#worse evillious

[kaitohateblog]

alternate version of this

either after filming waltz of the departed or what the waltz ACTUALLY was

[julicity]

SEBEK ZIGVOLT - OVERBLOT -

full size version

Please see the full sized version linked above! Since it’s been compressed pretty badly here...

And here’s a version without the unnecessary lightning background, and a face close-up without the glow effects.

ALRIGHT, so this is one of the biggest pieces I’ve done in a long while. I put a lot of work into this so I hope you all enjoy~

I’ve got a lot to say about this one, so read at your own leisure lol.

I think it’s worth leaving notes on my design choices for this one, so I’ll start with that.

First of all, Sebek's character is based off of lightning/thunder (obviously) and also Maleficent's crocodile minion, the latter which I incorporated more parts of (like the halberd and the pointed coattails like his croc tail). Also his phantom would be based on the croc minion character.

I originally wanted to give him more actual crocodile features, like a tail or scales or something, but it wasn't really working out the way I wanted, so I scrapped it.

Most OB’s have long, ripped clothing so I gave him more of a cloak akin to Maleficent’s, the shape of the collar specifically being the same as hers.

I added some spikes on the coat like crocodiles have down their back and tail.

I really like the leg pieces that Riddle & Leona had for their OB’s, and the weaving pattern also happens to make a zigzag lightning shape, so it fits.

I also like the OB designs that have super drippy blot on their arms.

Some things are just copied from his dorm uniform, like the waistband and belts, and the shoulder armour (not the spools of thread though...).

The left shoulder armour doesn't exist in the normal dorm uniform. OB Sebek has one made of blot because Sebek's biggest insecurity is that he's incomplete and will never be good enough due to being half-blood and he wants to be whole T^T

Lightning-shaped blot markings on his face of course. Mostly I just tried to make something that didn't look ugly... 

Lastly, I wanted to make his hair messier, but it would end up covering his beautiful face so I let it remain swept back - 3- (aka I couldn’t make it look nice).

So in terms of why Sebek might OB... he clearly has an intense, unresolved internal hatred for his human blood, due to the environment he grew up in. And the way he copes with these emotions is by taking it out on the people around him. It just seems like with the intensity of these feelings, if he were to keep it internalized, it would completely destroy him from the inside. And he just has NOT had the chance or know-how to learn to accept himself and therefore others. So of course, this is something he needs to work on but he definitely cannot do it alone. I think something traumatic does need to happen for him to realize and learn from his ways honestly. In terms of the canon, this will probably be due to Malleus' overblot or whatever shenanigans will happen in Book 7.... but Sebek himself overblotting would do just as well.

I think this fic does a really good job with building up Sebek's OB and his mindset throughout it all getting worse and worse... --> READ HERE It’s still in progress at the moment of posting but the after-blot plot is really wholesome too for us Sebek fans. EVEN IF you are not one you should still give it a read. (Just for full disclosure, my OB design is not based on the one described in this fic.)

Thank you for reading my rambles. I’ve got more angst coming ;>

[tiny-evillious]

Hänsel (it's him i promise). super eepy boy about to snooze for the night. just like me. dragging myself to draw this so i can finally end this horrid day.

[gecemi09]

the real reason people hated MA is because she was serving too much cunt

[ekwallace]

I’ve never had a maternal instinct at all, but what I do have is the inborn, primal urge to sometimes make a joke so comprehensively terrible that my niece and nephew, who can’t even agree that the sky is blue, are temporarily united in thinking I’m the worst.

[sylhea-raemi]

IM BRAINROTTING ABT EVICHRO

[cock-holliday]

A lot of trans spaces hate masculinity soo bad it’s unreal. I knew an AMAB nonbinary person who, to those who had never done the gender rodeo before, looked strikingly like a cis man. They were big, broad, with a thick scruffy beard. They dressed masculinely. It was clear by talking to them for even a second that their masculinity was incredibly queer, but to most people they wouldn’t read that way, even with pronoun pins displayed proudly on their chest.

They described themself as “soft masc” and their gender felt very similar to me to so many butches I had met. They toyed with the label themself. Their attraction to women fell under a pretty sapphic umbrella and in plenty of cases were welcomed by queer women, trans and cis alike.

But often they felt more comfortable in transmasc spaces because, as was apparently a cardinal sin in many transfemme spaces, they liked their masculinity.

They got accused of faking being trans. They were implied to be stealing space from trans women. And then accused by wlws of being a predatory cis man invading space to get to women. They constantly had to walk a narrow path to not be seen as something sinister because they weren’t feminine.

Because masculine is seen as equivalent to “man” and “man” is bad. It’s predatory and violent only ever and always.

And over and over and over and over again anti-masculinity folks claim that this stance protects women and transfemmes. But you are never ever ever going to be normal about “women and nonbinary folx” if you hate masculinity so bad! You will never be normal about butches. You will never be normal about transmascs. And you will never be normal about ANYONE who is AMAB. Even the feminine ones.

A trans woman who is a masc lesbian is going to be a predator to you. A trans woman who doesn’t pass well enough for you is going to be a predator to you. A trans woman who LIKES her masculinity or masculine features is always gonna be a faker trying to evilly sneak into your sacred spaces.

Cis women for sure push this shitty narrative, as do trans men and transmascs who think they’re falling on their sword for Women™️ to atone for the sin of being masculine or worse, men; but oof so do trans women and transfemmes who think policing binary gender conformity will protect them.

[bllk-hq]

Hi! Can I ask for part two for the ask "a new person came to NRC and catches the eyes of Y/n and makes the characters get jealous" with Jade, Idia, Vil and Malleus

A New Person Catches Their S/O Attention ! !

Part 1 ~

Note: Back in the role of things~ This post was so late I am so sorry 〒▽〒 . . . BUT- I hope you guys enjoy reading this! <3

CHARACTERS: Jade , Idia , Vil , & Malleus .

TW: Mentions of making out [Malleus] . possessiveness . (non-specified pronouns for reader~) . [If you find anything else dm/send me a chat!]

.

.

Jade Leech :

He of course hates it. The feeling of the tightness in one's chest, the need for peace to be resolved. The utter feelings of jealousy are not a foreign one of his. Seeing your beautiful eyes wander away from him- and onto a brand new specimen.

Jade views this as competition, he aches for this new student to be gone. It gets even worse if he were to see you two talking. Though this whole ideal is frustrating... he can't help but chuckle. So this is the familiar jealousy that is seen in all of those teen dramas? Hilarious.

Jade seriously can't forgive himself for being this weak, but for you, he'll keep wearing a smile while you and the new student talk.

It was exactly when period 2 was going to end. You and the new kid were talking to each other since you both had a project for ELA that you both had to make up. As you both were getting ready to leave the classroom, you were then stopped as you noticed Jade walking inside the classroom.

He had a nice smile as he walked to you and the new kid. Jade then stood looking directly at the student with jealous eyes. "Hello, I'm Jade Leech. I have come to inform you that you'll no longer be working with Y/N-san." The students' face morph into confusion and annoyance.

"What do you exactly mean-... Jade-Senpai?" The students' questions with a dramatic sigh at the end. Jade's eyes then narrow as he looks down at the student, partly figuring out what to say as his excuse for this students’ persistence. Jade exhales dramatically as he continues to show this new student that he's not a spineless person.

"Trein-Sensei has made a mistake with the partner arrangements... Yes, I know he said them himself but we all make mistakes. It's proven. See? These are the list of names that he was reading off when he announced the partners." Jade says in a fake disappointed tone as he holds up a piece of paper in front of you and the new student.

Jade chuckles inside as he looks at the students' shocked and embarrassed face. And then watches as the student grabs his stuff and goes to look for his partner instead. You look at Jade confused, but not surprised. He chuckles evilly to himself as he smiles, "Now then- shall we go to your dorm to start our project, Y/N-Chan?"

Idia Shroud :

This introvert feels nothing but ick. He stares at the new student with disgust and jealousy. It's too embarrassing to go through this! Idia can't help but want to go up to his newly found rival and tell him to find his own waifu.

But of course, Idia is an introvert and curses himself for this. Especially for times like this. While you and the new student are talking, he's too busy making a plan for your attention to get off of the new student. Oh, how he just wishes that you weren't the main character.

He's lost in his own thoughts of jealousy and envy. Trying to make it not so obvious that he's staring daggers at the unknowing student. Comparing this whole scenario to one in an anime. Idia then gets an idea and grins evilly.

But then later as you and the new student are hanging out at lunch, in the corner of your eye you see Idia nervously walking towards the both of you. The student notices you staring at something and frowns. Idia then stands next to you and fidgets with his fingers.

"Y/N-Shi... D-Do you want to play this new game with me?..." Idia voices quietly, but enough for you to hear. You chuckle to yourself as you then nod. Meanwhile the new student pouts, "Y/N-Senpai...~ Aren't we supposed to study for Crewel-Sensei's new test together?"

The new student voices as they then pout while looking at you. Idia is taken aback and annoyed, did you not tell this new student that you two were dating? He's on the brink of his hair turning orange here. Idia groans and mutters to himself, "Seriously?..."

It seems like they both want your attention.

You then sigh and look at the new student, tired. "Sorry about this '(Student)'-kun, but we'll have to push our study sesh' later, okay? I barely get to hang out with my boyfriend anymore. You understand it right?"

Both Idia and the new students' eyes were surprised at your sudden bold move of calling Idia your boyfriend. Idia slightly smiles to himself as he looks at you lovingly in his burning yellow eyes. Finally feeling like he won the battle of being jealous.

The new student sighs disappointingly as he then backs off, looking at the table in defeat. Idia then puts his sleeves over his mouth as he looks at you, "You didn't have to go all out you know... you hurt the guys' ego." He mutters to you, ending with a chuckle at the end.

You shrug as you whisper to him, "It was going to happen either way," You say bluntly as Idia can't help but try to contain his smile after your display of bluntness. "Now what game was it that you wanted us to play together?" You then announce.

Vil Schoenheit :

Jealousy... What an ugly emotion. Vil knows the feeling and the description of jealousy all too well. It's one of his most common emotions in fact. He had feuds all of his life. Whether that'll be with a co-worker, fellow students, film directors, or even a certain someone.

Vil though is extremely blunt with his own jealousy. His mind is basically planning to make everyone in the whole room know that he is jealous. Though he can't exactly blame you for being interested in a new person, that's how he met you after all.

But it's just this new student that strikes a nerve with him. The way that you two look at each other... the way that the student looks at you... it's annoying. Vil feels too embarrassed to talk about this to anyone, except to anyone but Rook.

Vil rants on and on about this newfound drama about you and this new student during his one-on-one time with Rook in every Alchemy class. Telling Rook that this new student is stealing you away from him explaining everything dramatically.

"Roi du Poison... I never saw you so stressed before that time at the VDC. You need to calm down before you get wrinkles." Rook then explains to Vil, but it is to no avail because Vil is on his last straw. It has been only 3 days and Vil was already putting that new student on his watch-list.

"I have no idea what to do Rook, Y/N hasn't even complimented me on my new choice of makeup today. That new student is taking all of their attention away from me." Vil glares at Rook as he tightens his hand around the bottle of chemicals that he is holding.

