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kquil · 3 days

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DIVORCING ORION BLACK | CHAPTER THREE

03 : SHOPPING (2/2)

CHPT. SUM. : so many stores are left on the list, the boys finally eat delicious food outside, detours are a natural endeavour and you meet a collection of interesting shopkeepers. what a day~

LENGTH : 10k

TAGS : fluff ; fun day out ; sirius and regulus being precious ; they're just kids ; reader is mother of the year ; reverse comfort ; OC ; visions ; original walburga makes an appearance ; she doesn't stay long though ; money isn't a problem ;) ; domestic fluff ; sibling fluff between sirius and regulus ; marauders fix-it-fic

← PREV. | 02 : SHOPPING (1/2) | SERIES M.LIST

“Two what?” Sirius asks, your attention snapping towards him and breaking contact with the grey-haired man standing before you.

“Do you need a new wand too, Mother?” Regulus speaks up from your other side, swiftly following after his older brother. It was clear from the differences in their elocution that they differed greatly. One was much louder, with a sharp tongue and an audacious attitude to boot; the other was of a more gentle demeanour, equipped with a clever mind and observant eyes.

Mr Ollivander leans back with an amused smile waiting to see how you’d react and whose question you’d answer first.

“The two of us need wands today, Sirius,” you hum, hoping your nerves don’t show through in your voice as you switch between the two. It was adorable how similar their curious looks appeared when staring up at you.

“Why is that?” your eldest asks curiously, the question reflecting similarly in your youngest’s eyes.

“My wand appears to be having some problems lately and, well,” you raise your gaze to meet eyes with the wand artisan behind the counter, “I was hoping Mr Ollivander could help the two of us today,” the light streaming in from the windows above reflects off Ollivander’s grey hair to create a glowing outline encircling him. His peculiar portrait reminds you of how idiosyncratic he is, like a living ghost who’s able to touch superior levels of magic and wonder. It's mysteriously intriguing but just as harrowing too. He was able to deduce so much after so short of an interaction, after all. You stare at him silently, a gentle prompt to help you and your eldest son with your homogenous need for a new wand.

“I like to focus on one client at a time,” the look he gives you offers up the decision of who should go first to be made by your small family.

Before you can say anything, Sirius speaks up with a light dusting of pink on his cheeks, “Ladies first, Mother,” he announces politely and your heart melts at his consideration. You coo and awe at his gesture while dropping down to his height where you press a loving kiss to his forehead.

“Thank you, my darling. You’re such a gentleman,” Sirius beams at your praise as Regulus meets his eyes to the right of you and grins widely. The two easily share in the small joys they’ve been able to experience around you. They don’t want to seem rude so the two of them secretly cheer at the headache you suffered to be able to change this drastically, “However," you comb your fingers through his hair lovingly, "you’re the star of the show today. Why don’t you go first, my dear?”

Sirius doesn’t refute, too distracted and pink-cheeked by your affection to do anything but nod. He then turns to Ollivander, who smiles down at him kindly. The oddness surrounding the wand artisan, however, cannot be missed and Sirius is cautious to proceed forward.

“Your name, young man?”

“Sirius Black,”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sirius. Please step behind the counter and we can get started on finding you the perfect wand, shall we?” Sirius glances one more time over his shoulder and observes the encouraging nod you give him; his heart calming from the reassuring pat you give atop his head. Another moment passes before he is led behind the counter by Ollivander. The elderly wizard proceeds to give him a short once-over before disappearing between two ceiling-tall shelves, stacked full of stored wands.

“Do you want to watch your brother find his wand, Regulus?” you ask, kneeling to level with your youngest.

“Yes please, Mother,” he nods with a shy smile, “but I don’t know if I’m allowed past the counter,”

“Don’t worry,” with a smile, you carry him up in your arms, “I can seat you on the counter instead,” for the brief moment you rise, he stays in your embrace. However, when you go to place him on the counter, you find that Regulus doesn’t want to be let go.

In a whisper, you ask if he’s alright, “Can you just hold me like this?...please?” His answering whisper melts your heart and you can't find it in yourself to say no. Even if your arms begin to ache, you aren’t going to set him down until he wants to be set down – you’re determined!

“You mean you don’t know which wand is for me?” Sirius’ words ring with curiosity more than judgment as he looks up at Ollivander.

“I’m afraid not, my boy,”

“Aren’t you supposed to know?”

Smiling fondly, Ollivander begins to explain the process, happy to answer the questions of a curious child, “Ultimately, it is the wand that chooses the wizard, Mr Black,”

Sirius contemplates Ollivander’s words for a moment as Regulus gasps in astonishment beside your ear. The awe and interest are evident in the youngest’s silently twinkling grey eyes, matching that of his elder brother. Their wonderment is clear and both are equally skilful in concealing it.

“How will I know that a wand has chosen me?

“You’ll know,” Ollivander nods. There’s something in his pale eyes that makes Sirius keep from asking anything further. Something that says ‘trust me’.

Together, you and Regulus watch over the counter as Sirius tests out a variety of wands.

At one point Sirius makes several misplaced papers catch fire, which makes you giggle quietly. Regulus stiffened in your arms momentarily at the sight of the sudden flames and only seemed to relax as soon as he heard your soft laughter. It isn't until he presses his face into the junction of your neck and shoulder that he finally draws your attention. It didn’t seem like an issue to press further about so you gave his small back a few reassuring rubs and continued to watch over Sirius – perhaps Regulus was feeling a little exhausted already. Despite the disastrous flames, Ollivander had the situation handled and simply magicked away the fire before rummaging around for a different wand, muttering softly to himself as he did so. It wasn’t until Ollivander came back with a jet-black wand with familiar-looking markings carved along its body that you smiled to yourself. This was the one.

“Try this...” Ollivander offers up the wand but after the previous incident, Sirius is much more hesitant to proceed. He was only able to resume the testing when Ollivander flashed him a kind, reassuring smile - though he remained hesitant and stiff. Sirius was too scared to turn and see your reaction to the commotion he had just caused. But it was an accident! Surely you’d understand– “Give it a wave, then, young man,” Ollivander's chuckle was able to ease some of the stiffness from his limbs as the markings beneath his fingers urged him for a sturdier grip before giving the black wand a small flick.

Appearing from the tip of his wand, a small circulating breeze moves through the room, not caring for the mess it makes of any unfiled papers nor the rattling it causes amongst the stacked boxes of wands. The breeze eventually returns to circle Sirius, ruffling his hair and clothes before eventually dying down to leave him looking bedraggled.

The result was quite confusing to the ordinary eye, which worried you, but not for the elderly wand artisan. Ollivander slaps his knee and throws his head back with a laugh. “Now that’s a match if I’ve ever seen one!” His words make Sirius stare up at him with wide eyes of disbelief.

“Really?”

Ollivander kneels beside him with a twinkle in his eye, “That’s quite a choosy wand, my boy. Wands made out of jet black Ebony are happiest when in the hands of those who are not afraid of being themselves, sticking to their beliefs no matter what external pressures there may be,” the elderly wizard’s words washed over Sirius and flooded him with a feeling of vindication. He felt light and there was a flutter in his chest. In his short life so far, it’s been so hard to adhere to his convictions, and he has never before felt so validated, “you, young man, have a very courageous heart,” Ollivander’s words make you smile widely.

You set Regulus down as Sirius makes his way back to you. The two brothers share a hug but Sirius is still unable to meet your eyes. It isn't until his younger brother pulls away from the embrace that Sirius finally wills himself to look up at you. Regulus can see the slight fear in his older brother’s eyes and he knows the exact cause; Regulus was scared too. Regardless, you haven’t done or said anything to further his fears so the younger brother tries his best to be optimistic and flashes his older brother a small smile as if to say ‘it’s going to be okay’.

Biting his lip, Sirius finally turns to find that you’ve come down to his height. Rather than a scowl on your face for his earlier misbehaviour with the discordant wands, he finds you smiling brightly at him instead. Before he could comprehend what was happening, you pulled him into your arms. One hand presses against the back of his head and encourages him to bury his face into your shoulder as the other splays across his small back to give him supportive pats.

Beside his ear, you whisper, “I’m so proud of you, Sirius,” pulling away your eyes find that his own have significantly watered, holding back tears. Tears of joy, you assess and deliver a small kiss on his forehead.

“You’re not mad at me? For setting fire to the papers earlier?”

“Of course not!” you protest and pull him into your tight embrace once more, “I’d be surprised if I don’t set something on fire when trying to find a new wand too,” he giggles against your shoulder and it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard, “I’m so so proud of you Sirius, you have your wand now, and you’re going to be attending Hogwarts soon,” you sigh into his dark curls and mutter against his temple, “Far too soon…”

Relieved by your reaction, Sirius can finally digest your words and the sincere tone behind them. He’s never heard his mother praise him or voice how she’s proud of him but here you were, whispering rare words for him to hear only. He doesn’t know if he could ever feel happiness like this ever again. It’s hard for him to even describe - he’s just so so happy.

It’s your turn to get a new wand now and the process is entirely the same. Ollivander goes through a selection of wands for you to test the feel of, giving each one a chance to see if they want to become your companion or not. After going through the first handful, you manage to light a stack of papers on fire yourself and when Ollivander swiftly distinguishes it, your group shares a laugh.

“See? I told you it would happen to me too,” you smile over your shoulder at Sirius who giggles with his little brother.

A few more inharmonious wands go by before Ollivander hands you one that's made of a light-coloured wood. The design of its body was very elegant and emulated a pattern that was reminiscent of vintage stone pillars. Widely spaced vertical ridges run along the main body and lead towards ornate, uniform designs that either look like curling leaves or crashing waves. It’s beautiful but what matters is whether or not the wand chooses you.

Flicking the wand, a spark of light escapes from the tip and you prepare yourself for another pile of papers to be set on fire. However, you’re pleasantly surprised when the light floats through the room as if it were swimming through water. It reaches Sirius and Regulus, where it proceeds to circle each of them before departing and leaving a warm touch that lingers on their cheek. The light eventually returns to you again, where it orbits your figure several times, enveloping your silhouette in an ethereal glow before disappearing. In its wake, it leaves a path of warmth that loiters in the air, suspended like the many particles of dust dancing in the light filtering in through the high windows.

Smiling in success, you hold the wand to your chest and turn to your boys who had begun to cheer for you. You could have easily lost yourself in the moment if it weren’t for your keen ears picking up on Ollivander’s mutterings. His words were all in a whisper and not meant for anyone else’s ears.

“How fascinating…” the elderly wizard smiles whimsically to himself again, “the singular wand whose properties are the precise opposite of the original became your destined companion,” you meet the pale, almost translucent eyes of the wand artisan, who smiles at you as soon as he finishes muttering to himself, “it’s truly an honour to be able to witness the pairing of an Applewood wand,”

“Why is that?” Regulus asks before you can even react. With a smile, Ollivander moves to the front of the counter and bows at the knees to his height. Their eyes lock like that of a patient but talented teacher and his diligent student.

“There are many properties of a wand that can be attributed to the reasons why it chose its ultimate owner, one of which is its wood. Your brother,” Ollivander gestures to Sirius, “has himself a wand that is made of Ebony wood, while your mother has herself one that’s made of Applewood. Applewood wands are very powerful indeed, I can assure you of that,” you find yourself leaning closer, eager to learn more, just as much as your two sons were to learn of their mother and the nature of wands, “their owners are typically ones who harbour ambitious goals and even higher principles. As a result, there stands a positive correlation between possessors of Applewood wands and the life they tend to live,” your breath remains trapped in your throat, held there by anxiety as you tensely anticipate Ollivander’s successive words, “they live a life that is long and where they are well-loved,” the relief was great and one that you were desperate to maintain. You know what you're setting out to do is going to prove a difficult challenge but it is going to be worth it, as long as your two boys are happy and by your side.

Together, both wands cost 14 galleons. And, despite the excitement you first held for meeting such a distinguished Harry Potter character, you were eager to leave, slightly scared of the amount of knowledge he potentially held. At the very least, you were able to depart on a good note

Naturally, the next order of business was to get all of Sirius’ robes and uniform at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions shop. That would be on the north side of Diagon Alley and, considering you were on the south side for Ollivander’s wand shop, you needed to direct your boys back up to the North. You admit, it was quite inefficient to go from Gringotts, which was North, to Ollivander’s (South), only to go back North when all the shops you had left to visit were up there. There were many shop names that you recognised on the way down, however, it was best to get the only singular South-side shop from your list out of the way so you could spend the rest of the afternoon easily hopping from shop to shop in the North-side.

“What’s wrong, darling?” you ask, noticing that Sirius has been staring off in one direction for some time, completely motionless and glued into place.

“Nothing… let’s go,” he grabs a fistful of your dress’ skirt but you already noticed what had captured his attention.

“A joke shop…” a small grin tugs on the corners of your lips. You remember the child-like wonder that washed over you whenever you watched the scenes featuring Fred and George Weasley’s joke shop. This joke shop isn't theirs but you wonder if it’s just as remarkable.

Sirius had no hope of ever convincing you to take a look, especially when most of today would be packed full of shopping at other shops for his supplies as a first year. In his insecurity, Sirius was only able to muster a quiet, “...yeah…”

“What a good idea,” you smile brightly and take both their hands into yours, heading in the direction of the shop happily named, ‘Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop’, “Let’s have a little look shall we? A small detour like this can’t do much harm,” Sirius was smiling from ear to ear as soon as he overcame the shock your agreement brought, “Although, I'm afraid I won’t consider buying anything,” a treat like that is meant for another time...

“That’s okay!” Sirius cheers and hurries along, making it to the door before you could and holding it open for you.

You’re beginning to realise a recurring discrepancy between the size of a shop’s exterior compared to its interior space; the joke shop is considerably larger on the inside compared to its outside appearance. It added to the joke factor of the store itself - how funny that it appeared so deviously small on the outside.

The entrance was lined with shelves filled with an assortment of joke items, all were vibrant and eye-catching. It was hard to enforce any form of restraint when your eyes couldn’t stay in one place too long, nor could your feet. There were several other children with their parents roaming the galleries of jokester paraphernalia too. Only then were you finally able to focus your gaze on your two, fascinated boys, not wanting to lose them.

“How undignified!” your eyes roll at the scratchy, annoying voice that invades your head once more, “No child of mine should ever be seen in a Joke Shop!”

“Oh Shut up, let my kids be kids,” you retaliate, folding your arms loosely as you observe Sirius dragging around his younger brother by the hand. Regulus happily heeds, not needing to be dragged to be able to shadow his older brother. Nevertheless, their small hands remain connected. The scene made you smile warmly, they’re the cutest boys you’ve ever – you want to prolong their happiness and give them as many opportunities as possible to experience the same delights over and over again.

“THEY’RE NOT YOUR KIDS!”

“YES. THEY. ARE!” shaking away Walburga’s shrill screams, you try to focus on the ground beneath you. It’s best to end this argument quickly, you don’t want to faint in the middle of a joke shop and ruin the day for your two boys; it's barely started.

You didn’t prolong your stay but enough time was spent there for you to witness Sirius’ certain appeal towards a particular item: a purple box of stink pellets. Smiling to yourself, you make a mental note of the fact before leading your two boys out and back to the north side of Diagon Alley.

It’s a relief that most shops offer delivery services, you don’t believe you would be able to carry all of your purchased items home.

At Madam Malkin’s, you bought all the necessary uniforms and robes for Sirius to have. Being an established house and family, you were attended to right away despite your insistence on no special treatment. Sirius was then measured and the appropriate sizes for his robes and other items were brought back to be tried on. He looked somewhat embarrassed from the attention but you couldn’t help yourself. There are many joys of being a mother and one of them was the ability to brag about how beautiful and exemplary your child was. To anyone within earshot and to those who, both, cared and didn’t care to listen, you openly talked their ear off about Sirius. Said son grew redder and redder with each expression of praise that left your lips without an ounce of hesitation.

Was he hearing right? You're just joking with him...but you sound so sincere. Surely those other people don't care, why are you such talk on them?!

“He looks all grown up, I’m so so proud of him,” Sirius’ ear tinted a faint red.

“I worry that he’ll attract too many girls’ attention and grow a bad reputation over breaking too many hearts. But, then again, look at his handsome face, of course, they would fall for my son,” Sirius looks to the side, trying to find interest in the cracks of the shop’s walls -- a weak attempt at distracting himself from the flames in his cheeks.

“I can already tell! He’s going to achieve so many great things, I just know it!” Sirius looks over and narrows his eyes at his giggling younger brother. Wait until he has to go through the same thing when he starts his first year!

“Yes yes, I know your son looks wonderful in his robes too but look at my son! His robes look like they were made for him!” try as he might, Sirius can’t help the smile that pulls at his lips. His heart swells up in his chest and threatens to burst from the amount of happiness your endless praise fosters in him.

Just as the checklist states, you made sure to get three sets of plain work robes in black, a pointed hat, a protective pair of dragon hide gloves, a black winter coat with silver fastenings and, lastly, name tags to attach to all items. The total amounted to 28 galleons and 44 sickles. Madam Malkins offered a service that stitched on the name tags for you but you kindly refused. It’s a tedious task but you wanted to stitch the name tags on yourself; you had the time and you wanted to do your due diligence as a mother. This is your job and you aren’t going to hand it over to anyone else. You were told to expect the owl delivery within a week.

