#i don't buy them too often so i've got to make it count | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ijwrsmff · 7 months

Note

hiiii, I was wondering if you could write live action mihawk and reader dining at the baratie?(it doesnt have to be meeting the crew, it could just be a date?) have a wonderful day! <333

I most certainly can!!! He was cast so well, my god. I don't think there's been any casting in the Live Action that wasn't just. Perfectttttttt. Sanji shows up briefly, but it's before he joined the strawhats. I've also only seen Mihawk's intro, so all my knowledge of this fic was based off that and what I know about him in the anime. So if things are a little bit off I'm sorry :,3 I plan to watch more tonight after writing for a while.

He's very soft in this one.

Word Count: 1,270

Today was special! It would be your six month anniversary with your boyfriend. It was odd at first, even considering dating the greatest swordsman in the world. He was cold and calculating, but he did have a soft side. You were glad you gave him the chance, and got to see it.

He was never embarrassed to be with you, and in fact…showed you off with pride. He would sit and feed you if you asked, doted on you, whatever you wanted. A dominant soul, but he was aware of that and embraced it. He would always be at your beck and call. Protecting you, even just with his status in the world. No one dared mess with you.

Mihawk had suggested the place that you met as your anniversary date. The Baratie, world renowned. Often people would sit on the waitlist around holidays, or even just weekends. But he never needed a reservation, he was a loyal customer at this point. It was a special place to you both, and it would be the perfect location for any anniversary.

“Would you like me to order for you?” He knew you could get anxious about ordering, so he always offered. You didn’t always even need him to, but it was a nice gesture. “What would you like? I could order it. Never worry about price, darling.” He smiled momentarily, not showing his smile often. Unless he was with you. It was heartwarming, to say the least.

Mihawk wasn’t the most wealthy man in the world…but he was pretty damn close. Not everyone can afford their own island and castle. But he certainly could, and with ease, too. He still managed to be humble, in some ways despite that fact. He would continue to buy you anything you could ever want. He’d make sure you got it, as soon as you did so much as to look at something for a few seconds.

“I’m okay! I can order this time.” You smiled at him, and he nodded in confirmation, smiling back momentarily. “What are you gonna get?” You looked through the menu for a little bit, trying to decide on some of your favorites. They always have such good food. It was hard to pick most of the time, and they probably knew it too.

“I’ll go with my usual, do you need help picking something?” He offered, always willing to help you. He could be so considerate, and kind. Not to everyone, but especially to you. “I can recommend something based on your likes and dislikes.” He smiled, this time for longer. He could always relax more when you were around. It may not look like it to others, but he was pretty relaxed right now, enjoying your anniversary with him as much as you were.

“Hm…I was thinking about these two, but I can’t decide which one I want more!” You looked at the menu for so long that you didn’t notice the waiter coming to your table until he spoke. It startled you a bit, and you jumped, making both the waiter and Mihawk chuckle.

The waiter’s name was Sanji, and he looked at you with what could have been hearts for eyes. But he knew better than to say anything after last time. Wouldn’t stop him from looking though. When you were here before, he had flirted with you. Mihawk…being him was confident you wouldn’t leave him for the waiter. But he did warn him with a “If you’d like to keep your hands, I suggest you keep them away from my partner.” He was protective, but you knew he wouldn’t actually fight the waiter.

Mihawk didn’t result to violence, so you knew it was an empty threat. His amused look he directed at you proved that fact. Sanji didn’t know that though, and raised his hands in defeat, saying you’d be protected well by the greatest swordsman in the world. “Allowed” Mihawk to be with you. Because apparently according to him you needed that affirmation. It was amusing to the both of you, at least.

Dinner went by smoothly, and you talked the majority of the time. Mihawk was an amazing listener, but not too much of a talker. He was more content to listen to everything you said, and his memory was so good he had no problem remembering all the stories you told. Sometimes he would pitch in, or ask active listening questions to show you had his undivided attention.

Out of nowhere though, he tilted his head and looked at you as if you were the brightest star in the sky, uttering an “I love you.” As you were about to finish your food. He did like to throw that out there often, and only became more frequent as your relationship progressed. “Would you like to order a dessert?” It was another way he said he loved you. By offering you what he could effortlessly provide.

“Mhm! And I love you too.” You giggled and finished your food, as he flagged down the waiter and ordered your favorite dessert they had. You didn’t even have to tell him what it was, he remembered. He always did. “Would you like to share it?” Was your offer, though you already knew his answer.

“One bite will suffice. The dessert is for you, afterall.” He smiled, and allowed you to talk until the dessert arrived. Once it did, he opened his mouth expectantly, waiting for you to feed it to him.

You did so, without being prompted to. It was always so cute to you when you fed each other. He could care less if the people in the restaurant saw the display of affection. He swirled the spoon with his tongue, making eye contact with you the whole time.

“You’re such a tease!” You giggled and he smiled softly. It was a funny and domestic moment, and it made you say, “I do love you though. No matter how much of a tease you can be.” As you winked at him. He winked back, but relaxed in his seat while you ate.

Reclining a bit, you finished the dessert. He talked for a bit through it, mostly how his island was doing since you hadn’t been to it in a couple weeks. As much as you loved him listening, he had such a soothing voice. It was cool, and deliberate. He never said something that wasn’t important. Or a compliment to you, which was just as important to him as it could be.

He packaged up your remaining entre for you, and stood up to leave. “That was a wonderful date, darling.” He said as he left the money on the table. It had a generous tip, since he always makes sure to do so. “Would you like me to drop you off at your island?” His arm was around your waist, to make sure you didn’t fall off when getting onto his small “boat”.

“I wouldn’t mind spending time on your island! I know we won't get back anytime soon…but it’s your home.” You smiled, and sat on his lap when he made his place on the boat. “I’d like to spend more time with you!” He wrapped his arms around your middle, and the boat began to move.

“One day it will be OUR home. I never mind spending more time with you, either.” He sighed, and rested his head on your shoulder. “Whenever you’re ready, it can be yours.” He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, making you giggle.

“We’ll have time. As long as you’ll have me.”

“Now and always.”

#mihawk x reader #dracule mihawk x reader #established relationship #x reader #gn reader #opla mihawk x reader #one piece x reader #fluff #request

531 notes · View notes

familyvideostevie · 1 year

Note

OH EM GEE LOVED THAT GRUMPY X SUNSHINE FIC WITH JAMES SO MUCH, I was wondering about a grumpy!sirus and sunshine!reader/ sunshine and sunshine protector (omg that trope with a platonic marauders 😩😩) I lvoe your writing so much babe <333

thank you thank you! here is some grumpy!sirius and sunshine!reader. i still don't know that i've got this trope totally down correctly but hope you like it anyway! :) | fem!reader, fluff, 1k

You can hardly hear Remus when you pick up the phone. You check the clock on the wall. It's time for him to be at the pub with James and Sirius, so you're not sure why he's calling.

"Hello?" you say.

"Oh, thank fuck," Remus cries. If he's cursing, you know something is up.

"What's wrong? Is Sirius there?" You expect that maybe he's gotten into trouble with another patron or that he's let his phone die and asked Remus to tell you.

"Is that her? Did you get her? Beg her, Remus. Tell her I'll buy her drinks for a week!" James is shouting in the background to be heard through the phone.

"I'm handling it," Remus calls back. You pull the speaker away from your ear as he does. What is going on? "Sorry," he says, much quieter now. He must have cupped his hand over the microphone. "Listen, can you come out to the pub? Our regular one?"

"But it's boy's night," you say. They invite you round more often than not, but it's important to you that they get to have their time as mates, too.

"I know," he sighs. "But--" There's a bit of a commotion and a lot of cursing and then James comes on the line.

"Please, for the love of all that is good and holy, can you come 'round? Your boyfriend is being miserable and it's going to get us kicked out. And this is my favorite spot!" Your stomach ties itself in a knot. Sirius? He hasn't texted you about anything concerning beyond reminding you that he'd be home later than usual.

"Is he okay?" James must hear your concern because he backpedals.

"Oh, yeah, he's fine, love, honest. We just ran into that tosser Lestrange on the way over and he's a bit sour. Family drama, and all that. Can you just come and get him to chill the fuck out, please?"

You're already reaching for your purse. It still makes you a little giddy that everyone knows you're the one who Sirius responds to the most. For some reason you can always bring him out of a mood, and you like doing it. "I'll be there in fifteen minutes or so."

"Is she coming?" Remus calls from the background. "Can I have my phone back now, please?" You end the call and shove your feet into your shoes and head out the door. You're not really in a pub-going outfit, but it'll have to do. You know that Sirius won't care much.

When you get to the bar you shoulder your way to the back where you know they'll be. Familiar faces call out your name and you wave to them, dispensing smiles and greetings with genuine happiness.

Your heart swells when you finally get to the back booth. Sirius is sat on one side, glaring at the beer in his hands. James and Remus are chatting to some other friends close by. As soon as you take a step towards your boyfriend, he looks up, like he sensed you coming. And his entire body transforms. He sits up straighter, his hands loosening their grip on the glass. He doesn't smile, not quite, but his jaw unclenches and his pupils dilate.

You beam at him. He quickly scoots out of the booth to greet you, hands outstretched as you reach for him in turn.

"My girl," he says, kissing your cheek before pulling you in for a hug. "What are you doing here?" Sirius rarely sounds delighted unless he's talking about how his club crushed their rival or how he managed to trick James into glueing his hand to his face, but this is pretty close.

You shrug in his hold. "Got bored at home." He pulls away and smoothes his thumb over one of your eyebrows.

"Hmm," he says. "Try again." You laugh, loudly and freely, and that does get him to smile. Only a little, but you count it as a victory. His smiles are like treasures and you keep them all in a lock-box in your chest.

"Remus called," you tell him honestly. He makes an annoyed noise, looking over his shoulder to glare at his friends. Both of them resolutely keep their gaze elsewhere.

Sirius leads you back to the booth and you settle in next to him, thigh pressed to his. He drapes an arm around you. Seeing that the danger has passed, James and Remus slide in on the other side.

"I told them not to bother you," Sirius says, frowning. But his hands betray him, one curling around your shoulder and the other resting warm and heavy on your kneecap.

"As if this is a bother," you scold. "Plus, James said he'd buy my drinks." You look at your t-shirt -- and old one of Sirius', and frown. "I wish I had thought to change, though."

"No," he says quickly. His fingers tuck under the collar to press into your bare skin. "No, I like this."

"It's fucking magic," Remus mutters from the other side of the booth. "Unbelievable."

James has his head in his hands. "It's like he didn't tell me to shove my head up my ass ten minutes ago." Sirius flips them off and leans in close, pressing his lips to your ear.

"It's obvious you're wearing my shirt," he says, voice gravely. You flight the urge to shiver. "Got me thinking all kinds of inappropriate things over here."

"Alright, you're going to get us kicked out for a different reason," James whines. You look at him and he winks. It's obvious that you're the keeper of Sirius's happiness and no one minds all that much, considering they love him. You all do. It's the easiest thing in the world.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #marauders fanfiction #marauders

2K notes · View notes

maraschinomerry · 2 months

Text

Meddling Git

Pairings: George Karim x gn!reader

Summary: When George connects with Arif's new shop assistant, Lockwood makes it his mission to make more opportunities for them to meet

Content: fluff, meddling Lockwood, insecurity about agent work, slight mention of blood

A/N: I'm back!! After an unintentional 7 month hiatus, I've finally been inspired to write again! I've also decided to switch from using (name) to y/n if anyone has any opinions on that. Thank you to everyone who shared anniversary/meet content for reminding me how much I love this fandom, and all my love to the multiverse of George chat for giving me so much inspiration and encouragement 💛

Word count: 4k exactly!

Taglist: @neewtmas @marinalor @ettadear @honey-with-tea @mischiefmanaged71 and also tagging @bobbys-not-that-small @bella-rose29 @oblivious-idiot @uku-lelevillain @lewkwoodnco

Lockwood, Lucy and George marched proudly towards Arif's. They'd completed another house call and been tipped generously by the owner, so Lockwood had promised to treat the team to breakfast. Of course, with the first rays of the morning only just beginning to peek through the clouds, there weren't any cafes open yet.

“I'll cook,” George offered, “as long as you buy the ingredients…”

“Of course.”

“...and those strawberry cream doughnuts.”

“Fine,” Lockwood rolled his eyes dramatically. Lucy grinned.

The bell above the door rang out lightly. Only agents would be around at this hour, and Lockwood & Co was the only agency who ever came to Arif's. In fact, their presence was so regular that the boy who worked the morning shift, Max, would greet them before they even came into view. Today, however, the shop remained silent.

“Morning, Max!” Lockwood called over a shelf when the quiet lasted a moment too long. “I don't suppose you have any of the strawb-” He hesitated as the group rounded the corner and finally came into view of the counter.

—

You frowned a little to yourself at the gentle chime of the bell. Surely there wouldn't be anybody about this early? Though you couldn't see the front door from behind the counter (a bit of a security flaw, you reckoned) there was a small window to your left which showed only the slightest hint of sunlight. Then again, Arif had mentioned a group of agents that would come by often. You weren't aware there was a local agency, but you were so new to both the area and the job that you didn't like to question it. The bell had been followed by overlapping footsteps and more than one hushed voice. Maybe this was them.

“Morning, Max!” one of the voices suddenly spoke up, a little deeper than you expected but unmistakably that of a boy and not a man. The footsteps drew closer. “I don't suppose you have any of the strawb-” At last the owner of the voice appeared from behind a shelf. The words stuttered to a stop, as did the movements of the tall boy in the black overcoat. Behind him, a girl in a blue jumper almost ran into him with the sudden pause.

“You're not Max,” she stated bluntly.

“No, I'm not.”

“Is he…?”

“Moved back to Cornwall with his parents,” you reassured her. You knew what it was like, wondering whether someone's absence meant the Problem had claimed another victim. “I'm y/n.”

“Well,” the boy cut back in with a charming smile, “morning, y/n. I'm Lockwood, this is Lucy, and George is around somewhere. As I was saying, do you happen to have any of those strawberry cream doughnuts?”

You returned his smile with one of your own as you fetched a square box from the chilled cabinet. “You're in luck, but I suppose you'll have to fight over who gets the fourth.”

“We won't,” another boy piped up from the far corner of the shop - George, you assumed. “If I'm making breakfast, I'm calling dibs.” Lucy giggled and you felt yourself suppressing one of your own.

“You'll have to forgive George, he's-” Lockwood began.

“No, no, he's got a point.”

“Finally, somebody gets it!” George's voice sounded triumphant, and much closer than before. After a beat, he arrived and you were able to put a face to the voice.

George was taller than Lucy but a little shorter than Lockwood, with dark curly hair and round glasses. Under his jacket was a vibrantly orange T-shirt, and in his arms he cradled a carton of eggs and a few different vegetables. He shuffled closer, attempting to place the produce on the counter without dropping the eggs but having trapped his hand in too awkward a position to keep a good hold of them.