"How is it fair that Y/N finds that new student more interesting than me? They're plain. Their hair, fashion, and don't even get me started on the monstrosity that they call their own makeup." Vil complains with his eyes full of rage, not even realizing how hard he is holding onto the bottle of chemicals.

Rook's eyes widen at the sudden interruption of Vil's thoughts, as his face shifts into worry. "Vil, please. I think you might be overthinking this." Vil then glares at Rook as he takes the bottle of chemicals away from his gloved hands. But it's just then that Vil suddenly gets an idea.

"That's it... I'll have to get Y/N to ignore that new student! Putting a simple spell on that new student- haha~ This is the best idea I've had in a while~~" Vil laughs to himself as Rook looks at him, confused and not surprised.

"Roi du Poison, I know you think this is a good idea to talk about this- but our classwork may be more important right now. We wouldn't want it exploding would we?" Rook sighs as he then smiles at Vil and puts his hands on his hips.

"Now if you could please, Roi du Poison- hand over the vial on the shelf so this potion doesn't explode everywhere. Ruining your hair and makeup." And with a swift motion- Vil then rushes gracefully and grabs the vile.

Malleus Draconia :

The one and only most possessive dragon that there is at NRC. He would have never known about this new student, but since he is a Dormleader Lilia has told him about it during lounge hours. It intrigued him, a new student? In the middle of a school year? He never knew that late registrations were a thing at NRC.

He smiled to himself as he asked for details from Lilia, wondering if this new student was going to be in his dorm. To which Lilia responded by saying that they weren't, and instead they were going to be in Ramshackles'.

His eyes widened in surprise as he wondered if you already met this student. Malleus then went back to drinking his tea as he walked to his dorm room. Moments later when Malleus was minding his own business reading a book in his chair by a window, Sebek suddenly burst through the door.

Malleus glances at Sebek from his book, slightly annoyed, and speaks up. "What is it, Sebek?" He says calmly, furrowing his brows at Sebek's scared face. Sebek tries to catch his breath as he puts his hands on his knees. "Young Master! I have some bad news!" Sebek shouted as loud as thunder, causing crows to leave their trees.

Malleus raises one of his eyebrows as he then shuts his book, placing it on his lap. "What is it, Sebek? I trust that it is something urgent this time. Otherwise, you'll have to report this to Lilia." As Malleus's eyes drift back to opening his book, Sebek then suddenly yells very loudly.

"Young Master! I have come to inform you that your... partner- Y/N has found interest in someone else! This is urgent!" Malleus' eyes are suddenly shot open by this bold statement, but before he can say anything he is interrupted by his own thoughts about whether Sebek was truly telling the truth.

"If you pardon me, Sebek," Malleus said as he closed his eyes, getting up from his chair and walking out of his room, and downstairs to the entrance of Diasomnia.

It was then exactly 9 p.m. You and the new student were studying in the lounge area when you both suddenly heard a knock. You then get up from your seat on the couch as you walk to the door. The new student watched the door open cautiously from his seat.

Once you open the door you see a disappointed Malleus, he frowns at you as he looks over to the open door to the lounge. His eyes widen as he glares at the new student then changes his stare back to you. "Child of man... If I may ask, are you cheating on me?" Malleus' normal face slowly turns back into a frown as he looks at you.

"Huh? No, of course not." You say bluntly as you look up at Malleus and smile. Even though Malleus wasn't buying it so much, he could tell you weren't doing anything like cheating based on your voice. Malleus then sighs and retreats his gloomy and slightly angered attitude.

"That's good to hear... I was afraid for once that Sebek was saying something true." Malleus then slightly smiles and laughs to himself. The new student looks over at the two of you confused, "Y/N?? Are you good?" You look back at the new student as you then turn to Malleus.

"Think that's my cue. I'll send you a letter later, okay?" You rush as you then wave and try to close the door. But instead, Malleus then holds the door open. "Malleus?" You question with your head tilted as you get interrupted suddenly by a fast grab at your hand. Before you could even say anything you felt Malleus press his lips against yours.

[luveline]

Jade my dear I just had an idea for prince Steve… what if he got hurt (fencing or something??? honestly idk) & reader freaks out even though their relationship is fairly new? Or idk how your soulmate au works but maybe she can feel it too? Or idk!! I’d just love to see what you could do with that, but no pressure either way 🫶🏼

ty for requesting!! fem!reader, 1.1k

“Holy fuck!” Steve says, yanking his leg back from the doctor’s cold hands, and hurting his knee worse than ever. “Fuck!” 

“Steven,” she says with an eye roll, used to his lack of carefulness by now. 

“What the fuck.” 

“It’s not that bad. You haven’t even torn anything. It’s a sprain at worst.” 

“I will never walk again.” 

“Fingers crossed,” Robin says, kicking her legs up onto the end of his medical bed. Her hat slips down into her eyes, her naked knees red from ten minutes in the grass trying to persuade Steve into standing again. 

“It hurt so bad. Are you sure I can’t have morphine?” he asks. 

The doctor tightens the bandages one last time around Steve’s knee. “Absolutely not. I’ll make you a peppermint tea for the inflammation. You’ll be better by tomorrow.” 

It throbs evilly. Steve doesn’t believe even for a moment that his knee will be better by tomorrow, he can’t walk without help. “I want to see another doctor,” he decides. 

“Sure,” the doctor says. “Tomorrow.” 

Steve sinks down into the pillows unhappily. What kind of royal life is this? Nobody ever takes him seriously, they couldn’t care less that he’s injured, and now he’s doomed to sit inside for who knows how long in the suffocating heat and the smothering presence of his attendants. Worst day ever. 

“Where’s Y/N?” he asks, because if he’s going to suffer, he’s going to be spoiled about it. “I want to see her.” 

“She’s in her political etiquette class,” Robin says from under the hat, unmoving. 

“That’s dumb. She doesn’t like politics or etiquette. Can we have her pulled out?” 

“Sure, Steve, we’ll disrupt her entire day because you slipped on dry grass.” 

Steve tries to catch the eye of one of the serfs lining the room and by the door, but they’re smart to his ways, and they look away. He doesn’t care. He’s a prince. “Hello? Can someone go and get her, please?” 

They all stand still but uncomfortable for a moment, and then one says, “She’s coming down the hall as we speak, your highness.” 

“Aw, yes,” he says, propping up on his elbows to look out the doorway. There you are, in a pretty, breezy dress you aren’t used to wearing and your hair in one of the new fashions, silver bracelets tinkling on your wrist as you speed walk to the door.

“Hello,” you say, breathless, still shy despite having married him and kissed him more times than he can count (seventeen).

“Sweetheart,” he says, “I’ve been grievously harmed.” 

“They told me, and I–” You rub your index fingernail between the thumb and index of the other hand. “I can feel it,” you say, an embarrassed and adorable smile on your lips as you waver in the door. “Are you okay?”

“You have to sit down and have some morphine too,” he says quickly. 

“You aren’t having any morphine,” Robin says. 

You weave around servants and the dressing table to stand by his bed. He’s pleased to realise you want to sit hip to hip with him, moving over despite his screaming knee, and putting his arm behind you as you hoist yourself onto the bed. “Hello,” he says, audibly charmed by you as he kisses your cheek. He rubs the kiss with the back of his finger. “Didn’t hurt you too much, did I?” 

“It feels like I’ve had a cramp,” you say. “But it’s not– I can’t imagine how it feels for you.”

“I’m sorry to hurt you,” he says.

“Ew,” Robin grumbles, covering her face with skinny hands. 

“Sorry, Robin.” You wipe your forehead. “I freaked out.”

“Don’t say sorry to her,” Steve says, putting his hand on your hip just to watch you fluster, “she’s bitter. Let me rub your knee.”

“What about your knee? What did you even do?”

“I fell. A little. A minor fall.” 

“Will you be alright?” 

“Honey, I’m in agony, and they won’t treat me, and you’re sitting with me, so I’m already fine.” 

Confusion in your gaze melds to sweetness. You’re practically heart-eyed leaning into his side, wrapping your arm around his stomach. You rarely initiate hugs from fear of being overbearing, and he can’t believe his luck. He’ll be eating grass more often. 

“I can feel that you aren’t fine. Are you going to be okay? Seriously, Steve, are you hurting?”

Your soul mark burns a light blue. He’s narrowed your colours down, he thinks, maybe, though they tend to change. Blue means love and affection. He’s a more classic guy —when he’s in love, his soul mark burns a gaussian pink just as it does now. 

“Oh, you can feel it?” he asks.

“Don’t start.” 

“We’re so connected,” he says quietly, teasingly, a flirtation for your ears alone. “It’s almost like we’re soulmates or something. Suns, I wish. I’d be a lucky guy, huh? Connected to a girl like you?” He draws a line from just below your ear to your chin. “I’d feel like a prince among men.” 

“Stop,” you whisper, in a tone that suggests you’d very much like him to continue. 

Nonetheless, he drops his hand in favour of kissing you instead, pressing his lips softly to your cheek. His leg throbs with angry pain and a headache brews between his eyes, but he’s not kidding about being fine. Everything feels better when you’re with him. You truly are the half to his whole, no matter how new your relationship might be. 

“How was your morning?” he asks. 

“Being a princess is awful.” 

“Yes, but it suits you.” 

You turn your face to his, close enough to kiss. It’s very tempting for Steve, but he lets you say what’s clearly on your mind. “I had a funny feeling about you this morning, like something bad was going to happen, and I wanted to be with you in case but they wouldn’t let me out of meditation. Do you think I was having a premonition?”

“Maybe. They wouldn’t let you out?” 

“Morine said I need to have better discipline if I’m going to be queen.” 

He laughs and wraps his arms around you completely for a full, loving hug. “You will be queen, no ifs about it, so you need to start acting like one and have more hissy fits to visit your pathetic husband.” He kisses your cheek three times in quick succession. 

Your soul mark intensifies slowly, until it burns a beautiful, coruscating blue that dances over the skin of your wrist as you hug him back. “You’re the opposite of pathetic.” 

“No, I was. Ask Robin.” 

“He was,” Robin says. 

“But I’m totally cooler now,” he promises. 

You let your face fall into the curve of his neck, tickling him with your smile. “You’re so cool, Steve.” 

“My lovely liar.” He kisses the top of your head. 

“As touching as this is, I have your tea ready now, young Steven,” the doctor says. 

Steve pretends he can’t hear her. 

[millienia]

a thousand faces in a thousand places

synopsis: the housewardens with a Sparkle (from honkai: star rail) reader. (headcanons)

gn!reader + reader is not yuu

RIDDLE ROSEHEARTS

uhm! 😨 (scared)

there is not a single universe where this man, pre-overblot, did not hate you.

so, how did you two meet? considering your mysterious, yet still childish personality- you probably got sorted into heartslabyul!

you’re basically like alice but.. so. much. worse. 

pre-overblot he’d, most likely, be very cross with you.

do you know how many times you’ve been off-with-your-head-ed? because it’s happened a LOT. and i mean, a lot a lot.

you were in and out of everywhere, were rather cryptic, and had a strong mischievous streak.

how could he NOT be annoyed? smh.

though, post-overblot, i think he’d be more relaxed.

of course, he’d still be exasperated, but not to the level of annoyance he had before. progress, woop woop !!!

