#I ALREADY HAVE A FUCKING SCAR SO BIG U CAN FEEL WHERE IT GETS DEEP
Text
tw stupid vent in tags
#tw self harm#tw vent#“being a teenager is the best!” I CUT MYSELF ALMST EVERYDAY.#IVE SCARRED MYSELF SO BAD ILL NEVER EVER BE ABLE TO WEAR SHORT SLEEVES NO MTTER HOW LONG IT SBENE SINCE IT HAPPENED#I ONYL SPEAK TO LIKE ONE OR TWO PEOPLE IRL I AM DETERIORATING#I ALREADY HAVE A FUCKING SCAR SO BIG U CAN FEEL WHERE IT GETS DEEP#HOW .#HOW IS THIS GOOD#HOW DO I HAVE HTE BEST LIFE HOW R PEOPLE JEALOUS#WHENEVER I GET MISGENDERED I CANT HELP BUT BITE MYSELF UNTIL I BLEED which is really hard to do...#IM SO SIKKC OF IT#IM SO TIREDD.#im going insane again arent i#THERES NOT BEEN A WEEK WITHOUT SELF HARM SINCE GOD KNOWS WHEN#EVERY LIMB HURTS except my right leg specifically i saved that one for spare parts#oh and my goddamn mother only cares about how ill look because of the scars and not that im FUCKING BLEEDING OUT BCUZ OF HER NO LESS#DOES IT GET BETTER. DO I STOP CUTTING MYSELF??#everytime i see a little too much blood it reminds me of when i did it and i feel sick to my stomach
2 notes
·
View notes
Note
hii can u please write a matt fic where reader is a singer(shes his gf already) and she had a show one day so when she performed he was there and like the choreography for one of the dances was very slutty(kinda like vigilante shit live performance by taylor swift)and then the night they are at home and they’re in bed matts like “u looked so fucking hot today doing that dance” and one thing leads to another and smutty smut smut happens totally fine if u dont like this idea love u💕
Remedy
Pairing: Matt Sturniolo X Female Reader
Synopsis: Y/N is a singer and after a seductive performance Matt is left feeling some type of way. Will he act on these urges??🌑
Warnings⚠️: SMUTTTTT. Mirror sex, slight choking, matt being a little slutttt, and that’s about all. Enjoyyyy teehee🤭
Song for the imagine: Novacane- Frank Ocean
⚠️This is an 18+ imagine, so minors do not interact, or do??⚠️
But there's no drug around
Quite like what I found in you, you
I loved singing and I was so fortunate enough to be Matt’s girlfriend because he knew people and was able to get me gigs. I was so fucking thankful for him because without him I would still be singing in my room and posting it to YouTube.
Tonight I actually had a show for this talent show type of thing in town. It was a pretty big event, but also a talent show designed by people who are looking to scout out the next Ariana Grande. I was super grateful that Matt was able to pull some strings and get me in. I wasn’t sure that I wanted to be this huge famous singer, but to catch the eyes of people who could make me famous, and just get my name out there a little more did sound appealing.
I was super excited to perform this set because I was able to get a few backup dancers and come up with a seductive and powerful dance. I actually was so excited to step outside of my comfort zone and perform something totally different.
Currently I was getting ready with my backup dancers waiting to be called next, and I was so fucking nervous I mean I never did anything like this, and to have Matt, Chris and Nick all watching formed a pit in my stomach.
Not to mention this was my first time dancing on stage in front of a bunch of people in heels….. I was so fucking scared. We wore black blazers with black lingerie under, fishnet stockings and red heels. This was all so new to me I felt like throwing up. I’ve never worn anything like this publically. But I decided to shake it off, and get ready.
My group and I were the last ones on stage, and we decided they would walk out first, and then me. I looked onto the stage and saw the props being set up, black chairs where we would basically be doing lap dances on. God why did I want to throw up so much? I think it was the fact that Matt and his brothers were front row…
They called out my name, and my girls walked out first sitting the chairs with their legs crossed. I took one last deep breath before walking out and standing sitting in my chair. Suddenly the lights when up on us, and the song started playing
“I bust the windows out your car, and no it didn’t mend my broken heart” I sang out looking up
“I’ll probably always have these ugly scars, but right now. i don’t care about that part” I sang slowly getting up from my chair
I kept singing as I slowly unbuttoned my blazer. Earning cheers from the crowd
I slowly walked to my chair standing behind it “You see you can’t just play with peoples feelings” I sang as I seductively ran my hand down the front of the chair
“Tell them you love them, and don’t mean it” I sang walking to the front of chair
Slowly I turned around bending over slightly to show my ass as I sat down on the chair, giving my back to the crowd.
“You’ll probably say that it was juvenile, but I think that I deserve to smile” I sang running my hand through my hair
Two of my backup dancers came over helping me out of my blazer. Allowing my half naked body to be on display
I leaned back showcasing my neck and half covered breast to the crowd
“I bust the windows out your car, You know I did cause i left my mark” I sang slowly coming back up
I turned over continuing to sing as I ran my hands over my body, spreading my legs and leaning forward. Locking eyes with Matt in the crowd
My backup dancers came over to me running their hands all over my body as I rolled my neck back as I sang.
As I sang we started to dance swaying our bodies, grabbing onto each other. They circled me before getting down on their knees raking their hands up my legs and to my ass
“You could never feel how I felt that day. Until that happens baby you don’t know pain” I sang as we did our next move which was laying on the floor with our legs spread open, and then putting our right left over the left and turning us over. Lifting our ass off the floor slowly as I continued to sing.
“You broke my heart, so I broke your car” I sang slowly getting up and running my hands up my body
“You caused me pain, so I did the same” I sang as we swayed our hips to the beat
We were nearing the end of the performance, and I never felt more powerful than now.
As I sang the last part I seductively walked over to my chair sitting down, and one of my dancers came over sitting on my lap as I ran my hands up her body.
“Now watch, I bust the windows out your car” I sang before the song ended
Everyone was standing up cheering and clapping and whistling at us. We all got up bowing and waving at everyone blowing kisses before we ran off stage.
“HOLY SHIT THAT WAS AMAZING GUYS” I said to my girls
“Dude we fucking killed it” they said as we tried to catch our breath
“I’m so proud of you guys for killing it tonight” I said pulling them into a group hug
We all changed into our regular clothes, saying our goodbyes and heading out. I met Matt and his brothers outside.
“Babyyyyy you fucking did amazing holy shit” Matt said smiling at me and pulling me in for a hug
“Thank you baby” I said kissing him
“Y/N you fucking ate that shit up, I would’ve never thought you were like that” Nick said hugging me too
“I was so nervous I didn’t think I had that in me either” I said laughing
“Yeah I almost felt like I wasn’t supposed to see some of those moves” Chris said laughing and hugging me
“Stoppp thank you guys” I said laughing
We headed out to have a celebratory dinner before heading back home.
When we got back to the triplets house I decided to shower and change into some pajamas before heading to Matt’s bed.
“Thank you for coming tonight” I said to Matt as I snuggled up to him
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world” he said winking at me
“You’re too good to me” I said kissing him
“My sexy girlfriend singing and dancing, how could I not be front row” he said smiling into the kiss
“You’re making me blush” I said smacking his chest playfully
“That dance was so fucking hot, and that outfit whewww could’ve sworn I got hard” he said in a whisper
“Oh yeah?” I asked smirking at him
“Might have to buy you more lingerie and fishnets now” he said licking his lips
“You dirty boy” I said to him
He glanced at me before pulling me in to smash our lips together. A heated kiss full of tongue and clashing teeth. So needy and hungry….fuck I needed Matt now
He pulled me on top of him, deepening our kiss as he ran his hands down my back and to my ass, gripping.
“God you drive me crazy” he said pulling away and running his tongue along his teeth
“I need you like now” I said running my fingers along his face
“Me too” he said his pupil dilated
I lifted up pulling my shirt off exposing my chest to Matt as I leaned forward smashing our lips together again. Running my hands up Matt’s shirt causing him to shiver.
I moved my kisses to his jawline, and then down to his neck. Peppering kisses down his neck causing him to moan
“Feeling good Matty?” I asked looking up at him
“Always” he said breathlessly
Matt lifted up to remove his shirt
“I love your tattooed arm” I said running my hands along his arm looking over at him to see him already staring at me
“Yeah?” He asked his chest rising up and down
“So so hot…maybe you can fuck me with your arm around my neck” I said winking at him
His eyes widen before his cheeks redden a bit.
I lean back down as I kiss him again, our chests touching making my skin burn and my heart flutter with desire.
I slid off of Matt to take my underwear off, he took off his pajama pants as well along with his underwear. When I looked over to him he was looking over at the mirror that’s diagonal from his bed.
I smirked, and looked at him
“Want to fuck me infront of the mirror pretty boy?” I asked
“If you want me to” he said looking over at me
“I want nothing more” I said
He pulled me back on top of him continuing to kiss him
I slowly started to grind on his dick allowing my arousal to cover him
“Mmm keep doing that and I’ll cum” he said looking down in between us
I moaned at his words and the feeling of his thick cock hitting my clit. I shuddered around him
“Gonna let me fuck that pretty pussy go yours?” He asked running his hands up my body
“Please” I mewled out
Matt lifted up slowly allowing me to fall back as he leaned over, wrapping his hand around my neck as he kissed me. Using that same same hand to turn my head as he kissed down my neck to my chest and down the valley of my breasts
From the valley of my breast he licked his way up back to my mouth where we made out
“I can’t hold out any longer” he said pulling
“Fuck me Matt” I croaked out
Matt lifted me up and brought me to the corner of his bed facing towards the mirror
“You get to watch me fuck you dumb” he said running his hand down my back and smacking my ass
“Oh Matt” I moaned out
He massaged my ass looking into my eyes through the mirror. He licked his lips before bringing his dick to my entrance slowly sliding into me
I let my mouth fall open as I gripped the sheets. Matt stretched me out so good everytime we fucked it made my head dizzy.
“So tight” he said bottoming out as he let his head roll back
“Fuck Matt you feel so good” I moaned out
Slowly he started to thrust into me, deep and harder. Our moans filling the room as he fucked into me
Matt gripped my waist as he fucked me causing me to fall more limp into the bed as I watched him in the mirror.
Matt’s mouth was hung open as he grunted into me, looking over at me in the mirror as his cold eyes laid on mine. Causing me to clench down on him, my stomach burning with arousal
“Shitttttt” I moaned out gripping the sheets harder
Matt kept pounding into me as he smacked my ass occasionally. I was just watching him as moans and pants fell out. My mouth hung up as I started to drool on the sheets.
“Am I fucking you dumb?” He asked licking his lips
“Y-Yes” I moaned out shutting my eyes as he started to drill into me even faster
Matt lifted me up by my hair causing me to gasp
“Look at yourself, making a mess on my cock” he said whispering into my ear as he looked into my eyes through the mirror
“Fuck Matt” I moaned out letting my head fall forward slightly as my mouth hung open
Matt pulled me back wrapping his tattooed arm around my neck as he pounded into me
“MATTT” I moaned out at the new feeling
“I’m giving you your wishes” he grunted out
His dick hitting all the right places, and I was pure puddy in his arms
“I get to watch you take my cock like a good slut and your perfect tits bounce in the mirror” he said grabbing my right breast and squeezing
“I’m going to cum” I moaned out letting my head fall forward slightly
“Me too baby, come on give it to me. I’m begging for it pretty girl” he said into my ear
Matt’s hips were snapping into me in such a delicious way, my mouth fell slack and I started to drool on his arm.
“Drooling on me now are we? Am I fucking you that good?” He asked biting his lip
“Fuck Matt…YES YES SO GOOD” I moaned out as he brought his other hand down to rub my clit
“Come on baby cum on my cock” he said rubbing faster
“Fuckkkkk” I moaned out started to quiver against him
“Give it to me I know you can” he said
“I- I’m- I’m gonna cum” I stuttered out
My mouth fell slack as I clenched down onto Matt. My orgasm washing over me as I shook on Matt’s cock. My thighs shaking and giving out on me
“Fuck Matt oh my god” I said breathing heavily as I looked at him through the mirror
“I’m gonna cum baby” he said moaning into my ear
He let me lean forward as he pulled out stroking his dick before letting his jaw fall slack. His lower abdomen began to quiver as he came on my ass
“Fuckkk y/n” he moaned out as he shuddered
He looked at me through the mirror trying to catch his breath.
“You look so fucking sexy like this” he said licking his lips
“Fuck Matt I love you so much” I said blissed out
“I love you so much too” he said
Matt got off the bed grabbing a warm towel and cleaning me up. Before helping me off the bed.
“Let’s shower” he said helping me to his bathroom
Matt and I showered, and then got out. We decided to have a snack before heading back to his room to watch a movie. We eventually dozed off in each others arms.
The End
I know I said I wasn’t in the mood to write,but suddenly I got in the mood. So I hope you enjoyed this one. As much as I did🤭🖤🖤
-J💅🏽
218 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi tell me about transversal trickshot please and what your thoughts are on which dave you chose to have that conversation thank you very much
omg okay i'd love to!!!
this is probably long so i will kindly put it under a cut!
it's probably not related to what you are asking but the name is also a joke specifically relating to the fact that bro was stabbed with his own sword crossways, lmfao (thus, transversal)
anyway!
basically, i picked Dave (god) for two reasons to start, and then it spiraled from there:
ONE, the last Actual Conversation he had with Bro from his point of view was a kind of fraught, awkward conversation in chapter 12, which was written to reflect the last time Dave remembers Bro treating him like a little kid (which is to say, with kindness) (and then does, in this scene, treat him like a little kid). that's some deep deserts lore bullshit, but there's a, waves hand, scene in katabasis that is being directly referenced here. not terribly important.
BUT u know his last interactions with him were like -> watch him almost die -> go back into time using powers he said he never wanted to use again and talk to Bro in this strange gentle way that was completely alien to him because neither of them know what to do or how to talk to each other -> watch him almost die but from future dave's perspective -> watch jane bring him back to live -> see him again and the first thing out of his mouth is "i'm glad you're not dead again"
Basically, he didn't get to have a conversation on the roof like Dave(sprite) did, and so i needed something, i suppose, that would let him connect with Bro, and Dave already had that, so it was his turn.
TWO: Rose lmfao. I had mad crazy plans early on for Rose and Bro, but it also involved tackling something i consider to be a problem in canon; once Rose started drinking, Dave started to retreat away from her, and he certainly didn't do shit to help. Dave is a coward. That's pretty much canon. He doesn't like confrontation, he's not any good at working out his friends’ problems, and he's selfish. But because he doesn't understand Rose, it leads to conflict, and because he can't talk to anyone else about it, it became easier, in that way, to talk to Bro, who he knew at this point, had at least some kind of past with Mom, who he knew is a (recovering) alcoholic.
This then led to The Sword, and a moment in time where Bro gets to see a peek at Dave, and his shame, and the thing that, at that moment in time, is quite literally weighing on him. if that makes sense???
also got to make a funny joke about bro and dirk a la lancelot vs galahad (arthurian legend jokes, caledfwlch, etc)
I wish I could explain how i tend to write conversations between characters but i guess just like. most of the time i do dialogue first and fill everything in later. this usually lets me kind of make sure we stay on track, or at least meander naturally, and then i can fill in what's going on in between, especially if there is a big pause!
So while it starts about Rose, it ends up involving the sword, and thus, the Nasty Death Scar, as it is so lovingly called in my household.
Part of the reason i would not think Dave(sprite) suitable for this is that while he is Dave, and is morbid, his current preoccupation with playing a hand in Bro's death would probably do nothing more than make him feel worse. also he's got his own scar, bro ain't special.
And also Dave, at this point specifically, still has all his crazy unresolved feelings relating to the sword, the fact that Bro doesn't seem bothered too badly by his own death (though we find out later this is not true) and he just. Is gross. LOL i love him but Dave is gross.
I think by seeing Bro's scar, he can kind of like. confirm in a weird way that the event Actually Happened, and that it's over, and that Bro is here, and is alive. That there isn't just a huge fucking hole punched through his abdomen and that Dave isn't insane?? you know??
also references to signs at sundown, my beloved <3
and then of course at the end we see Bro offer a little piece of himself that Dave has never known, although rng is intentionally littered with these, one of my big things with the Strangeness between bro and the daves is that they don't Really Know him as a person. they know bro as BRO the guardian, BRO the person who "trained" (yikes) them, but they don't know anything else about him. This is common with kids as they grow up, as we learn that our parents used to be kids, too. So that one little nametag, handed over begrudgingly, maybe a little embarrassingly, is Bro giving Dave a little piece of himself at that age, something that at this point, this Dave needs desperately. He's already jealous of DS, though it'll take him time to realize it, and so it was important for him to have this conversation with Bro, and to see him as human.
I hope any of this was anything!!! and also sorry it's so long!
#THIS GOT REALLY LONG I'M MORTIFIED SORRY SORRY SORRY#SORRY I HOPE THIS ANSWERS UHHH ANYTHING????????????#the run and go fic#yup i'm embarrassed i'm sorry#i'm so sorry anon i hope this is okay#rng director's cut
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
{slashers x fem reader who has a blood kink? sorry if this is against ur boundaries u don’t have to if ur uncomfy!!!} submitted by anon but I accidentally deleted the original ask because I am an idiot.
Also darling, you're fine, all my boundaries got destroyed years ago.
Warnings: blood (duh), knives, a lot of cutting, mentions of self-harm and necrophilia.
Also a female reader this time.
Michael Myers
Oh Michael loves it.
Blood always gets this man going, I think we've established that.
Wait a second.
You want to cut him? *slowly backs off*
Yeah, he doesn't necessarily trust you with a knife.
Michael doesn't mind the pain, his pain endurance is way too high for that. It's just that cutting him would be a dominant action. And Michael really doesn't want to give you dominance.
He'll let himself get cut if he can cut you.
Michael is all for period sex if that's your thing. Be careful though, he is not going to be soft just because you're sensitive.
Michael just thrives off of the fact that, not only are you shedding blood, you're very sensitive and you're in pain as well.
A pure sadist, this man.
Vincent Sinclair
Blood? Doesn't that involve you getting hurt?
Vincent is skeptical.
He really, really doesn't want you to get hurt.
It would turn you on?
Hm.
Let's test it first.
Vincent will be very slow and careful, stopping as soon as he thinks something's wrong.
You have to reassure him to get going quite a lot.
After he realizes what effect blood has on your body, he overthinks it again and then consents.
He's going to create a new and very special safe word for this, just in case he ever really hurts you.
He himself doesn't really mind getting cut, as long as it makes you happy. This man would do anything for your happiness.
To be quite honest, Vincent loves the marks you leave on him. He looks at them in the mirror the next morning, a bashful grin painting his handsome features. I am so soft for Vincent please.
Period sex? Are you sure you're not in pain during that?
Vincent isn't grossed out by body fluids, but he won't go down on you during your time of the month.
His problem with period sex is that you're already hurting and he doesn't want to cause further harm.
He's perfectly fine with just fingering you and receiving blowjob though he can do without those if you don't want to until you're off your period again.
Vincent would literally do anything for you and I'm not kidding.
Bo Sinclair
"Woah there sugar... didn't think you'd be into that."
He's a bit surprised in the beginning.
Period sex is a no for him, don't even bring it up. He'll probably vomit already at the word period.
Him cutting you is totally fine and he likes that if you're fine with it.
However him getting cut is not going to happen.
To make it up to you, he can fuck you after he just killed a victim.
He'll thrust into you, fresh dark-red splashes of blood painted on his face.
"Do you like that? Knowing that I fucking killed a guy and then immediately came in here to fuck the shit outta you? I bet'cha do sugar."
Lester Sinclair
B-..blood?
Lester is pretty concerned until you explain it a bit better.
After that he's still concerned.
Hmm, how about animal blood?
Lester just doesn't want to be in pain and he doesn't want to put you in pain.
If you're fine with non-human blood then he's very relieved, having been scared that you'll leave him.
Please reassure your feelings for him or he's going to worry for months now.
Baby Firefly
She's a bit astonished in the beginning. She just didn't expect that from you, out of all people.
But, being a part of the Firefly family, she's totally down for it!
She'll gladly pepper you in little cuts and then suck at them. Baby loves using her tongue on you anyway so it's a win-win situation.
She's also very open for period sex. After all, she's done worse than eat someone out during their time of the month.
Baby is the best at aftercare. She'll make you a hot bubble bath, clean the cuts and she got sparkly pink band-aids for the both of you!
Otis Driftwood
Did you just say blood? *drags you to his torture room*
Otis... is so down for this.
Can he.. like carve his name into your body?
Oh and can he take a picture of you?
Can he take a picture of you next to a corpse?
You just wanted to see him bloody, god damnit.
Period sex is not something he'd insist on doing but he'll never say no to fucking you.
Billy Loomis
You want to do what?
Billy has never heard of a blood kink before. It reminds him of his love for the red substance though.
The only difference is that he doesn't use real human blood.
It takes a lot of coaxing but after a while he might be okay with cutting you a little bit..
After seeing how much you enjoy it, he might let you cut him too.. but not too deep!
Billy would also really enjoy fucking you after coming home from a kill. He'd be drenched in blood, the red fluid clinging to his chest and slowly smearing onto your back.
He smirks as he spreads the red fluid on your perky nipples, watching you throw your head back and moan shamelessly.
Stu Macher
Sure, why not?
Stu is an incredibly adventurous person, even when it comes to sex.
You trust him and he trusts you so where's the problem?
I don't think Stu would actively enjoy a blood kink but he's not going to say no since you asked him so nicely.
The pure facts that you're getting so aroused from a simple liquid is enough to make him turn feral anyway.
Who needs blood when you can have Y/N begging on her pretty, little knees for your cock?
Brahms Heelshire
"No."
"But-"
"I said no."
Yeah no, blood scares him.
It will need a lot of coaxing to even get him to try it.
I don't think he'd like it very much.
But Brahms will gladly kill the grocery-boy for you if you'd like to see him drenched in someone's blood.
Thomas Hewitt
Blood? Sweetheart, what if you get hurt?
He'll gently cradle your face in his big palms, searching for sincerity in your eyes.
Upon finding it, he'll nod and ask you to explain it to him again.
He'll try it for you. If you're going out of your way to ask this of him, he has to try it in his opinion.
He doesn't like the act of cutting to get either your or his blood and he'd rather have the blood to be his.
Tommy is a big, strong man. He can take a few small cuts.
But you're his tiny, sweet Y/N, he can't cut you?!
So yeah, to get him to cut you will be quite a quest.
As soon as he sees your reaction to blood, he blushes, desire clouding in his brown eyes.
Maybe this is a good idea after all.
He'd still have you or him covered in animal blood, rather than human blood.
Thomas doesn't care if you're on your period or not, but he'll immediately stop when you're in pain.
Just relax Y/N, he'll go get a towel and then he'll take care of his "little problem".
Josef
Blood? But why?
Okay, for you, he might try.
He enjoys it more than he originally thought.
Blood has an important meaning to him too and to see it spread all over your pretty body.. just does things to him.
Period sex is not his thing.
I don't even think he knows how periods work.
Amanda Young |TW SELF HARM|
Amanda has heard about blood kinks before and you can not change my mind.
She's down to try it if you both feel comfortable.
However, Amanda has had struggles with self-harm in her past and would therefore prefer you getting cut.
She just doesn't like willingly adding new scars to her collection.
There's something so arousing about you licking her bloody fingers clean, she can't help but press her thighs together.
Period sex?
She isn't the biggest fan of that idea but fingering you is not a problem to her.
She's kind of confused since her cramps are too painful to get aroused during her period.
Her aftercare is also very good. Amanda always has bandages and band-aids stacked away somewhere and she knows how to deal with the wounds she's left
#slashers x reader#slashers headcannons#michael myers x redaer#vincent sinclair x reader#bo sinclair x reader#lester sinclair x reader#baby firefly x reader#otis driftwood x reader#billy loomis x reader#stu macher x reader#josef x reader#thomas hewitt x reader#brahms heelshire x reader#amanda young x reader
611 notes
·
View notes
Note
Yes hi can I geettttttt one large Katsuki with a side of dick please?
yes ma'am coming right up....... ok its ready come pick it up at the register
keyword: LARGE katsuki... extra large... 2 XL.... 3 xl.... head go brrrrr
premise: where in which you model dynamight’s new clothing line and for whatever reason dynamight himself can’t keep his hands off of u...
enjoy <3<3 i kinda popped off lowkey (even tho i ended up using his hero name smh im sowwy)
-
It’s not like you’re small.
You think you’re a good size. Absolutely fine, of a perfect height, in a perfect body, everything. There is not a single thing about you that isn’t normal or expected, and for all the time you spend thinking about your looks, in the end, your body, for all it’s worth, is yours and actually quite comfortable.
But damn. If Katsuki Bakugo, the infamous, the incredible, Dynamight, isn’t one of the largest men you have ever seen in your fucking life.
In comparison to him, you might as well be the size of a kid. A doll.
It’s not like you didn’t know this... or at least, could have guessed. His height is broadcasted to the world in all the interviews he’s in, and mentioned in almost every hero gossip magazine like it’s the only cool thing about him… It’s just that, in real life, he’s a bit more... imposing… than you thought he would be.
The only real images you have of him are from the sports festivals you watched when you were younger, and the blurry shots from the news that play on repeat almost every day.
Neither of which truly encapsulate the sheer size of him in comparison to you, and really, what a powerhouse of a man he actually is.
Bakugo towers over everyone, at least by a full head, and what he doesn’t have in height, he makes up for in bulk. His body is nothing less than that of a statue’s, and by all means just goes to show anyone, villain or not, that he is an absolute machine of destruction, a predator, you name it, wrapped in muscle and sinew and brutal, pink scars.
And he is currently shirtless, standing on the well-lit, white tarp of the studio background, waiting for you.
“Where’s the new extra?”
He bemoans, his expression curved into a mean scowl, practically stomping a foot in the direction of his manager, to which your stomach does flip flops and your heart sinks. Too busy caught up in watching him from afar, you rush to pull off the robe they draped you in and hurry to his side, dressed only in a Dynamight themed lingerie set and boots, held together with ridged, green garters.
“I’m here, I’m sorry, I-“
Bakugo’s eyes flit to yours, halting your nervous words instantly, before moving his gaze to look you up and down as he nods his head back and gestures to his side.