“How about a break?” you suggest upon seeing a sudden fall in your boys’ energy. Their once slumped shoulders suddenly tense and the two peer up at you with cautious eyes. Despite the amount of progress you’ve made in cultivating a mutual rapport with them, it appears that some phrases put them on high alert regardless of the harmonic atmosphere.

“It’s okay mother,” Regulus hurriedly assures, his smile now much smaller and wrinkled at the edges from superficially conjectural nerves.

“Yeah, we’re not tired, we can continue shopping just fine,” Sirius continues, reaching out to hold hands with his brother as they stand before you with identical ambivalent expressions. It breaks your heart. Their words are simple but their actions are heavily veneered by a thin veil of coy nonchalance.

“Aren’t you two hungry?” you ask, crouching down to meet at their level, where you’ve gotten into the habit of being able to converse deeply with them. Keeping their gaze, holding each other’s attention and listening closely has led to so much understanding and that’s all you want with them.

They look at each other from your question. Sirius can see the obvious hesitation in his younger brother’s eyes and he gives his hand a small squeeze. Usually, Sirius was the more outspoken one, never letting his fears show while allowing his tongue to run and verbalise all the thoughts and opinions in his head. It was his small bit of freedom in a house that was so set on censoring him and his many opposing views, despite his young age. Oftentimes, his parents would guilt him into thinking that he was being a bad influence on Regulus, simply by voicing his views, which are usually opposite to those of his parents. Regulus had a much softer disposition, however. While Sirius carried about smug confidence and had a deficiency for self-preservation, Regulus reigned in studiousness and quiet wit. Sirius knows that his younger brother is gifted but his bright mind shouldn’t be cultivated under such oppressive practices and methods. If that happened, Sirus feared that his darling, little brother's gift would be reduced to nothing. There's no way that Sirius would let that happen to his baby brother, which is why he’s so vocal! But… what's changed?

Now he was hesitating, his throat clogged up, his palms were sweaty…he was scared. Scared to have you look at him with disapproval or disappointment. Sirius doesn’t know what happened to you, his mother, but you’re different now, he wants to love you and be loved in return. You’ve shown him that you can give the tenderness he desires, you’ve proven that he’s loveable and that he’s worth your time and attention.

He’s scared because if he makes a single misstep now… he’s going to lose that. It’s much harder losing something you’ve known, felt, and experienced than losing something that never existed in the first place…

“My dears?” you whisper with concern, leaning forward ever so slightly with furrowed brows of worry, “what’s wrong?”

“We’ll have to go home to eat…” Regulus confesses softly. He avoids your eyes as he fiddles with the hem of his long-sleeved shirt and completely misses the confused look on your face.

“It is not proper to conclude important errands prematurely,” Sirius explains as if reciting from a rulebook, “...and we don’t want to go home yet either…”

“We’re not stopping entirely,” you reassure, petting their soft hair affectionately and rewarding them with a kind smile as soon as they raise their hopeful faces to you, “we’re just having a lunch break, my loves,”

“You mean…” Sirius begins.

“We’re eating outside?” Regulus continues. Both look astonished at the notion.

“Of course, it’s better than eating back at home,” it then occurs to you a simple explanation for their odd behaviour, “Do you two not want to eat outside?”

“No!” Sirius jumps over-excited before a flash of realisation flourishes in his grey eyes and he quickly drops back, “No, it’s not that, m-mother,”

“W-we’ve just never eaten outside before,” Regulus explains shyly, “you have us on a strict dietary regime as a proper gentleman wizard of the Black family should be,”

“I’m putting a stop to that ridiculous ‘diet’ as soon as we get back,” they perk up at you but are quickly ushered forward to the nearby pub; unable to press you further on the matter.

Stepping into the Leaky Cauldron, you're greeted by the comforting aroma of hearty meals, mingling with the faint scent of crackling firewood and a faint fog of cigarette smoke. The space is a cosy retreat from the chaotic cobblestone streets outside. From the ceiling hangs several candle-lit chandeliers made of blackened iron, its flickering lights casting a warm glow upon the worn wooden tables and mismatched chairs positioned about the room. The walls are lined with shelves displaying an eclectic assortment of magical curiosities - from peculiar potion ingredients preserved in jars to enchanted artefacts that seem to hum with hidden power. An array of portraits decorate two parallel walls above brick archways. The portraits contain inky sketches that move about freely, some interacting with other portraits as a few characters walk between the varying displays. You guess they might be disappointed to realise that their selection of landscapes are largely the same - plain - but having the freedom seemed sufficient for them to stay jovial enough. At the heart of the room stands a grand fireplace, its flames dancing merrily within its brick frame. Its ochre light casts playful shadows across the room, socialising with the silhouettes of fellow bar guests.

Lighting within the pub relied heavily on candles so the atmosphere was quite dim but the tall candle illuminating the centre of your table gave the time spent there a very idyllic ambience. The two were unfamiliar with the menu items so, with their permission and trust, you ordered in their place.

Since Sirius didn’t mind what he got, you ordered for him Hunter’s Chicken. Regulus said he had a liking for fish so you got him a classic plate of Fish and Chips. For yourself, you got the cottage pie. For drinks, they got apple juice while you had a hot tea. Thinking back on the bland meals served at the Black family household, you’re certain that they were in for a treat today.

It doesn’t take long for the meals to be given out after your beverages; thankfully all of your entrees were delivered together. In front of Sirius were two succulent chicken breasts wrapped in smoky bacon and smothered in a rich and tangy barbecue sauce, baked to golden-brown perfection.

He takes his first bite and moans in amazement at the taste. The tender chicken yields effortlessly to reveal layers of savoury goodness - the sweet and smoky notes of the bacon harmonising with the bold tanginess of the barbecue sauce. Every mouthful he takes thereafter struggles between going slow or fast, the symphony of textures and tastes, leaves him craving more of the hearty dish. He doesn’t think he’s ever tasted something so appetising. Why couldn’t the food at home taste like this?

Regulus had before him a plate displaying a golden fillet of flaky fish. It’s encased in a light and crispy batter, served alongside a generous helping of thick-cut, crispy-on-the-outside-fluffy-on-the-inside chips, garden peas and a small ceramic of tartar sauce. Having not seen this appearance of a fish dish before, Regulus looks up at you with a curious look as if to say ‘What is this?’. You greet his curiosity with a sympathetic but patient gaze.

Gently, you urge him to squeeze the lemon slice over the battered fish and nod when he timidly follows your instruction, “Now give it a try, my darling, I promise you’ll like it,”

…and like it, he did!

With each bite, Regulus is met with satisfying crunch after satisfying crush. The exterior is perfectly fried, giving way to the tender fish within. The delicate cod melts in his mouth, introducing the delicate flavour of the fish, complemented by a sprinkle of salt and the squeeze of fresh lemon. Together they create a harmonious balance of savoury and tangy notes that dance happily over his palate.

“It’s delicious Mother!” Regulus grins with partially stuffed cheeks and crumbs of the batter decorating his lips. Sirius nods enthusiastically beside him, unable to speak from stuffing his mouth full of his chicken dish.

“Big brother, you have to try some!” you watch with a heart swelling up from adoration and pride as Regulus offers a big chunk of his fish and places it onto his brother’s plate.

“You too Reggie!” Sirius does the same with his chicken, generously offering up a portion from his plate. Once the two try a bite of each other’s meal, an explosion of ardour lights up their grey eyes, creating a galaxy of endless constellations in their wake. They are so precious.

Giggling at their antics, you turn to your dish and begin to eat. In all honesty, seeing them enjoying their food for the first time had your stomach already halfway full. So you happily offered a portion of your cottage pie as well. They wanted to say no but you were much too convincing and when they offered a bite of their dishes, you explained that you were already getting full.

They were named after stars but at this moment, their eyes held a galaxy of their own, just from tasting a delicious meal. You want to see them like this all the time…maybe you should begin cooking in the kitchen again? It was a hobby of yours that you enjoyed, baking too but found limited time to partake in it when your business had exponential growth.

Throughout the meal, you often forgot your unfinished plate to be able to tend to your boys. They’re not usually this messy but they were enjoying their food so well that they couldn’t help themselves. They haven’t tasted food this good before!

“You two are so messy,” you joke, giggling to yourself as you reach over with a napkin to wipe at the edges of their mouths while they chew their food. A look of shame crosses their adorable, sweet faces and they slow their mastication, avoiding your gaze.

“Sorry mother,” Regulus apologises meekly as Sirius mutters a similar apology beside him.

“Whatever for?” you pout at them, “I love seeing you enjoying your meals so much,” their expressions relax slightly when they turn to gaze up to witness your kind smile, “maybe I should get a cookbook and begin cooking up some delicious meals at home for you two, hmm?” a wide grin overcomes them, their astonishment quickly washing away from their elation at the prospect.

“Really mother?!” hopefulness makes Regulus’ voice raise an octave higher as Sirius bashfully stares up at you.

“You’d do that?... For us?” Sirius’ voice comes out unusually shy.

“Of course,” you shrug nonchalantly, trying to temper your exuberant grin, “I was getting tired of the dull, tasteless meals anyway,”

The main topic for the next visit was Eeylops Owl Emporium.

In your head, you remember the dark feathered owl Sirius owned in the films who had a horrible habit of biting people. Surely it wouldn’t affect the timeline drastically if you bought a different owl for him. It’s been on your mind how you would like to write letters to Sirius regularly, especially during his first year. You might even convince Regulus to join you so you could send your letters together; you didn’t want your son getting bit every time you wrote a letter to him so you’ll be getting him a different bird for all prospective deliveries.

Upon entering the shop, you encourage your boys to explore and keep a lookout for an owl that would be suitable for Sirius to have for school. In the meantime, you tried to pinpoint the owl with the terrible biting habit so that you may be able to steer Sirius away from ever encountering the bird. You don’t understand why Sirius would have ever decided to get a bird like that in the first place so if he manages to find it before you and decides he wants it, you don’t know how you’ll be able to convince him otherwise—

“That insolent thing bit me!” as the original Walburga’s voice enters your head, an image of the familiar black-feathered owl flashes behind your eyelids.

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

‘The amber-eyed owl, quick as lightning, launches its head forward with a vicious snapping of its beak. Successful in its attack, you reel your arm back – except it’s notyourarm – with a shriek of fright and pain. Upon looking down, you observe the torn fabric of your sleeve as well as the lacerated skin of your arm – still not your arm – which begins to bleed a crimson red. Anger and embarrassment flood your veins as you prepare to curse at the insolent thing but stop when your eyes lock onto the hidden smirk of your eldest son.

“I want that one,” he says, a devious twinkle in his eyes. Before you could protest, his negligent and, often, preoccupied father, steps towards the shop clerk to request the owl for purchase. Orion hadn’t seen the vicious beast attacking you; too eager to return to his work and rushing through the list of school supplies needed for Sirius' first year. The man you call your husband only has himself to blame for waiting so late, only a week was left before Sirius had to depart for Hogwarts but, thankfully, most delivery services didn’t require that long to complete shipment.

“Let's hurry along then,” Orion clicks his tongue in displeasure over the sudden slowing of everyone’s pace, “we must be done by noon, I have better things to be doing!”

˖ ݁𖥔.☁︎.𖥔 ݁ ˖

“Wh-what the–?” blinking rapidly, your vision of the present slowly returns as you reach out to grasp onto something just to steady yourself. Unlike all other squabbles, the original Walburga doesn’t return to elaborate in her screeching voice; she is unusually silent but you’re too dazed to point it out.

You don’t realise what’s happened until you’re flinging your arm back with a sharp cry, cradling your arm to your chest.

“Mother!” Regulus runs up to you with furrowed brows marked by distress, “Are you okay?” he reaches for your arm and you bashfully show him your injury, inflicted onto you by a black-feathered owl. The cheeky thing tilts its head at you as if it’s done nothing wrong and merely proceeds to preen its feathers, unbothered by the whole ordeal – so rude.

“Not that one,” Sirius glares at the malevolent bird, narrow eyes filled with malice before turning to you with a softened look of concern.

“It’s alright my darlings,” you smile reassuringly at them both, “it’s just a scratch, let’s look for a different owl, alright?”

It took a while to calm the boys enough to distract them from the mishap and finally return to the task at hand. You're injured but you, thankfully, didn’t have to do much to convince Sirius about choosing another owl. Only… The fact that your injury looks identical to the one that appeared on the arm of (what you assume) is the original Walburga’s vision, was disconcerting.

You make mental notes of everything that happened in the short period, not wanting to ponder on the sinister details just yet, not when you were having such a fun day with your two boys.

In the end, Sirius settles on a majestic barn owl with beautiful gold and white feathers. The shopkeeper informed you that the owl was a female as he prepared all the additional items you wanted to have with the owl; treats, a small care guide, its cage, water bowl, food bowl, and all of its necessities. You don’t want to acknowledge the shopkeeper’s suspicious gaze as it periodically falls on you. It was beginning to make you feel self-conscious and you’re eager to distract your racing mind. This was probably all original Walburga’s doing. You know how much of a bitch she is but her reputation is proving to be incredibly troublesome when it comes to interacting with other people.

“What will you name her, Sirius?” you ask, hoping your voice doesn’t give away your discomfort. Thankfully, your question is a good distraction for everyone, including the shopkeeper.

“I don’t know…” Sirius ponders to himself, “Maybe… hmmm… Owletta,” he grins cheekily, proud of himself for the creative name. You can already see the marauder in him and it makes you grin as well.

“That sounds very fitting,” you wink at him as Regulus giggles to himself, enjoying the given name as well, “great choice,”

“What happened to the last owl you purchased?” the shopkeeper asks suddenly, finally finished with preparing all the items and eying you warily. You feel Sirius and Regulus’ eyes on you from his question as well and hurry to make an excuse. This situation has grown very uncomfortable.

“Last owl?”

“Yes, the screech owl, from last week,”

“It was for a gift…to a friend,” you smile innocently despite your awkward wording, grateful that the shopkeeper doesn’t ask any further questions although he does appear reluctant to hand over Owletta. But with an impatient flap of her large wings, he hands her over inside her cage. She probably felt the taut tension of indecision in the air far worse than you.

“10 galleons…” you gladly hand over payment and usher your boys out.

This has the original Walburga's name written all over it.

Continuing with the shopping, your next stop was Flourish and Blotts for Sirius’ books. The list of publications needing to be purchased was long, amounting to eight volumes of knowledge ranging from magical creatures to history and magic theory. You were tempted to read through the books yourself and learn a thing or two but didn’t want to appear lacking. As unfortunate as it is, you’re supposed to be the Walburga Black, a very proud, ‘high-class’ witch within the wizarding world, meaning that you had to be proficient in, at least, 1st year of wizarding knowledge.

Fortunately, there was an owl delivery option for the books, which saves you from carrying the heavy load but you’re beginning to feel sad for the poor owls subjected to delivering such a package. Not only that but you worried for your poor Sirius’ little shoulders and arms having to carry around those heavy books at Hogwarts. You hope to god there’s a magic bag that could carry many things without transferring the weight onto you. From the books and the delivery fee, everything costs 14 galleons in total.

It wasn’t listed on the official school supplies list but you had the foresight to go to Scribbulus Writing Instruments to buy an assortment of inks, quills and parchment. Sirius and Regulus were fascinated by the colour-changing inks available, some transitioning between two to three colours and some cycling through much more. At first, you found it odd that they hadn’t encountered such a simple and commonplace magical item before until you remembered their parents and all the unfortunate implications that came with that realisation. It made your fists clench in anger and had you impulsively buying a small pot of each colour-changing ink to the surprise and subsequent delight of your two boys.

“Y-you didn’t have to do that Mother,” Regulus comments shyly with a soft pink glow dusting his cheeks as he cradles a small pot of colour-changing ink in his little hands. That particular one was his favourite, if you remember correctly, it transitioned through an array of blue hues. He looks so adorable; you don’t know how you were able to resist reaching down to pinch at his pudgy cheeks.

“Of course, I had to,” you huff with a playful sternness before leaning down and bringing them in close to whisper for their ears only, it was as if you were telling a century-old secret. Intrigued by your actions, they lean in with rounded eyes of wonder, “But promise not to tell your father, he doesn’t deserve to know about our secret ink stash,” Sirius grins mischievously as Regulus' cheeks dimple. Nodding firmly at each other, your agreement was sealed and the three of you continued with your shopping spree.

The next stop was Potage’s Cauldron Shop, where you purchased a small cauldron before getting potioneer equipment and a telescope from Wisearce’s Wizardry Equipment. Again, like all the shops before, it was incredibly touching to be able to see your son's eyes sparkle in fascination and wonderment. You can practically hear their thoughts. Even though Regulus has to wait another year before he can attend Hogwarts, they’re both glowing with enthusiasm and alacrity to learn and experience something new. It just makes your heart ache a little over how you’re going to be mostly absent from that venture, seeing as Hogwarts is a boarding school. In the meantime, you’ll savour having them with you now and spending the little time you have with Sirius worthwhile and carry that on with Regulus while his older brother is at school creating chaos with the rest of the marauders.

Sirius’ assortment of school equipment was quickly piling up and so was his excitement. It was an excitement that proved to be very contagious as Regulus stood to his right, absorbing the delight that flowed from him in wave after beautiful wave. Seeing such precious smiles on their faces, it was hard to believe that the first day or so was filled with them fixing you with permanent scowls or passive expressions that were too mature and ill-suited to their youthful faces. These gorgeous smiles suited them a lot more… and you want to keep it that way.