“Let me,” you found yourself leaning over the counter, your fingers brushing the crook of his elbow as you rescued the carton and set it down gently. The boy blinked at you in surprise before quickly recovering and placing down the bulb of garlic he was holding. “What are you making?”

“Gojeh farangi, a sort of omelette.”

“Sounds good.” You handed him the ingredients, now bagged, and slid the box of doughnuts towards him as well. Lockwood stepped forwards with a handful of cash, and George shrunk back.

“It's been a pleasure meeting you, y/n,” Lockwood gave you another of those smiles. You got the sense he was the head of the team, the diplomat, the charisma. “No doubt we'll see you again.”

“Nice to meet you all too. I'll be here most mornings, in case you want to beat the regular crowd to the good doughnuts.” Without realising, you found yourself directing the latter part to the other boy, and you could have sworn you saw a flush tint his cheeks as he gave a slight smile and a nod of acknowledgement. What you didn't see was the glance exchanged by the other two.

—

The trio were back at Portland Row, the kitchen filled with the smell of fresh tomatoes and the glow of a job well done.

“Y/n seemed nice,” Lucy remarked as casually as possible.

“Mm,” Lockwood agreed into his cup of tea. “What did you think, George?”

They turned their attention quite unsubtly to their friend at the oven. He stayed with his back to them, and they couldn't be sure it was just because he was focused on breakfast, as he shrugged. “Suppose so. Didn't get much chance to judge.” He turned at last, not making eye contact as he slid two plates across the table.

“Ah well,” Lockwood continued after thanking George, who had turned away to collect his own plate, and he took the opportunity to throw Lucy a conspiratorial wink. “Plenty of time for that.”

Lucy almost choked on her mouthful.

The next day, George was halfway down the main stairs on the way to the training room when Lockwood poked his head out of his room. His hair was dishevelled, the collar of his shirt was wide open and his tie was hanging loosely around his neck.

“Ah, George! Do me a favour and run down to Arif's? We're out of detergent.”

“Why can't you go?”

“I've got that meeting with Mrs Pemberley to go over the details of the case and I'm running late as it is.”

“And Lucy-”

“Has gone to see Barnes.”

“Right.”

George held the door open for an elderly man just leaving the shop before slipping inside. He made his way to the detergent, stopping for a packet of chocolate digestives. Seeing you at the counter made him falter a little. You'd said you worked mornings, but it was almost lunchtime and he thought someone might have taken over by now.

“Oh, hello,” you greeted him cheerily. “Didn't hear you come in. George, right? Are your friends with you?”

“Just me,” George huffed. You picked up on the huff and wondered whether he was just having a bad day. From the small interaction you'd had yesterday, he seemed to get on well with his fellow agents and his annoyance was playfully exaggerated. Was it too soon to play along? You'd only met him yesterday. Then again, it was ordinary enough for shop workers to make conversation with the customers, and you wanted to at least try and make an effort at this new job.

“One of those days?” you prompted.

“Tell me about it.” The response was dry but not sarcastic, and you got the sense that he would have opened up more if he knew you better.

“Surely these will help,” you held up the biscuits as you passed them back to him, which earned you a slight smile. That was all you got, however, as he paid and walked away with only a muttered thanks. For some reason, you found yourself fishing for a way to make him stay and talk more. There weren't many people your age who came by while you were on shift (not many people at all, to be honest), as most of them worked the night shifts and barely went out and about until later in the afternoon. You just wanted someone, anyone, to talk to, and he was right there and getting further away by the second. Plus, you couldn't deny you were intrigued.

“Can I ask you something?” you blurted.

The boy turned, curiosity colouring his gaze. For a moment, you thought he'd still leave, but he came towards you and placed the detergent bottle back on the counter with a thud. You continued, “Which agency do you all work for? I noticed your rapiers yesterday, and Arif mentioned you being in the area, but I wasn't sure where."

George brightened. “We're Lockwood & Co, on Portland Row.”

—

A few more days passed, and the longer it went on the more George was unable to stop thinking about the new shop assistant. There was something about their question - most people didn't pay much notice to off-duty agents, much less care about which agency they were from. Sure, Arif had mentioned or warned them about Lockwood & Co, so perhaps it was just polite conversation, but they'd seemed genuinely invested in the answer. And with the shop opening in the early hours specifically for agents, it often took someone with Talent of their own to be brave enough to be out so early. Maybe…

His thoughts were interrupted by Lucy wandering into the study. She flopped into the armchair opposite, trying not to pay too much attention when George peered at her over the top of his book.

“Everything okay?” he asked. It wasn't often Lucy joined him for research.

“Lockwood's going to buy food so I thought I'd come and hang out with you. Don't mind me,” she shrugged. George took that rather literally, turning his attention back to the book on his lap. In the distance, they heard the front door open and close again, marking Lockwood's exit.

Lucy spoke again. “Oh, I almost forgot! He said we're out of cornflour but can he just use baking powder instead?”

George's eyes widened, and Lucy heard him mutter something particularly cutting as he dropped his book onto the arm of the chair and darted from the room. Moments later, the front door sounded again.

Lockwood turned in his stride and met George with a sharp grin, almost like he was expecting the other boy to come after him.

“I take it we do need cornflour, then?”

“You're such an idiot.” George fell into step beside him, and the two walked quietly for a while. George wondered whether it was worth going back to the house at all after this or whether to carry on to the Archives; it was early enough in the day that they might not be full yet. At least it would mean not being a part of whatever scheme his friend seemed to be cooking up.

—

You were greeted by Lockwood remarkably quickly after the bell alerted you to his presence, but he barely got a word in before you apologised, explaining that you hadn't meant to be rude when you first met, you just didn't know the agency to put his name to it.

“It was only when George explained-”

Almost as if you'd summoned him, the curly-haired boy stepped into view and gave you a small nod.

Lockwood's grinned, wider than before. “You didn't tell me you'd been chatting to y/n, mate.” He turned his attention back to you. “You must have quite the impact if you're getting more out of him than I am.”

A glowing warmth spread through your cheeks, and instinctively your eyes flew to George, whose expression reflected your own. The other boy glanced between you both with delight. “I suppose so,” you mumbled. “I was just curious because-”

“You have Talent.” It was George who had spoken, and he moved forward with his gaze levelled on yours. The words were spoken not as a question or a statement, more like a realisation. It struck you that behind the unassuming first impression the boy gave off was a quiet but brilliant intelligence for him to have figured you out so quickly. Very few people ever figured you out at all, especially not about your Talent.

“How did you know?”

George seemed to suddenly realise how close he'd come, practically leaning over the counter to study you; he pulled away and dragged his gaze to his shoes. “Educated guess.”

Lockwood, on the other hand, was having none of it, eyeing you up mischievously. “Don't be so modest,” he elbowed his friend in the ribs. You tried very hard not to fixate on the way the movement tightened his shirt across his chest and waist. “He's not our researcher for nothing, he's a genius.”

George sighed, but his head lifted with a burst of confidence. “I figured you must to feel safe working here before dawn, I just wasn't sure why you're not an agent. Oh, and the iron cross above the counter is new.”

There wasn't a single other person this week who'd noticed the cross you installed on your first day. This boy was really something.

“Wow,” you breathed subconsciously. George's cheeks reddened; this time he was definitely blushing. As for why you weren't an agent, what were you supposed to say? That you were less scared of the Visitors than you were of never finding your place within a team or worse, finding the right people but then losing them? How could you possibly explain that to him? So you didn't, and after a few more pleasantries Lockwood headed for the door. George threw you a backwards glance and a small wave, and the butterflies that had appeared in your stomach waved back.

Lockwood was positively beaming as they stepped out into the midday sun. Golden rays danced across his face, the air was mild, a soft breeze ruffled through his coat. It was all far too cheerful.

“What's got into you?” George frowned. “I haven't seen you this happy since we watched Kipps fall over his own rapier.”

“Am I not allowed to be happy?” Lockwood feigned outrage, clutching his chest. “And it's you that I'm happy for!”

George stopped. “What?”

“Come on, I've known you long enough to see there's something between you and y/n. Why don't you ask them out?”

“It's not like that! We've only spoken a couple of times, I don't know them well enough for anything like that.”

“If you say so…”

—

God, Lockwood was insufferable. He'd abandoned all subtlety, and it was driving George up the wall.

The smell of strong black coffee drifted up the stairs as George drifted down them. Lockwood had booked a big case for that night with absolutely no background information, so he'd spent the whole night on initial research. Hopefully caffeine would keep him awake long enough to get through the day.

Lucy was standing by the toaster, wielding a butter knife and humming to herself. George slumped into his usual chair with a groan.

“Coffee? Toast?” she offered.

“Please.”

“Sorry,” Lockwood appeared from the basement. “That's the last of the bread, you'll need to pick up more while you're out today.”

“You're joking,” George looked up. “There's still three slices in the bag there.” This was the third time this week he'd pulled something like this. The first was ‘accidentally’ stepping on an entire packet of biscuits. The second was announcing the milk was off, pouring it down the drain before anyone could check with enough force that it splashed back and went all over his trousers. And now this.

Lucy opened her mouth to respond, but Lockwood was faster. Before anyone could react, he pulled out the remaining slices, folded them all in half and took a massive bite. When he unfolded them, it left a gaping hole down the middle of all three slices, which he held up and peeked through triumphantly.

“You're ridiculous,” George scowled.

“ ‘m miwwian’” Lockwood mumbled around the wad of bread in his mouth.

George wanted to put his foot down. He didn't want to let Lockwood win. He knew he'd be so smug about it. But he also knew that every time he was sent to Arif's he stayed a little longer, talked a little more, watched you smile a little brighter. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he'd started looking forward to being sent out for things.

“Oh hey, Georgie!” Your face lit up when he entered the shop, and he smiled back. You weren't sure when you'd started calling him Georgie, he'd been here so often it was hard to tell which day was which any more. Not that you were complaining - he was easy to talk to, more interested in your Talent than anyone else had been, understanding when you'd finally explained your concerns about becoming an agent, and undeniably cute on top of all that. “What do you need today?”

“A boss who's not a meddling git,” he scowled dramatically, “...and milk.”

“I can only help with the second one,” you teased as you made your way out to the shop floor. Speaking to him from behind a counter felt so impersonal now, so you'd taken to wandering round the shop with him. You really hoped he didn't think you were overstepping or anything. As far as you knew, he thought of you as just the shop assistant, nothing more. You hoped it was more than that, could be more at least.

Another customer came and went, and George was still there, enraptured by your opinions on the Problem. He'd taken up a stance leaning against the shelves, one hand tucked into his pocket and looking the most relaxed you'd seen him since that first time he came into the shop. A light smile played across his face as he watched you hop onto the counter, not breaking your train of thought at all.

“I should get on before my shift finishes,” you sighed eventually. George immediately stepped forward and offered his hand to help you climb back down. His skin was warm and slightly calloused. You stumbled a little as you hit the ground and his other hand flew to your elbow, eyes scanning yours in concern.

“Thanks,” you murmured, painfully aware of how close you were. You'd put your hand out to steady yourself; it was clutching at the soft fabric of his orange plaid shirt. His eyes met yours once more and you both hastily pulled away.

“I'd better get back,” he cleared his throat.

“To the meddling git?”

He chuckled, a low sound which rumbled pleasantly in his chest. “Exactly. We're, um, we're out on another case tonight, but I'll see you soon, okay?”

“I hope so,” you replied, hoping he knew you didn't just mean because he made it back safely. “We'll have those doughnuts you like again tomorrow, if you're back in time.”

“I'll definitely be here for that,” he grinned.

—

It had been a hell of a night. The man who hired them had tried to bolster his ego by downplaying how intense the Visitors were. ‘A couple of Type 1s’ had turned out to be three particularly vicious Type 2s and it had taken until dawn to neutralise all the sources. The team emerged into the dewy morning covered in dust, rubble and, in George's case, blood. He'd taken a piece of debris to the face and, while it wasn't a serious injury, it had left him with a small cut which throbbed when he spoke. They were quite far from home too, and it was almost midday before they made it back to Portland Row.

George flopped onto a sofa in the living room as soon as they were through the door, while Lucy fetched the first aid kit. She sat down next to him, clicking open the case, and her face paled even more than it had with the exhaustion.

“We're out of antiseptic.”

“Lockwood,” George glared at his friend. He really wasn't in the mood.

“This isn't me this time! Look, you stay here and rest, I'll go and get more. Anything else we need?”

George pushed himself up to his feet. At least venting to you might make him feel better, and you had promised him doughnuts. “It's fine, I'll go.” Lockwood glanced at Lucy, taken aback by his insistence. He'd only been teasing George about going to see you, he never expected it to actually work.

“Please tell me you've still got those doughnuts, y/n,” George groaned as he pushed open the door to Arif's.

“Sorry,” came the reply from a voice distinctly unlike yours, as Arif glanced up from the shelf he was reorganising. “They took the last box at the end of their shift, maybe ten minutes ago.”

The last glimmer of hope that George had harboured fizzled out in his chest. Of course there was going to be no silver lining to the day. He was tired, he was hurt, and he didn't even get the doughnuts he'd been holding out for. Worse than that, though, he finally admitted to himself (and practically to his friends too) that he wanted to see you, that he liked you, and for what? Of course you weren't, you'd finished work and why on earth would you stick around just in case he showed up? It was unreasonable, he knew, but he couldn't help but feel disappointed. He'd have to wait until tomorrow, when he'd recovered a bit and could have a proper chat to you about everything. Ranting with Lockwood and Lucy was alright - they'd been there, they knew what he went through - but you were so gentle and understanding with him every time that he was desperate to hear your thoughts.

A figure on the steps of 35 Portland Row made George stop in his tracks. A new client, perhaps. Nothing unusual there.

The figure turned.

“Georgie?”

His face split into a grin the instant he recognised you. You'd changed out of your plain uniform into more casual clothes. The vibrant colours made you look almost radiant.

“Y/n, what are you doing here?”

You shuffled awkwardly on the step, suddenly aware of just how much of a risk you were about to take.

“When you didn't show up this morning… well, I was worried about you on the case. And I know I said I was scared of becoming an agent in case I made friends with my team and then lost them, but I realised I could just as easily lose you like this and I'd never get to really know…” George watched you in awe, silently gravitating closer with every breath. Your own breath was trembling, the sound of it echoing from your chest up to your ears. Finally, he was close enough that you noticed the stark red line on his cheek. “Oh my god, you're hurt.” Just imagining him in pain sent ice through your veins.

“I'm okay,” he assured you gently. “Just a scratch. I've just been to Arif's for antiseptic and…” he looked almost as nervous to speak as you, “I missed seeing you.”

You wanted to reach out to him, to take his hand or hug him close, but instead you held up the box you'd forgotten you were holding. “Me too. I brought those doughnuts just in case, figured you might need the extra one.”