“Doesn’t matter now,” he purrs, his voice deep and rough, a hand reaching out to grab your arm, “Get over here.”
You nod, quickly, your teeth knocking together as you move into position beside him and face the camera that’s been teasing you since you got here.
Hired to model a new line of intimate, Dynamight clothing march, you know that his agency only called you because everyone else on their roster had quit. They called you because supposedly Dynamight was sick of looking at “models…” and said that out of everyone, you were the only one he had approved of… Though you know that probably just means that all the other girls were chased away by Bakugo’s mean snarl, and you were the first replacement to answer the phone.
Still…
Part of you doesn’t entirely believe that, at least if the way you feel Katsuki Bakugo practically salivating over your shoulder is anything to go by, his wide chest against your back as he very, non-discreetly presses his hips into your ass and runs his thick hand over your sides.
And when the sounds of shutters start going off, your expression now neutralized for the camera and nervousness long buried for another time, you can’t help but let yourself lean back into him, your hands moving to rest on his as he grips your waist with the strength only a hero in the Top Ten could have.
-
If you thought that Bakugo was large before… you are definitely not disappointed now.
You are on your knees in front of him, his legs spread to accommodate the way you sit between them, and your hands on his thighs as he hastily frees his cock from the cage that is his sweatpants.
You can’t help but gape, staring open-mouthed at the already hard member, which curves upward toward his belly and is surrounded by fine, blonde pubes.
“Surprised?” he mutters, a knowing lilt to his raspy voice, enjoying the sight of you going slack jawed, and he smirks at your expression, his canines bared and eyes heavy-lidded.
It’s large. So large you suddenly wonder what you’re doing, and how the hell you’re going to please him properly. He’s definitely the biggest you’ve seen probably... ever, and though the feelings are mostly overwhelmed by a twisted sense of desire, fear strikes your heart when you think about taking him in your mouth and… elsewhere.
You narrow your eyes, one hand reaching out to gently grip the shaft, the head unashamedly dripping a milky precum which you use to give him a few timid pumps before looking to his eyes for confirmation that that is what he wants.
He groans immediately, almost sounding relieved, throwing his head back onto the back of the chair as you shyly work him.
“I’ve been thinking about you all day, you know,” he says into the air, “You and that fuckin’ body.”
To be honest, it’s no surprise, especially when you consider how he practically didn’t take his hands off you the entire shoot, and think about the fact that in more than a few of the photos you took, his mouth was on some part of your body…
You can’t help but worry your lip between your teeth thinking about it, blinking up at him and staying silent.
“What, you scared of me or something, baby?”
Bakugo tilts his head toward yours, an eyebrow raised in question, aiming to close the gap between your faces but not quite entirely.
“No, I just…” you hesitate, unsure of how to proceed. If anyone knows how attractive Bakugo is, it’s he himself, and you definitely don’t want to ruin the moment by saying something stupid.
You also don’t want him in on the information that you’ve never been with a guy so big, alongside the fact that you’ve never been with a Pro Hero of his caliber, either, afraid that maybe he’ll mock you for your inexperience or sudden petulance, and in thinking so, you settle with a shrug, a smile, and a simple,
“I’m just nervous.”
Though your hand on his dick slows to an embarrassing stop, being that you’re too preoccupied with trying to fight the urge to shy away from his intense red eyes, his smile only returns, still cocky, still Bakugo, but nonetheless quite sweet.
And in his smile, in the way he wraps one hand around yours on his cock before leaning down to kiss you, it doesn’t take much thought to know that he’ll most definitely take care of you, big dick or not.
He’s a hero, after all, the biggest one you know.
-
The pictures end up being released about a month later, to which all of your friends (and almost the entirety of Japan) immediately pick up their phone to ask you about. They gush over Dynamight, telling you how lucky you are to have scored the modeling gig, to have been so up close and personal with the Dynamight himself, but you can only laugh in response.
Looking at the photos, though, you can see what they mean, as once again you are reminded of just the sheer size of him, the images doing nothing to hide the way your head doesn’t even reach his chin, or how his fingers on your waist easily dip toward your belly button in a tight squeeze.
Or the fact that in all of them, he looks at you like he’s absolutely, positively smitten.
And from the glaring, possessive look in his eyes, you are also reminded of your escapade in the dressing room, the way Bakugo smiled at you, and the large cock that will haunt your sexual fantasies for the rest of your life.
It’s honestly no wonder that, when the Dynamight himself posts a photo from the shoot on his personal page, the caption is a bold, “call me.”
#bakugou x reader#bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugo x reader#katsuki bakugou x reader#bnha x reader#yall this idea has been in my head since last week#i just want to pose next to him in his merch as he looks in the camera all s*xy or whatever#im sorry i didnt write the actual d*ck s*cking i just honestly couldnt think of what he'd say and didnt want to make u wait#and to my insecure ladies... this is definitely abt u don't worry#bakugo most def likes a lil chub#i called him and asked#and he said yes st*pid now stop calling me#also i will do my other requests i swear#i just sp*t this out and needed to finish it before it d*ed#will i ever write another fic?#l*rd knows
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
I had another intense daydream about DILF Bakugou. It will be a continuation from my first one.
Again, I am not a strong/good writer so please don’t come at me for mistakes. I also didn’t think I was going to get attached to the kids but haha I did. The oldest one’s name is Liam and the younger one’s name is Noah.
Warning: Cursing and mutual pining.
----
The elevator door opens at his penthouse apartment, it was 8:30am and you were already there. Seems kinda eager Y/N. You stir in the elevator trying to calm yourself down pressing your hand to your chest taking a deep breath as the elevator door opens. You almost forgot how to breathe when you saw Bakugou standing there in front of the elevator holding two cups of coffee. “Good morning, you’re early” he says. She’s on time, I like that. Drinking you in before handing you a badly painted ceramic mug full of coffee and turning to walk to the kitchen. You quickly walk behind him. “I don’t know how you take your coffee. I have creamer if you want” he says as he pulls it out of the fridge and places it in front of you. “Just a little sugar” you say pushing past his hands grabbing the covered sugar that was on the counter. He grabs it before you can and places it in front of you but not before you hands touch for a moment. You jolt your hand back and smile warmly as you put a spoonful into your coffee and take a sip. That was cute. It’s silent as you two take turns staring at each other while the other looks around the house or out the window. Bakugou was wearing a black tank top that beautifully showcased the muscles that were scattered with scars as a result of years of hero work. He was wearing black pajama pants that hung low enough for you to almost see his happy trail. God, he looks so good. Stay calm. After you both finish your coffee he stands up and leads you up the staircase. The apartment looks bigger than last night, the light beaming in showcasing it’s grandness. Bakugou tells you about the boys, one is 11 and the other is 3 ½. He goes on to talk about them like if they’re the best thing to ever happen to him. Who would’ve thought he had a soft side. He looks so happy when he talks about them. I can’t fuck this up.
You walk behind him as he enters the boy’s bedroom but stop in your tracks before entering looking at the sign that says, “NO GIRLS ALLOWED” in big bold badly written handwriting. “Hi” says the older one staring at you, arms crossed and tense. No one can deny that he’s Bakugou’s child. “Hi, my name is Y/N” you said with a warm smile. The little one ran to you hugging both your legs together almost making you fall over. “I like your name. You’re pretty. Why are you here?” he said all in one breath looking up at you. “She’s here to hang out with us today,” he said, mirroring the older one. “Do we really need a babysitter?” said the older one under his breath but still loud enough for you to hear him. Bakugou looked at him and said, “Yes, you can do your own thing but Y/N’s here to mostly help your brother” he grunted annoyed at the older one’s questioning. Wow you can cut the tension with a knife. The little one hangs on your legs and you bend down to hold him in your arms. “You smell good. She’s mine now” wrapping his arms around your neck and red eyes staring daggers at his dad and brother. Yeah, he’s bakugou’s kid for sure too. “You can keep her” the older one says under his breath rolling his eyes pushing past you leaving the room. The rest of the morning went well, you spent most of the time with the little one. You guys had breakfast together. Bakugou made pancakes and eggs while the little one showed you his massive Almighty collection. The bigger one walking by from time to time just to see what you both were doing.
After breakfast it was bathtime. You were giving the younger one a bath when Bakugou walked by. He looked in and he wouldn’t help but smile at the view of you kneeled down in front of the tub blowing bath bubbles, praising the little one for being so good at it. I think I did the right thing. Look at how happy he is. He deserves to have a content woman in his life. They’re perfect together. Don’t fuck this up man. He leans against the door frame. The little one notices and looks past Y/N at his dad. “What are we doing today daddy?” he says with a hopeful smile it’ll be something fun. “Yeah, what are we doing today daddy?”. You pause covering your mouth immediately after saying it. FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK FUCK. “U-Um I was thinking about the park, movie at home then dinner. How does that sound?” he said staring at the back of your head then at the little one. “YESSSSSSSSS” the little one jumped up out of the bathtub slashing your shirt as a result. You all laugh. You turn to grab the towel hanging on the sink and your eyes meet. His eyes are so intense. He probably wants to fire me. God, why would I say that. Little did you know Bakugou melted at the sound of you calling him that. Something about was so natural like it just melted off your tongue. The morning went normal as well. There were moments where you could feel Bakugou’s eyes on you. You peek at him for a second just for your eyes to meet and him to look away at the last second. When you arrive at the park you clench at your purse full of park necessaries. The two boys run away as soon as they see the playground. You sat yourself down beside Bakugou, not moving your eyes from the little one. Some time passes before you finally say, “I-I’m sorry about earlier, I didn’t mean to call you that. I-I was just repeating what he said” you explained not making eye contact. Bakugou’s heart broke a little. He didn’t mind it all. He was actually thinking about it the whole time. Imaging you calling him that over and over. “I didn’t mind,” he says, staring at you and letting out a little giggle. “I thought I made things awkward” letting out a sigh of relief moving her eyes to meet his. His eyes can really turn a hole into anyone huh. Her whole body relaxed as she put the purse on the side of the bench. “You didn't,” he said, looking out at the little one as he waved from the highest part of the playground. She sat there as they began to make small talk. “Y/N, come here. Come play with me!” the little one yelled at the top of lungs. “Coming!” you call out jumping to your feet, your breast giggling as you stand up. Bakugou noticed. Bakugou is left there watching you and the little one giggling and hugging each other. I can get used to this.
The little one was playing in the sandbox while you were standing on the outside watching him and praising him for doing a good job. “Hey, I’ve never seen you here before” A voice says behind you, making you jump. “No, I’ve never been to this park” you say looking up at the man. He was pretty handsome, tall and wearing a bookbag probably full of park supplies. “Is that your kid? He’s cute” he says, waving at the little one. “No, I’m just the babysitter” you say, turning back around to face the boy. You turn your head to look at Bakugou and he’s already on his way over to you. “Hey man, can I help you?” He steps between you and the man. Bakugou towering over the poor man. “Oh shit, dynamight. I’m a huge fan” he says reaching out to grab his hand but Bakugou just stares at him. You are intensely staring at the two men until the little one grabs you and pulls you away from them and towards the swings. “Man, your babysitter is hot, but I’m guessing you already knew that. We’ve all been checking her out” the man said, staring at you and pointing at the group of men all staring at you as you push the little on the swing. “What?” he said looking around at all the men staring at you like a piece of meat. OH FUCK NO. He didn’t even notice how good you looked in that outfit. WHY WERE THERE SO MANY MEN HERE WTF. You bent over to tie the little one’s shoes putting your whole ass on display. He would almost hear the men gasp and whisper disgusting things about you to each other. Little explosion started in his hands. Calm down. The man walked away at that point seeing how angry he looked. He walked over to you and grabbed you by the wrist, “Lets go” he said almost growling. “Yeah, is everything okay?” you say confused. “Fucking extras..” he said looking around letting go of your wrist. You grab the little one and call out to the bigger that they’re leaving. The whole car ride was awkward. He kept looking at you from time to time and scuffing. What’s up with the mental gymnastics?. What happened? Did the guy say something about you? You barely talked to him. The next few weeks were filled with laughs, cuddles and love while you were in the Bakugou home from the little one and occasional engagement from the older one. Bakugou wanted to make you feel more at home so he would buy flowers and candles and put them around the apartment. It was a nice thought.
One day you can hear him stirring and cursing under his breath in his office when you walk by. “Are you coming to watch the movie with us daddy” said the little one as he came into the office. “Nah. You guys can watch it. I’ll sit this one out” he said turning around in his computer chair to look at him. “No, I really want you to. We have to watch it like a family.” he looks up at him and attempts to do the world’s best puppy dog face. “I don’t think so” he twirls in his computer chair back to the computer. “I think It'll make Y/N pretty happy.” he says squinting at him. “Right Y/N?” Manipulative little brat “It would make me very happy” you straighten your back as you hear your name. “Okay” he says standing up from his chair walking behind you as you go to put on a movie while sitting on the couch. The little one was firmly placed on your lap while the older one was on the other side of the coach on their phone. Bakugou sat next to you placing his arm above the coach behind you. 30 minutes into the movie both Bakugou and the little one were snoring. The little one now wrapped around your chest drooling on your collarbone and bakugou knocked out on your shoulder. This felt nice. You continued and watched the movie trying your hardest not to laugh loud enough for both of them to wake up. Once the movie ended it was already dark out so you decided to shift your way out of bakugou’s grasp now firmly wrapped around your waist and bring the little one to bed. The older one watching your every move.
You’re about to wake up bakugou still knocked out on the couch when you hear, “You’re not our mom you know”. You turn around to see the older one standing there, arms crossed. “I didn’t think I was honey” you say softly walking over him. He steps back and stares at you. “Y-You’re acting like-like our mom used to” he said in almost a whisper. “I’m not here to replace your mom my love. I’m just here to make your family’s life a little easier. I’m sorry if I’m stepping on anyone toes.” He huffed in response. “I just miss her sometimes and you kinda..” He stops himself. You sit down in one of the stools in front of him. “I’m here if you wanna talk about it” you say looking at him. You were unsure about what happened to their mom. Bakugou never mentioned her and neither did the kids. It was almost like she didn’t exist until now. “She left us a while ago. She told us she was coming back for us but she never did. I-I don’t know why” he looked like he was going to cry. You jumped out of your seat to hug him but he rejected it, pushing your arms away. “I can’t trust you. You’re going to leave just like her” he said as he ran to his room and slammed the door. You didn’t want to leave him like this. You couldn’t leave him like this. You waited a while and decided to make him his favorite meal, spicy ramen. You go in front of the door and knock, “I left some spicy ramen in front of the door. I figured you were hungry” you say leaning against the door. No answer. You can hear the door slowly creak open as you walk away and you smile.
You walk away going downstairs to clean up the mess you made. “Hey” a voice says from the couch. Bakugou stretches his huge muscles and it makes your knees feel a little weak. “Hey sleepy head” you say lovingly. “How long was I out?” he said looking for a clock. “I’m not sure, A while I guess. I finished watching the movie a while ago” you said scrubbing the dish. “Oh” he said in a raspy voice. “Anything happened?” he said, reading your tense body language. “Liam brought up his mom” you said biting your bottom lip not meeting his eyes. “Oh fuck, that agan” he says wiping his mouth with his hand then rubbing his neck. “Yeah, he was pretty upset. Do you mind if I sleep over. I’ll sleep on the couch if anything. I want to make him his favorite breakfast in the morning.” you look up at Bakugou almost with tears in your eyes. She really likes my kids, wow. “U-Um yeah, you can sleep over whenever you like. We have an extra bedroom. I kinda like it better than you going home.” he says looking for your reaction. “I really only use my place to sleep and come back here anyways” you say giggling. “Then you should just move here” he says.
You both stare at each other. “Yeah, I think I’d like that,” you said trying to conceal your smile.
Tag: @lil-miminini ❤️
#mha bakugou#dilf bakugou#mha fanfiction#bnha bakugo katsuki#difbakugou#dad bakugou#bakugou x y/n#bakugou angst
648 notes
·
View notes
Text
Dilf Deku Headcanons
Midoriya Izuku x GN!Reader
warnings: swearing, NSFW themes (nothing graphic just briefly mentioned),brief mention of bullying/scars, idk this is pretty tame nothing is really described... if u don't like dilfs then don't read this :)
a/n: okay! this is my first time writing/publishing anything on Tumblr so please go easy on me haha... I've had ridiculous Deku brain rot lately and I decided I had to jot a few thoughts down. I'm playing with the idea of turning this into a writing blog, but I am undecided! If anyone wants to thirst for one Izuku Midoriya please come talk to me please anyway without further ado here are some Dilf!Deku hcs.... I'm playing around with doing a NSFW version after this so if you would like to see that let me know!
w/c: 1,498
Okay everyone today I want to talk about Dilf!Izuku
This may be controversial but I personally believe that he has the most Dilf potential out of any of the class 1A boys and no I will not be taking criticism at this time
Sorry but even when he’s younger he has Dilf energy - he’s caring, considerate, takes your feelings into account like a dad he just wants to take care of his baby
oh fuck this man no no no
And listen, here me out on this one….. he has more dilf potential than Bakugo and allow me to tell you why
We can all agree that Bakugo has been confident his entire life, so of course he’s going to be confident when he’s older?? duh
But IZUKU is a different story altogether, he’s never felt confident in his life
His whole childhood he was looked down on for being quirkless, and bullied by someone he thought was his friend kachaan
THEN he got a quirk but oh every time he uses it it breaks all his fucking bones and leaves him with all these scars, and he appreciates them because of what they represent but also he’s young when he gets them, he’s already prone to insecurity and when he’s younger ESPECIALLY i think they just remind him of previous failures
He only started to gain a little bit of confidence in his UA days, but it takes time to rebuild yourself after you’ve been torn down for so long, so I honestly imagine he doesn’t even feel an inkling of confidence until his third year or later and even then, it’s new, it’s unfamiliar, he doesn’t totally know how to act
Because yes, by his third year, he’s starting to realize, oh wow okay, I have an incredible quirk and all these new abilities that I can control better, and wow people are paying attention for good reasons , because he’s tall and attractive, probably cuts his hair undercut Izuku supremacy and he’s made some solid friends who help boost his confidence too
But despite all this, deep down he still feels like that quirkless little kid who has to work three times as hard as anyone else and still doesn’t get the recognition he deserves
But OH BOY
DILF IZUKU??? This man is dripping with confidence
he’s older now. he’s overcome a lot. he’s gone to therapy, and worked his way through the pro hero ranks until he earned his number one spot fair and square, that’s something no one can take away from him
He’s loaded now (see below because I go on a whole tangent), he has nice tasteful style that can only come with age and experience
He knows he’s hot now, because its simply no longer something that can be denied, anyone with eyes can see how attractive he is
If he catches you staring at him, he doesn’t shy away. His cheeks might tint slightly, but he stares right back with the biggest smirk on his face. “See something you like, angel?”
Probably finds reasons to show off slightly but he’s Dilf!Izuku so it’s subtle, it’s meant just for you and god does it drive you crazy
The way he’ll reach for and grab at things when he’s around you because he knows you like his hands (he wants to hold your bags and please let him he just wants to feel needed)
They way he stands behind you while you cook, or work, or read…. He sees you sitting or standing so peacefully and he’ll come up behind you to check out what it is you’re doing. He’ll lean down slowly, quietly, stopping when his breath is on your neck and your nose is filled with his scent, and take a quick peek at whatever it is you’re working on. It takes you a moment to turn around, your heart starting to beat faster in your chest due to his looming presence behind you (I DON’T KNOW WHY THIS IS HOT TO ME IT JUST IS OKAY). When you finally turn to face him, his face breaks into a small smile of victory as his strong hand catches your jaw in a gentle grip and he places an achingly soft kiss to your lips before saying “You look so cute when you’re concentrating,”. As you’re about to go in for another, he lets you go and stands up again, his eyes twinkling. “No no, you’re working so hard baby, don’t let me distract you,” WHEN ALL HE WANTED WAS TO DISTRACT YOU and he succeeded and now you’re all hot and bothered, with no hope of resuming what you were doing
Dilf Deku is a tease I know he is but it’s okay he’ll make it up to you later ;)
He’s got shorter, slightly more cropped hair with grey mixed in with the green, his face more lean and angular… not to mention years of pro hero work have toned his body into an absolute work of art I’m gonna pass out just thinking about it
Freckles splashed across his skin like hundreds of little constellations, accented by scars and marks from old wounds (which he’s come to appreciate - they show how hard he’s worked, how much he’s sacrificed to get to where he is now) he’s muscular but I don’t think he’s quite as big as All Might (his fighting style is a lot different so of course he would build muscle in different places) so this means LEGS LEGS LEGS
LEG MUSCLES FOR DAYS
THICK FUCKING THIGHS oh my god
And holy shit his back muscles too WHEW sometimes in the morning when he gets up before you, you watch him sit on the edge of the bed and flex his shoulders and arms to stretch out in the hazy morning light and Jesus Christ
Dilf Deku is older now, he’s spent his entire life working himself too hard and he missed out on a lot of the fun, impulsive, chaotic things young people do, so I think he wants to let loose a little in his older age, have some fun for once
And what’s more perfect than sweet, youthful, tantalizing little you to indulge in ?
He’s so doting, just wants to make you feel special and cared for
And on that note, if you will indulge me for a moment
he’s fucking RICH like
He’s the number one pro hero, he has brand deals on brand deals on brand deals
And I don’t mean to slander All Might and Endeavor, but in terms of a hot, fuckable number one pro hero, Deku has them beat by a landslide so I imagine he has a wider range of brand deals too, because he can sell the sex appeal angle
I mean can you imagine him in interviews? Interacting with fans? Confident yes, but still soft spoken and kind, almost gentle but anyone can tell he’s completely in control, of himself, of the interview, of the audience, this man has the entire country world wrapped around his little finger
All this to say he’s DRIPPING WITH MONEY
he’s like the guy that overtips an OBSCENE amount like if the waiter is really nice he’ll tip like $300 dollars and won’t even blink (I know they don’t tip at restaurants in Japan but this is more for vibes yk)
sugar daddy deku isn’t a stretch it’s a REALITY
Y’all can be officially together or not, either way Deku loves to spoil his precious little y/n
All you have to do is smile sweetly and ask, and he’s absolute putty in your hands
Complies with even the most egregious of your demands, because hey, he has the money to spare, and how could he say no when you look so cute asking so politely?
GOOD TASTE too like he has a lot of money but he knows how to spend it 😏
Additionally he’s, ya know, him, so he’s insanely charitable and donates to charities, go fund me, personal Venmo accounts of fans that need it
if a fan has like a go fund me for some reason that catches his eye, he’s going to donate and he’s going to donate a lot (A LOT)
he doesn’t even do it for the press, he does it bc he’s a good person but my GOD the press eats it up and so do the fans
These hc’s are so self indulgent but all this to say
Dilf!Deku gets what he wants when he wants it and no one is standing in his way
So when he decides it’s you he wants? Well then it’s you he’s going to get!
#bnha#bnha x reader#bnha headcanons#bnha x y/n#mha hcs#mha x reader#dilf izuku#izuku midoriya headcanons#deku#dilf deku#deku x reader#deku x y/n#mha#mha x y/n#izuku midoriya x reader#izuku midoriya x y/n#izuku
594 notes
·
View notes
Note
hello i hope it’s ok to request this, but I can’t stop thinking about that like really pure tender-emotional sex with la squadra— I was wondering if I could request that as either hc’s ( or a fic with melone or prosciutto if you get a muse for it ) I don’t know if that’s enough to go on but aa the sappy thoughts are running around my head ; v ; ) please and thank you ( unrelated but I love your blog and hope you have a wonderful day/night 💘 )
OK FIRST OF ALL THIS POST MADE IT INTO MY DREAMS i dreamt that i was answering this and one of the points i wrote for ghiaccio was 'don't worry he can handle it he's a gamer' WHAT DOES THAT MEAN??? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN???????