LEONA KINGSCHOLAR

i am still scared. not for you, but for leona.

he’d be annoyed, i suppose. you’re like a creepy, more out there, more literally insane version of ruggie.

so, how did you two meet? it’s similar to how yuu and the lion met, actually. except.. there’s kind of a difference.

whereas yuu stepped on his tail (by accident!), causing leona to go “ooh i’m gonna eat you” like a shark on steroids, YOU were the one who.. tried to eat him.

picture this, leona sleeping on the botanical garden, you seeing his tail and immediately going

how romantic a meeting! be still, my heart! meetcute who?

you immediately started laughing hysterically when his startled awake gaze met your terribly amused eyes, so the impression you left to him.. eh.

you probably started a “Call Leona ‘Unca Weona’” trend on MagiTok (that cater undoubtedly joined in on), so he’s probably pretty annoyed at you.

— you’ve also probably used his money to fund some performances.

AZUL ASHENGROTTO

“you have bewitched me body and soul. 🤩” “HOW DID YOU GET INTO MY HOUSE”

he’s probably mildly terrified of you and your absolutely horrendous schemes.

so, how did this lovely pair meet? WELL.

azul, doing paperwork in his office or whatever he does, looking like he sniffs lint, jolts when jade enters abruptly.

it’s unlike the eel’s usual respectful manner, so he’s pretty confused, immediately going “what is it?”

a sheepish jade smiles awkwardly and goes to say something like, “blah blah vanished into thin air before they could pay.”

azul is BEWILDERED. vanished??

so, obviously, righteously wanting his money, he tells jade and floyd to go look for you.

they did not find you.

fun.

KALIM AL-ASIM

he has a new bestie now!

you two are great friends, your chaotic (one more so than the other) tendencies and fun-loving personalities make you a great pair.

jamil would say otherwise.

you two go on happy little excursions around the campus, terrorizing a few people here and there, and honestly just having the time of your lives.

he was so glad you weren’t his friend just for his wealth, but because you liked his personality as he liked yours.

though, you, as someone who can only have their interest piqued by amusement, didn’t understand why he’d think you were using him.

you wear the most stupid matching shirts (that kalim bought and jamil tacitly approved) and walk around, happily playing and leaving only destruction in your wake.

VIL SCHOENHEIT

you’re fashionable, he likes you.

with your skill in acting, you’re probably in the film studies club, which is most likely how you two met.

he admires your.. cough, dedication. and he also thinks your personality is a bit (is it?👀).

“your dedication to being you is admirable.” “hehe thanks but wtf🥰”

as literally everyone is, kalim not included, he’s pretty exasperated by your chaos-causing tendencies and unhinged personality.

illusion magic is your jam, so just imagine how shocked he was when looking into his mirror and seeing your evilly-grinning visage instead of his own face.

(rook approves.)

talking about rook, a curious vil had asked the hunter to.. stalk you for a while, because he was confused if you were really the person you portrayed yourself as.

a laughing rook gave the report that you had found him out and asked if he was close to his housewarden because he stripped himself naked and apologized for his crime of liking neige.

vil is flabbergasted.

IDIA SHROUD

on one hand, he’s terrified, and on the other- he thinks you’re funny.

you come up with the most unhinged insults, and you always get the last word- he thinks you’re admirable.

your level of extrovertness is shocking to him.

first kalim, now you? he is Shaking His Head™.

how you first met doesn’t matter, what matters is what he accidentally said when first meeting you and having a good short chat.

“mesugaki..” he mumbled in the middle of your sentence.

your ears were good. his ears were working well enough to hear his own damn self.

he wants to cry. he wants to dig a hole in the ground and bury himself in it.

“hikikomori.” you immediately responded.

critical hit! idia will have to stay inside his room for three weeks, tell ortho he loves him..

you’d say you two get along well, idia would say otherwise.

MALLEUS DRACONIA

he enjoys your rambunctious personality. he’s normally chilling quietly in the corner, so having you drag him around probably does wonders for how people see him.

he approves (sebek does NOT).

he’s sometimes concerned. he knows humans don’t live long, will you Doing What You Do somehow make your lifespan even shorter? 

you’re just being you and he’s standing menacingly right beside you. imagine how that looks to other people.

your local terrorist gremlin and THE malleus draconia. standing next to eachother. chilling.

you probably call him “that guy with the horns”, or something more animal aligned.

like “ram horns boy”. 

lilia probably laughed at it, silver didn’t know if he should’ve felt offended for malleus or if it was a friendly joke, and sebek is going to use it as a horror story for the future generations of his family.

you’re just causing chaos and he’s there like 🧍😄

[kaitohateblog]

factually correct venomania will become real in 52 seconds (maybe)

[arminsumi]

. . . 彡 🗑️ trash draft: goodboy façade.

NOTE: i present to u... nerd armin crumbs. i've sat on this thing for months, it was part of a longer fic that i had planned out but it was too much to write for me so i gave up on it lol

🔞 minors don't read or interact / n.sfw / smut / 18+ content

WARNINGS — stereotypes, m*sturbation, sending nxdes for a paid dare, mentions of alcohol but not being drunk, mean reader, min's fantasies include creampies, lmk if i have missed a warning thank u

🍒 — J ⋅ reblogs and comments help a lot ! enjoy reading :)

He was sick of it. Sick of seeing that red tint on your lips. Sick of the way his pants tightened up at your flirting. Sick of only having your lips around his dick in his fantasies.

And good god, he had an endless stream of fantasies. As far as his imagination's concerned, you've had sex with him every day.

His fist isn't enough. His daydreams of you aren't enough. He needs to really feel you, or he might actually explode.

But despite his overwhelming lust, his hands are tied behind his back, and his shirt collar is as pristine as his goodboy façade.

You know how you turn him on, in fact you're sorely aware. It's almost amusing to see him suffer.

He blushes up to his ears when you compliment him. His pants tighten when you murmur dirty jokes into his ear. He nearly chokes on air when you 'accidentally' press your thigh against his during Levi's lectures.

Your scent lingers on his T-shirt and he can't help but inhale them and start rubbing his hardening cock through his sweatpants.

He's focusing hard on the image of you pawing at his bulge, teasing him for being too wimpy to make a move himself. His fantasy grows bigger with each stroke of his hand, his pretty pink tip is flushed and throbbing underneath the grey fabric. The outline of his cock looks like something right out of a hentai, and the same goes for his moans.

He muffles his whimpers on his hand, imagining that it's your lips muffling the sound instead. He gives his aching cock a few squeezes through his sweatpants. He heard a rumor that you tend to tease like that.

Just as he gets into it, his phone erupts with dinging notifications. Right then, it's the most annoying sound on earth. He's torn right out of his fantasy of you.

The repetitive sound gets on his nerves, that is, until he checks who its from, and sees that it's you messaging him.

His jaw fucking drops at the message. His brain short circuits. Is his vision deceiving him? Is this real life right now? He's just about losing it.

Meanwhile, you're giggling over your phone screen with your girl friends. The time glares at you in the corner; 2:45 am.

Everyone at this party thinks that you're wasted, but that's one of the many talents you possess; acting drunk when actually you're as sober as a priest.

Your girl friends can't stop with their stupid, drunk giggles.

"Alright, I did it. Pay up." You smile evilly over at your favorite blond, Tori.

She groaned and pulled out her phone. Within a couple of minutes, you received a notification that your wish list was 'anonymously' purchased.

"Thanks, Tori, 'love you!" You coo and smile, pulling her in for a hug.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it..." She giggles to herself, "Armin is probably too prudish to stare at it too long, you know."

Your smile morphs into a cruel smirk. In this friend group, there is no debate about Armin's 'prudishness'. What's the problem with being a virgin at twenty-two years old? Nothing at all, there's nothing wrong with that; but your opinions have molded to fit the shape of your friends, haven't they? So you just agree that Armin is the biggest prude at your college.

And that poor boy, that poor boy, he's laying in bed freaking out over the fact you sent him a nude of yourself, meanwhile you're getting back to partying.

You did not just accidentally send him your best nude, there's no way.

What's worse than the lack of context is the fact you went offline right after he read the message. There's no way, he thought.

Armin can't even form a thought. His eyes are just glued to his screen. He subconsciously brought his face closer, and his hand dove under his pants.

There's no way it was an accident, he knows that, he's not an idiot. He's the valedictorian of your college.

Whimpers fill Armin's dorm room. His mind is racing. Heart palpitating. Your name falls off his lips while he approaches one of the best orgasms he's had in a while.

Before he knows it he's spurting hot ropes of his cum all over his shirt, the shirt that smells like your scent. Your name echoes off his walls, and in his mind he's just deliciously filled you up to the brim with his milky white release.

[irishmammonagenda]

Boop!- Obey Me x Reader

Summary: You go on a mission to boop, as per usual chaos ensues. Word Count: 3.5k Warnings: Female Reader (implied), i dont really think there's anything else but if you can see something lmk and i'll add a warning

very obviously inspired by tumblr's boop event

dividers by @saradika-graphics

"Hello Michael!" You greet, signature foxy grin on your face. Michael looks up from where he's playing Connect Four with a man in robes and waves at you.

"Hiya MC!" He puts the palms of his hands on the soft cloud ground and leans back on them, he's bare chested in the heat, though he's adorned himself with waist beads and arm bands, firm muscles on display. His long curly blond hair is in intricate braids, small ornaments threaded through it. He grins up at you, bright red eyes shining under the light of the Celestial sun. "What's brought ya up to the Celestial Realm today?"

"I am evil. I am very evil Michael." You say seriously.

The other man laughs, though not unkindly. His tanned skin shimmers ethereally under the light, dark brown eyes stare up at you, rich like soil after the morning due. Dark waves and soft curls frame his face, some soft stubble one his jawline, barely noticeable. "I'm sure you're not evil." He says kindly.

You stare at him, before smiling as well, touched. "Aww thanks! And you are?"

The man smiles, reaching his hand up, Michael takes that time to sneakily move one of the coins the man had put down a slot over. "I'm Jesus, it's nice to meet you MC."

You cough. "You're Jesus?"

"Yes." He nods, "A lot of people are shocked when they first meet me...something about expecting me to look like Da Vinci's gay lover."

You nod, dumbfounded.

Michael, sensing your inner turmoil, and also needing to keep Jesus' attention elsewhere so he could continue cheating- winning creatively in Connect 4, clears his throat, "So what's brought you to the Celestial Realm and made you claim that you're evil?"

This makes you grin, "Well, my dearest Michael....have you heard of boops?"

Michael straightens up a little bit, Jesus watches him intently, before fixing the board to its original state whilst the Archangel is distracted.

"No I have not...Why, what are they?" Michael asks, signature mischievous grin on his face. "They sound fun."

"Well I'm glad you asked Michael!" You grin, before leaning in and whispering into his ear. The added proximity made you realise he smelt of pine cone and fresh rain.

Michael giggles evilly, turning over to Jesus, before reaching a dark, jewel adorned hand and booping his nose. "Boop!"

Jesus just smiles, Crucifixion was worse. "It's your go, Michael."

"Oh of course! MC wait for this game to be over! I have...uh..business to attend to in the Devildom!"

