Y/N) reaffirmed that she was willing to leave everything behind to have a shot at living a life for herself, Sirius found himself being the happiest he’d been in a while.

It would all be alright.

v. epilogue

Time had made (Y/N) soft.

Her eyes, once impassive and cold, would crinkle with happiness as they’d never before. The tight reign in her emotions, which had been taught by her mother, lessened. She would only ever revert back to a shell of her old self around people she mistrusted. (Y/N) was still a formidable person with a presence that demanded attention—people would subconsciously turn around to meet her as soon as she walked into a room —but she wouldn’t hide the way she would soften around the people she loved.

“How is little Padfoot doing today?” a familiar voice asked, startling (Y/N). In her shock she’d almost dropped the knife she’d been using to cut celery.

She turned around to meet James Potter who was followed behind by his wife, Lily, and their son. The little Potter was about to become two years old and, from what Lily had told (Y/N), James had started to talk about having another kid.

“Salazar’s beard, James,” (Y/N) reprimanded.

“I’m sorry, (Y/N/N),” Lily walked around her husband, baby propped up on her hip.

(Y/N) waved her offhandedly, telling her it wasn’t a problem, before greeting her friend. She went to kiss Harry’s chubby cheeks, pulling a funny face that made the toddler erupt in giggles.

“I’ve told him that we should owl you beforehand but he’s just incorrigible.” The redhead sent her husband a pointed look but he just shrugged unapologetically.

“Sirius is my brother,” James said. “Since you married my brother,” he pointed at (Y/N), “that makes you my sister-in-law.”

Getting married had been a spontaneous and impulsive decision. Sirius had given her the ring and he’d said, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

So, three months after leaving Hogwarts the couple had eloped and she became (Y/N) Black.

Not only had they done it because of their love for each other but also because, as Sirius had brought up, as long as she remained unmarried her parents could still find a way to tie her to anyone they wished. (Her parents, once they discovered that she’d run away with Sirius Black, had done everything in their power to force her to come back home. But they couldn’t coerce her to do anything, not when she now had a firm and loving support system behind her. She didn’t need their money or the power they tried to bribe her with. She was in love and, for the first time in her life, she felt at peace.)

And although she didn’t have the wedding that she’d dreamed of as a child, the big wedding that her mother had already planned by the time she was nine, her wedding day was one of the best of her life.

James stepped into the kitchen, taking a small piece of celery and eating it before (Y/N) could slap his hand away. (Celery dipped in hummus was her latest craving).

“And you don’t owl family before using the Floo Network, Lils,” he finished between munches.

Having grown up around magic (Y/N) wanted to inform him he was very wrong, that her parents always owled her grandparents a week in advance of their visit. But then again, she’d grown up with people that shared her last name and blood but weren’t truly family. Maybe this was the Potter way and, although she would never admit it, (Y/N) had grown to love the Potter way of doing things.

(Besides, this random appearances at the Blacks apartment only happened because Sirius and James insisted that they needed to have their homes connected by Floo. (Y/N) had been a little apprehensive in the beginning but she didn’t mind anymore. It was good to have family close by.)

“So, how is little Pads doing today?” James asked, stepping forward as if asking for permission.

Looking behind him, (Y/N) caught the look that Lily sent her. It said, “See what I’m talking about?”

(Lily had the theory that seeing (Y/N) pregnant reminded her husband of the time that she’d been pregnant hence the reason he’d become more insistent on having another Potter baby.)

She sent her a look back that replied, “You might be right.”

James waited impatiently and as soon as (Y/N) nodded her head, he lowered himself to place a hand on her round belly.

Unsurprisingly, as soon as their future uncle’s hand came in touch with the clothing, the little babe kicked.

“He always starts playing with my internal organs when you or Remus are around,” (Y/N) informed him with small discomfort, watching as his face lightened up.

“He?” Lily asked.

Nodding, (Y/N) explained, “I think it’s a boy.”

“Pads has been saying you’ll be having a little girl,” James said as he finally dropped his hand from her stomach. He turned around to meet his family and Harry started reaching out for him. Lily passed the baby over to her husband.

“We’re having a bet on that, actually,” a new voice said.

If the little bean kicked when their uncles were around, they full-on started to do gymnastics with only the sound of their father’s voice.

“Why am I not surprised?” Lily whispered to (Y/N) as she walked closer to take a look at the food in the oven.

(Y/N) chuckled. They always had to bet on things they disagreed on.

Behind her, Sirius greeted his best mate and godson. The little Potter seemed much happier now that his uncle was here. (Harry preferred Sirius over everyone and Sirius had a soft spot for the kid).

“I’ll start setting the table,” Lily told her, straightening up when she realized the food was almost done. “Do not carry the casserole, use your magic or ask one of the guys.”

Although raised by pureblood elitists, (Y/N) had learned the muggle way of cooking when she’d been younger. Food tasted better when magic wasn’t used. It was the reason she never used her wand in the kitchen unless it was being used to wash dirty dishes. Lily had been moderately surprised when she’d found out. She’d also been horrified when she’d seen (Y/N) carrying heavy plates of food while almost eight months pregnant.

“You worry too much, Lils.”

She did, but (Y/N) couldn’t help feeling grateful. She’d never had such a good friend before, someone that doted on her and loved her without expecting anything in return.

“It’s because I care about you.”

(Y/N) reckoned she would never get used to hearing those words.

The redhead sent her a smile and took both her husband and kid out of the kitchen to help set the table.

“How are my girls doing today?”

He pressed a kiss to (Y/N)’s lips, hands cupping her face before he lowered himself to be able to press a kiss to her belly.

The baby kicked, hard.

(Y/N) groaned, “The little bean missed you.”

“And I missed her,” he replied. “Have you been good to mummy today?”

His fingers caressed the skin in her stomach and the babe kicked again, this time in a more delicate way.

Sirius took that as a yes and he pressed another kiss to (Y/N)’s belly, mumbling a small “good”.

“How was work?” she asked as he straightened up. His hands remained by her side, thumbs running by the sides of her stomach.

Sirius pressed his forehead against hers and sighed, “Busy.”

After Hogwarts Sirius had gone to work in the Ministry of Magic. He was working in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as an Auror. His days were long and exhausting, most of the time also dangerous. (Y/N), on the other hand, had gone to train as a mediwitch. She’d been working at St. Mungo’s for the last five years and was currently on maternity leave.

(Y/N) caressed his face, fingers making the wrinkles of exhaustion disappear. He relaxed under her touch, always had.

The small beeping of the oven snapped them out of their small bubble.

Outside the kitchen, she could hear little Harry babbling to himself while Lily and James talked to someone. Apparently, Remus would be joining them for dinner too.

(Their apartment always had people around hence the reason (Y/N) had begun to cook for more people than just her and Sirius.)

She moved towards the oven, but Sirius stopped her.

“I’ve got this, love,” he assured her. “Why won’t you go sit down for a couple of minutes while I get his ready.”

