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ellecdc · 1 month

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can i request a reader x poly!marauders where the reader finds a stray kitten and she hides in her robes so she can feed it in morning and just carries it around school.

it’s the boys vs a kitten for reader’s attention, especially sirius sometimes he’s talking smack to the kitten who’s a asleep and then reader catches him and scolds him for it

loolllll poor Siri. Thanks for your request!

Sirius' Arch Nemesis

poly!marauders x fem!reader

CW: brief mention of Sirius' crappy childhood but very brief and it's only for dramatic effect (it's from Sirius' POV, obviously)

Some may deem this dramatic, but Sirius was very sure that this was quite possibly one of the worst things to have ever happened to him.

“Now, that’s a little dramatic, Pads.” Peter chided, watching you coo at a little bundle hidden beneath your robes as you fed it pieces of chicken at dinner.

“She used to feed me chicken like that.” Sirius pouted, causing Remus to snort.

“She’s never once fed you like that, Pads.”

“Awe, poor Siri.” James cooed, sounding awfully sympathetic to his musings; at least Sirius had one ally here. “Would you like me to feed you chicken like that?”

Sirius gave James his best kicked puppy impression (which was very easy seeing as he was a giant puppy and had spent his entire life training for it) and nodded. “Yes please, Jamie.”

James cooed again and pressed a kiss to Sirius’ cheek before dutifully stabbing a piece of chicken and bringing it to Sirius’ mouth.

“Merlin you guys are embarrassing.” Remus muttered as he turned back to watch you dote over the runty little kitten that you’d found in Hogsmeade last weekend all on its lonesome.

“You should leave it here, dovey. His mama may be looking for him.” Remus tried, though he couldn’t deny that the kitten did look particularly pathetic. The tiny thing was shaking, crying, and looked sort of wet or dirty - Remus may not know much but he was quite certain no kitty mama would let their little one walk around in such a state.

Remus nearly whimpered when you turned your face up to the three boys standing over you with tears in your eyes, your face overflowing with empathy. “Can we wait here then? To see if the mama comes back for him?”

Remus ignored the petulant whining’s from Sirius as he sat himself down beside you in camaraderie with nothing more than a sigh. How could he say no to such a reasonable albeit emotional request?

“Jamie?” You murmured, and Remus wasn’t sure how much of the pout was honest and how much of it was to gain sympathy for your cause, but James was quickly at your side.

“Yes, angel?”

“Do you think you could ask Madame Rosmerta for some water? Maybe tuna if she has some?”

James looked like he really didn’t want to do that but also felt he was in no position to deny you.

“Sure thing, sweetheart.” He conceded, pressing a kiss to your hair and causing Sirius to grumble.

“Why don’t you come with me, Pads? Once we bring it back we can head to Zonko's whist these two wait.” James offered, causing Sirius to brighten up considerably.

Needless to say, the mama cat never did show up and the kitten let out a number of pathetic little sneezes from its curled-up place in your lap.

“It’s getting dark, dove. Curfew is soon.” Remus reminded you gently.

“I can’t leave it here, Rem.” You moaned, still never raising your eyes from the kitten as it kneaded biscuits into your robes.

And Remus really hated to admit it, but he didn’t think you could leave it here either.

So, thanks to your bleeding heart and Remus’ lack of self-restraint when it came to anything you ever wanted, Sirius was effectively being replaced by a tiny little devil.

“I don’t know why you’re so wound up about this Black.” Marlene taunted from her place in her girlfriend’s lap as said girlfriend massaged her scalp on the couch of the Gryffindor common room. “It’s just a tiny kitten.”

“'Just a tiny kitten'.” Sirius sneered back at his best friend. “Right, so tell me, Miss. ‘My-Girlfriend-Is-Currently-Snuggling-And-Petting-Me-Right-At-This-Very-Moment’, what do you see my girlfriend doing right now?”

Marlene barely maneuvered her head from Dorcas’ lap to see you curled up near the fire with a book in your hand and that stupid kitten in your lap.

“She’s reading to her cat?” Dorcas responded bemusedly, clearly not seeing what the big deal is.

“Exactly!” Sirius huffed. “That should be me.”

“Oh, my gods.” Marlene grumbled as she stood from her place, grabbing Dorcas’ hand to pull her up too. “Can we go snuggle in the snake pit? I can’t handle Sirius’ level of dramatics tonight.”

“Some friend you are!” Sirius shouted at Marlene’s retreating form as the portrait hole closed behind them.

James and Remus were currently at a prefect’s meeting with James being head-boy and Remus as (the head-boy’s favourite) prefect.

Usually, you and Sirius would spend this time together just the two of you, which was hard to come by sometimes in such a relationship as yours. One-time you guys went and used the bath in the prefect’s bathroom knowing that all the prefects would be busy for the next hour and having gained the password from your boyfriends’. Another time, you two fashioned your own prank without the help of the other Marauder’s and even got away with it!

But right now, Sirius just wanted to cuddle.

But that was fine! If it was animals you wanted to cuddle with, Sirius was more than happy to oblige.

With a quick glance to ensure that the common room was empty, Sirius quickly shifted into Padfoot and made his way over to you.

Padfoot was feeling pretty confident in his plan, that is until he heard a nasty little sound emanating from your lap.

“Sirius!” You scolded, picking up the now very spiky and angry looking kitten from your lap. “You’re scaring him, Pads!” You cooed, tucking the kitten into the collar of your jumper.

The portrait hole opened at this and James and Remus entered the room hand-in-hand, laughing about something before turning to take in the scene.

“Uh oh...” James started, making his way over to the two three of you currently sitting near the fire. “Did Padfoot try to eat the kitten?”

Padfoot harumphed the best he could in his current doggy form. Is good dog, he thought, would not eat...only maim.

“The kitten is frightened.” You pouted, looking to James for sympathy. James looked like he was considering giving it to you, but Remus spoke up as he scratched placatingly behind Padfoot’s ears.

“Perhaps you should bring him upstairs, dovey. Give him some quiet time.”

You readily agreed, much to Padfoot’s chagrin, and left the common room. Now you’d be all the way up there and he’d definitely not get any cuddles.

“Okay, is anyone else sort of jealous of the cat?” James finally muttered plainly once he knew you were out of ear shot.

Yes, Padfoot thought as he quickly shifted back to Sirius. “Yes! It’s like she’s replacing us!”

Remus scoffed at that. “No one is being replaced, boys. Just relax.”

Sirius levelled his boyfriend with a glare. “Yeah? When’s the last time she read to you by the fire, Moons?”

Remus paused and seemed to think on that for a moment before his eyes darted back to Sirius. “I still think you’re being dramatic.”

“It’s been since the kitten, hasn’t it Remus?” Sirius argued, not willing to let it go.

“Sirius, she’s allowed to love things other than us.”

Both Sirius and James scoffed at that. “I think bloody not!” James retorted.

“I can concede if she likes other things, but she cannot love anything more than me! She needs to love me the most!” Sirius insisted, causing both of his boyfriends to look at him funny.

“Oh?” James asked with a bemused frown.

“Is that how it is, really? You think she loves you the most out of all of us?” Remus continued.

Sirius levelled them with a look he hoped portrayed a “yeah, duh”.

“Is that how this relationship works for you Sirius? Which of us do you love the most?” James demanded, crossing his arms in that way Sirius loves because it makes his muscles bulge.

“Me, obviously.” He answered simply.

“You’re your own favourite?” Remus deadpanned.

Sirius shrugged. “Yeah, I’m awesome.”

“You’re not supposed to have favourites!” James whined.

“You’re telling me you’ve never been like ‘oh merlin, right now Moony is my favourite’?” Sirius asked him.

James scoffed indignantly. “Right now, he very well might be!”

Instead of having the effect he hoped that comment would on Sirius, Sirius nodded in agreement. “See? Favourites.”

“You’re an idiot.” Remus grumbled as he stood and made his way upstairs.

“Do you really have favourites?” James asked quietly once Remus had left, his voice giving way to a vulnerability that made Sirius melt.

“Not a chance, bubs.” Sirius insisted, placing a kiss to James’ temple as he pulled the spectacled boy into his side. “I just like arguing with Moony; he makes it so easy to take the piss.”

James chuckled and allowed some tension to leave his body.

“No, but seriously, what are we going to do about that kitten?” James piped up and pulled away so he could look into Sirius’ face.

“I suppose my current plan of feeding it to the Hippogriffs is a no?” Sirius asked. He was answered by an unamused glare from James.

“Fine. Fine. Hopefully the novelty will wear off soon.” Sirius conceded. For as much shit as he gave you, he did sort of love how much you loved anything and everything that might be in need of some; himself included.

James and Sirius watched the flames dance in the fireplace for some time, just enjoying the quiet company that the two of them very rarely shared together.

“Why don't we go see what those two are up to, hm?” James asked eventually, helping Sirius up from his position on the floor and heading up the stairs towards the boy's dorm.

The room was quiet as they entered and when Sirius turned after closing the door to survey the room, he let out a horrified gasp.

“How in the buggering hell did he manage that!?” He whisper shouted, pointing to Remus laying on his bed with you pulled into his side, nuzzled into the crook of his arm.

As James moved to survey the two of you from another side, his face morphed into a pained grimace. “Pads, maybe it’s best we-”

But it was too late, Sirius had seen all he needed to see.

“You bloody traitor!” He nearly shrieked, albeit not loud enough to stir you nor the stupid fucking kitten currently curled up in a very content ball on Remus’ chest from your respective slumber’s.

If Remus had been pretending to sleep, his ruse was given away by a smug smirk gracing his face.

“Better luck next time, Sirius.” He goaded, rubbing a soothing hand up and down your arm as you burrowed further into the werewolf’s side.

Sirius had been beaten, crucio’d, starved, disowned and homeless in his eighteen years of life. But this right here was without a doubt the worst thing to have ever happened to him.

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gemissleeping · 2 months

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Sea Foam | Chapter Three

Theodore Nott x Siren!Reader

Read the other Chapters here.

Summary: It’s been three weeks since Theo found you by the Black Lake, and he’s tried his best to respect your wishes. But it hasn’t done anything to help either of you, and all of your efforts come crashing down in the bathroom at a Slytherin party.

Length: 2.1k

Notes: More of a Theo POV than the usual. Angry Theo. Teenage boys being teenage boys (foul and icky, nsfw language). Overbearing best friend Blaise. Smoking Theo. Slightly intoxicated reader. Soft Theo. Tears. I did not proofread this at all you have been warned, pls do tell me if there are any errors. Listen to Cinnamon Girl by Lana if you’d like to go through it. ily enjoy!

“You’re staring again,” Blaise grumbled under his breath from beside Theo in Divination. It had been three weeks since Theo had found you on the shoreline. Dressed only in your nightgown in the height of the winter frost. That crestfallen look on your face while the wind had bitten at you both. He’d tried his best to respect your wishes since then; making sure to steer clear of you whenever he could, to stop flitting through your mind like it was his favourite novel. He’d tried his best and still he’d failed, over and over.

He knew it was wrong, but he was beyond help. Slipping into your mind was unbearably easy. So much so, that he’d found himself doing it purely by accident on a few occasions, and he couldn’t quite figure out why. He knew you could practice occlumency, had even witnessed you obliterate Malfoy’s attempt at invading your mind in a Defence Against the Dark Arts class last year. Yet you barely even seemed to notice when he did it. Your apparent lack of awareness only made it harder for Theo to stop himself.

“Sorry,” Theo mumbled, blinking his trance away as he glanced over to Blaise with a dull apology. Blaise and Theo had become fast friends in First Year. After Cormack had made a comment about Theo’s Mother on the train, and Blaise had responded by hitting him right between the eyes. Blaise and Theo were close. Though not as close as you, Milli and Blaise were. Everyone knew that the three of you were utterly inseparable. Having met long before the rest of them at Hogwarts.

Unfortunately, it also meant that Blaise had adopted a tendency towards being irritatingly over-protective of you. Likely for good reason; Theo hadn’t made the best of impressions when it came to his relationships with women. They were often fleeting, borne of convenience and nothing more.

Which was exactly why Blaise was currently pissed with him. Blaise spent an awful lot of his time watching people. Regrettably, for Theo that included him, and these days he spent most of his time firmly stuck on you. To say Blaise wasn’t pleased would have been an understatement.

At this point, he may as well have been your damn guard dog, and Theo was tiring of the act quickly. He’d spent years wanting to know you, outside of the occasional class project. Years of pretending you didn’t exist for Blaise’s sake. When really, you were a large part of the reason that he had never settled on anyone to begin with.

Theo turned back to his parchment, huffing as he saw the ink stain leaking across the page. That, along with several half-finished notes, provided rather damning evidence of his distraction.

He stole a glance over at you again, keeping his head low in the hopes Blaise wouldn’t catch him. You were sitting beneath the window, stuck in a daydream of your own as Trelawney prattled on. Eyes misted over, one hand woven through your hair as you rested on it.

You were lovely.

Theo wasn’t sure how long it had been since he had resumed his staring. But as Trelawney brought the lesson to a close, the dull edge of a textbook collided with the side of his head in a singular, harsh thud. Breaking his focus on you as he looked up in bewilderment to Blaise, who stood with his edition of Astrology for the Ungifted raised.

“Git.” He hissed, lowering the book with scathing eyes.

Theo didn’t see you for the rest of the afternoon, not with Blaise practically escorting him to their dorm as soon as Divination concluded. Enzo was already there, lazily slung across his desk chair. Brow raised as Blaise entered in a huff, Theo trailing behind him in defeat. There was supposed to be a party in the Common Room tonight. But right now it wasn’t looking like Theo would be in for a particularly enjoyable evening.

“I know what you’re trying to do. You want to fuck her.”

“I don’t want to fuck her,” Theo winced at his friend’s choice of words.

“You don’t want to fuck her? You don’t want to fuck her?” Blaise rounded, textbook jabbing at Theo’s chest incredulously. Theo groaned, knowing Blaise wouldn’t rest until he knew Theo was being honest with him.

“No, I- fuck, fine. Yes, I want to. Of course I do, but that’s not-”

“Not what? Forgive me for my utter faith in your fucking abysmal track record. But she is my best fucking friend Theo.” Blaise snapped, turning from the boy’s dead-eyed stare and viciously tugging at his tie as he stalked towards his bed. Whipping it from his neck in a surge of anger.

Enzo rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. Watching the display unfold with anxious eyes as Matt cracked the bathroom door open, lighting up with sadistic intrigue. The pair exchanged a glance, the former silently begging the latter not to stick his foot in.

Theo felt his chest tighten at Blaise’s words. His hand running roughly along his jaw, trying to soothe his irritation. Gazing at the ornate wooden panels on the ceiling with a sigh before he attempted to break through to him again. It was out in the open now at least, it likely couldn’t get worse.

“You don’t understand, she-”

“Please, Nott. Tell me what I don’t understand about the girl I’ve known since she was three years old.” Blaise bellowed, reigniting as he swung back to the taller boy. The click of the door interrupted them.

“What’s with all the shouting? I can hear you fools from the hall,” Malfoy droned, bored as he kicked the door shut behind him. Flicking his wand to cast some sort of muffling charm across it.

“Fuck off, Malfoy.” Blaise sneered, not even glancing over to acknowledge his friend’s arrival. The words feeling far more aimed towards Theo than the blonde. Draco only sighed, moving past the both of them.

“None of you ever thank me for anything that I do for you,” He grumbled in response. Throwing a stack of books onto his bed before going to shove Matt out of the bathroom.

“If you even think about fucking touching her-” Blaise continued, steam practically rising from his skin as he narrowed in on Theo again.

“Oh, he has.” Matt interrupted, leaning back against Enzo’s desk with folded arms. Theo shooting him a heavy glare as Matt only smirked back knowingly. An expression Enzo swiftly answered by scolding him with a kick to the shin.

“Look at me, Nott,” Blaise demanded. His voice low, lip curling back in a sneer, “I’ll skin you, understand?”

“Listen, I-” Theo started, his own voice rising as his attention shifted back to Blaise, irritation swelling. But he was impossible to reason with when he was like this, everyone knew it.

“You don’t fuck with her,” Blaise cut in, his voice soaked with finality. Standing before Theo while his chest heaved with anger, book still clutched in his accusatory palm. Theo could feel his own restraint unwrapping. The other’s eyes on them only pushing him further into that corner of himself. He needed air, now. Or else he was going to do something he couldn’t undo. Then you were certain to never speak to him again.

Hands raised in silent surrender, he backed away from Blaise. Jaw set as he plucked his jacket from the end of his bed, turning for the door. Enzo’s tired sigh leaked through the dorm as he pulled it open harshly, likely readying himself to chastise Blaise. Something he’d also likely do to Theo when he caught him later. Though if he had any luck today, maybe Enzo and the others would already be drunk by the time he got back.

He made for the edge of the forest. Rolling a cigarette as he went, trying not to bite down on the filter between his teeth from residual disdain. The icy air was a small mercy, quenching the heat running through him almost immediately. For hours he stood out there, letting the smoke in to empty out all of the things he didn’t want to feel. Watching as the moon chased the sun down to the horizon.

The party would be well underway. God willing you hopefully had yourself tangled in someone else by now. At least then Theo might have been able to give himself a proper reason to stop, smooth things over with Blaise. Though he had begun to doubt if even that would work.

Theo made his way through the tangle of writhing bodies in the heat of the Common Room. No desire to taint himself further with the desperate need to forget that rolled off of the sweaty air. Matt was by the stairs, where the crowd thinned out at its edges. More enticed by the girl whose cigarette he was lighting than by any questions he might’ve had for Theo, as he continued his path to the dorms.

He had meant to go straight there. To take off his jacket, untie his shoelaces. Instead he found himself headed past his door, down to one of the communal bathrooms that lined the dormitory halls. He wasn’t sure why, until something tugged at him. Drawing him to push open the bathroom door; and there you were.

Gaze flitting to his hazily in the mirror. Eyeliner smudged, haloing your eyes. You stilled where you had been standing, as if he had walked straight out of your thoughts. Softening as you took in his wind kissed hair, and he the tremble of your fingers on the countertop. Theo pushed himself away, against the pull of his chest, away from what he wanted. He made for the door again, unsure of why he had allowed himself to be led to you to begin with.

“You weren’t at Dinner,” you called softly, not daring to turn and look at him without a reflection between you. He stilled, one hand on the door as his heart hammered at his ribs.

“You told me to stay away,” he answered simply. Afraid to turn around in case what he saw laying in your eyes only salted the wound some more.

“Not that far.”

You breathed, turning to face him. Eyes aching to touch his cheek, graze across his thoughts, his desires. Theo’s hand dropped from the door, chest swelling from your proclamation. He could feel his breathing falter, hear the force of it. He turned hesitantly, a rasp collecting in his throat.

“Well how far would you like me?”

He saw your breath hitch, didn’t even have to scratch at your mind. You seemed to be leaking into his on your own accord. He could hear just how far you wanted him, and it wasn’t far at all.

Your lips parted, so he made sure to be the first to speak. To save you both the trouble.

“You’re drunk.”

You shook your head, eyes growing glassy with the salt of tears as you moved towards where he leant against the door.

“I’ve been getting your little messages. The ones you keep leaving for me to find,” he murmured. Suddenly enraptured by his hands as his voice creased over his words.

“Theo-”

“It’s unbearable for me. Is it like that for you too?” He cracked, eyes flashing up to yours. Entirely afraid before you, before the possible weight of your answer. Because the truth was he couldn’t tell. He couldn’t tell which words were real and which you fed him to keep him at arm’s length. He searched you, begging for any kind of answer, but hoping only for one.

“Yes.”

Your tears spilled in an instant, and maybe you were a little drunk, but you were also sure that it didn’t change any of it. He knew as much, taking a tender step towards you to grasp your cheek. Running his thumb along the soft skin to collect your tears.

“This trance you seem to think I’m under,” Theo clarified, eyes lingering on yours as his thumb continued its path. Despite no longer having any need to do so. “It’s lasted five years already,” he breathed, “it’s not going to pass any time soon.”

You paused, smudged eyes widening as you gazed up at him. His confession sucking the air out of your lungs until you could no longer doubt that you needed him. You simply watched him for a moment, as though debating whether to say something you wouldn’t be able to swallow. The one thing that was still holding you back.

