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bluerosefox · 4 months

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Our Well Deserved Break

Its

Shenanigans (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

Time again!~

-x-x-

Danny, our boy the Ghost King, looking over a small team going over relic's given or 'offered' to Pariah Dark over the years both before and after he was sealed away. As they're taking inventory of the chaotic offering room, they stumble across a certain artifact.

This artifact is able to summon a set number of people (it does have its limits) of the users wishes to them and it sets up a barrier around the surrounding place so no one summoned gets out. You know, those kinds of artifact's certain people use to summon heroes and or villains into a room and have them fight to see whose the strongest or for a tournament, Yeah that kind of artifact!

Danny, who found the item, takes a look at after being told what it does. Then out of the corner of his eye he spots himself in a mirror in the room and see's his crown floating above his head and feels the full weight of his responsibility since before and after his crowning. Yes he had help with his advisor, despite how cryptid he can be at times, and of his council but still the weight was a bit too much for a teenager like him.

An idea struck his mind when he hears the ticking of a clock behind him. Without saying a word Danny looks back and raises an eyebrow at Clockwork whose staring at him in silence as well. He glances at the item, tilts his head a bit before...

Smiles in only the way CW knows would both be good for Danny and amusing for him. He nods and says "One weekend should be fine. All timelines will be paused for them. I suggest telling your friends to help prepare for your guests. Enjoy and have fun my King."

"YES!" Danny's voice echoing in the offering room made many ghosts in the room jump for a bit.

This was totally going to be fun!

-x-x-

When the following weekend arrived, young and very stressed teen heroes from across the multiverse are suddenly pulled from their worlds and are summoned into the Infinite Realms. Before any of them can panic or start fights a voice rang out above them and when they looked they could see a young teen, with a crown floating above his head, white hair, and glowing green eyes sitting on a throne.

He smiled and said

"Welcome fellow stressed out Heroes and Heroines to Phantom's Keep! I'm King Phantom, recently crowned fifteen year old, and this is the Infinite Realms! The birth and ending of the multiverse afterlife! Now don't worry none of you are dead or anything like that. I summoned you all here for one reason and one reason only..."

Here Danny paused, just to troll a tiny bit, and could see some of the more tense heroes readying up for a fight or at least argue to let them go. He grinned though and then said.

"And thats.... TO HAVE FUN!"

After that he floated out of his throne and with a flourish in the air he waved his hands and his throne room changed with party decor all around. Tables off to the side appeared with food and drinks from well everywhere and anywhere the multiverse, balloons rose from the ground and floated upwards, streamers flew across above to attach themselves to the other sides, the castle lights shifted to a dim and music began playing from somewhere.

Danny grinned brightly down at them and their shocked faces. oh that's funny, thank goodness Tucker is recording this and Jazz is gonna scrapbook this party for him (she plans on making them for all the guests as a party gift later, you know to remember how fun the party was)

"Now all of you are stressed out teen heroes with a lot of responsibilities on their shoulders! Believe me, I know that feeling, been there done that still doing it even now! But! My advisor says this will be both fun for me and good for you guys to spend one whole weekend here to de-stress and have fun! I do have some ground rules though. One your timelines are in fact PAUSED, you don't have to worry about calling your parents or if you got mentors to let them know where you are at. Two you are all heroes here, many of you are from different worlds and if you are from the same world they already know or CAN be trusted with your real identities but you are NOT required to remove any masks or de-transform or anything like that, if you wish there are masks on that green table over there you can stick on if you want to keep your identities hidden and are spelled to stay on and fuzz the minds of anyone trying to remember your looks once its on, even if they catch a good look at you right now it'll fuzz their memories of you once the mask is on and even after the party don't worry we thought of the time. Three, boys and girls rooms will be at different wings within the Keep! Just ask any of the maid or butler ghosts that will be joining us shortly and they will guide you to the rooms! Fourthly! There are sparing rooms if you wanna test your strengths with others, I only ask please don't get too carried away. We are here to have fun not make enemies! and lastly PLEASE DO NOT try to leave the castle, we are in the very afterlife of the multiverse people, its like the ocean and even I find it hard to navigate it sometimes. Portals can open up to any and all worlds, different timelines, etc etc. I have key items here in the castle that can pinpoint YOUR timeline and world so when the party is over I can send you home no problem, so again please do not attempt to leave."

Danny paused to take a breath, okay ground rules set up and warnings given. He could see the absolute bewildered looks on all the heroes faces and held back a laugh. He smiled however when one of the teens, mask on his face already and dressed in green, yellow, and red asked 'Why?'

"Why? Well... I think its time us teens get to have some fun without worrying about the next big bad or world ending event. Even if just for a weekend, we do deserve a break. So... Lets have some fun for once!" Danny responded.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #dp x dc #blue rambles #crossover #writing ideas #random idea #danny phantom dc #dpxdc #well hints of dpxdc #still putting it under it though because yeah totally would summon Robin #which Robin? eh anyone of them I guess #Danny uses a relic meant to pull people for tournaments and uses it for a party instead #CW gave his blessing cause he knows it'll both be good for Danny and fun for him to watch #the Heroes pulled can be from ANY worlds #all crossovers are welcomed #he knows the stress of being a teen hero #and wants other teen heroes have a weekend to de-stress #Jazz thinks it'll be a good thing for Danny too #let her brother have some teen fun for once #Sam and Tucker are helping out keeping everything going smoothly #and they get to have fun as well #CW and Danny's council are keeping the normal annoyances away from Danny for now #LET THEM HAVE FUN #o(*￣▽￣*)o

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gucciwins · 1 month

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Harry is in awe of his girlfriend

A/N: something short and sweet while I work on other stories.

Y/N loved her students.

It was obvious by all the care she put into her classroom. She got help every year to set it up with a new theme. The motivational posters, the reading chart decorated with her student’s doodles. Every detail in her room tells a story. It’s her second year, but Y/N knows it is something she wanted to do. The impact she is making may not be seen now, but years down the line they’ll see it started during their time in school.

Y/N was in charge of planting the seed, she knew she didn’t always get to see the flower flourish.

This week, Y/N had students invite parents to read the children a book of their choice. Y/N had many parents come, it allowed for the student to show off their parent during this time. It reminded her of when her dad made time out of his busy schedule to come in for her.

Today, Harry was coming in to support his niece as he loved being involved. He was eager too because Harry knew Isabela was in her class. Of course, there was no special treatment but Isabela did get to enjoy lunch with her some days.

Harry got here early, and entered the classroom quietly as to not disturb the class but Y/N noticed him. He took a seat at her back table knowing he’d have to wait until they were home to have all her undivided attention.

“My friends, you’re all doing great. I know math is not our favorite but I appreciate the volunteers that wanted to come up. You can always come to me during for support. ” Y/N knows what it was like to be anxious in class not knowing if it was okay to ask for extra help. She goes over a few math problems, allowing the students to asks questions.

From the back of the room, Harry sees how Y/N manages to make every student feel seen and heard. Not once does she raise her voice to get their attention, the class stays focused on her every word and Harry is in awe. He always knew Y/N was good at her job but seeing it in person was something different.

Y/N had always been a kind soul, he knew that from the moment he met her. Yet in the classroom it seemed as if she only became more open, softer he’d like to say.

People go in look of their true calling, some find it in dancing or art sometimes never at all but he can say that Y/N found her gift in people. More specifically students. She was helping our future genteration grow and that is something he will always be proud of. Harry decides to text her to share all the joy he’s feeling seeing Y/N flutter around teaching her students.

Harry

You are so pretty.

Your room feels safe and comforting.

You are amazing. I’m in awe of you.

I love you.

Harry knows she won’t see it until lunch time and he’s okay with that for now he’ll remain admiring his girlfriend.

“Now, I’ve got a special guest here today,” Y/N gestures to Harry to stand and make his way next to her. He does so while giving Isabela a small wave. “This is Mr. Styles.”

“Hi Mr. Styles,” the class greets in unison.

“Hello, thank you for welcoming me into your class. I’m Isabela’s uncle.”

Isabela cheers, rushing over to give her uncle a hug after Y/N gives her the okay. “Now friends, let’s remember to be respectful to Mr. Styles. While he gets settled in, why don’t we sit criss cross applesauce on the carpet.”

The children begin to file in, careful not to push each other making sure they sit next to their friends. While Harry reads the title of the bookY/N walks over to her desk. She checks the time on her phone when she catches a glimpse of Harry’s text. Y/N turns her head to see if he’s watching her but finds him deep into the story, using a new voice for each character. The students are hanging on to his every word. Y/N knew Harry was happy to be here to support her. She felt the outpouring of his love from the moment he walked in.

Yeah, Y/N was lucky to have him.

this was the inspiration behind the story

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles au #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fluff #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic rec #harry styles one shot

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httpsserene · 5 months

Text

𝖍𝖙𝖙𝖕𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖊𝖓𝖊’𝖘 1𝖐 𝖘𝖕𝖊𝖈𝖎𝖆𝖑 - 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝖑𝖎𝖒𝖎𝖙𝖘

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐝𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨: 𝐫𝐞𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫

summary: slightly less innocent, virgin!reader has had her view of pleasure shifted. her libido has increased to insane levels after she finally allowed her boyfriends to fix her…dry spell. charles and max have no issues with helping her ride out her newfound sexual appetite, and figure that she may be ready to take the next step. or, more accurately, take the next hand. content warning: 18+ only. explicit. no penetrative sex. corruption kink. handjobs. thigh riding. praise kink. dom/sub undertones. charles leclerc is a brat. orgasm denial. there's smidge of humor in here somewhere i think. slight humiliation kink. word count: 4.2k words pairing: charles leclerc / max verstappen x fem!black!reader soundtrack: gun • doja cat

preface: AHHHH OMG I HAD THIS IN MY QUEUE AND THE DATE WAS 9/12 INSTEAD OF 12/9 I WAS IN THE WOODS WITH SPOTTY CONNECTION ALL DAY AND I HAVE TBLR NOTIFICATIONS OFF ON MY PHONE I AM SO SORRY I HOPE YOU ALL LIKE IT! ALL FUTURE EPISODES WILL BE POSTED AT 12 PM ON THEIR RELEASE DAYS!

prev 1k special join taglist feedback & requests table of contents next ↻

it’s laughable. you can’t believe that you almost bought a vibrator instead of telling your boyfriends that you were ready to start the sexual aspect of your relationship. actually, it kind of makes you mad—you could’ve been experiencing the most mind blowing levels of pleasure years ago, if you had just gotten over your own insecurity.

max and charles had been dating each other for a couple years before they found you. you were a friend-of-a-friend-of-a-friend, and they were enamored with you as soon as they were introduced. you cringe whenever they reminisce over the first time you met them—the men think it’s the cutest first meeting ever.

they met you on a yacht in monaco. an older member of the ferrari team was retiring and decided to have a relaxed celebratory brunch on a chartered yacht. charles, of course, would be attending; he’s sure he’s most likely contractually obligated to go, but he also enjoys going to these sorts of events, he flourishes and thrives in social settings. however, on this particular day, max and charles had already planned for a date.

when charles had been forwarded the invitation from andrea (his trainer), who had texted him threats of bodily harm if he didn’t show up—he whined and groveled to max about having to reschedule their date. max had shushed charles’ dramatics, and simply pulled out his phone to show a text thread between him and brad (his trainer), who sent him the invitation to the yacht party. charles made a noise of surprise; this brunch is more relaxed than he thought. max shrugged and pressed a kiss to charles cheek–all they have to do is make an appearance, greet who needs to be greeted, congratulate who needs to be congratulated, and then they can sneak away and leave early for their date.

that was the plan. and everything seemed to be going according to the plan. they had boarded the vessel (nobody knew the rivals had come together), everyone assumed they had just arrived at the same time. they quickly congratulated the retiree, and charles separated from max to go and charm everybody on the boat, while max had gone to take advantage of the brunch spread.

the dutchman was halfway through his second plate of finger food when charles had returned to his side, bringing their trainers and a few engineers along with him. the monegasque was stealing bites of food off his plate, and max gently tapped on the face of his richard mille watch to remind charles that they needed to start wrapping up.

except, joris had just boarded the yacht—and you were at his side.

charles choked on his bite of stolen food, and max distractedly patted his back to clear his airways. it was like time slowed down, their vision tunneled, and the noise of conversations around them quieted; at the sight of you. you were wearing this light, flowy, orange sundress that complimented your warm brown skin, accessorized with gold jewlery, a pair of heeled tan sandals, and your curly hair was free and blowing in the breeze. you kept your gaze lowered, like you were fearing making eye contact with anybody on board, and you turned to slightly hide behind joris as you frantically whispered to him.

charles and max had decided then and there; they need to know you.

you had parted from joris at the sound of someone calling for you and the sight of you walking away, broke the trance the two drivers had been under.

when charles’ friend made his way over, they were quick to interrogate him about you, and why exactly he’s never introduced you to them before. joris threatened them before he gave them permission to pursue you (not that they needed it), and refused to answer any of their questions about you. he told them to go talk to you, and warned them to be gentle with you—as you have a more shy and introverted personality. it took nearly thirty minutes for charles and max to find where you disappeared too. you were chatting to the retiree, and as soon as you wrapped up the conversation—max inserted himself in your path, and ‘accidentally’ bumped into you.

you stumbled briefly, finding yourself bumping into charles as well. you frantically apologized to the two drivers, eyes wide with embarrassment—and max and charles found themselves vehemently reassuring you that it was their fault, and that you don’t need to apologize.

once you calmed, max started to test the waters.

“it was completely my fault. i should’ve been paying more attention to where i was walking but, i got distracted—because you look too beautiful in this dress.”

your mouth parted in surprise and you giggled awkwardly, not expecting the compliment (charles had to muffle his snort, max is incredibly corny), “oh! thank you—it’s really the dress that’s beautiful.”

the monegasque stepped in, “ah, no that cannot be. the dress only compliments how pretty you are.”

you hummed, eyes flickering between the two of them nervously, and caved to their flattery.

“mmm, thank you…the orange works with my skin tone pretty well.”

“it does,” max agreed with a soft smile, “i must be your favorite driver—since, you’ve dressed in dutch orange.”

your eyes widened, as you giggled at his bold claim, laughing harder when charles’ pretends to be angry at max’s words. the couple watches as your smile shifted from something sweet, to something teasing as you fumbled over what to say in response.

“oh? well, if i did dress for my favorite driver, it would be lando norris. because, this color is more similar to papaya than your dutch orange.”

max scoffed, and charles bursted out laughing—the two of them not expecting the teasing from you, based on how joris led them to believe that you were the shyest thing to walk on earth.

that interaction had completely cemented their urge to date you. they ended up staying at the yacht party, just talking to you the entire time, enjoying making you blush and fluster, flirting around the limits of how much affection you could take from them. they missed their dinner reservation, but found themselves taking you out to dinner somewhere near the waterfront.

at the end of the night, you exchanged phone numbers with them and they sweetly told you that they’d reach out to you for a second date. you had made a noise of surprise, completely disbelieving that you were on a date, or that they’d want to see you again. but, charles and max were quick to make their intentions clear as they realized they may have been moving too quickly for you.

you can’t believe that was over two years ago. the boys had been so kind with working hard for your trust, and with a final conversation about how this relationship would work—you had agreed to be their girlfriend. of course, you had your stipulation of not being ready to have sex, but the boys did take that in stride and didn’t try to coerce you into changing that boundary. matter of fact, they had even offered to stop having sex between the two of them if it made you uncomfortable—which you disagreed with on the spot; they didn’t need to limit their actions with each other just because you needed extra time.

and extra time, ended up being two years. charles and max had waited two years without complaining once, about the fact that you still weren’t ready to have sex with them. apparently, the final aspects that you needed to realize you were ready to have sex were: being unable to get yourself off for a month while they were in the midst of a triple header…and also that, you trust them with your entire soul.

and goddamn, did their patience result in a valuable reward.

ever since max and charles had cured your dry spell by giving you the most life-changing orgasm from riding max’s thigh, you’ve been insatiable.

it’s like your horny-meter was struck by lightning and was overloaded and stuck at the highest setting—it feels like a perpetual ovulation week. it feels like you can’t look at max’s thighs without getting wet, it feels like you can’t hold charles’ hand without your knees buckling. it wasn’t like you were never horny before the thigh-riding incident (max finds the title hilarious), but to be consistently desperate—you’ve never felt like this before. it’s like the monegasque and the dutchman have awoken your sex drive and shifted it into high gear. your libido has been so insanely high that the men have pretty much offered themselves to you as free-use.

you wake up horny? choose your fighter: charles’ thigh or max’s thigh. you get turned on by charles kissing your cheek? ride his thigh. your tummy knots up when max calls you pretty girl? ride his thigh. your panties get wet when charles comes back from getting a haircut? ride his thigh. your clothes fall off when max smiles at you? ride his thigh. your brain turns to mush when charles and max make out? ride their thighs, twice.

you’ve been so pleasure-crazed that you ended up getting a friction burn from how often you were using their thighs.

you whimpered in shame as charles rubbed aloe vera on the irritated skin between your legs.

