#but in that gray way where you almost don’t even know it’s happening to you | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lordprettyflackotara · 5 months

Text

Till Dawn || Eyeless Jack || part two

SMUT 18+, tw: unrealistic demon sex (sorry not sorry, MASSIVE breeding kink, mentions of eating organs (duh, it’s ej), some blood but nothing too crazy, size kink, all the things you’d expect from a fic with ej tbh

part three is here

EJ avoided you like you had the black plague.

It’s not because he wanted to, not by any means.

In a perfect world he would be tangled in your bed sheets right now, not standing in his bedroom at the mansion.

One hand was keeping him steady from falling over, his hair sticking to his forehead from sweat. His breathing was jagged, from trying to ignore what he knew to be happening.

He tried to avoid the overwhelming feeling, the craving.

Because EJ knew without a shade of a doubt, he was in heat.

EJ’s heats came once a year, right around the beginning of summer. The first time it happened he thought he might explode, his urges almost landing him with a knife in his hand.

(Note to self: don’t try to fuck Jane).

The second summer he as more adjusted, the third even more so. He had grown accustomed of what was going to happen, to the extent where the members of mansion set up precautions for him.

Typically he would stock up on food, then lock himself into his medical lab as if he were a rabid dog.

The slightest movement or sound could make him go feral, the demon unable to control himself.

Every year this had worked, his heat dying down after about maybe a month.

But this year, was different. All because of you.

In previous years he had never had a mate, nor had he truly considered getting one. He thought humans to be too fragile. Not to mention the fact he didn’t know if it was scientifically possible to procreate with one. Which was exactly what his body was screaming at him to do.

You invaded every inch of his mind, his heat refusing to subside for even five minutes to allow him some peace.

EJ knew that if he were to allow himself to enter your town, it would be game over.

That he would be buried inside of you in mere minutes, not caring where you were. If everyone had to see him mate with you, so fucking be it. Logically, however, EJ knew these thoughts were absurd and insane. If he was going to ever see you again, he could not allow himself to see you during his heat.

Yet, he knew where you lived. He knew your schedule like the back of his hand. When you’d be at work, when you’d be at the gym, when you’d be home. In bed. Curled up into an adorable, fuckable ball. The thought sent a shiver down his spine.

A knock on the laboratory door snapped him out of his thoughts, the demon trudging towards the door. He unlocked it, staring down at his fellow resident, Jeff the killer. “Hey fuckface, Ben told me you were running low on food. Consider this a favor,” He said dryly. He held up a brown paper bag, oozing with blood and other unidentified bodily liquids. With one sniff EJ knew that inside of the bag was a heart. Not his favorite, but it’d do.

EJ lifted his arm slowly to grab it from him, muttering a thank you. He acted as if he were afraid to hurt Jeff, unsure of what he would do if the two interacted any way out of the ordinary. “Fuck dude, you don’t look good,” Jeff commented. Jacks hand flew to his face, realizing his mask had been discarded during one of his meltdowns. Out of instinct Jack bared his teeth, a low growl rumbling in his throat. His pale roommate raised his hands, signaling he didn’t mean harm.

“Not trying to get your panties in a wad, you just look worse for some reason this year,” Jeff explained. Truthfully his dark gray skin did look paler, his hair ruffled and sticking to his forehead from sweat. The last person on the face of this planet Jack wanted to admitted this to stood right in front of him. “There’s a girl,” Jack managed to huff out, his voice several octaves deeper then normal.

Jeff’s permanent smile curled even further upwards, producing a genuine one. “Well i’ll be damned, my Jacky boy has finally found a woman. Did you lose your v card yet?” Jeff asked. EJ would’ve rolled his eyes if he had them.

“Jeff.”

“Okay okay alright, well you’re in heat right? Why don’t you go see her?” The pale killer questioned. Millions of scenarios ran through EJ’s head, almost all of them ending with your organs in his hands. It wasn’t just breaking you that he was afraid of, but it was the unavoidable hunger that washed over him after fulfilling his filthy desires. “Human,” EJ managed to choke out, his mouth running dry. The word was something that his fellow residents cringed at, Jeff’s eyes going wide.

“Demon boy is entangled with a human? I must be in the twilight zone,” Jeff muttered. Out of all of the residents in the mansion, Jack was the most likely to break a humans bone by mistake. His strength was incomprehensible, EJ unaware of how harsh his touch could be. Jeff eyed his roommate carefully, evaluating his condition. He usually didn’t care to get involved in Jacks life, the demon preferring to live solo.

Yet, it was disheartening even for him to see EJ like this.

“Look there’s no point in wallowing in misery. There’s no guarantee you’d kill her,” Jeff said. His attempt to comfort EJ was poor, one that made Jack furrow his eyebrows. “Your heat is going to be fucking miserable if you don’t at least try dude, don’t be a pussy,” He stated bluntly. EJ furrowed his eyebrows, before nodding. He had to know. Could he control himself? Would you have him?

He could do it. He could find the will to focus on the lust and not the hunger. He could do it. For you.

EJ huffed in response, grabbing his shirt from a nearby dresser. Jeff put a hand up, stopping the demon in his tracks.

“Dude, take a shower.”

Jack couldn’t get to you fast enough. He took several shortcuts to your house, even venturing as far as to run across several popular roads. He had to see you, to feel you. His body was engulfed in open flames, yours being the only way tame the fire. By the time he got to your house he was out of breath, unsure of how to approach you.

Faintly he could hear your heartbeat, the noise alone making him swallow. He had eaten the gift Jeff had given him before he left, ensuring to scrub every last bit of his mouth with a toothbrush once he was done. But the hunger that haunted EJ needed more than just an organ to be satisfied. Questions circled his mind, unsure of how to approach you. Should he knock on the door? Break in?

His gaze landed on the tree he had previously climbed, the large branch still conveniently in front of your window. Jack decided on the old fashioned way, climbing up the old oak tree. He got an odd sense of deja vu, warmth spreading through out his body at the sight of you. You were in bed, reading a book beside your nightstand lamp. You looked so peaceful, your attention completely engulfed.

EJ considered leaving, letting you continue your peaceful human life. That was, until he realized you were wearing his hoodie. Your legs were curled to the side, your chest concealed by the familiar cotton EJ wore everyday. Maybe it was for comfort? No, you missed him. You needed him. Maybe as badly as he needed you. It was in that moment he decided to be selfish, knocking on the glass.

Your eyes darted up, brightening at the sight of the demon crouching in front of your window. You tossed your book aside, running over to let him in. Your legs were bare, your soft skin exposed to him. There you stood, completely exposed to a six foot demon. And you dared to smile.

“Jack?”

EJ struggled to form any words, slipping into your room. He knew his presence alone was incredibly selfish. You were so small, his body towering over you without even trying. Your eyebrows furrowed, your head tilting to the side. “Jack? Are you okay?” You asked, your voice sounding so small. So soft. EJ couldn’t barely find it in himself to look at you, afraid of the urges that soared through his body.

“I’m in heat,” He managed to say, his voice sounding strained. You hesitantly grabbed his hand, guiding him to the bed. EJ sat down on the edge, purposefully holding his gaze to the floor. You sat down beside him, studying his intense posture. He was breathing deeply, veins poking out of his arms. “You’re… In heat? Like an animal?” You asked, seeking clarification. EJ nodded nervously, ashamed of the lewd confession.

It was as if he had never fucked you, with how embarrassed he felt.

“Okay so, what does that mean, um, exactly?”

Your words were so innocent.

He had to see your face.

He had to admire you.

From the moment he lifted his head, he was on you. In a swift motion he had pinned you to the bed, hovering over you. You smelled so fucking good, it was practically intoxicating. “I can’t control myself, I, I mean, I need-” EJ panted, struggling to find the words to explain his situation. He hadn’t needed to explain his heats to anyone in years, nevertheless a human girl. “You need to fuck something, right? And to cum?” You questioned.

Jack swallowed hard, your legs on either side of his waist. He could practically feel your core throbbing for him, his shaft growing harder in his pants. The sensation made him let out a low growl, before trying to swallow the sounds back down his throat. You had the gist of it, but he didn’t think you truly understood the danger you were in.

“I need to breed,” Jack stated, emphasizing the last word. Your small fingers curled under his mask, lifting it and tossing it aside. Your fingertips traced his jawline, the simple affection making his heart begin to race.

“So breed me then.”

Your words had sealed your fate.

His mouth was on your lips before you could process it, the tension growing hot and heavy within seconds. Jacks large hands trailed up your body, shoving your hoodie over your head. Your bare chest was exposed to him, your nipples hardening exposed to the cool night air. “No bra? You filthy bitch,” EJ grumbled. His lips strayed from yours, his body desperate for release. He tried to remember to be careful with you, to take the time to stretch you out.

He barely fit the first time, nevertheless if he didn’t take the time to do some foreplay. EJ didn’t want to hurt you, even if it meant putting himself through agony. His lips strayed to your neck, sucking harshly at the skin. He had to make a conscious effort to not bite, his teeth grazing your skin ever so slightly. He ensured to avoid any crucial arteries, just in case he cut skin. You whined under him, the smell of your arousal filling his nostrils. But as Jack inhaled, he smelled something else familiar.

“J-Jack?” You whispered, the warm feeling of blood trickling down your neck alerting you. Jack leaned back, taking in the damage. It was a thin line of blood, the crimson red paint staining your soft skin. He swallowed as he leaned back, panting. “No we can’t do this, i’m going to lose control,” He said, speaking a full sentence for the first time in weeks. Jack backed away from you, panting as his boner continued to rage on.

The smell of your arousal, fear, and blood, was enough to make EJ hump a pillow to get off. He put his hand over his face, covering his nose. “What? Jack i’m fine,” You argued. The demon shook his head no, trying to restrain himself. The blood dripped down your neck onto your collarbone, the sight alone mouthwatering. He pressed his back flat against the wall, shaking his head no. You didn’t have any idea how badly he wanted you. The fact that you didn’t only made the situation more dangerous. You placed your hand over your small cut, the wound evident that EJ wasn’t careful enough with you.

“I can handle it, just-” You began. You struggled to find the right words, to convince him to take you. To breed you right there and then. “Just clean it,” You say, unsure if you even said the right thing. EJ’s eyebrows raised curiously, his prey asking him to clean her wound. “Are you sure?” Jack said, his words almost entirely muffled by his hand. You yanked away his wrist, forcing him to fully inhale the overwhelming scent of your blood.

“What did you say?”

Jack licked his lips, tilting his head to the side.

“I said, are you sure?”

You removed your blood stained hand from your wound, nodding.

“I can take it, whatever you give me.”

Fuck.

In the blink of an eye EJ flipped positions, your back being shoved against the wall behind you. His three tongues emerging from his lips. They assaulted your neck, lapping at the wound. He refused to let any drop of your precious blood go to waste. Once he was done cleaning your neck his focus shifted to your hand, licking your palm clean.

“I forgot you had three tongues,” You admitted. Your words reminded EJ of what was happening. That you weren’t a meal, but his mate. Jack allowed himself to smile, chuckling. “Yeah? Do you remember what they feel like?” He asked curiously. Playing along, you shrugged. “I don’t think so, maybe you’ll just have to remind me,” You replied.

Jack had never sank to his knees quicker.

He ripped your panties in half, discarding the fabric across the room. He nudged your knees apart, forcing you to lean against the wall for support. You were practically dripping, the sight only fueling Jacks heat even more. “It’s taking everything in me to take my time with you, little human,” Jack panted. He brought himself to your cunt, his three tongues finally making a grand appearance. Two of them decided to enter you, your walls spasming under the odd sensation. The third stayed focused on your clit, flicking your sensitive bud as if his life depended on it.

EJ’s hand held your legs harshly. As your legs began to tremble, you slowly began to lose your balance. He took this opportunity to pick you up, holding your legs in his arms as his tongues abused your cunt. Your hands tugged at his hair as he held you in mid air, your thighs trembling in his hands. Each tug you pulled only made him fuck into you rougher, his tongues almost seemingly having a mind of their own. “Fuck- right there, please, right fucking there,” You pleaded, your sinful pleas bouncing throughout the hollow house.

With one final flick of your cunt you came on his tongues, each of them lapping up your juices with pride. Jack needed more, he needed something, anything, to prevent him from fucking you on the floor. “On your knees, now,” He growled as he set you down. With how wobbly your legs were you nearly fell anyways, landing on your knees on the hard wooden floor. EJ felt as hot as a heater, his skin radiating unnatural warmth. You stuck out your tongue, maintaining his gaze as he unbuckled his pants.

“You filthy filthy girl,” EJ muttered. He mockingly traced your jawline, shoving his pants and boxers down to his ankles. You had almost forgotten how large his cock was, his length alone enough to break you. “Awe, what’s wrong? Am I bigger than the human boys you play with?” Jack asked teasingly. He tapped the head of his cock against your tongue, shuddering at the warmth of your mouth.

You took his tip in stride, swirling your tongue around it as the demon before you groaned. EJ began shoving his cock into your mouth further, his tip scraping the back of your throat.

He wasn’t even in half way yet.

“You may want to loosen your jaw,” EJ recommended. How far could the human jaw physically extend? You forced your jaw to go slack, struggling to accommodate to Jacks girth as he pushed himself in further. Jack gritted his teeth out of frustration, fuck, this wasn’t fucking working.

Fuck it.

Fuck this.

His large hand snaked down to your hair, yanking you off of him. He dragged you onto your feet with ease, as if you were as light as a feather. “I changed my mind, I want you now,” Jack mumbled. He roughly brought his lips to yours, dragging you back over to the bed. The only thing he needed in the world right now were your ankles dangling over his shoulders. You were struggling to keep up, your heartbeat racing faster and faster.

The sound made Jack’s ears twitch, his desire to fuck you the only thing that kept him from tearing you apart.

“Jack?”

You stared up at him curiously, EJ realizing he was staring at you blankly.

The demon swallowed, trying to hold himself back. His body was practically vibrating, every fiber in him screaming to breed your pretty little cunt, then to swallow your organs whole. Starting with your precious heart. You didn’t know what he ate, right? Or did you? EJ began to rack his brain, his mind spinning. Were you afraid? You didn’t smell afraid. But to be fair though, all Jack could smell was your arousal.

“Jack?”

Your concern made him snap out of his haze, the realization that he was oddly panting above you hitting him like a brick. He licked his dry lips, trying to form coherent sentences. “You don’t want this, you don’t want to be my mate. You-” Jack began. He knew what it would be mean if he did what he wanted, what every fiber in his being was screaming at him to do. “Deserve a nice human life, with a human man,” He rambled.

Your next action caught him off guard, it being something he hadn’t even fantasized about. It was so shocking to Jack, that he hadn’t even theorized it to be possible. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you dragged him down to you, planting your lips onto his. As you kissed him, your small hand reached down to his throbbing cock, running the tip up and down your folds. EJ growled as he pushed you down against the mattress.

“You’ve done it now,” He snarled. EJ swatted your hand away, pumping his length. Teasingly he brushed the head of his cock against your clit, the overstimulation making you squirm. Jack tried his hardest to be slow once he entered you. Honest. But your walls sucked him in your body screaming that you were almost as desperate as he was. This. This was what he had imaged all of those sleepless nights as he pumped his cock, daydreaming of the disgusting things he’d do to you.

And here you were, withering under him as he shoved his cock inside of your cunt. “Such a good whore for me, such a good hole for me to use,” EJ grunted. He could feel his mind going numb, his ability to maintain composure fading away as he bottomed out. He could feel your walls squeezing him, begging him to let you adjust. His cock was visible through your stomach, the outline only fueling the fire further.

“So sorry, I can’t hold back any longer- Have to- Need to breed you,” Jack panted, moving his hips. You bit your bottom lip as he began to fuck you, the pain almost too much. You had taken him before, sure, but he wasn’t this rough with you. He let out low growls as he fucked you, the pain slowly subsiding into pleasure. Jack couldn’t help but nuzzle himself into the side of your neck, inhaling your scent.

Your hands had grabbed his hair, tugging at it as he mercilessly pounded into you. Your moans were mixtures of pleas and incoherent babbles, his name mixed in there somewhere. You couldn’t think straight, Jacks hips having a mind of their own. “Fuck, i’m gonna breed you, you’re going to be mine,” Jack huffed. He licked the side of your neck, the sweat coating your skin flooding his tastebuds.

He could hear your heartbeat speed up even faster, your body struggling to keep up with Jack as he fucked you. “You’re gonna be my mate, you understand? My personal cumdump,” He snarled. The degrading words were the most he had spoken in weeks, his mind screaming at him to cum inside of you. He needed it like he needed air. He needed to see your cunt red and puffy, leaking his cum.

EJ managed to leave the comfort of your neck, watching the outline of his cock slide in and out of you as he abused your cervix. “You’re gonna be such a good mother, gonna take you back to the mansion,” Jack groaned, his words slipping out mindlessly. He grabbed your legs, forcing them to spread wider. You whined as he grabbed your tender flesh, pounding into you. He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You’re mine, my mate to breed, you’re gonna carry my kids, over and over and over,” EJ growled. You could feel yourself getting close, your eyes practically seeing stars. “J-Jack, i’m getting close-” You warned. Jack grinned, his thrust not letting up for a second. “Go on mate, cum for me so I can mark you as mine,” EJ ordered, his words almost muffled by his animalistic growls. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you came, your orgasm only making Jack fuck you harder.

He grabbed your limp body, pounding into you through your orgasm until he found his own high. Loud moans exited his throat as he came inside of you, your cunt now full of the demons sperm. He panted as his heart rate began to settle, his stomach beginning to growl. His eye sockets widened as he realized he could still hear your heartbeat, the sound coming back into focus. He swallowed, your smell making his desire shift to raw hunger.

Jack pulled out of you quickly, relieved to see that you were relatively dazed. Your eyes were closed, your focus on slowing your body back down to normal. As calmly as he could he slid off of the bed, redressing himself. He knew if he alerted you he would owe you an explanation. It would put him at a dangerous crossroad. He would either have to tell the brutal truth, or a painful lie that would no doubt put your relationship in jeopardy.

EJ grabbed his mask, sliding back onto his face as he pulled down the sleeves of his hoodie. He watched his cum ooze out of your cunt and onto the sheets, the sight almost enough to overrule his painful hunger.

Almost.

Jack slipped out of your window quickly, running to the next heartbeat he could hear.

An odd satisfaction washed over him as he ran into the night, knowing you were now his.

#eyeless jack x y/n #eyeless jack x you #eyeless jack smut #eyeless jack x reader #jeff the killer x eyeless jack #eyeless jack x jeff the killer #eyeless jack #creepypasta x y/n #creepypasta x female reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta lemon #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta smut #creepypasta

1K notes · View notes

queenxxxsupreme · 2 months

Text

Ghost (Logan Howlett x reader)

A/N: this is my first attempt at a fic in a while, so please just bear with me. This takes place after the events of Deadpool and Wolverine. I feel like I am not too great at writing Wade’s character and I think I’m still learning how to write Logan so just please don’t hate me if anything seems out of character. I hope you enjoy :)

Warnings: cursing, mentions of thoughts of suicide, nothing else out of the ordinary for a Deadpool and Wolverine fic

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: What happens when the man who broke your heart shows up on your doorstep with a weird man claiming to be from another universe?

As you were tying your robe into place, the sound of glass shattering in the other room caught your attention.

“Fuck.” You muttered before hastily making your way down the hallway. “Nugs, what the hell are you doing in here?”

The overweight orange cat meowed loudly from where he sat on the floor. Directly beside him was a pile of dirt and the remnants of your favorite flower pot.

“Nugget! Dude, we have talked a million times about you trying to get up on that shelf.” You shooed the cat away from the mess, then went to retrieve a broom. “You are far too big to be trying to climb up there. You could get hurt.”

He meowed again and rubbed against your calf, offering his own version of an apology.

You swept the dirt and plant material into the dustpan. As you were making your way towards the trash can, a firm knock came at the front door.

Nugget started meowing loudly. It was almost like he was trying to imitate a siren and warn you that there was someone at the door.

Cautiously, you moved towards the door. You weren’t expecting anyone, sure, but you also knew absolutely no one in the city, so why would someone be knocking on your door at 11:30 on a Wednesday night?

You pulled the door open to see an unknown man. He wore a trucker hat with the words ‘this is actually my first rodeo’ stitched on to it. He was wearing a gray hoodie and jeans. The skin covering his face was scarred badly.

“Can I help you?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

“Oh my FUCK! You didn’t tell me we were coming to see Y/N!” The man turned around to reveal Logan Howlett.

Your heart jumped to your throat at the sight of him, and the very thought of breathing went right out the window.

He stood with his arms crossed. The dark red flannel he wore stretched over his muscles. It was like the shirt was two sizes too small for him. The jeans he wore were dark and fit him snug. His hair wasn’t as poofy as you remembered it being, but it was still styled and spiked just like he had always done.

As you took in the sight of the Wolverine, you realized he didn’t look as unkempt as you so vividly recalled him being the last time that you saw him.

“Uh, hi, Y/N.”

Hearing him say your name almost made you vomit right then and there. It had been years since you last heard him say your name.

You snapped out of your trance, the tension and nerves in your stomach twisting into anger.

“What the fuck do you want, Logan?”

”I know it’s a long shot, but we need somewhere to stay for the night.”

You couldn’t believe what he was saying. What made him think he had the right to ask you for anything?

You started to close the door but the man you didn’t know stopped you, placing his hand on the door.

“Hold on just a second, Y/N! We have some wild— and I mean wild —stories to tell you.”

”I don’t know you, fuck nuts.” You snapped. Your irises disappeared as the entire eye turned black. “Now if you two don’t get the hell away from my apartment—,”

”I know you don’t owe me anything, Y/N.” Logan paused, taking a second to admire how stunning you looked. You stood there in nothing but a soft pink robe with little cherries all over it and your hair was wet. You even smelled the same. “We’re doing some…. work nearby and we need somewhere to stay.”

”Go fuck yourself, how about that?” You tried to close the door but this time Logan stopped you. His hand was firm and steady as he held the door open.

“I-I just want to talk to you.”

You held his gaze, your eyes returning to their normal Y/E/C color.

Perhaps if he hadn’t looked so different from the last time you saw him, you’d slam the door in his face. But he didn’t look broken, his eyes weren’t empty. The Logan standing before you was more like the one you fell in love with years ago, rather than the one who had broken your heart.

“When was the last time you had a drink?”

Logan let out a heavy breath and almost rolled his eyes.

“Look, I’m not gonna lie to you. It was, like, forty-five minutes ago. But it was just one drink.”

”He’s seriously been cutting back on the alcohol.” The stranger nodded his head. “But if you ask me, I’d rather him be loaded with that shit. Makes him more tolerable.”

Logan elbowed him harshly in the ribs.

”It’s a good thing I didn’t ask you then isn’t it, buddy?” I raised my brows at the stranger.

”Yikes, you are just like I remember you being. All sweet and mean and shit.”

“Please, Y/N.” Logan pulled your attention back to him.

With a sigh of defeat, you stepped back and held the door for the two men.

“Yes! Thank you, Y/N.” The stranger happily entered your home. “You know, I’ve always wanted to see what your place was like. The you from my world banned me from her place a long time ago. We wear the same size shoes, you know. And apparently, she doesn’t like to share. Said I stretched out her Burkins. And her nighties.”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you listened to the man ramble.

“Who in the fuck are you?”

”Wade Wilson.” The man turned around to face you, holding his hand out. “You might know me as Deadpool.”

”No, actually. I don’t.” You crossed your arms over your chest, ignoring his outstretched hand. “Where the hell did you get this guy, Logan?”

”Uh, it’s a long story.”

”I can explain it all, momma. Let’s have a seat.” Wade gestured to your kitchen table and then pulled a chair out.

***

You stepped out onto your balcony, pulling a carton of cigarettes from the pocket in your jacket. Your eyes flickered out over the city.

Never in a million years did you think that Logan Howlett would show up at your apartment looking like a kicked dog. Never in a million years did you think he’d be able to dig himself out of the hole he tried to bury himself in ages ago. And never in a million years did you think he would have the guts to stand in front of you asking to stay for just the night.

He needed somewhere to stay for the night, somewhere to rest in the midst of whatever the fuck he was doing. And with him came a strange man by the name of Wade Wilson.

The air was cool and a gentle breeze blew through your hair. The faint sound of car horns kept you from being too absorbed by your own thoughts.

Out of the corner of your eye, something moved. It was Wade.

You took a puff of the cigarette and then offered it to him.

“Oh, no thank you. I’m trying to limit my oral intake of carcinogens.”

You nodded, finding it best not to question him, and moved to sit down at the little table.

“Sometimes I think things couldn’t get any more crazy. The man who broke my heart and made me contemplate offing myself shows up at my front door out of the blue with a man claiming to be from another universe entirely. How am I supposed to react to that?”

Wade opened his mouth to answer your rhetorical question with something sassy, but he stopped himself. He could see that your eyes were glossy and your breath was shaky. Your hand trembled as you held the cigarette up to your lips.

He slipped into the seat next to you, racking his brain for something to say.

“Did you know that?” You asked him, your eyes finding his. “That when we broke up, when he…. When Logan decided that he was done…. I thought about killing myself.”

”No, I didn’t.” Wade spoke softly.

”We were together for years. Almost a lifetime. And he just…. He just couldn’t take it anymore. After what happened at the school.” You paused for a moment. “He couldn’t move on, but he couldn’t die either. Everything just turned him into someone I— someone I didn’t know. Don’t know.”

Wade watched you in silence. His chest began to feet tight, like it was hard for him to breathe. Seeing his best friend— or at least his best friend in his world —so torn up, so genuinely hurt, made Deadpool feel bad.