His expression softened. “It's not an extra if you're here. I mean, if you want? You could come in and we can share them with the rest of the team.” Team. He gave you a look that showed he meant the implication behind it. You were one of them now, if you wanted to be. With a smile, you wound the fingers of your free hand into his and allowed him to lead you into the house.

#lockwood & co #george karim x reader #george karim #gn!reader #save lockwood and co #anthony lockwood

130 notes · View notes

feelbokkie · 1 year

Text

🐺How he would react to you being a werewolf🐺

☀️Feelbokkie M.list☀️

genre: werewolf au, crack, some fluff

pov: 2nd person

description: you're a werewolf and this is how each skz would react (gifs have nothing to do with the writing)

pairing: bf!skz x gn!werewolf!reader

warnings: lycanthropy(?), fluff, suggestive, swearing, let me know if I missed anything

word count: 1,222

방 찬 (Bang Chan)

Would almost definitely try to get you to howl in the soundbooth for a song

Has fun testing your hearing by playing frequencies only dogs can hear and adding them to songs like an easter egg for you

If you're going to a concert he'll make sure you aren't in a crowded spot, you have noise canceling protection headphones, and if there are going to be any fireworks he will warn you

Wolfgang is unironically your favorite skz song

It started off as a joke, because of course your favorite song would be the one where your boyfriend is barking in your ear

You are in possession of the chain collar necklace that he wears in the Kingdom performance and you wear it religiously

Is in the studio almost every day but if it's a full moon he'll make sure to leave early or take the day off so he can keep you company

이 민 호 (Lee Min-Ho)

Has a spray bottle and will use it on you

Like an actual dog

"Get off the couch!" *Spray*

He's joking but he has too much fun with the spray bottle

One time you annoyed him so much that he bought a dog bed

As a joke he served your dinner in a dog bowl and put it on the floor

He slept in the dog bed that night

Got you a pup cup from Starbucks one time as a joke, but you loved it so much that it confused him bc it's literally just whipped cream in a small cup

Keeps small cups and whipped cream at his dorm just for you

Found out by accident that you don't like thunderstorms

Will just swaddle you with a weighted blanket and shove noise canceling headphones on your ears either with music or a drama playing

Will feed you snacks in your anti thunder cocoon

Doesn't hug you often but will pat your butt or head frequently

서 창 빈 (Seo Chang-Bin)

He's naturally loud but speaks quietly around you because of your dog like hearing

Bought you those ear protection noise cancelling headphones, like the ones they give babies, so you can go to their concerts

Will immediately go take a shower when he comes back from the gym and you're hanging out at his dorm because your sense of smell is also like a dog's

Takes you with him to the gym sometimes so you can be a little stronger physically and be affected by the change a little less

You mostly do cardio

Has fun with it

"Are these dog treats?" "They're good for your teeth and will keep your coat silky smooth."

"Binnie, did you buy me shampoo?" "Yeah, here." "... This is dog shampoo." "Human shampoo isn't good for dogs." "Pissing me off isn't good for your health."

"I love you and that stuffed animal is cute but if it squeaks, I'm going to lose my shit." "I've got a few returns to make..."

황 현 진 (Hwang Hyun-Jin)

You're basically a giant dog to him

Makes him sad that Kkami loves you better than him

"We have a bond that you can't understand." "Can you talk to dogs?" "No." "Then what do you--" "We have to put up with you."

Pouted for an hour

His hands always find their way in your hair, petting you

Refers to your full moon days as your time of the month

"It's almost your time of the month, do you have everything you need?" "Please, for the love of fuck, stop calling it that." "What else would I call it?" "Literally anything else."

Still calls it your time of the month

It's okay, you tease him back harder

"I know Stay joking calls you a dog kisser but I think they're going to have to start calling you a dog fucker." "Why is that your first thought after we just had sex?"

Your nails are always long so he offers to paint them

Your hair grows long and fast so he has fun playing with it and trying new styles

한 지 성 (Han Ji-Sung)

So unserious

"So, it would technically be politically correct if I referred to you as my bitch?" "I guess?" "Perfect."

Would have fun referring to you as his bitch until Chan, who doesn't know you're a werewolf, smacked and lectured him for being disrespectful

"Does we just or count as beastiality?" "Jisung, what the actual fuck?" "I'm serious!" "No! I was in my human form the whole time."

You can tell he's going to have a panic attack before he even knows

You can literally hear it

A lot of the time, you'll gently pull him to the couch or the floor and put your head in his lap so he can calm down

If you two are in public, you try to find a quiet place and sit with him and try to calm him down

Emotional support pet partner

This doesn't mean you can fly for free, you already tried that

이 용 복 (Lee Felix Yong-Bok)

"Wait, like a Twilight, Teen Wolf, or Harry Potter werewolf?" "Are those the only fictional werewolves that you know?" "Yes, now answer the question."

The answer is a Twilight wolf but you change monthly and go through 3 days of pain and hell

Will sit and give you head pats and belly scratches once you're comfortable in your wolf form

"I baked these for you!" "Have one with me?" "I'm good." "..." "..." "Lix, did you bake me dog treats?" "Taste it first before you get mad!"

They were good

Fed some to the boys to see if they noticed

They did not

Loves cuddling with you, you're like a heater with feelings

Hates seeing you in pain but will at least sit with you on full moon days and the days before and after because that shit is not a one day thing

Tries to calm you down when you get the zoomies

김 승 민 (Kim Seung-Min)

Surprisingly chill with it

Suspiciously chill with it 🤨

"I kinda figured already." "How?" "You were way too happy playing frisbee. When you said you were a werewolf, it all made sense."

Gives you space the week of the full moon

He knows that you're going through enough mentally and physically, he doesn't want to add to your stress

Will go on walks with you

A lot of the time it's because you were overstimulated and he's trying to tire you out

"If you don't like it, you don't have to eat it." "How do you know I don't like it?" "Your ears went down a little." "My ears did what?"

Alternately, your ears wiggle slightly when you're happy or excited, which Min learned early on

Your ears always happy wiggle when he sings

양 정 인 (Yang Jeong-In)

A partner and a pet, all in one! He wins

Would overthink a lot about it

"I was going to buy you a necklace but I didn't know if you'd prefer a collar instead so I came home empty handed." "The necklace would have been fine, Jeongin."

Compromised and bought you a choker

"Are... are you shedding?" "I literally can't help it. I'll clean it up, don't worry." "It just threw me off. I thought only animals shed." "Please stop talking, I get it."

"So, when you get sick, do you go to the vet or a doctor?" "Are you being serious?" "Kinda of..." "I'm still a human, In."

Will lean on you like a pillow in your wolf form to keep you company

—

Buy me a coffee?

321 notes · View notes

13as07 · 1 month

Text

Spitting Image #3

(Gaara Sabaku)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Tamengkay]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 3,874

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Should I do a prequel of their night together? Hmm… probably

———————————————————————

The opal eyes my son inherited from his father are staring back at me from the door frame of my apartment. "Yoshiki isn't here right now," I mutter, clinging to the door I've cracked open.

"I know. Shikadai and Inojin were playing with him at the flower shop when I stopped. I stopped at the flower shop, on the way, for these," Gaara races out, shoving one of the fancy bouquets toward me. Ino and I tease that it's the 'I fucked up' bouquet since its starting price is twelve thousand yen.

"The thought is appreciated but flowers aren't a good present for a nine-month-old," I point out, a ting of sadness aching in my chest. Yoshiki has officially been out in the world longer than I carried him for.

It's been about two months since Gaara met his son and since we met Yoshiki's family. The Hokage keeps randomly showing up, never going longer than a week without appearing back in the village. More often than not he's only gone three or four days, and while he's away his older sister tends to show up.

The extra help is nice, for the most part. I'm still a bit on edge about letting Temari help though. I don't like someone I barely know around my kid, even if it is his Aunt.

The only person stressing me out more than Temari is Gaara himself. He seems cold most of the time, definitely not the blushing 'oh my this is happening' guy he was the night we spent together. He also seems to not know what he's doing, which I get if it wasn't for the older son he has. It leaves room for speculation.

That and I can only imagine how the sand village is reacting. It's a good half-a-day trip either way, and with him spending so much time in the Leaf I'm sure his council isn't too happy, especially since rumor has it our council isn't too happy with his constant appearance.

Pair all that with the constant shove of money in my face and it doesn't sit too well in the gut. I know he's doing it in good nature, the fancy dinners, constantly buying new things for Yoshiki and leaving money around the house when I deny it from him. I know it's all meant in good faith... I think, but it stresses me out too.

I don't need Gaara to take care of us, to take care of me. Don't get me wrong, I'm glad Yoshiki's father can offer him the nicer things in life and a part of me is glad that he wants to. But it still stresses me out. It makes me feel like he's setting himself up for a 'you owe me'. Another worry that doesn't get stomached too well.

I haven't used any of the money Gaara keeps leaving behind. I have been saving it though, squirreling it away, keeping it as a little nesting egg in case Yoshiki and I do have to make a run for it. My father might have kept me blind to the Shinobi world but he didn't keep me blind from ways to keep myself safe. Rule number one: always have a packed to-go bag and an exit plan. At the rate things are going, that might just come in handy.

"I know that," Gaara says a bit defensively, pressing the flowers to his chest before leaning them back towards me. "I got them for you," he mutters, eyes jumping around the apartment I'm in the middle of cleaning. "What is it that you are doing?"

"Cleaning," I answer, eyeing the flowers. Is Gaara acting suspicious or am I being paranoid? We shall see. "Yoshiki has grown out of his pre-me clothes and some of the other outfits he has so I'm going through them. Whatever Konah and his wife don't want is going to be taken to the women's shelter."

"Pre-me?"

"It's short for premature. Yoshiki was born just short of thirty weeks. He was really small, three point two pounds. He's doing good now. His doctors say he's still a bit underweight but it's nothing to worry too much about. Just something to monitor." During my rant I've shuffled away from the door, focusing on folding more of Yosh's clothes and placing them in the box to bring Konah.

"I was born premature," Gaara whispers, following behind me to watch as I fold.

"My mother was too, so the chances of Yoshiki being a pre-me was always there. Besides that's a thing that comes from the mother's DNA, so don't work yourself up over it."

"I was not going to," he murmurs, eyes jumping around the small space as his cheeks slowly dust themselves pink. I hum in disagreement, carefully watching as Gaara makes the short walk from the living room to the kitchen. "Where do you keep your vases?"

"I don't have any vases."

"What do you mean you 'do not have a vase'?" He asks, face scrunched up as he looks at me.

"Exactly what it sounds like. I don't own a vase. Never have cause I've never needed one."

"I am going to get you a vase."

"You really don't need to, Gaara. I don't need a vase and I don't need flowers. I appreciate the gesture but I'm good," I tell him, panic banging around my chest at the thought of him buying me something else, much less more flowers.

His head tilts and his face scrunches more before he shakes his head. "I am going to get you a vase," Gaara says more to himself than me, nodding in agreement with himself. "And new cups," he mutters, opening the cabinet, being met with the mix-match cups I've somehow gained over the years. "You shall have a vase and new cups next time I stop by."

"I really, really don't need a vase and those cups work just as well as any others. I don't need new cups or anything else from you. I'm doing fine for myself and my son."

"Our son."

"My son," I repeat, feeling like I'm going to throw up despite the hardass tone I've managed to maintain.

Gaara blinks at me a couple of times, seeming a bit dumb-founded and looking it as he stares, still holding the 'I fucked up' bouquet. "As you wish," he mutters, finally back in motion. He sets the flowers down before opening random drawers in search of something. When he finds it - a pad of paper and a pen - he goes to work scribbling on it. "Nonetheless, I shall walk around and make a list of things you two need."

I let out a laugh of disbelief, clothes completely forgotten because of the madman's words. "No, you are not. I already told you -"

"If you wish me to stay out of your room I will, but yes, I am going to figure out what it is that the mother of my child and our son needs," Gaara freezes for a second, imaginary eyebrows jumping up. "My apologies, what your son needs."

"Are you being a smart-alec right now?" I ask, another disbelieving laugh leaving my lips. "Is that what you're doing?"

"No," he says matter-of-factly. "You are not okay with me referring to Yoshiki as something we share, so I will avert from doing so."

"Dumbass," I mumble under my breath, turning my attention back to the pile of clothes I'm giving away. "I got knocked up by a dumbass."

————————————

"I'm just saying, Gaara is being a little much," I grumble, messing with my keys in search of the one that unlocks my front door.

"And I'm just saying, Gaara wants to take care of you. What's the harm in letting him?" Ino asks, her eyes are shiny with amusement.

"If you like the idea so much, ask him to take care of you," I groan, finally managing to get the key in the lock.

She laughs focusing on the grocery bags she's shifting in her arms. "Ya let me just ask Gaara to give me a baby too. I'm sure that'll go over well. Honestly, I still don't know how you managed to talk him into bed."

"You and me both," I mumble, pushing the door and leaving it open for Ino to follow. She does follow after me, silence flaking between us as we head towards the kitchen to place my groceries down.

"Welcome home!" Shinki calls out, racing into the kitchen to greet us. "Oh! Hello Auntie Ino!"

As Ino greets him, I head back out to the living room in search of Yoshiki. Panic starts to rise a bit when I don't find him - or Gaara.

The panic doesn't last long though, the two of them falling into view when I push Yosh's nursery door open. Gaara looks uneasy as he sits in the rocking chair, my - our - son fast asleep on his chest. "Hello," he calls, stiffening when our son stirs in his sleep.

"Hello," I echo, softly closing the door before I head towards them. "You know you can lay him in his crib," I tell him, carefully picking Yoshiki off his chest.

Gaara stiffens again, face scrunching up as he inches forward. "I am aware. I did not wish to."

A smile weighs on my lips as I cuddle with my son, pressing soft kisses to his head as I rock the sleeping boy. "Do you want him back when I'm done?"

He blinks at me in his slow way, his face slowly softening as he thinks. "Yes," he mutters, relaxing in the rocking chair again. "I enjoy our time here."

"I'm glad," I hum, soaking in my greeting to Yoshiki for another beat before I gently lay him back on his father's chest. "Yoshiki enjoys it when Shinki and you are here too."

"Do you enjoy when we're here?" Gaara asks, eyes locked on me, his stone-face expression on it like usual.

I think about it for a moment, trying to decide what answer to give: honestly or sugar-coated. "I enjoy spending time with Shinki, he's a sweet kid. I absolutely adore him. I'm happy the two of you are in Yoshiki's life." Both, that works.

"Are you happy we're in your life?"

"Yes," I answer before I have the chance to fully think about it. It's not a lie, I do enjoy having the Sand Shinobis around. I truly adore Shinki and like having him around. Gaara isn't terrible to have around either, it's nice having an extra set of hands, to have a man for Yoshiki to grow up looking up to, and I might have grown a bit fond of the flowers and the pale blue vase he got me.

He nods to himself, slowly rocking himself and Yosh in the chair as he spaces out. "How was your grocery shopping trip with Ino?" He finally murmurs, opal eyes set on me in their intense way. I swear Gaara can't look at anything calmly.