“vior (see)?” charles said to max, who was sitting on the bed next to you holding your hand, “she has sensitive skin—we should not have let her use our thighs so often.”

“ah,” max dismissed, ignoring your mortified whine, he smirked at charles, “she’s just learned how good we can make her feel—forgive her desperation, schatje?”

charles lightly presses on the inflamed skin, and you slightly hiss in pain. he stares at max with an unimpressed expression,

“and now feeling good too often has her feeling bad, non?”

charles resumed his gentle massage of aloe vera, as he continued to bicker with max about you, like you weren’t lying right there. mortification had the melanated skin of your cheeks flushing with a visible blush, and you muffled your embarrassed whimper into max’s thigh. the humiliation of your boyfriends discussing your barely-sex related injury as if you aren’t present should have been horny-level reduction material—but secretly, you enjoyed it; just a little bit.

with a pained gasp, you slammed your thighs shut around charles’ hand when he passed over a more seriously-raw area of skin. his hand was forced up, and it brushed firmly against your cunt—and that previously pained gasp transformed into a moan of pleasure. the conversation around you silenced abruptly. you kept your eyes tightly shut, refusing to pull away from the safe haven of max’s thigh. you heard charles laugh disbelievingly, and with his free hand he easily pulled your thighs apart with little effort. the casual show of strength only had you getting wet.

he made a show of flexing the hand that was entrapped between your thighs, before he dropped two of his fingers on top of your panties and guided them to circle over your clit through the thin cloth. your eyes flew open, and with a squeal your hips bucked up to chase his hand; but he was too quick, and pulled away, using that same hand to hold your hips down on the bed.

“you’re so horny that you completely forgot about the friction-burn you have on your thighs from your previously extremely horny activities,” max deadpanned, staring down at you with a blank expression.

“i can’t help it,” you murmured shyly, “sorry.”

“don’t apologize,” max stated, releasing his grasp of your hand to brush his thumb across your cheek, “nothing’s touching your cunt for a week.”

“huh? WHAT? why? no—why not?” you blurted out in confusion, ignoring charles’ snort.

“liefje—you could barely handle charles rubbing the gel into your skin; you are too sore and inflamed. no pillows, no hands, no thighs.”

you humphed, knowing max is right, but not wanting to admit it.

“that’s torture! i just started getting to experience real pleasure and now i can’t even cum for a week?!” you whined up at max with pleading eyes.

“you went without using our thighs for two years—you can handle a week, mon coeur,” charles patted your hip with an annoying smile, before he climbed off the bed to put the gel away.

“charles, don’t tease her,” max sighed, “it’s just a week, pretty girl. you’ll be fine.”

you are not fine.

it’s the slowest time has ever passed in your entire life. honestly, the nerve of your boyfriends to have beautifully muscled thighs around you. you’ve been put in horny jail–seriously! the two men seem to have a radar for whenever you start to get turned on. no matter how hard you try to suppress any changes in your body language or facial expression, they sus you out in a few seconds. it’s uncanny; before you even open your mouth to try and persuade them into anything, they squish your cheeks together and say, “not yet,” and then walk away to give you space to calm down. every instance of this in the first couple of days was more mortifying than the aloe-vera gel application situation (which max now applies for you since charles couldn’t refrain from teasing you), but you quickly became desensitized.

max will not budge. he lets you whine, grovel, beg, promise, and plead. he sits through your whole monologue of desperation on day four, and smiles the entire time. when you finish your expertly delivered request to be allowed one orgasm from his thigh, he pats you on the ass and walks away. the amount of rage that filled you was probably unhealthy–how the fuck does he manage to be so unfazed?

charles, on the other hand, you could break. on day five, you trapped him in bed, sneakily convincing him to spend five more minutes with you while max brushed his teeth. you were quick to initiate sweet kisses, humming into the press of his lips, before you pull away and squirm on top of him to straddle his torso.

the love-tinted haze cleared from his eyes as soon a he puzzled out your motive, and the monegasque moved to guide you off his body, but you halted him, pressing a firm hand in the middle of his bare chest.

“c’mon cha–just let me, it’s been so long,” you pout down at him, doe-eyes wide and pleading, “don’t you wanna make me feel good?”

charles wavered–it has been so long. he doesn’t think he’d forget how your face looks as you orgasm, but it would be nice to see it again. you slowly grind your hips down on his, and charles manages to hold back any noises, but his eyes flutter in pleasure. the brunet halts your hips when he sees the brief flicker of discomfort appear in the furrow of your brows.

“ah, regarde toi (look at you)!” charles tuts disapprovingly, “you know you aren’t ready, just wait a little longer!”

you climb off of his lap, and bury your face in the pillow next to him, muffling a dramatic scream to make sure he knows how displeased you are. he rubs your back soothingly, letting you release your anger, before you flip over and huff.

“fine–whatever. two more days. two more days…for me,” you murmur, ignoring charles’ squint at your words, “just because i can’t do anything doesn’t mean you two can’t, right?”

charles shrugs his agreement, “yes, i guess. we haven’t came since you can’t. we were just planning to wait for your skin to recover.”

your heart warms at their abstinence, and the gears of your brain start turning.

“hmm. you know you don’t have to wait for me? i kind of got myself into this situation and it’s not fair for–”

“no. max and i are both responsible too,” charles cut you off, “we should’ve taken more care to make sure you weren’t pushing yourself too far.”

“i don’t blame you guys–i was jumping the two of you everytime you so much as breathed in the same room as me. but, that’s not the point! i was going to say: shouldn’t i thank you guys properly?”

“quoi? how?” he tilted his head to the side in question.

“i mean, isn’t it time i learn how to make you feel good too? i’ve kind of taken advantage of you, and never thought about making sure you guys feel good, like me.”

“how can you say that, mon amour? you make us feel good everytime we make you feel good,” charles sees that you don’t quite believe him, “you don’t notice how tight our pants get when you sit on our thighs? after you’ve finished, we sneak away to the bathroom to relieve ourselves! trust me, we feel very good with you.”

“hey! that’s my point–i want to make you guys…cum,” you whispered, “not have you sneak away to go do it yourself. can’t you teach me? isn’t now the best time for me to learn when i can’t be distracted by my own orgasm?”

“as long as you avoid rubbing yourself on anything, i’m actually okay with this,” max’s voice carried from the doorway, causing you and charles to jump in surprise. neither of you heard him open the en-suite door.

the dutchman walked over and sat on the bed next to charles, who eagerly supported your suggestion now that max said it was okay.

“c-can…can we do it now?” you asked quietly, simultaneously afraid of a possible rejection and the idea itself.

the younger man hummed, and sat up next to max. he smirked at the blonde, “i’m sure he can’t say no to the opportunity of having me teach you how to touch him just the way he likes.”

you may have miscalculated, to some degree. does everything about max have to big? big mouth, big hands, big thighs, big…dick. your brain stops functioning at the sight—max sitting with his back against the headboard, legs spread open comfortably, uncaring of how exposed he is, his cock half-hard and still growing where it rests on his thigh, and don’t forget his self-satisfied smirk at the sight of your shock. you squirm from your seat in between his legs and charles steadies you from his position behind you, bracketing your body within the two of them.

the monegasque shifts forward, hooking his chin on your shoulder with his chest pressed along your back, and hums softly, “all of that ,” charles pauses and moves his right hand to apply pressure on your navel, “is going to be deep inside of you soon.”

“ ‘s not gonna fit in me.”

“we’ll make it fit,” max states. you whimpered at his confident tone, and you could feel charles muffle his chuckle in the crook of your neck.

the click of the lube bottle opening caused you to flinch back into charles, who soothed you with a pat on the hip. the brunet carefully squeezed out a small amount of lube into your right palm and murmured instructions for you to warm up the liquid. he then guided your hand to grasp max’s dick, who sighed softly at your touch.

“touch him however you want, mon ange,” the monegasque directed, “get used to how he feels and then we can make him feel good.”

swallowing down your apprehension, you lightly trace a finger down his shaft, marveling at how he’s a few of your fingers in girth and decently longer than the size of your hand (that’s definitely not fitting inside of you, they have no idea what they’re talking about). you drag the tip of your pointer finger up along the vein on his underside to the head of his cock. the tip is flushed with an attractive shade of pink complimenting the pale skin of his body, and it’s a beautiful contrast to the brown skin on the back of your hand. you wrap your palm around him gently and brush your thumb over the head, making a noise of surprise at his cock twitching in your grasp. a drop of pre-cum beads in the slit and you curiously drag a finger to collect it; you pause, before you bring your finger to your mouth and flick out your tongue to taste it.

it almost tastes like nothing? slightly bitter, a little salty—but, it’s good. he tastes good.

max groans and the sound of his head falling back and hitting the headboard reminds you that the cock you’re feeling up is attached to him.

a broken rasp of, “fuck,” slips from his lips, and charles kisses your cheek in approval.

“ah-you’re so good at this already, mon amour,” charles cheered, “let’s give him a hand, together.”

he brings his left hand around your body to join yours around max’s, and leads you through the motions. he starts you on half strokes, having you circle your hand around the head, while he focuses on mimicking your motions around the base. you can see the muscles of max’s abdomen and thighs clenching with the effort of not thrusting forward into your hand.

“shit,” max moans, “the two of you will be the death of me.”

charles nips a mark right behind you ear, “move your hand like this—oui, just like that—and press your palm around the head—good girl—just keep doing that for me, mon amor.”

max groans roughly at the focused attention on the sensitive tip of his dick; he’s going to come embarrassingly quickly. the sight of charles teaching you how to give him a proper handjob is going to keep him up at night.

“liefje, you’re doing such a good job,” max pants, “going to make come already, pretty girl—are you going to lick my cum off your fingers too?”

you moan highly at his words, nodding your head quickly in agreement, eager to keep being good for him. max continues to run his mouth as he gets closer to orgasm: ‘you and charles should taste the cum off your hand together,’ ‘he can’t wait to get his hands and mouth on you,’ etc.

with a stuttered breath, max warns you that he’s cumming—and charles yanks your hand off of him; ruining max’s orgasm. the dutchman shouts in frustration, his hips bucking up freely now, trying to chase the delicious friction that was stolen from him.

with flushed cheeks, max yells, “what the fuck, charles!” and you turn to look at charles, who’s sitting behind you with an extra-pleased smirk on his face. the brat shrugs nonchalantly, not offering an explanation. you bring your hand back to grasp max’s cock—and repeat the same motion of twisting your palm around the head, to lead max back to an orgasm. he moans in relief, thankfully the edge of release didn’t slip away from him entirely—and then you bring your other hand up to make up for charles’.

all it takes is a few more synced strokes, and max cums. you feel the warmth of his release coat your fingers, but your eyes are stuck on his expression. his mouth parted slightly, eyes shut, his chest heaving, mouth red and flushed from where he was biting at his bottom lip, and you can see the pleasure washing over his face—goddamn, you wish you were feeling what he is. in the haze of appreciating how he looks when he comes, you fail to stop your hands from continuing your motions and max’s hands fly down to halt you once the pleasure slips into too-much.

when he makes eye-contact with you, you raise your cum-covered hand to your mouth and make a show out of tasting his cum. you moan sweetly and smack your lips—honestly, you don’t particularly like or dislike the taste, but the way max’s eyes widen at your display makes you think you’ll learn to love it. he watches you lick your hands clean, and murmurs out a faint, “what the actual hell, liefje.”

“and, you,” the older man’s expression hardens as he directs his cold gaze on charles, “we’re not touching you for two weeks.”

“por quoi?!,” the monegasque pretends as if he doesn’t know exactly what he did.

you and max both ignore charles’ whining, and you smile extra sweetly at max as you wiggle onto his lap, “may i use your thigh, please?”

he digs his thumb into the sensitive skin of your thigh, and you yelp lightly.

“two more days, liefje,” max orders, “and if you’re patient, you can have more than just my thigh.”

1k special taglist: @saintslewis @cherry2stems @lorarri @inloveallthetime @mindless-rock @biancathecool@barnestatic @my-ylenia @katekipshidze @darleneslane @lovingaphroditesworld @smoothopz @vetteltea @dreamingofautopia @jayswifee @megatrilss1885 @nanamilkbread @sophia12345678 @benstormy @userlandonorris@xxniallxxsworld @starfusionsworld@hangmandruigandmav @spicybagel14 @ggaslyp1 @idontgotopartiesanymore @woozarts @yourlilitha @smartstupyd

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alessiasfreckles · 2 months

Text

Advantage - Part 2 (Leah Williamson x reader)

A couple weeks after you and Leah confessed your feelings for each other, Leah decided it was time to take you on a proper date.

warnings: none!

a/n: could have sworn i had an ask requesting part 2 where they go on a date but i can't find it so here it is anyway!! hope you enjoy!

part 1 here

————

You took a deep breath and wiped your clammy hands on your jeans. There was nothing to be nervous about. Nothing at all, really.

It was just a date. A date with Leah, who you’d been crushing on ever since joining Arsenal a year ago. Leah, who you’d kissed for the first time and admitted your feelings for just the other week.

You were officially healthy enough to be back at training full time, which meant that Leah had decided you were now healthy enough for her to take you on a real date. You didn’t know why you were so nervous. It was established that the two of you liked each other, you��d kissed multiple times by now (you had quickly discovered that Leah enjoyed pulling you into empty rooms and broom closets and kissing you so hard your knees went weak, and then leaving you there with a cheeky wink and a grin), and the two of you had been friends since you’d joined. So there really was nothing to be nervous about.

Still, you couldn’t stop the churning in your stomach as you waited by your front door for her to pick you up. The plan was for the two of you to go to a park and have a picnic. Leah had insisted on planning everything, saying that all you needed to do was “be your usual amazing self”.

As you checked your phone for the time, and to see if there were any messages from her, your mind started racing. What were the two of you going to talk about for the whole time? What if you got food stuck in your teeth? What if-

Your train of thought was interrupted by the doorbell ringing, making you jump. Taking another deep breath, you opened the door to find Leah holding a bouquet, her cheeks pink.

“Hi,” she smiled.

“Hey,” you said, all your worries melting away at the sight of her.

“Um, these are for you,” she said, holding the bouquet out towards you. “I was going to give you them when we had the picnic, but I realised it makes more sense for you to have them now so you can put them in a vase with water, y’know?”

You laughed, taking them. “Leah, they’re beautiful, thank you.”

“Beautiful flowers for a beautiful girl,” she winked, making you blush.

You quickly put the flowers in a vase. When you approached her car, Leah hurried ahead of you and opened the door for you with a flourish. You rolled your eyes fondly, but thanked her all the same, your heart skipping a beat at how sweet she was being.

She casually placed a hand on your thigh as she drove, squeezing gently, the soft touch making your breath catch. There was really no need for you to have been worried.

---------

“Please tell me you didn’t just buy a picnic basket for this,” you giggled when she produced an old-fashioned basket from the boot of her car.

“I can neither confirm nor deny,” she said sheepishly, tucking a blanket under her arm. “Picnic first, or walk first?”

“Hmm,” you thought for a minute, then laughed when Leah’s tummy let out a loud rumble. “Picnic first, I think.”

“Sounds good to me. Come on, I know the perfect spot,” she said, taking one of your hands in hers. You couldn’t help but notice the way your hands fit together so perfectly, and the way her thumb brushed the back of your hand, making the skin tingle.

It didn’t take long for you to reach the picnic spot. Leah was right, it was perfect - a grassy area by a pond, with patches of wildflowers on either side.

“Wow,” you breathed out softly, making the blonde smile.

When the two of you were settled on the blanket, Leah opened the basket, revealing it to be stocked full of goodies, snacks, and various picnic items, enough to feed at least 4 people.

“Damn,” you laughed. “Anyone else joining us? I think we’ve got enough to feed a small army here.”

She laughed bashfully. “Better to have too much than too little, eh?”

For a moment you sat in silence. You were trying so hard to think of something interesting to say that you didn’t notice Leah watching you, her eyes taking in your features, the way you were biting your lip absentmindedly.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone under 50 say that,” you teased, laughing.

“You calling me old?” she grinned. “You looked like you were deep in thought.”

You sighed, a little embarrassed at how much you were stressing about things like just talking to her. “It’s nothing, I just… I was trying to think of something interesting to say,” you admitted, looking down at your hands to avoid looking at the blonde.

“Everything you say is interesting,” Leah said, taking one of your hands.

“Yeah, right,” you said, rolling your eyes with a smile. “No, I dunno, it’s just, we’ve been friends for so long, and I’ve wanted this for a long time, and I’m scared to mess it up, I suppose. And like, I never had to think about what to say to you before, so I don’t know why I’m worrying about it now.”

She was quiet for a minute. “I know what you mean. I was really nervous about this, if I’m honest. I spent a few minutes just sat in the car, parked outside yours, trying to give myself a pep talk to get the confidence to go and ring the doorbell.”