“I don’t know how to stop myself.”

“Then don’t,” he whispered, leaning closer to brush a strand of hair from your eyes. “You don’t need to be scared of wanting this.”

Theo drew back slightly, letting his fingertips linger. Brushing through the strands of your hair, behind your ear. His voice gentle, certain, “I’ll be here, whenever you’re ready.”

Keep an eye out for Chapter Four here, or comment to be added to the tag list for future updates <3

Taglist: @hemlockmuncher @hoeforvinniehackerrr @moonlightttfae @thecraziestcrayon @itssomeonereading @leona-hawthorne @liaaanie @not-so-bad-ass @wildestdreamslover @slytherinboysappreciation @nat1221 @melllinaa @aykxz98 @chgrch if i missed anyone please let me know!

#i have caused myself emotional damage with this one #theodore nott x reader #gemwrites #theodore nott x siren!reader #theodore nott series #theodore nott x y/n #theodore nott x you #theodore nott angst #theodore nott fluff #theodore nott fic #theodore nott fanfiction #theodore nott imagine #theo nott #slytherin boys #harry potter

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hardly-an-escape · 6 months

Text

A Close Shave | Dream/Hob | 2150 words | Rated G

tags: retired!Dream, shaving, unmitigated yearning and longing, the pining is probably mutual but you only get Hob's POV

“Been meaning to ask," Hob says. "How are you feeling about... this?"

He gestures to his chin, the stubble there, and across the table, Dream slowly puts down his spoon. Even more slowly, he raises one hand to his own chin and runs the backs of his fingers along the newly-grown layer of hair there.

It’s been a little over a month, and by now Hob is used to the speed – or rather, lack thereof – with which Dream finds it necessary to live his freshly-human life. A month, since Dream had chosen to live, and chosen to live with Hob, taking over the spare room and filling it with books and soft cardigans and snacks as he learned his own likes and dislikes as Dream-the-human.

It still feels to Hob as though there’s a minor miracle sitting across the breakfast table, now thoughtfully fondling the brand-new beard on his chin.

“Ah,” Dream says eventually. “You mean this. The hair on my face. Yes, I have noticed it.”

“I’ve never seen you with a beard before,” Hob says neutrally.

“I suppose I never felt the need to manifest one when I visited the Waking World,” Dream says. He returns most of his attention to his oatmeal. It still requires some concentration, to hold the spoon steady; to make sure it reaches his mouth without spilling. Hob watches for a moment, impressed all over again with Dream’s willingness to try.

“Does it bother you, having one now?” he asks.

“Why would it bother me? It is a part of my body, is it not?”

Hob, wisely, refrains from mentioning the other body parts and functions – the sunburn, the stubbed toe, the sensations of hunger and dizziness and nausea, the need for sleep and to relieve himself – which have bothered Dream an inordinate amount over the past four weeks.

“But do you like it?” Hob presses gently. “I mean, one of the great things about being human is that it’s pretty easy to change our looks, generally speaking. Maybe not as easy as just… manifesting. But still. You get to choose what you look like, whether it’s a beard or clean-shaven, or, or pink hair. Or anything. Infinite variety.”

Dream puts his spoon down again and brings both hands up to his face. His palms cup either side of his chin and his long, narrow fingers stroke gently, from the downy hairs peppering his cheekbones, down into the hollows of his cheeks (not quite as gaunt as they used to be, Hob notes with a swell of gratitude), and then along the line of his chin to where it ends in a devastating little point.

In the morning light, with his face framed by those artistic fingers and a look of such solemn concentration on his features, he looks like a statue; a religious icon, perhaps, contemplative and blessed. His eyes are closed and his rosebud of a mouth is very pink and very slightly open.

Hob has to dig his fingernails into his own thigh to stop himself from reaching out and running his own fingers down Dream’s cheek, or brushing his thumb along that unfairly soft-looking bottom lip.

“Hm,” Dream says finally. “I do not think I dislike the beard. But equally, I am not sure that I like it. I am not sure that my face… feels like me.”

“Well,” Hob says. “You can shave it off, if you want. See if you feel more like yourself. I can – I can help you. Obviously.”

Obviously. Obviously. He supposes it is obvious – it must be – how desperately he wants to help Dream. How abject his desire to make this fragile, human life a little more bearable, in any small way he can.

“Yes,” says Dream. “I would… like that. Thank you.”

Hob drags a kitchen chair into the bathroom. Digs out his softest hand towel and wets it with hot water before wrapping it carefully around Dream’s face and neck. He chatters idly as he gathers his supplies: random recollections about his favorite Turkish bath in London, which had gone out of business during the Great War, and the Russian steambaths and Finnish saunas he’s seen during his travels.

He doesn’t use his old straight razor much anymore, preferring a good reusable safety razor for himself when he’s going clean shaven, but he’s always found a well-honed, old-fashioned cutthroat to be more comfortable when shaving someone else. And he keeps his razors, like any tool, in good condition whether he’s using it regularly or not; the mother-of-pearl handle is clean and polished, the joint moves smoothly, and the blade gleams.

Dream watches through hooded eyes as Hob strops the razor and mixes up the suds of shaving foam. He loads up the soft bristle brush before removing the towel and making sure Dream is positioned in front of the mirror.

“Here’s what I’m thinking,” Hob says. “I’m going to start by just doing your neck and cheeks, clean up the edges a bit. You might like it more when it looks like an intentional beard, not just a couple weeks’ worth of shaggy growth. And if you’re still not feeling it, we’ll shave the rest. Sound okay?”

Dream nods, and Hob goes to work.

Touching Dream is – not difficult, not exactly. If anything, it’s too easy. Hob’s fingertips hunger for the soft brush of Dream’s skin, for the fluff of his dark hair, for his stubble and his slender hands and the little creases in the corners of his eyes. In those earliest mad days, when Dream hadn’t even been strong enough to walk on his own, Hob had manhandled him matter-of-factly. He’d helped him walk, and dress, and eat; taught him how the bathtub worked and washed his body, cheerfully ignoring the furious flush on Dream’s face at the indignity of needing to be cared for. They’d gotten through it.

He’s mature enough to admit to himself that he misses it, now that Dream has gained enough strength of body and mind to do it all for himself. There’s something so intimate about that contact with another person: about being needed in that particular intense way. It’s heady. The longing for it almost chokes him, sometimes, with how badly he wants it: to hoist Dream in his arms and cradle him against his chest. To wash his hair and rub him gently dry. To hold a cup of water or warm milk to those perfect lips.

But Hob, for all his faults, is trying so hard not to be an asshole these days. So he doesn’t touch Dream that way, now that it isn’t needed – now that he isn’t needed. No matter how much he might like to.

Until now.

Now, for just a moment, he lets himself indulge. Runs his hungry fingertips along the soft, vulnerable curves of Dream’s throat and the firmer lines of his jaw as he brushes on the shaving foam. Tips his head gently this way and that, revels guiltily in how biddable Dream is as he sits quietly in the chair.

Hob takes his time with the actual shaving, both out of caution (perhaps even a bit of terror, that he might inadvertently mark that precious skin) and out of a desire to linger over the experience for as long as he can get away with. Unfortunately, shaving just a person’s neck doesn’t really take that long, regardless of how carefully one does it. Within just a handful of minutes, he is carefully wiping the last spot of soap from the hollow of Dream’s throat and turning him fully toward the bathroom mirror.

“What do you think?” he asks.

Dream doesn’t answer right away. He turns his head from side to side, surveying his reflection. Then he tilts his chin up and runs his fingers down the newly-soft skin of his neck. Hob’s fingertips tingle. He knows the sensation Dream is experiencing, knows it intimately: the smoothness of the hairless skin, the slight tackiness of the moisturizer. Knows it from his own face, and from the faces of lovers over the decades, and even from poor, long-dead Robyn’s face, when he’d taught his son to shave.

He doesn’t say anything, and after a moment Dream meets his eye in the mirror.

“I think I would like to have the rest of it off,” he says. “If you would not mind…?”

“No problem,” says Hob softly.

They go through the whole ritual once more: the hot towel, mixing up the foam. Hob strops the razor again, just to be sure. This time he carefully rubs a little pre-shave oil into Dream’s beard to soften the hairs as much as possible, then covers his face with the thick foam.

“I don’t really know if the oil does much,” he admits, “but the last time I went for a proper shave at a barber’s, the bloke who did it swore by the stuff. I guess I’m a sucker for a good upsell. And it does smell nice.”

It takes much longer this time, of course. He finishes the first pass, wipes Dream’s face, lathers him again and goes for a second pass. He leaves Dream’s sideburns mostly alone, just taking them up enough to blend in with the hair falling shaggy over his ears – if Dream wants a haircut that will have to be another adventure, to a real barber or a salon, because Hob doesn’t trust himself with that kind of artistry, not where Dream is concerned.

He narrates as he goes, describing the best angle to hold the blade, how to gently pull the skin taut to avoid nicks, when to go with the grain of the hair and when to scrape against it. Reminiscing further on his favorite barbers and spas and on a broad history of facial hair and shaving. He is babbling a bit, he knows, but he tells himself it’s for educational purposes; that this kind of general knowledge could potentially serve Dream well as he navigates a new human life.

He’s certainly not talking in order to distract himself from the sensation of Dream’s skin and the soft sounds of Dream’s breath, or to stop himself from saying something much more revealing and embarrassing. Like how he wants to take care of Dream for the rest of time. Or how badly he wants to see if his skin is as soft all the way down as it is in the tender place just behind his ear. Or how fiercely grateful he is that Dream has chosen to live, to try, to be here, to sit in a kitchen chair and eat oatmeal, to sit in this bathroom and let Hob run his fingers down the line of his jaw, over and over, trying to memorize the feeling of every inch of skin he’s allowed to touch as he runs the razor over the valleys of Dream’s cheeks.

He will never run out of words to say to Dream – or words he wishes he could say – but eventually he does run out of skin to shave. At his direction, Dream leans over the sink and rinses his face with cold water, then gently pats in aftershave while Hob meticulously dries his razor and clears away the shaving tackle.

Then it’s quiet in the little bathroom for a long, long moment while Dream reexamines his face in the mirror.

“Well?” Hob says eventually, so low it’s almost a whisper. He allows himself one last touch. Drops his hand onto Dream’s shoulder and squeezes gently.

Dream makes eye contact in the mirror, and Hob is shocked by a swift bolt of recognition. Here, in front of him, is Dream – his Stranger, his centennial mystery – so different, so human, and yet, suddenly, so familiar. It could almost be 1489 again, save the electric lighting; his hair is nearly long enough, and the imperious pout is back on his lips.

And then he opens his mouth.

“Hob, I –” he trails off. Breathes. “I am me.”

Hob squeezes his shoulder again. “Of course you are.”

“No, you misunderstand. I – I recognize myself,” Dream says, unconsciously echoing Hob’s thoughts. “I see a man, and he looks like me.” He meets Hob’s eye in the mirror once again. “I – thank you.”

Dream’s eyes are, unaccountably, welling up with tears, as beautiful and delicate as the rest of him. Hob does the only thing he can think to do, which is to drop his chin to Dream’s shoulder, lay his own hairy cheek alongside Dream’s newly-smooth, freshly-scented face, wrap his arms around Dream’s bony chest, and hold him.

One of Dream’s hands comes up and wraps itself around Hob’s wrist, and they stay that way for a long time: Dream in the kitchen chair, in front of the bathroom mirror, and Hob behind him, holding him, crouched somewhat uncomfortably, but exactly where he wants to be.

---

this has been languishing in my drafts for absolute ages and I wish it hadn't taken me so ding dang long but it is what it is || this two cakes situation is inspired by @watercubebee's art and dedicated to her and @valeriianz 🎂🎂 || art, Kris's ficlet (plus part two)

read on AO3 >>>

#hello I am once again posting barely edited fics in the wee hours AS IS MY WONT #do you know how long I've had a tab open with the wikihow article on shaving with a straight razor?? it's been WEEKS #someday I will improve on my current writing speed of twelve words per day smh #my writing #dreamling #the sandman #dream of the endless #hob gadling

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destinygoldenstar · 2 months

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What Separates Digital Circus’s Horror From Others

Disturbing.

Unnerving.

TERRIFYING.

BUT WHY?!

On the surface to the… five people that never watched The Amazing Digital Circus Pilot, this show looks like a Five Nights At Freddy’s knock off.

It’s a cute mascot show that is actually secretly a horror monster infested world.

Even people who haven’t seen FNAF at least seen a few clips of it and what it’s famous for. I know I have.

My sister is super into this, and she hogs the TV, so… RIP me.

That’s what most non-horror stans usually view horror as.

The jumpscares.

The unnerving imagery.

The designs made to freak out the viewers and make them uncomfortable.

It’s usually quite obvious when something is a horror, cause these aspects are often front and center. You can usually tell it’s a trailer of a horror movie by just looking at it.

At least, from my, a non-horror lover’s understanding. For some reason these sorts of things, especially indie animated ones, are the faces of a lot of content farms.

If the product itself isn’t r@%ing your audience, it’s those.

(TAKE MY WARNING AND TAKE IT SERIOUSLY: IF YOU VALUE YOUR MENTAL HEALTH AND YOUR SANITY, DO NOT LOOK UP THIS MOVIE)

BUT BACK ON SUBJECT.

Digital Circus… doesn’t really have this stuff.

There’s no jumpscares.

(I mean there is in a trailer, but it’s used as a joke.)

The character designs are very cute looking without any alternate versions that are scary.

And the imagery of the show remains cute and fun all throughout. The darkest it gets is in a realistic looking office.

But there are no jumpscares in that scene.

It’s just… a normal office.

If this was a horror, then perfect opportunity, right?

So… what’s going on here?

This, my friends, is why Digital Circus is not your typical indie animated horror flick.

And why people even call it ‘scary’ at all.

Here’s the trick this show uses.

It’s not the imagery.

It’s not the designs.

It’s not even intentionally trying to scare you.

Caine is not intentionally trying to scare the audience. He’s just acting like an A.I.

Yeah he has SOME unnerving moments.

But compared to THIS:

I’d say Caine is pretty tame.

Maybe it’s an indicator that he’s secretly a monster like the Other Mother in Coraline.

That horror flick is about the host lying to the protagonist and revealing their horror-like appearance later on.

But not only was it confirmed that Caine is NOT evil. But look at his design right away and his presentation.

There is no sign so far that he lies about anything. At least not what he doesn’t know.

Yes he lied about the exit. But the exit ITSELF was the thing that sent you to the VOID. So really he kinda tried to protect them.

If he didn’t, he’d let jester girl eject herself like Among Us.

So why is it unnerving?

Because it’s the POV we the audience are in for most of the episode: Pomni.

Pomni is an Audience Surrogate.

Audience Surrogates are characters designed specifically to be a placeholder for the audience.

People usually assume this trope as the character made to be the bland and generic one. But that’s actually not true.

An audience surrogate can be as simple as a First Person POV. As all it means is that the character is designed to have the same reactions the audience would in the situation they would find themselves in.

Course, not speaking for everybody, but majority that would consume the content.

Thus, with Pomni as the audience surrogate, we the audience are thrusted into her shoes the whole time. We feel the fear she does. We are experiencing the circus the same time she does.

Notice the editing in some scenes. Specifically the scenes Pomni is NOT in.

When Pomni is in a scene, there’s usually some change in lighting or camera movement that’s unnerving.

But when she isn’t in a scene, these editing moves aren’t there at all.

Which makes it pretty easy to suggest that these unnerving edits are just what’s going on in Pomni’s head.

So with that, when she’s scared. We’re scared. We’re in her POV.

But she’s scared all the time. That’s just her average personality, right?

Then why make these specific edits?

Let’s think about this:

This character is trapped in a world that isn’t her own. Everything is unusual, and she wants out. But instantly realizes there’s no escape.

And then gets told this is her new home and her new body.

A home she doesn’t recognize. And a body she doesn’t even know the name of.

She lost all sense of identity in an instant. Losing everything about herself in an instant. To the point where she can’t even remember what she was before.

And to make matters worse, because this is unusual, everything SEEMS terrifying. Even to those trying to help her adjust.

The only way out of such a confusing and terrifying world is to escape. Which is what she tries to find the entire time.

So THEREFORE:

The horror is this show is NOT the jumpscares or the creepy images.

The horror is THE VIEWER’S MIND.

This show constantly destroys your mind and breaks you through Pomni.

The idea of losing everything about yourself and being trapped in something unfamiliar forever. That IS terrifying.

If you were in this situation, you’d probably freak out even if you were the bravest being ever.

So it’s not about how scary the scene is on the outside.

It’s about what you’re THINKING that’s scary.

Ragatha’s distress monologue is not scary on the outside. But if you actually take into consideration what she says.

THATS terrifying.

That toys with your mind. And it also toys with Pomni’s.

The monster figure in the episode, the abstraction, is nowhere near as scary as something from FNAF

At least in my opinion.

Especially seeing what the monster does.

It can’t kill you. You’re just glitched.

Or maybe it CAN kill. But we never see that.

Even if Pomni ended up like Ragatha, Caine would’ve eventually came back, found them, and fixed them. And they would’ve been fine.

But then, rather out of nowhere, she STOPS.

And we get this shot.

I talked about this shot before. Said it quickly became one of my favorite shots in media.

This is why.

This shot makes me queasy every time.

The idea of looking in a mirror and not even being able to process or recognize yourself. Unable to even process your own reflection, that’s how unrecognizable you’ve become.

That’s horrifying.

And there’s no dialogue here either.

The episode effectively uses SHOW DONT TELL.

They SHOW you how scary the situation is. They SHOW you a single image that tells you everything.

It would’ve been so easy to just have Pomni say “I’m scared. I don’t recognize myself. Who is this person looking back at me?”

But no

They DON’T insult their audience.

They don’t TELL you.

They let you sink it in yourself.

Pomni doesn’t even have ANY lines after she goes through the exit door. And yet the shots after that with her have been plastered everywhere. Why? Cause she doesn’t need to tell you her mental state. You’re SHOWN it.

Can someone PLEASE tell the live action Avatar The Last Airbender that?!

Speaking of the office scene. This is the only moment in the show that looks… real. Not that cartoony.

Which I guess being in a setting that’s off putting from the rest makes it creepy, right?

Well not really.

Sure she’s running through rooms that seem to be repeating, which that of itself is sanity breaking. It reminds me a lot of another existential horror: The Stanley Parable.

But while that game is excellent and the monologue that plays in that ending is one of my favorites, it IS just telling you the sanity of the player.

Not that there’s anything wrong with this in that games style. There’s no other way that could’ve been done in that game.

Here, again, there’s no dialogue. It’s just Pomni running through these desperate for the exit.

The scary part about this is that we KNOW the absolute DESPERATION she has.

Even if we couldn’t see her face, that’s still across because we’ve seen it the entire episode.

And then there’s her break.

She snaps at the sight of a desk, and gets fangs, that of a FNAF character. But only for a second. She doesn’t even go out at the camera with them. She goes on her merry way.

But Pomni, being the POV character, really doesn’t have much to be scared at about her.

So why is this terrifying? Why not go all the way if this is supposed to be a jumpscare?

Well cause it’s not.

A way to scare your audience is to make them feel dread. Lingering longing dread. Sometimes irrational dread.

People with anxiety especially get scared at things even when they’re completely safe. They feel an unease in their stomachs. They feel unable to move. Unable to speak. Unable to put it into words at all.

It could be because we saw something unnerving that stays in our subconscious. It could be because we’re nervous about something coming up. It could be because we’re in an uncomfortable situation.

Either way, anything even remotely resembling that triggering thing can break someone to feel this anxiety. Sometimes even something as simple as the dark. Even if we know we’re completely safe.

(Speaking as a person with anxiety myself)

She only snaps and cackles when she sees a random desk with a computer. Which also has the headset she put on there. The thing that got her in this.

But you might not have even seen the headset on your first viewing. I didn’t.

But your subconscious sees it. The environment not being like the others aids in unnerving you and making it hard to process what you’re looking at.

Why is this terrifying? Why does it break you? Why does it mentally break Pomni? We don’t know. It just does.

We’ve been stuck going through doors in repeating rooms for hours.