"It was alright. I think I'm going to make homemade ramen for dinner. I'm thinking of topping it with pork and boiled eggs."

Another spaced-out look and agreeing nod. "You should wait until Yoshiki wakes up so I can help you."

"I think I'm capable of - "

"- I know," Gaara cuts me off, eyes scrunched in a way that makes the markings of his eyes stand out. "I am aware you are capable of a lot of things. I am here to help, so I shall help. I wish you would let me help you more often."

I open my mouth to respond but get cut off again, this time by a knock at the door. "Hey, mamas," Ino's voice rings out as she opens the door, slowly poking her head into the room. "I have a meeting soon so I'm going to head out. Shinki is working on putting the groceries away. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Enjoy your meeting, I'll see you later," I call back, waving at my friend before she pulls the door closed again.

"Let me help with dinner," Gaara butts in once the door is closed, ending my attempt to respond before I can even start it. "I want my sons to see me helping around the house. It is not fair for you to work all day and then come home to do the household duties. Let me help."

I let out a long sigh, crossing my arms over my chest as my eyes jump around the nursery. "Fine, you can help with dinner," I say, giving in to Gaara's request.

I suppose there's no harm in letting him help more around the house, especially since he and his son spend most of their time in the village here. Of course they don't sleep here, it's only a small two-bedroom apartment, but if they're not sleeping or spending time with friends and family in the village, they are here. Which means they're here most of the day.

As I leave Yosh's room, thoughts of getting a bigger apartment cross my mind. Should I start looking for a three-bedroom or a four-bedroom? Probably a three-bedroom, I don't think Shinki would mind sharing a room with his younger brother... maybe. I'll just look for both. After all, at the rate we're going Gaara isn't going to let up anytime soon.

————————————

"You're doing that thing again," I grumble, shifting the strainer back and forth to shake the water out of the noodles I'm prepping for dinner.

"What thing?" Gaara asks, his eyes still intensely on me as they have been for the last ten minutes. I swear he hasn't even blinked during the time.

"That thing where you sit there and stare at me. You did it during..." My mouth snaps closed, not sure how to refer to our night together so long again. Not really, it's only been eighteen months. Though a lot has changed in that year and a half. "Our time together," I murmur, shaking the strainer harder.

"Did what?"

"Just sit there and stare. Even in my drunk stupor, it creeped me out a bit."

Gaara finally blinks a few times, slow and steady as he thinks of his response. "You are a very beautiful woman. Besides, I like to look at the mother of my children."

The plural use of the word makes the strainer tumble from my hands, crashing into the sink as I lean down to rest my weight against the edge of it.

"Are you okay?" Shinki asks, his head popping up from the wood blocks he and Yoshiki are playing with. Shinki is trying his hardest to teach his younger brother how to spell his name. I don't think he has grasped the concept of how young Yosh is yet. Still, it's been cute watching him try.

"Yes, sweetie. We're fine," I call before letting out a silent sigh, my eyes snap closed as the sink edge digs into my palms. "What the fuck, Gaara?" I hiss out quietly, refusing to let the boys see me lose my temper with their father.

"What?" He asks, blinking in his slow 'trying to comprehend' way that's starting to piss me off.

"Child, the mother of your child. Singular, one, I have had one baby. In total. Not just one of your sons, one in total."

"Yes, I know that," he says, face scrunching in lack of understanding. "But you are the closest thing to a mother Shinki has known, and I fully intend to get you pregnant again. Perhaps we will have a daughter this time."

"What the hell, Gaara?!" I yell before I can stop myself, snapping my eyes open and standing up straight.

"There is no need to yell. It is not something I plan on doing soon. There are things we need to get in order."

"Like what?" I hiss quietly, shifting closer so it's easier to keep my tone quiet. I don't need the boys noticing the fit heating up, and Shinki's glancing eyes let me know he's starting too.

"Well, I would like to get Yoshiki and you situated in the Sand Village, again not anytime soon if you don't wish it but preferably within the next couple of months. Then we will need to get the events in place for the wedding and of course the papers to update Shinki's adoption order. Then the matter of getting pregnant again. I do not mind the age gap between the boys but I think it would be best to have our next child sometime before Yoshiki is three or four."

"Get out." The words come out airy, disbelief and anger rooted in my mind.

"What?"

"Get out," I repeat, anger quickly outweighing my disbelief. "I need you to get out of my sight. I need you out of my home, I need you out of the village. I need you as far away from me as humanly possible. Get out, now."

"What is it that I've - "

"Get out!" I repeat, shouting at him now. My hands jump forward, connecting with his chest before I start shoving him out of the kitchen. "Out! Get out! Get away from me! Get away from my son! Go away!" I yell, continuing to shove him.

"I do not understand what it is that - " Gaara tries to say, his hands jumping up and gently cupping my elbows, he's not even trying to stop my shoving.

"I swear to the lord I'm going to stab you, Gaara. Go away," I shriek, tugging myself from his grip before slamming the front door open. Once the door is open, I go back to shoving him out of the house, leaving the Sand Hokage in the hallway before slamming and locking the door shut.

When I turn back around, Yoshiki is crying and screaming in fear because of my yelling. Shinki is wide-eyed and his mouth hangs open as he stares at me. "I swear," I mutter under my breath, taking quick steps towards my son. I swoop down, picking him up before I try rocking him. "It's okay, Yosh. I know, I know. Mommy is sorry for yelling. Everything is okay," I coo, shifting us back and forth as I rub his back.

"Are you kicking me out too?" Shinki's soft voice calls out, the volume being his failing attempt to hide his sadness.

"No, no. Of course not, sweetie," I continue to coo, my fake calmness aimed at him instead of Yoshiki. "I'll never kick you out of my home, okay? You're always welcome here," I continue to soothe, dropping the arm not holding Yosh down so I can run my fingers through Shinki's hair.

"This is a safe space for you, Love. I'm sorry I've made it unsafe," I continue to soothe the older boy, placing his younger brother back on the ground now that he's calmed down. I fall to my knees in front of Shinki, wrapping my arms around him and pressing his head to my shoulder. "How about we put Yosh in his high chair and you can help me make dinner, okay?"

"Okay," the older boy whispers into my shoulder, willingly laying his head down now. "I'm sorry Papa upset you."

"You don't have to be sorry for him. Just because I'm mad at Gaara doesn't mean I'm mad at you, Sweetie," I tell him, littering the side of his head with kisses. "Let's finish making dinner now, okay?"

"Okay."

————————————

Ino lets out a loud chuckle, hunching over the counter as she giggles. "I'm sorry, it's really not funny... except it is."

A groan escapes me as I lay my head on the counter, rolling over my fight with Gaara again. "I do not know what is funny," Sai says, looking quite confused as his head switches between his wife and me. "I think it is nice that Gaara wants another child."

"My dear," Ino says, wrapping herself around Sai's arm. "Gaara's bluntness is what's funny. They barely know each other, they are nowhere near close enough to get married, let alone have another child together."

"Well, why not?" He asks, head tilting as he looks at his wife. "Gaara is here about as much as he's away. They practically live together and already have one child together. The only person in the village who knows Gaara better than her is Temari... well, and possibly Naruto. It seems that the only way they are not married is by the law of the Great Nations."

Now it's my turn to giggle at Ino's unaware father of her child. "Well," she starts, mouth gaping like a fish as she struggles with her words. "The... there's not the emotional part of it. No one should marry someone they don't love, Sai."

"Are you blind, my love?"

"What?!" Ino shrieks, letting go of Sai's arm.

"Please calm down. I meant it in a joking way, not literally. I am just saying it is obvious that Gaara enjoys her company."

"What do you mean?" I ask, turning my attention away from the hissy fit Ino is throwing.

"Like I said before, Gaara spends a lot of time in the village. I am aware it is to see Yoshiki, but he seems quite interested in taking care of you as well. If he did not love you, why would he be interested in your specific needs? Personally, if I was not interested in the mother of my child, my sole focus would be on my child. I would not care about the mother is all I'm saying. My child's needs would be met and that's it."

Ino's lecture about the hypothetical situation goes into full swing, a few groans of manners and politeness thrown into the mix. As she gets after her husband, I replay Sai's words in my head. Maybe he had a point, or maybe he didn't. I don't know.

Gaara's and Shinki's constant travels have been weighing on my mind recently though. They travel to and from the village at least once a week, if not twice. It would be a lot easier on them if we all lived in the same village, and well... it would be easier for Yoshiki and me to move to the Hidden Sand than Gaara and Shinki moving here. After all, Gaara is their Hokage, and leaving that job wouldn't be easy or smart, financially.

"Maybe I will," I mutter, letting out another sigh.

"Maybe you will what?" Ino asks, stalling her discussion with Sai.

"Maybe Yoshiki and I will move to the Sand Village. It's the least I can do since Gaara is doing so much for us. Besides, it would be easier for me to get a new job at the same pay I have now than it would be for him."

Ino and Sia fall quiet for a couple of minutes, the weight of my words hovering over them as much as it's hovering over me. Ino finally pipes up, saying "Whatever you choose to do, we'll support you. Always."

I swear I'm never drinking a margarita for the rest of my life.

———————————————————————

#naruto shippuden #naruto shippuden oneshot #naruto shippuden x reader #Gaara Sabaku x reader #Gaara sabaku #Gaara sabaku oneshot #gaara x reader #Gaara oneshot

32 notes · View notes

mangoshorthand · 4 months

Note

I just saw your little post, I'm sorry I didn't clarify. Yes, I am a cis woman and I have more of a swimmer's body (I've been a swimmer for years so it's partially natural and partially conditioned) with wider hips and broad shoulders (typical swimmer long legs too). I hope this helps and sorry for such an inconvenience 😅

- birthday anon 🎂🎉

Original request, (paraphrased):

It's my birthday today and I was wondering if I could get a happy birthday from Five. I guess my prompt would be that throughout my life a lot of people forget my birthday (even my family) and often don't show up so if Five just remembered and decided to be soft and sensual and caring, that would make me the happiest person ever.

No problem Birthday Anon. Sorry this took a couple of days. Happy belated birthday! Also I made you a barista sooo...enjoy that I guess.

The Birthday Girl | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 2.8k words, Rated E

Being born at the start of the year was always a harsh reminder of the fact that you weren’t the main character of all existence, something which it took most people much longer to realize. It was worse when you were a kid, with Christmas and birthday presents amalgamated into one by relatives already stressed out from gift-buying, but it still kind of stung now. Yeah, people had lives and it was a tricky time of year, but you surely didn’t need to be the main character of all existence to have people simply show up for your birthday.

It was a nice place, you thought, glumly as you popped the olive from your martini into your mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. Not too crowded, the music loud enough to dance to without prohibiting conversation. The drinks were cheap and good quality. It would have been the perfect place for a birthday get together.

You sighed and rested your elbows on the bar. You should have got the picture by now. You were a full grown adult, you knew how it went, and yet you still foolishly invited all your friends and even some family out.

You’d never imagined that all of them would come, but you thought that at least a few would turn up. Over the past week, as you’d expected, they’d nearly all messaged their excuses and apologies and dropped out. For some, it was too close to going back to work after their christmas break, some were still away, while others were still recovering from New Year and unable to face the idea of partying again so soon.

You didn’t really blame those guys, (at least they had the decency to inform you that they weren’t coming), but you couldn’t help feeling angry at the no-shows who hadn’t even bothered to inform you, leading to you sitting alone in this bar, all dressed up for nothing.

“Hey.”

You turned your head, surprised to hear any voice addressing you.

“Five,” you said, smiling nervously in greeting.

This was not what you’d planned. He was your favorite customer, yes, he said you made the best coffee in the city, but could you call him your friend? Did two years of late-night coffee twice a week count as a friendship?

He usually came in on one of your late shifts, looking immaculately dressed but gray with exhaustion. At first, he hadn’t talked, just drinking his coffee in silence and leaving with a murmur of thanks and a generous tip, but over time he’d been more receptive to your gentle offers of conversation, and gradually he’d shown up primarily to talk, sitting at the counter as you worked, sipping endless cups of coffee and keeping you company.

What he hadn’t told you himself, you’d put together from snippets of conversation. You knew about the Umbrella Academy and the apocalypse, but it didn’t really factor into your picture of him. To you, he was just Five: the amusing mix of pessimism, wit, and an old man’s nostalgia for times past incongruous with the body in its twenties.

Over the time you’d known him, he’d grown into your life easily. He had you looking forward to your late shifts and spending the time between them making mental notes of things to tell him next time you saw him. Your conversations with him were easy and intimate (you’d told him a few things you wouldn’t tell your diary on your deathbed), but the relationship was still this weird, context-bound thing. He was the customer, you were the server.

He’d surprised you into inviting him to this little get-together a couple of days before new year. It was your first late shift after Christmas, and when he’d arrived and taken up his usual perch at the counter, one of his first remarks was:

“It’s your birthday coming up in a day or two, right?”

“Uh,” you faltered, “Um - yeah.”

He looked at you doubtfully.

“You don’t sound very sure.”

“No, it is. I’m just surprised, is all. People always forget.”

Five shrugged.

“You told me last year. You swapped shifts to go out for dinner.”

“And you remembered that?”

“Yeah.”

It touched you, the way he spoke so casually, as if he couldn’t possibly do anything but remember this about you. So you invited him to come tonight, hoping he’d say yes but not read too much into it. For months, maybe longer, you’d been wondering, and his attitude then was the thing that pushed you to find out once and for all.

You had to know for sure whether this was something: whether you and he would be the same in a different environment, or whether this thing would just crumble to nothing outside of the diner’s soft-lighting. It would be a good test, you thought, and having other people there would act as a buffer in case of any awkwardness.

In this, you had been thwarted, because now he stood beside you, looking more smart-casual than you’d ever seen him, frowning in a gray blazer over a dark tee.

“Well…happy birthday,” he said, dumping a giftbag on the bar with a clunk that signaled a bottle inside, “it’s rum. You said you liked mojitos.”

“Thanks,” you said, nodding, as he sat on the barstool beside you.

He took a quick glance around, intelligent green eyes taking stock of the bar.

“Is it just us?” he asked, raising a quizzical eyebrow in a way that made you chuckle.

“Yup,” you smiled, ruefully, “most people canceled, but there were three who just haven’t remembered to show up. I told them to meet me an hour ago, but no word.”

He frowned again, so you offered a little explanation:

“People forget when your birthday’s just after the holidays.” and then, with a smile at him, added, “Except you, of course.”

“Hm,” he said, with an air of contemplation, perhaps reflecting on why you’d told him to meet you later than everyone else. Seeming to dismiss it, however, he turned back to you:

“So you’re stuck with me?”

You looked back over at him, and a smirk developed on his face, one corner of his mouth turning up to complement his cocked eyebrow.

And in that moment, you made a decision, one that was two years in the making. Why play these games? Why experiment with him? Worst case scenario, he finds another diner.