Her eyes narrowed, “I’m pregnant, not incapable of functioning.”

He smiled at the snarky tone she used. He’d long gotten used to the hormonal changes which would make her snap at the smallest things.

“I know,” he pressed a kiss to her temple. “But please let me do this?”

She sighed, “Fine.” As she walked out of the kitchen, she told him over her shoulder, “Only because your kid won’t stop dancing around.”

Sirius laughed at that.

As they ate together that night, just like they did once every two weeks, (Y/N) couldn’t help the feeling of warmth that spread within her chest. Never in her wildest dreams had she thought she would be able to enjoy the simplicity of life, that she would be able to take control of her future and truly live.

Sirius linked their fingers together.

She was home.

#sirius black #james potter #remus lupin #lily evans #sirius black x reader #sirius black x slytherin!reader #harry potter saga #harry potter fanfiction #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #james potter x platonic!reader #james potter x reader #marauders era #marauders era imagine #sirius black imagine #harry potter imagine

752 notes · View notes

myarlert · 2 years

Text

HOW THEY WOULD PLAN AROUND THE RAIN !!

# .01 — eren yeager, armin arlert, jean kirschtein, levi ackerman

# .02 — cw; mentions/implications of sex, some rotting nasty fluff, pet names; [baby, my love]

# .03 — no genders specified, this one is pretty short but sweet. enjoy.

minors do not interact

EREN YEAGER

won’t wake up until about noon, blankets are all crumpled up, pillows thrown to different places as a result of last night. he would mumble a soft ‘good mornin’ baby’, pulling you closer into his chest while pressing kisses to your cheeks. 10/10 would have morning breath which made you push him away and get up, walking to the restroom before you turn back to him, ‘’ren it’s raining outside!’ you’d see his back heaving as he softly breathed in and out, admiring his rippled muscles that adorned his skin. ‘mmmm what a good day to stay cuddled up, hm? maybe relive what we did last night? didn’t it feel good?’ which definitely brought a creeping grin onto your lips.

ARMIN ARLERT

would wake up at the butt crack of dawn, open the curtains and sit at the couch to just look outside at the rain falling down. when he hears shuffling, he turns to see you wrapped in an oversized throw blanket with a great big smile on your face. ‘good morning baby! i didn’t wanna wake you, but i made you some tea! well, heated up the water. it should still be pretty warm, just grab a mug and sit here when you’re ready?’ his smile was soft, warm and his eyes glistened in the light coming in from outside. once you’re seated next to him he pulls you into his side, resting his head on your shoulder. ‘so there isn’t much we can do outside today. thought maybe we could have worked on the garden a bit, but not with the mud. so maybe we can just stay in. maybe watch some movies or play some board games? maybe take a nap later? does that sound alright to you?’

JEAN KIRSCHTEIN

would prob wake up at like eight or nine am, cuddle you for a bit then move on to breakfast, making something light or just grabbing a protein bar. as soon as he sees you dressed, shoes on and everything he would cock his eyebrow up. ‘what’s up baby? going somewhere?’ a smile on your lips as you approached him with a warm hug, rubbing his back. ‘wanna go to the aquarium? look at the fishies?’ he absolutely chuckles at your remark, nodding his head and pulling you back into his chest, swaying the both of you side to side for a moment. ‘we can go look at the fishies and then if it’s not raining too hard after that.. how’s that outdoor cafe sound?’ biting his lip waiting for your reply his hands would rub your sides, not tickling you but just lovingly. ugh he could get butterflies at how excited you would get.

LEVI ACKERMAN

also wakes up at about six am, already drinking his first cup of tea when you walk into the kitchen. he would be leaning against he kitchen counter, taking sips every now and then while looking at the rain dripping off the drain pipe. ‘morning levi,’ you’d say, hugging him from behind. he sets down his cup, turning around in your arms and wrapping his arms around your shoulders, holding you close. ‘and the best of mornings to you my love.’ he’d kiss your forehead. you stood there for a few minutes. enjoying his warmth and sound of the rain gently, silently hitting the roof. ‘i’ve got nothing planned for today, so if you have any ideas..’ he starts but you stop him. ‘can we go for a walk? it’s not too bad outside.’ he blinks and turns his head to peer outside. ‘we can and will my love. just make sure to bundle up more, i don’t want you getting a cold.’ he says again, planting a sweet kiss on your forehead. would he lightly smack your ass when you walk away? yep.

tagging @okhotel @paradisdementor

#my writing #aot fluff #attack on titan fluff #eren yeager fluff #armin arlert fluff #jean kirschtein fluff #levi ackerman fluff #eren yeager #armin arlert #jean kirschtein #levi ackerman

225 notes · View notes

donutloverxo · 3 years

Note

Soooo there are many fics where reader makes steve jealous and it ends in rogh possesive fcking.. but what if steve tries to make reader jealous and it totally backfires and she becomes extremely insecure?? But please with a fluffy ending because my poor heart can’t handle anything less 🥺🥺

Hey. Thanks for the request and I hope this fits. *gif is not mine* Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Please note that my stories are not to be stolen or reposted on any other site. Reblogs and welcome and much appreciated. This blog and this story is 18+. Do not read, follow or interact if you are not 18+. Please🙏🙏

"Um... yes?" You asked as you brought down the hand which was holding out a twenty dollar bill - since you thought it was the pizza you've been waiting for, for like the past half an hour, and not a blond, six feet and some inches,tall super soldier.

"Hi... doll," he smiled.

"My name's Y/N," you corrected him as you frowned, so fed up of men undermining you by calling you such 'sweet' nicknames. You knew Captain Rogers wasn't like that, but still you couldn't have him getting any ideas.

"Right," he cleared his throat as he repeated your name. "Sorry," he said with a toothy grin, which almost made your heart melt.

"How did you get my address, Captain?"

"Tony gave it to me. I would've asked you at work... but I wanted to do this the right way."

"Do what?" you quirked a brow.

"Um, I maybe people aren't as formal nowadays," he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, "But I can't really change who I am... not so late in life anyway," he cringed as he realised he was pretty rambling then, taking a deep breath he gathered enough courage, "I wanted to ask you to come with me, as my date, to the valentines party this Sunday."

You hummed at that, considering it because damn if Rogers wasn't convincing. Even when he wasn't as authoritative and dominating as he is when he puts on the suit.

It would be nice to be courted and treated nicely, and to not have to put up with the shit most men try to pull with you, you were sure Rogers would show you the time of your life. Besides, only an idiot would say no to him.

"No." You said with a finality that left no room for debate. "Is that all?"

"Uh... I... yes..." he stammered, not exactly prepared to be turned down so bluntly. "Can I ask why?"

"I don't shit where I eat."

"What?" his eyebrows cutely scrunching up.

You just knew you must've touched a nerve with your crass language. Tony, your boss, had told you about Cap and his 'language' incident.

"I don't date people at work... it can get complicated," you explained as he nodded.