Fear makes you not able to overthink it.

So all of that is build up to the near perfect shot of Pomni at the brink of snapping at the dinner table. With the others voices blurred in her mind. As all she can do is fake a smile.

Terrifying End.

It’s not scary because it’s scary. It’s scary because it toys with the character, and the viewer’s mind

Now, is Digital Circus the first media to do this technique?

No. Not at all.

One of the most acclaimed animated movies, Spirited Away, also uses these exact same tactics for example.

That’s obviously a master class at this tactic. And it scared me as a child as a result. For all these exact same reasons.

It’s not a horror. Not traditionally. It’s not trying to scare you. But it does anyway cause in your mind it’s a scary concept.

And also, well, Spirited Away is a completed story as of the time this post comes out.

And Digital Circus only has one episode. But we did get confirmation this would be a series. And I personally have high hopes that this brilliant tactic is kept. From the trailer, it does seem like they’re not forgetting the stuff I bring up here. So I hope this works out for the creators despite the drama and the internet BS surrounding this show.

But even if not, we at least get one case in this show where we all want to curl up in a ball and cry

Us too Pomni. Us too.

Thank you for reading my… analysis a ton of people made before me, and probably better. Happy day for you all.

#digital circus #the amazing digital circus #amazing digital circus #tadc pomni #tadc caine #horror #existential crisis #existential dread #existential horror #anxiety tw #anxiety attack

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sundrop-writes · 5 months

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Your First Kiss With Dick Grayson

Dick Grayson x Gender Neutral Reader

Summary:

The Titans have faced a lot together, but never something quite as troubling as the possible return of an inter-dimensional demon that shreds apart worlds and leaves nothing standing in its wake.

You hate to admit it, but even standing with your team - you're afraid. Dick tries his best to comfort you, but for once during his career as noble, selfless team leader - he takes a moment to be selfish, and does something that he has been avoiding doing for years.

Dick Grayson x Gender Neutral Reader. Childhood Friends to Lovers. Angst and Fluff. Set during Season 4, Episode 6.

Word Count: 2,900

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: this one is a bit more on the angsty side; this fic features major spoilers for season 4 (and for the majority of the show) - so if you're watching it for the first time or you haven't seen it yet and you want to watch it spoiler free, then avoid this fic for now; the reader character is completely gender neutral - the only pronouns used for the reader are you/yours; the reader is one of the original Titans; the reader and Dick are childhood friends through the Justice League - the reader is the adoptive child of Oliver Queen/Green Arrow (the reader is a talented marksman and trained in combat); the reader is mentioned to be an orphan (again, aren't all good superheroes); major pining from Dick - he has had a crush on the reader since they were kids (most of this is from his POV, so it's not specified if the reader has returned his feelings for just as long); mentions of canon character deaths; a lot of this is from Dick's POV so - warnings for Dick being emotionally constipated and referring to romantic feelings as a 'disease'; this is an AU where Dickkory never happened; mentions of canon violence - not described in graphic detail; mentions of the apocalypse/the world ending (and the anxiety this can cause); the reader is feeling extreme fear/anxiety due to the possible end of the world; technically - unresolved pining. I believe that's it.

A/N: The second part of the First Kiss series! I had a lot of fun with this one. This is the first really romantic fic I have written for Dick, and I enjoyed it so much omg. I was so tempted to write an enemies to lovers version with him, because he annoys me so much in the canon, and I feel like 'kissing in the middle of a heated argument' would work so well with his character - but maybe we'll save that one for Jason (or Hank, idk). instead, I went with emotionally constipated Dick Grayson, because that is sooo canon. he would not admit his feelings for someone if he had a gun to his head. and I had a lot of fun writing this mostly from his POV. I feel like he is such an interesting POV character to work with, so I might do more from him in the future. anyway, please enjoy!!

...

Stress.

There were few other words to describe the horrible feeling that was dense in the air around them.

Everyone was looking to Dick for answers, and unfortunately, he had none. Sebastian was missing, likely kidnapped by Mother Mayhem in order to complete a ritual that would likely mean the end of the world. Rachel had lost her powers and the Titans needed her unique form of magic now more than ever. Tim was impatient, annoyed because Dick wasn’t letting him use the minimal training that he had. But of course, Dick was hesitant to let the next would-be Robin off the bench after what had happened to Jason.

(Dick could barely bring himself to think about Jason these days.)

Kory was having difficulty controlling her newfound powers, and so was Gar. Which left the team weakened on all sides. Jinx was helpful on the magic front, but she was far from easy to control when it came to executing plans and corralling her rather wild personality.

And Dick didn’t even want to think about what was happening with Conner. He just had to pray that this whole shaved-head, Lex Luthor impression was part of his mourning for his would-be father, and hopefully - it would be temporary.

All of the chaos among the team left Dick leaning on you. As usual, you were likely the only person on the team who wasn’t experiencing any extreme drama. You were the only Titan with some true stability.

And you were the person on the team with the most experience. Even more than Dick himself. Beyond being part of the original Titans team that had helped to found The Tower, you had been trained under Oliver Queen, who was part of the Justice League as Green Arrow. Ollie had taken you on as his own child when your parents died and left him as your carer in their will. Naturally, early into your childhood, he had started training you in the art of combat and marksmanship - so you grew up with intense skill.

You and Dick met soon after he was adopted by Bruce. And much like Donna, you were a kind face and a wise voice that kept him mentally grounded well into adulthood. But you were also someone mischievous that made him smile; someone he could always turn to for a well timed laugh.

You always kept him sane.

And very much unlike Donna - soon after he met you, Dick started to develop feelings for you.

Of course, back then, it was just a silly crush. When he told Donna about it at the time, she laughed. And when he had hidden his face in embarrassment, she then told him that it was ‘cute’. She told him that you two would be good together when you got older. So naturally, Dick took her words as biblically concrete advice.

He decided that he should wait for you. That the two of you would be good together when you got older.

So he waited.

And he waited. And eventually - life got in the way.

He had a huge falling out with Bruce, things at the Tower went south. It was never the right time to tell you. How the hell could he tell his best friend that he had those big, terrifying feelings mounting inside of him, worsening each year like a disease?

It was never the right time to tell you because he was dodging disasters left and right and he needed you more as a friend than as a lover. He needed you as a brick wall to lean on. He needed you as that voice of common sense in his ear - the leader’s loyal first mate, giving him advice behind the curtain and keeping his head on straight.

He didn’t need to tell you about his awful, festering feelings and have you gone from his life too.

When Garth died, and then Jericho died and the Tower shuddered, it still didn't feel like the right time. Wounds were tender and even if you were never downright angry at him like everyone else was - you needed your space. Dick respected that.

That day, you stood at the mouth of the elevator, about to leave for Star City to go and lick your emotional wounds at Ollie’s for a while, and you looked at Dick with tears in your eyes - looked at him like you were waiting for him to say it. But it wasn’t the right time.

He still thought about you every single day when he was in Detroit. And then - he showed up at your door with a scared little girl, needing more advice, needing that brick wall again. It was only natural that when chaos found him, he needed your help.

He hated that your advice was to call in Dawn and Hank. He relied on you, and you relied on family. And he hated that they were waiting at your apartment, called against his will once he had left to do some more sleuthing.

But he found that you were right when he saw how Dawn bonded with Rachel, when Hank put up a vicious fight against those strangers who came to collect her in the name of her father.

Watching you get thrown off that roof sent Dick’s heart through his stomach. As he clung onto the rooftop with his fingers and the muscles of his arm burned, all he could think about was you. As you sputtered out blood and he cradled your head, unsure of how to help you, terror gripped him in a way that it never had before in his life, because he realized that he might actually lose the most important person in his life.

As you lay in the hospital, a set of machines barely keeping you alive, with Dawn loyally holding your hand in comfort and Hank seething to get revenge on the people who had hurt you - Dick ached with regret and not having told you.

Still, when you showed up at that house in Ohio, somehow magically awakened from your near death by Rachel's powers - Dick felt that it just wasn't the right time. He swallowed his regrets like ash in his mouth when he reunited with you, hugged you tight. He didn’t even consider telling you about his feelings to be on the radar of possibility.

When you came back to the Tower to help bring in Doctor Light - it just wasn't the right time. When you showed up in Gotham to help bring down Red Hood - it just wasn't the right time.

Even when Dick died and was brought back to life by some strange magical pit, a pool of waters that brought him dreams of a far off life with you - it still wasn’t the right time.

You were there to Dick's call, loyal and waiting, every single time. You looked at him with as much love and longing in your eyes as he needed (at least, according to Dawn and Donna you did) - but still, it never felt like the right time.

It never felt like the right time to destabilize his entire life by uprooting the one good friendship he had. It never felt like the right time to truly fuck things up with you.

Now, because of some cult that Dick believed to be long gone and a stupid blood ritual, the world was ending, and it still didn't feel like the right time.

He wasn't the son of a demon from another dimension, but he still felt cursed.

When Dick saw you slip out of the room, clearly trying to sneak away from the group, his stomach twisted with nerves. It was rare that you of all people cracked under the pressure. It was rare that you needed to escape from the madness for a breath. He mumbled an excuse to Kory and then chased after you, knowing that it wouldn't be hard to tell where he was truly going - but truthfully, he didn’t care.

He easily caught you in one of the late night deserted halls of STAR Labs.

The many glass walls overlooked the city - a collection of bright lights that made up Metropolis. Thousands of people that you never knew, that you had never met before. People that all seemed too important now as you contemplated their lives; thought about the fact that you might not be able to save them.

Dick saw the sickly look on your face, the glassy sheen of guilt in your eyes even from far off as you leaned on the polished titanium railing that separated the upper floors from the atrium. His footsteps echoed in the empty hall and you heard him approaching from far off. He made no effort to sneak up on you or conceal himself, not wanting to startle you when you were already in such a distressed state.

The minute you looked over your shoulder and saw him, your face broke from that dark, doomed frown into a haste smile, and you reached up to wipe away your tears, attempting to be subtle with that motion. You were trying to hide yourself from him.

Dick came to stand beside you, resisting the urge to pull you into his arms. He desperately wanted to shelter you away from any fear you might be feeling. Maybe it was selfish; wanting to hold you, wanting to protect you from anything in the world that could possibly harm you. Maybe it was downright idiotic - because realistically, he knew that couldn't protect you from this kind of harm. He couldn’t protect you from the world ending.

“Y/N-” Dick murmured your name gently, clutching a fist tightly by his side to resist the urge to reach out and soothe a hand over the trembling muscles of your jaw.

You were holding in a sob, and it came out as a harsh, sarcastic laugh instead.

“I know.” You said. “I know. You're doing that Team Leader Guy Thing.”

You tried to make it sound playful and joking, but with your voice wet and soaked with worry and fear, it came off as a pathetic bid to deflect.

Dick wasn’t sure how to reply. Because yes, he was doing that ‘Team Leader Guy Thing’. He was trying his best to, anyway.

“You're gonna ask ‘are you okay?’ and I'm gonna lie and say ‘I'm fine, boss. All good.’” You continued.

At least you were being straightforward about it being a lie.

Dick wished that he had something genuinely helpful to say, but his throat stalled with dryness and his chest ached at seeing you so distraught. It really wasn’t something that he was used to.

“I mean, it's not like it's the end of the world.” You let out another dry, sarcastic laugh.

Then, there was a moment of silence - a beat of realization as your chin quivered and more thick tears rimmed your eyes.

“It's - it's only the end of the world.” You spoke these words heavier, dropping any false laughter in your tone - it truly hit you. Any further jokes you could make left you.

Dick choked on his own tears when he heard the aborted sob in your chest - something that came out as a whimper when you reached up to clutch at your heart.

You were genuinely terrified. Terrified that the Titans wouldn’t be able to find a solution in time. Terrified that everyone was going to die. Not just the people you loved, but - everyone.

“Hey, come on.” Dick said, his leader instincts, his natural caring for you kicking in. “We've been through worse.”

Working with the Titans, you had been through a lot. Drug busts, battling against costumed psychopaths, the loss of a dear friend to a dangerous assassin. But you weren’t sure that you had been through something worse than this. Everything the Titans had been through had never affected the world on such a large scale.

“Have we?” You argued gently.

Perhaps not. Maybe the only time the team had been in such dire straits was the first time Trigon attempted to come to earth. But that had been when Rachel had been armed with her powers and had been prepared to take him down. But Dick wasn't going to voice those thoughts to you.

You waited in agony for him to say something, and your tears finally breached - rolling down your face in hot tracks, laying marks of the true fear you were feeling, laying it all bare for the first time. Dick knew that his own eyes reflected that same glossy hurt now, if only for the pain he felt in seeing you cry - something that was so incredibly rare over the time he had known you.

Dick reached out and gently cupped the side of your cheek, running his thumb across your face and wiping some of those tears away. You were so startled by the tenderness of the touch that you couldn't help but to let out a whimper, and you felt frozen as Dick spoke his next words.

“It's gonna be okay.” He told you, trying his hardest to sound confident in the words. “We're gonna get through this. I know we will.”

This time, unlike many before, you couldn't be inspired by his confidence.

“Have you - have you considered what happens if we don't?” Your voice barely reached above a whisper, barely daring to tempt fate with this possibility.

Honestly, Dick had not. In these kinds of situations, he didn't allow himself to focus too much on the negative. As the team leader, he did have to take all the possibilities into account. It was something he had to do in order to keep everyone safe. But if he focused too much on death and darkness, much like Bruce did, then he knew that paranoia would overtake him and his team would get caught in the crossfire.

He had to spend his time coming up with solutions to fix the problem rather than spending his time caught up in knots, worrying about what would happen if he fumbled and didn't actually fix things after all.

The literal end of the world? It just wasn't a possibility in this mind.

But right now, standing there, staring into your big eyes, glossed over with fear as you looked to him for answers - there was only one thing that Dick could think of.

And it was so incredibly selfish. It didn’t have anything to do with the team or being a good leader. It didn’t have anything to do with helping the others.

Dick brushed his thumb over your cheek again, an incredibly tentative touch that had your skin tingling. You let out a small sigh, and the world froze around you when he leaned in - slowly, moving toward you at a pace that more than gave you time to escape if you wanted to. But you found that you didn’t want to. You found his closeness to be an incredible comfort in these moments of mental chaos.

And so, he gently planted his lips on yours.

It should have come as a shock - your childhood best friend kissing you. But in that moment, it just felt right. All you could do was shut your eyes and lean into the kiss, reaching up to grip his wrist, keeping him close to you as you leaned into his smothering heat. His lips were surprisingly soft, and he tasted like coffee - using caffeine to keep himself awake for days, trying to marathon a solution against the impending doom.

His kiss was firm but so giving - a touch that easily swallowed you up with heat from the top of your head all the way down to your toes. It was a sensation that pushed out the rest of the world, smothered any worries about who or what might bring an end to it.

It was the most tender, but most wonderfully passionate kiss that you had ever experienced in your life.

When he pulled away, you sucked in a sharp breath, suddenly feeling incomplete without his lips on yours. The shock then began to set in, like pulling the knife from a stab wound and feeling the blood rush out of you freely. It created a dizzying mixture with the heat that was now boiling under your skin.

Why? Your brain screamed out as you stared at him. When? How long had he wanted to kiss you? How long had you been missing out on Dick Grayson?

Dick could see all those questions bubbling beneath your surface as the fear in your eyes shifted to confusion, and he finally decided to speak.

“I'm sorry.” He said quietly. “But if the world does end, I couldn't die without knowing what kissing you is like.”

“Dick-” You sighed, about to go on a long rant about how he could have done that years ago, about how he should have - and the end of the world was a shitty excuse.

But you abruptly cut off your own words when more footsteps squeaked down the hall - the rubber soles of sneakers scuffing against the polished floor.

Dick jumped away from you as though he had been burned, clearly wanting to keep the interaction private. Both of you tuned to see Gar approaching.

“Dick?” He posed. Gar had a look of confusion, clearly wondering if he should question what was going on between the two of you but swallowing it.

“Yeah?” Dick replied.

“Um - Conner's missing.” He announced this in a nervous, meek tone, not wanting to bring the team leader any more bad news.

“What?” Dick gaped.

There was no time to further discuss what Dick had said to you. With the end of the world in your hands, it easily fell to the back of your mind.

...

If you enjoyed this fic, check out my DC Titans Masterlist for more of my other fics!! And please consider reblogging and commenting on this fic to tell me what you liked about it.

#sundrop writes #dc titans #titans x reader #titans fanfiction #dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x gender neutral reader #dick grayson x gn reader #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson x you #titans hbo #dc titans fanfiction

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myosotisa · 10 months

Text

Try Again - s.h.

Chapter 1 ǁ King of Hearts

ǁ summary: Steve finally scrapes together enough funds and the courage to leave Hawkins behind so he can join Robin in Chicago. One of the first people she introduces him to is you and the aftermath includes a warning that he has heard before (and won't listen to. Again).

ǁ tags: hurt/comfort, angst (with a happy ending not in this chapter). strangers to friends to lovers. set in 1990 Chicago. hurt and slowly healing!Reader and hopeless romantic!Steve. afab!reader, she/her pronouns used, no y/n. this is the only part in the series from Steve's POV.

‖ word count: 2.5k

ǁ series masterlist ǁ next part (coming soon) ǁ

“Have I mentioned lately that you’re hopeless?”

Steve flopped back onto Robin’s couch with a groan, tossing his forearm over his eyes to hide his embarrassment. “If by lately you mean an hour ago, then yeah.”

From her arm chair beside the couch, a bag of popcorn steadily being shoved into her mouth as she watched on amused, she continued, “Then allow me to once again remind you that you are completely hopeless. And this is not the girl you wanna get your heart broken over next.”

Robin had introduced the two of you for the first time tonight – you being her classmate at community college for the last 2 years and him being the best friend who had finally saved up enough to leave Hawkins and be her roommate. She’d anticipated this happening, because you were cute and he was Steve, but she hadn’t quite expected the severity of his sudden heart eyes and awkward complimenting toward you after just a few short hours.

He lowered his arm so he could prop himself up on his elbows to look her in the eye. “She’s already in a relationship, isn’t she?”

“Nope,” she popped the ‘p’ for effect, another handful of popcorn prepared. “The exact opposite actually.”

The skin between his brows folded over itself as he tilted his head, confused. “What? What does that mean?”

She held up a finger for him to wait, finishing her absurdly large mouthful before swallowing to answer. “I mean that in the entire time I’ve known her, she has never mentioned dating or being in a relationship or talking to anyone, guy or girl. And she might just be private or something but she also fucking hates rom coms and rolls her eyes at couples on campus, so I don’t think it’s just being shy.”

Flopping back down with a groan, he threw his arms out wide and almost knocked his glass off the coffee table. “Who hates rom coms?” He asked, like the idea in and of itself was absurd.

She shrugged, reaching for her drink on the coffee table as a few kernels fell off her lap and onto the ground. “Maybe she’s a nun or something, I don’t know. Just… Don’t even think about it, okay? It’s not gonna happen.”

If only it was that easy.

Having missed his best friend and also being new to town, Steve was then involved in almost every plan Robin made, which more often than not also included you. The two of you had become easy friends – not close by any means but fully capable of joking around and talking whenever Robin was late or off somewhere else.

And while he had tried to take Robin’s advice and not let his budding crush bloom, he still found himself more attracted to you by the day. You were smart and witty with a sharp mouth that sometimes spoke before your brain caught up and left you embarrassed and scrambling to recover. Not to mention cute and kind, with a bright smile and a loud laugh that made his heart thump painfully in his chest.

Also so, so funny – he swore it was easier for you to make him laugh than anyone he had ever known (besides Robin), even when he was in the worst of moods. It was clear as day that humor was the primary aspect of your relationship with his best friend. The two of you ended up sending yourselves into hysterics on a daily basis; digging into jokes and ripping back and forth until you were both rolling around in tears.

But there were definitely things that he noticed that made Robin’s theory seem plausible. How you groaned and complained whenever anyone wanted to watch a romance movie, sometimes even got up and left the room when an action movie had a big couple kissing moment. You never talked about anything related to dating or sex but would listen politely and attentively when someone else brought it up. Whenever one of your mutual friends asked for dating advice from the group, yours was always thoughtful and realistic – sometimes to the point of pessimism.

