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himbosandhardwear · 3 months

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Eddie has a bad habit of picking at his skin when he's nervous. Not, like, shy nervous or stage fright nervous, but the real kind of nervous, not-sure-I’m-gonna-survive-this kind of nervous. Like while he was alone in the boat house, he'd shredded every one of his cuticles. That time Hopper caught him behind The Hawk, very obviously selling his wares, he'd bitten his lips bloody.

Tonight he's picking a scab off his knee. It's practically healed already, so it won't bleed, he just needs to feel something on his body come loose before he does.

“You good, dude?” Steve asks, so in tune to Eddie's nervous disposition. Such a good guy. What a friend.

Eddie lets his head hit his knee caps with a thunk.

“Yup.”

Steve snorts. “You don't look good. I mean… You know what I mean.”

He smiles, tilting his head to look at Steve, always happy to give him a hard time.

“Oh, absolutely. You think I look good, don't cha, Stevie?”

He gets a couch pillow to the face for that, but they're both laughing so he doesn't think he's crossed the line yet.

Yet, yet, yet.

“Seriously, what's up with you? You've been quiet. It makes me want to call the squad.”

“Har har,” Eddie mumbles, but he does uncurl himself, sitting back against the couch again. “I'm trying to work up the nerve to ask for advice but it's-” Christ, he doesn't even want to admit to being embarrassed, that's how embarrassed he is.

“It's what?” Steve asks, the picture of earnest encouragement. “You can talk to me about anything, man, we're, like, bonded in blood or whatever.”

“Right. Yeah. Except this has the potential to get real awkward, real quick, and I'm not sure we're at that level of friendship yet.”

“Well,” he drawls, “if you ask me whatever it is that's got you all flustered I'm sure that will level us up. Right?”

“I'm not flustered.” God damn his red fucking face. Steve just laughs at him. “It's just, I don't have anyone else to ask about this. Jonathan probably doesn't have this particular problem, cause he's got- Uh. Sorry.” Steve waves it away, so Eddie goes on. “The kids are too young and the band guys don't understand what we went through-”

“Eddie, just spit it out.”

“Fuck! Okay, fine! You asked for it.” He takes a giant breath, steels his spine and just says it. “The Trauma is affecting my ability to get laid and I don't know how to fix it. Every time I get close to it I freak out and have to bail.”

There. All out now.

He looks over at Steve, and it's so much worse than being laughed at or pitied. He just looks sad.

He shakes it off quickly, hair barely moving, Eddie notes. He finds Steve's hair routine both endearing and ridiculous.

“Yeah. Okay. That's super common, just so you know,” Steve assures him first. “Robin says it's all connected, your mind and your body, so trauma can, like, get trapped in weird places like that. I can't play baseball anymore. Cause the memory of beating demodogs to death.”

“As you do,” Eddie quips.

“Right. But your thing. Uh. Yeah, it took some time before I could relax enough to even attempt getting laid, let alone actually do it.”

“So?” Eddie drawls, waiting. “How did you get over it?”

Something is off. Steve's not known for being skiddish about sex, but his hesitation and his inability to look Eddie in the eye is setting off alarms.

“Hey, if this is too weird for you-”

“No, I'm good, it's fine. Just, I'm the only person you have to talk to about this, so I'm gonna try to be helpful but, uh,” he scratches at the back of his head awkwardly, “in all honesty, I haven't been laid since before Vecna either. Way before. So. Yeah. Not sure I should be giving out advice on anything.”

That's crazy. Like actually crazy. He can't even compute Steve Harrington not absolutely dripping in women. He must have some look on his face because Steve gives a dry sort of laugh, self deprecating, and leans back against the couch with him.

“Weren't you on a date with Brenda Mulligan the night- Vecna’s first attack?”

Steve shoots him a look. “Y- Yeah, but that didn't go anywhere. We weren't, like, compatible or whatever.”

Oh, yeah, it was weird that Eddie knew that at all, let alone remembered it nine months later. “That's too bad,” he replies lamely.

“Yep.”

He feels terrible for dragging down the whole night, it would've been better if he'd just kept his mouth shut. But that's never been his strong suit, as evidenced by him blurting out, “If the hottest guy in Hawkins can't find a suitable date, what fucking chance do I have.”

Steve snaps, “Don't say that. What the fuck?”

Great, now he's gone and made it weird. Good job calling your straight friend hot, you fuckin’ dipshit.

They sit in the awkward silence, out of things to say or out of useful things to say. Either way it's them breathing, the clock ticking, and the M.A.S.H. rerun playing softly in the background.

Steve clears his throat. “Whatever, let's get back to the point. You don't have to tell me if you don't want but…what do you think the specific reason is for your…issue?”

He thinks about it. Has been thinking about it, for a while now. “My dick still works, if that's what you're wondering.”

Steve chuckles, high and surprised. “Good for you.”

“Yeah. It's more like, I can't get out of my head. I start worrying about my scars, explaining them if someone asked. I think about how even though I don't want anything long-term, I wouldn't be able to do long-term anyway, because I'm a fucking mess. If it's really bad, I'll get flashes of Chrissy or Patrick's bones snapping, as a little soundtrack to the fun shit happening outside my head.”

Steve looks sad again. Maybe it is pity but it looks more turned inward, like he's dealing with his own shit more than Eddie’s.

“You hooking up with strangers then?”

Eddie blinks at Steve. “Well…duh. Right? Not like I have guys lined up around the block here in Hawkins.”

Steve is full blown scowling at the TV. It's weird.

“What if-”

Eddie waits but Steve doesn't finish his thought.

“What if…what?” He prompts, giving a little nudge with his foot.

He's still avoiding eye contact, not even turning his head to look in Eddie's direction.

In a soft voice, almost too quiet to hear, he says, “What if we helped each other out?”

He must've heard that wrong. Or he's misunderstanding.

“What?”

“What if we help each other out? Like, a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

That can't be right. No fucking way. It's a test. Like as soon as Eddie agrees, Steve yells ‘Aha! I knew you wanted to molest me! Goodbye forever!’ and runs out the door.

“What, exactly, do you mean? Like, what are you getting out of it?”

Steve finally looks over. “Well, I would think that was obvious. If you're willing.”

Eddie's legs are starting to go numb.

“Okay, so I blow you and you blow me, except when you're doing it I have to watch you take it like you're being force fed liver and onions at Grandma's house?”

Steve slowly shakes his head no.

“Oh, okay, so you're going to blow me and enjoy it,” he snaps sarcasticaly.

Steve nods once.

“You want to blow me?”

“Mmhmm,” he hums without moving a muscle.

“Since when!” Eddie brings his octave down from the upper atmosphere. “Since when, Harrington? This is insane behavior. Should I call the squad for you? I'm serious. I'll do it.”

“You don't have to say yes. I was just offering.” He says it like Eddie isn't one green flag away from stomping on the gas.

He starts nervously laughing, which makes Steve flinch unfortunately, but he can't stop.

“It's cool, just forget I said anything.” He moves like he's about to get up and leave, which is fucking insane because it's his living room. Eddie stops him with a tight grip around the bicep.

“Don't you dare. If you're even remotely serious, we have to have a much longer conversation. Sit.”

Steve drops like a sack of bricks. Which is…something.

“Right. First off, this is uncommon behavior in a straight friend. Is there something you'd like to tell me, so I don't think you've been body snatched?”

He pinches at the top of his nose, like Eddie is inconveniencing him greatly. Too bad.

“I'm probably bisexual.”

“Probably?” Eddie asks with a raised eyebrow.

“I'm an inexperienced bisexual,” he amends through clenched teeth.

“Good. Great. Happy to hear it.” His heart may explode from his torso à la Ridley Scott's Alien but sure. “Second on the agenda, what do you mean help each other out? What's on the table? Mutual handjobs and then we never talk about it again?”

“No,” Steve answers immediately. That's good. “I'm open to…whatever you're open to.”

“Steve.” He has to clear his throat. “You dont even know what you're agreeing to.”

“I trust you.”

Fuuuuuck.

“Okay, right, uh, let's circle back to that later. Third thing, what, uh, what is your level of commitment with this?”

He just stares at Eddie, all doe eyed. It shouldn't work, Eddie fucking invented that look. It's gotten him out of more scrapes than he can count. Now it's being used against him but to what end? Does Steve want to get bundled up in a blanket and tucked into bed? Because Eddie can make that happen for him.

“Whatever you want, I guess,” he finally says. “I mean, like I said earlier, friends who help each other out. Casual. I'm not interested in looking for Mrs Harrington anymore and you're having a problem relaxing around guys who don't understand what you went through.” He makes a gesture like ‘Ta da.’

He's not wrong. It makes sense. But…

“Fourth thing. Is this just an experiment for you? Cause I'm all for you exploring your sexuality but, historically speaking, friends are a bad place to start.” AKA ‘it will break my fucking heart if you decide you're not that into it and it's because it's me.’

“Eddie. Look.” He gets more comfortable, facing Eddie straight on finally. “What you're going to provide is practical knowledge on what has only been theoretical up to this point, but the theory has already been well established.” He taps his head. “Understand?”

A smug confidence melts Eddie into the couch. “You liiike me,” he sings. “You think about me naaaked. You wanna-”

Steve lands on him, lacking any elegance or grace, and nearly caves their skulls in with his Jay Garrick approach to kissing. Eddie doesn't say a fucking word. He does wonder at the fucking majesty that is making out sober. What a revelation. Steve keeps making these tiny, almost wounded noises, to the point where Eddie tries to back up and do a check in but Steve doesn't let him, he chases him down and latches back onto Eddie's bottom lip like he's Hannibal Lector. It's stupid hot.

Everything is going great until Steve lets out a sound that legitimately has Eddie worried he's upset about something.

He pulls back and asks, “Are you okay?”

“Oh fuck, I'm sorry. I just can't, I can't believe I got this fucking far. You're so hot I'm losing my fucking mind.”

“Me?” Eddie snaps. “Dude, you're out of your mind.” He pokes Steve in his meaty chest. “Literal. Prom. King.”

“Fucking stupid high school shit, are you kidding me?” He sits up, straddling Eddie's hips, which is boner enhancing to say the least; he's got Steve's thighs in his grasp immediately. “You don't get it, I'm gone on you. I've got it bad, man. I was playing it cool earlier-”

“At no point tonight were you in any way playing it cool.”

“-but, fuck it, guess I'm ruining it, cause I can't be cool about this. I don't want casual. I don't even want to date you,” and before Eddie can even worry about that, he says, “I wanna skip straight to boyfriends, man. I know you said you didn't want long term with anyone but-”

Eddie interrupts again, this time by pulling Steve back down horizontal and kissing him like he just bravely declared himself as all in.

If this is a pod-person, well, that's a problem for Tomorrow Eddie. Tonight Eddie just landed Steve Harrington as a boyfriend.

#i might save this to flesh out later #who knows #steddie #ficlet #my writing

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fev3rish · 3 months

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PROMISES. kenji tots w/ v

kenji makes promises he knows he’ll keep.

cw. early relationship, kenji is too relatable with his issues, kenji thinks you’re stupid but in reality he’s the stupid self deprecating one, you DID infact change him

notes. i love you kenji sato. have dinner with me PLEASE PLEASE PLEAS EPELASE

thinking about kenji sato and how he first says ‘i love you.’

thinking about how he’s always talking, and how every one hangs on to his every word. thinking about how he’s so boisterous, and bold—about how he’s always so loud. thinking about how he was that way with you once too, when you weren’t anything to him but at best a means to an end. thinking about how he speaks with certainty, how he rarely lets his voice break. he never does. not in front of people.

kenji constantly has his guard up, always ready for the worst to happen—because it almost always does. then you come in, and his walls come crashing down on him as he tries to step back. he tries to distance himself, to leave, because if you’re too good to be true, then you’re too good for him to stay. he doesn’t want you to, but you do anyway. you place a hand on his cheek and tell him everything will be okay; he doesn’t have to do it alone. you’ll be there. you promise him, and he thinks you’re stupid. he thinks you’re stupid for wanting to stay with him, stupid for wanting to be with him, and you think he’s stupid for thinking of himself like that. you could be so much more, kenji tries to tell you—but you shut him down.

he remembers that day like it was yesterday—when you told him that “we could be so much more.”—when you told him that regardless of whether or not he wanted you to, you would stay. you place your hand on his cheek, and for the first time, his voice breaks in front of you. he’s quiet as you confess your love, because he doesn’t think he deserves it in the first place—but he does. you hold him close to your chest, and you tell him you love him. he is the last thought in your mind as you fall asleep, and he knows, and it makes him sick to his stomach. he doesn’t say i love you back, but in your slumber, he says all he’s wanted to say, and his words seep into your dreams.

“i’m… going to try. with you. i want to try with you.” he starts, squeezing his eyes shut because he hopes you don’t hear him—hopes you don’t wake up in the middle of it. “i can’t describe you as anything else but…ugh, that’s corny.” he stops himself, it’s too much—he wants to call you his, already—he wants to call you ‘mine.’

but he doesn’t, kenji wants you to be awake when he does. “that whole thing—the things you said, that was the first time someone spoke to me like that. the first time they didn’t just give up on me. that was so…new. you’re so new. you’re something else, i swear.” he scoffs, he finds it so weird he’s practically talking to himself—but when you love like someone, it can make you do crazy things. “you’re right. we can be so much more. and i want to be. i want to be so much more. i—i have a duty to be good, like.. a good person. i have so much i haven’t told you. but i will tell you. when i’m ready, and when you are, too. i have a duty to be as good to you as i am to the people… it might seem a bit weird—like i’m some sort of hero— but that’s not the point. i’ll help you understand soon. the point is i’ll definitely take care of you. i know you can take care of yourself, but i’ll be there to…”

his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek. “i’ll be there to open your jars, and taste your new recipes… i’ll be there to brush your hair on days you can’t.” kenji continues, before taking his blanket and draping it over you. “—i’ll drape my blanket over you every night you fall asleep in this bed. make you coffee in the morning, too, because i know you wake up later than me.”

it’s like you’re taking his heart and squeezing it hard; he doesn’t want you to let go. he wants to say it back, to confess his fondness of you just as you did to him—but he can’t. he can’t say it, his mouth burns when he tries to—but he wants to. he settles on promises he knows he’ll keep, for as long as you’ll have him. slowly, his eyes shut—and his mouth opens up into a yawn. but he doesn’t miss a beat when he says, “i’ll definitely make you happy.”

you wake up to the sunlight pouring through the blinds and a bed that’s still warm, but already spacious. you turn and kenji is there, walking into the room with two cups of coffee and an uncharacteristically shy smile on his face. he greets you good morning, and as you ramble to him about your dream, quoting some points he made while you were asleep, he wants to tell you it wasn’t exactly all a dream. he wants to tell you what exactly he said, but he doesn’t. if he did, kenji would risk revealing things he can’t reveal. so he just listens to you; the sunlight hits your face just right, and your hair is messy but he’s not bothered by it. you’re annoyed, as your eyes get caught in the sun’s rays, and you crane your neck away, your hand shielding yourself from the brightness—and you’re so beautiful.

you might as well be the sun, with how you blind him whenever he looks at you—you nourish him, you give him energy, and you are what makes his day. you are the sun. he doesn’t know what he is, and he doesn’t even care. your every word is gospel, and he listens to it— to you—as if you’re a prophet. heavensent. divinely made. he wouldn’t be surprised if you were. if there’s anyone he wants to be listening to, it’s you.his mouth burns, but he’d be damned if he didn’t say it right now. you’re definitely the love of his fucking life; kenji has not been so certain in his life.

“i love you.”

you go silent, and then you let out the most happy little laugh— a big, big smile on your face.

the burn subsides as quick as it came.

#kenji sato x reader #ken sato x reader #kenji sato #ken sato #ultraman #ultraman rising #ultraman 2024 #ultraman rising x reader #ultraman kenji sato

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lovebugism · 5 months

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Hi there 👋🏻 I've been binge reading your stories lately and I love them all! I have a request if you're up for it. Could you write one where shy!reader doesn't like her laugh because some people think it's annoying but Eddie loves it? Totally not self-projecting by the way! 🙃 Thank you!

thank you angel! please enjoy :D — eddie comforts you when he finds out an old boyfriend made you hate your laugh (shy!fem!r, established relationship, hurt/comfort, 1k)

You and Eddie sit on opposite sides of the worn, sunken-in couch — long legs bent at the knees, socked feet wedged neatly beneath your thighs. Your bare calves rest on either side of his lap while his calloused palms rub up and down the length of them. His touch is largely absentminded as he tries hopelessly not to laugh through the punchline of his own joke.

“—And I was like, ‘Boom. You lookin’ for this?’”

You think the brown-eyed look of expectancy he gives you is funnier than anything. You smile wide, hiding the sparkling expression behind your palm.

Eddie meets your beam with a boyish pout. He repeats the punchline, more serious this time. “And I was like, ‘Boom’—”

“I heard you, Eds,” you assure with a small chuckle. A mere breath of a laugh.

His frown deepens. “Oh, c’mon!” he exclaims, lifting his hands in protest. They drop back to your ankles a second later. “That was funny! That always kills with Hellfire!”

You nod rapidly, brows raised and eyes wide, like a parent comforting a child. “It was good,” you assure quickly.

“Then why aren’t you laughing?”

“So, what— I have to laugh if I think something’s funny?”

“Well, that’s usually how it works, yeah,” Eddie monotones with a flat face, nodding until his wild curls sway around his jaw. He shrugs lazily a second later and jokes, “If you’re not a psychopath, at least… You’re not a serial killer, are you?”

You meet his narrowed eyes with a more pensive gaze. Your lips purse to the side of your mouth as you jokingly ponder the silly question. “No,” you answer after a few long moments. “Not yet, anyway.”

Eddie nods like he’s relieved. “Nice.”

“There’s still time, though,” you add with a scrunched nose.

He scrunches the bridge of his back. “I’ll take that risk,” he says with a small huff before lifting his weight on his knuckles. The old couch creaks in protest as he leans over to kiss you.

With a poorly bitten-back grin, you meet him halfway. Your mouths smack together in a fleeting kiss that tastes faintly of frozen pizza.

You settle back on the arm of the couch with Eddie’s socked toes wriggling under your thighs. His thumbs continue tracing shapes on the insides of your calves. He watches you watch the staticky television screen, too wound up about the whole thing to join in on the stupid sitcom.

The subtly overwhelming feeling bubbles in his throat until it spills like vomit from his mouth. “Do you think I’m not funny or something?” he blurts, then goes all shy right after. “Is that why… Is that why you don’t really laugh at my jokes?”

Your breathy scoff only further proves his point. “I laugh at your jokes all the time, Eds.”

He shrugs, unconvinced. “I mean… I guess. You, like, breathe really hard through your nose or whatever, but you don’t… You don’t laugh.”

“I think if you heard me laugh, you’d break up with me,” you joke and don’t think twice about how self-deprecating it is.

Eddie’s face twists at the thought — that he’d ever want to break up with you, or that there’d be a part of you he wouldn’t automatically adore on instinct. “Why would you say that?”

You shrug with a vague I don’t know type of sound and turn back to the television. “My laugh is just weird, I guess....”

“No one’s laugh is weird!” Eddie insists. “It’s, like, the one sound people make when they’re happiest— It can’t be weird.”

You flash him a deadpan look of silent disagreement.

He caves.

“Okay. Fine. Dustin Henderson’s laugh is weird,” he concludes. “But… that’s just because he’s Dustin, you know?”

You breathe a faint chuckle at that. Almost like you’ve trained yourself to be as quiet in your laughter as you can.

“My last boyfriend thought my laugh was annoying,” you confess like it’s no big deal. “So eventually I just kinda… stopped.”

Eddie’s soft features harden into a solemn frown. “What a fucking prick…” he grumbles like a storm cloud.

“It’s okay. I got over it. Mostly.”

He squeezes the backs of your calves with a pair of ringed hands, a warm and reassuring touch. “Well, I don’t think anything you do could annoy me,” Eddie tells you, tilting his head to the side until his wild curls bunch at his shoulders. “Just so we’re clear.”

Something in your chest flutters — like there’s a thousand moths trapped behind your ribcage. “Good to know,” you tease in the same sardonic tone.

Eddie rises suddenly, tugging at your ankles until you’re lying flatter on the couch. A squeal sound in your throat as you watch him rise to his knees and lean over you. He digs his fingers gently into the plush of your sides before you can blink.

“Get off!” you swat at him, laughing loudly at the tickling sensation before you can help it. The golden sound spills from your lips and fills the dim trailer with so many little sunbeams.

Your face heats at the proud, lopsided smile Eddie gives you.

“Get off,” you repeat, sterner now but still mostly playful. You’re only slightly surprised when Eddie obeys without pouting. You sit up a bit more and tug your shirt down from where it had ridden up. “And stop looking at me like that.”

Eddie fights to purse his beam to the side of his mouth. Your sparkling, unsmiling disposition is impossible not to smile at. “Can’t help it,” the boy shrugs with a stupid grin. “You’re too cute.”