“It’s stupid to be here with only two of us. Do you want to come back to mine? Maybe we crack open that rum and help me drown my birthday sorrows? I only live on the next street.”

***

The rum was never opened, because on the street outside your apartment, he stopped you with a hand on your arm.

He’d been silent ever since he agreed to come with you, and when you turned to face him outside your door, he fixed you with such a serious look that you took in a shallow breath.

“Sorry if I make this awkward, but I gotta know. Is this just a drink?”

You looked back at him, studying the earnest slope of his brow and his tense mouth; how the two freckles on his cheek disappeared into a small cleft in his cheek. It was a face that surrendered smiles reluctantly, but you could nearly always tease several out before the end of any shift.

You shook your head wordlessly.

His adam's apple bobbed in his throat. His eyes, so often scowling, scathing or sardonic, fixed you now with a look of pure, open adoration. His thick lashes did nothing to shade you from the intensity of that look, from the opalescent green of his pupils that pulled at you with such fascination.

When he spoke, his voice was very low.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, unable to keep your eyes on his face, choosing to study the neckline of his tee, beneath which a hint of sturdy collarbone was visible.

He reached out and gently ghosted his fingers down your cheek.

“How could anyone forget your birthday?” he murmured.

Then, he leaned forward and kissed you.

The chill January breeze momentarily played about your neck. A shiver ran through you, but not from cold: from his gentle lips against yours; from the feel of his soft hair between your fingers; from his body close to yours.

Sweet, chaste and cherishing, it might have seemed platonic, that kiss, but for the way his tongue slipped briefly into the fray, though pulling back quickly: showing you that he had more should you wish to take it.

And you did. You wanted it to the point that you chased his lips when he tried to pull away. He smiled at this and let you catch him, letting your lips part his and your tongue enter his mouth.

Finally, he succeeded in breaking the embrace, though leaving his hands softly on your hips.

“Take me upstairs?” he asked, huskily.

***

His mouth beside your ear, he held you on his lap like a beautiful fragile thing. He ran his fingers reverently up and down your thighs, like a servant privileged to touch precious silverware with kid gloves.

He kissed you again, soft and syrupy, as if he was eating fruit perfectly sweetened on the vine, trailing his lips down your shoulder, humming with satisfaction.

“God,” he whispered, “I could kiss you all day.”

The tender hunger in his tone sent a tingle straight to your core.

It was a shame to have your back to him. When he’d thrown off his shirt as if it was nothing, your eyes drank him in: the softly defined muscles that were outlined by his movements and the trail of sparse, dark hair disappearing below his waistband. All this time, under those sharply cut suits, there was this.

But you couldn’t focus on the regret too much, not with his strong forearms wrapped around your naked body, his smell of antiperspirant and aftershave, and not with the heat of his hard arousal against your ass and lower back.

His fingers clearly stated their intent against your inner thigh, pausing an inch away from where you needed him most.

“May I?” he asked, breath tickling your ear.

You could hear a little hint of mischief in his voice; the ironic move of his eyebrows.

“Yes please,” you breathed.

“Anything for the birthday girl,” he whispered, nuzzling briefly at your neck.

And he stroked your outer lips with gentle fingers, his index trailing back up your slit, the tip skimming slickness that had already gathered there.

He made an appreciative sound at his discovery, and you moaned at the throb of pleasure from just this teasing movement, bucking against him and momentarily pressing his cock against you more firmly.

“You’re so pretty,” he rasped into your ear, fingers parting your outer lips to reach your excited nub and stroking it in smooth, luxuriant circles, “look at you. So perfect.”

You whimpered and tossed your head helplessly against his shoulder. Heat was already building in your sex, your toes curling against your sheets. The foundations for your orgasm were laid from his very first touch of your aching pussy, your body crying out for him from the moment he kissed you. Now, you were helpless to his fingers: as confident and efficient in rubbing your needy clit as in all his other movements.

“You deserve to be treated special.” he whispered, “This good?”

“Five.”

“Yes?”

“Five.”

You could hardly say more, brain scrambling like beaten eggs until no vocabulary remained but the name of the man whose fingers were making come slowly drool down your thighs.

“Want me to stop?” he whispered, tenderly.

You shook your head fiercely.

“Fi-ive!” you whined again, becoming completely inarticulate now as his ankles hooked around yours, holding your legs open gently. He could sense you beginning to ride your edge, could surely sense the heat burning and coiling and tightening in your stomach until -

You cried out when you came, feeling more come gush from you, soaking his fingers and your thighs alike. He spoke softly to you as the waves of pleasure broke on you one by one, each bringing a fierce buck of your hips backwards against his hard, hot cock, sandwiched between you.

“That’s it.” he encouraged, “There you go. Feel good, sweetie?”

You could do nothing but whimper and let yourself be carried by the rapture, surges exploding down each limb again and again.

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

Your orgasm subsided, leaving you panting against him.

Through your recovery, he whispered more tender affirmations and praise into your ear, kissing and nosing at the side of your neck as he tried to distract himself from the tingles going up and down his length and the precome still leaking from his tip as your movements against him teased his excited cock.

After you’d caught your breath, you became aware of the needy way he was kissing you; of the barely-there grinding of his pelvis; of his dick rubbing against you.

“Can I -?” came the desperate, half-articulated whisper.

“Yes please,” you replied.

He laid you down as if you were fragile, like an injured dove held in cupped hands. His gentle movements offered a stark contrast to the state of his gorgeous, curved cock. The tip was an angry pink, his balls high and tight with arousal. Intrigued, you began to caress that heated, swollen part of him. He hissed as you weighed and massaged his balls in one hand, the other closing around his shaft, already slick with precome.

“Don’t judge my stamina based on this, okay?” he said, voice cracking as his neck arched along with your strokes, “How about you stop that and we can try for quality over quantity?”

It was spoken with self-consciousness that seemed unnecessary to you, given that he’d just rubbed your clit to a thigh-trembling orgasm quicker and more effectively than anyone you’d ever been with. You let his cock go and kissed him on the mouth as he lowered himself towards you.

When he entered you, his mouth was still on yours, and you felt his sigh or relief against your lips.

He filled you perfectly, your plush walls immediately gripping him, surrendering him reluctantly as he withdrew. You could see the tight pinch between his eyebrows. His eyes were already screwed shut.

“Oh.”

The whisper was small and strung out, and you kissed his cheek and lips to encourage him as he let out a few, trembling breaths.

“That feel good?”

“Yeah,” you gasped, “it feels good, Five.

His strokes were slow, but skillful, his hips rutting with gentle fluidity.

“I want to make you feel good,” he whispered, stroking your cheek, “I want to show you how special you are.”

From the movement of his body alone, you would have imagined him in complete control, not even close to his edge, but his increasingly fevered whispers and messy kisses to your lips and neck told a different story.

“Your pussy is so good. It’s so fucking wet.”

You kissed him back, nodding and moaning in affirmative as that perfect curve rubbed you just right inside, the low tempo building an ache as sweet and gentle as his thrusts. You gasped, pulsing around him, and his hips stuttered for the first time.

“F-fuck.” he breathed, “So hot. So perfect.”

He tensed.

“I’m close.”

You smiled against his ear. You were on birth control and you knew enough about Five to know that he didn’t raw-dog every barista who made him a good cup of coffee. It wasn’t logical or sensible but it was the only thing that seemed right after two years of illogical, foolish denial.

“Come inside me.”

“You sure?”

You barely had time to confirm it to him before he let out an inarticulate cry. His dick pumped hard inside you, coating your walls with his load with his head buried in your neck, still keeping you gasping throughout with controlled, gentle, sensuous pumps of his pelvis.

***

“You want coffee?”

You lay, bare-breasted on his chest as Five combed his fingers through your hair, feeling warm, content, and glowing from his tenderness.

“Let me get it for a change.” he said.

“Wow, it really is my birthday,” you teased.

You heard a short exhale of laughter as he extracted himself gently from the bedsheets.

“Sure is.”

And, with as little care for his nakedness as if this was his own apartment, he headed across the bedroom, turning back at the door with a wry smile.

“And it’s not over yet.”

Tag list: (please comment to be added or removed): @thebearmage, @nevbrooke-555, @fiannee, @abeeabee6969

Oneshot Masterlist >> HERE

NOTE: I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See oneshot masterlist for request status and more.

#the umbrella academy #the umbrella academy imagine #umbrella academy x reader #the umbrella academy smut #the umbrella academy five #umbrella academy number five #umbrella academy five x reader #umbrella academy five x you #five hargreaves x you #five hargreaves x reader #number five imagine #five hargreeves imagine #number 5 imagine #number 5 x reader #number five x you #smut

47 notes · View notes

mycraftingjourney · 6 months

Text

Introduction post

I wanted to give a bit of an introduction to why I'm here, what I'm doing and so on.

tl;dr: I like clothes and I'm into sustainability, so I started (visible) mending a few month or so ago. I also crochet, although not as much as I'd like to, and I dabble a bit in embroidery. My goal is to kind of document my journey with these crafts and maybe inspire people to give some of these a try.

I'd also love to talk about all things (visible) mending, crochet, embroidery and fiber arts in general and share the knowledge I have / point people who want to start to some resources that helped me.

I've been into fashion/clothes and styling them on and off for a big part of my life. A few years ago, I also got into sustainability, learning about how buying new fast fashion damages our planet and exploits other human beings, and what may be good alternatives.

This path, inevatibly, lead down to getting curious about mending. I learned basic sewing skills when I was a child, but I never altered any clothes and apart from a few tiny things never mended anything.

However, this year, I wanted to change that. I've heard about visible mending before and I really liked it. I had a pair of jeans when I was a teenager that was patched (by someone else) that was my favourite pair. Unfortunately, I managed to ruin it beyond repair and also grew out of it, but this stuck with me. I always liked to express myself creatively, and in recent years, what I wear has become a big part of that. The idea that by visibly mending my clothes I express my passion for sustainability feels really good (and punk!) to me. The idea of altering clothes that I don't currently love but could love if something about them was changed is also a nice one.

I only darned my first sock a few months ago. My goal with this blog is to share this first darn as well as the progress I make, because I want to encourage other people. You don't have to make perfect mends to be sustainable. On the contrary, mend imperfectly, mend messy, but DO MEND. Even if you'll have to redo it at one point, when you have more skill, even if you don't end up redoing it and instead use that piece of clothing for something else, you still gave it another wear, or two, or three (or fifty) - and that's what this is all about.

I tend to be an extreme perfectionist and it's hard for me to deal with a situation where I'm not perfect at a first try. Surprise surprise, I am not when it comes to mending, or embroidery, or crochet, or anything at all really. But I'm trying to let that go and concentrate on what I achieve rather than what I did "wrong" or imperfectly. I want to share my messy bits and the things I'm proud of, and I want to update how the mends I did held up. As i mentioned above, I hope that maybe I'll inspire some people to pick up a needle as well. Even if you "only" fix that button or a ripped up seam. Every mend counts!

When I get into altering or even making clothes, I will share those projects too, but that will have to wait a bit since I don't currently have any space to put up my sewing machine and I do simply not have the energy nor patience to hand sew bigger things.

Apart from mending I also crochet. Talking more about that feels like a bit of an overkill here, I'll make a new post for that.

Recently I also started to embroider, with the idea of using embroidery in my (visible) mending and to embellish clothes. Here again I decided on a project where I just start and don't try to be perfect from the beginning on, I'll share more about that as well as my crochet project(s) soon.

I think this should be enough for the moment with the introduction. One thing about me, as you probably got by now, is that I'm really bad at being brief with my writing. I have no idea how often I will manage to make posts on here due to work and life, but I will try to do them quiet regularly, as well as sharing things I see that might be helpful / interesting / that inspire me. I also think I'll probably only write more for bigger projects but also just share stuff I'm working on / finished recently.

Maybe I'll also share other DIYs that are not really crafts/fiber arts related but I think are cool.

This isn't my main blog (thats @merryfromthestars), so if I follow I follow from there.

I'm also always open to questions, discussions etc. so just send me an ask or dm if you want! Just, I might take a moment to answer them, because life and work :) I'm excited to see where this journey takes me, and I hope some people will come along and maybe get inspired.

#sewing #diy #crochet #fiber art #fiber arts #long post #embroidery #sustainability #sustainable fashion #crochetblr #mending #visible mending #personal #solarpunk

50 notes · View notes

og-danny-dorito · 2 years

Text

[ DANNY'S TUTORIALS: BOTTLECAP PIN ]

Hi there!! I'm gonna teach you how to make a bottlecap pin since I've gotten a lot of questions about where I got mine from baby punks and others who just find them cool! I've found that a lot of people buy their pins online from companies that overprice and over-process their designs, and often times steal them from smaller businesses. Punk has been gentrified over the years, so this tutorial acts as a way to reconnect to the roots of DIY fashion made by people with limited resources and time. This is a great way to show your interests, pride in your community, and pretty much anything else you want even if you don't have a penchant for traditional art. Don't worry about it looking good, just try to have fun! At the end of the day, the shittier the job, the more punk it is.

[ Step Count : 6 ]

Here's what you're gonna need! (optional materials have a star next to them instead of a regular point):

-> hot glue gun (in replacement of pliers)

-> safety pin

-> bottlecap (unbent, preferably a twist off)

-> can tab

✮ pencil/pen

✮ sandpaper

✮ paint & paintbrush/posca pens

✮ regular Elmer's glue

STEP 1:

Gather your all of your materials and place them on your workspace. I'm going to paint mine, so I got the sandpaper, paintbrush, and paints as extra materials.

STEP 2:

If you're not going to paint yours, go ahead and skip to step 3. Otherwise, get your sandpaper and your bottlecap, then sand down the surface (A). Paint your base, draw a design with the pencil/pen, and fill it in with your paints/posca pens (B)! After I'm done painting I'll usually seal it in regular Elmer's glue to make sure it doesn't get messed up anytime soon (C). I chose a little green skull since the person I'm gifting this too likes and spooky stuff and green is their favorite color :]

[ Also sorry for the change of scenery, I had to finish at the library cause I was studying. Visiting, donating, and helping your local library is Punk As Fuck. ]

STEP 3:

What you're going to do now is set your bottlecap aside, and take out your can tab. I have joint problems and I can't use pliers, so I bend it over the edge of a table by holding it half over the edge and pushing down to bend the metal. But try not to bend it too much so your safety pin stays in place!

STEP 4:

Okay, here comes the tricky part. Like I said, I have joint issues, so I can't use pliers because they hurt my hands. Instead I'm going to set aside my now bent can tab and bring back my bottle cap, then flip it over. Place 2 hefty drops of hot glue on the bottom and top of the pin, then get your safety pin and open it so you can place it on the back horizontally.