He couldn’t help but be curious – not even specifically because of his own hidden feelings toward you, but just generally to learn more about you. He’d heard before about people who just had no interest at all in romance or sex, and maybe you were one of those people. Or maybe you just wanted to focus on school or something like that. He didn’t want to judge. He just wanted to know.

His first opportunity to ask came a few weeks later. You, him, and Robin were in a booth at your favored late night diner. Robin had called an Emergency French Fry meeting – so the three of you ordered a variety of fried foods to share across the table and some milkshakes as you both listened to Robin recounting her date.

She was still quite new to the act – having gained enough confidence in this new place to try to ask girls out when she felt safe to – but it still didn’t happen super often. And tonight’s date had gone really, really well for her. Rose was a bit more brave now that she knew Robin also liked girls and had pulled out all the stops; holding her hand as they walked down the boardwalk and putting an arm around her on the Ferris Wheel. Stuff Robin still struggled with the confidence to do and was fucking ecstatic that it was finally happening to her.

You showed nothing but excitement for Robin, listening to her go over the evening in detail and asking thoughtful questions, offering insight when Robin asked for it. Steve mostly listened, only adding comments whenever Robin looked at him for input, spending his time watching and trying to keep up. It had become one of his favorite pastimes – especially when the two of you started to talk so fast and so animated that he could barely make heads or tails of any of it.

It was cute. How you both could talk at the speed of sound and skip over half your sentences and still completely understand what the other was saying. It made him so happy for Robin to have a friend like you, which also made you that much more endearing to him.

He only noticed a slight difference in your demeanor when Robin borderline squealed over the fact that Rose had kissed her at the end of the night with a little bit too much detail. You smiled and nodded and explained again how happy you were for her – but your eyes looked sad. Your smile didn't quite reach them.

When Robin complained about needing to go to the bathroom and departed in a whirlwind, silence fell. Your hands were clasped around the base of your milkshake glass, skin brushing the heavy condensation that had collected on the table as you stared at the melting dessert. There was still that same look in your eye as you appeared to be lost in thought. If he didn’t know any better, it almost looked like you wanted to cry but wouldn’t allow yourself to.

Clearing his throat a bit awkwardly, your eyes blinked back into focus and flicked up to meet his. Took a moment to grit his teeth as he considered if he was really about to stick his foot in his mouth and ask this. Decided to do it anyway. “Feel free to tell me to fuck off but… Do you have a crush on Robin or something?”

You sat straight up in near alarm, eyes widening at him. “No! No, I’m not–” You adjusted nervously in your seat, fingers tightening around your glass for a moment. “No, I don’t.”

Not sure how to take your vehement denial, he added on, “It’s okay if you do, I don’t judge,” you looked about ready to inject again but he kept going. “You just looked kind of sad when she was talking about the end of her date so…”

Your expression fell, eyes closing as you forced a deep breath. “It’s nothing like that, I swear. It’s just…”

And he thought you actually were about to tell him something, anything about the whole thing. Finally shed some light to (hopefully) end his weird preoccupation with the idea. But before you could open your mouth again, Robin was falling back into the booth beside him with a happy sigh and more thoughts on the date she had come up with while in the bathroom. You attempted to give her your full attention again, only every once in a while glancing back over at Steve nervously before flicking back.

You were quick to make your escape that night after Robin declared your meeting adjourned – not giving him a single second to potentially bring the topic up again, to his disappointment. Robin gave him a pointed look as you hurried off that asked ‘what did you do?’ to which he just shrugged and directed her back toward his car to go home.

There were a few other things over the next few weeks that just made him more confused. There were sometimes he could swear you were flirting with him, more than you flirted with your average friend. Ending up in his personal space in a crowd, walking beside him on the sidewalk, turning everything you possibly could into a competition between the two of you, laughing louder at his jokes than was probably warranted. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.

One time he’d been invited over to your apartment (with Robin), taking in everything he could to try to learn more about you. He’d made a teasing comment of, “For someone who doesn’t like romance movies, you sure do have a lot of romance books.” You’d spent the next hour wildly alternating between annoyed, embarrassed, and something that looked like fear.

While teasing was about 75% of your interactions together, he’d learned that teasing about that specific topic wasn’t something that went well with you.

Overall, he learned a lot about you. Not just your strange behavior when it came to the topics of romance, but the little things. Like your usual order at the diner and your favorite drinks. The arcade machine you spent the most time at and your most repeated mixtape from your car, plus your favorite song on it. How your eyes lit up when you saw a dog being walked or a cat lounging in a window. That your closet was mostly monotone and heavy on black, and seeing you wearing a color was a rare day. That you went to school at the community college full time while also working full time but somehow always still had plenty of time to be with your friends or help someone out.

He was surprised to find you noticed things about him too – ordering him a drink to be ready when he showed up after you, asking how something had gone at his new job. Things that people normally wouldn’t have remembered, much less cared about. And you weren’t just asking to be nice. You actually, really wanted to know about his normal day to day.

It really didn’t make it easy for him to pretend he wasn’t in way too deep on his feelings for you.

On a cold August night, after a group of you had spent the night in a pinball competition that the two of you got absurdly competitive about (despite both being painfully average at pinball), he offered to walk you home. He’d driven to the bar-cade with Robin but she was still cheering on her now-girlfriend Rose when you explained you were planning to leave for the night, so he had time to walk you home and be back in time to drive her. Fully having expected you to say no, to brush off that it wasn’t that far and you didn’t want him to have to walk back, he was delightfully surprised when you agreed.

The two of you had started out side by side, your arms wrapped tight to keep in the warmth of your light jacket and his hands tucked into his pockets. Without warning, he said, “Hold on, switch with me,” with a light hand on your shoulder. Noticed how you instinctively stiffened at the small moment of contact, not moving as he pulled away his hand and walked around to be in between you and the street.

“Oh,” was your soft reply, realizing that was why he wanted to switch, why he had touched you. You got moving again, unconsciously inching close enough for your shoulders to brush as your walk continued. It took another minute or two to shake off the unexpected interaction, but then the two of you settled into another easy conversation that led you all the way to your apartment.

Unlocking the door and propping it open, you surprised him by turning and leaning back against the door frame. “Thank you, Steve. For walking me home.”

His smile was easy, a bit crooked as he waved off your thanks. “It’s no problem. Anytime, you know that.”

“Yeah,” you offered softly, almost in a sigh. “Yeah, I do.”

And really, he couldn’t help himself. Here you were, leaning back against your door frame right in front of him, just the two of you, after a really fun night. The warm overhead light of the hallway made it look like you were almost glowing as you smiled at him in a way that gave him butterflies. He glanced down at your lips, struck with how much he wished he could kiss you, before he even realized what he was doing.

Your expression turned pained, almost to the point of a wince as you averted eye contact. Softly, almost a whisper, you begged him, “Please don’t look at me like that.”

Caught red handed, flushing all the way up to his ears, he faked ignorance by asking, “Like what?”

“Like you want to kiss me.”

When your eyes met his, they were sad again. Like you wanted to cry but you wouldn’t allow yourself to. And maybe he was a little bit of a lovesick fool when he whispered, “Would that really be such a bad thing?”

You huffed a humorless laugh, eyes closing as you took another deep breath like you needed to center yourself. When you looked up at him again, it was with a certain self-deprecating humor that you told him, “You, Steve Harrington, are Prince Charming. And I… I would never be your fairytale ending.”

He didn’t even have time to process what you might have meant before you murmured goodnight and shut the door in his face.

thanks for reading!! please reblog and leave a reaction if you liked it, they make my day <3

#steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington hurt/comfort #steve harrington angst #steve harrington series #steve harrington x female reader #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #myos ideas #myo4harrington

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artemish · 6 months

Text

Sous chef | opla!Sanji x fem!Reader

word count: 2.1k

genre/tags: Sanji x reader; first-person pov; fluff; pining (but is it mutual??); angst; hurt/comfort; friends to lovers

warnings: mild ptsd; mild trauma

summary: A restless night at sea turns into one of revelations, as the reader finds that the depths of the ocean are much like a certain chef’s heart…

a/n: Hello opla girlies! First time fanfic writer here!!

I am ever the lurker on this website, but something inside me changed when I started watching One Piece, and now I’m down bad for this crew (specifically for the hot cook)

So I thought I’d give it a shot, write a bit of fanfic and see where it goes! I’ve finished the live action and currently watching the anime, so my interpretation of Sanji is quite mixed, however I tried to stay closer to opla!Sanji. I’ve also left this open ended cos I might write more (who knows hehehe)

Shoutout to @honnelander for inspiring me to write again ☺️ (please read her go fish! series if you haven’t!! It’s great!!)

𝘏𝘰𝘱𝘦 𝘺𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘦𝘯𝘫𝘰𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰!

(。･ω･｡)ﾉ♡

Sanji often stayed up late during those long nights at sea, prepping for the next day's meals, making notes of what had been used and taking stock of the ingredients that were left.

It was almost obsessive at times, desperate even.

He ignored everyone’s concern for him to just take it easy and go to sleep, even Nami’s, and refused to give us an explanation.

He would count every last bean, every last grain of rice or drop of water that he could, and he had tried many times but failed to make an accurate record (mostly because Luffy would lessen the supplies significantly).

I hadn’t really understood his habit, until one night, when the waves were particularly rough and I was disturbed from my sleep.

Usually, rough waters didn’t bother me too much, but I was already quite restless that night and had only truly been half asleep.

My mind was a blazing mess from all the thoughts that had been looping endlessly through it.

Thoughts of him.

I sat up on the futon. My hair draped in a tangled mess around my face and over my shoulders.

I looked across at Nami, her back facing towards me, breathing deeply as she slept.

I envied her ease.

I hauled myself out of the bed and straightened the silk nightgown I was wearing. I slipped on the woven shawl I had laid out over my blanket and made my way down the corridor, towards the kitchen.

The waves had picked up their brutality and began to batter the ship quite hard, so that it swayed violently from side to side.

Gripping the sides of the walls and trying to match the sway, I wondered how everyone could sleep so peacefully.

The ship moaned and croaked as it continued to sway.

I stumbled into the kitchen just as it crashed against the starboard side hard, pushing the ship port.

The force took me by surprise, causing me to lose my grip of the wall and my footing.

I tumbled through the doorway, and slammed hard against the stack of barrels in the corner.

The momentum of the ship turned once more. Lurching towards the right again, I slid off the barrel and slammed face first onto the ground.

“Ah shit!” I yelped. All traces of sleep had officially left me.

“Luffy, that better not be you,” came a brash voice from the darkness, “and if it is, you best be walking out that door right now.”

“Ack, Sanji?”

In the dull light, I saw the concerned face of the cook instantly pop around the counter.

“Y/n! Gods, are you alright?”

He moved swiftly to where I was laying and gently lifted me up.

“You're alright now, love. C’mon up. That’s it, easy”

He swung my arm around his neck and held my waist tightly as he led me to the bench seating on the other side of the kitchen counter.

Despite the daze I was in, I still felt my heart quicken, at his firm grip on my waist and at the ease with which he picked me up.

“Sanji, what are you doing up?” I whispered, not because I was trying to be quiet, but because the knock had left me completely winded.

He sat me down and wrapped my shawl around me tightly, rubbing my shoulders as he did, and kneeled down in front of me.

“Are you okay? Look at my fingers, how many do you see? Are you cut anywhere, y/n? Do you have a concussion? Do you want some water, tea? What do you need, I’ll get it for you, anything you nee-”

“Sanji,” I said, holding my hand firmly on his mouth to keep him quiet, “I’m alright.”

I squeezed his shoulder, as I saw a sigh of relief wash over his face. “You really got to stop treating me like some princess you know.”

“Madam, you are the loveliest person to ever grace this ship. I would hate it if I couldn’t bask in your beauty everyday.”

“You’re laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” But I could feel my stomach fluttering at his words.

He grinned, “madam, someone as lovely as you deserves to hear it said often.”

I shoved his shoulder. “Shut up!”

He laughed. He looked so soft in the light of the lantern.

“You didn’t answer my question by the way.”

“What question?” he asked, as he got up to sit next to me.

“Why are you awake?”

He turned his face away from me and shifted uneasily on the bench. “Why does it matter?”

“Sanji, why are you awake, really? What is it that you’re not telling us? You know I’ve lost track of how many times Luffy’s found you asleep in here because you’ve been up doing… well, whatever you do. What’s going on?”

He let out a deep sigh as he turned back around to face me, looking at me through the flop of blonde hair that covered half his face. He bit his lip hard and dropped his head, defeated it would seem.

The ship continued to sway and croak and groan, as the silence between us grew.

He looked small, afraid. I reached out to hold his hands and he took them eagerly, squeezing them tightly as he did.

“You all know about what happened to me and Zeff,” he said finally, “and I appreciate the kind words and empathy you’ve all given me, but you could never really understand what that was like, being out there. Waiting to die. The scorching, unrelenting sun in the day that made my skin flake off. The icy air of night that felt like daggers, prodding at my burnt flesh. Being hollowed out from the inside, from the hunger, until the numbness set in and I thought I’d melt into that shitty rock. Even being as careful as I was, as precise, I still didn’t have nearly enough food to survive, and it really was only by fate or luck, a real miracle actually, that we were rescued.

I guess I haven’t shook that feeling yet, that fear. It was easier to distract myself in the restaurant, you know, being surrounded by food and all, but here it’s different here. I-I just want be sure, I want to know that we’re good, at all times, because I don’t want any of you to go through what I did. It’s shit, yeah I know, but I’d rather not sleep then let any of you go through that.”

Again, the silence between us was palpable.

I felt like I’d been punched.

He breathed heavily, as if trying to catch his breath and I knew then that this was something he had kept buried deep within himself because the true nature of his fear was so horrific, so raw, who could ever understand it?

None of us had been out there with him, even though we would all do the same for each other.

But our sentiments were just words.

He had lived it.

The silence grew stifling.

I knew he would do anything to protect us from that fate.

“Sanji”

“You-you can’t tell the others. They don’t need to know, yeah? I’m happy as long as they’re fed with no complaints.”

“But Sanji-”

“Y/n, please don’t tell them.”

“Then why are you telling me?”

The mess of thoughts in my mind was growing.

He held my hands tighter and used them to pull himself towards me. His thumbs made circular motions on my palms.

I heard my heart pounding in my ears and I stupidly hoped he couldn’t hear it.

“Darling, I am a ball of dough in your hands. You can knead me and form me any way you’d like, and I’ll give you no resistance.”

“Pfft” I giggled and so did he.

At this, I felt like we were both at ease again.

I always admired his way of keeping things light.

“No, but, if you’d allow me, madam, to be serious,” he straightened up a bit then, “I suppose I was hoping that you’d find me in here. I was hoping that I could tell just you. You’ve got a way about you that everyone just finds trustworthy. I don’t know but there’s, there’s something about you...” He trailed off and laughed before he could finish, and I could see a faint blush of pink on his cheeks. “Sorry I-I ugh, I’m a bit sleep deprived. I’m just glad you’re here.”

I had never seen this side of him (or any side of him for that matter) though I knew it existed. Somewhere under the flirtatious, playboy persona he put out, I knew there was a genuine sweetness. I just wished I was more awake to really enjoy it.

Once the pain I was in wore off, my whole body felt heavy, like it was being pulled down with the full force of gravity, and the sway of the ship was less violent and more like the gentle rock of a cradle.

“You know, you don’t have to pretend with me.” I swept his bangs out of his eyes and kept my hand cupped around the side of his face. I hadn’t realised how blue his eyes were until now.

Even in the dull light, I could see every shade of blue there was swirling in them, like the ocean’s raging swell on a moonlit night. I saw the sleep in his eyes weighing him down too.

“You know this is the most words I’ve heard out of your mouth since I got here.”

He grinned sleepily, “well I’ve just been trying to find the right time to talk to you, my swan.”

I could feel my cheeks burn and I hoped he didn’t see the blush come over them.

“I didn’t think the right time would be 3am, me face planted and bruised in the kitchen, but here we are.”

“You are alright now, yeah?”

“Of course,” I scoffed, “I’m just sleepy. You look sleepy too.”

As if on cue, he yawned and leaned back on the bench.

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s super late. And Luffy wanted everyone to have a big breakfast tomorrow, you know with eggs, bacon, croissants, etc. Breakfast service is always the most important. But I just…” his voice trailed off again, but there was a hint of frustration this time.

“You just can’t sleep, like you cannot.”

“Yeah.”

“I get it,” I said, and I did, “the memories, they come back; more vividly, more real at night. It’s like it’s better to be awake than asleep. Like sleep causes you to relive the pain. Every moment, everything.”

“Y/n,” he said with concern in his voice, “what caused you pain, my love?”

My love.

Those words rang in my ears for some time, even now. Did he mean it?, I thought, maybe he feels the same?

Was all that flirting genuine or was he just being nice?

Was he just being Sanji?

It had been such a long, revealing night, but that stuck out to me and I couldn’t shake it.

He had been so open about his fears, not even the captain knew what he was telling me, I was sure of it.

So then, I kept thinking, why me?

If I didn’t mean something more, then why me?

While I was mulling all this over, I hadn’t noticed that I was leaning on his shoulder until he pulled me into a hug, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tightly, so that my face rested on his chest.

The slit in his poet shirt revealed his tanned skin underneath.

I boldly moved my hand up his chest and traced his freckles with my fingers.

He played with my hair.

Friends definitely didn’t do this.

“Let’s not talk about that now,” I whispered, “just close your eyes, okay? And Sanji?”

“Yes?”

“If you need a sous chef tomorrow morning, I’ll be there.”

I felt his soft laugh hum in his chest.

“Thank you, y/n. I’ll take you up on that.”

He buried his face in my hair as he continued to hug me and I felt his whole body relax.

In one night, the chef had shown me that there were more layers to this cake of a personality he had than I had fully anticipated, and all of them were deliciously sweet.

Delectable even.

And confusing.

As we slipped further into sleep, we had also unknowingly laid ourselves out on the bench, still tangled in each other's embrace, and sharing my shawl for warmth.

An embrace that was a little too close for friends.

— — — — —

“We’re just friends, Nami,” I hissed, trying to restrain myself from yelling in her ear, “there’s nothing there! He-we- we’re just friends! There are no feelings, we are JUST friends.”

She found us in the morning and woke me up, leaving Sanji still asleep.

I flapped around our room, growling out my protests as I did, but it was no use.

She just sat there.

Just sat there.

Arms folded and tapping her toes.

With a huge smirk plastered across her face.

“Yeah, I bet you are.”

#opla sanji #opla sanji x fem!reader #opla sanji x reader #opla sanji x y/n #sanji x reader #sanji x y/n #opla x reader #first person pov #vinsmoke sanji #sanji vinsmoke #sanji fanfic #sanji fanfiction #opla #one piece sanji #one piece #one piece fanfiction #one piece fanfic #actually down on my knees for this man 🙈🙇🏽‍♀️

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seenoversundown · 3 months

Text

Siren

Jake x Fem OC (AU)

Warnings: 18+ Smut (Minors DNI) Soft Dom (M) edging, teasing (flirting way not bullying) Hand kink, Oral (M receiving) , Penetrative sex, Cursing, Fingering (F receiving), Cute fluff and silly jokes at odd times.

Word Count: 4.2k

Author’s Note: I love these two so much 😭 Once I had the thought for them, I had to write it 🩷

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Siren (noun) 1. any of a group of female and partly human creatures in Greek mythology that lured mariners to destruction by their singing

Charlotte POV

Opening the doors to the bar, I take a quick scan to see who else is working. Seeing that my favorite spot at the bar was open, I swiftly made my way over to claim it as mine once again. Where is he? Nobody is behind the bar at the moment, but I can hear movement out back.

“Helloooo, my dear!” Josh’s voice rings down the hall.

“Oh, hi Josh, how are you?”

“Great now that you’re here,” he starts, which seems charming to most. Still, I know what that means, “I should be off momentarily. Well, as soon as my wonderful brother finally shows up,” he says with a complacent smile plastered on his face.

“What are you and Quinn doing for the evening?” I ask.

“I let Quinn decide because I got my gift this morning,” he tells me, followed by a wink.

Oh my god, Joshua, what the hell.