Your face scrunches in disdain of his compliment. You prop your back against the couch and cross your arms over your chest, averting your gaze to the TV once more. “Just drive me home,” you grumble in protest, hardly meaning it.

“No can do, sweet thing,” Eddie says with a sympathetic sigh, dropping a heavy arm around your shoulder to pull you into his chest. You melt begrudgingly into his sloppy embrace. He presses a kiss to your hair and mumbles into your temple. “‘M never letting you go, actually.”

And, despite your very obvious pouting, you pray he never breaks his promise.

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble

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koolades-world · 9 months

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Helloooo it's me again back with another obey me request :)

Could I get the Demon bros with a depressed MC? I'm having a rough time rn and I just need some comfort but ofc feel free to ignore if u don't do requests like these!!

Have a nice day/night!! ♡☆♡☆♡

hi! of course! sorry I'm so late on this!!! also love your pfp (huge pjsekai fan)

Part of the reason I took so long is because I just didn’t know where to start

I love the demon bro I wanna squeeze them like a squishmellow and they’ve gotten me thorough some tough stuff

it's hard for me to articulate anything relating to depression just because I struggle to open up about it especially after my diagnosis. I don’t think anyone except my mom knows only because she was in the room at the time, and all you guys now of course haha

sorry if that was worded so weird and if anything below is worded weird but it’s just hard for me to find words to put together how I’m feeling but writing is my therapy so thank you for this request :)

Brothers with a depressed Mc

Lucifer

would def notice something was up right away from the first meeting, not because of how you acted, but just because it's Luci

once he officially found out, he made all arrangements needed right away

you need a few days off school? you got it, he's already talking to diavolo

you need a break from chores? you got it, he distributed the work among the rest of the family

there's only one thing you feel like eating? you got it, it's what everyone is eating for dinner

supportive in a quiet way, and does all sorts of little things to lighten the load

Mammon

as your first and best man, he acts as your knight and is willing to do anything to help you out

he tries his best to correct his own bad habits so you can work together on yourself

like, for example, if you struggle to get out of bed in the morning, he will get up and moving earlier so you can be up at the same time

nobody is perfect! he tells you this all the time because he knows how dark everything might seem sometimes

he partially understands how you feel since being the family punching bag for hundreds of years takes a toll on someone

he’s with you in every step of your journey, ups and downs, no matter what

Levi

he often has his own self deprecating thoughts, so he knows what you’re dealing with

everyone copes in their own ways but he hopes by sharing all the things he loves, he can bring some happiness

he shared everything with you, both his physical possessions and his thoughts

if you prefer to just sit together, he can do that, but if you want to talk about it, he will do his best to also share how he’s feeling

he wants you to be able to use him as a support system and as someone to fall back on

he always tries to bring a smile to your face and to be someone you trust, despite his own flaws

Satan

he shows you the little joys in life, the ones you might struggle or forget to see like sunsets and how the clouds change color with the sky, or how soft flower petals can be, or how a smile can change someone’s entire day

often he invites you out to places, for no reason at all so you can enjoy everything, especially the sun

he takes you on trips to the human world to visit your favorite places and occasionally see your favorite people if he’s allowed

he helps you with school work and takes the load when ever he can

if you asked him, he would do anything for you <3

Asmo

he always helps you out with your personal hygiene since often, that's what goes first

it's much easier to keep a routine if someone is doing it with you, and Asmo would never forget, so he help keep you on track

but, he's also not pushy about it. if you'll let him, he'll do some of the tasks for you, no strings attached

he's with you at your worst and best. he's not going anywhere

he's determined to be your personal cheerleader and will celebrate all the small things with you

Beel

at first, he's a little shocked at the changes in eating patterns, but supports you when ever and where ever you need it

if he knows there's only one food you will eat, he will physically restrain himself from eating it because he knows how much it means to you

exercise helps but he knows it's probably the last thing you want to do, so he helps you though little bits at a time and takes you out to get a reward afterwards

spending time with you makes him happy, so he figures it must be the same the other way around so he makes an effort to just be with you, even if its just sitting together while you do different things

often finds himself seeking you out just to ask how you are by instinct, proving what a sweetheart he is

Belphie

an interrupted or strange sleep cycle is something he would for sure notice

he becomes the biggest cuddle bug and will often give you sleepy kisses

when you're resting, he'll give you sweet dreams that will leave you feeling warm and fuzzy afterwards

he makes an effort to make the bed just how you like it, and before long makes it a habit to join you in your room for naps and bedtime

he doesn't mind if you wake up at weird time and will wait with you as long as you need to get up

thank you again for such the long wait! hope you enjoyed and hope you're feeling better now <333

#obey me #obey me!#obey me x reader #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me levi #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me mammon #obey me lucifer #omswd #obey me shall we date #obey me mc #headcanons #gn reader

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ellecdc · 8 months

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hear me out - a remus fic but set in come back be here, like maybe a muggle and remus is instantly smitten but has no idea how to navigate but everyone is pushing for him to actually go for it and it’s just chaos but in the best way possible… regardless come back be here was AMAZING

CBBH Remus x muggle!barista gn!reader

(Pretend they have phones for this okay? Thank you lol)

CW: just fluff, swearing, self deprecation, making a fool of oneself - you know, the remus lupin special

Remus would describe himself as many things.

He was a wizard. He was a werewolf. He was a business owner. He was an uncle. He was a friend. He was a war hero.

He was also, apparently, a coward.

He knows this to be true because he’s sat in the same spot that he’s been haunting all week – a chair in the far back corner of the café – pretending to look over ledgers in his notebook while he actually watches you work.

It’s fucking pathetic, is what it was.

He watched as you smiled politely at every customer in line – even the ones who weren’t as polite to you as Remus thought they ought to be.

He felt silly, really, watching you like a creep. He shouldn’t be here to begin with. He had stumbled upon this café completely by accident two weeks ago whilst in the city to pick up more muggle literature to add to his bookstore on Diagon Alley.

It was here he saw you, as if you were a siren calling him to this sodding caffeinated inlet to damn him to hell.

What a willing victim he was.

But he shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t get caught up with you. It was unthinkable. Most witches and wizards would have a hard time coming to terms with someone like, well, someone like him.

He was a burden. A risk.

It was selfish to think he could entertain the thought of you.

Suddenly, as if she’d known he was talking poorly of himself, his phone buzzed.

Remus tried to steal himself as he took a deep breath.

Right Lupin, you’ve done scarier things before. He thought to himself. You’ve run with wolves, you’ve gone undercover into enemy bases, you’ve deceived the dark lord right in front of his slimy fucking face, and you’ve even told Sirius once you thought his hair looked weird. By all means, you can talk to a barista.

Except...well...he really kind of couldn’t talk to a barista. He had made it all the way to the counter, even smiled politely at you as he stepped up to the cash register and...

And then words left him. Failed him. Completely abandoned him. He even thinks there may be a little stickie note in his brain that says ‘resignation effective immediately’ where words should be because he’s staring right at you with your gorgeous eyes and lovely hair and perfect features and for fuck sakes why isn’t he saying anything!?!?!

“Is there something I can get for you?” You asked so sweetly like this bloke wasn’t standing with his mouth agape at your cash register making a sure and utter fool of himself; like you had all the time in the world for the poor bastard.

“Uhm, uh...” He tried finally as if only now realizing he had functioning vocal chords.

“Uhm, fuck, I’m so sorry uhm...”

You chuckled at him. Holy shit you chuckled at him. It was the most beautiful sound Remus thinks he may have ever heard. He hoped you’d do it again, though, at the rate he’s going it was really very likely.

“I’m so sorry. I swear I’m not usually like this. Uh,” He apologized awkwardly as he scratched the back of his neck.

“I hope this isn’t too forward, but I think you’re lovely and would, uh, like to get to know you. You don’t have to say anything now!” He interrupted as you began to interject. “In fact, for my pride's sake, I’d prefer if you didn’t. But I’d like to leave my number here for you, in case you’d like to text me some time.”

He offered you the kindest smile he could muster as you took the now crumpled and sort-of-damp-from-his-sweaty-palms note in your hand with a smile of your own.

Now, Remus wouldn’t say he ran out of the café, per se. He would describe it as more of a jaunt, or perhaps a brisk walk. But he did nearly take out a woman with a pram as he all but flung the door open in his haste to get away.

You stupid ridiculous bastard. He scolded himself as he made his way to the closest apparition point. If Sirius could see you know, you’d never hear the end of it.

His phone buzzed and Remus nearly dropped it in his haste thinking it might be Sirius having somehow actually seen what just took place.

Then he nearly dropped it again as he saw a new text from an unknown number.

Perhaps Remus wasn’t such a coward after all.

#marauders come back be here #come back be here one shot #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin #moony #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fanfiction #Remus Lupin ficlet #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #marauders era #reader insert #self insert #ellecdc fics

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s3thwrit3sstuff · 7 months

Note

hello seth! i don’t think my tumblr works with anon so i’ll just send it like this! i’m a huge fan of your writing and i absolutely adore it. whenever i am in the need for a good story and writing inspiration i go to your blog. so i was hoping if you could write a sally face fic! i haven’t seen too many on here and willing to write for m reader or ftm.

i like the thought of being with sally and just having time with him, soft domestic type stuff. then he starts asking you how you really feel about his face and you smile and take off his mask with permission and kiss him saying he’s beautiful and to not worry. you kiss him and hold him. he then sits up but keeps your lips locked and you begin to explore each other sexually but in a such intimate way you both are crying almost. if you want could be m reader but i would love a ftm reader! can we also have reader be bottom but still be guiding sally and affirming him. i know this is a big ask and you’re always working so hard so please take liberty with this ask! take what you want from it and remove what you don’t like. i just love you’re writing. take your time as well! writing can be draining sometimes and you really need to find that inspiration so i want to make sure you feel no pressure!

have a good day/night/evening!!<3

❝ I'll show you how we're supposed to feel (when we meet at Orion's belt) ❞

warnings: mentions of facial dysphoria, self-deprecating thoughts (Sal), unprotected sex, praise (a lot of it), minor hair pulling, creampies, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like cunt and boypussy are used)

masterlist ;

authors note: thank you so much for your kind words! hearing that you use my writing as writing inspiration made me feel so warm and fuzzy on the inside oh lord 😭 you're too kind! This request was the softest one I've ever worked on, thank you so much for gracing me with the opportunity to write this~

*song on repeat: Orion's Belt by Sabrina Claudio / Baby Girl by SMNM

"Cold, cold, cold," Sal lifts his head from the couch. The sight of you rushing down the wooden stairs in nothing but a towel makes him lift himself to sit. "Fuck! Sal, you should put carpet in here!" Grinning, he leans forward and folds himself in half to stare at you furiously lifting the towel up to wrap around your shoulders instead.

"You hate carpet. B'sides, it'll get that weird moldy smell in here. I told you to get those fuzzy slippers," Gizmo meows in agreement from his corner of the couch. "Traitor!" you exclaim and he simply meows once again, lifting a leg to lick his stomach and Sal reaches over to give his head a good scratch.

"See? Even Gizmo agrees."

"Gizmo has in-built fuzzy socks. He has no say in this," your huffing and puffing simply makes Sal roll his eye, lifting Gizmo up to place the large cat right on his stomach while he props his head onto the armrest of the couch. Gizmo stretches out onto his torso, unbothered by the change in position while he presses his nose into Sal's chest and twists until he's nearly full on his back; the action makes Sal secure the old cat on him. His olive-toned arm loosely wrapped across Gizmo's purring body.

You're still rambling but it's all background noise to Sal. The sight of your bare legs and backside calls for his attention and despite how guilty he feels, he can't help but drag his sight all the way up to your — now — bare shoulders. The towel is now limply draped over the towel rack, and your muscles and bones are moving seamlessly underneath the fabric of your skin.

Everything about you can make him feel like he's going to explode. In a good way, if you can believe it. He sure as hell didn't. Sal remembers the first time he saw you, thinking you looked cool and that it was nice your interests lined with his. Somehow you managed to become more than that.

More always scared Sal. It was greedy and selfish. He wasn't religious but there was a sense of anxiety that came from wanting and needing more than you were given. Some sort of divine guilt was planted within him through passing by churches and reading the signs of worship plastered on billboards. Needing more is frightening, especially from other people.

More time spent with you two. More hours of listening to you speaking. More days spent with you in his home, bare skin and bare soul all for him and only him.

It frightened him!

Because, as self-centered as it sounds, he'd have to give you more. Don't take this the wrong way, he wants to — God, he wants to — but...but...

What if you don't like all that he has?

The fabric of his skin is spoiled. Marred. One of his eyes is artificial, his jaw asymmetrical, bone blown to bits, nose cut off and skin grafts stitched together and spliced.

His heart hammers in his chest, and his breathing is shaky as he squeezes Gizmo. The patch-furred critter mews, twisting once again and crawling up. His weight on Sal's chest is comforting. The pressure across it squeezed down on him, reminding his body that it was real and he was safe.

"In conclusion, I propose we buy a heater! That way we can — "

You're dressed in Sal's pajama pants, hands in the middle of pulling down the oversized band shirt when you notice Sal squeezing his eyes shut.

"Sal? Baby? What's wrong?" You sit by his legs, placing a hand on his knee and pressing your hands on it to ease him back down. "You're okay, baby. You're okay." It's not often Sal gets like this. You've known him ever since he came to Nockfell County; you know he's the type of person to withdraw within himself when his anxieties get the best of him. He's certainly gotten better with time and as your friendship — and eventual relationship — got stronger, the both of you worked on ways to lean on each other when things get tough.

Sal inhales deeply, Gizmo raising with the motion, and exhales. You don't pry more, giving him room to find the words and tether back to you. Gizmo's purrs muffle the silence.

"Sorry, just, the sight of your ass gave me a heart attack, Jesus," the joke is met with a loose grin but Sal knows you better than that. Still. He's grateful you snort at his jesting. Gizmo stands — Sal grimaces as he puts all his weight on his sternum — then walks over to your lap instead. The sight makes him calm down.

The faded grey of the once-black band shirt and his pajama pants do too. It's silly but the sight of you in everything that's his comforts a part of him. You're here. You're in love with him. Your gaze holds nothing but patience and adoration and a tinge of worry.

But you're here, in his clothes, in his room, his cat in your lap, and your hands on his body.

"You feeling better, Sal?" He nods, pushing to sit. "Do you wanna talk about it, baby?" Gizmo gives your chin one more bump before he jumps on the floor and meanders his way to his food bowl. Taking the chance, you inch closer to Sal and he's grateful for it.

You're not scared of the cold prosthetic on his face. The iron bolts that secure the straps to his face and head, the glass eye that shines humourlessly in any situation.

"Do you ever want...more from this? From me?" That line of questioning made your brows furrow and mouth frown. "What do you mean?" You reach for him and Sal reciprocates by holding your hand in his lap.

"I was joking about seducing Mr Smith from the electronics store for a heater," he scoffs at your lame joke but continues. "I don't mean that, I'll get us a heater. Just..."

"You've never seen...all of me." His grip loosens but you don't let it. "So?" he looks at you, his face angled low and the shape of his prosthesis mimics his brow bone. Sal is pinching his face, confused at your indignant tone.

"So?" He whispers. You lift his hand up, inching in closer and placing his knuckles over your clavicle.

"So?"

"Doesn't it freak you out? We've been together for so long and you've never seen my face," he murmurs. Since you're so close, speaking above a whisper would ruin this moment. Sal's heart is racing again though this time the anxiety is laced with his love for yours. It's a confusing emotion but he relishes the way you press your forehead to his, nose bumping with the bump on his prosthesis.

"Do you want me to see your face?" He inhales sharply, glancing away.

"...I do. But..."

"Mm?" you spread his fingers out, guiding them to your neck and the calloused pads of Sal's fingers make gooseflesh spread. The hairs on the back of your neck standing in applause; because that's what he does to you.

He makes your pupils expand, makes your heart race, makes your brain produce dopamine; your body lights up like a goddamn firework when he so much as looks your way. You can be yourself with him without fear because you know you do the same to him.

"...I've only ever let you kiss me when it's dark. The first time we had sex, I couldn't even take off the mask...I just...I'm..."

Your frown deepens when Sal sighs, his shoulders dropping.

"Be honest. Does it bother you?"

He's glad you don't reply immediately. A part of him always worries your love for him overtakes everything else. That, if something ever happens between the two of you and it tears you apart, you'll feel regret once the love is gone. You brush his hair behind his ear, cupping his jaw as you shake your head.

"No. It doesn't. Because it's you, Sal. I love you. Even the parts you aren't ready for me to see." He exhales and his breath escapes through the slits of his mouth. You feel it on your thumb and it makes you grin.

There's a twitch in his eye and your grin falters for a moment before it reappears when he locks eyes with you.

"...Do you want me to see your face, baby?"

His jaw is set. His tongue is made of lead. So Sal simply closes his eyes and gives you a minuscule nod. If it weren't for your hand on his jaw, you probably would've mistaken it for a twitch.

"Can I take off your prosthetic?"

Another nod.

"Are you sure, baby? I won't do it if you're not — "

"I'm sure." He says in one breath. "I'm sure."

A moment of silence was shared and you leaned forward to press your lips in the molding of his. The cool material does not pulse or pump with life but it's your Sal's and you cherish it deeply; he exhales shakily and you grin as your fingers dance through the locks of blue to find the straps that hold the prosthetic in place.

It's secure, it's meant to be, and you can feel the wear and tear of the years in the material. The scratches and indents weaved into every fiber. You unbuckle the lower end first and Sal tightens his hold on you, so you pause and press another kiss to his porcelain cheek.

When he nods, you continue, cupping the mask in one hand to steady it while you undo the upper buckle.

Sal would be statue-like if it weren't for the nervous tremors in his fingers. The mask loosens and its weight drops into your hand. His breath does not come through the slits anymore and you can feel it breeze through the fine hairs on your fingers.

He says nothing and neither do you. Still, you place one more kiss on the forehead of his prosthetic and lower it from view.

Sal has his eyes cast away, but he faces you. There's a large scar across the right side of his mouth, splitting his lips and exposing his teeth. There's a dent on the right side of his lower jaw that leaves his bone structure slightly unbalanced, and the cartilage of his nose is completely missing. The skin has healed, stretching his eye and tugging on the rest. It's pinkish still, never quite settling into the rest of his olive-toned skin, and Sal understands why it's jarring.

It's like peeling back the layers of what makes humans...humans.

The skin. The sight of his face makes people unnerved. Teeth and gums and muscles and the lack of a nose. One side of his face was a plain canvas and the other was a goddamn Jackson Pollock painting of horror.

Your touch on his bare skin shocks him. The pads of your fingers drag across his cheekbones. "Does it hurt?" You ask with your eyes lidded.

"No, no, it...it doesn't." You smile and your thumb rests just under his eyes, sweeping fondly while your palm holds his face preciously within your hand. There's a flush to his skin — it's not unusual with how the prosthetic held over his face nearly 24/7.

There's a feeling of nakedness that comes without the even pressure across his visage but your hands are an amazing substitute.

"You don't have to be nice," he says. "It takes a lot to get used to — "

"I know I can't completely convince you to not think of yourself as 'something to get used to' but you're not. Not to me." Sal's eye water and he wills himself to finally look at you.

There's a pinch to your brows, it makes your eyebrows cast this shadow across your eyes and highlight the colours of your eyes. You're frowning at his self-deprecation, though beyond that he can see you mean well.

"I would gladly sit on your face, Sal."

He scoffs, groaning as he slips away from your hand to toss his head back and flop right onto the couch again. "You're fuckin' impossible, (Y/N)," he mumbled as his hands covered his face. You place the prosthetic down on the makeshift coffee table near the couch and chuckle as you swing one leg over his hips and rest your crotch over his.

"What? I'm being honest here!" Bracing your weight on your elbows, Sal finds the comfort of your body across his similar to Gizmo's. "You're fucking beautiful," he squirms at that and you huff, nuzzling your face into his neck while he peeks from over his fingers.

"You don't have to say that," you huff once again. "I'm not saying that because I have to, I'm saying it because I want to. You're fucking beautiful, me being your boyfriend is just a coincidence."

He feels you shifting and instinctively, his hands rest on your hips and there he is again. You know you shouldn't stare, so you don't, but the shy glances at his face are less than secretive. His eyes are blue, cobalt almost, and his eyebrows are a darker shade of his hair. The shape of his eyes is rounded, with a deep crease and heavy eyelids just like his father's. Lifting your head, you gaze down at him and your hands are once again gingerly ghosting on his skin. This time, they're tracing his collarbones, feeling up the protruding muscle of his neck and halting at his jaw.

"Can I kiss you, baby?" He has a quirk. A lip twitch that he does when he's excited; you've been dating him for years and you're still finding out new things about your boyfriend. It makes your heart race and it only triples in speed when he nods. Hovering, the peak of your lips ghost his. He had always envied how you kiss his prosthetic. It was an extension of himself but he hated how badly he wanted to feel you on him.

They press to his and Sal slips his eyes closed. It's nothing more than a peck. Innocent, chaste. But then he's tightening his grip and pulling you in; tilting his head like he's always seen other people do and you're grinning into it. He knows because he can feel it.