“In my world, you two were together until his dying breath.”

Your eyes snapped over to him, unsure that you had heard him right.

”What?”

”Wherever you were, he was not too far behind. You two were inseparable. Practically joined at the hip.”

You gazed at him for a few moments, giving yourself time to process his words. An ache began to stir in your gut, the same ache that you fought every single minute of every single day to suppress.

“He-He died? In your- In your world, I mean.”

”Yeah. Oh, yeah.” Wade rubbed his palms on the thighs of his jeans. “It was a real dark time for everyone. I never even got to team up with him before he croaked.”

You flicked the ashes from your cigarette into an ashtray. You leaned back in your seat, taking a deep breath.

“Your Logan, was he like this one?”

“Very similar. This one gives off slutty vibes. And he’s more drunk than the one from my world.”

“Was I happy with him, Wade?”

The Deadpool looked at you for a while. It was so weird to him that you were questioning your happiness with Logan Howlett. In his world, all you ever did was talk about Logan, about the memories you had with him.

“Happier than anyone I ever knew.” He nodded his head softly. “Look, I don’t know your situation with him in this world, but I think you should let him talk to you.”

You took a deep breath of the cigarette. The back of your throat burned.

“I can’t do that.”

“Sure you can. Just let him talk and explain himself. Make him feel like a dick for what he did. Then have the hottest makeup sex ever. Lovers-to-enemies-back-to-lovers sex is the best. Or so I’ve heard. I haven’t had a chance to experience that yet. Still on my bucket list.”

“He wouldn’t listen to me before. What makes you think he’ll listen to me now?”

“In our little journey we’ve had, I think I’ve been a good influence on him. I got him to smile, like, three times.”

You wanted to believe him, to trust the words he was telling you and the grin on his face. But you couldn’t stop thinking back to the Logan you remembered.

The cigarette between your fingertips disappeared beneath your touch, the gentle breeze taking away the particles of what was left of it.

You looked down at your hand, a shaky breath leaving through your lips.

“I don’t know, Wade.”

“That’s okay, momma. That’s okay.” He put his hands up. “It’s late and it’s been a wild and odd day for you. Why don’t you go get some sleep?”

“Yeah.” You nodded your head, standing from your chair.

He stood to his feet and looked down at you for a few moments. Then his arms wrapped around you and he pulled you in for a tight hug.

“Oh, uh–,”

“Shhh. Just let me hug you.” He whispered.

You were confused and shocked a little bit, but you hugged him back nonetheless.

“You smell just like the Y/N from my world.”

”Alright, okay.” You pulled away from him.

“I’m gonna go see if the princess is done with her shower yet.”

“Goodnight, Wade.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

You watched him walk back into your apartment and he disappeared around a corner.

You stood there for a few moments in silence. He was an interesting man. You almost enjoyed how much he constantly annoyed Logan.

“What a fucking day.” You rubbed your temple with one hand as you moved to return to your seat.

The cigarette pack was pulled from your jacket pocket and you took out a second cigarette. You put the stick between your lips, then reached back into your pocket to pull out a lighter.

Someone cleared their throat. You turned your head to see Logan standing in the doorway. He was in a pair of black sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hair was damp, a telltale sign that he had just gotten out of the shower.

You said nothing to him for a few heartbeats.

“Your friend is strange.” You nodded to the seat beside you that Wade had previously sat in. As Logan sat down, you held out the pack of cigarettes for him.

“Thanks.” He muttered, taking the box and pulling a cigarette out. You took it back from him and tossed it down onto the table. “He’s…. He’s not too bad.”

You lit your cigarette, then passed the lighter to Logan.

”When’d you take up smoking?” He placed the lighter down on the table next to the pack of cigarettes.

“Couple years ago.”

Logan wanted to look at you, to see how much you had changed in the years since he had last seen you. But he couldn’t bring himself to see the way that you looked at him. The sadness. The grief. The anger. So instead, the Wolverine focused his gaze on the skyline ahead.

The two of you sat there in silence for what felt like ages. Part of you didn’t know what to say, but the other part of you didn’t feel like it was your job to be the first to speak. That was on him.

You finished the cigarette with one final deep breath, then you put it out in the ashtray. The silence was getting to be too much, and you contemplated getting a third cigarette.

“Why did you come here, Logan?” You crossed your arms tightly over your chest.

”I wanted to…. I guess I just wanted to see you.” He blew a cloud of smoke from his lips. “The whole way here, I was trying to think of something to say, of what I could say to apologize to you, to show you that I am sorry. But nothing is good enough. Nothing sounds good enough.”

You turned your head to look at him, tilting your head to the side just a little.

“Start with an actual apology, Logan. Tell me that you are sorry. God knows you’ve never fucking done that before.”

Logan pressed his lips together tightly. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you, not yet at least.

“I am sorry, Y/N.”

You didn’t realize you were crying until the breeze blowing over the balcony made your damp cheeks feel cold. You turned away from him, hastily wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket.

“I am— I’m so, so fucking sorry for everything.” Logan’s voice was quiet.

“I thought about killing myself, Logan.”

It was his turn to look at you. His brows were drawn together and his lips parted.

“What?”

“I had no one left. The Professor was gone. Storm, Jean, there was no one fucking left for me to go to.” Your voice trembled as you said each name.

“I’m— Y/N, I’m sorry. I just…. There was a lot going on and I—,”

”You don’t think I didn’t fucking see what was going on, Logan?” You cut him off. The sadness and grief you felt quickly turned to anger. “I wanted to help you. I did everything I could to try to help you! And you just shot me down like I was a fucking nobody to you. Like we hadn’t spent the last fifteen plus years together!”

”I didn’t know how to process everything!” He raised his voice. All the emotions from all those years ago came flooding back to him. “You couldn’t fix everything, Y/N! You couldn’t just make things better with a snap of your fingers! I was an asshole. The biggest fucking asshole in the world. And I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

You stood to your feet. The thought of just sitting idly while you felt the white hot anger of a thousand suns under your skin made you want to vomit.

“Fuck you, Logan. Actually and genuinely fuck you. To think you have the right to find me and just waltz in and try to apologize for fucking being the absolute biggest dickhead in the entire—,”

Logan cut you off by wrapping his arms around you. He pulled you into what was perhaps the tightest hug you had ever had in your life. He buried his face against the side of your head, his hands pressing firmly into your back.

You were frozen in shock for the first few seconds. What was he doing? What was he trying to do?

”I’m so fucking sorry.” His voice cracked. “I’m so sorry.”

And just like that, you melted around him. Your arms wrapped around his torso. You buried your face in his chest.

Sure, you weren’t completely accepting of his apology. There were still plenty of conversations the two of you needed to have to work through your issues. But you would be lying if you said you hadn’t been dreaming about this moment for years.

You stood there for a long time, probably too long, holding him as tight as you possibly could. Your tears dampened his hoodie at the center of his chest and you were sure you could feel his own tears making your hair damp.

When he finally felt that he had held you for long enough, Logan pulled back. You looked up at him, taking in a shaky breath through your lips. His large hands came up to cup your face, thumbs brushing the tears away.

”We should go to sleep.”

”Yeah.” You nodded your head, stepping away from him so that you could gather yourself quickly. “Um, yeah. I think Wade said something about sharing the guest bed with you.”

”Oh, great.” Logan rolled his eyes.

“You can always sleep on the couch if you want.” You offered, moving around him and into your apartment.

You stopped in the kitchen to watch him. As he stepped into the dim lighting of your home, you found yourself staring at him once more. It felt like you were dreaming, like maybe this was some sort of coma dream. Maybe you fell down the stairs in your apartment and this wasn’t real.

”Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Logan.”

#Logan Howlett x reader #Logan howlett fic #Logan howlett angst #Logan Howlett #Wade Wilson #deadpool and wolverine #wolverine x reader #wolverine #Deadpool #X-men #queenxxxsupreme

532 notes · View notes

nightmare-niko · 10 months

Text

Welcome Home [Childhoodbestfriend!Coryo x reader]

Warnings: TBOSAS spoilers, angst, two idiots in love, too cute for your own good tbh, no use of Y/n

A/n: Im still getting back in the swing of fanfic writing but if you have any other characters from The Hunger Games universe you want me to write for just lmk!!!!

Copying or translating my writing is not allowed. If you see my work on another site it is stolen. Reblogs are appreciated and encouraged.

Childhoodbestfriend!coryo who searches for your face in the crowded train station, and when he finally sees you, his knees almost gave in.

The two of you didn’t leave off on the best of terms (he blew you off the second he met Lucy Gray) and Coriolanus didn’t think you’d show up to welcome him home.

But there you were.

There in the crowd you stood, nervously playing with the end of your hair just like you always did. You looked through the sea of faces for your best friend, at first you couldn’t see him. Perhaps you missed him? Surely not… But then, there he was. Coriolanus Snow, Your Coryo.

Before you could register what was happening you were barreling towards him. Engulfing him in a bone crushing hug that he doesn’t hesitate to return.

“Oh Coryo!” You exclaim, pulling back from the hug to get a better look at him. “Oh my goodness! Your hair! What did they do to your hair? You’re bald!” You rub your hands in his head, savoring the strange new sensation.

He laughs gently, taking your wrists in his hands and holding them close. “I am not bald! it’ll grow back before you even realize, a swear.” He pauses for a moment, staring deeply into your eyes. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve missed you more than you can know, Coryo”

“I’m sure i missed you more,” he paused again. “Where’s Tigris?”

“Don’t worry, she’s at work, she wishes she could be here but you know how her boss is.” Coryo hums in acknowledgment, “and I talked to grandma’am earlier today and she gave me strict instructions to keep you away from your house tonight.” You take his hand and start walking your way through the platform.

“What? Why?” The grip on your hand tight, as if he’s scared to lose you.

“Oh she wouldn’t tell me, she knew I was just gonna end up telling you anyway.” Your arms brush together as you walk, to anyone else, the two of you look like the loveliest couple. “But that just means you get to spend your first day back your favorite person!”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way~”

•

“Are you sure your parents are going to be okay with me staying over?" Your parents were never the biggest fan of Coriolanus Snow, they werent fans of the Snow family at all, and when they saw him on to with that District girl they deemed him no good.

"Oh they moved out, I have the place all to myself,” as you approach us your penthouse door you pat at your pockets for the key. "I Prepared the spare room for you for. When you come over, even though you always insist on taking up my whole bed...”

"Your bed is just the most comfortable bed, ever." He raises his hands in defeate. "Your bed is big enough for the both of us."

“It’s only big enough when you sleep normally which you never do. Ever,” the two of laugh as you enter your home.

When he walks through the door of your lavish capitol penthouse, he couldn’t stop himself from crying. The house didnt look the same from when he was last here. When he was last in your penthouse, it was right after his and Clemensia Dovecoats run in with Dr. Gaul. The once colourless decor of your house was now full of life, full of you.

As the tears fell down his pale check, you turned back to look at him. You were at his side in a second, "Coryo, what’s wrong?" You wipe his tears away with the cuff of your Sleeve.

"Nothing - It's nothing really, I just missed this, You." His voice just above a whisper.

“I missed you too, more than you can know.” You smush his cheeks in between your hand.

He swats your hand away, “I’m not a kid anymore, you can’t treat me like it,” a light pink flush blooms on his ears.

“Oh nonsense! I’m your best friend, and I’m older than you so I’ll always treat you like a kid!”

“You can’t treat me like a kid when I’m president,” he jokes through quiet sobs.

"I’m never going to stop, Coryo, I’m your best friend, it’s my job to annoy you," You run your fingers through his hair.

"You’re never annoying...”

As the two of you make your way into your room. It was the same as he remembered.

"It's the same," he points out.

"What is?" you question,

"The room, you didnt change it...”

"Why would I change it? I love my room, and when my parents moved away and left me the house, I figured: Why not just make the whole place my own?"

You take off your sweater and shoes before climbing into your bed. Your eyes follow Coryo as he walks around your room, making himself at home. After taking off his shoes he joins you on your bed, tackling you in a hug, knocking you over.

“Woah!”

You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders, basking in his warmth. Neither of you feel the need to say anything. Sure you were curious about his time away, but you knew Coryo was tired and all you wanted was for him to be comfortable.

Oh how you’ve missed this.

Tag list: @nallasstuff @chmpgneprblem

(If you wanna be tagged when I post hunger games stuff just lmk and I’ll add u to a tag list!!!)

#friends #mutuals #art #wattpad #writing #original story #fanfic #fantasy #moodboard #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus imagine #coriolanus fanfiction #coriolanus snow #the hunger games #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

883 notes · View notes

baptismbaby · 1 year

Text

† GOD, FORGIVE ME PT. 2

mean!ellie x innocent!reader a/n: posted this to ao3: baptismsbaby warnings: toxic!ellie, corruption, virgin!reader, praise, degrading, gaslighter!ellie, belittling, strap on (r!receiving), not rlly angsty but sorta? creds to elliesgalaxy on pinterest for the pic of ellie wc: 4k<3 part one here

You kneeled by your Bible and candles praying for forgiveness for what happened the previous night. Although you enjoyed your time with Ellie, you felt guilty for going against your own morals. You didn’t judge your friends for having premarital sex and you didn’t think you’d go to Hell over it. If so, everyone would burn and not reach paradise. But you always told yourself that you’d wait until you were married before having sex. You blamed the alcohol and the weed but a part of you believed you would’ve done it sober.

You stood up with a sigh, knowing you had promised to meet Dina for lunch to talk about Ellie’s apology. You spent all night coming up with a lie, which you also felt horrible about. You grabbed your bag and headed out the door. You greeted everyone with a smile as you walked past them. You were thankful that no one knew you drank and smoked the night before.

You walked in and almost ran face first into Seth, who glared down at you. “Sorry!” you apologized, stepping past him and heading towards the table where Dina was sitting.

“Hey you,” she greeted with a smile. “How are you feeling today?”

You sat down and set your bag in the chair next to you. “I woke up with a slight headache this morning but it went away after an hour. So I guess not too bad,” you responded.

“You’re a champ. I feel much better but I woke up feeling like complete shit.”

“I guess I didn’t drink enough to get a proper hangover.”

“Which means you didn’t get drunk enough. Gotta try again!”

“Absolutely not!” you disagreed. “I don’t think I wanna drink again. It tasted horrible!”

“That’s why you get a chaser,” said Dina. “Anyways, let’s get to why we’re here.”

She grabbed your wrist and looked deep into your eyes with a smirk. “Please tell me what Ellie said! I’m so shocked she apologized. She never admits when she’s in the wrong.”

“Well, she came up there and basically told me that she felt bad for making me upset. Even though she’s always doing that,” you laughed. “But she said she realized it went too far and that really, I’m not that bad or something like that. She promised she wouldn’t make fun of me again but who knows.”

“So, are you two gonna be friends?” Dina asked.

You shrugged. “I don’t know… she actually invited me over to watch a movie tonight but I think I’m gonna pass.”

“I think you should go. Ellie never invites people to her place unless it’s for a party or she’s bringing a girl home to fuck. Damn, she really feels bad then,” said Dina.

You couldn’t help but smile. Even though she wanted you to come over to fuck you again, you liked the idea of Dina believing Ellie was going out of her way to prove how sorry she was to you. You originally were going to come over and tell her you weren’t sure if y’all should continue seeing each other but it wouldn’t hurt convincing her to watch a movie.

“Maybe I will go,” you stated. “I wouldn’t want things going back to how they were before.”

Dina peeked behind you and smiled. “Speak of the devil,” she said. You glanced back to see Ellie walking in. Her hair was messy, the top half of it tied up. She wore her gray hoodie still and baggy jeans. She looked over and made eye contact with you. She fixed her gaze on Dina and made her way to the table.

“Sup, Dina,” she said.

“Hey Ellie.”

Ellie looked back at you and nodded. She walked away and sat with a dark haired woman across the room. She smirked at you before starting a conversation with the girl. You frowned, holding your head up with her hand.

“Well, she didn’t say anything to you but she acknowledged you,” Dina uttered.

You couldn’t stop staring at Ellie and the girl. “Who is she sitting with?” you interrogated.

“That’s Cat. You know Cat, she just cut her hair so she’s a bit unrecognizable now.”

You felt a pain shoot through your stomach in jealousy. “Oh, her ex?”

“Yeah. I think they’re talking again. After you left the party, she came by and they disappeared for a couple minutes.”

You felt sick. Ellie used you and knew how much it meant to you to have sex. You got up quickly, the chair scraping across the floor loudly. Ellie turned her head from across the room, staring at you in confusion.

“I-I forgot,” you said. “I forgot I was supposed to help Sadie with something for bible study.”

Dina cocked an eyebrow at you. “Sadie’s on patrol?”

You smacked your face with your hand. “Shoot, you’re right. That’s next Saturday. Nevermind. I do need to go, though. My head is beginning to hurt again. I think I need a nap. It’s starting to get busy and all the chatter is killing me.”

“You alright?” asked Dina with concern.

“I’ll be okay. I’ll take a nap and feel better.”

“Let me know if you need anything. Oh, and come by tomorrow around noon! I wanna know what you and Ellie are gonna talk about tonight.”

You said nothing to Dina, spinning around to leave. As you walked out, you could see through the window that Ellie was at Dina’s table, leaned over and talking to her. You turned away and sped up so you could get home quickly.

You stood at the mirror on your door, looking up and down at your outfit. You wore your normal baggy clothes so Ellie wouldn’t get any ideas when you went over to talk to her. You grabbed your coat as you exited the door and headed down the steps. Ellie was just two blocks over but you knew you would be freezing to death before you got there. You shoved the jacket on and started walking down the road, your thoughts running rampant as you figured out what’d you say. You couldn’t stop thinking about the way Ellie looked at Cat as they spoke. The more you thought about it, the more you thought about the way Ellie looked in your eyes as she hovered over you. You got close to Ellie’s home and shook those thoughts away, mumbling a quick prayer to yourself so you would stay strong and stay on track.

You knocked on Ellie’s door and waited for her to open it. You heard shuffling inside and then the knob turned, revealing Ellie in a tank top and jeans. You looked down at her exposed tattoo then back up at her face. She wore a shit-eating grin as she stepped aside to let you in. You brushed past her, throwing yourself on her couch in irritation.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ellie, coming to sit next to you. “Mad that I didn’t say hi earlier? Is that it?”

You scooted away from her and refused to look at her. “No,” you muttered.

“Aw, talk to me, pretty girl.”

She reached out to grab your thigh but you smacked her hand away. You stood up and towered over Ellie, glaring at her sweet face. “I-I came here originally to tell you that maybe we shouldn’t have sex again!” you declared. Ellie leaned back, an amused look on her face. “I told myself that I would wait for marriage. My virginity was important to me, Ellie.”

“So… you’re upset that you had sex before being married?” questioned Ellie, still looking entertained about what you were saying.

“I was at first! I prayed and cried, begging God to forgive me. Mostly prayed that He’d forgive me for blaspheming Him. But now I feel stupid for losing my virginity to you,” you explained bitterly.

Ellie frowned. “You didn’t enjoy last night?” she asked in a mocking tone.

“You don’t want me. You’re talking to Cat again! And I’m angry that I was a fool to think you really wanted me. You just wanted in my pants so that you could say you made the good Christian girl go back on her morals, made her give herself to you completely! Just another thing to brag to your friends about.”

Ellie broke out into laughter. “This is about me having lunch with Cat?” She almost couldn’t believe it. You were jealous and assuming something was going on between her and Cat all because you saw them two together.

“Well, you’re sleeping with her again aren’t you?”

“No,” Ellie scoffed. “Who put that idea in your head anyway? Dina?”

“When I left the party, what happened?”

Ellie felt like she was being tested. She hated feeling that way. She only fucked you once and you were already testing her as if you two were in a relationship.

“Cat came by and we talked,” Ellie replied honestly.

“Dina said y’all left the party for a couple minutes.”

“Exactly! I wouldn’t even say a couple minutes, it was probably less than a minute.”

“What did she want?”

“Really? Why does it matter?”

“I can’t sleep with you if you’re sleeping with her too,” you said.

“You’re gonna feel really stupid when I tell you why we met up today.”

You groaned, frustrated that Ellie was making you feel this way. You wished you ghosted her instead. If she wanted her ex, fine. But she was an idiot to think she could still fuck you on the side.

“She wanted advice on how to ask out the girl she’s been seeing.”

Ellie watched as your face turned red in embarrassment.

“You feel stupid, huh?” she teased, smirking at your mortified expression.

“Don’t,” you scolded. “Don’t even… don’t go back to that or I’ll leave.”

“I’m not being mean, baby. I’m stating a fact. C’mere… I know you’re sorry. I forgive you.”

You walked over to her, your knees almost touching hers as she sat up and brushed her fingers along your arms.

“I like that you were jealous. I like that you felt dumb for assuming shit. That’s all you are, my dumb puppy,” she spoke in a low raspy voice. She actually didn’t enjoy that you had gotten jealous. All you were to her was a fucktoy. Jealousy ruins her fun. Ellie decided to let it slide for the night, wanting nothing more than to fuck you until all you can say is a string of apologies for thinking bad of her.

You pulled your arms away, sighing at the loss of her touch but wanting to stand your ground.

“I am sorry, Ellie. But it doesn’t change the fact that we shouldn’t have sex anymore. I wanted to wait until marriage and I want to wait until marriage to have sex again. I messed up once and it’s okay but I cannot sin this way again.”

Ellie hummed, her finger lifting up your shirt slightly to stick it in the hem of your jeans. She slid it across your skin, looking up as your breathing got faster.

“But it felt so good to sin, didn’t it, baby?” she cooed.

“I refuse to confess that to you. God has already forgiven me. I mean it.”

“Then make me stop.”

Ellie started to unbutton your pants, sliding them down around your ankles. She chuckled at the sight of your soaked panties. “You want this as much as I do,” she taunted.

You watched as she pulled them back up. “But if you really don’t want to… well, I won’t make you. But it makes me sad. I had so much planned for tonight.”

You fought with yourself internally as a part of you was desperate for her to take them off again and touch you. You hadn’t moved an inch, not even to button your jeans up. They were falling down slowly, too slow for your liking.

You knew it was wrong but decided it would be okay. All of your friends do it and they’re good people. You truly believed that there was no way that they would go to hell for having sex. They were the best friends you ever had. You never judged them for it so why would they judge you?

You hesitated before you spoke up. “W-What did you have planned?”

Ellie smirked devilishly. She knew you’d give in if she made you feel bad about it. While she realized it was wrong, she didn’t care because things were going her way.

“Follow me,” she demanded. She stood up and you walked after her, feeling nervous but in a good way. Ellie stepped inside her room and you admired the walls. There were so many posters and trinkets scattered over her dressers. In one corner of the room, she had a desk with papers all over it and a guitar next to it. Ellie was digging through her closet as you inched closer to read the papers. Before you could pick one up, Ellie dropped something which startled you. You spun around to see her eyeing you closely. She had thrown something back in the closet on purpose to gain your attention. She shook her head no, her eyes squinted into a glare. You backed away from her desk, choosing to sit on the bed instead.

“Atta girl,” Ellie complimented. She made her way over to the bed with a box. She placed it in front of you on the floor and you peeked in, gasping.

“You’re gonna use all of that on me?”

She chuckled. “No, I want you to pick.”

“To put inside me?”

“For me to wear so I can fuck you properly,” she explained, her voice soft and almost condescending. She knew you had no idea what she meant and how she was going to use it. “Do you see this? It’s a harness,” she continued, holding it up to show you. “I wear it over my boxers and I’ll have whichever one you pick attached to it.”

You looked back in the box and started going through it, picking up different ones and making a face before putting it back in. “These are too big, Ellie,” you admitted. “I think it’ll hurt too much.”

“It’s supposed to hurt the first time, honey. Do you want me to take out the smallest one I have?”

You nodded and slid the box over to her. She reached in and grabbed one, passing it over to you. “It’s five and a half inches long,” she said. “Pretty average. Thick enough but not too thick. Is this okay?”

“It’s okay. Please be gentle, though,” you begged.

“What, you really think I’d be rough on you? I’m not gonna do that until you’re used to it, dummy. I’ll be real slow and gentle until you say otherwise. Although, I’ll probably keep it slow. Not sure if you deserve to be fucked hard. You did come in here accusing me of bullshit earlier.”

You pouted at Ellie, feeling that it was unfair for her to bring it up. Your pout went away though as you watched her take her shirt off. Your eyes followed her hands as she slowly unbuckled her belt and pulled it out of the loops. She shoved her jeans off and stepped out of them. Ellie walked over to you, smirking as you stared at her in awe. “Give it,” she whispered. You handed her the dildo. “Take off your clothes, pup. You wanna be ready for me once this is put together, don’t you?”

You obliged, standing up to discard your clothes as fast as you could. Ellie laughed softly at your desperation. You were completely naked by the time the strap was ready. Ellie stepped closer to you as you pushed yourself further up on the bed. You laid back on the pillow, Ellie now hovering over you. “Such a needy girl,” she murmured. “You’re so desperate for my cock, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Ellie,” you breathed. She looked down at your pussy, gliding her fingers along your thighs.

“I could touch you,” she began. “But do you really deserve that?”

“Y-You bullied me for years, Els, do you deserve to fuck me?” you said slightly above a whisper. You realized what you had said as Ellie’s face twisted into an expression of annoyance. “I-I didn’t mean it-”

“You meant it,” she interrupted. “You want to be a brat now baby? Now you really have to prove how sorry you are.”

“I am sorry!” you whined. You reached up to touch her but she smacked your hand away.