I slowly blink at him before I respond, “That’s great, Josh. I’m so happy for you.” If I didn’t have my makeup done right now, I would be rubbing my eyes until I saw stars. I never needed that image in my head.

The door chimes ring, causing us both to look over. Mmm, there he is. Jacob saunters over to me; his eyes always seem to find me when he enters a room. In his usual button-up, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, only the bottom half of the buttons were actually done. I love the way he’s so comfortable having his chest exposed, and maybe it’s selfish because I daydream about curling up with him every night.

“Hi,” his tiny, raspy voice mumbles. His hand gently cups my jaw as he places a sweet kiss on my lips, followed by a few little pecks.

“Hi,” I manage to squeeze out in between kisses, “I missed you,” I can feel his smile through the kiss. I’ll never get over that, before pulling back and running his hand down the back of my head.

“I always miss you, honey,” he says, rounding the corner behind the bar. “Did you not order anything yet?”

I simply shake my head ‘No.’

“I was waiting for you to make it.” Resting my chin into my hand, I watch his eyes light up. His hand gesturing for me to wait a minute, he quickly puts a drink together for me.

“A Boulevardier for you, m’lady,” the English accent he loves coming through.

“What’s the occasion?” I ask, my eyebrow-raising out of skepticism.

He shrugs as he backs away to take care of other customers who just sat down. Knowing him, he probably feels terrible that he has to work today. I can’t really say much, I have been working all week, and this is quite honestly the earliest I’ve been off.

I will gladly sit here all night, though. I may have a little surprise of my own... Even though Valentine’s Day is overrated? Hush, I know it’s silly, but a girl can have fun sometimes, okay? Ever since I met Jacob, he’s been an easy target. That sounds mean.. I just mean he’s still a man. Sometimes, I take advantage of that, and honestly, it benefits us both.

Watching him work is practically a hobby of mine at this point, anyway. I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of it, his hands, his hands, his hands. The way he has gotten so confident in making drinks and talking to customers, it’s been like night and day since I first came in. He can quickly pour drinks without having to measure, and seeing him shaking drinks is… I’m better than no woman, alright? He’s so fine, and watching his arm muscles flex. GOD. This may be a more potent drink than usual.

“I’m sorry, this is how we have to spend Valentine’s together,” he finally admits. And the truth comes out, about time, Jacob.

“No, it’s okay, really.”

“No, no, I’ll make it up to you,” he says softly, reaching over to grab one of my hands, “I promise,” finishing with a little wink as he runs his thumb over the back of my hand. He promises?

“And how are you going to do that?” I can’t help but ask. I have been spending too much time around Josh, and now, I’m way too nosy for my own good.

“I have some ideas,” he says quietly, “I think you’ll enjoy them.”

“I guess we’ll see,” I tell him, the smile pulling at the corners of my mouth. How is he real?

“Did you make my drink stronger tonight, or is it just made with extra love?” I ask, knowing it’s a bit cheesy, but Jacob is a sucker for romantic things.

“You think I’m just trying to get you drunk?” He cocks an eyebrow, “Because you may be onto my plan.” Slapping my hand over my mouth, I can’t stop the giggle from escaping.

“Jacob!”

He leans over the bar slightly, gesturing for me to come closer. I stand on the little footrest bar of the barstool, leaning over the bar to meet him in the middle.

“Can’t wait to hear you yelling that later,” he whispers quickly before turning to press a kiss on my cheek. JACOB– Two can play this game.

My jaw going slack; I don’t even know what to say to him. My lack of response to him elicits the most beautiful smile from him. Nothing makes my heart swell more than seeing that boy smile. I watch as he turns, hearing his name called from the other end of the bar. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The bar gets more crowded now that the night has gone on; every seat at the bar is filled. I’ve had the pleasure of not having to ask for refills but receiving them, along with a few saucy glances from the most delicious bartender I’ve met.

I tap on my phone to scroll through any notifications when the idea hits me. I click on my messages, seeing his cute little face pinned to the top.

Me: Maybe I am sad that we’re here on Valentine's Day.. 🥺

I hit send and then wait for him to look at his phone. Please, please, please. He slides it out of his back pocket and unlocks it. Glancing over to me, giving me a little frown before quickly typing away.

Jacob ❤️: i’m sorry honey, just a little longer then I’m all yours.

‘I’m all yours’ making my heart flutter. Jacob is the most wonderful person I’ve ever encountered, and somehow, he’s mine.

I need to pee. I wave him down and point to the bathrooms, knowing he’ll ensure nobody takes my seat. I scroll through my emails as I walk down the hall into the bathroom, managing to catch one of them as someone is coming out. I glance at myself in the mirror as I walk in, and suddenly the lightbulb goes off. Mmmm yes.

I look in the mirror, fix my hair, and check to make sure my lipstick isn’t all over the place. I open the camera on my phone, facing the mirror, and pull up one side of my sweater dress. Revealing the black lace garter snug against my thigh, knowing it would drive him crazy. Taking the picture, a slight pout on my face; he best think I’m hot. Tugging my dress back down into place and locking my phone, I head back to the bar.

Sliding into my seat, he’s already clocked me being back. It’s cute how fast he’ll catch me. Noticing that my drink is full and fresh, I go to take a sip of it, but as I lift the glass, I see there’s writing on the napkin.

‘You look beautiful, I can’t wait to get you home’ is scribbled across the top. I feel the heat rush into my cheeks about as quickly as my thighs tighten while I read it. 11:15 p.m. stares back at me, thank god the bar is closing early tonight I don’t know how much longer I can do this. I click on his messages again, choosing the picture I just took and hitting send.

This is my favorite part. I sip on my drink for a few minutes before he finally reaches for his phone. Leaning against the back counter, I see him tap on his messages. Oops, is all that runs through my mind as I watch his entire face turn red. Looking up at the ceiling for a second and then back at his phone, zooming in and pulling his phone closer to his face to see my little present better.

Jacob ❤️: holy shit

Jacob ❤️: FOR ME?

Jacob ❤️: i need to thank everything and anything in the sky for letting you be mine. But really, youre so hot??? I’m so lucky?

I love when he’s flustered. Who am I? I love him always. Flustered is just a cute bonus.

Me: only 30 more minutes baby 🤭

The way he drops his head back when he’s struggling makes me giggle. The next thirty minutes need to fly by, or I think one of us may explode. ⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯

The moment the last customer walks out of the bar, Jake is right behind them to lock the doors. Shutting all the lights off in the front in one go before coming over to me.

“You ready to go?” practically falls out of his mouth. I look around, you’re not clocked in right now, and look back at him.

“Don’t you need to clean?”

“It can wait,” he says, pulling me closer to him, “You’re more important.”

Wrapping my arms around his neck, I press my body against his.

“Baaaaby,” I coo into the crook of his neck. Feeling his hands run down my back and landing on my waist, he gently squeezes. He lets out a small ‘mmm’ that radiates through his chest.

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” he says, pressing a kiss to the side of my head.

I grab my bag from the barstool, and Jacob already has my hand in his, pulling me down the hall.

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Walking into the apartment, it’s dark, and no signs of life.

“Josh?” Jake says, flipping on the lights in the kitchen, “Bub, are you home?” He walks over, gently cracking Josh’s bedroom door to see that it’s empty. Thank god.

“He must be at Quinn’s,” I whisper, “He said something about he let them choose tonight’s activities because he already got his gift.”

I giggle as Jake shudders, “Hun, you don’t have to tell me everything he says to you.”

“I had to hear it, so you also have to,” I giggle as he comes closer. “Plus, he’s YOUR brother, so.. it’s only fair.”

“I’ll let it slide this time,” he says, glancing down at my lips before making eye contact, “but only because I’m very interested in this surprise you have for me.”

Grabbing his shirt and pulling him close, I take a second to admire him. I lean in, placing the tiniest kiss on the tip of his nose. Then, moving down to kiss the corners of his lips, oh, his lips. Seeing the little smirk creep up as I linger over his mouth, I love to tease him and see how long I can stay just a whisper above before he breaks. Tonight didn’t take long before he leaned into the kiss, feeling his soft lips press against my bottom one. Sliding my hands up, holding the nape of his neck as he gently nips at me.

His hands glide from my waist down to my thighs, grabbing behind my knees to pick me up. Instinctively, wrapping my legs around his waist.

“Let’s go, Captain,” I whisper into his ear, eliciting the most delicious groan from him. He picked up his pace to the bedroom as I pressed a kiss just under his ear, letting lip prints trail down his neck.

Pushing the door open with his foot, he spins us around so he can sit on the edge of the bed with me on his lap. Sliding my dress up my thighs, revealing that black lace I’ve been taunting him with.

“You really do love me huh?” He says, pulling back to look at me, his teeth on full display. I only reply with a quiet ‘mhm’ as I bring my hands back down to his chest, unable to keep eye contact when his mouth looks like that.

Pushing his chest gently so he’ll lay back on his bed, I hover over him just for a second before he pulls me in for a kiss. This one was more desperate, practically whimpering into my mouth. Fuck me. His hands find the bottom hem of my dress, sliding it up and over my ass, the cool air drawing goosebumps to my skin. He grabs a handful while the other hand slides up to cradle my back.

Swiftly flipping us over, he hovered over me with a devious grin on his face. He props himself up onto a knee, looking down to see the bottom of my lingerie on display.

“Fuck me,” he mutters, sliding my dress higher as I arch my back to help him.

“I’ve been trying,” I quip back, leaning up on my elbows. The look on his face is priceless, his jaw slacked and eyes hooded. I pull my dress over my head carefully and run my hands through my hair quickly.

“You’re a needy little thing, aren’t you?”

YES. I nod rapidly, reaching my hands out for the bottom of his shirt, lifting it just enough that I can barely see the small trail of fine hair. His hands find mine, gently pinning them above me.

“Mm mm,” he murmurs into my ear, sending a chill through my body, “You need to tell me what you want from me, hun.”

What. “I uhh—“ I hesitate, distracted by how I can see down his shirt, watching his stomach muscles tense slightly.

He’s staring at me with that one eyebrow cocked and a little smug smirk, holding both of my hands with one of his.

“Use your words, tell me,” his hand finds a place on the nape of my neck, as his thumb runs across my cheekbone, “I know you’re thinking it; just say it.” His voice switched to a whisper, causing goosebumps to creep in rapidly.

Touch me, please. For the love of GOD, Jacob.

“I need you,” I finally squeak out.

He laughs softly to himself, “Do you want me to..” his voice trailing off as his hand slides down to my chest, gently resting on my sternum. Without having to do anything, I can feel my nipples start to harden; I swear his eyes light up at the sight. Quickly palming one of my breasts, he dances his index finger around me, and I’m already squirming. A small moan slips out, getting his attention.

“Is this what you wanted?”

“Please, Jacob,” I softly whine, his hand wandering to my other breast.

The smile on his face is taunting me. He knows exactly where I want him. If he weren’t sitting between my legs, oh god, my legs would be tightly together.

“Touch me,” laced with a moan, falls from my lips, “Please, Jake.”

Letting go of my hands, he finds both of his sliding down my waist and holding onto my thighs, gently squeezing them. Fuck. Slowly moving them up, barely touching the lace fabric, my hips shift, trying to find relief.

“Oh,” he says lowly, “This is what you want?” He ever so lightly drags a single finger down my lace-covered middle; I can’t stop the breathy moan coming from me.

“More baby,” comes out whinier than expected, “please please please more.”

“How could I ever say no to you?” His soft voice, wrapped in the most sultry tone, already has me in a chokehold when he dips his hand under the lace fabric. His fingers quickly find the perfect spot, making small circles on my touch-starved bud. The sounds pouring out of my mouth at this point are absurd.

He slides his other hand up my thigh, his index finger gently dipping into me, not far but enough to elicit a small gasp from me. The way this man can have me drenched at the lightest touch is insane.

I watch as he pulls his hand up, placing that same index finger into his mouth and slowly pulling it back out. FUCK he’s hot.

“My sweet girl,” he says, reaching up to caress my cheek for a moment before he taps my bottom lip, “let me—“ My mouth couldn’t open fast enough, he slides his middle and ring finger in and without hesitation I’m already swirling my tongue around them, hearing him moan quietly at the feeling.

He pulls his hand slowly back but swiftly, finding my entrance and pushing them in.

“Shit,” I mumble.

Finding the right spot, he continues pressing into it, making that knot in my stomach tighter.

“Come on, honey,” his voice makes everything even more overwhelming. “Need to hear how good you feel.”

That pushes me over the edge, my back arching as I’m overcome with pleasure. A slew of ‘oh my god’s and ‘Jacob’ loudly escape my body. He slows down but still applies pressure as I come down.

I reach my arms out to him, pulling him down on top of me, wrapping all my limbs around him. Turning my face into the crook of his neck, pressing little kisses all over him.

“Feel good?” he mumbles into me.

“Mhmm,” I hum against his warm skin, “It’s your turn,” Feeling his chest vibrate with a laugh, I hold him tighter against me.

As he starts to sit up, I let go, missing his warmth already. We switch places; he’s sat up against the headboard. I immediately crawl up in between his legs, wasting no time as I unbutton the rest of his shirt, pushing it out of the way. Kissing my way down from his jaw to his collarbones, finding that slight dip in the middle of his chest. His hands make their way into my hair, brushing it away from my face as I press my lips into his soft skin just above his hips.

Unbuttoning his pants alone makes him groan; his dick pressed tightly under the waistband, poor thing. Pushing them down with his boxers, my mouth is watering at the sight alone. Lightly tracing my finger up his length before fully wrapping my hand around him, carefully stroking him before wrapping my lips around him, and letting my tongue dance around him. Slowly taking more of him into my mouth, I glance up through my lashes to see his head tilted back against the headboard. Peering down at me, his mouth is barely open, but enough that his moans ring through my ears. I move up slowly and back down, going further so he’ll keep making those beautiful noises. As my nose just touches his stomach, I moan a little, causing his hands to tighten their grip on my hair.

I come up, still working him with my hand as I line myself up with him. He slides the lace over as I lower myself onto him, his hands finding their place on my hips as I adjust to the feeling.

“You feel so good,” he mumbles out, clearly focusing hard as his eyes shut softly. I roll my hips forward as he hits that spot again; oh god. Lifting my hips and dropping back down carefully, everything feels good.

“Oh,” I let out, as he starts thrusting his hips up into me, slowly at first but building up speed.

“Oh my god, baby,” I can’t hold back the moans anymore as he’s hitting the right spots, “Holy shit.”

“Stand up for me,” he says as he slows his hips down.

My legs shake as I lift myself off of him, stepping off the bed as he quickly follows behind. His hands snake around me, pressing his chest against my back, peppering kisses down my neck onto my shoulder.

“I’ve been thinking about bending you over all night,” he tells me softly, “can you do that for me, beautiful?” I don’t answer him, turning and pressing a kiss against his cheekbone and then leaning down and stretching my arms out.

His hands graze my ass as he steps closer; I can’t help but wiggle myself against him, teasing him until his palm swats at me with a small clap.

“Mmm, have I been bad, Captain?” I turn my head to see him from the corner of my eye, trying not to giggle at how ridiculous that sounds.

His head falls backward as he lets out a belly laugh. He leans over me and presses a kiss in between my shoulder blades.

“Soooo bad,” he says with a wink.

He lines himself up with me, gently pushing himself in, and god is it good. Feeling his hipbones pressed against me before he starts pumping himself into me. This angle is probably my favorite, feeling so full from him and it’s hitting all the right places.

“Harder, baby,” comes out a bit louder than before, with a loud moan right behind it. His hand sneaks around me, going back to its rightful place in between my legs and adding some friction to my throbbing clit. The sensation of his hand mixed with the feeling of him behind me. I swear I’m in heaven.

“Don’t hold back, honey,” he tells me. “Told you I wanted to hear you scream my name tonight, let it out.”

‘Oh my god,’ slips out as the tension builds again. I’m so close.

“Need to feel you come for me.”

His voice, mixed with his hand and his hips digging into my ass, sent me over the edge. I can’t refrain from the loud ‘Jacob’ that comes out of me as my orgasm tingles through my body. His hips slow a bit as he rubs my sides, waiting for me to come back to earth.

“God, you’re so hot,” he whispers, making us both giggle for a second. “This isn't gonna last much longer, hun.”

I reach back and tap his leg so he’ll step back, pulling out slowly. I push myself up from the bed, turning to face him and sinking to my knees. Wrapping my hand around him and pumping a few times before I lick a stripe up the length of him. Letting him slide into my mouth, I tap on his hip twice, and he starts to thrust gently. He carefully gathers all my hair, wrapping his around his hand and holding the back of my head.

“I’m gonna-” he starts, and before he can finish, I bob my head so he goes deeper. The delicious moan he lets out fills my ears before I feel his release. His head falls back as he rides out his high. I swallow as he pulls back, letting my hands glide up his stomach, enjoying the bliss on his face before he opens his eyes.

His hands grab mine and pull me up to my feet. Quickly grabbing the sides of my face, giving my lips a quick glance before smiling into me. His soft lips pressed into mine, taking turns trying not to smile, giggling at each other as he peppered my face with tiny pecks.

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My legs are tired as I walk into the living room and find Jacob sitting on the couch watching whatever Hallmark movie is on the TV. I shouldn’t be drooling over him already, but when he’s just there with no shirt and in his sweatpants, I can’t help myself. I can’t believe he’s MINE.

“Hi there,” he says, reaching out for me. “Feel better?” As I’m crawling into his lap.

“Much better. The shower was needed after all of that.”

Wrapping his arms around me as I curl up like a kitten on top of him, this is my favorite place to be. I tuck my face into his neck, enjoying the warmth of his skin. Quietly toying with his necklace, fixing the chain so the clasp is in the right spot. We sit in the quiet, the background noise of the cheesy romance on the TV keeping it from being silent.

“Are you hungry?” he whispers.

“I’m starving, actually,” I giggle back.

“Thank god,” the relief evident in his tone, “I’ll make us something quickly.”

“Jacob,” I glance at the clock, “It’s almost 2 a.m.”

“Already back to my full name?” he asks, raising his eyebrow. My mouth falls open; I tend to full-name him, but honestly, I just love it.

“You know what,” I start, holding eye contact with him, “Carry on. Thank you, baby.” There’s that smile.

“I could just call you Captain,” I tease, giggling as he turns around.

Pointing at me with a wooden spoon, “Don’t start something you’re not gonna finish, hun.”

Standing up from the couch, I make my way over to him, wrapping my arms around his waist and leaning my face against his back as he cooks. Fiddling with the waistband of his sweatpants until he grabs my hand.

“Alright now,” he mumbles, “what did I just tell you?” his laugh vibrates through his body.

“And who said I can’t finish it?”

He turns around promptly, that devilish smirk creeping back onto his face, “care to try your luck?”

“Whenever you want, Captain.”

Masterlist | Taglist | Caravel Tavern Series Masterpost

Taglist Besties: I may have had a little Jakedown and this happened 🤭 Hope you enjoy xoxo

@gvfsstardust , @myleftsock , @mindastreamofcolours , @dont-go-home-without-me , @literal-dead-leaf , @lizzys-sunflower , @mackalah , @klarxtr , @edgingthedarkness , @writingcold , @i-love-gvf , @takenbythemadness , @ladywhimsymoon , @earthgrlsreasy , @peaceloveunitygvf , @violet-hayes , @musicspeaks , @anythingforjtk

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modelbus · 7 months

Text

This might be more on the angst side… oops? Also, this is like 3k words… There are POV switches!! And this was inspired by an ao3 story with a similar premise but that was with Kaz and Wylan so there’s that.

There is alcohol and suggestiveness in this! Be warned, it’s a bit different than my usual!

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x gn!Reader

Flufftober 4 - It’s All An Act (Spies)

"Sorry, what?" You stare at Kaz, and he stares back evenly.

"It's a simple mission. You don't have to do anything."

"Then why do you need me?"

He sighs, gloved hand tightening and loosening on his crow cane. Without a doubt, he was upset at you for not getting it, but forgive you for being a little startled when he asks you to pretend to date him!

"It'll be too suspicious if I show up alone. All I need you for is pretending to date me. But carry some weapons in case things go... awry."

"You want me to go with you to a party, pretend to date you, and... that's it?"