“Really?” you asked, incredulous. The thought of Leah being just as nervous about the date as you felt absurd - she was so incredible, and you were just, well, you.

“Mhm,” she nodded, smiling shyly. “I’m really scared of messing things up, to be honest. You’re really important to me.”

You couldn’t hide your smile. “You’re really important to me,” you said, cheeks pink.

“Good,” Leah grinned. “Glad we got that cleared up. Now, I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. I was too nervous to eat anything this morning.”

Any initial awkwardness was long gone, and the two of you started eating, chatting away like you always did. You were so caught up in your conversation that neither of you noticed the sky gradually getting darker, not until the first fat raindrops started dropping. One landed on your nose, making you jump, then another on your sandwich, then another, then it was like the sky had opened up above you.

“Quick!” Leah exclaimed, jumping up and shoving things in the basket. “Back to the car!”

Carrying the blanket above you like a shield, the two of you ran back to where Leah had parked. Thankfully it wasn’t far, and you both tumbled into the car only slightly damp, dissolving into giggles. Once you’d both calmed down, Leah sighed, looking at the heavy rain out of the windshield.

“Bloody English weather,” she grumbled, shaking her head. “Just want to take a pretty girl on a date and can’t even have nice weather for that.”

“It’s okay,” you said, taking her hand and smiling softly. “We can have our picnic in here!”

“Yeah?” she grinned. “A car picnic. Not the most romantic, I guess, but it’ll do, ey?”

“Anything’s romantic when it’s with you,” you admitted, cheeks pink.

“You’re such a softie,” she giggled, leaning forward to kiss you. Her face was still slightly damp from the rain, and she shivered when you brought your hand up to cup her cheek.

“You taste like a ham sandwich,” you murmured as she pulled away.

“Oops, sorry,” she blushed.

“It’s okay,” you laughed, pulling her in for another kiss. “I don’t mind.”

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson fluff #woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #woso imagine #awfc #leah williamson fanfic #leah williamson imagine #hannah writes fics

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strangersatellites · 1 year

Text

It had all started in Photography 101.

All he had needed was one more elective added to his schedule for the fall semester to be considered a full-time student. It was Robin who had suggested photography.

Steve had never had that great of a memory to begin with, the numerous blows to the head from juvenile high school fights certainly doing him no favors. Sometimes the amount of time it took to jog Steve’s memory surpassed the time it would’ve taken to simply tell him the story as if he hadn’t been there himself.

He was always able to grasp the memory eventually, but sometimes they were slippery in his mind.

He and Robin had found that his memory was ten times better if he had something to look at. Sometimes that was a souvenir from a trip, sometimes it was a takeout menu with his order circled in red pen, sometimes it was a physical scar on his skin from some silly injury. But most of the time it was pictures.

Steve took to taking photos of everything. His friends, his food, the landscape, a book with a pretty cover, anything he wanted to be able to remember.

The walls of his room grew to be covered with polaroids and prints, some staged, most not. Many blurry and out of focus, but in the moment just the same.

So when Robin suggested Photography 101, Steve saw an opportunity to take something he did for his own benefit and turn it into something he really enjoyed, something he was good at.

The semester was a breeze and Steve flourished under the attention of his professor. He was constantly drowning in compliments about the movement in his photos and his eye for composition.

(Robin would tell him on several occasions that she had never seen him enjoy something this much.)

By the time the semester was coming to a close, he was left with one final project. The professor had been intentionally very vague in her description of it throughout the semester, so Steve was a little on edge.

Sitting in the front row of the small classroom, he twirled the strap of his camera around his fingers while he daydreamed. The room slowly filled and the professor settled in behind her desk.

About five minutes after class was supposed to have begun Steve noticed they were all still sitting in silence. Glancing at the professor he saw her brows furrow and a frustrated lilt to her lips as she looked at her watch.

What are we waiting for?

She stood and dusted off her pants before clapping her hands together.

“Well,” she began, “I guess we can go ahead and get start–”

The door at the back of the room swung open and knocked against the wall with a resounding slam.

“Shit! Fuck! So sorry I’m late. Traffic was a bitch.”

Steve is so caught off guard by the man who just burst into the room that he barely even registers the words he’s saying.

He’is tall and all lanky muscle, dark curls and jewelry, tattoos and the smell of smoke, chains and leather and everything Steve’s not. Everything nobody in this class is.

He’s even more caught off guard when his professor laughs and pulls the man into a tight hug. There are only five other students in this class, surely he’s not the only person confused.

He keeps an arm around her shoulders as she introduces him to the group.

“Guys, this is Eddie. He’s a family friend and he’s going to be your subject for your final project.”

Steve’s own eyebrows furrow as he tries to understand how this was the project she has been keeping under wraps. They’ve had plenty of portrait sessions this semester, with models and subjects of their choice alike.

The guy, Eddie, claps a hand to his chest in a dramatic show of faux humility.

“Thank you for having me, Joyce. It's such an honor to be here.”

She smacks at his arm and carries on.

“So, Eddie is your subject and you have no parameters. The only requirement is that he is the inspiration for your shoot. This can look like a standard portrait session, this can be contemporary urban street photography, whatever you like. Eddie does not even have to be in the photo! He just has to be the inspiration for it.”

Steve's brain is already running a mile a minute, conceptualizing shots faster than he can keep up.

Dingy bars, backseats of cars, details of his eclectic style.

But one idea sticks out from the rest. As Steve lifts his eyes to Eddie once more and meets his own twinkling with mirth and smirking back at him he makes his decision.

He’s going to take his mugshot.

*****

“I want to take your mugshot.”

They’re at the campus coffee shop. Joyce had scheduled a few hours for Eddie to meet with the other students during their class time so they could talk through their projects.

Eddie barks out a laugh. “What, man?”

Steve twirls his straw around his drink and tries not to bristle at the reaction.

“Look,” he starts, running a nervous hand through his hair, “I don’t really know where the idea originated but once I had it, it stuck. I just saw this vision of the shot in my head and it was sick, dude.”

Eddie leans back in the booth, one of his boots knocking into Steve’s foot under the table. He crosses his arms and tilts his head.

“Thought this shoot was supposed to be inspired by moi,” he says, gesturing a hand towards himself. “You saying I look like I should be in jail?”

Steve groans and puts his head in his hands. “No. I already told you I don't know where i got the idea–”

But that’s a lie isn’t it. He knows exactly where he got the idea. It was somewhere between the chains dangling from Eddie’s jeans and the handcuff belt he was wearing the day they met.

He put his hands together on the table between them. “Okay. No, I’m not saying you look like a criminal, Eddie. I’m saying I think you want to look like one.”

Eddie blinks at him for a moment before his face breaks into a slow smirk. He huffs a quiet laugh and leans closer. “Guilty as charged, Stevie. Besides, I was arrested once actually.”

Steve gawks while Eddie laughs. He is unfairly attractive when his dimples pop and Steve is going to have such a hard time holding it together behind the camera.

*****

Steve takes his shoots very seriously. Every detail has to be perfect, even the ones not relating to the subject of the photo.

So it is wildly convenient that his professor happens to be married to the chief of police back in Hawkins.

One quick phone call from Joyce and Steve and Eddie were granted access to the booking room at the police station. You know, for the sake of realism.

Steve’s setting up his tripod while Eddie takes a chalk marker to the placard and writes up his own booking ID, a long series of random numbers with E.M at the end.

Steve would be lying if he said Eddie’s choice of clothing wasn’t exactly what he’d had in mind.

He’s wearing a ratty, old band t-shirt for some group Steve’s never heard of. There’s his usual black leather jacket and the silver chain around his neck. His ripped black jeans and fingers covered in rings and black nail polish.

It's perfect for the shoot. But Steve’s sanity is struggling.

He gets the camera and the lighting set up just as Eddie steps into place in front of the height measurement wall.

Steve puts his hands on his hips and gives instructions.

“Okay, so I know you’ve done this before–”

“Hey! It was one time!”

“So you know how this goes. We’ll do one forward and then one to each side.”

Eddie shakes out his hair and rolls his shoulders back. He holds the placard up in front of him and levels the camera with a dead-eyed stare.

He looks good.

Steve is less than shocked that he looks even better on camera.

He lines up his shot. Click.

Eddie turns to his left. Steve gets a little distracted by the line of his jaw.

Click.

He turns to the right and of course only now does Steve notice his ear piercings.

Steve takes a deep breath and focuses.

Click.

Before he can even look through his shots Eddie is dropping the placard on the desk.

He’s halfway out the door before he grabs the frame and leans back in. “One second pretty boy, I have an idea.”

He’s back before Steve snaps out of his stupor at the nickname. This time, he has a pair of handcuffs swinging from his index finger.

Steve snatches them out of his hand. “Where did you get these?”

Eddie crosses his arms over his chest and shrugs. “I know a guy.”

He rolls his eyes.

He’s already picking up the placard and setting up some detail shots when Eddie grabs his wrist and stops him. He freezes for more than one reason.

“Hey, uh. Not to step on your toes or anything, but I actually have another idea.”

Steve is about to start on his spiel about ‘not messing up his flow’ when Eddie rubs his thumb over the inside of his wrist. Gentle and reassuring.

“Do you trust me?”

Honestly Steve has no reason to trust him, he’s basically a stranger.

A pretty one. His brain supplies.

But he does. Trusts him enough to let him take Steve’s creative liberties and throw them out the window apparently.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.”

Eddie’s smile is blinding. He turns Steve’s hand over and drops the handcuff key into it.

“Don’t lose this big boy,” he says as he snaps the cuffs around each of his own wrists.

Steve laughs, loud and shocked. He waggles his eyebrows at Eddie.

“Well, now didn’t this take a turn.”

Eddie rolls his eyes this time and lifts his hands as much as he can.

“Don’t try to sexualize my creative prowess, Steve. I am a professional.”

He nearly trips on his way back to his place in front of the wall and Steve has to hide his laugh into a cough.

Steve’s back behind the camera, hands back on his hips when he asks, “Alright, what’s the plan?”

Eddie smiles and says, “You just shoot, Harrington. I’ll do the rest.”

He leans down to finalize his camera settings and line up his shot. When he finally looks through the viewfinder his jaw drops. Because while Eddie was clearly joking about being a professional, if Steve didn’t know any better, this shot would have him believing it.

Eddie’s got both of his pinky fingers tucked in the corners of his smile, tongue bitten between his teeth. His thumbs are raised along with his middle fingers, while he’s got his nose scrunched and one eye squeezed shut. The cuffs hang right under his chin and accentuate his silver jewelry in a way Steve never would have anticipated.

Click.

The next is a close-up of the booking placard between his teeth.

His hands twisting to unlock his own cuffs.

He’s a natural, and Steve’s camera roll can attest to the fact.

It wouldn’t be until Steve was reviewing and editing the shots that he caught on. The booking ID on the placard looked long because it was. It was Eddie’s number.

*****

Steve got an A.

He got an A, an endless stream of compliments from Joyce and a dorky hot boyfriend.

The rest of the class went the route Steve expected them to.

Dingy bars, backseats of cars, details of his eclectic style.

But Steve’s mugshot series stood leagues above the rest.

Later in their lives, when one of their friends would see the photo in Steve’s wallet they would ask when Eddie got arrested and why.

It quickly became a game between the two.

He’s been arrested in high school for selling drugs (True.)

When he was twenty for public indecency.

At twenty-two for arson.

Thirty for contract killing. This one was followed up with the claim that he was in witsec and was now going to have to change his identity and flee the country.

But the real when and why Eddie got arrested is because when he was twenty-one Joyce told him there was a nice boy in her class that she thought he should meet.

#photographer x mugshot au #steddie #steddie fic #steddie fanfic #one thing about me: my Eddie is going to be a jackass in every universe #also not to toot my own horn #BUT #Joyce being the professor? when her son??? is a photographer?? who probably learned it from her????#toot toot bitch #its canon I don't make the rules #can you guys tell I am a photographer be honest #steve harrington #eddie munson #steve x eddie #gin writes #fin gin #shot of gin #steddie nation #come get y'all juice

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oops-all-concrete · 4 months

Text

Okay, BG3 fandom, I have had sweet thoughts and would like to share them; Companions reacting to Tavs hiding an injury until they couldn't keep it to themselves anymore/the companions put together that they're hurting. (Companions aren't romanced, but GETTING there)

Tooth rotting fluff in a text wall under the cut, enjoy

Lae'zel -

Lae'zel is annoyed, but in the "Don't fight me when I'm trying to love you without saying it" kind of way. She'll say "This isn't battle strategic, there is no advantage this offers us" but the whole camp knows what she means while she aggressively dresses your wound and tells you to stop whining. If Tav wakes up in the middle of the night to find her guarding their tent like a loyal dog, they didn't see anything as far as she cares.

Shadowheart -

Similarly to Lae'zel, Shadowheart is a little annoyed, but Shadowheart can admit she's worried. "You should have told me. I'd have taken care of this immediately" She tells Tav, healing the wound with a small prayer. She makes them promise to say something in the future, even if only for her sake. "This journey has been treacherous. I'd like the one good thing that's come of it to survive with me"

Wyll -

"Promise me you're not going to make a habit of that" He insists, dressing your wounds with a tense expression. "I'd like you to flourish at my side. And I can't be certain you're doing that when you hide things like this." He admits, apparent worry in his voice, gentle movements, a warning for every touch. He's a hard man to feel uncomfortable around. Tav can practically feel the care radiating off him with every patient smile.

Karlach -

She gives Tav the least flack for keeping it to yourself. "Woah soldier, let's take a break and look at that, yeah?" She suggests, keeping the worry out of her voice quite well. She knows they're hiding it for a reason and tries not to make them feel worse for failing to hide it. She just tries to make Tav as comfortable as possible so they might feel at ease enough to tell her next time.

Gale -

The man basically mothers Tav through the healing process. Insists they're off their feet, won't budge on Tav resting and cleans their wounds and changes bandages around the clock. "As much peril as we are in every day, I'd like if you kept even the smaller injuries out in the open." He explains one night. "As small as any harm seems when compared to impending ilithid doom, it's still harm. Much more, it's harm we can fix. Harm I'd like to fix. Ah- assuming you'll let me"

Astarion -

Sounds inconvenienced, will not sit still while you're unwell. He'll hang around and poke fun but won't let them get up for anything. "I mean, how have you even managed that" he says, handing Tav fresh water. "I know you're clumsy, but surely you could have avoided that" he chuckles, handing you another book to draw in/read. "I'll remember this next time you say you have an idea" He rolls his eyes cutting up food and feeding them personally. Anyone asks? "Well, I can't just let them suffer can I? They'll never shut up"

Bonus! (Our older folks)

Halsin -

"That looks painful...you needn't be in pain you know, I can carry you quite easily" He offers. If Tav truly doesn't want help, he can't/won't make them, but he will hover and puppy-dog-eyes at them until they cave. The man will let Tav use him for warmth in the night while they recover and carry them to the pond to bathe as well. Really, Tav could ask anything of him, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

Jaheira -

"I don't even send Harpers out in that condition if I can help it. You'll sit and relax, yes?" She says. Not asks, because she's not asking. "I mean, what if this got infected, or started swelling? Would you just wait for death like a bird falling out of the sky?" She rolls her eyes playfully. She doesn't hesitate to ask for help on Tavs behalf either. "If they'd judge you for being hurt, they're not worthy allies...if they'd judge you for suffering in silence however, that makes them good friends"

Minsc -

"Boo says this should take care of your battle scars. You'll take it yes? When a hamster gives advice, it's bad luck not to take it" he smiles handing Tav whatever potion variant needed. He's overall jovial about it, casual and moves on quickly. Wether that's out of courtesy for Tavs pride or simply because he's a kind man with a hollow head, nobody can truly say.