It wasn't a complete lie. You didn't want to be known as the 'easy' girl or have others gossip about you. But that would be a sacrifice you'd willing make for someone like Steve. Who'd dare make fun of the Captains girl anyway?

You had been smitten with him from the moment you saw him, learning about his bravery and sacrifice as a kid you looked upto him and respected him, but when you met him in real life... you were a complete goner. Your stomach did somersaults every time he touched you, or hell even looked your way.

You tried your best to flirt, which was basically you stuttering and trying to make small talk whenever you had a chance to talk to him. Since he was born almost a century ago he would probably be offended if you were the one to make the first move.

You continued your back and forth for weeks before he told you about her. That he'll be visiting her over the weekend. You simply nodded, having a vague idea of who Peggy Carter was but not of what she went to Steve.

After some research you found out that she was an old flame of his, someone he couldn't marry and build a life with because he was frozen for decades. Upon seeing her many qualifications, and just how freaking brilliant she was, you knew one thing.

You may not be as smart as her, but you knew that you could never measure upto a woman that incredible. Someone Steve still visits after all these years. You were already afraid that he was out of your league but now you were sure of it.

"Did I do something wrong?" he wanted to know.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he shoved his hands in his pockets, his bottom lip jutting out in a pout, "It's just that you used to talk to me all the time... and now it seems as if you're ignoring me. Is it because of something I did? Whatever it is I never meant to hurt you," he swore.

You sighed. "It's nothing you did, really. I just realized how incompatible we are. I hope you find the one you're looking for, someone who'll make you happy and give you the world. It just won't be me."

You didn't let him say anything closing your door instantly as you kept your tears at bay.

At the valentines party

"Cap," Tony said, slapping a hand on Steve's shoulder, "I thought you'd have her on your arm tonight. What happened?"

Referring to his assistant. He wanted to play cupid this once, since it was the season of love, he wanted to see his idiot friends happy. He was sure you both would be disgustingly smooching and all cute at the party. But not only had you both shown up separately, you seemed to be actively ignoring Steve.

"She uh... rejected me," he said, looking down into his glass of whiskey. It didn't do much for him but it helped him blend in.

"Ouch," Tony winced, "I was sure she would go for you. But I guess I have been wrong before," he shrugged.

"Really?"

"Yeah. She goes all heart eyes whenever you're around. But I guess that's nothing unique since that's just how most women act around you," he scoffed. "You should read all the love letters you got today. I was going through them, you have quite a passionate fanbase of people who want to... what was it..." he pretended to think hard about it. "Yes, 'ride your bicep', I don't understand the physics of how on earth that would work, but I am intrigued."

"Tony," Steve rolled his eyes as he always does when he's around the billionaire. "I don't really care about all of them... they don't know me. I only care about her and I don't know why she said no, but there's nothing I can do about it."

"Whoa, you're accepting defeat so soon? Where's that I-can-do-this-all-day attitude?"

"This isn't a war, Tony. If she doesn't see me that way... then there isn't much I could do."

"Maybe she's just playing hard to get. There's absolutely no way to really know what goes on in womens heads, Rogers. They're so smart and sneaky... it's kinda scary actually."

"I don't think she'd play games..."

Tony had gotten distracted pretty quickly and left Steve alone to pout and only appreciate your beauty from afar. You had worn a pink dress with red hearts on it, and for some reason, you got more beautiful every time he looked at you.

"Hello."

He jerked when he heard the foreign voice, looking at the blonde woman next to him, with her hand out, he shook it just to be polite.

"I'm Crystal," she smiled, flashing her sparkly white teeth.

"I'm Steve."

"Of course I know who you are!" she laughed, "You're Captain America, everyone knows you," she playfully hot his bicep before squeezing it, "Oh my... you must work out a lot."

"Uh... yeah..." he nodded. He could never get used to how people perceived him so differently.

"There is something I need to know really bad," Crystal blinked as she looked up at him, "Do you wear underwear in those suits? They seem really tight, wouldn't it be uncomfortable?"

"Oh, um... we just sort of..."

You had never looked at yourself as a jealous person. Maybe things were different when it came to Steve... he was a pretty special guy.

When you looked at him, talking to some girl, dancing with her, laughing and having fun with her, it was as if you were on fire from simmering rage, at the same time you could feel your heart breaking in a million pieces.

You knew it was wrong. You had no claim to him, he can do whatever he wants. If you said no to him then it makes perfect sense that he seeked out someone else.

You just had to get away for some fresh air, so you wouldn't abandon all class and pull the girls hair and drag her away from your Steve.

You yelped when you heard him call out your name.

Looking over your shoulder you saw him staring at you, his brows scrunched up, he looked so worried. But why?

"What're you doing here? You'll catch a cold, doll," he takes off his blazer, putting it over your shoulders and then groaning when he realised his slip up.

"Right, sorry, old habits die hard. I won't call you that again, I promise," he said, crossing his finger over his heart.

"No... I think it's kinda sweet. No ones ever had such an endearing petname for me. I do like it."

"Oh," he frowned, "it's just that you said you didn't."

Tony, of all the people in the whole universe, was right. There was no understanding women.

"I guess I lied..."

"Why?"

"Um..." You were at a loss of words and nervous. Steve wouldn't tolerate lies, and you didn't want him to hate you. "It was easier to do that then tell you the truth."

"What's the truth?"

"I do like you... a lot. But I don't want to live in someone else's shadow. And I just think the whole thing would end in a disaster..."

"What're you talking about, Y/N?"

"Peggy. Your first and only love. I can't measure upto her, not in my wildest dreams, there's no use trying."

"Why would you have to measure upto Peggy?"

You opened your mouth to answer, but couldn't really come up with an answer. "Why wouldn't I?"

"I did have feelings for her, but that was a long time ago. I'm happy she lived her life, it just wasn't meant to be."

"So, you're not still in love with her?"

"No," he shook his head, "I wouldn't have asked you out if I was."

"Well, what about Crystal? You were practically glued to her the entire evening!" you huffed as you stomped your foot. Mad at your own stupidity. You could've simply told him the truth and asked for a straight answer. "I have to warn you, she had was pretty crazy in the last season."

"Last season?"

"Mm-hm, the last season of her reality show, I've seen all eight seasons. Maybe they just amp up the drama, maybe she isn't actually crazy, I wouldn't know," you shrugged.

"Doll," he smirked, circling a hand around your waist and pulling you into him, "are you jealous?"

"I am not!" you gasped, looking away from his eyes as you felt your cheeks heat up.

"I don't want anyone but you. Why would I? You're goddamn perfect. And... I want you to be my girl."

"I guess I don't really have a reason to say no now..." you murmured, your face still flustered as you played with the buttons on his shirt before he tilted your chin up to make you look at him, placing his lips over yours in the most tender of kisses.

"Got the job done, Tones... I'm pretty sure I saw him go after her, I have to say though, you look at Captain America, and you really don't expect him to be that awkward..." Crystal said as she sipped on her gin and tonic. "You owe me."