He can feel it.

How your lips spread, the hint of teeth that slide over his bottom ones, and the crinkling of your nose that's brushing over his cheek.

"You taste so good, pretty boy," your words make his ears red. "I'm sure anything is better than kissing porcelain," he replies with a breathless tone, leaning forward again as if unwilling to part from you even if just to talk.

"No, don't disrespect yourself like that. What did we say about making those jokes." "Hah, I'll stop when you do."

Giggling, you're leaning in again. Sal wonders if kissing you is the only reason he's not completely in tears. The first time he'd accidentally showed Larry his face, he'd cried because Larry didn't look away from him. You taste tears on your lips and Sal curses softly as he tucks himself under your jaw, groaning. You shush him comfortingly, threading your fingers through his hair as he takes a few deep inhales.

"I love you." Those words are followed by more tears and you squeeze him again. "I love you, Sal," he nods against your — his — shirt. He can feel the grin you have from the crown of his head.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

Because you did. Sal was the man you wanted to be with until the Earth decided to throw in the towel; it didn't matter how buried your love for each other would be, because when your bones are dug up, or his guitar, or the treasure trove of things you've called yours; in the future, when you whisper to those archeologists: "Do you know?" they'd nod and reply, "We know you loved him."

Sal has never felt love like this. One that felt overwhelming at first, the same way entering a body would be for the first time in your life, but once he embraced the feeling? It was so...fulfilling.

How lucky was he?

Sal pulls away to cup your face and he leans in. You meet him halfway.

The feeling of your breath, your heart thudding against his own chest, the pulse beating under his thumb as he holds your neck — Sal isn't sure if he'd ever get into heaven but he doubts it ever compares to you.

His jaw moves and your lips part as you press closer. Fuck, kissing him felt like drinking in sunlight. There's a freedom that follows it, leaves you floaty and blissful.

"I love you," he replies between the friction, teeth biting down on your lower lip if only to hear if you'd gasp. You do.

"I love you so fuckin' much, (Y/N)." There's a feverish desperation in his words. But it makes your heart swell. There's no doubt in his eye, nothing but the truth and the truth is he'd worship you.

You're kissing again. Eager to show him the explosions he sets off within you. Between desperate lip locking and messy tangles of tongues, his hands move down and up your — his —shirt.

Squeezing your sides as he drags his digits across your skin. It spreads fire across your planes, has your already uneven breath shuddering as he memorizes the shape of your body again.

There's a growing hardness between his legs. You can feel it — twitching below your crotch as he tilts his head and tastes the lust that perspires from your neck.

He's greedy with his mouth. How could he not be? Sal has been wanting to taste you the second he realised how badly he wished you were his.

"Fuck, Sal." You groan, chewing on your lower lip as he experiments with this unmarked territory. His tongue is warm, his teeth brushes over pumping arteries with an air of amusement; when he finds the sweet spot? The spot where your breath hitched as he kissed it?

Sal makes your blood vessels explode. It isn't enough that the hairs on your neck stand in attention because of him, or how your blood rushes to your head when he so much as looks your way. He's determined to show you he can worship you in more ways than one.

You're gripping onto his shirt and your hips grind down. The moan he lets out makes your cunt wetter than before.

"I need you," you tell him as he sinks his teeth in. Just to test it out, to see if you'd like it. You do. His back feels cold as you lift his shirt but he grips at your wrist, panting as he moves his head away so you can see him.

"Can I...Can I keep it on?" He already felt a touch too exposed. You nod, reassuring him with a chaste peck.

"I'm gonna take of my shirt. You've made me all warm," he smiles a bit too smugly. He's handsome that way. When he gets a bit cocky — it's a sure fire way to make your head dizzy with desire.

"My shirt," he mumbles.

But when your bare torso is revealed the sass is pushed away. Sal presses kisses on your chest, teasing your perk buds with his too-warm hands and relishing in the way you toss your head back when he takes one in his mouth.

"Sal, holy fuck." He kneads at your ass, making your hips move back and forth. Rocking your clothed cunt over his boner as he leaves hickeys and bitemarks.

Here is where I plant my love, he thinks as he feels your heart pound against your ribcage, here is proof that he's mine.

Your pants are pulled below your waist and Sal moves back, making you yelp at the loss of balance. One second you're over him and the next, you're both tumbling over the couch.

His hand cradles the back of your head, curling over you as much as he could when you crash. Thankfully, none of you knocked into the coffee table but the adrenaline of the short fall makes the both of you wide-eyed.

"Holy fuck!" You laugh breathlessly. He scans you for any injury but soon follows suit. "You okay?" His hair curtains your face from view as he descends to claim your lips again.

"I'm peachy, baby." Sal grunts as you tug at the waist band of his pants. "Don't stop..." and how could he say no to you when you look up at him like that?

Your hands invade underneath his shirt and Sal moans as you press your fingers lightly into his back, kneading at the tense muscles. "M'not gonna take it off. Just wanna feel you," you assure as you reach his shoulder blades. God, the feeling of your hands on his body made him feel so Holy.

Ironic in the grand scheme of things but it's not like Sal gave a damn.

It's your turn to mark him up. He often already is. But this time your lips latch onto the obvious places. Lifting yourself to sit, Sal is suddenly at your mercy as you lovingly bruise him up with your mouth.

Sal lifts himself off your crotch a bit, panting and moaning at your ministrations, and slips his hand down your pants. Your breath stutters as your boyfriend touches your core.

"Sal," you plead. "I know, baby. I know," Sal frowns when you whine. "What? What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"You're just..." You're breathing heavily as you stare up at him, nails lightly digging into his skin as your dick twitches against his palm.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Sal."

That catches him completely off-guard. He hates how tears immediately burn at his waterline but regret doesn't come when they travel down his cheek. You're kissing him and the self-depriciation doesn't once rise. That snivelling, hissing, voice of doubt remains mute as you hold him.

"So fucking pretty," he slips his finger in as if attempting to distract you with pleasure. It makes you keen but you continue to sing praises for him as he pumps his digits in and out of you.

It's hard to move when you curl your arms over his back, hands peeking from the stretched out collar of his shirt. Forehead once again pressed to his.

"I can't — "

"You're all mine. My pretty boy is all mine." Blood should not rush so quickly to one's head. His chest is dusted in red, his shoulders, his ear, the apples of his cheek —

"You feel so good, Sal."

You allow him to push you back, splaying out onto the floor with your eyes lidded in want as he looked at you.

"...Shit, you're making my brain go all stupid," he grumbles — it sounds more like a whine. You lift your hips as he tugs your pants down and off. Sal gets between your legs and for a moment you think he's about to just slide in — which causes you a bit of concern considering how much meat he's packing between his legs — but then he lays on his stomach and your cock peeks straight up.

"I've watched a few pornos," he says with a grimace, "but — "

"I can guide you, Sal." He's looking up at you with those doe eyes and you chuckle as you brush some of his hair back. "You made me cum from grinding on your goddamn leg before. You've got this, Sex Grandmaster Sal."

"Really don't think mentioning Larry's marijuana induced rambling is setting the mood, babe," your giggle smooths out the furrowed brows he had. "Sorry, sorry."

Your cunt is making his mouth water. Sal presses his thumb on your cock and the sigh you let out eases his worries. His tongue on your dick has you inhaling deeply, slowly, back arching off the floor as he looks up at you.

He's overzealous but fuck does it make you wetter than you've ever been. Licking and sucking on your cock while he teases the opening of your cunt with his fingers. The hints of teeth makes your hips twist but he holds your hips down with muffled groans.

"Fuck, yes. You're doing so good, Sal. S'fuckin' good — holy shit, babe," the way your voice gets all pitchy makes him grin. Your slick on his tongue is making him want more, so he spreads your lips apart and sinks his tongue inside, it makes your grip onto his head, and Sal moans into you at the pinpricks of pain that follow.

Fingers accompanies his tongue and you're clamping your thighs around his head. It forces Sal's face into your cunt and the whole thing has him chuckling against you.

Pinning your thighs apart, Sal licks and swipes at the slick around his mouth and chin, catching his breath as he curses.

"Fucking Christ, does it feel that good?" You whine in retaliation. "You're the one going down on me of course I'm going fuckin' crazy. You get all whiny when I go down on you too — "

He curls a finger inside of you and you cut yourself off with a particularly loud moan. The floorboards above you creak and like a deer lifting its head as a branch snaps in the distance, another follows as whoever was in the living room heard the echoing cries of pleasure.

Sal slips another finger in and you cover your mouth, glaring at his handsome face petulantly. It falters as he stretches you out, thrusting in and out with a steady rhythm that he occasionally breaks to curl his fingers up.

You're groaning and curling your toes, eyelids fluttering and squeezing shut as he jerks you off with his other hand. Loosening his jaw, Sal uses his spit to lube you up further. He had a thing for sloppy sex. You once joked he enjoyed the slick-and-slide of it all and he didn't deny it then and probably won't ever.

"Nuh - no, don't wanna cum yet, I wanna cum with you, baby," he slows his rhythm, staring at you as you lift yourself onto your hands and taste yourself on his lips.

"Want you inside me. Please, Sal, I'm beggin'"

"You don't have to. I've got you." He nods when you hold onto the waist of his pants. Pulling it down to his knees and let his cock spring out into the air. Fuck, it's a pretty dick.

It's fat and heavy. Thicker than longer, the girth always makes your toes curl. It's a darker colour compared to the rest of his skin tone, the mushroom tip a warmer shade that burns when you tease him too much. You motion for the couch and he leans against it, whispering your name as you hover over his cock.

"Fuck, you're so hot," he says as you pump his dick with your fist while you line it up to your cunt. "You're pretty fucking hot yourself, big dick," he struggles not to laugh in your face, shaking his head in 'disapproval' that's short-lived.

You sink down on the tip of his cock and Sal moans out your name, squeezing your hips. You shiver for a moment, willing your insides not to clench so excitedly when you've still got some ways to go.

"Shit, (Y/N). You're so fuckin' tight." You could not agree more. The more you go down on him, the more you're tempted to just squeeze him like a vice. Sal brings your face down to kiss him, very quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of it. It's no wonder teenagers made out in the hallways all the damn time.

Gravity helps you the rest of the way. When he's all the way inside of you, you part your lips, the way your eyebrows slope being felt on Sal's forehead as you clench around him.

"Fuuuuck, Sal" you're whimpering his name, arms wrapped around his neck as you look at him. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby."

He swallows thickly, reaching to push your hair away from your face as he gazes up.

"I love you, so fuckin' much. I love you, Sal," you're determined to make him turn into nothing but mush. He's certain of it. His insides felt like a field of flowers, all blooming at once, even if it didn't sense at all. There's an airy moan that escapes him as you squeeze your inner thighs, your hips move forward and Sal grips you like he's afraid you're just a figment of his imagination.

"I know, baby," he whispers back. "I love you, more than you can imagine."

A dopey grin appears on your face. "You think you can show me how much you love me, handsome?" He smiles and your heart feels like it's going to stop.

"I can do more than show you, pretty boy."

He turns you over on your side, not once pulling out. You hastily grab some couch pillows for the both of you before your descent onto the floor. It's cold but that's all the more reason to hold onto each other.

Once your head is on a pillow and you're on your back again, he drapes over you.

Another kiss. Another mischievous nibble. A sly dance of tongues.

Sal is pulling out, the drag of his dick makes you whimper, and thrusts back home. The action has your nails leaving welts on his back but it just reinvigorates him.

He's splitting you open and filling you up. Every thrust makes you see stars. You're unwilling to let him go if the legs wrapped around his waist are saying anything.

But Sal is growing flustered the more praises you tell him.

"That's it, baby. Fuck this pussy, this pussy's just for you."

"Fuck, you look so good, baby. On top of me, fucking me, shit — !"

"Oh, God, your cock is — yeah, right there! — you're in so deep, Sal -Ah!"

You're so fucking filthy.

He wants to hide his face in your neck but he doesn't wanna take his eyes off you. Eyes trailing where his lips and teeth had been, eyeing the sheen of sweat on you and your messed up hair.

The shower you just took had been in vain, huh?

"Fuh - fuck, I'm close," he warns, bracing himself on his elbows as he hovers above you.

"Yeah? Me — mff! — too. Cum inside, baby. Need to feel you — fuuuuck — dripping outta' me," he chuckles breathlessly at your words.

His hips are stuttering and he can see the way your brows are furrowing, angelic moan after angelic moan being knocked out of you. He gives your cock a rub and the way your back arches off the floor makes him hold his own orgasm back just so he can see you like this as clearly as he can take it in.

"Sal, oh fuck, baby!"

"I've got you, (Y/N)."

He chokes out a groan as he feels you clamping down on him, your cunt gripping onto him like it never wants him to let go. You gasp as he snatches your breath, messily making out with him as the aftershocks of your orgasm are barrelled through thanks to Sal's deep thrusts.

"Shit, shit, shit," you smile as he begins to lose his rhythm. Ignoring how sensitive your boypussy feels as he chases his end. "C'mon, baby, fill me up. Yeah, that's it."

He cums with one final thrust. The warmth of it floods your insides, earning pleasant shivers from you as you moan out his name. He's riding his orgasm out, pushing in and out of you shallowly as he catches his breath above you.

"Jesus, fuck..." You giggle at his words, chest rising and falling in rapid motions as your heart tries to calm down.

"That was, Christ, that was — " "Fucking amazing?"

He nods, falling on top of you as carefully as he can. You embrace him, humming as he kisses your neck while you rub his back. The both of you catch your breath, satisfied expressions etched on your faces.

When Sal moves, your eyes are already closed. He pulls out and you whimper at the loss, ignoring the way he stares at his own jizz dripping out of your cunt in favor of gazing at his face.

"We gotta take a shower all over again," he says, helping you sit up and accepting the hug you give him when you're righted.

"...Wanna do it all over again in the shower?" Your question earns a throaty chuckle. "Thought it was implied in my statement."

Another beat of comfortable silence is shared. Sal sighs, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"Thank you, (Y/N)."

"I've got you, Sal."

#s3thwrit3sstuff #reader insert #male reader #male reader insert #gay reader #male!reader #ftm reader #trans reader #sally face x reader #sally face x male reader #sal fisher x reader #sal fisher x male reader

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yellow-berrys · 2 years

Text

sweet weeping soul | remus lupin x fem!reader

summary: your friends aren't really your friends, and remus lupin helps you realise that. a (hopefully realistic) tale of toxic friendship and how one escapes from it, into healthy relationships, both platonic and romantic. angst -> fluff

aka five times you cry in front of remus and one time he cries in front of you.

warnings: toxic platonic relationships, crying, sadness, envy, insecurity

navigation | masterlist

Remus Lupin makes you feel different, not yourself, per se. Around him, you become soft and reserved. It’s rare you have a conversation anyway— for you never really talk to him, or spend heaps of time around him. Lily is friends with him and you’re friends with Lily, so by extension he is your good friend too.

He is prettier than you and so kind, always with a cuddly quarter zip on or a fuzzy sweater. Sometimes he looks at you like he might kiss you, but you’ve seen him with other people and he looks at them the same, dark lashes nearly touching.

Remus has been told that he’s soft, all his life. There’s a steadiness gleaming from his kind honey-brown eyes, and a certain gentlemanly way to his neat strands of light brown hair. There’s gentle written all over him, and he always has a sweater on in the colder seasons. He always looks quiet, and he always is quiet, preferring to leave the talking to Sirius or James. Remus is everything consistent and everything mellow. A little mystery is woven into the way he does everything too. It makes him elusive, more interesting.

Mostly, he begs to differ. If you really get to know him, he swears like a sailor and is scarred like one too. His humour is snarky and sometimes crude. But he guesses that other people might be right, because he forgives too easily and loves too hard.

Especially as you’re alone at breakfast, sitting at your place down the table and playing with your food. You look a bit distraught, he thinks. Where’s Lily? And everyone else? You clatter down your fork because everything looks unappetising. Even the delicacies the house-elves prepare so painstakingly look dull and dreadful.

Remus notices your self-deprecating expression as a Slytherin girl passes by you and waves. She looks at you inquisitively and you respond with a small smile that is the furthest thing from genuine. She leaves with an arm hooked into her boyfriend’s, both looking worried for you. As she passes where Remus and the other Marauders are sitting, Remus can hear tid-bits of dialogue.

“Poor thing,” she says.

Remus decides you’re definitely not okay when even Sirius hums, “L/n isn’t looking too well today.”

You’re talking to Professor McGonagall now, a more amused smile on your face as you joke with her. But when she leaves you return to looking downtrodden and when you push your plate forward and start to get up from your seat, your eyes look empty. It’s when you hurry past him that he decides that he should go after you.

Fast taps against the tiles of the hallways alarm you. You turn and there’s Remus, long legs gaining mileage on you. He reaches you and you step to the side to let him go past. You’re confused when he stops before you. His eyes flicker down to yours and they’re filled with concern.

“Hey,” he breathes.

“Hi,” you smile politely and it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Remus hates it.

“I’m sorry if this comes off weird or creepy, but I couldn’t help but notice that you don’t look very happy,” he says quietly.

You laugh. Again, it doesn’t sound right. It sounds forced and stuffy, “It’s not weird and I’m fine.”

“Where are your friends?” he asks, gently.

You shrug. It’s heavy enough that Remus can tell that you care a lot.

“They’re all gone?”

“I heard them early in the morning,” you say, nodding slowly.

“Are you okay then?”

No. You had heard all the girls in the dorm giggling as they got ready at six in the morning, tippy-toeing around your bed. When you peeked an eye open, feigning slumber, Lily was wearing one of her date night dresses, a pretty sun-dress that was only used for picnics. Trixie from Hufflepuff was there, and so was Olive. You squeezed your eyes shut and when they were all gone you noticed the picnic basket was missing. Dread pooled in your stomach and you tried in all your might to believe that they went for a date or were going to come back up to invite you. You thudded down the stairs and asked a first year sitting by the portrait about them.

“They were talking about a big group date,” she swung her legs, “Something about a park.”

You had smiled, “Thanks.”

You look at Remus, “Yeah.” But your voice breaks embarrassingly midway and your tired, disappointed mood starts to wear through. It’s impossible to put up a front in front of Remus, who’s gazing at you in such a fret. But he’s Lily’s friend and Lily surely had her reasons to not invite you. After all, you have your problems. It makes sense that it’s probably your fault and Remus deserves not to know.

Remus tries to gauge the problem out of you- wheedle it and make it clear that he does care. Somewhere in your half-hearted smiles he’s developed a crush on you because he thinks your attempts to make him less worried are so sweet.

But you simply shake your head every time he wants to know what’s wrong and ignore that he’s very close and very handsome.

You set off to your dormitory, but realise that you don’t really want to be there. Remus can tell from the conflicted look in your face.

“I’ll sit with you in the common room and you can please, please tell me what’s wrong. I want to help.”

He says it so earnestly that you nod, “Okay.”

“I woke up this morning and they were all getting ready for something, with the hair curler and dresses. That means going out, usually. And Lily was wearing her picnic dress, the one with little flowers on it. I heard them giggling as they all went out and I thought maybe they’ll come back for me. But when I sat up there wasn’t anyone in their beds and the picnic basket was gone. I didn’t know what had happened so I went downstairs to ask this first-year and she said they were going on a group trip, plus James.

“I feel so left out,” your bottom lip wobbles, “Because if this was a one time thing, I wouldn’t feel so bad, but they do this all the time. And I’m tired of constantly trying to join them when they haven’t even invited me in the first place. Every time they hang out they never think of me. I mean, they invited Trixie and Olive, and I wish I could say I’m closer to them than Trixie and Olive but I don’t think that’s true anymore. Every time. I’m sick of trying to take the initiative to make plans, and if I don’t they never think about me.

“In the holidays, they all went out to see this movie, and I get it, they all live near each other but they invited Hannah from Slytherin and not a word to me,” Remus’ heart pangs a little bit hearing your trembling tone, “It was only when I wrote to them asking if they wanted to see it with me that Lily said she had already seen it and so had Mary and Dorcas and everyone else. Okay, I accepted it, I did, and said we could go to the art gallery but no one replied.

“I tie my shoelaces and they never wait for me, but when they tie their shoelaces suddenly I have to be there, no matter what. And I can’t ever hang out with two of them because the others feel ostracised, even though they always leave me out. Lily gives me strange looks when I chat to Dorcas for more than 3 minutes straight. Once we were talking about volunteering for a charity and she looked back at me as if I was neglecting her, accusatorily. I wasn’t going to volunteer with Dorcas anyway, she lives in the Highlands. But then she can go and wrap gifts with Mary at the mall and not invite me,” your voice wavers.

“I know it’s small, but it hurts so much. The worst thing is that I’m the problem here. There has to be a reason why they never invite me and I don’t know what it is. I try to be a perfect friend and I always wait for them when they pack their bags at Potions even if everyone else is leaving. I don’t get it and it’s bothering me,” you cry out, eyes watering.

Remus wants to cry too seeing you cry, “Oh, darling.”