STEP 5:

Now, place your bent can tab on the back of the pin and over the open safety pin, pressing it into the hot glue drops and letting it dry for a little bit (A). If you like, you can also put two more drops of hot glue on the tops of the bent can tab for extra security (B). I also put some hot glue in the middle of the tab's opening for extra security on the safety pin. Please pardon the absolute dogshit photo quality it wasn't cooperating for some reason LMAO

STEP 6 [FINAL]:

Wait for it to dry, then you're all done!! Your very own bottlecap pin. You can attach this to bags, jackets, shirts, pants, and pretty much any material that a safety pin can glide through.

Here's the finished product, as presented by my friend D at the library (everybody say thank you D for modeling)!!

[ -> Next (coming soon:]) ]

#punk #diy punk #bottle cap pin #diy tutorial #punk rock #bottlecap #bottle caps #punk tutorial #diy #diy jewelry #diy accessories #danny's tutorials

473 notes · View notes

futuredilfharrington · 2 years

Text

Girl-Dad! Steve Harrington Part 2

YOU GUYS :') If you don't follow me and didn't see my other post I want to thank everyone who interacted with part one of this!!! Special shoutout to those of you who reblogged, you have my heart <3. The previous part of this literally got more than double the notes of any other post I've ever made in LESS than one day!

IDK how many parts this will have, I'm just going where the wind takes me lol.

Part One

~As soon as you're recovered from giving birth (both mentally and physically) you get pregnant again... We're talking Irish twins babey.

~Steve is so excited and you always hear him on the baby monitor and from the other room talking to Rose about her new sibling

~He'll be doing tummy-time with her and just babble on and on about you and how she's going to be a big sister soon

~This time around Steve has "no preference," although from the way he's not buying many new things you can kind of tell he's hoping to use all of Rose's hand-me-downs for the next baby

"Pink could be both genders, y/n" "I know, Stevie, it's just a little suspicious, don't you think?"

~You don't do a gender reveal this time around. It's your second baby and it feels weird to force everyone into doing the whole nine yards less than a year after the last time.

~Instead you and Steve go to the bakery in downtown Hawkins and give them the sealed envelope the doctor wrote the gender in and ask if they'll bake a reveal cake just for the two (three if you count Rose, but she's not quite eating cake yet)

~A few days later the three of you eat dinner, Rose happily babbling away, and bring out the little white cake for dessert

~Steve slides his chair over to your side of the table and you hold the knife together as you cut out a little slice of the pink sponge.

~Immediately Steve whoops and grabs Rose from her spot kissing her forehead and telling her she's going to have a baby sister before turning to you and pressing a kiss onto the top of your head

~If Steve's "Man Friends" weren't grumbling to him before, they sure are now.

~Some of his relatives will call to congratulate you after sending out your pregnancy announcement and when you pass the phone over to Steve and leave while they finish talking he always comes to find you and Rose with a sour look on his face that only softens when he has you both in his arms

~One night when you're laying in bed he finally tells you that they keep telling him his "swimmers" must not be very strong, that he needs to have a boy to carry on the Harrington name, that he's going to be in hot water being outnumbered by all the estrogen in the house

~The second one is the thing that bothers him the most...

"Maybe I don't want to carry on the Harrington name... I'm fine if our branch ends with me"

~You kiss him and tell him that the only people who have any say over how your family runs are you and him and you fall asleep tangled together

~This time around Steve refuses to leave you alone anywhere NEAR your due date.

~You wake up one morning to gentle contractions and don't tell him so he doesn't sweep you to the hospital hours too early only to get sent back home.

~(You do call Dustin, your driver now since Robin moved Chicago, and let him know to be on deck)

~Steve is eying you suspiciously all day, it's Sunday, cleaning day, and what better way to distract yourself than making sure the house will be clean when you bring the new baby home.

~When you keep excusing yourself every so often to have a contraction in the other room Steve finally figures it out and sounds the alarm

~Dustin drives Will, El, and Joyce to your house to watch after Rose, and Max and Lucas are set to relieve them from babysitting duty depending on how long you're gone

~Steve is beside himself with Dustin driving. He insists that you make a mad dash to the hospital but you tell Dustin that he can take his time and that the baby isn't coming out anytime soon.

"Shithead, she needs to get to the hospital NOW!"

"Given that y/n is the one actively giving birth right now, I think I'm going to listen to her and not you, Steve"

~This baby does NOT want to come out.

~It's a rough labour, you spend most of the time either breaking Steve's hand or cursing him, vowing that you'll never let him touch you again

"I hope you're happy with two, Harrington. You'll be lucky if I even let you in the same room as me again"

"I won't even look at you, baby, I swear"

~There's lots of shouting from you, and even more apologies from Steve

"You can do it y/n. You're so strong and beautifu-"

"Really, Steve? I'm really beautiful right now? Fuck off!"

"You've given me two daughters, you're a wonderful wife and moth-"

"Not now, Steven"

"Sorry, baby"

~ At the end of it all, you and Steve get to welcome your youngest into the world: Victoria Alice Harrington

Bonus content:

~You and Steve are sitting on your hospital bed together watching as Torie grabs at his fingers in her sleep...

"Doesn't this just make you want another one?"

"Get out of my bed right now, Harrington"

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #dad!steve harrington #girldad!steve harrington #Steve harrington headcanons #st headcanon #domestic!steve harrington #tw: pregnancy #pregnancy #pregnant!reader #steve harrington x pregnant!reader

465 notes · View notes

cloudghoul32 · 1 year

Text

𝐀 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞- 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐈

Cardinal Copia x Female!Reader

Summary: The new cardinal arrived. You want to get to know him more, and Terzo notices this. Maybe he can help you.

Word count: Around 900 words

______________________________________________________________

"He's here!"

Sister Imperator smiled, nodding at the door. Nihil turned and you froze in your tracks. You were supposed to deliver some papers to Terzo, which required you to pass through where Papa Nihil and Sister were talking. You looked at the door expectantly, hoping they wouldn't see you.

The door opened and there stood the cardinal, dressed in a black cassock and biretta, carrying a boombox on his shoulder. Your heart pace quickened; who was this man? And why was he so incredibly handsome?

He set his boombox down and looked up at Nihil. "Hello, Papa," he said. "You're looking well."

You watched as he said hello to Sister and as Nihil turned to her and asked to talk with her privately. They both headed away from the cardinal and whispered to each other about Satan knows what. Meanwhile the cardinal stood there, waiting expectantly for them to come back. You took your chance and walked over to him. "Hello," you said. His mismatched eyes shone at the sight of you. "Ah! Hello! You must be a sibling or something, si?" He stuck his hand out for you to shake. "Yes, I'm a sibling. I'm Y/N, by the way," you said.

"Y/N. Lovely name." He gazed into your eyes for a moment, silence filling your ears. He snapped out of it. "Ah wait. I almost forgot, I am Copia. Eh... Cardinal Copia. Sorry." he chuckled. Just then, Sister and Nihil came back. "Oh, Cardinal. Have you found a new friend?" she smiled. Nihil still had his almost angry-looking expression but didn't say anything. Copia glanced at you again, eyes falling on yours. But he quickly broke away and looked at the ground. "Ehm, yes. I guess so. This is Y/N," he said. "Yes, I am aware, we've met," Sister Imperator said. Copia's face grew red. "Oh. Si, I-I forgot."

"Well, I've got to get going," you said, now with the attention of Nihil, Sister, and Copia. You felt a little silly for intruding their private conversation and Copia's entrance, but you shook it off as you remembered you had to bring those papers to Papa III. "Will I see you later?" Copia called as you were leaving, and his words melted your heart. When was the last time someone was worried about seeing you again?

"Of course," you called back. You left with a small, satisfactory smile. You could feel everyone's stares behind you, but you tried to ignore it by thinking about other things. Hmm, what should you make for dinner? Maybe you should make something simple, you'd be coming home late, you needed to buy some food. I'll go to the store tomorrow, you thought.

You turned the corner to Terzo's office. You were friends with him, and people often mistook it for a crush. Yes, he was nice, but you weren't too sure. You more or less just thought of him as a friend, someone you could trust when things got difficult. He'd been your best friend since you joined the ministry. You weren't sure what he thought of you, though. He was always kissing siblings on the cheek, and it was no surprise he kissed you too, all the time. You didn't think much of it, you just ignored it and let him do what he wanted.

"Hey, Terzo," you said as you entered his room. Terzo looked up from his desk and looked at the stack of papers you were carrying. He sighed. "More papers. Of course," he mumbled. He shook his head. "Sorry. Eh, Y/N! I haven't seen you today. Where have you been?" he grinned. Terzo pulled you into a hug. "Oh, I was just... meeting the new cardinal. Did you know he came today? I talked to him a little," you giggled. "He's really nice." You didn't make eye contact as you said this, feeling slightly embarrassed. "Ah, is that so?" Terzo chuckled. "It seems that little Sorella here is in love."

"Well, I mean, I don't really know him yet," you tried defending yourself. "He seems nice. I mean, he's awkward and... I don't know." You set the stack of papers on his desk. "Anyway. I brought your papers." You smiled at him before turning away and walking back to your room. "

"Wait, Y/N!"

Terzo came from behind you, placing a hand on your shoulder. "You think he's nice?" he asked. Your face turned a little redder. "Um... yes." He smiled again. "You want to be his friend?" He was making you slightly nervous, but you nodded. Terzo took his hand off of your shoulder and stood in front of you. "I can help you. I have lots of experience, you know." You looked at him. He was right, he was very experienced. And you trusted him. He'd always helped you. Slowly you nodded.

"Alright. So, first of all, you want him to be comfortable with you. Become his friend. Grow closer with him. It might take some time, but it will be worth it." Terzo took your hands in his. "You will do fine. I promise."

You thanked him and left the room.

Okay, befriend the cardinal. I can do that.

You hadn't known him for more than 5 minutes, but you decided that you liked him. And you were going to try to make him like you back.

______________________________________________________________

-To be continued-

#cardinal copia x reader #my writing #cardinal copia fanfic #the band ghost #cardinal copia x female reader

70 notes · View notes

vestrix · 1 month

Text

I'm getting increasingly annoyed at content claiming to be about hoarding and dealing with hoarding when it's not at all. At best it's disorganised clutter, at worst it's someone chasing minimalism.

An ACTUAL tip for fellow hoarders from a hoarder trying to do a downsize for a future move without overly triggering the "re-acquire at greater levels" response: You've got to start so early.

I'll move probably in September. I started in February.

My daily goal: Get rid of (charity, barter, bin) 3 objects a day. 2 easy, one harder. If I bin the harder, it counts for all 3 objects. I can go over the amount if I'm on a roll, but if afterward I'm looking at online shopping or thinking about acquiring more items, I pause for a few days.

I try to battle that anxiety by going through stuff in my collection for Fun, like rediscovering my objects I love, triggering those good feelings I get from my stuff, in an attempt to curb the urge to Get More by provoking that hit with stuff I already have. It's partially successful, honestly, and if I do end up buying stuff, I try to make sure I buy consumables. Food, a bathbomb, a scented candle, something I will use up. Or, I try to make sure what I buy is physically 'less' than what I got rid of, smaller / lighter / takes up less space.

Again, it's a battle against a brain which is having a panic response. There's only so much I can do.

But it DOES get easier to get rid of things when you go slowly, it's a muscle and an anxiety response and both need to be practiced, flexed, and rested. I've made a lot of physical progress and I hope mental / emotional progress, but I will always be fighting this fight, and I will always be a messy, cluttered, maximalist. It's just trying to keep it actually manageable (not what I think is manageable when I'm in denial) and where I'm happy, not overwhelmed and in distress.

Also to add, for me easy objects are never actually easy, but they're things I can rationally say are trash, or I don't like them, or I'm never going to use them, even if my Feelings are saying different.

These objects might be half a bottle of conditioner I didn't like, or a half used bottle of ketchup past its sell by date (which still looks fine), or a pen which only sometimes works now, or a tupperware which had gotten really mouldy and now I'm too nervous to use.

That's what I mean when I say "easy" objects. I am still anxious getting rid of those items, but they're less likely to haunt me.

Harder objects are things like a pair of shoes which are broken and don't fit me. A half knitted doll jumper which is the wrong size and I won't ever frog. A broken computer mouse. I don't make the rules about what is easy or hard in my brain, it often makes little rational sense, but it's usually based on (perceived) value, sentiment, or just liking the object even if it's in an unusable state.

That's the sort of stuff hoarders battle with.

Also, I'm begging you, if you're a content creator PLEASE stop calling things hoarding when they're not. Hoarding has clearly defined markers that need to be met, please be aware of these.

#hoarding #hoarding disorder

8 notes · View notes

unpredictable-probabilities · 2 months

Text

Azul Ashengrotto of Royal Sword Academy || Chapter 22: Halloween Tour Date

Summary:

Jamil decides to spend their first day together touring Azul around NRC's Campus in the midst of Halloween Week.

Many offer their support, though a certain student has different intentions in mind...

Word Count: 3,894

At the head of the dining table is Jade, writing in his notebook. To his left, Floyd and Rielle seem to be in the middle of a pleasant conversation. Beside Rielle is Ruggie, drawing things on Ace's face while the freshman is sleeping on his arms on the table, seated across from Ruggie. The two vacant chairs are between Jade and Ace.

Ruggie sniffs the air when they arrive and turns to look at them. "Aw yeah food's here!"

"I trust you didn't wait too long?" Azul asks as he and Jamil set down the plates on the table.

"Nah we just got here," Floyd says through a wide yawn.

"Thank you for cooking breakfast," Rielle smiles at them. "You didn't have to wake up so early for us.”

"It wasn't any trouble at all," Jamil replies, sitting next to Ace and taking a sip from his coffee cup. "Besides, we already spent the whole day yesterday sleeping." He nods at the freshman beside him. "Looks like someone hasn't recovered from our late-night excursion." He gives Ace a poke. "Hey. It's rude to sleep at the dining table."

Ace violently jerks up. "Gah! Don't behead m— Bwah?"

"Mornin', Crabbyyyyyy," Floyd croons, snickering.

Ace blinks and then gazes at the meal before them. "Oh, food!"

"You got that right!" Ruggie rubs his hands together. "C'mon, let's dig in!"

"Do you cook a lot, Jamil?" Rielle asks as they all begin eating.

"I've been cooking since I was a kid and I often cook for my dorm members,” Jamil replies.

“Ah, I see. I saw the cookies you made for Azul back at the ball, I was surprised to see him eating them since he usually avoids snacking. They must have been good for him to finish them."

"Must have been?" Azul looks at Rielle pointedly. "You ate three of those cookies yourself."

"And I don't regret it!" Rielle says with a grin.

"Ehhhh? Sea Snake, you made treats and you didn't give us any?" Floyd complains, looking at Azul. "Octyyyyy, make him make us treats, tooooo!"

Azul chuckles. "I don't think any of us can make Jamil do anything, Floyd."

Ace snorts beside Jamil. "Yeah, right. This guy doesn't know his power," he mutters to Ruggie.

Floyd gasps at Jamil in realization. "Hey! You said gifts weren't needed at the ball! But you brought Octy a gift!"