“I’m pissed because I can’t fuck you how I want to. If you continue to act like a brat by the time you’re adjusted to my cock, I’ll fuck the attitude right out of you. I’ll make a mess of you. A braindead little bitch with an aching cunt, crying because I won’t let you cum no matter how much you beg. Got it?”

You nodded, her threats turning you on even more. You liked when she called you a good girl but you also enjoyed the side of her that was angry with you. You couldn’t wait until you got used to getting fucked with a strap so that she could do whatever she wanted with you.

“Use your words,” she demanded.

“I got it, Ellie.”

“Good girl. You want me to continue?”

“Yes please,” you answered.

“God, you’re so beautiful when you’re like this,” said Ellie, going back to being soft and sweet with you. She began to press the tip of her dick to your clit, a soft gasp escaping your lips. “Does that feel good, pup?”

“Mhm!” you moaned in agreement. “S’ good, Ellie!”

“Do you want more or do you want me to put it in?”

“In,” you responded eagerly.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“If you need me to stop or go slower or anything like that, tell me,” she said as she lined her cock up with your entrance. “Are you ready?”

You nodded. Ellie leaned closer so that her face was right in front of yours to watch your reaction. She slowly pushed into you, making you yelp in pain.

“Sh, just like that baby,” Ellie whispered in a raspy voice. “It’s okay. You can take it.”

Ellie kept it inside you for a few seconds so you could adjust to the feeling before she started to thrust into you gently. You whined in both pain and pleasure, loving the feeling of Ellie’s strap inside of you.

“Good girl, you’re taking it so well.”

Ellie kissed you softly as you wrapped your arms around her. Your nails dug into her back, scratching her with every thrust. Ellie rolled her hips at a steady pace, talking you through it until you reached down and tugged at her waist.

“You want more baby?”

“Please, go harder.”

Ellie went harder but still kept the slow pace, watching as your eyes squeezed shut from how good it felt. “Fuck,” Ellie moaned, the sound of your wet pussy making her throb. “You feel good, pup? Is your cunt adjusting well to my cock? Hm?”

“Yes,” you whimpered. “I-I want you to go-to go faster, Els. Please!”

Ellie grinned at your pleading and sped up, hitting all the right spots inside of you. You moaned louder, gripping Ellie’s shoulders and crying out her name.

“Yeah? You like that, honey? Tell me how good it feels,” said Ellie between grunts.

“Fuck it feels s-so good! I’m about to cum, please let me cum!” you begged.

“Such a good little slut, asking for permission. Cum for me like the good girl you are, my good girl,” Ellie growled.

She plunged deeper into you and faster, watching your face as you squealed and whined. Your orgasm took over your body, making you scream out Ellie’s name. Ellie slowed down as you trembled beneath her.

“Atta girl,” she praised.

She pulled out of you and laid back on the bed beside you, turning on her side to watch you catch your breath.

“Was that okay? Did I hurt you?”

You looked over at her and shook your head. “It stung at first but I got used to it. It felt really good,” you uttered between breaths.

“Good, I got a bit too carried away at the end but you seemed to enjoy it.”

You giggled. “Yeah, I did like it when you were rougher.”

“Noted,” Ellie said as she reached over to her drawer, opening it and pulling out an already rolled blunt. She lit it up and offered it to you but you declined.

“I can barely think, Ellie.”

Ellie shrugged and puffed on it, blowing it out away from you. “Suit yourself, doll.”

“Can I ask you something?”

Ellie nodded. “I was wondering… if maybe you could teach me how to touch you?”

“No,” Ellie said almost too quickly. “I can get myself off when you leave. You can stay until I finish this.”

“Oh, I’m not staying the night?”

Ellie shook her head no. You sighed, realizing that you had to walk home with weak legs.

“Why won’t you teach me?”

“Teach you what?”

“Um, teach me how to touch you? I don’t think it’s fair I cum and you don’t,” you stated.

“I don’t do that unless I’m in a relationship with that person.”

“Well, something will come out of this probably so you might as well show me now!” you said as you laughed. You saw the confused expression Ellie made, your smile faltering. “I mean, it is going to, isn’t it?”

“It’s going to what?”

You sighed in frustration, getting mad that Ellie was playing dumb. You knew her better than that. Ellie was a smart girl but would fight her way out of admitting something she didn’t want to. You raised up and grabbed your clothes, suddenly feeling embarrassed and nauseous. “I feel so stupid,” you whispered to yourself. “I should just go.”

“Hey, I want you to stay until I finish my joint so I can walk you out.”

“Such a gentleman, Ellie,” you spat back sarcastically.

“What was that? Did I not just let you cum on my cock after you insulted me earlier? I wasn’t going to let you but I did out of kindness. You should watch your tone with me, church girl, because I won’t be so nice next time.”

“You’re fucking me but don’t plan on having anything with me at some point?” you asked as you stood up. You tumbled a bit due to how shaky your legs were but you tried your best to not let it show. “You could’ve told me.”

Ellie scoffed. “I’m just havin’ fun. I didn’t realize you would want this to be a relationship.”

“I assumed you knew because of how I am. I’m a Christian who dates to marry,” you argued.

“Right, just like you assumed I was fucking Cat again all because you saw us sitting together. Relax, I don’t know where this will go. I like fucking you and I plan on fucking you as often as I can. Not if you’re gonna let your feelings get in the way, though.”

You rolled your eyes and started to get dressed. Ellie continued to smoke her joint while she observed you. “I already know you’re gonna say this is the last time,” Ellie continued. “But you’ll come back. I know you will. I think you need me.”

“What I need is to go home and sleep. I also need you to leave me alone,” you mumbled.

“When I show up to your door tomorrow night, are you really gonna turn me away?”

“Bye, Ellie,” you said as you started to walk away.

“Wait,” Ellie stood up and put her joint out. She slid out of the harness and threw it on the bed, grabbing her tank top and shoving it on as she chased after you. You were almost at the door when she jogged in front of you, opening it for you. “I’ll see you tomorrow, pup,” she said in a teasing tone.

“Fuck you.”

You walked out, Ellie still at the door to watch you go. “You’re gonna regret that tomorrow!”

#ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #tlou #tlou2 #the last of us #the last of us part two

1K notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 9 months

Note

whimsical muggle reader who loves taking note of strange occurrences (i swear my shoes weren't here! like luna basically lol) and marauder bf who can't tell her yet about magic but loves doing some tricks for her to find. (you can pick which marauder! i was gonna go remus but i'm biased lol)

Omg I had so much fun with this, thank you for requesting!

Sirius Black x whimsical!reader ♡ 657 words

“You’re such an old woman, Moony,” Sirius says. “Is that a gray hair I see?”

“Your fault,” Remus replies mildly.

“We’re not all obligated to go clubbing whenever the fancy strikes you,” James argues on Remus’ behalf. “I’ve got a match tomorrow, and our poor Moony’s head is hurting him. Give us a rest.”

“No rest!” Sirius cries, standing from the couch as if he’s addressing a weary army rather than two reluctant men. “Rest is for the elderly and geriatric.” He looks at you hopefully. “You want to go out, don’t you darling?”

“I’m not partial to clubs,” you reply, but your attention is already elsewhere. “Remus, if you have a headache, you should have Sirius make you some of his tea. He made me some when my head hurt last week and it set me right as rain.” You glance at your boyfriend, considering you with peculiar smugness. “And the same happened when I had the hiccups a few days ago. He has a remedy for everything.”

James cocks an eyebrow. “Does he?”

You hum in prideful affirmation, but Sirius seems almost sheepish as he sits back down on the couch, tucking you against his side. “I’ve always been good at brewing,” he says to James with a shrug.

“You should make him your tea,” you urge softly.

Sirius kisses the side of your head. “Moony’s headaches are a bit tougher than yours, angel,” he says, adding at your troubled look, “but I’ll make him some later if he likes.”

“Hey,” James says brightly, “what if we go to the pub on fifth? It’s usually quiet in there. We’ll just stay an hour or so.”

You’ve been dating Sirius long enough to know how this goes with his friends—one hour will turn into four before any of them notice—but nod complaisantly at the hum of assent that goes up from the other boys.

“Let’s go.” Sirius hops back up before anyone can change their minds. He grabs your coat from the hook by the door, holding it out for you.

“Oh.” Your mood sinks slightly as you remember your coat. “I should probably go get another from my room. I tore that one yesterday, remember?”

“I fixed it for you.”

Sirius gives it a shake, signaling for you to take it from him. You do, looking at him in awe.

“Really, Siri? That’s so nice of you.” You feel along the hem of your jacket in search of the split you’d made the day before. You can’t find it, nor any of the smaller blemishes the garment had acquired after years of wear. “How did you do this?”

“I sewed it,” he says breezily, shrugging on his own well-loved leather coat.

You run your fingers over where you could swear the tear had been. “There’s not even a line or anything.”

Remus shoots him a look you can’t decipher, and Sirius gives you a somewhat thin-lipped smile. “What can I say? I’m magic with a needle and thread. Put your coat on, baby.”

You realize then that all three boys are already waiting for you at the door.

“Oh, sorry.” You carefully pull on your newly impeccable jacket, following them outside. “Thank you, Siri.”

“Anytime,” he vows, hand finding its way into your back pocket as James leads you all to the pub.

“You’re so good at fixing things,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “My coat, and when you glued my mug back together so well, and when my peperomia came back to life.”

Sirius chuckles. “It didn’t come back to life, angel.”

“It was dying,” you reason. “I couldn’t get it to stop wilting, but then all of a sudden it perked up.”

“You must’ve nursed it back to health,” he replies, and his tone is blasé but the smile he shoots you is oddly pleased. He gives your ass a playful squeeze. “Stranger things have happened, sweet thing.”

Around Sirius, they certainly have.

945 notes · View notes

munson-blurbs · 1 year

Text

Single Dad!Eddie x Fem!ReaderSeries

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9

Summary: It's finally time for your coffee date with Eddie, leading the two of you to fall even harder for each other.

Warnings: brief mention of drug dealing, Reader's grandma has dementia, character death

WC: 6.5k

Chapter 9/20

Divider credit to @saradika

The lime green numbers of the microwave clock reads 11:57, which means that Eddie will be here any minute. You drag your palms on the thighs of your boot-cut jeans, triple-checking that your perspiration hasn’t left a visible stain on the light-wash fabric.

“Okay, her lunch is in the fridge. And the number of the coffee shop is on the counter,” you tell Jess, pointing to the scrap of notebook paper in front of her. “If you need something, just call, and I’ll come home.”

Jess waves away your concern with a kind smile. She’d been pleading with you to get out there and date for ages now, and she was just glad you’d finally taken her advice. Though, you note wryly, she would not be happy if she knew who that date was.

“We’ll be fine,” she reassures you, bracing a hand on your shoulder. “If anything, we’ll need to check on you. Who is this mystery date, anyway?”

“Just a guy,” you say, trying to remain light and casual while simultaneously fighting down the barrage of nerves in your stomach.

Jess takes a step back, wrinkling her nose and crossing her arms over her chest. “Oh, God, it’s not one of those creeps from a dating hotline, is it? Because I’ve never heard of one of those that didn’t end up on 48 Hours.”

“No, no, don’t worry,” you shake your head, spotting a piece of lint on your cable knit sweater and plucking it off carefully. You flick it off of your finger, silently berating yourself when you remember that you’ll have to vacuum it later. “It’s a guy from around here.”

Your friend wipes imaginary sweat from her brow as the buzzer rings. You race to the intercom to let him in before he can say anything, but your reflexes are too slow.

“Hey, it’s me.” The sound of his voice has your body pulsing, an eager grin tugging at your lips despite your intentions to keep calm. His slight rasp has you craving the sting of tobacco just to flatten your nerves.

You clear your throat before speaking. “Okay, I’ll be right down.” Grabbing your jacket from where you’ve haphazardly thrown it over the back of the couch, you’ve almost made it to the door, when—

“No. No.” You cringe at the way Jess’s words bite into your excitement. “Please tell me that your date is not Eddie Munson.” You can only offer her a sheepish grin, and she rolls her eyes. “Seriously?!”

You huff out a sigh, both impatient to go on the date and flustered at being caught. “Look, he’s changed. A lot.”

“Oh, you mean he stopped calling you a bitch and making shitty comments about your grandma?” Jess snorts. “How chivalrous.”

There’s no time to explain everything that’s happened, so you simply say, “I’ll be back in two hours,” before closing the door behind you, making sure that it latches before you start down the hallway.

Eddie is waiting in the tiny lobby. He’s leaned up against the double doors, tapping one Reebok-clad foot and examining his fingernails anxiously. A memory crashes over you; one where his nails are painted jet black, though there hasn’t been any polish on them in some time.

He smiles as soon as he spots you, standing up straighter and walking to meet you before you can get to the door. “Hey,” he says softly, letting his hand brush yours as he kisses your cheek.

“Hey, yourself.” You want to kiss him back, but not on his cheek. Your lips yearn to crash against his once more; this time, anchored in belonging rather than lust. Instead, you manage a compliment. “You clean up nice.”

It’s the truth. His gray jeans are free of any holes, sometimes intentional but often the result of overwearing. The sleeves of his red sweater are pushed up slightly, exposing the litany of tattoos on his arms, and it occurs to you that you want to know each of their origins.

“Can’t lie, Harris helped pick out my clothes today,” he admits. “He caught me trying to figure out what to wear and we finally agreed on this.” He sweeps a hand down his side to emphasize his point.

“Was the ponytail his idea, too?” His curls are pulled back and rest at the nape of his neck.

Eddie shakes his head with a laugh as his cheeks tinge pink. “Nah, that was all me.” He pauses, gaze briefly landing on your mouth before his eyes are drawn back to yours. “You’re…you’re beautiful.”

You try to shrug off the compliment, still caught off-guard by his kindness. You wonder when—or if—that unease will dissipate. “I think you’re just used to seeing me with Play-Doh stuck to my shirt,” you tease, but he doesn’t break his trance.

“You’re always beautiful.” The sincerity of his statement clings to a silence that should be awkward, but is somehow comforting. After a few seconds, he clears his throat, lifting the fog of budding romance that clouds the lobby. “Let’s go get some coffee, yeah?”

Eddie takes your hand in his when you nod, leading you to his car and opening the passenger door for you. He sweeps his hand in the direction of the seat, and you giggle.

“Such a gentleman.”

He doesn’t divulge that Wayne reminded him to open doors for you when he’d come over to the apartment for dinner last night, or that the older man had slipped him a crumpled ten dollar bill and whispered, “get her something to eat, too,” punctuating his statement with a wink.

His left leg bounces as he starts the engine and he grates his teeth over his lower lip. He doesn’t even realize that he’s doing either of these things until you timidly rest a hand on his right knee and ask, “You okay?”

“Mhm,” he mumbles, gliding the gear shift from ‘park’ to ‘reverse’ as he backs out of his spot. “Just, uh, been a long time since I’ve gone on a date.” And never with someone so goddamn perfect, he wants to add, but he’s stopped by the fear of coming on too strong.

You graze your thumb over the gray denim and smile at him. “Well, you’re doing great so far.”

“Yeah?” Eddie grins at your reassurance, the soft dimples at the corners of his mouth deepening.

“Yeah.”

He turns on the radio with a slight snap of his wrist, shifting the skull ring that wraps around his middle finger. A metal song comes on that you don’t recognize, drumbeats thumping through the old speakers. Eddie winces, nudging the volume down so he can hear himself speak over the impending guitar solo. “You can change it to something you like better.”

“Nah, this is fine,” you shake your head. “Kinda warming up to heavier music since someone gave me a Guns ‘N Roses tape.”

Eddie’s eyebrows brush the edge of his tousled bangs in surprise. “You really listen to it?”

“All the time,” you confirm truthfully. It’s quickly become one of your favorites; each time you play it, you’re reminded of Harris dressed as a miniature Axl Rose, drawing a picture of you and Eddie holding hands. Not to mention the way that Eddie adoringly gazed at you while you calmed his son down, quickly throwing together an art project and saving the day.

“How’s Grandma?” he asks now, pressing on the brake as he approaches a stop sign.

“Same as always. Her aid had to take her to the hospital the other day because she fell, and she’s been losing more language.” You try to play it off like it doesn’t bother you, but your heart pangs as you speak. When she was initially diagnosed, you’d known that she’d forget who people were, but you hadn’t realized that she would eventually forget how to talk. “Good news is, she hasn’t lost her appetite for Oreos. I have to keep the package you brought over hidden away so she doesn’t eat them all.”

Eddie laughs at this. “Told you; there’s nothing Oreos can’t fix.” He pulls into the cafe parking lot and snags the first available spot he sees. “I really am sorry that you have to see that, though. It can’t be easy.”

You keep your eyes trained on the dashboard, knowing that you’ll tear up if you catch a glance of his sympathetic expression. “‘S just par for the course with dementia, I guess.”

Eddie doesn’t say anything else–he isn’t sure what to say–as he kills the engine. He clicks off his seatbelt to scramble to your door, but it gets snagged in the crook of his elbow, yanking him back.

“Jesus, shit,” he grumbles, untangling himself from the trap he’d inadvertently created. “Don’t move; I’m not done being a gentleman.”

You put your hands up in surrender, watching as he walks to your side and opens the door. “Wow, that was such a surprising gesture,” you mock him, letting out a breathless scoff when he flips you the bird. “Giving me the middle finger kinda negates the whole ‘gentleman’ thing, dontcha think?”

Eddie pretends to consider this, crossing his arms over his chest while shifting his weight to one leg, bringing his hand to his freshly-shaved chin. “Mm, nope.” He helps you out of the seat, still not letting go of your hand once you’re standing next to his car. He holds it tighter, so you can feel every etch of the lifelines across his palm.

The mouth-watering scent of warm pastries and freshly brewed coffee swirls throughout the cafe, wafting to your nose as soon as you open the door. Or, more precisely, as soon as Eddie opens the door for you. You assume he’ll slip his fingers back through yours after you’re both inside, but he hesitates before letting his palm hover on the small of your back. You can barely feel the pads of his fingertips through your thick sweater, but as soon as you give him a smile, he allows himself to hold you a bit closer.

A chipper, twenty-something barista whose name tag reads Stephanie greets you as you approach the counter. “Hi! What can I get you folks?”

Eddie nudges you to place your order, which you give with a polite smile. “Just a coffee with room for milk,” you tell her.

You turn to Eddie so he can give his order, but he says softly, “Get something to eat, too.” He points to the display of baked goods before you, and you peer into the case. The prices are listed next to each item, and you furrow your brow at the $2 brownie.

“Oh, s’okay,” you murmur, trying to play it off. The last thing you need is for Eddie to think you’re pitying him, which, okay, maybe you are. He just doesn’t have to know that. “You can get something, though.”

He shakes his head with a grin. “I’m not falling for that trick, Sweetheart.” It’s odd to hear the nickname without the prefix Ms. in front of it, or without a sneer in his voice. It’s kind, comforting, dare you even venture…a term of endearment? “You tell me you don’t want anything, and then you end up eating half of what I pick. Nope, you’re getting your own.”

“Fine, fine,” you roll your eyes playfully, eventually settling on a blueberry muffin. Eddie’s coffee order is the same as yours, but he gets a chocolate chunk cookie with his. He digs into his back pocket for his wallet, worn and frayed around the edges, and pulls out a ten-dollar bill, leaving a remaining dollar in the colorful jar marked ‘Tips’.

You grab the plated pastries and Eddie shuffles behind with the coffee mugs, gently placing them on the counter next to the silver thermoses and baskets of sugar packets. You pour a bit of milk into yours, watching in amusement as Eddie dumps some of the coffee into the trashcan, filling the mug with half & half and tearing open three Domino packets.

“You want some coffee with that sugar bomb?” you gently tease, and he flicks your shoulder with a dramatic pout on his lips.

“I’d rather this than whatever bitter concoction you’re drinking,” he retorts, taking an exaggerated sip from his mug and punctuating it with an aaaahhh.

You roll your eyes. “You really should be grateful that I like bitter things. If I didn’t, then I wouldn’t like you.” Your response earns you another flick to the shoulder before Eddie brings the drinks to a table tucked away in the corner.

You set the cookie in front of him and the muffin at your spot across from him, pulling a crumb from the side and popping it in your mouth. The sweetness of the pastry with the slightly sour berry is heaven on your tongue.

“‘S good?” Eddie asks, smiling brightly when you nod your head. “Wanna try a bite of mine?” He breaks off a piece, and a smattering of crumbs fall to the table. You expect him to place the piece in your hand; instead, he leans over and brings it to your lips. His fingertips brush against them, parting them ever-so-slightly. An electric buzz hums down your spine, and you wonder if he feels it, too.

You’re careful not to let your tongue graze his fingers as you take the chocolate-flecked dessert into your mouth. Eddie, however, is in no rush. He lingers, slowly moving the rough pads of his fingers across your soft lips. In doing so, he wipes away rogue remnants of the cookie he just fed you, though you strongly doubt that that was his intention.

“Here, try mine.” You pinch off a piece of the muffin, a bit bigger than the piece you took for yourself, and bring it to him. His lips close around the very tips of your thumb and forefinger where you’re holding the bite of muffin. You feel the brief flicker of his tongue, gone before you can even process it, taking the muffin piece with it.

“Not bad,” Eddie says with a grin. “I don’t usually like fruit in my dessert, but I’d make an exception for that. Could definitely use some more chocolate, though.” As if to illustrate his sentiment, he takes a comically large bite of his cookie.

“One of these days, I’ll get you to eat a vegetable.” You mean it as a joke, a ribbing towards his poor eating habits, but it implies that you’ll stick around. That you care about him. You’re unclear about how he interpreted your statement, so you quickly change the subject before he can think about it. “I do have a question for you. Completely unrelated to the lack of nutrients in your diet.”

Eddie ignores the teasing jab and takes another bite of cookie. “Shoot.”

“The, uh, lock-picking kit,” you start, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your nerves calm. “Do you just keep them laying around?” You hate the idea of him using it to commit break-ins. If that was the truth, would he even admit it to you?

But Eddie just laughs, sipping his barely-coffee with a knowing smirk. “When Harris was about two, Wayne was watching him. He left for a second to grab the mail and the little stinker locked him out.”

“Out of the trailer?!” you ask incredulously, jaw dropping in shock.

“Out of the trailer,” Eddie confirms, shaking his head as though he still can’t believe it himself. “So, yeah. Ever since that happened, I’ve kept a lock-picking kit in my car.” He takes a deep breath, looking into your eyes with a gaze that makes your heart skip a beat. He drums his fingertips on the table as he says, “Tell me about you.”

“Me?”

“Yeah, you,” Eddie accentuates his request with a quick poke of your hand before returning his grip to the mug handle. “Like, how did you end up being the one schlepping out to Hawkins to take care of Grandma?”

You shrug and bring the hot cup to your lips, letting the steam tickle your nose before you drink. “She and I were always really close, and teaching is a job that’s everywhere. It was just easier for me to pick up and move, I guess.”

Eddie pauses, nodding as he considers his next question. He rubs his palm back and forth on the side of his mug; there’s an air of nervousness around him. “Tell me about her. Grandma, I mean. Like, how she was before she got sick.”

“Where do I start?” It’s strange, you think, the way memories work. Sometimes it seems like the more Grandma forgets, the more you remember. You’ll just be lesson planning, or hurriedly making photocopies at work, or heating up leftovers in the microwave, and a memory will crash over you. Suddenly, you’re plucked from reality and transported to Benny’s Diner where you and she used to split a giant stack of pancakes. Or to the shoe store where she’d buy you a new pair of sneakers every August before the start of the new school year. “She just loved taking care of people. Cooking for them or cheering them up. She wasn’t the type of person to tell you to stop crying when you’d get upset, y’know? She’d sit there with you, rub your back, and let you get all the tears out.” You muster a wistful smile in a paltry attempt to hide the shame blooming in your chest. “It’s all so fucked, the way I talk about her like she’s gone when she’s still here.”

“No.” Eddie’s voice is soft yet adamant. “I don’t think it’s fucked at all. Because, I dunno, it’s like she’s not here, in a way. Physically, yeah; but almost like…” He stops himself to avoid speaking out of turn and making a fool of himself.

“Like she’s a shell of who she used to be,” you finish for him, and relief floods his body when you understand the point he’s trying to make.

He nods. “Exactly.” He smooths his ponytail reflexively. “I think you’re a lot like her. How she was, anyway. The way you’re always looking out for people, like…let’s say…a bitter wannabe rockstar and his adorable yet mischievous son?”

“That’s the best compliment I’ve gotten in a long time.” It’s all you want, really–to spread joy and kindness to others, filling in gaps that have remained empty for so long that they seemingly go unnoticed. “Maybe ever, actually.”

Good, Eddie wants to say. He wants to whisper sweet nothings into your ear, each one kinder than the last, until you’re utterly flustered. Instead, he abruptly changes the subject and asks, “What made you wanna be a teacher?”

This is a much easier question for you to answer. “I just love seeing kids learn,” you beam. “Being able to do things they couldn’t do before; things they never thought they’d be able to do.”

He returns your smile easily; something about hearing you speak about your profession with such gratification has him buzzing.“Speaking of which,” he says, sneaking a mouthful of cookie between words, “I took Harris to the supermarket yesterday. And when we passed by the seafood section, he points to a sign, sounds out cuh-ahh-d, and goes, ‘that says cod!’”

“That’s incredible! Look at our little reader go!” You could jump out of your seat with excitement, held back only by the desire to not go overboard in your display of enthusiasm.

Eddie nods in agreement. “I was so proud, I damn near bought all of the candy in the store.” He cocks his head, amusement tugging the corners of his lips upwards. “Any idea where he learned how to read like that?”