BUT!!! TOTALLY OK TO REQUEST IT I AM A SUCKER FOR TENDER EMOTIONAL SEX
and thank u sm afjglfndng i hope ur day/night is wonderful too 🥺❤️❤️❤️💕 even tho i think u sent this like maybe over a week ago time isn't real fjgkfkfj I HOPE UR CURRENT AND ALL FUTURE DAYS R GOOD. here are some hcs for u!!!!!
la squadra and lovemaking ❤️
18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI
risotto ✂️
he absolutely craves intimacy. goin hard and gettin freaky is super fun obviously but to him the best, most fulfilling and satisfying sex is when he and his partner are just close as can be in every way
he wants to open up. create a space like that for him, where he knows he's as safe with you as you are with him, and you'll really see the incredibly gentle, loving, and passionate side of risotto. he knows how he presents himself outwardly, as cold and intimidating, but the thought of everyone seeing him as just that--or worse, seeing himself as just that--makes him feel empty and he hates it.
so be his safe haven where he can express just how damn loving he is, openly acknowledge that side of him and embrace it, love it wholeheartedly, and let him know that you know he keeps you safe in turn not just with his ferocity, but his softness. he'll be so full of love he'll wonder how he ever could have felt empty.
he'll want to make love face to face, looking into each other's eyes, kissing soft and deep, and just absolutely basking in how you make each other feel. he'll want to take his time to feel every single inch of you and leave nothing untouched. he could do this for hours and hours, all day really, and he's almost achingly gentle. do the same for him, feel and love his whole self, let him know that he is precious and deserves to be treated with care; his expression will go so soft (and he is more expressive like this). the way he makes his partner cum isn't just physical, it's euphoria and love felt in every way and he'll want to carry them there as many times as they want because he just wants to make them feel as loved as they make him feel
he's just quiet by nature so he still doesn't say much, he'd rather express himself in other ways and you're connecting so deeply that you hardly need words (depeche mode enjoy the silence plays tenderly in the distance) and he loves that, he loves that intimacy. but he will, as least once, maybe while you're getting him close, whisper an i love you.
you also get him smiling with his cute dimples, because of course you do. and tell him genuinely that he's cute; he doesn't hear it often, and it makes him feel loved. he'll be head over heels.
he'll hold you very close for a long time after, just being with you. he'll stroke your back and feel your heartbeat against his, there's something so beautiful and intimate about it. you make him so happy. he's really warm too, perfect for snuggling!!!!
prosciutto 🚬
his caring nature always comes out at least at some point during sex, but especially when you make love. the tricky part for him is letting himself be cared for, too. he gets a bit nervous about it in all honesty, and that's less about guarding himself and more about guarding everyone else.
help him see there's nothing to worry about. you know you're safe and loved with him always, that doesn't change when he allows himself to be cared for, and in fact brings a whole new level of emotional safety to the table when you connect like that. remind him in no uncertain way that he deserves it, too. remind him that he's human, and show that you want to feel human with him in any way he'll share with you. and of course, he wants that with you. he trusts you completely, and once it really clicks that it's a matter of trust too, it's much easier for him to settle into.
there's something so special and unique about the connection you two make when he lets his walls down in that way. he never could have imagined how amazing it is to let go with you, it's nothing he's ever felt before and he can't get enough of it.
he loves to give, he gives wholeheartedly and unabashedly, and he'll receive your love without hesitation too
the forehead touch. always the forehead touch. it's his way of connecting and showing affection. he may also nudge your noses together and close his eyes to just soak in your presence. if you initiate it, he'll melt.
he embraces imperfection with you and it feels so damn good. he'll get a bit more vocal--not necessarily louder, but breathy whines and whimpers and soft moans. he may get playful too, give sweet little laughs about how you're making him sound and kissing the tip of your nose. you get real smiles out of him with that adorable tooth gap. tell him it's adorable and kiss his cheeks, and he'll laugh again and smile wide and genuinely in that way that ur eyes close too cause ur just so happy u kno
he feels so, so fucking loved and it's so beautiful to him. he tells you as much when you're laying there afterwards and he's admiring every inch of you, every mark, blemish or scar, everything that isn't exactly even, admiring your beautiful soul. and he basks as you do the same for him. he'll thank you for sharing this little piece of humanity with him.
pesci 🎣
soft sex is his favourite. sex as a way of feeling close with the person he loves is what vibes with him the most, as an act of emotion and of loving and being loved in return.
it's a lot easier for him to be confident with that kind of sex/perspective on sex, because he knows he can just tap into his emotions and those of his partner. he really shines here, and he may still get a bit flustered because it's sex and sex with you and you're so fucking gorgeous in every imaginable way, but you still get to see this whole other side of him where he's just so comfortable in his skin and it's both really hot and really endearing.
he stops sort of separating or thinking too hard on just the physical or the mental or anything else, and expresses his love on all levels of being in a way that just lights you both up. he thinks being with you in this way is heaven on earth and he will let you know it.
he can make love with you like this anywhere soft and quiet and private, but aside from your bed, he loves the bath. he loves bath sex in general for the warmth and wetness and intimacy, and especially when you're connecting in this way, it's like.... he wouldn't consider himself to be poetic or particularly spiritual, but there's just something special about making love in water, maybe because we're all born from water, we all need water to live, all life on earth came first from the water. it's just something he thinks about.
he'll want to be face to face; he loves watching your face because seeing you in pleasure is so beautiful to him, he'll want to see your eyes flutter closed and open and commit the look you give him to memory, soft and sort of honeyed-hazy y'know but bright because you love him, and you're loved by him, and he can see it in you. he'll want to hold hands too, and twine your fingers together.
words come a lot easier to him like this too, because he knows there's nothing to hide and nothing to worry about, so he'll just murmur throughout about how much he loves you, how good you make him feel in every way, how he wants to make you feel like that too. show him that he does; he'll kiss you so softly and with so much love that he feels like he could burst.
he's just so soft and gentle in every way. he'll want to still just hold your hand for a long time afterwards.
formaggio 🧀
he's very emotionally in tune, that connection u create with a partner no matter how casual is a huge part of his enjoyment of sex, so he absolutely loves taking all the time in the world to just feel each other in every way and be so emotionally close with you
he often likes to feel like a big macho guy taking care of his babe but he loves being taken care of too because he can experience another side of your connection (and it's just nice!!!!), so when he really makes love with his partner he can feel sort of both at the same time and he loves it. he just feels so entwined with you.
he's still playful, it's in his nature. but when y'all get really tendie he'll be especially gentle with how he plays around. he'll tweak your nose and kiss your neck to hear you giggle, he just loves to make his partner laugh and he's laughing and smiling too
he also still talks a lot, he murmurs about how much he loves you and how incredible you are, how you make him feel amazing in every way, he'll list off all the little things he notices about you that he's just so fond of. he doesn't tease as much, he just grounds himself in the moment with you. it's also really hot and sweet to hear his words trail off with little laughs or sighs or soft moans.
he also has a lot of cute pet names for his partner, and he does still use them but when you get really soft like this he'll often just murmur or moan your name more than anything and there's something so intimate about it
overall you'll see an even more genuine side of formaggio (and he's already a pretty down to earth dude) because he really just feels most at ease when he's surrounded by love
he'll snuggle and kiss you and lay around for a long time afterwards, play with your hair, stroke your back, talk about everything and nothing and how much he loves you. his wandering hands may lead to more lovemaking; he just can't get enough of you.
illuso ✨
it takes a lot for illuso to open up like that. he's extremely guarded with his emotions. he very much desires softness, and there's something about being bare (more than just physically) that really draws him in, but he'd need a lot of trust to get there.
and it's not just him trusting you that's part of the equation either; he isn't used to being trusted. show him honestly that you trust him, and treat every glimpse of genuineness from him with love, and it'll go right to his heart. he's unused to being really seen, so if you see who he is and choose to openly share your heart with him, he'll be smitten.
ask him to just be with you, and he will, he'd love nothing more. reassure him that he doesn't have to think so much; you can both just let go and feel. you'll see a side of illuso where he's just in awe and a really pure sort of wonder of what you create together, this little moment in time and space, this experience across all states of being.
you absolutely make love in the mirror world. it's illuso's safe haven, and he wants it to be yours as well, it's an entire world where there's no one and nothing but the two of you and the love you make and that's so special to him. he'll want to take his time, and with no possible interruptions, he can. you spend hours together; he goes very slow and very gentle. he just wants you to know how precious you are to him, and how much he wants to be with you.
you'll explore every single inch of each other. he'll kiss you absolutely everywhere, and not just in the obvious places; he'll kiss your palms, your fingers, your closed eyelids, every mark on your skin. when he kisses your lips, it ranges everywhere from a mere brush to open-mouthed, deep, and languid. treat him with the same slow, thorough care, and he'll melt.
he doesn't tease. he'll probably be pretty quiet, but once he whispers that he loves you, he'll find himself just telling you all his inner thoughts, everything he loves about you and everything you make him feel: truly beautiful in a way he'd hardly experienced before, safe, so genuinely loved. if you express the same to him, that you feel his love for you in every little way he shows it and cares, that you see and feel his whole self and love him in his entirety, that he makes you feel precious, he will feel precious too. he may actually cry a bit. he's just so happy with you.
he's the kind of guy who likes to watch everything, but he's not sure what to do now: see the love in your eyes or close his eyes to bask in it. he opts to just go with the flow of the moment. he's completely open and unguarded, his hair is loose (if you run your fingers through it he'll sigh sweetly), he'll give you these genuine smiles, you'll get real little laughs out of him, and every sound he makes (including the way he murmurs your name) is so soft.
he can't stop smiling after, he'll hold you and play with your hair, and eventually draw a nice bath for you to share
melone 🍈
he absolutely loves soft, emotional sex. of course he likes being kinky and stuff too, but human sexuality as a whole is so fascinating to him, sex is such a beautiful experience in his eyes and he's very eager to explore different expressions of it. it's really interesting to him how you can define making love as something different than fucking when it's all still sex.
he loves the connection it brings. it's such a deep, personal way to feel close with someone and he wants that with you, he wants to explore each other in every way. he loves to learn new things about his partner and finds it so intimate when they learn about him too, whether it's something you've always done that he's just putting his finger on or it's a new development, like the particular way you roll your hips or how your eyes squeeze shut when you cum. point out a subtle habit of his too, like how his breath stutters when you do something he really likes; it makes him feel cared for. but even if there's nothing new to notice, he loves the comfort of your familiarity, too.
he's very open with it, you don't have to wonder what he's thinking about. he'll be murmuring softly about your beauty, how much he cherishes you, how you make him feel cherished too, how good you're making him feel. he wants to know if he's making you feel good, too. tell him so--better yet, show him--and let him know that you feel his love for you, that you feel cared for and safe. he'll smile and give you a long, sweet kiss. tell him anything and everything you're thinking of, he wants to know you in mind, body and soul.
and he is spiritually open and explorative and it fascinates him to think of sex as an act of creation, and even if it isn't sex to make new life it's making love, it's making a bond, and that's a special sort of creation too. he loves to create with you. he understands how it could be viewed as sort of divine.
he loves to care for you, and being cared for in turn makes him putty. knowing that he's truly loved is one of the best feelings ever and it really just makes him wanna cover your face in kisses tbh. which he does, and he laughs hearing you laugh cause you bring him joy.
he's also still loud when he cums but that doesn't make it any less soft and tender tbh because he's just wholeheartedly falling into the bliss you give him, he'll cry out your name and how much he loves you between moans.
he'll want to do this all day if that's what you want too. eventually when you're done, he'll cuddle you, kiss you, and still murmur all his thoughts to you while you both trace patterns in each other's skin.
ghiaccio ❄️
he gets really flustered about soft, emotional sex at first. not just because he's being vulnerable with you, but you're being vulnerable with him, and it's you, and he cares about you so much.
part of him is almost kind of worried he'll never be gentle enough. help him see that's not true, because he absolutely is gentle with you; he knows he can be brash which is why he's always so careful with you, especially in softer moments. you also love him for who he is, in his entirety, and that makes his heart glow. you trust him, and he trusts you.
ghiaccio is passionate, and he can still express that fire in him softly and tenderly. he'll hold your face in both hands while he kisses you, and while he doesn't necessarily kiss hard, he's thorough, and it mellows out into something very soft and subtle before he pulls away. his pace is slowed a lot, because he wants to just feel you in every way; he really relaxes into the rhythm of something slow and gentle, but still passionate, holding your gaze with his hands never leaving your body. thinking of sex as a way to express your love for each other, he can't help but slow down and be soft, cause it's you.
he also can't help but make noise, soft as it may be, and say your name. he doesn't half ass important things, and you're so, so important to him, so he just completely wraps himself in your love and does the same for you. express that, with him, you know you're loved and safe; he'll want to kiss you again and again and again until you're both breathless.
may not talk as much, because soft words don't really come easily to him and he's sort of self-conscious about it, but once he gets really into it and he does start talking he doesn't stop: he'll say how much he loves you and how badly he just wants to show that to you, how you're so hot and gorgeous and loving, and he doesn't really think of them as flowery words because they're just truth, and his penchant for honesty is such a wonderful way to know you're loved
ghiaccio honey why on earth were u worried about not being gentle. after he's cum once or twice and he's gotten some energy out he is so, so gentle, he'll take care of you so tenderly and kiss you softly. he just wants to be close with you.
his cuddly side always comes out after sex and he'll be no different now. he'll press you against him and hook his chin over your shoulder and tangle your legs together, his cuddles are the best. you definitely get him smiling too, cause you make him happy.
sorbet and gelato 🔪🍦
they're both fucking crazy in nearly all aspects of life and that includes sex, but they're also very passionate and very in love with each other and with you; they're no strangers to tender, emotional sex and they love it because it's such a wonderful way to be so deeply close.
they have no problems being bare and open with you. they're so in their feelings all the time that it feels really natural; they'll very openly express how much they love you, all the ways they love you, how deep and powerful that love feels that they just want to surround all of you in it.
gelato is more talkative in that sense, he'll spill all his feelings in between kisses with his hands on either side of your face. sorbet will give you a long, slow, deep kiss, meet your eyes, and place your hand over his heart while your foreheads touch. you just know.
you're all tracing every inch of each other while you make love, they want to know everything because they just can't get enough of you, the entire world is the three of you. they're absolutely basking in your attention, too; kiss every scar and let them know how beautiful they are to you, that you see them and you love them, that they have your heart as much as you have theirs. they'll melt.
you're safe with them. let them know that you feel how deeply they love you and you feel their safety, and that they're safe with you too, that they're precious. having you and each other as their safe havens and being taken care of makes them feel so damn much.
they'll both still get very playful, they can never take anything too seriously and they just love you so much, they want you all to have fun together. gelato will absolutely do that thing where he kisses down ur front like he's gonna go down on u and then blow a raspberry on your tummy to make you squeak (but then he does still go down on you and doesn't break eye contact the whole time so you can see how fucking much he loves you and wants to make you feel good). if you're ticklish, sorbet will definitely sneakily tickle you, or do something really good while you're in the middle of murmuring something to hear you devolve into moans. then he'll press his loving smirk against your skin. they wanna get you both laughing and moaning, it's the best sound in the world to them, and they'll be right there with you.
gelato is still loud when he laughs and when he cums but it's so sweet and charming because that's just who he is and he's absolutely embracing how you both make him feel. sorbet is the quieter one, but he'll hum and sigh and murmur your names because he loves how they feel in his mouth. he will also whisper to both of you that he loves you because he just wants to say it in every way.
they can go all day and they'll absolutely want to. if one of you needs a break, you'll just watch the other two and kiss them and hold them, the way you all love each other is so beautiful to them. when you're all well and truly done, you'll be tangled in a heap (they are always very cuddly) and they'll both be smiling as they just lazily caress and kiss you and each other.
#THIS WAS SO SWEET AND I HAD SO MUCH FUN THANK U FOR THE ASK 😭❤️#la squadra#la squadra x reader#not safe fw#risotto nero#prosciutto#pesci#formaggio#illuso#melone#ghiaccio#sorbet#gelato#vento aureo#ask
207 notes
·
View notes
Note
hi nat!! i noticed requests were open and remembered “randomlyncrying during/after sex” angst being mentioned and i just👀😳🙏
ive had personal experience with that (mostly bc being vulnerable and intimate is scary yet cathartic for me, its not even necessarily sad crying or happy crying its just Strong Emotions) and i was wondering if u could do some like smut to hurt/comfort kinda with that specific scenario please🤭 maybe with risotto or abba bc i just want to be fucked AND comforted by a big strong goth man!!😩🙏
overwhelming - risotto x reader (2k)
warnings: crying during sex. afab reader. neutral pronouns.
Everything about Risotto is overwhelming. The way he looks at you; the colours of his eyes. The low, gravel voice – the way he speaks only when he thinks he has something worth hearing. The touch of his hot, large hands on your skin – his width, his height, the knowledge of what he could do to you--
It’s even more overwhelming when you are beneath him in bed.
His body caging yours; the scarred, muscled chest and how it seems to heave in and out as he breathes. The scent of him – leather and iron and smoke – wrapping all around you, until he is everywhere. In your nose, in your mouth, his face flashing across your head as you pull him down into another kiss and he worries at your bottom lip, insistent and hot and needy.
Big hands run all over your form; taking his time to enjoy the way you feel, the curves and divots of your figure, the softness of you beneath his own calloused, work-weary hands. You feel like you fit into his grip perfectly – like you were made for him. You inhale sharply as his hands spread your legs apart, exposing the heated, slick valley of your sex to the warm air of the bedroom.
It always seems to be warm when Risotto is around. He kicks out heat merely by existing; and you cling to him in bed for it, grateful to be reminded of his presence.
“You’re so beautiful,” he dips his head to murmur, his voice deep and dark. Whenever he speaks, you feel a rush of desire go through you to pool at the apex of your thighs; there is something about the sonorous bass of his voice that makes your toes curl and that echoes through you, making you feel as though you are the only person in the world. “Look at yourself, tesoro.”
You do not see what he sees – but you do see the worship in his eyes. The hunger as he presses your legs further apart and leans into you, as you feel his hard cock press against your thigh insistently.
He is a careful man, despite his profession, and he knows that what he has between his thighs is too much for many people. He never sheaths himself inside of you straight away; even now, when you are fair pooling slick on his already messy sheets, one of his big hands is cupping your mound.
Calloused thumb rubbing over your clit, coaxing heat and sighs and little rocks of your hips. One large, lone finger – sliding inside of you, rubbing against your walls with the practise of a man who knows your body as intimately as he knows his own. Your head rolls back and you display your neck for him; vulnerable, and needy, and utterly his. He does not leave your neck unmarked – his lips are on you in moments, sucking love-bites, nipping bruises, his finger still pumping in and out of you.
Two fingers. You tangle your own grip into his silvery pale hair and pull his mouth to yours so that you may kiss him – he tastes like iron, always. You do not find it unpleasant; blood is a taste that you have grown to appreciate, because it reminds you of him. Three fingers, and you hear the wet squelch of your arousal, feel it dripping out of you with every rock of his hand. His thumb has stopped teasing your clit, but the rough heel of his hand is now continuing the onslaught of pleasure. With every thrust, it rubs against the swollen bud, and you feel your stomach begin to tie itself in knots.
He pulls them out of you with a slick gush, the hand formerly buried inside of you coming to lift your leg so he can slot his hips in between you. His fingers are dripping wet, but he has eyes for nothing but you beneath him. Rose-red irises meet your own, as if to ask you; ‘is this alright? Do you need me to stop?’
For an assassin – for a man feared around Italy, though they do not know his name – Risotto is never anything but gentlemanly with you. He asks your permission, holds you afterwards, kisses you and soothes you and murmurs your name filled with affection even when you are around the other members of your team.
“Special treatment,” some of them huff, rolling their eyes – but they shoot you sly smirks. They do not begrudge their capo his happiness – not in such a business as theirs.
“Risotto,” you breathe, looking up at him. “Please—”
The please is enough. Your other leg is lifted gently, hitched up so he can press your knees to your chest. You’ve had to experiment with positions plenty, in order to find things that are comfortable with Risotto’s height and his size and your own limitations – but this one always makes him seem to hit you deeper, further. His cock head pushes against the tight ring of your entrance, catching on you--
And his eyes meet yours as he begins to press himself inside of you. There is so much tenderness contained within them that you are almost lost for words. You would not think that eyes like that could make you feel so utterly adored – when you had first met Risotto, they had filled you with fear. Now, though, you look at them and you see all of the things that Risotto is too afraid to say out loud, contained within their multitudes.
He’s slow as he hilts himself, letting you feel the stretch of your walls around him. He’s always slow with you – like he’s afraid you will break. People who see him out and about, you know, never imagine how careful or tender he is.
Your head tips back again, into the pillow, as you see stars. He always fills you up. It’s indescribable, how right that he feels inside of you. You feel like he was made to slot inside of you – every time this happens, you don’t feel quite right until his heavy balls slap against your sex and he has bottomed out, filled you up, and the two of you are as connected as it is possible for two human beings to be.
Your breath catches as he pulls out, as he seeks to find a rhythm that works for both of you. In this position, you cannot quite get purchase on his shoulders – but Risotto sees to that himself, his big hands entangling and entwining with your fingers to press your held hands either side of your head.
The position is intimate, his eyes staying glued to yours even as he slips into a rhythm. His face is softer than you usually see it as he looks down at you; his sculpted lips tilted at the corners in a way that makes your breath feel like it doesn’t fit properly in your lungs.
You adore him so much.
Everything about him makes you feel like you are free-falling through a summer sky. You are, you’re sure, not supposed to be so deliriously happy with anybody, when you’re in a career such as your own. You should not be allowed to love him so freely and deeply – but the world has said you are. The world has dropped Risotto Nero into your lap in all of his occasionally awkward, stoic, handsome glory.
His hips flex in and out. He slides easily, through the slick glide of your sex – stoking up hunger and need, the tight little ball of tension inside of you that signifies your release. You hear the sound of him fucking you, the slap of him bottoming out, and you lose yourself entirely in the sensation of Risotto filling you up.
The world seems to fade into nothing but the place where the two of you are joined; nothing else important, aside from Risotto inside of and above you, his breath unsteady in his chest. The heat that’s gathering low in your belly, as he chases your release along with his own--
After his earlier ministrations, it’s no wonder that yours creeps up on you faster. Your ball of tension is the first one to take too much pressure, to be unable to do anything but explode into pieces – and it does so in a great rush that has you wailing, your mouth opening, as your mind seems to blank out into nothingness at the same time as every feeling in the entire world seems to hit you all in one go.
You’re crying?
You’re sobbing.
Your shoulders are shaking, your lip wobbling, your throat so dry that you can barely gasp air as it feels as though every emotion that you have ever experienced seems to come around to visit you again, the feeling entirely overwhelming. You can’t think. You can’t breathe--
Risotto’s eyes are wide and full of concern, blood and ink gone to uneasiness that this is all his fault. Your eyes are blurry with tears, but you see him open his mouth to speak nonetheless.
“Hey, hey--” his voice is quiet, through the haze of your tears, his hips stilling inside of you. “Tesoro, amore, cara mia--”
The pet names just make your bubbling sob get worse; your breath short. You don’t know what it is! You’re not upset, you’re not angry, you’re not even so happy that you can’t help yourself.
You’re just feeling so, so, so much.
“Risotto,” you breathe out, hiccuping, and your legs are gently dropped from your chest. “Risotto, I’m--”
“Please tell me if something’s wrong,” he murmurs, low and dark. “I’ll stop, I’ll do anything--”
“N-no,” you shake your head, aware that he is still buried inside of you – that your tears are stopping him reaching his full completion. “I-it’s not that—”
He pulls out, carefully, and you miss the feel of him inside of you like a physical ache, even though he is still on top of you. He reaches down and kisses your cheeks, chasing the tears away. A half-laugh bubbles up through the heaving of your chest and the tears clogging up your throat.
“Please tell me,” he repeats, again, all concern. His hands are still entangled with yours, as he leans down and puts his face very close to yours. If you stretched forward, just a little, you could rub your noses together, and the thought makes you smile despite yourself and despite the tear-tracks still drying on your face. “Amore, I promise I won’t be angry at you--”
“It’s just-- s-so much--” You say, eventually – lost for words, because how does one explain quite why they started crying with no real reason to? It had simply felt like everything had washed over you in one go, and your heart had not been able to handle it. Something about your orgasm had pushed forth all of your feelings, whether good or bad, and they had scrambled inside of your chest until all you could do was let tears roll down your face.
“I’m here,” he says, soft and slow. He lets go of your hands. Large arms wrap around you, pulling you up so you’re pressed against the broad expanse of your chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He’s so warm. Your cheek rests against him; hard muscle and scar tissue. You can hear the beating of his heart, and in the end it’s that – steady, constant, true – that makes the tears finally stop leaking down your face. Your breath calms.
A big hand comes up to stroke through your hair, reassuring.
“I’m always here for you,” he says. “Forever. Through anything.”
“I love you,” you say, all in a rush. You two avoid it; it’s hard to deal with constants when you’re in a business like Passione. ‘I love you’ is not in the vernacular of an assassin – but neither is ‘forever’, and Risotto had said it to you as casually as breathing--
“I love you too,” Risotto says. His voice does not quaver. He is certain and sure; as strong as the arms around you, the chest you’re pressed to, as strong as his convictions always are. He means it.
And you are so, so very glad that he does.
#writing#risotto x reader#risotto nero x reader#jjba#not sfw#afab reader#neutral pronouns#risotto nero#Anonymous
359 notes
·
View notes
Text
What If We Had The Choice? | Resident Evil Village
Summary: What would have happened if Ethan had sided with Heisenberg? Unfortunately, Capcom didn't give us the chance to make a choice, so for the enthusiasts.... this would have happened if we had had been given the choice.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Ethan stepped foot inside the dark, dusty factory with a bad premonition. He kept his gun in front of him at all costs as he carefully pushed the first rusty door he encountered open and when he noticed the coast was clear, he also made his way through the badly lit hallway that had appeared from behind the heavy door. He was so close in having his daughter back that he couldn't back down... not now. Another nasty hallway followed and finally, when he took a turn to his right, he spotted an huge curtain hanging ahead of him in a square room. It seemed to hide the wall and table behind it and Ethan struggled with the thought off shoving it to the right to peak behind it or to just leave it be. With his curiosity taking over he pulled the curtain from the beam to which it was attached to and small photos appeared.
Some of them were old pictures of the lords, scratched through with a red marker, while others were pictures of the incidents that had happened around the village since Ethan had arrived there. The pictures reflected in Ethan's eyes and one stood out to him. "Mia?"
"Truth hurts, don't it?" Ethan turned with a quick motion, spotting the man Ethan had met earlier who now stepped out of the shadows directly behind him. The dark and round glasses covered the man's eyes as well as his fedora hat that slightly slanted over his left eye and the long tattered coat fluttered behind him as he took a puff of his Cuban cigar. Ash fell from his cigar as thick white smoke floated around the man's almost completely covered face. "Let me guess." The forth and strongest Lord continued after puffing his cigar once more. "You're thinking take me out like the others, and then you get to go and safe Rose, right?"
"I'm healing my daughter." Ethan bit back.
"Look, y-...you've got this all wrong-..." Lord Heisenberg signed with his hands up in the air to strengthen his words, but he then was cut off by an horrible loud sound coming from under them. "Dammit, I'm talking here!" The man whined, pinching his noise before storming his way towards the hatch to pull it open with ease. "Shut your fucking hole!"
Ethan had no idea what to except or where this conversation was going, certainly not with someone different than the other mutated humans he had met. Alcina Dimitrescu had already some hatred towards men like him, perhaps even all men in general, and was conspiring with Miranda so of course she wanted him dead from the beginning. Donna Beneviento seemed more reasonable and neutral about the situation, but was still crazy as fuck and was also still under Miranda's control. Same goes for Salvatore Moreau, except for the fact he wasn't just following and conspiring with Miranda. He saw Mother Miranda as his real mother and he was so desperate to prove his worth to the other house lords and Mother Miranda that he unfortunately also wasn't able to negotiate with.
However, Lord Heisenberg was someone different. He came across Ethan as more controlled than the other Lords despite being a bit of a direct man. "Sorry about that." The man apologised as he straightened his back. Ethan, still confused whether he had to have patient and listen to the man or take action while it was still possible, stood in the room watching the man in doubt while he snatched a chair from beside a cupboard to place it by the hatch.
"Take a seat." Heisenberg ordered and Ethan stayed in his place, not obeying his competitor. "Listen, Ethan. You're being played."
"What are you talking about? You think this is a game?" Ethan hissed through his teeth meanwhile the lord put out his Cuban cigar, pressing the burning side onto the small table. Ethan had expected some sort of answer from the mutant, but to his surprise Heisenberg aggressively tossed a knife towards the wall covered in pictures and pushed Ethan into the unsteady metal chair instead... the chair almost staggering over the edge of the big hole by all the force falling down onto it.