Tony only hummed, not too happy about being indebted to someone, but you both needed a necessary push in the right direction.

#berry answers #steve rogers x reader #chris evans x reader #captain america x reader #steve x reader #steve rogers x you #marvel x reader #avengers x reader #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you

2K notes · View notes

dadsbongos · 3 years

Text

trashy dad

Movie/Game/Show: My Hero Academia Dynamic: Shota Aizawa/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: references (2) to un*s ann*s, one (1) use of (y/n), fem pronouns Summary: Shota trying to support his YouTuber daughter :) cuz social media aus own me Word Count: 2.1K ~~~

"Hey, gamers," you grin at the camera before tossing an arm over your father's shoulders, "My dad's in town and as you can see," you hesitated slightly before turning to face your father, "Dad's not super into taking care of himself. So, I figured what's better than doing a Q&A together while I do his makeup?"

"Hitoshi just did a 'what I eat in a day', didn't he?" Shota quirked a brow, already reaching back to tie up his messy, tangled hair.

"Spoilers!" you quietly whine as you open your phone, "He still has to edit it, silly man. We're gonna have to brush out your hair later, by the way."

Shota's eyes widened, "We? I thought this was your idea and video, (Y/n)."

"No," you huff, scrolling through a few of the questions from fans, "I mean it was but your hair is so… Okay, first question is from - oh my God the names - shrekslongtoe, what was my first word?"

"Are you gonna start putting makeup on me or just sit there?" Shota scratched at his nose before snickering, "That wasn't your first word. Your first word was 'Dada' and it drove Hizashi insane."

"Hizashi is my other dad, by the way," you lean over to grab your makeup bag, "'Toshi and I call him papa. Oooh, oh no," you looked up to Shota, "I don't have your shade, you're gonna look weird."

"I don't really care," the man shrugged, watching as you took out a pink beauty blender, "That looks like a buttplug."

"Don't say that!" your eyes were wide at his words while you got out your foundation, "Youtube doesn't like that."

"Whoops," he deadpanned, "Next question."

"Shit, right."

"Language."

"Japanese," you murmur, going to the next reply, "yoonbumskneecap asks, 'Did you believe in me-’ they said my name but you know, ‘and Hitoshi when they decided to become Youtubers?' And 'in 'Toshi's case - drop out of college to become a professional clout man.'"

"To be honest," Shota closed his eyes, only in slight fear, as you began pressing the foundation into his skin, "I was really worried about Hitoshi, I didn't know if he'd stay as big as he was because he's a lot like me, in the sense that people tend to not like us for our bluntness. So I was worried he'd be a meme for like a month and then people would drop him, but thankfully I was proved wrong," he opened his eyes when he felt you pull away and begin rooting through your bag once again, "With you, I was less worried because you're more like 'Zashi, i.e extremely likable, and you were kind of getting a boost from appearances on Hitoshi's channel. I still worry because the internet is a fickle mistress but I'm not staying up at night about it."

Pulling out a dark eyebrow pencil, you grin at your father, "Aww, that was kinda sweet. Not really but kind of."

"What I'm here for," Shota's eyes followed your hand as you uncapped the pencil and reached up, beginning to mark at his eyebrows, "I'm gonna read the next question while you kill my eyebrows."

"I'm not killing them!" you giggled, "But unlike Papa, you already have pretty thick, full eyebrows so I won't be here long."

"Good," he muttered before furrowing his brows in confusion, ignoring your frustrated groan, "who is daddysero and why is he asking if you pissed today?"

"What?!" you pull your dad's hand back to see what he was looking at, instantly calming down when you saw he was still on Twitter, "Oh, that's just Sero, he asks me that every time I tweet. I thought you went to my Instagram DMs," at Shota's questioning stare you grinned, "Mama's got simps in her DMs."

"Don't ever call yourself 'Mama' in my presence ever again," Shota shook his head, once again ignoring your annoyance, "papichulo46290 wants to know my favorite memory of you."

"If you mix me up with 'Toshi, I'll be so pissed," you return the eyebrow pencil to your bag as Shota speaks.

"I won't... probably," he shrugs while you root through your bag, "So, Hizashi had taken Hitoshi out for ice cream because of - has he mentioned his middle school trauma?" at your nod, he continues, "Hitoshi was having a bad day from middle school, shocking, so you and I were left home alone together. You were probably seven and you really wanted to paint my nails and I let you. You..." he shook his head, snickering, "you fucked them up. So bad. But you were so happy to just be spending time with me- "

"Keep talking, but I'm gonna do your eyeshadow," you lean back in, swishing your brush over a navy blue, almost black shade, "Just so you guys know, Dad wanted to look like shit, don't unsubscribe cuz this is gonna come out bad."

"It won't be too bad, you're talented," Shota did his best to remain still, "But overall, you were just so adorable and it didn't even matter that the smudged nails got me teased in the teacher's lounge the next day. It all came off after like a week because it was shitty polish but you get the idea."

"Aww, I didn't know you kept it on, that's so sweet," you fall back briefly to inspect your work, "It's not awful but I'm only posting this because you're my dad."

"Of course, I did," Shota continued scrolling through the questions, "A lot of people are asking if you mean Dad or Daddy, and a lot more people are asking for pictures of your feet, you should block them all."

"Yeah, I got sickos in my replies too, just gotta scroll past em'."

"Disgusting..." Shota grumbled as you moved to his other eye, "Is 'electrodick' Kaminari, perchance?"

"Unfortunately."

"Gross, he asks if you had an 'I'm not like other girls' phase," Shota hummed quietly in thought, "Maybe when you were eight for like a month, but that's probably because except for Nemuri you didn't have any women in your life. Thankfully you moved on from that pretty quickly."

"Oh yeah, that was a gross, weird time. You and Papa also weren’t shitty people so I didn’t have a lot of misogynist influence."

"I like to think we did a good job," Shota sighed, finally moving back into his slouching position when you pulled away completely, "Is 'explosionmurder' Bakugou?"

"You know it."

"Okay well, he's asking if you plan on fucking up your bronzing again?" he thinks for a moment, “Was that from when you looked kinda copper-ish in a video?

"Oh my God, that was one time, Bakugou!" you shout and shake your brush at the camera, "One time!"

"I don't even know what blending is so you're doing better than I am."

"God, how are we related?"

Without hesitation, Shota replied, "Surrogate. Which answers summerlongsock's question."

"Nice," you chuckle, setting the brush back in your bag, "You probably won't need too much bronze or countour since you're going for bad," you immediately turn to the camera, "And Bakugou isn't gonna say a fucking word about it!"

"Is eyeliner next? And if so, I would enjoy a nice wing," Shota muttered, looking through the remaining questions, "Hitoshi asks why I haven't done a video with him yet."

You nod along while uncapping the liner, "I'm curious about that too. I thought my first video with a parent would be with Papa. I was gonna say family but..." you shrug, "Hitoshi was my first video and then Eri came on."