“Not a clue.” You try to force a deadpan expression to reinforce the sarcasm in your remark, but your happiness betrays you in the form of a giggle. You clap a hand over your mouth, but he reaches out to pull it down, keeping your fingers clasped with his.

He strokes his thumb over your knuckles, watching the digit sweep back and forth for a moment. “You really are pretty, y’know.” The admission feels like a weight has been both removed from and added to his shoulders. Now you know how he feels, but now you know how he feels.

You, meanwhile, are far less fixated on his vulnerability and focus instead on his phrasing. The opportunity has presented itself so perfectly, and you have to seize it.

“Like a princess?” Your eyes gleam with playfulness.

“Wha–oh, Christ.” Eddie’s features shift from confusion to embarrassment over the span of a second. “What did that kid tell you?”

“Not a lot,” you say nonchalantly, taking an innocent swig of coffee. It’s cooled down considerably, but you’ve never been one to let a drop of caffeine go to waste. “Just that you think I’m ‘pretty like a princess.’”

Eddie uses his free hand to rub his eyes, swiping his thumb and forefinger across the lids. “What a little snitch.”

“It’s true, then?” You perch your chin in your hand, batting your eyelashes and reveling in his awkwardness. His cheeks flush red and a nervous chuckle splices the silence between you.

“To be fair,” he finally counters, trying to gather his thoughts before they scatter again, “I was asked if I thought you were pretty like a princess. I didn’t, like, come up with that on my own.”

You purse your lips into a pout, feigning disappointment. “So you don’t think I’m pretty like a princess?”

“N-No, you are!” He takes a deep breath and composes himself as he notices you trying to hold in your laughter. “All right, which would you prefer? We talking trading your fins for legs or losing your glass slipper at a ball?”

“Neither,” you chide, scratching at the base of your neck absentmindedly. “More like…bookworm who rescues people in need no matter what the personal cost and captures the heart of the town outcast.” You hope that he doesn’t take offense to that last part, as true as it might be.

“So…Belle?” Eddie chuckles when you raise your eyebrows at him. “What? I have a little ankle biter, I know Disney movies.”

“Harris would never bite your ankles,” you scoff, grinning at the mere thought of the littlest Munson gnawing at the bottom of his dad’s legs mid-tantrum. “He’d just lock you out of the house until he gets what he wants.”

Eddie lifts his half-drank cup of coffee. “I’ll drink to that,” he agrees, and you gently knock your mug into his. The porcelain rims make a slight clink as they touch, echoes muffled by the chipped edges.

“So,” you start, allowing yourself to swim in his deep brown eyes for a beautiful moment before you pivot the conversation. “Why did you move to Chicago? Why not, like, LA or New York?”

He shrugs, wiping the residue of a coffee mustache from his upper lip. “Guess I wanted to stay kinda close to home. In case something happened to Wayne, or the music thing didn’t work out, or,” he smiles wryly, “if I knocked up a groupie and needed help raising a newborn.”

You press your lips together to stifle a giggle of your own, careful not to smudge whatever’s left of the lipstick you meticulously applied earlier. “So you moved back after Harris was born?”

“Yeah, when he was about…” Eddie silently does the math in his head, “a month old? Six weeks, maybe? When I realized that the whole ‘parenting’ thing is a hell of a lot harder than I thought. Especially doing it alone.” He drops his voice to a whisper as though he’s about to divulge a great secret. “Did you know that babies wake up, like, every half hour?”

“You don’t say?” Sarcasm is thickly woven into your tone. “Tell me more, Dr. Spock.”

Eddie snatches the muffin from your plate and takes an unprompted bite in retaliation. He chews like a cow on cud, slow and deliberate, relishing in his baked good thievery. You watch, unblinking, as a smirk crosses his face. “All right, smartass,” he snorts once he finally swallows, “not all of us specialize in taking care of kids.” He breaks off a hunk of his cookie and leaves it on your plate, a delicious peace offering that you gladly accept. “Anyway, Wayne let us stay with him until I found a place. Took a while to build up some funds, but I finally managed.”

“Where were you working?”

His face blanches at your question, and he finds himself inclined to bunch the paper napkin into a ball and shove it in his mouth to avoid answering. “Wh-What?”

“You said you had to build up some funds,” you explain, as though it were a convoluted construct. “Were you at the music store back then?”

“Oh, um. No.” Quicksand. Volcano eruption. A piano falling from the sky like in a classic Roadrunner and Wile E. Coyote showdown. Eddie would’ve taken any of these options over giving you an answer. “I went back to my old high school gig of, uh, dealing.” His cheeks are beet red, the heat radiating from them is the only distraction from the shame curdling in his lungs.

He keeps his eyes on the floor; to his surprise, your feet remain planted on the ground. You’re not leaving. “Oh.” Your voice draws him back to reality. “But you don’t…”

“Nope.” Eddie shakes his head. “I’m totally done with that scene. It’s just minimum wage, on-the-books bullshit for me now. I even pay taxes.” He laughs when you roll your eyes. “Although…the manager is transferring to another store soon.”

You slam your hands on the table in excitement, eyes alight with joy at this new opportunity for him. “Eddie, you have to apply!” Your eagerness fades when you notice the frown on his face. Shit, did he think you were telling him what to do? “I’m sorry if–”

“Nah, you’re good.” He bites his thumbnail without thinking, withdrawing it from between his front teeth when he sees you watching him. “‘S not like I haven’t considered it. Just feels like…if I do that, I’m officially giving up on the whole rockstar dream. Like I’m closing that chapter of my life.”

This time, you’re the one who holds onto him. His palm is pressed flat on the Formica table, and you bring your fingers underneath it to scoop his hand into yours. You give it a quick squeeze, watching a delicate smile develop across his lips. “Is that necessarily a bad thing, though? You’re not giving up on anything; you’re just shifting your priorities to make sure that Harris is always number one.” He nods halfheartedly, but you continue. “And you can always get back into music, find another band, or…maybe even make up with the Corroded Coffin guys?”

Eddie sighs, taking a strand of hair that’s fallen from its rubber band enclosure and tucking it behind his right ear. “Yeah. Maybe.” He doesn’t quite believe it; not after the terrible things he said to Jeff. Not after Gareth said he doesn’t look up to him anymore. A Corroded Coffin reunion seems about as likely as Wayne becoming a Radio City Rockette. He clears his throat and shifts his gaze back to you. “This is, uh, not first date conversation.”

You laugh at this, nodding in agreement. “No, it most certainly isn’t.” You use your free hand to take a final swig of coffee, now on the cooler side of lukewarm. “But I don’t think you and I have done anything conventionally, so it seems to be par for the course.”

Eddie shifts in his seat to lean in closer. He’s heard your response, but he’s not accepting it. Just because things began backwards didn’t mean they had to continue that way. “Tell me about you,” he says. “What do you like to do for fun? Like, hobbies and stuff.”

Your mind goes blank, as though you’ve never enjoyed any activity in your life. “Hmm,” you ponder, trying to remember a moment that wasn’t spent lesson planning or breaking up big arguments between small humans or taking care of an elderly woman who couldn’t stand you half the time. “I really love to cook,” you finally manage, thinking of the hours when you and Grandma stood in her kitchen, preparing meals or snacks or baked goods to munch on.

“No shit!” Eddie blurts out, eyes widening. “I really love to eat.”

“I’ll have to cook for you sometime,” you tell him. Surprisingly, you’re not shy when you say it. The image of you standing before the stove, stirring a pot on a burner or taking a tray of roasted vegetables from the oven while Eddie and Harris set the kitchen table, warms you from the inside out. You express your love by making meals for others, just like Grandma does. Did. “Your favorite food is olives, right?”

Eddie rolls his eyes playfully, crossing his arms over his chest and sitting back in his seat. He opens his legs slightly as he bites the inside of his lower lip to hide his smile. “I hate you sometimes, y’know that?”

“Yeah, I hate you, too.”

As soon as you and Eddie step out of the little cafe hand in hand, the bitter slap of winter is all-consuming. Snow flurries flutter to the ground, melting as soon as they touch the faded green grass. The coldness of the flakes stings the tip of your nose, and you wiggle it to try to ward off the impending numbness.

Eddie breaks the connection to dig out a crumpled pack of cigarettes from one pocket and his lighter from the other. He flicks the switch a few times before it finally catches as he shields the flame from the harsh winds. As soon as it does, he tucks the lighter away and immediately re-laces his left fingers with your right, taking a long drag and offering it out to you with a grin.

“Since you’re just a social smoker and don’t keep any on you,” he says with a twinkle in his eyes. You wonder how he could possibly know this until memories of that fateful night at the Hideout come roaring back to you. You and Eddie standing outside, making painfully awkward small talk while you figured out how to initiate a sexual encounter.

You inhale, letting the tobacco mingle with the taste of coffee and muffin already saturating your tongue, and pass the cigarette back to him. It’s a slow walk to his car; the two of you take your time as you breathe in smoke and each other’s closeness. Eddie lets you kill out the cigarette, eyes never leaving your body as you stub it into a nearby ashtray.

“I have a little confession to make,” he begins, quickly amending his statement when he catches the horrified expression on your face. “No, nothing bad; I swear!” He laughs lightly when you exhale, pressing your hand to your heart in relief. “Okay, the reason I took you out for coffee is because, well, I figured if things went well, I’d know your coffee order and could bring it to you at work or something? Like when I drop Harris off in the morning.”

The early December chill dissipates at his offer. Just the thought of Eddie memorizing your coffee order, handing you the styrofoam cup with a chaste kiss to your cheek so that none of your students or co-workers can catch you, fills you with a buzzing warmth. “I’d really like that.”

“Good,” Eddie nods, stopping at his parked car. You spot Harris’s carseat in the back, reminding you of the night Eddie drove you to his place after his show. The way he tried to hide the existence of his son from you, as though it would deter you from pursuing anything further. You can’t help but wonder how many women had turned him down after learning that he’s a dad. It has to be a decent amount, a pattern that developed, for him to become so jaded and guarded over it.

His calloused thumb ghosts over your cheek, though you can hardly feel it after being exposed to the stinging air. His gaze meets yours and he holds it, chocolate orbs fueling the fire within you.

“Feels weird asking to kiss you after we’ve already…” he trails off with a chuckle, tone laced with ambivalence. The last time he’d pressed his lips to yours, he didn’t want to stop, which scared the living shit out of him. And that was under the pretense of casual sex, not intended to go any farther than a one-night stand. But now? Now he was about to kiss you after a date, after telling you that you look pretty, after admitting that planned to get you coffee in the mornings.

If he kisses you now, there’s no going back.He’s sealing the deal, opening himself up to heartbreak, the potential to be crushed when the relationship comes to a screeching halt.

But, he reminds himself silently, it also means someone to watch movies with. Someone to buy flowers–or coffee–for. Someone to hold, to touch. Someone to share stories with, from the mundane tasks of the day to big, exciting news. Someone who I could love, who could love me and my boy.

“Eddie?” Your voice breaks into his mind, overrun with racing thoughts about the good, the bad, and the ugly of falling in–

You bring your lips to his, effectively silencing his inner monologue. His right hand stays on your face as his left grips your waist to return the kiss, deepening it with a gentle prod of his tongue. It’s wanting, but not hungry, like he’s savoring every last bite of a long-time craving. He wants this, he wants you, forever. He swears he’d never let you go if he didn’t have an oversugared, overtired four-year-old to attend to.

“You are…” he murmurs, nudging his nose with yours, but he has no idea how to end the sentence. Perfect? Mine? The one for me? “...the best.” It feels like a cop-out, but he doesn’t want to come on too strong. The irony is not lost on him that he had no problem spewing insults at you, but hesitates when it comes to affection.

“The best coffee date?” you tease, resting your hands on his chest. The sweater’s scratchy wool itches your palms, and you can’t imagine he’ll make it ten steps through the door before changing into one of his signature band tees.

“Yes. No. Yes.” He kisses your nose, an electric spark flying between you. “But also just…the best.” His fingers clasp around the door handle as he begrudgingly opens your door, not wanting the date to end. “Shall I take you home?”

No, you think, biting back your protest. No, take me to your place. Kiss me more, kiss me deeper, kiss me where the curve of my hips meets the plush of my thighs. Let me help you with your sweater; you’ll be so much more comfortable without it, Eddie.

“Okay,” you manage, sliding into your seat. He closes the door once you’re inside, jogging around to his side with a breathy chuckle.

“Gotta keep warm,” he says, turning the key in the ignition. The car rumbles to life, and as soon as he’s out of his parking spot, he takes your hand once again. Your intertwined fingers rest atop the gearshift for the entire drive to your building.

He turns off the car and faces you. “Let me walk you in.” Five simple words that ordinarily would preface sex; Eddie doesn’t think he’s ever uttered them in that order without at least the anticipation of getting laid. But there’s none of that now. He just wants to spend as much time with you as he can, before the spell is broken and he turns back into a pumpkin. Could the prince turn back into the Beast? he wonders wryly.

You cock your brow. “You sure about that? What if Grandma’s gotten herself into more trouble?”

“I’m willing to take that risk.” And he is. He’d risk everything, and for the first time in a long while, he’s not running from that feeling.

Luckily, there’s no crisis when you and Eddie arrive on your doorstep. You trade a few more giggle-laced kisses before you finally part.

The stars align on Monday morning, with Harris actually cooperating and getting ready with enough time for Eddie to stop off at the cafe to get your coffee. Okay, letting him have a Pop-Tart for breakfast instead of cereal definitely helped the situation, but it was a special occasion! And it’s not like he could tell Harris that he needed to pick up coffee for Ms. Sweetheart; the kid would be hiring caterers for a wedding if he knew.

Eddie had wanted to call you on Sunday, maybe see if you wanted to go to the playground with him and Harris and get some ice cream afterwards, but he’d ultimately decided against it. Give it some time; don’t be too eager.

It occurs to him that bringing you coffee is something that a boyfriend would do, and he hasn’t actually asked you to be his girlfriend yet. Do adults do that? Or is it just kinda implied? Shit, maybe I can take her out again this weekend and ask, just to be sure.

He gives Harris a hug and a kiss goodbye, careful not to spill any of the hot beverage as he crouches down to his height. Jitters course through his veins as he approaches your classroom, but he knows that the joy on your face–either from his kind gesture or the prospect of caffeine–will make it all worth it.

When he gets there, he only sees Will. He can’t stick around long; he doubts his boss will accept trying to impress my maybe-girlfriend as a valid excuse for tardiness.

“Hey, Byers,” Eddie calls out with a wave, pointing to the cup. “I’m just gonna leave this on her desk, if that’s cool.” He spots a black Sharpie and is about to use it to write Date night on Friday? when he catches Will’s expression. It’s a combination of confusion and sadness, with his brows pinching together as he walks over to Eddie.

Will shoves his hands in his pants pockets. “Um, she’s not coming in today. Probably not for the rest of the week.”

“Is she okay?” Worry mars Eddie’s confidence, and the sense of dread only worsens when Will quietly ushers him to the corner of the room away from the kids. “Is she sick or something?” he adds once the students are out of earshot. Will looks up at Eddie, though the height gap has decreased considerably since he was a freshman and Eddie was working through his third senior year. His eyes are shiny with tears, and he blinks them back and clears his throat. “Eddie…” he says softly, “her grandma died last night.”

taglist:

@kelsiegrin @lma1986 @munsonology @stuckontheceiling @avobabe87 @eddapwinchester @peachysink @browneyes8288 @jeremyspoke-inclasstoday

@breezybeesposts @wednesdaymunson @feltonswifesworld87 @take-everything-you-can @bebe07011 @81rain @dylanmunson @oscarisaacwhore @eddiesguitarskills @everheart12 @etherealglimmer @hollster88 @wh0re4life @siriuslysmoking

@bibieddiesgf @winchester-angel @starlitlakes @avalon-wolf @hazydespair @josephquinncore @daydreaminglisa @sidthedollface2 @eddiebaemunson @mandyjo8719 @daydreaming-mood @aol19 @corkadymu @starcourtnights

@rockstarmunsons @metalhead-succubus @boinkybarness @oohworldofpisces @costellation-hunter @toobsessedsstuff @meadow20 @theweasleyskettle @lost-in-the-stars03 @elizabethmidnight2017 @aysheashea

@chamomileh0ney @dream-a-little-nightmare @emma77645 @kurdtbean @sheneedsrocknroll92 @tlclick73 @lolly-in-a-strange-land @bakugouswh0r3

@strangerthingsstories5255 @adaydreamaway08 @itsalltaken @harmfulb1tch @mimischaos @averagemisfit03 @steddiegarbage @vigilanteshit @ellendemeyer152 @sierrahhh @hiscrimsonangel @mrsjellymunson @idkatee

@quentinswife @eddiesguitarskills @momowhoo @jasminelafleur @mmunson86 @mcueveryday @augustsgetawaycar @let-love-bleeds-red @inesven @tanyaherondale

#eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #tui

1K notes · View notes

cottonlemonade · 6 months

Text

Plan B

word count: 1015 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post-time skip!Kuroo x chubby!Reader

genre: fluff, pining

warnings: none

synopsis: he is trying to convince you to go out with him

The café was in its typical morning lull when you came in. After the coffee rush of the business crowd and students on their way to class there were now only a few people seated comfortably around the small round tables, chatting idly and enjoying a piece of quiet in the hustle of a new Monday. This was your favorite time of the day. The early spring sun was shining happily through the large front windows, making the dark wooden walls appear as if dipped in honey. The smell of freshly brewed coffee mixing with the soothing scent of cookies, all amidst the faint sound of traffic humming underneath the soft clanking of spoons gave you a deep sense of calm.

After the daily round of hellos and how-are-yous, you put on your black apron and got to work in the kitchen, starting on the preparations for lunch.

“Manager?”, an hour later as you just put the finishing touches on a batch of orange drizzle muffins, one of your baristas poked his head through the door and gave you a look. You sighed and joined him in the front by the cash register. Sure enough the tall man waited for you, a wide grin across his handsome face.

“No.”, you told him before he even got the chance to say anything.

“And good morning to you, too.”

“No.”, you said again, beginning to prepare his usual order of simple green tea.

“Just one cup of coffee, we don’t even have to leave the premises.”

“400 yen, please.”

He counted out a small stack of coins on the counter and crossed his arms.

“Where is your cheer squad today?”, you asked, referring to his usual companions of a broad guy with spiky gray hair and a smaller one whose smile rivaled the sun in brightness. Needlessly supervising the last drops of hot water in the to-go cup, you made sure to add the exact amount of tea leaves to a little bag, just so you didn't have to look at him and his ridiculously confident smirk.

“Eh, I think they got tired of you rejecting me.”

“Interesting, any chance that’ll happen to you, too?”

“Sure, I’ll stop”, he slid over to where you were finishing up his order and lowered his voice, “when you stop blushing whenever I ask you out.”

He accepted his order with a wink. “Thank you. See you tomorrow.”

When the door closed behind him, you found your barista leaning against a counter with a cocked eyebrow.

“That makes seven!”, he announced, pointing to a small blackboard on the back wall where you usually wrote down the groceries needed that week. In the lower left hand corner he and the rest of the staff had begun to keep a tally of how often the guy had asked you out so far.

Seven times in three weeks. You smiled against your better judgment. You knew not to take him too seriously. Knew it was just a game to him. When he came in for the first time you had almost dropped a mug, because how could someone look this casually seductive?!

It wasn’t that you didn’t have the urge to say Yes just for the hell of it. But you weren't in the mood to be a short-lived plaything for a guy who probably only thought chubbies were easy. And thus began a regular routine of rejecting him. You didn’t know whether you actually wanted him to stop or if saying No to him had just become a reflex. A wise one probably.

Kuroo groaned and gently hit his head against his desk. Of course the thought that he might be an actual creep for asking you out so much had occurred to him but when he made his initial attempt, you had said Yes at first before immediately changing your answer to No. How on earth could he prove to you that he wasn‘t kidding when he told you that you were on his mind all day? Your smile, your voice, your exceptionally squishable body all brought new amounts of cute-aggression into his life.

At this point he was running out of options. Maybe… maybe he should just wait until you approached him instead - if you ever would, that was. He needed a new idea.

And so, one misguided day, he listened in on the gossip of his coworkers who talked about what mundane things they found attractive in a guy. And that’s how we got here:

Kuroo sat at a large four seater table in the corner of your café. Papers were strewn about, magazines lay open for references. He had loosened his tie and opened the top two buttons of his crisp white shirt; his reading glasses were pushed back onto his nose in regular intervals. It was warmer today. So warm that he had discarded his jacket and rolled up his sleeves, wristwatch glinting in the soft glow of the afternoon sun. He gave a little frown and absentmindedly bit his bottom lip as he consulted one of the articles, sometimes silently mouthing along to paragraphs he read, twirling the pen in his long fingers. He lifted a page to read the next, making a note on a separate sheet, the muscles in his forearm taut while he wrote.

He looked up at nowhere in particular, then closed his eyes and stretched his tired neck, the open shirt tightening around his broad shoulders, the line of his jaw highlighted by the golden light beaming through the large windows…

"Sir.", a waitress stepped professionally to the table, a towel neatly tucked in the waist cord of her apron, hands politely folded in front of her stomach.

"Yes?"

"The manager isn’t here today."

His cheeks started to burn, "Why- I mean… what?"

"And while we do appreciate what you do for the ambiance", a subtle gesture pointed out the girls, women and the barista staring, some even holding up their phone camera, giggling behind their hands, "this isn’t a library, so please order something or free the table."

"…O-of course."

[part 2]

#kuroo x chubby reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo x reader #kuroo tetsuro x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo testuro #haikyuu kuroo #kuroo tetsurou #chubby reader #what an idiot #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x curvy reader

281 notes · View notes

saetoru · 9 months

Text

this blog is now archived !! find my MASTERLIST here !!

hi guys, and here’s a long overdue post that i wanted to take the time to make after collecting as many screenshots as i can for a lot of rumors that i think need to be addressed. before i do that, i wanted to apologize to all of my mutuals who ended up wrongfully harassed in their inboxes for simply knowing me—the irony of this issue being about bullying all the while people on this app have been simultaneously being genuinely awful to other writers who have zero involvement has been ridiculous.

i would’ve made this post sooner, but december was very busy—as you all know, i’ve been working with two separate companies for my capstone projects, and i had final presentations with boards to worry about. and then a cruise which was fun, but i was offline. now that i’ve finally had time to enjoy my break and collect my thoughts, i’d like to voice my own side to the discourse i’m sure you’ve all seen posted by @/garoujo, who is now @/gojoath.

first and foremost, i’ve been on tumblr for almost 4 years now, and while i may not have the brightest moments on here (no one will be spot-free in that amount of time), i’d like to think that if i actually went out of my way to vicious or bully people, this would’ve come to people’s attention a lot sooner. i’ve had a relatively large following across all 6 of my blogs in my time here, and while i don’t like to get into the metrics of my blogs, the reason i point this out is because i have willingly started my blog over 6 times. 3 of these were sfw blogs under my nickname tee, another 2 of which were my previous nsfw blogs under a different alias, and saetoru which is the current one, where i finally decided to combine my sfw and nsfw writing into one space. i just wanted to bring that up because i had quite a habit of leaving and restarting blogs before this one, and had i been obsessed with outperforming other writers in terms of follower counts, i would not have left the previous ones as often as i did.

that being said, i’ll also go through a timeline of events and how they’ve snowballed into an issue that is not as one-sided as most of you might think. i’ve been mutuals with emmie since my first blog, and i’d been mutuals with her through most of her blogs as well. we’ve never really had issues until her last blog @/garoujo, which she’d started after deactivating @/atsymu due to discourse regarding racism accusations. the reason why we had a falling out was because i felt that there were a series of odd coincidences that felt slightly purposeful, but i was still questioning whether or not i was looking too deeply into it to actually point any of it out.

admittedly, when i saw her first set of banners, i felt our layouts were a slight bit similar, but i really didn’t mind too much because i had been planning to change my banners anyway because i was bored of them. so i took that as an opportunity to do so. it just so happened that within a day or two of every time i changed my banners, hers would be changed too—i never said i owned the color gray, and i even fully acknowledge that the last two sets of banners, at first glance, wouldn’t be a red flag. because, like i said, i was more uncomfortable with the pattern of coincidences than the actual layouts. then i switched to my instagram theme, and not long after, i noticed her add instagram story visuals to her navi. again, no one ever said instagram was my original idea, and that no one else could use it, but it was an unsettling feeling having the same moot continuously make changes around the same time as you, and changes that are different enough that you can’t exactly point out an issue, but slightly similar enough that you can’t exactly ignore the slight oddness.

coincidentally, the same day, another blog (who i will not name bc they’re not very active anymore and are also not very relevant to this story) made the same theme as me and i was a bit peeved because this same blog is someone who has copied a few other things from me and a handful of other moots, so i made a subpost on my moots-only personal blog at the time. keep in mind, i made this post fully aware that emmie was on this blog because i didn’t intend for that post to seem like it was about her. but she reached out to me, and i explained to her the situation, and i even provided the relevant screenshots to show my points. i still considered her a decently good friend at the time, and even with the slightly off feelings, i was still adamant about brushing them off and considering them coincidences that perhaps i was being a bit too critical of.

it wasn’t until i woke up a few hours later after changing my theme and going to bed that i noticed she’d then fully switched to the insta theme. again, instagram is an app used by millions and, at one point, was a very popular theme used amongst most people on this app. i’m not entitled enough to believe i was the first person to do it, but like i said. there are just off vibes most of us will not help but feel when a series of coincidences continue to happen back to back to back by the same person.

there were, amongst these things, a number of other small touches that made me feel off. most of them i don’t remember by now or have screenshots of, so i won’t bother to go into all of them, but for reference, one example i’d also like to point out that i’d had the phrase “you’ve reached the hanmas” in my inbox when she was still on @/atsymu, and sometime after, her sfw blog @/loveatsu had the phrase “you’ve reached the miyas.” small things like this are not things i make an issue over and am more than capable of brushing aside, but like i have said and will continue to push firmly is that i felt there were multiple instances of emmie, in particular, making small tweaks to her blog shortly after me that made me feel were not all coincidentally similar. the issue was never themes or thinking i am the first or only person to do something a certain way, the issue has always been me countless times feeling that one particular individual is exhibiting a behavior that is persistent and uncomfortable no matter how minuscule the instances may be. maybe they were really just unfortunate coincidences that happened with poor timing, or maybe they weren’t. but i stand by the fact that anyone in my shoes would be valid to question the timing of each of these events over and over again.

i would also like to bring up kinktober (though this happened a while after the rest of what i will get into) because this was the first public discourse that emmie and i got into due to an anon’s claims of similarities between our posts. i had received an anon who told me “i think someone copied your kinktober masterlist” which i answered to ask if they could let me know who. they had come back to say it was garoujo, and i did not reply to the ask, instead, i made a post to vaguely tell the anon that i appreciate them letting me know, but i will just leave it be and continue on with my kinktober regardless of emmie’s mlist. i do think there were some vague similarities, but honestly not enough to really question it, so i figured a confrontation or issue was not necessary. a while later, several moots had messaged me to let me know they had received anonymous asks saying to “block @/garoujo she copied @/sakusins and she’ll copy you too” (or something along those lines, i don’t remember exactly.) i myself was very confused (and upset) by the situation because i did not, and still would not, want to be publicly name-dropped in other people’s inboxes over issues that do not involve them. unfortunately, it led to some not-very-kind asks to both of us, and while i am sorry she had to deal with that, it is not an apology from a sense of culpability. that situation was, and still is, entirely out of my control. i would not have seen the masterlist unless the anon had mentioned it, and i did not take part in having people send asks about her to other writers. especially not in a manner that was pretty much social suicide for me as well.