"I liked your gift too, Floyd," Rielle reassures him, holding up his wrist and pulling his sleeve back to show a bracelet where he had affixed a button as a charm. "See?" he smiles.

Floyd's mouth gapes open as he stares at the bracelet, then at Rielle's face. "I'd make out with you right here but Jade has been gettin' on me about my table manners lately."

Rielle's face goes red and he laughs nervously, averting his eyes. "Th-That's—" he clears his throat. "Anyway, maybe I can bring treats next time I come here."

"A... button?" Ruggie asks in confusion.

"Aww, lookit Floyd being such a charmer!" Ace teases.

"It's a good thing you imposed that restriction, Jade," Jamil mutters. "I don't think my appetite can handle watching Floyd tear into Rielle this early in the morning."

Jade chuckles in amusement. “It really has been a delight having you all around; do feel free to visit Octavinelle whenever it pleases you. It’s a shame we must go our separate ways today.”

"Shoot, you're right!" Ace hisses, sitting straight up. "I can’t be late for Heartslabyul's assembly! It's my costume shift today!"

"And I gotta buy some snacks for the cubs at Sam's shop later." Ruggie hums. "Leona's idea. Don't tell anyone, though. He wants to keep coming off as aloof as ever. What about you lil' lovebirds?"

"No, no, haven't you learned, Ruggie?" Jade playfully chastises him. "Only Floyd and Rielle are the lovebirds here."

Ruggie snorts. "Right, and Leona and I are just friends. I been hangin' out with these two since Azul's first visit here," he points at both of them in turn with his spoon. "And like I told Jamil back then, my nose never lies," he taps on the side of his nose with his finger.

He smirks meaningfully, and Jamil suddenly remembers how Ruggie had said in detention that Jamil had Azul's scent all over him.

And that was just after one hug that only lasted for a handful of seconds.

Jamil tries his best to focus on his food and keep a straight face despite feeling heat rush to his cheeks.

Jade then politely clears his throat. "Azul, Rielle, what will you be doing today? Does the committee have any duties of their own to attend to?"

"Ah, I'm currently suspended from the committee as I'm still recovering," Azul says.

"I have to coordinate with your Halloween committee later to finalize the catering," Rielle answers. "All in all, Azul and I don't have to go back to RSA until later this afternoon."

"Awww, can't you sleep here again?" Floyd pouts at Rielle.

"I'll keep visiting whenever I can," Rielle smiles at him, putting a hand on top of his.

Floyd brightens up. "And I can visit RSA! If Sea Snake can fly all the way over there to smooch his crush, I can too!"

"I wasn't smooching him," Jamil huffs. Not back then, at least. “Finish your breakfast.”

"Yeah, let's get this show on the road and make everyone see just how awesome this year's Halloween Week's gonna be!" Ace proudly declares, new energy pumping through his veins from both the coffee, the meal, and the looming threat of getting clocked by his own Prefect.

After freshening up with showers, the group soon split up by the Hall of Mirrors, with Jade and Rielle heading for the assembly hall where the Halloween Committee would be holding a meeting.

Ruggie saluted them then dipped into Savanaclaw's mirror, Ace practically ran for Heartslabyul's, and Floyd… well, he had almost followed Rielle, but when he was told that only committee members would be allowed in, he groaned and slinked off to who knows where.

Jamil then wordlessly offers his hand for Azul to hold.

Azul looks surprised for a moment, but he smiles softly and takes Jamil's hand, lacing their fingers together. "Where shall we go first?"

"Since you're not in any committee, we'll be treating you like a guest here, Mister Ashengrotto," Jamil replies playfully. "We're getting you a stamp ticket first, and the closest booth that'd give those would be at the clock tower near Sam's shop. Visit all the special locations and get them stamped and you'll get yourself a lil' prize." He leads Azul out of the building, where paved roads, foliage, and lampposts are adorned with pumpkins, streamers, and festive lights blending in with the trees' autumn colors.

"Oh? And what prize would that be?" Azul asks in interest. "Or is that an NRC secret?"

Other students are starting to notice their linked hands, and several of them turn their heads and look at Jamil curiously.

"It's not a secret, it's just candy," Jamil replies. He notices the stares. He tells himself that it's all right and simply sticks even closer to Azul. "Why? Hoping for another kind of treat?"

Azul raises an eyebrow playfully, "I am." Then his voice lowers to almost a purr and he leans his face closer to Jamil's. "I'm hoping for something much sweeter than candy." Then he chuckles and stands up properly again like nothing happened. "What do we have to do at the clock tower to get a stamp?"

Jamil widens his eyes at Azul's bold flirt right in the middle of the street and takes a few seconds to blink and recover before responding, "What… do we have to do..? Oh er… nothing, really. Just find the guy assigned for giving out those stamp sheets and move on. The school hasn't opened to the public yet so we'll have a few moments of peace before the visitors crowd in."

And so they arrive at the clock tower. To the right, Sam's shop is seen, decked out in tapestries, carpets, haybales and pumpkins to resemble an abandoned marketplace. Many of the Scarabia students are tidying up the area, dressed in a scarlet-and-white ensemble as they don fake wolf ears and tails.

A few of them notice the duo approaching and proceed to greet them with waves and hearty "good mornings".

"Prefect! Thank goodness you're here!" One of them calls out. "We need more hands in the make-up department and Mister Sam needs help with restocking!"

"Idiot," hisses someone else. "Can't you see he's on a date with Mister Azul right now?"

"Oh, are you needed here?" Azul turns to Jamil. "It's alright, we can continue the tour later." He turns to the other residents. "Is there anything I can do to help?"

"OH! No, i-it's okay! Never mind! We got this handled—" stammers the student asking for help.

"It's all right," Jamil calmly reassures them, decidedly not refuting the fact that they're on a date. "I also came here to assist and make up for my absence yesterday." He turns to Azul and gives his hand a gentle squeeze. "Don't worry, this'll be quick. Maybe you can see if you can help Sam. He should be inside his shop."

Azul smiles at him and squeezes his hand back. "Alright, I shall see you in a bit." He gives a friendly nod to the other residents and goes inside the shop.

"Prefect, are you really dating Mister Azul now?" a bright-eyed first year asks him excitedly.

"Sshh, don't pester Prefect!" says a sophomore passing by carrying fake wolf ears and a makeup kit.

"Is he gonna borrow our dorm uniform again?" another first year asks.

The sophomore scoffs. "You just wanna ogle Mister Azul's biceps."

"I do not!" he blushes fiercely.

"Is Mister Azul your boyfriend now?" the first year repeats his question louder to talk over the others, turning the heads of their other dormmates.

Jamil stares awkwardly at the numerous Scarabia kids looking at him.

"I… well... Does that matter right now?"

"He's not denying it," sing-songs someone from the group.

"Aw, come on, boss! There's no need to be shy! We're only asking 'cause we're rooting for you two!"

"Yeah! We could prolly help too, if you let us in on the deets!"

Jamil sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That's unnecessary. If you really wanna help, just don't pester Azul about any of this, okay?" He glances around to make sure no one else is listening in before he mumbles. "Just so you can stop asking, yes… I guess you can say we're dating now."

There are a few gasps, then scattered claps and cheers among his residents.

"I KNEW IT!" a sophomore pumps his fist in the air. "When he offered to tutor us with the study sheets, the payment he asked for was for us to stop setting up dangerous traps for you, boss."

"Yeah, he thought we wanted to kill you or something to take your place!" says his resident with a fondness for quicksand traps.

"Glad we sorted it out, though," says the one who usually paid attention to the study sheets. "He looked worried about you, Prefect."

"I'm so excited to learn from both of you, boss!"

"He's really cute," the first year says dreamily.

"Sshh!" another sophomore scolds him.

"What? I didn't say I wanna date him, I'm just saying Prefect has good taste!" the first year says defensively.

"SHUSH! SHHHH!" Jamil hisses at all of them, though he can't deny that there was something that felt nice to have his romantic interests be met with such enthusiasm. "Quit it! If you really wanna be supportive, then don't be embarrassing! Come on, gimme those make-up kits."

"You heard 'im, fellas! The sooner we get this finished, the sooner they can get back to their date!"

"YEAH!" Everyone exclaims.

Jamil sighs again and momentarily closes his eyes as he feels his face warm.

His residents maintain a giddy energy throughout their work, but to their credit they still did their jobs efficiently.

After making sure that everyone already has makeup on, Jamil wonders if he should check on Azul. He hasn't seen him ever since he went inside to help restock shelves, and Jamil realizes that he doesn't know whether Azul has taken a break yet, or exactly how many boxes he's had to lift already.

"All right, are you guys good to go?" Jamil asks the students.

There’s a scattered reply of “Yeah!”.

"Okay, good. Just hit me up with a text if you guys run into any problems."

"Aye-aye, sir!"

Jamil then makes his way to Sam’s shop, already feeling worried about Azul. He better not be exerting himself too much in there…

"...We're not gonna be contacting Prefect, are we?" Test-Groaner asks Gossipmonger once Jamil was out of earshot.

"And ruin their first date as a couple? Hell no." Gossipmonger scoffs.

Jamil opens the door to the shop and he hears Sam's laughter along with Azul's; they seem to have just finished a conversation.

Sam says he'd go check the stocks in the back, and he leaves with a friendly wave.

Azul turns back to his work and stocks the shelf behind him. He had removed his coat and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows; the muscles in his arms and torso flex under his shirt as he reaches up to stock the topmost shelves.

A student in a vampire costume smoothly walks from one of the aisles and approaches Azul.

Pomefiore, Jamil thinks.

"Azul Ashengrotto, isn't it?" he asks, standing behind Azul.

Azul glances behind him and turns to face the student with a polite smile. "Yes, good morning."

"Hansel Finnegan, Pomefiore," he says in his silken voice, extending a hand.

"A pleasure to meet you," Azul takes the handshake, standing straight like a proper RSA student.

"Oh no, not yet," Hansel says with a low chuckle, then he smoothly bows and lifts Azul's hand, brushing his lips lightly against the back of it.

Azul's eyebrows raise in surprise, but Hansel takes a step closer to him before he can say anything.

"Will you be staying long?" Hansel asks. "I can show you around, the Pomefiore castle looks especially gorgeous this week," he tilts his head.

"Ah," Azul seems to realize Hansel's intentions, but he retains his polite smile. "Thank you, but I'm afraid I already have plans."

"Oh? No more room in your schedule for a neck-biting creature of the night, then?" Hansel says playfully, taking another step forward.

Azul subtly tries to put more distance between them, but his back hits the shelf.

Jamil was quick to act, eyes shooting daggers as he makes his way over and clamps a hand on Hansel's shoulder.

"Hey," he greets, trying to sound as neutral as he can. He doubts his eyes are looking anywhere near friendly, though. "If we're talking about schedules, I heard your Prefect's calling all the costumed students over to the Pomefiore booth. Gates are gonna open in ten minutes and I wouldn't wanna be late if I were you."

Hansel turns to look at him distractedly. "Huh? Oh, that's more than enough time." He turns to Azul again. "What do you say, Azul? Would you like to come with me and see our booth?"

"I'm still busy at the moment," Azul gestures to the shelf. "I'm sure I'll have time to visit the Pomefiore booth later today."

"Our booth would be swarmed once the gates open because of our Prefect. I’m sure you know who Vil Schoenheit is," Hansel says with an air of smugness. "If you come with me now, I can give you a private tour, I'll show you behind the scenes of our preparations," he smiles and flutters his eyelids, his glitter eyeshadow drawing more attention to the color of his eyes.

"Such hospitable treatment…" Jamil mutters, slipping in between the both of them. "Perhaps you're better off dedicating that energy to actual visitors. He's already got a tour guide. It's me. Now back off before I knock those fake dentures out of you."

Hansel looks taken aback at Jamil's words, then he sneers. "And what makes you think you'd be a better tour guide than me? You're not even in costume."

"Hansel," Azul speaks up. "We wouldn't want you to get in trouble with your Prefect. Perhaps you should go to your booth now."

Hansel clenches his jaw for a moment. "Alright. But I'll look for you again, Azul." He looks at Jamil. "You don't have sole claim to him."

Jamil makes a friendly smile, seeing that Hansel is making direct eye contact with him.

And at that moment, he activates his Signature Spell.

He doesn't even need to do the chant for a chump like Hansel.

"Jamil…?" Azul mutters behind him, confused at what's happening.

The smugness in Hansel's smile disappears as his face goes slack, his blank now-crimson eyes staring at Jamil.

"Are you sure that Azul is something to be claimed?" Jamil sweetly asks, tilting his head. "You don't actually mean that, right?"

Hansel pauses for a moment before he shakes his head.

"Shouldn't you apologize to him for spouting all that stupid stuff, then?"

Hansel stiffly turns to Azul and bows, remorseful. "I'm sorry for being such a pee-pee poo-poo head, Azul."

Jamil snorts, trying to keep his laughter in. "You're doing great, er... Hansel, right?"

"Yes, Master," Hansel perks up, looking up at Jamil with great reverence. "Thank you, Master."

Azul's mouth opens in surprise. "Jamil," he says in a playfully scolding tone. "Using your Signature Spell for something like this, really?"

Jamil smiles back at Azul. "I know. A very worthwhile endeavor, no?" He turns to Hansel. "You, every time you look at Azul, any sense of inappropriate urges you get leaves you tongue-tied and unable to speak. Understood?"

"Understood, Master," Hansel furiously nods.

"Great! Now then… Why don't you head on over to your booth and really play your part as a fun vampire for the visitors to enjoy? Your Prefect would really appreciate all your efforts, I'm sure."

"Yes, Master," Hansel says in determination and bows deeply to Jamil before walking out of the door.

Azul stares after him in awe, then looks at Jamil in concern. "Are you feeling alright? That's quite the powerful magic you just used."

Jamil shrugs, feeling fine. "Honestly, he's one of the easiest targets I've had in a long time. I'm okay, don't worry. More importantly, looks like you gotta stop being so desirable, otherwise I really might end up having to resort to all kinds of methods just to keep people from trying anything. Seriously, though, he was being a creep. Are you all right?"

"It was a little unsettling, but yes I'm alright," Azul reassures him. "And what part of this is desirable, exactly?" he says in a more playful tone. "I'm doing grunt work restocking shelves."

"Mm-hm, and you look good doing it, that's the problem," Jamil replies pointedly. "If I was restocking shelves and I didn't have my jacket while my sleeves were rolled up, how would you react?"

A smile appears on Azul's face, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Oh, I don't know," he says in a feigned innocent tone. "Maybe you should try it so we can find out."

Jamil grins and shrugs. "You don't mind me just watching, do you? I already did all my grunt work outside." He does feel a little winded from all the running around they did while applying makeup and helping the other residents get in costume.

"Of course I don't mind, I'm almost done here, anyway," Azul says sincerely as he continues to stock the shelves.

Jamil glances around the interior to prevent himself from ogling his boyfriend too much. "By the way, other than that rude guy who just left, what do you think of this shop, as an aspiring business owner yourself?"