You and Jesus share a look.

Michael looks over at you two, "You coming Jesus?"

The man smiles gently, "No thanks, I'm still traumatised from that one time when Satan tormented me in the desert."

"Oh okay...." Michael deflates the tiniest smidge before looking back at the board, spluttering. "Hey you moved the pieces!"

Jesus snorts, "Yeah, I moved the pieces back from where you tried to cheat."

"Lying's a sin." Michael huffs.

Jesus laughs, "Was that an admition of guilt?"

Michael falls onto his back dramatically, dark skin shining in the Celestial Realm's blessed light. "Ugh! Woe is me! This is worse than the time that one Irish kid got me confused with Michael Collins!"

Jesus pats his shoulder in pity. "Easter's a hard time for all of us."

Michael blinks at the scars on Jesus' palms from the nails and bites back a very bad Cross joke. "You could say that again."

After the game of Connect 4 ended, (Michael lost) you and the Archangel said your goodbyes to Jesus and began your journey down to the Devildom. Michael walks beside you, a good bit taller than you. Michael having swapped out his less than covering attire for a flowy white flare sleeved top that you'd imagine a pirate or a Victorian would wear, the lace buttons are undone for the most part, as per usual. You'd come to learn that the Archangel hated top buttons with a burning passion.

"I call Lucikins." Michael says with about as much seriousness as a 10 year old calling shotgun on the front seat of the car. So very serious.

"Fine. I call Mammon." You reply, looking up at him, as if daring him to try and boop your first man before you could. He pouts, but relents.

"I call Satan then." Michael blinks back at you with crimson eyes.

"No why?" You sulk.

Michael shrugs. "He's my nephew. I get to boop his nose it's the law."

"No it's not."

"Yeah it is!"

"Prove it then." You huff.

Michael turns around and you hear fidgeting before he hands you a paper napkin with writing on it. You notice the fountain pen he sneakily snuck back into his trouser pocket and glare at him, before reading the napkin.

The Eleventh Commandment: Thou shall let Michael boop his nephew's nose.

You hum, "Something's telling me this is fake."

Michael gasps incredulously, as if offended by the very notion, he places a hand over his breast, where his heart is. "How dareth thou! Truly, 'tis a crime against nature to speak such filth about the Holy Word. A crime against God I daresay!"

"Okayy...drama king."

Michael gasps again. "Alas! Thou speaketh such filth! Such blasphemy to thee! Thy words...such horrors! Cursed are thou amongst humankind!"

You deadpan. "I'm taking away your Shakespeare rights."

"Try it I dare you." Michael challenges, red eyes gleaming with something predatory. "You can boop Simeon."

You grin. "Yay!"

"I call Luke."

Your grin drops. "What the frickety flip that's my son."

Michael's brows furrow. "He's my son too what the flip."

You gasp, bringing your hands to your mouth. "Did we?..."

Michael's eyes widen, he pulls his top up and counts his ribs, losing count several times because you keep adding random numbers in. He looks up at you.

"Did we have a child out of Wedlock?!"

You and Michael look at each other in object horror. Both conveniently ignoring the fact that Luke technically came into existence millennias before you.

"I think we did...." You place your hand over your brow like a Victorian woman seeing the ankles of her secret lesbian lover for the first time.

Michael follows suit.

"Michael....I fear we might be sinners...."

"Well you know what they say in the human world MC...." Michael sniffles, looking away from you dramatically. "Sinner sinner chicken dinner...."

You pause, breaking character. "Is it not Winner winner chicken dinner?"

Michael shrugs. "Not like I care."

You parrot his movement, shrugging your shoulders back as well, before the horror creeps back onto your expression. "But...Simeon and Barbatos also see Luke as their son...."

Michael looks at you wide eyed, grabbing you by the shoulders, "MC! We have to count their ribs!"

You put your head in your hands, "Two angels, a demon and a human with angel blood that's somehow an angel....our son is a hybrid!"

Michael gasps. "Hybrid princess?"

You do a double take. "Why do you know what gacha is." You breath out, looking at Michael in genuine fear.

"I wasn't a gacha kid don't worry! Levi was though! He'd show me his little Gacha stories that he made...." Michael looks nostalgic. "Such an adorable little weirdo....he gets it from Lucifer y'know."

"If I described Lucifer as an adorable little weirdo I think he'd skin me alive."

"That sounds like a you problem." Michael grins.

You and Michael continue your journey down to the Devildom, only this time he's giving you a piggy back ride because you annoyed him until he agreed. Strong hands hold your thighs to keep you from falling, as your arms are wrapped around his neck.

You had been 'calling' people to boop.

"I call Diavolo."

"Deal." Michael nods, trying and failing to twist his head around to face you because you're on his back and he's not an owl. "I don't want to accidentally start another Celestial War by booping the Prince and acting King of the Devildom's nose."

"That's surprisingly a good reason."

"Fuck you mean surprisingly?" Michael scoffs, though there's no real bite to it. "I'm always having good reasons."

"Yeah and I'm the spawn of Satan." You say sarcastically, human world side winning over for a second, until you remember that Satan is in fact a real person and that you are in fact now in the Devildom.

Michael laughs, "You know who Satan's the spawn of? Lucifer."

"Don't let him hear you say that."

"What's he gonna do? Bully me while I'm in a desert? Jokes on him, I hate sand and don't go anywhere near it."

"I don't feel safe anymore, we're gonna get jumped."

Michael laughs.

"I call Levi, I need to return an anime to him anyway." Michael breaks the silence.

"You borrow animes from Levi?"

"Yeah sometimes, me and Saint Peter watch animes at the gates of Heaven when it's a slow day and not a lot of souls are being guided into it."

"Nah imagine dying and waking up in heaven to see the people at the gates watching anime."

Michael sticks out his tongue, though stops when he remembers you're on his back and can't see it.

"I call Barbatos."

Michael sighs in relief, carrying you through the streets of the Devildom. "Thank God, you can have him. Good luck with that."

"Go fuck yourself Michael. I call Thirteen."

Michael gasps excitedly. "Tell her I say hi!"

"Tell her yourself."

Michael huffs. "You're so mean to me MC."

You bite his neck, really embodying your inner feral street cat. He yelps. "Don't try to steal my wife, next time I'll bite your jugular pretty boy."

Michael laughs, "I am quite pretty..." He flips his hair, the intricate golden braids and curls hit you in the face, seeing as you're still on his back. You let out a sound similar to a feral street cat coughing up a hairball, he laughs again. "Also I'm pretty sure Thirteen is a lesbian."

You perk up. "Oh yay! You should be the priest at our wedding Michael. You don't have a choice."

"Fine." The archangel huffs, his plump lips pouty. "But only if Luke's the flower boy."

"I was gonna make him the ring boy giver person." You reply, playing with one of the ornaments braided into Michael's hair.

"Even better!"

Moments of comfortable silence last before you decide to break it because you're evil and have no moral code whatsoever.

"Michael you can have Solomon."

Said Archangel halts. Dropping you off of his back before turning to look at you, now strewn out on the ground. He puts his hand over his brow like a Victorian man who just saw the ankles of his gay lover. (Probably Solomon: You'd decided.)

"No! How couldeth thou?" He sighs dramatically before it just turns exhasperated. "Those rumours just died down...."

You jump up off of the ground, wiping the soil from your clothes, "They have?! Dammit!"

Michael deadpans at you, pulling at a golden coil of hair and letting it be stretched straight before letting go and watching it bounce back up into a curl again. "I hate you."

"That's harsh."

After having separated from Michael, you sneak into your First Man's room. He sits lazily, lounging on his bed and scrolling mindlessly through his DDD. So enraptured he doesn't even notice your presence just yet until you press your finger to his nose.

"Boop!"

"ARGHH-" he screeches, jumping atleast five feet in the air before realising it was you and scoffing. "Oh...It's you...o-of course ye'd wanna boop the Great Mammon's nose! That'll cost ya!" He huffs, trying to avoid the initial embarassment of you seeing him so uncool!

"Boop!" You boop him again, he grins stupidly like an idiot inlove, before snapping out of it and putting his 'too cool for this' persona back on.

"T-that'll cost ye! MC!" He stutters, trying to cover his blush.

"Oh will it now?" You raise a brow before bringing your lips to his nose and pecking it there, pulling away again in less than a second. "Boop."

He pulls you in for a hug before you can pull away completely. You grin, having reduced the Avatar of Greed to a blushy pile of mush in your arms.

Take that Alpha Male podcasters who think women want dominant mean men who suck and hate them. Everyone knows all women want a Mammon.

You and Michael meet back up again. Michael having a scratch on his leg.

"Satan did not like the fact that I booped him at first...until I gave him an emergency kitten that I put in a cage nearby like 5 minutes before." Michael says, noticing that you noticed the scratch. "He almost bit me! He's definitely Lucikin's son!"

You point and laugh at him. He pouts, before interlocking your arms. "Purgatory hall?"

"Purgatory hall." You nod.

Michael knocks on the door. Luke answers it before gasping like a child on christmas. "Michael! Hi!" He hugs the Archangel who laughs and picks him up.

The blond boy notices you at that point, he smiles brightly. "Oh MC! Hi!"

"Hiya Luke!" You smile at him, booping his nose. "Boop!"

"Michael follows suit. "Boop!"

Luke blinks before grumbling. "I'm not a child..." He then turns his head back towards Michael who's still holding him. "Boop!"

Michael laughs. "Do MC now!" With that he quickly moves closer to you, Luke still in his arms, and the young angel boops your nose too. You all grin, laughing. Luke just ecstatic that Michael was able to visit. And he brought you too!

You end up watching a movie together, all three of you. Simeon comes home halfway through it. Having had to visit a publishers. Michael hides behind the door and when Simeon opens it, the dark skinned angel pops out, booping the poor man. "Boop!"

Simeon blinks at him. Michael smirks lightheartedly "Get booped Loserboy."

Simeon smiles, his gaze turning toward you." MC would you lie any help with your Solomon x Michael fanfiction? I heard from Satan that you two were on hiatus."

Michael groans. "Traitors!"

You laugh. "Get fanficked Loserboy."

Michael grins, putting on faux dramatics. "You both suck I'm going back into Luke! At least he's actually cool."

After a lovely movie with Luke, Simeon and Michael, you run away to a cave because why not?

After entering Thirteen's very lovely abode, and avoiding all of the traps laid out for Solomon, you finally catch a glimpse of her vibrant ombre hair.

"Hiya Tee!" You grin, pouncing on her and pulling her into a hug. The reaper, who's clearly batshit insane doesn't even flinch, she just laughs, hugging you back even tighter.

"MC! To what do I owe the pleasure babes?"

You giggle michieviously before bringing your hand up and, "Boop!"

She grins wider, bloodied emerald eyes staring back at you so lovingly, hints of playful devilry in her expression.

"Oh let me try! Boop!" She says before pulling you in for a kiss that makes your knees feel weak.

When you both pull away to catch a breath, you breathe out breathlessly. "That was a super boop....an evil boop even..." You say, face burning red, you know she feels the red hotness of your cheeks.

She just laughs. Tilting her head, some strands of hair falling into her face. "You want another one?"

You've never nodded quicker in your life.