"He never asked," Shota closed both of his eyes, allowing you to move his head around as you pleased, "You just texted me the video idea and we set it up while I was in town. If Hitoshi wants a video so bad he should come up with an idea."

"Jeez, don't bully the poor boy," you laughed quietly, carefully applying more eyeliner to your father's left lid, "We should all do a video together. I think it'd be fun."

"Come up with an idea," he replied flatly before opening his eyes, "davinky wants to know when you got into makeup. Probably after thirteen, sometime."

"Yeah, I got my first real eyeshadow at like fourteen and then you guys just enabled my love of makeup after that."

"Well, the thing with that was, Hizashi and I didn't want you growing up thinking you had to wear makeup for any reason," Shota opened his eyes once he felt you back away, blinking a few times, "So we waited till you were more mature because giving makeup to a six-year-old is weird."

Capping your eyeliner, you traded it out for mascara, "Yeah, even little play kits are a bit ehhh. Don't close your eyes, but look down."

Following instruction, Shota took the opportunity to read off another question, "I can't see the name but someone's asking what we did together for fun. While you were a kid."

Humming quietly in thought, you move from one eye to the other, "We used to go to diners a lot. Those late-night diner trips, remember?"

"Oh yeah, you were such a little demon about bedtime. I had to take you to this little place for scrambled eggs or some shit and you'd fall asleep on the way back home."

Putting away your mascara, you reach out for your hairbrush before beginning to pull out the hair tie in Shota's hair, "Mina wanted me to ask what videos you show people when they ask what your kids do for a living."

"For Hitoshi, the one where he and Kaminari made Bakugou breakfast with sex toys. For you, the one where you turn yourself into Mina's little character - with the pink skin," Shota winced slightly at the tug of your hairbrush, "And Eri's a teacher so that information comes first since it's the least strange."

As you fussed with his tangled nest of hair, you read another question over Shota's shoulder, "When did you know you loved me? Like after adopting me."

"Not too long after the adoption was finalized actually," Shota grumbled as the brush made its final courses through his hair, "You've always been a really great kid. I don't know when I 'realized' but it was definitely around the time you were born, maybe like the day after."

"That's pretty good considering I was a stranger," you giggled, brushing out the final knots in his dark hair, "A baby stranger."

"Hmm," Shota hummed in response, "You almost done?"

Refraining from rolling your eyes, you fluffed Shota's now smooth and detangled hair around his shoulders with a small smile, "I'm done. Your hair is so pretty when it's brushed out."

"I know," the man muttered, handing your phone back, "Wanna do one more question and then sign off?"

"Yeah," you scroll through some of the questions, "I want it to be the best question that's ever been asked."

"Ask your own, you're great at that."

You shook your head with furrowed brows at his comment, "Is that a compliment?"

"It was meant to be."

"Thanks, but no need, I've found one. Midoriya wants to know if raising two attention whores was hard. He didn't say ‘attention whores’ because he doesn't swear but that's the vibe."

"What's Midoriya's at?" Shota asked.

"SmallMight."

"Of course," the man grumbled, closing his eyes to think, "You two were honestly pretty easy to raise. Not a whole lot of fits compared to what I've heard other parents talk about. You both liked to talk a lot to each other, and, of course, to Hizashi and me. Not terribly difficult at all."

"Aww, I'm glad we didn't make you pull your hair out," you grin.

"Oh, you still did. Absolutely."

"Nice," you giggle before turning off your phone and facing the camera, "Okay guys, well, I hope you don't clown on me as much as usual because if you do, my dad will... I don't know… kick your ass."

"Exactly," Shota nodded, a horrific smile on his face, "I'll beam right into your living room."

"Hopefully you guys come back next week where I'll..." floundering for an answer, you turn to your dad as if he’d give you ideas, "Create wings to do it better than Icarus ever could."

Giving a singular stiff nod, Shota looked dead at the camera, "I'd watch it."

"You heard it from the main man himself, peeps," you waved to the camera, Shota copying the motion, “Bye!”

"If there's one comment about my eyebags, I'm never coming on your channel again," Shota lied as you leaned over to stop recording.

"They're gonna love you, I'm sure," you assure your father, "Wanna see how I edit?"

"God no, Hitoshi showed me how long it takes to edit his videos, it looks like hell."

#bnha x reader #bnha x reader platonic #shota aizawa x reader #shota x reader #aizawa x reader #shota aizawa x daughter reader #aizawa x daughter reader #shota x daughter reader #shota x reader platonic

329 notes · View notes

spideymarvelws · 3 years

Note

Playing truth or dare with college!Peter and MJ dares you to give him a (private) lap dance

This turned out to be much longer than expected

Main Masterlist / Add Yourself To My Taglists

Warnings : SMUT! (Lap dance?ish?kind of? i went a bit of script im sorry, thigh riding, grinding, dirty talk, dom!peter, innocence kink, corruption kink?, masterbation, oral[male rec], mild degrading), alcohol consumption, everyone is 18+, kinda fluffy in the beginning but we do be getting smutty real quick tho, MJ being your personal wing woman

Also please dont take drinks from strangers this is fiction and not real life, always drink responsibly :)))

Word Count : 4.8k

Behind Doors

Fratboy!Peter Parker x Fem!Reader

You tried to keep your staring to a minimum, you really did. But how could you when he stood in the middle of the crowd, glowing like an angel amongst everyone. He was laughing with his friends, his head tilted back with his eyes squeezed shut and a smile that could make anyone's day so much brighter. You wanted nothing more but to run your hands through his floppy brown hair bouncing on his head as he told his mates a story, his facial and hand movements lively when he moved them around, accentuating the words falling from his mouth.

His fit didn’t help either. A tight white t-shirt paired with blue jeans and a gold chain that hung from his neck, begging to be played with in any way. It was simplistic but made you swoon all the same. His muscles printed through the fabric didn’t help much either, his biceps almost tearing through the sleeves a mouth watering contrast to his cheerful face.

It was like staring at a greek god that radiated puppy dog energy.

“You’re not being subtle you know,” MJ whispered into you ear nudging your side with her elbow, “Just go talk to him,”

You shook your head, heat rising to your face as you averted your eyes from the brown eyed boy, turning to face your best friend, “You know i can’t do that,”

“Not with that you aren’t,” she pointed at the red solo cup you held in your hand filled halfway with orange juice. She quickly snatched the cup away from you, dumping the contents in the grass of the backyard.

“Hey!” You gasped, but made no effort to stop her.

“You need to loosen up,” she stabbed her finger into the middle of your chest, shoving her drink into your hands, “All of it, now,”

You took the cup hesitantly swirling the contents inside around for a bit, watching as the liquid moved smoothly around the sides of the plastic. You looked back up at MJ, feeling small when she stared you down with a stern look. You knew you weren’t finding a way out of this one.

“Fine,” you grumbled before tilting your head back, chugging the alcohol down. You let out a few coughs afterwards, giggling as MJ started to cheer.