Stepping back out onto the cobblestone streets, you look around with your mental list of shops that still need visiting but find your gaze stopping on the sign of a quaint, unassuming shop dubbed ‘Belby’s Potions and Ingredients’. You don’t remember ever hearing of a shop like this being in Diagon Alley but that’s to be expected, the world building wasn’t very expansive in the Harry Potter movies or books when it came to Diagon Alley, and this is without considering that you were in a different era of the Harry Potter Universe. You’ve already come across some shops that you’ve never heard of before but sit comfortably, right at home, amongst the other recognisable shops in the district; this one in particular shouldn't strike you as so intriguing.

“Is that where we’re going next, mother?” Sirius speaks up, snapping you out of your dazed state.

Smiling shyly, you make a small confession, “It’s not part of the list, I’m just hoping for a little detour to get you familiar with potion ingredients before school," you skillfully fib, "is that okay with you boys?” asking for their opinion and giving them a choice to agree or disagree always seemed to make them happy. It’s a freedom and a luxury, that they were rarely given when under the real Walburga’s ‘care’ so they were more than happy to oblige.

“Of course that’s alright,” Regulus looks past the skirt of your black dress to meet eyes with his brother, “right, Sirius?”

“Yeah!” grinning happily, they hold your hands in their much smaller ones and start pulling you along to the shop, their enthusiasm making appear like normal, happy kids, “let’s go, mother!”

Looking up at the sign once more, you allow your curiosity to spring forward. Indeed, you can’t recognise this shop before your transfer into the Harry Potter, Marauders era universe but the name ‘Belby’ definitely piqued your interest. It’s on the tip of your tongue but you couldn’t quite place where you recognise the name.

Entering the shop, you were presently enticed by the entirely separate atmosphere it presented. Unlike most of the other shops that were, either, barely lit or bursting with colour, the atmosphere of this shop was remarkably serene. It was pleasant. A good change of pace. Switching from two extremes of decoration, it was relieving to finally find one that danced in the middle, leaning towards an aesthetic that was homey and unsophisticated.

Your two boys were quick to begin surveying the shelves of products themselves - a library of carefully crafted potions and their ingredients. It was clear that they too, were welcomed and put at ease by the cottage-core aesthetic of the dwelling. There were dried bunches of flora hanging from the walls and ceiling, some with cute blossoms, frozen in their prime, whilst other herbage sported brittle stems and frail, veiny leaves. The colours of the ingredients and tightly packed potions meticulously measured into phials were somewhat muted but in a very pretty sense. It was like opening a beloved, ageing book and diving into its wondrous, antiquated tales, freckled with wise passages that transcend all time and languages. The shop was very small but also very charming and well-loved; you felt right at home.

As your two boys weave through the isles of merchandise, a genial voice calls out to you, “Welcome to Belby’s Potions and Ingredients, I’m Damocles Belby, how can I help you today?” at the front counter, you observe a man in his mid-thirties with a full beard and moustache framing a no-eye smile. Slowly easing himself out of his merry greeting, his eyelids unfurl to reveal a beautiful pair of honey-amber eyes. He looks kind; his affable demeanour is just as welcoming as his cosy shop.

“Hello sir,” you hope your smile conveys, at least, half of the warmth of his own, “I’m just taking a look around, thank you,” he gives a soft ‘ahh’ of acknowledgement before nodding, “My two boys are also around here somewhere. My eldest son will be starting his first year at Hogwarts next month so I wanted him to get a little familiar with the potion ingredients he’ll be encountering at school,”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Damocles grins in approval, chuckling to himself at your chest swelling with pride for your son, “what is your son’s name?”

“Sirius Black,” you announce fondly, the friendly atmosphere coming to a screeching halt when realisation washes over Damocles’ features. The once cordial air has plunged to freezing temperatures within seconds, prickling your skin with goosebumps.

“M-madam Black,” he greets formally with a bow of his head. It’s clear that Walburga’s reputation is notoriously menacing but you’re not her and you kindly ask that he refrain from such discretionary (in your eyes) behaviour.

“I’m simply a mother to my sons and a wife to my husband,” a disgusting, pile of shit that’s a complete waste of oxygen, who doesn’t deserve the title of father or husband, “that is all,” your answer doesn’t soothe him as you’d hoped it would but your attentions are soon required elsewhere when you’re both drawn to an even cosier corner of the store.

Led there by the whisperings of your two sons, both accompanied by a tired yet melodious voice, you are greeted with the most charming sight — your boys sitting at the foot of a rocking chair, where a frail but equally kind-looking woman slumps into, her pale blue eyes shining with fondness at them as she embroiders a shimmering pink thread into a plain square of cloth in her lap. She’s dressed modestly, with her top hiding her arms in long lantern sleeves as her collar stretches up her neck. The long skirt of her dress looks layered, puffing up at the sides of her seat and what little skin you would have seen at her ankles are covered in thick socks. You wonder if she’s cold at all. Or maybe she’s just a very unobtrusive person with a likeness for coquettish and demure fashions.

“How do you know how to make the flowers if you don’t draw them first?” Regulus asks, peering over her lap in an attempt to catch sight of her work between her elegantly working hands.

Sirius nods and adds to the conversation with his question, “Yeah, and why aren’t you using magic like everyone else?”

“It comes with a lot of practice,” she answers your baby first before turning to your slightly older baby, “and I do it because I enjoy embroidering; besides…” she turns her work over to them, allowing you a glimpse of her masterpiece as well, “it always looks prettier when I embroider it myself,” your two boys ‘ooo~’ and ‘aaah~’ at her work. The interaction draws a soft giggle from you while the shopkeeper beside you sighs quietly – he sounds relieved.

“Are you feeling better, my dear?” Damocles steps up to his wife, placing one hand on the head of the cane that’s kept beside her rocking chair. His other hand reaches up to curl his fingers into a shy ringlet of her blonde hair. They are a loving couple, a 'one true pair'.

“Mr Belby, you need to stop being such a worrier,” his wife chides playfully at him, abandoning her embroidery to smile lovingly at her husband, “and besides, there’s nothing for you to fret about when I’m around such good company,” her comment makes you smile widely, proud that your two boys were growing a reputation of their own, ones separate from the infamous Black family. You can handle the stares and uncomfortable accommodations for your prominence but you wouldn't stand for them to experience it too.

“Right, of course,” Damocles nods with a short but airy chuckle and nods at the boys thankfully when they shuffle their way back to you. Sirius and Regulus had never seen such an affectionate couple before; their parents weren’t like that. And, although they wish they could grow up under such a soft and healthy model of love, they know that it wouldn’t be possible; to them, mothers and fathers don’t normally show affection for each other and that was how it was going to stay between their parents. There was no use in hoping.

“You must be these two young men’s mother,” Damocles’ wife meets your gaze and smiles, her beauty unable to be masked by her pronounced ailment, “My name is Ruth Belby, I see you’ve already met my worry-wart of a husband,” the two of you share a laugh before you’re able to introduce yourself as well. Unlike her spouse, Ruth's first reaction was not fear but rather surprise, an astonishment that quickly melted into a soft smile.

“You two have a very lovely shop,” Sirius and Regulus nod eagerly by your sides, agreeing with your comment, “it’s so much cosier than all the other shops around here,”

Damocles’ expression softens, his eyes mirroring sweet honey before he presses a kiss to his wife’s temple, “It’s all because of my wife’s keen eye, I catered this place solely for her palates’ enjoyment,”

“I’m very lucky in that sense,” Ruth’s twinkling laugh rings out as quickly as it gives way to a coughing fit. It sounds as though she’s trying to hack up a serrated knife, the sound of it making all witnesses' hearts shake with panic except for Damocles', who rushes about to quell her discomfort. He hides his worries well. His expression is completely neutral as he offers her a crisp glass of water, however, his other hand reveals his true sentiments – his true fretfulness. As soon as she's had her fill of the glass, Damocles offers up a phial of magenta liquid that you’re all too familiar with, “darling, there’s no need for that,” Ruth’s nose scrunches up at the appearance of the healing potion.

“It’s for your own good, please Ruth. I only want for you to feel better, my dear,” she grumbles and whines but eventually gulps down the healing potion, taking a moment to get over the ghastly taste before changing the topic. Your eyes fall onto her with sympathy. That potion is truly disgusting.

“That’s enough about me, I hear that this young man is going to be attending Hogwarts,” Ruth gestures to Sirius as you fondly bring up a hand to comb your fingers through his perfectly permed hair.

“Yes, he’s growing up far too quickly…” you hum, melancholic despite only being with your newly acquired sons for a little over a week. Sirius’ ears tint a soft pink and he shyly peeks up at you with pouting lips.

“Growing up is normal…” he utters like a grump.

“I know,” you sigh in gentle acceptance, “but I quite like you as you are right now,” Sirius’ eyes widen in disbelief and his cheeks burn as pink as his ears. It’s an expression that makes you smile warmly, you like the appearance of it on him, he needs to express it more often, “I want you to stay like this with me just a little bit longer, is that too much to ask?”

“...not really,” you didn’t expect him to answer but it was in a whisper so you had to lean down ever so slightly to hear him clearer, “I’ll try to stay like this a little longer for you…if you want,” his comment, heard by you and Ruth, have you both cooing at him as Regulus grins hard enough for his dimples to show again; his older brother’s rose-red face is so funny to look at!

When it comes time for you, Regulus and Sirius to leave, you thought it would just be a regular goodbye but not for your two boys. They've made good friends with the couple, especially Ruth so a memorable adieu was in order.

Regulus bows to Ruth like a true gentleman while Sirius places a small kiss on her knuckles, whereby he then turns to his younger brother and says verbatim: that’s how a true gentleman bids farewell to a beautiful lady. The gesture of your eldest made Damocles’ eyes bulge out as Ruth laughed aloud, her shoulders shaking as her eyes lit up in glee. It's a relief that she didn't have a coughing fit this time. You, yourself, don’t know why you were so surprised. It appears as though Sirius’ philanderer ways didn’t start in Hogwarts; he already had the potential even before attending the boarding school.

With another wave of your hand and a glance over your shoulder, you leave the couple whilst leading your two boys to the door in front of you.

It was then that you saw it…

In Ruth, you saw your past self. It was like looking into a mirror, a mirror into the past where you couldn’t have children no matter how desperately you wanted to have ones of your own. Like you, she probably had a list of names picked out in her head already. Like you, she probably pictured their innocent, beautiful faces in the appearance of other children. Like you, she envied the mothers who were able to conceive and desperately wished for a miracle to happen only for that miracle to never materialise. It was a mix of hopeless yearning and doleful forbearance. From your peripheral, you discern a similar impression on Damocles as he stands beside his ill-stricken wife.

Damocles Belby… why does that name sound so familiar to you?

The boys did so well today. It was long and arduous and you could see the sun beginning to set, however, it’s never too late for–

“Ice cream?” Regulus asks with glittering grey eyes.

“We can have two scoops each,” you announce, eager to reward yourself as well, “we deserve something delicious for our hard work today,” Regulus was bouncing on the soles of his feet, something both you and Sirius noticed.

“You can go first Reggie,” Sirius smiles at his little brother, who turns to you with pleading eyes.

“Can I choose my flavours myself?” he asks to which you smile and nod. Eagerly, he looks through the collection of available ice cream and decides to go for, “one scoop of strawberry and peanut butter, and one scoop of apple crumble please,” he seems proud of his order and is soon savouring it with the happiest expression on his face. It’s unexpected but he, undoubtedly, has a sweet tooth. A studious, quiet boy with a secret love for sweet things - how charming and precious.

“Can I have one scoop of the clotted cream, and one scoop of the sticky toffee pudding please,” just like Regulus, Sirius was soon delving into his ice cream too, both teetering on the edge of wanting to devour the rare, cold treat whilst also trying to make it last as long as possible. You giggle at their antics briefly before ordering your own two scoops from the same vendor who smiles at you kindly. In his gaze and wrinkled but dexterous fingers, familiar and elegant with their motions, express a love for his craft and a love for those who show their appreciation of it – the simple act of enjoying their ice cream was payment enough to him.

“Thank you kindly, sir,”

“Not at all mam, enjoy yer ice creams,” the man offers a slight tip of his head upon accepting payment.

On a nearby bench, Sirius, Regulus and you sit quietly together and finish your doubly topped cones, taking the time to observe passing wizards and witches while enjoying the little time you have left of your day out shopping. You don’t think the day could have gone any better, and Sirius and Regulus don’t think anything would be able to transcend the fun they’ve had.

Meeting each other’s eyes, Sirius and Regulus silently agree that today has been the best day they’ve ever had, not knowing that you have plenty of great days lined up for them.

NEXT. | 04 : ... → | SERIES M.LIST

A/N : it's finally here, my promised, final update before i go on my hiatus. i'm sorry it took me so long to get out to you darlings. after my indefinite hiatus announcement, i got really busy. however, i'm sure you darlings would be happy to know that my situation has gotten better. it's not to the point that i feel like i can comfortably write but i'm definitely getting there so i can confidently say that I can see myself returning from my hiatus later on this year. in the mean time, i hope you darlings enjoy this chapter and please take care! i love you all so much and i'll see you soon x

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#sirius black #marauders #regulus black #sirius black fanfiction #regulus black fanfiction #the marauders era #marauders era #marauders fanfiction #marauders fandom #dob series #Divorcing Orion Black series #walburga black #mother reader #isekai #fix it fic #marauders fix it fic

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jup1ter33 · 3 days

Text

Boothill headcannons

sfw + nsfw! 🔞 brings up his past so be prepared to hear about that😥

sfw

he is so goofy with you, always bickering and starting something just to get on your nerves.

he means no harm though, just playful banter.

he's a wee bit touch starved, so he adores it when he can hold you and kiss you

no body better try and hurt you unless they'd like a bullet between the eyes from him.

he has no problem firing his gun at anyone who dares to hurt you, whats a few more credits on his bounty??

when you first learned about what happened on his home planet, you didn't know how to respond. you could see the pain in his eyes, but he would try and dismiss it.

that same night, he ended up bawling his eyes out on your shoulder. the words "I miss my baby... my daughter." spouted from his lips. he was sure that he couldn't cry anymore, but with you, he felt such security, a safe haven for himself.

he'd have nightmares often. he'd abandon his charging station to come lay with you clutching you to his chest in fear that he'd loose you too.

but moments with boothill are rarely sad. In fact, he's typically enthusiastic and playful with you.

he's a charmer, calling you cute names and what-not.

he'd remove his hat and place it on your head while he kisses you.

being a galaxy ranger, he would often have to leave for weeks at a time. he'd give you a piece of his clothes, or a pin off his jacket, or some flowers before he left. he'd give you a deep hug, resting his head ontop of yours and taking in your scent before he has to leave.

on his trips he'd send you photos of the scenery, or some cool monuments, or anything he'd think would interest you.

he'd text you good morning and good night every day, saying how he misses you

on those days where he gets back in the middle of the night, he'd find you sleeping in the bed on his side, the blankets pulled up to your chin.

he's quietly snuggle his way in, cradling you in his arms.

buttttt, when he gets back in the morning, you better be ready to go out and have some fun.

he'll give you a gift he picked out for you, take you out drinking or to some random restaurant. sure, he'd get stares, but he didn't care.

he's so good with kids, he plays with them all the time and scolds them when they've been naughty.

he used to play guitar with his little girl, but now that his hands are metal, he has trouble getting his fingers to press on the fret board correctly:(

nsfw

oh boy, be prepared to hear this man

he's so whiny, he whimpers and moans so loud.

one of his absolute favorite things is to eat you out. the only human part of him left is his face, so being burried in between your thigh, your warm cunt pressed against his mouth, he can feel so much of it. it sends his fans whirling from the feeling of skin-to-skin.

and the pet names, he never runs out of them. darlin', sweetheart, buttercup, the list goes on and on.

because of his synestheisa beacon, it's hard for him to give you really any degrading words.

"T-take it like the cutie you are..."

he ends up getting frustrated and decides that maybe until he can get that solved, he won't use those words on you.

wondering how his dick works? yeah me too.

he'd probably have a silicone skin layer underneath his metal "armor" so I'd assume that his girth would be made of that. (there's no way it's metal that would be torture 😭)

boothills hair is sensitive, like before, his head is the only human part of him left. giving him a good tug makes him groan and jolt.

manhandles you. not exactly intentionally, but because of his cyborg body, it's hard for him to remember that he's alot tougher than you are, and he doesn't mean it in a way that your weak, (because your not) but because he simply gets so worked up he accidently will toss you around a bit.

he's had his fair share of experience, mostly before be was a cyborg, so he'll test things out on you.

he'll watch and see if your reaction to his metallic fingers prodding at your hole, would his fingers be too hard for your liking? would they be too big? he'd be observant in the way he works thru things with you.

until he met you, he didn't know that this charging port was a little sensitive.

he was being rough with you, as a result, your arms wrapped around his body in pleasure, clawing at his back. on accident, your fingers slipped into the charging port on his lower back, and he came on the spot.

he was soooooooo embarrassed.

"i-i...darlin' I didn't know that could even happen to me..." You assured him that it was fine, and that it was rather hot.

he'll find himself on his hands and knees, his port being teased from your Skillful hands and he melts. he whimpers and moans so loud, already on his 3 orgasm.

kinda hard to overstim him, he doesn't feel alot through his metallic skin, but if you make him cum a few times, he gets so whiny and needy.

he's mostly a top, he prefers to have you wrapped around his finger. literally.

but in the case that he decided to be a bottom, he cries your name, telling you how good it feels, how much he loves you, all the things he wants to do to you. he really can't shut up.

after you two finish, he lays next to you for a moment, allowing his fans to cool his overheating body down, and for you to regain your breath.