"How in Diavolo's name did you get in here?" Lucifer asks, looking up from the work on his desk. He quickly closes over the confidential files and paperwork, turning his head to Michael once more. Blood red eyes narrowed at their counterpart's.

Michael approaches the Demon at a speed that could rival Mammon's. In an instant he's beside the raven-haired man. "Awww Lucikins don´t worry about it! Boop!"

Lucifer swallows thickly, and flicks his gaze to Michael. Despite having the glare of a thousand suns on him, Michael continues grinning. "Did you...did you just boop my nose?..." The Avatar of Pride asks in a low voice.

"I'm not too sure if I did..." Michael puts his fingers to his chin in mock thought, before grinning, pointer finger in the air. "I'll have to do it again to make sure!" The Archangel exclaims before booping his younger brother on the nose. "Boop!"

Lucifer growls. "Michael-"

"Yes, Lucikins?"

"Michael I am going to kill you."

The elder only laughed, "Awww classic Lucikins! Still in his teenage angst phase!"

"I did not have a teenage angst phase." Lucifer glares, huffing embarassedly, turning away and picking up his quill in an attempt to turn away from this god awful conversation.

Michael gives him a knowing look. "Don't make me pull out the photos."

His head snaps back to his elder brother. "What photos?"

"The photos of you with the wolf cut, the ones with you and the eyeliner, the ones where you're all dressed up in your little emo costumes..." Michael wipes a tear from his eye. "Oh...you were so adorable! Always threatening to murder me...! Glad to see that my wittle baby brother hasn't changed!" The Archangel exclaims, pinching his younger brother's cheeks and making them squish up, Lucifer felt his face flush with embarrassment. Michael laughed, he looked like a chipmunk!

"...'m no' a 'ittle ba'y bro'er! you'r tw' minu'es ol'er than 'ee!" Lucifer tries to shout, but with Michael pushing his cheeks together, it comes out muffled and distorted.

"All I heard is that you said I'm the best big brother in the three realms and you love me very much!"

Lucifer glares at him. A glare that doesn't hold any weight seeing as Michael is still squishing his cheeks together and he still looks like a chipmunk.

With enough squirming and fighting, Lucifer finally manages to get out of his brother's grip, he rubs his cheeks, staring daggers at the angel. "I would never say that. I'm not your baby brother. I'm not Lucikins. You're two minutes older than me yet two centuries more immature." He says venomously.

Too bad Michael's poison proof.

The Archangel laughs, "You're not my baby brother? Huh? Who's bed did you climb in when you were scared of the thunder back in the Celestial Realm?"

Lucifer bristles, swallowing thickly, "That's irrelevant."

"Sureee." Michael grins, though it's softer around the edges, Lucifer feels it too.

Lightning flashes in the Celestial realm. Long before Mammon had even been born. Thunder roars, a small whimper sounds. Lucifer sits in his bed, covers over his head, gripping a pillow tightly. Barely even a cherub, he takes the slight break in the storm to gather the courage to waddle over to his twin's bed.

"Mikey?" Lucifer whispers in the darkness, gripping onto the poles of the bed with his tiny pale hands. "Mikey...you awake?" He says through gapped teeth, a slight lisp in his voice. The gap between his two front teeth would close with time.

The sheets rustle, a young Michael groans, also barely a cherub his voice is as high pitched and childlike as his brother's. "Luci...go to sleep..." The slightly older cherub says, eyes still closed.

"Can't Mikey...'s too loud.." Lucifer whispers, black hair sticking to his forehead in a slight sheen of sweat. As if to prove his point, thunder roars again, lightning flashes. Lucifer whimpers, gripping the pole tighter.

Michael sits up sleepily, short curly hair tied in the tiniest protective braids possible, some small blond coils escaping their confines at the edges of his head. The older cherub wipes a small, chubby hand over his eyes and yawns before opening his duvet up just enough so that Lucifer could climb in.

"Make sure...go to sleep Lucikins..." Michael whispers tiredly, covering his yawning mouth before abandoning his teddy bear and putting his arm around his little brother instead.

Thunder sounds again. Lucifer stiffens and lets out a small sound. "Mikey...'m scared..." He grips onto his twins matching pajamas tightly with his tiny little hands.

Michael grins sleepily, red eyes staring into his twins same coloured ones. "Don't worry Lucikins! 'm always gonna p'tect you! That's wha' big brothers are for!"

The thunder still sounds, Lucifer still stiffens slightly,but surrounded by the warmth and comfort of his twin, he manages to sleep soundly.

After all the madness and badness. (Devil face emoji) You and Michael meet up in a Devildom café.

"That was productive!" The Archangel grins.

"Indeed it was Michael....indeed it was...." You say, a blissed out look on your face.

Michael arches a brow, "Is that one of Thirteen's leather jackets?"

"Maybe..." You say dreamily, playing with the sleeves.

Michael just laughs at you. "Get it, I guess! Anyway wanna watch Gilmore Girls with me? I need to catch up with Raphael...he's a few episodes ahead of me."

"Of course I do."

Michael brings his hands together in an imitation of a fly on a wall doing the hand thing. "Excellent."

.

.

.

"Do you think Luke's going to grow up to open a coffee shop?"

"Nah, he'd open a bakery."

this is utter bullshit and utter dogshit idek

[2018-01-20]

i want a kiss from gojo... so: maybe u could do buying matching plushies with yuuji? or getting matching plushies from a claw machine w megumi?

pairing. megumi fushiguro × gn!reader

content. fluff, read slowly for maximum enjoyment!

megumi fushiguro isn’t commonly considered as someone who is weak, but for you he feels like he is.

“this is so cute!” you gasp, spotting a plushie that is more than three times the size of your head inside a crane machine. it’s a cat stuffed animal in your favorite color, the cuteness of it making you press your hands up against the glass with eyes sparkling in complete awe. megumi can practically hear the gears turning and creaking in your head. “oh my god, should i try to get it?”

“there is no way that that’s possible,” nobara scoffs in disbelief, but you know that she’s only saying that to pull you away before you end up falling too deep and spending all of your money. “you know that this place is notorious for its super weak claws, right?”

“but it’s also popular for its cute prizes, y’know,” you whine in response, tugging on her sleeve to get her to come closer. “look at how cute it is! right, megumi?”

when the both of you turn towards said boy—you with hopeful eyes that reminds megumi of a puppy, and nobara with a demonic glare to get him to stop your nonsense—he freezes, eyes unable to peel away from your bright face. itadori snickers from beside him, already knowing his answer.

and for megumi, there is no other choice but to give in.

“...it is cute,” he mumbles, looking away to avoid nobara’s expression of disbelief.

“see, nobara?” you grin evilly. “do you really have no faith in me? i can easily win against one of these bad guys.”

“you can go right ahead, but we all know you have the worst luck out of all four of us,” nobara sighs out, hiding a smile after that little dig. you play along, letting out a dramatic gasp. “your chances of winning is worse than itadori’s.”

the both of you sputter out an offended, “hey!” you huff, all riled up. but you know that nobara is at least partly right.

“fine,” you eventually hmph at her, and she puts her hands on her hips with a grin. “now i’ll get that plush just to spite you.”

“oh yeah?” she retorts. “with your horrible crane machine skills?”

“nope,” you stick a tongue out at her, and when you sidestep her to reach the boy behind her, megumi feels dread overcome his body. “megumi—”

“that’s cheating!” it’s nobara’s turn to gasp, turning towards you with a distraught face. “you know fushiguro won’t say no to you!”

“gu-umi,” you continue on, ignoring nobara’s accusations in hopes that your begging towards the boy in front of you will get him to say yes to you. (spoiler: it does.) “can you help me get that cat plushie? pleasee?”

you clasp your hands together in a begging motion, unashamed of losing your dignity in order to achieve what you know will earn you victory. you blink repeatedly, staring at megumi through your eyelashes with a pout adorning your lips.

megumi’s adam apple bobs—your attentive gaze makes his mind go blank and his cheeks warm, and while nobara would call your current expression atrocious, he can’t help but think that it’s a bit cute. although megumi fushiguro is no cat lover and would very much prefer the matching dog plushie next to the kitty one that you adore, he takes one more look at your face and sighs.

“...okay.” is all he simply says. but seeing your face light up and smile widen is more than enough for him.

[the-kr8tor]

Go by the Board

Pairing: Pirate! Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 5.7k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader, CW food mentions, TW violence, CW injury, TW blood, TW death, CW needles.

Navigation

Between the Devil and the Sea Masterlist

CHAPTER 4 >>> CHAPTER 5

The bandages around your wrists itch, you try not to scratch the annoying feeling away knowing infection on a ship could be deadly for you. Frozen in a fetal position, your legs tucked under the dust covered blankets, you focus on the locked door, the silver pendant hanging on the doorknob sways as the boat rocks in the wild waves.

You've only slept for a few hours following what you've witnessed, the sailor's screams still echo in your mind, clawing and gnawing at your skull. You try not to think about it, pushing the image of him writhing on the blood soaked floorboards.

Maybe it's better if you don't think about it, ever. Scrubbing it from your mind, you exhale a shaky breath, fingers twitching to scratch that annoying itch.

Why is it so fucking itchy? Your nose itches. Why does everything in this damned room smell old? The small cabin seems to swallow you whole as you lay on the unusually soft mattress. You twist and turn, kicking the blankets away in frustration. Your head pounds from the oncoming headache.

Gritting your teeth, you hear gasps and pained yells from outside. There's something dragging under the sound of curses. You sit up, your eyes feel heavy, it seems like your brain is trying to escape from you. You don't blame it.

You do your best at trying to look normal, well normal for someone who hasn't slept for more than four hours for two days straight. Straightening your back, the noises stop right at your door.

There's shuffling then the clinking of keys, the door bursts open, a man stumbles inside, landing harshly on his face. You recognize the navy lieutenant, his hands and feet bound. His once pristine uniform slashed and dirtied with drying blood. His shiny medals are nowhere to be found.

You lift your feet up on the bed, shielding yourself, wide eyes staring at the captain who looks worse than you. Hobie's still wearing the exact same clothes he wore during the battle, cotton shirt marred by crimson and tattered at the seams, his eyes are bloodshot, the storm still raging inside. There's a large slash by his collar bone that's only been remedied by a hastily put bandage.

Gwen follows right behind him, equally tired and bloodied. Her face is flat, emotion unreadable. She holds a blunderbuss to the captive’s head.

“Now, do you know her?” Hobie speaks up above the silence. Your heart skips a beat after mentioning you. “Don't keep us waiting, George. We haven't got all day.”

The navy man props himself up slowly and painfully, his joints creak, wounds opening. He looks at you through one eye, blood and bruises obscuring his vision.

He inhales scratchily, you suspect his lungs have collapsed. He chuckles and you could only look back towards Gwen who secretly shakes her head at you.

The captive laughs louder and louder, like he's lost his damn mind. “I think I know who this room belonged to, you fuckin’ snake!” he sing songs.

Gwen pushes the barrel closer to his temple, he pauses for a moment before cackling again. Hobie's knuckles tighten but his face remains indecipherable.

“Did you think bringing me here will get me to talk about what happened that day?” He makes it his mission to rile Hobie up, he's given up.