Hope you enjoyed <3 (and Happy Holidays)

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theaceace · 5 months

Text

In the same way that Morpheus creates dreams and nightmares to assist in his function, as life continues to flourish throughout the worlds, Death creates reapers to help her in her function

One of those reapers is Hob Gadling, former human, now technically dead but also kind of immortal while he's got this job, and honestly that's good enough for him. It's not bad work, if you can get it, yknow? He gets to travel! He meets all kinds of interesting people! He's already seen the horrors of plague and battlefields so not much really shocks him (or so he thinks, at first. He's wrong)

So he's still new to the job, he's getting the hang of it he thinks, but then the next soul he goes to help isn't anywhere he's been before. He knows it's the Dreaming - turns out you know a lot of things you didn't expect, once you're dead - but that's never happened to him before

Weird, but oh well. He's got a job to do, and he's going to do it

Death, meanwhile, has a twofold agenda. The first is that she's in a snit with Dream, and doesn't want to see him until they're both ready to, if not apologise, then at least move on from whatever is grinding both of their gears

The second is she wants Hob and Dream to meet, because it will either be catastrophic or the best thing to ever, but either way she will enjoy it very much

Of course, Dream is also in a proper mood with Death, so when this absurdly cheerful new Reaper shows up in the Dreaming to collect a soul, he has to turn up and make the poor guy's (after)life miserable. Hob, who is not a man predisposed to being made miserable (especially not by this beautiful being who may or may not be a concept of the universe personified and also his boss's brother, hard to be sure considering Dream tells him absolutely Nothing), is bright and breezy and the soul in question is much happier going with him than staying in the Dreaming with the very grumpy looking guy in black

Hob is, obviously, enamoured. He takes one look at Dream and is absolutely gone. If he didn't have a soul to guide right there he'd have been on his knees there and then, and he'd worry about the consequences never later. As it is he flirts a bit, grins a lot, and inadvertently insults both Dream and Dream's favourite sister

Dream is obsessed fuming. He isn't going to stop this upstart little reaper from doing his job - he respects Death and her purpose far too much for that - but he is going to turn up and make Hob's job very difficult every time he arrives in the Dreaming

(this is so much better than Death could have ever imagined)

They get into this habit for the next 600 or so years, Hob arrives to find Dream already lurking ominously with the soul, they talk a bit, Hob charms the soul and off they pop to the Sunless Lands - that is, until Hob dares to insinuate that maybe he knows Dream, and maybe Dream even sort of likes coming to see him. Maybe Hob could even come and visit the Dreaming when he hasn't been called there for work!

Honestly, after the tantrum Dream threw about that, Hob's very surprised to be sent to the Dreaming again. Death had been handling the souls there for quite a while now - but there's a world war on, Hob supposes. She probably too busy to go around scooping up the souls that die in the Dreaming

But when Hob arrives, the Dreaming is cold. Quiet. There's no sign of its contrary monarch, and it seems that the colours are all a little dull. Drained, somehow, and lacking vitality

Well, the world has been dreaming of war and pain and death for years, he reasons. That'd be enough to make anyplace a bit less pleasant. And Dream is probably busy, or just miserable with everything that's going on. No problem. Hob will just have to try to mend this bridge next time

Next time comes and next time goes, and still no Dream, and the Dreaming looks even worse. And again, and again, until Hob actually starts to get worried. It isn't until Lucienne - who he has never met, but knows a little bit by reputation - finds him and tells him that no one has seen Dream for years that he realises something may be very, very wrong

He goes to Death to ask her about it, but she only grimaces and says she's not allowed to interfere unless her brother calls for her. Hob thinks that's ridiculous, first of all, but also he isn't bound by these rules! Surely if she just gave him a hint, he could interfere with whatever is going on!

Death doesn't appear to agree, at the time - but then Hob is sent to collect a soul from the Waking for the first time since 1916. He arrives in the basement of Fawney Rig to find the raging soul of Roderick Burgess, a magic circle he can't cross, and Dream of the Endless watching him from a glass prison

The boss wouldn't have sent Hob here if she didn't want him to do something, he's pretty sure. Even if it means abandoning his duties, forcing his way into the Dreaming, leading a charge of dreams and nightmares and dead souls on Fawney Rig

(or maybe Death doesn't send him for Burgess - maybe he remains, in the crumbling realm of dreams, guiding souls and never quite managing to shake the fear that the next hand he will have to take is that of the Dream king himself)

Either way. Reaper Hob, who is still mostly indistinguishable from Human Hob. Who loves (the after)life. Who loves his friend, who just so happens to be the grumpy younger brother of his boss. Who, when the Dreaming is finally restored, simply can't stop himself from flinging himself at Dream

Reaper Hob

#Sandman #dreamling #hob gadling #dream of the endless #On today's episode of 'fics I have so clearly in my head and Simply Cannot Put To Paper'

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rippersz · 6 months

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𝙎𝙞𝙭 𝙄𝙣𝙘𝙝𝙚𝙨

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(Alcina Dimitrescu and Larissa Weems Have A Conversation) (Flirty; Gay Panic; Potential Romance?) (L.W.’s POV) (Lady D is slightly OOC)

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“Thank you again, Principal Weems, for accepting my daughters. I understand you had to pull a few strings, and for that I am eternally grateful. Let’s just hope they don’t give you any issues, hm?” And a glass of red wine is then brought up to burgundy lips; prompting a hum, a sip, and finally a slow lick along white teeth.

Larissa allows herself to watch, entranced for but a moment, before she’s clearing her throat and giving the woman a polite smile.

“It was no trouble at all, Ms. Dimitrescu. And I’m sure the girls will have plenty of opportunities to flourish. I’m only glad you came before the semester started- otherwise it would have been cutting it finely,” she mused, maintaining a professional tone as best she could while her clasped hands trembled within her lap.

Something about the woman on the other side of her desk, sitting in a chair much too small, was setting Larissa on edge. Aside from the obvious prestige of her name and status, the very displacement- the shift of air- that happened when she walked into a room was astounding. The Principal felt it earlier, only in passing and for a moment, before the three rascals that accompanied her stole most of the attention away.

But here, in the flickering light of the fire and the darkness of the evening, it’s just her and Alcina Dimitrescu. Mother of three, esteemed vintner and business owner, royalty to some extent, and ex jazz musician. Larissa has some of her records in her quarters, but she won’t tell her that. Maybe one day, if they grow closer, but such thoughts are merely the wishes of a lonely woman. Desires with no basis and dreams with no end. Alcina Dimitrescu is exactly her type, yes, and she enjoys her wine, yes, and she finds her marvelously beautiful, yes, but that doesn’t matter. She has to maintain professionalism. She cannot allow the woman to see the effect she has (even though the constant smirk she wears tells Larissa that she most definitely already knows).

“Oh you have no idea how lucky I feel,” comes the deep purr of her tone. “The girls had been bugging me about Nevermore for ages. Only about a month ago did I actually start my research. And I’m glad I did.” Larissa certainly isn’t hallucinating then as sharp grey eyes slowly travel over her upper body. Roaming from her broad shoulders to her bust.

The room suddenly feels very warm. And her dress feels very restricting. But she ignores it.

Professional, professional, professional.

Even though there is nothing professional about Alcina Dimitrescu’s disposition. Oh no. The only thing that exists there is pure desire. Like the deep passionate idea of sex everyone has in their minds - except in the form of a human being. Or a… well she isn’t actually sure what she is. To the average person, at first glance, they may just assume she’s a well put-together tall woman - but Larissa is not a naive, simple woman. She has grown up around outcasts. Give her a test about outcast history, behavior, types, culture, origins, and she will pass with flying colors. Keen eyes notice the signs, the appearance, the behavior, and the things they do to cover it all up.

Like the skin.

It’s beautiful skin. Flawless skin. But painted white, when it’s actually grey. She can see it slightly- so slightly- beneath the makeup near her temple. Where beautiful bouncy black curls meet a pale forehead. She can see the smallest patch of grey. Gargoyle, is her first thought. But when she sees the teeth- stark white and normal, aside from the knife-sharp cuspids that shine in the firelight- she thinks Vampire. But then the hands… She was wearing gloves, but at some point had discarded them into her purse and is now lounging in the chair, holding her wine glass in such a delicate way that Larissa begins to envy the fucking thing. Light skin fades from the huge space of a feminine palm into the dark as midnight color of long slim fingers. They cradle the belly of the glass with a gentle touch - and Larissa catches sight of the nails. Painted black. Sharper than the average ‘accessory’. Like they’re… meant to be dangerous.

She doesn’t say anything about it though. Gargoyle, Vampire, whatever other creature, she would never ask them what their ‘type’ is. For adults with such peculiarities, it’s just not common to do so. Not to mention she’s the Principal of Nevermore Academy - and must set a good example.

…Even though there are no children present… and she is morbidly curious.

Doesn’t matter!

Nope. Not at all.

The beauty, the aura, the mystique of the woman before her will just have to remain a mystery. Even if Larissa has never seen a creature so sublime. With that silky dark hair… and those finely arched brows… and those red lips… and that soft jaw that can become oh so sharp with just a small tense of the muscles… and that nose… and those lashes… and those eyes. They swallow her whole. If she thinks she herself is intimidating, she’s wrong. Because Alcina Dimitrescu is waist-deep in the very meaning. With her sharp, easy languid smile. And her matured laugh lines. And her deep chuckles. And her stature. Broad-shouldered, muscular, with a very curvaceous and blessed figure, soft belly, and long legs. Long legs. Long fucking legs.

When she opened the door, Larissa nearly fainted.

Students and adults alike have a difficult enough job meeting her eyes. A woman standing at 6’3”, about 6’4” in kitten heels, is a thing to marvel at in the outcast and normie worlds. But the implications and awe of it all just astounds her. There are plenty of tall women in existence! Alcina Dimitrescu being one of them. Standing at 6’9”. Probably taller in the stilettos she’s wearing. 6 entire inches between them. She’s never met someone so… big. She had to control her reaction immediately, lest she be forever viewed as one of those people that can’t help but ogle. And how embarrassing that would be.

Even though there’s. Six. Inches. In. Difference.

It’s like they’re on opposite sides of the spectrum. Larissa is tall, but modest about it. She wears a low heel, she gives herself an everyday any-event style of makeup, she wears a light floral perfume, she keeps her hair short and pinned up, she stays neat and she wears work-appropriate dresses and she is still perfectly fashion forward. But ‘Ms. Dimitrescu’ is a different story. Is a bold story. Is an intoxicating story. She wears a high heel, and gives herself dark eyes, accentuates the god-given lashes, paints her lips blood red; and she wears a smoky roll-on scent that smells like spice and jasmine and white musk, and she keeps her short dark hair pulled into a tight 1950’s messy pin-curl kind of look, and she stays perfect while wearing tight grey button downs tucked into high waisted slacks. A feminine type of power suit that isn’t a power suit at all but still commands a room simply because she was just born that way.

It’s infuriatingly distracting.

Larissa has to look down at her lap so she can conjure up a proper response for the woman in front of her - who is still staring.

I think she has a habit, the Principal thinks to herself.

“As am I,” she coughs out, despising the telling husk to her words. “We are always looking for new outcasts at Nevermore. It helps us grow as a school, as a population, as a place of freedom and excitement. Do you know the estimated time of your daughters’ stay?” It wasn’t settled upon before - and Larissa needs something to distract her from the small appreciative sips Ms. Dimitrescu takes from her wine.

“That’s a very good question, Principal,” and a playful tinge slips into that naturally gorgeous expression, “Can they stay with you forever? Lord knows Mother needs a break.” And then she winks, and her red lips part into a smile, and then she takes her eyes elsewhere while Larissa quickly shifts her skin from a burning pink back into the natural peachy pale.

All she can think to do is let out a forced laugh paired with (what she hopes is) a smooth smile.

“As much as I wish they could,” Larissa breathes and puts her hands from her lap back onto the surface of the desk, “that is unfortunately unrealistic. Certain students do have that opportunity, yes, but we always encourage the young ones to get out a bit and see the world. It’s scary at first, but we also tell them that Nevermore will always be here. Should they want to come back, of course.” Is she rambling? Maybe. But her company doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, she seems quite interested. Very interested.

Staring into her bloody soul like she’s been doing since day one. Larissa’s half tempted to ask her if there’s something wrong, but she figures it’s just the way the woman is. Intense.

“I see. Well. I suppose for now, the girls will stay for the standard four years - and if there’s more to discuss down the line, we will simply cross that bridge when we come to it. Does that sound amenable to you, Principal?” Ms. Dimitrescu tilts her head, still carrying an air of arrogant amusement as she strings Larissa along.

“It sounds perfect, yes,” and if her voice dips a little in the middle of her sentence then so what?

Ms. Dimitrescu seems to enjoy it as a slow grin spreads across her cheeks. Deepening her beautiful laugh lines while she smiles with all teeth. It’s nearly embarrassing how quickly Larissa’s eyes snap to the large canines. She’s explored vampiric anatomy before - in her Nevermore days - but this is something different. This woman doesn’t seem like anything she’s seen before, and only a person with an inquisitive mind can’t help but desire more. More like a feel, maybe. Like a touch. The brush of one finger pad along the very sharp tip of one tooth. Or the flick of a sensitive tongue. Or the feeling of them skating along her neck. Or-

“Do you mind if I smoke?”

Larissa blinks.

What?

Before she can say anything, and disagree, and tell her she most certainly does mind, the woman somehow already has a quellazaire tucked between her fingers. The wine glass now sits on the desk, on a coaster, and the lit end of a cigarette is already sparkling with the glow of burning embers. It’s brought up to red lips. Pressed and held. Then taken away while the taller woman slowly tips her head back and releases a deep chest-shaking groan. The smoke curls into the air like fingers around a woman’s waist, and Larissa is utterly speechless.

“I- uh-”

That beautiful head lifts itself, and she quickly notices the challenge weaseling around through the other woman’s gaze. A veil of smoke now separates them. But that doesn’t stop her from sniffing and licking her lips and adjusting herself in her seat - right before she sets down the law.

“I’d prefer if you didn’t do that Ms. Dimitrescu. This is still a public building, a school no less, and we want to set a good example for the students.” She silently congratulates herself on her courage. Right before it’s tugged away.

“Oh?” The other woman straightens up, her back arching in a way that makes Larissa wish she could skate her fingers along the beautiful curve it makes. “I wasn’t aware there were students present. Are you somehow able to see things I’m not, Principal Weems?”

It’s a small shot of playful mockery that makes her heart rate speed up- and for a second there she thinks she sees grey eyes shooting down to her chest, like she can hear the change in rhythm, before quickly meeting her gaze again.

Larissa plasters on her most obviously placating smile while she tilts her head. If there’s one thing that pisses her off, it’s a blatant disregard for respect. Alcina Dimitrescu may be older, and more prestigious, but this is Larissa Weems’s turf. One must bow to the king they visit.

“No, Ms. Dimitrescu, unfortunately I haven’t been gifted with that particular ability,” she speaks as clearly as she can, letting the passive aggression in her words flow out from behind smiling white teeth. “But I do know that I’m not fond of inhaling second-hand smoke. And should a student walk in at this hour, I can’t imagine they’d appreciate the assault on the senses either.” Her eyebrows quirk up, silently daring the woman to fight back. Just see what happens.

But her show of authority doesn’t anger Ms. Dimitrescu in the way she thought it would. It, instead, just makes her red lips twitch while she takes her second and last inhale - before taking the cigarette out of its long holder and… burning it. Twisting it to ash. On the sensitive skin of her hand. Between the knuckles of her index and middle fingers. Creating a slow circle. Smushing it to a weird tobacco-y pulp.

Larissa’s lips part in shock.

When the ruined cigarette is pulled away, not even a mark is left. Just a small smudge of ash that Ms. Dimitrescu wipes off with her thumb.

So certainly not human. And not a Gargoyle. And not a Vampire.

She swallows, unable to speak a single word while the woman puts her quellazaire away and stands up to her full height - towering over the desk for a moment - before she’s turning around and strutting over to the fireplace. Her hips sway as she goes, and her hair bounces lightly against the base of her neck, and the mixed smell of her spiced perfume and cigarette smoke floats into Larissa’s eager lungs and honestly, she wants nothing more than to trail after her and put her hands on those strong shoulders and push her onto the sofa and demand that this woman tell her who she thinks she is. Walking around her office as if she owns the place. Pouring hubris and carrying the kind of confidence only a rich woman can have… Like Larissa isn’t doing her a favor. Like Larissa didn’t have to bargain with the board to allow the Dimitrescu children into Nevermore. Homeschooled girls with the kind of peculiarities that can only stem from faraway villages; rough in their play and sharp in their minds. Just like their mother. Whose wine every single board member drinks.

Whose wine Larissa drinks.

But that’s also something she won’t tell her.

The wine in Ms. Dimitrescu’s glass, anyway, is one Larissa had to pull out from her own liquor cabinet; after she offered a drink to the other woman, thinking she knew she meant water or sparkling cider. But she didn’t. Or she didn’t care. And once she put the bottle and the crystal glass on the desk, she instantly took the initiative and poured herself a wonderfully hefty helping of a young Zinfandel. To a regular person, that amount of wine had in such a short period of time (their session is supposed to be 45 minutes but Larissa knows it’s run over) would definitely leave them drunk without any preamble. Of course, Ms. Dimitrescu is something distinctly inhuman, and her figure is probably quite heavy with all of that muscle… and curves… and the way her belly pushes against the waistband of her slacks ever ever so slightly… and she may have eaten earlier in the day and-

Why on Earth am I thinking about this?

Larissa has to keep herself from rolling her eyes.

A confident, slightly egotistical, insanely intelligent pretty woman steps into her office and drinks some of her wine and stares into her very being and suddenly she’s unable to control herself? She lived with Morticia Addams for nearly four years! Whatever training and self-discipline she gained from that experience has just flown out the window in the face of- of- of whatever the fuck Alcina Dimitrescu is?! No. Nonsense. Unacceptable. Her professionalism still remains. The woman can push the boundaries, but she cannot take Larissa’s dignity and jurisdiction. Even if she looks unnaturally attractive standing by the fire and lazily throwing her cigarette away into the flames.