"I said sit!!" Heisenberg backed off a bit afterwards and continued his story. "Lady super-sized bitch..." The knife stabbed the wall as it made its way to the picture of Lady Dimitrescu. "Ugly-ass psycho doll...." The knife again marked the wall, now resting in the photo of Donna Beneviento and Angie Beneviento. "And that moronic freak." The knife made one last change in direction, the picture of Salvatore Moreau. "Don't you get it? It's a test, to see if you're strong enough... to be part of Miranda's family."
"I don't want to be part of Miranda's family."
"Neither did I! But here we are." Heisenberg raised his voice and Ethan took in a deep breath. "And I'm next in line, right? Kill me, move up the chain! Well, fuck that!!" The knife carved the wall as it was forced through the image of Mother Miranda, messing it up.
"I don't give a damn about your personal issues! I just want to fix my daughter!" The lord laughed in response.
"So do I! Do you have any idea how powerful that kid is? Even Miranda is scared of her..." For a second time there was a very loud engine sound hearable and the man deeply sighed in frustration. "Last time, you freak, I swear to god!"
Afterwards making his way to Ethan, Lord Heisenberg gave away his green and grey eyes by removing his glasses and held his chin up, the hat moving a bit upwards to reveal his full face. Scars were located all across his face and he smirked.
"You and me, Ethan! Together we go save Rose, and then we can use her to grind Miranda to paste." Heisenberg closed his fist with strength, acting like he was squeezing a bug to death. Ethan stood before a tough decision; Fight Lord Heisenberg and then hope he could safe his daughter from Mother Miranda all alone... or collude against Mother Miranda with the help of Heisenberg and save his daughter that way. He knew it was wrong to work together with someone who was once his enemy and was willing to use his daughter as a weapon, but it gave him more certainty to actually succeed and get his little girl back. Ethan stood up from his chair and swallowed before nodding.
"When do we start?"
~~~
Heisenberg had taken Ethan to his lab to explain what he'd been up to all along and both men now faced each other while sitting down onto different obsolete metal sofas. "Most of this was already put in working before I decided to show up here to save Rose?"
"This is my fucking lifework. Years I have been creating these soldats to deal with Miranda once and for all. It's time for her to die." The man passionately spoke up and pointed at the soldats hanging from a conveyor belt that ran through the factory. "So, Ethan Winters, what do you say?"
"The plan sounds good to me."
"Well then, lets get to work. See you on the other side... Ethan."
Ethan knew exactly what to do because Heisenberg had explained in detail what the plan was. Ethan was going to disturb the ceremony that was taking place so that the lord could launch a surprise attack on Miranda with his invented army. Although, before it could work, Ethan first had to stop by the Duke to restock his ammunition and healing juice. Fast traveling over the stone bridge towards the elevator in the altar, he returned to the Duke.
"Ah... Ethan Winters. I feel like this will be the last time we meet again... It was quite some news to hear you joined Lord Heisenberg's side." The duke folded his hands together, somewhere deep down noticeable that he was delighted to see his loyal customer and good friend back alive.
"Yeah, well, I didn't have much of a choice, did I?"
"You had a choice, but knew that this settlement would be most effective. Now, I suppose you have to act quickly so feel free to peruse." Buying ammunition and healing juice with the last money Ethan had, the friends said their last goodbyes and carried on their separated ways. This would be it. This would be the moment where Ethan would finally get his daughter Rose back. Shoving himself through the filthy black strands know as mold, he saw the blond woman in her black and gold robe shouting for Eva, her dead daughter she lost to the Spanish flu, to be reborn. The moment Ethan wanted to fire his first shot with his M1851 Wolfsbane Magnum, there was a sharp sound audible and then loud rock music followed.
"What the-....?" Ethan cursed under his breath, not knowing what the fuck was happening, but the distractive music seemed to caught Miranda off guard and the chamber of mold crumbled down around them. It looked like Miranda had lost her focus. The distraction gave Ethan a better shot and Miranda jerked her head towards him, glaring deathly at him as he pulled the trigger. The bullet didn't do much to her, but the arena was now free from the mold and it was possible for Heisenberg to step into the destroyed area, which he did. He was still secretly jamming to the loud rock music that was playing on his speakers back in the factory and Ethan wondered what the actual limit of the volume was because it was so terribly loud, even from where they were now.
"Heisenberg! I should have known you were planning an rebellion against me. Unfortunately for the both of you, the ceremony will be complete once dawn breaks and I will become her true mother!" Miranda shouted dramatically and opened her arms widely, letting her six wings stretch out before her mutation took place. Heisenberg just scoffed and threw his Cuban cigar to the ground, stepping on it.
"I'm not letting you get away." Ethan yelled, shooting a few more times at the orange eye that was visible in the upper center of her face. It probably was her weakness. In the meantime that Ethan was busy shooting at the six winged dead looking woman, Heisenberg simply just leaned on his hammer. His head was banging to the music while he watched the scene for a moment, but that was until he forced himself to participate into the battle as well. Putting his thumb and index finger close to his mouth, he whistled as noisy as possible and immediately an army of Lycans and soldats joined him. Miranda was amazed at what was happening before her eyes, but managed to kill several soldats at once with the mold spearing them. Heisenberg groaned in frustration, understanding that his life creations perhaps weren't fully prepared for these kind of attacks coming from her.
Heisenberg sighed and closed his green, grey eyes. It was time... time for him to mutate and face Miranda together with Ethan. He had to defeat her. That was what he wished for all these years after all. Heisenberg listened to the guitar solo in the background as his mind started to control and use the metal scrap from his broken soldats to continue his mutation. Ethan couldn't be distracted by the creature Heisenberg had become and so he kept his attention strictly on Miranda, ready to hit her again. Sadly, he was out of luck. His M1851 Wolfsbane Magnum ran out of ammo and while Ethan tried to block her next attack, Heisenberg seized the opportunity to knock her to the ground before she had the change to launch herself at Ethan.
Heisenberg accelerated his actions and grabbed Miranda tightly before pressing her against one of the broken stone walls. With his other metal arm he activated his saw and wounded her body, but soon found out she could regenerate herself. Her spider legs turned into wings, bigger than before, and she hurled the flames she had summoned when Heisenberg wasn't paying attention. He was blinded and was pushed back by the blow. The lord quickly realized that his mutation was quite easy for Miranda to defeat because of the length and width of his mechanistic form and he turned back to his human form. This way he could use the metal scrap for a shield and dodge all her attacks faster.
"Ethan! Bring your ass over here!" The man growled, seeing that Ethan was laying somewhere on the floor, being completely useless, and Ethan raised to his feet... stumbling a bit, but not giving up.
"I don't have any fucking bullets left!"
"Well good luck keeping her focused on you then!" His gravelly voice yelled over the rock music for only Ethan to hear and he shook his head in confusion, though, he had no time to understand it because Miranda immediately jumped right in front of him. The lord had time to create a stairs of the floating metal with activating his abilities and he ran to the top, hoping Miranda hadn't seen this shit coming or else they both were certainly doomed. Ethan, meanwhile, was fighting off the woman and it was the perfect timing for Heisenberg to put his second plan in working. Heisenberg dropped himself from the stairs, his hammer above his head and aiming at the weakness of Mother Miranda. Hitting her, her back was blown into the floor and she screamed in agony. The combo of the shots of the M1851 Wolfsbane Magnum and the terribly heavy hammer had managed to defeat her.
"My daughter.... My Eva!" She held her arms high and went numb, her body falling apart and turning into ash.
"After an eternity.... that bitch is finally gone." Heisenberg laughed enthusiastically and turned around to face Ethan only to see him crumbling down with Rose in his arms.
"I think we finished each other...."
#karl heisenberg#house heisenberg#heisenberg factory#neil newbon#resident evil village#alcina dimitrescu#resident evil 8#re8 heisenberg#re8 village#re8#salvatore moreau#donna beneviento#angie beneviento
131 notes
·
View notes
Text
Chapter eight
Summery: Tom is part of the Firm, a fearless London gang. You knew each other as children, before everything changed. Now your paths cross again.
Pairing: Tom and female reader.
Themes: Mob!Tom, Peaky Blinders inspired, period piece – this is set in 1961, London.
Warnings: Violence, kidnapping, one hit to the head. Smut. I mean, it’s a mob!AU so generally just a lot of talking of murder, fighting and violence. THIS IS A +18 STORY.
Word count: 5k. Sorry, but this is an eventful chapter so got a bit long. I didn’t want it to end in a cliffhanger so I sort of had to go on a bit
An absolute massive thank you to @plantlungs for being an amazing editor and for having the patient of a saint and correct all my misplaced commas and confused word choices.
READ PREVIOUS CHAPTERS HERE
Recap of the story so far: Tom is part of and working himself up in the Firm; the feared London gang. Its leader is a certain Fabien Towner. After an attack on Harrison it’s clear that they have a traitor in their midst who is also working for the rival gang created by a man called Jack Flanagan. While Tom is trying to bring the attacker in for questioning he meets you; his old school love (and unfortunately for him, the daughter of the home secretary who has spent most of his career trying to put an end to organized crime). After an interesting night where you end up as a witness for a murder Tom essentially has to kidnap you until he knows what to do with you. Ending up deciding to let you live, and in doing so risking his own life, he lies to Fabien about there being no witness to the crime.
Some time later you and Tom meet again at the club Romantique, as Tom has gone there to negotiate with Jack Flanagan. You go home with Tom that night and the two of you begin an affair. Fabien, finding out about the affair and of who your father is, is delighted, thinking that he can use you as leverage to the home secretary.
Not many days later Tom is attacked by Flanagan’s gang, and he flees to your house where you patch him up. He tells you of Fabien’s plan, and asks you to work with him in order to bring the traitor in – the only thing that can possibly distract the Firm’s leader from you. You agree to help him.
***
All you have is your fire
And the place you need to reach
Don't you ever tame your demons
But always keep 'em on a leash
arsonist's lullaby - hozier
***
You wake with a kiss to your forehead. Opening your heavy eyelids, you’re met with a smile, and a pair of sparkling brown eyes.
“Morning” Tom says quietly. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed, already dressed for the day in his usual suit, hair fixed and the outlining of a gun showing underneath his suit jacket.
“Good morning,” you respond, voice soft and full of sleep. Sitting up in the soft bed and pulling the sheets around you, you lean closer towards him. Gently you place your hand on his cheek, stroking his skin you feel the faint trace of stubble. He smells of his lemon and cedar soap and faintly of cigarettes. Pressing your lips softly against his other cheek, and then on his jawline, you whisper against his skin, “Do you really have to go?”
You can tell he’s focusing on his breathing, and as you lean back his dark eyes, glossed over and pupils dilated, are focused on your lips. His own mouth is slightly opened, and he’s leaning in towards you. Just as he’s about to press his lips against yours he murmurs, “Afraid so, darling.” He leans back and winks at you, a devilish smile on his lips.
“Don’t worry, angel, I’ll give you everything you want soon enough.”He stands up and moves towards the door. “I’ll be back before you know it, just doing some collecting today; shouldn’t be more than an hour. I’ll come back and we’ll have lunch, yeah?”
He’s leaned against the doorway, hands in suit pockets, the stolen Rolex on his wrist glistening in the early morning light coming in through the window. He’s all wicked smiles and dimples and his eyes are gleaming as he looks at you; sitting in the middle of the bed, white sheets pulled around you and hair loose, your skin kissed by the sun streaming in.
You smile back at him and letting go of the sheets you let them fall around you. Leaning back against your elbows you slowly spread your bent legs; looking at him all the while. He’s got his dark eyes fixated on where your spread legs meet. Slowly walking towards you, like a hunter approaching its prey. Reaching the bed he leans over it, grabs hold of your thighs, and pulls you towards him until he’s pressed up against your naked crotch. Leaning over you, hands resting on either side of your face, he whispers in a low voice against your lips, “Such a devious little temptress, aren’t you?”
He leans back and falls down on his knees. Kissing the soft inside of your thigh he bites the sensitive skin, leaving a wet and burning spot, he blows cold air on it and you shiver. He looks up at you, wicked smile in place and eyes sparkling with pleasure. “You could tempt a saint you know?” he says, voice thick with bewildered wonder as he presses his soft lips against your cunt, before licking up your slit, eagerly. “How’s a poor devil like me supposed to stand a chance?”
***
There’s a flickering light above your head and the hallway smells of something rotten. The dark medallion wallpaper and crimson-coloured carpet make it feel like the room is spinning slightly around you.
You’re just about to carefully lock the door to Tom’s apartment, having decided to go home and change before lunch, when you hear a creaking on the floor behind you. Something like alarm bells go off in your head, and you turn around only to be hit with something heavy and sharp right by your mouth.
A ringing in your ear, and the whole room seems to change perspective, turn on its side somehow. It takes you a second to realize that it isn’t the room that has fallen; it is you. Something above you moves, but you can’t see clearly, just the outlines of a blurred shadow coming closer and closer and a smell you can’t place but is stronger than the rotten smell of the hallway. And then a wet cloth covers your mouth.
Memories of when you were a child, swimming in the municipal pool, flash before your eyes and you can’t understand why.
Only, just before everything turns dark, does it hit you.
Chloroform.
***
The first thing your mind registers as you wake is a sore neck. A sore neck and a stinging nose and a back that feels uncomfortably stiff. You try to open your eyes but find the world just as dark as when you had them closed. Trying to move your hands you realize that they have been tied behind the uncomfortable chair you’ve been placed in.
Panic rises like bile in your throat and you want to scream, but the sound refuses to leave your lips, as if the panic itself is blocking it from leaving. Trying to kick your legs you realize that they too have been bound.
“She’s awake,” someone mutters behind you and you freeze, heart beating so hard in your chest that it’s hard to hear anything but the blood rushing through your system. “Go tell Jack,” the voice orders, and a pair of heavy footsteps move across the floor and soon a door opens and shuts.
Laying all your focus on your breathing, trying not to hyperventilate, you try to keep in control of yourself, though you can feel sweat begin to form on your forehead. You feel hyper- aware of your own body, of the rope digging into the fragile skin of your wrists, of the hard chair underneath you, of your own mortality and the dangerous situation you are in. You had been in a situation like this before, in a now very familiar apartment in Mile’s End. But even though you had been frightened then, it is nothing compared to the terror that grips hold of you now.
Soon a door opens, and footsteps move across the floor again.
“Now boys, is this the way you treat a lady?” A deep voice roars in an Irish brogue. “Have I taught you no manners?” The footsteps move closer and closer until they’re standing behind you.
“You big lads so scared of a girl you need to tie her up?” You hear how the man fiddles with something, only to realise that he’s untying the rope around your legs. Soon you feel the rope loose; but you are too frightened to even try to move them out of their uncomfortable position.
“Now unless you think this tied- up wench will overpower me, I suggest you get a fucking move on, yeah?” the man continues, as he frees your wrists as well.
No verbal answer follows, just the sound of a dozen of boots moving across the floor until eventually, the door shuts; leaving the room in silence apart from your ragged breaths and rabbit heart; pounding so hard in your chest you’re sure it’s clear for anyone to hear.
Then there’s a sudden movement by your head and then – you can see again.
Disoriented you blink into the light. The man, Jack you presume, pulls a chair across the floor, the scraping noise almost alarmingly loud to your panicked senses, and he sits down opposite you. Carefully you move your stiff hands from their position behind your back, slowly moving them to your front and placing them on your knees.
“There we go,” Jack says in a low, gruff voice that tells of years of smoking.
He’s probably in his early fifties, with blond hair that has begun to turn white and a neatly trimmed beard. A long scar is etched across his cheek. Wearing a rather worn grey suit he’s leaned back in his chair, looking relaxed and comfortable; the very opposite to how you are feeling. There’s something both harmless and, at the same time, absolutely terrifying about him. He’s almost disarming in his lack of threats, his slow, low way of talking and the patient, curious way he’s looking at you. You can’t get a read of the man, and that frightens you.
The room you’re in doesn’t help to make you feel more comfortable. It looks like an abandoned old apartment, wallpapers half torn down and a broken chandelier hanging from the ceiling. It’s dark outside the dirty window, and you wonder for how long you’ve been unconscious. An entire day must have passed since this morning.
“Now girl, you and I are gonna have a little chat about an old friend of mine,” he starts.
You don’t respond, waiting for him to reveal his hand before you make up your mind about how to play your cards with this unknown man.
“Now, child,” he continues, “what do you know of Fabien Towner?”
You’re taken aback at that. Somehow, subconsciously, you must have assumed that this kidnapping by this evident gangster had something to do with your father and his work as home secretary. That you had been picked out to provide information about a man you had never as much as laid eyes on had not occurred to you.
“All I know is what’s written in the newspapers.” You answer, only somewhat truthfully, since Tom has told you a few things about the feared London mobster as well.
“Sweetheart,” he chuckles, a deep, throaty sound, “do I look like the sort of man who reads the papers?” He’s smiling at you, though it seems malignant. You are reminded of a cat, playing with its food before it eats it. “I know better than to believe a word that's written in them,” he adds and grins, “after all, they write that I’m a bad man.”
“But alright then, let’s play that game,” he snaps, and the sudden change from almost playful to deadly serious has your heart faltering in your chest. “What do you know of a young mister Tom Holland, hm?”
If your heart was faltering in your chest before, it positively stops beating now. Your first instinct is to deny your knowledge of Tom’s existence. To say you’ve never heard that name. But you must keep your head cold, be calm and clever. This man knows very well that you know who Tom is, you were after all attacked when leaving his apartment.
“Not much,” you say, and your voice is frailer than you’d hoped. “He’s just a man I’ve been seeing”.
Jack’s hard, blue eyes are fixed on yours. He observes you for a while before saying, “You seemed very cozy with him at Romantique. I’m the owner of that club, I damn well know who frequents it, and what they get up to in it.”
It hits you then, and you want to groan at how slow you’ve been. This is Jack, the Jack Flanagan, the owner of club Romantique and Fabien’s sworn enemy, who has infiltrated the Firm with a traitor.
“Yes, I met Tom there, but I don’t know anything about Fabien Towner.”
Jack keeps his intense eyes fixed on you, as if he’s trying to read any slight change in your face. He scratches the roughened skin of his scarred cheek almost absentmindedly. “Come on now, I know how young men work when they’re trying to impress a pretty girl. They boast about how big and bad and ballsy they are. He’s told you about his,” and there’s a slight pause and a wicked grin before he continues, “profession, I presume?”
“All I know is he’s part of the Firm,” you say and sniff, “do you think he’d tell me anything? I’m just some girl he fucks. I don’t think he cares at all about me.” Your voice breaks as you speak, and two tears fall down your cheeks as you lie. They aren’t hard to fabricate in your current state of mind. You need to make him believe that Tom would never spill any secrets to you, because if this man in front of you,; his entire aura shouting of danger, finds any hint of the secrets stuck in your throat he’s bound to beat them out of you.
“Now that’s not a very nice thing to do,” Jack says in a low voice, and a smile spreads over his lips. “How would you like some revenge?”
Fear holds such a hard grip on your heart then that you are sure it’s bound to stop beating altogether. “What do you mean?” you ask, trying to hide your terror.
Jack smiles even wider, and something like a shiver moves up your spine. “You see,” he starts in his broad brogue, “old Fabien is not a man of many weaknesses. He’s a, well, I guess you can say a friend of mine. I know him well. I know what makes him tick.” He leans forward, resting his arms on his widespread legs, his intense eyes still fixed on yours. “Now I want him to stop ticking.”
Trying to swallow down the panic you answer in a cool voice, “and how could I possibly help with that?”
“Like I said, Fabien is not a man of many weaknesses. But he’s got a blind spot when it comes to that lad. I’ve heard the rumours; the Devil’s Boy, that’s what they call him, and that’s the way Fabien sees him. I’ve met Tom, on the night you danced with him in my nightclub in fact. And he's brought up by the devil alright,” he pauses, a grim smile on his face. “In order to get to Fabien, I need to get to the boy. And that’s where you come in, miss. See, Tom is Fabien’s weakness, so I’m gonna need you to become Tom’s weakness.”
“And how do you expect me to achieve that?” you ask, voice shaking slightly despite all your efforts to keep it under control. You feel like you’re trembling all over, like your very soul is rattling inside of you. Nothing seems real, nothing in this nightmarish scenario or in this strange room; nothing except for those bleak, intense eyes looking at you, and that low, gruff voice speaking of betrayal of the worst kind.
“You’re a pretty little thing, aren’t you? Like a little bird. I’m sure you could convince him to stick around, to open up; to trust you. Then all this little bird needs to do is fly to me and sing her song, and I shall see to the rest, and you will have your revenge.”
You feel ice-cold all over, as if the blood itself in your veins have frozen. “And what kind of song does the bird sing? What is it that you need to know from me?”
“For now, I just need you to make him trust you. When the time is right, when everything is ready to be set in motion, I shall tell you the plan. What do you say?”
You don’t know if he’s honestly offering you a choice or not, if he’d even let you live if you refused him, but slowly you nod your head, and the smile grows bigger on his face, and his cold, blue eyes sparkle.
“Good,” he says, and rises from his chair. “Now it’s time for this little bird to be set free.”
***
Your legs feel unsteady and unsure underneath you as you make your way up the familiar steps to your house. You can hear the car that dropped you off drive away, but you don’t look back, you don’t ever want to look back again but it feels like you will spend the rest of your life looking over your shoulder after this. You feel heavy all over, every limb slowly moving forward underneath the weight, burdened with a terrible secret.
Letting yourself in, you quietly make your way through the hall, wanting to avoid seeing anyone since that would mean you’d have to explain your split lip and your sore wrists. The skin of your lip pulses uncomfortably. You must have attained the injury this morning as you got attacked outside of Tom’s apartment.
With quiet feet you move up the stairs to your bedroom, needing only to change your clothes and leave a message for your father to let him know you will be sleeping at a friend’s house for a night or two. You jot the message down in spidery letters, so unlike your normally neat handwriting; your hands refusing to collaborate with you as they keep shaking. You leave the message on your desk, knowing that Mason will find it later and pass the information on to your father.
You fill the bathtub with water and scented oil, needing to wash the reminders of today off of you before you are ready to face Tom. Quickly ridding yourself out of your dirty dress, you step into the lukewarm water and start the process of scrubbing your skin clean. After having washed up, you change into another dress, feeling great relief in feeling the freshly washed fabric against your skin.
Looking at yourself in the mirror you cannot help but be taken aback at the sight. You have a split and swollen lip, your hair is a mess and your eyes seem bigger than normal; as if you are a frightened animal. Knowing there is nothing to do about the lip you try to smooth your hair, before giving up, deciding instead to pin it up into something a little more respectable.
In your new dress and hair, you look a little more put together, though your eyes remain frightened.
Packing a small bag with some essential clothes and hygiene products you creep out of the bedroom, closing the door quietly behind you. Your father’s voice booms out from the library, as he’s speaking on the telephone with someone. Passing the door on your tiptoes, as not to make a sound, a name caught your attention.
“Yes, Fabien’s boy.”
You stop dead in your tracks, listening carefully as your father goes on. “He’s been causing uproar in all the underworld. He set fire to a pub in Camden this afternoon, one of Flanagan’s places, and he’s been involved in a dozen fights all over the East End.”
Your breath hitches, but you force yourself to be quiet as your father keeps talking. “No, apparently he’s looking for some woman. A kidnapping they say.” Your father listens as the voice on the other side of the phone speaks before he keeps going. “Yes, of course, but if this means we have another gang war on our hands there needs to be readjustments.
You walk away, as quickly and quietly as you can, and step back out into the night. Never have you been in such a hurry to find a taxi in your life.
***
After having paid the driver, you rush up to Tom’s apartment, all four stairs, never slowing for a moment. You’re not sure of what you’re about to meet in the apartment but as you push the door open and rush inside you are relieved to see the figure of a man standing there.
Only to soon realise that it is not Tom.
The man is blond, and about the same age as Tom and dressed much the same in a dark suit. One of his arms is wrapped up in bandages. You recognize him as the man who came to pick Tom up the morning after you spent your first night at his place. A friend then, and not a foe.
He stands up from the sofa when he sees you, and smiles, seemingly relieved. “Thank fuck,” he mutters, moving closer. Standing in front of you, impressive in his length and stature, he observes your wounded face with a frown.
“Any other injuries?” He asks, voice collected but underneath his calm stature, you think you can sense a wave of anger.
You shake your head, unsure of what to say.
He nods, takes a gentle hand on your arm and leads your numb body to the sofa, gesturing for you to sit down. After you have done so he moves across the floor to the phone, his long legs taking wide strides. Dialing in a number he stands there, leaning against the wall, still observing you as he waits for the number to go through.
“Yeah, Harry? It’s Haz,” he says into the phone. “She’s here.”
There’s a loud voice on the other end of the line but you can’t make out what it is saying. “Yeah, yeah, well you need to let him know then, don’t you? Before he causes any more damage.” More silence as he listens to the other man. “No, apart from a split lip she’s unharmed,” and he looks over you again as he speaks, “she looks pretty fucking shaken though so get a fucking move on, yeah?” He hangs up.
In your wild haze of suffocating numbness, it strikes you how unlike Tom this Haz is, despite your first confusion. His accent is polished and posh despite his attempts to hide it. His back is almost impossibly straight as he’s holding himself upright and his young face looks taut. You wonder how a young man like this ended up within the ranks of the Firm.
He crouches down in front of you as you sit on the sofa, his knees bent until you are at eye level. “Have you had anything to eat?” He asks in a soft voice that takes you with surprise.
“No,” you mumble, only realizing now that it’s the case. But you’ve been so full of terror the entire day you’ve hardly even noticed. Haz has a frown on his face and a worried look in his eyes as he scans you over.
“Alright,” he sighs and gets up, moving across the room to the kitchen. You keep your eyes ahead, fixated on faded wallpaper in front of you, as you hear clattering and muttered swears coming from the kitchen.
Some while later Haz is back, a plate of sandwiches in one hand and a steaming mug of tea in the other. “Sorry,” he says, placing it down on the table in front of you, “fucker hasn’t got any milk.”