“Or are you showing me her replacement?” His eyes slither over to you, cackling more and more as his eyes roam your body.

“Enough,” Gwen finally speaks, pushing the barrel painfully close to his skin. “He asked you a question”

“You've already gotten what you need from me you fuckin' barbarians!”

Hobie closes the distance, “And we need more from you.” he bends at the waist to forcefully move the man's face towards you. “Do you know her?”

The beaten man smirked evilly, bloodied smile tempting you to hit him. He tilts his head, “Aye,” alarm bells start ringing in your head.

“The captain sent her as a spy, just look at her,” he side eyes Hobie who stares at you with his stormy eyes. “Quite a siren, huh? Were you captivated, eh ‘captain’?”

You could only look at Hobie through tearfilled eyes, pleading silently. You want to live but your mouth has clamped shut, your entire body is frozen, preventing you from laying your case.

After a minute of listening to the man praise you for your supposed work, Hobie yanks him away when George gets too close to you.

“Good on you for confirming our suspicions.” Your heart drops to your stomach. “But the details you've given us don't quite match up with what she's told us.” Hobie clicks his tongue, “I think you need to sing more for us, Georgie.”

The man's smile drops, he swallows thickly.

“Take him below.” The captain says as he reels in his anger.

Finn appears from the doorway, immediately taking the prisoner by the collar, dragging him further down the hallway, while he kicks and squirms to no avail. Gwen follows, sparing you a quick nod. She shuts the door behind her, the clicking sounds like a death knell specifically for you.

The soft lapping of the waves doesn't ease your nerves, it acts as a countdown with every hit to the side of the ship. The seagulls squawk loudly just outside your window, they're annoying but at least they're free.

After a minute of quiet and Hobie's eyes roaming around the small cabin, you hear him thud against the door. This is it, you think, picturing him taking out his cutlass to sever your head from your shoulders. Or maybe he's a gentleman, preferring to off you quick and painless with his blunderbuss.

Instead of the loud booming sound of a gun going off, you hear his voice. “What happened to your fire?”

“I'm too tired to keep it lit.” you bravely look up, he leans on the door, his shoulders and face relaxed, back slouched, knuckles bloody and broken. “Are you going to bring me below too or are you gonna end me right here?”

He frowns, “Why would I do that?”

“Because he just told you—”

Hobie sighs, you fall silent. The lines of his face are prominent as the sun rises once again. The light from the window hits him just right, bathing him in soft yellow. He closes his eyes like he's savouring the warmth.

“Men like him will do anything to bring someone else down with him.” He opens his grey eyes, the storm has calmed down behind it. “He knows he's lost.”

“You tied me up. Locked me up.”

“I know, it was for the better until I truly know you're not one of them. You're alive aren't you? Do you want me to apologize?”

“No, fuck you. I want you to thank me for saving your first mate.”

He chuckles lowly, “There it is, keep that fire yeah?”

You scoff, shaking your head.

“Sleep, you can have this cabin in the meantime.”

You glare at him, not trusting his own words.

“Here,” Hobie tosses a key at you. “my olive branch. Rest, trust me once everyone wakes from their poppy filled haze you're gonna wish you've slept.”

You hold the key in between your fingers, familiarizing yourself with the indents. “What?”

“Mend their wounds, doc. Prove your worth.” He turns to leave. “Do keep the place clean, yeah?”

You shakily stand up, locking the door behind him. Barely making it back to bed, you collapse, sleep taking you in its embrace.

—

You wake up to loud frantic knocking on your door. With a groan and sleep laden eyes, you reluctantly open the door.

Miles greets you, his smile not reaching fully to his tired eyes. “Finally! You sleep like the dead you know?”

“What's happening? Are we getting attacked again?” Your eyes roam across the cramped hallway.

“I hope not, they need you at the infirmary.”

“The ship has an infirmary?”

Following Miles through the halls and numerous stairs, you make unusual small talk.

“So…did Hobie tell you that I'm not a traitor?”

Miles stops in front of you, eyes narrowed. “Don't say the ‘T word’ around here or” he steps closer to whisper. You listen with trepidation. “or saving Gwen won't be enough for you to stay.” he looks around for a sign that someone else is listening.

“Why can't I say the ‘T word’? Did something happen back then?”

“Can you not?” He grimaces. “You can literally ask me anything else other than that.”

“Right, sorry.” You two continue to walk. “Who's MJ?”

Miles groans in annoyance. “Seriously?”

“What?! You said anything but that.”

“Alright, smart ass, anything but those two. Learn to read the room, jeez!” he shakes his head.

“Fine! How'd a kid like you end up here then? Am I allowed to ask that? Hmm?” you rile him up. This is the most fun you've had in days, anything to get rid of the thoughts swimming in your mind.

“Don’t call me kid, landlubber. If you hadn't saved Gwen back then I would throw you overboard so fast right now” Miles stomps further away from you while you chuckle.

“Yeah? And what's Gwen to you then? I see how you look at her.”

He stops with his hands on his hips, head falling in exasperation, he's too quiet.

“Miles?” oh shit. You might've gotten too far with your teasing. You weren't even sure what you said was true, it was just a wild guess.

“Is it that obvious?!” He suddenly yells, turning to look at you with his hands over his head like he's in physical pain. “You've been here for less than three days and you've noticed!”

“Please calm down.” You laugh nervously, the last thing you need right now is making Hobie's navigator cry. “I was teasing you is all.” You have no idea how to comfort the poor guy. “I won't tell anyone I promise!”

“Especially Gwen,” he points at you.

“I won't tell anyone.” you cross over your heart. “If you answer my questions” smiling mischievously, you can see Miles already regretting his choices.

“Blackmail? Really?” He huffs.

“Please it's the least you can do for me after saving the love of your life. Also blackmail is probably the lowest crime the bloodsail pirates have committed.”

Something passes by his eyes, a memory perhaps? You have no idea what it was but his eyes glissen over. He composes himself in a second, clearing his throat.

“Correction, you're not a bloodsail pirate.”

“I am for two weeks at least” you shrug.

“Finn is right, you are annoyingly talkative.”

“Hey! Talkative for his standards maybe. You try getting stuck in a small room with a silent giant and you will truly know how bored you can be.”

Miles nods, smirking like he knows something you don't. “You talk a lot to hide the fear inside you.”

Did he just psychoanalyze you?

“This crew will be the death of me, move, people are probably dying while we're talking” you walk past a grinning Miles.

Walking past a few more rooms, you spot an open door to your right. The dimly lit room catches your attention with its bookshelves full of gorgeously bound books.

“A library? You have a library here?!” You excitedly walk over to the doorframe, eyes quickly scanning the titles on the shelves. “I haven't seen a huge collection like this in my entire life.”

Miles steps over to the side, promptly shutting the door. “After you take care of my family then we can talk about library privileges.” He gives you a look that has you rolling your eyes.

“Fine, dork” you whisper the last word.

“What was that?” He clearly heard you.

“Nothing! Let's go and save some people.”

Turning the corner, leaning on the walls, there lies a line of disgruntled pirates. They hold on to their various injuries, groaning in pain. They cheer once they see you but they quickly shut up after their pain flares up from the cheering.

Walking towards the open double doors of the infirmary, they look at you with their unreadable faces. The common theme though is the ache in their bones and the blood coated shirts.

You assess each of their injuries, some are minor, only having gashes on their arms and legs. A few are bleeding through their bandages, head wrapped hastily in bandages that clearly needs to be changed immediately.

Trying to remember what she taught you, you sigh, hands clammy. You haven't handled this many people, only used to treating a couple of people at a time in your small village with her. Times like this, you can't help but miss her. Shaking your head, you can't let your mind wander again, right when the people who are helping you stay literally afloat need you.

But you can't handle this many people alone.

“Uh…who’s more injured?” you ask.

They all raise their injured hands.

“Okay, who's still bleeding?”

Half of them raise their hands.

As if sensing your panic, Pavitr comes up behind you, tapping you on the shoulder.

“Need my help? I'm not that good with blood but I'm sure I can help. and Miles can help too, right, bud?” Pav catches Miles who's sneaking away to leave. “Where are you going?”

“Uh… to look for Ned, yeah! He can help too.”

Ned yells from inside the infirmary, “I'm already in here! I was the one who told you to fetch Y/N, remember?”

You and Pavitr share a look.

“Yep yep! I'm coming to help, see?” He stops when he's inside the small clinic. “Oh man, that's a huge needle you have there Ned”

You clasp Miles on his trembling shoulder, “Don't worry I'll keep it away from you. For a price of course.”

Miles huffs, gritting his teeth. “You get three questions.”

“Good–”

“After you're done here”

“Fine.” you enter the room with a roll of your eyes. The smell of poppy, ointment and iron fills your senses. Suddenly you're back at home, the roaring fire from the stone fireplace warms you as the huge book in your lap has you enthralled by the illustration of human anatomy.

Groaning brings you back to the present. The first thing you see is Ned tending to ugly mug, his back exposed. Ned’s huge needle is sewing up a deep cut just below the man's shoulder.

“Give it to me straight, mate, I'm gonna look even uglier now aren't I?” He asks Ned.

You scrunch up your nose after seeing his face still good looking and injury free.

Turning around to face Pav and Miles, you try to remember her teachings, you can still feel her hands guiding your own as she rambles on how you should always wash your hands before treating someone. It's been years since then, her voice is nothing but a memory, slowly fading away as you grow older.

You haven't been practicing much, but you kept up with your knowledge by reading pamphlets as much as you can. It's a useful skill afterall, especially when you travel. With an exhale, you start instructing the two.

“Pav,” he straightens up. “get me some hot water from the galley and the purest alcohol Finn has.”

“Got it, I have to fight Finn though” he runs off with determination in his eyes.

“Miles, I need you to triage” you continue as you head off to the basin to clean in between your nails. The dried blood from your fingernails turns the water murky and brown.

“Put the people in front of the line who need to get treated first and with the most severe injuries while the people with the least severe injury to the back of the line.” You look over your shoulder. “Understood?”

“I'm doing it but not because you told me to.” he goes out of the room, already yelling at his impatient crew mates. You hear someone saying ‘what the fuck is a triage? use english!’

You look at Ned. “Please tell me you washed your hands.”

—

You're incredibly hungry, again. Your fingers ache from all the sewing and patching you've done. Your hands smell like herbs and ointments. The muscles in your hands still shake from all the bullets you had to carefully take out. But everyone seems to be stable now, thanks to you.

Washing your hands in the newly replenished basin, you hear footfalls against wood from above. For a second your mind flings back to the fight, you pinch your pinky to distract yourself from the image.

A plate clangs behind you. Looking over your shoulder, Miles is once again trying to sneak away.

“Thanks, Miles” You genuinely smile at him, just looking at the hot plate of mashed potatoes and beans has your stomach grumbling.

“Fine, ask away” he sits across from you, arms crossed on his chest.

“I actually forgot about that, thank you for mentioning it.” You smile mockingly, taking the plate to finally eat.

“What? Oh come on, man” he points suspiciously at you. “Why are you so curious?”

“Because human beings are naturally curious.” Miles makes a face. “Fine, I want to know the backstory of the legendary bloodsail pirates. I mean can you blame me? I have to live with the crew for two weeks.”