“That’s my girl!” She wrapped her arm around your shoulder, pulling you into her side, “Now for about five more,”

Two hours and four drinks later, or maybe it was six you weren't keeping count, the party finally started to die down. The liquor running through your system did its job well in letting you loosen up so you could enjoy the party without being distracted by a certain brown haired boy.

You had lost MJ halfway through the night, your mind finally processing that she wasn’t by your side when you reached for her to dance with you. As you busied yourself by looking around the room, you felt someone place their hand on your lower back, sending shivers up your spine with the touch. You whipped your head around, expecting your equity intoxicated friend but only to be met with the same brown eyes you’ve been fawning over at the beginning of the night.

“Hey,” he said into your ear so that you heard it over all the noise. He moved his hand off your back after he got your attention. You tried your best to keep the tiny whine from escaping your throat at the loss of his touch. The free feeling you felt with the alcohol completely vanished with the sound of his voice turning you into that shy nerd all over again.

“Looking for someone?” He said, pushing the tips of his fingers into the front pockets of his pants.

You stood speechless, you mouth agape that Peter Parker, the Peter Parker was talking to you. MJ was wrong, no amount of alcohol could’ve prepared you for the moment. At least you didn't scurry away like a mouse like you would’ve if you were fully sober.

“I- uh,” you coughed, trying to get some words out but failing miserably.

“Sorry, It’s just I saw you looking around,” he scratched the back of his neck, chuckling at your flustered state. His cheeks starting to turn a light pink which made you swoon even harder, “I assume you’re looking for MJ, since you were with her for most of the night,”

“Oh, right,” you mumbled, laughing awkwardly, looking down to the ground, “How did you know I was with her?”

“You guys are always together!” He smiled showing off his pearly whites, “Around campus you know? I’ve seen you guys together in my classes as well,”

“You noticed me?” You whispered, mainly to yourself but he managed to pick up your words, making you even more embarrassed than before.

“Of course!” He passed his hand through his hair, looking straight into your eyes, “How could I not Y/n?”

You stood speechless, your mouth opening and closing as if you wanted to say something but changed your mind last minute. Millions of thoughts ran through your brain per second, the most frequent being your name rolling off his tongue.

“Anyways, uh, the main reason i came was to bring you to MJ,” he chuckled nervously, seeming just as flustered as you, “She’s in one of the spare bedrooms with some of the boys, we’re playing a good ole’ game of truth and dare,” he voice raised adorably, making you giggle lightly, “You don’t need to join or anything, but i don’t think you would want to be alone out here,”

“Yeah!” you replied a bit to quickly, shaking your head at your enthusiasm, “I mean, yeah, I would like to join you,”

“Sick!” He smiled brightly, grabbing your hand. Your eyes widened at the action as he pulled you through the crowd, you looked down at the ground, allowing him to maneuver you around the mass of bodies.

“Just so you don’t get lost,” he said, looking back at you, pointing out your intertwined hands.

“Of course!” You said back, holding back your squeals of excitement.

You were honestly surprised with how sweet he was acting towards you. Despite his status as part of the biggest frat on campus, his reputation upholded him as the good boy of the group, the one who helped old lady’s across the street or bought lunch for you when you didn't have the money. Sure, you saw this on multiple occasions but to experience it for yourself was a nice change, and just solidified your crush on him even more.

When he reached the stairway vacant of anybody, he still didn't let go of your hand, only tightening his fingers around yours. He walked down the dark hallway and approached a door ,giving you a reassuring smile before turning the knob and pushing it open, revealing around eight or nine people. Some laid on the bed, beers in hand as they laughed while others sat on the couch. You spotted MJ on the floor, laughing with Harry Osborn.

“Who’s the chick Parker?” One of the boys said, silencing the room and putting everyone's attention on you.

“This is Y/n,” he gestured towards you, “Y/n, everyone,” Peter finally let go of your hand, popped himself on the edge of the bed, picking up a beer from the side table and nodding his head at the empty space besides him.

You looked towards MJ panicked, but all she did was mouth ‘go’ with a shit eating grin. You sneered back at her, rolling your eyes as you walked up to the bed, bending your right leg back to sit on your calf while the other dangled over the edge.

“You’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Peter leaned into your ear, whispering gently, “Again, you don’t have to do anything you don’t have to,”

You pouted at his actions, melting at the fact that he was so observant with you. You looked down at his beer, before looking back up at him. If you were going to get through the rest of the night, you needed to be absolutely wasted.

“Do you have another beer?” You asked him, pointed to his bottle.

“You could just have mine,” he offered his drink, passing it off to you.

You bit your lip, taking a long swig of the liquid, “Thank you,”

Before the both of you could converse any longer, a girl with short blond hair you knew from English, called out from the corner, “Okay, okay, who wants to go next?”

“I think Y/n should go,” flash said, holding up his bottle towards you, “She’s the new one isn’t she?”

Peter looked at you, silently asking if you needed him to say anything. But you decided to take things into your own hands for the first time that night.

“Yeah, I’ll go,” you said, taking another swig of beer.

“Alright Y/n,” Harry said smugly, leaning back on his forearm, “Truth or dare?”

You thought about it for a bit, missing the smug look on MJ’s face as you muttered, “Dare”

“I dare you to give Peter a lap dance,” she said immediately, leaning back as she held in her laugh at your washed out face, “I mean we could send you to the other room if you want more privacy,”

You sat speechless and once again wanted to melt into the sheets beneath you. You felt Peter’s hand wrap around yours, giving him your attention.

“Only if you want to,” he muttered, giving you a soft smile.

“I-,” you took a deep breath, trying to gather the little confidence you had left, “Which room?”

Hollers and shouts bounced off the walls, as everyone hyped both of you up. Peter stood, pulling you up with him, leading you out the room.

“Take as much time as you need!” You heard MJ shout after you before the door closed, leaving you and Peter alone once again.

Your heart pounded inside your chest as Peter guided you once again to another room. You gulped, wondering if you had made the right decision so give a lap dance to your crush. He didn’t say anything as he knocked on a door, opening it when he didn't hear any noise come from the room.

“After you,” he said politely.

“Thank you,” you said shyly, walking to the middle of the room.

Peter closed the door behind him, leaning against the wood, “Sooooo,” he dragged looking you up and down, “I- uh, didn't expect you to say yes,”

“Me neither,” you chuckled, looking down to the floor.

“I mean if you don’t want to, it’s just a silly bet,” Peter said, fiddling with his fingers.

“Do-,” you coughed, “Do you want me too?”

“It’s up to you really,”

“But would you mind if i-“

“I mean I wouldn’t be against it-,”

You both laughed nervously falling into silence after that. You looked around the room, finding interest with everything besides him. You were fidgety, playing with your fingers while tapping your foot on the floor rapidly to calm your nerves. It was stupid, you’ve been dreaming about him for so long, and now that you were finally in a room together you clamed up, not knowing what to do in his presence.