Even if her eyes, for just a moment, flash a violent gold.

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When worlds collide !! I may do other parts of this; or little one-shots with this pairing. So let me know what you think? Thank you, darlings. - Rip x

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Tags (Keep in mind Tumblr doesn't let me tag certain accounts): @oddball21 @kaymariesworld @bloommushroom @readingtheentrails @thegoddamnfeels @theonefairygodmother @theflashesoflove @sweetderacine @opalthefrog @gwensfreak @shyladyfan @erablaise-blog @bellatrixsbrat @sunnyanon @emilynissangtr @lex13cm @sugipla @hasthebaconinhispants @deongocrazy @nocteangelus15 @eveymay @one-pining-queer @azu-zu @niceminipotato @hopelessly-sapphic @barbarasstar @enchantressb @syrenacrainn @im-a-carnivorous-plant @willowshadenox @aemilia19 @ladylarissaweems @scarlettssub @ladysdraga @willisnotmental @gela123 @h-doodles @zillahofviolets-bayolet @weemssapphic @the-bearr @amateurwritescm

#rippersz #fanfictionwriter #fanfic #fanfiction #larissa weems #wlw fanfic #wednesday larissa weems #larissa weems wednesday #alcina dimitrescu #lady alcina dimitrescu #re8 lady d #lady dimitrescu #larissa weems x alcina dimitrescu #alcina dimitrescu x larissa weems #lady d x larissa weems #muehehehehehehehe #flirty fanfic #gay fanfiction

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flowerwrites06 · 9 months

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l'amour de ma vie — myg

L'AMOUR DE MA VIE | Love of my Life | Requested by anon.

Plot: Insecurities pile up in Yoongi's marriage after months of distance and neglect. Pairing: Pianist!Yoongi x Ballet Teacher!OC (Name: Kiku) Genre: Music & Ballet | Marriage on the Rocks Type: One-shot Rating: 18+ Word Count: 4.6k+ Warnings: marital insecurities, unintentional neglect, jealousy, mentions of divorce, mild mentions of injury from ballet, explicit sexual content (rough sex, unprotected sex, squirting). Author’s Note: new one-shot, friends! i really hope you enjoy this one, I loved writing it! be sure to let me know what you think!

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! Send your ideas in by August 1st before it closes!

Yoongi was a serious man. Kiku knew this well in the years she knew him. Their marriage didn’t flourish like fresh romances with many kisses and open affection but quiet trust helped their relationship stand strong.

When the doors closed, Yoongi often made up for his silence with soft kisses on her skin, calloused finger pads running down her neck and sneaking in between her core until she soaked the sheets.

However, things changed as the concerts began to pile up. When they were touring together as equal performers, Yoongi was active in ensuring that she heard compliments whispered in her ear. That he stared her way when she was on stage and she would sneak a look back whenever able.

Now Kiku wasn’t an equal performer and Yoongi’s attention on her was. . .low. Though Kiku understood why. It was concert season. Of course. That’s the only reason.

Of course, Yoongi was active and his face brightened like stars when he performed but lost the light in his eyes when he looked at her. It was exhaustion. It must’ve been. He would tell her if something was wrong.

Tonight was the same as the previous nights for. . .how long had it been? Two months, maybe three. Yoongi thrilled the audience with his performance, fingers dancing over the ivory keys like they were an extension of his own digits. Like the music was the air he breathed, exuding out of him. Kiku found it deliciously mesmerizing.

The audience roared with applause as the performance ended.

Yoongi bowed to the crowd, roses thrown his way before he walked backstage. Sweat slick on his forehead, pearling at the jawline. His grin disappeared immediately when he reached here. Kiku felt the weight of the lost smile but she leaned in and kissed his cheek anyway to congratulate him.

Yoongi barely leaned into it and rushed to change his clothes.

It was just exhaustion. Just exhaustion. Nothing more.

***

Today turned for the better. At least Kiku hoped as Yoongi received his first free day away from practices or concerts so he can enjoy the Italian sights for a while. The day was beautiful indeed, sun blazing gold amongst the sandstone buildings and flowers beds at the cafes burst in vibrant colour.

Kiku even wore her favourite silk corset dress with a thin cardigan over top for the spring breeze. Her black waves reached down to the small of her back and her enthusiasm thrumming to excitement. She felt as if she was waiting for a first date.

Yoongi finally entered the living room, wearing a white shirt and trousers.

“Did you want to go out to a café today?” Kiku asked, her voice kept soft and sweet. “It’s a beautiful day.”

Yoongi barely looked her way. “I have a small meeting with the producer. He wants some changes to the later performances,” he said. His tone was rushed and serious. As always. Everytime he began thinking of work, that was his tone.

Kiku knew this and she told herself this the moment her heart started squeezing unbearably. “When will you be back? Maybe we can go later.”

“I’m not sure. You can go by yourself and enjoy,” Yoongi said before rushing out without waiting for a response.

Breathing through the aches in her chest, Kiku did pick herself up and enjoy Italy. It was concert season. It was concert season. Everything will be back to normal once they’re home. It’ll be fine.

***

France was the next destination. This time, Kiku was invited to a ballet studio in Paris to teach some classes and have a studio room of her own to practice if she needed. It kept her distracted. Italy emptied Kiku and even the plane ride to France was Yoongi discussing things with his producer, Minho while she sat alone in her corner.

The dance studio brought her full of life again, the golden vines consuming the marble building like a living organism. The varnished wood floors, silk shoes and flowing dresses that returned Kiku to past days. To. . .happier days, she thought with a pain inside her.

Kiku and Yoongi fell in love during a different France tour years ago. Kiku was a prima ballerina in her early twenties. Lovely and enchanting, they called her. Yoongi played all her songs for her, watching her every move as if catering to her own movements and not the choreography itself. There was an intimacy behind that cohesion, that connection that not even six years of marriage managed to create. Perhaps that was a bad thought to have. To romanticise the first year of love as opposed to the commitment they were in now.

She should be happier now. She was happy. Happy, yes.

Was Yoongi happy? Was he happy that he watched her perform? Was it okay that Kiku was no longer that prima ballerina? She was no longer quite as lovely or enchanting.

Kiku danced every now and then but after an injury, her doctor encouraged her not to do performances like she used to. Otherwise it may lead to permanent damage. Yoongi supported her through her strained muscles, helping her through her exercises and reassuring her. But perhaps Yoongi didn’t plan on needing to take care of her. Perhaps the thought of her never being that ballerina again dawned on him and he grew distant.

No, it was silly. Silly to think it so. They were happy. Happy. Happy.

***

Kiku made her way to the stadium where Yoongi had his practice and performance later in the night. She brought fresh food from a nearby café with a small spring in her step. Sweet notes of the piano echoed in her ears. Even the tonality and energy of the notes made her know that it was Yoongi. It gave her both this nostalgia and fresh nuance of something new, like a first kiss or a sneaky touch on the back of her hand.

Kiku smiled at the people backstage, placing the food on the table.

“This’ll be good for the newer performances,” she heard Minho say as they looked out to the stage.

Kiku followed their gaze and saw the new addition. The reason why Minho wanted to have so many meetings. A young ballerina was on the stage, dancing freely to the notes played by Yoongi.

Her grin was bright and energetic, understanding completely the importance of her performance carried out. Lovely and enchanting.

Kiku knew it was normal for pianists to do this. To have different performances showcase creativity and enthusiasm. But the sight of it felt like stones crushing her slowly. It was normal for this to happen, she told herself. Yet Kiku felt it deep in her heart, deep in her gut, this unbearable pain when the reality sank in.

Kiku didn’t belong to his world anymore.

She was a wife who tried to be part of his world but not in his world.

Perhaps Yoongi knew this and stayed silent to protect her feelings. He never liked confrontation. Or it just didn’t matter and he would get rid of her after the tour.

“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” Minho asked. “Back to his roots?”

Kiku attempted a smile as she always did. Attempting a smile. Maintaining an energy to make sure everyone else felt good. To make sure Yoongi felt good, without burden.

“I’m feeling a bit unwell,” Kiku said. “I’ll be going home.”

“Don’t you want to wait until he finishes?” Minho asked, confused. Kiku never left once she got to Yoongi’s practice, not even when she was sick.

How silly she was. Constantly leering at the edges of a place she didn’t belong to anymore. Trying to squeeze into a place in Yoongi’s heart that was probably getting smaller and smaller. He had no time for her. Kiku couldn’t force him.

Oh, the thought of it burned her eyes. Her stomach felt like it was singed.

Frustration pricked at her. “I’ll talk to him when he gets home.” She lied. He’ll be fine without me.

***

Yoongi adored having more performances linked to his piano pieces. While he enjoyed having his solo acts, it was nice to be in the background for a moment and allow for his music to be interconnected with dance or a story. The exhaustion and boredom that begun to linger in the past performances rejuvenated back into a sense of excitement. At least the final shows of the tour were something of energy and new light.

The ballerina bowed elegantly after the practice performance. Yoongi returned backstage with his heart pumping through his ribcages at asking Kiku whether she liked the new addition. She had grown a bit quiet towards the end of the Italy leg. Perhaps seeing some of her own art showcased on stage would bring her spirits up.

Except Kiku wasn’t there.

“Did Kiku not come yet?” Yoongi asked before gulping a bottle of water.

Minho, his producer, shrugged. “She said she felt unwell. But you have food.” He gestured to the apricot pastry, sandwich and coffee on the table.

Yoongi was used to having Kiku sit there with him as he ate or eat with him. Having the chair next to him empty felt cold and unwelcoming. She must’ve been really sick. “I can go early to check on her.”

Minho hummed. “I mean you can but it’d be safe to do another practice run.”

Yoongi stared at the empty chair for a while. Maybe she was asleep and he would only be disturbing. Besides, he had a few shows left. Might as well get it all out of the way.

***

Night already fell into a deep dark abyss by the time Yoongi was done with practice. He wanted to come back home in the afternoon but he got distracted at work. It was a habit of his, long rotting inside him yet hard to rip away. Moonlight painted their hotel room in a pale silver before Yoongi turned the light on for a splash of warm apricot light against the crème couches and opulent lamps.

“Kiku?” Yoongi asked.

There was no response for longer than Yoongi was comfortable.

But then Kiku walked through the bedroom door, wearing a soft cotton lace nightdress with her hair, a little messy from a nap. Her eyes were soft and glossed, her cheeks sweet and a little puffed. Kiku didn’t move from her spot, looking at him carefully.

A small part of Yoongi’s body had gotten prepared for her to walk to him and kiss him on the cheek. A more selfish part of him expected her to wait for him because she always did, even when she was sniffling from sickness. “You weren’t feeling well?”

Kiku stared at him, as if confused by Yoongi’s concern like it was foreign to her. Yoongi hadn’t seen that look on her face and something about it hurt her. “I’m feeling better,” she said softly.

“Is it your legs?” Yoongi asked, a little more careful this time.

Kiku still looked at him like that. Like Yoongi hadn’t spoken to her of such intimacy in a long time.

Well. . .he didn’t, did he? When was the last time Yoongi asked her if she ate well? Or slept well? Or even how she was? Yoongi tried his best to remember. He must’ve had asked her how she was this morning. Or kissed her. But he couldn’t remember. He couldn’t remember the last time he had any conversation with her.

“I’m alright, Yoongi,” Kiku said. “Get some rest, it’s okay.”

Yoongi wanted to argue that he could give her a massage or help her get better but Kiku already walked back into the room. Without a smile or a kiss. The air grew cold again and Yoongi worried that his habits may have touched a nerve too delicate for his own good.

***

“An extension?” Yoongi had a single finger tapping softly on a D note, not pressing it for sound but thinking as Minho announced that he wanted to have a few more weeks of shows. “The tour has already gone on for months. We all need rest.”

Minho hummed, waving his hand. “You can rest later. This’ll be good for your career.”

It would be. Especially with ballet studios from France wishing to administer their own ballerinas into the mix, it would be so good for his career. But a shadow loomed over him. Kiku’s distance wasn’t going unnoticed by Yoongi. She hadn’t been to any of his practices since that day and it had been a week already.

Kiku wasn’t sick anymore. Something else was wrong.

“Kiku and I’s anniversary is in two weeks. I don’t want to be busy in a concert during that time, we’ve never worked on anniversaries.” Yoongi shook his head. He remembered how she worked around her training schedules to ensure that their anniversary was always free. Something was already wrong and for Yoongi to break a tradition along with it was stupid.

“Well, Kiku can come along with you.” Minho smiled. “She can even train the ballerinas herself, she’s a qualified teacher. Spend your anniversary in Paris.”

Yoongi could try to get a free day during the tour again. He had a free day in Italy, which he used to have a work meeting. Maybe this time, they could explore France. “Alright, I’ll talk to her.”

***

Kiku was at a ballet studio, Yoongi was told. Not by Kiku but the hotel receptionist who was asked to send a message if Yoongi tried to look for her. Kiku always texted him directly if she wanted to communicate something but they’ve resorted to this now, he supposed. Yoongi made his way to the ballet studio, the smell of wood and perfume wafting in the air as he walked up the stairs to the top level practice area.

Kiku was there, wearing a flowy white skirt, transparent, crème with a black top. Her hair was open as she always kept it when practicing dances on her own. Even after the injury, her every move was precise, the pointe of her toes like an ethereal being and her form like a swan.

Yoongi remembered watching her all day. He had become so used to her presence, close to him like his own extension. After all this distance, he was once again the humble pianist watching a prima ballerina conjuring magic with her dance.

Dark, pretty eyes flickered to him then and Kiku stopped, her expression neutral again.

Yoongi tried to push down the squeeze in his chest. He wanted her to smile at him again, to rush to him and kiss him. But she stood there, distant and unmoving. “I—Minho wants to extend the tour.” He wanted to make a more personal introduction but the room turned cold so quickly, he couldn’t muster the right tender words.

Kiku stared at him, a twitch in her eye. So she was uncomfortable. “It’s alright. It’s good for your career.”

Now she was keeping her feelings hidden from him.

Hurt turned to a flash of frustration. “You weren’t at the practice.”

“I figured you didn’t need me hovering over you all the time,” Kiku said plainly.

“You’re my wife, I want you there.”

“Well, you haven’t exactly been doing a good job at showing it.”

Ah. His bad habit. Still rotting inside him and now it was rotting at the seams of his marriage. Kiku’s neutral expression flashed with truth now, making Yoongi wish she was hiding it again. It wasn’t anger. Not really. It was deep hurt and helplessness. “Kiku.” His voice was meek. It made him feel stupider that he realized it immediately yet too late.

The hurt solidified behind Kiku’s expression.

“I wasn’t doing it on purpose, I was—”

“Busy, I know. Believe me, it was the only word I’ve hinged on to. . .gain strength.” Kiku let out a long sigh, soft and weary and slow.

Yoongi knew it was to hide her voice shaking as her eyes turned glossier. He hated it. Hated that he was the reason. Hated that he didn’t even know it because he never felt he had to. Kiku always had herself put together, always a sturdy foundation. So much so that Yoongi grew too lax. Too careless. And now it was coming back to haunt him in the flesh.

“You can continue the tour without me,” Kiku said.

“No.”

“It’s stupid to cancel the tour on my accord. You’ve come this far.” She shook her head.

“I am not leaving you.” Yoongi’s voice raised a little, desperate and pleading. “Kiku. I wanted you to be with me, spend our anniversary in France.”

“I don’t want to be in France.” Kiku��s throat bobbed up and down. “It reminds me too much of what I’m not anymore. Of what I can’t be.”

“What do you mean?” Yoongi asked.

“I’m not the wonderful ballerina I used to be,” Kiku whispered. “People look straight through me and it never bothered me but now. . .you do too.”

Yoongi’s heart dropped. “Kiku, I never. . .I don’t care if you’re a ballerina or not, it doesn’t matter to me.”

“It doesn’t matter to you because you can always put a new one on stage.” Her voice cracked then, unable to hold herself together. “I can’t find some other person who will think I’m worth keeping.”

“I’m keeping you,” Yoongi argued. “I know I’ve been wrong to distance myself from you but that will never change the fact that you’re mine. And I’m yours. All of it, always.”

Kiku stayed silent, finally letting out a shaky sigh. It was that slightest glimpse of vulnerability that gave Yoongi hope. The wall wasn’t cement, it was a curtain still, giving him to room to walk closer so he could catch the faint waft of a tea and jasmine in her aura.

Yoongi held onto her fingers gently at first. He waited for her to slowly curl and clasp back, giving him another chance to walk even closer. His hand reached up her arm, cupping her cheeks and kissed her. A fire roared inside him, feeling her warm kiss back again. It had been too long. Feeling the soft strands of her hair through his fingers, the taste of her and her warmth pressed against him soared through him with sweetness.

Yoongi leaned Kiku against the barre, lifting her enough to rest against her back against the mirror. Yoongi kissed her neck, suckled on the softest part of her skin and bit into it. The slight ache on her skin awakened her nerves.