“I don’t understand what is wrong with me,” you despair, “I might not be the prettiest thing in the world, but I try,” voice cracking.

He needs to have a word with Lily, he thinks.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, gorgeous,” he murmurs, “Don’t blame yourself.”

“But there is. They’re really nice people, why can’t I see it?”

“Maybe they’re not nice people,” he offers.

“Don’t say that,” you whisper, “Lily’s dating James. Mary’s dating Peter. Dorcas is in your bookclub.”

“Well, love, they’re not very nice to you. And no she’s not, far from it actually, no he’s not, they split, and no, she left.”

“Guess I need a life update then.”

“Why don’t you talk to them about it?”

You murmur, “I hate confrontation and why would they change just because I told them to? I’m scared, Rem.”

“I get it, beautiful. You can sit with me and Peter and James and Sirius and Marlene and Queenie and Jolene at lunchtimes and whenever you want.”

He’s so good, he doesn’t ask any questions or push you. Your teary eyes gaze up at him in wonder and admiration and no one’s ever looked at him like you do now. Here he goes again, loving too hard.

“Really? I wouldn’t be intruding?”

“Never, lovely.”

You surge and hug him, which catches him by surprise but he melts into it. It’s the nicest hug he’s been given, ever. He doesn’t get many as a guy, and usually they’re half-hearted and rough, but yours is grateful and warm. He’s all red and flustered after it but he doesn’t think you notice and you don’t.

“We’re about to head to Hogsmeade, you wanna join us?”

You think about it, “After I get these tears off my face.” You hurry up the stairs before he can say a word.

“Nice going, Moons,” Sirius barges in from wherever he was hiding in the first place, hair slightly dishevelled, “You got some chocolate? I didn’t finish breakfast trying to stealthily tail you both up the stairs.”

“He is just so delicious,” Mary sighs. You laugh, “Who, Peter?”

“Oh not Peter. Remus Lupin.”

You smile. Delicious.

“Pfft, Peter. I only dated him to get closer to Remus.”

Your smile turns into something that’s unsettled, but she’s too busy ‘ooh’ing and ‘ahh’ing over his “washboard abs” to see you, even though he’s got an ungodly amount of layers on.

“Speaking of, I think I have a crush on him!” she squeals and you smile again, kind of creeped out by her behaviour. You’re sure you’re just too sensitive about these things, “Will you introduce me?”

“Sure,” you lead her to where Remus is reading the paper. He looks up and he doesn’t give anything away. He's a mystery when he’s not too busy being soft. In reality, he can feel his heart start to speed up and his cheeks warm.

“Hey, he’s blushing,” Mary whispers. Although it’s loud, Remus can hear it and feels self-conscious.

You whisper back, “Shhh, I’m sure he’s not. Hi Remus.”

Remus nods at you, “Morning.”

“Oh he says morning, what a cutie,” Mary giggles and you giggle too, though Remus hears the strain your voice is in.

“Remus, meet Mary Macdonald. She’s my friend. Mary, meet Remus.”

Hm. Remus thinks, remembering to be polite. He should give her the benefit of the doubt. He extends a hand, “Hello Mary.”

You watch their interaction, spiking a little bit of disappointment in you. Is it at Mary paying more attention to Remus than you (and rightly so, you think. If you were that pretty you’d have people clawing at your feet too.) or because Remus might like Mary?

You miss how Mary looks at Remus hungrily. He swallows, uncomfortable, looking towards you and grimacing. You nod, a minute dip of your head, and carefully pry Mary away from him.

“C’mon Mary, you promised to drop me off at my class.”

She studies her nails, “Actually, I need to go to the bathroom. You think you’d be okay with going alone?”

It’s not really a question, and your face falls. You walk alone. Remus has just witnessed Mary lying, because instead of turning three halls down to the left and turning to the right one hall down, she begins to flirt with him. It sours his opinion of her.

“You free this Saturday?”

He shakes his head, “Nope.”

“Next Saturday?”

“Nah.”

She sighs, “Handsome, let’s not play hard to get.”

He shrugs, “I’m not.”

“Why won’t you?”

Remus isn’t brutal enough to tell her the real truth, which is that he hasn’t heard good things about her. So he says, “I’m not interested and you dated my friend and broke his heart,” which is pretty accurate in itself.

“Enigmatic.”

He sighs, returning to his paper.

A few hours later, you’re confronted with an awful truth as Remus sits peacefully opposite you reading a book. He’s in pure bliss as his eyes skim the page and his fingertips brush the edges of the paper. His hair flops in front of his eyes and you resist the urge to touch it. There’s a little smile on his lips.

You like Remus a lot, and you can’t, because Mary likes him. It feels forbidden, and you can’t imagine how Mary would react. Friends didn’t like other friends’ crushes, they stayed a comfortable distance away from them. Rule 2 in the book. And Mary brings it up at night.

“Say, Y/n, would you mind not being so close to Remus?”

You’re finishing up a Transfiguration essay and look at her, caught off guard.

“I’m not actually that close with him,” you laugh, “At least not romantically.”

She narrows her eyes, “Yeah, I know that. As if he would ever be romantic.” with you, she means.

You’re silent, ignoring her dig at you. This is a critical part of how to be a good friend. You don’t want to ruin Mary’s ventures with Remus but you really like him, both platonically and romantically.

“Could you back off? I know you both are friends and whatever but I need this.”

You chew on your lip. It’s a shame, because you did like him and Peter and Sirius and James and Marlene and Jolene and Queenie. You still want to be friends with him. But Mary has a jealous streak and you’ve seen the girls who she’s left torn and beaten.

“I don’t think I’ll ruin your chances, Mary.”

“Neither do I,” she says harshly.

You’re struck by her sudden tone. It’s curt, snappy and it’s loud. It hurts. You immediately find the tears swarm in your eyes. So you startle, “I forgot, I need to go find Marlene to get some advice on the essay.”

“Since when have you known Marlene Mckinnon?”

You leave, tears flowing as you furiously wipe them away. Remus is downstairs with Sirius, and Sirius is begging for chocolate for some reason. You catch his eye. He immediately calls to you, but you pretend to not hear. You can’t hang out with him anymore. You hurry down to the Prefect bathroom. It’s always empty there.

You sit down by the bath, pacing out your breaths. Soon you calm down, and when you have the energy to look around you, you see Remus leaning against the door. There’s a crease between his brow.

“Rem, I can’t be near you much anymore,” you blink at him, “This won’t be a surprise to you but Mary really likes you. I don’t want her to be uncomfortable, or think I’m trying to steal you from her.”

Remus’ frown only deepens, as you refuse to meet his eyes. He hooks his fingers under your chin and lifts your head up.

“Aren’t you?” he grins. He thinks if he’s going to want you he might as well want you right.

You bring your hands to his and you gently take them away, patting his hand, “Don’t. Even if I’m friends with you, it’s too friendly for Mary.”

“Honey, you don’t need to do what Mary says.”

“It’s not what Mary says. It’s Rule 2 in the book.”

He laughs, “Rule 2 in the book. And what’s Rule 1?”

“Never leave your girls hanging for boys. I feel like I’ve betrayed her.”

“Well, you can always hang with the others, right?”

You nod, “We’ll see. I’ll see you around?”

His eyes are filled with something unreadable and mysterious. He wants to be with you, so badly, he wants imploringly to show you what you mean to him. But he nods, he understands, and pecks you on the cheek. “Remus!” you admonish. He’s smirking away, the last you see of him is the imprints of a shy smile, latent and alluring.

You smile, feeling bitter as you tell Mary, “I’ll leave Lupin alone, Mary.”

She flickers her eyes up at you, “I didn’t think you weren’t going to.” She looks bored, and you feel nothing but disappointment.

“Wait up, Lily!” You call. You wish you didn’t need to, but you guess that you’re forgettable.

She stops, a little disgruntled.

“What’s got you so excited for today?” You ask her, slinging your bag over your shoulder.

“Well, certainly not Potter going to ask me out and me to reject him. He hasn’t in a while, so that’s been a relief.”

You laugh, “Are you missing it?”

“Never.”

“Don’t you think rejecting him that harshly is a little sad?”

It’s true. He’s nothing but nice in his advances. All he does is give her flowers, most of the time he doesn’t say anything but frown when Lily pushes the flowers roughly back into his grasp, and leaves disappointedly. He’s been doing this for only a little while, and he looks less and less infatuated with Lily each time. Once she turned to you smugly, and you raised your eyebrows.

“Must be nice having no guys pestering you for attention,” she had told you.

You had cheerfully agreed with her, but inside you were heartbroken.

Lily enters the hall, an expectant look on her face. Instead of James waiting by the big door, he’s eating, no flowers or chocolates in sight. Remus turns and gives you the tiniest smile. You give him a sympathetic one.

“Huh. No flowers.”

You stay quiet. If you say something, it’ll come out berating or pathetic to Lily. Maybe if she didn’t always brutally dismiss him or flame him to no ends, he might continue, but isn’t this what she wanted?

You talk to Queenie, who pouts, “Can’t tell you, sorry Y/n.”

You’ve seen James with Regulus, the latter denying his love though not like Lily had. It’s accepted and Regulus returns the affections, though in his own cold way. James looks happy whenever he’s with Regulus.

Lily calls to James, “Potter, I didn’t see you water the plants today.”

James shrugs, “Okay, Evans. They’re watered. I got someone to do it. Someone much more competent than me.”

At that he winks at Regulus, who goes red and smiles tenderly. Sirius rolls his eyes, whispering to James, “Oi, eyes off my brother or you won’t have eyes at all tomorrow.”

Lily’s curt all day long, and snippy. You don’t dare to say a word to her and tippy toe endlessly after she scowls at you for asking if she wants some hot chocolate.

At the end of the day when you’ve come back with accompanying Dorcas to the Potions storeroom and three of the girls come surging, whisking Lily away but never offering you with the same warmth. At the end, you quietly slip away from the group. You have this harrowing feeling you don’t actually belong with them. No one notices and you press your lips together.

“Girl’s night!!” Dorcas yells.

There’s only a little more to go till you graduate and you’re officially able to leave the dormitory. Maybe they aren’t so good for you. You just wish you could be included more, cherished. What if I don’t deserve to be cherished? The question swirls in your mind, distressing you. When you bump into Marlene near the quidditch field, trucking down from practice, she sets down her broomstick and takes off her gloves.

“Don’t see you here often, darl,” she sits next to you, “You’re in the firing zone of Sirius’ wild bludgers, by the way.”

Sirius is hovering above, hitting bludgers fiercely. One zooms past your shoulder, only because Marlene nudges her broomstick to the bludger. You barely flinch.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

You look at her, “Yeah, I’m good. Just wanted to get some fresh air.”

“At 8 in the night? Where are your friends?”

You feel so vulnerable right now. “I’m- I’m with you. You’re my friend.”

“I know. Okay,” Marlene thinks for a second, “Where are your dorm mates?”

You sob, “They’re having a girl’s night.”

“Without you?”

“I…” To be truthful, you don’t know where you are with your friends. It makes you even more emotional. You feel tears well up in your eyes. Marlene makes a strained noise and you see she’s crying too.

“Oh, don’t make me cry too,” she sobs, “I can’t handle emotions.”

Sirius notices, and nearly gets taken over by a bludger. “Moony,” he shouts, “We’ve got a problem.”

“We’ve or you’ve?” Remus asks dryly from the sidelines.

“You’ve. Not I’ve but you’ve,” Sirius points to where both you and Marlene are sobbing together.

“I’m only one man, there are two of them,” Remus looks at Sirius meaningfully.

“Fine.”

“Which one do you want?”

“Marlene.”

Sirius flies over to Marlene, mounting his broomstick.

“Marlene, you good?” He crouches down on the grass.

She glares at him, tearily, “Do I look okay to you, Black?”

“Right, well, why are you sad?” Sirius has the tact of a three year old although Marlene’s too busy crying to care.

Marlene points at you, “She’s sad, so I’m sad.”

Sirius hops up, and pats the incoming Remus on the back. “They’re all yours, Buster.”

Remus sits down next to you, “You know, there’s a cloud over there that looks like James.”

It really doesn’t, it’s night and you can’t see much. But it makes you huff a laugh out. Remus relaxes. Marlene stops crying.

“It’s pitch black, idiot,” she grins.

He smiles boyishly.

“Marlene?” you peek up at her, still halfway to dry eyes.

“Mm?”

“Can I stay at your dorm for the night? I don’t really feel like going back to mine.”

“Sure. Okay, I need a shower. I can’t be hugging you all stinky and sweaty.”

“You smell great,” you smile at her.

“Thanks.”

“No problemo.”

You turn to Remus, “Shuffle over some ten centimetres please. For Mary.”

“Mary’s having a girl’s night without you, sweet thing, does she really matter?” Remus moves nonetheless.

“Yeah,” you hiccup, “I want to be a good friend.”

He doesn’t question you and leaves it at that.

Marlene comes out, drying her hair with a towel.

“Are we good to go?”

“Yeah!”

“C’mon.”

You look back, “Bye Remus!”

He’s smiling so softly your heart thuds. It’s the prettiest smile you’ve ever seen. You wonder what he’s thinking about.

He’s thinking about you. Sweet weeping soul.

The scene’s set. It’s a sweeping plain overlooking the rest of Hogwarts, symbolic and gradual. This is where you’ll graduate. It’s bitter, but you’re mostly ready to move on from school. Of course, you’ll miss days spent with fellow students and the teachers, and the school grounds where you spent so much time laughing and loving, but you think you’re okay with going solo. You haven’t worked out where you’ll be staying, there’s still ten weeks left in the school year where seventh years hang around aimlessly and try to soak up as much of Hogwarts as they can. But you know if you don’t find a place to stay, you can always bunk with your parents.

You already find yourself shedding tears, as you go up to give a speech. After the procession, McGonagall calls you over.

“Oh darling,” she cries, mascara muddied from her watery eyes, “I’ll miss you so much. Thank you for being such a good student. Have you got a place to stay? A job? I’ll always be open to giving you the Transfiguration professor role so I can focus on being Deputy Headmaster.”

You laugh, “Professor-”

“Please, we’re both adults now. Minerva, or Minnie, or Mins, or Nerve.”

“Nerve?!”

“Sirius Black does have some calling me that.”

Both of you let out watery chuckles.

“Minnie, thank you so much for being my Professor,” you wipe the corner of your eye, “Oh I have to do this eleven more times. You know, I’ve learnt so much from you and you’re just a dear. I can’t believe I’m leaving this place, forever. Not yet, and yes, I applied for a position in the Ministry.”

“Don’t forget Hogwarts. Please visit, weekly.”

“I will, and I won’t forget about that Transfiguration job.”

“Please, remember it, you always had a competence for most things you did. Even Magical Music, which I remember you saying you hated, despised, loathed, and were terrible at, but Professor Quavers thought you were a very capable student.”

“Minnie,” you weep into her shoulder, hugging her, “Please remember me.”

“I couldn’t ever forget you,” she leans to whisper, “You are one of my favourite students.”

It makes you cry even harder. In the end, you take a picture with her and exchange emails, phone lines, addresses. She hands you an envelope, which later you learn encloses automatic recommendation letters and some gift cards.

This is done eleven times more, teachers bestowing you with gifts and promises of communication. By the end, your hands are full and you put the things in your bag by your chair, going to join Lily, Dorcas, Mary, Alice in taking photos. Mary’s voice shouts, “I still like Remus Lupin!”

“Cheers to the new apartment!” Dorcas’ father says, “What beautiful girls.”

You freeze. They had an apartment planned and ready? Maybe you’re ready to leave your friends. You turn away, crying more when you see Queenie.

She beckons you over, “Come take photos with us.”

You smile. Everyone huddles close. Remus is beside you, all wily and eyes sparkling with tears. “You alright, darling?”

“I’ll miss you, Rem. You know I haven’t really gotten to talk to you much, but you’ve been nothing but wonderful to me.”

“Ask her!” Jolene hisses.

“Right, so, I, we, the guys and the girls, are going to rent apartments with each other. Do you want to join us?”

You’re starstruck. You start crying in his arms, and he looks very concerned.

“I’m sorry, I just can’t keep them in. Of course I want to join you, you guys are amazing.”

“Sweetness…” he wipes your eyes with a handkerchief he has yet to use.

“Remus, Mary, remember? She still likes you. I know you’re only doing this as friends and she does too, but she doesn’t like people hanging around…” you meet his eyes.

He looks at you again in that unreadable way and you don’t know what to do. Sirius is quietly taking pictures of you two with his expensive camera. He likes the way Remus looks at you and the way you don’t seem to know what it means. Fine photography. Would make an excellent engagement gift. I'm so smart. He flips the camera. And so handsome.

"Get a load of you," James scoffs.

You haven’t watched Mean Girls yet. Queenie finds that astounding, and so everyone must attend the movie marathon she holds. You hang your coat up on the rack, stepping out of your shoes and sighing.

“How was work?” Marlene asks.

“That question makes me feel so old,” you huff, cracking your joints, “It was so-so. Marcus tried to harass Heron into getting Jerome out of the project that he and Heather are working on.”

“Oh really. That mother-”

“Evening!” Sirius barges into the apartment, wearing his suit, “Did you know, Marcus was-”

“Harassing Heron into getting Jerome out of the project that he and Heather are working on,” you finish, “How does the public relations sector know that?”

“We do have excellent public relations.”

“Where’s James?”

“He’s picking up Regulus.”

“Awh,” you coo.

“I wish James had a sibling so I could date them too,” Sirius grouches.

“Don’t be like that, Pads,” Peter strides to the fridge, kissing Jolene on the cheek and grabbing a can of kombucha, “They’re so good together.”

“Good my a-”

“Language!” Marlene calls.

Someone knocks on the door. You open it and Remus is standing, stretching. A little strip of skin shows as his shirt lifts. His top button is undone and he looks tired. But he still looks at you the same, red on his cheeks and red lips turning up. I can’t be loving him like this, you think, it’s overwhelming.

“Hey,” you open the door.

He smiles at you, “Doing well, honey?” He doesn’t say much at all, but when he does it’s always followed by a “beautiful” or “pretty” or “doll”.

A chorus of greetings come from around the television. He nods, turning back to you, “I gave exams back today. Talked my quota full.”

Beaming at him, you hand him a bowl of popcorn, “We’re fine with it. You speak as much as you want.”

He smiles at you again. He’s doing a lot of that. But then again, he’s always like this when he’s tired. At a bar, he’ll be tilting his head, smiling at you through fatigued eyes, begging James to go home. When he’s up grading papers, he’ll be smiling at you, the same melting eyes and lashes nearly touching. And you always say, “How much of your soul did you trade to the devil for those lashes?”

He never gets it, and he says, “Comes with the beard I need to shave off every morning.”

You’re snapped back by a slamming of the door as James comes in with Regulus.

He’s right– he doesn’t talk much, just sitting back on the sofa, observing and listening. He watches you most of the time, and he sees when you’re about to cry. Your breathing gets unsteady and eyes start finding anything else to look at. You tremble as you reach for popcorn, and excuse yourself multiple times, and you manage to stop crying mostly. None of your friends notice much, too busy yelling at the screen, but he does.

You start bawling when Regina’s influence over the rest of the girls vanishes, and Remus immediately turns to you, leading you across the hall.

“I’m so sorry,” you ramble, “Why is it that I’m always crying when I see you?”

Remus doesn’t mind– he likes that you feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable around him.

“It’s just that– that movie reminded me so much of my old friends and it’s all too overwhelming thinking about them. I mean, they haven’t called, I don’t know where they live and I’m so grateful but also I feel so bad about it.”

“Hey, it’s okay. They didn’t deserve you.”

“I know, but the movie hit so close to home, Rem. I’m so glad to have you.”

Remus pretends that by ‘you’, you mean him, knowing it means the whole group of them.

You sob quietly, bundling his shirt into your hands. He lets you, and he’s quiet about it. You’re a sweet weeping soul, rendered that by your ex-friends. But he wants you so much.

“Good news,” you announce, going into Remus’ apartment to recite to him what you had just read in your weekly mail, “McGonagall got a dog, his name is Hubert and he’s a border collie. Also, Mary has a boyfriend.”

You had had to write to Mary to tell her you were moving across the corridor from Remus. She hadn’t replied. None of your friends had bothered to ask where you would stay. You had decided those friendships were over. Still, you kept a friendly distance from Remus. You had only known she’s gotten a boyfriend when the boy himself wrote to you asking you for your blessing. You had written back, telling him that you and Mary were no longer friends, but nonetheless that you wished them well. It was a sign that you were truly over it.

You’re searching through his apartment, when you hear quiet sniffles coming from his room. You knock, then enter. Your heart aches as you see Remus leaning against the wall, crying.

“Rem…”

“Go away,” he mutters, muffled.

“Remus.”

“Oh.” he doesn’t lift his head to look at you. You sit next to him on the floor.

“What happened?”

“I like this girl.”

You try to fight your own disappointment back, and smile, though it’s warped.

“Yeah?”