"so...how'd I do?" He'd ask with a cheek grin on his face. he knows he did good, but he wants to hear it straight from you.

he'll run you a shower or bath, whichever you prefer. but since he doesn't exactly need to shower (and it makes him rust) he'll stay on the outside. helping you with whatever you'd need.

and while your busy washing up, he'll clean off himself with his cleaning kit, oil his fingers and joints, make sure he didn't screw up his alignment.

once you're done, he won't allow you to lift a finger. he'll change the sheets, get you food or a drink, dress you, help you with your skincare, everything. since his body is robotic, he can just charge and won't get sore. he wants to make sure that he didn't mess you up too badly.

once everything is done, he'll lay you in bed ever-so gently.

he'll cuddle up next to you, burrowing his face into your chest, listening for your heartbeat. yes, it brings him pain that he no longer has a beating heart, but as long as he can lay with you and hear yours, to know you're safe, all is well.

#genshin #boothill #honkai star rail imagines #honkai x reader #hsr fanfic #boothill smut #hsr smut

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headkiss · 3 days

Note

hellooo for the summer asks I was wondering about our boy Eddie and going to the beach with him and feeling insecure about our body, but ofc he’s a sweetie so he makes us feel better 🥹 just some hurt/comfort my love 🫶

thank u so so much for ur request baby!!! ily i hope this is okay <3 | 0.8k of fluff, tw for problems with body image

The sun beams harshly on your shoulders from your spot on the sand, a towel serving as the only cushion beneath you, eyes squinted behind your sunglasses.

In a rare instance, the group’s schedules have all lined up and given you the same day off, and immediately, that meant packing up Eddie’s van full to the brim with coolers and towels and more people than seats and driving to the beach.

The drive had been a blast, Steve and Eddie arguing steadily over what music to play, Robin egging them on even though she’d dance along to anything. Eddie’s hand had been a comforting weight on your thigh the entire ride.

Now, hours of sun and swims later, hair messy from the wind and water, cooler much emptier than it had been earlier, you’re watching the gang play volleyball (you say this loosely, because there’s no net nor is there an established court).

It’s fun, to be a part of a group of friends this way, to watch such an uncoordinated game where everyone is smiling and having fun despite there being competition involved.

You’re having fun, too, laughing every time Eddie trips or winks at you and says “this one’s for you” before hitting the ball in a random direction. Then, there’s the way Steve calls “mine!” every time the ball comes anywhere near his side of the ‘court,’ even when Robin was even closer, prompting them to start bickering.

So really, it should be all light and easy. A relaxing day at the beach with your favorite people. And it is, until it isn’t.

One second, you’d been smiling at the game, shifting your sunglasses off of your eyes and using them as some sort of headband instead. The next, your eyes were wandering around the beach and noticing everyone else.

Noticing the way the other people around looked. Girls brilliantly tanned in their triangle bikinis, denim shorts fitting them perfectly. Or the guys in their swim trunks and how carefree they look.

You can’t help but see everything they are that you aren’t. Or, that you don’t believe you are.

Things like this creep up on you in funny ways. Like a chill that just passes through, sudden and unavoidable. A simple thought snowballing into a hundred small ones shaped like arrows aiming towards yourself.

You shift to cross your arms over the soft of your exposed stomach, suddenly wishing you’d brought more than a tank top to cover up with.

Eddie snaps you out of your thoughts with a call of “you sure you don’t wanna join, sweetheart?”

You muster a halfhearted smile as you shake your head. “I’m okay.”

The two words are enough to tell Eddie that you aren’t exactly okay at the moment. Your smile not reaching your eyes the way it should, that line between your eyebrows worried the way it shouldn’t.

When you aren’t looking, he signals Argyle over to take his spot in the game and jogs over to you, sitting down next to you and nudging your shoulder with his. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing, Eds. You didn’t have to stop playing,” you say, though you can't deny that the warmth of his arm brushing yours feels nice.

“Hey, look at me,” he urges you gently, his knuckles catching your chin to nudge your face up to his. “It’s just me. You can say it.”

“It’s silly,” you shrug. Eddie pins you with a look that says ‘try me,’ and because he’s the sweet boyfriend he is and because you trust him and love him, you do. “I just- I looked around and just noticed all these people and the way they look and I’m not-”

“Sweetheart,” he stops you, his voice painfully soft. His brown eyes even more so, shining in the late afternoon sun. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m not just sayin’ that. I mean, you’ve seen the boners you give me, so…”

“Eddie,” you scrunch your nose and slap his chest lightly, though you’re fighting back a smile.

“I’m serious. Look at me compared to these people, babe. I look different, too. I’m not ripped or anything, and I’m pale as fuck. Like, ghost-level.”

You look at him, the frizzy curls framing his face and the curve of his cupid’s bow, to the tattoos dotting his skin and how his abs are just barely visible beneath the soft of his tummy. The way his cheeks and chest are a little pink from the sun. He’s perfect to you. For you.

“I think you’re pretty, Eds.”

“Well I think you’re fucking pretty, too, sweetheart. That’s my point,” his arm slings itself around your shoulders, tugging you into his side, uncaring of the heat or whether or not you’re sweaty. “Different doesn’t mean bad. It just means different. And I love you and your different, okay?”

You like the way he says it, like it’s a fact, like he’s never once thought otherwise. You like the way he trails his fingertips up and down your arm, too, like it’s an instinct.

And, well, when he dips down to kiss you all sweet and slow and sure, you think it’s the prettiest you’ve ever felt.

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writerslittlelibrary · 3 days

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Can you dim the world...?

masterlist

summary: you go shopping with your mom but the store overwhelms you

pairing: Natasha x autistic daughter reader

warnings: autistic reader getting overstimulated at a grocery store

genre: fluff

words: 963

a/n: this is pretty much what I experience when I go to any big grocery store, and I wish I had Nat as my mom to help me :( (friendly reminder that this is how my autism works, so if it doesn’t relate to you then it doesn’t mean it’s inaccurate representation)

You do not have my permission to repost, copy or translate my work

|——————————— ⴵ ———————————|

When Natasha had asked you whether or not you wanted to join her in going to the store, you had excitedly told her yes, wanting to spend time with her. However, now that you were standing in the grocery store you regretted that decision big time.

The drive towards the store had been fun. You and Natasha had been singing along to the new album of Taylor Swift, and Natasha had promised to get ice cream after the shopping had been done.

Once you got to the store, things hadn’t been that bad. Sure, the lights were a bit bright, and the people were a bit loud, but it wasn’t terrible.

You had started to zone out at the cheese section, waiting at the cart while Natasha picked a pack of sliced cheese. She had to get the right brand, otherwise it would taste different than what you liked, and Natasha knew you hated when things tasted different than what you were used to.

Natasha had thrown the packet of cheese into the cart, and while doing so she had checked her grocery list, giving you an instruction to go grab something.

You hadn’t heard her, too focused on the store workers standing at the sliced meat isle where they talked and laughed while restocking everything.

“Are you okay…?” you suddenly heard your mom say, snapping you out of your daydreaming.

You blinked a few times before looking at Natasha, nodding.

She looked at you sceptically, knowing that when you were nodding you were indeed not okay. You going mute was always the first thing to happen when you were getting overstimulated.

“We just have to get a few more things, okay baby? We’ll be quick,” your mom reassured you, making sure not to touch you, wanting to prevent you from getting overstimulated faster.

Once you were getting overwhelmed with sounds, you would start zoning out, staring at people around you or focusing on a single spot. Then you would get overstimulated by all the people around you, fiding all your surroundings too busy. Then, usually following that you would completely break down at everything that was touching you.

Natasha knew all your signs, knew every step that your spiralling would take.

She was quick to grab all the stuff that you guys came for, leaving you at the cart, not giving you any instructions nor really talking to you.

Once everything was paid for Natasha took the cart from you, loading everything up into the car while you went and sat down in it. She brought the cart back before sitting next to you, waiting a moment with starting the car.

“Would you like it to be quiet for a moment?” Natasha asked you, waiting patiently on your nod or head shake.

Once you nodded Natasha leaned back into her chair, turning slightly to grab something from the backseat. When she turned back she handed you your favourite drink and your comfort snack, allowing you two to sit in silence for a while.

After about 10 minutes, when you finished your snack and were slowly sipping your drink, you reached for the buttons in the car, pressing play on the song you were listening to before you two entered the store. Natasha smiled as she started the car, knowing you were calming down. She knew you were probably not going to speak for another couple of minutes, sometimes even hours, but she knew you weren’t getting overstimulated by your surroundings anymore.

“Would you still like to get ice cream, or do it tonight or tomorrow?” Natasha asked you, knowing that giving you the reassurance of getting the ice cream, no matter when, would allow you to choose whatever you were comfortable with.

You shook your head ‘no,’ letting Natasha know that you didn’t want to get ice cream right now.

She nodded and focused on the road again, taking a detour, knowing you would calm down from the driving in the car while listening to music. Natasha learned that very early on when she found out it was the only way to calm you down when you were throwing a tantrum as a kid. She now knew you never threw a tantrum to be annoying. You merely did it because you didn’t know how to express yourself and handle your own feelings.

Natasha glanced at you, sighing. She wished so deeply that she was able to understand you earlier in life. You had been such a difficult child, and it turned out that was only because no one understood you.

After driving for about an hour, Natasha pulled the car into the driveway, letting you sit in the car to process everything while she went and got all the groceries inside.

Once she returned, you had already opened your car door and you were now sitting with your legs outside of the car, zoned out. Your mom walked up to you, crouching down in front of you and placing her hand on your knee.

“I’ve already, put the water on, and I figured we could have some tea or hot chocolate and maybe draw for a bit?” Natasha asked you, waiting patiently for your nod. She knew you would never say no to that.

You two went inside where you found the drawing supplies already on the table. Natasha must have placed them on there while you were still in the car.

You two spent a nice, quiet evening. You hadn’t much, and neither had Natasha. You simply sat in silence, enjoying each other's comfort. You knew the world would most likely always be too much for you to handle, but you also knew that as long as your mama was around, she would always make the world a bit more bearable.

(I’m so sorry I suck at endings)

Hello lovelies. As you may have noticed I haven’t been posting as often as I usually do. I’ve been overwhelmed, tired with life and basically just downright depressed. At the moment I just feel like dying, so if you noticed the lack of fics you now know the reason. I will try to stay active, but I probably won’t post as often (or maybe I will, idk, I’m a very unpredictable person and my mood swings are insane)

Permanent tags: @marvelnatasha12346 @lesbionion @nova-kyle @darkstar225 @saraaahsstuff @marvelwomenarehot0 @screechcat @iheartjohansson @tia-thesimp @swaqcenix @karmasgxrl @marvel-lous3000 @hor1zond1ar1es @lorsstar1st @superlegend216 @ravensinthedaylight

#black widow #marvel #natasha x reader #mcu #natasha romanoff #marvel reader insert #natasha x daughter #avengers #natasha x reader platonic #natasha #natasha romanov #natasha romanoff x daughter #natasha romanoff x reader platonic #natasha romanoff x reader #mom!natasha romanoff #mom!natasha #natasha romanoff x teen reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x female

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vivwritesfics · 3 days

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Slow Down, You're Gonna Crash

Chapter Five

Summary: Being a Verstappen means realising that you'll never be as good as her brother. She knew it. That was why she ran away to California. Of course, she's gonna fall for the older, naval aviator. And, of course, it pisses her family off.

Bradley Bradshaw x F1!Driver Reader

Warnings: Mentions of child abuse (no description), throw up (bc i need that warning lmao)

Series Masterlist

Bahrain. The season opener. And she had no idea. After her call with Logan she’d stayed away from all things racing. She’d have given anything to be driving the number fifty three car around that track and couldn’t face the fact that she wasn’t.

Max had tried to call her, but she ignored it. She was having far too much fun with Rooster and his friends to speak to her brother.

She’d never had a beach day like this. It was the sort of environment she’d never been in before, where everyone was just friends. They weren’t insanely competitive (at least, not in the way she and the people she’d grown up with were), and there wasn’t the feeling of dread that one of your friends could have your career ripped away from you and placed into their own hands at any moment.

No, the beach day with the Dagger Squad was actually fun. She hadn’t packed for her trip across the United States with the beach in mind, but Natasha had been kind enough to let her borrow something to wear. As the day got hotter she wore her old team hat, complete with her driver number. There wasn’t anything much more embarrassing than that.

If the Squad thought anything of it, they kept their opinions to themselves. No, she genuinely had fun.

Days like this with Jos Verstappen as your father were few and far between. Any spare moment growing up was spent racing or training. Even as the golden child, Max didn't get any reprieve. But Jos seemed to hate her more than anything.

(Maybe it was because he was stuck with her. She'd been taken from her mother who was deemed unfit to parent and left in his care. How he was considered good enough to look after two children, she'd never know).

(She and her mother had reconnected just before her first season, but they'd never gotten close).

When the Squad started a game of football, she'd shaken her head, insisting that she was happy watching. Besides, she didn't know how to play American football, her only experience was having footballs thrown at her before the race in Miami.

But they insisted. Bradley had taken her hands and pulled her to her feet, but she was quick to sit back down. And, when that happened, he threw her over his shoulder. She shrieked and pounded her fists against his back, but her uncontrollable laughter gave everything away.

He put her down between Bob, Nat, and Mickey. "You okay?" He asked, searching her face for any sign of discomfort.

But she was grinning ear to ear as she said, "Yeah, Roos. I'm okay."

He joined Jake, Javy and Rueben across from them, and the game began.

As it turns out, navy pilots are incredibly competitive. But that was good. Because she was, too. But they weren't competitive in the way that she was. It wasn't treated like life or death with them, not like it was growing up trying to get into racing. They wanted to beat each other but just because it was fun.

Not because they were afraid of what their dad would do if they lost.

To the Squad, the way she avoided the ball was hilarious. But then the ball landed in her hands. With wide eyes, she turned towards Bob. "What do I do?" She asked in a panic.

Bradley, Jake, Javy and Rueben were all racing towards her. This was maybe the most terrifying moment of her life (psych, it wasn't even close).

"Run!" Bob cried. So she did just that.

She tucked the football beneath her arm and ran. As it turns out, she was only fast on the racetrack. She didn't get very far, not before Bradley wrapped his strong arms around her middle and lifted her off the ground.

"Bradley!" She shrieked and tried to throw the ball to Nat.

The game was forgotten to the two of them as the others continued playing. "Not bad," he mused as she turned in his arms. That smirk played on his lips, the tantalising one that had drawn her in in the first place. "Are you sure your only sport is driving?"

"Racing," she corrected as she pushed at his chest. But she didn't put much effort into it, not quite ready to leave his arms. "Well, if my career doesn't get back on track, I'm sure I could try out for the New York Dolphins."

A groan left his lips and his head fell forward. "You're killing me here, baby," he mumbled and pressed his lips against her own.

A few beers later, as the sun set on a perfect day, Bradley led her back to the Bronco. "Can I drive?" She asked a sober Bradley, wearing a smile that was all too convincing.

"Three beers and you think you're ready for the Bronco? Someone needs to learn to handle their drink," he said, voice teasing as he pulled her around to the passenger side. Bradley kept a hold of her hand as she climbed in. As soon as she was sat, she swivelled in her seat to face him and pulled his aviators from his face.

He didn't look at her with annoyance, as she had been expected as she put the sunglasses on. No, the expression he wore was full of fondness. "You had a good day, kid?"

The nickname was affectionate, fort he times he was feeling soft with her. It was his favourite of the bunch, the one that had a dopey smile crossing her face. "Yeah," she said, leaning to the side and letting her head fall against the seat. "I like your friends."

He pushed her legs around so that she was facing forwards. "They like you too," he said, gently pulling the aviators from her face and placing them back on his own.

He climbed into the other side of the Bronco and began driving. As soon as they were on the road, heading back to his, she took the hand closest to her and put it on her thigh, a satisfied hum leaving her lips. "There," she mumbled, placing her hand on top of his own.

"You okay?" He asked again, and she nodded. He'd never seen her so quiet before. It was a new side of her, one he didn't exactly mind. But, then again, he so far loved all sides of her. "Jake said they're gonna keep the party going in The Hard Deck. D'you wanna join them?"

Again, she nodded. "Okay, kid," he said softly as he pulled into the driveway. "Let's get some food in you, first."

It was a pleasant evening with Bradley before they headed out to The Hard Deck. But, then again, most evenings with Bradley were pleasant. She showered and got changed while he stood in the kitchen, making her something to eat, dressed in nothing but his beach shorts.

it was a quick turn around, her getting showered and changed. As soon as she was dressed she silently padded into the kitchen and wrapped her arms around him. The smell of the sea air lingered on his skin. Heaven.

It was a simple dinner, but Bradley made the portions larger than she thought possible. She couldn't finish it all, and that was okay. After he'd eaten, Bradley jumped in the shower and got dressed into one of his signature Hawaiian shirts.

"Feeling slightly more sober?" He had asked as he pulled her up from the couch. She nodded but Bradley shook his head. "Words, baby."

She rolled her eyes. "Yeah, Roo. I promise you I'm feeling a lot more sober." She muttered something in a language he didn't understand, something that had her giggling. At her giggles, Bradley pinched her sides. But he took her hand and led her out to the Bronco.