He sighs, convinced. “As long as the answers to your questions are already known by the navy,” you nod, “ask away.”

You chuckle. “First question, Where did Hobie get this huge ship?”

“Stole it, next question”

“Really? you're not gonna elaborate on that? I got the needles far away from you the entire time.”

He clicks his tongue. “Stole it from a rich merchant ship years ago with just his wits and a blunderbuss. He's been upgrading it since then, you can barely see the original facade.”

“I gotta admit it to him, that sounds like a good story to tell.”

“Maybe if you play nice he can tell it to you someday.”

You sigh, “Some mysteries just have to stay a mystery.”

He chuckles softly, a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Second question,” you take another spoonful of beans, chewing while talking. “Where did he get his crew?”

Miles looks at you with disgust. “Swallow first, Christ. Some joined later on, some like Gwen, Pav, Finn and I have been with him from the start.”

“Elaborate? Or I'll chew with my mouth open”

“What is wrong with you? I'm not done yet, jeez.” He looks like he's about to jump away from you. “A few of us were running from getting drafted during the war, only having us as their only option or go to jail.” You listen intently.

“But most of us joined after hearing about us, wanting to be pirates but they want to give back to the people instead of just taking and plundering for gold.” he scratches the back of his neck. “I guess some of us are more into it rather than just pure survival.”

“Wait, you do that? Like some sort of pirate Robin Hood?”

Miles looks at you surprised. “Of course we do, I'm guessing that doesn't make it to the sunday news huh?” he sighs. “Well that's what we do, we only take from the rich and give it back to the people who need it most. Most of the time the nobles and merchants don't suffer much loss from it.”

“Well until I see it for myself I'll think otherwise. Next question—”

“Nope, you've already asked your three questions!” He cackles.

“Wait, the last one doesn't count! Come on, one last very important one that if I don't get the answer to, I will combust.”

Miles pouts his lips, thinking like it's the most difficult thing ever. “Hmmm, you blowing up into tiny pieces sounds great actually.”

“I won't tell Gwen you're utterly in love with her. Just one last thing.”

“You won't tell anyone”

“I promise! And when I promise I intend to keep it.”

He exhales the most tired exhale ever. “Ask”

You smile. “Why follow Hobie?”

Miles stares at you directly, none of the annoyed look he's given, no boyish charm you've seen the entire day you've spent with him and the crew. He looks like a proper pirate with his back straight and loyalty emanating just from his tone.

“Because it's Hobie,” he says, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. “You have no idea the things he's sacrificed for us. Before we were a crew he— I owe him my life. And it's not blind loyalty, we're all free to leave if we don't want to follow him to the end. Some have already left.” He says the last part forlornly. “I guess I follow him because he's family, not just my captain.”

You look at your half eaten meal, family, you haven't heard that in ages. You have family somewhere, you're sure of it. In your journeys you've had people, friends, but not enough to be called your family; they haven't come close to what you had with her in that little cabin of yours in the middle of nowhere.

If only greed wasn't a thing, you'd still be with her.

You feel a ghost of your necklace graze your chest, instinctively holding on to it for comfort, disappointing yourself when you can't grasp it.

“Y/N?”

You clear your throat, fighting the tears from flowing. “So if he's your family and the crew is also your family, does that mean you're in love with Gwen who's supposedly your family? Hmmm?”

“You know what I meant! What is truly wrong with you?!”

“What? I'm just asking!”

“Oh really? Well you use humour as a crutch!”

You gasp, “Rude!”

“Yep that's you! Miss ‘I make jokes during serious conversations’”

“Understood, now where did I put that needle?” you act like you're trying to find it, patting your pockets.

“Nope, I'm already gone!” He's sprinting away from you. “You're needed in the galley by the way!” His muffled yell makes you laugh.

Another day, another quiet day in the galley for you.

—

During dinner, you've noticed the empty chairs, the sound of the waves crashing and utensils scraping still echoing in your ears as you watch them bring out their dead from below.

The full moon witnesses the crew put their dead on the now pillaged navy ship. The bodies wrapped carefully in white sheets. There's no breeze blowing or waves lapping at the sides of the ship. Everything's at a standstill.

The eerie silence has you standing by the edge of the crowd. Not a part of it but not truly alone.

The gas lamps illuminate the crew's expressions. You're not used to seeing their faces look so devastated, especially after all the laughs you've shared with them while mending their wounds mere hours ago.

You know it's not your place to be here or to even stand with them while they're mourning their friends. But you stay because if it's the other way around you'd want the only outsider to mourn with you, to stand in solidarity with you even if she doesn't know how the people you're laying down on the cold wood used to comfort you through the storm and how they used to hate the summer heat.

You'd want the outsider to know that they once lived.

The floorboards creak as Hobie lays the last body on the navy boat's deck, kneeling by the side to say his final farewell. After a moment, he stands up, knuckles so tightly closed that you can see his hands shake from where you're standing.

He cuts the rope tied to the mast, the sails unfurl, the slight breeze making it move slowly. Hobie jumps back to the revenge before the navy ship sails too far.

With his crew right behind him, you all watch as the ship sails for the final time. Hobie takes a musket from Gwen, they share a comforting look briefly before he takes aim at the ship. The shot echoes out, hitting the barrel full of gunpowder directly. Fire immediately bellows, engulfing the wooden ship.

The fire cackles further away but it still warms your cheeks. Orange and yellow dancing on the water as the mast burns and falls into the depths with a splash.

A soft voice sings a mellow tune, the lyrics full of sorrow and longing for what they've lost.

You look over to the source of the song, Yuri has her eyes glued to the flaming ship, her cadence echoes out to the open sea, the rest join in, goosebumps flare up on your arms. They sing about how the sea has claimed them but they aren't truly lost for they still sail the endless depths with the stars as their guide.

The singing ends and as everyone goes their separate ways, Hobie stays behind, watching as the fire devours the ship. With one last look, you head to your cabin, head full of thoughts that you'd rather not let it fester or it might consume you like the fire outside razing the once mighty ship.

The tune still stays with you until your head hits the soft pillow, you wonder how many times they've sung it together.

That night you wake up to someone screaming from above, cursing Hobie's name. Frantic footsteps dance above, you can hear a gun clicking. Recognizing the former lieutenant's voice, you fall back under the covers, jumping in place as you hear the gun go off followed by a splash and then a sudden silence.

For the next two days, you get acclimated to your life on the people's revenge. Having some sort of routine. In the morning you go to the infirmary to help clean their wounds and change their bandages, single handedly stopping infection. The survival rate of the injured has increased tenfold with your help. They greet you with a smile every morning, sometimes calling you ‘doc’ and you correct them everytime.

You haven't seen Hobie the past two days, always getting glimpses of him in the halls as he turns a corner. None of the crew have seen him out either. You wonder if he's had anything to eat in the past few days.

You've encountered how grief could consume someone, you hope you don't witness it again.

At lunch, you cook with Finn in the galley, making conversation, telling him stories you've heard during your journeys as he grunts and huffs in reply. You've gotten used to the quiet in the kitchen with only the waves outside and the bubbling pot filling your ears.

The crew have gotten better after the loss, they've started laughing again, making jokes and even including you to the conversation. You keep finding yourself chuckling among them during dinner.

After the day ends, you bring Pavitr his tea as he gets ready for another long night shift of sailing. As you head down to the library, you check in on Miles as he toils on a map, studying every detail, making sure the ship's on track. You bring him his cup, he's stopped looking at the tea suspiciously after the third time you've given him one.

You hear arguing in Hobie's cabin again, the voices are different each time you pass through but you don't dare eavesdrop, you swear that man has eyes everywhere.

The library has become your sanctuary, not the cabin you're temporarily placed in. You get a weird feeling everytime you enter the small room, like you don't quite belong in the obviously lived in space. There's tiny trinkets hidden on shelves, some are quite peculiar, unlike anything you've ever seen. You keep finding drawings and journal pages tucked in the corners and the bed frame, the ink already too faded to read or to even make out the art. You surmise the old resident of the cabin pushed the papers in there to stop the draft.

As you sit down on the lumpy green armchair of the library, the oil lamp illuminating the pages with only the moon as your companion; you get sucked into the yellowed pages, burrowing into every word printed, making a home for yourself in between the letters written by authors you'll never meet in your lifetime.

A soft knock brings your soul back to the old library, your eyes adjust in the darkness, his silhouette leaning casually on the doorway.

“So this is where you vanish off to every night” you can barely make out his face but you know he's smirking by the way his lip piercing glints in the lamp.

“Am I not allowed, Captain?” he chuckles. The sound reverberated around the room. A ghost of a smile passes by your lips.

“Keep callin' me like that and you might find yourself having special treatment.”

“And what exactly is the special treatment?”

Hobie shrugs, raising a finger up as he lists them down. “Havin' your own cabin, getting fed twice in a day, access to the ship's library, did I mention staying dry and alive?”

“You've mentioned it once or twice.” You sigh, gathering courage for what you're about to ask. “I've got a question, Cap.”

Hobie scoffs, “Heard you've been asking those a lot. One of these days your curious arse will get you killed.” You shrug, ignoring his comment. “You know I'd hunt you down if any of this information gets to the navy right?”

“I know, and I'm not a fucking snitch especially after you've kept your word of letting me stay even though you did use me as bait when you were interrogating the navy man.”

“Come off it,” he clicks his tongue. “I did not use you as bait.”

“Sure, and you don't have trust issues, Hobie Brown”

“Likewise, Y/N asshole.” he enters the room and into the light. You don't miss his snarky nickname for you. “Can a person with trust issues do this?” Hobie tosses a bag right on your lap.

You recognize the satchel, blinking in surprise “My bag!” You scan the contents down to the small bag of coins finding everything is still in its place. “Did you happen to see a necklace? It has a circular pendant with a bird engraved on it.”

“No, it doesn't ring a bell. Trust me somethin’ like that would've left a mark.”

You frown, hope diminished. Hobie gestures towards the seat in front of you, asking permission. You nod, letting him in your personal bubble.

“What are you reading?” He sits across from you on the rickety rocking chair, groaning, knees cracking.

“Just a story about some Greek hero that my m– I used to read back then.”

He nods, not mentioning the blunder. “I don't think Theseus is just some bloke.” You chuckle softly. “Y’know there's a much better read than that over…” he twists around, taking a book right behind him. “Here” he hands it off to you, calloused fingers grazing yours.

Turning the small book around, you shake your head with a subtle smile. “‘How to conquer your fears volume five: Learn how to swim by Sir Riordan of Canterbury’ Very funny”

Hobie stifles a laugh, a genuine smile across his face. “Thought it was appropriate.” he crosses a leg over the other, shoulders relaxed.

“What was your question, scuttlebutt? Ask me before I change my mind, ‘m feeling generous today.”

Your hands play with the spine of the old book. “Why haven't you killed me yet? After what George said, why didn't you believe him that I'm a traitor?”

He visibly stiffened, “You can't be called a traitor if you were never part of the crew, eh?” your heart thumps louder as he observes your every move.

“Also that's two questions,” the moonlight hits his fatigued face, you stare into those eyes that threaten to bring you under, but you swim out just in time before it drags you down. “good thing they have the same answers.”