(this is a poorly made collage i know lol but i hit the picture limit bear with me here.)

i would also like to point out that i am not the only individual who has had issues with emmie and feels she had copied them. although i cannot disclose urls (they have been blocked out for privacy reasons) here are a few conversations i have had with my own mutuals, and i would wager there are more people whom i haven’t talked to who also feel this way. they might be small enough instances that sparking issues over them was not worth it to all of these people, therefore she has never heard from people herself about this issue, but the point does still stand that this claim about emmie is not one i alone make, and is one that i have heard countless times before. her never being approached by these individuals for the sake of peace doesn’t erase that they have been, and are, upset by these events, and it’s a habit that she seems to continually partake in. i would also like to link this post where she has been called out by another writer while she was still atsymu, which was posted while we were still friends. i’ve actually had a discussion with emmie about that post, and at the time, i had quickly skimmed the post and felt it was perhaps a reach, but after my own experiences, i went back to reread the post and considered perhaps there was validity to it, and that this might not be a one time occurrence. plagiarism in manners such as this will always have conflicting opinions, and it is hard to sometimes tell if something is a coincidence, a popular and overused idea, or something that has actually been copied. my point is that a number of people have all felt that perhaps there is a good chance this was not an accident, and please consider that so many instances of people feeling this way might suggest that there is a certain degree of validity to the claim.

at the beginning of all of this, when the masterlist banners had first started bothering me, i was upset, and i chose to vent to an ex-moot of mine who most of you would recognize as munsonsins. abby has deactivated a long while ago, but she’s relevant to this because i had chosen to vent to her at the time, and this is more or less what later caused this situation to escalate. at the time of venting to her, i knew she wasn’t mutuals with emmie because, as you can see, she’d told me as such.

one thing i would like to point out is that there were a handful of people i had vented to about my frustrations with emmie, but one thing i had always been mindful of was ensuring these were a) individuals who i considered close friends and not just random individuals, and b) were not friends or moots with emmie in the event that i accidentally made people who she cared about think lesser of her. had abby been mutuals with emmie, i would not have shared my feelings, and once again, i was not loose-lipped enough to just tell anyone because they’d listen. i told abby in particular because i had felt we were sufficiently close individuals who talked one-on-one and were able to vent to each other. a bit after i vented to her, though, she befriended emmie, which i had no such issues with because abby was/is her own person and is an adult who can interact freely and befriend whoever she wanted/wants to.

not long after that, on the night before eid (this detail is relevant in the future) an ex moot of mine @/kazuwhora reached out to me. if you guys remember, there was a discourse last year that was all over dash about how writers on this app should be open to criticism. a lot of people (including me and kc) were upset by that sentiment—which is still valid. please don’t give constructive criticism to writers without their explicit permission !! but regardless, kc sent me a screenshot of a mutual of mine who had posted their opinion on this discourse, and their point was clearly that while constructive criticism is important in some aspects, writers do not have to be subject to receiving it should they not want to. unfortunately, i felt as if kc misunderstood what this individual was trying to say, and i was trying to explain it to her, but we got into a small argument over how we interpreted the post. i felt some of the things she was saying about this individual were inappropriate, and i had made it clear that i was very fond of this person, and it made me uncomfortable to be having this discussion. regardless of whether she saw my interpretation of the post or not, i wanted to drop the discussion, especially because it was the night before eid. eid is the one holiday i celebrate, and there are traditions i quite enjoy the night before, and i didn’t want them to be spoiled with a poor mood over a silly argument. unfortunately, she wasn’t very willing to drop the topic, and it ended up making me upset. so i posted this screenshot to my moots only personal from the conversation that consisted of my messages only and said, “tonight i had to explain what a debate is.” it was petty, perhaps, but very harmless, seeing as there was no context given and no names/pfps to indicate who the person was.

truthfully, i had vented separately to cat, eris, and abby about this argument because i was friends with the three of them at the time, but needless to say, venting to your friends about arguments is a universal action, and i believe it is something all of us have partaken in.

eventually, i decided to softblock emmie because i felt it would be more comfortable for me on my blog to do so. after a bit, i was informed of a subpost that seemed like it couldn’t be about anyone other than me—to make things clear, emmie subposting me was not my concern. i did not hold it against her because she is more than entitled to have her own feelings and vents on her own blog, but the thing that did concern me was that it seemed slightly evident that she was aware of my feelings when i had never explicitly had a conversation with her. it made me question who would tell her, and as you may have guessed, the only person with whom i had shared my concerns who could also be in contact with emmie was abby.

at the time, eris had also voiced concerns that they had trusted abby with the ending of the plot for the diluc series they were planning, and coincidentally, one of abby’s friends had posted a fic idea eerily similar to their concept, to which abby had been commenting and reblogging more brainstormed ideas under. all of these ideas were very close to the plans eris had for their series plot, and understandably, they felt that it was not a mere coincidence that their entire plot was being brainstormed on dash by a person who was fully aware of their outline. i’d voiced my concerns with believing that abby may have also been sharing things i trusted her with, and as a result we both had made a few vague subposts that we liked from each other—a petty behavior, i will admit, but not something that i think is very out of the norm for a lot of people on this app. sometimes, we all just want to vent out our frustrations, and because we all more or less use tumblr as an outlet, these can sometimes be vaguely taken to dash. it’s not something that is ideally recommended (i’ve learned the hard way) but it’s also ?? not exactly something that only i’m guilty of, or is even a rare behavior. i think to shoot down one person for this behavior is quite frankly hypocritical. again, subposting isn’t a habit i would like to push as mature but it’s something i’d like to point out is very normal in this community, and is not something only i take part in. beyond that, i take to ensuring that whenever i do, i’m not explicitly exposing who i’m talking about in order to keep them out of unnecessary issues.

after this conversation with eris, it kind of solidified in my mind that i did not want to trust abby with any more personal vents, or information, and i had ultimately decided to soft block her too. i had also decided to take the opportunity to softblock kc as well because i figured i might as well just remove individuals who i felt made me uncomfortable. this is, again, my right to do so to curate my own space. not long after, cat, eris, and i had been softblocked/hardblocked by a number of moots, and we were a bit confused, until cat ended up having a conversation with kc. many accusations were made about all three of us, more specifically, about me to kc by abby because the two of them had been discussing that they’d both been softblocked by me recently.

the list of accusations we were told of is as follows:

me, cat, and eris have a “burn book” where we “blacklist people.” it’s important to note that every time this discourse resurfaces (this is now the fourth time), the “burn book” has fundamentally changed in its composition—it has changed from a discord server “burn book”, to a google doc “burn book”, to the current rumor that it was an entire blog that was used as a “burn book.” it is consistently changed to fit whatever narrative is trying to be pushed, and regardless, the rumor itself is entirely untrue and has been addressed multiple times. cat has had a tumblr theme, a collab theme, and a server theme all dedicated to the film mean girls. she simply had a channel that was to share the urls of minors to block for interacting with nsfw works, or people who were anti-dark content—this is something that i have seen in all servers i’ve been in during my time on tumblr, and is not a new concept for many of you either. it’s simply a precaution a lot of servers take to warn writers about potential minors to block, and potential anti-dark content harassers. the name of this channel happened to be “the burn book” because it was a mean girls themed server, so the name just fit. nowhere in this channel were other writers in the community “blacklisted” or spoken negatively of, and here are the screenshots of the channel. this was simply something abby had twisted in order to paint us negatively. here is the link to cat’s post addressing it for proof and explanation (i run out of pictures or i would include them myself.)

abby also claimed that i was using this channel to talk poorly about kc and a handful of other moots. this is also false bc this server had several strangers (as it was cat’s server and i didn’t know all her moots), but it also had several of kc’s mutuals/friends in this server as well. i’m not so dense as to talk poorly about other writers publicly in a server, let alone a server i know has people who are friends with kc

now, this next part, emmie has conveniently painted out to be about me, as i apparently harassed and blacklisted people for liking itto from genshin impact, but i have been playing genshin for over a year on this app, and quite a large number of you are my own followers who see my rambles and my writing and i don’t have to explain that i have never written for itto, nor explicitly expressed an interest in him apart from perhaps one or two posts from back when i did his story quest. i never had, and still to this day, have no interest in the character itto. i’ve skipped his banner, i plan to skip his upcoming banners should they come, and i have never written for him, nor do i plan to write for him. this issue with itto is between eris and another individual, and i do not have the details to this, as i was new friends with eris at the time, and i’m no longer friends with eris as of current time. quite frankly, even if i knew the details, i wouldn’t go out of my way to share them because it has nothing to do with me. plain and simple.

as you can see, there were a number of rumors spread here to kc by abby, and as you can see, all of which led me to seem quite vicious in character. i’ve provided, to the best of my ability, screenshots and receipts of why each of these is quite drastically out of context and far from true to what abby has claimed.

i did in fact, after these events confront abby because i was genuinely appalled by the way she knowingly and purposely twisted things conveniently to villainize me. she expressed that she was upset and paranoid by the subposts that she figured were about her once i’d soft blocked her, so i apologized for the posts. she had conversations with both me and cat about the rumors she’d started, and she also apologized for them to both me and cat.

the rumors that emmie has claimed about me in her post, which she conveniently provided no evidence of, are all rumors that are more or less a result of my differences with abby and kc. unfortunately, despite cat trying her best to explain to kc the falseness of most of these rumors, she didn’t really believe them—which is her business. to each their own. i’m sure if i had been in kc’s shoes and in one night, someone i had considered a friend had been painted to do a series of nasty things behind my back, i also would not know what’s true and untrue, and she is entitled to piecing together what she believes is her truth. what’s not fair, however, is for emmie to have no involvement/understanding of these events apart from a twisted narrative she heard from one person and dog pile them into her claims of my behavior to further paint me as a villain. emmie is more than entitled to have her beliefs on my character based on her own experiences, which she has provided her own evidence of, but simply slapping an “and i heard she also….” does not necessarily make claims true, and is very manipulatively thrown into the post to add a list of things that make my character questionable to further validate her point.

not only this, but she has made a point to openly admit that she and her friends have collectively mocked me for my relationship with my ex-boyfriend, who they have apparently labeled as my “fake” boyfriend that i used to get attention on this app. quite plainly, i get enough attention on my blog that i don’t need a fake boyfriend to amp that up. but furthermore, i am a south asian, muslim individual. my parents are immigrants with very strict religious and cultural beliefs that i feel are very restricting at times, and though i love my family, i struggle with my identity quite a bit as i live in a very western culture that clashes quite a bit with my cultural norms. i do not get to freely explore my sexuality or even romantic life in general, unlike some of you. my parents have been kept in the dark about my relationship because them knowing about it is something that could quite literally create a rift between us, and i find it very insulting and almost suspicious that a white girl is making a mockery of my cultural struggles and my personal life. many of you are either desi or muslim or simply children of strict immigrant parents with quite stubborn traditional views. i’m sure plenty of you understand where i’m coming from when i say that i have to keep my relationship hidden from the majority of the people around me. tumblr is the one place i can anonymously share bits and pieces of my life without worrying about if it will literally cost me my relationship with my parents, so sometimes i may have overshared silly or pointless things, but that is because it’s my own way of being able to express myself and my relationship the way i have always wanted to. apart from that, dragging and making a joke out of someone’s personal life is quite unnecessary in this case. the issue is about tumblr discourse, and i find it very hypocritical that i am being labeled a bully when people, more specifically a white and privileged individual, is plain and simple mocking and poking fun at my personal life and situation that i have no control of. that is my piece on that. whether some of you believe i had a partner or not is not my business, nor do i have to go out of my way to show you evidence of my personal life. what i will say, however, is that there are a handful of close friends i have on this app who are involved in my personal life and have seen evidence of my love life through pictures and private stories on social media. quite frankly, these are the only individuals who i have to justify the validity of my personal life to, and it’s honestly quite violating for someone to stoop to dragging someone’s outside life into issues about tumblr. i extend a very genuine fuck you to every single one of you that have ridiculed my personal relationship and just know that you are extremely bold to consider yourselves above bullying when this is the type of behavior you admit to engaging in. individuals with complex familial relationships, and identity struggles between cultural norms, their ethnicities, and the western world are not your playground to make a joke out of. some of us have very real struggles, such as not being able to pursue careers in favor of arranged marriages, not being able to pursue actual relationships that mean something to us due to a lack of familial approval, being forced to bear children at young ages due to familial pressure, and so on. they are not laughing matters, and are a part of my reality. and before some of you get started—yes, it really is that serious. i have struggled my entire life with having white girls poke fun and tease at my cultural norms, and i refuse to allow another white and privileged individual who already has a record of racially related discourse walk away with once more poking fun at my personal struggles and not be called out for it. i hope you had a good, long, satisfying laugh emmie.

onto my next points based on claims @/anantaru has made about me. the main thing i’d like to really point out here is that anantaru and i have never, not even once, interacted to the extent of my knowledge. they claim that cat and i cannot stand it when people cross us in numbers and that we go through people’s likes in order to find minors and blank blogs to explain all the notes. a) i am very bad at checking for minors and blanks in my own notes, so this is not even a logical approach on my end, but b) this claim is made because cat made this post under the tags of a post going around last year that asked to hear unpopular ficblr opinions.

what cat means to articulate here is that sometimes, when she is scrolling on dash and interacting with moots and their shit/talk-posts, she peeks at profiles she sees in the notes and has happened to catch minors lurking. cat, firstly, has never followed anantaru, so they are not a “victim” to cat glancing at their likes, but secondly, this is not nearly as psychotic as it’s painted out to be. cat is not, and was not, jealous of other blog's notes. quite plainly, she’s not exactly a tiny blog either, and she’s only stumbled upon minors in the talks-posts of moots, including me. shit-posts/talks-posts are easy to notice minors lurking on, and while most people recognize that it’s quite impossible to catch every minor and ageless blog in writing posts with numerous notes, a simple shit-post on dash is more simple, and her unpopular opinion was simply that blogs that grow rapidly need to be better about catching those minors because they are susceptible to having more of them lurking. it’s a really harmless sentiment, and she’s gently reminded me as well on more than one occasion to be more responsible about my habit of being lazy when scouting for minors in my interactions.

this is not out of jealousy, nor is it some sick and twisted habit she has to “explain” why people get more notes than she might get. it’s also out of a place of concern for her own content ?? i myself and plenty of other large blogs reblog from mutuals, and they are well within their right to be concerned that perhaps minors are lurking on our pages and interacting with works we reblog from our mutuals. cat has voiced this concern to me before, also out of goodwill and simple concern for my content, her content, and minors in general. there is simply no need to twist it into her viciously looking down upon large blogs and their notes counts and claiming they’re “only because they don’t block minors.” admittedly, though, i do need to be better about catching minors, and i have always appreciated her trying to keep me in the habit of being responsible about it. more importantly, it was a small passing comment under a post of unpopular opinions, a lot of them were hot takes, and this is hardly a serious one to get so heated over.

i’d also like to point out that anantaru has claimed we blocked them for being a gatekeeper and because we’re jealous of their notes. ��. a) i am very grateful and very happy with the level of interaction i get on my writing, as more people than i imagine leave me countless comments and reblogs. i have never had an issue with comparing my interaction with that of other writers because i have always been abundantly content with the interaction i get. i have no other comment on this other than cat and i blocked anantaru at the same time because we happened to see a post of theirs reblogged onto our dash that made a joke that we felt was a bit insensitive to/alluded to SA—i’m sure it wasn’t meant to be taken that way, but it made us uncomfortable regardless. while we are both dark content supporters, and i myself have read more than one fic that includes noncon in particular, it doesn’t mean we have to like/enjoy everything related to it and we simply decided to block them. i’m not going to bring this post up bc it’s simply not important. they are an adult who is more than entitled to make jokes on their blog and cat and i do not have to like them !! we simply did what we were well within our rights to do, and that’s blocking them.

there’s more they go on to say about receiving hate asks and that apparently it’s because of our “group of friends.” cat and i don’t have a group of friends. i don’t have any group chats with her besides the one with her boyfriend because i get along with him sometimes as well, and we used to play genshin together a lot when i was in low ar. not that i have to explain my friendships here, but i quite literally do not have a group of people to “send after” anantaru because people are well aware of my close friends, who i text with my personal phone number. i’ve posted silly screenshots of convos on my blog multiple times, and none of these friends overlap because i do not have a “group” of friends, just individual friends who i talk to one on one. cat is not friends with my other friends, and my other friends are not friends with her. there are no inner circles that conspire together to send anyone hate because i “tell them to.” and if there are screenshots of me explicitly encouraging someone to send hate on anon, i would love to see it. if i had sent my anons after anantaru, it would have to be a public post, and i’m sure if there were a post of such nature, it would have been brought to light by now. they have also claimed they were given multiple urls of mine to block. i only have ONE writing blog, @/saetoru, and the only other two that are still up are archived blogs @/hanmine and @/katsuphilia, which are side blogs attached to saetoru and have been inactive for several months. there are however, multiple individuals on this app who also go by the name “tee,” and perhaps we have unfortunately been mixed up as the same person, but the only blog i have is saetoru, so there is no other active blog they have blocked me from that belonged to me and was able to harass them.

not only that, but anantaru has claimed that one person off anon sent them hate with a kaeya url which they insinuate to be me. once again, you are all more than aware of my history of urls, and many of you have all been here to see them. i’ve never once had a kaeya url, nor have i ever been particularly interested in kaeya outside of a small number of posts on a rare occasion. my genshin favorites have always been characters from sumeru and, at one point diluc, and once again i don’t have to ?? explain my selfships to you all ?? but literally, i have nothing to do with a kaeya blog or kaeya account, and im unsure why it’s being thrown into my name. quite frankly, i’m not sure what their moot has told them we have said about them, but the only conversations cat and i have ever had about anantaru was that one about the noncon joke, and that’s it. outside of that, there is literally no evidence of us speaking about this person because it simply doesn’t exist.

i implore you all to, instead of starting public discourse over things you hear, confirm them first. had anantaru reached out to me or cat and expressed that they are upset that we are supposedly spreading false rumors about them gatekeeping, then whatever misunderstanding it might have been could have been cleared. i would like to also point out that it is not above bullying when you simply dump numerous accusations that you have heard through half whispers from moots and provide 0 evidence for them. i am perfectly aware of why emmie may consider herself to have issues with me, but i have never had an encounter with anantaru, and truthfully, i’ve never actually even read their writing before. my main (and pretty much only) experience with them is seeing the joke i saw reblogged onto my dash, and as i stated earlier, the only thing i did for that was block and move one.

and lastly, the other point i’d like to make is that numerous blogs who i have been objectively very kind to have come out to take the opportunity to stomp on my character and reputation. for example, tumblr user @/osaemu, who used to follow me and interact with me quite often. i have always been excited to interact with her because she was really supportive of my gojo writing, and at one point, i had a small area of concern with her using the same exact title as me for a gojo fic. below are screenshots of our conversation regarding the titles.

i am quite confident that this is a very polite interaction, and i was very clear that i didn’t think that her writing elements, including gojo’s parent dynamics and his dynamics with the reader, were copied or even something that i felt she needed to change. i pointed them out as a way of indicating that between these parallels and between the fact that i know she reads my rb! gojo series, i find it difficult to believe that our fic titles being exactly the same is a coincidence, and it made me uncomfortable—my concern was not how she wrote gojo’s parents or his dynamic with reader. i never accused her of stealing ideas that were mine alone to use, all i simply wanted to do was shed light on the fact that based on these parallels, i figured the names being the same was a touch difficult for me to brush aside as a chance similarity. i was very clear to outline that i know these dynamics and themes in writing are generic, and that people can pull inspo from them because i have done the same thing. my only concern was the title, which i politely asked her to change, and she agreed. case closed. i have been, again objectively, quite kind to osaemu, and i had no intentions of blocking her like a moot had suggested because i felt it was a very silly issue to block over since she was very lovely to me.

i did, however, block her because she posted one-paragraph posts with multiple characters tagged. that’s not a crime on her end, and i’m certainly not here to police her posts in the tags, but as me and plenty of other people on this app have voiced multiple times, it is a bit irritating and feels like spam to see posts of these kinds in the tags so i blocked her. this is a very popular opinion and i refuse to be considered problematic for it. i am not here to police what constitutes an appropriate post to tag x reader tags on, and while i have made posts simply sharing my opinion on what i feel should and should not be tagged, osaemu is more than welcome to post whatever she feels she would like to into the tags. i do, however, block anyone who i come across who makes those kinds of posts because i simply don’t like them, and i don’t like seeing them. i don’t owe an explanation for why i block anyone, but seeing as i have been painted as some bitch for doing so, here is my reasoning. quite a lot of people agree on this sentiment, and to each their own, but i don’t enjoy seeing those posts. i did also unblock her at one point, as she mentioned. this is simply because a mutual of mine had voiced that they felt someone had copied the concept of their drabble, and i was helping them word a message to send, so i went back to this exact conversation to look back on what i said because it was a similar situation. as you know, blocking someone hides their dms from your dm list, so i had intended to temporarily unblock her just to see how i worded my message to help formulate a message for a mutual. there were no screenshots sent, i simply wanted to jog my memory of my points, that’s all. i did forget to block her again for a bit but eventually did, and that’s the extent of our interactions. i don’t recall posts telling people that i condone sending anons with death threats like she has claimed, and if she could point out the particular posts i have made where i encourage people to send anon death threats on my behalf, i would be more than happy to clear them up, or address them.

i have admittedly, on a few occasions said in my responses to anon hate itself, the phrase “kys” out of frustration, and there are i’m sure conflicting opinions on that, but i do not regularly use this phrase in my vocabulary. i have been on the receiving end of graphic sexual and violent asks in my inbox regarding me, my teenage sister, and my mother, during my time on here, and sometimes out of frustration i have said less than dignified things, but this is not a constant behavior, and frankly, i think once people make graphic, violent, and inappropriate comments about my 16 year old sister, saying “kys” in response is not the greater of the two evils. it is a tad bit hypocritical to expect benevolence from me to an anonymous hate ask just because there is “another person” at the end of the screen when they have not extended the same sentiment to me.

all of that being said, jumping on the trend to trample on someone while you have the opportunity to because you’re bitter they blocked you is also no better than bullying. apart from blocking osaemu, I have taken careful steps to always be respectful to her due to the very kind comments she’s left on my writing. leaving nice comments on my writing is deeply appreciated and welcome, but that doesn’t mean i have to subject myself to seeing posts i do not want to see on my dash on my phone. i pay for the phone bill, so i will cater my phone to show me what i want to see, and if that includes blocking a few people, i am allowed to do that !! i should not have to apologize for or be crucified for blocking someone and their feelings being hurt over it.

not only this, but several of you have somehow started a rumor that i am 26 or even pushing 30. that’s nowhere close to the truth. i’m 21, soon to be 22, and i have stated multiple times i am an undergraduate college student. of course, there is no timeline to college, and people of all ages complete their undergrad degrees, but i have made it a point to vent about my concerns numerous times that i am very stressed about taking extra classes every semester to compensate for changing my major late because i want to graduate on time. my graduation year is 2024 (as would make sense seeing as i will be 22 years old), and if you don’t believe me, i have celebrated my bday on april 12th of every year this blog has been active. you’re more than welcome to check my archive to see if that’s true, and for further reference, here is a picture i have sent to mods of servers i am in to be accepted. (note that my url used to be hanmas before saetoru.)