Kiku ran her fingers through his hair, tugged at the scalp to ground her to reality. That this wasn’t a dream but her own beloved husband, tasting her skin after so long. Her hips desperately rubbed against the bulge forming on his pants, the weight of her body already pressing down against the barre but she didn’t care.

Kiku snuck her hand in between them, rubbing his hardened bulge before unbuttoning his pants. Her fingers wrapped gently around his thick member, twitching against the soft skin of her palm. Her index traced up the angry vein, teasing the slick tip until he let out a moan against her collarbone.

Yoongi lifted to look at her. Kiku smiled and sucked his arousal off her index, keeping her dark lust-blown eyes fixed on him. Yoongi gripped onto her jaw, pushing her cheeks in until her lips protruded. He kissed her again, harder this time as he reached under her skirt and ripped her thin panties, the delicate cloth soaked in her own arousal.

Kiku laughed, drunk with lust as she grabbed onto Yoongis length and aimed it at her sodden cunt. Time showed in the way Kiku felt so snug. She let out a small shaky whimper as if Yoongi entered her for the first time. Kiku gripped onto the barre as Yoongi gently pushed through the tightness, letting her adjust to him again.

Kiku grazed her nails against the fabric of his shirt, yanking off the buttons so her fingertips could trace his skin. She let out a pleased sigh as his entire length sunk inside her, his body flush against hers until they were one.

“I love you,” Yoongi whispered.

Kiku let out a small whimper, forehead pressed against his as tears burned in her eyes. Both an overwhelming flash of love and pleasure soared through her deliciously. “I love you too.”

As the declaration left her sweet lips, Yoongi began to thrust into her. Slow at first, ensuring that she felt the tip of him at her cervix and every ridge inside her remembered him sliding out. She dripped with arousal, making the wooden barre glisten. Yoongis hips moved faster, pistoning in a pattern that maddened Kiku.

Yoongi pulled at the sleeves of her top, sneaking it down until her nipples popped from their covering. The cold air of the ballet studio made them erect. Yoongi leaned and wrapped his lips around one of them, lapping his tongue on the tip until he felt her clench around his cock.

Kiku threw her head back against the mirror before kissing his temple. Yoongi was patient in his attention, moving to her right nipple and giving it the same love. Such affection. His pace quickened as her pleasure began to swell to its limit.

Yoongi gripped onto the back of her thighs, locking her against the wall and pounding into her. Without mercy and with the most delicious desperation that forced a string of moans out of Kiku. Never had she felt so free to let out all the noises she wanted.

His thrusts got harsher, her wet cunt slammed over and over again until even the barre began to squeak under the pressure. Then he paused suddenly with a pant. Kiku let out a choked scream as Yoongi buried himself deep, shaping himself inside her and carrying her off the barre. Kiku spewed another whimper, muffled against his shirt.

Yoongi let out an excited breath as he placed her shaking feet on the floor. Turned Kiku around and had her face her flushed, tear-stained and pleased expression in the mirror. Her hair had turned dishevelled, the front strand matted to her forehead. Yoongi gently placed his fingers over her neck, nose buried in her hair, the lovely scent of jasmine and her sweet arousal suffusing the air. “You’re mine. My love.” He whispered.

Kiku smiled, swaying her hips before he started pushing himself in again. This time much easier, wet and welcoming. “I’m yours.” She caressed his sweat slick cheek. “Yours. All yours.”

Yoongi hummed, thrusting into her again. Deep and hard. Each thrust felt like a shake through her whole body, making the memory of him linger until she dreamt about it days later. “Am I yours?”

Kiku let out a soft chuckle. “You’re mine.” Another rough thrust had her nearly sobbing as it hit her sensitive spot. He still knew where it was.

Yoongi panted, using her noise to thrust in that same position. Kiku bent over against the barre with a whimper, her knees nearly buckling but still wanting more. “Does it feel good, baby?”

Kiku stammered a response as he fucked into her again, her lower belly felt full, ready to roll over the edge. Yoongi pistoned into her ensuring that the same spot touched again and again. “Feels good, baby, don’t stop.” She cried out.

Yoongi groaned, leaning in and sneaking one of his hands between her legs. His calloused fingers rubbed her clit as his own orgasm rushed to the edge. “I’m gonna cum.”

Kiku let out a trembling breath, gripping on his forearm as her lower belly. Begging to release. “Cum inside me.” She turned her head and kissed his cheek. Then the coil sprung. Spurts of sweet nectar had her whimpering, a light choked scream as a light gush splashed on the floor.

Yoongi panted as his orgasm burst into madness, thick and warm as it filled Kiku’s womb. Messy and beautiful. Their thighs slick with the most wonderful arousal as he held his love in his hands, most of her weight rested on his grip as she trembled through her high. “Fuck, I missed you.”

Kiku chuckled, the tingles of ecstasy flooding through her like a blind bliss. “I missed you too,” she whispered, touching his cheek again. “Don’t be away from me.”

“Never. Never again.” And Yoongi held to that promise just as he held her. He would never let this go again.

***

Minho never hid his disappointments when it came to him. Except Yoongi wasn’t quite the same as all his other rookie musicians, who would fall back in line once they saw the displeased purse of his lips. “It would’ve been good for your career. Your wife should understand that much, she’s done the same with her career.’

“Kiku made her career without sacrificing time in our marriage,” Yoongi said. “I should be held to that same standard.”

Minho hummed, raising his hands in defense. “I mean if that’s what you want.”

“You did want to go to Greece for another tour so if that’s in the cards.” Yoongi already expected the sudden brightness in Minho’s face. He didn’t like disappointment but he did like something to do. Perhaps preparing for a future tour in Greece would allow for Yoongi to spend more time with Kiku.

Minho clapped his hands. “Greece and a few more dates in Japan as well. Kiku’s home country, that could make her happy.” He waved his hands, smiling to himself as if he wasn’t just ready to have a tantrum a few minutes ago. “Enjoy your anniversary.”

Yoongi smiled, feeling a wave of relief that he was appeased. No more tour dates anytime soon. Which meant he could go home when the sun was high in the sky and he had comfort waiting for him at home.

***

They took a plane back to their apartment in Korea the next day. The familiar dark wood, ferns and home-grown lettuce were well-tended to by their friends while they were gone. Kiku recognized the smell was different after a few months. Sadness pricked at her but it was bittersweet, not all bad. She was home again.

Kiku and Yoongi made dinner together to revive the smell of home. Warm rice soup, spinach salad, fresh steamed rice and spiced mapo tofu to fill their bellies.

“I’m thinking of opening a ballet studio,” Kiku said.

Yoongi’s brows raised mid-chew. “You want to teach?”

Kiku nodded with a smile. “I still want to dance and the doctor said just not to do performances. So teaching.”

“If you want a part-time piano player, I’m free.” Yoongi grinned.

“Without an interview?” Kiku frowned playfully. “My ballet studio would have more standards than that.”

“I mean I am sleeping with the owner, you could pull a few strings.” Yoongi shrugged.

Kiku’s lips parted in slight shock. “That’s highly inappropriate. You would have to show me your talents.”

As they put away the dishes for their lunch, Yoongi walked over to the grand piano perched on the space between the kitchen and living room. He reached out to his work bag and pulled out a few pieces of paper with hand-written music notes.

Yoongi played with the ease of breathing as he always did, except this music was the softest it had ever sounded. Delicate and sweet. Even the way his fingers moved on the keys were floating like a swan. A ballerina.

Kiku padded over to the piano, stood behind him and leaned her chin against his shoulder. She peered over the title and saw L’amour de me Vie. Love of my Life. Her heart burst with joy as she rested against the crook of his neck. “Who’s it about?”

Yoongi laughed, playing softer. “Depends, do I get the job?”

Kiku smiled and kissed his cheek. “Fine. You’re hired.”

“Then it’s you,” Yoongi said, smirking. It will always be you.

masterlist

#yoongi #suga #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts angst #bts fanfiction #yoongi fanfic #yoongi angst #yoongi smut #marriage au #pianist au #yoongi fic #yoongi x oc

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rorywritesjunk · 5 months

Text

I can't tell where the journey will end But I know where to start

Prequel to my Kid Buggy fic, set about 11-ish years before that story. Buggy meets you by chance when he needs his buttons sewn back onto his jacket. He's young, up and coming, and he thinks everyone should cower before him wherever he goes, but all you do is smile at him. Rating: PG-13ish just for some swearing. Warning: Buggy's in his early 20s. He's an asshole. He just is because I wanted to write him loud, demanding, everything. There's 3 new characters thrown in because why not? Future Wife gets a name as well! A/N: I have no idea when Buggy became a Captain, so he's a fresh faced captain in this. No clue how long this fic will be. I just started on the 4th chapter but I'm excited to write it out! I had fun with the original fic and decided to write the prequel to how they met. Enjoy! Title comes from "Wake Me Up" by Avicii. TAGLIST (if you want to be added just let me know!): @lostfirefly @ane5e @kingofthemfingpirates (I didn't add others from the previous story because I didn't want to assume you'd want to be added, so please let me know if you want to be tagged<3)

Chapter 1 + Chapter 2 + Chapter 3 + Chapter 4 + Chapter 5 + Chapter 6 + Chapter 7 + Chapter 8 + Chapter 9 + Chapter 10 + Chapter 11 + Chapter 12 + Chapter 13 + Chapter 14 + Chapter 15 + Chapter 16 + Chapter 17 + Chapter 18 + Epilogue

Chapter 1

He burst into the shop like waves crashing against the rocks: loud and violent. The door slammed open, catching the two teen girls by surprise while your boss looked at him disapprovingly. The young man glared at her as he stomped up to the desk, removing his jacket with a flourish before throwing it down onto the counter.

“I need this repaired now!” He demanded as he dropped three buttons down on top of the fabric. “These damn things fell off!”

The older woman glared at him and crossed her arms. She wasn't bothered by some demanding young pirate like him. She was used to it having her shop in a town that was frequented by pirates of all experiences and ages. The upside was that the pirates paid well for her shop’s services, but the downside was the up and coming pirates with egos the size of the sea.

“And?” The shopkeeper retorted. “You come in here demanding help like that? Why should we help?”

He didn't expect the pushback and it showed on his face. “B-Because my coat is ruined and needs to be fixed!” He pointed to the three buttons that had fallen off, loose threads still attached to them. “I need these to be put back on!”

“Hm, one of my girls could do it, but I don't know if I want your business.”

“Excuse me?!” The pirate exclaimed. “Do you know who you're talking to?!”

“No, not at all.”

Before the pirate could explode into a tirade you stepped into the shop from the backroom, frowning as you came to see what the noise was about. There was your boss, not taking any shit from the young pirate who looked like he had steam coming out of his ears. The other two apprentices were working at a table nearby, watching the exchange take place.

“What's going on?” You asked as you walked over to your boss. You saw the coat and reached out to touch the fabric. “Oh, this is lovely. What's wrong with it?”

“The buttons fell off.” The pirate told you, jaw clenched as he glared at your boss. The older woman didn't back down, arms crossed as she stared right back at him.

“Oh, I can fix that.” You said as you collected the buttons and picked up the coat. You smiled at the pirate; he swallowed heavily and looked uncomfortable with you taking his things away like that. “Can you give me about an hour?”

Your boss turned her attention to you with her eyes narrowed. “You don't have to, I was about to kick him out.”

“I don't mind.” You said with a smile. “We shouldn't turn business away.”

Your boss grumbled and looked at the pirate. “Tell me your name and then come back in an hour, do you understand?”

He didn't hear her at first, too busy staring at you as you walked away with the buttons in one hand and his coat draped over your arm. Why did you offer to help after he just made a scene? The boss was glaring at him and waved her hand in front of his face.

“Young man? Your name?” She insisted. He finally looked at her, a scowl on his face once more.

“Captain Buggy the Clown.”

She said nothing as she wrote his name down on a claim ticket. She tore the ticket and gave one half to him. “One hour and you better have berry to pay.”

He snatched it out of her hand, glaring at her as he turned to storm out of the shop. Your boss just shook her head. She loved having you around but at the same time you caused as much trouble as the ruffian pirates who came by. Hopefully he would just be a one time customer.

When he returned an hour later, you were at the counter. His coat was hanging up behind you, the buttons reattached and shining like new coins. The rest looked brand new as well. He frowned as you looked up from your book. You smiled brightly when you saw him and he avoided your gaze, turning his attention back to his fixed coat.

“You're back!” You beamed as you turned to get the coat for him. “I fixed the three that fell off and made sure the rest were properly sewn on as well, so you shouldn't have any problems with them.”

Buggy took the coat from you, inspecting the buttons by tugging on them. They were secured, even better than before, and they all looked like they had been polished by how shiny they were. He looked at you suspiciously as he put his coat back on. You walked around the counter to him and he took a step back. Without a word you smoothed out the shoulders of the coat, ensuring they laid flat before you reached down to lift the hem of the coat up, pointing to the inside.

“The lining was starting to come undone so I mended that for you as well.” You pointed out before dropping it and straightening back up. Buggy’s face started to redden as he continued to scowl.

“I'm not paying you for extra work!” He snapped. You smiled at him and shook your head.

“It's a courtesy.” You told him as you went to grab his bill. “You're paying just for the three buttons I sewed back on, everything else I chose to do.”

He took the bill from you, scowl now a frown. “Why?”

“Hm? Why what?”

“Why did you do all that extra mending?” He asked, suspicion in his voice as he reached into his pocket for payment. “What do you want from me?”

“Oh!” You chuckled and shook your head. “Nothing, but pirates pass through here all the time and I don't want you to have to come back for more services, you know. I figured if I got your coat into a newer condition you wouldn't have to come back.”

Honestly, you were providing the ultimate customer service to him, but Buggy thought it was almost insulting you didn't want him to come back. Sure, once he got back on his ship he wouldn't come back this way, but at the same time…

He glared at you and grabbed your hand, slamming the payment onto your palm. His cheeks were red like his nose at that moment, and before you could check to see if he paid the right amount he hurried from the shop, door slamming behind him. You shrugged and went behind the counter, counting out the berry. He paid over what the cost of services were and you sighed. He didn't even wait for his change.

“He was scary.” Livia whined over dinner that night as you stood at the stove, stirring the soup while Edith set the table. “Is that pirate going to come back?”

“No, I don't think he will.” You assured her as you flashed her a smile. “I made sure his coat was like new, so don't worry.”

“Why were you even nice to him?” Edith asked with a frown. “He was a jerk to Miss Pins.”

“I was taught to be nice to everyone because you don't know everyone's story, you know?” You told the younger girls. They were newer apprentices for Miss Pins while you were nearing the end of your 10 year apprenticeship. The two were only 14 and 15, whereas you were about to turn 24 with your birthday a few months away. “He could be really nice and just having a bad day.”

“Or he's just mean “ Livia said, making a face. “And did you see his nose? D’you think that was real or fake?”

“I bet it was fake.” Edith said as she sat down. “It seems like a lot of pirates have themes and stuff. I heard there was one who had a crew called the Black Cats and I think his ship has cats on it.” She looked over at you. “So that clown pirate is probably wearing it just for show.”

You just shrugged as you checked the flavor of the soup before adding in some ginger to it. “I wouldn’t know, but dinner is ready. Livia, can you go get Miss Pins? And Edith, can you slice some bread for us?”

Livia pushed away from the table and bounced out of the kitchen to go find their caretaker. Edith looked at you as she started cutting some slices of bread.

“He was really mean, you know.” She said as she put the pieces on a plate. “I don’t think you should have been so nice to him. What if he comes back?”

“I’ll still be nice to him because there’s no reason not to be.” You told her as you went to the table to grab the bowls one by one, filling them with soup. “And he wasn’t a threat, just loud.”

“I didn’t like how loud he was.” Edith sighed.

“If he comes back, just call for me and I’ll help him.” You assured her. “Honestly.”

The younger girl didn’t look convinced but didn’t say anything. Livia returned a few minutes later with Miss Pins and everyone sat down. Dinner was always a peaceful affair, discussing how the day went and what to expect for the next day. Mostly it was assigning the younger girls chores and tasks while you helped Miss Pins with the running of the shop. You had some errands to run in the morning before the shop opened, grabbing groceries and just stretching your legs.

When everyone finished, you took care of cleaning the kitchen while the two girls went to their shared room. Your boss looked at you from her place at the table.

“If that pirate shows up again, you turn him away.” She told you. “I didn’t like him one bit.”

“He’s not the first one to act like that.” You replied as you wiped down the counter. “And he won’t be the last.”

“I didn’t care for him.”

You grinned at your boss. “You don’t like anyone who comes in the door if they aren’t kissing your feet and saying how wonderful you are.”

“Well, they should be saying how wonderful I am since I’m the only one on this damn island willing to help those pesky pirates.” She retorted as she glared at you. “I’m serious, if he comes in you turn him away.”

“Okay, okay. If he comes in I’ll tell him we’re closed.” You smiled. “I don’t think he’d believe me but I’ll make sure to tell him.”