“There’s no way in hell she likes me back. I mean I’ve done everything to show her I do. I’ve called her pet names, tried to be charming, hell, I’ve even flirted.”

The disappointment is winning.

“And I get it, because I’m all gnarly. But it hurts.”��

He continues, “And she’s…perfect. Like, really beautiful. She’s kind, so charming, so empathetic and she has the prettiest smile.”

You pretend you’re glad for him. You’re really not. You want to leave, maybe he’ll stop talking about her. But you still listen, because you do care. As much as it hurts you to know he likes another girl, it also hurts you to know he’s sad. Lovely, caring Remus, with his shyness and comfortable silences.

“She’s really everything to me, and I don’t think I’m much to her.”

“Don’t say things like that, Remus,” you begin, “You’re a great guy, and any girl would be lucky to have you, especially her.” The words don’t sit quite right, they feel sour on your tongue.

“I’m not good enough for her.”

The words crush you, and you frown.

“Hey!” you snap, “Remus John Lupin, you are so good, and so kind. I can’t bear to hear you badmouth yourself like this. You are not gnarly. I think you're charming. Love yourself for me, Remus, please.”

He looks at you, eyes swarming with that emotion.

“Thank you, darling.”

–

Remus catches you by surprise when he’s standing by your desk.

“What are you doing here, Remus?”

“Good evening, fine sir! How are you doing? I’m well, thank you!”

“No, seriously,” you cross your arms, “This is the intelligence department. How did you get in here?”

“Let’s just say, your boss is a 60 year old woman, and I sure know my way around them from playing bingo with my grandmother and her friends every Saturday.”

“Glad to see you’re feeling better.” And he looks better too, creases gone from under his eyes, which are now blinking endearingly at you. He had told himself he would tell you, and that would be it. Queenie tells him that you do like him, but he can’t believe her. He’s tapping his foot nervously.

“I am. When will you be off work?”

“I just have to send this email and I’ll be done.”

“Great!” He pulls out a book and starts reading. You finish your email, click send, shut off your computer and reorganise the files on your desk. You put on your coat, and put your bag on.

“Ready to go, sweetheart?” he asks.

"Yep.”

“Lovely, we’re going to take a stroll around the block. It’s a…thanks for the other day.”

You smile, “You’re more than welcome.”

You pass by a flower shop. He stops, “Hey, I want to get a present for you know- her.”

You feel your heart pang, “Yeah, sure," and then follows the obligatory, "Need some help?”

“Obviously.”

You step in and the bells jingle. A friendly shop attendant pokes her head from where she’s cutting roses.

“Hi Remus,” she grins at him, wiggling her eyebrows and he blushes, “And you are?”

You smile, “I’m Y/n.”

“Petunia Evans.”

“Lily?”

“Yes. Are you his girlfriend?”

You laugh, you’re flattered that anyone would ever think you’re his girlfriend, “Oh, I’m not his girlfriend. We’re actually here to find Remus’ crush a present! I’m Y/n,” you shake her hand.

“His crush, you say?”

“Yeah, his crush! By the way, I’ll tell you my favourite flower, can you psychoanalyse me?”

She giggles, “Okay!”

You whisper it in her ear and she starts a long tale of surprisingly accurate details of your life.

“Damn, you’re good.”

“Thanks. Remus, is there anything you’re looking for in particular? For this crush?”

Remus blushes.

You go to inspect the flowers at the front to hopefully get cheered up by the bees and the butterflies that touch down on little sprigs of pollen. You won’t revert to the sweet weeping soul that they made you. Remus buys some flowers and sets them down on the counter.

Petunia takes her dinner break and slips out of the building quietly. You’re admiring the little glass panes on the wall which let the right amount of light through, walking backwards and around the room. Remus is wondering when he should do it, turning uncertainly and walking towards you. You turn quickly too, “Remus, look at the ceil-”

You crash into him. He catches you, flowers in one hand, you in the other. You’re very close to him– he smells like a forest and chocolate. His eyes flicker to yours and there’s the expression again.

“Sorry,” you smile, stepping away. He doesn’t let go of you, instead pulling you closer. You look up to him with wide eyes and he’s so red all of a sudden. He brings the flowers to cover his face.

“These are for you,” he murmurs.

“Awh, but you really didn’t need to,” you grin, bringing the flowers up to your nose, “I offer my services for free!” They are so nice, and he's so nice.

“Services?”

“You know, helping you pick out the flowers and all.”

He sighs, “Darling, I don’t know how else to say this, but, I want you. I don’t have a crush, you’re my crush, I just never had the guts to say it. I want you by my side, all the time. It was hell on earth trying to stay away from you all these years because of Mary. I don’t know if you even like me, but I really, really like you, maybe even love you.”

You open your mouth, then shut it, eyes wide with sparkling, “I like you too.”

“Really? Because you don’t need to say it back just because you’re nice, I’m a lot of things but I don’t know if handsome or boyfriend material is one of them.”

“Rem, I adore you. You are so pretty and you always are comfortable when I’m crying and upset and raging.”

“Can we try this out then?”

“Of course we can. I’d do anything for you, Remus Lupin.”

“And I promise I’ll never make you a sweet weeping soul.”

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bruisedboys · 2 years

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i need james or remus w a shy reader 🙏🙏 maybe where they are shopping and she forgot her purse but doesn’t want to spend his money

love love love this idea, tysm anon!! first remus blurb omg

fem!reader 0.7k words

Remus waits in the shoe section for you while you try on your clothes in the dressing rooms. You hadn’t told him to, but he could tell you felt shy about him seeing you in new clothes. So he’d given you your space while you tried them on.

Now, you’re smiling shyly as you approach him, your arms laden with clothes.

“How’d it go?” He asks as you come to a stop two steps too far away from him. Remus closes the gap. Your smile goes from shy to shyer.

“It went okay,” you say quietly, rearranging the pile of clothes in your arms. “The pink dress looked weird. But I really liked the blue one.”

Remus beams. He’d picked out the blue one. He feels very proud of himself. “Yeah? And the top?”

You nod and lift your eyes to his. You’re too pretty for the store’s harsh white lighting, Remus thinks. Too soft.

“That was good, too,” you say. “The colours are nice.”

“Awesome,” he says. He reaches out and takes the pink dress from you. It’s quite short, he notices, and would probably show a lot more leg than you’re used to. Maybe that’s why you don’t like it. “You sure you didn’t like this one? I think it’s nice.”

You shake your head. “Nah, not my style.”

Remus shrugs and hangs the dress over his elbow. “Okay. That’s okay, dove. I’ll put it back, if you want. And you’re definitely getting those two?”

He points to the two remaining pieces in your arms, a flowery top that suits your skin tone and the pale blue dress he’d seen and made a beeline for earlier. They’re both very pretty, and Remus can’t wait to see you wear them.

You nod happily. Remus thinks maybe he should come clothes shopping with you more often, if you’re gonna be this adorable every time. He’s been missing out.

Remus sets off to return the pink dress to its place. It only takes a minute or two, but when he returns you’re not waiting in the checkout line like he thought you’d be. You’re standing just shy of the line, looking distraught. Remus feels a rush of panic like a stab to his heart.

“Dove?” He approaches you quickly, his hand quick to clasp around your elbow. “Are you okay?”

You look up at him and your face crumples. “I’ve forgotten my wallet,” you say, your tone far too close to self-deprecating for his liking.

Remus relaxes. From the look on your face he’d thought it was something much worse than that. Still, he squeezes your elbow because you do look very sad.

“Oh, that’s okay.” He drags his hand down your forearm and curls his fingers around your wrist. “I’ll pay, bub.”

You somehow manage to look even more distraught than a second ago.

“No,” you say desperately, shaking your head so fast Remus is scared you’ll get a headache. “You don’t have to do that, Remus. I just won’t get them.”

You make to turn away but Remus snags your wrist, pulling you back into him. You go from startled to shy in a matter of seconds.

“Y/N,” he says, patient but firm. He’d seen how excited you were about the clothes and can’t bear to let you put them back. “Don’t be silly. I’ll pay.”

You look helpless and a bit like a lost puppy as Remus takes the clothes from you.

“I’ll pay you back,” you blurt.

Remus shakes his head. “Nah, don’t worry. Your payment for my extreme generosity can be giving me a fashion show when we get home.”

He’s half teasing and half totally serious. You whine and hide your face in his shoulder, your way of saying Remus, please. Remus just chuckles fondly and rubs your back, knowing if he says anything more you’ll probably melt into a puddle.

When the clothes are payed for and you’re out of the store, Remus holds the bag out to you. You take it, albeit shyly.

“Thank you,” you say, so quiet Remus barely hears you. He can tell you want to say more, but it’s always hard for you to find the right words. He saves you the trouble, before you get too worked up.

“S’no problem,” he says, because it really isn’t. He’d spend himself dry for you if you asked for it. He’d give you anything you want in the world. He wants to tell you so, only you’re already very hot in the face and he doesn’t want you bursting into flames in the middle of the mall.

He opts for a kiss to your head instead.

#★ mal writes!#ღ remus #✉️#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin x fem!reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin x reader fluff #remus lupin blurb #remus lupin drabble #remus lupin fic #remus lupin x you #remus lupin x y/n

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overandundertarot · 10 months

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pick a picture; something positive in your life rn!

Hello. There is always something in our lives that we can appreciate more, something that we may not notice but it can brighten our day! This reading aims to shine some light on that and hopefully raise your spirits!

Pick a picture; (1-4)

Pile 1;

Pile 1 you have your culture! I get that your culture is very community based and lively. You just have to go outside to feel the rythym of your nation. Scenes coming to mind are music on the street, public celebrations where the whole neighbourhood comes in to rejoice. If you're not in a place to have direct acces to your culture you can definitely seek it out online! Through videos and popculture content, your mood would definitely improve! The nostalgia and love for your nation shines through. Some of you definitely come from cultures of melanated people; Africa, South America, even the diasporas in america or western countries. You have recently been ruminating on past mistakes and actions. You probably already know by now that your inner thoughts and self talk have a huge impact of your daily reality, constant self deprecation can have adverse effects on your mental health. I',m getting that you really don't need me to tell you this and it's somehting that weighs you down on top of everything else. oouuf. For some in this pile, you are simply feeling nostalgic and thinking about the what could have beens because you've made a big move/change(could be physical relocation) or are about to and are feeling a sense of trepidation. Either way, it's good to forget about your problems for a while right now. Indulge in your culture and nostalgia, reminisce about all your childhood experiences growing up in your community, the quirky habits of your family members. Think about and lean into the times that you were happy in the past!

Pile 2;

Hi pile 2, you need to lean into your fun and crazy friends. People with whom you can be accepted fully. Your individuality! Playful expression of your authentic self especially when you feel like you have to stifle it to produce a more easily digestible persona for other people. They don't understand the genius behind what you do and call it weird, but so what!? Something positive in your life right now is that you have the chance to express yourself and have fun! Don't waste it, go be silly with your friends, make childish art. Be playful and dumb. Distilling every step of your creative process to make it more palatable to other people is robbing you of your joy and doing nothing for your art! You may be working with some people at work or school or whatever aspect it may be in your life. I'm seeing that its specifically on something intended for public viewing/presentatipn and while you may have initially been excited about it you feel suffocated by the other peoples influence now. Release this frustration by allowing yourself to have your own creative release and nurturing time alone. Make sure you are giving to yourself, and producing work that YOU are satisfied with, no matter anyone else's opinion on the matter!

Pile 3;

Hello lovely pile threes. You have the fruit of your hard work to appreciate in your life right now! You're breaking out of old habits and starting to look on the bright side of things! For some of you, you've recently gotten out of a relationship that was draining you for a while and you're feeling a HEAVYYY sense of relief. For others, its an issue of self worth that you're finally feeling like you're letting go of. Baggage has been released! Life has been good for you lately, you've been going out, having fun, talking with friends long into the night, laughing more. Definitely, you've seen an improvement in your friendships. There's lighter energy. You've stopped taking things so seriously. I feel like this pile has been feeling such a sense of appreciation for seemingly mundane things that you used to gloss over. Your cup of tea in the morning, the food you eat, the trees outisde your house. Everything is beautiful for you right now and carries hope. You're playful and looking to enjoy life, no strings attached!

Pile 4;

Hello Pile 4, you seem so weary. You may have been drawn to pile 3, so check it out if you feel exceptionally drawn to do so! Pile 4, you defer from pile 3 in that you have not yet broken out into the hopeful, joyous state of release. What you have to look forward to is hope. Hope that things will get better for you. It seems at every turn, its just gotten worse. Things only work out for other people and for you its perpetual suffering right? WRONG! Thats not true. You're in a depressive state right now and you may be leaning into self pity heavily from time to time because that feels like the only way you can get release. However, you keep working towards a better future and IT'S COMING! Keep holding on! This pile reminds me of the song Please,Please,Please, Let Me Get What I Want by the Smiths. Give it a listen I feel like the people in this pile may resonate with it. There are some difficult things you need to do to get out of this limbo and experience real change. You've been putting them off for so long, but you need to go through with them. There's a concept in psychology known as impact bias.(look into it!)Its basically where we overstimate our reaction to future events. In this case its a perceived negative event in the future. Trust me when you do it you'll feel more glad than sad, you'll find that when you're living through the moment you'll feel much less worse than you expect yourself to do. And don't forget the after, there's a reason you have to go through whatever it is that you're procrastinating and it'll result in a happier you.

*****

That is all :) I loved doing this reading I feel like it lifted my spirits too! If it resonated, don't hesistate to tell me. Feel free to leave any feedback here under this post or in a reblog. If you liked the post please like it and reblog! :) Hope you have a wonderful day and see you in the next reading!

#overandundertarot #pac #tarot #divination #pick a card #intuitive reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #tarot pick a card #pick a card reading #pick a pile reading #pac reading #pick an image

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jo-harrington · 2 months

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Corroded Coffin Fest - Day 13 - Sex, Drugs, & Rock n Roll

Summary: Up and coming Rockstar Eddie meets his dream girl on Corroded Coffin's first tour. And she's nothing like what he thought she'd be like...

Word Count: 991

Pairing: Rockstar!Eddie x Pornstar!Reader

Rating: T - I KNOW LISTEN BEAR WITH ME...we're playing with the oxymoron ok? ITS NOT ABOUT THEIR RELATIONSHIP

Warnings/Themes: minor discussion of the rockstar/pornstar life (of which I have no experience), mention of smut but nothing graphic, strangers to...somethings, AU within an AU, satire, metafiction, angst, fluff, friendship

Note: Keeping in theme with Saturdays tying into my existing series, this entry takes place in the dream-AU that I just established in the last chapter of my series Stranger Than (Fan)Fiction, which is a story about Eddie realizing that he's been written into a crossover fanfiction with his favorite fictional character (you) from a cult classic television show called Port Geneva (which exists in-universe but obviously was made up by me). Does it sound like a headache? Because it probably is. STFF is EddiexFem!Reader. But its fun and if you're willing to give it a shot...idk I'm biased but 10/10 recommend.

Check Out the Main Post for @corrodedcoffinfest here! Even if you didn’t start on Day 1, you can still join!

Tagging: @the-unforgivenn at her request.

You can find my masterlist here.

Please do not interact if you are not 18+.

Enjoy!

If someone would've told Eddie that he would meet his favorite porn star--let alone sleep with them--he would've said they were delusional.

But there you had been.

In the pit at one of the shows on their first tour. A face and body he'd seen dozens, if not hundreds, of times on tapes from the adult section at Family Video.

Someone he'd convinced himself he loved, in some weird and desperate way; the world was unforgiving and you were reliably in the VCR anytime he needed you, so could you blame him?

He'd intended to find you after the show, but you had the guts to come and find them first. To tell them you'd been a fan of theirs after seeing them at the state fair last year.

Then one thing led to another...

It was wild, what coincidences and experiences his rising fame brought to him, especially in a dinky town like Port Geneva.

"It's not that dinky," you laughed. You were curled on your side, hand tucked under your head, staring at him like he’d just hung the stars. Maybe he had; he’d made you scream, after all.

A feat he was pretty proud of, actually.

“I’d never even heard of this place before coming here,” he scoffed in return. "Couldn't even tell you what state we're in."

You hummed, “it's funny how you'd never heard of this town but you recognized me.”

You'd brought it up more than once downstairs at the hotel bar. Disbelief that he knew your face when the whiskey had loosened his tongue enough to admit it. Almost to the point of self-deprecation.

“It’s just a job,” you explained. “It pays the bills. Makes relationships hard. But I have a little trinket shop in town. M'sure it’d be closed by now if I didn’t get those checks.”

And whatever stories he'd made up about you in his head before to convince himself it was ok to sort of be hopelessly in love with someone on the other side of his television screen were soon replaced with facts about the real you.

The reality of this situation made him, in contrast, feel almost too embarrassed by himself and his so-called fame. You, happy to stay here unknown, and him, riding his rising star all the way to the top if he could.

There was a long way to go.

”Well I’m surprised you’d heard of us,” Eddie scoffed. “We’ve only had one or two singles on the radio. We don’t even sell out our shows.”

“You will.”

“You have a lot of faith in us.”

“You don’t?”

“I feel like we’d do better if I still sold weed at the merch table before our gigs.” He smiled as you laughed, genuine joy radiating in his heart to see it.

“That’d get people in the door,” you agreed. You poked his cheek. "I forgot to get a t-shirt, by the way. Was too busy chasing after you like some hopeless fangirl to stop."

This was how it’d been all night. Nothing like he expected.

None of it was, actually.

It had been a whirlwind and he knew he wasn't the only one who felt like that. One day they were managing their own shit, going from state fair to state fair on their real first "tour." Then they had music on the radio and a manager and were on their way to making their first album...eventually.

Albums don't make money, Phil had said, shocking them all when Eddie had asked about it. Touring does.

They'd been offered uppers when they were tired, downers when they got too riled up. There was more money thrown around than any of them had seen their whole lives. And then there was a stern discussion where they had to decide what their future looked like and if they were in it for the long run.

They were just a bunch of guys in their 20s...and they had to decide their whole future right now.

But tonight's show was the first where he actually felt in command of the stage and not just like he was playing pretend.

He and his friends finally got their dream.

People knew them, knew their music, some people even sang along.

You hadn't even been the only one to approach them after the show.

Did they even deserve it?

"I'm just a guy from Hawkins," he whispered to you. "Waiting to wake up from this dream or for them to send me back."

Or something else. There was a lingering feeling that there was just something else waiting for the penny to drop.

Eddie continued spilling his soul to you, in hushed whispers across the pillows, about his hopes and fears, and before he could get to a point where he was certain he was about to cry...you crossed the distance and pressed a kiss to his lips.

It could have been a shut up, you talk too much kind of kiss, but there was something so soothing about it, about the way you caressed his cheek and dropped tiny pecks against his mouth when all was said and done. Two kindred spirits, finding their way to each other in a mess of uncertainty.

"The future is scary," you told him. "But you have to be ok with the choices that you make."

"Do you have any regrets?" he asked.

"Maybe. But then I wouldn't have gotten to meet you." You looked bashful for a second and then rubbed a hand over your face. "Yeah. The rockstar and the pornstar...definitely power couple material."

"We could be. They could write stories about us one day."

"Eddie, it's a one-night stand."

"Doesn't have to be."

"And who is this they you speak of."

"Our adoring fans."

"Uh huh." You snorted. "You have to buy me dinner first before we have some epic love story worthy of stories written about us."

Eddie just smiled.

"How about breakfast?"

#corrodedcoffinfest #eddie munson x reader #stff updates #eddie munson fic #stranger than (fan)fiction

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thetorturedbuckydepartment · 4 months

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chapter five: fucking situations, circumstances, miscommunications

pairing: Bucky barnes x plus-sized!reader

summary: Six months ago, you were appointed to be Head Nurse to the Avengers by Tony Stark. Every day, you count your lucky stars, knowing the horrible past you quickly ditched back in England. It holds you back, restrains you, from getting close to anyone when on your new job.

That's until you met and fell in love with Bucky Barnes. The supposed assassin with a heart of gold, who seems to be eager to get to know you. To peel back your layers piece by piece, but could you trust him once you're laid before him raw and vulnerable?

masterlist

PREVIOUS PART -- CHAPTER FOUR: WHO ELSE DECODES YOU?

warnings: language, mentions of sex (no smut), self deprecation, angst (!)

word count: 3.9k

Taglist: @scott-loki-barnes @cjand10 @blackwidownat2814 @blackbirdwitch22 @laughterafter @blackhawkfanatic @mcira @bxckybxrnes24 @rachellovesloki @toffeacademia @bean-bean2000 @lana525 @selella

A/N: im so sorry okay? but I promise, the fruits of patience are always sweet (is that right)! hope u enjoy, and don't worry only five more chapters until I stop torturing the pair to pine longingly... also phase one is complete, so I'll be taking a two week break before starting phase two: the falling rollout! stay tuned :)

It turns out you were wrong. You had been speaking to Nat — Wanda was off somewhere with Vision — and you talked her out of the notion that you were falling in love with Bucky. Because of course you aren’t…you can’t afford to. Falling in love made a mess of you, there’s no way it’s going to happen so soon.