Her first reminder of the opening race that she was missing came the moment they walked into The Hard Deck. She spotted four screens, one on every wall. It had to be some sort of joke.

"No way," said Bradley, pointing at the first screen he saw.

She said nothing as she sat at the bar and ordered a drink. She kept her eyes on the wood of the counter top as Bradley sat beside her. The rest of the Dagger Squad were gathered around the pool table, but she couldn't face them in that moment. She couldn't face anyone.

"Which one is your brother?" Bradley asked.

Penny placed her drink down in front of her and she finished it in one go. It wasn't glamorous. She slammed the glass down onto the counter top with enough force to break it. It was a miracle it didn't shatter. "The one in front," she spat, and he turned his attention back to the television.

It was a little jarring, hearing the commentary of David Croft in a place so far removed from racing. It went a shudder down her spine as she ordered another drink.

She didn't have much else after that. It didn't feel right to be ordering gin and tonics when she knew that was how her brother would be celebrating his win.

The naval officers in the bar threw questions her way, but they didn't seem to register just how much harm that was doing. This was fine, she tried to tell herself. It could be a whole lot worse.

Every time the number three car was mentioned, she couldn't help the anger she felt. That was the fucker that took her seat. And he wasn't even performing well. That had to be the biggest piss take of them all.

As hard as the Squad tried to get her to join them, she refused. Bradley joined them for a little bit, not before making sure she was okay. She stayed sitting at the bar, her only company Captain Pete Mitchell. And what company he was. He had asked more questions than anybody else and he wasn't shy about it.

They were maybe the slowest fifty seven laps of her life. But she was coping. Bradley joined her again, a welcome distraction from the race. If anybody could tell she was bothered, it was him. So, he spoke about anything but the race.

But then she looked up at the screen. For the first time since they'd arrived at The Hard Deck, for the first time since lights out, she looked up at one of the screens on the wall.

Her father had been a haunting presence ever since the start of her karting career. Well, he was the whole reason she had a career in the first place. Because of him, she knew nothing but racing. She had no life skills, barely had the ability to take care of herself because of him.

But that wasn't why she threw up on the floor of The Hard Deck. When you grow up the way she did, repressing memories becomes second nature when you see that person every day. But she hadn't seen Jos in months, not since the summer break in August.

It had been seven months since she'd last seen her father. All the memories, all the shit she'd suffered at his hands as a child, came back in one exhausting go.

That was why she threw up on the floor of The Hard Deck. "Shit," she whispered as she wiped at her mouth. She must have looked like a drunk idiot. "I'm so sorry, Penny, I..."

But what excuse did she have for this? "Fuck," Bradley whispered as he pulled her to stand straight. She'd expected to see sympathy on his face, but sympathy wasn't what she found.

Penny shook her head as she grabbed the mop and bucket from behind the bar. "It's okay," she said and turned her attention to Bradley. "Just make sure she gets home okay."

He said nothing as he took her out to the Bronco.

a/n: this might be my favourite chapter so far, i've got so much planned for these two (and if you've had to listen to my roo and [redacted] brainrot im sorry)

Taglist (OPEN): @biancathecool

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#bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fluff #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw fic #rooster #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster fluff #rooster x you #rooster fic #top gun #rooster top gun #top gun imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick #tgm

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garfunklefield · 2 days

Note

i've been asking this a lot and no one do it😞😞

May you write a fic about Pirate sukuna X Mermaid reader??

PEARL

18+ viewer discretion is advised

mermaid!fem!reader/pirate!Ryomen Sukuna Warnings: pirate AU, dub-con, love at first sight, imprinting, sukunas personality is V complex here, soft sukuna, pining, kind of slow burn not really, drinking, masturbation, voyeurism, exhibitionism, slight humiliation kink, ass job, cumshot [back] backshots? mermaid sex sort of, idk man I'm making this up as we go SORRY Word count: 4936 DESC: Ryomen Sukuna never believed in mermaids, until he met you

NOW WHY WOULD NO ONE DO THIS!?!? I had so much fun writing this omg I LOVE THIS

Fair warning: this is kinda shit IM SORRY I have a HEADACHE

Sun blessed Ryomen’s features, kissing against his brow and creating a tan he could never escape from. The waves crashed against his ship and made it rock ever so slowly, back and forth, as he walked across the deck. He wasn’t sure how long he had been at sea, maybe a month or so, but he wasn’t getting any closer to his goal. The wood made a faint clicking sound under his heel as he paced, waiting for something. There was an island his crew had been in search of for months, but it was becoming a distant dream. There was no evidence it truly existed other than a map he had found in the depths of a library. The paper crinkled against his pant pocket, always reminding the captain it was there. There was never a moment where it wasn’t on his person. He didn’t trust anyone but his younger brother, Yuji, and his half-brother Choso. The two made for adequate help on board, but they weren’t serious. They enjoyed drinking into the night and regaling stories of mermaids. Psh, like those existed. Ryomen knew that tall tales existed, but he didn’t believe anyone thought they were still true.

Mermaids were the stuff of fiction. Although he had seen his fair share of weird shit, he drew the line at mermaids. Sirens too.

Yuji was leaning against the railing of the tip of the boat, staring off into the distance with squinted eyes. A small bandana wrapped around his forehead to stop more sunburns from creasing his skin, and to keep his hair clean from the sky. He was superstitious like that, always fearing too much sun could ruin his naturally pink locks. His brother was somewhat right, Ryomen’s hair was more washed out from sun exposure than Yuji’s. Choso was different, choosing to stay inside and tending to the food. His aura was melancholy and it reflected in how he walked, with a limp.

The rest of the crew were either downstairs or tending to their duties, keeping a watchful eye on their captain. Sukuna was a scary man when angered, but docile all the rest of the time. Most days he rarely spoke a word, unless it was to his brothers. His voice never raised above a mutter, unless he was angered. If he was upset, the whole ocean could hear him. And if he was intoxicated. But he didn’t drink anymore. Someone had to watch over the boat and make sure looters stayed clear of it.

Ryomen took this life very seriously, never straying from getting what he set out for. So it puzzled him as to why the island hadn’t appeared. They were in the right direction, they did everything right! So why was it so hard to find this treasure? It could buy him a new life, and his brothers a better life. That’s all he wanted. All the other men would rave about the riches and the women, but he didn’t care for that. Women never caught his eye, he instead cared for his family. Or, surprisingly, the misfortuned. His crew was made up of people who needed a second chance at life, people who wanted to start over. He never judged anyone’s past. He had no right to. He was just a lost soul floating on Earth as well.

“Ryomen,” Yuji’s voice broke through his thoughts, stopping his footsteps against the sun-washed wood. He raised his head and stared at his brother, waiting for him to continue, “Do you think we should anchor for the night?”

“Anchor?” One of his eyebrows quirked, “Now why would we do that?” It was rather odd to suggest such a thing. But the more the captain thought about it, the more it made sense. The wind wasn’t very strong today, making the ship keep at an almost standstill for the majority of the day. Anchoring could let everyone get a good night's rest for a longer journey the next day. Although Ryomen didn’t typically sleep at night. Someone had to keep watch, and he wanted his crew to be awake in the morning than at night. He didn’t mind losing out on some daylight hours if it meant keeping up productivity. The only reason he was awake now, was because it was an hour and a half until sunset, when his job began.

“Well,” his brother tilted his head to the side, pressing his lips together hesitantly. He had a stupid idea, “I was thinking we could have a bit of a party! Raise morale and make everyone a little less … depressed!”

Ryomen raised his hand and waved it in the air dismissively, “No one’s depressed. I’d know if they were, brat.”

He frowned, “They so are. Everyones been sluggish for days. Just one night of partying should reset us!” The boy perked up and waved his hands in the air, trying to convince his older brother, “C’mon! Ask Choso, I’m right.”

“Choso would only agree with you to spite me,” the man grumbled, looking away for a moment. Something caught his eye and made him stop. It was something shiny bobbing in the water, a few yards from the boat. A bright color, flowing across the sea in an almost blob-like fashion. Like… hair. Ryomen didn’t hear Yuji’s further protests, boots squeaking on the deck as he marched over to the side of the boat. He placed two of his rough hands on the railing and peered down, astonished when the blob was gone. It was weird. Just … disappeared into thin air as if it hadn’t been there just seconds before.

Yuji tapped his brother's shoulder, groaning into his ear, “C’monnnnn Ryommennnnnnnnnnn! Just one party!!” Like an incessant child who wanted a toy at the grocery store, he wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted.

He looked over at the boy with a muddled expression. Eyebrows furrowed together, he found himself searching his memories for an answer. Ryomen had seen unusual things before on the ocean, but never like that. Were his eyes playing tricks with him? Deceiving and pulling him from reality? Or were those tall tales really true? Nonsense, he shook his head, there wasn’t any reason to think that. His eyes were playing tricks on him, that had to be it. The pirate looked over at his brother once again, seeing his pleading expression, and nodded.

There would be a party.

Just because you were a mermaid didn’t mean you were a special one. You considered yourself normal, in every sense of the word. A regular mermaid with a regular life, who went to work and came home at the same time every day. Swam the same channels and hung out with her friends on the weekend. You didn’t find yourself longing for more or wishing you were special. You were content. That was until you noticed the shadow. You had heard of humans before and been told the same story. Don’t go up to the surface, they could spot you and kill you. Humans feared the unknown and mermaids were exactly that. You followed and respected the rules, so your curiosity never got the better of you, until you noticed the shadow.

It was a large shadow cast over your coral reef home, making it almost impossible to see. At first, you thought they were building a new mall overhead or perhaps a new traveling show in town. But as you swam closer to the surface, with the cooler water brushing against your fins, you realized it was human. A ship. You had heard of ships before yet you had never seen one this close to your home. Housing closer to the surface was cheaper for being more dangerous, but you didn’t think you were that close.

The boat was brown, and covered in wood panels. Something came over your brain as you swam closer and closer, taking in the bottom side. One of your hands reached out before you and touched the cold wood, brushing against the edge with your fingertips. It was foreign to you. You had never let yourself explore before. You had never let yourself be curious before. It was an addicting feeling. Your eyes glazed over as your tail propelled you further up until your head was bobbing out of the water. Long hairs, of different colors spread out across you, hiding your form in a cave of strands. You watched with interest at the top of the boat, your eyes catching on one man in particular.

He was gorgeous. Pink hair, pushed up in a spikey fashion, with the under part shaved and a dark brown color. His cheekbones were high and hollow, signaling he hadn’t had a good meal in months. But his body showed otherwise. The constant running, walking, and standing, meant he was built. Arms, covered in black ink, broke out from his sleeveless shirt and flexed in the sunlight. Ink covered his neck, lightly stopping by his jaw. It dipped into his front, and you just knew there was more. He hadn’t noticed you yet, staring at a boy who looked similar to him. They were talking about something you couldn’t hear, but from reading their lips, you deciphered his name.

Ryomen. It was an ancient name, something you hadn’t heard before. You wanted to think about it more and admire him from afar, but he turned his head and spotted you. He didn’t see you, but your hair flowed before you in the water. It made your heart drop to see his face contort. It wasn’t hatred, but a look of shock, followed by disbelief. As he walked closer to the edge of the boat, you made your decision and dove back under the water, floating backward to hide yourself in the depths of the waves.

The night rolled around faster than the pirate captain had anticipated. Stars lit up the sky and illuminated the ship, although most of the light came from the lanterns strung across columns. He didn’t drink but opted to sit on a barrel and watch as his shipmates did. They all danced around and sang as if there wasn’t a care in the world. He would’ve danced with them, or done something lively, but he couldn’t get that image out of his head. He had seen something in the water, something alive. It watched him through a veil of thick-colored hair, that bobbed in the ocean’s water. And it ran away the moment it realized he had seen it.

“Ryomen,” a voice behind the man made him jump. He looked over and saw his half-brother, with a tired look across his features, staring back at him, “You should dance.”

“I’m tired.”

“Ryomen,” he said knowingly, “stop worrying and enjoy yourself.”

“I said I’m-” but he was cut off again by a pointed look from Choso. He was hot-headed, sure, but Choso was another level if angered. Ryomen let out a breath and got up, slipping off his jacket. Yuji had brought his fiddle, playing some tune everyone had heard of. It was simple but drowned out by the voices of their laughter and singing. It was a cheery moment, filled with more screams once their captain got up and bowed dramatically.

“Captain!” A crewmate, Nobara, chided. She strolled over to him and took his hand, “Dance with me, will ya?” She was about Yuji’s age, which made her almost a younger sister in his eyes. He took her hand and put another on her shoulder. With one movement he picked the younger girl up and set her feet atop her shoes, striding around the deck with a small smile. She giggled and laughed, holding onto him so she wouldn’t fall. It even made him smile wider, which was strange considering he used to never smile until he met his crew. They all … softened him. Showed Ryomen a side of himself he hadn’t known before.

The captain didn’t notice, in fact, no one noticed they had a guest. From a gap in the railing, a small hole, you watched. You never left. Your curiosity was starting to get you into more dangerous situations, hanging off the edge of the boat all to see a man who didn’t know you existed. You watched him as his face contorted into a smile, echoing laughter radiating from his chest. It calmed you, to see this side of him. Watching him dance and have an amazing time, all without realizing someone was watching.

They danced for another hour and drank for several. But you never left. You ducked your head when the crewmates got close and peeked up to meet Ryomen’s rugged face. He didn’t notice you, no one else did. They were lost in their own world and you were more thankful than ever. His eyes had softened and his smile was radiating, so you were surprised when everyone had left that it… disappeared. The captain put his coat back on and looked around. He didn’t do much to the bottles lying across the deck, or the garbage, opting to kick it with his shoe. There was a hollow look on his face and you desperately wanted to know why. What changed him from turning so happy and charismatic into… that? You had to admit, it was hot. And you had to admit, you were beginning to feel a way about this man you had never felt about anyone before. A loud heartbeat thumped in your ears and made the world slightly fog over, in a daze.

You had imprinted on him.

It’s a bit self-explanatory, but I’ll explain it for a bit. Seeing someone, the someone in mermaids sets off a biological code. They can tell from the moment they meet that person that that’s their lover, their someone, for the rest of their lives. It was complex, seeing as you were two different species. And, seeing as he didn’t even know your existence. You couldn’t get the feeling out of your head that he was meant to be yours, in some universe or lifetime.

You didn’t realize it, from all this info dumping, but being out of the water for so long had dried up your tail, causing you to transform. A bit more lore, if you will. Mermaids, in any body of water, will form a tail around their legs as a protective barrier. Although, out of the water their legs are shown and they can use them, it’s illegal and forbidden to even go above the water and test this theory out. Many mermaids who've tried to live undercover as humans always get outed in some way or another, so after so many terrible disastrous stories, the king outlawed it. You always followed the rules, but you knew it would happen. Looking down, you gasped and stared for a moment before warmth spread across your inner legs.

Masturbating as a mermaid was always kind of a chore, finding the sensitive spot over your tail and rubbing until you got somewhere took forever. But you always heard stories from your more adventurous friends that masturbation with legs was heavenly. Your eyes glanced from your bare legs back to Ryomen who was seated on another barrel and staring at the open ocean. It was so wrong, to touch yourself in front of someone who had no idea, but you couldn’t help yourself. You grabbed onto the ledge and slid one of your hands in between your legs, spreading apart your foreign folds. It was wet and slippery, but a different kind of wetness. Not from water, but natural lubrication. Your teeth found your bottom lip, biting down to suppress a noise when your fingers brushed over a sensitive spot. Was this the clit? It felt so good, that you started to focus solely on it. Rubbing small circles over your clit and praying you wouldn’t be too loud.

It felt like you were on fire, watching the captain and imagining what he would do to you. His cock, because human cocks were much better than mermaid cocks, you’ve heard, would feel so good in your wet pussy. You could imagine him stretching you out and fucking into you with such sheer force it would hurt. It would be different from the sex you’ve had before, no more men laying eggs in you. But instead, pumping bucket loads of sperm inside your tight hole. Your fingers slipped into your cunt, three at a time. Small noises escaped from your mouth and before long you began to unravel. You could see it on the horizon, and feel the orgasm building in your stomach. It was so good, it was so hot. You tried your hardest not to moan too loud, but you did. It was a small noise that could have been passed off as a grunt or perhaps a pained noise. But he knew.

Ryomen’s head snapped in your direction and he saw your face contorted in some kind of pleasure. You pressed your lips together and widened your eyes, thinking of something to do. But in that moment, you were frozen. It was fear, but it was excitement. You had been caught and humiliated, and it felt so hot. Your fingers trailed up from your pussy and to the ledge, glistening in the light. The captain just stared at you for a moment, trying to wrap his head around what exactly to do next. He was face to face with a mermaid of some sort, who he had just heard moan. He stood up and slowly made his way over to you, boots squeaking.

“You,” he gruffed, kneeling to look you over. You stared up at him with wide eyes. He was gorgeous up close too, something out of a fairytale. You wanted to extend your hand and reach out for him, let him pull you up and into his embrace.

“Me,” you repeated sheepishly, a hazy blush forming at your temple. Ryomen reached for your hand and took it, looking over your delicate skin. You went to continue, but he pulled you up. You gasped and let go of the ledge, then found yourself being thrown backward into the water. When your frame hit the water, a shriek escaped your lips and was cut short.