"That's it."

You stare at him for a few more moments, trying to figure out if he had any other angle. Most times, Kaz Brekker kept his crows in the loop. But there were times when he didn't, and you knew him too well to not try and figure out if it was or wasn't.

Although you were the second newest crow (thanks to Wylan for taking the newest title) you and Kaz actually somewhat got along. You’re certain it's because he values you ability to kill without hesitation. That's what you are to him: his assassin. Your role, your one job, was to kill and to kill efficiently.

He didn't question why you were able to kill so easy, and you didn't question his aversion to touch and water. You got along, and things were fine.

Or, they were, until you had to go and start noticing stupid things about him. Like the way he looked mid-fight, slamming his cane into someone. Or the way his lips would barely twitch when one of them said something particularly funny. It took you a bit to realize, but when you did you knew you were royally fucked.

Because, of course, you started to develop feelings for Kaz Brekker. Feelings that, as long as you were sane, would stay quite hidden. Which only made this whole job harder.

He wanted you to pretend to date him. It might just be the hardest thing he's asked of you yet, and he doesn't even know it.

"Take the job. Wish I could go to a party." Jesper grumbles, and you glance at the sharp shooter sitting next to you.

"Unfortunately, no one in their sound mind would believe we were dating." Kaz says cooly. "That, and everyone knows your face around here."

You grimace. Your own insurance, coming to bite you in the ass. Most people only saw you face before you killed them. It was easier to sneak around in plain sight that way. Obviously the crows were the exceptions, and maybe a few others out there.

"You're sure nobody else wants to do this?" You try.

"Wylan and Jesper are far too in love for me to take Wylan, Inej is out hunting slavers, and Nina..." He shakes his head.

"Fine. Whatever. I'll do the stupid job."

You sigh, knowing this job very well might be the death of you. Emotional death, that is. But then again, it was Kaz. Surely he wasn't the type to be a touchy fake date, not with his touch aversion.

"Good. Meet me down here at nine sharp tomorrow night. Dress nice, have concealed weapons."

Kaz walks off, not waiting for you to confirm you understood his directions. You scowl at his back before sighing.

"This will be a disaster."

"I'm sure it'll be fun!" Jesper exclaims. "It's a party, how bad can it be?"

"I have to fake date Kaz Brekker." You deadpan.

"Yeah, but he wants you for arm candy. To draw the attention away from him. That's the closest to a compliment you'll ever get out of him."

You can't help but sigh again. "We take what we can get with him, don't we?"

Kaz is waiting for you outside the Crow Club when you arrive. He isn't dressed any different from his normal, except a pocket watch with a fancier chain than you’re used to. His gaze is level as he gazes at you as you walk towards him.

And you knows you looks good, but that isn't why he's looking at you. You’re in a nice outfit for once, flowing sleeves down to your wrists, and black gloves up to your elbows nearly. The gloves and long sleeves were carefully planned, knowing exactly what role you’d be playing tonight.

"How many knives do you have?" Kaz asks, looking behind you, almost like he's checking to see if you were followed by anyone.

"Seven." You grin. You may be a pretty distraction tonight, but you’re just as dangerous as you are pretty.

"Good." He nods. Not approval, but close enough. "Let's go."

You walk next to him as they go through the streets of Ketterdam, slowly heading to the more expensive places. The streets widen, becoming more and more lit as they go, and you realize that maybe you should've asked whose party this was.

"So, Brekker. Lovely night, isn't it?" You ask conversationally. From the very start You’ve always used his last name, and haven’t even thought of changing that despite how he always ground his teeth at it.

"What do you want?" He snaps.

"Come on, be nicer to your date." You can't help yourself. Kaz might not react much, but it's funny when he does react.

"This was a bad idea."

"But we're too far into it now."

Kaz's jaw clenches, and you can't help but laugh quietly. "So, the plan?"

He sighs, and you wait a moment. Although he's sometimes an asshole, and mostly keeps things to himself, he's always told you everything you needed to know in a plan.

"Just look pretty and act stupid. Do what I tell you, for once." He finally says.

"Oh, yikes, that'll be really hard. I mean, listening to you?" You joke.

Kaz pulls up short, slamming his cane out in front of you. "I mean it, assassin."

And just as you called him Brekker, he called you by your job. Assassin.

"You can't call me that tonight." You respond calmly. "It'll give us away."

"Say it."

You groan. "Fine. I'll listen to you."

He nods sharply, continuing on. "Good."

"You're a little paranoid, don't you think?"

Kaz doesn't even justify you with an answer at that one, leaving you to walk alongside him quietly.

"This is it." He announces suddenly, and draws up short.

You let your eyes flicker over the building—tons of windows—then return to him. "...are you sure?"

"Yes. Inside. Now."

The second you take a step in, you shrink yourself. Shoulders curling in, angling yourself towards Kaz. You can feel his eyes on you as you do so, raking over you.

"Loosen up." He instructs you in a low voice.

"Easy for you to say." You murmur back. "You're not the one pretending to be the crow's whore."

"Someone's said that to you before."

It's not a question. Of course it isn't. Kaz's eyes sharpen, hardening into something mean in front of you.

"Not now." You say dismissively.

He glares at you but gives you a curt nod, and together you walk into the party. You, just for tonight, let yourself revel in the eyes being drawn to you. You give a taunting grin to someone they walk by, playing up your role a little.

Look pretty? Yeah, you can do that.

"Mr. Brekker." A merchant says, his eyes sliding from Kaz to you. "And..."

"Alex." you purr, tilting your head.

Like hell you’re giving your real name out to anyone here. Instead, Alex, a random name, will have to do.

"My date." Kaz cuts in smoothly. "Don't mind them."

"Pretty." The merchant says appraisingly. You should be flattered, but you’re more disgusted.

Kaz tilts his head, studying you. "Yes." He agrees coldly. "Get a drink, we're going to talk business. Loosen up."

You pause, but this certainly isn't the time to mention that youve never drank before. Instead you give him a graceful nod, floating off through the crowds.

The bar is an open bar, you can tell that from the lazy way the bartender is flashing his watch. Nobody here is expected to get drunk, or to steal it. Unfortunately for them, you and Kaz are here, so no watch is safe.

"I'll have a drink." You say lightly, leaning on the counter.

"Of?" The bartender asks, snorting.

Shit.

"Make me what you're best at." You answer, looking at him through your eyelashes. It should be a safe answer.

By the way the bartender smiles and starts to make something, it is. A second later a glass of something is slid your way. Here's to hoping this won't fuck with you too much.

Kaz Brekker

He's starting to get a little worried. Not too much, he knows you can handle yourself perfectly fine, but it has been a while since he sent you off. You weren’t at the bar: he's been checking it every few moments.

It's starting to piss him off. One job, one easy job, and you can't even follow that. There was no point in bringing you if you was just going to vanish.

"Come on, Assassin." He murmurs, still scanning the crowd.

Truthfully, he shouldn't be calling you that here. Alex was the name you gave the merchant earlier, and Alex was the name he should be calling you by. He isn't sure where Alex came from, actually.

It doesn't matter. What does matter is what he came here for, and finding you.

Of course, right as he's about to turn back to the real reason he's here, there's a clatter of decidedly sour guitar strings. Most don't turn towards the noise, but Kaz does. And when he sees, his entire body freezes.

Because where else would you be except talking to the guitar player. And, from the looks of it, flirting with him.

"There you are." Kaz says, striding to you, feeling like yelling. "I've been looking for you."

"Sorry." You chirp, grinning brightly at him.

At that, he falters. When was the last time he saw a smile that bright, that genuine? Actually, scratch that, when had you ever apologized to him?

He leans closer, whispering in your ear, words coming out more as a snarl than anything else. "What are you doing, Assassin?"

"Me?" You ask, looking genuinely surprised. "I'm talking to the guitar player! I used to play guitar, you know, before my father broke it."

He flicks his eyes over you. Not once have you ever divulged information about your personal life, and not once did Kaz ever ask.

"You're drunk?" He asks, incredulously.

"Me? Drunk?" You gasp, stumbling.

With a lurch, he grabs your arms to stop you from hitting the floor. Even through his gloves, it sends a jolt up his spine.

"Three layers." You slur, and he realizes you’re comforting him while drunk. "Don't panic."

"How much did you drink?" He demands lowly, dragging you to a darker corner.

"Three. Maybe four."

"Three what?"

Only three drinks shouldn't have messed you up this much, not unless they were straight vodka or something ridiculous.

"I don't know."

He stares at you. It isn't like you to be so... careless.

"What do you mean you don't know?" He snaps.

"I've never drank before." Kaz's jaw goes slack. You’ve never drank before? This is your first time drinking? Ever? "Hey, anyone ever tell you your eyes are nice?"

"Shut up, I need to think." Kaz growls, drawing a hand down his face.

His eyes dart around, landing on a nearby door. Without a second thought, he shoves you in, closing the door behind you and locking it. It's a bathroom, and for that he's incredibly thankful.

"Splash yourself with water." Kaz orders, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms.

"Why?"

"To sober you up."

"Will it really?"

Kaz is starting to like you a lot more when she's sober.

You

An explosion rockets through the building, shaking the walls a little. "Woah." You laugh. It’s funny for some reason. "One of ours? Wylan's?"

"Yes." Kaz says, eyes flicking between you and the door. "Water, now."

"Why are we bombing the party?"

"Near the party." He corrects you impatiently.

There's a sudden pounding on the door, and Kaz swears under his breath violently.

"Anyone in there?! Open up!"

You lift yourself onto the bathroom counter, sitting next to the sink. You watch Kaz, his scheming face on.

"What are you doing?" He asks, still glaring at you.

"Get over here."

"What are you doing?"

"Kaz." You raise your eyebrows. "Get caught or get over here."

Kaz clenches his jaw, striding up to you. "Now what? You're drunk, we're in a bathroom."

You run your hands through your hair, messing it up. You move back further to lean against the mirror, spreading your legs.

"Hands on either side of my head."

Immediately, Kaz stiffens. "Pardon?"

"We either make it look like you're about to fuck me or we get caught."

His eyes go cold, but he leans in, placing a hand to right of your head. His left hand, though, goes to your waist.

"Three layers." He murmurs, almost to himself. "You're drunk, which means I'm yelling at you later for this."

"Please don't-" You cut yourself off with a gasp when the door slams open. You’re close. Not enough to touch Kaz, your mind isn't that foggy, but enough to certainly imply some things.

"Oh." A strange voice says. "Oh. My- my apologies, I didn't-"

"Get out." Kaz growls, turning his head away from you to glare at whoever is at the door.

The door shuts quickly with a loud "thud" noise. Both Kaz and you stay there for a moment, waiting to see if the intruder was actually gone.

"Wasn't that fun?" You say weakly.

"No." Kaz snaps, turning his head back to glare at you.

"Don't be pissed at me. I just saved our asses." You complain, meeting his eyes.

"Who said I'm pissed at you? Frustrated, certainly. I can't fault you too much for being drunk when I asked you to get a drink."

"You have a nice voice." You say honestly.

"Close your mouth before you say something you'll regret."

you stare at him for a moment, mind swirling with thoughts you can't truly sort out.

You’re suspended for another second, neither of you having moved from the quite intimate position. You wasn't a short person, but you were smaller than Kaz, meaning he's practically covering your body with his right now.

"Could you get off me?" You say quietly.

"You're the one who put us in this position." He responds, raising his eyebrows. "If you were uncomfortable with it, you shouldn't have done it."

Either way, he removes his hands, but doesn't step back. Your head swims, having entirely forgotten his hand was on your waist in the first place.

"No, it's because I liked it too much."

Kaz closes his eyes, rubbing his temples with gloved hands. "This is why I don't deal with drunk people."

"What, drunk people are too honest or something?"

"No. Secrets get spilled that nobody wants to hear."

"You don't want to hear my secrets?" You pout, a little upset. You must truly be nothing to him if he didn't even want your secrets to use against you.

"Why are you sad at that?" Kaz asks, and if you didn't know better you’d think he sounds incredulous.

"Because that means I mean nothing to you, which is depressing."

"Where did you get that idea?" His eyebrows furrow.

"You want everyone's secrets." You point out, still leaning against the mirror while sat on the counter. "Why not mine?"

"Trust me, I want them. I just want them out of your own free will."

Hell if you know what that means, but... "Nobody is holding a gun to my head."

"You're drunk. You have no filter."

"Correct. And? When did you care about morals?"

"I don't." He levels his cool gaze at you. "But when it comes to you... I know I wouldn't want my secrets getting out because I'm drunk."

"When it comes to me?" You echo, jumping on the lose thread in his words.

"Get off the counter."

"Explain."

An unstoppable force meets an unmovable object, what happens? A collision so grand, so huge, that everything else pales in comparison.

But they aren't unstoppable or unmovable. You are drunk, Kaz has his own problems.

So he steps back, and you slide off the counter, fixing your clothes.

"Let's go." Kaz says gruffly.

But even now, even in the dim lighting of a bathroom, even with a foggy mind that is slowly clearing, you know. Hell, you both know.

Something has changed.

#six of crows #soc #kaz brekker #crooked kingdom #grishaverse #kaz brekker x you #kaz brekker imagine #kaz brekker x reader #soc kaz #six of crows kaz

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belovedwhore · 1 year

Text

pretty boy pt 5

ethan landry x reader

warnings: smut, little bit of plot, “nipple play”, masturbation (m!receiving), dirty talk, thigh riding, lowkey sub ethan

notes: oh my god hey guys. i’m sorry i’ve been mia, it’s been a long week but i cracked this bad boy out for y’all so hopefully you enjoy it, i’m too tired to proofread so i apologize for any typos. i tried to lessen the amount of plot and get to the good stuff ;)

also i think the next part will be my last for this series because i wanna write other like pov of ethan in different scenarios so im gonna try to wrap this up. enjoy!!

pt 1 , pt 2 , pt 3 , pt 4 , pt 5, pt 6

————————————————————————

for the next couple of days you and than found anytime to hang out. whether you were skipping class or making tara and chad hang out so you could spend your time with ethan, you made it happen. every since he gave you head the last time, it’s like he can’t stop. he was quite literally pussy whipped for you, the way you moaned out as he devoured your clit, the endless praises you’d give him, calling him pretty boy, he didn’t said a chance. it got to the point where he could get himself off grinding on the bed with his head in between your legs, attacking your cunt. he’d groan when you’d slip your fingers through his curls, gripping his hair as you came closer to your unraveling.

chad had left to go the gym and afterwards he had class so he wouldn’t be back until much later. you came over shortly after he left to hang out with ethan. it wasn’t just sex, you enjoyed his company too but god the sex was good. well not “sex” by definition. you hadn’t fucked yet, and he hadn’t really complained about it. even thought you’ve been with each other in every possible way he still shyed away at the deed. he was just simply happy to be involved in any way which somehow made him even hotter.

you came over in a pair of baggy sweats and an oversized, just some stuff you pulled out of your closet, ‘easy to get out of’ pieces. you laid next to ethan on the couch as he sat watching a lecture and jotting down notes. he was wearing some athletic shorts and a tshirt with a random logo on it. you guys may or may not have skipped some classes to be able to hang out with each other without the rest of your friends in close proximity. and may or may not be required to watch these online lectures for review.

“do we reallyyy need to watch this ethan, i’m bored,” you whined kissing up his neck. you couldn’t care less about biology 101. i mean who gives a fuck.

“we missed class, we have to do this,” he replied shifting in his seat as you still trailed kisses over his chest. he struggled to focus on the video when he felt your lips on his skin. he loved kissing, his biggest turn on you learned. he’d always kiss you whether you just came on his tongue or swallowed a load of his. he was addicted to your lips. and the way he looked after a long kiss, lips soft and plump waiting for more. he was struggling to resist you now, eyes fluttering shut.

“i mean technically only one of us needs to be paying attention,” you whispered into her ear. you nibbled his earlobe playfully as you continued to tease him. you could see he processing what you said.

“you’re not w-wrong,” he faltered as your hands traveled under his shirt over the ridges on his stomach, “but i can’t focus when you’re kissing me and touching me.”

“ok, then i won’t,” you shrugged sitting back into your spot.

he quietly groaned at the absence of your lips and touch on his skin, “the thing’s almost over, then i’m all yours.” he leaned over and kissed you softly, lips molding together as he slipped his tongue inside your mouth lightly before pulling away. he hadn’t even realized this just spurred you on modern but he’d readjusted timely, refocusing on the video before him. you sighed loudly next to him, slightly exaggerating to draw his attention. he wouldn’t budge though, smiling in your direction, still working on you guys’ notes.

“i’ll be right back,” you quipped before hopping off the couch to head to the bathroom. you couldn’t watch this boring ass lecture any longer and you couldn’t stop thinking about ethan. you eventually decided to take matters into your own hands. before leaving the bathroom you took off your sweatpants, revealing your black panties that hugged your waist under your shirt. you walked back into the room, noticing his eyes on you from the second you walked in.

“where um where are your pants,” he asked dumbfounded. you’d broken his focus from your assignment.

“it’s a little warm in here,” you shrugged sitting down right next to him swinging one of your legs over his own, spreading then so lightly to expose your clothed core. he glanced down quickly before looking up again clenching his jaw.

you reached between your legs, circling your clothed clit. you let out a sharp breath as you brushed the bundle of nerves. you reached to palm one of your tits over your shirt, kneading the mound. the stimulation was enough for you to let out another gasp as you played with your nipple. your shirt tickled your hardened nipples sending shocks to your core. you breath grew heavier as you sped up your fingers on your clit, closing your eyes as you felt your panties grow wet with your arousal.

ethan couldn’t take it any longer, he let out a huff, “fuck.” shutting off the tv and tossing the remote somewhere in the room he embraced you quickly. he kissed you roughly, holding your face to his forcing his tongue into your mouth. he’d almost sucked all the breath out of you. you climbed over his lap, pressing your wet center onto his growing erection. he bucked his hips as you grinded on him, kissing his neck softly. he could feel your arousal through your panties. you felt his hands creep up your legs, groping your ass under your shirt. they soon moved to your thighs, and closer to your center until you stopped him.

“no, you had your chance and you wanted me to wait,” you said after pulling away from the kiss, “remember only one of us has to be focused.” you shifted your position so you were now only straddling one of his legs, his bare thigh directly under your mound.

“cmon you know we have to catch up on this class, i’m ready now,” he pleaded, looking down between the two of you at your cunt glistening with arousal. you pulled your top over your head exposing your bare chest to him. your hardened nipples poked out massively, erect from the stimulation. you brought his hands to your chest and he kneaded your boobs, capturing your nipple in his mouth. he nibbles on the bud, soothing the pain with licks over the mound.

“so i’m gonna focus on me,” you whispered into his ear as you lowered yourself onto his thigh, gasping at the feeling of your clit on his sculpted thigh, “a-and you can watch, but no touching.” you moved his hands away from your chest and placed them by his side. he looked at you in awe as you started to move back and forth on his thigh, your arousal slicking his skin. you played with your clit as you rocked your hips on his leg, feeling the pressure build in your core.

honestly ethan may have been enjoying this more than you, his breath hiked with your own. the feeling of your cunt on his thigh made him rock hard. when he flexed you could feel his muscle massaging you core, causing you to whine out and move faster. his eyes were trained on your cunt moving back and forth, breathing heavy. you wanted more from him, needed more.

“l-look at me,” you cooed, he looked at you, watching as your eyes screwed shut at the feeling of his bare skin between your folds, “you know what i want you to do.”

“touch yourself,” you said, “i wanna see you fuck your hand, and i want you to think about me.”

you kissed him harshly, biting his lip as you pulled away and rested your forehead against, “can you do that pretty boy?” he nodded as he pulled his cock out of his boxers and began to pump his length. his tip had already been oozing precum as it glistened under his touch. you spat between the two of you, your saliva falling onto his cock, lubricating it as he pumped faster, tightening his grip around his length. you followed his rhythm. as he fucked his length faster, you rode his thigh harder, coming closer and closer to your orgasm.

“what does it feel like baby,” you asked breathlessly while you relentlessly fucked yourself on his leg.