When you first set foot in New York, it felt like a fresh start. Sure, you’d imagine if all went well, then a few years down the line you’d find yourself opening up again. Not doing it so soon, and certainly hadn’t imagined in your wildest dreams that it would be reciprocated.

You convince yourself you’ve imagined it. And of course, you did. Because in the night, Bucky had left you and your scheduled movie night last minute, to go out on the town with Steve. He had invited you, but you’d declined. Maybe you’ve weirded him out with admitting you’re more attracted to brunettes — maybe he’s figured it all out and is now trying to avoid you, to let you down gently.

And when you’re just about to fall asleep after tormenting yourself with all the awkward ways he’s trying to avoid you, because he’s too nice to tell you — that’s when you hear it. Moaning and groaning of a man and woman through the wall, the hard and rough pounding of what can only be a bed frame against a surface, and the man is undoubtedly Bucky. You'd recognise his voice anywhere. Your heart sinks as you immediately walk out of your room, where you can hear everything, heading to the kitchen, unable to handle it. It feels like your insides will be spilled all over your front and the floor. Trying to get the images out of your mind of Bucky and another woman entangled…like that. Clutching at your chest, because your heart just burns and your eyes are full of water and everything’s blurry, shaky hands reaching for a glass of cold water to dissolve the lump in your throat.

Why are you upset? Bucky is a grown man, fully capable of making his own decisions and choosing the women he wants to sleep with. It’s not his fault he doesn’t choose you. So why does it make you so upset, that you’re quietly stifling your sobs in an empty, cold kitchen?

You feel like your heart has been ripped out — once again doomed to be romantically interested in the one who would rather choose an inanimate rock over you. Well, maybe that’s an exaggeration, but still. You don’t know how long you stand there, the only light a warm orange spilling over the black kitchen island, and think every single spark of hope in you away. The look of desire on his face…maybe it was platonic affection. You mistook it for something more, because you’ve never seen that look haunt anyone's features before. Maybe he looks like that at everyone.

And then you hear hurried footsteps, and the unmistakeable, juggernaut-like clack of women’s heels. You straighten, and she appears. Wrapped in a red dress, Bucky’s favourite shade, that accentuates every part of her so flawlessly, and her lipstick hasn’t even budged, despite the mess of her hair and other parts of her makeup. She offers you a soft smile as she passes, but you can’t help yourself. How has her lipstick not even smudged a little?

“Wow, you’re so pretty, oh my God. What lipstick do you use, and how the hell has it still not budged? Girl, I need the brand and name, like, right now.” You usher her over, to inspect her perfect lips more closely. Even the warm light makes her seem a million times more attractive, and you can’t help yourself.

You hold her face in your hands while she rattles off some obscure brand you’ve never heard of, making a mental note to search it up later. “It looks amazing,” you say, meeting her eyes, which are the most warm shade of brown.

You know you can never hold a candle to the beauty of this woman, even at your very best, but you’d be damned if you didn’t tell her of her radiance.

“Thank you,” she blushes and straightens, pulling away from your hold. Her outfit is so amazing, you can’t even blame Bucky for being so taken with her. You’re right there with him.

“Flirting with my date, are you?” Comes Bucky’s voice from the doorway, and you both turn to look at him. Then you remember yourself, and your situation. She’s just had sex with Bucky, and here you are, complimenting her lipstick.

And in this moment, you dig to your lowest familiar, and compare yourself to her. It’s not a competition, you know better than to fight over a man, but even if there were…you would lose by a landslide. Objectively.

Absentmindedly, you touch your hair while glancing at hers, dark, perfectly curled locks swishing about her shoulders and touching her elbows, even at its messiest. You don’t know if you want to look like her, or to be with her, in this moment.

“No, no. I was just asking her about her lipstick, that’s all.” She hands you her phone, ignoring Bucky, and asks you to enter your number with a wink. You happily comply, and almost miss the way her face falls when she reads over your name, and glances over her shoulder at Bucky.

Clearly, you’ve missed something. You don’t want to ask. “I’ll call you,” she gestures to you, leaving you with a kiss on the cheek. You blink several times, trying to process the events of the past hour or so.

You’ve never been more confused. How did you end up with Bucky’s date’s number? “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you doll?” He’s got that signature smirk on his face, but you look away. Something about his messy hair and flushed cheeks seems a sight that isn’t reserved for you, but the lover who just left the compound.

“No, I— I was just complimenting her, I swear. She seems nice, though. Are you gonna see her again?” He joins you at the table, and up close you can see the slight sheen of sweat on his brow, and you hate the way the sight of it stirs something in your lower belly. You want him, so bad. You want to be the reason he emerges from his room flushed and you leave with messy hair like you just rolled out of bed. Alas, it isn’t in the cards for you. Fortune and romance have never been entangled lovers in the story of your life, and you shouldn’t expect anything different in this chapter of it. You take another cold sip, hoping to swallow the bitter realisations you've stumbled across tonight.

“Well, considering I don’t even know her name, and you got her number, I doubt it.” He laughs, hoping you’ll chuckle alongside him. You’re not in the mood to talk about his sex life, and you feel like you’re about to throw up because of it, yet again. Now knowing his type is a dark, sexy feminine energy, you can’t bear it anymore. You are the very antithesis of it all — light, and soft. Maybe he even finds you sweet. But you’re not the one, not the one he wants.

You may be the one he spills his secrets to, but you know you’ll never be the red-dress femme fatale he takes to bed, or into his heart.

“Are we still on for tomorrow?” You ask, sparing him a quick glance then returning to look at your hands that just look too wrong. Palms too wide, fingers too stubby. She had hands like a fucking nail polish model. Everything about you feels wrong and misshapen in this moment. Bucky’s wondering what he did to upset you. He’d overheard you talking to Natasha, explaining clear as day that you’re not attracted to him. He’s simply taken it as his sign to move on, to try and bury his heart that he’s laid in your chest, instead of letting it consume him. That's why he said yes to Steve, why he left you to go out. He didn't want either of you to stew in uncomfortable silence because he doesn't want to admit what he heard and how badly it hurt him. To confess would be to lose you, and so he buries it all deep down. Just like everything else.

But it’s a lot harder than expected, especially when he brings a girl home, for the first time in decades, but all he can think of is you. He’s manoeuvring her hips and imagining them to be yours, kissing her lips and pretending you’re the one gasping against his mouth. He ended up so wrapped in the fantasy, your name had slipped past his lips as he came, even though he tried to hide it in a murmur against her shoulder. But, of course she heard. She’d lectured him for a couple of minutes while throwing her clothes back on, about how he shouldn’t be fucking around if his heart is so set on one woman, that he says her name when lost in the throes of passion with another. Then, she’d spun on her heel and left, and he’d departed to find you.

To tell you, he can’t do it anymore. Despite your feelings of romantic apathy when it comes to him, he can’t say the same. He is enamoured, infatuated, obsessed with you, and he can’t let you go. He can't bury his feelings when they just keep building up like waves and crashing over the grave of his heart -- he can't keep it to himself. Even if your words seal the vault closed forevermore, he needs to hear them. He was so ready to beg for one date. One chance, one kiss, one taste. Maybe not in the moment, seeing as you wouldn’t appreciate the taste of another woman’s wine on his lips. He wouldn’t either, if that night you’d gone on the date with Steve, he'd let his impulsive thoughts win just moments after you kissed another's mouth. He wonders how you kiss as he touches his own lips in thought -- would you let the other take charge and cover him in sweet pecks, or do you prefer to taste like passion and sin? These were the only thoughts circling his smitten mind as he searched for you longingly.

And then he found you, illuminated so beautifully in the light of the kitchen island, and it occurs to him, just how there is no competition between you and other women. They could never hold a candle to you, to the radiant sun of your essence and your beauty.

The woman seems surprisingly smitten by you, with your eyes on her lips, and her giving you her number. He doesn't blame her for feeling that electric pull to you. He's right there with her.

He also didn’t miss the look she gave him over her shoulder, after reading your name. She knows, that it’s you. She won’t come back, she knows better than that. But he can’t tell you that that’s the reason he won’t be seeing her again, and you won’t even look at him.

“Yeah, doll. Of course. I’m not bailing on you again.” He smiles, gently touching your cheek, and you pull away before his skin makes contact.

“Alright, I’ll see you then.” You turn around and walk out, the tears in your eyes dripping down your face and leaving a salty trail all the way to your door.

————————

In the night, you’d done a lot of thinking. And you’ve decided to let him go, to let him do what he wants. He’s not evil, he’s certainly not wicked. He just doesn’t want you. That’s not something to hold against him, how could it be? He doesn’t owe you romance just because you want it with him. You’ll cherish his friendship, his strictly platonic affection, but you’ll let any thought of a relationship with him go.

You’ll be all the better for it.

And so you stand in the communal living room, rechecking your Taylor Swift themed tote bag that you’ve kept everything you need. You had taught Bucky how to bake his favourite brownies the other day, so you packed a few of those in case he gets hungry. Your favourite crisps, drinks for the both of you. Headphones, a charger for your phone, a claw clip to tie up your hair if it gets too hot, car keys, wallet…

It’s sunny outside, so you’ve opted for a long, maxi summer dress in a dark dusty rose colour and covered in gorgeous flowers, golden hoops and necklace like always, and your hair falls over your back loose and natural with a small accent braid weaving through the strands. You’ve also kept the makeup light — blush, kohl and mascara, and a tinted lip balm. You feel oddly good about your appearance, when you’re not in front of anyone else. When there’s nobody else to compare yourself to, you allow yourself to feel pretty. You throw on a thin white cardigan, grab your tote bag and head over to Bucky’s room to collect him.

You two are going out today. And you plan on buying him a surplus of items, all because of the massively fat pay check you get given courtesy of Tony. You’ll also be taking the subway, something Bucky’s a bit afraid of, but—

You almost crash into Steve when you turn the corner, in your mind being preoccupied with making an itinerary of where you’re going. He catches you, grabbing you around the arms. The both of you are a little on edge, given the failed outing of a few nights ago, but you had let him down gently. You did tell him you want to stay friends, even as he looked embarrassed and laughed about it. You didn’t tell him about your crush on Bucky, having decided to keep it under strict lock and key after being consumed by the feeling of wanting to kiss Bucky instead. You knew, in that moment, that nothing would've made him feel worse. You meet Steve’s pale blue eyes, offering him an apologetic smile.

“Oh my God, Steve. I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there. Did I hurt you?” He shakes his head, chuckling at your panic.

“No, no. I’m completely fine. Don’t worry, dear. You look good.” He compliments you fondly, eyeing you up and down once. You smile, forgetting the initial panic that surged through your system.

You take the compliment at face value. “Thank you, Steve. That’s really nice of you.”

“Where are you going today?” He asks in polite conversation. You’ve already talked about this, about where you’re off to. Maybe he forgot.

“Oh, Bucky and I are going downtown today! I was planning on getting him some new clothes, you know, his current closet seems a little out of date. We’ll probably be back by 7 at the latest, but it depends on how picky he is, you know him. Oh, and before I forget, Denise is in charge while I’m away. Mr Fury and Mr Stark haven’t told us that there’s any major missions today, so it’s mainly the barebones team, so if anything happens today, you report to her. I’d much prefer to enjoy my first day out in months, but in case of absolute emergencies, of course you can contact me, alright? You’re the most responsible one of the bunch, so I’m trusting you to spread the message for me.” You gently squeeze his arm in reassurance.

“Yeah, will do. You have fun today, okay? I’ll try my best to make sure nobody gets in a housefire or something. You’re one of the hardest working people I know, dear. You deserve this. And trust me, if you’re the one picking out the outfits, you could put him in a hot pink suit bejewelled to high heaven and he’d wear it happily.”

You mouth drops. “You know what, that’s an amazing idea, thank you.” He laughs at that, and you smile. You’ve always been treated by past-partners like you’re the most unfunny person on the planet, like your jokes are tolerated and not laughed at. So it always surprises you when people find you funny. You welcome it, but it feels strange nonetheless.

And then Bucky appears, slinging an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into him. “Ah, the prodigal super soldier emerges,” you say, hand wrapping around his back almost stiffly as you try to calm your aching heart at the sight.

You know this will haunt you, when you’re feeling down on yourself. You’ll clutch at your chest once again, feeling stupid at the fact you ever thought this Adonis of a man would ever look at you twice. Why would he?

But for now, his friendship is enough. It has to be.

“Uh huh. Should we go, doll?” He tilts his head extremely close to yours, and it takes every conscious muscle in your body to stop yourself from closing your eyes. No need to embarrass yourself.

“Yeah. Let’s go.” You turn to the other supersoldier in the room, currently being the one left out. “Bye Steve. Please tell everyone what I told you.” He nods.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you.” You smile and let Bucky lead you away, waving a quick goodbye over your shoulder.

“I wanted to ask, was last night awkward?” You try to ignore the comment as you both walk down the street, heading to his favourite bistro for breakfast. The sun is shining, the streets smell like something that isn’t piss, and you’re spending the day with your favourite person.

“Hm, no not really.” He stops the both of you at a busy intersection, pulling you into an alley, and pushing you against the wall. His arm is still secure around your waist so your back doesn’t crash too hard against the eroding brick and mortar, but unfortunately that means your hands end up on his…firm chest, and your thumbs can’t help but soothingly stroke from side to side. You can’t meet his eyes.

“Then why are you avoiding eye contact? Is there something I did wrong? Are you upset with me? Look at me, doll. Please.” His tone is pleading, borderline pathetic, but neither of you care. Your eyes meet his, and you try your best to not get lost in his eyes like sinking ships, so inviting that it takes everything in you to not jump.

To not kiss him. You crave to know what his lips taste like, but you shouldn’t. You keep trying to bury these intense feelings, and yet they keep building up like waves and crash over your grave, resurrecting you. And it feels amazing to be alive.

“I’m just…awkward about these kinda things.”

“What kind of things?”

“Sex. I mean, I heard you through the wall with Camille. And then, ten minutes later you were speaking to me like you weren’t just doing…all of that. It’s strange. I—“

“Do you think it’s bad? That I’m having sex?”

“I…what? No. No, no, Bucky, I’m not shaming you for having sex, God knows I should be the last one judging you for that…it’s just…I’m not used to that. People I’m close to... we all talk about it a while after...you know. I’m just not used to hearing you have sex and then seeing your face, like, ten minutes after. That’s all.” You smile then, touching his cheek as a way to assure him you’re telling the truth. Half of it, at least.

He leans into it so sweetly. “Okay. If that’s all, then… We should get going.” You nod, despite every bone in your body protesting moving away from this intimate moment. He feels the same, because every fear he’s ever had disappears at the warmth of your hand on his face. His eyes travel to your lips and you fix yourself, smoothing down your dress.

“You look absolutely beautiful in your outfit, by the way.” He silently adores you as you double check nothing’s been stolen from your bag, although you doubt someone is going to sneak between you two what with your hyper vigilance and Bucky’s enhanced senses.

You laugh. “You always think I look beautiful no matter what I wear. Even if I wore your sweatpants, you’d still say the same.” Smoke covers the both of you in a misty haze, but he swears he’s never seen you any clearer.

“Because you still look beautiful to me. You always do. Just accept the compliment, will you? You know you don’t have to work hard to deserve compliments, don’t you? They should be freely given.” He strokes your hair, admiring the tiny braid in between his fingers.

“I’m learning to.” You both smile at each other, and you let yourself feel the sweet swell of your heart, for once. Maybe that’s what will work. You just need to feel it all, and get it all out of your system. That’s how you end your crush on Bucky — feel until your reservoirs are empty, until you look over him one day and see nothing more than a good friend, a best friend even. It might takes years, it might even be next week. But this is your plan.

“Now, should we go?” You extend your hand in a silent offering, to reconnect the bridge that you had temporarily abandoned in your moonlit insanity. He takes it, placing his metal hand firmly in your grasp and interlocking fingers. You notice how he’s wearing long sleeves and gloves, even in this peculiar hot day in November. He must be boiling in that leather jacket.

For now, you lean into him, into his warmth even though you can feel yourself start to sweat, and you both walk hand in hand. To any outsider looking in, you two paint the picture of the perfect couple. You admire the red and orange leaves against a sky the colour of the eyes that are trained on you — memorising the curve of your nose and the pillow of your lips. In the bistro, you two sit comfortably close together, laughing silently over everything and nothing — like you’ve been dating for years.

The rest of the day goes by smoothly, the both of you laughing like everything’s funny. Like teenagers on the first date — giddy and carefree. Your phone doesn’t buzz once, and you love the feeling of Bucky’s hands on you. He always loves to touch you, whether it’s tracing your palms or leaning his chin on your shoulder in the subway because you’re on his lap in the only spare seat available. You love it too, never knowing someone would be so eager, so desperate to touch you and feel you so innocently.

You’ve always felt shunned — like you’re only worth touching for a partner’s sexual satisfaction, and other times you were made to be ignored and tolerated. But if even a friend can cherish you in this special, sacred way, you can’t help but imagine what a true, enamoured lover would do.

Both of you want it, can feel that your feelings could be something worth a forever and a half — but of course, misunderstandings have to get in the way.

They always do.

NEXT PART

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x plus size reader #bucky barnes x reader #x plus size reader #marvel

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pauking5 · 9 months

Text

New Year, New Me

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x fem reader

Genre: mutual pining, flirting, some jealousy (if you squint), a shitload of banter, teasing

Word count: 5.7k+

A/N: I told you more Zoro is coming 😉 All I'm gonna say is that it's one of my favorites. Might have a part 2 planned but we'll see. Enjoy!

Part 2

The deep bass rocked your body with every move, heart beating in sync with the music blaring from the speakers in the club. Alcohol coursed through your veins, relaxing all your nerves and worries. Only heavens above knew how much you needed this.

To let go of everything for one night.

Especially if that one night was New Year's Eve and you dreaded it a shit ton.

This year was pure torment for you on the love frontline. There were some dates, a lot of situationships and even more failed talking stages.

It felt like your heart was just a hotel for people to stop at for one night. You left the doors wide open for anyone to come in and occupy a room. They would get whatever they wanted from you, whether that was sex or just talking the night away, and leave their trash at your doorstep for you to clean it up as if it was yours.

And it left you emptier and emptier the more you let the latch open.

Not one of them wanted to truly get to know you or let you talk for that matter and it was driving you nuts. You tried hard to convince yourself it wasn't a you problem. It was just hard seeing everyone else so happy and in long-running relationships while you were there struggling to have just one normal conversation with someone.

Before you let it get worse and have another storm wracking your heart you found yourself hitting the club a lot more often. As bad as it was, at least it covered the self-deprecating your sober mind was up to the minute your mouth touched the rim of the glass of mixed alcohol in your hand.

When the city clubs stopped doing it for you, you took to the beach club nearby. The tropical house genre wasn't really your style or the club itself, but it grew on you the more you visited it. Not for the good cocktails or the fun atmosphere the club induced in you. But for the green-haired man sat at the far back of the club that captured your eye.

From the looks of it he was a regular. Every night you were there, he was there too. You didn't think anything of it until it's been a few weeks and he was still present.

The only thing that changed the more you went there was that he took notice of you too.

The most he did was glance your way as you were dancing thinking you wouldn't notice but you caught him every. single. time.

There was something about the way he looked your way that sparked something in you. Every time his eyes laid on you it felt like your body would set on fire and that feeling only grew stronger over time.

He would be the only thing occupying your mind both in your waking hours and the intoxicated ones. Besides the obvious attraction you felt for him there was also this weird sense of connection that drew you to him. You hoped he would make a move to you but all he gave you was that unwavering gaze turning your insides to mush and your head into a mess.

You took it in your hands and decided to make the first move a few weeks ago. It was one of those nights you were feeling the loneliness a little too hard and thought some sort of action would have done you good. You scanned the club for him and found him in his usual spot, nursing a glass of what looked like whiskey.

The moment you set your eyes on him his dark eyes lifted from the glass to you, as if sensing that you were looking at him. His lips were placed on the rim of the glass, but his gaze was solely trained on you.

You moved your body to the rhythm of the music without breaking eye contact. He watched your every move from behind that glass like a hunter observing its prey, dark eyes roaming over you with an expression you couldn't quite read.

The beat of the song playing intensified and so did your moves, rolling your hips in sync with it. That caught his attention since you caught him licking his lips. He was definitely interested but he didn't make a move to you that night.

So, you tried luring him in more the next time you went. You danced a but more provocative this time, a result of the combination of liquid burning down your throat. You threw your hands in your hair messing with it as you exposed your neck, all whilst narrowing your eyes on him.

The most that did was halt the glass that was halfway to his lips, hand gripping it tightly as if to preserve his self-control. You continued the teasing, this time letting your hands wander down your body following the way his eyes trailed down. That had him throwing the contents in his glass down his throat rapidly, tongue poking against his cheek. You smirked in victory at the reaction. But even that wasn't enough to bring him closer to you.

Last week you decided that it was going to be your final try. You would drop it if he still didn't understand your intentions this time around. After all, you had your pride to preserve too.