You tell him you don’t mind, and thank him for his kindness, before tucking in. Only after having nearly devoured the first sandwich do you fully realize how hungry you’ve been. Haz sits down on the worn leather armchair, leaned forward and resting his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped in his lap. It is as if he’s ready to jump into action on the first sign of danger. He watches as you eat.
“Hungry, ey?” He asks with a smile, as you swallow the last of your sandwich, reaching for the tea.
“Famished,” you confess.
For a few moments everything is silent in the darkened room, only lit up by the dim light coming from the kitchen. Outside you hear a car drive by.
“How did he know of the abduction?” You ask in the end.
Haz’s mouth tightens into a grimace, as if remembering something unpleasant. “The landlady saw as they carried you out to the car. She recognized you as Tom’s girl and let him know as soon as he came back.”
“How did he take it?” you ask, with reluctance.
Haz looks away from you, avoids your eyes; the frown on his face growing deeper. “Let’s just say the boy’s got a talent for destruction when he puts his mind to it.”
“Where is he now?”
“Well, last I heard he was,” he pauses, edits himself in the search for the right word, “he was interrogating someone in Hackney, trying to find a lead of where they took you,” he sighs. And then in a bitter tone, he adds, “I would have gone with him,” another sigh, “but out of combat, unfortunately. So I was put to stay here and wait to see if you’d return. Harry was placed in the pub, much to his indignation; ever the boy of action, while Fabien made Sam and a few others go after Tom. To try and reel him in a little.”
A bang, and then Tom comes crashing through the door. Harrison is on his feet, almost before you’ve registered the sound of the door slamming against the wall, gun in hand and aiming at the man in the hall. When he sees who it is he lowers the weapon and breathes out.
Your eyes remain fixed on the man striding over to you. It’s like he’s unable to look away from you and as soon as you get within an arm's reach he pulls you towards him. With a hand carefully cupping your chin, he inspects your face, eyes glued to your split lip, a deep frown on his face.
He turns to Harrison, who just nods at him; the taut frown relaxing and a smile pulling at his lips. “Alright, that’s me done for the night.”
“Harry’s sulking at the pub if you feel like cheering him up,” Tom tells him, still holding onto you.
Harrison moves to the door, snorts loudly, and says in a voice that sounds done for, “You fucking Holland boys and your goddamn sulking.” And then he’s out, the door closing behind him.
Tom rests his forehead against yours, breathing slowly. “Hi,” he says, voice a quiet whisper. His fingers don’t stop stroking your cheek for a second. Then, “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this.” It’s a savage kind of remorse, real like a physical presence in the room. To think that on this very morning you had laid in bed, wordlessly tempting him into staying there with you for a while.
You should have stayed in that bed forever with him.
“Is it not your fault,” you tell him, knowing that it’s useless, and true enough, he shakes his head at the idea.
A deep sigh escapes him, as if he’s letting out a breath he’s been holding for a long time. You breathe him in, the familiar lemon and cedar soap; the faint trace of smoke.
“Tonight I’m going to take care of you,” he says, stroking your cheek with his long, ring- clad finger, “gonna make sure that you’re alright.” He presses his lips softly against your temple. “And tomorrow,” he continues, voice hardened steel now, “tomorrow I’m going to take care of him.”
“No,” you say softly, looking at the floor.
Dead silence wills the room for several heartbeats. Then, voice bewildered, “What?”
He’s leaning away from you, though his big hands are still covering your jawline, your throat. “You can’t go after him,” you say, taking a slow breath, staring at his shoes. Slowly you take in Tom’s appearance for the first time. When he had crashed into the apartment all your attention had been on his face, but now, now you see the state of him. The once white dress shirt he wore this morning is stained with blood and dirt and the sleeve on his jacket has a burn mark.
Tom pushes your face up to meet his eyes. Reluctantly your eyes follow. “And why can’t I do that?” he asks slowly, through gritted teeth.
“Because I’m working for him now,” you say, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. For a moment he goes completely still and before he can react you keep going. “He is going after Fabien, he wants to bring him down. He thinks you are Fabien’s weakness, so he’s hired me to become your weakness. He wants to use you against Fabien, and use me against you. I told him yes.”
Tom lets go of you, takes a step away from you, looks at you with big, wounded eyes. “What have you done?” he asks, sounding almost defeated.
“I could play this to our advantage, we could -” but he interrupts you with a roar.
“Have you lost your fucking mind? You don’t know these men! You don’t understand what they’re capable of. They’d enjoy murdering you if it comes to that. Jack Flanagan’s the sort of man that would kill over an insult, do you have any fucking idea how badly he’d take a betrayal?”
“Don’t you understand?” I am working for him now, just as the traitor does. I can find out who it is and once we know, Fabian will kill the traitor and once he is gone he can go after Jack with full force. We can play them against each other, don’t you get it?”
Tom is stunned silent for a moment, thinking over what you’ve said with a horrified expression on his face. “Does he know, does Jack know who your father is?”
You are silent for a long time, biting your lip in worry. “I don’t know. But I think so. I didn’t have to leave my name or address and they still knew where to drop me off.”
Tom looks pale. His eyes big and glossy as he looks at you, shoulders tense as he’s holding himself together. “I see,” he says, trying to remain calm, “so the two most dangerous men in London are aware of your relation to your father and are both more than capable at using that as leverage if needed.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” you whisper.
And he’s in front of you again, holding onto your face, his body pressed tightly against yours, and maybe it’s imagination, but you think you can feel the drumming of his heartbeat underneath his chest; can feel your heart drum back to the beat of his. He’s breathing hard, slowly in and out, and his strong body is rigid, every nerve tense. You know that he’s trying to calm himself down; trying to get a hold of himself and all his fear and anger. Can feel it radiating off his body in waves.
“I can do this, I can play them against each other.” You don’t know why you are whispering, except that maybe you want to make something in this whole situation gentle, in any way you know how.
“I don’t like this, angel,” he says, his voice also a whisper, as he breathes slowly through his nose. “I really fucking hate this.”
You know that the road you have begun walking is a dangerous one, no doubt full of menace and doom. But you have chosen your road. “I know,” you whisper back, “but it’s the best shot we’ve got.”
You know, as you stroke his cheek, that you would do anything for him. Because it turns out that you are made up of the kind of never yielding devotion that is bound to end in tragedy, but as you look into his sad, brown eyes, tender as they look at you, you wonder if he isn’t made of the same.
#tom holland#mob!tom#tom holland smut#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland x reader#tom holland x y/n#tom holland x you#tom holland imagine
122 notes
·
View notes
Text
montreal - roman hurt/comfort
pairing: this was written to all be platonic prinxiety, but can definitely be interpreted romantically !
warnings: unconventional self harm, non-graphic descriptions of wounds/injury
summary: a post-POF roman hurt/comfort fic in january 2021? yes <3
word count: 3.2k
notes: large portions of this were salvaged from one (1) night last summer at 4am when i was having a . time. the rest has been mainly recently written before i go to bed, with some extra bits added during my history classes B)) also shout out to [REDACTED]. u may not read this but if u do, i hope u know who u are & ilu
Virgil had been trying to calm himself down for the better part of an hour, as soon as they got back from the wedding fiasco; and he was doing a relatively okay job. Considering the circumstances, at least. Or so he thought, when he registered a spike in Thomas’s anxiety. This only served to make Virgil more anxious, because he had thought he had been doing well—until, he realized it wasn’t anxiety, not exactly, not fully—and it wasn’t coming from him.
Once he'd figured that out, it wasn't hard to trace the feeling to the imagination. He paused at the door. If this was where the strongest negative emotions were coming from, he already knew which side this was about. And could he really be surprised? Roman had wanted that callback for so long. Even at the court case, even when Roman gave Thomas his sentence, Virgil knew it killed him. And Virgil didn't do anything. Because he was so fucking scared of Thomas being bad, or of Janus winning, or something, and now whatever was going on was his fault, and--
And now was not the time for these thoughts. He breathed in. He opened the door.
Immediately, he was coughing out soot, heat burned his cheeks, his eyes blurred with protective tears forming against the smoke. It was hard to see, let alone process, what was happening. Then, he caught sight of the Dragon Witch. And he caught sight of—
“Roman!” Virgil choked on the yell, coughing again.
Obviously Roman couldn’t hear him from the distance, especially considering the brutal roar of the creature. Adrenaline kicked in, and as Virgil began to sprint towards the prince, he took in the entirety of the scene with alarm. Roman was...fighting, sure, except that Virgil had seen him fight before, and this... wasn’t right. Roman bested manticore-chimeras like it was a breeze, he HAD bested the Dragon Witch herself in every form she took, “just for training.” He always moved like he was in a ballet, not a battle, like it was more for show than challenge, and now...
Virgil watched Roman fall to a hard swish of the creature’s tail, and stay there. He almost expected the Dragon Witch to take mercy, or at least, to accept an early victory. But he watched her rear back, raise a taloned hand, the magma-red in her throat glowing brighter and brighter—just as Virgil got close enough to let fight win over flight.
Virgil crashed into Roman; they rolled just far enough that the swipe of claws only ripped the edge of Virgil’s jacket.
Immediate danger out of the way, Virgil clenched his eyes tight, trying to do it how Logan taught him. He found something that didn’t make sense--the grass. The grass was dry, therefore it should have been burning, but it wasn’t. He took that foothold to dispel all the fantastical elements of the scene, Dragon Witch and all her carnage blinking from existence. The new calm of the scene was jarring.
That just left a great big field, Virgil, and one absolute dumbass.
"What the fuck, Princey?!"
Virgil’s voice was distorted with stress, and Roman stared up at him wide-eyed, unsure—even terrified in a way that hurt. Virgil quickly pushed himself up so he wasn't pinning the other. Roman tried to copy this movement, only to groan, start coughing, and fall back again.
“Shit, I—“ Virgil looked at his hands and found red on them, looked at Roman and saw the color painting his chest. “I thought I dispelled all the imaginary stuff, why—?“
“Left brain sides can only dispel so much of what right brain sides feel,” Roman said, voice rough and thin and upsettingly casual, “Since they feel so real to me, you can’t get rid of them.”
“They feel…? Christ, ok, you need a medical kit, uhm—“ Virgil closed his eyes again; he was notoriously shitty at summoning things, and he had to concentrate for this—
“That’s ok; I’ve got it,” Roman said, letting out a quiet hiss as he propped himself up on one arm, and summoned the medical kit with the other, “You can go now.”
Virgil gaped at him in disbelief. When Roman attempted to stand up, and Virgil could no longer deny he wasn’t joking, he exclaimed, “Like Hell am I going, idiot!”
Roman just stared at him, and Virgil cursed under his breath. “Ok ok, let’s just... we should do this in the bathroom, uhm—“
Virgil awkwardly clambered over to Roman again, taking his hand, so he could blink them over together. He knew it would probably be more comfortable for Roman to sink in and out, but considering Virgil wasn’t practiced at that, he wasn’t going to risk screwing it up.
They apparated into the bathtub, and Virgil scrambled up, taking the med kit from Roman's hands.
Ok, ok, now Virgil just had to remember that one time Logan lectured them all on “Side Safety.” He took a shaky breath and washed his hands quickly, before turning back to Roman. He allowed himself to fully assess the prince this time and… Jesus. He was slumped against the back of the tub, having given up his attempts at composure while he thought Virgil wasn’t looking. His litany of scrapes, cuts, bruising, his shallow breathing, and--most of all--the wet, red patch slowly growing on his shirt, sparked renewed panic in Virgil.
“Ok, fuck, ok--let’s do this,” Virgil said, mostly to himself, as he knelt down by Roman to undo his already tattered shirt and take a wet towel to his chest. He had to suck in a breath at the sight of the jagged wound, a nauseous feeling catching up to him.
“You’ve already done a lot, you know,” Roman insisted. “You can--”
“If you tell me to go, Princey, I swear I’ll make these wounds worse myself,” he said, not meaning it in the slightest, which he would assume Roman knew--but the way Roman flinched and shut his mouth told a different story. “Shit, I didn’t mean that. Of course I didn’t mean that!”
Roman glanced away, and Virgil reached to cup his cheek, an instinct he didn’t know he had. Luckily, he caught himself in time to retract his hand. They both avoided eye contact for a second; Virgil cleared his throat; and he reached for the bottle of hydrogen peroxide before pausing. He vaguely recalled Logan mentioning how strong alcohols would only cause more harm, and they should just stick to mild soap instead. He gave the cut a longer look-over—it was certainly not a pretty sight, but probably not as bad as it looked. It was large, but not too deep. Plus, as sides, it would heal itself without needing anything like stitches or professional medical work. The past scars littering Roman’s body were proof of that. Actually--had he always had this many scars? Virgil squinted. How often did he do this?
Virgil finished cleansing and bandaging the wound to the best of his ability, with little talk beyond the occasional, soft “sorry” at Roman’s winces. When he had finished, he gave Roman his hoodie (an action the Prince was too tired to take much notice of), since summoning a new shirt seemed like a waste of whatever energy he had left.
“Ok, Princey, all done. Uhm, are you—how, how are you?” Virgil mentally kicked himself.
A small, bitter smile tugged at Roman’s lips for just a moment. He opened his mouth and then closed it, and finally shrugged. “Thank you for your help.”
It hurt, Virgil realized. Roman’s quiet voice, where near-shouting was his usual speech. His unkempt hair sticking to his forehead, where it was usually styled to be very lightly and intentionally ruffled. The bags beneath his eyes where there was usually concealer. All of it hurt.
Virgil sucked in a breath. “Look, I’m sorry if I’m being annoying, but I hope you know there’s absolutely no way I’m leaving yet.”
“Virgil,” Roman almost said it as a whine, which was closer to his usual style, so Virgil considered it progress.
“Roman,” Virgil deadpanned back.
Roman huffed. “Maybe I need space to really explore my feelings, and you’re actually being a terrible friend right now,” he argued.
“Uh-huh, well being a terrible friend is always my favorite, so,” Virgil leaned down, fumbling slightly as he picked Roman up bridal style, “We’re gonna get you to bed, and you can explore your feelings by sleeping.”
“Great, now you’re damsel-in-distressing me,” Roman said sarcastically, but he leaned his head into Virgil’s chest as he did so, which kind of ruined his point.
“Yeah, yeah. Act more like Megara next time, and maybe it’ll be different.”
•••
Roman groaned upon waking up. His whole body ached, but mainly it was focused around a sharper pain in his chest. He let his eyes flutter open, only to find Virgil staring at him from his desk.
“Ah,” Roman uttered, a jumble of memories from the past few hours returning. They felt foggy and mildly icky, but mainly the pain in them was the numb kind of pain, the tired kind. Really, it was indistinguishable from the dull ache of his bruises and cuts.
“Yeah,” Virgil said, as though he understood, even though he couldn’t possibly. “Uh, wanna talk about it?”
It was clear Virgil felt awkward asking the question. It was unclear whether that was due to his tendency to be embarrassed by everything he said, or—far more likely—that he wanted to stop babying a stupid prince, and just go about his business.
Roman sat up, suppressing a wince as best he could. “Do you want to hear about it?”
“Of course I do.” Virgil said it without an ounce of hesitation. Roman’s breath caught.
“Oh.” Roman shifted slightly over, and Virgil took a seat by him on the bed. “Okay. Uhm. I don’t know, I just—I messed up.” What else was new?
“...What did you mess up?” Virgil asked, with an inkling of suspicion, like he knew what this was about. But it wasn’t that; it wasn’t the callback—that was over and done and dead. Roman had created so many fantasies, so many crazy scenarios where they could somehow still make it in that stupid movie, and it had always filled him with hope or crushing pain or something, but as of this afternoon? He didn’t even care. It didn’t matter.
So, Roman ignored the question, and instead commented, “Janus got accepted.”
“What the fuck.”
Roman observed Virgil’s stricken expression like an unsettling kind of mirror of himself when—
My name is Janus.
“Yeah,” Roman sighed, “I didn’t take it so well either.”
Virgil looked at him for a long moment, seeming to go through several series of emotions, before he was able to ask, “...What happened?”
Roman inhaled sharply. “I was wrong about being wrong about the wedding. Patton was also wrong; Janus was right, and then Patton was right because he wasn’t a total asshole to Janus, and I’m evil; Thomas hates me; whatever, you get it.”
He thought he would break down, saying it, but he felt oddly… fine. He sat, staring at the same spot as he was before, absentmindedly annoyed at the way his bandages itched. The normalcy of the situation almost made it worse. This sucked. This wasn’t even bad.This was the worst he had ever felt.
“Oook,” Virgil said, clearly not knowing where to start, “I—you—what do you mean: Thomas hates you?”
“Thought that one was self-explanatory.”
“He can’t hate you,” Virgil said with a laughable amount of conviction. “You’re still his… y’know.. goals. Desires. Hopes. Whatever. Just because this one didn’t go… perfectly, doesn’t mean you won’t keep—“ he struggled to find the phrasing for a moment— “...fighting, uh, valiantly for Thomas’s dreams!” he attempted at the encouragement with a weak smile.
Roman just shook his head. “No. I don’t know what he wants.”
Virgil’s smile dropped into confusion. “But… you are his wants.”
“That’s kind of the problem.”
Virgil seemed at a loss, and Roman felt like an asshole. Here he was trying to help him, and Roman couldn’t even be bothered to put on a smile to dismiss him from the duty.
“Please go,” Roman attempted weakly when he couldn’t find a more convincing argument in himself. He was meant to be an actor, but he knew he couldn’t hide the fact that he wanted him to stay, of course he did, so badly. He hoped Virgil would just quit with the chivalry and go despite that.
Virgil sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Shit, I'm going about this all wrong.”
Roman knew it probably wasn’t really him Virgil was mad at, but it was hard not to shrink away anyway.
“Look, Roman—“ Virgil turned to him, looked at him seriously, took his hands in his— “To be honest? I don’t care what happened. I don’t care who was right or wrong—I mean, we all know I’ve been in the wrong more than my fair share. It doesn’t change how I feel about you.”
Roman didn’t miss the ambiguity of the end statement. “But… look, you don’t get it. When you mess up, you’re still you. You’re still...,” Roman gestured vaguely, which upset his bandages, and when he looked down at himself, he took note of the black/purple hoodie he was wearing. He melted slightly. This was exactly the point he was trying to make, “You’re still... y’know. Important.”
“Wh—? Of course you’re important, Ro. You’re creativity—“
“Thomas has two of those.”
Virgil looked at him like he was stupid. “Right, as if you’re anything like Remus.”
Roman’s lip quivered at that, and he had to look away, which was so stupid. And suddenly he felt all of the embarrassment at once—of this situation, of everything that had happened before, of the way he was about to cry, in front of Virgil, after he said that, which must look so—
“Roman?”
A hand was on his cheek, softly turning his face towards Virgil’s, though Roman still refused to meet his eyes.
Virgil cursed to himself under his breath. “Shit, this is exactly what I was trying not to say.” He sighed, and Roman hesitantly looked up at him. “Look. Even if you weren’t creativity, if you weren’t hopes or dreams or any of it—if you were a completely pointless side, which you aren’t, but if you were—I wouldn’t care. What I care about is that you’re... Roman. That you bother me until I sing Disney with you, that when you put your heart into something, you do it to a stupid amount, that you make Thomas take trashy buzzfeed soulmate quizzes when he’s stressed, and that you fucking try so hard for everything, even when I’m being a little bitch about it,” he paused. With the hand on Roman’s cheek, he traced the line of a scar down his jaw. It was one of the ones Roman usually made sure to put an illusion over, he noted offhandedly. “I care, because you’re my best friend.”
“Don’t say that,” Roman choked out. He couldn’t handle it if it was a lie, and part of him couldn’t manage hearing it as anything but exactly that. “Just—just—“
“Oh, Princey..”
Virgil held him as he broke. Roman didn’t know how long they sat like that as he let everything wash over him for a final time, let it all truly sink in at long last. He took heaving, messy sobs, no doubt ruining Virgil’s shirt in the process—he was quiet, though. He shook silently, save a couple choked breaths, in the other’s arms--that was a habit he had taught himself long ago.
When Roman had tired himself out, when all that was left was the pain in chest, (which was also suddenly duller—he was healing fast, even for a side—) he pulled back from the embrace. Virgil didn’t move by much, kept them so their fingers were laced together, as they sat staring at each other.
“Uhm. Thanks,” Roman gave a shaky smile, “You really—uh... I... I said some stupid stuff, huh?”
Virgil hesitated before he spoke, as if he knew he shouldn’t ask this right now, but needed to anyway. “...Roman, why’d you go to the Imagination?”
Roman felt ice stab at his chest upon the question. He didn’t want to do this. They had already talked about so much that he shouldn’t have gotten into; this was meant to be the part where they either parted or watched a stupid movie. And this, out of everything, was the conversation he most needed to avoid.
“Uh—I mean, to let off steam?” Roman gave a laugh as best he could. “Obviously, it didn’t go to plan—“
“Didn’t it?”
Roman’s face fell immediately. He struggled to come up with an answer, and even if he had had one, he didn’t think the sound would come out. This was enough of an answer in itself
“Shit,” Virgil breathed. Roman couldn’t help but be mildly annoyed by his surprise—clearly he had already known, he didn’t have to make it a big deal now.
“I… Princey—Roman…” Virgil looked him up and down, and Roman wanted to curl up and hide. “...how many times?”
“Not many,” Roman mumbled. Virgil must have known he was pushing the subject too far, because he just frowned and said,
“OK. I mean...it’s not OK, obviously, but you already know that, I just—“ he sighed. “Just… can you talk to me? Instead? Please? When you feel like… that.”
“Yeah, that sounds good,” Roman responded hastily, wanting an out from this topic.
Virgil gave him a look. “I’m serious. I mean—look, you don’t even have to talk about it if you don’t want. Just, come to me first, yeah?”
Roman’s face burned; he was embarrassed; he wanted to shrug this whole thing off, or roll his eyes, or maybe scream in annoyance. But the rational part of him knew Virgil was right. “OK,” he agreed softly, “...Thanks. For everything.”
Virgil looked surprised, and then flustered, and then waved off the earnest reply. “I mean, it wasn’t--I didn’t--it’s not like I did anything really--”
“You did.”
Virgil’s face softened. “Yeah, well... you’d’ve done the same for me. You... have done the same for me.”
Roman smiled gently at him. “By the way, Virge--” He hesitated. He was about to sound like a real dumbass if Virgil had only been saying this stuff for comfort’s sake. But making a fool of himself was becoming a theme for him anyway, so he continued, “You’re my best friend too.”
I love you.
In the same beats Roman thought it, Virgil squeezed his hand lightly 3 times. A breath passed between them. An understanding. That Roman couldn’t say it out loud, and Virgil wouldn’t.
Instead, Virgil fell back across the bed, bringing Roman with him in the motion. Roman let out a startled gasp and elbowed him lightly. “Hey! I’m injured, that could have been a fatal impact for me!” he whined.
Virgil snorted. “Yeah, yeah, OK. So, do you wanna watch a stupid movie, or what?”
#lucy.fic#romangst#roman sanders angst#roman hurt/comfort#prinxiety#platonic prinxiety#ts roman#ts virgil#everyone ik reading the title of this fic: ohhh my god we know u like penelope scott we know#‘we know u associate this song w roman we KNOW</3’#roman sanders#virgil sanders#sanders sides#also standard statement that im not a writer i just write sometimes pls do not. judge thishehusgs
253 notes
·
View notes
Note
(if you still feel like doing stuff for the character ask) Go ahead; unleash your thoughts of the Sharky man~
Aaaaah ty for asking about him :3333 like i think about him all the time so it’s nice to get my brain around some other characters for a bit but like. This is home base. I live here. I love to be here thinking about my shark man -^^- this got so SO long like google docs says this is 5 pages lmfao x_x I’m sorry but also :D <333333
Why I like them: Have you seen him? Have you seen him? This motherfucker’s got the loudest swag in the entire series. Bitch walks in through a cloud of settling smoke decked out with shark teeth and bitching theme music starting up and just unleashes LITERAL FIRE on Wash and Lina. HELLO???? HELLO???!? Like fuck ok maybe I love fire a lot but u can’t tell me he isn’t 100% aesthetic. The swagger. The presentation. The sheer drama of it. Yeah, sure, ok, at the end of it he still gets the shit beat out of him (and I’m very curious if the facial scarring is entirely due to burns or if the banshee + grav hammer combo to the fucking head busted his eye) but also we already knew no one but Tex can get one over on Carolina, so it was expected, right? But my god what an entrance. I can only think of a few other entrances that had that sort of impact. Epsi-Tex punching out the door and cracking her knuckles and asking “Who’s first” is a good contender but it’s still not on the same level.
(small tangent: It’s curious that Demo (who York passes the transmitter to on the roof and takes the MAC round almost literally to the face) is the one we see up and moving around at Longshore not long after the Sarcophagus heist. I always assumed that would, you know, severely injure someone, but all he does is lose an arm?? Ok king u dropped this 👑)
And then, when we meet him again, he’s cute, he’s jacked, he’s got some incredible art inked into him, he’s got an excerpt from mf’ing Sun Tzu’s the art of war. That’s an ancient Chinese treatise on military strategy. Yes, I had to look all of that up and I haven’t read the thing myself, but that tells me a few things about him: he’s smart, or at least determined to learn and study. It’s been confirmed that the characters and the excerpt are also correctly written as well. So he might be fluent enough to have read it in Chinese. He was either reading this for himself prior to the Freelancer assault, or started studying tactics and combat rhetoric afterwards to prepare for maybe someday going after them. (oh my god help i just thought about how cute he'd look in glasses aaa)
They loaded him up with so much potential and then just. … seriously. Not even fifteen minutes, look at this shit. I’m not counting the part where you can see him dead on the pavement behind Wash and Kimball because he’s fucking dead. Whatever makes him ‘Sharkface’ isn’t in that meat and steel plate homunculus anymore.
He makes a good rival for Carolina, he’s got a very solid motive for going after her and Wash. The fights are good. He’s a quick study and very adaptable, thinks on his feet, isn’t afraid to do risky shit that pays off in a big way and also looks cool as fuck. His favorite game is probably either in the Just Cause series or GTA. And I’m not gonna lie I love love love his ridiculously dramatic one-liners. I love it so much. I’m a dramatic bitch myself so I’m here for it. You know he spent his time in solitary rehearsing and refining his lines. YOU KNOW he did.