“You!” You gasped, breaking the surface tension and appearing back from the waves, “What the hell was that for?!?” He raised a calculated eyebrow and nodded, standing up. The captain's body shifted from side to side as he debated a response. You could see the wheels turning in his head as he decided if he should even respond to you, or leave you to drown. Of course, you wouldn’t drown, but it was the thought behind it that left a sour taste in your mouth.

“You’re a siren. Some kind of temptress trying to infiltrate my crew,” he spoke proudly as if he had come to the right conclusion. You stared up at him with a dumbfounded expression. How could he be so far from the truth? You weren’t there to tempt him into diving in and drowning, that was an outdated stereotype. The majority of the mermaids and sirens you knew didn’t want anything to do with humans. Why would he think that? In all honesty, you just wanted to feel his skin again. When he grabbed you, you had a chance to feel his rough calloused hands against yours. He was strong and warm—a warmth you had never experienced before.

“I wasn’t gonna-” A frown pulled at your lips, swimming forward to the base of the ship. With force and a lot of groaning, you made your way back up to the ledge with arm strength alone. The man watched you without a caring look in his eye. To him you were here to ruin his mission, the quest he had taken so long for. You were … his enemy. You weren’t sure how to make him see you didn’t want any harm, but rather him. In those few hours of just watching Ryomen and seeing him operate, you had begun to fall for him, even imprinting on his being. It was a tale as old as time, a creature falling in love with a human who couldn’t want anything to do with them. You had heard it play out before, but you wanted to try. Something about him felt different, even if his initial reaction was the same.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” the words flowed out of your mouth gently, taking the captain by surprise. You saw it in the way his eyebrow twitched, and the corners of his mouth pulled down into a frown, “I’ve been watching you all today. You intrigue me, Ryomen.”

“How do you know my name, wench?” He sneered back at you, a cold wall in place of the warm exterior you had seen moments prior with his crew.

“I heard it. I heard a lot.. I don’t want to hurt you,” you looked down at your hands, then to your tail that flowed in the small breeze, “I don’t want to hurt you or your crew.”

He was silent for a moment, lips pressed into a line. He stared at you with an expression that was hard to read. Thinking, calculating, and figuring out his next move. Ryomen was truly stunned. He had never expected a siren to be real and approaching him. And he had never expected one to be so … beautiful. The captain had to admit, he was captivated by your beauty from the moment he saw your orgasm face. Yeah, he knew what you were doing. He didn’t want to think about how it turned him on to be watched like that, hear your sweet moans fill the salty air.

Sukuna knew the tale, a beautiful siren would take in a captain and make him jump. He knew it all too well, so he couldn’t trust you, not even if he wanted to. A part of him did want to. He noticed the fact you grew legs, followed by a tail in their place. He could see the appeal of drying you off and fucking a baby into you, then throwing you overboard and leaving. But something was different. There was a genuine tone in your voice and there was a genuine flutter in his heart. He would never admit this, or show you his warmth as he did his crew. You were a stranger who deserved nothing but a cold exterior and a cold heart.

“Then what do you want?” He asked, quirking an eyebrow. You let a moment pass, silence falling all around you. You didn’t want to say it because the answer would make you completely and utterly vulnerable. But you had to, you had to say something.

“You.” The words rang in Ryomen’s ears for a few moments as he stared at you with incredulous eyes. You wanted him? Even after he threw you into the ocean for dead, you wanted him? You wanted this man when he showed you nothing, not kindness, not hatred, just nothing? He didn’t want to believe he had just accidentally captivated you so much that you’d fall for him, in hours no less. The captain stood and watched you, taking in your form. Your hair was covering bits of your face, and blue scales covering bits of your skin. It didn’t cover your breasts, exposing your perked nipples to the cold wind. It didn’t cover the skin of your stomach, how your rolls were accentuated in the light.

He couldn’t deny he was a little bit curious, and the curiosity was turning into a perverted lust building in his abdomen. He had a mermaid at his will, a pretty one too, willing to do anything for him. The man could tell, from how you stared at him. So in love. It was cute, it made even his heart flutter just a bit. But it was still Ryomen, as warm as he was to his crew he was still a cold-hearted man. And he was a man. A lonely man, who hadn’t seen someone look at him with such love in his whole life. It was intoxicating, how you devoted yourself without thinking. Imprinting. He had read about it but never seen it in person. Hell, he had never seen a mermaid in person before. It was all new to Ryomen. There were mixtures of love, lust, warmth, coldness, confusion, love- love? He didn’t know you! How could he love you? But… it wasn’t natural. There was a pull, different from his other thoughts. It took over his thoughts and made him forget those perversions. It made him want to kneel and take your hand, pulling you from the water and holding you close. Was this the effect of your imprinting somehow rubbing off of him? Or was it… being shown unbridled love and affection that made Ryomen crumble?

Ryomen didn’t say anything, leaning down and taking your hand. His eyes intimately met with yours, as his hand enveloped yours. You looked down at him and a small gasp escaped your lips when he lifted you, without breaking a sweat. His arm flexed in the dull light, and you collapsed against his chest. Wet, you clung to him and rested your face against his pectorals.

“You… want me?” You murmured, not bothering to look up at him.

“I don’t know. I’m drawn, I’ll say that.” his breath was warm against your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand up. He was holding you up, so your tail didn’t drag on the ground. It wasn’t long or big, so it didn’t make a loud commotion as he set you down on the deck, “You.. need to dry off, huh?”

Your head nodded, thinking that would be that. You didn’t expect him to pick you up again, laying you on your stomach. A moan-like breath escaped from your lips, “Ryomen?” You turned slightly to watch, but something stopped you in your tracks. He was drawn to you, in more ways than one. It was your imprinting, rubbing off on him, making you drunk on his scent. Yes, Sukuna had his own will, but he couldn’t help but be drawn to you. Your eyes, maybe that’s what it was? Those tales of sirens were right, except it wasn’t just lust he was feeling. Maybe he was imprinting as well? If humans ever could. Love at first sight, which caused massive arousal on his part.

The entire point I’m trying to drill home is, that the captain was (whether he liked it or not) stuck with you, and he did like it. You couldn’t control your desires for him as much as he could. You knew he was the one and that aura surrounding yourself brought him in, making him feel safe. But onto the matter at hand? His erection was out, glistening in the pale light. You bit your bottom lip as you saw it bob from his left hand slowly stroking up his shaft. He didn’t know how mermaids consummated, because your penetration hole was not behind you, so you weren’t entirely sure what he was doing.

Then you felt it, he pressed his length against your asscheeks, frotting it back and forth to create stimulation. A small whine came falling from your bite-swollen lips, feeling the foreign sensation, “I think… we’re going to have to get to know each other,” Ryomen breathed out between his thrusts in between your asscheeks.

You said your name lowly, giving a brief description of your life. It was boring, with no parents and no siblings. So you had no qualms about leaving and starting over with this hot sailor. He nodded to your story and asked questions about different aspects. For him rutting into your behind, it was oddly casual. As if the two of you had silently agreed, this was normal, and you were now committed. Then he narrated his tale, growing up an orphan with two younger brothers to take care of. How he wanted a better life for his siblings and by doing this exploration, he’d get that. At points, the two of you forgot he was even humping your ass to begin with. It was so intimate, that detail slipped your mind.

It didn’t though, when his grip on your hips tightened, sharp nails digging into your scaled skin. He gaped and groaned, throwing his head back. You felt so good, different than the women he had fucked before. You were good and quiet, letting him hump you until he was about to cum. Then Ryomen leaned back and stroked himself to completion, spilling all on your pretty little back. You gasped and shuddered at the cold sperm, dripping onto your lower back.

“Warning, next time,” you breathed out, looking back at him.

Ryomen smiled and nodded, “Of course. Are you dry yet?”

You looked down at your still very mermaid bottom half and glanced back at him, “Do I look dry?” A hearty laugh escaped his mouth and he shook his head as you continued, “Just a few more minutes. Am I officially coming home with you? I mean, I’d like to, if you’re offering.”

“I don’t think I have a choice. I just came on your…” He trailed off, “I don’t even know why I,” another laugh, “Did that. I think you imprinted- or maybe I imprinted? I just… feel something for you I’ve never felt for anyone else before.”

“You mean it?”

“Mean it.”

#ryomen sukuna x you #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen smut #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna x reader #sukuna smut #sukuna x you #sukuna #ryoumen sukuna #ryomen x reader #ryomen sukuna #jjk ryomen #jujutsu kaisen ryomen #sukuna ryomen #x reader #jjk x reader smut #x reader smut #smut #jjk

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hyuny-bunny · 2 days

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cybersex | ot8 series

prologue. chapter I

MDNI (18+): this series will depict sex work and acts of sex. this prologue has suggestive themes, nudity, and mentions of butt plugs

skz x fem!reader

a/n: I'll have chapter 1 up soon but I hope you all love this series as much as I do!

synopsis: after a month or so of becoming a camgirl! your career really takes off, you decide to get a place of your own to film content. a lovely building opens up with the perfect space for all your necessities but to your surprise, your favorite waiter boys and long time crush on the head chief of the restaurant you work also happen to live in the building. Bringing you to meet their own assortment of friends. what happens when they find out there's some holes in the stories you tell about your life style?

prologue

You always had a keen interest in the sex work. You had an nsfw twitter page for yourself but it was only really used as a means of saving material or on a bold occasion, posting some captions with said material. There was a thrill of seeing your notifications filled with compliments and praises of like-minded people who were just as horny as you. Your roommate Sana had gotten into doing camgirl work pretty early on. You had indulged your curiosity on occasion when she and her girlfriend would be streaming just down the hall from you. Popping onto the stream to see your roommate's body on display and her girlfriend sat cutely between her legs wearing nothing but a heart-shaped butt plug. Sana would encourage you to try it out at least, very aware of how much you had desired to try it out but always holding back. Financially speaking, you could only benefit from it. In comparison to what you two made in a week at your measly waitress jobs, she could make both your checks for two weeks in just one night and even double dependent on how long she streamed for.

“You’re not worried that someone will recognize you?” You asked standing in the newly furnished cam room, floor to ceiling decorated in all shades of pink imaginable.

“Not anymore, I revealed my face on stream so long ago, I haven’t given it much thought since. Besides, I could walk away at any moment I decide. I will admit there was a certain thrill with covering up in the beginning. I think there's something about hiding your identity while being in such a lewd state that elicits such an adrenaline rush. It makes the excitement of being watched and gawked at all the more fun.” Sana is now leaning on the desk where her camera and lighting equipment reside.

“I like the fun, bring me as much joy and excitement as it probably does for my followers,” There’s a slight flush that rises to the tops of her cheeks that you can still make out in the fluorescent lights, “The biggest thing for me is it gives me the confidence I need, the financial security is just a bonus.”

The windows were covered by drawn curtains that covered the entirety of the walls, allowing the room to only be lit by the neon color-changing lamps which to no surprise were set at a baby pink. The floors were covered by a fluffy throw rug, with very little wood peaking. There is a makeshift sofa bed that's covered by an assortment of pillows and silk sheets and another fluffy blanket. There sat on the floor is the giant white teddy bear, Mina, Sana’s longtime partner, gifted her just a month ago. You stayed quiet, absorbing your surroundings. You were amazed but also… jealous. Jealous of how she could find confidence and find security in what most people found so vulnerable. You let out a sigh, sitting on the almost too-silky sheets that caused you to slide right off the bed.

“Careful. You can imagine how slippery they are in the nude,” She laughed softly as she stared at you, waiting to speak again. “I see the gears turning… What’s on your mind kit-kat?” Your eyes bolt up to her.

“I’m just... A bit taken aback I guess. You could say jealous maybe. This is the frist time I’ve ever considered it as a viable option…” You let the sentence trail off not knowing what to say.

All your life, you had complexes about your body. Measured your self-worth in the way your body looked, and how it compared to other girls you had admired. The older you got, the better you were about mentally checking yourself, to realize it was okay not to be shaped like other girls. Finding it in yourself to feel secure in the body you had. Although you could keep those insecurities at bay most of the time, they would crawl out from under the bed like a hideous monster to plague your thoughts when you felt down about the lackluster love life. Bad dates, unreciprocated feelings, and talking stages that never went anywhere, that was the extent of your love life.

“You want to give it a try?” That question pulled you out of your thoughts, now you were the one with a bright flush across the tops of your cheeks. “I can help you get started, set up your account, and start promoting you on my own account to start you off with a bit of a following. That’s if… you really are serious about this.” Sana had always been so sweet to you, she had already been letting you take the spare of her 3-bedroom rental as you couldn’t afford to live on your own. She had always extended a helping hand when you needed but here was a chance to finally get you to land on your own feet for once. How could you refuse such an opportunity?

“I don’t know… I don’t think I’m cut out for something like this I mean look at you! I don’t know how anyone is supposed to get off looking at-”

“Finish that sentence and you’re never allowed to see Jiji again,” Sana interrupted, Jiji was your shared house cat who was slowly becoming more yours as time went on. “ I don't want to pressure you into anything but I just think you could actually see the benefit in this. Give it one try and if you don’t like it, I erase every trace of you.”

You sat with the thought, your brain tugging you to go for it. One chance and if it doesn’t work out no harm right?

“When can we start?”

masterlist • next chapter ->

#skz smut #skz imagines #skz scenarios #skz hard thoughts #skz x you #stray kids fanfic #stray kids smut #hyunjin x reader #jeongin x reader #bang chan x reader #changbin x reader #lee know x reader #han x reader #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #hyunybunnywrites #cybersexseries

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perseruna · 2 days

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Endiness made a beautiful long post with all his quotes on that topic that I think is very informative and worth looking at, so here’s a link to that. And with that already discussed, I thought I’d make a thread of all his changes that we are aware of, because when you look into them, you find that none of his “book accurate” changes are actually book accurate.

His decision to make Geralt grunt and cut his lines.

HC: "All the grunts, I either added or I didn't say anything and just grunted instead. It was often up to the other actors to go, 'I think he's not gonna say anything now.'"

JB: "Henry likes to cut his lines, 'cause he's lazy. No, he literally just likes to cut them. He likes to do more up here [frames his face with his hands] and just with face and hmms and grunts. There's a lot of hmms, and so I often have to take a lot of his lines and turn it into a lot of my stuff so that the plot happens."

So, as everyone who has read the books knows that Geralt is and always has been a yapper. Gerakt often talks or thinks in monologues, and definitely not in short grunts.

Of course when the audience started making fun of Geralt for not being able to speak in full sentences Henry promptly went back on admitting the blame and instead said that the big bad writers were the ones who didn't give him lines, and now it was his life’s mission to fight for a book accurate Geralt who speaks.

Roach’s death scene

After S2 came out, Lauren received a lot of backlash for Roach’s death scene, with multiple sources citing that she wanted the moment to be more “comedic” before the brave Henry Cavill stepped in and refused to participate in such horrible anti source material activities.

LH: "Henry was so unhappy with the line. Finally I said, 'You know what, you come up with something. I trust you, you know this material so well, you know the book so well, you don't even have to pitch it to me.' And he came back the next day with a beautiful speech that's at the end of 'Sword of Destiny' when Geralt is facing death.”

This is the line he ended up using:

“Enjoy your last walk across the meadow and through the mist. Be not afraid of her for she is your friend."

This was Lauren’s response AND the original line.

LH: “Here's what was scripted, in homage of the fact that a previous Roach had existed, and another one will exist soon. It's hardly a joke. Henry wanted a longer, more emotional moment, which I was more than happy to give him. Don't create drama where none exists.”

So in S2 Geralt ends up quoting a part of his monologue from ‘Sword of Destiny’ when he’s at his lowest after thinking that Yennefer had died at the battle of Sodden Hill, and he has nothing left to live for. Which to me doesn't work that well with Roach at all. That line was a response to Geralt thinking he's lost the love of his life, not his horse. In my opinion, the original line Lauren penned out is more heartfelt and actually more emotional and more book accurate as well.

The absolute removal of any Triss and Geralt “romance”

This one we don’t have that much information on in comparison to others. But there were multiple reports that at the beginning of S2 Triss and Geralt were supposed to have some kind of a romantic scene with each other which then was cut during production, and it was largely speculated that it was due to Henry Cavill.

“Several months ago we reported on a sex scene happening between Geralt and Triss, sometime in the first half of Season 2. That didn’t happen, as we all saw, but here’s what we know about the original plan for that: Geralt and Triss are in a room together, they seem friendly at first. They are playing some kind of weird game. Whoever wins a round, gets to ask a question. We’re not privy to the exact flow of the conversation, but it eventually leads to both of them ending up in bed. We can only guess why this was cut, but perhaps it was thanks to Henry Cavill.”

Now, irrelevantly on your feelings on book Triss and Geralt you have to admit that that short-lived “romance” is indeed a part of the books and therefor book accurate. So the removal of it would go against Mr I’m fighting to make this show as much book accurate as possible.

The removal of the Yen and Geralt sex scene in S2

"We just wanted to be very careful that it was true and real, and it didn't turn into something that we, as actors, didn't believe it should be," Cavill stated. When Yennefer and Geralt unite, they embrace, but it doesn't go further than that. He continued: "We wanted it to be emotional rather than sexual. It was really, really important, and we had to lean away from what was originally on the page." Initially, Geralt and Yennefer were written to have a more passionate night. Henry Cavill and Anya Chalotra went to "The Witcher" producers and explained why they thought a steamy evening was not the way to go. "These are people who believe one thing about the fate of another and then find out something else is true," Cavill said about Geralt believing Yennefer was dead. "That's not how they behave," the actor added. "How they behave is they just want to be with the person and emotionally recognize their existence again in that shared space.”