although there is no shame in being 26 or pushing 30, the reason why i wanted to address this is that i wanted to point out that yet another rumor has been fiercely pushed on my name and has been believed to be the truth. no one has to walk away from reading this post assuming that i’m a saint and i have never done anything wrong or that i have been faultless in differences i’ve had with other people. but a lot, if not all, of these claims are exaggerated with 0 evidence, and people have just run with claiming them as true. i physically cannot deny a large majority of these rumors with evidence or screenshots because half of them are made by people i have never interacted with or talked to, and i cannot produce evidence for interactions that never happened. i have seen blank, burner blogs post stories of their experiences with me, one in particular that claims i dm’d them to tell them their hanma fic was breathtaking before i harassed them about their theme, boyfriend, and parents. a) i do not dm anyone to compliment their fics because i am simply too shy to do that. i would have only reblogged the fic with comments if i enjoyed it. b) again, there is no evidence on their part, and i cannot dispel this story with evidence of my own because evidence of conversations that never took place does not exist. and c) i would like to think i do not come across as dense enough to attack someone in their dm’s viciously about their boyfriend and parents openly with my account, where they could easily spread the proof around if it had actually happened. i am not responsible for people’s internet literacy, and if people believe every story that is shared with not even a small piece of proof that it took place, i cannot do anything besides simply urge you all to formulate your opinions based on what you see, not based on what you hear.

i would also like to end things off with an apology to all of you—mainly because there was no reason for so many of you to be dragged into something that did not involve you and also because there are very disturbing and important issues going on right now in real-time in the world that are affecting a lot of people. i never want to be involved in something that takes attention off of important discussions such as genocide, and while many of you like to claim i am deflecting, i think it is quite telling that some people have posted nothing about something this important but have made multiple posts regarding discourse. i did not feel it was appropriate at that time to focus on discourse, and i still do not think so, but i wanted to leave off with my own statement.

i would also like to apologize if i have ever come across as unkind during an experience with me; it is never my intention to be that way purposely. i have a habit of being petty sometimes and can be a bit short-tempered, and it’s something i work on. with as large of a following as i have, sometimes it’s better not to say anything at all than say it—however vaguely it might be. i hope some of you who also have larger followings keep that in mind so that you can avoid discourse erupting into something grand scale. please vent to people you trust and be wary of having a habit to subpost. but mainly, please remember that people trusting you with their feelings and troubles is not something you should take pride in spreading. there is nothing to be proud of about sharing people's private socials, urls, and conversations. while i am not always able to keep my temper under wraps, and while i have had my fair share of petty moments, i, to the best of my ability, have always made sure that i don’t come across as intentionally cruel or mean, nor have i purposely broken someone’s trust. sometimes i have retaliated back a bit fiercely, but i stand by the fact that i never purposely chased or drove anyone off, mocked or belittled them, or sent people over to dislike/hate them. i have at times vented to those who i believe are people i can trust, sure—but this is something we as people are all guilty of. there’s no way any of us can hold one person more accountable than others for partaking in closeted conversations that are never meant to get back to people and hurt them.

i genuinely loved, and still love, writing very much, and i have always appreciated every ask, every reblog, and every comment. writing is a hobby i am greatly passionate about, and it’s always a hobby i was very excited to share with people on here because i don’t get to share it with people irl. i don’t willingly tell people irl that i enjoy making elaborate plots about anime characters, and i have always been very excited to share that hobby with you all, whether you are a reader or writer. i’ve read fanfiction for a very long time before i ever decided to try my hand at writing it, and i would never want to knock other people down simply because they “surpassed” me. i enjoy finding writers to read from, especially those who write better than me, because they are where i draw the most inspiration and motivation from. the moots i look up to most are moots who are in my opinion, far stronger writers than me, and moots who i always firmly believe deserve much more reach than i do on their stories because they’re far more fleshed out and in-depth than anything i can produce. and i am proud of them !! and even those of you who feel you are stuck not getting as much reach as you would hope, i am proud also of all of you for picking up a google doc or pen and writing and trying, whether you choose to share it or not. i will always strongly encourage you all to try your hand at writing if you have ever considered it because i have genuinely built such a better sense of self-esteem when being able to incorporate pieces of myself in my stories and express parts of who i am—i think some of you might really enjoy the catharsis that writing brings, and if you ever debate on trying it out, please do !! you might become really passionate about it.

anyway, this post is abysmally long. none of it is to clear my name in hopes that i will be “un-canceled” (LOL) because i have decided saetoru is long overdue to be put to rest. i hope you can all, at the very least, allow other writers some peace and stop harassing them in their inboxes for knowing me (because that is also bullying and very ironic of you), and i hope you all got some sort of understanding of where i am coming from. if you think poorly of me, that’s okay. i have an opinion of myself, and the close people who surround me, that i am confident in, and while i may not have always handled things in the brightest of manners, i am well aware of what my intentions have always been.

i’m deeply grateful to all 41k of you, and thank you for reading my works and allowing me to write for you !! thank you for all the very, very kind asks that i never got a chance to fully answer each one of, and thank you especially for all the supportive comments and love on the writing i’ve posted. they might be silly fics you read once and moved on from, but they’re all pieces of me, my life, and things that are important to me, and as cringe and cheesy as it sounds, it means quite literally everything to me when people read them and take away something from them.

also, as a parting gift, i will be posting the nerd gojo, ex-convict geto, and a marriage rb! gojo fic to my ao3 (also saetoru) for those of you who have been patiently awaiting those wips to enjoy. please (a little more patiently) keep your eyes peeled for those <3 i will no longer be posting or active on saetoru, and in the event that i keep writing, it will be posted on my ao3, so you all will know where to find me !!

so for the last time, i love you my little runts !! wishing you all the best, and goodbye to my lil saetoru bestees.

mwah !!

— tee <3

ps. i also have turned off reblogs for this post and limited replies to people i follow only. a lot of you will jump to say that it’s simply because i am “hiding,” but it is solely because i have said my piece and i intend to move on. thank you and have a lovely day shawtee ✌🏽

#thanks to all my mutuals who have reached out !! i love you all #and i will miss you tons !!

879 notes · View notes

ashleyfilm · 2 months

Text

Seeing Clearly

Hi Everyone, this is my first fan fiction. I love Joel Miller and Pedro and I just wanted to write something about him/them. I was inspired by the many many many fantastic fics I've read and all their writers. You all are amazing. I don't know what I'm doing so, if I do something wrong, please let me know and I'll adjust. Please leave comments, I'd love to know your thoughts. And if you feel inclined to reblog, that would be so nice.

Chapter Warnings: violence, cursing, gore, blood. (There Will Be Smut, eventually) Minors - DNI

Characters: Jackson!Joel Miller x F!Reader Plus Size. I will give her some physical descriptions because she is me for this one but I've taken to writing her and You (Reader) so hopefully you can still imagine yourself. Black hair, glasses, tattoos, big body, wears dark clothes, won't stop talking, a little annoying. Joel is tv show Jackson Joel.

Story Summary: Joel just saved your life, begrudgingly. He doesn't know exactly why but he brings you back to Jackson and you ingratiate yourself into his very small circle and his life. This takes place after season 1 of TLOU and season 2 doesn't exist in my brain because no.

Chapter Summary: Joel saves your life and takes you back to Jackson.

Chapter 1: Him.

It all happens so fast. You step on that fallen fucking branch and it snaps. It feels so loud in the eerie quiet of the forest, like an explosion. Your heart almost burst in your chest, and the clicker you were hiding from, praying would pass you by, turns on the stumps left of its heels and comes towards you. Its limbs flailing, but at a speed that seems impossible. Next, you’re on the ground, pushing the things’ rotting neck and shoulders as hard as you can to keep its snapping jaws from your face, when suddenly, with the sound of a shot, the head splinters, and bloody debris falls onto the skin of your face as the clicker’s strength weakens and its weight falls against you.

Your brain can’t catch up with what is happening as the corpse is lifted off you and the sound of a man’s voice starts to come through as if you’re hearing it under water. “ANSWER ME!” You finally make out the words, “WERE YOU BIT?” You find your voice, shaky but still strong, matching the man’s intensity, “I DON’T KNOW.” You hear him sigh, almost as if he’s irritated rather than fearful. You still can’t see him clearly, the viscera of brain matter from the clicker being shot above you still blurring your vision, along with the loss of your black framed glasses that helped you see, even if the prescription wasn’t exactly right. Damnit, where are they now? You wipe your face as best you can and move your mass of black hair streaked with gray out of the way as the man, who you can now see is large, broad shouldered, only being able to make out his shape without your glasses. He grabs at your collar and moves your head from side to side to check your face and neck, and then pulls you up to a standing position. You’re weak on your legs after the, let’s face it, near fucking death experience you just had, and reach out to the man, grabbing his hand for balance, after you seem steady and not a second before, he pulls his hand back and squeezes his fist like you burned him. Okay, man, just trying not to fall over again.

“Roll up your sleeves and show me your hands and arms, both sides. NOW!” You do just that. His brow furrows at the site of the tattoos covering your arms, like he’s wondering how you got them all, and trying to figure out if it was before the world ended, or after. How old you would have been, and if you could have gotten them all before. You can see the gears turning, then it seems he finally deems you unbitten and therefore not an immediate threat, but certainly not safe. “What are you doing out here alone, where are your people?” He says while looking around him, checking his six or whatever the fuck, you wonder if he was in the military or something, he seems like a soldier but also like maybe the Jason Borne kind. You never got to see the sequel they announced before it all happened, sequels usually sucked anyway. God, you miss movies.

“What is wrong with you, kid, you got brain damage? Answer my questions,” the man says, still more irritated with you than anything else. Kid? You’re fucking 40. Whatever. “Um, no brain damage that I know of, but I have a theory that I had an undiagnosed concussion as a teenager, um, but I’m out here trying to not get eaten by clickers, or raiders, or murdered, or worse and trying not to starve. Also, no people. I have no people.” You ramble quickly and the man sighs, AGAIN. You look down and see a rough black outline in the grass below and- “Oh, thank fuck.”

You reach down, clean them off on the part of your black long sleeved shirt that doesn’t have blood or clicker gunk on it and put them on with a long sigh of relief, “Do you know how hard it was to find glasses that actually helped me see and hold onto them and not break them in this shit show of an existence…” another sigh of relief as you open your eyes to finally look at the man who saved your life and already seems like he wants to take it back from you and Holy shit. He’s hot, there’s no other way to put it. He’s the hottest person you’ve ever seen on planet earth, and you’ve just ran your goddamn smart mouth like a fucking moron this entire time. Without the decency to be quiet and nervous in front of, again, THE HOTTEST PERSON YOU HAVE EVER SEEN. You choke on your own thoughts and wide-eyed look into his eyes, they’re chocolate brown and filled with life and emotion, he’s gruff and scary but his eyes…god, they betray him. His hair is just below his ears, curled and brown with slices of gray throughout. His face is worn, scarred, like he’s been through shit, you know because you have too. His nose is like a roman god’s, aquiline and fucking beautiful. He’s got a patchy beard the same two colors as his curly hair and his lips are full and pouty with a mustache and you wonder how it would scratch if he put his mouth on your neck. Wait, what the fuck. I mean he’s hot but instantly thinking of him kissing your neck… relax bitch.

He clears his throat, looking at you like you have two heads and sighs. He really likes to sigh. Then he finally speaks in a stern but soft voice, “Okay, look, don’t know why, but I believe you when you say you’re alone, your eyes look like you haven’t eaten in a few days, that true?” You nod and he seems relieved that you don’t start speaking again, so you stick with it and stay silent. His southern drawl continues, “I come from a community. If you want, I’ll take ya there. Food, shelter, medical. You gotta contribute and you gotta behave. Might want to watch that smart mouth of yours until people start trustin’ you, or maybe forever.” You look at him, tears threatening to fall, turning away to shield him or yourself, you’re not sure. Food. Shelter. Medical. My god how is this possible. He takes this time to look away from you and retrieve jerky from his pack which he holds out for you, and you take it. “Thank you...” you say in the quietest voice you think you’ve ever used realizing you don’t know his name. “Joel, name’s Joel Miller.” He nods and points his head in the direction he wants you to walk. Looking at your hair he says, “C’mon Ash,” and he follows just behind you. What you don’t see is the uptick of his lip on one side that reveals a dimple you’ve yet to witness on his beautiful face and his eyes linger on you for far too long when he should be watching your surroundings. That’s what you don’t see.

#pedro pascal fanfiction #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller plus size reader #joel millerxf!reader #fluff #eventual smut #my first fanfic #joel miller female reader #joel miller x reader #joel tlou #pedro pascal characters #tlou #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #jackson joel miller

179 notes · View notes

aaron-romave · 1 year

Text

My Only Sunshine

It was a quiet night in Gotham, when suddenly the coms crackle to life, with a voice, that seemingly none of the bats recognized. That is all but one. Damians blood ran cold as he heard something that should not be possible. He had never even let himself think about it, because even recalling the mere memory of it would shatter him.

The other night, dear

As I lay sleeping

I dreamed I held you

In my arms

Batman's voice was the first to come over the coms “oracle who is this? Where are they?”

“I’m working on it B.” She crackle back in her slightly mechanical disguised voice.

When I awoke, dear

I was mistaken

So I hung my head and I cried

Oracle may not have known where it was coming from, but he did. He knew it as he knew the heart beating in his chest and the air within his lungs. Without thinking he leapt off the building, grappling across the city that his father loved, but he has never thought of as his true home.

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are gray

He was vaguely aware as Batman cried out for him, but that didn’t matter. His blood was rushing too quickly through his ears. Any protest or question simply ignored. He had somewhere he needed to be, and he needed to be there now.

You'll never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don't take

My sunshine away

“Oracle location!”

“I’m trying B! But these people are good I can’t work faster than I am!”

Was the last thing that came over the coms before he reached up and muted everyone, everyone but the voice he was focused on. The world had narrowed down to the wind whipping past him, his heartbeat in his ears and the one voice that he had wish to hear again for so long.

I'll always love you and make you happy

And nothing else could come between

His lungs burned as Wayne industries came in to view. Why? Why of all nights was he on the outskirts of the city? He needed to move faster, faster, please be fast enough. He begged to himself, to whatever god was out there be fast enough ….and for him to be there for this not to be some sort of cruel trick.

But if you leave me to love another

I’ll support you as you follow your dreams

It was him. It had to be him. only he knew to sing it that way. His brother quietly singing and holding him as he silently cried. He was never good enough for grandfather, he will never be good enough to be the heir to be excepted never daring, hopeing to be loved, but it was never like that with his brother. His brother loved him more than anything, and he couldn’t stop anything as grandfather ran his sword through the heart of the one person he truly loved. Through the heart of Damien’s one weakness.

You are my sunshine

My only sunshine

You make me happy

When skies are gray

Even at the end, when his brother knew grandfather was coming for him, his too kind brother never forced him. Always giving him a choice and he had failed his brother when he was willing to give up everything for someone as weak and pitiful as him. He wasn’t strong enough to run. He wasn’t strong enough to protect the one person who loved him above all else.

You'll never know, dear

How much I love you

Please don't take

My sunshine away

He was so close three minutes out. Almost there the highest spot in the city, the best place to see the stars.

Northstar, I’m so happy you made it out. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there with you.

My Northstar please stop blaming yourself. This was my choice. It was always my choice and I don’t regret a second of it so neither should you. You are without a second of doubt the best thing to have ever happened to me.

Damien felt a pit open up in his stomach. Less than two minutes to Wayne enterprises

You have to let the others in Northstar. Being family to them, loving them it’s not replacing me or dishonoring me. Quite the opposite Northstar it’s keeping me alive; In a different way, but I’m still with you.

Go on brother adventures with Dick, try things that make you uncomfortable, but know that he will keep you safe.

Spend time with Babs in the library, read books that let you travel to fantastical worlds that we could never dream of.

Go to Jason for advice. You two are more alike than you even know, lean on each other, use that.

Try photography with Tim. Take pictures of all those animals that you love.

Less than one minute

Pull pranks with Stephanie. Let yourself be a kid and laugh at stupid and dumb things.

When things get too much go to Cass for quiet and understanding.

Go to Duke and ask him to take you out shopping at a regular store or to go to the mall to buy a toy for yourself. Enjoy the normal quiet moments.

Go to Bruce for comfort, he is Batman but he is also our dad don’t forget that, let him be a dad.

The world went blurry. There is no one on the roof.

Northstar I’m gone. I really am gone. You know how magic is Northstar your big brother had a few tricks up his sleeve, but I’m afraid this used the last of it. In the future in the far, far, far, future when you come join me in the hereafter, I’ll be waiting for you with open arms. I love you, Northstar now let our family love you in my stead.

As his feet made contact with the roof of Wayne enterprises a small, glowing object made it self known in the center of the roof. It appeared that stars itself littered and sprung from the object, beckoning him forward.

He was vaguely aware of the rest of the bats and birds joining him on the roof, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that his shaking hand was reaching out to grab the old dog stuffed animal as the last glitters of Stardust left the plush.

A drop of water fell down and landed on the left ear of the love worn dog. Reaching up and touching below the domino he realize that he was crying. When did that happen? When was the last time this happened?

As he clutched the dog plush to his chest, a frivolity that would have never been allowed in the league, but still his brother who he loved most in this world snuck it in for him. Hiding it behind a loose stone in the wall. Bringing it out for him to hold as his big brother comforted him and told him stories of a better life that they could have.

The demons heir, Robin, Damien sobbed, cried for the injustice of the world, for his brother who even waiting for him in the hereafter was still looking out for him.

His body shook as wave after wave of agony and despair ripped through him. Years of repressed grief tore through his body sharper and with more deadly aim than any blade. The floodgates had been opened. His big brother had given him this one last gift.

So when Batman, his father, his dad crouched down in front of him concern showing through his usual stoic expression he does not ignore what his brother has given him and leaps forward, clutching onto his dad and weeping for the brother that he lost and the son his dad will never get to know.

( inspired by this)

youtube

#dp x dc #dc x dp #demon twins au #Sort of #Big brother Danny #so yay my first fic to ever escape the just an idea phase #And it was because I was in a sad mood #So enjoy me somewhat constructively using my sadness for fics #Use this as a prompt if you want to continue the sadness #dp x dc prompt #Using writing as therapy #damian wayne #danny phantom #Danny al ghul reincarnated as Danny Fenton #The timelines match up because of clockwork #And because I said so #Clockwork let’s Danny send one message to Damien #Youtube

968 notes · View notes

badkitty3000 · 1 month

Note

Five and Lila are stuck in the Subway and since this is Lila's first apocalypse she has a major panic attack at the end of 6 years and Five calms her down, this is where she tries to come onto him but he firmly rejects her in a mixture of sweet, comforting, funny, asshole way.

I won't lie, my immediate reaction to this request was "NOOO", merely because I have been trying to avoid anything to do with this season and just generally pretending it doesn't exist. But then I started thinking about it and it was a really good idea. So, thank you, anon...you gave me some light at the end of the tunnel. Here is my take on this request as a nice little alternate scene instead of what we were given by the actual show.

You Made It Weird. Real Fucking Weird

2607 words, one-shot

Warnings: None. Zero Smut! Zero Romance!

“How long has it been now?”

“You just asked me that no more than two minutes ago.”

Lila lets out a long, dramatic whine and slides down the cement support beam of the subway station, drawing her knees up to her chest. “Two minutes? God, why does everything seem to take so long down here?”

There’s a pause and Five keeps quiet.

“So, how long now?”

“Jesus, Lila!” He sighs. “You really want to know?”

Lila nods sadly, her tangled hair hanging over her dirt-smudged face. “Yes.”

Five waits a beat because he knows she’s not going to like the answer. “If my calculations are correct, it’s been 6 years, 5 months, and 2 days.”

He watches as his partner in time-crime stares at him in disbelief. “But, that’s impossible. We can’t have been gone that long. I haven’t seen my own face in a while, but I can sure as bloody hell see yours and it’s still as smooth as a baby’s ass. That makes no sense!”

Five shrugs and looks guilty, although he’s not sure why. It’s not his fault time travel is so complicated. “Time travel is a finicky mistress. We just don’t seem to age on this train; I can’t explain it. There’s a lot of things I can’t explain, actually.”

Lila bangs her forehead against her knees a few times, making guttural groaning noises. When she looks up, it’s as if she has morphed into an entirely different person. She looks manic and scared, with her wide eyes and rapid breathing. She looks deranged. Five takes a small step back.

“Are you ok?” he asks dubiously.

Lila shakes her head. “No,” she says quietly. Then she scrambles up from the ground and starts yelling. “No, I’m not ok, Five! Of course I’m not ok! I’ve been away from my family for almost seven years!” Tears start welling up in her eyes. “My kids…I haven’t seen my kids in that long…oh my god…and Diego…” her voice trails off. After a second, her head whips in his direction again. “We need to go back, Five. I need to go back! Like right now!”

“What the hell do you think we’ve been trying to do? If I had a way back, I’d tell you, but I don’t.”

“No…no no no no…this cannot be happening. I don’t know what I was thinking. Five, my kids!” She stares at him with the most heartbreaking look on her face, the tears starting to quietly drip down her cheeks, leaving trails through the dirt smudges. Five’s demeanor starts to soften.

“Listen, I know this is terrible and I know you need your family. But the good news is, they don’t even know you’re gone. No time has passed for them.”

“How the hell do you know? You just said time travel was a judgy whore.”

“Finicky mistress, but sure, we can go with judgy whore. And I’m not sure on a lot of aspects of it, but that part I am sure of.”

That calms her a little bit and she takes a deep breath. “But…even if that were true and no time has passed for them, once we get back won’t that mean I’ll have aged by years in a matter of minutes? What if my kids don’t even recognize me? What if they’re scared of me because their mother is suddenly a haggard old witch with wrinkles and gray hair?”

Five shakes his head with a small smile. “Like I said, I don’t think we’re aging. I think it will be just fine.”

“You think?” She screams at him again. “Oh, well, that’s just great, Five! I’ll try not to worry that my entire life has been destroyed because you, the most self-centered asshole I have ever met, thinks it’ll be fine!”

“You know, if I recall, this was all your idea in the first place!” Five shoots back. “Because you were bored with your life and needed some adventure. So, who’s the self-centered asshole now?”

Lila stops and looks down at the ground. When she looks up, her face has changed again. It starts to crumble and she cries in earnest, her shoulders shaking with loud sobs. Five rolls his eyes and sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets, and looks around uncomfortably. Finally, he concedes and closes the few steps between them.

“It’s going to be ok,” he says softly. “I promise. I’ll get you back home.”

When he wraps his arms around her, pulling her into a hug, Lila collapses into him, her forehead pressed against his chest and her hands clutching onto the front of his wrinkled suit. She lets him take her full weight against him, eventually dragging them both down until they’re kneeling on the cold cement floor.

“Promise me,” Lila pleads in between sobs. “Promise me you’ll fix this.”

“I’ll fix it. I promise,” Five whispers as he rests his cheek on the top of her head.

They stay there for a few more minutes as Lila continues crying and Five rubs her back. Once she starts to settle down again, she sniffs loudly and Five can feel her body relax into his. He keeps holding her because he’s not quite sure when he should let go without seeming rude. In order to stave off the awkwardness that he feels is imminent, he clears his throat.

“You remember Dolores?”

There’s a pause. “You mean the mannequin you were shagging?”

Five grits his teeth. “Yes. That one.”

“What about her?”

“All those years it was just me and her. Forty-five years in my apocalypse and she was all I had. I loved her and she made me whole. We were a good team.”

Lila doesn’t say anything, but she adjusts herself and pulls away from Five. She shuffles back so that she’s leaning against the pillar again and Five joins her.

“I know how you feel, believe me. It’s horrible to be away from your family or the world you know. Not sure if you’ll ever make it back again, or if you’ll just die all alone with no one to grieve you. If I didn’t have Dolores…” Five swallows. “I don’t know what would have become of me. Humans just aren’t meant for solitary lives.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because,” Five starts warily, “You aren’t alone. And neither am I this time. We have each other. And even if I could not imagine a more annoying person to be stranded in a matrix of shitty timelines with, I’m still glad you’re here with me.”

Lila looks over at him and sees he’s actually smiling. She wipes away the remaining tears that have slipped down to her chin. “You are?”

Five nods. “It’s true. We can do this, Lila. Because we’re not alone. Anything is possible when you have someone you can count on.”

As Lila studies Five’s face, something in hers switches. She leans in, slowly at first, and then lunges toward him, grabbing the lapels of his suitcoat and pulling him in for a kiss. Five quickly jerks his head back and leans as far away as possible, until his body is practically flat on the ground. Lila’s hands are still clutching at his coat and she leans over him as he sits up on his elbows.

“What the hell are you doing?” he asks incredulously.

“I’m trying to kiss you, shithead. Now hold still.”

She leans in again, and Five risks a blink to get himself out of the situation as quickly as possible, leaving Lila falling forward onto the ground. He reappears a few feet away. The look on Lila’s face tells him she is not happy. And possibly insane.

“What is wrong with you?” Five barks. “Have you lost your damn mind?”

Lila stands up, brushing off her hands on her pant legs. “Apparently, I have! Because after your stupid, beautiful story, compounded with the fact that I haven’t touched a man in damn near seven years, you’re not looking so bad at the moment. And even if we do end up getting out of here, who knows how long that’s going to take. So, you’re all I have, as pathetic as that may be. Now, get over here so I can jump those puny little bones of yours.”

“Christ, Lila, get ahold of yourself!”

“What’s the matter? Scared that I’m a real woman?”

“No, actually there’s the small matter that you’re married to my brother. And you’re the mother of my nieces. And lest you forget, we have tried several times to kill one another in the past, so I’m thinking that may put a little damper on any romance between us. Shall I go on?”

Lila begins to look like she has a little more clarity again. “Right, that’s all true, isn’t it? You did once call me a sentient STD.”