You blink slowly, fingers nervously pick at the dry skin on your thumb.

“Your rucksack,” he points with chin. “I didn't pay enough attention to it when you first arrived but when I had my suspicions I had to check. First the coins or the lack thereof. If you were a navy spy they'd give you enough to use it as a bargaining tool.”

“You calling me poor?”

“Yes” he doesn't miss a beat. “Second your shoes, the bloody thing is thinner than Finn's flat bread.” you suck in your teeth in annoyance. “And that–” he leans closer, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Your fuckin' attitude, you didn't even try to play nice. You just did what you were told so you could survive. The only time you're actually nice is when nobody else is lookin'” you scoff while he continues on.

“Don't think I didn't notice you during the funeral or whenever you give Pav and Miles their tea. You stay along the edges of the crew, lingering, not really looking for any approval. But you're there, acting like you don't care but based on the careful stitches and gentle hands, you care, a lot.”

You grit your teeth, letting him read you like an open book that you've kept hidden behind the shelves, under all the more interesting books.

“Spies ease their way into the crew with effort, you did it unintentionally. You didn't hesitate saving Gwen, you could've done anything else in an attempt to escape but you helped and you stayed. You're not a spy, I think you just want to belong somewhere—”

You cut him off, “What makes you think I want to join your rag tag group?”

Hobie looks like he's about to swallow you whole, ignoring your last snarky comment, he continues his rant. “You want to belong even if it’s on a damn pirate ship. You're a genuine stowaway.”

“Alright, you're quite perceptive then, but that doesn't answer my question on why you haven't killed me yet.” you bravely face him. “You said it yourself, you would kill me if any information about you and the crew comes out from me. And you told me I needed the coin so what's stopping me from going to the nearby governor and selling off the information the moment we land?”

“Because you're running too,” his eyes shine in the low light, looking at you mischievously. “I don't know from whom or if you're wanted like us but I do know you're not gonna risk your freedom for a few coins.”

Hobie beams at you, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “And lastly, I'm gonna need you before I let you go.”

[appleblueberry-pie]

OOOHHHH, OKAY HERE MY REQUEST FOR YANDERE MILE MORALES SCENARIO! I imagine him being the type of guy to break into the reader's locker and leave a CD(the song is probably cheesy like Radiohead-creep) while leaving a sticky note like “I really, really, like you. And I wanna get to know you more, can you meet at [insert abandoned building here] ❣️”~secret admirer (*cough* it's Miles *cough*) This freaks the reader out, cuz they've been dealing with this bs for 3 months and the authorities can't do shit, can I request the reader confronting their “secret admirer”? 🥺

N/A: I hope you heard me evilly laugh when I first read this. Boutta spill all of my delusions on this. Also i've never written worse luck than the reader had in this one.

Be Mine? Yes or No.

It's about ten minutes before first period begins and you've already spent five of them rereading the 20th love letter you've received over the course of a few months. You felt the hairs on the back of your neck rise as you continue to find more and more things to worry about in this letter. You'd think that this person would stop pestering you, but they really weren't. At all whatsoever. The same little sweet names they'd compliment you with. The same main idea they had in the previous note continuing into the next one. This has been happening over and over.

And it was so, so sweet when this fiasco first started. When you first opened your locker and it was placed so nicely in the center as if someone carefully placed it there. It was definitely spritzed with some kind of cologne, because no scent from someone just rubs off onto a letter like that. The beautiful envelope it was put in, the paper on the inside. The neat handwriting that was clearly practiced just to put some love onto the paper for you to hopefully absorb. And it worked the first three times, but it just kept getting weirder from there.

The way they wrote to you was extremely genuine, something that was hard to find in relationships nowadays. It really made you want to meet this person. They mixed in casual sweet names in Spanish into the writing in a way that wasn't hard for you to understand at all. They definitely had a crush on you. But then they began mentioning you in ways that seemed to make you borderline uncomfortable. Mentioning your beautiful hair, your eyes, your lips, the way you spoke, how you smelled. How they'd watch you and your friends in the park. Slipping in a few mentions of you walking to and from a corner store nobody in your school but you knew about.

They would write about how they could help you with specific classes that they knew you were struggling with. What foods they theorized you don't like(they were right), your type of man and how they fit that exact description, if not, more. How he knows he's the one you'd want and need. How the two of you are meant to be, he'd love you the way you need to be loved and he cant wait to actually meet you. How he'd bring you to the address of your favorite breakfast spot that no one should know about and he'd buy you that plate you always wanted to get that you couldn't afford. How he'd spoil you and-

All of this tension he built up on his own, which was all fueled by his own delusions, drew you to the conclusion that this nigga needed to be put in his place. You wanted a boyfriend. Not a fucking perverted stalker. Whoever this was, he was taking it too far, and was ultimately scaring you. It took you fifteen of these letters for you to realize that he wasn't actually slipping the letter into the locker between the cracks, but he was putting in the real code of your lock to properly unlock it. How he found it out, you have no idea. You didn't know what this guy was capable of and didn't know if he'd hurt you if you said no. But it had to be done somehow or he'd take shit too far and kidnap you or some crazy shit like that.

None of the school officials would help you because they're pieces of shit. Your friends tell you to bag him like dumbasses, and what the fuck are your parents gonna do? Yell at the dean and stand by your locker all day to wait for the guy?? You were all alone in this. So the most reasonable thing you came up with is to bluntly write to him to meet you after school at the park you and your friends go to often since he knows the spot already.

And quite literally the day after, you sat at the bench at the park after school, and he showed up.

You remember being so damn scared. What if he was big and burly and angry? What if he was one of the popular boys and would record the entire interaction? What if he follows you back home? What does he plan to do once you try to tell him off? You shouldn't have done this. The setting sun wasn't comforting you. The abandoned playground that usually was bustling with squealing kids was just making you more nervous. It was silent and cold today, but your mind just wouldn't shut up. Suddenly, the school uniform you wore wasn't as comfortable and you clutched your backpack closer to your body.

The wind blew gently on your bare knees and you heard someone call out your name. You flinched and felt your heart drop and turned to see the source of the voice, hoping for the worst. There was a boy sitting on a bench right next to yours. He was staring at you. It made you feel....unsettled and something else you couldn't put your finger on. To calm yourself, you listed his characteristics in his head. He was....reasonably attractive. Light brown eyes. Sculpted face. A light Spanish accent to his voice exactly how you'd imagine. Neat braids on his head. But something about his aura messed with you. He wasn't as good as he portrayed himself to be. You didn't want to speak and watched him stand from his spot to sit next to you on your bench. You clutched your bag to your chest as you watched him try to calmly approach you without making you too nervous.

With nervous eyes on him, he sits down next to you, letting a small smile grace his lips. "Hey, ma...how you doin'?" He sounded like he was trying to lure a scared dog into his arms. But it was awkward because he was trying to act normal with his dream girl and it was an actual human being and not a dog. "....fine." You respond. He scratches his nape and averted his eyes for a quick second. He really wanted to know why you wanted to talk to him. You gave no context within your letter, and it was a blessing, nonetheless. You actually responded to him. He predicted that he wouldn't get one for another good three weeks to two months almost. But this must be serious. He prepared himself for all possible scenarios that this could end up being.

"So....why'd you want to meet all of a sudden? It's getting late and I don't want you going home in the dark, you know?" You nod and take a deep breath, scared as fuck for how this could end. "Yeah.....so....I just wanted to tell you that I just- I don't want to be with you." It felt like you had to pull the words out of your throat for him to hear. You saw his face drop and decided to explain before he did anything else. "Like....I don't know you. I just realized that. You know so much about me and about my friends and the places I go to. I don't know a damn thing- Are you stalking me??" You turn to face him and stare into his wide eyes. He almost seemed as if he was caught doing some weird shit. And it was weird.

The silence started to make you angry when you realized he probably has been following you all this time. He shakes his head and sits up. "No...no, I haven't been stalking you at all, ma, I promise. I never want to make you uncomfortable, ever. Where are you getting that?" Oh, so now he's gaslighting you. If you brought all of his envelopes to this meeting, you would've dumped all of the evidence on his lap. You roll your eyes, grab your bag, and stand to leave. He stands at the same time as you when he sees you're trying to leave and stands in your way. "Wait, wait, wait, that's it? You not gon' give me a chance?" "A chance? Nigga, you lost your chance when you started being weird and fucking acting like you wasn't being weird this entire time!"

It was hard to get mad at you or reason with you. You were too pretty to get mad at even when you were nearly yelling in his face. And he had no logical reason to behave the way he was behaving, either. So, he might lose you unless he does something risky. And to risk your trust and love is something he doesn't want on the line.

You watch him watch you leave and he picks up his bag as well. The street lights turn on once it gets dark enough and Miles interrupts you walking away. "I'm not letting you walk home in the dark, Y/n." You flinch at his voice and growl a groan in fuming anger. An older lady passes the both of you and praises the mystery boy for being such a good gentleman and how 'there needs to be more of you out on these streets'. You almost slapped the fuck out of her for even hyping him up. He gives her a beautiful smile and tells her to get home safe, while walking you in the direction of your home.

He turns back to you and almost laughs at the face you're making. "I wonder how your mom would feel about you going home in the dark." "Mind yo fucking business." He happily leaves it there, continuing to walk with you down the street. Maybe this way, he can have more than one excuse to continue walking you home from now on. "Ion even know yo name." You mutter under your breath and Miles smiles at you. "My name is Miles. Great to finally meet you in person, Mami." You scoff and gladly let him scroll on his phone. You tried to speed ahead of him in hopes he'd stay at his slower pace, but he always caught up to you. You inwardly groan, knowing he'd probably make it to your door before you get rid of him.

"Glad to know the name of the person who's been stalking me. Now I can report you officially." You smirk at him and he gives one right back. "Just a name won't cut it, ma." "I got photos." "Where?" He hands you your phone back and you snatch it, realizing he was scrolling on your phone the whole time AND deleted your photo evidence. Before you can shove him into the street for a car to run him over, your mom bursts the door open and eyes the boy next to you. "Girl, you finally brought someone home with you." You didn't even realize you were on your street, better yet, your house. And your mom liked him already??

Your face dropped as you approached the front door. "No, no, no, it's not like that-" "What's your name, sweetie?" Miles steps up to the door and holds out his hand for her to shake, a beaming smile on his face. "My name is Miles Morales, ma'am." She shakes his hand before scrunching her eyebrows. " 'Morales'? You know Rio??" "That's my mamá, right there." Horrifying, how quickly a new relationship between the two bloomed right before your eyes as they continued to converse.

How are you going to get out of this? Your stalker is making great friends with your mom, no one can help because he deleted the evidence, and you would soon find out the next morning at school that your locker was clean of envelopes as well. Nothing was working in your favor and you realized that there was no way to escape. He included himself into your life so easily, when you wanted him out, out, out. You hated this shit, but he seemed to love it, sending you a look of appreciation as you both stepped into your abode.

Miles was so grateful for having you as a part of his life. The stars aligned and allowed you both a chance at beauty and growth. He wouldn't let this opportunity waste away like he had done many times in the past. You were his chance at redemption for all of the things he had done and the things that he planned to do later on. You were finally his.