This one is a bit tricky because I am willing to get behind an actor who doesn't want to do a sex scene out of comfort reasons or whatnot, but Henry saying that "That's not how [Yennefer and Geralt] behave”, is quite absurd in my opinion. Because that is very much how Geralt and Yennefer behave, especially in the short stories and ToC. They are inherently a very sexual couple who come crashing in and out of each other’s lives while having very passionate sex. But I can understand wanting this scene to be more “emotional” (as if sex isn't emotional), so this one I am willing to give him a bit more leeway on. (But then again looking at the blinds saying that he refused any sex scenes because oh his “ideals” and was allegedly really nasty to Anya about it, well..)

Geralt being the perfect father figure to Ciri with no flaws and no struggles (which inevitably snowballed into the Yen Betrayal Arc)

This one I don’t see talked that much at all, and to me this one is his most detrimental one.

@LHissrich: “In interviews, Henry explains how he felt strongly that Geralt NOT be bumbling, nor a struggling father figure. In fact, a lot of S2 is about how Geralt does come from a loving (albeit unconventional) family. Henry was passionate about this shift, and we discussed it a lot, and ultimately thought it was wonderful for his character development. But it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance.”

So I don’t know about you, but I love when characters have flaws and naturally progress be it for good or bad, some would say that that's what story telling is about, well that someone wouldn't be Henry Cavil. Geralt being a struggling father figure at first, someone who makes mistakes and learns from them and tries is very much a prominent theme in Blood of Elves and is actually very real, people make mistakes! Especially in huge shifts such as “becoming a father overnight’ but we didn't get that because Henry refused to play it that way. What we got is Geralt who already basically knows exactly how to parent, he always knows what to say, what pep talk to give and also doesn't hold any resentment and any negative feelings towards Vesemir at all. It's all one dimensional happy family here! Which goes against not only the books but what he preached about fighting tooth and nail to make the “forgotten” male characters three-dimensional as well because the horrible feminist Lauren only thinks about female characters.

Lauren then goes on saying that “it also had the domino effect of changing what Ciri needed from Yen when she entered the picture. Thus, introducing the idea of balance” So, it is fair to speculate that Henry’s refusal to showcase Geralt having any flaws at all and act book accurate snowballed into The Controversial Yennefer Betrayal Arc.

These are the ones that I can remember off the top off my head, so there might be more, there’s probably more that we aren’t even aware of. I think putting them all together showcase a very interesting picture. One of Henry Cavill never actually understanding who Geralt fundamentally is as a character, and of him not being a team player at all. I just hope that more and more people are aware of the insane PR his team did for him when it came to this show, and that more people are able to see through it.

#anti henry cavill #the witcher #long post #i do believe that i have an interesting vintage point because ive been in this fandom since the show premiered so some people might not be #even aware of these things when ive lived them and have an archive of them in my head lmaoo #i don't like the formatting of asks when you reblog them so im making this a separate text post

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starsofang · 2 days

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Change of Heart

hitman!ghost x f!reader / part 3

previous part

tw: alcohol use, brief mentions of suicide, soft ghost <3

When life has completely and utterly failed you, you hire a hitman to take you out, too afraid to do it yourself. Instead of killing you like you had planned, he strikes up a deal with you, and you're too stubborn to bail out.

Day six.

You made it another day in your deal with Ghost, and it was supposed to feel good. The entire point was to prove to him and yourself that you didn’t want to die, that you could figure out the demons in your head and summon them out, but it was proving to be a much more difficult task than you thought.

Waking up on the morning of your sixth day didn’t feel all that good like you thought it would. Ghost hadn’t returned to your apartment since he stayed to see you make it to day five, and you weren’t sure when he was coming back.

It wasn’t clear why you were taking a liking to his company. Maybe you were lonely, maybe you just needed a friend, and he happened to be there in the right place at the right time.

The thought of it scared you, though. You hadn’t let anybody into your life since your ex-boyfriend, and you always preferred it that way – keeping a distance meant you wouldn’t get hurt again, and certainly, this masked man would eventually do the same thing to you if he decided to stick around.

You wanted to call the deal off. Not because you still wanted him to kill you, not because you wanted your life to end, but because you didn’t want to grow attached, just for you to not have a change of heart in the end.

It would be fucked up of you if you allowed a bond to form between you and Ghost, only to take it away through an act of death after the deal was up. That would just be plain selfish.

So, you tried distracting yourself instead.

It was a nice day today, and the weather, albeit chilly with that slight bite of cold wind, was an almost perfect excuse to take a night off and have fun by yourself in a bar. Surely, that doesn’t count as you going against Ghost’s deal of self-healing bullshit if it’s just for fun, right?

That’s exactly what led you to appear at a local bar downtown. Ironically, it was right down the street from the coffee shop where you first met Simon in the meeting to discuss your self-proclaimed suicide mission. You passed it on your walk to the bar, and a slight feeling of guilt tugged at your heartstrings as your eyes drifted to it, even as it was already behind you.

Shaking the guilt away, you continued on your journey along the sidewalk. There was no reason to feel guilty. You owed nothing to Ghost, and you were still technically keeping up your end of the bargain. A harmless night of fun was something you needed to shoo away those demons, at least that’s what you told yourself.

The bar wasn’t packed, which you didn’t mind. After all, it was only a Thursday night and most people had work the next morning. Lucky for you, that meant the bar wouldn’t take a long time for your drink orders, so you wasted no time in diving in, conversing with the bartender as the night went on.

About four drinks in, you could feel the weight of the alcohol lay heavy on your mind. It made things a bit hazy, like a brewing fog was beginning to loom over you. Your arms rested comfortably on the bar counter, head slightly bowed down as you attempted to keep yourself upright. Being an ex-alcoholic (you absolutely were not an ex, you just loved to float down the river of denial), alcohol was unpredictable in the way it affected your body.

Sometimes, it forced you to loosen up and have fun.

Other times, it made the weight of your issues much heavier.

Right now, it was an awkward middle, like your body was torn between wanting to enjoy this moment of serene relaxation, and wanting to plop right into bed and sleep your worries away, pretending they never existed in the first place.

The sound of somebody plunking themselves down on the stool next to you forced your head to lift, and when you came in sight of that damned mask, you wanted to stand up and let your legs lead you right to the bar’s exit.

Ghost sat unbothered, ordered himself a bourbon from the kind bartender. She flashed him a polite smile, throwing me a slight glance, and when you gave her a shrug, she left the two of you alone after retrieving Ghost’s drink.

“You a stalker now or something?” you grumbled in feigned annoyance, letting your head loll back down on the counter with a huff.

Ghost’s hand wrapped around the glass of bourbon while the other lifted his mask enough to reveal his mouth. You noticed instantly that he wasn’t wearing his gloves, and you stared at the littered scars on his hands as well as the veins that ran up from his knuckles and beneath the cuff of his hoodie sleeve.

Swallowing, you forced yourself to look away from them, opting on his eyes.

“Somethin’ like that,” he hummed, tipping the glass to his mouth to take a sip of the bitter alcohol. You wrinkled your nose up at it, not quite fond of dark liquor (though, who were you to be picky, seeing your collection of scattered bottles that consumed your home?).

“‘M not gonna kill myself, y’know,” you slurred out in defense, rolling your head so your cheek rested flat on the counter as you stared at him with what you hoped was perceived as disapproval.

“I know, love. Wouldn’t hire me if you were.”

Touche.

Frowning to yourself, you observed the way his lips parted to allow more of the murky liquor to pour into his mouth and down his throat, your eyes dropping to see his throat bob as he swallowed. The small scar on his lips caught your eye, and you couldn’t help but stare at it for a moment more, taking in the slight curve of it over his top lip, the scar tissue white in contrast to the light pinkess of his mouth.

“Why are you here?” you managed to ask, having to practically pry your eyes away from him.

The alcohol must’ve been getting to your brain too much, because you had the brief thought that he looked pretty. Gosh, half of his face was still covered by the mask, what was wrong with you?

“Went by your place. Saw you weren’t there.”

“You mean broke into my place,” you corrected, and you swore you nearly saw stars from the way his lip curled up in amusement.

“Mm. Maybe that,” he agreed with a careless shrug.

He leaned one of his arms on the counter, tilting his head in your direction. You could feel his eyes taking you in, studying you as always, as if you were a book he was analyzing every time he saw you. They stare at your cheeks, flushed from the alcohol. Your hair, which was lazily falling in your face from where your head lay. Your mouth, which was pulled into a mix of a frown and a pout that you clearly had no intentions of wiping off.

“Why are you here?” He repeated the question back to you, and you gave him the same shrug he had given you.

“I can’t have fun?”

“This fun to you?”

“...No.”

He chuckled out a laugh that rumbled you to the core, and you blinked stupidly at him as he downed the rest of the bourbon.

“Thought so, sweetheart. It’s a bit dingy in here, innit?”

You shifted your eyes to take in the bar, and sad to say, he was right. The bar itself wasn’t all that great, though you didn’t necessarily come because it was lavish. It was pretty old and outdated, with wooden counters, old floors, and stools that creaked under every movement. But hey, they had a pool table and a dart board, so it wasn’t all that bad.

“Maybe just a bit,” you sighed out, and he smiled at you.

“Right. So why are you here?” He asked again, and you stared at him for a moment before sighing again.

“Figuring myself out like you wanted me to,” you offered, and he raised an unimpressed eyebrow under the balaclava.

“Figurin’ yourself out with half a dozen vodka cranberries isn’t somethin’ I see as helpful. Weird choice in drink, by the way.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but promptly shut it, because damn it, vodka cranberries really weren’t all that good.

His fingers tapped mindlessly along the empty glass in front of him, and you found your gaze once again drifting to take in the rough pads of his fingers and healed cuts on the back of his hand. For a moment, a very, very brief moment, you wished you could reach out and take hold of it, just to feel what it was like to hold somebody else’s hand again.

It had been a long time since you’d had any sort of touch, both innocent and intimate, and your ex-boyfriend certainly wasn’t the type of man to hold your hand like delicate glass and place kisses along the back of it.

Ghost let out a long sigh through his nose as he took note of your mental absence. “That pretty head of yours is always runnin’ around.”

Pretty head. He always said that, and now, it caused a weird clench in your chest.

“You’re pretty,” you blurted out drunkenly, and when Ghost stared at you in silence, you prayed that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. Never in your life had something so embarrassing happened, and you weren’t even sure why you said that.

You’d met Ghost a total of three times, and it wasn’t under normal circumstances. Most people meet a man on dating apps or at a damn park where they accidentally bump into one another and have a moment of love at first sight. You met Ghost off of the fucking dark web.

“You’re pretty too, sweetheart.” He chuckled in amusement, seemingly unbothered by your sudden display of admiration, and you felt your cheeks warm.

You aggressively turned your head away from him, plopping your other cheek on the counter so you wouldn’t have to look at him. He made no move to stop you, which you were thankful for.

“Think it’s ‘bout time you start goin’ home and get yourself ready for day seven, yeah?”

Ghost’s voice sent a buzz through your already fuzzy body, and instead of protesting, you found yourself nodding despite him being unable to see your face.

Yeah, home sounded good. Your bed sounded good. Sleeping this shame off sounded good.

“Okay,” you agreed quietly, and when you felt a hand lightly rest on your shoulder, you picked your head up to look at him.

His mask was back over his mouth, but his eyes crinkled in a familiar smile as he gestured his head to the bar door.

Oh. He wanted to walk you.

You stood on legs of jelly, lightly swaying as you gained your balance. His hand reached out to grab hold of your elbow, and when you met his soft gaze, you felt small underneath it. Tall was what he was, towering over you, but instead of feeling intimidated like you did in your first meeting, you felt a wave of security.

Ghost had somehow knew you would be here, drinking away your sorrows, and he showed up with no judgment. Now he was offering to walk you to your apartment, even though he barely knew you.

Were hitmen always this sweet? Or was it just Ghost?

You let your mind run astray as he gently guided you out of the bar and on the sidewalk of downtown, keeping a light grip on you the entire way. No words were said, but none needed to be. The silence was comforting, and it allowed you your moment of serenity while you processed just how much this man was doing for you on his own free whim.

You expected Ghost to simply drop you off at your door and leave you to go inside, but when he fumbled with the doorknob and led you into your home, you realized he wasn’t that kind of asshole and he wanted to make sure you made it to bed instead of a heap on the floor.

His hand remained on your elbow as he took you to your room. The sight of your bed was one that could’ve brought you to tears, and you happily crawled into it, curling up in a ball the moment your head hit the pillow.

Ghost stood by your bedside as he waited for you to get comfortable, before stepping out of the room. At first, you thought he left you without saying goodbye.

Your mind plagued you in those futile seconds. Was he mad at you? Did you disappoint him by going out and drinking again?

Then you heard the tell tale signs of him rummaging around in cabinets, and you could only guess he was in the kitchen. You continued to lay there patiently while he proceeded with whatever task he busied himself with, eyes staring into the darkness that filled the room.

When he returned, he was holding a glass of water, which he set carefully on the nightstand near your head.

You didn’t understand. Nobody had ever shown you such kindness before. Life had only ever given you the hands of people who would use you up until you were wrung dry. People always expected things in return, and your fear was making you wonder if that was what Ghost was expecting.

To make things worse, you practically invited that idea into his head by saying he was pretty.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper. It came out in a tone that revealed your hidden uncertainty, and he instantly took note of it from the way his eyes softened beneath the fabric of his mask.

“You’re drunk. Not goin’ to just leave you there to dehydrate.”

“No.” You shook your head, frowning up at him. “I mean, why are you doing any of this? The deal, helping me, watching me, I– I don’t understand. I can’t give you what you want.”

“And what is it that I want, sweetheart?” he asked you, crouching down by your bedside so he could be eye level with you. You wanted to look away, you should’ve looked away, but you had never seen such gentle eyes before.

“I… I don’t know. Sex? More money? Isn’t this all some sort of trick?”

“Sex? A trick?” His tone was slightly offended, perhaps even hurt, and you instantly wanted to take your words back. “No, sweetheart, that’s not why I’m doin’ any of this. I’m doin’ this ‘cause I care.”

“But why?”

The air filled with silence as we competed in a staredown, and the sobering side of you was regretting every moment of this conversation. Stupid girl, always ruining good things, why can’t you ever keep your mouth shut–

“I see myself in you,” he confessed, and you shut your mind up. You didn’t respond, only continuing to stare at him, waiting for him to continue. “You’re hurtin’. I can see that. Life’s treated you real bad, hasn’t it?”

His words felt both like salt being poured into your open wounds, while simultaneously placing a bandaid over them with loving hands.

“You’re the only person who’s ever tried to hire me to kill themselves. Couldn’t just leave you high ‘n dry like that, not when you’re hurtin’ that bad. I don’t want to kill you, sweetheart.”

“You don’t?”

“No.”

“But… you will, if I end up deciding that’s what I want, right?” You weren’t sure if you were convincing yourself or convincing him.

Ghost stared at you, eyes flickering over your face that was dimly lit up from the stray rays of moonlight peeking in through your sliding door of your balcony. Your eyes were slightly glossed over from both the alcohol and unshed tears that threatened to spill, and he wanted nothing more than to wipe them away, to encourage you to let them fall.

“Don’t know if I have the willpower to do that to you anymore, sweetheart.”

He stood up from where he was crouched beside your bed, and your eyes followed, staying locked on his.For a pause in time, the two of you said nothing, and the room filled with a deafening silence that made it hard to breathe.

It was broken when he carefully lifted his hand, reaching to your face to brush a stray hair that was hanging over your eyes. The rough pad of his finger lingered, tracing along your eyebrow and tracing out the feature before promptly pulling back.

“Get some rest,” he said, voice soft and quiet, but still with the tinges of gravelly undertone that made it sound like a sweet lullaby.

Your nod was confirmation for him to leave, and as he stepped out of your bedroom, you called out to him.

“Thank you for bringing me home, Ghost,” you thanked with a grateful smile.

He looked at you for a moment before smiling himself, evident in the way his eyes wrinkled.

“Call me Simon, love.”

#cod #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #call of duty #cod mw3 #cod x reader #cod fanfic #cod mwii #ghost simon riley #ghost x reader #hitman au #simon riley #i love them your honor

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merakiui · 3 days

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Can we talk about Azul being a big baby?

https://www.tiktok.com/@saltypinacolada/video/7361631572765871406

Throwing a tantrum as if hes not a grown ass man… I believe he wouldn’t want to show his darling this side of him cause he considers it his gross icky lil tako self, BUT HE DESERVES TO BE IMMATURE AND GROSS FROM TIME TO TIME. LET THE BABY TAKO OUT

Brat taming scenario or straight yandere tantrum 🤔 which would be better i wonder

(link)

AAAAA I LOVE HIM. ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა that's my beloved tako!!!!

I suppose (in his defense) he has every right to have a harsh meltdown like that, considering this is years and years of bottled negativity, insecurity, avarice, etc. Leona destroying the (large collection of) contracts and Azul losing at his own game were just the straws that broke the camel's back.