Five gestures toward her and runs a hand through his hair in relief, letting out a loud exhale. “See? There you go!”

“Oh, god,” Lila starts, as she clutches her stomach. “I think I might be sick.”

“Alright, now you’re just being dramat—”

“No, no, really. I’m going to hurl,” she answers with a groan, doubling over and retching loudly.

Five crosses his arms over his chest and huffs. “Are you done?”

Lila spits a couple of times onto the ground and wipes her mouth with her coat sleeve. She nods. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Fabulous,” Five says dryly. Then he hands her a somewhat clean napkin he had stuffed in his pocket earlier. “Here.”

Lila takes the napkin and covers her mouth with it before looking guiltily at Five. “I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

Five’s posture relaxes again. “It’s ok. You just went a little off the deep end. It’s understandable. People in stressful situations do some pretty weird things.”

“Shit…I made it weird, didn’t I?”

Five chuckles. “I’ll get over it.” He leans cooly up against the cement pillar, crossing his ankles. “Besides, I now have some pretty great leverage over you. Now that you tried to fuck me.”

Lila gags again. “An attempted kiss is not the same as me trying to fuck you!”

Five’s mouth presses into a thin line and he cocks his head to the side, eyebrows drawn together. “Yeah…you tried to fuck me.”

“Oh screw you, you little…”

“See? There you go again,” Five interrupts, shaking his head sadly. “It’s like you just can’t help yourself. I do understand the impulse, but really Lila…keep it in your pants, ok?”

Lila’s face evolves from shock and rage to reluctant amusement, and soon she is cracking up laughing. Five joins her until they are both wiping tears from their faces.

“Oh, holy shit, I need to be locked up in the asylum again,” she wheezes out as her laughter starts to die down.

“That is a possibility,” Five says.

“I’m really sorry, Five.”

“I know. Are you going to be ok?”

Lila nods. “Yeah, I think so.” She plops herself down on the edge of the subway platform, swinging her legs. Five comes and sits next to her. “Thank you,” she says.

“No problem. I’m sure I’ll have a nervous breakdown next and you can talk me down from the ledge.”

“I really miss them, you know,” Lila says quietly. “I hope they don’t forget me.”

Five reaches over and snaps the elastic on the beaded bracelet that hasn’t left Lila’s wrist in 13-some years. “Don’t worry, they won’t. Diego loves you; he’d wait a thousand years for you. And you’re a good mom. Your kids know that.”

Another tear slips down her cheek. “Thanks, Five.”

There is a moment of silence, then Five looks over at her. “Now is the time you say something nice about me.”

Lila smiles and bumps him with her shoulder. “You aren’t so bad to have as an end-of-the-world partner.”

“Thank you.”

“You smell nice, too.”

“I smell nice?”

“Yeah. Even when we haven’t found a water source to wash off with for weeks, you never stink. I don’t know how you do it.”

Five laughs. “That may be the nicest compliment I have ever gotten, believe it or not.”

“You’re welcome.”

Lila leans in and rests her head on his shoulder. “God, I fucking hate this place.”

“Me, too.”

As if on cue, the loud whooshing noise of an incoming train can be heard approaching, and they blink against the bright headlamps that tear through the darkness.

“Well, here we go again,” Lila says as she takes Five’s hand and lets him pull her up to standing.

“Maybe this will be the last one,” he says with a shrug.

She grins at him. “Yeah, maybe it will be.”

As the doors open, Five gestures for her to go first. “I don’t want you checking out my ass,” he explains.

Lila snorts. “I can’t even if I wanted to, the damn thing’s so flat. Like a smashed hamburger.”

☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️☂️

As the two of them stand on the porch of Lila’s house, she rings her hands nervously.

“You’re sure it’s only been a short amount of time for them?”

Five nods. “I’m sure.”

“And you’re sure I don’t look like I’m a hundred years old?”

“You inexplicably look just like you did when you left. I don’t even know how we got our old clothes back, but like I said, time travel is—”

“A whiny bitch,” she finishes for him.

Five sighs. “Right. Ok, are you ready?”

Lila nods. “Yep, ready.” She reaches for the door and then pulls her hand away. She turns to Five and shoves a finger in his face. “Don’t you dare say anything about what happened.”

Five smiles cruelly. “You mean when you tried to force me into having sexual relations with you? Oh, no I wouldn’t dare. Unless I have to, obviously. I don’t want to have to lie to my own brother, after all.”

“Damn it! Fine, you little shit stick. I will pay for one whole year’s worth of dry cleaning for your crappy little suits. Deal?”

“No deal. You called my suits crappy.”

“Ugh!” Lila throws her hands in the air and looks at the door nervously. “A year’s worth of dry cleaning and I’ll finally introduce you to that cute, single teacher at Grace’s school that you’ve been eye-fucking for the last year.”

Five thinks it over. “Deal.” He sticks out his hand to shake hers with a lopsided grin.

“Thanks again for everything. It’s been…interesting. But I’m glad I had you there with me,” she says with a smile.

“I’m glad you were there, too. We make a good team.”

As they step inside the house, Lila sees immediately that Five had been right. No one has aged. Nothing has changed. Her entire family is right where she had left them and she bursts into tears. Diego comes up, carrying one of the twins and gives her a quick kiss.

“Are you crying? What’s the matter?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all,” Lila smiles through her tears. She reaches up and loops her arms around her husband’s neck, giving him a long and passionate kiss. “I just missed you, that’s all.”

As Diego stands there looking like a big dopey man in love, Five pipes up from behind.

“Hey Diego, good to see you again. Did you know your wife here tried to fuck m—”

Lila’s hand shoots out and without even looking, her fist rams right into Five’s crotch. As he gasps and wheezes, doubling over in pain, she smiles her wicked smile.

“Don’t mind him. Now what delicious thing did you make for dinner, darling? It smells amazing!”

#the umbrella academy #umbrella academy #five hargreeves #lila hargreeves #platonic #number five #number five fanfic #five hargreeves fanfic #tua 4 #tua fanfic #tua s4 fix-it #alternate subway scene #no five x lila #badkittywrites

131 notes · View notes

photo1030 · 11 days

Note

Heyyy I have a suggestion to make it’s kinda stupid whatever so it takes place at the mayor’s party where Arthur Morgan and Dutch is meeting mr Bronte and reader come running to Mr Bronte for some random reason and sense she’s wearing a corset she can’t get all the air in her lungs AND SHE PAST OUT so Arthur or Dutch (I LUV THEM BOTH teehee) gotta RIPS her out the corset.. that’s all I got LOVE YOUR WRITING BTWW MWAH! ❤️❤️❤️

Hi there @lizzie2980 So sorry this has taken me forever. Thank you for being so kind and patient (and hopefully still interested?) This was a great prompt, had a lot of fun with this one.

This is a bit out of the canon story, hopefully that is OK. This is a little bit of flirty and protective Arthur, with a smidge of charming Dutch in there...lovely combo, if you ask me....which you did...(This is not part of my existing fic, Leather and Lace, btw)

(The images used here were found on a lovely blog that is apparently designed to help fanworks. Check it out! Thank you to whoever put that together. https://reddeadreference.tumblr.com/post/679731317406072832/the-gilded-cage )

*Special thanks to @appalachiancowboy99 for being my sounding board.

DON’T MAKE A SCENE

Summary: You are at Angelo Bronte’s house for a fancy garden party when you meet a certain group of outlaws.

Your hands clamp down tighter as the plump elderly matron apologetically yanks the strings of the restrictive corset. Nails of already shaky fingers dig into the wooden bedpost that you use to support yourself with as you stand on wavering feet. You wince on the verge of painful tears as Bridget stands behind you and pulls the threads of the already too tight garment even tighter still, testing the limits of its stitching and causing a gasp to quickly get sucked into your folded-up lungs with each pull.

Sunset has already begun, the brilliant orange disc settling itself softly behind the horizon line for the day, and your room slowly dims to a pastel dusk as you get ready, the wall sconces glowing against the ivory painted walls of your lavish private quarters inside Angelo Bronte’s mansion. The garden party below will be starting any minute, and the shadows that dance along the walls inside the house mask the dread inside your chest. It is as if your hope and spirit are diminishing with the quickly-fading sun. You are hoping that Bridget doesn’t see the trepidation creeping into your expression as she flits about you, but the older woman is too shrewd for that.

“You know...Mr. Bronte…he isn’t going to wait much longer for you”, she murmurs as her weathered fingers begin to run over your frame, smoothing out the fabric of your dress, picking at errant threads. “He will eventually want what he feels he is due.”

The obvious statement hits your gut like a prize-fighter’s punch. “I know,” you utter with a dejected sigh, your voice almost a whimper in the air.

The thought of the man’s pock-marked, oily skin against your own makes you sick to your stomach. It would be like a vile lizard rubbing up against you.

But Bridget is not unsympathetic to your situation. She is definitely a woman of experienced years, as the graying hair of her loosely tied-up bun gives testament to. And she knows a thing or two from her twenty-some years in service to upper-society households.

“You know, sometimes when you’re a woman, you just have to do what you have to do. Close your eyes and let your mind go somewhere else when it’s happening.” She waves her hand dismissively in the air as if speaking about the most matter-of-fact thing in the world. “Just tune it all out, let the man have his way, and then it will all be over quickly. In fact, it’s usually over quicker than you think.” She gives you a whimsical wink as a sharp cackle snaps out of her throat at her own joke. Whether Bridget is speaking specifically about Bronte, or any man for that matter, you are not sure, as this seems to have the feel of a rehearsed speech she has given many times over.

When Bridget sees the distaste of such a thing clearly coating your face as you silently stand there with your hands fidgeting over themselves, she continues.

“If you’re clever enough, you could let him have what he wants, but then have something for yourself on the side, you know.”

Your eyes immediately shoot up to hers to find that knowing twinkle in her eye. The thought causes a humorless huff from your lips.

“I can barely manage to look after myself, Bridget. I couldn’t manage that cat-and-mouse game.”

“Suit yourself,” she shrugs and continues to primp and preen your outfit.

Despite the odd advice, you are grateful for Bridget’s counsel. She is the only friend you have here in Angelo Bronte’s mansion. You are not a hostage per se, but he has made his opinions very clear on how he feels about a woman, especially one indebted to him, leaving the premises to socialize without him as your escort and chaperone; so improper, so ungrateful.

It is especially warm tonight on the evening of the garden party that Mr. Bronte has been planning for weeks now. The whole household buzzes with excitement and anticipation for the fancy event, despite the sweltering weather. St. Denis is dreadfully hot and muggy, making it difficult to breathe on a good day. You’re not used to such heat. You come from the northern state of Massachusetts, which is much cooler. The heat here is bad enough, but the humidity clings to the air like a wet blanket.

And this damn dress doesn’t help in the slightest.

The dress that Angelo Bronte hand-picked for you to wear tonight is way too tight, making you lightheaded already. You watch in the full-length mirror as the constricting fabric pulls your body into shape under Bridget’s strong, able fingers, transforming your voluptuous figure into an hourglass. A deep midnight blue hued fabric that shimmers in the light is cut to hug and accent your physique, leaving little to the imagination of the observer.

If the origins of the dress weren’t so distasteful, you may have very well liked the beautiful gown that currently clings to your form and drapes over your hips in a cascade of silk. But you know Bronte did not provide this gown to please you. No, he did it for his own inflated ego. Bronte will parade you around tonight like a prized horse out of his stable, showing you off to all in tonight’s attendance. And he’ll treat you as such too - like something he’s purchased and owns outright.

You curse yourself for letting yourself get into this situation. You hate that you have to rely on this man for a place to live. You arrived new to St. Denis a month ago and were promptly robbed upon arrival, leaving you with nothing. So much for civilization.

Bronte noticed you at the train station, frazzled and lost, and totally beside yourself as to what you would do now. You came here with no relatives, no contacts, just the promise of jobs and new adventure out West from an ad you saw in the newspaper back home. The man quickly made your acquaintance, preying like a vulture on your vulnerable situation. He was charming with a note of authority, like he knew exactly what to do and where to go. But it quickly became apparent that he offered you his home as a sanctuary in hopes to win your affections. You’ve managed to play coy for awhile, however, agreeing to be on his arm and accompany him to various social functions in town in exchange for residency in his home. But you have denied the man what he wants most - you in his bed.

An involuntary sigh passes your cherry lips as Bridget takes your hand in hers, patting it in the same way a grandmother comforts her troubled grandchild, and leads you to the vanity along the opposite wall so she can set your hair. Your body mindlessly drifts to the tapestry-padded stool, like a lost flower petal in the wind, void of any energy or enthusiasm.

Bridget’s nimble fingers curl your hair and pin it back to showcase your pretty face, adding in beautiful crystal clips for decoration and she even weaves a few flower buds from the garden into your locks. You sit silently in front of the vanity mirror with a blank stare, a melancholy overtaking your soul as you watch her prepare you to be the perfect accessory to the rich man’s life. The motherly woman’s presence comforts you, but she is also serving you up to the master of the house like a slice of beef on a silver platter for him to devour.

“There, now. Don’t you just look breathtaking?” she breaths in awe. The deep-set lines around Bridget’s hazel-colored eyes crinkle as she admires her masterpiece. Your eyes refocus to catch the old woman’s proud gaze in the mirror, and then back over your own reflection.

“Yes, Bridget,” you whisper with a sad smile, your lower lip quivering just slightly. “You did a fine job. Thank you for your help tonight.” She catches the reluctance in your fluttering eyes and can only nod in agreement. She lovingly pats your arm in an attempt to comfort your growing uneasiness.

“Well, I had better get downstairs and tend to the kitchen, then. Don’t hide up here too long, miss.” And she wipes her hands on her apron as her wide hips carry her to the bedroom door before she slips out and you are alone with your thoughts once again.

With a deep sigh, you haul yourself up to stand. You swish the heavy fabric of your dress-skirts to the side to allow you to amble over to the balcony doors of your private room. Pulling the double-doors open wide with both hands, you step out onto the freshly painted wood as a rush of humid air hits you like a wall, causing you to take a brief pause to try to catch your breath. Your hands eventually find their place upon the smooth railing as you step up to the edge to look out over the balcony at the garden party below.

Jovial music floats up to your ears from the string quartet that is playing on the patio beneath you. String lights delicately criss-cross over the open garden area, resembling a net that has caught a thousand fire-flies. Bronte’s guests have already started to arrive and their chatter fills the air, alternating with the clinks of champagne flutes. You casually observe as greedy fingers grab at the delectable food and free alcohol that is meticulously displayed along elegant tables that dot across the property, the delicious aromas wafting through the evening air.

The scene laid out before you is like a page out of the society section of the newspapers. Always over-the-top, always impressive, Angelo Bronte spares no expense in his functions. Decadent food, expensive wines, extravagant decor. Always to impress the upper echelon of society. And yet, you have no desire to mingle with the high-society of St. Denis. From what you’ve seen, it’s hardly impressive to you.

You watch with disinterest over the crowd, observing from the elevated vantage point as people collect in small groups, then turn to whisper to each other like conniving socal piranhas the moment one of the fold turns to leave to join another circle. With a scornful roll of your eyes, you have no idea how you are going to make it through this evening unscathed.

And then, a collection of unknown men catch your eye. You’ve never seen them in Bronte’s circle before. And they clearly don’t belong. Under closer observation, this is an assembly of rugged looking gentlemen, a sharp contrast to the other guests in attendance tonight. Though they may have donned fancy tuxedos and hats, the way they carry themselves indicates they are not used to wearing such garb. Their eyes nervously shift all around instead of at whoever is addressing them as if more interested in what is happening around them rather than trying to assert social connections. Your bottom lip gets pulled between your teeth as your curious gaze lingers on them, trying to determine if they were invited or snuck in with the crowd.

As if he can feel your eye on him with the sixth sense of a trained outlaw, Arthur instinctively looks away from the men he is standing with and looks up towards the balcony of the great house and notices you. He doesn’t smile or even move for that matter, other than a single eyebrow lift as if in confusion. Your breath catches a bit at being caught staring. But yet you cannot bring yourself to break eye contact with the startling blue eyes gazing back at you from across the garden. And you can’t help the soft smile that blooms across your blushing cheeks at the ruggedly handsome man.

When the mystery man eventually turns his attention back to his companions, you shake your head back to reality and decide you’ve stalled long enough. It’s time to begin to make your way down to the garden party and get this over with. You leisurely stroll along the length of the wrap-around balcony of the house to the stairs that will carry you down to the patio. Your hand has to grip the railing of the staircase as you walk, as your dress is so tight that descending the stairs makes you out of breath. The boning of the corset digs painfully into your ribs and hipbones as you move. Such a dreadful, masochistic thing, you wonder why on earth women put themselves through such torture for the sake of fashion. Once at the bottom, you attempt to take a deep breath, bringing your fingertips to your temples before bracing yourself to join the guests.

First order of business, you scan the crowd to locate your host. It takes a few minutes, but you eventually lock-in on him when you hear his boisterous, condescending laugh echoing over the throng of people. Angelo Bronte really is a toad of a man. And despite his money and power, he is rather socially inept. Maybe it’s the fact that he's not from this country. Or maybe society is held differently in Italy. But either way, the elite here in St. Denis have mixed feelings about the wealthy man. Mixed as in, they like his wealth but do not care for the man. And that is where you come in.

Bronte’s idea is that having a beautiful, refined and charming woman on his arm will make him appear more distinguished. Your role in this little arrangement with him is to be the doting young paramore, helping him to navigate the social circles. No one needs to be the wiser that the two of you sleep in separate rooms on completely different ends of the house. But for appearances sake, Angelo Bronte has acquired himself quite the crown jewel with your presence.

As you meander through the crowd, you keep getting intercepted by random party guests, each one handing you a new glass of champagne. Your eye catches Bronte’s a few times as you mingle, as he checks to make sure you are performing as expected. Of course, the witty jokes, effervescent laughing and demure little smiles that emanate from you work according to plan. You can see Bronte pointing you out to guests from across the garden, a crude grin of approval splitting across the faces of the men he leans into, all chattering with hushed tones and hungry eyes. It’s enough to make your corset-restricted stomach turn.

After about forty five minutes of false chuckles and empty smiles, you are desperate for fresh air and peace and quiet, so you discreetly head to the rose garden which is off to the right side of the party, hoping to find less people there.

Wandering aimlessly through the maze of hedges and rose bushes, you manage to find a quiet little corner away from prattling visitors and raise your tired eyes to the heavens above. The smog of St. Denis covers the night sky and it leaves you with a heavy feeling of disappointment that even the vast galaxy of stars is being kept from you in this dreadful place. With a dispirited sigh, your tear-misted eyes slowly roll shut, attempting to find some sort of solitude from this hell on earth.

“Is this a safe place to hide?”

The sound of a deep, gravelly voice suddenly cuts into your mind, causing your eyes to snap open as you spin to see who is speaking to you.

And there he is. The handsome fellow who you were staring at from the balcony. He stands quietly, a slight smirk of amusement on his face. It takes you a few moments to realize that he is indeed real, no fantasy apparition to come to stand before you. Confused blinks skitter across your face as you take in the sight of him. Now that you are up close to him, you can see just how tall and broad-shouldered he is.

“Sorry, miss, I didn’t mean to startle you,” he offers when you hesitate to answer, his simple apology carrying little fanfare or bravado. Just a simple statement with no malice, no ill-content and no agenda towards you.

“Oh…no…you didn’t startle me,” you manage to stammer as you try to regain your composure.

The stranger’s ocean-blue eyes float across your frame, head to toe, assessing you with a slight tilt of his head. “You sure about that?” he jokes as he gives you a deeper smirk now.

Picking up on his genuine humor, you release the breath that you didn’t realize you were holding. “No, you’re fine,” you assure him. “I just needed a minute, is all. I didn’t expect anyone to be back here.”

When you lob a smile back at him in return, Arthur takes a gamble and begins to move slightly closer to you, specifically intent on maintaining this conversation. “Hmm, needing to get away from the herd? Is that it?”

The term causes a chuckle to erupt out of your throat. “Yeah, something like that.” You begin to step towards him as well, both of you moving slowly yet purposefully towards the other to close the gap between you until you are about three feet from each other. The air surrounding the garden is like that before a thunderstorm, exhilarating because it could be both beautiful and dangerous at the same time. The two of you stand quietly, simply staring at the other like a couple of clumsy teenagers not knowing what to say.

“No offense, but you don’t seem like you belong here,” you finally break the amorous spell with a raised eyebrow. As your words hover like a butterfly in his ears, you note the faded scars along the man’s chin, embedded into his tanned skin and nestled beneath his rugged beard that you can see was probably hastily groomed for this evening.

He doesn’t deny it, but counters almost playfully with “I could say the same for you.”

You flirtatiously narrow your eyes at him. “What makes you say that?”

He waves his large finger towards you. “You carry the same disdain for this place on your face that I do.”

Well, you have to admit, he’s got you there and all you can do is nod in agreement. “That obvious, huh?”

“Just a bit,” he chuckles, bringing his hand up to pinch his fingers together to accent his point. “It's ok, though. Glad I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to be here.” And he tosses a perturbed glace back over his shoulder towards the noise of the party.

“I guess that makes us two peas in a pod, then, doesn’t it?” you muse with a glittering smile that makes his chest tight.

A grin pulls at the corner of the stranger’s plump lips, causing his scarred chin to wrinkle. “I guess it does, doesn’t it?”

“My name is Y/F&LN”. You extend your hand out and his large hand completely engulfs yours, dwarfing your delicate fingers with his own. You immediately notice how his skin is rough, yet warm to the touch, his hand strong in a comfortingly protective way.

“Arthur Morgan.”

And the two of you hold each other’s gaze like a spark of electricity pulsing through the air to connect you. You can feel your fingertips go numb as your heart beats faster within your perfume-dusted chest. And Arthur hopes that you do not notice how he thickly swallows, flexing his now-sweaty hands before awkwardly kneading his thumb into the opposite palm.

But your beautiful little moment together is short-lived when you hear your name being called out into the night, snapping you back to the real world. And before you know it, a very anxious-looking Bridget appears from around the hedges, her eyes darting around, her lips pressed tightly together in worry.

“Miss Y/N, there you are! Mr. Bronte is asking for you.” She gives you a sharp wave in her direction before her eyes quickly slip to the burly gentleman to your right.

An embarrassed school-girl blush dusts your cheeks as you clear your throat. “Yes, of course, Bridget, thank you. I’ll be right there.” You turn back to Arthur. “Well, Mr. Morgan, it was very nice to meet you. If you will excuse me, please.”

“‘Course.” Arthur dips his head with a respectful nod as you float past him, your fingertips nervously tucking a few tendrils of hair behind your ear.

Bridget gives Arthur a good look up and down before she turns and follows behind you back towards the music of the garden party with a sly, smug smile drawn on her lips. “Maybe you’re more clever than you think,” she whispers impishly in your ear. You shoot her a cautionary look as you smooth your hands over the fabric of your dress, making sure that you are presentation-ready before you make your way to your host.

As you navigate the crowd to approach Bronte, you take notice that he is talking to the other men that came with Mr. Morgan. The moment he catches sight of you, Bronte’s face lights up.

“Ah, Miss Y/N! There you are! Come, Come!” He waves you over to stand next to him. “I’d like you to meet some special guests.” Bronte crudely clutches your hand, bringing it to his saliva-slick lips before eagerly wrapping it around his arm. “This is Mr. Van der Linde, and his associates, Mr. Williamson and Mr. Matthews. Gentleman, this is my…’companion’, Miss Y/LN.”

You force down the bile in the back of your throat that the toad conjures up as a graceful nod and accompanying smile adorns your pretty face when you turn towards the men you are being presented to. “Gentleman, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Miss Y/L/N,” Mr. Van Der Linde greets you as he flashes a sultry grin in your direction, boldly reaching his ringed hand to take ahold of yours that sits tucked in Bronte’s elbow. He brazenly brings your digits to his warm mouth to place a tender kiss along your knuckles. “Call me Dutch.” His dark eyes fully take you in with a glitter of mischief behind them. “Mr. Bronte is indeed a lucky man.”

Unlike Angelo Bronte, you find this new social contact of his to be quite charismatic and charming. And while most of the attendees of this event carry some level of bravado, this man standing in front of you seems to be quite different, the type to put his money where his mouth is.

Interest flashes through your eyes at this dark-haired stranger. And Bronte is quick to notice. With a deep scowl of disapproval, his arm quickly snakes around your waist, holding you possessively against him in the presence of these men, so tight that it makes you squirm against his grip. You are about to protest the moderately painful discomfort when Mr. Morgan suddenly joins the circle, his azure eyes immediately targeting the meaty hand that grips your hip before lifting to meet your grimacing expression. The sight makes his face turn dark with a menacing presence to it. It almost shocks you to see the stark contrast to his demeanor from your encounter a few moments ago.

“Quite the shindig you got goin’ here, Bronte,” Mr. Morgan says cooly, his statement breaking the tension of the social circle. “You always run things like this?”

The disapproval in your new friend’s voice causes one of the other men in his group (Mr. Matthews, is it?) to shoot him a glare of warning, to which Mr. Morgan shrugs off.

Bronte lifts his nose at the rub, but he will not be made a fool of so easily at the challenge. “Ah, I’m sure you country folk are not used to such luxury, yes?”

“Personally, I don’t care for it,” snarks Arthur with a snort of derision. “Hard to enjoy myself like a gluttonous pig when there’s people right outside the gate starvin’”

As you stand there next to Bronte listening to these men throw thinly veiled contempt at one another, you begin to feel dizzy. Your head starts to swim, spots dancing before your eyes, making your stomach lurch. But no one notices at first, except for Mr. Van Der Linde.