“tight,” he groaned, looking down at your cunt gliding across his thigh, “and wet.” he whimpered as he jerked on his cock harder. “y-you wanna know how you feels,” you moaned, “hard.” he groaned as you described your feelings to him explicitly. “feels like i’m gonna cum all over you any s-second, fuck.”

you could hear your slick on his skin, along with the noises of ethan fisting his cock and it sent you over the edge. eyes screwed shut you gasped as you released your arousal all over. you clenched around his leg, riding his thigh through your finish. rambling about how good he felt and how good he was listening to your instructions, “ethan y-you’re so good, so good for me.” you opened your eyes only to find he hadn’t finished yet, he was still jerking himself off, eyes on your cunt. you could tell he was close as his hips bucked into his fist and his breathing became sloppy.

“you know what i thought of while i came all over you,” you whispered as you wetly kissed all around his neck, “your cock inside me, big, stretching me all out.” he groaned at your words, increasing his pace even more to reach his orgasm.

his eyes were screwed shut now, focused on cumming. he hummed as you spurred him on with your dirty words, teasing and taunting him, “imagine my cunt wrapped around your pretty cock,” you spoke, “can you feel me?”

“mhmm,” he whimpered, “oh shit.” his orgasm ripped through him as he came hard into his hand and onto your stomach. he shuddered underneath you, jaw clenched as he experienced his high. he’d never felt anything like it. he felt weak, breathing heavy as you sat smiling at him, looking at the mess the two of you made. you kissed him softly, tangling your fingers in curly hair.

“can’t wait until you fuck me pretty boy,” you giggled into his ear. when you pulled away ethan was bright red, still shy of your bluntness. regaining his composure he realized, “we’re uh- we’re gonna need to clean up before chad gets back.”

“ok, but chad won’t be back anytime soon,” you bet, “it hasn’t been that long.”

seconds later you heard three knocks on the door.

“ethan, i forgot my keys again can you let me in?,” chad yelled.

“oh i guess it has been that long,”

“oh shit”

#scream fanfic #ethan landry #smut #ghostface #scream #ethan landry smut #ethan landry x reader #scream 6 #no plot whatsoever

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rxmqnova · 7 months

Text

My little troublemaker

Y/N: 4 years old Lizzie: 19 years old ——————————————————

LIZZIE'S POV Having a little todler running around the house is not easy. Especially when you're only 19 and you're raising your child alone. The judging looks by other people when Y/N calls me 'mom' in the store or just somewhere in public aren't helping at all, but I wouldn't change a thing in my life.

Y/N wasn't planned at all. Her father left me right after I told him I want to keep her. He was quite rude about it which only made things so much harder, but I'm trying my best to give her as much love as I can. I know for sure she'll ask me the question about her dad in the future, but for now I'm trying my best to make up for both parents and to make sure she has everything she needs.

I do have an amazing family though. My parents and siblings are helping me as much as they can which I'll be forever grateful for. Also my daughter is the most amazing little human in the world. She's pretty smart on her age and thank god she's not one of those children who throw tantrums about everything.

Y/N and I had a movie night yesterday, so I'm not even surprised when I find myself surrounded by a bunch of blankets and Y/N's teddy bears after waking up. My eyes widen when I don't find my daughter underneath the blankets or anywhere in the room though. She's usually the one who wakes me up by laying her small body on mine and squishing my cheeks with her tiny hands.

"Y/N?" I look around the room once again, not seeing her anywhere. I immediately rush down the stairs to find her. "Oh my god, Y/N!" I raise my voice when I see her standing on a chair in the kitchen, a knife in her hand. I quickly lift her up, immediately taking the knife from her hand. "Honey, you could have hurt yourself. You can't use a knife without me knowing" I sigh, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Are you okay?"

"But I wanted to make you breakfast" She pouts, crossing her arms.

"Oh did you?" I raise an eyebrow which makes her giggle. Y/N nods with a smile, pointing at a piece of bread which is placed on the kitchen counter. "That's for me?"

"Yes, mama! You have to try!" She grins, happily kicking her legs.

"Thank you, sweetheart. I will try it out right now" I take the bread and sit down on a chair with Y/N on my lap. I take a bite, trying hard to pretend like it's really good. I don't know what's in this, but it really doesn't taste good.

"Do you like it?" Y/N asks with a huge smile, watching me carefully.

"It's really good, sweetheart. Thank you. It's so good that I'm gonna save it for later" I smile at her, Y/N nodding her head and smiling at me in response. "But what would you say on some pancakes now, hm?" I boop her nose which never fails and always makes her smile.

"Yay!" Y/N cheers, throwing her arms in the air.

———————————

"Mommy? Do I have a dad?" Y/N asks quietly, watching me with her big green eyes. I just tucked her in for bed and I definitely wasn't expecting this question tonight.

"I. Hm… You do have a dad, sweetheart. Why are you asking?" I give her a smile and brush a strand of hair behind her ear. She needs to know she can ask me or speak to me about everything.

"Because the boys from my preschool say it's weird to only have a mommy" She explains, adding a dramatic sigh to the end.

"It's not weird at all, honey. A lot of children have only a mommy or only a daddy. Sometimes it just happens, but it doesn't mean it's weird" I tell her, stroking her cheek with my finger.

"But why, mommy? Why isn't he here with us?" She asks, wrapping her little arms around my neck. I take a deep breath, thinking about what to tell her. But I think it'll be better to just tell her the truth somehow, even though it's not really nice.

"You know, baby… Your dad was very mean to mommy, so she decided she's better without him" I tell her honestly, pressing a kiss to her forehead.

"I don't like him then. You are the bestest and nicest mommy in the world" Y/N pouts, making me wonder how did I get so lucky to have her as my daughter.

"I love you the most, my little monkey" I smile, pushing back my tears. Y/N's words really got me. "It's getting late now though and you need to get some sleep, so we can play all day tomorrow" I rub the tip of my nose against hers, making her smile.

"I love you, mama" She says, pouting her lips for a kiss. I peck her lips with a kiss before pulling up the covers to her chest. "Mommy, my teddy bear!" She suddenly gasps, looking around the bed to find her favorite teddy.

"I'll bring him. Stay here and don't move" I warn before standing up and walking to find Y/N's favorite teddy.

I make my way to the living room and as I expected, she left him there, so now I'm on my way back to the bedroom.

"I found him, baby. You left him in the-" I start, cutting myself off when I see Y/N sitting on the table in front of the window, her face and hands pressed against the glass. "Y/N, that's really dangerous. How did you get there?" I sigh, immediately lifting her up on which she whines.

"But there was a butterfly, mama" She pouts.

"A butterfly? Now? At night?" I raise an eyebrow on which Y/N nods. "That was probably a moth, sweetheart. But no climbing on the table when mama isn't with you, okay?"

"Yes, mama" Y/N says with that cute pout again.

"It's really time for bed now, my little troublemaker"

----------------------

Elizabeth Olsen masterlist

Masterlist

#elizabeth olsen #fanfiction #elizabeth olsen daughter #lizzie olsen #lizzie olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen x y/n

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obsessedwithtoomanythings · 10 months

Text

The Terrifying Ordeal of Falling in Love with Leon Kennedy

CHAPTER 1

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader (female reader)

Series Warnings: Minor injuries, Leon teases reader a lot, Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Drinking, Drinking followed by driving, DO NOT DO THAT THIS IS FICTION, Anxiety, Leon S. Kennedy has PTSD, Leon has an anxiety attack, Anxiety Attacks, Swearing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Nightmares, Leon S. Kennedy has Nightmares, Cuddling & Snuggling, Probably incorrect medical talk, Strangulation in one tiny little scene, Reader's brother was a cop who was KIA, Slow Burn, Slow Build, Grief/Mourning, Christmas Fluff, Mistletoe, Fluff and Smut, Eventual Smut, Arguing, Love Confessions, Looking for Alaska is mentioned, Inconvenient Love Confessions, Penis In Vagina Sex, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Oral Sex, Cunnilingus, Leon loves eating Pussy change my mind, Shower Makeout, romantic smut, Desperate Leon S. Kennedy, They are both desperate for each other tbh, They say I love you as they come, Scar Kissing, Enthusiastic Consent, Always pee after sex, UTI PREVENTION, POV First Person, No use of Y/N

Words: 1.6K

A/N: Alright, this took MONTHS. Big thanks for @chaosandbubbles for always validating my writing.

Masterlist

January 2004

Walls of insincerity, shifting eyes and vacancy

Vanished when I saw your face

All I can say is, it was enchanting to meet you

-Enchanted, Taylor Swift

“Hey hon, want you to take this one,” Dr. Dalton says, a hint of pride in his voice as he pokes his spikey ginger hair in through our shared office space. I glance up, confused for a minute and he chuckles at the sight, coming into the room leisurely, his stride confident and collected. The clipboard is clasped between his fingers as he offers it to me with a smile. “I want to see how you do without me looming over your shoulder and breathing down your neck.” I feel my eyes practically bulge out of my head. “Relax. The guy’s in here pretty regularly, he’s decent. He won’t bite,” he adds, pushing it into my shaking hands as I stand. He tacks in a barely audible “Probably.”

“A-Are you sure?” I mumble, words practically being choked out.

“Trust me. You’re ready.” His hand lands on my shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Besides, if he starts convulsing or salivating at the mouth, I’ll be right in here.” I breathe a deep sigh, attempting to bury the anxiety that swirls through my mind by retying my hair into its almost-too-tight ponytail. Spinning on my heel, I walk into the sterile white room. Why they don’t paint these rooms to be more inviting, I will never understand.

The lavender diffuser does little to cover the overwhelming scent of antiseptic and bleach, my nose scrunching unconsciously as I glance down at the clipboard in my hands, which are still trembling.

“Glad I’m not the only one who hates the way it smells in here.” The voice that speaks is deeper, and I jump a little at the suddenness of the unexpected sound. Finding the source is easy, and my stomach flips when I see him sitting in the blue plastic chair.

Dark tee shirt clinging to defined muscles, the fabric stretching to accommodate the flex as his arms are crossed across a broad chest, black pants a little less tight but still leaving no question of his strength and stature. His legs are outstretched in front of him, crossed at the ankles leisurely. His stringy blonde hair is curtaining over his cheekbone, not quite covering the obvious blue of his eyes. The lingering sensation of those eyes trained on me makes me feel exposed, like a bug preparing for dissection, but I shake the feeling off.

“You’d think I’d be used to it by now, but I can’t seem to get over it,” I say, glancing down at the clipboard once again, just long enough to get his name. “Do you wanna come sit over on the exam table so I can get a good look at you, Agent Kennedy?” I ask, watching as his eyebrows raise with a small smirk appearing on his lips. I quickly tumble over more words. “I mean, a good look at your injuries, not you specifically. I mean, not that you’re not…” I take a shaky breath before laughing slightly at myself. “I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead.” He chuckles to himself, almost silently, like he was trying to conceal it before standing and following me to the table. The clipboard hits the table with a crisp clang before I turn to the agent now seated on a slightly softer plastic and crinkly paper.

“I hate being in here, but Hunnigan insisted on it this time,” he explains, fingers clasped together, resting in his lap. It’s hard not to notice the way his eyes dart around the room at the smallest sounds; Dalton stapling something in the office, the ding of the elevator, even the wheels of some kind of cart out in the hallway causes his muscles to tense almost painfully.

“Any reason why?” I ask, grabbing two blue nitrile gloves from the box labeled with a tiny little ‘S’ while trying to keep my eyes on him. He shrugs.

“My right shoulder took a hit, and I think a couple of my ribs are broken.” It’s a start. I move toward him, moving slowly enough that he is able to predict my motions. No need to put him more on edge than he clearly already is.

“Can I have you remove your shirt so I can take a look at the shoulder?” I ask innocently. “I can turn aro-” I practically choke on the rest of the words as his arms cross over his chest before gripping the hem of the fabric and easily removing it. He sets it down next to his thigh on the makeshift bed. A light chuckle pierces my ears and I look away from the black and blue patches of bruises that are smattered across his ribcage.

“You’re looking like you’ve never seen a guy without his shirt on.” The tone of his voice is cocky, pride wafting off of him in waves. Or maybe that’s the sweat.

“That’s not why I was surprised,” I admit, walking over to remove an ice pack from the freezer before tossing it to him, which he catches easily. “Press that to your ribs, please, Agent Kennedy.” It has a ‘please’ tacked on, but the man can clearly tell that it wasn’t a request. He listens, hissing at the chill on his skin as I move around to look at his shoulder. Asking him to turn away from my frame, I take a small breath at finally being released from his intense gaze. The shoulder is much worse than I thought, something bloody hidden under some crude gauze pads secured with medical tape. “I’m gonna remove this gauze.” He nods, his hair bobbing slightly at the movement.

“Can I ask what did this?” I question, tenderly attempting to peel the gauze off with as little pain as possible, but the skin has taken to sticking to it cause of the dried blood. I feel him tense slightly at the sensation.

“That’s… classified.” Mumbled words barely audible. I nod in understanding, despite knowing he can’t actually see it. I drop the piss-poor patch job onto the table, frustration rising. There is a gash the size of my forearm sunken into the light skin there. “Did they disinfect this?” He shrugs noncommittally with his left shoulder. I sigh, irritated at his lack of communication. This is his body. Why does it seem like he’d rather be anywhere else?

“I’ve never seen you in here. Are you new?” He asks, making small talk to fill the blatantly uncomfortable silence.

“Yeah, just started a few weeks ago. Dr. Dalton wanted me to take care of this on my own,” I explain and then, giving him fair warning before I gently pour some disinfectant on the wound. Another hiss. A mumbled apology.

“Ah, so I’m your first victim?” He asks with a smile, his head cocking to the side to make brief eye contact. A poor attempt at an evil laugh leaves my lips in response, cheeks dusting pink at the smile I receive.

“Yes. How does it feel, knowing your name will live in infamy once I’m caught?” I ask, a teasing lithe in my tone. He scoffs, but I can still see the small smile he wears.

“Just make it quick, yeah? I won’t even plead for my life.” The words are meant to be a joke, and deep down, I know that. But the way he says it? It’s almost like he actually wants that. I give my head a slight shake to clear the thought as I tenderly place a softer gauze over the gash before securing it, the wrapping going over the top of his shoulder and under his armpit a few times. I pat his shoulder gently before walking around in front of him again, his eyes finding mine quickly.

“I have good news, Agent. You’ll make it.”

“Yeah? Not gonna keel over?” He asks, gesturing to his shirt. I nod, signaling to him that he is free to put it back on.

“Nope.” I pause, mind running with the desire to help. If he’ll let me. “Can I ask you something?” His gaze returns to me after tugging the fabric back down, watching as it settles comfortably over his form.

“Sure.”

“Do you wanna talk to Dr. Dalton about any kind of therapy or medication? I couldn’t help but notice how on edge-”

“It’s cause I just got back. The overactive perception fades after a bit. I’m fine.” The softness of his eyes has faded, turning into a brick wall. Or a dam, to hold it all in.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to overstep. I was just trying to he-”

“Am I good to go?” The tone in his voice has shifted, cold and distant, all sources of the smiles I saw earlier gone. I nod mutely, handing him a form and a pen to sign the paper with. Then the pen scratches across the paper roughly before he hands it back, and I’m finding it impossible to meet his eyes, despite his earlier behavior of not looking anywhere but at me. He walks toward the exit, and I can hear his boots thudding against the tiled floor.

“You did good.” I turn quickly toward the door at hearing his voice again.

“Sorry?” My voice is quieter than intended, almost making it sound like I’m afraid. Agent Kennedy’s head tilts, looking over his shoulder, no smile, just looking.

“You did a good job. You took good care of your first victim.” For a moment, and only a moment, I see a glimmer of a smirk flit across his mouth before he’s gone, the echo of his boots practically filling my ears as he makes his way down the hallway.

Leon: @house-of-kolchek @bonnibuckets @athanasia-day @muffimtv Everything: @chaosandbubbles @kassiekolchek22 @akiramoon8088

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy smut

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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 16 days

Text

Mjolnir Syndrome: A Helping Hand

My half of an art trade with @fablepatron - find the whole thing here on ao3.

The first chapter is too explicit, but here's the second chapter Roland POV.

Another night watching his crew recover. Another night of patrolling the circuits of the ship, checking and rechecking, herding dumb AI back into their functions, herding dumb humans back to their responsibilities like sleeping. Most of Roland is divided into the monotonous tasks required to run a starship of this size and to care for a crew of this many talents. However, there was a negligibly sized portion of his focus on the single operating War Games sim and one Spartan Miller.

He didn’t play favorites. (Statement: untrue.) He had a handful, maybe. (Also untrue.) But that came with the territory of being a shipboard AI. Lots of handshakes and handholding. It made sense to keep an eye on a specific few in Command. Really. Just as a way to get a read on the rest of the crew and understand the social systems in place. That was the real reason Roland was watching Miller beat himself up in the wee hours of the morning, and why his subroutines flagged more processing power to monitor the Spartan as his vitals peaked.

There’s a spark of brain activity and a rapid release of cortisol in Miller’s system. His temperature raises even further and Roland considers getting help. Nothing had changed other than the slowly ramping feedback of the Mjolnir systems. The closed system was prone to feedback loops when worn for longer periods of time without a release of charge or not maintaining proper levels with an AI syncing the NI and the various layers of the armor.

Miller hadn’t wanted his help so he was keeping his distance. Mostly.

It was strange to see the usually quick-thinking Spartan brute force his way through what was bound to be unpleasant and quite distracting sensations. Unless… he wasn’t expecting it. Did Miller not know about Mjolnir Syndrome? A fun nickname given by more season Spartans and crew in the know of the…symptoms. Is that why the sudden spike in vitals?

His favorite Spartan was easy to fluster. He’d need help soon, Roland could tell. The constant influx of sensation only built and then plateaued as Miller froze. He’d never reach overload by himself, especially if he just became aware of why h-everything was so hard.

Luckily, and with no outside input from Roland, help was on the way.

The Master Chief had noticed Miller, not for the times Miller wants to space himself over, but because like Roland, Chief found Miller interesting. Maybe it was akin to studying something and finding yourself attached, like those scientists over in xenobiology who named the new flatworms they found on Requiem. Miller was Roland’s flatworm, and he was willing to share, if it meant helping the poor Spartan out.

Chief observes Miller with a tilt of his helmet. Roland was still learning the IIs body language but he thought he was picking up amusement. The specific head tilt and slight shake of the helmet for outsider observers was one he had seen Chief use with Blue Team. But they weren’t here, it was just him and Miller and R-.

Oh. Chief was including him again. It was so strange when humans did that. Only a handful seemed to remember his presence, unless he made them. Always running in the background, ready at a moment’s notice. Well, this was interesting.

“Hello, Master Chief, fancy meeting you here.” Roland says after his ping for channel access is accepted.

“Hello, Roland. I’m assuming he’s not hurt?”

“Do you think I’d let my crew get hurt and simply let them lay there.”

“No, but I wasn’t sure if I was intruding on anything.”

That gets a pause from the AI. He’s still debating on which snarky or too-honest reply to go with when Chief checks on Miller.

"I believe Spartan Miller is experiencing some technical issues with his armor." Roland supplies. He’s helping whatever this is along. Chief’s got him thinking now, which is always a dangerous thing when you’re as fast and clever as Roland. He’d been a passive party for so long. An observer or helper, and it’s not like Miller was chomping at the bit for Roland’s help, even when his plans had been so helpful in the past.

“He’s lying to you. Not that you didn’t pick that up. He’s been active for over 24 hours. He won’t let me help.” Chief doesn’t need to know how honest Roland’s words were, or that Roland’s been watching Miller push himself for 36.3 hours now.

“Have you tried asking nicely?” Chief asks and Roland wishes he had a plinth nearby to deploy his avatar on for the sole purpose of squinting at the Master Chief. He stays silent.

Chief asks and Miller says yes.

Roland wasn’t jealous. No, he was something else. Some higher AI experience rather than some silly, illogical, human emotion. Miller would let Master Chief touch his armor and help him, but not Roland who’s always there and who knows the specs forwards and back and is so familiar with piggybacking off Gen 2 Mjolnir systems.

Miller’s fine being all sweaty and nervous and frustrated around Chief. Chief who is so frustrating and calm and never rises to Roland’s bait. Chief who’s asking for Roland’s help overriding the safety features on Miller’s armor?