He could be God's favourite for all you cared but if he couldn't grasp the concept of a woman wanting him this badly it was his fault.

Your last resort was provoking him. You wore a shorter dress revealing just enough to get any man howling to rip it apart. But it turned out, he wasn't just any guy.

After scanning the crowd you grabbed a random guy and danced with him for the majority of the night. You let him move you along to the music, holding your body flush against his. He placed his hands on your waist and dipped his head in your neck leaving rough kisses down your neck. You tilted your head back and looked at the green-haired man only to see his jaw twitching, eyes narrowed to slits in your direction.

Smirking at his reaction you turned around to the guy, glueing yourself to him impossibly close. You leaned up to whisper in his ear, eyes still set on the man at the back. His fist tightened dangerously next to the glass on the table.

Even with those obvious responses it still didn't get the point across to him.

You didn't understand him. You literally gave him every basic hint that you were interested and he reciprocated the gestures only to keep himself in that damn darkened corner.

He gave you the attention. The intensity of his gaze couldn't lie on that. One look from him kept you wanting more and more. You craved to know that connection wasn't just a lucid dream induced by alcohol and strobe lights. You lost yourself in the need for him to want you the way you wanted him.

And you did all that for a stranger.

The pursuing ended tonight. You weren't going to wait for anyone. Tonight would just be about you and you only.

But your excitement to drown in liquor and dance the night away into the new year was short-lived as the dance floor was suddenly flooded by couples of all people.

Blocking the laughter and sweet nothings whispered way too loud around you became harder. You ordered more and more alcohol to neutralise your senses and keep your emotions at bay. But no matter how much you drank and danced, you couldn't prevent that lonely feeling from seeping into your bones once again.

The closer it got to midnight, the worse you felt. A couple to your right was making out quite grossly, hands grabbing at each other's faces like it was a hotdog eating competition. Another couple to your left were humping each other like they were the only ones on the dance floor. You were pretty sure someone already had their junk out and it was just a matter of time before it sat in your line of sight and you got scarred for life.

Ah, fuck this. I'm leaving.

There was no point in staying here longer only to make yourself hurt more than you already did. The universe wanted you to suffer till the remaining last seconds of the year and you weren't going to give it the satisfaction.

You emptied what was left in your cocktail glass and placed it on a nearby table. Grabbing your bag and hoisting it up your shoulder, you turned for the exit. You wanted to get out of here before it hit midnight and all these couples would be getting it on.

But someone had other plans for you.

You barely took two steps towards the exit when a strong arm locked on your arm and pulled you backwards. You crashed into a hard chest, world swaying around you from the rapid movement. A woody vanilla scent surrounded you, sending you into a deeper daze than you were already in.

"Leaving so soon?"

You turned your head back only to come face to face with the green-haired man that occupied your mind for the past few weeks. The same man that annoyed you to the world's end as your attempts to show your interest for him seemed in vain.

Your mind was working on overdrive to make sense of what was happening. You didn't even look for him tonight and he was here, holding your hand. It wasn't helping that he was sat right behind you, body so close that you found it hard to breathe like a normal person. What was worse was that his eyes were focused on you, a relaxed smirk dancing on his lips.

The more you gazed into his eyes the more he took your oxygen away. And you couldn't help staring at him just a little more too entranced in his presence.

He looked even more breathtaking up close, strobe lights bouncing off his features enhancing them even more. His eyes appeared a lot sharper than they looked in that poorly illuminated corner.

He had this weird way of putting you in a trance every time your eyes locked with his. It veered you away from the fact that he lead you on for the longest time anyone's ever done before.

Upon remembering why you had every reason to be sour towards him, you turned your head away from him. You also did it to gain some stability in your mind, narrowing your eyes on the blurring crowd of dancing people in front of you.

"Didn't really have anything keeping me here," you spat out.

The music changed to a slower rhythm, still bouncy enough to keep people dancing.

His hand let go of your arm and you breathed a sigh of relief, until he wrapped it around your waist instead. You prayed he couldn't hear or feel the way your heart was racing, considering your back was pressed firmly against his chest.

"Wasn't going to let you go without a dance," he whispered in your ear.

There was no telling if the shivers dancing down your spine were either from him or from how buzzed you are. But you could feel the deep tone of his voice even with the loud bass thumping through you, louder than your own heartbeat.

"Oh, really?"

You turned around to fully face him. He was a head taller than you, shoulders extending beyond your field of vision. Your eyes lingered on his bulky arms, lined with muscles upon muscles, wondering how it would feel like to be squished between them.

The relaxed dress shirt he wore tonight looked divine on him. It was unbuttoned just enough to give you a sneak peek of his pecs, the rest of the material stretching over his toned body perfectly.

Okay, maybe he is God's favourite.

Beyond his looks, he was also emanating this oddly comforting energy. It was what drew you to him in the first place. You felt it the minute he laid his eyes on you the first night you came here and you felt it now as his eyes bore into you.

He took his time checking you out too. He was finally standing this close to you and you rendered him absolutely speechless. He thought you were beautiful from that corner, but you were even more gorgeous up close.

Your hair was put up in a messy bun, a few hair pieces falling around loose, framing your face. Your eyes twinkled with the changing colours of the lights, curiosity and interest dancing in your eyes.

The white silk dress you wore fell just below your knees. The straps around your shoulders did little to keep the dress on you as they circled behind where a deep back line exposed you fully to him. That cutout of the back line stopped way too low for his liking and your chest was covered just enough to not give him a heart attack.

What surprised him was that your outfits matched. If anyone asked the two of you if you were a couple they would hit the nail beside the head, so close yet so far.

Wrapping up the staring contest, his eyes settled on your lips. They were slightly parted, eyes seemingly just as lost in him as his were in you mere moments ago.

He chuckled at you which brought you out of your own spiral of thoughts and back to the blaring music and chatter around you.

"What are you really looking for out here?" he asked, stepping just a little closer to you.

Well, for starters, you weren't looking for commitment. But you also weren't looking for a one night stand. As contradictory as that sounded.

But it was a new year, which meant you could give into that new year, new me bullshit without thinking too much about the consequences for once. Who knew, maybe something would change.

The green-haired man sitting before you did not look like the type to commit or have just a one night stand either. So, he might have been just as conflicted as you were on that topic.

"Tell you what," you stepped closer to him and traced his shoulders with the pads of your fingers. He followed your movements until your hands stopped at the collar of his shirt, palms laid flat on his chest. "We can cross that bridge when we come to it."

Your eyes moved to his lips for the millionth time tonight. They looked so plump and inviting. You wondered how they tasted. Were they soft, with a tinge of his cologne that was already getting you addicted or were they rough, tasting just like the alcohol he normally drank?

He noticed the way you eyed his lips hungrily. His eyes moved from your hands on his shirt to your own lips. He couldn't deny yours looked just as inviting.

"20 seconds to the New Year!" said the dj through the mic, gathering everyone around for the reverse countdown to the new year.

He could consider himself fucked if he didn't make a move now.

"10 seconds!"

His eyes darted between your eyes and your lips unsure if he should indulge and plant a kiss on them.

"5!"

With uncertainty still dancing in his irises he leaned in, eyes moving to your eyes to search for any sign you didn't want this. But all he found was a fire ardently raging in your eyes. It was him that started it after all.

"4!"

The look on his face made you nervous. Any moment now his lips would finally press to yours.

"3!"

He glanced at your lips, getting closer but moving so infuriatingly slow that you decided enough was enough.

"2!"

Fuck it. I'll do it myself.

You fisted his shirt harshly and pulled him down to you, unable to wait anymore.

"1!"

You smashed your lips on his just as the countdown came to an end.

"Happy New Year everyone!"

Gold confetti rained down on you from all sides, getting stuck in your hair. The song playing on the speakers accelerated and so did your heartbeat the more your lips moved in the same rhythm with his.

Your hands locked at the nape of his neck pulling him closer to you. One of his hands wrapped around your waist, while the other grabbed the side of your face.

"May this new year be filled with fun for all of you," boomed the dj through his microphone before putting up the volume on the music.

New year's wishes could wait a little more. For now, you were too busy exploring the lips of the man that started a fire deep inside of you. He bit your lower lip, eager to take the kiss somewhere else.

You've been kissed before but never like this. It felt euphoric, like you reached the seventh heaven with the help of his lips alone. You were thankful he held onto you because your knees shook dangerously. And this time it wasn't from the damn alcohol.

You pulled apart trying to will some air back into your lungs. A lone hair strand fell in front of your face and you lifted your hand to brush it away but he was faster. He took it and gently put it behind your ear, letting his fingers ghost over the side of your neck. You couldn't help the smile pulling at your lips.

"Give me a second."

He let go of you and rushed off somewhere. You waited for a bit then scanned the crowd, unable to find him anywhere.

He couldn't have just left me here after that, right?

Did I rush him into it?

He probably left, didn't he?

Oh, lord.

I scared another good guy away.

This one was special too.

Great way to start the year, doofus.

Before you could wallow into self-pity and rethink your exit plan, he came back. Turns out he just went to get his jacket.

New Year's resolution: Stop overthinking shit.

He moved his jacket to one hand and let the other one find yours again, fingers lacing with yours delicately. The same fingers you studied for nights on end wishing they were wrapped around yours were now actually interwoven with yours.

"Do you have your things with you?"

You nodded, motioning to your bag as you fixed it on your shoulder, slightly confused at the question. He started walking to the bar, dragging you with him and hastily waved over a bartender.

"Give me the best bottle of champagne you have, a bucket of ice and two glasses. I'll take one of those platters too."

"The what-," you stuttered, shocked at his detailed request. He just smirked and you felt warmth rush to your cheeks.

How is a literal stranger making me blush and feel like I'm gonna explode at the same time?

Once he received the bucket with everything he asked for stacked neatly, he paid the bartender and led you outside to the beach. Fireworks were still going on from the looks of it. You could see the displays on either side of the beach you looked at. There were a few groups gathered around bonfires on the outside extension of the club, clinking glasses together and wishing for a better year.

You got a feeling he wasn't keen on hanging around others considering the fact that he mostly drank alone. Spotting a blanket and a few cushions on a couch you grabbed them, securing them under your free arm before you linked your hand back with his.

He started walking and true to your assumptions he led you further away from the crowd. He finally stopped at a spot that was illuminated enough to see each other. It was rather reclusive, but still in the vicinity of the club.

"Is this the part where you kill me or something?"

"I try to act like a gentleman and you take me for a psychopath," he deadpanned.

"Well, are you a psychopath?"

He just chuckled at your remark and shook his head.

"If I was, I wouldn't have asked the bartender for the best champagne they had."

"Fair point," you giggled.

He took the blanket from you spreading it out on the sand. You placed the cushions down while he placed the platter in the middle and motioned for you to sit down first.

"So, why did you bring me out here, stranger?"

"I've been meaning to talk to you for a while, but I guess tonight was a better time to do it than any. And name's Zoro."

He placed the bucket down and took a seat next to you. Grabbing the bottle of champagne he worked on opening the aluminum seal. Your eyes wandered over his arms, mindlessly stopping at the label and you felt your heart fall to your ass.

"IS THAT DOM PERIGNON?!"

You covered your mouth surprised that your voice came out so loud. He chuckled at your reaction before he moved to open the wooden cork.

That champagne costs a fortune. The selling a kidney or two kind of fortune. Fortune that you will probably never reach in your lifetime to just blow away on champagne regularly.

"Yeah, it is," he smiled. "I asked the bartender for the best they had and it's safe to assume he delivered."

"And you want to drink that... with me?" you asked pointing between the bottle and yourself.

He nodded, busy fighting with the bottle. He almost had it open but the cork just needed a little shimmying. An idea seemed to pop into his head judging by the way he snickered at you.

"Wanna see a trick?"

"Sure."

He picked up one of the champagne glasses in the bucket and held the bottom to the mouth of the bottle. He wiggled it a little on its neck until he found the perfect balance, moved it back and thrusted it forwards with force.

You expected the glass to break and fly everywhere but that didn't happen. What did happen was that the cork flew towards the small waves washing up on the shore with a safe pop sound. The glass was unharmed and the bottle was at last open, cold steam escaping it.

Your mouth was hung open in surprise. So he has several tricks up his sleeve, besides the gentleman act.

Satisfied with your reaction at his trick, he smiled again, this time more widely. He poured you a glass first and handed it to you before pouring himself one.

"Happy new year, stranger," he smiled, tilting his glass to you.

"Happy new year, Zoro," you returned the smile and clinked your glasses together.

You sipped the champagne surprised at the taste. It had a rich apricot flavor, a little sweet but not too over the top. You took your time savouring it. Who knew when you would get to relish in luxury like this ever again so might as well enjoy it.

You leaned back watching the remaining firework display. He moved to get comfortable, leaning on his side with his head on his palm. He had your exposed back in full view. Your skin looked so soft that it took everything in him not to trace his fingers down your spine.

"You're an interesting man."

"So I've been told."

"You had me running circles around you for weeks, you know."

"I know," he swirled the liquid in his glass, staring at it. "I'm not exactly a pro on the dating field."

"You don't look like a beginner either," you said before throwing back the champagne in your glass down your throat for some more liquid courage.

"What about you?" he asked as he got up to pour you another glass. "Should I be wary of any male alphas that would like to smash my face for kissing you?"

You laughed heartily at that. He's been around you for half an hour at most and he already made you feel giddy inside.

"Nope, not a single soul. Main reason why I've been hanging around at the club more than I do around my own house."

That was an exaggeration but there was some truth in it. You did it hoping to find someone that you could connect with in some way. And you did, considering the green-haired man currently laying next to you. It was just a question of whether he felt that connection too.

"And I thought you were coming to see me."

"Of course I did!"

His eyes shot up from his glass just as you registered what you said. The blush on your face expanded and you probably looked like a tomato by now.

Stupid alcohol.

"Sure you did," he chuckled.

You leaned back to smack his chest and he threw his head back laughing at the sight of your red face. As annoyed as you felt, his laugh was quickly growing on you.

"Tease," you tsked.

"Can't help it," he scoffed with a tight-lipped smile, taking another sip from his glass.

"I guess it's good," you mumbled mostly to yourself.

"What's good?" he asked.

"Letting go of the past. Living in the present, as they say."

"Losing control every once in a while can do you good," he stated.

Maybe he was right. Maybe tonight wouldn't turn out so bad after all.

Watching the sea at night when it was the calmest, with the moonlight glimmering on the waves put you at ease. Just as much as the man beside you did right now.

You dove in the charcuterie platter, laying on the blanket with your heads propped on the cushions, talking about anything and everything. You learned more about him and the fact that he could handle a shit ton of alcohol seen as he was downing champagne glasses faster than you.

Telling him about yourself and what a shit year you've had in terms of dating to get him off your case a little was supposed to be just light-hearted banter. But he just took that as a sign to tease you more.

"How to lose a guy in 10 days was definitely made about you," he howled laughing, after you told him about one of your situationships.

"Really funny. As if you've seen the movie," you said, popping a grape in your mouth.

"Try me," he taunted, adjusting his position to sit above you.

You mentally searched the movie for a scene that was iconic but could have easily gone unnoticed. You found the perfect one. Suppressing your giggles to not give it away, you cleared your throat to get in character and recited the scene word for word.

"Little, big, little, big... I don't know... I guess we will find out!" You made the grabby hands and pulled on a silly face, embodying the character.

He sat thinking for a few moments until the colour drained from his face at the realization of what scene it was.

"I am not saying that line even if you shoot me."

"Come on. I did it so it's customary you do it too."

He face palmed, releasing a sigh of annoyance. He just had to put himself on the spot like that. But he was a man of his word.

Looking around for anyone that could possibly hear him and become a collateral victim, he let out an exasperated breath and got into character.

"You-You can't name my member... Princess Sophia."

You rolled around laughing as he dug his face in his cushion in shame. The look on his face was priceless and you decided to pay back his earlier teasing with even more teasing.

"I have a question."

"What now?" he mumbled, voice muffled by the blanket.

You got closer to him and tried to keep your laugh in as you whispered your question in his ear.

"Does your member have a name too?"

His head shot up, eyes squinting at you dangerously. The earlier embarrassment was gone from his face and if the twitch in his jaw wasn't a clear indicator that you were in deep shit, the hand gripping your cushion was a good sign that you should run away.

"You're so dead."

Before he could lay his hands on you, you got up and ran out towards the shoreline. He followed, rushing to catch up with you.

You lifted your dress a bit to avoid stepping on it and bolted as fast as you could. He almost had you when you took a turn to throw him off, running back to the spot your blanket was on.

"Catch me if you can," you laughed.

"There's nowhere for you to run."

"Watch me."

You slowed down on purpose, letting him get close to you again only to dash out back to the sea. The soft sand under your feet turned from smooth to damp and soon enough your feet were submerged in cold water. You thought he wouldn't follow you to avoid getting his clothes soaked but he proved you wrong again tonight.

He ran towards you at full speed and you really had nowhere else to run this time. The bottom of your dress got drenched, sticking to your legs the further you went in. The water only slowed you down, giving him the opportunity to catch up with you.

You were waist deep in the water when his hands sneaked around your middle pulling you to him. You tried to break free but it was no use. The grip he had around you was as strong as steel.

"Let me go."

"Only if you say sorry."

"What if I don't? You gonna make me?"

"Huh, so she's got guts too," he chuckled.

"Why don't you fuck around and find out just how gutsy I am?"

You refused to give in. Splashing water at him only made the grin on his face widen because he started tickling you. And everyone knew tickling was a low belt move. You roared with laughter thrashing around in his arms.

Suddenly, retreat sounded a lot better than being tickled to death.

"Okay! I'm sorry!"

"Are you really?"

"No, but stop tickling me."

Reluctantly, he let go of you. He knew you had a surprise attack in store. His suspicions were confirmed true when you ran behind him, trying to push him into the water. He lost his balance but he wasn't planning on going down alone, hand quickly clamping down on yours to pull you with him.

You gasped as the water enveloped you fully. Sitting back up, you were fully drenched. Most of your hair was wet too, water dripping out of it like you just stepped out of the shower. Zoro, on the other hand, was giggling at you like a fucking school girl proud of bullying her friends.

Annoyed with his antics, you turned around and walked back to the blanket, plopping yourself down. He walked out too, that devilish smirk plastered on his face.

He stopped in front of you. You tried to look away from him but you couldn't. Especially when his shirt was so soaked that it stuck to his body in a way that let you see all of his toned muscles.

"Like what you see?"

You snapped out of your delusions, putting your annoyed face back on.

"Go away," you waved him off.

A sudden gust of wind blew reminding you of just how exposed you were. You looked like a wet dog. Your dress was wet and stuck to you uncomfortably, increasing the cold seeping inside your body at a faster rate than you liked..

You let your hair down placing it around your neck to get some sort of warmth from the parts that weren't soaked. Covering your arms in an attempt to wash the cold away, the breeze only persisted, blowing even more harshly as if to spite you. Zoro noticed you shivering.

"Are you cold?"

Still irritated with him, you shook your head no. You didn't want his help after the stunt he pulled. But the way you held tightly onto your arms and rocked from side to side told him otherwise.

Out of nowhere, warmth enveloped you. You turned to see Zoro right behind you, hands on top of your shoulders to make his blazer jacket cover as much of your body as it could to keep you warm. It was big enough to look like a blanket on you. You sighed at the comfort, pulling it closer to snuggle into the warmth of the fabric, feeling some of the cold dissipate.

"It might be hot out here but it's still December."

"It's January now," you stated.

"Okay, smartass," he boomed.

The night sky got darker and stars twinkled brightly as you talked until you finished the bottle of champagne and the platter. As much as he liked to tease, you loved his company a lot. The more time you spent with him the more you wished tonight would never come to an end.

He suddenly got up from his spot beside you and went to stand in front of you. He scratched the back of his neck looking at you which made you confused until he spoke up about his intentions.

"May I have this dance?"

He extended his hand out to you and you hesitated. Not out of the nervousness you felt yourself, but in a ploy to push his buttons. He deserved a little more teasing after making you wait for it for so long.

"Come on. I told you I wasn't gonna let you leave without a dance."

The way he looked at you changed your playful plans. It looked like he was really trying to be more into it and you couldn't say no to those eyes.

"Okay," you gave in, letting your hand slip into his.

His eyes lit up like moon crescents as he pulled you up and brought you closer. This must have been the softer, drunken part of him.

"What about music?" you asked.

"Music?"

He moved from one side to the other until he settled on a spot a few feet away from the blanket, tugging you with him. You were about to question his actions when you heard it. The faint sound of music playing from the club mixed with the sound of the waves breaking at the edge of the shore. It wasn't too loud or too faint but just enough to be peaceful and rhythmic background noise.

"You're unbelievable, in a good way," you giggled. He just smiled at you like a fool, most likely gone on the bouts of alcohol induced giddiness.

He pulled you closer, one hand holding yours out while the other curled around your waist, similar to a fancy dancing pose. Stepping left and right he pulled you with him into something that resembled a very weird tangled waltz.