“You alright, miss?” Mr. Van Der Linde questions you with concern skipping across his dark features.

“Oh, yes,” you wave him off. “It’s just…just this heat…” You begin to fan yourself, desperate for some cool air to caress your face.

And suddenly the world around you starts to spin and your knees give way underneath you as if they move of their own accord. You begin to crumple in front of everyone and Dutch is quick to catch you just before you hit the ground, his strong arms shooting out to enfold you and ease you into the grass. The moment Arthur sees that you are in trouble, he promptly hovers over you as well, catching your hand into his own and placing himself between you and Bronte as things go dark in front of your eyes.

A collection of curious guests begins to gather around the spectacle, whispers and fingers discreetly pointing in your direction.

“The lady needs some air,” asserts Dutch as he kneels behind you.

Arthur is at a loss on what to do at first, but is quick to notice how restrictive the corset of your dress is, as your chest can barely move as you desperately gasp for air, your face turning red from the heat of the evening.

With a look of determination, Arthur’s rough hands wrap around your biceps and carefully lift the upper part of your limp body to lean against Dutch, who cradles you into his chest for support. Without a word, Arthur grabs at the fabric of your dress and quickly rips the corseted area wide open, easily tearing the seams under his hands, to release your lungs, exposing the delicate silk undergarments and bare skin hidden beneath. Shock slaps Angelo Bronte in the face as he stands behind Arthur, helplessly watching this embarrassing little scene unfold before his eyes.

Ignoring the judgemental gasps of the partygoers, Arthur then proceeds to snatch a glass of champagne out of the hands of one of the nosey women craning her neck to see the spectacle and tosses the liquid into your face. The moment the bubbly fluid hits your skin, your eyes instantly pop open as you deeply gasp, desperate to expand your lungs to draw in fresh air.

Arthur cautiously watches your face in anticipation as you rapidly blink the sweet nectar out of your lashes. Your eyes land on Arthur in confusion as to what has just happened before looking down at yourself and realize that you are now exposed to the whole party. But Arthur immediately takes off his jacket and lays it overtop of you as you sit nestled safely against Dutch who is still behind you. And Arthur breathes a sigh of relief when he recognizes the threads of alertness brightening your features once again.

“Get the hell outta here,” Arthur orders the crowd, waving them away with a wide arc of his long arm. “Nothing to see here, just a woman needing some air, is all.”

“Can you stand, miss?” Dutch’s deep voice carries softly over your shoulder and into your ear, anchoring you back to consciousness.

“I think so,” you venture, although the wavering in your voice is not entirely convincing. Your head is still swimming with confusion, but at least you can breathe now and the pounding in your temples has started to recede.

Arthur takes your hand again, his other slipping under your arm to guide you to your feet as Dutch carefully steadies you from behind.

“I don’t know what to say,” you say sheepishly looking up into Arthur’s worried face. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” Bronte suddenly bellows, finally finding his voice of outrage. “Thank you?! You make a scene in my house and you say ‘thank you?!”

“Easy, leave her be,” Arthur growls out, turning his threatening gaze to the party’s host. “Can’t you see the lady isn’t well?”

“No, she most certainly is not!” Bronte spits back in anger. His heartless, burning eyes now land back on you, his nostrils flaring wildly with impatience as his expression screws up into a hateful scowl. “Nuisance! I knew it was a mistake to bring you here” he hollers at you, flecks of spittle flying in your direction. “Should’ve left you at the station where I found you!” His finger thrown in your face causes you to shrink backwards, leaning your back into Dutch yet again, where the man’s hands protectively come up to cradle your arms.

But Arthur is not having any of it, protectively placing his large bear-like frame between you and Bronte, towering over the other man and desperately trying to refrain from landing his massive fist into his face. “You best keep that finger to yourself, Mr. Bronte, else I'll break it clean off.” Arthur’s tone is low and deep, his threat making a shutter cascade down your spine as you watch with baited breath for what is to happen next.

“Get out! All of you! Get! Out!” Bronte screams, waving at the group of newcomers. “And take that bitch with you, too!”

Your heart sinks as you watch the Italian spin on his heels and storm off towards the house, his arms flailing wildly as he vents his frustrations and anger out into the ether. The party has clearly ended now, as the guests murmur and whisper amongst themselves about the outrageous scene and begin to file out of the garden to leave.

Your head hangs a bit in shame as you nibble nervously on your pink bottom lip, holding Arthur's jacket over your chest like armor. You have no love lost for Angelo Bronte, but the idea that you now have nowhere to go is a little terrifying. You have no money, no provisions. Nothing.

Arthur turns to look at you, seeing your soft face frozen in stunned silence. His own countenance turns sheepish as he now realizes that he has cost you your home. “Sorry about that,” he mumbles, his hand coming up to rub behind his neck in embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to get you tossed out.”

“Don’t trouble yourself.” You shake your head and place a grateful hand along Arthur’s arm. “You probably did me a favor.” Your smile is warm and forgiving, but it doesn’t make him feel any less responsible for your new predicament. “But I meant what I said, Mr. Morgan. Thank you,” you whisper emphatically. Your gentle voice causes butterflies to flutter in his belly.

“You have anywhere to go now?” Arthur asks, his blue eyes burning into your own. God, how you could get lost in those eyes for hours.

Sadly, you shake your head, confirming his suspicions.

“Well, then,” interrupts Dutch from where he still stands behind you, “If that is the case, you are welcome to come with us, Miss Y/L/N.” He offers you another of his charming smiles as he holds open Arthur’s jacket as you slide your arms in, and he pulls the oversized garment protectively over your shoulders. He then offers you his arm to escort you away from the party, with his entourage in tow.

Arthur gives a lofty eye-roll to the heavens at Dutch’s attempt to swoon you, causing Mr. Matthews to chuckle at the interaction. But you smile graciously at Mr. Van der Linde’s offer as you gladly accept his arm and begin to walk with him. You look back over your shoulder and give Arthur a demure little grin, which he returns as he follows you and Dutch out to the front of the property towards the awaiting carriages with Mr. Matthews and Mr. Williamson close behind.

“Thank you, Mr. Van Der Linde,” you smile brightly up at him. “I just may have to take you up on that offer.”

Masterlist for more Arthur goodness

Taglist: @appalachiancowboy99 @rivetingrosie4

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #dutch van der linde

106 notes · View notes

alwritey-aphrodite · 10 months

Note

Omg could you do a little Drabble about slow dancing with Sejanus? Like holding each other close and him placing his head on top of the readers

The return of wingwoman Lucy Gray

Anyone who spoke with her for even a second could tell that Lucy Gray was multitalented. She was an incredible singer and performer, smart as a whip and beyond kind to those she believed deserved it, and willing to rain hell on anyone who crossed her or her loved ones. And, apparently, she was quite the wing woman.

It wasn’t that you were oblivious, exactly, you just never wanted to be caught being a fool or getting taken advantage of in any way, and it seemed unbelievable that anyone as perfect as Sejanus would spare you a second glance. The two of you talk for hours, crowded together in the back of the Hob, but you just assume he’s being nice to you, trying to keep you occupied so his friend could spend time with Lucy Gray.

You missed the way he stared at you when you weren’t looking, and you never caught on to the silent, slightly panicked conversations he had with Lucy Gray over your head or behind your back. Luckily for you and Sejanus, Lucy Gray knew exactly how your mind worked, and she was more determined than ever to make sure you understood exactly what Sejanus was trying to say without words.

“You wanna dance?” Sejanus all but shouted over the noise of the Hob, an explosion of applause as Lucy Gray took to the stage for the first time that night. You hesitated, a small voice in your head calling out that this is some sort of sick joke, but it’s like Lucy Gray can hear your thoughts all the way across the room, and she sends you a wink from the stage. You nod, turning to Sejanus and letting him lead you onto the floor, an impossibly adorable smile forming on his face.

The song is fast, and by the time it ends, you're laughing and out of breath, falling forward to rest your head on Sejanus’s shoulder as you wait for the next song to begin, reluctant to sit back down after all the fun you’re having. To your surprise, the next song is slow, one you know Lucy Gray wrote for the boy from the Capital. Sejanus seems to know exactly what to do, wrapping his arms around you just right and pulling you close before beginning to sway gently.

It’s like nothing exists except the two of you, rocking back and forth to the sound of Lucy Gray’s gentle voice, and you’re suddenly struck by the desire to do nothing but this for the rest of your life. For once in your life, your brain is quiet, and you don’t even think before tucking your head against Sejanus’s shoulder, the two of you now impossibly close. Sejanus reacts immediately, almost like he was hoping for this to happen, and he rests his head on top of yours.

You know the song should be over by now, you’ve heard it about a thousand times before, but the music keeps playing and you keep swaying around the dance floor, content in your own little world where nothing matters except for you and Sejanus. You can’t help but wonder if this was her plan all along, with that mischievous wink she sent you from the stage. You find that you don’t mind at all, and you make a mental note to thank Lucy Gray, just as soon as you can find it in yourself to pull away from Sejanus.

#sejanus plinth #sejanus plinth x you #sejanus plinth x reader #sejanus plinth fanfiction #sejanus x reader #sejanus x you #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

379 notes · View notes

kiddiewrites · 1 month

Text

I'll break every bone in your body while naning them pt.1

A story of an army doctor... and how they learn to take your strength into account.

Ok, im so so so sooooo sorry for not updating, life has been chaos lately but but but i bring to you a tiny story about the time someone tried to fuck around and found out.

Platonic!T.F.141 x reader, Minor Injuries , bit of OOC T.F. 141, pining!reader, Sexual Harassment (they get what they deserve), Not proofread

MASTERLIST

So medic!reader who’s all sunshine and cutey and nice, all soft curves and chubby cheeks and soft giggles but… strong. Like FREAKISHLY strong, there’s a reason your threat to Johnny wasn’t taken lightly by the others, they’ve seen you and they KNOW that you absolutely will do it.

What happened? Well it went like this:

One of the rare night’s out where you’re allowed a tiny leave you went to the pub with the guys, them being a little reluctant to you being there but at the end won over by puppy eyes and a promised first round.

We ALL know that civilian clothes do wonders for the boys, not really their usual outfits but …

GOOOOOD

The black jeans hugging Ghost’s powerful thighs and the deep gray loose hoodie (god knows where he got it cause… THAT’S a BIG MAN)covering almost every inch of skin. His blonde hair covered by a black cap with a few tufts peeking out of it, his face covered by a black surgical mask along with his black combat boots already making him look as his usually sexy scary self. Not that you were looking…

Johnny wore khaki shorts and mountain trainers (why? Idk he looks like a guy who would do it uwu specially if it’s cold af) A loose white t-shirt, though “loose” it’s a mild way to put it… The man is built like a tank (he has massive pillowy strong titties, fight me) so the shirt expands across his well formed chest, letting the fabric drop over his stomach. And don’t even get me started on the way the sleeves FIGHT to stay in one piece, his arms are almost the size of your face, his biceps bulging with every flex aaaand maybe stoooop staring.

Kyle decided on a bit more of a soft approach, dark blue jeans that seemed a bit too tight but not as intense as Ghost’s but still it was a nice view from the back, the light brown sweater he had on concealed a bit of the muscles he had built over the years, Key Word: A bit. The sweater bulged over the muscles of his arms and hugged his toned chest in every perfect way. Along with his freshly groomed mustache and beard… Kyle was a vision; the warm energy he exuded was enough to send your head spinning in the most delicious way.

The captain had a navy blue t-shirt, his strong arms making it seem tighter than intended, although not as tight as Johnny’s, the small pudge of belly hanging beautifully over his dark blue jeans, the dark brown belt and trainer boots tying it all together. His mutton chops recently groomed making him look even hotter than he already is (I swear to GOD Price has me on a chokehold 😍 Such a fine MAN 🤤)

Walking down the road to the jeep issued for your unit, you missed the glances headed your way from the boys, a cute warm baby pink sweater exposing your neckline and some of your shoulders, the cleavage stopping just right above your chest line, sleeves rolled up a bit to prevent them from getting in the way, tight ripped clear blue jeans paired with pink converse make you look even younger than you were, your (h/c) pulled back a bit just enough to get the hair out of your face by pins with a few strands falling from them. The boys knew that you’re a beautiful girl, seeing you in the more laid back outfit without the military issued uniform had them quickly looking away when you turned to look at them.

You took the middle seat with Kyle and Johnny by your sides, Simon climbed in at the copilot seat and the captain was driving. The drive to the pub was calm with a small talk with Kyle about the type of music you both enjoyed, Johnny joined in the conversation every now and then , Price smiled a bit at the sight of you getting along better with the team and even felt his grip on the wheel loosen a bit but he knew it was only temporary. Simon tried really hard to maintain his eyes on the road but his eyes couldn’t help but to deviate to the rear view mirror where he had a perfect view of your jean clad legs, the fat of your thighs relaxing against the hard seat of the jeep making it really hard for him to tear his eyes away.

However Simon was not the only one to notice the soft edges of your body moving and jiggling with the movement of the truck

Johnny had his arm placed around your headrest and everytime he turned to join the conversation he felt his side squishing you and it felt so good, the urge to just hug you by the waist and bury his head in your pretty tummy was… Intense

He was known to be some sort of a flirt and had a very friendly way with people, but lately he was being a bit short with you. You attributed it to the stress of the missions so when the opportunity came to take some sort of leave you took the chance, much to the starting annoyance of the team. They still treated you kindly but it was kind of disheartening.

When you arrived at the pub Kyle helped you down the van and offered his arm for you to take - Such a gentleman, Sarge.- You smiled up at him and took his arm into yours, your other hand resting over it. Your chest pressing against his arm was so soft and so warm, he felt himself blush as he smiled back at you.

Once inside it seemed like they had a designated table, the bartender smiled up at them and wave them at a tabla at the back -I’ll be right there boys!- a cute smile adorning his features he seemed well acquainted with them

John thanked him and led the way to the table with Simon and Johnny following behind both you and Kyle announced you were going for the drinks. The guys shouted back at you what they wanted and you headed up to the bar.

As you were walking a sudden slap at your booty had you wiping your head so fast Kyle thought you might snap your neck. It was all so sudden so you didn’t had the chance to pinpoint who the bastard was, but Kyle did.

An older man with obviously a lot to drink laughed loudly at your face along with his friends, Kyle immediately went up to grab him but the friends of the other men had you surrounded in a matter of moments.

-What’s tha matta, soldier boy? Yer net gonna tell me that fat ass wasn made to be slap’d aroun’ aren’t ya?-

If the look full of fury didn’t kill the man the right hook to the chin must definitely brought him to the edge of it. Thanks to the booze the friends of the drunk man had little time to react before they realized it wasn’t the man that threw the first punch…

It was you…

The strength of your punch was enough for the man to just fall to the ground with a Thump and gave enough time for the rest of your squad to get to where you were at.

The way you looked at the man had him scared enough to try and run away. Emphasis on "Try"

Simon grabbed the man by his collar and picked him up, you couldn’t really make out what he was saying, given that one of the drunk friends tried to lounge at you.

To their utter surprise they saw you fling that man over your head and into the ground nearly hitting his head against the edge of the table

- By all means, keep doing something stupid. Im begging you to give me the excuse -...

Tag List: @blackhawkfanatic @beebeechaos @d3vils-adv0c8 @azkza @asherwesley @praying-for-the-sun @woodlandgirl22-blog-blog @darling006 @aldis-nuts @theyarereal @thriving-n-jiving @talia-the-gemini @lilynotdilly @neonboy0 @sh4rksandst4rs Please remember to activate your tagging settings :D

#call of duty #cod fanfic #cod x reader #gaz x reader #john price x reader #simon ghost x reader #tf 141 x reader #john price #johnny mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #soap mactavish x reader #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #kyle garrick #kyle garrick x reader

97 notes · View notes

moonstruckme · 10 months

Note

hey :)) first off, i love the hozier caption in your bio. second, I’ve been reading so many of your fics recently and i think you’re sooo talented! i wanna be like you when I grow up (im 20 almost 21 lol)

anyways, I’ve never really requested anything but i wanna give it a try. I was wondering if you could do a poly!marauders x reader fic or a just remus x reader fic where’s she’s driving and accidentally hits an animal and is really upset about it but they’re there to help to her move it and comfort her.

i just hit a cat and im not taking it well. we think it was just a stray cause I left my number with it in case but no one has called. my family kinda, but not really, made fun of me for being so sad about it and i kinda just need something with the guys being so affectionate and loving with her after everything.

it’s totally okay if youre not up to it! I understand that it’s such a hard topic so I won’t be offended if you don’t feel comfortable writing in this.

thank you again and im sooo looking forward to youre future work!! you’re talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique, completely not ever been done before (lady gaga)

Mwah mwah mwah <3<3

-aves

(sorry this is so long)

Hi sweetheart, thank you so much! (Is your username a Lizzy McAlpine reference? I love that) I'm really sorry you went through this, I've been fortunate enough to have never hit an animal but I've seen it happen and it's so horrible, I'm really sorry you've been dealing with this :(( I think you did the right thing by leaving your number with it, and I hope the weight of that trauma and grief is starting to lift off you my love. Thank you for requesting <3

cw: mention of killing an animal, reader feeling guilty

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.8k words

James hears the door and is up instantly, bounding down the hall to greet you and Sirius.

“Hello!” he calls ahead, eager for company after being left alone in your flat for over a half hour. “You guys took your time today, I thought even Remus might beat you home. Was traffic a riot, or…”

Sirius is looking at him with panic in his blue-gray eyes, clearly trying to convey one of those telepathic messages James has never been great at interpreting, and you…you’re looking at nothing. Your gaze is distant as you work off your shoe, the area around your eyes puffy and gray with smudged mascara.

“Hey,” James breathes, then feels stupid. It sounds like he’s accusing you of something. He tries again. “Is everything okay?”

Sirius gives him a look that says What do you think? and crouches beside you to help with a stubborn knot in your shoelace. Your hands are trembling, James notices. Dread settles like a stone in his stomach.

“I’ve got it,” Sirius murmurs to you, fingers gentle as they intercept your own, but the alarm doesn’t leave his expression as he watches your face. Ah. As much as it kills James to see you upset, Sirius will have no idea what to do with you in this state. Tears have always set him on edge.

James squats, joining the two of you on the floor. “Hi, sweetheart.” He does his best to keep his own anxiety out of his voice as his hand finds your ankle, fingers wrapping around the bit of skin between the hem of your jeans and your socks. “Has something happened?”

Your eyes meet his already full of tears, and James braces himself. Sirius does too, by the look of it, his shoulders tensing as he watches your face like you’re about to crumble away to nothing right here on their doormat.

“I—” That’s all you get out before you have to bite down on your lip to keep from crying. A tiny whimper escapes, and spider web cracks spread across James’ heart. A sluggish tear leaks from your right eye.

“It’s okay,” he swears, though he has no way of knowing it. You press the back of your hand to your mouth, trying to quell the sobs that shake your frame even with no air to feed them. “Oh, honey.” James leans forward, wrapping you in an awkward but very heartfelt hug, your knees between his chest and yours but your head crossing the distance to wet his shoulder with your tears.

A sympathetic pressure builds in James’ sinuses, but he does his best to breathe through it. Stability tends to help you more than sympathy in these situations, and since Remus isn’t home yet, it’s left to James to be the reasonable one (Sirius would have all sorts of jokes to make about that, but he doesn’t seem to be feeling up to them either).

He gives you a few moments of reprieve, a few passes of his palm up and down your spine, before trying again. “What’s going on?” he asks, gently as he can. “You guys are scaring me. Sirius?”

Sirius’ brow pinches like he almost doesn’t want to say it either, and the anticipation in James’ chest heavies. “We were driving home,” he says slowly, keeping a wary eye on you lest he worsen your upset, “and a rabbit ran in front of the car.”

Relief nearly chokes James at the same time as a sympathetic sorrow takes ahold of him. He pets the back of your head. You tremble with the force of your crying, leaning into his touch greedily.

“She was driving?” he asks quietly, though he’s nearly sure. If your reaction isn’t enough to go off of, he already knows that you usually pick Sirius up from work and drive the both of you home.

Sirius nods.

“It doesn’t sound like there was anything you could do,” he murmurs to you, cupping the back of your neck to encourage you to look up at him. You do, sniffling as your lip quivers, and James uses his thumb to brush a wet streak of mascara from your blotchy cheek.

“It must have been so scared.” Your voice breaks on the last word and James’ heart along with it, leaving a throbbing wound in the center of his chest.

“I doubt it had time to be scared, honey,” he tries to reassure you, but his own voice is fraught. He looks to Sirius. “Did you…do you know if it…passed?”

Sirius is half hiding behind his hair, a sure tell of his disquiet, and it brushes his shirt collar when he nods again. “We weren’t sure at first, so I got out to move it off the road. It was dead.” He winces at his wording, and you bite down on your lip harshly. His tone softens as he addresses you. “I really don’t think it felt any pain.”

You look nowhere near ready to believe him, and James is preparing to offer to make you a cup of tea and let you sort out your grief at your own pace when the front door opens again, stopping when it hits Sirius’ side.

“Oh.” Remus pokes his head through. “Hello. Why are we all sitting on the floor?”

Sirius scoots the rest of the way out of the door’s path before deciding to stand instead. He speaks to Remus in a low voice while James runs a hand up and down your side in an attempt to soothe you. He locks eyes with Remus over your shoulder, watching as the taller boy’s gaze takes on the weight of understanding.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” Remus wraps Sirius in a half-hug, kissing his surprised boyfriend on the temple before stooping beside you. “That must have been awful to have to see. Let’s get you up, yeah?” He wraps a spindly hand around your forearm, more encouragement than anything, and James grips your other hand as he stands to pull you up with him.

Neither of them seem quite willing to break contact with you, walking you over to the couch like a newborn fawn despite your murmured I’m okay. Sirius follows close behind. The both of you look like you’re perching rather than sitting, unable to completely relax even now that you’re home.

“It must have been quite a scare,” Remus sympathizes, sitting on the edge of his favored armchair.

“A bit,” Sirius mutters, and your throat bobs.

Remus cocks his head. “What’re you thinking, darling?”

James almost wants to look away at the rawness in your expression as you raise your eyes to meet Remus’. “I just…I can’t believe I killed it. I’ve never” —your voice pitches, and you swallow again— “I’ve never killed anything before.”

“It was an accident,” James tells you, beseeching.

“You couldn’t have stopped,” Sirius says. His voice has an odd, desperate quality to it, and James sees Remus notice it at the same time as he does, both boys leaning forward to see Sirius better. For the first time, James notices—had he missed it before, or has it only just started?—that Sirius is trembling slightly too. James’ free hand twitches instinctively toward him, but his dark-haired boyfriend is only touchy when he’s in a good mood. He’s not keen on physical comfort; no matter how many years James has worked on him, Sirius has always preferred to keep his struggles internal. “Or avoided it,” he goes on. “It happened too fast.”

Remus nods at you. “As awful as it is, these things happen sometimes. Hopefully,” he adds when another tear slips down your cheek, “never again to you, but selfish as it is, I’m glad you didn’t slam on the brakes or anything else that could have gotten you and Sirius hurt instead.”

You glance at Sirius, and he gives you a weak smile, taking your hand and squeezing gently.

“Nothing you could have done,” he whispers.

Your lips tremble again. James watches as panic flashes in Sirius’ eyes, but he keeps it together. “I’m really sorry,” you tell him, voice wavering. “I shouldn’t have made you take care of the bunny by yourself.”

James' chest aches as Sirius takes a steadying breath. “You were frazzled. Understandably upset,” he corrects himself, squeezing your hand again. This time you squeeze back. “It was a one-man job anyway.”

You make a soft sound, leaning your head on his shoulder, and James has the sense something has settled a bit in each of you. He raises your joined hands to his lips, kissing the back of yours as Remus’ eyebrows furrow.

“Have you had a chance to wash your hands, love?” he asks Sirius, who blinks.

“No. I forgot.”

Despite the heavy atmosphere, James actually feels the beginnings of a smile tempting his lips as he watches Remus forcibly quell his horror. “Right, then. Why don’t we go do that in the kitchen now, and I’ll make us all some tea.”

“Good idea,” James says heartily, swiping his thumb back and forth over his own kiss on your hand. “Hey, could we take out the good cookies as well?”

Remus hums what James chooses to interpret as assent, shepherding Sirius into the kitchen.

“I’m sorry,” you say to James once the other two are out of hearing.

He looks down at you. “What for, sweetheart?”

You shrug, your shoulders remaining just a tad too high after the motion. You’ve stopped crying, and James is grateful, but he doesn’t think this shameful look is a vast improvement. “I feel like I’m being dramatic. And Sirius is the one who had to see it. He had to drive home too, I was too upset.”

James’ battered, broken heart wells for the both of you. He forgoes his attentions to your hand, wrapping his arm around your shoulders instead to tuck you against his side. “You’re not being dramatic,” he promises, “okay? You and Sirius were in the wrong place at the wrong time, and you both had to witness something awful.” Your head sinks onto his shoulder, and he rubs your upper arm. “I think it’s alright to be sad for a while. For yourselves, and for the bunny. Just, don’t torment yourself, alright?” He withdraws enough to see your face, and you tilt your gaze up to his. “Please. You don’t deserve the guilt.”

Your eyes cast down, contemplative and a bit shy, a moment before your head comes back to its spot on his shoulder. “Thanks,” you murmur.

“No thanks necessary, babe. You can cry all night if you need to, I’ll be right here. Just do me a favor,” he lowers his voice, glancing toward the kitchen, “let me sit between you and Sirius if you do. Many more tears and I think he’ll have a heart attack.”

520 notes · View notes