The great thing about being a vast machine intelligence with unfortunate connections to human emotions is the ability to experience time differently and to save threads of oneself being petty to feel petty later. He’d put this behind him for now to help them out - help Miller out.

What’s a little power reallocation between friends?

#my writing #Spartan Miller #Roland the AI #John 117 #there will be a quiz on the layers of mjolnir later for those following along at home #halo fanfic

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hwnglx · 1 year

Note

Can you do Jungkook’s ideal type? Thanks in advance 😊

jungkook's ideal type based on tarot, take it with a grain of salt

physical traits queofp, magic, moon

very feminine. naturally and effortlessly beautiful. healthy and luscious hair. moves very elegantly. grabs everyone's attention and leaves a strong impression. striking but mysterious aura. someone you could watch for hours without getting tired of it.

personality traits kingofsw, pageofc, aceofc, 2ofc, 10ofw+4ofp

wow. a lot of cups. safe to say, jungkook definitely likes his partners emotional. but, the king of swords coming before all the cups tells me he still wants his lover to have a strong and solid character. he likes the type of person who's very sweet and loves very deeply, but also knows when to turn off the emotions and be rational.

honestly, the biggest vibe i get is that he just wants someone who truly loves him. doesn't love his money, doesn't love his clout, doesn't love his name. but him as a soul. he gets a lot of praise and appreciation by the public, but after a while, that can get fulfilling to a certain point only. he needs a person who can make him feel loved for his raw self, without all the celebrity. i can tell, he really wants a deep emotional connection to his partner. i think he gets lonely more often than people realize.

i also believe he needs his partners to be very mature and have thick skin, because of all the difficulties a relationship with jungkook can come with. he wants someone who can carry all the weight of that, but still remain devoted to him. someone who won't get overwhelmed by the burden of his fame and hold on to him. someone who's very nurturing, openly affectionate and loving with him, but powerful, sophisticated and polite in front of others.

“i wanna love me the way that you love me for all of my pretty and all of my ugly too”

him as a boyfriend 9ofc, 7ofsw, 2ofsw, 6ofc, hieroph

+ jungkook is a libra venus, which makes him extremely romantic and charming. he'll probably have a lot of candlelit dinner dates in beautiful and upscale restaurants and constantly gift you the most beautiful bouqets of flowers, chocolates or jewelry. i always get the feeling he wants to shower his loved one with so many nice things, not just in a material and financial manner but also emotionally. he wants his partner to know how lucky he feels to be with them. libra venus people also really value intimate and alone time with their lovers. jungkook will pay a lot of attention to what you have to say and make you feel listened to, and understood. he's the type of person who comes alive in the reflective eyes of his loved ones. so he'll put a lot of importance into your opinion and really care about your words. romance really comes easy and naturally to him. he feels like he is being his best self when he's in love. - he can quickly close himself off when he gets overwhelmed. if he made a mistake and feels guilty, it's likely for him to just quit communicating with you for a while and turn cold. like.. you'll just be there wondering what the hell happened. libra venuses can get surprisingly manipulative and calculating, after spending days being the most charming person on the planet. they can be very passive aggressive and irritate you in that way. only once they're able to find peace within themselves, will they start opening up to you again. i think jungkook has a tendency to get frustrated with himself, especially in romantic relationships, because he wants everything to be perfect. he's a people pleaser and doesn't like doing them wrong. even moreso when it comes to his lovers.

#kpop tarot #bts tarot #jungkook tarot

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whatwouldsylwrite · 1 year

Text

hockey!Abby x dancer!reader pt6

pt 1 pt 5

It’s your turn to take Abby on a date!

Tags: modern au, fluff, fem!reader, shy reader, reader is into sexy/girly dances, Abby is a sweetheart, switching pov

Notes: Kisses, book snobbism. (I didn't mention any book names that they're criticising and the name of Abby's favourite book so you could put what you want there). The butt song - Juicy, and the lyrics Abby's thinking about are "If you could see it from the front, wait 'til you see it from the back".

Special thanks to @ohlawdthebirds for helping me out with Abby's book taste!

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

It didn't take long for Abby to start calling you her girlfriend after your first date. It just felt… natural to her. Abby didn't even notice how she said "oh, that's my girlfriend, (y/n)" when someone asked her about you, because people asked. Abby didn't mind unless the person who was asking acted like they had a chance with you or made some inappropriate comments about your body - it was one thing to say you were hot and another thing to describe what someone’d do to you if they could. Abby now thought you were a fucking saint for dealing with these assholes as peacefully as you did, because she? She wanted to strangle them with her bare hands and she would if they didn't go away fast enough. Abby was scary, and people could definitely feel her fury just by standing next to her.

Of course, when you first heard her calling you her girlfriend you went red in the face and had this cute wide smile that made Abby melt and buzz and be so soft she might as well turn into Baymax. She was worried for a second - what if she was moving too fast? It was hard to tell with you: your boundaries were palpable, but you were so sweet and responsive, so she couldn’t be sure you’d have a negative reaction. And then you smiled at her bashfully and now the word “girlfriend” was the most frequently used word in her vocabulary.

The other perk - except for obvious, you were officially hers now - was how nervous her teammates got when she was sitting with them during your practice. It was like they had a fear of God in them, watching you dance and knowing Abby was right there and Abby would definitely kick their asses if they said something wrong. It filled Abby with such joy she’d act tough with them on purpose just to see them stammering - it was so fun to mess with them.

The only person who wasn’t scared of Abby was Manny, and he’d always comment on “you got lucky, Anderson, this chick is something else”, “oh fuck me, are you telling me I can’t appreciate the beauty? The skill? Girl’s got moves”, “it’s your civic duty to keep her satisfied, Abs, she is feeding us a three-course meal”. Depending on how obnoxious Manny was, Abby would either chuckle or slap his stupid head, but she knew he was kind-hearted, so she didn’t actually fight him.

And now Abby got to walk around the university campus and steal you to make out somewhere secluded, because now she was allowed to. It wasn't like you didn't let her kiss you - quite the opposite, you silently asking for a kiss was Abby's fucking kryptonite - but now you were more relaxed around her. Abby didn’t even notice you were tense before, but now the difference between nervous you and relaxed you was striking. It was still too easy to make you blush, but now your hands slithered around her waist like they belonged there, with familiarity Abby’s heart ached for.

Abby’s anatomy class just ended when she texted you to find out where you were (‘dining hall’) and she made her way to the dining hall, because she hasn’t seen you for two days - to think of it, god both of your schedules were absolutely fucked. You’ve seen each other more often at the activity centre than on the campus - which was ridiculous. So Abby collected her things, said her goodbyes and went to the dining hall.

When Abby walked into the dining hall her only goal was to find you, while a lot of people came around to say hi and ask her questions. Usually it was nice, but right now it was irritating - all those people distracted her from her search. And then she noticed you, sitting alone at the table, reading through something on your phone - Abby knew this look on you, eyes glued to the screen, brows a little furrowed and whatever you had in front of you abandoned. Fuck you were attractive like that - it wasn’t even about your looks, it was purely about your brains.

Abby quickly grabbed some food and walked to your table, watching how close she’d need to get before you notice her. The answer was: she needed to sit at your table before you looked up at her.

“What are you doing?” Abby asked, mostly referring to the reading.

“I keep it juicy-juicy, I eat that lunch.” You answered in a flat tone, your face fully blank, as you pointed at your plate which was half-finished.

Abby couldn’t contain her snort - you had no business to be funny, but fuck, you saying lyrics to Doja Cat in flat voice? Ridiculous.

“I meant, what are you reading?”

“My prof’s notes on my paper.” You scrunched your nose. “She is right, mostly, but I’ve never felt more academically inferior.”

Abby laughed and you both sprang into conversation, discussing everything and nothing at the same time, just catching up for those two days - sometimes you both were so busy you couldn’t even text each other regularly, so now Abby’s hands itched. She knew she was staring at you - who wouldn’t, you were so pretty - but she couldn’t help herself. Abby listened to you, absorbing your voice like a sponge while you both ate, but she needed something else.

“Do you have free time now?”

“Around half an hour.” You said after you checked the time. “What’s up?”

“Gonna steal you.” Abby said and watched with joy how your cheeks became pink.

You both finished your lunch and left the dining hall. The weather was nice today, though a little cold, so Abby took her jacket off and put it on your shoulders, rejoicing in her own possessiveness of you - it was her jacket on you, not someone else’s. Especially stupid jerks from your classes. And you wrapped it around yourself with a small smile that did something to Abby’s insides - in these moments she felt like she could conquer the whole fucking world.

Abby spotted the big wide tree that could give you privacy and led you to it, not even trying to be subtle - she needed to put her hands on you.

"I feel like I'm a teenager again." You laughed as Abby tugged to the tree.

"And how often did you get caught kissing girls during breaks?"

Abby tried to be polite and waited until you leaned against the tree, helping her play this little game where you talk and stand conveniently close to pretend it was a normal social situation.

"What do you think?" You asked, coy. Abby chuckled and moved close enough to put her hand on your neck.

"I think you're too smart to get caught." Abby whispered in your lips before she kissed you.

It was Abby's favourite part: feeling how you relaxed against her, hugging her waist and ever so slightly pressing her closer, as if she'd stop you. So Abby doubled down and pressed you against the tree hard enough so your bodies would be flush against each other, but not hard enough so your back would hurt from the tree bark. You sighed into her mouth and she deepened the kiss, her tongue slowly playing with your tongue, sharing the taste of the strawberry candy you ate during lunch.

Abby moved her hand under your shirt, stroking your side with her thumb as you shuddered and your knees grew weak - her touch to your bare skin lit you up like a Christmas tree. Abby squeezed your side and pulled you closer, marvelling at how soft you were, how gentle your fingers were on her jaw as you kissed her back with enthusiasm.

"I've missed you." You whispered in Abby's mouth and something warm filled her chest.

"Me too, doll." Abby kissed your jaw, her mouth slowly moving down your neck. "Tell me if this is not okay."

"Why wouldn't it be?" You said shortly to hide your quiet moan.

Abby didn't say anything and kept kissing your neck, nibbling at your skin as she moved down to your collarbones, her hand caressing your stomach now. You couldn't move anywhere, her thigh pressing between your thighs all the way to the tree. Abby's head got filled with a picture of you just grinding on her thigh like this and she had to move away a little before she could help you, her self-control slowly going out of the window.

"Fuck." Abby sighed as your foreheads met. "Did I tell you how crazy you make me?"

You blushed a little, shy smile tugging at your lips. Abby watched you, her hand still stroking your stomach.

"Every time we end up in this situation." You chuckled. "Are you free this Saturday?"

Abby looked at you, surprised, but not sure by what: by your question or by how you looked a little bit insecure, as if Abby would reject you. She knew now it was because you didn't have a lot of experience in being forward, but it was still a little bit heartbreaking to see.

"Yeah. You wanna do something?"

"Yeah." There you go, Abby thought as you smiled, now feeling safe again.

"Are you going to tell me?" Abby asked playfully as she pinched your stomach slightly.

"Oh, I'm not telling you shit." You smiled deviously and Abby laughed. She knew not telling you anything about your first date would bite her in the ass.

"All right, then. Keep your secrets." Abby said as you giggled and pulled her in another kiss.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Abby wasn’t nervous, no. Of course she wasn’t, why would she be? It wasn’t like she didn’t like being in the dark about your plans for today. No, she was chill. She was cool. She was okay with not being in control.

Abby’s fingers were tapping a fast rhyme on the steering wheel as she waited for you to come down. At least you were merciful enough to tell Abby what would be appropriate to wear (“casual”) so Abby put on her favourite pair of jeans, her sleeveless shirt and a jacket. She was hoping she was dressed appropriately - it was very unlikely that you'd have clothes her size, unless you had a secret stack of oversize clothes she didn't know of.

Now Abby began to understand why you asked her so many questions, but just as you trusted her, Abby decided to trust you back - that was the fun of it, surprising your girl with something she'd like. You were definitely not taking her to do any sports activities, so she'd be fine.

Abby looked over the door to your apartment complex and once again she stopped breathing as she watched you come closer: you and your little outfits always left her speechless. She noticed in surprise that this was the first time she saw you in jeans and she was scared for herself when she'd see the back of those jeans. The fucking Doja Cat with her fucking butt song, Abby thought as she left the car to greet you.

You smiled at her and leaned into the kiss right away, not shy anymore. Abby couldn't help herself and accidentally touched your butt, enjoying how dense and hard it was because of the denim. She didn't know if you'd noticed, but you didn't say anything so she didn't say anything too.

"Are you going to tell me now where we are going?" Abby asked as you two sat in the car and she started the engine.

"I'm going to give an address where we can park and then we'll have to walk a little." You said with that naughty smile you gave Abby when you wanted to be a little shit. Cute little shit, but still.

"It's not rock climbing?" Abby asked jokingly.

"No. I'd have warned you." You said genuinely. "We can go rock climbing next time if you want."

Abby smiled, suddenly shy - she wasn't used to someone caring about her, as she usually was a carer.

The road took around twenty minutes and Abby put some music on - when you rode with her for the first time she offered you to put your music on, but you said you wanted to listen to her music and now when you both were in the car Abby'd pick something and then you both would exchange songs, turning them on through Abby's spotify. Now Abby's recommendations were fucked: the mix of her rock and classic with your rnb and kpop ("I know," you said as if you expected Abby to have some prejudice against kpop, "but they work with the best choreographers and I'm not passing up on opportunity to have a readymade tailored choreo"). But Abby didn't mind - some of the songs reminded her of your dancing anyway, and you'd dance with your hands to some of them, which was cute as fuck.

Abby parked the car when you spotted the free space - and she pretended she didn't notice you staring at her with pink cheeks as she was going in reverse with one hand on your seat. Abby knew she looked hot when she did it, and well. She did it for you anyway.

You two left the car and you immediately took Abby's hand to tug her gently as you walked her to the place.

"I hope you won't think I'm boring." You said as you two turned the corner.

"Are you going to make me look at rich people's portraits?" Abby asked with suspicion.

There was nothing more boring for her than to walk around dusty art galleries and look at dark ugly portraits. She liked nature or even good portraits, but ones that were done on black canvas with clear signs of inbreeding on their faces? No thank you.

"Well, no. But thanks for telling me before I started planning our next date." You laughed and stopped.

Abby looked at the place and now she understood why you said that. You were standing in front of the bookshop - and not the one that had a shop in each city, but this kind of bookshop that looks straight up from movies. It was two stories tall, with big windows and nice, interesting displays. It looked old, and maybe it was actually old, Abby didn't know.

"I wanted to do a book date." You admitted, getting shy. "You know, when we walk around and talk about books?"

Abby nodded, totally smitten. It was such a cute idea and it was definitely something Abby would like: geeking out about books she read while you'd geek out about books you've read?

"And there's a coffee shop on the second floor, so we can get coffee." You continued, now looking around as the nerves got the best of you.

Abby quickly squeezed your hand to make you look at her, because she would not let you get upset.

"Fuck, (y/n). I'm going to talk your ear off." Abby chuckled and watched how your face lit up.

"You like it?"

"Are you kidding me? Of course." Abby leaned down and pressed a kiss to your cheek.

You wiggled a little in anticipation and you two went inside the shop. There were not a lot of people and it was pleasantly quiet. The first display was "most popular" and you two got stuck there immediately.

Abby looked through the manga, sci-pop and modern novels, not really impressed with people's taste.

"Have you read this?" You pointed at one of the books and Abby shook her head. She did recognize the book from her booktok recommendations, but it didn't catch her interest. "Good for you, because this? This is a crime against literature."

Abby suddenly felt relieved: she wasn't sure if you'd be as snobby as she was with your books. Abby knew already you had different taste in literature, and somewhere in her mind Abby was scared you'd read something she'd absolutely hate.

"Why?"

"The language of this thing is just abominable. I swear to god the author doesn't know about different sentence lengths. Or it could've been done for a reason, but I definitely failed to find it." You shrugged and Abby smiled at you.

You moved on from the "popular now" display pretty fast, and you walked through the next shelves without much pause: they were maps and cultural guides you both didn't have any interest in. Next shelves were poetry and you tugged Abby to them, showing her your favourites. Abby in return pointed at authors she couldn't understand for the life of her ("I'd need a vocabulary to understand half of it") and you giggled. Then Abby spotted a collection of ancient Greek tragedies and her nerd brain activated as she retold some of them to you in modern terms while you laughed your face off.

"Medea invented female rage." Abby said it like she had on good authority, nodding seriously and you giggled.

"You make ancient literature sound fun, Abby." You said as you curled to her side, your hand in her hand.

Abby melted from your warmth and kissed your temple. Then she continued her geeking out by telling how ancient Greek theatre worked and you listened with big curious eyes and Abby blushed a little from such undivided attention from you.

Then you moved on to classic prose and discussed which books you had to read in school, which ones you hated and which ones made you cry. ("Les Misérables?" "Les Miserables") Abby loved Hugo just as much as you did - but she was the type of person to read through 20 pages of description of Notre Dame and then find out if it was accurate (but she cried about Esmeralda's fate anyway). You showed her some books you absolutely despised in school but liked them when you reread it a few years later.

You politely ignored the shelves with modern detectives and action and moved on to fantasy. You both found out your love for books started with children's fantasy, even though you've read different series - and you gushed to each other about your childhood favourites.

“You think you need a vocabulary for poetry? Try reading this without any prior knowledge.” You pointed at the part of the shelf where Tolkien’s books were placed.

“There’s actually editions with annotations.” Abby shared with you as she touched some of the books, just admiring them. “I have that edition of The Hobbit, if you want to.”

“Oh. That’d be cool.” You nodded and Abby chuckled.

Eventually you got stuck between non-fiction shelves, discussing which books you liked and which books were..not that good. Abby’s snobby side got a chance to shine when you were going through self-improvement books - she hated them. (I mean, what kind of adult can’t figure out time management? It’s like people forgot what university was like). You didn’t agree with her there (yeah, but you have a schedule that is made for you, and then suddenly you're a full on adult with zero skill in planning your time. I think it’s nice that people can at least try to learn this skill). It was a small disagreement but for Abby it was significant - the way you two had different opinions and it wasn’t a problem, but an opportunity to learn. She suddenly hoped that every disagreement you two would have in the future would be just as this one - an honest desire to understand each other.

Abby didn’t notice how long you were in the bookshop - it felt like 15 minutes when in reality it took you almost 2 hours to get through everything and talk about it. At one point when Abby was geeking out about some cool history books, you shyly leaned in to her and asked for a book recommendation and Abby just. Stopped functioning, her brain going into overdrive - you asked her for a book recommendation. For a second Abby just stood there, but then she grinned and went to find her favourite with your hand in hers.

Abby gave you the book and waited for your reaction - what if you read it already? What if you read it and didn’t like it?

“It’s actually on my reading list.” You said, delighted. “Thank you, Abby.” You leaned in and left a kiss on her cheek, while she smiled bashfully. “Wanna grab some coffee?”

“Yeah.”

You bought the book after you managed to convince Abby you’d pay for it, not her - and she was standing next to you trying not to pout. Abby wanted to take care of you, doesn’t mean in which way - actually, in all ways - but she shouldn't control you. So she stopped arguing about who will pay for the book and let you handle it.

You went to get your coffee - surprisingly, the coffee shop had more people in it than the whole book shop - and sat by the window, watching the sun go down. Abby watched how golden light hit your face, making you look downright unreal: all soft and relaxed and pretty, so damn pretty. She couldn’t look away from your eyes that changed colour under the light as you looked somewhere far away, just enjoying the company and the place. You’ve noticed Abby’s stare and blushed, confused.

“Is there something on my face?”

“Except pure unadulterated beauty? No, nothing.” Abby grinned as you giggled, your face fully red now.

You put your hand across the table and Abby took it, intertwining your fingers together as she stroked your palm with her thumb.

“Sometimes I think you say such things just to make me blush.” You said playfully and Abby laughed.

“I’m still telling the truth.” Abby shrugged.

You laughed and looked at Abby like you wanted to remember every little detail of her face, absorbing her. How the existence of one person can change your life, you thought, because Abby changed your life not just for the better, but for the best.

#abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson #abby tlou #hockey!abby

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