Peter on the other hand kept his gaze on you, his eyes racking your body up and down. He wasn't going to lie to himself and say that he’d never thought of this moment, the moment where you and him were finally together, in a room, all alone.

You were different from the girls he was used to in the frat. You were untouched, well to his knowledge, you were a clean slate and from the small confrontations he’s had with you, he could tell you were obedient too.

He wanted so bad to just have his way with you, to absolutely ravish you like he did in his dreams. But he wanted to savour it. After so long of watching you pin over him, purely to feed his ego, he was ready to take things to the next level and what better way than with a good lap dance. Sure he was the good guy, both as himself and as his alternate persona as a hero, but when it comes to you, all his morals were thrown out the window.

Besides, you were both intoxicated and he didn't want your first time together to be at a stupid party in a room he was barely familiar with.

After a few more seconds of silence, Peter decided to take things into his own hands, to make his fantasy a reality, or to just get it started at least. He was the first to make a move, walking right up to you, taking your chin between his fingers, tilting your head up to look at him while his other hand made its way to the side of your waist, pulling you closer.

“Y/n?” He asked, swiping his thumb across your lips. He may have an unhealthy obsession with them but it didnt matter because in the next few moments he would make them his, “I’m not stupid you know,”

You blinked rapidly, tilting your head to the side at his statement, confused and slightly hurt.

Peter only chuckled, slipping his thumb between your lips for a split second before pulling it back out and resting it back on your plump lip, testing the waters, “I said i noticed you, and when I mean I noticed you,” he leaned forward, placing his lips near your ear, “I meant everything, down to the constant heart eyes,”

You held your breath, not knowing how to feel, what to think. Peter Parker, the Peter Parker, was standing in front of you, playing with your lips with such close proximity, telling you that he was aware of your existence. That there was a chance that he might feel the same way about you.

You had to remind yourself that this was just a bet, that he didn’t mean anything he was saying. He was only doing it because he had to. Even if he was a sweet boy by heart, he still had a reputation for sleeping around, that to him you were just another girl to add to his collection.

But when he pushed his thumb into your mouth, you knew you'd fall victim as well.

“Mhh,” he hummed, “such a good girl, just like i knew you’d be,” suddenly, he pulled his thumb out of your mouth and sat back down on the bed, pulling you to straddle his lap, “Now, i believe you have a dare to fulfill,”

“I- uh,” you stuttered, hesitantly placing your hands on his shoulder as you settled into his hold.

“You’ve never done this before, have you princess?” Peter mumbled, hovering his lips over yours.

“i-,” you shook your head, lost for words when he called you princess.

He hummed, one of his hands gripping your waist while the other laided on your cheek, rubbing the soft skin with his thumb, “Let’s start off slow then,” his thumb moved to your mouth once more, playing with the bottom lip. You sat frozen, letting him take control. You didn't trust your body to move, you could barely even talk.

“I’ve always wondered what it was like to kiss these perfect lips,” he whispered, moving to kiss your neck, trailing his way up to the corner of your mouth, “I’d imagine you’ve though the same,”

You nodded, tightening your hold on his shoulders. Peter laughed, his breath hot on your face.

“You’re going to need to say something if you want me to continue princess,”

“Yes,” you squeaked, clearing your throat, embarrassed by your quick response, “Yes, I-uh, I’ve thought about this, yeah,”

“Hmm, good,” he mumbled before finally latching his lips on yours, keeping your face close with his hand.

His lips were rougher that you imagined, probably from constantly licking them for most of the night. But the more you kissed, your mouths opening and closing with each other like its own dance, the more wet and lustful it became. You could feel your body begin to relax into his, melting into the warmth. His confidence only grew with the soft moans escaping your mouth, quickly slipping his tongue inside when your lips parted, exploring your mouth with vigour and purpose.

Your breath hitched in response, using your own tongue to match his movements and tangling it with his, fighting for dominance you were sure he was going to win. Your fingers ran through his hair, tugging at the short curls at the base of his neck, smiling when he groaned into your mouth. You beamed at him when you finally pulled away, a string of spit connected your lips.

“This seems more than just a lap dance,” you let out a shaky sigh, resting your forehead against his.

He chuckled, using his hands to bring your hips closer to his crotch, your dress rolling further up around your waist.

“Then what are you waiting for,” he said cockily, leaning back on his forearms, looking back at you expectantly.

You let out a breath, readjusting yourself on his lap before moving your hips slowly. Your pussy barely made contact with his now hard cock poking through his jeans, teasing it ever once in a while when your panties brushed the tent. You smirked, despite not knowing what the hell you were doing, it seemed like you were doing a decent job.

“Don’t get to cocky princess,” he groaned, squeezing your waist tightly, “You forget that I’m the one in charge here,”

You bit your lip, muttering a soft sorry.

He hummed, nudging his nose with yours, “Let me help you then,”

He grasped your hips, pulling your it closer to his crotch, grinding it against your core. You let him guide you with his hands, following his lead supporting yourself with your own hands clutching on to his shoulder.

He let out a long sigh, his head falling back. You took that as the queue to grind faster, enjoying the effect you had on him with such a simple movement. Your confidence grew with the noises escaping his throat along with the occasional praise only fueling your need.

In a rush of the moment, you moved your hands to the back of his neck, pulling him into a needy kiss. It was much more sloppier and messier than the previous one, your focus more on moving your hips than keeping your lips in sync with his.

But you wanted more. As much as you enjoyed Peter’s eyes trailing your body, his hands exploring your waist and the angelic look on his face, you couldn't help but wonder if it stopped there. If you could make his moans louder, his hips jut against your with need, just as much as you needed him.

After a few more moments, an idea popped into your head with the faint sound of music coming from downstairs.

“Peter,” you decided to purr in your ear, biting your lip when his eyes fluttered open, dark and filled with lust.

“Yes princess,” He cooed, moving his hands back to your waist while keeping eye contact, brushing his lips over yours. But before he could fully kiss you, you pulled away, giggling at the little whine he let out.

“What is it?” he pouted, rolling his eyes when you didn’t respond, only biting your lip in thought. He grabbed your jaw, focussing your gaze back on him, “You were being such a good girl, what happened hmm?”

“I- I have an idea,” you gulped, the confidence you felt seconds ago melting away under his stare, “Do you have a speaker?”

He nodded his head, pointed to a desk in the corner with a small black speaker sitting on top. You smirked, hopping off his lap and running to the box. Peter leaned back on hands, watching with curious eyes as you pulled out your phone from your jacket pocket, tapping it open and typing in your password.

“What’s going through that head of your princess,” he mumbled, but loud enough for you to hear.

You only giggled in response, playing around with the speaker to turn in on. After a few more seconds of fiddling, you spun around with your phone in hand and a teasing smile on your face. Your finger pressed down on the screen, the room filling with the song Love Is A Bitch by Two Feet.