#buggy the clown #buggy the clown x reader #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x you #opla buggy the clown #opla buggy the clown x reader #opla buggy x reader #opla buggy the clown x you #opla buggy x you #buggy the clown x oc #buggy x oc #opla buggy the clown x oc #opla buggy x oc #sunny x buggy #one piece #one piece oc #one piece fanfiction

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chvnnie · 1 year

Note

Bro, fkn made me tear up while I'm in my PMS week Lawd have mercy.

Your response was so sweet,

Okay but what would happen if they reunited years later when he has had children?

Would that spark be there?

Would he avoid her?

Would she not want to see him with another woman?

Will they enjoy one final night together?

Decisions, decisions 🤔

do you guys enjoy seeing me suffer like—

blaming you for how much I love this fucking couple and the way I couldn’t stop writing this!!! AND I TRIED!!!

it’s long. im apologizing now.

SMUT — MINORS DNI

You never fell out of contact with Chan.

Well, maybe for a few months. When everything was still fresh. It hurt too much to even see his name in your contact list; talking to him would have shattered every atom inside you.

Everything stops hurting eventually. When he called you one day, exactly five months and three days after the world ended, the pain was almost numbed. As your phone vibrated in your hand, you realized it wasn’t what you were that you missed. It was him. Chan. Your best friend, even long before the two of you became one.

You answered. And suddenly the atoms started to bounce together, the world rebuilding from scratch.

The years passed. The planet flourished. Not a day went by without a word shared between the two of you. Weddings were held — Chan’s, insistent that you were always meant to be by his side. Begging you to be his “best woman”.

“You were always meant to be at my wedding.” He said after you denied the request over and over, a little tipsy on the bottle of wine you were sharing at his engagement party. “Please. It can’t happen without you.”

The thought was shared, but never spoken. Off to the side isn’t where either of you pictured your place in it.

Yours. A spur of the moment decision, overwhelmed from planning a party that neither you or your husband really wanted. A quick search proved that tickets to Vegas were far cheaper. A bottle of shitty champagne was shared over fast food burgers that really weren’t that filling.

Or, you tell yourself it was the burger.

Your best friend almost passed out at your monthly double date night. After the shock wore off, and after he chugged a glass or two of bourbon, he smile at you from across the table.

But it looks a little sad.

“I guess you can’t help your wants, huh?”

Other milestones passed. Big birthdays, new jobs and promotions, two babies for Chan, a dog for you. All was well; the sun shining, flowers blooming, the world finally stable again.

The first earthquake came the day of the youngest’s third birthday party.

You’re in Chan’s kitchen, digging through the adult cooler for the seltzers you brought. Did somebody drink them all? Ugh, you knew that fucking bitch from across the street was being a little too sneaky with her beverage. Wait until you hit her with that cash request after the party—

The backdoor opens quickly, two sets of feet rushing inside followed by a loud slam. You jump, quickly hiding in the pantry before they can make it into the kitchen.

“Will you just talk to me?” It’s Chan.

“How many times are you going to ask me about it?” His wife. “Fuck, can you just drop it—“

“I just think it’s pretty convenient that your boss brings up another business trip, just the two of you, today.”

Silence. A drawer slams.

“Are you really going to ruin your son’s party like this, Christopher?”

The snicker Chan gives raises the hairs on your arm. “Are you really going to keep pretending like you’re not fucking your boss?”

You have to clasp a hand over your mouth to silence the loud gasp that escapes you. It’s not like it was any secret that they’re having problems; he confided in you months ago that things have started to get rocky. Never, ever, did you expect this, though.

She storms out, saying something under your breath that you can’t hear. Door slams. Chan sighs into the empty kitchen, probably running his fingers through his hair if had to guess—

“I know you’re in there.” He sounds defeated. “You left your phone on the counter.”

Shit.

Slowly, you crack the door open, peeking out of the dark pantry. Your friend is leaning against the sink, arms crossed across his broad chest. There’s a small smile on his pain stricken face, eyes crinkling at the outer corners. Age treated him well.

“I wasn’t listening.”

“You’ve always been a terrible liar.”

You step out of the pantry fully, walking slowly up to your friend. There’s enough space next to him for you, which you take. Leaning side by side, staring out the large window at the party. It carries on; children laughing, eating cake. Parents chatting, chasing kids. All this joy on the other side of the thin glass, completely oblivious to the trembling beneath their feet.

You speak first. “How long have you known?”

“A while.” Chan takes a deep breath, trying to relax his shoulders. “I had hoped when she switched departments it would stop but…yeah.”

Outside the window, the curly haired boy turns in a circle. His little eyes are wide and bright, searching the crowd of grownups for a familiar face. His mom’s back is turned, he doesn’t see her. Though you’re sure he’s actually speaking, all you see is his mouth move.

Dada?

When he can’t find him, another name comes from his mouth. Scanning the sea of people for you.

The second quake comes three months later.

Chan and his wife are in therapy, and though all appears well, the cracks are deep. Wide. You can see right through the facade.

It’s cold outside. Even through your thick jacket, you can feel the heavy winter breeze. It freezes your nose, numbs your lips. You walk quickly, dog trotting alongside you in the same rush. The little boots he wears protects his paws, yet he still whimpers.

When was the last time Christmas Eve was this cold?

There’s a fire crackling when you open the front door, your dog barely off the leash before she barrels to it. Jumping on her little boots, trying to warm up.

“Fuck, it’s cold.” You curse, shedding the many layers you wore. “I literally thought I was going to get frostbite.”

Your husband doesn’t give more than a hum in acknowledgment, nose in his book. Plopping on the couch next to him, you lean in to give him a kiss.

And he moves away.

“All good?” The concern is heavy in your voice.

Nothing. Just a hum.

“Can I have a kiss?”

“I’m busy.”

“Reading. The same book you read every winter.”

It’s harsh, the way he slams the book shut. When he looks up at you, you can help but recoil. Scooting just a bit back from him. The look in his eyes is so…different.

“Can you just give me some fucking space? Please?” He doesn’t raise his voice, and that makes it all the more concerning. Scary. “God, you’re so clingy all the time.”

Oh. Your eyes drop, lips pressing into a thin line. Jeez, why does this cut so deep? It’s not the first time he’s said it to you.

“I guess—I just thought, since it’s Christmas—“

“Eve.” He’s annoyed. You awkwardly adjust yourself on the couch, bringing a sweater clad hand to your face to wipe the tears you can’t help. “Oh, please, stop crying. It’s not that deep.”

There’s a tree on the planet. It’s tall, home to leaves that change colors. Usually, it’s day by day, depending on the waves and the weather and the stars. All day they’ve been a sparkly light green. Peace. A good color.

But they’ve started to bleed, something dark taking over the peace just as the ground begins to break.

Your husband picks the book up. Not another word to you. Heart in your stomach, you head towards the staircase. “I’m going to bed.”

He doesn’t look up from the book. “Take your fucking dog with you.”

The most impactful quake comes a mere three weeks later.

You’re sat on the living room floor, a brush handled by a five year old girl roughly running through your hair. It stings a little, but there’s no point in stopping her. She’s too stubborn to listen.

“Why don’t you wear braids?” She asked in her little voice.

“Never thought about it.” You shrug.

She sighs as if this is the most awful thing you could’ve have told her. “But you would be a princess if you wore them!”

You turn your head slightly, looking up at the girl. Her eyes are her father’s, along with the exasperated look she’s giving you.

“Shit, really?”

You cringe at the word choice, but the little girl doesn’t even flinch.

“Yes.” She sighs. “Turn around, I help you.”

Can’t really argue with that. Right as you think she’s taken at least half of your hair, Chan comes into the living room. Headed straight for the front door.

“Alright, the youngest is asleep.” He’s reaching for his coat, checking his watch obsessively. He’s late. “Pizza is on the way, don’t let the monster stay up too late.”

Finger guns to his daughter, who just ignored him. Not amused with his stupid joke.

“I shouldn’t be long, maybe three hours tops.” Chan says to you. “Changbin has kids to get home to, so I’ll be back before you can miss me too much.”

You flip him off. The daughter follows.

“Okay, don’t like do that at school or anything-“

“We’ll be alright.” You say, trying to get him out the door. Things have been more tense that usual lately; it took all of Changbin’s energy to convince him to get a drink with him. Nothing is going to keep him in this house. “Don’t have too much fun.”

The smile he gives you is so genuine. Real happiness. It’s been a while since you’ve seen that.

The pizza? Mediocre at best. The movie she picked? You hate how invested you were in that storyline. It’s like you blinked and it was time for bed, helping the little girl into her bright blue sheets.

She picks the book for you to read. Four pages, and she’s snoring.

You’ve never liked kids. Never really wanted them, either. While you still hold these sentiments, it’s hard to not like her. Her brother. There’s something about them that’s different, tugging on your heart so hard you think it will pop out of your chest.

Kids are awful. But Chan’s? You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of.

She’s been asleep about thirty minutes. Mindlessly, you click through the tv channel, trying to decide on something. Barely nine in the evening, and there’s nothing to watch? That seems like a scam—

Bang. Thunder. Flashes of lightning. The world shaking harder than it has since it’s birth about ten years ago. Chan storms inside his home, the heavy footsteps making you jump.

“Fuck!” You cry, holding a hand over your heart as you try to catch your breath. “You scared me—“

“She’s not on a trip.” He’s tearing off his coat, kicking off his shoes. Slamming the keys and wallet on the coffee table.

The wheels are turning slowly, but when they click, you feel cold. A blizzard tumbling through the planet. “What?”

Everything was fine. Chan was happy, talking with Changbin and sharing shitty wings over even shittier beer. For a second, he forgot. Forgot about his wife and her affair, the therapy that he honestly felt was a waste of time. The divorce papers in the top drawer of his office, already signed and ready to be present when his wife gets back.

He just needed to pee. Walking towards the back of the crowded bar, he saw a set of eyes he knew too well. It brings him to a halt, looking right at his wife. Who is staring right back at him. With the arm of her boss around her shoulders.

“How many times has she said she was going to be gone, just to stay in town with him?” Chan asks, his voice rising as the storm gets heavier. “Does she not give a shit about our children—“

“Who are sleeping.” You add, grabbing your friend’s biceps and squeezing them tightly. He’s getting too worked up. The feelings he had for her are long, long gone. Buried so deep they’ll never be found.

He’s not mad about the cheating. He’s mad about how she’s abandoned the children.

Chan nods before he sits on the couch. Head hanging in his hands, nails scratching his scalp. Exhausted. Lonely. Broken.

“Why did I fucking marry her?”

You take a seat next to him, leaning your head on his shoulder. Your best friend, your everything. Soulmates always seem like an unbelievable concept, until you met Chan. Without a doubt, he is one of yours.

Though, the universe still seems torn on the kind.

“She wasn’t always like this.” You reassure him. “Remember how hard you fell for her? It was really cute; you couldn’t stop talking about her. Nobody expected this, Chan.”

“I did.” When he looks at you, his eyes are dark. Wide. Solid, serious expression not waving even in the intense winds. “I always knew. She never loved me like I loved—“

The sentence isn’t finished. It doesn’t need to be.

Like that, the rain has stopped. Thunder silenced, sky dark. Time has been paused, standing still as you stare at each other in the dimly lit living room. It doesn’t feel like you’re breathing. Like anything is happening.

Except for a teeny, tiny spark. Rock against rock. Fire being invented once again.

Time resumes as Chan pulls you into his lap, lips colliding intensely. His tongue is heavy on yours, deeply kissing you as if to consume you. To make up for all the kisses that should have been.

This affair isn’t driven by hurt, by the agony caused at the hands of both your spouses. It isn’t jealousy, it isn’t hate. It’s a love that always was, always will, and was always meant to be at the core of the universe.

Even the apocalypse couldn’t destroy it.

Ten years. Ten years and Chan still knows how to touch you. The little place on your collarbone that turns you into jelly. How you love when he bites roughly on your nipples, the teasing of his fingers hooking under the waistband of your jeans.

“I hate that you got married in Vegas.” He says in a growl, lowering you onto the coffee table. “I hate that you didn’t fucking tell me until you got back.”

He yanks your jeans down, taking the soft cotton panties will them. Body bare for him once again.

“I hate that I wasn’t there.” The buttons become loose as he roughly takes his shirt off. He watches as your eyes travel, following his hands to the belt he’s pulling off. A familiar awe.

It’s cute. Sets his heart on fire in the best way possible.

Grabbing your chin, he tilts your head so you’re looking at him again.

“Pay attention to me when I talk to you, baby.” He says with a smile, wetting his lips before capturing yours again. “Don’t you want to know why I hated that so much?”

You blink slowly, giving a brief nod.

Hips against hips, the head of his cock works it’s way up and down your silt. A beautiful moan, a cold shiver. Everything falling into place as he lines himself up.

“Because I was going to say no.”

He doesn’t linger. Quickly, Chan buries himself inside you, fucking you with a passion you haven’t felt in years.

“How dare you-“ hands on either side of your head, he grips the coffee table for support. “—marry someone who isn’t me?”

You’re breathless. Jaw dropped, clinging onto his shoulders for dear life. It’s like no time has passed; fucking you like you need, like you deserve. Something only Chan has ever been able to do.

“You’re my girl, remember?” He grunts, eyes rolling back slightly when you clench around him. “How could you forget that?”

Shaking your head, your head rolls back. Full, wonderful moans like music to Chan’s ears.

“N-never did.” You admit, chest shaking with heavy breaths. “I’ve always been y-yours, Chan-“

When he kisses you, the world splits in two. Existence finally starting to make sense. Teeth and tongue, he loves you in the best way anyone ever has. Bodies becoming one, forces beyond your own making you whole once more.

He looks at you. Your heart skips a beat.

Has this world always been full of life, or is it all brand new? Could life exist without the two of you?

“Good.” Chan’s smile is like home. “Because I’ll never stop wanting you.”

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #chan smut #bang chan angst #chan angst #chvnnie thots

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awfcspencer · 4 months

Text

Christmas Lights || leah williamson x reader

leah williamson x reader

prompt: Going to see christmas lights with Leah

warnings: slight mention of Leahs’s injury, fluff, kissing

a/n: getting close to christmas! enjoy! dont forget to drink water & eat, get a good nights rest, all the sorts.

Entering December, the temperature in north London dropped dramatically. The leaves have fallen, leaving the trees bare. Pulling into your shared home with Leah, you notice that surrounding neighbors have began putting up Christmas lights, some having extremely elaborate decorations.

“Hey baby, I am home” you yell towards your living room where Leah is sat watching a Christmas movie.

“Hi baby” she says as she goes to greet you and pull you in for a quick kiss. “I made some hot chocolate when I got home from training to warm up.”

Making your way to the kitchen, you make yourself a cup and turn towards her, “How was training?”

“It was good, I was able to run today and kick a few balls today!” she says as you can see Leah truly smile. When she tore her ACL, you could tell Leah was slightly lost without football and it was hard for her to not be able to play. Nothing made you more excited and emotional thinking about her return to the pitch.

“Good baby, I am so happy and proud of you. What are the plans for tonight?” you ask as you do not particularly recall any specific plans but seeing the Christmas lights on your way in has an idea occurring in your mind.

“We don’t have any prior plans, what were you thinking baby?” she asks with a bit of question in her voice.

“Lets go downtown and look at the Christmas lights.”

Leah is immediately excited, Christmas has always held a special place in Leah’s heart and she loved any chance she got to engage in any Christmas related activities. “What a great idea! We will need to put on a few more layers though” she says as she looks down and she is only in your jumper and some basic black shorts.

Quickly running upstairs and throwing on your large black puffer jacket, Leah puts on a pair of black pants with a white long sleeved body suit, and finished it off with a black puffer as well. You make sure to grab some gloves and a beanie for yourself.

“Ready to go baby?” you ask her.

“Yes baby, let’s go! I am so excited!” Leah says with a large smile as you know this has been on her list of to-dos for a bit now. Hoping to spend some quality time with you as both of you have been a bit busy during the Christmas time.

You knew a spot that has several beautiful lights located in a nearby park. The drive was fairly quick as Leah tended to disobey every traffic law and speed like her life depended on it. Although you genuinely fear for your life at times when she is behind the wheel, she typically has one hand on the steering wheel and the other on your thigh, you couldn’t imagine anything hotter so you let her drive as she wanted. Always her passenger princess with no complaints.

Pulling into a parking spot near the entrance, Leah jumps out of the car, excitement taking over her, acting like a kid who was let loose in a candy store.

“Come on baby!” she whined, pulling your hand, ushering you faster.

“Baby I promise you, the lights are not going anywhere” you tell her but it is in one ear and out the other for Leah.

Leah is a woman on a mission, guiding you to the entrance and quickly pays the admission fee.

“Baby I was going to pay!” you whine, always feeling back whenever Leah pays for you.

“I am just trying to get us in before New Years” she says impatiently, forcing you to laugh.