I just. He’s so cool, and he has so much potential, and honestly? I vibe with the grief. I vibe with the boiling anger barely kept under the lid. I vibe with craving revenge so deep in my bones that I’m sick with it. Like I get it, man. Not 100%, not 1:1. But I’ve been stepped on and broken without recompense or remorse by forces that don’t remember my existence. That shit will smoulder and cook you from the inside. Melts your hinges a little bit. Makes you crave the feedback of retribution jarring your bones when you land the hit.
I guess I see a lot of myself in him. And also his aesthetic fucks hard. He’s an extremely interesting, complex and underutilized character and my brain has not let go of him from day 1. He will be in my heart forever.
Why I don’t: I don’t??? Dislike??? Anything???? About him????? Stfu he’s perfect!! >:( except the being dead part, I don’t like that one bit. Dude has fucking “Redemption” tattooed across his collarbones. And you killed him instead of letting that come thru? C’mon, now.
Favorite episode (scene if movie): Considering he has just under fifteen minutes of total combined screen time INCLUDING the episode the wiki DOESNT count because you only see half of his helmet for seven seconds while Demo’s giving him orders to go knock out the Freelancers in the vault …. I feel like I’m allowed to say all of them lmao minor character stan privileges activate!
The flamethrower entrance though was just… *chefs kiss* combined with the theme music and appearing through the cloud of dust as the bassline starts up just. Ugh godddddddd its so fucking cool he’s so fucking cool I want to kiss him AND i want to be him like yknow? But most of all I’d just. Love to see an actual fucking redemption arc for him. You literally tattooed it on his chest. No I won’t shut up about this actually lmao eat my whole entire ass RT
Favorite season/movie: 13! But also I hate it because. Well. :( But also I love it because!! Sharkface character development!! Connects backstory to his appearance in the Freelancer saga and also I unironically love the Assassins Creed style flamethrowers. We get to see so much more of what he’s capable of than just wielding a standard issue flamethrower. He’s obviously extremely well versed in martial arts like Carolina is although I’m not anywhere near knowledgeable about them to distinguish styles or skill level. But they both seem very advanced to this layman here. And! I love the spray-painting scene like. It definitely establishes that he’s used to customizing his armor and weaponry like we saw with the Other Innies (Chain twins especially with their fun little guns) - perhaps they used to paint their equipment together as buddies? Then I get to wondering if it’s just something he used to do with his found family or if he’s got more artistic inclinations as well. And I have to wonder if maybe them all dying at the hands of Freelancers kind of put him off of creating for a long while if he associated equipment decor with his fambly :( Ah, and now I’ve made myself good and sad
Favorite line: 13:10, Temple of the Key. “Seems we’re looking for the same man. Bet you I find him first.” This is my favorite because of how perfectly it’s tailored to bait Carolina into following him alone; it activates her competitive mode and she takes off without the rest of them which will ultimately become her downfall. It’s likely the Counselor encouraged him to take advantage of that in her but he also seems like the sort of guy to be naturally inclined to taunting people so he’s all for it. In another world I could see them being sort of intense rivals at something like idk kickboxing or MMA but like. Goodnaturedly u know. Huge missed opportunity for Sharkface redemption + Sharklina slowburn rivalry friendship :(
OH!! I did remember another good one though. Runner-up I guess. 13:11, “Dish Best Served”: He yanks his arms out of the ice and drops to the floor, holds up a grenade in each hand. “No… this is where I get you.” The grenades explode the wall of ice and cause an avalanche, he uses his fucking flamethrowers to propel himself across the snow. Jesus. Jesus fuck dude. It’s so fucking extra. It’s so cinematic. This is your life, dude. You’re incredible. And he’s even goaded Carolina into overextending her resources against better judgement to her own detriment. That’s Sharkface one, Carolina zero. Style bonus. Enormous dick energy. God I’m so fucking in love with him.
Favorite outfit: I do like the old fashioned Season 9 shark teeth helmet. It’s a classic, it’s iconic, it’s very aesthetic, very visually aggressive, very HIM u know. Plus that red visor is very eye-catching especially with the contrast of the teeth and the bulk of the armor. But uh. I’m not gonna knock the ‘No shirt and prison jumpsuit tied around the waist’ outfit either iykwim. 👀💦💕💕💕💕
OTP: 👉👈 Shark+Locus OTP :3333 but I like the potential dynamics with a lot of other characters too. I like the snippy banter between him and Felix. Very crunchy, I like to dig into that. They make excellent frenemies with benefits. I like the notion of mortal enemies to reaching an understanding and commonality type relationship with Carolina. Maybe even Wash. I think if anyone would understand losing their family in arms to forces with no consideration for them, it would be the Freelancers. Things that are also cute: Donut + Shark. Potential for sweetness and entirely too much mischief. They’re both aesthetic-heavy although on different areas of the spectrum. Also Temple+Shark. I think if they’d ended up hunting Freelancers together that could have been something incredible. Plus, dude’s named after a Shark, he’s all shark-tatted up. I would assume he’d be happy as a halibut living in what is basically an underwater aquarium.
Brotp: In a redemption arc where he’s forcibly adopted into the Reds n Blues (Red Team Shark superiority!!), I like to think about him and Sarge bonding over ridiculous fire-creating machinery. I like to think about him and Caboose bonding over losing friends but learning how to make new ones. I like to think about him and the Freelancers realising they’ve got way more in common than they have differences and working through the whole ‘we killed yall but we thought you were the bad guys’ thing. I have a Chorus-loses AU (that is very underdeveloped) where Sharkface remains sort of friends with Felix and Locus and they still work together here and there afterwards. I like the dynamic. Much 2 think about
Head Canon: I headcanon him as trans because I am too and I like him. That’s really all there is to it. I know some people are like ‘he has no nips bc top surgery’ but fun fact/spoiler alert he does actually have nipples. It was confirmed by the creators and also through my own zoom + pixel color picking. The one on the side with the burn scars might be a bit damaged though. But they are there.
Also that one of the other Innies was listed as his next of kin. They both didn’t have any other family so they named each other as beneficiaries on shit like life insurance and whatever. That meant when they died, the dog tag came back to him. So he has that, and little charms or things hanging on a chain to remember them by. I’m still ironing details out slowly but I may post that at some point.
Also. I like to think his ‘glass’ eye is cybernetic. Just because it’s cool. I can see him being the sort to be able to overcome the issues with depth perception that having only one point of ocular input would cause because he’s extremely determined, but at the same time….. Robot eye cool u know. Very aesthetic. And I’m like 99% sure Charon’s work comp is like. Top of the line. Especially if it’s for the illegally hired UNSC security force he has protecting private property like that. If it was me I’d pay top dollar to make sure he was well taken care of so he didn’t cause a mess for the company afterwards.
One more: due to being trans, and me not especially liking the ‘joke/semi-canon’ name he was given (Terrence Ephemera Sharkface) I headcanon that ‘Sharkface’ is his current chosen name and ‘Terrence’ is a previous chosen name. (also despite ‘Ephemera’ being kind of a cruel joke - it means ”things that exist or are used or enjoyed for only a short time” like how fucking rude is that lmao - I like to think maybe it was his dead-dead-name, something held onto because it was the only thing he still has from his Mom who gave him the name, but eventually sheds it as it’s not him, it’s just a gift that he doesn’t have a use for anymore. So like he starts going by ‘Terrence’ using ‘Ephemera’ as a middle name until some point where he’s like ‘nah. That’s not vibing anymore.’ and goes by Sharkface, maybe something his squad gave him as a nickname? A new name from his new family and he just embraces it with his entire being.)
Unpopular opinion: I’ve seen some people write him as like being sexually predatory and I don’t really think that vibes with the rest of his character. I don’t like to see predation from anybody, of course, but like. This is a dude who was basically crushed into powder and burned to a crisp and likely had to completely relearn to walk and build his body back up to the strength we see him displaying while fighting Carolina and also probably learn how to compensate for a lack of depth perception if the black eye is a glass one instead of a cybernetic prosthetic. So from the get-go, he’s unconscious, or more likely sedated while they fix his bones and put in staples and plates, completely at the mercy of medical professionals who often suffer from power trips and god complexes.
He likely spent a long time in physical therapy. I’ve been in and out of that shit several times for my back. There are a wide variety of kinds of therapists. Not all of them are kind or respectful to your body, your boundaries, your limits or needs. I had one a few months ago who was a fill-in who was so brusque and dismissive with me and my pain that I went home so anxious and overwhelmed I had a nonverbal episode for most of the night along with back spasms returning. I cancelled my other appointment that week until my regular therapist would be back.
It might just be me but I can’t see someone who’s had to deal with so much of that, way more medical shit and likely medical trauma than I can even imagine, would be the sort of person to disregard other peoples’ boundaries like that. /shrug I mean he doesn’t even really get in the Counselor’s face when he’s getting pissy with him. Like he stands close and looks the dude in the eyes, but he never crosses over into touching or even trying to like, crowd him to make him take a step back. He just stands close enough to make his point with a glare and challenging eye contact, and then returns to his own area.
A wish: I am writing a calligraphy-laden letter to the writers that says “You literally tattooed “REDEMPTION” across his collarbones, and then you killed him in an extremely stilted and unsatisfying manner. I expect remuneration for emotional and psychological damages.” and having it notarized. :) /j but also 😡
I wish Wash had heard the exchange between him and Carolina about his friends, and heard the grief wavering his voice when he tells her “Sorry doesn’t bring them back!” I wish Wash and Kimball hadn’t opened fire. I wish they’d dragged him along, maybe knocked him out for everybody’s safety. I think they could have come to some sort of understanding.
I wish Sarge had seen the red armor and claimed dibs for red team. I wish he could have woken up to having been adopted unanimously onto Red Team and being told ‘condolences dude but you have a new family of idiots to deal with’. Sometimes I wish he’d won against the Freelancers. I wonder what he would have done when they were gone, when that last target of grief and anguish was extinguished. I wish he’d gotten closure. I wish he’d gotten some sort of relief for the sucking chest wound of emotional hurt he carried around with him 24/7.
Also if you’ve ever expressed wishes for Sharkface redemption arc, Red Team Shark headcanons, fic, art, or ramblings. Please know I love you and I have a little picture of you hanging inside my heart.
An oh-god-please-dont-ever-happen: It already happened :’) I hate I hate I hate I hate I HAAAATE
5 words to best describe them: mad aesthetic, nerd, resilient, determined, passionate. Dude loved his family with his entire fucking being and having that ripped away from him so violently just absolutely gutted him. don’t touch me im face down in my upsetti spaghetti and im not coming up for air
My nickname for them: Shark/Sharky, Shark man, and sometimes if I’m feeling the sorta-canon name the writers gave him, Terry or Ter is cute.
I do keep a list of the things I can see Felix calling him though. Just for giggles. Here you go:
Sharkbait
Sharkfuck
Shartface
Fishsticks
Fishdicks
Fishbreath
Filet o’ Fish
Jabberjaw
Bruce
Chumface
Captain Hook
Scarface
Freddy Krueger
Freddy Fish
ty for asking and letting me spill all this onto the tumblog :’) if you read all the way down this far thank you and also i’m sorry lmao
im feeling a little sad and wistful now but i spent the remainder of my birthday thinking and writing about Sharkface so I’m in a very content good place rn -^^-
#rvb sharkface#AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA#ok im good. im ok. im good.#i have So Many Thoughts.#thank u for asking and also i'm sorry lmao#we just got a letter#ask memes#rvb meta but not The Meta#sir that's my emotional support shark#u know he kinda helped keep pushing me to work hard at pt as well#kept thinking he had it so much worse than me but he didnt give up#so i gotta do this and keep on doin it and get my back straightened out and core strengthened to support it#it did help that i had a really good therapist tho#partner: you really gotta stop falling in love with minor side characters who die#me: yeah like that'll happen lmfao ANYWAY
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
i like it when you sleep
pairing | mason x sofía
word count | 2.2k
warnings | mention of anxiety, and general murphy nightmares. shameless smut. minors dni
author’s note | had an idea last night and was possessed by some kinda writing gods so here u go! my prompt fill for day five of hot in wayhaven, temperature. this is set sometime in the future where they’re not official and not living together, but they’re a lot more comfortable w each other – idk what book they’re gonna get together so have this vague scene mwah (i have not proofread this so enjoy the mess) also THIS TITLE IS SO LAST MINUTE SJDFJKKDFJ bc of that one song by the 1975 with a full sentence title that is v them
•─────────────────•
She hasn’t had vivid dreams in a long time, and she’s not sure if she likes it that way or not.
Her dreams are just vague sensations with colors and shapes that never fully form, sometimes comforting ones that guide her through the night till she naturally wakes.
Other times, the creeping anxiety’s broken her into a cold sweat till she jumps awake, left with the distant feeling of Murphy’s fangs deep in her throat, her scar throbbing, the skin there hot.
Tonight’s one of those nights where she’s already woken up panting after outrunning something without a face or distinct features.
The room’s stifling already, but the air conditioning is on full blast. The old system isn’t nearly strong enough to cool down the apartment to her liking.
She shifts under the sheets again, trying to find a cool patch on the bed.
Can’t get comfortable. Can’t cool down. Can’t sleep.
She rolls onto her back, tracing lines from bump to bump on the popcorn ceiling. Her eyes are dried and each blink is scratchier than the last. Her lids are heavy, but her brain’s fighting sleep.
Mason’s next to her, arms folded behind his head, face gentle – his snores are soft and followed by sighs. He’s at his most peaceful like this.
Grabbing the cup of ice water from her nightstand, she takes a few refreshing gulps, tracing her fingers through the condensation on the outside of it, before tapping her cold fingertips to her cheeks.
There’s not much she can do besides lie there until her brain stops working overtime. Maybe then she’ll slip into the dreamless sleep she so desperately wants.
“Sofía?” He rasps groggily, his voice crackling.
It still gets her when he uses her name so casually.
“I can’t sleep,” she smiles weakly, making no move to curl up to his side.
“Didn’t you take some of that sleep shit before you laid down?” He asks, peering at her through a squinted eye, the other one squeezed shut.
It’s true she’s relied on sleep aids for a long time – but something about this summer’s made her immune to them. The drops she puts in the glass of water she chugs before bed are completely ineffective.
“I guess they just stopped working.”
Mason frowns, kicking the sheets off his legs. He’s wearing the soft shorts she bought him, the ones she picked because she knew the fabric wouldn’t make him want to claw his skin off.
“Did I wake you up?” She asks, rolling onto her side. She shakes her bangs away, brows furrowed.
He shrugs. “Not your fault. It doesn’t take much to get me up anyway.”
“It was the fucking water… I was drinking too loudly,” she murmurs, propping her head up with one hand. “I’m sorry.”
“Nah, I’ve got my fill. I’m rested.” A soft smile tugs at one side of his mouth. “Thanks for letting me crash here.”
“You’re always welcome here. You know that.”
He rolls his eyes. “I don’t say thanks often, and when I do it goes unnoticed.” He stretches, the taut muscle rolling beneath his freckled skin.
Her eyes widen. “Oh wow, you really did. Four leaf clover moment.”
He shifts so that he’s on his side, too, inches away from her. “Nothin’ lucky about me.”
“Now’s the part where you say ‘I’m lucky to know you, Sofía’,” she jokes, squishing his cheeks together with her free hand, his brow quirked while she’s tugging his jaw open and closed.
“That’s a given, sweetheart.”
Closing the gap between them with a grin, she presses a kiss to his parted lips, giggling when he darts his tongue out to lick her.
“You’re so annoying,” she laughs, trying to roll away from him, but he just wraps his arms around her, nuzzling his nose into her neck.
“Don’t I know it.”
They spoon for a little while (she’s not sure how long), the ceiling fan whirring above them, the grasshoppers chirping relentlessly outside of her window.
The sweat’s still coming, even more so now that she’s cuddled up to him.
She tries and fails to reach her phone that’s on the other side of the nightstand, so Mason leans forward to tap her dark screen. The time is in big bold letters at the top of the screen, and despite her reading it four or five times just to be sure, it doesn’t change.
“I’ve gotta be up in a couple hours anyways,” she sighs, fully planning on brewing a pot of coffee and inhaling it throughout the entire day. “Might as well get up and finish the book I was reading.”
“How many hours?” He asks against her neck, kissing the scar there to punctuate his question.
“Three, I think.”
“You can fit a good nap in right after,” he chuckles, still buried in the dark sea of her hair between them.
“After what?” She asks, but it comes out more of a sigh when he suckles and nips her shoulder.
“After I fuck you senseless.” Her stomach flutters, her thighs clenching. He doesn’t beat around the bush, that’s for sure.
“Mason, you don’t have to, really. I’m a big girl – I can handle being tired for a day.”
“You’ve gotta patrol tomorrow, right?” His lips are pressed against her ear now, and his hands are splaying across her stomach.
He’s right. Tina’s cousin is visiting from out of town, so she jumped at the chance to relieve her for the night. Should be a huge regret, honestly, but she can’t bring herself to feel that way.
She sucks in a breath when his fingers inch past the waistband of her shorts, past the elastic of her underwear, past the trimmed hair above her folds, settling there with a slow swirl of his middle finger.
“Yeah, I do,” she’s already panting like a fucking fool – she can’t help what he does to her, though.
No one’s touch has ever made her feel this way.
“Gotta be well rested to protect the town.”
“Mhmm,” she agrees, groaning low when he adds two more fingers and picks up speed, rubbing her off at a furious pace.
She should be embarrassed by how fast he makes her come, but considering orgasms with Bobby were few and far between, she’s greedy with them now.
Once she got a taste of being thoroughly fucked and pleasured, she became shameless in collecting them from Mason.
Sucking her earlobe into his mouth, he nibbles the soft skin with a soft pant of his own. Her hand’s on his cock already, palming him through the thin fabric.
He slows his hand, setting an agonizing pace this time, and she’s rolling her hips to try and climax, but it isn’t working.
“Mason, please –”
“Begging already? We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet,” he breathes into her ear, pulling his hand from her shorts and bringing it to his mouth, sucking his glistening fingers over her shoulder.
She whines, barely able to see his tongue dart in between his fingers from her peripheral. “I wanted to come –”
“Impatient ass. You will soon enough,” he smiles into her shoulder, kissing the freckled skin there this time.
She feels the warmth of his hand between her legs, and she’s expecting them to sink into her, but instead he’s hastily tugging her shorts and underwear to the side, hiking her leg in the air.
The fabric rips, and he’s got the audacity to chuckle like he didn’t just ruin her favorite pajama bottoms.
“Hey, those are my favorite –” she barely finishes her sentence when he teases her with his tip, running it up and down her heat.
His hand’s holding up her leg from the knee when he pushes into her.
The sweat rolls down the small of her back – the heat had become an afterthought the second he touched her cunt.
He circles his free arm around her waist, tugging her back till they’re skin to skin.
His hips begin to roll, stroking in and out rhythmically, and all she can do is lie there slack-jawed.
“Oh fuck, that’s so good.” She’s praising him in his favorite way – complimenting him through the pleasure – and that always excites and motivates him.
“Yeah? You like when I fuck you like this? Tell me,” he huffs shakily while he tries to keep his voice even.
She knows she’s got just as equal of a grip on him as he has on her. He’s begrudgingly admitted in the afterglow that he’s never fucked like this before, with both lust and affection intermingling.
“Yes, yes, please, just like that,” she chants, eyelids fluttering shut when his hips snap harder and harder, his arm tightening around her waist.
She digs her fingernails into his arm to anchor herself while he fucks her relentlessly, and he grunts into her ear when she starts bucking her hips, fucking him back.
Her sleeping shirt’s almost completely damp on the back, and it’s gross. Thankfully, they’re in sync, so he helps her slip it over her head, immediately cupping her tits and toying with her nipples.
He’s still fucking her like their lives depend on it, and he’s pressing hot, wet kisses to her back, shoulders, neck… and tweaking her nipples with an expert hand…
It’s too much, and she’s overstimulated, clenching around him. “Shit, oh my god –”
With a quick maneuver, he’s tugged her underneath him, flat on her stomach, and rolls his hips into her steadily.
She’s open mouthed moaning into the pillow and he’s hitting all the right spots with the new angle and she’s clenching her legs so she feels tighter –
He’s singing his praises above her, shifting till he’s on his elbows on top of her, not a breath of space between them. The cool surface of his crystal necklace skims her back, raising goosebumps on her arms.
He’s pressing the weight of his chest onto her back, sinking her further into the pillows.
He’s everywhere.
He’s all she can hear. All she can feel.
Any coherent thought of the long patrol and her uneasy dreams are long gone, and there’s him. Only him.
“You’re so good for me, sweetheart. Get your face out of that pillow. Let me hear you.” She’s already putty in his hands, nodding along to whatever he gravels in her ear, so she obliges.
The noises she’s making aren’t flattering in the slightest. They’re an awful mixture of whines and groans, the cadence of them matching the slap of his hips against her ass.
“Fuck,” he huffs as she raises her hips to meet him, lifting them barely an inch or two off the bed.
If her sounds are getting him off, then his are sending her into another realm.
There’s something practically indescribable about getting another person off without trying to. Mason’s probably felt this high a million times in his existence, but it’s new to her.
With a few swivels of her hips, she’s got him just as worked up as her, and he lets her know.
“God, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous – so fuckin’ tight around me. Your cunt’s perfect for me, Sofía, oh my god,” he pants into her hair, gathering it in one hand at the nape of her neck.
He gently tugs her head to the side so he can kiss her, her eyes are already fluttering shut, her mouth parted as she’s nearing her high.
“What do you need, sweetheart? Tell me,” he murmurs, still watching her profile while she concentrates on the orgasm on the horizon.
“Just – fuck me like that – a little harder – and talk to me –” she manages a few broken demands.
“You’re doing so well taking my cock like that – can’t wait to feel you squeeze around me when you come,” he pants, curling his hips so he’s deeper in her, and she all but cries out, slapping a hand over her mouth.
“No, no, let me hear you – wanna see your pretty lips when you say my name –” his hips are stuttering. He’s close.
Thankfully, she gets there first, calling out his name, clenching her thighs to ride it out while he still pumps in and out of her erratically. He’s not far behind her.
When he comes in her, he groans this whiny groan like he’s the one being fucked into oblivion.
He slides out of her gently before plopping onto the bed next to her, tugging her to his side.
“I don’t know if I’ll wake up in 2 hours like I’m supposed to,” she murmurs, eyes heavy and half lidded from getting her back blown out in the dead of night.
“So I did a good job then?” He smirks, pressing a kiss to her sweaty bangs.
“A perfect job. You should just recreate this every time,” she sighs, pressing a kiss to the skin nearest to her, right on his outer chest.
“You’re asking me to fuck you like that every night? Don’t know if I can recreate it perfectly, but I’m up for the challenge,” he laughs, running a palm down her side.
She can’t remember what she says after that, as she’s fallen asleep topless, sweaty, and in ripped pants almost instantly.
He stays – watches her as she sleeps this time. And he thinks that she’s the most peaceful he’s ever seen her.
#the wayhaven chronicles#twc#twc mason#twc detective#hotwayhavensummer#n*fw#my fic#mason x sofía#detective sofía olmos
44 notes
·
View notes
Text
Nothing Changed But Everything’s Different | Sirius Black x Reader
Warning: slowburn angst, mentions of slight violence, alcohol, no happy ending
Time/Era: Marauder Era, Ages 18-21
Word Count: 10.1k
Summary: Sirius found someone who made him believe in love at first sight.
Request: Okay! :) Well in that case can I have an ANGST Sirius x Reader? Where they’ve been together for a few years (it’s post-hogwarts only a couple years) but the relationship is starting to sour and crumble. Sirius being Sirius is flirting with other girls and just neglecting y/n. They argue a lot and everyone can see that it’s deteriorating. It gets to a point where he just flat doesn’t acknowledge her even though they live together, long and ANGSTY pls 🥺 :) U decide the ending! :) Ty, much love!
A/N: I worked really, really hard on this so I hope you enjoy :) Let me know what you think :)
part 2 | masterlist | marauders era playlist | read on ao3
“She’s absolutely gorgeous, Prongs!” A young Sirius Black twirled around the dorm room and fell onto his bed with a dreamy sigh. “She’s witty and smart mouthed, but she’s so sweet and nice at the same time. She listens to the Weird Sisters and Queen and she’s a total badass.”
“Y/N L/N?” James scoffs, bending over a sketch he was working on. It appeared to be an intricate building of some sort, complete with four stories and geometric windows.
“Yes, Y/N L/N! I think it’s love at first sight, Prongsy. I’m going to marry that girl one day.” Sirius laid one of his ankles against the post of his bed. The leather of his boot made a loud squeaking noise, and James cringed.
“Have you ever even talked to Y/N L/N?” James smiled smugly and smudged ink across the side of his hand.
“Have you ever had an actual conversation with Lily Evans?” Sirius countered, making James sputter. James looked diagonally towards Sirius and moved his head so their corresponding bedposts weren’t in the way.
“I have! This morning, for example! We talked about the morning toast for a full 3 minutes!” His glasses began to fog as his cheeks warm. Sirius laughed heartily and threw the pillow that was under his head square at James’ face. With a deep ‘oof,’ James looks back towards Sirius, glasses now crooked. “Fine, don’t believe me! You’re just angry Evans is finally starting to fall for my charm.”
“Ah yes, my bad. I forgot sweat and body odor was irresistible to girls.”
“Lily isn’t a girl.” James reached his slender fingers to level his glasses. “She’s a woman.”
Sirius was sent into hysterics; chest heaving, loud laughter, tearful, hysterics. James rolled his eyes and threw the pillow back at Sirius. But, in all of its glory, the cushion hit Sirius’ bedpost and sent feathers flying through the air. Sirius busts out in even more laughter, falling to the floor with a big, dramatic thud.
“What’s going on here?” Remus asks, entering the room and setting his bag onto his bed. “Why is Pads on the floor?”
“JP assaulted me!”
“I DID NOT YOU THREW FIRST!!!”
Remus chuckled under his breath and unbuckled his bag to retrieve his homework. “And what exactly caused this alleged assault? Did Sirius call you Prancer again?”
A bark sounding laugh came from Sirius and James scowled.
“No, we were just talking about his newfound obsession with Y/N L/N and he took an unwarranted dig at mine and Lily’s relationship.”
Remus snorted and set his work on his desk. “What relationship?” Sirius let out another “HA” and pulled himself back onto his mattress. “And isn’t Y/N L/N the one who called your hair greasy, Pads?”