"It’s fascinating," Azul says. "Sam wasn't lying; it looks like you can find anything in here, stocking these shelves showed me that. I'm guessing you guys buy most of the stuff you need here?"

"Yep. Not once have I ever seen Sam run out of stock on something unless a whole dorm went and bought one specific item off of the shelves. Even then, they'd be fully restocked the next day... Not to mention that he seems to know what you're looking for even before you walk into his shop." He casts another glance around the shop's wares, suspicious this time. "Convenient, but a little unsettling… Do you guys have shops at RSA?"

"Perhaps that's part of his magic skills," Azul says, not sounding unsettled at all. "His shadow does seem to be sentient; I wouldn't be surprised if he has other powers that help him know what his customers want. And yes, we have shops at RSA, but they're different little shops for different things set up all over campus; instead of one big shop like this where you can find most things already."

He puts the last of the stocks on the shelves and brushes off his hands. He takes a step back and rests his hands on his hips, looking up and down the shelves.

"That looks proper enough, right?"

Jamil steps next to Azul and stares at the shelves before him. "I wouldn't know, since I don't know what's supposed to be stocked here, but... they seem perfectly fine to me. Look at you," he gives Azul an affectionate nudge on the shoulder. "Perhaps you'd make a good 'humble dockworker' hauling stuff around if the entrepreneur thing doesn't work out."

"Dockworker could work, everytime I need to renew my shifting potion I'd just jump in the water," Azul says playfully, then he walks over to the coat rack and takes his coat, draping it over his arm.

Jamil takes out a black glossy pamphlet and holds it out for Azul. "By the way, it's the stamp booklet. I managed to get one for you, just in time for—"

"Attention all students: Night Raven College's gates have now officially opened for visitors on Halloween Week's Second Day,” an announcement blares over the speakers outside.

"...That. C'mon, let's get the Scarabia stall stamped before we get swarmed with more people who could catch you looking this nice."

"’This nice'?" Azul asks as he and Jamil get out of the shop. "You do know this is just my school uniform. Every student in RSA wears this," he says in fond amusement.

"No, unfortunately even with the RSA coat trying to hide it, there's all this Azul charm going on around here." Jamil playfully gestures at the merman's face. "If I didn't know any better, I could say you're the one hypnotizing people towards you."

Azul laughs, his cheeks turning pink. "My, Jamil, are you saying you're feeling hypnotized by my charms?" he asks playfully through half-lidded eyes.

"As an expert on the subject, I have been for a long while now," Jamil replies, leaning forward to give Azul a kiss, beaming at the surprised and slightly flushed look on Azul’s face afterwards. "Now let's tell Sam we're heading off and get outta here already. Those booths aren't gonna explore themselves."

They bid goodbye to Sam—and his shadow—and head outside.

Author's Note:

For those who have read Chapter 14 of Granting Favors, you might recognize Hans of Pomefiore. Yes I did use the same OC in both fics. I just thought it would be funny for him to annoy Jamil in every universe 😌

<- Chapter 21

Chapter 23 ->

(Masterlist)

9 notes · View notes

issie-https · 1 year

Note

I loved reading your fanfics, could i ask you to do a story about Ménage à trois between Izzy Stradlin and Julian Casablancas from The Strokes, I'm crazy about these 2 mens!! and you can use my name if you want!!

Ménage à trois

Izzy Stradlin X Reader X Julian Casablancas

A/n: honestly, I kinda like this one🤷‍♀️ thank you for requesting! I’ve got some Nikki Sixx requests on the way😁

Word count: 1223

Warnings: smuttt(unprotected), blowjob, dirty talk, teasing, spanking, dacryphilia

Ménage à trois meaning:

an arrangement in which three people share a sexual relationship, typically a domestic situation involving a couple and the lover of one of them.

Main masterlist

༺✩༻

I woke up to my boyfriend, Izzy, slightly snoring. I decided to surprise him and Julian with a breakfast in bed. I don't do stuff like this often but they do a lot for me so, why not?

I make them a stack of pancakes each and a mug of coffee. I took Julian's first. "Julian, honey," I said softly, waking him up. "Hey," he rasped, sleep still in his voice. "I made you breakfast," I said proudly. "Aww, you're so cute," he laughed, tucking some hair behind my ear. "Eat up because we have some errands to run today," I said, putting the coffee on his nightstand and handing him the pancakes. "Do I have to come?" He groaned. "Yes, I'm dragging Izzy along as well so shut up," I laughed. "Fine. Love you," he said with a mouth full of food. "Love you too," I smiled, leaving his room and going to give Izzy his breakfast.

"Izz, wake up," I whispered, rubbing his arm. "You okay?" He asked, his voice deep from sleep. "Yeah, I made you breakfast," I smiled as he sat up. "Aww, you didn't have to, angel," he smiled, looking up at me. "We have some errands to run today, I've told Julian," I smiled. "Do we have to?" He mumbled. "Yes," I said, "I'm going to eat my breakfast. Come down when you're ready,".

I ate my food and went back upstairs for a shower. "Y/n?" I heard Julian call from the hallway. "I'm in the shower," I called back. He came in and closed the door behind himself. "I need you," he moaned. I looked down to see a bulge visible in his pants. "Aww, honey. Come here then," I cooed.

After an eventful... shower, I picked out my favourite leather skirt, a pair of tights and a white blouse, accompanied with my Mary Janes. "Thoughts?" I asked, giving Izzy and Julian a spin. "Gorgeous," Izzy said, exhaling some cigarette smoke. "Beautiful," Julian added, making me smile.

In all honesty, todays errands were getting some new clothes and also some new lingerie. I couldn't tell them that though because they'd just tell me to order it online or that they'll buy it for me but I like to make a day of it, y'know? Pamper myself for once.

We arrived at the mall and we went to Chanel first. "Seriously?" Izzy grumbled the second we entered the store. "Shut it," I glared at him. Next, we went to a random clothing store to get me a couple of skirts and dresses. Lastly, Victoria's Secret.

"Y/n. No," Izzy warned when I turned to the store. "Why? Don't you want to see me in some new lingerie?" I whispered in his ear. "Can't you just order it online?" Julian grumbled. "No, I wanna see what I look like before I buy it," I explained, grabbing their hands and dragging through the shop. "What about this one?" I perked. I got no reply so I looked around and saw both of them sat outside on their phones. "Little fuckers," I said under my breath.

I chose some pieces and went to the fitting rooms to try them on. I took some photos and sent them to Julian and Izzy, smirking at my pettiness.

Izzy: Get here now.

Me: No, I'm trying some lingerie on.

Izzy: You have five minutes.

I changed back into my clothes, went to the tills and bought all five pieces.

I went out to the guys to see them both scowling. "You okay?" I smirked. "Car. Now," Julian ordered. I smiled and turned on my heel towards the car park.

We arrived back home and I ran out of the car, inside and into the bathroom and locked the door. "Y/n Y/l/n. Open the door now," Izzy shouted to me through the door. "I'm changing. You and Julian can wait in the bedroom," I replied. "You're a bitch," he groaned under his breath.

I put on a white set and put my blouse back on but leaving the buttons undone.

I walked into the bedroom, seeing both of them sat on the bed, waiting for me. "Thoughts?" I asked for the second time that day. "You look like a whore," Izzy replied, scanning me with his eyes. I walked over to Julian and straddled him, looking into his eyes. "What do you think?" I asked him. "Same as Izzy," he replied blankly. I put on a fake pout, causing Julian to slap my ass. "I thought you liked it when I looked slutty?" I said, grinding myself on Julian's thigh. "Get up, now," Izzy ordered. I got off Julians lap and stood in front of them.

"Down on all fours, your gonna suck him off," Izzy said, standing up off the bed. I did as I was told, unbuckling Julians belt and helping him remove his pants, his hard dick sprung out, making my mouth water at the thought of him fucking my throat. I sunk my mouth down on his length, moaning when he finally hit the back of my throat. I felt Izzy behind me, rubbing his hands across my ass before giving me a hard slap, making me moan on Julian's dick. Izzy reached under me and unbuttoned my blouse and pulled it away from my body, leaving me in my lingerie. "Look how pretty you are," Izzy praised. He started rubbing his fingers on my clit, making me jolt a little from the sudden contact. Julian laced his fingers through my hair, tugging lightly. "You feel so good," he moaned as he pushed my head further down on his dick.

All of a sudden, Izzy removed his fingers from my clit, making me whimper at the loss of contact. I heard Izzy remove his leather pants and throw them somewhere in the room. He teased my entrance with his cock, holding my hip with his other hand. He slapped my ass before pushing his cock all the way into me, making me scream-moan as I felt him fill me up. Julian fucked my mouth, making my eyes fill with tears. "You're so fucking pretty when you cry," he said breathlessly. "Look at you, taking our dicks so well like a slut," Izzy groaned, quickening his pace. Sounds of skin slapping skin echoed through the room, adding to my arousal.

" 'm so close," I whimpered when Julian let me breathe. "Hold it," Julian said, slapping my cheek. The stinging sensation made me smile internally, liking the rough way they were treating me. Julian went back to fucking my throat as I felt them both twitch inside me. "Cum, princess," Izzy moaned as his thrusts became more sloppy. I came on his dick, moaning on Julian's. I felt them both cum in me, filling me up from both ends. "Good girl," Julian praised, rubbing my cheek. I swallowed his cum and Izzy pulled out of me. I felt our cum leak down my thighs. "I'll get a towel. You okay, angel?" Izzy said, standing up and walking to our shared bathroom. I nodded and mumbled a 'mhm'. He wiped my thighs then picked me up and put me in the middle of the bed. Both of them lay down beside me as we drifted off to sleep.

#guns n roses #gnr #izzy gnr #slash gnr #axl gnr #duff gnr #steven gnr #izzy stradlin imagine #axl rose imagine #duff mckagan imagine #julian casablancas #the strokes

36 notes · View notes

orange-orchard-system · 7 months

Text

This is a general observation on discourse (not about anything in particular, don't start accusing me of commenting on some drama or other), but I think people use "support" in a way that is... maybe too vague.

Like, when people use it for celebrities like JKR and the Harry Potter franchise, you know what they mean. If you're buying HP merch, you're financially supporting her. If you talk positively about HP (even if you don't "support" her in the form of personally approving of what she does), she sees that as support for her actions, and uses it as motivation to continue harming others. So, if someone engages with HP in this day and age (with the exception of critiques, which I'm decently sure cannot be misconstrued as support even by the bitch herself), it's understandable that people would see that as supporting JKR, especially with how knowledge of these actions counts as supporting her is spreading – it's not often something one can do unintentionally, not on Tumblr at least. In other spaces, one may be more likely to be out of the loop, but I've still seen information spread on other social medias and even irl about what exactly people mean by "supporting JKR", and what that entails.

This does not really translate to online discourse, with bloggers instead of celebrities. Unless a person is remarkably horrible, you're not going to know all their bad takes and behavior unless you dig for them. And most people don't dig for them! Why would they?! There's no obvious reason they should! A lot of people barely check DNIs!! Add to that the fact that when it comes to many strands of discourse, people will have tags or words filtered out, and will thus see only that someone is speaking on a topic, but not their actual opinions, and have no reason or desire to look at discussion on something they've purposefully tried to avoid just to find out what that someone is saying. So you've got a situation where people will accuse others of "supporting" someone they would have no good reason to know the bad takes or behavior of, and it's a miracle if the person making the accusation actually elaborates.

Moreover, "showing support" for bloggers isn't the same as famous people. Reblogging a post on one topic does not mean showing support for the OP's opinion on a separate topic (assuming the reblogger even knows of it, which can be very unlikely, given how posts can spread far from their blog of origin). And you can correct me if I'm wrong on this, but I don't think many bloggers assume support based on things like that. When you've seen people follow your blog even though they have a label or community you're part of in their DNI, you learn quick that engagement with your blog means shit all when it comes to people's opinions of you. I have no reason to see likes or reblogs as support for every word out of my mouth, only the specific ones that people are leaving notes on.

Circling back around to an earlier point I made, "support" in and of itself is a very vague concept. I think many folks using this term actually mean "approve", as in, "Do you approve of X's problematic actions?", but this hidden meaning makes such accusations even more ridiculous, especially when they're being leveled at a person just for a reblog or comment on another's post. Must you personally approve of everything a person has ever done in life to interact with them or treat them civilly? Must a person offer up for critique everything they have ever done in life so strangers can decide whether they deserve to be interacted with or treated civilly? This is a ridiculous demand to make of either side of an interaction, online or offline.

I know there's situations where this kind of questioning is warranted. I'm pretty sure a lot of users on here have found out they reblogged some innocuous looking post from someone they later found out was an asshole, and that put the reblogged post in a new light. But I don't see a lot of that with these accusations of "support". Instead, I often see people who others have simply decided are Bad, for one reason or another, and thus anyone who interacts with them must either denounce that interaction as soon as possible or be labeled as Bad too, even if they're not told why the OP is Bad. There's a difference between "hey, that person you reblogged from is an active asshole and bigot, just thought you might want to know" and "why do you personally approve of all these problematic actions that I will not elaborate on but assume you know about and support the continuation of (never mind if they were one-off occurrences or actually continued offenses) because you reblogged a post on the reblogging posts website. Answer quickly."

Even when you do get an explanation, it's often either a bunch of little things that aren't a big deal (which is like. Congrats, you found proof this person wasn't born perfect. Do you want a medal for your service?), or something blown out of proportion. Sometimes, yes, these little things piss me off enough to block the blog in question, but that's on a case-by-case basis based on my own feelings on the matter, not some kind of "three strikes you're out" policy. There's not a limit to how many times you can fuck up before people decide you no longer get to grow as a person. That's – and I'm not exaggerating, since I've seen similar concepts in actual books about this – something dystopian. "Yeah but they did A and B and C and D and –" and?? Are people never allowed to make mistakes or have unpopular opinions?? Do you think everything in the world must line up with how you personally feel it should?? Who the fuck are you to decide they've worded one post too many poorly and are thus A Bad Person??

And like. What's the point of it? What's the point of asking if someone "supports x blogger"? So you can label them as Bad By Association? So you can shame more and more people for interacting with people you've decided to other? That's called being an asshole at best and a bully (abuser, really, since bullying is also known as peer abuse) trying to make sure their victim has no positive relationships at worst. "I've decided I don't like this person and that they are Bad Now And Forever, so I'm going to tell everyone that they should never talk to this person ever, framing these actions in the worst possible light as I do so. And if they continue talking to this person and don't immediately accept my demands, they are also Bad Now And Forever, and all of them deserve to be othered, possibly even harassed depending on my feelings on the matter." That's fucking ridiculous.

All of this to say; accusing someone of "supporting x blogger", especially for something like reblogging a post from them, is ridiculous, and just reads as bait. You're not spreading awareness, you're not helping people keep themselves safe, you're just stirring up drama.

#front soup.txt #discourse mention #long post

9 notes · View notes