Walking through the guided path, hand in hand, Leah and you take your time looking at each light display, taking in each fixture. There were not many people left in the park as it was starting to get a bit late. There is light snow falling from the sky now.

“It is like a Christmas miracle baby!” Leah beams as this is possibly the most perfect night. The snow falling mixed with the lights, made your Christmas spirit flourish.

Right before exiting the park, there is an arch wishing you both a merry Christmas. Leah pulls you under the arch and points upwards, “Look baby.”

You look up and see small mistletoe. Immediately you pull Leah in for a sensual kiss. The kiss lasting probably longer than it should, you pull away to catch your breath.

“Alright baby, let’s keep it PG in a public park.” you laugh out and interlock your hands, heading towards the car.

“Tonight was really special babe, I loved it!” Leah said to you.

“I am glad you enjoyed baby.” you smile at her, heart full.

#woso x reader #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso community #woso soccer #woso couples #woso #leah williamson x you #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc

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4pfsukuna · 1 month

Note

Love love LOVE the asexual drabbles and headcannons! Could you do one with Gojo & black asexual woman? Like she teases him ‘i’ll only mess around if you give me a dollar’ as a snarky joke and he’s like ‘i’m rich baby hell yes’ and keeps the joke running🤭 I know i’ll enjoy anything you write! Thank you in advance!

OMG, thank you im glad you love them because i actually love writing them.

• You met him at the mall…the prada store to be exact, you weren’t necessarily shopping more so just debating on a purse or a pair of boots.

•You were a stylist in japan and your clients loved your American style although they had way cooler clothes. Safe to say business was flourishing.

•Yet here you are trying not to blow through money too fast so you were Legit window shopping.

.•The last thing you expect is a white haired man to stand next to you and startle you, you assume he’s going to say something about your hair as most people had done i mean you were a black person in japan.

• He’s holding a few bags and a cup you initially assume he’s blind because of the blindfold but when he begins to talk about the shoe, your slightly confused but you have decorum so you don’t say anything.

• “I’ve had my eye on the bag for a few weeks but they just dropped the new boots so I’m debating” you say and what’s $950 To any normal person its like a penny to him.

• “How about i buy both and you wear them on our first date” he says smoothly leaning up against the glass window and you laugh at first until you realize hes dead serious. You weren’t use to men here flirting with you and it makes you nervous.

• “Usually people start off with their names” you tell him before introducing yourself as you hold out your hand which he places a kiss on.

• “Gojo Satoru” lifting his blindfold revealing the brightest blue eyes you’ve ever seen

• You also notice he has a tag hanging off his shirt and it cost $1500.

• You decline him buying the stuff for you but accept his offer for a date. What’s the worst that could happen?

• He doesn’t know what he’s expecting when he sees you, he thought you were already gorgeous at the mall but looking at you right now it makes something… stir.

• He told you to dress cute but casual he was taking you sight seeing— he never mentioned it would be in a helicopter over the city.

• It’s obvious this man has money to blow and you contemplate looking him up to figure out just who he is.

• He also brings the shoes and bag as a gift, he couldn’t resist! Plus he likes loves the way your face initially lights up before trying to be humble and give it back.

• He lies and tells you its rude to not accept gifts.

• “Gojo i cant accept this without you knowing all about me…” you speak pouting knowing the good time was coming to an end and while the shoes and bag looked perfect you had to confess.

• “Its the wrong size?” He asked looking at your foot and back at the box on the table.

•“What? No strangely enough you got the right size…im asexual”

•“…thats… cool. I can write with both hands too”

“Gojo thats ambidextrous! Asexual means—“

• “Im just kidding sweetheart, of course i know what it means”

•He definitely did not and googled it under the table.

• You know the meme “we hung out once and weve been together ever since” that was you two.

• The next few weeks he finds time to either take you to breakfast, lunch or dinner and on days hes completely free he’ll take you on some one of a kind date experience.

• Hes a kid at heart so when you take him to a virtual reality place and literally fight to pay, you have to distract him by kissing him and biting gently on his lower lip.

•He loved it nobodys every paid for anything for him and the fact that you planned the date, paid and had a great experience hes lovestruck.

• He ended up paying since he put a hole in the wall fighting demons in the game mentioning something about it feeling to real.

•Its when 3 of his students run into you two and their shocked he’s not harassing you and actually enjoying voluntarily spending time with him, mainly because he has no idea who you are.

• Nobara follows all of your socials loving your day in the life videos, style advice videos even when you have your celebrity clients in the videos.

•Its megumi knowing who you are and thinking you’re cool that seals the deal for him.

•Gojo loves your cooking so the day you pack him leftovers with a cute smiley face and a note hes literally on the desk kicking his feet in the air… weirding out his students. This was next level even for him.

•They beg to bring you around loving seeing him happy with you.

•Its a collective though and nobara who wants to enjoy regular teen things breaks the ice officially by asking

“Take this dollar or have sex with Gojo-sensei?”

“Give me the dollar” at the same time he shouts her name. Hes also taken aback cause what do you mean youre going to take the dollar.

“No babe i dont think you heard the question take a dollar or—“

“Give me the dollar”

•For the rest of the day Gojo chooses to be dramatic from the grocery store to the hair supply store where guess whos short $1 of buying hair supplies. You turn to him seeing hes fascinated with the hair clips and different color edge controls.

•“Hey sweetheart i think you should get all of these” he suggest ready to pick them all up waiting on your command.

•“Hey babe im short” you tell him and he scoffs not paying you any mind looking at the conditioners catagorized by hair type.

“I knew that when i first seen you… what’s your hair type? Does 4b mean 4 everyone? Like your down for interracial dating… how do they know that by hair type? Like hard wig soft life?” He rambles and you almost lose it.

“No im short $1” and he sends you the most devious smirk as he holds open his wallet repeating the question Nobara asked.

“Give me the dollar” you smirk back watching his smile be taken over by a glare as he gives the cashier his card to pay for everything instead.

“Dont give me that look baby, im rich now come on i ordered a package for you” he loves to buy you things he jokingly ask siri how much the world cost one time.

“Satoru it better not be another pair of prada shoes” you scold as he carries the bags, his silence tells you everything you need to know though.

“Babe I’m running out of space to put all the stuff you bought me, please” you pout loving that this was a problem in your relationship and not anything else.

“I have enough space… You can live with me instead”

#gojo x black reader #gojo x black y/n #jjk smut #megumi x black reader #gojo satoru #asexuakual x black girl #Gojo x asexual reader #jjk x reader #asexual #jjk x asexual

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sixlane · 3 months

Text

tricks up sleeves and all that

rosekiller microfic | 1,180 words | magician Barty, single dad Evan

The first thing Evan thought when his daughter told him she wanted a magician at her birthday party was how did I raise a child who enjoys close-up magic? It wouldn’t have been his first choice, probably wouldn’t have even been his last. He would’ve gone with something classier, more elegant, like a tea party or a day at the museum. Something to live up to the extravagance of previous years. Sure, Eleanor is only seven but that doesn’t mean she can’t enjoy the finer things.

So, in between meetings and phone calls, Evan researched children’s birthday party magicians, and as you’d expect, not much was living up to his standards. After days of sifting through resumes and background checks, he was eventually able to find a well-designed website with good reviews and speak to a representative who promised to send their best.

This is why Evan is so confused when he opens his front door to find a tall, lanky man in ripped jeans and a worn out t-shirt, his look complete with ruffled hair, an eyebrow piercing, and excessive amounts of tattoos.

“You must have the wrong house,” Evan says. He thinks he should probably close the door but something about this man is intriguing. He wants to look for just a second longer.

The man leans back to check the address beside the door. “You’re Mr. Rosier, right? I’m here for the birthday party. I’m Barty, the magician.”

Evan raises a brow. “You don’t look like a magician.”

“Were you expecting a full tuxedo? It’s like 95 degrees out.” A tilted grin spreads over his face, showing off a pointy canine. “Here let me show you.” Before Evan can back away, Barty is reaching behind his ear and producing a shiny quarter, flipping it between his fingers confidently. “Ta da.”

“That’s hardly magic,” Evan says, crossing his arms. He better get a full refund if this is the best they had.

“No, you’re right. That’s just the decoy.” He raises his left hand, and between his thumb and pointer finger he holds Evan’s watch, which had previously been secured to his wrist.

Evan’s mouth drops open slightly. He hadn’t even felt it. “That’s not magic either, that is literally stealing.” He snatches the watch back, putting it on.

“It’s the art of misdirection,” Barty explains. “I do a dumb coin trick, and while you’re paying attention to that, I do something more impressive. It’s like, the basis of all magic.”

Evan doesn’t even know what to say. This man has just pickpocketed him on his own front porch and now he wants Evan to let him into his house?

At the same time Evan is getting ready to slam the door in Barty’s face, Eleanor appears at his hip, smile wider than a mile across her face.

“Is this the magician, Dad?” she asks, tugging at his shirt while she bounces up and down.

“You must be Eleanor,” Barty says, squatting down so they’re at eye level. He’s performing now, Evan can tell. He lights up and his smugness from before is washed away. “Would you like to pick a card?”

Eleanor nods enthusiastically.

Barty pulls a deck out of his back pocket and starts shuffling. Evan watches the way his fingers move deftly around the cards. Bending and flipping them expertly before fanning them out in front of her.

“Okay, go ahead. But don’t tell me what your card is, just show it to your dad and put it back anywhere in the deck.”

Eleanor does as instructed and shows Evan the card, ace of hearts, before sliding it back in.

“Thanks Eleanor, that’s great.” He starts shuffling the cards again, adding in flourishes here and there. Evan watches intently, trying to track his every move, see where he might be switching cards out or taking a peek, but he moves too quickly for Evan to stay on top of everything. “Now Ellie, can I call you Ellie?” Eleanor giggles and nods her head. “Your dad here,” he tilts his head up at Evan, “has already seen me do a trick similar to this, but I think I can put a new spin on it, what do you say?”

Eleanor looks up at Evan, affronted. “Dad! You’ve been playing with the magician without me?”

Evan hears Barty try to stifle a laugh and feels the beginning of a tension headache spreading behind his eyes. “I was just making sure he was up to our standards,” he grits out.

“Don’t worry Ellie, your dad was just doing his due diligence.” Eleanor looks appeased and waves her hand in a motion that tells Barty to continue. He does one last shuffle and then reaches behind Eleanor’s ear. When he pulls back, he has the ace of spades in between his pointer and middle fingers. “So Ellie, was this your card?”

She looks confused and a little disappointed. Evan holds himself back from kicking Barty directly in the face. “Um… close,” she says. “Mine had hearts on it.”

Barty looks at the card. “Huh. You know, sometimes the cards don’t always do what we want them to so we have to shake some sense into them. He starts waving the card quickly back and forth. When it comes to a stop, Barty holds the ace of hearts where the ace of spades had previously been. He smiles in triumph. Evan still kind of wants to kick him in the face.

Eleanor lets out an excited squeal and rushes forward to tackle Barty into a hug. “Can we keep him, Dad?” she screams directly in Barty’s ear. He doesn’t even flinch.

Evan lets out a resigned sigh. He’s really never been able to deny Eleanor anything, so he steps to the side, opening the door wider, a smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “Of course Eleanor. Go gather your friends in the living room. Barty will be right in.” He places a hand on her head as she runs by.

Barty stands up and straightens his pants out, sliding the deck back into his pocket. “Good enough?” he asks, shrugging a shoulder.

Evan scrutinizes him for a second, running his eyes over every inch of the man. The line of his cheekbone, the curve of his neck, the way his thumb rubs a circle into the side of his pointer finger. There’s something about him. Evan hasn’t heard Eleanor scream that loud since Pandora got her a bug collection kit for Christmas last year.

“I want you to know that I keep a detailed inventory of everything in my home, so if you steal something I will find out, and you won't be happy about the consequences.”

Barty smiles, something mischievous glinting in his eye. “We’ll see about that,” he says brushing past Evan to make his way into the living room. Evan closes the door behind him. Right before Barty turns the corner, he throws something over his shoulder. Without thinking, Evan catches it. His wallet. With the ace of hearts sticking mockingly out of the top.

#this came to me in a dream #idk they make sense to me #like pickpocket barty who goes on to be a children's birthday party magician?#evan hires him for every event after this and always offers to hang up his jacket meanwhile he's seam ripping his sleeves open #trying to figure out where barty keeps everything #then sewing them back up #rosekiller #barty crouch jr.#evan rosier #evan x barty #barty x evan #rosekiller microfic #lane writes #marauders fanfic #marauders #microfic tag

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everlasting-elegy · 11 months

Text

Caelus Relationship Headcanons

Genre: Fluff, Friends to Lovers Word Count: 1k TRAILBLAZER FEELING IN THIS HOUSEHOLD RN - CAELUS, WHAT A PRETTY MAN <333 Also first Honkai Star Rail post WOWOWOWOWOWOW A/N: Of course, being the MC there are various interpretations of Caelus’ personality but this is just mine, please enjoy~

Everyone on the Astral Express knew you two were going to be together before you became official. March 7 is very vocal about how she thinks you two look good together, Dan Heng gives just the slightest side-eye when you and Caelus hang out and Pom-Pom will make random complaints that you’re neglecting them for Caelus. Welt and Himeko will also make you two pair up for missions if only a duo is needed - or even for simple errands that could really be done solo

Despite that, it was hard for you to tell that Caelus liked you. He didn’t seem to treat you any differently to March 7 or Dan Heng (save for his tinted cheeks), he had no problem approaching you or interacting with you and he always enjoyed teasing you like a good friend with the rest of the group. It was only when the two of you were alone where the cracks would show, and he just makes terrible small talk as his mind draws blanks and he internally panics

“So… uh, nice weather today, huh?” “Caelus, we’re in space.” “Oh. Yeah. Right.”

When Caelus confessed to you, it was nothing excessive, in fact, he was a little too casual about it. You would usually have dinner together and one evening he started stuttering, saying he knew a fancy place to eat and that it could double up as a date. You needed him to repeat himself because you didn’t see it coming

While Caelus isn’t excessively loud or boisterous, he still carries himself with confidence and can dish out some good banter. Your relationship is full of those sorts of antics but when it comes to more serious and intimate moments, he gets shy very quickly. He’s not experienced with relationships and he can’t imagine anything worse than accidentally upsetting you. He’s the type to ramble on when uncertain, narrating his stream of consciousness until not even he could remember what he was originally going to say. Wake him out of his stupor with a kiss and he’ll be back in the moment with you (he still can’t remember what he wanted to say, though)

Caelus is your #1 fan, that man is rooting for you for everything. You need him for support in a fight? His weapon is at the ready. You want him around to help you study? He’s not the best at staying quiet but he tries his damn hardest for you. Do you need a break from any activity? Caelus is running in with a towel and refreshments and asking if you need anything else as he gives you a shoulder massage

Despite Caelus being very protective, he will never stop you if you want to do something dangerous such as joining him in battle. He wants to see you flourish and grow, and if that means being in harm’s way, then at least let him join you as your shield so that you two can get through this challenge together. For you, he’s ride or die, and to be fair that strategy has worked perfectly for the two of you so far

“One man’s trash is a Trailblazer’s treasure”; Caelus will bring back many trinkets for you from his travels, so much so that one wall of your room is just covered in his gifts. If they are indeed fished out from a trash can you won’t be able to tell, he loves to tinker and polish items until they’re unique and personalised just for you - you only deserve the best

No matter how frequently he’s gifted you little items, Caelus acts as though it’s the first time. He tries to play it off as something casual, that you shouldn’t think about the gift too much and he doesn’t mind if you’re not keen on it, but his face is bright red, one hand is nervously scratching the back of his neck and he can’t look you in the eyes

Caelus isn’t excessive on the PDA, but he’s still always touching you. He’ll gladly walk around holding hands and swinging arms or linking arms, or having his arm draped across your shoulders, and you’re not safe from pecks on the face and lips. He also loves to give hugs as a greeting and goodbye. He has no problem initiating affection but whenever you do you can literally see him perk up like a meerkat and walk around with a hop in his step. If you ever flirt or compliment him he gives back the sweetest, beaming smile that seems to contain the light of an entire Stellaron

Caelus is a bit of a gacha - and just general mobile games - addict, but he’ll always wait on pulling on the banner or opening a loot box until you’re with him. You’ve become his lucky charm and even though he only games to pass the time when there’s nothing to do, it’s not as fun if you’re not playing with him or at least watching and commentating

Sometimes you can liken Caelus to a puppy. If he’s bored or has nothing to do he’ll just… follow you around as you do your thing. If you need to enter a building alone or talk personally with someone, you can first expect him to get pouty before relenting and loitering around where you are outside. Whenever you enter the same room as him, expect him to immediately gravitate towards you

He’s an absolute nightmare when you two are separated, you’re not going to be able to go for five minutes without your phone vibrating about updates on the Astral Express and how lonely he is without you around and how you need to hurry up and finish what you need to do and- oh, Himeko just gave him permission to join you, give him fifteen minutes and you guys can spend the day together~

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