You danced a combination of everything. He twirled you around, bottom of your dress swirling around you. Then he spun you out and brought you back in to hold you close as your hands settled back on his shoulders. He even lifted you up like one of those ballerinas you see at the opera, paying attention not to drop you face forward in the sand like a true dancing partner. You couldn't deny you had chemistry.

Twisting you around again, he stopped to dip you down on your back, hands secured tightly around you. He leaned down to your face, just a small distance away from putting his lips on yours. You closed your eyes in anticipation, expecting him to kiss you.

You wanted to feel his lips against yours again, missing the way they fit just right with yours back at the club. But just when you thought he would kiss you, you felt his lips elsewhere on your face - in a small peck on your cheek.

He brought you back up and grinned as your cheeks flushed pink. You brought a hand up to your cheek to touch it, feeling the faint brush of his lips burn into your skin as you processed it. He took your hand away from your cheek and laced his fingers with yours, leading you into yet another dance.

It was ridiculous. You were dancing to faint tropical house music on the beach in the darkness of the night with no sense of rhythm. But the soft sand under your feet felt better than any rigid dance floor you've been on and your dance partner was gentler than anyone you've ever danced with. You wouldn't trade this for the world.

The side effects of all the alcohol you drank was slowly kicking in and thankfully, the pace of your swaying got slower. You laid your head on his chest and let him rock you back and forth, listening to the beating of his heart that was more music to you than anything else.

"Thank you."

"What for?" he asked, looking down at your small form in his arms.

"For tonight," you sighed. "I haven't felt this good in a while."

"You're welcome," he said softly.

He was still trying to process things himself, mostly the fact that he was finally holding you after playing hooky for so long. You curled up closer searching for more warmth in his arms and he couldn't help but smile at you once more. It wasn't like him to show his inner happiness to people, but it seemed like his smiles were limitless for you.

The high of the alcohol you consumed was long gone, replaced by a drowsy feeling overtaking your senses. The music stopped playing telling you it was way too late for the world to keep going at it. All you could hear were the waves lapping each other in close distance, accompanied by a peaceful silence and the soft breaths coming from your human pillow.

You cuddled into him, sighing at the warmth he radiated. An arm was draped around you, drawing random patterns on your back that lulled you even more towards sleep though you didn't want to give into it just yet.

His other hand busied with yours, tracing up and down your fingers one by one. He turned them on all sides, then moved to your knuckles, inspecting each ridge and mound, each fading scar evidence of your rebel childhood. Once he was satisfied with his findings he intertwined your fingers together, bringing them closer to his chest.

Your hand looked so frail in his bigger one, encased like a precious jewel in a locked treasure chest with a lost key. But that key wasn't lost. It was just waiting to be found. Just like the latch on the hotel in your heart was waiting to be put back on the door by a person who wanted to stay all year around. Could he be that person for you?

He was the only thing turning in the tides of this endless night and you couldn't take your eyes off of him. Meeting him felt like some kind of blessing was bestowed upon you. Like all the pain of the previous year and the endless waiting was finally rewarded the way it was written to happen from the start.

By the looks of it he felt that connection too. It might have been just a one night adventure but only your sober minds could decide that in the fast approaching morning. But for now, being in each other's presence was enough to calm the tempest that's been swirling in your heart for so long.

He noticed you doze off when your head felt a little heavier on his chest. Taking his eyes off the sea and the few boats popping up and down the waves in the distance, he looked at you. Your cheeks turned a rosy shade, most likely from the amount of booze you had. They puffed up against his chest, light snores escaping through your opened lips. There was a little trail of drool pooling at the edge of your lower lip. He chuckled and wiped it away, making a mental note to tease you about it when you wake up.

Truth is that he's been waiting around for you all night back at the club. Time was flowing way too slow and his patience was running thin. But once you finally walked through the door his inner clocks froze over. His breath got caught in his throat, so much that he couldn't find it in himself to make a move to you yet again.

So, he just watched you from his usual spot, hoping he could get some liquid courage if he drank a little before coming to you. But he wasted way too much time wallowing in self-pity.

When you got your things and slammed the glass on the table enraged, he knew you were about to leave. If he let you leave back then he was sure he wouldn't be able to face you again. So he finally made a move to you, running through the crowd to catch you.

The fact that you were now tucked safely in his arms, wearing his jacket, told him he made a move at the right time. Who knew what other man would've stolen you away if he waited for too long. Or if he ever got to see you again.

From what you told him, he could sense how much you craved to find someone. To stop opening up to people who didn't even want to hear about anything other than bodily pleasure. Because he craved a deeper connection with someone too. He was just bad at showing it most of the time.

"I'm so glad you didn't settle," he whispered, laying a soft kiss on the crown of your head.

He spent the remainder of the night watching over you, until the dark sky turned into the early haze of dawn. He closed his eyes for a bit, waiting for you to wake up and unknowingly, he doze off in the comfort of feeling you close.

The comfort you were wrapped in was so cozy that you found it hard to open your eyes. Once you did, you took in your surroundings, surprised to see the green-haired man still at your side. The longer edges of the blanket were wrapped around the both of you, providing some warmth in the early morning breeze.

You half expected him to leave you here on the beach. To wake up and think of it as just another drunken night out that others normally wanted to take back. But he didn't.

You looked towards the sea. The previously dark night sky that was illuminated by the glow of the moon was now a myriad of orange and pink. It was brighter than any sunrise you've ever seen.

The start of a new beginning, you smiled to yourself.

The sun was still on his way to fully light up the sky, but the rays were already bouncing off the waves in glimmering gold and the sea looked so crystalline and blue, like you were watching a movie scene unfold before you.

Turning back to the man beside you, you took your time taking him in. He was sound asleep judging by the way his chest rose up and down slowly and had one arm under his head, propping it higher than the cushion could. The other one was still wrapped around you, in the same position you remembered it to be before you fell asleep. Small chimes came from his golden earrings as they dangled on the breeze of the wind.

He looked so at peace, a close-mouthed smile on his lips. The urge to lift your hand and trace the outlines of those lips grew the more you looked at them.

"Take a picture. It'll last longer," he spoke, taking you by surprise. His voice was way deeper than last night, resounding a little raspy in your half-asleep ears.

"How long have you been awake?"

"Enough to feel you staring at me like I'm made from tempered glass."

"I wasn't staring."

"Sure you weren't."

"Okay, you caught me."

His eyes crinkled in pride at getting you to admit it before opening up to look at you.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, a hint of amusement present in his voice.

"I slept fine," you replied, eyeing him with a raised eyebrow.

He looked too pleased with himself in the early hours of the morning. As if he knew something you didn't.

"Did I do something weird in my sleep?"

"I wouldn't say weird. But I'm glad you were comfortable enough to do it with me," he smirked.

What the fuck did I do? Did I snore? Did I kick him? Wait. He said I did something with him. Did we do something like-

Your eyes widened as the thought crossed your mind. The look on his face could only say that you did exactly what you thought you did.

"DID WE FUCK?" you whisper shouted.

His grin just widened and he started laughing hysterically, slapping the sand beside him like a maniac.

"Why are you laughing- YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

"Your face! That was priceless."

The daggers you were throwing at him told him you weren't in the mood for ridicule you this early in the morning. Too bad he had other plans.

"But you did do something."

"JUST TELL ME ALREADY," you shouted, getting ready to strangle him.

He seemed deep in thought on whether he should tell you.

"What are you willing to do for this important information?"

The way he wiggled his eyebrows at you told you he wanted to negotiate some terms first, as if he was withholding national secrets or some shit.

"I'll do anything," you sighed, playing along with him.

"Anything?"

"Zoro, I swear to god I'm going to put my foot through your face."

"All it takes is one kiss."

"One kiss? What are you, five?"

"Rules are rules. Kiss or I'm not telling you."

Your tongue poked your cheek in annoyance as you looked out at the sea debating your choices.

You could either run away and live with the humiliation that you'll never know what you did that had him make fun of you this bad. Or you could just humour him and find out what it was quicker. The latter seemed like the better choice.

"Okay, fine."

You decided to go for a kiss on the cheek, to pay him back for the almost kiss he gave you while dancing. You leaned down to him, cheek in your direct line of sight. You were about to plant the quickest peck on it when he moved his face so your lips landed on his instead.

They tasted like a glass of freshly opened champagne, just like the one you drank with him last night. You felt him smile against your lips, holding onto the nape of your neck to pull you closer. When he was satisfied enough with his kiss, he let go of you and you separated, breaths fanning each other.

"Are you gonna tell me now?"

"Did you know you drool in your sleep?"

"I DID WHAT-"

"There was like a whole lot of it on my shirt. Like a newborn baby's."

You burried your head in his side, trying to hide the blush rising on your cheeks. He just laughed at you squeezing you closer.

"There's nothing to be ashamed of. I think it was adorable."

"You're just saying that," you mumbled.

"I mean it."

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever."

He moved away from you and you thought he got up. Turning your gaze upwards you found him standing above you, hands on either side of you.

The playfulness in his eyes was exchanged for dark eyes staring down at you with hunger. The smirk on his lips told you that nothing remotely good passed through his mind at the moment and it made you gulp.

He leaned down to you and your breath hitched. No man made you this nervous before and you didn't even do anything together to feel this way. Like you sinned a thousand sins or something.

His lips brushed your ear, chest almost pressing against yours.

"Am I making you nervous?"

"Yeah. No. I don't know."

He looks like a sculpture and I'm supposed to not get turned on by it? Yeah, right.

He took you by surprise pressing his lips on the side of your neck. It made you forget where you were in the first place, mind entirely focused on the fluttering feeling he instilled in you. He moved the kisses all the way down to your jaw, with the goal of getting to your lips.

Just before you could feel them again, your stomach grumbled loudly interrupting your moment. Turns out the flutters were from being hungry.

"You have great timing," he shook his head at you.

"It's not my fault I'm hungry."

"Then, how about we grab something to eat?"

"I would love that."

He sat up and helped you up, starting to gather the stuff that needed to be taken back to the club in the bucket. You grabbed your heels, putting your arms through the sleeves of his jacket. Once you had everything you started making your way back.

"I'm craving seafood," you recommended. "What do you wanna eat?"

"You."

"EWW DONT SAY THAT."

"I'm joking."

"I am never kissing randos on new year's ever again."

"Only if I can become the only rando you kiss on every new year's."

"You're impossible," you smiled.

"Only for you."

Part 2

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#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x you #roronoa zoro x reader #opla zoro #one piece #one piece x reader #i don't know about you but i am wrecked after this one

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impishjesters · 9 months

Text

Jax reacting to hearing his s/o saying that they would like to marry him in the future

CW(s): rude Zooble, age gap, self-deprecation, unfinished relationship talk, eavesdropping, talk of marriage, Jax note: The "age gap" has no set age gap, just heavily implies and mentions that the reader is older and has experienced more as an adult then Jax might have. But there is no age mentioned for the reader. As for the "unfinished relationship talk", it's basically the reader letting Jax process everything that was said to get his feelings and thoughts aligned. Pushing him to talk when he's conflicted usually ends up with him blowing up, so they'll sit down and revisit the discussion later. A/N: I had this mostly written up ages ago, just needed to finish and clean it up. It felt weird... coming back to TADC after so long... This is also like over 2.2k words... normally I wouldn't post something this long here but, eh why not.

“So how long do you see the two of you ‘dating’ for? You know if there is an exit and we get out of here, the two of you will probably break up.”

“Why would we break up just because we’re back outside?”

You shot Zooble a confused look who only returned it with their own confused expression. It’s hard to speak for Jax, but you had been in this for the long run, it wasn’t just some “hey let’s date to pass time while we’re trapped here”. So far Jax has yet to give you any implications that he wasn’t taking this relationship as a means of passing time.

Zooble shook off the confusion and crossed their arms. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“No, I don’t think so. I don’t get it what’s the issue?”

“The issue is that you really think the two of you are just gonna continue as if this place didn’t happen?”

The confusion only grew the more they spoke, is that how the others saw your relationship? Just the two of you using each other to pass the time? Well, that hurt.

“I do actually, I don’t know what you and the others think about the two of us but I love Jax and I’d be willing to do my part to make the relationship work. I know he doesn’t seem like it but I know Jax would too.”

You leaned in close and cupped your mouth with one hand and spoke in a quiet voice. “He’s quite a faithful guy despite his flirty demeanor.”

Zooble let out an unpleasant snort at the statement, it was hard to see Jax as someone faithful and not just using you for his own means. But what did they know?

Unbeknownst to either of you, Jax had made his way over to the two of you but instead of making himself known, he tucked himself around the corner to eavesdrop. You rarely hung out with Zooble, so of course he got curious.

“So what, you’re just gonna keep dating him for the rest of your life?” They paused and blinked a few times before letting out a dry laugh. “Don’t tell me you see yourself marrying him?”

Marry? Marry who? His brows furrowed in a mix of confusion and irritation, you weren’t cheating on him, were you? The only other guy there besides him was Kinger, and let’s just say if it wasn’t for the fact he was trying to stay hidden he would’ve burst out into laughter. That’s a hilarious image, you with Kinger of all people.

“Marrying him?” The thought never crossed your mind, you saw a long life with Jax but the idea of marriage never popped up. Would he even want that? He’d probably make a joke if you ever popped the question, or say some shit like how he doesn’t expect you guys to get out of here so it’d never happen.

Plus would you want him to give up his youth any further than he already has by being trapped here? Did he even date before you? How much of his young adult life did he get to experience compared to you? You were older than him, you’d been able to do stuff with that adulthood before coming here.

Zooble frowned seeing you lost in your head, shit they didn’t mean to upset you. They uncrossed their arms and started to reach out to apologize but you snapped out of your thoughts before they could do more.

“Do you think marriage in the circus would be acknowledged out there?”

“What?”

You rolled your eyes and gave your hand a little wave. “I mean do you think if we got married here, it would be recognized legally out there? I mean, even if it wasn’t then we could just get married again. Knowing Jax he’d probably not want anything fancy so a little stop by the courthouse to sign some papers would be fine with me. I’m sure Caine could create a perfect digital wedding, that’d save us a fortune. Do you know how expensive weddings are? And we’d get it for free!”

As you went off on your tangent you missed the look of shock on Zooble’s face, and the two of you collectively missing out on the reddening of Jax’s face the more you spoke. Zooble didn’t know what to expect after you’d gone silent, and neither had Jax—should he even be hearing this right now? You weren’t serious were you?

“You’d do that? Get married to him twice?”

A pleasant hum escaped you at the question. “If he wanted to, yeah. The topic hasn’t come up so I don’t really know what he’d think, but I’m not opposed to it. I know he’s got his quirks—”

“Is that what we’re calling it?” Zooble interrupted.

“—but I accept those for the most part and it’s what makes him, him.” You continued, ignoring their interruption.

“I’m not the type to short-term date someone, and even if it’s weird to think about I could see myself settling down with him for good. Whether that’s here or there, though I’d much prefer it be out there but I’ll take whatever I can get.”

In truth Jax had never thought about marriage, he barely thought about dating until you showed up. And even then dating wasn’t on his mind until later on. There’s a tickle of laughter in his chest at the very thought, and not the good kind of laughter, the mockery kind of laughter.

Who the hell cares about something like marriage in the circus?

“You’re serious.”

You shot Zooble another confused look laced with irritation. “Zooble I’d appreciate it if you stopped questioning my feelings. I know what I feel and I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t serious.”

“Right, sorry.”

The two of you stood there awkwardly, Zooble shuffling in place trying to brush off your intense staring. In the process of trying to look anywhere but you they caught a glimpse of Jax hiding, the two made eye contact and Jax nervously shook his head silently hoping Zooble wouldn’t call him out.

Zooble broke eye contact first and looked at you, crossing their arms. “If the two of you do have a wedding, at least the wedding will be small. You know, assuming you invite the rest of us.”

A smile washed away the scowl at the statement. “Of course! I couldn’t think of anyone I’d want more than you guys to be there, regardless of what Jax says I want my new little digital family to be there.”

You opened your arms to offer a hug, Zooble was one of the two people that you let initiate any physical contact such as hugging. They were stiff and it felt awkward but they returned the hug, letting you give them a good squeeze before pulling back.

Zooble caught Jax silently laughing at their discomfort and shot him a glare before looking at you. “I’m gonna go, this is too much wholesome shit for me.” they paused and nodded their head towards the doorway. “Besides, looks like someone wants to talk to you.”

Jax hissed, shooting them a glare with a silent promise to dismember them later for ratting him out.

Throwing a glance over your shoulder you see Jax and momentarily worry if he heard any of that. “Oh hey.” Jax steps out from around the corner and grumbles back a greeting, eyes still locked on Zooble as they leave. “Stop that.”

He finally looked away once Zooble was gone and looked down at you, crossing his arms loosely. “Didja mean what ya said?”

“Said?” You swallow nervously. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough.” Sure it wasn’t the whole conversation but he definitely heard more than enough.

This wasn’t how you were hoping to pop the question, but at least you didn’t have an audience. “I… yeah I did. I was gonna bring up the topic at a later point but uh, now’s a good time I guess.”

“You’d really wanna marry me? Me?”

“Oh don’t sound too surprised.” Your eyes roll purely out of habit by this point. “I would, but uh..” His posture stiffens and you’re quick to continue, lest he get the wrong idea. “You’re younger than me… I don’t know what you got to experience before being stuck here. I don’t wanna feel like I’m… like I’m getting in the way of you having experiences before something like marriage.”

Jax let out a few awkward chuckles, right, he always forgot about the age gap. His worries weren’t on his experiences but more on how you seemed so casual about settling down with him of all people. You could do so much better—even if he hated to admit it, the thought of you with someone else made him upset.

“I don’t think experiences really matter—”

“They do though. If I’m the only person you’ve dated then how do you know you won’t come to tire of me or regret something as big as marriage? Isn’t there a quote that basically says most first relationships never last?”

Under normal circumstances watching you spiral would be fun, but this wasn’t fun watching you put yourself down. “Hey, since when do you believe in that junk?”

Okay, he’s got you there, you didn’t believe in that crap but still.

“I should be saying the same thing to you…” he started, ignoring the confused look you gave him. “You’ve got more experience but who’s to say you won’t get tired of me?” He let out a bitter laugh and gestured to himself. “Have ya seen me?” He’s a class-A asshole with little to no care about the other idiots trapped in here aside from you. Anyone could tell you he wasn’t husband material.

“Jax—”

“Nah, babe I’m being serious. I know those pretty lil eyes of yours see clear as day what kinda person I am. The others are sick and tired of me and want me gone, it’s only a matter of time before ya fuckin’ see I’m not whatever ya think I am.”

It hurt seeing him spiral, his voice shook despite the anger on his face, and if you looked close enough it looked like he was ready to cry any second. Before he could continue to berate himself, you grabbed the straps of his overalls and gave a firm yank bringing him to your height.

“Apologize.” Jax froze, anger and confusion clear as day. “Apologize to yourself, right now.”

“The fuck are ya talking about?”

“I said, apologize.” You repeated through gritted teeth. “Look I won’t lie and say you aren’t a handful—” Jax opened his mouth to retort but you pulled the straps of his overalls harder, not giving him the chance to interrupt. “But who isn’t a handful? Especially in a place like this, we’ve all got our baggage and you aren’t an exception.”

The scowl and anger never fell from his face as you spoke. “Out of all of us, you’re the third longest to be here—you’ve experienced so much and so little while being trapped in this shit hole. I would be surprisingly impressed if you didn’t have some sort of trauma-like response or body-eating anxiety.”

“I’m not trying to excuse your behaviour, because frankly, it can be very uncalled for in some cases—but I won’t pretend to know everything about you, or why you are the way that you are. But I’m willing to take the time and sit down, and try to understand you. We don’t have to get married now, heck we don’t have to get married ever. I am more than willing to just stay happily by your side with you.”

You finished your rant, panting, staring Jax straight in the eye as much as he tried to avoid yours. The look of anger had melted away, the scowl lessened but his brows furrowed, no doubt struggling to process your words.

“I’m not going to make you respond to that right now, because I know that was a lot and I know you’re struggling with your thoughts, feelings, and words. But we will talk about this later, okay? You will apologize to yourself.”

The grip on his clothing loosened, prompting him to slowly pull himself upright, eyes still avoiding yours. You knew him too well already, that after big or heavy topics it would take his brain what was the equivalence of three to five business days to work himself out, less he lashes out. He wanted to at least give you that level of courtesy compared to the others.

Jax nodded and you exhaled a breath of relief before gently taking his hand. “Good, now do you want me to lead you to your room so you can be alone a bit, or do you wanna go mess around? I heard Bubble was going to try and “bake” again, maybe we can mess around with him.”

Did he wanna be alone right now? Yes, there was a lot to process. But the temptation of fuckin with Bubble started to outweigh it. Eh, fuck it, he could process it later. Not every day he could fuck with Bubble.

He nodded, and without even needing a verbal answer you knew by the slow-growing smirk what option he picked.

“I would love to harass Bubble with my potentially one-day spouse.”

#tadc jax #the amazing digital circus #tadc #the amazing digital circus x reader #jax #jax x reader

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