I think it's also important to note that Jade and Floyd (Azul's two closest friends) are unwilling to side with him this time and maybe Azul saw that as a threat to his own mental well-being. Jade and Floyd are usually easygoing and often on board for all of Azul's schemes, so this is one of the first times they're openly opposing him and telling him he can't do something (i.e., take everyone's magic or else he'll overblot). When Floyd tells him he's much lamer now than he ever was before Azul can't recognize their genuine concern for him. In Azul's mind, it's probably something along the lines of: if he loses the two people he's closest to, alongside all of the contracts he spent years amassing, then he truly doesn't have anyone or anything; he'll be back where he began: the lonely outcast everyone made fun of in his youth.

Additionally, he's on the verge of crying and Azul (who was bullied ruthlessly for being a crybaby) doesn't like showing any sort of weakness or vulnerability, especially when it comes to crying. But what else can you possibly do when the floodgates burst? When so much has been built up and held in, it's only fair that the breakdown is just as frightening and strong. Thus, he screams and cries; he reacts in extremes.

I really adore how volatile he is when he has his meltdown. Azul is emotionally vulnerable by default (which is why he masks all of that with his pompous theatrics), but in that moment he truly believes that if he doesn't have everything (powerful magic, good singing abilities, an endless supply of skills and talents, etc) he is nothing but the "dumb, clumsy, crybaby octopus" from his youth. He can't accept his past self, which is why he's always working tirelessly to be the "best version" of himself because he's afraid of going back to who he once was, as he wholeheartedly believes that version of himself is terrible when it never was.

AAAA FORGIVE ME. OTL I rambled too much about tako, but I love his tantrums and I agree!!! He deserves to be gross and icky and immature from time to time! A yandere tantrum....... orz orz I love writing Azul breaking down at minor and major inconveniences whenever his darling is involved, but I especially love it when he's tried so hard to get you to reciprocate his feelings and nothing's working!!! The type of yan with a mindset of "I really dislike having to act so callous, but it's for your own good." Azul putting you through sensory deprivation to break your mind a little so that, eventually, the next time he visits the dark, soundproofed room you're kept in you'll reciprocate with open arms, desperate to be loved and feel connected with someone.

#twisted chit chat #i love azul rage because it's the type that just builds and builds (festering beneath a carefully crafted surface)#and then one day it just bursts and he snaps

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cheriladycl01 · 2 days

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Better than me - Charles Leclerc x Reader P9

Plot: You are a rookie in your first f1 season, adding to the ever-growing amount of Brits performing in the grid

Credit to countingstars-17 for the GIF

Once you'd woken up and were told you wouldn't be able to race until Silverstone you were devastated.

You cried and cried until your mum pulled up your team principle phoned you and explained their was no way they were replacing you yet. You still had your seat.

You were still in the hospital by the time Hungary had come around and were forced to watch it on your iPad being told of by the nurses every time you got to excited.

Lando, Charles and Alex all had done special helmets for you being close to you. And they'd actually all attempted to call you and visit you. They'd gotten a few fleeting texts from you but that was about general stuff but as far as they were told you were refusing to have visitors which upset them all.

By the time Monza came two weeks later, you were so down in the dumps and even though you were out the hospital you couldn't bring yourself to go to the paddock.

And because of the long distance travel you also didn't attend Montreal. You watched at home with your parents who were just as worried about your mental health as they were with your physical health.

When Physio started with your personal trainer you were so demotivated and cried to him almost every day. But he was there for you the whole time, and he really shouldn't have been as it was private between the two of you, but whenever he was called to Germany to the Audi HQ he would tell Alex how you were doing, which in turn led Alex to tell the grid what was going on.

Monaco was the first race you attended even though a lot of people were apprehensive with you coming because of your injuries. But it was Monaco and you felt ready to see everyone.

You walked through the paddock and all the fans were shocked to see you there.

Strangely they were all super respectful, not crowding or touching you in places that may hurt and didn't stick around for long. It was a nice feeling being back in the paddock but almost felt like something was missing. You weren't going to be on track or racing.

"Y/N?" a voice behind you calls that you know all to well.

"Lan?" you smile and open your arms slowly, he comes closer to you tears in his eyes as he looks over you.

"I- I'm sorry its all my fault" he cries looking over you before carefully wrapping his arms around you. He yaps some more about how it was his fault and how he shouldn't be racing today it should be you and you had to literally stop him from talking.

"Lan, its fine. I'm not upset. I'm glad you are okay. It happens in racing and hey I'll be back racing in Silverstone hopefully" you grinned and you guys spoke for a while until he was needed else where. He really didn't want to leave but you'd practically forced him too.

Then Alex and Lily came, demanding why you didn't let them come see you and why you'd been living under a rock all this time.

"I'm sorry guys, but I was just really down with not being able to do much and you know it was hard after the accident coming to terms with everything. I was embarrassed and didn't want to see anyone" you'd explained and Lily tried to look furious but turned to thankful yet worried older sister in seconds, pulling you into a light hug in order not to hurt you while Alex rubbed your shoulder.

You all had a really heartfelt moment that was caught by some media teams, Alex and Lily dragged you back to the Audi garage and made sure you had a comfortable seat, everyone was really happy to see you again and you ended up being bombarded with questions.

You spent some time with the reserve driver who was happy to be filling in for you but knew this wasn't a free seat to take as he knew you'd be back and he knew Audi would want you back.

And afterwards you spend time watching free practice. It was always fun in Monaco and it was supposed to be your first year as a driver here, you'd yet to drive the historic track and you knew 2027 might be better for you but ... you couldn't help but feel that sinking sensation in the pit of your stomach.

You had what Amy Santiago had FOMOAW - Fear of Missing Out at Work.

The day was ending up and you were taking a slow walk back to the car where you parents were waiting to take you back to the hotel. Walking was still a little difficult and painful but you knew the more you moved in little increments the quicker you'd be back to racing.

"Y/N?" some shouts from behind you but it seems shocked and more like a question. You stand still for a second, trying to correlate that voice and of course it was Charles Leclerc.

"Hello Charlie" you say softly.

The accident had put a lot into perspective for you. Silly pettiness from you would have potentially cost Charles ever being able to understand you had forgiven him, if things had taken a turn for the worst in the hospital. And in fact you'd forgiven him a very long time ago but you didn't want to show that in fear of getting hurt again.

"Oh my gosh, you are here!" he says carefully looking over at you.

"Yeah, I'm here" you smile looking at him. He looked a little rough, not a bad rough but like all his usual pristine self-care had depleted.

"Look , i need to say this before you run away or leave I need to get it off my chest!" he lets out in a breath and you cant help but giggle a little.

"I'm not going too-" you start but he steps closer to interrupt you.

"Please just let me ... i need to explain my, what i did it was not right and I am sorry. I - i shouldn't have believed stupid stupid whispers around the paddock, and I shouldn't have let Ferrari make a complaint against you. I really like you. You are an incredible driver and I think you are going to come so far in the sport... i mean you already have its amazing but ... fuck I'm getting of track. What I'm trying to say is I'm sorry and can we please start over again as friends and can you forgive me for all those cruel things i said" he asks looking over your expression which was one of concentration hanging off every word he was telling you.

"Charlie... look i forgave you a long time ago. I knew you didn't mean it, you were just heated with the races. Like we all are... and you know Ferrari wouldn't have listened to you on a matter like this... so i no longer hold a grudge for any of it. Okay?" you smile and he looks shocked.

"So I am forgiven?" he asks and you nod, moving closer and placing a kiss on his cheek.

"Forgiven ... IF" you start with a smirk making him frown and his puppy eyes come out in worry.

"You buy me dinner. I'm starving and I'm not racing right now so I'm craving a really greasy pizza or cheeseburger" you smile and he nods.

"I- I can do dinner" he smiles and you nod walking away with a big grin on your face.

Charles was in shock, to the point he remained there until Carlos found him just staring into the abyss and he told him all about what had just happened.

And for you, well ...

The world, despite you not racing, felt righted.

For now.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #Charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc x you #cl16 one shot #cl16 x you #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #cl16

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watermelonlovershigh · 23 hours

Text

The Rated R Card Game {part 6.} (housemate!harry series)

Returning Favors {part 5.} (housemate!harry series) (SMUT)

AN: this part took me the longest to write because i couldn't get the wording right and kept having to switch things up. this is mainly a filler chapter meaning not much happens but will be needed for context later in the series. i hope you enjoy. let me know what you think. thank you for reading.

This story contains: mentions of bisexuality, mentions of threesomes, mentions of kissing, mentions of mommy and daddy kink, mentions of sexual stuff in general, mentions of a safe word being used, fluff

{ housemate!harry - friendrry - soft!harry - au!harry }

word count- 1,977

Your friends Mave and Charlotte come over to yours and Harry's house to eat pizza, drink wine, chat, and play a very rated R card game.

Friday has finally arrived and you are filled with excitement. Your friends Mave and Charlotte are coming over to meet Harry for the first time. After spending a few hours working on your computer, you got up and started tidying around Harry's living room, which was already clean as he maintains a fairly tidy house. You took out the card game you intend to play tonight and set it on the coffee table. The only thing left is the alcohol, but Harry will be picking some up on his way home from work.

After leaving the school where he teaches at, Harry drove to a nearby shop and obtained the wine you had requested. You'd asked Charlotte and Mave about their choice of alcohol and they recommended wine to prevent themselves from getting too intoxicated by stronger spirits. Upon arriving home, Harry placed the wine bottles in the refrigerator to chill, and then hurriedly went to take a quick shower.

At approximately seven o'clock, your friends arrived at your home via Uber, as they foresaw the possibility of becoming too intoxicated to drive home later in the night. You introduced them to Harry and they formed a liking to him instantly. In a playful manner, they whispered to you that they may just steal him away from you, that's how much they liked him. Plus, attractive wise, they thought he was hot.

Harry kindly ordered a pizza to the house and the four of you gathered in the living room, indulging in the large pizza accompanied by several glasses of wine. Essentially, you all spent a delightful two hours eating, drinking, and having great conversations in the living room. Mave and Charlotte made quite the impression on Harry. They were incredibly easy to be around and had a remarkable talent for lightening the atmosphere with their jokes, especially during moments of high tension. They possessed a fearless nature and were never hesitant to speak their minds.

Once everyone was stuffed with pizza, you pick up the card game you had sat on the coffee table earlier in the day and announce, "Okay, game time."

"How does this game work exactly?" Harry asks, followed by a giggle. Yep, he was definitely tipsy.

You open the box and pull out the stack of cards. You know there's a correct way to play this game but you wanted to make up your own rules, just to spice things up. "Okay, so basically I'm gonna leave the stack of cards in the middle of the table. We'll each take turns picking a card but to make it fun, we all have to potentially answer every question, no matter who pulled it. Each card has either questions or something we must confess. If you don't feel comfortable answering one then you must take a sip of wine. Got it?"

"Seems easy enough." Charlotte exclaims with a clap of her hands.

"Hey, can I pick first?" Mave asks eagerly and you all agree.

As everyone sits around the coffee table on the floor, Mave reaches for the top card and giggles as she silently reads it. "You've got to actually read it out loud." Charlotte remarks in a sassy tone.

"Okay, okay," Mave retorts before repeating what the card says out loud this time. "Have you ever made out with a guy in the back of a car before?"

You, Mave, and Charlotte each say "yes" with confidence before stealing a glance towards Harry, hoping to gauge his response to the question. To your surprise, he appears bewildered and voices his confusion. "What kind of questions are these? I was expectin' somethin' light-hearted, not about romantic encounters," he queries.

You pick up the game's box and point to the bottom right corner where it shows the R rating. Once he notices, he mutters an, "Oh fuck!", taking a swig of his red wine for dramatic effect. "But um, yes I have."

Charlotte and Mave are surprised to learn that he's kissed a guy. Not in a judgmental way but they are genuinely shocked considering how much you confide in them about Harry's feelings for you. It seems you forgot to mention that Harry was bisexual, but then realize it's not your place to inform them of that anyways. Charlotte boldly questions Harry, "You've made out with a guy before?"

Harry nods his head in agreement and casually states, "Yes, m' bisexual. Y/n didn't inform you of that?" Though he knows one's sexuality isn't something people tend to share, he knew you shared nearly everything with these two friends so he's surprised you didn't let his sexuality slip up in a conversation before. But knowing you didn't share makes him feel all warm inside. It shows how much you care and respect him.

The woman shakes her head to indicate she was unaware. Harry typically never feels anxious about sharing his bisexuality as he finds that most individuals are accepting or simply don't care. Although he occasionally encounters negative reactions, mostly from the people he's seeing, he makes an effort to try and not allow those to affect him.

"My turn," you announce, reaching for the next card to advance the game. "Ohhh, a confession. How intriguing. Do you tend to be more dominant or submissive in bed? Mhm...... as for me, it's quite simple. I can be either, depending on my mood."

"No way," Harry interjects, "m' also a switch. Just depends on the person and the mood m' in at that moment." As you glance at one another, you can feel a secret message being conveyed through just your eyes alone. One that's saying you're meant to be. A perfect match, some would consider. Because it's rare for both people in a relationship to be dominate some times and submissive other times.

Mave and Charlotte affirm they're both complete submissives, leaving Harry to select the next card. "Tell us about the most outrageous experience you've had during a sexual encounter. Uhm, let me think on that for a moment."

"Oh, I know." Mave speaks, "For me, I'd have to say being double penetrated."

"You what?" you gasp at her answer, unaware of this encounter she's had. She usually tells you everything but you guess she's been keeping this one a secret.

With a playful giggle, she admits, "Back in uni, I had a few threesomes, and one of them involved double penetration. It was painful at first but the pleasure that followed was incredible." Her confession triggers a vivid image of you in Harry's mind, arousing him at just the thought of having a threesome with you. But he wonders if you were open to that idea.

"Personally, I tied a man to the bed once and rode him while he wore a cock ring. Although it was pleasurable for me, the man experienced tons of discomfort. So I decided to let him come after an hour." you answer the question. It wasn't super outrageous but you weren't that freaky in bed. Again, all Harry can think about is you doing that to him and at this point he has to set one of the couch pillows in his lap without looking too suspicious. He's now actually hard in his pants.

After thinking for a minute more, Harry's ready to answer. "I guess my answer would be, this one time I let a girl fuck my throat with her strap-on. Let's just say my throat was bruised for days." Fuck, now it's you conjuring up images of possibly doing that to Harry. You don't own a strap-on but you sure as hell would go out and buy one if he agrees.

Charlotte optes to taking a drink of wine instead of answering and then picks a card beings it's her turn now. "Have you ever had to use your safeword during sex? Thankfully no. What about you all?"

Harry and Mave both said no as their answer, whereas you, on the contrary, chose to take a sip of wine. You could have easily said the truth, which would have been yes, but then would've had to provide an explanation for their curious minds. And you'd prefer not to do that in front of everyone, especially as it regards the situation where you had to use your safe word. It evokes a very unpleasant memory. Nevertheless, you can see a compassionate expression on Harry's face and have a feeling he'll bring it up at a later time.

The game continues with questions like, "Where is the most unusual place you have engaged in sexual activity?" "What is your preferred sexual position?" "Have you ever accidentally called out the wrong name during sex?" "Do you secretly have a mommy or daddy kink?" Harry's responses were as follows: in a club bathroom, preferring missionary with women to see their expressions and opting for the doggy style with men, almost moaning the wrong name (which happened to be yours), and has only ever jokingly used the terms daddy or mommy if his partner was interested in that kind of stuff.

Your responses to those particular questions consisted of: the bathtub, missionary or spooning position, almost saying Harry's name but correcting yourself before it was on the verge of slipping out, (though you didn't share to them it was Harry whoms name it was), and lastly, although you're not actually into the whole kink, you've humorously said daddy once to cater to your partner's wishes. Which made you cringe so bad immediately after.

By the time eleven o'clock rolled around, all of you were considerably intoxicated. Though most of you managed to answer every question, you've still been continuously sipping from your wine glasses with multiple refills. In a drunken manner, your friends suggested, "Maybe we should call an umb... uber...."

Rising on wobbly legs, Harry retorts, "Why don't you both stay if you want? I'm sure Y/n wouldn't mind you sleepin' in her bed, and she can sleep with me in mine. That way you won't have to go home drunk." Harry is literally the sweetest.

"You sure?" Mave asks, looking at both of you for confirmation.

You nod, agreeing, "Yeah, yeah. That's fine. Just don't puke in my bed, please." remembering all the times where they've gotten sick from being too drunk.

-------------------------------

With Mave and Charlotte settled in your bed, you made your way to Harry's room across the hall. He was busy arranging the pillows and covers. Just as you were about to join him in bed, you remembered, "Wait a minute, I need to use the bathroom."

Harry bursts into laughter. "Is that so? You didn't realize that when you were in the hallway?"

"Hey, no laughing at me!" You exit the room and hurry to the bathroom located in the hallway. Upon your return, Harry is already tucked in under the duvet, with only the lamp providing a dim light. As you join him, and he reaches over to switch off the lamp.

Now in the dark bedroom, Harry shuffles closer to you for a cuddle and whispers, "You're not gonna puke in my bed are you?"

You playfully swat at his chest and confirm, "No, I'm not that drunk, silly. But I will have a killer headache in the morning. Night."

"Night, sleep tight." Harry leans in and plants a tender kiss on your lips, momentarily catching you off guard. However, you quickly embrace the intimate moment, realizing that receiving these small, affectionate kisses from him for no specific reason is something you should start getting accustomed to. After all, it's a typical aspect of being in a relationship, isn't it?

As you gradually drift off to sleep, your mind becomes consumed by the lingering sensation of Harry's lips meeting yours and the burning curiosity to discuss the explicit answers he provided during the rated R card game earlier.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

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