He scoffed, “And here I am thinking you were just an innocent little thing,”

You bit your lip, looking down shyly and placing your phone on the table, your back facing him, “I just wanted to set the mood,”

“Was grinding down on me not enough?” he teased, “Are you always this greedy?”

You let out a breath before turning around, your heart practically beating out of your chest, “Only with you,”

You glanced up at the brunette face, nervous that maybe you took it too far. It was just a simple lap dance, nothing more and nothing less and you should've kept it that way. But the kiss was addicting, keeping you in a daze where all you wanted was more. More of his touch, his mouth, his taste.

You’ve wanted him for so long and now that you dipped your toes in the waters, you wanted to dive in and never come out. What really kept you going was his reactions to your touch, the small grunts and moans escaping his mouth because of you. He wanted this as much as you did or else he would’ve shut you down by now, right?

You were just getting ahead of yourself.

“Come here Y/n,” he almost growled, his eyes never leaving you while you shuffled your way between his legs, yelping when he gripped your waist and pulled you back down. Instead of straddling his waist, he moved you so your legs were on either side of his left thigh.

You went to speak but the gripped your jaw with his forefinger and thumb, forcing your eyes on him.

“You never fail to surprise me princess,” he whispered, his free hand trailing up your waist, brushing past your breasts, “I thought I had to treat you like a good girl, take my time with you” he chuckled darkly, “Turns out you need this just as much as I do, my greedy, desperate little thing,”

You bit your lip, tucking your head in the crook of his neck to avoid his stare. The pet names he gave you was already enough to leave you a mess but adding ‘my’ in front of it made you melt. You wanted to be his, you wanted him to take control of your body and use you as he pleased. He adjusted his thigh, having it bump against your clothed pussy. Heat rose to your face when you let out a small whimper, settling back on his leg, craving the friction but you didn’t move, waiting for specific instructions.

“You weren’t so shy before, what happened?” he kissed the shell of your ear, “Go on princess, ride my thigh like the desperate whore I know you are,”

Without thinking you began to grind your pussy along his thigh, your face growing hotter when you felt the wetness seep on to his jeans. Peter kept his hands on your waist, keeping your movements at his own past, occasionally bouncing his leg, enjoying the little whines you let out. When you started moving faster, he knew you were nearing your high.

“Princess, look at me,” he grunted,“I want to see that pretty face when you cum,”

You let out a shaky sigh, pulling your head up to face him but you could barely keep your head up, too concentrated on moving your hips against the rough fabric of his jeans. He quickly recognised this and wrapped his hand around your throat, squeezing lightly to get some of your attention.

“Peter,” you whimpered, near to tears with how close you were to climaxing, “Peter please,”

“What is it princess? You want to cum? Is that it?”

You nodded quickly, “Please,”

“Go ahead princess,” he grinned, smashing his lips against your to swallow your moans as you came on his thigh, your hips moving in slow strokes to prolong the feeling. You pulled away after a few moments of feverish kissing, your arms falling limp around his shoulders.

“Fuck,” you sighed, your forehead falling against his with the breathless laugh, “That was-”

“Great? Amazing? The best experience of your life?” he laughed, falling back against the mattress, pulling you down with him. You giggled, shoving your face in his neck and inhaling his comforting scent.

“Yeah,” you turned your head to face him, pouting when a piece of his hair fell in front of his stunning eyes. You moved it out of his face, kissing his nose in the process, “I liked it a lot,”

“That’s good, that’s good,” he whispered, tightening his arms around you.

All of a sudden you felt something poke at the inside of your thigh. It took you a few moments to realise that he was hard and was probably aching to get off at this point in the night.

“Do- do you want me to help?” you said shyly, sitting up on your hands to fully face him.

“You don't have to princess,” his hands passed up and down your waist, “Seeing you fall apart from my thigh is all I needed tonight,”

The twitch of his eye and dryness of his lips told you otherwise.

“Are you sure?” you bit your lip, moving your hand slowly down to his hard on, “because I don’t mind helping Petey,”

You didn’t know where the nickname came from but it was too late to take it back. Judging by the dark look in his eyes and the almost cynical look on his face he didn’t mind.

“You want to help me princess? Are you sure you know what you’re in for?”

You shook your head eagerly, “Just tell me what you want,”

“And what if i want you to suck my cock?”

“I would do it,”

“Do what?”

“Su- suck your cock,” you replied bashfully looking down at your hands now intertwined on his stomach.

“Aww, is my princess getting shy?” he fake pouted, “After getting off on my thigh like a slut, you’re getting shy about taking me in your mouth?”

“I-”

“It’s alright princess i’ll guide you through it,” he reached down to unzip his jeans, shuffling awkwardly to push them down so he could get his member out. You watched as his hard dick slapped against his chest, big and throbbing.

He moved your hips back so that you straddled his legs this time, taking your hand and raising it to your mouth.

“Spit,” he instructed, looking up at you with hunger, “Now,”

You hesitantly spit into your hand, watching in awe as the wad fell into your hand.

“Good girl,” he sighed, moving your hand to wrap your small finger around the base of his cock, “Have you ever jerked someone off princess?”

“Just two,” you respond hesitantly.

Peter gritted his teeth, trying to get the idea of you touching anyone else out of his mind, “Well let's make this your third and final guy hmm?” his breath hitched when you started to move your hand up and down his cock, “You’re mine now princess,”

In the spur of the moment you leaned down, licking the red tip of his member, “Only yours,” you whispered before taking him halfway in your mouth, gagging and pulling yourself back up.

“Take your time princess,” he gulped, “fuck but you could do that again if you’d like though,”

You giggled, licking and kissing the sides of his cock and taking it once more, reaching further than this time than you did the last. You bobbed your head continuously only raising your head to take a breath and going in again.

“Fuck princess, I knew your mouth would be good,” he groaned, “You’re doing so well, taking my cock so good down your throat, fuck!”

You smiled around his length, the back of your throat contracting around the tip making him moan your name. Before he could praise you even more, someone's voice cut his words off.

“Everything alright in there?” MJ said through the door but you were too lost in your daze to answer or recognise her voice.

“Yeah, we’re good,” Peter smirked, pushing you to take the rest of his cock, “We’re just going to take longer than expected,”

...

Part two maybe??

Permanent Taglist : @jadegill @joyleenl @sarcastic-sunset-7@wakeupandsmellthelavender @kaithezaftig @theliterarymess @thirstiestpotato @i-love-superhero @lovewolfspirit @lowkey-holland @miltifandoms1019

Peter Parker Taglist : @ietss @itscaminow @dummiesshort @seutarose @cebaratn16 @lanceyfancypants @clara-licht @sadassflatass @usuck @yeah-seems-legit @lolasm0nst3r

Crossed out means i couldn't tag :(

#peter parker #peter parker smut #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x reader #frat!peter #fratboy!peter #peter parker x you #peter parker x y/n #fratboy!peter paker x reader #marvel smut #marvel imagine #tom holland smut

1K notes · View notes