“Well, yes, but I like a woman with a bit of attitude,” Sirius sighed dreamily. His left pointer finger, ring and all, came to twirl a chunk of his hair. “I think I want an autumn wedding.”
“You’re not getting married to her, mate. You don’t even know her.” James came to Remus’ bed and started poking around his bag. “Are you putting on the scar ointment Pomfrey gave you still, Moons? Hey! Stop picking at that one, you’re going to make it worse!” He slapped Remus’ hand away from his face and Remus rolled his eyes.
“Who are you? My mother?”
“I am too going to marry her, James! Just watch me!”
Peter opened the door solemnly, a grumpy look plastered on his face. James turns nervously towards him before slapping him on the back.
“What happened, Pete? I thought you were supposed to be on a date?”
“I was, but she stood me up. Again.” Peter responds, making a beeline for the window seat. Conveniently, it was located next to his bed, so he haphazardly tossed his school bag onto the mattress. He grabs hold of one of the pillows before hugging it to his chest and burying his head into it. Sirius and James share a look before Sirius speaks up.
“Awh, you’ll get ‘em next time. Don’t worry too much about it. It’s her loss, really.”
“No, it was my loss. It was Abagail Cavin, mate. It was definitely my loss.” Peter’s voice was muffled as he muttered into the soft fabric.
“Who’s Abagail Cavin?” Sirius asks, looking towards Remus for an answer. He shrugs.
“I think that’s the ginger girl who always hangs around Y/N L/N? A year or two below us,” James thought aloud. “She’s friends with Lily too, I’ve seen them studying together.”
Remus snorts. “Of course you have.”
“I don’t know if I’m sad or angry.” The mousy boy admits, throwing the pillow in his lap at the wall. It hit one of Sirius’ Queen posters, making the frame fall to the floor with a loud crash. James is quick to swoop in and redirect Peter’s attention in fear of him escalating.
“Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay, there’s no need to get mad at Abagail. Um, how about we go get some sweets from the kitchens, yeah? Maybe that’ll make you feel better.”
Peter tightened his jaw, staring at the now shattered frame on the ground. After a moment of silence from all the boys, Peter nodded and the pair exited the room.
~
“Y/N L/N,” Sirius spoke in his signature flirty voice. He tried to match her walking pace, but she seemed to be in a rush.
“Sirius Black, what can I do for you?” Y/N answered, her school uniform skirt swaying as she walked. She was on her way to meet Abagail in the library so the two could study together, and she was already 5 minutes late.
“I was wondering if you would -excuse me, sorry- if you would like to go to the next Quidditch match with me?” Y/N seemed to swerve in and out of the crowded hallway like a car in heavy traffic. “Supposed to be a good game, you know.”
“Me? Go with you? While you cheer your little boyfriend on? Thanks for offering, but I have to decline.”
“Come on, you always go anyway! It could be fun!” Sirius finally matched Y/N’s fast gait. “And maybe we could grab some hot butterbeer or cider after.”
Y/N sighed, suddenly stopping at the entrance of the library. She faced Sirius boldly and grabbed his upper arms with her hands.
“Listen, it’s really flattering that you want me to go with you, and I have to admit, you’re super cute. But, you don’t exactly have the best track record with girls and I don’t want to be just a checkmark on your list of girls to shag.”
While any person would be wounded by Y/N’s blunt assumptions, Sirius grins. “That’s where you’re wrong, love. I don’t really have a track record with girls, unless you count the week I dated Marlene McKinnon the October of our 2nd year. It’s our 7th year and I’ve had one kind-of girlfriend.”
Sirius watched as Y/N’s facial expression changed. Taking this as an invitation to keep going, he rubs his hands together and continues. “And if you’re talking about shagging, I’ve shagged maybe three girls who were not on some kind of to-fuck list, thank you very much.” Sirius suddenly leans in so he could whisper. “I’m just flirty. And based on the look on your face, the flirting is working.”
“Y/N!” Abagail’s voice made Y/N drop her hands and Sirius smirk. “What are you doing?”
“Oh, we’re just chit chatting,” Sirius answers for Y/N. “But, I do have a question for you, Ab.”
Abagail’s face scrunched in response. “Don’t call me that. What’s your question?”
“Why’d you stand up my mate Peter?” Sirius now stood with his feet shoulders width apart, arms crossed over his chest and his hair pulled to one side. Y/N couldn’t help but admire how well Sirius’ uniform pants fit.
“What do you mean, stand him up? We talked about hanging out, but we never made actual plans. Honestly, I don’t really think I want to make any official plans. Some of the things he says are kinda scary.” Y/N looks sympathetically towards her friend.
“I told you to just ignore him, babes.”
“I know, I know. I really think he’s a nice guy deep down though.”
Sirius looked puzzled, “What harmless, little Peter Pettigrew says scares you?”
Abagail nods frantically, “He came and sat with Lily and me when we were studying in the library last week. He went on a rant about how he can’t wait to become an Auror just to see,” The girl lifted her fingers to so air quotes. “How far he can take it.”
“That doesn’t sound like Peter at all,” Sirius’ eyebrows knit in confusion.
“Well, it was. And Y/N and I have a lot of studying to do. So, if you’ll excuse us.” Abagail gently tugged at Y/N’s arm.
“Wait! So, is it a date, Y/N?” Sirius called after the girls. Y/N turned over her shoulder and beamed.
“Common room before the match. I don’t like to be kept waiting, Black!”
~
“You don’t like to be kept waiting… but you think it’s perfectly okay to leave me all alone in the common room? That’s not very kind, Y/N.” Sirius watched Y/N descend the stairs to the girls dormitory. He was wearing his Gryffindor sweater and ripped black jeans, his hair tied messily in a bun. A long, striped scarf dangled lazily on his shoulders and draped down his frame to his mid thigh.
“I said before the match and if I’m not mistaken, it’s before the match.” Y/N tossed her hair over her shoulder. “Are those for me?”
Sirius quickly stood, holding out a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers. “Heh, yeah. I thought it was fitting because it’s the middle of October and we’re going to a Quidditch match. The leaves are orange and there’s so many colors and the sunflowers have the same kind of color pallet-”
“Sirius, they’re lovely. Thank you.” Y/N cut off the blabbering boy. She took the flowers happily and observed their pretty petals. Sirius was right; the rich golden color matched the fallen leaves that littered the Hogwarts grounds. Y/N held up a waiting finger to Sirius so she could go leave her flowers in her dorm.
“It’s pretty cold out, love, do you want to grab a jacket?” Sirius said when she returned.
“It’s all in the name of fashion, my dear,” Y/N pulls a piece of hair behind her ear and nods towards the portrait hole. “Shall we?”
Y/N sat in the crowd with her legs crossed; her shoulders were slumped forwards and her hands stayed sandwiched in between her thighs. Gryffindor was absolutely destroying Ravenclaw with the impressive score of 80-10.
“The snitch is right by Potter’s head!” Y/N screeched, bumping Sirius’ shoulder with her own.
“Where?! I don’t see it!”
“To the right! Meadowes needs to catch it before Lockhart sees it!” Y/N shivers in spite of herself, bringing her hands to her mouth in order to warm them. Sirius snickers and loops his scarf around her shoulders.
“Hopefully that doesn’t ruin your outfit, love.” Sirius winks and turns back to the game.
The scarf was soft and toasty, and smelt exactly like Sirius. The satisfying mix of leather, butterbeer, pine and smoke engulfed her senses and made her dizzy. Y/N wrapped it around her arms and snuggled deeper into the soft knit.
“Meadowes spots the snitch!” Remus announces over the intercom. The entire statum seemed to erupt into chaos; cheers and boos echoing off of every surface within 500 feet.
Y/N had always had a soft spot for Remus; they weren’t friends, but something about him was so warm and inviting. He in no way seemed like the type to announce a Quidditch match, but it appears that when you’re friends with James Potter long enough, anything could happen.
Dorcas zooms past the Gryffindor student section in her pursuit for the snitch. The entire group, Lily and Marlene especially, scream out loud words of encouragement. Y/N could have sworn she could see a faint smile appear across Dorcas’ features.
“Potter scores! 10 points to Gryffindor! 90-10! Ravenclaw could still win if Lockhart catches the snitch!”
“Come on, come on,” Sirius mumbles under his breath. No matter how much he liked to deny it, Sirius got really into Quidditch. He couldn’t play for shit, but he knew the mechanics of the game like the back of his hand.
“Meadowes catches the snitch! Gryffindor wins!!” The entire crowd goes ballistic. Kids hug, and some kiss, before storming the field to congratulate their team. James stays on his broom, doing small loops in the air in the hopes of impressing a certain redhead.
Sirius wraps his strong arms around his date, pulling her to her feet and lifting her into the air. “We won, Y/N! We won!!”
Y/N snakes her arms around Sirius in return, a similar happiness bubbling in her chest.
“What’d ya say about grabbing some hot cider from the kitchens to celebrate?” Sirius questions, noticing they’re the last students at their seats.
Y/N nods, a soft smile gracing her face. “Yes, please. I’m fucking freezing.”
~
“It would be easier if you just levitated the boxes in, love.” Y/N watched as Sirius struggled to carry boxes into the living room of their new flat. She giggled, admiring her boyfriend’s flexed biceps and strong hands. The prominent veins in his hands and forearms were bulging, making the manual labor a show for his very happy girlfriend.
“I feel like that’s bad luck,” Sirius explained, placing the cardboard onto the floor. “I want to do this right. If I don’t we could be cursed.”
“Whatever you say, babe. But, just so you know, that box goes into the kitchen.” With a flirty wink and smile, Y/N walked into their bedroom to unpack some of their boxes.
Their new flat wasn’t overly exciting; it was a one bedroom, one bath flat above a small bakery in the center of London. It was a tiny space, as you’d expect two barely-twenty-year-olds to own, but it would soon be their home. Y/N was just excited the flat had a kitchenette and a small living space.
The best part, in Y/N’s opinion at least, was the fact that the smell of freshly baked bread filled their flat at the beginning of each day. The elderly bakery owners, Jullian and Caspar, had given the young couple a good price on the flat. According to them, they were waiting for the perfect couple to rent from them. What that meant, Y/N didn’t know, but it made her feel special all the same.
Y/N looked out of their window to the hustle and bustle on the sidewalk below. The shop was a small, hole in the wall bakery called Dream Puffs, that was oddly popular for its location. And Y/N was quick to understand why. Almost everything they made, especially the sour dough bread and cream puffs, were to die for. Jillian had presented Sirius and her a large loaf of the bread and a dozen cream puffs as a welcome present, most of which had been eaten already. Y/N wished she had known of Dream Puffs and the wonderful owners before, but she supposed she still had a lot to discover in London.
The one downside was the only way to get into their apartment was by going through the bakery. It’s not the worst thing in the world, but when you’re in a rush or having a bad day, having to face random people isn’t the most ideal situation. Jullian and Caspar were nice enough to close the bakery early for the couple’s move in.
“I thought you were supposed to be unpacking?” Sirius poked his head into their bedroom with sweat dripping down his brow.
“Oh right, sorry,” Y/N lazily flicked her wand and their clothing sprang to life.
“Bad luck, Y/N!” He entered the room and wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, laid his chin on her shoulder and looked out the window. The busy streets and buildings were muted by the glass, which made Y/N feel as if they were watching ants in an ant farm.
“I doubt we’ll get bad luck from levitating a few shirts, darling,” Y/N brought one of his hands to her mouth, gently kissing his knuckles before returning it to her waist. “I can’t believe this place is ours,”
“Well, technically it’s Jillian’s and Caspars, but yes.” Sirius chuckles directly into Y/N’s ear and kisses her shoulder. “I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you.”
“Are you asking me to marry you?”
“Yes and no. Not now, obviously, but eventually. We’re going to be together forever anyway, so why should we rush?”
Y/N sighed happily, feeling very loved.
~
“Do you think Abagail will ever talk to me again?” Peter asked, laying his head against the armrest of the couch. “I heard she's working at the book shop in Diagon Alley.”
Y/N snorted, laying her head on her boyfriend’s shoulder and enjoying the sound of the record playing in the corner of the room. Sirius and Y/N were hosting a dinner party for their friends in celebration of James getting accepted into the Auror academy. The nine of them -Sirius, Y/N, James, Lily, Peter, Remus, Marlene, Dorcas, and Mary- were all piled in Sirius and Y/N’s small living room, tipsy and full of warm food.
“That happened almost two years ago, Pete. Let it go,” Y/N hummed, Sirius’ gentle hand rubbing her back and lulling her to sleep. She could feel the vibrations of Sirius’ laughter through his leather jacket.
“Yeah, so? I’m not allowed to like someone that long?” Peter’s voice was harsher than he anticipated, making Sirius send a glare his way.
“She means stop moping around and pining after a girl who doesn’t want you. There’s a world of opportunity and thousands of girls just waiting to date you if you open your eyes to it.” Sirius’ tone was barely lighter than Peter’s.
“Well I don’t want thousands of girls, Padfoot. I want Abagail. Not everyone can hit it on their first try.”
“Hit it on their first try?” Y/N was now wide awake. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”
“I mean,” Peter sat up, looking Y/N straight in the eyes. “You fucked Sirius on the first date.”
“Woah, woah, woah, alright that’s enough. Wormy, Pads, Y/N, let’s all just take a deep breath and calm down for a moment.” James was quick on his feet to defuse the potentially harmful situation. He knew how Peter could get, and he didn’t want to see it escalate to that point.
“Did you just slut shame me for having sex with my own boyfriend? Do you even have the authority to do that, Mr. Unused-Condom?” Y/N was now standing with James, starting to walk towards Peter. Peter stumbled to his feet and stared into Y/N’s eyes.
“He wasn’t your boyfriend then, Miss Drop-My-Panties-for-a-Knut.”
Sirius was quick to act, anger boiling inside of him. His knuckles balled into a fist and he threw a nasty punch square into Peter’s jaw. “No one insults my girl, Peter. I thought you knew better than that.” Sirius’ voice was like nothing Y/N had ever heard; it was cold and icy, yet fiery hot and full of hell-bending anger.
Peter looked up and slugged Sirius right in the nose, making it gush blood. Remus grabs Sirius’ arms and binds them behind his back, trusting James to do the same to Peter.
Y/N shrieked, having never seen Sirius or Peter get physical with anyone, let alone each other. Marlene grabbed her arm and pulled her away from the boys.
“What have we talked about, you two?” James demanded, the vein on his neck bulging.
“I’m not going to sit around and let him harass my girlfriend, JP! He’s a fucking asshole and he knows it!” Sirius struggled against his binds, but Remus was much stronger than him.
“I’m not the one dating a slut!”
“Get the fuck out of my flat!” Sirius screams making the room shake. Peter wiggles from James’ grip and grabs his wand before disapperating out of the room.
Remus releases Sirius and he stomps out of the flat and down the stairs, most likely to go smoke a cigarette. James quickly follows after a glance towards Lily.
“What did James mean when he said ‘what have we talked about,’ Remus?” Y/N asks, her soft voice a stark contrast from Sirius’ shouting. Remus runs a big hand down his face and plops onto the couch.
“I wasn’t supposed to let you girls know,” He scoffs, shaking his head. “Sirius and Peter have been at each other’s throats for the past few years. Recently, it started getting physical. James always tries to defuse the situation, but it doesn’t work a ton.” Remus meets Y/N’s gaze and smiles sadly. “That boy would do absolutely anything for you, I hope you know that.”
~
Sirius laid in bed with his arms wound tightly around Y/N’s waist. It was near 5 am and the light was just barely peeking through the window of their bedroom. The morning bread must have just been put in the oven, as the smell of fresh bread was slowly starting to overtake the flat. A long sliver of silver light slashed against the wall before fading delicately into the white paint. Sirius sighed contently and looked down at his girl.
Her eyes were closed and her mouth was slightly agape; Sirius observed how Y/N’s eyes moved under her eyelids while wondering what she was dreaming about. He hoped she dreamt of him, as his dreams were constantly riddled with her. Every aspect of her danced around his dreams: her lovely smile, her laugh, her scent, her gait, and everything that made Y/N Y/N. Sirius’ own lips parted a miniscule amount as he brought the back of his fingers to brush her cheek. He couldn’t help but notice how soft her skin was under his touch. She was so peaceful in this moment, and if she was to be disturbed, the world would crack.
But all good things come to an end, and Y/N opened her eyes. Her features were riddled with the grogginess of sleep as she batted her eyes to focus her vision.
“Darling? Is everything alright?” Her voice was honey in his ears.
“Perfect, my love. Go back to sleep.”
“What time is it?” Y/N began to wiggle from his strong grip, but Sirius tightened his hold on her waist.
The man shot a spare glance at the old coo-coo clock that hung in the corner. “Quarter to five”
“Then may I ask why you’re awake?”
Sirius sighed, pressing an opened mouth kiss on her forehead. “Couldn’t sleep, the nightmares are still awry.”
“What was it this time? Your mom?” Y/N was now wide awake and propped up onto her elbow.
“No, the last Order mission, actually,” Sirius gently brushed a clump of hair out of her eyes. “But it’s okay, I’m alright. I have you here with me.”
Y/N’s eyebrows scrunched and her mouth pierced. “Do you want to talk about it?”
“No, my darling. I just want to lay here with my beautiful girl in my arms.”
~
“I’ve never been to this bar before,” Y/N giggles as Sirius opens the door to the small building. The outside’s appearance was rather unappealing; cracked, exposed brick that has moss growing out of it, a leaky gutter system, a splintering wooden door and a faded open sign. Y/N looked up towards the LED sign that spelled out the bar’s name. Silver Sickle Bar and Eatery illuminated in the wet pavement, but multiple letters were unlit, making it read Silver Ickle and Eat.
“Me either, one of my clients works here and said she’d give me free drinks.” Sirius winked before following Y/N inside.
The place was small and drafty, but oddly cozy. It had the same exposed brick as the outside, but this time, they were bright red and covered in picture frames. A few wooden tables were scattered across the floor opposite the bar, and various older men sat with beers in their hands.
“Oh, Sirius! My love, you came!” A very angelic girl from behind bar squeals, quickly exciting the bar and throwing her arms around Sirius. Her hurried speed made Y/N step away from the pair to avoid getting caught in the crossfire. Sirius chuckles heartily, wrapping his arms around her small frame, seeming to forget Y/N was there.
“Vanessa! Nice to see you again,” He exhaled. A sinking feeling settled in the bottom of Y/N’s stomach. “How is your tattoo healing?”
Vanessa pulls her shirt down to show Sirius the skin in between her breasts. On her skin sat a magical tattoo of a Hongorian Horntail dragon, which looked towards Sirius and blew a big breath of fire his way. The art was gorgeous, very obviously Sirius’ work, which only made Y/N’s stomach sink further into her feet. The red, lacy, v neck bra Vanessa was wearing brought out the ink in the tattoo perfectly, and the shape of the cut displayed not only her breasts, but the dragon beautifully.
Y/N knew that many of Sirius’ clients were girls; she wasn’t stupid. He was a newly licensed tattoo artist at the biggest magical tattoo parlor in all of London. Not to mention, Sirius was an incredibly talented artist, which meant his appointment list was extremely difficult to get on. The charming attitude and good looks only added to the appeal of his artistry.
“Who’s this?” Vanessa turned her gaze from Sirius’ to look directly at Y/N. Her long, black hair fell over her shoulder like a waterfall and her porcelain skin glowed under the dim lighting.
“Oh! Right,” Sirius stuttered, shooting a grin in Y/N’s direction. “This is my gorgeous girlfriend, Y/N. Y/N this is Vanessa, I did her dragon tattoo last week.”
Y/N forced herself to send a polite smile towards the girl who was just all over her boyfriend. Vanessa sent an equally fake smile and began to walk back to the bar.
“And what can I get started for you, handsome?” She giggled, standing in front of the large wall of liquor. Y/N felt as if she was back at Hogwarts with all the girls throwing themselves at Sirius.
“Old fashioned,” Sirius responded, taking place on one of the wooden stools. “And for the lady, tequila on the rocks with lime.”
Vanessa sends Y/N an icy look before giggling sweetly. “Coming right up.”
Y/N sends a worried glance towards Sirius, but he just responds by squeezing her thigh and kissing her temple.
“So, do you have any tattoos? Since you’re so good at your job, I would assume you do, yes?” Vanessa asks, pouring Sirius’s drink and sliding it towards him.
“Quite a few,” He catches the glass before it flies off the bar. “Most of them are covered by my shirt though.”
It was true, Sirius’ torso and shoulders were littered with tattoos: A large lion across his right shoulder onto his bicep, stag antlers across his shoulder blades, a moon on the lower left side of his stomach, rat paw marks under the moon, and constellations riddling his collarbones.
The bartender tilts her head to the side cheekily. “Can I see them?”
Sirius chuckles in a very happy, flattered way. “I don’t think that’s quite necessary here,”
“But I can already see this one…” Vanessa reached her arm across the bar and traced the bottom of the lion’s mane with her long, slender fingers. The tattoo seemed to move with her movements. “Can’t I see the rest?”
Y/N coughs, slapping her hand against the bar. The vibration of Y/N’s sudden movement caused Sirius’ drink to wobble inside the glass. “I think I ordered a tequila not a random chick flirting with my boyfriend.”
“Of course, how foolish of me.” Vanessa sent a scowl Y/N’s way and turned her back to fetch the bottle of alcohol. Sirius matched Vanessa’s expression.
Once the flirt finished making Y/N’s drink, she slid it over to her. Y/N took a sip, only to find it was awfully made and very watered down.
“Sirius, babe, I have a headache, can we go home?”
“You didn’t have a headache a minute ago?” Sirius raises an eyebrow.
“I know, I just feel a migraine coming on. I really need to take my migraine potion before it gets bad. Please?”
Sirius sighs and nods, throwing an arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple. “Of course, babygirl.”
The pair stand from their stools but Vanessa stops them. “That’ll be 2 galleons for the tequila.”
“You said you’d give me free drinks?” Sirius placed a comforting hand on Y/N’s lower back, rubbing small circles over her shirt.
“Yeah, for you. The tequila wasn’t for you.”
“Yeah, fine, whatever.” Sirius reached into his pocket and pulled out two galleons, slamming them onto the bar.
“Can I bet on seeing you again?” A loud giggle comes from her mouth as the couple exited the building. “Maybe you can show me your tattoos.”
~
“I don’t know, Lily! She was all over him and he didn’t stop it.” Y/N bit into an apple and traced the Potters’ tablecloth. It was a month after Sirius and Y/N had visited The Silver Sickle, and Y/N couldn’t keep her anxieties to herself.
“Have you tried talking to him about it?” Lily responded, kneading a big glob of pie crust at the counter. Potter Cottage was much larger than Sirius and Y/N’s flat above Dream Puffs. Earlier that month, Lily had announced she was pregnant, so James decided it was time to upgrade from their small flat to a house fit to raise a family.
“Yes, but each time I try to bring her up he gets defensive and assures me that it was nothing, that he was trying to get free drinks.”
Lily stared down at her dough intensely before grabbing her rolling pin. “Well, I wouldn’t let him get away with it. Maybe try to ask him again tonight? Just sit down and have a real, hearts on the table conversation about your feelings and whatnot. It’s important to do that.”
“Yeah, that’s the thing. He’s been staying at work late this entire week. Apparently, one of his clients is getting a full back tattoo and it’s taking multiple sessions to finish. This is his biggest job to date, I don’t want to ruin it for him.”
“How late is late?” The mom-to-be laid the pie crust into her pan and began to trim the excess off of the edges.
“Nine, sometimes ten. He comes home exhausted.”
“Hm, okay. I’d still try to speak with him if you can. How’s your work going? St. Mungos treating you well?”
“Oh, yeah, definitely. My supervisor said that I’m one of the best beginning level healers he’s seen since Pomfrey worked in my ward,” Y/N took another bite of her apple. “I might get transferred to the branch in France for a week coming up, though. There was a big gas explosion and they have over 200 burn victims. My supervisor said it would be a good experience for me.”
“Oh, I read about that in The Prophet! Those poor people,” Lily filled the crust with apple pie filling. “I’m sure they need all the help they can get.”
“Oh, I know. I haven’t learned much about burn solvents yet, so it’ll be interesting to learn on the job.”
“Are you going this week? What a shame, it’s your birthday on Saturday.”
“Oh, no, the earliest I would be leaving is a fortnight from now. I’m kind of a last resort since I don’t have much experience or training yet.” Y/N stood and threw her apple core into the bin. “How’s JP doing at the Academy? He’s in his second year by now, right?”
“Oh, he’s doing lovely. The Order is grateful for his efforts and have been sending him on more missions than before.” Lily sighs. “It’s rather nerve wracking, isn't it? You’re lucky Sirius doesn’t get called on many.”
Y/N laughed a bit uncomfortably. “Yeah, I suppose they prefer actual Aurors to go on the calls. But when he does go, those are the worst nights. I can’t imagine having to go through that on a daily basis.”
“It’s really hard,” Lily’s voice cracks and she begins to cry. “I’m sorry, it’s the hormones.”
“Don’t apologize, Lils. I know how scary it can be. At least he's with Wormtail most of the time, yeah? They’re at the academy together and all.”
Lily takes a deep breath to control her crying. “Yes, I suppose you’re right. Thank god for Wormy.”
~
“Hello there, pretty lady. I heard there’s a 21st birthday party to be thrown?” James said happily as Y/N opened the door of the flat. Lily and Remus tailed him ever so slightly, all three wearing large grins and holding brightly wrapped packages.
“Birthday party? You guys don’t-”
James waved his hand dismissively. “We’re already here, so you’re kind of stuck with us. Peter should be here eventually.” The three push their way into the living room.
“The nice elderly woman downstairs asked me to bring you this,” Remus held out a cupcake with bright red frosting. Y/N took it happily and walked to the kitchen to set it on the counter.
“Thank you, Moony. But, really, you guys didn’t have to. Sirius isn’t even here.” Y/N felt self conscious around her friends. She was wearing an old tee shirt from her early teens, a beloved Scooby-Doo tee with a rip in the left armpit, and black yoga pants. It was safe to say Y/N was more than ready to spend her birthday alone.
“What do you mean, not here?” Remus was standing in the corner of the living room, flipping through Sirius and Y/N’s record collection. They had so many at this point that the couple was unsure which record belonged to who.
“I don’t know, he left early this morning saying he got called into work. Something about an angry customer.” Y/N felt small under the group’s gaze. “I wasn’t really paying attention, I was half asleep.”
Y/N watched as Lily and James shared a look. “I didn’t think the shop was open on Saturdays, but I guess they are.” Y/N’s shoulders lowered visibly, making Lily backtrack. “It’s the pregnancy brain, Y/N. I’ve been mixing things up for the past week and a half.”
“Right, right. Of course. Um, how’s that going, by the way?” She crossed her arms across her stomach uncomfortably.
“Oh, it’s going wonderful! We actually have something to give you, if that’s okay.”
“Wait!” James cut in. “We should wait for Wormy to get here!”
Lily hit his chest with the back of her hand. “Oh, come off it. You know how late he is to everything! Let’s do it now.” The couple led Y/N to the couch and sat on either side of her, both wearing matching shit-eating grins. Remus remained leaning against the wall, ready to flip the record when the time came. James placed a medium-sized purple box on her lap.
Y/N carefully undid the wrapping paper, prompting James to let out a loud groan.
“Any day now, woman!”
Y/N giggled. “Hey! It’s my birthday! Be nice to me!”
“I am being nice to you, Y/N! I gave you a present, didn’t I?”
Y/N bumped her shoulder with his and reached into the box. Her fingertips met with the soft fabric of a tee shirt. Upon pulling the garment out completely, she observed that the words World’s Best Godmother was printed across the front. Immediately, Y/N dropped the shirt and covered her mouth with her hand.
“Is that a yes?” Lily asked, her eyes tearing again.
“Yes! Oh my god!” Y/N’s own tears trailed down her cheeks as she hugged both tightly. “Me? Godmother?”
“I can’t think of anyone more worthy,” Remus remarked as he watched the heartwarming scene unfold in front of him. Y/N was so overwhelmed with joy that she had almost forgotten that Sirius was absent. Almost.
The party went along swimmingly from there on out; Peter had arrived shortly after Y/N unboxed Remus’ gift, a new cauldron and potion ingredients, and another gift from the Potters, a pair of gorgeous black combat boots. The mousey-boy shuffled over to Y/N and handed her a small gift bag.
“Oh? Thanks, Pete.” Y/N awkwardly pulled out the contents of the bag. “Oh, good, a gift card to Silver Sickle Bar and Eatery.” She tried to sound thankful towards the man in front of her, but the disdain was still evident in her voice.
“Sirius said it was his favorite bar, so I thought you’d like it. Maybe we can grab some lunch there, obviously my treat,” He lazily gestures to the card in her hand. “We haven’t really hung out for a while. I figured it would be nice. If you don’t like it I can get you something diff-”
Y/N cut him off with a hug, “Thank you, Peter, this was really thoughtful. Would next week work?”
“Wednesday?” He wraps his arms around Y/N’s frame for a moment before letting go.
“Wednesday works perfectly.”
The four continued to hang out well into the night; laughing, chatting, drinking, listening to music, and playing board games. As the party dragged on, Y/N couldn’t help but grow worried about Sirius’ whereabouts. Her worries were harshly pushed aside, though, when Lily suggested they play poker.
“Ugh, I fold.” Peter slams his cards down onto the coffee table and laid back onto the carpet in defeat. Y/N smirked at Remus, her only opponent, and gestured for him to show her his cards.
“Straight, beat that,” Remus says confidently. James and Peter “oooh” childishly and looked towards Y/N. It was very apparent that all of them, besides Lily, were very buzzed.
Y/N smirked and shook her head, “You play a hard bargain, Lupin. So good that I applaud you. But,” Y/N laid her hand on the table: four of a kind. “You’re just not good enough.”
The room laughs as Y/N pulls the large pile of galleons, sickles, knuts and Lily’s wedding ring towards her. Y/N slips it onto her own ring finger and holds her hand as if to admire it.
“Oh, Lily, dear, don’t you just adore my new ring? Look at how it glistens in the light!”
The redhead rolls her eyes and snatches it off of Y/N’s finger. “I’ll just be taking that,” She puts it back on.
“It will forever be known to be my legal property, Evans. Don’t forget it!”
“Does that mean I’m married to both of you now?” James smiles a dopey grin and looks back and forth between the two women. Y/N pretends to gag.
“On second thought, I surrender my rights to your ring.”
The group continued their laughter until the front door of the flat swung open. A very drunk Sirius Black stumbled in the door, dumbfounded as to why all of his friends were in his house.
“Why are you guys here?” Sirius slurred, pulling up the shoulder of his leather jacket. He bumped the record player in the process, making Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac skip.
“It’s Y/N’s birthday, Sirius,” Remus responded, his soft voice contrasting to his previously upbeat tone. Sirius slouched against the wall and slid down it until he hit the floor.
“Y/N’s birthday...Y/N’s birthday...Oh! Y/N’s birthday! Was that today?”
James was quick to jump into action. Propelling himself off of the couch, he took Sirius into his arms and brought him to a standing position. Sirius, of course, whined the entire way up, claiming that the floor wanted him to sit there. James responded with a small hum before peeling Sirius’ jacket off of his body and throwing it onto the kitchen counter. As Y/N watched, she couldn’t help but notice a bright pink smear on Sirius’ neck.
“Yes, it’s today, you big goof. Where have you been?”
Sirius went into a big flurry of words as James brought him towards the bedroom. Y/N thought she heard ‘And you should have seen her!’ amidst all the jumbled words, but she pied that off as her anxious imagination running awry. Lily’s hand found her back and she rubbed soothing circles on Y/N’s shoulder blades.
“He forgot,” Y/N said to no one in particular. “I can’t believe he actually forgot.”
“I’m sure he didn’t forget,” Lily soothed Y/N, rubbing circles into her shoulder blades. “He probably got carried away at happy hour, you know how he gets.”
“Happy hour on Y/N’s birthday though?” Peter shook his head. Something about his tone didn’t sit well with Y/N. Lily shot a glare his way.
The party did not last much longer; Remus said he had an interview with Dumbledore about a TA position at Hogwarts, Lily was tired, and Peter said that he was going on a mission tomorrow and needed rest. Y/N bid her friends farewell with large hugs and thank you’s.
It’s safe to say that Y/N slept on the couch that night.
~
Y/N awoke to sunlight in her eyes and a crick in her neck. The living room window wasn’t guarded with curtains, so even at the early hour of 4:30 AM, the room was illuminated with soft oranges, reds, and pinks. Y/N sat up and reached her hands above her head to stretch her back. She looks towards the bedroom door, listening for the soft snores of her boyfriend. Her neck screamed in agony, but she still stood and padded over to open the door.
Y/N twisted the doorknob with care, trying to be as silent as humanly possible. She needed to see Sirius, not have a conversation with him. Alas, in all his glory, Sirius lied on his stomach with his mouth hung open and drool oozing onto the pillow. The girl admired how he looked as he slept; the sharp jaw, the perfect skin, the messy hair, the peaceful look gracing his features. He still wore his skinny jeans from the day previous, but at some point during the night, he discarded his white dress shirt. Y/N’s gaze darted around the floor until it landed on the crumpled fabric.
Y/N glanced back at Sirius, admiring the artwork that filled his back. She remembered the day he got it; James cried when he first saw the gorgeous antlers. The low light highlighted the dark brown ink and seemed to make his skin appear airbrushed. Y/N smiled in spite of herself.
Closing the door softly, Y/N walks into their small kitchen to prepare some tea in order to calm her nerves. The apartment was rather messy from the ‘party’ and Y/N had to dig through endless dirty dishes to find a mug clean enough to use. Y/N finally found one, a lavender mug that Marlene had given her for her 17th birthday, and set it on the counter while she filled the kettle.
The kitchen wasn’t as dirty as Y/N previously thought. Sure, the sink was overflowing with dishes, but the kitchen itself was rather clean. And besides Sirius’ leather jacket, the counter was clear. The floor, though, was slightly sticky. Y/N sighs and flicks her wand; almost silently, the dishes start cleaning themselves.
Y/N reaches for Sirius’ jacket, only to have a squishy substance fall onto her feet. She jumps back in surprise and disgust of the weird texture. But, the real panic sets in when she notices a big red spot on not only the floor but the leather jacket. Upon further investigation, Y/N realizes it’s the frosting from the cupcake Remus had given her. Sirius was very protective of this jacket and if he saw this, Y/N would be a dead man. So, she did the only reasonable thing she could think of: scrub the material with a wet paper towel.
Thankfully, the frosting came off easily and didn’t stain the material. The only real obstacle was the sweet scent of the frosting lingering on the garment. Sirius had an insane sense of smell, so if he picked up even the slightest trail of sugar, Y/N would be busted. She delicately lifted the material to her nose.
The musky scent of Sirius filled her nose as normal; leather, smoke, cologne, and spearmint. Y/N grinned at the familiar scent until she noticed a strong rose perfume almost ingrained into the leather. Y/N’s perfume smelled of vanilla.
~
Y/N held her breath as she opened the door of the Silver Sickle, she was in no mood to see Vanessa again. All the same, Y/N put effort into her appearance just in case. She let out her breath when she noticed an old man behind the bar and Peter sitting in the corner.
“Hey,” Y/N said breathlessly as she pulled out one of the wooden chairs and sat down. She’d be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little nervous meeting Peter alone; the two seemed to rekindle their friendship after he and Sirius fought. He promised that he was just drunk and not thinking, and Y/N not wanting to cause childish conflict within their friend group, had accepted his apology.
“Hey!” He squeaked. “I didn’t know if you wanted to day drink or not, so I just ordered you a water to start off with.”
Y/N laughed awkwardly. “Thanks, Wormy.” She took a long sip from her straw, trying to slow her nervous heart. “So, uh, how’s the academy? James said you are taking more and more missions with the order.”
Peter nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, it’s great! Being an Auror is really fun, you really get to show people who’s boss, ya know?”
“Um, I guess?”
“I think they’re gonna kick me out, though. I haven’t done the best job at catching who I’m pursuing.” Peter raises his eyebrows and cocks his head to the side.
“Oh? Why not?” Y/N glanced over the menu, only half listening to what her companion was saying.
“I just like to play with them a ‘lil, like a cat and mouse. Except this time, I’m not the mouse.”
Y/N looks at a delicious looking chicken sandwich on the menu and hums in response.
“So, how are you and Sirius doing? It seemed pretty rough last week.” Peter takes a chunk of ice from his drink and starts chewing it. “If you want to talk about it, I guess.”
This brings Y/N out of her sandwich-filled thoughts. “I don’t know, to be quite honest. We haven’t spoken much and I barely see him. He leaves early in the morning...comes home late at night…” Peter nods as if he was a therapist listening to a client. “I don’t want to assume the worst but he’s making it rather difficult.”
“I wasn’t going to tell you this, because it isn’t really my business, but…” He comps down on the ice cube. “I was coming home from a mission a few nights ago and I saw him with a girl. I’m not quite sure what they were doing but it sure as hell didn’t look platonic.”
Y/N felt her entire world shatter into her lap. “What?”
“Yeah, I don’t know. She was really short with long black hair and a skimpy cocktail dress. They were walking into that club off of Coventry Street. I almost beat the fuck out of him right then and there, but there were bouncers.”
Y/N bit her trembling lip and folded her hands in her lap. Rifling through her purse, she slammed the gift card down and stood.
“Thanks for the lunch date, Peter, but I don’t feel well. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”
“Was it something I said?!” Peter yelled at Y/N’s retreating back as she left the bar.
~
“Are you going somewhere?” Sirius asked, gesturing to Y/N’s packed suitcases by the door.
“Yup, I’m going to France for a week to aid burn victims,” Y/N finished brushing her teeth before packing her toothbrush. “Didn’t think you’d care.”
“Well, I do. You could have told me.” He leaned up against the wall and crossed his arms.
“I would have if I actually saw you.” Y/N wasn’t in the mood to argue; she had about an hour before she had to leave, and she planned on using that time to relax with a cup of herbal tea.
“What’s that supposed to mean? You see me plenty.”
“Yeah, when you’re sleeping or showering. There’s not exactly time to chat when you leave early in the morning and come home well past midnight.” Y/N walked into the kitchen and cut a slice of bread. “Oh, by the way, Caspar brought up some sourdough, if you actually want any.”
“Don’t change the subject like you always do, Y/N. I work hard to support us, you know that.”
“I work hard too. And I get home before 11 every night. I’m not exactly sure how being a healer gets you home earlier than a tattoo artist, but whatever.” Y/N buttered her now toasted sourdough.
“Sometimes a piece takes a long time, that’s not my fault! I’ve been getting big jobs recently! You should be happy for me!”
Y/N let out a harsh laugh as she poured water into the kettle. “Do you really think I’m that fucking stupid, Sirius? Really?”
“What do you mean? I think you’re rather smart.” Sirius followed Y/N into the kitchen and was leaning against the counter.
“Yeah? Then why have you been lying to me for the past, I don’t know, two months?”
“You can’t keep accusing me of things, Y/N. It’s not fucking fair!” Sirius stared holes into Y/N’s back. “For fucks sake! Look at me when I talk to you!”
Y/N whipped around, her hair fanning around her face as she spun. “You know what’s not fucking fair? Letting a girl feel you upright in front of me. Lying about going into work. Forgetting my birthday and coming home from who knows where drunk as fuck with lipstick smeared all over your neck. Coming home drenched in another girl’s perfume. Taking your fucking side chick to a strip bar while I’m sat at home wondering if you’re fucking dead because we’re in the middle of a fucking war! You don’t know the first thing about fucking unfair!”
“You’re not going to France, Y/N.” His jaw was clenched and his eyes held nothing but fire. The tone of his voice was like nothing she had ever heard before, at least not directed at her. He usually reserved it for people who yelled nasty things at her from the street, or when someone bad mouthed James. It felt foreign to hear him use it with her. Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did. “You’re not fucking going, and that’s final.”
“What are you? My fucking mother? I’m going because I’m actually doing something good for the world, unlike your cheating ass.” Y/N pushed her way past her boyfriend and towards her luggage.
“Don’t walk away from me!” Sirius followed her strides. He stopped and took a deep breath before continuing. “Y/N, darling, we need to talk about this-” His tone was notably softer than before as if he was trying to glue together shards of glass.
“Talk about what, Sirius?! How you cheated on me and won’t even deny it? How you betrayed me in the worst way fucking possible? I’m not going to let you manipulate me into putting my career on the line to work out some issue you caused.”
“What, so now I’m not important? You’re a fucking hypocrite!”
“And how exactly am I a hypocrite, Sirius? You treat me like shit and whine that I’m done putting up with it? Gonna go cry to James about how you are so upset I wouldn’t hear you out after you cheat on me? Well, go the fuck ahead because James actually has a healthy relationship with a baby on the way. He won’t sympathize with you.” Y/N grabbed the handle of her suitcase and lifted her wand. “I’ll be back in a week and once we’ve had some time to cool off, we’ll talk about this like adults. I’ll see you soon.”
Just as Y/N apperated out of the room, the kettle whistled and Sirius noticed Y/N left her half-eaten toast on the counter.
~
It was near two in the morning when Y/N returned home from France the following week. The home was cold, dark, and vacant, and the entire appearance of the small flat had changed. In a week, Sirius had managed to completely trash the house. Even the smell of freshly baked goods was replaced with the sour smell of firewhisky and sex.
Y/N ventured into the kitchen first, where she observed the large stack of dishes in the sink. Everything from to-go packages to their fine china (normal glass plates from the thrift) were stacked as high as the eye can see. Some were starting to mold and produce the most horrid smell. The stove housed the kettle where Y/N had left it, but this time it was cold and empty. Another pot that contained crusty spaghetti sat next to the kettle, and Y/N cringed at the thought of scrapping it out. She moved to the counter where her toast, now stale, sat. Y/N picked it up between two fingers and threw it into the bin.
She carried on into the living room next. The couch cushions were tossed about the room and the small fur throw was draped across the back of the couch. The record player in the corner still held the Fleetwood Mac record Moony had chosen on her birthday as if it were a time capsule; Y/N couldn't help but reminisce about how happy she was with her friends that evening. Maybe that proved that she could be happy without Sirius in her life, or maybe it served as a constant reminder that he was woven into every aspect of it.
Again, the room was covered with food wrappers and alcohol bottles. Y/N feared the liquid that remained in the bottles would leak and stain the carpet, so before moving on to the bedroom, she set each one upright.
The bedroom was what Y/N feared the most; without her presence in the home, Sirius could have been intimate with an infinite amount of girls in her own bed. She shivered at the thought but pushed on and reached towards the icy doorknob.
The room was the cleanest out of the entire flat, just various clothes scattered around the floor and a messy bed. Y/N wanted nothing more but to curl up under her warm covers and press her face into the chest of the man she loved most, but that was an impossible task. He didn’t love her anymore and that was something she had to deal with, she just wished she had savored the last time he held her.
As Y/N explored further into the room, her feet found an article of clothing that neither Sirius nor Y/N owned. Bending at the hips to pick it up, Y/N held a red, lacy v neck bra in between her fingertips. Y/N fingered the material with teary eyes. Another step forward and her feet came into contact with the matching bottoms. Y/N laid the set out neatly on the bed and wallowed; it must have looked stunning on her.
Y/N walked to the desk, where an ink well was left open and a half-written letter laid face up on the surface. She capped the ink with a wet chuckle.
“You need to cap your ink, Sirius. If you don’t it’ll dry out. I won’t be there forever to do it for you.” Y/N said aloud, wiping her running nose. She picked up the letter against her better judgment and began to read.
Prongs,
I know you’re mad at me, but please just hear me out. Vanessa is gorgeous, mate. She’s sweet and nice, but at the same time she's so witty and smart-mouthed. She even listens to Queen and the Weird Sisters!
She made me believe in love at first sight, JP.
I’m going to marry her one day, mark my words!
The ink began to run as Y/N read and cried, making small blotches of black contrast against the stark white paper. Y/N placed it onto the table and gripped the edge to steady herself. Never in her 21 years on earth had she ever felt such pain, such sorrow. Her pains were usually cushioned by Sirius’ arms and sweet slurred language in the middle of the night, or by her friends’ loud cackles. But this time, this time was different; she was alone, completely and utterly alone.
Y/N looked to the wall in order to ground herself; a small sliver of silver moonlight slashed against the wall, illuminating the otherwise dark room. Y/N traced the line with her eyes until she landed on the wooden coo-coo clock.
The clock was one of Sirius’ most prized possessions; it was a gift from his Uncle Alphard that he received when he ran away from the Black family. Alphard was one of the few Sirius still kept in contact with, and he was a big role model to Sirius when he grew up. Debatably, Alphard was the one who taught Sirius how to be a man.
The present seemed lame on the surface, but that clock was one of Sirius’ favorite things when he was a child. Sirius had told stories of the long afternoons he would spend in front of the clock, waiting for the small, yellow bird to pop out of the top while Walburga and Orion fought in the background. Y/N respected Alphard with all of her being, but she wanted nothing more than to smash that godforsaken clock. She wanted to destroy everything that made Sirius happy, she wanted him to be under the same pain he was putting her through.
Y/N knew what she had to do at that very moment: she had to get out of London and move far, far away. So far away that no one would ever find her. So, she grabbed the extra suitcases in the flat and began to pack her things.
Starting at the record corner, she picked every single one of her belongings and shoved them into her suitcase. Y/N had to shrink a few of her belongings, such as the couch, in order to fit, but in a little less than an hour, every hint of Y/N was packed away in three large suitcases.
Y/N gave one last look at the apartment before apparating to Paris, where she knew she could start a better, more meaningful life. Maybe, she could even find a fresh bakery to supply her with warm loaves of sourdough bread.
When Sirius returned to the flat the following morning, the only remaining aspects of Y/N were a striped scarf and two galleons folded neatly on the bed next to Vanessa’s lingerie.
#sirius black#sirius orion black#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#sirius oneshot#sirius black fanfiction#sirius black fanfic#sirius black x reader angst#angst#sirius black angst#the marauders#the marauders era#marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader#marauders x you#james potter#james potter x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#peter pettigrew#lily evans#lily potter#harry potter#harry potter x reader#harry potter angst#the wizarding world of harry potter#jk rowling#harry potter fanfiction
599 notes
·
View notes
Text
Are Iida's legs okay?? (Iida quirk hc)
• If he punctured his engine would it heal or would he weld it?
If it's a biological thing, which I think I should assume it is since it grows out of him, then it would heal.
What if it's a Bakugou thing, like how Bakugou doesn't sweat nitroglycerin, he sweats nitroglycerin like sweat. What if it's not metal, it's just a metal-like skin.
Wait is Testutestu actually metal or is it hardened skin like metal?
I bet he isn't sure if it would heal or he'd need to weld it and this keeps this man up at night. He asked Midoriya his opinion but Midoruya just mumbled to himself for hours until he was distracted because it is now midnight and Iida asked him at lunch.
• Those are blue flames we see coming from those engines are known to go into overheat and to my knowledge, he has normal skin around that so that would hurt right??
THE NERVE DAMAGE THIS MAN MUST HAVE???
He has insanely high pain tolerance to deal with this stuff and it's really a detriment. He can get stabbed in the leg and not know unless he looks down because he legit just doesn't feel anything.
He has a bunch of scars around his calves too from scrapes he didn't really think were that deep, so when he thought they were healed enough he'd pick the scab off thinking the skin was grown fine underneath it but no. Picking the scab makes it look like a murder scene with all the blood. That was an interesting night when he had to explain why he had blood on his hands to Tensei who walked in on him by the sink.
• And how does fuel work?? again those are B L U E and purple flames! you need a lot of fuel and gas for that stuff?
Wiki says "he drinks orange juice as a source of fuel for his Quirk, while carbonated drinks make him stall" so it's like Momo's quirk but then what the fuck is his stomach doing?? (Also why doesn't he have Orange Juice or capri suns on hand then??? Give him compartments in his suit for orange juice if that is his literal fuel????)
Poor doctors in mha, 1. Mutant quirks change anatomy so much, the organs have to change too, so things are probably never in the same place, and what if they find a new organ then don't know what is or why it's there?? Same goes for emitter quirks, different things are gonna be different specialised to each individual, AND TRANSFORMATION QUIRKS. DOES IT ALL CHANGE?? DO ORGANS AND BONES AND STUFF ALL JUST CHANGE?? WHAT IF THEY NEED TO GO SURGERY BUT THE DOCTORS DONT KNOW WTF THEYRE LOOKING AT??
• He's a try hard nerd jock so I bet he chugged gasoline one time to see if it would make him run faster.
I bet he did all the maths, all the equations and probabilities, and he still drank it. Tesei saw, took pictures and hangs them up around the house to forever use as blackmail.
• Back on about the Orange juice thing, if the fuel is made of that, then does he leave CO2 or nah? Does it smell of Oranges? Is it a nice smell? Is he just a walking fragrencer?
Because it would be warm oranges because y'know it's fire. Would that smell good? are there fumes with it too? is it like flatulence and oranges? because you do need gas for those blue flames.
Iida has been around the smoke from his engines all his life so he's gone nose-blind toward it and no one gives him a straight answer when he asks if it smells of anything. Uraraka said burnt marshmallows, Tensei (who is also nose-blind to it) said pineapple, Izuku took a whiff and got high. No one is allowed to purposefully whiff it anymore.
• This man needs more leg support damn. That much thrust from his calves can not be good for his knees. I know he's grown up with it so he's used to it, and he either has the strongest knees in existence from all that endurance or his knees dislocate every other time he uses his quirk.
He has so much joint pain. He wants to get a walking stick for his joint pain and it confuses villains because they think that must mean he's out of commission but no, he can easily withstand the pain, the cane just helps. And can also be used as a weapon. The aesthetic bastard probably makes it look like a sword to match his aesthetic.
• Speaking of aesthetic, he saw Denki playing portal 2 one time and saw the characters long fall boots and instantly fell in love with them (he wants to commission Mei to make them but is honestly too scared to,)
He runs so quickly, if he goes up a ramp he will go flying and when he lands, having those kind of boots to cushion the fall wouldhelp exponentially. Also it'll make him even taller and I'm all for that. They also fit his aesthetic!
• More speaking of his aesthetic. I get the whole knight shtick is a family thing and it is also very endearing. But the wind drag. Wind resistance isn't really a problem for us because we go at human speed. He goes at human speed but the human has engines in his legs. That much clunky armour is good for protection especially to cushion the blow if he messes up a run and crashes into something and it's also good for blunt force trauma for up close attacks but there is gonna be so much wind drag. He already has enough speed where it doesn't matter too much if he is dragged just a little bit but I imagine wind drag could mess up balance and stuff. And here's where I'm torn, because he's a rich kid who is proud of his family so wants to carry on the tradition, same hero name, same hero aesthetic, same stuff like that, but should that really go above functionality? I'm not saying to minimise wind resistance he should wear a leotard or speedo or something with no armour like that, and idk the materials used, but that armour looks heavy.
He has so much inner turmoil about this. He always has an identity crisis when this is brought up.
• This bitch's metabolism tho. Orange juice is one fuel, what are the others? whatever they are, he should be eating a lot of it because that stuff gets burnt up so quick. He wouldn't be chubby, because all of his running, and he already looks like a big sturdy guy, I'm just saying, for efficiency, he should look like how Russian Women Who Fight Bears, or a Viking, that kinda physique, strong as hell, big and sturdy.
• He should have prescription goggles instead of glasses. Or. Y'know. CONTACT LESNES. SO YOU DONT HAVE TO WORRY. ABOUT YOUR GLASSES BREAKING. OR FALLING OFF WHEN YOU ZOOM. But I do understand it's for the nerd-jock trope. Guess he cares about aesthetic more than functionality 😔 but goggles can keep wind out your eyes if tho. He looks like a lovable doofus either way.
Uraraka recommends contact lenses since he forgot those existed.
He cries that day. But he was wearing the goggles so the tears kinda just stayed there.
#Karma has questions#iida tenya#iida headcanons#bnha#mha#mha hcs#bnha hcs#actually adhd#I understand that I am asking#for scientific answers out of a world#where people are made from teleportation midst#and a boy can sweat#an olympic sized swimming pool in#5 seconds#BUT STILL#I WASNT ANSWERS#If Iida was a girl#then hero society would make him wear a speedo#because#sexism#and none of the girls#have armour
48 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
